Bambi's Alien Abduction Page 4

  I’m hoping for the best as I open one, take a sip, and sit down. It’s liquid, refreshing, and has no taste. I’ve got my fingers crossed I’m not drinking Alogorian piss or something weird while sucking the wineskin dry.

  A fuzzy glow sweeps through my veins, warming me, and I eye my wineskin suspiciously. I’m beginning to suspect that was definitely not water.

  Finishing my ass-wand bar, I push up from the table and sway a little. It makes me giggle. Then I recall the alien boners my giggling caused last time and try to stifle my laughter, which makes it worse.

  Oathar pokes his ridged head out the door of the control room. It looks like it’s floating, and that makes me laugh even harder. “Are you well, female?”

  “Are you well, female?” I mimic in a mock deep, gruff voice.

  Scowling, Oathar walks toward me. “You are ill.” Grabbing my chin, he turns my face this way and that. I drunkenly push him off me. “Niin!” he calls.

  “Call off your dog. I’m not sick. I’m drunk.”

  “I do not understand this.”

  “Intox-intoxi—” Crap. Intoxicated is hard to say. “Ineeebri-hated.” Oh, that didn’t sound right either. “It was the wine.” I grab the wineskin off the table, brushing up against Oathar.

  Tingles rush up my arms and through my body where we’ve touched. Holding the wineskin up, I slide my chest back and forth over his, a wicked grin pulling my lips up as his cock swell between us.

  His eyes flare and he’s not staring at the wineskin, but at my breasts. Opening the empty bag, I boldly dribble out some liquid until it rolls down, over my plump cleavage. He wets his lips, following the trails with his eyes, his breath growing heavy. Running my finger through the liquid, I paint his lips with it, catching my breath when he sucks my digit into his mouth. His teeth scraping over my finger shoots sensation straight to my core, making my knees weak.

  Using the hover seat as a stepstool, I climb my Beast Boy. His powerful hands automatically go to grip my ass, pulling me flush to his mighty erection as I wrap myself around him, practically groaning my need. Hooked nails lightly score me before they retract, and all I feel is fingertips. Even that little scratch shoots through me in little sparks of fire.

  Between his chiseled jawline, high cheekbones, amber eyes, and patrician nose, he’s quite handsome. I run my fingers over the vertical ridges on his head, playing over the grooved bumps, and a wild hitching purr-growl rumbles through him. It’s unlike anything I’ve heard before, but I instinctively know it’s a sound of pleasure.

  “Mmhmm, you’re into that.” I rub his ridges some more, just to make him growl-purr again. In the recesses of my mind, I’m totally aware that these are the actions of Three-Margaritas-In-Bambi, and even One-Margarita-In-Bambi would be questioning how freely we’re getting all handsy with this alien dude. But the back of my mind is a fuzzy far-off place right now. I bring my face in until our lips are all but touching. “Do Alogorians kiss?”

  “I don’t know this word,” he answers in an ultra-sexy, husky voice, but he’s gazing at my mouth like he knows exactly what I’m talking about.

  Keeping my eyes open, I lightly press my mouth to his then run my tongue over his bottom lip. His eyes flare, and I smile. I tilt my head, teasing his mouth open with mine. His lips part. Tentatively, I stroke my tongue into his mouth until he’s kissing me back. His hands tighten on me, but my world is narrowed down to his lips moving over mine.

  His long tongue invades my mouth. I nearly choke. “Too much tongue,” I pant, then go in for more.

  Quickly, he takes over the kiss. Spreading me out on the table, he holds my head and feasts on my mouth, rubbing his groin against me. I moan at the friction. His hand skims over my body. When his fingers brush over my beaded nipple, he jerks away from the kiss to watch. Back and forth, he tweaks my bud.

  Grinning, I pull the V of my shirt down low and pop a breast out of my bra—totally a Three-Margarita-In move—and he makes that growly purr sound low in his throat again. Mother Mary, that is the hottest sound, and I feel like a goddess when he makes it and gazes at me the way he is right now.

