Chapter Text
Everything You Need (Princess Koriand’r – V)
Let your light keep shining
Gettin' you through the dark
Let your song keep playing
Sing it with all your heart
The Starjammer had docked at Aqueous Marina under the pretense of "essential maintenance"— Corsair’s way of saying he'd thrown his back out during their last job and wanted someone with more tentacles than hands to work the knots loose.
"Crew, time for some R&R." he'd announced that morning, "Even pirates need to decompress."
Scott had nodded along, his expression neutral, before throwing a glance at Kori.
She was smiling.
It didn’t quite reach her eyes.
He noticed.
As soon as they landed, Scott had taken Kori’s hand and smoothly excused themselves. Kori hadn't questioned it—the runaway Princess of Tamaran simply allowed her flamebound to lead, her emerald eyes bright and delighted.
Within minutes, Scott had smoothly checked them in to a private suite that occupied the upper spiral of the spa tower— after retrieving Kori, who had wandered off in wonder about a solar bath.
Their suite was sealed behind coral doors that hummed with low-frequency privacy shields. The chamber itself was carved from living reef—walls with bioluminescent light, a ceiling that arched like the inside of some giant seashell. At its center, and occupying most of the room, was a mineral pool that glowed faintly rose-gold, luminescent even in the vast and endless twilight filtering through the viewport.
Scott stood at the pool's edge, still dressed in the swim shorts Hepzibah had thrown at his head with a knowing smirk, and tried to remember how to breathe normally.
Kori had disappeared into the changing alcove approximately four minutes ago.
Four minutes, in reality, was not a long time.
Four minutes, to one Scott Summers, felt like an eternity when he knew what was coming.
The alcove's privacy screen shimmered and dissolved.
Kori emerged like she was walking a runway on Tamaran—which, given their cultural attitudes toward clothing, probably involved significantly less fabric than even Earth’s Fashion Week.
Her choice of bathing silks were... well, the silks were present.
And not much else.
Two strips of shimmering orange crossed her chest in an X-pattern, met at a golden clasp between her breasts, and continued down to connect with something that generously might be called bottoms—if string and the tiniest triangular piece of silk could be called generous.
He'd seen her in lingerie.
He'd seen her in ceremonial silk.
He'd seen her unabashedly naked.
Yet somehow, Kori still found attires that made his mouth run dry.
"These were among those that I found downstairs.” Kori stretched her arms above her head, and the silks shifted in ways that made Scott's visor fog with more than the steam. "Is something amiss, my flamebound?"
"Nope." His voice cracked. "Nothing. Amiss. At all."
"You are staring."
"I'm not—" He swallowed. "I'm... appreciating."
"Ah." Kori's smile curved like a crescent moon. "Then I shall pose for your appreciation. In such times on Earth, I heard one should be taking it all in." She turned slowly, giving him the full view. "Am I doing it correctly?"
Scott made a sound like a teakettle reaching boil.
Kori's laughter rang through the chamber, bright and musical, as she drifted past her slack-jawed flamebound and toward the pool's edge.
She paused there, surveying their surroundings with open curiosity, her gaze tracing the curved coral walls and the steam that curled lazily off the water's surface.
"This is quite private," she observed. "On Tamaran, communal bathing is done in open thermal pools. Dozens of people at once."
"Naked?" Scott asked, then immediately wished he hadn't.
"Of course." She looked at him like he'd asked if water was wet. "Bathing attire would defeat the purpose of purification. We gather bare beneath the suns, letting their rays reach all of our skin while the waters cleanse us."
Scott swallowed.
"All of your skin…?"
"All of it, yes." She stretched again, and the inadequate silks shifted accordingly. "Men, women, warriors, royalty—all equal in the pools. No falsehoods. All beautiful." Her gaze found his. "Does this shock you?"
"I'm... adjusting."
"Earth customs are so restrictive." Kori sighed dramatically. "Covering bodies like they are shameful. Hiding skin like it is sin." She gestured at her own silks. "This? This is modest by Tamaranean standards. I wear this only because you are still acclimating."
Scott's brain snagged on a detail. "Wait. Only because—? You mean you'd prefer to—"
"Bare all with you in these healing waters? Our skin touching with nothing between us?" She tilted her head. "Is that not what bathing together means?"
