Claiming Cure (Dauntless Cyborgs #3)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Cyra was going to fuck her cyborg medic.

She tended her patients. Cure remained by her side.

And her need for him grew with every passing moment.

He would sometimes give her suggestions. That was communicated through the handhelds. He was careful not to undermine her relationships with the beings looking to her for care.

But most of the time, he remained silent and still. Unless her patients flirted with him. Which happened surprisingly often.

“Bless the Fates.” Tunkeil, a female patient with 42 solar cycles, gazed up at Cure. “You have a big male, Healer Cyra.”

“Tunkeil.” Her younger sister tittered. “Your mate is waiting for you. You’re not supposed to notice other males.”

“I’m mated, not dead, Tynkeil.” Tunkeil shook her head.

The female’s much-older mate had been one of the first beings Cyra had lost to the tumors. He had volunteered to work in the mines.

The male told her he had lived a happy and full lifespan. He wanted others to do the same.

“I have eyes.” Tunkeil’s tone was pert. “And I can see the healer’s mate is big. ”

“He’s big all over .” Tynkeil’s face turned bright orange.

“Tynkeil.” Tunkeil laughed.

The two sisters jostled each other.

“He’s within spec for a D Model.” Cyra had given up on telling beings Cure wasn’t her mate.

Cure’s eyes gleamed.

“I like those specs.” That comment from Tynkeil made the two females laugh again.

“The two of you have your tumor-slowing pills and your pain suppressors.” Cyra tried to redirect their attention to their medical status. “Continue to take one of each every planet rotation and come back to see me in ten planet rotations.”

“We’ll come back to see you, Healer Cyra.” Tunkeil walked with her sister toward the door. “Both of you.”

The females giggled as they exited.

The doors closed behind them, leaving Cyra alone with Cure. “Thank you for being understanding with…” She waved around them. “This planet rotation.” It must have been an ordeal for the often-too-serious medic. “My patients aren’t usually so…rambunctious.”

“Every patient we saw this planet rotation is taking the tumor-slowing pills.” He met her gaze. “Their energy levels should be low. And 64.2356 percent of them have pain levels exceeding the coverage of their pain suppressors. Yet they are…rambunctious, as you call it, laughing and teasing.”

“Your presence is a distraction.” Cyra shrugged. “It’s a bit of excitement in their lifespans.” The two of them tidied the patient chamber as was now their routine after each appointment. “And it’s something to chatter about other than illness and dying and the Invaders. The situation here has been very grim.”

“The chatter absorbs time you could utilize to tend to other patients.” His right arm brushed against her side as he swept a cleaning cloth over one of the chairs.

She trembled. With need. And with awareness.

“The chatter makes them happy.” It made her happy also. “And that joy gives them a reason to live, to fight for their health. They are more likely to take their pills. And attend their appointments. And listen to my suggestions.”

Cure stared at her.

A moment passed.

She continued to tidy the chamber.

“I have been processing the chatter incorrectly.” Cure finally nodded. “I’ll make that modification to my programming and add chatter to my list of repairs.”

The male was intelligent, handsome, large…and he was open to constructive criticism.

“Fates.” She put her cleaning cloth away. “I want you.”

Cure’s eyes blazed with an exciting level of heat. “The other patient chambers are empty. And Zorelle and the volunteers have exited the structure.”

“Since the Humanoid Alliance arrived on the planet, the Cancris don’t willingly leave their domiciles after sunset.” There were more places for the enemy to lurk in the darkness. And being caught by the Humanoid Alliance was almost always a death sentence. “There’s no one left in the medic bay for us to tend to.”

She slowly walked toward him, exaggerating the sway of her hips.

He watched her as though she’d entranced him.

She liked that notion. Her lips curled upward. “We could tend to each other.” She placed her palms on his body armor and medic jacket-covered chest.

“You want to breed with me.” His voice lowered to a thrilling rumble.

“I want to fuck you. Hard.” She drifted her fingertips over his form. “Give me a reason to live, Medic.”

“I’ll repair you.” He lifted her. Easily. And set her on the edge of the examination support.

The power in his form was so fuckin’ sexy.

“Repair me.” She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him toward her.

Their bodies smacked together, and both of them groaned. She gripped his shoulders and tilted her face upward.

He covered her lips with his. Their tongues met and twined. The bubbling sensation she now associated with him coursed through her.

As they kissed, the stress of the planet rotation fell away. Her headache numbed. Her other pains faded. She felt…well. And wanted. And beautiful.

There would be ramifications of fucking him. He likely wouldn’t see her in the same professional light after they got naked. But she craved him as she craved breathing. And she loved how he looked at her. As though she was all he had ever desired.

That was enough. More than enough.

