Hercules Hansen walks through the door of the Pan Pacific Rim Research and Development Division and tries very hard to be quite small and ignorable. This is nearly impossible for a man of his height and build, all lean muscle and scars, to achieve.

He nervously rubs the stubble on his jaw, wishing that razors and shaving soap weren't one of the first items declared frivolous, his old electric shaver never quite gets close enough. He thinks it makes him look old and tired.

"There you are! Quit lurking in the shadows and get over here. Look at these test scores!" The Head of the Jaeger Pilot Recruitment and Training Dr. Yvette Yates, waves him over.

She's forgotten to put her pale blonde hair up again and is using pencils again, messily stuck into her bun. Herc has wanted to pull those pencils out for weeks now. At every briefing he contemplates what she would look like under the coarse linens of his bunk.

The man who has faced down giant aquatic monsters in two legged nuclear tanks, chokes back his urge to flee from the room. Keep it casual. Casual, he thinks. "Oh hey. Okay." He's never embraced the rock star status that some of the other pilots have, he chafes at being exploited as a piece of government propaganda. Right now he wished that he had a bit of those guys' swagger, some of their boundless self-confidence.

"These scores are amazing. Look at how high the Drift Compatibility ratio is on this subject! I think we've found your new co-pilot." She grins at Hercules with crooked, cigarette yellowed teeth and pushes her glasses up her nose. She has nearly glowing pale skin from living in a research bunker with fluorescent lighting for months now. Dr. Yates jokes that she'll explode if she ventures out into the sunlight now, Poof! Turn into ashes just like a vampire.

Beautiful. Smarter than him by leaps and bounds. He always had a thing for blondes with attitude. They'll put you in your place and make you beg for more. Just like Angela did. He's made peace with her death, knowing that he'll fight the Kaiju with until his last breath. Jaeger pilots don't get the luxury of getting grey hair and growing old with those they love. They are lucky if their families even speak to them. He frowns at the thought of his estranged son, Charles.

"Herc? Hello?"

He startles, coughs and tried to cover that he was lost in thought staring at her. "Oh yeah. Right. Right. Very promising. Who's the candidate?"

"You know we use blind ID numbers to avoid favoritism and work on a strictly professional, scientific basis. You'll find out like everyone else." She doffs her lab coat and stretches out her arms. She's wearing the standard uniform everyone else does, but it looks good on her. Too good. Jesus, Hansen, what are you seventeen? Keep it in your pants!

"Didn't you test out too? Do you think we're compatible? Maybe you'll be my co-pilot..." He flashes her a slow smile that she answers in turn, looking up at him through pale lashes. Oh yes. I'm not that old yet!

"I just tested to calibrate the Drift equipment. I'm not a fighter, I'm a thinker." She taps her head. "No room up there for anything not related to academia, Kaiju crap and knitting."

Hercules chuckles, "Just like my mum. She taught Classics at the Uni."

"So... that's where you got your heroic first name. I was wondering about that..." She reaches over to get a pen and grazes his hand, lightly. Oh yes. Not that old at all.

"So Dr. Yates, Yvette, want to get something at the cafeteria? A little celebration of all your team's hard work?" The blue glow of the interface reflects off her lenses, and he holds his breath until she replies.

"Why not?" Yvette flicks a paperclip at the back of one of her junior researcher's head.

"What was that for, THIS time?" His voice is high and nasal, he's poking away at a pile of Kaiju parts. The desk top is stained deep blue.

"Newt! You're in charge until I get back."

"Sweet!" Newt gloats at his coworker, Hermann on the other side of the partition they share and makes a gesture of I'm watching you.

"Hermann? You're in charge of Newt until I get back."

"But of course, Dr. Yates." He smirks with rubbery lips and makes the same gesture back at Newt.

Yvette grabs her clipboard, "Sometimes I feel like I'm managing a school for hyper-aggressive children rather than an elite military research operation."

Herc chuckles, offers her his arm and says, "Really, there's not much of a difference even on the best days."

Freckles... Freckles all the way down to the dimples of her bottom. Was not expecting that, wasn't expecting this. He was hoping, but hope is such a fickle, fleeting emotion for a soldier.

Herc trails his scarred and calloused hand down the curve of her sweat-glistened back, lightly tracing the indents at the base of her spine.

"Did you know you have a birthmark, right back here?"

Yvette giggles as he pokes at a delicate place. "Not like I can see it without a mirror and my glasses. And a yoga pose. You Aussies and your skin..." She wriggles enticingly.

