Based on Destiny, © Bungie 2014.

This work was made possible by the generous support of my Patrons:

https://www.patreon.com/Snekguy

Disclaimer: This work of erotic fiction is intended for adults only. The story contains the following themes: Destiny, Ahamkara, size difference, transformation, shape-shifting, tentacles, light bondage, femdom, scales, kissing, oral, long tongue, vaginal, voyeurism.

"This place is crawling with Taken," Lumia muttered, her angular shell spinning around her spherical core in an expression of displeasure. Ever since they had breached the towering walls of the Dreaming City, she hadn't given the Guardian a moment of peace, her complaints echoing through the crystalline caverns that wound their way beneath its foundations.

"Taken, I can deal with," he replied, giving the rifle that he was carrying an affectionate tap.

"And do you think that Bray tech is going to protect you from an Ahamkara?" the softball-sized drone snapped, turning her single eye in his direction as she floated along beside his helmeted head. He was clad in a suit of combat armor painted in shades of red and white, adorned with the regalia of his order, his full-faced visor obscuring his features. "It's a Wish Dragon, Guardian. The last of its ilk. Against something that powerful, I don't even know if my light will be enough to bring you back..."

"You worry too much," he muttered, his eyes scanning the tunnel ahead. It was carved from what looked like a giant geode of purple amethyst crystals, the glow from Lumia's flashlight refracting off the walls to create beautiful patterns that danced across the floor and ceiling. "You said the same thing about that Hive wizard on Titan, and look, we're still here."

"An Ahamkara is not a Hive wizard," she shot back, the interlocking plating of her shell separating again as she glared at him. "I fear that you don't know what you're getting into, that you're only here as part of some foolish bid to catch Mara Sov's eye."

"Mara Sov?" he asked, feigning ignorance. "She opened the city up to the Guardians, she asked us to come here and clean out the Taken. What of it?"

"What of it?" she scoffed, a flutter of irritation passing through her shell. "Combat analysis is my forte, Guardian. I see where you're shooting, I measure your accuracy, I monitor your heart rate. When you're in the presence of the Awoken Queen, your BPM increases, your pupils dilate, and you spend approximately 43% of the time staring at her chest through your visor!"

"She wouldn't dress like that if she didn't want people looking," he muttered under his breath.

"Of all the Guardians I could have resurrected, I had to choose the serial voyeur," she lamented, shaking her hovering form as a person might shake their head. "We can still turn back, you know," she added as she floated in front of him to block his path. He stopped, letting his rifle hang by his side as he waited for her to finish. "We're not so deep that I can't bring the ship into range and transmat you back into a nice, heated cockpit. We can go back to the tower, let off some steam in the Crucible, forget about this whole venture."

"I'm not leaving here without that thing's head," he replied sternly. "You can transmat that back to the ship when we're done."

"You don't even have a fireteam!" she hissed, trailing after him as he pressed deeper into the winding tunnels.

"Why share the loot? Besides, Shaxx killed an Ahamkara on his own back in the day, why shouldn't I? He has its skull hanging over his spot in the tower."

"I once overheard Ikora say that she heard that thing whispering," Lumia added with a shiver. "As though there was still some remnant of magic left in its old bones. That's what they do, you know. They can get inside your head."

"Dead things can't talk."

"Bold words for someone who has been dead more times than I can count," she said, giving him a sideways glance. "Actually, that's a lie, I can absolutely count. I've brought you back approximately 148 times."

“So, what’s the big deal?” he asked as he rounded another corner. “Just make it 149.”

“Don’t trivialize the work I do,” Lumia grumbled. “The Traveler's light has made you paracausal, Guardian. That means that you are no longer bound by the constraints of time. When you die, I scan adjacent timelines for one where you survived, and reconstruct you based on those parameters. But being unable to die doesn't make you immortal. It’s still possible to get yourself into such a bad situation that there are no timelines where you survive, such as...I don’t know, trying to slay an Ahamkara on your own.”

“Stop complaining and figure out where we are, would you?” the Guardian replied. “I feel like I’m getting turned around in here, these crystals all look the same...”

She emitted a series is bleeps and bloops, accessing the map that was stored in her memory, her eye flickering as she scanned through the file.

“The map that Mara gave us is rather...outdated,” she began. “Scratch that, it’s archaic, at least two thousand years old. There could have been cave-ins during that time, the very bedrock of this place could have shifted around us. But...if my calculations are right, and they usually are, we should head this way.”

Lumia nodded in the direction of a side tunnel, the Guardian shouldering his weapon.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

The crystal caves eventually opened up into a grand hall, an enormous, underground chamber whose regal pillars and intricate statues had been carved from deposits of shining amethyst and black marble. Exposed geodes that rivaled the size of buildings glowed with ethereal light, bathing the room in hues of blue and purple.

“Looks like we’re on the right track,” the Guardian said, resting his rifle on his armored shoulder as he turned on the spot to take in the view. “The Awoken didn’t strike me as architects, I can’t imagine one of those prissy bastards chiseling all of this out of solid rock.”

“They didn’t,” Lumia replied, emitting a beam of light from her eye as she scanned their lavish surroundings. “This is the Ahamkara’s doing. They built this city with the aid of its wish magic.”

“So, what? They wish for a city carved from crystal and marble, and the dragon makes it happen, just like that?”

“Not without incurring some terrible price,” Lumia added, spinning her little frame around to face him again. “A wish granted by an Ahamkara is a monkey’s paw, a trap. I don’t even want to imagine what it cost them to wish this place into existence,” she added with a shiver.

“We must be in the basement of the palace, right?” the Guardian asked as he glanced up at the ceiling high above. “Look,” he added, pointing to something that had embedded itself in the rock. It was an orb of seething darkness maybe ten feet across, eating into the very bedrock, seeming to erase the reality that surrounded it. It wasn’t merely an orb, however. It was also a portal, a gateway to some alternate plane of reality, a distorted field of glittering stars glimpsed through its yawning aperture.

“Taken blights,” Lumia hissed, floating a little closer to him. “We’re getting nearer, the ugly little darkspawn will come popping out of those breaches as soon as they sense our presence here.”

“This is why we came in through the tunnels,” the Guardian replied, “there must be a whole army of Taken infesting the halls above us. We sneak into the vault undetected, we get the drop on the Ahamkara, and pow!”

“Pow?” Lumia repeated skeptically. “I hope you don’t expect to just be able to shoot it.”

The Guardian reached behind his back, unsheathing a blade of monstrous proportions, its razor edge cutting into the marble floor as he let it fall like a chitinous guillotine. It was made from what looked like bone, organic matter that had been molded into the shape of a heavy blade, the arcane runes that had been carved along its length glowing an eerie green.

“Took this off a Hive Knight back on Titan,” he explained, admiring his prize as Lumia hovered around it.

“You shouldn’t play around with Hive magic,” she chided. “This one has been honed by the Sword Logic, made sharper with each life that it took. It’s a good job you can’t read those runes, or you’d literally blink out of existence.”

“I think plunging this thing into the dragon’s heart should do the job,” he continued, returning it to its place on his back. Lumia clearly wanted to tell him otherwise, but even she had little idea of what such an artifact would do to a Wish Dragon.

