Close Encounters 05: of the 8th Kind

I need us all to somehow be friendly, and the only way to do that is to establish contact that goes beyond touch-wait-look and the occasional frigid snuggle.

And really, it's not like my boys have a better plan. Or if they do, they aren't willing to share it with me. Their own fault.

"Well, then. That's what we do, then. Or what I do, anyway." I look from one Dryth to the other again. "I need you to promise me you'll behave. Let me handle this. Alright?"

Again I can basically see the mental communication flowing between them as they eye me unblinkingly, full of reluctance and refusal. They really don't want me near the A'Draht.

Fair enough, but I don't want them near her, either. Last time they were near her, she attempted to fuck and kill one of them, and almost succeeded, too. Last time I was near her, she fell asleep on me. Awesomely Strong Barbaric Alien Overlords of the Universe: 0, milquetoast Valerie from Planet Maximum Suckage: 1!

"Alright?" I prompt again when I receive no confirmation.

Without a warning, Bane fluidly gets up from his flat rock where he was seated and comes towards me. Very slowly and on utterly silent feet. Like a freaking tiger stalking its tiny, tender prey.

It's probably just me but I could swear the temperature in the room suddenly rises and the humidity goes through the roof. I stand and watch him come at me, rapt and speechless. Yes, speechless. Me. Still. After months of being with them, they've lost exactly none of their appeal. If anything, it's getting worse. Hooboy, am I starting to salivate?

I actually brace myself for some physical contact, the Bane kind of physical contact. Ruthless. Owning. Contact that speaks.

But at the last moment, when I can almost feel the heat of his skin against mine -- and my skin is absolutely yearning for it, too -- he walks right past me instead. His luminous eyes stay fixed on mine with that intensity that makes the butterflies that just hatched in my stomach start having freaky butterfly sex with each other.

Holy hell, I don't need any Princess Leia gift to know that he's pissed at me, and that he wants to bend me to his will right now... or just generally bend me (over). Me contradicting him equals fighting him, and -- well, he told me several times that he likes it when they fight, didn't he?

"Teacher," Rune speaks up just as Bane passes me by, and my head snaps round. When did Rune close the distance between us? He was way over there a second ago and now he's only an arm's length away.

"Where is the A'Draht, Teacher?" he asks, and there's a... coaxing in my head, like my thoughts and feelings are being petted by a warm, expert hand. It feels like I always imagined a tantric massage might feel, the type you only see on the "for women" category on HornPub, with the ridiculously wasteful amounts of warm oil which they spend fifteen minutes gently kneading your boobs with until everything is soft and supple and goosebumpsy-- except that I suddenly feel like that on the inside of my mind.

Oooh. Ooohhh, not fair.

I take a deep breath and shake that gentle hand off, then try to scowl. "I told you, I'm not gonna tell you that. It's for your safety as well as hers." Another deep breath. "I am not going to tell you that," I repeat because I suddenly need to remind myself of that fact.

"Where is it, Ree?" Bane's voice startles me because it comes from my other side.

The scowl comes much more easily this time. I cross my arms over my chest (and my puckered nipples).

"She's not an it," I snarl, "and, again, I'm not going to tell you. Let me deal with her. I can do it."

"Teacher," Rune says again... and boy, am I glad that human vocal cords aren't designed for purring. The soft whisper of emotions coming from Rune now tells me that he's getting horny -- that his horniness is laced with just a little, delicious bit of aggression -- and that he's got an itch in the tip of his tongue that-

"No," I scold him, but my voice goes up at the end like I'm asking a question. My head is starting to spin a little, but I don't think it is Rune's doing. I think it's just myself being me, reacting. "Don't 'Teacher' me right now."

I mean, I get it. My Dryth very much don't want me near the A'Draht. For good reasons -- she's strong and ferocious and if she could hold Bane at bay, that means she can easily rip me in half (or quarters, or teensy tiny pieces of Valerie confetti. Valeretti.).

And really, it's almost sweet, in that Dryth way. They want to protect and shelter me from harm. They may know truly very little about the female that's hiding in the storage closet, but they still know categorically more than me because they have encountered other Drahta before, or they have heard about them in first-hand accounts anyway, and despite their different outward appearances, they are genetically linked, so they are much more adequate in-

"No, dammit!" I snap and glare at Rune, then actually walk up to him and physically shove him away. (Or I try to. He doesn't move an inch. Ooh God, his chest is so fucking touchable.) "You stop that!"

