## Chapter 1 — Wait a Fucking Minute For once, the safehouse was quiet without anybody being injured. Ace distrusted it immediately. She sat curled into one corner of the sofa, one bare foot tucked beneath her, coffee within reach and an open financial summary floating above her agent. Mai occupied the other end. Shammy had taken the floor with her back against the sofa, silver-white hair spilling over one shoulder while she worked through something on her own display. Brenda and Iris were somewhere deeper in the safehouse. No alarms. No weapons on the table. No call from Rogue. No urgent message beginning with the kind of sentence that usually ended with somebody bleeding. Just numbers. Ace scrolled. Stopped. Scrolled back. The numbers remained the same. That was still taking some getting used to. For too long, money had existed as something they had enough of right up until they didn't. Not poverty. Not even close. They had assets. Income. Contracts. The company. Enough expensive equipment to make any ordinary mercenary deeply offensive to taxation. But there had still been weight behind every large decision. A quiet calculation. What came in. What went out. What could be committed. What needed to remain untouched. What happened if three jobs went bad in the same month. What happened if somebody needed Victor. What happened if Night City did what Night City always eventually did and decided to charge interest on being alive. Now Ace looked at the figures again. That weight was gone. Not magically. Not infinitely. But gone enough. She took a drink of coffee. Scrolled to another page. Read it. Went back. Mai looked over. “What?” Ace didn't answer. Mai waited. Ace frowned at the numbers. Something was bothering her. Not a problem. The opposite. There was something in the new reality she hadn't noticed yet. A consequence. She opened another projection. Then another. Shammy glanced up. “Ace?” “Hm?” “You've been staring at the same three numbers for five minutes.” “I have not.” “You have.” Mai looked toward Shammy. “She has.” Ace gave both of them a look. “I am thinking.” “That,” Mai said, “is exactly what worries me.” Ace ignored her. The figures hovered. Reserves. Projected revenue. Operating costs. Available liquidity. She understood all of it. That wasn't what was bothering her. Ace leaned back. Her eyes moved away from the display. She thought about buying something. No. Too obvious. Equipment? No. They already bought what they needed. Property? Boring. Coffee? Technically possible in quantities that could destabilize regional supply. Interesting, but not it. Travel. Ace's eyes narrowed. Travel. Crystal Palace. Her brain stopped. Mai saw it happen. “Oh, no.” Ace slowly turned her head. “What?” “That expression.” “What expression?” “The one where something just connected.” “Things connect all the time.” “Not like that.” Shammy looked between them. Ace ignored both. Crystal Palace had always occupied a strange category in her head. Not inaccessible. They had been there repeatedly. Stayed there. Worked there. Played there. Spent obscene amounts of money there without pretending otherwise. But it was still an **event**. Something that involved planning. Schedules. Rooms. Transport. People. A reason. Even when the reason had eventually become little more than _we want to go back_, there had still been logistics wrapped around it. Ace looked at the numbers again. Then at nothing. A thought arrived. She could go to Crystal Palace. Not as part of a group. Not for two weeks. Not for business. Not because Palace had requested something. She could just... Go. Ace sat up. Shammy noticed. Mai definitely noticed. Ace didn't. Because the second thought had already arrived. Marcus. Everything inside her went abruptly quiet. Then very much not quiet. Memory supplied him without being asked. Grey in his hair. Broad shoulders. That amused face. The calm confidence that never needed to announce itself. His hand at the back of her neck. His voice. The way he had looked at her the last time they met. The way he remembered what she liked. The way he paid attention. Ace's stomach tightened pleasantly. “Oh.” Mai lowered her display. “What?” Ace reached for her agent. She didn't open transport. Didn't check departures. Didn't check rooms. Didn't check prices. First things first. She changed identities inside the communication layer. Not Ace. **Amber O'Sullivan.** Her contacts shifted. She found Marcus almost immediately. For one second, her thumb hovered over the conversation. Then she typed. **Amber:** Are you at the Palace? Send. Mai watched her. Ace stared at the screen. Shammy had stopped pretending not to. Nothing happened. Three seconds. Five. Eight. Ace took another drink of coffee. Her agent chimed. She nearly inhaled it. Mai's mouth twitched. Ace opened the message. **Marcus:** Yes. Ace smiled. Just one word. Enough. Then another message appeared. **Marcus:** Why? Ace stared at it. Mai leaned slightly closer. Ace angled the screen away. “Privacy.” “I didn't ask.” “You were looking.” “I have eyes.” “Use them somewhere else.” Mai smiled. Ace looked back at Marcus's message. She typed. Stopped. Deleted it. Typed again. **Amber:** Checking something. The reply arrived quickly. **Marcus:** That sounds suspicious. Amber's smile widened. **Amber:** Since when has that bothered you? Pause. Then: **Marcus:** It usually means I should hydrate. Ace made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cough. Shammy turned around fully. “What?” “Nothing.” Mai's eyebrows rose. “Marcus?” Ace froze. That was enough. Mai looked at her agent. Then at Ace. Then at the financial display still hovering beside her. Understanding began assembling. Ace saw it. “Oh.” Mai pointed. “Don't ‘oh’ me.” Ace's smile became brighter. Shammy looked at Mai. Mai looked at Shammy. Then both looked at Ace. Ace lowered her coffee. “Wait a fucking minute.” Mai closed her eyes. “There it is.” Ace ignored her. She opened transport. Prices appeared. Schedules. Available departures. Orbital connections. Her eyes moved across them rapidly. Then stopped. She looked at the price. Old reflex. Automatic. A tiny calculation. Then she looked back at the financial summary. The two numbers existed beside one another. Ace stared. The travel cost had not become small. It had become irrelevant. Her mouth opened slightly. Shammy saw. “What?” Ace looked at her. “I can go.” “To the Palace?” “Yes.” Shammy blinked. Mai did not. She already knew. Ace sat forward. “I can just fucking go.” Mai folded her arms. “Yes.” “I don't have to wait for everyone.” “No.” “I don't need a contract.” “No.” “I don't need Palace to invite us.” “No.” “I don't need to justify the travel cost with business.” Mai's mouth began betraying her. “No.” Ace looked back at the departures. Then at Marcus's conversation. Then at Mai. “Marcus is there.” “Yes, Ace.” “And I can go there.” “Yes, Ace.” “Whenever I want.” Mai finally laughed. “Yes, Ace. Whenever you want.” Ace stared at her as though Mai had somehow failed to appreciate the magnitude of the discovery. “You understand what this means?” “I think I understand exactly what this means.” Shammy covered her mouth. Ace pointed at both of them. “Stop.” Neither had said anything. That made it worse. Ace looked back at the agent. There was a departure later that day. Not absurdly later. Not inconvenient. Later enough to pack. Later enough to activate Amber properly. Later enough to get to the terminal without needing Reyes to drive through a wall. Ace selected it. Did not book yet. She opened Marcus's conversation again. **Amber:** Hypothetically. Marcus answered almost immediately. **Marcus:** No. Ace stared. **Amber:** I haven't asked anything yet. **Marcus:** You started with “hypothetically.” **Amber:** Rude. **Marcus:** Experienced. Mai saw Ace's expression and started laughing again. Ace ignored her. **Amber:** Hypothetically, what would you say if I told you I could be there tonight? This time the reply did not arrive immediately. Ace watched the indicator appear. Disappear. Appear again. Her heartbeat changed. Stupid. She knew Marcus. She had slept with Marcus. More than once. She had done things with Marcus that made a text message objectively ridiculous as a source of nerves. And yet she sat there waiting. The reply appeared. **Marcus:** I would ask whether you're serious. Ace's smile faded slightly. Not because the answer disappointed her. Because he was asking properly. No assumption. No performance. She looked at the transport window again. Then the financial summary. Then Mai. Mai met her eyes. No teasing now. Ace didn't need permission. Neither of them worked that way. But Mai knew exactly what she was considering. And Ace cared what Mai felt about it. Mai's expression softened. “Do you want to go?” Ace looked down at the conversation. Marcus. The memory came back immediately. Not generic sex. Not merely Palace excess. Marcus. His humor. His patience. His infuriating confidence. The way he had once challenged her about something she had been curious about and then, when the time finally came, treated that curiosity with enough care that it had become something else entirely. Something Ace had thought about afterward. More than once. More than she had admitted. “Yes.” Mai smiled. “Then go.” Ace looked at her. Mai shrugged one shoulder. “You've spent months remembering him.” Ace stared. Shammy made a tiny sound. Ace pointed at Mai. “That was classified.” “It was visible from orbit.” “Traitor.” Mai's smile warmed. “Go see Marcus.” Ace held her gaze for another second. Then looked back at the agent. Her fingers moved. **Amber:** I'm serious. The reply took six seconds. Ace counted all of them. **Marcus:** Then come see me. Her entire face changed. Mai saw it. Shammy saw it. Ace didn't care. She looked at the departure. Selected it. Pressed confirm. Booked. For several seconds she simply stared at the confirmation. That was it. No committee. No business rationale. No complicated calendar negotiation. No group planning. No spreadsheet. She had wanted to go. So she was going. Ace leaned back slowly. “Holy shit.” Mai laughed. “What?” “I just booked a flight to Crystal Palace because I want Marcus.” Shammy collapsed sideways against the sofa. Mai covered her face. Ace looked between them. “What?” Mai lowered her hand. “Nothing.” “No, say it.” “I was just thinking about all the things we could do with financial freedom.” Ace narrowed her eyes. “And?” “And apparently this was near the top of your list.” “It wasn't on the list.” “That makes it better.” Ace picked up a cushion. Mai raised one finger. “You throw that, I tell Brenda.” Ace froze. Shammy started laughing harder. “You wouldn't.” “Try me.” Ace slowly lowered the cushion. “Hostile environment.” Mai leaned closer and kissed her temple. Ace's expression softened immediately. Then the agent chimed. Marcus. Ace opened it. **Marcus:** When do you arrive? She sent the time. His response came a moment later. **Marcus:** I'll be here. Ace looked at the words. Simple. No swagger. No joke. Something warm settled beneath the excitement. She typed: **Amber:** Good. Then stopped. Added: **Amber:** I've missed you. Her thumb hovered. That felt more exposed than everything else she had sent. Which was ridiculous. Still. She sent it. Marcus took longer this time. Ace waited. The answer arrived. **Marcus:** I've missed you too. Then, several seconds later: **Marcus:** Still curious? Ace stopped breathing for exactly one beat. Mai saw it. “Oh, fuck.” Ace looked up. Mai knew. Not the message. The context. That was worse. Shammy looked between them. “What?” Ace ignored her. Her pulse had moved lower. Marcus knew exactly what he was asking. So did Amber. She stared at the message. The memory was no longer merely warm. It had teeth. Amber's first answer came to mind immediately. She typed it. Looked at it. Sent. **Amber:** Curious isn't the word anymore. The indicator appeared. Marcus replied: **Marcus:** No? Amber smiled slowly. **Amber:** I know I like it now. Pause. Then: **Marcus:** Ah. Ace actually laughed. **Amber:** Don't you fucking “ah” me. **Marcus:** I'm nearly sixty. I'm allowed one “ah.” **Amber:** Bullshit. **Marcus:** You coming here to argue? Ace's grin widened. **Amber:** Among other things. This pause was longer. Then: **Marcus:** Good. Ace read that one twice. Mai leaned back into the sofa. “So.” Ace closed the conversation. “No.” “I haven't asked anything.” “You were about to.” “I was going to ask when you're leaving.” Ace looked at the departure confirmation. Then at the current time. Her eyes widened. “Oh.” Mai laughed. “There she is.” Ace stood. Fast. “Okay.” Shammy looked up. “Packing?” “Yes.” “Amber?” “Yes.” “Marcus?” Ace grabbed her coffee. “Yes.” Mai watched her take three steps toward the corridor. “Ace.” Ace turned. Mai was smiling. Not teasing. Not now. “Have fun.” Ace's expression softened. “I will.” Mai held her gaze. “And come home to me.” For a moment, everything else disappeared. The Palace. Marcus. The flight. The thrill already gathering under Ace's skin. She looked at Mai and smiled. Small. Real. “Always.” Then she turned and headed down the corridor toward the bedroom she shared with Mai and Shammy. Behind her, Shammy waited until Ace was gone. Then looked at Mai. Mai looked back. Shammy's hair lifted slightly. “She is going to be impossible when she gets back.” Mai picked up her coffee. “She is impossible now.” From down the corridor: “I CAN HEAR YOU.” Mai smiled into the cup. “I know.” --- ## Chapter 2 — Because I Can Ace made it to the bedroom. Then stopped in the doorway. The problem was not packing. The problem was that she suddenly had opinions. A lot of them. The bed became the first casualty. One dress. Then another. Shorts. Two tops. A jacket she immediately rejected. Another one she liked until she imagined arriving in it, at which point she rejected that too. Shoes. More shoes. Ace stood with both hands on her hips and stared at the growing arrangement. “This is stupid.” Mai appeared behind her. “Yes.” Ace turned. “I wasn't asking.” “I know.” Mai stepped into the room and looked at the bed. Then at Ace. Then back at the bed. “How long are you going?” Ace checked the booking. “Not long.” Mai pointed. “You appear to be packing for regime change.” “I need options.” “For Marcus?” “For me.” Mai's eyebrows rose. Ace pointed at her. “Do not.” “I said nothing.” “Your face did.” Mai came closer. One of the dresses lay across the foot of the bed. She picked it up. Ace watched. Mai held it against her. “No.” Ace blinked. “That was one of the finalists.” “Was.” “Why?” Mai looked at the dress. Then at Ace. “Too serious.” Ace stared. “You've been helping Lena too much.” “Probably.” Mai put it aside and reached for another. This one made her pause. Ace saw it. “That one?” Mai held it out. “Marcus will like this one.” Ace narrowed her eyes. “You sound suspiciously certain.” “I have met Marcus.” “So have I.” “Repeatedly.” “Yes.” Mai smiled. “Quite thoroughly.” Ace snatched the dress from her. “You are becoming extremely unhelpful.” “I'm helping.” “You're enjoying this.” “Those can coexist.” Ace looked at the dress again. Then folded it. Into the bag. Mai said nothing. Ace looked up. “Not one word.” Mai mimed locking her mouth. Ace returned to packing. Her agent chimed. Both women looked toward it. Ace moved first. Marcus. Her pulse gave one pleased little kick. She opened the message. **Marcus:** How spontaneous is this? Ace smiled. **Amber:** Very. **Marcus:** As in you were already planning a trip? **Amber:** No. Pause. **Marcus:** You woke up today and decided to come to orbit? Ace glanced toward Mai. Mai was openly reading her expression now. Ace typed. **Amber:** I woke up today and realized I could. Marcus took a little longer. **Marcus:** That's different. Ace stopped. He understood immediately. Not the accounting. Not the exact reason. The difference. She looked at the financial window still minimized in the corner of her agent. Then back to the message. **Amber:** Yes. Another pause. **Marcus:** Good different? Ace smiled. **Amber:** Very. **Marcus:** Then I'm glad I'm here. Something warm moved through her. Not lust this time. Not quite. She typed: **Amber:** So am I. She sent it. The conversation remained open for several seconds. No new message. Ace almost put the agent away. Then: **Marcus:** Do Maeve and the others know you're coming? Ace laughed. Mai looked up. “What?” Ace turned the screen. Mai read it. Her mouth curved. “Answer him.” Ace did. **Amber:** Maeve knows. A second message followed. **Amber:** She told me to be greedy. Mai stared at her. “You did not.” Ace hit send. “Ace.” “Too late.” The reply arrived. **Marcus:** She did? Mai reached for the agent. Ace dodged. “No.” “Give me that.” “Private communication.” “You quoted me.” “Historical record.” “Ace.” Another message. **Marcus:** Tell your wife that is irresponsible advice. Ace burst out laughing. Mai froze. Then her expression transformed. “Give me the agent.” “No.” “Amber.” Ace backed around the bed. Mai followed. “You told him.” “I told him exactly what you said.” “I want to answer.” “You have your own agent.” “He messaged my wife.” There it was. Cover language. Natural. Effortless. Amber was not even fully assembled yet, but the O'Sullivan marriage had already slipped into the room as easily as breathing. Ace grinned. “Jealous?” Mai stopped. Looked at her. Then smiled slowly. “Oh, sweetheart.” Ace immediately regretted the question. Mai stepped closer. “You are about to travel to Crystal Palace to spend a couple of days getting thoroughly fucked by a man you have been thinking about for months.” Ace opened her mouth. Mai put one finger against her lips. “And you are asking whether I'm jealous because he called you my wife.” Ace stared. Mai removed the finger. “Try again.” Ace considered. “No.” “Better.” The agent chimed again. Ace looked. **Marcus:** Actually, don't tell her that. Then: **Marcus:** I remember Maeve. Mai leaned over Ace's shoulder and read it. Ace felt her begin laughing before she heard it. “See?” “Shut up.” Ace typed. **Amber:** Too late. She's here. **Marcus:** Of course she is. **Amber:** She says hello. Mai nudged her. “I did not.” Ace continued. **Amber:** And that she stands by the advice. Mai stared at her. “I am going to throw you out of this building.” Ace sent it. “You'd have to carry my bag.” Marcus replied. **Marcus:** Still irresponsible. Then: **Marcus:** Tell her I'll do my best. Ace went completely still. Mai read over her shoulder. Silence. Ace slowly lowered the agent. Mai's eyebrows rose. “Oh.” Ace pointed at her. “Don't.” Mai's smile became unbearable. “Didn't say anything.” “Your face.” “My face is innocent.” “Your face has never been innocent.” Mai kissed the top of her head. “Pack.” Ace muttered something impolite and turned back toward the bed. Her agent chimed again. Not Marcus. Mandi's booking channel. Ace glanced at it without much interest. The routing markers changed that. A professional inquiry. She opened it. Read the first lines. Stopped. Recognition came almost immediately. “Ah.” Mai looked toward her. Ace kept reading. Then smiled. “Her…” The memory arrived without needing a name. A room. Warm light. A woman Ace had liked almost immediately. Not only attractive. Easy. Funny. Comfortable with herself. The kind of person who had made the line between work and mutual enjoyment pleasantly irrelevant once everyone involved had decided where the evening was going. Ace remembered kissing her. Remembered laughing with her. Remembered the way the woman had touched her afterward, unhurried and affectionate, without turning the moment into anything heavier than it needed to be. And yes. Ace remembered the sex. Very fondly. Her smile deepened. Mai noticed. “Someone you like.” It wasn't a question. Ace nodded absently. “Yeah.” She continued reading. The inquiry was straightforward. A whole evening. Private. Exclusive. No event. No performance obligations beyond spending the evening together. And then Ace reached the offer. She stopped. Scrolled back. Read it again. Mai saw her expression. “How much?” Ace did not answer. Mai came closer. Ace angled the display away on reflex. “Client privacy.” “I didn't ask who.” Ace looked at the number a third time. “That is ridiculous.” Mai smiled. “Good ridiculous?” “Stupid ridiculous.” “How stupid?” Ace considered. Then shook her head. “No.” Mai laughed. “That much.” Ace sat down on the edge of the bed. The number remained there. Not long ago, it would have changed the day. Even if she had already wanted to go somewhere else, a number like that would at least have forced a proper discussion. Not because anyone could buy her against her will. Never that. Because opportunity had weight. Money had consequences. A single evening could pay for things. Protect against things. Build room around future problems. Ace looked at the offer. Then at the bag. Marcus's last message still sat in the adjacent conversation. **I'll do my best.** Ace smiled. The decision was absurdly easy. That was new. She opened the inquiry response. Typed. **Mandi:** Ask me again next week. She paused. The woman came back to her mind. Warm. Fun. Very enjoyable. Ace added: **Mandi:** If she's still interested. Send. Done. She put the agent down. Mai had been watching her. “You turned it down.” “Postponed.” “For Marcus.” Ace picked up a folded top. “Yes.” Mai smiled. Ace put the top into the bag. Then stopped. She looked back at the agent. At the closed inquiry. Something about it tugged at her. Not regret. Definitely not regret. Recognition. “That was weird.” Mai sat beside her. “What was?” Ace gestured toward the agent. “I liked her.” “I noticed.” “I'd absolutely spend another evening with her.” Mai nodded. “And she offered enough that six months ago I'd have at least sat down and done the math.” “But you didn't.” “No.” “Because you already had plans.” Ace looked at her. “I've had plans for twenty minutes.” Mai smiled. “Still plans.” Ace glanced toward the bag. Then toward the minimized Marcus conversation. “It didn't matter.” “The money?” “Not enough.” Mai waited. Ace tried to put the feeling into words. “The money was still stupid.” “Yes.” “And I want to see her again.” “Yes.” “But I want Marcus now.” Mai's expression softened. Ace looked down at her hands. “And I don't have to move what I want out of the way because the number is big.” There. That was it. Not wealth. Not luxury. Not Crystal Palace. Choice without pressure leaning against it. Mai touched the back of Ace's hand. “No.” Ace looked up. “You don't.” Ace smiled. Slowly. Then she laughed. “Jesus Christ.” “What?” “I might actually become irresponsible.” Mai stared at her. Ace stared back. Mai began laughing. “What?” “Ace.” “What?” “You went to Jig-Jig Street as a luxury joytoy because you were curious.” “Yes.” “You voluntarily returned.” “Yes.” “You have an orbital fuckbuddy.” Ace's eyebrows rose. “Marcus is not just a fuckbuddy.” Mai smiled. “Noted.” “And?” “And you are only now worried about becoming irresponsible?” Ace considered. “Fair.” Mai kissed her cheek. “Come on.” Ace looked toward the wardrobe. “ChromeLock.” “ChromeLock.” Now the preparation changed. Packing had been Ace deciding what Amber needed. This was becoming Amber. Ace knew the sequence. Hair first. Always. She set everything out properly rather than rushing because familiarity was not an excuse for sloppiness. Mai stayed. Not because Ace needed assistance. Because neither of them had anywhere better to be for the next few minutes. The pigment went in. ChromeLock took hold. Black disappeared beneath blonde. Not long blonde. Never long. Ace's own short silhouette remained exactly where it belonged. The color changed the face around it anyway. Brighter. Softer at first glance. Different enough. Amber enough. Mai watched the transformation settle. Ace checked the mirror. “Okay.” “Almost.” Ace reached for the contacts. Blue. Another familiar transition. One eye. Then the other. She blinked. Looked up. Amber O'Sullivan stared back from the mirror. One hundred and forty-five centimeters. Short blonde hair. Blue eyes. Ace underneath every millimeter. Mai moved into the reflection behind her. For a moment neither spoke. Amber smiled first. “Well?” Mai looked at her carefully. Not assessing disguise quality. Not really. Her gaze traveled through the cover because she had never had trouble seeing the woman beneath it. “My wife is going to Crystal Palace without me.” Amber's grin appeared immediately. “Jealous now?” Maeve was not standing behind her. Mai was. That mattered here. But the smile she gave Amber belonged easily inside either life. “No.” Amber turned. Mai stepped closer. “But if Marcus damages my wife, I'm billing him.” Amber burst out laughing. “For what?” “Depreciation.” “You bitch.” “Contractual language.” Amber wrapped her arms around Mai's waist. Mai's hands settled against her back. The laughter faded naturally. Amber rested against her for a moment. This part felt important too. The cover was active now. Publicly, legally, Amber O'Sullivan existed. Marcus knew Amber. Marcus wanted Amber. Amber wanted Marcus. But Mai held her and there was no confusion anywhere inside that. Ace had not disappeared. She never did. Mai kissed her forehead. Then looked toward the bed. “You still haven't finished packing.” Amber groaned. “Fuck.” Mai laughed. “Very professional.” “I am not going professionally.” “No.” Amber pulled away. She looked at the bag. Then at the wardrobe. Then at herself in the mirror. The anticipation hit differently now. Before, Marcus had been waiting for her. Now Amber was going to him. She smiled. Her agent chimed. Both women looked. Marcus. Amber opened it immediately. **Marcus:** One practical question. **Amber:** That sounds ominous. **Marcus:** How long are you staying? Amber checked the booking. She had planned enough to get there. Not much beyond that. She smiled. **Amber:** Haven't decided. Pause. **Marcus:** That's not like you. Amber considered the answer. Then typed exactly what felt true. **Amber:** I'm trying something new. **Marcus:** Spontaneity? **Amber:** Being able to decide later. A longer pause. Then: **Marcus:** I like this version of financial security. Amber froze. Mai saw the message. Then looked at her. Amber slowly turned. “He knows.” Mai laughed. “You're not subtle.” “I never told him.” “You asked if he was at the Palace and booked a flight the same morning.” “That proves nothing.” Marcus sent another message. **Marcus:** Also, Amber? Her thumb moved. **Amber:** Yes? The answer came quickly. **Marcus:** Bring the shoes. Amber stared. Mai leaned closer. Read it. Silence. Amber looked at her. Mai looked at Amber. Then both looked toward the shoes waiting beside the bag. Mai smiled first. “Oh, he definitely remembers you.” Amber picked up the shoes. Put them into the bag. And zipped it shut. “He'd better.” --- ## Chapter 3 — Departure Amber checked the bag. Once. Then again. Not because anything had changed. Because leaving for Crystal Palace on the same day the idea had occurred to her still felt faintly impossible. Clothes. Shoes. Basic toiletries. Agent. Travel documentation. Nothing mission-specific beyond the things she carried automatically because Night City had trained good habits through repeated attempts at murder. No tactical loadout. No briefing package. No encrypted client files. No work. Amber stood beside the bed and looked down at the bag. “That is everything.” Mai leaned against the wall. “You said that four minutes ago.” “It was also true then.” “And yet you checked again.” Amber zipped the bag. “Verification.” “Anxiety.” Amber turned. “I am not anxious.” Mai looked at her. Amber looked back. Her agent chimed. Amber immediately grabbed it. Mai's eyebrows rose. Amber pointed at her without looking away from the screen. “Not a word.” Marcus. **Marcus:** Still coming? Amber frowned. **Amber:** I booked the flight. **Marcus:** That wasn't the question. She stared at the message. Mai watched her face. Amber typed. **Amber:** Yes. A pause. **Marcus:** Good. Amber smiled. Then another message arrived. **Marcus:** Wanted to hear you say it again. Amber's lips parted slightly. “Oh, you bastard.” Mai laughed. “What?” Amber turned the screen away on instinct. “Nothing.” “That did not sound like nothing.” “Marcus is being Marcus.” “That sounds dangerous.” “He's old. He needs entertainment.” The agent chimed. **Marcus:** I heard that somehow. Amber froze. Mai looked at her. Amber looked back at the screen. Then typed: **Amber:** Psychic now? **Marcus:** No. You insult my age when you don't know what else to say. Amber stared. Mai began laughing before Amber even showed her. “He does know you.” Amber narrowed her eyes. **Amber:** Nearly sixty. **Marcus:** Yes. **Amber:** Ancient. **Marcus:** Still better stamina than you. Amber's entire expression changed. Mai saw it immediately. “There it is.” Amber did not look up. **Amber:** You keep saying that. **Marcus:** You keep coming back. Amber's thumb stopped. The room went unexpectedly quiet around her. Not because the line was especially filthy. It wasn't. That made it worse. She looked at it again. You keep coming back. True. Crystal Palace had become filled with people she liked. Experiences she wanted. Places carrying memories. But Marcus had become something specific. Something she had remembered fondly back on Earth. Something that survived distance. Amber typed more slowly this time. **Amber:** Maybe there's a reason. Marcus did not answer immediately. Amber waited. Mai did not tease her. The reply arrived. **Marcus:** Maybe there is. Then: **Marcus:** Get here safely. The tension shifted again. Warmth beneath heat. Amber smiled. **Amber:** I will. She closed the conversation. Not because she wanted to. Because if she didn't actually leave soon, the entire spontaneous trip would become an elaborate exercise in missing transportation while sexting an older man from Watson. Mai stepped closer. “Ready?” Amber looked at the bag. Then at herself. Short blonde hair. Blue eyes. Clothes selected specifically because she liked what they did to her reflection. Shoes Marcus remembered. She breathed out. “Yes.” Mai picked up the bag. Amber stared. “I can carry that.” “I know.” “Then why are you carrying it?” “Because I'm walking you out.” Amber's expression softened. “Okay.” They left the bedroom together. Shammy was in the common room. Brenda and Iris had appeared too. Amber stopped. Four women looked at her. She looked back. “No.” Brenda smiled. Amber pointed. “Whatever it is, no.” “I haven't said anything.” “That's never helped.” Iris looked at the small bag. “How long?” Amber shrugged. “Couple of days. Maybe.” Iris's eyebrows rose. “Maybe.” “Yes.” “You didn't book a return?” “Not yet.” Brenda's smile widened. Amber saw it. “Don't.” “Financial freedom looks good on you.” Amber sighed. Shammy looked at her clothes. Then the bag. Then the shoes she knew were inside it. Her silver-white hair lifted very slightly. Amber pointed at her too. “You especially.” “I said nothing.” “Your hair did.” Shammy touched it reflexively. Brenda lost the fight first. Her laugh set off Iris. Mai stood beside Amber holding the bag and looked completely unrepentant. Amber stared at all four. “I live with terrible people.” Iris recovered first. “Technically one of them is leaving.” Amber's eyes narrowed. “Temporary exile.” “Self-imposed.” “Orbital.” “Still.” Amber took the bag from Mai. Then gave it back. Mai looked at her. Amber shrugged. “You already committed.” Mai laughed. Shammy stood. Her expression softened as she came closer. “Have fun.” Amber smiled. “I will.” Shammy hugged her. No joke. No elaborate farewell. Just warmth. Amber hugged her back. When they separated, Shammy touched the blonde hair lightly. “Bring Ace back.” Amber's smile became quieter. “Always.” Brenda came next. Her hug was faster. Then she leaned back and studied Amber's face. “Marcus?” “Yes.” “The Marcus?” Amber closed her eyes. Mai answered for her. “Yes.” “Betrayal.” Brenda looked delighted. Iris shook her head. “Just go before this becomes a committee.” “Best suggestion all morning.” Amber hugged Iris last. Iris held her for an extra second. Then murmured: “Enjoy having choices.” Amber stilled. Iris let her go. That one landed. Amber looked at her. Iris knew exactly what she had said. Ace would remember it. Amber nodded once. “Yeah.” Mai opened the upper security door manually. Amber stepped through with her. The door closed behind them. The safehouse disappeared. Now the secured stairway. Concrete. Hardened walls. The familiar controlled geometry between home and street. They walked down together. No hurry. Amber carried her bag now. Mai did not try to take it again. At the bottom, the first hardened door recognized them. Locks disengaged. The street beyond waited. Noise leaked in before the door had fully opened. Night City. Amber stepped outside. Mai followed. For a moment they stood beside the ruined commercial facade that hid their home above it. People passed. Traffic moved. Nobody looked twice. Amber O'Sullivan existed comfortably in the city. That was another strange thing about the cover. It no longer felt like entering a role only when danger required it. Amber had accumulated history. Friends. Clients. A company. Her wife standing beside her. And Marcus. Mai looked toward the approaching car. “You have time.” Amber checked. “Yes.” “No running.” “I don't run for transportation.” Mai stared at her. Amber amended: “Anymore.” “Better.” The car stopped. Amber didn't get in. Not yet. Mai knew. She stepped closer. Amber put down the bag. Their arms went around each other. The kiss began gently. That was all either of them intended. Probably. Amber's fingers slipped behind Mai's neck. Mai's hand settled at her waist. The city became background noise. Amber kissed her again. Longer. Mai answered without hesitation. When they finally separated, Amber remained against her. Mai smiled down at blue eyes. “You're very excited.” Amber did not bother denying it. “Yes.” “Good.” “I keep expecting you to make fun of me.” “I have been making fun of you.” “More.” Mai laughed. Amber smiled. Then Mai's expression changed. Softer. “You want him.” “Yes.” “Then go want him properly.” Amber swallowed. That simple. Again. Mai touched her cheek. “No guilt. No pretending it means less because you love me.” Amber held her gaze. “I know.” “Good.” Amber leaned up and kissed her once more. This time when she pulled away, she picked up the bag. Mai opened the car door. Amber paused before getting in. “Mai?” “Yes?” “I love you.” Mai smiled. “I love you too.” Amber got inside. The door closed. Mai stepped back. The car pulled away. Amber turned far enough to watch her through the rear window. Mai remained there until the vehicle disappeared into traffic. Only then did Amber settle into the seat. She breathed out. Night City moved past the window. A ridiculous grin slowly returned. She was actually doing this. Her agent chimed. Of course it did. Marcus. Amber opened it. **Marcus:** Left