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Out of this World - Part 2 [Sexy Alien Space Babe TG]
🕑 Added 2024-09-12 21:00:03 +0000 UTCCommissioned Anonymously
Part 1: Change
Chapter 2
The shipping dock was packed with people coming and going; Mal's escort was somewhere in the crowd, doing their best to blend in and make it look like he wasn't being tailed. He stood on the docking platform, clutching the documents with his new name and identity stamped on them and gazed up at the cargo vessel that was to be his new home. It was a standard cargo freighter with a boxy design that was never designed to exist in gravity, functional yet worn from years of service. Its hull was a patchwork of repairs and upgrades, with mismatched plates and a painted-on label that simply read HAVEN.
As Mal approached the boarding ramp, though it wasn't the largest ship he'd seen, the cargo holds were expansive, capable of carrying a significant amount of goods across the galaxy. The loading bay doors were currently open and inside dock workers and crew alike were milling about trying to get everything magnetised and attached properly for when they took off.
In the gantry overlooking the cargo bay stood a human woman with piercing green eyes Mal could make out even from a distance. She stood tall and imposing. Her short-cropped brown hair framed a sharp face that would have been considered handsome were it not for the scar that ran from her left eyebrow to her cheek.
"Mal'thas Srizz?" she asked, her voice steady and clear.
"Yes," Mal replied, trying to keep his nerves in check.
"Welcome aboard, Haven," She called, swinging herself down the staircase before walking the last few steps and extending a hand. "Captain Zara Hart, your new boss."
"Thank you, Captain," Mal smiled before an awkward silence forced him to continue. "She's an impressive ship."
Zara's lips twitched into a slight smile.
"Know a lot about ships?"
"Uh, not really." Mal admitted.
"Then how do you know she's impressive?"
"Uh..."
"She's just teasing, lass. Captain, don't give the poor woman an aneurysm on her first day!" Called a gruff voice from the gantry, "I'd prefer not to have her in my med bay before we've even left!"
The voice came from A Vortan standing not far from where Zara had been minutes ago. The Aquatic race could almost be mistaken for human-sized axolotls, judging by the length of the fronds on either side of this one's face; he was at least a hundred years old, nearing middle age for a Vortan.
"Dr. Vrylix." Zara nodded. "If his little rant there didn't give it away, he's our medical officer. You can meet the rest of the crew at the mess tonight. Come on. I'll show you where you're bunking."
They made their way through the ship, but the halls were surprisingly narrow, considering how bulky the outside looked. Mal bumped his newly widened hips on the corners with a curse. He still wasn’t used to the not-so-subtle sway his gait had now. Zara raised an eyebrow as they walked and eventually asked.
“So why hauling cargo?”
“Uh…a jobs a job?” He tried.
“No, I mean…” Zara looked flustered for a moment. “It’s not often Sedun leave their home planet; when they do, it's usually for some special position or something. Why come all the way here just to work on a cargo hauler?”
At that moment, Mal realised he probably should have spent a few minutes thinking up a backstory. Zara was looking at him expectantly, and the more seconds ticked by, the more apparent the awkwardness of the hallway became. Suddenly, Zara seemed to sway slightly.
“Wow, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I knew Sedun could project their emotions, but I didn’t realise they were that strong.”
“S-sorry. Most of the time, I can keep it under control.” Mal said it was the truth, at least he thought so. He’d only been a Sedun for a few days. His bag had several chips with books for his data pad with more information on his new physiology, but he hadn’t made much of a dent yet.
“Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Zara said kindly. “I should have known it was a touchy subject. Why else would you be here.”
Mal’s tendrils flicked back and forth like the tail of an irritated cat, so much for a smooth impression. He was sure to be the topic of gossip among the captain and her crew now. They arrived at a small door, and Zara swiped a card to unlock it before handing it over.
“This will be your room.”
It was small and plain, with just a bed, desk and trunk to store his things. Honestly, after years in a tiny apartment sandwiched between a much bigger family unit and a storage cupboard, Mal didn't think it was all that bad.
“Mess is in an hour when the loading is finished. Come meet us in the kitchen to eat. Our chef Zenk is making something special for your arrival.”
“Sounds nice.”
“I’ll let you-”
“Damn! Is that the Sedun!?”
