Page 87 of Shadows of Stardust

“Ros. Fuck. I’m going to—you don’t have to—”

But again, any attempts I might make at maintaining some fatesdamned decorum, of not asking more from her than I should, are stymied immediately.

Roslyn quickens the pace, takes me deeper, and I’m lost. I spill into the back of her throat with a hoarse shout, pleasure sizzling along every nerve ending, bliss that makes me entirely unable to do anything by surrender.

Entirely spent, it takes me a few long moments, but I finally gather enough wits about me to reach for Ros. She comes to me willingly, letting me pull her up and sprawl her across my lap.

Minutes pass in a hazy, satisfied stupor, and I’d give anything to make them last for an hour. All night.

Because, as the height of pleasure fades, the reality of what we just did starts creeping back in. Stark and unavoidable, I stew in the rising tide of shame and discomfort, completely at a loss for how to comprehend or explain it.

My loss of control. The frenzy between us. The complete abandonment of better sense and caution.

What the fuck we’re supposed to do now.

I shift in that discomfort, jostling Roslyn enough to draw her attention. She tilts her head up to meet my gaze, and whatever she sees there has any remnants of her own pleasure fleeing in an instant.

I hate it.

I hate seeing my own turmoil reflected back to me, hate to see that look of pleasure—the lookIput there—disappear.

“So, uh,” Roslyn says, shifting as well, moving like she’s about to lift herself off me. “That was…”

I tighten my arms and keep her right where she is.

She gasps in surprise, but letting her go feels impossible. Unthinkable. Sacrilegious, after everything we just shared.

“Yes, it was,” I say gruffly.

Whatit was, I can’t even begin to put into words, but maybe she feels it, too.

“And I’m sorry,” I continue, but rush to clarify when she stiffens against me. “Not that it… happened. That we didn’t… talk about it. Before it happened. That we didn’t…. I don’t know. Figure it out. Ahead of time.”

Again, I should not be allowed to speak.

I shouldn’t be allowed toemotelike this, make a mess of things like this, try to make sense of this tangle when I can barely—

Roslyn lets out a disgruntled little grunt. “Do we have to figure it out? We’re here. We’re working together. We’re obviously… attracted to each other. Needed to blow off a little steam, you know?”

“Blow off some steam,” I say slowly, unfamiliar with the expression.

Apt, though, this human idiom, given that I feel entirely wrung through and depleted. All out of steam, as it were.

Roslyn stiffens unexpectedly in my arms. “Unless… shit. Do you have an actual girlfriend? Or a wife or something? We should have clarified this way before we—”

“No,” I cut in. “No wife. No partner. Active Aux soldiers are not allowed to maintain those sorts of relationships.”

It’s never been a problem for me, or something I’ve much lamented. Over the past decade, I’ve rarely stayed longer than a handful of nights on any given port or planet. Not exactly conductive to fostering romantic connection or commitment.Something Roslyn likely knows just as well with her own years of service.

A new, darker thought strikes me.

Roslyn spent the last six monthsoutof service. Plenty of time to discover what she’d been missing during her years enlisted.

“What about you?” I can’t keep my tone entirely neutral, can’t stop the edge from creeping in. “Is there someone waiting for you back on Severin?”

She snorts, and that edge dulls. “If you’d ever actually been to Severin, you wouldn’t be asking me that question.”

“Is that a no?”

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