Chapter 31 - Making Headway

We were humming along on the way to our destination, still four days to go before we'd reach Proxima b, the second planet of the third star in the Alpha Centauri system. Not to be confused with the other two stars, Rigil Kentaurus, the first star, or Alpha Centauri A, or Toliman, which would be Alpha Centauri B. Proxima Centauri was actually designated as Alpha Centauri C, but properly called Proxima Centauri, and its second planet would be Proxima Centauri b, or Alpha Centauri Cb, and I found myself with nothing to do.

Well, that's not true, I guess. There were always a million things on the to-do list. Check the data logs, run diagnostics, and re-calibrate the sensors. It was endless. But nothing demanding my attention at that precise moment, at least nothing I couldn't put off for a little while longer. So, naturally, I headed to the gym, determined to focus on something other than Emily.

Arm day. Just the ticket. I started with bicep curls, trying to lock into the burn, the rhythm of the weight, but it was a losing battle. Every couple of reps my brain went rogue, replaying the feel of Emily’s arms around me, the taste of her lips, that way she looked at me this morning like she was seeing a goddamn vision. “Focus, Luca, focus," I muttered to myself, like that would actually do something.

After a few sets, I switched to hammer curls. It was arm day for chrissakes and these puppies needed some extra love. I glanced at the clock, like a prisoner, and barely ten minutes had gone by. Damn. This workout was gonna be a long one. I tried to get lost in the routine, the counting, the lifting, the controlled movements, but my eyes kept drifting towards the door, hoping, anticipating…

Then, about ten minutes in, the door hissed open, and Chris walked in. Because, of course, the one day I needed to be alone, the ship's resident muscle man would show up. He gave me a nod, then started his own routine. He moved with an economy of motion that I envied, each exercise precise and controlled. The guy’s a machine, I swear. What the hell did Chris even do all day anyway? He's the communications officer, and we're four and a half light years from Sol. It's not like anything we're saying is getting back home anytime soon. I mean, for real, what the hell did he have to do? Maybe we should rethink some of these positions. After a while, he ambled over, all casual, with his unsolicited advice like it was a gift.

"You're flaring your elbows too much," he says, his voice rumbling like a goddamn earthquake. "Keep them tucked in. You'll get a better contraction."

"Right, thanks," I said, trying to process his words, but my brain was already halfway back to Emily, wondering what she was up to. I probably looked like I didn't hear a word, because, honestly, I didn’t.

As if on cue, the door hissed open again, and in walked Emily and Zoe, back from whatever it was they were doing, a burst of energy and laughter. They were both now wearing their workout gear, those tiny shorts and tight tank tops, and they were practically bouncing on the balls of their feet. What did Zoe do, give her a triple shot of espresso? Zoe flashed me a huge smile, and Emily playfully elbowed her, both of them giggling like little kids, then headed straight for the treadmills. The way they moved, it was like a magnet for my eyes.

I tried to focus on my workout, but it was impossible. Every few seconds, I'd find myself glancing over at them, at the way their shorts rode up their thighs as they ran, the way their tank tops clung to their sweat-slicked skin. Focus, Luca. Arms. Weights. Muscles. Not Emily. Or Zoe. Nope.

After a few minutes, Chris grunted, gave me a curt nod, and headed out, leaving me alone with the girls. No sooner had the door slid shut than Emily hopped off the treadmill, grabbing a towel and wiping her face. She walked over to me, her movements fluid and graceful, even after a workout. Zoe headed for the exit, shooting Emily a knowing smirk and raising an eyebrow in my direction. Did she...? Did Emily set this up?

"Hey, Captain," she said, her voice a little breathless, like she’d run a marathon and not some lame-ass cardio. “Fancy meeting you here.”

"Hey yourself," I replied, trying to act casual, though my heart was doing that little flutter-kick thing again. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Oh, you know, just getting my cardio in," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She leaned against the bench, her hand resting on my arm. "So, what's on the agenda for today? Pumping iron?"

I couldn't help but grin. "Something like that," I said, my eyes glued to the curve of her neck, the way her tank top was stuck to her damp skin. God, she was so pretty.

She followed where I was looking, then looked back at me, a playful glint in her eyes. "Like what you see?"

