Imprisoned at her Pleasure Pt. 05

The next time she sees him is very different from the time before.

It's been seven days since Alex's previous visit - seven days of isolation, dreams, and one or two quickly stolen climaxes under the relative privacy of her sheets.

She doesn't hope he watches through the cameras. She doesn't.

And with every meal that is delivered, hastily and somehow with a tangible disdain even though the alien on the other side isn't visible to her at all, she is reminded of the intel she gave him: the dose of the pacifying drug in her meals stays low, just as Alex promised. Her muscles stay hers to command.

She starts working out with this newly returned control, every day, before every meal - it'll take time until her body is back to the kind of condition that has killed more than one alien, but she relishes the ability to at least start that recovery: no more mindlessly pacing her cell, her time punctuated only by the meals and her restless sleep - finally her muscles can burn with work, she can be drenched in sweat from something other than her captor - and maybe it's wishful thinking, but she thinks she sees the sharp edge of her abdominals start to return in the low light before sleep one night. Something of the original her.

The exercise doesn't stop her turning over what she told Alex, though - over and over. It was low risk information, just like he suggested, but she checks and double checks that she didn't say more about Thalassa all the same, about her friends and comrades, about the solar system's defensive structures...

She didn't. Her friends are safe.

Relatively safe.

With the return of her strength comes some of her confidence. She's a rebel commander, after all. Mid-level, sure, with several superiors above her, but still a commander - a squad leader, in fact, although the words sound foreign after so many days of Alex's captain, captain, captain. Every pilot is a captain of their own ship - it takes more to lead, to protect a squad, to take the fall...

She winces mid push-up on the seventh day, flooded suddenly with memories of the crash.

Her headset filled with shouting, with cursing.

Seven-Eight, we have three of those bastards right on your tail, if you pull up now we might be able to-

"Negative, Seven-One, I'm the only one with enough batt left for a firefight - save yours for getting home, you copy?"

Seven-Eight, you won't have enough power to break orbit again if you go into atmosphere now-

"Too late for that, Seven-One! Didn't I always say I wanted to die on Venus?"

Seven-Eight-

"Tell Oh-Fifty I'm running them into the west side of Mt. Skadi, four... correction, three clicks from Hadron. There's no way these fucks can pull up in time, not in those model elevens, you guys might be able to retrieve some of the-"

But then they shot out her starboard engine, with a deafening, shattering bang.

She remembers biting her tongue in the spin.

Thinking: this is going to hurt.

Then nothing.

Nothing for either seconds or for weeks, until she wakes up in a cell with only scraps of remembered sensation to mark the passing time. Scissors, cutting her out of her flight suit. Stitches, at some point.

A voice. A voice she's heard a lot more since, but back then it didn't say words in her language. Didn't make her body ache with desire.

She blinks, and finds her arms fully extended, mid-set with unshed tears in her eyes. She lifts a hand to swipe them away and finishes her reps with flat, calm determination.

She will see her people again. She just has to get through this... this episode with Alex, buy herself enough time to either be broken out of here or break herself out, and then she'll be reunited with them. The rebels look after their own, and they pull their own weight too - sooner or later, she will get out.

And if her dreams stray to Alex's tongue between her legs in the meantime, she won't crucify herself over it.

And if those dreams have her waking with her fingers already between her thighs, already wet, already on the edge of climax, she won't crucify herself for that, either.

Perhaps she can string Alex along, after all. Perhaps old, low-grade intel will be enough to keep her safe, to keep her least favourite alien feeling nice and accomplished, while not risking her friends' lives and hard-fought advances in the process. She doesn't love the idea of stroking his ego while she stalls for time, but-

Her cell door opens abruptly.

"Up you get, Captain."

The next time she sees him is very different from the time before.

She springs up from the floor not strictly out of obedience but out of an immediate, alarming rush - drug or no drug, the isolation is clearly starting to fuck with her and her eyes snap to him, to take in his face, his voice, his eye contact, fucking anything at this point, she hasn't seen anyone in days-

He's in a uniform.

She stops dead.

"Good morning," Alex says, but she doesn't hear him, because he's changed out of his boots into immaculately-shined parade shoes. He's in black tailored slacks, legs dangerously long, and he's traded his usual white shirt for a black tunic that hugs the narrowness of his waist so closely that her mouth runs dry. There are epaulets at his shoulders and he's broader than she remembered, muscle tightening the fabric across his chest in a way that shouldn't be allowed - when her eyes trace above the high-clasped collar to his face, she sees he's clean-shaven, hair smartly slicked back, and the edge of his jaw is sharp enough to turn her belly to pure liquid when he meets her eyes.

