FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Shots ring out from the opposing ships, the metal plated merchant ship having suddenly swung out from behind an asteroid to slam into the heavier barge, rebounding off with minimal impact to show for it. The attacking ship, the Archie, is a big bellied craft reinforced to withstand going full tilt through an asteroid belt in the days of solar sail ships being common place. That's not so anymore, so it needed to rely on stealth to have a hope of catching the barge, when its engines are both smaller and have pitifully less fuel than the target.

Damaging the metal barge was not the plan. The actual plan is far more scatterbrained: jumping on mid impact, Yskra and the most skilled fighters of his crew making the crossing. It's especially risky with the rest of the crew having become more mutinous in the last few weeks with the lack of loot, and more namely, food and water, and it's possible that the Archie may altogether leave them all there in the hornets nest they just kicked. It is, however, a necessary risk for any of this to work.

Shots from the Archie ring out with black, hazy smoke of improperly stored gunpowder, the bullets finding their targets several times in the engines and crew alike but failing to have enough stopping power to even dent or cause worse damage than a bruise. The barge, lacking many guards, has much better equipment, and their bullets tear straight through the wooden railing and deck of the Archie, narrowly missing or grazing the targeted crew and forcing them to take cover.

Dressed in dark leathers and his golden crown of feathers dusted grey from space dust, Yskra draws his sword and advances swiftly forward, hollering for the unarmed crew of the barge to step aside or outright shoving them out of the way as they make their way to the helm in a rush. The raptor notices their guards must be focused on shooting on the Archie, giving him a sense of confidence they can take control without much of a challenge.

That theory is soon challenged, the squad quickly running into a group of navy soldiers as they force their way below into the barge's interior. These are not backwater trained hicks, nor are they hardened veterans, but recently trained, professional soldiers. For some of them, this is their first assignment, but the order “Take your combat positions!" from their commanding officer rings loud and clear, their training kicking into motion.

Instead of charging, they take formation and march forward, guns in the back, swords drawn at the front, prepared to use their number advantage. In the middle of them is their officer, a hydra with bright yellow eyes and deep blue scales, a fiery orange and yellow pattern dancing along the fins that sprout from head to tail. What she is not prepared for is several black packages being thrown at their feet, exploding into oily smoke that burns the nose and blinds the eyes, leaving her and her comrades coughing and sputtering as cudgel and blade is brought down on them.

“Retreat down the hall!" She orders, pulling back and still maintaining formation despite the surprise attack.

Her name is Zeryl and her frown deepens when she realizes a third of her men don't appear out of the smoke, a tall raptor with smudged golden feathers walking out of it instead, five pirates behind him of various heights and sizes but all avian in nature as either birds or raptors. They wield swords, but many of them also holding clubs, rope, and other non-lethal means of attack.

“We'll be taking this ship now," He says with a fierce grin, his white teeth clashing against the black smudges all over him as he hefts another smoke bomb. “Your full surrender would be appreciated. But we'll get there one way for another."

“Nothing else for it," Zeryl swears under her breath, cutting an overhead cord and bringing down part of the hatch above. “We'll be cleaning this up all week…"

The hatch falls inwards, letting in dust from the passing by stars flood in but also ripping the smoke out, leaving them all in the dimly lit interior of the barge, surrounded by cargo and a sudden silence only broken by rushing air and creaking lanterns. Smoke bombs won't work with the rushing air and pistol shot would be thrown off by unless fired point blank, leaving one singular option.

“Give 'em hell lads!" Yskra bellows, Zeryl following with, “Cut them down! They've earned it!"

The two groups clash steel on steel with battlecries, a sudden fierce melee that forces the pirates to space out before they can be surrounded. The result is a total breakdown of coherency, soldiers grouping up in pairs or sets of three to take each pirate on at the same time, quickly dispersing throughout the cargo hold as restraining lines are cut and all manner of bags, barrels, and boxes are haphazardly scattered about, making it all the harder to pin the swashbucklers down as they dance about in the familiar chaos of their vocation.

Aside from the lack of accuracy with guns, it would be ridiculous to attempt to use in this close quarters, especially next to sensitive cargo, leaving every fighter clashing blades together. Both Zeryl and Yskra had eyes fixed on each other from the start, and they are no exception as they meet head on. Where the pirates and sailors around them are gales, these two meet like a hurricane, knowing their forces are evenly locked and either leader falling would mean victory for the other side.

Despite having the height advantage, in their initial clash, Zeryl's heavier sword catches Yskra off guard and makes him groan with effort to deflect it, sending sparks flying and leaving him open to be grabbed by the collar and headbutted. Stumbling back a few paces, he wards off her follow up slash and suddenly steps forward to kicks her leg. Using her tail as leverage on a barrel, she falls forward instead of backward, nearly putting her sword into his chest before Yskra redirects it upward with the flat of his own weapon. The two of them bump noses together in a suddenly very intense locking of gazes before they shake it off and push off.

