6. Mirren

6

MIRREN

T he fire crackled softly in the background, its light casting long, flickering shadows across the room. The storm outside had only intensified, wind howling like a beast in the night. It was a stark contrast to the strange quiet that took residence inside the outpost.

Mirren lay still, her back to the floor, hands intertwined across her breasts. Her eyes were glued to the ceiling as she carefully watched strips of reddish orange light dance across the room. The blanket was pulled loosely over her bare skin. Her pulse still raced, but not from the storm. Her mind spun, not from the remnants of sleep, but from the events that had unfolded in the small hours of the night.

It was from her .

It was as if the heat of Sawyer’s body had branded itself into her memory, the softness of her skin lingering on Mirren’s fingertips, the feeling of her hands and tongue leaving sparks slithering across her body.

Mirren stared at the ceiling, at those small flickers of warm light. She still felt the weight of what had happened, even hours later as she lay awake unable to sleep. She wanted to roll over, to look at Sawyer. Maybe even hold her in her arms, or at least press up against her warmth. Instead, she felt rooted in place.

A torrent of thoughts surged through her, mixing with emotions she didn’t have time to sort out. The mission, the storm, survival—everything she had been trained to focus on—had somehow slipped away. What had replaced it was Sawyer. Sawyer .

She hadn’t meant for it to happen, hadn’t expected to feel so out of control, but it was as if something had snapped, pulling her into a moment she could never take back.

Beside her, she could hear the subtle shift of blankets, the slow inhale of Sawyer waking up. A nervous energy ran through Mirren, stiffening her shoulders. She thought about pretending to sleep, to see if Sawyer would say or do something, but she couldn’t make up her mind. She still didn’t move, though. She couldn’t bring herself to break the quiet, to say the things hanging unspoken in the air.

Sawyer turned, facing Mirren, her eyes widening ever so slightly when she realized she was awake. Mirren froze under her gaze. A long, pause stretched between them, and Mirren’s mind raced, trying to grasp for some semblance of normalcy.

What now? Was she supposed to speak? Should she even acknowledge what had happened? Part of her, the stubborn part, wanted to brush it off, shove it aside as a fleeting, impulsive moment. But there was another part of her—one that terrified her—that wanted to embrace it, to linger in it. To recognize what happened as being as special as it felt.

“Hey,” Mirren whispered, daring to break the silence first. Her words arrived in a voice that was soft, hesitant. She immediately mentally scolded herself for not saying more, as if there was more to say, let alone something that would wipe away the awkwardness.

Sawyer didn’t say anything for a moment. There was a faint blush on her cheeks, a sign that she, too, was feeling the weight of the moment.

“Hey,” Sawyer finally managed to respond a minute later, her voice rougher than she intended. She sat up, the blanket slipping off her shoulders as she reached for her discarded thermal shirt. The cold air bit into her exposed skin, bringing a stark contrast to the heat that had consumed them just several hours before. She needed the shirt—needed something to ground herself.

Mirren sat up too, pulling the sleeping bag around her shoulders. She averted eye contact as she and Sawyer both got dressed, as if she hadn’t explored every inch of Sawyer’s exposed skin with her tongue the previous night. Her hair was a tousled mess, falling in loose waves down her back, and she noticed Sawyer’s gaze fixed on it.

Inevitably, Mirren couldn’t help but sneak a peek at Sawyer as she dressed, turning her head just barely as Sawyer tugged her muscular leg through her pants and began to walk over toward the fire. It was strange, seeing Sawyer in this light—so raw, so unguarded. A far cry from the collected, sharp-witted woman she’d first met. The tension between them now felt...different. More fragile.

“So…” Mirren began, but then she paused, her lips pressing together as if she wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. So… What? Where did they go from here? Sawyer shifted awkwardly, pulling the shirt over her head and running a hand through her short, dark hair. She could feel the awkwardness settling between them, thick and tangible. She hated it—hated that something so… intense , something that had felt so right in the moment, could now feel so uncertain.

“Look,” Sawyer started, her voice gruff as she struggled to find the right words. “About last night…”

Mirren glanced down, biting her lip. “Yeah…about that.” She exhaled deeply, her breath visible in the frigid air. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to complicate things. I mean, we were just?—”

“It’s not your fault,” Sawyer interrupted, her voice a little sharper than she meant. She rubbed the back of her neck, her nerves getting the best of her. “I’m the one who...I mean, I should’ve known better.”

