Choosing Chuckles

by Cynthia Sax

  Chuckles stood straighter, widening his stance and flexing his muscles.

  As she perused him, he looked at her, noting the pink pigment on her cheeks, the rise and fall of her full breasts, the appealing width of her hips, how her blue boots matched her flight suit. She was adorned with a clear crystal this planet rotation, the stone hanging between her curves.

  And she appeared calm, too calm for a female trapped alone on a shuttle craft with an unknown cyborg warrior, cut off from the rest of her team.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re not afraid.”

  “Should I be afraid?” She swept her fingertips over her breasts. Her hands trembled, that movement barely perceptible, even with his superior senses.

  He relaxed slightly. She had some fear of him. “I would never cause you permanent damage.” He would take her over his knee and apply his hand to her backside until she vowed to behave. But that wouldn’t cause lasting damage to her pale skin. “You’re mine.”

  “Am I yours?” She gazed up at him, her eyes large and so very blue.

  “Yes.” He stepped closer to her. Her warmth reached out to him. Her cock-hardening musk grew stronger.

  As did the scent of Qershi blooms.

  He sniffed the air, took another step toward her. “Why does the air smell like flora?”

  Not waiting for her reply, he lowered his head, tracking the fragrance. His nose brushed over her hair, her cheeks, her neck. There. He inhaled deeply. It was strongest on the delicate skin below her right ear.

  “I have a liquid derived from crushed Qershi blossoms.” Her fingers danced along his shoulders, her light touch enchanting him. “I dabbed a little of it on me, seeking to please you. Do you like it?”

  “I prefer your scent.” But he could tolerate the crushed Qershi blossoms. He mouthed over that spot, tasting the remnants of the dried liquid as well as the salt of her skin.

  Her fingers threaded through his hair, that action reminding him of her earlier words, her promise to hold his face against her breasts.

  That would happen, but first he’d disarm his female. “Give me your gun.” He lifted his head and met her gaze.

  “Why would I have a gun?” She lied without looking away, without blinking.

  His female had a gift for deceit. That didn’t please him.

  “Give the weapon to me.” He held out his right hand.

  Her eyes flashed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She swept her palms over her contained curls.

  Light reflected off metal.

  He caught her right wrist, slipped his fingers between fabric and smooth, supple skin, and removed the tiny gun hidden there. It had been set on stun.

  The tight knot of emotion in the pit of his stomach unraveled. His female hadn’t planned to kill him.

  The communications she’d previously sent, the messages he’d read with cyborg speed when he accessed the shuttle craft’s systems, had stated the predators, as they referred to their victims, were to be stunned.

  But those were words, and humans, unlike cyborgs, had the ability to lie.

  Her actions reflected her truth, confirmed the words. She’d set her weapon to stun.

  His female wasn’t seeking to end his lifespan. She wasn’t that malevolent. But she had meant him harm.

  That damage would have been emotional only.

  If his female had stunned him, he would have been immobilized. The organic side of him would have been frozen, his arms and legs unable to move.

  His machine side would have continued to function. His vision and auditory functions would have been unaffected.

  He could have still sent transmissions while he was stunned, could have requested assistance from Truth and Captain and the rest of the crew.

  They would have rescued him.

  He would have been mocked until the end of his almost endless lifespan. His lips twisted. He should lock his female in his chamber and never release her.

  “I don’t know where that gun came from.” Her laugh was shaky.

  “It came from your sleeve.” His tone was dry. “Where you had hidden it.”

  He placed his prize in a holster by his heart. His female’s weapon was small enough to share the space with his much larger gun.

  She looked at him for a moment as though she was considering her next move. He waited. Whatever she tried, he was confident he would outmaneuver her.

  Her gaze softened and her lips curved into an appealing pout. His female was a danger to herself and every living male.

  “Are you mad at me, Chuckles?” She ran her hands over her breasts, drawing his attention to them. “Have I been naughty?” She batted her eyelashes. “Are you going to punish me?”

  “You have earned multiple reprimands.” He would deliver them one by one until she admitted the error of her ways and promised to change.

  “And how are you going to reprimand me?” She threw those words at him as though it were a challenge.

  His female was taunting the wrong being.

  He grasped her shoulders, unable to keep his hands off her. “I’m going to take you back to my ship and tie you to our sleeping support.”

  Her eyes widened. Her nipples were so taut they were visible through her flight suit. “What will you do with me then?” Her small pink tongue darted over her blue-tinted lips. “Will you…spank me?”

  The flare of heat in her gaze told him that possibility aroused her.

  Fraggin’ hole. It aroused him too. “You’re a bad female.” He pulled her to him and crushed his lips against hers, seeking to silence her, reprimand her.

  She opened to him, letting him into her hot mouth, and wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him. He whipped her with his tongue, pouring all of his frustrations into her, and she took her punishment with a pleasing eagerness, moaning her contrition, her sounds stirring the vortex of emotion inside him.

  Her deception, his aching left knee, the rest of the universe, was forgotten as he branded her with his nanocybotics, that distinct part of him claiming her as his.

  Breeding with her would solidify their connection, make it unbreakable. No other cyborg could touch his female after he found release inside her.

