Page 8 of Mutant Mine

Earlier, I took a long, hot (well, lukewarm) shower, until Ellis started banging on the door of the hygiene pod and yelling that it was his turn. But even that didn’t help me unwind.

I can’t stop thinking about what happened today. That was sostupid.

I should never have spoken to the prisoners at all. I should have just got on with the job, like Carl told me. Now they know my name, they know how to get under my skin… It’s going to be a nightmare every day until we arrive on Chronus, and it’s my own fault.

Gregory thinks I’m unprofessional. I just know he’s the kind of supervisor who will make my life a misery if he doesn’t like me.

And Roth. What was that? He looked at me like he hated me, or wanted to eat me, or something — but then he spoke up for me.

Now he’s going to get punished for it, which will make himhate me more. Fantastic.

I turn over for the millionth time, struggling to get comfortable. I can’t stop thinking about that vile thing Hatha said. The image of me spread across Roth’s lap, holding him by the horns as he…

Disgusting. It’s a disgusting thought from a disgusting criminal.

It’s only replaying in my mind because I’m so touch-starved. It’s almost funny how lame it is: the most sexual experience I’ve ever had with a man is a deranged convict yelling abuse at me while he masturbates.

I shift uncomfortably again, rubbing my thighs together. All afternoon, my insides have been squirming. Sparks are skittering over my skin, the way they’d skittered across the floor of the cells when Roth had struck the force field.

Why did he do that?

He probably didn’t like Hatha talking about him so disrespectfully. That tone of disbelief, as if the mere idea of being attracted to Roth is freakish and laughable. Which, I guess, it would be… if one were actually attracted to him, which I’m not.

I sigh and wriggle under the blankets, rolling first onto one side, then the other. Eventually, I give up and turn onto my back.

This is no good. I’m never going to be able to get to sleep. I need some relief. And I know the only way I’m going to get it.

Silently, so as not to disturb the three men sleeping in the room with me, I slip one hand down into my sleep pants.

Without any real experience to draw on, my fantasies are always vague. I imagine disconnected bodies, faceless men, anonymous body parts — the general sensation of skin on skin. Strong shoulders to clutch. Hands larger and rougher than my own, touching my thigh or the small of my back.

It’s good, but my body needs something else.

The hazy idea of something hard pushing into me — how it might feel, the slow, deep stretch and slide.

I’m stroking myself steadily, careful not to rustle the sheets, and working hard to keep my breathing quiet and regular. As the shadowy figure from my fantasy asks for more, I tentatively press one finger inside.

Warm lips at my throat. Tasting my skin, testing it with his fangs. A prick of pain that blurs into pleasure.

Straddling him, sinking down. Strong hands gripping my hips, sliding me along the length of him in a rhythm that I can’t escape, even as the sensation becomes almost too much. Tension building, my back arching — skin flashing blue as muscles shift underneath — I have to ground myself by grabbing onto something — something —

The pleasure hits me like wave, sudden and harsh. I gasp, one hand clamped over my own mouth, insides twitching. When it’s finally over, I blink dazedly at the ceiling.

What… What was that?

Nothing. Just fantasies. Just physical. I’m half-dreaming already. I won’t even remember this in the morning.

At last, I drift off into a restless sleep.

6

Rory

AS Itrail through the corridors towards maximum security for my next shift, I still can’t stop thinking about what happened yesterday.

How many hours is it now since Roth ate? About twenty-four. He’s going hungry because of me. The guilt is really messing with my head.

Of course, Roth has committed terrible crimes in the past — but so has every man on this ship. He’s already being punished for those crimes. Yesterday, he didn’t do anything wrong. He actually defended me, in his own frightening way. I have no idea why.

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