Chapter 7: Broody
The quiet hiss of scales on flooring pulled me from sleep. Not Teela’s soft, glooping sounds.This was drier, more deliberate. I opened my eyes to the soft bioluminescence of our chamber. Teela was a dense, contented mound beside me, her form so opaque now she was nearly solid, a sleeping silhouette of cerulean curves. The door to the main room was ajar.
I slipped from the nest, the cool air raising goosebumps on my skin. The thick scent of last night’s exertions – cinnamon, musk, and my own spent salt – still hung in the air, but underneath it was a cleaner, sharper smell.Water.Soap.I peered through the doorway.
Slytherine was in the center of the living space, her back to me, illuminated by the dimmed overhead panels. She had shed every piece of her armor. The bronze plates and leather loincloth were stacked neatly on my usual chair. Her serpentine body was coiled in a loose heap, and she was using a damp cloth, retrieved from our fresher, to methodically wipe down her scales. The motion was ritualistic, caring. Each stroke followed the pattern of her emerald and obsidian plates, polishing them to a low gleam.The view of her nude was… arresting. From behind, the powerful taper of her back, the elegant line of her spine descending to where it merged seamlessly with her serpent half, was a masterpiece of alien anatomy. Her black hair, loose and waterfall-straight, clung to the damp skin of her shoulders and back.She must have heard my breath catch. Her head turned, just slightly, the line of her jaw sharp in the low light. “You are awake,” she stated, her voice morning-rough, that smoky purr even more pronounced.
“Yeah,” I said, stepping fully into the room. “Didn’t want to… interrupt.”
She turned then, facing me, and I saw it all. The powerful, graceful architecture of her upper body was unadorned perfection. Her breasts were heavy and full, the shape achingly human yet fundamentally other. They lacked nipples; instead, the area where her armored bikini had rested was covered in a patch of softer, paler skin, the colour of primrose, smooth and seemingly seamless with the rest of her golden torso.It was a stunning vulnerability.
She saw me looking and didn’t shield herself.Her slitted pupils dilated slightly.“Cleansing is necessary. Your output is… copious. My systems are still processing the surplus.”
A flush of pride, warm and stupid, spread through my chest.“Sorry. Not sorry.”
A sound escaped her – not quite a laugh, but a deep, vibrating chuff. “There is nothing to apologize for. It was a worthy inundation.” She finished with the cloth, draped it over the edge of the sink in the kitchen nook, then settled back into her coils, a picture of relaxed, unselfconscious power.“Teela slumbers deeply. You have fortified her well.”
“It’s what we do,” I said, leaning against the doorframe. The silence stretched, comfortable but charged. My eyes kept tracing the lines of her, the powerful coils, the soft pale patches on her chest, the memory of the incredible, milking pressure of her cloaca. My cock, always responsive, began to thicken and harden, a low, familiar ache stirring.
She watched the change, her tongue flicking out once.“The sight triggers a reflex. Interesting.”
I coughed, a little embarrassed at my own transparency.“Kind of hard to hide. And after last night… well, the memory’s pretty fresh.” I pushed off the doorframe, taking a tentative step into the room. “Look, if you’re… I mean, if you’re still processing, I get it. But if you wanted… I could… inseminate you again.”
There it was.Blunt.A little clumsy.Slytherine’s head tilted. For a long moment, she just studied me, and I saw not the fierce predator of last night, but something more considered, almost curious. Then, that faint blush tinted her golden cheeks again, a dusky rose-gold creeping under the surface.It was astonishingly humanizing.
“Your directness is refreshing,” she said.“No posturing. Just… offer.” She shifted her coils, the heavy muscles rearranging with a soft rustle. She eased back, creating a space before her, and presented herself. The vertical slit of her cloaca, relaxed and slightly plumped from last night’s use, was visible between the smooth-scaled folds. “I will not fight you this time.The contest is concluded.You proved your endurance.” Her molten gold eyes held mine. “Take your time.Explore.My biology is… available for your study.”
