Charmed by the Alien Pirate

by Kyle, Celia

  Ilya cries out, her hands clutching at the back of my head as I run my tongue over her nipple, hardening it into aroused stiffness. Then I take the nub inside my mouth and suckle, pulling my head back so her breast stretches out into a shivering cone.

  “Oh, yes.” Ilya’s cry comes from behind gritted teeth. Trapping her nipple with my teeth, I apply just enough pressure to make her moan. Then I flick my tongue over the engorged, pinched teat.

  While my mouth remains latched on, my hands busy themselves with stripping her out of the oil-stained blue trousers hugging her hips. Ilya moves to assist, lifting her bottom up off the bench so I can peel them right off of her shapely legs.

  While I continue to maul her breasts with my lips, tongue, and teeth, my fingers make slow, sensual circles on her pussy mound. Ilya’s soft cries grow sharper, her body stiffening to bowstring tautness against my own.

  After one final, intense nibble, I release her nipple and run my tongue over her belly, moving ever downward. Then I crouch in front of her, shove her knees apart, and stare openly at the glistening skin of her twat.

  Using two of my fingers, I spread her labia out wide, examining the mushy hole with aroused admiration. This pussy is all mine, just like Ilya, my fated mate.

  Extending my tongue, I flick it across her clit, and her entire body shivers like a leaf in the wind. Turning my face sideways, I latch on to her left pussy lip with my mouth, suckling the tender flesh as she twists her hands in my hair, crying out so sharply it makes my ears ring.

  I continue to tease her, molesting her twat with my lips and occasionally giving her clit a tiny bit of attention to keep her on the edge of climax. Soon she’s so worked up that she’s begging me for release.

  “Oh god…lick it, please.”

  “Lick what?”

  “You’re a bastard…lick my clit.”

  “This dirty, nasty clitoris?” I pinch her hood, and she seizes up with more spasms.

  “Yes…”

  I slide my fingers inside of her twat while I work over her clitoris with my lips and tongue. Ilya screams, nearly tearing out my hair in her spastic gyrations as the orgasm consumes her from the inside out.

  Then I lift her shivering, naked body in my arms and toss her on the bed. She giggles as I climb on top of her, fumbling with my trousers. Eventually she grows tired of watching and lends a hand. Or two.

  Chapter Thirty

  Ilya

  I grab Swipt’s belt and unbuckle it, hands still shaking from the thunderous orgasm he teased out of me. He assists in the removal, whipping the belt out swiftly and smiling down at me with intense heat smoldering in his gaze.

  “Gee, what are you going to do with that belt, mister?” I ask sweetly, batting my eyes at him.

  In response, he grabs me by my waist and flips me onto my belly as if I weigh nothing. Swipt might be one of the smallest of the Kilgari, but he’s still a burly beast compared to me. I’m not the least bit frightened or anxious, even though I can no longer see what he’s doing. I trust my fated mate implicitly. Besides, I can read him pretty well, just as he can read me. I have a good guess as to what’s about to happen.

  A stinging, but not brutal slap echoes through the air, and my bottom blazes with heat.

  “Oh.” I cry out more from the intense tingle shooting through my nether region than actual pain. The stinging slap comes again, maybe a micron harder, and my hands twist up the sheets into hills and furrows. “Oh God.”

  “You’re enjoying this too much.” He smacks me again with the belt, still not hard enough to cause real damage or even lingering pain. The idea of what he’s doing is turning me on so very much.

  I can relax with Swipt in a way I never could with anyone else. I know he’s not going to go too far and actually hurt me, so I can just exult in my submissive state and let him take charge of my body.

  Swipt tosses the folded-up belt onto the bed, near where I can see it—on purpose, I think—and then I hear him unzipping his fly. I start to turn around to help him disrobe, but he grabs my shoulder and forces me back face down on the bed.

  “I didn’t say you could turn around yet.”

  I laugh softly, luxuriating beneath him.

