by Cynthia Sax
“Are you damaged, my Win?” Vern cupped her chin, his eyes reflecting his concern.
“I’m not damaged,” she whispered, her gaze darting between Bill and Vern. “I’m lying to Bill. This is how I look when I lie.”
Vern frowned. “I do not like it.”
“Then I won’t ever lie to you.” She pressed her face into his rough right palm.
“I must rejoin the battle.” Excitement radiated from Miar, his eyes swirling quickly. “Where can I dispose of the female elder?”
“Had a little much to drink, has she?” Bill opened one of the limousine’s rear doors. “She can sit in here.” The Warrior carefully placed Professor Roberto inside the vehicle.
“I am escorting the females to their abode,” Vern declared.
Miar’s eye ridges lowered.
“If the Mravenecs follow the Earth vehicle, the females will be defenseless,” Vern explained, his face hard with determination.
“You speak like a Ruler, Fixer Vern Zajac.” Miar nodded. “We will retrieve you once we are victorious.” The warrior slid two small guns from the black leather holsters strapped around his body and he charged into the forest.
“I am a Fixer, not a Ruler,” Vern grumbled. He guided Win into the back of the limousine, the confined space smelling of baby powder-scented deodorizer.
Win moved along the luxurious black leather seats. Vern pulled her closer, sliding her onto his lap, the hard ridge in his flight suit vibrating against her ass.
“Are we returning to the motel, Doctor Tilsdale?” Bill asked, his expression once again professional.
Win glanced at Vern and he shrugged. “Yes, please, Bill,” she decided.
After the battle finished, Vern’s people would collect him and they’d likely never return to Earth, this first encounter being a disaster. Until the battle was over, he was hers.
Win splayed her fingers over his chest. She wouldn’t waste one second of their remaining time together.
Chapter Four
Vern didn’t relax until the human male, Bill, his potential rival, closed the door and the quaint Earth vehicle began to move, the multiple-ass support under him vibrating. “He will not touch you again.”
“He never touched me.” His Win hopped off his lap and sidled closer to Fixer Imogen Roberto. “She’s so still. That can’t be healthy, my Vern. We should go to the hospital, have her checked out.”
“She is in a deep sleep.” Vern grasped his Win’s waist and returned her to her rightful place, in his arms. “She will awake when your single sun rises.”
His Win turned and gazed up at him, her glorious brown hair curling around her beautiful face, her generous curves soft against his hard form. “Promise me she’ll be okay.”
“I promise you.” He captured her countenance between his hands. His Win’s skin was pale and her eyes were an exotic brown, peaceful and still. “Damaging Fixer Imogen Roberto would damage you. I would never damage you.” Vern brushed his mouth against hers. She sighed sweet surrender, her breath caressing his lips, and she opened to him, allowing him inside her hot mouth.
He explored with his tongue, learning her, treasuring his druzka. She tasted of mentha, her flavor as crisp as a Silan sunrise, and her teeth were adorably small and blunt. They’d barely be able to break his skin.
She slid her tongue along his, her delicate stroking hitching his breath. Vern cupped her head, holding her to him, as their tongues danced, finding a rhythm common to their two worlds. His time with the simulator females hadn’t prepared him for this, for the wild pounding of his heart, the press of her right thigh against his achingly hard spicka, the indent of her fingers on his chest ridges.
He wanted her fingers on his bare skin. Without breaking their kiss, Vern yanked on his flight suit, ripping the garment open. His Win gasped and he swallowed the sound, taking that piece of her into his body. He grasped her wrist, placed her palm on his exposed chest and shuddered, her touch exquisite, right, his.
“What if Professor Roberto wakes up?” His Win glided her fingertips along his chest, navigating the crests, the hollows, the curves of his muscles.
“Fixer…Professor Roberto will not wake up.” Vern throbbed with a painful wanting, the ecstasy too much, too real after solar cycles of dreaming, waiting, craving. Every call through the human’s world wide web had been torture, being able to see his druzka and not touch her, smell her.
