Defying Death

by Cynthia Sax

  “That’s possible?” The female retrieved the device.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank the original.” Ada-971 touched the damaged female’s face. “Do you hear that, Ada-972? Soon, you won’t feel any pain.”

  “At least, I can do that for her,” Tifara muttered.

  And he could stay by her side, supporting her as she dealt with the hopelessness of the situation. Death squeezed her hips, wishing he could do more.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tifara worked on Ada-972, cleaning her wound, trying to slow the rot. The light faded. The other female built a fire. Tifara continued to labor, her fingers shaking, and her eyes burning.

  Her patient chattered with Ada-971. The two females smiled and laughed, exchanging stories of their youth. The love between them was palpable.

  Ada-971 had given up everything for her injured sister and that sister would die. Tifara couldn’t stop it.

  “Administer the last pain inhibitor for the planet rotation,” Death instructed, his voice a low growl.

  Tifara obeyed him, which made no sense. She was the medic. She should be making the decisions. But her brain had shut down. “I have to—”

  “You have to do nothing more.” He scooped her into his arms. “We’re done for this planet rotation, females. We’ll return at sunrise.”

  “But—”

  “There will be no buts.” Her warrior carried her out of the cave. “You require rest and a nutrition bar. I require a breeding session. The female feels no pain.”

  “She’ll die.” Tifara’s shoulders slumped.

  “Yes, she’ll die.”

  Part of her wished her cyborg could lie to her but he was forced to tell the truth. The female would die. She couldn’t stop it. “I’ve failed another being.”

  “You’ve failed no one.” Death’s gait was smooth and fast. “Every being, including you and me and all of my cyborg brethren, will die. Your role isn’t to stop your patients from realizing that fate. That’s an impossible task. Your role is to give them more moments and that is what you’ve done. The clone female will spend this rest cycle with the clone sister she loves.”

  “You’re right.” She sighed. “But I’m so tired of losing beings—my patients, my parents, my brothers, Nymphia, Safyre—”

  “Safyre isn’t dead.”

  “What?” She tilted her head back to gaze at his face. It was as grim as usual. “No.” He didn’t know Safyre and he didn’t know what happened. “She went to Tau Ceti to rescue Nymphia. The Humanoid Alliance blew up the planet.”

  “Nymphia died but Safyre survived.” He bent over and deactivated the sensors around their ship. Her cyborg was a walking talking sensor. More weren’t needed.

  “She couldn’t have survived. We’re best friends. She would have contacted me.” Safyre wouldn’t have allowed her to worry, to think she was dead. “I don’t know why I’m arguing about this with you. You didn’t even know her.”

  “I was with your Safyre on Tau Ceti, my female.” Death carried her up the ramp. “She had your scarf wrapped around a pillar inside her ship. Your scent was on it. That was how I knew you were my female.”

  “You mentioned the scarf. I thought she’d given it to that Crash being and you got it from him.” Could Safyre be alive? Tifara nibbled on her bottom lip.

  “That Crash being is an E model cyborg and Safyre is his female. She didn’t give the scarf to him. I took it from her ship.”

  “What?” Tifara gazed at Death. The story he was relaying became more and more difficult to believe. “That’s not possible. Safyre would never bind herself to any male, cyborg or not.” Her friend valued her independence. “And she would have contacted me if she was alive. She’d know I’d worry and—”

  “Seven planet rotations before I captured you, Safyre was alive and stood by Crash’s side.” Death entered the rest chamber with her.

  They rarely utilized the chamber. Her cyborg had stated that he preferred to stay on the bridge, where he could better monitor the main viewscreen. Now that they had landed, there was nothing except a rocky wall to look at.

  “If I say she was alive, she was alive.” Death’s tone didn’t allow for argument. “I’m a cyborg. I can’t lie.”

  “I know you can’t.” He was telling the truth. Safyre had survived the Tau Cetian mission. Tifara’s elation was mixed with pain. “I thought she was my friend.”

  “She is your friend.” Death set her on the sleeping support.

