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Starmen is a fun story by Raven Willow-Wood. Vincent and Miroc had me laughing at several scenes. They honestly thought the women were being abused! Starmen is also a passionate tale. The first time the women attack the men for sex is because of the effects from a drug, which I did find a little off-putting. Despite that, I did enjoy Starmen and will certainly watch for more tales by Raven Willow-Wood. Two Lips Reviews-Four Lips!
STARMEN
By
Raven
Willow-Wood
(c) copyright January 2007 Raven Willow-Wood
Cover art by Jenny Dixon (c) copyright January 2007
New Concepts Publishing
4729 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
"You think of something," Vincent muttered, irritated himself now since Miroc seemed determined to shoot down all of his suggestions. It wasn't like he was in the habit of doing Miroc that way. No matter how hair brained Miroc's ideas were, and some of them were pretty wild, he usually agreed to go along. "You're the brains here. I'm just along for the ride. How are we going to explain having them?"
"One of these days …," Miroc growled.
"You're trying to blame this on …." Vincent was distracted from his outrage by something petting his leg. He looked down to see Jo-dy, stroking his leg as if he was a favorite pet. His belly clenched.
Apparently, not content with that much contact, she started rubbing her face all over his leg, the top of her head just barely grazing his naked manhood in her attempt to get as much of her skin all over as much of his skin as possible. Alarmed more by his instant reaction than her behavior, he jumped back, falling on his ass since she didn't relinquish her grip on his leg.
"Something is definitely not right," Vincent muttered in a strangled voice. "She's acting like I gave her a sexual stimulant instead of a sedative," Vincent added, glancing at Miroc for help and discovering his friend had a cling-on of his own to worry about.
Sweat beaded his brow as Jo-dy worked her way upward, wantonly caressing his flesh with her hands and body, tasting him with her lips until the blood pounding in his skull and his nether regions began to feel volcanic in nature.
He was going to choke Miroc for talking him into this, because if she kept it up he was going to be forced to do something really stupid and illegal, like fuck her brains out, and then they would be in a hell of a mess. Four seasons of imprisonment was a walk in the park compared to what sexing an alien species would cost them.
Placing one hand on the top of her head to hold her off, he glanced at Miroc for help again. "I could use a little help here, damn it, man!"
Miroc's eyes were rolled back in his head. The guttural noises he made, apparently in an effort to respond, made Vincent distinctly uneasy considering the female seemed to have swallowed his cock and she should be the one choking.
Cannibalism, he wondered?
Or maybe they didn't consider it that since they were a different species?
Before he could reason it out, Jo-dy, who'd been driving him half mad by nuzzling her face against his lower belly, sucked his testicles into her mouth and began to make a humming noise. He almost exploded right then.
His fingers fisted reflexively in her hair. As if that was some sort of signal to her, she released his testicles and, before he could drag in a decent breath of relief, covered his cock with her mouth.
His eyes seemed to roll back in his head-or he went blind. In vain, he struggled to recall some of the language he'd been so carefully translating. Realizing finally that that was useless, he tried to prod himself to rise so that he could grab her and pull her off. He couldn't seem to do anything but writhe helplessly beneath her, for it took every ounce of concentration he could muster to keep from coming.
"This OK not," he said hoarsely when she finally lifted her head.
She smiled, her eyes heavy lidded, though not, obviously, with sleep. "Better than OK," she murmured, shoving his limp arm away and nibbling and licking her way up his chest.
"Not law," Vincent muttered a little desperately, grabbing her shoulders and trying to hold her away from him.
"No it isn't," she agreed pleasantly, dipping her head and devouring his mouth in a searing kiss, suckling his lips and darting her tongue daringly in and out of his mouth.
When she straddled him, enveloping his member in her hot, wet cleft, Vincent lost the battle for reason. Grabbing her, he tipped her onto her back and began a mindless search for the paradise she promised. "Fuck it," he muttered to himself. "She'll never remember it anyway with the Slephlurr."
