This erotic short story is meant for english language audiences.
If you want to read our Norwegian erotic short stories («erotiske noveller») you will find those here.

Here’s Beneath the Red Dust – Part 1, written in a sci-fi western style with stark, primal tones, tailored to your new three-part workflow. I’ve avoided em dashes and focused on humanized, grounded storytelling to build the characters and tension naturally. This sets up the standoff and truce, leaving room for the sex scene to unfold across Parts 2 and 3.

Beneath the Red Dust

The Martian sky sagged low and thick, a red blanket streaked with rusty clouds that rolled as the dust storm picked up steam. Fine grit swirled over the frontier plains, painting everything in a thin, bloody layer: the cracked shells of old rovers, the bony frames of solar panels, the sharp edges of basalt cliffs poking up in the distance. The air tasted like iron and sparks, heavy in your chest, and the wind dragged a low wail that bounced off the rocks like a ghost crying. This was the edge of the colonies, a wild strip where terraformers had quit and only the broke or the cursed scratched by.

Kade Voss slogged through the haze, his boots crunching the brittle sand, his duster flapping around his legs. He was 34, lean and beat-up, his face hardened by too many suns, Earth’s and Mars’ both. His dark hair was buzzed short under a wide hat, his jaw rough with stubble, and his hazel eyes squinted against the dust’s bite. A bounty hunter by trade, he had a pulse rifle slung over his shoulder and a water canteen hooked to his belt, its slosh a quiet hope in a place where water beat credits any day. His latest target was a runaway colonist, Mira Kell, who’d split from New Ares with a stolen hydro-processor and a bounty fat enough to get Kade off this rock.

He’d been tailing her three days across the plains, tracking faint tire marks from her rover until they got buried under a new drift. Now, with the storm rolling in, he saw it: a beat-up rover half-sunk in a dune, its solar panels smashed, its hull scratched with rust and blast marks. Kade ducked behind a boulder, his gloved hand resting on the rifle’s grip, and peered through the dust at the wreck. A shadow shifted inside, fast and sure, and his stomach knotted. She was in there.

“Step out slow, Kell,” he shouted, his voice rough, slicing through the wind. “Not in the mood for messing around today.” The wind ate half his words, but the rover’s hatch groaned open, and she stepped out, a shape against the red blur. Mira Kell was 29, wiry and scrappy, her short black hair clumped with dust, her skin baked tough by the Martian sun. She wore a patched jumpsuit, sleeves rolled up, and a scarf hung loose around her neck, stained red with grit. Her green eyes locked on his, sharp and steady, and she gripped a slapped-together plasma cutter, its tip glowing a faint blue.

“Voss,” she said, her voice flat but with a smirk sneaking in. “Knew they’d send a tracker. Didn’t think you’d be fool enough to chase me into this mess.” She edged closer, boots sinking into the sand, and Kade stood up, keeping the rifle aimed but his finger off the trigger. He wasn’t here to drop her, not yet. The bounty was good either way, but alive paid more, and he’d seen enough red on this planet already.

“Drop the cutter,” he said, nodding at her tool. “We’ll figure something out.” The wind kicked harder, throwing grit at them, and Mira’s smirk slipped, her eyes tightening as she sized him up. She chucked the plasma cutter aside, its light dying in the sand, and lifted her hands partway. “Figure something out, huh? What’s a hunter got for a drifter?” Her tone had a dare in it, but there was more too, maybe curiosity or just being bone-tired.

Kade eased the rifle down a bit, his canteen sloshing as he moved. “Water,” he said plain. “Half what I’ve got. Hand over the processor, and we’re square. No cuffs, no trip back to New Ares.” It was a stretch, he’d still cash her in if he could, but the storm was bearing down, and he needed her to play along, not end up a corpse. Mira cocked her head, eyeing him, then let out a dry, sharp laugh that barely cut through the wind’s howl. “Half? You’re softer than you look, Voss.”

She stepped nearer, close enough he could smell the dust on her, mixed with sweat and a whiff of engine grease. The storm was hitting hard now, the world shrinking to a red haze, and Kade nodded toward the rover. “Inside. We’ll talk where we can breathe.” Mira paused, then gave a quick nod, turning to climb back into the wreck. He followed, ducking through the hatch, and the wind slammed it shut, locking them in a dim, dusty bubble.

