Chapter 9: Her Kiss Made Me Forget the Blackout Sky
The city had woken up in fragments. Streetlights blinked on as if apologizing for last night's blackout, traffic signals pulsed back to life, and the hum of electricity returned like a soft heartbeat beneath the urban noise.
Aria sat cross - legged on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through a deluge of notifications: emergency alerts, friends checking in, viral videos of panicked crowds juxtaposed with cheerful selfies of strangers claiming everything was "fine now."
The Wi - Fi was back, though slower than usual, cutting in and out as routers rebooted — a reminder that the blackout had left more than empty streets; it had left subtle fractures in daily life.
Beyond the window, the sidewalks were sparsely populated. People walked with earbuds in, coffee cups in hand, glancing at their phones as if scanning for reassurance.
Delivery scooters wove through traffic cautiously, drivers navigating around overturned bins or traffic cones that hadn't been cleared. The city smelled faintly of wet asphalt and coffee, a comforting normality layered over a strange tension.
Jules leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping a mug of steaming tea, eyes flicking between Aria and her own phone.
"Newsfeeds are insane this morning," she said, voice low, careful. "Half the city's acting like nothing happened. The other half…" She shook her head, swiping a finger through the air. "Total chaos."
Aria's thumb paused on the screen, catching a notification about train delays, a snapped photo of an empty plaza, a trending post about "everything being under control." Her stomach twisted.
She knew better. Last night hadn't been contained. The streets hadn't been cleaned. The danger hadn't vanished — it had just gone digital, hidden under hashtags and filtered images.
Jules reached over, brushing a stray lock of hair from Aria's eyes. "You okay?" she asked softly. Aria nodded, though her fingers lingered over the phone, mind split between the glow of the screen and the sharp, uneasy rhythm of reality beyond the glass.
The morning after the blackout felt like waking inside a dream that was too vivid to be fully real. Light filtered through the blinds unevenly, splashing across the floorboards, which had grown uncharacteristically silent.
The low growl of roamers in the alley below, the scraping of stray footsteps in the hall, the subtle creak of floorboards responding to wind — everything had vanished.
Instead, a low, steady hum filled the apartment: the refrigerator somewhere in the kitchen, its compressor sharper than she remembered, precise in its new quiet. After hours without electricity, normal life seemed foreign, almost intrusive, reclaiming territory that had felt hers alone during the blackout.
Jules stirred beside her, hair splayed across her cheek in soft, careless waves. She stretched slowly, arms above her head, fingers flexing as though testing the air. Her eyes caught the sunlight through the blinds and then fell on Aria. A sleepy smile curved her lips. "It's quiet," she murmured, voice rough with sleep.
Aria nodded, gaze drawn toward the street below. Fewer people than usual moved along the sidewalks, orderly in their steps. The scene didn't match the chaos she remembered from last night.
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she reached for her phone on the nightstand. The screen lit instantly, warm and familiar. Notifications stacked up: news alerts, group messages, social media updates from friends, some panicked, some cheerful.
"Government Declares City Secure."
"Riots Subdued — Arrests Made."
"Officials Urge Citizens to Remain Indoors."
She scrolled quickly. The official statements claimed the so - called "rioters" — what she knew were roamers — had been contained. "No ongoing threat to public safety," a spokesperson said.
"Essential services have been restored." Her stomach twisted. They were bending the truth. She had seen what hadn't been caught, what still prowled the streets.
People were already posting cheerful photos: coffee cups balanced on café tables, dogs on leashes, friends sitting on benches.
The streets looked calm in every video, the few pedestrians smiling, waving at phones. Everyone else appeared relieved, but Aria felt a cold weight pressing in her chest. The city might have moved on, but she hadn't.
"They're gone," Jules said softly, leaning over Aria's shoulder to see the screen. Her tone was gentle, careful.
Aria kept scrolling, spotting videos from last night: chaos, panic, guttural noises — but all had vanished from timelines, buried under brunch posts, morning jogs, hashtags celebrating life. A collective digital erasure.