  This first transfer was a declaration of intent, a warning to others.

  This female belonged to him.

  She might be bad, but she was his, and he would kill any being who damaged her. His fingers splayed over her back as he held her to him.

  Her breasts flattened against his chest. Her stomach pressed against his constrained cock. He pushed his booted feet between hers, widening her stance, and lifted his damaged knee until she straddled him.

  “Yes.” She rocked against him, her cloth-covered pussy pressed against his thigh. “Good. That feels so good.”

  The contact gave him pleasure also. The position transferred all of his weight to his fully functional leg, alleviating pressure on his left knee. The heat of her permeated the body armor, delving into his ravaged muscles. Her erotic massage loosened the stiffness.

  He couldn’t bend his knee fully. She didn’t seem to care about that as she moved against him. And as she weighed nothing, less than a missile launcher, she added little strain on his leg.

  With her, he felt newly manufactured, like a whole warrior. He kneaded her ass, directing her movements as she rode him. Her panting echoed in the small space. Her lips parted. Her eyes darkened with passion.

  His female was glorious, her colors vivid and her enjoyment uninhibited. The crystal bouncing between her breasts split the light, painting the walls with brightness, dazzling him. Her scent coiled around him, female with a hint of flora.

  He lowered and lifted his knee. Her breath hitched, her body stiffening. He repeated that action again and again, slowly increasing the ferocity of the contact, until he was spanking her flight suit-covered pussy with his muscle-hardened thigh, the slap, slap, slap of their bodies matching the rhythm of her panting.

  “Close. So close.”
She held onto his shoulders, her back arching.

  He should stop. She had sought to betray him. He should be punishing his bad female, not rewarding her.

  But he hadn’t the heart to deny her release, and he wanted her to know what she’d receive if she behaved, if she stopped her lying and deception.

  He drove his thigh upward, grabbed her hips, and ground her against him. She screamed, flinging her arms behind her, gyrating, twisting, and shaking. Her breasts spilled out of her flight suit. They were as wonderful as he’d imagined, pale and full with delicate pink nipples.

  His balls ached, the urge to strip her completely naked and find release inside of her threatening his control. Now was not the place because…

  His head snapped upward. He lowered his leg and tightened his grip on his female a moment before the shuttle craft shuddered.

  Someone was boarding the vessel.

  “Is that one of your associates?” He turned to face the new arrival.

  His female leaned against his back, her chest rising and falling, her breathing ragged. “You and I are the only beings here, baby.”

  “I’m not a human offspring.” He listened intently and scanned the space. The being was humanoid and was now inside the shuttle craft, moving at faster-than-human speeds toward them. “There’s a large humanoid approaching us.” His fingers curved around two of his gun handles. “Is that being a threat?”

  “Chuckles, calm down.” Fabric rustled behind him.

  He was calm, calmly preparing to kill the newcomer. “Is the being a threat?” He repeated his question. “Be truthful or I will reprimand you.”

  “I think I might like that…bae…sir. A little too much.” She whispered that confession.

  “Female”—he barked at her, his patience frayed—“am I killing the humanoid?”

  “Don’t kill anyone, sir.” Cool metal pressed against the back of his neck.

  His female had drawn a gun, aiming it at him. The communications mentioning one weapon had clearly contained false information. She must have had two weapons, and he hadn’t searched her because he was a fool, distracted by her scent, her touch, her big blue eyes.

  And now he couldn’t spare even the brief moment it would take to disarm her. Because the newcomer was visible.

  The being approaching them with guns drawn was a large female Dracheon warrior. Dracheons were faster and stronger than lying little humans. They had long sharp claws and breathed fire so hot it turned even the most sparkly of flesh to ash.

  If he moved and the Dracheon was a hostile, his fragile human female would die, the ending of her lifespan demolishing all his hopes for a companion, for offspring, for caring.

  He couldn’t take that risk.

  “I’m protecting you, female.” He braced his booted feet against the tiled floor, readying himself for the upcoming attack. “Don’t shoot me.”

  “I know you think you’re protecting me, sir.” She sighed, her warm breath wafting over his nape. “I’m so sorry about this.”

  A jolt hit his form. Energy crackled over him. All of the sensory input on his fingers, face, any exposed skin, eerily stopped.

  He tried to lift his arms, move his feet; was unable to do that.

  Fraggin’ hole. His deceitful female had stunned him.

  If he could grit his teeth, he would have done that. But that wasn’t possible. His jaw was frozen in place, as was the rest of him.

  He could observe her, hear what she had planned for him, learn more about the dishonorable being he’d linked his lifespan with.

  Knowledge about the enemy often won wars. He stared straight ahead of him. She might have been triumphant in this battle, but he would emerge victorious in all future skirmishes.

  And there would be future ones. Because she was an absolute menace.

  Once he’d retrieved all of the intelligence he required, he’d swallow his pride and contact Truth.

  He would be rescued. She would be captured.

  He’d redden that lush ass of hers. She wouldn’t be able to sit down for ten planet rotations when he was done reprimanding her.

  Then he would lock his lying little human up. Forever.

