Chapter Seven
By the fifth day of full isolation, every day began to feel the same under the closed-up sky. The wind never stopped. The outer doors remained sealed.
Mornings in the medical bay became the one thing Nora could count on.
Knox didn’t bother pretending it was therapy anymore.
He just locked the door, told her to get on the table or his bunk, and had his way with her.
Sometimes he took his time—fingers working her until she was begging.
Other times, he was already hard and inside her before she could catch her breath, the wind still howling outside like always.
She got to know him by touch, figuring out how her body needed to move to take him.
She learned what angle made her lose control the fastest. She figured out he liked it when she was noisy, and that the locked door was all the privacy they’d ever get here, since everyone else had enough of their own problems to mind.
On the fifth day, a tech named Reyes stopped outside the medical bay while Nora was still there, flushed and a mess, waiting for Knox to finish typing in some fake note about a “joint mobility assessment.” Reyes checked the time, looked at Nora—who was a bit wobbly—and raised his eyebrows.
“That must be some thorough protocol,” Reyes said.
Nora met his eyes and gave a small, unapologetic shrug. “Doctor’s orders.”
Reyes just snorted and kept walking. But it stuck with her: this place was too small to keep secrets for long, especially now that Knox was locking the door sooner and keeping her in there longer.
By the seventh day, things had changed even more. Nora didn’t wait for him to call her anymore. She showed up at the usual time, already turned on, and sometimes she was the first to say something.
"I need you," she told him one afternoon, her voice low but steady. "Don’t make me wait with your fingers today."
Knox stared at her for a long second, eyes going dark. Then he pointed at the floor in front of him.
"On your knees first," he said.
Nora’s heart sped up. She’d thought about this before—what it would feel like to have him in her mouth—but never done it. She dropped to her knees on the cold floor. He pulled himself out, already hard, and pressed against her lips.
"Open up," he said.
She did. He tasted like skin and salt and something hot. He was bigger than she’d expected; her jaw had to stretch just to take a little. Knox put his hand in her hair—not pushing, just showing her what to do.
"Keep your tongue flat. Breathe through your nose. Take what you can," he told her.
She listened, pushing herself a little farther even though her eyes watered. He gave her quick, simple tips—how to use her hand, how to hollow her cheeks, how to look up at him while she did it. Every time she managed to take more, he made a noise that went right through her.
"That’s it," he said. "Good. Do it again."
Nora kept going, getting more confident as she did. The ache in her jaw reminded her of everything he’d taught her body to take. When he finally pulled her off, she was breathing hard, lips puffy and chin messy.
"Get on the table," he said. "On your back. Spread your legs."
She obeyed, lying back on the table and letting her knees fall open.
Knox moved between her thighs and slid three fingers into her, slow and steady. Nora tipped her head back as she felt the stretch. He moved his fingers just right, making her hips move up to meet him. Then he added a fourth, and it burned, but she couldn’t help but take it.
"That’s it," he murmured. "Open up for me."
He kept at it for a long time—fingers deep, thumb moving over her clit until she was shaking and soaked, the sound loud in the quiet room. He only stopped when she was nonstop moaning, legs shaking.
He notched the thick head of his cock against her and pushed in with one long, controlled thrust. Nora’s cry was sharp and open. The sudden fullness after the careful fingering made her arch hard.
Knox fucked her like that for a while—deep, thorough strokes on her back, hands locked on her hips, eyes fixed on the place where he disappeared into her. The first orgasm built steadily under the relentless pace. She came with a broken moan, walls fluttering around him, but he never slowed.
Just as she started to build again, he pulled out.
Before she could say anything, he flipped her over, pulled her hips up, and slid back in from behind in one move.
The new angle made her cry out louder. He felt even deeper this way—bigger, almost too much.
His hands gripped her waist tight as he started moving harder, hips smacking against her ass.
“Fuck—Knox—”
"Take it," he growled. "You’re already so open for me."
Nora braced herself on her arms, face pressed to the table, and pushed back to meet every thrust. The sound of skin on skin filled the room.
Every move hit where his fingers had already made her sensitive, turning the stretch into raw pleasure.
Her second orgasm hit even harder than the first; she cried out into the table, legs shaking, and he just kept going until she was spent.
He only slowed when she was whimpering from oversensitivity, still rocking back onto him because she could not stop.
Then his rhythm broke. He buried himself to the hilt, gripped her hips tight, and came with a deep, guttural groan, cock pulsing as he flooded her in long spurts.
Nora moaned at the heat of it, the complete claim, the way her body kept clenching around him as if it wanted every drop.
He stayed buried in her for a long moment, catching his breath, one hand stroking down her back while the rest of the station stayed quiet as ever.
Eventually, Knox pulled out. Nora felt the slow, warm drip and the deep ache from being used so well. He cleaned her up with the same careful touch as always, then helped her sit up on the edge of the table. His shirt was still on the chair where she’d left it; he handed it to her without a word.
She pulled it on. It smelled like him. Outside, the hallway was still empty. The wind kept blowing against the walls. Another day done, measured not by time but by how much he’d left her open.
Nora looked at him while she caught her breath. The old routine was gone. Now, it was simple: she came in, she asked, she did what he wanted, and she left the medical bay full of him. The station was still sealed. Nothing was changing. No one was going anywhere.
She slid off the table, legs a little shaky, and reached for the door.
"Same time tomorrow?" she asked, her voice lighter even though her body was still buzzing.
Knox looked her over, eyes dark and hard to read.
"Same time," he said. "Don’t be late."
Nora stepped out into the cold hallway, his taste still on her tongue and the ache between her legs proof of what they’d done. The lockdown kept going. So did she.