These halls stretch on forever at night. You would say they were empty, except for the cold fluorescence and the electric hum that falls gracefully from them, almost palpable. Silent wraiths pass one another in the night, a momentary disturbance in the sterile ether. Nothing more. So goes the night shift in this place.

Most of the time.

As full dark approaches, that most muted of moments before 3 a.m., fatigue threatens to take them; sights and sounds merge nearly to one and are lost in the soft echoes of voices more expected than heard. She sees him at the opposite end of the hall, bathed in that light, a mirage in motion, little more.

He sees her, too.

Tension grows gently between them as they approach, a small wake in the cold hum surrounding each until they pass, momentarily becoming one, lingering before pulling apart as the distance grows. A trace of each is left with the other: the scent of her perfume, the shadow his jawline makes on his neck. She closes her eyes and releases the breath she had captured in her chest but he can't hear it for the pounding in his chest.

The night goes on.

The 16th floor: endless banks of servers and cables. The cold steel doors of the elevator open, she's inside, hes out. Time stops, but not long enough. They stare as the doors start to close. Each reaches to catch the door, the backs of their hands gently brushing, passing some otherworldly current between them. Somewhere behind him a machine stops working forever. It will have to wait.

Standing beside her and slightly behind he says nothing as she clears her throat, letting a small nervous smile pass over her mouth. It matches his; he doesn't know she can see its reflection in the doors. He'll learn to pay attention to these things, one of these days. The elevator rises to the top floor. Both needed to go down but forgot to press the button. These things happen. The doors part on the 34th floor and she grabs his hand, laughing as she pulls him through them. They run for the stairs that go to the roof, her in the lead, him stumbling to keep up. Up the stairs they bound, bursting onto the roof.

In an instant they're surrounded by the breathtaking skyline at night, as sounds rise up from below, so distant as to be nothing more than white noise lost in the wind. It's warm, but not hot, not cold. She peels off her top in one swift motion as she walks towards the edge, but the wind carries it away in an instant, and it's lost to the dark below. She laughs so freely at this and as she turns, he is there, kissing her. She pauses a moment, for no other reason than to absorb the moment, standing on the roof in the wind, above the 34th floor with the whole city at her command. He has the whole city to view as well, but he can only look at her. She sees it. Him, looking at her that way, oblivious to the rest of creation and she stops absorbing the moment and lets it absorb her.

Maybe people can see them, maybe not. Who cares? She kisses back.

The roof top is gravel, but the roof ledge is wide and flat, but rough, like a 5 o'clock shadow at 7 p.m.. Wide enough for two, in the right position. She'll be damned if her bare back is going on that roofing texture and she moves him towards it, pinning him down with her body. He playfully resists, but only because she would expect no less. She's biting her lower lip as he takes off his shirt and folds it beneath his head. She's kissing him again, deep and warm as they shimmy out of other things, so many things in the way.

She lays flat upon him, never touching the hard roof, but very much touching every curve of him. From 350 feet up no one can hear the soft cry that escapes her as they slip together. His hands are braced above him, hers palm to palm, pinning him down. She likes his hands on her, but she likes control a little more at the moment. The thought occurs to her that if she falls, she is so taking him with her and laughs softly at that. He sees it in her eyes, and resolves not to let anything happen to her, not just now but ever.

They move together, secure in each other and they forget all about almost everything else. The full moon slowly rises with their passion and illuminates them in the most peculiar way. Strange reflections from steel and glass coat them and they reflect as well, as a fine sheen glistens on their rhythmic bodies. His hands move with hers to their sides and she uses them for leverage, giving her a slight shift, perfect.

His face is getting flush in the pale light of night and it makes her smile deviously, bringing a sense of urgency to her motion. She knows her face must match his, because his smile is no less devious, the flexing of his hips no less urgent. He bites his lip.