Get There: (Originally Published in the Print Anthology a RED HOT VALENTINE'S DAY)

by Megan Hart

  Murphy and Darowish had managed to get the infected under quarantine and forced into the comatose state required for the Surge. The rest of the crew had also been settled into full sleep, but with the medical officer out of commission, the only one left able to pilot the ship through the Surge was Captain Darowish herself.

  “Time to power down, Commander,” she told Murphy. “Get into your bunk.”

  “No, Captain.”

  It was the first time he’d ever refused a direct command. Murphy had argued with her in the past. He’d discussed and offered opinions. But he’d never outright refused.

  Darowish, her mind already on the next steps of the journey, faced him. “This isn’t a matter for discussion, Commander. Power down.”

  Murphy shook his head. The military cut did nothing to flatter the dark hair she knew would be like silk against her fingers if he allowed it to grow. He didn’t move out of her way, either. “No.”

  “Commander. Are you refusing a direct order?” Darowish stood as tall as she could, though Murphy still topped her by a good six units. “I don’t have time to fool around. We’re nearing the Surge. We’ve got infected on board and—”

  Murphy kissed her. No slow slanting of mouth on mouth, his kiss was hard. Harsh. Utterly without mercy.

  Darowish leaned into it, her arms going around his neck as his hands, those big hands, slid beneath her ass and lifted her. Murphy pinned her to the smooth plazmetal wall of the control room, and Darowish hooked her ankles around his waist. The sleek material of his sleep suit might have disguised his very firm muscles, but it did nothing to hide his erection.

  “I won’t leave you to face it alone,” Murphy said into her mouth.

  Darowish pulled away and caught her breath before she spoke. It was important her voice didn’t shake. That she didn’t lose her nerve. “You don’t have a choice, Murphy.”

  His hands held her up and she had no fear he’d drop her. Murphy had never dropped her. When his fingers flexed, Darowish felt the imprint through her own sleep suit. The suit she wouldn’t need.

  Murphy pressed against her, his cock thick and hard. He put his face into the curve of her shoulder, where his breath stole along the curved neckline of her suit and warmed her chilled skin. Again, he shook his head. Again, that single word.

  “No.”

  “Murph—” Her warning tone sounded choked, and Darowish swallowed hard before trying again. “Put me down.”

  He kissed her again. Softer this time. The gentle pressure of his lips on hers urged them to open. When his tongue swept inside, tasting her, Darowish wanted to weep. This would be the last time of last times. Why had she fought this for so long, only to accept now what he’d have offered her a thousand times over?

  Because of the Surge. Without the medical officer, human in appearance but nonetheless only a replica, someone else had to man the ship through the Surge so it didn’t shake itself apart, or worse, reassemble in occupied space. And without the medical officer, the captain was the only person able to do it.

  “Thirty minutes until Surge.” Gamma’s soothing female voice echoed from the speakers.

  Darowish pushed away from Murphy until he set her on her feet. “I’m giving you a direct order, Commander. Get to your bunk and power down, or I’ll—”

  “What? Put me in the brig? Keelhaul me? Bring me up on charges?” For a fourth time, Murphy shook his head. His hands encircled her wrists as he pulled her closer. “No, Edie. You won’t. And I won’t let you go through the Surge awake. Not alone.”

  She could have taken him down with a few well-executed moves, no matter how much bigger he was. Or stronger. They’d worked out together often enough she knew his strengths and weaknesses.

  But he knew hers, too.

  When he kissed her again, his hand moved over her body to undo the stick-seam closing the front of her sleep suit. It parted under his fingers. When his bare skin touched hers, Darowish shuddered at the wanting she’d been pushing aside for so long. When his hand moved over her belly and down to the heat between her thighs, she put her hand over his wrist to stop him.

  But again, Murphy disobeyed her. His fingers slid along her curls and inside her before she could more than murmur his name. Wet with her arousal, his finger stroked her clitoris in small, tight circles. Her hand clamped on his wrist hard enough to grind the bones, but Murphy didn’t flinch. He didn’t stop, either.

