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Can You Tell What I'm Thinking?

or

Daggerpenis! - The Sheath-ening

{Author's Note -- this is the first of what may be many in the line of what I call Non-Canonical Sexual Interludes (NCSIs). We have Beh'Grak, the male Chakri from War's Oversight, meeting up with a feline anthropomorph by the name of Katherine 'Kath' LaRoche on Earth}

---

It was a foolish thing, Grak thought, to be standing in the middle of a concession line and unmoving. At one instant, he was moving at a shuffling pace from left-to-right in a mixed line of humans, Chakri, and other aliens, all of them grabbing the items making up their noonday meal and placing them on a small tray for their later enjoyment.

At another instant, Grak was standing still and dumbstruck, tray forgotten in his hands, and staring fixedly across the cafeteria of a Terran university to the sparsely occupied tables in the distance.

The curious and otherwise guttural noise of a human clearing his throat to his left intruded on his mostly uninterested consciousness. "Excuse me," a voice said.

Grak blinked, glanced around himself for a moment, and mumbled something in Standard English as an apology as he continued to his right. He was vaguely aware of placing his hand against a palmreader as he paid for his food and the flow of other cafeteria patrons bore him along like a gentle river before deposited him on the edge of the seating area.

And so, for the second time in the space of a minute, he stood still and stared.

A few tables away, and thankfully unaware of the tactless Chakri staring in that direction, was what appeared to be another creature out of place on the Terran homeworld of Earth - another feline bipedal form. Not a Chakri, however.

Had Grak known more about Terran customs, he would have recognized the blue, wraparound, flowing garment this female feline was wearing as an Indian sarong. Grak was hardly aware of her clothing, however. The exposed, plush fur of her forearms, visible as she picked at the remains of her lunch, was of a light gray and dotted with the most endearing circlets of a much darker shade. At her throat, and on the insides of her arms, was fur of such brilliance as to be almost white. Only at her cheeks did the mottled pattern of gray and circlets resume, beneath eyes so green as to rival those of Terran emeralds.

Her fur was scarcely the most striking feature she possessed. Surely, had any other creature laid eyes on her, the swell of full and rounded breasts and the curve of female hips would have struck most males dumb. However, her most striking feature was the wide and thickly-furred tip of her tail, as it idly bobbed from one side to the other, occupying a space at her left shoulder. It was something one might mistake as a close friend of hers, with its tip being larger than her own head, except that as it gradually tapered to a more modest thickness, it disappeared into the folds of her sarong and blended with an admittedly shapely rump.

She had nothing like the absent mane of a female Chakri, however. Her head was adorned with hair more like that of a human female, as dark and alluring as the circlets on her arms and pinned in a flattering knot behind her crown.

Unusually, there was a stray lock of hair which fell almost over her right eye, an unlike the rest of her hair, which was as dark as the circlet pattern decorating her pelt, this one lock was a brilliant blue-green cyan in color. It appeared that her foreclaws, which were smallish but well-manicured, had been painted in this alluring color as well.

Grak took a moment to collect his lower jaw and steady his tray. She seemed unaware of his presence for the moment, but if he continued to stand here like a fool, he would undoubtedly become the center of attention of the entire room. To cover his momentary lapse, he attempted to place his feet under some kind of effective command and walked over to a small table covered in a number of seasonings and condiments.

Should he approach her? His thoughts were torn between propriety, which demanded that he attend this conference of humans, Chakri, and other assorted experts on signal intelligence, and indulgence, which demanded that he at least approach this female and introduce himself.

He closed his eyes. He'd had scant luck with females of his own species. What made him believe that a female like this one - a beautiful specimen, to be sure, and unconcerned about anything, to appearances - might be interested in him?

And yet he was wrestling with the notion that if he simply left - merely ate his lunch, attended the latter half of the conference, and boarded the transport which would take him home to Chakron - he would be forever haunted by the indecision.

What to do?

* * *

"Might I join you?"

Kath glanced up from the empty plate in front of her to the space beyond the chair opposite. The day had been so full of boredom and routine that she'd been expecting to finish out her lunch and make her way to afternoon classes like any other Thursday - half asleep and daydreaming -

He wasn't one of her classmates.

He wasn't even from Earth.

She could feel her tail start to swish to the side, and she caught it with a quick motion. To cover how startled she felt, she ducked her head in a kind of a nod and said, "You might." She felt her ears begin to dip, and she straightened them with an effort.

He was a Chakri - an alien, in fact - and while she'd seen Chakri before, this was the first time she'd seen one closer than a few feet away. Like her, he was feline in form and covered in fur, but his people weren't quite constructed as a snow leopard analogue was.

He was tall - admirably so - and broad across the shoulders in the way most Chakri were. They had a quality that most people would associate with football linebackers. Well, she thought, most humans. Felines, as a matter of practicality, didn't play football. Runners, climbers, and martial artists, they had issues with picking bits of turf and grass out of their fur. Her especially, with her double coat.

He was still standing there, holding his lunch tray, and he hadn't sat down yet. It took her a moment to read the slight quivering of his ears and the undercurrent of pheromones in his scent - and he did smell wonderful - as nervousness. As his eyes met hers - and his eyes were green, like hers - his glance settled to one side. She curved her lips into a sort of a smile to reassure him, and gestured at the seat opposite hers. "Sorry," she said, with a hint of abashed laughter, "please."

He swept the gray, cloaklike garment he was wearing into a semblance of order as he dropped into the chair, and set his tray down with care. "Thank you," he said.

She noticed how his ears flicked once against the chestnut-colored mane at his head and shoulders, and then remained erect, although quivering again. The rest of his fur - short, golden-tawny, and shining with good health - looked like it was bristling ever so slightly. Wow, she thought to herself, he must be terrified.

"First time at U. Berkeley?" she asked, to bridge the gap in conversation.

He managed to look sheepish as he replied. "My first time on Earth, in fact," he explained.

"Welcome!" she said, bobbing her head in understanding. "How are you finding California?"

He waved a free hand in a noncommittal gesture. "It is certainly warm here," he indicated. "As warm as the place where I was born," he added.

"Reminds you of home?" she asked, happy to turn the conversation to where she could observe him as he spoke. Even beyond the aspect where the Chakri were rare and exotic, at least on Earth, he was quite handsome. She hoped that he couldn't tell how her ears felt like they were growing hot.

