The 5th Gender, page 9
part #1 of Tinkered Stars Series
Drey was unbelievably delighted with the whole experience.
“It is not pre-cum. It is…” Tris lost his explanation to another shuddering trill as Drey slid his big hand up and down again.
Drey flushed and his own neglected cock, trapped in his pants and throbbing with need, jerked at the implication of these words. “Are these tiny orgasms, baby?”
Tris whined and convulsed when Drey stopped jacking him, just cupped his big hand about the swollen ring of flesh at the base.
“Yesss,” hissed Tris, hair frantic. He pushed against Drey’s unmoving grip, trying to get Drey’s hand to stroke again.
“But you can’t entirely climax this way, can you?”
“No, but it is good. Very good.”
Drey stood abruptly, suddenly desperate to get naked himself.
Tristol’s eyes blinked opened and he smiled up at him, a slow display of sharp teeth.
Drey wondered what those teeth would feel like on him and then remembered what Tris had implied about preferences and antiga, so decided just to ask.
“Would you nibble on me a bit, Tris? Don’t break skin. It’s just for the sensation.”
Tris trilled again, either overcome with the idea or from being asked to perform a service, it was hard to know which. Then Drey was distracted from removing his pants because Tris surged to his feet and was all over him. He remembered what Drey had said about his nipples and he’d been paying close attention to Drey’s reaction when he nuzzled his neck. He started by nipping him lightly all over the throat and upper chest working his way down to Drey’s nipples and then back up again.
Drey’s skin tingled at the sharp pinpricks from pointed teeth. It was an amazing sensation. He’d always liked being bitten but humans had such blunt square teeth. Tristol’s were sharper. Drey almost forgot he was taking his pants off.
Almost.
Finally, he was naked.
Tris shifted against him, leaned back a moment and suddenly everything stopped.
Drey blinked his eyes open.
Tristol was staring down at Drey’s cock in either horror or amazement. “Drey, when you get very aroused your penis turns purple! For me?”
“Comes with the heritage, baby. You like?”
“Purple, Drey!”
“But not lavender, I’m afraid.”
“No, it is a dark violet shade. It is beautiful. I didn’t know humans could be purple.”
“Only that part.”
“Purple forever,” trilled Tris.
“Christ, I certainly hope not. That brings new shades to the term blue balls.”
Then Tris was back pressed against him, teeth clamping about his trapezius muscle, one slender leg wrapped around Drey’s thigh, the other on toe-tips, rubbing his lube-slick cock against Drey.
Drey’s knees gave out and he fell backward, Tris plastered atop him. They landed back in the soft cloud of Tristol’s nest. Tristol’s lean lavender body gloriously sprawled over Drey.
Tris was trilling again, but his movements were increasingly frenzied now. His hips swiveled desperately, and his trills were almost keens of want. He’d produced a lot of that amazing almost-cum slick. It oiled their bellies and made Drey so hungry for the man’s ass his vision was clouding.
Suddenly Tris shifted back, leaning up on Drey’s chest. His eyes were a deep midnight purple.
“Drey,” he forced out words instead of trills but the music was there, in them, drawing out the consonants, fluttering vowels. “I need you inside. I need—”
Drey thought that sometime it would be fun to draw this out. To push that sinuous lavender body until Tris had no words at all. Until he forgot everything. But not this first time. Because fuck, Tris was right – Drey needed to be inside him like nothing else.
But Drey was also on the larger end of the spectrum and he’d never taken a man without a lot of preparation. Charmed by the fact that he could reach for Tristol’s cock instead of the lube, he stroked up and gathered a pulse of slick from his lover’s slit, then reached down and around, inserting one finger very gently.
Tris trilled and pulsed and gyrated on top of him.
“Okay baby, I’ll give it to you, I promise. Calm down.”
