Chapter 20 Jean
I thought the drugs would have started wearing off by now, that the urges would have started to weaken.
I was wrong.
If anything, they have only gotten worse.
I’m sitting alone in the pitch-black night, my back pressed against the longstrider’s shell. It’s kind of weird doing this with my body touching a massive bug, but I don’t dare wander away from it, for fear I may not be able to find my way back again.
I feel so vulnerable now. More vulnerable than I’ve ever felt in my life.
My bodysuit is unzipped and the top half is pushed down, leaving my breasts and belly exposed to the warm night air. My nipples are painfully stiff with arousal. My legs are open wide.
As for my hands, they are stuffed inside the crotch of the suit, frantically stroking my burning need.
Images dance across my mind’s eye. Images of Scythro, with his supple lips and fanged smile. Images of Ghorak, with his bulging muscles and curving horns. And one more—the imaginary male I conjured aboard the Scarlet Ship. The orange-skinned warrior. The Emperor, but not.
Please.
I cry out silently as hunger twists my core. A hunger for something mere images cannot provide. Something to fill the emptiness within me. Something to fuck away my pain.
I remember the jade phallus—the hated jade phallus.
I remember how good it felt inside me.
I picture it now, lying shattered across a desert of ash.
Tears leak between my closed eyelids. Tears of frustration.
Tears of pain. My body slides down the longstrider’s shell until I’m lying flat on my back on the dirty ground, legs spread as wide as they will go, sex throbbing with need.
I arch and writhe, mimicking the movements of a climax, hoping if I pretend hard enough, one may actually manifest.
It doesn’t work.
Please, I beg internally. Please, please, please…
I’m not quite sure who it is I’m begging. Maybe I’m begging my own treacherous body to do what I so desperately want it to do. Maybe I’m begging the universe to have mercy on this helpless little human in need.
Or maybe, just maybe, I’m begging for Scythro.
Begging him to break his promise. Begging him to come to me and do all those horrible things I never gave him permission to do. Begging him to bring Ghorak with him, so they can share me and use me and wring every last drop of pleasure from my burning flesh.
They’re so close. Right on the other side of the longstrider.
All I have to do is call their names.
Tears are pouring down my temples now. Wetness collects around the rim of the breathing mask covering my face. My body is drenched and dripping with perspiration. Ashes stick to my sweating skin. My breasts are heaving, my heart is pounding. I draw a ragged breath between my trembling lips…
Then I exhale a slow sigh of defeat. I know what I must do.
I know what I need. Who I need.
“Scythro!”
My throat makes a mess of his name, and what was meant to be a cry for help comes out as a mere whisper, low and raspy and smothered with desperation. I take another breath and prepare to try again, but a voice cuts me off. A whisper to match my own, spoken a few short feet above me.
“Here I am, Jean.”
My eyes snap open. My heart stops, then starts again, running twice as fast as before. I yank my fingers away from my center and scramble into a seated position, pressing myself back against the longstrider’s shell.
“Scythro?” I gasp.
It’s almost impossible to see him in all this darkness, but not quite. The clouds overhead have opened a little, allowing a small stream of starlight to leak through. Just enough for me to make out Scythro’s shape standing over me, lithe and long-limbed.
A second, larger shape stands beside him. That one has horns.
“Ghorak?”
“At your service,” a low voice rumbles.
There is a faint sound as he kneels beside me. Scythro does the same thing on the other side.
Instinctively, I thrust my hands out, trying to push them away, and my palms meet two hard walls of flesh in the darkness. Two male chests rippling with muscle. Scythro’s skin is as smooth as silk beneath my fingers. Ghorak’s is like well-broken-in leather. Both of them are as hard as living stone.
“Do not be afraid,” Scythro whispers. “We are here to help you.”
His voice is gentle, but it is clear from his tone that it’s not an offer. The aliens are going to help me, whether I want them to or not.
Both of them.
Scythro wraps his hands around my wrist and gently guides my fingers up to his mouth. They are, I realize, still wet with my arousal.
