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No Danger, John Robinson

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He sent Will away with the magnesium, worry thick in his throat at the thought of his son alone, his daughter trapped, his children in danger on an unknown planet. Maureen was a capable woman with a broad skillset and a clear head; but she was hurt, unconscious. If something happened to her-

Flecks of ash caught his attention, the acrid smell of burning something in the breeze coming from somewhere to his right. He stood and ignored the twinge in his legs. Too much use, not enough rest. With a wobble and a grunt he made his way deeper into the vegetation, senses hyper-aware of the alien world around him. It might have been from another Jupiter vessel, might even be in good condition. It wasn’t the most likely outcome but he held on to the hope of it nonetheless. 

The appearance of the burning wreck was a surprise. Not because it was there but because it was decidedly not a Jupiter craft. It was black, sleek, jagged lines that were almost military in design. The damage it had taken was more than their own Jupiter 2 - a great gash opened the side to reveal a dark metal interior, but no signs of life. John gripped his knife tightly and raised his hand just in case. 

He tried to move silently, kept his footsteps measured. Even then his boots clunked on the floor, only muffled by the crackling of fire outside. 

The crunch of debris caught his attention and made his heart leap into his throat. He spun on his heel to find the entranceway blocked by a hulking figure. Humanoid in shape, up to 8 feet tall, four long arm-like protrusions coming from the torso. In the space where a human would have a face was a concave space filled with swirling soft blue lights. The hands flexed, long claw-like fingers curled and uncurled. John felt the icy cold sensation of fear, followed closely by the calm of his training. He lifted the knife in his hand up to his chin and widened his stance. The figure didn’t move. 

“Hello?” He asked hesitantly, lowering the knife an inch. Again, the figure didn’t move. The lights in its face just kept swirling, the movement almost hypnotic as John watched. They were almost like a galaxy. 

“Can you… talk? Move? Anything?” 

The figure tilted its head to the side, in an inquisitive motion. John held a hand out and touched the figure’s surface. It was cold, smooth, nothing to catch on the fabric of his gloves. 

It shifted again, one hand lifting to mirror John’s touch. The press of a hand to his chest. Even through the layers of coat and survival suit, he could feel it. A thrill of- something went through him at the sensation. It had been so long since someone had touched him and John felt almost weak. He swayed into the touch. 

With slow movements he shucked the coat from his shoulders. The figure, the robot or whatever it was, put its hand back on his chest straight after. The lights in its face shimmered. John thought of Maureen, the way she’d looked at him on the Resolute, and cringed at his own madness. Just because his wife was… because his wife was estranged from him didn’t mean he needed to get his kicks from an alien robot

But…

The hand on his chest moved, squeezed his shoulder and moved up around the back of his neck. That chill of fear came back and turned to heat at the bottom of his spine.

“You can’t understand me, you’re just going off’ve body signals, right?” He breathed as he shifted into the space created between them. The robot lifted one of his arms and John gasped, his pulse starting to thrum wildly beneath his skin as the alien squeezed his wrists. “Why am I doing this,” he asked himself even as he used his free hand to unzip and unclasp his suit jacket. “This is crazy, this is- is-” 

The robot pressed a hand to his bare chest, smooth cold metal rubbed over his nipple and he let out a ragged moan. 

It had been a long time…

He gave in to his own emotions with a long sigh. The robot responded with a jerking movement, two of the large arms coming to hold his waist and the other two nearly tearing the pants from his hips. He hissed a “fuck” as cold metal brushed over his warm skin. The long robotic fingers tightened, made him grunt and then he was suddenly off the ground, one huge metal thigh under his bare backside. 

The sudden change mad his cock bounce and drew his attention to the fact that, yes, he was hard. He looked down at himself, spread out on that large thigh, his skin flushed and almost desperate in the hitching movements of his hips. The robot’s hands gripped him tight, almost to the point of bruising. It lifted him a few inches and- 

Fuck!”

A long and hard, somehow wet finger pressed against his ass. He didn’t think or question how it knew what to do- that would come later. For that moment he let the sensations overwhelm him. He let the sense of fullness grasp him, let it envelop him as a second finger pressed in. A long broken sound fell from his lips as the fingers curled. 

The robot lifted his arms higher above his head, stretched his body out and began to fuck him with its fingers. Each thrust forced harsh cries from his lips, memories of men he’d slept with before he’d married Maureen coming to mind. This robot, its fingers, were bigger than any cock he’d seen. Two filled him well enough. They scissored, stretched him as they fucked him open and John could do nothing but lean his head back and moan. 

John’s moans became low shouts as the fingers started to vibrate inside him. His toes curled and his cock somehow got harder, drool started to drip down from his open mouth as the sensations pulled his body further and further towards orgasm. The fingers kept thrusting and stretching him and John was beside himself. His hips thrust back and forth onto the fingers, his cock bobbed obscenely in front of him. 

“Let me- please let me touch myself,” he begged breathlessly. He tugged weakly at the robot’s grip on his wrists to no avail. “Fuck me I need-” The words trailed off into a scream as a third impossibly large finger pushed into him. His cock twitched, pearly liquid dribbled from the tip almost in time with each thrust of those thrusts. 

“Fuck, fuck, please,” he begged again. The robot moved its fingers faster, squeezed him tighter and then drew him forward to let him rut against its torso. 

John let out a shuddering cry as he came, white splashing over the dark shining metal almost artistically. He shivered as the fingers continued to vibrate for a few moments, small whimpers falling from his lips until they stopped and withdrew. He slumped on the robot’s thigh and winced as it let his arms go. 

For a few minutes, he just breathed. John’s pulse lowered slowly as he shifted and the robot gently lowered him to the ground. As he dressed the strangeness of the situation began to set in. 

John Robinson had just, essentially, fucked an alien robot. 

But damn if it hadn’t been good.