Star Thrust ch. 5

First Contact

Hawke stood under the hot water and let it run over his shoulders. The shower in the captain's quarters was far better than anything he'd had on the Patriot. There were multiple jets, perfect pressure, temperature controls that actually worked… He could get used to this.

He'd left Darla on the bridge with instructions to monitor their course and report any anomalies or other vessels. The rest of the crew had been dismissed to their quarters for the evening. It was the established procedure for the first night after departure. You had to let everyone settle in, get comfortable with their new home.

Except nothing about this was normal.

Hawke leaned his head back and closed his eyes. What a crazy mission. What an absolutely insane turn his career had taken. A few days ago he'd been running data chips between administrative posts, and now he was the captain of his own science vessel with explicit orders to impregnate his bridge crew.

What the hell? And yet he was expected to act like this was business as usual. And, he supposed in a way, that’s exactly what it would be.

The Confederation had seemingly found the only attractive women in all of Star Force who were willing to participate in this experiment. Four. No, fifteen counting the maintenance and engine room crew. Sixteen, maybe, with the chief medical officer they had yet to pick up. What were the odds?

And they'd all agreed after reviewing his file. After studying his psychological profile, his biological data, his service record. What exactly had they seen that made them say yes? 

And what about them? What made each of them volunteer for something like this?

He knew their files by heart now. Galadria, the logical Vultarian who saw this as an important scientific mission. Shayden, the exiled Horukar warrior looking to prove herself worthy again. Darla, the charming Qarthi trying to escape her family's scandal. And Moxani, the shy Tribb who...

Actually, he wasn't entirely sure why Moxie had agreed to this. Her file suggested she was conflict-averse and easily intimidated. This mission required a level of intimacy that seemed completely at odds with her personality. Maybe there was more to her story than he understood yet.

Either way, a chirping tone interrupted his thoughts.

Hawke opened his eyes and looked at the shower wall. The communication panel was flashing. Someone was at his door.

He reached over and activated the panel. A small holographic image appeared, showing the corridor outside his quarters. Galadria stood there with her hands clasped behind her back, waiting patiently.

He pressed the comm button. "Commander. I'm in the shower at the moment. I'll be out shortly if you can wait. I was going to page you afterwards."

Her eyebrows both raised. "It seems the present situation is serendipitous, Captain. I have not yet showered this evening and was planning to use your quarters to freshen up before we engage in sexual intercourse. If you grant me entrance, we can conserve water and time by bathing together."

Hawke blinked water out of his eyes. Holy shit. She was really doing this. Right now.

He took a breath. "Uh. Yes. Granted. Come in, Commander."

The panel blinked off. A moment later he heard the door to his quarters open, then close. There were light footsteps, barely audible over the sound of his shower. The bathroom door opened and Galadria entered, still in her command uniform.

For the moment.

She looked at him through the transparent shower door, assessing him like a cut of meat. Sure enough, her eyes traveled down the length of his body, lingering pointedly on his groin. He was suddenly very aware that he was naked and she was fully clothed.

She cleared her throat before speaking. "Excellent. Captain, your penis appears to be more than adequate for the task at hand," she said, nodding once. "The length and girth both embody optimal parameters for Vultarian anatomy."

Adequate? She could have maybe gone with a stronger word, but okay.

"Thank you?" He wasn't sure how to respond to all this.

"Captain, I formally request permission to disrobe in your quarters and join you for sexual congress."

His penis engorged itself almost like a balloon. "Permission granted."

She began to undress with the same general attitude she applied to everything else. It was so prim, almost robotic to watch. First the uniform jacket came off, which she folded neatly and set on the counter. Then went the undershirt, revealing her pale skin and a simple gray bra that contrasted beautifully against her complexion. She was small but her proportions were striking. The bra came off next, and Hawke stared openly.

