{All characters depicted in this work of fiction are of legal age of consent.}

1
Prosperity’s Sangheili barracks was unusually noisy for the time of day. If only because Sniperess and I were the sole occupants, and my alien girlfriend was making happy, wet gulping noises as my cock slurped repeatedly into her throat.

She lay elegantly sprawled on her back across her bunk, though if it wasn’t her bunk some poor Sangheili sod was bound to be wondering why his sheets were damp and musky. Sniperess’ head was tipped back over the edge of the mattress, leaving her long hair pooling on the floor between my knees. My hands were all over her as she pawed at the sheets and squirmed in place, rubbing her thighs together as her back arched off the bunk. She moved the same way she did whenever my tongue delved into her snatch, although today she was the one performing oral.

Her throat hummed around my cock while I swabbed the tight wet hole with the same deep, passionate strokes I’d given her pussy just moments ago. She’d been the one to pull away, then whip around before sticking out her tongue to guide me into her mouth. As always, it amazed me how she was able to get off on being deprived of air, but the feel of her slippery swallowing action hugging my member pushed scientific curiosity to the back of my mind, letting the inner neanderthal to take the reigns for a bit.

My fingers caught on her hard nipples, tweaking them and kneading the soft flesh of her breasts as I felt a torrent of cum build up. Every ten seconds I had been pulling back to let Sniperess catch a few breaths, not the type of courtesy she gave on her more dominant days.

But on my last set I’d been going for eleven seconds when I realised my body was no longer obeying my commands. She felt my cock swell in her throat and she reached out, grabbing my hips and holding me firmly in place so I couldn’t pull away, before accepting a load directly down her gullet. Her throat vibrated with another ecstatic moan and her body convulsed. Her ass lifted off the bunk for a moment, then coming down from her own high she crashed back into the mattress before her fingers finally slipped weakly from my hips.

I quickly pulled back hoping I hadn’t choked her badly. Though as per usual my fears were alleviated when I looked down and saw that glazed over expression of pure bliss on Sniperess’ face. A few final spurts of cum dribbled between her mandibles and pooled in the roof of her mouth as a sloppy mess decorated her face as much as it did my balls.

She didn’t squirt like a mad this time, but she definitely hit that orgasmic high she always did when I plugged her throat. Her thighs had been folded over one another as she squirmed under me, and when her legs opened, a wet sticky mess glistened on her sleek skin, forming a wet patch on her issue sheets.

There was a furious blush across her mandibles as she lay there taking deep, calming breaths interrupted by a few gulps to clear her ravaged airway. She rode out her post orgasmic daze perfectly still, not bothering to move from her compromising position, gazing up lovingly while her slender fingers gently laid over mine still feeling across her tingling nipples. 

We were still at that stage where no matter what I said, she wasn’t going to understand me. But Terp had taught me some phrases here and there, and in a few words of broken Sangheili that were becoming very familiar as of late, I told her that she was amazing. And despite probably sounding like a slow child, Sniperess’ expression brightened even more.

No matter how often she heard me repeat the same compliment again and again, she seemed to appreciate the effort I was making above all else.

As I bent down and planted a trail of soft kisses from her left nipple up to her sleek throat, my watch beeped. At first I thought perhaps my past few minutes of biometrics data had been streamed to med-bay where a team of doctors were freaking out about Corporal Timber Wolfe allegedly undergoing a heart-attack. But when I checked I saw it was actually a meeting reminder. 

With a sigh, I tried my best to indicate to Sniperess I had to go. I gestured my watch, then pointed at the door. She rolled onto her front and stared, and I tried again, adding ever more complicated gestures and mimicry of me walking into a meeting room for a debrief with my superiors. And as the little game of charades made me feel ridiculously self-aware, I noticed a small amused smile forming on her mandibles, making me chuckle.

She was leading me on. Clearly Terp had been teaching her about human comedy.

Sniperess joined with a small barking laugh, then held out a towel for me. She just lay there, head resting in one hand, watching me clean up to the best of my ability and put my clothes on before I kissed her gently on the head one last time before leaving.

I made it to the captain’s office with barely a minute to spare. There was a Sangheili just outside the door. A recognisable female from Zara’s ambassadorial retinue, indicating the good ambassador was already inside. If the debrief time had been shifted, I hadn’t been notified. Maybe she was just early.

I had been accompanying Zara on visits to Lady Zestous on Verdun for almost a month now. All the discussions had thankfully been about Brute workers’ rights on Verdun, minimum wage, all the sort of union stuff. Zestous had insisted on ‘refreshments’ the first couple of meetings, indicating my presence interested her more than the idea of diplomacy. However, as discussions went on, it quickly became less about drinking my essence right from the tap. The plight of Brute workers on Verdun took Zestous’ interest when she realised these little talks were making a serious difference.

With all that going on, the UNSC was all too happy to let me officially remain on Zara’s security detail. That way they had their very own little fly on the wall, just in case they wanted details on meetings Zara glossed over.

As I approached the office, the Sangheili guard breathed in deep before she gave me one of those ghastly alien ‘fuck-me’ looks Sniperess shot me pretty much every time I entered her line of sight. The way she sniffed as I approached left me suddenly very aware of where my dick had been only minutes ago, and I sniffed under my own pit wondering if I reeked of alien sex.

Too late for a shower, I offered her my politest grin and awkwardly shuffled into the captain’s office. Thankful she didn’t sneakily cop a feel as I passed.

Zara was seated at the captain’s desk, and beside a long panoramic window overlooking much of the station and Verdun glowing green and blue far below us, stood Captain Wolfe. My mother only glanced up to check who had just entered, then wearing the usual resting bitch-face angled her gaze back to the tablet in her hands. 

Zara in the meantime half turned to nod a greeting at me. And as she did, swivelling her curvy ass in the seat and swinging her long slender legs out to one side, I felt my gaze drawn away from the mature alien and to the woman sitting in the captain’s chair.

The woman’s face made me freeze on the spot and I saluted more out of fear than reflex. My mouth opened to report for the debrief, but my throat was so dry that trying to force out a sound was like trying to cough up a strip of sandpaper.

Perhaps you’ll recall my prattling during my encounter with Mistress about a certain ex-girlfriend with a lust for exotic shaped sex toys. Well, it seemed she wore the shiny silver eagle of a captain now-and-days, along with the Task Force Prosperity patch sewn into the shoulder of her dress jacket. It was the same patch I wore on a velcro-strip on my own shirt, a silhouette of Prosperity station halo’d by a laurel wreath. 

Captain Tasha Loque – my ex – gave me the same impassive look my mother did. It seemed true despite what guys would say, your girlfriends reflect your mother in some way shape or form. And about ten years ago I seemed to have gone through a phase of attraction to cold, authoritative women in the dominant position over me. Tasha had been a lieutenant when I was stationed on the UNSC Catcall. And in line with her unyielding professionalism, she’d follow protocol to the letter when summoning me, a lowly corporal, to her quarters under the guise of some grunt-work.

Though grunting was admittedly involved as we would spend our off-duty hours having kinky, weird sex.

Don’t judge me. I’m a marine. And Lieutenant Loque was hot. Captain Tasha Loque was still hot.

She was my age, still unmarried given the lack of ring on her dainty finger and her figure didn’t have the tells of motherhood. But that didn’t surprise me, even though she was pretty enough to get any man she wanted and procreate like a rabbit. Tasha was pretty much built like a lingerie model – the athletic ones, anyway – and I knew from experience how gymnastic and flexible she was. She had sharp feminine features that never seemed to change expression except when she exited the public view and rose to orgasm riding a dragon-cock.

