Alien Pirate's Booty (Science Fiction Alien/BBW Fated Mates Abduction Romance)

by Juno Wells

  I've been silent for too long. Not very space marine-like. I have to regain some initiative. I'm not too creative at the moment. But sometimes what you say isn't as important as the fact that you're saying something.

  “So I guess you think I'm your booty,” I wheeze.

  His eyes aren't sparkling anymore, just shining in a vivid green.

  He nods slowly.

  2

  - Brenaxx -

  Her raspy, but still feminine voice comes through her helmet and I nod. I have no idea what she's saying, but I like seeing her face move. I could look at it for hours.

  I experience something I've never felt before: I'm not sure what to do next. For a Xar warrior, that is unheard of. What to do next is always whatever the hell I want. But now I suddenly feel that I should consider what she wants, too. As if I can't make up my mind about what to do until I hear her opinion.

  I'm rattled by that thought. What she wants? She's a female. An alien female. And I'm seriously eager to know what she wants?!

  I leave her on the floor and turn my back to her. I have to break her spell somehow. But the knowledge that she's right behind me, and that I can see that face any time I'd like, just by turning around, fills my mind and makes me weak.

  I blindly busy myself with my spaceship's controls. When her helmet went transparent and I saw her face, it was as if I was struck by lightning. I even think I saw a blue flash! I definitively felt a tightness in the chest, a deep and painful tingling in my heart that told me that something special had just happened.

  Her being female wasn't it. I have often fought females, sometimes humanoids. I'll show any adversary the honor of killing them, regardless of species or sex or ... oh, the scared look in her dark eyes, as if she thought I was going to kill her with my swords, which I absolutely was but of course I never can now ...

  I shake my head. She's totally taking over my thoughts.

  Her presence behind me is entirely oppressive. I can't concentrate on my navigation.

  Her face has impressed itself on my mind and even with my back turned, I can picture it perfectly. Large, scared eyes that seem to be an unheard-of dark color, like dark brown on something similarly exotic. Immensely alien and beautiful, anyway. Round cheeks and a wide mouth with lips that have an alluring quality to them, with white teeth behind them that just show when she's looking at you and her lips are apart, as they might be just before a passionate kiss ...

  I have to grab onto the navigation console to steady myself. I yearn to turn around and look at her again, just drown in her beauty. But if I do it now, then my arousal will be very noticeable. My crotch is definitely swelling hard.

  I almost faint. Since when do I care if a female can see my arousal? Females are just entertainment centers for a man like me, just conquests and slaves to be enjoyed and then discarded. Their thoughts or opinions are of no concern, and whenever they see a male's physical excitement, then that will just prepare them for what is about to happen.

  Why do I feel that this one's opinion of me matters? That it is even of vital importance?

  I quickly turn my head and glance behind me, deliberately not looking at her face.

  I turn back to the console and swallow in a dry throat. Something in my crotch twitches and the fabric of my kilt jerks and waves in front.

  Such a female shape, even in that ridiculous space suit she's wearing. Round and voluminous, soft and still firm, so unlike my own warrior frame. I yearn to take her into my arms and tell her that everything will be fine, that she's mine now, that she's no longer in danger of dying at the hands of us Xar.

  Spirits, I need guidance. I will do a hyperjump to the Gyr system and land on my secret home planet. Surely the Tribal Mother can guide me in this. Is it witchcraft? Or an alien ruse? Or could it even be– no, I can't even think the thought.

  Yes. Guidance. For the first time ever, Brenaxx will need the guidance of the Tribal Mother.

  I twist the wheel for the median relativistic imprimator. I have to concentrate. Hyperjumps are extremely delicate, and the slightest error can plunge us into the heart of a star or might even strand us in empty space.

  I do an intake of breath as I notice what I'm thinking. Us?! Now I'm including an alien female in my manly warrior considerations?

  The stars around us flicker and I can see that the hyperjump has gone slightly wrong. We've emerged far too close to my secret planet Gyr, and the gravity is about to ruin the calculations, unless I can- “Aargh!”

