by Aubrey Cara
While I’ve definitely been enjoying sleeping more than being awake on this little sojourn through outer space, waking up in new places with a splitting headache is getting old. My mouth is like cotton and paste. How thirsty I am drastically contradicts how badly I have to pee.
I’m also extremely aware that Beast Boy is all over me. I never would have pegged Mr. Oathar, the Yawn Whatever, for a cuddler, but he’s totally spooning the crap out of me. His skin feels bizarre against mine. It has an almost rubbery smooth scaly texture, but silkier. I trail my fingers over his arm slung at my waist. His skin is rather reptilian, but not in a eww, gross way. In fact, it’s not an altogether unpleasant sensation. There is definitely a lot of hard-packed muscle leaning up against me, that’s for sure.
That does not detract from how much I don’t want his naked body pressed against mine. I yank my hand away from where I was practically groping him and scowl at the fact I need to remind myself this is no pleasure cruise.
He has one hand on my boob, and the other arm is around my waist. Luckily, my clothes are on, and his nails have retracted.
Well, that would be cool if I weren’t creeped out that I’m sharing a bed with a dude who has scales, ridges on his head, and retracting nails.
Ugh, I think I have an alien boyfriend.
I’m not even sure if he has a tail.
I try to peek around to his butt, but I see nothing. Still, I can’t be sure.
My bladder is making a protest that soon is going to be cramping. I huff out a frustrated breath. Wiggling, I notice something come to attention against my hip. I still instantly. The egg-shooting dick is awake, and it feels as large as it looked pressed against his pants.
Glancing over at his still-sleeping form I cautiously ease the blanket up from our waists to take a peek and…yep, that’s an alien cock right there.
I lower the blanket and stare at the white expanse of the ceiling, but what’s been seen cannot be unseen. It seemed quite similar to a human cock, except shinier. The mushroom head has some kind of folds or pleats, like a closed tulip or rosebud. There were other details, but I can’t be sure. And it was full.
Big and full.
“You’re showing signs of fear. There is no need to be frightened.” Oathar’s voice startles me. As do his long, thick fingers trailing over my throat. “You still have some marks. Your human flesh is very sensitive.”
Running my fingers over the liberated skin, my gaze jerks to his. “You’ve taken off the collar.” I hadn’t even noticed.
He stops touching me and I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed. His tender touch was nice. Maybe a little too nice. I don’t need to be getting hot and bothered over Beast Boy. He bought me as a human incubator, for heaven’s sake.
“The collar seemed pointless. The translator the Ikbar injected at your temple has a tracking device.”
Well, don’t I just get a warm and fuzzy feeling of reassurance from that factoid? I run my fingers over the bump on my temple. That’s how I can understand everyone. I have a super high-tech translator in my head.
Wonderful.
“I have to pee,” I tell him. His face scrunches in confusion. “You know, urinate?”
“Ah, yes.” Getting up, he’s completely comfortable with his nudity as he walks across the room and presses a button. His ass is hunka well-sculpted, and there is no tail. There is however a definite wide nub over his tailbone, making me think there was once a tail there.
He presses a spot on the wall, and a stainless steel rectangular garbage can slides out of the space in front of him. With a long hand, he gestures toward it, looking at me expectantly.
I’m not sure what’s more disturbing: where he wants me to relieve myself, or the fact that his fully erect cock is flat up against his ripped-like-Jesus belly. He has no testicles, and his big ole alien cock is jutting out of what appears to be an opening in his groin. And the thing doesn’t bounce or sway at all when he walks.
My mouth dries. I’m pretty sure all the oxygen has also been sucked from the room.
I totally get why cats bat at things. I want to go over and smack it to see of it moves. I tilt my head. How can it just be so rigid? That’s some mighty wang. I wonder if that’s normal for his kind or if he’s rocking an above-average egg launcher.
It really is an impressive appendage.
“Come, Bombee, it is the receptacle for your expellant.”
Great.
Easing off the bed, I realize how high up I am when I have to hop down. The movement jars my bladder, and I cringe, my knees locking. Walking over to the strangest toilet I’ve ever seen, I’m happy to see there is a seat of some sort, albeit a narrow one. It’s still too high up for me, though. “Do you have a chair or a stool?”