  With a light touch, he traces a bulb-headed finger around my puckered nipple. Palming it, he plumps it twice before jiggling it. The move startles a bark of laughter out of me. He jiggled my boob. He seems curious at my reaction and does it again, making me laugh even harder.

  I tuck my breast away and sit up, and he pushes me down, towering over me. “I am not done,” he says, his eyes still passion glazed.

  Whoa, boy. He watches me as he takes the bud of my nipple into his mouth, suckling and tasting until I squirm. His fingers are at the crotch of my panties, pushing them aside. I jerk, hazily grabbing at his hand to pull him away. Before I can protest, his face is there, his tongue inside me.

  I don’t think the plan was to pleasure me. I’m pretty sure this is his way of inspecting me or getting me ready for the egg launcher, and ohh, am I getting ready all right. I hold onto his ridges, grinding against him, and his eyes pop in surprise. R. Kelly strikes up in my head. My mind’s tell me no, but my body. My body’s telling me yaassss.

  He growls against me, getting into the spirit of things.

  “Oh, Yawn Toe General Guy,” I moan stupidly. I don’t even know what I’m babbling. My eyes roll closed as pleasure sweeps over my body, shivers of orgasm shaking my core. That tongue of his should have a patent on it.

  He works me over again with more enthusiasm than skill until I’m crying out, my body clenching and cresting against his face. He pulls back, his lips glazed with me, and his weird alien eyes glowing. His big hands spread me wide, and I panic, feebly trying to close my thighs. “Wait! No more. I’m done.”

  Tilting his head, he gives me a quizzical look. “Done? We have just begun.”

  That promising statement has my knees relaxing in his grip, but I register it as if outside myself. The sensual haze of the moment is drifting away. My head is still thick and my body weighted, but I’m ready to snuggle.

  I pick up the wineskin at my hip and then my arm flops down on the table, as if it weighs too much to lift. “That wine threw me for a loop.”

  His face pulls in a frown as he gazes at the wineskin and then at me. “I don’t know what this why-hnn is, but that was water.”

  That can’t be right. “Your water messed me up.”

  Standing, he brings me to a sitting position on the table. Tilting my face up, he studies me over, concern scrunching his severe brow. He looks so serious. I have a suspicion he’s always very serious, stern. Reaching up, I boob his nose and giggle at his startled face.

  “You’re not too bad, Beast Boy,” I tell him as I wrap my arms around his waist and settle my head against his chest. “You certainly know how to show a girl a good time.” He runs his fingers through my hair, and I wonder if he’s ever been with anyone with hair.

  Or breasts.

  Hell, even a Gyhan.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Elder’s Wisdom

  You must be your own master, lest you be conquered by a foe.

  Self-restraint is a key to being your own master.

  OATHAR

  The human’s lush form is pressed against me, her delicate arms and legs wrapped around me with surprising strength. I take a deep breath to steady myself. I nearly mated her, here in the common area. Even now my root begs to be inside her. I know her cha cha, as she calls it, is as warm as she is. Even more so. It’s as hot and wet as her mouth. I groan. Aching need pulses through me.

  I haven’t been taken by this overwhelming urge to plant my yhar inside a female since my father arranged my first mating with Nima, who had been in full heat. Even that hadn’t been this intense.

  Human’s mating cycles must be very strong to affect me this way. No wonder they have such an abundant population.

  “Yon Tor?”

  My head jerks up at Niin’s questioning voice and I realize I’ve been rubbing my cheek against her wondrous fur in contemplation. �
�Yes?” I answer, reluctantly putting space between Bombee and I.

  “There has been a cave-in at the mines, Yon Tor. There were minor injuries. A few Ikbar, Ik’lles, and Joran, but only one Alogorian foreman was hurt. The situation has been dealt with, but you or Jhyr will have to speak with the surveyor. He’s worried about the structural integrity of the mountain. The drilling done to that sect has exceeded what was originally planned.”

  Frustration spikes through me, and not only because the troubles at the mines have been increasing. I’m loath to put off mating much longer. If Bombee’s scent is any indication, her eggs are nearly to peak readiness. Goddess knows my yhar is more than ready to be planted.

