Previously:
HMS Andromeda, Mothership Class Spacecraft, Milky Way Galaxy, February 2119
"Shall we say your quarters after dinner?" she suggested.
"Why don't you come over earlier and we can eat together?" he offered.
"No," she replied immediately. "This isn't a date. It's break-up sex. Nothing more."
He frowned. "Very well. I'll see you after dinner."
She collected her tablet and rose from her chair. He stood up as well.
"Until then," she nodded. "Try not to eat too much. This will be the last time we ever fuck, so you'll need to be in form."
She turned away and headed for the door.
He ogled her ass as her hips shifted back and forth, then hated himself for doing that.
The door shut behind her once she left.
"Well, this is it," he mumbled to himself before heading back to his suite.
Chapter 7:
HMS Andromeda, Mothership Class Spacecraft, Milky Way Galaxy, February 2119
"You're certainly going to quite a lot of effort for break-up sex," Sybil noted, smiling wryly and sipping her wine. "That's the fifth outfit you've tried on already."
"And we're going to need a sixth," Mary replied drily, frowning at her reflection in the mirror before unzipping her dress. "This is far too frumpy."
"What does it matter? It'll be on Matthew's floor within minutes of your arrival," Edith laughed, shaking her head from her perch on the sofa next to Sybil.
"I want him to be ravenous from the moment I walk in that door," Mary replied, giving her sisters a knowing smirk. "Whatever I wear has to have him reduced to a puddle instantly upon sight."
"Darling, he hasn't had sex in nearly a year," Sybil noted. "You could show up wearing a Hazmat suit and he'd be up for it."
"Although getting you out of that wouldn't be nearly as fun," Anna chimed in.
The three of them laughed while Mary gave them a classic eye-roll.
"Why don't you just wear a slip?" Edith suggested, getting up and going to Mary's closet to fetch a black negligee with lace trim. "It's sexy and functional. Everything would be covered, at least mostly, anyway."
"I still need to walk down the hall to take the lift to his quarters," Mary grumbled. "I should hope that I'm not too inappropriately dressed so as to run into anyone and shock them with an eyeful."
"We could secure the area for you and block access until you're safely on the Captain's wing," Anna suggested.
"Now that would be an interesting use of authority – 'this floor is off-limits so that the acting Captain can walk half-naked to her filthy liaison with the Captain.'" Sybil joked, using the same cheerful, artificial tone that the computer used for ship announcements.
"I'm not going to do that," Mary retorted. "We're not captains or even officers tonight. We're just us."
"Are you, though?" Edith questioned. "I can't imagine the real Matthew would be comfortable with break-up sex and all that it means."
"It doesn't mean anything, that's the point. He agreed to it," Mary shrugged. "He's Matthew, but he's still a man. If this is the end of us, he wants to have something to remember. It makes sense."
"What if it's good, though?" Sybil asked.
"Trust me, darling, it's going to be much better than good," Mary smirked.
"No, I meant what if it's so good that you both re-evaluate your situation?" Sybil explained.
Mary frowned. "We didn't break up because of bad sex. I don't think we've ever had bad sex in all the years that we've been together. I'm even willing to say that our standard doesn't even begin anywhere less than 'incredible'."
"Tell us how you really feel, though," Edith deadpanned.
"Break-up sex isn't going to solve anything. That's why it's called break-up sex. You do the deed, enjoy yourselves and move on," Mary continued, giving Edith a pointed look before turning and going over two outfits that her sister had brought out from the closet. "And I am going to enjoy myself thoroughly."
"Have any of you ever had break-up sex?" Edith asked, looking over at Sybil and Anna.
"Please. I barely had any kind of sex at all before Tom," Sybil huffed. "I can firmly vouch for the benefits of make-up sex, but break-up sex? I haven't a clue. Anna?"
"Twice. Both times basically reminded me of why I was breaking up with the boy in the first place," Anna answered. "And I will add a resounding yes to the make-up sex endorsement. I may have gotten into a few arguments with Alex deliberately just for that very purpose."
"Cheers to that!" Sybil squealed, clinking her wine glass with Anna.
Edith laughed. "I've never had break-up sex. Now I'm wondering if I shouldn't dump Bertie temporarily just so we can see what all the fuss is about."
"Better to just pretend, I think," Mary advised, looking at her sister wryly. "Poor Bertie would probably faint if he thought you were being serious."
They all laughed in agreement.
"Why did you break up, again, exactly?" Sybil asked Mary.
"You know very well why. Because he won't let go of his vow to the memory of Lavinia," Mary scoffed. "He's still guilt-ridden over leaving her behind on Earth, and he still considers our affair to have been somehow responsible for her death, as if it was some kind of punishment for his adultery."
"But you don't see it that way," Anna remarked.
Mary sighed and examined a red bandage dress appraisingly. "I liked Lavinia, what little I knew of her. However, Matthew was mine first. He proposed to me before he even met her. We would have been married if not for my stupidity and his foolish pride. I wish we didn't have to carry on an affair to find our way back to each other, but when we were assigned to this ship and we spent so much time together, worked side-by-side so closely each day, I knew something would happen. I was never going to not be with him, regardless of all that was against us."
"The two of you were like teenagers in those early months," Edith laughed.
Mary blushed and shook her head. "Lavinia's death was horrible but I had nothing to do with it and neither did Matthew. She had just called off their engagement. If she didn't perish in that vehicle crash, Matthew and I wouldn't be having break-up sex tonight, I can assure you of that."
"Do you really want to go ahead with this, though?" Sybil asked. "You still love him, don't you?"