On the soldiers joins in but is quickly slammed face first into a support beam. As the two go back and forth, trading small cuts, another pirate joins in, only to be tripped and receive Zeryl's tail in a full swing that sends him tumbling several feet away across the floor. Grabbing her tail afterwards, Yskra drops his sword to pull her towards him, ducking underneath a slash and wrapping her sword arm in his own tail to prevent her from swinging. In the same motion, he wraps his arms around her chest, both hands inadvertently finding her breasts. Dropping the weapon to pull her arm free, he is forced to dart back lest her fingers gouge into his eye and the two go back and forth once more, this time hand to hand.

Whenever he grabs her arm, she can counter and push him off. Whenever she nearly lands a blow, he catches or barely avoids it, their bodies grinding together, learning one another's moves, going back and forth, until they're both gasping for breath. Finding an opening, Zeryl grabs his crotch, but her fingers instead wrap around a rock-hard erection, already damp through the fabric of his pants with pre.

Letting out a sudden moan, Yskra stumbles and the two are dragged onto the ground. Struggling, he grips her pants to try and find leverage to pin her down, but her belt was cut in their fighting, and he instead pulls them down. She tries to stand as he does this, giving him an incredible view of her vent, hot and wet, as she stumbles back and lands rump first on his groin area. His tip grinds achingly against her folds as she comes to a sitting position in his lap.

The both of them are hot, flustered, and unsure of how to handle the situation. Zeryl can feel the large length of his cock along the seam of her snatch, grinding at the entrance as he shifts under her.

“W-wha?" She moans before remembering where she is, yelling, “Ahh, you hedonist!"

“You smell like heat…" He huffs, the scent of her arousal filling his nostrils so close and kicking on a strong instinct to rut, grabbing her shoulders before she can hop off. “Gonna… breed…"

“I-in your dreams, pirate!" She yelps as his tip aligns with her vent, threatening to plunge in at any moment.

Using her own tail against her, he pulls her into place, the strong tail wrapping around his chest but not squeezing as she hesitates between duty and lust. She's stunned and aroused at the feeling of the shape, heat, and large size of his cock despite that they were fighting to the death not two moments ago.

“No, don't you da-" She begins to cry, but it's too late, cutting herself off with a lewd gasp as he forces her into place and thrusts upwards, the tip pushing into the resistance of her tight, virgin vent. “N-no! Not here!"

Laying on his back, he has easy control of her with a grip on the base of her tail, leaving her no choice but to ride reverse cowgirl without the ability to push herself off, nothing nearby to grab onto. She briefly attempts to put her clawed fingers into his thighs, but being firmly yanked back and the sharp jaws of the raptor clamping down on her neck thoroughly dissuades that.

He pushes against the thin layer of her hymen when it suddenly gives out, forcing a pained gasp out of her that turns to a moan as he slowly forces inch after into her sex, spreading it wide around his girth with a lewd, slick sound. With an aroused grunt, he slowly pulls out and thrusts back inside, unsure of how to use the motion of his hips and roughly humping into her. Despite his unsurety, he makes up for it as his fingers explore her body, groping her belly and sensitive sides before reaching up to tear away her shirt.

She flinches and squirms as his large palms grope her breasts, too hard at first but softening in response to her pained grunt. Their flesh slaps together as he increases in fervor, distracting the soldiers as they realize their captain is being plowed in front of them on the ground, her moans quiet at first and building into loud titters and yelps as the driven, ambitious girl who never had time for a boyfriend is suddenly receiving very thorough attention to her needs. Those who are distracted quickly catch a cudgel to the head, and just like that, their advantage of numbers vanishes.

The rest are summarily beaten into submission and the helm is taken with only minor resistance from the captain, the rest of the crew merely paid laborers that are more than happy to be locked in their quarters if it means being spared the blade. This all goes on without Yskra as he is busy breaking in the hydra's tight, wonderfully warm hole. Battering down her defenses, her legs begin to shake, and his Yskra begins to want more but doesn't know how to thrust deeper.

“N-nngh! Fuck it, flip me over! Give it to me!" She whines, surprised and suddenly regretting letting the lewd thoughts win as he does exactly that, pinning her to the ground.

Shame and pleasure paint her face as he pushes her down and plants both hands on her shoulders, thrusting into her sex down the to base with enough force his balls slap wetly against her taint. Repeating the maneuver, he quickly learns how to position himself to best spear her on his throbbing sword, delving into her most deep, intimate place until his tapered penis begins to push nudge her cervix.

She doesn't want to admit it, but her body will as she can barely keep herself from outright begging for more, his brow locked against hers with a predatory gaze. He's grinning, finding he not only likes but loves what he's doing to her, causing emotions to blend together in turmoil and rush through her head until she can barely speak. She hates that he is aware of it, her cheeks turning red as he takes her without any restraint or consent. His thrusts become faster and more uncoordinated, and she realizes he's getting close as his eyes glaze over and close, letting out a fierce growl and gripping her shoulders harder.