  “I will not let you go through the Surge alone,” Murphy told her. “And I won’t spend the last thirty minutes of our lives wasting any more time.”

  Her bunk wasn’t as fancy as she could’ve had as the Gamma’s captain, but Darowish had never yearned for creature comforts. All she’d wanted was to command her ship, to earn the respect of her peers, to work hard. And to love Tynan Murphy. She’d only failed the last.

  She’d wanted this for so long the wanting had become as much a part of her as the mote in her eye, the length of her limbs, the number of her teeth. She’d wanted Murphy from the first moment she’d seen him, had slept with him as cadets in the academy and left him behind when her first chance at an off-world assignment meant she had to choose love or career.

  She hadn’t told him then why she’d been afraid to choose him, or why she’d been so cowardly she hadn’t told him she was going. And for years she hadn’t had to face that leaving him had been the worst mistake she’d ever made. Not until she was assigned the Gamma and the mission to the outer reaches of the sixth inhabited galaxy and Murphy had shown up on her crew list. Even then, she hadn’t told him. They’d worked together. Eaten side by side. Guided this ship through space and kept it safe from harm as best they could. And she’d never told him she was sorry she’d left him.

  Murphy stepped out of his sleep suit and didn’t wait for her to finish getting out of hers. He pushed her back onto the plain-sheeted bunk. His mouth moved on hers, then over her jaw. Down her neck. To the swell of her breasts, over nipples sensitized by his kiss. Over her belly. When he settled his mouth on her center, Darowish lifted her hips and pressed herself into his kiss. They didn’t have enough time for this, but she couldn’t give it up.

  His tongue slid along her skin. When he suckled gently at her clit, her body leaped. It surged. She bit her tongue at the thought and pushed away the knowledge they were reaching the Surge point. There’d be no turning back.

  When Murphy pushed a finger, then two inside her, curving them to find the sweet spot inside her, Darowish groaned. Her fingers fisted in the regulation-weight blanket, finding no purchase. She had to put them in his hair to find that, and Murphy had cut his hair too short.

  His mouth moved on her cunt as mercilessly as he’d kissed her minutes earlier. Her orgasm built without hesitation. It filled her, and then it emptied her, too.

  “Don’t wait.” She urged him with her hands and mouth to cover her with his body, clutched at his back and ass to hold him closer as their mouths met. She moaned at the taste of herself on his tongue. “Don’t wait any more.”

  They’d both waited too long. Now their time was short, but Ty was right. She didn’t want to spend her last conscious minutes with regrets.

  They weren’t Captain and Commander any longer. Not even Darowish and Murphy. She was Edie to him again, after all these years. She was Edie, and a woman in his arms.

  He slid inside her with a low cry she echoed before capturing his mouth. Their kiss was familiar, even after so long. His tongue stroked, his lips nibbled. His cock stretched her, and Edie clasped him tight.

  “Five minutes until Surge.” Gamma’s voice made the alarming words soothing.

  Ty’s broad shoulders tensed under her hands, but Edie urged him to keep moving. “Don’t stop.”

  “I won’t stop.” Ty kissed her again.

  “I love you, Ty,” she gasped out as orgasm swept her.

  “I’ve always loved you, Edie.”

  They didn’t have time to make it slow, or to bask in the afterglow. They barely had time to slip
back into their clothes and take their seats at the controls that would guide the Gamma home. In minutes the ship would hit the Surge. Their molecules would be disassembled and shot miles through space and put back together on the other side. Nobody had ever made it through awake and come out sane.

  Their chairs had always been next to each other, close enough for them to touch, but they never had. Not until now, when Ty leaned to kiss her as she punched in the final coordinates that would keep them safe.

  Lost in pleasure as the ship leaped, Edie didn’t notice the darkness. There was no pain. She and Ty were in each other’s arms, and they merged. Joined. No more waiting, they were together at last.

  Forever.

