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The echo of the corridor feels impossibly loud against their hushed breaths. Lunamaria presses Agnes flat against the cool wall of a service alcove. Her hips roll, a slow, deliberate friction that has Agnes biting her lip to stifle a whimper.
"Shh," Lunamaria whispers, her voice a low flame against Agnes' ear. "Someone will hear."
The threat is a promise. Footsteps echo from the main passageway- clunky regulation boots on the plating, a maintenance crew member returning to their bunks. They don't slow, don't even falter. The rhythmic tread is a metronome, and Lunamaria's thumb finds the slick heat between Agnes' thighs, pressing circles through the thin fabric of her panties. Each step from the unseen passerby is a jolt straight to Agnes' core, a thrill that makes her head spin.
The footsteps recede, leaving a silence more charged than before. Agnes grabs Lunamaria's collar, pulling her into a desperate, messy kiss. The risk only sharpens her need. She needs this, needs her, here, with the world just feet away, oblivious to the fire they've started. Agnes breaks the kiss, her gasp a plea. "Faster."
A hungry grin stretches Lunamaria’s lips, and she obliges. She hooks a finger beneath the soaked fabric, delving into Agnes' slick heat without preamble. Agnes bucks against her hand, a delicious counterpoint to the skillful strokes of Lunamaria's fingers. She muffles her cry against Lunamaria’s shoulder, body trembling as waves of pleasure crash through her, leaving her breathless and trembling, held safely by the one who knows exactly how to break her.
Slowly, Agnes comes back to herself, awareness of the world seeping in. She lifts her head, meeting the satisfied, predatory gleam in Lunamaria's eyes. With a smirk, Agnes pushes off the wall, flipping their positions. Now, it's her turn to taste the thrill.