"Is it true what they say about green women?"

    "We reproduce asexually," Kreska said flatly instead of answering, and the human furrowed his brow, squinted at her in confusion. "I got thorns an' all my fluids're like menthol, I'll give ya poison ivy rashes - it's all true."

    That wasn't what they said about green women, but it was what Kreska wanted them to say. If she'd been full Jobari, it might have been true. She tilted back her bottle, bright blue glass filled with a soda that - in a fortunate turn of events - was mildly intoxicating to the Jobari. Even less intoxicating for a half-Jobari, but she'd take what she could get. Until she turned twenty, at least, until she could get as far away from this station as a ship would carry her.

    "You don't have to be such a bitch about it," he said, a blonde not much older than she was, and she snorted in disdain. Always the blondes who said shit like that, not that brunettes were much better.

    Kreska had a vague hope that it was unique to this station, this particular strain of human male douchebaggery. She'd seen enough movies to know that it probably wasn't, but it was good to dream. Had he really grown up here, the man they called her father? How could he possibly have tolerated it?

    Or maybe he'd been one of those men. Maybe he'd gotten better when he left. Maybe he only pretended to be better for the cameras.

    Kreska leaned back on the stoop where she had settled herself, looked up at the clouds and the sprawl of buildings past them. Spiraling streets and identical rooftops, suburbs hovering above her head. If she didn't get on the hopper, soon, her guardians would start to wonder where she was.

    "I like that," came a voice from the sidewalk, and Kreska furrowed her brow suspiciously at the source. He looked almost the usual teenage sack of hormones, except that his skin was a mottled purple, tusks sticking upward out of his mouth and an extra thumb on the wrong side of each hand. His species was easy enough to determine, which meant he probably got even more shit than she did. "D'you know what they say 'bout purple men?"

    She'd never actually heard anything about purple men, not in the way that they said things about green women. Slowly, she shook her head.

    "Purple feet," he said, with a sage nod.

    It took her a minute.

    She snorted a laugh despite herself, hiding her grin behind the back of her hand.

    "Ya don't live 'round here, do ya? I'd recognize ya if ya did." He hitched all four thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, and she wondered if his jacket was real leather.

    She was wary, but she almost-smiled at him anyway, scratched the side of her head. "Naw," she admitted, pointing above them with the hand that was against her head, fingers forming an 'L' shape as she did it. "I live straight up."

    He whistled as he looked above them, yellow eyes and rectangular pupils. "Your family must be loaded."

    "They're not my family," she corrected too quickly, before looking down at her bottle again. "But, I mean - yeah. Ain't poor. Rather live here, tho."

    "I'd rather ya lived here, too," he said, with a waggle of thick eyebrows, and she snorted again. "So what's your good half?"

    She grinned at the way he asked it. "Jobari," she admitted, and he whistled.

    "Didn't know they made 'em in halvsies," he said, which was not quite the response she'd expected. "I won't try t' kill ya if ya won't try t' kill me," he added, which was much more in line with her expectations.

    "Didn't know they made N'sazz in halvsies, either," she observed, trying to sound casual.

    "'S m'mom's the N'sazz," he said, hasty but not abrupt, "'fore ya go gettin' ideas 'bout the nature o' their relationship."

    "Can ya do anythin' cool?" Kreska asked, changing the subject, because she'd heard stories about the things N'sazz could do. Everyone had.

    "Shred like hell onna ghee-tar," he answered, wiggling the fingers not inside his pockets. He stepped closer, then sat down next to her on the stoop, mimicking her posture. "You?"

    "Durin' Phys Ed I smell like a pack o' gum."

    "What about th' thorns an' th' rashes?" he teased, nudging her in the side with his elbow.

    "Anybody asks, I gotta rosebush 'tween m' legs," she warned, nudging him back much harder. She took a swig of her soda, and he held out a hand; without needing to ask, she handed him the bottle.

    "Th' hell ya think we're gonna be doin'," he wondered, "folk're gonna be askin' me 'boutcher legs an' what's between 'em?" He took a sip of her drink, then handed it back to her. "I swear humans're th'only ones can drink that ish an' not have it mess 'em up. Y'ain't gotta tell people I gotta monster dick, errybody already knows that."

