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All characters depicted in this work of fiction are of legal age of consent.

I

Keeva, like the rest of the crew, was positively reeling with frustration. With her husband's cock a thousand miles of cold sky away, she deferred to her fingers. However, rubbing her pussy through her wet panties while perched on a toilet in the claustrophobic cubicle was possibly the least romantic setting one could imagine.

It didn't discourage her sheer effort though.

She was desperate to wrap her arms around her Braxton again. She could recall him with perfect clarity, having been shuddering and mewling with pleasure in his arms only a month ago. His chiselled features; his warm, comforting musk; his firm body pressing her down on the bed they'd spent their wedding night in… his cock, stretching her yearning yoni.

She knew every inch of it and was desperate to hold the member in her slender fingers, to breathe in its delicious musk, to lick and worship every divine inch before sliding it into the desperate, trembling canal of her sodden pussy.

All Keeva had was her fingers and her imagination. And that proved no substitute for her husband.

Adding to the frustration, the meagre tingle of pleasure derived from her frantic, desperate rubbing was interrupted by the sharp clunk of the bunk room's metal door.

“Rocks-ho, Keeva," Ynshael called, her feminine voice small but unequivocal in its authority. “I need you on flags in five mikes."

Her eyes wide and heart fluttering with shock, Keeva gritted her teeth for a moment. Frozen in place, the only thing hiding her from her captain's eyes a thick curtain separating the washroom from the rest of the bunk room. She took a breath and tried to keep the agitation from her voice.

“I'll be out in a second, skipper!"

Technically a lie, as Keeva did not intend to leave the cubicle immediately. She spent the next few minutes curling her finger against her panties, trying to douse at that desperate burning between her legs. The tip of her finger drove the soft cotton of her lace panties into her cawing opening, the sopping flesh itchy with desire. But the tingle of excitement wasn't there anymore. She'd lost her nerve and couldn't work herself up anymore.

The wasted efforts only seemed to be making it worse. She wanted… no, Keeva needed to be pressed into a bed, to be stretched open by her man's big cock and feel a gush of hot semen put out the fire in her core.

But with Braxton still far away and not due to follow until tonight, she was doomed to stew in horny frustration.

Just a few more hours, she told herself, reluctantly pulling her digits away.

She then waited for her legs to stop shaking before standing and ironing out the ruffles in her skirt. She was quite over-dressed in Conclave Navy tradition. The skyship uniform was much the same as what the men and women serving in the Conclave wore in the administrative offices back on Erth. Keeva was decked out in a short skirt that fitted tight over her shapely hips and petite ass. Dark translucent thigh-high tights sheathed her long, slender legs, their allure only further exploited by the slut-tier height of her heels.

Completing the uniform was a light cotton shirt, coloured depending on the skyship being served on. In the case of the CN Midnight Clad, Keeva and her mates wore deep red.

With a quick glance in the mirror, she saw a pretty woman in her mid-twenties look back. She was pale even without make up, a few locks of ginger hair clinging to her sweaty brow. It didn't seem out of place, on board even the more modern skyships it was bloody hot. It would be unusual for her not to be drenched and slippery with sweat while aboard the Midnight Clad.

Bearing it as she was typically used to, Keeva splashed some water on her face, fixed her hair just a little and even flushed the toilet to keep up the guise. Not that she had anything to be embarrassed about really. The rest of the crew were just as desperately horny as she was, serving on the edge of the skies from a remote outpost with the prospects of amiable male company made slimmer by the constant patrols their commander tasked them with.

Much less bashful than she was, Keeva remembered stewing under her blanket last night listening to at least two of her mates moaning and fingering themselves at the same time.

Gunship-class skyships like the Midnight Clad weren't exactly roomy, so it wasn't the type of place you could afford to be shy. Keeva had gotten used to being naked in front of her mates, but it had taken a while, and she still blushed whenever they spoke directly to her while she dressed.

The skyship was less that fifty metres from bridge to rear, and consisted of three main compartments. The rear was the bunk room, the living space with nine bunks, a washing area at the back and an under-floor crawlspace for storing supplies.

Pushing through the metal bulkhead, sure to seal and lock it with a pull of the heavy lever behind her, Keeva walked into the midship. This was the cramped little hub that held the skyship together. To either side were bulkheads that would open out into the open skies, similar above her head and beneath her feet. Some bulky skysuits as well as a weapons rack for emergencies hung in the corner, with the bulkhead in front of her wedged open.

It was a straight run to the foremost compartment, the bridge. Directly out of the midship junction was a straight path to the engineering deck where the engineer stoked the furnace and directed the flows of steam and other gasses for the skyship's propulsion system.

Keeva took the steps upward, above engineering. The rest of the crew stood there in identical garb to hers, set apart by their own race. It was definitely the largest open space on board, but at the same time the most crowded.

By the steps as Keeva came up was Leilao, their engineer. The draconic woman wasn't a towering specimen of scale clad muscle you usually thought of when speaking of draconics. Rather in the final quarter or so of her life, Leilao seemed quite skinny and frail by her own people's standards, but to human sensibilities no less gorgeous that the other women on board the Midnight Clad.

Her age showed a little in the draconic way, her golden scales having dulled and turned a more copper colour nearly a decade ago, and her thick mane of deep red hair though still voluminous had some streaks of white at the temples. But despite that, her golden eyes glowed with the sexual energy of a horny adolescent teenager.

To the front on the helm was Pritti. She was a tall but rather slim girl like Keeva, her height just right for peering through the forward portholes while her nimble hands worked over the complicated levers and dials. The youngest of the crew, she was a mau from the heavily forested Meeau Islands.

She had a perky figure much like Keeva did, with a slim mid-riff exposed by the way she'd tied the open ends of her shirt across her chest, her whole body covered in tannish-brown fur flecked with black on the tips of her ears and the ends of her fingers. White fur adorned her face, throat and ran down into the furry valley between her breasts, with more revealed on her belly and between her thighs. She was exempt from the tights that usually made up the female Conclave Naval uniform because of her thick fur. She was more designed to the prevailing winds that battered her homeland speckling a cold stretch of sky, rather than the sweltering interior of a skyship. Still, she stuck it out without any sort of complaint.

Opposite the flagging station on the port side where Keeva would stand was the main cannon. Half in the starboard flank of the bridge, and half protruding out the hull, the bulky loading station topped by a rack full of hefty shells was manned by Miacinthe, by far the largest of the all-female crew.

Her artificial body gave her a size and strength advantage over the crew, as well as a total immunity to the heat radiating from the skyship furnace. Bands of artificial muscle powered by the magical shard locked away in her chest allowed her to lift the hefty explosive shells into the main cannon with ease. She could see farther than the average biological eye. She didn't even need to eat, aside from ingest the odd litre of maintenance oil from time to time, nor sleep.

Miacinthe was like the ultimate skyship crew. The Conclave didn't fill their naval force with constructs, purely because it was impossible to. Constructs like Miacinthe were rare, which was in part why they were so valued and crafted with the utmost care. Their aesthetic while somewhat androgynous and pragmatic, transcended beauty on the basic human level.

Transhuman beauty for a transhuman entity.

Her skin was alabaster white like polished porcelain, her humanoid build quite skeletal with a pronounced pelvis and sternum. Supported by a steel spinal column, her limbs were held together with high tensile fibres of midnight black. Her perfect doll-like features were fixed into an austere expression of battle focus, golden eyes blazing with magical energy.

Completing her was the large shard forming the back of her skull, carved in a way to almost imitate a jagged shock of hair. The magical crystal pulsed with purple light as she looked across at Keeva. She didn't smile, but her empathetic abilities broadcasted a warmth about Miacinthe's presence.

Last but not least, Captain Ynshael dominated the centre of the space. She stood on the metal grate separating the bridge and engineering below, her hips cocked and her hands resting on her slender waist.

Ynshael was tiny, a girl much younger than a skyship captain had any right to be. The drow girl looked to be barely out of her teens, though being generally built small for living in the tight underground tunnels on Vyr it was easy to mistake her for a teenie-bopper on first glance.

Five-foot-nothing and barely ninety pounds soaking wet, she was built slim like Keeva, although she had a flatter chest given her petite size. That wasn't so say she didn't have perky breasts or shapely hips. She had a cheerleader's body, the type Keeva had been jealous of while in highschool, complimented by her gorgeous feminine features. She had twilight coloured skin, long slender ears and pure white hair like spider-silk. Her red eyes were large and rather nice to look at, much like the rest of her.

Spotting Keeva, the captain's dark blue lips peeled into a smile, revealing her pointed, vampiric teeth.

“I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," she teased with a wink, and Keeva smiled back.

“Nothing important anyway." As she moved to her station, she caught the view out the forward porthole.

Drifting out in the open sky, framed by streaks of orange light cast from Solus many hundreds of thousands of miles behind them hung a single rock.

Dodd was the last port of call for explorers heading out into the uncharted skies beyond Solus' warmth. Sandwiched between infinity and the treacherous Belt separating the rock from the rest of the inner skies, Dodd was remote to say the least.

Suitably, the rock was industrialised in a haphazard function. Only a few kilometres across, Dodd was over burdened with structures stretching up high and wide all around. Piers upon piers of metal extended the sprawling dockyards, the whole town seemingly having been balanced intricately on a comparatively tiny foundation. Had the Arkane Council not fitted a plethora of black shards – the same which held skyships and continents in the sky – during construction of Dodd's many additions, the whole rock would surely do a barrel roll. Much to the detriment of the people who lived there.

“Home sweet home," Keeva commented sarcastically as she took to her controls. She started flipping levers, one after the other with the rhythmic speed of a typist.

She was the communications officer on board, and as such was fluent in flagspeak. It was her job to trigger a series of coloured flaps and flags rigged to the skyship's hull, each combination meaning certain words and requests. This way she could visually flag Dodd's flight control tower to communicate their identity and intent.

When she had sent a message she peered into her personal periscope and spotted a response intended for them ripple across the side of the control tower.

“Port-forty-two," she translated for Pritti. “Maintain heading and speed."

“Maintain, aye," Pritti purred in the typical mau accent that rolled her R's. “Another boring patrol over. Good riddance. Pritti is desperate for some R-and-R."

“Yeah, don't get too excited," Miacinthe rumbled in her synthetic, androgynous voice. Her full red lips didn't even twitch as her voice seemed to be injected directly into their heads. “We'll still be on call."

“But at least Pritti can get some hot food in her belly," she purred.

“And hopefully a hot cock, too," Leilao added to a ripple of giggles cascading across the bridge.

Even Ynshael joined in, somewhat excited about the prospect of getting laid. After all, it had been her desperate moans keeping Keeva up last night. Expended patrols along the frontier was boring stuff, even around the Belt. Pirates and monsters didn't tend to venture out and risk confrontation with Conclave gunships.

Even once they made port, the Midnight Clad's crew would still be on call in case of emergencies. However, some proper food and drink in their bellies, and hopefully a bit of cock in their pussies would be nice.

“I heard rumour some draconic merchants were due to arrive this week," Leilao said, a lecherous grin on her lips. “With luck they landed already. I can hardly wait."

“You'll throw your back out, old woman," Ynshael teased.

“Oh, but the pain adds to the pleasure," she retorted to giggles from her mates. “ I can hardly wait for a young stud to split me open with his big cock." She rubbed her belly in anticipation. “Once you've had a rough young bull's ribbed cock turn you inside out your fingers don't exactly do the trick anymore."

“Ugh, stop. You're not helping any of us right now," Ynshael said, her legs trembling a little. Whether that was because she was hot and bothered, or if he was putting it on for dramatic effect, Keeva couldn't tell. “How are you holding up, Keeva?"