Good Lord. Her breasts were fuller than he'd expected, that was for sure. They were round and firm, with pale pink, nearly skin-toned nipples that were already hardening in the cooler air of the bathroom. She didn't seem self-conscious at all about his leering as she hastened to unfasten her pants.

The pants and underwear came off together, and she was fully naked. What an absolute gift for the eyes, he reflected. Her body was petite, almost delicate, with a narrow waist and smooth pale thighs. She was completely bare between her legs, which apparently was not a surprise. Vultarians didn’t grow body hair at all. As such, her skin was flawless, also unmarked by scars or blemishes.

She was breathtaking. She was beautiful. She was… hot, to borrow an old term. Another more vulgar way to phrase it: she was utterly fuckable.

Galadria opened the shower door and stepped inside. He took half a step back to make a little room for her, and adjusted his position. The water hit her immediately and she closed her eyes for a moment, tilting her head back to enjoy its heat, just as he hoped soon to enjoy hers. Her white-blonde hair darkened a shade as it got wet, plastering against her skull and neck.

When she opened her eyes again, they were still that impossible electric blue. She looked at him directly.

"Captain,” she began breathily. 

“Commander,” he replied. Shit, it was surprisingly arousing to call her by her rank in this situation. 

She stared into his eyes with the vacant expression she always wore, but there was something desperate behind it now. “Sir, I formally request that you attend to my body so that I release the natural pheromones that will trigger your serum to adapt to my procreational biology. According to my research, when dealing with a human male, it is most efficient to bring the female to orgasm first because some human men tend toward laziness and exhaustion after ejaculation."

He couldn’t stop himself from chuckling a little, but she thankfully took it in stride. "You’re asking me to make you cum now, and then fuck you afterwards. I can do that," Hawke said. His mouth was dry even with water running over him.

"Confirmed and understood. You may begin at your leisure."

She stood there, waiting for him, looking incredible while doing so. It’s funny, he thought, mystifying even, how Vultarians basically look like humans in almost every way—just more beautiful. More perfect. And that is how they present themselves, too. Perfect in thought, mind, and body.

But the thing about Vultarians is that they weren’t perfect, despite all the hype. They made mistakes. They miscalculated. They, apparently, lusted to the point of self-distraction. Here she was, naked, outwardly in control, sure, but inwardly? He didn’t know how he was so sure, but he believed that for all her talk of the mission’s importance, she needed him to ravage her right now.

 And ravage her he would. He closed the distance between them, acutely aware of the size difference, of course. She barely came up to his chest. She probably weighed half his bodyweight, maybe less. He reached out and put his hands on her slender waist. Her skin was warm. Warmer than warm. Warmer than he expected for damn sure. There’s that higher body temperature she'd mentioned, he thought.

His hands slid up her sides, treating himself to the curve of her waist, the lines her ribs formed under her skin. She watched him with piercing, neutral but unblinking, not letting him out of her sight. When his hands finally reached her breasts, she shuddered, biting her lip. It was slight, but given her usual demeanor, it was still the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

"Continue," she said.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he replied. He cupped her breasts, feeling their weight in his palms. They were nice. She was not the bustiest woman for her size he’d ever met, but that didn’t take anything away from the eroticism they were sharing. Her breasts were soft and yielding when he tested her with a teasing squeeze. She gave little reaction, but when his pinkies pressed into her pale nipples like little buttons, she bit her lip again and relaxed her brow.

Galadria grabbed his wrist, pressing his hand harder against her. "Everything you would do to a human woman, do with approximately fifty percent more strength and speed to me. Vultarian nerve endings are less sensitive than those of humans. You will not hurt me."

That was a little bump in the road. He worried about tiring himself, but he just nodded his understanding and got to work. He was never going to be caught dead lamenting that a woman told him to play with her boobs more. He squeezed them harder, as requested, kneading her flesh roughly, pinching her hard nipples between his knuckles. She let out a breathy sound that he was pretty sure counted as a moan.