    "What the hell," she said, but she was laughing as she said it, and he gave her a tusky grin.

    "How long 'til ya gotta hop?" he asked.

    She thought about it for just a bit too long. "Fuck it," she decided finally, "they call an' I'll tell 'em I'm stayin' for a midcycle movie. Ain't like they'll think t'check. Thinkin' o' anythin' in particular?"

    "Refinery not far from here," he said, indicating the direction with a jerk of his head. "Ain't got shit for security. Get on one o' th' towers an' it's a nice view o' th' preserve. I gotta interstellar receiver, picks up signals from basically the whole sector. There's a numbers station playin' out from a dead rock not far from th' station, creepy as balls."

    "Shee-it, yanno just how t' show a girl a good time," she said, and she meant it. "Y'ain't asked, but I'm Kreska."

    "Fuck me, did I forget about names again? You can just call me 'monster dick'."

    "Hell no."

    "Hot stuff?"

    "Nope."

    "Captain Tightpants."

    "Does this literally ever work?"

    "Okay, fine - it's Nolan."

    "Holy shit, wow, yeah, that's awful."

    "Fuck you," he said, shoving her shoulder as he stood. "Some of us got named by humans."

    "No worries," she said reassuringly as she followed suit, "I'll come up with somethin' better t' call ya."

    "Yanno if we had kids, they'd technically be half-human?"

    "For fuck's sake, Lala, why wouldja say that? Th' fuck's wrong witchoo?"

    "I'm just sayin', is all," Nolan said with a shrug.

    Kreska was in no mood for such hypotheticals, currently straddling her best friend's lap and trying to figure out if it was feasible to get their genitals to fit together. "Keep talkin' 'bout spawnin' an' this ain't ever happenin'," she said with a scowl, sticking a hand between their hips to feel the outline of his erection against his jeans.

    "Cartoon rules say we'd have a green boy an' a purple girl," he added, despite her protestation.

    "Oh, ew, forget this," she said, shoving against his chest and preparing to swing her legs off of him. He stuck two fingers into the top of her jeans to stop her, and reached up to squeeze one of her breasts. Being in proportion with the rest of her, they weren't very large, and the size of his hands didn't help matters.

    "Your nipples're hard," he pointed out with a grin, and she shoved him again.

    "It's cold," she said, but he just kept feeling through the thin fabric of her shirt.

    "It'll prolly fit, if you're nervous," he added, which helped not at all.

    "I'm not scared," she said, peeling off her jacket to prove the point.

    "I never said scared, I said nervous." He unbuttoned her jeans with entirely too much ease, and slid a hand inside them to rub between her legs. She yelped in surprise as his fingers found a sensitive spot, and his other hand wrapped around her thigh to hold her in his lap. "You are so bad at this," he teased.

    "Fuck you," she said between her teeth, leaning forward to brace her hands against his shoulders.

    "That was the plan," he agreed, and a finger slid inside her, hooked forward as his other hand went back to fondling her chest. "Ya kinda do smell like a pack o' gum," he added.

    "You're th' one who's bad at this. Who th' hell says that kinda shit?" She dug her fingers into his skin, pressed dimples into the lean muscles there and wished she had fingernails long enough to claw at him. His finger was moving in long, slow strokes, entirely too well-practiced for someone only a year older than she was. With the hand between her legs he tugged her higher on his torso, lifted her top so he could lean closer and lick one of her nipples. "Ah! Fuck."

    "Kinda taste minty, too. Swear too much, tho, 's'like fuckin' a prospector'r some shit." He took the entirety of one of her breasts in his mouth, and his tusks felt cold against her skin.

    "Do not," she protested, and instinctively she tried to tangle her fingers in his hair, only to recoil at the amount of grease he used in it. "Oh, goddammit, ya stupid fuck, now'm all sticky."

    "Kinda 'head o' schedule, but I was figgurin' on gettin' y'all sticky eventually," he said, and his breath felt strange against her skin where his mouth had been. She was going to smack him upside the head, but then he pushed a second finger inside her, and she bucked so hard she nearly fell backward. "You're gonna miss me," he accused, rolling suddenly so that she was pinned to the metal beneath him.

