The Fall - Part 1: Impact

The space module was peacefully orbiting Earth when everything changed. Thomas was checking the scientific readings, trying not to think too much about the events of the previous night, when the alarm sounded. A shrill, urgent beep that immediately made his heart rate spike.

'What the...' Marc began, floating quickly toward the main console.

The impact hit them before he could finish his sentence. A violent shock that sent their bodies tumbling through the module. Thomas barely had time to grab Marc's arm, preventing him from violently hitting the wall.

'Debris!' he shouted, their bodies pressed together by the force of the impact. For a fraction of a second, he felt Marc's heart beating against his chest, as fast as his own.

Alarms were screaming now, a cacophony of emergency sounds. Red lights were flashing everywhere, transforming the module into a nightmarish disco.

'Houston, this is ISS-274,' Marc had already activated communications, his voice professional despite the situation.

'We've been hit. I repeat, we've been hit.'

Thomas quickly checked the systems, his fingers flying over the screens. 'Fuck,' he whispered. 'Marc... the main thrusters...'

'ISS-274, this is Houston,' the radio crackled. 'What's your status?'

Marc glanced at the data Thomas was showing him, his face slightly paling. 'Houston, we've lost main thrusters. Auxiliary systems... shit!'

A new alarm triggered. Thomas felt his blood freeze seeing the new data. 'We're drifting,' he announced, his voice strangely calm. 'The impact knocked us out of orbit.'

'Attempting correction with secondary thrusters,' announced Marc, his fingers dancing over the controls. Thomas watched him work, admiring despite the situation the precision of his movements, the calm strength emanating from him.

Their eyes met briefly. One night. Just one night together, and yet something had fundamentally changed in their way of communicating, of understanding each other.

'ISS-274, your trajectory data is alarming,' Houston's voice crackled. 'Systems status?'

Thomas quickly consulted the screens. 'Houston, this is Thomas. We've lost 60% of our propulsion systems. The main oxygen tanks...' He paused, his heart skipping a beat. 'The main tanks are compromised.'

Marc cursed softly, activating emergency systems. Their bodies floated close to each other in the module's chaos, occasionally brushing. Each contact, even accidental, sent electric shocks through their bodies, a constant reminder of their new connection.

'Auxiliaries not responding,' Marc whispered, his voice tense. 'We're still drifting.'

'ISS-274, maintain your current position. We're calculating solutions.'

Thomas let out a bitter laugh. 'Maintain our position? We have nothing left to maintain with, Houston.'

A new alarm sounded, shriller than the others. The module's lights flickered for a moment, plunging their faces into an unsettling red semi-darkness.

'Main electrical system failing,' announced the metallic voice of the onboard computer. 'Switching to backup batteries.'

Marc grabbed Thomas's arm, stabilizing him as a shudder ran through the module. Their bodies pressed against each other for a moment, and despite the situation, despite the danger, Thomas felt his body react to this proximity.

'Houston,' Marc's voice was strangely calm. 'Our systems are falling one after another. The drift is increasing. We...' He hesitated, his fingers unconsciously tightening on Thomas's arm. 'We need options. Now.'

'Sending trajectory data,' announced Thomas, his fingers slightly trembling on the controls. The main screen displayed their inexorable drift, a red line moving away from the planned Earth orbit.

Marc leaned over his shoulder, his chest pressed against Thomas's back. In the urgency of the moment, this contact seemed both inappropriate and desperately necessary.

'ISS-274,' Houston's voice seemed tenser now. 'Your oxygen reserves?'

Thomas felt Marc's breath catch against his neck. The numbers on the screen were implacable.

'Seventy-two hours,' he replied, his voice strangely detached. 'With recycling systems running at maximum.'

The silence that followed on the radio was deafening. Marc let his hand slide down Thomas's arm, intertwining their fingers for a split second. A gesture invisible to the cameras, but one that sent shivers through Thomas's entire body.