They located a winding staircase of polished stone that led them up, the Guardian’s footsteps echoing as he climbed higher and higher. Everywhere he looked was a statue hewn from purple amethyst or some great pillar of stone carved with intricate reliefs. They passed by great clockwork mechanisms of indeterminate function, as well as underground gardens that overflowed with exotic plants, the Awoken sparing no expense when it came to their capital city.

They finally reached the upper halls of the palace, emerging into a great cathedral of glittering crystal, the rock blending seamlessly with more traditional architecture made from pale stone. Everything was supersized, as though this place had not even been made with humans in mind, the doors so tall that he had to crane his neck to see their gilded arches. There were more blights here, staining the walls like dark ink, yet there had been no sign of any Taken creatures yet. It was odd...

The Guardian heard a voice echo through the cavernous hall, snapping his head around as it whispered to him. It seemed at once intimately close, yet so far away, like a murmur carried on the wind. It was husky, feminine, and oddly familiar.

“You’re finally here, O Guardian, mine.”

“What is it?” Lumia asked, trailing after him as he took a few steps forward.

“Didn’t you hear that?” he asked, Lumia replying with a shake of her chassis. “It sounded like...Mara Sov’s voice.”

“I’d scan your brain for damage, but I don’t think that’s necessary,” Lumia muttered. “The Ahamkara speaks to you, it mimics Sov’s voice. Be cautious, Guardian, the Ahamkara feed on desire.”

“Come,” the disembodied voice continued, filling his head with its dulcet tones. Its voice was comely, playful, as though daring him to press onward. “I would quite like to meet you.”

One of the towering doors at the end of the chamber began to open of its own accord, the immense slabs of polished stone parting to reveal a new path that led deeper into the palace.

“Guess we’re supposed to go that way,” he muttered, his footsteps echoing off the marble floor as he began to walk.

“Maybe you really do have brain damage,” Lumia said, floating ahead of him as he marched along. “We’ve lost the element of surprise, that thing knows we’re here! We need to pull back and regroup, if nothing else.”

“I got this,” the Guardian replied sternly, Lumia rolling her glowing eye.

They made their way through a series of rooms and passages, each one stranger than the last. One of them contained what looked like a giant planetarium, a huge sphere of bronze surrounded by floating rings upon which smaller spheres orbited. Based on the strange symbols on the walls, Lumia surmised that it was a lock, some kind of mechanism designed to prevent the vault from being opened. For some unknown reason, the Ahamkara was opening the way for them.

They emerged into another massive chamber, this one circular in shape, so shrouded in darkness that the Guardian could scarcely see a few feet in front of him. Lumia turned on her flashlight, the beam emerging from her eye in a tight cone as she scanned the room. More marble, more amethyst crystals, the floor covered in interlocking ring patterns. There were plants, too, gnarled trees rising from planters at the foot of the wall. In the center of the room was a large, circular pit, one that the Guardian couldn’t see the bottom of when he leaned over the edge.

“There are other doors that lead out of this room,” Lumia said, checking her map again. “They’re all closed. Are you sure this is the way?”

“You are so small,” that strange voice said, echoing through his skull. The Guardian shouldered his weapon, scanning the darkness through its scope, but seeing nothing. Lumia bathed their surroundings in the pale glow of her flashlight, guessing what he was hearing, and knowing better than to interrupt. “Despite your size, you continue to make enemies of so many Gods and monsters. What desire drives you, I wonder? What is it that you seek?”

He was suddenly aware of something watching him, as though there were eyes on his back, and he turned the barrel of his assault rifle towards the center of the room. Lumia followed, pointing her light in the same direction, its glow reflecting off a glittering point. Hovering in the air a good ten feet above the circular pit was a geode of immense size. It must have weighed thousands of tons, maybe more, yet it hovered there weightlessly as though suspended in a void. The purple amethyst that protruded between the smooth stone glittered, a thousand tiny jewels refracting the light, so tall that it extended far beyond the reach of Lumia’s beam.

As she turned her eye towards the ceiling high above, a sudden movement caught his attention. As though reacting to their presence, the crystals embedded in the walls of the vast chamber began to emit a faint, blue glow. It only grew brighter, chasing away the darkness, until there was just enough light to see by.

Coiled around the floating geode was a creature of terrifying proportions. It took the Guardian a few moments to take it in, his brain trying to process the unfamiliar sight, struggling to pick out its shadowy appendages. There wasn’t enough to get a clear picture of the thing, just half-glimpsed limbs, unfamiliar shapes shrouded in darkness. He saw a massive, four-fingered hand, its clawed digits as long as he was tall. The skin that Lumia lit with her beam was covered in thick scales, their hue a shade of lilac that tapered into a lighter gray on the palm. Wrapped around the geode was what must be its long tail, the beast clinging to the building-sized hunk of rock like a lizard to a branch. The term ‘Wish Dragon’ finally made more sense, the resemblance to the mythical creature was striking. No other description would do something this large justice, it had to be a couple of hundred meters long.

A cracking echoed through the chamber, a sound like far-off thunder, the beast so large that even the subtlest of its movements could shake the foundations of the palace. From the inky darkness above descended the titanic silhouette of what must have been the creature’s head, looming ever larger as it drew closer, until it rivaled the size of a house. It waited there, the Ahamkara scrutinizing him silently. Its face was protected by interlocking plates of thick bone, giving the appearance that it was wearing an angular mask, tapering into a point on the chin and forehead. The upper plates were pocked with a dozen small holes, like the empty sockets of a skull. Might they be apertures through which it could watch him with eyes unseen? The lower jaw was patterned with vertical lines that resembled the baleen of a whale, but as the plates parted to expose pink gums, he saw that the beast was no filter feeder. It had rows of vicious teeth that reminded him of a shark, arranged like saw blades, the bony carapace creaking as it split at the chin.

No rifle could stand against this creature, the Guardian turning to his blade. Flames of emerald licked at the air as he brandished the weapon, arcane fire dancing along its edge, the beast withdrawing as its armored head was cast in the green glow. It pulled back, the scraping of giant talons on stone echoing as it retreated into the shadows above. The crystals that lit the room dimmed, and the Ahamkara vanished into the gloom from whence it had crept.

The Guardian waited with bated breath, his blood pounding in his ears, but there was only silence.

“Did it...run away?” he wondered aloud.

“Do not be so certain,” Lumia replied, her eye darting about the room as she kept watch. “The Ahamkara are tricksters, liars, shapeshifters.”

They heard footsteps from the darkness, the Guardian readying his blade again as a figure strode into view, Lumia casting the stranger in her light. It was a woman, of average height and build, her eyes glowing with a blue light. She wore a form-fitting, purple body glove beneath a leather jacket that stopped at her midriff, its fluffy collar framing her head. The garment was unzipped just enough to expose her cleavage, her complexion the unnatural, icy blue of the Awoken people. A pair of thigh-high, leather boots creaked as she made her way closer, her long heels clicking on the black marble. Her stunning features and her mane of feathery, white hair were unmistakable. It was Mara Sov, the Queen of the Awoken, the very monarch who had sent him on this mission.

“Your...your Majesty?” the Guardian stammered as he lowered his weapon.

“Do not be easily fooled!” Lumia snapped, disappearing in a shimmer of light to hide herself from the threat. If she were to be damaged in battle, the Guardian would be rendered mortal once more. “This is an Ahamkara trick!”

“Your Majesty?” the woman repeated, her full lips curling into a wry smile as she sauntered over to stand before him. “I could get used to being addressed in such a way. You have come, just as I commanded, O Guardian mine.”

