Chapter Six
Nora woke to the low, endless roar of wind and the solid warmth pressed against her back.
For a moment, she didn’t remember where she was.
Then the dull ache between her legs registered, followed by the sticky evidence of what he’d left inside her.
Knox’s arm was heavy across her waist, his chest pressed to her spine.
The narrow bunk still smelled of sex, clean skin, and the faint antiseptic that never left the medical wing.
She shifted carefully. Sore muscles protested, reminding her how thoroughly she’d been stretched and filled just hours before.
Outside the small window, the sky was a flat, storm-darkened grey.
The station was quiet now—no alarms, no running boots—but the silence felt heavier than the earlier chaos.
The outer doors were still sealed; the avalanche and structural stress had seen to that.
Knox’s breathing shifted. She sensed him waking without needing to look.
“How long was I out?” she asked, her voice rough.
“Four hours. The station is stable. Power and heat are holding. We’re still under full isolation—command estimates another ten to fourteen days before it’s safe for anyone to move outside.”
Nora stared at the wall—ten to fourteen more days. Locked in and already claimed.
She turned in his arm to see his face. Sleep had softened some of his sharper edges, but his pale eyes were clear and assessing as soon as they opened. He looked at her the way he always had—like she was both patient and possession.
“We should talk about what this is now,” she said quietly.
Knox’s hand settled at the small of her back, fingers spreading over bare skin. He studied her for a moment before he answered.
“I’m not looking for a girlfriend, Nora.
I’m committed to this station and the work.
That doesn’t change because I slept with you.
” His voice was calm and direct. “What I’m offering is simple.
Daily stretching. Daily fucking. I’ll come inside you every day until the doors open.
If something is genuinely too much, you’ll tell me, and I’ll adjust. Otherwise, you’ll be in my bed and under my hands.
No romance. No expectations beyond the lockdown. Clear?”
Nora’s mouth curved. She shifted under his hand, letting the sheet slip lower.
“So I’m just the daily protocol now?” she teased, voice light. “No flowers, no sweet talk—just you stretching me open and filling me until the weather clears?”
"Exactly."
She held his gaze, flirtation lingering but steady. “Good. I was never very interested in flowers anyway.” She reached up and traced a single fingertip down the center of his chest. “Daily works for me. Just don’t expect me to be quiet about it.”
Something dark and satisfied flickered in his expression. He caught her wrist, pinned it to the mattress, and kissed her once—deliberate, without softness—before sitting up.
"Then we start the new protocol properly. Medical bay. Now."
The corridor was cold. Nora walked beside him, wearing only his discarded shirt; the hem reached mid-thigh and still smelled of him.
A couple of researchers passed at the far junction and nodded without comment.
Full isolation had thinned personal boundaries; no one asked why the newest assistant was leaving the physician’s quarters at midday.
The medical bay was quiet and brightly lit. Knox locked the door, flipped on the examination table’s overhead lamp, and pointed to it.
"Lie down. Legs open."
Nora obeyed, slowly, watching him as she settled back and let her knees fall apart. “You know,” she said, “for someone who doesn’t want a girlfriend, you look awfully interested in what’s between my legs.”
"I am interested," he replied evenly. "I’m just not confused about what it means."
He moved between her legs, placing both hands on her inner thighs, spreading her wider. He examined the evidence of the night before—the slight swelling, the residual slickness mixed with his come—with open possession.
"Sore?"
"Mmm. In the best way." Her voice stayed playful, even as her breath hitched when his thumbs brushed higher. "You going to make it worse?"
"Yes."
He started slowly—two fingers first, working into her with careful pressure, spreading and curling until the residual tightness eased. Nora’s light tone broke into a soft moan. He added a third finger, scissoring gently, watching her face as the wet sounds filled the quiet bay.
"Louder," he said. "I want to hear how it feels."
She stopped trying to stay composed. Soft moans became open ones as he worked her with deliberate patience, occasionally brushing her clit with his thumb just enough to keep her on edge. When he finally withdrew his fingers, she was dripping and restless.
