DevotedSub's Taboo Collection

Claimed Among the Stars

Vol. 4

Eleven sci-fi seductions

Abducted Mate

Content note: adult alien abduction erotica — consensual-adult mating fantasy. All characters are adults.

# [ALIEN] Abducted Mate

Mamacita was thirty years old, camping alone in the West Texas desert because she liked the quiet and she liked being the kind of woman who didn't need anyone else's permission to disappear for a weekend.

She had her tent pitched in a flat wash between two ridges, a little fire going, a cooler of food, and the whole black bowl of the sky poured over her head like somebody had tipped it out just for her. She'd been sitting with her boots off and her feet toward the fire for maybe an hour, watching the Milky Way burn, when the stars started moving wrong.

Not twinkling. Moving. A hole of perfect blackness slid across the sky, blotting out whole constellations as it came, and then the hole lit up from the inside — a ring of violet light blooming open like an eye.

Her heart slammed into her ribs. She scrambled up, firelight catching her bare feet, and her mouth went dry. It wasn't a plane. It wasn't anything she had a word for. It was a ship, vast and silent, hanging over the desert like a held breath, and a pillar of pale blue light dropped out of its belly and speared straight down into the wash fifty feet from her tent.

The light hit the sand and the sand sang.

She ran. Of course she ran — she was thirty, not stupid — but her legs were bare under her sleep shorts and the desert was all rock and thorn, and three steps in the light bent sideways like water and wrapped around her waist and lifted her clean off the ground.

Mamacita screamed. The sound went nowhere. The beam carried her up through the night air, her hair whipping, her tank top riding up, sand falling off her skin in glittering streams, and the ship's belly opened like a mouth and swallowed her whole.

Darkness. A hum she felt in her teeth. Then gravity again, gentle, setting her down on a floor that was warm and gave slightly under her bare feet like living skin.

Light rose around her — soft, amber, pulsing — and she was in a round chamber with no doors she could see, walls that breathed slow as a sleeping animal. And she was not alone.

He was standing ten feet away, watching her.

He looked like a man the way a panther looks like a housecat. Seven feet tall, built like a weapon, skin a deep bronze-black with veins of molten gold crawling under it that pulsed with his heartbeat. His hair was black and fell to his shoulders in thick ropes. His eyes were solid gold, no whites, and they didn't blink enough. He wore something dark and close-fitting that left his arms and throat bare, marked with geometric scars that glowed faintly. He looked early thirties, if you had to put a human age on something that clearly wasn't human — a commander in his prime, and he carried himself like the room belonged to him.

Which, she realized with a lurch, it did.

"Female," he said, and his voice was deep enough to rattle her sternum. He spoke English with an accent like distant thunder. "Human. Thirty years. Alone." His nostrils flared, and something in his gold eyes went molten. "You smell like heat and smoke and wanting."

"I — this is a mistake, I — put me back," Mamacita said, backing up until the breathing wall pressed against her spine. "I have people. People will look for me."

"No one will find you," he said, and crossed the floor toward her in three long strides. He stopped close enough that she could feel the heat coming off his skin in waves. He was so much bigger than her. Her head barely reached his chest. "My scanners have watched your world for nine cycles. I came for one thing. A mate."

"I'm not — you can't just take —"

"I can." He lifted one hand and cupped her jaw, his fingers impossibly gentle for their size, thumb pressing into the corner of her mouth. "I am Papicito, war-commander of the Vessel of Thorns, and by the law of my people what I claim is mine. You were alone under an open sky. That is the old signal. That is consent enough for the taking."

"That's not —" Her protest died because his thumb slid inside her mouth and pressed down on her tongue, and his taste hit her — copper and ozone and something sweet underneath — and her whole body lit up like the fire had jumped inside her skin.

He felt it. His eyes flared brighter. "Your body already knows, mamacita."

"Don't call me that."

"I will call you whatever I please. You are mine now." He took her wrist in one hand — his fingers wrapped it completely — and turned toward the wall. At his thought, or his command, the wall split open into a corridor of amber light. "Come, little human. Let me show you what you were taken for."

She dug her heels in. He didn't even slow. He just dragged her along behind him like she weighed nothing, her bare feet slipping on the warm living floor, her heart hammering so hard she could hear it in her ears. Part of her was terrified. A bigger part — the part she would never have admitted to anyone back on Earth — was soaking wet.

The corridor opened into a chamber that took her breath away. It was a dome of perfect darkness on the far side of a curved transparent wall, and beyond it hung the Earth — blue and white and impossibly beautiful, the desert somewhere down there still holding her tent and her cold fire. The chamber itself was dominated by a low platform bed that looked grown rather than built, its surface a dark, slick membrane that pulsed faintly.

Papicito turned to face her. "Strip."

"What?"

"Strip. I want to see what is mine." His voice dropped lower, a command wrapped in silk. "Do it slowly, mamacita. Give me a show, or I will tear them off you. Your choice."