Zara closed her eyes and breathed heavily out her nose in irritation. She said nothing, though, as a blur of brown and blue whizzed around the corner. Mal found himself face to face with a humanoid-looking man, with feathers instead of hair and bright yellow, talon-like nails, a Plumarian.
“Woah, amazing! Look at you. I have always wanted to meet a Sedun. I know a few live on these bigger stations but I never thought I could actually afford to meet one. Not that I am paying to see you, of course. It’s just that most of you work in those fancy whore houses. Oh shit, that was probably a rude thing to say, wasn't it? Anyway, I’m Kris, the mechanic. Nice to meet you!”
Mal blinked rapidly, trying to keep up with the rapid-fire words; Kis spoke so fast that by the time he’d registered what was being said, he was two sentences away.
“Kris, maybe let Mal’thas settle in a little bit before you talk her to death?” Zara said in an irritated tone, though Mal couldn’t help but notice the fond smile threatening to break across her face. “And maybe don’t immediately refer to stereotypes?”
“Oh shit, yeah, sorry, sorry sooooorry!” Kris chirped, “All you other races move so slowly. It’s a nightmare. No wonder you like me so much. I work much faster than anybody else. Speaking of which, I think I need to finish rebolting the cargo doors, or they won't close. But I just had to come meet you!”
Mal took in Kris’ bright eyes, framed with lashes of tiny feathers and his innocent face; the gangs would have chewed this guy up and spit him back out. And now he would probably be a match for Mal in the ring; how depressing.
“I didn’t think new crew members would be such a big deal.” Mal’s cheeks heated up, and he was horrified to see the grey markings that covered his entire body start to feel the same and turn a redder shade of purple. Great, his whole body blushed now.
“You’re making her uncomfortable.” Zara snapped, punching Kris on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get going. You settle in Mal’thas, and we will see you at dinner.”
Mal gave them a polite, slightly awkward nod and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. To his surprise, though, his ears twitched, and he realised he could still hear Zara and Kris on the other side of the door.
“Oh my God, Zara, did you see her? Four tits, it’s a dream.”
“Of course I did! But you can’t treat her differently because she’s Sedun!”
“But I heard Sedun are all about free love and stuff. Apparently, they don't even wear clothes on their home planet half the time! Do you think she’d let me touch them?”
“Do you know what I know about Sedun?”
“What?”
“That they have excellent hearing.”
“...Oh shit, do you think-?”
“Almost certainly.”
“...fuck.”
~
The mess hall wasn't hard to find, but Mal arrived a few minutes late anyway, hoping that people would be more focused on their meal than him. It turned out that it was the exact opposite; when he walked through the door, all eyes turned to him. The cargo ship had a small crew. Besides Zara, Dr Vylix and Kris, only two others were in the room. A large, muscular humanoid covered in fur with a craggy, pox-marked face who wore an apron and took up an entire side of the table by himself; Zenk, he presumed. The other was another human, male, with curly brown hair and a pair of sunglasses dangling from his shirt despite the fact they would never be necessary on a spaceship.
“The lady of the hour!” Kris grinned. He radiated nervousness, literally. Mal could feel the emotion slipping up his tendrils, and they shivered.
“Do you go by “lady”? If your species doesn't have a gender?” The human man asked, and Zara elbowed him.
“Sorry,” she sighed. “My crew and I aren’t making the best first impression, are we?”
Mal wasn't even sure if he should be offended; most of the things they were saying were things he would have said himself, even a few weeks ago. Having them directed at him felt…weird. His fingers curled into fists out of habit; his usual way of dealing with trash talk wasn't going to work here, so he sat down at the table and did his best to keep his flicking tendrils under control.
“It’s fine.” He said, grateful for his new, lilting Sedun voice. Somehow, everything he said sounded soft and calm, even if he was biting back frustration inside.
“So, Mal’thas, I’m Raymond.” The human man held out his hand, and Mal took it, instantly sensing his genuine curiosity.
“You can just call me Mal.” He replied. “Mal’thas is…a mouthful.”
It was also not really his name, but it was the closest he could get in the Sedun dialect.
“Well, Mal, I am the pilot around here. It's nice to have somebody new joining. Now we won't have to draw straws to see who does the admin every time we load up.”
“That’s my job?” Mal said stupidly, gaining him a couple of confused looks. “I mean, of course, that’s my job. I knew that.”
