Chapter Text
Christopher churrs quietly to himself as he walks home from his place of work, emulating some pleasant rhythm he remembers drumming in his youth.
It was a good day. They had isolated a point of loss in their models which had been greatly reducing their yield. It won't solve all their problems but his supervisors will appreciate the progress.
Tl’ki bugs buzz slowly next to him on the red sand path. They are females, heavy with eggs, and they make their way lazily from peth stalk to peth stalk, scraping the dew which beads at the base of the willowy plants.
He watches them fondly, remembering childhood days in the warm season spent following the creatures as they quested for food and drink and a safe place to nest. In his parent’s courtyard he had marked out an area with little purple flags, alerting others to the newest neighborhood residents, asking that everyone respect the tl’ki as they mothered their broods.
The pleasant warmth of satisfaction which has been filling him over the last half hour of his walk swells in his chest cavity until it’s almost difficult to breathe. His long stride shortens and stops, his golden eyes lift from the insects around him and turn towards his home.
He is happy.
At home his son is waiting. The youth will be assisting his friend Wikus with preparing their evening meal. Together they will eat, they will talk about their days. Oliver will regale them with a tale of childish victory and he and Wikus will praise him. After dinner Wikus will ask Christopher a question from his language studies and Christopher will be able to sit close to him, helping him learn the shape of new sounds in his unfamiliar mouth.
Perhaps they will sit outside and watch Oliver and the other community children play. Perhaps they will take out the player pad and listen to some of the rhythms Christopher has been churring to himself all day.
Then tonight perhaps…
A thread of lusty hope stokes the fires of Christopher’s joy..
Tonight. He will reach out to Wikus. They will take their next step together as friends, as housemates, as partners, as survivors.
Together.
In the window of their home he sees movement. Through the open portal he hears Oliver chirp in happy laughter.
Christopher’s love swells and nearly overwhelms him. His eyes soft, his breath coming quick, he begins to walk again.
He can’t wait to get home.
—-
Oliver has long since gone to bed and the door to his room shut soundly. Christopher is leaning over Wikus, eyes soft with adoration, barely focusing on what the younger hybrid is asking for his counsel on. The Earthling’s smaller fingers are swiping over a pad hastily, oscillating between two displays, attempting to decipher a connection. Christopher lets out a quiet chuff and settles his jaw down to rest on Wikus’ shoulder.
The hybrid’s easy speech stutters to a halt, his hand stilling on his data pad.
“Christopher?” He hums after a moment, curious.
Their house is otherwise silent. Outside the male tl’kis are awake and buzzing, hunting smaller insects to take home to their mates.
“It’s a lovely evening, Wikus.” Christopher offers by way of explanation. Wikus lets out a tentative trill of agreement.
There’s little space between them. Christopher’s larger body is arched over Wikus’ back, his chitinous plates scraping smoothly over Wikus’ spine with every little shift. His small, secondary graspers are curled just slightly against a dip in Wikus’ armor, gently tethering them together.
A shiver wracks Wikus’ body.
Focused, Christopher’s large, alien hands come up to stroke over his friend’s shoulders and upper arms. He seeks to soothe him.
“Are you alright?” He murmurs and Wikus just shivers again, the pad in his hands tipping limply down towards his lap, forgotten.
It's a beautiful night.
“Good?” Christopher murmurs, his hands continuing their slow, even slide.
This is something they’ve been dancing around for a while. When Chris has reached out with gestures and words - small nuzzles, the tangling of antennae - the smaller hybrid has haltingly, shyly, responded. Wikus has begun matching Christopher’s actions with cautious acceptance. He has been reciprocating in little ways as much as he can.
Tonight - and it's such a very lovely night - tonight is a night for more-
Wikus’ continued silence edges Christopher on. He lets his hands slip off Wikus’ elbows to delve under his arms and press gently into his sides. Reverently he takes a moment to pet the flaxen cloth covering tough protective plating before he shifts and slips his fingertips under the hem of the loose, cropped vest Wikus is wearing. Boldly he explores around and inward towards his abdomen, a daring pilot flying into unknown space, witnessing wild new wonders -
Holding his breath he slips finger tips forward to gently touch the smaller’s waist.
Chris' body is twisted on the bench, one leg folded up and to one side of Wikus, the other extended to the floor, bracketing the hybrid’s hip. He dares to shift his weight, scooching a bit closer.
As his hands continue their journey mapping Wikus body they begin to roam down- down towards the prominent jut of Wikus’ hip bones.
Christopher pauses - his heart beating wildly quick and eager in his chest.
Gently his fingers stretch forward. It is a slow, deliberate slide as he cups his hands around Wikus’ narrow abdomen. His thumbs pet gently against the thinner membranes there. The skin which will stretch and swell when Wikus carries his first young.
His fingertips dip lower, threatening to push past the waistband of Wikus' garments to explore the crux of thigh and pelvis-
A shrill chirp of alarm rips itself free from Wikus’ vocal chords and he jerks forward, trying to escape from Christopher’s grasp.
The large engineer lifts his hands immediately, giving Wikus the room he needs to scoot a few frantic inches to the side. The smaller hybrid’s body twists sharply to face his friend. Their bi-colored eyes are huge, and he’s switched now to holding his pad protectively in front of his chest.
“Christopher, what the fuck!”
Christopher’s heart seizes in his chest.
Their antennae immediately dip forward in concern, their shoulders squaring as if there is a threat in the room he must be prepared to take care of.
“Wikus?” He trills. The Earthling just stares back, little trembles running up his spine. “Did I frighten you? Was that- did that hurt you?”