“Wha- no! Don't you dare, you brute!" She tries to yell, but it barely comes out as more than a murmur as she feels warmth explode inside her.

The heat, the disgrace, the intensity of it all is too much as she lets out a sudden roar of fierce pleasure, his cum painting the inside of her womb with thick ropes. It startles even Yskra, among the rest of the pirate crew that have gathered to watch after the Archie docked with the now subdued barge. She clamps down around him like a vice in an almost painful grip, milking his shaft for all its worth. Mildly deafened from the thunderous rumble of her bellow signaling her orgasm, Yskra nonetheless continues to ride out his orgasm until cum leaks out of her snatch in a heavy, dripping stream.

“Don't stop!" She gasps, Yskra more than happy to comply as he flips her over onto her hands and knees and mounts himself firmly inside her on instinct alone.

As other pirates move to drop their pants and join in, Yskra leans over her protectively with a vorcious gaze, a subtle but very lethal growl in his chest promising they will only take her place if they interfere. Aware of just how many days the last man who pushed his luck with Yskra spent it tied to the mast, his crew decides to leave him alone with his prize. His tail winding around hers, Yskra spears his length inside her and spirals into a rut as he takes her.

Her resisting and hesitant cries have been replaced by complacent moans, his hesitancy gone as the need to breed the female in his grasp takes over. He doesn't release her until his seed has been pumped into her again and again, no place in her belly untouched and tainted, leaving it draining in a small stream when he finally pulls out and leans back into a sitting position. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he collects his wits and realizes the clicking sound he heard was her gun as the barrel presses his chest.

“Oh. So, that's what it feels like." He remarks. “Did you have that the whole time and just not use it?"

“Yes. Yes, I did," She sighs, her head still foggy from the afterglow. “Understandably, I forgot about it for a moment."

Standing, she leans against a support beam wearily, motioning for him to back up with a few flicks of the barrel while she catches her breath. They're alone for the moment, the guards carried off by the pirates to the top deck, and if she wanted to shoot him and run, she could. He opens his mouth to speak as he complies, but she puts a finger up, holding it until she's able to take few deep, steadying breaths that let her hold the gun without it swaying.

“Damn, I did that well? I mean, of course I did! But. Here me out. Shooting me won't change the fact the ship's been taken," Yskra slowly reasons, raising his hands. “But you can still lose."

“Oh?"

“Well, you're more than certainly going to get canned letting pirates get onto your ship and take control of whatever cargo you were guarding. Not to mention it will slip one way or another it happened because you couldn't keep your pants on…"

“Sirah, there better be at least a tea break between here and the point unless you wish your torso to be doing an excellent impression of planetary rings!"

Despite the threat, he sees some of the light in her eyes dim. It's written all over her that she's above the average class of soldier, driven and intelligent, and now her career is utterly ruined by one bad day. That means she'll want an alternative, and those don't exactly fall in in your lap on a whim. Dragons may every once in a great while, but not solutions to a career ending mistake. That's leverage he can use.

“So, why don't you help us and get something out of it in return?" He offers. “In more than just a sex sense, that is."

“And what might I have to gain from helping pirates?"

“Money, mainly. A lot of it, in fact! They sent you out here, in the middle of nowhere on this dingy vessel, to guard what – munitions? Why else do you need such heavily padded crates? Let me guess, for some backwater fort?"

“You are right on all accounts, yes…"

“How about, rather than being demoted back to square one, you join me. You clearly know how to get men to follow orders; I could use that kind of hel–"

“Hah! Joining up with the navy has just gotten me screwed in the arse. In both senses. Why on any earth would I want to do that again?" She snorts, finding her bravado. “I know a contact that'll pay good for this cargo, more than you'll ever get. If you'd ever manage to sell it at all, that is! And I am taking a fifty percent cut. Then we go our separate ways."

“Fifty percent!?" Yskra sputters. “Hang on, you think you're in the position to decide how this works?"

She takes a moment to regard her gun, the metal weapon making the smooth whir of metal on claw as it shifts in her hand. “Yeah, I think I am."

“Ehh… hard to argue with that."

“Think of it as a business fee. Besides, I know what a disciplined and happy crew looks like… and it really looks like you need a score of any kind if you want to remain captain."

Yskra lets his breath hiss out his teeth, sighing at the thoroughly wounding point. “You've certainly got me there. Very well."

“Good," She nods, putting the gun down and her hand outstretched to him instead. “You may call me Zeryl."

“Yskra," He replies, shaking her hand. “Shall we… bang out the details in my cabin?"

“Ah, what the hell; let's go flesh a plan. Can't have you bungling my life twice in a row."

“This could be the beginning of a good partnership~"

“Oh, sure, the type with a clutch of eggs and everything? In your dreams, smudge-feathers!"