Princess of the Void
[side story] Talem & The Knife – pt 2 [R-18🩶]

The outer wall of the temp-hab clatters and puckers behind Talem’s back as he’s shoved into it. It practically bends as the huge fish-woman who shoved him slams up against it, pinning him to the sheet metal.

Talem exhales into the Harok evening and sees his own breath billowing. “Here?”

“Here,” Qiva says.

“It’s fuckin’ cold.”

“Scared your prick’s gonna fall off or something?” Her big heavy hands are unbuttoning his uniform pants. “I’ll keep it warm.”

She undoes her belt, and pauses. Her grip solidifies on his horn and pulls his head back. “But no kissing,” she grunts. She yanks her parka open.

He scrabbles briefly for purchase against the thin wall, trying to get himself in a comfortable enough position. “Can’t fuckin’ reach you anyway.”

She snorts.

Talem’s gaze flicks from Qiva to the two Eqtorans who have followed them, from the taphouse to the outside of this perimeter shack. “Are they just gonna watch?”

Qiva looks at Nose Ring, who grins sharp. “Sure,” she says. “This time.”

Nose ring clicks her tongue. “C’mon, sarge.”

“Shut up,” Qiva says, casually.

“That’s not what Taiikari do,” Talem says.

“Don’t care what Taiikari do,” Qiva says. “You tapping out?”

He looks at Nose Ring, who smirks back. Her eyes are bright and dancing. Younger than Qiva, he thinks, though maybe it’s the lack of scars. She’s slim, for an Eqtoran, with corded shoulders, more like a gymnast than Qiva’s powerlifter frame.

Then he looks at the keeper, who’s shifting from foot to foot and rubbing her knuckle-tatted hands together in the chill. She blinks at his attention and smiles at him. Nose Ring and Qiva have their nasty grins down pat. This girl just looks happy to be looking back at him. Maybe she needs practice.

“Not before you,” he says.

Qiva’s teeth shine in her predatory leer. “Hold him for me, girls.”

Two pairs of hands close around his arms and pin them to the wall. Nose Ring leans into his airspace. Is she smelling his hair? The keeper’s on his other arm; she’s shockingly strong for how compact she is, barely taller than him. “I’m Piaq, by the way,” she whispers.

Before he can respond to this ersatz introduction, Qiva’s grabbed his face one-handed around the mouth and tilted his vision back up to her. She reaches into her waistband and untucks her ribbed tank. She pulls its hem up until it tucks under her chin. Her breasts tug briefly upward with the fabric, then bounce into place in front of Talem’s face. They are pierced, they are perfect, and each is the size of his head.

She leans closer. They hang forward, black barbells glinting, inches from his nose. “You wanna touch me?”

He flexes his arms, trying to shift them. The women holding him don’t budge. “Yes,” he says.

“Struggle, then, little conqueror.”

He settles against the wall, then surges, trying to explode his way out of the sharky girls’ grasp. Nose Ring laughs brightly as he thrashes. “There’s that fire, Taiikari.”

Qiva tugs the zipper down on his pants. He’s dizzyingly hard; a dark fleck of pre-cum marks his head’s straining spot on his briefs. Piaq the keeper lets out a little sigh. Qiva’s hand fires forward and shoves him chest-first back against the wall, then rises to his throat. It’s so goddamn big that with her fingers spaced out she’s got him pinned to the wall by his neck, but not choking.

“There it is,” she coos. “You know what you look like?”

“What?”

“Prey,” she says.

A fist closes around his horn and shoves him into the sweaty canyon of her cleavage. Her heavy breasts settle on his shoulders. His huffing gasp fills his nostrils with salt and the coppery regulation deodorant she’s wearing. She doesn’t smell like a fish. She smells healthy.

“Talking like Eqtoran girls couldn’t handle you.” Her muscle-banded curves press closer. There’s no room to move back, or forward, or anywhere. “How about now?” Her leg shoves between his, opening his stance. He lets out a jagged breath as her stubby fingers dig into the fabric.

“It’s three-on-one,” he says. “Not—that’s not fair.”

“All your friends ran away. Not my fault.” She leers. “How about that. Look who’s hard for the fishface.”

“Look who’s—” He catches his breath as her hips mark a slow circle against his waist. “Look who’s wet for the Taiikari.”

“Been a while since I’ve had something good. Even a little goat like you’ll do. Little snack between meals.”

“Shut up,” he says.

“Shut up.” She imitates him. Her dark laugh rumbles in his ear. She clutches his length and rubs a thumb along its shaft. His knees go weak, and she must feel it, the way she laughs again. “What’s the matter, boy? You folding that easy? This is the species that conquered mine?”