Wikus is a hybrid, he must remember. The medics have balanced his genetics as best they can but there are still surprises littered throughout his body. Perhaps his nerves are designed differently-
“Hurt, what? No!” Wikus squawks. “No, what- when did we- why would you-“
While Wikus’ grasp of language has been improving by leaps and bounds, fits of frustration and anxiety tend to trip his tongue and Christopher purrs lowly to try and calm his agitated friend.
“Tell me what you did not like.” He commands slowly, remaining very still as Wikus edges back another inch. The smaller's maxillae chew on nothing, a ghost of an old habit made useless with no lips left to bite.
“I-“. Wikus begins, uncertain, but trails off immediately.
The house lights are all dimmed. It is quiet, warm, and the air feels close and pleasantly humid. It’s is a beautiful evening.
Christoper’s feels like his plans for the evening are teetering on the edge of a cliff.
The alien breathes deep the scent of the night-flowering peth they have planted beneath the windows of their home and seeks a return of his earlier calm.
“This is very sudden.” Wikus declares at last. Oh so cautiously he forces his hands to relax in front of him, his fingers no longer threatening to crack the screen of his pad with their clutching
Christopher’s brow dips in confusion. He remembers Wikus’ precious little reciprocations, his shy replies to Christopher’s advances.
“Wikus-“ He murmurs. “Beloved. I have been courting you for weeks.”
If anything this explanation makes Wikus’ eyes grow bigger.
“Bullshit.”
A pang of frustration spikes in the Engineer. The easy dismissal of his words harkens back to an early phase of their friendship and he doesn’t like it at all.
“Wikus.” He clicks, tone deepening. “What did you think was happening when I began to touch you so gently? When I began to stroke your antennae, when I pressed my mouth to your brow? I have been seeking your attention for weeks my friend. And you have been returning it.”
“I didn’t know!” Wikus yelps, his eyes jumping in panic to the side and away from Christopher’s scrutiny. “Fuck, fuck! I didn’t know- I didn’t know what I was doing! It doesn’t count!”
Any remnants of Christopher’s ardor freeze solid.
His guts squirm.
Shame starts to crawl up his spine.
The air is hot and unpleasantly damp. The room is too dark- he should raise the lights. Somewhere across the community court some idiot neighbor is laughing too loudly. The tl’ki’s buzzing is incessant.
“I have been… accosting you.”
It takes a moment to process the words but then Wikus’ eyes snap back to Christopher. From his throat comes a noise of anxious uncertainty.
Suddenly Christopher feels old- positively ancient. He aches, his tendons stiff and in-elastic and he wants to slip off the bench and land on the dark stone floor and just lay there in misery until morning.
“I forget.” He chokes out, after a pause, forcing the words past the lock in his throat. “You- you are like a child sometimes. Our ways are still new to you.”
A great sadness surges up and swamps him. His joy is swept away in a cruel current and he is left bereft.
“Forgive me, please. I swear, I did not realize- I did not know this was… unpleasant for you. I did not mean to force you, I will not-“
“Chris, wait-”
“I will not force you. You do not need to nest with me, you are part of this home regardless of if we fulfill our bond or not, please know this-“
“Bond?”
“I’m sorry, my friend. If my presence pains you I- I can ask Alec if I may sleep in his home tonight. I do not have to-“
“STOP.” Wikus barks, tossing his pad behind him on the bench before throwing his hands up in front of himself, trying to halt the onslaught of apologies. “Just, give me a fucking moment.”
Christopher’s beak closes with an audible snap, his eyes downtrodden and resigned as he let’s Wikus have his piece.
The little hybrid deserves that much.
Christopher cringes.
He is pathetic-
“I’m not mad.” Wikus says after a minute to collect himself, his hands fluttering slightly to emphasize his point.
A night bird coos outside, swooping low on the hunt before turning east towards the canyons.
Christopher’s downward spiral slows to a stop.
“But my affections are unwelcome.” He supplies and Wikus winces.
“I didn’t say that. I don’t know, I haven’t… just let me have a minute.”
There’s no way Chris could know, but the truth of the matter is Wikus...
Wikus would be lying if he claimed he hasn’t thought about this a time or two. He’s been on the home world for more than a year now and he and Christopher have been living in each other’s pockets a lot longer than that.
It was not a short trip from Earth.
At times he’ll get lonely and melancholy and he’ll think of Tania and how much they loved each other and the raw endings to his nerves look for something to soothe them and his mind inevitably turns to Christopher.
Always to Christopher.
At the core of it, Wikus has always been an affectionate person. He’s always been Soft. Simple. He got called girlish a lot in school and he used to hate that but he didn’t want to change who he was. He was a boy who made gifts for other people. He wrote heartfelt notes and left them where his loved ones might find them. He congratulated his co workers on stupid aniversaries and little victories. He liked to give sweets to children.
So when Christopher touches him and it feels nice and warm and, and, and-
He doesn’t want to push him away. He wants to touch back.
The former human breathes deep, seeking to quell the shaking in his chest.
On his side of the bench, separated from Wikus by a yawning chasm of uncertainty, Christopher thinks about what learning the smaller creature might have done so far on the subject of courting and breeding and love. The basic premise of sex between two consenting partners is surely the same as that which the man grew up with, but there are so very many cultural and biological subtleties that exist between their two species and can easily get lost in translation.
Biology has been a part of Wikus’ curriculum in the past year but does he really understand what his body does? What it can do? Has he squirmed uncomfortably during his lessons and skipped over the passages which discuss pheromones and chemical bonding? Have his pupils dilated and his antennae dipped back in embarrassment as he rushes through plain text descriptions of arousal and penetration and the fertilization of an egg?