“Lass is hungry, that’s all.” Vrylix trilled, “Zenk, what’s on the menu?”
The hulking chef said nothing, simply reaching behind him and producing several bowls of what looked like watery rice with blue eyes floating on top and some sort of spice drizzling on top. Zenk gave a satisfied huff while the rest of them all poked at the food curiously. Something about the eggs looked familiar and then Mal realised;
“These are from the Sedun homeworld.” He’d seen pictures in his information books.
“Oh, Zenk must have wanted you to feel at home. Do you know the name of the dish?” Zara asked.
“Uh…no.” His markings blushed. “It slipped my mind.”
Zenk huffed but again said nothing; Mal was beginning to think he couldn’t talk at all. He dipped his fork into the food and lifted it to his delicate lips; it tasted a bit like eggs and rice but with a strange, sweet undertone. It wasn’t bad…but it wasn’t good either. Everybody was watching, obviously waiting to see his reaction, and Mal resisted the urge to tell them all to fuck off. Instead, he forced himself to smile.
“Thank you, it’s lovely. But, in the future, I would be happy with whatever you normally cook.” Mal prayed that it was human food, but he finished his bowl while fantasising about the burger joint near his old house.
~
Mal studied himself in the polished metal that stood in for a proper mirror in his tiny bathroom. The tendrils that grew from his head in place of hair seemed to float around his head slightly, little blue lights glowing softly at the sides as he tried to focus on moving them. According to his book, most adult Sedun could use their tendrils like extra limbs, albeit weak ones. Apparently, their primary purpose was collecting pheromones in the air, which explained his empathic abilities. Unfortunately, they also produced pheromones when he wasn't careful, essentially announcing to everybody in the vicinity how he was feeling.
He studied the tendrils, watching the little lights inside blink and fade slowly. He wished there was some way to make them turn off. Sleeping was a nightmare when your head was constantly glowing, but even despite that, he had to admit, they were striking. It was no wonder that between them, the extra breasts and the intricate markings that Sedun were so sought after. Mal had gone from having one of the most forgettable bodies ever to being truly striking, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it.
He stripped out of the work uniform he’d been provided and set about actually getting familiar with his new form. The first few days after the change, he’d been too intimidated to pay close attention, jumping in and out of showers as quickly as possible to avoid getting caught up looking at himself. Now, he took his time, letting his long, nimble fingers brush over his totally smooth skin. There was no hair there whatsoever. Like most humans, Mal had never noticed the tiny hairs covering him. Now they were gone, he felt oddly naked. Well, more naked. The skin felt so sensitive without them, and he felt a shiver move up his spine and down into the tendrils that now brushed the small of his back.
Experimentally, he focused. Letting the tendrils slowly stroke across his skin, teasing across the curve of his ass and around his sides until a few of them began to stroke at his own breasts. With a soft moan, he reached up to hold two of them, tweaking the nipples between his fingers while his tendrils fondled the other two.
Mal watched in the polished metal as his markings darkened in a full-body blush as he started to get wet. His new, alien pussy worked much the same way as a human woman’s, and it was beginning to glisten with wetness. His tendrils snaked down, growing longer somehow until one brushed the front of his mound, and Mal saw stars. It was such a tease. The tendril couldn’t stretch any further, meaning he couldn’t push inside or part his folds without removing one of his hands from his breasts. But doing that would be torture because, Oh God, did those hands feel so good on his nipples.
Mal felt his body starting to stiffen as the pleasure grew. His lips parted, and a soft, almost musical moan escaped as he finally came. The lights in his hair flared, and his whole body shuddered as slice juices ran down his leg.
“Oh fuck…” He whispered. “That was…that was so intense, ahhhh…”
The pleasure was still there, the afterglow pulsing through his body pleasantly as he laid down to sleep naked between the sheets. His skin, still sensitive from the teasing, felt so lovely against the sheets.
“At least there is that as a positive.” He muttered to himself. If just touching himself felt that good, he could definitely see why Sedun’s were so promiscuous. If his own hands and tendrils could do that, how would it feel to have somebody else touching him? The idea made his tendrils curl, and despite the satisfaction he felt it took a long time before Mal finally fell asleep.
