Disclaimer: I do not own nor profit from District 9, its story, characters or franchise.
-o-o-o-
Christopher could smell Wikus's distress a mile away, and it instilled him with a cold rage to his core. Oliver had explained the circumstances on the way, and it sent a surge of gratitude and surprise at the other's protective instincts. Especially considering the hybrid's past.
Depositing his son on a neighbor's doorstep, a trustworthy Poleepkwa by the name of George, Christopher ordered in a tone that brooked no argument, "Wait here."
Then he took off.
-o-o-o-
Wikus gasped and writhed under the unwanted attention, trying to curl into a ball to evade the ever-seeking hands of his tormentors. At first it had been harsh and painful, the touches. Bitter and vengeful in the face of the hybrid's previous feat of bravery.
But then it turned into another type of force, the trio crooning as they explored the hybrid's body at their leisure. He jerked at their touches, leaning away. But there was only so far he could go, on the ground as he was. The three had reached an unspoken consensus, the two smaller ones pinning his wrist and ankles with their bodies, hands unhindered, while the third straddled the unlucky hybrid, doing whatever he desired.
Wikus felt his traitorous body quivering under their ministrations, slit growing wet, beckoning the bigger Prawn to it. When the other male's antennae quivered, head jerking to the source of the tantalizing scent, the hybrid knew he was doomed.
Fookin' Prawn bodies and their fookin' sense of smell.
It was a constant source of trouble for Wikus, even as he gagged on the overabundance of pheromones clogging the small room.
As the other Prawn slid between his legs, spreading him, Wikus shut his eyes, knocking his head against the ground in despair.
He wanted to be anywhere but there.
He almost imagined the scent of Christopher in the stifling shack.
"Christopher..." He found himself whimpering, as though the dominant would appear. Though it was too slight a sound for the trio to make out clearly.
The bigger brown paused, tip exposed and ready for penetration, as the smaller Prawns stopped him.
"Who is that?" One of the thinner Poleepkwa crooned gruffly, above the hybrid's head, where he sat pinning Wikus's wrists.
"Your mate?" The second echoed in question from his feet.
Wikus, surprised at their sudden interest, shook his head wordlessly in a negative. His eyes remained glued to the unsheathed rod of the other, larger Prawn, fearful of what was to come.
Noting the hybrid appreciating his size, the bigger Prawn pumped his finger -instead- inside the slick opening, drinking in Wikus's shudder and gasp, ebony pelvis rising of its own accord. The brown plated Poleepkwa demanded in a surly voice, "Then who was that you just called out to?"
"P-please..." Wikus keened, shuddering at each slow twist of the tentacle inside him, grateful at least that it was not the Prawn's massive cock. His eyes were tightly shut as he turned his head, "Stop this..."
He could taste their excitement at his helplessness. And it flipped his stomach inside out.
What was worse was the slow coil of heat in his belly. The urge coming stronger with each beating pulse in his veins, and each stroke of the invasive tentacle. His hips arched off the ground, legs trembling in their restraints. The body between them was too wide. Unwelcome. All three of them were.
He keened in fear and frustration. Why wouldn't they stop?
"Who do you call out for?" One of the smaller Prawn repeated.
Wikus's breath strangled and died in his throat, shaking his head. Wishing his hips would stop moving. The heat was getting unbearable, curling tighter and tighter down towards his loins. The only sounds in the shack were the wet slurping of the bigger Prawn's tentacle fingering his cloaca, and Wikus's ragged breathing.
"Who?" The larger one demanded, shoving his finger harder and faster into the slick opening, driving the hybrid closer and closer to his peak.
"Christopher." Wikus gasped and mewled, not quite aware of what he was saying, as he struggled fervently against his captors. Attempting with all his strength to push himself away from the tormenting heat, the hybrid only managed a foot or two before he was dragged back, to be brutally impaled once more by the waiting tentacle.
The ebony Prawn writhed and cried out, "Christopher!"
He could feel his end nearing. But this was wrong! He could not be sullied by these- these fookin' perverts!
"Who in the cosmos is that?" The larger Prawn snorted incredulously, focused on watching the hybrid about to cum from his forced ministrations.
They all were.
Too focused.
When the door slammed shut -none having even heard it open- they were overwhelmed with the taste of absolute rage within the shack. They all turned as one, Wikus slower than the rest, teetering just on the brink of an orgasm. He blinked hard. Once. Twice. For he could hardly believe his eyes.