Christopher wants to show him. He wants to teach him. Sometimes he finds himself bent over a tedious task in the lab, eyes trained on the tiny bit of wiring and chemistry and his mind just shifts. All he can think about is if Wikus has ever touched himself. Has he ever curled his sharp finger tips to tease at his cloaca? Has he pet over his slit unit it has grown wet and his cock has come free? Has he yet dared to explore his -frankly, beautiful- new anatomy?
Those days he has gone home and indulged his desire in little ways. He has reached out while they are preparing a meal together to scratch gently at the base of a sensitive antenna. He has rubbed the smooth side of a finger joint into the dip between two plates, petting the soft tissues sheltered there. He has stood as close to Wikus as he can without quite touching, letting their pheromones mingle, their body heat charge what little space remains between them.
And Wikus has responded so beautifully.
He shivers, but does not withdraw. His scent molecules double, his body begins to heat as it expresses interest in copulation.
He takes Christopher’s hand when it’s offered and they sit side beside each other outside of their home, watching the sun as it sets against a deeply purple sky.
“I’ve never… I’ve never done it, you know, like that.” Wikus chirps weakly, his hands falling to his lap, what fingers he has left tangle over each other in an expression of his anxiety. “I don’t… It’ll hurt, won’t it? I don’t want… that.”
“I would never hurt you.” Christopher croaks, emphatic, his golden eyes ablaze. “Being penetrated can be overwhelming. It can at first have some… discomfort, but it is meant to feel good my love. I would not ask you to partake if I did not expect it to bring you great pleasure.”
“Oh my god.” Wikus moans, his eyes shutting at Christopher’s words, a shudder snapping down his carapace.
His pheromones spike and Christopher’s maxillae tremble, tasting-
“I’m not… I had a wife, you know. I really loved her.”
Christopher’s heart breaks a little.
“Of course, Wikus. I am not hoping to replace her or remove her from your memories. I only wish to create something new with you, beloved.”
“You keep calling me that.” Wikus pivots abruptly, body squirming and Christopher doubts he even realizes the way he moves.
He is so enthralling.
“Love? I do love you, We have been through so much together and we have suffered and we have survived and we have triumphed. You have amazed me in your strength and your perseverance. You have touched me with your compassion. You have warmed me with your tenderness for my son. You- you have made me laugh with your wit and infuriated me with your stubbornness.
“And truly I have cherished each and every moment I have spent with you here in our home as you work so very hard to learn our history and our language and our science. I have learned through you, looked at my world with new eyes and that is a precious gift only you could have given me. I am so grateful to you. I adore you.
“Breathe deeply Wikus. Can you not smell me?”
Christopher watches Wikus’ throat bob as he swallows several times before the tentacles around his mouth tentatively give a little wiggle, gathering the scent particles in the air, assessing them.
“That’s you?” He asks quietly, uncertain. Christopher cannot be sure what Wikus is tasting on the air but he nods anyways. With a concerted effort he focuses on forgetting all the careful control he has developed over his bodily functions throughout the years. It’s not polite to let your instincts have free reign in general company. It’s not appropriate to let your scent assert itself over every situation and dominate a room.
Now though he wants Wikus to feel it. Let him take it in and let it fill him. His body will know how to read his signals, his body will know how to respond. Let biology make real to Wikus what he knows his words cannot do alone.
The happiness which had earlier been dashed begins to rekindle.
Wikus has his legs pulled up onto the bench at this point, the gangly limbs bent protectively in front of himself.
Now he squeezes them together unconsciously, his thighs flexing. His pupils dilate.
Christopher’s heart beat quickens. “What do you want Wikus? Would you like me to leave? Do you want us to forget about this?”
After a small, breathless eternity Wikus shakes his head no.
“Do you want me to touch you again?” Christopher churrs, very softly and Wikus shuts his eyes.
“Have you done this before?” The hybrid asks, voice strained.
For a moment Christopher considers. “Taken a sexual partner? Yes-“
“No, I mean-“ Wikus hesitates, opening his eyes halfway to stare at his closest friend. “I mean, you must have had someone, someone-“ His words die off with a frustrated huff.
Christopher can taste his embarrassment and its bitter like burnt grain.
“Someone had to, to- you know, at some point, right? Oliver-“ He trails off again and Christopher hums, nodding in understanding.
“Yes, I see. Yes I have taken another inside me in order to fertilize an egg.” Christopher is surprised that he did not think about bringing this up himself. It’s not a cherished memory precisely but as he lets it surface and turns it over in his mind he realizes the value of it.
“I did not love them.” He explains first. “It was not a bonding experience. They were simply capable, reasonably attractive, and I felt very low at the time. I wanted a young one. I felt I… I needed something to live for. Someone to care for.”
Christopher can’t help a small huff of self deprecating laughter and he hangs his head.
“It was selfish, to bring a child into that miserable situation, but I wanted one very badly so I indulged myself and sought a mate.
“Isaac was… pleasant. Very agreeable. We were physically compatible. The sex was acceptable. I found some pleasure in it and ultimately I got what I wanted in the end.”
Lifting his head Christopher’s eyes warm as he’s taken with a bit of humor. “I certainly would have done some things differently if I were in Isaac’s position, but they were young. I couldn’t expect them to be an expert.”
Wikus let’s out a startled chirp of a laugh at the assertion and Christopher feels himself warming more.
Somewhere in the community a neighbor starts drumming: A popular form of recreational entertainment. The rhythm is familiar and Christopher flicks his antennae, his leg bobbing several times to the pulse of it before he can help himself.
“So you’re an expert then, are you?” Wikus goads, sarcasm in his tone, and Christopher feels the first notes of lust start to churn again.
“I’ve had no complaints.”