~
The next morning was his first official day on the job, he got up, counted the inventory and organised all the paperwork for when they arrived at the various stations to deliver, as well as sent correspondence to the various companies they were expected to pick up more cargo from at each location. It wasn't hard work, all things considered, but Mal could see why Zara wanted somebody to handle it all; it was a lot of busy work. Speaking of Zara, she seemed slightly off at breakfast. The whole crew did, actually. They kept their faces down and their talking minimal. Mal twitched his tendrils curiously, picking up on feelings of shame and awkwardness as well as…something else. They were all making meaningful eye contact with the captain, and several times she opened her mouth to say something only to close it and stay silent.
Lunch was the same, though thankfully, shorter. Mal ate as quickly as he could, eager to escape the stifling tension and got back up to head back to his terminal on the bridge. He was almost at the end of the corridor when he heard it; voices coming from the mess hall. They had all been waiting until he was out of earshot, but it seemed even Zara had underestimated the sharpness of Sedun hearing.
“You have to say something.” Raymond hissed.
“She didn’t do anything wrong! We’d all be lying if we said we’d never masturbated before in the privacy of our own quarters!” Zara replied.
“Yeah, but we don't project all our emotions and make everybody else on the ship unbearably horny when we do it!”
Mal wanted to die; everybody had felt him getting off last night? His whole body burned with humiliation; he hadn't even noticed he was projecting. He remembered the intensity of his orgasm and how his tendrils had glowed brightly; had they released a wave of pheromones strong enough that people knew?
“She probably didn't realise the air filtration system moves through all the rooms.” Zara continued, “I didn't think to tell her.”
“Who would? I’m the engineer, and I don’t even think I'll mention how air filtration works,” Kris replied. “Still, I don't think you should say anything, I thought it was hot as hell. I’ve never cum so-”
“I swear to God, Kris, finish that sentence at your own peril.” Zara hissed.
“Well, sorry, most women would be pretty keen to hear about how-”
“I am about as straight as a curly straw and don't give a damn about what you’re packing. Also, I’m your superior officer.”
“...I feel like that bit should have been more pertinent.” Raymond deadpanned, and there was a smacking sound followed by an indignant squawk from the man.
Mal’s embarrassment was so intense that his markings practically turned black, but he also felt his temper rising. He was sick of being whispered about; was this what life would be like from now on? Constant gossip? He missed life in Murdeek’s gang; at least there, when people talked shit, they got their noses broken. At least he knew how to exist there, as rough as illegal as that life had been. Mal knew the rules; here, not only was he in new territory living a clean, law-abiding life, but he had no idea what the protocol was when it came to living with your gossipy colleagues inside a giant metal box. At least on a station, he could go to a bar or get away when somebody was pissing him off. Before he could think it, though, Mal turned back toward the mess hall. Maybe he couldn’t punch somebody out, but he could at least stand up for himself. Zara and the rest of the crew looked up in horror as he stepped into the doorway, his tendrils twitching and flaring with light in clear irritation.
“I… apologise for last night,” he said through clenched teeth, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. It won’t happen again, but if you could refrain from talking about me whenever I turn my back, that would be nice.”
“Oops,” Kris whispered, and Zara pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Of course.” The captain replied. “We are sorry.”
Mal turned and stalked away, pausing at the end of the hall to listen. He was glad to hear nothing but the sound of Zenk awkwardly cleaning plates in a silent room.
~
There was a heavy shudder as the ship settled into the gravity dock of Io station. Mal was grateful for the all-clear sign and unstrapped himself from his seat, stretching and cracking back in discomfort. Those straps had not been designed with a four-breasted person in mind, so each time they docked or took off, he was forced to squash at least one set of tits against his chest until the procedure was done. He grabbed the datapad and double-checked their manifest; they were dropping off basic foodstuffs to some company and picking up…Threxian spirits. Immediately, Mal felt his ears prick up (literally). Threxian spirits were among the most potent in the galaxy. A single shot was enough to get a human blackout drunk in minutes. It went for a high price on the black and moonshine markets. If he could just pinch a bottle or two, he could undoubtedly find somebody over on Europa station willing to take it off his hands tax-free. The famous ‘party station’ that was Europa boasted more clubs and entertainment parks than most other stations combined, and it just so happened to be their next stop.
