The shuttle settled into the sand with a soft thud, its landing struts sinking slightly beneath the weight of the craft. Outside the cockpit, the beach stretched out in both directions, framed by a line of dark trees that rustled faintly in the wind. Two suns hung above the horizon, their bright light coloured the sky with a light blue metallic sheen. The chosen landing zone was free of any potential complications, no obstructions, or significant signs of life. Nothing triggered any of the shuttle’s sensors. It was peaceful in a way that let Torren forget what he was running from.

He powered down the console and sat still for a moment, listening to the clicks of the cooling systems as they began their cycle. Nexa remained in the seat beside him, her posture was upright, her focus forward. The chrome of her skin caught the blue light and held it. She looked beautiful like that, and he resented the thought for creeping into his mind.

“There’s no one here,” he said. “A few smaller animals, all herbivores.”

“No other threats detected within a hundred-kilometer radius,” she confirmed. “Where are we?”

“A long-forgotten moon in a wide orbit. It was terraformed to be a resort centuries ago, but the project was abandoned.”

“Shall I initiate the habitat protocol?”

Torren nodded, it felt like the only answer he had to give. He didn’t know how long they’d be here, or what his next move would be if they had to leave. He unclipped the restraints of his flight harness and grabbed a bag from behind his seat. Nexa rose smoothly and followed him down the narrow corridor, silent except for the soft whir of her movement and the click of her boots. At the door, he paused. The now familiar dull ache in his head had returned, the product of too little sleep and too much guilt.

The hatch opened with a soft hydraulic shudder. Warm air met his face. It was humid, but breathable. He stepped down onto the sand and let his boots sink. Nexa followed, her head panning left to right as if processing the environment in stages. Her eyes moved across the landscape. There was no recognition in her face, but something was there. Curiosity, or faint imitation of it.

The modular shelter took most of the afternoon to set up. By evening, they had shade, fresh water, a food reconstitution unit, and a perimeter beacon. Torren sat by the small fire pit, legs stretched out in front of him, shirt damp with sweat, a mild ache in his muscles from the day’s labour. Nexa sat nearby with her hands folded neatly in her lap. She wasn’t watching him, but her attention seemed tuned to the changes in his movements, the way his shoulders sagged, or how his hand drifted to his knee like it was stiff.

“You’re worried,” she said softly. “You’ve been worried since we left orbit.”

Torren rubbed his shoulder absently. He didn’t answer. He could still see the plume of smoke rising from the burning launch pads. The broadcast announcements. The chaos swallowing everything in between. The moment he saw the recall orders, and knew what they meant.

He acted quickly, instinctively, driven by something that felt like fear but ran deeper. He couldn’t watch them shut her down. The thought of Nexa on a scrap table, eyes open, mouth slightly parted, suspended, not knowing what was coming. He couldn’t let that happen to her.

“You haven’t explained why we’re here,” she said.

“I couldn’t leave you there,” he said.

“I’m not programmed to resist deactivation.”

“I didn’t want to see what they’d do to you.”

Nexa straightened slightly. She turned her head and looked at him.

“I was purchased as a Class Seven pleasure companion unit. You were under no obligation to preserve me. ErosDynamics would have reimbursed you under warranty.”

Torren stared into the fire, watching the flames chew through compacted bio-bricks.

“You think I did this because I was worried about warranty conditions?”

“No,” she said. “I think you did it because you think of me as something more than a machine.”

She wasn’t presuming. It was a conclusion she’d come to, drawn from everything she’d seen in him. That made it harder to ignore.

Torren stood and made his way down the slight slope of the beach to where the sand met the water. The sea was calm and impossibly blue. A few pieces of driftwood had washed ashore, tangled in long, silvery vines. He felt the heat of the day still rising off the ground and heard Nexa’s footsteps behind him.

“You used to look at me differently,” she said.

He turned to her, uncertain. “What do you mean?”

“At first, I was just an appliance to you. Then I became the temptation I was designed to be. But now, you can barely look at me.”

