by Viki Storm
And now I’m about to let some other alien do it to me.
Except it doesn’t feel like that. Not at all. It doesn’t feel like I’m about to be defiled.
It feels like I’m about to be saved.
I pull the suit down and wriggle my legs out one at a time, feeling horribly inelegant and clumsy, but I manage to keep my balance and not fall on my bare ass.
And when I look up, Orlon’s eyes meet mine. When he first took me from the Corva coil factory, I had thought him to have the raw and unrefined power of pure corvium. I was so right. His masculinity is similarly explosive, powerful and dangerous in the right circumstances. The primitive (or perhaps not so primitive) female part of me responds to it. Oh, yes. It’s powerful, appealing, and oh so attractive.
He might not be a human, but he’s a fucking man.
“On your knees,” he says. “And open up for me.”
I take a few steps towards him on legs that feel so weak I’m surprised I can still stand. Then I kneel in front of the captain’s chair. He fists his cock and points it towards my face.
I part my lips, unsure of what to do. I know what I’m supposed to do—I mean, the mechanics are obvious. But the mechanics of a thing are not quite the same as the finesse that’s often required.
“A little wider than that,” he says. I adjust, opening my mouth wider, feeling a little foolish, like I’m about to have a dental scan. “That’s it, good female.” He pushes his cock into my mouth, slowly, until I’m filled all the way up.
And this is a new sensation indeed. Being filled up.
It’s quite different from last time, where he just rubbed himself on me.
This time, he’s inside me. And I like it.
That initial feeling of awkwardness is completely gone. Replaced by desire.
I think I’m starting to feel what he was talking about. The hunger. The desire.
Now that I’ve got him inside me, I want more.
Now, I’m the wolf and he’s the rabbit.
He thrusts gently at first, but soon I take over the motions, eagerly taking his length in and out of my mouth.
“Look at me,” he says. I look up at him, still continuing to pleasure him. He groans appreciatively. “That’s it,” he says. “I knew you’d be more beautiful with my cock in your mouth. I’m going to give you something now, and you’re going to swallow it. Do you understand?”
I mumble a response, but I don’t bother taking him out of my mouth to do so.
“But first, you’re going to put your hand between your legs and rub your hard little clit until you come. Coming with my cock in your mouth will be good practice for later, when you come with my cock in your cunt.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I start to touch myself, amazed at how wet I am. It doesn’t take me very long until I feel my orgasm crash into me. I moan in pleasure with my lips wrapped around his cock as the spasms wrack my body. Then I feel Orlon start to tense, and then the spasms start to wrack his body. His cock pulses, and I feel the thick spurts of his seed shoot into my mouth. When I’ve wrung the last drop from his shaft, I pull away, licking my lips.
“Did that earn me a seat in the captain’s chair?” I ask.
“Female,” he says, “that earns you anything you want.”
- - -
Four days later we go into orbit above Ureb-R’iora.
And it’s obvious that Orlon was right.
There are several large buildings clustered in seemingly the only valley seated in the craggy terrain.
“You were right,” I say as he does a photo scan and brings up the pictures on the vid screen.
“Maybe,” he says, but he’s smiling, and I know that even though he’s trying to hedge against hope, he’s getting excited.
It’s been a long voyage, our anticipation and uncertainty of what we’d find when we got to Ureb-R’iora very hard to contain. We’d entertained ourselves thoroughly, Orlon seemingly insatiable in his sexual appetites.
But he did not try to mate me. He said I wasn’t ready yet. I sure as hell felt ready. After having his cock inside my mouth, I wanted so badly to give him my virginity, wanted to experience that delicious feeling of being filled up. But he said I was not ready. He said that since I am a human, the bond of true mates is slower to develop between us, and he will not fully claim me until the bond is strong and true.
He said to do it prematurely would cheat me out of the most pleasurable experience of my life.
