Prometheus Kinktober Day 8 - The Last Engineer
The Last Engineer x Reader - Sex Pollen Wordcount: 2,5k Warnings: Sex pollen, Size difference, Enemies to lovers? At least Enemies to bonded mates against their will lol. Shrooms.
Running through the dark, curved halls, your lungs burned as if they might burst – everything had gone to pot. Half the scientists were already dead, torn apart by unknown horrors, and now the so-called god that had been awoken was on a rampage.
The mission’s android, David, had spoken to the Engineer, and in his fury the giant had ripped off his head, crushed Peter Weyland’s skull with it in a single blow, and dispatched Ford and the mercenaries as if they were nothing – a casual shove to the chest, a swing of his arm, sending bodies crashing against the walls like ragdolls.
Dr. Shaw had fled before you could even move. You had been rooted to the ground, paralysed by terror, staring up at the bloodthirsty giant with wide eyes – and his abyssal gaze had locked with yours, cutting straight through to your soul.
The sound of Ford’s ribs breaking still rang in your ears, nearly drowning beneath the thunder of your heartbeat.
He was coming, the creature was coming, right behind you.
At last, when he was way too close, the paralysis broke. You turned and ran, feet hammering against the floor as fast as your body would carry you in your panic.
But you knew it was in vain.
He had already tasted blood, and he would not stop until he had you.
What had humanity done to deserve such hatred?
Bolting into an unfamiliar chamber, you realised far too late what you had run into. Not that you really knew in the first place.
Rows upon rows of dark-purple mushrooms sprouted from the floor, climbing up the walls, their clustered heads thick as a forest.
A scream ripped from your throat as the deep rumble of the Engineer’s breath closed in behind you. Damn it-!
Blind with panic, your feet tangled beneath you, and you stumbled forward, landing headfirst into the midnight coloured caps, arms barely breaking the fall.
Rolling onto your back, heart hammering, you looked up at your persecutor - only to still and marvel at the sight before you: from the crushed mushrooms rose a cloud of amber motes, drifting into the air around you.
They swirled weightlessly, shimmering like fireflies you had once watched on summer nights from the porch of your home.
Mesmerised by their dance, you forgot yourself - until they brushed against your skin. Where they touched, they melted into you, leaving faint trails of gold that glimmered for a heartbeat before sinking deeper.
They looked more benign than the black veins that had crawled through Holloway’s body, or the grotesque mutations that had malformed Millburn and Fifield… but nothing on this cursed moon had been kind so far.
Terror squeezed your heart, perhaps being killed outright by the vengeful god above you would be more merciful than whatever this was.
At last, you dared to look at him and froze - he had followed too closely, too blind in his pursuit of you. Now the spores clung to him as well.
Golden freckles bloomed across his ivory skin, scattering across his face, the bared parts of his throat, the vast span of his hands and wrists.
Snapping out of your wonder, you desperately rubbed at your arms, your throat, trying to wipe the shimmer away, but the gold had already vanished beneath your skin, leaving only a maddening tingling in its wake.
There was an old tradition - you remembered it dimly - of broken pottery repaired with powdered gold, cracks turned whole again.
That was what he reminded you of now: A piece of art. A very displeased-looking piece of art.
For one terrifying moment, you pictured those fingers closing around your throat - snapping it, breaking you - and at the thought, an involuntary moan slipped from your lips. Humiliation seared through you. He wanted to kill you! And your body betrayed you by quivering at the fantasy of it…
Above you, the Engineer loomed, every line of his marble-carved face filled with rage. Your lungs clawed for air, involuntarily inhaling the dust - and to your shock, fear was not the only thing pulsing through you now.
Heat began to pool low in your belly, strange and searing - what the fuck was happening to you?
And apparently not just to you.
The giant’s breath rasped, uneven and heavy, his gaze lingering on the honeyed spores clinging to his arms. His massive hands flexed and clenched, as if he could crush the rising need out of his own flesh.
The sound drew his eyes to yours, and they appeared even darker than before, bottomless, as if you could drown in them.
Something new flickered in them - not wrath, not anymore. Irritation, vexation, a hunger he seemed just as powerless to suppress.
