Chapter 5: Slumber Party

They left the bar and headed out into the narrow streets of the city, the cobblestones lit by the glow of the street lamps. It reminded Ramos of an old-world town, the cramped, winding pathways designed only with pedestrians in mind rather than cars and mag-levs. He’d never been to Venice or Paris, but he imagined that it might feel something like this. The pale stars that hung above the alien architecture gave everything a surreal feel when coupled with the lack of people. In any population center on Earth or the larger colonies, the streets would be packed at all hours of the day and night, but the Rask lived simpler lives. It was night, and it was getting cold, so the cobblestone streets were all but deserted.

He had to hurry a little to keep up with the pack. Their legs were far longer than his, and their bodies were adapted to the high gravity. The city was like a maze of stone and mortar, but as dense and as winding as it might have been, the bright spires of the Matriarch’s palace rising above the domed rooftops made it impossible to lose one’s way.

After maybe ten minutes, they came upon a structure, Rashka stopping at the large wooden door. Like many of the Rask houses that he had seen so far, it was one story tall, its walls made of sandstone blocks coated with mortar. There was a dome on the roof, and he could see no outward-facing windows. It was starting to get chilly, so maybe that was as much about keeping in the heat as keeping it out.

She pushed the heavy door aside with a creak, and they piled inside, Rashka illuminating a stone foyer as she flipped a large light switch. Like the lamp posts outside, the electric lighting looked like a recent addition, the cables snaking their way along the walls. They connected to bulbs with heavy shades that made their glow warm and diffuse. It looked a little like a dungeon, but the comfortable furniture and the tapestries on some of the walls helped make it more welcoming.

As they ventured deeper, Ramos saw that it was all open-plan, the dividing walls serving only to block the view from certain areas rather than to section the building off into rooms. There were stone archways in places, but no doors. Like at the bar, the wooden support beams that made up the framework of the house were visible, and there was a fire pit in the middle of the space beneath the self-supporting dome. It seemed to be Zhura’s job to light it, so she made her way over to it and crouched down, stoking the glowing coals with an iron poker.

The Rask sure liked their couches and throw pillows. Ringing the fire was a low, luxurious couch covered in soft cushions and draped with silken coverings not unlike the fabric that their clothes were made from. There were spits and cooking utensils near the pit, too, suggesting that it was where they prepared most of their food. All he had seen them eat so far was roasted meat, so it wasn’t like they needed a rice cooker and a sous-vide.

There was an area of the house that appeared to be a dedicated armory that doubled as a dressing room. The walls were lined with wooden racks that held all manner of weapons and equipment – perhaps leftovers from the rebellion – and he could see a few of their leather outfits hanging from hooks. On the far side of the space was the bedroom, sectioned off from the rest of the house by a couple of walls, identifiable only by a glimpse of silks and cushions through the stone archway.

It seemed that privacy was not of great concern to the packs. They all lived together in a shared space without even having individual bedrooms. As his hosts made themselves comfortable on the couch near the growing fire, he poked around a little more, seeing what looked like a pantry or a storeroom. They must have a bathroom somewhere in the building where they could bathe, too.

“You have never been inside a Rask dwelling before?” Rashka asked, gesturing with a furry hand. “It is perhaps more communal than what you are accustomed to, based on what we saw of your prefab. This is the common area where we relax and cook. Over there, you will find the bed chamber, and that is the pantry and meat locker. The armory is over there, and the spa is over there.”

“You have a spa?” Ramos chuckled.

“I believe that is the correct word,” Rashka replied, considering for a moment. “What did the Polars call it? A sauna? Perhaps a bathroom. It is where we bathe and groom ourselves.”

“Got it,” Ramos replied, seeing that the bathroom was also connected to the rest of the house via an empty archway. “So ... I guess I’ll be taking the couch? That works for me.”

“You could join us in bed,” Kozi replied, smirking at his surprise. “Do not give me that look – it spans the whole room. There is space enough for all.”

“Come,” Rashka ordered, Ramos practically standing to attention at the sound of her voice. “Warm yourself by the fireside. The night is already sapping away the day’s heat.”