Her hair was a bright shade of purple as if it were an Aposematic signal. And whereas I’d known the colour to change, the style was at least consistently in a sideswept bob that warned baristas and retail workers across the universe that the manager would need to be called soon.

If Tasha recognised me, she didn’t show it, merely waving me to a free seat beside Zara. “Take a seat, corporal. I hope you don’t mind, we got started without you. It was important to get the ambassador’s update out of the way.”

She spoke tersely, a tone I remembered vividly that she would adopt when ordering me to undress. Back in the day that sort of thing made my dick hard enough to cut glass. Though now I was a little more grown up it made my brain twitch reflexively as if I was about to be struck in the face with plasma. Live and learn, I guess.

“It seems the UNSC needs you back,” Zara said with a hint of disappointment as I sank into the chair. “Thank you with your help so far, Wolfe. Thanks to you Lady Zestous is now fully invested in our talks. I’ve already brought up your absence in future meetings with her, and for now she understands and is agreeable.”

“I was glad to help, ambassador,” I said truthfully. “So, I’m officially back under UNSC command?”

“You never left it,” Tasha informed coldly. “However, given your success with our new allies, I’m inclined to keep you on standby as an inter-service liaison.”

“That being said,” mom said without taking her gaze off her tablet, “you’re needed for a pending UNSC operation.”

The shifting of Zara’s dress caught my attention and I watched her stand. “And that is my cue. Thank you again for your assistance, Wolfe, and I hope we get to work closely together again soon.” She set a slender hand on my shoulder, then leaned in closer to whisper, “In the meantime, I’ll be sure to hold up my end of the bargain.”

I was unaware we’d entered some sort of bargain. At least until she reminded me by adding: “I’ll begin tutoring your spirited young lady-friend as soon as we both have some free time.”

As Zara left and I was sitting sheepishly between my mother and ex-girlfriend, hoping neither of them had heard that parting comment, Tasha slowly tapped through some commands in her desk interface. Moments later a holographic projection of a foreign star-system appeared in front of me. The galactic overview put it just a few systems over, a couple of days journey by slip-capable ship.

“I have another meeting soon, then prep for the gala next week. Let’s make this quick. This is the Hancock System.” Tasha pointed at the medium sized planet in the third position from the sun. “The capitol world is Aiad, a planet rich in natural resources, from uranium down to every form of metal ore known to humanity. The world is littered with production plants and quarries, with a sprawling dry-dock system in orbit.”

The holographic view zoomed into Aiad and I bore witness to a sprawl of docks and orbital facilities circling the equator. They were all full. However, not a single sleek alien cruiser sitting in orbit looked finished. At most, one prowler class vessel looked to be about ninety-percent completed, but with a bit of gusto a small colonial population with enough drive could easily churn out an invasion level fleet inside of an Earth-standard year.

“The planet is a ship factory,” I commented and Tasha nodded.

“Correct. One that is currently owned by Covenant loyalists.”

That was bad. Worse than bad. I reached out and pinched the holographic planet between two fingers. The view zoomed out a little and small red diamonds highlighted the thousands of orbital ship-killers. Entire fields of orbital mines blanketed nearly every approach to the planet. Anything bigger than a corvette without the right IFF tags trying to get through would be blown into space-dust.

Mom took over the briefing, strutting over with a sharp ‘click-clack’ of her heels and perching herself on the edge of the table. She pulled a pen form her shirt pocket and gestured at the mine fields. “These blankets are not impenetrable, but if we assault them with an invasion force we’ll be cutting severely into our munitions and resources.”

My words to Lady Zestous a short while ago echoed in my head. We’re all hurting after the war. The last thing anybody wanted to do, even the UNSC, was waste time and resources picking a big fight. Except the Covenant loyalists on Aiad were getting ready to do exactly that, and nobody could do a damn thing about it without upping the ante.

“We need to take the shipyards away from Covenant loyalists, but we’ll have to be subtle about it.” Captain Wolfe continued. “Timber, you have been field-promoted to the rank of sergeant. You and your interpreter friend from the Sangheili fireteam will then accompany me to Aiad. We’ll have a small frigate and an AI pilot to ship us and a consignment of weapons to the Hancock System, where we’ll infiltrate via Pelican and arm the local Sangheili insurgents who have agreed to help us. Hopefully it will be enough for them to stage a rebellion and thwart the Covenant loyalists without the UNSC even having to lift a finger.”

I stared silently at the holographic star-system as the black-ops super-secret-squirrel-shit was unceremoniously dumped in my lap. Very little of it made sense at first, even as Tasha and mom prattled on like old friends, going over post-mission details that saw Aiad’s handover to the Arbiter on Sangheilios and the finer points of their ludicrous plan to incite a Sangheili rebellion on Aiad.

The most prominent question on my mind was ‘why me?’ I was but a lowly ODST corporal…

Ah, but I had just been fast-tracked up to sergeant, hadn’t I? How very convenient.

Sergeant Timber Wolfe, reporting for your shady and probably illegal three-letter intelligence agency operation. 

I glanced at my mother as she rattled off some logistical briefing.

It all started to make sense in a weird way.



2
Mom’s mission wasn’t a ‘we gotta go like yesterday’ sort of affair. She could abuse her power, nobody would have the balls to tell an ONI captain ‘no.’ But she could only stretch it so far. So, she couldn’t just pluck up any ship she wanted and go off half-cocked seeding insurgency on the other side of the galaxy. For this part she had to fill out the paperwork and get the necessary requisitions in order.

When the ship did finally pull into dry dock and the crew were relieved in place of a smart-AI, there were still other logistics to sort out. From the moment Captain Wolfe inspected the USNC Betelgeuse and gave us a green light, we had about forty-eight hours of prep time on Prosperity Station.

And Terp was a bro as usual, offering to do some of my logistical prep for me so I could spend some more time with Sniperess before shipping out. Eventually however, zero-hour dawned and we said a brief, albeit satisfyingly lewd, goodbye and my three-day journey to the edge of contested space began.

Our little frigate was cosy enough. Albeit of average civilian freighter bulk, built more for moving large amounts of cargo in as few trips as possible. The aesthetic was pretty rustic, with exposed piping and narrow re-enforced corridors. There was no denying she was a tough old bird, if not a little uncomfortable. But through and through, it looked like a civilian ship off on its way to do civilian things.

Perfect stealth without having to waste one of those new and expensive ONI stealth ships. I was even in traditional stealth mode, having roughed up my typical ODST cuirass to give myself an independent contractor type look. Civilian hermetically sealing fatigues with leftovers of my battered black armour over the top. The cuirass was missing the shoulder and thigh pads, giving it a stripped down and recycled look. And completing the mercenary gunslinger look was a tattered brown drab cape draped over my shoulders. Bit of a Sangheili touch that I’d copied from Terp. If we were to be seen together, best give the impression we were of uniform mind.

The idea was for us to look like pirates running an illegal shipment of guns to the Sangheili rebels on Aiad. That way if any prying eyes caught sight of us, the UNSC and more importantly ONI could pawn blame and bad PR off to pirates doing what pirates typically do.

Pretty standard fieldcraft, but I kind of liked it, despite the dodgy ramifications. I’d always liked playing pirate when I was a kid.

