Fill for the kinkmeme for a prompt that I simply could not ignore. For the curious the prompt was simply this: "A Batarian in a Sundress".
This was what I cooked up. Enjoy.
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A batarian in a sundress.
Now that was something one just didn't see everyday, especially when one was on an Alliance colony such as Elysium. Even with the planet having a sizable alien population, batarians were still a rare sight.
But to Private Trevor Graham, the most surprising thing about the whole batarian-in-a-dress-on-a-human-colony thing was not the fact that there was a batarian in a dress and on a human colony, but the fact that the alien female actually looked quite nice.
The dress was a pretty little thing, with a short, billowing skirt that showed a good amount of leg, and a snug blouse that was distractingly low cut. The woman's skin was a dark, warm shade of brown and the dress, with its bright yellow color, only seemed to bring it out more.
All of these little factors came together to ensure that the alien woman was one of the more eye-catching individuals in the small club.
...Though that could also be attributed to the dress's generous neckline coupled with the woman's more-than-modest bust. There was also the fact that this batarian seemed to lack some of the more... noticeable facial features that plagued the males of her species.
She still had the four large and shiny, black eyes and that weird strip of nostrils in place of where a human's nose would be, but she lacked the cheek flaps that made the males look like chipmunks and had none of those grotesque forhead ridges.
Graham could not believe that he was thinking it, but she actually looked rather pretty, four eyes and all.
Of course, not everyone in the club agreed with that sentiment.
While humans, for the most part, tended to be accepting or at least tolerating of new things, there were still those handful on every settlement who just could not accept that there were people out there that were different than them.
There were a few people in the club, all of them humans, both at the bar and on the dance floor, throwing the alien woman looks, mostly those of surprise. There were also one or two of blatant disgust.
A pair of human women sneered at the batarian, most likely angered at the sight of an alien female attempting to dance with "their" human men.
It was almost humorous, actually, how most of their anger had previously been directed towards the few asari in the club, who were now all but ignored in favor of seething at the intruding "squint".
Graham held nothing but admiration for the batarian's grace, her ability to block out the odd looks, the sneers, the biting insults. She was going to dance and have a good time and God help anyone who would try to stop her.
It took a nudge from one of Graham's fellow Alliance marines, one Corporal Thom Reyes, for the young man to realize he had been, in fact, staring.
This was followed by a comment on Graham's supposed preference for "alien tail" and suddenly the Private found the bottom of his glass to be the most interesting thing in the galaxy, his face flushed a deep red as the rest of his comrades in arms laughed heartily at his expense.
It was all in good humor of course.
Graham had been blessed with a unit who were generally accepting of their youngest member's curiosity and interest in alien sexuality. In fact, it was Graham himself who had turned many of his fellow marines onto the magazine, Fornax. They mostly read it for the spreads of human and asari models, but it was something.
That did not mean that what his friends said -quite loudly, in fact- was any less embarrassing.
The rest of the team, Cross, Harper, Chekov, Reyes, Gakunga, they all cracked jokes and the like, still on their way to getting piss-drunk. Graham smiled sheepishly, one hand idly going to his scalp to scratch an itch that wasn't there.
Another glance at the alien woman on the dance floor greeted him with the sight of her swaying to the beat of the club music. She was very good, her body flowing like water, as if the whole dancing thing was just second nature to her.
But she was alone, the human-dominated dance floor seeming to shy away from her as if her skin was poisonous.
Graham felt a spike of shame for his species, embarrassed for both the four-eyed woman and the people who ran from her like toddlers from non-existent cooties.
It only took a moment for Graham to make up his mind.
Suddenly, the twenty year old human had his head tossed back, his glass raised, sending his drink down his gullet. He drank it all, relishing the burn of the alcohol and the pleasant buzzing sensation in his head that soon followed.
"Thirsty much?" Laughed Corporal Reyes.
"No," Graham rasped, his throat still sore, "Just needed some courage."
"Why?"
"Because I'm fixin' to do something real stupid right about now."
The younger man thrust his empty glass into Reyes's hands.
"Hold that for me."
Before he could stop himself, Graham forced his legs to move in the direction of the batarian girl. Ignoring the wolf whistles and the cat calls his squad was making behind him, he kept moving forward, brushing past one patron after another, his eyes set on his target.
