Hi! If requests are still open, could I get a body-conscious male alien with a caring fem reader? Maybe they serve on a spaceship together? Any rating is fine, lemon would be fun if you’re up for it ^^ thanks!!
It's finally here!! I'm sorry I took so long to get to your request, but I ended up getting carried away, so I hope the extra length sweetens the deal a bit! Personally, I loved the idea of serving on a spaceship with an alien the minute I got the request so I hope you love the result!
Body-Conscious Male!Alien x Caring Fem!Reader - Lemon Content: Straight-up smut, a handjob, brief reference to alien body-shaming
“Wait,” Ghavrul said, leaning over to look at you from the top bunk, “humans don’t gender segregate?”
“I mean… not usually. A long time ago we did, but nowadays it’s only for pretty hardcore reasons. Like monks and stuff.” By the time you were born, the only symbols outside bathrooms and showers were for Humanoid, Insectoid, Polypedal, among others.
“Wow. That’s different. Very different.” Ghavrul’s eye, large and luminescing teal in the dim bunkroom, widened before he used his two right arms to roll onto his back. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a female of my species, anyway.”
“Never?” you asked incredulously. “Seriously, Blueberry; not your mom, or maybe a sister?”
“Especially not my mom and my sisters.”
“You’re going to need to explain that to me,” you said, prompting a sigh from him. “You don’t have to, if…”
“No, it’s fine. It’s nothing, really.” Ghavrul paused, the thin mattress squeaking as he shifted. “My species is very dimorphic: the females look almost nothing like the males. I’m humanoid, big, round, and… well, I’m big and round. The females are thin, stick-like, insectoid, and very sharp. For the first few days after being born, they also try to murder anything they see, including their clutch mate siblings. And because they’re so sharp, they break out of the eggs first and succeed at the murdering part if you’re a male born with a weak carapace.”
“Wow,” you breathed, not sure what to say.
“It’s not like that anymore, of course. We evolved enough to figure that infant murder was bad and learned to separate the eggs by sex before they hatch. I guess the tradition stuck, though, because you really don’t see the opposite sex until it’s time to find a mate. It doesn’t help that because our dimorphism, males and females have such different needs that we couldn’t really cohabitate even if we wanted to.”
“I see… sort of.” You tried to imagine what that would be like. You imagined a baby Ghavrul, prying himself out of an egg with his stubby trios of fingers. What you couldn’t imagine, though, was an armored carapace on him. In your military platoon of engineers, his shape, color, and softness was what earned him the nickname “Blueberry.”
“So does the carapace fall off? Like, do you molt out of it or something?”
“Ah, well…” he hesitated. He shifted again, prompting squeaks from the mattress. “If I was born in the old days, I wouldn’t have survived my clutch-sisters. I’m naturally without a carapace, which is lucky or unlucky depending on who you ask.”
“What if I ask you?”
“Well… it’s lucky that I was born now, rather than in the past. It’s unlucky that I look this way.” He sighed again.
You frowned. “Look what way? You don’t like being called ‘Blueberry?’”
“No, I don’t mind that. I’ve never seen a blueberry, for the record. It’s just that, well… looking different is why I wanted to join the military and get away from home. Also why I’m in the corps of engineers instead of, you know, fighting, like the rest of us.” He went silent, his voice trailing off with a hint of self-loathing.
“Hmph. And I thought you became an engineer because you were smart and good at math,” you retorted.
“You know what I meant.” He chuckled weakly. “The carapace thing matters a lot. On my homeworld, it was like a whole different life. They raise you differently, look at you differently. They educate you for a different way of living.”
“It sounds like you don’t think they should,” you surmised.
“It’s all just tradition. Being carapace-less isn’t the death sentence it used to be.” He paused. “Crap, I don’t know why I explained that to you. Now I’m just going to feel like you’re judging when you look at me.”
“Judging you for what? We’re all used to calling you Blueberry already,” you said, reassuring him. “I hope you’ve noticed that humans also don’t have carapaces. I’ve never known you any differently.”
“Yeah… you’re right. I guess it’s just a hangup of mine, you know? You don’t really unlearn something like that.” You heard him shift in the bunk above before pulling his blanket around himself. “I’m ready to sleep, anyway.”
“Me too.” You flipped your pillow over and got comfortable. The faint humming of the ship lulled you to sleep like it did every lights-out.
Seven hours later, as the lights gradually came to full strength and awoke you and Ghavrul from your slumber, the two of you tumbled out of your beds. After last night’s conversation, you watched him descend from the top bunk trying to imagine him with an armored shell. It was difficult to envision since he’d basically be a four-armed, blue, cyclopean pangolin in jersey shorts and a tank top. Not to mention he was several counts taller and wider than you.