It was Christopher. He was never more glad to see that emerald plated Poleepkwa, red vest swinging, as though the dominant had been on the move just moments before. His stance was tense, the very air about him thrumming and vibrating in the broiling anger emanating from his emerald core. His antennae hardly moved, aggressively flattened as they were back against his head. There was a twitch or two, as though the coiled fury couldn't keep completely still as the energy was too much.
But Fook those eyes...
Wikus felt like he would be charred, fookin' burnt to a crisp while his own ashes burst to flame, just from the pure heat in those crimson orbs. And the glare was not even focused on him. They flickered once to the hybrid, the look wavering, before hardening further. Wikus swallowed deeply. Had he done something wrong?
Then Christopher was focused on the three brownish-gray Prawns that were now standing, clearly shaken by the amount of murderous intent pouring from him, but refusing to show their anxiety.
Before anything else could be done or even said, Christopher spoke first.
Who had the hybrid been calling?
He answered their question for Wikus, his tone deadly and dry as the air around them, his click rasping as though having to fight past a throat constricted in rage, "...*ME*"
This was not like the other fight with Shaun. There were no more noises coming from the furious green Poleepkwa after that single uttered syllable, the amount of fury in that single sound was terrifying enough. He was deathly silent. And his movements were sudden, and without a shred of mercy.
The other three, on the other hand...
Right before the green dominant started moving, three pairs of eyes had widened in recognition of the vengeful presence in the room. They paled as if they had seen a ghost, their antennae flattened to the sides in distress, nervous clicks almost intelligible in their rapidity.
"Ezra'eed-" One of them had gasped, about to beg and plead for his life.
But it didn't matter.
Christopher had not an ounce of sympathy at his simmering core. Not for these three. Not for touching what was his.
Pleas and cries of how they didn't know fell on deaf ears, sliding off the stone cold shelling as flattened bugs would after reaching terminal velocity with a speeding semi.
His steps were silent. His hands were swift. And his movements unforgiving.
The only sounds were their pathetic attempts to abate the storm that was Christopher, and the sounds of their hard plates cracking one at a time. They put up a valiant effort to last a few moments longer. But it was pointless.
They were dead before Christopher had even stepped into the room.
Wikus was frozen where he lay, unable to move. Though whether from the previous ministrations, or from fear, he could not say. Fook, maybe both.
Not that it seemed to matter.
Shadows danced in the room.
Christopher, with the rigid grace of a silent executioner, would step easily over and around him. And if the other bumbling Prawn were about to step or trip on the hybrid in any fashion, they were immediately yanked back or hurled forward by the dominant's immeasurable strength.
It was when one of the Prawn was hurled against a fake wall, a crack forming big enough to see the medieval laboratory on the other side, that Wikus finally pieced together the nagging familiarity. This was the shack he had retrieved the black cylinder from!
He remembered that day almost as if it had been yesterday, his mind grateful to be transported away.
-o- FLASHBACK -o-
The electronic whirr of the camera was drowned out by the background noise of pounding Nigerian music in the distance, as well as peppered gunshots and shouting. The usual daily noises of the District. And while it did stir the unease in his gut, it was not affecting him so much as to become an extreme nervous wreck like his predecessor, Fundiswa, shuffling behind him.
Bolstered by the courage dredged from a fear of Tania's father, as well as the fact that soon the whole world would be watching just what MNU was about, Wikus stepped up and pounded on the tin door.
"MNU, open up please!" He declared, turning to smile at the camera.
He knocked once more, hearing movement inside.
When the door finally whipped open, he couldn't help leaning back a little as an electric yellow Prawn answered the door.
"Hi, MNU here," Wikus quickly flashed his badge, sensing the other's irritation. He held up the clipboard next, "I'm gonna need you to sign this eviction notice."
The Prawn seemed to size him up, looking out at the others before promptly shutting the door.
Wikus had learned quickly that if you gave these aliens an inch, they would take a whole fookin' mile. So he hastily pounded on the door, "Hey! Hey that was not very nice! Open up now, please!"
The door cracked open once more, only for the yellow head to peak out, before swinging shut. But Wikus reacted quickly, sticking his foot in the door.
"Now-now sir, that is not very nice! I just want to speak to you and-and get your scrawl here on this paper. See?" Wikus waved the clipboard again, "There may even be some cat food in it for you."
Those antennae perked up at the mention of the canned delicacy, those intelligent eyes brightening. Wikus had yet to figure out what it was about the stuff. He had never taken up any of those habits, such as smoking or drinking, that were notorious for grabbing a hold of so many. So he had nothing to really compare it to. Unless you counted being a workaholic as one of them.
"Yes, yes, definitely some cat food for you! If you would just step outside for a moment with me please, sir." Wikus quickly backed up as the other stepped out, not wishing to get run over by a Prawn almost twice his height and twenty times more strong.