Blinking, she quickly realised she was being talked to. Usually at this point in the conversation, especially when Leilao started reminiscing about the various young men of multiple races she'd bedded over the course of her long life, Keeva tended to zone out.

“I'm holding up fine."

Ynshael gave an unconvinced frown. “Sure you are. You have to wait until we rotate back to Erth. Back home to your husband. That's gotta be hard."

“Well, actually, my Braxton is a skyship engineer."

“Oh~, I like him already," Leilao commented.

Keeva grinned. “And he's due to arrive on Dodd today. We were planning to meet up. That's why I'm quite anxious to get this patrol over and done with on time."

Pritti sighed. “Must be nice, having a man at your beck and call. Pritti always has to put in such effort to find a good man when horny."

Ynshael gave a teasing laugh. “That's just you, Pritti. I can find men with no effort at all." As the women laughed it up, she shot Keeva a curious look. “I honestly don't know how you do it though, Keeva."

“What's that?"

“Be married. I don't think I could ever do it. Don't you ever get bored from the lack of variety?"

Keeva smirked at that. “My Braxton has everything I need."

The other women all shared looks and gave an intrigued, “ooooooohh~!"

Several moments later they pulled up to dock. Pritti set them in the cradle and the mooring clamps took hold with a pneumatic thud. Leilao then cut airflow into the furnace, setting it for a cooling cycle.

At the same time the women moved down the steps towards the midship, buttoning up their shirts and makings themselves presentable for Dodd. The sweltering, stuffy air of the Midnight Clad followed them onto the cool docks as they fixed their uniforms.

A hubbub of activity consumed the space as usual as the wind whistled against the wind-breaks concealing them from the open sky. It was frigid out compared to on board the skyship, and quickly Keeva could feel her nipples harden against her shirt. She shyly folded her arms across her chest, regretting her lack of bra. But wearing one on board a skyship would have been comfort suicide.

Settled in the pier beside theirs was a skyship of similar size, albeit sleeker design. The prowler was more browns with tan stabilising sails than the clunky, armoured steel grey aesthetic of the Midnight Clad. It was a faster vessel that by its paintjob and insignia belonged to the Arkane Council, gatekeepers of magic across the skies.

“That looks like trouble," Miacinthe said, recognising the insignia of the people that had built her.

As her story went, she'd been killed in a cataclysm some forty years ago, however the Arkane Council agents on site were able to save her soul before it was lost on the wind. They'd built her this new autonomous body, powered by a shard contained in her core and given her a new life. She probably knew more about the Arkane Council and magic than any of the others combined, and if she was concerned then the others figured there was a need to follow suit.

Turning to a nearby admin clerk, Ynshael waved the man down. “Boss! Is there trouble on Dodd tonight?" she pointed at the Arkane Council skyship.

The dock-boss shrugged. “Not as far as I know. They arrived a few hours ago to collect some shards that were mined beyond the frontier."

That made sense. With pirates roaming the inner skies, the safest way of transporting shards was with Arkane Council officials. If fully loaded shards fell into the wrong hands the havoc wreaked would be unimaginable. Even the more harmless black shards were precious. They were what kept rocks and continents from falling into infinity. With even a hundred pound chunk of black shard a pirate could put a newly built destroyer-class skyship bristling with guns in the sky.

Signing in and handing off their patrol reports, about an hour later Keeva and the girls were cleared to leave the docks and visit their usual dive. Leilao as usual ummed and erred about the first round so that Miacinthe lost patience and treated them all. Being a construct meant her needs were rather simple. As such her savings, even on the meagre Conclave salary were rather considerable. She literally had nothing else to spend her pay on other than treating her friends.

Among the fancy glasses the waiter brought, Miacinthe slurped maintenance oil from a simple can down her oral cavity.

The others had ordered a mixture of brightly coloured cocktails, and Ynshael's flute of ruby red fluid stood out among them. Freshly donated drow blood – her preference – mixed with olive oil so it wouldn't coagulate. Unlike the animal blood she had to stomach in her ration packs when they were out on a long patrol.

“It's a pity they don't serve other vampiric cuisines," she said, savouring the fresh coppery scent rising from her glass.

“Why? What else can mistress possibly drink?" Pritti asked.

“I can slake my thirst on other bodily fluids," she explained. “Though now I think of it, one might consider it impolite to guzzle down a nice thick load of cum in public."

They descended into a fit of giggles, clinking their glasses together in a toast.

“And speaking of a nice thick load of cum," Leilao said, downing her drink in one go. Her eyes were fixed on the row of stools at the bar, a young draconic man maybe a quarter her age perched on one. Setting down her glass, she stood and threw her mates a lewd smile. “Don't you girls wait up on me now."

Keeva shook her head, watching Leilao stalk like a predator towards the younger draconic. “You are a dirty old woman, Leilao."

She merely winked on her way to the bar, putting an exaggerated sway on her shapely ass while she walked. It was a display that caught several male gazes, not just that of the ripped lad at the bar whom Leilao set her sights on. The matured draconic woman still had her mojo.

As she was going, something seemed to catch Ynshael's eye. The tavern door opened and several figures moved inside. All of them men, wrapped up against the cold air outside, each well-built for life out in the open skies. They were skyship crew, like Ynshael and her mates, that much was for certain. She'd seen the type thousands of times before. Rugged, conventionally handsome… but leading the men inside was something rather special.

He wasn't the tallest or broadest of the men, but he was well put together with a frame ripped from manual labour and a chiselled aspect that belonged on a magazine cover. But it wasn't a namby-pamby sort of handsomeness he sported either. He kept his dark hair clipped short and there was some coarse stubble on his sturdy jaw.

Pritti noticed him too, going by her soft purr. Even Miacinthe passed a comment.

“Now that makes me long for my old human body," she said softly, eyes blankly fixed upon the man.

He was only halfway across the tavern to their table when in an unusual show of feminine dominance, Keeva leapt to her feet. She crossed right over to him, threw her arms around the man and kissed him on the lips.

Ynshael gaped for a moment then threw a smirk at her fellows.

“Braxton," they all agreed.

It was quite surreal to see at first. Keeva was by no means unattractive, but when placed next to Braxton it almost seemed like he should have been waaaaayy out of her league.

Holding hands, the couple moved to the table, Braxton De Witt offering a small smile and wave.

“Everyone, this is my Braxton," Keeva introduced casually.

It seemed an innocent enough little introduction, but to Ynshael there was something obscenely possessive in Keeva's voice and body-language. She was gripping the man's arm tightly, pressing her whole body up against him.

Perhaps it was just because Keeva was desperately horny. But then there was her carefully picked words. 'My Braxton' she called him.

Braxton managed to just about give them a courteous 'hello,' before Keeva tugged at his arm and pulled him away. “We have catching up to do, so don't wait up!" They were up the stairs and in Keeva's room before the other women even had a chance to say anything.

As part of the Conclave Navy detachment on Dodd, this inn and others were providing lodging for skyship crews. The Midnight Clad had been issued three rooms, one private quarters for the skipper with the others able to share the rest. Keeva was sharing with Miacinthe, who did not technically need a bed. But Braxton didn't know that.

He stumbled when Keeva pushed him into the room and slammed the door shut behind her. She was already working open the buttons of her shirt, showing no signs of having the patience to undress any further. Her panties could be pulled aside easily enough and her skirt could be lifted.

“Don't you have to share this room with your mates?" Braxton asked taking in Keeva properly now as she shrugged off her shirt.

Topless she looked just as good when dressed. Her pink nipples were erect with aroused frustration, and the tights and high heels only served to garnish her leggy figure as she rushed forward.

“They can damn well wait their turn," Keeva said, shoving her towering husband on the nearest bed and leapt on top of him.

Keeva wasn't the only woman leaving on the sexier parts of her uniform as she excitedly rode a length of cock.

Leilao curled her fingers, digging her nails into her young friend's scaly chest, bouncing frantically in his lap.

She rode smoothly like a woman a quarter her age, pitching her hips back and forth at the apex of each stroke. Her whole body worked with the motions, turning the affair into a steamy carnal dance. The young draconic at the same time squeezed the tight globes of her ass, his muscular arms helping her each rise, then yanking her sharply down against the upward thrust of his hips. Each delve slammed the woman hard and deep. Just how she liked it.

Despite his vigour, the poor boy was panting with exhaustion. He'd been with young women of every race, and not even the most nymphomaniac mau in her prime had been as agile and rigorous as this mature sex-machine. They'd been going at it for hours now, and still he was stubbornly working up through the bliss to another orgasm. Leilao had cum several times so far, squirting all over his cock as it sheathed inside her, right up to her cervix, every firm ridge and bump scratching the needy itches in her canal.

His previous ejaculations clung to Leilao's red tresses, with globs clinging to the scaly curves of her ass and settled in the valley between her tits. He was sure this next load was going to be nowhere as copious – if his balls produced anything other than a puff of dust.

“Are you ready, baby?" she hissed, her canal clenching on the young-man's fuck-meat. “Do you want to cum in my mouth? Or maybe you'll fill my cunt with your thick cream this time?"

He mumbled something, but the older woman threw her head forward and squealed across him. Leilao's whole slender frame shuddered as she started to orgasm. “Oh~, clouds! I'm going to cum first though! I'm going to cum all over your big-… aaaaaahhh~!"

Her expression was etched with blank, mindless bliss for a second before she clenched her eyes shut. Her canal tightened like a wet, silky vice and it was all it took to tip her young lover over the edge.

With a roar he felt his stubborn body yield, the beginnings of his orgasm churn in the base of his cock. He wanted more, yearned for completion. Demanded it. His fingers dug hard into the scaly flesh of her gorgeously formed ass and he slammed her several times, harder than before. Hard enough to splatter his own abdomen with her flowing juices. Leilao squealed harder than before. She practically screamed, no doubt waking the neighbours.

His seed erupted at the same time, irrigating Leilao's insides. She was filled to the point of bursting, some dregs of the thick white cream leaking out the base of her slit and dribbling down across the man's drained balls.

It took several moments for him to come down from his bliss. He just lay there, sheathed in this older, yet gorgeous woman as she squealed and squirmed. He had no doubt she was going to climb off him again, working him up with her mouth once more and then they'd fuck in another position some more. Or maybe she'd had her fill. She was still moaning and shaking, thrashing around as the orgasm carried on for what seemed like minutes.

Finally the throb in his ear canals died down and he opened his eyes. To his surprise though, Leilao's eyes were wide open. Not glowing with sexual energy, but wide open with pain.

Leilao squealed, gasping for breath as she pawed at her back and finally slumped over. His cock slipped from her sodden pussy with a sucking pop while Leilao landed wheezing in agony.

“What?" the young man called, suddenly worried. “What's wrong?"

Leilao gaped like a fish several times, then wheezed, “M-my back… my back…"

“This is a joke, right?" Ynshael asked. “It's got to be a joke."

Her commanding officer cocked an eyebrow, perusing Leilao's medical file with morbid amusement. “With two slipped disks and a dislocated pelvis, I bet it doesn't feel like much of a joke to Petty Officer Leilao."

In the other room several nurses fussed over the draconic woman strung up in a special rack designed to re-align her spine. The exact conditions that had attributed to her current predicament had been fuzzy up to about ten minutes ago when she finally admitted under a painkiller addled haze her love for big cocks had finally disagreed with her aging frame.

Commander Delaware handed the medical file back to a young nurse and sighed, watching where Leilao hung a few feet above the bed, completely immobile. “The timing is unfortunate to say the least. The Arkane Council just asked us to escort their transport back to Erth, and the only skyship Dodd can spare right now is the Midnight Clad."

