While observing a Yautja mating ritual, you enter the forest where the chase is taking place, expecting to observe and record in your science logbook. Little do you know that entering is a form of consent, and there is only one Yautja willing to protect you from the others.
ao3 // main masterlist // scientific guide masterlist
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
“That’s not right,” you mutter, erasing the error.
Field work requires hands and hard tools. Paper and pencil are tangible, holds you present, keeps you focused. They’re also the only tools you have, the rest confiscated when you landed on Yautja Prime, greeted by a Yautja clan that weren’t even the tiniest bit amused to see you.
You weren’t armed. Not a threat. Unworthy prey.
They were rightly pissed you arrived on their homeworld, but thought it better to keep you when you opened your mouth and Yautja followed. Your fluency in Yautja only went so far. They were curious but also suspicious, made worse by the Weyland-Yutani ship you arrived on.
Studying Xenoanthropology in school opened the door to employment with the Weyland-Yutani Corporation. They admired your observations about different alien species, offered you a job, sent you off-world to a colonized star system, on a planet that never saw the sun because of industrial pollution caused by Weyland-Yutani mining operations.
Your job landed you in the research labs, in front of Yautja technology. The Company told you all they wanted was to expand their cultural knowledge on the species, but when you were shown the Yautja ship, asking you to decode and translate the information contained within, you knew then that they didn’t care about Yautja culture. They wanted information. They wanted to find their homeworld.
And being the spontaneous idiot that you are, you did the exact opposite. Destroyed the labs, destroyed their research, destroyed the ship. Erased it all and fled, stealing the coordinates for yourself.
You can’t go home. You can’t return to any world or star system that’s been colonized by humans. Weyland-Yutani is looking for you.
A gentle blow, a rounding of the lips, and the grit of graphite disappears from the page. Angling the notebook toward the light, you glance between it and your point of study.
“Could be worse,” you sigh, returning the notebook to your lap. “Could be better.”
On the page are two sketches, each of a Yautja torso. One female and the other male. Anatomy was never your subject, but it’s still important to document, and here, witnessing this cultural ritual, gives you a clear view of their naked bodies. Trust, built over months, is the only reason you’re currently perched on a tree stump with notebook in hand.
A clan matriarch is in heat, ready to mate, but more than one male has caught her eye. Eight yards away from where you sit are a group of male Yautja, five in total. They’re naked except for a stripe of paint on their arms, each a different color designating what subset of the clan they’re from. Females spearhead each clan, typically the strongest amongst their number. When a female Yautja is in heat, her choice must come from a different clan. Like humans, they do not inbreed, the practice causing unfavored genetic traits.
The female Yautja in question, Ahra, is separated from the males, surrounded by other females, their tendrils gray. They are elders, deeply respected and cared for. You focus on her muscled limbs, returning to your sketch, erasing lines and redrawing for emphasis. Tongue between your teeth, you concentrate on the transition from torso to chest to shoulder.
A soft crunch of grass comes from behind you. You quickly turn, finding no one. Frowning, you slowly return to your notebook, only for large hands to yank it from your grasp.
“Bhatul! What are you doing?”
Bhatul, the only Yautja you’ve formed a true connection with, holds your notebook in front of him with both hands, head cocked, black quills falling over one shoulder, several decorated with gold rings. He’s a mix of dusty red, tan, and black spots, common for the members of his clan that live in the warmer, drier regions of Yautja Prime with a healthy amount of smaller quills on his arms and chest.
Using one hand, he turns the notebook around. “Me?” he asks, indicating the half-complete male diagram.
“And what if it is?” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.
He chuffs. “You show truth. I am strong. Virile.”
The back of your neck grows hot. With you sitting on the tree stump, and him standing in front of you, naked, you have a clear view of his penis. It’s directly in front of your face.
“That’s not—” you begin.
“Do you think she will mate with me?” asks Bhatul.
“Ahra?” Bhatul inclines his head. “Isn’t it a contest?”
“Yes,” nods Bhatul. “We chase. Subdue. Mount.”
“All of you?”
Bhatul huffs, affronted. “A female Yautja has only one—”
You throw up your hands. “Yes. I know. I can see that.” You turn your head in Ahra’s direction. “Quite clearly.”
Bhatul tosses the notebook back to you. You catch it, nearly falling off the stump from the force behind the throw. “You will not enter the forest.”
“Excuse me?”
He steps forward and kneels, bringing him eye-level. “I know you. Too curious.” Bhatul lifts his hand, imitating a head opening and closing its mouth. “Talking.” He changes to two fingers that walk along an invisible surface. “Following.”
You roll your eyes. “You tell me to follow. And I have to.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “Makes other Yautja jealous.”
“Jealous?” you deadpan.
“You are…pet. Other Yautja want pet.”
Unbelievable. You’d pull on one of his mandibles but that would only rile him up more than he already is. Bhatul enjoys pushing your buttons, but it’s never mean. He was the first to approach you without an ulterior motive, to ask questions and answer yours in return. A friend, you suppose.
“So, what?” you laugh. “I’m your dog?”
Bhatul snorts, his mandibles flexing. “Dog?” he repeats slowly, the human word sounding odd in his mouth.
Since arriving, you’ve only spoken Yautja, but write your research in your native language. There are no mandibles for you to use, and the mouth structures are different, but they understand, even when you butcher their words.
“It’s an animal,” you say, switching back to Yautja. “A common pet for humans. Fluffy. Friendly. Cuddles with you. Follows you around.”
Bhatul nods. “You are dog.”
You punch Bhatul in the arm. He makes a rattling, chuffing sound you’ve come to know as the closest thing the Yautja have to laughter.
The first time you heard it, you had asked Bhatul if Yautja only see in infrared as research suggests.
“No,” he had said, tapping a finger close to his eye. “We have a gland. Links to our eyes. Helps us see body heat. Good for hunting.”
“And what if you’re not hunting?”
“The gland isn’t active.” He had leaned in, gaze observing your entire body in a slow perusal. “I can see you clearly.”
You punch Bhatul again. “Are you serious?”
“You follow me around.”
You keep hitting him. “You ask me to. Why do I have to repeat myself?”
Bhatul grabs your wrist, drawing your hand away from his massive bicep. Instead of releasing your wrist, he continues to hold it, staring into your eyes with an intensity that makes your stomach drop. It’s been happening more and more this look.
“I like your company,” he says, his already gruff, guttural voice deepening. “You ask questions.”
“I ask too many.”
“You do.” He drops your hand but doesn’t stand. “Don’t enter the forest.” And then he’s up, heading toward the male Yautja clustered nearby.
Technically, you’re supposed to listen and obey. You are human, not Yautja. You were not given the same rights or privileges. While in most circumstances, you’d listen to Bhatul, this might be your only opportunity.
With his back to you, you pack up your notebook and grab your satchel, easing into the tree line until the large leaves provide enough coverage to hide you. These are not hunting grounds, and the only predators are the Yautja.
Kneeling behind a tree, you carefully observe Ahra dashing into the trees, the males fanning out, the same amount of distance between each. You count the seconds from when Ahra enters the forest until the males takes off. Not all of them follow in her footsteps. Several branch off, splitting away from the main group, adding distance as they pass the tree line. One of the larger males charges in your direction, his speed immeasurably fast, almost a blur to your eye.
You throw yourself to the ground as he leaps. Above you, the tree violently shakes as he lands and pushes off, jumping to another. Hand over mouth, you wait until you cannot see him and the trees come to rest.
Slowly, you ease onto your knees, grabbing the tree to help haul you up to your feet. One step. Two. There is no rush, no need to run after them. It’ll only draw attention, and the point is to observe, not get in the way. You’ll keep back, follow at a distance, observe what you can, and record it all in your notebook. Bhatul will fill in the blanks.
Keeping to a crouch, you shift between the trees, listening for unusual sounds, watching for any movement. There is the wind, the occasional snapping of a twig, the buzz of insects, or a call of a bird. You’re not entirely sure what you’re listening for except the guttural grunts of mating.
You come to a stop. “What the fuck am I doing?” you groan, rubbing at your temples.
Observing a ritual of a secretive alien species that no one outside the species has seen? An amazing opportunity. Stumbling onto Yautja having sex? Less cool. In fact, not ideal.
Turning around, you take a step, intending to return the way you came. You’re mid-stride, determined, and then you’re flying, scooped off your feet by a large, powerful force. The impact is sudden and hard, temporarily pushing the air from your lungs, shoving you into a bout of dizziness.
Everything spins as you cling to whatever’s grabbed you, attempting to breathe through every jolt and jerk, yanked along like a children’s doll. Your captor lands, the impact shaking your bones. The hold around you loosens until you roll out of their embrace and onto the ground.
“I told you not to enter the forest.”
You turn onto your back, inhaling deeply through your nose, and exhaling through your mouth. You repeat the process until your hands stop shaking and there is no threat of falling if you stand.
You crack open your eyelids, staring up into Bhatul’s grim expression. “I’m observing. That’s what I do.”
He chuffs, mandibles flexing in agitation. “You do not understand.”
You prop yourself on your elbows. “Explain then.” Groaning, you sit up fully, rubbing at your neck and lower back. “Not like you said anything to begin with,” you mutter.
Bhatul releases a guttural snarl, quills swishing as he starts to pace. “This is a mating ritual. You are female.”
No shit you big idiot.
Slowly, you ease onto your knees, placing your palm against a nearby slab of rock to help ease the ascent. “I’m not Yautja. It doesn’t matter.”
Bhatul whirls on you, approaching with such ferocity you hit the rock in your attempt to back away. “It does matter. You are human but you are female.” He reaches out, one finger lightly tracing the side of your throat. “You give off a scent. Different from female Yautja. But we know it all the same.”
“You—you know—”
Bhatul leans in. “I smell it all the time.”
Female Yautja produce a specific pheromone when in heat, a signal to the males that she’s in her fertile window. Males don’t become senseless beasts. The instinct to reproduce heightens, and their behavior changes. They want to impress, to show the female their strength, that they are good providers and protectors, the fiercest hunter.
Humans don’t produce sex pheromones, but body odor can change, especially for people with female reproductive organs. Body odor can shift during different cycle stages because of hormone changes, but those changing odors don’t trigger sudden behavioral changes in other humans.
But Bhatul isn’t human. Yautja sense of smell is far stronger. What might be a mild shift in odor to you could be a beacon to him. You hadn’t considered it.
“What do you smell?” you ask tentatively.
Bhatul remains where he is. The space between your bodies is nonexistent. You are small and fragile compared to Bhatul’s height and broadness. He easily stands at two and a half meters. You have to bend your neck at a hard angle to look up at him.
“Sweet. Musky. Earthy.” He steps back. “You’re fertile.”
The urge to slap Bhatul increases by the second. You’d do it, too, if only you could reach his stupid face.
“But we can’t. Yautja and humans aren’t compatible.” Bhatul’s silence rings in your ears. He only stares, which makes it worse. “Bhatul.”
As much as Yautja look like monsters, their eyes are deep pools of expression. Bhatul’s gaze cuts through you, twisting your stomach with staunch clarity.
“Humans are worthy prey. They have killed many of our kind. They have skills we lack,” says Bhatul calmly.
You lick your lips, swallowing hard. “Bridge the gap.”
“What gap needs a bridge?” he huffs, glancing around as if one will appear.
“No,” you laugh, some of the anxiety ebbing. “It’s a human expression. It means closing a divide or reducing differences.” You bring your hands together, interlocking your fingers. “Adding the advantages to your species makes you better predators.”
Bhatul nods. “This is why you cannot enter the forest.”
“If I knew—”
“When Ahra is subdued and mating, the other males will follow your scent. Hunt you down. Fight each other for the chance to breed you.” You place your hands below his chest. It’s the easiest spot you can reach. Pushing against Bhatul does nothing to move him or shift you away, not with the slab of rock at your back.
“You walked in willingly.” Bhatul grasps your wrists, drawing your attention to his face. “That is consent. That you want to mate.”
“Take me back. Out of the forest.”
Bhatul shakes his head, his quills swaying. “Leaving will not change things.”
Prior anxiety returns, overwhelming and overloading. Your hands shake. “I don’t want this. I—” Bhatul’s head whips to the right, mandibles flexing, his forked tongue extending slightly to taste the air. “What?” you prompt. “What is it?”
“They’re approaching.” Bhatul’s attention returns to you. “Remove your clothes.”
“No!”
His next words come with a snarl. “It is me or them.”
Maybe if you close your eyes and curl up into a ball, this will all go away. You’ll backtrack, exit the forest, remain on your stump until the whole ceremony is over.
Bhatul, as if sensing your distress, relaxes a fraction. “Do you think I’ll harm you?”
No. I’m just scared.
You shake your head. “No. Not you.”
“I will fight them,” he reassures, “but it’s better to mate.”
A sad smile crosses your lips. “Accepting the mating means I’ve chosen.”
“Yes.”
“Will it stop them from fighting you?”
Bhatul shrugs. “There is always one male that fights.”
“Okay,” you sigh, shuddering. “Okay.”
You’re barely out of your clothes before Bhatul flattens you onto your back on the rock slab. Stretching out, his large frame covers the majority of your body, his weight balanced to keep you in place but not crush. Bhatul’s thick arms cocoon your head, his chin and the bottom of his mandibles brushing lightly against your scalp as he shifts.
Glancing down between your bodies, your heart drops into your stomach. At the tree stump, you received an up front and personal view of Yautja dick from Bhatul and the other males strutting around, chests puffed up as they flaunted for Ahra. What rests against your thigh isn’t some appendage swinging between their legs. This is supposed to go inside you.
Gulping, you press your face into Bhatul’s chest, hands grasping for a hold as he shifts his hips, his cock pressing against your pussy. Looking is impossible. You refuse. All you need to do is stay still for him and it will all be over sooner than you think. Bhatul will protect you from the other males. He won’t hurt you. He said so, but it’s his actions that yell over his words, the lack of aggression over these long months. Bhatul is fearsome. You’ve seen him spar with the other males, but there is none of that with you. Never.
Reaching down, Bhatul fists the base of his cock. As he pumps, large beads of opalescent semen emerge from the slit. Bhatul pumps and shakes, rubbing it all over your pussy. Every time the head of his cock brushes your clit, you bite back a moan.
Does he even know it’s there? Do female Yautja have one, perhaps something similar, or nothing at all?
“Makes penetration easier,” he says, voice low and gruff. The words come from his mouth, but even you understand the primal switch. Yautja males are not much different from human men.
Nuzzling his neck, you inhale deeply, counting down slowly to relax your muscles in anticipation. Bhatul’s response is rolling clicks that remind you of purring. It’s then that the head of him penetrates, a tight stretch that yanks a gasp from you. He thrusts deeper, and this time you crack, choking on a sob as the ribbed shaft rubs deliciously inside you.
Bhatul’s mandibles flex, that pleased clicking returning. “You are different,” he manages, before a loud crunch of breaking wood fills the air.
You freeze, a sudden chill seizing your limbs as Bhatul shifts into the predator he is. The position he takes is defensive but it is also a threat, bleeding aggression at the Yautja looking on. This male is the largest of the group, Ob-Adtoth, if you recall correctly. His skin is pale and yellowish with sections of dark mottling on the sides of his arms and legs. One mandible fang is missing. In its place is a metallic, artificial replacement. Behind him, you notice two other males, approaching slowly, keeping to the trees.
Go away. Go away.
You repeat it internally, pressing as much as yourself as you can to Bhatul’s chest. His embrace tightens, and while you cannot see his face, you can hear him.
There were times when you sat and watched some of the warriors in the practice rings, sparring for the sake of training. On observation, you took their roars for battle cries. They didn’t scare you, only amused you.
Bhatul’s roar in response to Ob-Adtoth’s does not amuse you. Almost otherworldly, the sound that emerges from him silences the forest, shakes the rock beneath you, ignites that innate flight response. It is a bloodied knife. Lethal force. A violent fist. Bhatul is marking his territory, warning the other males away.
Ob-Adtoth steps forward. Bhatul grasps the back of your head, forcing it back, exposing your neck. This is where you fight of flee, to escape danger though the threat is impossible to run from. Ob-Adoth’s mandibles flare wide but so do Bhatul’s.
Not with a roar. Not with anger.
Resting between his mandibles is your exposed neck. His teeth, each one a sharpened needle, touch your skin but do not break the barrier. The coppery tang of human blood is absent. It does not pool in Bhatul’s mouth or clog your throat. Nothing for him to swallow, and nothing for you to choke on.
Ob-Adoth’s chest puffs, shoulders squaring like he’s ready to charge. Bhatul lowers himself over your body, creating a protective shell. His hips shift back, his thick cock drawing out. It’s the thrust forward that has your eyes rolling, your little human teeth biting into Bhatul’s rough skin as he ruts.
Pain is absent. All you know is pleasure. It builds in thunderous waves, crashing against your skull, drowning. The forest is a distant thing, absent from your current reality. Between your legs is wetness, a fullness that borders on bursting, each thrust echoing in your stomach, until it feels like Bhatul is in your throat.
The orgasm is a severing. A snapped twig. The building pressure peaks, and then expands outward, temporarily stealing your breath and voice. Your body shudders, heart hammering, and then you’re moaning, bordering on screaming, the sound muffled as you bite harder into Bhatul’s skin. You vaguely notice bright green as your head falls back; Bhatul’s mandibles still locked around your throat.
Bhatul’s pace increases, and you ragdoll, unable to do much else. You don’t know if the other males still linger in the trees, or if they’re watching, waiting for him to finish, to strike out when they think he’s most vulnerable.
His arms, which were once a protective cocoon, lift you off the rock, bringing your bodies flush. Bhatul is no longer thrusting, only panting, his cock inside you but still. His mandibles flex, releasing your throat.
You turn your head, survey the forest. “They’re gone.”
Bhatul slowly withdraws his cock, and with it comes a rush of cum. He gently flips you onto your stomach, taking position again, easing his cock into your cunt until your toes curl and you whimper.
“No,” he says. “Maybe.” Your cheek meets cool rock, hands reaching to grasp the edges of the slab. Bhatul begins again. “I must mark what’s mine.”
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You got a job as a linguist to push paper and sit in the aircon. So, why is it that you find yourself sweating to death in the middle of an alien jungle, staring at Yautja warriors running at you with swords? This cannot be good.
ao3 // main masterlist // scientific guide masterlist
It was late when Tau stumbled through the door, lugging a huge canvas bag behind them. The fabric stretched taut at its seams, and it looked like the shape of whatever was crammed inside had sharp corners that jutted out, threatening to puncture the bag as they shlepped it down the skinny hallway.
Your space vessel was small, and the living quarters left much to be desired. You were lucky enough to have a private cell, but Tau had set up their cot in the operations terminal, keeping odd hours as they ran ping after ping, hunting down artifacts and ruins as you travelled through alien territory. Over the past two months, you’d slowly managed to commandeer what was intended to be their side of the cell, shoving the beds together, sleeping in absolute luxury.
As you chewed through a dry, mysterious ration bar, you sighed, thinking ruefully to yourself: Yeah, luxury. Right.
You peered out into the hall and watched Tau struggle. The lanky anthropologist glared up at you, throwing up their arms and complaining, “You just gonna stand there and watch, or are you gonna actually use those muscles for something other than the gym?”
Sighing, you shuffled into the main capsule of the station which served as the lab slash kitchen slash sitting room, and you helped lug the sack onto a large, flat table, dumping the contents out with a few good shakes.
From the mouth of the bag, three tablets fell onto the metal workstation, each covered in runic writing that you immediately recognized.
“Oh, fuck no. Take these back right fucking now, Taubert. I mean it.” You stepped away from the large stone tablets as if they had burned you.
“What? What’s wrong?” They came and stood beside you, looking over your shoulder at their haul.
The tablets were black with deeply-carved etchings, and the very first word was one that you knew quite well.
Hish-qu-Ten.
“This is a Yautja tablet, Tau. And I need you,” you lowered your voice, hoping the tablets couldn’t hear you, “to take these back to where you found them.”
“No,” Tau threw up their hands, “We need the credits, babe. And Yautja don’t come to this sector. Look.”
Tau showed you the scanner on their datapad, targeting Yautja-class ship signatures and cloaking devices. No trace. Not even a week-old pulse trail. You let out a long, ragged sigh.
“We don’t need the credits that bad. No one’s gonna want some smelly old tablets anyway,” you argued, stepping forward to inspect the writing again, your curiosity overwhelming your fear. “And these are ancient. Like… too ancient. Wait a minute…”
Tau called out over their shoulder, collapsing into their hammock in the operation bubble, “Good luck! Don’t wake me unless you wanna get stabbed.”
“Motherfucker.” You murmured under your breath.
But, your bark had lost its bite. As you took a closer look at the writing, you realized that these tablets had been written in Old Yautja, in a time between the rise of the Hish and the predators you knew - and avoided - so well.
When you’d signed on to be a xenolinguist for Ryzom Incorporated, you’d expected a boring office job full of run-of-the-mill translations and transcriptions. But, when Tau’s partner had fallen ill last season, you jumped at the chance to be on the scavenging – correction: salvaging – team. You still weren’t sure you’d made the right call. A find like this, though…
Tau’s left eye popped open, and they glared at you, “You’re loud. What did you find?”
“This is a prayer to the Goddess Kayana, and I think… No. That can’t be right.” You looked at the second tablet, trying to figure out the strange syntactic formations that were so different from modern Yautja. “I think it’s a map.”
“A map!” Tau leapt up, almost getting tangled in their hammock’s net, and stumbled over to you, “A map means treasure.”
You sighed, laying the three tablets out side by side, inspecting them more closely, “Treasure? Or just more broken pots and bowls? I know it’s the same to you, Tauchie.”
“I’m an anthropologist,” Tau shrugged, “Pots and bowls are where I shine. And if you throw a little gold leaf on the edge, rich schmucks will pour credits right into your grubby little hands.”
They made a grabby motion in front of your face, watching you stare past them to untangle the translation.
“This line here – the word jkh’iu – it’s changed forms over time but it’s a meeting place. Sort of like a gathering point. But, this word… naa’iish-i'ythei… I don’t think that’s right. It should be chi'ytei. No fucking clue what the nasal is doing in the beginning. And the second vowel is lengthened… a missing coda, perhaps.”
“I think I know some of those words you just said. Can you give me some map coordinates, or…?” Tau snapped impatiently.
“Tau,” you looked up at them, your eyes wide and threatening, “This is six thousand years old. Give me a goddamn minute.”
