Starmen

by Raven Willow-Wood

  Rapture engulfed him as her body continued to milk him of his seed, the explosion so powerful it not only rocked him, it dragged a hoarse cry from him. Almost the moment his body ceased to convulse, he sank into a euphoric semi-conscious haze, collapsing weakly on top of her, too drained of energy even to consider moving.

  Time seemed to stand still. Slowly, his heart rate and breathing returned to normal, however, and his brain began to function again.

  When it did, something occurred to him that hadn't in the heat of the moment. The Slephlurr hadn't put her to sleep as it was supposed to. It had had a wholly unexpected effect on her, and if that was the case then neither could he count on the Slephlurr producing the memory loss it generally did.

  Thoroughly roused now, Vincent pushed himself up and looked down at Jo-dy. She'd either lost consciousness from the sedative, finally, or, more likely, she was sleeping the sleep of the sated. Ordinarily, the last thought would have pleased him. At the moment, it didn't.

  When he rolled off of her, his first thought was to look around for his co-conspirator.

  Miroc lay sprawled on his back, the woman on top of him, his face a perfect picture of a moronic bliss, which told its own tale even if not for the fact that the woman was still mounted on his shaft.

  At least he wasn't the only one in deep shit, Vincent thought irritably as he got to his feet with an effort.

  It occurred to him after a moment that maybe he still wasn't exactly thinking straight. Miroc was out like a light. He wasn't exactly a credible witness to his crime. He'd probably had been too busy to notice what he was doing.

  Just on the off chance that the Slephlurr actually had worked as it usually did, he stalked over to the transporter area, snatched his loincloth up, and put it on.

  The woman, he saw when he returned, was dripping ‘evidence'.

  Maybe Miroc wouldn't notice that, though.

  Shrugging, he nudged Miroc with his toe.

  Miroc snorted and swatted at his foot. “You do beat all, you know that Miroc?” Vincent growled. “All that whining about doing time for making contact, and then you go and fuck the woman?"

  Miroc struggled and finally managed to open one eyelid a fraction of an inch. After staring at Vincent blankly for several moments, he looked down. Both of his eyes popped open and his shoulders came up off the floor.

  Shaking his head, Vincent leaned down casually, lifted Jo-dy's limp form from the floor and tipped her over his shoulder. Straightening, he headed toward his private quarters at the back of the ship.

  Once inside his cabin, he laid her down gently on the soft folds of his sertese, watching it mold to her body, memorizing every inch of her. Unable to resist, he leaned over her, his hands on either side of her face, taking in the sweetness of her expression. He wondered how this amazing woman could still shine so beautifully after having endured so much at the hands of her own kind.

  The desire to kiss her came to him suddenly, almost overwhelming in its intensity. Slowly, agonizingly, he moved closer to her slumbering form, until his whole body was a mere tantalizing breath away from her. If he took a deep breath, his chest would caress hers. His exposed nipples hardened at the thought, and his cock began to pulse back to life. Traitor, he thought of his cock. He swallowed convulsively, realizing that for perhaps the first time in his life he was nervous, unsure of how this woman was affecting him, and she was doing it all in her sleep.

  This woman is probably desired by every man on her planet. She has almost certainly known the loving caresses of many. And what a body to caress. Disconcerted at the direction his thoughts were heading, he stopped just short of pressing his now very needy body against her luscious figure.

  What was he doing?

  He remained perfectly still for several moments, battling the temptation to keep going. One side of his mind was saying, go ahead! You're already screwed! The other reminded him that he wasn't absolutely certain he was screwed—yet.

  Sighing with a mixture of irritation and disappointment, he pushed himself up and away from her sleeping form and left his cabin.

  It was a crying damned shame he couldn't count on the Slephlurr erasing her memory of the events just prior to blackout. If he'd thought for one moment she wouldn't remember.... He killed the thought abruptly. He couldn't just callously dump her back among her own people, not after all they'd done to her, even if it meant saving his hide. He was going to have to think of something else.

