ALIEN STORY – 14
Written by Juxian Tang
I don’t think I slept long. Maybe, twenty minutes and I opened my eyes in the darkness abruptly, without any trace of dreaminess in my mind. My mouth felt dry but even though I shivered I knew I was covered in a thin film of sweat. I lay for a little while, regulating my breath and realizing that I was again as far from sleep as I could be.
“Iver,” I called. “Iver, come here.”
I couldn’t see him from my bed when he was lying in his nest of blankets in the corner – even when it was light – I put his chair between him and me. I was not tying him while I left the room for quite a while already. I made it clear, you see, what would happen to him when/if he made his mind to annoy me – and I told him to repeat it, so, I think, he memorized it well. And I almost never heard him from his place; he was so soundless in everything, in his breath, in his movements. The only thing I caught now was a slight rustle and he got up without a word. I needed just to reach my hand to turn on the light but I didn’t want it. I waited for him to get to the bed, feeling a very minor push when he bumped at the foot of it. I shifted and grasped his upper arm, pulling him to me on the bed clumsily. We stirred both trying to get some place here and I started feeling him close.
Iver was so warm against me, every part of him – and I could sense every part of him, nothing shielded with any clothes – and so bony, his shape was angular, his shoulders when I wrapped my arm around him. It made my breath break, this feeling. For this week since the autodoc mended him I never tried to lie with him like that, I don’t know why. It didn’t come to my mind, probably. I mounted him, you see, oh, gee, it was a lot of sex, more than I ever had in my life – several times a day, actually.
I squeezed him. I mauled him so strongly that I felt some pain myself – and I had to hurt him, too, even though I didn’t want to hurt him right now, it was just that I tried to be closer to him.
“Iver,” I hailed him again. “Am I hard with you?” I didn’t let him any time to answer. “I know I am.”
Under my fingers I felt how his body became rigid when I started speak to him – and even though he slackened tangibly when I didn’t demand his reply I still felt the tiny contractions of his forearm muscles. His soft light hair was ticking on my face and on my lips and when I inhaled I smelled his fine scent, mostly of this blended water of the ship and of soap and only very slightly of his skin. He washed so much – every time he returned from the Darloxians he had his hair wet.
You know it didn’t always take the same time for them to bring me Iver back. I didn’t know why they spent longer time with him sometimes and I never asked. It was Neaf who usually came with him. If I walked out my dose by then it was better because I didn’t feel like being rough to him. When he happened to come earlier I sent him to his place so that he didn’t mess under my feet. He was so pale when Neaf was guiding him inside, almost greenish, and with his face so weary that he looked older than ever. It was because he was so smaller than them and he got tired to serve them, I knew. I wondered if it was every time that all of them used him and a couple of times I started formulating the question to Neaf – but it never went that far. They needed their privacy, you see, they didn’t ask me how I got my pleasure from him, right? His lids were sinking down and down again – and he didn’t have this weird expression of anxiety in his eyes, as if he was always guessing something about me.
For the last week there was no day when I missed a dose. Never in my life I used so often and I had already some pains breathing through the nose in the morning – as if the air was too sharp.
I reached my hand to his face. I knew I had my fingers wet but I couldn’t do anything about it. I felt his cheek and his lips. It was odd but I found so pleasant to do it in the darkness. Because I couldn’t see if there was something in his eyes – hatred or repulsion – and even if I tapped my fingers on his face I wouldn’t be able to recognize if he covered his emotions against me. Yes, I felt bitter – anyway, I knew it all was here, even though I didn’t see it – but at the same time there was some joy, too. I kissed his warm neck and felt my own breath reflected of his skin.
“Come on,” I whispered meaninglessly, “Here you are. Come to me.”
I thrust my tongue in his mouth and when Iver parted his lips to my intrusion I had the momentary urge again – pressing my mouth to his, crushing his lips against my teeth. I could do it, I did it a lot. That was the matter – I could do whatever I wanted – and he would have to accept it; but whatever I did he would hate it – and I knew it.
