Alien Desire by Hannah Haze

Chapter sixteen - Tor

The sleep I tumble into after plundering the Omega is the deepest, most content and restful I have ever known. I don’t dream, I don’t stir, I am too exhausted, too utterly spent, and my body and mind still soaked in ecstasy.

I think I would sleep for days if it wasn’t for the little Omega nudging me, pawing at me and begging for more. I’m hard in an instant, the mere thought of sinking into her a second time enough to have me completely aroused.

I flip her over on to her stomach and drag her up onto her hand and knees, pulling her sex towards my hard cock. I’m all instinct now, the animal inside me unleashed and freed. My usual busy mind, so logical and so reasonable, is completely lost to lust.

Running my hands over her luscious curves, I stare down into her opening, dripping wet for me, and I can’t resist the urge to bury my face there again, no matter how desperately she pleads for my cock and no matter how keen I am to give it to her.

She smells most intense here, so fertile and peaked. I can hardly believe what she’s told me, that the medication they’ve given her will prevent pregnancy. My nose tells me otherwise, tells me pumping this Omega full of my seed will fill her belly with children.

The smell is simply irresistible, the most fragrant and delicious dish laid out before me, and I drag my tongue through her folds, allowing her juice to smother my tongue and sink into my bloodstream. It’s like a narcotic. It makes my head dance and my skin hum.

It reminds me of when I snuck into the pantry of our chambers as a child. On the top shelf sat the honeypot, only removed and taken down on special occasions such as my birthday. I’d lay awake dreaming of that honeypot and now, as the chef sprawled napping, was my chance. I’d climbed the shelves and perched on the top one, dipping my small head inside the wide brim of the pot and immersing my tongue in the sticky amber.

The Omega wriggles against my mouth and I remember how much she liked this from before, how I could make her lose her mind with the movement of my tongue. I seek out that tiny button of hers and play with it, tease at it like a predator might its prey. I dance with it, flicking this way then that, changing up the rhythm, building up the pace and then slowing it right down, taking my time as I linger and hover over it with long graceful sweeps of my tongue.

She is a mess, hardly able to remain on her knees, moaning and groaning, begging and pleading, losing the ability to speak. I slip a finger inside her, massaging her from the inside as I work from the outside and her body begins to tense as it did the last time and her legs shake. The little nub quivers against my tongue and then that explosion of pleasure rips through her. Her spine arches, her nub pulsates and her cunt sucks at my finger hungrily.

It’s filthy, obscene, squalid. And I love it. I know now that the only place I want to be in the whole of this universe is between her legs.

She’s still coming when I pull my finger from her and grip her hips, yanking her backwards onto my cock. I don’t give her an opportunity to adjust, I’m too far gone, too insane with lust for this woman and I pound into her, my hips hitting her backside with a wet thwack each time.

Fucking, that’s what she’d called it.

Not procreating, or mating or copulating. No; this is fucking. This is doing it just for the pure sake of it. Just because she needs it and I need it. Just because it feels so insanely, fucking amazing.

Yes, this is fucking. And I fuck her hard, showing her no mercy, the sensation of her soft cunt gripping me, holding me, the feel of our bodies creating a combined friction. The sounds she makes as she begins to climb again are too glorious for words.

My own body chases after her, racing up and up, the tension building from my core to every muscle of my body. Then it breaks with her and we crash together into an ocean of pleasure. I cling to her, as if this blast of feeling will blow us apart. Then my knot expands, locking us together as I fill her with my seed.

Afterwards as I cradle her to my chest, I worry it was too much for her, that I unleashed the power and strength of my body on her — far too violent for the little human thing that she is. I nuzzle into her neck, peppering her with kisses and lapping at the soft skin of her gland.

She freezes when I do this and her body stiffens.

“Are you ok, honeypot?” I ask her.

“Honeypot?” she says, with a hint of confusion and amusement in her tone.

“Yes,” I grind into her, “my honeypot.”

“You can’t call me that,” she giggles.

“Yes, I can. You taste as sweet as honey. It is a term of endearment.”

“OK,” she says slowly, “then what should I call you. Beefcakes?”

I frown. “I don’t understand.”

“Never mind,” she says, jiggling her backside against me. “Do what you were doing to my neck again please? It felt …”

I lap at her gland and once more she stills. “You like that?” I whisper.

“Yes,” she pants, “I want you to … can you bite me there?”