Mirren’s gaze shot back to her, blue eyes widening in surprise. “Known better? What’s that supposed to mean?” There was a tinge of hurt in her voice, and Sawyer inwardly cursed herself.

“I just…” Sawyer struggled, feeling like she was digging herself into a hole. “You’re under my command. We’re out here on a mission, and this—what happened—it shouldn’t have.”

Mirren’s face softened, but there was still a guardedness in her eyes. “So, you regret it?” she couldn’t help but ask. She wanted to not be hurt by that possibility, but the way her heart throbbed as she awaited an answer was an undeniable tell. It may have been impulsive, stupid…but the sex meant something , right? It had to be more than just sex, more than the irresponsible mistake that Sawyer’s words suggested it was.

For a few minutes, Sawyer seemed to struggle to find the right words. The longer she waited, the more the silence drove Mirren crazy. At this point, she was about to tell Sawyer not to answer at all, that the silence was telling enough, before Sawyer finally broke it.

“I don’t regret it,” Sawyer said, her voice quieter now. “I just…I don’t know what this means. For us.” Sawyer’s eyes searched hers, finding a mixture of relief and something else—something vulnerable.

“Me neither,” Mirren admitted, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. It felt as if she was saying she had lost the load on her shoulders. “But I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. I can’t.”

Silence settled over them again, but this time it wasn’t quite as heavy. Mirren let out a small, nervous laugh, her breath misting in the cold. “This is really awkward, isn’t it?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Sawyer’s mouth. “Yeah, just a bit.”

Mirren relaxed slightly, her shoulders lowering as the tension began to ease. “Well, I guess awkward is better than ignoring it completely.”

Sawyer grunted in agreement. She stood up, adjusting her thermal pants and glancing toward the small window. The storm was still relentless, the snow coming down in thick, blinding sheets. They were still trapped—isolated—and now, the tension between them had shifted to something far more complicated.

“We should check the supplies,” Sawyer said, her voice reverting to its usual matter-of-fact tone. Mirren knew it was easier to focus on the practical, on the mission at hand, even though scenes of last night kept flickering to the front of her thoughts. “The storm doesn’t look like it’s letting up any time soon.”

Mirren nodded, pushing herself up and wrapping the blanket tighter around her before reluctantly letting it go. She dressed quickly, though her fingers were still shaking slightly from the chill—and from the lingering emotions that still hung between them.

As they worked in silence, inventorying the supplies and checking the structural integrity of the outpost, Mirren continued to sneak glances at Sawyer. She couldn’t help it. Every small movement, every quick flicker of her eyes, tugged at something inside her. She tried to push it down, but it was no use. The barrier had been broken. What happened last night had changed their professional relationship, and whether it was for better or worse, it was hard to decide just yet.

Sawyer seemed to sense her gaze, but instead of pulling away, she met Mirren’s eyes with a small, tentative smile. It was as if they were both testing the waters, trying to find a new equilibrium.

By the time they finished checking the last of the storage crates, the tension between them had shifted again—this time to something softer, more familiar. The awkwardness had given way to something almost comfortable, though neither of them acknowledged it out loud.

“We’ve got enough food for a few more days, but the stove’s gonna need more fuel if this storm doesn’t let up soon,” Sawyer said, closing the supply crate with a solid thud. “I’ll get more firewood from the shed.”

Mirren frowned, her brow furrowing. “I’ll come with you.”

Sawyer shook her head. “No need. I’ll be quick.”

“I’m not letting you go out there alone,” Mirren insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’ve already been through enough. I’m not taking any chances.”

Sawyer blinked, caught off guard by the firmness in Mirren’s voice. There was a determination in her eyes that left no room for argument, and for a moment, Sawyer felt a surge of admiration. Mirren wasn’t just the calm, analytical meteorologist she’d first met. She was fierce, stubborn, and undeniably strong.

“All right,” Sawyer said, grabbing her coat and pulling it over her shoulders. “Let’s go, then.”

The second the pair stepped out into the freezing, wind-whipped night, the cold hit them like a wall.

Mirren felt anxious the second the chill began to nip at her skin. She had already begun to shiver five minutes into their walk. She tried to fight the cold, but her thoughts were too consumed by the woman walking beside her, the one who’d somehow managed to break through all the walls she’d built around her.

