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. (Yes, we did have a talk about it and she now has a bedpan.) 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 471% just through basic observation, and that deserves a commendation, I think.

It's what I tell myself when I visit her, anyway, and see her hiding in my former spot. My ex-shelf.

Kay refuses to leave her room entirely – hence the wombat cube incident. Yes, it’s her room and her shelf now. I had to find myself a goddamn tree to brood under. The outrage.

Not that I have a lot of time to brood, mind you. 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 really shouldn't complain. Bane and Rune seem to have accepted Kay's presence, and that they won't get to pack her into a tiny little box. 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; I much prefer an armistice, even an unresolved one, to the potential carnage.

Thing is, I need to distract my two attack dogs and continuously give them something to do. And there's nothing much (and definitely nothing better) to do on this spaceship than... me.

It's a terrible, terrible hardship, of course!

As I dangle over Rune’s shoulder like I'm a tuna fish he just caught with his bare hands and idly play with the feathery end of his tail, being carried off into the trees (or wherever) (again), I consider my current life and its general rhythms.

Waking 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, as well.

Outrageously naïve minds might hypothesize that Bane and Rune are jealous of Kay and miffed at how much time I spend with her. Exhibit A: At least one of them is always loitering, lurking, or otherwise lying in wait around the door of Kay’s room when I’m in there with her. The second I set foot back out into the corridor, I’m immediately snatched up and slung across their shoulder, caveman style.

Jealous? Maybe. But I have no way of knowing for sure. Maybe they’re trying to separate me from her for entirely different reasons? Perhaps they’re worried that her translator chip will slip 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.

Rune doesn't answer. Of course, he doesn't. He can't understand me.

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 anymore, which makes him talk a lot less even though I could still understand him if he did talk.

I miss it. I miss his voice. I would greatly appreciate some verbal conversation. I want someone to answer a couple of questions. 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 holding me up as he burrows his face against my core. He's reaching up with one hand and stuffs his right middle- and forefinger into my mouth to 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, anyway.)

I don’t stand a damn chance against the onslaught of domineering sensations. Rune 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 liberally 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 gently lets me down and sets me on my feet, 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 (and smelly) 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 those 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, and 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’jaa lfah-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. Too much. Excess.

Too much excess he demands, too much excess he shall have.

I reach my right hand down to my cunt to lubricate, then glide it up on his thigh, around to the back, to his tight butt, and into the crack that's mostly hidden by his tail.

I observe his reactions as my middle finger finds his rear opening, and I slide my fingertip round and round on his pucker.
 
His eyes stay focused on mine, their coloring very light, and then they close as my finger sinks home slowly. His lips form a word but no sound comes out.

The round muscle, like all other muscles of his sensational body, is powerful and responsive. It resists me for a moment but then slowly parts as I gently pulse and massage my way past it and into him 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. So fucking arousing. I hum in appreciation, sliding my finger out and back into my lover's body, deeper, more vigorously.

Rune's 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 his fingers 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 I allow him to fuck my skull like the barbarian he is. 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, humping the air, and I feel the drops spilling from my swollen 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 popsicle, 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 him, smiling proudly up at him. I’m teary-eyed, sweat-beaded, my lips and palate are throbbing, my voice is hoarse - and I feel like I deserve a medal for every single heavy breath he's currently drawing.

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 all of his muscles twitch. Still, he 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.

Perhaps 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, bless him) 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, just in case.

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), 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.

(And when I say ‘slightly taken aback’, 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 when it comes at you without any prior warning. I lose my balance and consequently tumble to the ground with her clinging to me like a monkey. The floor slaps me hard in the coccyx and 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. Dentists scared the crap out of me when I was young.)

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 by her 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 do you think you're doing?!” (Don’t mind me. In my mind, she’s still young and unspoiled, and I’m literally the only one she’s getting vocabulary from. I'm trying to not 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 working 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 diminutive 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'm channeling the Greene matriarch, just without all the expletives my mom would’ve peppered into the lecture. “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 and deflate some, then rather desperately grasp for a question. I need to keep this bout of communicative-ness going somehow.