"What?" he asks her then, except this time he smiles a little. "Did... did I surprise you?"

And then he shifts his weight slightly to the side, brings up his hand - which is gloved, black leather, she almost passes out - to rest casually on something clipped to his belt at the hip, a sort of silver, intricately-handled-

"Is that," she manages, "a sword?"

Alex looks utterly at home, all deadly military grace, and his grin is handsome enough to make something twist with pleasure inside her as he nods.

"Ceremonial, but yes. I'm surprised you know what a sword is, to be honest."

She used to like ancient history, but none of that matters now - her eyes stray back to the epaulets at his shoulders, and she counts six silver, glinting studs.

Alex outranks her.

Alex significantly outranks her.

What a terrible time to remember his thumb, pressing gently into her windpipe as she climaxes.

She tries to say something, something witty and flippant, and only succeeds in gulping like a fish. Alex waits for a moment to give her a chance, eyes roaming over her face, but when nothing is forthcoming his smile starts to warm, his eyes filling with something... dangerous.

"My, my," he murmurs. "You're actually flustered."

"I'm not flustered," she replies immediately, which just makes him grin wider, and as he steps further into the cell so the door can shut behind him she steps back on jellied knees - before she can blush any further under the wicked twist of his smile she turns to face her bed and busies herself with the task of making it - the only distraction she can think of in this godforsaken room considering her actual preference would be to jump out of the nearest airlock right about now.

"Why-" she starts, but her voice comes out a little high and she has to start again. "Why all the fancy clothes, then? Did you run out of innocent people to harass and it's time to play dress-up?"

He's checking her out. She can feel it more than see it as she leans across the mattress to straighten the sheet, and he doesn't even hide it with an attempt at conversation - his silence as his eyes slide down the insides of her thighs makes her face heat with indignation as much as arousal, and she grabs the pillow to start punching it into shape.

"Alex," she says, flatly.

"I missed you, Captain," he replies, his voice warm.

God help her. "I- I said-"

"We have about two minutes. Should we try and make you feel better before we leave?"

Her knees almost give out, and she feels every one of those seven days since he last touched her with a deep, tight stab in her belly. Her exhale is shaky, and she tries not to think about those gloved hands - tries and fails. She's still leaning over the mattress when she finally looks over her shoulder at him, and as her eyes lift to meet his she knows they're hooded with barely-contained desire.

He inhales, softly.

"Alright then."

And he's unbuckling the sword from his belt so fast that her heart leaps. In two seconds flat she's somehow climbing onto her bed and opening her knees to watch him drop the sword to the floor with absolutely zero regard for it, the metal barely finished clattering before he's pulling off those gloves one finger at a time and advancing towards the bed to kneel between her legs in an instant.

"Wait, can't you-"

"Absolutely not," he says, and finishes pulling off the second glove with his teeth in a way that almost makes her whimper - then he's suddenly on top of her and there's tightness at her neck, she's pinned down into the pillow with a thud and her hips buck once with pure relish when he squeezes her throat with strong, naked fingers. "If you get cum on those gloves I'll be court martialed."

"Fuck Alex I want you."

It escapes her in a rush, and Alex practically growls. "I want you too," is his only reply, before she feels the fingers of his free hand slide between her legs and her mind is wiped with heat.

"Fuck, I thought so," Alex says then as she feels his fingertips divide her, his skin a little rough, and he chuckles as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of her throat - the heavy fabric of his dress uniform brushes against her breasts and makes her nipples harden instantly. "You're wet already. Do you like that I outrank you, Captain? I saw you looking."

"Just shut the fuck up and touch me."

And they actually both laugh at her words, breathless and a little delighted with each other, before Alex's two longest fingers press easily inside. She gasps, she groans, she almost pulls him up by the front of that maddening uniform to steal a kiss-

Someone bangs, hard, on the door of her cell.

They both jump, the first time she's ever seen Alex get completely startled, and when they meet each other's eyes with faces barely an inch apart they both hold their breath for just a second - like they're just teenagers, caught fooling around.

Then come sharp words from behind the door in the language she doesn't speak, the language she hates, and she gets to watch Alex's blue, enigmatic eyes change from ready lust to something cold. For the briefest moment she thinks she sees real anger there, and something like smoke, the kind of smoke that the alien species shifts so easily between when changing form - but then it's gone and so is Alex, straightening up from the bed and leaving her body empty before they'd even had a chance to really begin, empty and immediately yearning to have him back.

He snaps something in his language towards the door and it makes her stomach twist to hear it, his eyes staring towards the direction of their interrupter like he can glare a hole through the panelling.

