and light to meet it

*

The whole day passed in a blur. Mills’ gut was a roiling mess, stewing with anticipation and dread. This was all he could think of for months, even before she was awake and with him, and even so, when she said yes, he could hardly believe it was real.

It seemed like what constituted as the evening in the ship’s timekeeping and the appointed time of their date would never come, or at the very least, that he would fall apart like a shaky house of cards before then. But then somehow, after an agony of waiting, time suddenly shrunk in on itself like a crushed can, and there it was. It was time to slip into his clothes and make his way to her cabin.

In his cramped bathroom, after a bang to the back of his head after a poorly executed turn and hitting his funny bone as he slipped his button up on, Mills stood looking at himself. The pilfered suit he had stowed away for an occasion such as this fit right in most key places, he was pleased to find. His shoulders fit into it comfortably and it was only a little roomy in the hips. But beggars - and thieves - can’t be choosy, so he straightened up, rolling his head and shoulders and applying some cologne. His hands were clammy, he noticed as the glass bottle threatened to slip out of his hold like a bar of soap. He wiped them roughly on his trouser legs and took a deep breath.

“Goddamn,” he sighed at his reflection in the mirror. Expressions flowed like waves over his face; a bright smile, a fearful stare, a shameful frown. Mills raked a hand down his long face and gave himself a bracing slap before turning away from the reflection and walking out.

*

Although he didn’t have a wristwatch – Mills added the item to a mental checklist of things to procure – he estimated his date was fashionably late. As he waited for her at the end of the corridor leading to her cabin, he paced in tight circles, ears trained on any sound of her approaching. Twice, he thought he heard something and stiffened, jumping to his full height, heart hammering against his ribcage, only for the rush to subside when she didn’t appear. He huffed a laugh, thinking he must look like a spooked gazelle, sniffing the air and listening for any whisper of an approaching lion.

Then came the unmistakable feminine sound of heels clacking on the floor. Deciding not to appear like a frightened gazelle that time, Mills looked at the ground and took in a few swift, steadying breaths.

His throat was suddenly dry, bobbing through sandpaper as he swallowed. She stood in front of him, her heels walking into his view first. He looked up from them, following the curve of her calf, up her thigh, round over her hip, the dip of her waist, over the sweetheart neckline of her dress, her bare shoulders and neck… He must have been making a meal out of it because she was biting down a smile when his roving eyes finally reached her face and he heard her starting to tap out an impatient rhythm with her foot.

Mills realized he wasn’t breathing when she came into view and once he saw her, all of her, it didn’t get any easier to start. If he had bothered to come up with something debonair to say prior to seeing her, it was well and truly gone from his head by then. “Wow,” he sighed and she looked away from the stupid, adoring look he could feel plastered on his face.

“Wow yourself. I haven’t seen you in a suit before,” she tilted her head to the side, exposing a delicious view of her neck and Mills had to turn his whole body to the side, offering her his arm, to get his eyes to tear away from the sight.

“You should see me out of it,” he shrugged and she shook her head, but laughed.

“So I take it the plan for tonight is dinner and a show.”

“The greatest show in town,” he winked and led the way to the bar.

*

“You two look smart this evenin’,” Clyde greeted when they took their seats.

“Well, it’s a special night,” she said mock-confidentially.

“Do tell,” Clyde recognized the tone and leaned in, emulating what was meant to be conspiratorial body language.

“Julian and I are on our first date.”

“Well, ain’t that somethin’!” Clyde tossed a rag over his shoulder and gave Mills a wide smile.

“Sure is,” Mills responded quietly, aware that both his date and the android were watching him closely for his reaction.

“Took you long enough to ask,” she muttered into her martini glass, loud enough for him to hear.

“Took you long enough to get ready,” he murmured into his and grinned when she saw her snap her head in his direction.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I keeping you from some pressing engagement?” she somehow managed to put her hand angrily on her hip even as she perched atop a barstool.

“See, we’re already having our first fight,” he said casually to Clyde, who looked from one to the other with a look of child-like concern. Then he relaxed and leaned over to share the reassuring thought he found in his endless archives on humanity.

“Then you can make up, and accordin’ to my sources, that’s the best part of relationship squabbles,” he said and gave them an expectant look.

“Clyde,” she swirled the remains of her drink in her tapered glass, affecting a casual tone, “do you know what that means?”