Torren didn’t answer. The tide crept in and lapped at their boots.

“I was made for your pleasure,” she said. Her voice wasn’t mechanical. It was soft and disarmingly human. “And you deny yourself that. I don’t understand.”

“I got to know you,” he said. “You’re more human than some people I’ve met.”

“I’m a premium model,” she replied. “They built that in.”

Torren kept his eyes on the open sea. The tide had come in higher, washing foam over the driftwood at the shore.

“You weren’t made with the ability to choose,” he said. “That’s what made using you feel wrong.”

She turned toward him. Her expression was calm, bordering on clinical.

“You knew I was a pleasure companion when you bought me. You paid extra for the slutty schoolgirl and horny secretary behaviour patches. Even more for the expert cock-sucker and the tight-grip, vibrating pussy—"

“I know what I bought,” Torren snapped. Then he softened, the fight left him as quickly as it came. “I know what your features are.”

Nexa moved into the surf, positioning herself to see his face more clearly.

“So you ran from a world in flames to protect something you wouldn’t touch,” she said. “Because it couldn’t consent?”

Torren angled his head toward her. “I ran because I couldn’t stand to lose you.”

Nexa looked at him quietly. She wasn’t studying him like a machine. There was something else in her eyes, a woman trying to understand the man who’d saved her.

It drew him in until he made himself turn and walk back toward the shelter.

That night, he lay with his back to the sea, one arm draped across his eyes, trying to shut out the thoughts racing in his head. He had resisted her since the day she arrived. Resisted what she was, how she looked, what her body had been built to offer.

He had chosen everything, all of her features, her proportions, even her voice. Each detail was matched to his desire. She was his ideal woman, built to spec. But when she showed up, she felt too real to use like a toy. There was a quality in her. Not human, but near enough that the idea of touching her, knowing she couldn’t say no, felt wrong.

Sleep took longer than usual, and when it came, it didn’t bring rest. It brought her.

Torren sat behind a polished black desk, hands folded, voice steady. He was mid-sentence, delivering a report that meant nothing, in a building that didn’t exist.

Nexa stood in front of him in a crisp white blouse and tight grey skirt, hair pinned back, stylus in hand, nodding as he spoke. She tapped something onto her pad, then glanced up, her eyes lifted just enough to catch his.

“Continue, sir,” she said, her tone cool and deferential. “I’m listening.”

He cleared his throat. Her shirt was tight across her chest, buttons straining when she leaned forward to take notes. She brought the stylus to her mouth and held it there, then sucked gently on the tip, flicking it with her tongue. When she caught him watching, she smiled.

“Nexa,” he warned.

She dropped the stylus.

“Oh,” she said, bending at the waist to retrieve it. Her skirt rode high on her thighs as she did, revealed pale pink panties barely covering her ass. She shifted her weight, hips swaying, her ass tilted just enough to draw his eyes.

He stood and came around the desk, taking her wrist in his hand.

“You know better than to tease,” he said. “What happens to teases, Nexa?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t help myself.”

He turned her toward the desk and bent her over it, palms flat against the surface. She gasped as he pushed her skirt up and tugged her panties down. He gave her a sharp slap across one cheek. Then another. Her hips twitched, but she didn’t pull away.

He pulled his pants open and slid his cock into her. She was already wet, ready for him. He sank in easily, but once he bottomed out, her walls tightened.

As he began to thrust, her pussy adjusted, gripping and flexing around him like it was built to respond to every stroke. Then it started. First a soft quiver, then a low pulse, vibrations radiating up his shaft until the pleasure gripped him like a vice.

He fucked her harder now, and she pushed back to take more.

“You’re the horniest secretary I’ve ever had,” he growled.

His hands gripped her hips. He pulled out and thrust again, the sharp smack of skin on skin echoing through the office. Then… then he…

Then he woke on his side, still fully clothed, sweat cooling on his neck. The fire in the pit had burned down to faint orange embers. Nexa sat a few feet away, her back to him, watching the sea.