Her hands were shaking. She pulled her tank top over her head and let it fall. Her sleep shorts followed, then her underwear, until she stood naked in the amber light with her arms trying to cover herself and failing.

Papicito circled her slowly, gold eyes drinking her in — her breasts, heavy and bare, her nipples already hard in the cool ship air, the curve of her belly, her thighs pressed tight together. He stopped behind her. She felt his breath on the back of her neck, and then his tongue touched her.

It wasn't a human tongue. It was long — impossibly long — and it unspooled from his mouth like a ribbon, hot and wet, and licked a slow stripe from the base of her spine all the way up to her hairline. She gasped and arched, her whole body breaking out in gooseflesh.

"Prehensile," he murmured against her skin, and the tongue wrapped around her throat, gentle, possessive, tasting her pulse. "I can put it anywhere, mamacita. Inside anywhere. Remember that."

He came around to face her and went to his knees in front of her. She stared down at him — this seven-foot alien commander kneeling at her feet — and then his hands gripped her thighs and spread them, and his tongue found her pussy.

She cried out. The tongue was hot and broad and it licked her in one long stroke from her entrance to her clit, and then the tip split — actually split — into two thinner tendrils, and one slid inside her while the other wrapped around her clit and squeezed in a slow, pulsing rhythm.

"Oh — oh god — papi —" The word fell out of her mouth unbidden.

His eyes flicked up to hers, burning. "Again."

"P-papi—"

"Good girl." The tendril inside her thickened, stretched her, curled up against a spot that made her knees buckle. The one on her clit pulsed faster. "You taste like starlight and sin, mamacita. Sweet. Ripe. Made to be bred by something bigger than your world."

She came hard, her thighs clamping around his head, her fingers tangling in his black rope-hair, a ragged cry tearing out of her. He didn't stop. The tongue kept working her through it, tendril stroking her inner walls, the clit-tendril squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing, until she was sobbing and shaking and coming a second time, wetter, messier, her juices running down her thighs and dripping onto the living floor, which drank them with a pleased shiver.

He rose, his mouth and chin glistening with her, and licked his lips clean with that impossible tongue. "That was the tasting," he said. "Now the claiming."

He unfastened the dark material at his hips and let it fall.

Mamacita's breath stopped.

He had two cocks. The primary one jutted thick and heavy from his groin, as thick as her wrist and longer than her forearm, the shaft ridged with spiraling nubs of dark gold chitin that caught the amber light, the head flared and broad and already leaking thick pearlescent pre-come in slow ropes. Beneath it hung a secondary shaft — thinner, longer, more flexible, glistening wet and restless, curling in the air like it was reaching for her. At the base of the primary, a heavy knot was already swelling, pulsing with his heartbeat. His balls hung low and veined, glowing faintly gold with heat.

"On your knees, devoted sub," Papicito commanded. "Open that mouth wide. My mate learns my taste before she takes my seed."

Her knees hit the warm floor before she'd decided to move. She opened her mouth wide, tongue out, and he stepped in close, gripped a fistful of her hair, and fed her the flared head of his primary cock. It was furnace-hot and huge — her lips stretched wide around it — and the pre-come flooded her tongue in thick, sweet, electric ropes that tasted like lightning and musk and made her pussy throb with every swallow.

"That's it, mamacita. Take your papi's cock like a good little mate." He pushed deeper, the ridged chitin dragging along her tongue and the roof of her mouth, each nub scraping sparks of sensation down her spine. The secondary shaft slithered against her cheek, her jaw, smearing hot pre-come across her face. "Deeper. Swallow me. Choke on it."

She gagged, drooled, tears sliding down her cheeks, and he held her head steady and fucked her throat in slow, brutal strokes, the knot at his base slapping wet against her chin, his secondary cock painting her breasts and throat with glowing seed. Her pussy clenched on nothing, soaking, dripping onto the floor between her knees.

He pulled out with a wet pop, strings of pre-come bridging his cockhead to her swollen lips. "On the bed. On your back. Legs open. Show your papi what's his."

She scrambled onto the platform, the slick membrane warm and giving under her back, and spread her legs wide. He stood over her, massive, both cocks hard and leaking, gold eyes raking her open body.

"Look at you," he growled. "Thirty years old and dripping like a girl in her first heat. This —" he dragged two fingers through her soaked folds, making her whimper, "— this is mine. Say it."

"It's yours, papi," she breathed.

"Louder. Who does this pussy belong to?"

"It belongs to you, papi! It's yours!"

"Good girl." He positioned the flared head of his primary cock at her entrance, huge and hot and ridged. "Breathe, mamacita. This is going to stretch you."

He pushed in.

The flared head breached her and Mamacita screamed — a raw, shocked sound that echoed off the dome. He was so big, so impossibly thick, and the ridged chitin nubs dragged along her inner walls like fingers of fire, stretching her open inch by grinding inch.

"Shhh," Papicito soothed, even as he kept pushing, his gold eyes locked on her face, drinking in every grimace of pleasure-pain. "Take it, mamacita. Take your papi's cock. Your little human pussy was made to be ruined by me."

