All respective rights to the owners – I am not profiting from this work of fiction or own any of the characters save for the original ones created. – Yours Hopefully

Survival

The queen kainde amedha was smote on the ice of the tundra. A Yautja blooded was the victor of the match, and he had the luck of championing the hunt alongside an unexpected partner – an ooman female. He and his brothers had not expected the group to be poking around the trial grounds meant for their rite – but it had been a challenge none the less.

The oomans had fallen one by one until this female had grown more backbone than he thought capable out of the race of soft meats. She'd submitted his rightful weapon back to him and sworn some sort of honor oath to him, from what Scar had gathered. Then proven her iron will by giving her comrade an honorable death in the face of his defeat by the hardmeats and their young. Beyond that, she had fought off and killed her own hardmeats with the most basic of weaponry he'd fashioned for her. More than his fallen brothers could even say.

She was something to respect, he had learned. Especially in the critical moments of the fight when it could've been his lifeblood spilling out onto the ice. Sloppiness meant death, and her cunning lure of the angry queen had given him the opportunity to take his prey behind the great crested head and sever it in one gushing blow, acid raining down to bore into the ice and singe his armor.

He had crawled away with a few burns and gashes, but nothing life threatening. Scar gloried in his new marks, flexing them for the female as she sputtered and gasped and heaved on the ice. She was shocked – understandably. He was still somber and mournful of the brothers he had lost in the hunt, but he would see that their remains were brought to the home world and properly honored for their final journey. Through his victory they lived on, and songs would be sung in their honor.

Scar was just about to bring the female to her feet when the ice began to splinter underneath his padded feet – and before they could both react it fell away. A tactical part of his mind said the boring acid sinking the remains of the queen hard meat was to blame for this cave in a few hundred yards away from her growing pit. But he caught onto the ooman before she could fall without him and buried a wrist blade into the wall to catch them both.

The female weighed next to nothing. He flung her to a rocky outcropping and she caught on with freakishly easy grace that even gave Scar pause to trill and admire. He leaped after her, expecting to crouch and help her up. But instead she had scaled up the remainder of the outcropping to scoot up and stand in the pool of melted ice freezing them both from the waist up. It was a shallow depression, but Scar sighted a higher up recess of rock from the pool that would serve for good shelter until he could flag down the cruiser from orbit.

It was unexpected that this female was such a good climber. But Scar estimated that this wasn't your average ooman. He watched her shake off water from the thick length of dark hair snaking down her back, and she let out what he translated as an ooman expletive.

Her name was shouted by that one male she eliminated out of mercy. The male who did not bear any trace of mating musk from her. Presumably not her mate. He couldn't smell a trace on one on the female in his proximity, come to think of it. Monosyllabic in their language, he trilled the name off a few times in his own translation of the ooman tongue. It made the female look up.

Most elders, his father included, would tell of the soft meats and their frail appearance. But even his father would trail off in the description of some females honorable enough in the combative sense. Some ooman females had a wild streak in them that rivaled a female Yautja – a wild streak that hid deadly intent under a very deceptive guise.

Skin not pebbled with scaly, dry flesh like his race – it fascinated him. Smooth and brown like tanned leather and flawless save for the mark of the clan she bore on one crested cheekbone. Her eyes were a darker color to her exotic looks – thick with browns and hints of proud gold.

Even her mouth inspired in him such puzzlement, and now he knew why it was one of the most confusing traits his kind found on the soft meats. Fleshy, without any flexing mandibles to flare out in a threat display or croon-click to a female in heat. Lips they were called, and this ooman was in possession of a sculpted, pretty pair that pursed and moved in ways that were purely distracting to the hunter – mesmerizing.

An unblooded he was not. Not any longer. Now, he was an elite hunter with his own queen's skull to mount on the walls with the rest of his conquests. But the little ooman was owed her own honor and kills – being able and vicious in her combat against the clever hard meats. For this he respected her and desired her for. But meaning was hard to convey when he only had blunt body language and emotive trills and clicks to share with her blunt tongue.

