FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Sometimes it was hard to be a handler. Try as you might, there were always more missions, always more research, always hunters trying to run off and be a hero... But, at least after most of her searching was done, the Handler herself had made it a point to take plenty of time to take a load off and focus on her passions; new sights, new sounds, and, of course, new tastes! She might not have had the Excitable's appetite after he spent some time as a Dodogama, but she was regularly compared to a Pukei-Pukei, always wanting more food and more recipes. To this end, now that Shara Ishvalda had been taken care of and the Star was doing his own things with whatever monsters roamed around, the Handler spent her time in the Astera canteen, watching her favorite being in the town at work.

The Meowscular Chef looked up from his massive hot plate, letting his assistants do the work of letting the meat sizzle to perfection as he looked around the canteen. As much as he enjoyed being on the hunts, he had to admit that being able to help EVERYONE as a chef was much more rewarding than he would've ever thought all those years ago. And while he was starting to get on in years, he still had more life in him than even his old partner probably knew. He looked at those enjoying their meals or coming up to order, planning out the dishes he knew would be asked of him...

And then his eye fell on the Handler and he felt his heart skip a beat. It was an odd feeling, but one he'd had for a long time now... He wasn't some kitten, or unknowing of the ways of the world, but she stirred feelings in him he'd been trying to suppress. Not like the Admiral, who had simply not wanted to be tied down with a child when he could live free, but still leaving him without any kittens of his own beyond the chefs and palicos he helped train in his spare time.

The three main races of the world, the wyverians, the humans, and the lynians, weren't mutually exclusive, but anything moving between them was rare. This was normally due to cultural norms. After all, why would a wyverian take a human as a mate when they lived so much longer? And why would either risk a tryst with a felyne or a melynx and cause confusion in those dynamics? Lynians were the shortest lived, after all, and any attachments would only lead to broken hearts. And while successful mating was rare, hybrids were around between all the races, though few and far between.

This was the secret to the Meowscular Chef's longevity. While he was actually only about ten years the Grammeowster Chef's junior, his physique and stature were inherited from his father, a wyverian traveler that had formed quite the bond with his mother before disappearing back onto the road. It was a secret he knew, but didn't share, not wanting to be one of the research subjects of the commission or gazed upon as some freak beyond his size and strength. And while it had made him very aggressive as a kitten to stand out so, now that he'd retired from adventuring, he was itching to make a larger mark on the world than a calorie count and a well trained kitchen staff.

Still, it was improper for anyone from the research commission to flirt with those from other fleets, particularly the first flirting all the way down the line with the fifth, so while the beautiful brunette with the deep, sparkling brown eyes may have always caught his attention, he'd never do anything so risky as to let his beating heart take point. He had too many years under his belt to get lost in love like some silly kitten. He sighed, then opened his good eye, only to take a startled step back as he found the very eyes he'd been picturing mere inches from his face, looking into his eye closely. “What do you want?” He said in an annoyed huff, crossing his arms and returning to his usual detached demeanor.

“Well,” the Handler started, the smile on her face beaming as she leaned on the counter. “I saw that you were looking for some rare ingredients, and nobody was taking you up on that offer. I happen to know where to find them, though, and figured... Well, if I had a strong bodyguard like yourself, perhaps we could get the ingredients, you could give me some tips for cooking in the field, and you'd get the ingredients for that special dish of yours... it'd be a win-win!”

He tilted his head, considering it for a moment and closing his eye. In his mind he knew he shouldn't. There were too many problems, and hunters and researchers would be waiting for his meals while he was out. And the chefs, while fantastic, just didn't have the same flair or passion he did when it came to cooking. And he hadn't been keeping up his battle training, so even if he wanted to keep her safe, would he be able to? A broken sword and his claws could only take them so far, depending on what appeared. Besides, there was just too much temptation... As much as her offer intrigued him, Meowscular was going to have to say no.

But when his eyes opened again, seeing her eager face, her eyes wide with wonder and her hair shining in the afternoon light, his brow softened. He considered it for just a moment, then nodded. “Alright. We'll go gathering. Let me prepare the staff for it, and we'll head out tomorrow.”

Behind him, in a chorus, the four melynx chefs of his staff called out in unison. “No, meowster! Go today!” “Yeah, we have the kitchen under control.” “Mew want this dish to be perfect, right?” “Not like we're serving the Star anything, or fighting another Ishvalda.” All stacked up, they bowed their heads in unison, tails flicking behind them like some strange catsune. “Enjoy an afternoon off. On us, meowster!”

He gazed down at them, not lowering his head or changing his posture, his tail flicking behind him in annoyance. However, that was mostly to hide the anxiety welling in his chest. He had too much going on in his mind, didn't they see what they were doing? Or... was this their plan, letting him get soft, perhaps fall in love, just so he wouldn't treat them so badly. He growled, about to snap, when he heard the Handler's voice softly behind him.

“Please? I was hoping it would be alright, and I was looking forward to a little time with you... though I'll find someone else if you're needed here.” His tail flicked up straight, then his voice bellowed, his orders more barked than meowed, despite his Lynian nature.

“Chefs! Fall in!” They all hopped to attention, ears up and paws at their foreheads. He walked in front of them like a commander in front of an army, examining the ranks. “You four think you're able to handle it, hmm? Able to keep up meals for the gathering hub and the canteen? You're ready to serve meat, to roast veggies, and cook a perfect meal not just for one hunter, but this entire settlement, huh? Is that what you all think?”

