Alien Survivor: Stranded on Galatea

Everything I knew, everything I had come to understand as truth, had been duly undermined in the course of the last several days. My work, my relationship, my friends, colleagues, my home- everything. When I spoke with Ayla and Robert in front of the blazing bonfire, I knew one thing unequivocally: someone had been tampering with my work. Someone had fixed my sample selection; someone had misreported the findings. Somewhere, something had been purposefully sabotaged, because there is no other explanation. Unless there is some unknown element planetside on Galatea which makes hybrid conception possible a highly unlikely option, given what we know about the planet already then someone has been destroying my work from the inside out.

And Christian was alive and looking for me. Was Cat alive, too? My colleagues on the Leviathan, were they with him? My test subjects, all of the souls for whom I cared so deeply-it was too much to keep in mind at once. My brain was an unkempt cutting room floor, and I couldn't escape the flashes of their faces across the cinema screen on the backs of my eyes. But then there was Danovan, and there was plum wine and dancing and sweet meats and celebration and I wanted to be possessed by him. I wanted to feel his strong arms around me, and I wanted him to fill me up and make me forget everything else. He was the only sturdy thing in the chaos of my life, and I wanted to take him inside of me and feel what it's like to have him. The wine made me bold when I tugged the gown off over my head, and let my adornments fall to the floor. He looked at me for one long, silent moment, eying me like a predator might eye its prey, before he swept me into his arms and carried me silently out of the wet room and into his chambers.

I forgot about the pain in my leg as he laid me down on the bed, a nest of down pillows and handmade quilts. He stared down at me, the intensity of his eyes boring into me, before he tugged his tunic off over his head. He was chiseled, as it from stone, and the muscles of his abdominals rippled as he bent to tug off his pants.

I watched with wide, expectant eyes as his sizable member sprang free, rigid and ready. He was a remarkable specimen, the tribal paint on his face a temporary echo of the dark tattoos that climbed up his thigh and around his hip: designs in repeating, box-like patterns.

He didn't give me much more of an opportunity to gaze at him before he dropped to his knees and pried my legs apart with his hands, his fingers fiercely gripping my flesh. He trailed a flurry of kisses along my uninjured thigh before spreading the delicate petals of my sex wide and lapping at the pith of my desire with the tip of his eager tongue.

A moan emanated from my parted lips as I ran my hands over my breasts, my hips moving of their own accord along with the rhythm of Danovan's ministrations. His tongue moved lower, lower, until it was probing at my entrance; the sensation sent a shudder down my spine. "Please," I groaned, "Please..."

"Not yet."

He kissed his way up my pubis mound and along the valley of my belly, up the curve of my breasts, until he flicked his tongue playfully over one of my nipples, hardened with my wanting. By the time his mouth reached my mouth, I could feel the head of his turgid cock pressing insistently at my wet entrance. I arched my back and curled my hips forward, wanting to feel him pass the threshold and fill me utterly. His tongue was an intrepid explorer in the cavern of my mouth, and his hands curled around my wrists, pressing them down and holding me in pace against the nest of pillows.

I couldn't take it—I needed him. I felt frenzied, possessed, and I tried to thrash my body beneath him, but he was so heavy, and the air was so heavy, and all I could do was wait. He smirked down at me as he locked his eyes on mine. "Tell me what you want," he said, his voice a husky grumble in his throat.

"I want you to fuck me," I begged, admiring how his silver skin all but glowed in the moonlight. I could still hear the music and the crackling of the bonfire outside, but the world had nearly fallen away. And it fell away completely when he finally thrust himself deep into me.

I cried out, filled to capacity by his probing phallus, and pleasantly surprised by the presence of a small ridge at the base of his pubis, perfectly positioned to stimulate my clitoris as he moved in and out of me at an increasingly fervent pace.

"Oh, God," I shrieked, wanting to grip him, to hold onto him, but he was still pressing my wrists down. He plowed himself into the center of my desire, and I was shocked to find my climax starting to build already. My orgasm broke like waves against the rocks of my wanting, and I called out his name while he rode me to completion, the muscles of my internal wall clamping down around the intrusion of him.

He grunted, murmuring something in breathy Galatean, before pulling out of me and releasing my wrists from his grasp. Then he circled an arm around my waist and turned me over, lifting my ass into the air before he thrust himself back into my dripping wet orifice. He gripped me fiercely by the hips and I could do nothing but curl my fingers around the blankets and hold on for dear life as he had his way with me.

His hands traveled up my sides until they came around to the front of me to cup my breasts as he fucked me from behind, and I let myself go, allowed myself to revel in the purse sensation. One of his hands abandoned my breasts and traveled south again, and he began to rub at my sensitive clitoris as he plowed into me. "I want to feel it again," he said, his tone low but urgent, "your climax. I want it again."

I pressed myself back into him, more than happy to oblige his request. I grew tense with the onset of orgasm, lost to the feeling of him deep inside of me, his fingertips on my most sensitive place. I thought of his impending release and experienced my own, again, at the thought of him coming inside of me. And with a cry of his own, that is precisely what he did. His hands came back to my hips as he thrust finally into me, pouring out his seed. We were both sweating, panting, in the aftermath of it, and he teetered on his knees behind me as I felt his enormous cock began to soften. After the span of a few heartbeats, he pulled out and I could feel his emissions running, hot, over the lips of my sex and down my legs.

Danovan collapsed next to me and tugged me toward him. I settled in to rest my head against his chest, our bodies sticky with our efforts. He fell asleep there, with me curled in his arms. But I couldn't rest. We would be leaving Hiropass in the morning, and I didn't have the words to ask him if this was merely the result of too much stress and too much wine, or if I could have him again, and again, and again.