'Copy that, ISS-274,' Houston finally responded. 'We're mobilizing all teams. Maintain contact every thirty minutes.'

A new shudder shook the module. The lights flickered again, momentarily plunging their faces into darkness. In these few seconds of black, Marc pressed his lips against Thomas's neck, a furtive, desperate kiss.

'We're going to die, aren't we?' he whispered against his skin.

Thomas closed his eyes, savoring this forbidden contact. 'Probably,' he answered softly. 'But not just yet.'

The lights stabilized, forcing them to resume their professional distances. But something had changed in the module's air. A different tension, more intimate, deeper than mere fear of death.

'Houston,' Marc's voice was perfectly professional now. 'We're initiating emergency procedures according to Delta-7 protocol.'

'Copy that, ISS-274.'

Their eyes met again. In Marc's gaze, Thomas could read the same thought torturing him: seventy-two hours. Seventy-two hours to live, to breathe... to love?

The Delta-7 protocol was clear, precise, a list of mechanical tasks designed to handle crisis situations. But how to remain professional when every gesture, every look was charged with new meaning?

'Auxiliary survival system activated,' announced Thomas, aware of Marc's body floating near his own. Too close. Not close enough.

'Checking seal integrity,' replied Marc, his voice steady despite the tension radiating from his body.

Between reports to Houston, their hands would 'accidentally' brush, their bodies seeking each other in the module's confined space. Each contact seemed amplified by the urgency of their situation, by the acute awareness of the time they had left.

'Seventy-two hours,' whispered Marc during a break in communications. 'Three days to...'

'To live a lifetime,' completed Thomas, their gazes meeting in the red glow of the warning lights.

A new shudder shook the module. This time, when Marc grabbed Thomas to stabilize him, his hands lingered longer than necessary, almost imperceptibly caressing his hips.

'ISS-274, this is Houston. Status?'

Marc pulled away reluctantly, but his eyes remained fixed on Thomas as he replied: 'Situation stable for now, Houston. Auxiliary systems maintaining module integrity.'

'Module integrity,' Thomas repeated with a bitter laugh when the communication was cut. 'If only they knew...'

Marc suddenly pinned him against the module wall, taking advantage of a camera blind spot. 'I don't care about integrity,' he growled, his body pressed against Thomas's. 'I don't care about protocol. I want...'

A new alarm interrupted them, forcing them to separate. But the fire was lit, desire amplified by the urgency of their situation.

'Primary systems diagnostic complete,' announced Thomas for Houston, his professional voice contrasting with the fire burning in his veins. A few meters away, Marc was checking the readings, his body taut as a bow.

Their gazes crossed between each report, loaded with silent promises. Death prowled around their damaged module, but paradoxically, Thomas had never felt more alive.

'Houston, switching to energy conservation mode,' he continued, watching Marc who had moved closer, pretending to check the data.

'Copy that, ISS-274. Next contact in thirty minutes.'

As soon as the communication was cut, Marc pressed his lips against Thomas's neck, drawing a muffled moan from the latter.

'We shouldn't,' whispered Thomas, even as his body pressed against Marc's. 'The cameras...'

'There are blind spots,' Marc's voice was hoarse against his skin. 'I've memorized every one of them since this morning. Since I realized I didn't want to die without touching you one more time.'

Marc's hands slipped under Thomas's shirt, tracing the muscles of his stomach. 'If we're going to die,' he continued, 'I want to die knowing you by heart. Every inch...' His fingers moved higher. 'Every moan...' His teeth gently nibbled Thomas's shoulder. 'Every taste...'

A new alarm forced them to separate, but the air between them crackled with static electricity. They resumed their professional positions, but their bodies trembled with contained desire.

'Twenty-eight minutes,' whispered Marc, checking the clock. 'Twenty-eight minutes before the next contact with Houston.'

Thomas felt his heart accelerate. 'What are you suggesting?'

Marc's smile was almost predatory. 'I'm suggesting we celebrate life while we still can...'

