Pax Multi Pt. 04

"Squeeze my antenna slightly harder, please." Bea's voice was soft. Lou blushed, then gripped her antenna with his fingers. She bit down on her lower lip, then smiled. "These are not fictitious like the Vulcans?"

"No!" Lou laughed. "They're detectable via radio astronomy!"

"What is radio astronomy?" Bea asked, her voice soft. "Touch my lips, please."

Lou's free hand slid from her hair. Gently, his fingertips rubbed her lips. Her tongue, feathery and soft and slightly dry, flicked against his fingertip. She murmured, very softly. "I enjoy this a great deal..."

Lou blushed then murmured. "R-Radio astronomy is...we build machines that can observe the sky and we can detect a great deal of radio. And other electromagnetic bands! Can't you do that?"

"Mm, never thought too..." She said, quietly. "I just observe stars, so I could learn how far away they were, which I needed for planning -- without that, I wouldn't know how to get to new stars to settle them." She paused. "Touch my throat, please."

Lou's fingers slid down, caressing the underside of her chin -- and he expected to fine a heart beat. Instead, it was something closer to a tiny ticking sensation, faster and more feathery. She drew a short, sharp gasp, her wings fluttering. "So...there were millions of years where I could have heard other voices? And I never even imagined it..." She said, her voice soft. "I...I do not feel sad. I am happy about those years. I...did make nice things, Lou. Even if you can't see it yet. I live in the clouds of gas giants. I compacted asteroids together until they became round, then seeded them with atmosphere and with life. I..." She paused. "I want to show you it all, some day."

Lou smiled. "It'll be easy. I just need a lighthugger and a quick dip in a cryocrypt and we can head right there."

"But then you'd be gone..." She bit her lip, slightly, craning her head backwards, looking up at him.

Lou grinned. "You can pass ten million years without being bored, but you can't handle being without me for five years?" His voice was playful, while his finger slid along her throat, down to the ruffled fringe of her dress. Beatrice smiled.

"Yes," she said, simply. "It would be one hundred and fifty seven million, six hundred eighty thousand eternities alone." She paused. "Touch my lips again." Lou, his fingers pausing a few inches away from her neck, drew away. Bea had enough time to make a soft little whining noise, her eyes open, before Lou leaned down, craning his back almost in half to kiss her upside down. Her upper arms cradled the back of his head, while her lower hands reached up to find his hands, interlacing midnight black fingers with his pale ones.

"That's not touching..." she whispered as he drew back. Lou grinned.

"Sure it is," he said, quietly. "Kissing is touching."

Lou grinned -- then blinked as he heard a scuttling behind him. He turned and saw a trio of hellgaunts, gliding along the ground with their alarming, liquid speed. Lou laughed, then yelped as they forced their bodies underneath his, then lifted him up onto their backs. Beatrice flew into the air, her wings buzzing as she darted down, then landed upon his lap again, cuddling against him. Lou, feeling decidedly unstable, balanced as he was on the backs of three sleek killing machines, clung to Beatrice and laughed out his question; "Where, ah, are we going?"

"Bedroom," Beatrice said, grinning at him. "Being your wife, I have a wifely duty. GF said so, and it has been long enough. I am going to act upon it. I am going to do...the oral sex!" She said -- and she was so excited that the hellgaunts spoke as well, hissing out in a sibilant chorus: The oral sex.

"Ah..." Lou's face went bright red. "R-Right, you know, uh, there is...no rush..." He said, but he spoke without confidence. For, within Lou, there were two parts of him. The first that was deeply uncertain about the intersection of sex, sexuality, gender, romance, affection and Beatrice, an alien that could be deeply terrifying...and the other that was chanting, in a deep, primal tone, in the back of his mind: Fuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her! And Lou was easily twice as mortified by that base part of him than he was by Beatrice's earnest excitement to serve as a wife. He was supposed to be better than that.

The hellgaunts came to his parents country house and he realized that they were about to drive straight up the wall, or maybe through it. So, quickly he said: "Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

The hellgaunts slowed and Bea looked nervous. "What?"

"It is my...I...that is..." Lou coughed, loudly, his cheeks flushing. "My lady, may I carry you inside?"