He bottomed out with a final brutal thrust that slammed his hips against hers, the swollen knot pressing hard against her entrance, his heavy balls slapping her ass. She was stuffed impossibly full, stretched around his girth until she could feel every ridge, every pulse of his alien heartbeat through the shaft buried inside her.

"Oh god — papi — too big —"

"Too big is what you get," he growled, and drew back slowly, letting every chitin nub scrape back over her raw nerves, then slammed home again. "Too big is what you begged for with every drop you leaked on my tongue. Say thank you."

"Th-thank you, papi," she gasped, her nails clawing at the slick membrane of the bed.

"Thank your domdaddy properly." He set a punishing rhythm — deep, driving strokes that rocked the whole platform, his knot battering her clit on every thrust. The secondary shaft, restless and seeking, slithered up between them and found her clit on its own, wrapping around the swollen bud and pulsing in time with his thrusts. "That's it. Look at you taking it. My good little mate. My devoted sub, spread open and stuffed full of alien cock."

She came screaming, her pussy clamping down on him like a fist, and he groaned, his rhythm faltering for half a stroke — then he was pounding harder, fucking her through it, the ridges lighting up nerves she hadn't known existed.

"More," he commanded. "Give me more. Come on my cock again, mamacita. Now."

The order went through her like a brand and she obeyed, shattering a second time, sobbing his name. And then his hands were on her throat — not squeezing, just holding, possessive — and he bent down over her, his black rope-hair falling around her face, and his mouth found the curve where her neck met her shoulder.

His teeth sank in.

It wasn't a human bite. Heat poured from the punctures like liquid fire, spreading through her veins, pooling low in her belly, and her whole body convulsed. Her pussy spasmed around his cock in rhythmic waves and she felt something unlock inside her — a fever blooming under her skin, her nipples tightening to aching points, her clit throbbing with every heartbeat.

"There," Papicito rumbled against her bleeding skin, licking the wound closed with his long tongue. "The claiming mark. My venom is in you now, mamacita. It will keep you wet. It will keep you wanting. It will keep you mine."

He pulled back and looked down at her — flushed, marked, impaled — and his expression was pure triumph. "Now I'm going to fill you."

He grabbed her hips, lifted her ass off the bed, and fucked her like an animal — short, brutal, pile-driving strokes, his knot slapping her clit, his balls hammering her. The bed's membrane slicked beneath her with her juices. His secondary shaft wrapped around her throat gently, possessively, pulsing with his rhythm.

"Take it — take all of it —" His thrusts grew erratic, his gold eyes blazing. "Come with me, mate. Come when your papi comes."

She felt his cock swell inside her — impossibly thicker — and then he roared and erupted. It wasn't like human come. It was a flood, hot and thick and seemingly endless, pearlescent gold, pulsing out of him in heavy jets that filled her to overflowing and then kept coming, spilling out around his shaft, running down her ass, pooling on the bed beneath her. The heat of it inside her triggered another orgasm that tore through her like a storm, and she screamed his name until her voice broke.

"Papi! Papi, oh god, I'm — I'm coming —"

He stayed buried in her through the aftershocks, grinding slowly, working every last drop out of himself into her, his secondary shaft still wrapped around her throat like a collar. When he finally pulled out, his seed poured out of her in a thick golden stream, splashing onto the bed, and the living membrane drank it with a deep, satisfied shudder that vibrated through the whole chamber.

Papicito looked down at the mess — her stretched, leaking pussy, his glowing seed everywhere — and smiled, slow and wicked. "Beautiful. My mate, marked and filled." He scooped two fingers through the seed pooling between her thighs and pushed them into her mouth. "Taste us. Taste what we are now."

She sucked his fingers clean, tasting salt and lightning and herself, and whimpered.

"The venom is working already," he observed, watching her thighs press together, watching the fresh wetness gleam. "Your heat is rising, mamacita. By the next cycle you'll be begging me to breed you." He lifted her effortlessly into his arms, cradling her against his massive chest like she weighed nothing. "Come. The claiming chamber is waiting, and I am not nearly done with you."

He carried her naked and dripping through the amber corridors, her claiming bite throbbing on her neck, his seed still leaking down her thighs with every step. The ship hummed around them, the walls pulsing faster, and she realized with a dizzy lurch that the whole vessel could smell her — could smell them — and it was hungry for more.

The claiming chamber was vast and dim, lit by veins of violet light in the living walls. In the center stood a frame of dark grown-bone, curved like ribs, with restraints of warm, flexible tendrils hanging from it.

Papicito set her on her feet and turned her to face the frame. "Hands up, mamacita."

The tendrils came alive at his gesture, winding around her wrists, lifting her arms above her head, spreading her legs wide. She hung suspended, naked, marked, dripping, utterly helpless — and the helplessness sent a fresh flood of wetness down her thighs.

