Sexy Space Babes: Chapter Sixty Three (Patreon)

“I never thought I’d say this, but can you hurry up?” Yaro not quite whimpered.

Jason simply smiled as he continued to thrust into her, both hands sneaking up the woman’s top to squeeze and the generous breasts contained within, drawing a surprised gasp from the Rakiri.

While the regiment had departed the ship last night, the Gentle River was carrying more than just combat elements. It also carried supplies for the two regiments that were already on Raknos-Three.

The unloading of which was a far more sedate affair than the offloading of the regiment itself. Which meant that a day and a half later, the final boxes full of valuable supplies were only just now being carted down the ship’s loading ramp. An act, which once complete, would finally allow the Gentle River to move on to its next destination.

Of course, Jason and Yaro were taking advantage of the relative privacy provided by a nearly empty ship to blow off some steam.

Not particularly professional, he could admit, but it wasn’t like he was needed for anything else at the minute. The troops were too busy getting ready for their first operation to cause trouble and the officers were knee deep in a planning session. A session to which he was surplus to requirement.

Hurry up and wait was in full effect where he was concerned.

“This was your idea!” he grunted as he pressed his lover against the bulkhead wall.

“I know,” Yaro gasped heatedly, “but…”

Even if she didn’t finish the sentence, Jason knew exactly what she was thinking – or perhaps feeling was more apt. To tell the truth, he felt a little guilty about goofing off himself.

Which ironically, just made the sex better.

A sentiment Yaro also seemed equally guilty of and enthused by, given the rivulets of excitement that were running down her thighs.

Of course, even if the sex was amazing, Yaro had a point. This was supposed to be a quickie where they’d have their fun and be done before anyone noticed they were even gone.

To that end, he sped up his thrusting knowing that his release wasn’t far off at all. After a week on a crowded ship without a moment of privacy, he was feeling more than just a little pent up.

Yaro let out a muffled yowl at the increased stimulation, but gamely held on, jelly legs shaking just a little.

“Nearly there,” he grunted into the alien’s ear.

Of course, that was the moment someone chose to interrupt.

The sound of a door opening was followed immediately by the unmistakable sound of Nora’s accented voice. “Champion, are you-”

The Scandinavian woman froze in the doorway, blue eyes going wide as she happened upon the pair of them mid… coitus.

Of course, despite the surprise in Jason’s own mind, his body was working on entirely different imperatives. If anything, the sudden interruption was seen as a signal to, well, launch. A sudden interruption might well be the sudden attack of a predator, and given that possibility, it was a biological imperative that he take this opportunity to let his genetic lineage live on.

Never mind the fact that cross-species fertilization between a Rakiri and a human was quite impossible – and the fact that in his sudden surprise, Jason had taken a step back, literally unsheathing himself from his vocally disappointed lover, who uncharacteristically was a bit slower in noticing that their little lovefest had been interrupted by a not entirely unexpected visitor.

Of course, this had a rather unfortunate outcome.

Normally, Jason was rather proud of his… well… potency. And after a week without release, he was a little more loaded for bear than usual.

Which meant a small cascade of events happened. Nora opened the door. Froze. Jason stepped back. Turned towards her. Froze. Yaro noticed nothing, beyond the sudden absence of something she’d been quite enjoying. Jason’s lizard hindbrain decided that now was the ideal moment to fire his genetic data into the void - with all the power it could muster.

In different circumstances, being a man and prone to all the male proclivities for shows of masculinity, Jason might have been rather proud of the hang time his juices got as they jetted across the room. As it was, he could only watch in horror as streams of his jism flew toward Nora’s shocked face with all the malicious intent of a kamikaze Zero Fighter.

Fortunately, physics still had a role to play so, impressive or not, his wad didn’t quite have the power to actually hit her in the face. No, being fairly un-aerodynamic – as most liquids tend to be – it floundered at its apex, losing some momentum.

Not all of it though. Not even close.

Which was why Jason could only watch on in horror as his pearly white jizz landed with a surprisingly loud splat on Nora’s unmoving black boot, creating a rather striking tableau in contrast.

Time stood still.

Silence reigned, broken only by the sound of Yaro’s labored panting.

“Jason,” Nora said slowly, eyes determinedly focused on his own and not on her sullied boot. “Friska is looking for you.”

Her bit said, the woman left, not quite slamming the door behind her, but still using just a little more force than was strictly required.

Seconds passed before Jason realized he still needed to breathe and he breathed in a coughing flustered breath. Need for oxygen sated, he turned to Yaro, who finally seemed to have caught up with what had just happened and looked as mortified as he did. Or at least, the Rakiri equivalent of such, which meant that she looked normal, but her ears were just slightly slanted at a particular angle.

“I think we should get dressed.” He spoke slowly. “And go see what the Captain needs.”

“Yes. That sounds ideal.”

Their bit said, both of them started getting dressed in relative silence, while Jason tried to ignore the most powerful case of post orgasmic guilt he’d ever felt.

…Now if only he could convince himself it wasn’t worth it.