The yellow Prawn's coloring flashed brightly in the daylight, head swiveling left and right as if searching for the promised goods.
Wikus raised the clipboard once more, eager to get out of the harsh afternoon sun and back to the good old air-conditioning of the MNU tower, "Yes, you will get your cat food, I just need your scrawl here sir-"
The yellow advanced quickly, having determined that perhaps the flailing human had the can food on his person. It all happened so fast it was a blur. The gunman next to the camera crew raised his weapon, yelling at the possible danger.
Sensing the tension in the air, the Prawn immediately turned aggressive.
Just as Wikus shouted for them to stop, he found himself flung yards in the air, before colliding sickly with a hard blue structure. The scent of shit overwhelmed him before the pain struck, making him gag and reel from everything hitting him at once. He heard shouting outside of his makeshift landing, the thought of something going wrong urging him faster to his feet than he thought possible. Adrenaline stopped his limp arm from affecting his movements as he clambered quickly back to the hut.
The yellow Prawn was submissive now, on his knees with his hands behind his head. Wikus was quick to smack the radio out of the guard's hands, just as he was about to call in the strike team. But Wikus had a foreboding feeling about Colonel Koopus. The man was not to be trusted with as delicate an assignment as this. Van de Merwe was not quite sure what happened in that man's past, but when he had looked into those eyes earlier, they had chilled his very bones. Koopus was up to no good.
He wanted blood.
And would take any excuse to get it.
"Misunderstanding..." Wikus gasped in explanation to the sour look he received, "I'll take-take fookin' care of this mess..."
"Sir! Your arm!" Fundiswa exclaimed, the black man rushing to his side, but Wikus waved him off.
The other guard holding the gun looked to have an itchy trigger finger, and Wikus quickly stepped between him and the kneeling Prawn to prevent any further incident.
Wikus swayed on his feet as a wave of nausea hit, swearing before focusing on the concerned Prawn before him.
"Fook! Jus-just sign the fookin' paper man, and we'll be on our way." Wikus promised. At the frown he received, Wikus glanced at the guards, then the Prawn. He didn't know where the surge of compassion came from. He was not like his fiance's father. He could not just evict millions of residents and not feel a single ounce of guilt for it. But he had to do this. Had to prove to his future in-laws that he was the right choice for their daughter. So he advised slowly, voice serious yet quiet so as not to be overheard, "Just-just trust me on this, sir. It's not worth it to end up down in the dirt with a bullet in your brain."
Those eyes hardened, the antennae stilling even as those mandibles worked, as though tasting something vile in his mouth. But eventually the Prawn took another look at the guns, then back at Wikus. The antennae drooped slightly, facial plates loosening, as the yellow Prawn slowly nodded.
Relieved, Wikus quickly got the alien to sign before promptly heading over to the side of the shack and passing his breakfast to the uncaring dirt of the African compound. He could've sworn he glimpsed what looked to be a lab inside as the Prawn left him to his business, closing the door quickly behind him. But Wikus waved it off due to the extreme heat and his own questionable mental faculties at that point and time.
However, something else did catch his eye that was most definitely *not* a hallucination.
The gleaming black cylinder winked up at him from the ground. And Wikus frowned, recognizing the alien markings written on the side. It sounded almost as though a bell-like tinkering resonated from the foreign object, not unlike the ticker of a radioactive sensor, except less harsh. Mesmerized, he crouched closer, inspecting it. Drawn in, almost.
He then made the worst mistake of his life as he picked it up.
-o- PRESENT -o-
Wikus came back to silence in the shack. And deep, heaving breaths.
What had become of his attackers?
But he had his own problems.
An intense burning was broiling inside of him. Consuming all thoughts. He could barely move.
He keened lowly.
A footstep to his left.
Wikus was quick to glance up from the ground, apparently having stayed in the same spot from the beginning of the fight to the end. Thankfully it was Christopher. But the other Poleepkwa did not look well. He looked strained. As though fighting with an inner turmoil that Wikus could not see.
Christopher's mandibles flared, as if scenting something.
With a spike of embarrassment, Wikus realized it must be himself.
Though it did not match the deep flush under his faceplates as he found his hand reaching in between his legs, touching his aching core. In front of Christopher!
Considering the circumstances, Wikus was more than horrified at himself. He even noted the slight widening of those watchful ruby eyes, before the gaze became hooded.
"I'm sorry, Christopher-" Wikus apologized profusely, even as he gasped with his own finger inserting itself in his slick opening, "I can't stop my- do you, um- mind waiting outside -Fook!- for a bit? Hmm?"
