Marooned
Copyright© 2026 by PoBoy
Chapter 5
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 5 - After his freighter's drive malfunctions, Luke Ripley lands on a deserted planet to wait for rescue. When an alien war intrudes on his solitude, he meets a new partner. Together, they try to escape before the enemy can get to them. Rescue is two years away, but the Bugs are much closer.
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Military War Science Fiction Aliens Space BDSM MaleDom Light Bond Spanking Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie First Masturbation Oral Sex Squirting
The next thing to wake me up was the alarm at 08:00. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and went to check on Thivkari, who was poking around with the interface on the bulkhead display. “I don’t think you can get the text to display in Tsch’kal. The ship’s displays are controlled by the ship’s computer, and it only knows human languages.”
“Karthok,” she said, “My tongue is called Karthok. I’m trying to see if I can route the audio through the translator and then back. I can get Karthok audio from the computer, but not from the display on the wall. It’s frustrating.” She turned it off. “I’ll work on it later.”
In the galley, I used a can of powdered eggs to make eggs and fried cutlets of a Teldarswine. Well, it looked close enough to a pig, but tasted more like poultry. I waited for Thivkari to bring up our alliance, but it didn’t happen. I spent the day hunting while she taught herself about the survival computer and the ship’s display systems. For dinner, I built a fire outside and grilled the Teldarbeast steaks. I had harvested some starchy roots that were supposed to be like potatoes, except they tasted nothing like potatoes. They were kind of bitter like a turnip, but had a sweetness that kept it from being overpowering.
Over the course of the next weeks, our days repeated the same. She figured out how to get the bulkhead display to do what she wanted, excitedly telling me about how she was able to access the ship computer from the survival computer, and then use the bulkhead display as a kind of remote screen. The translator would overlay translated text on top of words in the video, and would output translated audio. She could now watch TV and movies that were in the ship’s entertainment library. I cautioned her that while most of it was a good example of human culture, some of it was to be interpreted as satire, and to come to me with any questions. She was able to move around better, too, and didn’t need any more pain medication. She periodically had me check the wound on her belly. It was healing, but would leave a jagged looking scar.
Three weeks after her ship crashed, we sat down to eat breakfast. The powdered eggs were almost gone, and I was contemplating trying to domesticate some of the local birds when Thivkari said, “We need to talk about the clan alliance you proposed. What is your clan name?”
I stopped eating and set my fork down. “Humans don’t really have clans, but my family name is Ripley.” She nodded and tapped something into the survival computer.
“This needs to be formally done. There are traditions that need to be honored. I’ve spent the last day checking the translation to ensure it’s as accurate as possible.” She pushed a button on the display, and the status light on the back began blinking, indicating a recording was being made. She then began to read from the display. “The mistress of Clan Garmath proposes an alliance to Clan Ripley for our mutual benefit. To secure this alliance, we would mate our daughter Thivkari to your son Lucas. As our daughter is the last of her clan, we ask for no holdings.” She pushed a button on the display, and the red light turned off. She looked at me. “What you proposed earlier isn’t how it works. An alliance must be proposed by the clan mistress. In this case, it is me. I’m sure you have questions.”
“Yeah. I have lots of questions. Let’s start with why.”
“Why? You wanted an alliance to formalize,” she motioned between the two of us, “us working together and living together to survive.”
“Yes. I proposed that because you were upset about needing my help.”
She nodded. “I saw you as a male from a neutral clan. If you were from a rival clan, I would have fought you as best as I could. When I believed you to be unmateable, I ... I decided to treat you like an animal, something completely outside of my social structure. But my mind couldn’t reconcile that view with how you treated me, so I chose to see you as a member of my own clan.”
“Ok, is that how you still see me?”
She shook her head. “Now that I know you are mateable, I have ... I took time to examine how you behaved. I believe that you would be a good mate. I am an alien to you. I am a stranger. You took me in to your home. You gave me medical attention. You helped me honor my clan by sending them to the gods. You didn’t have to do any of this for me. You asked for nothing in return.”
“I asked for you to fix the ship.”
She shook her head. “You only asked when I pointed out that you don’t need me. You have enough supplies to last until rescue comes. I will try and fix the ship, but only so that we can leave sooner. If you had left me to die, your situation would be no different. It might even be better, since you would have all of the supplies you used to treat me.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m better with you. Humans are social creatures. Being alone would have worn at my sanity. Having another person around means that if I fall and hurt myself, I won’t die. I can call you for help-”
She cut me off, “I don’t want to debate what you think I’m worth. I’m just pointing out that you helped me when, from my perspective, you didn’t have to. That says a lot about your character, and shows qualities that I would find desirable in a mate. You asked what your duties as a mate would be, and protecting your clan is at the top of the list. From my sight, that’s what you’ve done. So, informally, I want to ask if you want to be my mate.”
