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Good night.

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It was not like you planned on anything happening. It just did. Not that you are complaining of course. Okay you are a bit sore but it was worth it for the night of your life last night. You had never before known such tenderness and passion. Had anyone told you that you would one day find yourself hiding from a demonic cherub in a bunch of dream bubbles filled with dead aliens who are visited by alive ones in their sleep, you would have laughed in their face. If they told you that you would then find yourself in love and losing your virginity with an alien, you would have peed your pants. But they would have been right.

Out of all the trolls you had met here in the bubbles, he was the one you had the least interaction with in the beginning. It just seemed at if you and he didn't click as well as the others. He was handsome and something about him gave you butterflies but he didn't really speak to you. You didn't even know if he had noticed you. From his viewpoint, he didn't know what to make of you and didn't understand what made you tick nor why he felt so strange around you but he did think you were beautiful even for a weird (s/c) alien. Occasionally he would notice you walking around or bending down to fetch something and the most wicked thought would flick through his mind but he pushed it away. You were human. He was a troll. It wouldn't work.

Then you found yourselves along together one day and after a long awkward silence, you took a deep breath and talked to him. You actually ended up having an enjoyable chat. He even made you laugh. Over time you found yourselves turning up in the same places together, and sharing similar interests. Your small talk had turned into full conversations. He acted so differently with you than with anyone else. He was comfortable and calm which often caught the attention of the others amused by your effect on him. He became your favourite companion.

He also became protective over you and treated you like a delicate flower that would wilt in his troll grip, not allowing anyone to hurt you. He would physically hold onto you sometimes, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into him. You were all too familiar with the curve of his side as you would regularly find yourself slammed into it at the slightest hint of trouble, a face full of troll arm pit. But you didn't mind. It was nice that someone cared about you. You began to trust him. You told him everything troubling you and he would confide in you in return. Some of the female trolls would giggle at your "obvious paledom" but strangely this hurt you both. You had seemed to both settle for a pale relationship while desperately wanting more in secret. Your feelings had built up from nothing to an intense longing for each other, unaware that your flushed feelings were shared by the other.

Then it happened. After the huge tavern party to celebrate the final endgame, you both found yourselves alone together after everyone had dispersed. He didn't take his attention off you once during the night. At one point when you were telling a rather amazing story about your old life, his hand stroked your hair out of your face as you spoke. You were not used to such tender physical contact. After a life of rejection and living in fear, it was overwhelming to be shown any affection. Driven by adrenaline and a large amount of caffeine from the sodas you had been pouring down your neck, you kissed him on the lips and immediately pulled away covering your eyes in horror at your actions. He looked at you surprised before a smile crept around his face as his pulled your hands away and kissed you back leaving you a quivering confused mess. He eventually pulled back with a grin that suggested you were in trouble. The good kind but still you were in for it. You were very surprised when he threw you over his shoulder and made his way to your hive. That was how the night began.

He practically tore off every piece of clothing you had on when you made it through the bedroom door. Bits of fabric decorated the room in his desperate attempt to take you. You told him you were nervous as it was technically your first time. He promised to be gentle… to begin with. That sounded worrying and yet exciting. While you both had a basic understanding of each other's anatomy, it was very different seeing it in the flesh. The fact he had a tentabulge didn't surprise you but the size was bigger than you expected. It was also thrashing wildly, twisting around your fingers and wrist as you touched him. He was in awe over your naked body… you noticed the thrashing increased tenfold as his ran his hands all over you, determined to discover everything about you. You would have asked him to explain more about how to please him but in his excitement, he practically had you hanging upside down as he deeply inhaled the juices flowing from what he called your nook and exclaimed you smelled as sweet as grubberry juice. Lowering you down before the blood rushed to your head, he began to explore you from the inside, working out where best to touch you, completely awestruck with every squeak you made as he found all the right places. Your whimpers and pleads for him to slow down only made him speed up which made you bite down on your hand so hard, you broke the skin.