  “A friend would have sent me a transmission to inform me she was alive.”

  “That transmission would have put all of the cyborgs in danger.” He pushed her jacket off her shoulders. “The Humanoid Alliance would have intercepted it and discovered cyborgs have free will. They would have ordered their decommissioning. Millions of cyborgs would have died. I know you wouldn’t have desired that. Doesn’t your friend know you as well as I do?”

  Tifara studied his handsome face. “No being knows me as well as you do.” She removed the medical tape from his cheek, revealing the model number inked across her cyborg’s cheek. “But Safyre knows I wouldn’t wish any being to be killed.” She cupped his jaw. “We’ve seen enough death, you and I.” She brushed her fingers over his skin. “You deliver it. I try to delay it.”

  “Then let me show you something else.” He unfastened her boots and slipped them off her feet. “Something beautiful. Something worth any sacrifice.”

  And he had sacrificed for her, she realized. He’d turned his back on his cyborg brethren, leaving his world behind.

  “Show me, cyborg.” She would think about Safyre and the miracle of her friend being alive later.

  Tifara lay back, allowing Death to undress her. He drew her flight suit over her curves. His eyes darkened with passion.

  “First, I have to examine my female.” Death grasped her ankles, encircling them easily with his big fingers, and he spread her legs wide, exposing her naked pussy, her empty entrance. “I must ensure she isn’t damaged.”

  “You’re not a medic.” She reached her hands out to the side, this playful version of her normally grim as fuck cyborg enchanting her. “Are you qualified to examine me?”

  “I’m a J model cyborg.” He lifted his head proudly. “And I’ve observed the best medic I’ve ever met for several planet rotations. I’m qualified.”

  “Are you recording this?” That possibility tightened her nipples.

  “Yes.” He nodded, the lights illuminating his dark hair. “We’ll study the footage later, look for abnormalities.”

  They’d watch themselves fucking. Tifara’s pussy dripped.

  “I’m visually scanning the patient.” Her cyborg perused her slowly, his all-seeing gaze pausing on her face, her breasts, her hips, her pink folds. “The patient’s nipples are taut.” His voice was robotic, lacking all emotion, and that excited her even more. “Her pussy is plumped with an increased flow of blood. The color has deepened. Her breathing has quickened and her body temperature, especially around her genitalia, has increased.”

  He acted as though many medics were observing her, gazing upon her naked body. Tifara fought the urge to move, to wiggle her bare ass against the sleeping support.

  “Checking breasts for fullness.” Death leaned over her and cupped her curves with his big hands, shaping, molding and massaging them.

  She arched, pushing them into his palms, pleasure radiating from the contact. His eyes blazed with emotion. His face remained as serious and stoic as always.

  “The patient’s breasts are heavy and full.” He pinched her nipples and pulled, elongating them, and she whimpered, the slight pain exciting her. “Her nipples have good color.”

  He released them and she sighed, wanting more.

  “Testing them for taste.” Her cyborg drew her right nipple into his hot, wet mouth and sucked, the pressure exquisite. He sucked and relented, sucked and relented, setting off a pulsing throughout her body. Her fingers curled, digging into the sleeping support.
“The right nipple tastes fertile.”

  He dragged his lips over her curves and applied his mouth to the left. She rocked into his mouth, unable to remain still.

  “The left nipple tastes as fertile.” He straightened. “The patient is responsive to oral stimulation of her breasts.”

  “Death—”

  “Medic,” he corrected. “You will remain silent and still during your examination.” He surveyed the assortment of medical supplies she’d left on the nearby horizontal support. “Any movement could affect the results.”

  He snapped a large pair of hand coverings over his fingers, the sound echoing in the small chamber. His eyes gleamed as he positioned himself between her spread legs.

  She didn’t know what he had planned and she was helpless to stop him. He was her medic. Her body was his to poke and prod.

  Fuck. She gazed at him. That turned her on.

  Death ran his right index finger over her pussy from clit to ass and she trembled. His skin was covered with cool material. It felt foreign, naughty, against her flesh.