He did as she asked, climbing onto one of the oversized couches and watching the growing flames start to flicker. It was oddly cozy, the makeshift light fixtures giving the impression of soft torches, reflecting off the stone and casting deep shadows.

“So,” he began, glancing around. “What’s with the tapestries?”

“They are woven to commemorate historical events and great deeds,” Rashka replied. “This one celebrates my pack’s first posting to a sandship. This one, a battle commendation. That one on the far wall is simply decorative. It shows a handler training war hounds. Your people called them razorbacks during the rebellion, I believe.”

“It has kind of a medieval style,” Ramos muttered, admiring the crude figures. The perspective was strange, and the art was alien, but the craftsmanship was undeniable. “We had something similar in our past,” he explained. “For example, the Bayeux Tapestry is a very famous one that was embroidered during our Middle Ages, about sixteen hundred years ago. It’s seventy meters long and records the Norman conquest of England – one of our ancient territories.”

“Seventy meters,” Zhura added, nodding in approval. “It must have been a great conquest. I should like to see such a thing.”

“There are some in the palace nearly as large,” Kozi said. “They commemorate the Lake Wars – when the wandering tribes first founded the great territories.”

“Strange that we should have this in common,” Rashka said, seeming amused. “Well, I doubt that we shall be awake for much longer. Once Zhura has warmed the house, we shall retire. Until then, would you like something more to drink, Ramos? Perhaps you would like to bathe? Our home shall be your home until you cross the threshold.”

“I, uh, took a shower before I left the prefab,” he replied. “I appreciate your hospitality, though.”

“Come a little closer to the fire, Ramos,” Kozi chimed as she patted the cushions beside her. “You must be cold with only that shirt to wear.”

She wasn’t wrong, and he took a seat beside her. Zhura was on his left, and Rashka was on his right now, sitting a few feet away on the couches. In the light of the fire, the Rask seemed all the more impressive and imposing. Their tanned skin reflected its wavering glow like polished bronze, the deep shadows that it cast seeming to pick out every beautiful contour of their bodies in lurid detail. And their eyes – glimmering like gold, always fixed on him.

He turned his gaze to the flames, peering into them as though they might hold some wisdom – some idea of how he should proceed. Ramos was on the cusp now, standing on the edge and looking down, needing only a nudge to take the plunge. Kozi knew it – he could feel her anticipation, so excited that she might as well be vibrating on the cushion beside him.

“In the bar,” Kozi began, leaning a little closer to him. “You told me that you wished to speak to Rashka. What did you want to say?”

Ramos glanced up at the Alpha, everything else in the room seeming to melt away until only the two of them remained in their little island of warm light. He couldn’t hold her gaze for too long – she was too intense, and he felt compelled to look away.

“I...” he began, the sound of his own rushing blood filling his ears. “I know that having me here and taking orders from someone half your size hasn’t been easy for you or your pack. The more I’ve learned about your way of life, the more I’ve come to realize that I could be doing more to help ... alleviate some of that tension. I think you care about the work as much as I do,” he added, growing bold enough to look her in the eyes again. “You’re trying so hard to stay in the program, and I want that for you too. I’m not suggesting that you’d fail without my help or that your resolve would ever waver – I just think that ... I could make all of our lives a little easier. For the good of the program,” he added. “If I’m the one to initiate, it’s okay, right?”

Rashka blinked back at him in surprise, her expression difficult to read, then she began to speak in that resonating voice.

“Is this something that Kozi has put you up to, or is this truly what you wish?”

“Kozi helped me understand, but she didn’t put me up to it,” he replied as he spared the Rask in question an appreciative glance. Kozi looked like she was watching the finale of her favorite soap opera, her eyes wide and her ears pricked up attentively, her tail waving back and forth on the cushions behind her. “I’d be lying if I said I knew what I was getting myself into, but ... you’ve been kind to me. I trust you.”

“I swore to uphold the Matriarch’s law, and I gave Orzi my oath,” Rashka replied sternly.

“You have broken no laws and violated no oaths if he gives himself to you willingly,” Kozi insisted, her voice wavering with excitement. “Please, my Alpha, let him sate you. Become yourself again.”