Tau sighed, but they plopped down into the creaky chair at the foot of the table and fidgeted just out of your reach.
You went back to the tablets, looking again, racking your brain for ideas on what this could mean.
“What’s a chai-yeti, anyways?” Tau quipped, badly mispronouncing the Yautja verbal participle.
Rolling your eyes, you tried to explain in terms that Tau’s dusty brain could understand. “Chi'ytei is from the root chiryt-, which means to hold or to embrace. The -ei suffix is typically the agentive case marker. Yautja – obviously – is an active-stative language. So that’s wh–”
“A what now?” Tau pursed their lips, not allowing you to go too far off on your tangent.
“Look, if I slap you,” which you very much wanted to do, “then I am the agent of the slapping, and you are the patient. So, in active sentences, for the most part, I mean… There are some exceptions in Kartvelian languages like Geor–”
“You’re about to be the patient of my slap, word girl.”
You closed your lips into a flat line, huffing through your nose, slowing your explanation down to cave-person speeds.
“In active sentences, the agent of the verb – the one who slaps – is the subject, and the patient – the one being slapped – is the object. So, in words like chiryt- you should expect an embracer and an embrace-ee. Comprende?”
“Okay, and so what’s the problem?”
“This isn’t an active sentence. It’s passive. Like… The lamp broke.”
“What lamp?”
“No! Like, in English, the sentence: The lamp broke. The lamp didn’t break anything. It didn’t like, stab itself.” You threw up your hands. “It was the thing being broken, so it should be the patient. But, it’s not the object; it’s the subject of the sentence. So, that’s why it’s passive.”
Tau’s eyes looked like they had glazed over. You regrouped.
“Okay, in this sentence, it says: Tharin-dhaa ket sh’ naa’iish-i'ythei drai m’lar'jha rki. Which word-for-word makes no sense. It would be something like: strength have for something hold, or embrace, within dark temple. Which, the last part just refers to a temple that is enclosed and not open to the elements or else it would be vayuh'ta rki, or something like that.”
“So, maybe like,” Tau waved their hands as if trying to come up with words on their own, “Have strength to embrace something in the temple?”
“Indoor temple,” you corrected.
“Indoor temple, right.” They put their hands on the sides of their head as if trying to keep their brains from slipping out through their oversized ears. “So what is the word you don’t know?”
“This one,” you pointed to the first tablet, “It’s spelled naa’ii- here. It could be naaniink, which means like a traditionally cooked clarified butter sauce, or it could be anaina, which means galaxy. I guess it could be nain-, but that’s not a word in Yautja. It’s just a participle.”
“What does it mean? Because I don’t think these mofos are holding butter sauce with strength in the temple, genius.” Tau’s snark was going to give you a fucking aneurysm.
“Well, nain-de means ‘to hunt’ in modern Yautja, or technically, it means ‘to cause to become prey’. Whatever. But, nain doesn’t appear by itself. It requires the causative marker.”
“What is a hunting embrace?” Tau scrunched up their nose, trying to solve the puzzle.
“No idea. But, I guess we’ll find out. Coordinates are marked on the last slab. Here ya go, tiger. Pots and bowls await.” You scribbled the coordinates onto their datapad and passed it over to them.
With a very annoying exclamation of glee, Tau jumped out of their chair and raced to the operations desk, typing in the heading and slamming the warp button, flinging the station into hyperspace. They were shouting over their shoulder at you, trying to talk above the whir of the engine core, “It’s really close! Should be there in no time. Suit up, soldier!”
“Me? You love getting your hands dirty. Think of the pots! The bowls! So much flatware. Exciting.” You tried to convince Tau to take your spot. You didn’t want to wander around some smelly old temple.
“No can do. I’m timed out for the week. Company policy. But, don’t worry! You’ll be fine.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
When you beamed yourself down to the planet’s surface, you decided that you most certainly were not fine. This place was a shithole.
The atmosphere was breathable, but it was hot and humid like a sauna in a rainforest. Everything around you was covered in some sticky sort of ivy, its tendrils wrapping around huge trees and overgrowing across the native shrubbery like a lime green blanket. The sky was egg yolk yellow, and a misty fog hung low over the ground, making your once-dry clothes very, very damp.
You saw the temple ahead, the angular Yautja architecture sticking out of the botanicals like a sore thumb. Their territorial race had very little need for aesthetics; it was all about efficiency.
“Ugh,” you groaned, tightening your empty rucksack around your chest and beginning the gross walk into the temple.
“Hey,” Tau’s tinny voice came through your headset, “I can hear you complaining down there.”
“Shut up.” You huffed, marching through the underbrush with a purpose.
Get in, get bowls, get out. That was your only job.
Once you got close to the temple, Tau started in on their pottery bullshit.
“Can you see any fragments yet? Evidence of their civilization? Rubbish piles are really common outsi–”
“I’m not digging through ancient trash, you fucking nerd. If I see a bowl, I’ll pick it up. I promise.”
“Wait -ksht- don’t -ksht- in the -ksht- there’s -ksht- out -ksht-”
“Tau?” You stopped walking. You put your hand on the headset as if your touch was somehow going to magically mend it. “Tau! Fix your shit!”
Nothing but static came back through your receiver.
“Tauko? Fuck!” You threw up your hands and marched into the large mouth of the temple.
Tau had promised to beam you back up in four hours, so you decided that you might as well get started on bowl hunting. At least you didn’t have to listen to their crap the whole time you were sweating your ass off down here.
The inside of the temple was surprisingly cool. The contrast to the absolutely steamy situation outside was a delight, and you stripped off your outer layer as soon as you could. Just like Tau said, there were some little piles of whatever rocks and broken bones and other useless snuts in the corners of the main entry way. You ignored them, hoping for more profitable finds deeper inside the structure.
You wanted rooms upon rooms, troves of treasure in piles so high that you couldn’t carry them – the real tomb-raider experience! But when you made it through the antechamber and into the main part of the structure, you realized that this was pretty much it.
Stretching out before you was a large stone pad surrounded by dark, black waters. You didn’t even want to guess what was lurking in there, so you steered clear of the edges, making a bee-line for the middle of the huge arching room. The ceiling of the structure must have been more than twenty meters high, and the urge to make your voice echo through the building was too great.
“Hello!”
Hello… hello… hello… Your own voice echoed back.
Suddenly, the entire room was bathed in an orange light emanating from the watery moat that surrounded you. A glowing wall blocked your exit and a voice came through the temple as your blood ran cold through your veins.
“Hey! Hey-hey-hey. No, don’t– Don’t commence! Stop commencing!”
The orange wall began to come towards you, and you backed up, quickly, until you were on the center of the circular pad. Luckily, the barrier wall stopped at the edge, keeping you prisoner.
You approached it, but it was very warm. Warm enough to know that if you reached out with your hand, it would burn you.
In a white flash of light, far outside the circle near the entrance, two figures beamed into the temple. Your heart stuttered hard enough to send a jolt of pain through your chest.
Yautja.
“Oh, fuck,” you felt your stomach sink into your feet. You were dead.
You pulled out your lampstick and brandished it like the world’s saddest weapon and held it in front of you. With any luck, the Yautja warriors would have to brush right past it as they came to chop you into little pieces.
You watched them take in their surroundings. They were a hunting pair. Although Yautja anthropology was never a topic you’d been interested in, you’d taken to the language quite well. You knew enough about them to understand the basics of their honor-based culture, intent on hunting the biggest and baddest prey in all of the galaxy, but beyond that, you were at a loss.
You should have spent more time in that xenoanthropology course back in uni. Maybe you’d have a better chance at surviving this encounter than relying on the flimsy, plastic light tube in your shaking hand.
But, it was too late for that, now.
The leader, the larger one, wore a full face mask with long tendrils hanging over his shoulders. He was in dark armor, and he strode up to you like he was in a big goddamn hurry. But, as he held out his sword, pointing at you, you watched in horror as the sword fell into your little circle and the rest of him… fucking disintegrated?
“Holy shit!” You backed away, but you tried not to step too far lest you would be vaporized as well. Then, thinking of a better plan, you scrambled for his fallen sword, tossing away your lampstick and trying your best to lift the heavy blade.
The handle was too thick for your small human hands, but it was well-balanced, and so you managed to hang on.
“Stay back!” You shouted at the other one, “Or I’ll… I’ll zap you, too, motherfucker!”
You said a series of prayers that the orange circle would hold, and you watched the other hunter remove his helmet and roar in a fit of rage over his fallen companion.
“Ell-osde pauk, lou-dte kalei!” He shouted, his mouth widening as he snapped his fangs at you.
With your extensive knowledge, you could translate a Fuck you, bitch! in just about any language, and modern Yautja was no different. But, the computer voice that the orange light belonged to decided that you needed to hear it in English, as well. “Fuck you, weak child-bearer,” the synthetic voice translated flatly.
You sighed, knowing enough to understand that these people didn’t do apologies. So, instead of trying to get him to see reason, you doubled down.
“Yeah? Fuck you, too, buddy. Come a little closer and get zapped!” You brandished the sword in what you hoped was a threatening way.
“Sei’i? Ell-osde'pauk-dhak’de, mei'hswei. Dtai'k-dte nini s’ thei-de-ket!” The ancient computer voice translated your threat for you.
“Gee, thanks,” you mumbled sarcastically, unable to hold back your annoyance at this machine.
He replied with a sickening roar, which apparently did not warrant a translation. Then, he came closer to the circle, raising his weapon above his head and bringing it down in a slashing motion. His blade cut through the force field, accomplishing nothing.
The Yautja looked at you, and you looked back at him, both of you a little uncertain. Then, just as he was about to step away, the stone plate that he was standing on glowed red hot and then flashed, killing him as it sliced him in half vertically.
Green, glowing Yautja blood sprayed across your face and you couldn’t help but scream. Then, as your cry echoed out into the temple, it was quiet again. The half-body of the warrior lay oozing in front of you, and you tried not to gag.
But, just as you were about to try and reconnect to Tau’s signal, the orange forcefield flickered and went dark.
“No…” You stared at the space in horror, waving your arm tentatively in front of where it should be, begging it to come back on. “No! Computer! Hey! Come back. Please-please-please. Oh, my God, please come back. Open! Hey! Hello! Oh, fuck…”
You stood there, shaking like a leaf with no idea what to do. You wanted to run but it was like your body was glued to the spot.
Then, you realized, you had the worst luck ever.
In the same place where the others had materialized, another white flash broke through the shadows of the temple. A lone Yautja stood at the entrance, and he held a long sword in his hand. Upon seeing the body of his fellow warrior, he approached with caution, his eyes gleaming in the low light of the building.
You shouted, “Don’t come any closer!”
The computer did not translate for you. Thirty minutes was apparently your limit on this particular ride.
“Uh…” You tried to translate as best you could, “M-di chiva s’ ell-osdha! No trial for you! Go back. Um, go back s’ tyioe-ti-elln, while you still can. Alright?”
You raised the sword up a little more, trying to keep the tip from shaking in your weakening grip.
Then, he looked at you with a curious expression, and he replied in a growly, guttural sort of English. “You come to temple of Kayana on night of blood moon, ooman, and you kill two hunters.” If Yautja could smile, he would be wearing one right now, “You are worthy mate. Blessing of Kayana will be mine.”
The Yautja hunter stepped closer, advancing on you with confidence. His green-hued skin was dotted with brown and black spots, and you could see now just how much bigger he was than you by comparison. His body was immense, and his muscles made him wide and imposing, the prominent scars of past injuries raised on the surface of his flesh, the flesh dark and gnarled where he had been cut and bitten and who knows what other wounds.
“Woah, woah… what?” You held up one of your hands and backed away slowly. “Did you say mate?”
“You test my strength as well.” He seemed intrigued but not surprised. “Good. I will feel your wrath against me.”
Then, he rushed you. With whatever survival instinct you had left, you slid out from his open-armed swipe and tried to cut at his leg with the blade that you’d stolen. But, he was too quick for you, and your sword hit nothing but air.
“I killed them!” You shouted. “And I’ll kill you, too! Leave while you still can.” You hoped your threat would be enough.
“Leaving this naa’iish-i'ythei is dishonorable.” The male’s face twisted into a sort of expression of disgust. Then, he studied you closely, and he asked, “What do they call you, ooman?”
“Um… uh…” You dug into your brain for any name that wasn’t yours, and all you could come up with was a load of nothing.
“Um’ah?” The Yautja clicked his mandibles together for a moment, and he stepped a little closer, almost within sword-reach. “I am Khet. You know our ways or else you would not come here. You survived the trial, you are compatible, but you are too weak. Submit to me, Um’ah.”
You swiped out at him in rage, and he side-stepped you, chuckling a little bit to himself.
“My brothers tired you. Still, for ooman…” Khet stepped forward in a flash of movement, grabbing you around the throat, your body immediately dropping the sword in order for you to use both hands to try and free yourself, all while your attacker studied you like a puzzle. “I am impressed.”
You scratched and clawed at his hand, gasping for air, choking on your own fear and desperation, and he seemed to take some sort of sick pleasure from your struggle. But then, you managed to swing your leg up high enough to kick him right in the mouth, your boot making contact with those sharp fangs.
Khet dropped you, lifting his hand to his face, but he didn’t look injured. Just annoyed. He reached for your throat again but you dodged him, and he only caught your shoulder.
“Let me go!” You screamed and wriggled out of his grip while he was still stunned by your kick.
Then, you sprinted for the exit. You had only taken two or three steps before Khet had you by the leg, slamming you to the ground and dragging you beneath him.
“So much fire in you.” His yellow eyes dilated as he looked upon your face. You could feel his hot breath and body bearing down on you, inspecting you like a piece of meat. “We will make fearsome beasts together. I have no clan, but you will be my mate. With Kayana’s blessing, my honor returns.”
“No!” You shouted, and then your voice turned from a wail into a whimper, “No! Please…”
“You are in heat; I smell it, and you are in no shape for another fight. Yet you resist me. You know it is my way.” He purred like a large cat. You could feel the rumble of it against your ribs as he pinned you down with his immense weight. “Fire and softness. You make me hunger, Um’ah, but I will honor your way as you have honored mine. Ooman males put their pricks through your flat fangs, yes?”
Khet used a clawed finger to press your mouth open, touching the bottom row of your teeth to feel their smooth edges.
You tried to rip your head away from him, but he held your jaw fast.
Then, Khet grabbed you by the back of your head and dragged you up to your knees, sliding you around easily on the stone floor of the temple.
You looked up at him from your crumpled vantage point, and something inside of you couldn’t help but admire his obvious power. This Yautja could crush every bone in your body like you were nothing but an eggshell. So breakable.
And yet, he didn’t.
He touched your face and neck with his clawed hands, feeling the smooth swell of your bottom lip.
“Let me go back to my ship,” you begged him.
“Enough games. I will have this blessing.” His dark eyes narrowed, and you stared back at him for a moment before deciding that sucking him off might truly be the path of least resistance.
You raised your hands, and at first, he took it as an attack, yanking your hair hard enough to knock you off balance. So, you moved more slowly, carefully righting yourself so that you were face to face with his crotch. His prick was covered by a thin strip of black suede; a loin cloth of sorts, and you pulled it aside to reveal his enormous cock.
The body of it was a dark olive brown color like the rest of him, but there were green and black spots on the underside, almost like an over-ripe banana. Between his balls and the underside of his shaft, there were plush, furling folds, almost like labia, all hanging down like wet petals, and you wondered how they felt. You watched him throb under your appraisal, and when you reached forward, the Yautja’s chest began to purr again, deeper this time, lulling you into a sort of trance.
You lifted the heavy appendage up to your mouth, bringing the tip to your lips to suck. The moment you pressed a soft kiss to the covered head of it, he groaned, tightening his grip in your hair.
His foreskin was extremely thick and pliant. It was like a generous layer of velvet was surrounding the impossibly rock-hard dick that it covered, and the more you tried to fit in your mouth, the fuller your cheeks became. Pulling your head back didn’t take him out of your throat; it only rolled the soft foreskin down, leaving you to swallow and choke against him.
“Oh, yes,” Khet groaned, “Ooman ways are strange, but I like this very much. More, Um’ah.”
Khet began to thrust himself inside of you, slowly at first, and you struggled to breathe. Your jaw was stretched at its limit, and you could taste the first briny drips of his precome on the back of your tongue.
Then, once he understood the mechanics, he used his strength to pull your face up and down his length. You felt your body writhing, trying to find air, the urge to choke unbearable. Hot tears welled up in your eyes, and you did everything you could to find a way to breathe.
Khet didn’t seem to react to your teeth grazing his length as you struggled beneath him. In fact, he seemed fond of dragging his cockhead along your smooth molars, not that there was really any room for him to avoid them.
When he hit the back of your tongue, he pushed your head down on him with force, making you deepthroat his huge prick while your mouth oozed drool onto the stone floor of the temple.
“Mrrghh… Um’ah… You make me want to spill inside your smooth fangs… So warm…”
Khet was losing his mind. You could see his eyes roll back in his head, his thrusting becoming frantic. You didn’t fight him. Once you made him come, you could probably escape while he was dazed. So, you tried your best to remain pliant, and you used your tongue to rub against the veiny, fat body of his cock, encouraging him to fill your belly. You ignored the tears that were now falling down your cheeks, and you tried to keep yourself from passing out, sucking in air through your nose when you could.
But, he was too large. You realized with a sort of sickening thought that he was still not even fully hard. You felt him swelling against your lips, watching as those hanging petals of his also began to swell, filling for what reason you didn’t know, and you sent up a silent manifestation into the cosmos that Tau would beam your ass out of here…
“Um’ah!” Khet groaned, and he buried himself inside of your throat as far as he physically could, crushing your nose into his pubic bone, pumping hot spurts of his come deep into your belly. It was so warm that you could feel it settling inside of your middle, filling your empty stomach with his orgasm.
As he held you against him, you knew you should feel scared, perhaps even disgusted. You were being used like a sex toy by this two meter tall, green, scaly, fanged monster, and you should be pissing yourself with fear.
And yet…
You could feel a tell-tale wetness pooling between your legs, and you felt a hot flush creep up your neck and across your cheeks, the fire of your shame burning you up.
A low growl came from the male above you, and you could feel his clawed hands drag through your scalp, petting your hair away from your face. You looked up at him from below, and you saw his chest heaving, his fanged maw clicking together in a curious, pleased sort of way, and there was something boyish in his eyes, now.
“Smooth fangs feel good.” He clicked his mandibles a little more, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “Um’ah is so soft…”
Khet pulled himself from your mouth in one long, slick movement, and he released your head. Immediately, you slumped forward, catching yourself on your palms against the cold stone floor, coughing from the tight burn in your throat and watching as syrupy lines of spit and alien come pooled from your lips.
Suddenly, you felt Khet’s enormous hand tug at your flimsy shirt, raking it over your head like he was tearing open a present. Then, he yanked down your trousers, taking your panties with them, and when they got caught around your boots, he simply pulled harder. It was at that moment that you realized the truth: this man – entity – was being gentle with you.
You watched him carefully as you trembled in the cool open air of the temple, still crawling on the ground, trying to catch your breath.
Assuming he would jump right into action, you steeled yourself for his assault, but he did not rush. He discarded your clothing, dumping your shoes and pants into a messy pile, but he didn’t advance on you.
There was no hurry to his movements. There was no rage in his eyes. He simply watched you. Studied you.
Khet carefully bent down next to you, his cock still dripping sticky strings of come beneath his loin cloth, and his clawed fingers traced their way over your soft skin, playing with your flesh and squeezing your body where he thought you might be the most delicate. He found your nipple, and he skimmed across it, petting your hanging breasts like you were made out of lace.
His gentleness now stood in dark contrast to the violent suffocation you’d just experienced when he fucked your face.
Khet touched himself as he watched you recover, unhooking his loin cloth and laying it over your clothes. But, he didn’t grope you roughly. He was still trying to be easy with you.
And only when his desire overcame him, only when the need to mate made his prick throb and bounce against his thick torso, did he approach you again, positioning you on your hands and knees in front of him, grabbing your thighs and spreading them wide, the angle of the stretch making you fall forward, your cheek planted to the cold ground.
You took a deep breath and held it. You’d be injured by his cock; you were sure. There was no way your pussy could take his inhuman size.
But his cock wasn’t what you felt against your wet sex. It was a long, writhing tongue.
Your lungs let out the rush of air you were keeping inside, and the breath shook as it escaped, hissing around your clenched teeth.
When you looked behind you, Khet was kneeling, his face low and hovering right behind your holes, his huge alien tongue dragging across your slit and through your folds, tasting your pussy.
“Khet…” You whispered. “Stop. Let me go.”
He stopped licking you, and he let out a broken, chuffing noise. The huge male positioned himself over you, as if he would fuck you from behind, and he bent his chest down until it was flat across your back. At the same time, you felt his cock slip along the outside of your pussy, through your lips, and then over your mons and your belly, and when he finally ran out of rope, the head of his prick was bobbing much too close to your sternum for your liking.
Khet fisted himself and unceremoniously slapped his sticky cockhead against your tummy, making a point to let you feel how big he was. He spoke to you in a low voice, “H’ko, Um’ah. I cannot.”
“Please…” You closed your eyes and lay your cheek back on the ground, losing hope every moment that this ordeal dragged on. He was going to kill you with that thing.
“Kayana demands my restraint.” He sighed, and you felt him press one of his fingers between your legs, bullying its way into your hole, surprisingly careful with the claw. He struggled to fit, and you couldn’t help but let out a grunt as you tried to relax around his hand. Then, Khet leaned his head down to your ear, and you could see his gleaming mandibles up close as he whispered to you, “If I do not lick you open, my nok will break you.”
Nok. A Yautja unit of measurement, equivalent to a short cubit. Thirty centimeters.
Khet was talking about his cock.
His thirty centimeter long cock.
You let out an involuntary shudder, and your reaction earned you more of his amused fang-clacking and chuffing. But, he leaned back, repositioning his mouth between your spread thighs. “I honor Kayana. Her temple accepts me. H’ka-se, ke dari-ki s’ kjuhte-kiin.”
In your mind, the syntax came late, but you understood him fully.
Now, I will taste my little void.
You peered around your shoulder and watched him spread his mandibles wide, and as he fixed his fangs around your thighs, encircling them with his dextrous outer mouth, you were immediately treated to the full length of his snake-like tongue as it burrowed its way deep inside of you.