She slid his white jacket off his shoulders. The garment fell to the floor. Then she plucked at his body armor. She was unable to remove it. It acted as though it was molded to his fit physique. She murmured her unhappiness against his lips.

Cure must have understood her muffled message. He ripped off the garment. Pieces of the body armor bounced off the walls and skittered across the floor tiles.

In heartbeats, he was naked. Gloriously so.

She stared at him. He was all flawless gray skin and bulging muscle.

And erect. Very much erect. His cock was long and thick. Her pussy grew wet. He would fill her completely. She would still feel him the next planet rotation.

That prospect curled her toes. She shrugged out of her medic jacket. “You’re almost as hairless as I am.”

His only hair was on his head.

He raked his fingers through those short black strands. “Removing it would be practical.”

“Fuck practical.” She kicked off her boots. “I like your hair. I would still have my own if…” Fates. She didn’t want to talk about illness and tumors. Not at the moment. “I like your hair.”

“I won’t remove it.” He said that as though her opinion was all he needed.

That turned her on. She unfastened her flight suit. “You should do what you want to do.”

“This is what I want to do.” He grabbed the lapels of her garment and yanked.

The fabric ripped and she almost came.

The act was so primitive and raw and wild.

Cure shredded her flight suit until there was nothing left. Then he stepped back and swept his gaze over her.

“Do you like what you see?” She inwardly cringed at the doubt in her voice.

Her body had changed since she became ill. And her confidence had been harmed also.

“I don’t like what I see.” His words cut through her, slicing straight to her soul.

“Oh.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I love what I see.” The admiration in his eyes healed her. “You’re beautiful, my female.”

“You think so?” She lowered her arms.

“I process that with 100.0000 percent certainty.” He captured her face between his big hands. “Any being with a functional visual system would process you’re beautiful.”

She smiled. “We’d attempt to heal any unfunctional visual system.”

“That’s a task for another duration.” He grazed his lips over hers. “I have a female to repair now.” He mouthed down her neck, leaving a trail of effervescence on her skin.

She hummed her appreciation and tilted her head back, giving him more of her to adore.

He nibbled over her collarbone.

Her nipples became taut with anticipation. She wrapped her legs around him. His hard cock connected with her wet pussy lips.

A shudder rolled through him to her. Their connection was physical. Yet more. It was as though she’d been missing a part of herself and he had supplied it.

She lowered onto her back. He dragged his lips downward, between her curves. The fizzing and bubbling radiated over her breasts. She sucked in her breath. The sensation was exquisite, a gentle reverberation of the pleasure to come.

“So beautiful.” His words vibrated over her. She felt that truth throughout her form.

He circled her right breast with his lips, his mouth, his tongue. Those orbits became smaller and smaller until he was achingly close to her nipple.

Cyra held on to his forearms, trembling, needy. She was close to the edge. All she needed was a little push.

“Look at me, my female.” The command in Cure’s voice compelled her to obey him.

Their gazes met.

In her cyborg medic’s brilliant-blue eyes, she saw a passion that rivaled hers.

He slowly extended his tongue.

Her breathing turned ragged. Her chest became tight.

He flicked her nipple.

“Cure.” Bliss burst in her brain. She levitated off the examination support, arching her back, gyrating in the air.

He strapped his arms around her, holding her to him, and he sucked on her taut tip, elongating it. The pressure extended her elation, drawing more, more, more from her.

Until she had nothing left. She went limp.

“My beautiful female.” He murmured endearments against her neck.

When she’d first communicated with him, she thought him cold, aloof, a bit arrogant. She had been wrong, so very wrong. His desire heated her all over. A link swirled between them, binding him to her and her to him. He had put her first, bringing her to mind-numbing satisfaction.

She wanted to move him to the same state. “I need to touch you, Medic.” She reached downward.

“No.” He caught her wrist, stopping her. “If you touch me there, I’ll find release without you. And I don’t want to do that. Not this first time.”

He feared he would come in her hand. Cyra wiggled with delight. That was how much he wanted her. She made the taciturn male lose control.

“Then I won’t touch you.” She stretched out her arms, linking her fingers high above her head. “With my hands.”

She undulated against him, rubbing her pussy lips up and down, up and down his shaft.

He groaned. That sound was low and deep and edged with need. “You test me.”

“You’ve already passed this test.” She smiled seductively up at him. “Feel how wet I am.” She slicked his length. “You make me this way.”

“Feel how hard I am, my female.” He pushed against her. “You make me this way.”

“I like that.” She rocked against him. Her hunger for him, for his cock, escalated.

The bead of pre-cum on his tip told her he was battling his passions also.

“You feel good , Cure.” She licked her lips.

He bobbed against her. “My Cyra.”

“I need that hardness inside me.” She tilted her hips.

