by Abigail Myst
“Aim that monster in the wrong direction and you would hit the ceiling.”
She didn’t seem to mind being covered in his seed. In fact, she ran a finger through it and examined it thoroughly.
He ached to be inside her.
“Well, I think I need shower.” She stood up, having to wheel the chair away from him when she did. “That means you should probably go.”
He stood there for a long moment, admiring the sight of Clover covered in his cum. His cock twitched, hoping to watch her in the shower, naked, hands sliding down her form. But she waved him away and clearly expected him to leave.
“Dinner tomorrow,” he spurted out.
She turned back to him. “Do you really think that’s such a good idea?”
“It is an excellent idea. I could show you that I can pleasure you with more than just my tongue.”
“Look, Scrubs, this was fun but I don’t plan on making a habit out of it.”
“I understand your intentions. But I deserve at least a little of your company before it is too late.”
She looked him up and down, pausing to stare a moment at his cock, which was still quite upright and pointing at her lewdly.
“Fine. Dinner. But if you think that’s going to change my mind, you are being really, really optimistic.”
Chapter Five
Clover
What the fuck was she doing? Clover was leading on a Mahdfel. One who at any moment, could bend her over and impale her on his rock hard green cock. And she hadn’t been imagining it earlier. Scrubs glowed. His tattoos lit up the harder and hotter he got.
She should just go back to the plan. Ignore him and he would go away. They were already halfway through the trip. Surely all she had to do was ditch him for dinner and go back to ignoring him.
Except he could open her door. The thought should have sent a chill down her spine. Instead, it sent a hot tingling shiver right to her pussy. Clover tried, right after she got out of the shower, to remove his permissions but even though she had administrator access, there was no way to override a medical access code. If he wanted to enter, she was his.
His Mahdfel honor would prevent that, though. It didn’t stop her from waking hot and wet in the middle of the night, from dream after dream in which he came to her, cock towering and ready.
She wondered what he tasted like. She’d been too timid to pop her finger in her mouth after trailing it through his blue cum. Blue! Like cotton candy! She’d stepped into the shower, nightie and all, and washed his cum from her breasts. Despite being exhausted, her nipples were tight points that still begged to be explored by his hot mouth.
Crawling into bed naked had not done her any favors either. The sheets against her skin just reminded her of how much she wanted his hands (and every other part of him) caressing her. This was going too far. This was unfair to both of them. This was the hottest sex she’d ever even dreamed of having and she hadn’t even gotten down to business yet.
Fuck, fuck, fuck a duck.
Of course, she was going to have dinner with him. But fully clothed this time. Civilized. Like he was a doctor. Okay, so he was a doctor, but like he was her doctor. Cold, clinical Scrubs. Who had no tongue.
Shit.
She did not dress up for him. She layered. Shirt, sweater, boy short underwear with baggy pants. No cleavage, no betraying little nipples. Hair in a sloppy ponytail. Nothing special. Thank the blazes he had shown up in his more formal uniform. No chest in sight, except what was covered under his tight black uniform that left very little to the imagination. And of course his hard on. She was beginning to think it was a permanent condition.
He seemed to think an explanation was in order. “I did ejaculate twenty minutes ago but my biological imperative is in overdrive with such close proximity.”
Clover said nothing, as images of the night before, cock in hand, splurting his blue cum all over her tits, filled her brain. She tried not to squirm in her seat.
They were in the galley, a common space in the ship, innocuous enough, but with just the two of them, and with the lighting a bit low, it could possibly be downright romantic.
Scrubs brought out a flask and poured a bright blue liquid into two small glasses. It was the same color as… no she wasn’t going there.
“So, Doctor. What made you choose to be a doctor?”
“The Mahdfel do not choose as much as humans when it comes to their preferred careers. My specific species, of Etlon, are small and well suited for tracking and subterfuge in both shaded and green spaces. Most of our work reflects as such but my intellect and calm demeanor placed me in the track of medicine where I excel.”
“So what would you do if you weren’t a doctor?”
He gave her a blank look, as if he had never considered an alternate path.
“If you got to choose,” she prompted, “what would you have done?”
“I would have chosen you.”
Clover opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out. This alien didn’t make anything easy.
“I have never been unhappy as a medic. I have skill and I will put it to good use in the way that it most benefits the Mahdfel defeat of the Suhlik.”
“Okay, then what made you choose obstetrics? I mean, that’s not exactly patching up wounded warriors on the field of battle and whatnot.”
“We will not defeat the Suhlik without reinforcements. And no matter how many times they are patched up, the Mahdfel are not immortal.”
“Right. Then why Earth?” Another blank look. “Terra. Why Terra?”
“Because my child will be part Terran and I want every bit of knowledge to make sure he and you are safe.”
“Back up the bus, kid.” It was a phrase her father had used, although she wasn’t quite sure what a bus was, or why it needed to back up. “I don’t plan on having children anytime soon.”