"Would I ever admit to loving a man who preferred someone else over me?" Mary fired back. "He broke up with me, remember. He did this to us. I'm choosing to move on and that's what tonight is about."
They watched as she slipped into the dress and Edith zipped it up for her. Mary smoothed it over with her hands, her silk lingerie completely undetectable. Adjusting it slightly, she looked carefully at the different views of herself from multiple angles as they were projected on to the mirror.
"I do believe we have a winner," she smiled, adjusting her bra to make sure it was hidden below the plunging neckline.
"That's our cue," Edith declared, finishing her wine and helping Anna to her feet. "Enjoy yourself, darling."
"I most certainly will," Mary nodded, smiling as Edith and Anna made their way out to the foyer of her suite.
"Go easy on him," Sybil advised. "His head is all over the place right now."
"That's no longer my responsibility," Mary answered. "Sybil, I'm glad that the two of you are friends again, really, I am. However, after tonight, Matthew and I are colleagues and nothing more. If he has issues, I hope he gets the help he needs, but that's no more my concern than it would be for any other member of this crew."
Sybil nodded slowly and made her way to the door. "That sounds all well and good, darling, but he's still Matthew and you're still you, and the two of you together have never been just anything. Have fun tonight, by all means, but as for whether this is the end of the both of you or not, I'll wait and see."
"It is, believe me. Good night," Mary snapped, rolling her eyes.
Sybil smiled and left the suite.
Mary turned and looked back at her reflection once more. She ran a hand down over her bottom and up along her side, smiling at how the dress framed her body delectably. Her form was more lithe than curvy, but she thought she looked fabulous in this dress, all of her best features accented brilliantly. A warm flush filled her chest as the moment set in. Soon, she would be in Matthew's arms again. Soon, she would be able to touch him and do anything she wanted to him. Soon, her long wait would be over.
She was never one to gush or speak openly about her feelings. That was more Sybil's domain. Her parents raised her to be ladylike and elegant, and maintain a refined shell at all times. When it came to matters of the heart, and particularly the private goings on in the bedroom, well, she had received almost no guidance at all.
Until Matthew.
Looking back, she was so very lucky that he was her first real love. So many men had lusted after her. Any one of them could have seduced a naïve young woman who thought she was far more worldly than she truly was. Some of the antics that took place among the cadets at the Academy were entirely depraved. Yet, Matthew was always there, always protecting her, keeping her safe, even when they weren't dating. When they finally did get together, it was sweet and nice, but when they were alone, their bond was something else altogether,
She blushed as the memories came forth unbidden, a knowing laugh leaving her lips as she was able to revel in them without shame. They were explosive together, there was no other way to describe it. After those early tentative and cautious moments, something had been unleashed in them, something primal and daring. They had become more and more adventurous over time, trying and doing things that she could barely believe even today. After their first break-up, she dated a bit, but nothing came close to him, much to her annoyance. When they began their affair after being posted to the Andromeda together, their passion reached another level entirely. Whether it was the forbidden nature of their affair or the extra pleasure they derived from being together after breaking up the first time, every moment was precious and treasured.
As if they knew what they had was so fragile and could crumble at any moment.
She swallowed and made her way out of the bedroom and into the living room, slipping her feet into a pair of red flats that she knew he loved. Taking a deep breath, she paused in the foyer to look over herself a final time.
"One last fuck," she smiled bravely at her reflection before leaving her quarters.
"Bloody hell," Matthew mumbled, glaring at his reflection as he wrestled with the arcane white bow tie. He had watched videos on how to tie the blasted thing but his every attempt had turned out crooked, too loose, too tight, or unbalanced. He sighed and began again, muttering to himself as he went through the different steps.
"Put the widest part of the trunk of the elephant halfway through the loop," he coached himself, frowning all the while.
It had already been a hassle to deal with the trousers, crisp white shirt, cuffs and vest. Each button had a bauble that needed to be attached and he had to adjust the vest using some strap on the back of it. He tried to not complain too much given that he was wearing a fashion that was over two hundred years old, but the bow tie was proving to be a step too far.
"Maybe she'll find it appealing if I just let it hang loose," he mumbled before beginning all over yet again.
For his first foray into break-up sex, he was being quite meticulous. Ignoring dinner altogether, he spent the past hours in his study making preparations. He knew Mary. She would arrive armed to the teeth. A gorgeous dress that he would want to tear off of her the moment she showed up. Scandalous underwear that barely covered her to drive him wild. A body that he had yearned for ever since he woke up from stasis and had been so long without. Finally, her best weapon – an absolutely vulgar mouth that could undo him that sultry tone he loved.
He would experience her entire arsenal tonight, he was sure. This wasn't a fun get-together so they would have a pleasant memory for the future. She wanted complete annihilation, to give him a glimpse of what pure joy looked and felt like before she left him, never to return again. He knew better than anyone that she always acted with a purpose in mind, a plan. He accepted it. It was the only way to get her to come to him. Once she was here, however, he had no intention of following her plan. He had ideas of his own.
He swallowed and pulled the loops behind the bow tie tighter to stiffen the knot. A slow smile crossed his lips at his unexpected success. The thing didn't look that bad at all, actually.
He fetched the coat from his chair and eased his arms into the sleeves. The tails ran down his legs, making him look quite ridiculous he thought, but at least he managed to get the tuxedo on finally. He was grateful yet again that he opted not to go with the top hat and cane.