I had sort of started to miss all of this. I’d pulled triggers for secretive ONI killing machines in the past. That sort of territory came with being an ODST. Though the colony wars were before my time, so every gun barrel I’d pointed had been firmly lodged in the neck of an alien commander. I wondered if now that the war was over, how long it would take for ONI to turn my gun on my fellow man in the name of ‘suppressing insurrection.’

I shuddered to think and counted myself lucky it hadn’t happened yet.

Don’t get me wrong, Innies could suck bullets for all I care. But given everything humanity had been through lately, being unable to sort things out peaceably with our colonial neighbours without resorting to violence just didn’t cut it for me anymore.

“Are you alright?” a woman’s synthetic voice asked as her sensors picked up the subtle movements of my earlier shudder.

As I walked the length of the frigate tending to chores, our resident AI floated along with me. Why she insisted on hanging around while I mopped decks and patched leaky water conduits I had no idea, but at least the company was nice… or it would have been if she weren’t so damn sombre.

Evony was a state-of-the-art smart-AI, a completely self-aware learning machine. She represented the pinnacle of human intelligence. The bleeding edge of our mind’s evolution, capable of processing petabytes of data several thousand times faster, more accurate and more efficiently than the smartest human being alive.

And she was goth as fuck.

Like any AI, she picked her own appearance and personality based on some algorithmic factors in the human brain used to code and create the AI. In Evony’s case, it may have been a very smart, but also very depressed person.

She spoke in an even, sombre tone, with her dreary black and white avatar never smiling or even widening her eyes. Her avatar looked like a young woman in her twenties, clad in black leather with fishnet stockings, platform heels and a steel spike-studded collar around her neck. Her makeup gave the impression of panda-eyes against her milky-white skin and her raven hair was pulled into a set of half-assed pig tails. She hovered at my side in a slouch, drifting astride my military issue march like a depressing gothic ghost.

Despite all that though, Evony pretty much took care of everything on board, from directing maintenance drones to deal with technical queries, to accurately navigating us through the galaxy. My work was basic janitorial stuff in comparison, but it still needed doing.

There wasn’t all that much to do, however, so I was spending these few days learning to speak Sangheili; between Terp making an enthusiastic effort to teach me and a bunch of recorded lectures from Wheatley University. Even if I had a week’s worth of uninterrupted study time, it wasn’t a lot of time to learn a whole new language, especially one as complex as Sangheili. But despite being shit when it came to languages, I’d always been good at cramming for exams. I was getting along well enough for a jarhead.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“Sure,” the AI replied, analysing my response through a plethora of sensors. “Is the mission bothering you?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe. I’m pretty sure my mom only requested I come along to get me out of my ‘corporal’ comfort-zone. She wants me to go for commission, so I bet this dodgy mission was put together with the sole purpose of fast-tracking me to senior NCO. Some kind of a ploy to make me get a taste for it and go chasing after those officer shinies.”

Evony gave me a skeptical look. “That sounds like a rather complicated plot.”

“Yeah, well, we’re a complicated family.”

In retrospect I could have added the words ‘case-point-and-example’ as I walked into the locker room to prove my point exactly how complicated we were. But then if I had that sort of precognition I would have known not to walk into that room in the first place. Oh, the things I would tell my past self if I ever travelled back in time.

Terp was naked. Though, let’s be real, seeing Terp naked wouldn’t have been the first time, nor would it have traumatised me all that much under normal circumstances. He was in a locker room after all, his rippling musculature still glistening from his shower. Full frontal male alien nudity was kind of to be expected, and weirdly I was used to it.

Except Terp was seated on one of the benches, lounging back against the nearest set of lockers as the woman knelt between his muscular thighs caressed the enormous purple erection with both hands and her tongue. Red lipstick stains circled the pointed crown and left several perfect kissy-marks down along the ribbed shaft, with one in particular decorating his balls that swelled with a desperation to release all over his partner’s face. The knot that formed around the base in similar design to the toys I had used on Tasha back in the day was glistening with human saliva as the woman worshipped this alien dick like a reverent zealot prostrating before a throbbing spire of alien architecture.

Standard corps protocol for walking in on your battle-buddy jerking it or getting his dick otherwise wet kicked in immediately. I quickly turned out, shading my eyes. “Oh, fuck! Sorry, wrong roo-…”

Then I froze, remembering there were only three of us on board. I turned back for a double take, and if I had been sipping coffee it definitely would have shot out of my nose.

Natalie Wolfe knelt naked between Terp’s legs, and mom was going to town on that alien dick like she was a xenobiologist whose only hope at collecting data was having that big cock pop one off in her mouth. She was salivating all over it, revering it in her own stony way, keeping it greedily trapped in both hands as she rubbed her tongue, her cheeks, her lips, her whole face practically, up and down the length.

It was like watching a woman who possessed the only thing she had ever wanted in her life and to try taking it away was putting your life on the line.

With me watching with disbelief, my mother straightened her legs out and doubled over. She had long, slim thighs that left a gap wide enough to expose her tight, hairless quim. In build she reminded me quite a lot of Sniperess, which was about as disturbing as it was interesting.

With her head tipped back in this new position, she lined up her throat and with her lips pursed over the crown, she slid her mouth down over Terp’s cock. Her tongue slipped out about halfway down as she paused to adjust to the size of the thing she was trying to inhale. Then inch by inch she gulped it down, her throat bulging out in response but the woman taking it all with barely a hint of effort.

“What the fuck!” I shouted, the words coming out more as a declaration than a question.

Without so much as a gag, mom lifted off Terp’s cock, and brushed some tresses of dark hair from her narrowed eyes. A subtle little hint that she was irate, though I was unaware that she could feel emotions aside from cold disappointment.

With an arched eyebrow she said, “Some privacy would be nice, if it’s not too much to ask, Timber.”

“What the fuck!?” I repeated, uncertain what had happened to my ability to articulate my thoughts and wondering if the ability to do so would ever return.

Mom sighed, the sight of her straightening up and turning around to squat on Terp’s cock imprinted in my brain forever. She wore nothing bar her slut-tier dress heels, which admittedly looked good, the glossy black juxtaposed against her sleek, tight, creamy skin. The heels did wonders for her already sumptuous long legs and her slim body was dwarfed by Terp’s large, broad and muscular build in an erotic way. He was at least three or four times wider than the older woman. His massive hands on her shapely hips guiding her tight cleft down to the tip of his glistening and eager cock made her look petite and delicate. The way her hands pawed the ribbed shaft as it pulsed in her grip was seared into my memories as inch by agonising inch she sank lower to the bead of precum on Terp’s crown.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said with a sigh as her outer labia speared open to warmly massage Terp’s glans. Her own expression didn’t change, even though the Sangheili under her rolled his hips reflexively and let out an agog sigh. “But I haven’t been with a man in what feels like years. So, when I saw your friend in the shower, I just couldn’t help myself. You probably know what I mean anyway. Yes, I know about your alien girlfriend by the way. You’re the last one I expected to judge me for lusting after a handsome alien.”

I clawed at my eyes, having ignored almost everything she was saying. “Whaaaaaaat the fuuuuuuuuuuck!?”

“Look, if you’re so pent up that you’re going to be irritable the entire trip, I suppose my hands are free-…”

“Jesus!” I almost screamed, wheeling around and escaping at a jogging pace. In retrospect, I really should have just done that in the first place and not punished my cursed sight any longer.