“How’s that?” he asked, checking in.

"Exceptional. Captain, permission to speak freely?"

He nodded as he kissed her neck, and she wrapped her fingers in his hair and let out another sound.

“Captain, requesting that you use your mouth to suck my nipples.”

He pulled back from her neck and hoisted her up by the ass until her tits were at eye level. She made no audible reaction, but he felt her puff a sweet breath of air onto his face, maybe in surprise. “It shall be so.”

He bent his neck and took one of her nipples into his mouth. He sucked hard, using his tongue to circle the peaked flesh, even daring to nibble it between two teeth. Her hand came up to the back of his head, holding him there.

"Yessss," she said, definitely a moan this time, no mistaking it. He found that very interesting. “Your performance exceeds my highest expectations, Captain.”

“Happy to hear it, Number One,” he growled as he continued his privileged work. This was the best mission ever.

“Mmm,” she moaned again, rubbing her face against his cheek and inhaling. Was she smelling him? “This title you have selected for me is adequate. You may call me your Number One henceforth.”

He chuckled as he switched to the other nipple, sucking and licking while his hands continued to work her breasts. “On my first job after the academy, my captain called his second-in-command Number One, and I always liked it. I’m glad you don’t mind.” 

“Confirmed, I do not mind, Captain. It is a logical title because I am also the first crew member of the Bruce Campbell that you will have inseminated.” Her breathing was getting heavier. One of his hands slid down her stomach, over the smooth skin, heading lower. When he reached the junction of her thighs, she spread her legs slightly to give him access.

“Inseminated is not the sexiest word, Commander.”

“Apologies, Captain.”

Fuck. She was already wet. Very wet. Damp might be a better way to say it. And hot. The heat coming off her was intense, like touching someone with a fever, and that was not an exaggeration. He slid one finger along her slit, finding her entrance, then pushed inside.

She moaned. Loudly. “Ahhhhhhh!”

The sound startled him. Until this bit of cultural exchange started, he’d always assumed Vultarians would be quiet during sex, controlled and restrained like they were in all other things. But she was apparently the opposite. Her moan echoed in the shower, raw and unfiltered.

"More," she said, her voice breathier now. He’d never heard or even imagined a Vultarian being so ineloquent.

He obliged, of course, dutiful captain that he was, adding a second finger and pushing ever deeper into her clenching cavern. She was tight and incredibly hot inside. Her inner walls gripped his fingers like they never wanted him to leave, and she moaned again.

"Nyahhh! Excellent positioning, Captain,” she whined in his ear. That voice, so packed with intensity, almost didn’t sound like her. Where was this coming from?

He adjusted his hand, finding the small bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex. He rubbed in circles, firm and steady, feeling her hips grind to meet his efforts, rocking eagerly against his hand while ever more lewd moans rang out from her pretty lips.

"Nya-uhh! Faster," she hissed. "And continue the suckling!"

He went back to her breast with his mouth while his hand labored between her legs. The combination of sensations seemed to be working for her just like it would any human woman. Her moans grew louder, slowly but surely, and also much more frequent. Her hand tightened in his hair.

"Yes! Yes! Do not alter your approach, Captain!”

He kept going, maintaining the same rhythm, the same pressure as before. Her body was tensing, her thighs trembling. The heat coming off her was almost uncomfortable now, but he didn't stop. He couldn’t fathom wanting to stop.

This… this was his calling. This was why he joined Star Force, even if he didn’t know it at the time. The universe wanted him right here, with Vultarian thighs wrapped around his waist, his fingers tight in a velvety snatch, and his lips suckling from his first officer’s soft, pale breast.

"I am close," she announced, pressing her face into his shoulder. "Maintain current index finger pitch and yaw and increase velocity by thirty percent!"

He was supposed to be the one giving orders, but for some reason, he found himself allowing that one. In fact, he did exactly what she asked, speeding up his movements and going even harder. His wrist was getting sore, and for a moment it reminded him of his early days at the academy. 