“It's a joke. A poxy freakin' cosmic joke." And yet Ynshael wasn't laughing. In fact, she was far from it, a grimace forming an unflattering expression across her usually pretty aspect.

Her most reliable engineer was down and Commander Delaware needed them for an op. Not just a patrol, but an honest to goodness operation. Their first bit of excitement in months. And now they were probably going to have to pass it up for some B-team because Leilao was a reckless size queen.

“Now what?" Delaware asked, as if Ynshael should have known.

“Sir? Aren't you going to deploy a backup crew to the Midnight Clad?" Ynshael didn't like the sound of giving up her tub, even saying the words left a disgusting taste on her tongue – as if she'd bitten into a troll. But that was standard operating procedure for the Conclave Navy.

“What backup team?" the commander suddenly scoffed. “Fuck it all, Ynshael. We're running on double shifts, patches and ammo rations. Our next resupply is months away, and fresh crew another few months beyond that. You're all I've got right now and I'm open to any crazy suggestions you might have."

Ynshael grunted. She had honestly formulated something of a solution to this predicament already but had figured there was no way the commander would go with it. “We could employ a civilian engineer, sir. My comms officer; her husband is an engineer, and he's on Dodd looking for travel back to Erth as we speak."

“Is he any good?"

Ynshael had no idea where to even begin. She'd pulled Braxton's records for the purpose of this proposal. And what she'd dug up on Braxton between official records and Keeva's addendums was impressive.

Braxton De Witt was the very definition of 'from small beginnings.' Born on some nameless rock, he didn't have any fancy schooling or tutelage. He learned to read and write from his mother, picked up basic math, and from the age of nine he just began. Took up work on a frigate-class skyship as deckhand, worked up to assistant engineer, and by the time he was seventeen, skyship captains were cutting across each other to have him serve on their ships. Braxton was a licenced contractor by his twenties, which was when he met Keeva. The rest was as scantly recorded as his earliest history, but it was easy to fill the gaps with a few guesses.

“He's good, sir," Ynshael answered, though she couldn't help feel the answer didn't do Braxton any justice.

Delaware nodded. “It's an unusual fix for an unusual situation. The Conclave doesn't usually hire civilian contractors. It'll be a while before I can clear it with command and get him some payment. Let's hope he doesn't mind working pro-bono a in the meantime."

Ynshael quirked a knowing little half grin. “Honestly, sir, I think he'd be happy enough to be serving on the same skyship as his wife. For a while, anyway.

“Good. Make it happen then, captain. You break port in two hours."

“Aye, sir!" Ynshael snapped to a salute which Delaware returned more casually, then turned on her heel and marched off to find that delicious hunk Keeva called her husband.

Stepping aboard the Midnight Clad, the first thing that hit Braxton was the hot, human scent of womanly sweat. The furnace was already heating up, meaning on board was already working up to be unbearably hot, especially considering his fur-lined coat that kept the chill of the docks at bay.

He now knew why his wife suffered just a light shirt the entire way from the tavern to the skyship. In the cool air he'd seen Keeva's nipples poke enticingly through the light cloth and it took every ounce of willpower not to pull her in an alley and 'warm her up' along the way.

Unzipping his jacket as Keeva sealed the bulkhead, Braxton poked his head into engineering. The narrow corridor was lined with pipes, with the furnace glowing on the foremost wall. Pressure gauges indicated they were almost at launch pressure. The engine had gathered gases from the atmosphere and thermally compressed them in the furnace. The expanding gas was then routed all over the skyship through valves and conduits. That would be Braxton's job. To make sure gas intake remained steady, that the furnace stayed hot to keep the tanks at pressure, then direct the gas to appropriate systems so helm could manoeuvre them through the big sky.

Leaving their bags on the midship for now, Keeva led the way up the steps to the bridge.

“It's going to be great having you aboard, honey," she said excitedly. “It gets so lonely on these long hauls."

Braxton chuckled, noting how she was purposely swaying her hips in his face as she climbed. “Need I remind you, Petty Officer De Witt, that you are still an officer of the Conclave Navy and a professional?"

She bit her bottom lip, glancing back at him with a desperate smouldering lust in her eyes. She didn't say anything, but her expression said it all.

Fuck naval professionalism.

Reaching the bridge they saw the rest of the crew was already on board. Pritti held the helm, keeping her eyes on the gauges as she tested thrusters and control surfaces. She exchanged some idle chat with Miacinthe who was oiling the massive breech of the main cannon. Standing in the centre of the bridge, inspecting their work with her hands clasped firmly behind her back was the petite captain, Ynhshael.

Her pointed ears twitched hearing them climb and she turned, nodding curtly to Keeva, and hardly hiding her smile as she laid eyes on Braxton.

“Keeva," she greeted. “Mister De Witt."

“Permission to come aboard, captain?" Braxton asked with a casual salute.

“Bit late for that, no?"

“Better late than never, right?"

The amusement on her face was evident as she considered him for a while, and then looked over at his wife. “Keeva, why don't you double check the hold is secure before we break port?"

Keeva didn't move at first, looking over at Braxton. She clearly didn't want to leave his side.

“Petty Officer De Witt~?" Ynshael chimed gently. “I'm pretty sure I asked you to do something."

Keeva finally nodded with a sharp salute. “Aye, skipper."

As she left, Braxton felt oddly vulnerable. Like that kid on his first day in a new school where he didn't know anybody… except it seemed in this case that all his fellow students and even the teacher wanted to fuck him.

Ynshael had her eyes fixed on his with some professionalism. Except towering behind her at the helm, Pritti was making no effort to hide the way she looked him up and down with eclectic sexual energy sparking in her large feline eyes. Miacinthe only glanced once out of curiosity. Immediately after the construct went back to her own business on the main gun.

Each of them wore that Conclave Naval uniform that was unnecessarily sexy, especially on female members. The dress code had clearly been designed by a dirty old man with a fetish for ladies in short skirts, high heels and sexy tights. Their red shirts also hung open, unbuttoned bar the single button done up at sternum level keeping their breasts from slipping out. It was quite obvious the single button was done up out of consideration for Braxton.

He wondered if he was going to have to make the same consideration. Working downstairs right beside the furnace, he'd be at the mercy of the heat the most. Normally he worked shirtless, but this would be the first time working with an all-female crew.

In direct contrast to her mates, Miacinthe was buttoned up completely. Her construct body was immune to the heat, lucky her. Braxton saw some of Pritti's fur bristling and a few wet locks clinging to the side of Ynshael's face already. In fact, there was already a fat drop of sweat right on the drow's chest, slowly easing its way down her pale blue flesh, rolling into the valley between her-…

“You met everyone last night briefly," Ynshael said, and Braxton hoped jerking his eyes upward didn't give away what he'd been looking at. “Miacinthe is on guns. Pritti is on nav. Your wifey stands there with comms. And you'll be right below me in engineering." She tapped her foot on the grate in the floor and added with a smile, “As tempting as it might be, Mister De Witt, try not to get too distracted by looking up my skirt, hmmm?"

He smiled back. “I'll try to be productive as I am perverted, skipper."

There's some quick wit, Ynshael though to herself. I wonder what else his tongue is good at.

“The mission is as follows," she said with a subtle sway of her hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other. “We're escorting the Arkane Council prowler back to Erth. I'm sure I needn't tell you what happens if even one of the inert shards they're transporting falls into the wrong hands."

Braxton nodded, knowing full well the repercussions. Inert shards could be crudely charged by even a normie with a basic understanding of how lightning rods worked. And then they'd have a magical weapon of mass destruction in the wind.

“I'll keep the furnace hot to keep pace with that prowler, skipper," Braxton said firmly.

“I'm sure that's not the only thing that will be kept hot, Mister De Witt." Ynshael's smile widened a little bit, and for a moment he felt like a piece of meat getting eyed up by a predator.

II

At least in the wild prey had space to run. Aboard the Midnight Clad's tight confines, things were made positively awkward for Braxton.

To her credit, Miacinthe turned out to be the least troublesome of the crew. But at the same time she was impossible to read thanks to her expressionless aspect. Gods only know what she was thinking, and with the strength of her construct body behind her, she could probably do anything she so much desired and there wasn't a thing Braxton could have done about it.

Pritti proved to be rather bold. She was always rubbing up against him in passing. At first Braxton thought she was just squeezing by in the tight corridors. Then he noticed the lusty glimmer in her eyes as she did it. Braxton wasn't so naïve to think this was simply some sort of normal social mau behaviour. What really gave it away was two nights in a row Braxton had found a naked furry heap in his bunk, Pritti quickly giving the excuse she got confused about who owns which bunk sometimes.

To complement Pritti's boldness, Ynshael was the most aggressive. Although she did so with the guile unmatched by assassins. It was clear to see why the crew liked her. Braxton understood the captain and his wife were friends, and couldn't help fantasise about the mischief those two had gotten up to in their time together in flight academy.

Not only did Ynshael like loading her orders with innuendo, she'd also mysteriously lost part of her luggage. She'd taken to forgoing panties, so whenever Braxton looked up through the grate separating his hovel in engineering from the bridge, he looked right up the drow's skirt at the tight, hairless nubile quim between her sleek thighs.

On top of that, the captain's smouldering gaze she seemed to have reserved for him was blatant in its intent to say the least. She was drow of course, and a vampire to boot, doubling her ingrained seductive nature. Braxton wondered if she was being deadly serious in her allure, or if she was just fucking with him in a way her biology was programmed to do.

At least he had Keeva nearby. Were she not there, this would have been a whole lot harder.

They had been a couple since their early twenties. It had been love on first sight, really quite literally. Neither had ever been in a relationship before, and when they fell for each other they formed an unbreakable bond.

It was unusual since celibacy until marriage, especially in your twenties, was a rare trait among men in his generation, but it was an ideal Braxton refused to abandon. The people of Erth were beginning to shrug off the shackles of the tyrannical puritan church that had ruled much of the continent for a long time. Shunning long-lasting bonds for once-off flings was a popular sentiment now and days. But Braxton had made his vows, given his soul to Keeva. And he would never betray her, least of all to simply fit in with the modern lifestyle.

That being said, he was a man and his cock had a fucking mind of its own. There was no helping the many uncomfortable erections he was forced to sport, no matter how loyal to Keeva he was.

“It's just getting a little out of hand," he said, confiding in his wife.

It was one of the few quiet moments they had together. Neither of them were needed and had retired to Keeva's bunk. He had his arm around his wife as she kept her head on his chest, soothed by the firm throb of his heart in synch with her own.

“She's just having fun. Ynshael and I have been friends since the academy," Keeva explained softly. “Turning heads is like a sport for her."

Braxton grunted. “I feel like I'm a step away from getting gang-raped."

“Ooooh~, don't give me ideas. Miacinthe could hold you down so the rest of us could take turns," Keeva joked.

That's all it was. Braxton knew her too well to even imagine Keeva being the sharing type, especially where he was involved.

“Be careful what you wish for. I'm pretty sure her drow nature would mean the skipper gets first go, and you'll be forced to sit in the corner." Braxton ran a line of kisses up her neck. “I won't mind so much, as long as you're watching. But I think that's all you'd get to do."

Keeva giggled, more so because she knew he would in fact mind being ordered to sleep with another woman. She knew all about his sense of loyalty, but was glad he wasn't a humourless puritan incapable of making or taking a joke.

“Clouds! You're insatiable sometimes. This reminds me of that dinner when you admitted you'd lay with my mother."

Braxton scoffed. “I was drunk! I was making crude humour."

“Mmmm-hmmm? She named her vibrator after you."