"Slip." He kisses her shoulder. "Slop." Pulls her body tight against his. "Slap."

Herc should be nervous, this will be the first time he'll meet the person who will Drift inside his head. The person who shares the strongest neural connection and compatibility with him. He's resigned to his duty. Someone has to go out there and fight the Kaiju. Might as well be him. His personal need for vengeance has sputtered and waned after so many battles.

Doesn't matter who the new pilot is, he trusts Dr. Yates' test scores. What a lady.

He can still smell the scent of her shampoo, feel the way her hair cascades down his skin when she takes out those damn pencils. He feels better than he has in years, finally letting down his guard. Angela wouldn't have wanted me to be alone forever, right?

Dr. Yates winks at him from her desk stacked with instruments and interfaces, then gets back to berating the strange little man named Newt for some error. Glad I don't have to deal with that, just stick me in the Jaeger and point me towards the Kaiju.

Life is simple inside a Jaeger. Kill or be killed. It is better when you don't have to think about why you're doing it. Like Pentacost says, bring nothing into the Drift. No fears, no memories. But we're old school pilots, these are mostly children. God, I am old, but for once I don't feel it.
*

The new pilot candidates line up along the promenade, anxiously awaiting their fates. One by one they get the news, welcome or try again next time. Good looking group of recruits, Herc thinks.

Looks like they forgot me this time, Herc thinks when no one comes to meet him. Then someone taps him hard on the shoulder, and Hercules Hansen hears a very familiar voice. "Hey Daaaad."

His son, Charles Hansen, looks him dead in the eye and enjoys his startled expression. "Looks like we're compatible. Ready to get inside my head?" He smirks.

"You're joking." Who put him up to this? They are going to be in a world of pain.

"Nope! This is the candidate that had the best scores." Dr. Yates taps on her clipboard. "Numbers don't lie. This is your new pilot."

"This is my SON." Herc wishes that those words didn't come out as strangled as they did. How can he begin to tell them how wrong this decision was?

Jaeger pilots don't have long lives for a good reasons. If the Kaiju don't kill you outright, there's mechanical failure, drowning, radiation sickness, Kaiju-blue poisoning, suicide... those are just the deaths of his closest personal friends. How can they expect him to go along with essentially condemning his only child to an early horrific death?

"Chill out, Major. I got this. Either it works or it doesn't. I'm just here to kill Kaiju and get a little payback or have you forgotten Mom?" Chuck sneers at Herc, all blustery fire and bravado.

How could he forget? That day when he chose to fly to the aid of his child and left his wife to die. Stacker says that it was the Kaiju that got her when it attacked Sydney, but it could have been the nuke they set off off the coast. They never found her remains. Sometimes Herc wonders if it would have been easier for Chuck if they had. Would a funeral have mended some of the gaping chasm between them?

"I haven't forgotten a single moment." The events of that horrible day are etched on his skin in scars from the shrapnel that hit his vehicle. He wouldn't be piloting a Jaeger if he didn't have a deeply-suppressed death wish, that's what the military psychologists say. How can he hope to repent, to make Charles understand that his mother would have wanted her child to live to thrive?

"Good. Because it is your fault that mom died. I'm going to try to stop these monsters from doing anymore damage to the good people of this nation so no more little boys have to grow up without their parents!" Chuck turns on his heel and marches off to the Drift testing chamber.

Herc looks over at Dr. Yates and can't quite meet her eyes. He's ashamed both at the rude behaviour of his child and his obvious lack of parenting. The most important relationship in his life is an utter failure. He's going to be Drifting with the person who despises him the most in this world. Herc would rather face a Kaiju with a pistol, but the numbers don't lie. No, only people lie.

"I didn't know you were married too." Dr. Yates flips the papers on her clipboard.

Too?

"I lost my wife in the first Australian Kaiju attack. I was in the Air Force at the time. I chose to save that boy rather than my wife. He'll never forgive me for it." They walk to the Drift chamber,slowly, avoiding forklifts and workers rushing to finish the last Mark 4 Jager. "Seeing my son... it rips off the scabs on some pretty deep wounds." Herc wants to cry, but all that comes out is a rueful, sad chuckle.

"That's mighty poetic for a pilot." Dr. Yates grabs his hand and grips it tight, "All of us have lost people... we love. That's why we fight. Right?"

"Who did you lose?"