He puts them in his mouth and sucks them clean. His tongue feels warm and wet against my skin. A tingle races along my arm, and down into my deepest core.
I whimper.
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desire. I know Scythro is quick, but not that quick. He must have already been standing there when I called his name. “You promised you wouldn’t look.”
“I kept my promise.”
He guides my fingers higher, and I touch the fabric covering his eyes. Bandages, from the feel of it.
A blindfold.
For a moment, anger flares inside me, but it quickly fades into other, stronger feelings. Desire. Hunger. Need. I bring my fingers back down to his soft, supple mouth.
“Purr for me,” I beg. “Please purr.”
“With pleasure.”
That rolling, rumbling sensation is already present as he speaks the words, and it only gets stronger as he and Ghorak gently guide my body away from the longstrider and lay me down on my back.
I offer no resistance. I know how futile it would be.
“Let’s get her out of these clothes,” says Scythro.
“Good idea,” Ghorak agrees.
I’m pretty sure he isn’t wearing a blindfold. When I saw him last, he was passed out cold, but he’s obviously wide awake now. His fingers find the edge of my suit with ease, and they peel the damp fabric off my legs, leaving me naked.
I feel so exposed now. So vulnerable. Completely at the mercy of the two aliens kneeling over me.
I am theirs to do with as they please.
The aliens touch me in tandem, massaging my bared breasts with strong, inhuman hands. Scythro’s fingers are long and elegant, Ghorak’s rough and callused. I like them both, especially together.
“Great Universe,” Ghorak rumbles above me. “She’s so soft.”
“Indeed,” Scythro agrees. “We must be gentle with her.” He rolls my nipple between forefinger and thumb. “But not too gentle…”
He pinches me with just the right amount of pressure, and I gasp inside my mask.
“…Isn’t that right, little human?”
“Yes!” I breathe.
And then “Yes!” again and again as he bows his face to my chest and starts to suckle, drawing my nipple between soft lips, nibbling it with his fangs, flicking it with his tongue.
A moment later, Ghorak follows suit. He is less subtle about it, sucking half my breast into his mouth with a hungry animal sound. I shiver and moan in response.
After a few minutes, the aliens release my breasts and move lower, kissing and licking their way down my soft middle. They don’t race. They take their sweet time with it, savoring every inch of skin between my chest and my pelvis. By the time they reach their destination, I’m ready to ignite.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please…”
A thumb—Scythro’s—touches the hood of my clitoris and gently pushes it back, exposing the swollen bud beneath. A moment later, Ghorak touches me there, his fingers guided by Scythro’s other hand.
“Do you feel that?” Scythro asks.
“Yes!” Ghorak and I both answer in unison. His voice is low and curious. Mine is dripping with need. Scythro chuckles softly, still purring.
“That is one of her pleasure centers,” he explains. “She likes it when you rub her there. Go ahead, give it a try.”
Ghorak tries. I moan.
His fingers are thick and clumsy, nowhere near as skillful as Scythro’s expert touch, but I don’t care at all. My body loves the way he feels down there, so big and so rough.
“She has another spot,” Scythro purrs. “Inside.”
His finger slides below the place where Ghorak is touching, separating my wet lips and stroking the sensitive places between them.
His tip finds my entrance and slowly pushes inside, to the first knuckle, then the second, and then all the way.
My pussy flutters around him as he explores me.
Then he finds what he’s looking for, and an involuntary cry escapes me.
“There it is,” he says. “You like being touched there, don’t you?”
I don’t answer with words, but the shameful sounds that come warbling out of my throat are all the answer he needs.
“Where?” Ghorak asks, still rubbing my clit. “I want to feel it.”
With his other hand, Scythro takes hold of Ghorak’s finger and moves it ever so slightly. At the same time, Scythro’s own finger presses a little harder against my front wall.
“Under there,” Scythro says. “Inside.”
Ghorak grunts. “Let me try…”
Scythro’s finger withdraws, and I whine at the sudden deprivation, but a moment later Ghorak is there inside me, stretching me even wider than before.