Taking a deep breath, he went out into the living room and over to the console on the side table. He checked over the details once again, making sure he had covered everything. Satisfied, he went to the bar and got the champagne bottle and glasses. Setting the temperature and pressure on the bottle, he waited a moment for the drink to be made ready before pouring it into the two tall flutes.
"Let battle commence," he declared, setting the bottle down and steeling his gaze on the front door.
Mary nodded to the several crew members that she passed in the hallway. Some of them seemed to look twice in her direction, others were almost gawking, having never seen her outside of uniform. She smiled and continued on, her confidence soaring. While it was entirely superficial and meaningless, she still enjoyed a bit of a rush being appreciated for her beauty. If she was going to be thrown back into the choppy waters of being a bachelorette, at least she wouldn't be fishing with no bait.
"Captain's quarters," she announced once she entered the lift.
'Crawley, Mary Josephine. Access confirmed,' the computer announced.
A flush of arousal warmed her as the lift moved swiftly through the levels of the ship. She wasn't exaggerating when she was speaking with her sisters earlier. Sex with Matthew was always incredible and she felt a jolt of added excitement knowing this would be their last time together. Usually, she liked for him to take the lead, enjoying seeing him want her so desperately. Tonight, she contemplated asserting herself instead. Let him have to serve her this time, let him see to her pleasure before his own.
She smiled wickedly as her plans took shape in her mind.
'Laboratory level' the computer chimed as the lift eased to a halt.
Mary rolled her eyes at the interruption and stepped back a bit. The doors slid open, revealing two junior officers laughing together.
"Captain," the one woman said, composing herself and nodding towards Mary.
"Captain," her companion echoed, following in and standing on the other side of the elevator, giving the first officer a playful smile.
"Petty officer. Petty officer," Mary replied politely.
"Housing quarters, level five," the first officer called.
The lift resumed its journey.
"What do you want for dinner?" the first officer asked the second. "I could make something fast. Pasta or I think we might have some chicken from last night."
The man smiled. "I already took care of dinner."
The woman looked at him curiously. "How?"
"I went back and prepared a roast during my last break. It started cooking an hour ago so it should be piping hot right about now," he revealed with a smug grin. "There's fresh bread, too."
She smiled and shook her head in disbelief. "You are just full of surprises."
"I am, and you love me for it, don't you?" he teased.
"Among other things, yes," she nodded, taking his hand and squeezing it.
The elevator came to their floor and they wished Mary goodnight before heading off to their quarters still holding hands.
Mary frowned slightly as the lift continued on.
Once she reached Matthew's floor, she took a deep breath and walked the short distance to his door. Just as she was about to scan her eyes and announce her presence, her watch buzzed. She glanced down at it and took a few steps back towards the lift. Arching her eyebrow in surprise at the incoming call, she went over to the console on the wall and waved her watch in front of it.
"Mary! Hi!" a chipper young woman exclaimed when she appeared on the screen.
"Hello, Rose," Mary greeted her younger cousin. "How are you?"
"So good!" Rose laughed. "Look!"
Rose waved her hand in front of the camera and Mary blinked at the rather large diamond ring on her cousin's finger.
"I said yes!" Rose squealed. "Can you believe it? Atticus completely surprised me tonight at dinner. I had no clue at all!"
Mary smiled. "Aww, that's lovely, Rose. Congratulations."
"Thank you!" Rose nodded. "Papa and Mummy were in on it the entire time. I can't believe he managed to keep them quiet about it because they are absolutely horrible about keeping secrets. His family came in, too, and everyone was waiting for us once we got home. I left a message for your parents. I think they must have been out at an event or something. I called Sybil and Edith, too. Do you think you'll be able to come back next year for the wedding? I have no idea about what date yet, but it's likely to be in April or June. Mummy said something about 'marry in May, rue the day' or some other nonsense, but I honestly can't be bothered to care either way at this point. Whenever it happens, I know it'll be wonderful and I really hope you all can be there. It would mean so much. I think of you all like sisters, really."
Mary nodded along as her cousin continued to babble. "We'll certainly try our best to be there, Rose. You and Atticus are so good together and I know you'll be a gorgeous bride."
"Thank you, Mary! Thank you so much," Rose smiled. "Now, how are you? We haven't spoken in so long. Papa mentioned to me how you were on Praxis helping with that wildfire. That seemed quite dangerous when I saw it on the news."
"It was quite intense, yes," Mary agreed. "Everything here is fine. Life aboard the ship is far more routine than people think."
"We only hear the legends of all the good you're doing, you understand," Rose joked. "What are you up to this evening? Sybil and Edith mentioned that you were busy, but I couldn't wait to tell you my news. I was going to just leave a message if I couldn't reach you. I'm so glad that I was able to get through."
"Just spending time with a friend," Mary said drily. "I should go, actually. Congratulations again, Rose. I'm so happy for you."
"Thank you!" Rose nodded. "I was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to propose! I mean, Sybil's been married for how many years now and she's but a few years older than I am. I was feeling rather left out!"
Mary smiled tightly. "Well, good that he got his act together in the end."
"Very good!" Rose agreed. "All right, let's try and have a proper chat sometime soon. Goodnight, Mary!"
"Goodnight, give my best wished to Atticus and to your parents," Mary smiled and ending the call.
She paused, looking at the dark screen for a moment before she took a deep breath and turned back towards Matthew's quarters.
"One last fuck," she reminded herself, swallowing and lifting her head with determination as she walked towards his door.
"Ow! That stings!" Alex complained, looking over his shoulder and glaring at his wife.
"Relax," Anna rolled her eyes. "You need to keep still."