The rover’s insides were a wreck, busted consoles, a bunk stacked with scavenged junk, a faint buzz from a fading battery flickering the overhead light. Mira leaned against a wall, arms crossed, her scarf slipping to show a scar curling down her collarbone. Kade set his rifle down slow, making a point of it, and unhooked his canteen, tossing it her way. She snagged it with one hand, took a big gulp, and wiped her mouth, red dust streaking her lips. “Truce, then?” she asked, lobbing it back, and he caught it, their eyes meeting in the shaky light.

“Truce,” he said, voice quiet, but the space between them got heavy, buzzing with something more than just staying alive. The storm pounded outside, shaking the hull, and Mira stepped closer, her smirk creeping back, softer this time. “Good. Let’s see how long it lasts.” Her hand brushed his arm, testing him, and Kade’s pulse jumped, the dust and her warmth turning the standoff into something real, something alive under the Martian sky.

The rover’s hull creaked and groaned as the storm hammered it, red dust sneaking through cracks to settle in a thin layer over the floor, the bunk, and the busted console where Kade’s rifle sat. The overhead light flickered, throwing sharp shadows across Mira’s scarred collarbone and the tight lines of her jumpsuit, her green eyes shining like worn jade in the gloom. Kade stood a foot off, his duster dumped on the floor, his shirt sticking to his chest with sweat and grit, the canteen still warm in his hand from where she’d touched it. The air inside was heavy, thick with iron dust and the heat rolling off them, and the truce they’d agreed to felt thin, ready to break under something wild stirring up between them.

Mira moved first, stepping in close with a shuffle that kicked up a puff of red sand. Her hand snagged his shirt collar, rough and steady, and she yanked him into a kiss, hard and sloppy, their lips crusted with Martian dust that crunched a little between their teeth. She tasted like dirt and salt, her tongue shoving past his with a need that matched the storm’s wail, and Kade leaned into it, his hands landing on her hips, fingers pressing into the patched fabric of her jumpsuit. The kiss was a tussle, all breath and want, and she pulled back just long enough to spit, a quick, sharp shot of red-streaked spit hitting his neck, warm and gritty from the dust in her mouth. It ran down his skin, staining his collar, and he let out a low growl, the roughness lighting a spark in his belly.

“Dirty move,” he muttered, voice scratchy, but his hands slid up, tugging her scarf off to bare her throat, his lips chasing the path of her spit. He licked it clean, tasting the sharp bite of Mars mixed with her sweat, and she laughed, a rough, deep sound that buzzed against his mouth. “Look who’s talking,” she fired back, her fingers clawing at his shirt, ripping it open to show his chest, scarred and dusted red. The storm shook the rover, a heavy rumble closing in, but inside it was just them, the air snapping with static and heat.

She pushed him back, hard enough he tripped onto the bunk, the thin mattress squeaking under him. Mira didn’t hang around, she climbed right over him, straddling his lap, her knees digging into the bunk on either side of his hips. Her jumpsuit was half-unzipped now, the top sagging to show the curve of her chest, small and tight, streaked with dust clinging to her skin. Kade’s hands grabbed her hips again, holding her steady as she rocked against him, the press of her through the fabric rubbing against his stiffening cock, still caught in his pants. “Get going, hunter,” she hissed, antsy, and he fumbled with his belt, shoving his trousers down just enough to break free, the air cool against his hot skin.

Mira grinned, all teeth and fire, and shifted, lining up before dropping onto him with one hard push. She gripped him tight, warm and wet despite the dry world outside, and Kade groaned, his head falling back against the bunk’s metal edge. She rode him rough, no messing around, her hips slamming down in a beat that matched the storm’s thud, fast and wild and fierce. Her hands pressed on his chest, nails digging in, leaving faint red scratches that blended with the dust, and she let out a low moan, a sound pulled straight from her gut, real and open. “That’s it,” he rasped, his grip tightening, steering her rhythm, his hips jerking up to match her, the bunk creaking louder with every move.

The rover rattled, wind pounding it, and dust drifted in, sticking to their bodies as they kept going, her hair a messy snarl, his shirt bunched up, their skin slick with sweat and grit. Mira leaned down, her lips brushing his ear, her breath hot and uneven. “Harder,” she growled, and he pushed up sharper, deeper, feeling her squeeze tighter, her moans climbing higher, filling the tight space. The storm’s red haze leaked through a cracked window, painting her in streaks of crimson, and Kade’s hands roamed, slipping under her jumpsuit to grab her ass, pushing her on as the heat between them burned hotter than the Martian sun.