“No, of course not. It is most wise to wait until we are settled, though I have been offered a placement in the Clan of Athen of Etlon on Noven 90.”
“Except I have no idea who, what and where that is. And I don’t plan on mating with you,” she repeated for the hundredth time.
The stubborn alien continued on, as if he hadn’t heard. “It is mostly a jungle planet, but well out of Suhlik territory. Athen is son of Etlon of Etlon.”
“Etlon. Of Etlon. What, did they name the whole planet after him?”
“Yes and no. Our ancestors were from a planet called Etlon but the Suhlik destroyed it. And so, once we freed ourselves, we named our leader and greatest warrior Etlon. It was decided that he would resettle a new planet, which of course, we renamed Etlon.”
“You didn’t think that would be confusing?”
“It is not.”
He seemed to think a change of topic was in order. He took one of the glasses of blue stuff and put it to her lips. She knew she shouldn’t but she took a sip. It was sour, a little like lemonade, but with an alcoholic kick at the end that went straight to her nipples. The way he stared intently at her, Clover could have sworn that he could see them under her shirt and sweater.
“This will help warm you up.”
“I’m not cold,” she stammered. In fact, she was beginning to turn to fire. “Food. We need food.”
He stood and crossed over to the two dishes he had already prepared. He took off the foil and Clover could see a very Terran dish.
“Lasagna with breadsticks,” he stated as he placed one dish in front of her and the other at his place. “I have been experimenting with Terran food, considering my upcoming internship. I have found this nutritionally balanced and appealing to the taste buds.”
He took a breadstick from her plate and held it up to her lips. Clover knew it wasn’t really bread, but she could smell the garlic buttery topping and her mouth began to water. It should be obscene, Scrubs feeding her such a phallic object of tasty goodness. Clover still couldn’t resist taking a bite.
Scrubs was inordinately pleased, so much that Clover began to get su
spicious and snatched the rest of the bread out of his hand. He simply smiled and then took one of the sticks from his own plate and took a bite.
When she did not continue eating, his smile turned to a concerned frown.
“It is not good? You do not like Terran food?”
“I like lasagna. It’s the company that I’m not too sure about.”
“You like me. I have read that Terran women do not go on dates with warriors they do not like.”
“This? This is not a date. This is dinner.”
Scrubs screwed up his face as if trying to remember a specific detail.
“How much research did you do on the subject of dating?” Clover inquired, taking another sip of the blue lemonade. This might actually prove to be an entertaining night.
“I read everything.”
“I don’t even think that’s possible.”
“All of the Mahdfel guides. Our experience with the Terran culture is fairly limited, considering the recentness of our first encounter.”
Scrubs tore into his dinner with gusto. It must take a gazillion calories to power that much muscle.
“So you guys swoop in, make deals to marry the women and then write dating how-to guides?”
“You have forgotten the part about ripping the throats out of any Suhlik that might have been attacking you, but yes. It is most efficient.”
“What’s included in this alien’s guide to Earth women?”
“Customs and dating rituals, preferred sexual practices, common phrases and expressions that befuddle the translator.”
“Preferred what?”
He offered her a very male grin. “I possess complete knowledge of Terran female anatomy and erogenous zones. Some is instinct, but I am very interested to try some of the more complicated practices.”
Clover tried to respond to this but another shift in her chair brought back the memory of his tongue inside her.
“Maybe we should think this through a little bit more. I have a ship. You have a doctor thing to do. How do you expect to have a marriage when you are off doctoring and I’m off making cargo runs? Surely you can see this is never going to work.”
“Where there is a will, there is a way.”
He’d obviously pulled that explanation out of the manual. Her com unit beeped, as did Scrubs’s. She scanned the message. It was an automated distress beacon. This far out into space, those were nothing but idiot bait. The Suhlik planted them along the common travel lines, hoping some well meaning dolt would wander into range and choose to assist the hapless ship. Instead, they would find only Suhlik or booby traps waiting to blow them to smithereens. The automated distress beacons were not accompanied by real transmissions. There were no live people to talk to, but they did require a captain to dismiss them three times before they finally went away. It was meant to prod captains into thinking twice about leaving someone stranded, but it just helped to lower morale, as far as Clover was concerned. She knew if she were ever stranded on a lonely asteroid with only an automated beacon, she’d be screwed too. No one would stop.
When Clover dismissed it the second time to turn it off, Scrubs stood and continued to look at his, unable to figure out why she chose to ignore the plea.
“It’s a trap. Just turn it off,” she said.
Clover began to expect trouble when she realized that his hard on was gone and his skin was rippling with a color she’d never seen on him before.
“We will go.”
“No. We will not go. It’s just a Suhlik ploy. Those are everywhere in this sector.”
“It is our duty. My duty.”
“Well, too bad, because this is my ship.”
“I am a medic. I must go.”
“I get that. Really I do, but I’m sure there is another Mahdfel ship with another Mahdfel medic somewhere nearby.”
“There is not. I checked.”