Wikus chirps a laugh in spite of himself. “Cheeky…”
They listen to the distant rhythm build and fall, a pair of musicians hocketing their beats, creating something together that is complex and powerful and beautiful.
“Wikus.”
The hybrid hums, eyes half closed, his earlier panic now all but completely calmed.
Christopher let’s his own body display. He sighs and subtly his plates flex, lifting slightly to make him appear larger, stronger. His internal muscles tense and relax, stimulating the glands inside him which will release the most scent. He moves his legs so he sits straddling the bench. He does not advance, but he keeps his body position open, steady.
Inviting.
“May I touch you?” He churrs softly and the hybrid shivers.
His mismatched eyes are focused on Christophers hands, the alien’s large fingers spread out to support himself as the leans leans forward slightly, bracing himself against the hard, dry surface of the bench.
“I won’t hurt you.” He promises easily and Wikus’ fingers twitch, his thighs squeezing together again.
“Alright.” He agrees after a moment.
Christopher’s spirit soars.
“Alright.”
—-
The night insects buzz and click and chirp. A gentle breeze clinks and clatters the flashers which decorate their windows.
Christopher stills a shiver which tries to take over his carapace. Below him on the bench Wikus has allowed himself to be laid out over the course of the last twenty minutes. Anxious but trustingly pliant, he has given his larger partner the access he needs to explore his body.
Wikus’ long, coltish legs are spread just wide enough to let Christopher kneel up between them. The kek - a traditional garment made of hide worn around the groin - is the only covering that remains on either of them.
Christopher keeps his touch away from the impediment for now. A croon plays as a constant rumble in his chest while he devours the beauty of his partner.
Wikus’ eyes are big, his breathing hitching, but now that they have begun - truly begun - he has not asked to stop.
“Hips higher, my Wikus.” Christopher purrs, voice clicking lowly on Wikus’ name.
And gloriously, gingerly, Wikus obeys. He cants his pelvis and bows his back, peering shyly down the planes of his own body at the larger alien who is now lifting and cradling his jutting hips in his large hands like they’re something delicate and precious.
“Good.” He praises. Christopher settles the shaking limbs higher around his own waist, letting Wikus’ lower body now rest in his lap.
“This is-“. Wikus begins, but he has to pause and swallow several time to wet his throat. “This feels like more than… touching”
“Do you want me stop?” He freezes, holding completely still. The question is asked in earnest, but Wikus shakes his head, expression embarrassed.
“No, this is OK.”
Crooning lowly, hoping to soothe and encourage, Christopher dips himself down. Wikus’ body bends at the hips to accommodate. Their groins press together firmly and the larger lowers his mandibles to nibble on Wikus’ collar.
The younger hybrid yips and shudders, his hips humping forward of their own volition to seek more pressure.
All those pheromones Christopher has been scenting over the last weeks and months thicken, Wikus’ body excited and anticipating sex with a suitable partner. Even through their remaining clothing Christopher can feel that Wikus’ opening has softened.
His blood feels molten hot in his veins, His heart thunders.
“Wikus.” He groans the name low, a foreign tangle of sounds which spring so sweetly to his mouth.
“Wikus, please, I want to penetrate you.” He manages to grunt out the request, his eyes closed as he nuzzles closely at Wikus’ throat and upper chest.
Christopher wants.
He will be anything for Wikus, show him anything, give him anything. He just wants to be one with him. He wants to bind himself so tightly to this remarkable soul.
He wants so desperately to strip him completely bare and bring him the kind of pleasure he knows Wikus has never experienced.
As the silence stretches on between them the proud engineer shudders and lets loose a little high-pitched chitter before he can help it, the plates of his cheek scratching over Wikus’ chest as he rubs his scent glands against the younger, needing more, more, more-
“I-“ Wikus starts, his voice shaking and dry. The hands which have been clasping at Christopher’s arms slide up to wrap around the larger alien’s shoulders and grip tight. “I don’t want to- lose myself, you know?” He manages to choke out.
The short tendrils around his mouth unfurl and reach gingerly to pet at the side of Christopher’s head where the larger has tucked himself beneath Wikus’ chin.
Immediately Christopher turns himself upwards to tangle his own tendrils with Wikus’, a kiss full of hunger and need, wet and tasting intensely of their mutual desire.
Wikus’ head drops back to the bench, unresisting as a trill of passion bubbles up and resonates in his throat. Christopher can feel it vibrating in his own tentacles, in the points where their antennae dip to tangle with each other. It teases, a feather light touch-
At length Christopher pulls back, his breath sharp and hissing as he tries to steady himself for what he needs to say.
“This… Partnering with me like this does not change you, Wikus. You- you will still be yourself. We will still be… much as we have always been. But we-”He gestures with one hand between them, pressing with two fingers firmly but gently into the center of Wikus’ narrow abdomen, before turning his hand to repeat the gesture on himself. “We will be more. So much more. We will bond and our souls will become as one, our love-“.
Christopher stops short, running out of words. He knows the strength of his own love but he cannot make this leap alone, it must be-
“Ours.” Wikus rasps into the beat of silence which stands between them, voice hoarse. “God help me, I am not the man I once was. I don’t- I- Fuck. I love you. Fuck it, Fuck, fuck. I do. I love you.”
Christopher feels like he’s on fire, inside and out, his emotions, his physical desire, like a blaze consuming him. “I want you” He nearly growls. He shifts to plant his forearms firmly on the bench, bracketing Wikus’ head, shifting his body so his secondary hands can reach out and stroke along Wikus’ own, tangling their smaller, softer fingers together.