His brain did a full system reboot.
"We're... working up to that."
Kori's smile was patient and lustful all at once. "Then let us work faster, yes? I have much skin that requires your... acclimation."
Before Scott could formulate a response—or remember how human language functioned—Kori stepped off the coral edge.
She didn't so much enter the pool as commune with it.
Her natural flight carried her downward like a leaf settling onto a still pond.
The surface barely rippled as she descended, the warm mineral water embracing her inch by inch until she was submerged to her shoulders, her hair fanning out around her like a fiery corona.
"Exquisite," she breathed, tilting her head back, shuddering despite herself.
The word came out throaty, saturated with pleasure, and Scott felt it somewhere behind his sternum.
Then, Kori turned to him with a coy tilt of her head.
Right.
His turn.
Scott, lacking the ability to defy gravity, attempted a dignified step-down using the carved footholds. The coral was smooth beneath his feet, worn by countless visitors, and the steam made everything slick with condensation.
He placed his weight carefully, found his balance, and—
His foot slipped.
With a startled yelp, he went in sideways with all the grace of a human-shaped rock, sending a wave cascading over Kori's serene face and leaving him sputtering in chest-deep water with his hair plastered to his forehead.
Kori wiped her eyes, considered him for a long moment, and giggled.
"You have made quite the splash, beloved." She drifted closer, reaching up to push his wet hair back from his visor. "I believe the Earth expression is... cannonball?"
"That wasn't a cannonball." He mumbled with a dignified pout. "That was a controlled descent."
"Into my lap?"
Scott blinked, suddenly realizing his flailing recovery had landed him approximately six inches from her floating form. "I—that wasn't—"
"I am not complaining." Her ankle brushed his leg beneath the water, smooth and warm and deliberately lingering. "Your controlled descents may land in my lap anytime."
“I—uh. Thanks.”
Kori giggled again.
Eventually, the water settled around them, steam curling between their bodies, and Scott allowed himself to relax by degrees.
The mineral water was warm—perfectly warm, actually, in a way that seeped into muscles he hadn't realized were knotted until they began to unknot.
He let out a slow breath, shoulders dropping, and Kori made a pleased sound at his visible decompression.
They floated in comfortable proximity for a few moments, the chamber's ambient sounds washing over them—the soft gurgle of the filtration system, the distant hum of the spa tower's environmental controls, calming music filtering through the coral walls.
Then Kori's voice took on that particular, curious tone.
The one that meant Scott was about to be either aroused or mortified.
Possibly both.
"My flamebound. These walls..."
Scott followed her gaze to the curved coral enclosure surrounding their private pool.
In the haze of steam and coral light, it was easy to miss, but when you looked closely—
"They're translucent," he realized, stomach dropping. "You can see shapes through them."
"Indeed." Kori drifted toward the wall, pressing her palm against it. Beyond, the hazy silhouettes of other spa-goers moved through adjacent chambers—indistinct, but undeniably present. "I wonder. If one were to engage in... vigorous activity... I would think the outlines would be quite visible."
"...Kori."
"Yes, beloved?"
"We are not engaging in vigorous activity where people can see our outlines."
"No?" She glanced back at him, hair trailing like fire across the water. "But I have heard this is called... smoking up the windows, yes?"
"Steaming, Kori. It refers to, well, vehicle windows. From breath. Not—not activity outlines."
"Ah, but we are surrounded by steam." She gestured at the misty air filling the chamber. "And these are windows, of sorts." Her smile sharpened. "The conditions seem ideal for the steaming."
"Kori."
"I am merely admiring the architecture." She pushed off the wall and glided back toward him, movements graceful and unhurried. "Though I confess, the idea of someone seeing your outline pressed against mine is... intriguing."
"Intriguing."
"Most definitely." She stopped inches from him, water lapping between their bodies. "But I understand Earth customs are more repressed." She traced a finger down his chest, nail dragging lightly over wet skin. "We shall simply have to be discreet about our steaming."
"There will be no steaming."
"Your body says otherwise, beloved." Her finger had reached his stomach, hovering just above the waterline. "I can feel your steam rising already."