"Yes," he explained, "although I remember there being more grassland and fewer people," he remarked.

She stifled a giggle and managed to turn it into a chuckle. "Yeah," she agreed, "Berkeley is full of people." She picked up a bite of the remains of her lunch - a spicy beef dish - and popped it into her mouth. "I can't remember when I last saw another feline like myself around here."

He tilted his head slightly to one side - and he looked fairly adorable in a juvenile kind of way in that pose - and waved his hand again by way of a question. "I must confess I am less well-informed than I would like," he explained, "but I was not aware that Earth was home to any other species aside from humans."

She shrugged, unoffended. "What can I say? Here I am." She worked the remains of the morsel of meat around in her mouth and swallowed to cover the intervening silence. "I grew up in California," she explained, "but I've spent my entire life around humans. There aren't very many of 'us' around, but even in the minority I think you'll find humans are very hospitable." She swept a stray lock of her hair behind her ear with a clawtip. "I'm just grateful the place is air-conditioned. The climate wouldn't be so hospitable otherwise," she joked.

"Yes," he agreed. He gestured at her outfit and seemed to abruptly realize some inner embarrassment over the gesture. "I mean, you seem dressed for the weather, but your fur seems to be quite ... er, 'luxuriant,' I believe is the word ...?"

She felt a flush from her ears to the tip of her nose. "Thank you," she said, lowering her eyes momentarily. "But you're right," she agreed, "I much prefer being out in the evening, when it's cooler."

"I imagine the city is quieter in the evenings, is it?" he asked.

She laughed out loud, and she as she re-opened her eyes she noticed how he was watching her with a more relaxed manner about him. His eyes were gorgeous, she admitted, and it was hard to tear her gaze away from him. She shook her head to regain her composure. "Clearly you haven't been here for a whole day yet," she said. "The campus nightlife is pretty rowdy."

"I have not yet had the pleasure of exploring the city," he said. He lowered a clawtip to the table between them, and traced a few vague circles on the surface as he spoke. "I arrived only this morning, and while I have a conference to attend shortly, I have only a few hours in which I might rest here before traveling back to Chakron tonight."

She pursed her lips in a wry expression. "'Sounds like you won't have a lot of time to take much in," she observed. She thought for a moment, thinking of how the situation might end up. On the one hand, he was a complete stranger, but on the other hand, he seemed very nice.

"'Tell you what," she said, arranging the bits of plastic cutlery and packaging on her lunch tray, "I have a class that starts in just a few minutes, but if you'd like to meet up in the evening, I could show you around town. Places to go, places to avoid, that kind of thing. How does that sound?"

His ears lifted, and his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "You are very kind," he said. "I ... yes, I would like that very much," he agreed. "Thank you."

"Perfect," she pronounced, sweeping her lunch tray from the table with a practiced gesture, and shooting a glance at the large chronometer mounted high on the cafeteria wall nearby. "Meet me back here in ... five hours?"

He bobbed his head in an enthusiastic nod, the fur of his mane just about bouncing before it settled into place again. "I will," he promised.

She inclined her head in courtesy. "See you then," she advised, and gracefully dismounted her chair and rose to her feet in a fluid motion.

* * *

He was being rude, according to his own customs, by staring after her as she left, but there was something undeniably beautiful about how her hips danced lightly from left to right, in opposition to how her tail trailed behind her, as she padded away. In a few seconds she reached the bend of a corridor, and was gone to sight.

He blinked.

"I forgot to ask her name ..." he breathed.

"Sorry," came a nearby voice, "were you talking to me?"

He glanced over to see a human male looking at him from the next table over. He merely shook his head from side to side, and turned his attention back to his lunch. As he ate, his gaze crept up to the chronometer on the wall, and he quietly appraised how long it would be until he could see her again.

* * *

After an afternoon spent watching some of the driest literature and images paraded past his eyes, and declining to take part in an optional round-table discussion on signal intelligence, he found himself standing at an information kiosk adjoining the cafeteria and scanning the small print of a tourist brochure.

He reasoned that he might do well to research the kind of places which were located near the campus, so that if he were offered a suggestion he might have some idea of which way to answer.

From where he was standing, he glanced to the far distance where he could see the cafeteria's wall chronometer change from 1641h to 1642h. He performed a quick mental calculation, and determined that he was at five hours and two minutes from when his lunchtime encounter with the strange, attractive female feline had ended.

He still found it unusual and uncharacteristic on his part that he had neither introduced himself, nor asked for her name. Still, he was looking forward to meeting with her again with a kind of eagerness he had not felt in years.

At the risk of seeming too eager, he refolded the brochure neatly, deposited it on the counter of the kiosk, and paused to straighten his cloak before he began a slow, casual walk toward the cafeteria proper.

As he emerged into the larger chamber from where the kiosk had been tucked away, he caught sight of her leaning casually against an adjacent wall. On seeing him, she began a slow walk to meet him halfway, eyes shining and ears held erect, and he was all of a sudden fighting with the thudding of his own heart in his ears.

From the front, she was even more attractive than when he'd last saw her, and both her stature and grace of movement did her unusual justice.

She had endearingly attractive legs and feet, he noted. He understood that this was an archaic opinion for him to have, but he knew intellectually that there was value in having strong legs and stamina. Her toes were broad and had impressive claws - although in keeping with human practice, she appeared to have painted these latter the same alluring cyan as her foreclaws and the endearing lock of hair falling past her right cheek.

Further up, her thighs were ample and curvaceous, also covered in the same gray fur as the rest of her body with the darker circlets trailing up under the bottom of her sarong.

As she drew closer, he quickly steadied his gaze to focus on the emerald green of her eyes, although he failed to skip entirely over her full, swaying breasts, which danced tantalizingly as she moved.

"Hi!" she said, as she drew up to him. "I hope you weren't waiting long."

He shook his head, and he was glad to see her eyes follow his mane as it settled about his shoulders. "Not long," he reassured her. "I was able to keep myself occupied." He took a step back and gestured with a broad palm at his chest. "I must apologize for earlier," he explained, "as I ought to have introduced myself." He bent at the waist, and made the low bow of Chakri polite society, lowering his gaze to her feet again. "I am called Beh'Grak," he said, rising back up to his full height, "but most find it easier to simply refer to me as Grak."