But Tris seemed almost manic now. Lost. He sat back hard on Drey’s finger, grabbed at his own cock, not in order to get himself off, but in order to gather more slick. Then he reached behind himself and began to coat Drey’s cock, eyes glazed in concentration. His touch was very light and gentle, which Drey supposed was an indication that he should keep his own that way. He’d have to tell Tris that he needed a firmer grip to climax. Tris harvested more lube from his own cock and then stroked Drey again, face blissful, learning the size and weight of Drey. Clever fingers dipped to explore his balls, which Drey supposed Tris probably found unusual and intriguing. Or he hoped he did – Drey loved to have them played with. But Tristol’s focus quickly returned to Drey’s cock and trying to get it inside him as soon as possible.
Drey was not about to deny him. He’d have to be insane to do that. But he did urge caution.
“Wait, baby, I’m really big. We need to stretch—”
But Tris was beyond that. Too impatient to hear reason.
Tris arched up, yanked himself off Drey’s finger, and batted his hands away. He shifted back, finding Drey’s cock, and impaled himself in one swift, sure movement.
That would have broken most human men. Even with Drey’s one long-term boyfriend, they’d needed a great deal of prep work every time. Drey just had to hope that Tristol’s alien biology made him different. He watched the galoi’s face closely. There was absolutely no pain there, just pure bliss. Tristol’s purple eyes were closed, his head was thrown back but he sank unflinchingly down. It was, without question, the most beautiful thing Drey had ever seen in his entire life.
Drey brought his hands to the man’s lavender hips to keep him still, to force him to at least acclimatize to Drey’s girth and length. Tris was already writhing on him. But he could do nothing more than undulate as Drey held him firm, a lot stronger than he was.
Tris opened his eyes and glared.
“I need to move, please, Drey?”
For the first time he noticed Drey’s concerned expression. As if now that Drey’s cock was exactly where Tris wanted it to be, he remembered that cock was attached to a person, and that person was worried about him.
The lavender returned to his eyes. His features, taut with need, relaxed a little.
“Drey,” he murmured, and then bent over to nuzzle Drey’s chest hair. “Drey, I am well.” He shifted forward, off Drey’s cock, to press his cheek to Drey’s beard. “Drey, loga are made for this. You are a little longer than most antiga but that is good.” He sank back, showing Drey how much he enjoyed it. “Since you have no barb, you will hit me just right inside. Please move, somate, please.”
Drey suspected Tris had found him a pet name. Somate. He liked it. He also figured the man knew his own body, certainly better than Drey did, so he relaxed his grip.
Tris lifted himself up with a small moan and then dropped down onto him hard with a trill of bliss. Drey watched as his full length disappeared into Tristol’s willing body. Tristol’s own cock pulsed and released as he bottomed out – clearly there was something like a prostate deep inside him that Drey’s cock hit and caused him profound pleasure. He suspected that was what Tris meant when he said he required penetration.
“What do you need, baby? Deep is good but do you want long and slow or fast and hard?” God, he wanted to take him. He wanted to flip Tris over and pound into him and forget everything. He’d never done that. Never felt with a human lover that he could be so forceful. They were too easy to damage with his stupid-big dong.
But Tris seemed to be sinking down ever harder each time. Driving himself onto Drey with such force Drey would have winced, had Tris been human. But he clearly wasn’t in any pain at all. Drey was going to have to trust this. Trust him.
Tris opened his eyes once more. They were dark purple again. “I need it as hard as you can go, oh please.”
So Drey did as his lover required, and as Drey wanted, and flipped Tris to lie on his back, and drove into him.
Tris wound strong lavender legs around Drey’s hips and Drey pistoned, deep and fast, searching Tristol’s face and his cock for the right reaction, until Drey knew exactly the correct angle (different location than the prostate, definitely deeper and more toward the tailbone) and let himself go completely. He fucked Tris hard as he wanted, watching with spine-tingling rapture as Tristol came totally apart beneath him. Losing all his words to moaning trills and eventually a melodic purring wail. Drey’s stomach became coated in the most slippery cum ever, and he realized, surprised, that he too was climaxing, pulsing deep inside this perfect man.