Clyde stared blankly for a few beats. Knowing was a broad term – there was theoretical knowledge, empirical, experiential, and then the whole broader topic of consciousness and awareness as prerequisites for thought and knowledge in the first place, and where artificial intelligence fit into that entire paradigm… These answers were not easy for poor Clyde to provide. “Yes?” he tried.

“Okay,” she nodded, unconvinced, and dropped the issue.

“Well, you heard the man,” Mills shrugged and downed the rest of his drink, hopping jauntily off his stool.

“Are we off to start making up?” she mirrored his hop and enthusiasm, adding just enough slyness to her actions to reveal she knew exactly how much she was driving him mad with this probing.

“Dinner first, honey, and I will ask you to refrain from further scandalous remarks. I came here tonight expecting a classy affair,” he let her walk in front of him and headed to the restaurant.

*

As much as he wanted her, chafing against the too-narrow confines of his skin, Mills was also oddly at peace, he discovered over dinner as they ate and chatted easily. Knowing she liked him, wanted him too, made it easier to wait. To know something, something really good, was actually coming was comforting. The comfort was enough for now. And she was not playing coy about liking him either. He caught her eyes snagged on him over the rim of her glass, the bitten lips, the knowing smiles. He hadn’t predicted how amusing it would be to sit there, with this invisible guest between them, tangible and obtrusive, talking around it.

They walked aimlessly around after dinner. Without a time or a need to leave, with nowhere to be, there didn’t seem to be a natural moment to transition from the trappings of a common date to… starting the rest of their life together, to put it bluntly.

As they passed by the bar again, soft piano music was playing and Mills swung her in an arch that ended in his arms, inviting her to dance. She didn’t protest, letting him fold their clasped hands over his chest and pull her in. Resting her head on his shoulder, she sighed and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, swaying gently to the dreamy melody that floated around them.

His fingers found the groove of her spine, exposed by the dress, and ran his fingers up and down, up and down, slowly, across the dip in her back. She arched into him and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. He could feel the tip of her nose resting there, her soft lips, her hot breath on his skin.

He brought their joined hands to his lips and laid a kiss on her knuckles, just barely. She lifted her head to watch him ghost his lips over her skin and reached out for his face, tracing the line of his jaw. The gentle rasp of her silky fingertips against his stubble beckoned him closer, and he inched imperceptibly in with each stroke, until he could feel the warmth of her skin on his, their lips as close as they could be without touching.

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat softly and dispelled some of that gossamer magic, “don’t want to cast a pall over an evening as wonderful as this one, but I just have to say something.” He stopped for a moment and he could see a hundred thoughts swirling in her twinkling eyes, guessing at what he might say. If she was expecting a confession of love, it would not come yet, true as it may be even in that moment. “You changed everything for me.” He didn’t say the other things – the two years of indescribable solitude and despair, the vast nothingness that stretched endlessly in every direction around him, until there was her. She had heard scattered bits and pieces about it, and she would hear it all one day, but for now, that was all he could push past his lips.

“Julian,” she breathed his name and he could see an avalanche of compassion in her, crumbling her from within.

He kissed her knuckles again and smiled what he thought was a hopeful, loving smile. “You don’t have to respond. I just…couldn’t not say it, it’s the truth.”

Mills could see her contemplate what to say, almost starting sentences, and then deflating as she let them go. Finally, she seemed to decide the clearest way to express herself was to rise up on her toes and pull his head down for a kiss.

It was a slow, sensual exchange as she plucked a soft kiss from his lips, and another, testing how their lips fit against each other, and another, more demanding. The tip of his nose bumped gently against hers and she smiled into the kiss, lingering with her lips on his, and parted them, licking against the seam of his mouth. He locked his arms around her waist and pulled her in. The sudden bump into his hard body tore a sigh out of her and he savored it as they deepened the kiss. He could taste the wine she’d had in it, and it went on and on, the taste of her and the taste of him coming together. It stimulated every nerve, every delicious pleasure point in his body, until they finally emerged for air, popping apart with a wet smack and heaving chests.

She tugged on his arm, with endearing urgency, taking a few swift steps in the direction of their cabins. When he didn’t follow with the same haste, she spun around on him with an expression of earnest confusion.

“Before we go, I was hoping I could show you something,” his tone turned apologetic as he watched her.

She narrowed her eyes and considered how to phrase something that was obvious to him – there was no need to keep going with the pitch, he’d already made the sale. At some point, teasing out the tension between them would turn from tantalizing to infuriating.  

“I’d say that at this juncture, I was interested in you showing me just one thing, but you’re going in the wrong direction for that. But I was asked to refrain from making scandalous remarks.”