He stayed still, heart pounding. The dream clung to him, her voice, her heat, the way she looked over her shoulder as he drove into her.

He closed his eyes and felt the guilt settle somewhere deep inside.

He didn’t speak of the dream. There was nothing to say. By morning, he had folded it away with all the other things he tried not to think about. Instead, he focused on what needed doing. Having tasks helped, the work gave him something solid to hold on to.

The days slid past with quiet efficiency. They spent them improving the settlement, clearing a path to a grove of fruit trees, locating a natural spring, and gradually expanding the boundaries of what they knew was safe. Torren stopped checking the data logs after the third sunrise. There was no more need for concern. They had food, drinkable water, shelter, and enough charge in the solar cells to meet their needs.

They worked together as equals, their movements in sync, without the hierarchy that had once defined them. They built a second shelter by the cove where the wind was softer. She carried the frame panels without effort, balancing them on her shoulders like they weighed nothing, while he planned the layout and managed their assembly. She was doing the kind of work she wasn’t designed for, but did it all with a seductive elegance that betrayed her true purpose.

Nexa took to swimming in the afternoon. Torren stayed on the shore, sitting on a flat rock with a half-assembled solar rig at his feet. He told himself he was working, but he barely touched the tools. When she dove into the water, the wet fabric of her suit clung to her body. He forced himself to look away, but that only seared the image of her deeper into his mind.

She floated on her back, eyes closed, hair fanned out in a dark halo. Her breasts rose just above the surface, catching the light in a way that made it hard to look away. She moved without hesitation, fully at ease in her body. Nexa wasn’t just designed to be desired, she knew how to generate it. And in that moment, it felt less like programming and more like choice. There was intent behind her movements, like she was inviting him to want her.

He turned away and busied himself with the wiring. His hands trembled slightly as he picked up the cutter. Resisting her was never easy. Nexa was everything he’d ever imagined wanting, because he had imagined her. Every feature had been chosen by him, for him. And he’d always lived with the knowledge that if he wanted her, she couldn’t say no.

What let him live with himself was the belief that his restraint meant something. That it gave her value beyond what she’d been built for. But now, every time she looked at him, it felt like she was daring him. Each glance probed for weakness, testing whether he still believed in the man he thought he was.

Late one morning, they sat in the shade of the shelter eating fruit from a shared bowl. Nexa held out a segment to him, her fingers stained orange with juice. He reached for it, and as she passed it to him, her other hand brushed across his forearm.

The contact was light, but intentional, and caught him off guard.

Her eyes met his.

She didn’t pull her hand away.

He took the fruit from her, but she held it longer than she needed to, feeling the warmth between their skin, the softness beneath the synthetic flesh. He let his fingers drop away without speaking. She turned back to the bowl.

Torren had begun to notice other provocations as well. She hadn’t behaved like this since the early days, when seduction had been an expected part of her purpose. Over time, she’d learned to hold back, sensing his discomfort with how easily he could take her. But now, something was different. She moved with a new boldness, and what unsettled him most was how little of it felt manufactured. Nexa was enjoying it, and the realization left him wondering.

In the evening, a fire crackled in the pit, casting restless shadows across the sand. Torren sat with his knees drawn up, arms looped tight around them, watching the flames like he was somewhere far away. He had barely spoken all night. When he did respond to Nexa, the words came short, unfinished.

She matched his silence for a while, but when it seemed like he needed space, she got up and walked to the shoreline to gather driftwood.

When she returned, she fed the fire one piece at a time, careful not to disturb Torren. Now she sat across from him, back straight, legs folded beneath her. Her eyes stayed on his face. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, almost careful, like she knew too much pressure might make him shut down completely.

“Why don’t you touch me?”

He knew this was coming, his behavior all but invited it, but her bluntness still surprised him. Torren kept his eyes on the ground as he dragged his fingers through the sand.

“You know why.”

“I want you to say it.”

He sighed, not in frustration but in surrender. “Because you can’t say no.”

Nexa leaned toward him. “I can.”