Rashka’s stoic facade cracked for a moment, just as it had that time in the tractor, Ramos seeing something hungry and carnal peering back at him from beneath her mask. She took a step closer, then another, Ramos shrinking back into the cushions as she came to tower over him. She was between him and the fire now, its glow silhouetting her, framing her impossibly toned figure beneath her insubstantial clothes.

“Do you have the constitution to take on three Rask?” she asked, her voice a low growl. “Know that if you do this, it cannot simply be undone. One does not shed their inhibitions as lightly as they shed their clothing.”

“She is saying that if you are in, you are in all the way,” Kozi explained with a delighted giggle. “No going back until she is sated.”

“Look at him, ready to flee on the eve of battle,” Zhura added with a dismissive wave of her hand. “The runt has neither the constitution nor the courage.”

“Yes I do,” he shot back, her taunting giving him a sudden rush of determination. “I mean ... I won’t know unless I try, right? What, do I have to sign a legal waiver? I said take me, so ... go ahead and take me!”

Rashka leaned down, suddenly face to face with him, his breath catching in his throat. Her skull alone was enormous, more akin to something like a lion or a bear than a person. He lurched as she cupped his face in her furry hand, holding it between her thumb and forefinger, her soft pads pressing against his cheeks. Her grip was gentle but firm, her sharp claws kept clear.

“Very well,” she rumbled – something between a purr and a snarl. “There are no parallel social structures in my bed chamber. If you are to be part of my pack for the night, then you serve at my pleasure. Do you understand?”

“I ... I understand,” he stammered, butterflies filling his belly. What was it that Kozi had said to him?

You do not yet know the joys of giving yourself completely to someone you trust and admire – of relinquishing control in all things.

Rashka paused there for a moment, but when he passed up his last chance to back out, she drew him in for a kiss. Her pillowy lips pressed against his, locking together despite their mismatched size, the tapered tip of her tongue probing his mouth experimentally. Ramos sucked in a sharp breath, his heart fluttering, a wonderful shiver sliding its way up his spine like a trailing fingertip.

He remembered a solid foot of glistening, pink flesh extending from Kozi’s mouth as she cleaned her fur in the crawler, but Rashka was considerate enough to only give him two or three inches. The slippery, warm muscle was still far larger than that of a human, seeming to fill his head as it slid against the flat of his tongue. It was prehensile, flexing and curling as it wound around its smaller counterpart like a snake, licking the inner lining of his cheeks and glancing his palate. There was no trace of the sharp barbs that he had seen, only wet satin. It tickled, each stroke flooding his brain with fizzling static, Rashka keeping her hold on him to prevent him from pulling away.

Instead, he felt compelled to lean into her, losing himself in the sensations. He could taste her saliva, feel her warmth, each lick imbued with the supreme confidence that Rashka radiated. In that moment, he was hers, her doting embrace burning that truth into his brain like a brand.

She broke off with a wet smack, Ramos watching her pull away through unfocused eyes, a glistening rope of their shared saliva still joining their lips. She released his face, then placed a massive hand on his chest, pushing him back into Kozi’s waiting arms.

“Finish him once or twice for me,” Rashka ordered, flopping back down into her seat on the couch. She crossed her long legs, getting comfortable as though some kind of show was about to begin. “I want him to last long enough that I can enjoy him.”

Kozi wrapped her arms around Ramos, her delighted giggling filling his ears as she pulled him into her chest, her soft bosom spilling over his shoulders through her silken clothes. She buried her feline nose in his hair, taking in a deep, satisfied breath.

“Finally,” she purred, her voice an excited whisper. “Did you think that I would not get my way in the end, runt?” She brought her hand to his head, running the sharp points of her claws across his scalp like the teeth of a comb, the unexpected sensation making him arch his spine. “Still dazed from Rashka’s kiss? She is skilled with her tongue – I should know.”

She leaned him back into the cushions, lying him almost prone, cradling him with one arm as she began to peel back his shirt. It was already open most of the way, Kozi’s eyes glittering in the firelight as she fiddled with the last few buttons, her expression that of someone opening a carefully wrapped gift. With his torso exposed, she ran her digits across his slick skin, pressing down just hard enough to leave red trails with her claws.

