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It had to be close to midnight by now, but the moist jungle air was still nearly as warm as it had been during the day. Good news for the lizardfolk and kobolds partying down below. Not so good for me, thought Jeril as sweat dripped down his brow. He trudged up the crude spiral staircase of logs jammed into the sides of a massive tree, trying to ignore the dull ache in his legs. He focused on keeping his grip on the load of stuffed leaves and sloshing, liquor-filled gourds in his arms.

Jeril glanced over the side of the handrail, which was itself just some braided woody vines snaking their way up the tree. A quaint decoration, he thought, though he wouldn't trust his life with it. A soft wind blew up from below, carrying with it the smell of barbecued meats and the sound of heavy drums, laughter, and song. He thought he could hear his brother's laugh in there, though it was more likely Jack had his mouth full of booze, trying to out-drink Krashi and prove once and for all that humans could hold their liquor better than half-orcs. He chuckled at the thought, happy that his friends were having a good time. They were obligated to, after all. You have to make a point of it when the party's being thrown in your honor.

He thought about the whole ordeal they'd been through that day. What a song it would make! The six of them had united the kobold and lizardfolk villages of this neck of the (tropical) woods, convincing them to put aside their old hatreds and band together against the rampaging stone colossus that could destroy the lot of them. They led a small, ragtag army of reptiles to the temple it was guarding, cracked open by a recent earthquake. The army distracted the great stone statue long enough for the adventurers to climb onto it and strap a bomb to its chest. Once the bomb went off, exposing the massive soulgem inside, ropes fitted with grapples were hurled about the colossus to drag it to the ground. A thundering crash shook the forest as it fell, and the chief of the lizardfolk tribe leapt onto it chest to smash the gem with a mighty stone club.

They had been hailed as heroes when the festivities began. A small kobold graciously translated the lizard chief's hissing baritone praises for the conquering heroes. The whole newly-united village had erupted into shouts of joy as the chief's speech concluded, with drums and dance and feasting to follow.

Jack and Krashi had, of course, taken to drinking immediately. They'd even gotten Zender to drop his usual stuffy mage facade and show them how much an elf can party when he puts his mind to it. Elua graciously excused herself to keep tending to the wounded. The old cleric would have a captive audience at whom she could preach the word of Pelor. Everyone was having fun in their own way, it seemed.

Except Kireza.

Jeril had lost track of her soon after the party started. He'd joined the band on stage to accompany their drums and chimes with a bit of magically-amplified lute playing, much to the delight of the younger reptiles. He'd finished three songs before he realized she was gone. His thri-kreen friend had always been rather quiet and shy; maybe the noise was a bit too much for her? He bowed out, gathered a cross-section of the feast to carry to her, and set out looking all over the village.

These huts were the last place he hadn't checked yet. There were sconces set at regular intervals on the railings of the balconies that surrounded each treetop hut. Right now only the ones at each bridge were lit. More logs, these ones laid across the gap between trees, with the same pitiful-looking handrails on either side. He sighed in annoyance. This was no giant stone foot stomping down on his head, sure, but he'd hoped to put death-defying behind him for the day. He tested a log, found it sturdy enough, and carefully crept across.

He thought about Kireza as he walked. He'd gotten to know her quite well in the few short months since he met her. They'd been caught in an goblin ambush in a mountain pass on the edge of the desert. Surrounded, wounded, and out of options; it had looked pretty grim until a sudden flurry of tiny clay pots crashed down from above, blooming into flaming explosions all around them and sending the goblins running scared. An insectoid head poked out from the cliff overhead, asking in broken Common if they were alright. She leapt down, all seven feet of her clad in nothing but a simple leather satchel slung over her shoulder. A few short introductions later Kireza - alchemist, artificer, and tinker - became the sixth member of their group.

At Zender's insistence, Jeril had taken on the role of language tutor for her, and in retrospect he was glad he'd gotten the opportunity. As he taught her Common, she taught him her own language, and regaled him with ancient tales of her ancestors. What would have been epics, parables, and songs for other races were distant, foggy memories for her, ancestral memories written into her blood. Jeril had been impressed, comparing the stories to the tapestry of bardic tradition that had been drilled into him, interweaving tales with song during her lessons and spending many a night simply talking about home with her. Their friendship had grown strong as their understanding of one another deepened in more ways than one.

He was relieved when he finally came upon a hut that had light inside of it. He walked to the window and took a look inside the crude fern-roofed structure. There she was, sitting atop a piece of furniture that couldn't seem to decide if it was a nest or a bed. She was wearing the same plain robe as always, the one Elua had insisted she wear "for decency's sake." It was a simple grey garment, made of rough cloth long enough to cover her abdomen, which usually jutted out at a downward angle several feet behind her. It was sleeveless, with wide holes cut in the sides to accommodate both her large and small sets of arms, as well as the breathing holes in between them. Her smaller arms held a small leather-bound book several feet from her triangular head, which pivoted slowly as she scanned each line of text. Her tripartite larger arms were folded close to her chest, like the limbs of a praying mantis. The light of the small lantern she read by shimmered in her compound eyes and against her mottled yellow-brown exoskeleton.

Jeril frowned. She was slouching, her feelers drooping, mandibles slightly open. Her sheen of her orange eyes seemed a shade darker than usual as well. They were all signs pointing to sorrow. That wouldn't do at all. He sighed. A bard's work was never done.

He nudged aside the thin fabric covering the doorway as he entered, a beaming smile on his face. "Hey Kireza! Whatcha reading?"