“No need.” Before I know what’s the what, my panties are dangling off my one ankle and he’s placing me on the receptacle.
My legs fall to either side, straddling it. Still holding me around the waist, he nods at me. Does he expects me to go-go while he’s standing right in front of me? Full eye contact is happening.
“You can let me go.”
“And let you fall? No. It’s better this way.”
“For who?”
“Just go.”
Mother Mary. “I will never forgive you for this,” I mutter under my breath. On the list of most demoralizing moments in my life, this is ranking pretty high, and that’s including being abducted and sold to an alien. I can see the flecks of gold in his amber eyes as my bladder releases. I squeeze my eyes shut, holding up my skirt and think about kittens. And baby jumping goats. My body wants to cry from being relieved of a gallon of pee. Instead I’m counting down the seconds until I’m able to block this all from my memory.
Thank God, I only had to go number one.
The second I finish, I realize my new dilemma. “I don’t suppose you have any toilet paper, do you?”
“Waste receptacle pay-purr?”
“Yes. Something to wipe clean with.”
“Is it not clean now?” He leans down to peer between my legs, and I slam my skirt over my lap.
“Human females wipe after…going,” I choke out. “There’s drippage.”
“This I did not expect.”
“Maybe you should have read up on Earthers better before you decided to buy one,” I snipe, irritated he went through the trouble of abducting a human and doesn’t even know we need toilet paper.
Tilting his head back, he loudly barks out, “Niin! Jhyr!”
An almost immediate answer of, “Yes, Yon Tor,” comes from the other side of the door.
“What are you doing?” I look at him, panicked. This situation is deteriorating by the second.
“I will have them find something to clean you with.”
The door slides open, and I squeal, but Oathar’s large body mostly shields Jhyr’s view of me. And I’m relieved it’s Jhyr standing there and not Niin.
“Get me a small cloth of some kind. And instruct Niin to discover all he can on the waste management and cleaning habits of humans. Specifically, toy-loot pay-purr.”
“Yon Tor?” I can see the perplexed look on the alien’s face. He appears to be nearly as uncomfortable as I am.
“Quickly, Jhyr. We need to clean Bombee.”
Thankfully, Jhyr casts us one last uncertain glance before bowing his head and leaving.
“Just so we’re clear,” I say, glaring up at Oathar. “We’re not cleaning anything.”
“You’re my property, and you’re to host my young. Your health and maintenance are of the utmost importance to me.” The earnest way he gazes at me when he says this, makes something warm unfurl low in my belly.
Take out the “property” bit, and that may be the sweetest thing any guy has ever said to me. Brianna would say I’m crazy. Brook would be rolling her eyes. But I think I’m having a tender if not romantic moment right now with Beast Boy.
On a strange toilet.
In a galaxy, far far away.
Af
ter being abducted.
Not the most ideal time to start crushing on a guy. Especially one who falls firmly in the category of other and has abducted me for breeding purposes…
I’m mental.
“Can you let me down? I think I’m dry by now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I huff.
He sets me down. As soon as my feet touch the floor, I waste no time stepping into my panties and lifting them firmly into place, but not before noticing his feet have only three long toes. Each has a wicked claw on the end.
That is so freaky.
Warily, I eye Oathar. He’s wrapping a strand of my hair around one of his long fingers but gazing longingly at my breasts. I guess boobs are a universal turn on for males of all species.
My stomach grumbling reminds me I’m hungry and thirsty.
His eyes wide with incredulity, Oathar splays a hand over my rumbling tummy. “Is it calling to me? I was going to wait to mate you until we reached Alogoria, but if your body is in need, I can mate you now.”
I roll my eyes, groaning. “The only thing I’m in need of is water and food. And some Tylenol, if you got it.” I knock his hand away from my belly, and his features harden as he stands up straighter. I’m almost sorry for being short with him. Almost. “And you can put that thing away,” I tell him, pointing to his engorged egg launcher.
His jaw clenches. Effortlessly, he bends me at the waist and gives my bottom five measured strikes that have me screaming and trying to cover my hiney. I’m still trying to cover when I’m flipped right side up.