"No." The dominant rumbled, gaze lowering to watch the hybrid slowly fucking himself.
Wikus's inner human side blazed with heated embarrassment, but his body didn't care. It even seemed to welcome the dominant's presence, as it hadn't with the Poleepkwa before. Not Shaun nor the trio that were currently prone across the shack. That ruby gaze even seemed to intensify the stirrings in his gut.
"F-Fook..." Wikus cursed, in no condition to force the other out. He doubted he could get up and walk if he tried. What the three had started needed to be finished. He didn't know if it was a biological thing, or if the new sensation was just too much, but he needed to reach his peak before he could do anything else, much less argue with the pig-headed Poleepkwa before him.
And unfortunately, Christopher had made it abundantly clear in that single phrase that he was not leaving. Not unless Wikus was coming with him.
And in the paralyzing state he was, Wikus wouldn't be going anywhere. For the time being.
"Please? Just-just a moment, Christopher?" Wikus's breath hitched, hips jerking as he found a particularly sensitive spot.
Those eyes darkened, antennae frozen at a forward slant. The green dominant did not even look to be breathing. His attention was all consuming, and Wikus felt his insides jolt at the intensity of it.
He knew the reply before the dominant's repeated, growled reply clicked shortly, "No."
Grudgingly accepting the one-Prawned audience, Wikus forced his eyes shut, focusing on pleasuring himself.
Better just to get this over with, eh?
The sooner he could reach completion, the sooner he could forget all about this embarrassing little debacle.
Fook, but why did it have to be so hard?
Wikus knew, from diagrams before, that his new Prawn body should be designed with a cock as well as this vaginal opening, but the more familiar of the two refused to show itself. As if he needed the extra difficulty. Especially with mister fookin' strong, deadly, and silent watching over his shoulder. It sent a shiver of lust down his spine.
Fook that's it.
If he was ever able to return to human society, he was destined for the mental ward. Or a psychotherapist at the very least.
Wikus, with much surprise, found his body easily forgetting his embarrassment, hips rocking to the tempo set by his tentacles. He clenched his mandibles, in an attempt to keep his groans to himself. But the mewls and keening sounds kept slipping through.
Christopher, on the other hand, was sure he had been placed in hell. The most desirable Poleepkwa he had ever set his sights on, was currently pleasuring himself.
Right. In front. Of him.
It took every measure of control, and then some, to stop himself from holding the hybrid down, and plowing him senseless. His own rod pulsed hot and heavy within its cramped confines. But he knew better than to abuse Wikus in this. The urges were overwhelming when experienced. Not to mention what the first must bring. And to be brought close without completion was utter torment.
At this point, arguments or not, Wikus would probably agree to anything.
But it was not right.
Christopher was his guardian, he couldn't possibly-
Wikus keened in frustration for the third time in a row, unable to bring himself the necessary satisfaction. Not alone and uneducated as he was.
-to hell with it. Christopher closed in.
Wikus didn't understand it. He just couldn't finish. Try as he might, he would only bring himself to the brink, only to fall, shudderingly, back midway. He had completely forgotten someone else was there, when his own hand was suddenly swatted aside, a deep voice rumbling, "You are in need of assistance, human. I will provide it."
Wikus's mismatched eyes were open in a flash, glaring at the dominant's presumptuousness, "Christopher Johnson, don't you dare- gah! Ngh, Fook!"
But the emerald dominant's mouth was too busy for a suitable reply. He had lunged in between Wikus's spread legs, and took liberties with the offered slit before permission was even sought or given. The sensation of Christopher's mandibles down *there* was just too much.
The ebony Prawn's sleek black form arched, the tendrils tasting his very core even as he tried to clamp his legs shut, to force the dominant out. With a growl, Christopher had Wikus's knees in his grasp, easily pushing the hybrid's legs apart as he pulled back to glower at the younger.
He fought the insatiable need in him to continue without explanation. But he owed Wikus that much, though the hybrid youngling may have made some bad choices that ultimately led up to this. He didn't know better.
"You will go through the rest of the day with this burning need, every other Poleepkwa jumping you and pawing you until their own fill is sated, unless you allow me to give you your completion." The explanation was abrupt. To the point.
And Fook if that heated look on Christopher's faceplates didn't send a surge of pleasure straight to Wikus's core.
