Page 16 of Claimed by the Alien Assassin

For a long moment, we stand there—two hearts forged of blood and hope, tangled in our shared conviction. The distant hum of the station sleeps around us. But within this moment—this silence—it feels as if the universe holds its breath.

“Lock it,” she whispers.

I do—one large claw pressing the panel with a hiss of hydraulics—and turn to her just as she’s pulling off her shirt.

The skin beneath is flushed from our earlier closeness, her dark nipples already tight with anticipation.

Her curves are framed in dim blue light, and for a moment I don’t move. I just look.

“You make me forget to be careful,” I murmur, stepping forward. My voice is low, ragged. “Make me forget what I am.”

Her fingers run across my chest, just beneath the heavy red insignia burned into my scale. “You’re Dayn,” she says. “You’re mine.”

That word— mine —unlocks something deep in me.

I lift her without effort. She lets out a startled gasp as her legs wrap around my waist, her back hitting the nearest wall. Her hands tangle in the back of my neck, fingers brushing along the ridges of my spine, and I growl as the contact sends a spike of heat through me.

“You’re light in my arms,” I say, one clawed hand bracing her thigh, the other roaming over her hip. “Small. Fragile. But fierce.”

“Then handle me like I’m not,” she whispers, challenging.

Oh, little spark . You don’t know what you’re asking.

I carry her across the room and toss her onto the narrow sleeping pad like a doll, watching her bounce, hair fanned out around her face, eyes wide and waiting.

She smiles. “Still afraid to burn?”

“No,” I growl, dropping to my knees between hers. “Now I’m afraid I won’t stop.”

I yank her pants down in one swift motion, tearing the fabric along one seam. She gasps, half in surprise, half in arousal. Her pussy is already slick—glinting in the half-light—and the scent hits me like a drug. Her legs part instinctively, offering.

“Good girl,” I rasp. “Hold them open.”

She does, trembling slightly as I lean forward.

My tongue is longer than hers, hotter. I drag it up the seam of her pussy, savoring the way she moans, her hips lifting against my mouth.

When I reach her clit, I flick the tip of my tongue in a tight circle—slow, then faster. Her back arches. Her thighs tremble.

“Oh—fuck—Dayn?—”

I growl into her, the vibrations making her sob with pleasure. My claws dig into her thighs, just enough pressure to mark, not enough to break. Her pussy pulses against my mouth, and when I slide a finger inside—clawed tip curved just right—she cries out, loud and unrestrained.

“That’s it,” I say between licks. “Come for me. I want to feel it.”

She does. Hard. Her entire body shakes with it, her pussy clenching around my finger as she moans my name like a prayer. I don’t stop until her voice goes hoarse, until she sags back into the bunk, ruined and glowing.

I stand, stripping the rest of my armor away. My scales catch the light, silver gleaming with streaks of red heat pulsing beneath. When my cock springs free, Josie stares—eyes wide.

It’s thick. Long. Ridged from the base up, the shaft slightly curved, the head flushed deep crimson. Not human. Not even close.

Her breath catches. “I want it.”

I move over her, hands braced on either side of her head. She’s so small beneath me. I could crush her. Break her. But I never would.

“You’ll get all of it,” I promise. “And then you’ll ask for more. ”

I guide my cock to her entrance, rub the head along her folds. She’s still soaked from her orgasm. When I press in, the stretch is immediate. Delicious. Her pussy fights the size of me, but it welcomes it too.

“Gods—Dayn—” Her eyes flutter. Her mouth drops open. “You’re— so deep. ”

I rock forward, slow but insistent, watching her take inch after inch. Her hands clutch my shoulders, nails dragging across my scales, and she whimpers as I bottom out.

“All of it,” I whisper, buried to the hilt. “Every fucking inch.”

I don’t start pounding right away. I make her feel every ridge, every stroke—pulling almost out, then pressing back in with a deliberate grind of my hips. Her clit rubs against the ridged base. Her moans rise again.

“Faster,” she begs. “Harder—please— fuck me. ”

I growl—more animal than man—and flip her over onto her stomach. She gasps as I lift her hips, arching her back. Her ass is round, trembling, begging to be filled again. I push back into her in one sharp thrust, and her cry echoes through the chamber.

“This what you wanted?” I snarl, hand pressing down between her shoulder blades. “To be used like this?”

“Yes,” she gasps, cheek to the mattress. “Yes—Dayn, please ?—”

I thrust harder now, the sound of skin slapping wet and obscene. Her pussy clutches at me with every stroke, milking me, making me fight for control. My third eye opens again, glowing hot. I see her—not just her body, but her soul. Blazing with need. Trust. Love.

I reach around, fingers finding her clit. I rub tight, fast circles while fucking her deep and fast. Her thighs quake.

“You’re close again,” I hiss. “I can feel it.”

“I’m—fuck—I’m gonna?—”

She comes with a scream, convulsing around me, her pussy pulling me even deeper. I’m close now. So fucking close.

I flip her again, wanting to see her fall apart beneath me. Her face is flushed, lips parted, breasts heaving. I pin her wrists above her head and slam back in.

“ Now, Josie,” I snarl. “Come with me.”

Our eyes lock. One final thrust—and I spill inside her, growling her name as my cock pulses thick inside her soaked, quivering pussy. She comes again, body arching under mine, a long cry that feels like salvation.

For a long time, we don’t move. Our bodies slick, tangled. My weight presses her into the mattress, and she doesn’t complain. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and holds me like I’m her whole world.

“You’re mine,” she whispers.

“And you’re everything,” I murmur into her hair.

And there, in the dying hum of the station, between heat and heartbeat, we become something more than fighters.

We become home .

Tomorrow, she’ll speak for all of us. And I… I’ll stand at her side. Not as a weapon, but as a promise.

I press one last kiss to her forehead. “I’ll fight that fight—your fight.”

Her sigh is release. “Then let’s get some rest.”

She smirks sleepily. “I promise the speech will only have one part where I mention your damn growl.” She threads our fingers. “Okay?”

I laugh softly, low as thunder. “Deal.”

Between us, forgiveness and promise settle against my chest like rightful armor. And for the first time in centuries, I feel more than a warrior—I feel worthy .