    "Ain't nothin' t' miss," she scoffed, even as she squirmed, wiped her hands on her thighs and propped herself up on her elbows to watch him unbutton his jeans one-handed. "Not gonna be gone that long 'fore I join ya."

    He made a noncommittal noise as he freed his erection, and if Kreska hadn't been trapped on his fingers she might have pulled herself away from him.

    "Th' fuck! No, hell no, no goddamn way that's gonna fit, what th' hell."

    He laughed, and his fingers didn't stop moving inside her, making her gasp and quiver despite herself. "Dunno why you're actin' so surprised, I been tellin' ya for two years now I gotta monster dick."

    "I thoughtcha were talkin' shit! Ya didn't say ya were fuckin' serious."

    "I'm always serious 'bout my dick."

    It wasn't just the size of it that was the problem, though that would have been bad enough. It was the fact that it looked armored, dark grey plating forming ridges down the length of it. It looked like something he might use in his spare time to knock down castle fortifications.

    "That is not gonna fit."

    "I can make it fit," he said, and then laughed at the look of incredulity on her face, kissed her much more clumsily than he touched her. Kissing was hard, with tusks in the way. "Don'tcha trust me?"

    "Th' lasstime ya said that, y'were tryin' t' sneak me into a concert in your duffel."

    "… it worked, dinnit?"

    "Woulda been great if ya'd remember'd t' lemme out."

    "This'll be different. Never broke any o' my exes." She really didn't want to think about that, about him fucking human girls who treated him like a novelty, of pretty pink-skinned girls with pink parts whose sweat tasted like salt. He pulled her shirt higher so he could see both her breasts as she squirmed, licked at them with his tongue wide and flat.

    "Your exes were human. They were bigger'n me."

    "Ain't bigger on the inside," he said, free hand tugging her jeans down so he could see what he was doing. "'Sides, Jobari girls're tough."

    "Th'fuck you know 'bout Jobari girls?" she hissed between her teeth, as he peeled the last of the denim away from her skin, ran the thumbs of his right hand along the outside of her.

    "I know you," he pointed out, wrapping her legs around his waist, "an' I looked some stuff up."

    "For fuck's sake, Lala, if y'were lookin' at green girl porn–"

    "Know your enemy. Or your fuckbuddy. 'S basic tactics." His thumbs did something, then, stroked just so, and she felt something strange and hot and throbbing between her legs that she'd never felt before. Her back arched, eyes wide, and she gasped for air as pleasure seemed to shoot straight through to her fingertips. "See?" he said with a grin. "You've been fuckin' like a human this whole time."

    "Have not," she lied, trying to look down to see what exactly he'd done, to figure out what her body was doing.

    His thumbs did something again, and her whole body shuddered, eyes nearly rolling back in her head. "You're all floral an' shit," he said with a grin, which was not the explanation he seemed to think it was. "Got petals an' errything."

    She wanted to yell at him, mock him, something, but her brain didn't seem to be functioning and her body wasn't doing much better. She'd thought she was full, but somehow he pushed a third finger inside of her, pumping in and out of her while his thumbs continued to do whatever the hell they were doing. The sounds she was making weren't quite screams, incoherent and ragged and gasping.

    He leaned down to kiss her neck, hand sliding over her breasts while he nuzzled at her hair. "Yanno, you're kinda pretty when ya can't talk," he teased. She tried to tell him to go fuck himself, but she made a mewling noise instead, wrapping her arms around his neck and arching toward him. Her vision went white, her body stiff, fireworks behind her eyes until she went limp and shivery.

    "You're a real asshole," she said finally, a hoarse whisper.

    "An' you're th' most ungrateful bitch on th' station," he laughed, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. She half-laughed and half-moaned as his fingers slid out of her, the hard head of his cock pressing against her in their stead.

    "Still don' think it'll fit," she said, almost petulant.

    "It'll fit," he said, and she bit her lip to stifle a tiny cry as he began to inch himself deeper inside her. "Think've earned th' right t' try, anyway. Ya can always tell me if ya can't handle it."

    "You insufferable shit," she hissed, because of course he'd try to make it sound like a challenge. Nolan brought his hand to his mouth and began to very pointedly lick at his fingers, looking very self-satisfied.

