Down in the Bayou
folder
+M through R › Red vs. Blue
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
4,664
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+M through R › Red vs. Blue
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
4,664
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Red vs. Blue, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Down in the Bayou
Title: Down in the Bayou
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Tucker/his baby-daddy
Warnings: EXTREMELY dubious Elite sex. Beware?
Summary: How to make a Tuckerspawn. Pure, uncut crack-smut.
* * *
Tucker felt something hot and wet slide over the back of his neck. It stung. What the fuck? Mostly asleep, he tried to reach up to touch the wet patch of skin and was roughly shoved into the soft marsh soil by massive four fingered hands.
The alien settled itself gently on Tucker’s back, light purple tongue extending to further lap at the exposed flesh at the soldier’s neck. Tucker whimpered. What the hell was happening?
“Crunchbite?” He whispered, eyes wide and muscles taut with fear, pushing feebly against the ground. The alien churred and nibbled contently at the saliva drenched skin beneath him, stretching out its muscled digitigrade legs on either side of Tucker’s body.
“Woark,” the Elite growled and resumed its licking.
The stinging on the back of his neck faded to a dull, aching pulse of heat that swam in his stomach and made the soldier’s pupils dilate, thick and black, with arousal.
Oh fuck no. Seriously? Is this seriously happening right now? One part of Tucker’s drugged brain was focused on the moral, physical and fucking *gross* implications of what was taking place. Unfortunately, the other, more important parts were being turned into titillated mush.
With a few movements that Tucker’s numbed body didn’t even register, the alien tugged down the Spartan’s sleeping bag and rucked up his tank top, moving its mandibles down to the soft plot of skin between the man’s shoulder blades. The pointed tongue traced a line down the Blue’s spine, leaving a sticky, warm trail of tingling drool in its wake.
Eventually the band of Tucker’s sweats stopped the alien’s advance. Smirking at the flimsy barrier, Crunchbite lifted one of his hands from the soldier’s back and easily pulled the pants up and over the curve of his ass and down his thighs
Tucker miserably stifled a small groan of desire and shifted his hips, grinding his cock into the lining of the sleeping bag. A tiny part of his mind was still aware and completely horrified at his own actions. The rest, again, was quite satisfied being gently pet by the hulking alien crouched over him. The creature’s hands wove a quick pattern from his shoulders, down his back, over his ass and came to rest at the top of his thighs. Tucker felt wetness drip into his crack, hotter than the thing’s spit, slicker, and much, much more frightening.
In a surge of terror-inspired strength, Tucker gripped the sleeping bag and hunched to the side, peering over his shoulder.
The alien stiffened in mild surprise, gripping the soldier’s thighs tightly. Its serpentine neck flexed as it cocked the small, armored head. One beady eye stared down at him in curiosity and suspicion. But Tucker wasn’t focused on the creature’s face. His gaze was pinned between its legs.
A long, pointed shaft was beginning to slip from a swollen slit in the alien’s groin. It bobbed, dark pink and glistening with a viscous clear fluid that leaked profusely from the tip, over the globes of Tucker’s ass and directly onto his exposed pucker.
*No!*, the alert portion of his brain cried. Crunchbite simply chuckled and pressed down on Tucker’s thighs, spreading them apart as it pushed the thin head of its cock inside the paralyzed Spartan.
It was slippery and hot and *God*, was it wrong that a thick, smooth dick working its way into his numbed asshole felt so good? Tucker clamped down on the invading member with whatever inner muscles he could still work, but that merely caused the alien to let out a gurgle of pleasure and push impossibly deeper inside of him.
The Spartan’s pale skin was flushed pink at the cheeks and where Crunchbite’s hands were holding him down. Blue, mottled hide covered the fingers that dug into his hips, making him look even smaller and whiter than he really was against the huge, armored frame of the alien warrior.
It moved, sliding its cock in and out of his ass with soft, slick noises. Then, oh god, then Tucker could feel it, the tiny ridges near the head as it popped in and out of his anus, dragging along his insides and bumping firmly against his prostate. The thick base of the thing’s shaft spreading him wider than he’d ever been, more open than any straight man should be spread. Chrunchbite’s pace was steady, slow, a deliberate pull and push, flex and drag of its hips as it knelt, growling near Tucker’s ear and moved its hands to clutch the fabric near Tucker’s head.