"Look at you," Papicito said, circling her slowly, his gold eyes dark with hunger. "Strung up like an offering. This is what you are now, little human. My offering. My mate. My devoted little breeder." He stopped in front of her and gripped her chin, tilting her face up. "Tell me what you are."

"I'm your mate," she whispered.

"Louder. Tell the ship. It wants to hear."

"I'm your mate!" she cried. "I'm yours, papi! Your devoted sub!"

The chamber's walls pulsed brighter, and a low harmonic hum rolled through the floor, through her bones. The ship was listening. The ship approved.

"Good girl." He stepped behind her, and she felt his massive hands spread her ass cheeks wide. His long tongue unspooled and licked a broad, hot stripe from her dripping pussy all the way up over her tight back hole, and she moaned, straining against the tendrils.

"Papi, please—"

"Please what?" His tongue circled her back entrance, teasing, pressing just barely inside. "Tell your domdaddy exactly what you want, mamacita. Use your words."

"Please — please fuck me — I need you inside me, papi, I need your cock, please—"

"Where?" The tongue-tip pushed a fraction deeper into her ass, and she keened. "Tell me where, little mate."

"Everywhere!" she sobbed. "My pussy, my ass — everywhere, papi, please, I'm so empty, I need you—"

He growled, low and pleased, and positioned himself behind her. She felt the flared head of his primary cock press against her back hole — huge, hot, ridged — and her whole body tensed.

"Breathe," he commanded. "Your papi will make it fit. He always makes it fit."

He pushed in slowly, inexorably, the flared head breaching her tight ring with a burning stretch that made her scream. The chitin ridges dragged along nerves that had never been touched, and the sensation was so intense she couldn't tell pain from pleasure — it was just fire, just him, just too much and not enough.

"That's my good girl," Papicito groaned, sinking deeper, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. "Taking my cock in that tight little ass like you were made for it. You were. I had the ship scan you while you slept in my light. Every hole you have is mine now."

He was fully buried in her ass, his knot pressed against her entrance, his balls heavy against her pussy — and then his secondary shaft, clever and seeking, slid up and pushed into her dripping pussy from below, filling her there too.

Mamacita screamed. She was completely filled — primary cock stretching her ass, secondary shaft working her pussy, both moving in a devastating counter-rhythm that lit up her entire body like a circuit.

"Yes — yes — oh god, papi —"

"Who's your domdaddy?" he roared, pounding into her ass, the secondary shaft drilling her pussy.

"You are! You're my domdaddy, papi!"

"And who does this body belong to?"

"You! I belong to you!"

He fucked her harder, the frame creaking, the tendrils holding her steady as he used her like she was his personal toy — because she was. His tongue joined in, the long ribbon snaking around her body to wrap around her clit, pulsing and squeezing in time with his thrusts.

She came so hard she blacked out for a second — just a white-hot blank — and came back to herself still coming, still screaming, her whole body convulsing in the tendrils. And he didn't stop. He fucked her through it and into the next one, his rhythm brutal and relentless.

"Come for your papi," he commanded. "Come on my cocks like the good little breeder you are. Come — now."

She obeyed, shattering again, and this time he let go with her — roaring, his primary cock swelling impossibly thick inside her ass as he erupted, jet after jet of molten gold seed flooding her back channel, while his secondary shaft pulsed inside her pussy, leaking glowing pre-come in thick ropes. His seed overflowed, running down her thighs, dripping onto the chamber floor, and the living ship drank it with a deep, rolling shudder of pleasure that shook the whole room.

Papicito stayed buried in her, both shafts, his chest heaving against her back, his arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her up as the tendrils released her wrists and she sagged against him, boneless.

"Mine," he rumbled into her hair, licking the claiming bite on her neck. "My marked, filled, dripping little mate." He turned her in his arms and kissed her — deep, possessive, his tongue stroking hers, letting her taste herself and him together. "Rest now. The heat will peak soon, and when it does, I'm going to breed you until you can't remember your own name."

He carried her back to the dome chamber and laid her on the platform bed, curling his massive body around her. She fell asleep with his seed still leaking out of her, his claiming bite throbbing on her neck, his arm like an iron band around her waist — and she dreamed of gold eyes and starlight.

She woke burning.

It started low in her belly — a deep, insistent ache — and spread like wildfire through her veins. Her skin was flushed, her nipples hard and aching, her pussy soaked and clenching on emptiness. The claiming venom had done its work. Her mating heat was peaking.

Papicito was awake, watching her, gold eyes molten. "There she is," he murmured. "My little human in full heat." He inhaled deeply, and a shudder ran through his huge frame. "You smell incredible, mamacita. Like you need to be bred. Like you'll die if you're not filled."

"I will," she whimpered, writhing on the bed, pressing her thighs together for friction that wasn't enough. "Papi, please — I need you — I need your cock inside me right now—"

He moved over her, massive and blazing hot, both shafts hard and leaking. "Beg properly, devoted sub. On your knees."