  He bumped into Miroc in the corridor, who was just coming out of his own cabin. Something teased at his mind, and he frowned thoughtfully, trying to jar it loose as he headed back into the main cabin and plopped down in his seat at the table they used for dining and work.

  Miroc, looking a good bit worse for wear, dropped into the chair opposite him, staring glumly at the table top as if he could see the germs crawling across it.

  Dropping his elbow onto the table top, Vincent propped his chin on his fist and studied his colleague. “Miroc, you haven't by any chance been fucking around with the genetic properties of the Slephlurr, have you?"

  Miroc had glanced up at him when he'd called his name. At that, his eyes widened fractionally. He looked down at his hand almost immediately, studying his cuticles with frowning concentration. “No, why?"

  Vincent began drumming the fingers of his other hand on the table top. “Just curious. I've never heard of the stuff having such an effect on anybody, and I'm damned if I can see anything about Jo-dy that leads me to believe she's that different from us."

  Miroc shrugged. “Maybe it's an anomaly."

  "In the plant?"

  "Uh, yeah."

  Vincent's eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You sure you didn't get bored and decide to do a little experimenting with the Slephlurr?"

  Miroc slammed both palms against the table top and stood up abruptly. “If you're going to accuse me of something, I don't see why you don't come right out and say it! I'm in a world of shit already, man. Give it a rest, will you?"

  Vincent studied his friend with interest, trying to tap the sense of relief threatening to well to the surface.

  Miroc hadn't noticed. Now, all he had to do was something creative with the ship's security recorder and he was home free.

  "All right, fine. If you say you weren't screwing with it, I'll take your word for it, but I still think it's damned strange."

  Miroc ground his teeth in frustration. “I messed with it! Ok? Happy now? And now I'm screwed."

  "If you'd told me that to start with we could've avoided all this, but you just let me think I was sedating them."

  "As if I could think with them making that racket! I had clean forgotten about the tests. Besides, as far as I could tell, it really hadn't changed anything. It's not like I had something to test it on."

  Vincent studied his friend thoughtfully. “Was she good?"

  "Shut up!” Miroc growled.

  Vincent stood up, patting his friend on the shoulder consolingly. “Never mind. We'll think of something. We always do, don't we?"

  Miroc looked at him with a mixture of surprise and hopefulness. “You'd ... help me out of this?"

  Vincent gave him a look. “Hey! We're best buds! Of course I'll help you out! What are friends for?"

  Miroc looked so relieved Vincent felt just a little guilty, but he'd promised he would help him out, and he would. There was no sense in both of them being so bummed out that they couldn't think straight. If nothing else, worse case scenario, Miroc might need somebody on the outside of the prison that was on his side.

  After trying without a lot of success to rake his fingers through the tangled mess of his long black hair, Miroc scrubbed his hands over his face tiredly. “I need to get cleaned up."

  "Sure. I'll just give this all some thought and see what comes to mind."

  "You're not going to set a course for home?"

  "Now? I think we better consider other options before we think about doing that—leave that as a last resort. We're not due
to check in yet. That gives us a little time to think up alternatives. Before—you know—I figured we could probably get out of anything serious, considering the circumstances. This is a whole other problem."

  Miroc studied him for several moments and finally sighed resignedly. “I'm not really comfortable with the idea of getting you more involved than you are already. This could be—really unpleasant, especially if we try to cover it up and they find out we covered it up."

  "Forget it. I'm not going to let you go down for this if I can help it, not when we were trying to play good Samaritan and it just went badly. Our motives were pure. Just remember that."