"They didn't get them all," Aria whispered, barely audible, as if speaking louder could summon the danger back.
Jules tilted her head, eyes searching hers. "Hey," she murmured, cupping Aria's cheek. "We're safe for now. That's all that matters."
Aria met her gaze, but the reassurance she wanted didn't arrive. There was still heaviness in her chest, a sticky, airless pressure as though the apartment itself hadn't exhaled the fear that had filled it. Jules brushed her thumb over Aria's lips.
"You're tense," she said softly.
Aria tried to laugh, brittle and uneven. "Maybe."
"Not maybe," Jules countered, low and certain. "I know exactly how to fix this."
She leaned in, lips brushing Aria's slowly at first, teasing, testing. Aria's breath hitched. Jules's hand slid up her thigh, gentle pressure shifting higher, untangling the tight knot of tension in her stomach. Heat replaced the fear, pooling and spreading.
"Stay with me," Jules whispered, guiding her back onto the mattress. Their bodies pressed close, leaving no space between them. Her voice was a breath at Aria's ear, grounding her.
Aria closed her eyes, letting Jules anchor her. Lips brushed her jaw, fingers tracing along skin. When Jules's lips met hers again, it was hungry and urgent, drawing out every coil of tension. Her hands clenched the sheets as Jules's fingers traced beneath her shirt, each touch electric.
Aria gasped when Jules cupped her, a small, unbidden sound escaping. Jules's lips curved into a smile against hers.
"That's it," she murmured. "Let go for me."
Slow, deliberate touches, each wave of heat building on the next. Aria's hips lifted instinctively; her breath hitched again, pressure building, invisible but insistent.
She clung to Jules's shoulders, nails digging in as the first crest hit, a soft cry escaping before she could stop it. Jules moved with her, guiding her through each wave, lips trailing down her neck, hands coaxing her higher.
By the third wave, Aria was barely able to speak. Her body trembled beneath Jules's rhythm. She reached for her, drawing her close, pressing lips with urgent fire, matching each pulse.
When they paused, foreheads pressed together, Jules brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Feeling better?"
Aria exhaled, shivering slightly. "You've got a talent for making me forget everything," she admitted, voice low.
Jules pressed her lips to Aria's again, softer this time, playful. "Good. But I'm not finished yet."
A blush warmed Aria's cheeks. "Then I guess I'm in trouble," she murmured.
Her hands slid down Jules's sides, guiding her onto her back. Straddling her, moving slow but deliberate, Aria found a rhythm, hips matching Jules's movements, soft sighs blending with whispered gasps.
Time in the apartment seemed to stretch, the rest of the world fading entirely. Every touch, every kiss, every motion tied them closer. Aria traced every curve, memorizing the feel, while Jules mirrored her, lips and hands roaming, coaxing her nearer.
Moans and whispers filled the quiet room. Aria's body responded instinctively, heat building faster than thought. She pressed down, matching Jules's subtle guidance, moving with intention.
The first peak hit sharply, and she clung to Jules as tremors ran through her. Lips traced her jaw, hands steady, guiding her toward the next crest without pause. Every touch deliberate, measured, full of silent love.
Breath came shallow and rapid, hands gripping, nails tracing along her back. Movements synced, a dance of rising heat. By the third peak, Aria was shuddering uncontrollably, shivering yet craving more.
Jules held her close, lips and hands unceasing, coaxing every pulse until the tremors faded. Collapsing against Jules, skin flushed, hair damp, lips swollen, she finally exhaled.
Jules brushed her forehead with a kiss. "Better?"
Aria leaned into her, voice soft. "Always. But… I want more."
Jules laughed, brushing her fingers through her hair. "Then we'll give you more," she murmured.
Outside, the city tried to return to normal, but inside, time bent to their rhythm, every heartbeat syncing, every touch a balm against lingering fear.
Far away, Selene moved fast. The city where Aria stayed was tightening under government control. Barricades rose, train lines halted, flights rerouted. Officially, "biohazard containment." Unofficially, isolation closing in.
