Title: This Fine Scent
Author: dreamerchaos
Pairing: OPCxWikus. ChristopherxWikus.
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Language. Slash between an alien and a human(Or who was human…).
Summary: Within a year, District 10 is no better than District 9. A cesspool of trash and moldering shacks. Regardless of his new prawn body, Wikus still manages to find himself in deep trouble.
Author's note: Hmm..Apparently I can write District 9 slash, but my first real MATURE piece doesn't have Christopher as the main pairing. What's up with that?
Wikus knows that he is in deep shit when the prawns start acting out of sorts.
The smaller prawn's first clue is when the larger ones begin to behave irregularly. They dart around Wikus, caging him within a group of three or four prawns, the group acting as if he has had a pallet worth of fresh cat food dumped upon him.
Wikus hisses impatiently while trying to duck underneath their pushy, daring hands sliding upon his shoulders and hips, but the brazen gesture of temper directed towards the larger prawns only incites their amusement.
Wikus fakes to the left, but he dives between a narrow sliver of space between a mottled yellow and dark red prawn, and he races for the safety of his leaning shack, stubbornly ignoring the chitters and teasing clicking of the other prawns when he slams the door shut in their faces.
Several days later, Wikus is aghast that it has taken him this long to determine the cause of the prawns' behavior.
Whenever he strides pass a single or group of prawns, several would sharply raise their heads, scenting the air, their antennas quivering while they whipped around in Wikus' direction.
When a larger prawn knocks aside a smaller one, and then begins to purr while he slides up against Wikus' back while wrapping large taloned hands around the stunned Wikus' waist, the gesture only confirms his worst fears.
'Pheromones. As if life wasn't hard enough, it had to be pheromones.' Wikus curls in shame, hunkered down within the tight corner of his cluttered shack while sliding the moth-chewed blanket over his head, the soft material bending his antennas to curl over his eyes.
His efforts are futile, his thin tent unable to disguise the clatter of a large prawn upon the metal roof of his shack, the prawn clicking and pawing at the walls of Wikus' den, begging to be allowed inside, rubbing their armored exoskeletons along the shoddy barrier of the smaller prawn's home, marking the tiny nest with their scent glands, the heady aroma of cinnamon and cloves dragging a involuntary wanton shudder from the smaller prawn.
Wikus tries to distract himself while fiddling with a broken cell phone and an old gameboy unit, but after a couple times nearly dropping the illegal electronic gadgets, he finally discards them with a regretful sigh, his hands too shaky and his attention averted by the frequent interruptions of the shadows flitting past his window and the practiced scratches of the prawns against his door.
Several days pass, and Wikus isn't faring much better. His armor feels too tight, and he is constantly restless, the lack of sleep making him more irritable and less welcoming of the company from his prospective suitors.
Rationally he knows it is the changes in his body that affect him so. He catches himself paying more attention to certain prawns, their color or posture drawing his gaze. He manages to disguise the thrum of heat and pulsing throb between his legs, deep underneath his plating, when specific prawns draw near.
He has littler success in masking the low hum that trickles from deep within his throat, the smaller prawn's purr unsettling him as he responds to the proximity of a much larger black prawn, the other's body adorned with flashes of orange peeking between the overlapping obsidian plates.
The abstractly painted prawn purrs in answer, and for the first time, Wikus does not discourage him from brushing closer, the smaller prawn accepting Victor's proximity as Wikus continues to paw and sift through the piles of black garbage bags and trash heaps.
Wikus' large, deep blue eyes blink in wonder as his suitor jauntily drags an entire lamb across the dusty yard, and lays the meal down at Wikus' door. The smaller prawn sitting outside his shack, playing with strands of metal wire, contemplating a complicated design for a handsome art project he whimsically plans to complete during the next week.
"What?" He asks, carefully placing his work pieces onto a cardboard pallet, meeting the proud prawn's gaze.
The larger prawn rattles, proudly nudging his prize, urging Wikus to come closer.
"Meat," The large prawn growls, piercing the soft pink flesh of the carved lamb, showing off the huge bounty of meat he has managed to swipe from the back of a butcher's truck when the driver stood outside his vehicle, distracted by a gaggle of young Nigerian prostitutes.
"…Impressive." Wikus truly is, having not seen such a fine piece of fresh cut meat in a long while outside the butchered slices from the men who set up shop within the perimeter of the District, daily haggling and selling their wares to the starved prawns.
His honest praise stirs Victor like nothing else. The larger one practically vibrates with excitement.
"…" Wikus is also stirred by the hunched creature. He stands, carefully rolling up his equipment, extending a hand to the other prawn and the offered meal.