I don’t know about all that—all I know is the last few days I’ve felt cheated out of knowing the true pleasure of intercourse. Not that he hasn’t been tending to my needs with his mouth and with his delightfully thick and nimble fingers. I’ve come my brains out more times that I can count, but I still feel unfulfilled somehow.
“That’s gotta be it,” I say, pointing to the buildings on the desolate landscape below. “Those sure as shit aren’t houses. It can’t be a coincidence.”
“Let’s find out,” he says. He’s piloting now, and he lands carefully, not being reckless despite our growing excitement. We suit up and strap on the oxygen tanks.
When I set foot on the ground, I’m surprised at how strong the gravity is. Orlon warned me that I’d feel heavier on Ureb-R’iora and it would be much harder to walk around, but I feel like I’m wading through a pool filled with peanut butter. He doesn’t seem to be affected as much by the gravity, but then again, he’s a lot stronger than me.
We make it to one of the buildings and it’s not even locked. That more than anything convinces me that everything is true—no one but my fool father would neglect to secure a treasure trove of weapons.
Sure enough, there is all manner of weaponry inside the buildings. Lasers and particle blasters for hand-to-hand combat. Missiles and beams for the spacecraft. Corva coils to fuel the ships. And ships. Hundreds of fighter ships and stealthcraft.
“Sweet Void,” he says. “I need to send a comm to Vano. We might have a chance against the Guuklar yet.”
The Zalaryns arrive on Ureb-R’iora faster than I would have thought possible. Some from Zalaryx, some from Lekyo Prime, some from the other recently established Zalaryn settlements. They come in huge ships equipped with prefabricated domiciles that were easily erected on the planet’s surface, with sufficient insulation, water and cooking facilities to seem luxurious to me.
While waiting to attack the Guuklar, Orlon has made sure to fill our idle time most pleasurably—even allowing me to train in the yard and teaching me some hand-to-hand combat skills. I was even able to disarm him once, but I have a feeling that he faked it so I wouldn’t get discouraged at my lack of progress.
I’m determined to disarm him again, to prove it wasn’t a fluke. “Take me back to the training yard,” I ask Orlon one morning after breakfast.
“I’m full,” he complains.
“Then you need to work off those extra calories,” I say.
“Why would I exercise for the purpose of expending the calories I just ingested?” he asks. Zalaryns have no concept of dieting or exercising for the sake of weight loss. “That’s inefficient as well as illogical.”
“Come on,” I say. I pull on his arm, trying to get him out of his chair. He’s so solid, so immovable. A slab of pure muscle. I don’t know why it’s so appealing to me, but it is. I enjoy our training sessions, his body hard and strong against mine. He’s always able to get me on the ground, pinning me down with nothing but his own massive arms. Even thinking about it right now is causing me to feel all sorts of tingles between my legs.
“A short session,” he says. “Then I get to nap.”
“Overeating and napping mid-day?” I ask. “That’s not very Zalaryn of you.”
“I know,” he admits. “Your lazy, degenerate human way of life is rubbing off on me.”
“Hey,” I say and punch his shoulder. He stands up and assumes a defensive fighting stance. “How dare you insult my proud race?”
“What are you going to do about
it?” he says, smiling. He jabs at my ribs, which I foolishly leave unguarded. I flinch away and put up my fists.
“I’m going to take you down,” I threaten.
“Not in the mess hall,” he says. “Let’s go to the training yard. If you manage to take me down, then I’ll let you pleasure yourself upon my cock.”
“You’d let me do that anyway,” I say, but in truth, his dirty words are increasing the tingling between my legs. Does this mean that he is finally going to take my virginity? He said he was waiting for our bond or whatever to fully develop. I’m worried that the bond he’s always talking about, I’m never going to feel it. He keeps saying he feels this amazing bond, this powerful connection—but I haven’t yet.
And part of me is even more scared that I will feel it.
That I’ll be mysteriously and mystically connected to him for the rest of my life. This bonding thing is not something that humans are meant to do. Humans get married and sometimes stay married until death, but that’s not the same thing that Orlon is talking about. Maybe humans aren’t supposed to bond.