I stared at her. “I want to make sure I understand what the implications are. In human culture, we choose a romantic partner. The couple spends time together to get to know one another and determine if they share the same goals, beliefs, and values. If they can get along and resolve conflicts. That part is important, because there will ALWAYS be conflicts. If you never argue with your partner, then something is wrong. What’s important is how well you can resolve those differences. If they determine that they are compatible, and they want to, pair up? Bond? Remain together for the rest of their lives, maybe? They decide to get married, which is a legal joining of those two people. Is that the kind of arrangement that you mean by mating?”
She nodded. “That’s part of it. Being mated means that you have responsibilities to your mate, you children, and your clan. From what I’ve seen, you will have no problems meeting those obligations.”
“Right. There’s, um, another part of being married. There’s ... well, everyone is different, but in general terms, married people have sex.”
“Yes. Oh!” she gasped and looked away. “I didn’t consider. That you ... I’m alien. You wouldn’t find me physically appealing.” She covered her mouth with her hands. “I am sorry. I will delete the recording of the proposal-”
“Stop!” I cut her off. “You’re attractive. You’re ... I mean, I’ve seen you naked, and you’ve got a very nice body. Your face is beautiful. You’re ... um, yeah. I think you’re physically appealing.” She looked at me. “What I was concerned about is what YOU want. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me sex.”
She looked confused. “I don’t understand. It’s a part of being mated.”
“Ok. Let me explain human culture. In our society, marriage is not necessarily a precursor to having sex.”
“I know this. I have been watching TV programs.”
“Right. So, do you understand that in some social situations, where a man helps a woman out, he may feel that she owes him sex, or she may feel indebted to him, and might want to repay that debt-”
“No!” she said, the translator losing the harshness of her reply. “I want to be clear that I am not interested in a ‘One Night Stand’ or a casual sexual relationship. I want to be your mate. You are desirable to me. When we leave this planet, I want to remain with you.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “Ok.” I wondered if the Federation of Human Worlds would respect our marriage. I also wondered if I was stupid for agreeing to marry a woman I met less than a month ago.
“Tsch’kal mate for life. I assume you have no current mate?”
“Uh, no. I’ve been single for a while.”
“Good. That will make me clan mistress. I will handle negotiations with any potential additional mates.”
That stunned me. “Additional mates?”
She nodded. “To strengthen our clan. Most Tsch’kal men will never have more than two or three. The clans master for Tsch’kal Prime has six, and some consider him foolish.”
“Humans don’t really have multiple wives. I mean, there have been times that we did, but the government only recognizes ... it doesn’t matter.” I took a deep breath. Was I really going to do this? “Ok. It will be my responsibility to petition the Federation government to recognize our marriage, and to recognize you as...” I stopped and held up a finger, then pointed at the survival computer. “We observe the formalities and honor the traditions and your government will recognize that we are mated?”
She looked at me like I was an idiot. Definitely wife material. “Yes.”
“Which means that the Federation will recognize it. Which means that you can be processed through immigration to become a Federation citizen. If you want. At the very least, we can get you a visa. Do you have identity documents?”
She nodded. “On my ship. I don’t understand, what does this have to do-”
“I’m making sure that you can remain with me.” What the fuck was I doing? It sounded a lot like I was agreeing to marry a woman I’ve known for three weeks. For life. My heart raced. Over the past few weeks, I had been observing her as well. Once she had started feeling better, she was eager to help out with anything. She wanted to learn how to hunt game, which meant learning how to shoot the rifles. She wanted to learn how to clean and skin our kills, how to butcher the meat and prepare it so it tasted better. After I showed her the laundry compartment, which was little more than an alcove on deck 2 with a unit that washed and dried clothes and a cabinet full of detergent, she did our laundry. I found that a bit weird, as I had ALWAYS done my own laundry. She also had a sense of humor that I suppose must be common to all engineers. Maybe it was taught in engineer school? When I asked her if she wanted to try a traditional human breakfast one morning, she asked if the traditional humans were raised on a farm, or if they were caught in the wild. That was the kind of joke Richard would have made.
“Thivkari, we don’t have to do this. What if it turns out that you hate me? What if the way I blow my nose infuriates you? Or the way I leave the toilet seat up?” That last wasn’t a chance. I lived in a house with three foster sisters and a foster mother who was VERY vocal about the toilet seat. Still... “What if our cultures clash? What if the Tsch’kal way of looking at things isn’t compatible with the human way of looking at things? It sounds like Tsch’kal society doesn’t have a concept of divorce.”
She tilted her head in thought. “Then we will need to get better at conflict resolution.” Well THAT was pragmatic. If we have problems, we will need to learn to fix them. She was meticulous about communication. If the translator took too long, she practically grilled me about exact meanings, tapping commands in to update the thing’s database or whatever. The only time I heard her say unkind things was when she talked about the Bugs. She HATED the Yishkak.
“I don’t ... I want you to be happy. I worry that if we do this, sometime in the future, you will become unhappy, and it will be my fault for agreeing to this.”
She put her hand on my arm. “That is ... you are considerate for thinking of it, but this is a decision for the both of us.” That was ... I remembered my parents acting like that before they were killed. The little touches. The look on her face when she looked at me. I wanted it, too.