As I left, I could still hear mom cooing at Terp through the door. “There, I figured that would get rid of him. Now, where were we, darling?”

My first stop was the bridge, where I would hopefully be able to establish an internet connection and ask the search engine if there was a safe way of pouring bleach in my eyes. Unfortunately there wasn’t; no connection and according to Evony, no safe way without permanent blindness. All I could do was keep myself busy and hope my mind didn’t betray me by straying to thoughts of Terp plunging his massive purple tool into my mother’s tight-…

“Wolfe, I’m picking up-…”

“Yes! Investigate! Let’s go!” I shouted, throwing myself into the operations station on the bridge. “I don’t care what it is. Just hit me with something to keep my mind off of my mother pole dancing on Terp’s dick!”

Evony sighed as if she were asked to perform a boring chore. “Fine. Whatever.”

We dropped out of slip-space a second later. The deceleration was so gentle, even while paying attention I almost missed it. No doubt Terp and mom were plenty distracted enough not to notice.

We emerged into real-space around an inter-stellar anomaly. For the most part, space between stars was an empty void, unless you were a stickler for detail and counted by particles. But every so often you came across an oddity. A nebula here and there, a malformed star sitting alone in the depths of nowhere. What we were looking at was much like the former.

It was a gas giant, somewhere between a planet and a sun that didn’t quite ignite. What had formed was a collection of gases so dense they created a gravity well. A swirling, super-dense storm in space. Murky browns swirled over deep chocolate clouds in the inner layers, with electrical storms flickering and flashing sporadically in places. There were no natural satellites, no nearby stars. Just a super-heavy ball of storms swirling around in deep space.

In orbit hung a ship. It had the bulky angular lines I’d seen on plenty of UNSC ships before. But the overall build and colouration didn’t match anything I’d ever served on. And I’d served on my fair share.

Evony’s IFF scanner agreed and flagged the ship as ‘NON-UNSC: CORNERIAN / 97% MATCH.’

I frowned at the readout. “Cornerian?” I keyed the manual scan controls. “Are you sure?”

“What do you mean, am I sure? Stop running a manual scan, you’ll only find what I just told you.”

Leaning back as if Evony might strike me if I continued keying commands, I stared at the alien frigate drifting about the gas giant. We were still deep in UNSC space. What was a Cornerian ship doing so far from the Lylat System? The fuzzie-wuzzies were a space faring species with ships faster than even the Covenant, but they never left their home system without good reason. Even in the height of the Covenant war, they’d used humanity as a bulwark against Covenant invasion, ignoring our pleas for help.

Just for that, even seeing one of their larger ships drifting dead in space, I wanted to just say ‘fuck ‘em.’ They hadn’t lifted a finger for me then, why the hell would I lift a finger for them now?

… then I remembered I wasn’t at all that facetious and opened a channel to the alien vessel.

“Unidentified Cornerian starship, this is the UNSC Betelgeuse. We’re reading your general distress. Please state your emergency.”

Static answered.

“Unidentified Cornerian starship, your distress beacon is not broadcasting any registration tags. Please identify yourself and state your emergency if we are to be of any assistance.”

Again, there was a long burst of static.

“Are they receiving?”

Evony nodded, her expression distant as she was running several diagnostics. “They’re receiving loud and clear. It’s as if nobody is picking up.”

I wondered if that was even possible on a starship crewing a couple hundred souls. Then again, we were on a similar sized ship with just the three of us putting our fate in the hands of an AI. Maybe the Cornerians were doing some dodgy black ink shit out here the same as us.

Or maybe they’d suffered a nasty accident and all the crew were cut off from the bridge.

Either way, there was an unidentified ship drifting in UNSC space, and the procedure was pretty clear.

“Okay. Start an EVA log. I’ll head over and take a quick looksee.” One of my screens blinked as the log initiated. Aware of the ship’s black box recording all my interactions for the next while, I ran down the official checklist to keep it somewhat professional for the desk-pilots who would peruse all this data later. “Evony, can you raise Captain Wolfe on comms, please?”

To her credit, it wasn’t entirely Evony’s fault. The AI was only doing what she was told.

A vid-link popped open on my console and Captain Wolfe appeared on conference. Except mom hadn’t noticed, because she was currently suspended in the air with her legs wide open, Terp’s large hands gripping her thighs as the slender human woman settled on his cock. 

One of her shoes had fallen off and her black hair had fallen out of its bun with all their rough lovemaking. And rough was under-selling it. Mom’s belly bulged out in the tell-tale ribbed design of rock-hard alien fuck-meat with every thrust, which in turn sent a small waterfall of feminine gratification trickling over a knot forming at the base and streaming off his balls to what I assumed was a puddle forming under them.

Her only grip on him was mom’s slim arms reaching up to hold on to Terp’s shoulders. But other than that, she dangled helplessly in his clutches. Body undulating up and down, her firm breasts rippling with every thrust as she grunted ‘more!’ and ‘harder, you filthy beast!’ through gritted teeth.

I scrambled forward and killed the display, cutting out the wet slaps of flesh and my mother’s lewd grunts of sexual effort mid-syllable.

“You know what? Forget it. I’ll be back before she even notices I’m gone anyway.”



3
I popped my head out of the airlock like a dog sticking his head out of a car window. Our frigate dwarfed the Cornerian ship, but it was no dwarf. At least half a mile long and given plenty of girth thanks to armour plating and guns rippling the flanks, this was a warbird with some hefty talons. To have dumped her dead in the water would have been no easy feat, but on cursory glance I didn’t see any battle damage. Her power was out, no running lights and no signs of fighting. Whatever ailed her, it had to be technical.

A readout on my HUD linked with Evony who beamed our speed differential in real time. When we hit 10m/s I let go of the Betelgeuse and leaped over. The transition from onboard Earth-norm-gees into zero-gee was rattling but familiar. I’d experienced it plenty of times as Pelicans or drop pods slid out into space with me aboard clinging for dear life. There was something liberating about launching myself into space on my own accord for a change.

With only a ten-metres-per-second difference, latching myself onto the Cornerian ship after a short vault through space was still like leaping onto a speeding freight train. I managed to latch onto a seam in the exterior structure and held on tight as I was jerked to a halt and flattened face down on the hull.

By the time I was on my feet, the Betelgeuse’s shadow had moved off and my visor dimmed to shield my eyes from the ion engines flickering on the butt-end of the bulky frigate.

“We’ll swing around the far end of the gas giant and rendezvous in two hours,” Evony promised, but her non-committal tone didn’t leave me feeling all that much better. “The Cornerian vessel will hit the gas giant in six hours, at which point the severe gravitational forces will crumple the ship and anything on board like a beer can.”

“Something ODST and special anomalies have in common. We’re good at crumpling beer cans,” I commented as I bounced in the low gravity towards an exterior hatch. It had a manual override system similar to what I was familiar with and I worked the crank to open the exterior door.

“Just don’t miss the pickup window or you’ll be the one crumpling.”

I frowned. “How so? If I miss first pickup just swing around again and get me?”

“You don’t understand.” Evony explained as I moved inside and manually cycled the airlock, equalising with the interior atmosphere. “In a little over two hours and thirteen minutes the Cornerian ship will pass the point of no return. To go in after it to rescue you after that point will doom the Betelgeuse to the same fate. In this scenario you will be left to die.”