"Come inside." He backs into his shack, and he isn't surprised when the prawn eagerly scoops up the lamb and follows Wikus into the privacy of the shack.
Wikus feels gorged, too much meat in such a short time leaving his well sated. He sighs in content, nestled into the depths of his nest, a full belly making him ready for a long nap as the other prawn drags the meager bones and straggling strands of meat outside the shack, dumping the remains of the carcass far away from the den, leaving it for the scavengers to pick at.
A couple of minutes later Wikus' antennas jump as he catches the rustle of newspaper around the rolling shoulders and jutting waist of Victor, his companion testing the water by sliding into the nest with Wikus.
Wikus shifts to make room as the larger prawn curls cautiously against his back, and weaves long arms around the smaller prawn's waist.
Wikus hums in response to the warmth and weight against him, sliding his arms over Victor's tight embrace. Settling in to rest as his suitor growls a long clattered series of purrs, winding around his smaller partner unwillingly to release him through the remainder of the night.
The atmosphere changes during the latter part of the week. Wikus accepts the larger prawn into his shack with a few words of greeting.
He can practically taste the tension, but he is far from bothered by it.
Instead, a hum of excitement curls deep within his stomach, and he doesn't refuse but merely complies as his unusually quiet friend guides him into the nest. Wikus willingly sliding onto his stomach, following the larger prawn's silent commands as large hands flip him over.
Wikus whines as the Victor's hips jerk against his posterior. The smaller prawn not familiar whatsoever with prawn mating, neither the rituals nor the parts required for copulation.
Seeming to sense Wikus tremble of confusion, Victor whispers a litany of soothing words while pressing his hands down upon the back of Wikus' shoulders, urging Wikus to lay his head upon his folded arms. The larger prawn's smaller binary hands curl around Wikus' hips, guiding the smaller prawn to bend and reposition.
Wikus would flush with mortification if his dermal armor allowed, a small part of him horrified by how he wantonly spreads his legs for the other extraterrestrial, whimpering and rutting at the air like one of old Mbube's whores.
"Calm.." Victor hushes, and guides Wikus to try to relax. The larger prawn's hands betraying him, the noticeable judders mark his excitement.
Wikus gulps air into his gills when Victor rocks against him, hunched over the smaller prawn, his weight and hands pinning Wikus.
The smaller prawn keens as the throbbing in between his legs reaches a crescendo. Wikus clacking in shock as a wash of wet heat trickles down his thighs. For the first time the smaller, young prawn experiencing his cloaca responding to a prospective mate. The 'female' opening trembles, slowly lubricating as Victor glides and shudders against him, the larger prawn's smaller pair of arms scratching impatiently and pawing along his lumbar region, posterior and thighs.
Victor growls against the back of his neck, riding Wikus as the smaller prawn unconsciously balks underneath him as the larger prawn's shaft extends from the tight seams concealing the 'male' reproductive organs. The long dark shaft curls partially and instinctively nudges and seeks out the smaller prawn. Victor helps to guide its path by thrusting against Wikus again, and this time the head of his staff just manages to pierce Wikus.
Wikus moans stiffly, clenching at the tight stab of discomfort, the virgin walls wilting alongside the intruder. Miniscule curved barbs lightly scratch against his insides, not damaging the tough inner flesh, but the additional friction tease a flush of heat and writhing of his hips as Wikus jolts and whimpers underneath his partner.
Wikus' whimpered cries mingle with Victor's crescendo snarls, the larger prawn stubbornly hanging on to his shivering, quaking partner until he slides completely inside Wikus. Stirring another sharp cry, Wikus buries his face into his arms, an unintelligible babble of pleas and curses from from his mouth.
Victor hisses at the splendor of the tight, wet vise surrounding him. He curls over Wikus, tentacles twist and lap along the patches of thin plates of the smaller prawn's nape.
Wikus hitches his breath when Victor's hands clench, forewarning his intentions to continue having allowed the smaller prawn the time to grow accustomed to his weight and girth.
Victor's binary hands clench tight upon his hips, shadowing the thrust and pull of his main arms as the larger prawn begins the slow dance of pushing and rocking Wikus, bumping his pelvis against the smaller set.
Wikus jerks and keens sharply with every thrust, meeting Victor whenever the larger prawn's weight shifts enough to allow his smaller partner to move and respond.
In response, Victor begins to move, using short, sharp stabs of his hips, the tempo invasion of thrust and short huffs of air mimicked by Wikus, the smaller prawn crooking his claws into the hard packed dirt floor of his shack to try and steady his jerking body as Victor's movements grow more wild and less controlled.