Your current deployment was a lax one. You and your fellow engineers aboard were essentially there to supervise and look after regular wear-and-tear; compared to your last deployment building an entire space station, this was practically paid time off. It was so lax, in fact, that the first four hours of each 24-hour cycle were completely free. Your commanding officer wouldn’t even muster your troop until lunchtime.
“Before you told me, I thought the lack of segregation was just a military thing, not a human thing.” Ghavrul walked alongside you, his strides double the length of yours.
“You’re still fascinated by that?” You chuckled, pretending you could stay in lock-step with him.
“Hey, I only figured that out yesterday. Let me remind you that I have never seen a female of my species on account of the risk of being disemboweled.”
“Fair enough, then,” you relented. You walked alongside him to your destination: the onboard shower facilities and locker room for humanoid crew. The pair of you stepped through the sliding doors to find the shower stalls and lockers deserted as usual. With such a loose schedule, it was unlikely to see anyone until mustered by a commanding officer. Anyone except for Ghavrul, of course; you two had become fast friends over conversations about the differences in your cultures, and your tendencies to chat meant you usually adhered to the buddy system even when it wasn’t an order. That, and even with his four arms, he usually asked you to wash his back for him.
“I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised. I have trouble telling humans apart sometimes,” he said, opening his locker and tossing his sandals inside.
“Excuse me?” You feigned serious offense before turning to your locker and opening it.
“Hey, all I’ve got to work with is… what, eye color and hair color—which you change sometimes—and height, but you’re all shorter than me anyway.” He chuckled, reaching over his shoulders to remove his tank top, but hesitating. The pause stuck out to you immediately.
“Something wrong?” You asked.
“I… it’s silly.”
“It’s not about the carapace thing, is it?” You asked, causing him to sigh. “Come on, Ghavrul. We’ve seen each other naked more times than I can count. Nothing’s changed about you.”
“It’s a weakness of mine. Maybe not a weakness to you, but a weakness all the same. It’s like OPSEC.”
“It’s not like OPSEC,” you rolled your eyes.
“The point of weakness in a bunker is the same regardless of whether or not the enemy knows about it. It’s still there.”
“Yes, but you’re not a bunker. You’re my comrade—and friend,” you tried to convince him. You were both engineers, but you had to admit that Ghavrul never really turned it off; he saw the world—and himself—as an array of weaknesses and strengths. This was just how he was, but in your months of deployment with him, you had never seen it this severe before.
He sighed again. “Just leave it,” he pleaded, before turning away. Past the lockers were the shower stalls, and past those was the more open shower room you both usually used. Unusually, he opted for one of the stalls.
You agreed to stop trying and instead finished undressing. He did the same but inside the stall. You saw his thick blue hands peek out the top of the stall as he stowed his clothes on the shelf above the showerhead. You walked past and started to shower in silence, which you hadn’t done in a while.
The warmth of the water was always welcome; military bunks were never comfortable enough to prevent knots from forming in your muscles. Even on a top-of-the-line vessel like this one, they still skimped on the bedding.
“Hey, don’t you think—” you paused, about to remark on that, remembering Ghavrul wasn’t next to you like usual. Sighing, you gave up on that train of thought and reached for the soap.
“What?” He asked from his stall, having heard your attempt to chat.
“Oh, nothing… I was just gonna say something about how the ships we serve on get bigger and faster but the beds never get any better.”
He let out a subdued chuckle. “That’s the truth.”
“Just imagine how much worse it would be with a c—” You stopped speaking again, silently cursing yourself. He didn’t want you to bring up the carapace thing, and five seconds later you’re back to it. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He sighed, pausing. You could hear his wet footsteps in his shower stall as he turned and stuck his head out the curtain. “I… can’t reach.”
“Your back?”
“My back.” He nodded sheepishly. “I’ll come out.”
“No, actually,” You smiled, “I’ll join you. If that’s alright.”
“There’s only one…”
“I know,” you cut him off.
The realization came over him and made his eye widen. With so many attractive, smart engineers living in close proximity for long deployments, flings happened all the time. This had to happen between you two eventually, right? You figured it was a good time for it; if anything would get him out of his head, it would be this.
“Uh… yeah. Come in.” He pulled the shower curtain aside and you closed the distance, stepping over the threshold and closing the curtain behind you. The stalls had to be generously sized to accommodate the diverse range of species aboard, yet it was still a bit tight as you shared this one with Ghavrul. With mere inches between your bodies and warm water cascading down both of you, you looked up and smiled at him.
