Zim felt his spooch drop to the floor. There wasn't any way that was right. It was simply impossible. They were so different, the two of them. Their DNA was in no way compatible.
Sure, they had mated, but Dib's seed wouldn't be anywhere strong enough to survive the journey to fertilization.
Sure, Zim was in prime mating season and had released enough half-smeets to last a lifetime, but they were designed to await an Irken taller. Not a human taller.
And sure, Zim had without a doubt enjoyed the act, but that didn't mean he actually liked the human or cared to attempt it again.
He felt so tingly all over, was this what a smeet did to you?
The point was that the one simple act they completed wouldn't be able to create a viable smeet at all, let alone naturally without any assistance from the Empire.
The Empire.
He felt even worse, remembering his Tallest and the rest of his people. He would surely have his PAK removed over this, sentenced to the longest and most horrible of deaths. It was a punishment reserved for the most indecent of all crimes, something not even the Tallest would use on a shorter for laughs. To be stripped of a PAK and to become void of its benefits was cruel in every way imaginable.
It was to be cast out of the Irken Empire, to be considered an exile forever.
The prospect absolutely scared Zim, who, by his own deduction, wasn't afraid of anything. He cared so dearly for the empire and its prospects, and especially for its leaders.
He was a part of Operation Impending Doom II, sent to the outskirts of their known universe to Earth to hold down what could prove to be a great resistance.
Right? Right?
Zim was unsure now of his mission, despite how sure he wanted to be. He felt his pulse quicken, though it shouldn't have, with the ending of his cycle.
"When's the last time they called you, Zim? Or sent you supplies?"
The comment stung, Zim admitted to himself, but it couldn't have been anything more than a product of the moment, which had been tense to say the least. Dib was human, emotional, and his words could very well be explained with the impulses he felt.
What was that damned itching?
"Zim!" Dib called again, worrying for the small alien more than himself right now and wondering why he refused to respond.
Zim startled, shaking his head in an attempt to either wake up to a different reality or forget the one he was currently in. The tingling continued, emanating out from where he assumed the smeet would grow, and enveloping his skin. He looked at Dib, still curious why he was talking to Zim and was interested in staying at all.
He didn't have a purpose now that he was carrying a smeet. It would grow to be large, pressing against the other organs within his spooch and taking all of the already limited space. It would ruin his smooth, perfect form with its weak hands and tiny arms.
It would put his entire mission on hold or ruin it entirely. An invader, in no way shape or form, was designed to even carry a smeet to term. They were small to make blending in much easier with alien societies, making pregnancy difficult on their joints and outer extremities.
This too scared Zim.
Would he even survive this?
Would his body be able to support this? It was so unbearably itchy even right now.
"I…I can't keep it,Dib-thing." Zim said slowly, his sorrow and fear too strong for his pride to allow him to speak in the third person.
It would completely undermine his mission, and more than that, his purpose.
Dib's face visibly fell, his expression one of shock.
"W…what? What do you mean you can't keep it?" he pressed, outraged at the short, but incredibly important, phrase.
Zim inhaled sharply, finding it difficult to breathe. He meant what he said.
It was already a crime to carry the smeet, let alone carry it to term and give birth to it, if it didn't tear its way out of him first.
Its fingers, though soft and harmless like Dib's now, would eventually develop the trademark Irken claws that Zim too possessed.
Zim knew the feeling of his skin tearing, albeit it healed quickly, from the impact of another claw. It was not something he cared to remember that much.
"I…I can't keep it. It's not…not normal." he replied once more, struggling to form words. The tingling on his skin made him feel hot.
Apart from the physical risk of the smeet, it was even worse that it would taintthe Irken bloodline for good, assuming it, once matured, would also carry one to term.
The Tallest would be furious and would likely terminate all parties involved, including the smeet and Dib.
Honestly, he didn't care too much about the clump of cells growing inside him. Surprisingly, it was Dibhe was concerned about. Along with the growing heat he felt.
He didn't want him killed over Zim's own heat, over the pheromones forcing him to follow his most natural instinct.
It wasn't just wrong, it pained him to think about the demise of the human. It didn't make sense, either, why he cared.
Probably just the smeet talking on behalf of his father, which at present was a squishy human thing.
"Why not? We were obviously…compatible." Dib argued back, upset with Zim's quick assessment.
Zim wanted to get rid of it. It was clouding his thoughts and his actions. His PAK, unable to focus his mind on its own thoughts and desires, was trying to convince Zim otherwise, believing that it was a perfect specimen to be born into the Empire.
He could tell because he felt its probing itch in the back of his mind, doubting every waking thought he had about it.
It was annoying, just the same as that damneditch that seemed to have returned. No longer a tingling, it was even itchier and more irritating than it had been initially.
It confused Zim beyond recognition why he could still feel it.
His heat should have ended upon a successful impregnation, so why hadn't it? Just another reason to remove it.
It was almost as if his body wasn't registering its own pregnancy, as if his heat was still in full swing. It was definitely what it felt like to Zim.
"It's wrong!" Zim shrieked, infuriated by the heat overtaking him again and the argument Dib kept trying to give.
Dib shrunk back, startled by his outburst and fearing another swipe of those mean claws.
"Woah, woah, woah! I…I was just asking! Jeez!"
