Black Velvet

"I'm not doing this because you helped save my people," she whispered in his ear, "but because I want to..."

She pushed the tip of her curved claw beneath his chin, Jules feeling it prick him, and she angled his face upwards so that she could lean down to kiss him again. She maintained the tormenting tempo of her pumping as the taste of her tongue flooded his head, worming its way past his lips like it had a life of its own. Her sinuous muscle slid against his tongue, dancing across the roof of his mouth, filling his cheeks with its damp coils. He couldn't get over how long and thick it was, he never got used to it, it was a surprise every time that their lips met. Her licking was downright artistic, teasing him with quick flurries and then placating him with deeper, slower strokes that left him bewitched. She started off so gentle and measured, gradually becoming greedier and more sexual as the embrace dragged on. Her tongue wound around his own, Zuki careful only to use the smooth underside rather than the rough barbs as they intertwined. It was so nimble and limber that two of the aliens could probably have braided them together.

Jules would never have imagined that a simple kiss and a handjob could be so intimate and intense, but colorful points of light were dancing before his eyes as they glazed over, she was plucking at his nerves like the strings of an instrument. Whatever melody she was playing, it was putting him in a trance.

The pointed tip of her organ slid its way deeper, so slimy and powerful that he couldn't do much more than let her have her way with him. He felt it brush the back of his throat, his spine arching as he pushed his erection into her hand, feeling her fist bump against his belly. He was beginning to run out of air and she seemed to sense that, her own lung capacity allowing her to keep the kiss going for longer than any human could have managed. She pulled back slowly, wanting him to feel every inch as her tongue snaked back into her mouth, a rope of their blended saliva breaking to fall to the ground below.

As he gasped for breath, she wasted no time, nuzzling his throat and pinching his skin between her sharp teeth to keep him on edge. He was pushing into her fist more earnestly now, her still warm fluids dripping between her fingers as his movement forced it out. She cradled his face in her free hand, her fur incredibly sleek and smooth, her padded thumb stroking his burning cheek affectionately.

"I want you to finish in my hand," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. She tightened her grip, her wet fur brushing his glans, her fingers acting like ribs to enhance the sensation as she matched pace with the rhythmic rocking of his hips. He found himself reaching down to delve a hand into the downy fur of her wrist, gripping it for purchase as he thrust into her damp palm.

He reached out with his other hand, fumbling with the buttons on her already partially opened dress shirt. He released one button, then the second, the weight of her breasts pushing the garment open even from within the confines of the sports bra. Jules slid his hand across her flat stomach, tracing the indent that her abs cut into her fur with his finger, her sweat making her shine like she had been cut from volcanic glass.

Zuki pushed out her bust, the blackberry scent of her body filling his lungs as her fur brushed his nose. She pressed his face into her cleavage, the elastic material of her undergarment obstructing him, but doing little to prevent him from sinking deep into her soft flesh.

She pulled back for a moment, looking past the pipes and down the alley, her ears pricked up. Jules slowed his thrusting for a moment, worried that they were about to be discovered.

"What is it?" he asked breathlessly. "Is someone coming?"

"No," she replied, leaning back in with a smirk on her face. "I just wanted to see how you'd react."

"You know," he began, "the problem with the element of surprise is that you eventually lose it."

"Want to bet?" she asked, squeezing him in her hand and making his eyes roll back into his head. "When we're back in Araxie, I'll have you on guard at all times, I won't give you a moment of peace. At any second, I could pounce on you, you'll never know when it's coming."

"Is that...how the Araxie do things?" he asked, his hips pushing against her silky fist involuntarily.

"Maybe, and maybe I just want to keep you on edge all day."

"I don't know, embassies usually have some pretty tight security."

"Oh, so you underestimate the Araxie?" she asked playfully. "I'll sneak in through your office window and go for the throat, you'll never see it coming..."

To illustrate her point, she dragged her tongue across his neck, nibbling him softly and making him laugh as she began to move her hand faster and faster. His chuckling was stifled as he had to suppress a moan, and he ran his fingers through her messy hair, finding an ear and rubbing it in the way that she liked.