Scott caught her wrist—gently, but firmly—and guided her hand back to safer territory. Kori's emerald eyes sparkled with mischief, entirely unrepentant, but she allowed the redirection.
"Later," he said, and the promise in the word made her pupils dilate.
"I shall hold you to that, my flamebound."
She drifted back slightly, giving him space to breathe, and sank deeper into the mineral pool with a sigh of genuine contentment.
The heat was working on her too, Scott noticed—the tension she carried in her shoulders had begun to ease, her movements growing languid rather than merely graceful.
"This is quite exquisite. I truly do mean that. It is… fortuitous that you found this place as soon as we landed." she murmured, eyes half-closing. "Most off-world pools are either too cold for Tamaraneans or hot enough to boil those without our constitution. But this..."
"Yeah, but they calibrate for different species here," Scott said without thinking—then quickly added. "Standard spa stuff."
Kori's eyes drifted to him. "Standard spa... stuff."
"Yep."
"And they simply... guessed my preferred temperature range which overlaps with yours? Without asking?"
"Lucky guess, probably." Scott suddenly found the coral ceiling very interesting. "Oh look, the minerals are doing that glowy thing. Neat, right?"
Kori floated toward him wordlessly, expression unreadable.
Something shifted behind her eyes—fond, perhaps; patient and affectionate, even—but she didn't voice it.
Not yet.
Instead, she settled against the pool's curved wall beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed beneath the water.
The contact was comfortable rather than charged, and Scott sighed in relief.
Maybe this would work.
Maybe she'd just enjoy the moment and—
A soft chime interrupted the thought.
A panel in the coral wall slid open, revealing a hovering tray laden with refreshments.
Scott had requested they be delivered after the first hour, timed so Kori would be relaxed enough to truly appreciate—
Kori's breath caught.
Glurkberries.
Fresh, their purple skin still glistening with moisture from whatever had preserved them during transport.
A delicacy from Tamaran's southernmost continent, nearly impossible to find off-world since the sudden diaspora. Beside them sat a bottle of something amber that smelled exactly like Ramora nectar—the ceremonial drink served during Tamaranean celebrations.
The cost to bring them here had been... significant.
Worth it, though, for the way Kori was looking at the tray right now.
"Oh, nice." He pointed out, forcing surprise into his voice. "Fresh snacks."
Kori stared at the tray floating between them.
Then at Scott.
Then back at the tray.
She squinted.
"Beloved."
"Hmm?"
"These are glurkberries."
"Are they? Cool."
"They are of Tamaran. I have not heard of another world capable of growing them." She picked one up, its familiar weight achingly nostalgic in her palm—the ghost of its taste on a sunlit afternoon with her family, already on her tongue. "They would have to be specially imported. At considerable expense. By someone who knew exactly what they were—and who they would be served to at this specific point in time."
Scott examined his fingernails beneath the water. "Gotta hand it to spa. They have a good supplier."
"A good supplier of traditional Tamaranean delicacies from a planet ravaged by war.” Kori pressed—suspicious, but amused. “For their standard refreshment menu."
"This sure is a fancy place."
Something flickered across Kori's face—too quick to name, gone before Scott could catch it.
But it looked almost like suppressed laughter.
Almost like love.
Kori bit into the berry.
The taste of home flooded her mouth—sweet and tart and heart-wrenchingly familiar, triggering memories she'd thought buried since Shi’Ar began their genocide against her race.
Her grandmother's gardens.
The harvest festivals before everything changed.
Komand'r stealing berries from her plate and pretending innocence.
Her eyes stung with something bittersweet.
"It is very fancy," she agreed softly. "And very... thoughtful."
Scott said nothing.
But his hand found hers beneath the water, and squeezed.
They ate in comfortable silence for a while—Kori savoring each berry like it might be her last, Scott watching her with an expression he probably thought was subtle.
The Ramora nectar was perfect too, its honeyed warmth spreading through her chest and loosening something she hadn't realized was clenched.
When the tray was empty and the bottle drained, Kori let herself float on her back, staring up at the vaulted coral ceiling, savoring the taste—this delightful, stolen moment with her flamebound.
The chamber's bioluminescence pulsed in slow waves, almost hypnotic, and the warmth of the water had seeped into her bones until she felt almost boneless.
Almost at peace.
