by Lucas, Naomi
A drink did sound good.
“I promise it won’t be anything more than a drink,” Raul continued.
Alexa just wanted to be alone. But a drink may fix things…
She faced him. “A drink then.”
He smiled. “Good. It’s a date.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
Raul backed up and adjusted his cock so it wasn’t tenting his pants. “Great! I’ll go finish up work and get everything stabilized before takeoff. You take some time. I’ll pick you up after shift. The room is yours.”
She mustered a smile. “Okay.” Please go now.
Raul swiped his wristcon to unlock their quarters. The door zipped open. “Until this evening, Dear.”
Alexa rushed to the door and locked it behind her, exhaling. She looked down at herself. Topless, with her hair down and a mess around her shoulders.
Your roots are showing.
She grabbed at her hair anyway and stormed to the bathroom. In a matter of seconds, she stripped off her clothes. She glanced at the mirror but quickly looked away.
She didn’t like looking at herself. There were scars, scars she never had the time to get cosmetically removed from her flesh that she didn’t want to acknowledge. They were a tribute to those first years alone, working to get off of Elyria. They were another reason, an easier reason for her never to get attached to a lover. She could blame the scars and not her DNA.
Alexa tugged open her locker to grab her dye and hesitated when a simple, silver canister sat in the front of her belongings. Marked on its side were the words Better Dye.
She threw it across the room at full force, clanging as it rattled the metal walls.
“Fuck you!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
She twisted to the shower unit and turned it on, setting the water at lukewarm. Fuck him. Fuck Hysterian. The canister rolled to her foot, and she kicked it away.
Stepping into the stall, she cursed him over and over, pummeling the unit around her. When her exhaustion returned, she was panting, sliding down the wall. The water drenched her from above.
“Fuck you,” she whispered, pushing her hand between her legs. Her fingers found her clit, and she dropped her head. She rubbed hard and fast, needing release like it was her next breath. Nerves sparked down her legs, making them shake with each hard stroke of her clit. And when it wasn’t enough, she pressed her thighs closed and writhed into her hand, mimicking sex.
Imagining what Hysterian would do to her…
“Fuck you,” Alexa moaned. She tossed her head from side to side. She pinched and rolled and rocked, growing desperate. The orgasm eluded her, though, and the longer it took, the more she lost her mind.
She screamed, pretending it was the scream Hysterian threatened to coax from her.
Alexa pinched her clit, begging for the tension to end, but it only grew worse. She imagined what he would be doing to her right now if she had stayed.
‘I’ll have you stretched and spread and screaming…’
She tried to picture Raul in Hysterian’s place, but couldn’t. She didn’t want Raul.
But I can stretch myself, I can spread myself, and I can scream without him.
Alexa pushed open the shower unit and reached for the canister, bringing it into the stall with her. She put it between her legs and rubbed against it. Thick and blunt, steely, it was Hysterian, and she slumped forward with a moan.
She wanted it inside her, eradicating this pressure. Alexa lined it up to her sex and pushed. She could do this. She could do anything to herself that Hysterian could do to her.
It was solid, without any give, and there wasn’t any tapering to work herself with. She wiggled and bit down on her lower lip, giving it her best effort. She couldn’t make it fit.
Alexa slumped, defeated.
The water sluiced down her skin as she pulled her hands from between her legs, giving up. Disappointment filled her. She wasn’t going to get herself off, no matter how hard she tried. She wasn’t going to make herself scream in release with all the effort of her fingers. All she could do was spread her legs, and even then, the stall was too small for much of that.
The water cooled. It soothed.
After a time, she pulled herself upright and into a sitting position. She pushed her hair out of her face. The water had long ago gone icy. Lifting her head, she let it cleanse her, calm her, and take everything else away.
Getting to her feet a short time later, noticing the wrinkles on the pads of her fingers, she grabbed the canister and sprayed the contents into her hair. Citrus and flowers invaded her nose. No chemicals, no cheap burn. It slickened her hair like silk.
Resignation was all she felt anymore. But with it came a little bit of peace.
She dressed and tugged her wet hair back into a bun.
“Takeoff is commencing in five minutes.” Hysterian’s voice filled her ears.
She smiled, left her quarters, and sat down at her desk. Raul saluted her. She buckled herself in, ready to leave Titan. To leave, have a stiff drink, and…
Never come back.
Eleven
“Contact Libra station. Let them know we’re coming and that we’ll need to restore the Questor’s resources and supplies,” Hysterian ordered, tapping his finger against the cloth covering his mouth.
Horace swiveled in his chair. “We’re heading back to Gliese then? Should I contact them as well?”
“No. We’re only laying over at Libra. There’ll be no other stops in the sector.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Horace swiped several of his correspondences away and brought up new ones. For the past few days, it had only been Horace working the bridge with him, and Hysterian preferred it that way. Daniels had done an okay job, but Hysterian preferred not keeping an eye on the bastard.
Overall, there was only minor curiosity in regards to Daniels’s abrupt departure. Hysterian hadn’t needed to provide his other bridge officer anything but the simplest explanation.
That Daniels left.
