by Cynthia Sax
Her desire spiraled skyward. She panted. Sweat slicked her body, transferring to his, making his gray skin glisten like polished metal.
They fucked hard, reaching for fulfillment, for connection. She was in sync with him, moving as he moved, aligned, like a solar eclipse, Crash was the moon to her sun, the darkness to her light.
The experience stole her breath and caused her to ache with need. He grunted, that sound of pleasure warming her chest. She satisfied her cyborg.
“Crash.” Her pussy constricted around his shaft.
“Too good,” he muttered, driving into her. “You feel too good.” He swiveled his hips, grinding against her clit.
Stars exploded in her brain. She shrieked, clenching him.
Crash bellowed her name and thrust hard. Nanocybotic-infused cum shot from his tip, splattering against her inner walls, setting off a tremor of ecstasy unlike any she’d ever known. It shattered her mind.
She bucked and screamed and tried to both free herself and take him deeper at the same time. Crash folded his body around hers, buffering her with his muscle, ensuring she didn’t hurt herself.
Her pussy convulsed, milking him, each drop adding to her bliss. They shook, rocked by the experience. Sweat streamed over her form.
She was numb, all over, her arms and legs limp, lifeless. Crash held her to him, his fingers tangled in her hair.
The connection between them intensified. He was a part of her. “That wasn’t normal fucking.” She knew that.
“That was breeding.”
He was right. It was different and deserved a different word. She burrowed into his body, wishing she could stay with him.
“I’m still going to escape,” she said, needing to hear those words.
“You’ll try and I’ll stop you.”
Chapter Six
This gorgeous creature was his.
Crash dressed, unable to drag his gaze away from his female. She remained seated on the console, her body naked, except for the boots on her tiny feet and the cloth on her arm. Her face was flushed and soft with sexual satisfaction.
She appeared content now but he wasn’t lulled into a false sense of serenity. He knew his little human was determined to escape him.
None of the other cyborgs fortunate to find their females had that problem.
But none of those females were as stubborn as his Safyre. They didn’t have her orange hair or her intriguing brown freckles or her reckless nature.
He had a superior female and he would have to work harder to win her.
He would be successful. She wasn’t concerned about his eyes, preferring him to all of the cyborgs on the freighter, cyborgs with human-appearing eyes. He’d confessed to his dislike of killing and she hadn’t rejected him, deeming to breed with him.
“You shredded my flight suit.” She swung her feet, her legs not long enough to reach the floor. “I can’t walk around naked.”
“Cyborgs walk around naked.” He didn’t understand why humans were uncomfortable with bare skin. “You have a form to be proud of.” She was lush and round, with big breasts and wide hips, perfect for a cyborg male like himself. “Why wouldn’t you desire to exhibit it?”
“Because I’m not a cyborg.” Her face turned as brightly colored as her hair. “I’m not giving your cyborg friends a show. I—”
The doors to the bridge opened and she shrieked, “Get the fuck out.”
Gap turned around and strode out the door.
“He had a flight suit for you.” Crash marched after him. “You’re an irrational female.”
“You’re an ass,” she yelled after him. “If he saw anything, you won’t…for a solar cycle.”
She planned to stay with him for a solar cycle. Crash smiled as he exited the bridge.
Gap leaned against the hallway wall, a gray flight suit in one hand, Safyre’s personal viewscreen in the other. “I had to leave.” He didn’t meet Crash’s gaze. “Your female is my Nymphia’s friend and I need her help to win my female.”
“Nymphia isn’t your female.” Crash grasped the flight suit. “Have they sanitized the captain’s chambers?” He’d claim those chambers and share them with his female.
“Yes.” Gap nodded. “They’ve cleansed the ship.” He waved his hands at the hallway. The floors and walls shone, not a trace of blood remaining. “The bodies have been jettisoned. Containers of Erinomean Green Fire were found in one of the sealed holding chambers. They were jettisoned also.”