“It’s your mating gland,” I say against the tissue, knowing the vibration of my lips will send her wild. “If I bite you here, then we will truly be mated for life.”

“You already said Alphas and Omegas are stuck together for life once they mate.”

I bristle at the choice of her words. But I let it lie. She knows so very little about what it is to be an Omega. But then I also was ignorant of certain things until only a few hours ago.

“Yes, because an Alpha will claim his mate — bite her mating gland and activate the bond between them — when they mate. The bond is powerful and cannot be broken without irreproachable harm to both mates.”

“Oh,” she says, thinking.

I lick her gland, smearing my saliva over it and she shivers. Talking of this has me wanting to do it and I force my mouth away. Instead, I let my fingers trail down her body, discovering again the silk of her skin, the valleys and peaks of her body, the sweeps and the curves, the velvet texture of her nipples, and the soft sensation of the curls between her thighs.

I draw patterns over her skin, I mark her with my name, I write out statements telling all others that she is mine. The lull of my fingers over her body sends her drifting off to sleep.

I lie in the stillness, the only noise the rush of our breaths and the faint churn of the generators.

I am changed.

Everything I have ever known has been false, everything I was ever told lies.

I am in a new universe indeed, where everything is the same, yet different. A slightly different hue, a slightly different flavour, a slightly different pitch. The differences are miniscule and tiny, but the impact vast.

How have I lived all these years and not known the pleasure of another being’s touch? How have I been ignorant of the pleasure that can be gained from my touch pleasing another? How can I ever return to the life I was living? Starved of the simple necessity of holding another in my arms, of pressing my mouth to theirs, of tasting them?

How can I return to a world where copulating with an Omega is an act purely for mating when I know how earth shattering it can be?

I did not know so much ecstasy existed in the confines of my own body. I did not know that the key to unleashing it all was my cock and the lock the wet, ripe cunt of an Omega.

I stroke back her hair from her face, her skin hot to my touch, and she stirs, moaning in her sleep. I can smell how sweet she is and I’m harder than I’ve ever been. I’m desperate to wake her and have her again, the thought making my mouth water.

But I need to stop acting like a lustful animal, and start acting like the good, responsible Alpha I should be. So carefully, I slide my arm out from under her, careful not to disturb her, and tiptoe out of the room in search of water and food.

When I open the door, I nearly trip straight over the large figure of Fluffy, laid out dutifully. He lifts his head and glares at me beneath the curtain of his fur and quickly I shut the door before he has the chance to sneak into the bedroom and wake Emma. He throws me another sinister look and drops his chin back to his paws.

“Too bad,” I tell him, “you’re not getting in.”

Although, once I’ve gathered the supplies I need to feed the Omega, I realise that with him blocking the doorway, I’m not getting back in either.

“Move,” I bark at him. His eyebrows twitch but otherwise he remains in place. “Move,” I say again, nudging him gently with my toe.

He lifts his head and growls softly at me, as if he doesn’t want Emma to hear. We have to pretend at least to get along.

I try to step over the hulk of his body, but the growls grow more menacing and he bares his teeth at me. I have a strange impression he knows what we’ve been doing in there and he wants to prevent any more of it.

At this point, Sheila intervenes cheerfully. “A reminder that the pet has not been fed in the last twenty-four hours.”

“He’s an animal. Doesn’t he feed himself?”

“I have no records or intel on what this species eats in the wild.”

“So I must feed him?”

“Space Cadet Steele feeds him regularly every morning. But Space Cadet Steele is …” the computer whirrs for several moments, obviously struggling to find the internal vocabulary.

“Unwell,” I eventually tell her.

“Space Cadet Steele is unwell and unable to feed the pet this morning.”

“Fine,” I say, dropping the supplies to the floor. “What does Space Cadet Steele feed this thing?”

“Space Cadet Steele has been feeding the pet the tins of stewed steak.”

I have no idea what this is but I go back to the store and with a little guidance from Sheila, I find the tin and shovel the brown, turgid looking contents into a bowl Sheila informs me belongs to the pet. As the hideous smell of this food hits the air, the shagball comes bounding in and I am able to gather up my supplies and sneak back into the room.

I find her awake and instantly know something is wrong. She’s curled up into a ball on her side and whimpers loudly. I rush towards her, scooping her up into my arms.

“What is wrong, Omega?”

“I thought you’d gone. I thought you’d left me … alone.”

“No, I am here, see.” I kiss her damp cheeks and her temple and hug her tight. “I went to get you food. Are you hungry?”