“That’s right,” he says, “we did,” but his voice sounds so thin and breathy.

“Gonna conquer you back.” She unclasps the belt at her waist and unzips her combat cargos. “Break you in.”

Her pants catch and peel against her thick, thundercloud-colored thighs.

“Gonna show you what you little goat boys have earned yourselves,” she rasps.

“We can’t do this here,” he says. “There’s conjugal habs—”

Her eyes narrow. “You wanna fuck or not?”

He swallows. He nods.

“See that?” Her hips push hard against his waist. “Don’t need laser eyes to make you do what I say.” Her folds are pliant and pulsing and pressed up against the black, humid fabric of her panties. She hooks a finger into the elastic and pulls them aside. A strand of dripping arousal stretches and breaks with the fabric’s motion.

She tugs his boxer briefs down.

“Oh,” Piaq breathes. “It’s—it’s different.”

“Course it is.” Nose Ring’s smile is still on, but she’s staring just as close as Piaq is. “He’s an alien.”

“Condom.” Qiva holds her hand out. Nose Ring lets one of her hands up from Talem’s arm to dig into her pocket and place one into Qiva’s hand.

“You ready for this, boy?” Qiva’s stance widens as she tears the packaging open and sheathes his aching cock. Her vulva is plump and glistening, coating the insides of her thighs so they’re slick and shiny in the flickering perimeter light. “Gonna saddle you up. Gonna fuck you blind.”

A hand smacks into his ass and squeezes, hard, pulls him flush against the rubbery, shapely flesh of her thighs. She buries her snout in his hair and mutters something unintelligible as she hitches her hips and repositions herself, her quads hardening with her crouch. Then she thrusts, and he gasps, and he slides up and in.

The muscle beneath her tree-trunk waist shifts and locks and she closes on him like a fist. She lets out a hissing sigh. Her head tilts back. “Oh, fuck yes.”

Her hands, her chest—they’re cool to the touch, their heat encased beneath an insulating layer of fat. But inside, she’s a fucking radiator. And tight. Tight enough to send a haywire shock across his brain. How is a woman so big so fucking tight?

She shoves her chest forward. His head clonks into the wall as her breasts deform against his face. His mouth fills with pierced, pebbled flesh.

“Suck,” she commands. He sucks, enthusiastically. She thrusts her hips, grinding and shifting, and it’s all for her pleasure, all forward-and-back, not up-and-down, but she’s so tight and warm and roiling inside that it doesn’t matter. Her pussy is mind-meltingly hot against the chilly night air.

Her hands tuck under his armpits. His bootheels scrabble against the wall as he’s pulled up on tiptoes.

“That’s right. Right there.” Her breath is thickening. “Eqt’s fucking tits.”

She lets out a moan. Dark and syrupy and indulgent. By Talem’s shoulder, Nose Ring’s brows furrow. Her hand tightens on his arm.

He can barely breathe, and not because he’s being suffocated. His heart is hammering so hard it hurts. Talem has discovered something about himself today:

He fucking loves Eqtoran girls.

“What the f—” Qiva’s mouth hangs open. She shifts and starts up a bruising, primal piston that whites out Talem’s mind. “What the fuck,” she rasps.

“Qiv.” Nose Ring’s voice is an urgent whisper. “What’s going on?”

“Fucking shit.” Qiva lets out a gasping laugh. “It’s good.”

The hands pinning him to the wall are shifting. The touch is going from a vise to something softer and deeper at the same time. Feeling him.

“Good how?” whispers Nose Ring.

“He—it’s—” A jolt lances through her. “God. I’m—” Talem gasps as her brawny body undulates around him. Her head tilts back as a deep-chested, dark chocolate moan drips from her.

Then she’s right in his face, golden eyes boring into him. “Harder, boy.”

“My arms.” He tugs on them. “Gimme my arms back.”

“Sarge?”

Qiva nods jerkily, her face dark with rushing blood. “Do it.”

They release his arms and he throws them around her waist, clutching her closer as her hips milk him, and in the suffocating darkness, she’s beautiful.

God, she is. He can’t even pretend otherwise. Qiva is fucking gorgeous. Her padded, curved body. Her divinely-carved shoulders, her arms. Her thick, ripe thighs. Her stiletto sneer. A cute little pooch of fluffy insulation bounces rhythmically over her taut abdominals as she shoves herself against him.

He anchors his hands on the plentiful round globes of her jiggling ass as she fucks him. His armspan barely fits around it.

Her flesh is so rubbery and reactive that he can’t help himself. Maybe this is his last living act; he doesn’t give a fuck.

Talmem smacks Qiva’s ass, and sends a quaking ripple through the doughy flesh over her steel glute. She lets out a hiss of surprise that turns into a breathless laugh.