"F-faster," he muttered, the mounting pleasure dulling his wits.

"I like it when you ask for it," Zuki whispered back to him, "say it again..."

"I want you to go faster," he gasped, fruitlessly thrusting into her fist as she held it still to tease him. "Please...I'm getting close..."

She giggled contentedly, cupping her free hand around the back of his head and pushing his red face into her bosom again. She seemed to want him to smell her, or perhaps she wanted him to smell like her. Scent was an important part of Borealan social interaction that was almost completely lost on him, but he could appreciate her wonderful aroma all the same, a hint of her exertion mingling with the fruity smells of the soaps and shampoos that she had used earlier that morning.

"You're my pack leader," she murmured into his hair, "I'll never refuse you..."

Her pace increased suddenly, her slimy fingers gliding up and down his shaft, Zuki milking him ruthlessly as the intense pleasure made him groan into her bosom. She hushed him, laughing salaciously at his reaction.

"The humans can't hear you, but the Borealans might. I don't want to share my catch, you're all mine."

"Fuck, do that again," he mumbled as she swirled her gooey fingers around the tip of his cock. She obliged, massaging him, the contrast between her silken fur and the fleshy pads on the ends of her digits driving him crazy. He was fucking her hand with abandon now, his bestial lust didn't know the difference between her matted fur and her warm, dripping loins. She pushed back with just the right amount of force, the perfect amount of pressure. It was almost better than the alternatives due to how carefully she could tailor the experience to suit his desires from moment to moment.

"You're swelling in my hand," she murmured, "are you close?"

"Yeah...yeah. I'm close," he replied, feeling a fresh urgency rising inside of him. His eyes kept closing of their own accord, like he was falling asleep at the wheel, an all too familiar ache spreading through his shaft and up into the muscles of his lower body as they began to clench with the effort of staving off the coming finale.

Zuki stopped dead as she felt his warm load hit her palm, letting him shiver and buck as she held him close, his erection surging within its cage of wet fur. With every exquisite twinge of pleasure, he erupted inside her fist, his emission quickly filling her hand and sending viscous ropes of his pearly semen leaking from the gaps between her fingers. She squeezed gently, in time with his throbbing, draining him of every drop. With one final shudder, he gave her his last, a final rope of his fluid splattering against her fur. They stayed like that for a minute, Zuki allowing Jules to enjoy the euphoria that was drowning him, his still rigid member flexing a couple more times as aftershocks interrupted the pleasant soreness that had settled in his muscles. It was so satisfying, like scratching an itch, and he leaned his weight against her as she nuzzled his hair with a tenderness that contrasted with her earlier teasing.

He began to wonder how she was going to clean herself, but his unspoken question was answered as she brought her hand up to her lips, and her pink tongue emerged to slide through the lurid mess. Jules struggled to fasten his belt, his knees were weak, and the euphoria was still making him giddy. He tried to fight through it, but ended up leaning back against the wall for a few moments longer instead as Zuki peered down at him with a smirk on her face.

"I can't believe we just did that," he laughed. His heart was still hammering, he felt oddly exhilarated. "We should get back onto the street before someone wonders what we're doing down here."

"Act natural," she giggled, leaning out from behind the pipes to check that the coast was clear. They made a hasty exit from the alley and emerged into the bright sunlamps of the torus once more, Zuki adjusting her shades and ensuring that her jacket was properly fastened. She pulled her skirt down a little lower around her thighs, then they set off again.

"What are we doing now, pack leader?" Zuki asked as an engineer who had been fixating on the readout of his tablet dodged out of her way.

"That depends," he replied, "do you want to go back to Araxie right away?"

"I...should," she said, hesitating a little.

"You know, they're probably not going to give us a ride on another Courser now that the crisis has been resolved and there's no real urgency anymore. If we're going to be heading back on a carrier or maybe hitching a ride on a jump freighter, we're going to have to wait for the vessel to be ready to leave, and then it will take a week or two to make it back to Borealis. There's no way you're getting back to Araxie before at least a fortnight."