Mal almost felt like he was in a trance, moving down to the cargo bay and supervising the transfer of goods. As he signed the datapad for the spirits, he noted down the number listed: seventy-five bottles, all packed in glass bottles that could oh so easily shatter during transport if people weren't careful. He was even in charge of the paperwork, it would be easy to skin a few bottles off the top and claim they broke during lift-off.
“You can relax, you know. Zara isn’t going to bite your head off if you forget to cross a t or dot an i.”
Mal had been so stuck in his own head he hadn't even noticed Raymond approaching. He’d placed the useless sunglasses over his eyes. He was grinning playfully, and Mal realised he was gripping the datapad so tight that his grey knuckles had turned white.
“Ah, sorry, I am new to this.” Not entirely untrue, really.
“Didn't you work as a clerk on Callisto?” Raymond raised an eyebrow before his expression quickly changed to one of understanding. “You lied on your resume, didn't you?”
“Uh, sort of,” Mal admitted he never even saw it; all that had been handled by the officers. “You won’t tell the captain, will you?”
“Look, so long as you do the job okay, your secret is safe with me.” Raymond grinned, “I may or may not have added a few years of experience to my own when I got my first flying job, in that I said I had any experience at all.”
“You lied about being a pilot!” Mal gaped, “You could have crashed! You can’t just learn to fly a spaceship on the job!”
“I grew up on spaceships.” Raymond shrugged, “Pa was a transport captain. I knew the basics, and I will have you know I only crashed one spaceship when I first started.”
“...I am beginning to think this job was a bad idea.”
“That was ten years ago! I could barely shave!” Raymond laughed. “I’m plenty experienced now.
“Alright then. I won't tell if you don’t.” Mal agreed, and Raymond offered a fist, which Mal awkwardly bumped with his own.
“Deal.”
Raymond then hurried down the gangplank into the station, leaving Mal alone with the manifest and the crates of Threxian spirits. Grabbing two and hiding them was easy enough, though for the first time, a strange feeling coiled in his gut; it wasn't until later he realised it was guilt.
~
That guilt seemed to follow him over the next day as they travelled to Europa Station. He’d never felt guilty breaking the rules before, then again, he’d mostly done it under orders. When he’d given himself the five-finger discount it had been at the same time as stealing for Murdeek; he knew better than the skin off the top of the gang lord’s items but if he was sent to rough up a few rival gang members, what was the harm in grabbing a watch here or there? Something about this felt…different.
“Hey! Mal!” Kris came running up to him in the hall. “Did you want to come play cards with Zenk and I? The dude has the best bluff face on the planet, I need somebody to help me edge him out.”
“Poker?” Mal felt his ears prick upwards. He loved cards; it was how he and the boys spent most of their time hanging around waiting for Murdeek to give them something to do.
“Yup! I dunno, instinct tells me you play a mean game.”
“Your instincts are right, I will end you both.” Mal grinned. This was the perfect opportunity for him to pad his new bank account with a few extra credits before he made a run for it in a few weeks.
Kris trilled excitedly and half ran back to the mess hall where Zenk was waiting, slowly shuffling a deck of cards. His excitement was thick in the air, and Mal could almost taste it; it made him feel tingly inside in a way that he thought best to ignore. Zenk silently dealt out the cards, and Mal kept his face serene and calm as he took in the amazing hand he’d been dealt. Kris looked visibly sad; no poker face to speak of, but Zenk, as always, was about as expressive as a wall.
The first round went quickly, with Mal winning without much trouble. The second though, Zenk cleaned them both up without even saying a word. Mal’s brow furrowed and a genuine smile split across his features. Kris was constantly chattering away while Zenk looked on implacably, both were surprisingly good players and Mal found himself actually enjoying their company. They were about to start the third round when suddenly, there was a shudder from the engines.
“Well, that’s probably no goo-agh!”
Kris never got to finish his sentence because a moment later, they were all floating out of their seats.
“The anti-grav is gone!” Kris yelled.
“Really, I never would have guessed.” Mal tried to cross his arms and rolled his eyes, but once again, his second set of tits got in the way.
