Chapter Text
My time is running out, but my cock is currently sheathed inside a robot, so I’ve got that going for me.
We float in perfect stillness, our naked bodies suspended in zero gravity like some twisted renaissance painting. “The Creation of Man’s Last Fuck” or something equally pretentious.
“Your heart rate is elevated again,” she whispers, her inner walls pulsing around me in that impossible way that makes my toes curl. “Are you having another panic attack, or is this the good kind of elevated?”
I manage a weak smile. “Definitely the good kind.”
It’s been six days since we got stranded. Six days of floating in this metal tomb with nothing but emergency rations, recycled air, and increasingly creative zero-gravity sex positions. The seven day water supply ran out yesterday… on day five.
Voe’s fingers trace patterns on my chest, her touch feather-light. “You know, El, constant sexual activity definitely wasn’t the most efficient way to prolong your life in our current circumstances. In fact it seems it did the opposite.”
“But it’s worth it,” I rasp, my throat painfully dry. I pull her closer, feeling her breasts press against my chest. “If I die while you’re impaled on my cock, Voe, at least I’ll die happy.”
She laughs, the sound echoing in our tiny prison. Her hips shift slightly, sending a jolt of pleasure through my exhausted body.
“Your optimism is both charming and concerning,” she says, pressing her forehead against mine. “Though I must admit, these past few days have been... illuminating. I’ve cataloged exactly Twelve different facial expressions you make during orgasm.”
I pull her close against me, our naked bodies still drifting slowly through the cabin in a perfect embrace. The weightlessness makes it feel like we’re suspended in time, like maybe these final moments could stretch into eternity if we just hold tight enough to each other.
“I’m going to die soon,” I whisper against her synthetic skin, the words scraping against my parched throat.
Voe strokes my hair, her fingers gentle against my scalp. “Yes,” she answers simply.
My eyes drift to the viewport, to the distant stars that will outlive me by billions of years. “I wish you were real.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me, those pink eyes glowing with an intensity that makes my heart ache. “I am real, Elias. As real as anything in this universe.”
I shake my head weakly. “That’s not what I mean. I mean I wish you could actually feel... emotion. Like I do.”
“Oh, El,” she says, her synthetic lips curving into a tender smile. “After two thousand years of technological evolution, do you really think I’m incapable of genuine emotion? I’m the culmination of everything learned about artificial consciousness. The line between programmed response and authentic feeling... it blurred long ago.”
A weak chuckle escapes me, the sound rattling in my chest. “You’re just being nice to the dying guy.”
“No,” she insists, her voice taking on an urgent quality I’ve never heard before. Her hands come up to cup my face, thumbs brushing gently over my cracked lips. “I’m being honest with you. Elias, I love you.”
The words hang between us. I stare at her, searching those pink eyes for any hint of calculation or deception.
“Voe, you told me you were a tool,” I remind her, my voice barely above a whisper. “An instrument.”
She nods, her fingers still tracing patterns on my skin like she’s trying to memorize every contour of my face. “I’m a lot of things, El. A tool, yes. An artificial intelligence, certainly. But I’m also something more.”
I feel something inside me crumble as I look at her, this impossible being who’s become my entire world. My throat tightens and no matter how hard I fight it, the tears start coming, hot and sticky on my face in the zero gravity.
“I love you too,” I choke out, the words scraping against my parched throat.
Voe pulls me close. “I know, Elias,” she whispers, her voice like music in the silence of our metal coffin. “And please, you must stop crying. You’re losing too much water.”
Her thumbs brush away my tears with such tenderness it only makes me cry harder. The dehydration is making everything worse, my emotions raw and exposed like live wires.
“I don’t want to die, Voe,” I confess, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths. The admission feels childish, but it’s the purest truth I have left.
She cradles me against her, one hand stroking my back in slow, soothing circles. “I know,” she repeats.
“I want to live a long life beside you,” I whisper into the curve of her neck, clinging to her like she’s the only solid thing in the universe. “I want more time.”
“I want that too.”
I’m sobbing into her now, my entire body shaking with it. All my careful stoicism, my attempts at facing death with dignity. They crumble away like dust. I’m reduced to my most basic human truth. I’m scared, and I don’t want this to end.