Page 66 of Tempted by Celestial Bodies

Oh. My stars.

My fingertips brush the ridges where their scales dip into one of the slashes, stopping when they bump into the vertical barring sealing it off. “How do—?” My question cuts off when the barrier begins to shift, parting into thin protrusions, and I realize with fascination and outright horror that they aremore teeth. “What in the endless celestial fuck, Nuj. Holy shit.”

“Don’t worry, Chance,” Nuj purrs, apparently satisfied with my reaction rather than offended. “I won’t hurt you.”

But theycould.

I proceed slowly, despite being obscenely excited to explore their unknown. The teeth recede, sucked into the surrounding flesh and leaving a bluish opening, a dark spot in the otherwise iridescent swirling pink of their skin. Pushing forth, I’m surprised by Nuj’s internal temperature; their scaled skin isn’t cold externally, but within feels like lying underwater. Undulating pressure, cool and surreal. Thick wetness seeps from pulsing walls, squeezing my fingers then letting go.

It dawns upon me that I am hand-fucking another species’organs.

The thrill is so powerful I catch Nuj’s mouth with my own, plunging my tongue between their lips, even though I can’t fuck them like they did me. Obliging, they wrap the tip of their tongue around mine, squeezing like they’re sucking. I moan against the lingering taste of my own come. As we kiss, I ease my fingers farther into their chest. A high, wheedling sound, unlike any I’ve heard Nuj make before, reaches my ears like music. My hand slides in up to the last row of knuckles, and Nuj’s head hits my shoulder.

“Should I—” I demonstrate, pushing my fingers in and out. “Or…” I don’t know what other motions to use as an example, too worried of messing up with my hand halfway inside their thoracic cavity.

Nuj grunts and rolls their spine so my fingers slip farther inside, saying something in the ?iet language that doesn’t translate. After a scorching pause, they grit out, “Just move them,” voice even more gravelly than usual.

Okay.

I cautiously roll my fingertips in a wave against the bottom wall of their opening and shiver when they clench around me, like a pussy but flat and cold and nothing like a pussy at all, actually.

Emboldened by the positive response, I leverage the pads of my fingers to press upward, fucking in deep, and clasp the back of Nuj’s head when they jerk and moan.I continue to try different things, most of them mindless, twisting and stroking and, most importantly, never slowing the steady stream of movement. They seem to prefer depth, so I try not to pull out while getting creative with gestures.

It doesn’t take long for me to conclude that I can do better than this.

I unclasp my fingers from Nuj’s swanlike neck, dragging my palm down their chest before plunging my left hand inside their other opening to match the right. Blue fluid squishes out between my fingers, dripping down my wrist, staining the white fabric of my uniform shirt. I can’t push the sleeves up, so I ignore it.

Kissing them again, I work both my hands, sometimes in unison and sometimes individually, riveted on the challenge of deciphering their vocal responses. Most of what they vocalize isn’t translated, which is fine. This is more primal, me fucking their chest until my elbows are wet while mouthing at their smooth scales, licking the sharp blade of their jaw. They mewl when I bite down on the long column of their neck, and their ribcage heaves when I keep descending.

The cold blue slick tastes like water, slightly tangy. It isn’t bad in the least, so when Nuj arches their back with a desperate groan, I lean in with more purpose, tonguing the upper length of their slit. I shift the fingers of my right hand just far enough to the side to allow me to get my mouth onto them properly, sucking along their opening. I can feel faint rows of bumps where their protective teeth hide, capable of snapping closed at any moment should someone prove themself a threat.

But not me. All I want is to move my left hand in and out, rounding the shape to provide a better stretch, while the right fingers flex and rub, leaving space for indigo slick to coat my lips and chin. Nuj’s tongue passes through breathless lips, the tip tracing the shell of my ear so I gasp against them, choking on a mouthful of thick fluid. My arms tremble, not helped by Nuj’s ministrations, but as I switch my mouth to pleasure the left opening, my right hand creates a waving undulation; palm down, pressure firm and direct and unyielding and?—

Nuj muffles a screech against my throat, their devolving control finally allowing their teeth to nick my skin, but I’m unbothered by the pinpricks of pain. I push down as hard as I can, rubbing steadily as they ride out their orgasm, insides tightening around me so snugly that all I can do is push back. Eventually Nuj’s thoracic muscles relax, and they nuzzle my temple before slowly drawing away, leaving a string of thick mucous connecting my hands to their swollen, throbbing openings.

I watch the teeth close, and shiver.

We end up slumped side-by-side on the floor, both shaking and wracked by the occasional twitch. Our mutual affliction presents an interesting counterpoint to our physical differences, the way Nuj has to angle themself to avoid crushing their tail against the wall, their chest moving in heaving gasps despite their lips being closed.

Eventually Nuj shifts, humming. “I drew blood,” they inform me, not sounding pleased about it. My wet fingers drift to the tiny punctures I barely feel, only for Nuj to smack them away. “Wash first,” they scold, only to shamelessly lick the beads of blood drying with the sweat on my neck.

“I’ve got wipes in my desk,” I mumble, not inclined to struggle or argue.

Nuj rises with a groan, taking a moment to ensure their feet are steady before drifting to my desk. The floor is made of a low-impact material, rubbery with a grip to prevent slips, and I can hear the quiet scrape of claws over the ridges.

Raising my voice, I tell them, “Second drawer on the right,” but still hear multiple drawers being opened. A small, delirious smile tugs at my wet lips as I listen to Nuj snooping through my personal items. After they allowed me to manually fuck their internal organs, it hardly feels like an invasion of privacy.

Eventually Nuj returns with the wipes, a guileless smile on their face. They clean me up with surprising tenderness, wiping my body all over from my oversensitive cunt to the spaces between my blue-tinged fingers. Hopefully the pigment fades with a much-needed shower, otherwise I’ll have some extremely awkward explaining to do.

“Well,” Nuj says finally, nudging me to my feet—which I allow, though reluctantly. “I’m impressed, Chance Landfall.”

I sway, but they don’t let me fall. “What’s impressed you?” I can’t help a bit of fishing for praise. The denied promotion is all the sting my pride can handle for one-day cycle.

A sawing laugh explodes from Nuj’s chest, suggesting they know exactly what I’m doing, but they oblige anyway: “In addition to your exceptional negotiation skills, that was the best I’ve ever been fucked by another species. Commendable professionalism, Mr. Landfall.”

“You consider thatprofessionalism?”

Nuj only sighs in contentment.

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