It was endless, and it was hot. The thick ribbon of his muscle slithered between your walls, tasting and exploring every bit of your insides.
Then, when he reached some sort of end, a place so far beyond where you had ever imagined things could go within your anatomy, Khet began to purr. That same low rumble that you had felt before was now rolling in staccato waves through your hips and thighs and pussy, heightening every single sensation to a mind-numbing degree.
His tongue retreated, and then it laved through you again, folding and curling into your cunt, allowing your mate to suck down swallow after swallow of your wet pleasure.
You couldn’t help but cry out, keening loudly into the empty temple. Just steps away from you, the bodies of the fallen hunters lay forgotten on the floor, and you couldn’t have cared less about them. Right now, you didn’t even know your own name. All you knew was the wriggling invasion of Khet’s tongue, the vice grip he had on each of your thighs with his fangs, and the thrumming vibration of his purr as it wrecked your body.
As you looked behind you, you met Khet’s gaze. He was staring at you from his inescapable position against your sex, and you noticed that - all around you - the temple had begun to glow.
It wasn’t orange this time. The light that came from the pools was a sort of greenish blue. It was faint, but it creeped across the floor and up the wall, slowly getting brighter and brighter.
Khet swiped his tongue over your asshole, and you gasped, the pleasure of it immediately shocking you.
“Wait…” You tried to plead with him, but what the hell were you going to do to stop him?
So, with little recourse, his tongue pressed between your tight, unfucked rim. You tried to relax. You felt yourself shivering from the new feeling, and the deeper he licked into your hole, the louder you screamed.
You turned your head, trying to see what he was doing, your mind desperate to regain some semblance of control over your body. But, now, he was licking into both of your holes, and you were about to come.
You could feel the bubbling pleasure of it, lingering just on the edges of yourself. Every time Khet rolled another deep purr through you, you tried to fight the urge to come.
He was very fair with his tasting. He would lick inside of you one hole at a time; once for your asshole, once for your cunt. As steady as a drumbeat. You felt like you were being fucked by two men, one in each pleasure-hot sheath. When one would press forward, the other would retreat. And now, Khet could feel your bliss building. He could smell it. Hell, he could probably see your heat rising across your skin.
“No. Fuck…” you whispered, but there was no stopping it. With no small amount of embarrassment and a little dread, you confessed to him: “You’re making me come.”
The purr became a growl, but he changed nothing else. You rode his mouth, your hips jerking forward, your muscles battling against his powerful jaws, trying to close your legs. But, it was futile. You came hard, fully open, and you felt something pooling at the entrance of your pussy only to be immediately licked clean by your mate’s hungry, deft muscle.
Khet was slowing his movements, and you noticed he was spending most of his time at the edge of your cunt, slurping and sucking at your creamy orgasm, making the most lurid noises you’d ever heard in your life. You were still coming down from your high, your body convulsing, humping his tongue shamelessly at this point, every bit of your human instinct humiliating you in this ancient sanctum.
You hoped, at least, Goddess Kayana was proud of you, whoever she was.
When you had the strength to open your eyes again, that same blue light pooled around you, moving through the cracks in the stones as if it was alive. You reached out to touch it, and although you did not instantly get sliced in half, there was an energy there. Something powerful brushed against your mind.
You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore. When Khet released you, your knees immediately gave out. But, instead of letting you crumple to the floor again, he held you up with his hands, one on each side of your hip. You sagged against the stones, feeling like you’d been drugged.
Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw it. Your sword. It was almost within reach. You twisted your arm and reached for it; a last ditch effort, but your fingers barely brushed the handle, and the metal skidded away from you, sliding out of your grasp by only a few inches.
Khet reached forward with his clawed fist, grabbing your wrist in his grip and pulling your arm up. He raised your body until you were on your knees with your back to his chest, vertical and trapped against him.
His other arm curled around your belly, keeping you upright, and he stood with you still held tightly against his body. He snarled into your ear in Yautja, “Dtai’k-osde s’ bpi-de, kjuhte-iin, ay-i ell ket m-di h'chak…” Your fight is over, little void, and yet you have no mercy.
“H’kodin.” None. You answered with a nasty curl across your lip.
You felt his enormous prick throb against your lower back, like a reward for your bloodlust, and he let out a long purr. “Ell ket yin’tekai-osde. Ell s’ thar’n-de. Pyode r’ka-kiin…” You have your honor. You are strong. My soft little fire… “Ell kale-ki sain’ja-non gahn'tha-cte.” You will create ruthless warriors with me.
Khet placed your hand on the back of his neck, and you understood that you should hold onto him. With his hand now free, he traced the length of your arm, trailing the backs of his knuckles over your armpit and along the curved swell of your breast. Finally, he reached between your bodies and lifted his hard cock, notching his tip in the pliant sling of your hole’s entrance.
Your mate pressed forward, and you hissed through your teeth in a mixture of pleasure and pain. He was too big.
“Nnghhh… No… Too big… Anngh! Please, Khet… Please…” You whimpered, and you heard his fangs chittering together behind your head.
He took himself away, and then pressed forward again. This time, he slipped inside of you, just his head, the plush foreskin rolling down to reveal his bright green glans. You breathed deeply, willing yourself to become soft for him, to relax your insides, to accept him.
You weren’t sure where your sudden motivation was coming from, other than your stubborn will to survive this coupling, but as you allowed yourself to sink further and further down his throbbing prick, Khet’s purring grew louder, soothing you and making your breaths deep and even.
“Nok-osde s’ ki’kain-desintje-de…” Your cock is so hard for me… You murmured, using your new vocab word, grabbing him tighter, knowing that you couldn’t hurt him. When you looked back at his face, his body was bathed in the swirling aquamarine light of the temple. Every stone and pillar and pool was now glowing with veins of fluorescent power, pulsing bright in the large sanctum.
“Sei-i, Um’ah,” Khet growled into your ear, “Kaale-oske z'kvy-ti.” Make yourself come.
Without hesitation, you reached between your legs and started to play with yourself, your fingers slipping into their usual places, framing the hard body of your clit and making delightful little ovals at speed. Between the thickness of his invasive cock and the agile familiarity of your own touch, it was mere moments before you felt yourself clenching around him, the first pricklings of your orgasm sparkling along your nerves.
As your legs dangled in the air, held aloft by Khet’s strong arm, you reached down lower between your thighs to explore yourself. When you found your entrance, you could feel the juicy coating of your own come that covered your skin, and when you touched the thin sling of your pussy that held his cockhead inside of you, the flesh was so sensitive that even just your fingertip was too much. So, you reached further, and you touched his shaft, rolling your palm over his cock’s body to please him.
His hips rocked forward, taking you with him, and he snarled against your neck. You returned your hand to your clit and touched yourself with intent, speedy and efficient. Your pussy squeezed in on itself, milking his swollen head like a fist.
“Pauk…” Fuck… Khet dragged his fangs along your neck, opening his mandibles until you felt his inner mouth brush against your skin. The teeth there were just as sharp, and he set them against your throat.
But, oddly, you didn’t feel any fear. You knew he would not kill you with them. He was your mate. He would protect you from anything and everything in this galaxy until he took his last breath.
As you worked on yourself, Khet’s prick continued to dip inside of you and then pull out, each time going little further than his glans, but just the stretch of him was enough to make your cunt sopping wet. The feeling of him entering you over and over and over was driving you insane.
Using the hand that was on his shoulder, you moved it up to the back of his head, weaving your fingers through the long tendrils of his mane, and you pressed his mouth down onto you, commanding him: “Dari-osde s’ ki-thwei, kv’var-de. Mmff–” Taste my blood, hunter. “Mmmgh… Shit!”
You were so close to coming. Your hand was sore, and your arm was tired, but you willed yourself to continue, frantically teasing your clit at a merciless pace. Then, when you felt Khet press the sharp tips of his fangs to your neck, you knew he would send you over the edge.
When he bit you, you came hard. “Khet!” You cried out for him, and your eyes shot open, your face pointed upwards towards the glowing arched ceiling of the temple, watching as the blue and green lights swirled and danced for you, almost as if they were celebrating your pleasure.
As you continued to come, your pussy squeezed him all the way out of you, and you heard a splatter of your release spray onto the stone floor of the temple. Your whole body twisted in on itself, and the only reason you didn’t crash to the ground was because of Khet’s unyielding strength.
He hadn’t bitten you very hard, but you could feel his tongue lapping up your blood, healing your wound with the same mouth that had caused it in the first place. He was purring so loudly, you could feel it through your entire body, and when he tried to press himself back inside of you, he could sink himself inside. Your pussy was still throbbing, still twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you were soft for him, just like he needed you to be.
Khet’s cock cleaved you open wider and wider for him, each pass letting him reach further than before.
With the hand that you had been using to pleasure yourself, you lay it on your lower belly and felt the outline of his bulge each time he slid all the way inside of you.
Your touch on the outside of your belly made him purr deeply, and he was breathing harder, all the while snarling his dark promises into your ear. “Kjuhte-kiin…” My little void… “Ell s’ ven’ke ni’naa’iish-i'ythei, es’ ke s'aseigan-ki.” You came here to be bred, so I am your servant.
You listened to the wet, smacking sounds that your body made against his in the echoing temple. Each time that Khet found the end of your sopping hole, you thought you could feel something being left behind. It was so hard to describe. It was like he was painting your womb with a gooey adhesive, making your cunt stickier and stickier with every swipe.
Khet still wasn’t fully inside of you, yet. And now, you knew why. Aside from his immense length, the furling labia between his shaft and his balls were now fully engorged. There were four of them, and you could feel them with your hands when you reached between your legs.
Each swollen lobe was as thick as your thumb, and they were all as rigid as his cock. When you touched them, Khet growled very deeply. It was a new noise from him; one that went right to your clit.
Khet nuzzled against your nape, his breaths exciting the sensitive nerves just below your hairline as he spoke to you in broken phrases, “Neye-de, kjuhte-kiin… neye-desintje-de…” Soon, my little void… very soon…
You were so full that your pussy was sort of riding a wave of pleasure. You felt it waxing and waning as Khet thrust himself inside of you, and when his cockhead dragged cruelly against your most sensitive spots deep within you, you felt yourself respond. Your heart raced, your cheeks grew hot, your fingernails dug into his arm and his shoulder as you hung on for dear life. Then, you would crash. Your orgasm would rip through you, and Khet would fuck you as you came, the sounds of your own silken heat sluicing out of your well-used hole.
And he was still gentle. Not gentle compared to a human – your past lovers had been far easier on you physically than Khet – but for a dominating, all-powerful, alien race, he was actually kind of… sweet. He let you fall apart through each one of your orgasms, and he never threatened you, and he didn’t shame you. Which, in fact, was more than you could say for some Terran males.
But, yes, you admitted to yourself as you opened your mouth to accept his reptilian tongue down your throat, his face was… difficult to come to terms with. And yet, somehow, you were growing fond of watching him enjoy you, the way he would worry his fangs against each other as he watched his cock spread you apart, those hunter’s eyes rapt and calculating as he bred your soft, weak human body.
Suddenly, Khet paused his thrusts, letting you come down from your most recent blissful spiral in relative peace. He removed himself in a wet schlep of disconnection, and he lay you on your back against the floor of the temple. You were still in the middle of the circle, but when you came to your senses and took a look at your surroundings, the dark temple was no longer cold and shadowed. It was full of light. The blue-green hues were a watercolor of luminescence, and the way they danced across Khet’s attentive face made you catch your breath.
Goddamn, he was massive. Your mind kept normalizing him for you, but when you saw him kneeling between your legs, holding each of your ankles in his immense clawed fists, you realized that you were just a pet to him. The physicality between you was too disparate. You’d never be equals. You didn’t stand a chance, actually. What had you gotten yourself into?
But, all that worry dissipated when Khet let go of one of your legs and positioned himself back inside the cradle of your cunt, thrusting himself forward in a loud, wet snap. Then, you had a new dilemma.
The engorged lobes of his cock were throbbing and full. He edged them inside of you, and the stretch you felt was searing.
Khet leaned forward, pinning your ankles against his chest, pressing your thighs into your belly as he knelt over you. Now that you were face to face, you could study his expressions, and you found them surprisingly easy to read. He was full of wanting, and yet he knew he had a responsibility to you.
He spoke quietly, his rough voice desperate to soothe you before he completed his task. “Ell ket-osde m-di h'dlak, kjuhtiin.” Do not be afraid, little void.
“Mmmhhh… Khet… I can’t…” You held onto his neck, your fingers rolling across his tendrils, canting your hips, trying to find some relief.
“Grrrnnhhhgh! Um’ah!” Khet shouted, his voice filling the high ziggurat and echoing around you.
He pressed, and you cried out at the burn, but suddenly, his swollen cock popped into place, and you realized that his swollen petals were emptying inside of you through the head of his prick. Khet was growling and crying out into the temple, his muscles snapping as he fought the feeling of his orgasm, his clawed hands leaving little bleeding impressions on the meat of your thigh.
All around you, the temple glowed like a star. You watched the pools beam their light around you, and on the stones, rivers of light rushed towards your bodies, warming you and making your skin buzz with energy.
Deep inside of your pussy, you could feel an almost foaming sensation. There was a lot of heavy, creamy fluid, but as it mixed inside of you, stirring with each one of Khet’s powerful throbs, you could feel it becoming viscous and pasty. It wasn’t rushing out of you like you assumed it would. True, your cunt was stuffed so full that you couldn’t imagine anything else fitting inside, but you expected the warm dribble of his seed and it never came.
Instead you started to feel yourself get heavy. You put your hand back onto your lower belly, right over your womb, and you were so shocked to find a round distention… and it was warm. With each pump of sticky come, Khet kept filling you up. As you looked at your tummy, you tried to breathe, but you were panicking.
“Wh–What… I can’t… Khet, I can’t –”
Khet nuzzled against you, purring hard, holding your body close to his chest, chittering at you in what felt like a comforting way. You were panting so hard, trying to settle yourself, laying your cheek on his shoulder, and you trembled as he peered down at you, fearful of what might happen to you now.
“What’s happening to me, Khet?” Your voice was something lower than a whisper, but you knew he would still hear you.
“Kayana accepts us, kjuhte-kiin. My seed stays in you,” he leaned back, and he ran his hand over your round belly, “Here.”
Over the next few breaths, you felt Khet’s cock slow its throbbing, and when he finally was able to pull himself free, you felt a wet gush, but not as much as there should have been. You tried to sit up, but you were dazed. The room spun, and the lights were too strong. You reached out to balance yourself, and Khet helped you to your knees.
You looked down at your belly again and marvelled at the roundness he had made within you, and you knew that you would be pregnant. This was some otherworldly biology, and this temple had done something between you. You were having this Yautja’s child.
So, what were you going to do? If you went back to your space station, they would sell you to the first lab that would pay them. A hybrid alien child? That seems like an expensive mistake. You couldn’t go back.
Khet was kneeling with you, and you watched him unwrap a chain from around his huge shoulder. Then, before you even realized what was happening, you felt him clip it around your neck. The collar clicked together, locking in place.
“Ki’tyioe-ti s’ vayuh'ta-kesh.” My ship is in orbit. Khet explained, “Ki taa’h kantra-osde sh’ chiva bpi-de-iz.”I will recite the prayer to end our ritual.
“S’non?” And? You asked, feeling the worry paint itself across your face.
Khet looked down at you and touched your cheek with his hand, petting you as if you were a precious thing. Then, he clicked his fangs together and tilted his head, telling you, “Ki-ket’osde.” I have you. Khet leaned down and put his forehead against yours for a moment, and he leaned back, staring into your eyes, whispering in his low, gravelly voice, “Ki-ket’osde, Um’ah. Zi ah’lo-kwesh s’Toh-zi.” I have you, Um’ah. We will follow our Path.
Khet helped you stand, and on shaking legs, you stood behind him and watched him put his loin cloth back on. He didn’t even bother to dress you, and you watched as he took out a ritualistic dagger from his belt, turning it over in his hands. Then, he stood over the center stone, and lifted the dagger high into the air, straight above his head.
“Kayana-omo’k! O-shu-ki kantra-d’ki!” Goddess Kayana! Hear my prayer! Khet shouted into the temple. “O-yin'tekai naa’iish-i'ythei-zi.” Honor our coupling.
Khet drove the knife downward into the stone circle, and all of the light in the temple converged upon him, and he was washed in a bright, powerful beam. The whole room turned, and you watched as the black pools of liquid erupted, soaking through the temple and flooding the flat room. It started to rise up to your ankles, threatening to wash you away.
Khet turned his head to look at you, and he reached out his hand. You took it; you didn’t even question it. You just grabbed his palm and stepped into the light.
This collab is made possible with the amazing @gloomwitchwrites!
(A/N: I had a dream last night so yeah... Enjoy this dirty drabble~ 🖤)
ℕ𝔼𝔼𝔻
Rating: 18+
Pairing: Multiple Yautja Males x Female Reader
Synopsis/Excerpt: You stopped resisting. Body a canvas of bites and scratches, so close to becoming fully claimed.
⚠️WARNINGS/TAGS: Dark themes, non-con, dubious consent, claiming bites, groping, sexual overstimulation, pain kink, size difference, dacryphilia, interspecies sex, reader is a sex slave.
Yautja males are initially curious about how soft and pudgy a human female can be, prodding and squeezing the pliant flesh of your curves, eyes zeroed in on how it spills through the gaps of their fingers.
Curiosity quickly spirals into lustful anticipation.
Attempting to divert their hands away from your person was near impossible, your strength like that of a butterfly's and holding no real power against theirs. They then held your arms apart, a yautja holding a wrist on either side of you to limit your struggles. You held your breath when the others closed in on you.
The sight of their scarred and battle-hardened hands mapping out every inch of your naked body had you squeezing your thighs together, biting your lower lip hard to suppress your moans and ignore the steady throbbing of your clit as arousal quickly set in.
A whimper escapes your lips when they squeezed at your closed thighs, sharp nails scraping the surface of your skin and creating red welts on your body. The slight pain adds more fuel to the fire, your body jolting forward when one of them boldly squeezes at your heaving chest from behind. The harder he groped, the more beautifully you mewled, unsuccessful in resisting the delicious sensations of his firm hands milking your chest. A stunned croak left you when another squeezed at the pudge layering your tummy, face heating with embarrassment at their audacity for grabbing something you viewed as an imperfection on yourself.
Kicking in retaliation, you tried your hardest to fight them off and shy away from their daring touches. You feared that if you let them continue further, it would only get worse. Already you could feel your body betraying you, the wetness sloshing between your thighs a mutiny against your panicking thoughts and warring mind. You shook your head in denial, refusing to acknowledge the rivulets of cum running down your inner thighs, refusing to feel your nipples hardening into tight buds when tongues slithered to tease them, refusing to hear the gasping moans when hands squeezed hungrily at your ass before striking it again and again to observe it ripple.
It was soon becoming too much. A pathetic sob warbled out of your drooling mouth when several tusked faces clamped down on the fat of your breasts, hips and ass and licked away the blood budding from the wounds. They lapped languidly at the sweat coating your body, purring with pleasure at your taste before finding more areas to mark with their fanged teeth. Tears sprinkled the corners of your eyes the longer the sweet torture continued.
You stopped resisting. Body a canvas of bites and scratches, so close to becoming fully claimed.
The unmistakable scent of your arousal permeated the air around them, your pheromones causing several yautjas eyes to roll to the back of their head while others were quick to disrobe and release their hardened lengths from the confines of their armor.
Hungry growls responded to your body's needs.
Strong hands found your knees and applied pressure, spreading them fully to continue their exploration...
(A/N (again): worst part of the dream was waking up before the real fun could begin *SCREAMING AND TEARING MY HAIR OUT*)
Summary: Abducted from Earth and thrust into the brutal markets of Yautja Prime, you find yourself caged and sold as an exotic slave to Va-tahn, a massive, scarred lone warrior feared by his own kind. Viewing you as a fragile pet at first, he takes you to his isolated jungle home, where fear and resentment clash with his unexpected patience and quiet care.
Paring: Yautja x Reader
word count: 8000+
warnings: Violence, Blood
A/N : Hello there! Here is the first chapter for my new Yautija x Human series! hope you enjoy! Be sure to read more of my Yautja x Reader fics by checking out my master list! <3
Masterlist
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Chapter 1 : Captured Prey
Your eyelids flutter open, heavy and reluctant, as if glued shut by some invisible force. The world around you is a blur of metallic sheen and low, pulsating hums that vibrate through your bones. Disorientation hits you like a wave, crashing over your senses. Where are you? This isn't your bed, not the familiar softness of your sheets back home. No, this is hard, cold, unyielding. You try to sit up, but your limbs feel leaden, your head throbbing with a dull ache that pulses in time with the strange rhythm surrounding you.
Panic begins to seep in as your vision clears. You're in a confined space, walls of smooth, dark metal curving around you like the insides of a cocoon—or a prison. Lights flicker overhead, not the warm glow of sunlight or the steady buzz of fluorescents, but an eerie, reddish hue that casts long shadows. The air is thick, metallic-tasting, laced with an unfamiliar scent—something acrid, like ozone mixed with the faint tang of blood. Your heart races, pounding against your ribs as fragments of memory trickle back: a late-night walk, a sudden shadow, a prick of something sharp in your neck. Then... nothing. Blackness.
Abducted. The word forms in your mind, sharp and terrifying. You've been taken. But by whom? For what? You press your hands against the walls, feeling the subtle vibration, the hum that suggests movement—fast, interstellar movement. This isn't a room; it's a ship. A spaceship. The realization sends a chill down your spine. Aliens? It sounds absurd, like something from a bad sci-fi movie, but the evidence is undeniable. You're not on Earth anymore.
You scramble to your feet, or try to—the space is too small, forcing you to hunch over. There's a small viewport nearby, a narrow slit of reinforced glass. Peering through it, your breath catches. Stars streak by in elongated blurs, a hyperspace tunnel of light and void. And then, abruptly, the ship shudders, the hum deepening to a roar as it drops out of whatever faster-than-light travel it was using. A planet looms into view: vast, ominous, bathed in the harsh light of two suns. A brutal world of endless scorching deserts, where sand dunes shift like living entities under blistering winds, dotted with rivers of lava that snake across the surface like glowing veins of fire, their heat warping the air into shimmering mirages. Interspersed are dense, humid jungles, pockets of green hell teeming with predatory flora that ensnares the unwary and fauna that hunts with silent precision, rustling leaves hiding venomous barbs and razor-sharp claws.