Bae's antennas twitched spasmodically, then curled up, then flicked out again, the Beatrice version of a sharp, hard blush. "I...I..." She gulped. "Y-Yes. I am your lady. Me. Beatrice. Your lady. Yes." She paused. "Your father is King Louis Benoit. Your mother is a Queen. Am I a Queen? I...no, you-"

Lou chuckled, then slid off the hellgaunt. He picked her up and she actually almost bounced up and out of his arms -- she was so light. So fragile feeling. "My lady, you are my everything," he murmured, not wanting to delve into the complex, Byzantine nature of Neopolitan inheritance. He knew, without needing to think twice about it, that she was the Countess of Venus, from a direct neopolitan perspective. No, no, wait, she was the Countess of Venus and the Sovereign Queen of Bernard's Star, Tau Ceti and Epsilon Indi, Empress of the Bugs, and Protector of...whatever her state church could be called. Protector of Atheist Determinism, he supposed. But all of that didn't matter, right now.

The only thing that mattered was in his arms.

Bea's antennas twitched and she cooed and curled in on herself, her face mashing against his chest. Her nose flared, breathing in his scent. "Lou..." He held her to his chest and walked inside of the house -- taking the servitor's entrance, then darting up the servitor's stairs. They were narrow and quiet and specifically built so that the nobility could sneak about their homes without running into other nobles, as servitors could simply hover in the interstitial spaces of a home.

Lou had expected needing to cross the amount of floor that made up the country manor would give him time to think through what he would do, to make his hands stop shaking, to make his heart stop pounding. Instead, he blinked, and he was there, in the bedroom, the door closing behind him. He laid Beatrice down upon the bed, and she looked so delicate and alien and beautiful -- a sleek, mothgirl, clad in the gorgeous gown that he had fabricated for her earlier today. His heart skipped and he stood at the end of the bed, breathing slowly.

This is my wife... he thought.

Bea gulped, then wriggled. "I...I find it very hard to...to...move..." She whispered. "M-My whole...I...I am very nervous...but I am not nervous enough to tell you to stop. Lou. Please." She gulped. "I wish to be with you, tonight. As your wife."

Lou smiled, slowly.

All his nerves melted away.

He crawled onto the bed, then, aggressive. Fast. His hands slid along silken sheets and then brushed past moth-slender wings, and then he was above her, his mouth on her lips. Her tongue seemed taken aback as his thrust into her lips, pressing against hers. Her upper hands laid limply to either side of her head, her lower arms stretched out. Her fingers gripped the bed, tightening more and more as Lou kissed her and kissed her and kissed her -- and he felt worries about his base wants, his duties, all of it were gone.

There was only Beatrice Benoit.

His wife.

His Bea.

He broke the kiss, panting, and found his hands upon her collar. There was a complex network of ties and lace and straps and buttons, which took a servitor to fully take on and of. Lou's mind weighed, for a single heart beat, the pros and cons of fumbling in the half darkness of the room with those bits of frippery. Weighed...and tossed it aside with a tiny, eager growl. Muscles, trained from youth to swing a sword without tiring, strained and silk parted with an almost painfully erotic rrrrrip noise. Beatrice drew in a sharp gasp, her antennas fully extending in shock as her cute, smallish breasts bounced free, her bright blue nipples hard as diamonds.

Lou fastened his mouth around one, his other hand gripping the tattered V that was her increasingly tattered dress. He tugged, and her arms wriggled, and she squirmed and twisted, her wings buzzing and battering against the bed beneath her as he managed to get his hand down to her belly button before she gripped his head, pushing him back, whispering. "Lou, I cannot...I...my clothing, I-" And Lou went from sucking upon her nipple to tearing. He ripped and tossed and within a flash of tattered cloth, she was left wearing...nothing at all. Her upper arms folded over her chest, her eyes wide. "I...I feel..." she whispered. "N-Naked..." Her voice came out as a soft, almost awed whisper. "I-I've never felt naked before."

Lou smiled, slowly. "You're beautiful."

"I...am?" she gulped. "B-But...I still don't know if-"

"You are beautiful, Beatrice. My wife..." His tongue slid along his lips slowly.

Bea's head bobbed. Her antennas curled, shyly. "I wish to see you naked, my husband..." She gulped. "I wish to see you very badly. Very badly."

Lou bit down on his lower lip -- torn once more. Slow? Fast? But then he realized that if he waited a single moment longer than he needed, that whatever Bea wanted wouldn't matter: He would be dead. And so, he grabbed onto his top and tore it off with a fierce snarling sound. His buttons popped and pinged, skittering along the hardwood parts of the floor before wedging into the carpeting. Bea's mouth opened into a perfect O of shock, her antennas unfolding with a click against the headboard as her lower hands reached tentatively up, touching his belly, then sliding along his skin. But Lou wasn't naked yet. His hands undid the belt -- tugged, threw, then shoved his pants down and then Bea's hands dropped away, her eyes widening even further as his cock sprang into the air.

His maleness was so very, very hard.

And...

He...

Had...almost forgotten how...

