Disclaimer: I do not own nor profit from District 9, its story, characters or franchise.

A/N: this'll be the last chapter for a while. Don't know if it was better not to post it at all, but figured I'd warn you guys first. Read at your own risk.


"Christopher..." Wikus trailed uneasily, eyeing the other, bigger Prawn as though he meant to devour him whole. Those ruby eyes sent a shudder down his spine.

"Enough of this, Wikus." Christopher clicked deeply, stomping further into the room, forcing the hybrid deeper into the confines of his shack, "I tire of this game."

"Game? W-what game, Christopher? I assure you, I am playing no game here." Wikus stumbled nervously, righting himself as he paid no heed to the useless pan that clattered at his feet, resuming his backpedaling. This was bad.

Fookin' bad.

He had never seen the green dominant like this before.

He wasn't sure what he had done wrong.

And it must have showed in his faceplates, because Christopher stopped -mercifully- in his tracks, to click slowly and gratingly, "The gray Poleepkwa."

"Yes, what about him?" Wikus replied, voice on edge.

"You went and shared his meal."

"...I uh... See no problems with that Christopher. What's the prob-" Wikus started to click irritatingly. So much nuisance and trouble, over such a small matter?

But Christopher cut him off, to hiss scathingly, "WITHOUT. *Me*." He took a menacing step forward, "Your *guardian*."

"Oh, Uh..." Wikus gulped, realizing he must've stepped over some major cultural boo boo. He tried to keep distance between him and the advancing Prawn, but the tin wall resounded loudly against his back.

Christopher seemed bigger. Stronger.

He closed the distance swiftly, before Wikus had a chance to dart to safety. Not that he believed he could make it to the door.

He wanted to curl into himself as the green dominant caged him in, arms on either side, tentacles pressing against the wall.

"I'm... sorry?" Wikus squeaked.

Those ruby eyes stared hard down at him, the trembling of barely held control present along the green leader's hardened exterior.

Christopher rumbled three words that sealed Wikus's doom, "Not good enough."

The hybrid's feelers twitched, scenting the sudden overwhelming amount of pheromones in the air. Released by Christopher himself. Wikus gaped.

He tensed, "Wait- Christophe- no don't!"

Then he was keening, mewling from the tentacles that prodded at his slit. Perhaps it may have been slow at one point, but the dominant was angered. And coiled to pound the hybrid to oblivion. He did not heed Wikus's beginning plea to stop. He doubted he could stop now, even if he wanted to.

But he needed this.

Ever since he had met the little hybrid, his dominant blood had been calling out for him. Needing to make the stubborn man submit. Christopher had only received an inkling of his true desire, something his body had known all along, when he had seen Wikus in his true form as a Poleepkwa.

Midnight onyx coloring. Sapphire blue splashes of color highlighting all the right areas of his hardened carapace. Slender build. Mismatched eyes. The fire in his very soul.


Christopher flashed back to the hybrid trembling on the ground, keening for help. Calling out for anyone. Though he did not know what he asked for.

For protection. The shared warmth of a nest. The hardened rod of his insatiable protector.

It had been a test of Christopher's very mettle -and his very patience- to resist that call.

It was also very lucky it had been Christopher to reach him first.

Lucky for Wikus.

And... apparently for Christopher Johnson himself.

Now he had the hybrid pinned against the tin shack wall, free hand in between those trembling legs, delving into the wondrously wet slit of the Poleepkwa he had been yearning for for weeks. He relished the gasp he wrenched from the hybrid as he teased the moist lips. The quivering of those slackened mandibles, as if the man was fighting for words. He still struggled, pushing against the stronger Prawn, though his movements jerked at each spasm of pleasure Christopher gave with a mere twitch of his tentacles, exploring the depths of Wikus's virgin cloaca. The mere thought of this most intimate of spots, left for him alone to indulge himself, drove the dominant to growl in pleasure.

Scenting the slight nervous tension in the air, Christopher leaned down, brushing his feelers tenderly against Wikus's. The sense of butterfly kisses made the hybrid shiver.

Wikus blinked up at the other, so close his vision was filled with nothing but those ruby orbs. He could almost taste the incredible restraint Christopher was making to slow the pace of what was starting to feel like the inevitable. Thankfully, Christopher had withdrawn his hand, otherwise Wikus may not have room for coherent thoughts right then.

"This will not be like with the others." Christopher crooned, as though to calm him.

Realizing that the dominant did not want to hurt him took away Wikus's trepidation. But with its absence, came another surge of emotion. Anger.

When backed into a corner, Wikus had the knack of raising his hackles and putting up a fight. With Christopher, it was no different.

As much as his body yearned to be under the dominant, he would not yeild so easily.

