Close Encounters 06: of the 9th Kind

"He's right outside right now." That sounds like a threat, Val. "I mean, not for any particular reason. Just cause... he can go and be where he pleases. You know? We all can, on this ship. You included. You're not a prisoner or anything." Which doesn't remind me of the fact that I myself don't really know how to get off this ship at all. I cough.

Silence. An unreadable look out of her inversely-colored eyes. Gosh, this is simply going great.

"So anyway. Your name?" I ask again.

She hesitates, then shakes her head.

"Uhh. Does this mean... Don't you have a name?"

A more vigorous shake, then she stops, thinks for a moment, and nods instead.

"Right. Okay." I'm confused.

What now?

I'm having a short flashback to meeting Bane for the first time. Everything was easier because he spoke English, but there was still plenty of cultural miscommunication.

"Do you... Would you want me to give you a name? Something I could... we all could call you?"

She blinks once, twice. Her tail twitches on the floor and I have no way of guessing what it means. Good gods, I feel like I have so much to learn about this person, and nowhere to start.

"Look, I don't want to call you 'hey' and 'you' to your face all the time, and think of you as 'the female'. That'd be kinda rude. If you want, I can give you a couple of alternatives and you pick the one that sounds best to you, 'kay?"

She opens her mouth and barks "kay!" at me. Loudly. It's not exactly a word, more like the sound of a feral animal. I actually flinch a bit because I didn't expect it, and because the girl's got lungs.

Long story short, her name is Kay, and yes, I realize that this practically makes her a Pokémon.

Which... makes me her trainer, I guess?

Good thing I have virtually nothing else on my schedule, and some experience on my CV when it comes to alien taming.

Gotta teach 'em all.

***

So. Drahta eat and drink basically the same things as Dryth. They also have zero table manners, but when they're not starving it's possible to be in the same room with them while they're eating, so long as you don't make eye contact. That was a learning curve, believe you me.

Also, they poop little cubes like a wombat. Guess how I found out about that. The jury's still out on how and where or if, indeed, they pee at all.

Still. I have single-handedly raised the universal knowledge about Drahta by about 300% just through basic observation, and that deserves a commendation, I think.

Kay refuses to leave her room.

Yes, it's her room now - I had to find myself a goddamn tree to brood under. Like a Charlotte Bronte character.

Not that I have a lot of time to brood. Between trying to get to know and study my new BFF and sexually satisfying my two overbearing-yet-irresistible alien lovers, I barely have time to catch my damn breath.

I mean, I'm not complaining (much). If anything, I'm glad Bane and Rune seem to have accepted that Kay is here, and have found other things to do with their time than trying to pack her into a small box (...namely me). They're two Rottweilers and she's the new kitten in the house - fierce and feisty in her own right (and definitely a potential threat to the African Pygmy mouse that's me) but not exactly on par with two beasts that outweigh her a couple dozen times each.

As I hang over Rune's shoulder, idly playing with the feathery end of his tail as I'm being carried off into the trees (or wherever) (again), I consider my current life and its general rhythms.

Wake up, fucking, breakfast, talking to Kay, extended fucking, a nap, dinner, talking to Kay, fucking again, sleep, repeat.

Every fuck session that follows me hanging out with Kay seems to get longer and longer, too. And if I were a suspicious person, I'd even say that every session gets a bit more demanding, too.

Seriously, if I didn't know any better, I would say that Bane and Rune are jealous of Kay and miffed at how much time I spend with her. At least one of them is always loitering, lurking or otherwise hanging around the door of Kay's room when I'm in there with her, and the second I set foot back out into the corridor I'm immediately snatched up and slung across someone's shoulder, caveman style.

Jealousy? Maybe. But I don't know for sure. Maybe they're trying to separate me from her for entirely different reasons? Perhaps they're worried that her chip will slip from her gill one of these days and she'll go berserk. Or perhaps there's something about Drahta that freaks Dryth out in general.

Nobody talks to me on this damn ship, that's my entire problem.

"You need a new translator chip, asap," I tell Rune's back and tail, which I'm holding and speaking into like a microphone.

I sigh. I am seriously a little dejected as of late. Bane has always been taciturn, Kay can't or won't verbalize even as I sit and talk her wriggly feelers off, and Rune can't understand my prompts any more, which makes him talk a lot less, even though I could still understand him if he talked.