"That's an interesting name ... Grak," she said. "I'm Katherine LaRoche, but my friends call me Kath."

"Kath ..." he repeated. He inclined his head again. "A beautiful name, if I may be so bold."

She nodded slowly, lowering her eyes to his chest. "Flattery?" she asked, pursing her lips into a wry smile and shifting her eyes back up to his.

He felt a faint chill which was quickly dispelled as she began to laugh quietly. "Relax," she said, putting a hand on his upper arm. "I'm kidding." He managed to keep his expression pleasant despite the slight shock. She regarded him more seriously for a moment. "I appreciate the compliment, you know."

She tugged on him as she turned aside, walking slowly as he kept pace abreast of her. "Have you eaten yet?" she asked.

He made a show of licking his lips, trying not to excessively loll his tongue outside his mouth. "I have not," he said, "but I could."

She bobbed her head in agreement, the lock of blue-green hair caressing her cheek. "I know a place that does a really good carnivore dish," she advised.

* * *

He was exceptionally good company, she'd found, in the few hours that she'd come to know him. Articulate, well-educated, and polite to a fault. Although she'd caught him out of the corner of her eye a few times, looking at something other than her face.

She didn't mind, she thought to herself. He was far from overbearing with his charm, and if he had any designs on wanting more than friendship, he wasn't being aggressive in his approach.

They had gone to Smokies near the Marina, and found that they both shared a taste for slow-smoked beef. Grak, on the other hand, had neither tried shrimp nor oysters, and he tucked into both with appetite. She'd watched him eat in his measured, polite way, taking a curious pleasure in how he enjoyed himself.

From his other knowledge of life and customs on Earth, she found it curious that he didn't know that oysters had a reputation for aphrodisia. When she'd told him, he'd looked absolutely mortified, as though she'd be offended.

He took it in good humor when she'd pointed out that it would be as much her own fault - hypothetically, of course - if anything might happen, since she'd also had the oysters.

Afterward, they had gone walking on the waterfront, feeling the breeze from the Pacific and talking about their experiences, and their lives as the sun set in the distance. The glow of the sun on his tawny pelt caught him rather well, she thought. More importantly, he gave off the impression that she could trust him - with secrets, with aspirations, with just about anything. That and the fact that he was handsome were stirring sensations in her that she hadn't felt in a while.

At length, he dipped his ears almost apologetically and reached into a small opening in his cloak, withdrawing what looked like a small digital device, and making a few casual pokes and prods at an illuminated screen on its front. His expression remained genial, although his eyes spoke more of wistfulness than anything else. He released the small device, which dropped to his thigh and then began to retreat along a thin tether from whence it had come.

He spoke almost regrettably. "I believe I have only a few minutes before I must consider boarding a transport for home," he said, not meeting her eyes. "I wish that this might continue," he added, conversationally, although his tone suggested there was more to his wish than mere propriety.

She looked at him and canted her head slightly to one side. She wondered if he could tell how conflicted she was. It wasn't just nervousness in her scent, no sir. If he had any inkling of how much she ached right now, he was being very gentlemanly about it ...

She made a decision.

"You don't have to go," she said.

He turned puzzled eyes on her, although his ears lifted slightly.

"I could help arrange your transport later," she offered. "I just thought ... you know, maybe you would like something to drink. We could ..." she swallowed. "We could go back to my apartment, if you want ... ?"

He must've been feeling as nervous as she had, because he hesitated for perhaps a little longer than the air of confidence he'd been maintaining would've called for. "I ... I have no wish to impose," he pointed out, "although I am very grateful for your hospitality this evening."

She shook her head. "You wouldn't be imposing, Grak," she said, trying to sound like she wasn't nervous.

She was hoping that he'd accept.

She was hoping that he wouldn't make her say, "Please."

He was watching her with silently questioning eyes, but as if he was sensing her emotions, he blinked in that slow, languid way he did when he was relaxed, and nodded. "Very well," he agreed, "a drink, in celebration of this most enjoyable of evenings. I need not leave right away."

* * *

Kath summoned a surface taxi for them, which took them from the waterfront to her off-campus apartment, and they resumed their former conversation on the short ride.

She had an undercurrent of anxiety that he could clearly sense in her speech, but before the ride was over, he reached across the seat between them and gently took her smaller hand in his, giving what he estimated was a comforting squeeze. At this, she seemed to relax, and they were able to resume their easy banter over the weather and the sights along their route through the city.

At last, they arrived at a modestly-landscaped apartment complex, where they paid off the taxi, and stepped across the coolness of soft grass to where she unlocked a ground-level door to admit the two of them.

After a short elevator ride and an equally short walk through quiet corridors, they arrived at a door which bore the initials 'K.L.' and which she approached. He could hear as she took a deep breath, and then pressed her palm against the door's reader to unlock it. She turned her eyes on him - and they were dancing with something like excitement - and said, "Come on in."

He thanked her sincerely, and stepped in after her.

The cool of the room was a striking contrast, even to the cool of the evening outdoors, although he guessed that this was owing to the thickness of her fur and how warm she might otherwise feel. She invited him to sit in the guest area adjoining her small kitchen, where he patiently watched as she busied herself at cabinets and refrigerator alike.

"Something you should try," she offered, "since you've never been to California before." She held up a bottle of some golden-amber liquid, and two almost pitifully small cups made of glass. "Have you heard of tequila?"

He had, but felt it was simpler to let her explain. "It's distilled south of here, in the places where the state of Mexico used to exist before Union," she offered. "It's ... well, it's strong, and it's unique."

She brought the bottle and the cups to where he was sitting in front of a low table, and poured a measure for each of them.

"Is it popular among the students at the University?" he asked, to fill the silence.

She nodded, protruding the fullness of her lower lip in a jovial expression. "Let's just say it's been known to start fights and awkward romances," she said. She picked up her glass. "'Best not to sip it," she advised.

He picked up the small glass - and it was almost too small to comfortably handle in his oversized fingers - and steadied it carefully. The strong odor of grain alcohol reached his nostrils. Potent, he thought, but not unusually so. "What shall we drink to?" he asked, drawing on his knowledge of Terran customs.