He didn’t collapse onto Tris. Drey was ever aware of his size with his lovers, in all ways, but he did want to stay connected. So he cradled around the limp purple body, and lifted and twisted so that Tris was sprawled on top of him once again.
Tristol’s hair formed a lazy undulating luminescence around them. It was restful and calming like kelp under the ocean. Although Tris himself was utterly boneless and satiated, his hair still managed a gentle dance, caressing whatever parts of Drey it could reach, lovingly.
Drey had to check. “Okay, baby?”
Tris gave a slow slurred trill of sleepy happiness.
“Can I touch your hair?”
Another little trill, which Drey took as permission. He was learning much about his lover’s pleasure already and gloried in it.
Gently, very gently, he smoothed one hand down the waving strands. Tris melted against Drey even more, if possible. So Drey kept petting, marveling at the silken softness.
The trills resolved themselves eventually into galoi words, and from there into galactic standard. “So good,” Tris was saying, over and over and over, and mixed into that, “so mine, gonna stay, Drey, please, so good, so mine, gonna stay,” and it was a litany of claiming that drove itself straight into Drey’s heart, where it coiled and caressed like Tristol’s hair.
My heart is turning purple, Drey thought. And with one hand still smoothing through fat tubular silken strands, he used the other to press Tristol closer, to keep him.
Tris hadn’t actually thought it was possible. Not with a human, not like that. He’d had fun with his human lovers, and he’d climaxed once he learned how to ask for what he needed.
But Drey, so exactly right from his build to his textures to his big hand stroking through Tristol’s hair. Drey did not know, and could not see, that Tris lacked the advocacy strand. He saw only that it was alive and beautiful. Tris had called Drey somate in the throes of ecstasy. Embarrassing and he hoped Drey hadn’t heard – humans didn’t do that, after all. Not right away.
Still Tris had thought he would never get to say that in his life. He had thought, in choosing to leave his people, he had left all options for that kind of union behind him. No antiga for this loga. No mating and no mycota, just lovers and never somate.
Tristol would have been fine to live his whole live that way. Because he had reconciled himself to giving up love along with everything else, when he left Gal. But here was Drey. Drey who wanted to date him, and fuck him, and maybe if he was very good, keep him. Drey was keeping him now, close and firm in his arms. Arms still scratched from a cat he had rescued for Tris.
Drey was not rolling away.
Drey was not sending Tris home, as all the others had.
Well, they were in Tristol’s quarters so that would be difficult to do, but still: Drey was not leaving.
He was staying.
“Could it… Tris?” Drey’s voice when it came was wrecked and hesitant. “Could it be just us, please baby?” Drey sounded hopeful and weak at the same time.
This was obviously a difficult thing to ask in human culture. Tristol hadn’t known that. Or maybe Drey had asked before and stupid idiots who were not Tris had said no.
It was, however, an easy promise for a galoi to make. Especially one like Tris, who had only ever worn a single earring.
“Yes,” Tris said, and felt the big body under him relax. “Just us, Drey.” Somate. “You will date me and I will be so good and you will realize that we are matched.” And you will ask me to stay, or you will stay here with me. Where I will paint my walls with your colors and find pillows to complement your skin and your eyes and your hair. You will cook for us in this kitchen that has never been used, like a human husband does. And I will take such good care of you, you will never want to leave. And you will take such good care of me that I will forget this is not my home because you will become that for me.
That was all too much, he figured, for a human when they had only just fucked once. Too soon. But Tris had a goal now, and he believed it was a good one. Worth striving for. So long as this stupid galoi ship did not mess it all up for him. If Drey did not go among Tristol’s people and see something horrible by human standards. Tris was terrified of that. But also resigned. Because he may be separated from the galoi, but he was still galoi in his soul. Drey would have to know it all, eventually, if he were to truly stay and Tris could paint his walls and call him somate for real.
Tris sat up a little, amused by his own copious cum covering them both. It clung, glistening, to the hair on Drey’s hard stomach and around Drey’s now flaccid penis.