Her gaze drifted sideways, toward the massive viewport that dominated one wall.
Through it, the eternal twilight of Aqueous Marina stretched endlessly—the stars finally glimmering as the twilight blended into night, reflecting like diamonds in the ocean far below.
In the distance, lighthouses sprung to life, beacons guiding lost wayfarers through the dark and endless ocean.
"I had not noticed when we entered, but this chamber has the optimal positioning," she observed, half to herself. "Most suites would face the interior gardens, yes? Or the thermal vents. Perhaps views of the facility itself."
"Yeah?" Scott's voice was carefully neutral. "I hadn’t thought about that."
"The resort must have hundreds of suites." Kori had glanced at the directory on their way in—idle curiosity, nothing more. "Perhaps, only a handful have exterior views at all."
"Guess we got really lucky then."
"And of those few exterior suites..." Kori sat up slowly, water sluicing off her shoulders, her attention sharpening on the star field beyond the glass. "I would think even fewer face the stellar quadrant containing the Vega system."
Scott went very still.
"To Tamaran's home stars," she finished quietly.
The silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft lap of water and the distant hum of the spa tower's systems.
"I can see them from here," Kori continued, pointing toward a cluster of distant lights barely visible at the edge of the viewport. "That golden one, slightly brighter than its neighbors—that is Vega. And just beside it—that faint flicker is, I believe, my beloved Tamaran."
Or what remained of it.
What the Shi’Ar invasion had left behind.
She turned to find Scott watching her, something vulnerable cracking through his careful composure.
"I had not thought to think this view was possible from anywhere in this facility," she said. "I did not know these stars were visible from this world at all. But somehow, we were assigned the one suite where I can still see my home."
Slowly, Kori turned—facing him fully, illuminated by the coral light.
“Beloved?”
“Yes, Kori?”
“There are… far too many happy coincidences that happened since our arrival.” Kori pointed out softly. Like offering an open door. “Even the happenstance that your father decided to rest here. No, even before that—you piloted us in this direction.”
“…”
“My flamebound… I am not naïve. I know you have had a hand in this from the beginning, yes?”
The jig was up.
Scott's throat worked.
"The… booking agent asked if I had any preferences," he admitted softly. "I told her—I said my partner—my flamebound— was far from home. That she might like to see familiar stars. Taste familiar foods. I had a really embarrassing conversation with your sister about Tamaranean physiology and water temperature, but—" He glanced at her, and Kori felt the weight of his gaze like a physical thing. "I didn't know if they could accommodate it. But they said they'd try."
Kori's eyes burned.
"Scott, my beloved—"
"It's not a big deal—"
"My Scott Summers." She crossed to him in one fluid motion, taking his face in her hands, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. "You found me my stars and my home."
His smile was small and embarrassed and unbearably tender. "I... suppose I did."
"Beloved," she said quietly.
"Mm?"
"When did you prepare this?"
He was quiet for a long moment.
The water lapped gently between them. The music swelled and softened. Through the viewport, the distant light of Vega pulsed like a heartbeat.
"Three weeks ago," he admitted finally. "When we left Tamaran's sector. When I saw you staring at the nav charts and pretending you weren't crying."
Kori's breath caught.
"You were holding it together for everyone," he continued, voice rough. "For Komand'r on the comms. For the refugees who look to you for hope. For the crew. For me." His hand came up, tenderly cradling her jaw like she was fragile—or maybe, it was he, because his voice seemed to tremble, "But when I saw you on the observation deck at 0300—when you thought everyone was asleep… I saw you shake apart and put yourself back together before anyone could notice."
Her eyes were burning now, tears she'd been holding for weeks suddenly pressing against her lashes.
Scott shrugged, sheepishly.
"So, I booked a spa."
He confessed it like it was nothing.
Like those five words hadn't been worth waiting for.
Like those five words hadn’t cracked her chest open.
And he continued like he hadn’t noticed.
"I found out what you needed and I tried to get all of it—the temperature and the food and the music and the stars—because I couldn't fix any of the real things. I couldn't bring your planet back or end the war faster or make the Shi'Ar see reason. But I could give you one day. One day where someone else handled everything. Where you could just... float."
A tear escaped despite her best efforts.