She considered for a moment. "To your first trip to Earth," she offered, raising her glass by a fraction and setting it in the space between them.

He brought his glass to hers in a minute clink! and responded with, "May it be the first of many."

She opened her jaws wide and tossed the measure of liquor into her waiting maw, swallowing quickly.

Out of the confidence he'd gained living an adventurous military lifestyle in his earlier years, and having no shortage of experience with alcohol, he made to imitate her quickly, pouring the drink into his open mouth and swallowing quickly.

It wasn't the strength of the alcohol, nor the burning in his throat which surprised him - it was the vileness of the taste of the other ingredients. He drew in a breath, which did not help overmuch.

She was watching him coolly, and the absurdity of the moment struck him so that he could do nothing except utter the start of a laugh before erupting into a fit of coughing.

For his own benefit, he rose to his feet and bent over at the waist for a moment, so that he could better work the spasm out of his throat and regain his breath.

As he worked to regain his composure, he felt her soft hand against his shoulder, and he looked up to see her emerald eyes clouded with genuine concern. "Are you okay?" she asked. Her tail, bristling to almost twice its usual thickness with her anxiousness, was lashing about just beyond her shoulder.

He waved a hand to dismiss her concerns, and took a moment to regain his breath as he swallowed a few times to rid his mouth of the aftertaste. "I am fine," he explained, "and I have partaken of stronger drink than that before." He stooped slightly, and set the glass down on the table, next to the bottle. "I must confess, Kath, that I believe you when you say this vile drink can cause strife and complicate relations."

* * *

The relief that flooded through her was enough to cause her to stifle a fit of laughter behind a cupped hand. At the prospect of nearly causing him to choke on a well-meant toast, and in the mock anger that came afterward, her tailtip darted forward and batted him across the ear.

He brushed a clawed hand through his mane as that same ear twitched a few times. His expression was one of mirth, however. "Have I offended your tail?" he asked.

She tittered with modest laughter, feeling a slight flush at the tip of her nose and ears. She lowered her hand from her mouth. "Sometimes it has a mind of its own," she explained, gently inclining her tailtip toward him again.

He responded by gently brushing it aside with the back of his hand. She giggled, and insinuated it back under his wrist and into the space between them. His lips parted slightly in a casual, nonthreatening way, and he made to grab at her tailtip again, as it darted to and fro.

She whipped it through his grasping fingers, trailing it across her right shoulder. He followed it, sure enough, and before he could stop himself his hands were both occupied with her twitching tailtip as it slipped behind her neck.

She was aware of how close he was ... he was really quite warm, and in amongst the gentle expression on his face there was something like tenderness, now that all the nervousness had been worked out. She'd been holding back her own curiosity until now, but from where her hands had been folded at her middle, she lifted them until her fingers were just barely touching his waist.

At the touch, he seemed to come aware that a moment had come upon them. His arms, not even touching her up until now, slid around her neck and she found herself with her breasts pressed against his chest. He really was muscled under that cloak of his.

A slight sigh escaped her, as the pressure on her nipples stoked the flushed, trembling sensation in her chest and her belly. Her fingers reached, sliding around his waist and to the middle of his back. She closed her eyes, and lifted her chin.

For answer, he made a rumbling, purring sound deep in his chest and dipped his muzzle to hers. Tentatively, his tongue darted out and made what felt like a nervous foray to her lips. She answered by opening her mouth wide and slid a hand up through the thickness of his mane to the back of his head, pulling him closer. He, in turn, wound a broad palm around to the back of her neck and held her firmly as they kissed.

In their enthusiasm their teeth clicked together more than once, as they probed and licked with their tongues. Their mingled breath was feverishly hot, hot enough to match the delirium she was feeling. She hoped he was feeling just as good.

She reached back and slipped the pin from her hair, tossing it to one side as her hair tumbled down to her shoulders. At this, he pulled back only slightly, and she opened her eyes again to find him regarding her with awe.

"Beautiful ..." he husked.

She purred with delight, but for answer she ran her free hand over his chest, feeling the muscles under his cloak. "You're pretty handsome yourself, you know." She busied herself with the clasp at his neck, and before long she had his cloak unfastened to reveal more of his body. As she'd suspected, he had muscles upon muscles under that pelt of his. As she hungrily ran pawpads over his pectorals and the ribbing of his flat stomach, he inhaled sharply and tightened his grip on her.

He recovered quickly, though, and bent his head down to the spot on her neck just beneath the angle of her jaw, and began to nibble and lick gently. At this sensation, she closed her eyes again, as she felt a spreading warmth join the ache in her breasts and her loins.

She wanted him. She wanted him now, and she didn't care if he was embarrassed, or flattered, or indecisive.

She carefully unsheathed her claws and gave both his chest and back a teasing rake as she moistened her lips with her tongue. "I'm going to my bedroom," she breathed. "I'd -- ... I'd like you to join me," she added, in what she hoped was a voice laden with promise.

If his manner had been hesitant before, he showed little sign of it now. As his cloak gave up its weakening hold on his shoulders and fell into a crumpled heap on the floor, his arms slipped from around her neck, but he kept a grip on her until, at arm's length, he was still holding onto her hands. As she released him and began to turn away, she saw that she'd made a good impression on him - beneath his eager gaze and slightly heaving chest, and straining against the loincloth common to the Chakri mode of dress, his erection was obvious and insistent.

He couldn't see her purse her lips in amusement as she started for her bedroom. This was turning out better than she'd hoped, in spite of her nervousness. But she was determined she was going to enjoy this young male if it killed her.

She paused in the doorway, stretching her arms up to the top of the frame and flexing the muscles of her shoulders for his enjoyment. She turned her head to look over her left shoulder, where she could just see him just out of the corner of her eye, and flicked her tail so that it momentarily masked her lips.

"Undress me?" she invited.

* * *

The effect was like watching an artist dance, he realized. She moved with a grace so fluid that he could scarcely believe she was at all shy, or inhibited.

He could also scarcely believe he was in this situation. A female of obvious beauty and intelligence, as exotic as she clearly was, and she was inviting him into her bedchamber.