"Maybe," I admitted, my voice a little rough, but also a lot honest.

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Maybe you should get a closer look." Before I could react, she grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the corner of the gym, behind a row of weight machines. It wasn't exactly hidden, but it was out of the direct line of sight from the door.

"Emily," I warned, my voice full of apprehension but excited. Fuck it. "Someone could walk in," I said, but even I could hear how weak my protest sounded.

"Relax," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "They're all busy. And if they're not..." She shrugged, a playful smile on her lips. "We'll give them a show." Fuck, she's so hot when she's like this.

***

She pressed herself against me, her body warm and damp from her workout. The thin fabric of her tank top did nothing to hide the outline of her sports bra, and I could feel her heart pounding against my chest, as frantic as my own. I was hard as a rock, throbbing, and it took everything I had not to just tear her clothes off right then and there.

My hands found their way to her waist, my fingers tracing the edge of her shorts. I could feel the sweat on her skin, and when I leaned in, my lips brushing against her ear, I could taste the saltiness. "You're playing a dangerous game," I whispered. I was trying to focus on not ripping her clothes, but fuck me if it wasn't hard. Literally.

"Maybe I like dangerous," she whispered back, her hands moving from my waist, down, further down, until she was cupping my bulge through my shorts, her fingers squeezing gently. A jolt of pure, animalistic lust shot through me. She tilted her head, her lips finding mine in a soft, lingering kiss. But there was nothing soft about what she did next.

The kiss deepened, becoming urgent, almost desperate, her tongue sweeping into my mouth, tasting, exploring. My hands moved lower, sliding beneath the waistband of her shorts, but instead of pulling them off, I just hooked my thumbs under the elastic, pushing them down just enough to give me access, along with her panties. I needed to feel her skin, all of it. I cupped her ass, my fingers digging into the firm flesh. I pulled her closer, grinding my hips against hers, letting her feel exactly how much I wanted her. She let out a soft moan, and that was it. I didn't care if we were in the goddamn gym, I needed her, now.

I pressed her against the weight machine, the cold metal a shock against her bare skin. She gasped, but she didn't pull away. Her hands were everywhere, on my chest, my abs, my back, her fingers digging into my muscles. And then, she wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, and I entered her, slowly at first, then faster, harder, deeper. We moved together, a frantic, desperate rhythm, fueled by lust and the thrill of the risk.

My head was spinning, the sounds of our ragged breath filling the small space around us, and I never, not ever, wanted this to end, not even if the ship blew up around us. The world narrowed down to her, to the feel of her skin, to the taste of her lips, to the way she was moving with me, inside of me, and for that single, perfect moment, nothing else mattered.

Then, I took control, pulling back just enough to break our rhythm, and with a low growl, I scooped her up in my arms, her body slick with sweat, her shorts barely hanging on, my own arousal a painful, throbbing reminder of how badly I wanted her. She gasped, her hands finding my neck as I backed towards the weight rack, then, I decided against it, I didn't want us on the cold metal. It was her fault, anyway, she was the one who started this, the little firestarter.

I carried her towards the far wall, stumbling a bit, her legs wrapped around my waist, and then, I lowered her onto a pile of yoga mats, finally finding a spot where we could just, be. I followed her down, my weight pressing her further into the mats, and then, without another word, I started moving again, pounding hard against her, my body a desperate, primal force.

Her nails dug into my back, a fucking painful, yet unbelievably arousing sensation that sent shivers down my spine. She was all fire and raw need, and I swear, I could feel myself reaching the edge, every thrust pushing me closer to the brink. Her moans grew louder, more strained, her breath catching in her throat as she started to shudder beneath me, her body clenching around mine. And then, holy fuck, it happened.

She spasmed, her body shaking out of control, and a warm, wet sensation spread across my stomach, my legs, the yoga mat beneath us. It was like a goddamn geyser, and I realized, with a jolt, that she was a squirter. Holy shit, my mind screamed! My brain went offline for a second, a mix of shock and pure, unadulterated awe. Did Joey and Chris really do it in this room? I wondered, my mind going a million miles an hour. This place is soaked, holy hell.

