by Naomi Lucas
Rylie nodded.
“Let’s hope we don't see anything.”
“I don't know, I am a little curious. I've never had any of the experiences that you or the others have, but then again I tend to stay near the homestead.” Her sister walked past her toward the interior but turned back before she entered. “I suggest you take advantage of your Cyborg, Rylie. Curl up with him tonight.” She giggled. “He'll make your fears go away.” And then she was gone with a flick of her hair over her shoulder.
Rylie took a deep breath and joined her da at the helm, relieving him of the console as captain. Her eyes stayed on the pewter-hued water as she sailed beyond the point of no return.
NETTO AND ZEPH PREPPED the gear, although there wasn't much on hand that could help them with their potential problem. Netto donned his bio-suit while Zeph checked their weapons. Netto would be rechecking his own as soon as Zeph turned his back.
He ran his hands over the tools on his belt, hoping he wouldn't have to use them.
“This may have nothing to do with the crops,” Zeph growled, examining the bullets in one of the guns.
“No.”
“This could be a waste of time.”
“Yes.”
Zeph jammed the clips back into the weapon with more force than needed. It wasn't lost on him that his partner was tense and had been so for some time now.
Zeph cracked his knuckles. “I'll stay up top while you go overboard.” They had gone over the plan once already and a second time would only be a waste, but apparently, his partner wasn't happy with what they had agreed upon. Netto lifted his hands away from his tools and clasped them in his lap. He sat rigidly, his head bowed in the confines of the interior lounge. He was far too big for the space.
“Yes.”
“I'll be nothing but a glorified babysitter.” Zeph picked up the next gun.
Netto couldn’t care less about their positions. If it were up to him, he would've traded places with Zeph to stay near Rylie, but one of them needed to be below and to track the sensory modules. Although Netto wasn't built for the abyss of the ocean, he could go a lot further down than his partner. He could withstand the pressure.
The Croc had an advantage where the water met land; his speed was incomparable within the deltas, swamps, and rivers that veined out from the ocean. Zeph was king there, but when it came to the open water, Netto was unmatched.
They stopped what they were doing when footsteps sounded on the stairs. He knew it wasn't Rylie but he looked up all the same. Janet appeared a moment later.
She stopped and eyed them, scrutinizing out the various mechanical constructs and tools scattered around the space. Her blue eyes didn't meet his but went directly to Zeph.
“We’re past the agri-lots now. Da wanted to make sure you knew.” She pointed her finger at the equipment. “What’s all that for?” Her lips twisted in concentration as she stepped from foot to foot, unable to keep still. Netto let Zeph answer, knowing that his partner had grown tense under the girl’s perusal.
“Everything we need to make your life perfect, beautiful,” Zeph said with a hint of flirtatious disdain.
Janet looked down at him, judgmental in her demeanor. “Good, and here I thought you were all talk and no show.”
Netto commended the girl for holding her ground against a Cyborg who could kill her in one hundred different ways. He bowed his head and looked at the knife in his hand, hiding his smile.
“I can show you whatever you want, sweetheart, but I'm afraid you're not likely to appreciate it.”
Janet ignored him and turned to face Netto. Zeph stiffened at his side and if Netto didn't play it carefully, he knew the Croc was going to blow.
“So what's the plan?” she asked him.
“Zeph will stay above and protect while I'll go below and scout.” Netto leaned back.
“So Netto will do all the work.” She waved her hand at Zeph, “and you do nothing. Why am I not surprised? Zeph, I’ll go find you some towels to hold so you can at least feel useful.” Janet turned and left as quickly as she had arrived.
Netto couldn’t help the painfully wide grin. He had never been so amused. The Croc was ready to commit murder, wavering on the edge of control time and time again by one scrap of a girl and he had the audacity to tell Netto to find his center. He glanced at the weapon in Zeph’s hand to find it bent.
“I'm glad one of us is amused,” he growled low.
Netto’s grin didn't waver, but he didn't say anything, simply enjoying the moment.