----------

“So you two are…” Nora asked as the awkward trio trudged across the rain slick grounds of the Imperial Landing base.

Which was easier going than one might expect. Given the near constant torrential downpour that the continent suffered, Jason had been expecting to deal with a constant deluge of mud getting underfoot at all hours. Fortunately for him – and the regiment as a whole – Raknos-Three didn’t have much in the way of mud. No, most of the planets above ground surface area was little more than bedrock. Which posed its own challenges, having been worn smooth by who knew how many thousands of years of erosion, but it was still ultimately a step up from slick mud.

“We are.” he said, forcibly drawing himself back to the topic at hand.

The Scandinavian woman said nothing in response, lapsing into silence. Though, perhaps Jason was projecting, but the slump of her shoulders didn’t exactly seem… approving.

Though given that she just walked in on the pair of us banging each other’s brains out on the clock, I can’t really blame her for it, he thought wryly.

And yet, he still couldn’t quite bring himself to regret it.

“You guys didn’t give any indication you were together on the trip over.” Nora finally murmured.

Jason snorted. “I do have some self-control. We could hold it in for a week.”

Behind him, Yaro nodded in agreement, though he couldn’t help but note that it was slightly more sheepish than assertive. The skeptical glance Nora shot both of them in response told him exactly what she thought of that assertion.

Well be that way then, he thought. He and Yaro really had done nothing on the trip over. Which he liked to think put him ahead of most of the Marines in the Terran First.

He’d long since stopped keeping count of the number of times he wandered into an out of the way alcove, only to discover a pair of ornery Marines getting busy.  And that had only been in the first two days. The number – and brazenness – of those couplings had only increased once it became clear that the Shil didn’t care.

Just like back in basic, to their mind that was just the norm. Sex was just another form of stress relief to them.

Which was all well and good, but Jason had a feeling they’d have already lost a good chunk of the regiment to pregnancies if it weren’t for the fact that the Shil mandated that all women serving in the military receive a birth-control implant at the start of training. Something he had a feeling a lot of women might have had issue with – he knew he’d have been a bit wary about being effectively sterilized, even if it was temporary – but most of the female Marines he’d spoken to were just glad to be rid of the pains inherent in their menstrual cycle.

“Hmmm,” Nora said finally, just a hint of teasing in her tone. “Though apparently not for a day longer than a week.”

Jason said nothing in response, instead he thankfully stepped into Friska’s command tent, glad to be away from the Scandinavian woman’s recriminations. Though if he was totally honest, he didn’t even know why he was letting her get to him.

I mean, really, what we were doing was little different from a pair of soldiers skiving off for a smoke, he thought. Better even, given that, from a certain angle, we were engaging in exercise.

Something he was almost entirely sure some Shil’vati officer had put to writing in an attempt to justify mandatory sex for military personnel as a replacement for conventional PT.

The tent was full of people. Friska sat behind a small desk while a small gathering of Shil and Rakiri Lieutenants stood in front of her. All the commanders of her various tank ‘platoons’. That wasn’t unusual. What was odd was that each officer was accompanied by a human tanker. Dobry was in attendance, though if he noticed Jason’s entrance, the former-Major gave no indication of it.

Part of him had always thought that Friska was exaggerating when she said she was allowing the former tankers to advise her on how best to use the machines, but this display had him wondering if perhaps he hadn’t been giving the alien woman enough credit.

The woman in question perked up as she noticed his presence, gregariously waving him forward.

“And here’s our Champion now.” She grinned. “I had that girl of yours call for you because I knew you’d be pouting for days if I left you out of this.”

“Out of what, ma’am?” Jason asked, feeling just a little self-conscious as every eye in the room turned on him.

“Why, our regiment’s first engagement, of course.” Jason felt his stomach drop, even as Friska slammed a hand down on the table. “Our fellow regiments' refusal to move beyond the ‘safety’ of the drop zone might be an affront to Imperial honor, but in this case it works out for us.”

She gestured to the holographic display in front of her where a number of friendly blue tokens were gathered within a circle that had been labeled as ‘Drop Zone.’ Outside of that were a number of yellow icons that he knew represented likely enemy locations based on last contact. They were a mixture of squares and triangles, which he knew were infantry and exo-equivalents respectively. What really drew his eye though was the large circular yellow icon that stood mere kilometers from the Imperial base.

“Is that a base?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Friska nodded. “Yes it is. Right on our doorstep thanks to the meekness of our allies.”

“Couldn’t we just blast it from orbit?”

It was still technically possible to shoot through the storm, the issue lay in being able to communicate targeting data to a ship in orbit once you were outside the eye. Signals struggled to push through all the ionization in high orbit.

An issue that none of them were suffering from right here at the landing area.

“We would and did.” Friska shrugged. “Unfortunately, it’s not there anymore. Roaches might be Roaches, but they aren’t stupid. They move it around. We know it’s in the same general area, but not with enough accuracy to call in orbital fire.” She grinned. “Which is why we’re going to do this the old fashioned way.”