I miss it. I would greatly appreciate some verbal conversation. I sigh again, slightly mournfully.

"Va'l-ree," Rune says in response and bite-kisses my flank, which makes me giggle and nibble his tail tip in turn. I have recently found out that, much like his mangled ear, the tail is unusually sensitive and thus something of an erogenous zone.

I mean, if he doesn't want me to nibble on it, he shouldn't wave it in my face, should he now?

A hot flare of arousal lances through Rune and I can feel it in the form of a wave of goosebumps across my own skin. Seconds later, my back is pressed up high against a corridor wall and I'm bodily curled around Rune's head, like the galaxy's most unwieldy face hugger. My thighs are around his ears, his shoulders spreading me wide as he burrows his face against my core. His right middle- and forefinger fill my mouth and play with my tongue and my gag reflex, reducing my verbal abilities to garbled grunts. His left hand is clamped around my left tit, squeezing and grabbing and pinching quite roughly. The tip of his tail is nudging my back door, sending thrills and shivers up and down my spine.

Yeah, we very rarely make it all the way to the trees these days. Not for the first round anyways.

I don't stand a damn chance against the onslaught of domineering sensations. He seals his lips around my clit and suckles me relentlessly, and within minutes, I roar/squeak out my orgasm -the sound wet and stifled since my mouth is still filled with his fingers - and smear his face with my cum. The muscles of my thighs tremble like crazy, clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing around his head, mirroring my (currently spike-less) cunt doing the same to his devastating tongue.

As he lets me down and sets me on my feet gently, a movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention. Ahh, we have an audience. I smile but don't comment. It was about time she set foot out of her cozy little hideout.

I decide to use the opportunity for some practical demonstration of how things work on this ship and quickly put Rune with his back against the wall - so that his fat, pulsing erection is obvious to all onlookers. And then I put myself onto my knees before him and swallow said erection without much preamble, right down to the root.

Back on Earth, I was never a fan of deep-throating. I blame the human penis, model 1.0. It just doesn't slide in nicely. Unlike Dryth cock.

I swear I can't get that stuff in deep enough.

Rune watches my every move with his characteristic alien stillness, but his eyes darken and lighten, darken and lighten, and his cock twitches, pulses, throbs like crazy in my mouth and throat. His lubricating juices spill over onto my chin, my face. I swallow as I huff in air through my nostrils.

"N'jaalfah-durr, yl'ree," Rune murmurs, and my translator chip informs me that it means 'good bad teacher'. Mouth full and eyes watering, I still flash Rune a quick, wicked look as I tighten my throat to massage his tip.

Dirty talk must be commended, always.

I grip the very base of his dick with my left hand, circling it as much as I can manage, and squeeze rhythmically. The skin of his organ is so slick and smooth, so fucking touchable, and feeling the powerful movement within sends thrills through my palm.

"Hlanthyrl, hlanthyrl-tva," I hear Rune mutter. More. Excess.

Excess he demands, excess he shall have.

My right hand glides down to my cunt to lubricate, then glides up on his thigh, around to the back, to his tight butt, and into the crack hidden by his tail.

I observe his reactions as my middle finger finds his rear opening, and I glide my fingertip around the pucker.

His eyes stay focused on mine, their coloring very light, and then they close as my fingers sinks home slowly. His lips form a word but no sound comes out.

The round muscle, like all other muscles of his body, is strong and powerful. It resists me for a minute, but slowly parts as I gently pulse and massage my way past it with my lubed-up fingertip.

Rune's body is hot and twitchy on the inside, with ridges and wrinkles clothed in slippery velvet tissues. Once I'm an inch deep, his hole starts sucking me in in the most perverted, delicious kind of way. It is so fucking arousing and I hum in appreciation, sliding my finger out and back in, deeper.

His cock swells and then goes absolutely rigid inside my esophagus, and I gag and cough, pulling back momentarily, gasping breaths and sniffing my own tear fluids back up my nose - you know, like a lady.

Rune's hand reaches down and touches the side of my face ever so gently, then spears into my hair and roughly pulls me back onto his bulging cock, forcing it down my throat again.