Pausing for a moment, Braxton considered his retort. “And I choose to take that as a compliment."

Keeva grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him on top of her, guiding his lips to hers for a moment.

“Take my sopping pussy as a compliment and fuck me silly," she hissed sharply, trailing a line of kisses along his jaw and up to his ear.

Braxton chuckled. “That's neither clever nor funny."

“It wasn't meant to be."

Braxton pressed in to kiss his wife more deeply when a purring noise made them both freeze at the same time. Gently lifting his lips from Keeva's, Braxton turned his head and suddenly noticed movement in one of the other bunks.

Pritti was watching them with her large eyes, laying face down with her nimble legs spread wide, humping her wet slit against the mattress and the fingers she slipped under her panties. There were audible wet notes of her sodden furry lips smacking around her fidgeting digits while she suppressed her mewling cries of pleasure.

“Don't mind Pritti," she purred. “Please, continue."

For all their horny bluster though, Keeva and Braxton glanced at each other awkwardly, feeling that hot, passionate moment slip away.

“Way to douse cold water on the moment, Pritti," Miacinthe rumbled as she passed into the bunk room. She was followed closely by Ynshael who just flashed a smirk at Braxton laying on top of Keeva.

“We were just discussing night rotation," the captain said climbing into her bunk, directly opposite the humans. She lay on her side, head propped up in one hand and her legs curled just a little, like a model daring the viewer to come closer for a touch. “Miacinthe can take first watch. Then by the time you two finish giving the rest of us a little show" – her free hand moved down her waist then over the slender curves of her tight ass – “it'll be Pritti's turn to take next watch."

Propped up on his arms, Braxton looked down at Keeva for help. She was gazing up at him with the same uncomfortable desperation though.

“I think I'm a little tired," she said in a small voice.

“Yeah, me too. It's been a long day," Braxton agreed. He shuffled off his wife like a teenager caught in the act by the girl's father.

The humans climbed into their respective bunks and quickly threw the light blankets over themselves, eliciting a disappointed moan from Pritti and a sigh from Ynshael.

“Suit yourselves," the captain said, laying down. But under her blanket, her fingers slid deftly into her panties, while one eye cracked open to watch Braxton try and get some sleep.

Things did not get easier from there. It was almost like the sexual tension had been aired out, giving them the right to be more blatant in their advances.

Pritti for example, trew herself boldly into Braxton's lap where he sat at the back of the bridge. She had her arms around the confused looking man, pressing her head contently against his firm chest.

Everyone was on duty, and idling by her station, Keeva stared for a long time. “Um… Pritti, what are you doing?"

“Pritti is showing master traditional mau greeting," she said casually.

“That's not a traditional mau greeting."

“Really? Pritti did not realise. Sorry." And as if nothing untoward had happened she jumped up and returned to the helm.

Braxton snorted into his hand, suppressing a laugh. That was kind of smooth of Pritti, even Keeva thought so. Though not wanting to encourage this behaviour, she rolled her eyes.

“Alright, people," Ynshael called to get their attention. “Stay sharp. We're almost clear of the Belt."

As the Arkane Council prowler cruised silently just off the port bow, Ynshael cast an eye upward through the circular skylight. Above them tumbled the gravity defying boulders cluttering this part of the sky. Between Dodd and the rest of the known sky hung the cluster of tumbling rocks and islands, an ever-changing hazardous labyrinth of boulders they'd opted to travel under. Traders generally avoided going through the Belt, less for fear of pirates making it their home, and more out of concern for the other variety of beasties lurking in this dark portion of the sky.

“We'll be clear in a few hours, then it's a straight, and safe, run to Durnbihr."

As she said it, it was as if the fickle gods of destiny were listening. Because in that very moment a large shadow flitted across the skylight.

Braxton frowned and did a double take. One second it was there, the next it was not. At first he wondered if perhaps a rock just slid by. But it moved too quick with a serpentine sort of sway to it. He stood to get a better look out the forward and flanking portholes.

And as he did, they descended upon the prowler.

Two large figures, long and slender like enormous snakes with large beating wings. Braxton couldn't make out the features as they darted in and out of the shadows the Belt was casting onto them. They were moving too fast as well. But he recognised the silhouettes immediately.

“Sirens!" Keeva cried out, seeing them too. Thought he report was redundant, given how as she shouted it Ynshael parted her stance a little and the other two gripped their ship controls a little tighter.

The sirens were different in size, no doubt one old and one young. The smaller one buzzed past the Arkane Council prowler hard enough to make it roll slightly on the slipstream the siren trailed behind it. The larger fell on the craft and ripped into one of the steel wings with it's claws, biting though various control surfaces.

“Battle stations!" Ynshael cried, by which time Braxton was already moving down the stairs to engineering.

He turned valves as he moved inside as if having choreographed for this very moment. He could hear the siren's songs already, distant shrieks and wails that sounded almost like sad sobs.

The alien music had an immediate effect. Braxton could feel a tightness in his pants. A desperate cawing for attention in the base of his rapidly forming erection. There was a yearning to slide into a wet sheath. A voice in the back of his mind telling him to forget whatever Ynshael was saying. Just go back up there and fuck keeva. Bend her over the flag controls and slide into her tight pussy until she was shrieking with ecstacy.

Or better yet, have Ynshael. Pin her into the deck of her infernal skyship and fuck her silly until she was begging for him to flood her womb with his cum. And Pritti would have her turn too, limber body twisted into whatever shape he desired and his cock bulging out of her flat tummy. Miacinthe would not be forgotten. The construct had a mouth as far as he knew. He could pry that open and fuck her throat. Its not like she needed air…

Braxton shook it off hard and looked up, feeling a little ashamed of himself. As he did he saw the same view as always. Ynshael wasn't wearing any panties, and that hairless little drow quim was on full display. Except today was different. She was feeling the effect of the siren too, girlish arousal dribbling from those taught lips down her sleek inner thigh to soak her silky tights.

But like Braxton, she only wavered for the briefest of seconds.

“Peel that fucker off the prowler!"

Miacinthe answered with a thunderous roar from the mechanical guns mounted to the Midnight Clad. Braxton felt the ship jolt to one side as Pritti buffeted them around an unseen obstacle. They strafed the sirens, and Braxton's stomach turned as they pulled up hard to track the hostiles.

“Smaller one's bugging out!" Miacinthe reported.

Immediately after there was the thud of the rocket pods unloading their deadly cargo. Explosions ripped across the sky, shockwves pulling at the skyship, but Pritti held them on course.

“No effect on guns and rockets! The big one is made of tougher stuff." Miacinthe added.

Ynshael didn't miss a beat. “Flags, tell that prowler to run. We'll hold it off."

“Aye!" Keeva's hands flew across the flagging controls, flapping cryptic symbols across the sky at the prowler.

“Guns, load high-ex and fire at will."

“High-ex, aye!"

Braxtn reacted to the orders the same way Miacinthe did. As the construct started opening the brech to feed rounds into the main cannon, Braxton eased off on the primary thrusters and opened up the valves for the fine controls so Pritti could help line the shot up.

The main gun barked and far off in the sky the shell exploded. But each blast was punctuated by Miacinthe's grunt of frustration. “Negative hits. Fucker can move!"

“It's turning!" Pritti said with some worry, but the captain's voice remained steely with focus.

“Guns, load high-ex!"

“High-ex ready, skipper!"

“Guns, hold! Nav, hold! Engineer, full forward!"

“Forward, aye!" Braxton shouted, easing back fine controls to put more pressure in the main forward propulsion. He punctuated his compliance by turning and slapping down a large red lever that opened up the main thrusters manually.

Midnight Clad answered with a mighty lurch that nearly sucked them all into the rearmost compartment. The large siren with claws and teeth bared, ready to gut the Midnight Clad rushed them. And they rushed it, unwavering in their course.

All Braxton could do was hold on tight and hope Ynshael knew what she was doing. But then she'd been a captain for perhaps longer than Braxton had been an engineer.

“On scope!" Miacinthe shouted, followed by Ynshael's authorative bellow…

“Fire!"

“On the way!" Miacinthe's voice was drowned out by the mighty cry of the main gun.

The siren vanished in a flash of fire, but many problems still remained. The blast immediately buffeted the Midnight Clad sideways and they slammed to a sudden stop against a drifting rock. The skyship bounced, jostling Braxton against a wall and began to spin clockwise hard enough to displace everything on board, crew included.

Dragging himself to his feet by the pipes, Braxton quickly closed primary propulsion valves and gave Pritti full pressure on fine steering controls, clutching hard so the centrifugal force of the spin wouldn't floor him again.

“You're full pressure on steering, Pritti. Halt our spin!"

Several seconds of dizzying tumble continued and Pritti didn't answer. In fact, nobody answered. It was silent above, and Baxton's mind immediately flashed to Keeva. Had the impact knocked them down too? Were they out cold? Was Keeva hurt?

He buried concern for his wife. It was a struggle and took him a full five seconds of wrestling with the urge to turn and run up to the bridge. Training told him that would be much easier to do if the ship wasn't spinning so hard. So doubling back, Braxton quickly opened the manual control valves, essentially overriding Pritti's control at the helm. The gas reserves rushed out with a serpentine hiss and second by second the Midnight Clad's spin started to slow.

After a while he blocked all control, and going by feeling that they were relatively stable, purged the gas reserves in case the tanks had been ruptured in the fight. Last thing they needed was a blow-out putting them into another tumble that could then not be corrected. The engine was burning hot enough to get them up to movement pressure in less than a minute anyway. They'd be moving at a limp, but they'd be moving all the same.

Feeding the fire another briquette just in case, Braxton finally looked up.

“Keeva!" he called, but was answered only by his own echo reverberating about the engineering corridor. “Skipper?"

As he watched through the grated ceiling, there was a distinct thud. Like a heavy, muscular body slamming the deck. Then a coiled serpentine tail slithered across, then vanished from view.

Braxton's blood ran cold, and it took another few seconds wrestling with his instincts to stop him from blindly rushing up the stairs. Instead, he stealthily eased out of engineering and onto the midship.

There, the port facing bulkhead hung open, swinging gently back and forth as the Midnight Clad listed gently to starboard on a gust of wind. Braxton had to press his weight against it to get it shut, then it took three attempts to get the lock to bite.

Pausing to take a breath, Braxton then reached into the weapons rack and pulled down a mechanical shotgun. He pulled the pump-action back halfway and checked the breech. A bright red plastic shell indicated the weapon was loaded, and somewhat satisfied he eased his way gingerly up towards the bridge.

There was another thud, and the distinct sound of hard scales scraping over metal. He brought the shotgun to bear and followed the barrel onto the bridge proper.

The first thing he sighted were several slender bodies writhing on the floor, with the exception of Miacinthe's bulk draped over the cannon controls, her hips dry humping the air and a silent but erotic laden thought broadcast into the thick, musky air. Braxton almost choked on the pheromones filling his nostrils. That sort of stuff usually went unnoticed by humans aside from awakening a nagging desire to mate. This was… alien. It wasn't meant for humans. This potent stuff had been engineered by evolution to attract a mate from across vast miles of open sky.

And of course, to snare tasty prey like the Midnight Clad's crew.

The other women were draped on the deck, all of them squirming and moaning with pleasure. The sight was entrancing. Braxton's eyes couldn't help fix on Pritti and the way she stretched her limber, slender legs open and rubbed her fingers through the soft fabric of her panties, a small circular wet patch of arousal soaking through the offending piece of cloth.

He was so busy watching Ynshael stick her ass up in the air and finger her bare pussy with almost violent passion, he missed the twelve foot siren coiled up to one side over the bridge.

