Princess of the Void: An Alien Abduction Romance

The Princess of the Black Pike is hanging upside down. Grant's hands tuck under her shoulders to keep her stable. Grant's face is buried in her crotch. Grant's airways are being constricted by her legs as they wrap in desperation around his head, calves crossed at the nape of his neck. Totally worth it. If he dies, he dies.

Sykora dangles desperately. "Ohmygod Grant—"

"Shhh, babe." He kisses the flexing tendon of her inner thigh. "Hold on, now. Okay?"

"Are you—oh—" Sykora writhes as Grant tugs her higher. Her thighs clamp around his head. The world goes quiet beneath his quivering blue earmuffs.

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She loosens her death grip on his skull, and he rocks backward to admire his handiwork. The tossed and wild mane, the skin glistening and flushed. The nipples tight and peaked on her heaving chest.

"That's—that's enough, Grantyde." She blinks rapidly, trying to clear the curling haze. "We have to get back."

"We still have…" Grant checks Sykora's communicator. There's a text chain from Vora on it:

Going over minutiae while we wait for you, Majesty. no rush!

Ignore any texts Hyax sends you, she's being Hyax.

Don't fret, Kora. I'm sure he'll love it :)

And a message from Hyax:

whenever milady is done polishing her maekyonite's meat spear weve got an invasion to plan

He chuckles as he dismisses them and checks the time. "We still have eighteen minutes," he says. "You came so quick. Needy little thing."

Sykora covers her face. "I'm not—it wasn't on purpose. I just—"

He places the communicator on the ground by her clothes. "But it's sounding like you can still form sentences. So my job's not done."

"Maybe you could—" She swallows. "Your hands. Do the, uh—the thing."

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He takes her ankle in his grip. "I didn't know you were the one giving orders here, Majesty." These power plays of theirs—he remembers when it felt awkward to him, when it made him self-conscious. He hasn't become some kind of alpha since then, but it's easier and easier to let her flip that switch in him when she needs it.

And it intoxicates him now, too. He admits it. The transformation in them both. The look on her face when his shadow encompasses her, excitement and satisfaction and ardor spiced with a minuscule trace of apprehension.

"I am still in charge, you know." She swallows to clear away the saliva that her body is making, in anticipation of what her husband is going to do to it. "I'm the only one onboard who outranks you, but I do."

"Even though you're a Princess and I'm a Prince." He shakes his head. "How is that fair, huh?"

"Because you're a big crude Maekyonite," she says. "And I'm a cute little Taiikari lady, and we're in charge."

He tuts. "That isn't a very nice thing to say, Princess."

She snickers and sticks her tongue out at him. "What are you gonna do about—"

He grabs her other ankle and drags her to the edge of the crate. She groans and writhes as he kicks his pants the rest of the way off.

"I'm gonna show you," he says, "what big crude Maekyonites do to cute little Taiikari ladies who think they're in charge."

His hands slip down from her ankles to beneath her knees. He pushes up, and in, and folds his wife in half again, the way she likes. Her glowing blush spreads from her face to the top of her chest.

"You girls think you can just kidnap us and not face any consequences?"

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"You're just. You're just big. That's all." She laughs breathily. Her abs tighten and flex as she braces to receive him. "You think size matters? We could conquer your planet tomorrow if we wanted."

Oooh. Sykora's feeling spicy. Before the gift she gave him today, this might have been too much for Grant. But now it just makes him feel spicy, too.

"You know what? I think you owe the aliens of the firmament an apology, Little Miss Conqueror. I think I'd like to hear you say—" He leans down. "Sorry."

Her throat trembles. "Taiikari don't say sorry."

"Taiikari don't. But you married a Maekyonite." He hooks a finger into her choker and tugs her halfway up to sitting. "A Maekyonite collared you. And Maekyonites say sorry."

He observes her carefully. Is this delicious taboo, or is it too far? He opens the door in the back of his head and tarries at the threshold, just in case he needs to get out of the scene and back into doting husband mode.

"Make me, Maekyonite," she says.

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His alpha act is falling apart. His wife is just too fucking cute.

"Come to me." Her arms are open wide. "Husband."

The raw vulnerability is obvious on her face. She's rolled over to show her underbelly. She must be feeling the same thing. Play time is over. She needs his love.