yet? She smiled. **Amber:** In the car. **Marcus:** Good. **Amber:** You keep saying that. **Marcus:** You're coming to see me. I keep meaning it. Amber stared at the words. Her grin softened. **Amber:** You sound pleased. The reply came immediately. **Marcus:** Amber. She waited. Another message. **Marcus:** You asked if I was here and then booked an orbital flight to see me. Another. **Marcus:** I'm fucking delighted. Amber laughed aloud. The driver glanced toward the mirror. Amber ignored them. **Amber:** Better. **Marcus:** Did you bring the shoes? Amber looked at the bag beside her. **Amber:** Yes. **Marcus:** Very good. Her stomach tightened. She typed: **Amber:** You have thought about those. A pause. **Marcus:** Yes. Amber waited. Three dots. **Marcus:** I've thought about more than the shoes. Heat climbed slowly through her. She looked out at Night City. Then back at the message. **Amber:** Such as? Marcus took his time. Amber knew immediately that he was doing it deliberately. The indicator appeared. Disappeared. Returned. She glared at it. **Amber:** Old man. The answer came. **Marcus:** Impatient woman. **Amber:** Answer the question. Pause. **Marcus:** Your neck. Amber's fingers moved there automatically. She felt the place his hand always seemed to find. Another message. **Marcus:** The sound you make when I touch it correctly. Amber went very still. Memory supplied that sound for her. So did her body. She looked toward the front of the car. Then typed with considerably more care. **Amber:** You remember that? The answer arrived. **Marcus:** I remember you. Amber stopped. There it was again. That irritating ability Marcus had to step sideways out of filthy banter and hit something softer without warning. She looked at the message for several seconds. **Amber:** Good answer. **Marcus:** True answer. Amber smiled. The terminal was still some distance away. For once, she was grateful. She wasn't ready for this conversation to end. **Amber:** What else? Marcus replied: **Marcus:** Are you asking because you want to know? Then: **Marcus:** Or because you're sitting in a car trying to make the trip harder for yourself? Amber laughed quietly. **Amber:** Both. **Marcus:** Thought so. She waited. No answer. Amber frowned. **Amber:** Marcus. Nothing. **Amber:** You bastard. Still nothing. She stared at the screen. Thirty seconds. A minute. Then: **Marcus:** Your face when you realized how much you liked anal. Amber's breath caught. There it was. No euphemism. No dancing around it. Marcus. Amber's thighs pressed together almost without conscious instruction. She read the message again. And memory followed. Not the mechanics. The discovery. That moment when curiosity had stopped being curiosity. When the unfamiliar had become pleasure. When pleasure had become hunger. When Marcus had looked at her and clearly understood the answer before she had been willing to say it aloud. Amber typed. Deleted. Typed again. **Amber:** That's unfair. **Marcus:** Why? **Amber:** I'm still on Earth. **Marcus:** For now. She stared. **Amber:** And yes. Pause. **Marcus:** Yes what? Amber knew exactly what he was doing. She could refuse. She didn't want to. **Amber:** I remember that too. Marcus answered: **Marcus:** Good. Amber smiled. **Amber:** There's that word again. **Marcus:** Get used to it. **Amber:** Threat? **Marcus:** Promise. Amber closed her eyes. “Fuck.” She opened them again. The city still moved past the window. Terminal closer now. Marcus far above her. Not close enough. Not remotely close enough. She typed: **Amber:** You know why I'm coming, don't you? This time there was no delay. **Marcus:** Yes. Amber looked at the answer. Then: **Marcus:** But I want you to tell me when you get here. Her heartbeat kicked. Not over text. Not safely separated by thousands of kilometers. Face to face. Amber could already imagine that conversation. Marcus looking down at her. That amused calm. Waiting. Not making the decision for her. Making her say what she wanted. She smiled. **Amber:** Fine. **Marcus:** Fine? **Amber:** I'll tell you. A pause. **Marcus:** Looking forward to it. Amber put the agent down on her thigh. Left the conversation open. Outside, Night City gradually gave way to the approach toward the terminal. Her reflection hovered faintly in the window. Short blonde hair. Blue eyes. Amber. She looked at herself. Then at Marcus's last message. And suddenly the trip became something more than a spontaneous indulgence. She had spent months carrying the memory of what she had discovered with him. Now she had money enough to remove distance as an excuse. Time enough to explore it. Freedom enough to choose it simply because she wanted to. And a man waiting at Crystal Palace who remembered exactly how she had looked when curiosity became hunger. Amber picked up her agent. One last message. **Amber:** Marcus? **Marcus:** Yes? She smiled. **Amber:** I'm really fucking glad you're there. The answer came before she could put the agent away. **Marcus:** So am I, Amber. --- ## Chapter 4 — Up The car slowed into the terminal approach. Amber noticed because the city outside changed first. Less Night City. More infrastructure. Traffic becoming organized rather than merely aggressive. Security architecture appearing in layers. The kind of place built around the assumption that anyone entering orbit had already become worth tracking. Amber looked at the time. Early. Not absurdly early. Mai would still be pleased. She decided never to mention this. Her agent remained open on her thigh. Marcus's last message sat there. **So am I, Amber.** She read it once more before closing the conversation. Not because she wanted to stop talking to him. Because she had reached the terminal. That required at least some portion of her brain. The car stopped. Amber collected her bag, stepped out, and looked up. The terminal always seemed larger when she arrived alone. Not physically. Socially. Previous Palace trips had come with people. Voices. Bags. Arguments. Somebody inevitably forgetting something and somebody else having anticipated that exact failure three days earlier. This time there was only Amber. One bag. One destination. One man waiting above the atmosphere. She smiled. Then walked inside. --- Amber O'Sullivan passed through the first identity layer without friction. Of course she did. Her cover was not a forged passport somebody had assembled in a basement. Amber existed. She co-owned a company. She paid taxes, selectively and with professional assistance. She had travel history. Corporate history. Financial history. A marriage. Contracts. Residences. A perfectly legitimate reason to travel wherever Amber O'Sullivan could afford to travel. The irony that Ace herself would have generated far more interesting questions was not lost on her. Amber stepped through the next checkpoint. Recognition. Confirmation. Green. Another. Green. Her bag moved separately through screening. Nothing objected. Amber collected it. The entire process was almost disappointing. She had become too accustomed to life making simple things difficult. Her agent chimed. She smiled before looking. Marcus. **Marcus:** Terminal? Amber typed while walking. **Amber:** Inside. **Marcus:** Any trouble? **Amber:** None. She thought about that. Added: **Amber:** Suspicious, honestly. Marcus replied: **Marcus:** Try not to start any. Amber stopped walking. **Amber:** Excuse me? **Marcus:** I would like you to reach orbit. **Amber:** I am extremely well behaved. The answer appeared immediately. **Marcus:** I've met you. Amber stared. Then laughed. A passing traveler looked at her. Amber ignored them. **Amber:** Slander. **Marcus:** Witness testimony. **Amber:** From whom? Pause. **Marcus:** Me. Amber smiled. **Amber:** Biased witness. **Marcus:** Extremely. That stopped her for half a step. She recovered. Kept walking. The gate was farther ahead. Amber knew perfectly well Marcus could flirt. She also knew the difference between flirting and the tiny moments when he simply stated something. That had been one. Biased. Extremely. Amber liked it. Far too much. --- The departure board confirmed what her agent already knew. On time. Amber stared at it. “No.” The board remained unreasonable. She had hoped for a delay. Not a serious one. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Something that would allow her to complain while secretly enjoying extra time to sit and think about Marcus. Instead the transport system had chosen today to develop professional competence. Amber found the lounge. Sat beside the window. Placed the bag at her feet. Crossed her legs. Uncrossed them. Checked the time. Sixteen minutes until boarding. She opened Marcus again. **Amber:** This is taking too long. The response took perhaps five seconds. **Marcus:** You're still at the terminal. **Amber:** Exactly. **Marcus:** Amber. **Amber:** What? **Marcus:** You booked the flight this morning. **Amber:** And? **Marcus:** Some of us have been waiting longer. She stared. Read it again. The warm pull in her chest returned. **Amber:** How much longer? The three dots appeared. Stopped. Returned. Amber leaned back. Marcus answered. **Marcus:** Since you left last time. Her breathing changed. Just slightly. Enough that she noticed. That answer had not been what she expected. Amber looked through the terminal glass. Vehicles. Ground crews. Lights. All suddenly less interesting. She typed. **Amber:** That's a long time. **Marcus:** Yes. **Amber:** You could have messaged me. A pause. **Marcus:** I did. Amber frowned. Then remembered. Of course he had. Not constantly. Marcus had never been a constant-message person. But enough. Coffee invitations when he knew she was coming. Occasional conversation. A line appearing at some absurd hour because something had reminded him of her. The kind of contact that never demanded continuation but kept the thread alive. Amber smiled. **Amber:** Fair. Then: **Marcus:** You could have visited. Amber looked at that one. Months ago the answer would have been practical. Travel. Cost. Timing. Everybody else's schedules. Reasons. Today she looked at the departure board. **Amber:** I know that now. Marcus took a moment. **Marcus:** I gathered. **Amber:** Smartass. **Marcus:** You like me. Amber smiled. **Amber:** Unfortunately. **Marcus:** That explains the orbital flight. **Amber:** Could be coincidence. **Marcus:** You asked whether I was here before checking flights. Amber froze. Then laughed quietly. Caught. **Amber:** Stop applying logic. **Marcus:** No. **Amber:** Old men are supposed to be easier to confuse. **Marcus:** Keep trying. Amber leaned back into the seat. The boarding countdown dropped another minute. She had expected anticipation to be mostly physical. Some of it was. A lot of it. Her body had already made several unsolicited contributions to the conversation. But there was something else beneath it. She missed him. That felt almost embarrassingly simple. Not romantic crisis. Not hidden longing demanding definition. She simply liked Marcus. Liked talking to him. Liked his face. Liked his hands. Liked how little effort existed between them once they occupied the same space. Liked that he could tell her exactly what he wanted without turning certainty into pressure. Liked that when she wanted something unfamiliar, he made room around the wanting before anything happened. And yes. She liked fucking him. A lot. Amber smiled at the window. That part was certainly not complicated. Her agent chimed again. **Marcus:** Thinking? Amber narrowed her eyes. **Amber:** How the fuck do you know? **Marcus:** You went quiet. **Amber:** Maybe I got bored. **Marcus:** Did you? **Amber:** No. **Marcus:** Thought so. Amber rolled her eyes. **Amber:** I was thinking about you. A pause. **Marcus:** Good things? **Amber:** Mostly. **Marcus:** Mostly. **Amber:** You're annoying. **Marcus:** Yet here you are. She smiled. He was going to use that against her all trip. Good. She hoped he did. --- Boarding began. Amber stood immediately. Then realized she had done so immediately. She looked around. Nobody cared. Good. She collected her bag and joined the line. Her agent remained in her hand. **Amber:** Boarding. **Marcus:** Good. Amber stopped typing. Then continued. **Amber:** If you say “good” one more time I'm turning around. Marcus replied: **Marcus:** No you aren't. Amber stared at the screen. **Amber:** Arrogant. **Marcus:** Accurate. **Amber:** You seem very confident for a man several thousand kilometers away. The answer took longer. **Marcus:** Distance is solving itself. Amber read it while the line advanced. That one stayed with her. Distance is solving itself. Yes. That was exactly what was happening. For once she had encountered a problem money could solve cleanly. No moral compromise. No blood. No contract. No negotiation. There was distance between Amber and something she wanted. So she had bought a seat. The idea still felt almost indecently luxurious. She reached boarding control. Amber O'Sullivan. Confirmed. Green. Through. The corridor narrowed. The vehicle waited beyond. Amber could feel herself smiling again. She typed with one hand. **Amber:** On my way in. **Marcus:** Then put the agent away and don't walk into anything. Amber stopped dead. A man behind her almost walked into **her**. She moved aside. Typed: **Amber:** Fuck you. **Marcus:** Later. Amber's mouth dropped open. She stared. The man behind her passed. Amber remained standing there. Then the laugh came. Low. Helpless. “Bastard.” She put the agent away. Marcus had won that round. Fine. Temporary condition. --- Her seat was good. Of course it was. Amber had discovered another advantage of financial freedom approximately four minutes after booking. She could simply choose the seat she wanted. That had been dangerous information. Window. Space. Privacy enough that she would not spend the ascent with somebody's elbow attempting annexation. She stored the bag. Sat. Fastened herself in. Then immediately took the agent back out. Marcus had told her to put it away while walking. She was no longer walking. Rules mattered. **Amber:** Seated. **Marcus:** Proud of you. **Amber:** Go to hell. **Marcus:** Wrong direction. Amber laughed. A safety announcement began. She listened. Mostly. She had made the trip before, but familiarity was not permission to become stupid. Marcus remained silent through the instructions. Amber noticed. Of course he did. Once they finished: **Marcus:** All set? **Amber:** Yes. Then she looked at the word. Smiled. Added: **Amber:** And before you ask, yes, I listened. **Marcus:** I wasn't going to ask. **Amber:** Liar. **Marcus:** I was going to assume Maeve trained you properly. Amber stared. **Amber:** I hate you. **Marcus:** No you don't. Amber read it. The engines changed tone. A subtle vibration moved through the seat. She looked out. Ground equipment moving away. The physical world beginning to commit. Amber typed one final message. **Amber:** Taking off. Marcus answered: **Marcus:** See you soon. Amber looked at those three words. Then locked the agent. Not because conversation had ended. Because this part deserved her eyes. --- Acceleration pressed her back. The terminal moved. Faster. Then faster again. Amber felt the precise moment when motion changed category. Ground stopped holding them. The city dropped. Night City spread outward beneath the vehicle in impossible density. Roads. Towers. Districts. All the accumulated noise of millions of lives becoming silent geometry through reinforced glass. Amber watched. She always watched. No matter how many times she left Earth, there remained something fundamentally offensive about how beautiful the planet became once human beings were far enough away to stop being individually visible. Cloud layers appeared. The horizon changed. Blue deepened. Then darkened. Acceleration held her firmly in place. Amber breathed through it. Her body knew this too. Not enough for boredom. Enough for familiarity. The blue thinned. Black arrived. Earth curved. Amber stared. For a while, Marcus disappeared. Not from her thoughts. From urgency. There was the planet below her. Home. Mai somewhere down there. Shammy. Brenda. Iris. Night City reduced to invisibility. And Amber moving away from all of them for no reason except desire. She had expected that thought to contain guilt. It didn't. It contained gratitude. Mai's voice returned from the street outside the safehouse. **Then go want him properly.** Amber smiled. She intended to. --- The agent became available again. She opened it. One waiting message. Marcus. Sent several minutes earlier. **Marcus:** Up yet? Amber looked through the window before answering. **Amber:** Up. Then: **Amber:** Earth looks good from here. Marcus replied: **Marcus:** It usually does. **Amber:** You sound spoiled. **Marcus:** I live here. Amber smiled. **Amber:** Show-off. **Marcus:** Says the woman taking a spontaneous orbital trip for sex. Amber covered her face briefly. The woman across the aisle glanced toward her. Amber lowered her hand. Typed. **Amber:** You know, I could still claim this is a cultural visit. **Marcus:** To my bedroom? Amber bit her lip. **Amber:** Palace culture is very broad. **Marcus:** Apparently. She looked outside again. Earth slowly changing beneath them. Then Marcus sent: **Marcus:** One question. Amber's attention returned immediately. **Amber:** Ask. Pause. **Marcus:** When you get here, do you want coffee first? Amber smiled. That was Marcus too. Not assuming the day began in bed simply because both of them knew perfectly well where it was going. A choice. A breath. Time. She considered. Coffee with Marcus sounded good. Talking sounded good. Seeing his face across a table sounded good. Allowing anticipation to become almost unbearable sounded even better. **Amber:** Yes. Then: **Amber:** Actual coffee. **Marcus:** I know what coffee is. **Amber:** Making sure. **Marcus:** Café near my place? She remembered it. Of course she remembered it. **Amber:** Yes. **Marcus:** Good. Amber glared. **Amber:** I warned you. **Marcus:** You're in orbit now. Too late to turn around. **Amber:** I can buy another ticket. **Marcus:** You won't. Amber smiled. **Amber:** No. Marcus answered: **Marcus:** Didn't think so. She let that sit. Then typed: **Amber:** Coffee first. **Marcus:** Coffee first. **Amber:** Then I'll tell you why I came. The response did not appear immediately. Amber watched the dots. **Marcus:** I know why you came. Her pulse jumped. She typed: **Amber:** You said you wanted me to tell you. **Marcus:** I do. Then: **Marcus:** Knowing isn't the same as hearing you say what you want. Amber stopped. There. Exactly. She looked at the message for a long moment. **Amber:** You're going to make me say it properly, aren't you? Marcus replied: **Marcus:** Yes. Her stomach tightened. **Amber:** Bastard. **Marcus:** Still coming? Amber looked out at the black. Earth already behind and below. Crystal Palace somewhere ahead. She smiled. **Amber:** Faster than before. A pause. Then: **Marcus:** Good. Amber laughed so loudly this time that the woman across the aisle laughed too, despite having absolutely no idea why. Amber shook her head. **Amber:** You're dead. **Marcus:** After coffee. She stared. Then slowly put the agent against her chest. “Fucking Marcus.” Outside the window, Earth continued falling away. Ahead, somewhere still hidden in darkness, Crystal Palace waited. And for the first time since she had booked the flight, Amber stopped wishing the journey would disappear. Anticipation had become part of it now. Marcus was waiting. Coffee first. Then he was going to look at her and make her say exactly what she had crossed the space between worlds to ask for. Amber looked through the glass. Smiled. And let the distance keep shrinking. --- ## Chapter 5 — Arrival Crystal Palace appeared slowly. Amber saw the first lights before the structure itself made sense. Points against black. Then lines. Then geometry. Then scale. She leaned toward the window. No matter how many times she came here, the first proper view still did something unpleasantly effective to her sense of proportion. The Palace was not merely large. Large was a building. Large was a carrier. Large was something the human eye could understand without needing to renegotiate its assumptions. Crystal Palace occupied space with the casual arrogance of something that had long ago stopped caring whether visitors understood how enormous it was. Amber smiled. “Hello again.” Her agent chimed. She looked down. Marcus. **Marcus:** Can you see it yet? Amber laughed softly. **Amber:** Yes. She looked back out. Then added: **Amber:** Still ridiculous. **Marcus:** You say that every time. **Amber:** Because it keeps being true. **Marcus:** Fair. Amber watched the station grow. Another message. **Marcus:** Nervous? She stared. Then typed: **Amber:** No. Pause. **Marcus:** Liar. Amber's eyebrows rose. **Amber:** Excuse me? **Marcus:** You're not scared. **Marcus:** That's different. Amber stopped. He had done it again. One small distinction. Exactly right. She looked at the Palace through the glass. Then at her own faint reflection. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Amber. Her stomach had been pleasantly tight for most of the trip. Her pulse had been misbehaving every time Marcus became too direct. Her mind had already rehearsed seeing him often enough that she had stopped trusting any version of the scene it produced. Not fear. Not doubt. Nerves. Excitement sharp enough to resemble them. She typed: **Amber:** Maybe a little. Marcus replied: **Marcus:** Good. Amber groaned. **Amber:** I fucking warned you about that word. **Marcus:** You did. **Amber:** And yet. **Marcus:** And yet. She smiled despite herself. **Amber:** Why good? This time his answer took longer. **Marcus:** Because I'm a little nervous too. Amber became completely still. She read it again. Then once more. Marcus. Nervous. That had not occurred to her. Not because she imagined him incapable of it. Because memory had preserved him as calm. Grounded. Almost offensively comfortable inside himself. The older man who could look at one of Amber's terrible ideas, consider it, ask the necessary questions, and somehow remain the least chaotic person in the room. She typed slowly. **Amber:** You? **Marcus:** Yes, me. **Amber:** Why? The three dots appeared. **Marcus:** You're flying to orbit just to see me. Amber swallowed. Another message followed. **Marcus:** I'd have to be considerably more stupid than you think I am for that not to mean something. Amber looked at the words. That warm pressure returned beneath her ribs. She did not want to turn it into something larger than it was. She also did not want to make it smaller. So she answered simply. **Amber:** It does. Marcus did not ask what. Not yet. He had already told her when he wanted that answer. Face to face. Amber appreciated that enormously. **Marcus:** Then yes. **Marcus:** A little nervous. She smiled. **Amber:** Good. There was a pause. Then: **Marcus:** You little shit. Amber laughed. Loud enough that somebody two rows ahead turned. She covered her mouth. **Amber:** Get used to it. **Marcus:** Too late. --- Docking took forever. Objectively, Amber knew this was untrue. Docking required precisely as long as docking required. Physics did not care that she wanted Marcus. Airlocks remained stubbornly resistant to sexual impatience. Amber sat through the procedure. Waited through pressure equalization. Waited through the final clearance. Waited while several people around her seemed determined to stand before they were permitted to go anywhere. She stayed seated. Mostly because Mai would somehow sense it if she became one of those people. Her agent chimed. **Marcus:** Docked? **Amber:** Yes. **Marcus:** How long? Amber looked toward the people already half-standing in the aisle. **Amber:** Somewhere between five minutes and geological time. **Marcus:** Dramatic. **Amber:** I'm trapped behind people who think standing makes doors open faster. **Marcus:** You could climb over them. Amber stared. **Amber:** I am not climbing over strangers. **Marcus:** Personal growth. **Amber:** Fuck you. Pause. **Marcus:** Still the plan. Amber's mouth fell open. She looked around automatically. Nobody had seen the message. Of course nobody had seen the message. Still. Her face felt warmer. **Amber:** Marcus. **Marcus:** What? **Amber:** Behave. **Marcus:** No. Amber bit her lip. That was going to be a problem. A very enjoyable problem. --- The doors finally opened. Movement began. Amber stood, retrieved her bag, and joined the flow. The first corridor beyond docking was familiar in the way airports became familiar despite never feeling like home. Clean. Controlled. Designed to move enormous numbers of people without reminding them how much engineering stood between ordinary travel and explosive decompression. Amber stepped onto Palace ground. Her body noticed before her mind did. A tiny change. A familiarity. A memory associated with gravity, light, smell, distance. She was here. Actually here. The thought hit differently from every message she'd sent during the journey. Crystal Palace. Marcus somewhere inside it. Amber smiled. Her agent chimed. **Marcus:** Welcome back. She stopped walking. Looked at the message. Then around her. The terminal concourse flowed past. Travelers. Staff. Families. Business groups. People arriving for reasons ranging from life-changing to boring. Nobody knew. Nobody cared. Amber typed: **Amber:** Thank you. Then: **Amber:** Where are you? His answer came immediately. **Marcus:** Café. Of course. Amber smiled. **Amber:** Already? **Marcus:** I know you. **Amber:** Meaning? **Marcus:** You will claim you need no coffee. **Marcus:** Then drink mine. **Marcus:** Then order your own. Amber stared. **Amber:** That happened once. **Marcus:** Twice. She frowned. Memory checked. Damn him. **Amber:** Irrelevant. **Marcus:** I'll order two. **Amber:** I hate you. **Marcus:** No you don't. Amber slipped the agent away. He was correct far too often. It was unhealthy. --- Palace processing recognized Amber without drama. Identity. Travel entry. Local access. All straightforward. She had expected that. Still, something amused her about seeing **AMBER O'SULLIVAN** accepted by systems thousands of kilometers from Night City with the bureaucratic indifference reserved for people who unquestionably existed. Amber had once been built to fool rooms. Now rooms expected her. She collected her final clearance. Stepped through. And Crystal Palace opened around her. There. That feeling. The terminal zone gave way gradually to something that stopped behaving like transit infrastructure and began behaving like a city. Space. Light. Architecture designed for people who could afford unnecessary beauty. Restaurants. Promenades. Private entrances disappearing into places Amber knew cost more per night than some Night City residents earned in years. People in clothes too expensive to look expensive. Staff moving with practiced invisibility. Art that probably had insurance policies larger than entire neighborhoods. Amber breathed it in. She liked Palace. Not because it was pure. It wasn't. Not because wealth made anything morally superior. It very much did not. She liked the absurdity. The excess. The permission. The way a place built for people with too much money had accidentally become somewhere Amber had discovered several things about herself she had not known before arriving. Her agent chimed. She laughed. Marcus. **Marcus:** Lost? **Amber:** Fuck off. **Marcus:** So yes. **Amber:** I know exactly where I'm going. Marcus waited approximately four seconds. **Marcus:** Wrong direction. Amber stopped. Looked up. Read the nearest navigation marker. Silence. She turned around. **Amber:** I was testing you. **Marcus:** Of course. **Amber:** Shut up. **Marcus:** Turn left after the central promenade. Amber began walking in the correct direction. **Amber:** I knew that. **Marcus:** Naturally. A grin refused to leave her face. She wondered whether he was enjoying this as much as she was. Probably. Bastard. --- The walk became increasingly familiar. Not identical. Palace changed details constantly. Displays. Installations. Retail frontage. Some places survived because the wealthy apparently needed tradition too. Others vanished and were replaced with something even more expensive before anyone had time to develop nostalgia. But the shape remained. Amber remembered walking here with others. Remembered arguments. Laughter. Business conversations that had escaped into ridiculous evenings. She passed one junction and recognized exactly where somebody had once made a decision that had seemed sensible for nearly twelve seconds. She smiled. Then kept going. Today none of that belonged to anyone else. No group waiting. No schedule wrapped around nine people. No work segment looming after breakfast. No need to coordinate. She could turn left because she wanted to. Stay because she wanted to. Leave when she wanted to. See Marcus because she wanted to. The simplicity remained intoxicating. Her agent chimed. **Marcus:** How far? Amber checked. **Amber:** Five minutes. The reply came immediately. **Marcus:** That's not very far. Her stomach tightened. **Amber:** No. **Marcus:** Still nervous? She walked more slowly. **Amber:** More now. **Marcus:** Me too. Amber smiled. **Amber:** Really? **Marcus:** Amber. **Amber:** What? **Marcus:** Five minutes. She breathed out through her nose. Fair. **Amber:** Coffee first. **Marcus:** Coffee first. **Amber:** And no cheating. Pause. **Marcus:** Define cheating. Amber narrowed her eyes. **Amber:** No trying to make me forget the coffee before we sit down. Marcus took longer this time. **Marcus:** That's a very specific rule. **Amber:** I know you. **Marcus:** You kissed me before coffee last time. Amber stopped walking. He had her. Completely. She stared at the screen. **Amber:** That was different. **Marcus:** How? Amber tried. Nothing. She resumed walking. **Amber:** It just was. **Marcus:** Excellent argument. **Amber:** Old man. **Marcus:** Tiny menace. Amber smiled. That one felt familiar too. **Amber:** Four minutes. **Marcus:** I know. Amber looked up. For one irrational second she wondered whether he could actually see her. Then she realized. **Amber:** Are you watching the corridor? No answer. Amber kept walking. Three dots. Then: **Marcus:** Maybe. She laughed. **Amber:** You bastard. **Marcus:** Keep walking. Heat moved through her. Not sexual this time. Not entirely. The knowledge of being expected. Watched for. Somebody sitting at a table and looking toward the place she would appear. Amber's pace changed without conscious permission. Not faster. Almost. She forced herself not to hurry. There was no need. He wasn't going anywhere. That thought soothed something. Marcus was waiting. --- Two minutes. Amber knew because she checked. She also knew because her body had become entirely too aware of itself. Her bag against her shoulder. The sound of her shoes. The fabric against her skin. The blue contacts. The short blonde hair. The fact that Marcus had specifically told her to bring certain shoes and she had obediently done so while pretending this was not obedience. She smiled at that. Her agent chimed. **Marcus:** I can see you. Amber stopped. The world narrowed. She looked ahead. People. Tables farther beyond. A curve in the promenade. The café frontage. Her pulse accelerated. She typed without taking her eyes off the distance. **Amber:** I can't see you. The answer came. **Marcus:** I know. **Amber:** Helpful. **Marcus:** Keep coming. Amber walked. Ten meters. Twenty. People moved aside and closed again. Then someone stood near the café. Older. Grey through his hair. Broad shoulders. No attempt to look younger than he was. No need. Marcus. Amber stopped. Completely. The station continued around her. She didn't. He saw the moment she found him. His face changed. There was the smile. That fucking smile. Better amused than posed. Always. Amber forgot the agent in her hand. Forgot the bag. Forgot every message she had considered clever during the journey. For several seconds there was only him. Four months had once disappeared when she saw him. This time it was distance. Earth. Orbit. Hours of travel. All collapsing into a handful of meters. Marcus did not move toward her immediately. Neither did Amber. They simply looked. His eyes traveled over her once. Short blonde hair. Blue eyes. Clothes. Down. Shoes. Back up. Amber saw exactly when he recognized them. His smile widened. She pointed at him from across the promenade. “Don't.” Marcus laughed. There. Real. Not text. Not memory. His laugh. Amber's chest tightened. Fuck coffee. No. Coffee first. She had made a rule. Rules mattered. She started toward him. Marcus came forward now. The distance disappeared quickly. Five meters. Three. One. Amber stopped in front of him and looked up. Considerably up. Marcus looked down at her. For a moment neither said anything. That was unusual enough to become funny. Amber smiled first. “Hi.” Marcus's expression softened. “Hi.” She had imagined this. Several times. Most versions had contained a witty line. One had involved her remaining perfectly composed. That version had clearly been written by somebody who had never met Amber O'Sullivan. Marcus opened his arms. Amber stepped into them instantly. His arms closed around her. Warm. Solid. Familiar. Her own went around him. She breathed in. There. Marcus. Actually there. His hand settled against the middle of her back. The other moved higher. Not quite her neck. Not yet. Amber held him tighter. Marcus did the same. Neither rushed to separate. That surprised her. She had expected impact. Heat. Mouths. The immediate continuation of everything they had been saying. Instead the first thing she felt was relief. She had missed this man. Marcus lowered his head slightly. “You actually came.” Amber laughed against him. “You keep sounding surprised.” “I am.” She pulled back enough to look up. “You told me to.” “No.” Marcus smiled. “I told you to come see me.” Amber blinked. “That is literally telling me to come.” “You had already booked the flight.” “Details.” His laugh rolled through him. Amber felt it through her arms. She had missed that too. Marcus looked at her again. Closer now. The amusement remained. Something else underneath it. Heat. Recognition. Nerves, perhaps. He had told the truth. Good. Amber smiled. “You're nervous.” “So are you.” “I asked first.” “No, you didn't.” “Fuck.” Marcus laughed again. Then his hand finally moved. Up. Fingers against the back of her neck. Exactly where memory had been waiting for them. Amber's breath caught. Tiny. Automatic. Marcus felt it. His eyes changed. Amber stared up at him. “Oh, fuck you.” “There it is.” “You did that on purpose.” “Yes.” “You bastard.” “Yes.” His thumb moved once. Amber closed her eyes for half a second. Months. And her body remembered immediately. When she opened them again, Marcus was watching her. Not smug. Not entirely. Mostly pleased. Amber looked at his mouth. Marcus noticed. Of course he noticed. Neither moved. Coffee first. Amber remembered. Barely. She pointed toward the café without taking her eyes off him. “Coffee.” Marcus's smile widened. “Coffee.” Amber stepped back. His hand left her neck. She immediately missed it. Annoying. Marcus reached for her bag. Amber held onto it. “I can carry this.” “I know.” They looked at each other. Amber sighed and handed it over. Marcus took it. “You still argue about everything.” “Only when I'm right.” “So everything.” “Exactly.” They started toward the café side by side. Amber took perhaps four steps. Then stopped. Marcus looked at her. “What?” Amber stepped closer. Caught the front of his shirt. Pulled. He bent instinctively. She kissed him. There was no tentative contact. No polite reunion. No uncertainty left to pay for. Marcus's free hand found her waist immediately. Amber pressed closer. The kiss lasted long enough to make the coffee rule technically questionable. Not long enough to destroy it. She broke away first. Breathing slightly harder. Marcus looked at her. Amber smiled. “That's not cheating.” His eyebrows rose. “No?” “No.” “You made the rule.” “Exactly.” Marcus considered this. “Convenient.” “Very.” His thumb moved once against her waist. Amber felt it. Everywhere. She stepped back before her excellent rule system suffered catastrophic failure. “Coffee.” Marcus nodded. “Coffee.” They resumed walking. Amber stayed close enough that their arms touched. Neither corrected it. At the café entrance, Marcus glanced down at her. “Still planning to tell me why you came?” Amber looked up. The question landed differently now. No screen. No distance. No safehouse. No Earth. Marcus right there. She smiled. “Yes.” “When?” Amber looked toward the table waiting for them. Then back at him. “After coffee.” Marcus's expression became deeply amused. “Of course.” Amber walked past him. “Patience, old man.” Behind her: “Careful, tiny.” Amber grinned. Coffee first. Then she would tell him. Properly. --- ## Chapter 6 — Coffee First Marcus had ordered two coffees. Of course he had. Amber stopped beside the table and looked at them. Then at him. “You actually did it.” Marcus set her bag beside the empty chair. “I said I would.” “You assumed my order.” “I remembered your order.” Amber looked at the cup again. That was annoyingly different. She sat. Marcus took the chair beside her rather than the one opposite. Amber noticed. She approved. Their knees touched almost immediately. Neither moved. For several seconds, neither reached for the coffee either. Amber looked at Marcus. Marcus looked at Amber. The messages had been easier. Not emotionally. Mechanically. Text gave both of them somewhere else to look. Now there was nowhere. Marcus smiled first. “So.” Amber narrowed her eyes. “So.” “You flew to Crystal Palace.” “Yes.” “Today.” “Yes.” “To see me.” Amber reached for her coffee. Marcus's smile widened. “Coffee shield.” “This is why we're here.” “Apparently.” Amber took a drink. Perfect. Damn him. She looked at the cup. Then at Marcus. “You remembered.” “I told you.” “You remember too much.” “No such thing.” “There absolutely is.” Marcus picked up his own coffee. Amber watched his hand. Older hands. Strong. Familiar. Her attention lingered long enough that Marcus noticed. He said nothing. That somehow made it worse. Amber deliberately looked back at his face. He was amused. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were about to.” “No.” “Liar.” Marcus drank his coffee. Amber glared. He remained infuriatingly comfortable. That had always been one of the problems with him. He never seemed to hurry simply because somebody else had become impatient. Especially Amber. Especially when he knew she was impatient. She leaned back. “So you're really nervous.” Marcus nodded. “Yes.” Amber had expected at least one evasive joke. None came. That made her sit a little straighter. “Still?” “Yes.” “Even now?” “Especially now.” Amber frowned. “Why?” Marcus looked at her. Properly. Not at her hair. Not the blue eyes. Not the shoes. Her. “Because you came.” Amber waited. “That part hasn't changed.” “I know.” “You could have done anything today.” “Technically.” “You could have stayed home.” “Yes.” “You could have taken that money you apparently have now and gone anywhere.” Amber smiled faintly. “Yes.” “You came here.” His eyes held hers. “For me.” Amber stopped smiling. Not because anything was wrong. Because there was nowhere to hide from the simplicity of it. “Yes.” Marcus nodded once. “That means something to me.” Amber looked down at her coffee. Warm cup between both hands. The café around them continued existing. Conversation. Glassware. Footsteps on the promenade. Nobody cared about the small blonde woman suddenly finding coffee fascinating. Marcus did not fill the silence. Amber appreciated that. Eventually she looked up. “I almost didn't realize it.” “What?” “That I could.” “Come here?” “Yes.” Marcus waited. Amber looked toward the promenade. “Palace was always a thing.” “A thing.” “An event.” Marcus smiled slightly. “That's clearer.” “You know what I mean.” “I do.” “Planning. Everybody. Flights. Rooms. Work. Reasons.” “And now?” Amber looked back at him. “Now I can just decide.” Marcus's expression softened. “Yes.” “And apparently the first thing I decided was you.” That landed. Amber saw it. Marcus looked away briefly. Not embarrassed. Affected. That pleased her enormously. “Oh.” He looked back. Amber smiled. “You liked that.” “Yes.” “No denial?” “No.” “Disappointing.” “Would you prefer dishonesty?” “Sometimes it's more entertaining.” Marcus laughed. There. Amber relaxed further. The nervousness did not disappear. It stopped being sharp. Became something warmer. Something they could sit inside rather than solve. Marcus rested one arm along the back of her chair. Not touching. Close. Amber noticed the distance between his fingers and the back of her neck. Very little. He noticed her noticing. Still did not touch. Bastard. Amber took another drink. “You're doing that on purpose.” “What?” “That.” Marcus looked at his hand. Then at her. “Oh.” “There is that fucking word again.” He smiled. Amber pointed at him. “Don't test me.” “I thought you came here for that.” Her finger stopped. Marcus took a drink. Amber slowly lowered her hand. “That was good.” “Thank you.” “Annoying.” “Also thank you.” Amber laughed. Their knees were still touching. She shifted slightly. Not away. Closer. Marcus's hand finally moved. Just enough. His fingertips brushed the back of her neck. Amber inhaled. Quietly. But not quietly enough. Marcus smiled. Amber closed her eyes. “Fuck.” “Still works.” “You knew it would.” “I hoped.” She opened her eyes. “Hoped?” “Yes.” That answer surprised her again. Marcus's fingers remained there. Light. No pressure. Just contact. Amber leaned into it without thinking. His thumb moved once. The reaction ran through her immediately. She caught his wrist. Marcus stopped. No hesitation. Amber looked at him. He looked back. “Problem?” “No.” Her hand loosened. “But if you keep doing that, coffee first is going to become coffee mostly.” Marcus laughed. His hand moved away. Amber immediately regretted her own excellent judgment. She picked up the coffee. “See?” “What?” “Responsible.” Marcus stared at her. Amber stared back. “No?” “I'm considering the evidence.” “Hostile court.” “Very.” She drank. Marcus did too. For perhaps a minute they actually behaved like two adults having coffee. It was surprisingly pleasant. Marcus asked about Night City. Not work first. Home. Amber told him enough. Safehouse chaos. The people. Little things. Nothing operational. Marcus listened. He remembered names. That mattered. When Amber mentioned Sera, he knew who she meant. When she mentioned Jessie and Ms. B, he remembered them too. He asked how Maeve was. Amber smiled. “Good.” “Just good?” “She told me to be greedy.” Marcus closed his eyes briefly. Amber laughed. “I told you.” “I was hoping you'd invented that.” “No.” “That woman is dangerous.” Amber's smile softened. “Yes.” Marcus looked at her. “No jealousy?” Amber shook her head. “None.” “Not even a little?” “No.” He waited. Amber understood the question beneath the question. “She knows why I'm here.” Marcus nodded. “She knows what we are?” Amber considered. “What are we?” Marcus looked amused. “You tell me.” “Oh, no.” “You started it.” “You asked.” “And now I'm waiting.” Amber looked at him. An old Palace friend. Fuckbuddy. Someone she trusted. Someone she had missed. Someone she had crossed the distance between Earth and orbit to see because she wanted him specifically. She smiled. “We're us.” Marcus raised an eyebrow. “That is impressively useless.” “Accurate, though.” He considered. Then nodded. “Yes.” Amber relaxed. That was enough. No definition required. No restructuring anybody's life. No hidden demand. Just recognition. Marcus touched his coffee. “So.” Amber immediately became suspicious. “What?” “You said you'd tell me.” Her stomach tightened pleasantly. There it was. The thing that had traveled with her from Night City. The thing he had refused to let her reduce to messages. Amber looked at the coffee. Half gone. Marcus followed her gaze. “You can finish it first.” She looked at him. “You're enjoying this.” “Yes.” “At least you're honest.” “I try.” Amber took another drink. Slowly. Marcus waited. She took another. He still waited. Amber stared at him over the rim. Nothing. No rescue. No prompt. No teasing. Just patience. She lowered the cup. “Fine.” Marcus shifted slightly toward her. Not much. Enough. Amber suddenly understood why he had wanted this face to face. Text could make anything clever. She didn't want clever. Neither did he. Amber put the cup down. “I came because I wanted you.” Marcus stayed quiet. Her pulse accelerated anyway. “I missed you.” His expression softened. “And I've thought about last time.” Still nothing. Amber looked away for one second. Then back. “A lot.” Marcus's mouth curved slightly. “Thought so.” “Don't ruin this.” “Sorry.” “You're not.” “No.” Amber almost laughed. Almost. Instead she continued. “I liked what we did before.” “I know.” “No.” Amber shook her head. “You know I liked it then.” Marcus became still. Amber held his gaze. “I mean afterward.” Understanding arrived. She saw it. Amber's voice softened. “I kept wanting it again.” Marcus did not interrupt. “That part surprised me.” “The anal?” “Yes.” She said it without lowering her voice. Not loudly. No shame. No performance. Just the word. “I thought it would be something I tried.” Marcus nodded slightly. “Something interesting.” “Yes.” “And instead?” Amber looked at him. “Instead I fucking crave it.” There. Her heartbeat hammered once. Marcus's expression changed. Not triumph. Not surprise exactly. Heat. Immediate and unmistakable. Amber felt her own body answer it. She continued before courage could become analysis. “I've wanted you to do it again since I left.” Marcus breathed out slowly. Amber watched him. “So that's why.” “Partly.” His eyebrows rose. “Partly.” Amber smiled. “I also like you, idiot.” Marcus laughed. The tension broke just enough to breathe. “Good.” “There is that word again.” “This time I'm keeping it.” Amber smiled. Marcus looked at her for a long moment. Then asked: “What do you want?” The question was simple. It did not feel simple. Amber knew what he meant. Not what she had wanted months ago. Not what she had enjoyed then. Now. Today. This visit. She could joke. She could dodge. Marcus would probably let her. She did neither. “First?” “Yes.” Amber considered. “I want you.” Marcus waited. Amber smiled faintly. “Vaginally.” No confusion. No euphemism. “Like we already know.” Marcus nodded. “Okay.” “And after that…” Her body reacted before the sentence finished. Marcus saw. Amber laughed quietly at herself. “Yes.” “You don't have to rush the answer.” “I know.” She looked directly at him. “After that I want what I came here craving.” Marcus held her eyes. “Anal.” “Yes.” No hesitation now. “I want you to fuck my ass again.” The words sat between them. Amber felt lighter after saying them. Marcus's hand moved from the back of the chair to the table. Palm up. An invitation. Amber put her hand into his. His fingers closed around hers. Warm. Steady. “Okay,” he said. Amber searched his face. “That easy?” “The answer?” “Yes.” Marcus shrugged slightly. “You know what you want.” “Yes.” “I want you too.” Amber's pulse jumped. “We know how to communicate.” “Yes.” “You know you can stop.” “Yes.” “You know I will stop.” “Yes.” “So yes.” Amber squeezed his hand. There it was. Exactly why she had wanted him. Not because he made desire complicated. Because he didn't. He treated it seriously without turning it into something frightening. Amber smiled. Marcus smiled back. Then added: “One condition.” Amber's eyes narrowed. “What?” “We finish the coffee.” She stared at him. Marcus picked up his cup with his free hand. Amber stared harder. “You bastard.” “You made the rule.” “I can revoke rules.” “After coffee.” Amber started laughing. Marcus did too. She reclaimed her cup. “Fine.” They drank. Their joined hands remained between them. No hurry. No reason for one. The thing Amber had crossed orbit to say had been said. Marcus knew. Amber knew he wanted her too. Everything after this would happen because both of them had chosen it with the entire day still ahead. That thought settled into Amber more deeply than impatience. She finished her coffee. Put the empty cup down. Marcus looked at it. Then at her. Amber smiled. “Coffee first.” Marcus glanced at his own cup. Still a mouthful left. Amber stared. “No.” Marcus took the final drink with outrageous calm. Set the cup down. “Coffee first.” Amber stood. Immediately. Marcus laughed. “Impatient.” Amber picked up her bag. “You have had months.” “So have you.” “Exactly.” Marcus stood. Amber looked up at him. The café suddenly felt much smaller. The whole Palace did. Marcus reached for her bag. Amber handed it over without argument this time. Progress. He took it. Then offered his other hand. Amber looked at it. Smiled. Took it. “Your place?” “My place.” Amber's fingers tightened around his. They stepped into the promenade together. This time there were no messages between them. There was no need. Marcus was right there. --- ## Chapter 7 — His Place Marcus carried Amber's bag. Amber allowed this for almost forty seconds before objecting. “I can carry that.” “I know.” “You keep saying that.” “You keep reminding me.” Amber looked at the bag in his hand. Then at Marcus. “Give it back.” “No.” Her eyebrows rose. “No?” “No.” “Very brave.” Marcus smiled. “Coffee improved my judgment.” “It clearly damaged it.” They kept walking. Amber stayed beside him. Close. Not because the promenade required it. There was plenty of space. She simply wanted to. Their arms brushed occasionally. Each time it happened, Amber noticed. Each time Marcus clearly noticed too. Neither adjusted course. The café disappeared behind them. Amber knew this route. That mattered now. On the first walk toward Marcus's apartment, familiarity had belonged entirely to him. His neighborhood. His route. His door somewhere ahead. Amber had followed. Now the turns came back before they reached them. She recognized the promenade split. The quieter residential transition. A storefront she vaguely remembered. One section of wall art she had once ignored completely because Marcus's hand had been resting against her lower back. Amber smiled at the memory. Marcus glanced down. “What?” “Nothing.” “That smile is never nothing.” “You're paranoid.” “I've met you.” “There it is again.” “What?” “Using personal experience against me.” “It saves time.” Amber shook her head. Palace moved around them. Not the Palace designed to impress people arriving for the first time. Not the grand views. Not the impossible scale. This part felt lived in. Residents moving through ordinary routines. People carrying food. Someone walking in the opposite direction with damp hair and a towel over one shoulder. A couple arguing quietly about something displayed on one of their agents. Life. Amber had always liked discovering that about the station. A city could charge absurd prices and still eventually develop someone carrying groceries home. She looked at Marcus. “You've been here the whole time?” “Mostly.” “Mostly?” “I occasionally leave my apartment.” Amber gave him a look. “Not what I meant.” “I know.” Marcus shifted the bag to his other hand. “Work. Travel. A few trips down.” “Earth?” “Yes.” “Night City?” “Once.” Amber stopped. Marcus took two more steps before realizing. He turned. She stared. “You were in Night City?” “Yes.” “When?” “Couple of months ago.” “And you didn't message me?” Marcus considered. “No.” Amber walked toward him. “That is unacceptable.” “I was there for twenty hours.” “Still.” “You were working.” Amber stopped again. “How do you know?” “You told me.” She searched memory. Found it. A short exchange. Something about being unavailable for several days. She had never connected it to him being on Earth. Amber frowned. “You could have told me you were there.” “Yes.” “Why didn't you?” Marcus looked at her. No immediate joke. That made her listen. “Because twenty hours wasn't enough.” Amber's irritation stalled. “For coffee?” “For you.” There it was again. No ceremony. No attempt to make the words prettier than they needed to be. Marcus continued. “I didn't want forty minutes between whatever else you were doing.” Amber looked at him. The Palace traffic moved around them. “You could have had forty minutes.” “I know.” “Would've been nice.” “Yes.” Amber waited. Marcus smiled faintly. “I wanted more.” The irritation disappeared. Annoying man. Amber stepped closer. “How much more?” Marcus looked down at her. “This.” Her heartbeat stumbled. Not the answer she expected. Maybe that was becoming a pattern. Amber smiled slowly. “You're getting dangerously good at this.” “At what?” “Making me forget I'm supposed to be insulting you.” “You'll recover.” “Oh, definitely.” Marcus offered his free hand. Amber looked at it. Then took it. They resumed walking. --- It should not have felt strange. Amber had held Marcus's hand before. She had done considerably more with almost every part of him. But walking beside him now, fingers linked, felt unexpectedly intimate. Maybe because nobody had negotiated it. Nobody had announced anything. His hand had appeared. Hers had accepted. Done. Amber looked down once. Marcus noticed. “Problem?” “No.” “Checking whether I'm still there?” “Maybe.” “I am.” “Good.” Marcus looked at her. Amber immediately smiled. “Yes. I know.” He laughed. She squeezed his hand. The residential corridor ahead looked increasingly familiar. Amber knew where they were now. Really knew. She could have reached his apartment without him. That realization pleased her. Then another followed. She could come here again. Not theoretically. Not next time everyone happened to be at Palace. She knew the route. She knew how to get here. She knew Marcus wanted her here. And Earth was no longer a financial wall she automatically respected. Amber's smile changed. Marcus saw it. “That one is worse.” “What one?” “The smile.” “You classify my smiles now?” “Self-defense.” Amber ignored that. “I just realized something.” Marcus sighed. “That sentence has history.” “I can come back.” Marcus stopped. Amber took one more step before their joined hands stopped her. She turned. His expression had changed. Not dramatically. But enough. “Yes.” Amber smiled. “No, I mean I can actually just come back.” “I understood.” “I don't have to wait for a reason.” “No.” “I don't have to wait for everyone else.” “No.” “And apparently I don't have to warn you very far in advance.” Marcus considered. “Some warning would be polite.” “How much?” “Enough time to buy coffee.” Amber laughed. “Deal.” They stood there for another second. Then Marcus lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. It was such an unexpectedly old-fashioned gesture that Amber stared at him. “What the fuck was that?” Marcus looked innocent. “What?” “You can't do that.” “I just did.” “You're not allowed to suddenly become charming.” “Too late.” “That was dirty.” “Hand kiss.” “Exactly.” Marcus laughed. Amber tugged him closer by their joined hands. He came willingly. She looked up. “You know what's unfair?” “What?” “You know exactly how much I want to get to your apartment.” “Yes.” “And you're enjoying making the walk take longer.” Marcus's smile answered before he did. Amber pointed at him with her free hand. “Bastard.” “You wanted no rushing.” Amber froze. She narrowed her eyes. “You're suspicious.” “Come on.” Marcus started walking again. Amber followed. “I'm watching you.” “I hope so.” “Oh, fuck off.” --- The apartment door came into view. Amber's stomach tightened. There. A door. That was all. She had passed thousands in her life. Breached several. Hidden behind others. Slept behind enough that she had stopped remembering most of them. This one carried memory. Marcus released her hand to open it. Amber stood beside him and watched. Her pulse had accelerated again. Not nerves now. Not really. Expectation. The lock cleared. The door opened. Marcus looked at her. He did not step inside first. “Amber.” She met his eyes. Something in his tone removed every joke. “Yes?” “You're here because you want to be?” Amber stared. Then her expression softened. Even now. Even after the flight. Even after the messages. Even after telling him exactly what she wanted over coffee. He still asked at the threshold. “Yes.” “No obligation because you came this far.” “I know.” “No expectation because of last time.” “I know.” Marcus waited. Amber stepped closer. “I want to be here.” His shoulders relaxed slightly. Amber noticed. “I want you.” Marcus's eyes changed. “And yes, I still want everything I told you over coffee.” “Okay.” Amber smiled. “Okay?” Marcus smiled back. “Come in.” She did. --- The apartment was familiar. Not perfectly. Memory had edited details. Made some things larger. Forgotten others completely. But the feeling was right. Amber entered and stopped just beyond the door. Marcus came in behind her and closed it. The sound changed everything. Not trapped. Private. The Palace remained outside. The apartment became quiet around them. Amber looked across the sitting area. The window. The route toward the rest of the apartment. The bedroom somewhere beyond. She knew that too. Memory responded immediately. Marcus put her bag down. Amber turned. He was watching her. “What?” “You're inventorying.” “I am not.” “You absolutely are.” “I have excellent situational awareness.” Marcus laughed. The line had clearly survived. Amber smiled. “I remembered the apartment.” “I can see that.” “Mostly.” “Anything disappointing?” Amber looked around. Then at him. “Ask me later.” Marcus's eyebrows rose. “Dangerous answer.” “Good.” There. His word. Amber smiled. Marcus shook his head. He went toward the kitchen area. “Water?” “Yes.” Amber followed. Not because she needed to. Because she didn't particularly want distance anymore. Marcus handed her a glass. She drank. More than she expected. Marcus watched. Amber lowered the glass. “What?” “Nothing.” “You're doing the face.” “What face?” “The responsible older man face.” “I only have one face.” “You absolutely do not.” Marcus drank his own water. Amber watched his throat move. That was an incredibly stupid thing to find attractive. Apparently she did anyway. She drank again. “Happy?” “Yes.” “Good.” Marcus pointed at her. Amber grinned. “Mine now.” “Thief.” She set the glass down. Marcus did too. Neither moved. There it was. The moment after practicalities. No coffee. No travel. No bag. No hydration. No distance. Amber and Marcus. Alone. His apartment. The entire day ahead. Amber felt every centimeter between them. Marcus stayed where he was. So did she. For perhaps five seconds. Then Amber laughed quietly. “What?” “This is ridiculous.” “What is?” “I flew all the way here and now we're standing three meters apart.” Marcus looked down. Then back at her. “Two and a half.” “You measured?” “Estimate.” “Still unacceptable.” Amber crossed the distance. Marcus met her halfway. Their mouths found each other without any uncertainty at all. This kiss was nothing like the one outside the café. That had been reunion. Controlled enough to protect the coffee rule. This had nowhere else to go. Amber's arms went around his neck. Marcus caught her waist and pulled her close. She rose onto her toes without thinking. Still not enough. Marcus solved the problem. His hands moved lower, then lifted. Amber laughed against his mouth as her feet left the floor. “There.” “Fuck you.” “Eventually.” She kissed him harder. Marcus carried her only far enough to put her on the edge of the sitting area's table. Amber looked down. Then at him. “Seriously?” “Height problem.” “I do not have a height problem.” “You're one forty-five.” “You remembered.” “I remember you.” The words hit exactly as hard in person as they had over messages. Amber's retaliation vanished. Her hands moved to his face. She kissed him again. Slower. Marcus's hands settled at her waist. No urgency now. That somehow made the heat worse. Amber could feel the familiar shape of him close to her. His mouth. The faint roughness along his jaw. His hands staying where she could track them. She knew this. Wanted this. Had crossed orbit for this. Marcus broke the kiss only enough to breathe. His forehead rested against hers. Amber kept her eyes closed. “Hi,” he murmured. She laughed softly. “We already did that.” “Again.” Amber opened her eyes. “Hi.” His thumb moved against her waist. “You came back.” “Yes.” “For me.” Amber smiled. “You're going to keep making me say that.” “Yes.” She looked directly at him. “Then listen carefully, old man.” Marcus waited. Amber slid one hand behind his neck. “I came to Crystal Palace because I wanted Marcus.” His expression changed. Amber continued. “Not Palace.” Her other hand touched his chest. “Not a holiday.” She drew him closer. “Not business.” Marcus's breathing deepened. Amber smiled. “You.” There. No joke. No complication. Marcus kissed her. Amber met him immediately. And this time, when his hand moved to the back of her neck, she did not complain. His fingers settled exactly where they knew to settle. Amber's breath caught. Marcus slowed. Not stopped. Waited. Amber leaned into the touch deliberately. “Yes.” His thumb moved. A familiar current went through her. Amber's fingers tightened behind his neck. “That.” Marcus watched her. “You missed that?” “Yes.” “How much?” Amber looked at him. “Enough to get on a fucking spacecraft.” Marcus laughed softly. Amber kissed him before he could say anything else. The kiss deepened. Her body moved closer. His hands stayed deliberate. Familiar without assuming. Amber liked that. She had always liked that. Time began becoming unhelpful. Minutes stopped carrying clear borders. There was kissing. Breathing. Marcus's mouth at her cheek. Her jaw. Back to her mouth. His hand returning to her neck until Amber made the same small sound she had made months before. Marcus stopped just enough to smile. Amber opened her eyes. “Don't.” “That sound.” “I know.” “You still do it.” “You still know how.” “Yes.” Amber stared at him. “Bedroom.” Marcus's expression changed. Heat sharpened. But he didn't move immediately. “Sure?” “Yes.” “First round the way you said?” Amber nodded. “Yes.” “And then we take our time.” “Yes.” Marcus kissed her once. Short. Warm. “Okay.” Amber slid off the table. Her feet touched the floor. She took his hand. Started toward the bedroom. Made three steps. Then stopped. Marcus looked at her. Amber turned. One last thought. Not hesitation. Important. “I meant what I said.” “Which part?” “All of it.” Marcus waited. Amber smiled. Marcus's eyebrow rose. Amber shook her head. “I don't want to rush.” His expression softened. “We won't.” She squeezed his hand. “Good.” Marcus smiled. Amber immediately narrowed her eyes. “Don't start.” He laughed. Then they continued toward the bedroom. Slowly. There was no reason to hurry. Amber had crossed the distance. Marcus was here. And for the first time all day, neither of them had anywhere else they needed to be. --- ## Chapter 8 — Familiar First Amber remembered the bedroom. Not perfectly. Memory had preserved the important things and quietly discarded the rest. The window. The light. The distance from the doorway to the bed. Marcus. The bed itself was still the newer one. Amber stopped just inside the room and looked at it. Then at him. “You kept it.” Marcus glanced toward the bed. “I wasn't planning to return it.” “You never know.” “You approved last time.” “I did.” Marcus smiled. “Extensively.” Amber pointed at him. “Careful.” “Why?” “You're dangerously close to sounding smug.” “I'm nearly sixty. I've earned some smugness.” “No.” “No?” “Absolutely not.” He laughed. Amber did too. The laughter helped. Not because she was nervous anymore. Because the room carried memory. Strong memory. Pleasure had happened here. Discovery had happened here. She had left this room knowing something about herself she had not known when she entered it. Now she stood inside it again because she had wanted to come back. Marcus put her bag near the wall. He straightened. Amber watched him. No café now. No promenade. No messages. No travel. The door remained behind them. The bed waited several steps away. Marcus did not close those steps. Amber did. She crossed the room until only a small distance remained between them. Marcus looked down at her. Amber tilted her head. “What?” “Nothing.” “You have a face.” “I've been told.” “That face is doing something.” Marcus smiled. “What is it doing?” “Waiting.” “Yes.” Amber's expression softened. “For me?” “Yes.” That mattered. She reached for him. Not dramatically. Both hands against his chest. Marcus's hands settled at her waist only after hers were already there. Amber looked down at them. Then back up. “Yes.” His fingers tightened slightly. Amber stepped closer. Their first kiss in the bedroom was slow. No impact. No urgency. Just contact allowed to become familiar again. Amber's eyes closed. Marcus's mouth moved against hers. Warm. Known. Different from memory because memory could not breathe against her. She slipped her hands higher. Over his shoulders. Around his neck. Marcus drew her closer. Amber rose slightly onto the fronts of the shoes he had specifically told her to bring. That thought made her smile against him. Marcus felt it. “What?” She kissed him again before answering. “You remembered the shoes.” “I did.” “Why?” Marcus looked down. Amber followed his gaze. The shoes. Then slowly back up. “You know why.” Amber's smile widened. “I want to hear you say it.” “They look good on you.” “That's all?” “No.” Marcus's hand moved along her side. Stopped at her waist. “They change how you stand.” Amber became very still. “How?” “You know.” “No.” “You do.” “Marcus.” He smiled. “They make you look like you know exactly what you're doing.” Amber laughed softly. “I usually do.” “Usually.” She narrowed her eyes. “Old man.” “Tiny woman.” Amber kissed him harder. That ended the argument. For now. Marcus's fingers moved upward along her back. Not beneath anything yet. Over the short jacket. Tracing the shape of her through it. Amber leaned into the contact. His hand reached the back of her neck. There. Her breath caught immediately. Marcus stopped. Amber opened her eyes. He was watching her. Not amused now. Attentive. “You okay?” “Yes.” His thumb moved once. Amber's eyes half closed. “That still works.” “Yes.” “Good.” She groaned quietly. “Don't ruin it.” Marcus smiled. Amber pulled him down into another kiss. His hand remained at her neck. The other stayed at her waist. Nothing rushed. Amber liked the restraint more than she expected. She had spent hours moving toward this room. Her body knew exactly what she wanted. That did not mean she wanted to skip anything. She let the kiss deepen gradually. Her fingers worked into the grey at the back of Marcus's hair. His mouth left hers. Found her cheek. Her jaw. The side of her neck. Amber breathed in sharply. Marcus paused. She tilted her head to give him more room. “Yes.” He continued. Amber's fingers tightened. The jacket suddenly felt unnecessary. She stepped back just enough to reach it. Marcus's hands fell away immediately. Amber shrugged one shoulder free. Then the other. Marcus took the jacket when she handed it to him. He placed it over the back of a chair. Amber stared. “What?” “You folded it.” “No.” “You almost folded it.” “I put it on a chair.” “Very responsibly.” “I can throw it on the floor.” Amber smiled. “Later.” Marcus turned back toward her. Amber caught the front of his shirt before he reached her. “My turn.” She began opening it. One fastening. Then the next. Marcus looked down at her hands. Amber noticed. “Don't.” “Don't what?” “Make the concentrating joke.” “I wasn't going to.” “You were.” “Maybe.” Another fastening opened. Then another. Amber took her time. Not because the shirt was difficult. Because every little step prolonged the anticipation. When she reached the last one, she pushed the fabric apart. Her palms moved over his chest. Warm skin. Familiar contours. Age not hidden. Not corrected. Not something Marcus apologized for. Amber liked that about him. She pushed the shirt back from his shoulders. Marcus pulled one arm free. Then the other. Amber took the shirt. Looked toward the chair. Then deliberately dropped it onto the floor. Marcus stared. Amber smiled. “Balance.” He laughed. She stepped close again. No fabric between her hands and his chest now. She explored slowly. Not discovering. Remembering. Her fingertips traced one line she knew. Marcus's breathing changed. Amber looked up. “There.” “What?” “You.” “I've been here the whole time.” “You know what I mean.” “Yes.” Marcus touched the hem of her fitted top. Stopped. Amber looked down at his hand. Then at him. “Yes.” He lifted it slowly. Amber raised both arms. The fabric moved over her torso. Caught briefly at one wrist. Amber laughed. Marcus stopped. “Hold on.” “I am.” “You're laughing.” “You're losing a fight with a shirt.” “I was doing fine until you started moving.” “I moved one arm.” “Exactly.” Amber freed her wrist herself. The top came away. Marcus held it. Amber pointed toward the floor. He looked at the chair. Then at her. Amber waited. Marcus dropped the top beside his shirt. “Learning.” “Fast.” His eyes returned to her. Amber felt the change immediately. Not because Marcus had never seen her. Because he had. That made the way he looked at her more intimate, not less. Recognition. Appreciation. Memory catching up with reality. Amber stood still and let him look. She did not cover herself. Did not joke. Not yet. Marcus reached out. His fingertips touched her shoulder. Then moved slowly downward. Amber followed the path with her eyes. His hand came to rest at her side. She leaned into it. “Hi,” Marcus said quietly. Amber looked up. “We've done that one.” “I know.” “Running out of