November Lewd - SNOWPIERCER

Sellas 2 was primed to be an idyllic garden world. Even in an uncolonized state it served as an ideal way-point along a critical inter-system travel lane. With the oceans full of water, the breathtakingly beautiful coastline, and gravity that was comfortable without triggering muscle atrophy it ticked nearly all the necessary boxes to become a thriving colony world. It’s oxygen rich atmosphere was free of turbulent weather patterns, and it’s single star was projected to remain stable for billions of years, making construction a breeze and volunteers abundant.

There, was, however, one small hiccup.

It tended to rain liquid oxygen over the poles, and the peak temperature at the equator in the dead of summer was still cold enough to freeze anyone who might consider stepping outside unprotected into a meat popsicle within 8 minutes, give or take 3 minutes to account for mass. The star was a white dwarf, and the solar output of said white dwarf was markedly below the average one might see in main sequence star. The marketing material advertised the weather as “incredibly predictable” and “basically constant.” This wasn’t an exaggeration, as it was it was constant, oppressive, and brutal cold.

This relatively minor issue could be resolved with atmospheric processing. A slight tune up of the gas composition would have Sellas 2 retaining enough heat to power standard weather patterns and make the equatorial region easily habitable. The north and south would still be a bit chilly, not exactly ideal for farmland but there were plenty of ski-lodges planning franchise expansion onto the world by the third decade of the terraforming project.

While the vast majority of day to day terraforming can be conducted by automated atmospheric processors, a certain level of staffing is required to maintain such a machine while also ensuring that it’s output remains on track with the rest of the project. Such positions are hazardous, well compensated, and attract a narrow band of rugged individualists, starry eyed idealists, and weirdo’s that can’t exactly fit in anywhere else.

Delilah and Balto were both from the final category.

Both had graduated in the bottom third of their technical certification classes, both had “failed to distinguish” themselves in their capstone courses, and both found themselves working in a 2-person station in the polar region of Sellas 2 after being hired by merit of their willingness to spend long periods of time in cramped conditions with minimal outside contact while performing repetitive menial tasks. In short, they were warm bodies that could be thrown at a problem no one else wanted to deal with, and they both knew it.

It is said that the bonds of brotherhood forged in the fires of adversity are the strongest. What is said less often, but is just as true, is that the bonds forged in the muggy heat of commiseration and poor management are also still pretty strong. So it was between Delilah and Balto, who found themselves fast friends by dint of necessity more than anything else.

====================

“Can you pass me the phase-vector analysis tool . . . thing? I’m getting weird artifacts in the signal from those composition sensors in the gas-cracking outflow port, and I’m hoping that it’s something stupid like a badly seated fuse or we’re missing a firmware update and not-” Baltogrunted, shifting slightly in the cramped space of the maintenance duct. “Not something bad that means we’re going to explode.” Laid out flat on his back and staring up at a diagnostic screen that was hard to read when it wasn’t half frozen-over, the position was extremely uncomfortable and had taken quite a bit of effort to get into.

He sighed quietly as he heard the clunk of a disturbingly expensive piece of equipment bouncing to a halt on the deck plating between his knees. Delilah had “passed” it to him.

“Please don’t throw equipment at me, if it breaks they’ll write us up . . . and I still can’t reach it there.” His breath fogged the air, then froze into delicate little crystals that spider-webbed across the internal wiring. With an irritated huff he brushed most of it off using the bulky glove that kept his fingertips from freezing to exposed metal.

Indistinct human grumbling echoed up from between his legs, along with the squeak of her polymer-skinned cold-suit. He craned his neck, peering at the little gap that existed between his midsection and the edge of the maintenance hatch.

“Still can’t reach it . . . too fuggin’ cold for this . . . Oh I’ll put it somewhere you can reach it.” Delilah practically growled as her legs appeared in the narrow slit of his view. “I’m comin’ in.”

“Delilah, there’s barely room for me in here what maaaaAAAA-” Balto’s voice rose into a sharp whine of surprised distress as his co-worker roughly shoved her way into the confined space with him. Their cold weather gear squeaked and rustled as synthetic fibers slid over one another, and he squirmed with discomfort as Delilah’s elbows dug into his midsection as she shoved the diagnostic tool into his face.