This was either the best idea he ever had or the worst. At this point, the line between the two had gotten rather blurry. Graham had to chalk that up to the alcohol.
The four-eyed alien grew closer and closer with each step the human took until, finally, he was right next to her.
The batarian woman looked up, all four of her eyes widening in what seemed to be pleasant surprise.
Graham's heart was in overdrive, bouncing about the inside of his ribcage. There was no backing down from this, he quickly reminded himself. The girl's eyes were on him now, as were those of every other patron in the club. Graham could feel it, too, the entire club staring at the odd pair, at the Captain Kirk wannabe who dared to interact with the lowly "squint-bitch".
Time slowed to a halt and the human marine could feel his heart about to pull a chestburster and turn him into Kane 2.0.
He forced that feeling aside along with the nervousness, the anxiety, all the weak shit that would do him no good and flashed the best "charming" smile he could muster.
"Hey," he said. Very smooth.
To Graham's great relief, the woman smiled back, revealing a row of white, relatively normal-looking teeth.
It was noticeably not a mouthful of rusty nails that he had seen on the batarian men. Perhaps the batarians evolved from a species whose females did not require such viscous teeth of death, Graham thought to himself.
"Hello," she greeted in return, her voice warbly like all batarians, yet still distinctively feminine. It sounded nice, the human decided.
Graham simply smiled back and kept eye contact, masking the fact that he had basically frozen up. Unsure of what to say next, the strapping young lad began to dance, a simple movement of the arms and legs.
A full-on "Shepard-shuffle" would most likely scare the girl off.
This was apparently not the absolute worst thing to do as the result was the batarian woman's smile growing wider, clearly happy at this turn of events, and moving closer, dancing as well.
Gradually, Graham's anxiety faded away along with near everything else. The noise, the gaping crowd, all of it just tuned out, leaving Graham in his little bubble with a not-at-all-bad-looking alien woman with a low-cut blouse practically in his arms.
Everything only got better from there.
After a while, they stopped "dancing" -it had turned into blatant groping at some point- and went to the bar for drinks. Thankfully, the bartender was a pretty cool gal and not at all put off by the "sick" interspecies affair going on in her presence.
After a couple of strange asari concoctions, the pair was laughing at each others' jokes -jokes which made no sense- and flirting as lewd and shamelessly as one could be without being arrested for public indecency.
It was only then that they actually exchanged names.
"Trevor," he said, smiling dumbly.
"Kem," she replied. "I have a place close by. An apartment. Quiet. Private."
Had Graham been sober and with more blood in the head on his neck than in the one in his pants, he probably would have been caught off guard by the not-so-subtle proposal.
But he was not sober and his pants were almost painfully constricting.
In the span of a few minutes the odd pair were stumbling up the steps to Kem's third-story apartment.
The moment he passed through the doorway, Graham found himself pinned to a wall by a horny, four-eyed alien woman who was at least a head shorter than he. As he felt her heavy buxom press against his chest, he realized he couldn't bring himself to complain.
Kem kissed him hard, her lips ravenously attacking his own and her tongue brushing against his teeth, demanding entrance into his mouth. He complied instantly, allowing her to snake inside and massage his tongue with her own.
Graham suddenly felt dizzy, his knees turning into jelly for a brief moment.
She tasted good, he concluded.
Meanwhile, Kem's hands seemed to have a mind of their own, one sneaking under his shirt to shamelessly grope it's prize, the other busy trying to tear through his belt.
He was delirious. Her kisses, her moans, her tongue, the feel of her supple breasts on his chest, ready to spill out of her dress, it all made Graham's head spin.
As he began his oral assault on her neck, he realized her scent was... intoxicating.
Kem pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside into a corner, where it would be forgotten for the rest of the night. She stared at his naked chest then turned her eyes further down, a look of appreciation mixed with hunger etched on her face.
"Very nice," Kem mused, placing a hand flush to the human's chest. "No matter how hard a batarian body builder tries, they can never get like this."
Graham felt his cheeks heat up slightly as the batarian before him fucked him with her eyes. He managed to put on a cocky smile anyway.