He cradles the smaller creature from all sides, their breath a hot miasma churning between them. Their eyes are locked on one another and Christopher won’t beg, he won’t subject Wikus to that, but, to use his mate’s favored curse, fuck-
Wikus shakes and shuts his eyes, beginning to nod frantically as shiver after shiver wracks his frame. His smaller hands grip Christopher’s tight. His voice cracks a little, his words simple and bit jumbled as he lets his own need speak. “I want you too, fuck it, fuck it, I do.. Yes, okay, yes, yes-“
“Wikus”. Christopher does growl, hungry, full of a want which has been building and building in him for weeks. His penetrating organ is wet and wanting and already half released from his sheath. It’s chaffing uncomfortably at his own kek and he just can’t contain it anymore. “Wikus.”
He stops talking. He settles for kissing his partner again, wet and stroking and deep. On one forearm he props himself up and with the other he reaches down to unfasten the last of their clothing, tossing the garments aside. He doesn’t bother to be careful, he lets the backs of his fingers rub teasingly over Wikus’ cloaca as well as the sensitive slit which will part when Wikus’ own penetrating organ everts.
Wikus’ hips buck on each bit of contact. With his body now bare Christopher reaches out and press his palm gently against the slick surface of his opening and feel the way it clenches tight and releases through each punch of arousal cycling through his little mate. The tissues have softened and grown wet, eager, welcoming.
What little restraint Christopher has left in him turns to ash and his cock slips free, fully engorged and wet, dark and slippery and hot as he presses it forward, rubbing against Wikus’ own, smaller genital slit. He can feel as well as hear the resulting keen from the hybrid’s body as the swollen lips of his sheath relax and the muscles of his pelvis flex on instinct, pushing his own member free.
The pheromone levels soar, the scent of the room is dense, sultry. Wikus pants heavily, his head resting bonelessly back on the bench, throat working as he swallows hungrily, tasting the two of them together.
Christopher’s lungs expand fully as he savors the smell.
They are good together. Earthy, dry, and a hint of something like ozone, the taste of another world-
“How do you feel?” Chistopher croaks, his fires somewhat banked as he allows himself to slowly rock his hips, sliding them together in a delicious pattern of pleasure. “What are you tasting?”
“Us?” Wikus rasps, uncertain. “I feel- like I’m floating. It feels good.”
Christopher lets loose a wordless croon and drops his body down to fully cover Wikus again, wanting another kiss. Their tentacles and antennae tangle once more.
“Your body accepts this. Accepts me, accepts us-“ Christopher tries to explain when he pulls back enough to murmur the words, but they don’t have enough breath between them for him to fully explain the biology of it. Does Wikus know that in the presence of a suitable bonding partner his body will loosen, his muscles relax, his mind calm? Does he know reaching this level of courtship amongst their people can take years? Does he know how special this is between them, how holy? It is not just the head and the heart which create a bond, but the body. To lie here together, Wikus beneath him, panting and squirming and yielding- His body is open and needing and trusting and Christopher will never betray this, never-
“Feels good.” Wikus repeats, weakly, his eyes unfocused as he tries to lock them with Christopher’s. He’s high on the endorphins, on the pheromones, on all the hundreds of chemicals his body is producing in reward, in anticipation-
“I’m glad.” Christopher offers back as their own lame reply and promises, promises to explain these things to their mate in more detail tomorrow. But now… but now…
Christopher’s own thoughts are buzzing like the tl’ki. He is giddy and so very eager. He dips his head and nuzzles Wikus’ collar again, his hand which has just been resting between Wikus’ legs resumes its earlier exploration. His finger tips are fairly sharp but their bodies are built tougher than a human’s. He’s gentle but not worried as he presses into Wikus’ soft opening with two fingers.
The hybrid immediately gasps, flinches, but after a brief flex his entrance remains relaxed and wet, accepting of the penetration.
Christopher feels Wikus’ member twitch against his and he empathizes.
“Good?” He rumbles, voice hoarse.
Wikus’ own hands have wrapped around Christopher’s shoulders once again, his pointed finger tips digging into his carapace and clinging desperately. “I’ve never done this before.” He gasps out. Christopher’s careful movements still and Wikus is immediately shaking his head, gripping his partner’s shoulders tighter. “It’s good, don’t stop, don’t stop.”
So he presses in deeper, deeper, and when he’s deep as he can he curls his fingertips, dragging against new nerves, unknown before tonight, and Wikus chokes on a small cry.
“Fuck! Chris-“ He trills out a whimper and his hips flex in a hungry thrust, wanting more. “Chris-“
Wikus is so wet inside. Every time he clenches more slick sluices froth, making its easy for Christopher to straighten his fingers back out and practice a few thrusts, separating the digits to further stretch the passage, twisting them and curling them to play with Wikus’ body.
“More?” Christopher prompts into the heated air between them, almost wanting to finger his mate to climax, but he’s far to desperate himself tonight to be quite so dutiful.
Wikus eyes slit open as a fresh shiver wracks his frame. One of the hybrid’s hands has come free from Christopher’s shoulder to press against the bench behind him, his fingertips scratching little pale lines into the woody surface.
For a long minute Wikus just stares, breathing heavily. His beautiful bi-colored eyes are wet, the upper ducts tearing up at the intensity of the situation.
Christopher remains still, his two fingers a firm comfort inside of Wikus but unmoving, simply letting the smaller hybrid clench and release around them.
At length the larger swallows and dips his head down a little closer to Wikus’ own. “I will honor and cherish you for every moment you allow me, Wikus. Mate with me. Let us become as one. Let us start a new life, together.”
At Christopher’s words Wikus shudders a fresh and his legs tense, his long, sharp toes curling. His eyes shut again for but a moment then they open wide and he bobs his head in a human symbol of assent.
“Yes. I want that.” He rasps out his agreement, quietly.