The training yard is indoors, a large empty square equipped with deactivated anankahs and other blunted weapons used for hand-to-hand combat. I’ve gotten used to the increased gravity on Ureb-R’iora and can move more easily, but the quick movements required for fighting are still difficult.
No one is in here right now, so we have the yard to ourselves. Orlon gestures to the deactivated anankahs and tells me to select one. I reach out to grab one, but I scream and pull my hand away.
“What?” he says. He’s at my side immediately, stern and ready to protect me. Then he bursts out laughing. “This?”
There is a spider crawling on the handle of the training weapon I was about to select.
“Yes,” I say. “It’s huge.” And it is, plump as a blueberry and darker than the Void. I can deal with the little ones or the spindly brown ones. Even the little shaggy ones are okay. But the shiny black fat ones? I shudder involuntarily.
“You want me to train you to face an enemy in hand-to-hand combat, but you can’t face a tiny arachnoid that you can literally squish between your fingers?”
“Yes, because they’re gross, now just get rid of it,” I say. To my horror, Orlon plucks it up not unlike a child picking an overripe blueberry from the bush. I make a note to make him wash his hands when we get back to our room.
I take the small training anankah and heft it in my hands. It’s heavy, and I can barely hold it out without my arm trembling.
“What’s so funny?” I ask when I notice him smirking at me. “You already made your point about the spider.”
“That’s a child’s weapon,” he says.
“Who brought a child’s weapon to the base camp?” I ask. “Please tell me there are no children here.”
“No,” he says. “Warriors must reach the age of maturity before being allowed the privilege of a position in battle. I don’t know how a child’s weapon got slipped into our training equipment, but good thing it’s here, otherwise you would really have no chance against me. I mean, you have no chance as it is, but with a weapon you might get in a hit or two.”
“Don’t be so cocky,” I say. “What a blow to your pride it will be when a puny little human female takes you down.”
“I’ll take the risk,” he says. “Come on. See if you can land a blow to my torso before you start talking about landing blows to my pride.”
I hold the weapon the way that he showed me, across my chest, both hands grasping firmly. The anankah is basically a big stick, so you can use it defensively and offensively if needed—or you can charge it up and point it at someone and send an energy shockwave at them. Orlon says that if I used it for a blast, the recoil would damage the ligaments in my wrist, so we practice using it only to parry blows.
He is swift on his feet, dancing lightly on his toes as he comes towards me. I am patient, and I wait for his attack. When he strikes out with his fist, I block with the anankah.
“Good,” he says. “You might be able to do that if I tried at full speed.”
“That wasn’t full speed?” I ask. His arm shot out lightning fast as far as I could tell.
“Not quite,” he says. I don’t want to ask him just how much he’d slowed down.
I wait, matching his steps as he prepares for the next strike. I try to sense the direction it will come from, but I cannot. I’m not equipped with the sensory pads that aid the Zalaryns in battle.
“You’re too patient,” he says. He feints a jab at my head and I duck, but when I do, he lands a blow on the tender spot between my neck and shoulder. I know for a fact that he only tapped me, but it still hurts. No matter how much he tries to conceal his strength during our training sessions, I still wind up feeling like a tenderized piece of meat afterward.
“You’re too impatient,” I say.
“A good fighter is neither patient nor impatient. You can’t wait around forever, always being on the defensive. But you can’t go in too fast, either, giving your opponent opportunity to capitalize on your hasty mistakes.”
I quickly spin the anankah in my hands, holding it out like a sword, and thrust it towards his stomach. He easily steps aside.
“That was too hasty,” he says. “I baited you into a quick attack.” Before he can finish his sentence, I thrust again, this time connecting, however briefly, before he grabs the end and deflects the major force of the blow. “Better,” he says. “That might leave a bruise.”
“It would only be fair,” I say. “I’m going to have more than a few from you.”
“And you should wear them proudly,” he says. “As a symbol of your growth and dedication.”