I scoffed. “It would have been nice to know these particular details before I jumped over here!”

“You’ll be fine. Just don’t miss the pickup,” Evony said. Her voice faded and static started to buzz in my ear as the UNSC Betelgeuse moved out of personal comms range. “See yo-… -wo hours. Don-… -iss th-…”

Comms went dead. I was alone.

“Groovy,” I sighed sarcastically, before shoving my weight against the inner airlock door and swinging it aside.

Inside the ship was similar to aboard the Betelgeuse. The corridors were sleeker, wider and there was a lot of wasted space in my opinion. But it was pretty comfy. Aside from the dim emergency lighting and the eerie silence that wouldn’t be out of place in some space-zombie horror movie.

I pulled the M7S submachine gun from my thigh and activated the light attached flush along the girthy suppressor. I hadn’t brought anything else with me considering the enclosed quarters. And if my SMG couldn’t put it down, fat lot of good a sidearm was going to do anyway. Not that I actually expected to run into trouble.

At least, that had been my thinking right up until I saw the first of the bodies in the dim light. They were scattered across the deck, some slumped up against walls still gripping their weapons. It wasn’t a bloodbath, and it wasn’t until I crouched over the nearest alien anthro to inspect the damage.

The anthropomorphic wolf looked like his armour had been ripped open by energy weapons fire, fur and flesh charred just beneath. The others, a mixture of mammalian anthros ranging from bears and canines to felines, equines and lapines all suffered the same lethal injuries. Wounds were cauterised by energy projectiles and they lay in twisted, unceremonious heaps where they’d been felled.

I picked up a laser rifle and saw the ammo counter read ’00.’ The same for the next, and the next. These guys died fighting at least.

It looked like they could have been jumped by Covenant loyalists looking to scavenge tech. There certainly was enough plasma damage on the walls. Or it could have just as easily been Jackal pirates. Or even a mutiny. Maybe one of the Lylat System’s local threats had followed them out here, like Venomian Imperialists or Aparoid invader cells from… well, wherever the hell those guys were from.

A metallic rattle like a wrench being dropped down a trash chute rang from deeper inside the ship. The noise turned the deep and empty silence into a startling mess of noise, sharp and sudden enough it made the hairs on my neck stand on end.

Sensing trouble, I extended the SMG stock with a sharp tug, then shouldering the weapon pressed forward in a combat ready stance.

For all the good it did, because as the lights above my head flickered, the blow to the head came from behind.

Whatever hit me, it cracked against the composite armour with a dull thud, hard enough to make my vision blur and my brain to turn over in my skull. In a brief stunned moment, my attacker moved in close, wrapping their arms into a chokehold. They were skinny, limber and damn fast, raking my SMG out of my hand before I could bring it to bear and tossing it down the corridor.

I lifted my arms, snaking a hand between the forearm trying to get under my chin, before stepping back between the attacker’s feet and trying to hook their heel. But try as I might, I couldn’t kick them out of their sure-footed stance. They didn’t have any mass that I could tell, but they had planted themselves like a tree all the same. 

The move still got me the wriggle room I needed, and slipping the chokehold I managed to twist around and throw a tight right hook into their face.

Their head was a blur of black, red and blue-ish grey as they weaved around the blow like a butterfly on a breeze. Then they threw a knee into my gut. My cuirass caught the blow and I tried to disengage. But as I moved, the blurry gymnast all up in my visor moved with me, raining a flurry of left hooks that clanged on my armour as if their fist was made of poly-steel.

I shielded with my forearms, catching several of the blows before they cracked my visor open, then swung an armoured boot at the ribs. The blow broke on whatever skin-tight armour my attacker wore and they caught me off balance.

Lifted off the deck I was subsequently slammed into the nearest wall and my attacker pressed themselves tight against me. Tight enough that in the flickering lights I still couldn’t make out any features aside from a limber, yet obviously powerful physique. Their face slid across the side of my helmet and there was a ghostly, girly giggle whispering directly into my ear.

I lashed out with a punch into what felt like the ribs and the figure loosened. Just enough for me to keel sideways out of their grip and land on the deck hands-first, a quick roll carrying me out of range.

Landing on my feet and turning, the lighting finally stabilised, and standing between me and my gun further down the corridor was a lithe Sangheili figure. At first I was shocked, wondering how the hell Sniperess had followed me out here, and why she’d attack me. The height and build was about right.

But then my vision recovered from that blow to the noggin and I took in the finer differences.

The Sangheili girl was obviously about the same age as Sniperess, going by the height. She was less athletic and more ‘gymnastic’ so to speak. With a flat chest although hips oozing feminine curves, the spandex clad alien was peak tomboy. She was skinny enough it looked like I could knock her down just by blowing hard enough, and still she’d somehow kicked my ass.

She was clad from the neck down to her fingertips and boots in a tight suit not unlike typical Sangheili under-armour. Except this suit looked to have a fine hexagonal mesh texture, indicating there was some sort of trauma shielding built in. it was tight enough though that nothing was left to the imagination. Her nipples, hard with what could only be arousal, poked through the suit that squished down her already flat breasts and there was an obvious cleft-outline betraying her puffy and excitedly little pussy in the gap between her skinny thighs, along with a dark little spot where moisture was beginning to seep through.

The left sleeve ended just over the shoulder, revealing the entire arm was a robotic replacement. I’d seen the like on a few vets, but this was unlike those clunky, clumsy things. This one sported a smooth alloy in a similar shade of blue-grey to her pale skin, and in form it was a perfect mirror image of her remaining arm.

Wrapped around her waist was a utility belt, keeping a plasma pistol on her hip, along with the handles of plasma blades, a dozen or so traditional steel knives and what looked like a spool of cable like a garotte or a whip.

A midnight black plume cascaded form her scalp down to her skinny shoulders, and black face paint around her eyes brought out the fierce crimson disks. All the more terrifying, her eyes were as wide as her ghastly smile, her left eyelid twitching excitedly as she peered into my soul like a hungry succubus.

There was something very funny about this girl. And it wasn’t the ‘ha-ha’ type of funny either.

“It’s you. It’s really you!” she said, her voice just an octave above a whisper and shuddering excitedly in the same jittery way her eye twitched. “The Wolf of Verdun. Corporal Timber Wolfe. Although… your armour is kind of different. Though I like the gunslinger look. Very dashing.”

I kept my dukes up as if she was ready to jump me again. “It’s Sergeant Wolfe, I’ll have you know.”

“Sergeant? You’ve been promoted? Oh, congratulations~! That’s wonderful news.” She sounded so genuinely pleased it actually disarmed my stance, and I let my fists sag down to my sides a little. I honestly couldn’t tell if she was genuinely happy or if she was mocking me somehow. Who the fuck was this chick?

As if reading my mind, she reached down to her belt, brushing over a plethora of blades sheathed over her sleek hip and produced with a magnetic click a small glowing disk. An orb of light then appeared just above her palm as she held it out, an orb that turned into a convulsing blob and like a mass of clay in the hands of an artist sculped itself into a humanoid figure.

I’d never seen a Prophet in the flesh before, and that was still the case as I watched the hologram recording, no bigger than an action figure float an inch over the Sangheili’s hand. The creature sat in an ornate throne of some sort; its sleek design built for hovering in place as its elegant robes cascaded down a slender, wrinkled figure. A long giraffe like neck was perched by a small head with flat features and fleshy trimmings dangling from his jowls as the Prophet peered through me with large eyes.

