Spacegal Chapter 8

CW for full penetrative alien sex

“Hey, uh, I need to talk to you about something weird,” Cam flipped on the back thrusters and watched the junk-package sail off towards the wormhole. “If it's about Wryk'ars – sorry, Ars – I don't want to hear it.” She chuckled. “Naw. It's uh... It's about Jareth.” “You want a threesome? I'm not really into it but he probably would be.” “Eww! Gross! Like I'd sleep with him. No, look, I know you're joking around but it's kinda troubling.” “Okay, okay. What's up?” Cam sighed, leaning back in her chair and watching the station drifting closer. “So I was with – Actually before I continue, I'll prefix this by saying 'not in that way', because I know you'll shriek otherwise – nothing happened. So I was with Geoffrey night before last.” “Oooooooooooh,” Vi crooned into the headset. “Brat has cocooned himself up against the ceiling in my room. Geoffrey came to visit him and said we should document this stuff because he can't find anything out about what Brat actually is, so we got his scanning equipment and he stayed a while doing that.” “Right. How is his equipment, Cam?” “Yeah, yeah. Anyway about 2am, someone buzzed the door. It was Jareth.” There was a moment's silence. “Oh?” “He had a six-pack of beers with him. Wanted to come in and have 'brewskies', and when I declined, he got a bit forceful.” “What do you mean?” “I told him no, like, a bunch of times. I don't like the guy, I certainly don't want to hang out with him. He's your 'thing'. He wouldn't accept no, tried persuading me and kept asking if he could come in, and eventually tried shoving past me, so I floored him.” “Fuck.” “Yeah. He left after that, but then yesterday I came out of Geoffrey's place –” “Okay you really need to tell me what's going on with you two.” “– Nothing. I left Geoffrey's place and Jareth was sleeping at the end of the corridor on the floor.” “Huh?” “Yeah, he was just – sitting on the floor leaning back against the wall, looking towards Geoffrey's place, getting his Z's on.” “So weird. The hell is that boy up to.” “I dunno. How are things between you, are you still bumping uglies?” “Yeah. Saw him day before yesterday actually, must have been before he went over your place at 2am.” “Was he acting weird?” “Naw, he was fine. Wait – he did ask me about the recipe. He's pestered me about it twice now. I didn't tell him anything, said I wasn't going to tell him squat until I'd asked you if I could.” “What kinda things was he asking?” “He wanted to know exactly what you found and whether it came through the wormhole or not.” “Hmm,” Cam stood as her ship slid into the station's cargo bay and docked for the next pick-up. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