The space module had become their clandestine playground. Every corner, every camera blind spot was an opportunity. Between technical reports, their bodies sought each other, found each other, celebrated each other.

'Oxygen level check,' announced Thomas for Houston, his voice remarkably steady despite Marc's hand discreetly caressing his thigh under the console.

'ISS-274, transmitting new trajectory data,' Houston responded.

Thomas felt Marc's hot breath against his ear. 'Twenty-seven minutes,' he whispered, so low only Thomas could hear it.

The data displaying on their screen was catastrophic. Their drift was accelerating. But strangely, this acute awareness of their approaching end only intensified their desire for each other.

'Copy that, Houston. Beginning analysis.'

As soon as the communication was cut, Marc pulled Thomas into one of the blind spots, their mouths finding each other in a desperate kiss.

'We shouldn't,' gasped Thomas, even as his hands gripped Marc's shoulders. 'We should focus on...'

'On what?' Marc's voice was hoarse. 'On the data telling us we're going to die? On the systems we can't repair?' His hands slipped under Thomas's shirt. 'I prefer to focus on life. On you. On us.'

A soft alarm beeped, reminding them they had only a few minutes before the next contact.

'How long?' whispered Thomas, his body trembling under Marc's caresses.

'Eighteen minutes.' Marc's lips found his neck. 'Enough time to make you see the stars in a whole new way...'

Marc's hands were everywhere at once, tracing burning constellations on Thomas's skin. Zero gravity gave their movements a particular grace, transforming each caress into a cosmic choreography.

'Sixteen minutes,' gasped Thomas as Marc frantically unbuttoned his flight suit. 'We need to be... presentable again...'

'I can do a lot in sixteen minutes,' whispered Marc, his voice vibrating with promises. 'Especially now that I know exactly how to touch you...'

Their bodies floated slightly in the camera's blind spot, held only by the pressure of their intertwined limbs. Through the porthole, Earth turned inexorably, ignoring the drama playing out in this small drifting module.

'The data...' moaned Thomas as Marc's hand found his already hard cock. 'We should analyze...'

'To hell with the data,' growled Marc against his skin. 'We already know what it says. Seventy-two hours, Thomas. Seventy-two hours to live a lifetime.'

A new alarm beeped softly - fifteen minutes before the next contact. Time seemed to both stretch and contract, each second precious as a rare gem.

'Then make me live,' breathed Thomas, his hands gripping Marc's shoulders. 'Make me forget that each breath brings us closer to the end.'

Marc's eyes darkened. In the module's semi-darkness, his gaze shone with almost fierce intensity. 'I'll make you more than live,' he promised, his hand accelerating its movements. 'I'll make you touch the stars...'

Marc's hand found a perfect rhythm, transforming each caress into exquisite torture. Thomas bit his lips to hold back his moans, aware that the slightest sound could be picked up by the module's microphones.

'Thirteen minutes,' whispered Marc against his ear. 'I want to see you cum while watching Earth. I want you to remember that even if we're drifting toward our end, we're still alive. So alive...'

Through the porthole, their blue planet seemed more beautiful than ever, as if she too wanted to offer them an unforgettable final spectacle. The module's lights reflected on their damp skin, creating moving shadows that danced to the rhythm of their movements.

'Marc...' The name escaped Thomas's lips like a prayer. 'I'm going to...'

'Not yet,' growled Marc, slowing his caresses. 'Look at Earth. Look how beautiful she is. How beautiful life is.'

A new alarm - ten minutes. Time slipped like sand through their fingers, but each second seemed to contain an eternity of sensations.

'We should have done this from the start,' gasped Thomas. 'Not just last night. From day one.'

Marc's lips found his neck, biting gently. 'We'll make up for lost time. Every minute, every second we have left...'

Their bodies floated in a celestial dance, defying death itself with the intensity of their passion. Marc's hand resumed its rhythm, faster, more intense.

'Now,' whispered Marc. 'Come for me. Show me that life can explode even at the edge of space...'