Abruptly, the Captain stood up and marched out of the tent, forcing all those inside to follow after her.

If the constant drizzle of rain bothered her in any way, Friska didn’t show it as she stared out across the base. If anything, she seemed invigorated by it. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the small crowd of her subordinates that had followed her out.

“Listen up ladies – and gentlemen - these pirates have spent the last month tangling with Imperial regiments. So even if they know we’ve arrived, I doubt they’ll be expecting anything different from us than they’ve gotten from our predecessors. Fortunately for us, we are far from typical. Because I sincerely doubt they’ll be expecting this.”

She gestured to the fairly large area that had been set aside for the regiment's vehicles, front and center of which stood the gargantuan tanks of the Terran First. Not one of them was uniform. The tankers might not have had a lot of time on the week-long trip over, but they’d put what they had to good use. Camo netting, secondary weapon systems, chaff launchers and all manner of other small ‘improvements’ were scattered across the vehicles. And as a small final note, as if to drive home that the vehicles were now in human hands, each tank now had a name emblazoned across the barrel.

Adrenaline rush, Jason mused as he glanced at the nearest example. Well, I suppose it’s apt. Though I doubt any of our Shil friends have any idea what it means.

Ignorant of his musings, Friska continued. “I know I wouldn’t. What person would? Tanks haven’t been part of Imperial mainline combat doctrine since before the days of the Fourth Unification War.”

A statement which only served to remind Jason where he was and what he was about to do.

Now, while he’d never quite put in these words, he’d long since figured out that he was essentially some bastard mix of political officer and company chaplain. Which, he wasn’t too proud to admit, was a great improvement over lowly private for one main reason; there’d be no more need for him to risk life and limb in direct combat. Which he figured wasn’t something he needed to be too ashamed to admit. After all, he’d never wanted to enter the military, and while he’d fought on Gurathu, the events there had come about as a result of him engaging in acts of enlightened self-interest more than anything else.

Unfortunately for him, for all that he hoped it would be so, he wouldn’t be watching the war go down from the relative safety of a command vehicle.

“…and I think I can say with some confidence that no one is as excited to finally get to grips with the enemy than our regimental Champion!”

Jason glanced up in surprise, as he realized that Friska had apparently still been talking while he’d been engaged in his little pity party, and now every eyeball present was locked on him.

Well, nothing for it, he thought.

“Tooth and Claw!” he shouted, that being the first thing to pop into his head.

The result cheer was as loud as it was enthusiastic. “Tooth and Claw!”

With that done, everyone split off to go see the final preparations for their platoons.

Relieved, Jason turned to find that Yaro’s tail was wagging frantically, a wolfish smile on her face. Glancing out further, he could see tankers clambering over their rain slick vehicles, whooping and hollering as they did. Watching it all from a distance, Friska was grinning up a storm. Even Nora was sporting a smile.

Dear god, I’m surrounded by warriors, Jason thought. Or to put it another way, I’m surrounded by nut jobs.

And he was going into battle with them.

----

Of course, hurry up and wait, applied. The constant wind and rain meant that high flying drones weren’t an option, so the company was waiting for reports back from ground base forward scouting elements before making a move.

Despite that, he had a feeling from listening into sporadic comm chatter that most of the tankers and a fair few of the boots from 3rd Company - who were loaded up in APC’s alongside them - wanted to move now.

Unfortunately for them, the doctrine of the Imperial Marines was primarily that of a scouting force. And for all that Cleff seemed to want to shake things up, she still held certain holdovers from tradition.

Which, to be honest, Jason didn’t have an issue with, regardless of what some ornery tankers might have to say about losing the element of surprise. He’d be more worried if the woman threw caution to the wind and decided to just make shit up as she went along.

Of course, all those thoughts were secondary to something else he’d noticed.

They were sitting inside Puta’s command APC waiting for the order to move and Yaro kept… twitching. At very specific intervals.

“Yaro, are you afraid of lightning?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Sure, the sound was incredibly muffled from within the confines of their APC, but you could still hear it. And if he could hear it with his human ears, Yaro definitely could.

“Perhaps.” the woman in question allowed, as she languidly tuned in her harness toward him. He had a feeling, that if the Rakiri were capable of setting things alight with their eyes, he’d have been burned to ash in an instant, given the deadpan look his lover gave him. “Lightning?” The white furred Rakiri continued. “Random jolts of lethal amounts of electricity that hit the ground - at random - with the force of an angry goddess? No, why would I be concerned about that?”

As she spoke, Jason realized this was perhaps the first time he’d ever heard her be sarcastic. Hell, he didn’t even know she could be sarcastic.

“I take it you didn’t get storms often on Gurathu?” he asked delicately.

She chuffed. “Not often. Nor did we fight battles in them.”

It seemed her earlier excitement had been considerably quashed by the weather conditions just outside the Imperial landing zone.

“Well you better get used to it white-fur,” Puta’s voice rang out, the other Rakiri unknowingly echoing Jason’s own thoughts. “We’ve finally got the all clear to move.”