Horace had shrugged. He even grumped when Hysterian asked him to collect Daniels’s belongings from their shared quarters so they could be dropped off on Earth the next time they landed on the homeworld. Apparently, Daniels hadn't been liked, and morale had…gone up since his disappearance. It seemed that way. It might also have had something to do with the fact that Hysterian promoted Horace to second-in-command, and with that came a steep pay increase.
Horace was good at his job. He never questioned any decisions made, and promptly got his work done. All a captain could ask for in a subordinate.
Unlike some others in his crew.
Alexa was avoiding him.
It pissed him off, but he couldn’t do much about it. She needed time to come to terms with what he’d told her. What he planned to do to her.
What he wished to do to her… It was better that she accepted it on her own terms, in her own time. He had time.
He was going to have Alexa. Especially if she chose to remain in his employment after what he’d said. Hysterian couldn’t live with her otherwise, being tempted, because someday it would get the better of him. A mistake would be made. His mistakes often resulted in dire consequences. His job was dangerous, and if he planned to stay for the entirety of his contract with Nightheart, Hysterian needed to keep his head on straight.
Alexa made that hard as fuck with their current situation.
It may be a while before he found his perfect woman. Having Alexa around to enjoy in the meantime would make the wait immensely more tolerable. She would get whatever it is she wanted from him—if it was a pay raise or a promotion she’s after—and he would get his practice on her.
Hysterian rubbed his brow.
He wouldn’t be here either if it weren’t for his…problem.
His future meant nothing if Nightheart couldn’t deliver. If Hysterian couldn’t touch living flesh without killing it, or making a person addicted to him, there would be no true relief. Alex
a or not, he’d be doomed to suffer.
There would be no escape.
It wasn’t only his secretion production that kept him away from others, from Alexa; he also had no reason to approach her. He’d come up with dozens of great ones but they were all lamely crafted excuses in his head.
I shouldn’t need a fucking excuse to talk to one of my crew. Hysterian’s jaw ticked.
He understood now why so many ships hired a live-in prostitute or invested in a state-of-the-art sexbot. He’d only ever fucked sexbots in the past, and although they were good—really good—at giving the illusion of a real woman, it wasn’t the same. They were too perfect. Too…plastic. It was the imperfections that made something real. Something warm.
He couldn’t have Alexa the way he needed yet, but he could fuck a sexbot and much more, plastic or not. One hard night with one will ease me.
It was decided. He was going to hire one on Libra.
“Captain?” Horace called to him, interrupting his thoughts.
“What?”
“Besides the problem with our water supply—which I assume we will have looked at while we’re on Libra and get the necessary items to fix it—are there any other supplies you would like to request?”
Hysterian thought it over. “Ask them if they have any suppliers or incoming transports of nanocloth.” Anyone could get nanocloth and manually configure it the way they wanted, but a Cyborg could control it on a cybernetic level. It was why they all wore a suit of nanocloth under their uniforms.
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll be warping tomorrow once we get to Juda. First thing. I want to get there quickly.” Hysterian scanned through his navigational specs. “Let the others know so they can prepare. Shift ends in five. Enjoy your evening.”
Horace raised his hand in acknowledgment.
Hysterian pulled up an information packet of everything on Libra station, familiarizing himself with the giant space port and what it had to offer. It was one of the biggest waystations in human territory, central to many of the planets humans now colonized. His crew would want to disembark for a reprieve as well.
Horace rose from his station. “Goodnight, Captain,” he said, making his way out of the bridge.
Hysterian nodded, continuing to download whatever he could about Libra for future use.
“Captain,” Horace said from behind him.
Hysterian broke his connection to the network. “What?”
“The crew’s been gathering in the lounge for drinks in the evenings. You should join us.”
Hysterian lifted his head and stared at Horace.
Is…is he inviting me? Odd. The crew had recently started to gather in the lounge, but he hadn’t paid it any thought. He only knew of it because Alexa joined them, and because of that, he couldn’t get her alone elsewhere. He didn’t give a fuck what the others did as long as they stayed in line and did their jobs.
“I’ll consider it,” he said.
Horace grumped and left. When his new second-in-command’s footsteps receded, Hysterian leaned back, commanding the bridge doors to close.
An empty quietness settled in once he was alone. The subtle buzz of tech hummed in his ears. He focused on it, letting his mind clear within the white noise. These few minutes after the end of the day shift were his favorite. He savored it, knowing what was in store for him for the rest of the night.
Water, pain, secretion, replenishment, and more secretion. More pain. The nights were getting worse. He was naturally diurnal, and the constant darkness of space shimmering at him through the port windows was fucking with his mind.
He couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t power down.
He could only secrete, empty his body, and start all over again, hoping, for once, he’d tire out and deplete his systems long enough to get through the next day.
When was the last time I slept? Weeks. It was weeks ago. Hysterian leaned his elbows on his knees and ran his hands over his head. His systems urged him to rest. He ignored them. But for how much longer?
He eyed the timing it would take for them to get to Libra. Three days if the port had a spot for his ship. Three days until he could have a better outlet than his hand. He stared at the tent in his uniform. Hysterian reached down and squeezed the growing bulge.