I deviously grin to myself through watering eyes and with my face and chin dripping with saliva and lube and allow him to fuck my skull. In retaliation, I shove my finger into him in the same rhythm, and do the come-hither motion just in case Dryth have a prostate, too. On top of that, I think of the dirtiest fucking things I can - involving cocks and pussies and mouths, tongues, asses, assholes, tails, ears, and copious amounts of warm, thick, slippery fluids - and try to send these mental pictures out somehow.

I'm not sure he receives them but my own pussy absolutely gets them all. Fuuuck me, I wish I could spare a hand. I rock my pelvis back and forth and hump the air, and I feel the drops spilling from my slit onto the floor.

Rune, silent and stoic master of the universe, is moaning and yelling inside of his superior alien head. I can practically hear it in my own. Before long, his thighs are trembling too, just like mine did just a couple of minutes prior.

He cums for me just as I nudge a second finger into his tender hole.

I take half of his load down my throat, the other half inside my mouth, sucking the tip of his cock like a lollipop, spearing my tongue into the slit, and not letting up until he pulls my hair again - off of him, this time around.

"And what have we learned today?" I ask. I'm teary-eyed, sweat-beaded, my lips and palate are throbbing and my voice is hoarse, and I'm smiling proudly up at him. No matter which galaxy, no matter which alien race, there is always pleasure to be had in literally and successfully blowing a guy's mind.

Rune leans down and plants a kiss on me that feels almost like a wrung-out, mighty sigh, and I chuckle into his mouth. My left hand is still wrapped around his dick. It's expanding and going spongy in my palm. I can't help but touch it some more because he's so damn touchable and Rune lets me, even though I know it's so sensitive now that it makes his muscles twitch. He even wraps his hand around mine and makes me squeeze him a little harder.

Maybe he is a masochist, after all.

We end up on the floor right there, his back against the wall, me in his lap, cuddling. His big hand cups my ass.

I really never thought of my aliens as voluntary, post-orgasmic cuddlers. Or maybe they just don't get the opportunity to be cuddly very often? After all, I usually pass out in exhausted bliss after our fuckfests and need a nap or five.

Maybe they cuddle together. Just the two of them. That thought makes me smile.

Rune must have noticed the movement of my facial muscles - or maybe he just got a glimpse of my brain theater production - because he reaches down to my chin and lifts it so I look him in the eye.

"Teechir," he says in accented English, the upward inflection for a question merely implied. If Dryth were prone to body language, he might have tilted his head and lifted his eyebrows (or the ridges he has where eyebrows would be).

"You make me happy," I answer him, knowing that he can't really understand my words but hoping that he can glean the meaning through my eyes.

"Meapp'ee", he repeats, apparently agreeing.

"Happy," I nod and kiss his fingers, then his lips - it takes a bit of effort to stretch so far up but he luckily accommodates me and meets me halfway, languidly sliding his tongue into my mouth and making me purr - then settle against his chest with a contented sigh. "So happy."

He allows me to snuggle into him, then starts awkwardly petting my hair - he's mirroring what I'm doing to his feathery tail tip - and announces gravely, "so happy. Yes gud", and I snort because it's goddamn adorable.

Just before I allow myself to drift off into a doze, I catch sight of a milky-white-surrounded-by-brown eye peeking around a corner, right at my own current eye level. I blink and she's gone.

Note to self: have The Talk with the female.

You see, when a woman loves two alien barbarians very, very much...

***

Kay is usually a model student. In a deer-in-headlights kind of way.

When I talk to (at?) her, her eyes are on my face, but it's hard to tell whether there's anything much happening behind them. She nods or shakes her head when asked a direct question - and does both when the question is more than one-dimensional, much to my frustration. Turns out there's a fine difference between "yes, but actually no" and "no, but actually yes".

If I just talk, she sits and looks at me (without blinking too much, which thankfully doesn't remind me of Hannibal Lecter whatsoever. Because the eyes are the wrong color, you see, and she doesn't resemble Anthony Hopkins at all, except for the hair color maybe?), but it's really hard to tell whether she really comprehends anything I'm saying because she doesn't do... uh, reactions. Like, at all. Like, even less than Bane.

Surprisingly, she's even worse with actions. She never initiates. Never.

Which is why I'm slightly taken aback when I enter her lair (formerly my lair) and she pounces on me.