  “Gruesome,” Ty said into the phone. “They didn’t make it through the Surge? They got all . . . mashed up together, or what?”

  Edie laughed. “That’s up to the reader to decide.”

  “I’m the reader. I say they got out of it alive.” Ty lay back on his bed to stare at the dark ceiling. It was late and he was tired, but he’d held onto the anticipation of this conversation for hours.

  “Okay. And then what happened?”

  “You’re the storyteller, babe.”

  Edie sighed into the phone. “But I like to hear you talk, Ty. I like the sound of your voice.”

  “I can talk about a lot of things.” He stretched out a hand to the unseen above, wishing she were close enough to touch. Soon. Not soon enough.

  “I know you can.” Her low chuckle crept over him and tickled the back of his neck.

  So they talked. For an hour, then longer. It beat the hell out of typed conversations, some of which in the past he’d had to manage with only one hand. It was easier on the phone, sexier when he could hear the sound of her breathing shift instead of only imagining it.

  “I wish you were touching me,” Edie murmured.

  “Close your eyes. I am touching you.”

  He knew she liked him to talk, though just as he claimed to be better with drawing than writing, so he’d said the same about speaking. But because he knew she liked it, hell, needed it, Ty was willing to make the effort.

  “Where?”

  “All over.”

  “Ty.” Edie gave an exasperated sigh.

  He laughed. “Your hips. I’m touching your hips.”

  Her sigh sounded more contented this time. “Mmm. Go on.”

  He spoke. She listened. He tried to weave a picture with his words and he must have done a fairly decent job, because after a while he heard the pattern of her breathing change. Heard her low moan. If he strained his ears, Ty could hear the shush and shuffle of her body moving against her sheets.

  His own hand moved on his prick, up and down. He stopped for a minute to add a palmful of lube, and Edie murmured encouragement. She was close, she said. Was he?

  “I’m close, babe. Thinking about you.” He cradled the phone against his shoulder so he could use both hands, one on his cock and the other on his balls. It took some work to imagine the press and squeeze of his palm as Edie’s body, but he was trying his best.

  When they made love, Ty liked to wait for Edie to finish first, sometimes more than once. He’d never been with a woman whose body responded so well to his. The fact she could come two or three times seemed like a miracle to him, a gift he wasn’t stupid enough to take credit for. But on the phone, without being able to see and touch her, Ty could concentrate on his own pleasure and know she would get hers, too. Her hand never faltered on her body the way his sometimes did.

  “Are you close?” She asked in a low, sweet purr that told him she’d come and was waiting for him, maybe still toying with herself the way he knew she liked. Trying for round two.

  “Close.” It was harder to talk now, not because he had no words but because forming them took too much effort.

  Ty, fist slick, pumped his cock slowly, then faster. His back arched a little, head pressing into the pillow, and he closed his eyes. He had a stable of stock fantasies to call on during times like this, when the sound of her voice was enough to tease and tantalize but he wanted more. He thought about Edie and the first time he’d seen her for real, not a photo on a website or an icon on the message board.

  Edie Darowish, for real. They’d talked for months online and a few times on the phone, business at first and later . . . pleasure. But the first time he saw her he hadn’t been sure what he’d think when faced with the real woman. The meeting had been set up for them to talk about the Runner graphic novels, and though they’d been flirting online, Ty wasn’t willing to bet Edie felt about him the way he’d started feeling about her.

  Until he saw her for the first time.

  She’d worn a simple dress patterned with flowers and low sandals that showed off her long, tanned legs. Her long blond hair had fallen over her shoulders, begging him to touch it,and at her throat, the scarf, a wispy scrap of sheer yellow. Later, he learned it was silk. He’d come from snow-covered and frigid Maine to California, but the sunshine he most remembered hadn’t come from the sky. It had been in the sight of Edie’s scarf.

  It still smelled of her when he drew it across his nose now, and whether it was because he made her wear it sometimes when they were together, or because he only imagined it, Ty didn’t care. He buried his face in the silk, imagining it was her skin. His fist slid along his cock, palming the head and down, and his balls tightened.

