A soft bliping noise escaped a certain alien, odd eyes narrowing in a somewhat lonely sigh. Long fingers stroked the keys of a black-and-white piano, just like everything else in the small, bare-boned ship that made his world. Masada-Sensei played a few notes with his slender fingers, before his knees wobbled and buckled, the rest of the slim, lanky body crashing down onto the floor of the ship. To say he was exhausted would be an understatement. He needed sleep and so forced himself up, black hair framing his face as white as everything around him.
Left, right, left, right, he took tired but determined steps to his bed and pulled the covers over him, closing his eyes, one facing down and the other facing upwards, both facing outwards. The room darkened slowly, following his consciousness as he began to drift. However, the continuous darkening stopped at a certain point, for even if he was as tired as he was, he could not sleep. If he left his bed, the lights would only come back on. Sighing in the relative darkness, he knew only one cure for his inability to sleep.
Masada-Sensei carefully slipped off his body-tight clothing, his body warming to the sensation of quilt on his bare skin. One hand stroked over his chest and belly, touching and feeling every bone and he closed his eyes to heighten the sensations. Around him, the piano echoed a haunting tone, his mind slowly fading from thought and onto pure sensations. He made no noise now, though out of instinct or something else he did not know, now did he care at that moment, for his free hand was finding something stirring between his legs.
Quickly, the man reached down and rubbed at a slit between his legs, reaching inwards and pulling out a dripping and wet , but hard, phallic piece of flesh. The sensation made him buck his hips upwards, body tensing as he heated up even further. His chest began to fall up and down, as if he was rapidly breathing, though he produced no noises of his breathing. Still silent, but obviously pleasured, one would have to wonder if he would cry out with pleasure if he was physically able to. He shuddered as that hand now began to busy itself with stroking his hard cock, dripping in his own bodily fluids, his other hand tweaking his nipples before also reaching down, long fingers coating themselves with his own fluids.
After all, he had no spit to use. With the careful ministrations and dexterity of a piano professional, his free hand busied itself finding Masada-Sensei's secondary entrance, carefully slipping one finger in, then two. It felt weird, but... He dug a little deeper, body shuddering as he found a certain spot within him that made his cock weep and twitch. His hands now busied themselves with pleasuring him, and he could only do nothing but want more. Animalistic, his pace increased and his body began to overheat, sweating.
Close, close, he just wanted to finish now. Enough with experiencing pleasure, he wanted the ultimate reward for his efforts. The piano player threw his head back as if to shout, eyes closed tightly, yet still no sound came from him and his hands moved even faster, just as they would fly upon his keys. His body shook and shuddered with the pleasures, and yet it was still not enough, not enough yet. He jabbed and massaged his prostate and his other hand clutched and pumped at his cock tightly, both merciless in their attentions. Finally, a heated coil, intense and aflame began to burn in his abdomen, and he felt as if he would be sick from the fire boiling him alive from the inside.
The fire grew, threatening to explode, and then with his body almost cramping from the tenseness, Masada froze on the very brink of a cliff between pleasure and the end. He leaned over, he fell into the blackness, and suddenly his body moved again, shuddering hard enough to make the covers over him shift and shake. His eyes were screwed shut, as if he was screaming. Satisfied, his one hand withdrew from his behind, and the other gently pushed his now-soft penis back into the slit between his legs. Tears from the overwhelming feeling lingered on his cheeks and flowed downwards, staining the white sheets with black ink droplets. He shifted a little, away from the spot of wetness. When he would awaken, he would take care of that, for now... he was exhausted and sated.
The room darkened further, and the piano player finally found sleep.