The orgasm hit Thomas like a supernova, radiating from his center to the confines of his being. His body tensed like a cosmic arc, his cry of pleasure muffled against Marc's shoulder.

'That's it,' whispered Marc, his hand continuing its caresses until the last wave of pleasure. 'So beautiful... so alive...'

Their seed floated in pearly drops in zero gravity, creating an ephemeral constellation of their passion. Through the porthole, Earth seemed to watch them, silent witness to their rebellion against fate.

'Seven minutes,' gasped Thomas, his body still trembling. His hand found the evidence of Marc's desire through his flight suit. 'Let me...'

'No time,' replied Marc, though his body betrayed his need. 'Later. We still have...' He stopped, the words 'seventy-two hours' hanging between them like a sentence.

They reluctantly separated, quickly erasing the traces of their passion with sterilized wipes. The return to reality was like a cold shower - the alarms, the red lights, the catastrophic data on their screens.

'ISS-274, this is Houston. Are you ready for transmission?'

Marc threw one last burning look at Thomas before answering, his voice remarkably steady: 'Affirmative, Houston. Transmitting new data.'

Their fingers brushed under the console as they resumed their roles as professional astronauts. But something had changed. In the module's confined space, between technical reports and emergency procedures, they had created their own universe, their own definition of life.

'Twenty-nine minutes until next contact,' whispered Marc when the transmission ended. In his eyes already shone the promise of their next rebellion against death.

The hours passed, marked by the relentless rhythm of reports to Houston. Between each transmission, their passion grew, as if each lost minute intensified their need for each other.

'Oxygen level at sixty-eight hours,' announced Thomas, his professional voice contrasting with Marc's hand gently caressing his neck, out of the cameras' view.

'Copy that, ISS-274,' Houston replied. 'Recovery teams are still working on solutions.'

Marc let out a bitter laugh when the communication was cut. 'Recovery solutions,' he whispered, pulling Thomas against him as soon as they were in a blind spot. 'They know as well as we do that it's impossible.'

'Twenty-seven minutes,' breathed Thomas as Marc's lips found his neck. 'We should check the auxiliary systems...'

'We should,' agreed Marc, his hands already sliding under Thomas's flight suit. 'But I prefer to check if you're as sensitive here...' His fingers found a hardened nipple, drawing a muffled moan from Thomas. '...as you were an hour ago.'

A new alarm triggered - another secondary system failing. But even imminent danger could no longer curb their desire. On the contrary, each alarm, each red light only fueled their need for each other.

'We're going crazy,' gasped Thomas as Marc pinned him against the module wall.

'No,' replied Marc, his eyes shining with fierce intensity. 'We've never been more sane. Life...' He pressed his hard body against Thomas's. '...real life, is this.'

Red lights multiplied on the control screens, like dying stars in their small universe. The module vibrated slightly, life support systems struggling to maintain their bubble of life in the spatial void.

'Air recycling system at 45% capacity,' Thomas announced to Houston, feeling Marc's hand tighten on his hip. 'Revised estimate: sixty-five hours of autonomy.'

The silence that followed on the radio was more eloquent than any response. They were losing time faster than expected.

'Copy that, ISS-274,' Houston finally replied. 'Continue Delta-7 procedure.'

As soon as the communication was cut, Marc violently pulled Thomas against him, their mouths finding each other in a desperate kiss.

'Three hours,' he whispered against his lips. 'We've already lost three hours of our seventy-two.'

His hands trembled slightly as he unbuttoned Thomas's flight suit. The urgency in his gestures was new, almost violent.

'Marc...' Thomas began, but was interrupted by another kiss, deeper, more possessive.

'I don't want to lose another minute,' growled Marc. 'Not a second. I want to feel you, taste you, possess you while we can still breathe.'

A new alarm sounded - the thermal regulation system showing signs of weakness. The module's temperature was already starting to drop, but their bodies burned with desire.