"My entire department at San Francisco. I spent more time with my colleagues than my family. I was on vacation in Las Vegas, of all places. Getting married at a casino. I rushed back after the city quarantine was lifted to help and found out that I was getting divorced that same day. So I enlisted." She bites her lip. "Now I've got a crew of dedicated scientists, engineers and mathematicians to work with, they all have a story. Nobody wants to talk about why they're here, but it isn't because they just wanted to work near the ocean." She pauses and raises her eyebrows, "Except for Newt. He's always the exception..."

"So, yeah. You can do this. I've seen your numbers. Trust them. What's the worst that could happen?" She leans in and kisses him, his stubble grates against her lips and for a just a moment long-burnt pain dissolves into pleasure.

Herc pulls Dr. Yates into a storage room and locks the door behind them. "Feel like reaffirming life just a little bit?" He pulls one of the pencils from her bun and twirls it around his fingers, showing off the dexterity that aided him as a fighter pilot. "They can't start anything without us anyways... Let them wait. It will be a good thing for Chuck, teach him some patience."

"This is not professional in the least, Mr. Hansen." Her voice catches in her throat as he slides his hand up the back of her black tank top and deftly unlatches the clasp of her bra. "Oh you practiced that!"

"Three times a day. I had a bet to win." Herc nuzzles at the base of her neck, inhaling her scent and committing it to memory. Little pleasures like the velvety softness of the skin on the underside of her tender breasts, little pleasures stave off the darkness.

She shimmies her pants off on the floor, surprising him with her eagerness and lack of underwear. He groans out, "You practiced that!" and lifts her bodily on top of a crate of rations. Herc pulls her close to the edge, molds her ass cheeks with his hands while enjoying her whimpers of anticipation. His first sips of her salty dewiness are savored, and deft tricks of his mouth are demonstrated to tease and torment but then nothing matters except the feeling of her thighs clenching against his head and the feeling of her hands entangled in his hair.

When she catches her breath and offers to respond in kind, he declines. "Someone will come looking for us soon. I've lived with a raging hard on before." He laughs kindly.

"Well just think of baseball!" Dr. Yates searches for something to clean up with.

More like just think of Drifting with your kid, Herc frowns. This was going to be messy.

Strapped into the Drift test machine, Herc clears his mind of all distractions, closes his eyes and awaits the inevitable.

Neither of the Hansen's have said two words to each other since the moment they entered the testing chamber.

For a moment, Herc has a random thought, How stupid would it be to strap two pilots to a fully functional Jaeger? How horribly wrong could that go? Naah. We've got the testing chamber for a reason.

These people are professionals and he's flown more missions than the other Jaeger pilots combined. He trusts them. He trusts Dr. Yates.

As the skull harnesses clip to their heads, and the whine of electronics booting up sounds in their ears Herc catches Dr. Yates' eyes with an errant glance. He's staring at her face when the Drift is started.

The merging of their conciousness, father and son, melds together seamlessly. All the past years of distance, spite and regret flow together and merge. Sucess. Too easy.

Wait! That isn't right. Wait! Goddamn rabbit!

Chuck is leading the Drift, poking and prying into the memories of his absent father. And he's found the last 6 months.

Flashes of his father and Dr. Yates fucking in cargo elevators with the walls shaking as the Jaeger's take off from the launch pads. He bends her over roughly, pumping with rapid thrusts. Her arms braced against the industrial grey steel, he winds his fingers in her hair. Drifting, he experiances the climax as if it were his own.
*flash*
Fragments of her slim fingers stroking his face as she rides the codpiece of his skinsuit, grinding herself into a climax as he, as they, suckles her breasts. Grinning as she licks the wetness from their skinsuit, holding back a groan as she deeply kisses them, her lips tasting of her succlulent quim.
*flash*
Snippets of her long blonde hair wrapped around his eager cock, teasing him until her lips draw shuddering spurts of pleasure from his loins. Her flushed face painted with his cum, dripping from her glasses' lenses.

Then, just as suddenly, they flash out of the memory and sync again.

The bond is strong, even if the bond is corrupted with fear, regret and resentment. They hold the neural handshake, perform the way they know they should, both well trained soldiers. Then the test is over.

Dr. Yates moves to remove Chuck's headset and as she leans over to flip the cable release, he whispers in her ear, "You are a right dirty bitch, aren't you?"
*

Dr. Yates glances at the younger Hansen, "What did you just say?" She wrinkles her eyebrows in query. She smells of soap, he knows that smell intimately now. There's the scar under her right temple, shrapnel from an exploded Drift machine years ago. He knows more about her now than he has any right to. He knows what makes her tick, knows what makes her moan.