She looked up from her book, feelers darting up to point at him. "Jeril?" she rasped softly, "Why you here?"

He set down his things on a small table near the door. "Looking for you. Now you: same question."

Her feelers went flat against the top of her head. "I, ah... not, not feel well. Still sick." She coughed lightly; a soft rattling sound issuing from her sides. Jeril wasn't impressed. It was true that moist air wasn't good for her lungs - she was built for the desert, after all - but her mild infection had cleared up at least a week prior. Something was very wrong. It wasn't like Kireza to lie. She was bad at it, probably from lack of practice. Without skipping a beat, he set to work on figuring her out.

"Well then, we're going to have to make you feel better, aren't we?" He dragged the table over to the bed and searched the room for some cups and plates. He finally found some in a small cupboard underneath one of the large windows. He set them down on the table and started unwrapping his packages. "I've got just the thing, too. Grilled grubs on the kebab, barbecue tree lizard, some sort of bird or another, and uh... this stuff." He poked at a purple paste on the last leaf. "Don't know what it is, but it's tasty," he said, licking it off his finger.

Kireza stared at him, hands up, one antenna raised, a slight yellow sheen in her eyes. "Jeril, I, ah..."

"Now, now, no protestations, complaints, inquiries, or interjections allowed." She stared at him, confused by his words. He sighed. "That means hush up. We have one mission here, and that's to cure what ails you. A good time and a little bit of drink can do wonders for the soul. And where the soul goes, the body follows." He tore the wax-sealed top off of a gourd and poured its dark blue contents into a pair of small cups. He handed one to Kireza. "Cheers! To, uh... to our health! No, wait, your health."

Kireza looked down at her cup, then back up at him. It took a second, but it clicked in Jeril's head: too narrow for her to drink from.

"Ah, crap. Uh... hold on." He set down his cup and took Kireza's, then returned to the cupboard and got out a shallow bowl. He handed the bowl to Kireza and poured her cup into it. "There we go. Now drink up," he said, clunking his glass against her bowl.

Jeril downed his glass in one big gulp. It was sweet, tangy, and jammy, with a slight burning undercurrent. He raised his glass and smiled at her expectantly. Reluctantly, she lifted the bowl to her mandibles and sipped at it.

"Nn. Good. Taste like... berries?" She was still having trouble with b's. Something to work on next lesson. She swallowed the rest of the bowl, breathing evenly through her sides. Jeril smiled as he poured her another bowl.

"So the potions aren't working?" he asked.

Kireza took a sip from her bowl and lowered it again. "No, not goo-- not well," she corrected herself. "Elua makes good potions usual, but not used to kreen."

"Glad to see you're getting better with your Common. I'm still amazed that you've improved so much."

"Thank you." Her eyes seemed to brighten a bit. It just made Jeril's smile widen.

"You're welcome. Well, I'm sure you'll get better once we get out of this constant humidity. Whatcha reading anyway?" He gestured at the book as he leaned over to grab a grub kebab. "That the one I gave you? I thought you had that thing memorized cover to cover."

"Yes," she replied. "Only thing to read."

Jeril laughed, enjoying the buzz of his liquor as it started to kick in. "Well excuse me for inflicting it upon you." He bit into a grub. It was covered in a glaze of honey and animal fat, and tasted like shrimp, only grittier.

She laughed as well, trilling and clicking at his stupid joke. "Not so bad. I like the poems."

"Maybe you should try writing one? I think it'd be good practice for you. I'm sure you'd be a great poet."

Her feelers arched slightly. "Really?"

"Sure, they'll publish you far and wide. Great big banners for your bardic debut. 'Kireza, master poet!'" He swept his arm across in a grand gesture, inadvertently crashing into her bowl. It flipped, splashing liquor onto his sleeve and her robe. "Pelor's light!" He grabbed one of the leaves and tried wiping the liquor off her in a futile gesture. "Aw, crap, I'm sorry, Kireza."

"No, no, it's okay!" she insisted, grabbing his hand with a primary to stop him. Her two thumbs gripped either side of his hand, her two fingers resting on his wrist. "I will clean, it's fine." She leaned down and grabbed her bowl, not letting him go.

"No, no, no, no, no! I've made an ass of myself here, I have a reputation to maintain," he said, pulling out of her grasp. He stood up, cracking his knuckles and clearing his throat. "Here goes. Dinner and a show. Observe!" He set down his cup and unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off and holding it up in front of him with both hands. "You see here an ordinary shirt, soiled by common, every day lizard liquor. Madam, if you'd be so kind?" He held it out to her.

Not sure what to do, she reached out and touched it. "What..."

"Do you notice, fair maiden, anything unusual about this perfectly mundane garment?"

She thought for a moment, mulling over his words. "Ah... it's stained?"

"It is indeed! But not for long!" He twirled it up, then held it up with one hand, forming a series of gestures with his free hand and muttering some soft incantations. A slight shimmer surrounded it, and by the time the shirt finished untwisting itself and came loose it was clean and white again. "Behold! The power of Beginner's Bardic Magic, courtesy of whatever random hedge wizard the College grabbed off the street that day to teach prestidigitation." He tossed the shirt at her and bowed dramatically.

She caught it and clapped, half-earnestly and half-mockingly.

"Ah, still unimpressed, eh? Well for my next trick, I'll need a volunteer." He held out his hand to help her up. She took it and stood, looking down at him.

"Madam, if you'd be so kind as to remove your soiled garment..." He held out his hand expectantly.