"Oh," she muttered, "I suppose it can't be helped."

She was trying to come off disappointed, but the rapid wagging of her tail betrayed her true feelings.

"Yep, looks like we'll be stuck on the station for a little while longer. I'll see how soon we can get a ride back to Borealis, but don't get your hopes up. We may be stuck in the apartment with nothing to do for a few more days."

"I suppose we will just have to find ways to amuse ourselves," she said with a shrug. He glanced up at her, and she grinned, unable to keep a straight face.

"We'd better stock up on fries," Jules said. "Come on, let's stop by the store on our way back."

"More beer, too?" she asked.

"Zuki," he said, putting on a stern voice. "You can't handle your alcohol, you know how you get when you're drunk. Absolutely, we're buying you more beer."

EPILOGUE

The humid, hot jungles of Araxie were a little more tolerable with the right clothing, ideally something that breathed and which didn't trap sweat. Jules found that running shorts and a tank top were about as much as he could wear before he started to become uncomfortable again. He didn't look out of place amongst the scantily-clad natives, however. The world of shirts and ties had been left far behind him.

Jules stepped outside of the wooden hut that had been serving as a temporary embassy while the real building was being worked on, closing the door behind him. He was greeted by the sounds of construction. A dozen of the dark-furred aliens were hammering and sawing at a log wall, their leather belts and vests laden with all kinds of alien tools suited to Araxie purposes. There were a few UNN engineers in their yellow overalls hovering nearby, overseeing the work, and giving pointers here and there. It was the dead of night, and so they were shining low-powered torches from their helmets, creating enough light to see by without bothering the Araxie. Of all the cultural differences, sleep schedules seemed the hardest to overcome.

The Patriarch had wanted the embassy to mesh with the rest of the village, so it was being erected by Araxie artisans, built from wood sourced from the local area in their traditional style. Bozka had been confused as to why it had to be built in his village at first, but after Jules had explained that embassies were usually built in capital cities and that the village qualified, he had understood.

While the outside would be very much Araxie in appearance, the interior would be built to Coalition specifications, with air conditioning and an AG field to make the stay a little more tolerable for its human occupants. The building was little more than a skeleton at this point, erected between two large trunks, a foundation of poured concrete providing more support for it. It would be quite large when completed, with two levels, and enough floor space to meet the Coalition's needs.

Jules was already thinking about the furniture, and how they might decorate it. Maybe some rugs and tapestries would give it a more Araxie feel, some skulls and pelts mounted on the walls like a hunting lounge, perhaps. The alien carpenters would surely produce some unique and expertly crafted chairs and desks, add in a holographic fireplace, and it would certainly look the part.

He chuckled to himself as he watched one of the engineers demonstrated how to use a level to one of the aliens, the creature tapping its claw against the glass tube curiously and following the air bubble with its green eyes.

As well as the engineers, there were some prefab buildings nearby that had been lowered from dropships, albeit with some difficulty due to the density of the jungle canopy. They had been scattered between the gnarled trunks and rounded huts in no particular pattern, wherever was most accessible from the air, the yellow glow from their interior lights making them stand out in the twilight. They were made from white and grey polymer, roughly the size of shipping containers, extending drill-like struts into the soft earth for added stability. UN scientists were using one of them as a field laboratory while they conducted their research in the nearby jungle, and the rest were being used by the Navy, either as small field command centers or as barracks for the Marines. As promised, there were UNN troops patrolling the outskirts of the territory, and there were vessels in the air searching for any signs of danger.

The Patriarch wasn't too happy about the disruptions to village life, but he knew that it was a temporary arrangement and so had consented to the presence of the unsightly structures. The same was happening in some of the other villages around the territory, too, allowing the Marines to cover as much ground as possible.

