The ‘fresher on the Angel’s Breath was a closet with a drain, a utilitarian space of chrome and worn seals. Steam, thick and fragrant with the scent of ship’s soap, billowed from the open door, a rare luxury in the cold, thin air of the upper atmosphere. Mar’i, on her way to the galley for a late-night cup of caffeine, paused. The door was never left open. Curiosity, her ever-present companion, piqued.
She peered inside.
Kieran was there, perched on the small, fold-down ledge that served as a seat. She was partially undressed, her uniform tunic tossed aside, her lean, muscular torso bared. But it was her leg that held Mar’i’s attention. Her prosthetic leg, a marvel of brass, leather, and polished steel, lay detached on the floor beside her. Kieran was meticulously cleaning the socket, the part that fitted to her residual limb, her brow furrowed in concentration. She was so focused, so utterly absorbed in her task, that she didn’t notice the observer.
The sight was unexpectedly intimate. Kieran, the medic, the stoic, disciplined heart of their crew, was in a state of quiet vulnerability. Mar’i felt a pang, not of pity, but of a profound, tender connection. She knocked softly on the doorframe.
Kieran’s head snapped up, her grey eyes widening in surprise. A faint blush, almost invisible in the steam, colored her cheeks. She instinctively moved to cover herself, her arms crossing over her chest. “Mar’i. I… the door was stuck.”
“It’s okay,” Mar’i said, her voice a low, soothing murmur. She didn’t move from the doorway, giving the other woman space. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just saw the steam.” Her gaze drifted from Kieran’s flustered face to the intricate prosthetic on the floor. “That’s beautiful workmanship.”
Kieran’s blush deepened. She was a woman of action and medicine, not of compliments or casual intimacy. “It’s just… hardware. It gets grimy.”
“Let me help,” Mar’i offered, stepping into the small room before Kieran could protest. The space shrank around them, the air growing thick with their shared body heat. “You can’t reach all the angles properly. I can get the joints.”
Kieran opened her mouth to refuse, but the words wouldn’t come. Mar’i was already kneeling, her movements fluid and graceful. She picked up a soft cloth and the small tin of polish, her eyes scanning the complex machinery with an appreciative, almost reverent gaze. There was no pity in her expression, only a calm, accepting curiosity that disarmed Kieran’s defenses.
“Here,” Mar’i said softly, patting the edge of the tub. “Lean back. Relax.”
Hesitantly, Kieran complied, leaning against the tiled wall. Mar’i took Kieran’s residual limb into her hands. Her touch was gentle but firm, her fingers tracing the scars with a delicate touch that sent shivers through Kieran’s body. She began to clean the skin, her movements slow and methodical, a stark contrast to the frantic energy that usually defined her.
“You carry so much tension here,” Mar’i murmured, her thumbs pressing into a particularly tight spot of muscle. “Let it go, Kieran.”
A soft sigh escaped Kieran’s lips. The gentle, persistent pressure was melting away a lifetime of guardedness. She watched Mar’i’s hands, her dark, colorful hair a stark contrast to Kieran’s own practical, close-cropped style. Mar’i’s exotic nature, her easy sensuality, was like a force of nature, and Kieran found herself powerless to resist it.
Mar’i finished cleaning the skin and moved to the prosthetic itself, her fingers deftly working the polish into the joints. As she worked, her knuckles brushed against Kieran’s inner thigh. The touch was accidental, but it sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to Kieran’s core. Her breath hitched.
Mar’i looked up, her dark eyes meeting Kieran’s. She saw the raw, undisguised need there. She saw the shyness warring with desire. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face. She set the prosthetic aside, her task forgotten.
Her hands returned to Kieran’s body, this time with a different purpose. She traced the line of Kieran’s ribs, her touch no longer merely cleaning, but exploring. She leaned in, her lips finding the sensitive skin of Kieran’s neck.
“Mar’i…” Kieran breathed, the name a half-hearted protest.
“Shhh,” Mar’i whispered against her skin. “Just feel.” Her hands moved lower, sliding under the waistband of Kieran’s trousers. Her fingers found the slick, heated heat between Kieran’s legs, and Kieran gasped, her hips arching instinctively.
All thoughts of resistance evaporated. Kieran’s hands, which had been limp at her sides, came up to tangle in Mar’i’s hair, pulling her closer. Mar’i’s fingers were magic, stroking and circling with an intuitive skill that had Kieran seeing stars. She was a medic, accustomed to being in control, but now she was the one being cared for, being unraveled.
Mar’i captured her lips in a deep, searching kiss. It was a kiss of exploration and discovery, a sharing of breath and desire. Kieran responded with a hunger that surprised them both, her tongue meeting Mar’i’s in a passionate dance.
With a swift, practiced motion, Mar’i divested them both of their remaining clothing. Their bodies pressed together, skin on skin, a tangle of limbs and soft sighs. Mar’i’s mouth blazed a trail down Kieran’s body, her tongue tasting the salt of her skin, her teeth nipping at her collarbone, her breasts. She settled between Kieran’s thighs, her hands holding her hips steady.
Kieran cried out as Mar’i’s mouth found her most sensitive flesh. Her tongue was a flame, licking and probing with an exquisite, torturous skill. Kieran’s hands fisted in Mar’i’s hair, her body bucking against her face as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. It was a release she hadn’t known she was craving, a cleansing wave that washed away years of loneliness and self-reliance.
But Mar’i wasn’t done with her. She moved back up Kieran’s body, her lips claiming hers again, letting Kieran taste her own essence on her tongue. Then, she guided Kieran’s hand down her own body, pressing it against her own slick, swollen folds.
“Now you,” Mar’i whispered, her voice thick with desire. “Touch me.”
Kieran, emboldened by her own release, explored Mar’i’s body with a newfound confidence. Her fingers, skilled in the arts of healing and surgery, were just as skilled in the arts of pleasure. She found the rhythm that made Mar’i gasp, the spot that made her cry out. She watched Mar’i’s face, her expressive features a canvas of ecstasy, and felt a surge of power, of connection.
They moved together, their bodies finding a perfect, primal rhythm. Mar’i straddled Kieran’s thigh, grinding against her as Kieran’s fingers worked inside her. The pleasure built between them, a shared current of electric energy. Their kisses grew frantic, their breathing ragged.
“Look at me,” Mar’i commanded, her voice strained. “Kieran, look at me.”
Kieran’s eyes flew open, locking with Mar’i’s. In that moment of shared, unblinking intimacy, the world shattered. A powerful orgasm tore through them both, a simultaneous, explosive release that left them trembling and breathless in each other’s arms.
They lay tangled together on the narrow ledge, the steam still curling around them. Kieran rested her head on Mar’i’s shoulder, her body humming with a profound sense of peace. For the first time in a very long time, she didn’t feel alone. She felt whole.