The creature loomed over Keeva, who was laying on her front, ass up in the air much like Ynshael was. Except her fingers dug into the deck as she pressed her cheek on the floor, eyes shut and expression contorted with stubbornness. She looked like she was fighting the influence the siren was imposing on her, struggling agiant the urge to let her fingers fly between her legs and delve knuckle deep into her sodden pussy.

In the confines of the bridge, Braxton could make out the smaller siren's features much clearer than when it had been soaring through the sky. A long, powerful snake like body with massive feathered wings and fins along the flanks of her sleek body for aerial control. The torso was equally sleek, shaped in an approximation of a humanoid woman, breasts devoid of nipples and covered in small tan-coloured scales. The face was somewhat flat, with large black eyes and a maw filled with razor sharp teeth, dripping with saliva as it considered Keeva's compromising position.

The siren reared up and a set of scales about where the crotch would be on a humanoid split open, revealing wet, pink flesh within. Slowly but surely, a long pink phallus with a tapered tip slid out of the wet folds, standing erect with a slight upward curve. And as the first penis slid out, a second slid out just beneath, both dripped clear precum from their tips with anticipation for this delectable treat squirming before it.

Cursing under his breath, Braxton swivelled and pulled the shotgun trigger. Thunder roared through the bridge, leaving a ringing in his ears. But when the smoke cleared, he saw the siren had turned to him, the birdshot intended to repel boarders while preventing accidental hull breach flattened on its scales.

Before he could rack and adjust his aim the siren rushed him, claws gleaming in the bridge lights. Braxton dove to one side, feeling the disturbance the claws left in the air just over his head. He hit the deck, rolled… then brought up empty hands.

He'd lost the shotgun in the tumble as the siren lashed out with its tail, smacking him in the chest. On his ass, Braxton crawled backwards to put more distance between him and the thing, until he crashed into something warm and trembling.

Slender blue arms wrapped around him, wet fingers smelling distinctly of female sexual gratification plastering the side of his face. Ynshael's slender leg then cocked around his waist as her other hand ran down to cup his crotch. She was moaning drunkenly, and holding him in place, her whole body grinding sensually against Braxton's back.

Given the pheromones in the air and the sexy sight of the women squirming with pleasure, Braxton couldn't help get erect. Except his mind was less on sex, and more on the siren now turning to pounce him, those hermipines bobbing in the air at eye-level.

Reaching back to push Ynshael off him, he felt something along the sleek curve of her hip. At first he felt a little weird running his hand over the hip of another woman. Then he realised what he was touching. The hard leather holster of Ynshael's gun-belt. And in it, a mechanical pistol captains were ought to wear at all times.

Snatching up the carved wooden handle, he drew the weapon with a click of the safety and aimed in both hands, feathering the trigger and not stopping till the weapon went click.

Through the flashes and smoke he saw the siren's trajectory towards him change. Blossoms of blood erupted across the siren's body as bullets went in way, then exploded out the other end giving the bridge a new paintjob. Where the bird shot had failed, steel tipped armour piercing ammunition succeeded.

The siren lashed about and writhed on the ground as Braxton wrestled out of Ynshael's weak grip. She could have held him down with her vampiric strength if she weren't preoccupied by trying to slide her fingers into her snatch all at the same time.

Braxton was almost encouraged to roll on top and help her out. His mind kept wandering as in its injured state the siren let out a doleful shriek. It was like nails on a chalkboard… and only served to make his erection throb painfully.

He'd heard siren songs before, and was thankfully among the scores of men who could at least somewhat resist their alluring call. It was all that kept him from dropping his trousers and rubbing one out as the thing violated his wife. But in this proximity there was no blocking it out. His mind wandered and he wondered for a second what Keeva might feel, those long wet members sliding into both her holes at the same time. Would she like it? Would she moan the same way she did when Braxton slid into her, or would her voice have more in common with a pricey whore?

Braxton slapped himself in the face – hard – and rolled to his feet, before rushing the siren. His mind wandered harder the closer he got. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and scoped up the shotgun as he moved. With a barbaric swing he jammed the spiked breaching choke into the thing's maw. It looked up at him, distinctly worried as he braced his shoulder on the stock, holding the siren down before working the pump-action and pulling the trigger with a sense of finality.

The siren's song ended with thunder… and a wet splat.

The Midnight Clad was not looking good. Venting gas, scored with clawmarks and barely limping through the sky, the female crew gathered on the bridge.

Braxton has been given leave to retire to the bunk room for food and rest. He'd spent the last three ours patching a tear in the cargo hold, tying off leaking gas and steam pipes and ensuring the furnace integrity wasn't compromised. Per his preliminary report they were on normal gas intake, but the output was at reduced pressure, and the thermal efficiency was down to a little above fifty percent.

The worst part of all this wasn't even the physical damage they'd taken on. Siren songs had a nasty effect on the libido of its victims. Even Miacinthe was restless, trapped in a nonbiological body with the unshakably biological need to mate… not even mate so to speak. She needed to fuck.

They all needed to fuck. Pritti wasn't even on her feet, curled in a ball where she sat hugging her knees, trying not to wiggle on the spot. Keeva could feel it too, the nagging need to run down and jump on Braxton's cock, regardless of what Ynshael was talking about.

“We're a week from port at Durnbihr at this pace," she said, somehow keeping the drow distain for the dwarven continent out of her voice. The usual dislike drow held for dwarves was replaced with some sort of desperate longing. Like she didn't care what she fucked, so long as she fucked someone lickety-split. “We're limping, and the aftereffects of the siren song is starting to take hold. I know you guys are feeling it too."

Keeva shifted from foot to foot, her legs crossed so that every time she moved there was a discreet bit of friction between her thighs. It was more an excitement than a relief though. “The Arkane Council prowler is long gone, so they can't even lend a tow. We're stuck out here for the time being," she said.

“Will we turn into helots?" Pritti asked in a small voice.

“Honestly that's the least of our concerns," Ynshael said oddly. As if becoming so insatiably horny that they turned into monsters and raped each other to death was somehow not a problem. “My main concern is the cargo hold damage.

They all, bar Miacinthe, managed a look of concern. But Ynshael waved it off as casually as she waved off the threat of becoming a helot. “Don't worry. Water and food supplies are fine. However, my blood rations took damage and the packet contents spoiled."

Keeva gasped. “Ynshael, you can't survive on normal food! How is this not a problem?"

Despite it all, Ynshael managed a little smile. “I have other ways of surviving." Seeing the way they looked, she again waved them down. “Don't worry. Nobody is going to have to start slitting wrists or sleeping with their necks covered. I can survive on other things other than blood." Her red eyes flitted over to Keeva. “Remember what I said in Dodd?"

Keeva was slow on the uptake until Miacinthe interjected. “You can feed on other bodily fluids."

The captain nodded. “Between my food shortage and our other… physical needs, it seems we're going to have to make a few adjustments. We're all mates here. We've been so for a long time. So we have to try and not be shy about each other."

“I'll be fine with Braxton," Keeva said slowly. “there's no fear of either of us turning into helots."

“And that's sort of what I'm talking about, Keeva. He's the only man for a week in any direction. I need his cum to feed on, and we all need a good fuck to prevent ourselves from turning on each other." Ynshael paused, looking a little sheepish, a look at didn't quite look right on her. “It's a big ask, I know. But I'm afraid you're going to have to share Braxton."

Keeva stared blankly, wondering when the hell the punchline was going to land. It didn't.

“What?" she said finally.

“I said…" Ynshael began, but Miacinthe suddenly stomped forward.

“You heard correctly! Stop pretending, you selfish whore!" she roared, the air about her turning terrible. It almost gave Keeva a headache, were it not for the sudden adrenaline rush as the towering construct, eyes now flaring fiery red with anger, charged towards her! “You're only thinking of yourself! You're going to leave us to turn and then kill us, aren't you!? Just so you can keep your claws in that man!"

Miacinthe seemed about to reach out and do something as terrible as her tone let on, except there was a squeal of straining metal and the construct was jerked back a few paces.

Ynshael had stepped in, closing her fist over Miacinthe's forearm and jerked her backwards with almost no effort at all.

“Stand down, Miacinthe!" she ordered firmly, brow furrowed in anger.

Ice cold water doused the situation in a second. Miacinthe stared as Ynshael slowly removed her hand, her grip having left a hand-shaped dent in the alloy on the construct's forearm. Her vampirism had other benefits on top of a pretty face.

The air about Miacinthe calmed, and her composed tone returned to their minds. “I'm sorry… I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." Her steely gaze shot to Keeva, her tone turning apologetic. “Keeva, I didn't mean to… I…"

“It's not you, Miacinthe," Ynshael interrupted. “It's the change. Not even you are immune to it."

“I didn't mean to say that," Miacinthe continued. “You're not selfish, Keeva. I understand your hesitation to share your husband. It's natural."

“Unfortunately, once we become helots the last thing of concern will be the harsh words we have for each other," Ynshael pointed out. “You've all heard the stories. I won't have to go into detail."

The construct nodded. “Of course. I'll have to link my feelings to another in order to satisfy myself. I've always found a link to the opposite sex works best, therefore I'm afraid Braxton De Witt is the logical choice."

Ynshael turned back to Keeva. “I'm sorry we have to push this on you, Keeva. We've been teasing you about having the hots for your husband this entire time, but suddenly Braxton has everything we need in order to survive as a team. Now I'm asking you, as your friend: will you share?"

The woman hesitated, staring between them, still coming to grips with how serious they were all being.

“Keeva," Ynshael said, her captainly tone drawing the woman from her trance. “Please don't make me turn it into an order."

Keeva put a hand over her mouth as if she was going to be sick, then backed off of the bridge. She almost stumbled down the steps to the midship and had to steady herself on the handrail. She left her crewmates thinking this was all wrong. This couldn't be real. It had to be a nightmare.

That was it. Any minute now she'd wake up to find she was still on Dodd with her loving husband, tangled in the sheets sodden by last night's lovemaking.

Except she didn't wake. She was still trapped in this hell, horny as fuck and forced to give her mates consent to have sex with her husband. Her Braxton!

Though by the time she reached the midship, her mind wandered into the various erotic possibilities.

An image flitted trough her mind's eye. She could see it as vividly as if it were happening before her; Braxton pressing Ynshael's face into the floor and pounding her until she wept with pleasure. Pritti's limber legs spread up beside her head and mewling loudly with Braxton's girth slurping in and out of her tight pussy. And Miacinthe watching it all, rolling around as she fed off the psychic pleasure of it all.

She imagined herself on her knees, side by side with the construct, mau and drow captain, their smouldering gazes turned up and tongues stuck out as Braxton systematically decorated their faces with his cum one at a time…

Keeva shuddered feeling a torrent of arousal trickle down her inner thigh. Her panties were sodden, and she wondered if she'd wet herself. Reaching down to touch, she shuddered again as a lance of pleasure punched her in the gut. Her legs shook and on her high heels her ankles nearly buckled.

Was this the siren's doing? Or was she this hot merely considering the prospect of sharing Braxton with her mates.

A realisation hit her. It was probably the latter. Her mates had all been with men before. They'd fucked, they'd squirted over cocks if their stories of past conquests were even half as true as they claimed. But they'd never felt Braxton inside them before. Now Keeva hadn't been with other men like the others. But she somehow knew, like it was some sort of divine knowledge handed down to her, that Braxton fucking them would be a once-in-a-lifetime event. They wouldn't have felt anything like it before.

Keeva desperately wanted to share that sensation with them. She wrenched open the bunk room door and by then her mind was made. She looked up to see Ynshael had followed her down the stairs looking concerned. But the expression evaporated into a relieved smile when Keeva flashed a grin, then earnestly nodded her head.