lines?” “No.” “Good.” He smiled. She groaned. Then pulled him down and kissed him. The kiss changed faster this time. Amber pressed closer. Bare skin against bare skin. Heat arriving immediately. Marcus's arms closed around her. Amber's hands spread across his back. She could feel the strength there. The difference between remembering his body and actually having it beneath her hands again. Her breath shortened. Marcus noticed. Of course he did. He slowed. Amber shook her head against his mouth. “Don't.” “Don't slow down?” “Not that much.” Marcus adjusted. Just enough. Amber smiled into the next kiss. “Yes.” His hands moved lower. Stopped at the waistband of her shorts. Amber opened her eyes. Marcus waited. She looked at him for a second. Then deliberately placed her own hands over his. Guided them to the fastening. “Those next.” Marcus smiled. “Yes?” “Yes.” He opened them. Slowly. Amber stood close enough to feel his breath. The shorts loosened. Marcus did not immediately push them down. He looked at her. Amber nodded once. His hands moved to her hips. The fabric followed. Down a little. Pause. Amber shifted her weight. One side. Then the other. The shorts moved lower. Over her thighs. Amber steadied herself with both hands on Marcus's shoulders. When the fabric reached her knees, she stepped out of one leg. Then the other. Marcus picked them up. Amber looked toward the floor. Marcus dropped them. “Excellent.” “You're a terrible influence.” “Maeve says worse.” Marcus looked at her. “Maeve encourages you.” “Frequently.” “I remember.” Amber smiled. Good. Maeve. The name he knew. The life he knew. Marcus's hand returned to her waist. Amber's moved to his belt. He looked down. She looked up. “What?” “Nothing.” “You're doing the face again.” “Waiting.” “Stop waiting.” Marcus raised his eyebrows. Amber smiled. “Unless I tell you to.” “Fair.” She opened his belt. Slow. Then the next fastening. Marcus did not help. Amber noticed. “You're enjoying this.” “Yes.” “Making me do all the work.” “You said it was your turn.” “Smartass.” “Experienced.” Amber laughed. She finished. Her hands paused at his waist. The humor softened. She looked at him. Marcus touched her cheek. “You good?” Amber nodded. “Very.” His thumb moved once along her cheekbone. Amber turned her face enough to kiss his palm. Then continued. No hurry. No awkwardness. She helped him out of the remaining layers one piece at a time. Each removal interrupted by touch. A kiss. Marcus's hands at her sides. Amber stopping because exposed skin demanded attention before anything else happened. When she finally stepped back, there were only her shoes and the last pieces of clothing still between them. Marcus noticed the shoes. Amber saw him notice. She smiled. “These stay for now.” “I wasn't going to argue.” “You're learning.” Amber removed the next piece herself. Slowly. Not teasing Marcus exactly. Mostly enjoying the fact that she had time to do this without anybody waiting on the other side of a schedule. Marcus watched. Amber felt the warmth of his attention across her skin. She finished. Set the fabric aside. Not dropped this time. Marcus's mouth curved. “Responsible.” “Shut up.” One last piece remained. Amber hooked her fingers into it, caught Marcus watching, and smiled before easing it down over her hips. She stepped free one foot at a time and set it with the rest. When she straightened, she stood in front of Marcus in nothing but the shoes he remembered. Marcus looked at her. Long enough that Amber felt heat climb beneath her skin. She placed one hand on her hip. “Well?” Marcus exhaled. “Those shoes were a good decision.” Amber laughed. “Just the shoes?” “No.” “Better.” He came closer. Amber let him. His hands settled on her hips. Skin now. No fabric. Amber's breath changed. Marcus leaned down. Their foreheads touched. For a few seconds, nothing else happened. Amber liked that. She had expected nakedness to accelerate everything. Instead it made stillness more intense. Her palms moved over his chest. Marcus's thumb traced a small circle at her hip. Amber closed her eyes. “This is what I missed.” Marcus's voice was quiet. “All of it?” “Yes.” She opened her eyes. “Not only the thing I came craving.” “I know.” Amber smiled faintly. “I wanted this first for a reason.” Marcus kissed her. Soft. Long. Amber stepped closer until there was no meaningful distance left. His arms closed around her. Her head fit beneath his chin when she stopped trying to reach him. She laughed quietly. “What?” “You're annoyingly tall.” “You're annoyingly short.” “One forty-five is efficient.” “Of course.” Amber looked toward the bed. Then back at him. Marcus followed her gaze. “Ready?” Amber nodded. “Yes.” They moved together. Amber sat on the edge first. Marcus remained standing for a second. She looked up at him. Held out both hands. He took them. Amber pulled gently. Marcus came closer. She leaned forward and kissed his stomach. Then looked up again. His expression had changed. Good. Amber smiled. “Hi.” Marcus laughed softly. “There it is again.” She shifted farther onto the bed. Still wearing the shoes. Marcus noticed. Amber followed his gaze. “Later.” He climbed onto the bed beside her. The mattress moved. Amber turned toward him immediately. Their next kiss was slower than she expected. Maybe because there was nothing left to remove. Nothing left to organize. Only touch. Marcus's hand moved along her leg. Amber followed the movement. His palm settled just above her knee. She moved closer. He understood. His hand traveled higher. Amber's breathing deepened. She touched his face. Grey at the temples. Lines around his eyes. A face she had remembered accurately enough to miss. Marcus kissed the inside of her wrist. Amber smiled. “That again.” “What?” “Unexpected charm.” “I warned you.” “No, you didn't.” “Too late now.” Amber kissed him. Marcus rolled slightly toward her. Amber let herself settle beneath him. Not pinned. Held close. His weight supported mostly away from her. Enough contact to feel him. Not enough to take choice away. Amber wrapped one leg around him. Marcus looked down. “Still familiar first?” “Yes.” “Still exactly what you want?” “Yes.” Amber touched his cheek. “And Marcus?” “Yes?” “I'm not fragile.” “I know.” “But I like that you ask.” His expression softened. “Okay.” Amber smiled. “There. You can say that one.” Marcus kissed her. Amber shifted one knee and drew him between her legs. Marcus followed, bracing himself above her while they tried to bring their bodies together. The angle was wrong almost immediately. Amber laughed. Marcus laughed too. “Very romantic.” “Shut up.” “Your leg.” “I know where my leg is.” “It suggests otherwise.” Amber shifted again, opening the angle and using one hand at Marcus's hip to guide him closer. “There.” “Yes.” “See?” “Excellent work.” “Old man.” “Tiny woman.” Amber pulled him down. Marcus settled between her legs and stopped at the first intimate contact, close enough that her laughter faded on its own. She held his gaze for a beat and tightened the leg around him. “Still?” “Yes.” Marcus entered her slowly. Amber's breath caught at the first clear joining. Not surprise. Recognition. The familiar pleasure arrived before either of them moved again, warm enough to make her eyes close and her fingers tighten at his shoulder. “Fuck.” Marcus stopped immediately. Amber drew him a little closer and held him there while she breathed. Once. Again. The familiarity settled through her gradually, her body recognizing him more clearly than memory ever could. Marcus stayed where he was. “Amber?” “Yes.” “Okay?” She opened her eyes. “Very.” His forehead rested against hers. Amber smiled. “Move.” Marcus did. Slowly at first. Amber felt every change. The room narrowed. Her hands found his shoulders. The first few movements were almost cautious. Amber answered each one. Not verbally. Her body moving with his. Her leg tightening around him. Her hips finding the rhythm. Marcus watched her. Amber noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Liar.” “You.” “That is not an answer.” “It is.” Amber would have argued. The next movement stole the thought. Her breath caught. Marcus paused just enough to see her reaction. Amber's fingers tightened. “Again.” He repeated it. Amber closed her eyes. “Yes.” There. Familiar. Not stale. Not automatic. A known path rediscovered one step at a time. Marcus settled into the rhythm Amber responded to. She moved with him. Sometimes matching. Sometimes leading. Sometimes simply letting the sensation come. Their kisses became less orderly. One ending against her cheek. Another beginning before either had properly breathed. Amber laughed once when their noses collided. Marcus laughed too. Then her laughter broke into a quiet sound when his hand reached the back of her neck again. Her entire body answered. “Oh, fuck.” Marcus smiled. Amber opened her eyes. “Do not look pleased.” “I am pleased.” “Insufferable.” His thumb moved. Amber's eyes closed again. “Again.” Marcus obeyed. The rhythm continued. Amber could feel pleasure accumulating now. Not rushing toward a single point. Layering. Warmth under her skin. Pressure deepening. Every familiar touch making the next one easier to receive. She stopped thinking about what came later. That surprised her. She had crossed orbit with a very specific appetite. It had not vanished. It simply no longer needed her attention. Not yet. Right now there was Marcus. This. The first thing she had asked for. Her breathing became less even. Marcus noticed before she did. He slowed slightly. Amber shook her head. “No.” “Same pace?” “Yes.” He returned to it. Amber's body relaxed around the rhythm. Pleasure climbed again. Her fingers moved across Marcus's back. She wanted him closer. Pulled. Marcus came. Their bodies pressed together more fully. Amber turned her face into his neck. Inhaled. His scent. Skin. The faint trace of whatever he had used that morning. Marcus's mouth touched her shoulder. Amber shivered. “That's unfair.” “What?” “That.” He did it again. Amber laughed breathlessly. “Bastard.” His hand moved from her neck to her side. Amber immediately caught it. “Back.” Marcus looked at her. She guided his hand upward. Placed it where she wanted. “Here.” His fingers settled. Amber exhaled. “Yes.” The pleasure sharpened. Her body began holding tension differently. Marcus kept the rhythm steady. Amber's leg tightened around him. Her other foot pressed into the mattress, shoe still on. That made her laugh for one absurd second. Marcus looked down. “What?” “The shoes.” “What about them?” “I forgot.” Marcus smiled. “Keep them.” Amber's laugh turned into a gasp. The next wave hit harder. Her hands closed around him. “Marcus.” “I've got you.” The words landed. Amber's eyes opened. His face was close. Focused. Not chasing his own pleasure past hers. Not performing control. Simply there. Amber kissed him. Hard. Her breathing broke apart. The pleasure continued building. She knew where it was going now. Could feel the line clearly. Marcus seemed to know too. He did not change anything. Good. Exactly right. Amber's body tightened. She stopped moving with him for several seconds because she simply could not coordinate everything anymore. Marcus carried the rhythm. Steady. Amber held on. “Stay there.” “Yes.” “Don't change it.” “I won't.” Her voice vanished into breath. The room disappeared at the edges. Amber felt the first crest arrive and almost break. Not yet. It receded just enough to make her groan. Marcus kissed her temple. “Easy.” “Don't you fucking dare tell me easy.” He laughed quietly. Amber would have insulted him properly. Then the pleasure rose again. Higher. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Marcus's hand stayed at her neck. That familiar point of contact became the last small piece. Amber broke. The orgasm rolled through her slowly at first. Then all at once. Her back tightened. Her breath stopped. A sound escaped against Marcus's shoulder. She clung to him. The peak held. Long enough to become almost overwhelming. Marcus slowed without stopping. Amber felt another smaller wave move through her before the first had entirely released her. Her whole body trembled. Then softened. She breathed. Once. Failed to make it useful. Tried again. Marcus became still. Amber immediately tightened her arms around him. “Stay.” “I am.” No movement. No next step. No question about what came afterward. Marcus remained close. Amber's face rested against his neck. Her pulse gradually became less ridiculous. She could still feel him. Still connected. Still warm. The orgasm faded into a deep, heavy satisfaction. Amber opened her eyes. Marcus was looking at her. She smiled weakly. “What?” “Nothing.” “You keep saying that.” “Still true.” Amber touched his face. “You're very annoying after orgasm.” “You're very talkative after orgasm.” “I've recovered.” “So I see.” She laughed. That made her body react enough that she stopped. “Oh.” Marcus immediately became attentive. “Too much?” “No.” Amber breathed through the sensitivity. “Just noticeable.” “Want me to move?” She considered. Then shook her head. “Not yet.” Marcus nodded. They stayed. Amber's thumb moved slowly along his cheek. She looked at him. Really looked. Not wanting anything for a few moments. That was rare enough to notice. She felt satisfied. Safe. Warm. Marcus's hand moved gently along her side. No attempt to start another climb. Just touch. Amber leaned up and kissed him. Soft. “Thank you.” Marcus's expression changed. “For what?” “This.” “All of it?” “Yes.” He kissed her forehead. Amber smiled. Then, after a long quiet stretch, she became aware of something else. Marcus. Still holding himself in check. Amber opened her eyes. “You haven't finished.” “I know.” “That doesn't bother you?” “No.” “It bothers me.” Marcus laughed softly. “Of course it does.” Amber touched his mouth with one finger. “Don't make fun of me.” “I'm not.” She studied him. “You want to?” “Yes.” “Then why are we discussing it?” “Because you just came.” Amber smiled. “Very observant.” “And you're sensitive.” “Yes.” “And I can wait.” Amber's hand moved behind his neck. “I know.” She kissed him. Longer this time. When she pulled back, her breathing had changed again. Not another climb. Not yet. Choice. “I don't want you to wait forever.” Marcus's eyes held hers. “Sure?” “Yes.” Amber shifted carefully. Tested how her body answered. The sensitivity remained. Bright. But not unpleasant. She moved again. Marcus watched her face. Amber nodded. “That's okay.” The rhythm began again. Much slower. Amber felt everything. Maybe too much. She laughed once, breathlessly. Marcus immediately slowed further. “No, keep going.” “You sure?” “Yes.” Her arms wrapped around him. “This one is yours.” Marcus's expression sharpened. Amber smiled. “That's not an order.” “Good.” “It is encouragement.” “That sounds suspiciously like an order.” “Marcus.” He laughed. Amber kissed him. The rhythm strengthened gradually. Her body responded despite itself. Pleasure stirred again beneath the sensitivity, but Amber did not chase it. She watched Marcus instead. The changes in his face. The moment his careful control required effort. The way his breathing deepened. Amber liked seeing that. Liked knowing she could do this to him. Her hands moved over his back. She pulled him closer. “Don't hold back because you're watching me.” “I am watching you.” “I know.” “That's not negotiable.” Amber smiled. “Fine.” She moved with him. “Watch.” Marcus's breath caught. Good. Amber kissed his jaw. Then his mouth. His rhythm became less measured. Not uncontrolled. Less carefully edited. Amber welcomed it. Her body absorbed the change. Her breath hitched occasionally. Marcus checked her each time. Amber answered with touch. With movement. With quiet yeses. Enough. Eventually she felt the moment approaching for him. His body tightened. His breathing changed. Amber knew. She held him close. Marcus slowed instinctively. Amber shook her head. “No.” His eyes opened. Amber looked directly at him. “Stay with me.” He did. The last of his control broke gently rather than violently. Marcus's face turned into her neck. Amber wrapped both arms around him. Held him through the climax. Felt his body tense. Then slowly release. His breath came warm against her skin. Amber kissed his temple. Once. Then again. Neither moved. Marcus remained above her for several seconds. Then longer. Amber's hand traveled lazily across his back. The room became quiet. Not empty. Full. Marcus eventually lifted his head. Amber smiled. “Hi.” He laughed. “You've used that one.” “I like it.” “I noticed.” She kissed him. No heat required. Just lips against lips. Marcus shifted carefully. Amber let him separate this time. The change left her suddenly aware of the cool air against warm skin. She made a dissatisfied noise. Marcus looked at her. “What?” “Cold.” He reached for the blanket. Amber caught his wrist. “No.” Marcus raised an eyebrow. Amber pulled him back down beside her. “You first.” He laughed. “Right.” Amber turned onto her side. Marcus settled beside her. She moved against him immediately. One leg over his. Head against his chest. His arm came around her. Only then did Amber reach for the blanket. Together they pulled it over themselves. Better. The shoes were still on. Amber realized that a minute later. She looked down beneath the blanket. Then started laughing. Marcus looked at her. “What?” “I am naked in your bed wearing shoes.” Marcus glanced down. “Yes.” “That is ridiculous.” “You insisted.” “I forgot.” “I didn't.” Amber looked at him. “Of course you didn't.” She started to move. Marcus touched her leg. “I've got it.” Amber watched as he reached down. One shoe first. His hand supported her ankle. The fastening came loose. He eased the shoe away rather than pulling. Set it beside the bed. Then the other. Amber flexed her toes. “Better.” Marcus settled back. Amber immediately reclaimed her place against him. “There.” His arm closed around her again. They lay quietly. Minutes passed. Amber did not check how many. Marcus's fingers moved slowly through her short blonde hair. Not fixing anything. Just touching. Amber closed her eyes. She could hear his heartbeat beneath her ear. Slower now. Steady. The first round was over. Nothing else needed to happen yet. Her body remained pleasantly heavy. Her mind quiet. The appetite she had brought with her was still there somewhere. She knew it. Marcus probably knew it too. Neither of them mentioned it. Not now. Amber traced an idle line across his chest. Marcus's hand moved down her back. “You hungry?” Amber considered. “For food?” Marcus laughed. “Yes.” “Maybe later.” “Water?” “Yes.” “Now?” Amber tightened her arm around him. “No.” Marcus smiled. Amber could feel it without looking. “Five minutes.” “You said that very confidently.” “Ten.” “Better.” Amber opened one eye. “You're supposed to negotiate downward.” “I know you.” She closed it again. “Smart man.” They stayed exactly where they were. No countdown. No urgency. Amber had crossed the distance. The familiar part had been exactly what she wanted it to be. And whatever came next could wait until she wanted it enough to move. --- ## Chapter 9 — What She Came For Ten minutes became twenty-three. Amber knew because eventually she opened one eye, found the clock across the room, and stared at it. Marcus noticed. “You counting?” “No.” “You looked at the time.” “Situational awareness.” “Of course.” Amber closed her eye again. Her cheek rested against his chest. The blanket covered them loosely. One of Marcus's hands remained in her hair. The other rested against her back. Nothing had happened for several minutes beyond breathing. Amber approved. Her body felt heavy in the pleasant way. Satisfied. Used without being exhausted. Warm everywhere except one foot that had somehow escaped the blanket. She moved it back underneath. Marcus looked down. “Cold?” “One foot.” “Tragic.” “Nearly died.” “I noticed.” Amber smiled without opening her eyes. Silence returned. Another minute. Maybe two. Her mind wandered. Not far. Mostly through what had just happened. Marcus. The trip. The ridiculous fact that she had woken up on Earth and was now naked in his bed on Crystal Palace. She smiled. His hand paused in her hair. “What?” “Still nothing.” “That smile.” “Apparently I have several.” “I've been documenting them.” Amber opened one eye. “That sounds creepy.” “Professional interest.” “In what profession?” Marcus considered. “Amber management.” She stared. Then laughed. “Absolutely fucking not.” “High-risk field.” “You'd last a week.” “I've known you longer than a week.” “Survival bias.” Marcus laughed. Amber settled again. His fingers resumed moving through her hair. The joke faded. Warmth remained. And underneath it, slowly, something else began returning. Not urgency. Not yet. Awareness. A thought her body seemed to notice before she consciously followed it. Marcus had asked over coffee what she wanted. She had told him. First this. Then the other thing. The thing she had spent months remembering. Amber stayed still. The thought remained. She remembered the first time. Not every detail. Memory had compressed sensations into landmarks. The unfamiliarity. The need to slow down. The strange first pressure. Stopping. Breathing. Trying again. Then the moment something had changed. The moment caution had stopped occupying all the available space and pleasure had started taking some of it. Then more. Then far more than she had expected. Amber's breathing changed. Barely. Marcus noticed. Of course. His fingers stopped. Not because he assumed. Because he had noticed. “Something?” Amber considered lying. For approximately half a second. “Yes.” Marcus waited. She liked that. He did not ask the obvious question. Did not turn the smallest shift in her body into permission. Amber traced a line across his chest. Once. Then back. “I'm thinking.” “I gathered.” “Dangerous.” “Historically.” Amber smiled. Her finger continued moving. Marcus stayed quiet. Eventually she said: “I remember more than I thought I did.” “Last time?” “Yes.” His hand moved once along her back. Nothing suggestive. Just contact. Amber's eyes remained closed. “I remembered the orgasms.” Marcus smiled. She could feel it under her cheek. “Convenient.” “Shut up.” “Yes, ma'am.” Amber lifted her head. “No.” Marcus looked innocent. “That was terrible.” “I'll recover.” She stared another second. Then settled back down. “I remembered those very clearly.” “I would hope so.” “Marcus.” “Sorry.” “No, you're not.” “No.” Amber laughed quietly. Then became serious again. “But I forgot how much time it took before I knew what I was doing.” Marcus's hand became still. “It was new.” “I know.” “And you were learning.” “I know.” Amber paused. “That part matters.” “Yes.” She lifted her head again. This time she stayed there. Marcus looked at her. Amber's short blonde hair had become thoroughly untidy. She did not care. “I don't want us to treat this like I've become indestructible because I liked it.” Marcus's expression softened. “I wouldn't.” “I know.” “And your body doesn't owe today anything because of last time.” Amber smiled. “That sounded suspiciously sensible.” “I have moments.” “Rare.” “Cruel.” She leaned in and kissed him. Not sexual. Not yet. Just grateful. When she moved back, Marcus touched her cheek. “Still want it?” Amber's answer came immediately. “Yes.” He watched her. “How much?” Amber smiled. “There you are.” “What?” “Making me say things.” “You could refuse.” “I could.” She shifted upward until she was lying partly across him. Her face close to his. “I really fucking want it.” Marcus's eyes warmed. Amber continued. “I didn't fly here just for that.” “I know.” “But…” She smiled. “It's a very significant benefit.” Marcus laughed. Amber kissed him. Longer now. Something changed inside the kiss. Not suddenly. The softness remained. But the resting part of the afternoon began to loosen around the edges. Marcus's hand moved down her back. Amber felt it. Her body responded immediately. Not arousal from zero. A banked fire receiving air. She kissed him again. More insistently. Marcus answered. Amber moved closer. Her leg slid over his. The blanket became inconvenient. She pushed it downward. Marcus helped. Not throwing it aside. Just moving it far enough. Cool air reached Amber's skin. She shivered. Marcus's hands warmed her immediately. “There.” Amber smiled. “Useful.” “Occasionally.” She kissed his shoulder. Then his neck. Marcus's breathing changed. Amber noticed. Good. She wanted him awake again too. Not merely capable. Wanting. She moved slowly, touching him without hurrying toward anything. Marcus returned the attention. Hands along her back. Her waist. Her hip. Amber's body became more alert with each pass. Not frantic. Ready to become curious again. She lifted her head. “Water first.” Marcus laughed. Amber pointed at him. “What?” “Nothing.” “That sounded like something.” “You're the responsible one now.” Amber stared. “Take that back.” “Never.” She climbed carefully off him. The room moved very slightly because standing immediately after prolonged horizontal satisfaction had apparently become an engineering challenge. Marcus saw the pause. “Okay?” “Yes.” Amber straightened. “Gravity attacked.” “Palace gravity?” “Hostile.” Marcus sat up. Amber took two steps. Stopped. Looked down. She was naked. That was fine. Marcus was naked. Also fine. Her shoes sat neatly beside the bed. Amber looked at them. Then at Marcus. “Do not say anything.” “I wasn't going to.” “Good.” She continued toward the water. Marcus joined her. Amber filled one glass. Drank. Refilled it. Marcus waited beside her. She handed him the glass before filling another for herself. “Sharing.” “Very civilized.” “Don't get used to it.” They drank. Not performatively. Amber was thirsty. That became apparent somewhere around the second glass. Marcus raised an eyebrow. Amber ignored him. When she finished, she placed the glass down. Marcus did the same. Neither immediately returned to the bed. Amber leaned against the counter. Marcus stood in front of her. She looked at him. The ordinary pause helped. It gave the desire space to become a choice again rather than merely continuation from what they had already done. Marcus seemed to understand. “So.” Amber smiled. “So.” “Still yes?” “Yes.” “Want to talk through anything?” She thought. “No surprises.” “Agreed.” “Slow at first.” “Yes.” “If I say stop…” “I stop.” “If I say stay still…” “I stay still.” “If I ask for more…” “I'll still check what you mean.” Amber's smile softened. “Yes.” Marcus touched her hip. Lightly. “And if today feels different?” “We listen to today.” His expression changed. Approval. Amber pointed at him. “Do not say it.” Marcus closed his mouth. She laughed. “I saw it.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were going to say good.” “Maybe.” “Banished.” “From my apartment?” “Potentially.” Marcus smiled. Amber reached for him. “Come here.” He did. The kiss began before they reached the bedroom again. Amber backed slowly. Marcus followed. Not steering her. Following. Her hands rested against his chest. One step. Another. Amber knew the room well enough now not to look behind herself. Still, when the back of her leg touched the edge of the bed, she laughed. “There.” “Found it.” “Excellent navigation.” Amber sat. Marcus remained standing in front of her. She looked up. The change in perspective made him seem even taller. Older. Solid. Familiar. Amber placed both hands against his hips. Not pulling yet. Just touching. “You know what was weird?” “What?” “The first time.” Marcus waited. “I remember wanting it.” “Yes.” “But right before we actually did it…” She searched for the feeling. “I got nervous again.” “That would be normal.” “I know.” Amber smiled faintly. “I think I expected wanting something to remove the nervous part.” “It usually doesn't.” “No.” She looked at the bed. Then at him. “I'm not nervous now.” Marcus touched her hair. “No?” “No.” Amber looked up. “I'm impatient.” He laughed. “There she is.” “But.” Marcus waited. Amber's expression changed. “Still slow.” “Yes, of course.” The answer came without hesitation. That settled something. She moved farther onto the bed. Marcus followed only when she reached for him. They did not begin immediately. Amber lay on her side first. Marcus beside her. Facing each other. Another kiss. Slow. Amber's hand moved down his arm. Their legs touched. She let herself become aroused again without aiming at anything. Marcus's mouth moved along her neck. Amber's eyes closed. The pleasure was familiar. Easy. That mattered. It gave her something known to hold while anticipating something different. His hand traveled over her hip. Stopped. Amber's eyes opened. “Keep going.” Marcus did. No sudden jump. Touch remained touch. Amber breathed. She shifted slightly. Exploring comfort. Position. What her body wanted today. The first arrangement felt wrong. Not painful. Wrong. Amber immediately shook her head. “No.” Marcus stopped. “What?” “Position.” “Okay.” Amber moved. She turned onto her front, then rose onto her knees and forearms, shifting one knee wider until the angle stopped feeling wrong. Marcus moved behind her but left space between them while she tested the position for herself. Her shoulders relaxed. She looked back at him. “Better.” Marcus touched her side. “This?” “Yes.” Amber breathed out. The anticipation intensified. She smiled despite herself. Marcus noticed. “What?” “I've been thinking about this for months.” “I know.” “No, I mean…” Amber laughed quietly. “This exact moment.” Marcus's expression warmed. “The preparation?” “The point where I know it's actually happening.” She swallowed. “And I'm still allowed to change my mind.” “Always.” Amber closed her eyes briefly. There. That was part of why this worked. Not because Marcus could make something intense happen. Because intensity did not remove her control. She looked at him again. “I don't want to.” “Change your mind?” “No.” Marcus nodded. Amber touched his arm. “Start.” Marcus moved in behind her, one hand steady at her hip. He closed the last space slowly, letting her feel the approach before anything changed. Preparation was familiar now only in theory. Amber remembered the logic. Her body remembered pieces. Knowing what would happen still did not make the first moment automatic. Marcus began to enter her slowly. The first strong pressure made Amber tense. Her fingers closed around his arm and Marcus stopped immediately, leaving the choice with her. Nothing else happened. Amber breathed. She waited. Her body slowly released the automatic resistance. “Again.” Marcus resumed. A little. Amber focused. Not on enduring. On understanding. Pressure. Stillness. Breathing. The strange boundary between too much and almost right. She held Marcus's arm. Not because she needed to keep him away. Because she wanted the connection. “Stay.” Marcus became completely still. Amber waited. Her breathing slowed. The sensation changed merely because nothing else did. What had felt demanding became manageable. Then interesting. Amber smiled. “Okay.” “More?” “Yes.” Marcus moved again. Amber inhaled sharply. Stopped him with her hand. He froze. “Too much?” “No.” She waited. “No, just…” Her eyes closed. “Different today.” “Want less?” “Not yet.” Marcus stayed still. Amber breathed again. Moved slightly on her own. Testing. The sensation changed. Her eyebrows rose. “Oh.” Marcus did not react beyond watching her. Amber adjusted again. Found the same thing. Not pleasure exactly. The possibility of it. A direction. “There.” “This angle?” “Yes.” Marcus remembered. Amber knew he did because nothing changed. He simply stayed. She explored the sensation herself. Tiny shifts. One made her tense. She abandoned it. Another felt neutral. Another made her stop. Not because it was bad. Because her body had suddenly supplied a strong memory. Amber laughed once, surprised. Marcus waited. “What?” “I remember this.” “Good remember?” Amber looked at him. “Yes.” She moved again. The sensation returned. This time she was ready for it. Her breathing deepened. “More.” Marcus gave her a little more. Slowly. Amber's fingers tightened around his arm. The pressure built. Her body resisted for one second. Then eased. “Stay.” He stayed. Amber closed her eyes. This was the point memory had failed to preserve properly. Not the pleasure later. This. The quiet negotiations with her own body. The way a sensation could be too much for three seconds and then become merely intense. The way stillness mattered. The way trust mattered. Amber breathed. Marcus's thumb moved once against her hand. Nothing else. She smiled. “Okay.” Marcus waited. Amber opened her eyes. “Again.” Another gradual change. Amber inhaled. Held. Released. The sensation deepened. Still not the thing she had remembered with such hunger. Not yet. But closer. She shifted on her own. Marcus followed only enough to stay aligned with her. Amber moved again. Something changed. Her mouth opened slightly. Marcus saw. “That?” “Maybe.” Amber tested it again. Yes. Not orgasmic. Not even close. But the first unmistakable pleasure was there now. It surprised a small breathy laugh out of her and loosened her shoulders. Good. Definitely good. Her smile appeared. “There you are.” Marcus looked amused. “Me?” “No.” Amber moved once more. “This.” Understanding reached his face. Amber laughed quietly. “I found it faster this time.” “You know what you're looking for.” “Apparently.” She adjusted again. The good sensation strengthened. Her breathing changed. Marcus remained careful. Amber became impatient. “More.” “How much?” She considered. “Small.” He gave her small. Amber's fingers tightened. “Oh, fuck.” Marcus stopped automatically. Amber immediately shook her head. “No, no.” “Okay?” “Yes.” She laughed breathlessly. “That was good.” Marcus relaxed slightly. Amber looked back at him. “Again.” He repeated the movement. Amber's head lowered. The pleasure was still buried under intensity. But it was there now. Clear. Recognizable. Her body remembered. More importantly, it wanted. Amber shifted. Found the angle again. Lost it. Swore. Marcus laughed softly. “Don't laugh.” “You moved.” “I know.” “You found it.” “I know.” “Try again.” Amber did. A small adjustment. Nothing. Another. Closer. Then: “Oh.” There. Amber became still. Marcus stayed with her. Her smile spread. “Found it.” “I noticed.” “Shut up.” She moved again. The pleasure answered. Not large. Enough. Amber's body relaxed around the knowledge of it. The unfamiliarity began losing territory. She was no longer asking whether this could become pleasurable. She already knew. Now she was rediscovering how. Amber looked at Marcus. “More.” He moved carefully. Amber breathed through the change. The pleasure strengthened. Her hand slid from his arm to the bedding. Gripped. Not tension from discomfort now. Something else. Marcus saw. “Still good?” “Yes.” “More?” Amber smiled. “Yes.” The rhythm began almost accidentally. One movement. Pause. Amber answered with one of her own. Another. Pause. Then again. Nothing