  “I’ll go myself.” There has been too much trouble lately not to go. “You’ll escort Bombee to my domicile while I attend the matter.” Hopefully, it will not take more than a cycle or two at most.

  “Whoa, you can’t leave me behind.” Bombee, who had been quiet until now, pops off the table and sways. I grab her shoulders, steadying her and, like a frightened ling, she clings to my front. Niin’s face scrunches in disfavor at Bombee, but I’m too distracted by her cushy orbs pressing against my chest to be concerned about him. “Please take me with you,” she begs, and I have a desire to do just that.

  I shake my head. “It’s not safe.” The mines are a gruff place, full of intergalactic male species who have no loyalty to me or my people. The thought of what could happen to my delicate little Earther should one of those workers snatch her chills me.

  “Please, Oathar,” she says, in a small voice, probably hoping Niin can’t hear, but, as a species, our hearing is impeccable. “I know you can keep me safe.” She’s rubbing her bountiful breasts against me as she blinks up with her dark eyes. I sense this is a manipulation tactic, but I still find myself yielding. My little warrior has some wits if not physical strength.

  “All right. You may come. But you must stay by my side.” Bombee makes a high-pitched sound of excitement as she bounces in place. Her exquisite flesh wobbles in a becoming way, and my root swells again. The mining trip better be a short one.

  “I promise, I’ll stick to you like glue,” she says with a bright smile. I’m taken aback by how lovely she is, even with her odd features and blunt teeth.

  I have no idea what gulhoo is, but I nod in satisfaction, even as I worry.

  ~*~*~

  “We’ll be entering Lehor’s stratosphere in approximately one shift,” Jhyr says from the controls. Lehor appears huge and majestic out the window in front of us. It’s a beacon calling me home. No matter how many times I travel outside our world, the sight always grips me just as it did the first time.

  “Excellent.” We’re making good time. Bombee is slumbering on the mat where I’d first placed her after I’ commissioned her. I was loath to put her down and wish even now her warm form was curled on my lap. I can still taste her warmth on my tongue.

  She lightly rumbles in her sleep, and I want to pet her. What strange creatures, humans are with the way their faces change color with their emotions…and their emotions. She seems to have so many of them. I wonder if all Earthers are like her or if she’s unique.

  “Niin?” I query, thinking of when I found her in the common space. “Do humans experience mating fever?” She’d been hot to the touch and flushed a bright hue with her raised thermal energy.

  “I do not believe so,” he says, bringing up a screen connected to our database. “I shall see what I can find.”

  “Thank you.” Many species go into a full fever when their mating time is near, but she seemed surprised by her reaction to me. I’d been too caught up in my own mating call to question it at the time. Her willing supplication had been everything I could hope for, but she didn’t appear to be in control of her physical functionalities.

  “I am not finding anything on humans going through mating fever, but I found one article that says they get horny when they want to mate. Horny?” Niin looks at me in question, and I know I wear the same befuddled expression.

  “That can’t be right,” I tell him as he begins scrolling through data once more. Earlier I had been consumed with need to plant my yhar deep inside her, but I would have noticed had she grown horns.

  “Yon Tor,” Jhyr says. “There are storms moving over the mines. Do you still want to land there or take transport over?”

  “How bad is the storm?”

  “It hasn’t reached zenith. We have a window of time to land and get to your mah-kun, but it will be cutting it close.”

  Peering back at Bombee blinking her eyes as she awakens, I think to the closest post from my mah-kun at the mines. Open on one side, molded into the terrain, it’s a primitive structure modelled after the dwellings of our ancestors. Mah-kun dot the desert and offer shelter to any traveler. Being Yon Tor, my mah-kun is more stocked with tash stones and coverings, but I’m still not certain my delicate little Earther will fare well for the night. “Keep course. And have a hildy ready for transport and waiting for us upon arrival.”

  The largest landing and docking strip is near the mines because of all the off-planeters who come to work and do business. Arranging quick transport will be easy.