He inhaled, breathing in the scent of her hot pussy, the musk of her desire, and a growl clawed up his chest, the primitive sound vibrating his lips.
“Bill could be watching us.” His Win glanced toward the front of the vehicle. “The partition is open.”
“He can watch us.” Vern caught her chin between his thumb and index finger and turned her head, returning her gaze to him, where it belonged. “He will not touch you. You are mine.”
“Yes.” His Win’s eyes sparkled. “Let Bill watch.” She straddled his waist, hiking her knee-length ass garment around her waist, revealing more pale skin, soft curves, delectable female. “This is like one of my experiments.”
“This is like nothing I have ever experienced.” Vern cupped her ass. Although all of his Win was magnificent, her ass was exceptional, full and round and perfect for his big hands. He squeezed her curves as she rocked against him, her warmth felt through the layers of fabric.
“Ohhh…” she moaned, the sound making him crazed. “Your cock is vibrating at the exact right tempo, the rim rubbing against my clit.” She dropped her head back, her curls cascading down her spine. “It feels so good.”
“I will make it feel better.” Vern reached between them and twisted his fingers around her thin pussy covering, tearing the fabric, freeing her wild private hair from its confines. He rubbed his Win’s juices over his flight suit, branding himself with her scent, her heat. She curled her small fingers over his shoulders, pulling herself closer. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.
“Skin,” she panted, her face flushed, her eyes shining.
“Yes.” He tore at his clothes, shredding them. His Win eagerly assisted him, brushing the remnants away. Finally he was nude, only his boots remaining on his feet. He pressed her against him.
“Oh.” Her eyes widened and her spine straightened. “Vern.”
“Your Vern,” he corrected, lifting her up and down, sliding her wet pussy along his spicka. With each downward stroke, he ensured his shaft ridges bumped against her pleasure button, the contact causing her to writhe and make sex noises.
“My Vern,” his Win repeated. As she repeated her claim again and again, her voice growing louder, her grip on his shoulders tightening, heat spread across Vern’s chest. It was a damage he had no desire to fix, a damage he embraced.
A trickle of sweat dripped along his nose, pooling in the seam of his lips, the taste of salt flavoring his mouth. His varles throbbed, his seed seeking release. Vern forced himself to concentrate on his female’s pleasure, wishing to bind her to him through sexual satisfaction. She was close to fulfillment, her plush mouth open and her thighs shaking.
“Need…you inside me.” His Win clutched his shoulders, attempting to rise upward, to impale herself upon him. She was too small, lacking the strength, and she huffed, her frustration adorably obvious.
Vern’s lips lifted, his heart lightening. She wanted him, Fixer Vern Zajac, a Fixer deemed not yet worthy of bonding, a Fixer with unnatural interest in other statuses. He assisted his druzka, positioning her above his spicka.
“You’re huge.” She wrapped her fingers around his vibrating shaft, her grip delightfully secure. “Let’s take this slowly.”
“I will not damage you.” He lowered her. His tip entered her wet heat, her body stretching around his. She sucked in her breath and he stopped. “My Win?” Vern searched her face for damage. Her lips were white, lines etched around her mouth. I have damaged my Win. Despair gripped his heart. “I am too big.” He moved her higher.
“No.” She wiggled out of his h
ands and plunged downward, her warmth engulfing him, her screams filling the vehicle. Vern caught her before she reached his base.
His Win closed her eyes and leaned forward. He met her halfway, resting his forehead against hers. They sat in silence, Vern’s spicka partially buried in Win’s pussy, his face pressed against her smooth skin, their breaths entwining.
“I damaged you.” His voice sounded strangled to his own hearing system.
“That was my fault,” she whispered. “I prepared my ass for your big cock.” She squirmed and he increased his clasp on her sumptuous curves. “I should have also prepared my pussy.” His Win opened her eyes. “You’re huge and I haven’t had sex in a while.”
“I will fix that damage,” he vowed. “We will have sex often.”
“We’ll have to have sex often.” Her lips curled into a smile and the tight band around Vern’s heart eased. “I’m an astrobiologist specializing in sexuality and reproduction. The other scientists will assume I know all about Silan sex.”