“Greetings, Wolf of Verdun,” the Prophet said, just a little bit of an aged wheeze in his voice, but youthful confidence hung in his words none the less. “Don’t bother answering, this is merely a recording. Though I would relish some face to face time, it is unknown which assassin will reach you first, so I have given them all a recording to show you before you are dispatched.

“I am the Prophet of Lust,” the recording continued to say, drawing my brows up into a frown, “and though I doubt you know of me, you should at least know that you have been quite a thorn in my side. Therefore, I present to you one of my Ossoona. The ‘Eye of the Prophets.’ They are very proficient in removing thorns.”

His head turned to his ‘Ossoona’ and he nodded curtly, before the hologram vanished leaving a big, twitching grin on the Sangheili’s face. That expression of sheer excitement for what was going to come next – murder, I had no doubt – was peak disturbing.

This chick was just hitting all the peaks today.

“Oh, wow! This is so exciting,” she said with a shudder that rippled from her neck all the way down through her limber limbs. 

It seemed to linger between her legs the way she wagged her curvy hips and rubbed her thighs together. In the same motion she tossed the hologram projector over her shoulder, then seemed to forget what she wanted to do with her hands. They sort of just floated awkwardly between the notion she should seductively run them over her sleek body, or perhaps go for one of the knives on her belt.

“I’ve been wanting to meet for a long time,” she continued, elegantly taking a step forward. As she did I took a step back, suddenly far too unsettled to put up a fight. “I’m a huge fan of the story series. I even signed up as an exclusive member so I get exclusive sneak previews.”

I was already confused, trying to decipher what the hell she was babbling on about. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“Of course. I mean, the series is about you after all. How could you not know?” She giggled at some unspoken joke. “Although, a fan theory has been going around that you don’t actually know about the stories being published, but I don’t really get involved in those kinds of discussions. I’m happy to just hear about your exploits… and your skills. I even tried asking some of these fuzzy aliens to emulate the tongue things humans can do, but they weren’t exactly co-operative. But not to worry. I now have you aaaaaall to myself~!” 

I still had no idea what was happening, but my brain was slowly piecing together the most important facts. I was alone and unarmed on a derelict with a literal psychopath. Truthfully, that’s all I needed to know, and I reacted accordingly by pointing at something behind her.

“Look, what’s that!?” 

Ossoona turned in confusion and I bolted.

“Hey! Where are you going? Come back!” Her voice carried through the corridor behind me, followed by the click of her boots on the deck. But by that time, I was already around the corner and booking it in the direction of the airlock.

It didn’t take long for her to catch up though. She was quick on her feet, I had to give her that.

A small green sun sizzled past me on my left. The charged plasma bolt from her pistol shot so wide, Ossoona had either been trained by a Stormtrooper or she’d missed on purpose. Nevertheless, the searing light was so bright and sudden my visor failed to polarise in time and my vision washed out.

The ball of energy hissed where it exploded on the corridor wall, and I blindly tripped over something soft but firm. The leg of a Cornerian marine slumped up against the wall sent me stumbling a moment before I sprawled on the deck, landing face-down and ass-up; hoping to deep-space-Jesus that wasn’t the sound of a strapon behind me. 

When I rolled over, Ossoona jumped on me revealing the shuffling sound had been the insanely swift removal of bottom garments. Her suit, as it turned out, was a two piece affair. And with the exception of her boots, the Sangheili was suddenly naked from her utility belt down.

Uncovered, the little cross-shaped slit between her legs was as puffy and damp with excitement as I had figured earlier, the lips practically peeling open on their own accord as she pounced me.

The blade in her right hand scraped noisily on my chest plate as she fell on me, her bionic limb yanking at my belt to try and undo the buckle clips.

“Easy, my darling. Settle down,” she cooed, as her big crazy eyes stared into my visor. “Don’t move. I wouldn’t want to hurt you by accident.”

She forced her knife up under my chin and I felt the pressure of the blade press through the hermetic seal. It was enough to force me to sit still, regardless of where her robotic hand was delving.

Before long, she had somehow managed to fumble her long, steel digits into my pants and holding me firm in her cold prosthetic grip produced my cock for her inspection. Her eyes widened even further as she looked the length up and down, almost shyly exploring the shaft and fumbling the tip with her fingertips. Her soft touch despite the uncaring slender steel of her fingers was enough to get me hard, regardless of the knife at my throat. And besides, if she wasn’t satisfied, the knife my end up in my throat otherwise.

Giggling, she settled her hand over the glans and enveloped the shaft with her fingers, very gently giving it some loving attention from base to tip, then back down again. The caress made me tense against her palm, and she noticed the way it throbbed to her touch, making her giggle again.

“See?” she crooned in what would have been a comforting tone were it not for her manic stare. “I’m not going to hurt you yet. I’m going to make you feel good first!”

“Yeah, it’s that ‘yet’ part that concerns me, ya’ weirdo!”

She tightened her grip and increased the pace. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Just sit back and enjoy yourself. There’s so many things I want to try. There’s plenty of time for us to do all the same things you do in the stories. I want you to lick me and make me squirt like you do for her. Then like with that Jiralhanae whore, I want you feed me your load. Fuck my pussy and bulge my belly out like I’m a teeny T’vaoan princess.”

It was difficult to pay attention as she started milking me in a weirdly skilful massage. Her prosthetic hand had a sleek, cool sort of a polymer finish, but it was smooth and coupled with her tender, careful grip the motions felt good all the same. I perhaps would have been able to get off if she used the warmth in her other hand, although getting off too quick may have displeased her.

But despite how good she was stroking me, questions still leapt out of the aether.

“H-how the fuck do you know about all that?” I asked. “Are you st-stalking me?”

“Sweetie, all your adoring fans know,” Ossoona said soothingly. “It’s all in the books, told in wonderful and alluring detail. I’ll admit, I was just catching up on the new sneak preview that just went live. The bit where you’re hurrying to finish in the brave heroine’s throat before a scheduled debrief with your superiors. Just the idea of swallowing you whole, tasting your seed as it floods my gullet… oh, the thought makes me dizzy and so wet I can feel a drip running down my thigh.”

She arched her back and pressed her body up against mine. The tight, sleek lines of her figure may have felt good on bare skin, but I couldn’t feel anything through the layer of armour. At the same time she started lovingly jerking my cock with an erotic twist to her wrist. She started to undulate back and forth, rubbing herself against me like a needy cat looking for attention. Before finally, when she was rewarded with another throb of my erection against the sensors in her palm, she smiled morbidly and slipped her hand off the tip. Her fingertip caught a small bead of precum that had been forming on the crown and brought it up to her mandibles, sliding the slender digit between and into her throat where her tongue caught it eagerly for a taste test.

She slid down my body until my erection throbbed in front of her face, and her blade rasped down my side before poking me between the ballistic plates protecting my barrel. I was wearing civvies instead of a Kevlar under-layer, so all she’d have to do was press hard enough and my left lung would be ventilated.

As if unaware she was still holding me at knifepoint, Ossoona pressed down on the top of my cock a little before letting it bob straight up in front of my face.

“This first, I think,” she whispered warmly all over my member. Her breath was hot and reminded me of that moment just before Sniperess would fall on my erection and worship it with her throat. “I want to try this first, my darling. Like in the stories, your first load is going to be the most potent. The most flavourful. Then you’ll last even longer for the fun that comes after.”