'Twenty-four minutes,' gasped Thomas as Marc's hands explored his bare skin. 'We should...'

'To hell with duties,' Marc cut him off, his teeth nipping at the junction of Thomas's neck and shoulder. 'The only thing we should do is live. Live so intensely that even death will have trouble stopping us.'

The temperature continued to drop, their breath beginning to form small clouds in the module's air. But their naked bodies radiated heat, defying the spatial cold trying to infiltrate their sanctuary.

'Eighteen degrees and dropping,' whispered Thomas between kisses. 'The thermal system is practically dead.'

'Then warm me up,' growled Marc, pressing his body against Thomas's. 'Make me forget the cold. Make me forget everything but us.'

Their damp skins slid against each other, creating delicious friction. In zero gravity, their bodies danced a sensual waltz, guided only by their desire and the heat they generated.

'Twenty minutes,' gasped Thomas as Marc's hand found his hard cock. 'The next transmission...'

'Can wait,' Marc cut him off, his mouth tracing a burning path down Thomas's chest. 'Houston can wait. The whole world can wait. But not this. Not us.'

Another alarm - sixteen degrees now. The cold bit at their exposed skin, but it only intensified each sensation, each caress becoming a blaze on their chilled flesh.

'I want to warm you from the inside,' whispered Marc, his voice hoarse with desire. 'Fill you with my heat until you forget we're drifting in the cold void of space.'

Thomas moaned, his body arching toward Marc's. 'Then do it,' he begged. 'Take me. Warm me. Make me feel alive while we still can...'

Marc's fingers, made feverish by urgency and desire, began preparing him, each movement a promise of warmth to come. Their breaths formed small clouds in the increasingly cold air, mixing together like cosmic nebulae.

'Fifteen degrees,' announced the onboard computer in its metallic voice, ignoring the passionate drama playing out in its innards.

'I don't care,' growled Marc, adding a second finger. 'I'm going to warm you up so much you'll forget what cold even means.'

Their bodies floated in the module's confined space, held only by the pressure of their intertwined limbs and their mutual desire. Through the porthole, Earth seemed more distant than ever, but the heat between them created its own universe.

'Marc,' pleaded Thomas, his body trembling as much from desire as from cold. 'I need... I need...'

'I know,' whispered Marc, withdrawing his fingers. 'I need it too. Need to feel you. To melt into you. To create our own sun in this cold void.'

The first contact of their bodies was like a stellar explosion, radiating heat that seemed to defy the laws of physics. Marc sank slowly into Thomas, their moans creating a symphony of desire that covered the constant beeping of alarms.

'So hot,' gasped Marc, his hips beginning a slow but deep rhythm. 'You're so hot around me...'

Thomas clung to Marc's shoulders, his body adapting to this welcome invasion. 'More,' he begged. 'Warm me up. Fill me. Make me forget we're dying...'

Marc's rhythm intensified, each thrust deeper, more desperate than the last. Their sweating bodies created fog on the porthole, momentarily veiling the view of the retreating Earth.

'Fourteen degrees,' announced the computer coldly.

'I'll warm you up,' promised Marc, his voice hoarse as he slightly changed the angle of his thrusts. 'I'll set you ablaze from the inside.'

Thomas cried out when Marc hit his prostate, pleasure exploding like a nova in his body. 'There!' he begged. 'Right there!'

Their bodies danced in zero gravity, finding angles impossible on Earth. Sweat beaded on their skin despite the cold, creating ephemeral constellations that floated around them.

'Twelve minutes,' gasped Marc, his thrusts becoming more erratic. 'Before the next transmission...'

'Then make me come,' moaned Thomas, his body trembling under the assault of sensations. 'Make me see the stars before we have to become... ah... professional again...'

Marc's hand found Thomas's cock, hard and leaking between their bellies. 'Together,' he growled. 'I want us to explode together. Like a supernova in this frozen wasteland.'

Their bodies gleamed with sweat in the module's semi-darkness, their moans covering the incessant beeping of alarms. Death prowled around their capsule, but in this moment, they had never been more alive.