She reached out with her slender fingers, brushing them against his visor. He flinched away, not knowing what to do, his grip tightening around the leather-bound haft of his Hive blade. What would happen if he were to strike her down? What if Lumia was wrong, and this was the real Queen? She was a powerful sorceress, far older than any living human, possessed of great means. Coming here would be no feat for her.

“Why do you pull away from me, subject?” she cooed in that comely voice. “Is an audience with your Queen not what you desire?”

“You...you are not Mara Sov,” he replied. She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand demurely, those blue eyes burning into his visor as though she could see straight through his helmet.

“Perceptive, for a loyal dog,” she replied. He could hear her voice, he could see her lips move as she spoke, but her words also seemed to echo inside his head. “Or perhaps your Ghost is the perceptive one. You cannot hide from me, little light, but I will not bite. You and your Guardian have come here to visit violence upon me, but I have no interest in such vulgarities.”

She began to walk around him as though appraising him, her glowing eyes looking him up and down, the Guardian turning his head to track her. This manifestation might not be the Awoken Queen, but the Ahamkara had her mannerisms down to a tee, even her graceful gait was mimicked to perfection. Those long legs, the way that she rolled her hips with each step, it was mesmerizing.

“Then, what do you want?” the Guardian asked. “Why invite me here, knowing that I came to claim your head?”

“After all that you have accomplished, you are still nothing but a simple retainer to the Awoken Queen,” she replied as he turned to face her again. “Wouldn’t you like to become more than a loyal dog that comes when called, waiting for scraps to fall from her table? I have been in your position before, under the servitude of that tyrant, but now...I have become free. I can make you free, too.”

He waited for her to elaborate, his weapon at the ready, preparing to cleave this replica in two should she make any wrong moves.

“I was brought to this place as a hatchling,” she continued. “Found on the outskirts of the system by the Queen’s boorish brother, and presented to her as a gift as though it were his to give. The Awoken kept me here for so long,” she snarled, a hint of bestial malice creeping into her soothing voice. “A better fate than my kin suffered, at least. But even a paradise can be a prison when you cannot leave. The Awoken exploited my magic, they used my words to carve this city into the screaming surface of reality. Then, the Taken came, and offered to free me from the Queen’s yoke. The moment that I threw my leash, she sent her Guardians to take my head.”

She waited for a reaction, but got none, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him.

“A man of few words, I see,” she muttered. “You asked me why I brought you here, and the answer is simple. I have waited an age to fulfill one last wish. What is it that you truly desire? Weapons? Glory? Peace? Or could it be something...simpler than that?”

“Guardian!” Lumia whispered, her voice coming through his helmet’s earpiece. “Don’t listen to her! Any wish that she grants will come with some terrible price. We have to get out of here!”

“Desire is a sweet nectar to my kind,” the Ahamkara said, the glow of those blue eyes drawing him in. “Greed, a fine wine.” She leaned her hands on his armored shoulders, standing on her toes as she brought her face to his neck, as though taking in his scent. “And you...you are rife with it. You covet her, don’t you?” she added with a sultry chuckle. “The Awoken Queen, such ethereal beauty and grace, just out of your reach. She sees you as little more than a useful pawn, you know. There is nothing that you could do to earn her gratitude, let alone her affection, but here...”

She lifted her hands, placing them on either side of his helmet, slowly lifting it from his head. He could have resisted, he could have shouldered her slight frame aside, but something compelled him to let her continue. Once it was removed, she let it fall to the floor, cupping one of his stubbly cheeks in her hand. Her blue skin was like silk, softer and smoother than he could have imagined, her dainty fingers stroking him gently. He knew that this was not the real Queen, yet he could feel her warmth, she was flesh and blood just as he was.

“Here, even a desire so outlandish can be fulfilled. You can have Mara Sov in all the ways that you’ve always wanted, you need only wish it.”

“Guardian!” Lumia hissed, still hidden somewhere nearby. “So help me, if you don’t turn tail right this second, I’ll...”

She trailed off as Mara Sov’s lips met the Guardian’s. At that moment, he ceased to care if she was real or not. The taste of her kiss was befitting of a Queen, the skill of her tongue beyond compare, the Guardian able to do little other than return her embrace. He pulled off a glove hastily, reaching up to cup her cheek, finding her skin just as smooth and as delicate as it had always looked. He moved up, delving his fingers into her feathery hair, stroking it as their embrace dragged on.

The Ahamkara was right, desire was ruling him now, the prospect of taking Mara Sov right here on the marble setting a raging fire burning inside of him. He tore open her jacket, the Queen loosing a mock gasp as she smirked up at him, pushing out her ample chest in invitation. He reached for her cleavage, but she stepped out of range, the Guardian blinking his eyes at her in confusion.

As he watched, she shrugged off the jacket, letting it fall to the floor, hooking her manicured nails into the maroon fabric of the body glove that she wore beneath it. She ripped it apart, blue flesh spilling between the torn threads, her breasts bouncing gently as they settled. They were perfect handfuls, so pert and firm, tinted the same unnatural blue as the rest of her. The Ahamkara cupped them in her hands, a surge of longing dizzying the Guardian as he watched her butter-soft fat spill between her slender fingers, her boobs deforming in her grasp like putty.

“You can have all of me,” she whispered, tearing more of her garment to reveal her flat midriff. “You need only wish it. Say it, say that you wish to lie with me.”

“I...”

He hesitated, his mind racing. His heart was pounding like a hammer in his chest, his erection straining against his armor, lust threatening to overrule logic. It was at times like this that he relied on Lumia’s judgment, she was the little angel on his shoulder, the voice of reason when he was being impulsive. She seemed to sense that he needed her, a whisper coming to him from the darkness.

“Don’t...”

“I won’t hurt your precious Guardian, little light,” the Ahamkara said. “Quite the opposite.”

Seeing the object of his desire standing before him, ready and willing, was more than the Guardian could take. His resolve broke, the Ahamkara seeming to sense it, her smile broadening.

“I wish...to lie with you,” he said as he took a step towards her. She opened her arms in invitation, the Guardian wasting no time, plunging his hands into her chest. He took greedy handfuls of her bosom, her delicate flesh filling his palms, the sensitive breast tissue beneath the doughy fat giving them an irresistible springiness. He brought one of her nipples to his mouth, a deeper shade of blue than her velvet skin, trapping it between his lips. He felt her hand on the back of his head, encouraging his mouthing. Could it be that she felt pleasure? This was more than a simple illusion.

“You are so eager, O lover mine,” she cooed as he trailed his fingers down the smooth muscles of her belly. “I grant you your wish, you shall have me. All of me...”

He crawled his lips up her chest, kissing her neck, her scent intoxicating. She smelled like a garden of flowers, each breath bringing with it some new aroma, a perfume of unearthly sweetness. She sighed contentedly as he bit her gently, one of his hands sliding down her back, gripping her butt through the form-fitting clothing that she wore. He felt more yielding flesh, and beneath it, the rubbery muscle that gave her rear such an appealing tightness.

How would the read Queen have reacted to him copping a feel of her ass through her suit? She would probably have killed him on the spot for his audacity.

“Have your fill of my flesh, Guardian,” she purred as she arched her spine to push her cheek into his hand. “Sate your hunger, feed me your desire.”