Cure made a hurting noise. “My female.” He pulled back, aligning his cockhead with her empty entrance.

The male was huge. And she experienced a moment of doubt.

Maybe they should have worked their way up to the fucking stage. She?—

He drove his hips forward.

A shriek escaped her lips. She was full. Too full. He touched places inside her no one had ever reached. And she was stretched to the point of pain around him.

He froze in place. “I damaged you, my female.” Her normally stoic male looked distraught.

“You blew out my pussy with your huge cock.” She summoned a smile. “But give me a moment, my male.” She adapted his form of address. “And you’ll have a chance to fix it.”

“My nanocybotics will repair the damage.” He nodded.

The healing properties of his nanocybotics fascinated her. “And you’ll transfer them to me…how?”

“My nanocybotics are contained in my saliva and in my cum.” He remained lodged deep inside her, large and throbbing and so very…male.

She loosened slightly around him. “That’s the fizzing I feel when you kiss me.” The bubbling danced on her tongue, inside her mouth.

“Yes.” Cure nodded.

He chattered about a cyborg’s nanocybotics, what they consisted of, how they responded to different stimuli, what they were capable of healing or repairing, as he called it, and their limitations.

Not many beings would find that talk stimulating. But Cyra was a medic, and it warmed her to her core. Her pussy relinquished its severe hold on his shaft. Her wanting returned, amplifying until it was a roar in her ears, in her soul.

“You can move, medic.” She squeezed his hips with her thighs.

“Frag, yes.” He pulled back to his tip, paused for a heartbeat and thrust forward.

She gasped and gripped his shoulders.

He pulled back, paused, thrust forward, pulled back, paused, thrust forward. His rhythm was steady, too steady.

She bucked against him.

Her cyborg medic growled and took her harder, faster. But it wasn’t hard or fast enough for Cyra. She smacked her heels against his clenched ass cheeks.

Energy flashed in his eyes.

And all chaos broke loose.

Cure pounded into her again and again and again. Their bodies crashed together and fell apart. Heat spread from all points of contact. Her ass smacked against the surface of the examination support.

“Yes.” She panted. Her arms and legs quivered with wanting. “Yes.” She loved the ferocity of his fucking. It drove all thoughts other than him and her and them from her often too-active brain. “Yes.”

“Yes.” Her cyborg’s voice meshed with hers. “Yes.”

He ravished her. She ravished him right back, meeting him halfway.

They worked together, as equals, battling for their satisfaction.

That fulfillment loomed in front of them. She saw it in his handsome countenance, felt it in his rough touch, heard it in his grunts. Her male had progressed past words.

And Fates, that stimulated her. A band of need wrapped so tightly around her chest she struggled to breathe. Her form shook more and more.

She tried to stave off release, but she was losing that battle. “Close.” She warned him.

Cure’s gaze met hers. The gleam in his eyes told her she wouldn’t be in sensual limbo for much longer.

She braced herself.

He reached between them with one hand and rested the tip of his middle finger over her clit.

Cyra felt that connection. Everywhere. She tightened her grip on her hands.

Her cyborg medic drove fully into her. As his base slapped against her pussy lips, he tapped her clit. Rapidly. Faster than was humanly possible.

Euphoria blasted her from all directions. She screamed, losing her clutch on reality. It was so good, so intense. She clenched his shaft with her intimate walls.

“Mine.” He roared that claim. His eyes went black. All of the light was extinguished in a heartbeat. Hard, hot, jets of cum propelled from his tip and hit her inner flesh.

Everything inside her fizzed. Everywhere. All at once. More pleasure washed over her. She constricted around him again.

He pushed deeper and transferred more of his essence to her.

The cycle repeated once more, twice more, and then she lost count. Her mind dissolved. The elation was too much, too right. She couldn’t.

But then it eased and she could. She sagged against the surface of the examination support.

Cure collapsed on top of her.

The air whooshed out of her form. She couldn’t retrieve it.

“Heavy.” She pushed at his chest.

“Sorry.” He braced himself upward.

And she could breathe again.

“Tunkeil was right. You’re a big male.” Cyra joked. She drifted her fingertips over his pecs.

His abs rippled.

Her cyborg was also an extremely fit male.

Her lips curled into a pleased smile.

Moments passed.

She watched with fascination as the light in Cure’s eyes returned.

The bubbling in her body, however, didn’t fade. Not like it had done after his kisses. It remained with her. As did her link to her male.

And there was a peacefulness in her form, a quiet.

At first, Cyra didn’t know what it was.

Then she realized…

The pain was gone. The pressure in the back of her neck had dissipated.

She suspected if she scanned herself, she wouldn’t find any tumors.

Fates. She stared up at Cure. He hadn’t overstated the healing powers of his nanocybotics.

Fucking him had cured her.