The female jabbered in her own language, anger saturating the tone and lighting up her face. That message was conveyed very well to Scar – frustration. He was feeling it too. Frustration towards her obnoxiously exotic scent and the urge to mount her. But it seemed this female was keener on getting out of the submerged cave.

He'd been denied this for all his time alive – willing female flesh. Too lowly in honor to attract a mate during her heat, with little in the way of trophies and conquests to claim. Now he was rooted up with some female ooman reeking of a ripe breeding age and flushed with angry heat. It gave off her scent strongly, even through the manifold layers of protective clothing bulking her frame.

Lex was beyond words when the outlandishly oversized predator began to hack and slash at her soaked clothes. But even a part of her brain knew the intent behind it – survival. Something she was all too familiar with after her years of experience in the more extreme climes of this planet.

Soon she was down to her simple black underthings in the pool of freezing water – sports bra and panties. Even her thermal under-armor got snipped off with the delicate work of his wrist blade.

Scar, as she had dubbed him in her internal monologue, had hauled her off without much of a struggle on her part. She was cold – every inch of her fleshed out with goose pimples and a lack of feeling around her mouth. If she had a mirror on hand, she was sure the flesh around her mouth would be a very pasty blue at this point. The predator was examining a divot in the ice wall before flinging up a spiked device from his belt. A little thing resembling some of the earlier throwing stars hurtled around the pyramid started clipping into the ice wall to the rim. All the while a little red light lit up the device – a tracer? Scar turned on her, dipping his head at her frantic point upwards. Help was on the way, but obviously he wasn't concerned about a hasty retreat. In fact, he seemed to want to burrow in for a while.

She could have climbed out of this crag in her sleep – but she doubted he'd let her go out into the wind-chill in her state. The male seemed to have a vested interest in keeping her alive now. For what reason? Lex couldn't fathom.

The predator had her by the waist before Lex could blink, hauling her shaking form over his shoulder as he hiked them up the ice with his spiked footgear spearing the wall. It was a cozy niche, all compact and well out of the chill. He set her down and started tending to a few necessities – piecing out gear and withdrawing a few devices that flared out with a click and beep from his wrist device. Soon his massive output of body heat started to leech into her freezing form just by proximity.

He had a kit out in little time, a metal plate fanning out and starting up a small but powerful flame in a white hot glow that hurt to look at directly. He toned it down at her flinch, the burn cooling to a light flicker that still brought heat back into her body. Pieces of his armor and weapons began to come off, stacking into a militarily precise pile for easy access. This hunter definitely expected the 'if' in life, Lex surmised.

He was down to the basic stretch of netting and coverings by the time she looked back over, his form folding to lean back onto the wall as he sat. His mask leaned on the pile, the scored mark still fresh and glinting in the fire light – a mirror to the one that tingled on her cheek and graced the broad sweep of her savior's forehead.

Then came the hard part. He tried to lure her over with a docile croon. More like a rumbling purr to her ear, like an overgrown jungle cat.

Lex hunched over on the opposite end of the recess – away from him and the saving heat of the fire. It wasn't fear that cowed her. Simply the obstinate desire to get by on her own without his help. But the rebellion wilted inside of her when he seemed to grow tired of her stubbornness. In one powerful flex of his arm, his hand had snuck out and snatched her back to lay over the massive expanse of his chest.

She squirmed onto a very thick-set pair of hips still shrouded in metal wiring and a codpiece. A warning growl froze her, and she simply shot him a peeved look that clearly stated her lack of care for his threats. Then she heard it – a rumbling chuckle that trilled out of his flexing mandibles and a tensing of the muscles in the rigid expanse of his abdominals. He was laughing at her!

Nearly clocking herself out on the low ceiling of the recess, she rose up against him with an irate hiss.

"You think this is funny, don't you?" she snarled into his face. All amusement was wiped off of him at that point, and Lex saw the muscles bulge through the netting of his armor as he took an inhale.