“You will only have sex with this Silan.” Vern brushed his lips against hers.
His Win nipped at his bottom lip, her playfulness enchanting him. “I can extrapolate my experience as I observe the others.” She squeezed his spicka with her pussy. “I’m ready to take the rest of you now, my Vern.”
He lowered her slowly, resisting the urge to thrust upward, to claim her quickly. Her pussy fit him perfectly, hugging his shaft, their two bodies being one.
“Are you certain we’re compatible?” His Win dug her fingernails into his skin, the pain heightening his pleasure.
“Fixer Veterellec Lorenski and Breaker Cathy Lorenski are compatible. They will soon have offspring.” Vern sought to distract his druzka with news of other Silan-human pairings.
“Is the offspring a girl or boy?” his Win huffed, her face red.
“There has not been a girl offspring on Sila in many solar cycles.” Vern’s base touched her pussy lips and he sighed with contentment. “We are compatible.” She had taken all of him. There was no damage, only perfection.
“I have a big green-and-blue alien cock inside me.” His Win beamed, her beauty causing the heat in his chest to spread. “No other scientist on the planet can claim that.” She gazed over her shoulder. “I hope Bill is watching.” Her pussy tightened around Vern’s spicka and he groaned. “He can prove my claim.”
“You will soon have my seed inside you.” Vern rolled his hips, unable to remain still, the pleasure too much to bear. “That will provide further proof.” He reached between them and pressed down on her clit, pushing the nub against his vibrating shaft.
“Ohhhh…” His Win moaned, his druzka wonderfully expressive. “Yes, fill me, my Vern.” She grasped his shoulders and swiveled, grinding on him.
Vern gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to come, wanting to please his female first. He rubbed her clit with his thumb and thrust upward, lifting his ass off the black leather multi-ass support.
His Win bounced on top of him, her curves contained by the tight garment she wore. The garment would have to remain on her form. Vern was too far gone to remove it, all of his focus on her pussy, her ass and his spicka. Her juices dripped down his shaft, between his varles, her scent hanging in the air.
She clutched his neck as he snapped his hips, driving deep into her. Her arms and thighs shook, tremors rocking her entire body. His Win panted and Vern grunted, both of them past intelligent speech in any language.
They rutted, Fixer and scientist, Silan and human, male and female, determined to reach sexual satisfaction together. Vern reached upward, grasped his Win’s right hand and guided her pale fingertips to her clit.
“Yes.” She arched her back, her hair grazing his knees, the tendrils sinfully soft. “Yes.” She repeated this affirmation over and over, tapping her fingers to the rhythm of his thrusts. Her pussy constricted, passion winding tighter and tighter around them, fraying his control, stripping his defenses. He couldn’t last. He couldn’t.
“My Vern.” She raked his back with her fingernails, the pain breaking him.
“My Win,” Vern roared, driving upward, unable to contain his release. She screamed, clenching down on him, her rapture ratcheting his higher. He poured everything he had, all of the desire hoarded over a lifetime of abstinence, into her supple body, giving her a part of him he’d never given another being. She milked his spicka with her inner muscles, greedily wanting more.
He didn’t have more to give her. Drained of all energy, all passion, Vern sagged against his Win, relying upon his smaller female to hold him upright. She didn’t bend and she didn’t break, taking his weight as she’d taken his spicka, fearlessly.
“My druzka,” he murmured, overcome with emotion. She was his. He was hers.
Win ran her palms down Vern’s back, her mind numbed by the best orgasm she’d ever experienced. I fucked my alien. His cock remained semi-hard inside her, the vibrations slowing to a gentle oscillation. Her inner scientist screamed to document, document, document. The woman inside her wished to savor the moment, to feel rather than to think.
Because he was more than her alien. He was Vern, a male she’d spent hours talking with, laughing over silly things, discussing cultural differences, flirting outrageously. I care for him. She pressed her lips to his shoulder and sucked on his skin, tasting salt and him. I care for him too much. He mumbled Silan words, his voice low and deep. And when the battle ends, he’ll leave me, return to his own planet. I’ll never see him again.