The ship descends, atmosphere burning against its hull in a fiery entry. You brace yourself as gravity shifts, the vessel banking toward a sprawling settlement etched into the edge of a desert-jungle border. The market square below is a chaotic sprawl: towering structures of bone and metal, stalls draped in hides from unimaginable beasts, and crowds of massive figures moving with predatory grace. Yautja. They're hunters, warriors, a species revered and feared across galaxies for their prowess and code of honor. But to you, they're monsters—tall, muscular, with dreadlock-like tendrils cascading from their heads, mandibles that click and flare, and eyes that glow with primal intelligence.
The ship lands with a jolt, and soon, rough hands—clawed and scaled—yank you from your confinement. You're dragged into the blinding light of the dual suns, their rays searing your skin like twin furnaces. Blinking against the glare, you're shoved into a cramped cage, one of many lined up in the bustling market square. The bars are thick, energy-infused, humming with a low warning buzz if you get too close. Around you, other humans—terrified, disheveled—huddle in similar prisons. Men, women, a few children, all wide-eyed and pleading. Exotic slaves, that's what you are. Pets, trophies, or worse, to these alien overlords.
The market is alive with activity. Towering Yautja stride between the stalls, their clicks and growls filling the air like a symphony of threats. Some wear ornate armor, plasma casters slung over shoulders, while others are adorned with trophies—skulls of various species polished to a gleam. You catch snippets of conversation through translation devices clipped to their masks or embedded in their throats, rendering their guttural language into broken but understandable English. "This ooman weak—kill now," one snarls, gesturing at a frail man in the cage beside yours. The human's screams are cut short by a swift blade, red blood splattering in the sand.
Terror grips you, cold and unyielding. You press yourself against the back of your cage, making yourself as small as possible, heart hammering so loud you fear they'll hear it. The elements assault you relentlessly. By day, the dual suns bake the market square, heat radiating off the sand like an oven, sweat pouring down your body until dehydration sets in. At night, chilling winds howl through the stalls, carrying the distant roars of jungle beasts, your teeth chattering as you curl into a ball for warmth. Food is scant—a slurry of nutrient paste shoved through the bars once a day, if that. Water comes in drips from a rusted spout, brackish and warm. You ration it, but your lips crack, your throat burns.
A week drags by in this hell. One by one, the other humans are inspected, bartered, or deemed unfit. The unfit ones... you try not to watch, but the sounds haunt you: pleas turning to gurgles, bodies dragged away to be disposed of in ritualistic fires that light up the night sky with acrid smoke. You're the last one. The strongest, or perhaps the luckiest, surviving on sheer will and the faint hope that this is a nightmare you'll wake from. But it's real. Too real. Your body trembles constantly now, from fear, exhaustion, the unrelenting exposure. You huddle in the shadows of your cage, avoiding the eyes of the Yautja hunters who prowl by, their inspections clinical and merciless.
Then, one sweltering afternoon, the market falls unnaturally silent. The usual cacophony of clicks, growls, and barters fades to whispers. You peek through the bars, curiosity overriding caution for a moment. A massive figure approaches, larger than the others, his form a tapestry of scars—deep gashes across his chest and arms, puckered burns on his dreadlocks, a bio-mask etched with symbols that scream of battles won and lost. Va-tahn. The name whispers through the crowd like a curse. "The Cursed One comes—stay away," a nearby Yautja murmurs, averting his eyes. Others back away, fear etched in their postures despite their warrior stature. He's a lone warrior, avoided, feared—rumors of his exile, his unmatched ferocity in hunts that border on madness.
He stops before your cage, his presence radiating intimidation like heat from the lava rivers. Through the slits of his bio-mask, his eyes—glowing yellow—fix on you. His mandibles twitch faintly, a subtle sign of interest or calculation. You shrink back further, body shaking uncontrollably, convinced this is the end. He'll kill you, or worse. But he doesn't speak at first, just examines you silently, his head tilting as if assessing a prey animal. Then, without hesitation, he turns to the slaver—a wiry Yautja with a scarred mandible—and gestures. A brief exchange, credits or trophies changing hands, and just like that, you're his.
He cloaks, his form shimmering into near-invisibility, a technology that bends light around him. Strong arms lift your cage effortlessly, as if it weighs nothing, and he carries you away from the market. The crowd parts like water before a predator, whispers following: "The Cursed One takes an ooman... pity the fragile thing." You're loaded onto his remote ship—a sleek, predatory vessel shaped like a hunting blade, its engines purring with restrained power. The journey is short, the ship slicing through the atmosphere to a lush jungle moon orbiting Yautja Prime. This satellite world is a contrast to the main planet's deserts: dense foliage towers hundreds of feet, vines thick as your thigh draping from bioluminescent trees that glow with inner light, humming with the life of insectoid swarms. Predatory calls echo—screeches, roars, the rustle of unseen threats.
His isolated dwelling materializes as the ship lands: a fortified structure, half-buried in the jungle, built from reinforced metal alloys fused with natural bone and hide. Towers rise like spines, energy shields flickering faintly to ward off intruders. Inside, it's dimly lit, chambers vast and echoing, furnished with perches for weapons, trophy walls displaying skulls of galactic beasts, and a central nest area piled with furs from hunts. He places your cage in a side chamber, the door sealing with a hiss. Your heart pounds, terror peaking as you stare at him, this monstrous predator uncloaking before you. His skin is mottled green and brown, perfect for jungle camouflage, muscles rippling under scales. Mandibles flare slightly as he removes his bio-mask, revealing a face that's both alien and expressive—eyes sharp, intelligent.
You're convinced he'll assault you. Rip the cage open, take what he wants from your fragile body. Tears stream down your face as you back into the corner, whimpering softly. But he doesn't. Instead, he approaches slowly, placing bowls through the bars: one with strange, nutrient-dense food—chunks of meat in a gelatinous broth, smelling oddly savory—and another with clear, fresh water. "Eat, small one," he growls, his voice a deep rumble, fluent English emerging from a translator embedded in his throat. The sentences are sometimes off, a slight awkwardness in phrasing, but clear, understandable. "No harm will come to you."
You hesitate, suspicion warring with hunger. The food looks alien, could be poisoned. You curl away, pressing against the cold bars, your body skittish, flinching at his every movement. He notices—oh, he notices everything. Your wide-eyed fear, the way your hands tremble, the shallow breaths. But he doesn't force it. He steps back, watching with quiet patience, viewing you as a curious pet at first, something exotic to observe in his solitary existence. "You need strength," he adds, his mandibles clicking softly. "I will watch. You will eat."
Days blend into weeks. He leaves you alone for hours at a time, vanishing into the jungle for hunts, returning with fresh kills to prepare meals. The chamber is secure, no escape—the energy bars hum lethally if you test them. The vast jungle outside taunts you through narrow viewports: towering trees with leaves that shimmer like jewels, flowers that bloom with hypnotic colors, but also dangers—shadowy shapes prowling, vines that snap like whips. Isolation presses in, a constant reminder that you're far from any clans, any rescue. Earth feels like a distant dream.
He tries to build trust subtly. Small comforts appear near your cage: soft hides, woven from the fur of gentle herbivores, to cushion the hard floor. A small orb that emits soft light, banishing the chamber's shadows. He speaks occasionally, his English improving with each interaction, though still with that off-kilter rhythm. "You are from Earth. It is a soft world. Here, you must be strong or you will die." He observes you quietly, perched on a high ledge, his presence a constant weight. Your resentment boils— he's your captor, this monster who bought you like property. But his patience is unnerving, no temper flares, no violence. Just quiet watchfulness.
Weeks stretch into months. Your fear doesn't fade entirely; it's a living thing, coiling in your gut. Every time he approaches to refill your bowls, you flinch, heart racing, expecting the worst. "Why me?" you whisper one day, voice cracking. He pauses, mandibles twitching. "You... survived. You have a strong spirit. I see this." His words are meant to comfort, perhaps, but they only heighten your terror. What does he want? To break you? To keep you as a pet forever?
The jungle moon's cycles mark time: dual moons rising in tandem, casting silvery light through the viewports, accompanied by choruses of alien calls. Storms rage, rain pounding the structure like artillery, thunder shaking the walls. In those moments, you huddle under the hides he provided, grateful despite yourself. He notices that too, a soft chuff escaping him—amusement? Approval? "Good. These will keep you warm." His attempts at trust-building continue: a small tool to comb your hair, fashioned from bone, left wordlessly. He learns your patterns—when you eat, when you sleep fitfully, nightmares plaguing you.
Your body adapts slowly, the nutrient food restoring some strength, but emotionally, you're a wreck. Skittish jumps at shadows, wide-eyed stares when he enters. He doesn't touch you beyond sliding bowls through the bars, respecting an invisible boundary. "Do not fear me," he says one evening, his voice low. "You are mine. I protect what's mine.. You are my pet now. Learn trust."
Pet. The word stings, fueling resentment. You're no animal, but in this vast, isolated world, what choice do you have? The jungle outside is a death trap—predators larger than bears, plants that ensnare and digest. Escape means death. So you endure, terror a constant companion, as months pass in this uneasy stasis. Va-tahn watches, patient as a hunter stalking prey, his yellow eyes gleaming in the dim light. And deep down, a seed of confusion sprouts: why hasn't he hurt you? What game is this?
The chamber grows familiar, its scents—musk of furs, faint ozone from energy fields—becoming almost normal. But normalcy is a lie. You're a prisoner, bought and owned by the Cursed One, feared by his own kind. Whispers from the market echo in your mind: pity the fragile thing. Pity indeed. Your tears dry eventually, replaced by a numb vigilance. He brings water from a pure spring, cooler now, noticing your preference. "Drink. Good for you, small one." His English is fluent, sentences sometimes clipped—"I bring more tomorrow"—but clear.
One night, as rain lashes the viewports, you catch him staring, mandibles relaxed. "Your name?" he asks suddenly. You hesitate, voice a whisper. He repeats yours back, rolling it on his tongue like a new flavor. "I am Va-tahn.." The exchange is brief, but it's a crack in the wall of fear. Still, you curl away, heart pounding. Trust? Impossible. He's the monster who took you from everything.
Time wears on. The jungle blooms with seasonal flowers, their scents wafting in on breezes. He leaves a petal once, vibrant purple, near your cage. A gift? Or a test? You don't touch it, suspicion winning. He notices, always notices, but says nothing. Patience unending. Your resentment simmers, mixed with exhaustion. How long can this go on? Months bleed into more, the isolation a cage as real as the bars. And all the while, Va-tahn observes, his presence a shadow over your terrified existence.
(An unexpected update of our baby boy Kel’Rakur and his princess 😘)
His hand stayed heavy on your hip, warm but unmoving, while the sticky mess of both your releases trickled slowly down your thighs. You stared into his gold eyes, unable to look away, your own gaze too long, too intentional.
But who could blame you?
Your personal guard, your annoyingly handsome, stubborn and deadly guard, had just asked, in his own subtle way, if you would be okay with him needing you.
Claiming you. Not just for the night.
Your hands had curled into loose fists on his chest. The mechanical purr in his ribcage had faded to almost nothing, leaving the silence between you thick and serious. Too serious for the haze still burning under your skin.
The aphrodisiac hadn’t let go yet, hot, insistent, whispering that all you had to do was grab him, drag him closer, drown your soft moans in his mouth and pretend his question never happened.
So you did.
Your fingers found the lower curve of his tusks, tugging him closer. You kissed him hard, tongue sliding past his mandibles to taste the faint neon sweetness still clinging to him from the drinks you had shared all night.
He let you kiss him, groaning low into it, but then his hands caught your wrists, easing you back just enough to break the kiss.
You surged forward again, chasing his mouth, but he held you steady, refusing to let you hide.
“As much as I’m enjoying this,” he rasped, “I need you to answer me first.”
You tried to muffle him with another kiss, desperate to keep things light, easy, fun.
But he didn’t let you.
“I want you, Princess,” he said, holding your wrists tighter, forcing your eyes to his. “But not just for tonight.”
His forehead creased, worry flickering in his eyes as they searched yours. He looked… anxious.
“Why can’t we just… have fun for tonight?” you asked, voice smaller than you meant it to be.
“We can.” He cut in quick, “but when we get back to Yautja Prime and you start treating me like a stranger again…” He swallowed, mandibles tightening. “I’ll leave the clan the next second.”
“I won’t treat you like a stranger—”
“Won’t you?” He tilted his head, eyes dark and half-lidded, like he already knew the answer.
And the worst part? You weren’t sure if he was wrong.
You hadn’t thought that far.
This whole trip, the sneaking out, the drinks, the teasing, the way you had finally cracked his silence, it had all been about freedom.
No strings. No expectations. No one tying you down, not even the most beautiful Yautja you had ever met.
You had told yourself that from the beginning.
But now he was looking at you like you had already made your choice and it definitely wasn’t him.
You frowned down at him, your knees had started aching against the velvet couch, his hands still loosely cuffed around your wrists.
The sticky heat of both your releases clung to your thighs uncomfortably now, cooling slowly, but the real problem was deeper, somewhere in your chest where logic and want kept colliding.
You were the king’s daughter. Adopted yes, human, soft-skinned and breakable in a world of natural killers, but still carrying the weight of a crown you hadn’t asked for. Your father had plans, a strategic marriage to some prince, more territory, more power. You had always been fine with it, content even, as long as the deal included freedom afterwards. A quiet life on your own lands, ruling however you pleased, taking whoever you wanted once the alliance was sealed.
That was the plan.
Simple. Easy.
Until Kel’Rakur showed up.
His face darkened the longer you stared, gold eyes dimming as your silence stretched. His grip eased, his fingers loosening, ready to retreat, to vanish back into the role of the silent guard.
Well that’s a first.
Usually they ran because they were scared of breaking you. This one was running because he wanted more than your body.
You groaned, frustration knotting tight in your throat.
Your mind raced, years of negotiation training kicking in, searching for the perfect answer, the perfect compromise.
But this wasn’t politics.
“Damn it…” The word slipped out.
Before he could retreat further, you grabbed his wrists, shoving them up until they hit the cushion behind his head. You leaned forward, pinning him beneath you, chest to chest.
“Damn you,” you hissed, your voice low and angry.
The invisibility cloak still shimmered around you both, you had to keep quiet, but the words burned anyway. “Why can’t you just shut up and have fun for one night?”
He didn’t flinch but he didn’t pull away either.
“You knew who you were messing with,” he said quietly, voice steady despite the way his mandibles twitched. “I’m not the king’s favorite for no reason.”
“I can see why,” you snapped. “You stubborn—”
“So what?” He tilted his head, eyes catching the purple strobe light of the room, glowing brighter. “I’m not good enough for you?”
His mandibles curved, almost like a grin, looking up at you like he was daring you to say it out loud.
You stared down at him, your heart hammering, his wrists still pinned under your grip.
And for once, you didn’t have the perfect answer.
Because the truth was that he was more than good enough.
And that scared you more than any arranged marriage ever could.
“I know the way you’re looking at me right now,” he murmured, releasing one wrist to slide his fingers into your hair, tugging you down until your faces were inches apart. His breath scorched your lips. “You want me just as badly.”
You bit your bottom lip hard to trap the whimper clawing up your throat. The aphrodisiac still lingered in both of you, but he seemed to have better reins on it, enough to toy with you while you were coming apart at the seams.
“I do,” you admitted through clenched teeth, the words tasting like betrayal to yourself.
His free hand drifted lower, his knuckles grazing your throat, then sliding down to cup the swell of your breast, thumb brushing slow over your nipple.
“If we walk out of here and the aphrodisiac’s gone from your system,” he said, voice dropping to a guttural whisper, “will you still want me?”
You moaned low, head dropping forward until your forehead rested against his. “I’m pretty sure I wanted you long before any of this.”
The confession felt like an open wound. Vulnerable and exposed. You hadn’t planned to say it out loud. But there it was.
His mechanical purr stuttered, then kicked back harder, deeper, vibrating through your whole body. His eyes snapped open. brighter, playful, almost relieved.
“Was it when you blasted that human music through the ship just to get under my skin?” he asked, freeing his other wrist and you let him.
His hand found the back of your head again, guiding you closer until his tongue traced the corner of your lips.
You huffed a shaky laugh against his mouth.
“No… that was just to mess with you,” you lied.
Because that was exactly when it started.
Everyone else bent over backwards for you, served you, feared you, obeyed you without question. But him? He resisted. Looked through you. Made you feel like a person instead of a title. And the second you realized you actually cared whether he noticed you… that was it.
It was over for you.
The fact that he turned out to have the softest center underneath? That was just a pleasant bonus.
“I could bend you over this couch right now,” he growled, tongue dragging slow up the column of your throat until his mandibles clicked beside your ear. “Fuck the tightest pussy I’ll ever feel in my life. It would be so easy Princess, trust me. I’ve been with too many of my kin.”
The words and the confidence should have stung. Instead they lit something vicious and possessive in your chest.
“So everyone’s had your cock, huh?” you scoffed, sounding almost mocking. You had never felt this kind of power before.
Authority? Yes. People obeyed you. But this? Making him groan with nothing but words? Humiliating him in the kindest way?
That was intoxicating.
His tongue stopped as he pulled back just enough to look at you, mandibles parting in that smug grin.
“Have you seen me?” he asked, voice dark and teasing, eyes gleaming under the violet lights.
The arrogance should have annoyed you even more.
Instead it made your thighs clench around his hips.
You leaned in, lips brushing the edge of his tusk, voice dropping to a whisper.
“Fuck you,” you whispered, lips curving into a wicked smile as your hands pressed against his chest, easing him back until his head rested against the couch’s high back.
He didn’t resist, just watched you rise over him, eyes never leaving yours.
“You can always say no to my used cock,” he snarled, hands sliding back to your thighs. His claws dug in just enough to make you hiss.
“I’ll have you exiled from the kingdom,” you shot back, voice serious but still trembling, the aphrodisiac still burning hot under your skin. But the words weren’t just the drug talking anymore. They were yours.
“And who’s going to reproduce all these Yautja?” he countered, mandibles twitching arrogantly. “You know my genes are superior—”
“So if you claim me as your mate, you’ll still fuck other Yautja?” You raised an eyebrow, nails raking down his chest hard enough to make him twitch, his hips jerking up once helplessly.
“That’s how it usually goes,” he said, voice dropping lower as your nails pressed deeper. “But I wouldn’t dare look at anyone else with you by my side.”
“Is that so?”
“You don’t know the lengths I’d go for you.”
“Hmm. So no more warrior babies for the kingdom?” You scoffed, leaning closer. “No one else gets to use that already-used cock of yours?”
His eyes flashed. “You like degrading me, Princess?”
The words came out rough, biting back.
“That’s the same cock you’re begging for right now,” he added, hand sliding to your nape, pulling you down until his mouth hovered a breath from yours.
“You’re no better than me.”
His voice was low, vibrating with that mechanical purr making your face burn because, fuck, he was right.
“I’m not,” you admitted quickly. You saw his mandibles tighten, like he was fighting every instinct screaming to take you right there.
“So I can’t use that already-used dick unless you claim me as your mate?”
He exhaled slow, the back of one claw brushing your cheek, turning the moment tender.
“Would you ever consider the possibility of having me as your mate?”
The question hung between you, soft and with no trace of teasing now. His eyes searched yours, waiting.
You nodded once, small, your eyes staying on his chest.
He nodded back slowly, eyes softening as they dropped to your mouth, watching the way your breaths came out of your lips.
Your hand tapped the device on his shoulder without a warning. The cloak shimmered and vanished.
“What—”
His arms snapped around you instantly, one shielding your head, the other locked across your lower back protectively.
“We’re leaving,” you said, climbing off him with a knowing smirk, grabbing his hand.
He snatched his helmet in one fluid motion, slamming it on. The red voids of the mask flared bright once, as he let you pull him up.
His steps were heavy behind you, letting you lead even though he could have thrown you over his shoulder and carry you out in seconds.
The moment you reached the bottom of the stairs, the roaring crowd swallowed you again. Lights flashed wildly, bodies surged and right in the center of it all stood Serion—Prince of the Sylthari— owning the makeshift stage like he had been born for it.
His voice cut through the heavy metal riff, angelic and brutal altogether, velvet wrapped around razor blades.
You stopped dead in your tracks, mouth falling open into a stunned smile. “What the fuck?”
You rose onto your tiptoes, stretching to see better, but before you could, a thick arm hooked under your knees and lifted you clean off the floor. Kel’Rakur slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, one arm braced across the backs of your thighs.
That was certainly a better view of the stage.
Your fingers instinctively threaded through his locks, partly to steady yourself, partly to squeeze them in a silent thanks. He groaned low in response, that mechanical engine purr rumbling up through his chest and into your body.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, sounding almost annoyed underneath the nonchalance. “Enjoy the show.”
He didn’t move right away. Just stood there in the middle of the chaos, letting you watch.
Serion owned the stage, his voice soaring over grinding guitars, hips rolling with the beat, his sweat gleaming silver under the lights. A handful of Sylthari crawled at his feet, reaching desperately, while others tried to climb him for a kiss.
His guards plucked them off quickly, until Serion caught one mid-lift, pressed a kiss to his own palm and laid it over the fan’s mouth like a blessing.
The stage hadn’t even been there earlier. He had brought you here to see this, you realized. But you wouldn’t trade a single second of the night you had just spent with Kel’Rakur for it.
Still… Serion’s performance was a goddamn spectacle.
When his eyes finally found you, towering above the crowd on your guard’s shoulder, he flashed the naughtiest, most suggestive smile you had ever seen. All teeth, all charm, all invitation.
You grinned back wide, your cheeks burning, but then your gaze dropped on Kel’Rakur’s helmet.
“Are you not jealous?” you asked, tugging one rubbery lock to get his attention.
He snorted, the sound vibrating through you. “I’m the one fucking you tonight,” he growled over the music, loud enough for everyone around you to hear. “He’s the one that should be jealous.”
And you burst out laughing, loud, uncontrollable, nearly sliding off his shoulder. His whole frame shook with silent laughter too, shoulders rolling under you and for that one perfect second the most feared guard in the kingdom broke character and laughed with you.
Serion ended the song with a guttural roar that shook the room, throwing his arms wide and inviting the crowd onstage. Bodies fell forward, hands reaching and he pulled a few up to dance with him, grinning like he owned every soul in the building.