She was so tight and hot and wet he almost lost it before he managed to work his cock inside of her. She groaned as if he was killing her, but one look at her face was enough to reassure him it was ecstasy, not pain that dragged the sounds from her, and that was enough to finish him off.
Grabbing her hips, he began pounding into her frantically until it began to seem like a race as to whether his heart, his brain, or his cock was going to explode first. She screamed, bucking against him, her channel quaking around his cock.
Rapture engulfed him as her body continued to milk him of his seed, the explosion so powerful it not only rocked him, it dragged a hoarse cry from him. Almost the moment his body ceased to convulse, he sank into a euphoric semi-conscious haze, collapsing weakly on top of her, too drained of energy even to consider moving.
Time seemed to stand still. Slowly, his heart rate and breathing returned to normal, however, and his brain began to function again.
When it did, something occurred to him that hadn't in the heat of the moment. The Slephlurr hadn't put her to sleep as it was supposed to. It had had a wholly unexpected effect on her, and if that was the case then neither could he count on the Slephlurr producing the memory loss it generally did.
Thoroughly roused now, Vincent pushed himself up and looked down at Jo-dy. She'd either lost consciousness from the sedative, finally, or, more likely, she was sleeping the sleep of the sated. Ordinarily, the last thought would have pleased him. At the moment, it didn't.
When he rolled off of her, his first thought was to look around for his co-conspirator.
Miroc lay sprawled on his back, the woman on top of him, his face a perfect picture of a moronic bliss, which told its own tale even if not for the fact that the woman was still mounted on his shaft.
At least he wasn't the only one in deep shit, Vincent thought irritably as he got to his feet with an effort.
It occurred to him after a moment that maybe he still wasn't exactly thinking straight. Miroc was out like a light. He wasn't exactly a credible witness to his crime. He had probably been too busy to notice what he was doing.
Just on the off chance that the Slephlurr actually had worked as it usually did, he stalked over to the transporter area, snatched his loincloth up, and put it on.
The woman, he saw when he returned, was dripping 'evidence'.
Maybe Miroc wouldn't notice that, though.
Shrugging, he nudged Miroc with his toe.
Miroc snorted and swatted at his foot. "You do beat all, you know that Miroc?" Vincent growled. "All that whining about doing time for making contact, and then you go and fuck the woman?"
Miroc struggled and finally managed to open one eyelid a fraction of an inch. After staring at Vincent blankly for several moments, he looked down. Both of his eyes popped open and his shoulders came up off the floor.
Shaking his head, Vincent leaned down casually, lifted Jo-dy's limp form from the floor and tipped her over his shoulder. Straightening, he headed toward his private quarters at the back of the ship.
Once inside his cabin, he laid her down gently on the soft folds of his sertese, watching it mold to her body, memorizing every inch of her. Unable to resist, he leaned over her, his hands on either side of her face, taking in the sweetness of her expression. He wondered how this amazing woman could still shine so beautifully after having endured so much at the hands of her own kind.
The desire to kiss her came to him suddenly, almost overwhelming in its intensity. Slowly, agonizingly, he moved closer to her slumbering form, until his whole body was a mere tantalizing breath away from her. If he took a deep breath, his chest would caress hers. His exposed nipples hardened at the thought, and his cock began to pulse back to life. Traitor, he thought of his cock. He swallowed convulsively, realizing that for perhaps the first time in his life he was nervous, unsure of how this woman was affecting him, and she was doing it all in her sleep.
This woman is probably desired by every man on her planet. She has almost certainly known the loving caresses of many. And what a body to caress. Disconcerted at the direction his thoughts were heading, he stopped just short of pressing his now very needy body against her luscious figure.
What was he doing?
He remained perfectly still for several moments, battling the temptation to keep going. One side of his mind was saying, go ahead! You're already screwed! The other reminded him that he wasn't absolutely certain he was screwed--yet.
Sighing with a mixture of irritation and disappointment, he pushed himself up and away from her sleeping form and left his cabin.