"Don't take that tone with ME, Christopher Johnson. You may be top dog around here, but I am not some Prawn to be swooned under your fookin' cock." Wikus trilled indignantly, managing to keep his tone steady despite everything.

Christopher blinked, leaning in impossibly closer as he clicked deeply, "That's right, Wikus. You are not just any Prawn. You are *MY* Prawn." He had the resolve of a bulldozer. And Wikus the stubbornness to match.

And that was just how Christopher liked it.

"You will know pleasure greater than any experienced in your human or Poleepkwa form." Christopher's voice clicked sinfully, hand following suit as it trailed down the hybrid's ebony body. Wikus felt his breath hitch, that ruby gaze revealing such promises within their depths, "You will know this, because *I* will show you."

Wikus felt apprehension and adrenaline course through his veins, on top of whatever mystery sensation bubbling underneath it all. He had to act fast.

Gaze darting towards the corner, Wikus gasped, "Oliver?"

Christopher turned-

And the hybrid shoved him, gaining enough of an opening to slip under the dominant's arm. Before Wikus could take two steps, however, a strong green arm hooked around his waist, forcefully manipulating his velocity to the side. While he was knocked easily against a table, his breath lost, the ebony Prawn was surprised to find it did not hurt. He knew the dominant to be more powerful, but he had not realized just how precisely measured the emerald Poleepkwa's control truly was.

Christopher kept the hybrid on the table as he pushed Wikus's torso flat against its surface, his own hips readily pressing against the squirming hybrid's backside.

"Eager to get started with our punishment, Wikus?" That deep voice sent a delicious shiver down the hybrid's spine, the confidence and lust resounding in it affecting Wikus in ways he hadn't believed possible.

Then Christopher did the unthinkable.

He rubbed his unsheathed cock between Wikus's forcibly spread legs, teasing along the perfectly exposed slit from the offered angle. The hybrid cursed the table as his cloaca throbbed deeply with a flood of desire, his own pheromones dancing in the air with the heady scent of Christopher's. Johnson was right. This was not like with the others. With them he had felt an unnamed fear. Intense and uncontrollable as it had wracked his mind and body.

But with Christopher...

The taste of his scent. The feel of his strongly armored body over his own. The dominant's mere presence.

Even as Wikus rebelled against it...

It was as if in the end, Wikus had always wanted this.

Wanted Christopher Johnson.

Fook. Could it be true?

Did he really want Christopher to fook his bloody brains out?

Wikus shivered as the dominant slid his shaft between the hybrid's legs once more, the slit growing wet and Wikus mewling at the electric sensation. Christopher clicked deeply in approval, leaning closer as he purred, "I can taste your need, human. What is it you want?"

"F-Fook, Christopher! You're-you're not gonna make me say it, are you...?" Wikus trailed off, whining as he arched against the table, hips pressing back at another pleasurable grind from behind.

The dominant paused.

Wikus keened.

And Christopher growled lowly, "I have held back from the moment I found you in that shack, Wikus Van de Merwe. I have wanted to ravish-" he ground his shaft against the outside of the hybrid's opening, wrenching a surprised gasp, "-your-" a mewl this time, "-*body*-" and a bone-shuddering groan, "-since that day. You have tested me in ways no other Poleepkwa has, and my blood calls for you to submit under me. Or to mate with you -and not stop- until you do."

Wikus floundered under this newly discovered revelation. Christopher Johnson wanted *him*? The scrawniest and weakest Prawn around. And a hybrid to boot? He had wondered at the strange reactions, the spurts of anger, that he had inspired from the normally in control dominant.

Wikus reassessed his own thoughts. The way he reacted so differently with Christopher. His need to constantly call out for this particular dominant and no one else.

Before he could think, Wikus breathed his next revelation out, "I want you, too?"

The muscled form behind him froze, growing rigid in absolute stillness.

Christopher's voice sounded strangled in its disbelief, demanding, "What did you just say?"

Wikus shivered, wondering if he had just made a huge mistake.

He shook his head in refusal, whimpering.

But Christopher would not accept that, rolling his hips forcefully along the desirable backside of the stubborn hybrid, growling, "You will tell me, human. Or I will use your body until you are drained, and exhausted and cannot walk for days."

"And that's a bad thing?" Wikus joked, clamping his mouth shut with his hand before his voice could run off on him again.

He could almost hear the surprise-turned-smug-smirk on the dominant's faceplates, as he teased Wikus's wet opening with just the tip of his shaft, "Then I will simply bring you to the edge, over and over, and never let you cum... until you *do*..."

Wikus flushed heatedly, letting out his own strangled moan at the thought, and at the insistent prodding between his legs. He wouldn't!

Would he...?