In unison they meowed out an affirmative. “Yes sir, Meowster!”

He glared at each of them, prepping for any sign of weakness... then smiled, nodding. “Very well. But if I hear of anything going wrong before I get back, its your tails in the fires, understand? I won't accept anything but the best from mew.” He didn't even seem to notice the slip into his accent, nodding for them to go off. “Good luck, cats! Dismissed!” At that they moved as a group back into position, a spring in their steps and bright eyed and bushy tailed as they went to work on the next orders without their meowster's guidance for the first time in memory.

He then turned around, looking at the Handler, his ivy green eye running over her form from head to toe, his heart thudding in his chest behind the light fur, while the dark fur around his muzzle shifted as he scrunched up his mouth to the side, anxiety getting the better of him. It had been ages since he'd spent any time outside of the kitchen... but he straightened up and nodded. “Alright, I shall follow mew, miss Handler, and I'll meet mew near the wingdrake station shortly.” He saw her face light up, and he felt his own flushing, warmth running behind his cheeks, before he coughed. “I will have to prepare. Make sure people know where mew're going.” He started away, wondering if he still had any armor or a better weapon, since his sword was being used as a spatula at the moment, and didn't even notice the sound of the Handler and Moon talking frantically behind him.

About fifteen minutes later he was at the wingdrake station in his old armor. It felt heavy on his fur, and the metal and leather was old, but strong and well cared for even as it sat unused for so long. He even had a brand new sword in his paw, large for a felyne, though definitely one of the smaller blades by hunter standards. He'd thought about some of the crazier weapons when he was a kitten, but nowadays a simple blade was more than enough.

He looked around for the Handler, not seeing her anywhere. Slowly his angular tail started to twitch, the scar on his right eye itching. It only did that when something bad was happening, the eye underneath long lost, and he began to shift his weight from paw to paw, anxiety creeping in. Was this some kind of trick? Was the Handler actually trying to just get him to do something stupid? No, she was too nice for that. Something must have just come up. Yeah. That or she was blabbing to the Sapphire Star, or the Commander. How deep would the paperwork be if she was blabbing to the Commander?

He could feel himself getting cold feet, the weight of his armor making him antsy, the weight of his lineage making him anxious... He tried to focus himself, getting into his cross-armed stance and centering his thoughts, but they only roamed further and further. He was about to give up and head towards the kitchen to give his underlings a good yowling when he felt a gentle gloved hand on his shoulder, and he turned and looked up, her hair gleaming in the sunlight. “Hey, sorry to keep you waiting. Something came up, but Pard's got it under control on his own, so I'm still free to go with you, if you'll have me.”

He cleared his throat, purring quietly to himself and nodding. “Are mew sure mew aren't needed? The ingredients can wait. Sunkissed herbs and moonlit mushrooms are rare, but I could wait a season or two before they're required.” Using them together was a rare dish, but a labor of love. One he'd contemplated for a while, as a special serving. It could wait while his heart tried to settle.

However, he found himself shaken slightly by the Handler, a smile on her face. “No way! I want to know what you're making with those, and picking them fresh makes the best scents. Honestly, if this weren't my calling, I'd just be out there getting every ingredient I could for you to work your magic with.” She then winked before whistling for a wingdrake. “Though I wonder if prismatic paprika would work together with the flavors.”

He paused, forgetting that key part of wingdrake riding. Would he call his own? Or share hers? He wasn't as light as a palico, and she probably wasn't prepared for it. He let out a yowl for his own, which swirled overhead as well. “We shall see. Though if there's a flavor mew're agreeable to, I'd like to know. I can always adjust a dish to taste.” He grabbed onto the reign coming coming the wingdrake, and the Handler did the same for hers, the two setting off towards the Ancient Forest to find their prizes.

The Handler's heart soared along with the wingdrake, always feeling a rush when she saw the world from above. The forest was only just outside Astera, but the best camp for finding the needed ingredients was high off the forest floor, which she knew a lot better thanks to her time with the Star. Still, she found herself a little distracted as she ascended, her attention focused on the felyne behind her. Underneath the scraps of steel held onto his buff body with leather straps, the ringed fur pattern on his arms and the felyne paw print mark on his stomach rippling and whipping as the air rushed past him. Despite spending so much time in the canteen, he was fit and buff, taking care of himself, and it showed in the way his fur gleamed from his perfect diet. The Handler wished her hair looked as soft and caressable as his fur always did.

Though, the grooves of the muscles beneath were running through her head. What would it feel like to run a finger along that six-pack? Would he be soft from all his food, or hard as a rock? She bit her lip, looking up towards the trees to make sure she was still on track. She knew it was odd to think this way about a felyne, but more than once she'd simply lost herself in the way his fur reflected the fires of the ovens behind him, or the way the muscles rippled as he sliced a steak perfectly or applied salt juuuuust right. For all his power and strength, he was careful, with a finesse almost unimaginable and a warm friendliness beneath his gruff and rough exterior. She wanted to consider him more than a colleague, more of a friend, but it was so hard to get him to open up. This was going to be the perfect situation! And their shared love of food would be the perfect topic. And maybe watching his toned tail bending over to pick herbs would help her out with those dreams she didn't tell anyone about back at her abode. She ground her thighs together softly, remembering the dream she'd had just last night. Maybe she'd even get a good look at his tongue today, though 'look' wasn't what she wanted to do with it.

