by Naomi Lucas
“You’ll see for yourself tomorrow.” She trailed off.
“I will.”
They sat there for a short time lost in their separate thoughts. Jack knew now how hard tomorrow would be for her and he would be with her through all of it and he wasn’t going to lie to himself, the fact that he couldn’t read the place troubled him. Every time he came close, it would slip away and the more he tried, the more frustrated he became.
The ship was, after all, a dead machine and even the dead could be read.
There was a point when a machine died, much like organic, biological life. When the wires, circuits, and connectors couldn’t hold nor support a current. When the pieces rusted away, eroding with time or wear until nothing was left. And because he was a Cyborg, seeing that unnatural, mechanical death, a slow, sad burn death always left him feeling uneasy.
The state of perfection a distant memory.
He never wanted to experience that burn out. Losing your body was one thing, a Cyborg could upload his consciousness to the network but to be denied that opportunity because your cybernetics died or they were no longer able to sustain you; was like ceasing to exist. Once he and his brethren entered the world they were meant to be there forever until otherwise killed or dismantled.
He watched as the sun began to set, the light striking the ground with an array of gold and bronze, reflecting off the little crystals of sand. There was no green on this planet but the royal performance of the sun and sand more than made up for the lack of color. After his rather depressing thoughts, the sunset brought him back to the present, it made the situation raw but hopeful.
Jack pulled his fingers away from the girl’s hair and instead lifted her face to look at him. Her eyes were at half-mast and haunted. He ran the back of his index finger along her cheek. “Are you hungry?” He asked.
“No. I don’t think I could eat even if I wanted to.” She answered.
“Are you cold?” He asked her next.
“Not with your arms around me.”
She was still covered up in her dingy rags; the cloak all but forgotten in his pack. He felt himself hardening.
“We’ll set up camp for the night then.” He said more as a statement and not a question. The least he could do was get her out of her head for a while, relieving his own pent up frustration to connect with her in the process.
She watched him as he reached over and pulled out her cloak and the two blankets from his pack, laying them out, overlapping them for extra padding from the stone ground. Once he was done he began setting about to start a small fire on the opposite side of the alcove; conscious of keeping their exit open and unblocked.
While he was setting up their camp for the night, he watched Allie go over to the pack and rummage through his supplies. Amused, he watched her pick things up, look at them and then either place them back in the pack or on the ground. She looked excited by a small hair comb she found in one of the pockets, putting it aside for later no doubt.
Jack would have killed nearly anyone else who deemed it was within their right to mess with his things. “What are you looking for?” He got up to crouch next to her.
“The cleaning cloth from earlier. I liked how it made me feel and I wanted to use it again before resting tonight.” She said as she dug through the bag.
Jack laughed, apparently she was looking forward to spending time with him tonight as much as he was. Her optimism was refreshing. “Here let me get it.” He reached in and retrieved the cloth and what he packed of the healing salve he had made her previously.
“Let me.” He said, using this as a reason to touch her. He took her hand and ran the cloth along her skin, watching the sweat and dirt disappear. He would have to clean himself up too.
With deliberate slowness he swiped the fabric up and down her sun kissed arms. He took the time to caress it over each finger tip, moving up to the sensitive point between her fingers and ended with slow, soothing circles over her palms. She sat as still as stone and watched his every move.
When he let go of her hands, she took the chance to swipe her now soft tips over his brow, pushing his unruly hair to the side.
“Your eyes are always intense.” She said.
“They often reflect my emotions, which are intense.”
She smiled at him as she moved her hand away. He had wiped the cloth over her collarbone several times now, at a loss on what course of action he should take next.
Chapter Nine:
---
Allie reached up and tugged the cloth out of his grip and he let it slip into her hand without resistance. She liked how he didn't seem so fierce when it was quiet and dark and just the two of them. She watched as he sat back on his heels and opened a disc of medicinal salve, similar to the one still in her pouch.
She unceremoniously wiped her face down, feeling instantly better. The magical cloth was a wonder of nature, looking down at it.
“The cloth is soaked in a mixture of nanoparticles that have attached itself with salicylic acid, it helps remove the outer layer of your skin. The particles act as a catalyst and vaporizes the dirt and any toxins. It’s something you can’t see happening.” He continued, “the cloth only has so many uses before its effectiveness wears off. It’s great as a temporary fix or for medical purposes but overuse will dry out your skin.” He finished.
“You don’t mind that I’m using it?” She had been hoping for a more magical explanation.
“Not at all. That one will last for quite some time and I have a replicator back on my ship that could create more. They’re great to have on hand when you’re doing unconventional work.” He smiled.
“Thank you.” She said as she watched him unclip his armor, running his fingers over the buckles on his shoulder plates and biceps. They dropped off softly until all that was left was the under armor padding and mesh.