  “Sorry, I’m such a disobedient girl…”

  He grabs my ass cheeks fiercely, kneading the round but firm mounds with his powerful fingers. I moan softly as he worships my bottom, kissing and nibbling at my skin.

  “Your ass is pink where the belt landed.” I groan as he pries my ass cheeks apart, and then I feel hot breath across my anus and wide-open twat. “Almost as pink as your cute little hole.”

  “It’s all yours, baby.”

  “That’s right. It’s all mine.” One of his hands retreats, and then I feel something stiff and throbbing pressed up against both my holes. “Can you feel what I’ve got for you?”

  “Yes…”

  Gently, he works the heads of his twin cocks into my pussy and anus. I grit my teeth as he slowly stretches me, the path lubed by generous amounts of his saliva and my own natural juices. Swipt grabs me by the hips and drags me up until I’m on all fours.

  Then he shuffles in close behind me on his knees, and re-inserts his golden-skinned, veined members once more. I’m more ready for him—relaxed, stretched, and eager to take every inch.

  “Oh God.” I throw my head back and gasp as both cocks stretch and fill me. Soon they rub bulbous heads against each other, separated only by a thin membrane of flesh.

  Swipt pumps his hips, dragging his twin cocks out of me most of the way before plunging them back in deeply. He’s not violent or aggressive, but steady and firm. Soon the sounds coming out of my throat grow more guttural, more primal, as he takes me in both of my holes at once.

  Swipt grabs my shoulders and drags me up until I’m on my knees as well. His flexible rods bend slightly, but remain mostly imbedded in my body. I lean against him, mouth open, eyes closed as his hands maul my breasts.

  He pinches my nipples between fore and middle fingers and then stretches them firmly but not to the point of real pain. Swipt’s gentle tugs and slow rotations mingle with the amazing sensations emanating all through my body from the nexus of my pussy and ass.

  His hot mouth is on my neck, kissing and raising goosebumps with his breath. He’s in total control of my body, and he’s using that control to make me feel amazing.

  Eventually my knees get tired and I collapse back onto all fours. Swipt takes this as an invitation to thrust with greater speed and depth. Soon the slapping sounds our bodies make as they crash together mingles with an ever-increasing cry of heated passion. It takes me a moment to realize I’m the one making the cry.

  His body strains against my own, a sharp groan escaping from his lips. I can feel his twin rods stiffen to new levels of hardness, and then they shoot me full of his sticky seed.

  I come almost at the same time he does and then collapse face first on the bed in a panting, sweat-glazed heap of shivering, orgasming flesh. Swipt gets off the bed, and as I lie there in recovery, I can hear the sonic shower turn on briefly.

  “What are you doing?” A note of indignity has crept into my tone. I once dated a guy who ran for the shower as soon as we finished having sex, and it annoyed the hell out of me. What, was he afraid his dick would smell like my pussy?

  “Just cleaning off my upper horn.” He comes back into the room, his face creased with a broad grin. “It’s not good to stuff one that’s been in your dark star into your pink eye without cleaning it first.”

  “You take such good care of me…” I roll over onto my back, and spread my legs widely. “I think I still have some orgasms left in me.”

  Swipt smiles and crawls into bed on top of me. Our lips meet in a passionate kiss and then he pulls away and rises to his knees. I arch my back, thrusting my pelvis toward him lewdly.

  “Your little twat is wide open and slippery for me.” He uses his fingers to pry me open, and I groan with anticipation. “Let me know if this gets to b
e too much.”

  “If what gets to be—oh god.”

  Carefully, gently, he’s working the heads of both his cocks into my twat. At the same time. Inch by inch they invade me, stretching me wider, and soon I realize that not only can I take both his rods at once, but it feels simply fantastic.

  “I’m all in.” I can feel his ball sack slapping against my body as he begins to give quick, tight thrusts of his dual members. I’m very full, stretched nearly to my limit, and it’s not long before I scream out another climax that leaves my throat raw.