She shook the thought from her mind, causing her ponytail to flick in the wind behind her before she waved to the chef and started circling the wingdrake towards the treetop camp. As much as she wanted to land elsewhere to spend more time together, this was the best place to get the herbs, and then the mushrooms could be the longer hunt, right? Plus, today, it had seemed most of the larger monsters were elsewhere, leaving only a few jagrases and unruly gajalaka between them and their prizes. Still... might be nice to be falling into his strong arms rather than the spindly, toned limbs of the Star. If a girl had to be rescued, might as well enjoy it, right?

The Handler had her normal landing, smooth enough, right on location. It was a wonder to her how often the Sapphire Star ended up hot-dropped right in front of monsters, but luckily, he was more than equipped enough to deal with them. Maybe his wingdrake just had it out for him? Either way, she turned to watch the Chef's fur fluttering beautifully in the breeze, rippling in an almost hypnotic way as he came in for a landing. At the last second, however, the wingdrake he was riding under snapped at a bug, swinging him right into a branch that pulled the rope from his paw. The Handler ran forward, ready to catch him like she would any palico in danger, but instead she watched him flip through the air, vault off of his blade, and land behind her on his feet, one claw digging through the woven vines that made the floor and the other out like he was ready to fight. His normally stern face was in a snarl, the fighting spirit he'd not used for so long immediately coming to the surface.

And just as quickly it faded as he awkwardly stood up, then glared with his one good eye at the leaving drake. “Barely even good for a meal... Meowever, we have arrived. Ladies first.” He walked over to the blade, picking it up and sliding it into its sheath, before gesturing for her to lead the way. She had to shake herself out of her entranced watching of him, coughing as she got her mind back on the prize.

“Right! There's a patch of sunkissed herbs that are growing right up here. Just along this branch, and...” she didn't have to do more than lift a single branch out of the way to show the herbs in question shimmering with their golden glow in the sunlight. With the way the winds rustled the tree leaves, they seemed to almost be dancing, a fact that remained true as her companion ran up to the growing grasses and picked the perfect leaves and shoots from the patch. His angular tail smoothly swayed behind him, and she could hear a low purr as he gathered, his eye closing for a moment as he savored the smell of the fresh herbs.

“Purrfect... these will do nicely.” He secured the satchel of herbs to his side, then motioned for her once more. “You're doing amazingly already. Meow where should we go to find those mushrooms?”

She walked past him on the branch, leaning on the various vines that they'd grown through the area to act as railings and guards for other hunters that used the camps. At the end, she found the ring-shaped branch, a hole in the center marked as a good dropping point. It was one she'd seen the Sapphire Star take many times, falling from the highest point in the area to the lowest in just a few short minutes... but as she looked at the tangle and snarl of the branches and the chaotic pattern of birds and drakes and insects flying beneath her, she visibly started to seize up.

She took a deep breath, about to mention that the quickest route was down there, when a paw gently took her gloved hand, breaking her from her daze. His paw was massive, the same size as her hand, even though he was a little shorter than her... but not by much, which was incredibly impressive for a Lynian. His face was stern still, the scarred eye always giving him the look of a rough customer, but the gentle movement of his eyebrows and the edge of his mouth was enough to show his understanding. “It's alright, it's a beautiful day out, and I'm not needed back at the kitchen. We can take the scenic route.” He then smirked. “Even with a hike, I feel we'll probably make it back before dark.”

With the waning sun dappling her face through the leaves, and her ponytail flowing behind her in the breeze, she was a vision of beauty. Perhaps not the most beautiful, and definitely not one of those gussied up girls covered in makeup, but the Chef knew quite deeply about how complex and deep true beauty was. And the Handler, for her faults in some hunters' eyes, had it. He was purring deeply to himself as he saw her smile, then brush the hair from her face, before nodding and leading the long way down the trees. He watched her every movement, keeping an eye out for danger, or for her getting hurt, but mostly just quietly enjoying being near her as they climbed down the bark pathways both naturally made by the snarl of trees and laid out by diligent hunters and the natives of this land.

As he passed by a snoozing mosswine and made his way through one of the low holes that kept the camp safe from larger beasts, he found himself once more face to face with the Handler, who was looking at him expectantly. He flicked his ears, realizing he must have missed something, and cleared his throat. “Sorry, what was that? I didn't hear mew.”

She giggled, then turned, starting down the long, spiraling set of branches that would take them through the trees and lower towards the forest floor. “I asked what you need these ingredients for, especially fresh. They're an interesting blend, I could see them being used in all sorts of ways... Are they for the same meal? I think they could make a very interesting bread bowl for a soup. Or they could make for some nice seasoning for sweet potatoes. I always like having prismatic paprika on hand, if possible, but usually while we're waiting in the field, we have to keep things simple, unlike your amazing kitchen. Ooooh, can I get the recipe? Or are you experimenting on it?” She bounced a little in excitement, turning to look at him again with those beautiful eyes.