And then, I was there, right on the edge, and I couldn't hold back any longer. I pushed harder, faster, feeling the walls closing in, until finally, I exploded, a guttural groan ripping from my chest as I spilled myself into her. We stayed locked together, our bodies slick with sweat, and now, her own juices, our hearts pounding, the only sound the ragged rhythm of our breath, and for a few moments, the world outside of the yoga mats didn't exist. This was wild, holy fuck, this was wild. Who is going to clean this mess up? It’s got to be me, Emily’s too disheveled.

***

Afterward, we stood there, catching our breath, pressed against each other in the semi-seclusion of the weight machines. My heart was hammering, my body on fire. I could feel the sweat dripping down my forehead, matting my hair, and my own shorts were soaked. It was like I'd just run a marathon, not just from the exertion, but from the sheer intensity of it all. And Emily... she was a glorious, sweaty mess.

Her tank top clung to her, damp with perspiration, and her cheeks were flushed a deep red. Her hair was all over the place, and her eyes, her eyes were wide and a little wild, like she couldn't quite believe what we'd just done. I looked at Emily, and all I could think was, Fuck, I'm so gone for this girl. "We're going to get caught one of these days," I said, my voice rough, echoing my earlier sentiment, trying to catch my breath.

She just smiled and kissed me again, a quick, fierce kiss. Then, she leaned back, her hands on her hips, her chest heaving. "Damn," she said, her voice breathless, fanning herself with her hand. "That was... intense." She paused, her eyes widening slightly as she looked down at herself. A slow smile spread across her face, "And a big one, apparently," she added, her voice a little husky.

I followed where she was looking. A very noticeable puddle had formed on the floor beneath her, and she was still, well, dripping. She cupped herself with her hand for a second, then looked back at me, her cheeks flushing an even deeper red, if that was possible. "I, uh, think I need to find a bathroom," she said softly, her eyes sparkling with a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

"Here," I said, my voice still a little rough. I grabbed my gym towel from the bench and handed it to her. "For, uh, you know..." I gestured vaguely. She took the towel, a grateful smile on her lips. I looked at her, really looked at her, standing there all flushed and sweaty and gorgeous, and I couldn't help but wonder, Where did this girl come from? And how did I get so lucky?

I was the first to leave the gym, after making sure to wipe down any, uh, evidence of our activities from the weight machine. Priorities. I peeked out the door, checking the corridor. Empty. I gave Emily the all-clear sign, and she slipped out, her cheeks still flushed from our encounter, a lingering, almost wistful smile on her lips. She paused, her hand brushing my arm, and leaned in, pressing a quick, soft kiss to my cheek.

"Thanks, Captain," she whispered, her eyes sparkling. Then, with one last, lingering look back over her shoulder, and a bright, almost blinding smile that made my heart skip a beat, she darted off down the corridor, heading towards her cabin, a slight bounce in her step. I watched her go, relief and lingering desire swirling in my gut. What is happening to me?

Back in my cabin, I stripped off my damp clothes and headed for the shower. The hot water pounded against my skin, washing away the last of the sweat and the lingering scent of Emily. This is nuts, I thought, leaning my head against the cool tile. We're sneaking around like teenagers, having sex in the gym and… well… But still. At first, I thought I was the one with the problem, the lust-driven maniac. But Emily? She was... insatiable. Not that I was complaining, not really. It was just... a lot. A whole lot of a lot. I mean, two days ago, I was terrified of even touching her. Now, I couldn't seem to keep my hands off her. And she definitely wasn't helping matters. She's the one who started it, after all.

I turned off the water, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. We need to get some work done, I thought, running the towel over my hair. We have actual responsibilities. Chores, duties, you know, Captain stuff. It was my turn to mop the four decks today, which under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have minded. It was a mindless enough task, one that usually gave me time to think.

But today, all I could think about was Emily. What was she doing now? Was she thinking about me, too? Was she as turned on as I was, even now, hours later? Stop it, Luca. Focus.

There were still four days to go before we reached Proxima Centauri. Four days of sneaking around, stealing moments, and trying to keep our hands off each other in public. Four days of pretending like everything was normal, when nothing felt normal anymore. How the hell are we going to manage this?