For you, my jordekorre @fangirlingoverstufff🤍 A little sweetness for tonight🍭
Explicit sexual content/ Rough sex/ Military setting/ Lyle Wainfleet being Lyle Wainfleet/No romance, just honesty
Part 1. Getting to Know You.
Girls are so damn tired of assholes. They’re everywhere — on Earth, on Pandora… and this one, who’d been chasing her for a month, bailed the second he slept with her. And she still tried to figure out what the hell was going on between them… while he just stopped talking to her for four days straight.
Through the fogged-up glass of the greenhouse module, she glanced again at the young brunette with those sleazy little mustache vibes flirting with one of the female scientists — sitting his cocky ass right on her desk.
She turned away, trying not to think about it. In small teams, this kind of shit happens all the time. Non-work relationships… easy to fall into, a nightmare to deal with after.
Izara looked away, trying to distract herself from the anger boiling inside. Yeah, she had no claim on him.
(Because he’s a cocksucker)
(Just don’t date coworkers anymore. Yeah, you’ve got 3.5 more years here, you’ll survive somehow. Just don’t step in the same shit again)
(He’s just an asshole. And he enjoys it)
She drifted through that bitter inner monologue while writing in the observation log. While entering data into the computer. While, sweaty and with her hair falling apart, she hauled boxes of soil toward the lab building.
— Watch it! — she snapped, nearly running over a couple of marines who were, as usual, loitering in the worst possible spots around Hell’s Gate.
These pissed her off even more — the rudeness, the dumb laughter, the crude jokes.
— Idiots, — she muttered under her breath.
The wheel caught in a groove between floor panels, and she swore through her teeth, trying to maneuver.
A hand suddenly caught the cart from the other side — like fifty kilos of soil weighed nothing. No question, no “need a hand?”
Annoyed, Izara didn’t even register what had happened at first.
— Whoa, whoa, easy. Where’s this going?
She looked up. One of the marines was smiling down at her. Nearly a head taller. Broad shoulders, thick neck. His eyes held this oddly boyish, easygoing curiosity.
— T-the lab sector, — she said, trying to push a strand of hair off her forehead and look serious.
A half-smile tugged at his mouth. Without looking at her, he took over the cart, walked past the other marines — who instantly moved aside. No dumb comments, no bullshit. Like it was just… normal.
(Imagine that. I can’t even walk past them without hearing comments about my ass)
Izara followed him silently, staring at his broad back. She felt stupid. She’d just called them all idiots — and this one… this one just helped.
(At least you get a close-up view of six feet of marine muscle and a gallon of testosterone in light gear. He clearly notices how you’re looking at his shoulders. He finds it amusing)
— I could’ve handled it, — she said when they reached the lab doors.
— You could have, — the marine agreed easily. He stopped, finally looking at her properly. — So why didn’t you?
She shrugged, meeting his eyes. With most of the soldiers she ran into, she tried not to even make eye contact.
(Like with a rabid dog. Don’t look — it might bite)
But this one… he was normal. Smiling. Just a regular guy.
She held his gaze a second too long.
— My guys giving you trouble? — he nodded in the direction the others had gone.
— None of your business, — she cut back.
— Alright, — he didn’t take offense. — I’m Lyle. Corporal Lyle Wainfleet. You?
— I’m Isi …Izara. I’m a botanist.
(You sound dumb as a brick, baby)
The corporal’s smile widened.
— Relax. They’re just bored, talking shit, — he nodded at the door. — You want me to take it in?
He pushed the cart inside, set it neatly by the wall.
— If those idiots get on your nerves — come by the range. I’ll teach you to shoot.
— I’m a botanist, — she reminded him.
— So? — he tilted his head slightly, studying her. — It clears your head. I’ll help.
And suddenly she caught herself not wanting him to leave. She’d never paid attention to soldiers before — but now…
(Now you like the way he looks at you)
She had been waiting for this moment. In the twenty-four hours since they met, her mild curiosity had turned into a sharp, restless hunger.
Even the asshole lab tech didn’t piss her off anymore — though he was trying his best.