  “The patient’s body is thoroughly lubricated.” He stroked her, only his eyes and the bulge in his body armor reflecting his excitement. “The flesh is slick.”

  She was more than slick. Her juices ran down her thighs.

  He breathed deeply, his nostrils flaring. “Her scent is strong.”

  Tifara tilted her hips, needing more.

  “The patient is ready for penetration,” he droned. “I’ll proceed to enter her pussy with one finger.” He slid his index finger into her.

  Her pussy lips clung to him. He pushed deeper and deeper, past his knuckle, until his entire finger was inside her.

  “The patient is supple yet tight.” Death pressed his fingertip against her inner walls. “She clearly has not been bred with sufficiently, this planet rotation. I recommend that she receive more breeding sessions in the future.”

  Tifara’s lips twisted. The male was insatiable. He had fucked her three times already and still wanted more.

  He pumped her with his finger, coaxing more wetness from her core, more desire from her already beleaguered soul. She moved into his hand. His thumb brushed against her clit with every advance.

  Her world narrowed to his hand, her pussy. All her focus was on him. All his focus was on her. Death didn’t ask for her to suck his cock, that frequent request forgotten in the moment. He sought only to please her.

  “The patient requires additional stimulation.” His machinelike voice filled the chamber. “Two fingers will be added, for a total of three.”

  Oh fuck. She braced herself.

  Her cyborg probed her with three thick covering-clad fingers, stretching her open. She hugged him, embracing him intimately. He plunged into her and withdrew, plunged into her and withdrew.

  The friction heated her. The fullness escalated her need.

  Her panting joined the sucking sound of hard fingers in wet pussy. A band of wanting strapped around her chest. She fought to remain as still as possible, her legs spread, her arms stretched to her side.

  She was assailed by sensation. Death’s thumb teased her clit. His smallest finger pushed against her asshole. He filled her pussy again and again.

  She yearned to wrap her legs around his waist and pull him toward him, to physically ask for what she wanted—his cock inside her. But he was the medic. He was in control.

  Her pussy juices streamed over his hand, glistening on his tanned skin. He was half machine. He could finger fuck her for half a planet rotation and not tire.

  She wouldn’t last that long. Tifara gritted her teeth. Her body shook, pushed to the edge of fulfillment, dangling, needing one push, one—

  He drove his fingers into her and tapped her clit. She screamed, bucking upward, clenching him with her inner muscles, coming hard. The room brightened and dimmed, brightened and dimmed. A rush of sound and ecstasy swept over her.

  She writhed and twisted. He placed his free hand on her stomach, not allowing her to roll off the sleeping support, to escape him. His fingers curled within her and a hurting sound rose from her throat, the bliss too much.

  It was several moments before she quieted, her body limp, her mind numb.

  “The patient has experienced her first release of the session.”

  Her first release? She gazed up at her cursed male, the thought of another orgasm filling her with both anticipation and dread.

  “I observed muscular contractions in her pelvic region, increased vocalization and movement. Her body temperature is elevated.” Death removed his fingers from her pussy and gazed at them, her wetness humiliatingly apparent. “Her pussy is excessively damp.”

  He wrapped his lips around his fingers and sucked. Her face heated. He was sampling her pussy juices and judging by the euphoria reflecting in his eyes, he liked what he tasted.

  “The patient is fertile and ready for breeding,” he concluded.

  She was ready for breeding. A moment ago, she had been exhausted from coming hard. Now, she wanted him, needed him.

  It was the virus he’d infected her with, a virus that only affected her. None of the other females had reacted to him, had craved his touch as she did.

  She was genetically unique, the sole survivor of the outbreak on her home planet.

  The sole victim of her cyborg’s chemical weapon.

  If this was how she was to die, fucked to death by a hunky, horny warrior, she had no objections. She’d volunteer for such an end.

  Death discarded his body armor, the pieces plunking against the tiled floor. He was a male without parallel, his golden skin unblemished, not a scar or bruise marring the surface, his muscles firm and defined, his cock long and hard, a bead of pre-cum already formed on the tip.