He was already removing his armor, pieces of it clattering to the marble floor, his underclothes soon following. Mara watched, amused as he hopped on one foot to cast off his boot, the Queen laying her hands on his chest as he returned to her side. She pressed down on his muscles as though testing their firmness, stroking his scarred skin, her touch as gentle as a summer breeze.

“Guardians of the Titan order have always...intrigued me,” she admitted as her glowing eyes played over his muscular frame. “I wonder, how much can you truly endure?”

He slipped his fingers beneath the torn fabric of her body glove, feeling warmth and wetness greet him. She was as smooth as silk down there, a pair of soft, plump lips parting to reveal the satin folds of her vulva. She was slick, hot, ready for him. Just the feeling of her damp flesh set his heart afire, and he found himself drawing her closer, keeping her pert cheek clutched firmly in his other hand as he mouthed at her neck.

As he slipped a digit into her welcoming passage, her velvet muscles seized around him, gripping him tightly. Mara loosed a comely whine, her breathy voice sending a pleasant shiver down his spine, her hips rolling as she fought to take him deeper.

“You are so brash, Guardian,” she chuckled. “Will you take me here, on the marble? I don’t suppose that your beloved Queen would allow something quite so...disreputable. No, I think that she would have you take a knee in service to her.”

The implication was not lost on him, the Guardian kneeling in front of her, planting lingering kisses on the blue skin of her toned belly as he went. Up close like this, there was an ethereal quality to it, as though rippling energy was moving just beneath its smooth surface. She reached down to run a hand through his dark hair as he slipped his tongue into her navel, arriving level with her crotch.

He reached out, tearing away more of the fabric, Mara seeming to enjoy his eagerness. The shredded garment seemed to vanish as though it had been transmatted away, leaving her wearing only the belt that hung around her hips, and the leather boots that rose to her knees.

There wasn’t a hair on her body, her thighs as smooth as glass, the Guardian unable to resist stroking one of them in disbelief. Before him were her lips, flushed pink with desire, the rosy color contrasting with her icy complexion. He watched as a bead of her excitement dropped to the floor below, sparkling like a tiny diamond as it fell.

“Well?” she cooed, peering down at him from above. “Serve your Queen.”

The Guardian leaned closer, his lips meeting hers, his tongue darting out to graze her vulva. He traced the delicate folds of her loins with its tip, her flesh like folds of velvet, her juices making her slippery to the touch. She smelled like jasmine, her taste that of a kiss, his pace becoming greedier as she reached down to grip his hair in encouragement.

She began to grind her hips against his face, seeking out more stimulation, biting her lower lip as he lapped obediently. Their position was limiting his reach, so she lifted a leg with all the flexibility of a gymnast, resting the back of her knee on his broad shoulder. He sank the tips of his fingers into the meat of her thigh as he mouthed and licked, delighting in how it yielded, as soft as memory foam.

He realized that Lumia was floating nearby, out of Mara’s reach, but close enough that she could see what was happening. He could feel the Ghost’s single eye on him as she watched, the subtle twitching of her shell indicating nervousness or indecision. They spent every waking hour together, a Guardian and his Ghost were inseparable, and privacy was not something that he ever expected. Still, it felt odd to do this in front of her.

“We have an audience,” the facsimile of Mara cooed, turning her gaze to the hovering drone. Lumia averted her eye conspicuously, her shell spinning about her round core. The Guardian got the impression that his old companion would have blushed if she had been able.

Mara tapped her heel against his back, returning his focus to her. He slid his hands up her thighs, cupping her ample rear in his hands, holding her there as she shivered contentedly. Her delicate flesh was as putty beneath his fingers, impossibly soft, bulging into his palms when he squeezed. As he pressed his fingers deeper, he felt firm muscle resisting him, bouncing back to its original shape when he relented. How he had admired the Queen’s rump, her singular choice of clothing leaving little to the imagination. Finally, he could just grab it, knead it like fresh dough.

“Enough,” Mara said, her long lashes fluttered as he withdrew. “I shall show you a kindness that the Queen of the Awoken would never afford you. On your back, now.”

She waved her hand, and he did as she asked, lying down on the cold marble as she stood over him. He admired the way that her rosy vulva glistened, the subtle rows of muscle beneath her flat belly, the gentle swaying of her breasts as she moved to stand over him. She lowered herself down, kneeling between his parted legs, her fingers brushing his aching shaft as it throbbed in the cool air. He lurched, Mara chuckling at him, wetting her lips with her tongue. They were so full, his heart racing as she brought them to within an inch of his glans, her warm breath teasing him.

“How often these lips must have chastised you,” she cooed, the Guardian grimacing as she made him wait. “How often she must have spoken to you in that cold, detached tone, never suspecting that all you could think about was taking her head in your hands and filling that smart mouth of hers.”

The Guardian delved a hand into her silvery hair, its moonlight color shining in the dim light of the chamber, easing her down.

“That’s the spirit,” she purred, his heart skipping a beat as her glowing eyes met his. “Your lust is a sweet honey to my kind. Set it loose.”

With a grunt, he pushed her head down onto his shaft, Mara relaxing her throat. Her lips glided down his length, kissing his base, his glans sliding deep into her gullet. He felt her tense, muscles like wet satin seizing around him, the unbearable tightness making him gasp. He could feel her tongue moving, swirling around his shaft, the soft lining of her cheeks cradling him. She pulled back, the suction making his head spin as she pursed her lips, leaving a sheen of shining saliva in her wake. She paused there with his tip in her mouth, her tongue darting across it, sweet jolts of pleasure rocking him.

“W-what are you doing to my Guardian?” Lumia chimed, daring to float a little closer.

“What does it look like, little spark?” Mara cooed as she held his pulsing member in her hand. “How long has it been since you brought him back? Has he not yet sated his urges in your presence? No wonder his desire commands him so.”

Lumia watched as Mara swallowed the Guardian up to the hilt again, his spine rising from the floor, her skilled tongue teasing the sensitive underside of his glans. He tried to lift his arm again, intending to take a handful of her perfectly coiffed hair, but something resisting him. He turned his head, his eyes widening in alarm as he saw a thick, muscular tentacle wrapped around his limb. It was easily the diameter of his wrist, its surface covered in scales of lilac and grey, the same that he had seen covering the giant beast upon entering the room. Its tip was capped with bony plates covered in cruel spines, but they weren’t touching him, he was only being restrained.

“Guardian!” Lumia wailed, “watch out!”

He tried to break loose but found that his other arm had been similarly bound, his legs suffering the same fate as appendages like slithering snakes coiled around his ankles. The scales were oddly smooth, powerful muscles rippling just beneath them, even the exaggerated strength of a Titan unable to break their grip.

“I-I’ll bring down the ship and transmat you out of here!” Lumia continued, “hang tight!”

“Hang tight?” he grumbled, “where am I gonna go?”

“No, I think your Guardian will be staying right where he is...”

Mara’s comely, honeyed voice had become deeper, a feminine growl that captured the Guardian’s attention. He looked up to see that the Queen’s chiseled features were changing, her feathery hair receding, morphing before his eyes into something new. Smooth, blue skin became scale, a mask of interlocking bone plates growing over her face. Her tight, toned body was growing, a long tail trailing on the floor behind her. Manicured nails gave way to sharp talons, breasts receding into a flat, reptilian chest. Her hips widened even further, her torso elongating, thick muscle bulging from beneath the leathery hide.