She then watches as the two have a slightly longer exchange, one alien and one... Alex, and when she sees Alex bend to pick up his sword she closes her legs and pulls herself, hastily, into a stand as well, tucking her hair behind her ear and burning with something not quite as bad as shame. The alien on the other side of the door seems to leave, because the conversation doesn't continue, and she watches Alex re-clip his weapon, watches him locate his gloves from where he'd tossed them aside.

Then he murmurs: "We have to go," as if it isn't obvious.

"Go where?" she asks.

"There's an inspection of the outpost, and you're going to be inspected with the rest of us."

An inspection.

"A marching of the guard?" she says, and Alex's eyes move to hers, his now-gloved hands pausing in the straightening of his uniform cuffs.

"... Yes. Precisely."

Over the years the rebel resistance has accumulated a patchwork of both useful and at times frustratingly patchy information about the colonising bastards they're working so hard to repel from the solar system - and if there's one thing they know, it's that the alien species has many traditions maintaining its military force. The marching of the guard happens on a cycle designed to keep the soldiers continually at their highest discipline - the most senior officer in the sector could sweep in at any time to check there isn't a toe out of line, a single resource going to waste - and she's probably counted as one of those resources, prisoner as she is.

Alex looks at her for a moment, eyes dropping somewhere near her breasts and his mind suddenly spinning. Then his weight shifts towards the cell door and it unlocks for him in an instant.

"I'll be back," he says lowly. "Wait here."

As if I have any other choice, she thinks, and soon she's alone again in her cell, trying to ignore the nudging complaints of her neglected sex and thinking about how the gorgeous curl of his fingers inside her was far, far too brief.

When Alex returns there's a new urgency to him, and she immediately sees something new in his hands - he passes it to her and recognizes it at once as one of his white civilian shirts. It's been so long since she had a proper covering for her modesty that she practically leaps into it without needing to be told, pulling the soft cotton over her shoulders and hastily doing up the buttons even as she says, somewhat sarcastic:

"You couldn't get me some underwear while you were at it?"

And despite Alex's evident new anxiety, his eyes tracking her progress with the buttons with thinly-veiled impatience, he does have the decency to huff a small laugh.

"Where would be the fun in that?"

The shirt is too big for her thanks to the breadth of Alex's shoulders, and the fabric finishes just shy of covering her ass - when she's finished putting it on she's dismayed to find it somehow feels less modest than her nakedness did, her nipples hardening again under the friction of the fabric and a smokey, spiced scent drifting up to her nose.

She swallows, and fiercely ignores the stirring between her legs - god, his shirt smells good.

"Look at me," Alex says then, and she does. That uniform renders him all power and quiet menace, and she has to push down the small cocktail of admiration and fear that makes her heart race.

"You will stay with me at all times," he tells her quietly, and her skin warms with the intimacy of the warning in his tone - is that protectiveness in her captor's voice? "If you try anything at all that looks even remotely threatening towards the inspecting officer, you will be killed."

The last word lands like a small slap, and to his credit, Alex seems to notice too - a muscle in his jaw clenches.

"Someone will kill you," he amends, and it's an omission that she files away in a secret corner of her mind. "We take our hierarchies seriously, and my superior will not take as kindly to your general... personality as I do. I will be what keeps you alive today. Trying to get away from me will be a death sentence. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir."

And she could rip out her own tongue because she didn't mean to say that, something of the squad leader in her apparently responding to his authority in an instant, but Alex barely seems to notice - he just nods once, as if he's used to being obeyed, and then reaches out to take her arm.

Corridor after corridor, like when Alex led her towards the showers days ago. He's so different now, walking beside her in quiet, focused silence, that it's hard to believe he's the same person as the grinning, tousle-haired man who'd pressed her against the tiles and kissed her so soundly in the steam.

I'm quite taken with you today.

Stop trying to touch me there, Captain. Look how much I'm having to restrain you - look!

"What is it," the present Alex says then, his voice quiet, and she startles to realise she'd been looking at him so obviously.

"Nothing."

"Tell me, I could do with the distraction."

And she almost stares at him point blank - he speaks to her now as if something that's meant to be separating them has simply... melted away, as if their week apart while he did god knows what has made him softer.

A squad leader would use this opportunity, and she knows that. She just doesn't know how, yet.

"The shower, the other day," she murmurs, as they turn together down another corridor - ahead of them the dark panelling opens up into a hive of activity she can more hear than see, a chatter of voices and a thud of footfalls drifting towards them.

"Tell me more."

She swallows against a sudden swell of something. Holy shit, there's so much she can do with his attraction now she isn't drugged, she can get out, she can escape, she can get back to-

She breathes evenly to calm the rush, before it brings back distractions about the crash, her squad - the end of the corridor is nearing and the sound of voices rising.