* * *

“I've missed this,” Cam panted as Wryk'ars slid their azolae up under her shirt and tickled goosebumps over her skin. “How long are you back for?” “Just this day, most-endearing-one,” They mumbled, pressing into Cam's stomach. “But this one has three hours to spend here.” Camryn could feel the thousands of tiny cilia rippling against her skin; a sign of Wryk'ars' arousal that accentuated her own excitement. She let Wryk'ars peel her shirt off and carry it away on the tip of a tentacle to slide onto the floor, discarded and unnecessary. Wryk'ars used two more tentacles to turn Cam around so that her back pressed into Wryk'ars' trembling form, while their deft azolae unclasped her trousers and slid them, and her underwear, down to her ankles. She dutifully stepped out of them. “A whole extra hour,” Cam whispered, smiling. “Whatever shall we do.” “This one has a few ideas,” They pulled Camryn back against the bulk of their form, supporting her weight so that she was leaning back at an angle, and then wound two tentacles up around her calves to tickle at the top of her thighs, gently easing her legs apart. Camryn stretched her arms back and up over her head, letting Wryk'ars take her weight as she relaxed her body. She let out an anticipatory sigh, enjoying the preamble but eager for the conclusion. Wryk'ars' azolae curved around her supine body from either side, dancing softly around the soft skin of her breasts, tickling deft circles around her perked nipples. “Are they changing your rotation?” Camryn mumbled, eyes fluttering closed. “No, most-endearing-one,” Wryk'ars pressed their soft, warm mouth into Camryn's neck and up to caress her earlobe. “This one is participating in workplace training. This one finds it tedious.” Camryn chuckled. “Yeah, don't we all.” She felt another two tentacles slithering up along her arms, wrapping around her wrists and holding her arms gently above her head. She was lifted up off her feet, her whole body now supported entirely by Wryk'ars. “I like this,” Cam murmured. “Not too tight though, okay?” “As you wish, most-endearing-one,” Wryk'ars' breath was hot against Cam's neck. The tentacles that held her legs apart curled higher, their rounded tips tickling at the very top of Camryn's thighs. She could feel Wryk'ars' flugthore engorging beneath her, but Wryk'ars wasn't ready for Cam to take the organ into her just yet. Instead, while their azolae continued to flick at and encircle her nipples and massage the gentle swell of her breasts, the tentacles at her thighs crept a little further upwards and started stroking back and forth lightly, at first along the point at which her thighs met her outer labia, and then moving slowly inwards, sliding easily through her eager wetness. “Oh Tizlel,” Cam whispered, her body wanting to writhe to try to angle herself onto one of those delicious dancing tentacles, but unable to, held in place by Wryk'ars and prone to their teasing administrations. She wasn't sure which she enjoyed most – having her eyes closed and able to focus purely on the physical sensation, or having her eyes open and the oddness of seeing nothing at all in front of her, or even in her periphery, to cause the sensations in the first place. “This one is pleased that you are not conversing about the lizard man on this occasion,” Wryk'ars said as they flicked a tentacle-tip in circles around Cam's clitoris. And that was it – Geoffrey was immediately in her mind's eye. Unbidden she saw him in her ship's cockpit, just like in the dream, except they were both naked, and he was leaning down over her as she sat in the pilot's chair, one hand behind the back of her neck as he rubbed his other hand against her crotch. “Fuck,” Cam winced and strained against her bindings, orgasm threatening. She tried to will the images from her mind but they found fuel from Wryk'ars' movements, mirroring what Wryk'ars was doing to her body but her mind placing Geoffrey there as the administrator of the attention. As Wryk'ars circled Cam's vulva with one of their soft, throbbing tentacles, so did Geoffrey in her mind pull Cam's body down onto his stiff cock, lingering his tip at her opening. As Wryk'ars pushed their tentacle fully inside her, so too did imaginary Geoffrey thrust into her. “Oh fuck oh fuck,” Cam's orgasm punched her sudden and hard, muscles spasming, back arching away from Wryk'ars' body. Her hands balled into fists and she bit back her lip, relenting to the mental images and imagining fully that it was Geoffrey who had brought her to climax. The tidal wave calmed to a gentle ripple and Camryn sighed, her body relaxing. She felt a little pang of guilt, and then anger that Wryk'ars had chosen that precise moment to mention Geoffrey. “This one senses that your pleasure was great,' Wryk'ars whispered into Cam's ear, tentacle withdrawing as they shifted Cam's body around so that their flugthore was positioned just under her slit. “This one is excited likewise.” They slid their swollen flugthore inside her; the organ was thicker than their tentacles and filled her completely, and as they thrust slowly and deliberately into her, they shifted a few azolae downwards to dance around her clitoris as the remaining azolae continued tweaking at her nipples. It didn't take long for Camryn to feel a second orgasm building. Well, in for a penny, she thought to herself and this time it was Geoffrey in the chair and she on top of him, bucking up and down against him as he held gently onto her waist with his clawed hands, fiery red eyes boring into hers, his head tipped slightly back, his chest rising and falling against hers. “Fuck yes,” Cam groaned as Wryk'ars body started shuddering intensely beneath her, their body releasing in orgasm just as her second climax reached crescendo. When their bodies had stilled, Wryk'ars unwound their tentacles and Cam slid gently downwards until her feet touched the floor. “I need a shower,” She padded around the room collecting the scattered items of her clothing. Wryk'ars was silent a moment, and then reached one tentacle out to take Camryn by the wrist. “This one is wondering if it is a coincidence that most-endearing-one achieved orgasm just as this one mentioned the lizard man,” They said quietly. Camryn sighed. “You caught that, huh.” Wryk'ars retracted their tentacle and moved to perch on the sofa. “This one is surprised at how often most-endearing-one forgets that this one's species has a heightened sense of emotional awareness.” “Yeah,” Cam ran her hand back through her hair. “Did you have to mention him right at that moment?” Wryk'ars executed what was their version of a shrug. Cam narrowed her eyes. “Oh. Oh, I see how it is. That was intentional, wasn't it? You wanted to see how I'd react.” She watched the iridescent alien for a long moment, but there was no sign of denial forthcoming. “Well, I hope you're happy,” Cam said quietly though her fingers curled into a tight fist around the clothes she was holding. “I hope you got exactly what you were after. I'm going in the shower; when I come out, you should probably not be here.”