“Not a scar on you,” she whined, biting her lip as though the notion was unbearably alluring. “For a Rask, that would make you either the most obedient little runt to ever exist, or someone who has somehow avoided all correction. It is hard to decide which possibility excites me more.”

She pushed her nose into the nape of his neck, Ramos flinching as he felt the prick of her teeth, something rough and slimy scouring his skin. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, filling it with her tongue. Where Rashka had been gentle and considerate, Kozi was far more aggressive, piling fat coils of silken muscle into his mouth until his cheeks bulged outward. It was a kiss deeper and more ravenous than any he had experienced, her winding tip probing the back of his throat, mapping out every inch of him as it slithered and licked.

Only when she sensed that he was out of breath did she relent, stars dancing at the limits of Ramos’ vision as he watched inches of the pink organ slide back into her mouth, vanishing behind a cage of grinning carnivore teeth. He peered up at her, dazed again, his burning face making her exhale a contented sigh.

“You are going to pay for making me wait for this,” she added, more of a sordid promise than a threat.

She sat up, letting him drop to the pillows, reaching for the silver clasp that held her top together. It clattered to the floor as she tossed it aside and began to unwind the ream of gossamer fabric, what lay beneath gradually growing more visible with each layer that she removed. A few moments later, the long strip of cloth was floating to the couch, as light as a feather, Kozi cupping her chest with her furry forearm. Smirking at his anticipation, she pulled it away, her breasts bouncing subtly as they dropped.

Ramos had seen glimpses of them through her wet tank top and her revealing gown, but having them laid bare before him was something else. Kozi’s build was lean and athletic, her boobs just large enough to fill her cupped hand, but so was Ramos’ head. They were suited to high gravity, paradoxically firm and shapely despite their tangible heft, her caramel skin misted with droplets of perspiration that glittered like dew in the firelight. Her rosy nipples were already swelling with desire, and she lifted a hand to her chest, flesh as soft as putty spilling between her fingers as she kneaded.

“Feeling more confident about our decision, are we?” she asked with a pointed glance at the tent that was growing beneath his slacks. “You need not hesitate. Here...”

Kozi hooked an arm around him again, lifting him towards her, the quivering meat of her bosom filling his field of view. Her cleavage engulfed him as she pressed her breasts together with her biceps, burying his red face between them. Her skin was smoother than satin, made slick and shiny by her sweat, her fat softer and more inviting than even the silk cushions they were lounging on. She gave him no choice but to breathe deeply of her alluring scent, exertion and perfume mingling to addle his brain like a hit from some illicit narcotic.

Ramos reached up to plunge his hand into her breast, burying his fingers almost to the knuckle, feeling her velvet flesh bulge between them when he squeezed. It yielded like melting wax, then sprang back when he relented, Kozi tensing as he reached the firmer tissue beneath the cushion of fat. Overcome, he maneuvered a nipple into his mouth, hearing his partner hiss as he sealed his lips around it. She was so responsive, gripping him more tightly as he battered it with his tongue, her breath growing ragged.

“Xeema undersold you,” she growled, easing him away. She sat up, one of her boobs shining with his saliva, her labored breathing making her chest sway gently. “No claws, tongues as smooth as polished steel – absurd. I am going to find every conceivable use for you before the suns rise tomorrow.”

“You seem almost troubled, Kozi,” Rashka added with a dry chuckle. Ramos was once again reminded that they were being watched, Rashka and Zhura simply observing as their packmate made a trembling mess of him. “Surely nature’s endowments can be matched by skill and practice?”

“Zhura,” Kozi ordered, beckoning with a clawed finger. “Come put your Alpha’s theory to the test.”

Ramos sat up a little straighter, feeling a pang of apprehension as Zhura slid off her couch, stalking her way over to him like a tiger slinking through the underbrush. Her usual scowl was replaced with a smile far crueler than Kozi’s, giving him the impression that she saw this as an opportunity for revenge more than pleasure. She had been itching to teach him his place ever since he had arrived.

“Gentle with him, now,” Kozi purred as Zhura planted her furry hands to either side of him on the couch. “Make sure you leave some for the rest of us.”

