Title: Spearing the Tide (2/2)
Author: dreamerchaos
Pairing: PrawnsxWikus
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Pron. Dub-con?
Summary: The new District is no better than the last. And just like the other District, a handful of prawns are induced into a near crazed state of lust and a combination of rage as a pheromone cycle kicks in. The human meat sellers grow frustrated with losing business as a result of these few, so they refer to old measures from District 9 for how to deal with the amorous rutting prawns.
Wikus tries to blend in with the darkest deepest corner of the unlit room when his sensitive hearing catches the sound of grunts and the heave of the barrier tossed from the front of the door. He scrambles away from the short halo of light that washes the floor and melts into the shadows as the prawns enter the shack while the door is slammed shut behind them.
His efforts prove to be a failure when the two prawns only take several seconds to pinpoint the smaller prawn by scent and they swiftly crawl in his direction.
"Get away!" Wikus slaps away their hands and makes a desperate dive for the door even though he knows it is useless but perhaps fate would bare a rare smile upon him and turn out to be kind.
A heavy body collides with his back and shoves the smaller prawn to the ground.
The electric yellow prawn snarls with conquest, the smaller pinned prawn wriggles and struggles underneath him.
"No!" Wikus can't raise his hands to claw at the prawn's face since the other prawn snags and pins his wrists.
"Fook you!" Wikus gasps, cringes as the yellow prawn nuzzles underneath his chin. In between Wikus' legs he can feel the warm dampness spread as the prawn rocks against him, proboscis eagerly dipping outward and nudges between Wikus' thighs.
To both Wikus and the electric yellow prawn's surprise a large blue-gray hand snags the side of the yellow prawn's head.
"No." The darker prawn growls as the yellow whines from the curl of talons pressed against his carapace, "We do this together. Three. Not two. Not one." There is a heady shine in his amber eyes, but the darkest of the pair appears to maintain the most control over his mental faculties.
"What—" Wikus gulps as he is dragged up to sit in the darker prawn's lap, "Wait! Is…shouldn't we discuss this first?" He curls self-consciously as the yellow prawn slides downward, large hands glide down and split his legs open. Dark clawed hands flex across his chest and abdomen, drag in between the very faint dips and seams. Wikus keens when the yellow prawn rips apart his shorts due to his excitement and feverishly pawing hands, the smaller prawn arching against the dark one's chest in a failed effort to try and scuttle away from the increasingly invasive massage of claws and tentacles.
The dark blue prawn growls against the side of his neck. Wikus quakes as the dancing tips of numerous tentacles waltz across the overlapped carapace of his nape and throat.
Wikus wiggles and shifts restlessly as the yellow prawn slides lower. The smaller prawn 'eeps' and tries to clap his thighs shut, but the other prawn's shoulders are a wide barrier and his knees merely clench against the yellow one's biceps.
Wikus hisses when the darker prawn slips his hands against the soft inside of his thighs and split him open wider to allow the yellow prawn easy access. Wikus jerks his head left and right in silent denial whilst the yellow prawn purrs, his breath gently dusts the slim tight opening nestled in the center of soft prawn flesh.
Wikus squeals as the tips of the prawn's tentacles nip and nudge at the mouth of his entrance. The yellow prawn chases the scent molecules and damp flavor when Wikus tries to shudder away. The larger prawn between his legs growls, mandibles curled with concentration as a quarter length of his tentacles stretch forward and pierce the smaller prawn's opening.
The smaller prawn judders at the probe and sensation of the handful of tentacles lapping within the mouth of his entrance.
He squeaked sharply at the shocking curl of the prawn's long tongue, the appendage reminds Wikus of a curled whip tongue that a butterfly will use to lap up nectar. Wikus whines as the tongue uncurled and stretched to its full length, piercing him so deep that Wikus dreads he can soon taste it within the depths of his throat.
The dark blue prawn growls in ardor, devotedly observant of the thrust and pull of the yellow prawn's tongue. He rocks his hips against Wikus' posterior, his fingers spreading apart just so that the tips of his claws can curl into the tight wetness of Wikus' entrance alongside the yellow prawn's tongue.
Wikus moans at the additional stimulation and pressure that pushes inside. He pants sharply, head dropping back against the prawn's shoulder, the ceiling above slowly growing murky with the thick heat and a sweeping rouge of throbbing tension that slowly floods his body.
'Wh-What's wrong with me?' He knows that rationally he should make an effort to struggle and resist but there is a sudden yearning to relax and lie supine. Wikus tries to shift and raise his head, but the effort is too much.