“It won’t take long. And I’ll make it worth your while,” he slouched contritely and deployed the puppiest of eyes at her.

She bit her lip, itching to throw out some innuendo that would knock him off course.

“No scandalous remarks,” he wagged a finger at her, which only made her eyes light up with a more devious twinkle of mischief.

“But you’re making it really hard for me,” she goaded him with her eyes to take the bait, and sighed dramatically. “But I guess I have to keep a stiff upper lip.” Her chin quivered with held in laughter. “Even though I’m swelling - to huge proportions - with this need to…”

“Have you finished?”

“Well, you know what they say, Julian - if you have to ask a woman that, the answer is likely no.”

He turned and walked away, using all his resolve not to indulge her and look back. The sound of heels clacking behind him, catching up, had the corner of his mouth ticking up.

“What is this place?” she asked when he finally stopped.

“One of the famous amenities aboard the ship of dreams,” Mills supplied. “It’s the prep room for the space walk.”

Her mouth parted as she battled awe and apprehension. He could see her gaze at the suits in wonderment before her eyes darted nervously around the area, and then the door leading to the tunnel. She was adorable when she was somewhat scared, he thought as his chest swelled up at the thought of being the one to encourage and comfort her.

“I had an unfortunate experience with one of these in the past…” Mills commented as he shucked on the heavy suit, hanging his borrowed jacket on one of the bars that previously held it.

“So naturally, you thought of giving the same experience to me,” her hand was on her hip again as she watched him suit up.

“No, I thought it might cure me of my aversion if I tried again in better company.”

Her doubtful expression melted into one of reluctant affection. “How could I refuse an offer like that?” She turned to the other suit and eyed it for a moment before clearing her throat. “Not really designed for a seamless transition from eveningwear…”

It took Mills a second too long to get her meaning. Her dress wouldn’t really allow her to put it on comfortably. He swallowed back a curse, but she chuckled. The sound was followed by the slick glide of a zipper and he caught an eyeful of her figure twisting itself elegantly as she undid her dress and let the two sides yawn open across her back. It took a huge effort of will, but Mills reminded himself he was some sort of gentleman, somewhere deep down, so he cast his eyes to his magnetic boots and shuffled around, ungainly and flustered.

The fabric rustled deliciously as it slid down her body and thumped on the floor, each sound inflaming his poor imagination further. The dress came skating by between his feet, pried apart by the size of the suit, as if he needed any more reminding of exactly what the image was behind him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he grumbled, his voice treacherously hoarse and strained.

“I didn’t,” he could hear the mischievous smile in her voice, followed by a gloating chuckle. “You worried about me being cold, commander?”

“Yeah, let’s go with that,” Mills gave up on any hope of banter, rendered too stupid as he staved off a hundred unhelpful thoughts and images. “It gets…chilly.”

“Can I say how much I admire your restraint of avoiding the word nippy?” she teased as she put on the suit and he had to admit he took some pleasure in hearing her struggle with the weight and fit.

“I appreciate it – I was sorely tempted to say it.”

*

The whole thing felt surreal.

You could stave off the roiling cluster of feelings – awe, trepidation, near paralysis at the expectation and the sheer unknowability of what you were about to experience – while you were teasing Julian. He was more infatuated, if not a lot more than infatuated, with you than anyone had ever been. That much was plain, and it had been for a while. He was also a complete hormonal mess. You shivered in your skin several times a day from the dark, heavy looks you caught from him. The only thing you couldn’t grasp fully was why he had waited so long to finally admit to it. But there was no rush, after all. So you decided to let it be.

There was an intoxicating sense of power surging through you as you undressed and stood there naked, staring at his back, smirking at the determined set of his back as he turned away. You suspected for a moment he might fall to his knees when he looked down and saw your dress sailing between his feet. Even struggling with the suit was something to do to keep your mind occupied, focusing on the holo’s instructions and taking in the sensations of the gravity boots pulling your feet heavily down to the floor. And then, all too soon, there were no more distractions.

You were outside the tunnel, feet planted on the platform exposing you to the outside.

You imagined a swallowing silence engulfing you, with nothing but the pounding of your heart to fill your head. And cold, pinching mercilessly at your skin. But it wasn’t like that.

There was a comforting hum, thumping all around you. As you grew accustomed to it, your own heart synchronized with the pulse of the universe. Like the inside of a celestial womb.