*Yes*. Fuck, yes. More more, it’s good, Fuck you, it’s good, you bastard, it’s good, why, please, hard-
Complying to his mortifying inner pleas, the alien pressed its body flush with the private’s, lifted its hips, and slammed down into the receptive body beneath it. Over, and over, and over.
Tucker howled.
Chrunchbite held him close and grinned, breeding the human like he had the females on his homeworld. The boy was so soft, so smooth and salty and tight around him, and he was making tiny, frightened sounds of pleasure that only spurred the alien to hump faster into his loosened hole. As lost as he was in the human’s heat, he still watched him closely for signs that the sedative was wearing off. When the Spartan arched his back and started pushing to meet his thrusts, then blindly reached down to grasp his own cock, Crunchbite merely purred.
“Worge-woark,” he rumbled, lapped his tongue over the human’s cheek, and closed his eyes.
Tucker was sweating and moaning and feeling like some filthy Louisiana whore being fucked raw out in the wetlands by a mutated gator-man. He twisted his wrist, jacking himself off furiously as the Elite sped its pace, knowing what was about to happen and knowing, hating, that he was about to enjoy the fuck out of it.
And then he did it. Tucker whimpered and shot thick, messy ropes of come over his hand and the sleeping bag.
The alien roared, cock jumping and spitting against the spasms rippling inside the Spartan’s body. It was hot. Tucker swallowed against the slutty groans he wanted to make. Hot, and there was so much, and it was twisting up his insides so *good* and slipping out of his ass and *oh, fucking jesus* sliding over his empty balls and onto his softening prick. He could feel it, every spurt of semen as the giant cock inside him twitched and pulsed until it had nothing left.
Someone, kill me.
The warrior panted hard, breath blasting over Tucker’s ear and heart thumping solidly against the human’s back. When he was sure that every last bit of his seed had been given, he slowly slid out and nestled back on his knees. The human turned gingerly onto his side and looked up at him with a violated and questioning stare. The Elite’s mandibles rubbed over each other as he thought of something to say.
“Worg?”
Tucker blinked. Crunchbite shrugged, helped his cock back into his slit, and stood. Without a backwards glance, the creature stalked into the low mists of the marsh and disappeared.
Still in shock, Tucker shakily ripped off his tank top to clean up the embarrassing mess the beast left behind. He balled the soiled shirt in his hands and tossed it in the Elite’s direction, then curled against the dry part of his sleeping bag.
No one had to know, he thought to himself.
No one would ever know.
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Tucker/his baby-daddy
Warnings: EXTREMELY dubious Elite sex. Beware?
Summary: How to make a Tuckerspawn. Pure, uncut crack-smut.
* * *
Tucker felt something hot and wet slide over the back of his neck. It stung. What the fuck? Mostly asleep, he tried to reach up to touch the wet patch of skin and was roughly shoved into the soft marsh soil by massive four fingered hands.
The alien settled itself gently on Tucker’s back, light purple tongue extending to further lap at the exposed flesh at the soldier’s neck. Tucker whimpered. What the hell was happening?
“Crunchbite?” He whispered, eyes wide and muscles taut with fear, pushing feebly against the ground. The alien churred and nibbled contently at the saliva drenched skin beneath him, stretching out its muscled digitigrade legs on either side of Tucker’s body.
“Woark,” the Elite growled and resumed its licking.
The stinging on the back of his neck faded to a dull, aching pulse of heat that swam in his stomach and made the soldier’s pupils dilate, thick and black, with arousal.
Oh fuck no. Seriously? Is this seriously happening right now? One part of Tucker’s drugged brain was focused on the moral, physical and fucking *gross* implications of what was taking place. Unfortunately, the other, more important parts were being turned into titillated mush.
With a few movements that Tucker’s numbed body didn’t even register, the alien tugged down the Spartan’s sleeping bag and rucked up his tank top, moving its mandibles down to the soft plot of skin between the man’s shoulder blades. The pointed tongue traced a line down the Blue’s spine, leaving a sticky, warm trail of tingling drool in its wake.
Eventually the band of Tucker’s sweats stopped the alien’s advance. Smirking at the flimsy barrier, Crunchbite lifted one of his hands from the soldier’s back and easily pulled the pants up and over the curve of his ass and down his thighs
Tucker miserably stifled a small groan of desire and shifted his hips, grinding his cock into the lining of the sleeping bag. A tiny part of his mind was still aware and completely horrified at his own actions. The rest, again, was quite satisfied being gently pet by the hulking alien crouched over him. The creature’s hands wove a quick pattern from his shoulders, down his back, over his ass and came to rest at the top of his thighs. Tucker felt wetness drip into his crack, hotter than the thing’s spit, slicker, and much, much more frightening.