“I agree.”
“Right, so it would be just as much my own fault if I become unhappy.”
“No. Well, yes, but, I mean that I agree to be your mate.”
She took a deep breath, then nodded and tapped a command on her survival computer. My own beeped. “Read that response once I’m recording.”
The red light started flashing. My heart hammered in my chest as I read out loud, “As the sole member of Clan Ripley, I speak for the clan without a mistress. I accept Clan Garmath’s proposal of alliance with the mating of their daughter Thivkari to our son Lucas. As she is the last of Clan Garmath, we will provide no holdings. May this union be fruitful and produce many strong heirs so that Clan Ripley will be prosperous.” The light stopped flashing again. I looked at her. “Wait here. We have our own traditions that ... well, they’re not mandatory. We should still honor them. I’ll be right back.” I ran to my cabin and opened the safe. Inside was a box with my medals and commendations, and another, older box, that had my parents’ rings in it. I grabbed my mother’s bridal set and pulled the engagement ring off, and went back down to the galley, my heart racing even more. I enlisted in the Marine Corps as a spur of the moment thing. I mean, I told the recruiter I wanted to enlist on an impulse, and just stuck with it. Every swear in. All of the after school PT. The tests, the trips to the entrance processing center. Once I decided to enlist, I had been all in. I knelt in front of Thivkari. I was all in. “Thivkari of Clan Garmath. Will you marry me?” I held out the ring.
“Yes?” She looked confused. Of course she wouldn’t know what to do. I took her left hand and put the ring on her ring finger. It was a little loose. “It’s very pretty,” she said, looking at the diamond.
“It was my mother’s. My social worker made sure that my parent’s wedding rings were returned to me after I left foster care. My recruiter may have been a lying bastard, but he made sure I was able to hold on to them through basic training.” I stood up. “It’s a promise that we’ll get married. Tradition. It’s loose on your finger, so I would suggest wearing it on a chain around your neck until we can get it sized to fit since the fabricator in engineering won’t. Or keep it in your cabin.” She took it off and slipped it in her pocket. “What are the next steps?”
“Well, normally, we would gather the clans and hold a feast, then the mistresses of both clans would escort us to a room to mate. When we finish, we emerge, and everybody cheers, and we are mated.”
“Wait, the proposal is accepted, we throw a party, have sex, and we’re married?”
“Yes. Usually there is some time for negotiation, and to actually gather the clans together. What is your tradition?”
“First, we file paperwork with the government declaring that we are to be getting married. Then, there’s a big ceremony. It takes months of planning to arrange, and is very expensive. Family and friends are invited, we exchange vows in front of an officiant who has legal authority. He or she asks each of us if we take the other to be our husband or wife, to remain together in sickness and in health, richer or poorer, for better or worse, for as long as we both live, we exchange rings, and then we are pronounced married. Then we throw a party where our family and friends give us gifts. The officiant signs the paperwork from the government and sends it in, and when they send us back the license, we are OFFICIALLY married. Or, we save a ton of money by going to a courthouse and having a judge preside over a much smaller ceremony. He signs the paperwork and files it with the government. The gist of it is that in human culture, your marriage is presided over by a third party. As captain of a ship, I am one of the people with the legal authority to preside over a wedding. I can’t preside over my own wedding, though.”
She scrunched up her face. “That’s a lot.”
“Oh, the ceremony has its own traditions. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”
“Why something blue?”
“Because it rhymes with new.” I went to the refrigerator and pulled a large haunch of meat that I had butchered yesterday. It was soaking in brine that I had added herbs and spices to. “Why don’t I go throw this on to cook over a fire for our feast?”
She nodded. “Or, we could just go to your cabin?” The meat went back in the fridge.
“Yes, let’s do that.”
“Are you eager?”
I wrapped my arms around her, leaned down, and kissed her. Her lips were soft, and the fur on her face kind of tickled. I suppose I now know what it’s like to kiss a man with a beard. She returned the kiss, softly at first, then with insistence. Breaking it, I said, “I forgot that bit. When they pronounce us married, we kiss.” Taking her by the hand, I led her up to deck 2, then picked her up. “Yet another human tradition. The groom carries the bride across the threshold.” She giggled.
“I like the kissing, but why this?”
“I don’t know. I think it has something to do with entering the next stage of life together?” Being captain had its privileges. My cabin was bigger, and so was the bed. Three adults could comfortably fit on it. I set her down and started taking off my clothes. She sat down on my bed and watched. “You know that you need to be undressed for this, too.”
“I would like to watch. I’ve seen, well, Tsch’kal anatomy before, but...” she gestured at me. “I only saw you briefly.” She blushed again. My underwear hit the deck, and I stood in front of her. Her eyes locked on my groin. “Can I...?” she asked. I stepped forward, took her hand, and placed it on my dick.” Tsch’kal males have a,” she patted my lower belly with her other hand, “pouch.” She glared at the translator, which took too long.
“Sheath?” I asked. “Some mammals on Earth have a penis sheath.”
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