Defying Death

by Cynthia Sax

  He opened his mouth, paused, then pressed his lips together. His forehead furrowed with thought lines.

  “You don’t know.” She shook her head. “You’re infecting innocent beings and you have no idea what the consequences are.”

  “You’re the only being I’ve infected.” His eyes blazed with anger. “And it isn’t a virus.”

  “It is,” she insisted.

  He gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “It isn’t.”

  “It has to be.” Tifara gazed at him. “Stopping an outbreak is my destiny. When I had ten solar cycles, an outbreak spread throughout my home planet. There was no cure so the Humanoid Alliance quarantined the area, not allowing anyone in or out. One by one, my mother, my brothers, my aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, friends, became ill. I tried to care for them but they grew sicker and sicker. They were in horrible pain.”

  He scooped her into his arms and relocated to his chair, setting her on his lap.

  She rested her cheek on his bare chest, drawing strength from his heartbeat. He was there. She wasn’t alone, not like she’d been then. “They’d scream with agony, blood dripping from their ears and eyes. I thought that was horrifying. But then they started to die and the silence was even scarier.”

  The urban center had been quiet, still. Transports were abandoned in pathways. There was no response on the communication devices.

  “I couldn’t bury the bodies. There was very little open ground.” And she hadn’t the strength to break it. “At first, I moved the dead to one, then two, then three domiciles. Soon, there were too many bodies to relocate.” That had felt like another failure.

  Death rubbed her back, his palms large and warm and comforting.

  “Their bodies bloated, split open, rotted. The smell.” She trembled. “I’ll never forget it. There was no one to talk to.”

  “You talked to yourself.”

  “I had to. The quiet was driving me mad. I was alone, the sole survivor.” Being in an urban center, she’d raided domiciles for nutrition bars and containers of liquid, but every space held bodies, their faces twisted in pain, the smell clinging to her skin, her garments. “The Humanoid Alliance had to be certain the virus had run its course. They waited until the bodies were bones, picked clean by invertebrates. An investigation team found me.”

  They’d studied her, discovered she had a genetic anomaly. She’d been the key to the cure they’d been searching for. They said it had been fate, destiny that she survived.

  “My family didn’t die for nothing.” Tifara lifted her chin. “I was meant to live through that outbreak and I’m destined to stop the next one. If this isn’t a virus, this can’t happen.” She swirled her hands in a circle between them. “I shouldn’t be here and I shouldn’t be with you. You should return me to the battle station and—”

  “I’m not returning you.” Death’s arms tightened around her waist. “You’re mine.”

  She waited for him to say more.

  He didn’t. Her cyborg wasn’t a chatty being.

  Tifara didn’t mind his silence. She’d grown accustomed to talking to herself and felt guilty whenever she talked over other beings.

  With Death, she didn’t have that problem.

  “Yes, I’m yours. I’m your partner,” she assured him. “We’ll work together to find the cure. Don’t you worry.” She patted his arms.

  He grunted.

  That sounded like he wasn’t worried but he should be. He was contagious.

  “We should compile the data we have.” She leaned back into his body, her eyelids growing heavy. “We don’t have time to waste.”

  He was warm and smelled good and she hadn’t slept much during the past few planet rotations. She closed her eyes, only for a moment. Telling him about her family had been emotionally draining.

  And the deaths, those were always tough on her heart. “We.” Tifara yawned. “Yes, we.” She struggled to find the next word. “Should.”

  She drifted into the blackness of a deep dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Five

  His female was asleep. Although she mumbled random words, talking even during her rest cycle, her cognitive processes were offline and her face was soft. She was unaware, vulnerable, trusting him to protect her.

  His chest expanded with pride. He would. He wouldn’t allow any being to touch her. She fought their connection, spoke of returning to the battle station and curing her link with him, yet eventually she’d accept it, accept him. She was his.

  He’d never let her go.

  Not after experiencing the bliss of breeding with her mouth.

  Death’s gaze dropped to her lips. Her pink flesh glistened with his cum. Being inside her hot, wet mouth was a joy unparalleled by any experience he’d previously known. It was better than fighting, better than slicing a sharp blade through a skilled enemy’s sword arm, better than blowing a hole into an approaching warrior’s chest.

  He would experience that again.

  Multiple times.

  Cyborg warriors would hunt them down and execute him, but they’d never completely separate him from her. His nanocybotics bubbled within Tifara. He’d always be a part of his female.

  Crash would safeguard her after he was dead. The E model might be an inferior warrior but he had an overdeveloped sense of honor and would never allow a precious female to be harmed. Safyre would also insist upon it.

  Death plotted their route, reviewed the ship’s damage, scanned for other vessels. The silence on his transmission lines was disturbing. Normally, thousands of voices communicated at once, streams of continuous conversation, relaying often lifespan-extending information.

  He wasn’t the chattiest of warriors. He listened more than he talked. However, he missed that link. It had been a part of him since the planet rotation he had been manufactured.

  He’d grow accustomed to its absence. His gaze returned to Tifara. He had a connection to another being now, a more important connection.

  And she filled some of the quiet with her constant talking.