And as they trudged through the snow, side by side, Mirren couldn’t help but wonder where they would go from here.

The weather was horrific. Already their hair was starting to clump together and cover with frost. Sawyer kept her head down, her breath coming in short bursts, misting in the air as she trudged through the deep snow. Mirren followed closely behind, her footsteps crunching softly. The wind howled, whipping snowflakes into their faces and making it nearly impossible to see, but they pressed on toward the small storage shed near the edge of the outpost.

As they reached the shed, Sawyer stopped to unlock the door, fumbling with the key in her gloved hands. Mirren stood beside her, silent but watchful, her gaze occasionally flitting toward Sawyer as though she was about to speak but then thought better of it. The awkwardness from earlier had eased, but there was still an unspoken weight between them—a tension neither could quite define.

Sawyer swung open the shed door, revealing stacks of firewood neatly piled along the back wall. She stepped inside, the cramped space offering temporary relief from the wind. She coughed a few times, and began gathering logs into her arms.

“So,” Mirren’s voice broke the silence, tentative but clear, “I’ve been thinking…”

Sawyer glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

Mirren shifted her weight, her hands tugging at the edges of her coat. She didn’t know what had compelled her to start speaking, but it was almost as if she was out of her control. “About last night. And about us.”

There it was. The thing neither of them had really wanted to fully address, and yet, it had been hanging over them all morning.

“Mirren, look, I?—”

“No, wait.” Mirren held up a hand, stopping Sawyer mid sentence. Her heart battered furiously against her ribcage. “Let me finish.”

Sawyer closed her mouth, nodding for her to continue.

“I don’t regret what happened,” Mirren said, her voice steady but soft. She felt her throat threaten to close up, but she pushed through it. “Not even for a second. I’ve been thinking about it, and I know it’s complicated. We’re stuck out here, we’re on a mission, and there are a million reasons why this could get messy. But…” She trailed off, her gaze falling to the ground for a moment before meeting Sawyer’s eyes again. “But I don’t want to pretend it didn’t mean something. At least, not to me.”

Sawyer’s throat tightened. Her mind raced. The same thoughts had been plaguing her all morning, the same push and pull between her duty as a soldier and the undeniable connection she felt toward Mirren. Part of her wanted to shut it down, to keep things professional, to stay in control. But another part of her—one that was growing louder by the second—didn’t want to lose what they’d unexpectedly found in each other.

“I don’t want to pretend either,” Sawyer finally said, her voice low but firm. “I just…I don’t know what this means for us. For the mission.”

Mirren took a step closer, her breath misting in the cold air between them. “We’ll figure it out. Together. We’ve already made it through worse, haven’t we?”

Sawyer’s lips twitched into a small smile.

“Yeah,” Sawyer agreed, her voice softening. “We have.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the cold air swirling around them, but Mirren didn’t feel the chill anymore. All she felt was the warmth in Sawyer’s eyes, the unspoken promise between them. It was a strange, fragile thing—this connection they had—but it was real.

And despite her instincts to protect herself, to keep her guard up, to focus on nothing other than her work, Mirren realized she didn’t want to let it go.

“Come on,” Sawyer said, breaking the moment with a gentle nudge. “Let’s get this firewood inside before we freeze out here.”

Mirren smiled, her cheeks flushed pink from both their conversation and the cold. “Good idea.”

They gathered the rest of the logs in silence, working together in the small, cramped shed. The awkwardness from earlier had faded completely now, replaced by something quieter, more comfortable. Mirren had to resist the urge to grin widely, pleased with the conversation going better than she thought, going perfectly.

They made it back to the cabin, their boots tracking snow across the floor as they stacked the firewood near the stove. Sawyer busied herself with lighting the fire while Mirren lingered in the quiet, blowing hot air into her cold hands.

When the fire finally crackled to life, casting a warm glow across the room, Sawyer stood up and turned to face her. Mirren was standing near the window, staring out at the snow-covered wilderness, her arms wrapped around herself.

“You okay?” Sawyer asked, her voice softer now.

Mirren turned, offering a small smile. “Yeah. Just…thinking.”

Sawyer crossed the room and stood beside her, following her gaze out the window. The storm was relentless, the wind whipping snow in all directions, but inside the cabin, it was quiet. Safe.