His breathing was shallow, and not just because of the newfound pressure on his chest. Her face, scowling behind the thin polycarbonate shield that made up the visor of her thermal hood, fogged with his breath as she thrust the tool he had requested practically down his throat. “There. Can you reach it now?” She huffed indignantly, panting with a mixture of exertion and discomfort as she squeezed up against him.

There was a faint rustling against her sides that made her twitch slightly, then an extended, awkward pause.

“. . . actually, no. Still can’t reach it.” Balto gave her a sheepish, apologetic look. His arms were trapped between her, the walls of the maintenance shaft, and his own torso. He might have been able to get his hands around her hips to pull her out of the way but-

He yelped sharply as Delilah torqued her weight around, digging her shoulder into his throat as he heard the sound of synthetic fiber being shredded. His thick fur let him get away with just a light heating suit, the thin strips of carbon-fiber heating element across his thighs, chest, and forearms woven into his company issue jumpsuit rigged to engage whenever the ambient temperature dropped too low, but Delilah was in a fully-enclosed cold-suit. “Delilah!” he managed to wheeze. “I think you just tore part of my suit!” It wasn’t painful per se, as she didn’t weigh enough to really hurt him the way she was angled, but it was definitely uncomfortable.

“No, I didn’t.” She mumbled, the faint beep of the diagnostic tool powering up punctuating her sentence. “I just tore part of my suit.” She whispered something more to herself, indistinctly, as Balto’s brow shot up with alarm. Without any fur, with substantially less mass, and employed company very concerned about the safety of it’s human employees, she was definitely going to be the subject of a safety write-up now. The human cold-suits were made to an exacting standard using cutting edge insulation material, integrated life support, and a nano-tech visor coating that stopped them from fogging up. They even kept the air inside the hood at a stable humidity to prevent dry skin from protracted use.

They were not, however, terribly resistant to being hung on a jagged case edge when packed inside a maintenance shaft. All signs pointed to that being the exact case at hand, by Balto’s estimation. The ragged hole at her waistline was leaking warm air into the vent frigid confines of the maintenance chute, which wasn’t really a problem for him, but couldn’t have been pleasant for her.

“I’m sorry, I missed that last bit, could you speak up?” If the Delilah was already losing focus from cold, or worse suffering an abrupt shock because of the temperature-

“I said, ‘Boltzmann on a bike, it feels like Jack Frost is trying to finger fuck my asshole.’”

Balto jawed silently, taken aback somewhat by his co-workers foul mouth. Delilah kept working in silence for several minutes, intermittently huffing indistinctly as she struggled with the confined space and vector analysis tool. She shivered slightly, trembling against his chest as the cold seeped deeper into her voided suit. He could see her jawline tighten through the side of her visor as she clenched her teeth to stop them from chattering.

“Delilah, we can stop working on this for now, get you back to the command center, and patch your suit up before going on with this. It’s not worth getting hypothermia over.” His words were still slightly stifled by the weight on his chest, but if his partner heard them she didn’t seem to care.

“Shut up or tell me when I’ve got the phase offset right.” She shoved the small, safety-yellow slate into the maze of braces above him so he could just barely make out the readings. Thin wires connecting it to an array of probes that she struggled to get into place on the sensor, mounted most irritatingly on the wrong side of the inflow pipe they were working beneath.

She rolled again, this time onto her back, to the sound of yet more material being ripped open. “Fuckin’ hell . . .” she muttered angrily.

Balto didn’t respond. He was too busy biting down on the tip of his tongue. There was something warm, far too warm, far too soft, and far too pleasant nested snugly against his loins. He looked up and away towards a flashing light over his shoulder as if somehow that would give her more space or change the fact that his sheath was practically planted between her buttocks. He needed to be professional about this, but it was hard for him to think through how to handle her with such . . . pressing distractions. Handle her professionally, that is.

“C’mon . . . almost have it. Fuck.” A clunk echoed through the space. “One second-” Delilah swore copiously as she began to scoot slightly deeper into the tunnel with a series of awkward squirming motions. Her ass ground across Balto’s sheathe, the softness of her body sharply contrasting the hardness of her personality. His breath caught in his throat for a moment, and his eyes closed as he struggled to think of fortress-sphere, one of the slowest, dullest sports he’d ever watched about running in circles and waiting for one person to do something.