“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.

Okay, I guess?

I feel silly sticking out my tongue at her, like I’m five years old again and my terrible older cousin Randy had just called me a whiny baby because I didn’t want him to rip off my Barbie’s heads.

(Because they never fit on the neck again properly, you know?)

(Good god, Randy was such a douche.)

Anyway. Where were we? Ah, yes, the intergalactic tongue-off.

“Saoh. Whah naow?” I ask, trying not to slobber down my chin, all ladylike.

Kay comes closer – slowly, to her credit, which counts as ‘asking permission’ in my book – and observes. Very, very closely. In fact, she’s leaning in close enough for me to lick her nose, which I contemplate doing for a minute. Just to see what she’d do.

She has a really cute nose. For an alien anyway. Stubby, with slitted nostrils, and little freckles over the bridge of it.

One of her feelers slithers out – also slowly – and slides along the side of my tongue once as if collecting a little bit of saliva for a sample. That’s… uh, something? All I know is that it’s ticklish as hell.

In all my years as an alien abductee, none of the old-school alien abduction/sex experiment scenarios have ever taken place. Maybe now is finally the time?

I’m about to ask (and then make fun of the situation, because d’uh) when Kay surges forward and touches my tongue with hers.

I rear back a bit, surprised by the sudden literally in-your-face closeness, but there’s a wall right behind me which I bump into, and then there’s an alien female plastered solidly against me and my tongue is getting massaged by hers and it feels… it feels really nice. She also has those frills and her tongue is long and mobile enough to wind around mine and-

Then I blink and crane my head away again. We, uh, detach.

“Hooold up!” I manage, laying my hands on her shoulders. Not to push her away, exactly, just… Just in case. “Pop the breaks for a sec.”

Up close, I can see her vertical pupils dilate and constrict as her eyes flit between my own eyes and my mouth. So familiar.

“Is this you recreating something you’ve seen me do with the boys?” I ask, remembering the rather hot make-out session with Rune she had witnessed. “You trying to find out what kissing is about, huh?”

She grins. It’s a bit shark-y and I’m quite certain it doesn’t convey the same meaning as a human grin would. There’s an audible hiss behind her teeth. Like she’s imitating the word ‘kissing’.

Her hands come up to rest gently on top of my shoulders, and suddenly all that's missing is a mirror ball, Berlin's 'Take My Breath Away', and a gentle rocking motion and we'd be slow-dancing at the prom.

Oh. OH.

The penny is beginning to drop.

Am I’m being… courted? Is this a wooing, Drahta-style?

I vaguely remember Bane telling me about how Drahta-Dryth-relations go down on their planet. I believe he told me there were ambushes involved.

Much like this one, really.

“Oh. Uh. Alright. Alright, then, uhm.” Why is it suddenly a bit warm in here? “Maybe we’ll start at the beginning? Review the whole, uh, process a bit?” I suggest. My voice seems half an octave higher all of a sudden.

She stares at my mouth and nibbles the corner of her lower lip with one of her fangs.

Yeah, someone definitely cranked up the heating on this barge. Could be maybe open a window? Phew.

“So, uh, kissing. Well. Kissing is an exclusively human thing, so far as I can tell. There’s, uh, usually a bit of a warm-up.” I take my hands off her narrow shoulders and open my arms out to my sides. “We, uh, we normally like to hug a bit first. You know, to get in da mood.”

She keeps on staring at my mouth.

It’s been a while since I’ve been looked at this hungrily – which is saying something since Rune and Bane both tend to look at me like starving Labradors will look at your barbecue practically every time they lay eyes on me. (Let me tell you, it does wonders for the ego.)

I clear my throat.

“Any... uh. Anyway. Hugging goes like this.” I pull her slimmer body to mine. Her skin is as cool as I remember and she is still all angles. Alien metabolisms are entirely unfair. Her feelers slide into the hair around my left ear and I try to do like an owl and swivel my head 360° to avoid the tickles. (Very little success there.)

