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He knew it was wrong.
He’d spent all night telling himself that he shouldn’t feel this way, that he needed to burn these feelings from his soul.
And then he’d woken up this morning and thought of her.
The first word on his lips was her name.
When he closed his eyes he saw her face. He felt her hand in his. Her hips under his fingers. He imagined the grip around his shaft was hers.
He tasted her on his tongue.
And that was where his fantasy collapsed.
He could only imagine so much.
Stretch the bounds of his fantasies so far.
He could only run on the sheer force of his need for so long before he had to face reality. Before he had to make a choice. Before he took a leap of faith.
“Dev. Dev. Commander.”
That last word pulled him into the moment. The reprimand demanded to be heard. Her sharp tone went straight to his dick.
“Primus, sir,” he said, standing at attention.
She moved to stand in front of him and he stood just a little bit straighter. His back twinged but he devoured that slice of pain, swallowing it, hiding it, refusing to let her see him at his weakest.
Because he was so weak for her.
“Where is your head today commander?” she asked.
Between your thighs he wanted to say, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.
Could he?
“It’s my arm, Primus,” he said, not needing to lift his bionic appendage, but doing it anyway. As if he needed to remind her and himself that he wasn’t who he’d been.
Her face softened, her mouth lifting into a bright smile, eyes dancing in the light. It was like torture. Not because he didn’t want to seem weak, but because his own mood was so attuned to hers. The corner of her mouth turned down and his abdomen clenched. She reached for him and he sucked in a sharp breath. Her fingers grazed the place where his arm and the tech met, and his dick throbbed in his armor.
“Is it giving you trouble?” she asked.
His dick jumped. Yes, he thought. Every time he was near her, his arousal was a problem that he just barely managed to control.
“No, sir,” he lied. His voice was thin, dry, needy. “It’s just that sometimes I can feel it. Sometimes,” he took a deep breath, “I know it’s there and it’s not supposed to be.”
Her eyes lift to his and darken with worry.
“Sometimes I remember that I’m a freak.” He admits even though he’d promised to never say these words aloud.
She took a slow, steady breath. “Commander?”
“Primus?”
“Do you believe that I make mistakes?”
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration and pain. Doubting her cause him pain. “No, sir,” he said emphatically, a harsh whisper full of too much emotion.
“Do you believe then that you are a mistake?”
His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. He swallowed and looked away. His eyes settled on a nondescript path of the far wall, over Jayna-Zod’s head even though he knew that it was disrespectful. Under normal circumstances, Dev would never disrespect Jayna. In fact, he lived his entire life with the singular, determined goal of making his Primus proud of him.
No, Dev wanted Jayna to be proud of him because Dev wanted Jayna to love him. He forced himself to meet her eyes again. “Do you believe that I am a mistake, Primus?” His voice was strong but if someone listened closely, Dev thought they might hear the slight wavering at the edge of his breath, the only sign of his uncertainty.
He wanted Jayna to listen closely just as much as he wanted anything but that.
He could see by the flattening of her mouth that she had, however, heard it. She’d heard him. His heart tried to soar and plummet all at the same time.
Jayna sighed. Her hand moved over his shoulder in a featherlight touch. Her fingertips grazed his neck, glanced his jaw, and then finally her palm cupped his cheek. “Commander.” Her whisper was too soft. Too intimate. The stuff of his dreams.
He couldn’t stop himself. He closed his eyes, sighed, and pressed his cheek against her palm. “Primus,” he whispered back, reverently.
Her thumb stroked his cheek, brushed the corner of his mouth and then skated over his bottom lip.
He groaned. “Primus.” This time her title was a plea. For mercy or a command. Maybe both.
“I do not make mistakes,” she said. “You are not a mistake.” This was her command.
“Yes,” he whispered in relief.
“You,” she continued and he imagined that he heard a softness to her voice that he’d never detected before. “You are a beautiful soldier.”
He shook his head and pulled reluctantly from her grasp. “I’m a weapon,” he countered, closing his eyes, desperate not to be seen. “I am a machine.”
“Commander.” Her voice was steel and it brooked no challenge. Dev froze. He’d spent years under her command and following her orders was as natural as breathing. Doing as Jayna-Zod commanded was as comfortable as opening his eyes in the morning and he had never felt so safe.
“Primus?”
“You are not a weapon.”
He started, shaking his head more forcefully.
“But,” she said and he chanced to turn and look at her face.
“But?” he winced at the desperation in his own voice but Jayna didn’t, and so why should he, he wondered.
“But if you are a weapon, then you are my weapon.”
He sucked in a sharp breath.
“Whatever you are, you are mine.”
Dev shivered. He clamped his lips shut and swallowed slowly. “Yours,” he said, smiling at the word on his lips. “Yes. I am yours.”
Her thumb brushed over his mouth. Her eyes followed the movement.
He parted his lips.
Her thumb moved toward the opening. “Mine,” she whispered absentmindedly.
“Yours,” he said and then his tongue tasted her skin.