Before you fell over the edge, he released you from his hands only to enter you himself. The movement of his tentabulge hit every nerve, expanding you further for him to fill more space until he was all the way in. You didn't know if it was his first time or if you were last of a long list of lovers but he seemed to know what he was doing and boy, was he enjoying himself doing it. The first time he brought you to orgasm, he took it slow but with deep thrusts, insisting you looked at him the whole time, his gaze refusing to leave you just at it had earlier. It was so exposing, watching every expression on his face knowing he could see the pleasure on yours as you became undone for him. His hips moved in circles that pushed you deep into the firm mattress as you whimpered him name, earning at first a sly chuckle but as you both began to move with each other, your name was all he could repeat back.

After this, the gentle lover routine went out of the window. He was suddenly a troll possessed. It was as if he felt he would lose you any second so he was determined to get a lifetime of hard fucking out of you. Just as you would get your breathe back, you would feel a hand on your arm or ankle as you were flipped over and it started again. You became used to the sweet favour of his bulge as he held your head. You became used to the probing tip of his tentacock, pushing roughed into your soaked pussy or asshole. You loved it. No one had ever looked at you twice before and now someone wanted every inch of your body, was screaming your name, and cumming at your mere touch. His claws dug into the flesh of whatever he could get hold of - your buttocks, thighs, breasts. It hurt but you didn't care as long as he meant he could keep pounding into you the way he was. He demanded each time you declared your love for him. He punctuated every word of desire for you with a heavy thrust, telling you that you were his and his alone and he was going to claim every inch of you until you desired no other. You discovered a lot about each other in those long amazing hours. How his horns were so sensitive and he would growl when you touched them. How much softer your body was compared to trolls, particularly your breasts and ass which he enjoyed fucking mercilessly to the point of bruising. How amazing a tentabulge felt, always lubed and moving, guaranteeing an orgasm every single time. He was surprised actually when you told him that apparently human women don't always get to cum. This may have been your downfall as he was then determined you came at least twice before he had his own fun. He wanted to ensure you wouldn't think about leaving him for another.

The night is over and in the light of the dawn, you go into the bathroom and decide have a quick shower due to the brightly colored genetic material now marking your thighs, breasts, and stomach. You wonder if you should empty your wastepaper bin which made for a makeshift bucket all night. You still have no idea about that protocol. Seriously, does he have to take it home with him? Do you have to keep half? Best not to think about that. The thing is practically over flowing and you had a certain sympathy for it being filled to the brim with cum. This makes you chuckle. You examine your marks. Nothing permanent. They look a bit sore but you are proud of them. It's like he signed you with his personal mark. You re-enter to bedroom to grab a t-shirt and a pair of panties. He is still sleeping. His feet are dangling off the bed. Even the shortest troll in the bubbles towers over you. He is so peaceful and adorable with a huge smile on his face. You feel a little guilty about the scratches all over his chest and shoulders but you recall at the time, he did anything but complain. In fact it seemed to encourage him.

You don't want to wake him else you will be fucked at least dozen times before breakfast and then there would be a serious risk you will need a wheelchair for the rest of the day, that is if you can sit down at all, but you feel a desperate urge to rejoin him, to nuzzle into that grey chest and drift back off to sleep, listening to his heartbeat. You carefully climb back onto the bed and move to rest your upper body on his stomach but… damn those grubscars! You forgot about them. You soon find yourself straddling him as he gives you a cheeky smile, then a frown because you are now covered up. He tells you that isn't going to do and pulls the shirt back off you. He remarks on the improvement as a finger traces lines around your nipples. He is very taken by them. They were a pleasant surprise to him when they were revealed. So reactive and cute. You can feel his tentabulge stroking the back of your underwear, the tip flicking at the lace band. You try to distract him by asking if he wants any breakfast but he just grins and winks. The back of your panties are damp from rubbing. You lean forward pressing your body into his for a kiss. He takes the opportunity to slide a hand into your underwear, cupping a butt cheek.

He asks you if you are sore. You shrug and tell him that sure, you will not be going for a run any time soon but you are not complaining. You hear a rip as his fingers move around the bands of your panties and then tear the fabric off. You protest that you just put those on. He chuckles and remarks that it is your own fault for thinking he was done with you. You try to sulk but end up just giggling as he pulls you into his chest. He sighs contentedly and informs you that you have about 15 minute before he plans to have you again. You snort and ask him if he ever gets tired. He says that with you, never. The only thing he is tired of is pushing down his feelings for you for so long. Now you are his matesprit, he will love you forever.