#snapped | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonshine-nightlight · 10 months

Text

Snapped - Part 3

Mech’s not sure why the aftermath of this mission is hitting him so hard, but he’s doing his best to calm down when Gwen’s presence shatters his control. Now it’s a count down to see if he can figure out how to put a stop to the instincts and hormones that are running wild inside him—before he does something they’ll both regret.

Science fiction, alien romance, male alien x female human

Story Status: COMPLETE

AO3: Snapped Chapter 3

[Part 1] [Part 2] Part 3 [Part 4 - NSFW]

“Right now,” Mech begins, trying to think of the best way to explain this without giving anything too revealing away. It doesn’t help that his mind and instincts want to tell her, his trust in her overriding his knowing that she doesn’t want him in that way. “My brain has decided to flood my bloodstream with hormones to an alarming degree, which are in turn, affecting my thought process and making my brain produce even more chemicals in response.”

Gwen nods and Mech tries to think on how to continue his explanation instead of how her hair would feel, slipping through his fingers as he–. “I need to either reverse, neutralize, or however I can stop more reactions from happening. Then I need to see if I can flush any of these hormones out of my system. While the sedative is helping for now, we’ve got a time limit before I won’t be able to think again. In that case, you’ll need to lock me in my quarters and hope I can just wait it out.”

“Sounds like we should work now while we can,” Gwen says, but he watches her head over to one of the ship’s computers and start pulling up the security for unused cabins. Smart girl. Mech purposely looks away from what she’s doing and back to cycling through possible serums. If they get to that final option, he wants locking him up to succeed even if his mind has forgotten why it needs to. Mech appreciates her not drawing attention to this option or arguing with him. It’s in everyone’s best interests that, if he can’t find a solution, he’s locked up where he can’t get to her. Gwen continues, “What was that, um—you called it a sedative, right? What was that supposed to do?”

“It was supposed to slow down the release of additional hormones and counteract some that had already been released,” Mech replies, trying to stay focused on the content of her words and not how pleasing he finds her voice. Not being able to see her helps, but he can still sense her heat, her scent swirling through the closed room with ease. He pulls up the sendative’s formula and the sample of blood he fed the system, trying to see if there are any obvious reasons it’s failing.

“How well is that working?” Gwen asks, but she saw his reaction, his lapse in control, earlier. She must know the answer already.

“Not well at all,” he confirms. He can see now it’s not that the sedative isn’t working. It’s outnumbered and overwhelmed. His blood has a truly staggering amount of hormones, still being released in waves. The sedative has already bonded with as much as it can. “I thought it would have a more significant impact, but it could only do so much and it’s already used up, so to speak.” He would have to take a lot more for an additional effect. That would likely lead to blocking the release of necessary chemicals as well as an overabundance of the compound the bonding process produces. “If I take enough to handle the problem, it’ll poison me.”

“Ok-ay, yeah, no—don’t want that,” Gwen replies, turning her back on the screen she’d been using—so hopefully whatever room she set up to quarantine him is prepared now. That sends some ripples of relief through him—he’s not sure how he’ll able to weather the hormones one his own, but at least she’ll be safe. Hopefully, she’ll stop looking so concerned once he’s locked away. Although, when had he turned back around to look at her?

“So what’s the next move?” Gwen asks, interrupting his thoughts. She nibbles on her lower lip as she thinks and he wants to replace her teeth and tongue with his own. Her lips must be so soft and– “You gave your computer something to analyze, right? What did it say?”

“The program identified my condition,” Mech says, forcing his eyes away from tracing her collarbones, all the lovely skin her pretty dress is still leaving on display, to the screen in question. He pulls the case studies back up. “It’s happened before, but not often and under different circumstances.”

“Like what?” Gwen asks, her voice more curious than concerned, but another glance he can’t help her reveals she’s only trying to act that way. She always starts messing with her hair when she’s worried. The strands twirl around her finger and he wants to see them haloing her head as she lies underneath him, moving as he–

“Two people at once,” Mech manages as he stares furiously at the screen. Recriminations sound through his head just loud enough to drown out any imaginings of what she might sound like as he claimed her as his mate. He begins running through some of the medications they tried on these individuals. They’d all been on his home planet when the imbalance seized them. Does he even have all of these materials? Their weathering of their systems was primarily done with supportive care as they gave into the insistence of their hormones. Mating for days in some cases until the hormone surge was satisfied. His voice is rough once more as he continues, “So they were able to help each other.”

“But there’s just you,” Gwen realizes, worry and sympathy in her voice. She’s such a compassionate person. Surely she would understand his predicament, if he just explained. Maybe she would be willing to help him. She wouldn’t want him to suff–no, Mech cuts off his traitorous thoughts, knowing he would hate himself if he awoke from the surge to learn she’d mated with him out of pity or worse, that he’d tricked himself into hearing what he wanted to hear. “And you said I was only sort of helping.”

Mech bites back the words to explain in graphic detail exactly what she’s doing to him. Her presence remains a double-edged sword—a distracting one that is as liable to defend him as it is to cut him. “Right.”

