No CGI (female) 7
Story by Tagenar on SoFurry
Just bros bonding. No subtext here.
No CGI (female) 7
by tagenar (https://www.furaffinity.net/user/tagenar | https://tagenar.sofurry.com/)
{Just bros bonding. No subtext here.}
J laughed. “Well.” He dropped the gloves and spread his bare claws, six brown sickles at the end of his fingers. They looked like a dog’s claws, but as sharp as a cat’s.
“Hhhhhh, now it gets good.”
“What? Now?”
“Re[m]e[mb]er not to [b]e afraid to take hits. Your reaction is [m]ore i[mp]ortant.”
His arm dripped. Charles thought he could smell the sound of the drops falling to the dirt.
“Wow... um, J, that... That smells weird.”
“What? [M]y ar[m]?”
“It’s... Holy fuck it’s strong.”
J straightened. “How do you [m]ean?”
“I can smell that! Your scent is different. It’s.” He swallowed, and then he raised the alleged butter knife to his nose and took a whiff. “Fuck!”
Charles undid his pants and whipped it out. He was hard.
J blinked. His attack stance fell. “Charles, [p]ut the knife down.”
“Why?”
“Co[m]e closer. S[m]ell [m]y ar[m]. Tell [m]e exactly what you’re getting out of it. This isn’t a trick. I [pr]o[m]ise.”
Charles was trembling, but not at the prospect of getting closer to a dinosaur’s uncovered teeth and claws. Something about J’s blood. The same rush he’d felt before, when J was there to challenge him for T’s heat—it was similar but more intense.
He dropped the knife and crossed the distance. J held out his arm. Charles wasn’t sure how he should go about doing this. Hold the arm? Lean over and huff it? He settled on holding it by the wrist and sniffing.
He was so hard he ached. At the same time he wanted to punch something.
“Talk to [m]e, Charles.”
He gritted his teeth and backed away. He whipped out his dick and showed he was hard. “My legs. They’re not sore anymore.”
J folded his claws against his chest. “I felt it, too, the first ti[m]e I cut [m]y father when he taught [m]e. That’s testosterone [m]ixed with [bl]ood.”
“Fuck!”
Charles stomped over to the nearest tree and hammered it.
“Don’t hurt yourself. You feel invinci[b]le. That’s a nor[m]al reaction.”
Charles stormed over, raising his fist at J. The raptor ducked it and slashed. Two claws caught the human’s arm.
Now human blood stained the dirt.
J inhaled.
His slit began to drip. He growled.
Charles noticed and backed away.
J crouched low. “Our [b]rains are hard[w]ired to react to that s[m]ell. Evolution [p]u[mp]s us with even [m]ore hor[m]ones to [m]ake us fight harder to [p]rove ourselves worthy. We’ll only get it during [m]ating season. You feel it, too?”
“Yes! I’m alive! I’m the living dead at work, and I’m not much better at home watching TV! I want to feel this way all the time!”
J took in the scent as he looked the human up and down. “This is why we s[p]ar. It scratches these itches evolution left us with. We [m]ay be conscious creatures, but I agree with you, Charles. I like feeling alive, too.”
Charles knelt, picked up the knife, and crouched. Not only did his legs feel great, but he felt he could take flight if he jumped.
“No gloves?”
J raised his killing claws and stabbed the dirt. “Get the real knife, and take off your clothes. If you want [m]ore of this feeling, there’s only one way to get it.” He kicked backwards, scenting Charles from a distance, thick strings of clear liquid falling from his slit.
Charles retreated to the tree where the box leaned. He ripped it open and took out the knife. Sharpened and pristine, and about as long as his forearm. He left the sheath and the butter knife on the ground and stripped all the way down to his bare feet. Then he entered the clearing again with the waiting raptor. Charles noticed J was out of his slit, and the way he was moving...
The human crouched, brandishing a knife that felt way too heavy to be useful. Charles tested it as he danced and circled the dinosaur.
“How is it?” J said.
“This is a goddamn sword.”
“Get used to it. And again, don’t [b]e worried a[b]out taking hits. It doesn’t [m]ean you lose. I want to teach you how to react.”