“You’ll need to hug me back for it to work,” I tell her and grab her wrists, then deposit her hands on my upper back. “Like so.”

We stand there for a couple of minutes, plastered together front-to-front. Pretty much like the first time we met in this room, except vertically, right on that shelf over there. I look down and catch sight of the bite wound she left in my arm, now a somewhat messy dark-red double-crescent dent in my skin. Like all my other various wounds and woes that I acquired since my alien abduction, the healing seems lightning-fast. I blame the absence of bacteria that could interfere, and the water. There’s something in the water, I’m sure.

Still, my dinged-up arm is a reminder that there’s a lot of work left to do.

“I really, really wish you could talk to me,” I lament, more to myself than her. I’m not blaming her. My working theory is that Drahta, much like apes, don’t have the voice box necessary for complex vocalization, hence the grunting and barking. I suspect, however, that the feelers and the touching are media of inter-Drahta communication… which doesn’t help me one bit because I’m a damn Earth girl. I figure I don’t have the necessary PCI board slots for that sort of thing.

“Us humans are sort of big on verbal consent and… mutual… understanding,” I trail off as her hands begin to roam up and down (and down and down) my back. (Whoa mama, she’s not shy!) I scritch her delicate neck in response and earn myself one of her purrs. Her tentacles comb and burrow through my hair in the most alien way possible. I shiver.

“Kissing is somewhat of a big deal, you know,” my sermon continues, even though my voice is a bit huskier than before. “At, uh. At least for me. I never kissed my female friends at home, like, not even for practice. Some girls do that, but I always thought I should keep it for the… the Special Someone.”

Kay leans back from our hug a little to look me in the eye, then focuses on my mouth again. Her hands slide upwards and off my butt, to my sides.

Her feelers dig deeper into my hair, gently scratching my scalp that’s prickling with goosebumps by now.

Yes. Val. Kay. Special, I hear in my head, and then she leans forward, tilts her chin up slightly, and our mouths meet.  

Her lips. They are cool and slim and clearly new to kissing. They just press against mine.

But they work on me. By the gods, they do.

My hands slowly come up to mirror her tentacles, diving into her spidersilk hair, cupping her head to gently pull and press her closer, and to touch her more. I inhale her scent deep into my nose – something entirely alien that registers in my brain as copper and magnolias, fresh blood on blooming flowers – and carefully nibble, suckle, and sip her lips.

It takes her less than a minute to feel the rhythm, and to take over. It’s like we’re dancing, and she’s one of those unfairly gifted, graceful people that already look great on their first try and then just keep getting better and better.

I softly moan her name into her mouth. Her lips lift into a grin.

On top of that, her tongue is even more mobile than that of her male counterparts, and she literally wraps hers around mine like a clinging vine and pumps it. Jerks it off with undulating motions. A hand job inside my mouth, except not. A tongue job.

Sweet Mother Mary. Here’s a brand-new fetish.

Then I imagine what a tongue like that might do to other bits of my anatomy, and I get a little weak-kneed. I pull back, panting, looking at her now slightly puffy mouth and at her eyes. Her pupils are as round as coins and I’ve made a bit of a mess of her hair.

She is lovely.

“You are really good at this,” I whisper-pant, and then smile as she shark-grins again, all wicked and obviously pleased with herself.

Yes. Val. Good. Kay. Special, my head repeats.

I freeze. Blink. Lean back, and then notice how we are linked via her feelers. They are attached to my cranium like little suckerfish to the side of a shark.

Or like the electrodes of a crude EEG. Strategically placed.

I reach up and gently feel my way around them. There are two in the spot where my translator chip is, one at the very crown of my head, one on each side at the hind base of my skull, two behind and below my ears, and two at my temples. They’re not exactly painful, but they do press with insistence against my tender skin.

“Okay, so, this is freaking me out just a little,” I mumble, then search her eyes again. The pupils are a little less round now as her arousal has waned, but her gaze is no less intent. Intense. “Are you… talking to me through my brain, Kay?”