She recoiled slightly at the suggestion. Not surprising, he mused. Their friends - Elua in particular - had made a point of hammering home how important modesty was to humans, so to suddenly tell her to disrobe must have been unexpected. "Ah, are you sure?"

"Please, madam, I'm a professional. Or so they tell me. Your robe?"

She looked down, slowly undoing the sash on her robe with her secondaries. She handed the stained garment to him.

"Thank you, madam. Have a seat and enjoy the show." She obliged as he stepped back and held up the robe with both hands. "Now, behold! Intermediary Bardic Magic!" The robe appeared to burst into flames.

"Hey!" She stood, reaching out to him.

"Hold on, keep your shirt on, lady. It's only an illusion. Wait, too late." She looked more closely. The robe itself was not burning, and the fire emitted no heat. He flipped it forwards and backwards, chanting a steady stream of incantations. With a flick of the wrist, he flashed it in front of her face. She raised her hands up and leaned back on instinct, and when she looked back the robe was gone. "Jeril? Where's my..." "Ah! Not done yet!" He reached into the pile of leaves that sat on the table and lifted one up. He folded it, folded it again, and blew on the top of it, then handed the bundle to her. "Well?"

It seemed thicker than it was when he had started folding it. She opened the bundle and found her robe inside, as clean as if it were just made. She laughed, clapping in earnest this time.

He plopped down on the bed next to her, pouring more drinks to replace what had been spilled. "Learned that one from Master Poet Higgins. Told me it was a great way to get a woman out of her clothes. Misdirection, the soul of bardic magic."

She looked down at herself. He laughed, clapping her on the back. Her chitin was smooth and hard under his hand. "Feeling better yet?"

She relaxed a bit, laughing nervously. "Yes, I think."

They drank some more, the world growing hazier by the minute. Jeril made sure they always had liquor to drink, the better to keep their buzz slowly climbing as they snacked on exotic hors d'oeuvres and chatted the night away.

As they finished laughing at a particularly bad joke he'd made, Jeril felt now was the time to strike. "So why are you really up here, Kireza?"

She stopped mid-drink and looked at him, liquor dripping off her mandibles. "Wha-- what do you mean?"

"Come on, Kireza. You haven't coughed once since I sat down. What's really bothering you? Talk to me."

She set her bowl down, feelers wrapping around the back of her head. She looked away. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine, I'm just worried about you. What's up?"

"No, I... I'm sorry. About the donn..."

"Slow down. You're slurring. The what now?"

"The do... bon. Bomb. Didn't work." Her head lolled to one side.

Jack tried to set his empty cup down on the table, but it fell off the side. He didn't bother looking down at it, focusing his hazy mind on Kireza instead. "The bomb? Yeah it did. Once Jack strapped it up it cracked that fucker's chest wide open. Cinch to smash its heart after that."

"No... was s'posed to crack gem. Only cracked stone. Arms flailed, almost smash Krashi..."

"Wait, wait, wait... what about Krashi?"

"Krashi almost crushed," she said, turning away from him. "Said it was my fault."

"Oh, that son of a... Kireza, no, that's not... no, we were all at risk but you -"

Kireza looked down, feelers wrapping around the back of her head. "My... my fault. Should have mixed better. Should have been stronger, climbed golem myself, placed better. So worthless..."

"Hey now." Jeril reached out to her and gently grabbed underneath her jaws, turning her to face him. "You stop that. You stop that right now. You're not worthless, and don't let anyone tell you that. You're amazing, you know that? You know what really happened today? Let me lay it out for you. A bunch of idiots ran into battle against a giant walking statue that could have easily smashed us into bloody smears on the ground, and would have if not for that bomb. You saved our asses today, that's the truth."

"Really?"

"Really. Listen, we've only been traveling together for a few months now, but I gotta say, I'm very glad I met you. You're probably the best friend I've ever had. You're smart, you're always helpful, and you're easily the best student I've ever taught. You're courageous, you're selfless, you're modest... I could go on, but I'm not going to sit here and let people call you worthless, least of all you."

Her feelers twitched and she grabbed his hand, eyes bright. "Thank you."

He spread his arms and gestured for her to come closer. "Come here." "Ah?" Kireza hesitated, not sure what to do.

"It's called a hug, stupid." He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. "You look like you need one." He squeezed her, feeling her breath on his arms. Tentatively, she reciprocated, wrapping all four arms around him. The larger pair were long enough to wrap around and dig into his shoulders, while the smaller overlapped in the middle of his back. He could feel her squeezing and prodding him experimentally. It occurred to him that they'd never hugged before, so he went along with it.

"Thank you," she repeated, straining to enunciate in her inebriated state. "You make me happy. Always happy when with you. So kind, so clever, always make me laugh..."

Jeril chuckled. "Heh. No problem. What are friends... uh, hey, you're just supposed to squeeze. Ow!" She pinched him suddenly, leaving a scratch on his back. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she began to bat at his skin with her stringy feelers.

"Squishy," Kireza rasped, her mandibles pressing against his skin as she spoke, rubbing her palps against his neck. The four little mini-feelers around her mouth felt itchy. "And... smell good. Very good."

"Uh... thanks, I guess," he said, taking a nervous sniff of her chitinous neck. She smelled of old leather and desert sage and a slight hint of iodine. It was not an entirely disagreeable scent. A quiet, shaky laugh eased its way out of his mouth. "You, uh, don't smell so bad yourself."