"You put yourself in danger, Va'l-ree," Bane growls from behind me -- the same words he used in our frustrating conversation before, the one that made me so angry then.

They make me angry again this time, too. Like I think he perfectly well knew they would.

I whirl around to him, claws out, such as they are. "And I told you that that's my decision to make! I am not your child! You don't get to wrap me in cotton!"

Bane growls in response and gets in my face, crowding me, forcing me onto my back foot.

I am very aware what's happening, and that I might be in a bit of danger here. Don't get me wrong -- even through the soft haze in my head that's created somehow by Rune's brain, I know, on a deep, mammalian level that they're being scary. Any sane person would probably back away slowly instead of leaning in and getting in their faces.

Thing is, sanity and I have had a long-distance relationship these past three years. It was a mutual decision, really, and I think we've both moved on.

Being an insane person, I turn around toward Rune because all those whispers about lust and violence are flames that draw me like a suicidal moth, and I need to take care of that poor tongue of his -- in that I really need to bite it right now.

So I do. I launch myself bodily at his mouth and groan long and loudly into it when we collide, and then moan wordlessly when he grabs and angles my head like he wants to in order to reach deep into my mouth with that tongue, that tongue, oh my, oh God.

It's like he's reaching into my mouth and all the way through and between my legs with his tongue. I'm so bloody horny that that mental image isn't even disturbing.

There's a growly roar, and then a sharp zing of pain lances through me. Teeth. I feel teeth nipping at the side of my neck that's now doubly exposed by my new haircut and due to the tilt of my head. The pressure of the sharp, white tips increases until there's pain, then lessens, then sweetens as Bane sucks on my skin before he uses his teeth again, giving me pain again.

I must be truly insane because I want him to draw blood. I feel that that would be according to his nature, and I can't think of anything more core-meltingly sexy right now than a male doing what his primitive instincts tell him to do to me. This male, specifically. Bane unchained would be absolutely spectacular, I'm sure.

Then again, him holding back for me is also sexy as fuck. All that leashed power and need, molding itself to my comparatively fragile body -- it's enough to make my head and ovaries spin.

God, my brain is already a porridge made of oxytocin and endorphins and incoherent swearwords, and we've only just begun. I'm already dripping and the big spike inside of me feels like it's swelling when it's really me swelling, pulsing and throbbing around it.

"Where is the A'Draht, Ree?" Bane demands, his voice a rolling, rasping growl right below my ear, its sound driving straight into my abdomen and doing wicked things there.

With some effort, I un-fuse my mouth from Rune's, turn around and catch Bane's lips with mine, nipping and pulling at them with my teeth by the way of an answer. Not gonna tell. Never gonna tell.

I have no idea exactly how I'm going to keep my secret in the long run -- this ship is large for three (four) people but it's also not exactly the Queen Mary II. Or Bane and Rune could just follow me to that storage room. It's not like I'm super-stealthy. In fact, it's a bit of a mystery how they didn't immediately conclude where I may have gone and encountered the A'Draht after my hissy fit. There's really only one place I go when I want to sulk and I'm fairly sure they know about it.

Right now though, I have more short-term problems to solve. Like, I only have one mouth but two lovers to kiss. And both of those lovers are irritated with me right now, and they keep talking about some other chick whose whereabouts they want to find out when I, Valerie Magdalena Greene, am right fucking here and literally dripping.

Unless somebody has mercy on me and starts touching my clit right this minute, I'm going to start screaming the goddamned ship down.

Right after I'm done violently snogging them, that is.

Hours (or maybe seconds) later, I'm starting to actually hurt for a touch. My pussy is pulsing hot and aching for more friction, my entire lower body tense and taut like a drum, waiting, needing to be struck. I have tried to press my thighs together, but someone else's thigh was always between them, and I have tried to reach down and touch myself, but someone keeps grabbing my wrists with their hands or their tail and redirecting them.

Forget screaming, I'm going to break out in tears soon.