I turned to my side and rose on my elbow, closing to him, licking his tongue that responded to me – almost as if we were lovers. Well, I never had no real lover in my life, just whores – and him. I unhooked our tongues and moved my mouth, pecking the corner of his lips. The line of his jaw was hard under his smooth fine skin. I stretched my hand suddenly and put it to his eyes. I felt how his lashes flew down under my palm, tender and tickling like spider-web. He was not crying. I took his soft prick and slid my palm under his slightly moist balls.
“You dislike it so much, poor little man?”
There was no any sound of displeasure from him but I knew it. It was as if I was hurting him when I touched him there, however careful I strove to be. I almost couldn’t stand it – sensing his torment when I did it.
“Okay, okay,” I took my hand away. “Then you touch me. Come on.”
I was horny, of course – as he always made me. My dick was full of blood and stiff and it throbbed when Iver put his hand around it and moved it up and down slowly. I widened my thighs for him, letting him more access, wanting his hand on my balls. His tentative fingers were cold, even though he was not cold himself.
“You dislike it, too,” I exhaled. I bit the insides of my mouth because I hated to hear so much emotion in my voice. I felt him moving, trying to get up in order to take it in his mouth and I didn’t let him go. I had a blow job from him today, I fucked him today, too, I didn’t want it now, didn’t want to penetrate him in any way, even though he seemed to get used to it. I knew it didn’t hurt him any more when I fucked him. I stretched him so much, broke in his ass. Well, it was not the only thing I broke in him.
His hand enveloped my shaft again and glided on it. I felt him becoming more relaxed again – when I stopped asking him and he knew what I wanted from him. I grasped his face and his shoulders and kissed him, rough and fast, swallowing the salty blood that was in my mouth hastily. His hand warmed up a little on my cock but I still felt it very sharply, almost dizzy with the sensation. He worked over me diligently and my breath was so close to panting that I was choking.
When he heard it and felt some convulsive motions of my hips he stirred again. He was going to get my sperm in his mouth. I yanked him down. My load spurt through his fingers, right on the blanket, and it was so long, with his hand pressed around. He lingered tentatively, maybe, regarding if I wished him to stay like this and I freed myself from him. I was still climaxing dryly while trying to kick down the blanket with the wet spot. Iver was very quiet lying so close to me that he was almost nestled on my shoulder. I regained some breath.
“Speak to me,” it was wrong way – and as soon as I said it I knew it. I didn’t want his speaking. So many times for this week I barely caught these words before they could escape me. It was so stupid to say them now. I didn’t need his speaking. No more. I hated it. Oh, really, really, what could he say to me? Tell me more about his stupid silly life? It made me sick even recalling it. I shrugged. It took some time for me to realize that Iver was silent.
“You don’t want to?” I felt my mouth crooking awry. My voice flew up – but I couldn’t do anything about it and, frankly speaking, I didn’t try. “I know what you think. He cummed, what he wants else?”
There was something thumping in my chest, bigger than my heart and far more painful. I realized I dug my fingers in his arm already – and he didn’t flinch, he did nothing.
“You hate me,” I said it at last. It was like having a breath after long holding back. “Tell me how much you hate me!” he didn’t reply. Somehow I knew that he couldn’t reply – how would he dare? – but I couldn’t stop myself already. I jerked, dragging my numb arm from under his shoulders, rising over him. My palms were on his collar-bones – he was moist with sweat, I scared him. “I hate you! If you only know how much I hate you. I am afraid I’ll kill you some time!”
I lifted up my hand against his cheek twice, never touching him. I think he could feel the current of air from my palm – but it was too dark for me to see if he tried to turn away. I flopped down next to him, as if drained out.
