Chapter 12: The Hangar Office
The door clicked shut and the world collapsed to the size of a single room.
The tarmac noise died to a distant murmur, muffled by steel and concrete, and then there was only the sound of their breathing—hers quick and shallow, his steady but labored from the run across the flight line. The office smelled like old leather and jet fuel, the same scent that clung to Leo's skin, and Luna drank it in as he backed her against the wall.
Her spine met cold plaster. She gasped.
Then his mouth was on hers.
The kiss wasn't gentle. It wasn't tentative or questioning or any of the things first kisses were supposed to be. This was five days of separation and a week of wondering and a lifetime of loneliness all crashing together at once, and Luna poured every ounce of it into the way she pulled him closer.
Her fingers found the zipper of his flight suit before her brain caught up. She tugged it down, metal teeth separating with a harsh rasp, and shoved the fabric off his shoulders. It pooled at his elbows, and then his arms were free and his hands were everywhere.
One palm flattened against the small of her back, pressing her into him. The other slid lower, under the hem of her sundress, and she felt the rough warmth of his fingers against her bare skin.
He gripped her ass and squeezed.
Luna moaned into his mouth.
"You have no idea," he breathed against her lips, "how long I've been thinking about this."
"Five days?"
"Try since the moment you walked out of that bar."
His mouth moved to her jaw, her throat, the sensitive spot behind her ear that made her knees buckle. She was wearing the white sundress—the one she'd chosen specifically because he'd mentioned liking white on her—and she was suddenly grateful for the easy access as his hands pushed the fabric higher.
Beneath his flight suit, he wore only a thin undershirt. She tugged at it, desperate for skin, and he helped her pull it over his head. Then her palms were flat against his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle, the ridges of his abs, the faint scars she'd noticed before but never asked about.
He was so warm. So solid. So real.
"I missed you," she said, and the words came out broken, honest in a way she rarely allowed herself to be.
Leo pulled back just enough to look at her. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, but there was something soft underneath the heat.
"I missed you too, Luna."
And then he was kissing her again, and she stopped thinking.
Her hands slid down his stomach, past the waistband of his boxers, and found him. He was already hard, thick and heavy in her palm, and Leo groaned against her mouth when she wrapped her fingers around him.
"Fuck," he whispered.
Luna smiled. She liked this—liked the power of making him come undone, liked knowing that she could affect him the same way he affected her.
She pushed his flight suit and boxers down his hips, just enough to free him, and then she dropped to her knees.
The concrete floor was cold against her bare legs, but she barely noticed. She was too focused on the way Leo was looking at her—like she was something precious, something sacred, even as she knelt before him with her pink hair spilling over her shoulders and her lips parted.
"Luna," he started, but she didn't let him finish.
She took him in her mouth.
He was big—bigger than she remembered, or maybe she'd just forgotten—and she had to work to take him deep. But she wanted to. She wanted to feel him hit the back of her throat, wanted to hear the sounds he made when she swallowed around him.
Leo's hand found her hair. He didn't push or guide, just held on, fingers tangled in pink strands, and let her set the pace.
"God, you look so good like this," he breathed. "Kneeling in your dress for me. Fuck, Luna."
She looked up at him through her lashes. His head was thrown back, jaw tight, neck corded with tension. Sweat gleamed on his chest. He was beautiful, and he was hers, and the thought sent a thrill through her that had nothing to do with the physical.
She hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder.
"Shit—Luna, I'm—"
She didn't pull away. She wanted this. Wanted to taste him, wanted to swallow him down and know that she'd done that to him.
He came with a groan that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest, and she took every drop, swallowing until he was spent and trembling.
When she finally pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Leo was staring at her like she'd just performed a miracle.
"Where did you learn to do that?" he asked, voice hoarse.
Luna shrugged, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I have hobbies."
He laughed—a real laugh, surprised and delighted—and then he was pulling her to her feet and kissing her again, deeper this time, like he wanted to taste himself on her tongue.