I make a last-ditch attempt to hump that thigh that's lodged between mine, but again, I can't reach, I can't reach, "Oh, my fucking god, please!"

"Where is the A'Draht, my teacher?" Bane asks calmly.

"Fuck you!" How dare he think about anything else but me right now!?I want to scratch his eyes out! "Fuck me!" Right! Now! Please!

A zing of sensation, then pain, then the sound of a slap that in itself creates more sensation up and down my neck. The skin of my left butt cheek flares up like it's been licked by fire. Then the right. And the left again. Slap! Slap! Slap!

"Oh, shit!" I can't help it; I moan and grunt like a sow in heat. My entire body is shuddering with helpless delight and this new sort of pain that doesn't make me want to wilt and cower like ordinary pain at all. In fact, this one makes me want to come. He needs to keep going and I will, I might, oh Jesus, I could come like this, I just need-

"More!" I gasp, and Bane growls, apparently frustrated that this new method isn't getting him the result he was aiming for at all, and indulges me. Harder. A lot harder. I rock forward and against Rune's solid, unyielding body, and cry out. My ass stings fiercely and I know that he's leaving handprints and red swells on my skin. Red badges of honor.

My swollen pussy is weeping down the insides of my thighs in fat droplets.

Rune clasps me tight as Bane spanks my ass and the crease where my thighs meet my butt cheeks. Like the monster my crown prince secretly is, he hungrily swallows my yowls of pleasurable pain, his fingers burrowed into my hair and yanking on it, and holds me upright when my knees buckle, so that Bane can continue. I hear him purring somewhat viciously when I lean forward and bite his pec with all my might just to give all that painful lust an outlet.

Inside of my head, I can hear his arousal swell with each slap Bane delivers, with each of my grunts and cries. Still, he keeps my thighs spread apart and prevents my hands from wandering and relieving the mounting pressure between my legs.

"Where is the A'Draht, Valerie?!" Bane growls between slaps, even using my full first name which... God, Freud's ghost must be laughing himself silly. Despite all my protestations of not being anyone's child, hearing that full name triggers a vision of him being my Daddy and spanking and scolding me like this regularly according to his parental duty, and I shudder with how much it turns me on.

"I won't fucking tell you!" is what I want to say. I am not articulate enough anymore at this point, but I think they recognize rejection when they see it, maybe in the set of my shoulders or in the glare of my watery eyes. I will not back down. I realize my loyalty to that complete stranger is probably ridiculous and the sisterhood I'm feeling with her is one hundred percent projection, but this is about the principle of the thing. More than the principle, even.

I cannot be equal to my Dryth in many ways, I know that.

But in some, I can. And I will. Dammit all to hell, I will.

Before I know what's happening, I'm suddenly on my back -- thankfully not on my ass, which feels like raw, tender twin balloons of taut, pulsating skin, swollen to twice their original size -- and there's a hot, wet, angry mouth French-kissing my pussy. And a long, clever finger nudging my asshole. A pair of hands maneuvering my head, tipping my chin all the way back and forcing my jaw open. A weeping, swelling cock slithering past my lips, down and back along the length of my tongue, all the way down into my throat.

Hands, arms and tails pin my flailing limbs and writhing body to the ground, squeeze and press and pet me in all the right places. All of them, at once.

In my brain I'm standing on the edge of the abyss, half-dangling already, held only by my refusal to give in to the aliens fucking, sucking, and groping me. Or at least that's what Rune's voice whispers into my inside ear.

I know that if I tell them what they want to know, I will come -- harder, longer, more magnificently than ever before. The muscles in my core, my abdominal walls, my thighs and lower back are already trembling madly with it, my lungs are heaving whenever Rune allows me a breath (which is almost never), drawing in the air I'm going to need for my cry of ecstasy and the rush of blood to the head, my heart is ready to gallop right out of my chest, already flinging itself against my sternum like it wants out, out! Out! Out!

But I will not tell them. I will not let myself be patronized. Not by the males I love. Especially not by them.

I want them to trust me, I demand they trust me, and I will stand (or, in this case, lie) my fucking ground and if it's the last goddamn thing I do.