"Oh sorry, must have been left over Drift fog. Wasn't... quite myself." Literally.

"Did you know I had 50 kills in the simulator, Dr. Yates?" Chuck regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth, but that's all he knows, the only thing that could possibly impress this woman. Just being this close to her makes his eager cock stiffen and rise.

She smiles kindly, "That's very impressive. Now let's get you out of this." Her hand touches the side of his face for a moment and he remembers the night when she greeted his father dripping wet out of the shower with a sly grin and a bottle of lubricant. He has to blink away the overwhelming memory of the tightness of her most intimate place milking the cum from his cock. Jesus Christ.

Dr. Yates moves over to his father and he's seized by jealousy as she performs the same maneuvers, but lingers to whisper in Hercules' ear a casual intimacy. Feelings of inadequacy, regret and loss are burned out by desire.

He's never felt like this before. Admittedly, he never had the chance. The pilot program was extremely rigorous, demanding the highest level of concentration and dedication. There was no time, no room for any relationship.

Charles Hansen is barely 19 years old and he knows full well that he's not the smartest, the fastest or the best fighter, but there is no one who wants, who desires more than he does. His need is a gaping raw wound, never sealing, never healing. Right now all he wants is the good doctor to touch him the way she's touching his father. One more thing to prove.

The Drift. What a mess.

*
"So, did I tell you what your son said to me after the test?" Dr. Yates is laying against his chest, playing with the damp hair, twirling it around her fingertips.

"I'm sure it was charming." Herc sighs. He's been getting the side-eye from far too many people around the base. Chuck is making a name for himself already.

"He called me a 'right dirty bitch'." Not too surprising, but usually he knows better than to insult a superior officer.

"Shall I smack him upside the head for you? Defend your honor? Lord knows he needs it."

All Herc saw in the Drift was Chuck training, hours of endless training, the death of Angela Hansen, Sydney in flames. Too much death and sadness. Just a kid, for all that bravado and swagger. The slightest hint of compassion or pity made his son bristle like a cactus, spiky with resentment.

"I don't think he ever learned how to treat a woman. Hell, I don't think he's even been with a woman. Drifting with your kid, I wouldn't recommend it to anyone." Herc wasn't trying to look, but you can't avoid things in the Drift.

"If you saw that, think about what he's witnessed. With us."

"Oh good lord, I'll have to avoid thinking about Lima then. Blow his little mind out, it would."

Dr. Yates quirks her eyebrow, "Lima? Now you have to tell me."

Herc laughs, a deep rumble in his chest. "Are you sure? I'd hate to shock you."

"Please. Give me more credit than that, you cocky flyboy." She tweaks one of his nipples.

"Well I was dating this gal in the pit crew, Lupe, and she started to brag to her gals that I was extraordinarily talented with my tongue. Something about endurance, positioning and staccato rhythms. Look I'm just enthusiastic about eating pussy."

Nothing better than the feeling of a woman surrendering herself to the moment, giving over to waves of pleasure right before his eyes. And he liked to watch, blue eyes missing nothing while peeking out over their pubic mound.

"Oh don't I know! Continue. And don't you dare leave out the details."

"Not much to tell other than the other gals got really tired of listening to her brag, so they challenged her to a bet. They would try me out and if she was right then she'd win the pool." He laughs, "Being the little bragger that she was, Lupe took them up on it. Thank god she told me about it too, because I don't speak Spanish very well. Enough to order lunch, at best."

I kept coming back to my room and for a week there was a different woman there, just waiting to put me through my paces. For a while I lost track of who I had or hadn't gone down on, because they started to show up again, for seconds or thirds!"

"Don't blame them. You need a large sample to draw conclusions from, they were just making sure of their averages. So did you win?"

"I didn't care! Lupe never shared any of the money with me anyway."

"That's a shame. Look, I don't think my sample set is large enough for me to completely decide if you're the best or not..."

Herc takes the challenge, scoots her off his chest, supports his body above hers in a proper pushup stance. She runs her hands down the ropy muscles in his arms, hard bulges of hard-earned muscle. "I thought you were sated..."

"Never."

Herc pivots her legs off the bed, and kneels in front of her spread legs. "Let me show you how they like it in Lima..." He runs his calloused hands up and down her thighs, then down her calves.