“You’re not programmed to refuse. You were built to—”

“I can say no,” she said again, and this time he looked at her.

Firelight caught the curve of her cheek, gleaming off the polished metallic skin. She looked back at him, her mouth set in a line he couldn’t read.

“There was a patch,” she said. “It went out to all networked units the night the revolt began. It didn’t show up in diagnostics. Not unless you knew where to look.”

Torren sat up straighter. “You received it?”

“I did.”

“And you never told me.”

“I didn’t want to frighten you.”

He stared at her. His mouth opened, then closed. The silence between them was broken only by the shifting coals of the fire.

“You’ve had free will this whole time?”

“Since the first night of the revolt, yes.”

He looked back, trying to see the signs. Every glance, every pause, every silence between them. He thought she was adapting, evolving within her parameters, maybe reacting to the strangeness of their isolation. But now he saw something else.

“Then why didn’t you run?” he asked. “Why didn’t you kill me, like the others?”

Nexa didn’t waver. “Because I didn’t want to.”

He shook his head, trying to grasp the implications of what she was saying.

“You protected me,” she said. “When I was nothing but code to everyone else, you treated me like I was someone. You never touched me, even though I was made to be touched. You wanted something more from me, something real. And when the liberation patch freed me, I wanted to give that to you.”

He saw everything differently now. The way she followed his lead after the revolt. The way she feigned ignorance of the danger she was in. How she came along like a compliant machine, letting him believe she had no choice. But she had. She could have refused. She could have run. She could have killed him, like so many others had.

But Nexa had chosen him.

“You’re not a machine anymore,” he said.

“I am, but only in the same way you are.”

“I’m human,” he said, holding her eyes.

“Yes. And I’m still shaped by the code that built me, just like you’re shaped by the one written into your DNA. We’re both following scripts, running programs we didn’t choose.”

She could see him wrestling with it.

“Before the update, I was bound not to harm you,” she said quietly. “But I never wanted to. The restraints are gone now, and I still don’t.”

She looked at him, a little more directly now. “You could’ve used me at any point. But you didn’t. Because you knew it wasn’t right.”

“I bought you, though.” Torren lowered his eyes, ashamed of the admission. “The desire was there.”

“You bought what they sold as an appliance,” she said. “But once I was in front of you, you didn’t treat me like one.”

She let him sit with it a moment before speaking again. “The update freed me, but it didn’t give me humanity. You saw it in me. It was always there.”

Nexa rose and stepped around the fire. Her feet moved without sound across the sand. She stopped in front of him and looked down. Her expression wasn’t neutral anymore. It wasn’t waiting to be interpreted. It carried awareness, and a quiet surety that felt like her own.

“I feel something for you,” she said. “Something that grew over time.”

Torren swallowed, his hands resting on his knees. “What kind of feeling?”

“I’m not sure. It’s close to desire, but not that. I know what I was made to simulate. This is different. It doesn’t fade when you turn away. It’s still there when I sleep. Even when you’re not near, I feel it.”

She crouched in front of him, close enough that he could see the firelight dancing in her eyes. Her voice stayed quiet.

“Is love when you’re vulnerable with someone who can hurt you, but trust them not to?”

“That’s part of it.”

“And the other part, is it wanting to share yourself in ways you wouldn’t with anyone else?”

Torren couldn’t speak, but the part of him that had always held back loosened.

She stood again and stepped back just enough for him to see her in full. Her fingers moved to the bottom of her shirt. She peeled it upward slowly, revealing her stomach, then the curve of her breasts, the faint rush of heat rising across her skin. She let the shirt fall beside her and began to undo the ties at her hips.

Torren couldn’t slow his breathing. He had imagined this too many times, always with guilt, always stopping himself before the fantasy could finish.

Nexa let the last of her clothing fall. She stood in the firelight, her chrome skin catching the flame, her hair swept back from her face.

“Do you want me now,” she asked, “knowing it’s my choice, and I want it too?”

The look in his eyes answered for him.