He huffed and lowered his head again, gritting his teeth as she rubbed the salve along his back. "You're enjoying this."
"You're the one who went and wore that experimental suit without a base layer on underneath even though I warned you that it would give you a rash, and wouldn't you know? You've got a rash," she retorted.
"I thought it was the same material as all of our other suits," he grumbled. "Why would they change it?"
"Maybe because they didn't consider that some pilots have delicate skin like yours," she smirked.
"I do not have delicate skin," he scoffed. "My suit must have had a problem. No one else had a reaction to theirs."
"Yeah, hon, because everyone else wore a base layer," she noted, smiling as she applied another dollop of salve to his back and got a grunt of protest from him in response.
"So this is 'I told you so' is it?" he complained. "I should have just dealt with this myself."
"I'd like to see you try and reach some of these places on your own," she replied, rubbing his lower back. "Why didn't you just wear a shirt?"
"I don't like wearing anything under the suit. It gets uncomfortable when you're sweating and moving around," he explained. "It can cause chafing in rather sensitive areas."
"Sure it's not because you wanted to give the engineers a show when you were finished in the simulator?" she enquired. "Half of them are young women, if I recall."
He grunted in that way he always did when he knew she was having a go at him for no good reason. She smiled and gave his bottom a light squeeze.
"The sensors are more accurate if they're tight to your skin," he continued. "Wearing any layers delays the detection and response times and that can affect performance."
"It's a matter of microseconds, if that," she huffed.
"Love, when you're in combat, even a nanosecond can make a difference," he said seriously.
"You can't react that fast. No human can," she objected.
"Funny. Your temper seems to flare even faster than that," he countered.
"Only when you're getting on my nerves, husband," she retorted. "Anyway, you better figure something out because you can't be doing this each time you have a flight," she commented, spanking him before she rose to her feet. "There. You're sorted. That should numb the itch overnight and get you back to your pristine self by tomorrow."
"How am I supposed to sleep with all this gunk on my back?" he asked, sitting up and frowning as he tried to look back over his shoulder.
"On your stomach, I guess," she shrugged, putting the salve away. "Otherwise we'll have to do this all over again in the morning."
"Well, tonight is going to be a joy," he whinged, standing up and going over to the bar for a bottle of water.
"I have the early shift tomorrow so you had better get all of your crying out of the way before we go to bed, or else you're sleeping on the couch," she declared.
He scoffed at her and took a drink.
"Since you're in such a beauty of a mood, would this be a good time to tell you we're going to visit Mum when we get back?" she giggled.
"Now would be the perfect time for that," he sighed in exasperation. "How long do we have to stay?"
"Three days," she informed him. "I've planned some mother-daughter time so that you can get a bit of a break, but we're going to have all of our meals together, I'm afraid."
"Right," he muttered. "Well, it has been a long time since we were there, and she at least lives sort of in the city now. Three days won't be so bad."
"Actually, it's five days. I just told you three to cushion the blow, as it were," she shrugged sheepishly.
He frowned and stalked towards her. "Five days?"
She laughed as he grabbed her by her waist and pulled her to him. She placed her hands on his chest to avoid touching his back. She was almost a foot shorter than him so he quickly scooped her up and took her to the sofa, seating her in his lap and giving her a disgruntled look.
"Now, now," she chuckled as she patted his cheek. "I've spent longer than that with your parents."
"My parents love you!" he protested. "And we never have to take all of our meals with them, besides."
"Mum loves you and you know it," she said pointedly. "You're the one who always acts put out around her."
"She said she didn't want half-Asian grandchildren!" he reminded her, staring at her with wide eyes.
"She apologized for that, though," she sighed. "The woman is a bit crazy, yes, but she's still my mother and deep down she doesn't mean half the things she says."
"Five days of sleeping on the sofa bed in the basement is not my idea of a pleasant vacation, love," he groaned.
"Well, you'll be pleased to know that Mum has come around on the idea of us sharing a bed," she smiled.
He blinked in surprise. "Really?"
She laughed and nodded. "I told her that it's ridiculous for us to sleep in separate rooms and I threatened to go to a hotel if she didn't see reason."
He grinned. "Wow. Well, all right, that changes things, then."
She frowned. "Alex Lewis, we are not having sex while my mother is asleep down the hall."
"But that's your childhood bedroom!" he whinged. "You've still got those frilly linens and everything! We can pretend we're back in high school and you're sneaking me into the house for a bit of fun."
"Well, if we're pretending to go back to a time when I didn't know you, then I suppose you won't be sleeping with me at all, will you?" she noted pointedly.
"We can take some liberties. We'll pretend that we did know each other and we'll also pretend you didn't have braces," he offered.
"Want to know what else we can pretend, hon?" she asked threateningly.
"I'm just saying we shouldn't be so hasty in deciding nothing will happen," he backtracked. "Sleeping together in your old room has lots of potential. You have to admit that."
"You're probably hoping I still have my cadet uniform as well," she rolled her eyes.
"Those trousers were remarkably flattering in all the right places," he grinned, fondling her bottom.
"Not a chance," she stated firmly.
"Fine," he huffed. "It's better than having to sleep apart, or worse, on the floor."
"There's my dear husband," she smiled, kissing him lightly.
"Please say we are at least taking a trip by ourselves at some point during our leave," he pleaded.
She laughed. "We are. A week on the Amalfi Coast, just the two of us."
His eyes lit up. "That sounds perfect. Do tell me more."
She smiled and kissed him softly. Grabbing her tablet from the side table, she tapped her fingers on the screen and brought up images of the trip she planned for them.