Her phone buzzed: the window to enter the city was shrinking. Adjusting her route, weaving through quiet streets, she noticed armed patrols in her rearview mirror — military, rifles ready, hunting something beyond petty crime.
Selene gripped the wheel tighter. She felt the pull toward Aria, stronger than ever, sharpened by worry. Aria needed to be ready for the next stage of the outbreak, and Selene would make sure she was.
Back in the apartment, Aria rested against Jules, breathing uneven, skin flushed. Jules's hand traced slow circles along her back. Beyond the walls, streets were unnaturally quiet. Occasional gunfire sounded, reported as part of "safety operations."
Aria pressed her lips to Jules's shoulder. "It's too quiet," she whispered.
Jules kissed her hair. "Then let's not think about it. Not right now."
Aria closed her eyes, letting the world shrink to the warmth between them, the weight, the intimacy, letting herself exist only in the quiet heat of their connection.
The sunlight shifted gradually across the apartment, brushing the walls with warmth that didn't quite reach the corners where shadows still clung. Aria's skin prickled under it, though it wasn't cold.
There was a contrast between the calm inside and the pulse of the city beyond. From the window, she could see a few figures moving along the sidewalks, cautious, watching the edges of their surroundings.
The news described peace, containment, safety, but her gut told her otherwise. Every instinct screamed that what had been released during the blackout hadn't vanished, just hidden.
Jules noticed the change in her expression, tightening slightly where she held Aria against her. "You're thinking about the street again," she murmured.
Aria rested her head against Jules's shoulder. "I can't stop," she said softly. "Everything out there looks… normal. But it's a lie. I saw it last night."
Jules pressed a kiss to her hair. "Then let's not dwell on it. Just for now. You're here, I'm here, and it's just us. We can breathe."
Aria let herself focus on the feel of Jules beneath her, her heartbeat steady against her own. She could hear Jules's breath, even it rising and falling in sync with her own.
Every touch, from the gentle press of their shoulders to the tips of their fingers tracing idle patterns on skin, felt grounding, real, like an anchor against the chaos beyond their walls.
"You feel different this morning," Jules said, tilting her head up to meet Aria's gaze. "Less tense than last night, a little… softer. Did it finally hit you that we're okay?"
Aria shook her head lightly, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "I don't think it's that simple. My body feels… like it remembers the danger even if my mind wants to pretend. Like there's a memory I can't reach."
Jules nodded knowingly, her hand lingering along Aria's arm. "Then let me remind your body that it's safe. We'll take it slow. No rush, no expectations, just…" She paused, pressing her lips briefly to Aria's forehead. "Just this."
Aria leaned into the gesture, inhaling the scent of her hair, the faint warmth of skin. She allowed herself to sink into the mattress with Jules, letting the quiet of their apartment act as a buffer from the rest of the city.
The sunlight shifted again, brushing golden stripes across their bodies, highlighting every curve, every line, every small movement.
The soft buzz of Aria's phone went unnoticed at first, resting face - up on the nightstand. Eventually, the vibration nudged her awareness, but she didn't reach for it immediately.
Her hands were occupied tracing the line of Jules's shoulder, memorizing the feel, the warmth.
When she finally did glance, it was notifications stacking rapidly: updates from friends, messages from concerned strangers, alerts about transport lines being closed, all of them coated in a false calm. The city was tightening around them. The quiet was not peace — it was preparation.
Jules noticed her shifting gaze. "Don't," she said softly, covering Aria's hand with her own. "Not yet. Later we'll deal with the world. Right now, it's just us."
Aria nodded, exhaling shakily. "Right now, it's just us."
She leaned down, pressing a kiss along Jules's jaw, slow and exploratory, letting the warmth spread across her chest. Jules's hands followed instinctively, sliding over her back, pulling her closer.
The intimacy wasn't just physical; it was a reassurance that she wasn't alone, that someone else shared the weight of fear and uncertainty.