Again, he rumbled out her name in the trill. "Le-eeh-ex," he rasped out, tongue flicking against the fanged teeth of his maw. Strangely, the woman wasn't disgusted or repulsed by this animalistic humanoid. Rather, she felt a pull in her body and a surge of heat that went straight to her toes.

Her mouth parted and nostrils flared in an effort to take in more of the musk coming off of him in waves – pheromones? A distant part of her brain was piecing apart the situation like it always did in times of pressure. But now, she locked it neatly away and worked the straps of her bra down until the rounded, swollen tips perked into hard nubs in the cool air between them, brushing the rough skin peeking through the corded metal of the netting across his chest.

Rumblings from Scar deepened into a more visceral purr, the vibrations leaking into her body as she pressed close to his heat. Little metallic twangs filled the recess as parts of the netting started to unravel at a few button prods on his belt and wrists. Soon it was a neat snare in the corner, and his body was surging against hers in a show of unchallenged dominance. Lex was dwarfed by his size – utterly small and insignificant compared to this apparent pinnacle of his species. He topped out over seven feet by her estimate, and was bulging and thick with muscle in every bit. Not an ounce of leanness to his build.

He seemed to know this – enjoying her eyes playing over every inch of his body with an appreciative trill before she started to scuttle back on her hands, trying to lurch away in a moment of apprehension. All it earned Lex was a hard, snapping blow to her buttocks with his clawed hand that dragged her back to press flush with his hard body. Not enough to bruise, but enough to get the point across to her that there was to be none of that. Instead, she put her trust in the male like she had done for the last twelve hours and submitted to him with a slight arch in her neck and a bow of her head.

Scar's eyes became narrow slits as he saw those silky bits of hair fall over her shoulders to hide the view he'd been enjoying.

Yaujta females were on average larger than males. It was a complete switch to have such a tiny female balanced in his lap and leaning her neck in that gesture of submission – a switch that set his blood to boil with heat. Even the typically pebbled skin and roughened tips of the Yautja breasts that had given him suck as a babe were absent in the ooman female. Instead it was supple and giving beneath his hands, and he heard Lex take in a shuddering breath when one talon flicked delicately at a dark, crinkled nipple.

He leaned down, his mandibles flaring to lock over the little globe of flesh to rub and circle the round of the areola until it was wet with spit and swollen. Mindful of piercing the flesh with his teeth, he gently clamped over it to give it a long suck, drawing delicately at it with his tongue. The female was thrashing under his hands, a spike in her scent flooding his senses before he felt the wet gush of heat soaking the cloth covering her sex.

Scar let out another rumble with the mouthful of flesh between his teeth before he pulled his mandibles off of the breast with a delicate yank, taking the other into them with a flicking, rippling motion that rubbed and handled the mound as he gave her suck. Overall, he could see what the blooded males who got the chance to mate were all raving about – but he doubted they'd ever had the pleasure of mounting something this soft, this sweet scented and tasteful. This giving.

A bold move in baring herself to him was a clearly receptive gesture, so he reciprocated the gesture with a solid click to the girdle of metal encircling his waist. His armor fell away with a clatter on the stone, and he shredded through the breechcloth beneath that to fist the thickness rising stalk-like and hard against his stomach. A thick, copious drizzle of fluid was gushing from the slit already, and from what he'd learned from the terminal files on human physiology, mating was completely compatible between their two species. Though how far it went had never been broached in the research he'd found.

Shock and surprise registered across the ooman's face. He let out a rumble. She was impressed by what she saw. Enough to bow her head and slink onto his straining thighs for an inhale, a puff of breath teasing the head of his organ before she had that pink, blunt tongue lapping over the slit to taste him. Scar let out a roar, bunching a clawed fist in the soft mass of the ooman's hair as her fascinating mouth wrapped around the girth of him. Her head slunk down, eyes dimmed over with what he recognized was breeding heat. She was as wrapped up in the instinct as he was.

