15. Roma
ROMA
The Lamplight finally stops sounding like it’s about to come apart in my hands.
Not safe, not stable, but the violence fades into something I can manage instead of fight.
The hull no longer screams under constant assault.
The systems still complain in low, persistent tones, like a patient that refuses to die but isn’t interested in making recovery easy.
The air holds heat now—trapped between metal and effort—layered with the sharp tang of sealant, the faint bitterness of scorched wiring, and something warmer, human, threaded through it.
The signal is still there. Faint. Stubborn. Alive.
Every time it flickers, something inside me cringes and lifts at the same time, like breath caught halfway between relief and fear. I focus on the numbers instead, on the slow climb of stability, on anything that doesn’t feel like hope trying to destabilize me from the inside out.
Behind me, Dux moves.
I don’t turn right away, but I feel it—the shift in air, the subtle change in weight distribution as he stands, the quiet sound of armor brushing against itself. He doesn’t move like a man trying to hide. He moves like someone who assumes space will adjust for him.
It usually does.
“Dorsal’s holding,” he says, voice rougher than before, worn down by strain and something else I don’t immediately name. “They’re circling wider now.”
“We forced a behavioral adjustment,” I reply, still facing forward. “They’ll test again.”
“They always do.”
I nod once, then finally turn.
He’s closer than he should be.
I don’t remember him crossing the distance.
That realization lands somewhere low in my awareness, quiet but significant. My pulse shifts in response, not sharp enough to alarm, but no longer aligned with the rhythm of the ship.
“You should sit,” I say, defaulting to something practical. “You’re still injured.”
Dux grins, and his laughter fills the cockpit.
“You underestimate Vakutan physiology. I am 99 percent healed.”
He puts his hand on my shoulder. I start slightly but don’t shrug it away. The scaled palm feels good. Warm, very warm.
“I’m more worried about you. I can see how the anxiety over your father is eating you alive.”
“I can handle it,” I say.
“I know you can.” The convinction in his voice takes me aback. I turn my head slightly to see his golden eyed gaze focused on me. “But if you need me to take over for a while, I’m here for you.”
The cockpit feels smaller now, the space narrowing around us without physically changing. The hum of the ship deepens, or maybe I’m just more aware of it. The warmth in the air presses closer to my skin. My senses sharpen in ways that have nothing to do with threat detection.
“Dux,” I say with a breathy sigh. “I--”
My voice trails off, because I don’t know how to put this feeling into words.
“You’re wondering if you can rely on this salty ex soldier,” he says. “You can. I mean, I want to be that man for you. The one you count on.”
“I counted on my father and he left me.”
It blurts out of my mouth unbidden. I flush red and cover my face with my hand.
“Oh, no…I didn’t mean that,” I say.
“Yes, you did,” he replies. “It’s normal to be bitter and angry. You lost your father, it’s only natural you feel this way.”
“Doesn’t make it right,” I say, still unable to face him.
Gently, he pries my hand away from my face and we lock gazes. His scaled face softens, the intensity of his gaze changing pitch.
“You are so beautiful,” he says in a deep, soft voice.
Beautiful. No one’s ever called me that and meant it. Not before now. I laugh, suddenly self conscious of how my hair is all frizzed and I smell of sweat and fear.
“You’re ridiculous, Dux,” I say, but my voice wavers. He turns his head slightly, moves his face in closer, and without thinking I lift my chin and part my lips. Dux’s lips brush mine, soft at first, testing the waters.
An electric thrill shoots through me at the feel of his mouth on my own. The kiss goes from exploratory to molten hot in about two seconds flat. My little gasps and sighs reflect back at me off the cockpit walls as the stars drift by slowly outside.
We pull back by mutual unspoken accord, our eyes meeting again. Something unspoken passes between us, and he moves in again.
There’s nothing gentle or probing about this kiss--it’s pure fire. I feel the sharpness of his Vakutan teeth, but also the sublime control he possesses. It’s rough, but he doesn’t hurt me.
He claims me with his kiss instead.
Dux’s tongue lashes against my own, the sensation sending a shiver through me. He tastes good. Like cinnamon and gunpowder and sharp licorice.
