by Lizzy Bequin
“Rogar…”
The shadows of the jungle seem to swirl around me as I am lifted off the ground. I’m totally disoriented. When I finally get my bearings, I realize that Rogar is now lounging on his back, holding my helpless body above him like a limp doll.
I glance down and see his jutting cock pointing skyward.
He didn’t come inside me. A wave of relief washes over me, but it is tinged with a totally inappropriate hint of regret.
Then I start to drop slowly.
Rogar isn’t finished with me yet.
I cry out as his pole impales me once again. This time, my hole swallows him much more easily. My entrance is oozing with arousal, and my inner thighs are slathered with my own thick cream.
“Careful,” I whimper as he lowers me farther and farther onto his shaft.
My arms and legs are too weak and wobbly from coming to support myself. I’m relying on Rogar’s strength to hold me steady.
His cock slides farther into my depths.
I wince in anticipation of that painful bump against my cervix, but it doesn’t come. Instead, it’s the ticklish sensation of that small tongue-like appendage licking at my insides again.
“Oh…fuck.” The words come out of me in a shuddering, stuttering moan.
Rogar carefully lowers me even deeper, bringing me down a millimeter at a time, until his tip is nudging against my cervix, but this time gently enough that it doesn’t hurt.
I yelp and mewl as a strange pressure builds inside—Rogar’s cockhead is flaring again, stretching my inner depths and flattening against my back wall, massaging me there as the skinny tongue continues its lapping.
“Rogar,” I whimper, “what’s happening?”
I’m scared now. But I can’t deny that it feels good.
Too good.
He doesn’t answer me, of course. His strong arms ease me back until I’m reclining against him like some kind of naughty lounge chair.
He starts to move in me again, fucking me with long, deep strokes, rubbing against my sensitive epicenter with each thrust.
“It feels so good,” I moan.
He keeps pumping me, not thrusting into me so much as moving my whole body like his own personal fuck toy as I squeal and squirm on top of him, dripping with sweat.
One big hand delves between my legs, rolling the tingling bud of my clit to match the bumps and ridges pleasuring my spot inside. His other hand kneads my breast, strumming and plucking my achingly hard nipple.
I gasp on an inhale at the sudden sensation of suction, as his head latches on to me inside.
This may be my first time, but I paid attention in sex ed, and I know it’s not supposed to go down like this—not for humans, anyway.
“Oh God,” I whisper as I feel yet another unexpected sensation.
It’s that small, flexible tongue, and it’s working it’s way inside my cervix. Somehow, it’s painlessly penetrating past my inner ring, trespassing all the way to my uterus, and it feels like nothing I’ve ever imagined.
It feels amazing.
But I realize what it is now. It’s not a tongue.
It’s a tube.
“Rogar, wait,” I cry, “We can’t do this!”
I struggle on top of him, trying to get away, but his cock is flared and suctioned inside of me. It feels like I would tear my pussy apart if I tried to pull away now, so I don’t.
There’s nothing to do but succumb to his body and his alien cock and the overwhelming sensations that are coming at me from every angle: His fingers strumming my tingling clit. His ribbed shaft buffing my sensitive spot. His head sucking and massaging my cervix.
And that other appendage, penetrating all the way to my innermost depths.
Rogar roars as a pulse travels up his shaft, and he releases inside me, spilling his seed directly into my womb, spurt after spurt of thick fluid coating my interior.
I manage to scream his name once before all of the sensations converge, and I am washed away on an incomprehensible tide of pleasure.
It reminds me of the frightening sensation when Rogar beamed me up to his ship from the roof of the San Diego convention center.
But this is different. This time, I’m not alone.
Rogar is here with me, though it’s hard to tell where he ends and I begin. And this time it doesn’t hurt. It is like being tossed in a churning foam of pleasure. A singularity of pure bliss.
Reality slowly comes back in bits and pieces. A steady up and down motion that is my mate’s chest rising and falling with breath. The hot pulse of his cock still pumping his abundant semen into my womb. The rasp of his voice in my ear whispering words of affection in an alien tongue.
“Rogar,” I repeat again and again.
My lips are unable to form any other word. My mind is incapable of any other coherent thought.
Ever so gently, Rogar rolls us both onto our sides on the bed of jungle leaves, spooning me and holding me tight. An irresistible surge of bone-deep exhaustion overtakes me, and I drift off just like that, with his arms coiled around me like protective serpents, and his long, thick cock still buried deep inside.
CHAPTER 21: ROGAR
I pass the night in a state of half sleep as my cock continues to pulse inside the female, inseminating her, fertilizing her.
She whimpers delicately. Occasionally, her sleeping body trembles, and the walls of her channel flutter and squeeze around me as if milking my fluid. She is coming in her sleep.
Once or twice in the night, she half wakes, smiling sleepily and muttering soft gibberish. I kiss her back to sleep each time.
I still don’t understand exactly how it has happened. How my body has ordained this human female to be my mate.