Zim calmed, seeing Dib's small, soft, and clawlesshands rise in surrender.
He was still sure he had to get rid of it, especially considering the issues he was experiencing at present.
Maybe it was all in his head, something he'd done to himself in an effort to stop believing what he knew was true.
There wasn't a possible way they could've been that easily compatible, and there was no way Zim was still feeling his cycle rise in intensity.
Dib gripped his wrist suddenly, his grip bruising Zim's pale green skin.
Zim gasped, both frightened by the touch and curious about its meaning.
"What…what are you doing?" he stuttered, suddenly smelling the tell-tale scent of his pheromone. Zim felt dread flood his thoughts.
Dib offered no reply, instead snatching the other wrist with an equally painful grip. He added it to his other hand, which easily wrapped around both of Zim's.
Zim felt sheer lustflood his senses, his center growing wet despite his wishes that it wouldn't. It was just the heat, he reminded himself. He had never considered, and would never consider, this with a human. Let alone Dib.
He tried to pull his hands back, hoping it was some sick joke, but the grip only grew tighter. A small whimper escaped Zim's lips with its force.
Dib's other hand snatched the blanket around Zim with a fury, letting it drop to the floor and leave Zim's form bare.
Zim felt his face flare hot with a blush, growing even hotter upon realizing he had no way to cover himself. No way to cover the slick that was dripping down his thighs.
He could easily see that Dib was aroused, and it aroused Zim even more against his will.
"N…no!" he tried to protest, though weakly in his current position.
Dib walked Zim into the wall, pressing his hips and length into Zim's, which were quickly responding to the stimulus.
Zim didn't want this, didn't want to go through with this again.
But he did.
Dib pressed Zim's front into the wall of the hallway, touching his bare inner thighs with his thick fingers.
His hands gripped Zim's hips, pulling him back towards his body.
Zim felt his length, thick with lust, press against his backside and wedge against the slick of his candy center. His lips pressed to Zim's neck, sucking bruises that would last for days to come, so painful and so good.
Zim drew in a quick breath, and was turned towards him in an instant, pressed into the wall and kept from any escape. Dib lifted him into his surprisingly strong arms, pressing him further into the cold metal.
He wanted to move so badly, but his body was useless in the throes of heat.
The small alien felt his hands grab handfuls of the flesh on his thighs and backside, spreading him open while he growled in his ear. He pressed kisses into Zim's cheek and neck, moaning praises for the way he cried out for the human's touch.
He hated himself for the way he did that, for how he was so easily giving into the enemy.
His hands pulled Zim close against him, picking him up while he breathed shakily against his clavicle. He adjusted Zim on the wall, lifting him higher against it and breaking away from him for a moment.
Dib looked at Zim, his eyes blown wide with lust and his face wet with swear. His hands were already on Zim's chest, forcing dark passionate markings onto the soft flesh. Zim couldn't help it and closed his eyes from the stimulation, whimpering with the familiar touch.
He cursed himself for the sound escaping his lips. He didn't want this!
Dib's hands were hot, sliding up and down Zim's thin frame with a desire matching that of an animal's. The pair breathed against each other's lips, panting with desire in the quiet space. His met Zim's in a fury, pressing ever closer to him.
They bit roughly at his, while his bare chest pressed into the other. Zim felt his hands dig into his hips once more, pulling him even closer. He felt Dib's length line up with the lips of his center, both of their breaths catching with anticipation.
Zim tried to squirm out of his grasp, tried to will his muscles to move.But they didn't.
His hands shifted to Zim's thighs, lifting them slightly and spreading them farther. He met his lips in an instant, simultaneously burying himself inside Zim. He cried out into the kiss, feeling his thick length throb against his slick-coated walls.
Zim trembled, trying so hard to escape this, but only feeling pleasure radiate throughout.
His body demanded the seed of this mate,not caring who or what it was.
He wanted so badly to make the human leave, to call for his computer to "escort" Dib out. But that too wasn't an option, seeing as it required a manual reset.
As per Zim's command.
For the time being, Zim was reduced to crying out with every thrust, the pleasure overwhelming and the regret almost suffocating.
He just wanted to be able to focus, to be able to do more than dig his claws into Dib's back, which only seemed to spur him on more.
Zim cried out, louder, feeling Dib's length slide inside him at a particularly pleasurable angle.
He blushed blue again, hating himself for being so unable to control himself. He wanted Dib to stop hitting that spot and making his toes curl over and over.
But it was too late at this point. Dib had heard Zim's cries and had adjusted accordingly, loving the way how Zim neededthis.
And he did need this. It felt so, so good and despite his earlier reservations about Dib, it was getting hard to fight it.
After all, this was what Zim's body was programmed to do. It was what he evolved to do and no amount of genetic engineering or suppressants could change that.
Dib's thrusts into Zim grew rougher, his deep voice making his enjoyment obvious.
Zim knew exactly what was coming, and didn't want it. Not in the slightest. He tried to protest, but the only sound he was able to form was Dib's name, which very quickly proved to be a mistake.
Dib's teeth sank into the junction between Zim's neck and shoulder, hard.Absolute pleasure ricocheted within Zim's body, due in part to both the feeling of Dib's seed and the pain on his skin.
Overloaded with stimuli and unable to process anything at all, Zim's PAK decided the most logical course of action was to shut down and, of course, take him with it.