"I found us a gorgeous little house overlooking the water in Positano," she explained.
He held her close and smiled, following along as she guided him through their itinerary.
When Mary stepped over the threshold and into Matthew's suite, the first thing she noticed was the dim lighting. The normally bright foyer was muted and the living room beyond seemed cloaked in shadow. She frowned and came through. Was he not home?
"Hello, Mary," Matthew smiled and nodded, meeting her partway and handing her a champagne flute. "Here you are."
She smiled and accepted the drink. "You were waiting for me."
"With great anticipation," he nodded, raising his glass to her. "To tonight."
"To tonight," she echoed, lifting her glass towards him before taking a sip. The champagne was bubbly and light, with a sweet taste that tickled her throat. "Mmm, that's quite good. This tastes remarkably like Barons de Rothschild."
"2102, one of the finest vintages," he confirmed. "I've been saving it since we boarded."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "All this time?"
"Waiting for a special occasion," he smiled and took another sip.
She watched him carefully, savouring another taste of champagne. This was a clever ploy on his part – go all out to impress her right from the off, while also plying her with alcohol early in the evening. She could feel the charge in the air. Despite how many times they had made love, this was new territory for them and he was making the first move to try and set the pace. Deciding to play along for now, she took the time to appraise him while she enjoyed her champagne. His finely tailored suit fit his frame impressively. He was almost back in shape, almost back to normal. She blinked as her gaze sharpened more closely on the white bow tie and the black tails of his coat.
"What is that you're wearing?" she asked, laughing with interest.
He smiled and held his arms out, posing for her amusement. "It's a vintage tuxedo. I had it made on Rian 2, using some old photos. Do you like it?"
"It's certainly different," she managed. "But it does make you look rather dashing. Were you saving this for a special occasion as well?"
"I was," he nodded. "It's part of the theme."
"A theme? Tonight has a theme?" she questioned, smirking as she stepped towards him.
"I thought it appropriate," he replied. "You do enjoy a bit of a roleplay, don't you?"
"Sometimes, yes," she acknowledged, a warmth spreading from her chest as she recalled the many VR sessions she did to keep herself sane while he was in stasis. "And who, or what are you supposed to be?"
"Just myself," he answered. "It wouldn't do to pretend to be someone else. That's not what tonight is about."
She nodded, contemplating his answer and his attire. "And me? Am I appropriately dressed in keeping with your theme for this evening?"
He gladly took her bait and slowly cast his eyes down her body. She blushed under the heat of his stare but remained calm, watching him defiantly as his gaze took in the thin straps that tied around her neck, her bare shoulders and arms, the vee neck that dropped down to her cleavage and how the dress descended in horizontal lines that wrapped over her waist, flared out across her hips and stopped just past mid-thigh.
"Well?" she asked when his eyes finally returned up to meet hers. Her breath caught when she saw the obvious hunger in his gaze, as if he was contemplating the many ways he was going to devour his prey tonight. "Will I do?"
He smiled. "I'll need to see the back to be sure."
She arched her eyebrow and held his playful look for a moment before slowly turning around, one hand on her hip. Casting a brief glance over her shoulder, she shivered when she saw him so blatantly checking out her ass.
"The verdict?" she prompted him, turning back around.
"You look beautiful," he declared, his blue eyes never straying from her face as he said the words.
Her arousal flared as his eyes gave weight to such a simple compliment. Eventually, they both retreated to their drinks, finishing the champagne, which did nothing to calm their nerves or heartbeats.
"Well, this would be the time that you take me to bed," she smirked, seizing back the initiative. There was something too intense in that last look he gave her, something dangerous that had no business being a part of break-up sex. She needed to get this back on even footing, to a safe place where she could focus on the moment. This was just one last romp between them, nothing more.
He smiled and nodded. "Actually, I thought we might use the study, first."
"The study?" she questioned, raising her eyebrow and slowly following him towards the other end of his quarters away from the bedroom.
"You remember it, don't you?" he challenged. "I seem to recall you enjoyed it immensely."
She swallowed. They had christened his study quite thoroughly after they began their affair. There was something hedonistic almost about him sitting in his chair like a king, feasting upon her as she lay naked on her back across his desk, or bending her over and taking her hard and fast from behind. Their last time there was in the weeks before the break-up, weeks before the mission that almost stole him away from her. He was especially ravenous that time, she recalled, and she had responded in kind. She remembered her breath fogging up the window, books falling from the shelves, framed diplomas and photos crashing to the floor as he pounded her against the wall.
"Why not?" she smiled, trying to keep her voice and stride even and measured. "It's as good a starting location as any."
"After you," he nodded, gesturing for her to go in ahead of him.
She stepped forward and a smile crossed her lips as she took in the familiar room, everything so neatly organized and clean. It was spacious, more a small library than a study. Besides the desk there was no real furniture. Matthew liked to pace when he was contemplating something complicated, so he had the sofa and chairs removed, giving him the room to wear out the plush rugs that lined the floor.
It wasn't merely a place where they had sex, however. Her eyes wandered to the bookshelves and recalled how he would sometimes read to her while she stared out the window and enjoyed a glass of wine. One wall was filled by a display screen. They spent countless nights debating and arguing over strategy while they mapped out missions on that wall. This room hosted so many of their conference calls with Papa and other officials across the galaxy. They hosted private anniversary parties for Anna and Alex and Sybil and Tom here. She was comfortable here, calm and relaxed.