It felt a little weird, like a rush of excitement without actually doing anything exciting. It made her heart hammer and for a moment she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Then she stepped in and saw Braxton. It was a magnificent sight, more beautiful than a borealis glowing in the twilight sky, or a peek at Solus over the tips of Erth's northern mountains. He was perfect in every way as far as Keeva was concerned. And she wanted to share that perfection with her mates. Show them what they were missing out on. Maybe even make them jealous when this whole thing was over and the arrangement came to an end.

Braxton was laying back on his bunk, a discarded MRE pack on the floor and his eyes shut. He didn't seem to be sleeping, but didn't stir when Keeva clopped in on her noisy heels. He didn't move until she pressed her hands into the mattress beside him and leaned over.

Looking up he grinned. “How was the meeting?"

Keeva didn't say anything. She grabbed his shirt and pulled it up over his head, exposing his muscular chest where she immediately started running a line of kisses up towards his right nipple.

“Oh, that bad, huh?" Braxton managed as he pulled the shirt over his head.

Keeva still didn't say anything, one hand opening the front of his pants as she laid a hot passionate kiss on Braxton's lips. Her body was hot to the touch, that much he would be able to discern. He didn't seem to notice anything was awry, considering this was the appropriate response whenever Keeva was horny.

Except Braxton was not going to guess exactly why Keeva was as hot as she currently was. It wasn't because of the siren, but more because of her excitement to share this gorgeous man with her mates. She just didn't know if he was going to warm up to the idea. Gallantry ran thick in Braxton's veins, one of the reasons she loved him so. She was going to have to ease him into this the way she imagined all men were normally eased into doing something they were uncomfortable with.

His erection gripped firmly in one hand, Keeva broke the kiss and immediately planted her next on the very tip. She worshipped the length in both her hands, passionately licking and rubbing her lips across the head.

Keeva was alternating between sensually stroking his length with both hands and devouring the head of his cock when a figure swished in and sat down beside them. Ynshael had managed to creep in and close the door behind her without making so much as a peep. Even more curiously, she was missing her shirt and skirt, clad in only her high heels (which for some strange reason didn't make as much noise as Keeva's) and her hose.

Braxton raised an eyebrow, but didn't seem all that surprised to see her sneak up. “Uh, skipper? Would you mind giving us a sec here?"

She smiled wolfishly. “Considering the agreement Keeva and the rest of the crew just came to, I would mind, actually."

“Agreement? What…?" Braxton barely got the question out when Ynshael darted forward.

For a terrible moment he saw her mouth open wide and her vampiric fangs glint in the bunk room's lights and he was powerless to react. Then Keeva edged to one side and Ynshael fell into line on the other. Together, petite hands slick with saliva, they started rubbing up and down the shaft while Ynshael trapped the crown in her lips and lathered him up with her tongue. Keeva worked the shaft with her lips and tongue, each in their own way performing one part of a whole and complicated massage. Every inch, between their mouths and their hands, was worshipped.

Braxton's expression protested, but he couldn't fight the power of Ynshael's oral skills. Keeva had gone down on Braxton plenty of times in the past and done an amazing job. But it was only now he realised his wife, for all her practice, was an amateur. All he could do was dig his fingertips into the sheets and hold on for the ride of his life.

Several times Ynshael pushed Keeva aside and plunged down. His cock disappeared down her gullet where her powerful swallowing muscles massaged his length and her tongue cradled his balls. Not once did she gag, spit or retch, like her throat was a holster specifically designed for housing a cock his size. Looking down he even saw a noticeable bulge in her throat as she took him all in, gulping hungrily, desperate for the masculine milk churning in his balls. Not once did she lose her girly grace, her eyes elegantly shut and lips puckered over the base of his length.

As he was coming to grips what was happening, and finally worked up the strength to protest, considering his wife had just been shoved aside to watch longingly as another woman swallowed her husband's cock; Ynshael's large eyes flitted open and the hungry red gaze, silently begging him to release, tipped Braxton over the edge.

He soundlessly clenched then slammed is head back hard enough to hurt. At the same time his body convulsed and he gave Ynshael the load she so desperately longed for. Long drawn out convulses injected his seed down her throat directly into her belly. Ynshael gulped some more and didn't waste a drop of his delicious, thick seed. She was like a vampire drinking blood for the first time. Her eyes were aglow with pleasure and her breaths quickened as she licked him thoroughly as if wanting to get more.

With one final gulp, she sighed and caught her breath. “Oh, clouds! I love that taste. Feeding on a man's cum is so much better than his blood." She shuddered then bit her bottom lip, throwing Braxton a smouldering look. “Don't think that just because my hunger is sated that I'm fully satisfied."

Elegantly rising to her feet, she turned and bent over, parting her stance just a little. Her hairless quim, tight and glistening with excitement was on full display, ready to be filled. The perfect blue grey flesh of the drow girl on the cusp of breeding age that glistening with liquid arousal had Braxton standing on end with arousal in just a moment. There was something supernatural about drow, their women had always been like a visual aphrodisiac to human men, and Braxton's sensibilities versus Ynshael's jailbait appearance produced no exception.

Braxton gaped, then looked at Keeva who was smiling longingly.

“It's okay," she whispered, then ran a lick up the underside of his cock as if to prepare him for slipping it inside her best friend. “I want you to do it. I want to see my man give the same pleasure he gives me to another."

“I don't think I can."

“Of course you can. I want you to. Clouds, Braxton I need you to. Not just because of what we'll turn into because of those sirens."

Braxton bit his lip, thinking of helots. He'd seen helots in the wake of a siren attack before. He'd faced them and had been forced to pull some triggers he wished he hadn't. Helots were nasty business, and honestly, he'd grown a little attached to Ynshael and the others. He couldn't imagine having to defend himself from them if they turned into rabid monsters.

“I need you to do this because I want you to give Ynshael the pleasure you've only given me so far," Keeva whispered. “I'm the only woman you've ever been with, and I'm glad. But… I can't help but imagine what it would be like sharing you. I want to try. I want to see it. I want you to fuck her silly the same way you always do to me."

Braxton swallowed, a little bit of performance anxiety making his cock twitch. But he didn't soften. In fact, despite the trepidation, he'd never been harder in his life. The way Keeva was begging him to fuck another woman was the kind of turn on he never imagined would appeal to him.

“Okay," he finally said hoarsely. “But if you want me to stop, just tell me. I'll stop when you tell me."

She shook her head. “I won't tell you to stop. I love you, Braxton."

He smiled a little. “I love you too."

The moment was interrupted by a sharp cough. Ynshael was still standing by, wagging her ass at the air. “If you bloody sentimental humans are about done having your little moment, I'm still waiting to get fucked over here."

Grunting, Braxton climbed to his feet. Slowly, mind you. He was still uncertain about all this, and expected Keeva to freak out and scream at him to stop. She was quiet, bar a few sharp panting breaths, her eyes fixed on the way his cock bobbed with every step toward the captain.

Ynshael was twice as gorgeous as usual, bent over and standing on the tips of her toes to give her just an extra bit of height. Even that wouldn't be enough, and Braxton's practiced eye gauged he'd have to pick her up to fuck her from this angle. Her petite frame and youth suddenly hit Braxton in the face like a brick. Before, where she'd been throwing orders around with authority she seemed so totally mature. A woman well beyond her prime years.

And yet, bearing all to him, bent over to reveal that taught little ass atop her long slim legs… Braxton felt like he was about to commit the worst possible crime a man could commit.

Swallowing hard, he said, “Say, could we maybe keep this quiet?"

“Afraid fucking a woman other than your wifey will besmirch your honour?" Ynshael teased.

“Yes, but that's not the only reason to keep it quiet," he admitted. “I don't want to be branded as some kind of pervert, given Ynshael is built like a teenie-bopper."

Ynshael giggled over her shoulder, a sound that took off a few years from her appearance. Looking back she gave him the most innocent, smouldering glance her face was capable of. Braxton almost lost his erection.

“Get on with it, mister," the drow said in a small, exaggerated girly tone. “It's a school-night, y'know?"

Braxton threw her an unamused look, making her laugh in a more matured womanly tone again. “Oh, get over yourself, Braxton. You know as well as I do my body might be that of a teen, but I still got like eighty years on you, young man."

The facts were a bit of a comfort, but not much. The fact Keeva was laughing along was more of a relief.

Sidling up behind, he had to squat just a little in order to line the crown up with her opening. But beyond that, everything else happened on automatic. Her flesh parted so easily that he slipped into her tight crevasse with relative ease. Her whole body flexed and her ankles buckled, but with Braxton's hands on her slim waist, almost small enough he could wrap his fingers all the way around, he was able to hold her up.

Bit by bit he sank into her tight wet hole, her silken tunnel tightening all around. She was tighter than Keeva, tighter even than his wife's mouth, or even the few times she'd wrapped her hands around his cock and jerked him off.

She was also light. His erection alone was just about all Braxton needed to hold her up.

In one deep thrust he swept her off her trembling legs and Ynshael keened with delight, her right foot twitching in time with her left eyelid. Her tongue hung out of her mouth as she panted like a dog, feeling that enormous trunk of meat hilt itself inside her. The head kissed her cervix just right, a button that hadn't been touched in quite a while.

“Keeva, you greedy bitch," the drow moaned at the ceiling. “Why have you been keeping this magnificent cock all to yourself this whole time!?"

Keeva didn't answer as Braxton started fucking her in earnest. She wasn't quite home right then. Her eyes were widely fixed on the visible bulge that formed in Ynshael's belly every time Braxton thrust forward. He was so big in her petite frame her stomach swelled about half an inch. She was full to the core, every nook and cranny of her pussy stuffed to breaking point. And still Ynshael was moaning, her expression silly with pleasure while her feet dangled off the ground and a stream of femcum ran down her inner thigh and trickled off the heel of her right shoe.

“What's it like, Keeva?" Ynshael panted teasingly. “What's it like watching another woman give your man a good tight fuck for a change?"

Keeva didn't answer. She was unable to keep her hands off herself watching Braxton pound her best friend with reckless abandon. She'd ripped open her shirt and squeezed her nipples with one hand, while the other pressed her digits through the sodden fabric of her panties. It really was starting to look like she was wetting herself, a small wet patch beginning to transfer onto the bunk sheets as she began grinding her hips back and forth a little.

Even having cum a few minutes ago, Keeva could see in Braxton's movements that he was working up to another orgasm. With Ynshael squirting practically from his first thrust into her, she was feeling the same tells as he swelled inside her tight canal and cooed for him to release.

“That's it. You can feel it, cant you? Go ahead and cum inside your little drow princess. I bet Keeva can't make you cum this quickly."

The sweet encouragement rolling past Ynshael's lips was more than enough to see him the rest of the way. Braxton pulled the drow girl back, holstering his cock all they way inside her, drawing a high-pitched squeal from the captain. Moments later he spilled a load as thick and as copious as the first into her belly.

Ynshael set her nails into the bunks she used for support, legs twitching uncontrollably as she was filled to overflow. Even with her pussy forming a tight seal over the shaft lodged inside her, some cum bubbled from her lips and ran down her leg. Keeva darted over, desperate to taste her husband. She licked it up in one go, then as Braxton lifted Ynshael off his cock with a wet plop and a gurgle of cum now running freely from her canal, Keeva did her best to catch every escaping glob before it hit the floor.

She ran her tongue up Ynshael's sleek, silk-clad thighs as swallowed several loads before pressing her mouth to the dark blue skin between her legs, lapping and sucking at the raw fucked to extract more of her husband's essence.