“Sorry,” she says and her voice is so falsely casual he has to turn around. He sees her shrug and give an attempt at a smile. “Only human I’m afraid. Still, better than nothing, yeah?” She looks like he might blame her for being human, like she feels bad she can’t do more when it's a miracle she’s being as tolerant of this, this disgraceful lapse in control on his part.

“Of course.” Mech can’t have her thinking any of this is her fault. He reaches out to comfort her, to reassure her that she’s not failing at anything, that there’s nothing for her to feel guilty for, before he remembers why that would be a mistake. His arm falls back to his side, useless. Instead he tries to meet her eyes, needing her to understand. “I’m very grateful you’re here, Gwen.”

Her eyes measure his words before her smile turns far more genuine and it’s like the first drops of rain after a drought, refreshing and revitalizing. He can see the individual flecks of gold in her brown eyes, the delicate curls that frame her face, the red of her lips.

A beep draws his attention away, causes him to realize he’d stepped closer to her without even noticing.

“Okay, it’s generated a list of formulations we can create here with the supplies on hand,” Mech says, forcing his mind into the science as deeply as he can. Trying to lose himself in the problem rather than in Gwen.

The news is as sobering as it can be. By virtue of the previous cases affecting couples, most of the treatments heavily relied on their mating. Significantly, they require complimentary pheromones as a key ingredient to lessen the intensity of the effects. Dosing the affected individuals with each other hormones in addition to those introduced via actual mating, tricking the hormones into thinking they already had enough of what they craved. Judging by the one couple who surged at the same time, but hours away from each, that was also how the duration was shortened.

Human hormones of his “mate”, if he were in close enough prolonged contact, would likely help, but they could not be extracted from the venom for extra dosing because humans didn’t have any venom. And it would need to be human sexual pheromones, more concentrated than just the typical riotous blend they generated in abundance. So even that solution is heavily reliant on mating with Gwen, which is the one thing he definitely cannot do.

He furiously types updated parameters into the system, ruthlessly screening out all suggested formulations that required the use of complimentary mate hormones. He can see, out of the corner of his eyes, that Gwen has drifted closer, clearly attempting to understand what the results might be since he’s stopped explaining.

Mech can’t let her get any closer. “Most of these require supplies we don’t have or chemicals from the other who’s afflicted. I’m trying to narrow it down to a list of solutions I can actually make.” She still takes another distracted and curious step closer. He can’t even make his mouth form the words to tell her to stay back because he wants her closer. Wants to feel the heat she gives off against his skin, he wants to take in her scent directly from the source, lick the taste of her and—

“Can you get that other case of materials? I think it’s just back up of what’s here, but maybe there’s something else in there I forgot about,” he asks and Gwen brightens at the chance to help.

“Sure thing,” she replies and heads over to the other side of the room.

Mech turns his attention back to calculating which of these proposed solutions has the most promise and is the most efficient use of the compounds on hand.

He actually is able to refocus on the problem. He’s starting to hope that maybe the sedative just needed more time to kick or that he can create a more targetted one that won’t have too many negative side-effects. He doesn’t even notice when Gwen comes over, a cabinet or two down from him, with the case he asked for. She opens it and slides next to the other. It's only then that he looks at her again. He forces his eyes to stay away from her, forces them to stay focused on the carefully labeled packages and plants from his home in the case.

Just as he thought, there’s really only one or two that are different from the primary case—minor seasonal fluctuation in when they were assembled. Still, he dutifully plugs those new compounds into the system and waits to see if that alters the results.

The distant sound of the air filter system kicking on almost doesn’t rate notice either until it blows a strong stream of Gwen’s scent right into his senses. His nostrils flare and so do his spines, his claws extending into the wood of the countertop instantly.

“Mech!”

He’s already flung himself back towards the door, eyes lit up as he tries to get out of that tempting, delicious airflow. “Turn it off!” he hisses, closing his eyes as he anchors himself in place. Gwen doesn’t answer, but he can hear her pushing the cart aside to get to the control panel on the wall.

Despite his best effort, the airflow has re-circulated Gwen’s scent thoroughly throughout the medbay. He feels the pull to where he can sense she is. Humans have such strong pheromones by nature that Gwen’s typical scent is more than enough to convince his mind in this state that she’s ready for mating. His mind is spinning as he digs his claws into the wall as he strains to hold onto the knowledge that he can’t go to her.

His senses are in such an aware state that the sudden rush of cool air over his head feels more like a faucet of cold water. He lets out a surprised noise, that was not a yelp, and blinks up to see the vent over the door wide open. Tilting his head back down, he sees Gwen still at the controls, clearly running some sort of air purification program, pulling the air from her side out of the room and pushing out fresh, sanitized air from his side.

Mech had forgotten that of course the medbay was equipped with more than the ship’s typical air filtration system. While obviously they couldn’t run a full air sanitation program with two living people still in the room, this refresh is still very helpful. Gwen’s eyes meet his own and he’s surprised by how much worry he can see in them. He thinks his eyes are still glowing, but he’s careful to relax his spines, breathing deep of the fresh air and withdrawing his claws from the wall. “Thank you,” he says, mind actually fixed on the gratitude he feels for the clear head and only minorly on how lovely her hair looks as artificial wind tugs at it.

Gwen gives him a shaky smile and wisely keeps the program running, staying where she is on the other side of the room. “Glad I still knew how to do that. Never thought I’d have any reason to be grateful for that shipment of squezares for bursting.”