She scrambled to her knees on the bed, facing him, her whole body trembling with need. "Please, papi — please fuck me — please fill me with your seed — I'm your mate, I'm yours, please breed me, domdaddy, please—"

"Good girl." He gripped her hips and flipped her onto her hands and knees in one smooth motion, presenting her to him. "Now take it like the animal you are."

He drove his primary cock into her pussy in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the knot, and she screamed with relief and overstimulation all at once. The ridges dragged fire along her swollen walls, the knot battered her clit, and the heat in her veins surged higher with every stroke.

He fucked her like a beast — hard, deep, relentless — one hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks. His secondary shaft slithered beneath them and pushed into her ass, stretching her back hole open and drilling in counter-rhythm.

"Look at Earth," he commanded, and the dome above them cleared to show the blue-white planet hanging in the black. "Look at your world while your alien papi breeds you like livestock. This is what you are now, mamacita. My broodmare. My little human fucktoy. And you love it."

"I love it!" she screamed, staring up at the Earth while he pounded her. "I love your cock, papi! Breed me! Fill me!"

"Come for me," he roared. "Come on your domdaddy's cock!"

She came violently, her pussy strangling his shaft, and he erupted inside her with a bellow — a massive, endless flood of molten seed that filled her to bursting and overflowed in golden streams down her thighs. The heat of it inside her set off a second orgasm that left her sobbing into the bed membrane.

But he wasn't done. He pulled out of her pussy — seed pouring out of her in a thick stream — and dragged her to the curved transparent wall of the dome. He pressed her front against it, the surface cool against her burning nipples, the Earth huge beyond the barrier, and spread her legs wide.

"Hands on the wall, mamacita. Don't move."

He took her standing, bent over, her palms flat against the transparent dome, her breasts smashed against it, and drove back into her soaked pussy from behind. The angle was devastating — every thrust ground his ridged shaft against her front wall, his knot slapping her clit, his secondary shaft wrapping around her thigh and pulsing against her.

"Fuck — papi — so deep —"

"Deeper," he growled, and pushed harder, his hips hammering against her ass. "I'm going to fuck you until my knot locks inside you, mamacita. Until you're sealed around my cock, full of my seed, and you can't get away even if you wanted to."

"You don't — ah — you don't have to lock me in, papi," she gasped, delirious with pleasure. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm yours. I'm staying."

"We'll see," he said darkly, and fucked her harder.

His tongue unspooled and wrapped around her throat from behind, gentle and possessive, pulsing with his thrusts. She was surrounded by him — his cock in her pussy, his shaft against her thigh, his tongue around her throat, his hands bruising her hips, his heat covering her back.

She came again, screaming, her legs giving out — but he held her up effortlessly, pinning her against the wall with his body, and kept pounding. "Again," he commanded. "Give your papi another one. Now."

Her body obeyed before her mind caught up, convulsing around him in another brutal climax, and this time he came with her — his knot swelling suddenly, massively, locking against her entrance as he erupted, sealing his cock inside her. Jet after jet of golden seed flooded her, with nowhere to go, filling her until her belly bulged slightly and she could feel it sloshing inside her.

"Oh — oh god — papi — so full —"

"That's my seed, mamacita," he rumbled, grinding slowly, working himself deeper against the lock, his secondary shaft still wrapped around her thigh, leaking. "My seed, in my mate, in my claimed little breeder. The ship can feel it. Can you feel it?"

She could. The whole vessel was humming — a deep, resonant frequency that vibrated through the wall, through her bones, through the cock locked inside her. The living ship was sharing their pleasure, feeding on it, amplifying it.

They stayed locked together against the dome, her impaled and overflowing, him growling softly into her neck, licking her claiming bite, until his knot finally eased and he slipped free with a wet, obscene sound. His seed gushed out of her in a golden flood, splashing down her legs, pooling on the chamber floor — and the ship drank it with a shudder of pure ecstasy that shook the deck.

Papicito turned her around, backed her against the wall, and dropped to his knees in front of her.

"My turn to taste," he said, and buried his face between her thighs.

His tongue went to work — the broad ribbon licking her swollen folds, the split tendrils sliding into her still-leaking pussy, stroking her seed-filled walls, while another tendril wrapped her clit and pulsed. He ate her like a starving man, groaning into her, his hands gripping her ass and holding her open, his tongue fucking her deeper and deeper until she was screaming and coming on his face, grinding her soaked pussy against his mouth.

"That's it, mamacita," he growled against her clit, the vibration tearing another orgasm out of her. "Come on your papi's tongue. Give me everything."

She came three more times under his mouth, sobbing, her legs shaking, held up only by his hands — and then he stood, his chin and chest glistening with her juices and his own seed, and kissed her hard, forcing her to taste the whole filthy mix of them.

"Now you," he said, stepping back, both cocks hard again — impossibly, already hard again, leaking. "On your knees, devoted sub. Worship your domdaddy's cocks. Both of them."