  I roar as an immense pain shoots through my foot. Too late I remember that she did stab it back there on the moon. It had slipped my mind, and now she has snuck up on me. I can't let go of the controls now, and I kick out with the other leg, but not too hard – I don't want to harm her at all.

  I'm half relieved that I don't hit anything.

  "Fucking kidnapper!" And suddenly she's all over me, all bare fists and hard boots and sharp little elbows, pounding at me with a ferocity I approve of. And long, dark hair that just smells heavenly ...

  My orange planet is tumbling outside, and I have trouble keeping it in the crosshairs. I gently place one hand on the female's delectable chest and push slightly. On one hand I like having her this close to me, but on the other I have to realize that it isn't the planet that's tumbling, it's this ship.

  And it's spinning out of control fast.

  3

  - Dakota -

  I lie still on the floor while the pirate does something to some kind of alien dashboard. One part of the wall is transparent, and I can see space outside. We're travelling somewhere, and probably this ship is pretty impressive from a technical point of view. I see shiny metal and soft, white surfaces and pristine materials that I've never seen before.

  Not really the way I'd imagine a pirate ship. No cannon, no parrots, no barrels of rum. It looks pretty high tech. Of course I was never a tech or science buff, so it could really be an old alien school bus for all I know.

  I just lie there and breathe. The readout inside the helmet shows me that I can safely take it off. The atmosphere here is just like on Earth. Except there's a half percent more oxygen. Yay.

  I release the catches as quietly as I can and take a careful breath, ready to put the helmet back on if I smell something bad.

  I don't. It actually smells pretty nice. Dry and clean. Spicy. Manly, even. Yeah, that's probably him.

  But I don't care how great he smells. I'm not going to go quietly. He abducted me, he'll have to live with the consequences.

  From behind he's just as impressive as the front. Bulging muscles, that weird pattern of colors, a cute and round little butt in that kilt thing. He doesn't look like any pirate I've ever heard of. He's more like a futuristic viking. But I guess they were pirates too, in a way. Everyone calls these guys pirates, so I guess their pirate-ness is just pretty well hidden.

  He's totally turned on. I can see the shadow of the tent he's pitching under that loose fabric. The little glimpse I got of that package he's got there back on the moon makes me pretty curious to see it at full mast, so to speak. Because that was some alien shit right there. Alien and tempting. Bulges and ridges and- oh, whatever. He's a fine specimen, but he also think I'm his booty.

  I'm nobody's booty. I'm a space marine.

  I slide off my gloves. They're no good for what I'm planning.

  I grab my helmet in one hand and crawl fast the six feet between me and him, making sure not to make a sound. He's concentrating on something on that dashboard, but I don't think I have much time. The element of surprise is invaluable, as they teach us at space marine boot camp.

  Talking about boots, his is very vulnerable right now.

  I lift my helmet with both hands and slam it down as hard as I can, right at the spot on his foot where I stabbed him before.

  He roars and kicks, and then I attack with everything I've got. Which isn't much, just hands and feet. And some well-chosen insults. But I've had enough time in the combat ring back at base to know what
works. Eyes, crotch, kidneys. Do alien pirates even have kidneys?

  “Fucking kidnapper!” I yell and kick him in the crotch as hard as I can. He fends my kick off easily, just like swatting away a fly. He hardly glances as me. I can't reach his eyes, so I punch his arm instead, hoping that he keeps a vital alien organ there.

  Hm. I guess not.

  I launch a whole flurry of punches and kicks, but this situation is new. How do you fight someone who isn't fighting back? How do you feint and wave and duck if he isn't hitting you? No one's ever talked about that.

  “Alien scum! Filthy space hobo! Pirate loser!” I keep it up as best I can, punching and kicking, but all he does is gently keeping me at arm's length like you'd do to a cranky toddler.

  And what usually happens then is that the toddler gets tired.

  Fine. He's pretty immune to my insults. But he seems to care a lot about that dashboard. I take a clue from some toddlers I've known that could not stay away from my pad and swipe my hands across it fast, over what I can only assume are alien switches and controls. Some of the lights change.