"What shall we start with?" she asked, giving him a sultry smile and stepping to him. Her hands slipped beneath his tuxedo jacket to feel the warmth of his chest.
The audible catch of his breath was like triumphant horns blaring in her ears.
'Poor Matthew. You don't stand a chance.'
"Shall I get down on my knees and let you use my mouth?" she drawled, kissing his neck and pressing herself against him. "Or shall we get straight to it and you can fuck me on your desk?"
She could feel his rampaging pulse beneath her lips. A grin filled her face as she swiveled her hips slowly and pressed against his hard arousal.
'He may not last five minutes at this rate' she thought wickedly.
"Mary," he swallowed tightly, his hand coming up to grasp her hips.
"Mmm, Matthew," she moaned just the way he liked.
"How about a dance first?" he managed, grunting to get the words out.
She frowned and leaned back slightly to look up at him. "A dance?"
"Yes," he nodded. "I didn't get to dance with you at the reception on Praxis. Would you dance with me now?"
She laughed incredulously. "I think you're going to get far more than just a dance with me tonight."
He smiled weakly. "Yes, but I just want to hold you, just to start off with."
She nodded slowly. "Very well."
Her hands move up and over his shoulders, linking loosely behind his neck. He pulled her closer, his fingers slipping around her waist to rest just above her bottom.
"Play," he called out.
The song began with just a piano, airy and light, the notes seeming to float all around them as he turned her, his eyes remaining on hers. Violins joined in, as if the strings were seated somewhere to her right. Before the first lyric was sung she smiled and gave him a mocking smile.
"Of course it would be this song," she remarked.
"The first song we ever danced to," he replied.
"I believe the first song that we ever danced to was actually Ring Around the Rosie, wasn't it?" she noted.
"Perhaps, although I only got to hold your left hand. My left was occupied by Bobby Charlton. He had a rather firm grip for a four-year-old."
She laughed and relaxed into his hold.
"Do you remember how I used to chase you around in the gymnasium?" he asked.
She nodded. "I told Mama that her friend's son was bothering me at school."
"Father told me to leave you alone," he recounted. "Mother didn't say anything, but strangely, she began packing two lemon tarts with my lunch from then on."
She shook her head and smiled. "And we were inseparable after that. I loved those tarts."
"You know, when I was going over Mother's things, I found the recipe," he confided in her, his eyes looking down at their feet for the first time as he continued to lead her through the dance.
She blinked. "You did?"
He nodded, slowly raising his eyes back up to hers. "She promised to share it with me years ago, but never got around to it. She used shortbread for the shells. That was her secret."
"Why did you not tell me before?" she asked. "I would have loved to know how to make them. Every attempt I tried was never nearly as good."
He smiled. "Saving it for a special occasion. I wanted it to be a surprise."
She smiled and nodded, continuing with their dance. Taking a deep breath, she rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, breathing him in. Nostalgia was dangerous. She knew it was. They had so much history together that reminiscing on it would only make this all the more difficult. Their memories became more gilded with time and of course, he only wants to mention the sweet ones. They weren't all sweet.
"Mary?" he asked.
"Mmm, yes?" she replied softly.
"Keep your eyes closed for a moment longer," he said.
Her eyebrow arched in curiosity, but she complied, allowing him to guide her around. She didn't notice him lifting his hands to enter a command on his watch.
"All right, you can open them now," he whispered, his voice smooth and warm in her ear.
She lifted her head and opened her eyes.
"Oh God!" she exclaimed in shock.
Their song faded a bit, blending more into the background. He stopped dancing with her, but kept her in his hold as she slowly turned around in wonder.
Downton Abbey, her family home, looms before them, the image of it is remarkably real, the detail of the gargoyles and spires stretching up into the black night above drawing her attention. The lights are on inside, and she can just imagine her parents presiding over a lovely dinner. Maybe some of the neighbours have been invited. She imagines good food, good wine and good conversation and her heart lurches. She's been to the far reaches of the galaxy and yet Yorkshire is still home, even though she lived there for less than half her life.
She frowned as she noticed the air grew colder, and as she glanced around, she realized that they're supposed to be standing outside. She hugged herself slightly, rubbing her arms as if she needed to keep warm. It must be winter.
There was a hiss from above her and she looked up, the pitch black of the ceiling giving it a height that she knew was just an illusion. Her eyes widened as she made out tiny white flakes floating in the air and falling slowly towards her. Reaching out her hand, she caught a few, the cold bits melting to water almost upon contact with her warm skin.
"Snow," she laughed, shaking her head. "I don't believe it."
"It's mostly mist that's been frozen not quite to the point of becoming ice," he commented, coming to her side. "It took some doing to get the settings just right. I gave myself a huge headache, I'm afraid."
"No doubt you think it's worth it," she smiled, looking over at him.
"Do you like it?" he asked, nodding towards Downton. "It's been so long since you had a chance to spend Christmas holidays there, I thought you might want to see it."
"It's perfect," she nodded. "The place doesn't look a day over four hundred years old."
He laughed.
"Can you show me the inside?" she asked, a funny smile on her face as she took in the building before her.
"I think you've seen plenty of it in VR already, haven't you?" he teased.
She blushed and looked over at him before turning back to the house. "I suppose, though I never went to so much detail as you've done here."
He nodded. "We'll have to work on that."
She frowned at his words, some meaning within them made her immediately suspicious. Turning to face him, she looked at him closely. "Why did you do this?"
"To give you a glimpse of home," he replied. He reached out and took her hands in his, his blue eyes remaining on her the whole while.
Her mind blared warnings at her but she didn't pull back from him.