Every kiss, every brush of skin against skin, started to unwind the tension that had lodged itself deep inside her during the blackout. Her fingers tangled in Jules's hair, nails catching slightly on strands as she shifted closer.
Jules responded, lips tracing along Aria's collarbone, hands coaxing her toward a rhythm that neither of them needed to speak aloud. Their bodies communicated in ways words couldn't capture, a language of touches, pressure, and quiet moans that filled the empty spaces of the apartment.
The sounds from the streets below occasionally intruded — a distant siren, the soft rumble of engines — but inside, it was a different world. Inside, time slowed.
Each second stretched, expanded, filled with heat and warmth. Aria could feel every brush of Jules's fingertips, every weight of her body pressing into hers, the tiny shifts and subtle movements that made her pulse quicken.
"I never want to leave this moment," Aria whispered, her voice low, trembling slightly.
"You don't have to," Jules replied, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes, eyes locked on hers. "We can stay right here as long as we need. Just breathe with me."
Aria did, inhaling slowly, feeling the tension in her shoulders loosen with each exhale. Jules's hand slid to her side, tracing delicate patterns, guiding her body with subtle shifts that made her chest tighten and release at the same time. There was no rush, no expectation — just presence, intimacy, connection.
They moved together in tandem, adjusting, exploring, discovering new angles, new ways to touch, each response building on the last.
The rhythm wasn't mechanical; it was alive, unpredictable, a series of tiny crescendos that left Aria breathless, not from desire alone, but from the sheer intensity of the shared focus, the trust, the closeness.
Her fingers slid over Jules's back, memorizing every line, every curve, while Jules mirrored her touch, lips roaming, coaxing, guiding, and anchoring her. Whispered confessions of need and reassurance punctuated the quiet room.
"I can feel you," Jules murmured, her lips brushing Aria's ear. "I feel every shift, every shiver, every heartbeat."
"Then don't stop," Aria whispered back, voice trembling. "Don't ever stop."
The apartment seemed to hum along with them, small noises — the hum of the fridge, the soft click of the radiator, the faint tick of the clock — melding with their breaths and gasps.
Beyond the windows, the city pretended to sleep under the illusion of order. Inside, every inch of skin pressed, every heartbeat counted, every breath synchronized, building a cocoon that insulated them from fear.
Hours could have passed, or maybe just minutes; time was meaningless here. Each wave of movement, each shift of weight, each soft sigh or moan threaded them closer together.
Aria's chest rose and fell against Jules's, skin pressed to skin, lips brushing in a rhythm that required no words.
When the final tremor of tension and heat subsided, Aria collapsed fully into Jules, her body slick with exertion, heart racing, chest tight, breath uneven.
Jules's hands traced slow circles along her back, brushing hair from dampened cheeks. Aria's fingers lingered in hers, clinging to the warmth, the reassurance, the grounding presence.
"We'll always have this," Jules whispered, brushing her lips across Aria's temple.
"I know," Aria said, voice low but steady now. "I know. And I want more. Always more."
The streets beyond stirred with false normalcy. Social media posts and news clips painted a picture of calm, smiling citizens, contained chaos.
But Selene's eyes traced the perimeter from miles away, noting barricades, halted trains, rerouted flights. Military checkpoints and patrols glinted under the rising sun, the official line of biohazard containment a thin veil over the reality of isolation.
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she adjusted her route, weaving along smaller, quieter streets, constantly scanning the edges for patrols.
Every reflection in mirrors, every glint of metal, reminded her of the urgency. The city was sealing in, cutting off exits, and Aria needed to be ready before it was too late.
Inside the apartment, Aria finally closed her eyes fully, letting herself drift in the cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Jules's fingers tangled in her hair, her thumb brushing along her cheek, lips pressing softly against her temple. It was a quiet promise, a tether in a city full of lies and danger.
"Always," Aria whispered, her voice barely audible, "we'll always have this."
Jules pressed her lips to her own once more, slow, steady, grounding. "Always," she echoed, and in that repetition, in that shared warmth, the blackout, the chaos, the city outside, the world itself seemed to pause.