“You can’t have her. She belongs to us.”
“We want her.”
“No.”
The conversation continues in this vein for a few more minutes. The trolls really seem to think that if Boss and the others just understand that they want me, they will have to hand me over.
“Give now or we attack you.”
They say the quiet part out loud.
There is a scraping of chairs and the jolting of tables as the other aliens collectively try to get out of the way. Nobody wants this heat, least of all me. I think about trying to escape in the chaos, but it feels like that would be an out-of-the-frying-pan-and-into-the-fire sort of situation. These trolls are clearly dangerous. Even the yellow fluffy thing must have had quite a bit of respect from the others that they just allowed it to accost me without anything resembling competition.
The Minotaur—that’s what he is—lowers his head and the horns glint in the intermittently shiny lights of a sort of alien disco ball. He snorts furiously, and two puffs of hot breath escape his nostrils. He’s going to absolutely destroy anything he encounters, and everything he is about to encounter seems to know it. Except the trolls. They stand there, stoic and sort of stupid looking. That’s probably an inaccurate judgment. The fluffy yellow thing didn’t look dangerous and turned out to beheinously perilous. Can’t judge books by their covers out here in the alien wilds.
Sharp pulls a handle from his back. Two very long, very sharp blades slide from the interior on both sides. He grips it in one hand and spins it in a way that is so fucking sexy and so fucking dangerous. He sweeps it through the air in a reverse figure eight, and the tip of one of the blades runs through a bottle of some kind without any resistance at all. It just looks like the bottle decided to be two separate pieces spontaneously. Anything that blade touches is going to be sliced in two. We better hope he doesn’t hit anything structural or load bearing. The attacking aliens seem to be very aware of this, in the sense that they grunt.
I am waiting for Kronos to pull out a sword or a battleax or something barbarian, but he simply lifts his hand and fiery electricity, or something that looks a lot like it, starts to crackle and leap in his palm.
Holy shit. He’s magic. Or something so technological it is indistinguishable from it.
I don’t see much of the actual fight because the three of them surround me, pulling me into the space between their backs as they face the hostile aliens who want a piece of me.
Fights in movies take like ten minutes of flashy angles and grunts and stuff. Real fights last less than twenty seconds sometimes. This one lasts about ten. The troll aliens don’t back down, try to come through the shield of alien flesh around me, and are absolutely destroyed in turn.
When it is over, there are bits of troll on the floor.
“We can probably sell that armor,” Kronos says. He picks it up and proceeds to auction it to the others in the bar. A kindof snake-looking alien with a forked tongue gives them ten thousand credits for it. Nobody mentions feeling entitled to me.
The matter has been settled in a way the universe fundamentally respects: brutal violence.
“She needs to be claimed,” Boss says, looking at me with the eyes of a Minotaur fresh from battle. “If she doesn’t smell like us, if there’s no word that she’s been taken, they’ll keep trying. She needs to be bred. Now. Only way to keep her safe.”
“He’s right,” Kronos says. They’re all talking to each other. Not to me. I’m not part of the discussion as to whether or not I get fucked.
Sharp picks me up and seats me on the table. His hand slides between my thighs and I feel a light but insistent pressure over my clit. I am wearing leggings. The material is thin and slick and the ridges of his scaled fingers are quite detectable over the sensitive bud of my clit.
I blush as I realize how swiftly and easily I am handled by these creatures, and moan as my clothing is removed. I am going to be exposed and fucked in front of a whole bar, and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s for my own safety.
“Settle, pet,” he murmurs in my ear. “Relax and enjoy this. Let me discover you.”
He’s terrifying, but also kind of charming.
My leggings are split down the middle and my pussy is exposed. I am dripping with desire as Sharp makes a dominant yet gentle effort to learn my body.
“This little nub brings you great pleasure, doesn’t it,” he says, circling it gently with the pad of his thumb. I try to close my legsout of some desire to hide myself from the eyes of the world, or at least the bar. He eases them back open firmly, and Kronos holds one leg, while Boss holds the other. I am spread and I am teased. When I look down, I can see the alien’s fingers on my pussy. I am soft and pink and I have a few curls of dark hair down there. The hue of his skin is closer to blue and the scales keep rubbing over my clit.
Every time I try to pull my legs closed, they tug them back open again and he continues the slow tease of my pussy, running his finger down to the entrance of my body, which is pooling with desire.
“Very pretty,” Boss growls, moving his massive head closer to my ear. His presence is massive and it could be intimidating, but I am turned on. Fear turns me on, I’m learning. I was frightened when the trolls came, and I was frightened a different sort of way when these three killed them and now I am scared in a new way. Vulnerability comes in many forms.
“They’re looking,” I whimper.
“Yes,” Sharp says. “They are. They’re looking, and they’re seeing who you belong to. They’re learning that you have been taken, marked, and bred.”
“Marked?”
I feel a sharp, swift pain on my neck, nice and low where the muscle meets my throat. Kronos just bit me, swift and hard enough to make the skin redden and almost bleed. Under any other circumstances, that would hurt like hell. With Sharp toying with my pussy, it feels more like a harsh flush of pleasure.