  She’d honored him with the discussion of her past. He’d seen how telling him of her family’s deaths had damaged her emotionally. He wanted to kill the beings who had left her alone, the Humanoid Alliance medics who had observed the outbreak from afar and didn’t assist her.

  She’d been a precious offspring and a female. Both would have warranted her any cyborg’s protection.

  Death swept his lips over her forehead, tasting the salt of her skin. Humans were ungrateful and illogical. He would never take her presence in his lifespan for granted.

  She shifted in her seat, murmured words he couldn’t decipher, her tone unhappy. His scent was on her breath.

  He had a female. A female. Death struggled to absorb that astounding fact. If he managed to avoid the warriors tracking them long enough, he’d produce offspring with this female.

  If he were truly fortunate, he’d live to see those offspring born. He’d create links with them also and he wouldn’t notice the silence.

  Death reviewed the inventory on board the ship. It had been stocked for cyborg passengers, not humans. Thankfully, there were sufficient nutrition bars to replenish his female’s energy levels until they reached Carinae E, the remote planet he’d chosen. They would restock there.

  It would be risky. Some being might relay their location to the Humanoid Alliance or the human rebels. That being could communicate the information on transmission lines his cyborg brethren accessed.

  But he had little choice. He had to feed his little human.

  She would remain on the ship, the doors sealed, the perimeter monitored with sensors. He’d take what he needed from a supply depot, rushing in and out of that structure, moving faster than a humanoid’s vision system could detect.

  Then they’d depart. No beings would know they’d ever landed on the planet.

  His Tifara moved once more, her whimper of distress snagging his attention.

  Her white jacket and flight
suit were twisted around her lush form. She struggled in her sleep to free herself.

  Humans and their garments. Cyborgs, when not in battle, were naked, as their design intended.

  Death carefully peeled the layers of fabric away, revealing Tifara’s pale skin and endless curves. She was soft and round all over, lush yet vulnerable, having no hard frame to protect her form.

  That terrified him. His female was delicate, human, easily broken. Her legs parted, revealing the brown curls covering her mons, her pink pussy lips. She was wet, her flesh glistening. He breathed deeply. She smelled wonderful, her musk hanging heavy in the air.

  Delivering more of his nanocybotics to his female would strengthen her ability to heal should she become damaged. He unfastened her boots, removing them from her tiny feet. It would be easy to breed with her now. Her form was open to him, her pussy slick with her readiness.

  But that might damage his female emotionally. He couldn’t risk that.

  He could clean her, however. The trials of the planet rotation had been left upon her skin. Death grasped a cleaning cloth, snapped it to refresh it, and slid it over her curves.

  He explored the indent at her elbows, the fullness of her belly, the scar on her right knee. The cleaning cloth was refreshed multiple times, the dirt and grime converted to air molecules.

  He turned her, applying his attention to her shoulders, her back, the valley between her plump ass cheeks. His female didn’t wake. She murmured, her tone pleased, and she pushed against his palms, encouraging his touch.

  It took all of his control not to breed with her.

  Death set her on his lap, placed the cleaning cloth on the console, and tidied her garments. He refreshed her flight suit and jacket, folded them into a perfect square and stored them.

  As he leaned forward, she slipped down his thighs. He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

  “Mmm…yes.” Tifara pushed her curves against him. Her breasts brushed his hands. They were the softest substance he’d ever touched.

  She would tempt an android.

  It was best to reduce temptation. Death placed her gently on her chair, putting distance between them, and he stepped back. Her absence was felt immediately, his body aching for hers.

  His female must have had the same reaction.

  She squirmed, lines appearing between her eyebrows. “No.” Her bottom lip curled. “No.” Her eyelids twitched. “No.”

  She’d wake. His Tifara was human. She needed to sleep.

  Death sighed. She also needed him.

  As he needed her.

  He donned his body armor. That added layer would strengthen his control.

  Death scooped her into his arms, carried her to his own chair, and sat, settling her on his lap. She snuggled into his form, her eyes remaining closed.

  His female swept her hands blindly along his stomach, chest, shoulders. She reached his bare neck and splayed her fingers over his skin.

  Then she wiggled up his body, toward that spot.

  She sought skin-on-skin contact.

  His cock bobbed, approving of that plan. He gripped the armrests of the chair, digging his fingertips into the leather, as his Tifara climbed him, rubbing her face under his jaw, over his chin. The sexy sounds coming from her lips were enough to craze a male.

  He endured the erotic torture for countless moments, distracting himself by compiling all of the data the cyborgs had on themselves, putting that information on a private viewscreen. The device’s communications systems were deactivated. His little female wouldn’t have the ability to send or receive any type of messages.

  Her tongue flicked over his skin and he shuddered, remembering how that tongue had felt on his shaft. Tifara burrowed her fingernails under his body armor, leaving a stinging trail on his chest.

  She wedged her fingers too deeply between his armor and body, became stuck, and whimpered. “Hurts.”

  She’d damaged herself, trying to access his form.

  He had to give her what she wanted, what they both wanted.

  Death peeled her away from him, set her on the console, and quickly removed his body armor for the second time that planet rotation.