The cold never quite came either. Pushing off the platform, you felt yourself floating, a pleasant, comforting feeling. As though suspended in water the precise temperature of your body’s heat, you felt a gradual dissolving, like you were melting away. The ends of your fingers and toes, then the rest of the surface of your skin seemed to fade away so you couldn’t quite tell where you ended and the rest of everything began.

Tears flowed freely, without effort or distress. Finally some piece that had been jutting out of the puzzle slotted into place, smoothing out the landscape within you. This was the majesty you couldn’t quite conceptualize, the elusive why you couldn’t put into words when asked. This was the reason you were here, and had chosen to be here. Not the entire reason, perhaps, but certainly a part of it. This was yours to see and whatever you had been hoping for, it had far exceeded the hazy imagining.

You floated for an indeterminate amount of time, until you felt a tug of Julian’s arm against yours and turned back around, reeling yourself in by the tether.

Back inside the prep room, your helmets hissed as you removed them and yours clattered unceremoniously to the floor. Julian followed suit, dropping his by his feet and striding over to you. Your chests bumped together and you sprang apart. After another try, and another, you let out a frustrated little laugh. You couldn’t manage a kiss inside the suits no matter how much you strained and angled. Suddenly, you were off the ground. Julian had your suit by the collar and you instinctively grabbed for his wrists to get some purchase. In vain, it turned out, because he tossed you right down on the ground, next to the discarded helmets. The suit was so padded you didn’t feel a thing, laughing some more as he dropped to his knees next to you, coming at you from the side.

It was a frantic, messy affair; teeth and spit and smacking kisses and grunts as you shucked your suits off. You locked your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, hissing from the cold of the floor on your naked flesh. He stood you both up and his arms went to support your legs and ass, breaking a long, languid kiss when he felt fabric under his fingers. You watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he peered over your shoulder to catch a fleeting glimpse of your garters and lacy underwear. With a groan, his fingers snaked under the fabric and squeezed, and you responded by wrapping your legs tighter around him and grinding into him.

Your back slammed into a wall and you felt Julian readjust himself, grinding himself into you as he supported your undulating movements with his large hands splayed on your ass. His face buried itself into your neck and you ran your hands through his long hair, surrendering to the feeling of his body against yours, at last, eclipsing everything. His thrusts were deep and slow, sparking off your eager nerves, all the more so with the coarse fabric of his pants rubbing you so deliberately. He was already panting and wound tight as a string. You licked your lips to keep a moan in and took a breath. You might not make it to any cabin at all. Not as if you gave a damn, only the floor was rather cold and uncomfortable.

Julian seemed to come to a similar understanding, stilling himself with no little effort. You could feel his tense muscles shaking in protest. “Your place or mine?” he tossed his hair back and quirked a brow at you.

You nudged your nose against his and smacked another quick kiss into his lush lips. “Mine’s closer.”

*

Julian’s mouth was made for kissing, you decided, focusing on nothing more than the feel of it. Full and warm, as intent on you as you were on him, the kisses were sumptuous. Words like those existed to describe kisses like these.

By the time you staggered into your cabin, your head had cleared, if only very slightly. Julian had lost his shirt along the way and you were pretty sure he tore off one of your garters, and now you lay in your bed, buried in a mound of pillows, with his heavy, warm weight pressing you down.

He used his hold on your hair to arch your neck back, slid his other hand down your throat. As you ran a hand down his cheek, he pressed his face into it, eyes closed as though in prayer. It sent a hot wave of mixed emotions through you to realize just how starved for touch he was. Two years, rang the words in your head. All alone. Without hope for anything.

His teeth against your neck snapped you back into the moment and you arched under him like a cat. You had to admit you longed to be touched as much as he did. He propped himself up on his elbows now and then, when the wild, deep kissing ruffled you up. He meticulously brushed your hair out of the way, off your face, off your neck, for perfect mouth to skin contact. Like he was mapping out every inch of you. The kisses grew unhurried. Exploratory. Julian controlled the pace and pinned you down, moving out of the way when you got too eager. It was slow and teasing all the way until you shivered and surrendered for him, and then the tip of his tongue flicked out against your lower lip, sucking it in. As you gasped and leaned into him, he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue against yours and wrapping a large hand around your neck.

The urge to cry came and went several times a minute. There were many reasons to be in this bed, together, not the least of which was the need that had built up over time. But there was also the need for another human being, a hand in your hand, and warmth. You wondered, not for the first time, if you wanted this just to have Julian, or if you needed this to save what sanity you had. His hands roamed up from your waist and he grazed his thumb lightly over your nipple. You felt it tighten deliciously under his touch and licked your lips. He did it again and brought his mouth to it, sucking it in and swirling his tongue around it as it rolled lazily in the heat of his mouth. You clung to his shoulder and groaned. The urgency returned, worse than before.