“What are you thinking about?” Sawyer asked, keeping her voice low.

Mirren hesitated for a moment, then shrugged, her chest tight. “About how different everything feels now. How different we feel.”

“It doesn’t have to change everything,” Sawyer said, her tone measured, though she wasn’t sure if she believed her own words. “We can keep things?—”

“No,” Mirren interrupted, her voice firmer than before. “I don’t want to keep things like they were. I don’t want to go back to pretending like I don’t care about you. Because I do. And I think you care about me, too.”

Sawyer looked surprised and it took her a moment to reply. Mirren understood. Neither of them could imagine having such strong feelings for another person that they’d only met the day before.

“I do care about you,” Sawyer said, her voice quiet but steady. “More than I should.”

Mirren stepped closer, her hand brushing lightly against Sawyer’s as her mind whirled with all the reasons this was dangerous. “Then let’s stop pretending.”

But then she looked into Sawyer’s eyes—those striking emerald eyes—and all of those reasons seemed to fall away.

“Okay,” Sawyer breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. She neared her hand closer to Mirren’s, then dared to finally hold it.

Mirren peered down at their conjoined hands, then looked back up to lock their gazes. She smiled softly, before she leaned forward and pressed her lips against Saywer’s.

The kiss was unlike their first time, surprising and unexpected, or the second time, desperate and hungry. As their lips joined together, the kiss was slow, tender, passionate. Mirren’s hands raised to gently latch onto Sawyer’s cheeks, which prompted the older woman to wrap her arms around her waist and pull her close until Mirren was on top of her.

Mirren closed the distance between them entirely as she pressed her body against Sawyer’s, then moved her thighs so that she straddled her waist, feeling the heat grow in her middle with every passing second. She craned her neck downward, deepening their kiss, parting her lips to allow entry for Sawyer’s tongue to dance with hers.

For the first time since the storm had hit, everything felt calm. The tension, the awkwardness—it was all gone, replaced by something real , something solid. They weren’t out of the storm yet, but they had each other.

This time, Sawyer took the lead. Her fingers slid under the edges of Mirren’s shirt, pulling it off with ease. Her hands, which lay on Mirren’s hips, swam up her body to grip her breasts. Mirren moans against Sawyer’s mouth in response before the older woman pulled away, pressing kisses alongside her jaw and down the column of her throat while her fingers begin to play with her sensitive nipples. It wasn’t long before Sawyer trailed her kisses down Mirren’s chest and her mouth met one of her nipples.

“Sawyer…” Mirren moaned, squirming under the sensation of Sawyer’s tongue lapping at her sensitive nibs. She let out a tiny, breathy laugh in pleasure as the older woman gently grazed her nipple with her teeth, then grabbed Sawyer’s face to bring it back up to hers. “I want you… Please, I need you.” The anticipation was working her up.

Sawyer smiled, then pressed her lips against Mirren’s once more. This time, the kiss was hungrier than before. One of Sawyer’s hands gently held onto Mirren’s throat, while the other crept down her stomach and slid past her waistband, into her panties, and began to rub circles on Mirren’s clit, slipping around in her wetness. Mirren moaned loudly, breaking from the kiss. Her arms wrapped around Sawyer’s body, pressing their bodies to one another as Sawyer increased the pace.

“Please…” Mirren whimpered, but she didn’t know what she was pleading for. All she knew was that she wanted more of Sawyer. She wanted to feel her, taste her, be fucked by her… hard.

It was all Sawyer needed to hear. She lifted Mirren into the air and placed her on top of the sleeping bags. She planted kisses on her stomach, trailing them farther and farther down in synchrony with her removing Mirren’s pants until she was able to shake them off her ankles. After the pants and underwear were discarded, Sawyer wasted no time, her mouth finding Mirren’s clit with a feral need.

Mirren moaned even louder as Sawyer quickly picked up the pace, licking back and forth against her clit with a pressure that felt completely right. Sawyer’s fingers separated Mirren’s folds, soaking up her juices before her fingers lingered at her opening, teasing her.

“Please,” Mirren pleaded fully this time, too desperate to wait any longer. Sawyer responded by shoving three fingers inside of her all at once, and Mirren immediately arched her back and cried out in pure bliss. Sawyer began to push her fingers in and out with a rapid pace, all while she alternated between sucking hard and drawing wet circles on Mirren’s clit.