He had zoned out slightly while she was talking, keeping note of her words and her tastes, but wondering what he was going to say. He was testing a few new dishes for her and her upcoming birthday, and he didn't want to ruin that surprise. But she was such a foodie that keeping the secret from her almost seemed unfair. He frowned to himself, contemplating the pros and cons of spilling the secret, before some movement behind her caught his attention.

His ear flicked, hearing the sound of claws on bark, and in a flash his blade was out as he ran around her, placing himself between her and the forces in front of him. It wasn't much, just a few small jagrases prowling the area and looking for a meal. He snarled at them, and they stayed back, but continued to watch him with hungry eyes.

However, his test of wills was going unnoticed by the Handler, whose attention had been drawn to another small hole in the tree. She watched a fluffy grimalkyne from the Bugtrapper tribe wobbling his way out of the hole, then almost swaying as he wandered off towards their main campsite. She only really noticed she was in any danger when the Chef's paw landed on her back, bringing her attention to the beasts. “Are these in the way, miss Handler? Or should we find another path?”

She stepped back to a safe distance. “No, this is the way unless we want to jump. I'll get somewhere safe while you fend them off.”

The Chef smiled, then nodded, swinging his blade once to have it flicker in the light and get the attention of the one in front. “As mew wish.” He then leaped forward, yowling and snarling and making as much noise as he could, trying to scare them off, while a quick swipe of his blade cut at the hide of the one in front. Whether he'd have to fell them or scare them off, he wasn't going to let anything ruin his mushroom run.

The Handler used this time to investigate the hole the grimalkyne had come out of, wondering what had the fluffy Lynian so blissed out. Squeezing through the hole, she tumbled into a small chamber made of the tree, like a natural knot or growth had been hollowed out. Within it, planted in some soft moss, was a small patch of budding felvine shoots. Her eyes lit up, not knowing of any felvine naturally occurring in the New World, and was about to collect it for cultivation when she stopped herself. The grimalkyne had been pretty stoned coming out of here, and while the Meowscular Chef was from the Old World and had probably run into it before... did she really want to surprise him with something that would make him act so strange? It affected each Lynian differently, but whether he got drunk or high or otherwise off from his normal self, would it be worth the surprise to take him from his normal mental state?

She shook her head, being careful not to injure the plant, as the sap was what triggered the effect, and instead simply pulled out her notebook and documented the discovery. She'd mention it to him later, and maybe he'd enjoy it then, but she respected him too much to want to do something without his consent. Even if he'd enjoy it, a prank, especially one with a mind-altering substance, was still rude. As she finished up her notes, she heard the sounds of scuffling outside dying down and started making her way back out.

The Chef's armor had a new scratch on it, and he was breathing a little more heavily than usual, but otherwise he'd come out of the fight unscathed. However, as much as he liked to think he still had his palico skills, he had quickly realized just how out of practice he was when the claw had slid across his breastplate. He'd dispatched that jagras easily enough, and the others had run in fear at a “grimalkyne” that was attacking back, but he was making mental notes not to get into any more fights if he could avoid it.

However, the Handler didn't see any of his thoughts, only noticing the precision and swiftness with which his blade cut along the hide of the fallen jagras, separating the leather scales from the meat and, with a few practiced swipes, separating the meat from the bone. She admired how he wasn't letting anything go to waste, as well as his preparedness to have containers for the meat and the hide, leaving what he couldn't use for the scavengers of the forest, and all without getting a drop of blood on anything but his blade. As he wiped that off and sheathed it, he smiled at her, glad to see her unscathed. “Are we ready to continue?”

She nodded happily, her face blushing again as she gestured in the direction they would need to go. “It's not far. And... you're still quite a fighter! I'm impressed.”

He huffed to himself, then shook his head. “I've tackled larger. Jagrases are easy prey. But I'm no kitten anymore, and no longer a palico. I prefer my meat not jumping at me, how about mew?”

She laughed as she slid down the tree trunk to reach the next platform. “Same! It's delicious, but I prefer it with some salt on open coals, or seared to perfection on a hot plate, not lunging at me or spitting fire and poison.” They shared a chuckle as they followed the path, eventually coming to the spot with the moonlit mushrooms.

They grew in a clearing at the top of a fallen tree, the thick layer of dead leaves and other waste of the forest making both a perfect bed for mushrooms, as well as for some of the larger predators of the forest. Luckily, they were still out, bothering with some other problem or having turf wars with each other, leaving the two to peruse and pick mushrooms to their heart's content. They even swapped tips, with her identifying the stages of growth and which were in the safest materials to eat, while he showed her how to identify the texturing and ripeness of the mushroom itself, ensuring the meatiest interiors for the meals. It culminated in them both reaching for the perfect mushroom in unison, their hands meeting around its stem, and they looked into each other's eyes. A heat was in the air naturally in the forest, but it paled in comparison to the energy buzzing between the two, their faces flushed and growing slightly closer together with each passing moment. Her lips pursing, the low purr rumbling...

The rumble was drowned out by a powerful roar that shook the old, dead tree, causing both collectors to snap their attention to the source. Considering this was a prime resting place, it really was no wonder they'd have a visitor, but the Great Jagras before them seemed to have more than rest on his mind. His mane of spines rattled on his head, and while he was still svelte, not having found a meal for the many smaller jagrases he had in tow, the massive fanged wyvern had his eyes on the two mammals muscling in on his territory. Its footsteps shook the compost the mushrooms grew in, its form looming over the Meowscular Chef and the Handler as he reared back, ready to lunge.