Christopher feels rapturous, his heart thundering with almost too much joy, but something still weighs him down.
He can’t afford anymore misunderstandings in this. He swallows hard and struggles to stay calm, to maintain his composure.
He must be confident: It is integral that he assure his mate of his suitability, his conviction, and his strength.
“Wikus, I want to be clear. You want for us to couple? For us to not just have sex, but to bond, commit to one another in the ways of our people? Forever?”
To this there is no hesitation.
The line of anxious tension which was lingering in Wikus’ shoulders softens and his eyes grow less wide.
Confidence returns and Wikus nods again. “Yes. Yes, with you, Chris.”
The last of the weight drops away.
“I will be gentle.” Christopher churrs, warmth blooming inside him as Wikus closes his eyes and squirms adorably, huffing in embarrassment but not pulling away.
Christopher’s hums with an incredible energy, like this meager assemblage of chitin and tendon possesses the same awesome potential of a starship engine.
He breathes deeply to steady himself. He savors the scent of them filling the air.
He carefully withdraws his fingers, expression dark and hungry as he feels the way Wikus’ body clamps down on his retreat, not wanting him to go.
Patience. he thinks, slipping his hand free and moving to steady his cock, digits shiny wet with Wikus’ fluids. He holds his organ steady as he adjusts his body, one knee braced on the bench with the other foot extended towards the floor, giving himself stability.
When the tip of his sex touches Wikus’ cloaca the smaller hybrid shudders and his mandibles click a few times in anxiety.
Christopher lets loose a very low croon - a soothing sound, a reassuring sound - and without further hesitation he presses in.
The thrust is long, slow, smooth and Wikus shifts from tense anticipation into a trembling warble, throat croaking as he’s overwhelmed by the intense fullness consuming his lower half.
It is hot, tight, trembling, but the look on Wikus’ face is anything but pain. His eyes are once again open wide and gazing vacantly towards the domed ceiling, one hand on Chrisopher’s shoulder, the other cradling the narrow curve of his own abdomen. His chest heaves as even his alien-large lungs struggle to take in the needed air.
Christopher’s blood pounds, his lust surging as he watches the wonder which overtakes his mate’s features.
“Oh-“ Wikus chokes out the breathy, earthling sound of surprise and Christopher hisses. Wikus’ smaller body clenches tight as he finishes his stroke, bottoming out with his pelvis pressed flush to Wikus’ body, the hybrid’s pussy filled to capacity.
“Oh, fuck-“
Christopher’s hiss becomes a growl. “Yes?”
“Yes.” Wikus gasps and Christopher needs no further assent.
With a clattering hiss he draws back as slow as he went in, relishing the sweet slip and pull of Wikus’ wet passage, gripping him eagerly. He sighs nearly as loudly as Wikus when he thrusts back in, beginning a rhythm which will lead them both to a satisfying finish.
“Oh, Fuck, Chris-“. Wikus whimpers, vocabulary diminished as his attention boils down to the thick drag of Christopher’s cock working him open repeatedly, still slow, still gentle, but so, so much-
His eyes snap open wide and he chitters agitatedly as abruptly the feeling inside him begins to change.
Christopher clicks slowly, reassuring, his own eyes barely open as he feels absolute bliss.
Inside Wikus Christopher’s organ is lengthening, extending, reaching deeper to penetrate the smaller hybrid fully. It is probing, seeking, and finally breaching.
Wikus warbles in alarm as he feels the head of Christopher’s cock gently flex and break into the place inside him which will take seed and use it to produce an egg.
His warble becomes a whimper, blending with Christopher’s own quiet croons because Fuck, its in him so deep-
His breath comes faster as the new, pleasurable sensations keep rolling in. His spine arches off of the bench, seeking more, meeting Chrisopher’s continued thrusts with his own rolling rhythm.
Each steady, building beat between them hits just a bit harder, just a bit more, Christopher’s cock still seeking-
The next thrust has Wikus yelping, crying out in something that is nearly alarm as an electric pleasure zaps through his nerves. He tries to jerk upwards, instinctively wanting to sit up and curl around himself, protect himself from the overwhelming sensation, but the bulk and weight of Christopher’s body won’t allow it. Wikus’ muscles are forced to clench and tremble helplessly around the length inside him as they’re assailed by pleasure.
The smaller hybrid collapses back against the bench with a whine and Christopher growls lowly. He yanks himself back so he can slam forward harder than before, shortening his strokes as he aims for the same spot up inside Wikus over and over. He croons while the hybrid keens, Wikus’ legs squeezing ferociously at the unyielding plates of Christopher’s waist, his toes curling, his eyes tearing as each successive thrust finds this cluster of sensitive nerves hidden inside him.
“Wikus-“ Christopher draws out the hybrid’s name into a hiss, the chitin plates of their lower bodies clacking and scraping together obscenely. A satisfaction the likes of which he has never felt before rips through him as he watches his younger mate thrash and cry out in pleasure.
This is his mate, his partner, his beloved, his Wikus-
Wikus chirps, brokenly, his arms reaching up to wrap around his bigger partner, his remaining fingers digging into the grooves of Christopher’s back plates, clinging to his mate as he rides the waves of lust which crash through him.
Each new thrust feels like a staggering lurch towards some great precipice, one blind step more and he might just fly off the edge-
One of Christopher’s hands is furiously gripping the edge of the bench to keep himself stable while he breeds the incredible, beautiful creature who cries out and arches and writhes beneath him. His other arm has wrapped around Wikus’ shoulders, cradling him close, towing their faces near enough that they can kiss, his tendrils pushing deep into Wikus’ mouth, sharing pheromones and chemicals and the flavors of one another.