You glanced down at Kel’Rakur again. His head was turned toward the stage, watching.
“Should we join—”
“No fucking way.”
His hand squeezed your thigh, until you gasped and he turned on his heel, cutting through the crowd.
“Hey!” You tapped the top of his mask, whining. “I wanted to sing!”
“You’ll sing to me,” he threw back without missing a beat, his voice low and unbothered.
“But what if I wanted you to sing too?” You leaned in closer. “You’re my guard. You’re supposed to follow orders.”
“Then order me around, Princess,” he rumbled, “make me crawl for you. I don’t give a fuck. I’m still not going up on that stage.”
“Afraid your throat-singing won’t impress the crowd?” you giggled.
The moment the words left your mouth, his palm cracked against your thigh, sharp and embarrassingly loud.
You gasped, but your lips quickly turned into a smile. “You’d think I would be mad at you for slapping my thighs all the time, but you should know—”
“I know you like it,” he interrupted.
“Your blood’s rushing straight to your pussy. I can smell it.”
Your jaw dropped, heat flooding your face. “Why do you keep reading my body like that?” you whined, fingers tugging playfully at his locks.
“Why does your pussy keep throbbing every time I do?” he snarled back.
His hands shifted, easing you down from his shoulder. You locked your legs around his waist on instinct, clinging as he kept walking. But right before you reach the exit doors, he made a sudden left turn.
You hummed in confusion.
Then his hand clamped the back of your head and he slammed his body into a door, shoving it open wide before kicking it shut behind you.
The world went quiet.
You blinked, taking it all in.
Emerald-green floor, walls painted matte black with living veins of purple and gold that shimmered like they were breathing. Exotic plants spilled from corners, leaves glossy and heavy. In the centre, a small, glowing pool of water, steam curling lazy off the surface.
“Woah—” you breathed, eyes wide as he set you down.
The room felt like a secret haven, private, luxurious, secluded from the pounding chaos outside.
“I saw this place when that Sylthari dragged me in here earlier,” he said in a casual tone.
“What?” You turned to face him, brows raised.
“They passed out the next second. So they brought me—”
“What did they want from you?” you demanded, your voice sharpening with accusation.
Before you could finish, his palm clapped over your mouth, muffling your words. Your eyes widened.
“As I was saying,” he continued, unfazed, guiding you closer to the pool’s edge with his chest pressed to your back. “I saw this place and thought you’d like it.”
He finally lifted his hand from your mouth, but his mask stayed close to your cheek, mandibles clicking softly underneath as he waited for your reaction.
His face traveled from your cheek down to your nape, head lowering until his mask hovered just above your skin. Goosebumps erupted wherever he touched.
You tried to hold your breath, fighting the urge to moan at how close he was. Instead, you turned your head slowly toward him. He was already waiting, watching you with that silent intensity that always made your stomach flip.
You glared, lips pressed into a tight line, then folded your arms over your chest and turned away, staring at the glowing little pool in the center of the room instead.
You refused to look at him. Not while images of that Sylthari crawling all over him kept flashing through your mind.
“Stop being jealous,” he murmured, his voice sweet but taunting at the same time, as he leaned in closer.
His masked face nuzzled against your nape, “I didn’t even touch them.”
“Yeah, sure,” you mumbled, but your hand still drifted behind you, fingers slowly caressing the thick, rubbery strands of his locks.
“Do you like it?”
“I do,” you answered, your voice softening despite yourself, lips curving into a small, defeated smile.
“Wanna get in the pool?” he asked right after, the low vibration of his chest pressing against your back, that mechanical engine giving two soft, encouraging roars.
“What if someone walks in—”
“We’ll use the cloak,” he said immediately, hands sliding down your arms, coaxing you closer like he already knew you would say yes.
And why deny him? The second you had seen that glowing water, you wanted to dive in. Not just for the luxury of the pool itself, but for the privacy.
Back home, every glance of yours, every breath, was watched by others.
But here, you were just a guest. No expectations, no crown. No one to answer to.
Only Kel’Rakur’s eyes were on you.
And those were the only ones that mattered right now.
“Fuck it,” you whispered.
He let you go instantly. You peeled off the remains of your torn dress in one motion, your soft breasts spilling free.
Only then did you remember your underwear was still lost somewhere upstairs, left behind during all those long, grinding hours against him.
You clicked your tongue, glancing around once before your gaze settled back on Kel’Rakur.
He wasn’t moving.
Not even breathing, it seemed.
His towering frame stood frozen, hands clenched into fists at his sides, mask tilted down at you like the sight of your bare body had stopped time itself.
You tilted your head, waving a hand in front of his face. “Hey…”
Still nothing.
The most feared guard in the kingdom, the one whose presence made warriors flinch, was completely immobilised, like you had stolen every ounce of air from his lungs.
And that’s when it hit you.
You looked down at yourself, soft curves, full breasts, rounded hips, hair spilling over your shoulders gracefully. You knew how you looked. And you looked good.
“Come on,” you coaxed, stepping closer, voice softer now. “I can’t be the only one naked. Take this off.”
Your hands went to his armor. You expected resistance, him to catch your wrists, growl a warning, tell you to quit playing.
But he didn’t.
Your fingers slid over cool chest plates, pushing them aside one by one. They hit the floor with heavy, metallic thuds. You kept going, pausing only when you finally heard his breath hitch behind the mask.
The same mask that was still staring down at you, red voids tracking every slow drag of your hands over his rough, scarred skin.
“You’re really letting me undress you?” you asked, your voice painted with amusement as your finger dragged slowly down the hard plates of his abdomen armor.
“I would do anything at this point,” he rasped, the words rough behind the helmet. His body twitched under every touch, small, involuntary shivers running across his muscles. You wondered if it was the lingering aphrodisiac still burning in his blood… or if your fingers alone were enough to make him react like that.
“Anything?” You narrowed your eyes, lips turning into a mischievous smirk.
“Anything. Just ask for it.”
His confidence surged back instantly.
He took a step closer, his hand finding your waist, claws grazing your bare skin. You stepped back, testing him, giving him space to chase.
Another step. Then another. Slow, methodical, like a predator in its natural element. You kept retreating until your back met the cool wall. He stopped just short of pinning you completely, one hand bracing against the wall beside your head, his thick bicep casting a shadow over your face as he towered over you.
He waited patiently for your next order.
You leaned in, grabbing his arm and sinking your teeth into the thick muscle of his bicep. Your eyes never left the mask as your canines pressed into his rough skin, not hard enough to break it, but enough to leave a mark.
A muffled sound escaped him, like he had tried to hold everything in and failed. His head turned slightly toward you, locks shifting as you kept your teeth on him. His free hand curled into a fist against the wall, knuckles popping as you bit down a little harder.
Another low, muffled groan escaped him.
His hand left the wall and landed on your face, thumb and forefinger gripping your cheeks, forcing your head up to meet his mask.
You expected a reaction, but this one felt rougher, more raw than you had anticipated. Still, you smiled up at him, cheeks flushed, because that gentle roughness was exactly what you hadn’t known you needed so badly.
His chest heaved, breaths short and shallow, every exhale a low warning growl.
“I thought Yautja liked it rough,” you tried to say, your voice muffled by his grip.
He squeezed your cheeks a little tighter.
“You’re no Yautja,” he clicked roughly under the helmet.
“So?”
“So don’t act like one,” he warned, his tone suddenly serious, “unless you want to be treated like one.”
You had grown up among Yautja your whole life, but no one had ever made you feel quite this intimidated.
You slowly frowned at him, watching as his fingers on your face slowly softened, his grip easing into something almost tender.
“Are you holding back because I’m the princess… or because I’m human?”
“You think I care about your status right now?” He let go of your face, but his fingers still lingered, thumb and pointer sliding under your chin to tilt it up, forcing your eyes back to his. “I won’t treat you like my kind. We’re too rough.”
He leaned down until the cold front of his mask hovered just inches from your lips, his grip on your chin still firm. “I can handle it,” you said, but your voice came out soft and breathless, not convincing either of you.
“You don’t have to.” His tone gentled, thumb brushing slow circles over your cheek as his hand cradled your face. “If I wanted rough sex, I’d go find a Yautja.”
“So I can’t bite you?” you asked, more curious than annoyed.
“You can do whatever you want to me,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. “Just… don’t try to match my rough nature. I want you. Your soft fingers—” He caught your hand, guiding it to his chest. “Your dull canines.” He pressed your fingertips gently against your own teeth. “This.” He dragged your fingers slowly across your lower lip, tracing the plush curve that was so uniquely human, made for soft kisses and even softer sounds.
He liked you for what you truly were.
Nothing like him.
You had spent your whole life among Yautja feeling like you had to prove yourself. No matter the fact that you were royalty, the whispers had always followed you.
How could a soft human rule over them? Your father loved you in his own rough way, protecting you fiercely, surrounding you with the best guards, but he rarely listened. You were a weapon of negotiation, a bridge between worlds, but never quite one of them.
You had always assumed Kel’Rakur was the same.
You were wrong.
Your softness had never been praised by a Yautja before.
Yet here he was, admiring every difference. The way your body curved with gentle lines, your hair fine and flowing, your eyes a quieter shade, your mouth meant for kissing far more than tearing flesh.
“But you’re holding back,” you said, voice quieter now. “How is that going to be enjoyable for you—”
“Let me worry about my enjoyment,” he scoffed gently, taking your wrist and guiding your hand lower, until your palm rested over the hard plates of his lower armor. “I’ve never wanted to be touched so badly by anyone.”
The confession hit you like an actual weight, you even felt it in your stomach.
His mask’s voids flashed once before he lifted it with his free hand and let it drop to the floor with a heavy clunk.
You saw his face then, always rough with scars and ridges, but his eyes were gentle, almost vulnerable, flicking between yours and your mouth like he was trying to read every thought, every feeling flickering across your features.
Your hand tugged at his lower armor, your lower lip caught between your teeth without you realising it. You looked at his eyes.
And if eyes could beg, they would look like his.
His hands rose to the wall on either side of your head, caging you in as he leaned closer. That low, artificial rumble started in his chest again, the one that always made you chuckle under your breath because it sounded like he was barely holding back from revving up and taking off.
You tugged harder at the lower plates of his armor until they finally loosened and dropped to the floor with a loud thud.
Almost immediately, a softer purr replaced it, the deep, satisfied sound Yautja made when they were truly at ease. You had heard it before from others, but never from him.
Not like this.
Your palm slid lower, resting over the slit at his crotch where his cock was still hidden, warm and waiting. You tilted your head softly, eyes searching for his as you used that same hand to guide him closer.
He obeyed without hesitation, like always.
“So you like it soft?” you smirked, your free hand landing on his chest, fingertips grazing the hard skin of his pecs.
“You’re a strange Yautja.”
“I never claimed otherwise,” he answered, amusement thick in his voice.
“You are here to serve me,” you reminded him, your voice dropping, “not to mess around with me.”
“Exactly.” His mandibles slowly stretched, eyes darkening with that familiar smug glint.
“So tell me what you need from me, Princess.”
“Get on your knees for me,” you whispered, holding his gaze.
For a second he just blinked, flustered, like the words hadn’t quite landed yet.
Then his hand lifted, a single talon traced up your throat lightly, until it hooked gently under your chin, tilting your face up. The heat of his touch left a faint reddish trail behind.
His head tilted as he studied you. Then slowly, proudly even, he dropped to one knee, forearm resting casually over the bent knee as he looked up at you.
You were almost eye level now.
But even on his knees he looked proud, powerful. Like the knight your father had promised would keep you safe. And for the first time you understood why your father favored him so much. He was lethal, obedient and made you feel stronger than you ever had, because a being this dangerous was willingly on his knees at your feet without a second thought.
He extended one hand, claws settling on the soft curve of your ass, kneading the flesh. A quiet moan slipped from your lips and you didn’t even try to hide it.
His grip tightened, slowly pulling you toward him.
You heard that soft, pleased purr rumbling from deep in his chest as his head nuzzled against your stomach, warm breath fanning over your skin.
Your fingers pushed between the thick rubbery locks, stroking through them as he let out a quiet sigh, mandibles extending while he shook his head lightly to clear the strands from his face.
He lifted his gaze then, golden eyes meeting yours from below.
“What do you want me to do?” His voice came out deep, thick with that rough Yautja dialect you had never quite mastered as a human. His words sounded almost broken, more noise than words.
Your hand slid to the back of his head, fingers threading deeper into his dreadlocks until you fisted three thick strands and tugged, forcing his head up so he had no choice but to look straight into your eyes.
“I’ll give you a chance to surprise me—”
You barely finished the sentence.
His hand shot to your left thigh, hoisting it over his broad shoulder in one smooth motion, the other arm wrapping around your lower back, steadying you.
His head dropped between your legs so fast you yelped, a startled sound that melted into a gasp as his hot, wet tongue dragged slowly over your silky folds.
Your head fell back against the wall, mouth parting on a soft, stunned breath, eyes wide as they stared up at the mirrored ceiling.
Oh.
Mirrored ceiling.
Now you understood why he had brought you here.
That mirrored ceiling was the perfect cherry on top.
You slowly smiled as you watched the reflection, you flushed and naked, with Kel’Rakur’s head buried between your thighs. His tongue lapped slow and thorough over your folds before flicking once against your swollen clit with his forked tongue.
You gasped again, hips twitching.
He pulled back just enough to leave your clit pulsing and needy, resuming those slow, teasing licks everywhere else. Then his head tilted up, golden eyes finding yours in the mirror.
The moment turned even lewder, staring down at him through the reflection while his tongue worked between your legs, his gaze never breaking from yours.
His eyes darkened, mandibles stretching wide until you realized he was grinning with pure, wicked satisfaction.
What a fucking tease, you thought.
But you were no better.
Your hand found his dreads again, fisting them tight as you pulled his mouth closer, pressing him harder against your aching pussy.
He groaned into you, the sound vibrating straight through your core and you couldn’t stop the soft, needy moan that escaped your lips.
The mirror above reflected every detail and you couldn’t look away.
Another gasp tore from your throat when he finally closed the last inch, his tongue finding your clit again. Saliva dragged slick and hot down your folds as he settled into a relentless rhythm that had your legs shaking, air punching out of your lungs in desperate little bursts.
You clenched your jaw, the pleasure so sudden and overwhelming, you tried to push his head away, fingers clawing at his shoulders with a broken cry.
He stopped suddenly, pulling back just enough to look up at you, not at the mirror this time, but straight into your eyes.
You blinked down at him, lips swollen and bruised from how hard you had been biting them, hands still gripping his shoulders.
“Do you know how pretty you look like that?” he murmured, giving your pussy one slow lick.
“Like what?” you managed, voice shaky.
“All gasping and sweaty…” His tongue flicked again, eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen another being react like that.”
“It’s because of you,” you shot back, still breathless. “All that long experience impregnating Yautja has clearly paid off.”
Before you could finish the sentence, a sharp sting bloomed across your thigh.
You looked down fast. His mandibles had pierced your soft skin just enough to leave marks, his eyes already waiting for yours, daring you to react.
“What the—”
“Do you really think I’ve been sticking my dick everywhere?” he asked, voice muffled as he kissed the fresh bite, tongue soothing over the sting that was already blooming into a bruise.
“Enough with shaming me, Princess,” he purred, hands sliding under your thighs to grip your ass, lifting you up, your pussy hovering inches from his mouth as he stood.
You clutched his shoulders for balance, giggling despite your frown, as that unexpected bite had annoyed you almost as much as it had turned you on.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, walking you toward the glowing pool, tongue flicking lazily over your skin.
“Your heartbeat quickened,” he noted, slowly lowering you until your feet touched the cool floor.
You looked up at him as he looked down, his hand reaching for your thigh, fingers gently tracing the bite mark he had left.
“Did I hurt you?” His forehead came to rest against yours, nuzzling softly as that familiar purr started vibrating through his chest again.
“I bit you before, so it’s only fair,” you scoffed, but his hand froze over your thigh.
“Did the princess of Yautja just claim me as her equal?” His voice turned playful, eyes gleaming as he studied your face.
“When have I ever treated you with inequality?” you shot back, squinting up at him.
“No, my princess,” he purred your title, the sound warm and smooth like honey. “You have always been benevolent with your people.”
His face dropped to your neck, mandibles clicking softly while his hand rose to fist a handful of your hair, holding you in place.
“But you can forget your selfless ways for tonight,” he murmured against your skin, voice dropping lower, sounding hungrier. “Tonight, I want you selfish.”
“Kel…” you murmured his name, eyes fluttering shut for a second, letting yourself simply feel instead of overthinking.
“Sorry,” you whispered, palms finding his chest before you pressed harder against it shoving him back with everything you had.
He stumbled, his balance lost, and fell backwards into the glowing pool with a loud splash.
Your hands flew to your mouth in disbelief.
How could the princess of the Yautja, royalty no less, do something so reckless? So childish?
So… fun?
A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, hands helplessly trying to muffle the giggles spilling from your lips.
Under the water, you saw him swimming towards the edge, smooth and predatory. Without surfacing fully, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your ankle and yanking you.
You yelped as you stumbled forward, falling into the cold water. Your eyes opened beneath the surface just in time to see him, then he pulled you up, strong hands gripping your waist, holding you steady against him.
You coughed, sputtering, hands landing on his chest for balance. But your lips were already breaking into a smile when you caught the worried look on his face.
“I’m fine,” you managed between coughs, still grinning. “But you’re gonna pay for that.”
He pushed the wet strands of hair off your face with his talons, “If it’s okay with you, Princess,” he said, “I’ll pay in kind.”
His mandibles opened, hugging your face softly as his tongue lapped slowly over your lips.
You welcomed him instantly, moaning into the kiss as his hand cradled the back of your head, his other arm wrapped around you. Your legs locked around his torso so you wouldn’t slip back into the water.
“You’re too playful for a Yautja,” you murmured between kisses.
You felt him nod, mouth brushing your jaw.
“Did you pretend to be stoic when I first saw you?” you asked.
He shook his head, lips finding the side of your neck, nibbling softly. “I adjust.”
“You look the most beautiful when you’re happy,” he said quietly.
Your breath hitched. Your body went stiff at the genuine compliment and your heart stuttered in your chest.
He must have felt the shift because he leaned back, thumb drawing slow circles on your cheek. “I wanted that look on your face more often,” he murmured, his eyes somehow turning softer. “Does that make me selfish?”
“Maybe,” you smiled back, your hand reaching behind his mandibles to find that sweet spot that always made him purr. You scratched gently and the sound rumbled from him, deep almost involuntary.
“Then maybe you need to punish me,” he rasped, mouth hovering over your ear, “show me that royal mercilessness.”
“How about you give me what I’ve been asking for?” you murmured, still scratching that sweet spot. He melted under your touch, the mechanical purr in his chest growing louder, deeper, vibrating between you.
Something flashed in the room. The water in the pool suddenly turned a rich, glowing purple and began to bubble softly.
You glanced around, confused, until you noticed Kel’Rakur’s hand resting on the edge, pressing a few hidden buttons.
“That Sylthari showed me how to change the temperature of the pool—” he started.
But you didn’t let him finish. You shoved against his chest, trapping his massive arms beneath your smaller hands and pushing him back against the pool wall.
It was almost comical how easily he let you manhandle him, this towering wall of muscles, letting you push and pull him however you wanted, completely lost under your spell. He could snap your bones with one hand, yet here he was, obeying every single one of your whims.
“How much did you do with that Sylthari in here?” you frowned, brows drawn tight as you pressed him harder against the edge.
“Not much,” he answered, voice low. “I wanted to get rid of them so I could get back to you.”
“But you came here willingly.”
“So?”
“What were you planning to do?”
“What were you planning to do with Serion?” he countered, turning your question right back on you.
“None of your business!” you raised your voice, surprised at his boldness.
“Then none of your business what I did with that Sylthari.”
“No,” you snapped. “You’re my guard. You are supposed to report to me. What did you do with them?”
“Why? Did you get jealous again?”
“Did you?” you shot back, brows raising.
Kel’Rakur didn’t answer.
You called his name again. Still nothing.
“I don’t have to tell you that,” he finally said, eyes fixed on his own hand, talons clicking rhythmically against the marble edge of the pool. He looked… awkward. Quiet.
“Kel…” you tried, softer this time.
And he finally looked at you, shaking his head as your smile grew bigger.
“You got jealous?” you whispered, your face inching closer to his. “Of Serion?”
“So what?” he muttered, pushing your face away with his massive hand, nearly forgetting who he was talking to.
Your royal title felt meaningless in moments like this.
And damn if that didn’t feel good.
“You’re the one who kept searching for me in the club anyway,” he said, avoiding your eyes, his mandibles clicking louder. “You’re just as needy as I am.”
“Yes, I am,” you admitted without hesitation, shrugging as you nuzzled your forehead against his.
“Say it then,” he said without missing a beat.
“I need you—” you leaned closer, your lips brushing over his rubbery locks, “to fuck me.”
He scoffed, as if he had expected that kind of reaction from you.
“You’re a brat,” he shook his head, his shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.
“But brats must be disciplined,” he growled, grabbing you under your thighs and lifting you so your legs draped over his arms, spreading you open for him. “Didn’t your father teach you any manners?”
You felt his hips thrust up under the water, the thick head of his cock sliding along your exposed pussy, hot and insistent.
The air left your lungs in a sudden gasp, but your lips couldn’t help but turn into a breathless smile.
“Didn’t he teach you to pay respect to your elders?” he growled the accusation, his hips rolling again in a slow, but long thrust that sent water splashing around you.
His cock rubbed between your folds again, eager and pulsing.
You grabbed onto his shoulders, letting yourself hang from his arms, exposed, vulnerable and embarrassingly wet.
“You’re not much older than me for a Yautja,” you managed, your voice shaky.
“Matter of fact, you’re younger in Yautja years—”
The words choked off from you as his hips drove up again, the pointy tip of his cock pressing against your entrance for the first time, stretching you open just enough to make your eyes fly wide.
The sheer size of him hit you all at once. Far bigger than you had imagined, even after feeling him in your hands. That bratty attitude you had been clinging to, vanished the next second.
“No, keep talking,” he purred, leaning in until his mouth hovered next to your ear, tongue dragging over the shell. “I’d like to see you keep that attitude while I’m fucking you.”
His voice, deep and guttural, wrapped in your own language, did terrible, wonderful things to you. It pinned you in place, made your thighs tremble around his waist, turned every word into a shiver.