Orgasm struck them simultaneously, like a chain reaction that could have powered their dying module. Thomas's body contracted violently around Marc, drawing his heat into the deepest part of his being.

'MARC!' Thomas's cry resonated through the module, mingling with Marc's animal roar as he poured himself into his lover's depths.

Their seed floated in pearly drops in the cold air, creating a miniature Milky Way around their entwined bodies. The sweat on their skin was already starting to cool, but the heat between them still pulsed, like the heart of a dying star.

'Thirteen degrees,' announced the computer, indifferent to their ecstasy.

'Eight minutes,' whispered Marc against Thomas's skin, his cock still weakly pulsing inside him. 'Eight minutes before we become dying astronauts again.'

Thomas turned his head toward the porthole, watching their planet inexorably drifting away. 'We're not dying,' he breathed. 'Not as long as we can feel this. Not as long as we can burn like this.'

Marc withdrew gently, but kept Thomas pressed against him, their naked bodies sharing their residual heat. 'Sixty-four hours,' he whispered, his lips tracing constellations on Thomas's cooling skin. 'Sixty-four hours to create a lifetime of burning memories.'

Their hands found each other in the growing darkness of the module, their fingers intertwining as if to defy the spatial void surrounding them.

'ISS-274, this is Houston. Are you ready for transmission?'

They separated reluctantly, their bodies protesting against the loss of heat as they quickly put their flight suits back on. But their crossing gazes already promised their next rebellion against the cold, against time, against death itself.

'Life support systems at 42%,' announced Thomas for Houston, his professional voice betraying nothing of the tremors still running through his body. Under the console, his free hand sought Marc's.

'Copy that, ISS-274,' Houston replied. 'Recovery teams continue their calculations.'

Marc squeezed Thomas's fingers, a gesture that said everything they couldn't express aloud. When the transmission ended, he pulled Thomas against him, ignoring the intensifying cold.

'You know what's ironic?' whispered Marc against his ear. 'I spent years training for this mission. Dreaming of space. And now...' He gently kissed Thomas's neck. 'Now, the only thing that matters is this. These stolen moments between reports.'

Thomas turned in his arms, observing Marc's features in Earth's bluish glow. 'They trained us to survive in space,' he breathed. 'But no one taught us how to really live.'

'Twelve degrees,' announced the computer, as if to emphasize the urgency of their situation.

'Twenty-eight minutes,' replied Marc, his hands already busy unbuttoning Thomas's flight suit. 'Twenty-eight minutes to live a lifetime before the next report.'

Thomas shivered, as much from desire as from cold. 'We should check the auxiliary systems...'

'What for?' Marc gently bit his neck. 'To gain a few more hours of pretending? Of playing professional astronauts while death watches through the porthole?'

'No,' whispered Marc, his hands tracing burning paths on Thomas's cold skin. 'The real mission is here. In every stolen kiss, every forbidden caress, every muffled moan.'

A new alarm sounded - another secondary system giving up its ghost. But the sound seemed distant, almost unreal compared to the solidity of Marc's body against his.

'Eleven degrees,' announced the computer.

Thomas let out a bitter laugh. 'Remember our training? All those hours spent learning how to handle emergency situations...'

'And now,' continued Marc, his lips finding a sensitive spot under Thomas's ear, 'the only emergency that matters is touching you. Tasting you. Losing myself in you before the next report forces us to become those suited automatons again.'

Their bodies floated in the module's growing darkness, creating moving shadows on the metal walls. Through the porthole, Earth was now just a distant jewel, as if she too accepted being merely a backdrop to their passion.

'Twenty-four minutes,' whispered Thomas as Marc's hands found the sensitive spots of his body he had already memorized. 'Twenty-four minutes to be real.'

'To be alive,' corrected Marc, his voice hoarse with desire. 'To be more than voices on a radio, more than data on a screen.'"

[TO BE CONTINUED...]