Silence.

I mean, it could be? Given that their offspring also have telepathic powers, and that the feelers had to have some sort of function, I thought that maybe… And Rune has managed to… Then again, I am not an A’Draht. It’s a weird little miracle that my human brain is developed enough to receive Radio Rune, and mostly I blame Rune’s apparently outsized princely powers for that. And whatever he did to me during my, uhm, near-death phase.

We stand and wait for... something. Minutes pass.

Eventually, I sigh, frustrated. “Maybe my brain has to be in some sort of aroused state in order to-“

Yes. Val.

“What the fuck!” My mouth drops open. I heard that 'Yes Val' very clearly, and it was unmistakably not my thought.

The fuck! goes my brain, acting as a mouthpiece for someone else, the non-sound echoing inside my head.

I guess it says something about my life that this doesn’t send me running. On the contrary. I laugh somewhat maniacally and enthusiastically hug the alien woman to me while jumping up and down because this is just a little overwhelming. “Oh, my god! You can talk to me, Kay! This is--- wow!”

The fuck! Yes! Val! Kay! she replies, equally enthused, even though her face is utterly impassive.

I sigh, still beaming like an idiot. So much for not teaching her bad words. Way to go, Val. “There are so many things I want to--“ I begin, only to be pushed up against the wall by a determined-looking alien that dives for my mouth.

Kiss, my brain echoes. Hl’nthyrl-t’kiss. One kiss. Two kiss. Hl’nthyrl-t’kiss.

I’m guessing that means she wants some more kisses. Upon consideration, that’s not a terrible idea.

Note to self: Teach her more English.

She wraps her tongue around mine again.

Yes, sure. But first, some French.

***

Alright, so, my life is officially an astro-socio-linguistic sex experiment that has been unsupervised for some time and spiraled out of control just a tad.

I live on a spaceship in a polyamorous, multiracial relationship with my two alien boyfriends and one alien girlfriend.

One boyfriend, who is also a subtenant in my brain, can’t understand me when I speak, but I understand him fine when he does. (And most of what he says is delicious dirty talk.)

The girlfriend can understand me when I talk, through her translator chip. She’s communicating with me via telepathy tentacles, but I can’t understand her too well because she mostly uses a weird mix of very basic English and her native language, which I don’t speak and which appears to be rudimentary.

And the other boyfriend… He does speak fluent English, but his preferred means of expression are fierce glowering and forced orgasms.

All we need now is a pet parrot called Polly who swears at people in Latvian to complete our merry little dysfunctional group.

Also, I feel like I need a Filofax and/or an assistant who can keep track of my time allotment for me.

6 a.m., wake up, quick breakfast, oral with Rune.

7 a.m., bathroom time, oral in the shower with Bane.

8 a.m., English lesson with Kay, intermittent snogging.

9 a.m., rough anal with Rune and Bane, short nap.

10 a.m., English lesson with Kay, even more snogging. Some petting.

11 a.m., trying to have some lunch, end up abducted by Rune or Bane or both.

And that’s just the morning. You should see the afternoon. Or the evening. Or the night. Oy vey.

Don’t get me wrong, I love it. Seriously, my life is absolutely brilliant and if I had one wish, it would be to keep going exactly like this for the next five years at least or until I drop dead, whichever happens first.

But I do sometimes feel guilty for being with one person and not the other two. I worry that I’m not spending equal time with this or that significant other. That I’m not being fair. That I’m somehow missing out on something, whomever I spend time with.

Forget the schedule or the assistant. I need a goddamned time turner, like Hermione in book three.

“Alternatively, all three of you could try get alonggguh,” I moan into Bane’s mouth. I’m half-lying on top of him while his hands are pulling and pinching my nipples in the most distracting fashion. They are still tingling from having been sucked on and bitten a moment ago. I try to get my revenge by sucking on Bane’s tongue, and he rumbles in his chest.