“All right, boy,” she says. “Okay. Faster.”

She’s halfway lifting him up, now, riding the soul out of him. His calves burn from the effort of movement in this awkward position. But even with his legs’ protest he feels it. His climax shoving itself down into his core, coiling like a spring ready to go off.

He tries to say I’m close but Qiva’s shuddering body is enveloping him, and his voice is muffled by the fat round breasts that engulf his face.

She tugs his head out of her cleavage. “What?”

“I’m close.”

“Fucking don’t,” she snaps. “Not—yet—”

Her teeth grit. Her movements are losing their rhythm, getting jerkier and deeper. He does what he can to match her, to push back against her broad, pumping hips.

“Right there. Oh, fuck.” A husky moan rises in her throat. “Gonna—”

She claps a thick hand against her mouth. A strangled cry rips through her fingers. Her nostrils flare; her breath freezes. Her hips roll and buck and she growls a muffled string of unspeakably profane sound into his ear, and she’s spasming and squeezing. The weight of her. The expansive curve of her muscular ass, flexing as it grinds him into the wall.

Her breathing switches back on in a billowing gasp. She leans over him, her arms shaking against the sheet metal.

“Sarge.” Piaq’s hushed. “Did he make you cum?”

Qiva’s chest heaves as she catches her breath. “Fuck does it look like?” she rumbles. Every inhale squashes her pillowy, perspiring chest into Talem’s face.

Nose Ring is staring with fierce concentration past her boss, into Talem’s eyes. Her finger is hooked into her mouth.

“You wanna cum in the fishface, boy?”

He looks back up at Qiva, whose superiority is screwed back on, despite the strand of drool hanging from her big, dark tongue.

He nods.

“Beg.” And her hand pushes against his neck. “Say Please, Qiva.”

He lets out a nostril-flaring exhalation as she gyrates against him. “Not gonna beg.”

Her fingers close around his throat. Her mean grin has devolved into a tight grimace of lust. “Say. Please.”

“Fuck you,” he wheezes.

A flash of some emotion crosses Qiva’s face, so quick that it’d be impossible for Talem to recognize it even on a Taiikari face. Then she laughs in his ear. “All right,” she grunts. And her hand stays where it is, but the pressure at his neck alleviates, and she’s moving again, ragdolling him against the wall. “All right. You earned it.”

Nose Ring’s eyes bug. “You’re letting him—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Qiva snaps. Her breath puffs against his ear. Her voice drops into a deep, throaty whisper. “Come on, little conqueror. Plant your flag in me.” Her hands are so big and hot and textured, cupping his face, running through his hair. He buries his face back into her breasts, up against the thrumming of her heart. He feels the vibration of her voice. “Conquer the alien,” she croons. “Let it out.”

He lets it out.

Talem’s misfiring lungs release a ragged, wordless sound as he cums. Qiva’s touch is so all-encompassing on him, in his hair, against his cheek, so rough and inflexible and somehow so comforting, and her silky insides throb in time to his orgasm, pulling it from him, swallowing him whole, and she laughs again, that coarse-ground espresso laugh, but the mocking edge is gone from it somehow, and beneath all the gristle and teeth and the barbs she’s put up there’s something big and sheltering, something warm as a dry-kindled fire.

He goes limp in her big cinching arms.

“Good Taiikari.” She lifts him away from the wall. Her hand flattens out against his lower back. “Good boy.”

She’s scratching his ear. To his simmering resentment, and her endless amusement, he’s purring.

She caresses his face. “Like a little pet,” she muses. “Look at him.”

“A pet?” He rubs his neck. It’s still a little tender where she clutched it. “I’m an enlisted marine.”

“Nah. You’re too good a boy.” Her thumb runs under his chin. “Gonna be our pet now.”

Yeeees, sings a choir of doe eyed Talems in his mind. “Fuck off,” he tells her.

“Aww. Look at how purple his face is now,” Piaq purrs. “He’s cute.”

“Again,” Qiva decides. Her thumb smushes against his lips. “Show me what this flat face can do.”

“Not without a conjugal hab,” he says. “There’s regs.”

Qiva detaches from him. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine.” She’s buckling her pants back on. “Get that cum-catcher off you and let’s go.”

“Wait. What about my turn? Hey. Talem.” Nose Ring tugs on his elbow as he ties the condom off. Her hands are shaking. “What about my turn?”

“You’ll get your turn.” Qiva nails Nose Ring with a look. Her hand thumps heavily onto Talem’s shoulder and ratchets him in against her. “He’s mine tonight.”

And she pulls him away, into the night, toward the conjugal habs. No red eyes; no flash. But he’d never dream of going anywhere but the place she is taking him.