"It's...l-large..." Bea gulped, her eyes wide. Her antennas slowly curled up and she shrunk back into the bed. "V-Very large..." She whispered, her lower left hand reaching up to touch him -- then drawing back, and Lou felt...the most absurd flare of absolute machismo. Louis Benoit XII...well hung enough to intimidate a hive mind. He grinned, then grabbed her wrist with his own hand -- the contact of flesh on flesh seeming quite loud in the silence of the room. Bea froze -- and then Lou dragged her hand up and pressed her smooth, dark hand against his shaft. Instinctively, her fingers curled around him -- and her fingertips did not touch her palm. Bea's antennas twitched faintly and she breathed out a soft: "Very large...very...very...large..."

Lou nodded.

"I...shall proceed to apply my...what...I was told- EE!" She squeaked, her eyes widening as Lou gripped her antenna -- then pushed her backwards. Her hand gripped his dick, but then he slipped free as he reached down and picked her up, his palms cupping her perky, smooth rump. Her neck tilted and her chin bumped against her own breasts, her wings beating and fluttering against his sides.

Lou looked down at her. Hungry. Fierce. Her eyes were wide as he murmured. "You comfortable?"

"T-This form is quite sturdy, I am...quite comfortable." Then, the words tumbled out, a proud braggadocio to cover how nervous she clearly felt: ""A-Ah, my clitoris has more nerve endings than every form within ten kilometers c-" before he buried his face between her thighs and slid his tongue into her sex, tasting her sharp vanilla taste -- his eyes closing as his nose bumped against the bright blue bead of the clitty she was so clearly proud of. His tongue curled up, feeling her sex tightening around him as her hands scrabbled, her lower arms reaching up to squeeze onto the headboard, her lower arms grabbing onto the edges of the mattress as her legs kicked out, her body curling up a bit as he tongued at her, following nothing but his instincts and the sounds of her pleasure.

"Oh Lou, oh my husband, my lovely husband, oh yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! This feeling...I don't...even know...I...ah! You're...I'm...I can't...I can't feel my roots!" She closed her eyes, panting.

Lou slid his mouth back just a bit, then closed his lips around her clit. He sucked.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" Beatrice flung her head back, her spine arching, her wings beating against his sides as her juices gushed into his mouth. They glowed. And they tasted deliciously of vanilla as his mouth closed around her sex, drinking from her as her juices dripped down his chin and pattered onto his throbbing cock, which bumped against the down fur of her shoulders. "Lou! Lou! I'm losing my mind! Ah, yes! Yes! I...yes! YES!" She trembled as he cupped her entire body with one hand, effortlessly holding her lightness up -- freeing his hand to slide his middle finger into her sex, which made the most delicious, romantic sound he could imagine as she welcomed his finger into her tightness. "Louuuu!" She whined and trembled, a thin spurt of glowing girlcum escaping his finger, soaking along his palm.

Lou drew his mouth back but kept his finger buried inside of her sex, cradling her up. His finger crooked inside of her and she let out a soft, little whine. "L-Lou...I...I..." Her eyes glimmered -- not with tears, but with such intense emotion that it nearly hurt his soul to see them. "I...can't...take any more...I..." She gasped. "Stop. Don't stop. Keep going. No more. I can't..." She bit her lip, then turned her head, her antennas twitching. "More more more more more!"

Lou chuckled, then leaned forward. He kissed her clit -- and drew a gasp from her, her entire body rocking, her hands gripping the bed so hard that the structure of it creaked. She cried out her bliss -- and with it, words. "I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!" She trembled as her juices gushed along his palm and Lou drank his fill, laughing -- laughing. His eyes closed and he nearly choked on her, drawing back as he laughed, his finger sliding from her as he gently laid her onto her back, slipping his palm free. She gasped heavily, her eyes unfocused as she mumbled. "I can't feel my roots..." She breathed. "Or the seedlings or my clouders...or the talons..."

Lou leaned down, placing his elbows to either side of her head, keeping his weight entirely on his arms, his legs, his core muscles tightening as he murmured. "You love me?"

"Yes..." She murmured, her eyes half closed. "I love you..."

Lou, his cock throbbing against her sex, leaned in close. He kissed her neck. She hissed. He bit her. She mewed. He kissed her jaw. She shivered, then whispered. "S-So much...so much so much...ah..." She breathed. Lou kissed to the curved hole of her ear. His tongue traced the edge -- and she whined. "Nnnh! Too much. Ah. I..." She trembled. "I can't feel my roots..."

Lou whispered. "I love you too, my Beatrice." He tilted his head and kissed her lips. Then, softly. "What are your roots?"