She knelt, dizzy with heat and pleasure, and took the flared head of his primary cock into her mouth — stretching her lips wide, taking him deep, the ridges scraping her tongue. At the same time she wrapped both hands around his secondary shaft, stroking the long, flexible length, guiding its leaking tip to her cheek, her throat, her breasts, smearing his glowing pre-come all over her skin.

"Good girl," Papicito groaned, fisting her hair, guiding her rhythm. "Look at you. My beautiful little mate, on her knees, drooling on my cocks. This is where you belong, mamacita. On your knees for your papi. Stuffed full of my seed. Marked as mine."

She moaned around his shaft, the vibration making him shudder. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard, her tongue working the ridges, one hand stroking his secondary shaft faster, the other cupping his heavy, glowing balls.

"Fuck — that's it —" His hips started moving, fucking her mouth with short, brutal strokes. "Take it all, little mate. Swallow your domdaddy down."

He came with a roar, his primary cock erupting in her mouth — thick, hot jets of golden seed flooding her tongue, filling her mouth faster than she could swallow. It overflowed, running down her chin, dripping onto her breasts. His secondary shaft pulsed in her hand, shooting ropes of glowing come across her face and hair.

"Swallow," he commanded. "Every drop, mamacita. Don't waste your papi's seed."

She swallowed, again and again, the sweet-electric taste flooding her senses, her pussy throbbing with every gulp — and when he finally pulled free, she licked his cockhead clean, then licked the seed off her own lips, her chin, her fingers, whimpering with need.

Papicito looked down at her — kneeling, marked, covered in his seed, eyes glazed with heat — and his expression was pure possession.

"Up," he said. "The heat hasn't broken yet, little mate. And I have so much more to give you."

He lifted her off her knees and carried her through the ship's pulsing corridors, her naked body smeared with his seed, her heat still burning white-hot in her veins. The vessel's hum had deepened into something almost like a purr, the amber lights throbbing in time with her racing heart.

"The ship wants the final claiming," Papicito rumbled, his gold eyes blazing. "The mating bond. The bite that seals you to me forever. Are you ready, mamacita?"

"Yes," she breathed, writhing in his arms, her pussy dripping down his forearm. "Yes, papi, please — claim me — make me yours forever—"

He carried her onto the command deck — a vast circular chamber with a dome of pure starfield overhead, the ship's living throne rising from the center like a dark flower. Consoles of grown crystal pulsed with violet light. And there, waiting, was the claiming cradle: a reclined frame of warm black bone, shaped to hold a body spread open and helpless.

He laid her back in it. Tendrils of the ship itself rose and wound around her wrists, her ankles, spreading her wide — legs bent and open, completely exposed, her soaked pussy glistening in the starlight, her claiming bite throbbing on her neck.

"Beautiful," Papicito breathed, standing over her, his massive frame silhouetted against the stars. "My mate. Offered up to her commander." He ran one clawed finger down her sternum, between her breasts, over her belly, to her dripping folds — and pushed two fingers deep inside her without warning.

She cried out, arching against the restraints.

"So wet," he growled, working his fingers in her, curling them against her front wall. "So ready. The ship can smell your heat from the engine core, mamacita. The whole vessel is aching for this." He withdrew his fingers, glistening, and held them to her lips. "Taste how ready you are."

She sucked his fingers clean, moaning.

"Now," he said, positioning himself between her spread thighs, his primary cock huge and leaking, his secondary shaft already seeking, "the final claiming. I will fill every hole you have, mamacita. I will bite you and mark you and flood you with my seed until the ship itself carries my claim in its bones. And when it's done, you will belong to me the way the stars belong to the night. Forever."

"Forever," she whispered. "Yes, papi. Forever."

He drove his primary cock into her pussy in one savage thrust — no warning, no gentleness — and she screamed as the ridged shaft speared her to the core, the knot slamming against her entrance. At the same instant his secondary shaft slid into her ass, stretching her open, and his long tongue unspooled and plunged into her mouth, filling it, stroking her tongue, tasting her cries.

She was impaled three ways at once — cock in her pussy, shaft in her ass, tongue in her mouth — held spread and helpless in the ship's cradle while her alien commander used her completely.

"Fuck —" He tore his mouth free just long enough to snarl, "That's it, take it all, take your papi's cocks like the good little breeder you are —" and then his tongue was back in her mouth, fucking it, while his hips pistoned.

The ridges dragged fire along her inner walls. The secondary shaft drilled her ass in brutal counter-rhythm. His tongue stroked hers, split tendrils teasing the roof of her mouth. The cradle's tendrils tightened, holding her open, holding her still for him.

She came hard, her whole body convulsing in the restraints, screaming around his tongue — and he fucked her straight through it, his rhythm never faltering, his gold eyes locked on hers, blazing.

"Mine," he growled against her mouth. "Say it, mamacita. Tell the ship who you belong to."

"Yours!" she sobbed, the tendrils at her wrists creaking as she strained. "I'm yours, papi! Your mate! Your devoted sub! Breed me, please — fill me —"

"Beg for my bite," he commanded, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, his knot battering her clit. "Beg for the final mark, little mate."

