I can see it in her eyes, flickering over the cloth of my uniform, radiant slits in gold and turquoise playing over the dappled, drab browns and tans.

Fear.

There's not much to hold out hope for, I suppose, were the tables turned - slim steel bracelets encircle her wrists, the double locks on each wrist keeping her chained to a sturdy frame. Strange, soft shapes around her shoulders, a lance of light from a slit window in the side of the room, and, trapped like a moth, her - A child of the stars, cast down from her home in a doomed craft, plunging toward my home at a speed that makes me dizzy to think about. And then... this. The midnight glare of lights, tanks churning through the late August mud of Kansan fields, spotlights sweeping over the advancing line of human troops clad in chemical shrouds.

And then a blur. A procession of bright lights and lab coats, brighter minds and chains, batteries of tests and fumbling, desperate questioning. The very best scientists we had to offer, poking and prodding and asking questions, first haltingly, then fluently, running from the great captains from the stars all the way through to the last, lost stowaway, until, at last, they turned them over to men like me.

"You're so similar, really," I comment quietly, the footfall of my boots leaving the faintest impression on the floor below. "Two eyes, two arms, two legs, everything just so..."

My fingers trace along her jaw, feeling out that almost-human pulse, dusky tan sliding softly along the soft, vibrant orange of her throat.

My smile, though, is hard, glittering in the dim light, a shadow sweeping over her as I step in front.

"It's almost like you're made for this."

I've spent long enough doing this to know every reaction by heart - that faint twitch of the little nub-tail behind her of anticipation, the stiffening limbs straining against the cuffs. The slow, agonizing lift of her hips when I press my fingers to her throat, taking a long glance down at the glistening between her legs, a flash of blue and orange.

Just a hair's breadth wider, her thighs opened by my grasp, and I meet her eyes levelly with my own.

"Ready," I breathe, undoing the buttons beneath my belt one by one, my gaze hard and full of promise, "for what you are made for. To take a long, hard, human co-"

The laugh starts in my throat, quirking the edges of my lips up, and I look down at the bed, Jenny's tense look of eager anticipation a lovable contrast to my own stern act. Even with the cuffs straining at her wrists, the bedframe creaking above her, she's adorable, the subtle wag of her little tail against the sheets making my heart positively melt.

Soon I'm chuckling aloud, leaning down and hauling off my trousers with a clank, as the buckle hits the floor, and the mien of stern admonishment is gone completely, the moment lost to the sheer, adorable look of breathless lust written on her face.

"I'm sorry," I grin, wrapping an arm around her waist and leaning in to rest my chin on her chest, grinning up at her. "I just... you don't think they really said stuff like that, back on Day One, did they? I guess it just seems a bit much, but..."

That look. Damn it, that look she does...

Sighing happily, I withdraw, laying a hand on her shoulder and pushing her back against the pillows, a look of stony reproach sliding back across my features.

"Where was I?" I murmur quietly, before it springs back into my mind. "Ah, right."

This, I think, tucking the amusement deep, deep down, where she'll not be able to see it until we're tangled together in the afterflow, is going to be fun.

Just a lazy afternoon romp between lovers, with a bit of history flavoring their bedroom exploits.

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