So I decided to answer my own prompt of Wikus unknowingly molesting Christopher via antenna-stroking. I never thought I'd be writing D9 slash fic, but, well, here we are.
X-posted to plus4chan's District 9 thread (I fooking love you guys,seriously) and the district_nine community
Title: Lessons in Prawn Anatomy
Rating: PG-13 (it's pretty suggestive)
Pairing: Christopher/Semi-Human Wikus
Warning(s): It's a fooking District 9 slash fic, I mean goddamn
Summary: "How’ll these feel, I wonder…” Wikus muttered. He brought up his right, human hand, and stroked Christopher’s antenna from tip to base.
When he began his work at MNU, Wikus had found that Prawns, though not unbearable, were a bit on the ugly side. Having recently been doomed to become a Prawn himself, he was sad to discover that this opinion had not changed.
His disgust with his soon-to-be new body was quickly overtaken by a curiosity. How would the clicking language feel when he spoke? How different would walking be with large, narrow legs?
And how would those fooking antenna feel?
As a child, he’d always been interested by bugs and beetles, and the antenna were always his favorite part. He loved to watch them twist and wriggle and feel all over, and watching the Prawns, he noticed that their antenna (if they could really be called antenna) were strikingly similar to the antenna of the bugs he would follow around as a kid.
Near his side, Christopher worked on one of the computers in his tiny shack. CJ played with some bottles (“Rockets!” he’d insisted) near the end of the room. Wikus turned to look at Christopher, his back to Wikus, and was instantly and irrevocably fascinated with the twitching antenna of the broad alien. They were almost hypnotizing, the way they moved around, seemingly with a life of their own. It must be like having another whole sense, Wikus thought, fascinated.
Mesmerized, he stood up and wandered over to Christopher. The Prawn did not take notice, continuing to work on his machines. “How’ll these feel, I wonder…” Wikus muttered. He brought up his right, human hand, and stroked Christopher’s antenna from tip to base.
Wikus didn’t notice. He stroked the antenna again, slower than before, and made a thoughtful humming noise in his throat. Christopher gripped the work-table. “What…what are you doing?”
Wikus glanced at him, his fingers stopping mid-stroke. “I was just curious about—being a Prawn, I guess. I wanted to know how, y’know, it’d feel.” He went back to stroking the antenna. “I can stop if it bothers you.”
Wikus tweaked the tip of Christopher’s antenna.
Turning a darker shade of green, Christopher began to babble. “No, no, it’s alright. It’s important for you to—to get used to the feeling of b-being us.” Wikus seemed to agree, as he promptly continued his stoking motions.
Several moments of quiet bliss passed before Christopher decided to speak up. “…you could rub the base a little.” God, this was embarrassing.
Wordlessly, Wikus complied.
“Yeah, the base does feel kind of different than the rest.” He rubbed the area slowly, thoughtfully, failing to notice how much quicker Christopher began breathing or how the alien had started to lean into the touch.
Christopher decided to try his luck with the ignorant human again.
“If you squeeze the tip in your palm and bend it slightly, you’ll notice a, ah, very interesting texture..”
Wikus, again, complied. Christopher purred. It had been so unbearably long since someone had touched him like this, it drove him absolutely mad…
Just as he was contemplating whether Wikus would listen to a command of “lick it,” CJ spoke up.
“Hey! I’m still in here!” He glared at his father, who looked extremely embarrassed. Wikus was confused.
“Yeah? So? You want me to learn about kid-Prawn anatomy, too?
For the life of him, Wikus could not understand why Christopher chose that moment to punch him in the arm.