Page 61 of Return to Sender
His response is wordless but extremely comprehensive, involving the kind of thorough attention to detail that makes me grateful for his perfectionist tendencies in all areas of life. By the time we’re both breathing hard and significantly less clothed, the mission briefing is approximately the last thing on my mind.
“You know,” I gasp as his mouth finds that particularly sensitive spot just below my ear, “we should probably establish a formal schedule for these quality assurance sessions. Maybe implement some kind of... regular maintenance protocol.”
Wi’kar’s laugh vibrates against my throat, rich with satisfaction and the kind of deep affection that still makes my chest warm with wonder. “I believe,” he murmurs, his hands mapping familiar territory with renewed appreciation, “that can be incorporated into our operational framework.”
The patterns across his skin are brilliant now, swirling from deep purple to crimson to that particular shade of midnight blue that means complete abandonment of professional control. Fifteen months ago, seeing him this thoroughly undone would have felt like winning some kind of victory. Now, it just feels like coming home.
“Excellent,” I manage, arching into his touch as his clever fingers find exactly where I need them most. “Because I have several suggestions for... performance optimization that I’ve been wanting to discuss.”
His eyes meet mine, silver-flecked irises dark with desire but warm with something infinitely deeper. “Your suggestions are always... thoroughly researched and expertly implemented.”
“And enthusiastically tested,” I agree, pulling him down for another kiss that tastes like promises and partnership and the kind of future neither of us dared imagine when we were just a runaway princess and an uptight courier accidentally bound by diplomatic protocols we didn’t understand.
What follows is... comprehensive. Wi’kar has always approached intimate activities with the same methodical thoroughness he brings to everything else, but fifteen months of marriage has refined his technique from careful precision to devastating expertise. He knows exactly where to touch, how much pressure to apply, which combinations of sensation will make me gasp his name like a prayer.
And I’ve learned his responses just as thoroughly. The way his patterns pulse brighter when I trail my fingers down his spine. How his breathing changes when I bite that spot on his shoulder. The precise angle that makes him lose his carefully maintained control and growl my name in that possessive tone that never fails to send heat racing through my veins.
By the time he’s buried deep inside me, moving with that perfect rhythm that suggests extensive research into optimal performance parameters, I’m already approaching the kind of release that makes me grateful for our quarters’ soundproofing systems.
“Mine,” he murmurs against my throat, the word carrying layers of meaning that go far beyond simple possession. It’s acknowledgment of choice, commitment, the deliberate decision to build a life together despite the chaos that brought us to this point.
“Yours,” I agree breathlessly, meeting his thrusts with my own demanding rhythm. “Always yours. Your partner, your mate, your perfectly matched chaos agent.”
The combination of physical sensation and emotional connection pushes us both toward that edge where consciousthought dissolves into pure feeling. When I finally shatter around him, crying out his name in complete abandon, the bond between us flares so brightly that for a moment I lose track of where I end and he begins.
Wi’kar follows me over that edge seconds later, burying himself deep inside me with one final thrust, his patterns flaring brilliant white as he finds his release. My name is a broken prayer on his lips, reverent and possessive and utterly satisfied.
In the aftermath, we remain tangled together, his weight a comforting pressure as our breathing gradually returns to normal. The patterns across his skin have settled into warm golden glow—contentment, satisfaction, the quiet joy of perfect compatibility.
“You know,” I murmur, tracing lazy patterns on his chest where the luminescence pulses gently under my touch, “for someone who claims to prioritize efficiency, you certainly take your time with quality assurance procedures.”
His laugh rumbles through his chest, warm and genuinely amused. “Comprehensive testing requires appropriate attention to detail. Rushing the process would compromise the reliability of our results.”
“Results,” I repeat with fond exasperation. “Even after mind-blowing sex, you’re still speaking in technical terminology.”
“Mind-blowing sex,” he muses thoughtfully. “An interesting description. My cognitive functions appear to be operating normally, though I acknowledge certain... alterations in baseline neurochemistry consistent with optimal satisfaction parameters.”
I stare at him for a long moment, then burst into laughter. “Did you just analyze our sex life using scientific methodology?”
“I prefer to think of it as comprehensive performance evaluation,” he replies with perfect seriousness, though thegolden patterns on his skin pulse brighter with amusement. “With extremely positive results across all measured criteria.”
“Extremely positive results,” I echo, shaking my head in wonder. “Wi’kar, I love you madly, but sometimes I think AXIS has more romantic vocabulary than you do.”
“AXIS’s romantic vocabulary consists primarily of euphemisms and strategic mission terminology,” he points out reasonably. “My expressions of affection are based on precise observation and empirical evidence.”
“Empirical evidence,” I repeat, grinning despite myself. “Such as?”
His expression grows more serious, though the golden patterns continue to pulse with warmth. “Such as the measurable increase in my overall life satisfaction since our partnership began. The significant improvement in my mission performance when working with you. The way my stress levels decrease dramatically in your presence, and my productivity increases when we’re operating as a team.”
He pauses, his hand coming up to cup my cheek with gentle precision. “And the observable fact that you are the first thing I think about when I wake and the last thing I consider before sleep. These are quantifiable indicators of... profound attachment.”
The simple declaration steals my breath more effectively than our passionate encounter. Even after fifteen months of marriage, these moments of raw honesty from my usually reserved husband catch me completely off guard.
“Wi’kar,” I whisper, turning my head to press a kiss to his palm. “That was actually incredibly romantic.”
“Was it?” One eyebrow arches in an expression of genuine curiosity. “I was attempting to provide accurate data regarding my emotional state.”
“Accurate data that happens to be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I clarify, snuggling closer to him. “And completely reciprocated. You’re my favorite person in the entire galaxy, my perfect partner, and the only man who’s ever made me feel like myself instead of some political asset.”