  “Holy shit,” Bombee says behind me. Her exclamation of “‘sacred bowel ’matter” makes no sense. “What planet is that?”

  A smile tugs at my lips. This close to the planet, we mostly see swirling hues of gold, dotted with strips of shimmering magenta. It’s truly a wondrous sight from space. “That is Lehor,” I tell her with much pride in my voice.

  “Your planet?”

  “Our planet.” I’m not sure why I used the inclusive. I know it sounds as if I’m speaking for me and my people in general, but a part of me wants to include my breeder in that. Wants her to see my domicile as hers while she carries my ling inside her. Anything past that I will not contemplate.

  “Come.” I hold out my hand, motioning her near me. She’s sweetly rumpled in a way she wasn’t the last two times she awakened. There is no fear or uncertainty emanating from her this time. Thankfully, it would seem whatever fever took her before has passed. I’m not sure if I could keep from hauling her off to breed if she was still in a mating fever, and there is no time for that.

  Easing off the mat, she takes my hand, and I pull her onto my lap, her legs dangling between mine. The warmth radiating off her is exquisite. Although she does not protest, her body is stiff, and she casts covert glances at Niin and Jhyr who are going about the business of readying us for landing. If they question my actions of preferred closeness with the Earther, they hide it well, as they should.

  “Preparing for landing, Yon Tor,” Jhyr says.

  “Hold tight,” I tell Bombee, and her eyes snap to me, even as she grips onto my arm.

  “Why?”

  Just then we break into Lehor’s atmosphere. Bombee gasps at the gravitational pull as we speed ever downward. In the distance, what looks to be a wall of crackling lightning, shoots from sky to ground in rapid succession over a stretch of two kilometers.

  “What the hell is that?”

  A smile tugs my lips, the spirit of life pumping through my veins. The mighty energy of the storm calling to my inner warrior. “That is the Storm of Ghbril, and why you should hold tight.” Ghbril is our ancient spirit and warrior god. Our ancestors believed his storms showed the fierce might of Lehor and would bring good fortune to all who survived them.

  Surviving them has become a lot easier over the centuries but will be more of a challenge landing in a spacecraft. The lightning often creates a disturbance in air waves and radio frequencies, emitting waves of static energy. The closer we get to the landing bay, the more the craft will be affected by this. The landing is going to be rough.

  Bombee’s scream tears through the control room as we hit a convergent stream of energy. The shuttle drops before rising. She wraps her luscious form around me, burying her face in my neck. The craft jacks this way and that as we descend ever closer to landing bay.

>   I grip her lush form to me, watching the night sky light up in front of us in brilliant bursts.

  Elation sings through my lifeblood.

  BAMBI

  We’re all going to die.

  This is it.

  The end.

  The ship is being tossed around like a tin can at sea. If we were on an airplane, the yellow mask thingies would be dangling in front of us. When the shuttle starts shaking, I can’t prevent screaming into Oathar’s neck. I clutch him as if that will somehow save me. I’m sure this shuttle is going to be a million pieces of broken metal consumed in fire any second now.

  Oh, Brook and Bri. I love you, my dearest friends. If there is an afterlife, I’m going to find you in death and be your guardian angel.

  We’re plummeting from the sky. I cling even tighter to Oathar, sure we’re floating off his seat with the force of our descent. It’s more falling than descending.

  We’re falling.

  From the sky.

  I hear a rumble in my ear and a vibrating against me and realize Beast Boy is chuckling. Incredulous, I gape up at him. “You’re enjoying this?”

  The second the question is out of my mouth everything comes to a jarring standstill. Our harrowing fall is now as gentle as a feather floating down. I look around, and we’ve entered what must be the docking bay.

  We’re landing. And alive.

  The relief that whooshes through me is dizzying.

  I think I’m going to be sick.

  Beast Boy has a sparkle in his eye as he smiles down at me. He looks like a little boy who just rode his first roller-coaster and loved it.

  I ease my stranglehold on him.

  “You’re crazy,” I tell him. Who enjoys that kind of turbulence? A crazy Alogorian, that’s who.