The smallest of the pair begins to fall under the spell as well. Wikus jibbers with surprise and awe as the steady rise of heat washes up his torso and limbs, tiny spikes of pleasure tickling up his exoskeleton while Wikus chants a litany of "Oh god oh god-"
Victor won't last much longer. Wikus can only stand the pleasure and torment for a few seconds more.
He is the first to let out a broken howl, screwing his face into his forearms as the climax explodes, causing him to spasm entirely as if he has clutched onto a live power cable.
Victor roars above him, and yanks Wikus off the ground, jerking the smaller startled prawn up against his chest, hips continuing to snap against Wikus' back, Wikus moaning around the pulsing shaft. The warm flood of viscous oily fluid drips down Wikus' thighs, marking Victor's release, the sticky black paint stains and mars his armor.
Wikus grunts as Victor collapses post-copulation, pinning the smaller prawn underneath him.
Wikus whimpered, trapped and still pierced by Victor's shaft. And from the rigid tension of the larger prawn's length, Wikus surmises that they are far from over, judging by the low continuing growls and the possessive track of Victor's hands up and down his waist and chest.
"Cocky bastard," Wikus growls were met by a shaky laugh, Victor arching against the smaller prawn, shutting Wikus up a few minutes later as Victor lavishly begins their second round, not planning to allow the smaller prawn any rest for the remainder of the day or night.
"I see…" Christopher is wrapped around him, hands intertwined above Wikus' stomach, using his feelers to caress and trace the slight roundness of the smaller prawn's waist, Christopher purring as the egg within continues to lie safely inside, "You kept yourself occupied until I returned." He notes, speaking softly to his mate while listening to the steady hiss and clicks from Oliver's nest in the other room, the older prawn still too hardwired to worry about his young offspring, even after the first time they had returned home, and continuing afterwards they travelled home a second time with Wikus and the other refugees.
Wikus barks with a small burst of laughter, and calmly punches Christopher's shoulder, earning a startled chuff from the largest of the pair, "Victor and I shared one day together. A very good day. We both agreed to simply remain friends after that." He leans around to glare over his shoulder, "I wouldn't be here nursing your pride as a proud father if I were carrying another's offspring."
"No, no." Christopher is quick to apologize for any slight that he may have managed, not wanting to stir Wikus' temper, the smaller prawn highly sensitive, especially in the latter stages of carrying, "I did not mean to be insulting. Rather I am embarrassed…Victor is far more handsome, if I were forced to admit."
Wikus wriggles until Christopher allows him to shuffle around, the smaller prawn curling his claws underneath the larger one's chin, while he peers up at Christopher's face solemnly.
"You…you were jealous?" When Christopher directs his eyes away from his nest mate, Wikus grins, leaning up and affectionately tapping his tentacles against Christopher's cheek, "Have you already forgotten the spectacle I made when you stepped off the drop ship after you returned to Earth after those three long years?"
"Hmmm.." Christopher nuzzles Wikus, playfully chasing the smaller prawn's cheek when Wikus whines that it tickles, "I do recall being pounced and knocked to the ground when you exuberantly ran to meet me."
"Not my problem that you are utter crap at taking a proper fall."
"Says the one who turned out to be violently sick during space travel," Christopher counters expertly.
"Hey!" Wikus jerks back with a whine, glaring, and "You could have warned me that the mother ship could jump through lightyears of space at the touch of a button."
"You're never going to let that go, are you?"
"…maybe if you let me pick our son's name, I just might."
"Absolutely not," Wikus sulks, but Christopher knows he must remain firm and not bend to the smaller prawn's whim, "I do not think that Wikus Junior is a prime choice of a name."
"Well I like it."
"Of course," Christopher coaxes Wikus to curl back with him into the nest, the smaller prawn still muttering, too energized to consider sleep with their egg so close to hatching.
"As long as we don't name him Bartholomew, I'll be happy with any name."
"I like it." Christopher disagrees.
Wikus hmphs, "Apparently you forgot about that one prawn named Bartholomew Roberson…The one who had a tendency to chase after large cars, or would scurry across shack roofs and yip up at the moon during one of his cat food orgies?"
"…All right. No Bartholomew then." Christopher pauses, his antennas perking, "Perhaps we should call him Koobus?"
"Okay, now I know you're asking for a world of hurt, and don't try to use those puppy dog eyes on me!"
END
Author's Note: Kind of a cracktastic ending, but hey, I'm the writer. I can get away with anything with the wave of my magical wand.