I’m suddenly up on my knees in the chair, holding his face with both hands as I kiss him back just as intensely. His hand slides from my shoulder down the curve of my spine. Then he pulls me out of the chair as if I weigh nothing.
God, he’s huge! I feel almost like a stuffed plush doll in his arms. But even though he could crush me in an instant, I know he won’t. I feel like I’ve known Dux for a long time right now, and I just go with the feeling.
He kisses me harder, deeper than ever before. I almost don't notice his clawed fingers tugging the zipper of my jumpsuit. Almost. I shrug out of the sleeves, assisting in my own disrobement without breaking the lip lock.
It doesn’t feel crazy, or like we’re doing something wrong. Everything feels so damn right it’s almost scary. Dux goes down on one knee as he strips me bare, tugging the leggings off at last. Even kneeling he’s as tall as I am.
I stand completely exposed to him. I don’t have to worry if he likes what he sees. His eyes widen, and glaze with desire that I fear will burn me to nothing. He pulls me into his embrace with the inexorability of a black hole.
Then his mouth is on my skin, mauling my breasts, suckling on my nipples, while his hands roam freely all over my body. His big hand glides down my spine, then to the slope of my ass. I moan into his muscled, scaled shoulder as he grips my cheek and pries me wide open.
I grasp him and my knees go weak as his fingers dip between my pussy lips, testing my wetness. I feebly pull at the clasps of his trousers, but he undoes them while still maintaining a firm hold on my ass.
His cock stands at full attention, dark red ridges mottling the surface. Dux’s crown has a vague heart shape to it, and is crowned with a pearlescent dot of moisture. His masculine, musky aroma fills my nostrils and all of the sudden I forget about the galactic core, the signal, everything.
He stands up, towering over me, and suddenly spins me around to face away from him. Dux bends me over the back of the pilot’s chair, my toes barely touching the ground as he shoves my thighs widely apart.
I arch my spine, pressing back ionto him as he slowly enters me. A groan escapes my body as he fills and stretches me with his magnificent length. Then his powerful hands gripo myu thighs and he thrusts into me for the first time.
My mouth forms an O as my eyes close of their own accord.
I see our translucent reflection in the cockpit glass, his massive red form looming over me as he curls his body and then snaps forward with every thrust. His eyes have that look, the look that says he’s completely given himself over to his desires--and that he’s using me to fulfill them.
I thrash about on the back of the chair, pulse after pulse of ecstasy streaming through my body. And he doesn’t stop, blasting my breath out of me with every pivot of his hips. I suck in a ragged breath of air only to let it out as a piercing scream.
He cums inside of me, filling me with his alien seed.
Then his cock throbs like crazy, pushing me over the precipice of another orgasm that makes me wonder if I’ll have bones left afterward.
I’m a loose limbed, shivering, orgasmic mess who can’t hope to stasnd on her own when he pulls out of me, but Dux has me covered.
He takes me in his arms and sweeps me into his lap as he takes the captain’s chair.
I pull myu legs up onto his lap and press my face into his chest. I don’t want to think about what just happened, if it was a mistake or whatever. I just want to bask in this feeling, this feeling of safety and being worshipped, even if it’s only temporary. Even if it’s only in my head.
Time stretches.
Not lost.
Just… unmeasured.
When the intensity finally begins to ebb, it does so gradually, the urgency softening into something quieter but no less present. My breathing steadies in increments. My awareness expands again, pulling the ship, the mission, reality back into focus piece by piece.
“This changes nothing,” I say, forcing clarity into my voice. “We still need to find my father and get out of here.”
Dux watches me, not reaching for me again, not challenging the distance. “Didn’t say it would.”
“It was…god, it was...” I grasp loosely at the air as if I might pluck the right words.
“Yes,.” he agrees. “It was.”
Something’s changed now. I can feel it in the way he stays close without crowding me. In the way I’m aware of him even when I’m not looking. In the way the silence between us feels different now.
“Dux,” I say, not turning.
“Yeah?”
“We finish repairs. We leave. We follow the signal.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“It is a plan.”
“I’ll try not to ruin it.”