Grunting and growling, they pleasure my body into submission, and beyond it. I want to scream with relief when Bane's tongue lets up on my clit, but then there's a shock of new and exciting pain. I writhe in searing, sexy agony, trying and failing to get away from the slaps against my spread cunt. I can feel my juices spray against my inner thighs with each spank, feel how my outer labia immediately puff up from the smacks. Smack! Smack! Smack! My hips twitch erratically, trying and failing to evade.

Rune wraps his fingers around my throat, doubtlessly feeling himself moving inside my esophagus, and holds me still, trapping my yells even more inside of me than they already are.

Bane holds me open. Rune holds me closed. Both just hold me.

It hurts a bit. It's scary as hell because I can't hardly breathe, and my blood is boiling in my veins, thick with adrenaline. My marked cheek throbs and stings from sweat and from the stretch. Tears and snot are pouring out of my face. I am shaking like a leaf. My skull is pounding like a death metal bass drum.

I could die happy this very moment, no lie.

Even in my state, I do my darndest to give back. I lick and suck as vigorously as I can even as I spit and sputter and screw my eyes shut against the fluids that are dripping into them, and against the feeling of saliva, lube and pre-cum running into my nostrils. I clamp my legs around Bane's shoulders, my thighs around his head as much as I can, fighting a pointless fight against him and his abuse because I know he fucking craves it.

And I let my brain overflow with words and feelings of pure lust and fierce love and adoration and utter rapture, and I know, somehow, that both of them get it, whether they have the Dryth gift or not, whether the word 'love' is in their vocabulary or not.

In this strange, painfully aroused, physically unsatisfied but mentally sated, perfect moment, I am one with them. They know I love them, and they -- after their own, alien fashion -- love me back. Stubbornly. Torturously. The Dryth way.

I cry fat, unsightly tears and it's only partially because Rune is ramming his cock into my throat and Bane's frilly tongue lashes my clit in the best, worst way again and yet I won't be able to have my climax like this. Mostly, I'm just so deliriously fucking happy, I have the choice of either literally bursting into a bright shower of sparks, or crying like a little bitch from sheer euphoria. So, tears it is.

In order to hold on to this for as long as I possibly can, I vow solemnly to myself, I will try anything, say anything, do anything, for love.

"Tell us where the A'Draht is."

... but I won't do that.

***

I am bruised and tender in the best of ways when I bob back onto the surface of consciousness like an apple in a tub. The shade sail gently sways above me. I look up at it a longish time as my eyelids decide whether they want to fall shut again or not. After a while, they decide for open.

Looking around, I see next to me, on my right, a shallow bowl made out of one of the coconut-like plants that grow in the forest. There's some water in it. On my left, there's Rune, sitting cross-legged and still like a stone gargoyle. He's wearing a loincloth for once. His sunset eyes gaze down at me evenly.

I reach out, brushing his knee with my knuckles (which are bruised. I've forgotten how that happened) just for the sake of touching him. He wordlessly helps me sit up and I take the drink that's waiting for me to my right, sipping slowly.

As I contemplate my sore throat, my sore palate and my sore everything else, I realize that Rune is in my head again. Not like a scary vengeful deity, like when he ordered me not to leave the ship, and also not front-and-center like during his vain attempts to coax the truth out of me. Rather, he's like...like a dark bird sitting on a branch on a tree that's growing in the back of my brain, observing everything form a polite distance. An innocuous passenger, a faint signal, the feeling of a small length of red string knotted around my left pinky toe.

I wonder whether that's going to be permanent now in his vicinity, and why that is.

As if in answer, he nods and tilts his head slightly, and for the first time since I woke up after Tulun D'tel, I can see that the piercings that used to line his ears are gone. Only little puncture marks remain.

He once said that they give him constant pain which helps rein his gift in. Apparently, all bets are off now.

Maybe removing them was a necessity because he wouldn't have managed to get out of Tulun D'tel with all three of us in tow without his full potential, or maybe he couldn't have kept me alive otherwise. Maybe the pain had finally gotten unbearable after his one ear was injured in the fight with the Dryth who entered this ship.

Maybe he was just over constantly torturing himself and trusted that the full potential of his powers wouldn't be a problem for either of his companions on this journey. (I like this explanation best, personally.)