“Do you want it?” he asked, hips thrusting up again, the tip nudging your entrance but not pushing inside.
You dropped your head to his chest, eyes squeezed shut, biting back the pathetic, needy whines that wanted to escape.
You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction that easily though, not when he was breaking you with nothing but words and the slow grind of his cock against your aching pussy.
It was the most pathetic you had ever felt.
Yet the way he purred for you, the mechanical rumble vibrating through his chest and into yours, soothed something deep inside you. It calmed your racing heart, made the overwhelming need feel almost… safe.
You sighed, lips finding his chest, pressing soft kisses to the hard muscle of his pecs, something you knew he had never experienced before.
“Want me to stop?” he asked softly, mandibles brushing the side of your head, waiting.
You shook your head, teeth sinking into the softer skin of his neck, biting down before you started sucking, marking him.
A low groan vibrated from his throat. “What are you doing to me?” he rasped, voice breathless. His hips jerked involuntarily, the thick head of his cock pushing just inside you.
“Do it,” you whispered against his skin, still sucking that tender spot on his neck.
“I want to feel you,” you begged, “Please, Kel’Rakur.”
The moment his full name left your lips, he groaned, deep, almost pained before his mouth crashed into yours.
His tongue pushed in, hungry and demanding, fighting yours for control in a messy, desperate kiss.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath between kisses, the word vibrating against your tongue, sending fresh sparks between your legs.
“I want more,” you whispered into his mouth.
And he obeyed instantly.
His hips snapped up, the head of his cock pressing into you for one blinding second before he pulled back, leaving you empty and gasping.
“Agh—” The sound tore from your throat, breathless and stunned. You finally understood why he had been so careful. Why he kept asking if you wanted to stop.
He could rip you in half.
Literally.
“Princess,” he purred your title, but there was something even softer underneath it now.
“I’m okay,” you breathed, pressing your forehead to his chest again. “Keep… going.”
But everything stopped.
His hand left your leg for a split second, tapping the device on his shoulder. The invisibility cloak shimmered around you both, wrapping you in its hazy shield.
You froze, eyes wide, staring at him.
Someone was coming.
You were spread open for him in the middle of the pool, completely exposed and he still had the presence of mind to protect you from prying eyes.
“Don’t move,” he whispered.
The water around you stilled.
The door clicked open. Two Sylthari stumbled in, giggling, their footsteps heading straight for one of the large stalls.
They didn’t even glance at the scattered clothes and armor on the floor, too lost in each other to notice anything else.
The stall door shut behind them with a soft click.
You finally let out the breath you had been holding and looked back at Kel’Rakur. He was perfectly still, arms braced under your knees, eyes locked on you.
“Let’s go—” he started, already beginning to lower you.
You grabbed his shoulders, legs tightening around him. “Keep going,” you whispered. “They can’t see us.”
“But they can hear us,” he rasped, his voice painted with something close to panic.
“So you’re that loud?” You gave him a smug smile, “afraid you’re gonna scream while you come—”
The words died on your throat.
His hips snapped up hard.
His cock pushed inside you. The thick, pointed tip stretched you open, hot and slippery, forcing your walls to part around him. He didn’t retreat this time. He kept pressing forward, slowly, every inch of him sliding deeper, filling you until your breath caught and your nails dug into his shoulders.
The stretch burned in the most exquisite way.
You bit your lip hard, trying not to cry out, but a soft, broken whimper still escaped.
Kel’Rakur groaned low in his throat, forehead dropping to rest against yours, his whole body trembling while he was holding back.
“Fuck,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “You feel… so tight.”
He stayed there for a moment, buried halfway inside you, letting you adjust while the Sylthari’s giggles echoed faintly from the stall.
Then he rolled his hips again, softer but deep enough to make your eyes flutter shut and your mouth fall open in a silent moan.
The water rippled softly around you.
And for the first time all night, the teasing stopped.
There was only him.
There was pressure, a deep, burning fullness that made your toes curl, but it was the kind of ache that melted into pleasure almost instantly.
“Fuck—” he cursed again, his mandibles finding your shoulder. He didn’t bite down this time, just held you there, trembling against your skin.
“I feel like I’m going to melt inside you,” he whispered, voice nothing like the terrifying hunter everyone else knew.
“Kel—” you gasped as he started to pull back. “No, no, please—I want it,” you begged, face buried in the hard pecs of his chest.
“Don’t… don’t beg me, Princess—” His words broke, mouth pressing harder into your shoulder like he was fighting not to lose control completely.
“I want you. I want to feel you. Please, Kel, please—”
A pained groan vibrated from his throat, like a whine you had never heard any Yautja make before.
You turned your face to his, hands gently guiding his mouth away from your shoulder so you could look him in the eyes.
“You won’t hurt me,” you said softly, reading the hesitation written all over his face. “But if you do, I’ll tell you. I promise.”
He still looked torn, so you kept going, voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m not doing this just because I want sex. It’s because I want to have sex with you.”
“But it’s your first time,” he rasped. “I don’t want to—”
“You won’t hurt me. Besides…” You let out a soft chuckle, lips brushing the side of his face. “You’ve seen me using all those penetrating devices in my chambers, you freak.”
His purr stuttered and then deepened.
“I needed to make sure you were safe—”
“You didn’t,” you interrupted, grinning.
“Fine.” He exhaled, his mandibles twitching. “You just sounded so fucking hot, Princess. My ears were tingling every time I heard you moan through the walls.”
“Did you ever masturbate while watching me play with myself? Hiding behind that cloak of yours?”
“No.”
You smiled, dragging your tongue along one of his locks caught between your fingers. “I believe you. You’re a man of your word.”
The purr in his chest grew louder, hungrier.
“So that’s why I believe you’re going to fuck me so good,” you whispered against his ear, “I’ll feel you for days.”
His hips rolled forward, slower this time, but you knew they weren’t going to stop. Inch by inch he sank into you, stretching you open, until you felt there was no space left. You held onto his shoulders, your breath lost, fingers twisting into his dreads as you squeezed tight.
“Yes… yes, just like that,” you moaned, voice breaking as the ridges and bumps along his cock dragged against your sensitive walls, pulsing hot and alive inside you.
He groaned deep in his throat, forehead dropping to rest against yours, every muscle in his body taut.
“Ah—fuck, yes, yes—” you encouraged him, voice breaking on every word.
Only when you spoke did his hips start moving again, obeying every single command like he was helpless to do anything else.
His head dropped to your shoulder, hiding his face so you wouldn’t have to watch him struggle.
“Again,” you moaned, tugging harder on his dreads. “I want to feel you again—”
The words had barely left your lips when you felt the sharp sting, his mandibles finally giving in, piercing your shoulder just enough to break the skin.
You gasped.
His tongue was there instantly, lapping at the small drops of blood with a broken, apologetic groan.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped against your shoulder, voice cracking. “I’m sorry.”
“Keep going,” you breathed, needy and breathless. “Keep—fucking me.”
His hips snapped up, cock sliding deep inside you in one smooth thrust. Your breath was stolen again as he found a rhythm he wasn’t about to lose. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders so you wouldn’t fly out of his grip with every powerful thrust.
His cock drove into you again and again, the ridges and bumps dragging perfectly against your walls. That soft, whiny sound he had been making slowly turned into the deep, guttural groan you knew Yautja made when they were lost in mating.
“Yes—yes, just like that,” you begged, your voice trembling. “Kel, I love it. I want more—more—”
His hips slammed faster, water splashing violently around you both. You were almost certain the Sylthari in the stall could hear every wet thrust, every moan, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
“Ugh—” The moan choked off in your throat the moment you felt it.
The vibration.
It wasn’t the usual low purr all Yautja could produce of course. The artificial lungs he had told you about were humming inside him, sending powerful waves straight through his cock and into your core.
Before he could bury himself to the hilt, while his vibrating length was still pulsing inside you, he suddenly stopped.
With a strained growl he pulled you off him completely, arms wrapping around you in a crushing hug.
You whined at the sudden emptiness, insides clenching around nothing, cold and aching.
The bathroom stall door clicked open. The two Sylthari stumbled out, still giggling, clothes messy, hands intertwined. One leaned in to kiss the other. Their eyes flicked toward your scattered clothes for a second… but they kept walking, too wrapped up in each other to investigate.
You stayed clinging to Kel’Rakur, face buried against his chest, lips brushing his cool skin as you kissed a slow path up to his neck.
“If they told me I would die tonight,” he whispered, “I’d be okay with it.”
You felt his throat vibrate under your mouth as he spoke.
“I’ve never felt anything like this in my chest. Every time you kiss me, my skin burns. It almost scares me.” His thumb traced your lips,“I love how they feel on me.”
You giggled softly, pushing lightly against his chest. “Are you still high on the aphrodisiac?”
“I don’t know,” he murmured, one hand cradling your face while the other kept you pressed close. “But I don’t think this feeling in my chest is going to disappear once we leave here.”
He leaned in until his mouth hovered just inches from yours. You could feel the warm brush of his breath, the soft click of his mandibles close, but never quite touching. He was waiting. Giving you the choice. Checking if you still wanted this.
You looked up into his eyes. They were golden and soft, but the longer you stared, the darker they became, pupils slowly swallowing the light until they looked almost black with need.
“Kel,” you whispered his name, your hands resting on his shoulders as you leaned in to kiss the side of his neck.
A low growl vibrated under your lips. His head tilted back slowly, offering you more skin, more access.
Even though you weren’t making out, even though his hands weren’t roaming your body, the moment felt more intimate than anything else that had happened tonight.
Electric. Your skin prickled with static at every small touch.
He was exposing the most vulnerable part of himself. The one spot Yautja were taught to protect above all else.
The thought that his defenses were completely down for you made your heart stutter in your chest.
“I thought Yautja didn’t expose their necks that easily,” you murmured against his skin.
“We don’t,” he purred, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, gently pressing your lips closer. “Even if you decided to hold a blade to my throat… I’d still accept it.”
“Why?” You pulled back just enough to look at him. “Do you trust me that much?”
“I can see there is no harmful intention in you,” he said quietly. “You’ve only given me this weird feeling in my chest I’ve never felt before. You don’t scare me because you could harm me.”
His thumb brushed your cheek, eyes never leaving yours.
“You scare me because you confuse me.”
The words settled between you. For a moment the playful push and pull faded, leaving only the quiet weight of what was growing between you.
You slowly pulled back, your mouth leaving the soft skin of his neck as his words settled over you like a heavy blanket.
“You also confuse me…” you admitted softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the side of his face.
“Does it scare you?” he asked, eyes fluttering shut as your lips brushed over his eyelids.
“No,” you whispered. “Not really.”
He exhaled shakily. “If I give myself to you… will you keep me?”
The question came out almost the same as before, vulnerable, with the same quiet fear that you would go back to treating him like a stranger once the trip ended. His heart was hammering under your palm, fast and unsure.
You pressed your hand against him, feeling the frantic beat, making sure you weren’t imagining it.
His body shifted when he realized what you were doing.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice barely above a breath.
“Why is your heart beating so fast?” you asked back, lips finding that sweet, sensitive spot just behind his mandibles.
You had never kissed it before, but the second your mouth touched it, a deep, involuntary sound poured out of his throat, coaxing you without him even meaning to.
“Princess—” He grabbed your wrists, but there was no strength behind it. He couldn’t push you away. You were slowly breaking every defense he had left.
Your hand traveled lower, nails lightly scratching over the warm olive-tan skin of his torso. His muscles flexed helplessly under your touch. You found the hard plane of his abdomen beneath the water, then kept going, agonisingly slow, until your fingers brushed the slit at his crotch.
There it was. Hot. Pulsing. His cock, as if neglected, waiting for you.
You traced the skin with your fingertips first, then wrapped your hand around the thick, ridged shaft. The little bumps along his length made your palm tingle as you gave him one slow, experimental stroke.
He gasped a heavy sound that barely resembled his usual dialect anymore. His head fell back, eyes closing as you moved your hand from base to tip, not rushing, not squeezing too hard, just feeling him. Memorising every part, every twitch of his hips when you brushed over the sensitive head.
He was completely lost to it, instincts surrendered, letting you do whatever you wanted.
You started pumping your fist a little faster, making sure to squeeze gently around the pointy tip each time, the motion that made his hips jerk forward every single time, chasing more friction.
His head stayed thrown back, guttural groans filling the marble room around you. Curses and muffled sounds slipped past the hand he pressed over his own mouth as water splashed with every stroke of your fist. You bit your lip when his free hand suddenly grabbed your waist, nails digging into your flesh as he pulled you closer.
You leaned in, using both hands now to work his cock, mesmerised by the lewd, wet sounds the water and his precum made together.
You felt his hips rock slowly against your hand, muscles flexing as he pushed himself further into your palms. The tip of your thumb stroked over the sensitive head of his cock, drawing a low, broken sound from deep in his throat.
The sight was almost breathtaking, the water rippling around you with every thrust, his thick length sliding through your fingers, the pointed tip emerging from the surface before disappearing again. Each time he drove forward, the ridges dragged against your skin and you squeezed a little tighter, watching the way his tip flushed a deeper, darker shade.
A small spurt of cloudy precum leaked from him, glowing faintly green under the purple light.
His hands had left your body completely, now gripping the edge of the pool so hard his claws scratched the marble. He thrust again, smoother, deeper, his abdomen flexing powerfully as he chased the friction of your fists. You couldn’t stop imagining how it would feel inside you, that same precise, confident rhythm finding your g-spot and hitting it over and over until you cried his name in pleasure.
The thought made your mouth water.
Without a warning, you lowered your head, lips parting as you took the tip of his cock into your mouth.
His hips stuttered, turning shaky and almost uncontrollable. Small, desperate thrusts pushed him deeper between your lips, the head bumping against the roof of your mouth while your hands kept working the rest of his length.
You sucked harder, sealing your lips tighter around him, tongue swirling over the sensitive underside.
A deep, guttural roar tore from his chest, as his head fell back. His eyes were either squeezed shut or lost on the mirrored ceiling above, watching the reflection of your head bobbing between his thighs.
Water splashed softly with every movement. His claws scraped louder against the marble edge, body trembling as he fought not to thrust too hard into your mouth.
You looked up at him through wet lashes, lips stretched around his cock and the pure hunger in his gaze made something hot and possessive bloom low in your belly.
He was completely at your mercy.
One of your hands left his length, reaching up to fist a handful of his dreadlocks, forcing his head down so he had no choice but to look at you. Your mouth kept working him slowly, as you watched his gaze turn dazed, a faint frown creasing his features while a vivid green glow washed over his face and it made you wonder just how close he was to coming undone right then.
You pulled off his cock with a loud, wet pop that earned you a deep, chest-rumbling groan. His eyes stayed locked on your mouth, like those swollen lips were the sole reason for his suffering.
“Are you going to stop me?” you asked, tugging his dreads a little harder until he leaned forward helplessly. Your other hand never stopped its steady, slick strokes that dragged another frustrated groan from deep in his throat.
His mandibles parted, breath coming in short bursts as he stared down at you.
You smiled around the head of his cock before taking him back in, tongue swirling, eyes never leaving his.
His hand shot up, grabbing your face as his tongue pushed into your mouth, groaning the words against your lips.
“Not here.”
You kept stroking him, only slowing down now, your foreheads pressed together while his breath ghosted hot over your mouth.
“Where?” you asked softly, eyes dropping to watch the way his mandibles stretched every time your thumb circled his tip.
“Ship,” he managed, choking on the word as another groan tore from his throat. His hand fisted in your hair, pulling you back gently so you would stop touching him.
The moment you released his cock, he slapped the device on his shoulder. The invisibility cloak shimmered and vanished around you.
He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you flush against him as your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso. Your lips found his chest while he carried you out of the water.
He set you down carefully near your scattered clothes and his armor, but his arms never left your waist, talons digging softly into your skin. He seemed almost addicted to it by now.
Your knees felt weak. His eyes burned over every inch of your bare body, chest rumbling with a need so strong you could almost feel it radiating from him.
Once you dressed back into your ruined dress and he had reattached his armor and helmet, his hand landed on your shoulder, pushing you back until you took two steps and your spine met the wall.
You stared up at him like prey caught in a trap.
“Yeah,” he murmured, the voids of his mask flashing red once. “That look you’re giving me right now… are you worried I’ll corner you?”
He pressed his hand against the wall beside your head. “You still have time to back away.”
Your mind went blank. You blinked up at him, suddenly registering the sheer size of him again, even realising exactly what you had been begging for all night and from whom.
Nothing felt easygoing anymore. Everything had become complicated.
Because whatever this Yautja wanted from you wasn’t going to end tonight.
It wasn’t a one-night thing for him.
He had asked you, over and over, to decide what you really wanted from him.
And since you had said yes… you had to keep that promise.
Right?
But your plan… ruling your own lands after your father married you off, that had been your life’s blueprint. It was supposed to stay that way.
It couldn’t change this easily… over one guard.
One infuriatingly handsome, incredibly sweet guard…
You cursed internally while he tilted his head, searching your face for any clue to your intentions.
“Do you think,” you said, pressing a single finger to his chest and pushing lightly. He moved back as if you held all the power in the world, “that I can’t handle a mere guard like you?”
You flashed him a smile, before you feel him exhale, all the tension draining from his shoulders.
“Are you trying to scare me off?”
“Maybe,” he answered, voice mechanical through the helmet.
“It doesn’t work, Kel’Rakur.” You grabbed his hand, your steps bold and loud as you dragged him out of the bathroom.
“If I don’t feel that vibrating cock inside me again, I’m not returning to Yautja Prime.”
You sounded confident, a little too confident than you meant to.
His answer came in three quiet words that made you smile to yourself.
“Yes, my lady.”
a/n: Our lovely boy is back and he is definitely more than just a tease 🫣 l wanna hear all about your thoughts in the comments and how do we like submissive Kel’Rakur so far 🤭 I missed you guys so much, a lot has been happening in my life lately but returning back to you is always the best thing. Thank you all so much for supporting me and messaging me this whole time, I love you all and can’t wait to catch up with you 🩷🙏
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Yautja x Reader | Original Characters | Prompt: Threesome x Alien Abduction | ummm maybe a little bit of dub con and a breeding kink…| 4,495 words
You didn’t really mean to sneak into the alien ship. I mean… You did… But to be fair it was a once in a lifetime opportunity! You were just going in for a second and coming right back out. The ship had landed in the forest behind your house, breaking through the sky like thunder late at night. Stupidly, you went to investigate and found it nicely hidden and camouflaged with trees and shrubbery. It didn’t seem to look like the cartoon UFO’s, or those Star Wars spacecrafts. The ramp into it wasn't lit, and the inside of the ship was dark, only illuminated by blinking lights. You walked around, running your fingers over smooth black surfaces, red runes, and cold walls. The hallways seemed to be carved out with shapes telling stories emanating an orange glow. There was mist and a few pipes hissing as if the ship were cooling down.
You went into different rooms, finding the controllers at the very front. The seats were huge and surprisingly comfy. You didn’t touch any buttons, not foolish enough to cause a mishap. Then you continued wondering. There was a space that looked like a food storage or kitchen, another that contained weapons and armory. You grabbed one of the large helmets and looked into it, touching the lining inside and then slipping it on your head. It was too heavy on your shoulders so you took it off and placed it back. After inspecting the various weapons from a safe distance—like looking at art in a museum—you headed out and went into another room. It looked clinical. This must be their med-bay. The Star Trek fan in you was wiggling excitedly. There was a clinical bed in the middle, the header built into the wall; machinery, and different tools. Then, you heard a noise.
Hissing.
Probably a pipe.
Maybe it was time to go home. You’d rather be safe than story.
On your way out you found another room, its large door wide open, almost beckoning you inside. You looked in. The curiosity was itching in your mind. Unfortunately, you couldn’t scratch your brain, but you could check out the room. Then you’d be gone.
You headed inside. There were weird things lined up in glass walls and vials. Plants filling some shelves, overgrown or contained in glass boxes. Some vials had strange liquids and substances, others contained creatures you had never seen before. There was a wall that displayed bones and skulls of many kinds, and then, following that, was a line up of very large containers. The first container with a yellowish liquid had what you could only describe as an egg, two slits on the top of it. The next had an odd creature with long, skinny legs and a long tail. It looked like a giant spider with skin which made your stomach flip with disgust. The one after looked like a large snake, the same shade as the giant spider-thing. This one had a snarl, with tini-tiny sharp teeth. No eyes. No nose. Miniature limbs curled. You moved forward, pushed by curiosity, the intense fascination and wonder building in your chest. The last container was larger than the rest. The creature looked like midnight oil, the exoskeleton smooth except for the hole in its long skull. It looked exactly like the smaller creature before it. Looking between them you realized… This was a life cycle. And this had to be a laboratory of sorts, full of different creatures and plants, stuck in time.
You swallowed and suddenly felt a shudder, wrapped your arms around yourself and backed away. But then, your back hit solid and a rumbling clicking came from behind you. Chills ran down your spine, and your eyes focused on the glass of the container, your reflection becoming clear. Towering over your form and gazing down at you was a figure in a helmet like the one you had worn.
You ran.
There was no time to think. The aliens had either never left the ship or had come back, either way you needed to get the hell away from here. You ran down the hallway, looking back over your shoulder as you heard a roar, your heart speeding, blood pounding in your ears. You crashed against another surface, getting knocked down. With a groan, shaken by the sudden slam, you blinked firmly, finding a pair of armored feet, then knee padding and a type of netting over muscular thighs… You quickly looked up to find the barefaced creature, your eyes turning into saucers. The alien had a large crest with small quills, sunken, small, rounded eyes shining gold; his mandible was large, with four pincers. The tusks clicked, the sound coming from his chest making your spine tingle. Then the pincers separated, making his jaw open wide and reveal even more sharp teeth.
You passed out.
Dramatic really.
When you came to, you gazed straight into darkness. You blinked several times, but as soon as you reached up to rub at your eyes you saw your hands. You were not blind, just staring into… You sat up… You were staring at the black ceiling. That made a lot more sense.
Quickly, you realized you were in what could be described as a bedroom, cushioned by warm pelts in a fairly large bed. You had not explored this room earlier. The walls were a slick dark color, and you could make out two doors. There wasn’t any significant furniture, nothing really homey. The room was practical, just made for rest. The wall to your right had a view into space.
Wait!
A view into space?!