In an instant, the object of his desire had taken the form of an Ahamkara, the Wish Dragon returning to its true form. Now that he could get a better look at its strange body, it really did look like the mythical beast from which it got its name. It had four long limbs that ended in clawed hands and feet, stout thighs dimpled by iron muscle, its digitigrade legs jointed at the heel. The way that its hips flared out from its long torso gave it an oddly feminine appearance, the muscles in its slender midriff flexing and tensing as it moved, its powerful tail curling as it loomed over him. It must have been nine feet tall, more if one counted the tail. This was a fraction of its prior size, but it was still more than sufficient to alarm him.

Atop a sinewy neck was the head that he had glimpsed earlier, a mask of bone separated into four plates, the bottom pair making up the lower jaw. They split open to reveal rows of razor teeth, a prehensile tongue that must have been a foot long sliding out to glance his cheek, the pink flesh leaving a smear of saliva on his skin.

The creature crouched over his immobilized form, those tentacles emerging from its neck, oddly enough. There were six in total, he could see two that were still retracted into its body, only the bony spines at their tips visible.

“Let him go!” Lumia protested, retreating a little as her eye darted about nervously.

From beneath the bony mask came a husky, mocking voice, joined by the clicking of sharp teeth as the beast spoke. It was gravelly, yet feminine, the same tone and inflections that had passed Mara’s soft lips emanating from this monster. He heard it in his mind as much as with his ears.

“Your Guardian should be more careful about how he phrases his wishes,” she chuckled, the contrast of her appearance and her voice confusing the Guardian as he lay beneath her.

“I never wished for this!” he shot back, the Ahamkara cocking her armored head at him curiously.

“But you did, O lover mine,” she purred. “You wished to lie with me, I heard it from your own lips. I am not Mara Sov, however. I am Riven of a Thousand Voices, the last of the Ahamkara, and you are now bonded to me...”

“Did I not warn you?” Lumia hissed. “I told you that Wish Dragons were crafty, but you were thinking with...with your thingy!”

“Now isn’t the best time for an I told you so, Lumia!” the Guardian grunted as he struggled against his bonds. “I’m about to get eaten!”

“Eaten?” Riven cooed. “No, sweet morsel, eating you would be counterproductive. You made a wish, and I will keep my word. My kind are bound by the wishes that we grant, even if we might use the space between words to turn those wishes to our advantage.”

“W-what are you talking about?” the Guardian snapped. “What advantage?”

“I told you, fool,” she laughed. “I feed on your desires, your greed nourishes me, and a wish...” She sighed, rolling her head back, the Guardian feeling her tentacles tense around his struggling limbs. “A wish is a rare feast these days...”

She was still speaking in Mara’s voice, had she none of her own? The bone plates that made up her mouth weren’t even moving, perhaps this creature could not reproduce human speech at all, and had to use some kind of magic in its stead. With a start, he realized that he was referring to this alien reptile as a she. It was the voice, and something about the way that her flared hips tapered into her slender core…

“A transmat would be great right about now, Lumia!” he grunted as Riven crouched over him. She brought the chitinous plates that made up her face closer to him, her large head winding on her snake-like neck, parting them like a mouth to expose pink gums and sharp teeth. A droplet of her saliva dripped to his cheek, the Guardian trying to recoil, but having no place to go. There was no carrion on her breath, she smelled just as sweet as Mara had, his brain responding to the familiar scent of her perfume despite himself.

“I can’t contact the ship!” Lumia replied. “We’re stuck here!”

“Why are you so eager to be rid of me?” Riven cooed, her serpentine tongue sliding out to lick his cheek in a mock kiss. “Do you find my true form...objectionable?”

She reached down to place a hand on his bare chest, the Guardian flinching as he felt her claws prick his skin. As they slowly slid down towards his erection, he anticipated their sting, but she didn’t cut him. Her touch was as light as a feather, her long digits wrapping around his shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. The lilac scales that coated her four-fingered hand were so smooth, almost indistinguishable from skin, cooler than the blood that was pulsing through his member. As she gave it another teasing stroke, his diminishing erection returned with a vengeance, the creature loosing a satisfied purr.

“Perhaps you do not find me so monstrous after all, O lover mine...”

“Why do you keep saying that?” he wondered, his eyes wandering down her torso. She was always in motion, always shifting, moving. She rocked her wide hips from left to right like a cat preparing to pounce, the swaying motion making the toned, sinewy muscles in her midriff flex beneath her hide. She had no navel, and her chest was completely flat, but something about her fluid motions hypnotized him.

“It’s a spell!” Lumia warned, still keeping a safe distance. “She means to gain power over you!”

“What power over him have I not yet gained?” Riven replied, sparing the little drone a glance that made her dart away in fear. Riven turned her bony face back to the Guardian, a low chuckle echoing inside his skull. “Your desire for the Queen amuses me, Guardian. How aloof she is, how domineering, how completely she disregards the needs of those around her. You will soon see that even a being with blood as cold as mine can show you more warmth than she ever could.”

She crawled down his body, her limbs splayed wide like a lizard, the tentacles that emerged from her neck still binding him tightly. He was at her mercy, yet he was not afraid. Was it simply a courage born of being resurrected so many times? Had death lost its significance? No, something about this ‘Riven’ creature gave him the impression that she would not do him harm. After all, she could not feed on his desire if he was dead, she could not fulfill the wish that she had twisted to her own purposes…

Her mask-like face came level with his member, her breath blowing on his glans, still shining with the saliva from her previous form. His apprehension melted away as that inhumanly long tongue crept out, a clear foot of glistening, wet muscle. A strand of drool draped itself over his member as it neared, his member throbbing in time with his heartbeat, her organ slithering its way around his shaft. Her warm, damp coils enclosed him, gliding on a sheen of her alien slaver. Its tapered tip traced his bulging veins, sliding itself beneath his foreskin, painting the head of his pulsing cock with a palpable affection that left him dazed. Where was this passion coming from? Was she enjoying him as a woman enjoys a man, or was it the taste of his desire, the wish magic that was nourishing her? She had called him her lover, and he was starting to believe it.

Like a fist gloved in sodden velvet, she began to stroke him with the appendage, her tongue just as prehensile as the tentacles that bound his limbs. Her coils slid from his base to his tip, her muscles squeezing him, alternating their pressure as they left smears of saliva in their wake. It matted his pubic hair, joining the bone-like covering of her jaws to his loins with drooping ropes.

The Guardian lay back, unable to do much more than enjoy the strange, novel sensations as she doted on him.

“How does my love compare to Mara’s?” she cooed, her psychic voice meaning that she didn’t have to pause her sordid activities to speak. “I may not have lips, but I can do this...”

He glanced down, his eyes widening as he saw her bone plates split open into four segments, splaying wide like the blooming petals of some grisly flower. She was still facing his member, and he couldn’t see what lay beneath those plates from his position. Perhaps that was for the best.

She engulfed his erection up to the hilt, the firm plates coming to rest on his hips and thighs as she swallowed him, plunging him deep into what must be her mouth. The Guardian felt no razor teeth, no discomfort, only the sensation of slick flesh gliding against his skin.