Zeph stormed out of the room, following Janet up the stairs. When his partner was gone, their upcoming task came back to weigh upon him. Netto buried his face in his hands, running his palms against his temples, and massaged the worry and strain from his face.
The evening was approaching and they wouldn't make it to the barrier until the next day. The dark had never bothered him before, and it didn't now.
But it had been a long time since he had been so far out on the ocean at night.
For the short duration he had served after the war with the EPED, his job hadn’t been to hunt monsters, retrieve supplies, or find cures. It had been to help colonies on planets with vast bodies of water. He had been bred for it and although his beast didn't belong in space, his cybernetic mothers and fathers believed there would always be a need for Cyborgs who could thrive in aquatic environments.
So here he was, many years later, working for the government again.
Netto inhaled deeply, allowing his lungs to fill up before expelling the thick air. He tasted the ocean on his tongue. Salt, sweat and boat exhaust before he cleared it from his system.
He hadn't seen Rylie since that afternoon because he was afraid. Afraid of the power he no longer controlled within his own frame.
A week ago, the thought of the female liking him would’ve been absurd. Netto’s fingernails dug into his thighs, past his suit, and into his skin. His cock twitched with the memory of her scent.
He could hear her footsteps up above, and when he concentrated, he could hear her breath, soft and precious, hushed and velvet; he could hear the thump of her heart and the movement of her body. He could hear her voice in the meek undertones beneath its well-crafted courage.
His name had come up multiple times and he tried not to eavesdrop, but her voice called to him with its magnificent sweetness. He was a starving man standing before a banquet just out of his reach.
His blood rushed to his manhood, thickening before he could stop it.
Netto watched his erection hardened and bulge, straining against his bio-wetsuit. His ear twitched. No one was coming and there was still time before his long night in the water. He focused on the hum in the walls and the waves hitting the ship; he pictured the rusty metal of the machinery and felt it within himself. Nothing helped weaken his cock.
Netto. Rylie's voice took his breath away.
He spread his thighs to release the pressure on his balls. He replayed his name on her lips again and again and knew he fought a losing battle. He looked down at the battering ram that was his erection.
Its massive size had been a side effect of his shark and Cyborg DNA and nanocells. It was proportionate to his body; thick, long, almost a limb in and of itself. Most of what was in him was bull shark, one that could withstand salt and freshwater but he still had an enormous amount of great white threaded through his veins.
The cybernetics doctors joked that they would have created him with megalodon DNA if they had any. Netto thanked the nano-gods for small favors.
Only an unappealing sexbot would ever be able to fit him. He was too wide to ever fit inside a female, and never a human woman, especially anyone as slight and small Rylie.
Netto gripped his dick as he pictured her. He stood up, holding his own monster in his hand, and stormed to Rylie's bunk. His tongue ran over the sharp points of his teeth as he gave in.
Maybe this will be enough. Maybe succumbing to my baser instincts will be enough to not take her. Enough to not pictur
e her in his embrace everywhere he looked. Enough to not force himself upon her.
He looked down at her bed and its perfectly made sheets. He nudged down his wetsuit and let his manhood free. It sprung out and away from his body: a thick, dark blue veined rod, desperate for release.
She sighed somewhere above him, a hint of sound to tickle his senses, and he squeezed himself, imagining her breath over his lips. He ran his hand up and down his length, rubbed the tip, then back down to grasp his root.
Depravity fueled him. Years of pent-up control faded to nothing, ashes of his past. He thrust into his hand, claiming dominion over something he didn't actually have—Rylie's sweet opening before him.
Netto pictured swollen pink lips, wet and glistening, aroused by him, for him. He envisioned trust in her eyes as she gazed up at him. Her body would be covered in the pink hue of her blush as he pleasured her, and she'd throw her head back, breathing a soft moan between them.
He tightened his grip, thrusting and ravaging, laying conquest on the space around him. He moved faster, stronger than any human man and his utter inexperience with his erotic musings and the female body made him frantic and wild.