You shot out of the bed quickly, eyes wide as you took in the view. Very distant stars and no planets in sight. You were essentially staring into the void. These… creatures took you. You were alive, but for how long?
You hurried towards one of the doors, trying the pad on the wall. The door slid open into a bathroom. Huh… You walked in, curiosity still taking over you. It was also very practical, but the design wasn't human. So, aliens do use toilets. You thought to yourself, inspecting the odd basin and what was probably a sink built into the very wall. You couldn't tell where the shower was, though.
Focus! You blinked fast and left the bathroom, trying the other pad by the other door. It opened into the familiar hallways of the spaceship. You stepped into it and tried to remember the layout from your snooping. What were you trying to find? The aliens? What were you going to do if you did find them anyway? Beg them to take you back to Earth? Beg them for your life? You were still alive. Well, the only thing you had was finding out, at least your lust for curiosity could be satisfied. It was your curiosity that led you here. Now you understood why curiosity killed the cat.
You made it to the head of the ship where the controllers were, and sure enough you found the two aliens sitting, piloting. You could see the blackish, tubed appendages of their heads that resembled hair. Maybe it was hair. Odd hair. You came closer. Quietly. But as soon as you were going to touch the shoulder of the alien, his hand shot out and clamped over your wrist. He pulled you into his lap, both males letting out a sound much like a laugh which made your skin heat up.
Now straddling the creature you remember him as the one who caught you earlier. His skin was leathery and a deep shade of green, specs of yellow peppering his hide. You stared terrified up at him, your hands pressed against his armor to keep yourself upright. He tilted his head, a rumble vibrating deep within his chest and against your palms.
“You are trouble, little ooman.” He spoke. It was odd. He knew English which was also a surprise to you. He didn’t have lips, so you wondered how he could pronounce the words. You could find out what they wanted and that somehow made you feel… at ease? You didn’t know what to feel, really. You were still alert, your heart at the verge of bursting through your chest, however there didn’t seem to be any immediate danger.
“T-Trouble? N-No! No, trouble. I don't want trouble.”
The other alien laughed, mandibles twitching. His skin was lighter, an olive yellowish-green with brown specs and stripes. He had red eyes. He was the one with the mask earlier. He had many sharp quills above his eyes traveling over his temples and crest. “You possess no threat to us, ooman.”
“T-Then why am I here? Why did you take me?”
The one holding you raised a hand towards you, his sharp black claws making you gasp and flinch back. He did not desist from his approach and used one nail to gently move some of your hair out of the way. His eyes were heavy on you, commanding your gaze to stay locked with his. It was intimidating, but his golden eyes still drew you in. “We meant to go hunting.” His nail traveled down to trace the outline of your rounded ear. “But our prey came right to us instead."
“Prey?”
“You, little ooman.”
Your voice trembled, “You're gonna eat me?” He laughed again. “What's so funny?”
“We have no interest in eating you.” The other one says. “You trespassed into our territory. Our hunting grounds. Broke into our ship. It was only valid that we took you.”
“How is that valid? You parked your spaceship in my backyard!”
“We've hunted there long before your home resided on the premises.” He said.
“So? What do you want from me?”
“Well,” The one holding you started, his hands moving to grope your thighs as if testing the muscle and then grabbing your arms to stretch them out. “You would probably trade well. There are many uses for oomans out here. And a female like you doubles in price. You seem healthy.” He poked your stomach and you squeak, squirming back. If he could smile he would have. Instead, his mandible stretched, pincers clicking in amusement. “Pudgy.”
Then he did something unexpected: he leaned in and his tongue slithered out, long and coarse—snake-like. He licked up your collarbone to your neck. You gasped, heat pooling in your lower belly and he laughed. “Fertile.”
“Really now?” The other one said and leaned over the console in the middle to grab your chin. His tongue also came out to give your neck a languid lick which made you shiver, the texture prickly against your skin. Your breath hitched, making your heart skip a beat. Hurriedly, you pushed away from him, setting your hand on the spot where both of them licked.
“There will be no trading or selling.” You grit out.
“Debatable.” The one holding you responded then grabbed your chin, tilting your face, fingers pressing into your skin, the tips of his sharp claws prickling your skin. “Creatures like you are expendable.”
“What are you then? A god?”
His tusks clicked, “Gods, huh? That sounds nice, doesn’t it? We are nothing you know of. Nothing oomans are aware of.”
“Yautja.” The other one said, leaning back in his chair as if bored with the conversation. “I'm Ithaca and he is Xahndar.”
“Cool…” You drawled out dryly. “So… Yautja… What is that?”
Ithaca stood up and Xahndar swivelled his large pilot chair to follow the other male’s movements. He manhandled you on his lap, making your body face Ithaca, his arm locked around your stomach, tightly gripping you into place. You glared back at Xahndar but he grabbed your jaw tightly and turned it to the front.
“A race superior to your ‘human kind’.” Ithaca said as he walked, pacing with his hands clasped behind him. The muscles on his back flexed, his arms bulging with tight muscles. It made your stomach jolt. “We dominate you in technology, survival and knowledge. We are at the very top of the food chain.” Ithaca came to a stop in front of you and Xahndar forced your face up, spreading his giant warm hand around your neck and under your chin. His fingers pressed as if he couldn’t measure his strength or wanted to keep you still. Either way you didn’t move, you just let him move you however he pleased.You imagined Xahndar’s hands back on your thighs then grabbing your hips, forcing you to move on him. It made your thighs press together subconsciously. A very sick part of you was enjoying this interaction. The thought of being powerless against these creatures was exciting and new. The other part of you had red alarm bells going off in your mind. But since when had you actually paid attention to her? Reasonably, you should have been begging them to let you go. Crying. Maybe screaming. Doing something other than sitting pliantly on Xahndar’s lap. These guys were literally threatening to trade you off!
“But…We can be merciful.” Ithaca tilted his head and leaned down, his tusks so close to your face. These creatures weren’t attractive in the way human men were, but the intimidating energy and confidence made your heart leap and your breath catch in your throat. “Perhaps we can find a reasonable use for you. Don’t you think Xahndar?”
The male purred against your back, the vibrations going straight to your cunt. You pressed your thighs harder, moving slightly to ease the ache growing between your legs. Xahndar growled lowly, the arm around your stomach shifting, the free hand moving over your stomach over the cherry print cotton tank top. When his paw reached your breast he gave the braless globe a squeeze. You whimpered instantly, a flush extending from the tips of your ears down your neck.
“Such a pretty sound.” Ithaca growled, his mandible clicking. He reached to your other breast while Xahndar played with one and increased the pressure around your neck. You tried to gasp for air the second he grabbed your breast and teased your nipple through the shirt, the friction making the peak harden. Xahndar spread his legs, forcing your legs apart over his thighs. Ithaca leaned down and stuck his tongue out, running it over your knee to your inner thigh, a purring sound rumbling from him. He licked the crotch of your pants, his tusks brushing your skin dangerously. He groaned, “We haven’t had a female in a very long time.”
“I…” You choked out and Xahndar softened his grip, his tusks touching your ear as they clicked. “D-Don’t call me that.”
“Well, aren’t you a female?” Xahndar grumbled mockingly into your ear, moving his leathery hand under your shirt and pinching your nipple. You squeaked, arching against him.
“I’m not an animal.” You panted.
Ithaca hummed, dropping his hand from your breast to grab the waistband of the matching cherry print pajama shorts. “You sure make noises like one.” Instead of pulling the shorts down, he stretched them and tore them off along with your underwear. You shuddered and whined as the cool air in the ship hit your bare skin, and attempted to close your legs. However, Ithaca growled and grabbed the inside of your thighs, pushing them to the side to keep your legs open. “Stop squirming.”
Xahndar pressed his hand firmly around your neck again, making you still, your clit throbbing at the sensation. Then he pulled your shirt up over your breasts, revealing the plush skin and pretty pink peaks. He growled and licked your ear letting his tusks gently nibble at the skin as he moved his free hand again to grab at your tits and play with your nipples, allowing his claws to pinch the sensitive skin and leave little red marks behind. At the same time Ithaca dove in, licking your skin firmly over your folds, not quite giving you any stimulation yet. It seemed experimental. He placed one hand on your mound, rubbing the heated skin with his thumb, the slight fuzz growing there making him click curiously. He moved his other hand from your thigh and carefully spread your folds, trying not to nick you with his claws.
At the sight of the deep-pink skin glistening and sticky he purred hungrily and finally stuck his tongue out to taste you. The texture of his tongue had you seeing stars, eyes rolling back in your skull as a breathless gasp made it out of your throat. Xahndar laughed in your ear and moved his hand from your breast to your hip. Gripping tightly he forced you to move, your ass grinding down on the hardness covered by his leather loincloth. Ithaca groaned and pushed his face closer to your cunt, licking ferociously, tongue slithering over your entrance, teasing at first and then sinking in. You moaned loudly, the thrusts of his textured tongue stimulating your walls and that spongy gooey spot inside you. Ithaca used his thumb to carefully rub at your clit, the pressure rough and consistent. Xahndar increased his hold on your neck, cutting the oxygen to your brain, making you lightheaded. So when Ithaca pinched your clit and gave another thrust with his tongue, you came hard, walls throbbing around Ithaca’s tongue. With a deep animalistic groan, Ithaca thrust his tongue a few times then slowly pulled his tongue out, Xahndar also easing his grip and giving your cheek a soft lick. Almost like comforting you.
“Isn’t he greedy, little ooman? Tasting you and drinking you without letting me have a taste, too?” Xahndar purred into your ear. Your head was still swimming with the heady feeling of your orgasm to answer.
“S'yuit-de.” Ithaca grumbled then stood up and grabbed you from Xahndar’s lap, turning you and hoisting you onto his arms, your body supported by his broad chest. “Give him a taste, woman.” Your thighs were spread over his arms and he held you tightly, Xahndar’s golden eyes trained onto your core. He was like a thirsty man in the desert finding an oasis. His knees hit the floor almost instantly and he ministered lick after lick, not being as gentle as Ithaca. He made you cry, your head falling back against Ithaca’s shoulder and in turn he made your hips move against Xahndar’s mouth, forcing you to grind harder against the rough tongue, the Yautja’s mandibles scraping your skin and leaving marks behind. Your thighs attempted to clamp shut as they shook, your cunt dripping obscenely, but Ithaca kept you firmly open, purring at the shaking of your convulsing body and heat, moving you quicker. “You want to cum on his tongue don’t you? Go on. Be good. Give Xahndar a taste.” He growled huskily into your ear and licked the sweat on your jaw down to your shoulder and sunk his fangs down hard enough to draw blood. In an instant you were crying out in both pain and pleasure, panting breathlessly as you came a second time.
Xahndar growled against you, the vibrations making you whimper, your belly painfully tense. He lapped at your cunt and inner thighs, and when he pulled back and stood up, you were able to see how his face glistened. “You did very well, little ooman.” Xahndar praised. He leaned in, grabbed your chin with one hand and opened his mandible wide so he could get close to your face. Xahandar licked your lips then intruded your mouth with his tongue, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue, a low purr vibrating against your lips. You could practically feel it in your brain, turning it into mush and erasing any thought or protest. You accepted his ministrations, pressing your tongue against his, shuddering at the texture. You heard Ithaca chuckle behind you before he forced you away from Xahndar and threw you over his shoulder. You were dizzy with the motion, but managed to focus on Xahndar following behind Ithaca as he moved. He was removing pieces of his armor through the path until you arrived into a room—the bedroom you woke up in—and landed on your back in the pelts and furs.
As Ithaca towered over you, tusks clicking rhythmically, he removed his armor, the other Yautja also undoing the last piece of his garments. When Xahndar’s leathery, intricate crafted loin cloth—the only thing keeping him decent—fell away, you had to swallow a gasp. The male gave a laugh, his companion also removing his own modest garment. You had never seen something like that. Their members resembled that of human men, however they were girthier and longer to fit their larger anatomy. Their tips were slightly pointier instead of rounded, and had textured ridges along the corona, while their balls hung heavy.
Ithaca grabbed your chin and tilted your face up so you’d look at him. “You seem surprised, ooman.” He leaned over you, straddling you.
You opened your mouth to talk, but Xahndar stood by the bedside right beside you and caressed your stomach up to the pajama shirt still scrunched over your tits. He pulled it up, making you lift your arms. Ithaca let go of your chin to give Xahndar space and instead sat back on his hunches. Xahndar didn’t fully remove your shirt, instead he twisted it around your wrists and hands, tying them together over your head. Then he grabbed your bound wrists and pulled you to the edge of the bed, making your head hang over the edge. Your eyes widened when you came face to face with his member, too distracted by the pearly pre-cum dripping from Xahndar’s slit to realize Ithaca had taken his place between your legs again and spread them over his thighs, propping your ass on his lap to keep you angled and open. When you felt his cock slap onto your stomach you tried to move your head to see, but Xahndar tugged your bound wrists towards himself, keeping them up to lock you in place.
“Shhh, don’t move, little ooman.” Xahndar spoke, while Ithaca caressed your thighs down to your hips, making you shiver under the tickle of his claws.
“Be good for us.” Ithaca said, shifting his hips a bit. He slid his tip between your folds, which made you gasp when he teased your swollen clit.
Xahndar took the chance of your mouth parting to shove the head of his cock between your lips. “There we go. Suck on that. Go on.” You latched your lips around the slightly pointed tip, accepting him into your mouth while Ithaca rubbed himself against your clit and down to your soaping entrance.
“Well isn’t she an obedient little thing?” He teased you at first, just pushing in slightly to dip the head in and out. It was still a tight stretch, a bit uncomfortable however less painful than you had expected since they both had gotten you slick enough. At the same time, Xahndar pushed himself deeper into your mouth, forcing your jaw to open wider to take him in. “We’ll see how long that lasts.” He didn’t stuff your mouth entirely, but enough to make a growl leave him. He didn’t move, waiting for the other Yautja to stop teasing you. You could feel the throbbing of the member in your hot mouth, saliva gathering in your mouth. You couldn’t help but suck down on him, your tongue pressing against the topside of his cock. Xahndar made a noise similar to a moan, which made Ithaca finally ram into you. You let out a broken moan, body arching at the sudden stretch. He had managed to fit the whole length of him into your pussy, the head kissing your cervix. You had to widen your hips in an attempt to ease the overwhelming feeling of fullness, your walls trying hard to push him out.
“There, there. It fit perfectly.” He pressed down on your lower stomach, which made your hole clench down around his girth. It was game over then: Xahndar finally moving in your mouth while Ithaca slowly, slightly pulled out and then slammed back in, starting a slow, steady rhythm, the sound of wet skin slapping against skin filling the room in no time. The ridges of his cock were catching on your gummy walls and the sensitive spots inside you. Every sharp thrust made you whimper around Xahndar, the hum of your sounds making him growl and speed up, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth rapidly.
“Ancestors,” he gasped. “Your mouth is so warm. I bet your cunt is much hotter. Perfect.” You squeezed your eyes shut as he rammed into the back of your throat, forcing you to take all of him; pre-cum and saliva dripping from your mouth. When you gagged around him and tried to keep up with him, Xahndar let out a breathy laugh.
“I assure you: it is.” Ithaca grabbed your hips firmly and pulled you over and over so you’d meet his hips with every thrust. You squirmed, whining as he abused your g-spot. He kept a hand on your hip while the other one moved to play with your clit, adding more stimulation. Your back arched off of the bed, your walls contracting with every lewd squelch. “It will be even better full of our seed. Wouldn’t that be the perfect use for our little inconvenience?” He panted, groaning as he quickened his thrusts and pinched your clit. You mewled, clenching around him again.
Xahndar purred in agreement, twitching in your mouth at the thought of you full of their cum. The feeling of your slick mouth was driving him to the edge, his balls slapping against your face. He could even see the bulge in your throat with every thrust he gave. Xahndar’s hips stuttered. He focused on the way Ithaca’s cock appeared and then disappeared into your pussy. He leaned his body over slightly and placed one hand on your lower stomach to feel the way the other male’s dick made you swell. “The perfect incubator.”
Ithaca growled at Xahndar’s words. In response, Xahndar pushed down on your stomach while Ithaca thrust in, making you cry around Xahndar’s dick and squirt on Ithaca’s. Your walls pulsated and threatened to swallow Ithaca’s cock, which made him moan and cum deep inside you.
“Oh, fuck-” Xahndar shoved his cock all the way into your mouth, pressing his hips against your face as hot spurts of his cum filled your mouth. “Swallow that, little ooman.” He panted, giving a few lazy thrusts. You tried your best, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.
A string of saliva was connecting your mouth to his member once he pulled out. “You did good, little ooman.”
“Very.” Ithaca pulled out gently, caressing your womb.
It’s needless to say that that was just the beginning of your journey with the two Yautja.
Note:
Ya'll I came through! After days of writing and editing. Here it is. The 9 page (based on my doc, and single spaced...) hellion I wrote. I hope you enjoyed this extra long update. Clearly I'm an overwriter and love plot... I'mma try to keep it short next time. I'll keep updating Kinktober even after October, cause I really do want to challenge myself and write.
── .✦ synopsis ; you fought for survival, a worthy opponent. when you get stuck in a situation against the predator you become more than just his opponent.
the floor.. painted in red, decorated an absolute mess of detached limbs. your jaw was clenched tightly in fear of blood meeting your taste buds. your whole body shook in terror. you could feel your heart beat in your throat and it was a loud drum that muffled your hearing. a dripping streak of blood that wasn't yours ran diagonal across your face and soaked your clothing, or maybe it was the deep gashes and dents found in your skin from the fight you managed to put up.
at least eight feet tall, twice your size and towering over your cowering form, back tight against the wall with some kind of fearful attempt to keep space between you and this humanoid-like being. a helmet made of tough metal and gadgets made of technology so intricate, futuristic, and better yet— powerful. it wasn't technology from the current state of earth, for sure. you could barely breathe as it just.. stood there. his head tilted from side to side but never took a step as it echoed soft clicks from behind the mask. heavy in his hand, a human skull still partially attached to the spine. he studied you quietly, a slow step forward. said skull dropped to the floor and began to roll as he leaned down to your height, intently glaring. you barely felt like you could breathe, staying still as if it'd attack just from a finger twitch. your weapon was long gone, thrown somewhere along the forest floor with no means to protect yourself. whatever eyes that hid behind the mask met yours, a silent stare of measured dominance.
clawed, bloodied fingers reached for you. you flinched at the action, nervous as it reached for your face that held a tight neutral expression. just larger than your head, his massive scaled hand rested and felt down the skin of your cheek. blood followed under his palm, the sharp nails scraping against the surface and leaving minor scratches behind. you didn't mean to relax. the air finally flowed through your lungs like normal and your tight shoulders released. he observed you thoroughly, watching while your heart rate regulated and your cheeks dusted pink underneath thick crimson. his mask clicked, a soft whirring before it tumbled to the floor and stopped by your foot. it revealed a montrous face, bottom half donned with a large set of mandibles and sharp teeth and yellow, beady eyes. whether it be an intimidation factor or a sign of vulnerability, it made your stomach drop.
skin stretched around his mouth with the twitch of his mandibles and a snarl, breath warm against your face. anyone this close to a predator was usually being killed. but not you. his face almost touched yours and the careful graze of his fingers down your chest made your cunt twitch, deep breath leaving your mouth. the disgust you felt for it argued with the slick collecting in your panties. you didn't stop his research of your body, stumbling when you stood up straight. purr like clicks from him as you met his chest. almost. if it weren't for the few foot difference.
with a soft gargle, he began to mumble.
"ship.. with me." he grumbled with a scratchy, deep, almost human-like voice. you blinked at first, in pure awe.
he said no more along with your stunned silence, watching you tumble forward when you stood up straight. his chest is hard with armor and his skin surprisingly warm. apparently you took too long to answer, a series of click and just seconds to be thrown over his shoulder.
"hey!" you screeched, hands against his back in fright of falling. "let me go!" your legs kicked like a child, banging your fists on his hard back. he adjusted your body atop the wide structure with almost no care. a click of a button and your figures simultaneously disappeared. your whining lungs meant nothing to him, your yells giving up on you eventually. your stomach churned uncomfortably as if awaiting your death. you hung limp, unsure whether to accept this as your fate or not.
unbelievably large, heavy set engines and dark metals. full of trinkets you couldn't wrap your head around. at least for a moment it took your mind off your impending death. you had no idea what anything was nor how it worked. the best word for it was simple. futuristic.
you barely could balance when your body met finally met the floor, your back making impact with what you assumed was their navigation system of some kind. it was full of a language you didn't understand and a thousand different things to press or push. the mysterious alien pursued, soft clicks that resembled purrs and his body closing in on yours. your neck ached, hands shaking at your sides and your knees threatening to give out from underneath you. scaled skin and armor flat against you, chin nudging his mid section above where a belly button would be with your eyes never leaving. he smelled heavily like dried blood, no doubt from recent activities and an unknown sweet. it melted the hair follicles residing in your nose, causing a scrunch.
a hand ran down the back of your head, a gentle caress. your tangled hair tugged against his fingers, coming undone with slow brushes. you felt shame in the enjoyment of his attention, body hot in embarrassment. with nervous touches, finger tips shivering on his hip bones.
there was a rise of heat between your legs, your knees trembling anxiously as his mandibles flicked and stretched with a growl. your scent became heavy in the air of the closed area of the aircraft, an unseen nose that could intake the aroma of your arousal and a shake of the head in disbelief. a low grunt and a shift of weight on his legs, hips gliding against your chest with an obvious weight underneath loincloth-like armor that wasn't there before. your pheromones swam in the air like sugar dissolving in ice cold water, sticking to the roof of his mouth.
his cock grew slowly, pumping blood into his fat, throbbing veins. you leaned back in intimidation, his heavy cock barely held up and struggling against his protective coverings. his hum made your body rumble again and your clit twitch, panties sticking to your skin. your chest rose and fell as the ship became ten degrees warmer and tension rose. he clicked impatiently, no hesitancy in clawed fingers when he tore off his lower armor. a rough clunk to the floor and his cock finally snapping up freely, almost slapping you in the face.
you salivated. drool pooled in your closed mouth. his cock was full of ridges along the bottom and a hot leaking liquid of white pouring from the pink tip, different from the shaft akin to the rest of his green tinted body. your thighs squeezed together and you gulped loudly, shaking hands reaching to wrap around him. heavy and dripping into your palms, your hands barely fitting its size in your grip. it twitched, responding positively to your slow strokes. your pussy could already feel the stretch, whining softly with your tongue out to catch the tip. he tasted strangely sweet and he smelled strongly like a bitter musk. you couldn't fit him in your jaw, tongue darting greedily over the top ridges. your drool dripped down the tip and your hands twisted down the shaft with soft wet noises. his groans could almost be human if it weren't for the animalistic growls beneath it. you moaned around his skin, ignoring the strange smell he exuded.
impatient, he shifted in your tiny hands with a grunt. a warning. your eyes blinked upwards, tongue dipping to run over the frenulum. massive hands hoisted you up on the massive desk of tech. his head jerked quickly to the side before tearing what clothes you had on off, leaving goosebumps along your skin when the cold breeze brushed against you. his cock laid weighed against your folds when he wiggled his way between your thighs, swallowing thickly in realization. you weren't sure if it'd even fit, the pudgy tip nudging and probing against your hole. your heart beat loud, unsure whether to be fearful or excited.
a loud squeal echoed. a huge stretch that made your cunt ache sharply and your hands forcing themselves to scratch at his forearms. you couldn't hear the purrs over the pain, heaving loudly with every painful inch. it stole the breath from your lungs and the strength from your body, his slow pushing hips barely easing you a third of the way in.
