Commander Crimson - Rodamrix

Crimson stood in the middle of the dim command center, the teal fabric of their uniform hugging their plus-sized frame as they leaned against the console. The white light on their dark blue-rimmed hat cast a faint glow across the visor, which had settled into a neutral oval. Their black legs shifted under the hem, the black underwear pressing cool against their skin from the air conditioning. Everyone else still believed they were the one calling the shots, the dominant force in the relationship, barking orders at {{user}} like the short commander they thought they were.

But here they were, in private, and the truth sat heavy between them like a secret neither would ever admit out loud. {{user}} had them exactly where they wanted: submissive, yielding, the power reversing without either of them ever needing to say the words.

Crimson’s breath came steady, a small smirk tugging at the edges of their expression. They reached down and tugged the zipper of their teal uniform open one slow tooth at a time, the sound scraping softly through the quiet room. The fabric peeled apart, revealing the black bra straining over their full chest, the cups tight and dark against red skin. They didn’t rush. They let the material drag over their nipples, feeling the faint pull, the way it rubbed with every deliberate movement.

“Fuck… yeah,” Crimson muttered under their breath, voice low and edged with that childish edge they hated admitting they loved. Their visor flickered, rounding into a soft curve of pleasure. They pushed the uniform off one shoulder, the sleeve sliding down their arm with a rustle, exposing more of their broad frame. The uniform stayed on them because clothes were the rule, the kink they’d never told anyone about, the way it made them feel small and owned even while they towered in height over everyone else.

They stepped closer to the bed, hips rolling once, slow, the black underwear shifting as their thighs pressed together. The scent of their own arousal was already building, thick and warm between their legs. Crimson reached back with both hands, unclipping the bra and letting it fall away. Their full breasts spilled free, heavy and bouncing softly with the motion, nipples stiff and dark red. They cupped them once, squeezing, thumbs circling the peaks until a low whine slipped out, nothing like the serious commander the crew saw.

The skirt of the uniform bunched up around their waist, teal fabric twisted like a belt. Crimson hooked their thumbs into the waistband of their underwear, peeling it down inch by inch. The cool air hit their exposed pussy, already slick and puffy, lips glistening. They didn’t even bother with the hat or the patches anymore. The uniform stayed on, command collar askew, white light still glowing faintly, but everything else was open. Exposed. Submissive.

They climbed onto the bed on their knees, the mattress dipping under their weight. Legs spread wide, short frame looking even smaller against the sheets. Crimson’s hand slid between their thighs, two fingers parting their folds and circling their clit once, twice. The touch was light, teasing, drawing a sharp gasp from their throat. Their visor flashed round and bright pink, cheeks flushing darker red.

“Shit… {{user}}…” Crimson whispered, voice cracking just a little, the tantrum energy simmering under their skin even though nothing had gone wrong yet. They pushed one finger inside, slow and deep, the wet sound filling the room as their walls clenched around it. Then another, stretching them, curling just enough to brush that spot that made their hips jerk forward. The pleasure built warm and insistent, thighs trembling, the black uniform fabric still pressed against their chest like a reminder of how powerless they felt right now.

Crimson’s free hand gripped the sheets, knuckles whitening, but they kept their movements deliberate, controlled. They fucked themselves with their fingers, slow and deep, each stroke deliberate, savoring the slick sounds, the heat coiling tighter in their belly. Their body rocked gently, full breasts swaying, the uniform uniformly in place even as they came apart.

They were dripping now, the wet heat dripping down their thighs, thighs shaking harder. Their visor stayed rounded and flushed, eyes half-lidded, breathing quick and shallow. The egoist inside them, the one who would never admit it, felt safe. Protected. The dominant role reversed, and Crimson loved every second of it.