He caught it with his thumb.
"I was going to play it cool," he admitted. "Let you think it was crew R&R. You'd never go if you knew. But I'm terrible at lying to you. And maybe—" His voice dropped. "Maybe I wanted you to know. That someone's paying attention. That someone sees you. Even when you're busy being strong for everyone else."
Kori couldn't speak.
So, she did the only thing she could.
She kissed him—soft and sweet and aching with gratitude—and when she pulled back, she didn't go far.
Just far enough to breathe.
Just far enough to study the face of this impossible love who kept doing impossible things for her, forehead pressed against his.
She was smiling—really smiling; beaming, even, like she hadn’t smiled in days.
"You booked this," she whispered. "The suite. The minerals. The—" She gestured helplessly at everything surrounding them. "You booked this for me."
"Obviously." His voice was thick, his smile so endearingly soft against her lips. "Who else would I book it for?"
Kori laughed—soft, relieved, bright with something she'd been holding back since the lobby.
"No one else, I suppose." she whispered back. "Only ever for me."
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
They simply breathed together, foreheads touching, the weight of his care settling into her chest like warm stone.
Then Kori smiled—and the quality of that smile gradually shifted.
They drifted together, her back against his chest, his arms loose around her waist.
The minerals had done their work; she felt more relaxed than she had in weeks—perhaps months.
The warmth that had seeped into her bones, the familiar stars that glowed through the viewport, the coral lights, the music that was playing—
Her place in her beloved’s arms—
It was perfect.
"Thank you, beloved." Her hand reached upwards, tracing his jaw with her thumb, committing this memory and his contours. "I did not realize how tightly I was wound until you began... unwinding me."
"Happy to help with the unwinding." Scott's hands found her waist beneath the water, steadying her against him. "Though I think the minerals are doing most of the work."
"Oh, the minerals are certainly doing something," Kori agreed, and there was a shift in her tone—a familiar mischief creeping back into the edges.
She turned in his arms, her full breasts flush against his chest—
But she was not gazing at him.
Her eyes, instead, flicked downward, and Scott followed them.
The water around them had begun to glow.
Not the ambient rose-gold of the coral, but a brighter, warmer luminescence—emanating, he realized with dawning horror, from everywhere their bodies were generating heat.
His chest.
Her shoulders.
And, most concerningly, the space where their hips were now pressed together.
The minerals, the corals, the water itself—
It responded to them.
Scott went very still. "Kori."
"Yes, beloved?"
“We’re—we’re not doing steaming things where our shadows can be seen, right?”
“Hmm.” She hummed noncommittally, but her fingers began to crawl down towards his chest.
Her breath, concerningly, was warm and moist against his jaw.
"The water is glowing, Kori. There’ll be shadows."
"I had observed this, yes." She tilted her head with theatrical innocence. "Perhaps it is simply... excited by the minerals."
"The minerals."
"Yes." Her smile was angelic. Her hands, sliding down his stomach, were decidedly not. "They are very stimulating. Especially the ones near your lap."
Scott made a strangled noise.
The water around his midsection flared brighter, and he could see—everyone could see, if anyone happened to glance through the translucent coral walls—exactly how stimulating the minerals were.
"This is becoming a nightmare." Scott groaned, head falling back against the coral lip of the pool.
Kori giggled, then took the opportunity to nuzzle into the exposed bulge of his throat.
"You are very warm, beloved," she murmured against his pulse. "I suspect you may be running a fever."
"Oh really?” He tried to pout. “I suspect you may be the cause of it."
"Then I must take your temperature." Her hand dipped lower beneath the water, finding the waistband of his swim shorts with unerring accuracy. "To ensure you do not overheat like before."
Scott's hips jerked involuntarily.
The water around them blazed like a small sun.
"Kori," he managed, voice strained, "there are windows."
"Frosted coral walls." She sang while nipping at his earlobe. "Translucent, not transparent. They can see only... shapes, like you have said." Her fingers traced those very shapes beneath the glowing water. "Let them see what you do to me."
"What I do to—you're the one who's—nnngh—"
His shorts were now on his knees.
Kori wrapped her hand around him properly now, and all coherent thought became a distant memory.