  * * * *

  Just a kiss. It won't wake her. Vincent brushed a kiss on her feathery soft lips, an electric impulse shooting through his body, engorging the flesh of his cock, which now pressed against the juncture of her thighs. Jody moaned wantonly in her sleep, her body lurching toward his member with a will all its own. It was his undoing. He stifled a moan of his own with a soft kiss on her lips as his large hands began to expertly explore the soft curves of the woman that still lay intoxicated in his bed. His heart beat like thunder in his chest, his body suffused with an unusual warmth. He wrapped one large hand around her right breast and felt her nipple harden under his gentle administrations. He bent his head to her breast and gently suckled on her nipple. Jody's body arched again, thrusting her breast more fully into his mouth. Vincent growled his pleasure at her body's responses to this touch. Jody's firm full breasts began to bounce wildly as she tossed and turned on the bed under him. He tasted her now completely, and Jody's moans became increasingly louder, her womanhood now writhing agonizingly against his cock. Vincent needed more, wanted more, he had to have more of this intoxicating woman. Vincent gently cupped her sex with his hand, the warmth of her womanhood and it flowing juices igniting all the senses in his body. He moaned again at her body's reaction to his touch, his cock so hard now it felt almost to the point of bursting with need. He moved over her then, gingerly nibbling the nape of her neck, leaving a trail of kisses on her breasts as he slowly caressed the bud of her womanhood with the swollen glistening head of his cock. Jody cried out in pleasure at the touch and thrust herself quickly upon him, taking him in fully. Vincent groaned with her, the pleasure of their union almost too much for him. He moved quickly now, their bodies finding a tempo together. The sweet fury of their lovemaking was loud and violent, hard and pumping, all-consuming. Jody screamed out her fulfillment, bringing Vincent climaxing to his own. He lay exhausted on top of her then. The sweet perfume of her hair relaxing him. He could still feel his member beating inside her, thrumming with pleasure as the walls of her sex continued to clench spasmodically. He looked at her sweet form for a long time before finally drifting off to sleep, their bodies still joined, a perfect match.

  Chapter Three

  What a kick ass dream Jody thought with a sleepy grin as she began to wake up, stretching languidly. Oh, if only a gorgeous man like that really did want a woman like me. Opening her eyes, she discovered that the room was dark. It must still be really early in the morning, she thought to herself. She flung her right arm over the side of the bed and blindly searched for her bedside table and lamp. “Where is that light?” she mumbled a little irritably, still groggy from sleep. Suddenly light flooded the room before she could finish her search. It was then that she noticed with more than a small amount of alarm a heavy weight on her stomach. As she looked down at herself in confusion, she discovered it was the large golden muscular arm of a man. Turning in shock, she found the man of her dreams in the bed beside her, still in his birthday suit, his arm slung protectively over her. Then, to her further horror, she noticed that she, too, was naked. It wasn't a dream. Everything had really happened, and, judging from the soreness of breasts and her sex, it had been just as good as she had dreamt it was.

  Jody very nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a very soft snore next to her. Easing his arm off of herself very carefully, so as not to disturb him, Jody crept out of bed, ready to make a run for it, after she found something to cover up with. She discovered clothes in a neat little pile on the floor beside the bed—probably his, not that she cared—and rushed to get dressed. It was a jumpsuit, she discovered with a mixture of surprise and relief—not a loincloth, not that she would've quibbled over getting at least the bottom half covered, but it was a hell of a lot better to have something that covered her all over—more than covered her. The sleeves were way too long and so were the pant legs. She had to roll both up.

  Looking frantically around the room for an exit when she'd finally adjusted the suit and figured out how to close the opening, she discovered what could only be the door. Stepping over to the round, gray, one-dimensional spot on the wall, she studied it quizzically for a moment, trying to determine just how it opened, when it did just that.

  Unnerved by the way the thing had opened when she didn't even see a motion sensor, Jody cautiously thrust her hand through the large opening first, testing to make sure that it wouldn't close just as quickly as it had opened and injure her in the process. Satisfied that it would stay open as long as she stood next to it, she stuck her head out only far enough through the newly created hole in the wall so that she could look around to be sure there was no one outside. Relieved when she saw no one, she stepped quickly through the portal and followed the short corridor to the helm of the ship, an area covered with interesting looking gizmos, lights, and switches that she vaguely remembered having seen when she first appeared on the spacecraft.