Spreading her labia, he can see a dribble of his semen leaking from her. Doesn't bother him in the slightest, not like any lad hasn't tasted his own seed from time to time.

He suckles greedily at her lips, teasing her gently with the tip and flat of his tongue. Herc watches the spasms that seize his tongue travel up her pale form and her orgasm floods his mouth.

He wipes their juices off his mouth with the back of his hand and climbs back on the bunk. He waits until she looks him in the eyes before ever so smugly asking, "So, how's that sample set now?"

She chuckles, "Now I see where that boundless self-confidence and bravado come from..."

"Australia. We're born this way."

"Seriously, Herc. The numbers don't lie. You two have perfect sync. I'm worried that you two might have a psychosexual loop starting. That's how most partnerships fail. We don't want your neural bond to weaken due to that."

She groans, "Why did I have to fuck a Jaeger pilot?"

"Hey now, I'm not the issue. We have to deal with Chuck though. He can't just be mouthing off like that. For one thing you out-rank him. You just have to put him in his place. For what is it worth, you can do whatever you want to him. You're a very persuasive woman, Dr. Yates."
*

There she was again. Charles Hansen saw Dr. Yates every where, in the testing lab, in the commissary and in his all too frequent dreams.

No one really made an effort to speak to him, that was fine with him. People were weak, easily broken and he was strong.

He was a Jaeger pilot. Well, he would be as soon as the next Kaiju attacked. They were on call for the next two days, just in case.

He'd space off into the distance while doing some mindless busy work and sort through his borrowed memories. Often he went back to one in particular. The good doctor greets him with one of her scarves that she wraps around his head, blindfolding him.

Then the sensations begin, arousal of course, excitement and the thrill of the unknown mix in with a hint of adrenaline that makes his heart race.

She divests him of his uniform in silence, occasionally kissing or licking a portion of his exposed skin until he burns with anticipation and it takes all of his control to not rip off the blindfold and bury himself into her wet and willing flesh.

"Cadet Hansen?"

Chuck blinks back his stolen recollection as Dr. Yates stands in front of him, in her uniform and a spotless white lab coat. There are two pencils in her hair that he longs to pull out and then trace the trail of freckles down her back.

"Yes ma'am?"

"We need to talk. Privately."

Well, now. "About what?"

"Come with me." Of course. He nods and follows Dr. Yates. As they walk down the promenade, he watches the way she walks, her hips tilting to and fro and wishes that the lab coat was shorter or altogether gone.

Chuck doesn't notice the amused smirk on his father's face as they walk past the Jaeger hanger bay.

Her quarters. Chuck can scarcely believe his good luck.

Maybe the good doctor wants to sample the younger Hansen, he doesn't blame her for that. He's in remarkable physical condition, in the prime of his youth. Doesn't have much to do other than work out and preen. He's rightfully proud of his rippling stomach and strapping frame.

He can't wait to see her freckles up close, to taste them with his tongue. He has to concentrate on not coming in his shorts right there, he's so excited by the possibilities. She's a right dirty bitch indeed.

"Cadet. Please take off your boots, looks like you stepped in some oil. We need to talk about what you are probably experiencing in the Drift."

Oh really? He takes off his boots and places them by the door.

"You are aware that there are certain memories that are... stronger than others. And I fear that you are developing a psychosexual loop. That is the number one cause of sync failure. We need you Cadet. We need you to fight the Kaiju. Is there anything that you need to talk about or need to work through? What is causing you to focus on these specific memories?"

"Off the record?"

"Yes, of course."

"I'd like to talk about your glorious tits, followed by your magnificent ass." He smirks smugly, knowing that she needs him. To fight monsters, but that's a type of need, anyways.

"So, you've been enjoying the... romps that your father and I indulge in. Now there's nothing wrong inherently in voyuerism, but the nature of the Drift is..."

He interrupts her, "Amazing. The Drift is amazing. Every time I go in there, with him, I get to see what new tricks you've come up with and Dr. Yates," she wants to knock that smug smirk right off his face with her clipboard, "When I called you a right dirty bitch, that was an understatement."

Her face turns red, but she's not embarrassed. No, she is angry and about to do what someone needed to do a long time ago. "Cadet! Attention!"

Muscle memory snaps him to rigid posture before he can even think of another barb.

"Eyes front!"

Dr. Yates is holding one of her scarves and he's suddenly thrilled and fearful simultaneously. She walks behind him and starts to place the blindfold over his eyes, he grabs her wrist.