In his mind’s eye, Rylie's legs were spread, opened to him. The image practically projected through his visual tech. He filled in the gaps. His cock pulsed under his palm, releasing precum over his tip. The slick of it spread as his grip tightened, urging more to squirt from his system.
Rylie’s fingers would be holding her sex open as he bent down and looked at her. He bent down to reenact it, his knees facing her pillow.
He imagined his tongue sweeping to lick her chapped lower lip. The area around her mouth red and raw from his many kisses.
She opened her legs further as he moved down her body to fit his face between her thighs. He breathed her in and tongued her clit, every tremble and twitch would be his. Her cunt now glistened with his saliva and her essence. No cum would be there. No, it’d be deep inside her, where his seed would take root in her womb.
Netto wanted it to take over her soul.
Rylie would arch a little bit under his scrutiny, shying away from his dominion as her teeth sank into her lower lip with embarrassment. It thrilled him to think she’d be timid beneath him. He wanted her to always feel embarrassed and needy. Netto wanted to growl out a litany of compliments for her to feast on every day. He wanted a lot of things when it came to her.
He thrust hard and his dick rammed into her bedding, the thick mushroom head slamming into the thin mattress. He let loose a groan as a streak of his cum marked it. Netto wanted her to fall asleep tonight while he was in the ocean, knowing she was less than an inch away from his seed.
With a growl, Netto jerked and came over her sheet; he buried his face into her pillow and bit down hard, shredding the cotton with his teeth.
“Oh, oh no,” gasped a soft, feminine voice
Netto shot upright, his eyes meeting Rylie's shocked ones in the doorway. His blood ran cold. Shreds of her linen fell away from his teeth as his dick sprayed cum across the bed and onto the floor. It remained hard even after release.
She backed up into the hall, her back hitting the wall as her eyes took in the full length of him. He saw his image branded in her head. Her eyes shifted to her bedding, the pillow ripped in half and shredded all around.
“Rylie,” he growled, letting go of his dick to pull up his pants.
She turned away and fled up the stairs.
“I'm sorry,” she cried, her voice no more than a squeak. “I'm sorry, oh my god! I didn’t mean to look at you. I didn’t know. I heard noises.” Netto ran after her, feeling his blood course within his veins. He grabbed her before she reached the landing. “Oh my god!”
“Rylie,” he said, wanting to groan when his hands wrapped around her upper arms. He turned her to face him. “I can explain.” She shuddered in his grasp and struggled to get away from him. Her eyes wide and white, her throat swallowing over and over. Her skin prickled under his fingers and the stress of being attacked radiated through her body.
“Please let me go! I didn't mean to interrupt. I'm sorry.”
Netto bared his teeth and she leaned away. He closed his mouth quickly, guilty for scaring her. “Rylie, I want you.”
She sucked in a breath, the rasp and squeeze of it forcing its way down her tight throat. He scanned her face as he held her. Her body had grown rigid in his embrace, no longer fighting him. Netto wasn’t sure she heard him. She was taut as a whip, snapping at its assailant, and Netto wanted to shake her.
“Say something,” he demanded. It felt like the air around them tightened, and all sound fled the space; it was only him, Rylie, and the strain between them. There was no one left in the whole world.
She was a rabbit caught in a trap, her eyes wide with fear, staring at the predator who would never let her go. Netto loosened his hold as he exhaled a frustrated breath.
Rylie had invaded all of his senses and yet he still waited for her to speak. Netto needed her to speak. If she ran, he didn't know if she would forgive him. If she would ever let him near her again.
“You destroyed my bunk,” she gasped out. Netto canted his head.
“I'll fix it,” he said without releasing her. She was tiny compared to him, more so than the average woman, and it had never been so apparent until now. Even if he got her into bed, Netto didn't think he could fit inside her.