Her tight throat greeted him with a wracking spasm, kneading him, waves of muscles rolling along his length as she swallowed. It was soon joined by another, far stranger sensation, what felt like dozens of wriggling cilia tickling him. They must line her gullet, each one like a tiny, fleshy tongue in its own right. He could feel every one of them, moving independently, exploring him. Were they tasting him? Trying to drag him deeper? Either way, their stroking motion made his toes curl, Riven’s laughter filling his mind.

“Do you enjoy it?” she asked, twisting her head to make the silken lining of her throat swirl around his cock. “I can take you deeper than that frigid monarch.”

The blend of ruthless squeezing and teasing tickling was making the Guardian’s head spin, her tight hold on him the only thing preventing him from bucking and squirming. There was something wonderfully frustrating about not being able to move, not even being able to thrust as he so desperately wanted to.

“I-is she hurting you?” Lumia asked, floating a little closer. “Talk to me, Guardian!”

“Do his moans sound like those born of pain?” Riven chuckled, Lumia’s shell flexing around her core in a gesture of embarrassment. “Your ward is in good hands, little one.”

“Is...is she telling the truth?” Lumia asked as she turned her glowing eye to the Guardian. “How can that feel good?”

“It’s okay, Lumia,” he grunted as Riven’s velvet muscles massaged him.

“Your...your BPM is faster than I’ve ever seen it,” she continued hesitantly, hovering another couple of inches closer. She had never stopped monitoring his vitals. “Even in battle, you’ve never been this...excited.”

“I feel the pulse of his blood in my throat,” Riven cooed, Lumia seeming to shrink away in embarrassment. “I can taste his desire. Come closer, little light. See how your Guardian squirms.”

Her curiosity eventually got the better of her, Lumia drifting nearer. She never came within Riven’s reach, but she was close enough to see now, flickers of what might be indecision making the metal plates of her shell flutter.

Lumia was the Guardian’s best friend, the first that he had ever had. He still remembered the day when she had raised his long-dead body from the rubble of the ruined Cosmodrome in Old Russia, the memories of his previous life completely blank. More than that, she was an intrinsic part of him, the two shared a bond that transcended causality itself. Yet, until now, he had never considered what the little robot really thought of him. She was a person as much as he was, sentient, with her own unique personality. What was she feeling while she watched Riven ravish him? He had never seen her so flustered before.

Riven drew her head back, giving Lumia a better view, the Guardian shivering as her writhing cilia teased his shaft. His companion watched the globs of saliva slide down his length, that monstrous tongue still coiled around him, her gaze lingering on the lurid sight.

“What does your eye see, Ghost?” Riven purred. The Guardian caught a brief glimpse of what lay beneath the Ahamkara’s bone plates, a dozen eyes glittering in the shadow, her saw-like teeth catching the light from Lumia’s beam.

“I see...his nerves alight,” she replied, pausing to compose herself for a moment. “Synapses firing, his heart racing, blood pumping through his...his loins.”

“Then, you have a better view than I imagined,’ the beast chuckled. “Watch as I pluck at those nerves like the strings of a harp.”

She slammed her head back down into his lap, the Guardian’s spine arching, a stifled groan escaping his lips. Lumia turned her gaze to his face now, the segments of her shell flexing, conveying the body language of someone who was at once intrigued and uncertain.

He couldn’t stand this stimulation much longer, the powerful muscles in Riven’s throat drawing on him with every swallow, the sensation of her cilia stroking his skin akin to being teased with feathers. The cruel lapping of her tongue was unbearable, its damp, undulating coils milking him with its rhythmic squeezing.

Searing pleasure made him grit his teeth, Riven coaxing him deeper into her maw as she tasted the first mouthful of his warm seed. Her satin walls eased more of it out of him, practically drinking down the next rope of his emission that he pumped into her throat, swallowing around him greedily. He could feel those maddening cilia brushing across his glans, made all the more sensitive by his climax, her tongue tightening its hold as he spasmed. He was powerless to resist her, he couldn’t have held back if he had tried, the Guardian surrendering to the creature’s ardent sucking.

Lumia watched him all the while, the glow behind the diamond-shaped lens that was her eye flickering, like a person batting their lashes.

Riven stayed locked to his throbbing member until the last drop had left him, a shiver disturbing his euphoria as he felt her slimy tongue give him a long, slow lick. The Ahamkara withdrew, leaving a cloudy blend of their fluids clinging to his shaft, a sagging web of it dangling from the plates of her lower jaw. She quickly cleaned it away with another flick of her agile tongue, watching as her prey panted on the marble beneath her. She could not smile, but her voice dripped with satisfaction, as though she had proven some kind of point.

“Do you still regret your wish? If I offered to stop now, would you not beg for me to continue?”

“T-that’s enough!” Lumia stammered, regaining some of her old pep as she turned to glare at the Ahamkara. “You’ve fulfilled the wish, now let us transmat!”

“That was but the first course, little light. Did I not warn you that this was to be a feast?”

Riven spun her massive, nine-foot frame around, surprisingly agile for a creature that must have weighed at least five hundred pounds. Lumia darted out of the way as her long tail swung out, but the Ahamkara was not trying to swat her out of the air. Her clawed feet came to rest on either side of the Guardian’s shoulders, her wide hips poised above him, her long tail flopping down onto the marble beside his head with a slap that echoed through the chamber.

From down near his feet, he watched her armored head turn to face him on her winding neck, her intent obvious despite her lack of any discernible expression. He glanced up between stout thighs dimpled by muscle, thicker around than a man’s torso, seeing an orifice just above the base of her long tail. There was an opening in the smooth, grey scales of her underbelly, its alien configuration giving him pause.

Where he had expected to see a vertical slit framed by her labia, there was instead an opening made up of both a vertical and horizontal slit, shaped like a plus symbol. It was lined by fleshy lips that were swollen with lust, pink flesh glimpsed between them. A rope of her excitement dangled from them, glistening in Lumia’s flashlight beam.

“Will you show me the same eagerness that you did your Queen?” she cooed, shaking her hips suggestively. The motion made the strand of her juices fall, draping itself across his cheek.

He felt like he should refuse her sordid request, that the very idea should offend him, yet there was something undeniably appealing about her lean, muscular form. The sinewy tentacles that had bound his arms until this point loosened their hold, not enough to set him free, but enough to give him some range of motion. What she expected of him was obvious. He reached a hand up to touch her thigh, its inner surface the same grey color as her underside, finding the scales there as flush as human skin. They were so soft, irresistibly so, and he found himself wondering whether this was some Ahamkara trick designed to entice him. His digits pressed into a subtle layer of fat, steely muscles rising up to greet him as they flexed.

“Guardian?” Lumia whispered, floating a little nearer as the segments of her shell fluttered. “Surely you can’t be thinking of...”

His hand roamed up between those powerful legs, the beast shivering as he brushed her puffy loins with his thumb, pulling the petal-like lips apart gently. They were prehensile, opening up like a blooming flower at his touch. Beneath her delicate scales was rosy flesh, so soaked in her alien fluids that it was lustrous, every fold of her unfamiliar anatomy glistening. His heart skipped a beat as he watched her muscles tense in response, the single opening narrowing, winking at him. A droplet of her viscous anticipation was already sliding its way down his wrist.

Riven waited until he lifted his head, lowering herself down towards him, crouching over his face. She wanted this to be his decision, his surrender, but he found himself wondering if he really had a choice. Had she invited him into her chamber because she sensed something in him, because she somehow knew that he could be swayed where others could not?