She changed into a black T-shirt and old jeans. Pulled her hair into a ponytail. Like that, she looked about five years younger than her thirty.
She glanced at herself one more time… and stepped out.
The corporal was already there.
She walked past a group of surprised soldiers — but this time it didn’t bother her. He was here.
Lyle stood up when she approached, and Izara noticed again how tall he was. Even in light gear, no body armor, just a sleeveless shirt — he took up too much space. Shoulders. Arms. Chest.
— Start by just holding it, — he said, taking a firearm off the rack. — Get used to the weight.
She stepped closer. Lyle moved to her side — not behind her, not touching, but close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. Even through the fabric of his shirt.
She did. The gun was heavier than she expected. Cold metal. The smell of gun oil.
— Square up. Feet shoulder-width apart. Lean forward a bit. Don’t arch your back.
Lyle stepped in behind her.
Izara froze. She could feel his chest against her back — solid, warm, even through both layers of clothing. His breath brushed her temple.
— Relax your shoulders, — his voice was low, almost right against her ear.
She exhaled. Her shoulders dropped slightly.
— That’s better, — he placed his hands over hers, adjusting her grip. His fingers — wide, rough, calloused — completely covered her hands.
— You’re gripping too hard, — his voice stayed calm, low. — Don’t. Hold it firm, but don’t squeeze.
His thumb brushed along her trigger finger. Almost a caress.
— Now your sights, — he tilted her upper body forward a bit more, and his hips pressed closer to her ass.
— Yeah, — her voice came out rough. She cleared her throat.
Lyle smirked — a short, chest-deep sound. She felt the vibration through her back.
She tried. Honestly. But her attention wasn’t on the weapon. It was on his hands over hers. His chest behind her. His hips — centimeters from her ass.
— Don’t jerk your breath, — he tightened his hands slightly over hers. — Smooth exhale… then press the trigger.
— Are you standing this close on purpose? - it slipped out, quiet, almost a whisper.
He paused for a second. Then his voice came right by her temple:
— You want me to step back?
— Shoot, — he said simply.
She exhaled. Pressed the trigger.
The shot cracked loud — even through ear protection. The firearm kicked in her hands, but Lyle held steady, not letting her drift off target.
— Hit, — he said, and she could hear the smile. — Way off, but still a hit.
His body pressed fully against her now. She squeezed the trigger two more times.
— Give me a second… — she faltered. — Just a second.
(It’s just biology. A strong, healthy male body. Pheromones…)
(I don’t want him to let go of me)
Thirty minutes later, Izara set the handgun back on the rack. Turned — and now they were face to face, so close she had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.
Her heart was pounding. The anger at the asshole lab tech, the physical hunger, the adrenaline — it all blended into one sharp cocktail. Her thoughts were slipping.
(Why shouldn’t I just take what I want right now?)
— I want you, — she said it the same way she’d say I’m thirsty. Simple. A fact.
He laughed. The sound rumbled deep in his chest.
— You always this straightforward? — he asked.
— I’m just done with assholes, — she held his gaze. — So yeah. Straightforward.
— Fuck, that's hot,— his hands settled on her hips. — When do you want it?
Part 3. Three Hours of Athletic Fucking.
His hand rested so naturally on her shoulder as they walked out of the shooting range. Other soldiers watched them leave, but no one said a word.
She wrapped her arm around his waist, trying to match his stride, feeling his muscles shift under her palm as he walked.
— Where to? — his voice pulled her out of that physical haze. She liked how he leaned down when he spoke to her.
She looked up. Warm brown eyes were fixed on her.
— Elevator. Four decks down. Then left. I’ll show you.
The elevator was empty. Izara’s heart was racing.
(You’re insane. You just picked up a guy and you’re taking him to your cabin. What are you doing?)
But her body melted the moment the doors closed and he turned her, pressing her against him. Beneath the fabric he was hot — like a stone heated by the sun. And just as hard.
She let out a soft, awkward gasp when his hand lifted her chin and Lyle’s mouth covered hers. Hot. Wet. Just like she was between her legs. And not gentle at all.