He was ripped with muscle but he wasn’t large, instead tall and lean, like a man who could run for days, climb mountains, swim across large bodies of water. He resembled nothing like the Warlord; whose body reminded her of the large boulders scattered about them.
Where the Warlord was meaty with muscle– an outcry to everyone within his presence of his strength; Jack was a nuance of danger, a harsh whisper, powerful and deadly. His body built for performance and endurance. She had a hard time not staring at his chest.
He had been kind to her, provided for her, and even dealt with her emotional downpour earlier with patience. The few men she had encountered growing up at the colony were nothing like this man. Allie wanted him to touch her, to feel his hands glide all over her body and she wanted to touch him back.
She moved toward him until she was a hairsbreadth away.
The way he was positioned, his back was mostly turned away from the fire and the light ejected long shadows across his face. It distorted his features just enough that she was unable to read his reaction clearly– if he had a reaction at all.
The sunlight had now dimmed to darkness and the temperature was dropping but she barely noticed for once that their camp was warm and that she was warm after nightfall.
With the fabric in one hand she linked his fingers with hers with the other and with care she began to clean him like he had done with her. Starting with his fingertips, over the palm, circling his large wrists and over his long corded muscles.
He kept himself still and silent as she finished up with one arm and moved to the other, ending at his neck and hairline. When all of his exposed skin was clean, he reached down and pulled the under armor suit over his head, tousling his wayward dark locks in the process.
The deep shadows accentuated his body, sculpting and defining him as much as she was planning to. Taking his action as approval to continue, she began running the cloth over his chest. His skin was heated to the touch. She paid special attention to his scars, outlining them with just a whisper of a touch.
He was settled on his knees now, his head bent forward just e
nough to let his loose strands fall before his eyes. She couldn’t tell if they were open or closed.
His chest was hairless. In fact, his arms had been hairless too she just realized. It was a heavy reminder that this man wasn’t an ordinary man but a half man– a Cyborg– and comparing him to the men she had known before had been wrong. There was no basis for comparison.
Allie took her time with every dip and groove, wanting this to be a pleasurable, relaxing experience for him. A way to thank him for going out of his way for her comfort.
Jack had a tough life if his scars were any indication. She didn’t bother to keep count of them, knowing she wouldn’t be able to do so.
I wonder if he has anyone? He was on that ship of his alone.
When she was done with his chest, she quietly moved to work on his back. Upon first inspection, it was similar to the front except for the tattooed numbers over his right shoulder blade. It was his identifying information. She couldn’t understand what the numbers and symbols meant, it was in a foreign language but she inherently knew that they had something to do with him being a Cyborg.
Once she finished with the initial wipe down, she dropped the cloth onto the pile of blankets at her side, taking up her exploration with her hands. He shifted as if he were about to get up.
“No. Don’t move, yet. Please.” She said quickly.
He turned to look at her briefly before settling back down. He busied his hands by unhooking his weapons that were strapped to his legs.
She took the opportunity to stroke her hands over his skin. It felt like human skin but without the minor imperfections and it felt strong, lacking the softness of body fat. His body was molded into the tightened confines of genetic perfection. It felt velvety smooth to her touch and very human goosebumps formed below her fingers as she continued.
Allie could feel the heady need of want begin to grip her stomach, the yawning, aching emptiness grow between her legs. She pressed her thighs closed, knowing he could scent her based on their previous encounters; she was embarrassed. It was a lack of self control, an insult to how she was raised.
They would touch but she wouldn’t ask for more. Men chose their women, not the other way around– and she couldn’t help the sad stray thought that she wasn’t worth being chosen. A man, Cyborg like him had a universe of options and she was only one woman of a countless many.
But she wouldn’t ruin this moment with her thoughts.
She reached to the side where she had placed the small comb from earlier and sat up on her knees. With one hand placed on his shoulder for support she could feel him tense beneath her, she began running the comb through his dark, silky hair.
He groaned as she ran it through, knowing how good it felt. The bristles tugging and untangling small knots. Scraping his scalp just hard enough to send those electrifying sensations down his body. She felt those same sensations whenever he played with her long hair.
After several minutes of combing, he abruptly reached up and stayed her hand.
“Stop.” He said sternly.
She dislodged her hand and sat back on the blanket as he kneeled and stood up. She watched as he turned to face her, her will to breathe rapidly fading. He looked like a demonic god, the shadows and fire haloing his form.
“Take off your top.” His eyes were violent now. She hesitated, noticing the large erection tenting his pants. She was exhilarated and afraid. “I won't ask you again.” His voice laced with authority.
She slipped the knot that kept her top in place and pulled it off her body. Her breasts exposed again for him in the fire light.
He reached down, grabbed the strip and tossed it in the fire.
She shot up, upset. “No!” She rushed to the flames but it was already too late. The cloth had disintegrated into ash.
“How could you?” She cried, “what am I supposed to wear now?” Allie turned to him, hurt, her mood ruined. How dare he. She was being nice and he had snubbed it.
