I don’t want to move. It might break this spell. Could this be for real with him? A forever thing? I’ve never really thought in those terms before, never thought of myself as the marrying or settling-down one-man woman type.
We’ve been home for two weeks and I still don’t trust this happiness we have. A cosmos-changing switch in time blasted humanity’s future to the brink of destruction and here we are playing house.
Is it real? Has he forgiven me?
I take a deep breath and let the possibilities wash over me. Nico stirs and when I move to face him, he holds me tighter.
“Please stay. I like you right where you are,” he says, his voice still thick with sleep.
I can’t help but chuckle. “Okay, I’ll stay, but remember we’re at my place.”
He grunts, lifts his head and does a quick survey of the surroundings. “Oh...yeah.” He plops down on the pillow again. “In that case, please let me stay. I like being here.”
He kisses my shoulder and I feel his need growing apace with wakefulness. The nuzzling turns insistent. Explorative and hungry. I feel my own desire rising to match his.
He flips me onto my back and settles between my thighs as his lips move from my neck to my breasts. He brushes a thumb across my nipple and my body shudders in response.
“Just think: We could have done this last night,” I say, teasingly, because my own appetite is now as ravenous as if I haven’t eaten—metaphorically speaking—in years.
His eyes hold all the hesitancy and concern that had postponed our intimacy the night before. “The doctor just cleared you from the concussion from the rake to the head you took a few weeks ago. I want to be careful,” he replies. One arm cradles my neck, his free hand drifting down between my legs. It’s slick, warm, and ready. He plants a soft kiss on my lips and smiles. “I do like how you rise to the occasion, though.”
“I think that’s my line,” I say, and we laugh. It feels as good as the moment we join. It has been months since we’ve laughed without wondering what fresh hell was around the next corner.
When we join, the rhythm is gentle, slow; I feel his caution, still not wanting to push too hard in case any overzealous jostling causes a concussion flare up.
“I really am fine, you know,” I say as he brushes his nose against mine.
Our eyes lock and we share a near-kissing breath as we continue to move together.
He feels so damn good. I could stay here forever.
“I know,” he says.
“So don’t hold back. Love me like you used to.” I cup his buttocks and pull him in closer, lifting my hips, matching his movements to encourage the coupling I want. He gasps.
“No, not like we used to. This is something new.” The sweet and tender kisses turn fierce as gentleness yields to a deeper, rougher drive.
“That was...” Nico says, after, searching for the right word. “What’s a stronger word than earth-moving?”
Depending on the situation, the after-play is usually one of two things: euphoric or awkward. The latter usually motivates me to escape as quickly as possible. For the first time, ever, I’m euphoric. I yearn to slow time and stay right where I am.
“Gloriously perfect.” I finish his thought. I feel his head raise off his pillow. Unused to effusive praise where our sexual arrangement is concerned, he gazes at me a measure of uncertainty.
As I nestle into the crook of his arm, I place my fingers on his lips. “Hush. Let’s just enjoy what we have right now. This moment. Who knows how long we get to keep it?”
He wraps his arms around me, settling into the embrace. “Roger that.”
The CommLink panel on the bedside table buzzes. “Merde.” I say. “Did you time that?”
“Yep,” Nico replies with a sigh. “Duration of post-coitus total bliss: two minutes, tops.”
Home Computer announces: Fagin Delacroix calling.
“On speaker,” I reply. “No visual.”
Fagin’s voice comes over the line. “Dodger? Something wrong with your camera?”
“Nope. I have company.”
“Hey, Fagin,” Nico says.
“Nico,” Fagin says. There’s a brief pause. “I’m glad you’re there, too. it saves me a call. I’m going out of town. I’ll check messages as I can, but I’ll be unavailable a while.”
“You have permission to travel?” Nico asks, confused. He pushes up onto one elbow, listening more intently. The three of us have been on judicial lockdown, confined to base, since we got home. Tidying up the loose ends of our agreement with Commander Carter—and debriefing the Temporal Agency on the minutiae of our misadventures manifested itself in a shitload of post-mission mandatory meetings.
“You must be done with your obligations here. Good to know there’s light at the end of that tunnel that isn’t a fucking freight train,” I say. “You going to see Isabella?”
There’s a lengthier pause on the other end of the CommLink. “I’ll let you know when I’m back. I just didn’t want you to worry if you don’t hear from me for a while.”
“She ignored my question,” I mouth to Nico.
His eyebrows lift, and he mouths in reply. “Not good.”
“Fagin—” I say, wanting to question more, but she cuts me off.
“Look, I have to go. I just wanted to talk to you before I...before I left.”
“Why don’t you stop by for coffee,” Nico says, trying to keep her on the line. “I’ll even make breakfast. Bacon. Eggs. Whatever you want.”
“I can’t,” she replies, her voice sounding strained. “You two just take care of each other. I’ll see you when I get back. And Dodger,” she pauses, “I love you.”
“End of transmission,” the computer announces.
“What the hell was that?” Nico asks, as I jump out of bed, and grab my robe.
I shake my head. “Computer, call Fagin back.”
The line rings numerous times before going to voicemail.
“Redial Fagin’s number.”
This time, the phone goes to voicemail without
