Rings of Saturn

Frankie laid Red down on the crash couch, the white sheets on the mattress like the surface of an ice moon.

She sank into the cushions, hair fanning out like a nebula.

-We’re entering the rings, he whispered. Visibility is zero.

Red reached up. She pulled his collar. A release valve.

-Forget visibility, she murmured. Fly by instrument.

She pulled him down.

-I see proximity alarms, she mumbled in the dark room. Collision warnings.

Frankie kissed her neck.

-Turbulence, he noted against her skin.

-Ride it out, Captain, she gasped. Don't you dare eject.

The clothes came off. Spacesuits discarded for the final maneuver.

A frantic, desperate docking procedure in the middle of an asteroid field.

Frankie held her hips. She arched her back, meeting him.

-Hull breach, she cried out, her voice ragged. Shields are down.

-Holding course, Frankie gritted out.

They moved together. The bed creaked, the ship groaning under the G-force.

Red’s nails dug into his shoulders.

-Frankie, she breathed. Captain.

He buried his face in her hair.

-I’ve got you, he whispered.

The climax hit them like a shockwave.

Red cried out, a sound that echoed in the small room. Frankie collapsed against her, the engines finally cutting out. Drifting.

Silence returned to the Astrometrics Bay.

They lay there, tangled in the sheets.

Red traced a line down his chest.

-Nice flying, Captain, she whispered. We cleared the field.

Frankie closed his eyes. The room was spinning gently.

-Orbit achieved, he murmured.