  “El veteh!” His voice reverberates through the spaceship.

  Yeah, that gets a reaction. The pirate pushes me away, hard, and seethes something that sounds like swearing as he gets even busier with that dashboard.

  The ship jerks and tilts once or twice, and then I see a planet growing fast on the part of the wall that's transparent or a screen or something. And it's spinning.

  “That's weird,” I observe out loud. “Never saw a planet rotating that fast.”

  I've stopped hitting the pirate captain, because it wasn't doing much good.

  Now I'm starting to realize I might have bigger problems than just being kidnapped. That planet is getting closer pretty fast. And I don't think it's the planet that's spinning. It just might be us.

  Well, that's fine with me. Getting killed fast in a crash is better than being killed slowly on a vivisection table somewhere.

  I look around again. Hm. He doesn't actually seem to have a vivisection table. Or any medical equipment at all, now that I'm looking for it. But that doesn't really tell me anything. He might have been planning to sell me or something. And I'm pretty sure that he had some plans for me. Because that was a very large tent he was pitching there.

  I glance down. It's much smaller now, but not completely gone.

  The planet now fills the whole screen and the pirate is clearly fighting with the controls, swearing and seething. It doesn't look like he can save this. Whatever plan he had with me, I've ruined it. And maybe killed the pirate in the process.

  I'm dead too, of course. But I've known that since we were fighting back on that moon. I'm used to the idea by now. My affairs are in order, my whole squad is dead in action. Hey, I don't want to die. But for some reason, I'm at peace. And scared shitless at the same time.

  He looks over at me, and I meet his eyes. I don't know what to do, so I shrug. “Don't kidnap space marines, dude. We're bad news.”

  And then the fucker smirks.

  My heart does a somersault in my chest. We're plummeting towards a huge planet that we'll absolutely crash on, he's going to die, and still he has the coolness to smirk and run his gaze up and down my body like he's checking me out. Space marines are used to facing death. I guess maybe pirate captains are, too.

  He gives up the dashboard and takes a step towards me. I raise my fists again, although there doesn't seem to be much point to it right now.

  I'm distantly aware that this spaceship is on fire. On the outside, at least. The screen is full of blue flames, and there's a roar from outside that's only getting louder. I guess we're plummeting through the atmosphere of that planet like a meteor. I hope those who can see us from below are properly appreciative of the show we're putting on for them. But they probably only think we're an ordinary shooting star. If there even is anyone down there.

  The ship lurches and waves this way and that, and just when I think I can grab hold of the pirate captain, pull him in close and give him a knee in the crotch, I lose my balance and fall backwards.

  And I guess he can move like a snake, because suddenly he's behind me and catches me gently in strong arms.

  And he doesn't let go. I want to shake myself loose from his strong grip, but he just holds me gently from behind and easily avoids my elbows.

  Well, my heart isn't really in it. I just do it from principle. Because his arms feel good around me. Warm and safe.

  I want to laugh. Safe? In a pirate spaceship that's falling towards some kind of yellow planet like a rock? In the arms of the pirate captain himself? An alien pirate captain who probably has vivisectionists on speed dial? No one in history has ever been less safe than I am right now.

  Then I hear his voice. His mouth must be right by my ear, and still I can barely hear him over the roar and the whistling sound from the outside as the ship falls through the air at millions of miles an hour, probably.

  “Slah pah,” he says, and his voice is so deep and calm that it hits me in a tender spot in my soul I didn't even know I had. “Deh tagorb rah,” he continues. “Vel deehb rahfar kost.”

  “Um, okay. I'll take your word for it.” But his words work, and I calm down a lot and stop struggling against him. Because now it kind of feels like we're on speaking terms.

  His scent and his body heat and his slow voice kind of hypnotize me, and I even feel grateful that he's here. So I don't have to die alone, at least.

  I notice he's holding me with great care. I mean, he could easily have cupped my boobs or copped all kinds of feels from behind me. But he doesn't do that. A feeling of togetherness comes over me, and I guess it's something primal in me that makes me cling to him. I grab his forearms with both my hands, noticing that it feels like holding steel cables clad in warm, soft silk.