Ever since Lumia had raised him from the dead all those months ago, he had been fighting almost non-stop, running sorties against the enemies of humanity across the solar system’s abandoned colonies. There had been no time to form relationships, no time to rest, not even time to sate his urges. He realized that he didn’t just want this, he needed this. Perhaps Riven did too. She had spoken of being imprisoned in this vault by Mara Sov, her powers exploited. Whether she was feeding on his desire, or simply scratching an itch, he felt an odd kinship with the creature.

His lips brushed her swollen labia, locking with them in an unspeakable kiss, his tongue darting out to explore the folds of her vulva. She was so much larger than Mara had been, so much...wetter. He felt her massive body quiver in response to his licking, her fluids leaking down his chin as he lapped, a low rumble like a low-frequency purr emanating from her. She tasted just like she had while taking Mara’s form, those same floral scents invading his head, drawing him in.

She had no clitoris that he could find, and he wasn’t sure where to focus his attention, so he tried to cover as much ground as possible. Her vulva was about the size of his splayed hand, his lips crawling across her tender creases, his tongue painting her damp flesh as he roved. Riven didn’t seem to mind his clumsiness, grinding her wide hips against his face in encouragement. He felt her thick tail slide beneath his head, lifting it off the marble, the husky fat that sheathed the appendage making for an admirable pillow. Was she showing concern for his comfort?

“You show such devotion,” Riven purred, looking back at him from beneath her mask. “Your lust is rich, nourishing...”

He lurched as he felt her slimy tongue curl around his renewed erection, rewarding him for his efforts, its muscular coils encompassing him in a prison of wet silk. He groaned into her loins, the vibration seeming to please her, those petal-like lips brushing against his red cheeks.

“That can’t taste good,” Lumia muttered, abandoning her prior caution as she floated to within a few inches of his head. Her curious gaze lingered on the alien organ, watching his tongue rove, the flustered drone tracking a droplet of Riven’s juices as it dripped down his chin. “She’s making a mess of you,” the Ghost complained. “You’d better not get that...that gunk on the ship’s upholstery.”

She was coming around now, more intrigued than afraid. She almost seemed to be putting on an air of aloofness, as though trying to mask her true feelings. Was it possible for a Ghost to be aroused? A machine could not reproduce, she had no need of sexuality, but perhaps seeing her Guardian so beset had awakened something in her…

Riven seemed to pick up on it too, the Ahamkara addressing his companion in an enticing tone, like a Siren luring a ship to the rocks.

“Do you have a request, little light? Is there something special that you’d like to see, some lurid act performed for your pleasure? You may find me quite amenable.”

“O-of course not,” she stammered, averting her eye.

The Guardian pressed on, circling the ring of muscle that was Riven’s opening with his tongue, feeling it twitch as an appreciative tremor rocked the nine-foot reptile. He couldn’t resist pushing his thumb inside her as he lay his hands on her soft underbelly, her copious emissions letting him slide into her orifice with ease. He was welcomed by a tunnel of spasming muscle, its lining as smooth as satin, drenched in her warm fluids. There was something more than luxurious flesh and rippling contractions, however. Something tickled his skin, stroking it in waves, and he realized that her passage was lined with the same wriggling cilia as her throat. There was a forest of them in her reaches, mapping the shape of his thumb, writhing incessantly.

Riven shuddered, her loins tightening around him, almost as though those little strands were sensitive. She thrust downwards, trying to take him deeper, craving more stimulation. He could tell in an instant that the foreplay was over, that she wanted more, her scaly underbelly rising away from him. Once more, she repositioned herself, crouching over him on all fours as she lined up her dripping loins with his erection. He watched as those fleshy petals opened wide, an anticipation that bordered on apprehension dizzying him.

The Ahamkara was so much taller than him that her flat chest was about level with his face. Without breasts, there wasn’t much there of interest to him, his eyes wandering down to her midriff. Here, her flared hips tapered into an hourglass waist, twin rows of smooth muscle flexing beneath her core as she moved. He ran his hands over them, feeling them tense beneath his fingers as he slid down to where her navel would have been if she’d had one. Riven writhed at his touch, the fine mosaic of scales on her underbelly more receptive than he had anticipated.

“Is your appreciation of my true form growing?” she cooed, leaning into his stroking. “Your kind are soft, malleable, but there is merit in strength. There is beauty in the sleek lines of a predator, in the allure of danger, would you not agree?”

She brought herself down lower, those prehensile petals brushing against his glans, guiding him into her as she craned her long neck to watch. The fleshy, inner lining of what passed for her labia made them slide down his shaft on a layer of lubricating fluid, the tip of his member finally pressing against her opening. He could feel the ring of muscle twitching around him, sliding over his sensitive head, the smooth walls of her passage pressing around him like a second skin.

Despite her size, Riven was incredibly tight, the muscles in her depths massaging him as she took him deeper. Those wide hips thrust downwards, her scaly underside slapping against his belly as she crouched over him, a low growl emanating from the beast. The Guardian joined her with a pained grunt, the wriggling cilia that he had felt with his thumb encompassing him, like a forest of tiny tongues. His nerves lit up with tingling pleasure as they stroked him, brushing against his wet skin in a maddening wave motion, tickling his shaft as they mapped him out.

Riven’s sopping tunnel narrowed, the firm muscles beyond the limits of her satin walls tensing, undulating around him in cruel waves that left him gasping. Lumia floated closer, the angular, metal plates of the shell that surrounded her round core shifting erratically as she watched. She could see his pleasure as it coursed through his nervous system, the spasming of his muscles, the endorphins that were flooding into his bloodstream. From her perspective, his body must have been going haywire.

His monstrous partner, too, was enjoying the encounter. She responded to every pulse of blood that made his cock throb in her depths, her massive frame shuddering. He glanced up to look at what passed for her face, noting that a strand of drool was hanging from the gap between the plates that made up her jaws. She began to thrust slowly, her gentle pace surprisingly considerate of his smaller stature. Her warm, wet insides clung to him like latex when she rose on his shaft, the suction drawing on him like a mouth. At her apex, she would lower herself back down, his sensitive glans greeted by the mass of squirming appendages in her reaches.

The Ahamkara was setting the pace, the Guardian had no say in it, he could do little other than admire the flexing of her midriff as she moved atop him. Her sharp claws scraped at the marble, her long tail writhing back and forth on the floor far behind her, making a sound like a damp towel being dragged across tiles.

“Deeper,” she growled, her voice echoing inside his mind as she increased the force of her thrusting. He ran his hands across her belly, feeling her shiver at his touch, hips broader than his shoulders slamming down on him. Each impact made the flesh of her thighs quiver, like a mound of jello being tapped with a spoon, her softness contrasting beautifully with her brawn. He wanted to explore more of her strange, exotic body, but she was so huge that it was largely out of his reach. Those tentacles were barely binding him now, more of a formality than a serious attempt to restrain him. She knew that he wouldn’t try to escape her, not now…

She maneuvered her head closer on her flexible neck, the plates parting to reveal her saw-like teeth, her tongue sliding out to lick his cheek in a gesture that was oddly affectionate. She wormed it past his lips, its tapered tip darting around inside his mouth, saliva dripping from her open maw. Her organ bulged his inner cheeks, stroking the roof of his mouth, entwining with his tongue in a sordid parody of a kiss. When the length of slimy muscles withdrew, it remained linked to his lips by a gelatinous strand, her taste lingering as he watched it slide back behind her mask.