Zenk huffed and awkwardly lumbered out the door, which Mal guessed was his equivalent of saying, “I’ll go see what’s going on”. Leaving him and Kris to awkwardly float around, trying to gather up the cards threatening to lodge themselves into every air vent they could find. Mal twisted and turned in the air, immediately getting a faceful of his own tendrils as he tried to manoeuvre in mid-air. His lithe body was more flexible than his human one had been and he managed to reach out and grab hold of a handle to right himself just in time to see Kris literally bouncing off the walls like a kid on a bouncy castle.
“This is sort of fun!” He laughed, “You just push of and-uh oh!”
Mal had just enough time to brace himself when the Plumarian slammed into him, knocking them both into the middle of the room without anything to anchor them.
“S-sorry!” Kris stammered, flailing in an effort to find something, anything to grab hold of. Unfortunately, his hands only found Mal’s chest.
Mal barely held back a surprised moan as he felt those hands brush over his nipples, of course, Kris let go straight away, but the damage was done, Mal’s body was responding and he could feel his tendrils quiver in an effort to keep the pheromones at bay. Mal couldn’t believe how easy it was to get turned on in this body or how hard it was to keep from projecting it.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Kris cried, still flailing in an effort to get himself out of this situation but all he managed to achieve was getting his arms tangled in Mal’s tendrils.
“Oh…” It was a soft, pleasured gasp, but this time Mal couldn’t keep it at bay. Nobody else had touched his tendrils before he didn't realise how good it felt. As Kris’ fingers ran along them the lights inside twinkled, and pleasure pooled between Mal’s legs. The Plumarian may as well have been stroking his inner folds; that’s how nice it felt, and the slight scratch of his taloned nails only made it feel better.
“Does that hurt?” He asked with concern, and Mal had to concentrate to keep his voice level.
“N-no…”
Oh God, he was going to cum, why was Kris still touching him? He obviously had no idea those light strokes along his tendrils felt orgasmically good, or maybe he did. Mal couldn’t be sure he was keeping his empathetic powers in check.
“Ah, there, if I can just untangle my wrist…”
Kris grabbed one of the tendrils gently and lifted it to slide his wrist out. Mal hadn’t even realised he was curling them around the man without thinking, almost pulling him closer in an effort to get more friction.
“Oh…Ohhhh God. Kris, s-stop I’m going to… t-to-!”
It was too late, his body shuddered as an orgasm washed over him. The wave of pleasure made his control finally slip, and Mal could feel his empathic field expand in an explosion of pheromones so potent that Kris’ eyes went wide, and a moment later, he groaned as a wet patch appeared on the front of his jumpsuit. If he weren't busy cumming, Mal would have felt embarrassed about making a man cum with her pheromones alone. A moment later, there was a whirring sound as gravity returned, and both He and Kris floated slowly to the ground, where they lay for a moment, basking in the afterglow because the humiliation set in.
“I uh, I didn't realise I was…”
“Me either.” Mal swallowed before turning to Kris and giving his best death glare. “You will not tell anybody. Understand, or I will end you.”
Mal didn't expect the threat to work as well without his deep masculine voice, but somehow, it sounded even more chilling coming from his new, soft one. Kris seemed to agree because, for once, he stopped talking and simply nodded.
~
Unfortunately, his pheromones made it pretty obvious something had gone on, and it didn't take long for the rest of the crew to know that something had happened between them. Especially because Kris, as it turned out, was the universe’s worst liar. When Zara asked if everybody was okay after the glitch, his immediate response was to babble like an idiot.
“Fine! Totally fine, why wouldn’t be? I mean, it’s not like we could do anything. Together, I mean, since the gravity was off. I certainly didn’t do anything at all. Did I Mal? It was just us hanging out in the air, not touching at all.”
Mal wanted to slap him; he’d known a few squealers in his time (technically, he was one himself, that wasn't a great realisation), but Kris put them all to shame. He couldn’t keep a secret if his very life depended on it. The trip to Europa Station was taking twice as long as usual, thanks to the engines acting up. It turned out the anti-grav mishap wasn't exactly a rare occurrence, and Haven was prone to little breakdowns. Kris seemed happy to have an excuse to hide away from everybody within the crawl spaces of the ship, trying in vain to get the engines to go at least 75% capacity. Mal had no such excuse and made do with only being out of his room when he strictly needed to be.