Zhura leaned down to his level, her yellow eyes locked onto him, her tongue snaking forth to wet her lips like a hungry wolf.

“I have been looking forward to this,” she huffed, laughing to herself as she reached out to take him by the throat. Her grip was firm, but not quite tight enough to choke him, and she leaned in for the third kiss of the evening. He felt her force her tongue past his lips, her wet flesh gliding against his, the occasional sensation of her barbs catching him making him flinch. There was nothing gentle in her – nothing considerate – the Rask simply taking what she wanted. Ramos couldn’t help but feel vulnerable with her claws so close to his neck, and that only heightened his senses, every lash of her tongue imbued with her desire to dominate. Despite himself, those happy chemicals still coursed through his veins, his heart racing as she subjected him to her cruel embrace.

When she broke off, she caught his lower lip in her sharp teeth for a moment, giving it a tug.

“Rashka said to wring one out of you, so let us see how quickly I can have you writhing between my thighs where you belong, runt.”

“I had something else in mind,” Kozi said, curling a protective arm around Ramos again. She positioned herself almost behind him, leaning him back against the soft cushion of her breasts. “Down you go,” she chimed, pointing to the flagstones.

“W-what?” Zhura stammered, the flat bridge of her nose furrowing as she bared her teeth in a snarl. “I thought-”

“Get between his thighs where you belong and show him what a Rask can do with her tongue,” Kozi explained. “You are representing the territory, so watch the barbs, and make it good.”

“But ... I do not even know what it looks like,” Zhura protested, looking to Rashka for help. The Alpha simply waved her hand dismissively, unwilling to intercede.

“Uh, are you sure this is a good idea?” Ramos asked apprehensively. “I dunno how I feel about all those teeth and barbs, even when they’re not attached to someone who looks ready to shank me. Don’t make her do it if she doesn’t want to...”

“Well, that would be Zhura’s sordid little secret,” Kozi whispered. He tensed up as she drew his ear into her mouth, giving it a gentle nibble, one of her hands starting to slide down his torso. “She would never admit it unless she was a little drunk on wine or pleasure, but despite all her bluster, there is nowhere she would rather be than on her knees with someone else’s love dripping from her chin. Is that not right, Zhura?”

“That is ... how dare you,” she stammered, her angry face starting to flush pink. “Besides, he is a human. I would never stoop so low as to-”

“You will have to stoop rather low if you wish to reach him,” Kozi added, her furry fingers brushing Ramos’ pants. “He is not very tall.”

“This is ridiculous,” Zhura grumbled, dropping to her knees at the foot of the couch all the same.

Kozi began to disrobe Ramos, popping open the button on his slacks and hooking a claw through his zipper, pulling it down as Zhura watched intently.

“Look, you have frightened him,” Kozi giggled as she noted the diminished bulge beneath his shorts. “Do not fear,” she whispered, her voice like honey in his ear as she began to massage him through the thin fabric. “Zhura is skilled – I taught her myself back when Nozak was still with us. I would put her on her knees, take her by the hair, and have him fuck her throat until her eyes watered. You should have heard her mewl when I would bury my hand between her legs and whisper encouragement in her ear. My teaching methods were a little more... hands-on than yours.”

“Are you trying to humiliate me before the alien?” Zhura demanded, but Ramos could see that her angry expression had already softened. Someone had to end up at the bottom of the pack, and it seemed that Zhura was better suited to her position than he could ever have guessed.

Between Kozi’s groping and her lurid whispering, she soon encouraged him back to full mast, gripping his shaft through the fabric. She pulled back the elastic waistband, releasing him to throb in the firelight, leaning a little closer to get a better look.

“What am I expected to do with this?” Zhura complained, tilting her head. “It is covered in skin.”

Ramos winced as Kozi gripped his member in her furry hand, encompassing its length in her silky coat. She pulled back his foreskin, exposing his shining glans, much to Zhura’s surprise.

“Like this,” Kozi said. “The sensitive part is hidden.”

“Very well,” Zhura muttered, shuffling a little closer to him. “I feel as though you are too prepared for this...”