  Lines formed between Tifara’s eyebrows. Her face darkened. His female was easy to read. She didn’t like the separation.

  He didn’t like it either. Death returned her to his lap and she mumbled her approval, running her palms over his stomach, turning until she straddled him.

  She cuddled closer and closer. Her lips dragged along his collarbone, branding him with heat. Her breasts pushed against his chest. Her pussy lips pressed against his hard cock, her flesh warm and wet and welcoming.

  Then she quieted. Her breathing deepened. Her form softened even more.

  He wanted her more than oxygen, aching from need, from yearning, and she blissfully slept.

  Fraggin’ hole. Death gritted his teeth and removed his weapons to clean, one by one. The Humanoid Alliance could learn a thing or two about torture from his female.

  It would be a long rest cycle.

  * * *

  Half a shift later, Tifara started to move and Death’s torment escalated even more. She rubbed along his shaft, higher and higher, pulling herself upward, her fingers curling over his shoulders.

  Her eyes were closed but she must be conscious. She must be. Because if she could shred his control like this while sleeping, she’d decimate him while awake.

  His female reached her goal, gliding her wet flesh over his tip, positioning him at her entrance. He gripped her hips, stopping her.

  Once they passed this point, he wouldn’t have the strength to resist her. He couldn’t pull back. He’d claim her completely, filling her with his cum.

  Taking his female in her sleep was wrong.

  Wasn’t it?

  She murmured her distress, wiggled, attempting to free herself, to breed with him as he wanted to breed with her.

  He had little willpower left.

  “My Tifara.” He had to make certain she wanted this.

  “Need you, Death.” Her voice was husky with desire, her need rivaling his. He was the male she craved. His name was on her lips. “Please.”

  That plea broke him. Death grunted his consent and guided her downward. Her wet heat engulfed his shaft, her pussy stretched around him, the grip snug, tight, perfect.

  He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to come, battling the instinct to make her his quickly, before anything or any being could stop him.

  She deserved as much pleasure as he could give her. A part of him also realized that satisfaction in breeding would bind her to him emotionally.

  If he captured Tifara’s body, he’d capture her mind, her heart, her soul.

  She slid lower and lower. When the delectable squeeze reached his base, Death rounded his back and rested his face between her breasts. Her chest heaved against him. Her warmth surrounded him. Her feminine scent teased his nostrils.

  She was his. Death’s joy grew and grew until he could no longer conceal it. He smiled against his female’s skin. The uplifting of his lips felt alien yet right.

  Then he realized what he was doing, the risk he was taking, and he tensed.

  Death raised his head and looked around them. They were alone. The bridge was empty. There were no enemies to witness his elation.

  Tifara’s eyes remained closed. She wouldn’t see his smile, wouldn’t return it with one of her own, putting her precious lifespan in peril.

  This once, he’d indulge his emotions. Death cupped her ass, lifted her upward, gliding her along his shaft. Her pussy lips touched his rim. Unwilling to lose the connection with her, he drove her back downward. Her ass cheeks smacked against his thighs. She gasped, clenched his cock.

  Frag. She ravished him. He grunted and ravished her in return, drawing her upward, driving her back down, drawing her upward, driving her back down.

  “Yes, Death, yes.” Her words reassured him. She wanted him, wanted this.
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br />   He nuzzled her neck, breathing in the sunshine scent of her hair. She panted, her lips parting. His female was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen and he longed to tell her that, to give her the wooing words she deserved.

  He couldn’t. A lifespan of holding his emotions inside him didn’t allow that. The best he could do was show her. He gazed at her with all of the intensity in his heart and thrust upward into her downward drives, displaying the strength of his passion, his need.

  Her breasts jiggled. Death licked and laved them, sucking on her pink nipples as he impaled her on his cock again and again. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, that sweet pain adding to his ecstasy.

  “Death, I need.” Her pussy juices dripped between his aching balls. Her inner walls contracted around his shaft. “I need.”

  He gripped her hips and pushed downward. Her pussy collided with his base and he ground against her. The combination splintered his female’s hold on reality.

  She screamed, arching her back, and clenched his cock. He roared a reply, pushed deeper and lost control of his brain, his processors. Lights sparked in his vision system. Cum shot from his tip, a glorious release—he almost didn’t survive it.

  Tifara screamed and clenched him again, forcing more cum from his body, escalating his pleasure. She came once, twice, three more times, draining his cock and his form dry, and her clasp on him relented.

  Only slightly. His tiny human would always be snug around him. She enveloped him in an erotic embrace, her inner walls vibrating to the tempo of his circuits, her lush form quivering.

  Fraggin’ hole. Death held her to him, shuddering with bliss. Every time he thought he’d never experience anything better, she proved him wrong, showing him a new level of happiness.

  His female mumbled incoherently into his chest. Death rubbed her back, replying with action, not words, and he mouthed over her hair, her brown curls tinged with flame, soft to the touch.

  He remained inside her and Death knew this was where he was meant to be, inside his Tifara, her softness around him, their link strong, physically and emotionally. Was that what the humans meant by destiny, by fate—this feeling of rightness?