  “Oh, Ty, I’m going to . . . I’m . . .” Edie’s small cry sounded through the phone’s earpiece.

  Ty couldn’t speak. His orgasm jetted from him and all he could manage was a strangled, muffled moan. The scarf brushed his face as the phone slipped sideways into the pillows. Heat and pleasure shot from his balls and out his prick, and he fell back, spent.

  “Ty?”

  A minute had passed and he realized Edie was still on the line. “Yeah, babe.”

  She laughed, low and sweet. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too.” He yawned and tucked the scarf back into his nightstand drawer, then reached for the box of tissues to handle cleanup.

  “You know I’m not really into the whole Valentine’s Day thing. . . .”

  He laughed. “Riiiiight. This from the woman who wrote an entire story arc around Cupid?”

  It had been three of the most popular episodes and had directly affected the first graphic novel he’d been contracted to draw. Ty knew how Edie felt about Valentine’s Day. Nonchalant didn’t describe it.

  “Well, I’m just saying that I understand if this year it’s not as extravagant. Since we’ll have just moved into the new place and all. And if you don’t sell your house . . .”

  “Babe. Don’t worry. I have buyers coming tomorrow, and a nice royalty check coming, according to my agent.” Ty yawned again, bone-crackingly. “We’ll be together on V-Day this year, and we’ll celebrate it. I promise.”

  Neither had planned the move to coincide with the lovers’ holiday. It had just worked out with Runner’s shooting schedule. The people they’d bought the house from had been able to move out earlier than expected, too, which meant Ty and Edie could take ownership before they’d thought possible.

  “Valentine’s Day together. Oh, mmmm.” Edie made what Ty always thought of as one of her “yummy” sounds. “I can’t wait. I wish we had a time machine so we could just skip ahead.”

  He didn’t want to fall asleep on the phone, no matter how much he wanted to drift off to dreams with her voice in his ear. “Me, too. Babe . . . I gotta get to sleep.”

  “I know you do. Sleep tight, honey.”

  “You, too.”

  Ty thumbed off the phone and turned on his side, facing the empty spot where Edie would have been—and would be, in just another week.

  We could get there by time machine.

  In it, we could skip the days ahead. Inside, not even minutes would pass. Outside, all the hours keeping us apart would vanish as if they’d never existed. And when we reached our destination, we could take out the key and thro
w it away and stay there, just like that, while time passed us by and the world moved around us, but we stayed the same.

  I have some bad news. Call me.

  Edie’s smile at Ty’s latest addition to their fanciful game faded. Bad news? What bad news? Her finger was already stabbing the numbers on the phone. Whatever it was, it had happened hours ago, before she woke and had time to get onto her computer.

  Outside her door, people carrying boxes and pushing trolleys loaded with more boxes passed. The entire office was abustle with the move, some of the staff packing up entirely and others staying behind. Still more were trying to prep rooms for the incoming group who’d be taking over the space. She’d spent the last four years in this place, with these people. She’d been so focused on getting out of here to be with Ty, she’d been ignoring what she was leaving behind.

  Edie pressed the phone to her ear and turned from the door, not wanting to give in to the sudden waves of melancholy and anxiety. Bad news from Ty was bad enough, without her getting all fertootzed about the move, too.

  He wasn’t answering, and Edie checked the time. Early morning for her, just before lunch for him. Ty worked from home and always had his cell phone with him. Where was he?

  She’d logged in to her instant message program first thing, but his name was grayed out. She typed in a quick message, anyway. He didn’t answer that, either, not even when she buzzed him.

  What could the bad news be? How bad could it be? Her mind whirled with a thousand possibilities, each worse than the last, and Edie cursed her overactive imagination. She tried to focus on the work, instead. Her phone rang as she was halfway through a scene she’d been halfway through for an hour.

  Edie, who’d been looking at the screen but not really seeing the words, flipped open her phone and replied before Ty could even speak. “Are you all right?”