The underbrush had long ago been trampled down. Charles expected to feel sticks and sharp things poking his feet, but the ground felt comfortable. He was conscious of the dirt and his sweat, but at the same time, J’s scent seemed to be pushing him up, and from the way J scented Charles from this distance, his own scent was pushing the dinosaur higher.
Charles felt weird holding a machete like this while hard. It felt unsafe, but he had never felt more alive.
Circling, and now J seemed much more animalistic, flashing claws, hissing, scenting, slit dripping. Sometimes he slashed the air between them.
Charles returned the gestures as best as he could, swinging the knife, getting used to it, baring his teeth and making whatever sounds felt appropriate.
After a few minutes of this, J straightened up. “Nice. Very nice. You’re hitting all the right notes, as hu[m]ans say. We’ll [m]ake a dinosaur out of you yet. Now, close the distance. Re[m]e[mb]er, no strikes to the neck. And I [p]ro[m]ise not to hit your delicate little [b]alls, no [m]atter how te[mp]ting a target they are.”
Charles shook them in reply.
Six yards. Four yards.
J jumped into the distance, aiming for the human’s flank. Charles ducked and slashed to the thigh.
The metal sang against flesh.
Charles almost stopped and stared but rose and tried to hop away. J was ready with a return slash across the stomach.
Each opened the distance to five yards.
Blood hit the ground.
J bled from his thigh.
Charles bled from his stomach.
Surface wounds.
They both paused and scented the air.
J bucked his hips.
Charles touched himself. He might’ve rubbed one out if not for J opening his mouth and flashing his teeth at the human.
“Fu-u-u-ck, hu[m]an! Are you feeling this?”
Charles felt his stomach. His hand came up stained red. “Christ, yes!” He scented the air. His muscles felt tighter. His heart raced. He didn’t have to jump to take flight now; he already was flying.
“Ignore it. Kee[p] circling.”
J danced. Charles countered his moves, and they held distance. The human watched the raptor’s cock bounce, strings of clear fluid flying off. Charles became aware of his own erection bobbing around, and the dinosaur eyeing it.
“Hhhhhhhhh, you really do feel it?”
“I’m flying!”
“Charles... This isn’t su[pp]osed to ha[pp]en to hu[m]ans. I can’t re[m]e[mb]er hearing a[b]out any [m]a[mm]al having this reaction. Are you sure you didn’t hatch?”
“How do you people think with all of this stuff going around?! Forget filming pornos—bottle these scents and sell them!”
“Charles, re[m]e[mb]er there there will [b]e [m]ultiple [m]ales s[p]arring at the sa[m]e ti[m]e for [m]ultiple fe[m]ales, and the forest fills with this scent. Everyone feels [b]igger. You’ll learn to focus.”
“Ffffff—” Charles held the knife up and charged, fully aware he was leaving himself open for obvious counter attacks.
J presented his flank.
The machete sang against his scales from shoulder to thigh.
While he drew back, J slashed down with one hand, and then the other. Claws raked the human’s chest. Then another set of claws made three lines down his cheek.
They settled. Charles didn’t leap backwards. Neither did J. They stood there, less than a yard apart.
J scented Charles.
The human sniffed.
The raptor inhaled in Charles’ direction. He dripped from his slit more, and the human noticed he swooned, just a little.
Charles rubbed himself. He was leaking pre at an alarming rate—more than he ever had before.
J held position, wiggling his claws. “I had the sa[m]e reaction when I [p]racticed with [m]y father. You [w]ant know what he did next?”
“What?”
“He hit me again and again so I would kee[p] fighting. Never forget the [p]rize. This isn’t a[b]out [p]osturing. It’s a[b]out the fe[m]ales watching. They’re getting so[m]ething out of this as well. You’re fighting for their sake, not yours. That’s what he told [m]e.”
Charles could barely breathe. His dick was pulsing and leaking. It had never done this before. “And then?”
J inhaled again. This time he almost lost his footing as he listed from side to side. He composed himself and faced Charles.
“It’s against etiquette to dwell on this.”
Charles smiled, lowering the knife. “It’s just the two of us.”
J folded his hands. “Yes, it is.” He stepped closer. “Charles... I... I hated [m]y father for... for [m]aking [m]e...”
Charles had risen out of attack stance and was walking toward the dinosaur just as slowly and cautiously as J was approaching him.
