The server room was slightly warm, but secure. Iris panted, her back against a humming computer bank, eyes glued to the door. The young man in a lab coat next to her was much the same, except that he had the comfort of an assault rifle nestled against his shoulder. Its barrel twitched with the shaky breaths of its wielder, and the two of them remained in relative stillness for what felt like an eternity. It was tense- the dry, slightly warm air clinging to their skin, the soft blue light shining from within black computer cases, the whir of fans… The tautness of fear made the cling of the air a choke, and the blue unwelcoming and alien. The minutes ticked by…
Finally, she saw the barrel of the rifle relent. The researcher at her side stared back, breathless. He set aside the weapon and let his head loll back against the black plastic, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He looked at her, the azure glow reflected in her eyes, the way her dirty blonde hair framed her cute face, and felt a pang of emotion he'd previously suppressed.
“I'm Iris,” she finally said, trying to break the tension. “What's your name?”
“I'm not supposed to say…” he noted. “…and I've read your file. Sorry if that strains things.”
“I'm used to it now,” she admitted with a shrug. “Mostly, anyway.” There was a brief pause. “You're not as old as the other doctors, are you?”
“Uh…” he murmured, taken aback. She was right, but most people paid it no mind. Then he looked at himself- under the lab coat was Slayer t-shirt. “Well I guess it sorta sticks out. Yeah.”
She giggled a little when he shot her that embarrassed smile.
“Fine, how old are you, then?” she prodded, partly teasing him.
“Twenty-one…” he answered after a notable hesitation. “…just turned.”
“No way.”
“Yup. 1990.”
“Me too.”
“…wait, really?”
An ease drifted down on them, and they shared a laugh. Maybe if things remained quiet they might have traded stories or said something heartfelt, but it was not to be, nor to be known. Mostly because what followed next was an impact that dented in the heavy steel-reinforced bunker doors, and shook plaster from the ceiling. At that exact moment the both of them thought they were going to die, and the young doctor did the only thing that seemed sensible in that situation- he kissed her.
Iris felt first and foremost surprise as their lips met, then felt something buried in her- physically, it felt like it was wedged in up against her spine, just behind her heart, but what it was, was far more significant. The feelings therein stirred to life, and she began to savor the kiss. She savored it for what it was, the simple physical joy that warmed her from the inside out. The two of them remained like that for almost a minute before either realized that doom was not, in fact, impending.
Everything up to now had been tense or awkward or both, but in that strained silence something just… broke. He kissed her again, and she grabbed a handful of his shirt, kissing him back. Hearts began to patter as all the unspent energy, charged with hormones, set the air alight. She pressed his lips to his at first, but soon allowing her mouth to open just so; her tongued probed forward and met his, and he pulled her close as the kiss deepened. In the dim light he could see color take to her face and she his. She raked her nails along the back of his neck, his hand deftly slid up her back. They didn't bother to undress fully- she hiked her shirt up, then her unclasped bra. She was modestly endowed, but it lent a quiet beauty to her. The cuteness of her face like pastel strokes, the hourglass of her figure and how it wasn't overt, the way her frazzled hair formed a halo around that face in the dimness… He trailed kisses from her smooth stomach up to her breasts, setting the featherlight touch on them with the prickle of five'o'clock shadow; it tickled her and elicited a quiet little squeal. She pulled him up with one hand and used the other to reach down, fumbling for his belt buckle.
A determined, dextrous hand freed it, and with a push his pants fell around his knees. Boxers followed. She could see his readiness, pulsing, unyielding, and the promise it held bordered on a threat. She slid a hand down to caress it, and he whispered a shivered word of passion into her ear. Iris bit her lip- she did that. It made her giddy. She wrestled with her own fatigues, and in frustration the two of them merely shucked them down off her body entirely; it exposed, long, smooth legs, creamy in the sapphire glow. Her thighs were not quite lush, but rather just thin enough to leave a triangular gap when she crossed her legs, framing her vulva with an intensity of focus. She hooked one leg around his waist, her sneaker catching on his hip, and she grabbed his shoulders to pull him in. The two shared a kiss, lingering, soft, before he brought his hips forward. It was a touch, at first, then a push. Her flesh struggled, even slickly wet, but as he edged forward her body relented. He grunted with effort, squeezing into her bit by bit until it felt like he could struggle no farther. She clutched at his coat. It stung a little, but moreso she was overcome by feelings forgotten…
The first movement was slow, tentative. The second explored her further. The third sunk deeper than any previous, and there was a gasp from her that was echoed in him; rocking back and forth in time, and as he leaned forward to press his tongue to hers, the pace sparked into new life. Neither was sure of how much time passed after that, nor did they care. The world fell away. There was nothing but passion and heat. His hips met against her rump with a meaty slap on each impact, and her whole body jerked from the force of it. Sweat slicked first his body, then hers, soon becoming a sticky drip on the cool floor beneath them; even it was beginning to burn with their warmth. Maybe it was the fact that felt like death was only a few feet away, maybe it was because of being so wound up, but the crescendo began to build, as much a sign as the tide pulling away for a tidal wave. She clawed at his back and they reached a fever pitch, pistoning hard and fast until it all came crashing down. She let out a scream in climax, and he snarled in her ear, following just a split second later. A lightning bolt shot through her body and she spasmed from the inside out, fingers and toes curling uncontrollably; as much as she felt him pulse and the hot, viscous sensation in her belly, he felt every twitch of her womanhood in excruciating, too-much-pleasure detail.
Their voices hung in the air like thin smoke, a moment hanging still around them like a snapshot of unfettered bliss. Even the motes of dust stilled around them just for a moment, as if they too were caught in it. Slowly, his weight sunk down on her, and she panted softly and pushed his torso over until it wasn't crushing her chest. The two of them just lay there for a time, damp and heaving for breath. A handful of minutes passed like a palmful of breadcrumbs, scattered haphazardly. There was a return of life, and he sheepishly asked if she wanted to go at it again; she said yes.
Fifteen hours later, the lockdown ended and the last of the breached containment chambers were being resealed. Able's strength had been lent (if only for a short while) to the effort, lifting away fallen struts and pulling away rubble in portions of tonnage. The server room door hissed, and the emergency light over it blipped a firm green. A tall man stood in the doorway with the light to his back, and saw two people propped up against the rectangular machines. His comrade lay with some fool curling his arm over her, as if that would shield her from harm. Even the weapon in his other hand was no good, as the aforementioned fool was fast asleep; to him they were mere children, but he was no fool. He promptly decided it was not worth his attention and stepped in the room, crossing his arms and speaking with a tone that was uncharacteristically authoritarian.
“You two. Get up.”
Immediately the armed youth raised the rifle, his eyes snapped open from a dead sleep. There was a gap measured in several seconds before his mind awoke and caught up with things, and he looked up at the towering figure in the doorway; his eyes widened like many a small boy, catching his first glimpse of gleaming bronze armor or polished steel. Able remembered it so clearly it was almost like seeing the memory layered across his vision. The silence broke when his comrade grumbled, looking haggard and tired from the ordeal, but no worse for wear. She rose and straightened her pants, pulling the white coat around her like a shield from the light from outside.
“Are you unhurt?”
She grumbled an affirmative.
“Go see the healer, even so.”
She straightened her back and stepped out.
Able watched the young doctor step out into the hall,
and Clef promptly smacked him in the back of the head.
“You should know better.”