"I liked how you kissed me," she finds herself murmuring, only able to hold onto the truth through her spinning thoughts. "And how... how much you liked it too."

And Alex's smile is brief, tight. He might swallow.

"I'll be doing my best not to think about that during the inspection, thanks."

And she huffs a laugh, before the corridor walls fall away and they're stepping out into the open space together.

'Shuttle bay' doesn't do the enormous room justice - it's more like a hangar. The walls are more than a mile away from them in each direction and barely visible to her if not for the big, glaring red stencils of alien language printed across their panels - she might not know their tongue but she's landed in enough spaceports to guess the meaning of the words and labels, and all at once she feels a pang of longing for her squad's ready room back home. Coffee, the creak of leather seats, the slap of a hand on her shoulder, the bang on the podium as their CO tells them all to sit down, shut up, and switch on. Today's orders are as follows...

The roof of the hangar is so high that the lights studded into the ceiling look more like stars, and for a dizzying moment she realises she has no idea if they're on the surface of a planet, underground, or inside a ship. She'd guessed it was a ship, but the size of this room would mean the enemy were capable of building spacecraft far bigger than anything her people had yet encountered, and hadn't Alex said 'outpost'?

That's a term her enemies use for planet-side fortifications in foreign territory, which means territory they've already captured in her solar system. That could only place them in the fifth sector, the outer ring, because they haven't succeeded in pushing further in...

Realisation dawns.

They're on Pluto.

Pluto, which the enemy annexed two years ago but is only a week's flight from rebel space, only a stone's throw from her people if she can simply find a way to-

"Here will do."

She startles slightly, not realizing how much she'd been walking on autopilot under Alex's guiding hand until he brings her to a stop. The shapes of other soldiers, not wearing skins like Alex is, hurry past them from all directions, filling her nose with a gunpowder burning that's nowhere near the heated, pleasant rush of Alex's scent on her borrowed shirt. She grits her teeth and steps closer into Alex's orbit just to make sure none of the fuckers touch her, her attention focusing on what's in front of her.

Stretching across the hangar are rows upon rows tent-like structures, and behind those, their blunt and formidable snouts just peeking out, are files of waiting spacecraft. Her gut tightens as she recognizes the hulking, inelegant shapes of model eleven fighter-transports behind the lighter jet-types, and she can only take brief satisfaction in the phaser burns across their dark blue fuselages before she's being turned, somewhat pointedly, away. She managed a quick count all the same, and an approximate sweep of the other models they've got waiting here for god knows what, before Alex's manoeuvring brings her face to face with a very different ship, one that was definitely not in front of them in the seconds before - she actually jumps, then stares.

It's a mark-10 speed cruiser. So called because it can travel at ten times the speed of light in short, terrifying bursts that make even her pilot's heart quiver to imagine. No human can pilot a vessel at that speed without an insane level of cryo- and tempogenic freezing, something her people are still far from understanding, and the sight of the sleek, beautiful little black cruiser waiting in front of them like a ship-sized throwing star only serves to remind her once again how different her enemy is from her.

The cloaking technology on that vessel could win her people the war, she thinks then, just as the door in the ship's side unlocks with a thud. No wonder she didn't see it until they wanted her to.

Across the space from her and Alex, the alien soldiers hurry into neat formations so that everyone is ready to greet the new arrival before they emerge - files of infantry on one side, two humans (sort of) on the other. Every soldier except Alex is wearing their bodies in that half smoke, half humanoid form that's so common for them between skins, and the sight still makes a kind of grim hatred ignite in her body: to look at any individual directly is to see a flickering, shifting outline of a humanoid, with enough substance to have opacity, but when they move their bodies seem more to drift than step, even if their footfalls do make a sound.

It's something about particles versus waves, she recalls vaguely as everyone settles into a hush, something about the quantum properties of their flesh allowing them to shift and change in ways even human technology, let alone bodies, has no way to replicate. It's part of the reason they're so adept at post-lightspeed travel. They have no need of clothing in this between-state, marking Alex's choice of humanity out even more starkly beside her - and even if it's some long game to win over her trust (and thus her secrets), she can't help but feel grateful for the heat of his very real body behind her in that moment - she can feel more than one of those assembled assholes staring at her as they stand in file, their invisible eyes heavy in their vague, drifting heads, and even if she tells herself they feel nothing for her human form, disgust crawls over her skin at the thought of their leering all the same.

After all, if Alex is one of them he certainly has no problem enjoying her body.

"You're doing well," comes a soft murmur then, just grazing the shell of her ear, and she didn't realise just how much she'd stepped back into his space until she hears how close his voice is. Her heart manages to somehow calm and thrill all at once, and she swallows, giving him a small nod.