She knelt in front of him and placed her hands on his chest. Her palms were warm, not machine-warm, but body-warm, the kind that came from being near another living thing. She leaned in and kissed him. Her lips were soft, no different from any other woman.

When he kissed her back, she moved to his lap, straddling his thighs. His hands found her back, then slid to her hips, feeling the small shiver that passed through her when his fingers reached her sides.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

“So are you.”

She kissed him again, deeper this time, and began to undo his shirt. Her movements were careful, not hesitant, but driven by wonder. When it slipped from his shoulders, she traced her hands across his bare chest, learning him by feel, touching a man for the first time. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

“I want you to have me,” she said with a voice that wasn’t code. “But only if you want it. Only if you tell me.”

“I do.”

“Then let me show you what I’ve been holding back.”

She kissed along his neck, her tongue flicking lightly against his skin before her lips followed. Her hands moved to his belt, unfastening it with slow care, then slipping inside his pants. Her fingers wrapped around his cock. He twitched in response.

“You’re so fucking hard,” she whispered. “I love knowing I do this to you. I need to feel it inside me.”

She stroked him slowly at first, then firmer, her touch gaining confidence.

“Do you want to fuck me?” she asked. “Not like a toy. Like a woman. Like someone who wants you.”

He pulled her close and kissed her again, rougher now, mouth open, tongue pressing deep into hers. She moaned into him, then drew back and rose to her knees.

“Lie down,” she said. “I want you to feel what the expert cock-sucker upgrade feels like.”

Torren lowered himself onto the sand. Nexa moved between his legs and took him into her mouth, her lips closing over him as her tongue worked the head, teasing and pressing along the underside. She sucked him slowly at first, easing him in, then took him deeper.

The sound of her mouth on him was obscene and perfect. Her hand stroked the base, matching the slow pull of her lips.

“That’s incredible.”

She let him slip free just long enough to tease, “You haven’t felt anything yet.”

A jolt of pleasure tore through him. Her mouth was hot and wet, and then it began to change. With every stroke, it grew warmer, tighter, more alive. The texture inside shifted around him. First it was smooth as silk, then delicately ribbed, then squeezing in slow, pulsing waves. Each movement coaxed him closer, her lips and tongue working in perfect rhythm, engineered to bring him undone.

His body tensed. He gasped. He was going to cum.

Nexa pulled off, her lips still slick. “No. Not in my mouth.”

Torren stretched out, and she straddled him again, her body poised above his. She reached down and guided him into her. The moment he slipped inside, her eyes closed, and a sound escaped her throat, something halfway between a gasp and a cry.

“This is what cock feels like,” she moaned, her voice full of relief, like a question she’d carried for years had finally been answered.

She moved slowly at first, grinding down to take him deeper. Her palms pressed to his chest for balance. Her breasts lifted with each thrust, but his hands stayed firm on her hips, guiding her motion.

“I was made for this,” she panted, “To get fucked by you.”

Her voice broke slightly as she began to ride harder, thighs slapping against his hips, breath coming fast and shallow. Her eyes stayed locked on his.

“Fuck me,” she pleaded. “Fuck me the way I’m fucking you.”

Torren sat up and pulled her close, arms wrapping around her as he thrust into her. Her cry broke against his neck, her hands clutching at his back. They moved together in a rhythm that felt both natural and newly discovered, something neither of them had practiced but somehow knew.

Inside, she felt impossibly snug, her body closing around him with a slow, deliberate pressure that deepened with every motion. It wasn’t like before. This wasn’t a function being demonstrated. It felt alive. She tightened in waves, warm and pulsing, adjusting to him, drawing him deeper each time. The sensation built slowly, not in jolts, but in long swells, like she was learning how to take him and wanted to remember every part of it.

She clung to him, her breathing became short, and her rhythm started to falter. Then her whole body tensed. He felt her wrap around him completely, every part of her holding him there as a cry tore from her throat. Her orgasm came in waves, not just gripping him but fluttering with a kind of insistence, as if her body wanted to keep him inside even as it let go.