He lifts me by the waist and the air whooshes out of my lungs as he presses his hard length against my happy place. Without conscious thought, my legs move up to straddle his hips, my hands on his chest—oh, sweet mother of muscular chests—more to steady myself rather than push him away, and I freeze.
There is no penetration, but when he rocks against my core, my clit gets way too much direct contact. I do one of those whimper groans that should be reserved for hot third-date guys, and not aliens with three toes on each foot.
My heart is beating triple time.
Leaning in, he breathes deep. My muscles ache, I’m holding so still. His breath puffs against my neck and hair as he sniffs me as if I’m the best thing he’s ever smelt. Getting sniffed this way should not be a turn-on, dammit. But it’s making me go gooey, and I find myself sniffing him in return.
He doesn’t smell too bad himself. Exotic, like spices and herbs, but some kind of flower, too. It’s intriguingly masculine and has a melty effect on my girly bits.
“You deny me while your body cries the mating call, female?” The low rumble of his voice at my ear sends a tremble through me. His hand wedges between us and cups my cooch, over my panties.
A flush of embarrassment works up my chest knowing he’s got to feel how wet I am through the cloth. I gasp when he sweeps the thin barrier aside and one of those long fingers dives in. I grab his wrist, but that doesn’t deter his movements. It only makes him growl at me. “I will put my root away only after you swell with my ling,” he tells me, his stubborn fingers still exploring me. “Only then will it not ache to be inside you.”
He aches to be inside me?
I’m not sure if my body was crying anything before, but it’s singing something pretty loudly now. His amber eyes are so heated. I wonder if his kind kiss. His lips are bare inches from mine and look surprisingly sensual. If I leaned in just a bit, I’d be able to discover if they taste…
“Sir, Niin has the information you requested, and I found a cloth.” Jhyr’s arrival saves me from myself.
“Thank you, Jhyr,” Oathar calls, and surreptitiously removes his hand from my fun bits, wiping my wetness on my thigh. I scowl at him, but he continues to stare at me as he tells Jhyr, “Have Niin send me the information and prepare the sustenance we brought for the human.
Jhyr, who was concentrating on a spot on the ceiling, gives a quick, “Yes, sir,” and flees the area.
It doesn’t escape my notice that Oathar’s no longer referring to me as Bombee. “So, I’m back to being the human female?”
“It will help remind you of your place here. You serve me. You do not speak to me as if I serve you.” His gold-and-amber gaze has gone cold. All the warmth he’d been treating me with before has evaporated as if it never was.
I can’t help but be a little wounded that he’s put me in my place. He’s the “‘Yawn Door” guy of Alogoria’—whatever the hell that means—and I’m just the handy human incubator. He’s my jailor, but I believe Oathar also may be my only ally in what has become my foreseeable future. For that reason, I don’t like that he’s mad at me.
And, maybe, for another, but I don’t want to analyze that.
Lowering my legs, he lets me slide down his body, slowly, so I feel every inch of him. It’s as if he knows his effect on me. When my feet touch the floor, he steps away and gets dressed. I try not to appear awkward and off-kilter as I watch him step into his pants and tuck his still-erect egg launcher into his pants, but tension radiates between us.
Wordlessly, he takes my hand, and I trail behind him to the common area consisting of one round table, and a counter off to the side. Everything is in a “cheerful” black, much like the control room. Jhyr is already sitting at the table with a bowl of something that smells…interestingly blah.
Oathar presses a button on the wall next to us, and a legless seat appears from a hidden panel in the wall and hovers next to the table. I’m marveling over the awesomeness of a hover chair when he pushes me down onto the seat hard enough my teeth snap together.
I grumble about sore bums and bruised lady bits under my breath, and Beast Boy raises an imperial bald brow at me in challenge. For a moment, I consider kicking up a fuss, but I’m hungry.
On the table in front of me are three bars of what I’m assuming is food. One is brown and appears to be beef jerky, but I doubt it actually is. Another looks like a granola bar, and the other seems to be made up of…I’m not even sure what. It’s pink and green and has dehydrated berries in it…maybe? They’re lined up in a row like I’m about to do a taste test. From the expectant looks of Oathar and Jhyr, maybe I am.