He knew why he suffered.
It hadn’t always been like this.
Once, he’d been head interrogator. During the war, he was known as the Tormentor because of his special ability. He could ingest any poison—toxin or otherwise—and his systems could replicate it within seconds. With a small touch, he could make men scream, go mad, or spill their guts and come clean.
He just couldn’t make his secretion benign…
Traitors, deserters, murderers, and spies were delivered to him, and it’d been his job to get them to confess, and during the war for which he’d been made for, his superiors brought him droves of prisoners. He could make anyone confess. If not with torture…with getting them ravenously addicted to him.
He smirked, remembering the good times.
Hysterian had more control then. He had an endless outlet that kept him satisfied.
He’d come to realize he’d been built wrong as the years went by, as the bodies piled up. He may have not spent much time on the front lines of the war, bringing down battleships, but he’d killed more than his fair share. And unlike his brethren, he was tasked to kill and torture humans.
Stepping into Dimes and becoming Raphael’s glorified pet had been an easy transition after Hysterian left the service.
Almost too easy.
He rubbed his shaft through his pants.
He always envied human men who could commit atrocities and not be bothered by it. He didn’t know how they did it, being entirely made of organic matter. If he didn’t have his systems to check him, to manually lessen his emotions, he wouldn’t know what would become of him.
I’ve spent my whole existence perverting life. And sex… He squeezed his cock again. Sex creates life. At least it could…
It wouldn’t fix him but he hoped it would help. And he didn’t want to create life as much as lose himself in the act of it.
Somewhere, in the back of his royally screwed up DNA, his animal demanded he fertilize. Fertilize what? Who the fuck knew? Humans didn’t fucking lay eggs. And there was no pleasure in the thought. But he was certain, until his animal was wholly satisfied, he was never going to stop overproducing secretion at the merest touch. A primitive need demanded he spill until his animal was appeased.
He was built wrong because his fucking doctors and engineers didn’t account for a frog’s mating habits.
If he’d known then what he knew now, he would have killed them all for their sins.
Hysterian’s mood soured. The silence became too much, and the incessant buzzing! His tongue begged him to be released and snap at everything that hummed. He shot to his feet and stormed out of the bridge. Nothing would help until he got into the shower.
Laughter sounded down the hallway. It came from the lounge at the end of the hall.
Clenching his hands, his frustration built.
More laughter reached his ears, and he immediately recognized Alexa’s. She was laughing? Her? Of all the people he’d ever encountered, he never imagined his by-the-book cold crew hand laughing. Had he ever seen her happy, or even pleased, in the month they’d traveled together?
Her blushes, her anger came to mind, but for the life of him, he could not bring an image to his head of Alexa with a smile on her face. He didn’t have one stored. He didn’t even have a fake one created for his amusement.
Hysterian stopped and stood outside the lounge.
“It’s not like you have a better choice. It’s either this shit or liquid brown.”
“Liquid brown?”
“The crap you guys call coffee,” Raul said.
“Even calling the sludge on this ship liquid brown is too much. It’s acid scum,” Horace grunted.
“Or Locust piss!
”
There was more laughter.
“More like our captain’s piss.” Raul again. “Here, hand me the vodka. If I’m going to suffer, I’m going to suffer wasted.”
Liquid pouring, chuckles, and clinking glasses sounded as his crew’s camaraderie continued. Maybe he wasn’t the only miserable one.
“What about you, Alexa? You want another drink?” Raul asked.
“It’s on the house,” Pigeon added with a chuckle.
“I think one a night is enough for me,” she answered with a laugh.
Hysterian crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Good choice. His crew could say whatever shit they wanted to about him, but he cared about what Alexa said and did. She was new to life out in space. It was so obvious, it was sad. A little cute, but also sad.
He found himself intrigued.
“Aww, come on. You always only have one drink, and it’s never stiff enough for you to let the load off. Relax for once,” Raul whined. “We’ll make sure you get tucked in safe and alone in your bunk tonight, I promise.”
“Don’t listen to him. He’s slurring his words.” Pigeon laughed. “We’ll need your help getting him into his bunk—alone.”
“We might find him curled up with one of those female aliens you got caged if we don’t,” Horace rasped. “Or you, Pigeon. We know you’re in need of something to hold onto at night that isn’t a teddy bear.”
“Hey! It was a gift from one of my grandkids!”
Alexa let out another laugh.
Hysterian wished he could see her face.
“Fuck you guys. I’m not slurring my words,” Raul said. “Alexa, hand me that bottle.”
“Don’t! We’ll find him with that big horny male locust instead,” Pigeon warned.
“Shut your trap. Drinking is the only way to get to sleep on this ship. For being brand new, it sure has loud fucking pipes! And who cares if I end up with the animals? I don’t.”
You deserve the animals. Hysterian sneered.
“Here,” Alexa said. “You can make your own choices.”
“Thank you, Dear. You’re a princess.”
She coughed then guffawed. Hysterian lips twitched up.
“I’m not a princess,” she stated, sounding offended.