  Swipt pulls himself out of me, and then cradles me against his body. I nestle against him, my back against his belly, and soon we drift off into slumber.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Swipt

  I’m not one of those people who believes that intercourse is the cure for all ills. Don’t get me wrong. I love the intimate act—particularly with Ilya, with whom I connect on so many levels—I’m just not naïve enough to believe it solves everything.

  But perhaps something about engaging in an act that ultimately results in life is a great contrast to the violence we suffered earlier. Violence is an act that ultimately results in death, so it feels as if maybe we were pushing back against the darkness a little.

  More than that, Ilya held me, cried with me. She made it okay to feel sad, to hurt, and to rail against the ignorant futility of fighting fate.

  My head is much clearer now as I make my way back to the bridge, Ilya holding my hand firmly. The news about Lokyer’s death has spread throughout the Ancestral Queen, and there’s an intangible pall cast over everyone’s shoulders.

  While I’m glad to see that so many people cared deeply for our lost navigator, I also feel sort of conflicted about the whole thing. A joking prankster like Lokyer wouldn’t want us all dragging ass around moping because he was gone.

  He’d want us to fire up some stygian lotus, tap a keg, and have a full-blown party celebrating how awesome he was.

  I resolve to do exactly this in the near future, but at the moment we have a lot of work to do.

  When the bridge doors open, everyone turns to look at me. Solair’s face creases with a cautious smile.

  “Welcome back, Swipt. Are you feeling more like yourself?”

  “I am, Captain.” I bow my head in shame. “I’m deeply sorry for my behavior earlier. It was inexcusable, and you had every right to throw me off the bridge.”

  “I didn’t exactly throw you off.” Solair’s grin fades. “And you have nothing to apologize for. We all felt Lokyer’s death keenly, but none more so than you, I’d imagine. If my best friend died, I don’t think I’d have held it together as well as you did for so long.”

  I nod in acceptance of his forgiveness and then clear my throat.

  “Ah—should I return to my duties at the pilot’s console?”

  “Of course.”

  Grantian stands up and spins the chair around, patting the seat.

  “Just keeping it warm for you, Swipt. You know I hate flying this glorified museum piece.”

  “Hey, watch how you talk about the Queen.” Solair rubs his hand on the console. “She’s sensitive.”

  “You watch how you talk about the Queen.” Varia glares at him, though her lips are stretched in a smile. “Remember who your mate is, buddy.”

  We all laugh, and some of the tension is dissolved. I sit down at the pilot’s chair, and Ilya slips in next to me and nestles in close. I’m glad to have her here, and Solair doesn’t bat an eye at the breach of protocol.

  The bridge doors open again, and Fiona comes cautiously onto the bridge.

  “Ah, hello? Solair asked me to come up here…”

  “Yes, Fiona.” Solair strides over to her and places his hands behind his back while he speaks. “I understand you once served on a private shuttle as a navigator. Is this true?”

  “What? Yeah, that was years ago.” She looks at the empty nav chair and swallows hard. “Do you want me to…”

  “Yes. Please take the nav console.”

  “Um, okay.” Fiona walks slowly over to the chair but seems reluctant to sit down in it. “This is a big seat to fill.”

  “I’m sure Lokyer would be proud to have you succeed him, Fiona.” I smile at her despite the fact it really, really hurts to see him being replaced. “If you want to honor him, just be the best nav officer you can be. That’s all anyone can ask for.”

  “Thanks, Swipt.” She shoots me a smile before settling in carefully at the console. Her fingers dance over the keys, and I can tell she’s more experienced than she let on. “All systems nominal, Captain.”

  “Thanks, Fiona. And you don’t have to call me captain if you don’t want to. We don’t stand on formality much around these parts.”

  Fiona flashes him a nervous smile and continues to work. For a time it’s largely silent on the bridge as we all deal with Lokyer’s death privately in our own thoughts. I’m glad for Ilya’s presence at my side. It makes the bridge seem less cold and hollow without Lokyer’s snarky comments.

  Then I hear a sudden intake of breath from our new navigation officer. Fiona punches keys rapidly, and the concern in her tone is apparent.

