---Jennie’s Perspective---
As I leave the Commonroom and round the corner into the hall, I catch the briefest but also most entirely unmistakeable glimpse of Cuddles’ broad shoulders (along with the rest of him) disappearing into Tuun’s room with two, dark blue, four fingered hands at the scruff of his neck.
All thoughts momentarily banished from my mind, I stand, agog, stock-still for a few moments, gazing down the hall.
Did I imagine that?
No!
There’s no way!
Does it mean what I think it means?!
As silently as I can manage, being an engineer with no stealth infiltration background, I creep down the hall to stand outside Tuun’s room.
I strain my ears and here nothing.
Not silence, as if there is no sound being made. Nullity, absence, the complete lack of all sound interaction, the unmistakeable sound void that could only be induced by a privacy field!
I gleefully hop from one foot to the other, shaking my palms in front of my chest.
There’s only one thing this could mean!
It worked!
My efforts have finally paid off!
---Brunhilda’s perspective---
“It me being! Good boy being! Mummymummy! Good boy being me!” Sam yips, energetically as I rub his cheeks, his tail thudding into the floor 10 times a second with sufficient force to break a R’qali’s leg.
“Yes, that’s right, you’re Mummymummy’s best boy!” I smile.
Just then my door slides open, all 164cm of my freckled, curly haired, hazel eyed, Gàidhealtachd-Ùrian girlfriend barrel through my door. Her expression fixed into a manic grin.
“’Sup, Dormouse?” I question with a raised eyebrow.
“Hildy, you’ll never guess what! Oh, hi Sam, would it be alright if you went to the Cuddle Puddle without us, tonight?”
“OK smol mummy! Hoping you and Mummymummy making many mummy puppies tonight!” Sam answers happily as he pads from the room, past Jennie’s knees.
I snort. His support is adorable but, no matter how many times I try to explain the concept of recreational-nonprocreative sex to him, he never grasps it.
I stand and can’t help but feel a smug sense of self satisfaction as my girlfriend’s eyes momentarily flick down and back up, over my body, which is currently only clad in utilitarian, sports underwear.
Treading slowly over to the door, I lean over her shoulder and engage the door lock and privacy field.
My heart swoops as I see Dormouse’s cheeks flush red, clearly struggling with the effort of looking up, into my eyes, and not level, at my chest.
As I wrap my arms around her and start unzipping her floral dress and gently kiss her forehead, I ask “OK, I’ll bite… *kiss* what’s got you so worked up? *kiss*”
Her dress drops to the floor and she says “I just saw Tunie pull Cuddles into her room!... Then, I went to see if I could listen in and they’d engaged the privacy field! They must finally be taking the plunge!”
This stops me in my tracks and I look up, considering.
Eventually I say “Isn’t that a bit of an abduction?”
“Yes!... She ‘abducted’ him into her room!”
Bemused and amused I say “Which one of us is the meathead SO and which is the twice doctored genius, again?”
She looks abashed and says “What did you mean?”
Pulling her close to me and resting my chin against the top of her head while running my hands against the soft contours of her back, I answer “I mean you’ve reached a conclusion from a single premise and are ignoring alternate possibilities…”
She scoffs, releasing a pleasing tickle of air into my bust.
“What alternate possibilities?”
“Like, maybe she wanted further clarification on what he told us earlier about his fetish and is too embarrassed to ask in front of us but isn’t actually interested in trying it out? Maybe she’s had some kind of emergency that she needs help sorting out and Victor was just the first one by? Perhaps, she’s sworn a blood oath to rid the galaxy of all kinksters and we’ll find Victor assassinated and an escape pod missing tomorrow(!?)” I respond.
Snorting, she asks “You think Tunie could take Cuddles!?”
My hand cups and squeezes her cute little arse cheek, causing her to gasp.
“Yes! Without question! You’ve obviously never heard the expression ‘wài fāai bat pō’!” I say, a little pleased with my Cantonese intonation. “You just don’t know because you’ve never watched us do CQC. Tuun is easily more than a match for me and Victor working together, in short term, explosive bouts! Granted, we have to hold back slightly because if we actually landed a blow, full force, we’d send her to the medical room or, a not indistinct possibility, the morgue, and once she’s done two minutes she has to take 20 minutes of rest and refuel before she’s ready to go again… but even still she’s scary! You just can’t hit her! She’s so fast! Her reaction times are insane! Her flexibility and acrobatics are a marvel! She hits us sixty times for every one pathetic, glancing blow we manage on her (even if it does feel like being hit by an 8 year old, each time she hits us)! She makes me feel like I’m moving and thinking in slow motion by comparison! If she wanted any of us dead… we’d be dead!”