While a few small fanged wyverns were one thing, a Great Jagras was a proper hunt, and neither of them were hunters. With discretion being the better part of valor, the felyne grabbed the human's hand, pulling her right against him as he stepped back, his face landing in her soft chest as they both managed to dodge out of the way of the monster lunging towards them. As much as he enjoyed his new lack of view, though, he knew he had to escape, and he never let go of the Handler's hand as he ran, his eye scanning for a safe place to go, heart pounding for fear rather than pleasure now that he was back on the hunt and remembering why he'd retired.

He ran out of the tree and across the branches, the two of them making impressive time as they leaped from branch to branch, but the Great Jagras was hot on their heels, not giving them any breathing room, even as it crashed through vines and snapped smaller branches, its entourage struggling to keep up and swarming behind it. While the felyne kept his eye on running, the Handler pointed out a small opening in a tree up ahead. “There! That's too small for it! Through the bark there!”

The Chef nodded, keeping his eye on the prize as he made one more leap, then let go of her hand for the first time as he slid through the hole, wanting to clear it and keep it open for her to do the same. Unfortunately, he didn't know about the other side, and the slick, mossy branch beyond the knothole took him careening further than he wanted, though he landed on his feet in a soft netting of vines below. He called up, watching the Handler crawling face first, and pause when she slipped, before a crash and a shaking of the whole tree as the Great Jagras impacted caused her to slip into the hole and scream out as she was falling.

He was right beneath her, arms out, and he quite easily caught her, his strong, but soft, warm, embracing arms wrapping around her protectively, their eyes meeting for just a moment as he saved her from the fall. It was almost successful, too, but her added momentum and the weight of two people focused on his two small paws snapped the vines under them, causing them both to tumble down further through the hollow tree. Above, the Great Jagras peeked down and, seeing them gone, pulled his head free to find some easier meals.

A vine canopy covered the area above them, glowing scoutflies and vigorwasps lazily fluttering through the hollow, brought to alertness by the sudden intrusion into their home, but otherwise happy to share the space. One landed, for a moment, on the tuft of brown hair laying on the ground, but at the movement it flew away, the glow following with it. The Handler groaned softly, the landing hard, but not too bad, as she lifted herself up slightly. One of her gloves had come off in the fall, and as she put a hand down to brace herself, she felt warm fur under her fingers. She looked down, seeing the Meowscular Chef underneath her, eye closed, but breathing slowly, while she was on top of one of the armored plates. She gasped at that, moving slightly backwards, only to feel something against the curve of her rear through the clothes.

She blushed, her mind running, but... no, it surely couldn't be that. She looked at the Chef, whose cheeks did seem a little pink... then next to his head, seeing what they'd collapsed in. It was an incredibly soft bed, but the bulk of the tree seemed to be filled with felvine, the fragrant sap from which was swirling around the pair of collectors. She gasped, then started to move away, only to feel his claws on her hips, holding her tightly still, protecting her from the fall. “Chef, are you okay?” she said, gently shaking his shoulder to make sure he was alright.

He purred low, though it turned into a groan as he opened his eye, the slow breaths coming deeper. His iris was a little wide, the smell of the vine hitting him in a deep an instinctual place. His claws gripped slightly at the Handler's clothes, moving up from her hips to her back, keeping her close, while his sash, the flag of the First Fleet, rose awkwardly above his legs. He looked into her eyes, then smiled. “Mew're okay. Purrfect.” He had a number of conflicting emotions and thoughts all vying for the top spot, but above all, he was happy she was safe.

She smiled as well, nodding and blushing. “Yeah... thanks to you. You protected me and kept me safe. And even adventuring after a full day in the kitchen... You know you're amazing, right? Just... doing so much for everyone. I really want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” Her eyes looked at his, his breath washing over her face slightly, their bodies so very close. Her heart was pounding, though whether from the chase or the fall or something else, she wasn't sure.

Though, to be fair, neither was he. He looked into her eyes, the gorgeous orbs reflecting the green glow of the vigorwasps and the scoutflies, the wet vines above looking like stars twinkling as the insects moved and their lights reflected. His nose was full of scents, felvine and and must and damp, but... mostly it was full of hers, a gentle, feminine smell he had never noticed. It was sweet, not feral like so many Lynians, and it almost called to him. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, his brain screamed at him. The difference in fleets! The difference in age! The difference in species! But he only cared about the difference in his heart.

His paw moved up behind her head, pulling her into a kiss as she pressed against his chest. She let out a surprised sound, her eyes going wide, while his closed, prepared for whatever would come from this moment of weakness. Her own mind raced. Did she feel this way for real about a felyne? Would she give in to this feral feeling, from this male out of his mind from felvine? Would it be wrong? What would the others think? What would the Star think? Did she care? She could taste the meat on his lips, the scent of cat filling her nose, the press of his lips foreign, and yet...

Just as she was about to decide, he let go of her head, pushing her away and scrambling from under her. She felt that hard point slide under her clothes, gliding against them, before the tent in his apron was on display beneath his armor. He shook his head. “N-no! This isn't okay! Mew're so much younger than me, and so beautiful. I can't keep mew from someone who'll love mew, from a human who cares. Meow is not the time to give in, no matter how my heart beats whenever mew're in the canteen...” He grabbed his nose with his paw, scrunching his eye shut tight as if he could stop the intoxicating felvine from getting to him if he couldn't see it, the sap on his paws not factoring into the thought at all. “I gotta keep calm. Cmewler heads will prevail.”

