Verulkya's plump lips look even more appetizing with the wet shine of the liquor.
The traditional way of Dhägna'Hür is not like this. Yet, N'Ïrk is not with a woman from his Homeworld, even if he is still in the space shipyard orbiting the planet.
He can't help but smile, his debonair yet feral grin becoming primal and savage. His pupils constricted into slits on his green glowing irises. The heartbeats rising up.
But he is not the only one. The woman is excited too. Because for the first time in her life, someone is seeing her as a person, not like a bridge to reach Varmina, her sister.
The young man takes his time, traversing the female's belly with his right hand, reaching for the waist and tugging her closer to him.
His left hand is not idle. Tenderly rubbing the skin of Verulkya's cheek. The fingers keep the journey to the woman's nape, while N'Ïrk's nose rubs featherlightly from the female's neck to the chin, brushing the lips.
He can tease too, not rushing. Differently to his all-out battle style. Being intimate, initially at least, he doesn't mind the chase. Like a prowler, reminding the prey that its life continues, solely because the Predator allows it.
The inhalation of Verulkya is long and slow, tensing her muscles and filling her lungs with N'Ïrk's scent.
{This is not the aroma of a young man. If not the smell of a mate}. The not so fleeting thought is in the verge of being preposterous. Insane even. {How does a young man feel so imponent and experienced?}.
The hints were there for N'Ïrk, and he ties the knots, giving a short, tentative lick to the woman's lips.
The dissonance with the initial approach stunns the poor inexperienced Verulkya. Who is unprepared for the following switch in attitude.
N'Ïrk's lips merge with her's, passionately, yet, the young man's tongue goes through the female's meaty lips, infiltrating effortlessly with no opposition, dominating the resident tongue, and stealing the liquor with quick, precise but relentless and oppressive strokes.
The female is taught that her tongue can function as a fleshlight, getting trained with the new sensation that is overwhelming her.
The slow method subdues and corrupts the woman's novice senses, numbing her with a vast unknown bliss.
She is completely bewildered, until now, she was unaware of how pleasurable a kiss could be. Heated and intimate. Questioning if she could live deprived of such gift.
Because she is longing for the warmth of the contact, as soon as the young man ends the interaction.
"Thanks for the drink. I am N'Ïrk Ignay'Thus. May i call you by your name?".
"You… , Young Man…". Verulkya has to regain her breath. Instincts and horniness mixed with the raging primal urge of finally learning how it feels to be penetrated, as the foreign itch is becoming almost unbearable.
"N'Ïrk…". She calls gulping down her own saliva, licking and moistening her lips before seductively biting the lower one. Recalling and performing to the best of her abilities, what she has seen her sister doing, to entice others. "Take me out to somewhere more private, and you can refer to me, under any designation you prefer to use".
N'Ïrk is amused, the sheer boldness is a nice and welcoming touch, pecking the woman's lips, assisting her to walk out from the lounge, and directly heading to his cabin.
The absence of alcohol in the air, along the arguably slow walk, gives some semblance of clarity to Verulkya's mind, who stands right outside of the chamber's doorframe.
Nevertheless, she doesn't hesitate, half drunk or not, she won't waste her sole chance to be with a man who is truly invested on her.
Walking in, the massive round rear of the woman is in full view for N'Ïrk, grunting after sighting the flesh he is about to devour.
Trailing her. He lunges at the female with a swift move, embracing her from behind like a quiet «Nightstalker» would do.
His strong hands are holding the woman's waist in a caring but suppressing hug. A wordless testament. «You are mine. And you know it».
She tilts her head back, partially stopped by the young man's forehead rubbing in a slow feral tempo to the woman's right temple.
Their gazes encounter. Lust brewing within the two. As N'Ïrk's naughty, nimble fingers wander up the woman's belly, reaching for the large smooth breasts that are still sheltered by the revealing black dress.
Pulling the fabric down, the view becomes tantalizing with the shy inverted nipples that refuse to leave their cherished home.
N'Ïrk's nose continues teasing Verulkya's vulnerable neck with a tender brush that is followed by a playful lick, passing over the sensitive skin to heighten the sensation.
This has a tacit meaning. «I am going to mark you here».
The sole idea of being «Branded». Or «Owned». Especially from someone that is evidently younger. Is a rare turmoil of raw, depraved, wild emotions. Intoxicating the already highly spiked senses of Verulkya, making her body squirm, arching her back, sending her beautiful butt cheeks against the awakened warm eel resting near but in-between the dress's crack delimited by her fleshy rear.
The virile member is contained under the layers of reinforced materials. Regardless, it is turning harder and stronger.
A real growing titan, invigorated with the unprovoked but welcomed contact of the female's nervousless tenseness.
The automatic lights illuminating the cabin change its normal hue. This is not a feature to enhance the mood in the room. If not a kind reminder of «The Nï'Vay», informing the passengers to hold themselves as the ship is departing, crossing the Spatial Ring, and delving into the wonderful but mysterious «Limbus».
The strong vibration is almost equal to pass over a bump at high speed, and N'Ïrk takes advantage of the expected jolt, pushing his body weight onto the female's.
Both fall, accidentally on purpose, against the mattress of the luxurious satined bed.
Verulkya uses her hands as a source for additional support. Trying to stand up. But to no avail. The action is blocked by the toned silhouette of N'Ïrk.
And the woman shudders, he is way stronger and taller than her. Which only makes her untouched maidenhood to twitch in a rushed excitement.
Defenseless, at the mercy of a stranger. Yet, Verulkya doesn't feel fear, just an alluring safety that is becoming a lewd lullaby with the fast beat of the couple's hearts, both synchronizing it along their fast ragged breath.
Wanting to perceive more of the recently discovered emotion. The woman attempts a new futile scape. But a hand on her nape is sufficient to straddle her, pining her down into submission.
She gasps, laudly, even though her face is against the bed, muffled, suffocated, and wiggling her buttocks with an involuntary spasm due to the lack of oxygen.
This action is shortly and abruptly interrupted by the firm, commanding voice of N'Ïrk.
"Bite the quilt. I want to see you tilting your head back. Looking at me with your sexy amber eyes. Showing to me those pretty teeth you have, holding the fabric".
The sentence is not a random bunch of words. If not a list of orders, demanded to be fulfilled by her. And Verulkya wants to.
But what if she fails?. Or refuse?. Will she be punished?.
The silly questions linger in her mind. Yet, it goes in the other way too.
What if she fulfills the list?, just like N'Ïrk wants. Will she be praised?. Rewarded?.
She doesn't know. But is that uncertainty what gives an extra incentive for her to be docile and compliant…