Then stairs fold out from the speed cruiser's opening door, so elegantly that it's more like the unfolding of a wing, and her breath catches at the beauty of the engineering. What she doesn't expect next is for a human woman to emerge from the ship, but she doesn't get a chance to register her shock before a ripple speeds across the gathered soldiers - at least two hundred in the end - and she feels Alex snap to a similar attention behind her.

"It's just a skin," he whispers briefly, and then silence settles over them all like a blanket.

The woman - no, alien, alien - looks to be in her mid-thirties, but the hair she's chosen for this body is a shining, snowy white braid, her skin just as pale. She's unnerving in her symmetry, her cheekbones high and almost feline, and she's wearing the exact same uniform as Alex, the contrast stark against her unnatural complexion.

She steps easily down from the ship to the hangar floor, and it's difficult to miss the same wicked blade at her hip that Alex carries, and a phase pistol besides. It's then that it becomes obvious this officer is the only one armed like this - no one else seems to have a gun, let alone the swords that she and Alex have, and she can only assume that this is some stipulation of the marching of the guard to protect their highest ranking official from harm.

Then she realises the newcomer's identity, recognition hitting all at once, and she knows her mistake:

Tellia.

A fleet commander, one of only two in the solar system, and therefore not a woman: simply 'they'. Tellia shifts between any gender they want seemingly at whim, if the rebel intel she remembers is correct.

She clenches her jaw and lifts her chin against a surprising flood of nerves: Tellia's reputation for violence against prisoners of war is so renowned that no rebel would be caught within a lightyear of them voluntarily - and now she gets to watch as the alien surveys their gathered troops from only twenty five yards away.

Shit.

"Well, this is quite a gathering we have here!"

Tellia's voice is somehow both masculine and feminine at once, a kind of sliding alto, and her skin immediately prickles to hear them speaking in her language - she barely has time to wonder why she's doing so before the fleet commander's eyes - as white as their hair - turn to pin her exactly where she stands with Alex. Her stomach freezes over, and she gets her answer:

The officer heard about her. Maybe she came specifically because of it.

"And what a special guest we have for this marching, comrades!"

Shit, is this who Alex gave her intel to? This is way out of her depth - she might be a decorated rebel but a fleet commander... This alien has ordered the deaths of thousands in their career, she doesn't want to be a part of anything involving them except, perhaps, a little justice.

"Greetings, Division Commander," Tellia says then, their strange voice warming slightly as they call across the distance, and she feels Alex's weight shift minutely behind her, pulling her from her anxious thoughts.

"Greetings, Fleet Commander," he replies, and salutes them somewhere out of her line of sight. Alex is a division commander. So there are hundreds under his responsibility, maybe even this whole outpost.

"I've heard about your little experiment," Tellia continues, nodding away the acknowledgment and completely ignoring the other soldiers assembled behind their back."Some success already, I'm told."

Alex's grip doesn't waver on his captive's arm in the slightest, and her face flushes with anger when she realises what the alien must be referring to. Alex replies:

"Yes, sir. Success already."

And she tries desperately not to think about the Thalassa decoy - it was low risk intel, but the signals still did something. Still helped her friends.

"I'm not sure what your parents would make of your suggested approach to intelligence gathering," Tellia says then, and they begin to stroll from the bottom of the stairs to close the distance between the three of them, their parade shoes clicking on the floor, "but something tells me they'd be proud." A cat-like smile. "Especially your mother, hm?"

That makes Alex's breathing pause, but only she is close enough to know it. Something about the tone the fleet commander used, something about the new hint of subtle, thinly veiled contempt, makes something dark suddenly stir in her belly, something she hasn't felt since before her capture - something... protective.

Then the alien Tellia is coming to a stop right in front of her, and she has no choice but to meet their cold, white eyes.

"Greetings, rebel."

"Greetings, you colonizing fuck."

And a hiss whips across the gathered soldiers, both shock and anger. She might not want to die, but like hell it she's going to show this bastard any respect, and behind her she feels Alex's hand tighten for half a moment on her arm then relax again, as if he gets a hold of his own discipline.

Tellia, for their part, simply starts to grin.

Wide, sharp, and slow.

"Do we know her name yet, Division Commander?" they eventually ask, and suddenly their voice is like silk, their predatory gaze now fixed on her.

Yep, that was a mistake.

"Negative, Fleet Commander, not yet."

Tellia's eyes flick to Alex at this, and they reform their features into a look of mock surprise - its insincerity is unsettling to watch.

"Really? You haven't managed to fuck it out of her during this little project of yours?"

And this time the soft ripple through the ranks is different, almost amused, and she feels her skin burn anew as Alex merely replies:

"No, sir."