Wikus jolts and rocks his hips in answer to the thrust of fingers and curled tongue. And that is when realization smacks him alongside the face.
The rogues were in a rutting season. Could they be releasing specified pheromones that would relax or sedate their partner? And could it be?-Wikus drops his eyes down to the prawn nestled between his legs—could their saliva secret an agent that would assist in pacifying any resistance?
Wikus' knees rattle when the yellow prawn retracts his tongue, damp mandibles and tentacles weaving as he slips upward, hunching against Wikus' chest as he pushes forward. Wikus' hands claw at the prawn's back and shoulders, face clenched against the slow sharp push as the prawn presses into him.
Carapace rattles and grinds their hard exoskeleton bump and scratch. The yellow prawn purrs, shudders at the sting of Wikus' small claw tips snagging the edges of his carapace ridges.
The darker prawn slides his hands around to cup the yellow prawn's lower back. He guides the prawn to slow down and concentrate his thrusts less the yellow prawn comes too soon.
Wikus can feel his smaller binary hands clench and wind with the yellow prawn's; the yawning stretch of an unseen black void that holds him beyond the precipice is slowly shrinking as the jolting pleasure pools and rises like magma. Against his back Wikus can feel the sharp bite and short nips of the darker prawn, the thick wet shaft probes incessantly against his posterior and lower back as the large prawn growls and shifts about in frustration.
Suddenly the electric yellow prawn squeals and jerks and Wikus gasps as the thick hot flood of wetness that dashes against his insides, the shivering walls bathed with the viscous black fluid. The yellow prawn rattles and jerks, pumping sporadically into the smaller prawn, chasing the last dregs of friction that leaves him weak at the knees.
The darker prawn finally loses patience with waiting. Both Wikus and the yellow prawn yelp when they are shoved, the yellow prawn torn from Wikus and falling onto his back. Wikus sprawls forward across the stunned prawn's chest, hands curled between their chests.
The smaller prawn yips in surprise when the large body slides smoothly upon his extended back, large hands weld onto his hips and the dark prawn jerks the smaller prawn's hips and spreads his thighs. Wikus moans and drops his head between his shoulders when he is pierced a second time, the sensitized tunnel quaking, clenched around the prawn's shaft. Wikus whines and shudders, feeling as if a spear is sliding into him and splitting him open.
The yellow prawn growls, wraps his arms around Wikus' shoulders and begins to thrust upward, the smaller prawn settled between his long legs. The prawn purrs and nuzzles Wikus' chin, murmuring with pleasure when Wikus helplessly shudders as his shaft slips outside its protective sheath. Their shafts brush and parry, Wikus clinging to the yellow prawn as the dark fluid beads along their hips and paints strips across their stomachs.
The darker prawn's significant weight advantage pushes Wikus flat against the yellow prawn, the smaller prawn's face buried in the brighter carapace of the prawn's neck. The thrusts are long, hard, and slow. Wikus pants and gulps for air, barely able to catch his breath before another thrust shoves him off-balance literally and figuratively.
Since it is his second round it takes far less time for Wikus to gasp a final time as he comes, hips and thighs trembling as fluid spills from his shaft, joining the growing pool of black tar seed as the electric yellow prawn moans and comes a second time.
Wikus' hard exoskeleton does not allow him the human inconvenience of flushing a terrible shade of crimson when the darker prawn snarls and floods his insides. The smaller prawn wriggles and moans softly as his tunnel and chamber overflow, the dark fluid smearing the inside of his thighs as the excess flow seeps outward, tracking down his lower body.
The smaller prawn moans again, this time in slight discomfort as the darker prawn collapses on top of him, pinning him between the two prawns. Wikus pants shakily, exhausted from the long, rough, but sinfully divine row. He doesn't know whether he can claim that their prawns' pheromones had waylaid his common sense and left him to their mercy, or if his solitary isolation made him prone and wanting for companionship.
Regardless, he is spent and caked with fluids, and all he wants to do is retreat back to his shack and nest and try to find a single clean wet cloth in order to get clean. The fluids are already drying upon his carapace, the obsidian fluid marking his activities, a larger banner for any prawns within a mile radius.
When Wikus tries to shimmy free from the cage of tangled arms, the thicker limbs tighten and curl around him. The darker prawn purrs and rubs and grinds against him.
Wikus blinks then jerks in shock as another wave of haziness and heat floods him.
