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The Luofu glittered under lanternlight and crystalline banners, a breathtaking celebration of interstellar diplomacy and shared knowledge. Scholars and dignitaries gathered beneath moon-glass chandeliers, toasting with gilded flutes and discussing theories most could barely comprehend. Dr. Ratio wasn’t fond of such displays.
He much preferred the sterile clarity of a lab over the noise of a ballroom but Ruen Mei had insisted on attending—“an opportunity to gauge intellectual rivals in their natural habitat,” she’d said. Naturally, she glided through the crowd like she belonged there, every word calculated, every smile precisely calibrated. She was radiant tonight.
Her usual lab coat had been traded for a sleek indigo dress that shimmered like dark matter, elegant without being showy. A thin chain traced the curve of her back. Her hair was swept up, revealing the sharp line of her neck. Ratio told himself he was observing, not admiring.
That resolve crumbled when he saw her laughing—genuinely laughing—with an astronomer from the Divination Commission. The man was charming, polished, handsome in that overly symmetrical way Ratio found suspicious. Worse, he was leaning close. Too close. Ratio sipped his drink, jaw clenched. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. This was why he didnt like socializing with people below him.
Then the astronomer touched Ruen Mei’s wrist lightly while pointing out a constellation through the glass ceiling. She tilted her head in interest.
Ratio’s eye twitched.
He crossed the floor with silent steps, not fast, not slow—just inevitable. He appeared beside them like a stormcloud.
“Dr. Ruen Mei,” he said evenly. “You’ve been difficult to locate.”
She turned, a glint in her eye. “Veritas. You could’ve messaged.”
“I prefer direct observation.”
The astronomer—Li Zhen, Ratio recalled—smiled smoothly. “We were just admiring the Salsotto formation. Fascinating convergence of myth and mathematics.”
“I prefer facts to fairy tales,” Ratio said, gaze flat.
“Oh, don’t be cruel,” Ruen Mei said, swirling her drink. “I enjoy a good myth now and then. Especially when it reveals more about the speaker than the subject.”
Ratio’s eye flicked to the astronomer’s hand, still lingering near hers. “Some myths are born from projection.”
Li Zhen raised a brow. “Are you suggesting I’m seeing what I want to see?”
“I’m suggesting you’re mistaking fascination for familiarity.”
The tension crackled. Ruen Mei, ever graceful, stepped in with a light touch to Ratio’s forearm.
“Veritas,” she said softly, “walk with me?”
He nodded, and they drifted away from the crowd, past a wall of crystalline flora pulsing faintly with energy.
Only then did she speak again. “You were scowling.”
“He was undisciplined.”
“He was harmless.”
“That’s rarely an asset.”
She turned to face him, the overhead lanternlight casting soft shadows across her features. “You’re not subtle when you’re irritated.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
Ruen Mei’s lips curved. “Do you know how often I get flirted with at these events?”
“I’m aware.”
“And you always interfere?”
“Only when it’s unwelcome.”
She arched a brow. “So you’ve appointed yourself judge of that?”
He stepped closer, voice low. “Tell me I was wrong.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped even closer, until their reflections merged in the glass behind them.
“You do realize,” she said, voice like silk, “that people are watching.”
“Let them,” he replied. “It saves me the trouble of issuing formal claims.”
Her eyes lit with amusement—and something warmer. “So this is formal now?”
“I’m simply establishing boundaries. Scientific integrity, after all.”
Her fingers brushed his lapel, adjusting it unnecessarily. “You’re terribly possessive for someone who claims to dislike social attachments.”
“I never said I disliked yours.”
Silence fell between them—not cold, but electric.
Then Ruen Mei laughed softly, brushing past him to rejoin the gala. Ratio didn’t follow immediately. He just watched her go, eyes burning like a star collapsing inward. He didn't understand her but he wanted to spend forever trying. That was a hopelessly illogical thought so he pushed it away and followed her. They mingled more and he relaxed, being near her people assumed things. He saw a scientist looking at her too interested so he put his arm around her back to ensure they didn't over step. Finally the night ended. They left to their transport ship and when they found themselves alone she turned to him.
"You're awfully touchy tonight Veritas," she started, letting it rest in the air.
"I just don't like how they look at you,"
"Hm, is that it? Why so?"
"I'm sure you can figure it out, I dont know why you have to be coy about it. Them putting advances on you doesnt further your goals." he looked away from her to the ground.
"Most people want to settle down, lots of them are respectable scholars who share my values. Who's to say that isn't one of my goals"
He looked back to her scowling, Hardly on your level," he repeated, as if the words themselves offended him. “They fumble through their theories like children playing with explosives. You think that is worth your time?”