She flinches, grappling at her stomach and the smell of fresh slick races between us. Her body is hungry for mine. I kneel at the edge of the bed, and she rolls down onto her back, parting her legs for me and giving me a view of her rosy, plump lips shiny with slick.

Stroking my hands up the tender flesh of her inner thighs, I draw them further apart, allowing me to look at her, all of her, laid out on display for me, and then I drag her slowly towards me. She whimpers as I do, knowing what’s coming.

“You want me to fuck you again, my honeypot?” I ask her, my voice hoarse with lust.

“Yes,” she says struggling to get her words out, “but don’t call me honeypot.”

I’ll call her what I damn well like, and she will love it. Because I’m her Alpha. And my primal urge to control her and own her has overtaken every part of me.

“I’m going to pump my cock inside your little honeypot,” I tell her as I drive inside, “and you will love every moment of it.”

I lift her hips clear of the bed so she’s suspended, lanced by my cock, allowing me deeper inside. And I fuck her, my earlier resolution to go easier this time, lost. I have no self control.

Afterwards, when I’ve knotted her, I sit on the bed, with her in my lap, her legs wrapped around me, and I feed her the combination of food I’d found in the store, with additions from my trunk.

She wants to feed herself, but I won’t let her. I want to do it, choosing which pieces of food to place in her mouth, deciding how big a mouthful I’ll allow her.

“I like feeding you,” I tell her when she rolls her eyes at me yet again. “And I like kissing and fucking you too.”

“Only like it?” she asks, meeting my eyes.

I cock my head. “You are offended by my choice of words.”

“Hmmm,” she says, chewing some bland bread product from her world. “People like plain, ordinary things. Things that don’t cause any real emotion. They don’t fight for the things they like. They don’t die for them either.”

I dove into the freezing lake to save her. I walked through the storm to find her. I even fed her stupid animal. She may have a point.

“How do you feel about kissing and fucking me?” I ask her.

She plants a kiss on my nose and smiles.

“That isn’t an answer,” I tell her.

“I like it very much.”

This confuses me and she reads it on my face and laughs.

“Ok, I love it,” she confesses.

That word once more.

Love.

“I think I love it too.” She pauses, searching my eyes, her own flicking ever so slightly in their sockets. “I understand why humans do this for reasons other than procreation.”

“Because it feels amazing.” She tilts back her head, showing off the curve of her throat, and I sweep my hands up her bare back and kiss the pulse in her neck. “On earth they write music and poetry about it. Paint pictures too.”

“Let me claim you,” I blurt out, the words racing from my mouth before I can stop them. “Come back to my planet with me and be mine.” This is not how I had planned to lead up to this. I’d planned to do it slowly, win her over to the idea. I know she is homesick. That she longs to return to her own planet.

“What?”

“Come home with me.”

“To what? Be your mate? I don’t want to be someone’s wife. I want to be out there,” she points towards the window, “exploring the universe. It’s why I joined the space cadets.”

“I thought you wanted to go home.”

She falters for a moment. “I do … I mean …”

I don’t push it. I can see she is as confused as I am about what she wants.

Emma is not like the other Omegas I’ve known. Not content to spend her days locked away in chambers, hidden and shielded from the world. Revered, yes, but excluded.

Or maybe she isn’t so different. The only other Omega I’ve truly known is my mother and she is miserable and alone. I see now how traveling the universe, exploring, would have suited my mother. She has a curious nature, like me.

“Besides, I’m only twenty-four. I’m too young to settle down.”

“You don’t want a family of your own?”

The question floors her. “Even if I wasn’t on contraception, the likelihood of me conceiving when we are two different species from two different universes is tiny.”

“I know this.”

“And so you’d be happy with a mate who couldn’t give you children?” She flicks her hair from her face, then eyes me. “Or would I simply be one of several? Like your father. An exotic addition to your collection.”

“I told you I don’t agree with my father’s ways.”

“But no children?” she says more softly.

She is right. I was so blinded at first by my exuberance at discovering an Omega, at fulfilling my quest, I had not considered this. And then my feelings for her had overtaken my judgement too. But she is right. What is an Alpha without children? What leader could I be with no heirs?

I remember again the way this human had peered longingly at the picture of her planet and my resolve to give her what she wants.

She seemed so sure something bigger than ourselves had brought us together but now I wonder if that was just temporary, a mere moment together in our lives, a fleeting, passing of time. Because now I see clearly that there is more pulling us apart than pushing us together.