Ramos watched as she lowered her head, examining his alien organ for a moment, making him wonder what the Borealan guys were packing. He was still apprehensive about her sharp teeth and rough barbs, but his arousal was stronger, his heart starting to beat faster as he watched her extend a clear foot of slimy tongue. Shimmering with a sheen of saliva, the prehensile organ began to wind around his shaft like a tentacle, smearing warm drool on his skin wherever it made contact. It was constantly in motion, always flexing and shifting, like a living thing in its own right. He could see the barbs that the Rask used to clean their fur on the flat of her tongue, but she was careful to only make contact with the smooth, soft underside. It seemed to take some skill, and it was easy to understand how a novice might displease their partner.

Her grip tightened, the silken muscle squeezing him like a boa constrictor ensnaring its prey, guiding him towards her mouth. Her pursed lips slid over his tip, the sensation making him gasp, wet heat encompassing him. Zhura sucked as she took him a little deeper, inching her lips down his shaft, the fleshy lining of her inner cheeks sealing around his member. Her tongue jostled for space all the while, slithering across his manhood, mapping him out. The underside of her organ painted his head, its texture softer and more luxuriant than silk, Ramos feeling every vein as it dragged across his tender anatomy.

Zhura quickly realized where he was most receptive, swirling the length of wet muscle around his glans, making him lift his butt from the couch reflexively. She placed a firm hand on his hip and forced him back down, keeping him in place, those yellow eyes flashing him an angry look.

“I think she wishes for you to be still,” Kozi giggled, making a lazy circle on his belly with the tip of her claw as she watched.

Zhura took him a little deeper, her tongue slithering back into her mouth, gliding against his shaft on a layer of her slick saliva. He couldn’t even keep track of its movements – it was too overwhelming – like being trapped in a tube of damp, writhing muscle.

She began to use the agile tip of her organ to lick and stroke his glans, painting it with practiced finesse, sliding it beneath his foreskin as she made maddening laps around his cock. Just as Kozi had promised, there was no hint of her barbs, and she kept her sharp teeth mercifully clear. Zhura even seemed to be getting into it now, her long lashes fluttering as she doted on him, suddenly intent on doling out as much spine-tingling pleasure as she could muster.

“What do you think?” Kozi whispered, giving his ear another teasing bite. “Did I train her well?”

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned as Zhura sent his head spinning with a quick flurry of licks. He felt like he was melting in her mouth, assailed from every angle by wonderful sensations, every glance of her cheeks and stroke of her tongue sending another throb of pleasure coursing through him.

“I think he approves, Zhura,” Kozi called down to her packmate. She turned her attention back to Ramos as she lounged beside him on the pillows, lightly trailing her claws up his stomach, smirking as he bucked and flinched. “You have never been with two people at once, have you?” she purred. She was enjoying every moment of this, as though it was all happening solely for her personal amusement. Her fuzzy hand came to rest on his cheek, and she turned his face towards her, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Focus on me, runt.”

She leaned in for a kiss, their lips joining, her pace slower and more sensual now. Each embrace that he had been subjected to was different from the last, conveying entirely different intentions – different desires. Like she was trying to write her name on him, the tip of Kozi’s tongue danced around inside his mouth, her touch just as light and delicate as that of her claws. Coupled with Zhura’s enthusiastic efforts below his belt, he felt like he was floating on a cloud, his focus torn between the two women. It was a scenario that he would never have dared to even imagine.

“Is it overwhelming?” she crooned as she broke off, still cradling his cheek. He nodded, and her lips curled into a smug smile. “I cannot imagine only ever sharing a bed with one person. I would love to throw you to a sandship full of thirsty Rask sailors who have just made berth – they would toss you around like a pack of caged hounds fighting over a fresh bone. I suppose we shall have to make do with what we have.”

She filled his mouth with her tongue again, her exaggerated sighs and gentle moans filling his ears in kind, manufactured to titillate. He reached up to cup one of her breasts, feeling its butter-soft flesh overflow his palm, her next grunt of pleasure far more sincere. Ramos could do things that the Rask couldn’t with their razor claws, and he was starting to realize it. He trapped her swollen nipple between his fingers, giving it a teasing squeeze, her muscles growing more defined in the glow of the fire as she tensed.