Wikus crooned, body trembling. Unused to these intense surges jolting through his body. Christopher's hardened look softened, but his determination was still there. His look seemed to say, 'You will accept my help, whether you want to or not'. Though Wikus could almost swear there was a... hint of, what, lust...? But it had to be the pheromones. Wikus had heard of many stories of the overwhelming scent of pheromones over campfire nights. And of stronger Prawns falling unwittingly for the more alluring of scents. Intrigued, Wikus would always listen in on these conversations, and more often than not the speakers would glance at the ebony and cerulean splashed hybrid. But they had been Christopher's people, and Curtis -that rusty red drone- had always been around to grunt at the more headstrong that moved as though to interact with the clueless hybrid. Though Wikus had thought nothing of it then, because Travis had always managed to distract the hybrid in some way or 'nother.
Shaun's words came back to haunt him. Could Wikus, just an average male by human standards, be truly irresistible by Poleepkwa standards?
And could Christopher -the ever controlled dominant- resist such a heady call?
Despite the violent undercurrent of lust Wikus could finally identify in those piercing orbs, Wikus could clearly see Christopher was still in very much control of himself. What he was offering was simply a way to end Wikus's torment. Whether the hybrid asked for it was apparently not his call.
Feeling the tendril of hope crushed within him, a hope Wikus barely even recognized for what it might be, the ebony Prawn felt his anxiety shift once more to the more familiar anger.
"Fookin' bastard." Wikus relented, the assent coming out in a growl.
Caught off guard by the shift in the hybrid's demeanor, Christopher gathered himself for a moment.
He replied with a smirk, "Foolish human."
Then his head went back down, Wikus's legs quivered and trembled as he arched, and a symphony of curses and thrusts filled the silence of the shack.
Wikus was seeing stars before his shut lids, hands scrabbling for purchase on the ground beneath him. His control, and the paired heat in his loins, was spiraling out of control.
The vision of Tania, his dear, bittersweet love, was fading to the background. She had abandoned him when he needed her most. That phone call, that heart-wrenching, soul-crushing phone call, had driven away the last vestiges of his want -no, his need- to return to human society. His friends and family, all of them, had turned their backs on him. Had believed the lies. The web spun by the manipulative, deceitful sack of crap that was his ex's father, and the MNU that he had devoted his whole life to. Everyone had failed him.
All but Christopher.
And it was his face that appeared in Wikus's vision.
His red eyes that he wanted to see, as the beginning ripples of his climax hit him.
The ebony Prawn snapped open his mismatched gaze, staring up at the ceiling before he pushed himself up on his elbows, to look at the talented dominant working his skills and magic between Wikus's trembling legs.
Blue and amber gaze widened, at the sight of the stronger green between his spread thighs. Those ruby orbs, they were watching him. Drinking in all his reactions. A dark, unreadable gleam in their swirling depths.
A thrill of heat and pleasure shocked the hybrid at that gaze. That unreadable look. And he mewled and keened loudly.
"Christo- wait, I'm gonna- Chris- ah!" Wikus broke the gaze, throwing his head back as the orgasm rocked his world, his warning washed away in its tide. He came, his loud moan strangled in his throat as he cried out, "Chris-Christopher!"
His body grew taut, his elbows no longer holding him up as his back arched strongly, keeping him upright through the body wrenching shakes of the strongest climax he ever had. He saw the stars. And more.
What he did not see was the immensely pleased and wondrous smirk that adorned the emerald dominant's faceplates.
His blood rushed heartily in his eardrums, drowning out every other noise. He waited for the shame to fill his limbs at the favor the dominant did for him. But it never came. It was just a boneless satisfaction that spread throughout his body like a warm blanket. Flat on his back now, he looked groggily up at the emerald Poleepkwa, curious at the large heaving pants coming from the other, as if the emerald Prawn had run a few marathons himself.
Internally, Christopher was struggling with the urge to take the gorgeous ebony hybrid where he lay. But it was not his place. He was solely a guardian to the Prawn. Nothing more, nothing less. So while his own member strained painfully within its confines, he didn't instigate anything further.
Instead, he stated gruffly, "You, Wikus Van de Merwe, are more trouble than I thought. Where are Travis and Curtis?"
"Eh, I ditched 'em." Wikus replied sheepishly, trying to rise shakily to his feet.
"Not a smart move, Wikus." Christopher clicked in a berating tone, offering a hand up as he stood smoothly, "Are you feeling better?"
"Much." Wikus nodded, taking the hand. He was pulled faster than he was prepared for, and ended up stumbling clumsily into the dominant's arms. Christopher easily caught and steadied him. Though strangely enough, the embrace, though accidental, seemed more intimate than what had transpired seconds ago.
That stare was hard. Assessing. Calculating.
Had things changed between them?
Was this a bad thing?
Wikus didn't know.
All he knew was he could not breath until Christopher finally looked away, releasing him a few moments later.