"I need to be inside you," he said against her mouth. "Right now."
He lifted her like she weighed nothing, hands gripping her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his waist. The desk was close and he set her down on the edge of it, scattering papers and knocking over a coffee mug that rolled off the edge and shattered on the floor.
Neither of them cared.
Leo knelt between her legs.
He pushed the hem of her sundress up, up, up, and then he stopped.
"Jesus Christ," he whispered.
Luna felt her cheeks flush. She'd chosen these panties this morning—pink and black lace, delicate and revealing, the kind of thing she never would have worn before him—and she'd hoped. God, she'd hoped.
"You like them?" she asked, aiming for coy and landing somewhere closer to breathless.
Leo's eyes met hers. "I love them. I love that you wore them for me."
"I hoped something like this would happen."
"Something like what?" His fingers traced the edge of the lace, feather-light. "This?"
She shivered. "Yes."
"Or this?"
He hooked a finger under the fabric and pulled it aside, exposing her to the cool air and his hungry gaze. She was already wet—had been since the moment she saw his jet tear across the sky—and she knew he could see it, could see how ready she was for him.
"Leo," she breathed.
"I've got you."
And then his mouth was on her.
Luna's hands flew to his hair, fingers twisting in the short strands as his tongue found her clit. She cried out, a sound that echoed off the walls of the small office, and then clapped a hand over her own mouth because oh god, they were on a military base, and her father was somewhere outside, and—
Leo hummed against her, the vibration sending sparks up her spine, and she stopped caring about anything except the feeling of his mouth on her.
He licked and sucked and teased, working her with a skill that made her dizzy. When he slid one finger inside her, then two, she arched off the desk, back bowing, and had to bite down on her own hand to keep from screaming.
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured against her thigh. "So wet for me. So perfect."
"Please," she gasped. "Leo, please."
"Please what?"
"Please don't stop. Don't ever stop."
He didn't.
His tongue speared into her, curling against that spot inside her that made her see stars, while his thumb pressed circles against her clit. The combination was devastating, and she felt the orgasm building like a wave, cresting higher and higher with each passing second.
"I'm going to—" she started.
"Come for me," he said. "Let me feel you."
And she did.
The pleasure crashed over her in waves, her body convulsing around his fingers, her thighs clamping around his head. She moaned his name—loud, dirty, romantic—words spilling from her lips without filter or shame.
"You're everything," she heard herself say. "Everything, Leo, I—"
He worked her through it, gentle now, until the aftershocks faded and she collapsed against the desk, chest heaving, legs trembling.
When he finally pulled away, his mouth was slick and his eyes were wild, and she'd never wanted anyone the way she wanted him in that moment.
"Fuck," she said, because there were no other words.
Leo stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand, and looked down at her with an expression that was equal parts hunger and tenderness.
"I'm not done with you yet," he said.
Luna's heart stuttered. "You're not?"
"I've been waiting five days to touch you. I'm not stopping until you can't walk straight."
He reached down and pulled her to her feet, then spun her around so she was facing the desk. His hands found the zipper of her dress—the one at the back that she'd needed Priya's help with this morning—and pulled it down in one smooth motion.
The dress pooled at her feet.
She stood before him in nothing but her pink lace panties and her white socks and trainers, and she felt no shame. Not with him. Not when he was looking at her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
Leo stepped out of his flight suit and boxers, kicking them aside, and then he was behind her, his chest pressing against her back, his cock hard against her ass.
"Bend over," he said.
She did.
The desk was cool beneath her hands, the surface slick with scattered papers. She heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper—he must have grabbed one from somewhere, maybe his pocket-and then his hands were on her hips, positioning her.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yes."
He pushed inside her slowly, inch by inch, and Luna's breath caught in her throat. He was thick, stretching her, filling her in a way that made her feel complete. When he was fully seated, he paused, letting her adjust, and she felt him press a kiss to her shoulder blade.