He realized, after the thudding of his heartbeat in his ears had slowed, that she'd asked him to undress her. He felt that if he tried to say something, he might trip over his own tongue, so he merely put the effort into keeping his ears perked up, and crossed the room to where she was standing in the frame of the door.

With a slow movement that belied any calm he was feeling, he carefully rested his hands on her waist, stepping in close to her until the softness of her flesh was resting against his chest. A barely audible sigh escaped her, as she tipped her head back, her hair spilling toward his face. He lifted his hands momentarily, working at the knot behind her neck, and then he carefully let the material of her sarong fall away.

She appeared to be in a world all her own, eyes closed and her breath coming quickly, but he marked how her claws had tightened on the doorframe. Whether of its own volition or under her control, her tail swept up and coyly stroked his chin before tracing a serpentine path down his chest and stomach, halting at the waist of his loincloth. This last was strained to near bursting, he was certain. His youth had been rife with sexual excitement, but this was the first in a very long time that he was so rigid that he hurt.

Patience. Patience was called for, he knew. He slipped his arms around her, cupping her breasts in his hands and carefully teasing her nipples with the pads of his fingers. She was even more well-endowed than she'd at first looked, her breasts full and soft, and she gave the slightest of moans as he felt her nipples stiffen slightly under his touch.

She released the doorframe with her right hand, threading her fingers through his as he gently massaged her right breast. A moment later, her left hand joined his as well, but she brought this hand across the softer, plush fur of her chest to her right breast as she trailed her right hand to her midriff. She had a woman's figure there - rounded and with the padding a mature female ought to have, unlike so many of the juvenile females he'd encountered over the years.

She was so soft and inviting that he strangely felt some of his tension melting away. He was still eager, with her rump so teasingly close to his erection and her body responding so well to his touch, but he found that he no longer ached. He desired her, but he no longer felt he would burst if he didn't have her now.

She tightened her fingers around his, as he threaded his fingers through the fur of her belly and down to where he felt the beginnings of her mound. She was quite unbelievably hot to his touch, and the sound she made as she sucked in a breath between her teeth reassured him that he was at least not treading on dangerous ground. With the slight hiss from her lips, she arched her back slightly and tipped forward at her waist by a fraction, backing up to him and fairly forcing the cleft of her rump at him. If her tail had been flexible and darting before, it had stiffened and now lay along her spine, keeping itself out of the way as the two felines pressed themselves closer together.

Yet, just as soon as he had touched her sex and felt the encouraging change in her posture, she abruptly twisted in his grasp so that she was facing him again, and grabbing him by his mane she forced her tongue into his mouth and hungrily pulled at his lips. She was breathing hard now, and while she ground her muzzle into his, he felt her slide her right hand deftly down his stomach, through the waist of his loincloth, and with a quick movement she had freed his head and shaft from the garment. There was the sound of a slap! as his stiffness sprang up and struck him just below his navel. Without so much to hold it in place, his loincloth tried valiantly to cling to his waist, but fell to his ankles before his erection stopped quivering.

The relief was considerable, although despite how her demeanor had put him at ease, he was now feeling vaguely apprehensive again. It was more or less at this stage that he'd learned to cope with rejection, as with his past experiences he had found that having a larger male with a rampant erection in close proximity made more than a few females uneasy.

She kept up her attentions on his muzzle as her pawpads gently appraised his full length and girth. When at last she pulled her face away, with her hand still gripping his prick, her lips were pursed into a sly smile and her eyes danced with what looked like hunger. "You're gifted," she assured him. "Let me look at him."

Without letting go of him, she pulled him in the direction of her bed, and sat him down on the edge. Her pawpads were soft, and her hand gentle as she stroked and squeezed him in a teasing motion. As excited as he was, she wasn't quite stimulating him enough to bring him to a climax ... not yet. He wasn't sure what might happen in that event anyhow - for truth, he'd been aroused since meeting her earlier at noon, and it was quite possible that if he was to find release now, he would make quite the mess.

She motioned for him to move backward a pace, so that he was resting comfortably against the cushions at the head of her bed, and as he did so, she followed him onto the bed on all four limbs, with a mischievous and almost predatory glint in her eyes.

"Kath," he whispered. "You ..."

"Shh," she reassured him. "Just lie still. I'm going to enjoy myself here ..."

She took him again in her hand, and this time held him lightly as she stroked and appraised his member with her other hand. In the gentle lighting of her bedroom, he could see that her tail was once again bobbing to one side and the other, as if mesmerized by the goings-on below. Lying prone as she was, with her back slightly arched, and her curvaceous rump partway in the air, her face was only a handspan or two from where her hands were lightly toying with his erection. She took a light sniff of the air between them, inhaling his musk and he was relieved to see that she found it agreeable. If anything, her fur seemed to bristle ever so slightly, and her pupils went somewhat wide.

As she regarded him with soft, half-lidded eyes, she bent her head toward his prick and, pursing her lips into a soft 'O,' placed a very human kiss on the shaft of his maleness.

His breath left him in a huff! and he felt the muscles of his stomach tighten. If he had felt merely warm and tingling from one end of his chest to the other, a purely electric sensation flooded him from the tips of his ears down to the base of his shaft behind his sac. He could do nothing except watch, with what he hoped was an appreciative expression on his otherwise shocked face.

Kath slipped a hand beneath his shaft and cupped his scrotum gently, while her other hand trailed her fingertips over the top of his prick. As he watched, she stuck out her tongue and laved the whole length of it from the base of his shaft to the underside of his head, and it was all he could do to keep his hips from rising off the bed beneath him. It felt so good that he would've found it painful had it lasted much longer than the moment it took.

She had more in store for him, however. Settling her tongue back at the bottom of her muzzle, she regarded his maleness as if to gauge length and breadth, and then she closed her eyes and opened her jaws wide. For an instant, in the flash of light from her polished fangs, he was gripped by a sure and certain fear that she was about to devour his member whole.

The crown of her head, with its lock of highlighted hair flowing past her cheek, bobbed down in a firm, authoritative motion. Instantly, he was buried in the depths of her mouth as the latter half of his prick disappeared entirely, and the former half lay cradled by the softness of her tongue. She made no sound of discomfort as her lower lip met the velvet fur of his scrotum, and as her nose pressed firmly into the trail of fur leading up to his navel.