He isn't terribly surprised when he is rolled onto his back―much to the yellow prawn's discontent since he is again pinned to the floor―But Wikus is otherwise distracted when the darker prawn shuffles forward and confidently slips in between Wikus' thighs.
Wikus would hide underneath his nest of soft blankets if it weren't for his red carapace guest, the other prawn patiently shoves Wikus onto his back while scrapping away the last flakes of black fluid from the prawn's stomach and thighs.
"You should not feel embarrassed." The prawn growls while he idly flicks away the curled flakes from his claws. Wikus' appointed guardian taking whatever measures to wash and clean the sullen younger prawn.
"Everyone in the neighborhood can smell them on me!" Wikus moans, his antennas curled over his forehead in shame.
The red prawn chuffs with laughter, "So they know that you had a good hard fuck. I'm sure it was memorable." The prawn chortles with further laughter and Wikus' aghast, mortified expression, "I too have had to endure the affections of prawns that are in a rut. It is certainly annoying and sometimes overwhelming, but you are left with a pleasurable ache to last you several days."
"Don't remind me." Wikus clicks, twining his legs together as he hisses and burrows into his nest, "I don't think I can move for an entire week."
"Poor thing," The red prawn purrs. He pats Wikus' back in conciliation.
Wikus growls half-heartedly.
"Well, at the very least you made the meat sellers happy." The prawn shrugs, "You're guaranteed to get a discount on their products. I even heard that the old human was asking about you to make sure that you hadn't been injured by the two rogues."
Wikus rolls his eyes but says nothing else.
The red prawn gracefully rises onto his feet. "Well, I will return home now that you are clean and otherwise fine save for exhaustion and a slight twinge of pain. And don't give me that look. You should be thanking me. I'm the one who has to return to my shack where my roommate will literally climb up the walls when he smells you on me. Those rogues' pheromones and your own musk will cost me an entire night worth of sleep fending off an amorous roommate."
Wikus can't say that his heart bleeds with sympathy, but he does bury a faint smile of amusement as the other prawn continues to mutter under his breath as he leaves the shack.
Another three months later, the meat sellers are sullen and annoyed. Another prawn is within a rut season, this rogue affecting the humans' sells of meat and scaring away customers.
The old man scowls as he slaps a piece of cow flesh into a customer's hand, the weathered human chomping on a stub of a cigar as he contemplates his loss of profit.
The next prawn in line catches his attention, and the human's wrinkled face splits with a sunny smile of yellow teeth and narrow eyes.
"Ahhhh…if it isn't pretty Blue Eyes," The human greets his customer.
Wikus shuffles forward, eyes scanning the selection of meat for sell.
The old man waves his hand back and forwards the snag the prawn's attention, "Listen, Blue Eyes. I have a problem that I think you can help me fix. I've got a big, handsome black prawn who I know would be very happy to meet you." At the prawn's narrowed glance and uninterested air, the human wheedles, "You know that I take good care of my customers. I'll give you a whole lamb if you help me again." He barters shamelessly.
"…" The small prawn simply looks at him for a long while. Wikus' binary hands curl and unfurl before settling down. His eyes lock with the human's. "One whole lamb for me and one lamb for each of my neighbors."
'You little bastard-' But the human smiles toothily and chuckles. "You're a smart bugger, huh? Certainly know that I'm in a corner and when and what to barter. All right, Blue Eyes. You got yourself a deal."
Wikus patiently follows the old human as he is led away from the line. At the rear of the long line, his red prawn neighbor catches his eye, the prawn's mandibles twitch with humor as he glances knowingly at the small prawn.
Wikus shrugs. If he has a choice in the entire matter, then he'd better make good use of the old man's need for him. Sure, Wikus didn't feel all that different from one of Mbube's whores, but at least he was guaranteed a full belly and a long solid session with a partner who didn't share the humans' tendencies to slap around or degrade a prostitute that they had just purchased. For being such a hideous species in the humans' eyes, prawns were far more gentle and less abusive then their fleshy, small native neighbors.
The smaller prawn scents the air, catching the heavy whiff of musk at least half a mile away. He can hear the men shout, followed by the roar of a frustrated large prawn. Wikus can't help but to shiver with an altercation of trepidation and desire as he follows the old man to meet the recent prawn who has been causing the humans so much trouble.
END
Author's Note: I feel so dirty…(Yum..) Wikus, you shameless wanton thing. Just wait till Christopher returns and you have to explain your harem of prawns that you have lured in with your charms.