fast. Nothing rough. A conversation carried through bodies rather than sentences. Marcus followed Amber. Amber controlled the pace. If she stopped, everything stopped. If she moved, he answered. The confidence that had taken so long to appear the first time returned gradually. Amber stopped analyzing every sensation. Not all at once. One question disappeared. Then another. Pressure stopped demanding a name. Intensity stopped needing evaluation every second. Pleasure became the loudest thing in the room. Amber's breathing shortened. Marcus's hand settled against her hip. She covered it with hers. “Stay there.” “Yes.” Amber moved. The angle held. Her mouth opened. “Oh, fuck.” There. That. The thing she had remembered. A deep, strange pleasure different from the familiar round before. Not better because it was stronger. Better because it was its own thing. Amber smiled helplessly. Marcus saw. “You found it.” She laughed. “Shut up.” “You did.” “Marcus.” “Yes?” “More.” He gave her more. The rhythm strengthened. Still controlled. Still slow enough for Amber to change anything. She did. A small shift. Better. She held it. Marcus followed. Amber's breathing broke. The pleasure began climbing properly. Her fingers tightened in the bedding. Months of memory suddenly felt embarrassingly inadequate. She had remembered this. But not enough. Not how different it felt from every other kind of sex. Not how much concentration could disappear once her body decided yes. Not how quickly yes could become more. Amber pushed back into the next movement. Marcus's breath changed. She smiled. “Still good?” He laughed quietly. “Yes.” “Excellent.” Another movement. Amber's smile vanished into sensation. Her eyes closed. The pleasure gathered. Not racing. Deepening. Layer after layer. Her body had already climaxed once today. That made everything feel slightly more sensitive. More connected. Amber did not know whether that would help. She stopped caring. Marcus stayed steady. Amber moved with him. Her hips found the rhythm without needing thought now. Confidence changed the whole experience. She was not receiving something being done to her. She was participating. Choosing. Taking. Asking. Marcus gave. Amber answered. The pleasure climbed. Her breathing became audible. She stopped trying to quiet it. There was nobody to hear who mattered. Marcus already knew. Amber's hand reached back. Found his arm. Held. “Marcus.” “Yes.” “Don't change anything.” “I won't.” The rhythm stayed exactly where it was. Amber almost laughed from relief. Instead she gasped. The first serious wave rolled through her. Not climax yet. Close enough to announce itself. Her body tightened automatically. Marcus felt it. Stayed steady. Amber's head lowered. “Oh, fuck.” Another wave. Higher. Her grip tightened. Marcus's free hand covered hers. Amber held onto him. The sensation became almost too much. She considered slowing. Then the intensity shifted. Opened. Pleasure flooded into the space underneath it. Amber's mouth opened. Nothing came out at first. Marcus said her name. “Amber.” That did something. She had no idea why. Did not care. Her body tightened again. The orgasm hit. Deep. Immediate once it crossed the line. Amber's entire rhythm broke apart. She froze, then pushed back instinctively into the sensation. Marcus slowed. Amber caught his arm harder. “No.” He understood. Held the same controlled movement. Amber's climax rolled through her in long pulses. Her breath became sound. Her forehead dropped against the bedding. The pleasure stayed. Longer than she expected. Then softened. Then surged once more. Amber shook. A laugh escaped somewhere in the middle of it because this was exactly the ridiculous thing she had spent months wanting. Marcus became still when she stopped moving. Amber breathed. Hard. Her fingers slowly loosened. The room returned in pieces. Bed. Light. Marcus. Her own heartbeat behaving like an idiot. She laughed again. Weakly. Marcus waited. Amber lifted her head. Looked back at him. His expression was somewhere between affection and dangerous amusement. She narrowed her eyes. “Don't.” “I haven't said anything.” “Your face.” Marcus smiled. Amber dropped her forehead back down. “Fuck.” His hand moved gently along her back. Amber closed her eyes. The first one. Not memory. Not anticipation. Not a promise made on Earth. Here. Now. Marcus. Crystal Palace. Her body still hummed with it. Marcus remained close without moving. Amber appreciated that more than she had words for. Eventually he asked: “Okay?” Amber considered the question carefully. Not because there was any doubt. Because she wanted the answer accurate. She smiled into the bedding. “Yes.” A pause. Then: “Very.” Marcus laughed softly. Amber turned her head enough to look at him. “And before you ask…” Marcus waited. Amber's smile grew. “No.” “No what?” “We're not done.” His eyebrows rose. Amber's eyes brightened. “Not remotely.” --- ## Chapter 10 — Again Marcus did not answer immediately. Amber lifted her head. Looked back at him. His expression had changed. Not surprise. He had known she wanted more. But perhaps not how quickly she would say it. Amber smiled. “What?” “You're certain?” “Yes.” Marcus's hand moved slowly along her back. “Want a minute?” Amber considered. That was different from asking whether she wanted to stop. She appreciated that. Her body still hummed from the first orgasm. Not settled yet. Not remotely. She breathed. Tested herself with a small movement. Intensity answered immediately. Amber closed her eyes. “Maybe thirty seconds.” Marcus laughed softly. “Very generous.” “I'm trying patience.” “How is it going?” “Badly.” He stayed still. Exactly still. Amber breathed again. The aftershocks softened. Not gone. Enough. She adjusted slightly. Marcus did not move until she did. Amber found the angle from before. The good one. Her body recognized it immediately. “Oh.” Marcus's hand settled at her hip. “That?” “Yes.” Amber moved again. Small. Controlled. The pleasure answered faster this time. That surprised her. She had expected to start over. Instead the first orgasm seemed to have left the path open. Not easier exactly. More familiar. Her body knew where this could go now. Marcus followed her movement. Slow. Amber inhaled. Again. Another answering motion. The pleasure sharpened. She smiled. “Oh, that's unfair.” “What?” “It remembers.” Marcus's voice softened. “So do you.” Amber looked back at him. “Yes.” She moved again. Stronger this time. Marcus matched her. The rhythm returned. Not built from zero. Picked up from where they had left it. Amber's breathing deepened almost immediately. Her fingers tightened in the bedding. The first orgasm had taken time to become possible. The second did not seem interested in waiting. She laughed once. Breathless. Marcus slowed automatically. Amber shook her head. “No.” “Too much?” “No.” She smiled. “Too good.” Marcus stayed with the same pace. Amber pushed back again. The pleasure came sharper. More direct. Less buried beneath unfamiliar intensity. Her body had stopped asking whether this was safe. That question had been answered. Stopped asking whether she liked it. That answer was now ridiculous. The only remaining question seemed to be how much. Amber moved again. Her breath caught. Marcus's hand tightened slightly at her hip. Not controlling. Following. She covered his hand with hers. “Here.” “Yes.” “Don't move your hand.” “I won't.” Amber found the rhythm again. The contact at her hip anchored her. Marcus behind her. The bed beneath her. The slow, deliberate movement. Everything else dropped away. The pleasure began climbing. Fast. Amber noticed. Her eyes widened. “Oh, fuck.” Marcus heard the change. “Already?” Amber laughed. “Don't sound so pleased.” “I didn't.” “You absolutely did.” Another movement. Amber lost the rest of the sentence. Her head lowered. The pleasure surged. Not enough to climax. Close enough to make her body tighten around the expectation. Marcus slowed slightly. Amber caught his hand harder. “No.” “Same pace?” “Yes.” He returned to it. Amber groaned. That was better. Much better. Her breathing broke apart. The second climb felt different. Less discovery. More certainty. She knew where the path went. That made her bolder. Amber adjusted. A fraction. The sensation changed. Deeper. More concentrated. Her mouth opened. Nothing came out for a second. Marcus noticed. “That better?” Amber nodded. Then managed: “Again.” He repeated it. Amber's fingers curled into the bedding. The pleasure rose. Fast enough now that she stopped trying to talk. Marcus stayed steady. Amber moved with him. Once. Twice. Then her control slipped. Her body tightened hard. The orgasm hit sooner than she expected. Amber gasped. The sound broke into something lower as the pleasure rolled through her. Marcus slowed. Amber immediately shook her head. “No.” He held the rhythm. Gentler. But present. Amber's second orgasm extended instead of fading. One pulse. Another. A deeper wave following behind. Her arms trembled. She laughed helplessly somewhere inside it. “Oh, fuck.” Marcus's hand stayed exactly where she had put it. Amber held onto it. Her body gradually softened. Not entirely. The sensitivity remained bright. She breathed. Hard. Marcus stopped. Amber stayed still. The pleasure ebbed slowly. She waited until she could think again. Then laughed. Marcus's voice came warm behind her. “That was thirty seconds?” Amber looked back. “Shut up.” “Just checking.” “You're insufferable.” “Yes.” Amber smiled. Then rested her forehead against the bedding. For a little while neither moved. Marcus's hand traced slowly along her side. Amber breathed. The second orgasm felt different in aftermath too. The first had left her satisfied. This one left her hungry. That seemed unfair. She said so. “This is unfair.” “What is?” Amber lifted her head. “It should be the other way around.” Marcus waited. “The more I come, the less I should want.” “Should?” “Yes.” “According to?” Amber opened her mouth. Stopped. “Common sense.” Marcus laughed. Amber narrowed her eyes. “Dangerous.” “For you?” “For your survival.” Marcus's thumb moved once against her hip. Amber shivered. “Oh, don't.” “You said don't move my hand.” “That was not moving the hand.” “Technically.” Amber glared back at him. “Nearly sixty and already arguing technicalities.” “Experience.” She laughed. Then shifted again. Just a little. The reaction surprised her. Pleasure sparked immediately. Amber stopped. Marcus stopped too. Neither spoke. Amber moved again. Same result. Not enough for another climax. Enough to reveal something. She smiled slowly. Marcus saw. “That face.” “What face?” “The one where you're about to make a bad decision.” Amber looked back at him. “No.” “No?” “This is a very good decision.” Marcus laughed. Amber's hand moved from his to the bed. She tested the angle again. Another small pulse of pleasure. Her body answered instantly. “Oh.” Marcus watched her. Amber breathed. Then moved once more. The pleasure came back. Not gone. Waiting. She turned her head enough to look at him. “I think I'm still close.” Marcus's expression sharpened. “Want to stop?” Amber stared at him. “No.” “Slow down?” She considered. Then shook her head. “Not yet.” Marcus nodded. Amber moved again. The rhythm resumed. Slower this time. Not because she wanted less. Because her body was too sensitive for anything faster. Each movement reached her with unreasonable clarity. Amber breathed through it. Marcus stayed careful. She could feel his restraint. Appreciated it. Wanted it. And somehow wanted more at the same time. “Little more.” Marcus adjusted. Amber's breath caught. “Yes.” Another. Amber's eyes closed. The pleasure built again. Not from the bottom. From halfway up. That was new. She laughed softly. Marcus smiled. “What?” “I think this is why I kept thinking about it.” “Only think?” Amber opened one eye. “Do not ruin your own moment.” “Fair.” Amber closed it again. The rhythm continued. Her breathing became uneven. Marcus's hand moved along her side. Amber caught it. Not stopping him. Guiding. Higher. Then back to the hip. “There.” “Again?” “Yes.” The contact steadied her. Amber moved with him. Her body began tightening. She recognized it. Already. “That is ridiculous.” Marcus's voice was quiet. “What is?” Amber laughed breathlessly. “Again.” The word barely left her before the next movement turned laughter into a gasp. Marcus stayed with her. Amber's fingers clenched. The third orgasm approached differently. No long climb. No warning wave. Just a sudden narrowing of everything. Amber felt the moment arrive and had enough time only to say: “Marcus.” Then it broke. Harder. Shorter at first. Amber's body locked around the sensation. Her breath vanished. Marcus stopped completely this time. Amber shook her head frantically. “No, stay, stay.” He stayed. Not moving. Present. The stillness made the orgasm deepen instead of disappear. Amber pressed back into him instinctively. Another pulse rolled through her. Then another. She groaned into the bedding. Marcus's hand remained at her hip. Amber clung to it. The pleasure held her there. Long enough that her legs began trembling. Then slowly released. Amber collapsed forward. Not dramatically. Simply because every muscle involved had decided horizontal was now the correct philosophy. Marcus stayed close. Still connected. Still careful. Amber breathed into the bed. Once. Twice. Then: “Fuck.” Marcus laughed softly. Amber lifted one hand without raising her head. “Do not.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were about to.” “No.” “Liar.” Marcus's hand moved along her back. Amber closed her eyes. The touch felt ridiculously soothing after everything else. Her breathing slowed. Eventually she turned her head. Marcus was looking at her. That same expression. Warm. Amused. Concerned enough to be watching carefully. Amber smiled. “Three.” Marcus's eyebrows rose. “You're counting?” “Of course I'm counting.” “I thought that was a Palace competition problem.” “No competition.” Amber's smile widened. “Research.” Marcus laughed. “Terrifying word from you.” “Accurate.” She rested again. Another minute passed. Maybe two. Her body remained sensitive. Very. Amber tested herself with the smallest movement. Marcus felt it. “Amber.” She smiled. “Yes?” “You're testing.” “Yes.” “How does it feel?” She considered. “Like my entire nervous system has become vindictive.” Marcus laughed. Amber moved again. Very slightly. A bright pulse answered. She stopped. Breathed. Then smiled. “But still good.” “Want water?” Amber thought about it. “Yes.” “Want to separate first?” She did not answer immediately. That was the question. Not because separation would be bad. Because she was not sure she wanted the moment broken yet. Amber looked back. “Give me a minute.” Marcus nodded. Nothing else. Amber settled. His hand continued moving along her back. Gentle. Slow. The heat in her body gradually changed from sharp pleasure to deep warmth. She could feel exhaustion beginning at the edges. Not enough to stop. Enough to respect. Amber closed her eyes. She remembered the ten. Not as a scoreboard. As a ridiculous fact. A chain of pleasure that had become one of the strongest reasons Marcus had remained in her thoughts. She smiled. Marcus noticed. “What?” Amber opened her eyes. “Nothing.” “That smile again.” “Yes.” “What are you thinking?” Amber considered lying. Then decided honesty was more entertaining. “Seven.” Marcus stared. Amber smiled innocently. “Seven what?” She turned her head farther. “You know.” Marcus's expression became a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Amber.” “What?” “You've had three.” “Yes.” “And you're thinking about seven more?” Amber's eyes brightened. “Not immediately.” “That is not reassuring.” She laughed. “Hydration first.” Marcus closed his eyes. Amber smiled. “There.” “What?” “Now you're nervous.” He opened them. “I have excellent reasons.” “You said your stamina was better than mine.” Marcus stared. Amber's smile became unbearable. “Oh, fuck.” “There it is.” Marcus laughed despite himself. Amber finally shifted carefully away. The separation made her whole body register itself at once. She froze. Marcus became still. “Okay?” Amber breathed. “Yes.” Then laughed weakly. “Jesus.” “Too sensitive?” “Very.” “Water.” Amber nodded. “Yes.” Marcus helped her turn carefully. Not lifting unless she needed it. Amber managed the movement herself. Mostly. She rolled onto her back. Lay there. Stared at the ceiling. Marcus sat beside her. Amber looked over. “Do not look smug.” “I am not smug.” “You are.” “I am concerned for my survival.” “Better.” He reached for the water. Amber took the glass. Drank. Slowly this time. Marcus drank too. Amber watched him. “Still okay?” He lowered the glass. “Yes.” “You'd tell me?” “Yes.” She held his gaze. “Good.” Marcus smiled. Amber pointed. “That one is permitted.” “Thank you.” She finished the water. Put the glass aside. Then lay back. Marcus settled beside her. Amber immediately rolled against him. Head on his shoulder. One arm across his chest. He wrapped an arm around her. For a while, nothing happened. No fourth attempt. No counting. No challenge. Just recovery. Amber closed her eyes. The hunger remained. Changed again. Not frantic. Confident. She knew there would be more. That knowledge itself was enough for now. Marcus kissed the top of her head. Amber smiled. “Thirty minutes.” “For what?” “Before I start causing problems again.” Marcus laughed. “That's more reasonable.” Amber opened one eye. “Don't get comfortable.” “I wouldn't dare.” She closed it again. “Smart man.” They stayed there. Three orgasms behind her. Seven still sitting somewhere in the future. And for once Amber had absolutely no intention of rushing toward them. --- ## Chapter 11 — The Middle Distance Thirty minutes became forty-one. Amber blamed food. Marcus blamed Amber. Neither argument was particularly strong. They had eventually left the bed long enough to find something simple to eat, because Marcus had correctly pointed out that enthusiasm was not a substitute for calories. Amber had accused him of sounding ancient. Then eaten nearly everything he put in front of her. Marcus had said nothing. That silence had been intolerable. “You're doing it again.” He looked up from his plate. “Doing what?” “Being right quietly.” “I didn't say anything.” “Exactly.” Marcus smiled. Amber pointed her fork at him. “Hostile.” “You're eating.” “That does not prove anything.” “You asked for seconds.” “Circumstantial evidence.” Marcus laughed. Amber continued eating. She felt good. Really good. Not untouched. Her body had opinions about the afternoon. Several. Sitting had required a little negotiation. Walking had made her aware of muscles she had apparently forgotten existed. Nothing hurt. That mattered. Everything simply reminded her that she had spent a significant portion of the day enthusiastically testing Marcus's allegedly superior stamina. Amber looked across the table. Marcus caught her. “What?” “Assessing.” “Me?” “Yes.” “Why?” She smiled. “Stamina.” Marcus closed his eyes. “There it is.” “You started this months ago.” “I made one joke.” “You made a claim.” “Amber.” “Documented claim.” Marcus opened his eyes. “You remember everything inconvenient.” “Yes.” “Useful skill.” “Usually.” She finished the last bite. Set the fork down. Then leaned back. Marcus looked at her plate. “Done?” “Yes.” “Water?” Amber pointed at him. “You're becoming predictable.” “You need water.” “Still.” He handed her the glass. Amber drank. All of it. Marcus raised an eyebrow. She put the empty glass down. “Not one word.” “I value my life.” “Smart.” --- They did not return to bed immediately. That surprised Amber. She had expected the food break to be exactly that. Break. Then bedroom. Instead they ended up in the sitting area again. Marcus with one arm along the back of the couch. Amber curled beside him, one leg tucked beneath herself. Her blonde hair had surrendered any pretense of styling. Marcus had apparently decided this was charming. Amber disagreed. Mostly. “You're staring at my hair.” “Yes.” “It looks terrible.” “No.” “It looks like I was dragged through a ventilation system.” “Very specific.” “Palace has a lot of ventilation.” Marcus touched one short strand that had decided gravity was optional. Amber frowned at him. He smiled. “What?” “Nothing.” She swatted his hand away. Marcus laughed. Amber leaned against him anyway. The station beyond the window continued living. People moving far below. Transit lights. A distant residential tower catching reflected sunlight. Amber watched quietly. “This is weird.” Marcus followed her gaze. “What is?” “Being here without everyone.” “Bad weird?” “No.” She considered. “Quiet weird.” Marcus nodded. Amber rested her head against his shoulder. “I like it.” “Good.” She lifted her head. Marcus immediately grimaced. Amber smiled. “Too late.” “I know.” She kissed his cheek. Then settled again. The afternoon had shifted. The first hours had been anticipation finally discharged into reality. Now Amber had stopped feeling like a visitor who had arrived with an agenda. She was simply here. With Marcus. That made the next stir of desire feel different. Less like unfinished business. More like appetite returning after a good meal. Amber noticed it gradually. A warmth. Awareness of his arm around her. His thigh against hers. The memory of three orgasms sitting pleasantly close beneath her skin. She did nothing. Waited. The feeling stayed. Expanded. Marcus's fingers moved absently along her shoulder. Amber's eyes closed. There. Her body answered. Not urgently. Interested. She opened her eyes. Looked at him. Marcus noticed. “That face.” Amber smiled. “What face?” “The one from earlier.” “You're going to need a better classification system.” “I have one.” “Oh?” “Yes.” Marcus looked at her. “This one means trouble.” Amber laughed. “Wrong.” “No?” She shifted. Turned toward him. “This one means I've recovered.” Marcus's eyebrows rose. “Entirely?” Amber considered. Then smiled. “Enough.” Marcus did not move toward her. That remained one of the things Amber liked most about him. He let the declaration belong to her before doing anything with it. She climbed into his lap. Marcus laughed softly. “Subtle.” “Waste of time.” Amber settled comfortably. His hands found her waist. Her arms went around his neck. She kissed him. No uncertainty. No test. Just desire returning in a form both of them understood. The kiss grew slowly. Marcus did not hurry it toward the bedroom. Amber appreciated that. Then became impatient with it. She pulled back. “Bed.” Marcus looked toward the bedroom. Then at her. “You sure?” Amber smiled. “You're going to ask every time.” “Yes.” “Good.” Marcus waited. Amber kissed him once. “Yes.” --- The fourth began with laughter. That was what Amber would remember later. Not intensity. Not concentration. Laughter. She had tried a different position. It had seemed clever in theory. For approximately six seconds. Then her balance betrayed her. Marcus caught her before she could slide sideways. Amber ended up half across him, one leg trapped in an angle that made absolutely no sense. Silence. Then Marcus started laughing. Amber stared at him. “Don't.” That made it worse. “Marcus.” “I am trying.” “You are failing.” “Yes.” Amber tried to reorganize herself. That went badly. She started laughing too. “Fuck.” Marcus held her securely while she untangled. “This was your idea.” “I know.” “Still committed?” “To the idea?” “Yes.” “Absolutely not.” Marcus laughed again. Amber finally settled with Marcus behind her, one knee braced where it gave her the control she wanted. “There.” “Better?” “Yes.” She looked back at him. “Much.” Marcus's hands settled carefully at her hips and waited. Amber nodded once. He entered her slowly. The first joining stole the last of her laughter for a beat. Amber went still, breathed through the intensity, then made one tiny movement of her own. Pleasure answered sooner than she expected. Her eyebrows rose. “Oh.” Marcus stayed still. Amber moved again, felt the same warm answer, and smiled. “This.” Marcus nodded. Only then did the rhythm begin, almost lazily. No urgency. Amber had already proved everything she cared to prove. Now she let herself enjoy. The pleasure arrived with less resistance than before. Her body knew the sensations. Knew the pacing. Knew Marcus. Amber experimented. Small changes. One did nothing. Another made her pause. A third made her eyes close. Marcus noticed. “That?” “Yes.” He stayed with it. Amber smiled. The fourth orgasm built while she was still smiling. That was new. No sharp climb. No desperate concentration. The pleasure accumulated beneath the laughter and warmth until Amber suddenly realized she was much closer than expected. “Oh.” Marcus's expression changed. Amber laughed quietly. “I didn't notice.” “You noticed now.” “Yes.” The rhythm continued. Amber's laughter disappeared. Her breathing deepened. She leaned forward. Hands against Marcus. Eyes closing. The pleasure gathered. Not violently. Almost comfortably. Then crossed the line. Amber's whole body tightened. She made a surprised sound. Marcus slowed. She nodded immediately. “Yes.” He stayed with her. The climax rolled through in smooth waves. Less overwhelming than the third. Longer. Amber breathed through it. Let each wave come. When the last softened, she rested against Marcus. Head on his shoulder. Still smiling. “That one was sneaky.” Marcus kissed her hair. “I'll apologize.” “No.” “No?” “I liked it.” “Good.” Amber lifted her head. Marcus closed his eyes. She laughed. “Sorry.” “You're not.” “No.” They stayed together. Close. Not ready to separate. Amber's fingers traced idle shapes against him. Her body felt warm and loose. The fourth had not exhausted her. If anything, it had relaxed something. Marcus seemed to feel the same shift. His hands remained gentle. Nothing chasing. Amber liked that so much she kissed him again. The kiss became another. Then another. The space after the orgasm began slowly becoming the space before something else. Amber noticed. Smiled. Marcus noticed the smile. “No.” She laughed. “What?” “Whatever you're thinking.” “You don't know what I'm thinking.” “I know you.” “Dangerous confidence.” “Proven.” Amber shifted slightly. Pleasure sparked. Not climax. Not yet. Enough. She looked at him. “Oh.” Marcus's eyebrows rose. Amber moved again. Same result. She smiled. “Interesting.” “That word worries me.” “It should.” --- The fifth took longer. Not because Amber needed more preparation. Because she kept stopping. Not from discomfort. From curiosity. The pattern had changed. Her body was no longer responding in one predictable way. Certain movements that had worked earlier now felt merely good. Others that had done little suddenly made her breath catch. Amber treated this as a personal challenge. Marcus treated it as information. “Again,” she said. He repeated the movement. Amber frowned. “No.” “Wrong?” “Not wrong.” She adjusted. “Different.” Marcus waited. Amber tried another angle. Her eyes widened. “There.” “This?” “Yes.” Marcus stayed. Amber moved. The sensation returned. Stronger. She smiled. “That.” Marcus followed her. Amber's breathing changed. Then the sensation disappeared. She froze. “Fuck.” Marcus stopped. “What?” “Lost it.” He smiled. Amber narrowed her eyes. “Do not.” “I said nothing.” She shifted. Again. Nothing. Amber frowned at her own body. “This is rude.” Marcus laughed. “Your body?” “Yes.” “Want help?” Amber looked back at him. “Maybe.” Marcus adjusted slightly. Amber waited. Nothing. “Again.” Another small change. Amber's breath caught. “Oh.” Marcus stopped. Amber smiled. “You found it.” “Apparently.” “Stay.” He stayed. Amber moved. The sensation bloomed again. There. The fifth began building properly. Slower than the fourth. More demanding. Amber needed concentration this time. Her hands pressed into the bedding. Her breathing deepened. Marcus stayed exactly where she wanted him. Amber moved carefully. One rhythm. Then another. The pleasure strengthened. Her shoulders relaxed. Her head lowered. “Yes.” Marcus's hand settled at her side. Amber caught it. Held. Not guiding now. Just wanting the contact. The climb continued. Long. Frustratingly long. Amber came close. Then lost it. She groaned. Marcus slowed. “Okay?” “Yes.” “Want to stop?” “No.” She laughed weakly. “Absolutely not.” “Different angle?” Amber considered. “No.” She moved. Found the sensation again. “This is right.” Marcus nodded. Amber breathed. The pleasure began rebuilding. Less quickly this time. She accepted that. Stopped trying to force it. That changed everything. The next movement reached deeper. Amber exhaled. Her body softened. Another. Better. The frustration left. Pleasure returned. Marcus felt the change. His hand tightened gently around hers. Amber smiled without lifting her head. “There.” The fifth climbed again. This time Amber did not chase. She let Marcus stay steady. Let her own body find the rhythm. The peak approached almost reluctantly. Then suddenly stopped being reluctant at all. Amber gasped. Her fingers locked around Marcus's hand. “Don't change.” “I won't.” The climax arrived hard enough to surprise her. Her whole body tightened. The long climb converted into a short, powerful release. Amber cried out once. Then lost the rest into breath. Marcus slowed exactly enough. The pleasure pulsed through her. Once. Twice. Then dropped sharply. Amber collapsed forward. Breathing hard. Marcus stayed still. She laughed into the bedding. “That one was an asshole.” Marcus laughed too. Amber raised one finger. “Not a word.” “I wasn't going to say anything.” “You were.” “Yes.” Amber turned her head enough to look at him. His smile was unbearable. She smiled back anyway. “Five.” “You're still counting.” “Yes.” “Why?” Amber thought about it. Then shrugged. “Because ten is funny.” Marcus stared. Amber's smile widened. “Come on.” “I'm reconsidering every decision that led to meeting you.” “Too late.” “Clearly.” She laughed. Then winced faintly. Not pain. Sensitivity. Marcus noticed immediately. “Rest.” Amber did not argue. That told him enough. They separated carefully. Amber rolled onto her side. Marcus lay beside her. His hand rested at her waist. No teasing. No expectation. Amber closed her eyes. “Five minutes.” Marcus laughed. She opened one eye. “What?” “Your estimates.” “Fine.” Amber corrected herself. “Twenty.” “Better.” --- Twenty became almost an hour. Amber slept for part of it. Not deeply. A warm drifting half-sleep with Marcus beside her and Palace light moving slowly across the room. When she woke properly, she did not know what had woken her. Marcus was still there. On his back. Eyes closed. Amber studied him. Grey hair. Relaxed face. One arm resting above his head. He looked older asleep. Not fragile. Simply unguarded. Amber smiled. She liked him. That thought felt particularly uncomplicated now. No crisis. No comparison. No need to rank one affection against another. She loved Mai. She loved home. She also liked Marcus very much. Those truths sat comfortably beside each other. Amber moved closer. Marcus opened one eye. “You're awake.” “Yes.” “Good nap?” “I wasn't asleep.” “You snored.” Amber froze. “I do not snore.” Marcus closed his eye again. “You did.” “Liar.” “Tiny snore.” “I will kill you.” “Later.” Amber stared. Then laughed. She climbed partly over him. Marcus opened both eyes. “That was fast.” “What?” “Recovery.” Amber smiled. “I had a nap.” “You weren't asleep.” “Exactly.” She kissed him. Soft. Marcus answered. Amber remained there. One hand against his chest. Their kiss stayed gentle for a while. No agenda. Then Marcus's hand moved along her back. Amber's body answered with a small shiver. She paused. Interesting. Marcus stopped. Amber shook her head. “Again.” He repeated the touch. Another shiver. She smiled. “Okay.” “What?” “I think I'm ridiculously sensitive now.” “Problem?” Amber considered. “No.” Marcus waited. Amber moved closer. “Maybe useful.” “That sounds dangerous.” “You keep saying that.” “Evidence keeps accumulating.” She kissed him again. The sixth started there. No immediate return to the earlier rhythm. No urgency to recreate what had already worked. Amber was too sensitive for that. Instead everything began with touch. Hands. Mouths. Slow contact. Marcus tracing along her back until Amber shivered. Amber returning the attention until Marcus's breathing changed. They let arousal return without forcing it into a specific shape. Amber liked the difference. The afternoon had stopped being one long act. It had become several encounters sharing the same day. When she finally wanted more, she said so quietly. “Marcus.” “Yes?” “I want another.” He looked at her. “Still the same?” Amber thought carefully. “Yes.” Then: “But slower.” “Okay.” She smiled. “That one is allowed too.” Marcus kissed her. Amber turned away from him only when she was ready, reached back for his hand, and settled into the position they had used before. Marcus came in behind her but waited until she drew him closer. “Slow.” “I know.” He began to enter her in careful stages. The first change made Amber catch her breath and lift one hand in an immediate pause. Marcus froze. She waited until the sharp edge softened, then looked back with a small smile. “Again.” The next stage brought the first low wash of pleasure with the pressure. Amber's eyes closed for a second and her fingers tightened around his. “That.” She stopped him once more later, not because anything hurt, but because she wanted thirty seconds of stillness with his hand in hers. When she wanted him closer again, she said so. Marcus followed slowly. The sixth built almost entirely out of patience. Amber's breathing changed gradually. The pleasure remained lower. Deeper. Less urgent. Marcus never accelerated merely because her reactions grew stronger. That made them stronger still. Amber closed her eyes. “Exactly like that.” He stayed. Her hand found his. Their fingers linked. Amber smiled. The intimacy of that almost embarrassed her. Almost. Then pleasure swallowed the thought. She moved gently. Marcus answered. The rhythm stayed slow. Amber's body relaxed into it. That was the difference. No tension. No fight. No searching. She knew the sensations now. Trusted them. Trusted him. The pleasure spread. Not climbing sharply. Expanding. Amber breathed. The room felt warm. Marcus's hand in hers. His other hand steady against her. Nothing hurried. Her body began tightening almost lazily. Amber recognized it. Smiled. “Oh.” Marcus looked at her. “What?” “It's coming.” He did not change anything. Perfect. Amber closed her eyes again. The pleasure continued expanding until there was nowhere else for it to go. The sixth orgasm arrived quietly. No cry. No sudden collapse. Amber's breath simply stopped. Her fingers tightened around Marcus's. Her body drew inward around the sensation. Then slowly released. A deep wave. Another. A third. Amber exhaled with a trembling sound. Marcus remained exactly where he was. The pleasure rolled through her until her whole body