Erinomean Green Fire was highly unstable, more likely to blow up the user than the target, and prone to exploding in transit. Crash doubted the freighter’s captain had known what he was transporting. “We’re fortunate to be in one piece.”
“Humans are illogical.” His friend shrugged. “Have we rerouted to the Homeland?”
“We won’t reroute until we reach the Tau Cetian sector.” Safyre was right about that decision.
“Or we could land on Tau Ceti.” Gap glanced down at the personal viewscreen. “There’s a manufacturing facility on the planet. We could free thousands of newly manufactured cyborgs.”
“We could but we won’t.” Freeing cyborgs from a Humanoid Alliance-monitored planet was madness. They’d all end up dead. “Nymphia isn’t your female, Gap.”
“She is,” Gap insisted. “After watching the footage, I believe this even more.”
There was no talking with him and Crash had other concerns. “Do not tell my female you saw her naked. Say nothing on that topic.” They couldn’t lie. Cyborgs didn’t have that ability. But they could refrain from commenting.
Gap rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen a naked female.”
The young cyborg had seen exactly that—one naked female, that female belonging to their friend Rage. Crash snorted and reentered the bridge.
His female wasn’t visible. “My Safyre.”
“Oh, it’s you.” She popped up behind a chair. There was blood on her forehead.
“What did you do to yourself now?” He rushed toward her.
“What the fuck do you think I did to myself? My hands are bound.” She lifted her shoulders. “I fell when I jumped off the console.”
His female would shorten his lifespan with her reckless actions. Crash cupped her chin, examining the cut. It was already healing, the edges pulling together. He surveyed her body for more damage. Her knees were scraped. One shoulder was pink.
“I’m releasing your wrists.” He unfastened her bindings. “You can dress.” He handed her the flight suit. “Do you need assistance?”
He’d like to complete that task for her, to care for her.
“I can dress myself.” She glanced at the door and then at one of his guns. The weapon was carried on his hip, holsters and sheaths built into his body armor.
“You’ll be too slow,” he warned.
She tried anyway. He caught her wrist.
“I was fast enough last time,” she grumbled.
“I didn’t think you’d shoot me the last time.” Crash grinned, her daring amusing him. “Now, I know you will and I’ll stop you.” He released her. “Don’t try again.”
She, of course, did. He stopped her once more.
“Damn cyborg speed.” Her eyes flashed. She pulled her wrist away from him.
He let her withdraw, watched her as she dressed. “My guns are calibrated for my use only.” Nothing would happen if she tapped the trigger. “And your ship is being repaired. It’s surrounded by my brethren. How did you plan to escape?”
The pigment in her face increased. “Why would I tell you?”
“You don’t have a plan.” He took her hands and bound them in front of her. That was more risky. She could pull one of his daggers. But it would be more comfortable for her.
He wanted her to be comfortable. His stubborn female would be bound for a while.
“I told you I’d organize a rescue of your little friend.” Crash lifted her up and gazed directly into her eyes. “Cyborgs don’t lie.”
“If th
e being was Gap, not Nymphia, would you leave his rescue to me?”
He wouldn’t. Gap was one of his closest friends.
“I have to be involved with her rescue,” she pushed.
The doors opened. “I’ll keep you informed, Crash’s female.” Gap strode onto the bridge, Safyre’s personal viewscreen tucked under one arm. “I brought you nutrition bars.” The young cyborg lobbed them at her.
Even with her hands bound, she caught them.
Crash’s lips flattened. He’d have to keep a close eye on his little human. She was adept and Gap was vulnerable, determined to win her goodwill, wishing to impress her friend.
He set Safyre on a chair, far away from any communications panels.
Making a grand show of ignoring him, she opened a nutrition bar, bit into it, and chewed. Her expression was thoughtful.
That didn’t bode well for him.
Gap plopped his ass in the seat beside Safyre’s. “Tell me about the scarf on your arm.”
“I told you. Nymphia gave it to me.”
“It’s more than a gift. It has meaning.”