“Ju-li-an-uh,” you whined and he looked up, kiss-bitten and beautifully disheveled. “Don’t go slow.” The look on his face told you he never intended to.

There was no more preparation between you, no hesitant, gentle love. You didn’t let it happen. Like devouring a meal after starving all day. You could savor him later, but this was vital, life and death.

You reached a hand under the mound of pillows and pulled out an accordion of condoms. He sat back on his heels and tore one off with his teeth a bit too eagerly. The nasty taste of lube made his nose scrunch and he craned his neck away from you, spitting. You smiled, taking a quick moment to look at him. A few hairs clung to the lightest sheen of perspiration across his face. He loomed over you, broad, pale chest heaving, his cheeks slightly flushed.

His teeth flashed in a sickle smile as he tore off another and carefully bit the foil. Julian gave himself a few dry strokes, hissing at the feeling, before rolling on the condom. The sensation wracked through his body, sending sculpted muscles rippling and you felt a wave of arousal at the sight. He noticed and watched you more closely then. With the flair of a performer, hungry to hear his audience in ecstasy, he palmed his thick shaft at the base in his huge palm and tantalizingly slid it on. You felt your cheeks burn, watching his cock jump and his hips involuntarily buck as the cool slick of the lubricant soothed his hot, aching cock. He rolled it all the way down and it gripped around the base tightly. It was the first time you thought the old argument that condoms were too small or uncomfortable for a man might hold some water.

You reached for his hips between your legs and he slithered back down, going in for another crushing kiss as he probed around your entrance just long enough to feel his tip nudge inside. Then he plunged all the way in, sinking deep and smooth and making your eyes shoot wide open. His pace was even, but relentless, quickly filling the room with sounds of slapping skin and squelching thrusts, with your mounting moans announcing when he found the best spots. With a curse, his hand came in between you, circling your clit insistently. Julian’s rhythm soon stuttered and you felt him twitch and then still inside you a few long moments before his fingers ground an electric orgasm out of you.

There was no break between the first messy coupling and the next, slower one. No one spoke and you just focused on the magnificent feeling of his beautiful, robust body on yours, and the hunger that was both being satiated and further stoked by the feeling of him inside you, filling you so completely and setting your pleasure points on fire. You felt it coil and build, like ratcheting up a rollercoaster, one dogged notch at a time, past what you thought you could take. And then, at last, suddenly, a drop and release. You came from deep within, feeling powerful contractions take over your body, leaving you nothing to do but see stars and let them wring you out.   

You were completely satisfied by then, happy to relax and meld into Julian’s warm body and contemplate the evening. But greed wouldn’t let either of you rest. It was ocean water, leaving you thirstier than before. As long as you could move, you could move together, as one. After a break, still swollen and used up, slicked up and dripping from the two fucks earlier, you locked eyes with Julian. His dark eyes flitted to your lips and your thigh went over his. That was all it took. He was inside you, slipping in easily through your puffy folds and stopping only when he fully bottomed out. You squirmed under him forever, already chafed and on the brink of displeasure. His hands teased your nipples before resorting to pulling them more harshly and biting, hands squeezing your ass until it brought tears to your eyes. The orgasm built forever, eluding you a few times and making you fist the sheets and kick your shaking legs in frustration. You were growling by the time he managed to fuck hard enough into your sore flesh to draw you out, his back bearing the brunt of your determination to ride it out. Bloodied grooves marred his sweaty back and your fingernails were red crescents. Neither of you could stand to be touched right then, buzzing and sparking off, so you rolled off each other. It was too much to be touching in the aftermath, when your bodies felt more like they’d been through a fight than intercourse. You stared at the ceiling, panting for a long time as you fought to catch your breath. The hyperventilation made your head spin and you threw an arm over your eyes, focused on steadying your breathing. Gradually, feeling returned to your body. Muscles stopped shaking, the white noise in your head started to clear and you felt back in control of yourself. The same must have happened to Julian because when you rolled over to lay your head over his chest, he was already hugging an arm around you. He pulled you close, closing a tight seam of flesh against flesh and kissed the top of your head. You felt his heart race under your hand as you rested on him and smiled into his chest. Before you drifted off, you returned a gentle kiss to his sternum and snuggled back into a comfortable position, letting exhaustion take you.

*