But it matters not at all whether I understand or not. The ways of Fate surpass all understanding.
We are bound now. Just as we lie here tonight, tangled in each other’s bodies, so our spirits are forever intertwined.
She is my mate.
She will bear my brood.
Though we are different species, we are both descended from the ancient race of the Primogenitors. Many species of creatures in this galaxy are capable of interbreeding. Based on the way that my body has responded to Clare, it is clear that she is a fertile receptacle for my potent seed.
This is what I feared.
This changes everything.
There is absolutely no way I can deliver her to Lord Putrude now. My feelings for her go beyond protectiveness. Beyond possessiveness. To give her up now would be to give up a part of my own soul.
But that complicates matters with my brother.
I still have a duty to win his freedom, but I cannot buy it with the girl. I’ll have to find another way.
And then there is the matter of my helmet.
I have broken the Creed, and I must atone. But that will have to wait.
For now, the only thing that matters is the human female slumbering beside me.
I can sense the pulse of her bright, delicate life in my arms. The thumping of her small but strong heart. The expansion and contraction of her lungs as she breathes.
And all the while, my appendage oozes inside of her, filling her fertile depths with more and more of my seed.
PART THREE:
RESCUED
CHAPTER 22: CLARE
“I can’t see anything, Rogar.”
The alien warrior is holding me steady as I peer over the edge of the cargo bay door at the rear of the ship. The craft is tilted steeply with its nose aimed downhill. With the morning sun still low in the sky, the interior of the ship is dark, and it takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust. Gradually, I see all of the loose cargo inside the ship’s hold has collected it one big heap at the bottom.
“Oh yeah, that’s a pretty big mess,” I mutter. “Rogar, how in the world did you survive when this thing went over?”
His scaled body must be even tougher than I realized. He can obviously withstand an incredible amount of punishment.
Rogar shrugs and gently pulls me back from the edge, and we squat side by side. I shield my eyes against the morning sunlight angling in from the east over the treetops. High above us, the barren top of the plateau towers over us like a stone deity.
“Rogar, what are we going to do about the ship?”
I’m not sure why I’m saying “we.” I don’t even know how to change the oil on my Jetta back home, let alone repair a freaking spaceship. But I’m willing to help Rogar in any way that I can.
We’re partners now, and despite everything, that gives me a good feeling. Whatever happens in the days to come, at least I won’t have to face it alone.
Rogar scratches his neck below the edge of his helmet.
“Well, obviously the craft has settled at a less than optimal angle. It would be preferable if it had come to rest on level ground, but there’s nothing to be done about that now.”
His helmeted head turns slowly over the scene, appraising the wreck. Now that I’ve seen what he looks like, I can imagine his handsome face inside that helmet as his intelligent mind works through the problem.
“It may not matter,” he says at last. “As long as I can get the levitators online again, I should be able to move the ship out there into the grasslands to complete the repairs.”
He leans cautiously over the opening of the cargo hold again, bracing himself against the rim of the open door.
“But I’ll need to retrieve my tools and hardware, as well as supplies for us to survive as I make the repairs. It’s going to take days. Maybe even weeks.”
“I’ll help,” I offer weakly, not knowing what I’ll do exactly.
I remember when I was little, “helping” my dad work on the car. He always humored me, even when I was just getting in the way.
Rogar turns toward me, and I see my face reflected back in his cracked visor. My cheeks are a bit dirty from our outdoor adventures. Rogar pauses for a second, and I’m sure he must be thinking of a polite way to tell me to stay out of his way.
But to my surprise, he nods and says, “Okay.”
“Really?” I ask in disbelief, starting to wonder what I may have gotten myself into.
***
“All right!” Rogar shouts to me from the shadowy depths of the ship, “The crate is secure. Take her up.”
He flashes me a gauntleted thumbs-up signal.
I return the gesture and begin turning the handle of the mechanical winch, drawing up the long, sturdy rope that Rogar looped through a pulley and lashed around one of the supply crates below.
Even though the metal crate weighs hundreds of pounds, the winch allows me to raise it easily.
Okay, easily may be a bit of an overstatement—I’m dripping sweat at this point, but still, I’m fairly impressed with myself.
Anyway, Rogar is the one doing most of the hard work, climbing up and down into the ship. But at least with me helping, it speeds up the entire process.
Once the crate has reached the top of the pulley, I lock the winch and Rogar comes climbing up the nearly vertical deck of the ship to drag the crate over onto the ground.
While Rogar inspects the cargo, I mop the back of my hand across my brow and take a drink from some of the water sticks that Rogar cut for us.
“Is that the last one?” I joke between swigs of the sweet, hydrating fluid.
Rogar turns to me.
“I’m afraid there are many more supplies to bring up. If you are tired, have a rest,” he says in a concerned tone. “I can manage the remainder by myself.”
I shake my head and grin.
“I was only kidding,” I look back down into the darkness of the ship. “But seriously, how many more crates do we need to get today?”