* * *

Geoffrey sensed her approaching long before she came into view. Her footfalls thudded distinctively along the corridor some way away, sending vibrations through the metal that he picked up through his talons on the floor. She was jogging, and he closed his eyes, standing up a little straighter and spreading his toes out, curling his talons into the ground somewhat so that he felt the vibrations more distinctively. Her pace was slightly faster than normal, her footfalls heavier. Was she angry? Energetic, perhaps? After 'listening' for a moment longer, he opened his eyes and took a breath, reaching for the sweeping brush and busying himself with it. He felt her come around the corner ahead of him, the spines along his tail bristling a little in reaction to her presence. He looked up as she slowed her pace to a walk, plucking ear-buds out of her ears. “Hey,” She smiled at him. “I was hoping I'd run into you.” “Hello,” He returned her smile, battling for a moment with a feeling of self-consciousness that his smile was full of fangs and pointed little razor-teeth and hers was soft and smooth and voluptuous. Geoffrey cleared his throat. “Do you have time for talking?” She sidled up to his cleaning cart and rested her hand on the handle casually. “Yes,” He brushed some dust and fluff in towards the little pile he'd accumulated and reached for the pan. “For you, always.” Her cheeks flushed and he struggled to control his tail that wanted to flick wildly back and forth. “Did you try the sausage?” She looked over at him, anticipation evident in her cool blue eyes. Like water, he thought; like still, gentle water, while his were red and fierce and angry. He looked away quickly. “Yes. I'm sorry that I could not accommodate you for longer when you visited last.” “Oh it's fine,” From the periphery of his vision, as he kneeled down and swept the pile of debris into the pan, he saw her raise her arms up over her head, interlocking her fingers and standing up on her tiptoes, her whole body lengthening upwards towards the corridor ceiling, stretching out. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on collecting all of the dust into the pan. “Chemical spill in one of the docking bays from a ship that hadn't realised its hull had been pierced,” He explained. “I was on call.” “Really, it's fine,” She flexed her neck back and forth. “What did you think?” “Of the spill? It wasn't anything serious; just a precaution really that they'd called us.” He stood and tipped the pan into the open bag hanging from the cart. “Of the sausage,” She giggled at him and the sound sent shivers rippling through his skin. “Oh,” He smiled bashfully. “Yes, it was delicious. Better even than the... Buttersausage, was it? That you bought for me that once.” She grinned wide. “Awesome! Because I have a follow-up question; it's the other reason I was calling in on you.” “Oh?” Geoffrey hung the pan from a hook on the cart. “Can we walk and talk?” “Yeah!” He reached for the cart handle and for the briefest fraction of a second, the side of his hand brushed against hers as she took her hand away. He drew a sharp intake of breath, and then forced himself to move. “I have this and two other corridors to take care of,” He glanced down at her as she walked alongside him. “What is it you wanted to ask?” “Well, the sausage is a huge success. I mean, it's delicious. Like, amazingly delicious. Blimm, my chef friend down in the canteen, he's happy to start churning them out and selling them if I provide some of the credits towards buying ingredients.” “I see,” Geoffrey paused the cart and took a spray bottle and cloth from one of the trays. “It was a particularly delightful sausage, I must admit.” “But he needs somewhere to cook them; somewhere on the down-low. Thinks lots of people will be after the recipe and the canteen is too obvious.” “Mmm,” Geoffrey spritzed some cleaning solution over a window that looked out onto another section of the station, and then rubbed the cloth over the window. He stretched up, working the cloth into the high corners, and caught her reflection in the glass staring at him. Or, more specifically, at his body, her eyes traversing the length of him from his neck to his feet and back up again. He looked away with a small grin, pretended he hadn't noticed. “You're the first person I thought of for asking,” She said after a quiet moment. “With the work you do, you probably know all the... quiet places.” Her voice had become throaty. He turned, placing the spray bottle and cloth back onto the cart. She was watching his every move like a Gos'ohute Night-Wamff watched a Preiglashua on the plains before swooping in to snatch it up. He swallowed hard, aware of the fire rising inside him. “I'm sure I can find somewhere suitable,” He mused, pushing the cart forward slowly. “There are some areas on D and E decks that don't see much