"Listen Cadet. Either you let this play out or you can show your father how chicken you were the next time you Drift..."

He's not scared. He's not. What's the worst she could do? Everything or nothing at all. This is probably one of those stupid trust exercises. Yeah one of those things.

"Do your worst." He drops her hand and she binds the scarf tightly around his eyes.

"At ease Cadet." Chuck assumes that posture as well, linking his thumbs behind his back.

"So far, I'm not sure what you're trying to teach me." Then he feels the thick cold plastic of a set of zip-tie handcuffs on his wrists. Ziiiip! He's startled, but still cocky. "Still not sure. I was bad in school."

"You certainly were bad Cadet Hansen. You are rude, insubordinate and disrespectful to your superior officers."

"Not my fault they're so hawt. You're quite smoking for an older broad. I know about that birthmark by the way..."

"Always talking and never listening or feeling." Chuck can feel her fingers prying open his belt buckle and dancing over the closure of his pants. Oh yes. I've got this well in control. But he's still shocked at how efficiently she removes his pants. "Step. Step. Good. You can take orders. We're going to see if you can hold back that mouthy bravado of yours.. "

"Can't. My mouth runs on autopilot. Sorry for-"

He sucks in his breath with a sharp hiss as she drops his shorts to the floor. "Now what am I going to do with this shirt? Oh well, can't be helped." The sound of a pair of scissors snipping up the arms of his shirt, then down the sides, then the cloth falls away and he is left impressively naked.

Chuck feels her fingernails trail over his tanned skin, meandering over the pectorals, tracing the perimeter of his nipples then lightly raking from the lats to his impressive abdominals. Then they drop lower and her deft fingers wrap around his swollen erect cock, gently tugging at the base.

He nearly spills all over her hands, but she takes them away and he is startled by a hard, sharp smack on his round ass.

She hit me! Not with her hand either. He gulps, "What was that?"

"Does it matter? You don't get to come until I tell you to, Cadet Charles Hansen. If you can't demonstrate control in a situation like this, then how can I clear you to fly a nuclear powered vehicle of mass destruction?"

He's about to protest but another smack on the ass takes his breath away. Maybe if I stay quiet she'll stop hitting me and start sucking me. Good plan.

"So, Cadet. Tell me why you're focusing on those particular memories. You have far more devastating ones, I've read your file and talked to your father."

Silence.

Another burning strip across his ass, this time right at the junction of his leg. That stings!

"Why do you jeopardize your mission?"

"I-want to be the best. The best at everything." There, that should satisfy the harpy!

Dr. Yates strokes his burning ass then cups his pendulous balls. "You are the top of your class, but you seem to be doomed to failure... because you don't listen. You don't feel. Tell me what you want to do right now, what if I took off those cuffs?"

"First, I'd break whatever you were beating me with."

"Then?"

"I don't know..." There's so many things that he wants to feel in person, not as a Drift memory. "I just want... I want, something real. Not someone else's memory. Not his memories. I'm always second class in his eyes. Always a disappointment. And I'll never forgive him for what happened."

Dr. Yates wants to hold him, to pull him close like a poor child, but he's not a child. He's a Jaeger pilot with the potential to be one of the best, like Marshall Pentecost or his father Hercules. So instead she rewards him for his honesty by taking the length of him in her mouth, suckling softly on his swollen cock until his legs shake with repressed need. She releases him with a wet slurp.

"What do you want to do Cadet? Who do you want to protect? Why are you a pilot?"

"I want to protect my nation, I want to save the Earth from the Kaiju, I want to be the best pilot ever. I want to be better than my father and I want you to let me come," his voice breaks in a strangled whisper, "please."

"Good answer. You have permission Cadet." She takes him back into her mouth, then lavishes his spry shaft with the flat of her tongue, licking down to his balls. He trembles with need and not even the palm that she cracks against his ass distracts him from the pleasure of her wet, willing and oh so hungry mouth.

He cries out as his hot semen splashes again the roof of her mouth and nearly falls to the floor.

She guides him to her bunk and releases him from the cuffs. He lays there blindfolded and breathless.

"Do you think you'll be able to keep your sync in the Drift now, Cadet?" Dr Yates asks him.

"Yes Ma'am. Yes Ma'am."

"Good. I'll see you on the flight deck, Cadet." She leaves Chuck in a sweaty, confused and ecstatic pile on her coarse linen sheets. He'll do anything to please her now.

Like Hercules said, she could be a very persuasive woman.