by Lucas
He smoothed his hand up her side to slip behind her neck and hold her in place. Clara’s pulse thrummed under his thumb.
She moaned as he squeezed, his teeth skimming along her jawline.
“You smell so good,” he groaned out, his grinding thrusts matched the cadence of his words. “Tart and claimed.”
Clara’s body writhed beneath him, driving him closer to the brink, his balls clenching to pour his seed—seed he was about to release, coded to seek out what it needed and do its job.
The first sperm he’d release that wasn’t programmed to die the moment it left his system.
“I’m close,” Clara whimpered.
He turned his face to cover her mouth with his own. He opened his eyes and met her hooded, desperate gaze. His shaft jumped and her sheath clamped down on him.
Reid reared up and withdrew from her body. Before she could utter a sound, he spun her around, yanked her forward, and slammed back into from behind as soon as her feet hit the ground. And with the heart-shaped vision of her ass being pounded, he let his beast free and rutted.
Clara screamed and grabbed the slat, her knuckles white on either side. When his name echoed through the room with pleas and cries, he joined the frenzy with his own grunts.
A stinging bliss melted his core, heating his tech to dangerous levels, and a single bead of sweat dripped from his brow.
“Ready?” he sneered and reached around to pinch her clit. Her butt jumped up in answer, her back arched and stiffened. Yeess. Clara’s body answered his question.
A low, rumbling growl escaped him and he vibrated his finger over her swollen bud, shifted his angle for his cockhead to hit her g-spot. Dozens of years of pressure left him, expelled completely as her body tensed, and when her sweet cunt quivered in submission, his shaft joined her in release.
Cybernetic currents of ejaculate shot out, spurting like a faucet into her and he felt it surround his cock, getting everywhere, and filling her up. Reid pressed his hand into her back and held her firmly into the medical slat, letting his cock spill, expand, and take effect. Clara’s body lost all tension and she sagged under the pressure, and soon the scent of her climax eclipsed all other smells in his head.
He continued to roll his hips, spreading his cum throughout, but no longer in a bruising way.
“That was...”
“The best fuck of your life?” he finished for her between his teeth.
“Yes.”
Reid knew the moment she was seeded, when his DNA found its goal and took over. A part of him connected to the cyber cell as it morphed with her egg, changing it into something inhuman. Into something that was his. His hand pressed her harder into the bed while he waited for completion. Waited for his claim on her to solidify. The muscles in her back twitched but she didn’t fight him, couldn’t even if she tried.
When it was over, he roared and released her, streaking his nails down her pale back until his hands cupped her ass and squeezed. His eyes flashed and he saw red, staring at his cock still shallowly pumping into her stretched sheath. Already ready for me? For more?
Clara lifted up and looked back at him, eyes wide and frazzled. “Reid?”
He smirked and squeezed her ass one last time before he slipped out. “Success.”
She didn’t move from her bent-over position as he stepped back and surveyed everything that was now his.
“H-how can you tell?”
“It only takes once.” He grinned, satisfied, like a young Cyborg who had experienced sex for the first time, finding that it was as good—better—than warring. She frowned and pursed her lips.
When she moved to turn, he stopped her. “Stay!”
“Why?” The questions in her eyes deepened.
“I want to remember you like this. A post mounting from a mutt,” he muttered as his eyes left her beautiful violets to look back between her spread legs and the soft, roughly-used quim still in full view. “You’re still in heat, aren’t you?” He couldn’t help himself.
Clara settled on her elbows and brushed her wild hair over her shoulder. A shoulder and side neck that were marked red from his teeth. He briefly reached up and slipped his fingers over his marks and through her tangled strands.
She snorted. “I’ve never known someone like you. The things you say...”
Reid smirked and kneeled between her legs. When she jerked, he stopped her. “I said. Stay.”
“This is embarrassing me!”
“Clara, dear, you just let your doctor rut you so hard into a medical pod that the cushion on top will never be the same again. And this embarrasses you?” He watched fascinated as her whole body trembled and her buttocks and calves tightened. “You are embarrassed.” I like it. He leaned in and filled his nose with the mixed scents of their sex.
“You would be too if you were in this position!”
“If your face was inches from my cock? Your lips dying to taste it? I don’t think so.” Her sex clenched and as it did, a bead of excess sperm appeared and trickled out.
“I hate this. I hate this. Stop saying things to make me squirm.” But her tone and her body said otherwise. Reid watched his seed continue down her inner thigh until it stopped.
“I like making you squirm.” He flicked her clit once and lifted back to his feet when she moaned. Before she could stand, he retrieved a cloth and cleaned her up. When he was done—tossing the cloth into hazard waste—he helped her upright and they eyed each other in stifled silence. The room grew chill again and when Clara lifted her arms and covered her breasts, he couldn’t hold back his grin.
“Still embarrassed?”
“You’re an asshole.”