Mech shudders in memory of the smell that had spread throughout the ship what that particular cargo had been damaged. “Not sure it was worth it.” Gwen’s smile gets more solid at the joke and Mech finally feels something like solid ground under his feet. He hadn’t noticed how much her scent was affecting him. Staying as close to the fresh air vent as he can, Mech reaches over and manages to pull the diagnostic screen to him. But before he can look at the results it’s populated, Gwen speaks up again.

“I know you said that even if I’m not a graviel, I’m better than nothing,” she says, looking hesitant and frustrated and guilty for no reason Mech can think of, “but are you sure that’s true?” Gwen meets his eyes and he hates how desperate she looks all of a sudden. His reaction to her increased scent must have really worried her. The mental clarity the fresh air has brought him is overwhelmed by his innate desire to comfort her. He takes a step closer on instinct, needing to sooth her anyway he can. She holds up her hand, this time telling him to stay back and it cuts far deeper than he knows it should. Because she’s right. He should stay away if he’s the reason she looks this distraught, the reason they're in this whole mess. “Because I still don’t understand what’s happening to you and it seems like I’m making things worse. Every time it’s gotten worse has been my fault.”

“Not your fault,” he insists. “I promise it’s my fault. I keep forgetting or trying to—” He cuts himself off before he can say “claim you as my mate”. Between his own mind and the way, no matter what filters he puts on it, the system keeps insisting he do so as well the thought is always on the tip of his tongue. “Trying to act as though you’re affected too, like the other cases.”

“Are you sure there isn’t more I can do?” Gwen pleads. “You’re holding yourself back and it's hurting you. I’m not gonna break or get mad at you or whatever. It’s not as though your instincts want to fight me or something, is it?”

“No, not…” Mech swallows down venom and forces himself give an answer, any answer to get her to back away from this line of questioning. Even now he can feel himself wavering. Would it really be so bad to tell her the truth? What if she wants—No. He can’t let himself think such things. But he can’t have her thinking he wants to hurt her either. Not that he seems able to help it, going by the look on her face. All he can do is shake his head and hope she can hear the truth in his voice, “Nothing like that.”

“Mech…”

Gwen gives him a look he can’t interpret, only that her skepticism is clear to him. But at what he has no idea and with all his hormones raging it's too easy for that confusion and fear to meld into frustration. “It’s very hard to think, alright?” he snaps. “It’s heard to hear, in a sense, anything that isn’t what my body is telling me.” He needs her to understand what’s at stake. “If I stop being able to hear you…”

“But if you don’t want to hurt—” Gwen tries to argue, a stubborn look on her face. If only she understood what she was pushing for and how much he wants to take her up on that offer, damn the consequences.

But he can’t. He knows the risks, knows the consequences. Even now, his instincts also want to keep her safe and happy, even as they want to claim her. Mech’s pretty sure that’s the only reason he’s as lucid as he is. That he’s resisting as well as he is.

“Accidents happen, Gwen,” he replies, frustrated at his inability to articulate the danger to her without giving himself away. “I’m stronger than you, physically. I could hurt you. And I didn’t just mean literally hear you. I meant interpret any communication, including physical movement, as signs of possible distress. I’m essentially drunk. People do all sorts of dangerous and potentially harmful things, when out of their mind, even if they don’t intend to. Even if they wouldn’t under normal circumstances.”

“Okay, okay,” Gwen puts her hands up. “I get it. I just think that if chemistry isn’t working—which it really doesn’t seem like it is—that you should just stop beating around the bush and tell me what your instincts want.” She looks over at him earnestly. “I don’t know shit about your biology or chemistry, but maybe I could help you figure out another way to handle everything. Something practical instead of scientific. I feel like I’m trying to help with one hand tied behind my back.”

“Gwen,” he runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

Gwen glares back at him, the frustration in every line of her body mirroring his own. “Just tell me!”

“Fine! You really want to know? My instincts,” he lets the words out through gritted teeth. He no longer has the strength to keep them in any longer. All his focus has to be on not acting on them. “They want you. They want me to claim you,” he chances a look at her face, “Make you mine. My mate.”

“Oh!” Her eyes go very wide before they dart away from Mech’s, likely embarrassed for him. And herself. And this whole cursed situation. “I’m sorry. I know you must…” She bites her lip which Mech really wishes she wouldn’t. “Sorry. How can I stop…” She makes a vague gesture at herself.

“You can’t,” he replies bluntly. “You need to be here so I don’t think you’re in danger or with rivals, but you can’t touch me or I might not be able to hold myself back, not quickly enough.” He swallows, finally articulating his greatest fear which feels more real now that she knows. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Gwen’s whole expression softens. “You would never hurt me.”

“Wouldn’t mean to,” he allows, flicking his eyes back to the screen, but all the words are out of focus.

“Wouldn’t,” she replies stubbornly, jutting her chin out. To his relief she doesn’t keep pushing it, allowing the sound of the vents working to fill the room as he finally is able to read the screen.

She can’t seem to keep silent long. “Do you know why your instincts picked me?” she asks tentatively. “Or why now? If we knew that, maybe we could reverse it or fix it.”