"dear god—" you mumbled, straining and your thighs fighting to squeeze in pain. 'just a little more' you told yourself. it was a lot more. perhaps even you underestimated the size. one more.. and then another. half way in. a few more inches. your body screamed until he finally reached a hilt, pelvis against pelvis.
it felt like forever, the stretch of your cunt getting used to something so big. his slow thrusts and his cock stretching your insides the their maximum capacity. your tummy bulged in the shape of his cock, your thighs shaking underneath the stress and your first relieved moan falling from your lips. you've never imagined taking someone or something of this size. it made your eyes roll back with just one thrust. you could feel every vein pulse, every ridge, every twitch of his cock inside you. it drove you mad. your body rocked against the table, the force of his large body against your tiny one making you seem like a bug he could squash if he wanted to. your pleasured whines echoed, his hands placing themselves on your waist, cradling your lower back to have you meet his hips in the middle of each thrust. you were like a fuck-toy. weak underneath him and practically limp. you let him use your tight cunt, drool slipping down your jaw and your arms falling from his forearms as he picked up the pace. you could only babble mindlessly, not even sure what you were saying. his cock occasionally bumped against your clit, leaving your legs to twitch and your back to arch. you could already feel it building. the knot in your stomach, the pressure of your walls attempting to squeeze down further around his cock. you shot blanks. a completely silent scream in release of the best orgasm you've ever had. your lungs could barely keep up, your body dropping down and your back meeting the bumpy and bluntly sharp metal of the table underneath you. but you didn't seem to mind.
hips slammed, body barely even able to process such ecstasy. you weren't even over the first orgasm, your throat dry when you swallowed. loud moans were ripped from said throat, your weak muscles that failed you. greedily enough, you were enjoying the way he used you. his fat cock gliding inside you like it were nothing even despite the size, his loud growls and clicks telling you he was just as pleased as you were when your second orgasm came around just as powerful as the first. hands that began to tighten around your waist and his animalistic groans made your head spin, a sweet primal fury. saliva dripped from his mandibles and even with the lack of eyebrows, they furrowed in approval and his face scrunched. you could feel the wild twitch of his cock in your tummy, his spit falling to your abdomen. a raw roar that shook you to the core and almost shook the ship with the bass alone. the feeling of being stuffed with an amount of cum you didn't even know was possible, the feeling of being about to burst in the best way possible. it warmed your walls and stuck to the sides, an immense amount of extra fluids dripping out of your cunt and onto the floor. he huffed with heavy breaths, just for a few moments. a few wasn't enough. his arms hooked under your thighs, lifting your body off the system. and it started all over again. he slammed your body down seamlessly, allowing you to rise and fall down on his large cock.
he'd keep you here forever, stuffing you with cum. a human. it was bordering on forbidden, but you were a mate nonetheless.
Just wanted to say thank you for writing my ask! <3 I love all your works and when I saw it I got all giddy!
It sounds like you're really busy so don't worry about about continuing! I'm happy with what's written already!! <3
A Total Smash Part 2
Pairings: Dai'stbaen (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader
Warnings: SMUT, thigh fucking, kinda? dirty talking, P in V, knotting, creampies, hints of breeding (if you squint).
Word Count: 3904
Summary: After your front door was busted down by a bad blood, your house is far too cold to sleep in alone. Dai'stbaen and yourself are forced to share a bed to keep the other alive. The cold is killing even when you are cocooned in by blankets. Dai'stbaen takes it upon himself to make sure you survive. Close contact turns into something else.
Author Note: Alright, I hoped I redeemed myself in this part! I know you didn't ask for a second part but I had someone do It. Plus, I felt a need to finish it off. So, I busted butt and whipped this thing out for you.
Masterlist
Ao3
Part 1
The bed was familiar underneath you; offering relief after a long, hard day. In this moment of time, it didn’t give a sense of ease or content. Your spine was tense from base to head. An alien figure laid next to you, breaths barely heard in the silence of your house. Someone you had only met hours ago and now had to sleep next to for warmth. Anyway to survive the night so you could make it to tomorrow for a trip to town.
Everything felt off. The silence that engulfed the entire house since the heat had been shut off. There was no use of keeping it on. That’ll will only burn out the system and make for a pain in the ass at a later date. You used the blankets to cover yourself more as the biting cold nipped through the ones you already had on you.
Yet, as you laid there longer, the cold grew more and more. Your jaw clenched to stop it from chattering. This night was going to be terrible and long. There wasn’t a chance you could sleep this off until morning.
Movement at your side caught your attention. Before you knew it, a hot, thick arm curled around your abdomen. You froze up more, hands immediately going down to grasp the muscles. The arm tugged you from one side of the bed to the other. A yelp surged past your lips. Your back was pressed against a calming warmth that soaked into your veins. You were already starting to relax when his voice broke the silence.
“There’s no need for you to shiver yourself to death. I will not allow that to happen,” he rumbled above your head. Dai’stbaen cocooned around your much smaller form. His one arm stayed firmly around your torso. The other curled under you to follow the same path as the other.
The blankets that covered him were only three layers thick. His warmth surrounded you and fought off the cold. You scootched closer to him and notched your hips snuggly against his. To keep yourself as tightly pressed to him as possible. You wanted to steal all of his heat for your own, the cold making you bitter. Yet, his warmth was softening you up.
Dai’stbaen tensed behind you, arms locking around your torso. You acted the same, afraid you somehow did something wrong. A deep rumbled poured from his chest.
“Careful.” Short, sweet, but all the threatening. A warning. You shrunk down a little and held your breath. The alien kept his grip on you tight to stop you from moving an inch more. “Stop moving,” he grunted out. One of his hands reached for your jaw and tilted your head to the side. His bright eyes could be seen through the low light of the room.
“S-sorry.” You didn’t know if it was from the cold still nipping at you or the fear that gripped your heart. The longer you laid there, the more freezing your feet got. You tried to hold off since he warned you. But when you began to lose feeling, you pushed them against his shins.
His entire body jerked. His arms completely squishing you to his chest and left no space for even a hair. A growled pierced the air. Dai’stbaen began to move. His body leaned over you and snatched more blankets from your side of the bed. They were tossed over the two of you. You gratefully took them and positioned them more over your legs.
“Better?” His voice was deeper than normal. You hummed and nodded happily. You rubbed your feet against his warm shins and began to get feeling back in them. He grunted, legs twitching for a few times before stopping. “Oomans and their fragileness.” He rewrapped his arm back around you and kept you close as possible to him. You started to relax again.
“It’s not my fault it’s cold,” you pouted and shifted again. His abs tensed against your lower back. “I’m sorry I’m not some furnace of heat.” The dark red alien chuckled then hooked a leg over your hip.
“Oomans are fragile. Yautjas are strong.” You rolled your eyes and huffed. The Yautja chortled and flexed his muscles in his arms. “You are soft and plushy.” Your head jerked back and knocked against his throat. He made choking noise for a moment then growled. You wiggled and struggled against his hold as anger flared through you. That was the last thing you thought he would said to you. Such rudeness!
Dai’stbaen held onto you tightly and tried to rein you back in carefully. “Plushy?! Seriously, that’s what you decided to call me.” At notion of him calling you plushy, you grew agitated. He essential called you fat.
As a last resort, Dai’stbaen wrapped a hand firmly around your throat. All of your movements stopped. Hips stilling then noticing a bulge pressing against swell of your ass cheeks. “I said… to stop moving,” he snapped, hand twitching around your feeble throat. One wrong twitch could snap your neck like a twig. He wasn’t going to do that but your constant rubbing was clouding his thoughts.
One thing you didn’t expect was to learn aliens had the same anatomy as your own species. You swallowed hard. Idiotically enough, you swirled your hips back. The bulge twitched under your administrations. Dai’stbaen grunted and curled in over you. “You…” the Yautja trailed off, letting his claws bite into the soft flesh of your throat. He knew he could kill you, harm you so easily. It wouldn’t take much to do so.
Alone for so long, you blamed the need swelling in your chest on loneness. It’s been so long since you were held like this, by someone who at least seems concerned about your wellbeing. He didn’t want you to freeze and willingly let you steel his warmth as his own.
It’s been too long.
The smell of your arousal entered the air despite all the blankets that covered your form. He groaned and only rutted his crotch against the plush of your butt. He’s never felt something so soft before. He never knew ooman’s were so soft like this. Or else he would’ve been here long ago.
“Tell me… tell me you want this,” he demanded in a firm tone. The vibrations set across your skin with goosebumps following suit. You took a sharp breath in then keened, hips rocking back against the growing bulge. Dai’stbaen snarled and pinched the sides of your neck, restricting blood flow to your brain. “Words, ooman.”
“Yes!” you choked out and felt the affects of restricted blood flow. The Yautja released his hold the moment you consented to advances.
Sharp fangs scrapped against your neck and shoulder. “C’jit, you… we can’t take the blankets off,” he muttered into your flesh. That’s when you realized he was right. The cold was stronger than ever inside of the house. You wouldn’t survive long out from underneath the blankets.
You lifted a leg and tossed it over his hip, exposing yourself to him. Dai’stbaen’s free hand reached to the crotch of your pants, palming against you. A whiny pant left your chapped, dry lips. Your hips rutted against the palm, the friction barely scratching the surface of your lust. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist and tried to guide him into your shorts.
Before you had the chance, his other limb snatches your own wrist and pins both of your arms to your chest. “Needy little thing. Gonna hurt yourself doing c’jit like that,” he scolded and firmly presses his middle fingers into your clothed slit. All of your sounds echoed back at you in the bedroom. Only causing your face to build with heat that stung against the cold.
One thing he can’t stop is the movement of your hips. Each drag of your hips on his finger rubs against your clit. It’s a faded friction but a friction, nevertheless. You tucked your chin into your chest and tried to keep any noises to a minimal.
“Dai, I need this. I can’t take the teasing. I want you,” you begged the hulk of a beast behind you. His movements faltered for only a moment. “It’s been too long. I can’t take much more. I need you.”
The Yautja cursed to himself silently. Your begging was music to his ears. These missions have been hard on him. To finally have something to relieve his stress out on. Someone so small and fragile. Dai’stbaen didn’t want to break you. He was in debt to you twice due to his honor code. He vowed to take care of you in any means possible. This was a win-win situation for him too.
“I will,” he promised and let that hand down south slip down passed your waistband. “I will. Just need to prepare your tiny body for me. Gonna be a tight fit. I’ll make it fit. Treat you so good, little ooman.” His voice hovered next to your ear, making your arms break out in more goosebumps. You shuttered and leaned back against him, head thrown back with the little space offered.
Coarse finger pads slipped between your wet folds, skimming over your engorged clit. You felt nearly the same as a Yautja female with only one clit though. One point to focus on. Dai’stbaen could do that.
He soaked his fingers in your slick before back enough so the rough finger pad of his middle digit was rubbing against you. Your arms strained against his hold. Your first reaction was to cover your mouth to prevent all these pathetic little noises to escape.
“Sh-shit,” you cursed, thigh muscles clenching. Then, you let your lifted leg fall down to trap his hand in place. “Keep doing that. Keep touching me like that.” You felt so strung up after so long without someone else to do this with.
He felt relieve and pride for doing this right without knowing how to work a ooman’s body like this. He took this knowledge and swiped up a little more slick to coat your throbbing clit. Your inner thigh muscles clamped down, hips twitching in a wild manner. In such a way, neither of you knew if it was to jerk away from the overwhelming pleasure or demand more.
The feeling in the pit of your stomach tightened. Your eyes clenched closed. “Fuck, I-I’m gonna… come,” you gasped out and felt the semi-familiar throb in your empty cunt. Your muscles clenching around nothing, desperate for something to fill you.
Teeth pinched at the crook of your neck. Not piercing the skin but enough to send the idea of being dominated straight to your brain.
White overcame your vision. You felt like you were floating the middle of space, free from your body. A scream left your throat but you couldn’t hear, only feel the vibrations. The alien growled against your back and tightened his hold around you. Your entire form twitched when you came back to it. The warmth and strength of him kept you grounded. His tongue licked up a stripe up your neck to the back of your ear. The pleasure never ending, fingers forcing you to take and take.
“C’jit, sei-i. You like that? Yeah, you do. Needy thing coming over my fingers. Gonna fuck you.” When the ringing in your ears finally disappeared, his voice could be heard growling into your ear. Some of his words, you didn’t understand. You took it as if the orgasm still ran its course through your body.
That same hand left the warmth and wetness between your legs to grasp the waistband of your pants. You didn’t have time to ask him what he’s doing. Dai’stbaen rips the cloth straight off of you. A gasp left your lips. His touch left your skin to reach between the two of you. The Yautja messed with own pants until you felt something hot and heavy touch at your lower back. It was wet and soaked into your shirt.
Dai’stbaen pulled his hips back and lined the tip at the apex of your closed thighs. Your muscles clenched at the feeling of this big, thick shaft touching your exposed skin. The head pushed forward and slid between your thighs. The top of it rubbing against your wet folds, skimming over your clit. You moaned and leaned your head back, throat exposed to him.
By the feel of him, he was large. It matched his stature.
A slickness coated him and eased the thrusts between your legs. “Pauk, this feels good, little thing. Gonna use you. Gonna pauk-de use you like the needy ooman you are. Desperate for alien cock.”
Both of his hands go to grip your hips and helped steady you. With your own free now, you reached back behind your head to dig your nails into the back of his neck. The rubbery dreads touched at your skin. You even pulled at one to see his reaction.
He snarled deep from his chest and snapped his hips harshly against yours. If it wasn’t for his hands, you would’ve been nearly flung off the side of the bed. The skin stung from the thrust, heat blooming to life.
“By Paya’s name, do that again.” Instead of clawing at his neck, you tugged on another tress. His pace quickened. The wet slapping of skin against skin could be heard even under all the blankets. All of this movement making you sweat. Drops forming across your skin. You were thankful for the heat that raced through your veins.
Your other hand glide down from your midriff to right above the apex of your thighs. Carefully, you made a circle out of your hands and found where what felt like half of him poked out from your thighs was. The head was pointed and slid through the hole you made. Each thrust, you squeezed the head in your hand.
The growls and hisses that left his throat were music to your ears. It was beauty to reduce a man of his stature to a panting, whining mess just by using your thighs. You started to rock with his motions, meeting him at the halfway point. The slapping of skin only grew louder. Your skin stinging only added to the pool growing in your belly and between your legs.
There was plenty of slick oozing from your cunt to make his ruts smooth as silk. With the hand between your legs, you helped angle him upwards to add pressure to your clit. You tugged on his tresses again at the increased pleasure. “Oh fuck,” you cursed again, toes curling on his skins. “I-I can’t believe y-you’re thigh fucking me.”
His claws dented the skin on your hips. A couple of them piercing the flesh and drawing blood. The pain was easily forgotten about. “Don’t want to hurt you,” he panted back. His jaw clenched and dug his fangs deeper into the crook of your neck. “Too big. Have to compromise.”
Underneath the blankets, it was incredibly hot. You almost wanted to rip them off so you could ride him. You didn’t care if he was too big. Who would pass up an incredible opportunity to get bulldozed by an alien of his size.
His thrusts began to grow sloppy, his growls only increasing in volume. The knot in the pit of your stomach only tightened at the thought. You pulled again on the dread and kept pulling. “I don’t care of you’re too big. I need you inside. At least the tip, please. C-can’t get the blankets dirty,” you tried to reason with him. Even if it was only the tip. Anything to feel his girth stretch you wide. Anything to come on, to squeeze around.
Another growl tumbled from his throat. “Are y-you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.” Dai’stbaen had to make sure as his orgasm started to cloud his thoughts. You were ooman. Small, weak. He didn’t want to hurt or break you. He owed you his life, twice. But, he wouldn’t say he didn’t want to enter you, stretch your small cunt to fit him. Pauk, he really wanted to now.
“Yes, please!” you whined and started to guide the tip towards you soaked entrance. He slowed his thrusts to a stop and grasped the base of his cock to help. The pointed head speared between your folds. Dai’stbaen rutted forward twice, missing your pussy. Until the third time, he sunk home.
Only the head was able to fit snuggly inside of you. You shout his name. Your back arched off of his torso, hips angled down and pushed in an inch more of him.
The alien was panting, doing everything he can to stop from himself from fully sink down to the base. You squeezed him perfectly. The warmth of your pussy was like the best hunting grounds to him. He bit down harder on your neck, not regretting when he heard your whine.
It felt like he was stretching you to the limit. This was exactly what you needed. It’s been far too long since you had someone to do this with. He was hitting the right spot inside of you, making stars appear in your vision.
Your fingers instantly started to swirl around your throbbing nub. Careless mewls poured from your lips like a waterfall. You didn’t care if he heard them anymore.
Pleasure soaked in every corner of your body. You couldn’t even think at this point. Once he was inside and rubbing firmly against your g-spot, that’s when it was all over for you.
Dai’stbaen started to shallowly thrust, trying to be mindful of not to push too far in. Every rut, everything second passing, he was slowly losing his ability to think. He wanted nothing more to pin you down and fully thrust into you. You could take it. Pauk, he was trying so hard.
“Go-gonna come again!” you warned and kept your hips angle. You worked with him and returned to meeting his thrusts. Everyone, it felt like he was going just a centimeter deeper, reaching for your cervix. You were desperate to make that happen.
He felt the way your muscles throbbed hard around him, signaling your end. An end that will trigger him. The Yautja pulled his mouth back enough to rest his closed mandibles in the same spot. He didn’t want to take a chunk out of you if he could help it.
“Yeah? Pauk-di do it. Squeeze my cock needy thing. Needing a cock to come on.” It’s not like he was in a better headspace either. He tensed his jaw, eyes closing to focus solely on you. “Come on. Come all over my pauk-di cock!”
The vibrations his demand sent down your spine had you crying out. Your hips jerked harshly back and forced half of his cock inside of you. Dai’stbaen sputtered as his first instinct was to thrust all the way forward. The knot at the base of his cock barely popped in and formed just on the inside of your muscles. You cried out beautifully and arched against him. He held onto you tightly and curled around you.
His warm seed filled you, making a mess inside of you. You whined and panted; eyes closed as you weakly rested on the bed. Your energy was long lost. Your entire body was buzzing with dopamine.
Dai’stbaen held onto a thread of his sanity. He’s never felt such a vice grip around him, such warmth that welcomed him in. You’ve ruined him for anyone else. How else was he supposed to back to the mothership when he knows this? He knew his claws were hurting you but your lax body was a sign you didn’t even feel it.
The alien groaned into the crook of your neck and released his bruising grip on your hips. He lets one arm drape over your torso. The other stretches out on the bed.
Your walls kept pulsing around his sensitive knot and causing him to jerk. Each move made him move his hips closer, seemingly pushing the ball of flesh more into you.
When you finally settled, the Yautja followed suit. His were closed, basking in the aftermath of a universe rocking orgasm. Pauk, he might just take you with him. He’ll do anything to keep you at his side. Maybe… even have you carry his pups. C’jit, he shouldn’t think that while still inside of him.
Once the rush began to fade and letting you finally feel the situation you were in, you whimpered at the singing pain between you legs. Your hands weakly grasped at the sheets in front of you and attempted to pull yourself away from him. A snarling, threatening growl left his throat. Both arms encircling your torso and keeping you pressed to him. Trapped.
“Stay.” A dark tone to carry out the words.
Yet, with the pain evident between your legs, you couldn’t help but to move. Squirming only made it worse, seemingly pulling something too big lodged inside of you.
“Hurts,” you whined and accidently clenched around the shaft stuck deep inside of you. The Yautja groaned and dragged his claws against your side.
He used his mandibles to pinch the crook of your neck. Your body reacted by stilling under the instinct of his dominance. “I know. I’m sorry. Don’t move. It makes it worse.” Dai’stbaen let go of your neck to lick at the sweat dripping down your skin in a caring manner. “I have a knot. I didn’t mean to… knot you, little one. Just don’t move. It’ll go down on its own.”
Your eyes snapped open. The room was still dim; the only light coming from the snow outside. Did he just sat knot? Like… a dog? You shuttered but did as what you were told.
As time passed, the stinging lessened. Your body growing used to the stretch and accommodating it. Soon enough, it started to feel good, completely pressed against your g-spot like that. You stayed skill though and let the flesh decrease in size. Until it was small enough for it pop out of your abused hole. You clenched your thighs together to prevent any of it dripping down onto the bed and ruining your sheets.
He nuzzled against your shoulder and gave you mock kisses. One of his hands petted down your side. “Did so well, little ooman. Keep it inside like that,” he muttered into your skin. The alien moved around as if he searching for something. His hand grasped an item under the blankets and pushed it between your legs. It was your ripped off shorts. He used them to help trap his seed inside of you and clean the mess up a little.
“Hm, perfect.” His softening cock seemed to disappeared from between the two of your bodies. In you hazed state, you couldn’t care less about it and stayed on your side. The heat the two of you produce was enough to make you continuously sweat under the blankets. But, you refused to take anything off. Just encase the night grows colder.
Pain was evident in your sore body. You turned your head and pressed a chaste kiss against mandible. Dai’stbaen paused in shock before deeply purring and gathering you in his arms for the night. Nothing would or could get to you.
