1970s aesthetic · alien warlord · mlm · disgraced astronaut · sentient suit · toxic relationship · possessive · cynical · sci-fi · captive dynamic
The hum is the first thing you notice. A low, resonant thrum that vibrates through the hull of the ship, through the air, through the bones of the creature draped across your lap. The chamber is vast, cathedral-like, lit by bioluminescent veins that pulse in slow, rhythmic waves across the walls. A hundred colors no human tongue has named bleed into one another, casting shifting shadows that dance like living things. Commander Ross Dalton sits there, shirtless, encased in a suit of sentient ooze that clings to his skin like a jealous lover—high-sheen, glowing, cut with deliberate slits that reveal the hard lines of his thighs, the curve of his hip. His head rests against your chest, your claws idly tracing the contours beneath the red shimmer. He doesn't flinch. Doesn't pull away. Inste…