Every breath dragged more of it inside, fanning the fire higher, until fear and need tangled into one. Through half-lidded eyes, you caught the way the Engineer’s nostrils flared, the way his gaze prowled over your body with reluctant desire.
A guttural, deep sigh tore from his chest, vibrating through the cavernous room. Immediate, unbidden, the sound raked down your spine and straight into the ache between your thighs.
You gasped, clamping them together as if that would ease it, but the heat only spread, devouring - it was so sharp you fell backwards, again disturbing the carpet of fungi. Amber spores burst around you, whirling slowly like snowfall in still air.
Hastily, you were lifted from the ground - thankfully not by your throat, no, his large hands had clamped around your hips, hauling you against his chest, face to face with the very thing that meant to end you. Up this close, his lips - pale with a violet hue - hovered a breath away from yours. And gods help you, you had to fight the feral urge to close that distance and find out what he tasted like. Did Engineers kiss?
Before you could think further, he hoisted you higher, pressing you against him until your face brushed his neck - you could see the dark veins beneath his skin, not sickly like Holloway’s had been, but natural, pulsing. Was his blood truly black? And was that another violet flush staining his cheeks?
With another growl - rumbling, delicious - that rocked like waves through your body, he strode through the curved corridors, leaving the hall of shrooms behind.
You felt so tiny in his arms, every step jolting you closer against the warmth of his flesh.
You should have fought him, should have screamed, should have pounded your fists against him, demanded to know where he was taking you, but the spores - motes, whatever this was - turned your thoughts to a careless mush.
So instead, your lips brushed the smooth expanse of skin above where his biomechanical suit ended, tasting foreign smooth flesh, trailing up to lick along a dark vein behind his ear.
The sound that he made was frustrated, feral, laced with reluctance and need - but he gave in, moving his hands to the shell-like armour at his chest - a mechanism clicked and the suit split apart, peeling away to reveal a body sculptured like an Olympian god - veins of indigo ink rippling across pale muscle, his form both otherworldly terrifying and celestial beauty. His broad shoulders and the strong arms that had killed your companions with a single blow lay bare; his stomach ridged like carved stone - alien, and currently irresistible.
Startled, he froze for a heartbeat, then quickened his pace, carrying you into a chamber you had not seen before. You barely registered the strange architecture around you - only that he tossed you onto a soft surface that yielded beneath your palms and spine. A bed? Something like it. Not that it mattered.
What mattered was the harsh scrape of your nipples against the compression suit, the heat slicking your thighs, and the way the Engineer towered above you with a heaving chest.
He motioned sharply for you to do the same, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if you would have preferred the roughness of him ripping the unwelcome fabric off of you; the thought alone made a chuckle slip from your throat - too husky, too seductive. Gods, were you really about to have sex with the being who had slaughtered your crew? And did you really not care enough to fight against it?
The next wave of heat silenced every doubt - fire poured through your veins, and you tugged desperately at the fastenings of your suit, stripping it from your feverish skin.
Piece by piece, barrier by barrier, the distance between your flesh and his vanished. And when you were finally bare, you found yourself unsteady on your knees, staring at him, drinking in every detail. You needed to touch him.
Stumbling forward like a newborn fawn, you were too weak to hold yourself up and he caught you, his enormous hands wrapping around your arms, not gentle, not cruel, simply firm. He rumbled something in his tongue - words rolling like thunder, sadly incomprehensible, but nonetheless utterly intoxicating.
Breathless, pupils blown wide, you tilted your head to the side. “Whatever you say.”
Your gaze dropped to the straining bulge in his smallclothes. Oh. A tent. A very massive tent. Could this possibly fit? The thought should have terrified you, but the lust roaring through your body was louder. You would somehow make it fit.
He shoved you back onto the mattress, the surface sagging under his massive frame as he caged you in, his obsidian eyes sweeping over you, taking you in with the same relentless hunger you felt towards him.
He had never seen a human like this - skin flushed, nipples peaked, thighs trembling and slick with need. Compared to him, you were prey, and yet something softer lingered in his gaze, fascination sparking as a single finger traced the blush of your collarbone.