  Outside the screen or window or whatever it is, the flames are gone. Now all I can see is ground. Hard, rocky ground. I squint. How far away is it?

  “Holh dahfast,” the pirate says into my ear. I think he's saying farewell or something. Sure.

  “Yeah, goodbye,” I answer. “Can't thank you enough for this whole experience.”

  Well, sarcasm works for me right now. And then I just squeal. Because outside, I can see a small, round shadow zooming across the ground and I realize that it's our shadow. It's growing bigger so fast that at any moment we will meet the ground-

  There's an enormous bang and a jolt that shakes me almost out of the pirate captain's grip.

  Almost. He manages to hold onto me, and I help by screaming at the top of my lungs and digging my fingernails into his forearms.

  Then everything is silent for a second, and then there's another bang and I scream again. Still he holds on to me through another bang, and another. It feels like we're bouncing across the rocks now. I would have expected this whole ship to disintegrate, because it is a spaceship and any time it would need to resist bangs like these it would probably be cost effective to just let it dissolve. But I guess the builders wanted return business.

  The bangs stop and now I can feel that we're rolling like a wheel across a pretty uneven surface. Still the pirate holds me and still I kind of like his touch.

  Then we stop and the whole ship falls over to the side like a coin that's stopped spinning, except with a metallic creaking noise that no coin I've ever seen could make.

  It's suddenly very quiet. We lie still for a couple of seconds, and I can feel my own heartbeat in my whole body. A very fast heartbeat. I'm breathing hard, too.

  “Dahervee nedeh,” the pirate says into my ear, and it sure feels like he's sniffing my hair, too.

  Something is poking me in the butt and I think I know what it is.

  I yank myself loose from his grip and crawl a couple of feet away before I turn. He's reclining comfortably in some kind of alien seat and he's smirking at me. And yep, pitching a tent again.

  A part of me – a big, hot and moist part, truth be told – wants to explore that more
closely. I'm still alive, and it makes me both giddy and worried.

  I look around fast for weapons. Nope, just my helmet. His swords are fastened to some kind of holders on the wall behind him. I can't get to them.

  “So,” I say, very reasonably. “When do you plan to take me back to my base?”

  He gets up and slides his swords out of their holders and places them behind his back again, then kicks open some kind of hatch. White sunlight streams in, and it looks hot.

  He goes to the opening and gestures to me to follow him out. Well, I'm not sitting here on my own, so I do as he suggests.

  I stick my head out. Yeah. Hot. And sunny. There are at least three suns in the sky, and it feels like they're in some kind of competition about which one can shine the hardest.

  I slide back inside, out of the sunlight. I have to think.

  So. Here I am on an alien planet which

  1) is a desert and

  2) has an atmosphere and

  3) is hot as fuck on a stick.

  So we're not in Kansas anymore, probably. I glance out again. Three white suns? That solar system where we were attacked by the pirates had one, and it was so blue you kind of wanted to put an arm around it and tell it that everything was going to be all right.

  This broken spaceship took us far. Not Kansas at all. Not even Rhode Island, looks like. Could be Mexico. But yeah. The suns. Plural.

  Does anyone know I'm here? No.

  That was an easy one to answer. My whole company is dead. No one saw me being taken up by this guy. And no one knows of any mode of transportation that can send you to another solar system in a matter of seconds. Weeks, sure. But seconds? Um, no.

  Nobody knows I'm missing. Nobody has any idea where I am. Nobody will look for me.

  I'm stuck.

  The pirate sticks his head in through the door. “Bestam dukomh hernoh.”

  And then there's him. I see no reason to conceal it from myself any longer: He's hot as fuck and so confidently alpha just hearing his voice sends tingles down below. Space marines are alpha, sure. But this alien pirate captain? He's something else entirely. There's no swagger with him, no theater. This is who he is. He held me so securely during the crash that thinking back, it kind of warms my heart. He held me right, like he really cared.