“Wear this proudly,” I say. I raise the weapon over my head with both hands and bring it down in a chopping motion, bring it down with all my might. Orlon casually lifts his hand and grabs the anankah and yanks it out of my fists, as if he was taking a scroll from a messenger.
He throws it to the ground and then lunges at me. I flail my fists and they bounce off his hard chest as ineffectually as a raindrop pitter-patters against a window pane. He grabs my wrists and in one quick move spins me around so my back is pressed against the hard plane of his torso. He holds my arms behind my back, and I can’t help but notice how the position pushes my breasts out.
“And you’re caught,” he says. I twist and rotate my wrists, but he’s got them tight. “What did we say you’d do for me if I was able to disarm you?”
“We didn’t agree on anything,” I say. I try pulling my arms, try kicking his legs, but nothing fazes him. He’s got me held tight against his body, immobilized, absolutely at his mercy. The feeling of helplessness is frustrating, but knowing that Orlon’s the one who has me makes the feeling of helplessness more than a little arousing. The bare skin contact, the grunting, the sweating—it’s all too much like physical lust.
“Good,” he says. “If we didn’t agree on anything, then I’m free to demand whatever I want from you right now. And you’re powerless to refuse me.”
“And what is it that you want?” I ask. All of a sudden, I’m eager to hear his demands. This brief sparring session has gotten me worked up—and I’m sure that he can sense it. He’s always sure to point out when he can sense my arousal, much to my embarrassment.
He bends down a little bit and nuzzles his face against my neck. He’s breathing heavily, and it tickles the tiny hairs on my skin. Gooseflesh erupts all over, despite the heat of exertion. “I want to take you back to the room,” he says. His voice is a low growl, his lips grazing my ear. My stomach flips and dances. “I want to get out of these sweaty clothes. I want to pull you into bed with me…”
My legs feel so weak, it’s good he’s holding onto me, otherwise I’d melt into a pool of jelly at his feet. My eyes are closed, and I can’t help imagining this scenario, the two of us hot and nude in our room, Orlon’s strong body hovering over mine, pinning me to the bed, my hands caressing the bulges of his biceps as he p
ositions himself between my legs. A tiny moan escapes my lips, and I hardly notice it.
“And?” I ask.
“And I want that nap I was talking about earlier.” He releases me, and I’m confused. Why must he toy with me?
“A nap?” I say. I’m disappointed from my defeat in our sparring session and a little hurt from the way he got me aroused and then… rejected me. “That’s all?”
“I told you,” he says, “I ate too much at breakfast.”
“Almighty Void,” I say. “I don’t get you.”
“I don’t get you,” he says. He’s in good humor, and that somehow makes me more upset. “You got your training session like you wanted. But you didn’t manage to take me down, so you don’t get to pleasure yourself on my cock. That was the deal, remember?”
I do remember, but I thought that was a joke. I say nothing, only glower at him.
“I’m sorry,” he says. He grabs my arms again and pulls me into an embrace. “I didn’t mean to tease you.”
“It’s not that,” I say. “I mean, that’s part of it. Mostly I don’t like feeling so helpless.”
“Helpless to resist my advances?” he says and slides his hands down to cup the cresting curves of my ass. “Or helpless to fend off an attacker in hand-to-hand combat?”
“Both,” I say.
“Then cheer up,” he says. “Because you are powerless to resist the advances of your bonded mate. That is the way of the universe and nothing can be done about it. Desire for your mate is the glue that holds the universe together. And you should not worry about hand-to-hand combat so much,” he says. “Physically weak though you may be, I will always be there to protect you. It is my job to ensure your safety, so leave the fighting to me.”
I wish it was that easy.
Because whether you like it or not, the fighting always finds a way to come to you.
The Guuklar are set to arrive in Lekyo Prime in six days, if the intelligence and tracking beacons can be believed, and Orlon says that they can—he programmed most of them, after all. In the large Zalaryn raiding ships, it takes about four days to travel to Lekyo Prime. Plenty of time, Orlon says.