by Olivia Myers
Was she imagining the note of anguish underneath the taunt? She was tempted to reply in kind with "All of them," but couldn't bring herself to do that. A seed of hope grew. Could he be jealous? It had never occurred to her. But if so....
He growled, "Never mind. I don't want to know. Bye."
This man. She stomped her foot. "Vector! Don't you dare leave now!"
"Larissa, I'm warning you one more time. Cover those tits up, or I'm going to tie your hair around them and then around your wrists and then around those chair balusters and—"
"Do it, then," she whispered. "And get rid of that flaj while you're at it."
"Really? You want to see me without the flaj? You want it? All right, Larissa. Hold tight. Here you go." He began to walk toward her. His clothing fell from his body, starting with the black bodysuit and boots. By the time he'd reached her, his hand was at his throat. In a flash, he'd ripped off his artificial skin. By then, he was microns away, too close for her to get more than an impression of a blur of pale green. He grabbed for her.
The touch of his hand wasn't rough and moist, as she'd half expected. It was smooth and dry. She stepped back from it. He yanked her forward. She squirmed and pried herself away, then was forced back again, so close to his body she could feel the heat of him like fire.
"Stop fighting me," he bit out. "I could hurt you if you fight, you know that."
"I'm not trying to fight. I'm trying to get a good look at you," she retorted. "Stop pulling me so close, so I can see you." Abruptly his rigid hold eased. She leaned back as far as she could. It was enough. It was Vector. The real one.
Transfixed did not begin to cover it. Hypnotized. Novas in space, those eyes. Liquid blue, slitted, and far more human in shape than the low-res bioplay had shown.
To her relief, those Resstessian eyes revealed his mood as well as any human's could. They said he was wary and furious.
An ache clenched deep in her sex.
She reached up and touched his face.
Green was not the word. His scales were more like soft shell than anything else, half-transparent, so very tiny and each one a different color, together giving the effect of iridescent, shimmering green. They felt almost smooth on his angular cheekbone. She trailed the back of her hand down his neck and found the scales on his chest were larger, rougher. They almost had a velvety feel.
"Seen enough?"
His mouth was twisted in a sneer that revealed his sharp, pointed teeth. Not a lizard's teeth, she thought dizzily. A dragon's. Like in the old-world tales.
She registered the sensuous curve of his lips. A shudder took her body, rippled up her spine. A helpless sound escaped her.
This was too much. She had not expected this.
She took a step back. Gulped. "Uh, Vector—"
He followed. "You want to stop now? All done? But I thought you wanted me as I am. What do you think of my hair? Want to feel it?" He grabbed her hand. "There, you're feeling it. Like the color? No, don't stop now. Step back, Larissa. Take a good look. Here." He turned his back to her, swept his arms out to the sides.
Her jaw dropped. With his arms spread out like that, she was sure he was a dragon. Or a phoenix. Or something mythological. His torso was long, lean, and so muscled she could hardly take it in. All those ripples! She'd swear on anything that the Resstessian body had double the number of muscles as a human’s. No wonder he was surprised she couldn't stop her orgasm at will.
And all covered in film-thin scales—arms, back, legs. On his back they were broad, sweeping ones that shaped down in narrowing triangles to his...oh, dear stars. Was that what she thought it was...?
She stepped forward and reached out. It was. A tail. It twitched when she touched it. It was neat, short, and triangular, ending in an arrow right below the cleft of his buttocks began. So well groomed, in fact, that it was strangely reminiscent of a man's goatee.
He swirled around and advanced. There was no time to back up. He had her in his arms and he was crushing her—then he let go.
"Had enough? Good. About time." He looked wildly around and somehow she just knew he was intending to don his flajec again. It was obvious he'd be out of here as soon as he was dressed.
"No!" she panicked. "Don't put it back on! What are you thinking? You know you're—you're perfectly—and—"
This wasn't going very well. She didn't know what to do. She thought seriously of just throwing herself at him and knocking him down to the floor and having her way with him.