For all their bravado, this is what ends up happening half the time. Setting up these kinky dom/sub situations is straightforward enough during foreplay, but now his wife is holding him and licking his face and her flesh is pulsing around him and the feeling of home and comfort is too strong, and they've fallen out of character and become two lovesick idiots again.

He can almost forget, when they're like this, what she's going to do when she leaves this room. The conquest she and her minions are planning.

No—that's letting yourself off the hook. You're planning it, too. But that voice is quiet, and it's getting quieter and quieter every day of his new life. Quiet enough now to be drowned out by shallow breath and slapping skin and beating hearts. So what, if his wife is a tyrant by Maekyonite standards? So what? He's the only Maekyonite he knows anymore.

His wife is a villainess, and he loves her. He loves his evil wife. He wants to have evil kids with her.

He plucks her off the ground and holds her aloft as their tongues slide and intermingle. "Thank you," he whispers to her. "Thank you so much, Batty." Their noses nuzzle. He gazes into her dilating eyes. "Your gift. I fucking love it."

She moans into his neck. "Anything." The crate squeaks as she gyrates to meet his body with hers. "I'll give you anything you want. I'll conquer the firmament for you. I'll have your babies. I'll be your pet. Anything."

--content omitted--

Her tail droops across his shoulder like a pageant sash.

"You're so heavy," she sighs.

He props himself up. "My bad."

"No. It's good." Her tail reaches past his shoulder to rub his scruff. "Oh, it's wonderful. If I didn't have to run this big dumb annexation, I'd wanna spend the rest of the day like this. Pull out and get me my panties, please, dove."

As he hunts for her underwear, she stretches like a cat, ass arched into the air, arms reaching forward. The shapely muscles in her back stand out.

"Three's not bad," she says. "But I'll bet we can beat it, somewhere easier on the knees. Now you've got me feeling competitive." She gives him an impish grin over her shoulder. "I'm not distracting you, dove, am I?"

"You're the one planning the invasion." He tosses Sykora her panties. "I'm the distraction. Long live the resistance."

"Oh, shoot," she says. "There goes Eqtora, I suppose." Her butt bounces adorably as she shimmies her underwear back on. She sees his attention and turns the motion fluid and presentational. She clasps her uniform back on and tugs her leggings up.

Grant rests his palm on the back of Sykora's neck as the choker disappears beneath its collar. "Where'd you get that originally, anyway? It was near the back of your jewelry drawer."

"Oh, I have no clue," she says. "A lot of my things are gifts from some toady or another and just go into overlooked little corners. I don't recall whether I'd worn it before you. Normally I'm much spanglier."

"We could replace it. Something more your style."

"Absolutely not." Her palm goes protectively to her throat. "All my favorite things are from overlooked little corners these days."

He shoulders his uniform back on while she unlocks the door and peers out of it. He guessed right—the crew who were in here have made themselves scarce.

She sighs. "I'm setting an awful example, you know. Coupling is to be done exclusively in registered couples' cabins or in a reserved room in the conjugal hab. I'm going to catch Gefreitor Reina driving stick-shift in the firing range again and I won't have a leg to stand on, disciplinary-wise."

He tucks the scriptomorph under his arm, along with the borrowed pulp book. "We'll rely on Hyax."

"For now, we will." She smirks as she leads him back to the lift. "Don't think I didn't see her ogling all those Eqtorans."

"That thing you do," he asks her, as the lift hums them through the Pike. "The muscle thing. Does that have a name?"

She nods. "It's called Nura's Belt."

"Can every Taiikari do that?"

"Other girls can, uh, flex," Sykora says. "But moving it the way I do took hectocycles to master. It's considered the mark of a nonpareil lover. Princess Nura was one of the greatest bedkeepers of the Terrestrial Empire. I read her books as part of my sexual autodidactism. They're fascinating and informative. And quite graphic."

"I still can't believe you learned all this stuff without a soul to use it on."

"I am a Void Princess of the Taiikari. I am always prepared. I knew I'd find a husband someday. I just needed someone worthy of my gifts." Her grin is broad and smug. "Don't you remember what I told you the night you won me? The night you deflowered me? This is how I keep you."

The lift slides to a halt. Sykora's tail thwips out to the button console and holds the doors shut a moment longer.

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She slaps his butt and skitters giggling from the lift.