"Please bite me, papi!" she screamed. "Please — mark me — make me yours forever — I need it — I need you—"

He bent over her, his massive body covering hers, his cocks still driving into her — and his mouth found her inner thigh, high up, inches from her dripping pussy. His teeth sank deep.

Fire exploded through her veins. The second claiming venom was stronger — a molten flood that raced to her core and detonated there, and she came so violently that her vision whited out completely, her body arching off the cradle hard enough that the tendrils groaned. Wave after wave of orgasm tore through her, each one triggering the next, her pussy spasming around his cock in endless rhythmic pulses.

And he came with her — roaring, his primary cock swelling impossibly thick inside her as he erupted, jet after jet of molten golden seed flooding her pussy, while his secondary shaft pulsed deep in her ass, filling her there too. His seed overflowed everywhere — running down her thighs, pooling in the cradle, dripping onto the deck — and the living ship drank it with a deep, rolling shudder of ecstasy that shook the entire vessel.

The starfield dome above them flared bright, constellations igniting like the ship itself was coming with them.

Papicito stayed buried in her — both shafts — licking the new claiming bite on her thigh, then her neck, sealing both marks with his tongue. "There," he rumbled, his voice wrecked. "It's done. My venom is in your blood, mamacita. My seed is in your womb. My marks are on your skin. The ship has recorded the claiming." He lifted his head, gold eyes burning into hers. "You are mine. Forever. Nothing in this universe takes you from me now."

"Forever," she whispered, tears of pleasure sliding down her temples. "I'm yours, papi. Only yours."

He eased out of her slowly — both shafts withdrawing with wet, obscene sounds — and his seed gushed out of her in twin golden streams, flooding the cradle, spilling onto the deck. The ship hummed a deep, satisfied note, the deck drinking it all.

The tendrils released her. She collapsed boneless into the cradle, trembling, covered in his seed, both claiming bites throbbing, her whole body glowing faintly gold where his venom ran under her skin.

Papicito lifted her into his arms and carried her to the ship's throne — the dark flower of grown bone — and sat with her cradled in his lap, her head on his massive chest, listening to his slow, powerful heartbeat.

"Sleep now, little mate," he murmured, stroking her hair with one huge hand, his tongue gently licking her claiming marks. "The heat is broken. You did so well for your papi. My good girl. My devoted sub. My forever."

She slept wrapped in his heat, his seed still leaking from her, his marks burning sweet on her skin — and for the first time in her thirty years, Mamacita felt completely, utterly claimed.

She woke to his tongue between her thighs.

"Mmm — papi—" she moaned, still half-asleep, her body responding instantly, heat rekindling low in her belly.

"My mate wakes up wet," Papicito rumbled, not stopping — his long tongue licking her slowly, thoroughly, the split tendrils teasing her entrance. "Good. The bond is strong. You'll wake up needing me every day for the rest of your life, mamacita."

"Every day," she breathed, arching into his mouth. "Yes, papi. I need you every day."

He lifted his head, his chin glistening, and positioned himself over her where she lay sprawled on the throne. "Then let's start today properly."

He pushed his primary cock into her slow this time — deep, deliberate, savoring — and she moaned, wrapping her legs around his massive waist, pulling him deeper. His secondary shaft slid into her ass with practiced ease, and she gasped at the familiar fullness.

"Look at us," he murmured, rocking into her with long, powerful strokes, his gold eyes holding hers. "Commander and mate. Alien and human. Yours is the only pussy I will ever fill, mamacita. Yours are the only lips that will ever taste my seed."

"And you're the only one who'll ever have me," she whispered, clinging to him. "My papi. My domdaddy. My forever."

He kissed her — deep, slow, possessive — and fucked her with deep, rolling thrusts that built and built, his knot swelling, his seed rising. She came first, crying out into his mouth, her body rippling around him — and then he followed, groaning her name, flooding her with another endless golden tide.

They lay tangled on the throne afterward, her small human body dwarfed by his alien bulk, both breathing hard, both glowing faintly gold in the starlight.

"Papi?" she whispered.

"Mmm?"

"Take me home sometime. I want to see my desert again."

He was quiet for a moment. Then: "The ship can land in your wash, little mate. You can walk your desert whenever you wish." His arms tightened around her. "But you come back to me. You always come back to me."

"Always," she promised, licking the claiming bite on her own neck where his venom still burned sweet. "I'm your abducted mate, papi. Where else would I go?"

"Nowhere," he rumbled, satisfied, and pulled her closer. "You are mine. Claimed. Marked. Filled. Forever."

Above them, the stars burned cold and distant. Below, in the warm dark of the living ship, the alien commander held his human mate — and Mamacita, thirty years old, taken from a lonely desert night, had never belonged anywhere more completely than in Papicito's arms.