"Now that's a shame," they say. "I hear you have an excellent human cock."

Alex's grip goes very slack on her arm at that. He seems to collect himself for half a beat, then he says, his tone unreadable: "Thank you sir," and holds her firmly again.

"Is it cold in here, rebel?"

And now the alien's gaze is suddenly locked on her face again, the subject change so fast she almost wonders if the alien has something wrong with them - she could swear the commander's teeth are sharp when they smile, what the fuck even is this skin?

But before she can think of an answer, an answer that would probably make Alex block all circulation to her left arm in annoyance, there's suddenly another darting movement and she gasps - gasps then chokes, because there's suddenly pressure - no, pain - where the alien has grabbed her nipples in a pinching grip, so abruptly that something fries, shocked, down her spine.

"Look at these, comrades!" Tellia calls out then over the sound of her guttering breath, their voice raising to the rows of soldiers behind their back. "Aren't these utterly bizarre, these things?"

When she goes to raise her arms and immediately smack their hands away she suddenly feels Alex's free hand join the task of holding her still, now holding her on both sides and holding her hard. He squeezes her arms, just once, and she barely has the wherewithal to understand his signal through the outrage flooding her system, let alone to listen to it:

Easy, Captain, easy. She sways in his restraining grip, seething and glaring.

"They feed their young with them," Tellia calls over their shoulder, and grins down at her breasts as they lift them up, a little painfully, by their most sensitive points - her body brims with rage as she holds herself still with the power of her fury alone. "When she gets bred, these fill with milk and she can squirt it all over the place if you squeeze them right."

Another rustle of something moves through the ranks at their words, something she just knows this time is arousal, and her face burns with so much indignation, her gut sickened, that it's all she can do to focus on the warmth of Alex's gloved hands on her arms, begging her to stay calm and ignore the throbbing, heavy ache of her breasts.

Remember their reputation: they will kill you.

"But that's not the best thing about you is it, rebel?" Tellia asks then, voice still raised even as their white eyes fix on hers once more. Then her nipples are abruptly released, her breasts dropped with a deliberate, crude bounce - and somehow she knows what's coming before it does, her heart beginning to pound. "Because I'm not sure if you can scent it from over there, comrades, but she has this excellent, perfect little hole-"

And Tellia drops a hand under Alex's borrowed shirt and sticks a finger, still gloved, straight inside her.

"Here."

She gasps out loud before she can stop herself, half stumbling on her feet, but she hits Alex's chest behind her in an instant and he doesn't move with her - he only shifts his grip to take her under the shoulders and it just about stops her from falling.

And as Tellia laughs, a loud, barking sound with their finger still so rudely inside her, Alex's breath is suddenly brushing against her ear a second time.

"They think I'm still dosing you against violence," he whispers. "Just take it, Captain, don't risk yourself."

She gulps air and does her best to breathe through the mortification, the foreign, probing finger sliding up inside her pussy with an ease that Alex made possible not twenty minutes before, not this alien, this bastard. She understands his message well enough - if she acts now, if she equips her violence now, she reveals an advantage only Alex knows she has, and for what? A moment's satisfaction before Tellia rips her limb from limb with their ceremonial sword? Shoots her clean through with their gun?

But the fury...

Stay alive. Just take it.

"You'll ruin my glove, rebel," Tellia says then, and before she can even muster a word in response the fleet commander's hand is suddenly moving, suddenly pressing further inside her body, and her muscles lock up at once to try to keep them out.

"Oh, she's tight, my friends," Tellia immediately says, their eyes roaming over her face and soaking in her outrage with pure delight. "I know it's not to everyone's taste, but I think she'd feel quite wonderful to fuck on one of our cocks."

"I'd rather-"

"Shut it," Alex says immediately, clearly, and that voice is very different from moments before - it's the voice of an officer, the voice that goes with that devastating uniform. "Take the compliment from your fleet commander."

And Tellia grins with every one of their sharp teeth at him, pleased.

"Thank you, Division Commander. Tell me, have you put fingers inside the rebel yet?"

It's then that she realises she can feel Alex's heartbeat, pressed chest-to-back as they are - it's beating hard, his breathing light, and when she tries to squirm away again his grip on her shoulders only tightens.

Stay alive. Just take it.

"Yes I have, Fleet Commander."

Tellia hums, as if the image is delicious to them even as their victim's face burns.

"I'm not surprised. I bet your superiors won't let you put anything else in though, will they? Even though I'm sure you've requested it by now - you're probably a bit desperate to try it after so many days."