“I ruined your career,” I chuckled. “You know, you shit? Even if you ever-ever return to whatever shitty place you worked at nobody will want you. You’ll never get your promotion, never! Nobody will want you, you know it, Iver? You are of no use!”
“Yes, sir, Darren, I know it, don’t worry,” at last he did speak. His voice didn’t betray him; not that much as I wanted to hurt him.
“You are dead, remember it! You don’t exist any more. The same as this stupid Morwen of yours is dead! Which one was she? This whorish blonde?”
“No,” there was a little surprise in his placid answer. “She’s a small woman, about thirty five. She lay right before me there, sir…”
“I don’t remember,” I cut him short. I wanted him to say something and he didn’t. “You have nowhere to go,” I grasped him sticking my fingers into his skin deeply and pulled closer.
“I am not going anywhere, sir.”
“If your parents die would you take your brother to yourself?” I asked quickly. There was some motion of him, I felt it under my chest pressing him to the bed. Iver said with a bit of amazement again:
“Why should they die? They are not old, nothing like that.”
“You wouldn’t, right?”
“I wouldn’t be able to take care about him, I am afraid, and work at the same time.”
“This Grefalla syndrome…” I felt like turning inside out the same moment I said it. “There were invalid kids on Thalassa who could have had it – or not. A girl my sister was messing around – she was handicapped, too, but she was lucid in her mind. She had her limbs unmoving – heavy as if made of lead. Once she dropped down from the bed – and there was no any teacher around and no kid wanted to help her. And Diane herself raised her and put her back.
“She left, this girl, with the first launch then,” I said. “She had her parents and they assured it. And Diane didn’t leave.”
I stopped feeling ill with some strange mix of emotions. It was rage, mainly, however. Against Iver, too, and against myself. Why for fuck’s sake was I telling it to him? How could he be interested in it? In my sister? I didn’t have to let him know about her at all. For a moment I saw her very white face glowing in the darkness – so clearly as I’ve never seen it during my dope sessions – cold and placid, with these long narrow eyes full of intensity – as it was when she said to me: “Do you want to see how much I love you?” – and then pressed her hand to the hot glass of the table lamp. And at the next moment everything dimmed, as if being switched off. I didn’t have any photo of hers – how could I remember her well?
“You let down your family, Iver,” I said slowly, carefully; only for a little while it seemed that I could control my temper.
Then I pushed him. He didn’t resist at all to what I was doing. I could flip him down from the bed easily – but at the same time I was holding him. It was like I was fighting over him with myself – and I heard my own noisy shallow breaths. My palms were so wet that they slipped.
“Oh, you bastard!” I shook him. I knew I was bruising him, with my knees and elbows printing into his flesh. “It’s all your fault, you don’t deserve to live, you know it, you don’t!”
I thrashed so violently that now we both were close to falling down. My fist hit the pillow at the side of his head. There were his hands close to my body – and I shook them off rudely.
“I know, sir,” Iver whispered. “I know, please.”
There was some strange quality in his voice – that made something to me always when he started speaking – and now I felt it again – and it hurt me but at the same time it shocked my nerves to the point of bluntness. I stopped speaking. My breath was caught somewhere in my chest. And then I felt his hand lying on my thigh. Burning cold; like steel covered with silk. I jerked. He moved his fingers.
He was groping for my crotch, I realized suddenly. His palm cupped on my limp prick, in a swift caress. He was brushing my pubic hair with his fingers. It made me almost convulse.
Ooh, surely, I was not so stupid to think that he suddenly fell in love with my privates so much. The dirty whore… he was thinking it was cheaper for him to bring me off than to wait whether I was going to hit him and how hard. I laughed. I felt crazed. I seized Iver's wrist – so tight that I could easily break it.
“Leave me alone, cunt. For God’s sake, leave me alone.”
His voice was small when he spoke again – trailing off for a spell of time – but he was saying hastily:
“It’s okay, sir, I won’t. Please calm down, it’s okay.”