  Chapter Four

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Bettina balanced on the toes of her boots and pressed her lips against her cyborg’s nape, tasting metal and male. “She would have hurt you and I couldn’t allow that to happen.”

  Her new endearment for him—sir—felt right.

  He might want her physically. The impressively large bulge in his body armor attested to that. But he was different from the other males. He had sought to protect her, putting himself in peril for her.

  Having been responsible for herself, for others, for so long, it felt good to have someone safeguarding her, to be someone’s baby. She had enjoyed that experience for one delicious moment.

  And then she had stunned him. To protect him.

  The flames burning in Keeper’s eyes as she approached them told Bettina her cyborg had been in danger. He might still be at risk.

  She couldn’t stand by while he was harmed.

  Her heart pounded as she slipped around his big body, positioning herself between him and the Dracheon. The female terrified her. But Chuckles was her responsibility.

  She shielded him as best as she could with her smaller form. “I stunned him. You don’t have to use your weapons.”

  “Your Chuckles is a fuckin’ cyborg.” Keeper waved her guns at the male. “They’re some of the fiercest warriors in the universe, were created for one purpose only—to kill other beings. I have to use my weapons. Stunning won’t stop him.”

  “It did stop him.” Bettina lifted her chin. “He can’t move, can’t hurt us. We’ll treat him like we treated all the other procurement beings.” She couldn’t call him a predator because he wasn’t one of those.

  “We will not treat him like all the other procurement beings.” Keeper glared at her, the furious Dracheon a frightening sight to behold, her eyes blazing with fire, her scales rattling. “We will jettison his half-human, half-machine ass, send him into open space. Then we will repair the shuttle craft, which he has ripped apart, and focus on the next being.”

  No being she knew could survive being jettisoned into space. Bettina tightened her grip on her gun, prepared to use it if that was necessary. “We’re not killing him. We haven’t ended a lifespan since I joined the team and we’re not starting now.”

  “You haven’t ended a lifespan. I have.” Keeper’s muttered words were barely audible. “I’m not transporting a cyborg. No way. That risk isn’t worth the credits.”

  “I’m accompanying you on this transport.” As this was her last procurement, she was hitching a ride with the Dracheon. She would be dropped off on an occupied planet far from the one the beings they’d trapped were unloaded on. “I’ll guard Chuckles.”

  “You couldn’t guard your own ass.” Keeper made her opinion of Bettina’s skills known. “And you certainly can’t guard a cyborg. When he regains mobility, he’s going to be pissed. He’ll kill us both before we know he has freed himself.”

  He would be angry. The procurement beings always were. Bettina glanced over her shoulder. His eyes gleamed…which was impossible as he was stunned.

  “Then I’ll stun him again.” That would feed his rage. She pressed her lips together, the prospect that her cyborg might hate her making her unhappy. “I’ll ensure he doesn’t regain mobility until we release him.”

  “I don’t care what you do, Bait.” Keeper crossed her big arms. Her guns remained in her hands. “Stunned or even dead, that cyborg isn’t getting on the ship with me.”

  Bettina gazed at the Dracheon. The female gazed back at her, her expression communicating she wasn’t moving on her decision.

  Chuckles had to be transported. He couldn’t remain on the shuttle craft.

  And she had to accompany him. The moment she left his side, he would be in extreme danger. Keeper would jettison him without hesitation. The fem
ale hadn’t been bluffing about that.

  “Then I’ll complete the transport alone.” Bettina decided, that decision frightening her, yet feeling right. “Both of us don’t have to be on the ship.”

  She could do it. Smarts had ensured they cross-trained on each other’s roles. Her flying skills were adequate, and she knew the unloading process.

  “You’d have to return with the ship.” Keeper didn’t outright reject her proposal. That gave her hope. “You might not be dropped on a planet for another set of procurements.”

  Her freedom would be delayed for forty or more planet rotations. Bettina glanced at her cyborg again. But he would be safe, and her conscience would be clear.

  She sighed, knowing she had to do this. “Then I’ll keep my role for that duration.”

  Smarts would like that. She was having challenges filling the position.

  The female they’d trained had fallen in love with a merchant she’d met while on a break. She’d backed out, leaving the team. The alternate hadn’t yet obtained the required skills to hold the role.

  Keeper eyed her. “You won’t be compensated for the transport.”

  She had assumed she wouldn’t be compensated. “I’m fine with that.”

  The female harrumphed and gazed at her for a moment. “Why are you doing this, Bait?” Keeper asked the question she had been asking herself. “If you were Dracheon, I would assume he was your fated mate, the one male you were destined to bond with. But you’re human. Your kind doesn’t have fated mates. And he’s a stranger, nothing to you.” She twitched her head in Chuckles’ direction.

  Was the cyborg nothing to her? Bettina touched her lips. She suspected that wasn’t true.

  The bubbling inside her had started when he’d kissed her, and it hadn’t stopped. Her desire, which should be sated, had already revived. There was a connection between them, one she couldn’t explain.

  “He’s a being.” She settled on that reason for her actions. “I can’t allow him to be killed.”

  “You’re too soft-hearted for this universe.” Keeper shook her head. “It will end your lifespan.”