Then the finger inside her abruptly changes from its blunt, rude intrusion to a stroking pattern out of nowhere, so sudden after the alien's words that her mind suddenly lurches, by accident, towards the exact idea they're alluding to. She gasps out a small sound, something sparking in her body at the combination of the thought and the improved pressure, and immediately she grows hot with shame, with the horror of her body's betrayal.

"Oh rebel," Tellia says then, because of course they didn't miss it, and of course they're going to make sure everyone else knows too. "Did you just enjoy yourself? Do you like that idea?"

"Fuck you," she grits out, because she knows it won't be enough to end Tellia's fun but she has to say something, has to deny-

"The rebel pilot is wet for your division commander, comrades!" Tellia calls, ignoring her completely, and then their hand shifts in a way she recognizes too well as the soldiers finally have permission to laugh, to leer openly at her humiliation from their now slackening formation where they crane their dark heads to watch. She steps on Alex's shoe in her efforts to move back, trying to dislodge the offending finger and get some room before they can slip in any more-

But she's too late, and she's forced to bite down on a thick, strained sound as the fleet commander pushes two more fingers into her pussy, as if entitled to her tight heat.

The new fullness makes an ache rise in her whether she wants it to or not, and her mind slips from its discipline again, slips away from Tellia's cold eyes and hateful grin to the undeniable heat of Alex's body pressed behind her - of how exposed she is, her abused nipples hard through the fabric of the shirt, the fabric rucked up to show her sex, and they begin to finger her soundly, like some kind of twisted pet for their amusement.

With the smell of Alex so close, with his breath so warm against her ear, her thoughts heat up almost by accident - even as she tries to twist free in a way that could still convince them she's drugged, she's reminded in a brief flash of the way Alex took his glove off with his teeth that morning, that blissful, too-brief moment when he slipped one of his fingers where she wanted it the most. His soft laugh as he said, pressing a kiss to her throat:

Do you like that I outrank you, Captain?

And the fleet commander's wrist thrusts up into a definite, mortifying sound of wetness. Her weight rocks back - but before she can try to regain her footing, let alone her pride, her brain suddenly stutters as she feels something unmistakable, something pressing into her butt from behind-

Alex is hard. It's made him hard, having this done to her while she's held fast in his arms.

Her breathing snatches in her throat and she feels his grip on her shoulders flex, feels him swallow and his own breath catch at the sudden, and apparently pleasant, friction that she gave him with her shift. And for a moment time stands still.

When she sucks in her next breath she forgets, for an instant, about the fleet commander's fingers, forgets to listen to the jeers and hoots of the soldiers and the show she must be giving them with those unmistakeable sounds - because she can feel the shape of Alex's cock, feel its length, and he's suddenly exhaling, suddenly pressing just slightly more into her body like he can't quite help himself, like some sort of autopilot has him seeking more of that the first brush of pleasure before his rational mind catches up - good god, where is she going to put all of that?

Then time unfreezes again, and she's gritting her teeth against a new insistence in the alien's fingers, her muscles clenching around the stretch.

"Captain," Alex whispers then, so quietly she almost thinks she imagines it - his voice is softly gravelled. "The fleet commander will leave you alone once you let them prove their point, once you let them win."

Her face burns because she knows what he's getting at - what 'winning' would look like in this scenario. "But- but Alex..."

Tellia is waxing lyrical in the alien language now, ignorant of their soft exchange and their fingers not ceasing their movement, in and out, in and out, even as they deliver some kind of speech to the assembled soldiers behind them. They're no doubt preaching about the inevitable victory of their race, about how this rebel's quivering, squirming body shows in perfect microcosm that they'll soon ravish the human species entirely. She writhes through it, holding down a groan and trying to gather a strategy that is anything different to Alex's advice. But held fast between the two officers, and with every pump of fingers drawing fresh wetness onto the slick, gloved hand, she feels her resolve wobbling.

Her gut twists. No, she should end this, she should reveal the secret about her non-existent dose and fight, because it's better to die by phaser fire than to be so humiliated-

But then Alex is whispering in her ear again, and when he rocks his hips into her body a second time, his clothed cock nudging nice and insistently between her legs, desire blooms on a level that practically feels genetic.

"Think of me, Captain," he murmurs, even as the soldiers cheer at something Tellia says, at the arrogant, salacious details they must be so faithfully reporting. "You've no idea how much I want to be inside you right now, how good you smell, how good you sound, please just think of me and don't do anything rash."

"Alex, don't," she breathes. "Don't make me."

Even as her mind says: open your legs, open your legs.