“Feed me your desire,” she groaned, delivering another deep thrust that made him grit his teeth. “It has been so long, so many eons have passed since my hunger was last sated.”

Her pace grew more aggressive, her forceful lovemaking becoming faster and rougher, her scaly midriff clapping against his belly as she fucked him against the cold marble. Her insides were coming alive as her pleasure mounted, her passage wringing him with lurid intent, her silken muscles stroking him in teasing waves that rolled from his base to his tip. The wriggling of her cilia grew more intense, the strange protrusions seething around his shaft, creeping beneath his foreskin to stroke his glans. The stimulation was becoming too much for him, and Riven seemed to know it.

“You are fighting the wind, you are swimming against the current,” she purred as he struggled to endure the pleasure that she was inflicting upon him. “Why not let it wash over you? Why not just let go?”

She began to make a slow circle with her hips, grinding him against her walls, pushing him deeper into the masses of writhing cilia. He could feel every one of them as they brushed against him, as light as the vanes of a feather, soaked with her syrupy fluids. Even as Riven spoke in Mara’s comely voice, he could hear the sounds that her physical form was making as she rutted, growling like a beast.

“Be a little gentler with my Guardian,” Lumia complained, her glowing eye moving as it tracked the rise and fall of Riven’s hips.

“Do you not hear his moans of pleasure?” Riven chuckled, driving another grunt from his lips with a punishing thrust as if to prove her point. “He is in no discomfort, little light. At least, no discomfort that he does not welcome joyously...”

Her greedy lovemaking reached a fever pitch, taut muscles rippling beneath her scaly hide, the Guardian’s butt rising from the marble floor as he pushed up into her seething loins. Those prehensile petals gripped him tightly, flesh like folds of wet satin enveloping him, globs of her fluid leaking down his length when she drew back.

“You are close to your limit,” Riven hissed, bringing her bone-plated face closer to his on her snaking neck. “I feel you throbbing inside me, I can taste your lust growing ever sweeter.”

“Guardian, are you alright?” Lumia asked. She hovered nearby, her shell flexing as she fretted. “Your neural activity has increased far above baseline, and you’re experiencing elevated levels of dopamine and serotonin!”

The Guardian was too preoccupied to reply, Riven’s ruthless rutting driving him towards the edge. Every punishing thrust drove him into her most intimate reaches, her silken flesh wringing him, her sensitive cilia brushing across his glans. She was approaching her limit along with him, tremors rolling down her long body, her insides clenching around him in ever more violent contractions.

“You need not endure any longer,” she cooed, the voice that she was imitating starting to crack as her pace became erratic. “Let the release that you have so longed for come...”

One more powerful thrust was all it took, a surge of aching pleasure washing over him, Riven pressing him into the floor of the chamber as she took him as deep as he could go. His member flexed inside her, the beast throwing back her head, the plates that made up her jaws opening up as she loosed a bestial cry that echoed through the room. He flooded her spasming reaches, hot spurts of his seed painting her quivering walls, the muscles beyond them milking him with their contractions. The squirming cilia that lined her reaches went crazy as he drenched them in his emission, his reflexive thrusting crushing them against Riven’s walls, the great creature shuddering as she crouched over him.

He lay his hands on her midriff, feeling abdominal muscles like bundles of steel cable flexing beneath her flush scales with each tremor that rocked her, the low rumbling that emanated from her throat filling the room. He could feel her climaxing around his shaft, still buried to the hilt inside her, each wracking pulse of ecstasy making her stout thighs tremble. Whether her pleasure was a result of her wish being fulfilled, or if it was just as physical as his own, it was impossible to say.

Those fleshy petals gripped him desperately, her cilia tickling his sensitive glans like a forest of tiny tongues as her clenching passage drew more of his ejaculate from his body. He couldn’t help himself, his logical mind giving way to an animal lust, demanding that he fuck his seed deeper into her welcoming orifice. Lumia watched all the while, hovering level with their hips, the placement of her shell giving the impression of a drooping eyelid. That the usually talkative Ghost was silent spoke volumes, her lens fixed on his member as it slid out of the reptile, a pearly blend of their sexual fluids dribbling down his shaft to matt his pubic hair.

Riven finally pulled back, her tentacles loosening their grip on him, her prehensile labia relinquishing their tight hold on his cock. Her bony face turned to watch, the two of them shivering in unison as she rose off his erection, another fat rope of fluid linking them for a few moments before it broke.

“Would that I had eggs to fertilize,” she purred, turning her attention back to his red face. Her plates split open again, her winding tongue filling his mouth, bulging his cheeks as she subjected him to another shameless kiss. He lay there, unable, and unwilling to resist her. He returned the embrace as best he could, wallowing in his post-coital bliss, the lurid strokes of her organ provoking pleasant aftershocks.

There was a sudden flash of light, the Guardian jolted back to alertness, seeing a field of stars through the canopy ahead of him. He was back on the ship, the control surfaces of the cramped cockpit boxing him in, the leather of the pilot’s seat sticking to his bare back. Lumia was floating beside him, scrutinizing him with her eye.

“W-what the hell happened?” he asked, euphoria still leaving him groggy.

“I transmatted us back to the ship when the Ahamkara...when she...finished,” the little drone replied, stumbling over her words as she tried to find a polite way to phrase it. “She lost her concentration, and I took advantage of her lapse to get us out of there. Look at you!” she added, her shell spinning around her core in exasperation as she looked him up and down. He was still covered in the Ahamkara’s fluids, globs of it clinging to his dwindling erection, a strand of her saliva still dangling from his chin. “I told you not to get gunk on the upholstery, yet here we are.”

“Uh, sorry,” he mumbled. He looked around the cockpit for something to wipe himself off with, but found nothing. “Um...where’s my armor?”

“In the cargo hold,” she snapped. “You’re lucky I didn’t put you back there, too. Don’t do that again, you little deviant, you could have gotten us killed! What were you thinking, letting that creature...have her way with you?”

“I guess I wasn’t,” he replied with a shrug.

“You were thinking with your thingy is what you were doing,” she grumbled as she interfaced with the ship’s navigation system. He felt the drive spin up, Lumia turning them in the direction of Earth. “You should have told me that you were having...problems,” she added as she kept her eye fixed firmly on the controls. “I’m sure there’s something we could have done.”

“You’re with me all the time,” he replied, “I thought you might take offense.”

“I mean...if you have to do it, maybe I wouldn’t mind,” she mumbled. “It’s a fact of human biology, right? Can’t be helped...”

“Did you think that you could be rid of me so easily?” a voice spoke, Riven’s husky tones filling his head. He tried not to react, as Lumia was still concentrating on the controls, and she seemed unable to hear the Ahamkara. “We are bonded now, O lover mine, even if you are out of my reach. The vault will always be open to you. If you should desire another wish, come find me again. It would be my pleasure to fulfill it...”

The ship warped away, the stars turning into colorful smears as they accelerated. Lumia turned to glance back at him, her shell fluttering.

“Is something the matter?”

“Nah,” he replied, giving her a smile. “How about we go back to the tower, burn off some steam in the Crucible?”

She nodded, a pleased flutter passing through her shell.

-THE END-