13. Ansel

When her legs parted beneath him, her heat drew him into the softness of her thighs. How could something so fragile be so enticing?

But it did entice—all of her did. Her delicate flesh was a contradiction to the sharp tongue he’d gotten used to. She shifted underneath his weight, feet sliding up until they were propped at either side of him, knees bent as her hips rose. Ansel needed no further invitation.

He positioned himself at her entrance, his tactile response system sparking when he sensed the liquid arousal there. Visor pressed against her forehead and her breath caressing his glass, Ansel rolled his hips forward in an even, steady stroke, sinking into the heat of her folds.

The tight, wet warmth of her as she stretched and molded around him sent his sensory matrix into overdrive and kicked his Emotive Core Processor to an apex. The ECP translated the inputs into complex data patterns that dispersed through his system. As hard as he tried to keep up with the flood of it all, it was no use—Ansel could not make logical sense of the flurry of sensation.

He could only feel.

“Fuck,” he swore as his hips shoved forward of their own compulsion. Feeling her walls constrict around him burst white flashes in his vision and over-throttled the matrix of nano sensors woven through his carapace. They tightened and flared, wrenching control out of his grasp. Just as he thought he’d found agency, he found himself losing it willingly to the woman beneath him.

A moan—her moan—vibrated into his outer shell, its echoes burrowing into the very core of his PSU. And her hands, when she brought them up to lace her fingers at the back of his neck, transmitted a keen urgency in their touch.

“Closer,” she affirmed her body’s plea.

Ansel cupped the top of her head with one palm and brought the other to her waist, gripping the tactile flesh for purchase.

Closer, he thought.

He plunged his hips forward, relishing the cry it ripped from her lungs as he inserted himself fully into his mark.

Closer.

He pulled back and punched forward. The rough motion would’ve driven her up the bed if not for his hand holding her small form firmly in place underneath him.

Closer.

He curled his shoulders over her, scanning down to observe the way the dark brown nipples atop the delicate mounds of her breasts hardened when exposed to the air beneath him.

“This close?” He grunted and thrust into her again, raking the hand from her hair to her breasts, squeezing both soft swells easily in one palm.

Her hips shoved upward against him, her head thrown back to bare her neck. The strained tendons there shifted, her jaw taut as her eyes rolled, lids falling heavy. “More.”

Ansel dragged the hand on her waist to her hip and across to her thighs, wanting to analyze—feel—the liquid heat there. When his fingertips found the nub of nerves between her legs she seized, back arching as she gritted her teeth.

“How close do you want me?” Ansel asked, pressing his fingers into her clit as he let control of his thrusts slip away, into something more erratic. He brought his visor to her ear, pushing against her lobe when she turned her head to expose her throat for him. “How close can you take me?”

Tisha dug her nails into his neck. Her hands scraped down and across his shoulders, then to his sides. The haptic feedback of her desperation pounded in his core as his movements grew increasingly haphazard. The mattress screamed beneath them, barely drowning out the desperate creaking of the wooden frame as it launched itself repeatedly into the wall under his thrusts and her replies.

“All of you,” she wheezed breathlessly, each word interrupted between violent thrusts as she curled her legs around his waist and drew him in. “I want to take all of you.”

That was all it took—the yearning plea in her voice and words made his synthsac tighten. What was it about hearing this human beg for him that frayed the last shreds of governance over his impending release? His shaft swelled with lubricant, the temperature controllers in his groin warming as pressure buildup ensued.

Her hips bucked at his fingers as he continued to rub at her clit in a firm, steady rhythm despite his erratic violation of her depths. She reached for him, chasing his jerking thrusts, but he needed more. He took her chin firmly in hand.

“Take me, then,” he said, turning her face toward him in his hand. “But first you give.”

Her eyes were shadowed orbs glinting in the moonlight, and when their gazes locked, her body seized beneath him. She went rigid with a hoarse cry that bit through the groan of the bed, then melted into a pool of flailing release so uncontrolled that Ansel had to clasp both hands to her hips to keep her on his shaft. With a few final hilted thrusts into her constricting core, he exploded in kind, filling her with surges of his synthetic oils.