Meanwhile, Rune is doing wonderful things to my lower anatomy with his lips, tongue, teeth, and fingers. Said lower anatomy, hoisted up into the air like a holy offering, is throbbing in time with my heartbeat after all the things that have been happening to it the past hour or so.

“Ai’l veilk’ur,” I hear Rune growl as he laps at my inner thigh. Dripping hot honey. I blush despite myself. 

I was just about to get up and leave to see Kay when Rune and Bane decided to start an encore. I gotta say, despite being still pretty wrung-out from the main show, I love it so far.

“Guys. Kay is waiting for me. Please, I…”

I try to get off of Bane and up, but someone’s tail or arms are winding around my body and Rune touches my hot center with his even hotter mouth and I groan and crumple.

“I – fuuuck – I need to g’uhh…,” I mumble into the crook of Bane’s neck, reminding myself as much as them of the fact that I, actually, need to g’uhh. 

As if in reply, Rune seals his mouth around my sensitive, still-swollen clit and sucks me. Hard. I yelp, and Bane slings an arm around my torso to hold me immobile as I try to evade the new onslaught of sensation. At the same time, he ever so un-gently clamps my left nipple between his claw-like fingernails.

“Oh, fuck, please,” I sob-yell, “I can’t… I can’t…!” My body is wrecked by overstimulation as post-orgasm torture bleeds into pre-orgasm torture, and I curse and wail and make gouges into the soft tatami-like mats underneath us with my fingernails.

And Bane kisses me and greedily drinks down all my tormented, euphoric noises, and then calmly switches to my right breast as Rune’s tongue slides up my crack and around my pucker. I feel it twitch spastically. It’s still all loose-feeling and tender from having Rune’s cock breach it just a couple of minutes ago. Primed.

“Oh... my.... please.... holy... mother of…” I moan, demented, and cling to Bane’s arms for support. I’m already horizontal, but man, these sensations make me feel like I could still fall on my face. Backwards.

This is why I never long for a book, or miss my smartphone, or wonder what’s new on Netflix. I am never bored because I am practically always busy fighting for my life. The two barbaric aliens that have abducted me are keeping me and my body in a near-constant state of sensual hypertension. This lifestyle may kill me sooner rather than later – but honestly? At least I’ll have felt well and truly alive before that happens.

Far as I’m concerned, Valerie Greene officially died the day she and her car were kidnapped, and every additional second, minute, hour, and day is just bonus material. Post-credit extra scenes. Easter eggs. (And, yes, some bloopers.)
 
Several minutes… hours?… later, I lean back into Bane’s chest, Rune’s head cradled in my lap, the three of us napping against a tree, dripping sweat and still panting a little; a perfectly limp mess of pheromones and dangerously loose muscles.

Okay, well, one of us is napping, sweating, and panting anyway. The other two look fresh as daisies, especially in comparison to me. (There truly is no justice in space.)

I’m in a post-sex haze for a bit, and only after snapping out of it and getting my bearings do I realize that Bane and Rune are not relaxed whatsoever.

I don’t know how long they have been engaged in a staring contest with Kay like a couple of feral cats, and I can only blame my sex-addled brain for not noticing earlier that the air is so thick that it’s practically a bowl of oxygen-oatmeal. Neither do I know how long Kay has been perched on the very edge of the sleeping place, half-ducked into the ferns and trees (and really quite obvious and visible, given her light-gray tinge), but it’s entirely possible that she was there the whole time. Watching the whole thing.

Well, we already knew that she’s a bit of a watcher, my darling Kay. An observer. A visual learner, perhaps?

Oh, dear. If she takes any more cues from Bane and Rune, I’ll be in such trouble.

…wonderful, wonderful trouble.

I remember the last time all my aliens met face to face, and it wasn’t too pretty, so there might be a reason to worry here – but I’m honestly too fucked out to be anxious about this situation right now.

Plus, I figure I should give them some credit. Have some faith. They’re all adults. They all know the value of verbal communication by now, and the perks of peaceful coexistence. There’s a truce between them, of a sort. 