The water pulsed with light in rhythm with his heartbeat—which was, frankly, humiliating—and Kori watched the display with open fascination.
"Beloved," she breathed, dragging her hands over his entire length, "you are like a lighthouse."
"Please—please stop narrating."
"But it is so beautiful." She stroked him slowly, experimentally, and delighted when the glow responded in kind. "Each time I do this—" Another stroke; another flare of light. "—you illuminate. It is like conducting a symphony of love."
Scott's fingers dug into her hips hard enough to bruise, though he knew she'd barely feel it.
"And if you keep going like that, there's going to be a grand finale soon."
"Ah." Kori's eyes sparkled. "A happy ending, yes?"
He choked.
"That's—not—that's a massage term—"
"Is it?" She feigned surprise, poorly. "I had thought it meant bringing something to a most satisfying completion. Like a wonderful story... or a satiated lover."
Her thumb swiped across the head of him, and Scott saw actual stars behind his visor.
“Oh fuck.” Scott’s nostrils flared.
Kori tilted her head. "Was I mistaken?"
"You—you know exactly what you're— doing." He groaned, holding on to her for dear sanity as she stroked him into the hardest he had ever been.
"I do." She kissed his jaw, his chin, the corner of his mouth. "I have been studying Earth language with great dedication. For instance—" Another long and ruinous stroke. "—I understand now what it means to get someone's rocks off."
Scott wheezed. "That's—that's not—"
"We are surrounded by rocks." She gestured at the coral chamber with her free hand. "And you are most certainly... off." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Or perhaps 'getting off' is the correct phrasing? English is so wonderfully flexible. Like my fingers."
To demonstrate, she did something with said fingers that made Scott's entire spine attempt to vacate his body.
"Kori—" His voice cracked. "If you want me to last longer than thirty more seconds, you need to—"
"Last?" She pulled back slightly, looking puzzled. "But I thought the goal was to finish first. Is that not what you said about the race with the Ravagers?"
"That was a foot race—"
"And this is a different kind of race, yes." She grinned, sharp and knowing. "A more... pleasurable one. And I intend to ride you until the wheels fall off."
Scott stared at her.
The water blazed around them, splashing wildly.
It was a miracle nobody had attempted to barge into their suite to see what the lightshow was about.
"That phrase," Scott managed through gritted teeth, "definitely doesn't mean what you're using it for."
Kori’s hand stopped.
And Scott’s heart stilled when she rose from the glowing waters.
"Does it not?" Kori settled more fully into his lap, peeling away that tiny piece of triangular fabric, then stood over his engorged cock in a way that made his breath hitch.
The pool glowed incandescent.
"Then perhaps I should demonstrate what I do mean.” Kori hummed, and this time she could not maintain her feigned innocence.
Scott swallowed. "This is a public spa, Kori."
"This is a private suite in a public spa." Kori corrected. The water around them seemed to glow even brighter, responding to her, or him, or definitely them. "And I believe the phrase is 'when in Rome'?"
"We're not in Rome. We're on an ocean moon."
"Then when on the ocean moon—" She kissed him, deeply and hungrily and utterly without shame. "—do as the ocean creatures do."
"Ocean creatures don't—"
"They most certainly do. Have you not heard of the Kraken, beloved? A great beast of the deep that rises when summoned?" Her eyes glinted. "I intend to summon yours."
Scott could only flush.
He knew that look.
Kori was serious.
"My flamebound." She pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes, and beneath the playfulness, there was something genuine. Something warm, wanting and done with waiting. "I have been tense. You noticed. You brought me here to help me relax." Her fingers traced his jaw. "Let me relax in my preferred manner."
Scott swallowed. "And your preferred manner is...?"
"You." She told him simply, the singular word devastating in its honesty. "You are my preferred manner of everything, Scott Summers. My calm, my joy, my passion. You gave me rest—"
She kissed his forehead.
"—you gave me laughter—"
His cheek.
"—now give me this."
His lips, lingering.
"Let me feel you. Let the water glow. Let the moon and stars know that I am yours and you are mine."
The last of Scott's resistance—not that there'd been much left—crumbled.
"If anyone sees the light levels and comes to investigate," he murmured against her mouth, his grip firm and steadying on her hips, "I'm blaming you."
"I will accept this blame with pride."