Alex ignores her protest and speaks again, speaks with a voice that's so warm, so soft, that her toes want to curl despite everything. "You're absolutely drenching my cock through my uniform, Captain. I tried to fight it, I tried to think about something else, but you're so warm and wet down there and I... I still need you from earlier. I could hardly breathe when you looked at me like that in your room, when you let me climb on top of you like that and let me hold you down-"

And she whimpers, feels fresh need throbbing inside her just like he wants - it isn't fair that this other alien knows to stroke at her inner, sensitive flesh, not while she's hearing such things from the man behind her. It's making her wetter, she knows that, and if she shifts back just a little more she can feel the head of Alex's cock at the base of her pussy, nudging at where she's already being so thoroughly used. She starts to really imagine that it's him in there, that she somehow squeezes that in there, and she feels her legs open a little more, feels something hot and molten begin to coil inside her belly. Her eyes squeeze shut, and her breathing starts to drag.

"You're so beautiful," Alex tells her, and the way he holds her tight against his chest is as much an embrace as a restraint, his strength containing her body with ease. "You're going to stay alive, and you're going to think of me as you go over this edge, and when I take you back to your bed tonight I'm not leaving again until I've been inside you over, and over, and over. Until you know what it's like to have my cum inside you. Think of me, sweetheart. Think of me, and enjoy how those fingers feel inside you, that's it, that's it-"

And she climaxes, suddenly. She curves in his arms like a bow, and Alex is ready for her at once - he locks her tightening body in his hold and gives her enough resistance to strain against as the wave hits, hard, makes her groan before she can stop herself and makes her feet lift clean off the floor. He takes her weight completely and there's a roar in the ranks in front of her, but she barely hears it through the ache of tight, urgent pleasure that twists through her body and she's desperate to moan, to say the name of the man who really did this to her, when she feels someone press between her legs from the front she can almost convince herself it's him, that it's his gorgeous, deadly body, over and over, until you know what it's like to have my cum-

But it's as she wraps her legs, heavy with pleasure, around the frame between her thighs that she registers the foreign, strange boniness. Even with her eyes closed, wrong lances across her foggy mind.

That's not Alex.

Her gut lurches in an instant, poisoning any last moment of pleasure and making her eyes snap open in a heartbeat, her breath still ragged and her body aware of a pressure still moving against her insides. The first thing she sees is Tellia's predatory gaze, leering back at her with total vindication, and then she sees their hand, continuing to fuck her pussy through a post-orgasm tightness that they think they caused. Lustful, arrogant victory shines out of the alien's white eyes as they watch her face for any more signs of betrayed pleasure, their teeth bared in a wicked grin, but then their other hand is suddenly dropping to their uniform belt as if it's not enough. There's a smell of gunpowder, something shifts under the fabric of their slacks as if something is beginning to grow there, and she hears Alex say something to the fleet commander that sounds like an objection but suddenly her ears are filled with ringing - because she knows his objection won't be enough. She knows what comes next, her pulse rocketing into panic, and all at once her mind becomes a single stream of no, no, she can't let this happen, she won't let this alien humiliate her in front of hundreds of leering eyes and then pull their cock out for more, not while she's trapped between the two of them like this, trapped and still tight from climax, they'll push it inside her until she can't help crying out, they'll think they've won, they'll fuck her and fuck her and they won't stop until she-

She knows what a squad leader would do.

All at once her mind sharpens to a blade, and she's yanking the alien forward with the muscles in her legs before they can finish with their belt - she surprises them enough to catch them off-balance entirely, their eyes going wide, and she locks her legs to trap them against her in an instant. Twisting in Alex's grip, she shoots her hand down to the holster at the alien's side and in half a second her fingers find the cool, smooth metal of the phaser pistol hanging there - she's yanked it free before they can even register her intention, then she's lifting the gun, heavy, over her naked legs and steadying it in both her hands. The weapon is almost too big for the space between them and Tellia's eyes flash with fury-

The BANG of the pistol jars all the way down her arms and even through her legs where they're wrapped around Tellia's waist, and everyone near them shouts out, ducking down as the weapon's bright blue phase bullet rockets from the barrel and straight towards the speed cruiser two dozen yards away, its door and stairs still open. The bullet hits the armoured panelling in a shower of sparks and it barely leaves a mark, but even so her breath is stolen from her lungs by the strength of the kickback and she's dropped from Alex's grip as his arms spring open with sheer surprise. She lands on her feet, just, and the weapon hums in her hands as the battery burns hot, the energy required even for one shot taking almost a third of its power.

Then she's dragging in a breath and looking up at her assailant, no longer wrapped in her legs but still standing there in their dark, menacing uniform.

Then she hears Alex's breathing stop.

Because there's a large hole where Tellia's face used to be, the edges still sizzling from the phaser fire. She can see right through it, to the waiting ship behind.

And that's when all hell breaks loose.