"Mary, I must apologize to you," he said.
She arched her eyebrow. "Apologize? For what, pray?"
He laughed ruefully. "Many things. I suppose as good a place to start as any is to apologize for what you had to go through while I was in stasis. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for you, as well as for Sybil and everyone else. I'm sorry to have caused you so much pain and frustration, though I'm glad that it all came good in the end, obviously."
She nodded slowly. "It was horrid, but you're here now, so it was all worth it."
"Besides that, I must apologize to you for our affair," he continued.
Her hands tensed in his hold. "You wish to apologize for that?"
He shook his head. "I'm not apologizing for our being together. I could never be sorry for that. The circumstances were less than ideal, to say the least, but it wasn't because of you. If I ever made you feel as if you were some dirty secret, or just my mistress that kept my bed warm, I'm sorry. I never meant for it to seem as though you were just convenient or a welcome distraction. You were never that."
She swallowed, her stomach fluttering. "Thank you for saying that. Is that all?"
"No," he answered, taking a deep breath. "I'm not going to submit a transfer request when we get back to Earth. I'm not leaving the Andromeda."
Her eyes bulged. "You're not?"
"No. I'm staying here," he confirmed. "I was wrong about contemplating leaving before. It was an easy escape, I thought. It would give me some distance and a chance to start over, perhaps learn from my mistakes."
"What happened to change your mind?" she asked, not entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer.
"The idea lost its lustre the more I was able to think about it," he said. "Starting over with a new ship, new crew. Having to get used to them, them getting used to me, it's a lot of extra work. I've already put in so much time and effort here, walking away from it seems wrong."
"That's understandable. There's no guarantee that another crew would adapt to your style of command the way this one has," she muttered.
"I would make it work if I had to," he nodded. "I have more important reasons to stay, though."
Her pulse jumped. "Such as?"
He brought her hands up to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly. Holding them to his chest, he smiled at her. "You, Mary. I don't want to be apart from you."
Her mouth fell open.
"I was wrong, utterly and completely wrong," he confessed. "I was wrong for neglecting Lavinia, but I was wrong for mistreating you as well. I felt guilty for not being loyal to her and when she died, I was ashamed because I never loved her the way she deserved to be loved and I felt horrible that she would never get to have that with someone better."
She pursed her lips. Matthew was an absolute wreck after hearing of Lavinia's death. It took them two weeks to return to Earth and he came to her for comfort. She let him talk and cry until he passed out each night from sheer exhaustion and she felt an odd sense of pride that he had come to her when he needed someone.
"Matthew…" she began.
"No, please," he interrupted her. "You were there for me, Mary. You were there when I was at my lowest, and after the attack, you were there for the eight months I was in stasis. You chose to be with me. You chose to fight for us."
She nodded, the warmth in his voice overwhelming her.
"I turned you away because I thought I would be dishonouring her memory if we carried on," he sighed. "But that was unfair to you and disrespectful of all that you've done. Lavinia left me. She left me because she recognized that we didn't belong together, that we would be happier with other people. I was so broken that I didn't want to believe her, but that's changed now."
"How so?" she asked, her voice quiet as if she was afraid of breaking some spell if she spoke any louder.
He smiled. "I love you, Mary. I want to be with you. I don't want to forget what we shared. I don't want to run away as if what we did was wrong. It was wrong of me to cheat on Lavinia and I will have to live with that. But, it could never be wrong to love you, and no matter what comes, I'm choosing to trust in that, to trust in us, just as you did."
She stared at him, not entirely sure she had heard him correctly.
"Say something, please," he urged her, concern beginning to slip into his eyes.
"What do you expect me to say to that?" she asked.
"I don't expect anything," he shook his head. "I would hope that it would make you happy."
"Happy?" she exclaimed, seizing her hands back. "You told me it was over between us. Twice. Now you come to me and tell me that you love me and I'm supposed to be happy?"
He grit his teeth to stop the response that immediately came to mind. She stepped back from him, her eyes clouding over in anger.
"This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go!" she snapped. "We were just supposed to fuck and that was it! Break-up sex! That's what we agreed upon! There was no mention of dressing up in fancy clothes, giving me expensive champagne and playing with my emotions by taking me to Downton for a stroll through our memories!"
"Mary," he called, raising his hands in front of him.
"You don't get to do this!" she snarled. "My happiness, my well-being, my feelings are no longer your domain or your concern! You forfeited every right you ever had to speak of such things when you turned me away mere moments after you woke up. Do you have any idea at all how much I died every day of those eight months waiting for you to open your eyes? Do you know how gutted I was to have to say goodnight to you each evening, not knowing whether in the morning Sybil would tell me we had to give up? I gave everything of myself and more to bring you back and you threw me over the first chance you got!"
He recoiled as if she slapped him. The truth cut him deeper than any blow possibly could.
"If you had never recovered, you would have left me with the memory of you telling me it was over between us and that you were going back to Lavinia. Did you ever try and understand how devastated I would have been to know that we parted on such terms?" she demanded.
He let out a defeated breath and nodded.
"You've got a nerve," she accused, her lips curled in fury. "Everything you've put me through and you dare think that one 'I love you' is enough to have me fall into your arms."
"I don't expect you to fall into my arms," he retorted, trying to keep himself composed. "I don't expect anything from you. I didn't expect break-up sex. You were the one who brought it up. I'm not asking for your forgiveness because you're right – I have no claim, nor any right to your heart anymore. But I had to tell you. I had to tell you how I felt because, as you said, I couldn't leave things the way they were. I couldn't leave you believing that you were at fault in any way for what happened between me and Lavinia and I couldn't leave you believing that I don't love you. What you choose to do now is your choice alone and I will abide by it. I love you and I want you and that's what tonight was all about – trying to show you where we've been, yes, but also to let you know that there's still a future for us if you want it."