"Mmmhh, rootbased bioforms...I..." She opened her eyes, then whispered. "O-Oops..."

"What?" Lou asked.

Her antennas flicked, then curled slowly in on themselves. "I...m-may have released pollen clouds. On each of my rootbased bioforms. On each planet. T-They...it's normally...I-I don't normally do it all at once! It's such a mess!" She put her upper hands over her face, squirming. "I...I made such a mess! Oh! I'm sorry, it'll take months to tidy up!"

Lou...had the smuggest grin plastered on his face. A smug grin shared by a select breed of men across history. They had never been as rare as some more patriarchal popular media liked to portray -- it was the most pernicious part of sexist cultures, it tended to wound every gender along the spectrum indiscriminately. But there was some truth to the stereotype, enough that the boys who had escaped it had ever right to be very...very smug.

"I eat pussy good," Lou murmured, as millions of twenty year olds across history had, basking in the glow of their lover.

"You...is that the oral sex!?" She asked, her eyes wide. "GF was a liar! He said that it was merely good -- not the single most extremely most good thing in...I...do not have enough superlative words in Canasian to describe how most...most it was!" She trembled. "I..." She blinked. "I cannot move...I-I believe my body is too worn out from pleasure to...to..." She trailed off.

Lou had reared back. He was gripping his cock, feeling the heft of himself, marveling at how much difference a relatively small bit of flesh and tissue could make him feel at this moment. His tongue swept along his lips, tasting his wife's pleasure upon him -- reminding him of just what he was capable. More confidence. Dizzying amounts. His grin grew wicked .

"A-Are...you going to..." Bea gulped. "Penetrate me?" The words whispered from her breath and burned in Lou's ears.

"I...think..." Lou murmured. "I am going to do something that no Neopolitan prince should, my wife. I am...going...to fuck you."

"O-Oh..." Bea shivered from her toes to her antennas. "Ohh...yes. Yes. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes!"

Lou had, in his life, only felt three imperatives. They had been sensations so intense, so shockingly powerful, that they had leaped past his conscious mind and rushed straight to raw, physical action. The first had been the first and only assassination attempt of his entire life -- a bomb drone, smuggled into his manor house by what had later been discovered to be AnCom criminals. He had seen it and seen the peril to himself and his mother and sprang to act. The second two had been significantly less heroic: Dislocating a kneecap while sparring, and breaking his tibia...while sparring.

Pain. Fear. Both could spark immediate action. Or, in the case of his tibia and kneecap, inaction.

But neither of those was more than a candle to the starflame, to the atomic spark, of his wife begging him to fuck her. His hands grabbed her ankles, lifted her legs, and pinned her ankles above her head, bending her almost completely in half, pressing her into the bed as his cock slid against the hot, glowing eagerness of her cunt. His cocktip opened her folds and she leaned her head up, planting her mouth against his -- her tongue thrusting into his mouth as her upper hands cupped the back of his neck, her lower hands reaching down. One squeezed his balls. The other guided his cock into her as Lou thrust and impaled his wife upon his manhood -- and felt the visceral, bone deep thrill, the raw blazing excitement, of filling her. Claiming her.

Mine.

His mouth broke on the kiss as he looked down at her, a thin line of spittle connecting her tongue tip to his, her eyes half closed as she panted and whimpered, her whole body trembling. "I...feel...so...full!" She panted, her eyes half closed. "N-Next body...even tighter..." She grinned, shyly. "More nerves. More flex. More arms." She murmured, nodding, her hands gliding along his body -- caressing him with wonder, with love. A single finger traced a circle on his shoulder blades. She teased along his ear. She gripped his balls. She held his elbow. She touched him everywhere and he felt as if he could drown in her eyes.

"Spider," Lou growled, without thinking.

"Yes..." she breathed. "My husband...I want you to...continue to move yourself inside of me. Rhythmically."

Lou nodded, then started to rock his hips. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his orgasm from rushing through him at lightning speed -- but the silky, slippery slickness of her cunt, the tightness of her sex, all of it was so much. Her fingers. Her lips as she leaned her head up, kissing his forehead. Nipping at him. Her breath was soft, her voice an eager whisper. "Faster...harder...more more more more!" She nipped at his ear and Lou snarled, then began to fuck her into the bed. He felt as if he had been unleashed, as if some kind of feral beast was in his skin, and his whole universe had focused upon a single, blazing hot point. His hands gripped her curved thighs and her dainty ankles hooked behind his back as he pinned her into the bed, his firm balls slapping against her ass, the meaty plap plap plap sound of the impact making him so very glad he'd asked for big, big balls.