Drey was watching him watch them, brown eyes sleepy and heavy-lidded.
One big hand reached forward to touch the cord about Tristol’s neck, curious about the earring that dangled from it.
“It’s black,” explained Tris. “And there is only one. I wonder, with you, with us being us, if I am justified in wearing it again.” He smiled, heart fluttering at the idea. Perhaps they could find a stud for his left ear, some dark brown stone or metal, to represent Drey. Perhaps Drey would pierce it for him, as a true somate would, linking them together. He would mention it later. Much later. After Drey became accustomed to him. After he made himself indispensable and pretty and coordinated everything.
“I noticed that the isoga in the vid wore two earrings of different colors in one ear and two studs of the same in the other. But you don’t.”
“You noticed?”
“I notice everything about you. Instead, I find you have one around your neck and an empty hole in your ear. What’s it mean, baby?”
Tris thought Drey would need to know this for his future as a detective aboard a galoi ship, so he might as well prepare him.
“The rings indicated sexual orientation. Each ring represents a different gender. So an antiga can wear up to four earrings, every color except black. Because black would be another antiga and that is taboo. But he may have sex with both male and female isoga and loga. Loga may wear up to three, being given the option of antiga and both isoga.”
“But you have only one.” Drey fingered the black ring where it nestled against Tristol’s throat.
“I should not even wear it at all. To be zyga is to be without gender and that means no earrings and no sexual preference may be stated. Our slang term for both zyga and infants is naked ears.”
Drey frowned. “Galoi children have no gender?”
Tris nodded. “It was a strange thing for me to learn about your species.” And it had been – very strange. He still found it odd and was grateful he had no human friends with younglings, because this way he did not have to interface with them. “Galoi are born hermaphroditic, or that is the closest galactic standard word for it. Your species develops secondary sexual characteristics at puberty. My species develops all sexual characteristics at puberty.”
Drey looked amazed. “Wow. That’s kind of incredible.”
“After acquiring biological sex, completing the maturation process, and acclimatizing to a gender state, we are given sexual teachers, from the other acceptable genders. I had coitus with antiga, male isoga, and female isoga. Then I chose my earrings. In my case, just the one, antiga. I have only ever been attracted to the black ring.”
“So the man in the vid?”
Tris smiled – this was like teaching a youngling. “He wore a white ring and a black one. So his preferences are for male loga like me, and…” he let himself trail off. Drey was still playing with the black ring about Tristol’s neck.
“And antiga,” the detective finished for him, responding to the coaxing tone. “Tris, baby, are you missing something because I’m not antiga?”
Tris shook his head violently. “Absolutely not. You are perfect for me. The sexual organ that you lack is not one that I want.” Drey’s penis did not have an antiga’s barb at the head. A pleasurable feature, of course, designed to pulse and hook into the seal of Tristol’s womb. But as wonderful as it felt, Tris did not want to get pregnant. He never had. That was the whole problem. That was the cause of everything.
Drey nodded, not convinced. “Antiga have another organ?”
Tris shrugged. “Another part on the penis. It is a sperm sack that inflates at the tip, like a barb. It pulses to release sperm and is designed to facilitate pregnancy and cause loga climax. It is very nice-feeling, but considering what you just did to me, not at all necessary.”
He thought he should make this abundantly clear. Humans had fragile egos and Drey had not been lacking in any way. “No antiga has ever made me feel as you did.” Because with antiga there had always been fear of pregnancy, but with Drey he could be utterly relaxed and free.
Drey was smiling now. “That is why you like being pounded so hard?”
“Yesss,” trilled Tris, remembering how wonderful it felt. “And why I am so happy your penis is lovely and big. The length and fullness is good.” He shivered, becoming aroused again just thinking about it.
Drey rumbled in human amusement. His hand moved from the ring at Tristol’s neck to the ring at the base of his penis, which seemed to fascinate him. “You ready to go again so soon?”
