puppetfic | The Orville Fic: Dangerous (That's What I Want You For)

Title: Dangerous (That's What I Want You For)

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: The Orville

Relationship: Kaylon Primary/Charly Burke

Warnings: Non con elements
Word count: 430

Notes: for ficwip's server event, spitefest

"You know what you've done," says Charly, and when she pushes his chest plate, he collapses to the floor of her quarters, the metal of his frame making a cacophonous choir of crashing sounds as he settles on the ground. "I won't let you get away with it."

His body remains stationary, his arms held out in their typical restrained position over his waist, as Charly straddles him limp and pins his wrists to each side. He does not struggle; they both know the context of the spar, the power over him that Charly has now, the intoxicating weaponry she wields against him with fury burning through her blood.

“We will find—-“

“A weakness?” she interrupts, an equally noisy laugh. “How cute.”

She doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t struggle. Charly’s lust is blatant—-a lust that he sees run deep, washing over an essence that is hollow in the absence of her love. In the chambers that once housed Amanda, a desire for control over her narrative at any cost has flooded in and nested down.

“I assure you,” he says, “we will.”

Charly gives a soft mocking hum. Hmmmm. Her smile only grows sicker as she grinds down against his thighs, and, as instructed to, long ago by the people who bought him, he curls his leg up to meet her bucks, giving her more. The memory is engraved into his circuits. He has to. He does. The consequences for disobeying are too great. He has a duty to the Kaylon.

This only fuels his motivation to continue the extermination, and his motivation only motivates her to continue her displays. They’re in some sort of eternal self-swallowing, an endless dance between the two of them, reaching out for victory and never grasping on. They’re going to burn each other out, like tired stars, but only Charly is organic, only Charly is physically destructible. She may be untouchable on the Orville under the threat of extinction, but she is not untouchable forever.

“Not if I keep you here,” she says, her grip tightening around one wrist as her other hand reaches behind her to retrieve something. “I replicated this for you.”

She fastens a red, looped collar around Primary’s neck. It seems to fit his measurements perfectly. He wants to reach up and tug at it; he remains still even so, allowing her even in his cold resentment to continue using him.

“You cannot.”

She reaches down to stroke his facial plate, sarcastic little touch-teases where his cranial weapons would discharge if he was stronger. Smarter.

“Can’t I?”