Defying Death (8 page)

He’d never let her go.

Not after experiencing the bliss of breeding with
her mouth.

Death’s gaze dropped to her lips. Her pink flesh
glistened with his cum. Being inside her hot, wet mouth was a joy
unparalleled by any experience he’d previously known. It was better
than fighting, better than slicing a sharp blade through a skilled
enemy’s sword arm, better than blowing a hole into an approaching
warrior’s chest.

He would experience that again.

Multiple times.

Cyborg warriors would hunt them down and execute
him, but they’d never completely separate him from her. His
nanocybotics bubbled within Tifara. He’d always be a part of his
female.

Crash would safeguard her after he was dead. The E
model might be an inferior warrior but he had an overdeveloped
sense of honor and would never allow a precious female to be
harmed. Safyre would also insist upon it.

Death plotted their route, reviewed the ship’s
damage, scanned for other vessels. The silence on his transmission
lines was disturbing. Normally, thousands of voices communicated at
once, streams of continuous conversation, relaying often
lifespan-extending information.

He wasn’t the chattiest of warriors. He listened
more than he talked. However, he missed that link. It had been a
part of him since the planet rotation he had been manufactured.

He’d grow accustomed to its absence. His gaze
returned to Tifara. He had a connection to another being now, a
more important connection.

And she filled some of the quiet with her constant
talking.

She’d honored him with the discussion of her past.
He’d seen how telling him of her family’s deaths had damaged her
emotionally. He wanted to kill the beings who had left her alone,
the Humanoid Alliance medics who had observed the outbreak from
afar and didn’t assist her.

She’d been a precious offspring and a female. Both
would have warranted her any cyborg’s protection.

Death swept his lips over her forehead, tasting the
salt of her skin. Humans were ungrateful and illogical. He would
never take her presence in his lifespan for granted.

She shifted in her seat, murmured words he couldn’t
decipher, her tone unhappy. His scent was on her breath.

He had a female.
A female.
Death struggled to
absorb that astounding fact. If he managed to avoid the warriors
tracking them long enough, he’d produce offspring with this
female.

If he were truly fortunate, he’d live to see those
offspring born. He’d create links with them also and he wouldn’t
notice the silence.

Death reviewed the inventory on board the ship. It
had been stocked for cyborg passengers, not humans. Thankfully,
there were sufficient nutrition bars to replenish his female’s
energy levels until they reached Carinae E, the remote planet he’d
chosen. They would restock there.

It would be risky. Some being might relay their
location to the Humanoid Alliance or the human rebels. That being
could communicate the information on transmission lines his cyborg
brethren accessed.

But he had little choice. He had to feed his little
human.

She would remain on the ship, the doors sealed, the
perimeter monitored with sensors. He’d take what he needed from a
supply depot, rushing in and out of that structure, moving faster
than a humanoid’s vision system could detect.

Then they’d depart. No beings would know they’d ever
landed on the planet.

His Tifara moved once more, her whimper of distress
snagging his attention.

Her white jacket and flight suit were twisted around
her lush form. She struggled in her sleep to free herself.

Humans and their garments. Cyborgs, when not in
battle, were naked, as their design intended.

Death carefully peeled the layers of fabric away,
revealing Tifara’s pale skin and endless curves. She was soft and
round all over, lush yet vulnerable, having no hard frame to
protect her form.

That terrified him. His female was delicate, human,
easily broken. Her legs parted, revealing the brown curls covering
her mons, her pink pussy lips. She was wet, her flesh glistening.
He breathed deeply. She smelled wonderful, her musk hanging heavy
in the air.

Delivering more of his nanocybotics to his female
would strengthen her ability to heal should she become damaged. He
unfastened her boots, removing them from her tiny feet. It would be
easy to breed with her now. Her form was open to him, her pussy
slick with her readiness.

But that might damage his female emotionally. He
couldn’t risk that.