Tracing the fingertips of her right hand up my thigh and over my hip and of her left up the centre cleft of my abdominals, she raises an eyebrow, curls her lip revealing that charming diastema, and says “…And you think it’s more likely that she’s sworn a blood oath to rid creation of all the sexually degenerate and is currently, or was recently, brutally butchering our Dorm Liaison than that my efforts have finally paid off and they’re about to make sweet, passionate, kinky love?!”
“No… I…” I freeze.
Grasping her by her sides, I curl my arms to lift her hazel eyes level with my blue ones. Her feet dangle a full 30cm off the floor and she squeaks, delightfully, in surprise.
With my eyes boring into hers, I ask “What do you mean your ‘efforts have paid off’!?” sternly.
Face as red as beet and now failing to make eyecontact, she stammers “W-w-well… I-I… you kn-know… it was so obvious they were interested!...”
With comprehension, I roar “You were making her jealous on purpose!? Weren’t you!!! Fuck! That time Victor asked her to sing at karaoke with him and you, ever so sweetly, suggested I should join in too! On that sand world where you said you needed cloth for that machine you were working on and asked him for his shirt then later, when I found the cloths and pointed them out to you, you went ‘teehee, oops!’, you vocalised ‘teehee’, I assumed you were just being a horndog! Earlier tonight when he asked for help in the kitchen and you volunteered, despite her being the clear choice to carry things, having an extra pair of hands! When you asked him, not me, to open that jar, then made your ‘gun show’ comment! Did you even need help!? When we were messing with Tcakqaal and you suggested that we involve Victor in our bedroom! Did you see her face!? She looked like she’d just watched you drown a bag of kittens!”
Without an iota of compunction her eyes flick to me and momentarily startle me into forgetting that I mass 90kg to her 49kg and am currently bicep curling her to my eyelevel.
Then she smirks “Yes! And I would do it again! All my puppets danced so well!” she mimes marionetting.
“But…!”
“C’mon, Hildy! You’ve seen the eyes they were making at eachother! It was obvious that they wanted to but just as obvious that they weren’t going to without a little nudge! All I did was… give them a nudge!” She bites her lip, seductively.
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Still holding her, I turn around and march to my bed. I throw her onto it and pin her down.
Her cute little eyes staring up at me hesitantly, I sigh “…And, are you happy now, you mastermanipulator?”
“…well… much as it pains me to see two such gorgeous babes fall prey to the chains of monogamy… as well as, presumably, metal… I’m very happy as long as they’re happy…”
I shake my head, feeling not a little jealousy at her clear attraction to both of my fellow security officers. I get off her and whisk off my sports bra before lying, face down, on the bed.
Thrusting a thumb at my back, I say “I think you owe me a massage, as recompense for using me as a pawn in your fucking mindgames… as well as for that ‘chains of monogamy’ comment!”
I get so jealous of her unbridled flirtatiousness with everyone and everything as well as her clear chafing at the confines of our relationship… she doesn’t seem to moderate her behaviour at all! If she weren’t so adorable I would never put up with it… and brazen… that’s part of it too. I love that brazenness! On the day we met, when Qorak showed me into the rec room she walked up and flirted shamelessly! He was still in the room! It was such a gamble but she clearly knew what she was doing because she hooked me!
Hesitating a moment, she gets up and I hear the sound of her unclipping her bra, followed by it hitting the floor. She then walks to my dresser, presumably to fetch the massage oil.
I feel the mattress shift as she climbs onto and crawls across it. Then I feel the weight of her hips atop mine. She lifts up my ponytail and kisses the back of my neck with her bare breasts pressed into my bare back. Fuck, that’s hot!
She sits back up and I moan with pleasure as she works her, surprisingly strong, oiled, little hands into all my knotted muscles.
---Jennie’s Perspective---
I wonder if my GermanoIrish Amazon warrior can feel the wetpatch, against her arse, yet? I wouldn’t think so with the mild water-repellence of those sports undies but… she is really good at picking up subtle cues. Could she tell from temperature or texture, or something? What am I talking about!? Of course she knows! She doesn’t need to feel it to know that I’ve got a waterfall in my panties!
Fuck, that straight, long, blonde hair! Those muscles! The way she picked me up earlier! The way her biceps and trapezoids… popped, when she gestured for me to rub her down. The way she glistens from the oil! Those moans! I don’t think she knows what she does to me: The runty little girl from the suburbs of New Stornoway, who got estranged, at 19, for bringing home her girlfriend from uni who looked like the offspring of a runway model and an axolotl!