Scythro guides him, pressing against me from the outside, showing him exactly where to touch.
I gasp loudly as Ghorak’s big fingertip brushes against my tender spot.
“There,” Scythro says. “Feel it? It is subtle.”
My spot may be subtle, but the sounds that come bursting from my lips are not. Ghorak gives a devious growl and curls his finger inside me, stroking my spot again and again, making me tremble with pleasure.
He doesn’t need help figuring out what to do next; he does it all on his own.
With his fingers still inside me, he lowers his rough-hewn face between my thighs and starts to lick my clitoris, working it over with warm, wet strokes of his tongue.
I groan with pleasure, lifting my pelvis higher and grinding my pussy against his mouth.
“Good,” Scythro purrs beside us. “Very good. Keep doing that.”
Not that Ghorak shows any intention of stopping. He’s eating my pussy like it’s the most delicious meal he’s ever tasted, and he’s fingering it at the same time, stroking my inner walls with just the right amount of pressure.
I send my hands down between my legs and grip his thick horns. It feels so dirty, so bestial, touching those inhuman pieces of his anatomy while he eats me, but that only sends my arousal spiraling to even greater heights.
I slide my hands down to the top of his scalp.
And pause.
He’s wearing something on his head. Some kind of leather straps. When I bring my hands to his face, my fingers touch a pair of smooth lenses.
“Ghorak,” I gasp. “Are you wearing… goggles?”
Scythro’s voice chuckles softly out of the darkness.
“I think you can take those off now,” he says, a warp of amusement in the satin of his voice. “It’s rude to pleasure a female while wearing night-vision goggles.”
Ghorak stops licking and raises his head to remove the apparatus.
“Night-vision?” I blurt.
My face flushes hot behind my breathing mask. A second later, the rest of my body follows suit. The aliens must have been watching me even longer than I realized. At least, one of them has.
I glare in the direction of Scythro’s voice, even though I can’t see him, and he can’t see me.
“You promised—”
“I promised to keep Ghorak occupied if he woke up, and I did exactly that.”
“Yeah,” I growl. “And I wonder who it was that woke him up?”
I can feel a scorch of irritation building inside me, but Ghorak erases it with a sweep of his tongue.
His face is between my legs again, and he’s lapping me even more deeply than before, bathing my pussy with his warm saliva.
Wet sounds issue from within me as his finger continues to stroke, and stroke, and stroke.
I guess we can discuss Scythro’s little betrayal in the morning. Tonight I can’t think straight enough to argue. All I can do is surrender to the perfect pleasure Ghorak is lavishing between my legs.
Almost perfect.
I need more.
And Scythro seems ready to provide it. He begins moving up my body again, kissing me as he comes, on my belly, my side, the tips of my breasts. He keeps purring the whole time. I can feel it rumbling through my veins, soothing my need even as it stokes it hotter.
At last, he kneels over me, cradling my gasping head in one hand.
“Is this better?” he asks, his voice so gentle, so smooth. “Is this what you need?”
“Yes,” I manage to say between breaths, “but…”
I don’t realize where my fingers are until they’ve already been there for several seconds. I am petting the laces at the front of Scythro’s pants—and the long, hard bulge straining beneath.
“I need this too,” I whisper.
My face is already hot beneath my breathing mask, but it burns even hotter as Scythro grants my wish.
I can barely see him in all this darkness, but I can feel him, solid and real.
I feel his abs, hard as stones beneath a layer of smooth skin.
I feel the deep channels slanting downward from his hips.
And when he finally pushes his pants down his thighs, I feel the rest of him too, long and stiff and throbbing.
I stroke him slowly, running a loose fist up and down the length of his erect shaft. I feel the blood pumping inside him, strong and hot. I slide my hand lower and cup his balls. They’re even bigger than I expected, smooth and heavy in my palm.
I need what’s inside them. I need it to be inside me. I need there to be nothing separating my body from his. Nothing.
“Scythro,” I whisper, my voice breaking in my throat. “Help me take off my mask.”