And then her gaze fell....
Her arm was halfway up before she remembered that pointing was rude. "Wha- what—is that?"
"That?" His voice was thick with disbelief. "That? You want to know what that is?" His facial scales stood out sharply, and she saw exactly what a furious Resstessian looked like. "That's my cock, Larissa. What did you think it was? After all the aliens you've scored by now, surely this is nothing odd to you. At least I have a fucking ball sac. We're not that far different species, you know."
"But—it's too—no, it's—well, hellborne novas."
The thing was huge. Enormous. Impossible. And slightly odd, besides.
Instead of being smooth, with a bulbous tip, as she had perhaps unreasonably expected, his cock was oddly textured—piped, with vertical corrugations running along its length. The end was puckered instead of slitted. It was pinkish-brown, so that was fine. And at least it had no scales. But still...
"I can't do it," she whispered. "I'm nowhere near that big." She looked at him with dark, grieving eyes. "You'd tear me open."
His mouth opened. Closed. Then he laughed shortly. "No, I wouldn't. On the contrary. You have no idea, do you?" He sighed. Flared his nostrils. "Here goes."
As she watched, some of the corrugations on the surface of his cock began to slide down. She let out a scream of surprise, then swiftly covered her own mouth. Layer by layer, the outer ridges of his cock retracted, until they had disappeared into his body, leaving another ridged surface. When that was done, his diameter was what Larissa considered far more reasonable, although it was still far too long...
Then the whole rest of it began to retract together.
Larissa's hand pressed her mouth harder. This was unreal. Positively bizarre. Thankfully, it stopped before going too far. She blinked. Now she was looking at what she thought of as a very well-endowed erection with a ridged, slightly odd-shaped penis.
"Better?"
"Much better." She exhaled.
He was panting. She saw the energy his efforts had cost him. "Now have you had enough?" he demanded.
"No. Why are you like that?"
He sighed. "What does it matter? You and I both know you're not letting that thing inside you, don't we? I've always known that. You talk a good game, Larissa, but—"
"Vector, you're wrong. I just want to know."
"You really want a biology lesson right now? Touch it," he challenged. "Hands-on is always the best way to learn."
Trembling, she went to him and reached out with her hand. She could see he didn't believe she'd do it.
It was not as hot as she had feared it would be. The skin felt far smoother and softer. She ran her fingers all around its arced length, squeezed and said, "Hey, ouch!"
"What's wrong?"
"It's not squishy at all."
"Sorry." He didn't sound it.
She probed the blunt tip, then gave a little shriek as a part of him peeled back. She jerked away. "I tore you!"
He shook his head. "It's not one solid piece. They're tubes."
"Tubes."
"Yes, at least the outer part. There's a solid inner tube in there, but it's not very thick." He sounded almost matter-of-fact, but the low rumble in his voice gave away how little he liked this conversation.
"Look," he said. "I already told you our women make eggs. Well, each egg hatches a different child. Genetically different."
"How?" she said incredulously. "I mean, humans have fraternal twins, but not like that."
&
nbsp; "Each tube in the Resstessian penis makes different sperm," he said patiently as though to a child. "A woman typically makes a dozen different eggs in one cycle. The number of tubes in any mating determines the number of different genetic combinations and to a certain extent the number of eggs that will be fertilized. The innermost tubes have no sperm in the semen. The outermost tubes have the most sperm. One fuck. Twelve kids. Easy. High genetic diversity. Important in our case."
When not all the children survive, she recalled. She said slowly, "So in order to stop a woman becoming pregnant, you just...retract the outermost tubes. Kind of a natural form of birth control?"
"More or less."
"But what about—well—interspecies sex?"
"That's a little different," he admitted. "There's no problem if most of the tubes are retracted."
"Like that?" She touched him again.
"Yes."
"And if they're not?"
"Then it had better be in the ass," he said bluntly. "Because you would conceive."
"Oh." She decided she did not want to go where those thoughts took her.