She held herself there for what seemed to Grak like an eternity, and it dawned on him that for the first time in his life, he was receiving what the Terran gutter language of the day would have termed a blowjob.

The pleasure was exquisite - the roughness of her tongue, the slickness of her saliva, and the soft heat of her mouth. If he hadn't been afraid for his maleness a moment ago, and if he hadn't been utterly shocked at this new and unexpected pleasure a slight bit more recently than that, he imagined he would've climaxed into her waiting mouth without so much as a warning.

"Kath ..." he groaned.

"Unnnnhhh," she murmured around his cock. As abruptly as she had taken him into her mouth, she equally slowly slipped him from her mouth and eased him from between her perilously close incisors and canine teeth, to emerge wet and unscathed, standing erect and throbbing above his reclining form. "Relax," she said, "I'm not going to hurt you."

He drew a shaky breath. "I am not worried about you hurting me," he indicated.

She dipped her ears in a semblance of a smile. "Grak, I'm not worried about what'll happen if you come in ... my mouth," she chuckled. "Besides," she added, flicking the tip of her tongue momentarily across the tip of his member, "I'm enjoying this too much to stop."

* * *

She could see the way that he was trembling slightly, as she kept him stimulated and firmly erect in her hand. There was the slight pulse of his heartbeat that she could feel through his testicles. Sizeable ones, too. That explained how he got to be so tall and muscular.

Inwardly she sighed with delight. This was one of her most favorite aspects of sex - how she could pleasure a male and feel his body respond. Where her thumb and forefinger were gently circled around the base of his shaft, he was twitching in an uneven rhythm.

The ache in her breasts had subsided to a pleasant warmth, now that she was enjoying his touch. Unless he was oblivious, too, there was no way he could fail to smell the wetness leaking out of her sex. She was wet enough she ought to be dripping.

She cocked her head a fraction to one side, admiring his cock. That too, was sizeable, and she had to say she was delighted to see it up close. It was so dark as to be almost black, as the naked flesh of all Chakri tended to be, but it glistened with the strain of the blood pulsing through it, and with the moisture of her mouth.

She gave a brief, insincere prayer to whatever gods were handling sexual opportunity this evening, and opened her jaws again.

He slid into her mouth easily, as before, and she thrust her tongue forward so that it cradled his length and was barely able to touch the softness of his scrotum. His faint groan was barely audible, and yet it sounded like the best compliment he could give, in accompaniment to how his hips rose an imperceptible fraction toward her mouth.

He tasted wonderful.

She was surprised to feel a hand at her face, and she reopened her eyes partway to see him propped up a bit on her pillows. The broad, warm surface of his left hand was stroking her cheek, and toying with her hair slightly. In what light there was, she could only faintly see his gaze, but it was relaxed and appreciative, as she'd hoped it would be.

Well, only partly. If he'd appeared to be halfway between agony and bliss, and if his cock had begun to pulse in her mouth, she'd have been more satisfied. But she wasn't in a hurry.

His hand slipped through her hair to the base of her skull.

She was impressed at how bold he was getting. Normally she'd have assumed he'd be nervous and passive through her gentle ministrations. From his reaction, she'd have guessed this was the first time he'd been given oral sex in this way, but he was keeping himself under tight rein for a beginner.

For answer, she bobbed her head back down and opened her jaws wider, lapping her tongue against the base of his shaft. The head of his cock was firmly nestled against the back of her throat and she reveled in how much he had to give - how much he offered her in exchange for her excitement.

She arched her back and wriggled her rump slightly. As much as she wanted this to continue forever, she knew that at some point she'd have to surrender her willpower and put that luscious phallus of his into one of her other holes.

At that point, he could take charge all he wanted.

As if he could hear her thoughts, though, he tightened his fingers in her hair and tugged upward. She came up off his cock with a quiet slurp! and looked at him with questioning, unoffended eyes. She faintly licked her lip where a strand of his fluid had stretched momentarily, and then snapped, laying a few droplets on her muzzle.

He flexed at his waist, reaching past her shoulders and over her back, and seized her tail in one hand. Before she could make any sound of protest, he'd already begun pulling her gently to her right. His touch was firm, although far from painful, and she could do nothing but shuffle on her knees as she began an awkward counterclockwise movement.

From above, she was sure that her body, his body, and her tail were collectively forming the picture of what was a very obscene clock. That was all the time she had to think about what was happening before he seized her by her right ankle and roughly spun her so that she was once again lined up with his body, stretched out on her bed.

His body made for a comfortable base on which to prop herself, with her breasts squished against his stomach and her mound resting against his chest. Her knees could barely reach the bed on either side of him, but as he still had a firm hold of her it was plain that he could see everything she had to offer - her curvaceous rump, her plush tail, and the glistening petals of her female flower.

She hoped he found her pleasing to the eye.

His voice floated past her waiting sex to her ears, and he sounded more confident than she'd expected. "Beautiful," he repeated, releasing her ankle and casually massaging the pads of one of her feet. "I can tell that you take pride in your appearance, and it is only fitting that you should." He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the slick coat of polish she wore on her claws, to match the color of her hair, and he gently plucked at the sharpness of her dewclaw before resuming his hold on her ankle, massaging his broad fingers into the muscle of her calf.

She found herself almost missing the view of his flat, muscled stomach and his very handsome, juvenile face. She was still, thankfully, within a hand's breadth of his cock, which was still eagerly erect and waiting for her renewed attentions, but as he still had a firm hold of her, she found herself hesitating.

She couldn't see the look on his face, but he managed a tone of voice that was suave. "Your scent tells me you have been waiting for this for far too long, Kath." She felt the slight brush of his breath on the fur around her nether lips, and he inhaled softly. "I ... I have never had any female touch me before in the way you have. My dagger has never before been taken for a female to taste." He exhaled in a soft, breathy huff! that tickled her womanhood and caused her to twitch her sex involuntarily. "But I grow weary of laying here idle." She felt the slightly coarse pads of his palms against the bottom of her thighs.

"Let us taste each other, then."

She felt the slightly cold surface of his nose brush against her asshole for the briefest of moments before his tongue, broad and only slightly rough, dragged its way clear from her clitoral hood to the very furthest edge of her outer lips.