Rogar is already climbing back into the ship, using a thick, insulated cable to lower himself down the sheer side of the deck.
“Just two more,” he says cheerfully, “Then we’ll be able to get to work repairing the levitators.”
I watch him descend, then I lower the empty pulley cable down to him so he can set to work strapping up the next crate. His energy and stamina are amazing. He could work like this all day and all night without getting tired.
While Rogar is doing his thing, I look out over the canopy of the jungle below us and scan the sea of grass beyond that. Way off in the distance is a swirl of tiny specks that must be those carrion snake creatures feasting on the carcass of the predator that Rogar slew.
But what I’m really looking for is some sign of Babu.
It seemed like that strange, kind alien was planning to return with help for Rogar. We don’t need that help now. The big guy is right as rain again, thanks to Babu’s natural medicine. But perhaps Babu’s people can help us in different ways. Help us survive long enough to get off this crazy planet. They must know all kinds of things about this place that we don’t.
There’s no sign of anyone out there, however. My heart sinks a little as I realize something bad may have happened to Babu.
I hope that’s not the case.
Turning my mind back to the task at hand, I shift my eyes down into the shadows of the ship to watch Rogar again. As he works, his powerful muscles shift beneath his smooth, teal skin.
And my mind wanders back to last night.
When I woke up this morning, my first reaction was to feel ashamed about what we did. Maybe even a bit used. I was worried that the only reason Rogar had sex with me was convenience—he was horny, and I was literally the only semi-compatible female on the whole freaking planet.
But the way that he immediately bundled me in his arms and kissed me awake with those incredible, soft lips—God, that immediately wiped all of my concerns away.
His passion matched mine—exceeded it, perhaps. He didn’t have to say anything. I could sense it in his kisses.
And then we did it again, this time in the soft light of dawn.
It definitely wasn’t casual sex.
It was mating.
Breeding.
And that has life-changing consequences.
We haven’t exactly talked about it yet, but we definitely need to. Like, I still don’t have any idea if Rogar’s species can even impregnate a human. Maybe he doesn’t even know either. But if we’re not careful, we could be in for a little surprise.
We’re stranded on an uncharted alien world. It’s a struggle just to keep ourselves alive. Bringing a little one into this situation would be insane, not to mention selfish.
The fact of the matter is that we don’t know how long it will take us to get off this planet. It could be a few weeks, like Rogar said, but what if something goes wrong? What if it takes a few months?
Like…nine months, for example.
And of course that brings up all kinds of logistical questions. Sure, it takes nine months for humans, but how does it work for Rogar’s species? For one thing, Rogar doesn’t have a belly button, which must mean no umbilical cord. I’ve also noticed him calling babies “hatchlings” a few times.
Oh God. Does that mean I’m going to lay a fucking egg?
I push that thought out of my mind. That’s a bridge we’ll have to cross if and when we come to it.
I sigh and stare down at Rogar as he hunches over his task, his short cape falling to one side, and I realize just how hopeless I am. One look at his broad, muscular back, and immediately the first thing that pops into my head is scratching my nails over those sexy, teal scales while I scream his name. I can’t even look at him for two seconds without getting that weak, ticklish feeling inside.
The truth is, I can’t wait until the sun goes down and we can finally relax together again.
Maybe I’ll start by giving Rogar a well-deserved massage. And then after, we can do
that other thing. The thing we did last night. My tummy starts fluttering again just thinking about it.
The coming days on this planet are going to be tough, but the nights will make it all worth it. We really must try to be careful, though.
“How’s it going down there?” I shout to Rogar.
“Almost got it,” he hollers back, his voice resonating through the empty space of the big hold.
Even just the sound of his voice makes me smile. And later I’ll get to hear his real voice again. The one that I can’t understand, but that turns me on like nobody’s business.
I look out over the trees and the grasslands beyond one more time as Rogar finishes securing the crate.
Right now, despite everything, I feel really good. Optimistic even. Maybe the problems of two little sentient life forms don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy galaxy, but I just know that our story is going to have a happy ending. Somehow I can feel it.
What I feel a moment later, however, wipes that optimism away in a wave of sudden terror.
I freeze as a cold, hard, metallic circle presses between my shoulder blades. It’s about the size of a gun’s muzzle.
Behind me, a snickering voice says something I don’t understand, and my stomach sinks.
A clawed hand grabs my arm and I squeal as I’m flipped over onto my back. Raising one hand to shield my eyes against the sun, I find myself staring up at three menacing figures.
An android, a scaly reptilian female, and a catman with a studded patch over one eye. It sounds like the start of a bad joke, but it’s not.
These are the same bounty hunters who attacked us at the convention center.
Then I realize there’s a fourth alien with them—one that I haven’t seen before. I nearly missed him since he is barely half as tall as the others. He’s portly, with a dark beard and purple skin, and little curling devil horns with decorative silver tips.
The well-dressed purple dwarf shouts, his voice surprisingly deep and booming for such a little guy. He shouts a single word, and this time I do understand.
“Rogar!”