It was a crying damned shame he couldn't count on the Slephlurr erasing her memory of the events just prior to blackout. If he'd thought for one moment she wouldn't remember …. He killed the thought abruptly. He couldn't just callously dump her back among her own people, not after all they'd done to her, even if it meant saving his hide. He was going to have to think of something else.
He bumped into Miroc in the corridor, who was just coming out of his own cabin. Something teased at his mind, and he frowned thoughtfully, trying to jar it loose as he headed back into the main cabin and plopped down in his seat at the table they used for dining and work.
Miroc, looking a good bit worse for wear, dropped into the chair opposite him, staring glumly at the table top as if he could see the germs crawling across it.
Dropping his elbow onto the table top, Vincent propped his chin on his fist and studied his colleague. "Miroc, you haven't by any chance been fucking around with the genetic properties of the Slephlurr, have you?"
Miroc had glanced up at him when he'd called his name. At that, his eyes widened fractionally. He looked down at his hand almost immediately, studying his cuticles with frowning concentration. "No, why?"
Vincent began drumming the fingers of his other hand on the table top. "Just curious. I've never heard of the stuff having such an effect on anybody, and I'm damned if I can see anything about Jo-dy that leads me to believe she's that different from us."
Miroc shrugged. "Maybe it's an anomaly."
"In the plant?"
"Uh, yeah."
Vincent's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You sure you didn't get bored and decide to do a little experimenting with the Slephlurr?"
Miroc slammed both palms against the table top and stood up abruptly. "If you're going to accuse me of something, I don't see why you don't come right out and say it! I'm in a world of shit already, man. Give it a rest, will you?"
Vincent studied his friend with interest, trying to tap the sense of relief threatening to well to the surface.
Miroc hadn't noticed. Now, all he had to do was something creative with the ship's security recorder and he was home free.
"All right, fine. If you say you weren't screwing with it, I'll take your word for it, but I still think it's damned strange."
Miroc ground his teeth in frustration. "I messed with it! Ok? Happy now? And now I'm screwed."
"If you'd told me that to start with we could've avoided all this, but you just let me think I was sedating them."
"As if I could think with them making that racket! I had clean forgotten about the tests. Besides, as far as I could tell, it really hadn't changed anything. It's not like I had something to test it on."
Vincent studied his friend thoughtfully. "Was she good?"
"Shut up!" Miroc growled.
Vincent stood up, patting his friend on the shoulder consolingly. "Never mind. We'll think of something. We always do, don't we?"
Miroc looked at him with a mixture of surprise and hopefulness. "You'd … help me out of this?"
Vincent gave him a look. "Hey! We're best buds! Of course I'll help you out! What are friends for?"
Miroc looked so relieved Vincent felt just a little guilty, but he'd promised he would help him out, and he would. There was no sense in both of them being so bummed out that they couldn't think straight. If nothing else, worse case scenario, Miroc might need somebody on the outside of the prison that was on his side.
After trying without a lot of success to rake his fingers through the tangled mess of his long black hair, Miroc scrubbed his hands over his face tiredly. "I need to get cleaned up."
"Sure. I'll just give this all some thought and see what comes to mind."
"You're not going to set a course for home?"
"Now? I think we better consider other options before we think about doing that-leave that as a last resort. We're not due to check in yet. That gives us a little time to think up alternatives. Before-you know-I figured we could probably get out of anything serious, considering the circumstances. This is a whole other problem."
Miroc studied him for several moments and finally sighed resignedly. "I'm not really comfortable with the idea of getting you more involved than you are already. This could be-really unpleasant, especially if we try to cover it up and they find out we covered it up."
"Forget it. I'm not going to let you go down for this if I can help it, not when we were trying to play good Samaritan and it just went badly. Our motives were pure. Just remember that."
Vincent pushed a small panel in the wall near the table and two pairs of telephonic translators emerged. He took one pair and handed the other to Miroc. "We're definitely going to need these."
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