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Ciaran’s grin widens, a flash of smug satisfaction crossing his features. “I know how to make an impression, mouse.”

The shuttle door seals behind us with a heavy hiss before either of us can say anything else. The cabin lights soften as the pilot’s voice filters through the speakers overhead. A few minutes later, we’re strapped into our seats, lifting smoothly away from Düren.

Below us, the city shrinks, and above us, the stars wait.

The moment the seatbelt indicator disappears, Ciaran is already unfastening his restraints. “Come here.”

I don’t even pretend to argue anymore. He catches my hand, pulling me toward the observation window stretching along the side of the cabin.

My breath catches when I see the stars explode across the glass. For a moment, neither of us speaks, watching Düren shrink into darkness while the lights of Sero burn in the distance ahead. Beyond them, worlds scatter across the Reach, trade routes and station lights threading between planets like distant constellations.

The Noctis is secured against the far wall beneath soft cabin lights.

Ciaran’s hand never leaves mine. We’re both still dressed from dinner, his dark button- down open at the throat and rolled to his forearms. My jacket hangs open now, the warmth of the shuttle a welcome contrast to the evening air we left behind.

He shifts closer until our shoulders brush, his gaze drifting across the stars beyond the glass. “You know, when I was young, I used to think the stars were holes in the sky.”

I turn to him in surprise. “Holes? Why?”

He shrugs. “I thought that’s where the people we’d lost were looking through.”

“So we’d never really be alone?” Sometimes I forget how soft he can be when nobody else is looking.

“I guess. So we’d always have someone looking back.” His arm finds my waist, keeping me close while his gaze stays fixed on the stars. “I used to think every light out there belonged to someone. Every world was somebody’s home. Turns out I wasn’t so far off.”

Below us, Düren has almost disappeared.

Fear taught me where all the exits were, I think, watching the last of it go. He’s the first person who ever made me want to stay.

My fingers find his. “And which one is yours?”

His hand closes around mine. “You.”

He leans in, his heavy frame crowding my back against the observation glass. His lips find the curve of my neck, pressing a slow kiss there before his teeth graze my skin.

“And which one is yours?” he murmurs against my flesh, sending a shiver through my spine.

“For years…” I whisper, “I thought it was Sola. Then it became music. A life I didn’t think I’d ever have. Now…”

He reaches around to grip my jaw, easing my face back toward the stars.

“Keep talking,” he murmurs. “Tell me about the lights while I take you.”

My breath catches. “Now it’s you. Somehow... somewhere along the way... every road I imagined ended with you.”

“Good boy,” he purrs, and I can barely find my breath, let alone the words, as he reaches around my hip to undo my fastening. Working down my zipper with practiced efficiency, he tugs my dress pants down just far enough, liberating my stiff length into the cool air of the cabin.

“Wait. People… they can see us.”

“I don’t care,” he growls, opening his palm next to me. “Spit, mouse.”

I obey, overwhelmed by his hoarse voice and the excitement of what’s about to happen.

On a space shuttle of all places.

“Continue talking.” His teeth graze my jawline, and I moan when his slicked hand wraps around my cock. “Tell me what you see when you think about tomorrow.”

“A… a house, too big because you’ll keep bringing people home,” I gasp, my hips rolling into his palm as the friction sends a sharp jolt of heat straight to my gut. I lean my forehead against the cool observation glass, watching our blurred reflections tangle against the backdrop of the stars. “You stealing my side of the bed.”