So, I comb my fingers through Rune’s Mohawk in the way I know he likes the most and crane my neck to plant a sweet kiss on the corner of Bane’s mouth. His gaze flickers down at me – so easily distracted, this apex predator, haha! – and his lips chase mine momentarily, but I just smile at him and pull back.

“Kay, sweetheart. Do you want to come join us?” I ask gently but clearly.

Kay stays statue-still and keeps eyeballing us.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” I tell her honestly. “Admittedly, I’m a little bit sorry all the time these days. I want to be everywhere and with everyone at once. I kinda hate that I can’t, and I hope that’ll change.”

Rune catches Bane’s tail that’s flicking this way and that in one hand and starts kneading it around his fingers like it’s the drawstring of a hoodie. Bane shuffles a little behind me. A flash of glee zips through my brain, on the coattails of a burst of a benign kind of annoyance.

This close to everyone, I’m apparently like an old-fashioned radio that occasionally picks up waves from your neighbor’s neighbor’s toaster as well as Soviet spy frequencies if the wind blows southeasterly or whatever. Or maybe I’m just getting more attuned to everyone and everything.

Kay watches the goings-on. I can practically feel her wariness wafting over to us, on that selfsame southeasterly wind.

“Seriously, though. You didn’t need to wait. You could’ve just… come to me. You can always, always come to me, Kay.” And I hope, in time, she can also come to Bane and Rune. I hope they can be in each other’s presence without all this guardedness- nonsense. Yes, they’ve had a rocky start but… I mean, so did Harry, Ron and Hermione and they ended up best friends, too.

(Well, Hermione didn’t want to fuck or kill Ron or Harry.)

(At least not right away, anyway.)

Maybe let’s not underestimate Ms Granger.

(And you’re more like Dobb-)

Okay, shut up now, please.

“You have as much claim to me and my time as these two have. And look, there is space for you. Right here.” I pat the ground by my side, indicating that she can come and hang out.

She doesn’t.

She also doesn’t run away, though. She eyes me, and then Bane and Rune, and me again.

Baby steps.

“It’s just that I don’t want to split myself in two, or three, you know? I don’t want to divide my time. I don’t like doing that. I want to be whole, and wholly, with you.”

My fingertips make a little circle around Rune’s skull, from the craggy scar where his translator chip used to be to his ear, and he huffs out some air and drops Bane’s tail because my touch causes his fingers to twitch too hard. I fondly smirk down at him while he smolders up at me from my lap, his eyes full of vengeful, hot promises.

“I want to be with all of you, all the damn time. I want to see you all and have you around me constantly. Talk to you. Touch you. And… stuff.”

I trail off because something – or rather, someone – in my brain has chosen that moment to latch on to the concrete reality of being with all of them at the same time doing… stuff. So many mouths, two large, weeping cocks, and several slimy, tight holes are involved. Mouths. Teeth. Tongues. Fingers that hold on so tight. Arms that wrap all around me like strangling vines. I clench involuntarily and shiver a little.

Bane, ever helpful, snakes an arm around my torso and pins me tighter to his solid chest, grazing the underside of my breasts with his large hand as he does. Very subtle. I huff a laugh and lean back into him, getting even noodlier than I was before. My goodness, has ever a woman been so well-tended? If there’s a top 100 of the best cared-for females in the universe, I’m sure I’d be on that list. Quite high, in fact. I sigh happily and drag my languid mind back into the present, where the showdown is still happening.

“I realize that I’m asking a lot of all of you, and especially you, Kay. There was a whole lot of ‘I want, I want’ in there and I never got around to really asking what you want. I guess that makes me a selfish human. A selfish, greedy, needy, filthy kinky human.” I shrug and sigh. “I hope you like me anyway?”

We make and hold eye contact for a long moment. Then Bane reaches for my chin and pulls my face around for another kiss, and by the time it ends, I see stars – but no Kay anymore. She has vanished.

Baby steps, baby steps, baby steps.


***TBC soon***