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In their last life together - Neo's second, her first - they'd never gotten beyond face-to-face, unable to tear their eyes from one another's as they fucked fast and desperately. There was never enough time, enough privacy, and they were still so new, always; they had to see into each other as they erupted in bliss. She was on top more often than not, loving the feeling of him splayed out beyond control or thought beneath her, giving himself over to her completely, whatever she wanted. But still, by the time they came, she'd be slumped over him, kissing madly, staring as far into his soul as she could.
Now, over a year into their new life, their status gives them all the time and all the privacy they could ask for. They're usually in Io now, planning and designing for their next trip into the Matrix. They've been given a living space much bigger than they need, with plenty of room for an office where they can work together and imagine together. It's more metal than rock, this new home, but still it's alive: their creativity, the greenery that flourishes under little grow lights, them; it's the place they've created together, unlike the old room in Zion that was hers long before it was his.
They have no schedule. They eschew meetings with leadership unless absolutely necessary, and no one would dare complain or command. They'll grow bored of it eventually, Trinity is sure. They'll want to get back to the old fight of freeing minds - already increased a hundredfold since their resurrection - and saving lives. For now, they've earned some degree of selfishness, and no one would deny them that. Even they won't deny themselves that.
So, they experiment. They have a setup in their office that allows them to explore possibilities in a private Construct without even jacking in; they can enter and exit with a thought, and they often do. But there's the other kind of experimentation, too. Their days and nights are filled with untamed images and, as time passes, ever more untamed real-life adventures that may or may not involve their bed.
Her first big discovery is that she loves to be up on her knees, sometimes, as he plows into her from behind. She goes mad then, feeling like the animal - "only human" - she still somehow is after all the machine intervention, grasping at the sheets or bracing a hand on the wall to keep from smashing her head into it as Neo growls, bites into her shoulder blade, digs his fingers roughly into the new, rounder hips that he loves so much.
Sometimes she'll bend over a table or a desk and let him take her the same way and that's when he turns into an animal, groaning and grunting and losing the ability to form words, not that he ever did form very many.
Sometimes they'll just sit, conjoined, his chest to her back as he holds her tight and they rock together, their orgasms building slowly, slowly.
Sometimes she likes to stretch languidly over his legs, giving him free rein over everything between her own, his penis in one hole and his fingers in the other as she writhes and gasps and howls. And sometimes she'll do him the same favor, making him come with just her fingertips anointing the little bundle of nerves inside him. He's quiet when she does that, awed and trembling and overwhelmed by the power she has over him. His brain, he tells her once when he's coherent again, short circuits at the sensation he'd never imagined in the Matrix, either time.
Trinity had imagined it. Trinity had offered, more than once, to take the man she didn't remember marrying to that same place. Somewhere inside she remembered a man who wanted her to have her way with him, though she thought they'd never done this exactly. The vague shape half-lost in her memory banks wanted to be anything and everything she needed, and would do anything she wanted. But the only response she received in nearly twenty years was a look of disgust. She understands why, now.
At some point, she and Neo discover the full-length mirror in their bedroom, designed for dressing but just as useful for other things. She loves to watch herself on his lap in a chair, wearing her legs out by spreading them wide and pumping up and down. Neo is too dazed and drunk with lust to pay attention to anything but her skin and her clit, but Trinity can't stop staring at how beautiful they are - sweaty, wild, one of his arms around her stomach and the other hand delightfully precise between her legs. In the mirror she can see those well-trained fingers - he always was good with his hands - and him sliding in and out each time she moves. She always wants to make it last, when it's like that, but she never can.
And now, sometimes - and this one is new - they replace the mirror with glass, the chair with standing, as the bio-sky of their new home and the lights of Io spread themselves wide for her. Again, Neo's too lost in her to notice the view, but Trinity loves it, loves feeling so exposed in a way she'd fantasized about for years - again with the man whose face she could never quite catch - but never bothered to suggest to the program that called itself her husband.
Their lives are an open book in Io, anyway. Everybody knows their story; everybody knows that Zion survived because of Neo's love for her. Despite, for the most part, keeping their hands to themselves in public, everybody seems to know they fuck every chance they get. If anyone happens to look at just the right window at just the right time, it hardly matters. Sixty years on - sixty years in the nightmare tower created to keep them heartbroken, to manipulate a few extra pulses of energy out of their bodies without allowing them to love or to make love - shame is not an emotion in their arsenal. But she loves the thought that even now, they could be putting on a show.
"Neo," she says, stilling for a moment to get his attention. He's inside her, hitting her own deep bundle of nerves with each thrust; her hands are flat on the floor-to-ceiling window to hold herself upright. "Look."
He stops, inhales, comes back to his senses. She sees his eyes reflected faintly in the glass, eyes she'd know anywhere but had forgotten for so long. He sighs, his breath warm on her neck.
"It's so beautiful," she says.
He shakes his head, his tongue darting out to taste her shoulder. "No. All I see is you, in the glass. All I want to see."
She sighs, letting her head fall back on his shoulder, and her eyes slip closed.
"I hope they look," Neo says. "I hope they all see how lucky I am."
"How lucky we are," she corrects him with a quiet laugh. She touches his hand where it lays on her mons, nudging him to worship her clit again just the way she likes, and comes before she can take another breath.
*
"He liked it on top, I bet," Neo said, not long after Trinity was unplugged from the new Matrix. She was straddling his hips on the bed while they came down, their fingers twisting together playfully, and they were in their second face-to-face phase. His eyes glittered. "I could tell just by looking at him."
"Mmm," she agreed. "I got my way when I wanted to, but it was never worth it. Most of the time I was too bored to care." It was obvious now, but she said it anyway: "Only humans can improvise."
"Programs are limited by their code," Neo added.
"They always did understand more about pain than pleasure." She'd only recently learned, at that point, that it had been six decades of pain. Maybe they were lucky not to remember being endlessly wrenched apart, cleaved in two time after time after time.
"The chess pieces tell you where to go."
"Through the Looking Glass." She smiled softly. "I used to read that to--" But she wasn't ready, then, to think that thought. She let it go.
Neo's eyes had darkened. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry I didn't find you sooner."
"You didn't find yourself sooner," she reminded him.
"Finding myself meant nothing until I found you."
Her heart thumped between her legs and she gasped, just at how much he loved her. They'd already had two delicious rounds of sex that day and neither had fully gotten their strength back since their return to the real world; Neo's eyelids were drooping with exhaustion but she knew he'd refuse to sleep until she was ready. She licked her lips, and he saw what she wanted in her eyes.
"Bet he didn't like this much, either," Neo said. With a smirk, he tugged her hands and then her hips up and up.
She sighed, settling her knees on either side of his head, and exploded almost as soon as his tongue slid inside her: another tiny revolution against the machines.