“Seriously, I am not taking my ship down onto a Suhlik infested rock so you can go get yourself blown up!”
“I take heart in the fact that you are considerate of my welfare.”
“Screw that. I don’t get paid if you don’t get delivered.”
“I will write a note. They will cover your expenses.”
“The answer is still no.”
“As a Mahdfel medic, I have complete and absolute override for every system on this ship. If you do not cooperate, I will lock you in your quarters until we have ascertained the legitimacy of the request.”
Gone was the alien who was perpetually hopeful that he was about to get lucky. In his place was the genetically altered super soldier who planned to do his duty even if it cost him a mate. Clover thought she had about five more seconds to respond before he hauled her off to her cabin. From there, she’d have no way to assist if things went sideways.
“Fine. We land. You look around. I stay on the ship. If you see one bloody sign of Suhlik, you assume that everyone is dead because, well they are. And you know it.”
Scrubs opened his mouth to object but then nodded. “You will not leave the ship.”
“Why the hell would I want to walk into a trap?”
“It may not be a trap.”
Who was he kidding? The obvious trap was obviously a trap.
Clover headed to the cockpit to oversee the slight course correction. Scrubs followed her until he was assured she was true to her word and actually heading toward the small asteroid that was begging for help.
“It’s an ice fest down there. Air barely breathable,” she warned.
“It is habitable.”
“If you’re Frosty.”
“I do not understand.”
“Frosty was a snowman. He had a magical hat and he danced around.”
Scrubs obviously wanted to ask her more, but the proximity alarm went off as they drew near the surface. He disappeared for a few minutes and reappeared in white Mahdfel armor. It must have been heated because it was not exactly thick, warm and fuzzy like Clover’s coat that hung on a peg behind her seat. She was tempted to put it on, just anticipating the draft that would blow in when he opened the hatch.
She was also tempted to put it on because inside one of the sleeves was a small laser pistol. It might only put a dent in Suhlik armor but it was the best she had. Scrubs had materialized with a full scale rifle with all the bells and whistles. At least he didn’t plan to go in stupid.
Clover descended through the lower atmosphere into a field nearly entirely white. Only her instruments could tell her where the ground started and the air began. She coasted along toward the beacon and for a moment, felt relief that there were no signs of Suhlik ships or activity. Just peaceful snow.
Through the snow drifts, Clover finally was able to make out a cave. She glanced twice at the instruments. The beacon was in that cave. There was no way she was parking there. About 50 meters away, she found a landing spot in the snow bank. She just had to hope that the ground below was hard ice or rock, enough to support the weight of the ship as it settled.
“Well?” She turned to Scrubs as the ship settled and she was finally able to let out a breath.
“I believe the expression is ‘so far so good’.”
“That’s just the problem. They want to lure you in before wham! You never saw them coming.”
“It is difficult to sneak up on an Etlonian.”
“Keep your coms open. I want to know the moment you hit trouble.”
The ship had only two small pulse cannons, enough to discourage pirates, but just like her pistol, would hardly even put a dent in fully armed Suhlik ship.
“If I hit trouble,” Scrubs reiterated. “And you, too.”
Without warning, he tilted her chin up and claimed her mouth. It was a searing kiss, bold and full of the need and desire he had exhibited before but also different. It wasn’t quite a goodbye, but more like a last-kiss-before-I-die kind of thing.
When he pulled away, her knees were weak and she nearly shouted at him again not to go. But there was no changing his st
ubborn Mahdfel mind. There were people in there to rescue and he was determined to be a one warrior rescue party.
He opened the hatch and stepped out into the white landscape. Clover shivered as the brisk air flashed in for a moment before the ships heaters dissolved the wave of snow.
Clover really did want him to come back. She was surprised at how much her stomach pulled and turned. She tried to tell herself it was the kind of concern she’d show for any passenger under her protection. Clover knew it ran deeper than that.
She couldn’t possibly be falling in love with the oaf, could she? It would never work.
“My sweet.”
“Huh?” Clover sat up straight, twisting to find the source of Scrubs’s voice.
“Just testing the coms.” His voice was low and calm, as if he were whispering love notes from the other side of the bed.
Clover tried to spot him, but warrior in white armor in a practical blizzard was too difficult to spot. She transferred over to his digital tracker. He was approaching the mouth of the cave. It was a gentle and smooth route, even though Clover imagined it rather treacherous walking through the ice and snow.
“The moment you see a Suhlik, you run,” she said.
“Back to you?”
“Back to the ship.”
“And what prize do I get for survival?”
“Surviving?” Living to see another day was a pretty good prize, especially when Suhlik were involved.
“I was hoping for something more substantial.”
“What’s more substantial than survival?”
“A mate. A family. A very long night in bed.”
“You never quit, do you?”
“I do not.”
How the hell had she ended up with such a persistent yet charming stalker?
He reached the edge of the cave and by mutual agreement, the banter stopped. He needed every bit of focus he could muster.