“What are these?”
“They are nutrient bars. We were told humans have delicate digestive systems so these are foods we feed to our older ling. One is made of ne’dav meat, the other from rodahr grains, and the third from ashwana.”
Since I don’t know what any of those are I start on the left with the mystery jerky. He said it was some kind of meat. The taste is savory and rich, but the texture is so leathery, I can’t even take a bite. I was assuming ling were babies. How old are ling when they’re able to eat this? I naw on the end like a dog with a bone. When I drool on myself a little, I give up and Jhyr chuckles into his bowl of gray goop.
I put down the bar and wipe my chin off with a scowl. Oathar shakes his head and mutters something about blunt-teethed humans. Picking up the second bar, I bite down hard. I’m able to get a piece of this one, but it’s like eating uncooked rice and oats. I set it down, crunching what’s in my mouth, afraid my teeth may break.
Oathar watches all of this, frowning, and I frown right back at him. I’m annoyed all over again at how unprepared he is to have a human. He went so far to have me abducted, and he couldn’t have had them collect some Earth food? I was more equipped at seven years old when I brought home a stray cat.
Tentatively, I bite into the third, and I’m pleasantly surprised. It reminds me of an organic nature bar with oats and dried berries. It’s more sweet and chewy than crunchy. “Mmm, it’s good,” I tell them, and Oathar’s concerned expression eases. Wouldn’t want the incubator fading away from lack of nutrition, I think bitterly. “What are you eating?” I ask Jhyr, eyeing his strange bowl of goop.
I’m not sure why, but his eyes bug in shock at being addressed by me, and his startled gaze jerks to Oathar’s, as if for help. What the hell is Jhyr’s problem? Ni
in talked to me. More accurately, he talked down to me, but it was to me.
“It’s ne’dav intestines inside a meeka bladder,” Oathar says for Jhyr.
I gag in my mouth a little, not even knowing what the hell knee-dove or meek-whatever is. It’s the alien version of haggis. The description of the otherworld version is just as off-putting. “Is Jhyr not allowed to talk to me?”
Again, they exchange a look. “Jhyr has problems verbally expressing himself to females,” Oathar says, and Jhyr nods.
I blink up at them both. They can’t be serious. “All females? Even Gyhan?”
“Especially Gyhan.”
“Isn’t he your second in command?” I ask incredulously. “Doesn’t he have to go to other worlds? I’m assuming some worlds are run by females. Please tell me at least one planet out in this big old universe is run by a woman.”
Oathar nods. “Yes, but we have Niin.”
“Jhyr, buddy,” I say, shaking my head. “You cannot let Niin be the mouthpiece for all of Alogoria. Seriously. Dude is a douche.”
Both men’s brows crinkle. “Bombee, remember what we discussed. You will not call Niin this doohst. It’s dishonorable. You will carry my ling. You must respect my men.”
We’ll see about that. “I’d respect him if he wasn’t such a douche,” I mutter under my breath.
“What was that?” he challenges.
“Bambi.” I change the subject. “Is it so hard to say Baaaambeeee? You can say it, right, Jhyr?” I ask, giving Jhyr’s shoulder a friendly smack.
His bald brows go up, but he shrugs and nods, not saying a word. Oathar shoots me a dirty glare. “Eat your ashwana, female,” he says, walking away.
“Wait! Do you have any water?” Oathar doesn’t turn around, so I face Jhyr. “I guess it’s just you and me, buddy,” I say around a bite of my ask-wanda bar.
“Jhyr,” Oathar snaps, and Jhyr jumps up from the table. A panel swishes open, and he tosses the bowl inside, and trots to the command room behind Oathar.
Annoyingly alone, I snack on my bar, and start touching the walls panels in hope of finding some freaking water. Finally, a panel slides open to reveal old-fashioned wineskins hanging inside. I roll my eyes at the primitive item on a freaking space ship. Is it too much to ask to be abducted and bought by the aliens who have cool microwaves that can replicate cheeseburgers? Nope, instead I’ve been abducted by the Amish aliens.