softened. She opened her eyes. Marcus was watching her. Amber smiled. “That one.” “Yes?” She swallowed. “That one was fucking lovely.” Marcus's expression softened. “Good.” Amber stared at him. Then laughed weakly. “I'll allow it.” He laughed too. They stayed together through the last aftershocks. No counting for several minutes. Amber did not care about numbers. Not then. She cared about Marcus's hand in hers. The quiet. The fact that she had asked for slow and he had given her slow without making it smaller. Eventually they separated. Marcus lay beside her. Amber rolled immediately against him. His arm came around her. She tucked her face beneath his chin. For a long time neither said anything. Then Marcus asked: “Six?” Amber smiled against his chest. “You're counting now.” “I've been infected.” “Tragic.” “Apparently.” Amber closed her eyes. Six. Four remained. The thought did not feel like a challenge anymore. It felt like possibility. Amber traced one slow line across Marcus's chest. “Not now.” “I wasn't asking.” “I know.” “Later?” She smiled. “Yes.” Marcus kissed her hair. Amber settled closer. Outside the window, Crystal Palace continued turning through sunlight and shadow. Inside, there was no schedule. No competition. No witnesses. No reason for the next moment to arrive before they wanted it. Amber closed her eyes. And for once, even she was content to let later take its time. --- ## Chapter 12 — Nine Amber woke without having meant to sleep. Not deeply. Not long. Enough that opening her eyes required a moment of negotiation with reality. Marcus was beside her. Still. Warm. One arm around her. Amber stared at the ceiling. Then slowly turned her head. Marcus's eyes were closed. She smiled. For perhaps thirty seconds she considered being sensible. It was a good thirty seconds. Then Marcus opened one eye. “No.” Amber's smile widened. “I didn't say anything.” “You were thinking.” “Dangerous accusation.” “Accurate.” Amber moved closer. Marcus opened the other eye. “That does not improve your case.” “I'm not building a case.” “No?” Amber kissed his shoulder. “No.” Another kiss. Higher. Then his neck. Marcus exhaled. Amber smiled against his skin. “I am conducting research.” “There it is.” She lifted her head. “What?” “The word that precedes trouble.” “Only for you.” Marcus looked at her. “Recovered?” Amber checked. Not just desire. Her body. Sensitivity. Fatigue. The quiet warning signs that separated wanting more from merely wanting the idea of more. She moved experimentally. Nothing protested. A faint warmth answered. Interesting. “Yes.” Marcus remained watching. Amber added: “Mostly.” “Mostly.” “Enough.” Marcus's hand moved along her side. Amber waited for her body to answer. It did. Softly. Pleasantly. No sharp sensitivity. No warning. She smiled. “Definitely enough.” Marcus kissed her forehead. Amber frowned. “That was suspiciously paternal.” Marcus laughed. “Oh, fuck off.” “There. Better.” Amber climbed partly over him. Marcus's hands settled at her waist. She looked down at him. “Seven.” He closed his eyes. “Of course.” “You knew this was coming.” “I hoped you'd forget.” “I forget nothing.” “That is demonstrably false.” “Nothing useful.” Marcus laughed. Amber kissed him. --- The seventh took the longest to begin. Not because either of them hesitated. Because neither of them wanted to rush back into the pattern. Amber had already spent the day discovering that repetition did not have to mean sameness. So they let the next encounter find its own shape. A kiss. Then another. Marcus touching her without aiming anywhere. Amber doing the same. Long pauses where desire existed without needing immediate action. Her body warmed slowly. That felt good. Different from the sixth. Less sensitive. More settled. Amber eventually rolled onto her back. Marcus followed. She touched his face. “Not yet.” He stopped. Amber smiled. “Kiss me.” He did. That was all she wanted for several minutes. Just Marcus. Mouth. Hands. Heat. The easy familiarity they had rebuilt over the afternoon. When Amber finally shifted beneath him and drew him closer, it felt less like starting something new than opening a door they had deliberately left closed until now. She rolled onto her side, drew one knee forward, and guided Marcus in behind her. The position put his face close enough that she could turn and kiss him without giving up the quiet control she wanted. She looked at him. “Yes.” Marcus entered her slowly. Amber inhaled at the first joining and stayed still until the intensity settled. Then came the first familiar warmth underneath it. Her eyes softened and she reached back for his hand. “Okay.” She moved first. Marcus answered. The seventh began softly, with a steady rhythm that let pleasure gather one layer at a time. Amber liked that. She stopped thinking about numbers. For a while. Marcus's hand settled at her hip. Amber covered it with hers. The familiar anchor. Her breathing deepened. The pleasure spread. Not sharp. Warm. Slow. She closed her eyes. Marcus stayed with the same rhythm. Amber's body gradually stopped needing instruction. She moved naturally now. Confidence without impatience. The kind that came from already knowing she could stop. Already knowing he would listen. Already knowing the destination did not matter enough to rush the road. The seventh orgasm grew almost invisibly. Amber noticed only when her breathing became uneven. She opened her eyes. Marcus was watching her. “No.” He smiled. “What?” “You saw it before I did.” “Yes.” “Rude.” Amber moved again. The pleasure jumped. “Oh.” Marcus's expression warmed. Amber laughed softly. “Fine.” The rhythm continued. Amber let herself relax. The next wave rose. Another behind it. Her body tightened gradually. No sudden edge. Just inevitability. Amber held Marcus's hand. Her eyes closed. The orgasm arrived as a long, deep release. Amber exhaled through it rather than crying out. Her fingers tightened. Marcus slowed. Stayed close. Amber's body pulsed around the pleasure. Once. Again. Then softened. She opened her eyes. Marcus kissed her. Amber smiled into it. “That was nice.” “Nice?” “Yes.” “Seven orgasms and we've reached nice.” “Don't sound offended.” Marcus laughed. Amber touched his cheek. “Different nice.” “Better?” “Much.” They stayed together through the aftermath. Amber's heartbeat settled. Marcus's hand moved slowly along her side. Neither mentioned eight. Not yet. --- Eight arrived because Marcus made Amber laugh. Not intentionally. That made it worse. They had separated and shifted onto their sides. Amber had stolen most of the blanket. Marcus had objected. Amber had claimed orbital guest privilege. Marcus had informed her that orbital guest privilege was not a recognized legal doctrine. Amber had demanded counsel. Marcus had said: “You own a security company.” Amber stared at him. “What does that have to do with anything?” “You people always know lawyers.” “We know violent people.” “That's not the same thing.” “Sometimes.” Marcus laughed. Amber tried not to. Failed. Then Marcus tugged the blanket. Amber held on. “No.” “You have eighty percent.” “I am small.” “That makes it worse.” “I require insulation.” “You are radiating heat.” “Hostile science.” Marcus pulled again. Amber rolled toward him to protect her territory. That was the mistake. Or perhaps the success. Her body pressed against his. The laughter stopped first. Not awkwardly. Just naturally. Amber looked at him. Marcus looked back. Their hands were still gripping opposite sides of the same blanket. Amber released it. Marcus did too. Silence. Then Amber kissed him. Marcus answered. The kiss stayed playful for several seconds. Then warmth replaced laughter. Amber moved closer. Marcus's hand slid behind her. She felt the shift in her own body immediately. Not a slow return this time. Interest sharpened fast. Amber broke the kiss. “Okay.” Marcus smiled. “What?” “That happened quickly.” “Yes.” Amber looked down between them. Then back up. “Eight.” Marcus groaned. She laughed. “You're the one who stole the blanket.” “You stole it first.” “Cause and effect.” “That is not how cause and effect works.” Amber kissed him again. “Too late.” --- The eighth was more playful. Amber wanted it that way. No solemnity. No deep concentration. No sense that every sensation needed to be catalogued. They already knew enough. She tried one position and abandoned it almost immediately because it felt boring. Marcus objected to the word. Amber stood by it. For the second, she turned and settled over him facing away, taking most of the control for herself. Marcus put his hands at her hips and waited. “This one.” “Sure?” “Yes.” Amber lowered herself toward him in small stages. At the first joining her laugh cut off into a caught breath. She froze for one beat, then deliberately continued when the sensation turned warm instead of merely intense. “Oh. Yes.” Her first movement was her own. Marcus followed it. The rhythm found itself quickly, and her body responded faster than expected. Again. That seemed to be happening now. Each orgasm had left something behind. Not merely sensitivity. Familiarity. A shorter path. Amber laughed when pleasure climbed unexpectedly. Marcus smiled. “What?” “You're dangerous.” “You flew here.” “Still your fault.” “How?” “You were here.” Marcus laughed. Amber's next response erased the joke. Her fingers tightened. The pleasure sharpened. “Stay.” He did. Amber moved with him. Faster than before. Not rough. Energetic. Her body felt awake now. The fatigue from earlier had retreated enough to become background. Amber knew it would return. Later. Right now she wanted this. The eighth built quickly. Not as quickly as the second. Fast enough to make her lose track of the teasing. Marcus kept the rhythm steady. Amber's breathing shortened. She grabbed his shoulder. “Almost.” He did not change anything. Good. Amber closed her eyes. The peak approached. Then stalled. Her eyes opened. “No.” Marcus slowed immediately. “What?” “Lost it.” “Want to stop?” “No.” Amber laughed breathlessly. “Fuck no.” She adjusted. Once. Nothing. Again. There. “Wait.” Marcus stayed still. Amber moved carefully. Found the sensation. Smiled. “There.” He followed her. Amber's breathing deepened again. The pleasure returned. Not from zero. Close. The interruption had made it sharper somehow. She held the angle. Marcus followed. Amber's body tightened. The eighth orgasm came suddenly. Hard enough that she gasped. Then laughed in the middle of it. Marcus nearly lost the rhythm. Amber gripped him. “Don't you dare.” That made him laugh too. Amber's climax broke into a strange mixture of pleasure and helpless laughter. Her body trembled. The pleasure rolled through. She buried her face against him. “Fuck.” Marcus stayed close until it faded. Amber eventually opened her eyes. “That was ridiculous.” “Yes.” “Good ridiculous.” “Yes.” Amber glared. Marcus smiled. “Allowed?” She considered. “Yes.” He kissed her. Amber kissed back. Then simply stayed there. Eight. The number returned only after the pleasure had faded. She smiled. Marcus saw. “No.” Amber laughed. “You know what I'm thinking.” “Yes.” “Smart.” “Terrified.” “Good.” Marcus frowned. Amber smiled. “Mine.” --- The rest before nine was longer. Neither argued about it. Amber drank water. Then more. Marcus ate something small. Amber stole half. He pointed out that this was not how sharing worked. Amber ignored him. They sat by the window. No clothes. Blanket around Amber's shoulders. Marcus beside her. Palace light shifted across the room. The station had moved into a different part of its cycle. Evening, such as orbit allowed the concept. Amber looked outside. Nine. One more tonight. She knew that now. Not because ten had become impossible. Because her body had begun giving clearer answers. Tired. Satisfied. Capable of more. Not infinitely. Amber leaned back. Marcus looked at her. “You're calculating.” “Yes.” “How many?” “One.” Marcus's eyebrows rose. “Tonight?” “Yes.” Amber smiled. “Then you.” He stared. “Me?” “Yes.” “You've been involved in that part already.” “Not properly.” Marcus laughed. Amber turned toward him. “I mean it.” His amusement softened. Amber continued. “You've spent hours paying attention to me.” “I've enjoyed that.” “I know.” “And I have finished.” “Once.” Marcus looked at her. Amber's expression became very serious. “You made a stamina claim.” “Oh, for fuck's sake.” She started laughing. Marcus covered his face. Amber leaned into him. “Relax.” “You weaponized one joke into an orbital performance review.” “Yes.” “Terrifying woman.” “You like me.” Marcus looked through his fingers. “Unfortunately.” Amber kissed his cheek. “Good.” He groaned. She laughed harder. --- Nine began after the laughter faded. Amber moved first. No announcement. No counting aloud. She took Marcus's hand. Led him back to the bed. This time, when they reached it, she did not immediately climb on. She turned. Looked up. Marcus stopped. Amber touched his chest. “Last one tonight.” “You sure?” “Yes.” “Because you're tired?” Amber thought. “Partly.” Marcus waited. “And because I don't want to turn this into chasing ten because I once got ten.” His expression softened. Amber continued. “Tonight can be nine.” “Yes.” “And tomorrow can be whatever tomorrow is.” “Yes.” Amber smiled. “Look at us being sensible.” Marcus kissed her forehead. “Terrifying.” “Fuck you.” “Later?” Amber stared. Marcus smiled. “Sorry.” “No, you're not.” “No.” Amber kissed him. Then moved onto the bed. --- The ninth was the slowest. Amber wanted no novelty. No experiment. No playful challenge. Just Marcus. She settled into the position that had worked best throughout the day, lowering herself onto her forearms while Marcus came in behind her. He kept one hand at her side and waited without closing the last distance. Amber breathed. Checked herself. Everything felt tired. Warm. Ready enough. She looked back. “Yes.” Marcus began to enter her slowly. The first strong pressure made her hold still; he stopped with her. When it eased, Amber pushed back the smallest amount and felt a familiar thread of pleasure answer. Her shoulders dropped. “There.” He continued only when she nodded. When she wanted stillness, he stayed still. When she wanted a small change, she asked. When something felt slightly too much, she said so before it became a problem. Marcus adjusted. No frustration. No impatience. That, more than anything, made Amber relax. The ninth did not need to prove anything. She had already learned what she wanted. Already rediscovered how much she liked it. Already reached eight orgasms. This one belonged simply to the end of the day. The rhythm began slowly. Amber moved with it. Her breathing deepened. Marcus's hand found hers. She linked their fingers. That felt right. The pleasure took its time. Amber let it. Her eyes closed. The room became quiet except for breath. Movement. Occasional whispered checks. “Yes.” “Still?” “Yes.” “Slower?” “No.” “Here?” “Yes.” Simple. Enough. The pleasure gathered. Amber's tiredness changed its character. Instead of fighting arousal, it softened her into it. She stopped trying to control every movement. Trusted the rhythm. Trusted Marcus. The ninth climbed deeper than the others. Not harder. Deeper. Amber felt it spread through her slowly. Her fingers tightened around his. Marcus answered with a squeeze. She smiled. He could not see it. That was fine. “Marcus.” “Yes.” “I like you.” There was a pause. Amber laughed softly. “That wasn't the response I expected.” “I was deciding whether you were delirious.” She laughed harder. “Asshole.” “You picked me.” “Yes.” Amber's voice softened. “I did.” The words stayed there. Then the pleasure returned strongly enough to take language away. Amber's breathing changed. Marcus stayed steady. She held his hand. The ninth orgasm approached slowly. Amber knew it was coming. No surprise. No fight. She simply let it. Her whole body tightened gradually. The peak rose. Amber inhaled. Held. Then released the breath as pleasure moved through her. Long. Warm. Powerful without violence. Her grip on Marcus tightened. She made one quiet sound. Then another. The orgasm rolled through in steady waves. Marcus slowed. Amber nodded. Yes. Stay. He understood. The last wave arrived softer. Then faded. Amber remained still. Eyes closed. Breathing. Nothing else. Marcus did not move. The silence stretched. Amber eventually opened her eyes. Looked down at their joined hands. Then back at him. “Nine.” Marcus smiled. “Nine.” Amber exhaled. “That is enough.” “For tonight?” “Yes.” Marcus's expression softened. “Okay.” Amber stayed still another minute. Then carefully separated and rolled onto her back. Everything in her body seemed to exhale at once. She stared at the ceiling. Marcus lay beside her. Amber turned her head. He looked tired. Very. Satisfied too. But Amber remembered what she had said. Then you. She rolled onto her side. Marcus looked at her. “What?” Amber reached out. Touched his face. “My turn.” “Amber.” “No.” “No?” “No argument.” “You're exhausted.” “So are you.” “Yes.” She smiled. “Exactly.” Marcus looked at her. Amber's expression softened. “I want this.” He stopped arguing. That was enough. Amber kissed him. Slow. No hunger for another number. No attempt to restart the same pattern. This was different. Her attention stayed on Marcus. His breathing. His reactions. The way exhaustion had made him less guarded. Amber touched him carefully. Affectionately. Not performing. Not proving anything. Simply giving. Marcus tried once to redirect attention toward her. Amber caught his hand. “No.” His eyebrows rose. She smiled. “You've done enough.” “That's debatable.” “Not tonight.” Amber kissed him. “Let me.” Marcus looked at her for another second. Then relaxed. “Yes.” Amber smiled. “Good.” He groaned. She laughed softly. Then returned to him. The laughter faded. Touch replaced it. Amber watched him. She knew enough now to read the changes. The deepening breath. The loss of easy conversation. The way his hand tightened against hers. Amber stayed patient. Marcus had been patient with her all day. She could give him that much. More than that. She wanted to. His control began thinning. Amber saw it. Smiled. “Don't hold back.” Marcus breathed her name. “Amber.” “Yes.” She kissed him. Stayed close. Kept her attention entirely on him. No teasing now. No stamina jokes. Not when it mattered. Marcus's breath broke. Amber held him. Encouraged him quietly. Stayed with him until control finally disappeared. His climax arrived with a low sound against her shoulder. Amber wrapped both arms around him. Held him through it. Marcus's whole body tightened. Then gradually softened. His breathing remained uneven. Amber stroked his back. No joke. Not yet. They stayed there. Warm. Exhausted. Connected only by touch now. Marcus eventually lifted his head. Amber smiled. “There.” He laughed weakly. “There?” “Yes.” “Very technical.” “I've had a long day.” “So have I.” Amber kissed him. Gentle. “Happy?” Marcus looked at her. “Yes.” “Good.” He closed his eyes. Amber started laughing. “I am never going to stop doing that.” “I know.” --- The shower happened because neither of them wanted to sleep feeling like the entire day was still physically attached to them. Getting there took effort. Amber sat on the edge of the bed first. Stayed there. Marcus stood. Looked at her. Amber looked back. “What?” “Need help?” “No.” She stood. Paused. Marcus's eyebrows rose. Amber pointed. “Not one fucking word.” He held both hands up. Amber took three steps. “Okay.” Marcus smiled. She glared. “Still alive.” “Barely.” The shower was large enough for both. Palace ridiculousness occasionally had practical applications. Warm water began. Amber stepped under it and closed her eyes. “Oh, fuck.” Marcus came in behind her. “That good?” “Yes.” Water ran through her short blonde hair. Across shoulders. Down a body that had accumulated an extraordinary number of opinions during the day. Amber simply stood there for a while. Marcus did too. No sexuality left in the moment. Only warmth. Relief. Eventually Amber opened her eyes. Marcus handed her soap. She looked at it. Then at him. “No.” “No?” “You first.” Marcus smiled. Amber took the soap anyway. She washed him slowly. Not seductively. Tenderly. Shoulders. Back. Arms. Places her hands had already touched a hundred times today, now without hunger attached. Marcus relaxed under the attention. Amber liked that. “Turn.” He did. She continued. Careful. Thorough. When she finished, Marcus rinsed. Then took the soap from her. “Your turn.” Amber turned her back. His hands moved over her shoulders. Gentle. Amber's eyes closed. That might have been the best touch of the entire evening. Not because it caused pleasure. Because it asked nothing. Marcus washed her back. Arms. Sides. Amber lifted one arm when needed. Then the other. They moved around each other under the water with exhausted coordination. Occasionally bumping. Once Marcus nearly dropped the soap. Amber laughed. “Old.” “Floor's wet.” “Excuses.” He washed her hair carefully. Amber stood still. Short hair made the job quick. Marcus still took his time. His fingers moved through it. Amber's shoulders dropped. “You can keep doing that.” “For how long?” “Several hours.” “Standing?” Amber considered. “No.” Marcus laughed. They rinsed. Amber turned. Washed a missed line of soap from his shoulder with her thumb. Marcus looked at her. Amber smiled. No words. They kissed. Soft. Warm water around them. Nothing beginning. Nothing needing to. When they finally shut the shower off, the sudden quiet felt enormous. --- Getting dressed was rejected unanimously. They dried. Marcus found something for Amber to sleep in. It was far too large. Amber put it on anyway. The hem reached absurdly low. She stared down at herself. Marcus laughed. “Don't.” “You look…” “Choose wisely.” “Comfortable.” Amber narrowed her eyes. “Acceptable.” Marcus got into bed. Amber followed immediately. No debate about sides. She simply climbed against him. Marcus pulled the blanket over them. Amber tucked herself close. His arm settled around her. The room was darkened. Palace light reduced to a faint glow beyond the window. Amber's eyes were already closing. Marcus kissed her hair. “Good day?” Amber made a tired sound. “Yes.” “Worth the flight?” One eye opened. She looked up. “Ask me something difficult.” Marcus smiled. Amber's eye closed again. A few seconds passed. Then: “Marcus?” “Yes?” “I meant what I said.” “Which part?” Amber was too tired to be annoyed. “That I like you.” His arm tightened slightly around her. “I like you too.” “Good.” Marcus laughed quietly. Amber smiled. Then silence. No tenth. No heroic final effort. No challenge. Nine was enough. More than enough. Her last coherent thought was that tomorrow's breakfast needed to be enormous. Then sleep took both of them before either managed another word. --- ## Chapter 13 — Ten Amber woke hungry. Not metaphorically. Not sexually. Hungry enough that for several seconds the first coherent thought in her head was food. She opened her eyes. Morning light had changed the room. Marcus was still asleep beside her. Amber remained where she was, partly against him, one leg tangled with his beneath the blanket. Her body reported in. Tired. Pleasantly sore in several places. No actual pain. A strong argument against immediately doing anything ambitious. And hunger. A lot of hunger. Amber stared at the ceiling. Then whispered: “Food.” Marcus did not move. Amber looked at him. “Marcus.” Nothing. She poked his shoulder. One eye opened. “Emergency?” “Yes.” His other eye opened. Amber looked deeply serious. “Breakfast.” Marcus closed both eyes. “Cruel.” “I could die.” “You said that about your foot yesterday.” “That was different.” “How?” “This has eggs.” Marcus laughed without opening his eyes. Amber smiled. “Good. Conscious.” “Barely.” She pushed herself upright. That produced immediate feedback from her body. Amber stopped. Marcus opened one eye again. “Okay?” “Yes.” She waited another second. “Everything is simply filing reports.” “Complaints?” “Mostly observations.” Marcus smiled. Amber swung her legs over the side of the bed. Feet found the floor. She stood. Slowly. No attack from gravity this time. Progress. Marcus sat up behind her. Amber looked down. She was still wearing his oversized sleep shirt. The sight made her smile. “You're not getting this back.” Marcus looked at the shirt. “Apparently not.” “Compensation.” “For what?” Amber turned. “Nine.” Marcus stared. “That accounting system remains disturbing.” “Breakfast.” He laughed. “Yes.” --- Breakfast became excessive. Amber had intended normal food. Then she saw the menu. Marcus watched her add another item. “You're feeding four people.” “I burned calories.” “You're one forty-five.” “That is unrelated.” “You cannot possibly eat all that.” Amber looked at him. “Challenge accepted.” “I wasn't challenging you.” “Too late.” Coffee arrived first. Amber wrapped both hands around the cup. Closed her eyes. Drank. Marcus watched. She opened one eye. “What?” “I've seen religious experiences with less emotion.” “This is coffee.” “Yes.” “Exactly.” The first food arrived. Then more. Amber stopped talking. Marcus took that as evidence of severity. He ate too. For several minutes the only conversation involved passing things across the table. Amber stole something from his plate. Marcus objected. Amber informed him that orbital guest privilege remained legally binding. Marcus reminded her that she had invented it yesterday. Amber ate the evidence. By the time the plates began emptying, the world had improved substantially. Amber leaned back. “Oh.” Marcus looked at her. “What?” “Human again.” “Congratulations.” She took more coffee. Her body agreed with breakfast. Energy returned gradually. Not immediately. Warmth first. Then alertness. Then the faint sense that all her limbs once again belonged to the same person. Marcus noticed her expression changing. “No.” Amber smiled over the cup. “I haven't said anything.” “You're thinking.” “Yes.” “That worries me.” “It should.” Marcus shook his head. Amber laughed. But she did not move. Not yet. She finished the coffee. Waited. Let breakfast become breakfast rather than prelude. They talked. Ordinary things. Palace. Night City. A ridiculous story Marcus told about a maintenance failure several levels down that had apparently convinced half a residential block the station was rotating incorrectly. Amber laughed hard enough to almost choke on coffee. Marcus accused her of being unsympathetic. Amber informed him that incorrect rotational panic was inherently funny when experienced safely in retrospect. They argued for five minutes. That felt good too. Amber had not flown here solely for sex. She kept discovering proof of that. Eventually the table was cleared. Amber remained seated. Marcus looked at her. She looked back. The silence changed. Not dramatically. Enough. Marcus smiled faintly. “Recovered?” Amber considered. Really considered. She shifted slightly in the chair. Her body answered. Tired, yes. But rested. Fed. Warm. Interested. Amber smiled. “Yes.” Marcus leaned back. “You sound surprised.” “I am.” “You planned ten.” “I planned nothing.” “You were counting.” “That happened later.” Marcus laughed. Amber stood. No hesitation this time. She walked around the table and stopped in front of him. Marcus looked up. Amber placed both hands on his shoulders. “Nine yesterday.” “Yes.” “One left.” “For the sacred research?” Amber smiled. “No.” His expression shifted. “No?” Amber shook her head. “This one I want with you.” Marcus looked at her. She continued before the words could become larger than intended. “Not me getting another one while you manage everything.” Understanding arrived. Amber touched his face. “Together.” Marcus's hand settled against her waist. “You sure?” “Yes.” “And if your body disagrees?” “We stop.” “Even at nine?” Amber laughed softly. “Especially at nine.” Marcus smiled. “Okay.” Amber kissed him. Once. Then again. The second lasted longer. Breakfast had changed the morning. Sleep had too. Yesterday's frantic accumulation was gone. There was no unfinished hunger clawing for completion. Ten did not need to happen. That was exactly why Amber wanted it. She drew back. “Bedroom?” Marcus stood. Amber looked up. “Yes.” --- They did not begin immediately. Amber refused that without needing to say it. She removed the borrowed shirt first. Slowly. Marcus watched. Amber caught him. “Like it?” “Yes.” “The shirt?” “No.” She smiled. “Correct answer.” The shirt landed over the chair. Amber moved closer. Marcus touched her waist. She leaned into him. They kissed standing beside the bed. The morning felt cleaner somehow. Less heated. Not less intimate. The absence of urgency gave every choice more room. Amber touched Marcus's chest. Then his face. His hands moved over her back. When she wanted more, she moved closer. When he checked her with a look, she nodded. Yes. Still yes. They reached the bed without separating. Amber sat first. Marcus remained in front of her. She looked up. “Last one.” “For now.” Amber smiled. “Smart man.” He touched her hair. Amber leaned into the hand. “No targets after this.” “No.” “No eleven because ten was good.” “No.” “No proving anything.” Marcus smiled. “That one was going to be mine.” “Too slow.” Amber kissed his palm. “Ten because I want ten.” “Yes.” “And because I want you there with me.” His expression softened again. “I want that too.” Amber nodded. That settled it. She moved farther onto the bed. Marcus followed. They spent time becoming ready. Not pretending yesterday's experience meant her body required no patience today. Amber checked every change. Marcus listened. A position that had worked last night felt wrong this morning. Amber abandoned it immediately. They tried another. Better. She breathed. Adjusted. Marcus waited. Amber tested herself with a small movement. Nothing protested. Another. Better. She looked back. “This.” Marcus touched her hip. “Sure?” “Yes.” Amber settled on her side with one knee drawn forward and reached back for Marcus. He came close behind her, his hand covering hers at her waist. “Sure?” “Yes.” Marcus began to enter her slowly. Amber's body tightened at the first pressure and he stopped before she needed to ask. She breathed, waited, and let the reflex pass. “Again.” He followed her pace. The next small change brought intensity first, then a warm familiar pleasure underneath it. Amber closed her eyes and squeezed his hand. “Stay.” Marcus stayed exactly there. No movement. No impatience. Amber rested in the sensation until her breathing settled, then made the next small movement herself. Pleasure answered more clearly. Her shoulders dropped. “Okay.” Marcus waited. Amber smiled. “More.” He continued carefully, and Amber felt each small change. Her body remembered yesterday but did not surrender automatically to memory. It had its own answer this morning. Amber respected it. Pause. Breathe. Move. Stop. Adjust. Again. Marcus followed every instruction. Eventually the intensity softened enough for pleasure to appear underneath it. Amber recognized the transition immediately. Her smile appeared. “There.” Marcus's hand rested against her side. Amber covered it. “That?” “Yes.” She moved experimentally. Pleasure answered. Warm. Deep. Familiar now. Amber exhaled. “Okay.” Marcus waited. Amber looked back. “Now.” The rhythm began. Slow. Almost careful enough to feel ceremonial. Amber did not want ceremonial. She wanted connected. So she reached back. Found Marcus's hand. Pulled it forward. Their fingers linked. Better. She moved again. Marcus followed. The pleasure strengthened. No hurry. No need. Amber's breathing deepened. Morning light remained across the bed. She could see their joined hands. Liked that. The rhythm built gradually. Marcus stayed restrained. Amber could feel it. She looked back. “You're holding too much.” “Watching you.” “I know.” “Still good?” “Yes.” “Sure?” Amber smiled. “Yes.” She squeezed his hand. “Come with me.” Marcus's breathing changed. Amber felt it. That was what she wanted. Not ten happening to her. Something shared. She moved more deliberately. Marcus answered. The rhythm strengthened. Still controlled. Still hers to change. But now his pleasure entered the space too. Amber heard it in his breathing. Felt the increased tension in his hand. The way his movements became less purely careful and more responsive. She smiled. “Yes.” Marcus laughed softly. “What?” “That sounded like an instruction.” “It was.” “Of course.” Amber moved again. Pleasure surged. Her laughter vanished. “Oh.” Marcus immediately steadied. “That?” “Yes.” Amber closed her eyes. “Keep that.” He did. The path opened quickly now. Yesterday had taught her body too much. Breakfast had restored enough energy to use it. The pleasure climbed. Not as fast as some yesterday. Not as slow as the ninth. Exactly its own pace. Amber held Marcus's hand. Her other hand pressed into the bedding. The rhythm continued. Her breathing shortened. Marcus's did too. Amber heard it. That made her smile. “You're close.” “So are you.” “Yes.” Marcus slowed fractionally. Amber shook her head. “No.” “Too much?” “No.” She looked back. “Don't wait for me.” Marcus's eyes held hers. Amber squeezed his hand. “I don't want you waiting.” He understood. The rhythm returned. Slightly stronger. Amber's body answered immediately. Pleasure sharpened. She gasped. Marcus almost slowed again. Amber tightened her grip. “Stay.” He stayed. There. The tenth began approaching. Amber knew it. Not from counting. From the way everything narrowed. Her body drew tighter. Pleasure concentrated. Marcus's breathing had lost its measured quality now. Good. Amber wanted that. She moved with him. Matched him. The shared rhythm became less careful without becoming careless. Amber's eyes closed. “Marcus.” “Yes.” “Close.” “Me too.” Her smile flashed. Perfect. She pushed back into the next movement. Pleasure surged hard enough to steal her breath. Marcus's hand tightened around hers. Amber held on. Another movement. Another. Her body reached the edge. Marcus was there too. She could hear it. Feel it. Amber opened her eyes. Looked back at him. “Together.” The word barely existed. Marcus understood anyway. Neither changed the rhythm. That was what made it work. No sudden acceleration. No desperate race. Just staying exactly where pleasure had already brought them. Amber's climax broke first by perhaps a heartbeat. Her entire body tightened. Breath vanished. Marcus followed almost immediately. The shift in him reached her through every point of contact. Amber cried out. Not loud. Enough. Their joined hands locked tighter. The tenth orgasm rolled through her while Marcus reached his own peak within her. Not beside. Not afterward. Within. Amber felt the difference. Her body trembled. The pleasure came in deep pulses. Marcus slowed. Amber nodded. Yes. Stay. He stayed as close as possible while both climaxes softened. Neither moved beyond what was necessary. Their breathing filled the room. Amber's forehead dropped toward the bed. Her fingers remained locked with his. The last wave passed. Then stillness. Real stillness. Marcus did not immediately separate. Amber did not ask him to. For a long time they simply stayed. Connected. Breathing. Morning light. No number spoken. No joke. Amber's heartbeat gradually slowed. Marcus's thumb moved once across the back of her hand. Amber smiled. Not yet. Silence longer. Eventually she whispered: “Ten.” Marcus laughed softly. Not mocking. Tired. Satisfied. “Ten.” Amber turned her head enough to see him. “That one counts for both of us.” “Yes.” “Good.” Marcus closed his eyes briefly. Amber smiled. “I mean it.” “I know.” They remained still another minute. Then two. Only when Amber shifted did Marcus move. Carefully. They separated slowly. Amber rolled onto her back. Marcus lay beside her. She immediately moved toward him. Head against his shoulder. His arm around her. No blanket yet. Neither cared. Amber closed her eyes. The number felt complete now. Not conquered. Complete. That was different. She had wanted ten because ten had become part of the memory drawing her back. Now the new memory would not be ten orgasms. It would be nine yesterday. Breakfast. And one with Marcus in morning light. Amber smiled. Marcus noticed. “What?” She opened one eye. “That one I'm keeping.” “Which part?” “All of it.” Marcus kissed her forehead. Amber closed her eye again. “Good answer.” “Careful.” “Mine.” He laughed. Then silence returned. --- They stayed in bed a long time afterward. Neither slept. They simply refused to move. Amber listened to the station through the walls. Barely audible. Infrastructure. Life. Somewhere beyond the apartment, thousands of people were already busy with whatever their morning required. Amber had nothing required. That remained wonderful. Eventually she reached toward the bedside display. Marcus looked at her. “Work?” “No.” “Then what?” “Home.” The word settled softly. Marcus nodded. Amber opened travel options. Night City. Available departures. She did not book immediately. First she looked. Times. Connections. Arrival windows. Nothing urgent. She could stay another day. She knew that. The realization mattered. Leaving would be a choice too. Amber studied the options. Marcus remained beside her. No pressure either way. She found one that made sense. Not too early. Enough time. Enough room around the rest of the day. Amber selected it. Paused before confirmation. Marcus noticed. “You want to stay?” Amber looked at him. “Yes.” His expression softened. “But?” She smiled. “I want to go home too.” Marcus nodded. No offense. No disappointment performed into something larger. Amber appreciated him for that too. She confirmed the booking. Done. Return to Earth. Return to Night City. Return to Mai. Amber placed the display aside. Marcus looked at her. “When?” She told him. He nodded. “Plenty of time.” “Yes.” Amber smiled. Plenty. Her mind moved briefly toward the final thing she wanted before leaving. Not now. Not yet. That deserved its own decision. Its own moment. And the thought of Mai waiting at home gave it a delicious little edge Amber was not remotely ready to explain to Marcus. She smiled. Marcus saw it. His eyes narrowed. “That face.” Amber turned toward him. “What face?” “The dangerous one.” She kissed his cheek. “Later.” Marcus groaned. Amber laughed and settled against him again. For now, the return ticket existed. That was enough. There were still hours before she had to leave. And Amber intended to use them well. --- ## Chapter 14 — Outside Amber did not move for a long time after ten. Neither did Marcus. That was deliberate. Morning light lay across the bed. Their breathing gradually slowed. The last traces of pleasure softened into warmth. Amber remained tucked against Marcus with one hand resting over his chest. His fingers moved absently through her short blonde hair. No joke. No number. No next thing. Just quiet. Eventually Amber opened her eyes. Marcus looked down. “Hi.” She smiled. “Hi.” That one had survived the entire visit. Apparently it belonged to them now. Amber stretched carefully. Her body answered with a collection of small reminders. Nothing alarming. Enough that she stopped halfway and reconsidered the ambition. Marcus noticed. Amber pointed at him. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your face.” “My face is concerned.” “Your face is amused.” “Both.” Amber finished stretching with considerably more dignity than the first attempt. Then relaxed again. The return booking still existed on the display nearby. Night City waiting later. Not now. Amber looked toward the window. Then back at Marcus. “Breakfast.” His eyebrows rose. “Again?” “Real breakfast.” “That was real breakfast.” “That was survival food.” “You ordered half the menu.” “Yes.” Marcus stared. Amber smiled. “I want outside.” Understanding arrived. Not hunger alone. Out. Palace. Morning. Together. Marcus's expression softened. “I know somewhere.” “Good coffee?” “Yes.” Amber narrowed her eyes. “Careful.” He laughed. “Excellent coffee.” “Better.” --- Getting dressed took longer than either of them admitted. Not because clothing had become complicated. Because Amber kept finding reasons to stop. Marcus handed her one of her garments. She kissed him. Amber found one shoe. Marcus found the other. She kissed him again. Marcus tried to put on his shirt. Amber informed him he had missed a fastening. He had not. That still resulted in another kiss. Eventually Marcus stood fully dressed near the bedroom door. Amber was sitting on the edge of the bed adjusting one shoe. He looked at her. “You know we're leaving the apartment.” “I am aware.” “You've been putting that shoe on for two minutes.” “It has complex engineering.” “It has one fastening.” Amber looked up. “You're very critical this morning.” “Hungry.” “So am I.” “That was the original objective.” Amber finished the shoe. Stood. Then paused. Marcus noticed. This time his expression contained no amusement. “Okay?” Amber tested her weight. “Yeah.” Then took one step. Another. A faint stiffness. Manageable. Marcus waited. Amber walked past him. “Don't.” “I didn't.” “You were thinking it.” “What?” “Tiny careful steps.” Marcus bit the inside of his cheek. Amber stopped. Turned. “You bastard.” That ended his restraint. He laughed. Amber tried to glare. Failed. “Fine.” She took his hand. “Tiny careful steps.” Marcus squeezed her fingers. “Very dignified.” “Fuck you.” “Not before breakfast.” Amber laughed so hard she had to stop walking. “Oh, you absolute asshole.” Marcus looked pleased with himself. Amber pointed toward the door. “Outside. Now.” --- The Palace felt different in the morning. Amber knew intellectually that morning was partly an environmental decision here. The station did not care about Earth's sunrise. People did. So light shifted. Restaurants changed menus. Residential corridors developed the soft movement of people beginning whatever counted as a day in orbit. Amber walked beside Marcus. Hand in hand. That happened without discussion. She noticed it after several minutes. Looked down. Their joined hands moved between them. Then she looked up at Marcus. He caught her. “What?” “Nothing.” “That smile again.” “I like this.” Marcus looked at their hands. “So do I.” Simple. Amber squeezed his fingers. They kept walking. Nobody stared. Nobody cared that Amber O'Sullivan was walking through Crystal Palace holding hands with a man nearly sixty. Nobody knew she had crossed orbit for him. Nobody knew what the previous day had contained. The anonymity pleased her. The normality pleased her more. She looked around. People heading to work. People carrying bags. Someone walking a small dog whose existence on Crystal Palace still felt vaguely offensive to Amber's understanding of orbital logistics. She stopped. Marcus took another step before their linked hands stopped him. He turned. Amber pointed. “Dog.” Marcus followed the finger. “Yes.” “On Palace.” “Yes.” “That remains ridiculous.” “You've seen dogs here before.” “That doesn't make it less ridiculous.” Marcus looked at the animal. Then at Amber. “It lives here.” “I know.” “Probably thinks you're ridiculous.” Amber gasped. “Hostile dog.” Marcus laughed. They resumed walking. Amber looked back once. The dog ignored her completely. “Arrogant too.” “Terrible.” “Exactly.” --- Marcus's breakfast place was not impressive. Amber liked it immediately. It sat off one of the quieter residential promenades, far enough from the expensive tourist artery that nobody had apparently felt obligated to cover every surface in polished material. Tables. A counter. Windows looking onto a smaller internal plaza. People who seemed to be there because breakfast existed rather than because breakfast needed to become an experience. Amber looked around. “This is normal.” Marcus smiled. “Try not to sound disappointed.” “I'm delighted.” They took a table near the window. Marcus sat opposite her. Amber looked at the chair. Then at him. “What?” “Nothing.” She sat. Carefully. Marcus looked heroically at the menu. Amber narrowed her eyes. “I saw that.” “Saw what?” “Your survival instinct.” “It's excellent.” “Apparently.” Menus appeared. Amber read hers. Stopped. Marcus noticed. “No.” “I haven't said anything.” “You have a face.” Amber looked up. “They have breakfast potatoes.” “Yes.” “And eggs.” “Yes.” “And actual bread.” “Yes.” She stared. Marcus leaned back. “You discovered breakfast.” “This is serious.” “Clearly.” She ordered enough food that Marcus eventually interrupted. “Do you remember your size?” Amber looked at him. “Yes.” “Just checking.” “And I'm hungry.” “You've established that.” “And coffee.” “Already ordered.” Amber paused. “You ordered mine?” “Yes.” She smiled. “Dangerous confidence.” “I survived yesterday.” “Barely.” “True.” --- The coffee arrived. Amber took one sip. Closed her eyes. Marcus watched. She opened them again. “This is better than yours.” Marcus looked offended. “You drank mine yesterday.” “And I'm grateful.” “But?” “This is better.” “Betrayal.” Amber took another sip. “Yes.” Breakfast followed. Amber attacked it with enough enthusiasm that conversation briefly became impossible. Marcus ate more slowly. Amber noticed. Then stole one of his breakfast potatoes. Marcus stared. She ate it. “Why?” Amber pointed at his plate. “Yours looked better.” “They're identical.” “Unproven.” Marcus moved his plate slightly farther away. Amber's eyes narrowed. “Hostile action.” “Defensive perimeter.” “You know what I do professionally.” Marcus considered. Then moved it back. “Fair.” Amber stole another potato. “Wise.” He laughed. The meal slowed eventually. Amber leaned back with coffee. Much happier. Marcus looked through the window. Amber watched him for a moment. This was part of the trip too. She knew that now. Maybe she had known before. Just not clearly enough. She liked Marcus clothed. That seemed an absurd way to phrase it. Still true. Liked sitting across from him. Liked arguing about food. Liked watching his face change when something amused him. Liked that neither of them needed the bedroom to justify the visit. Amber sipped her coffee. Marcus looked back. “What?” She smiled. “I like you.” His expression softened. “So you've mentioned.” “I mean here.” “Breakfast?” “Yes.” “That seems like a low standard.” Amber kicked him lightly beneath the table. Marcus laughed. She continued. “This part.” He understood. The joking faded. “I like this too.” Amber nodded. Good. No need to add architecture to it. No labels. No promises they did not need. Just true. She looked toward the promenade. “I'll miss you.” Marcus was quiet for a moment. “I'll miss you too.” Amber looked back. “Enough to message?” “Yes.” “Enough to visit Night City?” Marcus smiled. “With more than twenty hours.” “Good.” She pointed her coffee at him. “And tell me next time.” “Yes.” “Because if I find out you were there again without telling me…” “What?” Amber considered. “Something terrible.” Marcus laughed. “Specific.” “I'll workshop it.” “Excellent.” --- After breakfast they walked. No destination for a while. Amber liked that too. The Palace had spent previous visits constantly offering things to do. Today she did not need one. Marcus knew the residential routes. The quieter levels. Places where the station looked less like the world's most expensive monument and more like somewhere people actually lived. Amber listened. Asked questions. Sometimes stopped to look through enormous windows. Earth remained distant. Night City invisible. Home nonetheless. Eventually she checked the time. Not yet. Still hours. Marcus noticed. “Thinking about the flight?” “A little.” “Regret booking it?” Amber considered. “No.” “Good.” She glanced up. Marcus smiled. Amber sighed. “You're never letting that die.” “No.” “Fair.” They kept walking. Her body had loosened with movement. The careful steps disappeared. Marcus never commented. Amber noticed that too. She squeezed his hand. “What?” “Nothing.” “You're becoming suspiciously affectionate.” “I had ten orgasms.” Marcus stopped. Amber took another step and was pulled gently back by their joined hands. She looked at him. Marcus stared. “What?” “In public?” Amber looked around. Nobody close enough to care. Then back at him. “Yes.” He closed his eyes briefly. Amber smiled. “Coward.” “Survival instinct.” “You knew exactly what you were getting into.” “No.” Amber laughed. “Yes, you did.” “Not this much.” “That sounds like a compliment.” “It probably is.” Amber stepped closer. Kissed his cheek. “There.” Marcus looked down at her. “What was that for?” “Nine yesterday.” His eyebrows rose. Amber kissed the other cheek. “And one today.” Marcus laughed. She smiled. Then rested briefly against his side. No urgency. Just affection. Eventually they resumed walking. --- They returned to Marcus's apartment without hurrying. The door closed behind them. Amber stood in the sitting area. Home away from home for one very short visit. Her bag waited where she had left it. That changed the room. Not much. Enough. Amber looked at it. Marcus saw. “Still time.” “I know.” She walked over. Opened the bag. Started putting things back into it. Not everything. Not yet. Marcus sat nearby. Did not help until she asked. Amber appreciated that. One item. Another. The jacket. She checked the departure time. Plenty. Transit estimate. Security margin. Enough. Amber closed the bag halfway. Not finished. Then sat beside Marcus. He looked at her. “Done?” “No.” “Why stop?” Amber smiled faintly. “Because finishing feels too final.” Marcus nodded. No reassurance. No false promise. Just understanding. Amber leaned into him. His arm went around her. They sat quietly. Time moved. She could feel it now. Not pressure exactly. Direction. Eventually she would stand. Finish the bag. Leave. Go down. Travel. Earth. Night City. Mai. The thought of Mai warmed her differently. Home. Amber smiled. Marcus noticed. “Maeve?” Amber turned. He knew her well enough. “Yes.” “Looking forward to seeing her?” “Very.” “No contradiction?” Amber smiled. “None.” Marcus nodded. “Good.” She stared. Then laughed. “You walked into that.” “I did.” Amber kissed him. Slow. Not because she wanted anything yet. Because departure had entered the room and she did not want to let it have every remaining minute. When they separated, she stayed close. Marcus's hand rested against her back. Amber looked at him. One final thing remained. She had known it since she booked the flight home. Had enjoyed keeping it to herself. A tiny plan. A slightly wicked one. A gift that was not really a gift until Mai understood it. Amber's smile changed. Marcus immediately narrowed his eyes. “No.” She laughed. “You don't even know.” “I know that face.” “You classify too many faces.” “That one is dangerous.” Amber moved closer. Her fingers traced the front of his shirt. Marcus watched. “What are you planning?” She looked up. “Nothing terrible.” “That is not reassuring.” “It shouldn't be.” Marcus sighed. Amber laughed softly. Then kissed him once. “Later.” He stared. “How much later?” Amber glanced toward the half-packed bag. Then toward the time. Plenty. She smiled. “Before I leave.” Marcus looked suspicious. Amber's smile widened. The surprise remained hers for a little while longer. --- ## Chapter 15 — Something for Maeve Amber stopped packing halfway through. Marcus noticed almost immediately. She had been kneeling beside the open bag, folding the last of her clothes with surprising competence, when her hands simply stopped. Marcus was sitting nearby. He watched her for several seconds. Amber knew he was watching. That was part of the problem. Or possibly part of the solution. She looked down at the shirt in her hands. Folded it. Placed it into the bag. Then sat back on her heels. Marcus waited. Amber looked at him. “What?” “That face.” She smiled. “We have discussed my face.” “That one is new.” “No, it isn't.” “It means you're planning something.” Amber's smile widened. Marcus sighed. “There.” “What?” “That.” She laughed. Then stood. Not quickly. Her body still contained an impressive collection of reminders from the last two days, and it had no interest in pretending otherwise. Marcus noticed the care in the movement. He did not comment. Amber appreciated that enough to walk directly toward him. She stopped between his knees. Marcus looked up. Amber rested her hands lightly on his shoulders. “You know I have to leave soon.” “Yes.” “I don't like that answer.” “Want me to lie?” “No.” Marcus touched her waist. Amber looked down at his hands. Then back at him. “I want one more thing before I go.” His eyebrows rose. Amber laughed. “Not eleven.” “Thank you for clarifying.” “That chapter is closed.” Marcus smiled. “Good.” Amber narrowed her eyes. “Careful.” He raised both hands slightly. “Sorry.” “No, you're not.” “No.” Amber smiled again. Then the humor softened. “I want you once more.” Marcus's expression changed with hers. No assumption. No immediate movement. Just attention. Amber continued. “Vaginally.” Marcus nodded once. “Okay.” “And this time…” She paused. Not because she was embarrassed. Because she enjoyed the anticipation. Marcus knew that. His eyes narrowed. Amber smiled. “I want you to come inside me.” Silence. Marcus looked at her carefully. Amber did not laugh. Not yet. “You want that specifically.” “Yes.” “Not because we're running out of time.” “No.” “Not because you think I want it.” “No.” Amber touched his face. “I want it.” Marcus's hand returned to her waist. “Why?” There. Amber's smile came back. Not broad. Dangerous. Delighted. “I want to take Maeve a surprise.” Marcus stared. Amber held his gaze. One second. Two. Understanding arrived. Slowly. His mouth twitched. Amber's eyes brightened. Then Marcus covered his face with one hand. Amber lost it. She laughed so hard she had to catch his shoulder. “Oh, come on.” Marcus lowered the hand. “You're serious.” “Completely.” “Maeve.” “Yes.” “Your wife.” “Yes.” “You want to go home carrying my contribution to her welcome-home experience.” Amber's laughter became helpless. “That is an extremely diplomatic way to say it.” “I am trying very hard.” “You're adorable.” “Don't.” She kissed his forehead. Marcus sighed. Amber settled closer between his knees. The laughter faded naturally. “She'll love it.” Marcus studied her. “You know that.” “Yes.” “No uncertainty.” Amber shook her head. “No.” That answer mattered. Marcus relaxed. Not dramatically. Enough that Amber noticed. She touched his cheek. “Maeve knows me.” “I've noticed.” “She knows what I like.” “Yes.” “She knows why I came here.” Marcus smiled faintly. “Yes.” “And she likes me coming home happy.” Amber's expression softened. “Very much.” Marcus held her gaze. Then nodded. “Okay.” Amber smiled. “There.” “There?” “That was the right answer.” “I suspected.” She leaned down and kissed him. Softly first. Marcus's hands settled at her waist. Amber stayed there. The kiss deepened without hurry. Nothing about it felt like restarting the day. This was different. The end of something. Not forever. Not even particularly long, if Amber had any say in it. But the end of this visit. That awareness made her slower. She kissed Marcus and let herself feel the sadness beneath the pleasure. Not enough to spoil anything. Enough to make it matter. When they separated, Marcus touched the back of her neck. Amber's breath caught. There. Still. Always. Her eyes closed. “You bastard.” Marcus smiled. “You'll miss that.” Amber opened her eyes. “I already did once.” The joke vanished from his face. Amber saw it. She leaned down and kissed him again. “Bedroom.” Marcus stood. Amber took his hand. “Bedroom.” --- The bag remained open. Half packed. Departure waiting outside the room. Amber left it there. Marcus followed her toward the bedroom. They did not hurry. That seemed important now. Amber stopped beside the bed and turned toward him. For a moment they simply looked at each other. She knew his face now in ways she had not before this visit. The expression he wore when amused. The one he wore while pretending not to be amused. The quiet attention when he was listening to her body rather than merely hearing her words. The tiny shift around his eyes when something she said reached farther than he expected. Amber touched the grey at his temple. Marcus smiled. “What?” “Nothing.” “That one is mine.” She laughed softly. “Yes.” Their clothes came away slowly. Not as a prelude to be hurried through. Part of the goodbye. Amber opened his shirt herself. Marcus helped her with hers only after she nodded. Amber opened the fastenings of Marcus's shirt and pushed it from his shoulders one sleeve at a time. He answered by easing her top upward; she lifted her arms, let the fabric clear her head, and pulled him back into a kiss before either reached for the next layer. They continued that way, trading small pieces of clothing for bare skin and touch until Amber finally stepped out of the last piece and stood close to him. No shoes this time. No performance. No Palace game. Just Amber. Marcus. A room she would leave soon. She put both hands against his chest. “Still want this?” Marcus's expression softened. “Yes.” Amber smiled. “So do I.” He kissed her. They moved toward the bed together. Amber sat first. Marcus remained standing in front of her. She looked up. His hand touched her face. Amber leaned into it. “Come here.” Marcus followed her onto the bed. They lay facing each other. No immediate goal. Marcus kissed her cheek. Her forehead. Her mouth. Amber traced his shoulder with her fingertips. Then his chest. The intimacy felt almost unbearably easy now. That was what she would miss. Not only the orgasms. Not even mostly the orgasms, though she would absolutely refuse to admit that under hostile questioning. This. Knowing where his hand would go. Knowing he would stop if she needed him to. Knowing he could make her laugh in the middle of something intense without destroying the intensity. Knowing he liked her enough to sit through breakfast while she stole food from his plate. Amber smiled. Marcus noticed. “What?” “I like you.” His mouth curved. “You've mentioned that.” “I'll mention it again.” “I like you too. More than I'm willing to admit openly.” “Good.” He closed his eyes. Amber started laughing. “Sorry.” “No, you're not.” “No.” She moved closer. Their bodies settled together. Warm. Familiar. Amber's leg slid around him. Marcus looked at her. She nodded. “Yes.” Still no rush. They took time to find comfort. Amber adjusted once. Then again. The second position felt right. She breathed. Marcus waited. Amber reached for his hand. Their fingers linked. That had become one of her favorite small things about him. “Ready?” Amber looked at him. “Yes.” The first contact made her body tighten slightly. Marcus stopped. Amber breathed. No problem. Just sensitivity. A lot of it. She smiled. Marcus waited. “Okay?” “Yes.” Amber shifted carefully. Let the sensation settle. Her body softened. “There.” Marcus stayed close. Still. Amber kissed him. Then whispered: “More.” Marcus entered her slowly. Amber's eyes closed at the first familiar pleasure. A soft sound escaped before she could turn it into a joke, and her hand tightened around his. “There.” He stopped long enough for her to feel him there, then continued only when Amber answered with a small movement of her own. One change, then a breath. Another, then her fingers tightening again while he watched her face. When they were fully joined, Marcus stopped once more. Amber remained beneath him. Breathing. Feeling. No movement yet. She opened her eyes. Marcus was close enough that she could see every small change in his expression. Amber smiled. “Hi.” He laughed quietly. “Hi.” She kissed him. Then moved. A small roll of her hips. Marcus answered. Amber did it again. The rhythm began there. Soft. Unhurried. Nothing to prove. Amber had already had ten orgasms. She did not need another. That freedom changed everything. She could simply enjoy him. The warmth of him. The movement. The intimate familiarity. Marcus's hand in hers. His mouth against hers. Amber let the pleasure exist without demanding escalation. It grew anyway. A gentle accumulation. Enough to make her breathing deepen. Enough that Marcus noticed. He slowed slightly. Amber shook her head. “No.” “Still good?” “Very.” She tightened her leg around him. “Don't worry about me finishing.” Marcus looked at her. Amber smiled. “This one isn't for the scoreboard.” “Thank God.” She laughed. “Coward.” “Alive.” Amber kissed him. The rhythm continued. She felt his restraint. More clearly than before. Marcus had spent most of the visit controlling himself around her needs. Listening. Waiting. Adjusting. Amber loved that. Now she wanted something else. She reached behind his neck. Drew him closer. “Marcus.” “Yes.” “Stop saving yourself.” His eyes held hers. “I’m watching you.” “I know.” “And you’ve had a lot.” “I know.” Amber kissed him once. Then again. “But I want you.” Something changed in his face. Amber continued. “I want to feel you stop thinking so much.” Marcus laughed softly. “That sounds dangerous.” “Good.” He gave her a look. Amber smiled. “Mine.” His next movement carried more of him. Not roughness. Not loss of care. Less restraint. Amber felt the difference immediately. Her breath caught. “Yes.” Marcus watched. Amber nodded. “Like that.” The rhythm strengthened. She moved with him. Not chasing her own climax. Meeting him. Encouraging. Marcus's breathing deepened. Amber felt satisfaction bloom in her chest. There. This was what she wanted. His pleasure becoming visible. His control requiring effort. The man who had spent two days reading her now giving her something to read in return. Amber touched his face. “Kiss me.” He did. The kiss lost neatness as the rhythm deepened. Amber smiled against his mouth. Marcus's hand tightened around hers. She felt him getting closer. Not yet. Soon. Her own pleasure had become a warm current underneath everything. Present. Welcome. Irrelevant to the goal. She looked at him. “You're close.” Marcus breathed out. “Yes.” Amber's pulse jumped. Not from her own approaching climax. Anticipation. The choice she had made. The little gift she wanted to carry home. She moved with him. Slow enough that nothing became frantic. Strong enough that he did not have to hold himself at a distance anymore. Marcus's breathing shortened. Amber wrapped both arms around him. “Tell me.” A few more movements. Then: “Close.” Her whole expression softened. “Okay.” Marcus began to slow. Amber immediately shook her head. “No.” He looked at her. She touched his cheek. “Don't pull away.” Marcus became completely still for a fraction of a second. Amber held his gaze. “I'm sure.” One last check. Not ritual. Not bureaucracy. Trust. “Yes?” Amber smiled. “Yes.” She drew him closer. “Inside me.” Marcus exhaled. Amber kissed him. “Come for me.” That broke the last of his restraint. He stayed within her. Amber held him close as his control gave way. His body tightened. His breath broke against her neck. She felt his climax through every place they touched. Marcus remained deep within her exactly as she had asked. Amber's arms tightened around him. No laughter. No joke. Not during this. She wanted the moment intact. His breathing came unevenly against her skin. Amber stroked the back of his head. Held him. Let him finish without making it about anything else. Eventually the tension left him. Slowly. He remained close. Amber closed her eyes. Satisfied. Warm. And deeply, privately delighted. The surprise existed now. Mai. The thought made the corner of Amber's mouth move. She tried to suppress it. Failed. Marcus felt the tiny laugh in her chest. He lifted his head. Amber looked innocent. Marcus stared. “No.” She bit her lip. “What?” “You're thinking about her already.” Amber lasted perhaps one second. Then burst out laughing. Marcus dropped his forehead against her shoulder. “I cannot believe you.” Amber wrapped her arms around him again. “Oh, yes you can.” “This entire visit has been evidence that I should know better.” Amber kissed his hair. “She is going to love this.” Marcus groaned. Amber laughed harder. Then softened. Her hand moved slowly along his back. “Thank you.” Marcus lifted his head. The humor faded. “For that?” “For all of it.” Amber touched his face. “The coffee.” He smiled. “The walks.” Her thumb traced his cheek. “Yesterday.” “Yes.” “This morning.” “Yes.” Amber looked at him. “And this.” Marcus kissed her palm. “I’m glad you came.” Amber's expression softened. “Me too.” They kissed. Slowly. Nothing beginning. Everything ending gently. When they finally separated, Marcus moved carefully. Amber felt the change and immediately rested a hand on his arm. “Slow.” He stopped. “Okay?” “Yes.” She breathed. “Just… slow.” Marcus nodded. They took their time. Amber stayed still afterward. Very still. Not uncomfortable. Deliberate. Marcus understood quickly enough that his face became suspicious. Amber looked at him. “What?” “You're preserving the surprise.” Her grin appeared. “I have no idea what you're talking about.” “Amber.” She started laughing again. Marcus shook his head. “You are impossible.” “Maeve likes me that way.” “I believe that completely.” Amber rolled onto her side beside him. Marcus followed. His arm went around her. They rested. Not long. Long enough. Amber did not want the goodbye contaminated by panic about departure. So when she finally checked the time, she still had room. Enough to dress carefully. Enough to finish packing. Enough for one real goodbye. She kissed Marcus's chest. “I need to go.” “I know.” This time she accepted the answer. --- Amber dressed carefully. No shower. Marcus understood why and wisely avoided further commentary. Her clothes went on one layer at a time. The physical shift from bedroom to traveler happened slowly. Underwear. Clothes. Shoes. Hair checked. Amber looked into the mirror. Still her. But different from the woman who had arrived. Not visibly. Internally. She smiled. Marcus appeared behind her. Not touching yet. Amber met his eyes in the reflection. “Worth it?” “Yes. Very much.” “Even the old man?” She turned. “Especially the old man.” Marcus laughed. Amber stepped close. Hugged him. No tease. His arms wrapped around her. Amber held on. Longer than she had expected. When she finally pulled back, Marcus touched the back of her neck. Her breath caught. One last involuntary little sound. Amber closed her eyes. “Asshole.” “You'll remember.” She opened them. “I didn't need help.” Marcus smiled. Amber kissed him. A goodbye this time. Long. Affectionate. No attempt to turn it into another beginning. When their mouths separated, Amber stayed close. “Message me.” “Yes.” “And if you come to Night City…” “I tell you.” “Before you arrive.” “Yes.” “Not twenty hours later.” “Yes.” Amber nodded. “Good.” Marcus smiled. She groaned. “Still yours?” “Forever.” Amber laughed. “That was dangerously sentimental.” “Don't tell anyone.” “Your reputation is safe.” She took her bag. Marcus walked her to the door. Amber stopped there. Turned back. For a second she simply looked at him. The apartment behind him. The place she had flown to without a plan beyond wanting him. She felt no regret. Only the ache of leaving something she liked. That was allowed. She stepped back toward him. One final hug. Then: “I'll come back.” Marcus did not turn it into a question. “I know.” Amber smiled against him. Good answer. When she finally stepped away, she took the bag properly. The door opened. Palace waited beyond. Marcus remained inside the threshold. Amber stepped into the corridor. Turned. “Marcus?” “Yes?” “I really fucking like you.” His smile warmed. “I really fucking like you too.” Amber nodded. Then looked down at herself. At the clothes hiding one very private souvenir. Her eyes lit. Marcus saw. “No.” She laughed. “Oh, yes.” He covered his face. Amber blew him a kiss. Then turned and walked away. Earth waited below. Night City waited farther still. Mai waited at home. And Amber had absolutely no intention of spoiling the surprise before she got there. --- ## Chapter 16 — Homebound Amber made it almost to the end of the corridor before looking back. Marcus's door was already closed. Good. That was probably better. If he had still been standing there, she might have walked back. Not because she regretted leaving. Because goodbyes had an irritating habit of becoming renewable when both people liked each other enough. Amber smiled. Then kept walking. The bag rested against her shoulder. Her body carried the last two days in a dozen small ways. Pleasant fatigue. A careful awareness of certain movements. The deep satisfaction that came from having wanted something badly, chosen it freely, and discovered that memory had actually understated the experience. And one very particular detail she intended to preserve all the way to Watson. That thought changed her smile. A passing man looked at her. Amber immediately rearranged her expression into something less incriminating. It lasted six seconds. Then she smiled again. Mai. This was going to be fun. --- The Palace transit system behaved. Amber found this suspicious. No delays. No route changes. No unexpected closure forcing her through three additional residential levels. Nothing. She sat by the window as the local transit carried her toward the departure sector. The Palace moved outside. District after district. Places she recognized. Places she did not. Somewhere behind her was the café. Marcus's apartment. The breakfast place. A bedroom that would now remain attached to a truly unreasonable collection of memories. Amber rested her head against the seat. She was tired. Happy. A little sad. All three could apparently coexist without forming a crisis. Interesting. Her agent remained quiet. For a while she let it. Then opened the private channel home. She looked at the empty message field. Considered. Typed. **On my way.** The reply came quickly. **Already?** Amber smiled. Mai. Not Maeve. Not here. Not in this channel. Home. **Yes.** A pause. **Good trip?