Seeing the large, strong felyne struggling with himself hurt the Handler. After the levity of before, and the moments, and all he'd given her, this was painful. The Meowscular Chef was a staple of Astera, a stern face and a kind heart, one who had brightened up her day even in the darkest times, and one who made her smile with every culinary creation friendly feast he provided. To see him fighting with himself, with something he so wanted... what they both so wanted...

He felt the hand caressing his cheek, brushing past his whiskers, and he leaned into it naturally, opening his eye and looking at her. He expected anger, or fear, or hatred, maybe revulsion... not the soft smile she wore, or the understanding deep in her eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, to apologize for this moment of weakness, but was met instead with her lips on his, her kiss soft, but insistent. Slowly she caressed down his arms, which propped him up, while his heart felt like it stopped, the impossible scenario currently happening clearly because he'd died and gone to heaven. He felt her hand slide down his side, then over his apron, then under it to the fur beneath, gliding right up his thigh.

He shuddered, his paw snapping to the spot, holding her hand as it tickled his short hairs, and she broke the kiss, looking at him with slight confusion. “M-mew don't have to! I'm okay! Mew're fine if mew just want to-”

She placed a finger on his lips, shushing him gently. “I want to do this. Just relax and let me know if you want me to stop.” She pulled the finger away, waiting for his signal, and his paw slid away from her hand, giving it room to go further. She smiled, sliding up his thigh, brushing between his legs, feeling for his warmth hidden under the apron.

He jumped and practically hissed at the feeling, his cock throbbing as her fingers brushed over the warm, textured length hidden under his armor and his clothes. The small, rubbery spines along it flared for a second at her touch, and all the thoughts and feelings he'd been suppressing all day appeared in the form of a thick dollop of pre that immediately started to bleed through the First Fleet's flag he used as his apron. He looked away, his ears going flat at the sad display as he so obviously lusted for this Fifth Fleet maiden, shame trying to batter through the barrier the felvine put on his thoughts.

She didn't let it, though, giggling at his reaction and simply sliding her hand up, then down his length, feeling the girth of it, the warmth, the flexing strength in every throb. It was on the smaller side, not that she had a huge amount of experience there, but then, for a felyne, he was probably massive. And the texture, she thought as she ground her legs together and whined softly at her growing wetness, would probably do more than enough to make up for any deficiencies in length. She pumped it a few times, from the base just above his fuzzy sheath to the tapered tip of the spined spear, each time loving to see him purr and squirm and mewl in pleasure, his paws holding his apron down to hide his eagerness.

She shook her head at him, slowly changing her position so she was between his legs. “Now now, my Meowscular bodyguard, don't you hide anything from me. I need to see this first-hand.” She flipped up his apron, locking eyes with the rod she'd been stroking, her eyes going wide at the sight and how it throbbed just for her. When he went to cover it again, her hand cupped over the sensitive tip, catching the pre that leaked there and making him shudder, before she slid the sticky substance down the whole length, coating her hand in it.

He was trying to fight it, the sensation building up between his legs, but between the vine's sap, the Handler, and the sensations he was feeling so intimately and so fully, he couldn't, letting out a roar that turned into an embarrassed mewl as his spines flared, his cock throbbing hard and firing off in her hand, thick ropes of his cum flinging through the air and landing among the vines surrounding the pair. His face burned, his eye looking away as his body betrayed him to his lust, spurt after spurt of cum spraying towards the Handler, coating her hand and leaving streaks across the ground.

He was mustering up an apology for all of this, his head refusing to clear, nor did his lust lower, the need of the pent-up chef only dulled by this release, but it was giving him a window past the scent filling his lungs to let his inner shame try to fight forward. He opened his mouth to say something when he heard the Handler moan, and his eye fell on her licking at his cum, a hungry and seductive look on her face. “Well now, I never knew you had such a sweet treat hiding away. Looks like your cream was overflowing... Let me release a little more pressure and get a proper taste, hmm?”

He raised an eyebrow, his eye going wide as he tried to formulate a response, but it was lost when her head disappeared under the apron. His claws sprang out, digging into the patch of felvine while he quaked with pleasure, more and more of the herb's scent filling his nose and his mind as pleasure rushed up his body. Her tongue was a pillow, his cock resting perfectly on it while pre leaked and dripped, her mouth feeling like heaven as she wrapped it around his length, ensuring every bit of his flavor had one place to go. She might not be an expert, but her tongue worked like a Pukei-Pukei, swirling around his cock and practically pumping it on its own, ensuring every bit of cream clinging to his length or hiding between the spines was brought to her waiting taste buds and swallowing throat.

However, with her head behind the apron, he growled, starting to fight with the leather straps holding on his armor. For a moment he thought about bringing his claws to it, though if a monster hadn't cut them by now, he wasn't going to be able to. But he still had the presence of mind to respect it, removing straps and buckles and trying to slide out of the breastplate, all while his hips bucked and twitched like they had a mind of their own, the Handler's skill simply too much, and while his sensitive body was having a refractory period, it knew it had to be ready for a second run as soon as possible. This was no wet dream, the only relief it normally got... this was the actual go time.