In a surge of terror-inspired strength, Tucker gripped the sleeping bag and hunched to the side, peering over his shoulder.
The alien stiffened in mild surprise, gripping the soldier’s thighs tightly. Its serpentine neck flexed as it cocked the small, armored head. One beady eye stared down at him in curiosity and suspicion. But Tucker wasn’t focused on the creature’s face. His gaze was pinned between its legs.
A long, pointed shaft was beginning to slip from a swollen slit in the alien’s groin. It bobbed, dark pink and glistening with a viscous clear fluid that leaked profusely from the tip, over the globes of Tucker’s ass and directly onto his exposed pucker.
*No!*, the alert portion of his brain cried. Crunchbite simply chuckled and pressed down on Tucker’s thighs, spreading them apart as it pushed the thin head of its cock inside the paralyzed Spartan.
It was slippery and hot and *God*, was it wrong that a thick, smooth dick working its way into his numbed asshole felt so good? Tucker clamped down on the invading member with whatever inner muscles he could still work, but that merely caused the alien to let out a gurgle of pleasure and push impossibly deeper inside of him.
The Spartan’s pale skin was flushed pink at the cheeks and where Crunchbite’s hands were holding him down. Blue, mottled hide covered the fingers that dug into his hips, making him look even smaller and whiter than he really was against the huge, armored frame of the alien warrior.
It moved, sliding its cock in and out of his ass with soft, slick noises. Then, oh god, then Tucker could feel it, the tiny ridges near the head as it popped in and out of his anus, dragging along his insides and bumping firmly against his prostate. The thick base of the thing’s shaft spreading him wider than he’d ever been, more open than any straight man should be spread. Chrunchbite’s pace was steady, slow, a deliberate pull and push, flex and drag of its hips as it knelt, growling near Tucker’s ear and moved its hands to clutch the fabric near Tucker’s head.
*Yes*. Fuck, yes. More more, it’s good, Fuck you, it’s good, you bastard, it’s good, why, please, hard-
Complying to his mortifying inner pleas, the alien pressed its body flush with the private’s, lifted its hips, and slammed down into the receptive body beneath it. Over, and over, and over.
Tucker howled.
Chrunchbite held him close and grinned, breeding the human like he had the females on his homeworld. The boy was so soft, so smooth and salty and tight around him, and he was making tiny, frightened sounds of pleasure that only spurred the alien to hump faster into his loosened hole. As lost as he was in the human’s heat, he still watched him closely for signs that the sedative was wearing off. When the Spartan arched his back and started pushing to meet his thrusts, then blindly reached down to grasp his own cock, Crunchbite merely purred.
“Worge-woark,” he rumbled, lapped his tongue over the human’s cheek, and closed his eyes.
Tucker was sweating and moaning and feeling like some filthy Louisiana whore being fucked raw out in the wetlands by a mutated gator-man. He twisted his wrist, jacking himself off furiously as the Elite sped its pace, knowing what was about to happen and knowing, hating, that he was about to enjoy the fuck out of it.
And then he did it. Tucker whimpered and shot thick, messy ropes of come over his hand and the sleeping bag.
The alien roared, cock jumping and spitting against the spasms rippling inside the Spartan’s body. It was hot. Tucker swallowed against the slutty groans he wanted to make. Hot, and there was so much, and it was twisting up his insides so *good* and slipping out of his ass and *oh, fucking jesus* sliding over his empty balls and onto his softening prick. He could feel it, every spurt of semen as the giant cock inside him twitched and pulsed until it had nothing left.
Someone, kill me.
The warrior panted hard, breath blasting over Tucker’s ear and heart thumping solidly against the human’s back. When he was sure that every last bit of his seed had been given, he slowly slid out and nestled back on his knees. The human turned gingerly onto his side and looked up at him with a violated and questioning stare. The Elite’s mandibles rubbed over each other as he thought of something to say.
“Worg?”
Tucker blinked. Crunchbite shrugged, helped his cock back into his slit, and stood. Without a backwards glance, the creature stalked into the low mists of the marsh and disappeared.
Still in shock, Tucker shakily ripped off his tank top to clean up the embarrassing mess the beast left behind. He balled the soiled shirt in his hands and tossed it in the Elite’s direction, then curled against the dry part of his sleeping bag.
No one had to know, he thought to himself.
No one would ever know.