  “Ah, Capt—I mean, Solair?”

  “Yes, Fiona?”

  “Remember how we thought the Prestige was going to burn up in that star’s corona?”

  “Yes…” Solair sighs heavily. “Are you about to tell me that it did not, in fact, burn up in the corona, and is hot on our tail?”

  She clenches her teeth and hisses, speaking with great reluctance.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, shit.” Solair stands up and straightens his brocade coat. “I guess we haven’t seen the last of them after all.”

  “They keep coming back, like spoiled Rauth stew.” Grantian clenches his fist and shakes it in the air. “If only we could meet them in combat on even terms. We’d show them what for.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s not likely to happen. We can’t exactly expect them to not use their superior weaponry against us.” Solair rubs his chin and frowns. “I’m open to suggestions from my senior staff. I’m getting tired of this endless game of—of—”

  He turns to Varia and purses his lips.

  “What was the name of that game you showed me? The one with the groundhogs and the hammers.”

  “Moles.” Varia chuckles. “Not groundhogs, moles. It’s called whack-a-mole.”

  “Right. That was the one. I’m getting tired of this endless game of whack-a-mole. I’d like them to stay the fuck down the next time we hit them. Suggestions?”

  Silence greets him, and I shake my head in frustration.

  “We can’t out-fight them, we can’t outrun them, and somehow I don’t think we’re going to trick them into the corona of another star a second time.” I sigh helplessly, but I notice Ilya seems lost in thought.

  “Perhaps we could try calling for assistance from other privateer captains?” Grantian taps his console. “Even the odds a little?”

  “Even if there were any of them close enough to help, they may not be willing.” Solair shakes his head. “I can say for sure I would be reluctant to face off against a fully armed IHC destroyer-class ship, even if we had it outnumbered.”

  “We can’t just let them catch us.” Varia looks to her mate and frowns. “Perhaps Vander can come up with some way to boost our weapons power?”

  “If he had enough time and equipment, maybe.” Solair grimaces. “Damn it, why can’t we figure this out. We’ve been in tougher spots. Haven’t we, Grantian?”

  “That’s probably true, Captain.” Grantian grins bleakly. “But I can’t quite remember when.”

  “I’ve got it.”

  We all turn toward Ilya, who has an eager gleam in her lovely eyes.

  “You’ve got what?”

  “The idea that’s going to save all of our asses.” She turns to Solair. “Could I borrow your pilot for a little bit? I need his help in the engine room.”

&nb
sp; Solair considers for only a brief moment before nodding.

  “You’ve got it. Grantian, take over the pilot’s chair. I just hope whatever you’ve got in mind is something brilliant and miraculous.”

  “Me too, Solair.” Ilya takes my hand and drags me after off of the bridge. “Me too.”

  I’m burning with curiosity, but it seems like if I’m patient and come along I’ll learn what her plan is soon enough. One thing’s for certain, I’m inspired by her confidence.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ilya

  “Gangway.”

  Arms and legs pumping, breath coming in rapid gasps, and a stitch in my side, I race through the corridors of the Ancestral Queen. There’s not much time before the Prestige catches up with us, so I have to hurry.

  Human and Kilgari alike move to the sides of the serpentine passages as I blitz toward the lower cargo bay. The sound of footsteps coming up behind me would alarm me if I didn’t recognize Swipt’s tread.

  “Ilya.” He catches up to me, keeping pace with an ease that makes me green with envy. He’s not even breathing hard, let alone sweating. “Where are we going?”

  “Cargo…bay…” I can feel death approaching. I just know it. How do people do this? And why do some of them do it for fun?

  “Allow me.”

  I yelp in alarm as Swipt sweeps me off my feet and into his arms. His mile-eating strides carry us quickly down below decks to the cargo bay.

  A couple of workers furrow their brows in confusion as we flash past them. Swipt sets me down and I immediately run over to one of the secured cargo pods.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I saw methane tanks in here back when we were still integrating the two crews. Hopefully it hasn’t been sold or traded yet.”