Kireza didn't respond, seemingly engrossed in his scent. He tried to pull back gently, but she wouldn't let go. Head buzzing, e rubbed against the smooth chitin on her back as he processed the scenario. This response was... unexpected. So too was his own response to it. He didn't find the hug at all objectionable. Her chitin was cool to the touch in thicker parts, but warmth seeped from her joints. Slowly, he moved his hands down, resting them on her vespine waist. Her exoskeleton was decidedly softer and more flexible there, bearing a texture and slight give reminiscent of leather.

Her breathing became heavier, soft trills escaping her mouth while his hands roamed her body. Some part of him, no doubt one saturated with alcohol, was enjoying this. His curiosity had been piqued. He fingered the creases between the hard, smooth plates on her back, hands wandering down to her small abdomen, brushing against her outer winglets that sprouted from her waist, leathery and opaque. Kireza drew back from him, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Jeril..." she whispered, light glinting off the three simple eyes atop her head like shining jewels. Her compound eyes, shaped like inverted teardrops,glittered as her feelers wandered across his naked chest. Kireza pushed him down onto the mattress, the hard fingers of her smaller hands frantically grasping his waist, dimpling his skin.

Jeril cleared his throat. "Uh... okay, this is not hugging. We don't hug like this. Kireza?"

He scooted backwards on his elbows, a nervous tingle dancing down his back. Kireza followed him eagerly, crawling to the center of the bed on all six limbs, her usual grace spoiled a bit by her drunken stagger. She pressed him into the bed, drawing her head in close. He could make out the sheen of the membrane covering the eyes themselves as she leaned in, mandibles spread wide, and touched her open mouth to his neck. Her tongue was tiny for such a large head, rough-textured but soft. She licked him gently at the point where his neck touched his shoulder, cooing at him while she gently squeezed his arms. It sent shivers down his spine. Somewhere deep inside of him, a voice cried out through the alcoholic fog that smothered his thoughts, saying that this was wrong, this was a bad thing, this had to stop.

"Jeril," Kireza whispered, gently pinching his skin with her blunt secondary jaws. "I want..." she trailed off.

Mentally, he told the voice to fuck off.

On instinct he turned his head to try and kiss her, but she didn't seem aware of his intent. Instead she continued down his torso, the short strokes of her tongue leaving a trail of slightly slimy saliva behind. She nibbled on him lightly. Her small hands moved lower as well, caressing him gently, sending tingles down his sides as she dragged her clawed fingers along them. Her feelers had halted their frantic dance, instead pressing against his flesh and stroking him like the tip of a paintbrush on canvas. She was fully engrossed in his taste, his scent. He flexed his abs reflexively as she brushed against his stomach, and she halted her descent, fascinated by the movement of muscle under skin. She poked at his stomach gently, trying to provoke the same reaction. He chuckled and took some deep breaths, flexing his abs every so often to keep her interest. "Do you like that?"

"Yes," she hissed softly. "Strange. Good..." Her winglets buzzed as she grabbed his hands, bringing them up above his head. He caressed the joints of her fingers, suspecting that they'd be a bit more sensitive. She lingered on his stomach, probing his navel with her palps as she alternated licking either side of it. Jeril could feel himself growing hard. Everything about this was strange, but exhilarating at the same time.

She lifted her head slightly, speaking softly. "Need you. Taste you..." In her drunken state, almost every language lesson he'd taught her was melting away. Did she really put that much effort into her speech just for his sake? "Taste good. Snell... more good. Need you." She pulled back a bit, shifting her attention to the growing bulge in his pants. He felt her rubbing her jaws lazily against it as her secondaries began to tug at his belt. She pulled her hand from his grasp and let out a low-pitched churr, all four hands on the buckle, feelers whipping forward in annoyance. She pulled him upwards by the belt, jaws pressing against him, growling, confounded by his belt buckle because she was too drunk or too eager to stop and figure it out.

With an animalistic hiss, she reared back, jaws spread wide, and planted her primaries on either side of Jeril. In a flash she snapped her head forward and bit the leather strip in half with ease. Jeril gasped, his heart beating in his throat, as she pulled the belt out of its loops and tossed it aside to clatter on the uneven wooden floor. Lifting him slightly, she violently tugged his pants down to free his throbbing erection, continuing to pull until they came off, boots and all. All four hands shot back up to grab at his waist, sixteen hard claws dimpling his skin, a slight bit of pressure away from drawing blood. Her head shot forward again, tilting this way and that to study his engorged member. Jeril stared back at her, shaking.

"Okay, just hold on a second here..." he said.

The tips of her antennae traced lines up and down his shaft, tickling him like a pair of long feathers. She grabbed him roughly with a secondary, and he yelped softly.

"I said hold on!"

She was pulling on his skin with both small hands now, large ones relaxing their grip on his waist ever so slightly. The pink took on a lighter tone as she remembered herself, slowly pulling down his foreskin to get a better look at the head. She chittered as she tasted underneath the head, the rough feelers dragging against his most sensitive areas. Dipping her head down, she began rubbing her closed jaws against him, palps dancing across the skin of his shaft. She opened her mouth and began to lick him with her rough little tongue.

Jeril breathed rapidly, not sure if he was okay with where he was going. On the one hand, he trusted Kireza, but on the other hand, he had really liked that belt, and the huge shears that just ruined it were now, in fact, resting on part of him that he considered very important. Before he could ponder any longer, though, she spread her mandibles wide and descended on his manhood.

"Kireza!"