She sank her head down into the cleft between his thigh and his groin and stifled a very unladylike, guttural groan of animalistic pleasure as her back arched, and her thighs twitched. She rocked backward partway, grinding her clitoris against his lips.

This had not been in her mind when she'd woken in the morning and prepared herself for a day at school.

He lapped at the pool of nectar which had pooled at the cleft of her inner lips, and then pressed his tongue against the spot just beneath her button, quivering his tongue as he did so.

She stifled a gasp but only barely succeeded, drinking in heavily of his musk as she did so. She could swear that he was trying to disconcert her, and with the talent he'd gathered at lavishing attention on her muff, he was almost succeeding.

Almost.

She tossed back her head momentarily, just far enough to flick her hair out of the way, and bent toward his erection again. From this reversed angle, she could only stroke the trail of fur leading down to his shaft and tease it between her fingers, as she used her other hand to stroke his length and squeeze the sinew bulging on the underside of his ... dagger? Was that what he'd called it?

'Funny euphemism for a cock. His was more like a sword. And she was more than capable of taking him down to ... the ... hilt ...

His attention at her sex slackened for a moment as he groaned, the sensation of being enveloped to full depth in her mouth being too much of a distraction. Seizing on this, she began to bob her head up and down with enthusiasm, humming an agreement with his expression of pleasure. She pressed her tongue against the ridge at his cocktip, and slid her tongue around to the sensitive underside.

His breath came in more hurried exhalations against her nether lips as she plied the more crafty tricks at her disposal against his cock. For someone new to having his cock worshipped in such a way, he was showing quite a lot of control.

She abruptly felt his hands release her thighs, and slid under her to grip at the front of her waist. He fairly lifted her rear end until she could barely reach the bed with her knees, and then he dove hungrily again nose-first into her snatch.

His talent was undeniable, as he drove his tongue past her clitoris in a motion that made a slk! slk! slk! sound between their bodies. As if to demonstrate to her that he was far from outclassed, she felt a finger join his tongue at her sex, submerging itself to the third knuckle and bending toward -

She tried to keep from biting him as she tried to gasp around his member. The shock of having his pawpad pressed against her G-spot was almost more than she could deal with, at the moment. She'd worked herself into a steady rhythm and his prick, now fairly drenched with her saliva and towering over his body like a lewd obelisk, was even larger than it had been earlier, and bulging with veins all over. She licked her lips and savored their combined fluids as some of the excess dripped from her fangs. She tried not to think about the burgeoning sensations from her sex.

If he kept that up, she would probably squirt all over his chest and face, and she'd much rather enjoy that kind of release with his cock in her waiting pussy than in her mouth.

She reached back with one hand and sank her claws lightly into his ribcage. He made the most endearing grunt into her folds as his pace of slackened, and there was the sound of him taking an impromptu breath of air.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Without waiting for an answer, she lightly clambered forward on her hands and knees, and flicked her tail lazily for his benefit. She made an effort to twist her head around and was rewarded by the sight, just out of the corner of her eye, of his eager but attentive expression, his muzzle and the tuft of his beard dripping with her juices.

She drew her tail tightly to one side and laid a hand on the curve of her buttock.

"Take me ..." she breathed, closing her eyes and baring her throat to the world.

She had barely finished imploring him to do exactly what she wanted when she felt him shove her forward with the muscular expanse of his chest. Her wanton display for him nearly forgotten, she caught herself as she sprawled on the bed elbows- and breasts-first.

She didn't need to see behind her to know that he was towering above her, as she could feel the rigid wall of muscle of his abdomen pressing against the soft, yielding fur and flesh of her rump. As pleasant as that was, and as much as she enjoyed him running his very sensual and skilled hands over her ass and the small of her back, she was also aware of his prick, bobbing and twitching just below her folds.

"May I?" he whispered, unable to keep a sort of plaintive quality from what was otherwise a dumb question in her mind.

She gathered her wrists and elbows up and brought herself back to supporting her weight on all fours, shifting slightly as she spread her knees wider by a fraction. She rocked backward partway and slid the moistness of her folds along his shaft. When he still remained motionless, she craned her neck to look over her shoulder and perked her ears up. "It's alright," she explained, "I'm safe." She bared her teeth slightly. "But if you don't put that thing inside me right now, I'm going to pounce on you."

The impression that he was reading her thoughts was only strengthened by his putting the base of her tail in a strong grip and holding her steady as he reached down with his opposite hand and worked the head of his cock up and down her slit. Her head sagged and she could do nothing except bite her tongue as he stimulated her folds and brushed himself across her clitoris in easy movements.

As she was about to rock backward to emphasize her needs, he settled himself at her opening, replaced his other hand on her hip, and tugged on her tail.

Despite how wet she was, his size made for slow passage as he sank into her. Her jaw dropped and she formed a silent gasp with her mouth as he slid past the most sensitive parts of her body to stretch her almost painfully.

It also felt unbelievably good. She could feel every gather, every vein, and every ridge on his shaft as he withdrew to where only his cocktip remained inside her ... and then he rocked his hips forward to fill her again. This time, his extremity nudged her cervix politely aside while she felt the softness of his sac press firmly against her clitoris.

She was about to tell him not to move. If anything, she wanted him as still as the unyielding statue his remarkable body represented, while she backed up to him. Before she could form the words on her lips, she felt him incline toward her at the hips, and a hand seized her hair.

Surely this was an act for her benefit, she thought. The shy and politic young male she'd met at lunch was performing for her, playing the part of the dominating and unyielding conqueror. He had her impaled on his phallus, one hand gripping her tail and another gripping her hair, and she was utterly at his mercy.

He thrust forward, although not without care - his heavy sac swinging to slap against her clitoris, and his prick sliding through her to deliver a blow against her deepest depths.

She wasn't sure which was better - the exquisite friction of his passage, or the way in which his thrust rang against her senses like a hammer against a bell.

Her open mouth let out a cry as her throat gave up trying to hold back what she'd been wanting to express. It was halfway between pleasure and pain, and she was damned if she didn't feel both at once.

His fingers tightened on her hair as he thrust again, this time hitting her rump with his pelvis and forcing another moan from her. He fell into an easy rhythm of deep, powerful thrusts and matched the way in which she rocked herself toward him.