But something was happening—something wonderful. Galadria’s breathing became ragged. Her hips moved faster. Her inner walls squeezed his fingers. And then she came.

“Ahhhhhh!!!” Her whole body went rigid. She cried out, loud and unrestrained, her voice bouncing off the bathroom walls. Her inner muscles doubled down, clamping down on his fingers so hard it almost hurt. She shook in his arms, and her legs fell away from around his back, limp.

He caught her and wrapped his free arm around her waist to hold her upright. She leaned into him, panting more like a dog than any Vultarian woman he’d ever met, her face pressed against his chest. He could feel her heart racing. And his.

After a moment, she pulled back and looked up at him. Pink tinged her cheeks. So Vultarians could blush.

"That was highly satisfactory, Captain," she said. “I am relieved to report that we possess superior sexual compatibility.”

He chuckled. "I'm glad. I was able to guess from the surprising amount of vocal cues, Number One.”

She nodded, maybe more an excuse to rub her cheek against his shoulder. "It is a common assumption among humans and other species that Vultarians are as quiet and reserved during sexual activity as they are in other situations," she continued, still catching her breath. "But the opposite is true. We tend to be very vocal as a whole, though exceptions exist. To us, cultural importance is placed on informing one's partner when their needs are being met and when they are not. Silence is considered rude and counterproductive during initial sexual encounters."

He bobbed his head from side to side as he considered it. "That makes sense."

"Your needs have not yet been met, Captain." The words sounded very pointed to him. Very leading.

He glanced over her shoulder and looked down. His erection poked through in a way that looked like she was using his dick as a seat in this position. "Not yet."

Her eyebrow raised. "As your first officer, it should be my responsibility to bring you to climax before all others—and more often."

He blinked and set her down. “If you say so, Number One.”

She bit her lip at the sound of her nickname and dropped to her knees, right there on the shower floor. “Captain, to be transparent, I intend to fellate your penis until such time as my gag reflex overwhelms my throat or I determine that I can no longer wait for vaginal sex to commence.”

Hawke's breath caught as she took him in hand. Her grip was firm as she stroked him once from base to tip. Then she leaned forward and took him into her mouth.

Her mouth was as hot as the rest of her, maybe hotter. She worked him like it was the entirety of her job, like it was the one thing in the universe that mattered, taking him deep and using her tongue in ways that suggested she'd studied human anatomy very carefully. His eyes almost rolled back when his tip first stabbed into her throat.

"Galadria," he managed, grunting it out, but he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say beyond that. “You don’t need to do this, you know,” he settled on. “I could have sex with you right now.”

She pulled off long enough to speak. "I am aware. I am choosing to do this because it is logical and reasonable to reciprocate for the climax you already gave me. I believe that doing this before vaginal intercourse will enable you to ejaculate with not only additional pleasure but also a greater volume of semen, ensuring that I am filled as completely as possible. The more genetic material we share, the more efficiently your serum will adapt. Also, your body’s aesthetics are affecting me in ways that make me wish to submit to you." Then she went back to work.

He put one hand on the shower wall to hold on for dear life. She was good at this. Really good. Her head bobbed in a hypnotizing rhythm, and she used her hand to stroke what she couldn't fit in her mouth. The combination was almost too much.

She looked up at him while she did it, too, probably looking for the cue that he was getting too close to blowing. In any case, her blue eyes locked on his face. It was intense and intimate in a way he hadn't expected.

After a few minutes, she finally pulled off at exactly the right time. "Captain, I believe you are ready for penetrative intercourse, and I prefer not to wait any longer to experience the sensation of your penis inside me." She stood up. "Requesting permission to be bred by you."

“Wha—uh—Permission granted?”

She turned around and braced her hands against the shower wall, bending forward slightly and arching her back. The curve of her ass and the view of her from behind made his jaw drop and a bit of drool drip down his chin.

