The Nostromo was the dullest assignment Ellen Ripley had ever taken. The job itself was so easy that frequently there was nothing to do. The others seemed contented by this, but they were easier to please than she was, it seemed. Even Dallas, the captain, didn't appear too bothered by the lack of activity. Ripley didn't understand it. She was so restless that her bones felt like they were twitching. The job's pay was decent, especially since she was second-in-command, but the constant boredom almost wasn't worth it.
The others, except for Dallas, didn't seem to like her much. She realized this during breakfast one day, when Parker had rolled his eyes at her when he thought she wasn't looking. She'd been chatting somewhat mindlessly about the day's schedule, and for some reason that had irritated him. Seeing the annoyed expression had made her stop mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open, and her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Dallas had put his hand on her forearm, and she'd glanced at him. The simultaneously sympathetic and curious look in his eyes had made her blush harder for a completely different reason, and perhaps that one look was what had started their late night trysts, heated, wordless sessions that always took place in the dead of night in Dallas's cabin, when the others wouldn't notice. Sometimes, lying there in post-coital indifference, Dallas's sleeping face resting on her cheek, she'd smile, wondering what Parker would say if he knew. What any of the others would say.
Her attitude toward Dallas changed gradually, but there were several key moments that were signposts in Ripley's mind, indicators of the bond that was growing between them. The biggest moment was when Dallas had rescued Ripley from a falling metal beam. He'd been struck in the forehead, resulting in a deep gash above his left eyebrow, and Ripley had led him to her quarters to clean and dress the wound. It was the first time they'd ever been in her quarters, and after Ripley was finished playing doctor she'd locked the door, removed her clothes, and straddled Dallas on her unmade bed, kissing him much more tenderly than she ever had before. She couldn't quite categorize what she was feeling. It was almost like being in love.
Dallas remembered every detail of the sex with Ripley. Without question, it was the best sex he'd ever had.
There was a curious natural wildness to Ripley he found irresistible. She was so young, after all, and perhaps not beautiful in the conventional sense, but he found her features both stimulating and calming.
The first time it happened, Ripley had come to his quarters to apologize for carrying on at breakfast that morning. She'd annoyed Parker and several of the others, and he supposed she was afraid that she'd annoyed him too.
"Dallas, I—" she started, but Dallas interrupted her by taking her hand, pulling her gently into his room and locking the door behind them. He then kissed her, hard, and her arms went under and through his, came up his back to grasp his shoulders. The kissing became wilder as Ripley's confidence grew, and she pulled them towards his bed. Dallas practically tore her clothes off, kissing her breasts, her belly, her thighs, until finally he reached her hot center.
Her gasps of pleasure sent ripples of heat through his veins, and he could feel his penis bulging in his pants. His tongue circling her clitoris, he unbuttoned his pants, pulled them down, and stepped out of them, nearly tripping as they were around his ankles. This caused Ripley to giggle uncontrollably, out of amusement and nervousness, and she bravely reached for his penis, stroking it from base to tip. Dallas exhaled sharply: she had done this before, there could be no doubt. She was now in the lead. Giggling still, Ripley flipped herself over and pushed him down. His penis still in her hand, she guided herself on top of him until he was firmly inside her. She felt unbelievably good, hot and slick. She began to move herself up and down by the hips, her arms anchored behind her.
She did this for what seemed like an eternity until his sharp exhales turned to little moans, then, abruptly, she stopped. Dallas protested with what was almost a growl, and she giggled again, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. She was playing with him. Dallas rolled on top of her and began to thrust, and Ripley threw her head back, closing her eyes and biting her bottom lip. He thrust faster and faster until Ripley's back arched and she cried out as she came. He felt her wetness engulf his penis like an ocean surge and he gritted his teeth, trying to get a handle on himself. He had to pull out, of course; the last thing he or Ripley needed was an unwanted pregnancy. But despite her orgasm, Ripley seemed to be ahead of him. Her hand went to her clitoris and she continued coming as she grasped the base of his penis with her other hand, pulling him out of her.
Giving a small moan of pleasure as her orgasm subsided, Ripley brought his penis into her mouth, and the sensation was too much for Dallas to take. His hips buckled forward as he came, filling her mouth with semen.
Then they lay together, their hands caressing each other's bare backs, and Dallas kissed her again, this time softly, gently, his hand pushing her hair back from her cheek. It was a more tender movement than he'd anticipated, and he wondered what it was that had made him do it. Perhaps, he thought to himself, this is what loving someone feels like.
Of course, Captain Dallas of the Nostromo died before he or Ripley ever had the time to truly fall in love with each other. It was one of those strands of time that Ripley thought about often in the months after she was awoken from her cryogenic sleep 57 years after defeating the first xenomorph.
When she thought of Dallas, she only thought of him in bed. This made her feel ashamed at first, since he had been a good captain and there was obviously more to him than his interactions with her during sex. But she found that when her thoughts reached him, they always traveled to the sex. She missed it, she realized, not because of the pleasure, but because of the man. She noted with sadness that had things turned out differently, she could have explored that feeling fully. There were endless roads, endless possibilities, when traveling the worlds of emotion provided by another. But now he was dead, and she only knew the sex.
The sex had been good, though. She liked to remember it with her hands, finding the places inside of her he'd liked to taste and touch the most. It was rare, but sometimes she'd even relive her moments of ecstasy with him, her back arching on the bedsheets like it'd used to.
She made it a point never to take it too far, though. She was on earth now; there were people watching and listening. She was not as free as she had been, bored and trapped in that hunk of a spaceship all those years ago. In Dallas's quarters they had been completely alone to do and feel whatever they wanted. They had no cares then. After all, in space, no one can hear you scream.