** Amber looked out at the Palace. Thought about coffee. Marcus. Nine yesterday. Ten this morning. Breakfast outside. His hand in hers. The goodbye. The last request before leaving. Her smile became dangerous again. **Very.** Mai took longer this time. Then: **That “very” looks suspicious from here.** Amber laughed aloud. A woman two seats away glanced toward her. Amber ignored her. **You can't see my face.** **I don't need to.** Amber shook her head. Of course. She typed: **Landing later.** Then gave the time. Mai replied: **I'll be home.** Amber's expression softened. **Good.** The answer appeared immediately. **Mine.** Amber stared. Then laughed quietly. That word. Their stupid little battle over it had apparently survived orbital distance too. Amber typed: **Careful.** **Come home and stop me.** Amber looked at the message. Heat moved somewhere beneath all the fatigue. Not the kind Marcus created. Different. Mai. Home. Love attached to desire so thoroughly that separating the two had long ago stopped being useful. Amber smiled. **I love you.** The reply did not make her wait. **I love you too.** Then: **Come home to me.** Amber sat very still. The exact words from before she left. Only now they landed differently. She had gone. Wanted Marcus properly. Been greedy exactly as instructed. And now Mai wanted her back. Amber's fingers moved. **Always.** She sent it. Closed the channel. Then leaned back and let the transit carry her toward departure. --- Security was uneventful. Amber distrusted that too. Her documentation cleared. Her bag cleared. Amber O'Sullivan remained a perfectly respectable traveler returning to Earth after a private orbital visit. No system cared how many orgasms she had experienced during that visit. Civilization had occasional virtues. She found her departure gate. Sat. Crossed her legs. Immediately uncrossed them. “Right.” The woman beside her looked over. Amber smiled politely. “Long trip.” The woman nodded with the solemn understanding of someone who had apparently experienced travel before. Amber looked away before laughing. Her body was going to betray her in public all the way home. Wonderful. She bought water. Drank most of it. Then found food because yesterday had taught her something about pretending enthusiasm could replace calories. Mai would approve. That thought amused her enough that she opened the home channel again. **Eating before departure.** The reply took seconds. **Who are you and what have you done with Ace?** Amber stared. Then laughed. **Fuck you.** **There she is.** Amber grinned. **Marcus fed me.** Pause. Then: **Smart man.** Amber smiled more softly. No jealousy. Not even the shadow of it. Just Mai recognizing something good had happened to someone she loved. Amber almost told her then. Almost. Her thumb hovered. A little hint. One tiny clue. No. Absolutely not. The surprise deserved Mai's face. Amber locked the agent. Patience. Apparently she had learned some after all. --- Boarding began. Amber entered with the same bag she had brought up. Technically. It felt different now. The entire trip did. On the flight to Palace she had been composed almost entirely of anticipation. Now she felt full. Not merely sexually. Though, yes, spectacularly sexually. But emotionally too. The strange thing was how little conflict she felt. Marcus had not taken anything from Mai. Mai had not diminished anything about Marcus. There was no equation demanding balance. No invisible scale. Amber had loved Mai when she left Earth. Loved her throughout the entire visit. Loved Marcus differently enough that comparison became pointless. Then loved Mai harder the closer home came. Simple. She found her seat. Window again. Naturally. Buckled in. Checked the private channel once. No new message. Good. Mai knew when she would land. Amber knew Mai would be waiting. Nothing else required management. She looked through the window. Crystal Palace filled the view. Lights. Structure. Impossible scale. Somewhere inside it, Marcus was returning to his own day. Amber smiled. “See you.” Quiet enough that nobody heard. Then she settled back. --- Departure pushed her into the seat. The Palace began moving away. Or she did. Perspective made the distinction feel optional. Amber watched until the station became architecture again instead of a world. Then smaller. Then lights. Eventually Earth took over the window. Blue. White. Enormous. Home. Amber rested her head against the seat. Her eyes closed. Not sleep. Maybe close. Memories drifted. Marcus lifting her several centimeters from the ground because apparently being one forty-five remained public property. Coffee. The first touch at the back of her neck. His ridiculous confidence. The careful stillness every time she needed it. Laughing in bed. Breakfast potatoes stolen with absolute moral justification. The last hug. She smiled. Then Mai entered the thought. Waiting at the safehouse. Probably pretending not to wait. Maybe on the couch. Maybe working. Maybe standing up the instant the upper door opened and then denying she had listened for it. Amber knew her well. The thought warmed her. And then there was the surprise. Amber bit her lip. That one was getting harder not to think about. Mai would understand almost immediately. Maybe not exactly. Not until she discovered it. Then... Amber covered her mouth with one hand. The passenger across the aisle glanced at her. Amber turned toward the window. Professional traveler. Respectable company owner. Absolutely not imagining her wife's reaction to a deliberately transported intimate souvenir. She failed. A small laugh escaped anyway. --- Earth grew. The atmosphere returned color. Clouds. Land. Human geometry. Eventually Night City. Amber leaned toward the window. There. Ugly. Beautiful. Home in the way only places that had repeatedly tried to kill you could apparently become home. Her agent reconnected fully. One waiting message. Mai. **Landed yet?** Amber smiled. **Almost.** **I'm making coffee.** Amber stared. Then: **Marry me.** The answer took slightly longer. **Working on it.** Amber froze. Then laughed. Not because either of them knew how close that joke might someday come to reality. Because Maeve O'Sullivan would have found it perfectly ordinary, and Ace and Mai had spent enough time borrowing pieces of their cover marriage that the line could occasionally wander across contexts without either woman giving it much weight. Still. Amber typed: **Coffee first.** Mai replied: **Now you sound like Marcus.** Amber's eyebrows rose. **Take that back.** **No.** **Hostile household.** **Come home anyway.** Amber smiled. **On my way.** --- Landing. Disembarkation. Identity processing. Earthside security. All the small administrative gates between orbit and freedom. Amber moved through them patiently. Mostly. At the final clearance she nearly bounced on her heels. Stopped herself. Dignity. The doors opened. Night City air met her. Not clean. Not elegant. Real. Amber breathed it in. “Home.” The car was waiting. She climbed inside. Bag beside her. Sent one message. **Car.** Mai answered: **Door's ready.** Amber stared. A strange little ache formed beneath her ribs. She missed her. The visit had only lasted a short time. It did not matter. She missed Mai. Amber looked through the window as Night City moved past. Familiar roads. Familiar ugliness. The closer they came to Watson, the more Amber began falling away without any technology changing. Her hair remained short blonde. Her contacts remained blue. Her clothes remained Amber's. But the public posture loosened. The company owner. The Irish cover. The woman Palace knew. All of it became unnecessary layer by layer. Ace sat in the car beneath it. Going home. --- The vehicle stopped near the safehouse. Amber paid. Collected her bag. Stepped onto the street. The building looked exactly as unimpressive as it should. Dead commercial shell below. Home hidden above. Amber approached the first hardened door. Recognition. Locks disengaged. She entered. The door closed behind her. Street noise vanished. Secured stairway. Up. One step. Another. Amber smiled. Her body complained faintly. She ignored it. Almost home. At the top she reached the second hardened door. Did not knock. Did not need to. She knew somebody inside had already received the recognition signal. The locks moved. The door opened. Mai stood there. Amber stopped. So did Mai. For a moment neither spoke. Mai looked exactly like home. No Maeve. No public smile. No cover marriage. Mai. Amber's face changed. Every remaining piece of Palace composure disappeared at once. “Hi.” Mai smiled. “Hi.” Amber dropped the bag. Mai opened her arms. Ace walked into them. Hard. No hesitation. Mai caught her. Amber buried her face against her. The blue contacts did not matter. The blonde hair did not matter. Nothing did. Mai's arms tightened around her. Amber held on. Longer than expected. Long enough that the trip home finally ended. Mai kissed her hair. “Welcome home.” Amber closed her eyes. “Missed you.” “I know.” “You're supposed to say you missed me too.” Mai laughed softly. “I missed you too.” “Better.” Amber pulled back just enough to look up. Mai studied her face. Amber immediately became suspicious. “What?” “You look happy.” Amber smiled. “I am.” “Good.” Amber narrowed her eyes. Mai's smile widened. “Mine.” “You bitch.” Mai kissed her. The first kiss was soft. It did not remain that way. Amber's hands went behind Mai's neck. Mai's settled at her waist. Home became very small around them. The kiss deepened. Amber made a quiet sound. Mai immediately smiled against her mouth. Amber pulled back. “Do not.” “I said nothing.” “Your face.” Mai laughed. Amber kissed her again. When they finally separated, both were breathing differently. Mai touched the blonde hair. “Keeping this?” “Until the next wash.” “Mm.” Amber's smile became suspicious. Mai caught it instantly. “There it is.” “What?” “That face.” Amber stared. “You too?” “I know you.” Apparently the entire universe had joined the conspiracy. Amber stepped inside. The door closed behind her. Home. She bent to pick up the bag. Mai beat her to it. “I can carry that.” “I know.” Amber froze. Mai looked at her. Then laughed. “Oh, fuck off.” “Marcus said exactly that.” Mai's eyebrows rose. Amber started laughing. “Of course he did.” Mai lifted the bag. “Come on.” Amber followed her into the safehouse. One hand slipped into Mai's. Their fingers linked. Simple. Automatic. Amber looked down at them. Then up. Mai saw. “What?” Amber smiled. “Nothing.” They walked toward the bedroom. Halfway there, Amber stopped. Mai turned. “Problem?” “No.” Amber reached up and removed one blue contact. Blink. Then the other. She held them carefully. Mai watched. Ace looked back at her now through her own eyes. Still blonde. Still wearing Amber's clothes. But the room changed anyway. Mai's expression softened. “There you are.” Ace smiled. “Hi.” Mai put down the bag. Then kissed her. Slow. Ace leaned into it. No Palace. No Marcus. No Amber required anymore. Just Mai. Ace's arms went around her. When they separated, Ace stayed close. Very close. Mai looked at her. “You're tired.” “Yes.” “Happy.” “Yes.” “Hungry?” Ace considered. “Not for food.” Mai's eyebrows rose. Ace smiled. Not quite innocent. Mai's eyes narrowed. “That face again.” Ace laughed. Then reached for Mai's hand. “Come with me.” “Where?” Ace glanced toward the bedroom. Mai looked at her. Ace's smile became downright wicked. “I brought you something.” Silence. Mai slowly looked at her. Then toward the bag. Ace started laughing. “Not in the bag.” Mai looked back. Her expression changed. Just slightly. Ace saw the exact moment curiosity became suspicion. “Oh,” Mai said. Ace's grin widened. “Oh?” Mai stepped closer. Ace did not retreat. “What did you do?” Ace slipped both arms around Mai's waist. “Something you're going to like.” Mai stared down at her. Ace rose onto her toes. Kissed her once. Then whispered against her mouth: “Welcome me home properly and find out.” Mai went very still. Ace smiled. And the surprise survived for approximately one more minute. --- ## Chapter 17 — Welcome Home Mai did not ask again what Ace had brought home. She intended to find out. That became obvious in the way she looked at her. Ace saw the change. Curiosity first. Then understanding beginning somewhere behind Mai's eyes. Then something warmer. Ace's grin widened. “Come on.” Mai took her hand. Ace led her toward the bedroom. Not quickly. She could not have managed quickly even if she wanted to. Her body still carried the Palace in quiet little reminders. Mai noticed. Of course she did. She adjusted her pace without saying anything. Ace noticed that too. That almost made her stop and kiss her in the corridor. Almost. Instead she kept walking. Bedroom. Door closed. Home. Ace turned. Mai stood in front of her. For several seconds, neither moved. The difference from Marcus's room struck Ace immediately. There, she had been Amber. Not false. Never false. But a public life. A chosen identity. A woman who could fly to orbit because she wanted an old lover and come back with an outrageous smile. Here, Mai knew every layer beneath that. There was nowhere to perform. Ace liked that. She stepped closer. Mai touched the short blonde hair. “Still Amber up here.” “Until I wash it.” Mai's fingers moved through it. Ace closed her eyes briefly. “But not here.” Mai touched her cheek. Ace opened her eyes. “No.” Mai kissed her. Soft. Ace melted into it immediately. Not because she was weak. Because she was home. Her arms went around Mai. Mai's hands settled at her waist. Their kiss deepened slowly. Ace made no attempt to rush it. She had spent two days having exactly what she wanted. Now she wanted this. Mai. The familiar shape of her. The way she touched Ace with no need to ask where the edges were because she already knew them. The way Ace could feel love inside desire before anything else had even happened. Mai broke the kiss. Ace stayed close. Very close. Mai looked down. Then back at her. “That surprise.” Ace's expression became unbearably pleased. “Yes.” Mai's eyes narrowed. “Marcus?” “Yes.” “Recent?” Ace started laughing. “Oh, very.” Mai stared. Ace saw the exact second the rest connected. The last encounter. The lack of shower. The way Ace had arrived. The grin. Mai looked down again. Then up. “Hun.” Ace bit her lip. “Yes?” “You planned this.” “Yes.” Mai closed her eyes briefly. Ace leaned closer. “He thought I was insane.” Mai opened them. “He's not wrong.” “Rude.” “You crossed orbit for ten orgasms and came home carrying dessert.” Ace made a strangled sound. Then laughed so hard she had to hold Mai for balance. “You bitch.” Mai smiled. Ace wiped at one eye. “That was terrible.” “Yes.” “I love you.” “I know.” Ace kissed her. Then whispered: “You're going to love this too.” Mai's expression changed. No joke now. Ace knew that look. Wanted it. She reached for Mai's hands. Guided them to her. “Find out.” Mai kissed her again. Slower. Longer. Then began moving downward. Ace's breath caught. Not because she did not know what was coming. Because she did. And because this had been the plan from the moment she asked Marcus for that final thing. Mai knelt between her legs. Ace looked down and found Mai already watching her. Mai smiled. Ace's fingers moved into her hair. “Yes.” Mai kissed her first, slowly enough that Ace felt the anticipation become its own kind of warmth. Then Mai lowered her mouth to her. The first warm contact pulled a broken breath from Ace and made her fingers tighten gently in Mai's hair. Mai stayed there just long enough for Ace to relax into the sensation before continuing. But Mai's attention was not only on Ace's pleasure. She knew what she was looking for. Ace saw recognition move through her expression when she found the taste Marcus had left behind. Mai paused. Ace watched. Mai looked up. Ace's grin became helpless. “Well?” Mai's eyes warmed. “Oh, you unbelievable little menace.” Ace laughed. “That means yes.” Mai returned to her. Deliberately. No hesitation. No discomfort. She tasted what Ace had brought her and made absolutely no secret of enjoying the fact that Ace had thought of her while still in Marcus's bed. That knowledge hit Ace almost harder than the sensation itself. Mai. Marcus. The strange, generous geometry of their life. Nothing stolen. Nothing competing. Pleasure carried home and turned into something new. Ace's fingers tightened gently in Mai's hair. “Oh, fuck.” Mai looked up once more. Ace laughed breathlessly. “You like it.” Mai's expression answered before her mouth could. Very much. Ace's eyes closed. The warmth built. Mai took her time. Ace let her. No count. No Palace score. No comparison to anything that had happened in orbit. This was home. Different rules. Different meaning. When pleasure finally rose high enough to steal Ace's voice, Mai stayed with her through it. Ace trembled. Held on. Let the sensation break through without trying to turn it into anything grander than it was. The first welcome-home orgasm rolled through her softly. Deeply. Ace breathed Mai's name. Not Amber. Not Maeve. Mai. Mai stayed close until Ace's body softened. Only then did she rise. Ace immediately pulled her into a kiss. The taste surprised her. Not because she had forgotten what she had brought home. Because the reality of it was somehow more intimate than the idea had been. Ace laughed softly against Mai's mouth. “There.” Mai's arms went around her. “You are ridiculous.” “You loved it.” Mai kissed her again. “Yes.” Ace smiled. “Good.” Mai groaned. Ace laughed. Then the humor softened. Their foreheads touched. Ace whispered: “I missed you.” Mai's expression changed. “I know.” “I mean it.” “So do I.” Ace touched her face. “I had a wonderful time.” “I know.” “With Marcus.” “I know.” “And I still missed you.” Mai kissed her palm. “I know that too.” Ace smiled. There was nothing defensive in either of them. No need to repair anything. Nothing had broken. Ace moved closer. “I want you.” Mai's eyes warmed. “Now?” “Yes.” “You're tired.” “Yes.” “Your body has had a lot.” Ace smiled faintly. “Yes.” Mai waited. Ace reached for her. “But I want you gently.” That was enough. Mai kissed her. Slow. Ace leaned into her. Mai loosened Ace's top and waited until Ace lifted her arms before drawing it away. Ace caught the hem of Mai's shirt in return, tugged it upward, and stopped halfway because kissing her suddenly mattered more. They finished undressing in the same unhurried exchange, each new patch of bare skin earning touch before either reached for the next fastening. By the time the last clothing had been set aside, their hands had already learned what two days away had changed and what had remained exactly the same. When they reached the bed, Ace climbed in first. Mai followed. Ace lay on her side. Mai beside her. They kissed. No hunger for numbers. No attempt to recreate Palace. Ace simply wanted the person who knew her before Amber, beneath Amber, through Amber. Mai's hand moved along her back. Ace relaxed under it. “Here.” Mai stayed there. Ace moved closer. Their bodies aligned. The next step was not rushed. Mai looked at her. Ace nodded. “Yes.” They found the position together. Ace adjusted once. Then again. Mai waited. Ace breathed. “Okay.” Mai moved closer. Ace felt the first intimate pressure and tightened instinctively. Mai stopped. Ace smiled. “Still sensitive.” “Want to stop?” “No.” “Slower?” “Yes.” Mai kissed her. Ace breathed. The tension eased. She moved slightly herself and drew Mai closer. “Yes. Now.” The first clear joining pulled a low, almost relieved sound from Ace. Her eyes closed and one hand slid behind Mai's neck, keeping her close while familiar pleasure spread through the tired sensitivity. “There.” Home in another language. Mai continued in small stages, stopping whenever Ace's breathing changed until they were fully together. Then she stayed still. Ace remained still. Breathing. Feeling the difference. Marcus had been wonderful. This was Mai. No comparison could survive long enough to become useful. Ace opened her eyes. Mai was watching her. “Hi.” Mai smiled. “Hi.” Ace laughed softly. Then kissed her. She moved first. Small. Mai answered. Another. The rhythm began. Slow enough that Ace could feel every part of it. Gentle enough that her tired body never needed to fight. Mai's hand moved behind her neck. Ace melted. She laughed quietly. “What?” “Apparently everyone has learned that.” Mai smiled. “I knew first.” “True.” Ace kissed her. The rhythm continued. Pleasure came easily but without urgency. Ace did not need to climax. Did not care whether she did. She wanted closeness. Mai's breath against her. Mai's hand in hers. Mai looking at her like there was nowhere else she needed to be. Ace's eyes closed. “I love you.” Mai's answer came immediately. “I love you too.” The rhythm deepened slightly. Ace moved with her. Not chasing. Just sharing. The pleasure gradually sharpened anyway. Ace laughed once. Mai slowed. “Okay?” “Yes.” Ace smiled. “Apparently my body has opinions.” “It usually does.” “Rude.” Mai kissed her forehead. Ace pulled her closer. “Stay.” Mai stayed. The pleasure continued rising. Not fast. Warm. Tender. Ace let it. Her fingers tightened around Mai's. Their breathing gradually became less even. Ace opened her eyes. Mai was close. Not merely physically. Emotionally. Everything written plainly across her face. Ace reached up and touched her cheek. “Together?” Mai smiled. “Yes.” No need to rush. They stayed with the same rhythm. Ace felt her own climax approaching. Gentle. Inevitable. Mai's breathing changed. Ace heard it. Smiled. There. The pleasure rose. Ace held Mai's gaze until she could not anymore. Her eyes closed. Her body tightened. Mai moved with her. The climax came softly. A long warm wave. Ace's breath broke. Mai followed close enough that the distinction hardly mattered. They held each other through it. No dramatic peak. No sharp ending. Just pleasure rolling through both of them until movement gradually stopped. Then stillness. Ace did not let go. Mai did not either. They stayed joined for a while. Breathing. Foreheads touching. Nothing else required. Eventually they separated carefully. Ace immediately curled against Mai. Mai pulled the blanket over them. Ace tucked herself under her chin. Home. Really home. No public identity. No clients. No Palace. No schedules. Ace closed her eyes. Mai's fingers moved through her still-blonde hair. Ace smiled. Several minutes passed. Maybe more. Her body became heavy. Warm. Satisfied beyond reason. Then one thought finally surfaced. Ace opened one eye. “Where's Shammy?” Mai laughed softly. Ace lifted her head. “What?” “I was wondering when you'd notice.” Ace looked around the bedroom as though Shammy might have somehow hidden behind a pillow for the entire reunion. “She wasn't in the common room.” “No.” “Studio?” Mai smiled. “No.” Ace's eyebrows rose. “Okay.” Mai's smile became suspicious. Ace narrowed her eyes. “What happened?” “Someone contacted Sera.” Ace waited. “Client?” “Yes.” “What kind?” Mai began laughing before answering. “A very rich one.” Ace groaned. “That means nothing anymore.” “Apparently rich enough to make Sera stop what she was doing and read the offer twice.” Ace's eyebrows climbed. “That rich.” “Yes.” “What did she want?” “Dinner.” Ace waited. Mai continued. “And sex.” Ace stared. Then: “That's it?” “Apparently.” “How much?” Mai told her. Ace went completely silent. Then: “What the fuck?” Mai laughed. “I know.” Ace pushed herself up onto one elbow. “For dinner and sex?” “Yes.” “With Sera?” “Yes.” Ace thought. Then slowly smiled. “Did Shammy like her?” Mai's expression softened. “That was apparently the deciding factor.” Ace settled slightly. “Oh?” “Sera had already met her.” Ace became interested. “And?” “She liked her.” “Physically?” “Yes.” Ace smiled. “Smart woman.” Mai continued. “And apparently she understood her art.” Ace stopped. Then slowly lay back down. “Oh.” Mai smiled. Ace nodded gravely. “Okay.” “Okay?” “Dinner, sex, stupid money, attractive client…” She raised one finger. “And understands art.” Mai laughed. Ace nodded again. “Entirely justified.” “I thought you'd approve.” “I'm offended she didn't send me a message.” “She did.” Ace froze. Mai smiled. “When?” “While you were in transit.” Ace stared. Mai reached toward the bedside table, found her agent and opened the message. She handed it over. Ace read. **Shammy:** Sera has been offered an absurd amount of money for dinner and sex. Then: **Shammy:** I like her. Then: **Shammy:** She understands my work. Then, several seconds later: **Shammy:** I am going. Ace stared. Mai started laughing. Ace read it again. “That is…” She searched. “Extremely Shammy.” “Yes.” Ace handed the agent back. Then thought. “Did you answer?” Mai smiled. “I told her to have fun.” Ace looked offended. “That's my line.” “You were busy crossing an atmosphere.” “Technicality.” Mai kissed her forehead. Ace settled against her again. A sleepy smile appeared. “So Shammy's out getting paid a stupid amount to have dinner with a woman she likes and then fuck her.” “Yes.” “And she likes her because she's hot.” “Partly.” “And because she understands art.” “Yes.” Ace closed her eyes. “That last part is absolutely why she's not home.” Mai laughed quietly. “Probably.” Ace smiled. “Good for her.” Mai's hand moved gently along her back. “Good for you too?” Ace opened one eye. Looked up. Then smiled. “Very.” Mai kissed her. Soft. Ace closed her eye again. Somewhere in Night City, Shammy was having a very profitable evening with someone who could apparently discuss art intelligently enough to earn immediate access to the interesting half of her personality. Ace approved. Mostly. Tomorrow she intended to demand details. Tonight, she had Mai. That was enough. More than enough. Ace moved closer. Mai's arms tightened around her. “Sleep?” Ace made a quiet sound of agreement. Then, after several seconds: “Mai?” “Yes?” Ace smiled without opening her eyes. “Best fucking trip.” Mai laughed softly. “I noticed.” Ace kissed the nearest piece of her she could reach. Then settled. Home held her. And this time, nothing else needed to happen. --- ## Epilogue — Ten The safehouse door opened late. Ace was awake. Barely. She was curled into the corner of the couch beneath a blanket, one leg across Mai's lap, a mug of coffee balanced dangerously near the edge of the table. Mai was reading something on her agent. Ace had been pretending to watch the news. Neither activity involved much concentration. The upper door opened. Footsteps. Ace looked up. Mai looked up. Shammy appeared. Stopped. Ace stared. Mai stared. Shammy looked at both of them. Silence. Ace slowly lowered the mug. “Well.” Shammy's silver-white hair was not quite behaving. Her clothes were intact. Technically. Her makeup had survived approximately eighty percent of whatever evening had happened. More importantly, Shammy herself wore the unmistakable expression of a woman who had recently discovered that excellent conversation, excellent sex and absurd money could, in fact, occupy the same appointment. Ace's eyebrows climbed. Mai covered her mouth. Shammy narrowed her eyes. “No.” Ace smiled. “I haven't said anything.” “Your face.” Mai lost the fight first. She laughed. Shammy pointed at her. “You're supposed to be neutral.” “I live here.” “That is not neutrality.” Ace pulled the blanket higher. “So.” Shammy sighed. “So.” “Dinner?” “Yes.” “Good?” “Very.” Ace nodded. “Conversation?” Shammy's expression changed. That answered more than the word would have. Ace grinned. “Oh.” Shammy tried to remove her shoes without reacting. Ace watched. Mai watched Ace watching. Ace continued. “She really understood the art.” Shammy stopped. Slowly looked over. “Yes.” Ace's grin widened. Mai's shoulders started shaking. Shammy pointed at Ace. “Do not make that sound dirty.” “I didn't.” “You absolutely did.” Ace looked innocent. “Art appreciation is beautiful.” “You are horrible.” “And yet correct.” Shammy finally got one shoe off. Then the other. She stood barefoot in the common room and exhaled. Ace studied her. The slow movements. The satisfied smile Shammy clearly thought she had hidden. The slight stiffness when she bent to pick up one shoe. Ace's eyes narrowed. “Oh, you had a good night.” Shammy straightened. “So did you.” Ace froze. Mai's head came up. Shammy saw both reactions. Her smile became dangerous. There it was. The mistake. The terrible, irreversible mistake. Ace slowly set down the coffee. “Excuse me?” Shammy walked toward the couch. “You flew to Crystal Palace for Marcus.” “Yes.” “You came home looking like gravity had personally offended you.” Mai made a strangled sound. Ace pointed at her. “Do not encourage her.” Shammy continued. “You walked through the safehouse like your legs were negotiating a labor agreement.” Mai lost it completely. Ace stared at her. “Betrayal.” Mai laughed into one hand. Shammy smiled. “And then you disappeared into the bedroom with Mai.” Ace folded her arms. “Yes.” Shammy leaned against the back of the couch. “So.” Ace waited. Shammy waited. Mai looked between them. Then Shammy delivered it. “Was Marcus worth the flight?” Ace stared. Shammy smiled sweetly. Mai whispered: “Oh, no.” Ace turned toward her. “What?” Mai shook her head. “Nothing.” Ace looked back at Shammy. The room became very quiet. Shammy remained completely unaware of the magnitude of the artillery shell she had just loaded herself into. Ace smiled. Slowly. “Yes.” Shammy's eyes narrowed. Ace leaned back into the couch. “Very.” Mai closed her eyes. Shammy noticed. “What?” Ace lifted one finger. “Ten.” Silence. Shammy blinked. “Ten what?” Ace's smile became radiant. Mai buried her face in both hands. Shammy looked from one to the other. Then understanding arrived. Her mouth opened. Ace nodded. “Ten.” Shammy stared. Ace took another sip of coffee. The casualness made it worse. Shammy finally found her voice. “You did not.” “Oh, I absolutely did.” “Ten?” “Yes.” “With Marcus?” “Yes.” Shammy stared harder. Ace raised another finger. “And before you ask, yes.” “Yes what?” Ace smiled pleasantly. “The thing you're wondering.” Shammy froze. Mai made a helpless noise behind her hands. Ace continued drinking coffee. Shammy slowly sat down. Not on the couch. On the floor. Right there. Ace looked down at her. “You okay?” Shammy stared at nothing. “Ten.” “Yes.” “Anal.” Ace nodded. “Yap.” Mai looked at the ceiling. Shammy turned toward her. “You knew?” Mai lowered her hands. “I knew the plan.” “The plan was ten?” Mai looked at Ace. Ace shrugged. “It evolved.” Shammy stared at her. “Evolved.” “Yes.” “You crossed orbit and evolved into ten anal orgasms.” Ace considered. “That's a fair summary.” Shammy made a sound somewhere between laughter and despair. Ace smiled. “You started this.” “I asked whether Marcus was worth the flight.” “And I answered.” “With artillery.” “Accuracy matters.” Mai finally recovered enough to breathe properly. Shammy pointed at Ace. “You are never allowed to make fun of me again.” Ace's eyebrows rose. “Why?” Shammy gestured at herself. “One client.” Ace nodded. “One dinner.” “Yes.” “One night.” “Yes.” “One extremely satisfied artist.” Shammy's eyes narrowed. “Yes.” Ace leaned forward. “Ten.” Mai collapsed sideways laughing. Shammy stared at Ace. Then at Mai. Then back. “That is not a normal counterargument.” “It is numerically devastating.” “You tiny bitch.” Ace's grin became enormous. “Love you too.” Shammy tried to glare. Failed. Started laughing. That finished all three of them. For nearly a minute the common room contained nothing useful. Mai half folded over the arm of the couch. Shammy sitting on the floor. Ace clutching the blanket because laughing hurt muscles that had already submitted extensive paperwork. Eventually Shammy wiped at her eyes. “Fuck.” Ace breathed. “Yes.” Shammy pointed. “No.” Ace laughed again. Mai groaned. “Both of you stop.” Neither did. Eventually the room settled. Mostly. Shammy leaned back against the couch. Ace looked down at her. “So.” Shammy sighed. “So.” “Would you see her again?” The answer came without hesitation. “Yes.” Ace smiled. “Good.” Shammy glanced up. “She was…” She paused. Ace waited. Mai did too. Shammy looked toward nothing for a second. “Interesting.” Ace's teasing softened. “That's high praise from you.” “Yes.” “And the art?” Shammy smiled. “She didn't pretend.” That mattered. Ace knew it immediately. “She actually understood?” “Yes.” “Not client-flattering-you understood.” “No.” Shammy's expression warmed. “She asked questions I hadn't expected.” Ace nodded. There. That was Shammy. Sex could get her attention. Beauty could certainly get her attention. But understanding her work? That reached somewhere else. Ace reached down. Touched Shammy's shoulder. “Then definitely see her again.” Shammy looked up. “Even without the stupid money?” Ace smiled. “Especially if you'd go without the stupid money.” Shammy's expression softened. Mai reached down from the other side and touched her hair. For a moment the room became quiet. Three women. Home. Three separate evenings somehow folded back into the same safehouse. Then Shammy looked at Ace. The dangerous smile returned. “So Marcus really managed ten.” Ace immediately withdrew her hand. “No.” Shammy laughed. Ace pointed at her. “Do not reopen the war.” “I only asked.” “Hostile act.” “Ten.” Ace narrowed her eyes. Shammy smiled. “Tiny careful steps?” Mai made a strangled sound. Ace's entire face changed. Shammy realized too late. “Oh, fuck.” Ace sat forward. “You want to do this?” Shammy backed away on the floor. “No.” “You sure?” “Yes.” Ace smiled sweetly. “Because I have details.” Shammy scrambled to her feet. “No.” Mai was laughing too hard to intervene. Ace stood. Shammy immediately retreated toward the corridor. “Ace.” “Shammy.” “Good night.” “Coward.” “Ten-orgasm orbital goblin.” Ace gasped. Mai stopped laughing. Very briefly. Then exploded again. Shammy ran. Ace stared after her. “BITCH.” From the corridor: “LOVE YOU.” Ace looked at Mai. Mai was useless. Completely useless. Ace folded her arms. “She started it.” Mai nodded helplessly. “Yes.” “I won.” Mai tried to breathe. “Yes.” “Numerically.” That destroyed her again. Ace smiled. Victory. From deeper in the safehouse came Shammy's voice: “GOOD NIGHT, TEN.” Ace's eyes widened. She turned toward the corridor. “SHAMMY.” A door closed. Silence. Ace looked at Mai. Mai looked at Ace. Then Mai opened her arms. Ace climbed into her lap immediately. Mai wrapped both arms around her. Ace muttered into her shoulder: “She is impossible.” Mai kissed her hair. “So are you.” Ace considered. “Fair.” Mai smiled. Ace settled. The safehouse became quiet again. Somewhere down the corridor, Shammy was probably still smiling. Ace was home. Mai held her. Marcus remained a very good memory and a future temptation. Sera had apparently discovered that being understood could be more seductive than being admired. And the next morning would almost certainly contain an unbearable amount of breakfast-table commentary. Ace closed her eyes. Mai kissed her forehead. “Ten.” Ace opened one eye. “You too?” Mai smiled. Ace groaned. Then laughed. Home.