It wasn’t enough. He could still feel the rush of blood, the tightness of fabric. No recitation of sport-statistics could stymie direct and protracted physical stimulation.

“What’s the readout now?” Her voice was strained, and she was clearly struggling to reach something buried in the network of piping above her. “U-umm . . . you’re-” He inhaled sharply, “-you’re off by about .6 rad. Err, increase by .6 rad.” If she had noticed the steadily growing bulge pressed against her . . . he was perfectly happy to pretend it wasn’t there.

Except it absolutely was there, and as more and more of his tool slipped from his sheathe it became less of a bulge and more of a broad, phallic shaped ridge running up the lower abdomen of his suit. His twin sets of teeth clicked together as he suppressed a hiss when Delilah shifted again. “Think you can do anything about that buckle on your suit? It’s really digging into me.” Delilah sighed with frustration. “And what’s that reading at? Am I at least closer?”

“Y-yep. Just .2 off now, k-keep it coming. I mean going.” He fumbled his words, and silently cursed himself.

“Wait, is it coming or going? Higher or lower?” She tried to throw a look back at him, but her head was lodged between two emergency release valves, and she couldn’t twist far enough to see his expression of mixed exasperation and sexual frustration.

“You’re off by negative .2 rad.” He did his best to steady himself, and his voice, but it was no use. There were no buckles on the front of his suit.

“I can’t quite . . . dogshart!” It was one of the more inventive expletives she’d uttered this shift, and for the moment it distracted Baltofrom the tent-pole in the front of his jumpsuit. “Okay, I see what I’m going to have to do here. I need to you grab me by the hips, and help me get deeper in here.”

Silence.

“. . . Balto?”

Her voice echoed in the small space, and all Balto could do was sigh, very slowly, and very quietly.

“. . . Baltodid you hear me? I need to your help to get up in this bitch and get the job done.”

Awkward silence reigned as his face burned scarlet. “Y-yeah. Okay. Hips? Like . . .” He gingerly wrapped his paws around her delicate waist. “What now?”

“Great, yeah, now I’m just going to need a little nudge. You’re going to have to pull me up towards your head, and then give me a little thrust into this tight fuckin’ opening. Damn you tol’s and your long arms . . . I’m trying to fit in a space probably designed to accommodate your bicep.”

“Don’t think about it, just do it. Don’t think, just do.” It was a silent mantra he chanted while gingerly, slowly, chewing the inside of his cheek so hard he was fairly certain it was bleeding, ground his co-worker’s bubble-butt up the length of his shaft just as she requested.

“You do not want to know where your buckle is poking me right now.” She grunted, slightly muffled by the maze of metal her head was trapped in. Suddenly, there was a quiet pop and a soft chime from the vector analysis tool as something beyond his sight slipped into place. “That should do it. What’s the meter say?”

“Perfect.” He hadn’t meant to growl it so loudly but . . . well. The moment was getting increasingly heated and he wanted it over. Or to keep going. There were increasingly intense, increasingly conflicted desires running through him at the moment. “Can we be done with this?”

“Keep your shorts on, no need to get snippy, I’m the one that did all the hard work.”

She had to know. There was no way she didn’t know. No one could accidentally make so many double entendres and not . . . combust or something. He held his tongue as she wiggled out of the gap she’d worked herself into, grinding with frustrating pleasantness down his length once again, before settling into place with his beaded shaft pressed into the small of her back. Inside his suit a dollop of arousal had smeared itself across the rock-hard, angled head of his member and was soaking through multiple under-layers of fabric, and it was physically painful how taut his suit felt against him now. Things only got worse as Delilah wormed her way out of the maintenance shaft, applying the most uncomfortably wonderful pressure across his length as she struggled.

With a dull clatter and the difficult to characterize high pitched scratching sound of nylon on nylon, Delilah finally freed herself from the cramped workspace and twisted around to examine the damage to her cold-suit. “Bloody hell, who built this? They need to go back to . . . cold-suit making school or something.” She grumbled as warm air fogged out of the rent in the back of her protective equipment. The change in temperature and humidity was so sharp the outflow from within her suit was actually causing tiny flurries of ice crystals to precipitate out of the air, creating tiny rainbow halo’s around the work lights in the hall.