His body stiffened. Vern raised his head. “The vehicle has terminated motion.”
Win forced a smile. “We must have arrived at the motel.” She scrambled off his lap, smoothed down her skirt. He remained unabashedly naked, his flight suit shredded. His cock moved, his shaft large, colorful and gleaming with her juices.
Win licked her bottom lip and his vibrations increased in intensity. “You can’t leave the limousine naked.” Her voice was husky, her passions revived. “Stay here and I’ll get you something to wear.”
Vern’s eye ridges lowered, his lips turning downward. “You will be unprotected.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
He bent over, the muscles in his back rippling, and he retrieved one of his tiny space guns. “Take this.” Vern placed the weapon in her hands and closed her fingers around the metal grip. “Tap the green button to shoot.”
“That’s all I have to do?” Her hands shook. “What if I accidentally touch the button? I’ll shoot someone, kill him.”
“I will make shooting more difficult for you.” Vern slid a lever on the side of the barrel toward her. “Slide and then tap.”
“That’s better.” The tension in Win’s body eased, her shoulders lowering. Vern, in contrast, appeared more apprehensive, his face flushed with blue pigment.
“Bill wouldn’t have stopped here if it wasn’t safe.” Win leaned toward her big alien, brushed her lips over his, seeking to ease his fears. The door opened and cold air rushed over them. “I’ll be back soon.”
Win ignored Bill’s knowing smirk as she exited. She peered to the left and to the right. The area around the motel was deserted, crickets chirping, pine branches rustling. The sky directly above her was clear and dark. There was no sign of spaceships or off-world enemies.
The Silans will come for Vern soon. Win rushed to her room, unlocked the door, set the scary space gun on the desk and searched the interior frantically for something, anything that would fit her much larger alien. There was nothing, only the comforter and bedsheets.
Win grabbed the top sheet, the cotton soft against her fingers, and she returned to the limousine. “Here.” She handed the sheet to Vern. “Wrap this around you.” She helped him arrange the white cotton, crafting a makeshift toga encompassing his massive form. The fabric tented around his erection. “Are you always like this?” She gestured at his groin.
“You make me like this.” Vern grinned, displaying sharp pointed teeth. “I will t
ransport Fixer Imogen Roberto to her sleeping support.” He gathered the unconscious woman in his arms, carefully handling her as though she was fragile, and Win’s heart squeezed.
“Address her as Professor Roberto,” she advised brusquely, opening the door. “And we call sleeping supports beds.”
“Beds,” he repeated.
“Doesn’t look like you need one.” Bill grinned.
Vern glared at him. The driver gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and his grin faded. Win touched Vern’s arm, distracting her overprotective male. “Follow me.” She hurried to the professor’s room and unlocked it. She’d asked for the spare key to every room she’d reserved, having prepared the welcome packages for the guests she’d thought she’d host.
“Your sleeping supports…beds are small.” Vern lowered Professor Roberto to the mattress.
“My bed is larger.” Win focused on removing the professor’s clunky shoes, not wanting to explain why she’d asked for a room with a king-size bed. “We’ll leave her clothes on. It’ll be uncomfortable but she won’t appreciate us undressing her. I’ve never seen Professor Roberto without her cardigan.” She forced herself to stop babbling.
Vern drifted his fingertips over the professor’s furrowed forehead. “She has great damage.” As he stroked back and forth, back and forth, his green-and-blue gaze fixed on the older woman’s face, the skin on her forehead flattened and the lines around her mouth and eyes eased.
“What did you do?” Win whispered, brushing her shoulder against his.
“I fixed her damage.” Vern straightened, placed his arm around Win’s waist, his body heat encircling her. “She has gone many planet rotations without a sleep cycle.” He frowned. “Why did your Fixers…your doctors allow her damage to remain?”
“She had insomnia?” Win stared at her mentor. “I didn’t know.” She had been so concerned with restoring her reputation, proving her worth to complete strangers, she hadn’t taken care of the sole person on this planet who had believed in her.