Wild Rides

Chapter 5 - Art is What You Make It

Mr. Captain Scrumptious Nafain and I walked alright. We strolled directly to the drinks table where he confidently stole an entire unopened bottle of that ultra-expensive lorca nectar and held his hand out, palm upwards, toward a hallway.

"My crew and I are staying in the station tonight since the accommodations were included. Would you like to continue our conversation there?"

What conversation was he talking about? We had only been making googly eyes at one another, lust spearing the air between us like a molten kabob. "Do you have more art pieces there?" I asked, just to tease him while running my gaze slowly down the muscles of his toned arm all the way to those thick fingers and licked my lips.

His eyes, already betraying just how horny he was with black that gobbled up the irises, darkened further. "Isn't art what you make of it?"

Oh, my. Sluuuurrrpp. He wanted to make art? Yes, please. I was feeling crafty. If I could have purred out loud, I would have, but instead, I gave him a long and assessing look as I sipped the remaining liquid from my glass. "Are you an artist?"

Captain Nafain looked like he wanted to pounce on me and I would not have resisted one bit. "I dabble."

I was going to dabble his dick, that was for sure. "And what mediums do you prefer?" I asked, taking a nonchalant step toward the hallway.

He mirrored me, hands idly spinning the bottle around and around and gave me a sizzling once over. "Ones that are wet and pliable. Ones that give under my hands, yet don't break."

"So well spoken, yet I'd like to see for myself at some point tonight," I reminded him. We were still at the mouth of the hallway with my back to it and had not ventured deeper during our metaphorical dirty talk.

"Hmm," he hummed, taking slow steps towards me. The captain came within a hair's breadth of my body, looking down at me as if to accentuate our height difference and then continued to saunter down the hallway. He wanted me to follow, trailing after him with my tongue lolling out like a pet dog.

I wasn't above it.

I followed him, hungrily watching his shoulders shift under the fabric of his tight clothing, the bunch of his well-toned ass with each step. He continued to twist the bottle in his hands as he walked, never looking back to see if I was following, so sure in his seduction of me that he never even wondered if it had worked. If I didn't need his fingerprints, it would have been interesting to tease him, to hang back or rejoin the gala just to see what he would have done.

Perhaps he would have tossed me over his shoulder or begun kissing me right there in front of everyone. It was alright. I enjoyed a cocky male. He wouldn't know what I had done until I was fully across the galaxy with a crate full of Robah crystals and possibly one of the Gelvonian art pieces to remember his extra-fine body.

The nectar was already buzzing like a warm, living thing in my stomach, fueling my bad decisions with all sorts of confidence and bravado. He could do whatever he liked to me. Work was work.

The captain waved his braceleted wrist in front of his suite door and the lock beeped, allowing him to open it. My pulse increased as I approached and he finally glanced at me with a look that was equal parts smug and coaxing. I was still carrying my dainty glass around, empty though it was, and pressed it into his free hand as I stepped inside. His chuckle chased my steps, the click of the door the only sound that he had joined me in the private space and I felt his presence like a tidal wave reaching up and over me, moments away from consuming me.

To hide the fact that goosebumps were climbing my arms with anticipation, I strolled into the sleek living area, long couches bordering a sunken alien firepit that had no flames but heat-producing spheres that glowed a vibrant blue. I heard the wax plug being torn from the bottle, feeling his eyes skimming my body like a physical touch, and then the burble of more nectar refilling the glass.

"I don't see any art," I drawled. There weren't any landscape paintings or sculptures to speak of as there would have been on Earth. "Were you talking about the performative kind, I wonder?"

When I finally turned, he was in the midst of downing a swig of the nectar, probably much more tolerant to such potency than I was. "I have a clear view from here," he said, his voice dropping.

I lowered myself onto the couch, internally reminding myself that I was a captain and equal to him in power even though he made me feel tiny. I needed to exude just as much strength as he did or risk exposing myself. He rounded the counter and approached me, handing me a full glass. I would need it if I was going to tango with this giant.

"How can you sculpt me if I am not wet?" I asked boldly.

Nafain stepped before me and kneeled to the carpeted floor, placing his large and warm hands on my knees. "You cannot lie to me. I can smell just how wet you are already."

My breath shuddered out of me as he carefully moved my legs apart, palming the sides of my thighs, before sliding beneath them and pulling me toward the couch's edge. I watched him push my dress upwards until it was around my hips, exposing the slinky, see-through lace thong I had worn. Too bad it wasn't edible.

"Do you know why Gelvonians are renowned lovers?" he purred, inhaling just in front of my sex as his fingers toyed with the edges of the waistband, tugging them languidly down my thighs.

Because they were huge, golden, big-dicked, Adonises? Because his smolder had already caused my panties to be drenched and it was just as obvious to him when he drew them down and away. Because his voice was alone could have made me cum if he whispered filthy things in my ear? Or D, all of the above?

"We believe fucking is an art form. One that takes a lifetime to master."

"Hopefully, you have had some practice," I murmured, running my fingers through his hair and marveling at its secret coarseness. The way it shone, I thought it would be silky.

The captain smirked, pulling my legs wider. "Oh, yes."

I wasn't sure what prompted me to do it, other than the fact that I was incredibly horny and the drink had obliterated my inhibitions, but I tipped the glass and let a small amount dribble just above my center so that the golden liquid dribbled down onto my clit and trickled between my folds.

Two things happened simultaneously. Nafain dropped his head, tongue flicking out to catch the excess, diving right into my pussy, and wherever the nectar had touched lit my skin up with a tingling warmth, just as it had down my esophagus. It was imperative that I pretended like I knew that property of the drink because I consumed it regularly and stifled my gasp, letting my hips roll into the pressure of his tongue and hot breath with a moan.

The sucking slurp as he drank my nectar-infused wetness made me shiver. He readjusted my legs again, pushing them obscenely wide due to the width of his shoulders, and moved his mouth to my pulsing clit, laving it like he could get more of it from me. I felt his finger stroke along my seam, letting me know that he would make sure that I was filled, teasing up and down.

"Fuck," I groaned, trying to move my hips onto the digit.

His other hand left my thigh and reached up to spread over my abdomen, keeping it in place. I placed the drink temporarily on the side table next to me, tilting my head back with a smile while I let him stir me up. Unbeknownst to him, he had given me access to his ship, fingerprints scanned and downloaded by my trusted tattoos. I could make some excuse and leave him blue-balled and wanting. Or golden-balled, rather, but I would have my cake and eat it too.

I surged when his finger entered me, slow and much larger than it had looked, angling to curl onto my g-spot. The action should not have stretched me as much as it did, almost like he had stuffed three fingers in me at once. I had to look down when I felt him stretch a third hand up, skimming up my body beneath the tight dress to pinch my nipple roughly. Impossible.

I gasped, partially because he had tugged me back from the edge of a building orgasm and partially because I saw the end of his tail writhing between my legs. The captain was tail-fucking me and it was the kinkiest thing I had ever witnessed.

Little did I know, my night was just getting started.