"You okay?"
"More than okay," she managed. "Move."
He did.
The first thrust was gentle, testing. The second was harder. By the third, he was fucking her in earnest, one hand fisted in her pink hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave bruises.
The desk creaked beneath them. Papers scattered. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Luna knew they were being loud, knew the walls were thin, knew her father was probably somewhere close enough to hear if he was listening.
She didn't care.
"Leo," she gasped. "Oh god, Leo."
"That's it," he growled. "Say my name. Let everyone know who's making you feel this good."
"You. Only you."
He drove into her harder, faster, and she felt another orgasm building—impossible, she'd just come, but her body was greedy for him.
"I want to feel you come on my cock," he said. "Can you do that for me?"
"Yes. Yes. Don't stop."
He didn't.
His hand left her hip and slid around to her front, fingers finding her clit, rubbing in tight circles that made her vision white out at the edges. She was so close, so close, and then his teeth found her shoulder, biting down, and she shattered.
Her orgasm ripped through her like lightning, leaving her shaking and crying out his name. Leo followed a heartbeat later, hips stuttering, a muffled groan pressed against her back as he emptied himself inside her.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then Leo pulled out slowly, and Luna felt the loss like a physical blow. Her legs gave out, and she slid to the floor, boneless and trembling.
Leo sank down beside her, and they sat there together, backs against the desk, her dress bunched around her waist and his clothes somewhere across the room. The absurdity of it hit her all at once—a decorated Air Force pilot and a pink-haired egirl, half-naked on the floor of a base office—and she started to laugh.
Leo joined her.
It was breathless and giddy and more than a little hysterical, and by the time they finally stopped, Luna's cheeks hurt from smiling.
"We should probably clean up," she said, gesturing at the shattered coffee mug and the scattered papers.
"Probably." He didn't move.
"The floor is cold."
"I know."
"My dad is probably looking for me."
"Yeah."
She turned to look at him. He was already looking at her, his expression soft in a way she'd never seen before—open and vulnerable and full of something she was too afraid to name.
"Luna," he said, and reached for her hand.
She let him take it.
"I meant what I said," he told her. "I'm not going anywhere."
She swallowed hard. "You don't have to promise me that."
"I know. I want to."
"Leo—"
"I know what happened to you before. The guy who used you and dropped you. I know it made you scared, and I know you have every reason to be cautious. But I'm not him, Luna. I'm not going to get bored of you and move on. I'm not going to hurt you."
Her eyes burned. "How can you know that?"
"Because I've been with a lot of women," he said, without an ounce of shame. "And none of them made me feel the way you do. None of them made me laugh like you do. None of them made me want to be better."
She didn't know what to say. So she said nothing, just leaned her head against his shoulder and let herself breathe.
He kissed her forehead.
"Come on," he said. "Let's get you dressed before someone walks in."
He helped her up and retrieved her dress, helping her step into it and zipping it back up—a mirror of that first night, the morning after, when he'd done the same thing in his room.
She pulled her trainers back on while he dressed, and they did their best to clean up the office, gathering scattered papers and throwing the broken mug in the trash.
"Good as new," Leo said.
Luna snorted. "It looks like a tornado hit it."
"A very sexy tornado."
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
He reached for her hand, and she let him. They stood there for a moment, fingers interlaced, and Luna felt something shift in her chest. Something warm and terrifying and wonderful.
"Ready?" he asked.
She wasn't. Not for what was waiting outside—her father, her mother, the knowing looks from the squadron. Not for the questions and the speculation and the way this would change everything.
But she would never be ready. That was the point.
"Ready," she said.
Leo kissed her once more—soft, sweet, a promise—and then he opened the door.
The tarmac was bathed in golden afternoon light, and the roar of a distant jet engine shook the air. Luna stepped outside, still holding Leo's hand, and for a moment, she felt like she could fly.