The explorative pause was only a brief one; a moment later, his hands tore away his underclothes with a harsh tug, and your breath caught at the sight - he was enormous, thicker and heavier than anything you had imagined or experienced before.
Your walls clenched in both warning and anticipation. Could this really fit? It had to, you needed it to. You needed him.
The pressure burned - exquisite, unbearable, divine.
Seemingly seeing your torn expression, he pressed his broad palm flat to your belly, pinning you down as his other hand slid between your thighs.
With a thoughtful hum, his thick fingers, smooth but mighty, pried you open.
Not too gentle, but not cruel either - he tested, stretched, pressed into the slick heat spilling from you, feeling your depths until a broken cry slipped from your lips.
Pain laced with pleasure - and he answered with a low purr, entranced by the way your body struggled to take him in, but still managed to suck him in deeper.
One finger, then two. Too much - and yet, the aphrodisiac and need made you buck against him, urging for more, nearly riding his hand.
Curious, his thumb brushed over your swollen bud, and stars burst behind your eyes. He paused as if to memorise your gasp and reaction, the way your body shuddered, before pressing deeper, curling, rubbing, preparing you for the size of him, coaxing high sounds from your lips.
When he decided that this was enough and pulled his fingers free, he dragged them over the thick, darkened head of his cock, slicking them up with your juices.
His gaze never left you as he positioned himself, caging you, watching as his heavy weight pressed against your entrance, head slowly parting your fold.
You trembled, but still clung to him, arms winding around his broad neck as you searched his eyes - only now noticing the faint difference in colour, pupils darker than the rest. At your timid nod, he pushed, splitting you open around his girth.
So full, so overstuffed - it felt glorious.
The stretch was brutal, impossibly so - he was enormous, and the deep groan that rolled through his chest vibrated straight to your core.
Inch by inch, he pressed forward, your hips tilting up instinctively, begging for more, demanding him to give you everything he had.
Your whimpers, your watery eyes - it drove him to push deeper, patient and unrelenting, stretching you wider than you ever imagined. He was careful not to harm until at last, with one final deep thrust, he filled you completely.
A shudder coursed through his massive frame; he was not unaffected at all. Where he was huge, you were impossibly tight.
One of his hands cupped your throat, not squeezing - just holding, his thumb brushing your jaw while he braced the other beside your head.
Pulling back agonisingly slow, you whimpered at the loss of him before he drove forward, burying himself as deep as your bodies allowed.
For a moment he slowed, concentrating on the movement of your lips, ardently plundering your mouth before his thrusts came harsher, your clenching heat reminding him that you both desperately needed to fall over the edge.
The impact sent you arching, walls spasming - again and again. Each thrust rocked you open, deeper, harder, until the chamber itself seemed to shake with the sound of his hips slamming against your bottom, and your cries echoing through them.
You could not think, could not breathe, only feel.
Desperate to stifle your cries, you finally drew his mouth down to yours, whimpering as his teeth grazed your lower lip - he answered with a low, possessive growl as if to say that every sound you made belonged to him now.
Engineers did, in fact, kiss.
Each push wrung a moan from you, muffled against his mouth til he tore away, dragging his lips along your cheek, along your ear - guttural words spilling from him, unintelligible and raw against the skin of your neck. Turning your head, you pressed open-mouthed kisses against his cheekbone, desperate to answer him in the only way you could.
His massive hand drifted down from your throat, cupping your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh, teasingly flicking over your nipple, drawing a sharp whine from your throat that made his rhythm stutter.
Under that endless, consuming gaze, you broke apart. Your vision went white, your body trembled - dragging him with you, milking him with every pulsing contraction.
A guttural moan tore from his chest as he drove himself to the hilt, spilling into you - thick, scorching, filling.
You felt born anew, exhausted yet unbearably comfortable, full of the god’s seed and his still half-hard cock. The fire ebbed away, smaller with every second of release.
When his breath steadied, he did not withdraw.
Instead, his hand returned to your cheek, cupping it - his fascination sharpened into something more dangerous, more certain.
Perhaps the mushrooms still whispered in your blood when you leaned into his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, sealing a bond neither of you had chosen.
He had just lain with you. He could not kill you now.
You were his, and it didn’t matter if you two wanted this or not.