She sat up, riding him with a fierce focus, her eyes locked on his, green and untamed, and the pressure coiled tight in his gut, building quick. But they weren’t done, not yet. The air buzzed with their gasps, the bunk’s frame shaking, and the storm outside roared like it was cheering them on, watching their truce turn into something rougher, something alive under the red sky.

The rover’s bunk whined like it was about to give up, trembling under Mira’s steady pace as she moved on Kade, holding him tight with every drop of her hips. Red dust floated around them, kicked up by their motion, sticking to their skin in a gritty layer that shimmered in the shaky light. The storm outside slammed the hull, a wild howl of red that shook the cracked window, but inside, the warmth was theirs alone, all sweat and heavy breaths, survival twisting into something hungry. Mira’s jumpsuit hung loose, bunched at her waist, her chest rising and falling with each push, dusted red like she’d been painted by the planet. Kade’s hands gripped her hips, fingers pressing firm, his shirt shoved up to his chest, old scars catching the light as he met her rhythm, his hazel eyes fixed on her fierce green ones.

She leaned back, hands slipping off his chest to rest on his thighs, arching her back as she slowed down, pressing deep and deliberate. “Keep going,” she growled, her voice rough, almost swallowed by the storm’s noise, and Kade’s jaw clenched, his stomach tightening as she nudged him closer to losing it. He reached over beside the bunk, brushing past a pile of scavenged stuff, tools, a busted canteen, and a dried Martian cactus spine, its sharp tip glinting faintly. He grabbed it, the rough edge scratching his palm, and ran it lightly up her back, tracing her spine through the open jumpsuit. It left faint red lines on her skin, not cutting but sharp enough to bite, and Mira let out a low, throaty sound, her head tipping back as the sting sank in.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she muttered, her hips picking up speed, sparked by the little jolt, and Kade grinned, rough and tight, sliding the spine higher, teasing the back of her neck before tossing it aside with a clunk. Her breaths turned sharp, spilling into the rover’s cramped air, and she sat up, driving down on him again, quick and hard, her nails dragging across his chest, leaving stinging marks that mixed with the dust. Kade’s hands slid back to her ass, holding on tight, and he pushed up with all he had, the bunk creaking louder, matching their ragged sounds. “Getting there,” he grunted, voice rough, and Mira’s eyes lit up, her grin wild as she tightened around him, pushing him right to the edge.

The heat hit hard, a rush that tore through him, and Kade let go, spilling inside her, warm and thick, his whole body shaking with it. Mira gasped, squeezing him close, pulling it all out, and she kept moving, slower now, stretching it out as his breath came in short bursts. He sank back, chest heaving, hands still on her hips, and she leaned down, her lips brushing his ear, her voice a husky whisper. “Not bad, hunter,” she teased, then slid off him with a soft sound, his mess trailing down her thigh as she shifted to kneel beside him on the dusty floor.

Before he could catch his wind, Mira settled next to the bunk, her knees sinking into the red sand. She tilted her head back, a smirk tugging her lips, and let loose, a warm stream hitting the sand beside him with a quiet hiss, turning it a deeper rust. It pooled there, a rough little mark under the red glow sneaking through the window, and Kade watched, chest still thumping, a scratchy laugh slipping out. “Truce set, huh?” he said, voice worn, and she grinned, wiping her hands on her jumpsuit as she stood, the fabric falling back into place, beat-up and streaked.

The storm’s roar eased off, its worst blowing past, and the rover quieted down, dust still drifting lazy in the air. Mira nudged the cactus spine aside with her boot, stepping over to the console to grab the canteen, taking a slow sip before tossing it his way. Kade caught it, drinking deep, the water washing out the grit in his throat as he sat up, trousers still bunched at his knees. “You’re a tough one, Kell,” he said, wiping his mouth, and she laughed again, quick and easy, leaning against the wall with a laid-back swagger.

“And you’re a stubborn chaser,” she shot back, her green eyes glinting, softer now but still sharp. The rover’s light settled, stretching their shadows across the floor, long and messy, and outside, the crimson sky loomed, huge and hard. Their truce stuck, for the moment, scratched out in sand and sweat, a quick breather in the Martian dust.