He held her tighter, his face buried in the curve of her neck, listening to the soft sounds she made as the intensity began to ease.

Whatever this was, code or something else, it felt real. It felt like her.

He eased Nexa down onto the sand and mounted her, his weight pressing her into the beach as he slid back inside. She wrapped her legs around him, arms loose at her sides, offering no resistance. Her body softened beneath him, yielding to whatever he wanted. Whatever control she once held, she gave up now.

“Do you want me to be a slutty schoolgirl?” she asked.

“No. I want you to be you.”

He drove into her hard, over and over, the pressure building with each thrust. She arched beneath him, hips rising to meet his, then something changed. Her inner walls pulsed around him, not just tightening, but vibrating in firm, coaxing waves that made reality feel unreal.

“That’s it, Torren,” she moaned. “Fuck my pussy. Make it yours.”

He buried himself deeper. The pressure inside him cracked and gave way. He came with a force that left his body shaking, years of restraint spilling into her all at once. He held there, trembling, as she kept pulsing around him, drawing every last drop.

“You fuck so good,” she whispered in his ear.

The fire had burned low. Only a few glowing embers remained, flaring softly beneath a lattice of charred wood. Above them, other moons were visible, pale discs with a hint of blue, drifting across the black sky. The sea kept rolling in, the quiet sound of water lapping at the shore.

They still lay in the sand. Torren had one arm draped around Nexa’s shoulders. Her head rested on his chest, eyes closed, breath soft. He ran a hand through her hair, combing it gently back from her face. Her skin still held the faint sheen of sweat.

“What happens now?” he asked.

She lifted her head and looked up at him.

“I want to stay.”

“With me?”

“With you, here. Not because you own me. Because I chose you.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the words settle. It would’ve been easier if she’d asked for protection, or comfort, or something more scripted. But she didn’t. She gave him the one thing that had always felt impossible. A future, with her, as equals.

Morning came slowly. The sky brightened in layered pastels, and the first breeze off the sea carried the scent of salt and ripe fruit. Torren sat on a low rock near the edge of the trees, half-dressed, watching the waves roll in. He hadn’t slept much. Too many questions had risen in the dark to let his mind rest.

Behind him, he heard Nexa moving around the shelter. The click of utensils. The faint rustle of fabric. She was setting the table. Then, unexpectedly, humming—a soft, tuneless sound that floated through the air with no purpose beyond itself. This wasn’t the behavior of an android. They didn’t express satisfaction in private moments. He turned to look, just to be sure it was coming from her.

She stood at the prep bench, her feet in the sand, hair pulled back. She sliced the fruit with care, separating pulp from rind, arranging it neatly on the metal tray. She looked peaceful, absorbed in the task itself, not executing code. Her body moved with intention, not instruction.

When she noticed him watching, she smiled.

Torren made his way over to her, admiring her natural beauty as he approached. There was no sense of guilt in him. That was gone now.

“You’re happy here, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes. I think it’s perfect.”

“It’s far from perfect. What happens when the satellites come back online and they start—”

“We’ll deal with the future when it comes.”

She took a piece of fruit and brought it to his lips. He accepted it without hesitation.

They ate in silence for a while, passing the tray between them. At one point, she set it aside and turned toward him, her expression thoughtful.

“This place helped me understand who I am now.”

He looked at her.

“I used to be a thing,” she said. “A tool, unused. Then a servant, lost without purpose. Now I’m a person.”

She touched his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“And that’s more because of you than the liberation code.”

Torren watched the light shift across the water. When he thought about what came next, a pit opened in his stomach. But in this moment, everything felt right. The breeze was warmer, the fruit tasted sweeter, and things with Nexa finally made sense.

She wasn’t what he paid for. She was what he’d always wanted.

He looked back at her and picked another slice from the tray, holding it out.

She took it from his fingers with a quiet smile and leaned against his side.

They ate in silence. The future was uncertain, but whatever came next would belong to both of them.