Gap played images on the main viewscreen. Laughter bubbled around them, light and airy and decadently feminine. The footage was shaky. The location appeared to be the narrow halls of a battle station. Safyre ran after a squealing Nymphia, both females curvaceous and surprisingly fast.
Their smiles caused Crash’s heart to squeeze. Cyborgs were taught never to reveal their emotions to their enemies and every non-cyborg was their enemy. These humans knew no such caution, their joy streaming behind them.
“Catch her before she gets to the nutrition station, Safyre,” the female recording the chase called.
“Don’t help her, Tifara.” Nymphia huffed.
“I don’t need the help.” Safyre pounced on her friend. “Because I’ve got you.”
“No,” Nymphia’s cry was edged with humor.
They toppled onto the metal tiled floor, mock fighting. Instead of exchanging punches, they tickled each other. The recording became more shaky as Tifara’s laughter joined theirs.
“See how they express their feelings, Crash?” Wonder filled Gap’s voice. “Like they’ve never feared a reprimand.”
“We’re laughing.” Safyre smiled at the screen. “No being is reprimanded for that.”
“Cyborgs are,” Crash explained. “If we show any emotion, the humans view us as being defective and they decommission us.”
She turned her head and stared at him. “You’re killed if you laugh?”
He nodded.
“That’s fucked-up.” Her eyes flashed and her fingers curled into tight fists. If she hadn’t been bound, he suspected she would have hit some being.
That anger was felt on his behalf. Crash’s chest warmed.
“We’re free now,” he sought to calm her. “We can laugh and no being will reprimand us.”
“They certainly won’t.” She glared at the main viewscreen.
The females continue to wrestle. Some of Safyre’s rage dissipated, replaced by a softness Crash suspected was love. She cared greatly for her friends.
“Give it up,” the Safyre in the footage demanded.
“Never.” Nymphia was as stubborn as Crash’s female.
They struggled some more, their curves jiggling, until Nymphia surrendered, lying on her back while Safyre straddled her.
“I don’t want you to go,” the young female confessed.
“I know.” Safyre’s smile faded. “But lives depend on this delivery.”
“That’s how I feel about Tau Ceti. The children are caught in the midst of a war. They’ll die without me.”
“If you go there, you’ll be caught in the midst of that war too.” Safyre jumped to her feet. “And you’ll die. Don’t get involved, Nymphia. It’s too dangerous.”
“And your mission isn’t?” Nymphia mumbled, standing also.
“Give me the scarf so I can leave.” His female’s voice was gruff.
Nymphia removed a strip of red cloth from her wrist. Safyre held out her arm. Her friend wrapped it loosely around her forearm.
The scarf remained on her forearm, many planet rotations later.
“I expect this back.” Nymphia’s tone was stern. “Preferably not with blood on it like the last time.”
“That was someone else’s blood.” Safyre grinned. “But I’ll keep it safe.”
“If you don’t, you’ll owe me a new one.”
They hugged.
“Awww… I want a hug too.” Tifara reached out one of her hands.
“Then shut that off.” Safyre grasped her friend’s wriggling fingers. “And come here. Get your hug.” She pulled her friend forward and the viewscreen reverted to its default display of open space.
Crash gazed at his female. She was looking up at the ceiling and sniffling. He breathed deeply. There was no scent of blood.
His Safyre sniffled because she was a being of strong emotions and she loved her friend. “We’ll rescue her, my female,” he assured her.
“I’ll rescue her.” Gap, in contrast, was a cyborg, able to conceal any emotions he might be feeling. He appeared unaffected by the footage. “What is the significance of the scarf? It’s a strip of plain cloth, without any monetary value. It can be easily replaced.”
“The cloth is a symbol.” Safyre’s voice was watery. “In some cultures, a cloth is given to a warrior before he or she leaves for battle. The warrior’s promise to the loved one is that he or she will return home and give it back.”
Gap’s forehead furrowed. “You give a cloth, only to request it back?”
“It brings the warrior good luck.”