    "Y'remind me o' that green ice cream – 'cept without th' chocolate. Shoulda brought chocolate. Kinda tingly, too." He grinned, sucking on his fingertips.

    "Y'ain't th' first person t' make th' brilliant observation, dipshit," she said, tapping her hand against the side of his face rather than actually hitting him. Still, there was something different about it when he said it, and somehow that annoyed her.

    "Don' even joke," he warned, stopping what he was doing to catch Kreska's wrist. "Seriously," he added, eyes catching hers.

    She furrowed her brow, looked to where his hand was wrapped around almost half her forearm. "… 'bout hittin' ya? Cuz I know I've hitcha harder'n that–"

    "That's different," he said, letting her go to prop one hand beside her head, the other sliding underneath her thigh to hold her leg. "Jus' – it's a thing, okay?" His hips began to move again, still achingly slow, impossibly large and impossible hard. She could feel every bump and every ridge, and it was only halfway in when he began to rock his hips, tiny thrusts that still made her groan.

    "Oh, nonono, you're not gettin' outta explainin' that easy," she said, as if there was anything easy at all about trying to accommodate him. "What kinda thing?"

    "Really? Y'wanna play twenty questions right now?" He emphasized the question by thrusting slightly harder, slightly deeper than he had before. She stifled a scream, and very nearly hit him again on principle.

    "What, ya mad?" she asked incredulously, and when he rolled his eyes she grinned. She knew his face well enough by now to know that an eyeroll that dramatic could only possibly mean that she was right. "You're embarrassed," she said gleefully, though this smugness was undercut when he thrust hard again to make her yelp. "It's some purple goat sex thing, innit? Ya been gettin' turned on errytime I smack ya inna head'r somethin'?"

    "I swear t' fuck, Kreska," he said, though he was grinning as he said it, "I been real well-behaved, but don't think for one second I won't rail ya 'til ya can't fuckin' walk."

    "Oh, please, you're a big fuckin' softie," she began, but was cut off with a reminder that in certain areas, he was still very hard. She squeaked and snarled, back arching and hips tilting. He pressed a hand to her stomach, leaned his face in close to hers.

    "D'ya think if I get it all th' way in, I'll be able t' feel it?"

    She punched him in the jaw almost as a reflex, the peculiar familiar intimacy that had developed as a result of her essential inability to do him any real harm. His response this time was immediate, ramming his hips as close to hers as physically possible, growling and opening his mouth wide around her throat so that the points of his tusks pressed into her skin. She screamed in earnest, this time, head falling backward and spine curving, knees digging into his sides.

    "Don't fucking do that," he snarled against her skin, and she felt short of breath, heart racing. "Fuck's sake, I don't mind most o' th' time, but not now." He ran his tongue over her throat, pulled her shirt up over her head and wound it around his hand to trap her arms, licking her collarbones. His hips resumed their gentle rocking, and her heartbeat throbbed between her legs, against the cock inside her. "I'm tryna be nice, dammit."

    "I dunno if you're anatomically capable o' nice," she said through her teeth, trying to pull her hands free and failing.

    "God, don't – don't fucking struggle, what the fuck d'you think you're doin'?" His hips bucked erratically, involuntarily, and he sounded so put-upon that Kreska couldn't help but laugh.

    "You're into some fucked-up shit, Lala," she said, and she nipped experimentally at the air between them. He growled and bit back as a reflex, then scowled at her when he realized what she'd done.

    "No, you're just th'only girl who hits me when we're tryna fuck," he countered, and the hand not holding hers slid down to where their bodies met, did that same strange thing that his thumbs had been doing. She whimpered and rolled her hips, pleasure darting up her spine, muscles moving that she hadn't even been aware of possessing. She seemed almost to draw him in deeper as he touched her, and he grinned. "Toldja it'd fit."

    Her inability to slap him was extraordinarily frustrating.

    "If you've been lettin' me hitcha cuz it gives ya a hard-on, Imma be pissed."

    "Just sometimes," he admitted easily, sliding his hand out from between her legs and up her stomach instead. He pressed down and thrust, grinning again as she cried out and squirmed. "Felt it," he added, leaning down to nuzzle at her hair.