His erection remained hard between them, and he only had to look down to judge its size in comparison to her. It frustrated him that he wasn't smaller, more accommodating. If it was, losing control wouldn't be so dangerous.
She followed his gaze downward and stared. Netto released her and stepped back, wishing not to alarm the girl.
“I'm sorry. I'll take care of it. You should leave.” Netto didn't wait to hear her ascend the steps but turned back toward the quarters he had vacated.
The bedding that he’d been thrusting against minutes before was torn up, destroyed, just like she said. No, he could never trust himself with her.
Netto clenched his hands and tore the sheets away, picking up the pieces of the pillow, furious with himself. It was almost time for him to descend into the water, which was a relief because a communications blackout never sounded so good to him before.
A night of vigorous exercise would do him good. Getting away from the family and escaping into his own element might be the cure he needed.
“Netto.” He stopped and turned to see Rylie once again standing in the doorway. She chewed on her lower lip and his eyes snapped to the movement as he imagined sinking his teeth into that lip and doing it himself. She shifted from side to side but didn't say anything more.
She's going to tell me to leave. She's going to tell me she doesn't want me, that it wouldn't work out. He waited for her to speak.
“I...” Rylie began but stopped. His nostrils flared and he couldn't believe what he was smelling. “I... Damn this is hard to say.” She looked away and placed a hand over her stomach.
Netto continued to sniff the air, certain he could smell desire. A delicious nectar that made his body tense with need. His eyes dilated. He held his ground so he wouldn't force himself on her.
“What's hard to say?” he asked, unable to recognize his own voice, deep with need, as a frenzy built within him.
“I want you too,” she said at last in a rush. Netto wasn't sure if he heard her correctly and replayed the sentence over and over in his head. Rylie looked everywhere but at him, her eyes catching the shreds of cloth on the bed and the destroyed pillow between his fists.
“Can I kiss you?” she asked, her eyes finally meeting his. She trembled under his gaze. Her thrumming heart filled his ears.
Kiss me? He shook his head. “I don't think that's a good idea.”
Rylie visibly paled and let out an embarrassing sound of distress, but she didn’t run away.
“Is it because of your teeth?”
“Because I don't think I'll be able to stop with j
ust a kiss.”
They stood in silence, each measuring the other's words. Netto couldn't believe it. He couldn't quite fathom this was even happening.
The smell of his seed was strong within the small quarters. It dampened the interior of his suit and, based on the twitch of her nose, he knew she could smell it, too. Like sea salt and cream.
“Maybe we don't have to stop at a kiss?” She took a step toward him, entering the room. “I’ve never been kissed before.”
His eyes narrowed. “Good,” he rasped out before he could stop himself. “But we should stop before the kiss.”
Rylie didn't move closer to him. She looked confused at his words, and the realization flashed over her face soon after. Her eyes closed in mortification.
The energy between them crashed like waves during a storm, but with each new wave, there was a moment of burning anticipation and brittle calm. Netto had chosen to calm the waters. Her face hardened and he saw her close herself off from him, not even a blush painted her cheeks.
The walls re-erected themselves.
“You're right.” She took a step back with a nod. “You're right,” she said again and turned to leave.
He grabbed her arm before she had the chance. His eyes snapped to her lips as they pressed into a desperate line.
They remained like that, neither one willing to make a move, unsure about which steps to take next.
He took in her face, her eyes, the puzzlement in them as her gaze searched his. Rylie looked at his mouth. Her breaths came out in short pants. The air was tight and heavy between them as he lowered his face to hers, stopping a hairsbreadth away.
The position was awkward, the angle uncomfortable, but he wouldn't change it for the world. The ship dipped under them, but he held her up and braced against the waves.
“Netto, what are you doing?” she whispered and the words kissed the short space between their lips. Netto briefly closed his eyes and savored the feel of them. The tension in her body melted away and she became pliant in his hold, the muscles of her arm relaxing within his grip.
“This can’t happen.”
“Why not?” Her hands came up to settle on his forearms, the touch light and unassuming.