Cyborgs: More Than Machines

Chapter 10

When the ship settled into a more sedate speed, one where it didn't feel like her face would peel from her skull, Chloe unbuckled herself and stretched. A twinge in her arm reminded her of her injury. She peered down at the area and cringed at the blood staining her sleeve. But she knew for a fact flesh wounds bled as copiously, if not more at times, as deep ones. First things first. Before she could assess the damage, she needed to clean the spot of the injury.

As with most starships, the single residency cabin owned an adjoining compact bathroom. She turned on the sink tap, only to realize she didn't have anything to wipe her arm with. Peering into a narrow cabinet over the toilet, she found a large towel folded in to a neat square, but no small cloths. Under the sink, behind a dusty roll of toilet paper, tucked at the back, she found an unexpected surprise, an emergency med kit. She yanked it out and popped the lid. An array of sterile bandages stared back at her, along with wipes still in their aluminum wrappers. Peeling open the cellophane, she made an exasperated noise as the flimsy tissue for cleaning ended up desiccated.

She sighed and happened to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. What a mess. Black streaks marred her complexion, while her hair hung in limp strands around her head. Screw washing just her wound, she needed an allover clean. Decided, she stripped and stepped into the small cubicle. The water, while not exactly scalding hot, still did the job, sluicing the dirt of the escape from her skin and making her hiss as it hit the gouge in her arm. Turning her back to the spray, she held her arm up and peeked at the problem spot. She winced at the shallow gash in her skin. While long, it seemed more of a flesh wound - even if it felt like she'd gotten torn open when it first hit - a few layers of stripped skin that would heal quickly and hopefully without much of a scar.

Not bad when she considered she'd been in the middle of a firefight. She wondered how her cyborg fared. Thinking of whom, did he have a name? When she tended to him as a prisoner, she'd not wanted to ask because somehow personalizing him would have made him all too real - more man than machine. But now that he took her, who knew for what, although she could guess, it seemed stupid to try and keep herself at a distance. And I'll admit I'm curious.

Cyborgs - or at least the one she'd met - were nothing like she imagined. For one thing, they were awfully human for something grown in a lab. Or were they truly humans with modifications like her captor implied? So many questions, and she wanted to know.

A shriek escaped her as the door to the shower cubicle opened and a large, naked body crowded her into the back corner.

Familiar blue eyes regarded her with smoky intensity.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed, her heart racing, and not just because of the fright. In the tight confines, she became only too aware of how naked her cyborg was and how happy he seemed to see her, or so she guessed judging by the hard poke against her belly.

"I am dirty and require cleansing."

"But I was here first."

"And?"

"This shower isn't exactly built for two."

A hint of humor glinted in his eyes and curved his lips. "And yet we are both in it."

"How am I supposed to get clean with you hogging all the room?"

"There is a human expression I believe appropriate for this moment," he drawled. "I'll wash your back if you wash mine."

His hands reached around her to cup her buttocks. He massaged her cheeks slowly. The teasing touch made her n*****s tighten, something he would surely notice given they pressed into his chest.

Flustered by his brazen attention, Chloe's cheeks heated as she stammered, "Um, that's not my back."

"And I forgot the soap," he replied, his smile widening.

Unsure of how to deal with a teasing cyborg, she didn't reply. Nor could she stop staring at him, caught by his vivid eyes that returned her intent perusal. She shifted her gaze only to find herself mesmerized by his lips. As if her regard were an invitation, he leaned down and brushed his mouth against hers. Her breath caught. He did it again, letting his lips linger on hers.

Earlier, with the adrenaline rushing through her body, she tried to rationalize the electric reaction when they touched as part of the rush from the escape. As for the kiss while he was prisoner, she'd blamed her enjoyment of that on the taboo nature of it. Now, naked, skin-to-skin, and hornier than she ever recalled, she had to admit, her reaction owed nothing to the situation, but had everything to do with him. He made her feel alive. Sexy. In his presence, a sense of safety imbued her, and yet at the same time, it was like she walked on the edge of a cliff. It excited her and she craved more.

Instead of pushing him away like a proper captive would, Chloe closed her eyes and gave in to what he offered. She let him kiss her.

And kiss her he did.

He caressed every inch of her mouth, nibbling, sucking and teasing flesh she never imagined could feel so much. When he inserted his tongue between her lips, letting it slide along her own, she moaned, lost in a wave of sensation - and heat. Lots of heat, mostly centered in her p***y.

During their kiss, her hands crept up around his neck. She clung to him, craning on tiptoe, the hot spray of the shower making the air in the cubicle moist. Not as moist as her of course. Her s*x ached for his touch. Make that hungered. Needed...

Wanting even more contact, more of everything he offered, she ground her hips against him, and he answered her unspoken plea. The hands on her buttocks slid up to her waist, the roughness of his fingers on her skin an erotic sensation. He turned her, wrenching her mouth free from his and drawing a protest from her. He spun her until her back pressed against his chest while his hands came to rest over her stomach and his c**k throbbed against her lower back. Her head fell back as his lips sought the lobe of her ear, nipping the tender flesh as his hands roamed her rounded tummy, slowly working their way down to her mound. He dragged his fingers through her trimmed curls, but instead of sliding between her thighs, his hands split up. They tickled down her thighs, his gentle urging parting them. She panted as he toyed with her, his calloused fingers a teasing friction against her skin that made her whimper as he kept stroking closer and closer to her p***y, stopping just short, driving her insane with need.

"Please," she gasped.

"What do you want, little one?" he murmured in her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine.

Forget shame. Desire controlled her. "Touch me."

"Like this?" He dragged a digit through her moist slit, wetting the tip of his finger in her honey before lightly brushing her clit. She cried out as her body arched involuntarily.

"Yes!" she hissed, willing to beg when he pulled his hand away after that one electrifying touch.

The finger returned, slipping between her nether lips, circling the entrance to her s*x, before dipping into her channel. In and out, he seesawed his finger while she could only tremble, her breath coming in harsh pants, her body taut with mounting pleasure.

He slid a second finger in, continuing his in and out motion. She whimpered. His reply was to bring his other hand into play, a digit wetting itself in her juices before touching her sensitive nub. And that easily and quickly, he sent her over the edge.