At night, he struggled to sleep. A tempting little voice in his head begged him to touch himself again. Those orgasms were addictive, but he couldn’t risk it, not after he’d humiliated himself a second time. Mal tossed and turned in bed, remembering how good it felt to have his tendrils stroked. As he squeezed his eyes shut, he found his fingers twitching, tempted to run along the ridges until he came again. Unable to take it, Mal threw off the covers and went to find something to drink to occupy his thoughts. Voices murmured through the walls of the ship, and his sharp ears pricked at his name. Mal knew better, but his curiosity got the best of him. Mal followed until he ended up in the cargo bay. Zara was sitting with Raymond, legs dangling off the gantry with a bottle of strong-smelling whiskey between them. Zara turned and blushed with a groan.
“Fuck me.”
Mal raised an eyebrow and giggled.
“You were talking about me? For once, I didn’t overhear.”
“Great! That means Zara here can say it to your face.” Raymond grinned, giving her a little shove. “Go on, tell her what you just told me.”
“Raymond, you’re a real piece of shit. You know that?” Zara huffed, taking a swig of the whiskey right from the bottle before offering it to Mal. He reached out with a tendril and took the bottle, bringing it to his hands and taking a deep drink. It was cheap whiskey, the kind designed to be drunk just like this, right from the bottle with a bunch of friends while feeling sorry for yourselves. If he closed his eyes and listened to the groaning of the ship around them, Mal could almost pretend he was back on Calisto station on watch while the boys loaded up drugs. He let out a satisfied sigh and felt Raymond and Zara do the same.
“Man, can you do that more often?” Raymond smiled lazily, “Instant relaxation.”
“Ah, I let my control slip again.” Mal blushed, sitting beside Zara and letting his feet dangle in the air. “Sorry.”
“You’re not very good at that, are you?” Raymond said and Mal screwed up his nose.
“Rude.”
“Drunk.”
“...Fair.”
The three of them sat in silence for a bit, listening to the rumble of the engine and exchanging drinks. Mal could see Zara’s face was still red, and a wicked idea crept into his head. Carefully, he moved one of his tendrils to the base of her spine and ran it up the curve, causing her to shriek in surprise and almost bolt upright. Mal threw back his head and laughed, mostly to distract himself from how nice it felt to do that.
“Come on, Zara, don’t look so offended. Weren’t you just talking about how sexy you thought those things were?” Raymond teased and Mal raised his eyebrows.
“Really? Doesn’t seem very professional of you, Captain.”
“Oh, please.” The woman sighed, “I managed to convince you this was a proper cooperation for about five minutes. I’m Captain in name but really this is just a bunch of people trying to keep an old clunker together long enough to make ends meet.”
“I was wondering about the little breakdowns.” Mal eyed some frayed wires in the ceiling. “I was beginning to think maybe Kris planned the little anti-grav issue.”
“Nah, Kris is a good engineer. He’s just got his work cut out for him with ol’ Haven.” Zara sighed. “She should have been retired years ago, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, y'know? I bought her when I was just a kid. Too stupid to realise I was being ripped off. I'd grown attached by the time I realised she was a hunk of junk. This ship was the first thing, the very first thing, that was ever one hundred percent mine, you get what I mean?”
The odd thing was, he did. Owning a ship meant freedom, it meant independence and the ability to go basically anywhere. Many people dreamed of owning one until they saw the price tag that came with running it. His mind drifted back to the manifest of cargo and all the money that Threxian spirits would make; it was a hefty sum, to be sure, but it would only cover fuel for a few days. That same guilt began to twist in his gut again, and he did his best to ignore it.
“Fuck it, Mal, you’re a real pretty lady. There I said it! Are you happy now, Raymond?” Zara laughed, and Mal couldn’t help but giggle, too.
“You walk in here with your glowing hair thingies and your big boobs, all four of them and what am I supposed to do not find you attractive?”
Mal looked Zara up and down, taking in the green eyes that were slightly foggy from whiskey and her pretty lips.
“You’re not so bad yourself.” He admitted.
“She liiiiiikes you.” Raymond gasped, and this time, both of them punched him. “Abuse! What will the union have to say about this!”
All three of them laughed, and Mal took another sip of the whiskey, enjoying the burn as it went down his throat. This was…nice. He didn’t think about his eventual escape plan for the first time but rather just enjoyed the moment, especially when Zara’s hand brushed his. It was a simple touch, but for some reason, its heat lingered on his skin for the rest of the night.
