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A Better Party / Fear of the Unknown

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It was probably true that he had always had it to some extent. Fear of the unknown. But everyone had that. What is the unknown? What does it intend? How can it change us, even if only our perception of ourselves is altered? Dastardly.

But as Charles stripped his shirt off and revealed raw strange skin he felt not fear, but something else. He was certainly looking at the unknown. Charles’ body was unfinished-looking and worn both at once, like the desk Grawl worked at.

Their glasses were in the next room, abandoned at the table, one empty and one half-full. He hadn’t visited the alien’s quarters for this purpose. Not that he wasn’t curious at some point throughout the hunt, what was underneath that suit. And certainly his heart pounded a little harder against his grubnacks at the thought, but he was more concerned about the safety of the world, and more importantly the nation.

He wore colors. The flag of his country, Grawl would learn. That first night when the sun went down and he found the astronaut sitting with his head rested on one knee. The gawky kid and his friend were dancing around the yard. The astronuat watched them silently. He picked up a handful of grass and let it drift to the ground.

He’d shed his outer suit for an odd long shirt and underneath Grawl was surprised to find his shape was more similar to theirs than he’d realized. Not as alien as he’d imagined. The more he looked at him the more similarities he could spot between their species.

The first night he had stayed with the gawky kid, who felt responsible or something. Really, Grawl was the one responsible, but no one seemed interested in talking about that. Like he never existed.

Was part of being a general knowing that his word had authority and meaning, and his orders were to be carried out and not forgotten? It was that and it was other things. It was his father’s hand striking the back of his head. It was the silence of an empty kitchen.

After a few weeks Baker had an apartment, or so you could read in the papers. If the universe was as big as humans claimed a lot of emergency protocols needed to be changed. And the weapons. There was no much lacking. Even an alien as harmless as the human had managed to evade him for days, even escape captivity.

That might have been what brought him to the alien’s apartment, had him knocking on the door. Of course the man invited him in.

And the glasses found their way to the table. And their shirts found their way to the floor. Grawl found himself against the kitchen countertop. Fooegriel green, laminate. He scrabbled for his chest divide--already fluid was swirling inside, he could feel his walls contracting reflexively.

But Baker pulled down his pants right as Grawl’s seam was splitting open and--humans didn’t have seams. Grawl made a choking sound in the back of his throat.

“How do yo--you don’t--” he started. No. That wasn’t how he wanted to sound. He needed to be commanding. Firm. Sturdy and hard like rock. The human had an appendage hanging out though. Grawl blinked. He pushed his hair back out of his eyes, snagging his antennas as he did. Baker advanced forward, a wall of menacing off-color muscle. That appendage was changing, taking on a firmer appearance, darkening. The tip of it glistened with clear liquid. Not unlike the liquid already dripping down Grawl’s thighs.

He let out a soft shudder as Baker’s hands found his hips. Five fingers, but each was softer, more dexterous than his own.

“So that explains the no pants thing,” Baker murmured. Grawl took a firm grip of his shoulder.

“What the fuck are pants.”

“Well these--” Baker slid his hand up Grawl’s thigh, stopping when he let out a half-stifled moan. “We have to cover up.” And he just waited like that, smirking, eyes locked with Grawl.

Grawl drew himself up to full height, and sitting on the counter he was well above the human. And then he put a hand on that appendage and gently pulled it towards himself. It was more firm than it looked, and it was hot , warmer to the touch than Grawl was expecting. It felt more like an ovipositor than anything else.

Grawl was practically salivating for it. He wrenched Baker closer by the arm. But instead of just sliding the rod in, Baker two two fingers and gently split Grawl’s folds. He hissed in shocked pleasure. Baker hesitated, like he was trying to gauge a reaction.

Grawl tugged him in closer and pressed their lips together. Baker kissed hungrily, like there was something to win. He grabbed the back of Grawl’s head and the thing, the appendage bumped against his thigh.

“Yeah, put it in.” His cloaca was shuddering just with the suggestion. Baker was hung; that thing was almost too big. Baker put those fucking weird five-fingered hands on Grawl’s hips again.

“Turn around for me, general,” he said. Grawl thought about decking him. Decking him would be kind of hot. Instead he turned around and leaned over the kitchen table. From the feeling at the edge of his folds he first thought that Baker was putting fingers in again. But no, a half a second later it was clear. That huge thing. Baker started to rock his hips against Grawl’s, slow at first but picking up the pace as lubrication was flowing.

“Damn,” Baker said, as if in surprise.

“Not how you do it on earth?”

“We do it something like this. He took a handful of Grawl’s ass and pressed deeper into the split. That was enough to send Grawl over the edge. He scrabbled at the edges of the table to keep standing, his insides convulsing as he came. There was a splash of something in his inner cavity--did humans also have their own lubrication? But Grawl was flushed face, numb-lipped, not thinking about that.

“Ngh. Put your eggs in me.”

“My what?”

“Just dirty talk. I didn’t mean literally.”

“What? I mean--is that an actual thing you guys do?” Baker pulled back out so Grawl could turn to look at him. When he did, a single drop of white creamy fluid hit the parquet floor between his feet.