Jules heard the distant sound of engines, looking up through the canopy to see the fiery glow of a gunship's thrusters against the starry sky as it passed by overhead, some of the Araxie villagers who were going about their day to day business pausing to look up at it. They weren't afraid, such sights were becoming routine. So far, there had been no further incursions by the Rask, and so they still didn't have any real idea whether the Matriarchy was complicit in the attacks or not. The prisoner that the Araxie had managed to capture had been taken up into orbit for interrogation, perhaps he might shed more light on the situation in time.

He caught a glimpse of a white dress shirt, lit by the dappled starlight that penetrated the canopy above, spotting Zuki as she made her way in his direction. She was wearing her suit, a tablet computer clutched in her furry hand, her head held high. She was speaking with Bozka, who was walking along beside her. She insisted on wearing her suit at all times, regardless of the heat. Rather than just being an item of clothing, she saw it as the uniform of a diplomat, wearing it like a badge of honor during her daily dealings with the Patriarch and the UNN personnel who had set up shop in the village.

She walked with such self-assurance now, no longer tripping over her own feet, the previous meekness that she had exhibited around the other villagers now entirely absent. The sports bras certainly helped her with balance, but Jules suspected that it was confidence that she had been lacking as much as proper support.

When she arrived within earshot, Jules overheard their conversation. They were speaking in their native language, but he could hear the occasional English term. It sounded like she was explaining the finer points of a trade deal to Bozka, and he was hanging on her every word. The Patriarch had found himself quite overwhelmed by recent events, and Zuki had been spending much of her time acting as his aide, serving as an intermediary between the Coalition and the local government. No decisions were made without her input, and Jules had noticed that even some of the Alphas had started to seek her advice of their own volition when it came to dealing with their human guests.

She gestured to her tablet with a clawed finger, its glow lighting up her face, the Patriarch leaning in to get a closer look. He scratched his furry chin, nodding as they conversed in their strange, feline dialect. After a moment, he appeared to thank her, and she bowed her head to him before he hurried off towards one of the clusters of prefabs.

From behind the trees to Zuki's right emerged a group of hunters, easily identifiable due to their camouflaged cloaks and the quivers of crossbow bolts that they carried. They moved so effortlessly in the crushing gravity, hopping deftly over the protruding roots as though they weren't even making contact with the ground.

They crossed paths with Zuki, stopping their march to let her pass by. They bowed their heads slightly in greeting, a display of deference usually reserved for those of higher social standing that she returned with a cheerful hello. Jules recalled the snide comments of the guard in the watchtower that he had encountered during his first visit to the territory, how little respect he had shown Zuki. Now, warriors of the same class were affording her every courtesy.

The warriors set off again at a quick pace as she made her way towards him, planting a hand on his head and ruffling his hair.

"How are you liking the accommodations?" she asked. "I know it's not quite as fancy as the apartments on the station, but it's the best that we can do for now."

"It has a rustic charm," he replied adamantly, making her laugh.

"They wouldn't let me import potato tubers," she sighed, looking out over the village. "They said it would disrupt the local ecosystem."

"You'll just have to import your fries when the trade routes get set up."

"That's what the Patriarch was asking me about," she continued, "the scale that the Coalition operates at can be hard for the people here to visualize. He's used to negotiating trade deals with the other villages in terms of what can be carried on the backs of merchants, not freighters transporting a hundred thousand tons of cargo."

"It'll all work out," Jules assured her, "don't forget that we've gone through this process with both the Rask and the Elysians. We're bound to get good at it eventually, right?"

"Speaking of the Elysians, Torza Elysiedde has already put in a request to tour the territory," she added with an exaggerated wave of her hand. "He'll be arriving by personal shuttle in a week's time."

"The Elysians have personal shuttles now?" Jules wondered. "They're moving up in the world. Maybe the Brokers need to reevaluate some of those trade contracts."

"Have you eaten yet?" she asked, "I was coming to see if you'd like to join me in the great hall."

"Finally. I can sample some of your famous cuisine without the Marines babysitting me," he replied, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "I'll take the largest, juiciest piece of space steak that you've got. I suppose I'll have to start eating more protein if I'm going to be living in one point three Gs, Edwards told me that just existing down here is like weight training."