I jammed his wrist again. I shook my head on the pillow mutely. I dragged his hand upwards and pressed it to my chest. It didn’t slide away when I let it go. I rubbed my fingers against the back of his hand.
“It’s okay, Darren,” he whispered again. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay, you know.”
His hand was patting me slightly, moving almost for millimeters under my palm. I knew I would see tomorrow how much I injured him – over the strange traces on his wrists and ankles he had after the sessions with my friends. There was no fury in me any more. I felt weak and enervated. Iver shifted lightly unwinding our messed arms – and his other hand touched my shoulder against the collar-bone. He said something else – maybe, the same – but so low that I couldn’t hear him – and it was alright. There was his breath on my neck and his minute birdie touches – like little pecks. I tossed my head right and left and I felt my face creasing.
I thought he was sleeping when I got up after some hours – but when I came out of the bathroom there were his dark eyes hypnotizing me in the flow of light – so huge in the dark pits of his sockets. Even though I was not in the bed any more he still took as little place as he could there.
“I’ll bring the breakfast,” I said. “You may stay here.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I shrugged; I felt awkward saying it:
“Or you can go to your place – if you want,” I didn’t wait for him to do anything before I left.
It was quite silent on the ship – too early in the morning for anybody else to wake up. I took some meal for us and was going back when Neaf emerged out of his door.
“Morning, brother.”
“Morning,” I had a wide smile plastered on my face seeing him though I felt I had problems with breathing again.
“Feeding your pet?”
“Yeah,” there were some things on my tray and two cups.
“Want to have breakfast with me?”
I nodded. I liked to spend time with him – and in his room, not in the crew quarters. He beckoned me inside. He was not sleeping for a while already, I saw – there were some objects on his table for work and his plate with jelly, too. I sat down on my chair and he settled in front of me. I don’t remember what we chatted while eating and then I took his three darts arrows and tried to throw them – not very successfully. Neaf brought them to me back.
“You have to train, brother,” when he did it every one went right in the bull’s eye. I laughed, too. It hurt to laugh more than just to speak and I think I frowned a little.
“Do you feel alright?”
I didn’t like him speaking like that, it made me feel as if I was weaker than really – as weak as I was then, when he took care of me.
“Yes.”
“You don’t look alright. You are sure?”
“Nothing,” I shrugged. I didn’t like the conversation. I turned away from him, facing the wall covered with the photos. I threw one more arrow – so awkwardly that it hit the glass of one of them. It didn’t scatter – but there was a long splinter on it.
“Oh, Neaf, I am sorry!”
“Don’t worry, brother, it’s nothing,” I knew it was something – he loved his photos so much – and I felt ashamed. I couldn’t look back at him. “It’s nothing. I worry about your health only.”
“I am alright!” I was going to scream. “Alright, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” he said pacifying me. “I know, my Darren. By the way, it’s intriguing how you people are made,” I felt he was going to change the subject. There was a puzzled expression in his voice. “You seem so fragile – and still you are so reliably made. Your pet, look, he is even smaller than you – and yet he can take so much. He can take my tentacle inside right till this place without any damage.”
In the shining glass of the broken photo I saw his distorted reflection with his tentacle pointing to the place on his other limb at what seemed to me about half a meter point.
“What?”
It was distorted, of course. It was not like that. I mean, I had to get him wrong what he wanted to say.
“Without any damage,” Neaf repeated thoughtfully. “He is so warm inside, it is pleasant. He is not so warm nowhere outside.”
I turned to him slowly. His tentacles were still crossed in the same position, his third pair, slim ones – but it was like I saw it, the reflection didn’t change it. My mouth was very dry and when I wanted to speak – when I tried – I couldn’t do it at once, I couldn’t swallow, you see. Neaf only noticed my intention and his face took his usual attentive expression. I flickered my eyes to it – I couldn’t take them from his tentacles.