He grabbed her arms and tore them from her chest. With a strangled squeak leaving her lips, he buried his face between her breasts and pressed them together. Reid urged her back onto the pod’s edge once more as he suckled and teased, spending the time he should have before worshiping her lush curves. It was almost too easy how quickly she stopped protesting. Too easy when she leaned back onto her hands and allowed him to feast at his leisure. Too easy to bring the strong heady scent of her arousal back. He lavished and nipped her peaks until they were raw, until the color of them matched the color of the marks on her neck.
And when her legs spread for him again, he slipped inside, taking back every delicate inch of her tender flesh.
The rest of that afternoon he made sure he did his job, and that he did it well. And plied Clara with enough of his seed that she’d never be without it again.
Chapter Eleven
He left her in his bed, soft and well-loved, the marks of his claiming all over her body.
Reid sat next to her, uncomfortable in the after-throes and with the cuddling, unable to find a position to relax because a niggling sensation of guilt tapped at his gut. He used her. She used him. He gritted his teeth thinking that they were equal in that matter but they weren’t. He ran his palm down his face.
Clara had fallen right to sleep as soon as he laid her on his bed—he remained wide awake. The metal in his body longed to release and reform, shift and resettle, to make him back into the canine he was so he could find peace and sleep with his—
With Clara.
His mutt had a better sense of smell, a sense of hearing that was intensified. His beast had a simpler state of mind, an alert one in which he was not bogged down by everything that made him a man... and a machine.
Everything is easier when I’m not human.
Reid shifted his teeth in and out, his claws as well, finding the process moderately relaxing. He kept his back to her, afraid he’d wake her and take her again.
Even now, after everything, after the consumption of her body, submitting to his dominance, and even after he started on the long and tedious trek to claim everything of Clara’s—starting with her body and her desires—he was restless, his beast growling to prowl.
Reid gritted his teeth and stopped himself, having already risen from the bed and circled the edges of t
he room twice.
Restless.
His eyes shot to Clara turning over on his bed, burrowing deeper into his covers. He moved to loom over her vulnerable, sprawled frame and sniffed the hair that lay across his pillows, calculating each of his movements so he wouldn’t accidentally touch her.
She won’t hear me, smell me, know in any form that I’m here.
Reid read her movements, willed his internal tech to scan and access every part of her at every moment. If Clara awoke, he’d know. If a heavier breath escaped her lips, he’d know. If her foot twitched.... he’d know.
He knew a lot already, almost everything when it came to her physically, but now that she was his and part of his pack—the idea he didn’t want to acknowledge because it felt so fleeting—he wanted to know her mind.
His eyes left her face, his nose her ear, and trailed down over her exposed neck, keeping his lips a hairsbreadth from her skin and giving whisper kisses to the messy tendrils of hair that resided there. His heart recalibrated to beat with hers, weak and slumbering. Reid stopped before he nuzzled.
But his fingers trailed up one of the blankets covering her, and gently slid it off her right arm. It was so easy. Clara slept in a prey position, clasping one of his blankets between her arms and legs, lying on her side. Her backside would be exposed if it weren’t for the other sheets on his bed. The position did stop him from burrowing his nose between the gap of her breasts but he didn’t mind, releasing the need to do so with one quiet groan.
He continued his descent down the run of her elbow, close to her vein, and followed it back up where her fingers were cinched under her chin.
If she wakes up... he wouldn’t be able to stop the sudden fear that would crash through her, seeing his face in front of hers. A survival reflex. I do so like the smell of fear.
And seeing Clara’s violet irises wide and bright, terrorized for an instant before comprehension dawned, it wouldn’t be able to stop him from covering her and taking her again.
She fears Santino, not me.
With the metal wires vibrating behind his teeth, Reid took a heavy step back and eyed her from a safe distance away. There had never been a woman in his den before—nor anyone. Her pale skin and soft curves amongst his sheets brought forth a horrible need to trap this moment for eternity.
The wires strummed harder, practically begging him to shift. He glared at the cement walls, ceiling, and floor on all sides of him, disgusted. There was nothing of comfort, nothing besides his bed.
His suits were hung in a closed, attached closet to the adjoining bathroom that was just as cold and uninviting as the rest. Even the air was cold. The whole damned facility could’ve been a cross between a mechanical plant and a prison if no one looked hard enough.
Reid paced, his bare feet hitting that cold cement he was coming to dislike. Can babies tolerate cement? I’m going to have to get a rug.
There was one piece of furniture in his room besides the bed, and that was a metal nightstand where his hardware was stored, and a gun.
Anything else he had was stored elsewhere in the facility. He kept several EMPs stored throughout, smuggled in when he first began working here because he knew one day they would be needed. A Cyborg needed to protect the secret of cybernetic children. The information he kept hidden and the rest that he fabricated would someday be outside the reach of his keeping. He trusted none but another Cyborg with it, and a Cyborg would never take his position willingly.
Seeing Clara in his space filled him with unease. It also filled him with satisfaction.
Reid’s lip jerked. He was a mal-crafted anomaly even for his own kind. If anyone was going to make cybernetic humans by natural law—it would be Cyborgs. Not humans.
But until that day of severance came, they’d hide what they knew and continue to work alongside their creators amicably.