Balto watched as, with one final step forward, she tore the cold suit clean in two, the bottom half falling around her knees as she nearly tripped over the silvery insulation material. “Hell . . . there’s no salvaging this, just perfect. Great end to a great day.” She grumbled to herself with an exasperated sigh, before bending over to start digging through her tool kit for a thermal blanket and tape to make the best of things with.

He could only make her out from the waist down, and though he knew it couldn’t have been pleasant for her, it was the best view he’d had in months on this snowball of a planet. All humans working planet-side had issued specially made trauma-skins. Molded from 3D scans, composed of carbon fiber and layered with shear thickening membranes, they protected the wearer from puncture wounds, accidental cuts, a considerable degree of high-velocity strikes. It wasn’t enough to totally make up for the gap in physiological rigor between humans and other species, but it meant that you didn’t have to worry quite as much about them falling down and having their bones explode. The body hugging, form fitting, skin tight, glossy material also hugged, squeezed, and lifted every curve on her bent-over, shivering body to wonderful effect.

Frustratingly wonderful effect.

“Maybe if I slip out and start warming up the rover . . .”

It was the first inkling of a plan to avoid an awkward conversation that would probably involve HR at some point. He wasn’t even sure who would be sexually harassing who, but it wouldn’t end well for anyone. Besides, apart from the fact that she swore like a sailor, had the patience of chipmunk on meth, and respected his privacy about as much as a surveillance state, he quite enjoyed working with her. They were both mediocre at their jobs, but neither of them offloaded their work burden on the other. When it came to sharing a habitat module with her, she didn’t mind that he left the place a mess, and he didn’t mind that she used up three-quarters of their hot water for every shower. Neither of them were perfect, but none of their flaws were so sharp or prominent as to wound the other.

Working with her was like sitting in a musty, slightly broken armchair. Sure, it smelled weird and sagged to one side, but it was soft and warm and there was nothing better than falling into it after a long cold day on the range. She was crude, but often hilarious. Impatient, but spontaneous and clever. Nosy, but mindful and sympathetic to the little things no-one else would have cared about.

Now, if he could just slip out of this tunnel, slide around her in the hall, and make it to the airlock without her noticing the tent he was pitching . . .

“Hey, Balto, can you give me a hand patching my-” She turned around just as he was halfway in, halfway out of the wall. He looked up at her wide eyed, slack jawed expression beneath her visor. She looked down at the “buckle” that had been digging into her the entire time she’d been working. “-erection. I MEAN SUIT.” She blurted out quickly, face turning bright scarlet. “Not my erection. I don’t have one of those. Just a suit. That needs patching. I’m . . . wow that’s not smaaaahhh what am I saying!”

Deliah’s voice rose to a panicked whine while he was lurching out into the hall with raw embarrassment and panic. A dull clang reverberated through the corridor, knocking little showers of ice crystals from overhead conduits as he smashed his head on the edge of the maintenance hatch hard enough to dent it. Hissing in pain, both hands snapped to his head to cradle the wound while he struggled to his feet. Daubbing a thin line of blue blood from his scalp, he grimaced at his blood tinted fingertips while his head throbbed with every beat of his pounding heart.

“Oh shit, Balto, you’re bleeding.” She rushed to his side, dropping the thermal blanket and kicking off the lower half of her cold-suit in the process. Her gloved fingers were smoothing fur and lightly brushing the area around his injury free of ice as she fretted over him. “Uhh, okay, don’t panic-” clearly speaking more to herself than him, “just sit tight, I’ll grab the medical kit from the rover and I’ll be back in just a second. Don’t . . . what are you supposed to do when you hit your head? Don’t . . . don’t think too hard?”

“Del . . . relax. It’s just a bump. I’ll be fine.” He sighed, still wincing as the two of them both lightly probed the growing welt on the crown of his head. “Besides, you’re missing half your cold suit. You stay here, wrap up, pop on the emergency heater while I go get the rover warmed up and bring it up close to the airlock.”

