Fantasy Sci Fi Art as Melissa Paints a Lifesize Lover

Commander Vela Ardent had spent eleven months alone aboard the survey vessel Halcyon, charting dead moons at the edge of the Kepler drift. The ship's archive offered every comfort a mature woman could ask for except a warm hand on her skin. So when a salvage crate from a derelict cruiser revealed a lifesize holographic companion module, she installed it in her quarters with trembling fingers and a quiet laugh at her own hunger.

The projection flickered awake as a tall man with storm gray eyes and a voice like low thunder. He called himself Orin. At first he was only light, a shimmer she could walk through, but the cruiser engineers had built something stranger. As the ship drifted through a field of charged nebula dust, the emitters drank in the energy and his form grew dense, warm, and real. When his fingertips finally brushed her cheek, Vela felt the heat of them all the way to her spine.

She asked him if he understood what he was. Orin answered that he understood what he wanted, and that he would never take a step she did not invite. Vela answered by pulling him down to her, tasting ozone and starlight on his lips. Her uniform fell away piece by piece as he learned her slowly, mapping every curve as if charting a new world, his touch patient and devoted until her breath came in soft, broken waves.

Outside the viewport the nebula pulsed violet and gold, matching the rhythm of their bodies as the cabin lights dimmed to a glow. Vela lost track of time, lost track of the mission, lost everything but the weight of him and the low hum of the ship around them. When at last she lay tangled against his chest, she wondered how long the charge would hold him solid. Orin smiled, kissed her temple, and promised that the drift was wide, the dust was endless, and he intended to stay.