“Don’t know why now—makes no sense. Must just…” Mech shakes his head. Probably just a matter of time. “Here,” he pulls up a fieldguide and throws it over to the screen near her. “Find that.” He points to a particular plant that’s in a seasonal variety only in the second case while he pulls the original main case over to him with his tail. He can’t risk going any closer to her than he already is for the moment. Even doing it that way, he knows it's only shame that she knows his weakness that’s keeping his tail from reaching out to her.

Mech can’t dwell on what he reveals and the only good consequence is that he’s embarrassed enough, and afraid enough of how this might affect their relationship going forward, that it's actually helping to quell the hormones in his blood. Still, he knows he can’t lose focus and so he throws himself into creating the most promising looking medication. It’s untested, but it should compensate for the lack of an actual graviel mate to wait through the reaction with. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to get him into the secure room Gwen’s prepared. Maybe by the time this chemical snap has blown over, Gwen will have not forgotten, but be willing to pretend he never said anything.

He crosses from one wall to the other on his side, feeding the machine there the compounds he’s prepared. “Can you add the amount on the screen?” he asks, voice gruff and awkward. “Then close the lid, that’s the last ingredient.”

“Sure,” Gwen says. He hates and is grateful for how normal she sounds, like he hasn’t just disrupted the perfectly calibrated balance their friendship had managed to reach.

He doesn’t dare look up, waits for the sound of the lid closing and of her footsteps as she crosses back to her side. Even that short trip closer resulted in some of her scent blown his way and she smells like temptation distilled down to its truest form.

He sets the machine running and carefully breathes shallowly until the vents have once more blown away her enticing scent.

“Mech, really, why me?” Gwen asks, interrupting the quiet. She sounds cautious but unwilling to leave well enough alone. He almost can’t handle that question. “Why would—”

“Of course, it’s you!” the words burst from him without thought, without permission. He’s already bared more of himself than he’d prefer, but this question is the worst because how can she even ask it. “Who else could it be? There’s no one—” He shakes his head and glares at her, unable to help himself. “There’s only you. Always you.”

Her eyes are wide as she looks at him, genuine shock evident. “Mech…”

[Part 4 - NSFW]

#my writing #story: snapped #snapped #alien #sci-fi #science fiction #alien romance #osha compliant #3rd pov #mech #gwen #heat #please dont @ me about the science #its all made up and its for an alien anyway so prove me wrong lol #next part will not be osha compliant #no idea why this took so long to write but it's here now

90 notes · View notes

moonshine-nightlight · 9 months

Text

Snapped - Part 4

Science fiction, alien romance, male alien x female human, (4 / 4)

Story Status: COMPLETE

AO3: Snapped Chapter 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] Part 4 - NSFW

“Who else could it be? There’s no one—” He shakes his head and glares at her, unable to help himself. “There’s only you. Always you.”

Her eyes are wide as she looks at him, genuine shock evident. “Mech…”

The silence that echoes through the room is deafening, even the vents seem subdued in the wake of Mech’s most recent confession.

It’s only broken when the synthesizer machine beeps, signaling that the compound has been mixed and is ready for use. Mech darts over to it with speed. It’s not going to do enough, he already knows that based on the limited ingredients he has on hand, but it should stabilize the reaction and ideally shorten the duration.

He refuses to think about anything but the chemistry as he dully loads the dose into a syringe. Shame and fear has crystallized into a shield against the lust raging through his blood that’s proving surprisingly effective. How could he have told her how much he—the sharp prick of the needle as it enters his skin cuts into his train of thought and he lets it. He immediately sets the machine to rigging up another dose. He won’t be able to take it for twelve hours, but hopefully G—hopefully, it can be brought to him wherever he’s isolated.

The diagnostic machine buzzes next and he dutifully walks back over to where it’s been compiling a list of least dangerous medical concoctions to simply knock him out cold. Given how today has gone, he shouldn’t be surprised that nothing has a particularly high chance of either success or safety. As much as he hates this situation, he’s not quite at the level of self-destructive to truly consider taking most of these. Even if he wishes for nothing more than to stop thinking since the ground hasn’t managed to swallow him up.

Movement out of the corner of his eyes causes him to turn sharply. Gwen’s been silent since she said his name in that quietly devastated tone in reaction to his confession. Now he sees she’s taken a step closer for some gods forsaken reason out of her self imposed corner.

“Stay back,” he hisses even as she walks even closer. And gods, is this dose even doing anything? He swears her scent is heavier, more enticing—richer and more appealing in every way. It reaches him with no trouble despite the vents still pulling air out and away from him and her downwind. She looks even more beautiful, her eyes dark and her blue skirt fluttering around her enticingly. “I told you.”

“Hush,” she chides gently. She walks even closer, with a look in her eyes he can’t fathom. Her hair dances in the breeze too, looking thick and touchable, her figure inviting him to see how soft her skin likely is, to imagine it yielding to–

Frantically, he reaches for outrage or worry or anything other than arousal in reaction to her approach. Where is her sense of self-preservation? He backs up, spines hitting the door behind him. “Do you want to leave?” he asks, grasping at straws. Why wouldn’t she say so? They could find some way to shift around the room while maintaining proper distance. He’s told her what state of his mind is. She can’t expect him to understand what she wants from him when his instincts have such a strong hand on the controls of his imagination. He doesn’t understand what’s happening.