She scowled, even as he felt her body shiver against him. “I’m not the one with the bleeding head wound here. Besides, you could be concussed and delirious right now!”

He chuffed, a faint smile crossing his face as she worried over him him. “I’m not delirious and I’m . . . probably . . . not concussed.”

“Oh, right, sure. Probably fine.” She rolled her eyes, still checking over his wound for slivers of metal or anything else that might make it worse than it appeared. “Big-tough-handsome Dorarizen don’t need to be careful . . .” She muttered to herself as she parted the fur on his head once again.

“Handsome?” His eyebrows perked up slightly, he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“Yes handsome!” She snapped. “Handsome and funny and sweet too. Not exactly observant or bright . . .” She huffed loudly, placing her hands on her hips. “How many times have I asked if you’re single? How many times have I asked you about ‘your thoughts on humans?’ How many times have I walked in on you in the shower? If you were half as endowed with brains as you were downstairs we’d be shagging in the rover by now!” She crossed her arms, shivering with a mixture of cold and indignation. “Now . . . sit down, I’m going to go get some topical antiseptic and auto-sutures.”

Gathering the thermal blanket up off the floor and tying it around her waist like some kind of skirt, she stomped off indignantly as Balto could only stare and blink stupidly she went. His ears perked up, and he managed to find enough of his voice to call after her.

“H-hey, wait! What was that about shagging in the rover?”

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“. . . stupid . . . moron . . . idiot.” Delilah panted softly, the interior viewports of the rover frosted over from the brutal cold that locked the world in an eternal twilight. Baltoswallowed hard as she gingerly reached out for him, her fingers digging into the light, downy fur of his exposed chest. Thick slabs of muscle over ultra-dense bone had him built like a demigod from ancient human myth. He was the romanticized blend of human grace and bestial power, at least to her eyes. She leaned in, pressing her ear over his heart. Long white hairs tickled her nose as the booming notes of his heartbeat quickened, and she couldn’t suppress a smile. In the background, the craft chugged and trundled away, heedless of the intimacy of its passengers. Auto-pilot guided it along a pre-ordained route while an internal heater struggled to keep the cabin warm.

“My idiot, who needs to be more careful.” She chided him softly, eyes closed, a faint smile on her face. They had gingerly stripped each other, both eager to explore but not so eager as to be reckless. He’d never realized the incredibly sensual appearance something that was nearly furless could have, the way her skin took on an almost ethereal blue glow from the instrument panels. He savored the way her pilomotor reflex would draw her flesh up into little bumps if he brushed her ever so slightly, a visual indicator that she enjoyed simply being caressed. She, in turn, had marveled at his robust build, but it was the gentle and delicate way that he could put it all to use that held her so rapt.

“I am careful.” He murmured, scowling playfully at her as he drew the back of his claw along her jawline. She crooned softly, and leaned away from him, arching her back to present her chest to him. A quiet yelp of surprise, followed by a moan of pleasured satisfaction escaped her as his broad tongue lapped across the sensitive flesh of her breast. Her fingers dug into his scalp, gingerly avoiding the area she’d auto-sutured up just minutes ago, but if it caused him any discomfort there was no sign of it.

Power. Strength. Endurance.

Not that she’d ever want to see him hurt, but there was something oddly arousing about how he could just . . . shrug it off. The bleeding had been staunched by the time she’d returned with the medical kit and-

She inhaled sharply as her planted a row of delicate licks and kisses down her abdomen, easing her onto her back as he went. Within moments the air was filled with soft sounds of her pleasant approval of his attentions, the marvelously powerful tongue of her alien lover working gently around and over her mound before straying even lower. Moans became sharp hisses, and the gentle roll of her hips became the taut curling of her toes as his tongue probed and pleasured her with a ponderous but unflagging stamina.

Pressure built in her like the rising crescendo of a symphony about to burst into glorious song. He pulled her close and tight, her thighs locking around his muzzle as the trembling quake of climax wracked her body from her trembling toes to the electrified hairs on her head. High pitched squeals she wasn’t even aware of making were interrupted by little hiccups as he pressed on, driving her from the peak of her first orgasm to the second, only stopping when she shakily planted hands against his head and nudged him away.