How such old-fashioned prudes ever found themselves as precontact first generation colonists is beyond me!
Why would anyone leave their cradleworld and travel halfway across the galaxy… only to live in suburbs!?
They wanted me to marry an accountant! Thanks Dad(!) Thanks Mum(!) A space accountant(!) Very sexy(!)
Poor boy looked so embarrassed. I wonder what he’s doing now…
My statuesque paramour breaks me from my train of thought by asking “Dormouse…?”
“Y-yes?”
“You’re pan, right?”
“Theist or sexual?”
“Sexual… wait…?” she turns her head to look at me, sidelong, with a single eye.
“You’re a pantheist?”
“Yes and no, why don’t we come back to that? You wanted to ask about my sexual history?”
Her cheek flushes red “…Yeah… just wondering what your headcount and gender/species roster looked like…”
She’s very clearly insecure but I can’t think of a way to deflect the question without making her more upset… I also don’t want to lie to her…
I sigh “Well… unless I’m forgetting… my first was a Xanajoaxan (F)… since then; 12 Humans (F), 9 Humans (M), a Human (NB), a Vifatn (F), a Goalatioth (M), a Shaltax (M), a (FF) Threndian couple, a (FM) Xtvinatian couple, and a lovely (FM) Rethijj couple.”
“Fucking hell!” she responds, slightly aghast. “Did you say ‘Rethijj’? Like Kwijj?”
I nod “It was extremely intense!… it took both of them four tentacles to lift me into the air… they had, between them, a tentacle in my mouth, a tentacle in my arse, two tentacles in my pussy, a tentacle covering my eyes, a tentacle coiled ‘round each of my tits, four tentacles holding my arms above my head, two tentacles on each leg, spreading them, and they still had nine tentacles left to play with the rest of me, all prelubed with water-retention gel… when I came they uncovered my eyes, unstopped my mouth and flash a neon lightshow that got translated into the voices of Idris Elba and Tilda Swinton asking me if I needed to go to the hospital, fixing me with one, dinnerplate sized, eye each.”
She’s clearly a little disgusted at the description of one of the most erotic experiences of my life.
I decide to try and break the ice with a joke “Oh and, how could I forget!? That really charming Kwilion!”
Her brow furrowing at the absurdity of that she says “How? The hedgehog people?!”
I nod.
She asks “How would that…?” and then breaks off, clearly realising her mistake.
“With great care!” I smirk.
She groans. “Are you sure you haven’t put ‘mummy puppies’ in me at some point? That was such a Dad Joke!”
I giggle.
There follow a few moments of silence, punctuated only by the sound of my oiled hands rubbing her oiled skin.
“What did you mean by ‘yes and no’ when I asked if you were a pantheist?”
I hesitate. “…Well… there are certainly elements of pantheism that appeal to me… but, I think, it’s more accurate to describe me as an ‘omnist’.”
Looking sideways with, what I infer to be, a single raised eyebrow, she says “Pretend I don’t know what that means…?”
I think for a few moments, trying to find the words.
“I think… all gods exist. Not like… in a big extradimensional hall, laughing at our antics in scrying pools… more like… as concepts… mnemonics or comprehension aides, that people use to understand a universe that… no matter how powerful our minds may be… is infinitely more complex and complicated. Each god exists and is real to their worshippers.”
She thinks for a moment “Can you give me an example?”
“OK… like Tuun; Odin is her way of understanding wisdom, Loki is her way of understanding mischief, Thor is her way of understanding storms. Or the Captain; the Titan is her way of understanding largeness, the Pygmy is her way of understanding smallness, the Mother is her way of understanding competence, the Father is her way of understanding compassion. I try to acknowledge and respect all gods and give thanks to the appropriate ones when appropriate. When I… had my experience with those Rethijj, I thanked the Lord of the Deep, when I… took a Hindu girl, I thanked Rati…”
She frowns “How do you reconcile the gods that say they’re the only god and the god of everything?”
“As I said, I try to respect and acknowledge all gods, it’s not my place to tell the devotees of those gods that they’ve put too many concepts in one basket. Those gods are real to their worshippers and I have thanked the Abrahamic omnigod more than once(!)”
She chuckles, then smiles.
“So… what god do you thank when we make love?” she mocks.