  “I will reposition the patient for smoother entry.” He pulled on her hips, placing her ass at the edge of the sleeping support, her legs dangling, her feet not reaching the floor. “The patient is ready for mounting.”

  He lifted one eyebrow in question. Her cyborg was silently asking for her permission, something a medic wouldn’t do but a caring male would.

  Tifara nodded, the play titillating her.

  “I am mounting the patient.” Death pushed his thick cock inside her. She’d taken him multiple times a planet rotation for many planet rotations yet she suspected she’d never become accustomed to how he filled her. He glided his shaft slowly into her, his broad tip pressing against her inner walls.

  She clutched the surface of the sleeping support as he pushed deeper and deeper, seating himself completely in her pussy. His eyes blazed with triumph, with need, with something she dared not name. The connection between them tightened.

  “The patient has taken my cock completely.” The muscles over his lower abdomen rippled. His grip on her hips was tight. “I will test her with a few tentative thrusts.”

  He pulled out halfway and drove back into her, repeated this four, five, six times. She lifted her hips, silently asking for more. Her toes curled. Her legs twitched. She wanted to touch more than his cock.

  Death leaned farther and farther over her, his tempo increasing, his body heat and metallic scent surrounding her. “The patient—the patient.”

  She smiled. He was a cyborg, had processors as well as a brain, yet he couldn’t maintain the illusion. He couldn’t pretend she was some random being, one patient of many.

  “I’m your female.” She gave him permission to stop the act. “And you are my male.” Their connection might be based in genetics but it had developed into more than that. It was real, strong. “Breed with me.”

  “Yes.” Death rutted into her harder. “My female. My everything.”

  Tifara wrapped her legs around him, grasped his forearms, and fucked him as vigorously as he fucked her, losing herself in her cyborg, in his strength, his desire.

  He dipped his head, flattened her breasts with his chest, covered her lips with his. As he plunged his cock into her pussy, he pushed his tongue into her mouth. His
nanocybotics bubbled and popped. The taste of her mingled with the taste of him.

  Their bodies collided and parted. Sweat trickled between her ass cheeks, her back sticking to the sleeping support. She marked his bulging biceps with her fingernails, these temporary brands of ownership disappearing within a heartbeat.

  His branding of her would be more lasting. Although her ability to heal now rivaled his, he’d leave his imprint on her heart, change her very being with his nanocybotics, influence how she saw the universe and the medical field for the rest of her lifespan.

  Her pussy hummed. His balls smacked against her skin. Their tongues twined sensuously. Tifara slid her hands up Death’s arms, gripping his shoulders, savoring the power in them.

  She’d come already, mere moments ago. He hadn’t. She shouldn’t be the first to break yet she knew she would be. Her legs already trembled. Her heart beat fast. She tingled all over and was too exhausted to fight her arousal.

  “Death.” She didn’t want to disappoint him. She didn’t. “I can’t.”

  “Come once more, around me.” He thrust hard, shaking her lush form. “Come now, my Tifara.” He swiveled his hips.

  She splintered, parts of her flying in all different directions. She must have clenched his cock because he howled, pushing deeper. Nanocybotic-infused cum hit her sensitive flesh and she body-slammed him, trying to dislodge him, but not truly wanting to be successful.

  Death rutted into her once, twice, three times, pumping more of his unique essence into her pussy. The pleasure was too much, too intense. Tifara bit down on his left pec and raked her fingernails over his back.

  He lowered his heavy physique, pressing her into the sleeping support, stopping her frantic movements. She nuzzled against his chest, relishing the warmth, the caring, the brief escape from her concerns. Her warrior had her.

  When the sun rose, she’d worry about wounded clone females, the lack of nutrition bars, and a virus she was no longer desperate to cure.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Three planet rotations later, the clone female continued to cling to life. Death had retrieved the nutrition bars from the dead male clones’ camp. The clone females had devoured some of them. They had thanked him so profusely for the supplies; he found it impossible to object to their consumption.