Scott groaned.
Kori laughed.
And as she sank down onto him with a sigh that echoed off the coral walls, the mineral pool blazed like a second sun—
A lighthouse of their own making.
A beacon pulsing and flaring, broadcasting their intimacy to anyone who only had to look up.
Somewhere outside the suite, a spa attendant blinked at their monitoring console and quietly increased the privacy filters before someone got blinded.
Some things, they decided, were better left unobserved.
Inside the pool, Scott pressed his forehead to Kori's shoulder, overwhelmed and embarrassed and deeply, stupidly in love.
"Best R&R," he panted, "I've ever booked."
Kori clenched around him, her walls molding against every vein along his shaft, her laugh bright and breathless.
"Then next time," she whispered, beginning to move, "let us find somewhere with reflective surfaces. I wish to see your illuminated face as you release the Kraken."
"It's—that's not even—" Scott gave up, surrendering to sensation and semantics alike. "You know what? Fine. I’ll release the Kraken. Whatever you want."
"I want you, beloved." She kissed him, rolling her hips in a rhythm that matched the pulsing glow. "Now and always."
The water blazed.
The coral hummed.
And on a floating spa tower above an endless ocean, two souls basked in the warmth of each other.
Let your dreams help guide you
Melting down all your walls
You don't need to add a thing
You're perfect the way you are
Epilogue
While Scott was busy checking them in…
At the concierge, Kori had excused herself briefly—the spa's facilities included a chamber for solar-cell replenishment that she'd wanted to investigate.
But she'd forgotten her hair clasp and doubled back.
That's when she heard Scott's voice from the front desk—low, earnest, entirely unaware of how far Tamaranean hearing extended.
"—and you're sure the temperature's holding steady? Because she won't say if it's wrong. She just endures it. She's stubborn like that."
An unfamiliar voice replied—the concierge, most likely. "Yes, sir. We're monitoring the thermal output continuously. It hasn't deviated from your requested range."
"Good. Good." A pause. The sound of fingers drumming nervously against the counter. "And the glurkberries? They were fresh? I wasn't sure about the transport time from the Rann colony—"
"Harvested yesterday, sir. Our supplier assured us of their quality, as was your requested nectar."
"Okay. Sorry. I know I'm being—" A frustrated exhale, sharp with self-directed impatience. "I just want it to be perfect. She's been through so much lately and she doesn't let anyone take care of her, you know? She takes care of everyone else. She burns so bright for everyone else. But no one ever—"
His voice cracked.
Kori pressed herself against the corridor wall, heart hammering against her ribs.
"I just want her to feel like someone's paying attention, is all." Scott finished quietly. "Like someone sees that she's tired. Even if she won't admit it."
"I understand, sir." The attendant's voice had softened. "We'll ensure everything remains to your specifications. Your partner is very fortunate."
A small, bitter laugh. "I'm the fortunate one. I'm just trying to deserve it."
Kori stepped back silently, retreating around the corner before Scott could notice her presence.
She stood there for a long moment, trembling with something she couldn't name.
Not surprise—she had suspected something, from the moment he'd taken her hand and led her toward the spa tower with such careful purpose.
Her beloved Scott Summers did nothing without intention.
But hearing it spoken aloud—the quiet desperation in his voice, the way he fretted over glurkberries of all things—and he had found them!— the crack in his composure when he spoke of her burning bright—
That was different.
And, somehow, that was everything.
Her heart soared.
Kori took a breath.
She composed her features into one of delighted curiosity rather than sudden yearning she had to hold him right then and there.
To take him right then and there.
And when she drifted back to his side moments later, slipping her hand into his like nothing had happened, she made a decision.
She would let him give this to her.
She would squint at the berries and feign suspicion at the temperature and pretend to piece together his clumsy deceptions, one breadcrumb at a time.
She would give him every opportunity to confess, to express his care out loud, to hear himself say the words he so clearly needed to speak—words of comfort she would be extremely delighted to hear.
Because Scott Summers was a boy still learning he deserved to love openly.
And Kori would wait—patiently, fondly, aching with gratitude—until he found his way there.
Some confessions, she understood, needed to be earned.
Not by her.
By him.
She cherished this man.
One romantic fumble at a time.