I smile, prepared for her agnosticism. Turning her over… well, more accurately… pulling on her shoulder to indicate that I wish her to turn herself over. The bedsheets get incredibly oily but I’ll just throw them in the nanoforge tomorrow.
“I give thanks to my goddess, Brunhilda “Samus” Arran.”
She laughs “Fuck, that was corny!”
I smile and place a reassuring hand on her face. “I’m not going to lie, Hildy, my pussy has seen a lot of action… but… right now… it’s yours and no one else’s… OK?”
She looks as if she might cry for a moment before lying back, closing her eyes, reaching out to cradle my crotch through my panties and saying “OK, hotstuff! If it’s mine then I want it on my face!”
I smile, we can work on feelings another time… sex now.
I whisk off my panties and, as fast as lightning, have my girlfriends Nordic nose pressed against my clit. Her glacier blue eyes stare up at me from between my thighs, her lips pressed against mine, her breath hot and stimulating.
With smirking eyes she begins.
My spine curls and I gasp, reaching out to steady myself on the headboard.
How the fuck does she do that!?
I was ready to go but the speed with which she can make me melt into a puddle is absurd!
I look down into those icy blue eyes. She clearly knows exactly what she’s doing and has no intention of slowing down.
Her lips and tongue powerfully probe my labia and opening, the tip of her nose stimulating my clit.
Fuck!
I try to lift my hips away from her mouth but those strong hands of hers reach up to pull me back down.
I can feel her clavicle against my arse.
By all the gods!
I’m about to cum. It’s creeping up.
I moan.
“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”
I slump to the side, exhausted, shivering, gasping for breath, eyes closed.
“Y’alright?” I hear her query.
“You…*gasp*…know…*gasp*…damn well…*gasp*…I’m not…*gasp*…HOW?” I say, opening my eyes.
She smirks, her face covered alluringly in my juices
“Practice!”
“I’ll…*gasp*…do you…*gasp*…in a moment…*gasp*…just, let me…*gasp*…catch my…*gasp*…breath!”
“Take your time…” she smiles, wryly.
---Brunhilda’s perspective---
I sit down on Dormouse’s cute face.
My knees rest a little above her elbows and her eyelashes tickle the cheeks of my arse.
She’s trying to write the alphabet on my clit… fucking adorable!
I look down to see her slender legs, trim waist and pretty little cunt… still soaked.
“Cad é an ifreann!?” I say, switching to my good-for-nothing, criminal father's language, for a moment.
She stops, I stroke her stomach reassuringly and say “It’s good, keep going, you just took me by surprise, is all.”
She’s not usually this skilled! All that wild sex, seemed to leave her cunnilingus skills wanting.
“Why is a vegetarian suddenly so good at eating pussy?” I quip.
She chuckles, which produces interesting sensations.
Her hands reach up to curl around the small of my back.
She gently pulls me down.
The greedy bitch! She wants me to do her again!?
My jaw hasn’t recovered from a few minutes ago!
Well, I’m a big girl and my little is indicating that she wants more… who am I to complain(?)
The height difference means that I have to curl slightly to get my mouth onto her vulva.
I begin working my tongue and lips over that adorable little pussy, causing her to moan into me.
My hands caress, up and down her legs. She quivers and trembles.
I can feel myself building and I can hear her building.
I try to hold off, it would be nice to cum simultaneously, mutually.
I manage to hold on until about three seconds before her.
I cum… she cums.
Both of us spasm from the pleasure.
Catching our breaths for a moment, she laughs. “Your accent…*pant*…is terrible!…*pant*…You sound…*pant*…like a farmer!”
“It’s not…*pant*…terrible…*pant*…it’s Irish! …*pant*…Irish Gaelic…*pant*…is a natural…*pant*…language…*pant*…not like…*pant*…Harmonised…*pant*…Gaelic!”
She taps my leg “Stick to…*pant*…Germanic…*pant*…languages!…*pant*…ItaloCeltic…*pant*…languages…*pant*…don’t suit you!…*pant*…Too elegant!…*pant*…You sound…*pant*…so sexy…*pant*…when you speak…*pant*…German!”
I laugh “You realise…*pant*…you’re in a…*pant*…minority…*pant*…for finding…*pant*…German sexy!”
She laughs “Lots of…*pant*…my kinks…*pant*…are minority!”
---a few breathless minutes later---
“Babes?” she says, hopefully.
“Yes?” I answer, knowing that tone.
“I’d like to play a trick on Cuddles and Tunie for subjecting us to their will-they-won’t-they… How would you feel about waking up early for a pancake party?