Still, instinct took over and he positioned himself behind her, tapping her entrance with the tip of his cock. "You're sure about this? It’s a big step and not one to be taken lightly."

She looked back over her shoulder, one brow arched higher than he’d ever seen it. "Please proceed, Captain."

He guided himself back to her entrance and pushed forward—and inside. Fuck. She was incredibly tight, and so fucking wet after her orgasm. The heat was unreal. Plus, the size difference between them made it interesting, but also challenging, and he had to go slow. “How’s that feeling, Number One?” he asked. “It’s a bit tight for me.”

Her fingers flexed against the tile. "As expected, Captain, it is indeed a difficult fit, but the additional pressure imposed by your immensity translates to more pleasure for me. In fact, I dare say you may use more force."

“Make it so.” He gripped her hips and pushed deeper. She let out a long, low moan that echoed off the walls, and he immediately knew that she made the right call. The heat of her was almost overwhelming, though. She was so hot inside, tight and slick and gripping him like a vice, it almost made him want to pull out. But it was like sitting in a sauna that was just a bit too warm; the longer he endured it, the better it felt.

He continued to move, pulling back and pushing forward at a steady pace. Each thrust drew another sound from her. She was loud, just like she'd warned him. Moaning and gasping and occasionally praising him or giving instructions.

"Yes, Captain! Maintain that angle of approach, but harder!"

He picked up the pace, driving into her with more force, more fervor. The water was still running over them, steam filling the shower. His hands were tight on her hips, pulling her back to meet each thrust with loud, visceral slaps of fleshy impact. She was pushing back against him too, meeting him stroke for stroke.

Her voice went higher, breathier. "Captain, I regret to inform you I am going to climax again. Nyaaah!"

He kept the same rhythm, pounding into her while she cried out. Her second orgasm hit even harder. She went rigid again, her inner walls clenching around him so tight he thought he might lose it right there.

But he held on, kept moving through her climax until she relaxed slightly. Then he let himself go, chasing his own release more eagerly, knowing he’d done what a man should do for his partner. His orgasm built fast, and when that coiling tension hit his lower back and balls, he buried himself deep and erupted.

For a long moment, they just stood there, both breathing hard. The water continued to run over them, washing everything away but the act itself.

Eventually, he pulled out and stepped back. Galadria straightened and turned to face him. She looked calm, neutral, but her eyes looked…tired? Relaxed?

"That was highly productive, Captain,” she said, “I believe we have successfully initiated the serum's adaptive process,"

He rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. "Good to know."

She opened the shower door and stepped out, grabbing a towel. He watched her dry off with a sort of detached awe. He fucked her. A Vultarian. A very, very beautiful Vultarian. And she enjoyed it immensely. How lucky was he?

When she was done, she turned to him.

"Captain, may I remain unclothed until I depart?"

He was still in the shower, starting to wash himself properly once again. "Oh. Are you staying?"

Her eyebrow twitched. So that was probably a fuck-up on his part. "In Vultarian society, mutual aftercare is an important post-coital ritual. Typically, a bonded pair will embrace while still nude, which facilitates a strong emotional link through skin contact. I will attempt to control my telepathic abilities if you wish, but the effect will still be intense." She paused. "For many Vultarians, this ritual is more enjoyable than the sexual act itself, assuming they are with a mentally compatible partner."

He shut off the water and grabbed his own towel. "Of course you can stay Number One."

She bit her lip again. That was interesting.

Hawke dried himself quickly while she waited. When he was done, she moved closer. There was something almost awkward in the way she approached, like she wasn't entirely sure how to do this part.

She put her arms around him, pressing her smaller body against his much larger one. Her skin was still warm, still giving off that residual heat. She tucked her head under his chin and just held on.

He wrapped his arms around her, one hand on her back and the other in her damp hair. The moment he did, images flashed through his mind.