  After staring thoughtfully at the alien flight controls for a minute, an idea began to formulate in Jody's head ... a attempt to call for help. Maybe I can contact someone on Earth. But as she looked at the numerous dials and gadgets, she realized she didn't have the slightest clue as to the function of any of them.

  So what was she going to do? Nothing? She'd been kidnapped! Her and Berny both. She might not have a very clear idea of what had happened, but clearly they'd been taken.

  Holding her breath and saying a little prayer, she summoned all the courage she possessed and grabbed the closest thing to her, a handle-like protrusion from the “dashboard” of the ship. Too late she discovered she had chosen the wrong thing.

  All hell broke loose. Lights, sirens, and an electronic voice issuing warning reports—she knew—went off all around her. The ship began to plummet from it's set course through space and toward Earth, far, far below. Jody caught herself as the ship lurched, pitching her sideways, by holding onto the control table. Unfortunately, the stick didn't seem all that well seated in the control panel. It came off it her hand.

  A sickeningly loud thud and a very ominous male roar erupted from the room she had just exited moments before.

  Vincent didn't get the chance to bail out of his bunk as the alarms woke him. The ship abruptly bucked like a wild merik, pitching him out onto the floor. Scrambling to his feet, he stormed furiously through the portal of his cabin and into the control room to discover Jody still desperately clutching the remnants of the ship's cruise control. She dropped it when she saw the thunderous expression on his face, her now free hand flying to cover her lips in shock.

  "Uh oh,” Jody said as apologetically as she possibly could.

  "What have you done?” Vincent shouted, racing over to where she was standing and snatching up the broken cruise control off of the floor. After staring at it in stupefaction for several moments, he shook it at her, a murderous scowl contorting his features, “What have you done?"

  "I'm sorry,” Jody spat out, terrified they were all going to be killed and suddenly filled with anger at his response to the situation, “but it's your fault. You shouldn't have brought me here in the first place, then this wouldn't have happened.” She furiously placed her hands on her hips and jutted her chin at him defiantly.

  Vincent glared at her, resisting the urge to throttle her. He didn't have time for the aggravating Earth woman at the moment. Right now he needed to concentrate o
n the crisis at hand.

  Miroc, having also been thrown abruptly from the comfort of his sertese, appeared a moment later at Vincent's side, his fingers deftly traveling over the board, too caught up in assisting Vincent in saving the ship and their lives to ask questions.

  To Jody's immense relief, the ship finally began to balance out, and the flashing lights and warning signals ceased. The sudden silence soon became deafening to Jody's ears, however, as Vincent and Miroc took a moment to assess the damage and discuss how to deal with it.

  "By Methusala's teeth you handled that well, my friend! But now I need you to handle things for a stretch,” Vincent said, pulling Miroc into a warm embrace and patting him heartily on the back for a job well done. He turned then to the source of all the trouble, a thunderous expression on his face.

  Until she saw that look, Jody had been prepared to defend her actions, but all thoughts of talking quickly evaporated, a lump of worry forming in her throat. Regardless of the butterflies in her stomach, though, she maintained a calm cool exterior as he stalked over to her.

  "Come with me.... Now,” Vincent said in a tone that brooked no argument, clamping his large, rough hand securely around Jody's wrist. She followed mutely, not daring to provoke him further, not knowing what he might do, what he was capable of.

  Vincent led her back to his room. “Sit,” he said curtly, emphasizing the order with a pointing, still shaking finger.

  As surprised as she was to find him speaking English instead of the unintelligible language he'd been speaking before, the menace in his voice killed any desire to argue with him over his highhandedness.

  In point of fact, she didn't really think about it. He said sit and her knees gave out, dumping her on the bunk she'd so lately abandoned and staring at him uneasily as it dawned on her that he'd wanted privacy to discuss her transgression.