She pressed her open mouth against him. A momentary resistance gave way, and he slid into her throat. He gasped, suddenly engulfed in her moist warmth. She sucked on him, gently at first, then harder, pressing her tongue against him inside of her mouth. He moaned as she began to move, feeling the soft velvety texture drag against his skin, the hard structure of her head apparent just beyond the wet, warm sheath of flesh. She hummed as she sucked him, sending shivers up his spine. On instinct he gently placed his hand on the back of her head to encourage her.

She didn't need the encouragement. She was clearly enjoying herself, building up speed at a slow rate. Her feelers bumped against his chest at a regular rhythm, her tongue constantly moving, her blunt maxillae dragging against his shaft, the soft vibrations of her humming stimulating him as she sucked him greedily. She couldn't get enough of him. He could hardly believe what was happening. This was the shy, reserved creature he'd had to finesse a drunken confession out of? Where had this come from? Did she always feel this way about him?

It was a question that lost relevance the longer she displayed her affection. Her pace increased, her head moving smoothly, steadily, her breathing becoming heavier moment by moment. She pulled all the way back, leaving just the tip of him nestled in her mouth, a sheen of slimy saliva left on his shaft. She licked at the underside of his tip, sucking lightly at him a little and then relaxing, over and over again. She drew her body closer to his, curling up alongside him and finally lying down, resting with her abdomen pointing towards him.

Curious, Jeril glanced to his side, staring at her abdomen. Her little winglets were spreading and flapping at random intervals, and a heavy musk was now making itself apparent to him. It was subtle, hard to detect save for a heaviness in the air. The abdomen itself was bulbous, about two feet long, a smooth continuation of her body from her waist. The shape reminded him a bit of a fat pinecone. He counted seven segments from the point where her long digitigrade legs jutted out. Seven plates top and bottom, tapering to a blunted point at the end.

It wasn't still. It pulsed a little, each segment folding over one another as they moved ever so slightly. At the tip he could see what looked like two small feelers, situated at either side of a large Y-shaped slit. The bottom plate of the last segment was split down the middle and separated from the top, lined with tiny bristles. The two lower flaps twitched and pulsated repeatedly, peeling back slightly to reveal a dark leathery organ within, shaped a bit like a folded leaf. Soft whitish flesh glistened within the sheath. Curious, he laid on his side and curled forward for a better look. Kireza didn't seem to mind, focused intently on playing with him inside her mouth.

Jeril reached out a hand, brushing against one of the little feelers. Kireza spit him out, twisting her head round almost completely. She stared at him silently, gaze fixed upon his hand. He touched her again, gently stroking first one feeler, then the other. She purred.

She shuddered as he stroked the outer edge of her slit. He smiled, knowing he was on the right track. He stopped his movement and looked back at her, nodding for her to continue. Shivering, she purred and took him into her mouth again as he spread her open.

The sheath inside of her began to stick out slightly, pushing outward gradually. Jeril moved his face closer for a better look, gently massaging the outer casing. The flesh inside inside began to swell, slowly pushing its way out the tip as it became engorged. It took on a pale yellow color - the color of her blood, he realized. It was fat, tapering to a soft point like a lotus bud sheathed in blooming layers of chitin. He could make out three sections to it, split in a manner similar to the plates covering the sheath. A strong musk washed over him, a musty, slightly sour smell reminiscent of iodine and lavender and meat just starting to spoil. He stared at her parts, not sure what to make of them. The voice echoed in his mind now, telling him that if ever he needed proof this was going too far, this was it. Another voice, deeper inside of him, also spoke up: In for a copper, in for a gold.

He shrugged. The world was spinning around him, and he figured if he'd gone this far he might as well keep going.

Carefully, Jeril brushed his fingers along one of the fat, stubby petals. It was soft, slick, and fleshy, giving easily under pressure. Kireza shuddered at his touch, purring as he gently stroked her, fingers tracing the outline of the Y split in the middle. He could feel the heat radiating from the slit as he teased her, measuring her reactions. Her winglets spread wide, quivering and buzzing in response to his touch. He smiled at her response, then slipped a finger in between two of the petals. She was warm inside, warm and velvety soft and slick with fluid. A muffled chittering around Jeril's manhood sent tingles through his body as he sunk his finger into the center of her mound, right at the tips of all three petals.

He wiggled his finger inside of her as he slowly drew it in and out. Kireza had stopped moving her head, though the vibration of her muffled moans still sent tingles through him. He drew his finger out, carrying with it a strand of fluid which he spread between his fingers. He sniffed at it, curious. The same smell as her, obviously, though he found himself wondering, in spite of himself, how the pungent fluid would taste. He sucked on a finger and found her to be sour, bitter, just a hint of salt... not the worst thing he'd ever tasted. He spent only a second or two wondering how she'd feel in his mouth before he moved in to investigate first hand.

Kireza's whole body shuddered as he pressed his mouth against her, feeling her slimy and slick and warm and soft against his lips. She let him slip from her mouth and chittered again, the raspy, dry crescendo of her voice waxing as he began to suck on the petals and lick the clefts of flesh in between them. She whispered his name, the petals spreading wider and wider, throbbing and pulsing inside of his mouth as she became more aroused. His grin grew wide as he pleasured her, even though she'd stopped giving him attention. Her response was enough to keep him excited.

He licked closer and closer to the center of her mound as the petals opened, taking the time to tease her by taking long, lingering licks in between the petals, kissing the tips and dragging his lips across her. Her scent and her taste overwhelmed him, and he began to feel a bit of the intoxication that seemed to infect her. Al the while she chittered and moaned at his touch, grasping both him and the bed with all her strength. Her chitinous claws dug into hes hips, causing him a bit of pain. He ignored it and kept up his work, finally plunging his tongue deep into the hole at the center of her mound. He played with her between his fingers as he licked and sucked on her, savoring her bizarre taste.