He pushed away that surprise with a pained grunt, trying to keep himself from spilling like an unblooded youth pleasured for the first time – but it was hard. Only furtive gropes from his own hands had shoved him into climax in all his lifecycles – he was too proud to stoop down to the level of some dishonorable males who would fuck the eta.

Even his casual skimming on female biology concerning the ooman didn't prepare him for this kind of slick, soft heat wrapped around his cock. It swamped his brain like a drug, slowing his reflexes and lulling him into a calm sort of rhythm. His hand tightened on the hair fisted in it, and he guided her mouth with gentle, insistent tugs to bob up and down. Scar purred at the sight of every inch of the vein laden length slick with the ooman's saliva disappear between those swollen lips. But soon the rutting pulled at him again, and he was hungry for more.

Lex wasn't quite sure what had driven her to this – but the sticky, cloying liquid soaking her tongue and trickling down her throat in a steady stream was addictive in taste. Compared to humans, his species obviously made males and their physiology as appealing as possible – the semen's texture slick and filling, and tinged sweeter with what she suspected were excess nutrients.

She was messy, even with the constant swallowing sucks. Eventually it smeared her mouth and trickled down her jaw in a stream of white, and she had to pull her mouth off with a wet pop. Scar, to her shock, made a quiet trill that passed for a whine to her ears.

"I…don't think your females can do that, can they?" she murmured into the cold air with an expressive point to her mouth. He shook his great head in a 'no', the ornaments in his dreadlocks clicking together. Lex reached to take one long tendril between her fingers for a feel. To her surprise, the thing was hot with blood and very flesh like in her fingers.

Rubbing it elicited another purr and a tilt of his head, and Lex almost chuckled at the expression on the predator's face as she tangled her fingers in the dreads for a solid rub. Her eyes dipped down to the thickness prodding at her belly, and a fresh wave of fear had her quivering. It was too big – solidly built and traced with pulsing veins and ridges of flesh, glans peeking out from the cut head in a greenish tinged flesh pebbled with the strange texture like the rest of his skin.

A tightening in her warned her that her body didn't quite give a fuck if it didn't fit. She just wanted it in her.

Her hand latched onto the root of him, fondling the drawn skin of his sac before righting it to rub over the wet cotton separating him from every soaking inch of her. He didn't have time to take control before she was hooking the crotch of her panties aside to bare the swollen lips of her slit, balancing herself with a hand on his shoulder and her knees dug into the stone as she took the head of his rigid member into her.

By the start of it, she had both tiny hands locked around his throat and her eyes squeezed tightly shut against the feel of him spearing her flesh and splitting her open, his size filling her to the point of discomfort before she was fully seated on every inch of the fleshy length.

Panting and squirming, she couldn't seem to sit still and get a grip. Sex happened in her life with little frequency, but she wasn't unfamiliar with it. But this feeling – this burning, insistent need in her body to fuck and be filled. It was driving her to frenzy.

Scar fought for a scrap of control as the little ooman impaled herself on him, the bald lips of her sex kissing the hairless flesh of his sac and groin. Lex seemed as shocked as he was that her body managed to swallow him in one hungry, sucking lunge. She gave her hips a little rock, and was rewarded with a growl from the male beneath her. He surged, locking his hands on the flesh of her buttocks until his talons dug in to draw blood. Lex enjoyed the pain, fisting her hands into his dreads to give them a solid yank. That had the warrior roaring, his hips rising to slam into her frailer ones in a heavy blow. Lex had to bite back on a scream as he drove into her, the head of his cock nudging her cervix as she felt him thrust back in a broken, tilted motion of his hips.

Soon a rhythm was set – something hard and primal that made his loins burn. He twisted her on his cock to face her away, bending her at the waist with a roar and rearing up onto his haunches. Fisting her shoulders, he brought her body back in long lunges onto his length and scrapped her bare knees bloody on the rock as he mounted her from behind. The shapely feel of her taut buttocks pressing into him was another soft attribute that he couldn't compare to the feel of a Yautja female. Scar was beginning to fear he'd found a vice that he wouldn't easily quit or be able to substitute.