Her red irises slid down a little as she tried to keep an eye on my cock, mandibles spreading open like the petals of a flower, or the outer labia of a Sangheili woman being pressed open. She gasped in, deep breath, then let the back of her throat settle over my crown. That was all she did for a moment, letting that hot, wet and slippery tunnel kiss my glans while her serpentine little tongue slipped down the underside of the shaft. It left a slick trial of saliva, that then began dripping down and pooling at my balls. 

Sangheili had long tongues that caught food between their mandibles and helped transfer it down their gullet. But like Sniperess usually did, Ossoona used her tongue for a totally different activity. It coiled about my cock and began to stroke up and down the shaft as the opening tightened around my crown. Ossoona gave a slurp and a light gagging noise, but her gaze only flickered as she adjusted, continuing to jerk and guide me into her throat with her tongue.

Sniperess would have sucked me in by now. But Ossoona clearly wasn’t as good as this. As if she’d been accepting detailed instructions from my alien girlfriend, she went through all sorts of familiar motions, albeit much more slowly. Ossoona started to pull, drawing me in with her tongue, bit by bit as I felt her throat struggle to open to my girth.

She barely got the head into her gullet when her body seemed to seize. I tensed, not only because her powerful muscles clamped tighter on my crown, but because I could feel the point of her dagger dig between my ribs a little more. Her spine curled and she heaved, coughing and spluttering all over my cock. I was sodden, feeling drips of phlegm cascade down my shaft and pool around my nuts.

She pulled back quickly, coughing with black tears streaking mascara and face paint down her alien cheeks. And even though my dick now hung cold and unsatisfied in the wind, I was kind of glad she withdrew before vomiting all over me.

Sniperess’ complete lack of gag-reflex was clearly not a common thing among Sangheili, and in that moment I couldn’t have been more proud of my alien girlfriend. At the same time I hoped I could at least get out of this so I could tell her so in person.

As Ossoona caught her breath, with long ribbons of sticky saliva dangling from her bottom mandibles, the girl was still giggling like a psycho.

“That’s a pity,” she breathed. “Oh, well. We can try and practice that some more later. For now, let’s just skip to the main event.”

Moving her dagger back up under my chin, she climbed aboard until I felt my sodden and slippery cock slip between the tight curves of her bare ass where she sank down on me. I couldn’t lie, that tight, tiny ass felt great and were my hands not frozen at my sides with fear I would have definitely copped a feel. The women I usually slept with had wide curvy hips, wider than my own. It was just the way women were built, and pretty much what attracted guys like me to them.

Ossoona as so slim, her hips were skinnier than mine. As she sat on top of me I really began to notice how slim she really was. She was such a skinny whip of a girl I was actually worried about splitting her in two. Bit of a unique concern, admittedly, that I’d never had in the past. 

Her eyes, wide and psychotic before, were now slightly narrowed and needy with desire. She rose up, balancing on her heels in a very deep squat. Her hand reached down to catch my cock and direct it to her opening with ease. The puffy wet lips spread open, as Ossoona’s jaws fell slightly ajar as if now finally realising our significant girth difference.

“Gods, its big. Will it fit?” she whispered, squatting a little deeper until the tip began to slightly spread opening the tight opening within her silky folds. “I’ve never had a male this big before.”

Given Sangheili males grew pretty big, just using Terp as an example, I highly doubted what she was telling the truth. Then again, she was a bit of a psycho. Maybe she was a loner too, with little else for company than a few small-dicked Prophet masters and her fingers.

Who knew? Maybe nobody ever would, because the way things were going, Ossoona was going to impale herself on my cock even if it killed her, then she’d slip or twitch, inadvertently slitting my throat before we all fell into the gas giant and were crushed into oblivion anyway.

First things first, I grabbed hold of her ankles and held on for dear life. My back lifted off the ground just a little as I fought the instinct to thrust up into that tight little hole. The last thing I wanted to do is surprise her into jamming that knife somewhere unsavoury. 

Ossoona kept moving at least. Her hips bucked back and forth as she bit by bit sank her hips down towards mine. The pressure kinked my cock into at least a comfortable shape as I felt her soft flesh yield for my invasion. Her tunnel widened, but only just enough for the wet flesh to hug my crown, almost pinching it.

It felt like she was trying for hours, but eventually she took the tip inside her and through her gritted teeth let out a long groan of effort. Taking a deep breath and holding it, she dug her prosthetic fingers into my chest plate, then slammed her hips down the rest of the way.

My eyes rolled. She was tighter than even Sniperess’ throat had ever clamped down on me, and she was hot as a furnace. Wet enough at least that I could glide into her, I felt resistance in the back of her tunnel, her tight cervix forcing its way down on the tip of my cock.

Ossoona’s head rolled back and her mouth opened in a scream. But what came out was an ecstatic cry on the border between pain and pleasure. There was no way she’d just impaled herself to the cervix without hurting herself, yet on some masochistic level she moaned with delight.

“Yes! That’s amazing. It’s so deep! I love it!” She started to ride, flexing her whole body in a back and forth motion, grinding her hips down around the base of my cock while her walls, which must have been stretched to breaking point, rippled up and down my length.

“Fuck,” was all I could wheeze out as Ossoona lifted herself up a few inches, then slammed herself back down. I couldn’t tell if the slippery fluids lubricating the motion was her natural excitement or if she was bleeding. It hardly mattered though, especially while that knife dug a little tighter against my chin.

Whimpering with what sounded like approval, Ossoona rode without much ceremony. She was balanced on her heels, squatting deeply so she could ride my length with the same violence she’d assaulted me with earlier. She lifted her ass up until just my crown lay nestled in her stretched little cunt, then slammed herself down, yelping as I assaulted her core.

Minutes passed as she rode. She only got wetter and wetter. Her cries grew higher in pitch until they were shuddering and she was stammering out sweet nothings in Sangheili that even Terp wouldn’t have been able to decipher.

Soon her hips slammed down on mine with a rapid-fire beat you could almost dance to. Her rhythm was undeterred by potential discomfort or fatigue. She just kept going like a fully charged machine programmed to suck my balls dry.

It was no wonder they said the crazy ones always fucked so good.

Ossoona squealed over the sound of her bionic fingertips scraping two thin lines of paint from my body armour, leaving a couple of slim silver lines glistening between the matte black paintjob. Just some more battle damage to add to the list. Except damage like this was a welcome change to getting shot up by plasma.

The Sanghieli at the same time was drooling all over me as her sopping pussy squelched with every deep squat that pressed her hips against mine. The passage of time became a wet, slippery blur, and her tight body rippled with joy each time she impaled herself to her inner-most depths. The way she was going at it, almost squirting with every thrust, her legs were bound to be burning and uncomfortable with effort.

An idea hit me with the same force of Ossoona’s cervix crashing into the head of my cock.

Mustering up my bravery, making sure not to move in the direction of the knife she was holding to me, I slid my hands up her sleek legs, over the curves of her armoured boots and along the sleek flesh of her thighs. One cupped under her firm ass, and she rocked her hips deeper into my touch as I helped her rise after every fall. The other moved up over her shapely waist, felt along her hard nipple poking through her suit then caressed up to her neck before cupping her face. She canted her head into my touch, nibbling lovingly at my palm between moans.

“You must be getting tired,” I panted as evenly as I could. “How about I get on top?”