Suddenly she pulled on him. Her petals grabbed at his face and he could feel his tongue being drawn deeper inside of her. He panicked, pulling away and coughing, trying to catch his breath. In her eagerness she was suffocating him. She wanted him. She wanted him desperately. That thought rang clear through the haze of his drunken mind, and for some reason it excited him immensely. He pulled himself away from her head and knelt on the bed. She looked back, antennae shivering, eyes glittering. No words were necessary . She drew both sets of forelimbs in underneath her thorax, the membranous claws of her feet digging into the crude mattress. She undulated her entire body, wings buzzing in fits and starts as she presented her throbbing abdomen to him, petals of her mound splayed wide and dripping wet with fluid.

Jeril crawled forward on his knees, pushing her abdomen down with one hand while he lined himself up with the other. He rubbed the tip of his erection against her petals, teasing the outer rim of her hole. She shuddered again, breathing heavily. The stubby little petals tried to shut around him, grasping greedily at him. Her warmth and her wetness were gloriously inviting. He pressed against the hole and eased his hips forward little by little. She pressed her mandibles into the mattress, biting down to stifle her reverberating growl as he drew the experience out. He savored every moment of it, every little movement of her wings and undulation of her body, the way the twitching of the little feelers there tickled his stomach as he pressed into her all the way to the hilt.

The velvety softness of her insides was almost too much for him. He resorted to his usual tricks, praying that the old sheet music mnemonics and long lineages of student and master bards would be enough to keep him from finishing too quickly. Kireza was not helping in that regard at all. Every few seconds she would squeeze him, trying to pull him in further, the stubby little petals lapping at his flesh like tongues as he drew in and out. He kept up the endless march of information he'd not needed for any other purpose for years going through his head as he settled into a steady pace. He experimented a bit with his rhythm, trying to time his thrusts with her squeezing, thrusting in between them, keeping his pace slow until he got used to the feeling of being inside her. A soft current ran through her muscles, constantly massaging him between squeezes. The squeezes themselves always pulled him further inward, grabbing at him, demanding more of him. He resisted the pulls as much as possible, drawing almost completely out of her, thrusting back in between the squeezes. Kireza squirmed in front of him, her feelers dancing chaotically in the air.

Jeril bent down over her, resting his hands atop the center of her abdomen, fingering the edges of the overlapping plates covering her as he thrust. Her winglets were buzzing near-constantly now, fluttering against his hands. He moved his hands forward underneath them, suddenly fascinated by the sensation. He fingered the chitin at the bases of the twin pairs, which was soft and supple in contrast to the hard plates surrounding them. The wings ceased their flapping as she shuddered anew, pressing her whole body back against him. He laughed, moving one hand to the front of her abdomen to finger the seam where a leg joined to her body. She had so many small soft parts hidden on her. He wondered how many he'd find.

Kireza stopped biting the bed and twisted her head almost completely around, stretching her feelers towards him to taste him again. A small hand clutched at his own, thumbs wrapping around his fingers as her owns stroked his wrist. He could feel her antennae stroking at his back, struggling to keep close to him as he thrust away at her, and suddenly he felt dissatisfied with this position.

He pulled out of her, still connected to her by a lingering strand of fluid, drawing a chatter of protest from her as she looked back at him. He was far too drunk to piece together exactly what she was saying in her own tongue, but it was clear she wasn't happy. He shushed her and pulled at her shoulder, urging her to roll over. She resisted a bit, lingering on her side until he stroked her mound with his free hand. The petals grasped frantically at him, sucking eagerly at the two fingers he inserted to calm her down. She relented, unable to resist him further as he rolled her onto her back, limbs splayed out across the bed. She curled her abdomen inward, drawing her face forward to lick at herself. It was a bizarre sight, alien and lewd and fascinating all at the same time. Gently, he pushed his hand in between her converging ends and drew her abdomen down, then pressed himself against and into her once again.

Kireza leaned back on the elbows of her large arms, small ones clutching at Jeril's waist as he thrust. She looked somewhat uncomfortable like this. It was an unnatural position for her to be in. Somewhere in his mind echoed the thought that nothing natural was going on in this room. Kireza didn't offer any protest, and instead drew her legs in under his arms. She grasped his shoulders with her large clawed toes, the springy membrane in between them meant to give her purchase on the sands of her homeland stretching between them. She leaned forward again and fluttered her feelers against his face as he picked up where he left off, resuming the rhythm he'd set before.

Her contractions were becoming more frequent, more frantic, more needy. Jeril picked up the pace to match her own, enthralled by her warmth, her wetness, her tightness. She was leaking out onto him and all over the bed, and the petals of her sex were clinging to him in between thrusts. Kireza was letting out a constant guttural growl now, mandibles shivering and chattering together every so often. He looked into her eyes, which seemed to glow in the flickering light of the lamp like a sunset. He panted, the surging waves of pleasure that raged through his body finally catching up with him. One of Kireza's feelers found its way into his mouth. It had nearly no taste to it, just an earthy, salty tang barely detectable over the lingering flavor of her softer parts. He wrapped his lips around it and began to suckle on it. Kireza tilted her head towards him, gasping with sudden surprise. She seized up for a second, her toes digging into his shoulders. She pulled on his waist with her small hands, chittering out his name. Her pore squeezed on him, long and hard.