Christopher shifts his foot and finds even greater leverage, pushing just that much more, feeling the inner walls inside of Wikus stretch to accommodate: soft and wet and welcoming.
His hunger for his love is boundless. He will fill his mate tonight until he his bursting; until his body can take no more and Christopher’s black seed will flow from him. It will stain the backs of his thighs. It will slick his long legs with the marks of passion. He will soaking him in a scent of bonding and breeding and purpose-
“Christopher, oh fuck, oh, fuck, I’m close-“ Wikus manages to choke out the warning, his words heavily accented, nearly indecipherable, every inch of his body awash with shivers, marked with the tension of impending orgasm.
“You may climax, love. Come around me, let me feel you. Let me fill you. Then we can take care of your little cock-”
At the mention of Wikus’ penetrating organ the hybrid seems to suddenly recall its existence. One of his hands slides off Christopher’s shoulder to dip between them and reach for the hungry, wet proboscis which has thus far been rubbing ineffectually against Christopher’s abdomen.
“NO.” Christopher barks, startled, shifting to grab Wikus’ wandering hand and pin it to bench next to his head.
“Wikus, squeeze yourself around me. You can come, feel me, take your pleasure from me.”
“Chrisss-“ Wikus whines, eyes nearly shut as he rides the waves of sensation cresting over him. “So close, please-“
With a low growl Christopher roughly shifts Wikus’ wrists into one hand so he can reach down and adjust the angle of the younger’s hips, pushing hard on the back of one thigh to give himself better leverage, deeper access so he can force high breathless whines out of his mate with each forward thrust.
“Come for me Wikus.” He orders, voice a low deep rumble as he keeps his pace hard but short, striking Wikus at his sensitive core and the diminutive hybrid croaks, shrieks, voice cracking as he strains against the hand pinning his wrists, his muscles contracting sharply as his orgasm takes him.
“Oh fuck-“ He manages to choke out, eyes squeezed shut as he shudders and convulses around his mate.
With a low trill Christopher slows his powerful thrusts until he settles on a deep, firm press, driving himself into his partner and holding there, letting the hungry pull of Wikus’ body draw his own climax greedily out of him.
And fuck it is perfect.
He growls his triumph as Wikus’ body triggers his release.
He is no stranger to conjugal relationships. He has taken several partners for plain pleasure or simple breeding but nothing, nothing has come close to the bliss which roars through him.
He feels like he’s flying, like he’s just gone to light speed, like every sensitive nerve he has inside him has lit up in the same moment with pure, raw delight. Electric pleasure zaps along his veins as his seed rushes to fill his mate. It’s only with great effort and deep heaving breaths that he manages to soften his voice to a rumbling croon, still thrusting shallowly into Wikus’ spasming channel.
His purring resonates from his chest and vibrates them both, Wikus shuddering through waves of pleasure, trembling in Christopher’s arms. Impulsively Christopher draws his hips back once and thrusts forward hard just to watch Wikus jump and cry out, just to feel the thrill of his body squeezing tight,begging for another wash of seed, drawing Christopher’s spend deep inside himself.
“Good” Christopher manages to click out the word of praise, his own throat tight in passion and pleasure, his hips flexing as he makes certain to leave every drop of himself safely inside his mate’s body. “Good, Wikus.”
“Fuck-“ Wikus whines, eyes still shut tight, wrists still restrained. He tilts his head up looking for some kind of comfort and Christopher churrs softly, dropping his own head down so their antennae can brush against one another and they share a softer, sweeter kiss.
As they embrace Christopher relaxes his grip on Wikus‘ hip and releases his grasp on his wrists, sliding his fingers gently down his lover’s thin arms. He curls his fingers around Wikus’ neck, holding him and gently petting at the base of his skull while Wikus reaches up with his newly freed hands to grip his shoulders, pulling him down to lay his weight more fully on top of him.
To shelter him, warm him. Protect him.
As the quiet noises of the night filter back into their awareness their neighbor’s drumming once again becomes apparent to them: a steady thrumming, like the rapid tat-tum of two hearts.
A deep, incredible satisfaction unfurls in Christopher’s chest like a plume of fragrant smoke, warm and sweet and languid.
Their kiss winds down to just the soft stroke of tendrils against one another, feather light and tender. When Christopher pulls back enough to actually look at his mate Wikus’ eyes are barely slit open and wet along the lid line, but his brow bunches in a soft gesture of contentment. After a moment of silence the hybrid churrs a little nonsense noise, embarrassment and assurance at once, and turns his head to the side.
Humming softly Christopher strokes his fingers along the exposed planes of Wikus’ neck, continuing to ease him down from their high and lull him into a period of calm.
Every so often Wikus’ muscles still contract, tightening around Christopher’s organ, and Christopher’s body obliges with another short rush of fluid to fill his mate.
It is a powerful time in their bonding. A time to speak softly or say nothing at all, communicating only in soft touches and deep breaths.
Christopher is awash with feelings of contentment and peace. Poets write words of great beauty about this time, this bond, but Christopher’s mind is pleasantly blank. All he can focus on is the feeling of this singular, drawn out, blissful union. He feels lucky, profoundly so, and so incredibly calm.
Watching Oliver hatch from his egg is the only other moment in his life which would come close to this level of deep, perfect satisfaction.
To have this bond, finally, with this extraordinary individual who lays trembling beneath him-
The pleasant feeling of Wikus’ body’s next contraction around him again is jarringly accompanied by a sharp flinch from Wikus himself, the hybrid subsequently cringing, his body squirming uncomfortably like he wants to pull away.
The blissful stupor in Christopher evaporates. Alarmed Christopher shifts to lift his upper body while keeping his lower body firmly pressed to Wikus’, keeping his cock securely seated, doing his best to still him.