Whether he could feel it or not, her thighs were quivering and jerking with her movements and the inner trembling she could feel in her voice as she gasped to keep her breath could only mean that she was fast approaching release.

"Grak!" she cried. "Don't stop! Don't - aaah!" Words failed her as she sank her face to the bed again, stifling the beginnings of a continuous low groan that grew in intensity. She tightened around his shaft and felt herself flooding with wetness.

He didn't disappoint. His thrusts turned into pistoning strokes as he bent over her arched back, growling into her ear as he seized the scruff of her neck in his teeth and bit down sharply. His pace quickened, matching the urgency she felt as her body climbed inexorably to the approaching peak and ...

... all of her senses were flooded with the most pleasurable white light, and she was only dimly aware of throwing back her head and yowling with joy. As the first crest of this wave faded, another pulsed from her sex and filled her, lifting her and her trembling body to the same height again. And again.

She lost count of how many of these glorious tremors shook her entire body, before she gradually became aware of her body again, and how her arms and legs were shaking with the strain of holding her upright.

She sure as hell wasn't walking anywhere for a while, that much was certain.

She realized that he'd released her hair, as well as her tail - not that either were doing much more than hanging limp at the moment. His hands, which were still warm and soft to the touch, were lightly stroking the muscles on either side of her neck as ... Dammit, the bastard was actually grooming her scruff with his tongue.

This last paused momentarily as he whispered into her ear, "Are you alright, Kath?"

She reached up a hand and slid it past his cheek, winding her fingers into his mane. "Fuck," she murmured, eventually catching her breath. "That ... that was something else."

He shifted slightly, not withdrawing from her, but easing some of the pressure on her sensitive bits. She realized that he was still erect, pulsing gently in time with his heartbeat, but what she felt wasn't quite as if he'd climaxed inside her -

She surmised. The dampness she felt at her thighs and trickling down into the fur of her mound was her own. It was just as well he hadn't made her climax earlier, she thought. She might have nearly drowned him.

Although she suspected that he probably would've borne this without complaint.

She sagged, resting her cheek against the coolness of the duvet beneath them, and basking in the warm afterglow of what she felt was one of the most intense orgasms of her experience. She was no tramp, mind you, but she hadn't been made to feel this good in a long, long while.

"Mmmm," she murmured from the side of her muzzle, "aren't you going to continue?" She wriggled slightly, the slight twisting of her rump giving his shaft a minute squeeze and the impression of a slow stroke.

He was silent for so long that she could begin to believe the shy Grak had returned. "I ... I am glad just to be here, Kath." His weight on her back eased, and she felt his hands on her hips. His thumbs described slow, easy circles, tracing the largest of the rosettes at the base of her spine where her tail emerged. "I do not wish to impose," he added.

Her eyes fairly rolled back their sockets, although he couldn't see this from where he was kneeling behind her, and she chuckled with the poetic irony of the moment. "You tease," she chided him, gathering up what she could of her strength and giving his prick a squeeze with the walls of her sex so that he hissed audibly. She braced herself against her left arm, and slid her right hand under her plush fur to reach beneath herself, sliding her pawpads past the dampness on her mound and her sensitive nub to cradle his sac. "If you don't make me come again, I'm going to be offended," she added, in mock annoyance.

Her goad seemed to have the desired effect on him. His grip on her hips tightened, and he hauled her back upright from where she had sagged partway toward the bed. With her head and shoulders now on the bed, however, the angle was different, and the pressure of his erection inside her assailed her senses in ways subtly different but equally good as before. She released the underside of his sac and instead spread her outer lips with her fingers, splaying herself against him and exposing more of her clitoris to his touch.

If her body had been responding favorably to him when he'd penetrated her the first time, his renewed efforts made her shiver with delight at the prospect of another orgasm. While he might have been holding back for her benefit before, he was building to an even more enthusiastic pace now. The damp fur of his scrotum slapped against the fingers framing her nub, and his pelvis was just about making the padded flesh of her rump and flanks quiver with each impact.

His composure wasn't quite holding up either - his breath was now coming in audible grunts and his speed was building rapidly. The fact that he was losing control as he pistoned in and out of her sex was only that much more stimulating to her senses, and she made an inaudible squeal of glee as she buried her face in the bedding again.

She tried her best to match his strokes as she backed up to him, but it was all she could do to focus on the battering he was giving her depths and the throbbing of her clitoris as he slid to and fro through her passage. She hadn't all that far to go, after all, since the first one.

As she began to feel the rising crest of her second orgasm reaching a point of no return, his thrusts turned into energetic bucking and his claws clenched painfully on her hips. The sensation was only a minor contrast to everything else feeding the bursting, burgeoning sensation in her loins as she heard him cry out in what sounded like pain.

"_Nggh!_Kath!"

His body slowed and shuddered to a halt as he thrust one last time into her, as deeply as he could manage, and the first wave of her climax hit her with the same intensity as the pulsing she felt as he began filling her with his seed. With the knowledge that he too had reached his finish, she loosed her voice and sighed his name against the duvet as she shook and shuddered with her own.

They were a long time joined like this, as their bodies twitched and jerked their way through a series of aftershocks. She felt deliriously happy, in addition to feeling spent, and she hoped that he felt just as good.

Rather than collapsing onto her back, as she'd expected he might do, she felt him release his grip on her hips and lower his weight onto his hands as he braced them on either side of her. He was fairly panting now, breathing hard with his exertions and faintly wobbling in his knees.

She wasn't walking anywhere for a spell - that was for goddamn certain. She couldn't even feel her legs. Not that she cared. She was still laying quiescent in the afterglow of her second orgasm of the night, and she couldn't imagine anything except maybe falling gently to her right with him, first onto the bed and then into a deep sleep.

It was almost becoming a motif, how he anticipated her needs so easily. He eased his weight off his left arm and, taking hold of her shoulder, eased her down so that they were laying together - her nestled in the curve of his body and with his arms wrapped around her.

"Mmmm ..." she rumbled, dreamily. "Do you read minds?" she asked, absently, lightly brushing the fur of his forearm with the pad of a forefinger.

He chuckled. "No," he reassured her, "we cannot read minds."

She settled her spine closer to him and gently laid the length of her tail along his flank, so that its tip almost brushed against his ear.

"Not without training," he added.