The feel of her communications officer excitedly licking at her made the captain giggle. “Ah-ah-ah! Share with your captain, Petty Officer De Witt."

Holding enough cum in her mouth to bulge her cheeks a little, Keeva licked up Ynshael's thigh one last time before the drow sank down onto her haunches and the duo kissed deeply. Like a pair of college thots kissing on a dare, their lips parted to make a show of how they were making plenty use of their tongues to boot.

It was by no means a simple sight one might gander on a typical Monday morning. Keeva's sodden panties, his wife and the tight drow girl swapping his cum back and forth before each swallowing their respective loads. It was more than enough to get Braxton hard again.

Holding Keeva's shaking body against her, Ynshael peered up at him. Her fingers tweaked the human woman's panties down over her ass, and Braxton half expected his wife to present for a dose as well.

Except… “Perhaps we'll give your hubby some time to recharge, eh, Keeva?" There was a irate moan from the woman and Ynshael added, “Don't worry. I'll take care of you."

Her panties down, Ynshael pushed Keeva onto her bed and spread her long legs apart with a hand on each thigh. She didn't waste a breath before tucking into her meal, pressing her lips against Keeva's sodden yoni and slipping her tongue between the folds. Keeva reacted immediately, her back arching in a way only Braxton had made her do before today. He was almost jealous.

“Don't you have repairs to get done, Mister De Witt?"

Braxton cleared his throat and quickly dressed to back out of the room, feeling just a little more like a sex toy than a member of the crew.

There was plenty left to do. Braxton didn't have much with which to patch the hull and control surfaces, but he could work on the pressure loss since the gas storage tanks were internal. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about the engine rupture. They'd have to make do with inefficient temperature regulation, as patching the furnace could only be done once it fully cooled, and even after the patch would need tempering which could sometimes take a whole day.

Fortunately, Baxton was able to trace most of their propulsion problems to plumbing. Gas was escaping through rents in piping or seals and old patches that had juddered loose in the fight. He'd just have to seal those off and they'd at least be limping rather than dragging themselves one-armed through the sky.

As he moved to the engineering deck however, Braxton heard the heavy slam of blocky high heels behind him. Turning he saw Miacinthe stoop to enter the deck. And even then she had to remain at a slouch, top of her head brushing the grate above.

“Miacinthe, can I-… hey!"

Braxton cried out as Miacinthe grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him against the nearest wall. The piping rattled where he was firmly held in place, the construct slinking her powerful, lithe body up against him. She was taller than him by about a head, and could probably snap him like a twig if she wanted to.

And while her empathetic presence did allude to some frustration and aggression where her expressionless doll-face did not, Braxton didn't get the sense of imminent violence aside from her rough actions.

“I heard the captain's cries. Clearly you and your wife have agreed to the terms of the arrangement. I will require my share now," she said firmly, an unusual tinge of desperation broadcast alongside her voice.

“Y-your share?" Braxton asked with some confusion.

He looked her up and down, realising he hadn't been privy to whatever arrangement Keeva had negotiated with the captain. But aside from that complicated little political affair, Braxton had no idea where to even begin with this.

He assumed he was being pimped about the ship so they didn't all turn into helots. And to do so with Ynshael, Keeva and Pritti, he knew what to do. But with Miacinthe, where in the fuck was he meant to begin?

Sensing his confusion, Miacinthe squatted down low with her thighs open wide so her face was level with his crotch. Her golden eyes looked straight ahead, fingers expertly moving to open the front of his pants.

“My empathetic abilities allow me to derive pleasure from another. All I need to do to satisfy myself is to bring you to orgasm. That being said, by current chasse does not carry the necessary attachments to pleasure you conventionally." The glow in her eyes intensified a little and Braxton got a mental sense of a smirk from her. “My oral cavity might serve this purpose, however."

Her lips parted into something of an O-face, and indeed Braxton saw what she was talking about. She didn't have a mouth behind her lips, so to speak. But rather a tight silicone passage through which she took in the oil maintaining her moving internal parts. It was like something one might find 'downstairs' on a sex-doll, and Braxton wondered if a detachable fleshlight was what Miacinthe had meant about the necessary attachments to pleasure him conventionally.

She didn't give him much time to argue, her head pressing forward, lips wrapping around the head of his cock. There wasn't a wetness that he had been expecting, but the silicone passage was as tight as Ynshael's throat, though softer and more yielding. It was slippery as well; the same way silk was naturally slippery on bare flesh. Dry but so smooth, it felt actually quite amazing. Braxton almost threw his head back and cracked his skull on the hull.

She took him effortlessly down to the base, her pouted bottom lip and chin pressing hard against his balls. Then just as quickly she'd raise her head backwards until just the head was puckered between her lips. All the while maintaining a firm seal, she'd thrust back down again.

Only her neck and head moved, mechanically shifting forward and back while her hands pressed down his hips so he couldn't escape. But at the rate she moved her mouth as if it were a hand jerking him off, he wouldn't want to move. Firmly she thrust down, then rose up, then thrust down again, fucking him with her mouth. She didn't blink, her eyes blankly gazing into his abdomen as she sucked tirelessly like it was her duty.

It was impossible for Braxton to hold back for very long, despite Ynshael's treatment just now. His body rose to an orgasm it didn't even realise it was capable of. Miacinthe, linked in empathetically, followed suit.

Braxton heard alien moans, not sure where they were coming from at first. It took some time to realise they were Miacinthe's. She sounded unusually girly, cooing sweetly in is mind as she came along with him, feeding satisfaction off his release deep into her gullet.

As they came together, one literal and the other metaphysically, Miacinthe pulled her head back until the cock popped from her lips and she tipped her face back. Her gorgeous golden eyes stared up at him as her lips closed, and the final few spurts of Braxton's orgasm decorated her austere aspect.

She didn't flinch as with every twitch of Braxton's cock, a long stream of cum shot from the tip and painted up across her face. Long strings of pearly cum laid across one eye, over the bridge of her nose and across her full, soft lips. It was a rather amazing sight, regardless of how little she reacted physically by being painted with his seed like a king marking his whore.

Her moans died down slowly, and there was a faint echo of her satisfaction lingering in the back of Braxton's head as Miacinthe stood up again.

Back again was the all-business construct.

“Good," she said, her androgynous tone back, but laced with slightly husky femininity in the wake of her satisfaction. “This will tide me over. Thank you, Braxton."

She turned and walked away, either not realising there was cum all over her face, or not caring.

“Any time," Braxton panted breathlessly, his dick hanging in the air as his mind reeled to figure out what the fuck had just happened.

Several days of keeping Miacinthe calm but also saving enough cum to feed Ynshael three to four times a day quickly took its toll Braxton. However, where there was a will there was certainly a way. And they quickly found a routine that worked for everyone.

Pritti was holding up great with just her fingers, and Miacinthe didn't necessarily need Braxton's cock inside her in order to empathetically connect. She just needed physical contact. So she would use her hand to stroke him off, while his lips remained fixed on Keeva's, and Ynshael skilfully ate his wife's pussy. And when he was ready to blow, Miacinthe would jack him off into Ynshael's mouth.

Everyone was a winner in this erotically efficient crew.

It was lucky Keeva was more than satisfied by Ynshael's tongue as well as sharing her husband. She could practically get off just watching Ynshael climb in Braxton's lap and ride him harder and faster than she had ever done herself. The way Ynshael's expression twitched and how she squealed with ecstasy, squirting all over her Braxton every night filled Keeva with pride rather than jealousy.

Braxton was still on the fence concerning this deal though. He'd never been stretched so thin in his life. Of course, Keeva was always insatiably horny when she came home to him, but even then they only made love two or three times a day after a long dry-spell. On board the Midnight Clad his sex life followed his mealtime routine. Every day, fucking for breakfast, lunch and dinner, with in-between snacks whenever Ynshael or Miacinthe had the fancy.

And even with all the gorgeous women on board lusting for him, he did miss holding Keeva close and making her toes curl with pleasure.

Creeping onto the bridge, more accidentally than on purpose, Braxton found Pritti in the state she'd been in the entire ordeal so far. She'd taken the damage to the Midnight Clad a little more personally than Braxton had. Whereas it was his job to fix whatever damage was done, Pritti had taken it upon herself as the one responsible to have avoided the damage in the first place.

She'd spent this whole time on the bridge, constantly pouring over charts and star-maps to make sure they were still limping on the right course, always announcing she was making some miniscule course correction; anything to make their trip to Durnbihr more efficient. She'd even taken to eating and sleeping on the bridge, wanting to man her post twenty-four-seven.

She'd set up a little cot under the flagging station as Keeva had literally nothing and no-one to flag out here. It was like a bird's nest made of intermingled sheets, pillows and a few empty ration packs.

Pritti herself wasn't sleeping. Sat on the raised step of the helm, looking straight down at herself. Her skirt was missing and one hand slipped under her open shirt, the outline of her hand clearly tweaking and twisting at her nipple. Her other hand was down between her thighs, fingers delving in and out of her pussy, the light pink flesh between the curtains of fur glistening with overflowing desire.

And despite her vigorous pace, she grumbled with frustration, finally giving up with a groan. Her fingers popped from the wet orifice and she crossed her legs, rocking back and forth mumbling in mau something under her breath.

“You don't look so good," Braxton suddenly said, startling her. Her massive eyes jumped up, betraying a mixture of frustration, desperation and fear.

“Sorry," Braxton apologised. “I didn't mean to scare you."

Pritti released the breath she realised she'd been holding, then sheepishly scratched at her shock of reddish-tan hair. “Is okay, Master Braxton. Pritti is just… frustrated."

“You know it's dangerous to keep that to yourself, especially after the siren…" Braxton began to say, but she perked up and shook her head vigorously.

“No. Is not that. Pritti's fingers always good to satisfy Pritti's needs. Just… my home is limping."

Braxton nodded to indicate he understood, just in case Pritti got more frustrated about failing to convey what it was she was feeling. “Still, that can't be helping your heat any."

He walked over and sat down beside her. Heat was a metaphorical thing in the mau, just a term to convey the nymphomaniac caged in every mau woman from the moment she came of age. It had little to do with a cyclic instinct to mate and procreate, and more to do with how much mau women just loved to fuck. But Pritti was starting to rock over into a more literal interpretation of the term. Sitting beside her, Braxton could literally feel the heat radiating off her and couldn't help subconsciously reach up and undo the top button of his shirt.

Pritti grunted, her keen eyes flitting towards him, then shyly back to the ground. Where had that confident, promiscuous young woman from before gone? Now she was in actual heat she was oddly reserved, holding back her desire to just jump in Braxton's lap and ride until she had her fill. Braxton suddenly caught the sense she really desperately wanted to have sex with Braxton, but was suddenly too shy to ask.

“Pritti, do you want to try and… uh… y'know?" he drew her eyes to the cot.

She didn't answer. Not with words anyway. Pritti bounced to her feet and walked to the cot, slipping out of her shoes as she did. She didn't wear the tights like the rest of the crew, due to her fur, and her skirt and panties were already missing. Instead of presenting herself partially clothed like a young lover too busy to undress fully for sex, Pritti shrugged off her shirt then sank into her cot, spreading her legs like an expectant wife on her wedding night.

Braxton took the cue. It still felt just a little odd, even knowing Keeva would approve. A couple of weeks ago he never would have dreamt of sleeping with any other woman than his wife. Even jerking off to a magazine, the pictured woman a complete stranger, had felt totally wrong. Now there he was, undressing before he crawled between the thighs of another woman – another species even.