“Not that piece of crap. I’ll fashion you new clothes before we leave the camp tomorrow.” He was being an asshole but he didn’t seem to care. Allie bristled, her clothes offered little protection but that wasn’t by choice. They were all she had after so long as everything else was destroyed by age and overuse.
She moved back to the blankets, skirting around his form, her arms crossed over her chest and picked up her cloak to cover herself, feeling sharp betrayal.
She flinched when he went over to her.
“You will have new, better coverings before we leave this cave, I promise. The rags you wear are old and provide little benefit to you.” She didn’t say anything but instead moved away from him.
***
He didn’t like her moving away from him but knew that she would forgive him soon enough. His body was alive with potent lust and he could still feel her fingers glide across his scarred chest. Jack had to stop her before he stopped himself and shut down his humanity.
I just need to let go, see where this takes me. It goes on and on and I want front row seats to the ride.
He picked up the comb and his armor plates off the ground and placed them back into the pack, pulling out food and water in its place.
He handed over the nourishment in apology and held it in front of her for a few moments before she begrudgingly took it from him. He sat back and watched her eat, picking up one of his daggers. He twirled it against the stone floor, stabilizing his emotions. After a moment she looked at him.
“Are you going to eat?” She asked.
“No, I don’t need food like you do.” He answered.
She looked at him a moment longer and took a sip of water.
“Why do you do that? With the dagger that is, you play with it often.” She watched as he ran his thumb along the sharp edge, tightening the cloak around her.
“Habit. It’s safe to have a weapon in hand.” He continued, “I like the feel of it.” He finished as he slid the edge over the pad of his thumb, drawing blood. “It reminds me that I’m human too.”
They both stared as the blood welled up and dripped down.
“You’ve been hurt a lot.” She moved back to his side and held his hand between hers, oystering it, the pearl of his blood at the center.
“Quite a bit. The pain is a comfort now more than anything else.”
“I think,” she hesitated, “I understand. I’ve been alone for so long that feeling anything is better than feeling nothing at all. When you’re alone for so long, it’s the only thing to keep you company.”
Jack wanted her more than anything at that moment. He didn’t care anymore. They understood each other. He pulled her onto his lap, leaving a smear of blood along her skin. He lifted his thumb up to swipe it across her lips.
She dabbed at it with her tongue, scrunching her face.
He laughed at her reaction. “What? Don’t like the taste of my blood?”
“No, not really.” She swatted his hand away as he tried to smear more on her.
“But it makes your lips suicide red. My favorite color.” He moved his hands up her thighs, reaching around to cup her butt and push her forward into him.
She looked at him then with the blood around her lips. A little bit had trickled down over her chin. She looked like a vampiric, vixen, succubi; her hair a tangled mess around her face and down her back. Wild and primal and yet her eyes held a longing, desperate innocence.
And she was relaxed in his arms. Her trust in him was suffocating and very naive.
He moved his hands up her back until they were tangled in her hair. When she licked her lips, he grabbed it and pulled her forward, grinding his mouth against hers and after a moment she was kissing him as hard as he was kissing her. Their tongues at war. She bit down on his bottom lip, holding it in place as she ran her tongue along it. The taste of his blood in their mouths.
“You’re getting better at kissing. I like the blood play.” He moaned.
He kept one
hand tangled in her hair while he roamed his other over her body, touching every part of her. His erection strained uncomfortably in his pants, feeling deprived of her pussy with the thin strips of cloth in his way.
She was on fire in his arms. Maybe Allie wasn’t as innocent as he thought– her mind as messed up as his.
She was running her nails along his arms, leaving little red streaks in their wake. Her skin was inflamed, the heat between her legs like molten lava as the temperature in their little camp was rapidly becoming unbearable.
***
I need him. The pain of emptiness she harbored at her core tormenting her. To hell with just touching. She would take him regardless of her convictions.
She yelped when he tugged her head back, his hand in her hair tight and unrelenting, stopping herself from sneering at him. Using the opportunity to graze her nails down his hard chest with the need to add scars of her own.
“Sweetheart, lift your legs up.” Jack was tugging at her covering. She moved onto her knees right when he let go of her hair and tore the last remaining clothing she had. She was now completely stripped and in his lap; for once feeling no shame in her wantonness.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” His eyes were shifting over her bare body, watching as he took her naked form into memory or whatever Cyborg perusal voodoo he was doing. The golden light of the fire playing over their forms.
He clasped her hip and brought her back down on his lap. Feeling his hard-on beneath her, she slid her fingers into his hair and ground herself against it, covering his pants in her dripping essence.
“Jack… I need you.” She would beg him if she had to.
“I know, Allie, but if I don’t slow down a little, I’ll do things to you, to your cute little cunt that you wouldn’t like.” He said as he looked down to watch her press into him. She followed his lead, watching herself practically mate him through his pants, not minding his veiled threat.