Not his memories. Hers. He saw himself from her perspective, in the shower, touching her. He saw the moment she'd climaxed, felt an echo of the pleasure she'd experienced. It was cloudy and dreamlike but unmistakably real.

She was thinking about what they'd just done. And from what he could sense, she was happy about it.

The emotional sensation was stronger than the images. Satisfaction. Contentment. A kind of warm, fuzzy, comfortable feeling that reminded him of lying in the sun on a perfect day.

"This would be more comfortable in my bed," he said quietly.

"Of course, sir."

He picked her up, which made her stiffen in surprise. She was lighter than he expected, easy to carry, but apparently she hadn’t been anticipating it.

"That is illogical," she said as he walked toward the bed. "I am capable of ambulating under my own power."

"I know."

"Then why—" She stopped herself, and it seemed obvious to him that she was remembering something. "This is a human male romantic ritual. Carrying one's partner to bed, or carrying in general, is meant to convey the male’s strength and willingness to protect and care for his partner. I apologize. I should have anticipated that behavior."

He chuckled. "Don't apologize. And don’t read too much into it. Just relax."

He set her down on the bed and lay beside her. She climbed on top of him, settling her body directly over his. Her head rested on his chest, and her legs tangled with his. It was full-contact, every inch of her skin touching him that possibly could.

The telepathic connection intensified, whether she meant for it to or not. It seemed to him that she was sharing a lot but taking nothing, which was interesting to say the least. He got more images, more feelings. He saw flashes of her life. Her childhood on Vultar. Her time at Star Force Academy’s satellite program on Vultar. He saw a moment where she'd stood alone on an observation deck, watching a ship explode in the distance.

But mostly he felt her contentment. He felt her satisfaction with how things had gone with him. And underneath that, a curiosity about him. Maybe… blooming feelings? Or a bond? 

They lay like that for a long time. The images eventually faded and became less frequent and much more distant. The emotional sensations mellowed into a warm but foggy blur.

Finally, she spoke. "Captain, would you like me to dress myself and return to my quarters?"

He ran his hand down her back, resting it on the curve of her ass. "To be honest, I don't mind this. But you should probably get some rest in your own bed."

"I must express my honest distaste toward the idea of departing." She didn't move yet. "Yet I must confess, if I remain much longer, I will almost certainly attempt to coax you into sexual activity several more times. This may indeed limit the effectiveness of our sleep hours and compromise our ability to handle our bridge duties tomorrow."

He chuckled. "Probably best to avoid that."

She sat up slowly and reluctantly. The loss of full contact broke the telepathic connection immediately. Without it, something was missing. He sort of wanted it back.

She climbed off the bed and started gathering her clothes from the bathroom. He watched her dress, watched her brush her hair with his comb, watched her straighten up to her full, unimpressive height at the sight of her own reflection. Her uniform was back on, but her hair was still damp, even if neat. When she was done, she looked like his first officer again, and not the woman he’d just wildly fucked for the last hour. 

She paused at the door. "Thank you for hosting our encounter in your quarters, Captain. That was a highly satisfactory sexual experience. I look forward to our session tomorrow."

He chuckled. "You’re going to dry me out at this rate, Commander. Goodnight."

She stared at him a bit longer in silence. 

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, not sure what to make of her failure to reply.

"Nothing is wrong. I do not wish to state the reason for my hesitation to leave. It is embarrassing. I will depart now. Goodnight, Captain."

The door slid shut behind her, and he was alone.

Hawke lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. His body was pleasantly tired, but it might not feel so pleasant in the morning. He was looking forward to having a chief medical officer to help him condition his body for this kind of regular exertion. 

The sex had been incredible. The telepathic connection had been unexpectedly intimate, too. And Lieutenant Commander Galadria Rem, for all her clinical language and logical approaches to everything, had been an enthusiastic and responsive partner. And cute.

This mission wasn't such a bad assignment after all.