From her sobbing inhales and throaty screams, coupled with the fluxing scent of the climaxes she rode through in the hour of their mating, she wasn't dissatisfied. Another vice. Yautja females didn't freeze up and lock around a cock like a hungry, greedy mouth that sucked and pulled in rippling waves. Scar discovered the little bundle of nerves cloaked under her strange undergarments, peeking out of the hood of flesh and pearly pink enough to make his mouth slaver once he got a good look at the spot where they were joined. Lex came apart at those prodding touches, eventually coming undone in a loud, shrieking moan as he pinched it in the rough pads of his fingers.

Scar hunched over her, fisting a fleshy hip in one clawed hand before locking his jaw over the straining length of her neck in a tearing bite, ripping his mark into her soft skin on the nape. She didn't even seem to feel it in her haze of mating heat.

The male couldn't have ended a hunt better. His thoughts were swamped over with the new honors won this night – the skull of the queen, the honor of his clan, and the writhing, worthy female bucking beneath him and screaming herself hoarse on his cock.

He froze up at the tightening feel drawing his sac up, eventually the thick crawl of his seed spilling from his slit to gush into the female. He sent up a silent prayer – damning tradition. He wanted her brimming with seed until she bulged from it. More spilled into her until it leaked out from the point of their joining onto their bodies. Scar let out a rasping purr into her ear, cutting his tongue on a fang to smear the phosphorescent trail of blood onto the gaping wound laying her skin open on her slim neck. Soon it was healing over, and he took stock of the trembling female still mindlessly thrusting herself back onto him.

Yes. He could get used to this.

Lex came to a few minutes after her last wracking climax that had shattered her brain into little shards – took some time collecting them back into some working cohesion to process what her body was doing now. She was still impaled – more of the scorching seed dribbling down her thighs to steam in the freezing air. They were both steaming in the freezing air – heat rising off of their bodies as sweat collected in every divot of muscle and slid down their straining limbs. Her body clenched around him, and Scar gave her an answering roll of his hips as more of him spilled out of his pulsing cock.

"How much do you even have in you?" Lex hissed, scrambling and scouring the bedrock of stone with her broken nails. Scar just trilled in response, rocking back on his haunches and bringing her to sit sprawled out in his lap – his organ still held tight in her body. She wasn't complaining. The heat alone was enough to give her pause, like a warm, slick column of heat spearing her while the rest of his massive body shrouded her as he tugged up his legs and arms to enfold the woman.

She felt him give her neck a few long licks, seeming to savor the scent and taste of the blood drawn. Lex, despite the gravity of the situation finally setting in on her – she did in fact just fuck an alien life form – gave her own imitation of his purr. That brought a pleased trill from him. Maybe she could take a stab at the language.

Soon enough, she was twisting around his cock to face him again in his lap, hiking one lean thigh over his bent elbow to face him. She tried to repulse herself with his strange features – the clicking probes of his mandibles and the ghoulish length of pearly white fangs hidden behind the flexing flaps of bone and skin. Or the broad rise of his head crest and the ridges of soft spikes lain along the pebbled, reptilian skin. But it was the eyes that drew her in. They were pooled gold that slipped and shimmered in the heat of the flame – recessed into his skull and staring at her with a measured, calm estimation. He knew her well already, and he expressed it through his looks and touches.

Lex leaned in to lock her eyes with Scar's. For a moment, she forgot about escaping from this frozen hell and returning to the Piper Maru. Of going back to civilization, licking her wounds, and then throwing herself back into the wilds to lead more rich parties up another rocky climb or insurmountable obstacle. Of returning to the feeling of isolation with her own race that did not quite understand her. Forgetting about all that had transpired here on this island.

For now, she reveled in the victory of survival. And the awe of the creature that had given her the gift of survival and ignited in her a sense of kinship.

Translations

Kainde amedha – hard meat (xenomorphs)

Eta – lowest caste in Yautja society; typically the crippled or cowardly who serve as slaves