Jeril rolled the feeler's tip around in his mouth, rolled her small abdominal feelers between his fingers, finding it hard to hold back as she continued to massage his length with her insides. He was getting close now, very close, and he had a feeling she was as well. He switched up his rhythm, timing his thrusts with the squeezes rather than against them. Kireza's whole body surged with each thrust, a raspy cry erupting from her mouth. Her squeezes became more and more frequent, her undulations more intense, pressing her abdomen insistently against his groin. He gripped the plates near her tip and lifted one leg up to get more leverage. He increased his pace, his breaths becoming more rapid and frantic along with the rest of his movements. A surging heat rose up inside of him, pressing him onward, growing with each thrust of his hips.

Kireza's toe claws suddenly dug into his shoulders, though he paid the dull pain no mind. Her pore had clamped down around his manhood, pulling him in to the hilt. Her small hands dug into his waist as well as her large ones slashed through the bedding she laid back on. She threw her head back, letting out a long chattering cry as her feelers shivered and curled on themselves, her whole body shuddering in orgasmic bliss. Her petals pressed against him as he exploded inside of her, gasping and panting and shaking. Waves of warmth and pleasure washed over him as her pore greedily squeezed out every last drop of his seed.

Jeril went limp, Kireza's legs the only thing keeping him upright. Her toes had relaxed their iron grip, twitching slightly at random intervals. He grabbed at her leg, pulling himself free of her pore and easing himself down on top of her. Her exoskeleton felt oddly cool against his flesh. Soothingly so. He wrapped his arms loosely around her, the breath from her sides warm against his sweat-slick skin. Her feelers dug into his hair, burrowing through it like a pair of worms. The vague buzz enshrouding his mind was becoming heavier all of a sudden. He laid his head down on Kireza's chest, some part of him thinking this a bit rude, but that too fell silent under the falling curtain of slumber. Somehow he knew she would forgive him.

A feeling of peace and satisfaction settled over Kireza as she lay on her back, enjoying the pleasant squishy warmth of the human lying atop her. Her feelers lazily flicked against his skin as she stared at the ceiling. The whole room was a dark blur, and though her compound eyes could see most of it, only the center was even vaguely clear. Some thought, some cacophonous echo of ancestral memory cried out for attention in her blood, but it slipped out of her grasp, so instead she contemplated the leaves that made up the roof for a while longer.

The thought became louder as time passed, though only slightly more clear. The alcoholic buzz in her head was slowly dissipating, and in its place grew a dull ache that she decided she didn't like. That nagging thought was beginning to make her uneasy as well. What was bothering her?

She heard a shout from outside. Distant, indistinct. Fear crawled its way through her nerves for a reason she didn't entirely understand. She clutched at Jeril's body. Fear... fear and shame and worry and confusion...

Her antennae shot up, flecks of Jeril's sweat flying off of them as they rose. Jeril's sweat was all over her, in fact, and she bore other fluids of his inside of her. She pushed his body off her own, rolling out from under him. She stared down at his sprawled form, filled with a sudden creeping horror. The magnitude of what she'd done finally struck her. The wrongness of it, the shame. Flashes of instinct flared through her mind, images of disgust visibly forming on her companions' faces, thoughts of how she'd be cast out of her pack if she ever returned, a screaming from within her veins at how she'd gone against everything that was natural and right.

The shout came again, closer this time. It was outside the hut, a few hundred feet or so away. She knelt over Jeril, arms drawn close to her thorax, hand gripping the sides of her jaws. She had to leave. She had to leave now. She stepped off the bed and almost immediately fell over, knocking a plain earthen vase off the nightstand she steadied herself on. Clothes. Clothes all over the floor. She grabbed them and threw them on the bed next to Jeril. The belt. She pulled Jeril's belt from his pants, throwing them back onto the bed. She snatched her robe up from the table.

She looked around frantically for her canvas backpack. Footsteps? Did she hear footsteps? She froze, staring out the door, suddenly spotting the pack next to it. She ran forward and snatched it in one primary claw, belt and robe dangling from the other. She ran to the window, stopping for an instant to look back at Jeril. She handed off her robe to her secondaries and went back, pulling down the blanket from underneath Jeril, stuffing his clothes and then his body underneath it roughly. Good enough? Probably not, but he was covered. She sprinted to the window and climbed through it anyway. She ran to the edge of the balcony and perched on the handrail, which sagged under her weight. She twisted her head frantically, antennae flailing. Tree. Without thinking, she sprang from the balcony and latched onto a tree a couple dozen feet away, then climbed to its top to wait out the night.

The sun was well past risen before she started down the tree. She gripped at the trunk with her secondaries and legs, haphazardly donning her robe and pack, then inverting herself and creeping quietly to the ground. She stayed down on all sixes as she reached the ground, searching for a soft spot to dig. A few minutes later, she made her way to the dirt road on the edge of the village, Jeril's belt buried behind her at the base of the tree. A futile gesture, maybe, but one less piece of evidence was one less piece of evidence.

She tied off her sash as she walked, focusing intently on keeping her feelers calm. The smell of her pheromones she didn't concern herself with. Though she reeked of fear and shame, she was the only one who could smell it.

Her companions were loitering around the cart as she approached. She saw Zender first, directing a pair of hulking lizardfolk as they tipped a mossy piece of the golem they'd destroyed onto a floating disc of magical energy. The disc dipped underneath its weight, flickering for a moment before it dissipated in a flash of light. The ground shook as the huge stone foot smashed into the ground. The lizardmen shrugged, glancing at one another. Sighing testily, Zender waved them off and adjusted his small round spectacles, one hand on massaging his temple.