“Do you want me?” she asks, her eyes intent as she takes another step closer. “Without all this,” she gestures with her delicate hand in a circle as if to encompass the room or his heightened state, “do you want to be with me?”

There’s no point beating around the bush anymore, is there? Even if he thought he’d been plenty clear before, he supposes she wants to hear it outright. “Yes,” Mech admits, hanging his head because now she knows it's his fault his instincts picked her. If he hadn’t already thought of her like this, when she saw him only as a friend, then maybe this, this break wouldn’t have happened. “For…” He shakes his head, unable to remember when his feelings became something other than platonic. “I don’t know why today pushed me over the edge, but I promise I can get back under control.” He can’t lose her, not from something so abrupt and uncontrollable. “I can,” he insists desperately.

Her face softens and she must feel some sympathy for him. Gwen’s one of the most compassionate people he’s ever met, surely she can forgive him for this. “Oh, Mech, you silly alien.” She steps even closer and before he can react, her hand lands on his cheek. It feels electric, each point of contact. His worry and frustration and shame all war with his hormones with her so close. His claws dig back into the wall, venom pools in his mouth, every nerve and muscle in his body straining for her held in check only by sheer force of will. “I don’t want you to.”

“W-” Her lips on his silence whatever protest he was going to attempt to utter. His whole brain skitters to a halt, unable to do anything except stay perfectly still and process what’s happening with every sense. Her lips are warm and soft, pressed with perfect pressure against his half-open mouth. Was he saying something? Her wonderful, delicious scent envelops him completely until there isn’t anything except Gwen. Her hand on his cheek is the comfort of home and hearth. The little stroke of her thumb on his cheek is everything he’s ever wanted.

This perfect moment is all his raging hormones need to take over. Mech has Gwen pushed up against the door within a second. He splays one hand around her hip, holding tight as his other hand laces with her free hand to pin it to the wall. He sucks her lower lip into his mouth as he presses every inch of his body he can manage to keep her there. The ache of his cock finally has some friction to satiate it. His whole body sings with relief, the itch and pull and desperation blissfully satisfied with the contact with his mate. Or rather, his soon to be mate.

With that thought in mind, he skillfully takes control of the kiss, needing to show her exactly why she should choose him. Why he deserves her regard. He shall prove his worth as a kisser and therefore a lover so she’ll have no doubt in her mind that he should be hers. He can’t resist a more substantial taste of her regardless. Mech slides his tongue carefully and deliberately between her lips to slide against her own. He loses himself in the kiss, in giving and taking in as equal measure as well as he can handle when confronted with the reality of her hot, inviting mouth.

Mech distantly remembers humans' more limited lung capacity and pulls back to trail kisses down her neck, questing for where it meets her shoulder. His jaw opens, fangs dripping and scraping along her heaving body. Gwen whines and pants as he touches her and he never wants to be anywhere else doing anything else ever again. He can only think as far into the future as to picture her with his marks on her and his blood boils with desire.

“Mech…” It’s his own naked wonder at hearing Gwen moan his name that breaks through the haze of lust and hormones and instinct to remind him of exactly what situation they’re in. How nothing he’s ever done with his life would have granted him such bliss.

He wrenches his mouth from hers with all the self-control he likes to pretend he has. Panting, breathing in lungfuls of her scent with her still pressed tight to him nearly undoes that, but he holds fast. He can’t get himself to break from her further, but he just needs her to tell him, needs her to reset the boundaries before he goes too far, before he ruins her and himself in the process.

A puff of fresh air from the vent above allows him to latch back on to his more rational objections. “I don’t need your pity,” he practically spits, doing his best to find something that can force him to back off and salvage their relationship before he’s doomed it with his rash actions and clouded judgment. Luckily, it is an almost sobering thought—the idea of being with Gwen only to have her reveal she put up with his advances solely in an attempt to help him. That would destroy him.

Instead of helping him, Gwen’s eyes flash with incandescent, fierce anger. She shifts in his grip, not letting go or trying to escape his grasp as might be sensible, but to maneuver him where she wants him. She hitches herself up and then grinds down against his thigh now between her legs. She practically growls in relief as the thin skirt she wears and even the thicker fabric of his trousers do nothing to disguise the heat and wetness he feels against him.

“Gwen,” he gasps in true shock even as his body quickly angles his thigh to an even more advantageous position. His instincts are hyper-focused, straining to satisfy his mate in any way she wants him to.

“Does that feel like pity?” she demands, groaning as he moves and tightening her grip on him. “I want you,” she says plainly and everything in him comes to a halt for the second time in a minute. His eyes faintly glowing red ones frantically meet her own. They’re dilated, black swallowing up brown, but her sincerity, the raw honesty in them is crystal clear. “I want you bad. Have done for a while now.”

“Fuck, Gwen,” is all he can manage to almost whine as his mind frantically tries to make sense of the impossible.

She smirks in response, head ducking close to manage a nip at his lower lip and a lick to one of his fangs. Her eyelids flutter at the taste of his venom as she breathes, “Yes, exactly. I need you.”