If he noticed her hesitation, he chose to ignore it.
(You wanted him? Yes. He came with you. So what, you’re going to stop now?)
A few long minutes later they were at her cabin door, and she missed the lock several times with her keycard. Lyle simply took it from her fingers and opened it.
Bed. Table. A narrow bathroom door.
In her small room he seemed even bigger.
Izara stepped back as far as she could in the tight space, trying to restore some sense of normalcy.
— I have coffee, if you...
Instead of answering, he pulled his black T-shirt over his head. His muscles moved so beautifully she just stared. His fingers were already unbuckling his belt, sliding it free.
Of course she had seen naked men before. But not like this. Two meters of muscle. Broad shoulders. Narrow hips. A hard stomach. A hard cock… And all of that — right here, in her tiny cabin, close enough to touch.
He caught her gaze and smiled.
— You want to… just like that? — she let out a nervous laugh.
He grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up. She raised her arms, letting him take it off. Then her jeans — unbuttoned in one motion, pulled down along with her underwear. No hesitation. No awkwardness. Simple. Fast. Certain.
— Yeah. Or did you change your mind?
— I… no. I’m just not used to getting everything… this fast.
Her words blurred as his large, hot body pressed against hers.
The bunk was narrow — made for one. For two, it was tight.
Lyle lay down beside her, on his side, hovering over her. His hand slid between her thighs.
There was something brutally honest about it. Like she didn’t have to pretend anymore. Didn’t have to be careful. Didn’t have to play social games. Just… take what she wanted.
Her nipples were painfully sensitive from the cool air and the contact with his skin.
She moaned at the touch of his fingers — wide, rough, but unexpectedly skilled. Perfect texture, sliding through her wetness. He watched her with a smile as his rhythm picked up. She spread her legs wider, guiding him, letting him do it the way she liked…
His palm covered her mouth and she arched in his hands. Izara had never felt anything like it — when someone so much stronger completely takes over your body. When he controls even your breathing, your sounds. His body surrounded her as she moaned into his hand, eyes closed.
— Loud, — he said with a smile. — I like that. But the walls are thin, baby. What will your colleagues say if they hear me fucking you for a couple of hours?
His voice dropped to a whisper.
— Just a rough soldier’s fuck. You want that?
He rolled her onto him — straddling him. His big hands gripped her ass, because she was pushing herself down on him. His fingers slid into her mouth.
— You ride well,— he breathed into her ear through clenched teeth. — But be quiet.
She moaned, head falling back, feeling him deep inside her. He moved harder as she sucked his fingers. She had never thought she would like rough fucking this much…
She came again, feeling him drive deeper, heat spilling inside her.
— Good girl, — he said, almost gently.
He could hold her up effortlessly, like she weighed nothing. In two square meters of space, they had to improvise. Against the wall, her lifted off the floor. From behind. Again his fingers…
Izara lost track of time. He didn’t get tired at all.
The rhythm. Hard. Steady. Like a metronome. He wasn’t rushing. Not trying to impress. Just doing everything with absolute certainty. Every movement. His hands on her hips. Sometimes on her back. Fingers in her hair at the nape.
— Hold on, baby. I want to come again…
He finally did — deep, almost painfully, with a rough groan. Izara couldn’t move anymore. Her body didn’t feel like hers. It was humming with exhaustion — but it felt good.
He carefully set her on her feet, breathing heavily, and sat on the narrow edge of the bunk. Pulled her closer when her legs trembled.
Then Lyle turned his head and looked at her.
— Listen, — he said calmly, like they were talking about the weather. — If you ever need someone to just spend time with — not just sex, just… be there, have coffee, talk — call me. I’ll come.
Izara looked at him. At his broad shoulders. His relaxed face. His honest eyes.
— And if you want to get fucked properly — definitely call me, — he smiled. — I’m good at that too.
— You’re way too straightforward, — she laughed.
— So are you. I just don’t like lying.
His lips found hers again. It felt… warm. Calming.
— Three hours of athletic fucking are over, baby. But it’s not the last time. If you want it.