Ossoona slowed as she stared down at me with genuine surprise. It was as if she’d never been offered anything nice by a man she’d fucked before. “You… you’d do that? For me?”

“Yeah. Sure. I’d love to make you feel even better,” I lied.

Giggling maniacally, Ossoona very suddenly slammed her hips down, yelping in the process, then grabbed me and rolled over. I came with her like a cartoonish ragdoll before flopping down on top of the Sangheili tomboy, cock still hilted in her burning cunt.

“Do it,” she whispered eagerly, keeping her thighs spread as far as they would go. Her knife had transferred back down to my ribs and her bionic fingers were clamped on the chin-portion of my helmet. Her steamy breath was fogging my visor as she started bucking her groin on mine impatiently with a needy whine. “Come on, Wolfe. Claim me. Make me yours.”

Setting my hands on the deck either side of her I got to work with the familiar motions that had reduced Sniperess into a drooling, moaning mess before. And my hips rolling to plunge into her wet pussy with smooth, loving thrusts had the same kind of effect on Ossoona.

The change in her was like a switch being thrown. The manic twitch in her large eyes vanished and the crimson disks slid up and into the back of her skull. Her mandibles splayed open with surprise and she let out a long “ooooohhh~!” of relief, like hours of painful torture had finally given away to a dopamine release. Her expression was blank, mind lost in the sensation of my cock very gently filling her to her core. The bumps of my crown against her cervix were much more gentle now, more like a soft little smooch rather than the ravenous crash she’d been inflicting on herself.

Ossoona was obviously falling into a much more genuine state of bliss. I realised she must have definitely been hurting herself a little with how hard she had been riding me. So why didn’t she stop and make herself comfortable? Or maybe she just didn’t know any better?

Oh, hell. She was a psycho, why was I bothering to try and understand her?

As I worked, the knife slipped from between my armoured plates and I heard it clatter to the deck over her excited moans. Her hand slid up my side now it was free of the blade and held on to me possessively. She also tightened her thighs around my sides and locked her ankles together. The moment to escape while she was in a stupor had passed and I was going to have to see this through.

Not that it was going to take very long. I could already feel the cum stirring in my balls, ready for release. And Ossoona could clearly feel me swelling inside her because she cried out happily.

“Yes! Do it. Breed me! Put your seed in me! I want your babies~!”

I scoffed internally, knowing full well that was impossible, but obliged all the same.

Sliding into her with metered discipline and control, I firmly pressed the tip of my cock into her centre and let her have it. She was so tight that her opening felt like it was pinching my member shut to stop me from cumming. But with a little bit of extra effort than I was used to I strained from my core and with every tight pulse of my member injected a long, warm stream of cum into Ossoona’s womb.

The slippery warmth filling her was what finally set her off too and she shook like she was having a seizure. She curled up against my front, crying out like she was being murdered. Except she was holding on to the murderer, shaking hard and squirting all over his cock. The warmth dripped down my balls in excess and I could feel my sodden, soaked with a mixture of sweat and Ossoona’s liquid happiness, cling uncomfortably to my skin.

Finally she went completely limp and her arms slumped to the deck beside her face. Her head rolled to one side, mandibles slack as she panted, steamy clouds puffing from her mouth with every breath.

That right there was my cue. So, without laying on her to enjoy the warm aftermath of orgasm, I rolled off the X, my cock slurping noisily out of her pussy as I went. Then scrambling to my feet, I dressed and ran at the same time.

Ossoona tried to say something, but in the surprise of being left suddenly empty, all that came out was a shuddering gasp. I was at the end of the corridor by the time she followed up.

A blade whistled through the air and slammed into the wall by my face, embedding a good inch into the steel panelling. I turned to see she was trying to get up, still leaking a mixture of cum and feminine sexual gratification. Only her legs buckled, and she landed flat out again.

“Darling, wait-…” she began to say, but I wasn’t listening.

Unarmed and unsure what kind of other options I had right then, I just ran, booking it back towards the airlock. And as I ran, I finally paid attention to my mission clock again. Between my investigating the Cornerian ship, scuffling with Ossoona then stiffly anticipating a stabbing as she rode me vigorously, my two hour window had dwindled down to mere minutes left on the clock.

As if sensing my concern, Evony’s voice jarred my hearing .“Sergeant Wolfe, this is the Betelgeuse. Point of no return is approaching and I’m in the envelope. What is your position?”

“Bounding to the insertion point! Be ready for fast extract!”

“Affirmative. You sound out of breath. What’s going on?”

“It’s complicated! Just open the airlock and keep the engines hot!”

In the airlock I didn’t even bother cycling it. I hit the emergency systems and blew the door off its hinges. My fatigues were hermetically sealed, the Cornerian crew were all dead and Ossoona… you know what? Fuck Ossoona!

The doors blew out into space and every cubic inch of air on board blew out in an instant, throwing me with it. Evony had put the Betelgeuse in the correct position at least. The frigate hung directly over me and a few moments later I slammed into the UNSC hull, hugging the plating with a desperation to not bounce off and go floating back out into space. 

Once I had arrested my short jaunt, I crawled hand over hand to the nearest airlock and idled in the door before cycling back into safety. I hung my head out to look back at the Cornerian ship one more time. There were still whisps of vapour and loose debris jetting from the breach I’d just blown in the alien hull. 

But there was no sign of Ossoona anywhere. At least, that I could see…



4
I finished leaving a heavily redacted report on the ship’s logs. Recording the part about there being a bounty on the Wolf of Verdun’s head seemed important enough to note, but no need to bother command with the sticky details of a horny assassin with a sexual obsession.

I would have liked to know more about this story series Ossoona had been talking about, but part of me was just too afraid to ask right now, so I put that query on the back-burner. By this time the Cornerian ship would have fallen into its point of no return, hopefully with Ossoona in it, so it wasn’t like any of her ramblings mattered in the end anyway

Still, I couldn’t help ask Evony for the eight time in an hour to double check her final sensor sweeps of the Cornerian ship as it pulled away.

“I assure you, Sergeant Wolfe, I didn’t pick up anything leaving the vessel. Except for you, of course.” The avatar she projected on the bridge console wore an expression that mimicked her bored, impatient tone.

“Are you absolutely sure?” I pressed. “We’re talking about an assassin who can turn invisible here. I have to be sure she didn’t follow me aboard the Betelgeuse.”

Even as I said it, I felt my hand fall on my sidearm. Over to one side of the bridge was a faint shimmering of air. The tell-tale shimmer of a Covenant cloaking device? Or just warm air flowing onto the bridge. I had turned up the heating for feeling just a little chilly. And if that shimmer were the former, surely Ossoona would have jumped me by now.

Or did she like to play with her food?

“Can you, like, do a life sign sweep across the ship?” I asked Evony. “Make sure it’s just three of us on board?”

Evony tutted impatiently. “What do you think this is, a sci-fi video game? We don’t have that kind of technology. But I do have a suite of motion sensors on board, and so far nothing unusual has shown up.”

“Covenant cloaking tech bypasses our motion sensors, doesn’t it?”

“You’re just being paranoid, Wolfe.”

Frowning I looked back to where the shimmer of hot air wafted out of the vent. “Yeah.”

There was no more shimmering air. No foreign muffled footsteps. Not the clink of a metal blade rasping from Ossoona’s belt. Everything was still, bar the hum of the ship’s engines careening us through slip-space.

“Yeah, maybe I am,” I added, desperately trying to convince myself.