"The hell have you been, cockroach?" a gravelly voice spit from the far side of the cart. Krashi stepped into view, clad only in a loincloth and hide boots. "We've been waiting on you for hours!"

"No we haven't," Zender said. "An hour at most, maybe, and we've been loading the cart the whole time." He looked haggard and worn out, long hair flayed out and loose instead of neatly brushed and tied as it usually was. He'd apparently not escaped the partying after all. "But still, Kireza, he has a point. Where have you been? We could have used your help."

A spring coiled in her thorax. She shrank back, not sure how to explain herself. "Ah, I was, ah... I climbed a tree. My, my head hurt."

Krashi laughed. "Ha! Pansies, the lot of you. Even the bug has a hangover, and I drank more than the rest of you combined!" He slung his spear across his shoulders, leaning back with a smirk.

"Yes, we're all very proud of your sinful indulgence." Elua's head popped out around the corner of the wagon. The old cleric was sitting in the driver's seat, her wrinkled face looking every bit as fresh and awake as Zender wasn't. "Now come on, we're already behind schedule. Zender, leave that silly rock here. There's already one of them taking up half the cart."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew how much money these things could be worth. But fine, the one we have will be good enough for my studies." Zender grumbled, climbing onto the seat next to her. "Is that everyone? We need to get moving."

Jack's voice came from inside the cart. "Not everyone, no." He pushed aside the canvas flap covering the cart's rear and stuck his head out. He looked and smelled an awful lot like Jeril; a bit bulkier maybe, and he kept his hair cropped short. Unease crept into her veins."Did you see Jeril on your way down here, Kireza?"

A shiver ran through her at the mention of his name. So he hadn't shown up yet. Silently, she shook her head, hearts pounding as panicked, half-formed thoughts raced through her mind. If Jeril told them...

"Oh, never mind." Jack leaned out of the cart and shouted, "Jeril!"

Kireza twisted her head around, frozen on the spot. Jeril was staggering down the road, one hand on his head, the other on the waistband of his pants. His hair was shaggier than usual, making Zender's look neat by comparison. He waved weakly at Jack, stumbled, caught himself, and started a slow jog towards them.

He groaned as he approached. "Not so loud, damn it. Pelor's light, my head..."

"Take not His name in vain!" Elua shouted through the cart's tarp.

"Oh, give it a rest. It's too early." Jeril rubbed the back of his neck. He had dark circles under his eyes.

"It's almost noon, Jeril," Jack said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, like I said. Who won?"

"Krashi," Jack said. "Drank me and the chieftain under the table, then dragged us back out and did it again. I tried. Looks like you did too."

"I don't remember a damn thing. I was on stage, I was running around the village, I drank some lizard booze, ate some bugs" - Kireza shuddered - "and that's all I can recall. Anyone seen my belt, by the way?"

"Your belt?" Jack frowned. "How'd you lose it? Never mind. We'll get you a new one at the next town. Now come on, we gotta go," he said as he disappeared behind the tarp.

Jeril frowned. "I liked that belt." He looked at Kireza. "Morning, Kireza." He turned away from her and started to climb into the cart. She felt a wave of relief wash over her, but suddenly he stopped. He looked up, then twisted around and stared at her. He squinted, wobbling as he raised one eyebrow, then frowned, brow furrowed in confusion. Kireza shivered, suddenly wavering in her resolve to keep her feelers straight and relaxed as he stared her down, his face stretching and squishing in that weird human way.

And suddenly his eyes shot open, skin flaring bright red. A hand shot to his mouth to muffle a curse. He began to shake, breaking eye contact with her as his eyes darted around, as if to make sure the whole world wasn't staring at the two of them. The spring in her thorax tightened further, her hearts seeming to coil around one another like snakes.

"Come on, pansy, we ain't got all day!" Krashi bellowed, thumping Jeril in the back with the butt of his spear. "I'm sick of waiting around for you two!"

Jeril climbed into the cart to escape the half-orc's wrath, disappearing behind the tarp after his brother. Kireza crept forward and parted the tarp, peering into the shadows behind it. It was crowded in there already. Jack and Jeril sat next to a massive stone fist which took up most of the wagon. Zender must have magically lightened it to spare the cart the load. No wonder he was so impatient. The spell would probably only last a few hours before he had to cast it again. Opposite the brothers was all their baggage. She hesitated, staring into the cart. The butt of Krashi's spear thumped her back, urging her forward.

"You too, insect. Climb in so we can get moving!" He snarled at her. She shrank away from him, tension mounting in her thorax again as she crept forward and climbed into the cart. There was very little room for her. Jack leaned against the fist, arms crossed and eyes closed, readying himself for a nap. Jeril sat with his knees up, arms wrapped around them, staring intently at the cart's canvas roof. She sat the only place she could: right next to him, legs curled up in front of her, abdomen facing the cart's rear. Krashi grumbled as he took his spot on the cart's back ledge, spear gripped in both hands as he leaned against its side.

Jeril was practically catatonic. He scooted away from her ever so slightly as her back pressed into him. There was no place for either of them to go. Kireza stared at the sliver of light where the tarp parted, placing Jeril squarely in her blind spot directly behind her head. One of her feelers brushed against his hair as she turned, causing him to twitch and lean away from her suddenly.

It was going to be a damn long ride to the next village.