Ship integration

"Fucking—*ah!*—wired it to—*ngh!*—pain receptors," Susan snarled through gritted teeth as another wave of agony lanced up her spine. The interface flared crimson in her peripheral vision, its tendrils of artificial nerve endings fusing deeper with each pulse of hyperspace turbulence. Across the cockpit, Adam wrestled with manual stabilizers, his fingers slick with coolant fluid. "Override codes aren't—*shit!*—working!"

Susan's back arched off the pilot's chair as the ship hit another dimensional shear. The interface responded like a lover—clenching around her nervous system in time with the Stormcrow's convulsions. Pleasure spiked through the pain, sharp and incongruous, lighting up pleasure centers that had no business being activated mid-catastrophe. Her hips jerked involuntarily against the restraints, the interface's feedback loop turning every system alert into electric friction between her thighs.

Vorax's laughter boomed through the comms, distorted by static. "Meat-toy found the pleasure circuits," he rumbled, sounding obscenely pleased. Susan barely had time to process the revelation before the ship bucked again—this time sending a bolt of white-hot sensation straight to her clit. Her scream echoed through the cockpit as her body convulsed, the interface interpreting structural damage as erotic feedback. Adam's curses turned admiring as he watched her ride the sensations, fingers flying over the auxiliary controls. "Christ, Susan, you're milking the thrusters—"