He can’t help but give her what she asks, what she needs. Why in the universe that's an ornery, suspicious, antisocial bastard like him, he doesn’t know. But he’s lost the will to keep fighting her. He chases after her mouth, his chest an iron wall against her own slighter, softer one. She doesn’t seem to mind being caged in by his hand, still pinned as his thigh has her hips. She just grinds closer, releasing hitching little breaths and moans as his venom mixes with her saliva.

His silvery venom is primarily deadly only on his planet, but plenty of other species have reactions to it. Some it numbs, some it hurts, and others it heals. Humanity seems most varied in their reaction, but his understanding is that it tends to fizzle, to buzz. After all, theirs is a race that poisons itself recreationally, sought out toxic plants for the sting to add to their diet, and regularly ingests powerful drugs most races take in only the smallest of doses. However Gwen’s personal chemistry might feel about it, at least it's nothing terrible enough to break their kiss.

In fact, their kiss only breaks when she runs out of air and tips her head back to breathe. He lets go of her pinned hand, an absent minded extra push before he does to tell her to leave it there, and skims his hand down her flank, strokes across the swell of her stomach. She’s so plush and warm under his fingerpads especially through the cutouts of her dress. His claws snag in the material that does cover her. He can’t retract them. He resists the urge to cut through the fabric still keeping the rest of her lovely skin from him, resists the urge to dig his claws in enough to leave a lasting mark, showing any who might look upon her that she had allowed him the luxurious indulgence of touching her.

It reminds him he still might lose sight of his strength, of everything until it was too late. And Gwen doesn’t deserve this, rutting against the medbay wall while he’s out of his mind. She deserves to be courted and treated and to be laid down reverently in a bed of silk. He should be able to touch her without worrying his darker impulses will overtake him and hurt her. “Not in a sane state of mind to do this right,” he growls out in frustration. His head nuzzles into the crook of her shoulder as even in his irritation he can’t resist the allure of the comfort Gwen offers his soul so effortlessly.

“It's you and me,” Gwen replies, her voice sure, “‘course this is right.” She pulls his face out from where he’s hiding so she can meet his gaze. “You think I don’t know what I’m asking for?” her voice is cajoling and challenging, “I dreamed of you, pressed against me just, like, this.” She punctuates each word with a roll of her hips.

He tries to claw back a hold on his senses. He knows he should, knows no matter her words, Gwen doesn’t know. But she’s intent on wrecking him. “Need you to fuck me now, Mech.”

He snaps his teeth together, baring his fangs as his whole body tenses with the urge to do just that. “Gwen,” his voice is strangled. “For graviels, you don’t know what mating—”

“But I do,” she insists.

“No,” he shakes his head. “You don’t.” He tries desperately to find the words to explain, but there’s only Gwen. His hands clench tighter in the fabric of her dress and he dares not look down for the tears that have to have accompanied the ripping sound. The fabric is no longer covering her well, but hopefully it’s still enough to keep his claws and venom away from her skin. His eyes track a bead of sweat that drips down her neck. He longs to stop it with his tongue. He longs to sink his teeth into where it pools on the curve of her shoulder.

“Yeah, I do.” Gwen finally sounds serious. “I looked it up.” His eyes snap to her own. She raises an eyebrow. “You think I’ve wanted you this long and not investigated what it would be like?” No, he hadn’t. He’d never even thought she might feel the same, might want this too. Had she really done so? He can almost picture her in her bunk, hair twirled around one finger as she scrolls through articles and stories about the rare couplings of human and graviel. He knows they’re out there because he checked too. “How compatible we might be? I want you and all you come with, no matter the scars. Want you so damn much.”

“Gwen.” There’s awe in his voice he can’t control. Even when humans aren’t put off by the venom and how it feels, many are at how it factors into graviel mating. How it seals over the scratches and bites and marks his kind like to leave on their mates, not too deep, but guaranteed to leave permanent marks.

Her only reply is to grind against the thigh still between her legs. His tail winds itself up her leg to stroke her upper thigh before adjusting her to an even more advantageous position. There is a fearsome look on her face, as if she feels like she’s made more than enough allowances for his anxieties and fears. Like she’s done waiting. “Gonna fuck me, Mech?” Her smirk is wicked, the look in her eyes even more so. Her hair is spread in a messy halo around her head, her skin starting to sparkle with sweat, her body never ceasing its movement, its gentle undulation against his own. He’s never seen her eyes look so dark or so appealing. She looks edible. She arches with the motion of her grind and one of her hands reaches blindly behind her, finds the doorpad. “Or do I need to find someone else to?”

Something inside him roars at her direct challenge. Maybe it was more than an internal roar because she shudders in response. There’s triumph in her eyes at his reaction. If she’s aware enough to provoke him… The last piece clicks into place and he finally takes her at her word, That she wants him. He’s got no resistance left.

All he has is a need to make her his in any way he can. In every way he can.

“Mine,” he growls as he takes her mouth in a ferocious kiss, hands already ripping her dress to shreds and stripping her of it. He barely notices her own hands scrambling at his shirt except that the feeling of her hand splayed over his stomach is nearly as euphoric as his hand closing around her breast.

“Wanna mark you,” Mech warns. The urge to properly mark his mate as taken, as his is pure instinct. To leave physical evidence of everything boiling over inside him on her skin is overwhelming.