"The Alliance trains their people well," He spoke.
The response from Kem was a short laugh, almost giddy enough to be a giggle.
"That they do, human, that they do."
"So I'm just 'human' now?" Graham asked, one eye raised playfully.
He didn't get an answer at first, Kem remaining silent as she turned her attention from Graham's chest and abs to his arm. She reached and gave the muscle a light squeeze, humming in appreciation.
"You have thicker arms than us. Batarians, I mean. It may not seem like it, but it's true. I hear some of the other races call humans small, weak. They must be blind because I don't see either of those traits before me."
Kem nuzzled into Graham's neck, pressing herself into him, one of her legs spreading his and brushing against the very noticeable bulge in his pants. Graham's breath hitched at that, the human very close to being sent over the edge.
"You humans fascinate me," Kem continued. "People see you as selfish, impulsive, bullies. I see a people who take risks. I see ambition. If a human has the possibility to get more, he takes more."
"It works for us," Graham replied absently, much more interested in the petite hand that had slipped down the front of his pants.
She quickly found what she sought so eagerly, wrapping her fingers around him, making Graham take a sharp breath. A couple of strokes from her soft hand and the human marine was standing at attention, hard as steel, soft as velvet, hot as fire, and throbbing with growing desire.
Then she pulled away and he felt cold, Graham making a grunt of protest at the loss of her warmth.
She backed away from him slowly, mischief in her eyes, something Graham barely caught under a cloak of lust.
Kem turned towards her bedroom, crossing her apartment in a couple strides. Outside her bedroom door, she stopped, casting the panting, half-naked human a heated look.
"You want more?"
Kem shrugged and her flowing, yellow sundress fell from her shoulders, pooling around her ankles.
Graham gulped.
She was beauty, flawless skin gracing every inch of her voluptuous body that any human woman would kill for. She wore nothing but a pair of panties, a white, frilly thing that barely covered a plump, rounded rear.
"Then take more..."
Without another word, she strutted forward, her hips shaking hypnotically as she disappeared inside her room.
Graham found that he could do nothing but follow like an obedient marine.
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While the next morning had greeted Graham with a mild hangover, he was thankful that he could still recall what happened the previous night. Those few hours were ones he was prefer to keep in his memory for those lonelier nights on Alliance star ships.
And judging from the way Kem's sleeping form was smiling, her body draped across his, head resting on his chest, she held a similar opinion.
Kem was a feisty little minx, as Graham quickly discovered, the lithe batarian woman pouncing upon him the moment he entered her bedroom. The scratch marks that he adorned on his back, chest and arms were proof of that.
When he had slipped himself inside her -after she had spent a few moments marveling at his shape and size, something that greatly petted his ego- he could tell immediately that the woman writhing beneath him was not human.
That is, if the four eyes was not already a dead give-away.
When he struck deep with each thrust, she moaned like a human. She was hot and wet like a human. But the muscles that gripped him so tightly were clearly not human.
It was all different, the way her inner walls stroked him, consumed him, gripped him like a vise, not at all like the way a human woman would.
It was not better than when he was with a human.
But it was no worse, either.
It was like discovering a new flavor, one that was completely different but, at the same time, equally satisfying.
He could remember it all, the way Kem moved her hips, the way she moaned filthy things into his ear as she writhed beneath him, the way her body felt in his hands, full breasts that fit perfectly into his hands and mouth.
The way she bent over, face pressed into the mattress with her ass raised in the air, giving herself to him, the way she gave off wondrous sounds as he thrust into her warm depths with all the strength he could muster.
His head between her legs, lapping up her liquid heat as if it were a delicacy, his rough hands on her hips to hold her steady as her entire body rocked under his tongue's ministrations.
Her mouth engulfing him, an agile tongue working wonders on a throbbing member. Her head bobbed up and down in his lap, milking him for a reward. She took him deep, an act that would no doubt leave her throat soar. Not that either was complaining at the time.
They drove each other to and over the edge, him twice, her three times, and in the end, they drifted to Morpheus together.
Graham smiled as he felt Elysium's sun shine through the window of Kem's bedroom, basking in it's warmth.
Not quite a Captian Kirk wannabe anymore, he thought.
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