Well, I say 'slightly taken aback', but I mean 'I'd have jumped five feet out of my panties if I had worn any and couldn't get out the horror movie-worthy shriek because I happened to breathe out when I entered'.

Her slight weight is still a lot if it comes at you without any prior warning. I consequently tumble to the ground with her clinging to me like a monkey. The floor knocks the breath out of me. Oouf, that's gonna leave a bruise.

"What in the—Aarck-ack" is all I can get out, wheezing, before her fingers are suddenly on and then in my mouth, and I have a flashback to my own personal obligatory traumatic childhood dentist experience.

(You know the one. We all have it. Weeks and weeks of siblings and friends telling you horror stories of their visits to the dentist, ramping up your fears. The toothpaste-and-disinfectant smell of the reception area. The ominous noises you hear, muffled through the wall, as you wait. The creaky hard-plastic chair-hammock you sink into, knowing you'll never get out of it again without other people's help, or physical effort and minor injuries. The bright light hovering above you, like a UFO that's about to abduct you (the similarity is actually quite striking, let me tell you). The masked strangers poking your gums with the slender silver hook-needle and looking down your nostrils. The hiss-gurgle of the sucking tube that steals your saliva for unknown purposes. It's traumatic.)

My current alien toothy-ologist is lying atop of me and poring through my mouth with four fingers and two, then three, noodly feelers. I splutter and cough and try to crane my head away. "What th--- What -blagh! The h-e-double-hockey—Kay. KAY! Stop it!"

Literally being bitten is only slightly more alarming than this... whatever this is.

She responds to my order - or maybe it's my palm that has found its way into her face, pushing her away with gentle but absolute insistence. Once her upper body is far enough away from my mouth, her cool, slimy extra appendages slide out of my oral cavity.

... aaand that's my new least favorite sentence in the world.

"What the fork are you doing?"

(Don't mind me. In my brain, she's still young and untouched, and I'm literally the only goddamn person that she's getting vocabulary from. I don't want to be a bad fucking influence, okay?)

She sits back, hunkering down on my shins, and I have a sudden fear that she'll go for the next-best body cavity in a second. I clench my thighs together nice and tight, just in case.

"Kay," I snap once I'm finished spitting to work the slightly goopy taste out of my mouth, demanding her attention (and diverting it from any other orifice in her vicinity). "What was that? Huh? Were you attacking me? Did you mean to harm me?"

She shakes her head so vigorously, her feelers slap her forehead and her colorless hair goes flying.

"Were you searching for something in my mouth?"

She hesitates, then nods. Then grunts. Not daintily. It sounds like something that might come from a mountain lion. A big one.

Suddenly my heart is thumping, and not only because of the sneak attack. Attempted communication, however crude and unsuccessful, is very appreciated.

"Were you searching for food? Are you hungry?"

Two shakes. Another grunt. She reaches for my face again with her hand, but I bat it away with one of mine.

"Hey. If you wanna touch, you gotta ask nicely first. Especially for the private zones, and my face is definitely a private zone."

She sits and blinks, and then grunts again and goes for it again.

"Hey! No! No, nope, nnno!"

I somehow manage to extract my body out from under her and put myself onto my feet. In a one-on-one situation, I don't have many advantages on my darling Kaykay, but I am an inch and a half taller, so I need to use that for all its worth. Summoning memories of my mother and how to look, be and act imposingly badass while being 5'2, I knit my eyebrows, jut my chin forward and pull my shoulders down.

"Young lady," I channeling the Greene matriarch, just without all the expletives my mom would've peppered into the speech, "you will explain yourself and your behavior right this instant, or else!"

Kay blinks at me - somewhat chastised, I think - and grunts again.

Either there really is a mournful note in that grunt, or I finally cracked.

(Or maybe both.)

I sigh.

"What are you searching for in my mouth, Kay? Can you show me?"

She glare-frowns - I think it's not a meaningful facial expression, that's just her face - and then she sticks her tongue out at me.

Much like a Dryth tongue, it's a long, very mobile muscle adorned with bumps and ridges and frills. It's a shade darker than my own and, I'd say, somewhat longer in proportion to her slightly smaller face.

Gotta say, it's kind of impressive.

"Uhh... you want to see my... my tongue?"

She doesn't even bother to nod, she just waits and watches with typical alien-y intensity.