An invitation. Not a challenge.The shift was profound.
I moved to her, kneeling on the floor before her magnificent, sprawling form.Up close, without the adrenaline of competition, I could really see her. I started with my hands, placing them lightly on the firm curve of her serpentine side. The scales were smooth, dry, and surprisingly warm to the touch, radiating a constant, desert-like heat. I traced the patterns of emerald and black, feeling the powerful muscles beneath.
My gaze drifted up to the pale patches on her chest.“May I?”
She gave a slow, regal nod. “You may.”
I leaned in, bringing my face close to that primrose-soft skin. It smelled different from the rest of her – lighter, with a hint of something floral, almost like vanilla orchid. I pressed my lips gently against it.It was velvety, giving slightly under my mouth. Slytherine inhaled sharply, a sibilant intake of breath. I kissed her there, slowly, feeling the texture, and she released a low, vibrating hum of pleasure.
Encouraged, I let my hands roam up her sides, feeling the defined muscles of her abdomen, the dramatic sweep of her waist.I leaned further, finding her mouth with mine.Her lips were softer than I expected. The kiss was cautious at first, a meeting of utterly different species. Then she responded, her mouth moving against mine with a slow, alien curiosity. I felt the sharp points of her fangs behind her lips, a dangerous reminder of her nature. She growled softly, a frisson of frustration in the sound.“Your skin,” she murmured against my lips.“It resists. I cannot… mark.”
“Invulnerability,” I breathed, kissing her again. “Comes with drawbacks.”
She answered by pushing her tongue into my mouth.It was long, deft, and unmistakably forked. The dual tips explored me with a shocking intimacy, tracing my teeth, the roof of my mouth. It was wildly other, and intensely erotic. I let her, my own hands cradling the strong lines of her jaw, my fingers tangling in the silk of her black hair.
The kiss deepened, turned hungry. Her arms, strong and human, wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me closer against her upper body.The heat of her was immense, enveloping.
When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing hard.Her golden eyes were dark, pupils wide. “Study,” she commanded, her voice thick.“Continue.”
I obeyed. My mouth traveled down the column of her throat, tasting salt and spice. My hands explored the powerful swell of her breasts, the soft give of the pale skin there making her arch and hiss. I learned her with lips and tongue and hands – the sensitive ridge where her ear would be, the powerful line of her collarbone, the fascinating dichotomy of hard scale and soft, vulnerable flesh.
All the while, my cock, heavy and insistently erect, brushed against the warm, smooth scales of her lower body. She felt it, and her coils shifted, adjusting, opening the way.The moment hung between us, thick and expectant. I positioned myself, the broad, dense head of me nudging against her entrance. It was already slick from her own arousal, a clear, faintly metallic fluid easing the way.
As I began to push inside, I looked into her eyes.“Last night… you said oviposition. You lay eggs.”
A slow blink. “Yes.”
The first tight ring of muscle yielded, welcoming me into that incredible, heated clutch.I sank deeper, the sensation of being gradually, willingly swallowed almost overwhelming. “You haven’t encountered another of your kind in centuries.”
Her breath hitched as I seated myself fully, a deep, full feeling for us both. “Correct.”
I began to move, a slow, deep roll of my hips. The internal pressure was still there, a fantastic, rippling massage, but without the aggressive, expulsive intent.It was reception, not contest. I leaned close, my lips near her ear.“The way I fill you… the volume. Sly… I might be able to fertilize them.Your clutch.”
The effect was instantaneous.
A full-body shudder wracked her, a convulsive undulation that ran from the tip of her tail to the roots of her hair. Her cloaca clamped down on me with a sudden, fierce intensity, not to expel, but to claim, to pull me deeper. A raw, guttural sound was torn from her throat, half-growl, half-sob.
“Yesss,” she hissed, the word barely intelligible. Her arms locked around me, her nails – sharp, black, and polished – digging futilely into my invulnerable back.“The pouch. You must reach the pouch.”