Sawyer’s free hand crawled up Mirren’s stomach to pinch her nipple, while she pressed her mouth harder against Mirren’s pussy, adding even more delicious pressure. Her eyes raised to watch Mirren’s face closely as she sucked on her clit, smiling against her slick folds as she watched the way her expression changed when she switched to licking it.

“You’re so beautiful,” Sawyer purred as she came up for air, the tip of her tongue lightly pressing on Mirren’s clit as she watched her. “So…perfect.”

Sawyer picked up her pace, added what felt like most of her hand and began to pound into Mirren relentlessly, brushing up against her g-spot over and over. Mirren couldn’t stay still to where Sawyer held her down, using her arms and elbows to keep her in place with her legs spread wide apart.

“Oh my god,” Mirren winced, her fingers pulling on Sawyer’s hair. “You’re so good at this.”

Mirren felt entirely taken apart by her, as though the need to be fucked like this was everything she had needed all her life.

She felt wide open for Sawyer’s hand and she lost herself in the sensations flooding her body, enjoying how her whole body jolted every time Sawyer thrust into her.

Finally, it became too much, and Mirren couldn’t help but cry out as the pressure became too much. She was pushed over the edge, her entire body nearly convulsing as she rode out an intense orgasm, even more heavenly than the night before.

Sawyer pulled away from Mirren’s middle, wiping her mouth and then placing tender kisses on the inside of the woman’s thigh as she watched her catch her breath. “How was that?” Sawyer asked, more so to tease her than to genuinely ask.

Mirren huffed a tiny, tired laugh. “Perfect,” she purred, leaning over to press her lips against Sawyer’s, tasting herself on the woman’s tongue. “My turn.”

Sawyer grinned, then leaned back on the sleeping bag, allowing Mirren to take the lead. Mirren giggled as she lifted Sawyer’s shirt over her head, wasting no time latching her tongue onto one of her nipples. Sawyer let out a soft breath, closing her eyes and relishing in the sensation of Mirren’s wet tongue on her sensitive nipples, lifting a hand to hold the back of Mirren’s head as she worked.

Mirren’s hands slid down her sides, pulling Sawyer close against her by her hipbones until their bodies touched, then made quick work of removing her pants and underwear. She parted her lips from Sawyer’s nipple, trailing kisses up the crook of her neck before connecting their lips once again. One of her hands wrapped around the back of Sawyer’s neck, while the other slid down her body and toward her pussy.

Sawyer let out a soft moan as Mirren’s fingers put pressure on her clit, rubbing it back and forth. She pushed further into Mirren’s hand, who picked up the pace with no warning.

Mirren’s fingers left Sawyer’s clit just momentarily, spreading apart her slick folds to insert a finger inside of her. Sawyer moaned aloud as Mirren entered her. Mirren started with a steady pace, in and out, while she moved her thumb to massage her clit with small, fast circles that got progressively harder and faster.

Sawyer put her hands on the floor to steady herself, pushing her body deeper into Mirren, closing her eyes from the pleasure.

Mirren picked up the pace, and the noises Sawyer made drove her crazy. Mirren stroked her finger in and out, increasing her pace by the second before inserting her middle finger and ring finger as far in as they would go, eliciting a cry from Sawyer. She slid in and out, faster and faster, until she was going as fast as she could go, the speed and tempo in synchrony with rubbing her clit.

“Oh, ah, I-I’m right there,” Sawyer said breathlessly. “I’m getting close…”

Sawyer’s back arched toward her as she let out a series of moans, and Mirren could feel her walls tighten around her fingers. She didn’t slow her pace, putting immense pressure on Sawyer’s g-spot every time she entered.

“ Fuck! ” Sawyer cursed, her breath drawing in dramatically as her whole body exploded in orgasm. Every part of her tensed and relaxed around Mirren’s fingers in waves. Her body quivered and tingled from her head to her toes in pure pleasure. Sawyer panted heavily, then pushed herself forward to collide her lips with Mirren’s in a wet, sloppy kiss. Mirren’s fingers didn’t quickly leave Sawyer’s pussy, as she instead slowed her pace down gradually, helping Sawyer to ride out her intense orgasm before her fingers finally left.

“How was that?” Mirren asked with a smirk as she temporarily broke from the kiss.

“Perfect,” Sawyer said.