"Still think I’m only interested in the protocol?" he asked, voice low.
Nora’s smile was breathless. "I think you should stop talking and put it in me."
Knox freed himself from his pants and stroked his thick length once. He notched against her entrance and pushed in at a controlled pace—inch by inch, giving her body time to accept the girth again. Nora’s head tipped back against the table. A long, shaky moan escaped her as he sank deeper.
"That’s it. Take it."
He bottomed out and held there, fully seated, letting her feel the full stretch.
The position on the examination table kept her open and slightly elevated.
When he began to move, it was slower than the urgent fucking of the emergency—long, thorough strokes that dragged against every sensitive place inside her.
Nora moaned freely now, earlier flirtation dissolving into raw sound. Knox kept the rhythm steady, hands locked on her hips, eyes fixed on the place where he disappeared into her.
"You feel how open you are for me already?" he asked. "A few more days of this and you’ll take me without any resistance at all."
"Yes—don’t stop—"
Knox didn’t.
He shifted his grip on her hips, pulled her closer to the edge of the examination table, and drove into her with longer, heavier strokes.
The new angle made every thrust deeper. Nora’s mouth fell open on a loud, unbroken moan.
The wet sound of him moving inside her filled the quiet medical bay, undercut only by the distant roar of wind against the sealed walls.
"Fuck—Knox—"
"I know." His voice was rough, controlled only by force of will. "Take it. Let me hear you."
She stopped holding anything back. Each time he bottomed out, she cried out—open, helpless sounds that sharpened as he kept the steady, thorough pace.
The stretch never fully eased; he was still thick enough that her body had to yield around him on every stroke.
The sensation bordered on too much and still wasn’t enough.
"Harder," she managed between moans. "Please—"
He gave it to her. The table creaked faintly under the force. Nora’s hands scrambled for purchase on the vinyl, then settled on his forearms, nails digging in as the first climax built with frightening speed—the pressure inside her coiling tighter and hotter until it snapped.
She came with a raw, broken cry, back arching off the table, walls clamping down hard around his cock in rhythmic pulses. Knox groaned and fucked her straight through it, never slowing, drawing the orgasm out until she was shaking, oversensitive, and still trying to take every inch.
He didn’t stop.
The second climb started almost immediately, even more intense than the first. Nora’s moans became short, desperate sounds.
She could feel how open she was now—how easily he slid to the hilt, how her body had already started to adjust to being used like this every day. The knowledge itself pushed her higher.
"I’m—going to come again—"
"Do it," he ordered. "Squeeze me while you do."
The second orgasm hit harder. It tore a louder cry from her throat and locked her muscles tight around him.
The rhythmic pulsing of her release pulled him over the edge.
Knox drove in as deep as he could go and came with a rough, punctuated groan, cock throbbing as he emptied into her in long, hot spurts.
She felt every pulse, the warm flood of him, the complete claim of it.
He stayed buried to the hilt while both of them fought for breath.
Nora’s legs trembled on either side of his hips.
The overhead lamp still shone bright and clinical across their joined bodies.
Outside, the wind continued its relentless assault on the sealed station.
Inside the locked medical bay, the only sounds left were their breathing and the faint, wet evidence of what he had just left inside her.
When he finally withdrew, the slow slide made her whimper.
She felt the immediate warm seep of his release and the deep, residual throb of being thoroughly stretched and filled.
Knox cleaned her with surprising care—warm cloth, steady hands—then helped her sit up on the edge of the table.
His hand lingered at the side of her neck, thumb brushing once over her pulse.
"Same time tomorrow," he said, voice still rough. "And the day after. And every day until the doors open. Nothing more than that."
Nora’s smile returned, softer now but still edged with light provocation. Her body felt well-used and already faintly hungry for the next time.
"I’ll be here," she said. "Try not to miss me too much between sessions, Doctor."
He didn’t smile, but the heat that remained in his eyes said enough. The lockdown stretched ahead of them, and the new protocol was properly sealed.