He was showing his teeth. "It's time, Larissa. Last chance to run." Each of his hands slid a chunk of her long black hair through his. His hands...Larissa's eyes bulged.
"You do have...."
"I keep them filed. They're also retractable. Fully." He showed her.
She remembered when his fingers were inside her sex. Had the flaj disguised those claws, or had they been the cause of those amazing sensations? She was suddenly eager to find out.
Something impish made her tease him. "Maybe I should run. After all, well, claws. I don't think I can handle claws."
The blues of his eyes darkened as the slits of his pupils widened. All desire to tease him fled at that look. Her mouth watered. Her breasts peaked. Her sex swelled.
He sprang. One moment she was standing before him, the next she was on the floor. He was on her, pressing her down so she couldn't move one finger. The sensations swamped her—the almost velvety roughness and hardness of his torso scales, the slicker ones on the inside of his arms.
And the heat. His body temperature had to be a good five degrees hotter than her own. She wanted to know if his scales had blood vessels or just transmitted the heat from his flesh. But the time for asking questions had passed.
His cock was stabbing at her. Its warmth drove her crazy. She wanted closer to it. She wanted closer to everything. He had to know it, too, as they could both hear the whimpers coming from her throat.
His mouth came open onto hers. Larissa felt the slick heat of his tongue, then probed tentatively into his mouth in return—and quickly retreated. His teeth were sharp.
"Be careful," he gritted. "I tongue you. You don't tongue me. We're not equal in this."
That made her shudder. They weren't equal in any of it, she thought.
"I don't care. Just put your cock inside me," she breathed. "Don't wait. I've wanted you there since, stars, Vector, since I woke up to your bioplay. Please."
He made a fierce sound against her breast. "Don't move," he said. His teeth came out and very, very carefully surrounded the nipple. Tiny needlepricks made tears spring to her eyes. It was on the edge of hurting. Abruptly her nipple was sucked into his mouth and the strong, soft suckling made her gasp.
"Vector, didn't you hear me? I want—"
His legs widened, forcing hers apart, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She felt herself drench with fluids, open, throb.
But all he did was take her clit between his fingertips and squeeze. His fingers twisted and she felt the scrape of his claws.
"No," she moaned and flung her head to the side.
His mouth popped off the nipple. "Damn, you're soaking. Your clit is so hard. Larissa, does it hurt?"
"No, yes. No. Just come inside me, please."
But he just said, "Keep talking," and returned to suckling her breast. Soon she was yelling, demanding that he stop teasing her. Every time he lifted his head and looked at her, she felt his ferocious satisfaction. He was enjoying this, damn his scales.
She could feel his cock rubbing against her vulva, sliding back and forth in a rhythm. Swiftly she reached down and tried to push it where she wanted it.
"How many men have there really been, Larissa? Tell me the truth. I won't go nova on you, even if you've fucked the whole damn galaxy."
"None, you stupid man." Her hips thrust, seeking his cock. There! She'd managed to capture—no. The tip wasn't pointed to probe. She'd have to wait for him to come around to lodging himself there. Unless...
She reached down and grabbed his flesh. Squeezed and squeezed, for all the good it did—there was just no give. He lifted his head and looked down, obviously interested in what she was doing but nowhere near as wild as she'd expect a man to be. If pressure didn't do it for him, what would it take...?
Suddenly she got a clue. He'd seemed to relish any contact with her wetness. So she lifted up and aided him. His eyes darkened and his lips opened. Then with her hands, she smeared her fluids all over every bit of him. "Larissa," he said hoarsely. He rose up on his arms and his hands pinned hers down. This was his mounting. Yes.
His cock slowly entered her. Despite the care he'd taken to size down, she still felt stretched almost painfully. Almost. Just barely. Mostly it was all pleasure.
"So wet," he rumbled. "That's good."
Apparently, it was very good, because he wasn't a short fuck. They rolled together on the floor for almost an hour, while Larissa found herself pleasured out of her senses, in whatever way he felt like, always pounding inside her, frequently demanding she tell him if this hurt or that hurt.