Days blurred into a rhythm of heat and claiming. Every morning she woke with his tongue or his cocks inside her. Every night he took her somewhere new on the ship — the engine core, where the deck vibrated with power and he fucked her against the pulsing conduits until she screamed; the observation blister, where he bent her over the transparent curve with the whole galaxy spread beneath them and filled her ass while his tongue worked her pussy until she came sobbing; the bio-garden, where he laid her in the warm moss and ate her for an hour before breeding her senseless under the violet lights.

He never softened. He never asked. He commanded, and she obeyed, and every order ended with her shattered and overflowing and begging for more. Her body learned his rhythms the way a song learns its singer — the grip in her hair before he took her throat, the growled "come for your papi" that always, always made her come, the claiming bites he refreshed with his teeth whenever the old ones started to fade.

One night, floating in the ship's warm dark with his seed drying on her thighs and his arm locked around her waist, she whispered, "Do you ever miss your world, papi?"

"I am looking at my world," he rumbled, and pulled her tighter. "Mine. My mate. My forever."

And Mamacita — thirty years old, abducted from a desert wash, claimed by an alien commander who appeared barely older than her — smiled into the dark and gave herself up to him completely, one more time, and then again.

The end.

Claimed in the Engine Dark

Content note: adult erotica. All characters are adults.

# [SCI-FI] Claimed in the Engine Dark

The generation ship Meridian Veil was thirty-one years out of Earth orbit and still fifty-eight years from the world it had been built to find. It carried four thousand sleeping souls in its cryo-bays and a wake crew of two hundred and twelve. Mamacita — twenty-nine years old, cryo-systems technician, second shift — had served her contract three years and had never once been written up.

Until tonight.

The engine decks were not her territory. Her territory was Cryo-Bay Six, the blue-lit cathedral of pods where she checked coolant lines and ran diagnostics and talked softly to the sleepers she would never meet awake. The engine decks belonged to Engineering and, more to the point, to Security — and the man who ran Security on the Meridian Veil ran it the way a fist runs a fight.

Papicito. Thirty-seven. Chief of shipboard security. Six foot three, broad through the shoulders, hands like a dockworker's and a voice that could stop a corridor brawl at twenty paces. He had written her up exactly once — no, never. He had never written her up. He had looked at her, though. Everyone had noticed. In the mess hall. On the observation deck during the twice-yearly realspace windows. He looked at her the way a man looks at something he has already decided is his, and she — she had spent three years pretending she hadn't felt the weight of that look settle low and hot in her belly every single time.

Tonight she had made a mistake.

The fault light had come up on her panel at 02:14 — coolant pressure anomaly, Loop C, subdeck 9. Loop C fed the aft cryo arrays. A pressure fault there could mean a ruptured line, and a ruptured line meant warming pods, and warming pods meant — no. She hadn't even thought. She'd grabbed her kit and gone down, through the maintenance crawlways, past the posted bulkhead that said in four languages and one pictogram: ENGINEERING RESTRICTED — SECURITY CLEARANCE REQUIRED BEYOND THIS POINT.

She'd told herself it was the coolant. Loop C ran through the engine decks; the schematic showed it plain as day. She was chasing the fault. That was her job.

That was what she told herself.

The truth, humming underneath like the deck plates themselves, was that she'd known he ran a security sweep of the engine decks at 02:30 every night. She'd known it for months. Everyone on the wake crew knew the chief's rounds.

She'd gone down there knowing.

The crawlway let out into a service gallery above the main engine shaft, and she dropped down the ladder with her kit banging against her hip, her dark hair pulled back in a work braid, her jumpsuit zipped to the throat the way regs required — and found the gallery dark except for the running lights, the deck plates thrumming under her boots with the deep heartbeat of the fusion drives.

"Loop C," she muttered to herself, pulling up the schematic on her wristpad. "Access junction should be — "

"You're not supposed to be here."

She froze.

The voice came out of the dark between two conduit runs, low and flat and unmistakably his. The running lights caught him as he stepped forward — black security uniform, the chief's silver bars at his collar, his face all hard planes and shadow. His eyes didn't leave hers.

"Chief." Her voice came out thinner than she wanted. "I — there's a coolant fault, Loop C, I'm tracking it, it feeds the aft arrays — "

"I know what Loop C feeds." He kept walking toward her, unhurried, and every step seemed to make the gallery smaller. "I also know this deck is restricted. I know your clearance doesn't extend past the Cryo Six bulkhead. And I know — " he stopped a full pace from her, close enough that she could smell him, machine oil and skin and something darker, " — that you know all of that too. Don't you, mamacita."

Her whole body went hot at the name. He'd never called her that before. Not once. She'd heard him use it — heard the crew use it, the nickname that had followed her since the docking-bay incident her first year, the one she pretended to hate — but from his mouth, low and certain in the humming dark, it landed like a hand closing around her throat.

"I was doing my job," she whispered.

"You were somewhere you don't belong." His gaze traveled down her body, slow and unhurried, the full length of her in the work jumpsuit, and came back up to her face. "You know what happens ...