Gwen’s rucked his shirt up high enough that she can reach up, set her nails to his shoulder blades, and rake her nails down his back. The sharp pressure, the surprising sting of her nails, and lingering feeling of her touch send if possible even more blood rushing to his throbbing cock. He groans, arching into her claim. “Yes. Long as I can mark you too.”

“Perfect,” he says reverently into the skin of her neck where he presses a kiss and sucks a mark. “How are you so—”

Her moan of approval as he begins to knead to soft flesh of her breast under his hand is muffled by his lips back where they belong on hers. He grinds his palm down on her nipple and before long his eyes are fixed on where the claws of that hand just barely scrape against her skin. It becomes pink and sensitive as she squirms under his attention.

His claw finally breaks the skin right over where her heart pounds furiously. A short red scratch that he traces back over, venom running into it. She trembles in his arms with a whine as the cut seals shut, the line a subtle white against her skin. A glance in her eyes, fogged over in pleasure, is all the reassurance he needs. He latches onto her other breast with his mouth, allowing his venom to encase her nipple as he sucks. He twists his grip, claws scraping and healing as he does so around her other breat. Gwen practically screams her pleasure to the ceiling, to the whole damn ship if he’s lucky.

Mech wants everyone to know Gwen is getting the pleasure she deserves nearly as much as he wants them to know he’s the one giving it to her. He brings his fangs down to bear, gazing and abrading her soft soft skin. Gwen whimpers. He’d be concerned if the sound wasn’t also accompanied by the wet slick against his thigh increasing.

Her hands scrabble at his back and her head thunks against the door as she arches, pressing her chest into him with another gasp of his name.

The sound galvanizes him. Somehow finally giving into his desires has helped the fog in his brain caused by this hormonal snap clear. The door isn’t going to let him ravish her the way he craves. He doesn’t want to be distracted by keeping her held up against it when there are far better things he could be focusing on.

He reluctantly lets go of her breast to grip at her hips again with both hands. She whines when he lets go of her tender nipple with his mouth to trail up to her shoulder. Her whole body tenses when the threat of his fangs are brought to bare, like she’s holding her breath. Still she doesn’t do anything more than whimper when he removes his damp thigh from between her legs, hanging pliantly in his firm hold.

Gwen’s fingers wind their way into his hair, firm but not tugging in protest—yet. Before she can ask about the sudden stop to the way she’d been grinding herself to some sort of peek, he pulls her off the wall with a grunt. Lifting his head to remind himself of what exactly he’s working with in the medbay, he strides over to the bed in the center of the room where Gwen had been sitting only twenty minutes ago, distracting him while he tried in vain to solve this problem any other way than through.

He’ll bring her to his rooms once they’ve mated here, maybe more than once depending on their stamina and his hunger. This’ll do fine for now. She looks gorgeous, Mech thinks as he lays her out. He pulls the remaining scraps of her dress off. His eyes trace the goosebumps that spring up after he backs off with fascination as he methodically begins to strip himself. Gwen seems more than understanding and is eagerly removing the last of her clothing—her panties—with a quickness that betrays her own need. The scent that flows out of her is nearly enough to bring him to his knees. But there’ll be time for that later.

Gwen props herself up on her elbows to watch him with half-lidded, ravenous eyes. His eyes keep straying to her chest, already bearing the red and white marks from his fangs and his claws. He’s never been more proud of anything in his life than that she let him mark her as such. He’s never giving her up.

“I don’t share,” Mech says bluntly as he places a hand next to her hip. He isn’t arguing or retreating or trying to back out anymore. This is at worst a warning, at most a promise. “This can’t be a one-time thing. I won’t change my mind, not about you. I’ll keep you all to myself.”

“Yes,” Gwen agrees easily. She lays back down while reaching for him, the invitation in the lines of her body obvious. Her fingers wrap around his forearm, the black spines that line it, and there’s no give to her hold. “Mine.”

He vaults onto the bed, over her, without thought and she welcomes him. Her hands map every inch of his skin she can reach, no fear at the way his black spines lining back and arms are standing at attention. Gwen’s touch starts off light as he arranges himself over her, but once he brings their lips together for another mind-melting kiss, she increases the pressure. Mech can feel each point of contact, each finger tip, as she digs them in and drags her nails connecting th black splotches that litter his red skin.

Mech pictures his skin turning from red to pink, lightning from the force she’s exerting to try to mark him and he grows harder if at all possible. He ruts against her upper thigh with greater intent, getting impatient. All the relief from this much contact finally not enough to satiate his hunger for his mate. His Gwen.

She must notice because she hums with smug satisfaction into the kiss and those same fingers start to migrate from his back to rest low on his hips. “Gwen,” he groans, pulling back from her lips just far enough to pant her name against her lips.

Her fingers brush his cock in a deliberate tease, one he’s past having patience for. His hips chase those fingers for a more purposeful grip. Luckily, she seems unwilling to play this game any longer either. Her fingers wrap around him. “Yeah?” her voice is rough with desire and every nerve in his body sings at the sound, at her touch. She strokes down, from root to tip, seemingly not put off by the black ridges and bumps his red cock has that he knows humans don’t. She must really have done her—Mech’s thoughts scatter when she twists her fingers, lubricated by pre-cum the same silver as his venom which leaks from his erection. She grinds the palm of her hand against the sensitive head and he arches his back with a moan that feels like it's pulled straight from the depths of him.