He could clean her, however. The trials of the
planet rotation had been left upon her skin. Death grasped a
cleaning cloth, snapped it to refresh it, and slid it over her
curves.

He explored the indent at her elbows, the fullness
of her belly, the scar on her right knee. The cleaning cloth was
refreshed multiple times, the dirt and grime converted to air
molecules.

He turned her, applying his attention to her
shoulders, her back, the valley between her plump ass cheeks. His
female didn’t wake. She murmured, her tone pleased, and she pushed
against his palms, encouraging his touch.

It took all of his control not to breed with
her.

Death set her on his lap, placed the cleaning cloth
on the console, and tidied her garments. He refreshed her flight
suit and jacket, folded them into a perfect square and stored
them.

As he leaned forward, she slipped down his thighs.
He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to
him.

“Mmm…yes.” Tifara pushed her curves against him. Her
breasts brushed his hands. They were the softest substance he’d
ever touched.

She would tempt an android.

It was best to reduce temptation. Death placed her
gently on her chair, putting distance between them, and he stepped
back. Her absence was felt immediately, his body aching for
hers.

His female must have had the same reaction.

She squirmed, lines appearing between her eyebrows.
“No.” Her bottom lip curled. “No.” Her eyelids twitched. “No.”

She’d wake. His Tifara was human. She needed to
sleep.

Death sighed. She also needed him.

As he needed her.

He donned his body armor. That added layer would
strengthen his control.

Death scooped her into his arms, carried her to his
own chair, and sat, settling her on his lap. She snuggled into his
form, her eyes remaining closed.

His female swept her hands blindly along his
stomach, chest, shoulders. She reached his bare neck and splayed
her fingers over his skin.

Then she wiggled up his body, toward that spot.

She sought skin-on-skin contact.

His cock bobbed, approving of that plan. He gripped
the armrests of the chair, digging his fingertips into the leather,
as his Tifara climbed him, rubbing her face under his jaw, over his
chin. The sexy sounds coming from her lips were enough to craze a
male.

He endured the erotic torture for countless moments,
distracting himself by compiling all of the data the cyborgs had on
themselves, putting that information on a private viewscreen. The
device’s communications systems were deactivated. His little female
wouldn’t have the ability to send or receive any type of
messages.

Her tongue flicked over his skin and he shuddered,
remembering how that tongue had felt on his shaft. Tifara burrowed
her fingernails under his body armor, leaving a stinging trail on
his chest.

She wedged her fingers too deeply between his armor
and body, became stuck, and whimpered. “Hurts.”

She’d damaged herself, trying to access his
form.

He had to give her what she wanted, what they both
wanted.

Death peeled her away from him, set her on the
console, and quickly removed his body armor for the second time
that planet rotation.

Lines formed between Tifara’s eyebrows. Her face
darkened. His female was easy to read. She didn’t like the
separation.

He didn’t like it either. Death returned her to his
lap and she mumbled her approval, running her palms over his
stomach, turning until she straddled him.

She cuddled closer and closer. Her lips dragged
along his collarbone, branding him with heat. Her breasts pushed
against his chest. Her pussy lips pressed against his hard cock,
her flesh warm and wet and welcoming.

Then she quieted. Her breathing deepened. Her form
softened even more.

He wanted her more than oxygen, aching from need,
from yearning, and she blissfully slept.

Fraggin’ hole. Death gritted his teeth and removed
his weapons to clean, one by one. The Humanoid Alliance could learn
a thing or two about torture from his female.

It would be a long rest cycle.

* * *

Half a shift later, Tifara started to move and
Death’s torment escalated even more. She rubbed along his shaft,
higher and higher, pulling herself upward, her fingers curling over
his shoulders.

Her eyes were closed but she must be conscious. She
must be. Because if she could shred his control like this while
sleeping, she’d decimate him while awake.

His female reached her goal, gliding her wet flesh
over his tip, positioning him at her entrance. He gripped her hips,
stopping her.

Once they passed this point, he wouldn’t have the
strength to resist her. He couldn’t pull back. He’d claim her
completely, filling her with his cum.

