Page 29 of Space for More

So much for that idea. I close the channel and resign myself to enduring the rest of the lecture. Maybe by the time it’s over, I’ll have come up with a plan for how to deal with the intolerable arousal that’s plaguing me.

I’mable to make it out of the lecture and back to my hotel without embarrassing myself, but as soon as the door to my hotel suite slides closed, my Goddess-forsaken cocks extrude so fast it’s almost painful. After two very unsatisfactory masturbation sessions in the shower, I’m still on edge, but at least my cocks have gone back inside me.

It’s getting later in the night cycle, the artificial sky dark and the neon lights of Sagittarius district pouring in through the floor to ceiling windows of my suite. As I watch the multitude of aliens weaving through the walkways below, enjoying the nightlife the district has on offer, an idea emerges.

I need to fuck someone. Preferably tonight. Relieve some of the pressure so I can stop thinking with my cocks. My emotions and body’s demands are so tangled up that I don’t trust my judgment anymore. I desperately want to believe that Mezli’s serious about giving our mating another chance, but is that real or is it just the bonding hormones talking? And where does Eden fit into things? It shouldn’t be possible to want another person as much as my mate, and yet I do.

So yes, I need to find someone to sleep with so I can purge some of the arousal in my system and have any chance of figuring out what to do.

It’s simple—in theory. With millions of aliens residing on Spire, there has to be at least a few thousand willing to sleep with me. I’ll start at a nearby nightclub, but if that fails, there’s always a brothel. I only wish that I didn’t feel ill at the thought of sleeping with a stranger.

I dress in the most flattering shirt I brought with me that’s casual enough to wear to a bar. I dislike the lack of sleeves, but atleast the black coloring obscures most of my body shape. The pants aren’t much better—I purchased them in a moment of rebellion against mother’s constant “helpful advice” to wear the flowing garments in style on Nexxa Itat. They cling to my hips and thighs and will make any extrusions obvious. I can only hope that it’ll serve as flattery to anyone I’m trying to seduce, rather than a means to call station security on the pervert who can’t keep his cocks inside his slit.

As I wind my way through the walkways crowded with aliens enjoying the night cycle, the threat of getting hard wanes as nerves set in. I’ve never done this before. I haven’t had sex in over four years. Why did I think this was a good idea?

I locate a nightclub, but the line to get in is daunting. At least a dozen scantily clad aliens with pristine grooming chatter excitedly as they wait their turn to enter. Maybe I should pick a less popular location… somewhere that doesn’t have as pretty a clientele base. I could bribe my way in—I certainly don’t lack the credits. But that won’t solve the disparity between my attractiveness and the rest of the partiers.

When I back away to remove myself from the line, a startled voice chirps behind me. “Watch it!”

I turn and see an aespian, their light pink carapace covered in holographic glitter that sparkles in the neon glow of the club sign. “Apologies,” I murmur, averting my eyes as I start to step away.

Their hand darts out and grabs my arm, stopping me. “Where do you think you’re going?” they warble out in a melodic duotone.

“I was just leaving to meet friends elsewhere. If you’ll excuse me…” I attempt to pull away, but they dig their fingers in harder.

“You’re not going anywhere yet.”

Shit. The aespian’s eyes narrow, and I brace myself for insults or worse, a claim that I injured them and a demanded bribe for theirsilence on the matter. I’ve heard of many hapless nobles getting caught in such a scheme. Now I feel like an ass for laughing at their carelessness.

A striking seladin wearing a neon green tunic to match their cybernetic eye watches us in amusement over the aespian’s shoulder. “Don’t mind Gillea. That’s her way of flirting. She dated a vuloi for too long and forgot that it’s not polite to just grab strangers if you’re attracted to them.”

My eyes drop to the hand on my arm, then move back to the aespian’s face in disbelief. “It is?”

Her antenna twitch, then droop slightly as she releases my arm and her mouth stretches into her species’ equivalent of a smile. “It is. Hope I didn’t scare you off. I didn’t want to lose my shot with such a…robustnexxit. I love big.”

The seladin’s natural eye narrows. “That’s rude, even for you, Gil.”

Her wings flutter in embarrassment. “I didn’t—that’s not! Ugh, nevermind,” Gillea says with a grimace and scurries out of line in a huff.

I nod my thanks to the seladin, catching their cybernetic eye scanning me idly as they keep their glowing white eye on my face.

They give me a fanged, apologetic smile. “Sorry about her. She means well, but doesn’t understand that most people don’t like being blatantly told they’re someone’s fetish.”

“It’s fine. Just unexpected. I can’t say I’ve ever been sought out for my looks,” I say with a sigh. My best option for finding someone interested in me just stormed off, as belittling as sleeping with her would’ve been.

“Surely you’re joking,” the seladin says, putting a hand on their hip as they blatantly appraise me. “Handsome face, nice arms,pretty eyes, strong hands. I can see the appeal, even without a fetish.”

I blink back at them in surprise. This seladin is roguishly good-looking, with a hint of danger in the way they hold themself. Tall and leanly muscled with a sharp jaw and elegant glowing markings that compliment their charcoal skin. No one I’d ever expect to look at me twice.

They’re objectively very attractive, even if I don’t feel the pull of arousal like I do with Eden or Mezli. “Is that so?” I ask, still wary that I’m misinterpreting their intent.

“Well, I do have my share of fetishes, but I can’t tell if you’re a good fit for them just by looking at you,” they say with a devilish grin.

Goddess, they’re flirting with me. A surge of nerves hits me at the thought that my plan to have casual sex tonight might actually work. I swallow them down and smile back at the seladin. “Buy me a drink and maybe you’ll find out.”

17

I’m skeptical when Mezli brings me back to her place to find something for me to wear. She’s petite and has four arms, with small perky breasts, while I’m round and thick, with enormous tits that need an industrial-strength bra to keep them in check. But she digs out a box from the back of her closet and dumps it out on her bed, then backs away and gestures down at the pile.

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