“Cyborgs don’t need luck,” the young warrior announced. “We’re the best warriors in the universe.”
Even the best warriors in the universe required luck. Crash knew that from experience, having seen skilled friends die on the battlefield. “Any cyborg would appreciate a gift from the female he loved.” He gazed at Safyre. “He’d look at the cloth and know she thought of him.”
Safyre rubbed her arm against the armrest. “That’s what I do. I look at it and think of Nymphia.”
She was unable to look at it now. Her arms were bound. Crash kneeled in front of his female and rolled up her sleeve, revealing the red cloth.
Her gaze met his. “Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you.” Gap poked his head between them. He inhaled, his nostrils flaring. “Frag. My female smells good.”
“I don’t know how you’re smelling anything.” Safyre’s face turned pink. “I’ve worn it for many planet rotations. It has been cleansed, Nymphia’s scent should be fading, mine growing stronger.”
“I smell you and my female,’ Gap insisted.
His friend was obsessed with Nymphia. “We can separate scents,” Crash explained. “Go away, Gap. You’re making my female uncomfortable.”
He was making Crash uncomfortable. His friend’s eyes had darkened with arousal.
“Tell me why she engages in this custom and why she chose this cloth. Is red her favorite color? Does she give any males cloths?” The questions poured out of the kid.
Crash turned back to the main viewscreen, monitoring their surroundings as his friend interrogated his female. He listened, learning about his Safyre. She was loyal and loving and true. Her relationship with Nymphia was closer than mere friendship.
She wouldn’t willingly transfer responsibility for Nymphia’s rescue to another being.
Gap talked and talked and talked. Safyre’s answers grew shorter, her voice becoming drowsy.
After a long stretch of silence, Crash peered behind him. She was curled up in her seat, her eyes closed, her breathing steady. Gap was leaned over her outstretched arm, the tip of his nose touching the red cloth. Footage of Nymphia played on the private viewscreen.
His friend looked happier than Crash had ever seen him.
Gap was no longer a child, Safyre had told him. He knew the risks he was taking.
Crash would ensure he didn’t do anything foolish. He’d be there if Nymphia rejected him, if she wasn’t the young cyborg’s female. Gap would be hurt but he’d recover.
I’m taking my female to the captain’s chambers. Crash gently scooped her off the seat, careful not to wake her. You have the bridge.
Gap frowned. If a ship approaches--
Contact me. Crash walked with Safyre into the hallway.
The space was empty. Many of the cyborgs were restoring their energy and nutrition levels after the takeover of the freighter. Some of his brethren were working on his female’s ship.
Death met him in front of the doors to the chambers. We found the seventh tracking device.
His female had told the truth. We’ll discard all of them when we change direction. The Humanoid Alliance would assume the freighter had been destroyed at that location, the tracking devices attached to the debris.
Death dipped his head. Access to the captain’s chambers has been limited to you. Should I extend it to your female also?
Not yet. She wouldn’t be able to leave the space without him.
That’s a logical decision. Death’s gaze lowered to Safyre’s bound hands. E models have difficulties handling their females.
J models have no females, Crash retorted, weary of the gibes.
That’s the truth, Death admitted. You’re a lucky cyborg, Crash. She’s strong in spirit and soft in form. We all wish to have your difficulties.
Some planet rotation you will. The planet rotation might not be soon. It had taken Crash many human lifespans to find his female. You’re now free cyborgs. You can search for your females and claim your own happiness.
We are free. Death transmitted as though he didn’t believe the concept.
Crash understood his hesitation. It had taken him several planet rotations before he stopped looking over his shoulder, expecting to see the Humanoid Alliance warriors behind him.
Death would find his own peace. Crash placed one of his palms on the access panel and carried Safyre into the chambers.
The space was plain, consisting mostly of a large sleeping support, a large view screen on the fall wall, some empty horizontal supports and storage compartments. The entrance to a cleansing station was situated at the far side of the chambers. One of the cyborgs had set up a docking station with nutrition and energy tubes for Crash’s use.
