VANTOR #2
I felt an unfamiliar possessiveness surge through me. On our home world, we shared everything—resources, discoveries, even mates. But here, with Tammy, something primitive and territorial awakened in me. I wanted to step between her and my companions, to declare a claim I had no right making.
Then she exhaled softly, and everything changed.
Her scent—that “Omega” biological signature that was more potent than anything I’d encountered in all my many star cycles of living—bloomed in the air between us.
Sweet, intoxicating, like the electric flowering sea anemones that bloomed once a century in our deepest trenches.
I inhaled involuntarily, drawing it deep into my specialized olfactory chambers.
My companions did the same, their pupils dilating visibly even in their human forms. Cyro’s neck flushed more intensely, patches of iridescent pastels breaking through his disguise.
Kalith’s fingers twitched at his sides, a small tendril of deep green temporarily replacing his pinky finger before he regained control.
Our bodies responded immediately, releasing our own musk—what humans might call “Alpha” pheromones—into the air. The chemicals mixed with Tammy’s scent, creating a brand-new experience. It was heady and rich, making my blood rush hot and fast through my veins.
As if drawn by an invisible current, we all moved closer to her.
I stepped forward first, Cyro and Kalith flanking me, our movements unconsciously synchronized as they had been during countless missions.
Tammy’s eyes widened, darting between us as she took one step back, then another, until her shoulders met the weathered wall of the outbuilding.
“Guys?” Her voice came out huskier than usual. “What’s happening?”
I couldn’t answer. My throat had constricted, all moisture redirected to more urgent biological functions.
Beneath my human disguise, my reproductive tentacle throbbed painfully, demanding release.
The specialized appendage began to assert itself against my control, causing a visible change to my human form—my manhood swelling beyond what any Earth male could physically achieve.
Tammy’s gaze dropped briefly, her cheeks flushing a deep pink that made my skin ripple with answering color. She raised her hands, pressing her palms against my chest to maintain distance between us. The touch, though meant to keep me away, sent electricity arcing through my nervous system.
“Your biochemistry makes it clear you are not averse to our advances,” Cyro pointed out, his brain somehow still functioning despite the thick cloud of pheromones. His voice carried that slight echo quality it always did when he was struggling to maintain his disguise.
Tammy sucked in a breath, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that made it hard for me to focus on anything else. “Still,” she managed, “give a girl room to breathe.”
But I was a security specialist first. Protection was my primary directive. With tremendous effort, I stepped back, my muscles trembling with the strain of denying what every cell in my body demanded.
Cyro and Kalith reluctantly followed my lead, moving several feet away though their eyes never left her. We formed a loose semicircle, giving her the space she requested while remaining close enough that her scent continued to intoxicate us.
In my mind, forbidden images formed in rapid succession: my tentacles wrapping gently around her wrists, pinning them above her head.
My specialized touch appendages tracing the curve of her spine, counting each vertebra through her soft skin.
My reproductive organ—so different from the limited human equivalent—enveloping her in pleasure from multiple angles simultaneously.
My scent grew stronger with each thought, and I saw Tammy’s nostrils flare as she detected the change.
Her eyes dropped again to where my arousal strained against the confines of what Tammy had called “jeans.” The fabric was ill-equipped to contain a reproductive organ designed for both penetration and envelopment.
She bit her lower lip, the small action sending a jolt of electricity from my central nerve cluster to every extremity.
Slowly, deliberately, she raised her gaze to meet mine.
Many things passed between us—acknowledgment, curiosity, desire.
Then her eyes shifted to Cyro, then Kalith, exchanging the same silent communication with each of them.
Understanding dawned across her features, followed by something that might have been amusement dancing with wonder.
She knew. She understood what we were, what we wanted, what we could offer her.
Three beings devoted to her pleasure. Beings that could share her without jealousy… well, mostly without jealousy.
I glanced at my companions, seeing my own desire reflected in their eyes, but other things too—uncertainty about our mission, about our planned return. The same doubt that had begun to take root in my mind.
Our ship still required repairs. We had to gather the water samples that were our original goal, and then those had to be transported back to G.E.F.
’s research station. Our people awaited our findings on the viability of Earth’s water as a healing conduit.
Our many waters awaited the solution to healing.
But as I looked at the human woman—chin up, the pulse ticking visibly at her throat, holding her ground before three predators she had every reason to fear—I suddenly wanted a lifetime to stand between her and whatever had taught her to brace like that.
I found myself wondering, for the first time in my career as an explorer, if I wished to stop moving.
To stand still and plant roots that could not flourish on my home world.