It was the first time she'd made love to a man while focusing more on her own sensations than his. By the time he came, she was feeling almost guilty. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd climaxed, each as powerful as the first. No tapering here. She had no idea what the previous human women he'd taken to bed were thinking; how could they have gotten more pain than pleasure from Vector? He was the antithesis of casual fuck.
Only when she began to slow down herself, did Vector bring it to an end. That low sound she recognized rumbled from his throat, and his body began to tremble. His scales pricked her skin all down the front. Every nerve in her body focused on him. He was expanding inside her. Not just a little, but a scary lot. Heat and pressure burst inside her and a brand new sensation gripped her and then exploded. What the hell was that? Some kind of cervical orgasm?
He shouted, shuddered, and kept thrusting—and thrusting—and she really could feel his ejaculate. The breath got knocked out of her a couple of times, but only for a few moments. She could live with it. “Will your…sprayseed…burn me?”
“No,” he said. “Your vaginal walls are safe; it just hurts your outer skin.”
When he finally slid out, he kept his softened flesh against hers and, turning his head, set in to a session of suckling her breasts that made her want to sob with happiness.
Much, much later, she started feeling normal again. She found her breath was still a little short in supply, but that didn't bother her too much. What was somewhat worrisome was how wet she was all over, with her own sweat and who-knows-what else. Vector was dabbing her with her clothes, wiping her thighs, and licking her navel.
He looked satisfied. "You're a wet pet, you know that? That's probably about the only thing saving you." He trailed one claw up her thigh, across her belly, up to her lips. She grabbed the tip instinctively with her teeth.
"Wet pet?"
"Just a figure of speech."
"There's no saving me now," she said. "Not from you."
His Resstessian eyes narrowed. "Good. I'm glad you see that. Then you'll come home with me tonight. And you might as well move your stuff to my place tomorrow."
"Your unit?"
"It's where I live."
Move in with him. Give up her fancy penthouse. Become the woman of an alien.
"If I do, will you fi
nally admit that a human and a Resstessian can be in a relationship happily together?"
"Maybe. If you're not too annoying."
"Well, that's easy. Just keep your mouth shut, and we'll get along fine!"
She was gratified to learn that he did know how to smile.
The End
Pleasure In the Stars
Natalie looked at her work friends, Jackie and Moona, and sighed as she gratefully let her suitcase bounce heavily onto the hotel bed. "My problem, you see, is that I'm shy."
"You, shy. Really?" Jackie retorted, tossing her blond curls. "Would someone who's supposed to be shy just up and claim the only bed with a magnificent view? I was the one who reserved this gorgeous suite, at the most luxurious hotel on the shore, in the most exquisite mecca of delight in this arm of the galaxy. I think I deserve the window bed at least. Look at the ocean!"
Natalie glanced out at the vast green water tinted with pink, but kept coming back to the curving, elegant lines of the domed and arched buildings on the shoreline—hotels, restaurants, theaters, and shopping. Unlike at home, here it was the man-made tourist attractions, not the natural surroundings, that drew the eye.
"Why you and not me?" Moona interjected, collapsing on the middle bed and stretching, a big smile on her wide lips. "I made the flight reservations. Do you know how hard it is to get comfortable seats on any ship headed this way at this time of year? It's right in the middle of the big pleasure season."
"New Saigon doesn't have a pleasure season," Natalie said automatically. "It's a city of perpetual pleasure, so I've heard. That's why it's always hard to book reservations here."
"Wow, you were serious that you haven't ever been here before, weren't you?" Moona asked.
Natalie shook her head and tried not to blush. It wasn’t her fault if she wasn’t particularly well-traveled. She pried open her suitcase and then stopped and stared. Had she really bought those swimsuits on some kind of crazy, impulsive shopping spree? Those dresses? What had she been thinking she was going to do while on vacation with her work friends? She wouldn't reveal that kind of skin to her mother. What made her think she could bring herself to reveal it to a bunch of holiday-goers she didn't even know?