Her fur was soft and fluffy against his skin, and her lean thighs tightened around him as he crawled in on top of her. Pritti's tight, gymnastic body was quite lean, but not at all unpleasant. He was erect the moment she had shrugged off her shirt and turned to face him. Her breasts were smaller than even Ynshael's but they were pert. Her nipples stood out, hard from her arousal and there was an inviting flicker of sexual energy in her eyes that held Braxton's attention, as if it were some sort of natural lure on a sexual predator.

Her hands were all over him immediately. He felt one arm hook around his back, her claws lightly racking up the firm muscles lining his spine. The other slid down over his abdomen before her soft, silky palm engulfed his member. It was like sliding into the embrace of a woman's body and made him tense. Pritti at the same time gasped, tightening her grip and exploring up and down the length with her fingers, as if gauging its size in awe.

“Pritti heard mistress' moans," she whispered excitedly in his ear, obviously referring to the way Ynshael had been screaming the walls down with Braxton's cock inside her. “Pritti wants to try."

He wouldn't keep her waiting. Rocking his hips forward, he felt Pritti spread her thighs right down to the deck, her heels pressing against his sides as if afraid if she let go of any part of him, he'd jump up and leave. Her hand guided him to her hot slit and they both gasped at the same time.

Pritti's eyes fluttered shut and she arched her back, feeling her moist lips speared apart by the immense member invading her depths. Braxton pressed his forehead into her shoulder, clenching as Pritti's sheer heat washed over him. Her juices were at boiling point, her body squeezed like a silken vice. How she was tighter than Ynshael was a mystery to him, but Pritti didn't once yelp or balk as he stretched her open to what must have been breaking point.

Instead, Pritti was a mewling, drooling, sex-drunk kitty, her lithe body squirming in pleasure under him, her hard nipples grazing his chest as she took him in completely.

“Is Pritti good for master?" She gasped with a little squeak as the head of Braxton's cock pressed against her cervix. “Is Pritti tight and wet enough?"

Braxton was holding his breath, trying to put his mind elsewhere so he wouldn't burst right away just entering her warmth. Her little 'coos' and 'aaah's between every other sweet word wasn't helping. “You feel amazing, Pritti," he assured.

“Pritti can be tighter. Does master want Pritti tighter? Pritti can be better."

He quickly cupped her cute face in one hand to make her stop. “Just… relax. Let me take care of you."

She bit her lip, then her eyes crossed as Braxton began to pull out, then smoothly slid all the way back into her again. His shaft hilted her body, the head judged her cervix and sweet moans began to drift out between her gaping lips. Her back arched again and her eyes fluttered shut as Braxton began to pick up the pace.

Bit by bit he began to speed up until the bridge was filled with the sounds of Pritti's mewling cries and wet fur slapping on bare skin. As quickly has he picked up the pace however, Braxton quickly dialled it back when she set her nails in his back.

“Slow," she begged in a whisper. “Please… Pritti likes slow."

He gave her what she wanted. Long, slow and deep thrusts. He would hold a moment at the apex of each stroke, savouring the tingle of pleasure prickling down through his loins while Pritti flexed against him as if wanting to drive him deeper into her womb. Each thrust his head kissed her innermost depths, scratching that itch that couldn't be reached by her fingers. Bit by bit he could feel himself rise to orgasm, agonizingly slowly, all the while fighting his body's instinct to hold this mewling kitty down and frantically fuck her tight hole until he exploded inside her.

It reminded him very much of his wedding night with Keeva. They had both wanted the night to last forever, so they had taken their time. But as with all things, eventually something had to give.

“This is how master's wife must feel. Does master always please Miss Keeva like this?" Pritti began to shudder, barely keeping her voice steady anymore. “Pritti is so jealous."

Then it came. The dam broke on Pritti's side and her whole body shook. She locked her ankles behind his back, set her nails into his shoulder blades so hard he was sure she'd drawn blood. But he didn't stop. He put two sudden quick thrusts into her, then felt that torrent of heat wash over his cock as he began to swell, balls churning to release his load inside her.

Pritti came in the meantime, squirting and shuddering, mewling out “yes" and “thank you, thank you master."

Cum flooded Pritti's womb a moment later, drowning the flames of her heat and leaving the mau woman deeply satisfied.

III

The lights of Durnbihr's port were visible, like crimson stars far off in the twilight skies. None of the port's details were visible, even through a spyglass, and it'd take them a while to get there. But they were in sight. It was almost over.

Keeva still impatiently yearned for port. She had to get Braxton off this skyship so she could have him to herself for just a little while. She was of course enjoying sharing him more than she realised. But standing on the bridge between Pritti and Miacinth, Keeva could simply not stop herself from shifting from foot to foot, wagging her hips as if trying to use her thighs to stoke – or in this case, smother – a fire burning between her legs.

She needed Braxton's cock inside her. Duty roster be damned. She couldn't hold out any longer. Ynshael had been hogging Braxton as her human ration-pack for almost a solid week. And Ynshael's tongue could only satisfy Keeva so much.

She snapped. Without a word she whipped about on her heel and made her way down to crew quarters.

What she found there came as almost no surprise whatsoever.

Braxton was flat on his back between the bunks, Ynshael's petite frame keeping him pinned. She had planted her heels on the deck either side of his waist, and was squatted down, riding the man smooth and deep like an automaton made specifically for fucking. All Braxton could do was hold on to her ankles as Ynshael kept her hands on the bunks either side of her and stared through Keeva as she barged in.

Though stared was perhaps being altogether too charitable. Ynshael wasn't so much looking as she was staring at her own brain. Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head, only crescents of her red irises visible as her tongue rolled out of her mouth and a thin line of drool swung back and forth from her chin.

“Really, skipper? Again?" Keeva almost exclaimed, but managed to keep her voice somewhat under control.

“My personal vending machine worked up another fresh batch after I fed," she said, half moaning and half blubbering the words out, “and I simply couldn't let it go to waste."

“You're funny," Braxton grunted sarcastically.

“And pretty," she agreed with a crocodile-smile. “Can I help you with something, Keeva?" she added as if only just noticing her there.

Sinking down to her haunches, Keeva threw Ynshael a desperate look. Her fingers had delved into her panties and there was a wet sucking noise to go with the wet noises of the drow's tight pussy getting rammed again and again.

“I'm glad you're enjoying my Braxton, Ynshael. But can I maybe have my husband back for a few minutes? Please?"

“Awww, why? I only just got started!" The captain whined like a spoilt daughter being told to stop playing and go do chores. “Five more minutes?"

Even as she said it, her hips bucked and were it not for Braxton holding her steady she would have buckled at the ankles. At the same time a torrent of girl-cum washed down over his balls, already soaked by Ynshael's frantically free-flowing lust.

Keeva gritted her teeth. She didn't want to disrespect her captain or offend her best friend. But this just couldn't stand.

Sighing with frustration she did the only thing she could think of. Keeva lunged forward and lifted Ynshael clean off her husband's cock with a wet pop. Then tucking the teeny vampire like a child having a tantrum under one arm, marched to the midship and deposited her, barely clothed, outside.

“This is technically insubordination, Keeva!" Ynshael shouted as she came to her senses, her sentence almost cut short by Keeva slamming the bulkhead in her face.

“Court-martial me!" Keeva yelled at the door, then whipped around and literally leapt on top of Braxton.

He didn't stand a chance. But it's not like he would have gotten up if he could have. He caught Keeva as she threw herself on him, in such a hurry she barely tore open her shirt and only just managed to rip her panties to one side.

His member was still warmed by Ynshael's juices when Keeva pressed the crown to her lips and sank down.

“Finally-eeeeeeee~!" Keeva said, sinking down with a long, contented sigh.

Braxton chuckled, his cock twitching happily in her tight, wet sheath. “Home sweet home."

She joined in the chuckle and leaned forward, pressing her red lips to his. She rode Braxton with a frantic pace she'd never opted for before. She was more ravenous than after a six-month deployment that had separated them some years ago. She kissed him so hard she was biting his bottom lip and screeching into his mouth as her ass slapped his lap again and again.

But despite her aggression, there was no place Braxton would rather be.

For all the sex he'd had this trip, for all the positions he'd twisted Ynshael's tight nubile body into, the way Pritti had laid under him like an eager concubine and how Miacinthe aggressively lusted after him; there never was anything quite like holding the woman you loved with all your heart close and making her toes curl with pleasure.

The simplest things in life always were the best.

Captain Ynshael had last watch that night. Frankly, it might be the last night-watch for a while. The Durnbihr ports were so close now she didn't need her spyglass to spot them anymore. Still, at their limping pace it would be daybreak when they arrived in port. They'd be able to resupply, get more extensive repairs done and rest up before making the final run on to Erth. With a fully operational skyship, that trip wouldn't take nearly as long.

Ynshael glanced over her shoulder, hearing the heavy thuds of Miacinthe coming up the steps. She looked fresh as ever despite the early hour, and Ynshael was half jealous of her construct body. Imagine being a tireless fuck machine?

Ynshael did her best, but she'd never live up to the calibre Miacinthe was capable in that department. Possibly the only thing keeping manfolk in the skies from going extinct was Miacinthe's respocible approach. Just because she could fuck nonstop for weeks, doesn't mean she did.

“Can't sleep?" she asked.

Miacinthe shrugged. “I don't really need any more. You should take a nap, captain. I have this."

Quirking a thankful grin, she patted Miacinthe on the arm then moved down to the bunk room. Quietly as she could so not to wake the others, she shut the door behind her and set the latch. Inside, cut off from the churn and grumble of the engine, everything was quiet.

Pritti was finally sleeping in her bed again, laying face down, her snores muffled by her pillow. Her tail swished about on its own accord as she dreamed. It was probably a good dream, considering her ass was stuck up in the air and her fingers had slid into the front of her panties.

Keeva and Braxton lay buck naked on their bunk, the man on his back with his wife curled up beside him, her head resting on his muscular chest. At the looks of things, they'd fucked themselves to sleep, Braxton's large member still wet with Keeva's juices laying limp across his abs.

Seeing that massive thing lay there in the open air, Ynshael felt her stomach grumble a little. She hadn't eaten quite enough before Keeva caught up on lost time with her hubby. Perhaps now she was all tuckered out, Ynshael would finally get a little midnight snack.

Doubling over she gently took the cock between her dainty fingers, feeling it throb in response to her touch. Getting it hard was easy from there. She laid one slow, agonizing lick from the base of his stem, all up the underside right to the top. Every inch smelled and tasted of Keeva's lovely pussy, a taste she appreciated as much as Braxton's essence.

She could feel his pulse on her tongue as she worked up and down, then finally trapped the swollen head between her lips.

It didn't take her long to get what she wanted. Her throat was built to suck even the most resilient man's balls dry in ten seconds flat. To Braxton's credit, he lasted twelve. The swallowing action, the tight wetness of her throat; she felt Braxton's body tense as he subconsciously thrust deeper into her gullet. Her lips puckered about the base and she stuck out her tongue to cradle the balls for good measure. She could feel those semen factories work overtime to produce a fresh load just for her before the churning load of cum surged up through the shaft and flowed directly down her throat.

Wave after wave she gobbled it down, the thick, slimy warmth crawling down into her now contented belly.

Lifting her head, the cock slipped from her lips with a wet pop before she clicked it clean from base to tip. It went completely soft by the time she was done and she playfully trapped her new favourite toy between her lips a few times before retreating back to her own bunk.

The warmth in her belly was comforting, and the aftertaste was simply divine. Cum feeding was always better than blood in Ynshael's honest opinion, but even then Braxton's taste was the best she'd had thus far.

And while he was aboard, Captain Ynshael wondered if there was any point resupplying her blood packs.