Her hips, what there were of them, ground up against me. The slow exploration was gone, replaced by a frantic, desperate need. She was panting, her usually composed face a mask of deep, primal hunger.It ignited something just as primal in me. I hooked my arms under the powerful curves of her serpentine body, finding purchase, and began to fuck her in earnest. Each thrust was deep, measured, aiming for a place I’d only guessed at last night. The wet, heated squeeze of her was magnificent, a living, pulsing vise designed to optimize every drop.“There,” she gasped, her head thrown back.“Yesss, there! I feel it!”
The head of my cock bumped against a new resistance, a softer, yielding barrier deep within her.Her brood pouch. A place that had likely been empty, dormant, for longer than I’d been alive.The thought undid me. The image – of her, swollen not just with my seed but with potential life, with eggs that I had sparked – unleashed the torrent.
It started not as spurts, but as a pressurized flood, a direct injection into that sacred chamber.I drove into her, pinning her against that inner gateway, and let go.
This release was different from last night’s spectacular battle. This was deeper, more profound, a purposeful filling. I held myself deep, my body convulsing as I pumped what felt like gallons into her waiting pouch.It was a claiming of a different sort.A promise.
Slytherine was shuddering through a continuous, rolling orgasm, her internal muscles fluttering wildly around me, milking the eruption for all it was worth. Her sounds were beyond words, a series of choked, keening cries and deep, vibrational purrs that I felt in my bones.
The insemination seemed to last forever, a slow, steady saturation of her deepest self. When the final pulses faded, I stayed buried within her, both of us breathing in ragged unison. Her body had softened around me, her coils loosening from their tense arches into a languid, satisfied sprawl.
I gently pulled out.The visual evidence was immediate. Her lower abdomen, already softened from last night, now displayed a more pronounced, distinct roundedness high up near where her torso met her serpent body. The brood pouch was full.
She lay back, one arm draped over her eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly.For several minutes, neither of us spoke. The only sound was Teela’s soft, sleepy glooping from the other room and the ever-present hum of the outpost.
Finally, Slytherine lowered her arm. Her golden eyes were hazy, sated, but held a new, bewildered softness. She looked down at the subtle curve of her abdomen, her long, elegant fingers splaying over it.
“Centuries,” she whispered, her voice awed and rough.“It has been centuries since I felt… this.The potential. The weight.” Her eyes found mine. “You have no idea what you have done.”
“I think I’m starting to,” I said quietly.
She nodded slowly, then with a grimace of effort, began to move.She didn’t reach for her armor. Instead, she slithered toward the goop-womb-chamber doorway, peering in at the still-sleeping Teela. Then she looked back at the main room, at her neatly stacked gear on the chair.
“My current berth is on a transport freighter. It leaves in sixteen hours.” Her gaze returned to me, contemplative, calculating in a way that had nothing to do with theft or piracy. “This processing… this gestation… will require stability.Security.” A pause.“And continued insemination to ensure viability. The clutch will absorb the nutrients, but the source must be replenished.”
She was stating facts, not asking.But the question hung in the air nonetheless.
I looked at the swollen curve of her belly, at the doorway to where Teela slept, forever curious, forever generous. A strange, new symmetry was forming.Teela, approaching her critical mass, fed by me. Slytherine, now carrying potential life, also fed by me.
“You should stay,” I said, the words feeling inevitable. “The freighter can leave without you.”
Slytherine’s tongue flicked out, tasting the decision in the air. That faint, rose-gold blush returned to her cheeks.She gave a single, slow nod.“I will stay,” she said. And with a fluid, powerful motion, she began to coil herself not in the center of the living room, but around the perimeter, creating a nested, watchful barrier.She was no longer a guest. She was part of the nest. Her golden eyes watched me, heavy-lidded and possessive, as she settled in for the long haul. The viewport behind her framed her with the infinite stars, a serpentine goddess guarding a new, impossible future.