She didn't mind at all, her nose filled with the feral scent of his crotch, the wondrous male musk making the sweet and salty mix on her tongue flare with flavor. She didn't have the experience to know if it was true about diet changing the way things tasted, but he must be treating himself well, because this was rapidly becoming her favorite cream, her tongue sliding right to the tip to catch any pearls of deliciousness that might be leaking from there. She didn't mind the thrusts, nor his earlier ejaculation, taking them as signs of a job well done. It made her heart race knowing she had this effect on him, but more importantly, it made her feel that this was, in fact, the right thing to do for her wonderful companion. His cock filled her mouth perfectly, letting her feel the give of the spines and that they wouldn't hurt inside her. Only the deepest thrusts tried to claim her throat, brought on by his distraction as he flung his armor aside. Finally he took off the apron, leaving his bare fur and ripped muscles in sight, as well as his panting, lust-fueled face, his iris wide and burning with passion.

Now that he had the sight of the Handler between his legs, her hair matted slightly from her sweat, every inch of his cock disappearing into her mouth, only to slowly reappear glistening in the sparkling lights from her saliva... it was too much. He growled, retracting his claws, before he ran a paw through her hair, looking deep into her eye and the caring she had there, obvious even through the haze and lust. He gripped her hair, the tips of his claws almost springing out, but he held back the feral pull, a low purr rumbling through his body. “Mew are ~hah~ doing so well, Kitten,” he purred, then gripped harder, his muscles trembling and ready, but holding on for her signal. “I need morrrrre. Can mew purrsevere if I get a little rough?”

She tried to pull back, but was held there, his muscles easily strong enough to do so. He was asking, but he was also too far gone to be waiting for her to think on it or move. He wanted the answer now. She purred around his cock, then nodded, licking along the tip, then stopping her own movement, trying to brace herself for what he'd give her. It turned out, the answer was the ride of a lifetime. She moved with his body as he stood up, her hands reaching around to grab his sculpted ass and massage the base of his tail and the bulge of his sheath, but they didn't have long to explore. Once he was in position, he pulled his hips back, then thrust forward, his paws fulling her head down onto his cock in the same motion, getting deeper than he had before. She relaxed her best, taking it like one of the specialty drinks he offered in the canteen, letting his thick and rubbery cock glide into her throat before pulling back and leaving the burning, wondrous aftertaste of his lust across her tongue. She spread her legs slightly, bracing for the impacts, then grabbed onto his ass like she was going to pull herself onto his cock, ready for everything he had to offer.

Her submission and assuming the position turned off any remaining inhibitors he might have had. He growled like a fanged wyvern, his whole body seeming to ripple with power as he began to take a steady, deep pace on her throat. He looked down at her, seeing her eyes flicking between his abs, the cock disappearing into her mouth, and then up to his face before rolling back with lust, accompanied by a moan that vibrated along his shaft, teasing the barbs on it against each other. He debated grabbing her ears like handles, but kept his grip on her hair, wanting to keep his claws from injuring her if he went to far. He wrapped her ponytail around his paw, then pulled it straight, using it like reins to lead her onto his cock fully, grinding her nose against his stomach and savoring the carnal heaven he was losing himself in.

She had a few tears in her eyes from the sharp tugs and holding her breath, but honestly it was nothing compared to the flood that was in her basement, her knees shaking on the ground as he held her against him. Her mouth, nose, and lungs were filled with his lusty scent, while the only sight she had were his powerful muscles and the dominant, lusty, loving look in his eye as he grit his teeth and prepped. She shuddered, holding onto his tail like a handle, her other hand moving to his thigh to hold on better as he thrust back, giving her room to breathe, before slamming in fully, going from the slow, deep thrusts to powerful fast ones, claiming her face fully as his.

He purred and growled as he continued to hold her head tight, pressing her into his crotch while he slammed forward, hearing the wet slaps and cut off moans of their bodies connecting, his cock cutting off the sounds and his balls bouncing forward enough to tap her chin from time to time. He was past the point of holding back, claiming her mouth like it was the last hole he'd ever lay, his tail twitching eagerly and his balls starting to ride up as he wanted to give her a real taste of his cream. He yowled, his claws flicking out and pressing against her skin before he slid them away, growling his one warning. “I'm gonna cum, Kitten. Do mew want your cream?” He let up the pressure for just a second, letting her pull free if she wanted to.

She felt the pause in his thrust, barely registering the words, before she slammed herself around his cock, swallowing and suckling as best she could as she held herself against him. Her tongue slid along the bottom of his length, feeling the thick cum vein open up, his barbs flaring out and teasing the top of her throat, filling her mouth to the brim before the first rope shot down her throat, musky and warm and thick. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she swallowed every string shot into her mouth, the feral flavor almost overwhelming. Even after his earlier emptying, it soon became apparent she couldn't quite keep up, and at the last moment she had to pull back, panting and lungs burning while his cock shot one last pulse of cum across her lips and dribbling down her chin.

She watched the rod she'd just sucked off drooling in front of her, the spines pulsing with his heartbeat, before her hand went to her chin, collecting the cream there and bringing it up for her to lick it off. She then looked up into his eye, seeing it locked on her, wonder and lust and pure bliss all conflicting in his slightly addled state. She slowly moved her other hand between her legs, pressing slightly against her pants and feeling what she knew was true, the wet fabric pressing against her pussy... she wasn't done. Hopefully he wasn't either.