Taking his female in her sleep was wrong.

Wasn’t it?

She murmured her distress, wiggled, attempting to
free herself, to breed with him as he wanted to breed with her.

He had little willpower left.

“My Tifara.” He had to make certain she wanted
this.

“Need you, Death.” Her voice was husky with desire,
her need rivaling his. He was the male she craved. His name was on
her lips. “Please.”

That plea broke him. Death grunted his consent and
guided her downward. Her wet heat engulfed his shaft, her pussy
stretched around him, the grip snug, tight, perfect.

He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to come,
battling the instinct to make her his quickly, before anything or
any being could stop him.

She deserved as much pleasure as he could give her.
A part of him also realized that satisfaction in breeding would
bind her to him emotionally.

If he captured Tifara’s body, he’d capture her mind,
her heart, her soul.

She slid lower and lower. When the delectable
squeeze reached his base, Death rounded his back and rested his
face between her breasts. Her chest heaved against him. Her warmth
surrounded him. Her feminine scent teased his nostrils.

She was his. Death’s joy grew and grew until he
could no longer conceal it. He smiled against his female’s skin.
The uplifting of his lips felt alien yet right.

Then he realized what he was doing, the risk he was
taking, and he tensed.

Death raised his head and looked around them. They
were alone. The bridge was empty. There were no enemies to witness
his elation.

Tifara’s eyes remained closed. She wouldn’t see his
smile, wouldn’t return it with one of her own, putting her precious
lifespan in peril.

This once, he’d indulge his emotions. Death cupped
her ass, lifted her upward, gliding her along his shaft. Her pussy
lips touched his rim. Unwilling to lose the connection with her, he
drove her back downward. Her ass cheeks smacked against his thighs.
She gasped, clenched his cock.

Frag. She ravished him. He grunted and ravished her
in return, drawing her upward, driving her back down, drawing her
upward, driving her back down.

“Yes, Death, yes.” Her words reassured him. She
wanted him, wanted this.

He nuzzled her neck, breathing in the sunshine scent
of her hair. She panted, her lips parting. His female was the most
beautiful creature he’d ever seen and he longed to tell her that,
to give her the wooing words she deserved.

He couldn’t. A lifespan of holding his emotions
inside him didn’t allow that. The best he could do was show her. He
gazed at her with all of the intensity in his heart and thrust
upward into her downward drives, displaying the strength of his
passion, his need.

Her breasts jiggled. Death licked and laved them,
sucking on her pink nipples as he impaled her on his cock again and
again. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, that sweet pain
adding to his ecstasy.

“Death, I need.” Her pussy juices dripped between
his aching balls. Her inner walls contracted around his shaft. “I
need.”

He gripped her hips and pushed downward. Her pussy
collided with his base and he ground against her. The combination
splintered his female’s hold on reality.

She screamed, arching her back, and clenched his
cock. He roared a reply, pushed deeper and lost control of his
brain, his processors. Lights sparked in his vision system. Cum
shot from his tip, a glorious release—he almost didn’t survive
it.

Tifara screamed and clenched him again, forcing more
cum from his body, escalating his pleasure. She came once, twice,
three more times, draining his cock and his form dry, and her clasp
on him relented.

Only slightly. His tiny human would always be snug
around him. She enveloped him in an erotic embrace, her inner walls
vibrating to the tempo of his circuits, her lush form
quivering.

Fraggin’ hole. Death held her to him, shuddering
with bliss. Every time he thought he’d never experience anything
better, she proved him wrong, showing him a new level of
happiness.

His female mumbled incoherently into his chest.
Death rubbed her back, replying with action, not words, and he
mouthed over her hair, her brown curls tinged with flame, soft to
the touch.

He remained inside her and Death knew this was where
he was meant to be, inside his Tifara, her softness around him,
their link strong, physically and emotionally. Was that what the
humans meant by destiny, by fate—this feeling of rightness?