“No harm now, right?”
“How does this s[m]ell to you?”
The human dropped the machete and was now nose to nose with a bleeding Utahraptor. “Like... ragweed and sage, and it’s going straight to my dick and making me want to do laps around the sun.”
J was scenting the human’s bleeding stomach.
Charles rested a hand on the raptor’s head and bent low to take in the smell of the blood of his shoulder. His hips bucked.
J rose and bumped noses with him. Charles felt three fingers on his dick.
“Charles, re[m]e[mb]er, we’re rivals. Not ene[m]ies.”
The human couldn’t reach the raptor’s cock in this position, so he settled for laying a hand on his flank, across the open wound.
“What’s the difference?” As soon as he asked the question, Charles knew. “Never mind. What the hell.”
J straightened up and looked the human in the eye. “[M]y father lied to [m]e. It’s not just a[b]out T. It’s a[b]out co[mm]unity. Relating to other [m]ales. Took [m]e [m]ost of [m]y life to realize it.”
The raptor side-stepped. The human reached down and grasped J’s cock. The thing was so warm it made the rest of him feel cold.
“Is this a breach of etiquette?”
“Hhhhhhh, this is a rare scent, Charles. It’s [b]anned in so[m]e [p]arts of the world. My father would never let [m]e s[m]ell hi[m] like this. He [m]ade [m]e feel guilty for even asking. He s[m]elled so nice. It felt like he was [p]unishing [m]e for noticing. No, you won’t learn the way I had to. We’ll get used to it. Together. Save the ritual for the s[p]arring.”
J had practically wrapped around the human, scenting his wounds. Charles was doing the same to J’s blood-covered scales. He never knew blood could be stimulating until now, and with a hand on his dick and his hand on J’s hot tool, somehow it put him at complete ease.
They must have stood like this for half an hour, exploring one another, taking in each other’s scent, riding the waves higher and higher until the bleeding stopped.
They separated when it felt right. Charles looked down, picked up the blade, and held it. He scented it. Just a hint of the hormones he had taken in earlier.
J was scenting his claws. Licking them. Rubbing himself, bucking his hips. When he finished, he shot ropes that sailed halfway across the clearing. The sight made Charles jealous. Still holding the machete, Charles rubbed himself. He inhaled the blood on the blade, and instantly his hips tingled and he finished. His seed didn’t cross half the distance between them, but Charles finished harder and with more volume than he ever had before.
J scented it. He licked his lips.
“The scent of [m]y rival. [M]y father never allowed [m]e to know it could [m]ake [m]e feel this good. This is why I want you here, Charles. T’s heat, and now your scent. It [m]akes everything [b]etter. Rivalry isn’t hatred. Rivalry is so[m]ething [m]ore.”
Charles licked the blade. J curled his neck backwards. Charles was hard again. Seeing J retract into his slit while he was still up made him proud. He took a few hard breaths.
“J, you and T are making me a better person. I never want to go back to watching TV. Did Wal-Mart have more of these in stock?”
*
From her hiding place on the cliffs above, T could see everything they were doing. Most important, she could catch whiffs of their scents.
They were rivals.
The kind she had only heard stories about.
Males whose competitive drive pushed them apart and pulled them together as they struggled to justify the conflicting urges.
She watched them coming closer. Closer. Their mutual hatred of one another pushing them higher, making their muscles tense, their movements quicker.
All because of her.
She had climaxed at least twice just smelling them. The usual sparring seemed dull compared to this because these two were real.
They wanted her, but at the same time their scents affected one another. Seeing and smelling it happen was unlike anything she had experienced before.
It was real.
The animal ways they thought they were above—the urges their rituals were supposed to satisfy.
Here was a human going through the same thing. He acted like a teenager when she first met him, but smelling him now was like watching him become an adult in mere hours.
Meanwhile, observing J drop his guard in front of someone else and allowing himself to indulge in this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity made her croak in delight.
Unrehearsed. Uncontrolled. Like father teaching son, but this time free to explore the sensations males experienced. Truly explore them, without being forced to feel guilty about them.
J had long been jealous of E and R.
Charles had liberated him.
She couldn’t hear them. She wondered what they were planning.
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4539730.James\_L\_Steele