foot-traffic.” “Sounds perfect. How do you want to play this – shall I leave it with you, or shall we go scouting at some point?” He smiled, pushing the cart to one side and picking up the brush again. Now he was imagining what they might get up to, scouting through the quiet parts of the station together. “You should come with me. You know more than I which kind of place would be suitable.” “Cool,” She bounced on her toes. “My next off-day is in three days. It's actually my two days off, so that day or the day after.” “Three days time, come to my quarters when you get up in the afternoon.” She grinned. “You remembered I work the late shift.” “Of course,” He shrugged, pulling the brush across the floor. “I presumed you'd get up later.” “You'd be surprised how many people aren't that considerate. So you're not working on that day?” “In the morning,” He grabbed the pan to push the dust into it, but she took the pan from him and kneeled down so that he didn't have to. “Thank you,” He said quietly and pushed the dust into the pan; when he was done, she tipped it into the bag and shrugged. “No bother.” They lingered for a moment in silence, having reached the natural conclusion of that topic of conversation. Realising she was still holding onto the pan, he reached out and took it from her, their hands touching again, moreso this time. He let out a slow breath, re-hanging the pan onto the hook. “I'll see you then, then,” Cam stepped back and fondled with her ear-buds, getting ready to replace them. “I shall look forward to it.” He held her gaze a moment, watched her round pupils dilating a little as he looked into them, and then she took a step back, smiled a little, and started to walk away. Hearing her footfalls again reminded him of their cadence when she'd been approaching him. “Hey, Spacegal,” He called after her and she spun around eagerly. “Yeah?” “This is um... Probably none of my business, so please don't feel obligated to answer... Are you alright? When you walked over, you seemed... Angry, maybe?” A frown shadowed her features for a moment, and then she sighed, dropping the ear-buds and stepping up to him again. “There you go being perceptive again,” She smiled, but it was a small, fragile looking gesture. He sensed the tension in her and fought the urge to wrap his arms around her shoulders, remembering the last – nay, the only – time they'd hugged, how close and warm and soft she had felt. “You don't have to tell me anything,” He assured her. “I only wanted to check that you're alright.” “Oh I'm fine,” Her smile widened a little. “I just uh... Kinda ended things with 'Ars.” “ 'Ars?” He perked a brow. The trader who flies in now and then?” “Mmm,” She nodded. “We kinda had a thing. It wasn't serious, just something fun to pass the time.” “And yet you're angry,” He leaned back against the corridor wall, hooking his thumbs into his pockets. Her eyes flicked downwards over him again, but she quickly checked herself. “Yeah, it's the thing that led to the ending-of-things that riled me.” “Would you like to talk about it?” She opened her mouth as if to speak, and then suddenly her face flushed the brightest shade of crimson. “Er, no,” She coughed. “No I'm fine. But thank you! That's really sweet of you to offer. He nodded. Clearly something about the discussion made her uncomfortable and, intrigued though he was, he didn't want to press the matter. If she wanted to tell him, eventually, she would. The datapad in his pocket beeped just then, cutting through the silence between them. “Excuse me,” He said, slipping it out and flicking the screen on. It was a memo for his janitorial team. He skimmed through the contents and glanced up at her. “You're on the evening shift tonight, correct?” “Yeah,” She said, “Why?” “Your ship – is it the XZ-Seven, B-class?” “That's the one. Reg FIS-0876.” He turned the datapad around to show her. “It seems someone complained about the station not allocating cleaning resources to the ships.” She flicked her eyes over the text and then looked up at him. “You're cleaning my ship this evening?” “It would appear so,” He turned off the screen and slid the datapad back into his pocket. “Cool!” She smiled, and then scowled almost immediately, and then flushed an even deeper shade of crimson than she had previously. “Is everything alright?” He asked, becoming a little concerned for her health now. Was it usual for human skin colour to change so drastically, so quickly? “Yeah,” the word came out as a high-pitched squeak. She cleared her throat. “I mean, yeah. Is it hot in here? Did the air con break?” She tugged at the collar of her t-shirt. “Hey I gotta jet. I'll see you tonight at my ship,” She nodded at him, and then broke into a jog, shoving her ear-buds back in and leaving him standing there more than a little confused.

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, let me know at WelshPixie <3