This short and very spicy read is a quick taste of life in space

I’m pinned down and low on ammo. If I stand, I’ll present a target, and I know that’s what he’s hoping for. He’s impossibly quiet, waiting for me to make a move, and it is making my heart race. There’s nowhere in this tin hallway to go except that storage cupboard at the end of it.

Getting there won’t be easy. But if I can hide there long enough to recharge my laser, I might get out of this alive. It might be a terrible idea, but it’s the only one I’ve got. I tuck my gun into the waistband of my yoga shorts and wriggle on my belly down the hall.

I reach the cupboard. It’s smaller than I estimated. But I’m small. He’s not. Maybe his size will make this invisible to him as a possible hiding spot? If I have the element of surprise, a recharged weapon, and some speed, I could still take him.

I curl into the cupboard, pull out my weapon, and attach the charger that’s tucked into my bra. I pull the door closed, quietly, and wait, watching the battery indicator creep higher. All I need is five minutes, and I’ll have plenty of charge for a kill shot.

I’m breathing hard, but not from exertion. I just ran the length of the Demeter, narrowly escaping a hard volley of laser fire, but it’s the silence that’s spiking my adrenaline. I can’t hear anything outside my hidey hole. I don’t know if he’s in the hallway or has gone another way.

I won’t know if it’s safe to come out till I do it. That’s okay, I say to my beating heart, we are just gonna wait here till my gun is charged. Then I’ll crack the door and shoot to kill.

I watch the dim battery indicator, the only light in my hole. Four minutes left. Then three. I start to relax. I’ve got this. Two minutes.

Suddenly, he yanks open my cupboard door, sticks his weapon into the crack, and shoots. I’m hit. It’s a chest shot. There’s no recovering from this. I clutch my breast where the laser burns.

He grabs my ankles and drags me out of the cupboard. As soon as I’m in the hallway, unable to move or protest, he pulls off my shorts and falls on top of me.

“What do I get for winning,” he wants to know, laughing into my ear, biting my neck.

“What do you want?” I giggle, wrapping my legs around his hips. According to the rules, he can screw me right here. I’m not allowed to move after a kill shot. I’m his now, to do with what he wants — the spoils of war.

He kisses the spot where the laser hit. It’s hot there. Not hot enough to burn. Hot enough to hurt, though. I pull off my bra so he can reach the spot he hit. He bites my breast instead, crushes himself, hard, against me, so I know how much he enjoyed winning.

He is warm from the exertion, and he’s always warmer than I am. His body runs hotter than mine. It’s one of the delicious things about my alien warrior from Viresi. I know little more than the name of the planet he’s from, and getting him to talk about home is almost impossible, but I do know that the men are huge, hot, and incredibly strong because I’ve been living on this ship with one of them—the one on top of me now—for most of my adult life.

“I want one of those free passes like you gave me before we went to Zemjata,” he says into my neck, his breath and sharp nibbles as he moves back toward my breasts are warm and arousing. “You know what I mean. Where you agree to anything I want without question. Obedient, like. That’s what I want.”

“You know what I mean. Where you agree to anything I want without question. Obedient, like. That’s what I want.”

I raise my hips, looking for him, but he is teasing me and pulls away.

“Last time I gave you one of those,” I say, “a dominatrix made me her sub and let animatronic snakes bite my breasts.”

“Yeah, it worked out well. You should give me another one of those.”

I pout. It had worked out well. Our time on Zemjata had been too brief.

“I miss Sassa,” I whine. Sassa was the dom who had played such a pivotal role in my last reckless sexcapade. We’d invited her to leave Zemjata and its treacherous slave trade and come with us on the Demeter. But, of course, she has a life there. What did we really know about her? We spent a few languorous days together, most of it not talking about work. She probably has a family and a job and such like that. Why would she choose to hurtle through space in this tin box, chasing dangerous food and cooking it in front of cameras with a couple of weirdos like me and Gunn?

“How about you tie me up instead?” I parry. I like to get tied up and no one ever seems to want to do it. Rope is what got me into trouble on Zemjata. I kiss and reach for him, by way of tempting him toward my offer.

“Hah! That’s what you get when I lose, my tiny beauty! I won this fight, fair and square! And I want me one of those free passes that are so yummy and that you don’t like to give.” He wagged his eyebrows at me, teasing, kissed me, and poked his erection at my entrance to make me willing.

The idea of giving Gunn a free pass scares me. He wants things that scare me.

Scary is, in actual fact, his superpower.

One of the few things I know about his home planet is that being scary was necessary to his survival. He was so good at it that they called him Gunnvaldor the Terrifying, so in more civilized places, like most of the places we go, people panic at the sight of him. He knows he’s scaring me.

Mostly, though, I want to give him everything he asks for because… Look at him!

He is huge, dark, dangerous, and rendered entirely in sexy, sinewy muscle. Looking at him makes my knees weak. Touching him arouses me to the point of desperation. Him hovering over me, like this, with hard and probing me, is making me insane.

We both know what happens to war captives in this game. The only reason we play laser tag is to determine who will be the captive afterward.

Yet, I’m well aware that if he’s asking me to agree to something blind, he wants something I’ll refuse. I don’t refuse much. So, I know that whatever he wants is something I definitely don’t want.

He pulls my entire body into his arms and stands up, showing off his brute strength. He carries me, effortlessly, around the corner to our bunk. I squirm and try to get free, roleplaying the war captive I just became. We both know what happens to war captives in this game. The only reason we play laser tag is to determine who will be the captive afterward. I have never won this game, though I do try.

“Demeter,” he says. “Turn on sexy lighting in the bedroom and tell Vif to hold still.”

The lighting in our room, the built-in metal furniture softened with cushions and furs, turns a muted orange as we enter.

“Vif,” says the ship, sternly through speakers in the bedroom. “Hold still.” She giggles. He programmed this entire response, but it’s funny every time.

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These erotic and steamy erotic science fiction stories are for adults, over 18, and are loaded with M/F sex, F/F/M menage, M/F/M menage, light and playful consensual bondage, power play, enslavement, and — even — tentacles.