    "You're fuckin' gross," she asserted, though rocking her hips somewhat undercut the point she was trying to make.

    "Ain't like I been rippin' your clothes off tryna assert dominance'r anythin'," he added, as if this was the only possibly reason she could object.

    "Yeah, 'til now."

    "This ain't rippin' or assertin' nothin'," he scoffed, pressing his lips to her neck. "This's special circumstances."

    "What, cuz I'm only gonna see ya in chats for th' next year?" she scoffed, as if that alone wouldn't have been enough. The gentle rocking of his hips ceased, and he sighed, breath hot in her hair. "What?"

    "Not goin' to a colony," he grunted more than said, "'m joinin' up with a service."

    Kreska froze, and for the first time she almost forgot the anatomical impossibility currently in progress. "Real fuckin' funny," she said finally, "tellin' me not t' hitcha'n then sayin' shit t' make me." Nolan said nothing, but began to rock his hips again, thrusting just a little more vigorously than he had before. Her gasp was half arousal and half indignation, fire in her eyes. "You shittin' me? Ya waited 'til ya were balls-deep 'fore tellin' me this shit? This is your bullshit idea've how t' break th' news t' somebody?"

    "Seemed like a good idea at th' time," he said flatly through gritted teeth, pulling out a little farther to thrust back in a little harder. Yellow eyes met her green ones, almost a dare. The fact that the distraction almost worked only made her angrier. And her arms were still trapped, so she couldn't even shove him, couldn't even punch him again.

    So she headbutted him.

    It probably hurt her forehead more than it hurt his nose, quite frankly. It definitely hurt more once he roared, released her hands so he could wrap a hand around her throat. His other hand went to her hip to hold her still, ramming into her and snarling. She snarled back, splaying her hands over his chest to shove at him. "You're such an asshole."

    He adjusted his position, hands on her thighs as he leaned back, his body at an angle from hers. The loss of his warmth and his touch were almost as annoying as the fact that it was her fault for shoving him. "I was tryin' t'be nice," he protested, "but somebody kept hittin' me."

    "That's not what I meant," she muttered, crossing her arms petulantly over her chest.

    Nolan snorted a laugh. "Really? You're gonna try t' pout when you're all fulla dick?" He stroked between her legs, and a tiny cry escaped her despite herself, arms uncrossing to reach for him.

    "That's cheating," she protested weakly, and he laughed, drew circles in strange places to make her gasp and arch. He slid his cock half out of her, still stroking, and she mewled and bucked her hips to try and pull him back in.

    "… it really kinda is," he agreed, voice husky and low, sliding his hands under her legs to lift them higher. "God damn, Kreska," he breathed, touching her again as he thrust harder, her whole body moving as she writhed beneath him. "You're so fuckin' lucky I'm leavin', yanno that? How th' fuck's a girl so prickly feel so fuckin' good?"

    Any other time, she would have had a comeback for that. But something seemed to change whenever he touched her like that, made her forget everything that wasn't aching and wanting and throbbing. She arched and rocked in time with his thrusts, crying out each time he drove into her, hands trying and failing to dig into the metal beneath her. When he adjusted his position again, hands on either side of her head, she gripped his forearms as if holding on for dear life.

    "God, I wish I could just take ya with me," he swore heatedly, running his teeth over the exposed curve of her neck. "Shove ya in my bag an' hide ya in my bunk, an' every break I had I'd be doin' this." He leaned down to lick her nipples, hand sliding down to squeeze one breast while he sucked on the other. His hips were slamming into hers, growling and snarling while she whimpered and screamed, and then there were fireworks behind her eyes again, a strange explosion of nothingness and light.

    She fell off her peak just as he hit his, cock shuddering and spasming inside her, making her scream again. Heat flooded her insides, pooled against the skin of her abdomen as he pulled out, and she squeaked indignantly as he collapsed on top of her. He was not quite heavy enough to crush her, at least, and she was grateful for the warmth if nothing else. She listened to him breathe as her heartbeat slowed, tempted to snuggle against him.

    "… you're still an asshole."

    He laughed, and pinned on top of her it shook her, making her smile though he couldn't see it. "You're impossible. Ain't gonna miss ya even a l'il."

    "Agreed."