“We are, after all, part human too.” He checked Clara over once again, obsessively, sensing her REM cycle at its deepest state and moved to redress, trapping the canine further behind a man-suit that then put on another... suit.
When he fixed his tie into place, he allowed one last, lingering breath to fill his nostrils and his memory. Bliss. Berries and seed. Clara’s berries buried among and entwined with his smell gave him ownership of it.
He quietly lifted his bedside gun and holstered it behind the lapel of his jacket, keeping his eyes on the woman in his bed the whole time. She mumbled and stretched her half-exposed leg outward, shifting the blanket back to reveal the thin white edges of her scarring.
Santino didn’t know he was going to die tonight.
He was filled with a sick sort-of glee.
Clara’s words replayed in his head as he walked backwards toward the door. “Go ahead, kill Santino, make it long and painful.”
Oh, dear Clara, you know how to woo me.
The door zipped open—without a sound—and he stepped back and into the hallway. It closed the same way, hiding her from his eyes. The lock clicked into place loud enough for only him to hear and he turned away. The ventilation system partially cleared his nose, and with it, his head.
Reid found Marsha and her girlfriend, Natalie, several barricaded security doors away and stormed into their room without announcement or hesitance.
They were awake, startled, and jumpy in that way only past trauma made a person, but ultimately annoyed by his rudeness.
“Dr. Reid...” Marsha muttered, standing up, back stiff, a show of wary thankfulness flashing over her face.
“Officer.” He looked at the other woman, her legs curled into her chest and perched on the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. Much better. Thank you, sir, and—”
“—good—”
“—I’m sorry for being ungrateful before. It’s hard to trust easily after... what happened.”
Reid nodded.
“We want to do what we can to help with Santino, for Clara, it’s personal,” Marsha added, her eyes growing harder by the second. “I hate men, no offense. Scum of the Earth.”
“None taken.” Reid tapped his finger on his lapel, over his gun. “I hate Trentians. We all hate something.”
Marsha mumbled in agreement.
He didn’t come here to talk to the women, which they understood when he cleared his throat and things went into an awkward territory. He pulled back his sleeve and projected the screen from his tablet from his wrist, the skin on his arm peeling back. The contents filled the space before the two women.
“You’re not pregnant.”
There was a moment of silence before a horribly stiff exhale passed between Marsha and Natalie. The screen changed to project what medical had uncovered: the inside of Natalie’s womb, the obvious health of her reproductive organs and an untouched egg from ovulation. The beginning signs of her next menstrual cycle were on the horizon.
“You’ll have your monthly within the next few days,” He tossed a small vial through the projection to land next to Natalie on the bed. “For your cramps.”
“T-thank you.” The quickening smell of tears made his nose twitch but they never formed in the woman’s eyes, and they never fell.
“You’re welcome.”
Marsha sighed, saving him from any more emotion, and his projection dropped, his sleeve back in place. “What now?”
“We kill Santino.”
“Thank fucking god. What needs to be done?”
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, he waited outside the Dallas city limits, standing in the shadows of a slum that was long-ago abandoned. Graffiti graced every wall and surface around him, and what wasn’t covered had been corroded with rust on top of rust or crumbled with deterioration where old metal met stone.
The shadows were long and thick in the ancient cities, where only miscreants and the occasional vandal lived, but they were otherwise deserted, taken over by wisps of the past. The old world only held glimpses of what it used to be. It made Reid fidget. Being amongst rotting metal, it made him feel itchy, as if he
stood amongst the corrosion long enough, it would take him with it.
He deleted the thoughts that arose in his head and sniffed the air. Even the air here barely held the hint of human inhabitation. Places like this reminded him of how few humans were left, how fewer females still. And even fewer Trentians.
The wait continued and his thoughts roamed. Clara told him how it was impossible to leave Earth because of her medical issues and the debt that arose from them, but it was impossible regardless. Women were detained every which way from going off planet; fertile ones being stranded was no secret the government held. It was harsh, trapped on a sad world.
Commercial cruises and vacations were one thing. Those were allowed to all sexes equally. Women could leave with regulation, knowing that they were forced to return. Women could also leave if it was for an Earthian regulated job—usually contracted for a span of time and impossible to back out of... but a single female, even those attached to families, whether through marriage or blood, had to jump through endless hoops to get off-world.
If a woman wanted to move to Gliese, to Kepler, or to one of the other space stations floating about and wasn’t contracted into a governmental position or corporation (one that could pay the fees), it was impossible. If a woman was caught fleeing, it was treason. If a man was caught smuggling women off-world, it was a life sentence on a mining rig or prison planet. If a woman was caught smuggling other women off Earth, well, it was treason and a life sentence.
The news was paid to scare them to stay.
Clara was stuck on Earth. Reid caressed the handle of his gun in thought.
Laws were currently being pushed through to demand all space-born children to travel back to Earth for their education. A trap. The technology to create babies from vats was used extensively, but not enough to counteract a century of war.
Even now, female children were being hidden away and raised as boys. Every day the noose tightened because the control slipped a little further away from those in charge.