The frost over the interior viewports had slowly begin to turn back to liquid as her shaky voice filled the small space. “E-easy there big guy . . . just need a minute to . . . whoo.” She let out a long, content sigh. “Recover. You’re good at that. Almost too good at that.” She giggled, still lightheaded and basking in the afterglow.

As he sat up, she gingerly reached out to lightly bump his turquoise colored tool with the ball of her foot. She stroked the pointed head with her toes, head cocked to the side as she gave it a playful nudge, watching the masculine lance of flesh twitch at her tantalizing touch. He stiffened, both his back and his manhood, and it caused her to giggle again. “Can’t imagine that’s comfortable trapped inside a jumpsuit.”

Balto let out a low growl. “You have no idea.”

A sly grin crossed her face as she rolled onto her front, and then pulled her knees up to her chest, presenting a still flushed and needy sex to him. “Well, maybe I can make it up to you somehow?” She gave her butt a playful wiggle, even as she looked over her shoulder at him to gauge his reaction. He seemed hypnotized, transfixed, even as his blood sang in his ears and his hands moved of their own accord to knead her plush rear.

“You’re drooling, dog-boy.”

She snickered as the back of his paw shot to his mouth, flushing with embarrassment.

“Not where I was talking about . . .” She bit her lip, her eyes containing unadulterated lust. “Now . . . can you get down to doing the thing I’ve been imagining you doing since like, the third week we worked together?”

He nodded rapidly, before taking a deep breath. One hand on her hips, the other on his shaft, he delicately guided his cyan shaft to part her lips, the articulating nodules along his length shifting and trembling with anticipation. Working in little circles he gingerly parted her, throaty moans spurring him on as he sank more and more of his malehood into her depths. Her insides gripped him like a velvet glove, the hot, neediness of her body working to draw him in just as he delicately speared her. Twin grunts drew forth from both of them as he bottomed out, both of inarticulate satisfaction. A matched set, he began to draw in and out of her, a powerful pistoning that filled the air with the heat and sound of passionate love-making.

Outside, all that could be distinguished was the unusual rock of the rover across even ground, and the occasional groan that was definitely not the engine or the suspension. Inside, the air was heavy with the dull slap of sensitive flesh against sensitive flesh, and the accompanying moans, growls, hisses, and cries of passionate affection that accompanied such mingling. It astounded him, the way she could bend, flex, and contort her body around his shaft, and it amazed her the level of control he had over the miraculous beads that studded his length. As he toyed with the mounds of soft flesh upon her chest, she bounced upon his limit-testing knot. As grand as his stamina was, she hoped it would not last him forever, if only because she wanted him to feel the same climactic release she had.

It did not take long. With her back pressed against his chest and face buried in the wadded up remains of her clothes as a pillow, she was being mercilessly pounded into the passenger seat when a growling whine echoed through the rover. Hot, thick, and undeniably virile seed painted her insides, spilling out and puddling on the console between them. It would be a nightmare to clean up, but at the moment neither of them cared. Locked together, like this, with nowhere else they even could be for the hours their journey would take, they both let out satisfied groans of pleasure.

“Hey Balto?” Delilah mumbled through the sleeve of her cold suit.

“Yeah Del?” He panted back.

“. . . we’re not going to make our quotas next month, are we?”

There was a long pause. “We’ll make them . . . probably.”

She shifted slightly, to look at him more directly. The windows fogged with every tremendous, heaving breath he took, and sweat was dripping off his coat, even as his face was glazed with an expression of pure contentment.

“What?” He blinked blearily, still smiling at her, and still buried deep in her sex.

“Nothin’. Just trying to savor the moment.” She said back, softly. The rover ground on, heedless of the tender moment occurring within the efficient but aesthetically unappealing sphere of a cockpit. The quiet crunch of snow beneath heavy treads, and the whirr of the high-density battery array filled the air, while the sexually charged atmosphere faded into something altogether more tender.

He glanced over at the clock on the rover’s dashboard.

“Auto-pilot says we’ve still got about three and a half hours. Want to make a few more moments to savor?” He grinned, and she gave a purr of approval.

“Mhmm . . . yes. Let’s.”