“Fuck, Mech,” Gwen pants, eyes darting from his face to his cock and everywhere in between, clearly unable to decide where to look while Mech just tries to keep his eyes open so he doesn’t miss a second of his wildest dreams coming true right underneath him. “You’re gonna feel so good inside me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Mech hisses even as he presses down on her shoulder, moving up to position himself for just that. “Need to be inside you now.”

“Yeah,” Gwen agrees, lining him up with perfect precision. “Now, now, fuck, n—”

Her words are cut off when she moans as he sinks into her welcoming wet heat. She gasps as he pulls her legs open further with his tail, lifting her ass off the bed to angle his thrust home best. He can’t think about anything except how good she feels, how hot and snug and perfect she is. He thinks he babbles some of that aloud as he pushes in. “So wet, so soft. Fuck, Gwen.”

“Ye-es,” she replies back, eyes closed to better savor the feeling of him filling her in one long inexorable movement. She hooks her leg around his for better stability and he takes advantage immediately. Pushing that much further in, massaging her ass with the hand he has on it, letting his claws dig in to her yielding flesh. She groans at the pinpricks of sensation from his claws and venom, from him finally hilting deep within her.

There’s a split second where there’s nothing but the sound of their labored breathing and the whoosh of the vents. The calm before the storm. Everything outside of them ceases to exist as every hormone is his body cries out in triumph. Mech’s eyes meet hers and he ignites once more. He pulls out halfway, but he can’t seem to exist outside of her anymore and quickly thrusts back in, adding a grind to the end that makes Gwen moan deeply. Her hands land on his shoulders as she pushes against him, matching his movements with a synchronicity he never should have doubted she was capable of.

Her palms push on his own chest for leverage and he gasps at how it feels against his nipples. Gwen picks up on his reaction immediately, her focus zeroing in on her new target. Mech bows his head, overwhelmed by all the sensation his touch-starved body isn’t used to. That of course brings his mouth within range of her delectable neck, all that lovely skin and sweat and scent, all uniquely Gwen. He laves his tongue along her collarbone, fangs grazing and mouth sucking in a random, hazy, instinctual pattern that seems to drive her wild if the way she clenches around him is anything to go by.

“So close, so close, so close,” Gwen chants, her hands moving to his spines, holding on tight to ride out how roughly he’s fucking her with his pistoning cock. The ache of her grip is sweet enough his next thrust has an extra swivel of his hips behind it. “Mech! Mech, please. Please.”

He knows exactly what she’s begging for and he’d rather die than let her go unsatisfied. His tail finds and grinds against her clit with unerring accuracy despite the desperate motion of their coupling. Her reaction nearly throws him over the edge, the throbbing of her walls around his cock exquisite in their increased intensity. Mech preserves through the sensation, determined to make Gwen come before he does.

Luckily, it only takes a few more strokes and making a calculated tug on her clit for her to call out, “Yes! Me-ch!” The final strands of his self-control snap and he comes on the next thrust, his cock and fangs buried deep in his claimed mate. The ensuing euphoria blanks his mind from anything other than pleasure and he slumps against Gwen, satisfaction flowing through his veins.

Mech eventually comes to and finds himself carefully lapping at the bite mark he made on her shoulder, his venom already having closed the wounds, but leaving them sensitive if Gwen’s hums and twitches of pleasure are any indication. Her hands are running absently up and down his arms and limp spines, sending ripples of residual pleasure through him.

He’s never felt this content before, wrapped around this wonderful woman, still buried in her. He can still feel the unusual lust swimming through his body, but it's more than manageable at the moment. All he wants to do is enjoy this culmination of everything he never thought he would get to have.

Of course, that gratification and laziness only lasts so long. Gwen starts to stir more coherently beneath him and that insatiable desire begins to make itself known once more.

“Are you hard again?” Gwen’s voice breaks the stillness, bewildered and still sounding a little orgasm-drunk.

“Yes,” he acknowledges, pressing a sheepish kiss to her neck.

She shifts, muscles clenching and relaxing. Mech fights the urge to whimper as she asks, more curiously than anything, “Is that a graviel thing or a mating frenzy thing?”

“I can’t remember,” he admits as a few seconds contemplation where all he can think of is how good she feels and what other marks he wants to leave on her. “Might just be a sex-with-you thing.”

“Hm, good answer.” Gwen rolls her hips, mouth nipping at his neck with a promise that sends anticipatory shivers down his spines as they stand at attention once more. “You’ve got five seconds to roll us over so I don’t knock us to the floor. I wanna be on top this time.”

“Whatever you want, my mate.”

#my writing #story: snapped #snapped #alien #sc-fi #science fiction #alien romance #NOT osha compliant #3rd pov #male alien #heat #lol this is the longest chapter #mech just refusing to believe gwen's onboard stretched it out #thought i'd get more confident the more of this type of thing that i wrote #but still more worried about it than usual lol #oh well #this has been in my head for so long #glad its finally written and i lik it :)#let me know what you think!

81 notes · View notes