She scoffed and shook her head. A few tears spilled down her cheek and it only angered her more to cry in front of him. She wiped her face quickly and kept her glare on him.
"Well, now I know and now you know that it's far too little, far too late," she sniffed, spinning towards where she thought the door was.
He ended the program and his study returned to normal. She stormed out and headed for the foyer.
"Far be it from me to give you any advice, but I wouldn't give up on that transfer request just yet," she said quickly, not even bothering to look back at him.
He followed her out, at a loss as to what else to say. Everything he wanted to tell her had been spoken and her answer had been deafening. Usually, when they argued, he relished getting the last word in, as did she. More often than not, he let her have the final say, if only because he knew it was mostly for appearances. When he was sure that he had gotten through to her, that she understood his point, even if she didn't agree with it, allowing her a token response at the end was no great loss. He liked to think it was another example of how he knew her better than anyone else, how he could understand her moods and when to push back and when to concede.
The only thing he knew now was that there was no winner tonight.
She paused on the threshold of his front door, almost as if she was waiting for him to say something else. When he didn't, she was gone, headed for the lift and away from him.
He watched her go, the knowledge that he had at least tried of no consolation at all.
Matthew almost ripped his tuxedo numerous times in his desperation to be rid of it. After what happened tonight, he'll always feel stifled in it, as though the luxurious fabric is choking the life out of him the way Mary's departure stole all the air out of his suite. He eventually got the jacket with its blasted tails off, the vest and shirt, buttons and cufflinks flying across the bedroom to be retrieved some other time and the stupid bow tie. He randomly thought that if he had worn a proper suit from this era, Mary would be in his bed right now recovering before another round of make-up sex.
If only clothes were the deciding factor.
He stood in the bedroom for far too long debating whether to take a shower, a bath or to just become ridiculously drunk. A bath would encourage his wallowing far too much so he chose a shower and as the water streamed down on him, he leaned against the wall and contemplated his future.
Mary wasn't wrong when she told him to still consider his transfer request. It was meant as a final cutting remark spoken in anger but there was a reasonable argument to be made for why remaining on the Andromeda was a bad idea.
Mary was his second-in-command. Once he resumed active duty, they would be working closely together just as before. They are both dedicated professionals, two of the best and brightest in the fleet. They could easily make it work, but he didn't know if he would be satisfied with being her commanding officer and nothing else.
They grew up together and will always have a bond. With his parents gone, he has no family left besides hers, so even if he left for another ship, they will cross paths again, even if it's rare. He tried to imagine being on a mission in some far-off star system and receiving word that she was engaged to another man. The very prospect just in theory was disheartening to him. How brutal would it be to witness it firsthand?
The response jumped into his mind before he could even consider it. About as painful as Mary having to watch him introduce Lavinia as his fiancée, surely.
By the time the air dryers finished with him, he still hadn't come to a decision. Now is probably not the best time to be making career and life choices anyway, but the longer he lingered on the question, the longer he'll feel adrift and aimless. Even if Mary had taken him back, the next while wouldn't be entirely smooth for them. They've been apart for so long now that they aren't used to being together anymore and all their old habits would need to be relearned. As fun as that would be in the bedroom, they would have to adapt to consulting each other again, thinking of each other, including each other in their plans and routines. Mary was probably the most independent woman he knew. Having her make room for him again would not be easy, and to suggest it wouldn't be easy would only annoy her.
But none of that would matter ultimately because they would be together, and even arguing and fighting with her is preferable to what he is facing right now – a life without her in it.
"You fucking idiot," he muttered, shaking his head at his reflection before heading back out to the bedroom.
"Couldn't have said it better myself," Mary remarked coldly, standing on the other side of the bed.
He blinked in shock. "Mary. What…"
"You will never take me for granted ever again, do you understand?" she growled, stalking towards him. "You will never question my commitment to you. I've proven myself above and beyond any possible expectation and then some."
He nodded slowly, still unsure what in the blazes she's doing here and why she even came back.
"These moods of yours," she continued, drawing closer and closer. "You will not keep them from me. You will not feel guilty or ashamed or miserable without me knowing about it. You're mine, which means we share everything – good and bad. Your penchant for being a martyr and sacrificing yourself for the good of others without telling anyone ends now."
He gulped and stared at her with a mix of fear and arousal. She just said he was hers. Was that a rhetorical comment or merely speaking in the hypothetical?
He didn't have time to contemplate any of this because she was soon face-to-face with him and her hands took hold of his freshly shaven cheeks and even though her eyes are fiery, he didn't want to look away.
"I will not be second best to another woman's ghost," she hissed. "Remember her. Honour her. Respect her memory by all means. She is not to enter here. I know that sounds selfish but I truly believe she wanted you to be happy, which means you must let her be at peace."
He reached up and rubbed her wrists, keeping her hands on his face. "You are second to no one."
She allowed herself a slight smile at that, arching her eyebrow as she shook her head almost in resignation.
"God, I love it when you beg," she whispered, a full-on smile brightening her face.
"I love you," he declared once again.
"I love you too," she nodded, her voice tinged with need. "You better not have forgotten how to kiss me in the past eight months."
He pulled her in and pressed his lips to hers, determined to prove to her he hadn't forgotten a thing.