“You mean…” I started. I cut myself short. I couldn’t ask it this way, I couldn’t ask him if he meant he fucked him with his tentacle. The size was incredible. And… but why should he have done it? What for? It just couldn’t be so. I felt close to throwing up.
“It was an interesting idea,” Neaf went on rather absent-mindedly. “When Hurlock suggested it I never thought I would enjoy it.”
“You do enjoy it?” I repeated unable to find other words.
“We think it delightful,” he answered seriously. “His throat doesn’t take it this deep, no, not at all, and he couldn’t stand it more than a minute without choking. And I told the guys to be careful with it because if he dies he dies – and he is yours, I would never let anybody deprive you from him.”
It felt like my blood was frozen in my veins. I was alive – and I breathed and all – but I stopped feeling myself, worse than how I felt numb after a dose. I kept silent – and Neaf went on, thinking probably that I was encouraging him.
“The amusing thing about giving it to his throat is that he sometimes has erection then. If to do it right way and carefully, of course. It is such a fine little thing – his penis, I would like to play with it in its erected position for a while – but he always lose it too soon. And do you enjoy making him erect?” he asked with interest.
“No.”
Several seconds he waited giving me time to develop this topic and as I didn’t procede he sighed.
“Too bad that his urination orifice is too small for anything,” he said and then he spilled in laughter suddenly. “Hurlock put his stinger there yesterday and it was so funny how your toy was scared. He thought Hurlock would sting him.”
I couldn’t breath again. There was too little air for me. The only thing I felt was the keen edge of the darts arrow against my palm and I pressed it deep into my leg under the table.
“His voice is not strong,” Neaf continued, “and he seems to lose it when he is scared. Sometimes I even can’t discern what he is saying.”
Now I felt the tickling sensation of fluid crawling on my skin and I took the arrow out and pressed it again, near. Neaf was standing with his tentacle under his chin, his mouth still stretched in a thoughtful smile.
“I thought he sucked you,” I said dully. I didn’t try to cover any expression in my voice – but it came out itself.
“Oh, yes, sure,” Neaf animated again. “The baby pet does it. Not properly, of course, but, my Darren, you shouldn’t be angry with him, it is not his fault. If he could open his mouth wider without tearing it he would serve us better, I am sure. I told it to Hurlock and others. He is not a bad pet. And so nice to play with. The hours with him just fly!”
So, that was the answer, even if I didn’t ask - why. Play. It was still too slow in coming to me. I rubbed the wet material of my pants where I stuck the arrow.
“And you play with him in some other ways, too?” it was a feeble voice and only Neaf with his attention to me could hear it.
“Yes, brother, sometimes. We put the leg of the chair into him, you know. It is just for fun, it was not tactically pleasant, well, except when he is shivering so lovely. We used the pliers, too. Oh, but don’t worry, I am always on alert, my Chthri. He never was torn. No more scars. Scars are not nice. And we tried the cables but they are too smooth, he doesn’t feel them enough any more.”
“And did you bruise him?” my voice was placid. I was not sure before, I thought, maybe, it was me so rough to him.
“Oh, did we?” Neaf frowned curtly. “Your little thing copes passably when it needs to lick it from the floor. But if somebody cummes to his mouth he gets it wrong way as often as not. He couldn’t breath appropriately after Soyii, so, we had to press on his belly a little.”
I buried the arrow deep in my thigh again. It helped me. I was silent. I listened.
“You know, he cannot practically swallow if he is hanging head down,” Neaf added. “His eyes become so wild in this position. I like to ejaculate on his face.”
The End of Part 14
Well, people… This is the end of it. I am sorry. Ruthless ditched the project and I couldn't do it alone. The only thing I can say: if you are interested, I can send you the synopsis of what we planned to write. So that you at least know what happens to the guys in the end :-)
Let me know at juxiantang@hotmail.com and I'll be pleased to tell you what it had to be.
Thanks again for reading it!
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