Ruen Mei stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “They admire me. Respect me. You think that’s nothing?”
“I think they see your brilliance and want to possess it without understanding it. You deserve better.” His voice dropped into something raw, barely restrained.
“And you understand me?” she asked, tilting her head, gaze burning.
“I try to,” he admitted. “More than anyone else ever will.”
There was a long silence. The air between them simmered. The hum of the ship’s systems faded into the background, irrelevant compared to the quiet thrum of tension in the small space.
She stepped into his space again, leaving no air between them now. Her breath ghosted against his chin. “You’re possessive, Veritas.”
“I’m precise,” he murmured. “I know what has value. I don’t let it go.”
Her hand slid up his chest slowly, fingertips grazing the fine fabric of his coat. “You’ve never said this out loud before.”
“I’ve never needed to,” he replied. “But if I have to spell it out to keep their hands off you…”
“You don’t,” she whispered, and her hand curled into his lapel, yanking him forward.
Their mouths crashed together in a collision of pride and suppressed longing. It was not gentle. It was weeks—months—of restrained glances and half-spoken challenges unraveling all at once. Ratio’s hand tangled in her perfectly pinned hair, pulling free the clips without a thought, while her fingers gripped his collar and anchored herself to him like she meant to keep him there forever.
She pushed him back against the wall, lips parting his, breath hot. He let her, let her take control for a heartbeat—before reversing it, pinning her between him and the bulkhead. Their kiss deepened, desperate, intelligent people finally surrendering to the one thing they couldn’t rationalize.
“Do you always test hypotheses this thoroughly?” she gasped between kisses.
He kissed her again instead of answering, hand sliding along her jaw. “Only when the data's worth it.”
Her laugh was breathless, swallowed by his mouth again. Fingers curled into his hair now, pulling just enough to make him groan.
It wasn’t just desire. It was frustration, admiration, rivalry, and affection all rolled into one impossibly sharp equation—one they could never quite solve, only feel.
Eventually, when breathlessness forced them apart, she rested her forehead against his.
“You’re a damn hypocrite, Veritas.”
“Only with you,” he muttered. “And it’s infuriating.”
Her lips curled, still inches from his. “Good. I’d hate to be the only one losing control.”
He kissed her again, slower this time—but no less intense. This was far from over.
His mouth was on hers again before either could pretend to have restraint. This time it wasn’t sharp or retaliatory—it was hungry. Ruen Mei arched into him, hands sliding beneath his coat, fingers trailing over the lean planes of his waist. Ratio’s breath caught; even now, he was analytical, registering every shift of pressure, every responsive hitch in her breath like data points—data he craved.
She tugged at his collar, impatient now, and he shrugged out of the coat, letting it fall to the floor with a thud. Her hands were already at his shirt, deft fingers slipping buttons loose with a speed that made him grin against her lips.
“You’ve done this before,” he murmured, his voice rough.
“I’m efficient,” she breathed, before biting his lower lip—not hard, just a warning.
Ratio responded by grabbing her waist, turning her, and pressing her back against the smooth paneling of the ship wall. His thigh slid between hers, pinning her, holding her just where he wanted. She gasped softly at the contact.
“You don’t get to be the only one with leverage,” he said lowly.
She smiled wickedly. “You sound jealous again.”
“I am,” he admitted, his mouth trailing down her jaw, “but I’m channeling it productively.”
Her dress was smooth beneath his hands, cool fabric over warm skin. He traced the line of her back, following the chain that dangled there, then slipped beneath it to find the zipper. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second, giving her room to stop him.
She didn’t. With a quiet rasp, the zipper slid down. She moved against him deliberately as the fabric loosened, baring one shoulder, then the other. He kissed the newly exposed skin as though it were sacred text he needed to read with his mouth.
Her hands, not to be outdone, found his belt and made quick work of it, dragging him closer. Their bodies aligned, heat building fast and merciless between them. Their movements became more urgent, precise and chaotic all at once—two brilliant minds unraveling each other one layer at a time.
“Still think social attachments are inefficient?” she whispered, breath hot against his ear.
Ratio gritted his teeth as her hand slid lower, stealing his ability to speak. “Exception… noted.”
Clothes became irrelevant. Logic evaporated. The only thing left was sensation—her gasp as he lifted her, her nails raking across his shoulders, the sound he made when her teeth found his neck. They didn’t bother making it to the bed in the next room. Not yet. This moment was about claiming—about answering every stolen glance and repressed impulse with skin and breath and friction.
And when she finally pulled him into her fully, there was no more space for banter—only soft gasps, whispered names, and the raw, consuming heat of two people who’d waited far too long.