“Could you tell me some other things about your anatomy?” You said, reversing your gaze and looking downwards.
“Um… our females lay eggs, so we just sorta…” One of his left hands rubbed the back of his neck, the other left hand wringing his wrist.
“Hmm?”
“…you know, stimulate it. With our hands. Until… external fertilization.”
You chuckled. “You’re great at talking dirty, you know that?”
“I’m an engineer.” The faint beginnings of a grin formed on his face. “Picking up on your sarcasm is all you get.”
You smiled back, then looked down to see what you were working with. Below his large, round tummy and between his tree-trunk thighs was the familiar appendage you had seen so much before. It was similar enough to the human anatomy you knew that frankly, it didn’t really arouse you much in the past. Now, a breath’s distance away in a cramped shower stall, things were a bit different.
“May I?” You said, looking straight at his cock. Though mostly due to his bodily proportions, the fact that its tip nearly reached his knees made for a striking visual.
He cleared his throat. “Um, go ahead.”
You reached forward, resting one hand on his belly and the other at the base of his length. His skin was soft, almost velvety, and as you gently encircled him with your hand, you felt the density and weight of his cock. It was like grabbing your own forearm but soft and spongy in a lovely way. His whole body reacted, tensing up as you did.
“Wow, that’s different,” he gasped, “I figured hands are hands—and I’ve got four—but…”
“It’s different when it’s someone else?”
“…yeah.”
Smiling, you began gently running your hand up and down the length of him, your palm lightly rubbing into his supple skin. His breathing hitched, then became deep and rumbling. You could feel his heartbeat in his cock as it gradually began to stir, coming awake in your hands.
“Oh…” he groaned, reaching up and behind him to grip to top of the stall wall, knuckles whitening.
“Everything okay?”
“More than you know,” he huffed. He had fully hardened by now, and even with your back pressed against the tiles, the end of his cock nearly poked you in the belly.
With both hands, you wrapped around him and firmly started massaging his length, stroking back and forth between you. You leaned forward to reach his base, bringing you close enough to feel his desperate breathing on your neck.
“You know, Blueberry,” you breathed, “Lieutenant Colonel probably wants us at muster soon…”
“Ngh—damn, you’re right,” he groaned again, his hips rolling.
“Mind if I speed things up?”
He nodded. In earnest now, you pumped his cock with your hands, its tip aimed squarely at your middle—not like in the cramped confines it had anywhere else to go. Except… somewhere that could wait. You’d have to be standing up straight at muster, after all.
You worked up a bit of a sweat as you worked his cock with both hands. It was much more involved than touching yourself—and just as fun. Each completed stroke made him rut into your hands, his body acting on its own as your touch melted away the engineer and revealed something more primal. Your heart raced; not only from the physical exertion but also from seeing your soft-spoken, neurotic bunkmate panting and bucking with his trembling length in your hands.
He gasped, trailed by a low groan that rumbled the whole stall. “Close,” he managed through gritted teeth. “There’s—uh—”
“Shh.” You only increased the pace.
“There’s gonna be a lot.” His eye clamped shut. He arched his back, facing the ceiling and rumbling.
“We’re in a shower, Blueberry.” You normally would have added a bit more snark, but it was time to focus. You assumed the head of his cock was more sensitive and shifted your focus there, working the ridge near the end of his shaft. It paid off. His low rumble instantly changed to a higher whine. His hips jerked desperately, and the alien who normally apologized for so much as breathing on you repeatedly jabbed your tummy with the end of his cock.
For a moment, he seemed to freeze; then he ground his cockhead against you. His whines crescendoed. Each urgent thrust came with an eruption of impossibly hot ropes of stickiness. Your hands continued coaxing each one out of him, slowing in time with his breath as he caught it. The smile on your face eventually spread to his; you were happy to help him out in what you both knew was a stressful career.
That, and the fact that alien bodily fluids were always a gamble, and nothing about it was unpleasant. A blessing considering how much of it you were coated in from the waist down.
“I… Wow.” He finally made eye contact again, his large eye half-lidded. His chest still heaved in time with slow, deep breaths. You unhanded him gently, letting his deflating cock return to hanging between his thighs.
“Feel better?”
“Much better.” He smiled back at you thankfully before looking down between you. “Uh… sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“External fertilization is like that,” he muttered sheepishly, a sentence you had never expected to sound even a little bit endearing.
“There’s the engineer coming back,” you joked. “I’ll wash your back and you’ll wash… all of this?” You looked down, the shower’s spray doing little to clean you off.
“Deal.”