“Wikus?” He asks. “Are you hurting?”
Wikus stills but won’t meet his eyes.
“No.” He mumbles after a few moments, another contraction him and he whimpers, eyes tearing.
Christopher’s antennae dip backwards in concern even as his body lights up again at the pleasure. “Then why do you pull away?”
“Feels-“ Wikus starts but he can’t seem to find the words to continue, squirming half heartedly once again but giving up with a whine when Christopher’s larger mass, hard cock, and greater stability prove unmovable.
“What do you feel?” Christopher asks, one hand moving to stroke over Wikus’ abdomen, seeking any abnormal shapes or forms which may indicate some quirk of his hybrid anatomy, but all he can find are the lovely smooth lines of his carapace and the slight roundness that comes with a thorough breeding.
“Wikus?”
Another contraction and Wikus shivers. “Sorry.”
Christopher tamps down on his own shiver of lust. “For what?” He croons lowly.
“If you let me go I’m sure I’ll settle, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I keep... We’re done, I know-“
Christopher‘s croon deepens, moving his hand to massage the hybrid’s hip. “Nothing is wrong, things are proceeding well, just be calm little one.”
“It’s just-“ Wikus chokes, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck! I keep feeling- oh fuck-“ Another contraction.
Realization dawns on Christopher.
Wikus does not know what’s happening to him.
“Wikus you are-“ Christopher swallows, trying to calm himself, wanting to be steady for the both of them. “Love, your body is functioning perfectly. We are safe, well suited, and both healthy. Our mating will take some time. Be easy. Trust your body. We are not finished, keep taking your pleasure.”
A chilling thought crosses Christopher’s mind and he tenses. “Unless… unless you have- changed your mind? You do not wish to-“
“No.” Wikus whines, distressed. “No, I haven’t. I haven’t changed my mind. I just feel- strange-“ He trails off as another aftershock washes through him, little electric bolts of pleasure causing his fingers to clench into Christopher’s shoulders- needy. Wanting. “Fuck-“
“Are- are human mating practices usually finished so quickly?” Christopher questions cautiously, bringing one of his hands up to cup the back of Wikus’ head when the hybrid buries his face against his shoulder. Wikus tenses once before quaking with a startled laugh.
“I guess, yeah.” He mutters against the safety of Christopher’s carapace.
Chris had had little enough reason to involve himself with the mating habits of humans while he had been trapped on their planet so he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised, but he still finds himself taken aback.
“Wikus.” He murmurs, tone grave, processing. “Bonding acts for our kind last for hours. Even if we were to withdraw from each other now we would both be consumed by an incredible need for the other which would leave us aching and restless and unfulfilled all through the night and into tomorrow.”
“Oh.” The hybrid offers weakly in reply, his voice muffled against Christopher’s shoulder. “I guess I missed that part of my reading.”
Christopher feels torn: he is chilled with worry but still riding the endorphin high of a successful first round of bonding. He wants his mate to relax.
He just wants Wikus to let go and entrust himself to Christopher. He wants him to feel pleasure, to be content.
“Forgive me, I should have… clarified. I should have made sure-“
“It’s okay.” Wikus reassures, shivering. “I get it, its okay. I feel weird, but everything about this new body has been really fucking weird at first, I guess I’ll figure it out. It’s- It’s okay, it- this doesn’t hurt. Which is great. A lot of things I’ve gone through have hurt. A lot.”
Chris’ heart aches. “I want you to feel good, Wikus.”
The hybrid tugs his head back, dropping it back against the bench with a sigh. “I do. I do feel good, I just feel-” A look of teary eyed frustration takes over Wikus’ features. “ I feel- ah, I feel I need you. I’ve never felt- I’ve never felt so- Fuck. I feel-“
“Overwhelmed?” Chris tries to help, his hand now stroking Wiku’s antennae back from his face, his thumb rubbing gentle circles at the base of the sensitive appendages.
“Yes, I suppose.” Wikus mumbles.
“I’m right here my love.” Christopher promises. “My heart and my soul and my body are yours. I will not abandon you or lead you astray or harm you. I promise. Let go, feel good now.”
Wikus says nothing but he does sigh, close his eyes, and gives one of his little nods of consent while he visibly forces his body to relax.
His legs which have shifted to bracket Christopher’s hips fall slightly to the sides as he stops fighting to keep them up, his large chest filling slowly with a deep breath before deflating sharply with a gusty exhalation.
Outside the tl’ki buzz, the neighbors drum, the wind whispers quietly.
Christopher buries his face against Wikus’ neck, tangles their secondary hands together where they’re already pressed chest to chest. He chances a little flex of his hips along with Wikus’ body’s next appeal.
His mate chirps, startled, but just grips tighter to his shoulders, breath stuttering.
“Do you trust me?” Christopher asks.
Wikus reply is instantaneous.
“Yes.”
And that single word resonates with the power of a vow.
“Follow my lead.” The larger murmurs, a fire once again starting to build in his blood: a thirst he may never be able to fully quench.
As they begin to move together again Wikus remains pliant, features determinedly relaxed as he shivers through each wash of pleasure Christopher triggers inside him.
“Once more. Once more like this. Let me fill you one more time, then we can take care of your cock.”
And at this Wikus moans deeply, his back arching to meet Christopher’s next thrust.
“I love you.” The smaller croaks out, his pupils blown wide, eyes watering at the intensity of the moment. Then he tosses his head back with a shrill cry because Chris has struck that incredible spot deep inside of him once again.
Chris’ ardor roars.
Once more. He promises as he sets himself once again to the task of filling his mate with as much seed as his body can accommodate.
They have much more to discuss but that can come later.
For now, just this. Bliss.