The Chef was having a strange mix of pride and worry wash over him, though at least it was fighting off the shame. Pride because of the panting, moaning, gasping woman before him and the huge amount of cum she'd swallowed until she couldn't anymore. He still had it, and he was proving that in as many ways as possible. But he was worried for a few reasons: had he gone too far? He'd done all this without pleasing her yet... would she think worse of him? How could he let himself get this caught up in it? And why didn't he want to stop in the slightest? He always hated felvine's effects on him. As he was only half-felyne, he didn't get to the state of rolling on the floor giggling or stumbling drunk without a drop of alcohol, but it still had an effect. It turned off all his inhibitors, from how he acted to what he wanted, and he felt all the emotions and sensations in full force. He was more than happy to be feeling it now, and to see the result, but he still worried how he'd react when he had full control of himself again.

However, any fears that he'd hurt or scared off the Handler were proven unfounded as she slowly lay back, removing layer after layer of clothing before him and setting them out like a blanket behind her: a soft barrier between the vines and her delicate skin. She was hearty, and no slouch when it came to adventuring and exploring herself, but her body lacked much of the tone and definition of the hunters, carrying just a little weight from the extra food she ate. She had curves in all the right places, her hips full and round, her chest a perfect handful, or, in this case, pawful, and she even let down her hair, letting it splay behind her head like a mane or the sun's corona.

Without hesitation she spread her legs, showing the glistening treasure there. It was cared for, but not hairless... the kind of maintenance and self-care that would go into not expecting anyone to see it. Nothing about her was artificial, and that natural beauty resounded in her companion's heart, deep pangs of love radiating further with each naturally beautiful motion she took. He could see, and smell, the practical puddle in her panties where they were off to the side, and while she found his dropped jaw and throbbing cock cute, it was far more arousing when he purred in pleasure while she gestured his way. “Come, my handsome bodyguard. This Kitten is purring, but she won't be happy until she's had her fill of meat as well as cream.”

He moved with purpose, kneeling between her legs, before he grinned, bending down and licking at the purring kitten's pussy. The Handler jumped, moaning at first, though she quickly grabbed his ears, pulling him away, his rough tongue having the wrong effect on her sensitive lower lips. “Hey, hey! I'm ready, and your tongue? Not the best for teasing, I won't lie. Maybe my hair? But... Let's skip the foreplay on this one, hmm?”

The Meowscular Chef blushed, trying to get his head back in the game after that. Other felynes loved a good tongue bath, head to toe, but then again, they could reach themselves with the rough tongue... it made sense that a human might be sensitive to it. Instead he slid his fingers up her sides, placing his cock against her warm honeypot and grinding his textured cock against her clit, the rubbery nubs doing wonders for the stimulation. She purred and groaned, gripping at the vines behind her, before her legs went up and wrapped around his waist, pulling him suddenly against her so he fell, his face between her soft breasts while he looked up at her. “I'm serious, lover boy. Get that thing in me or I'm going to have to pin you down and ride you like a tailraider.”

As hot as that was, the Chef knew better than anyone how to follow instructions and recipes, even if he did like to stir the pot from time to time. Here, however, there was a straightforward recipe for a banana split, and the only question was whether it ended in a whipped topping or a cream injection. He growled lustily, motorboating his head against her soft, pillowy breasts, while his hips dragged back, placing the tip of his cock against her entrance. They both held their breath, the anticipation building, before he extended his claws into the vine bed, his whole body moving in one powerful, deep thrust that connected them hip to hip.

The Handler screamed out in pleasure, the sudden filling of her sensitive snatch mind blowing, verging on the edge of painful, but crashing firmly into waves of pleasure that rocked through her system like a mini orgasm. Her walls clamped around him so hard he could feel the heartbeat he heard in his ear, her pussy form fitting the rod of the pussycat mounting her. It wasn't the deepest a toy had ever gotten, nor so girthy it was stretching her to her limit, but it fit perfectly snugly, the barbs adding texture, teasing, and pulling at her sensitive flesh in ways she never knew she needed.

She realized he wasn't moving and looked down, panting, at him as he watched her face in its contortions. “Are mew alright, Kitten? Was I too furrocious?” He purred the question softly, obviously worried, even as his claws flexed, wanting to get back to the action.

In response, she smiled, kissing him on his nose before wrapping her hands around his head, hugging him right into her chest. “F-fuck, that was amazing, Meowster.” She giggled to herself for saying the word, but what was a little teasing between lovers? “You feel so good... I don't know if I'll be able to go back. But I'm ready when you a-AHN~!” He didn't hesitate, his tail wrapping around her leg while he pulled back, then pushed in as deep as he could go, rutting right into the needy kitten beneath him without wanting to miss a beat.

His mind was racing as quickly as his heart. Would this be risky? Should they have been using protection? Surely they're moving too quickly. What if this was a fling? Could his heart handle if he outlived her? Questions flooded his thoughts, but were stripped away one by one as her moans vibrated through his core, her body almost seeming made for him as it milked and pulled at his length, rippling with pleasure every time he moved even an inch in her and vice tight. There was no hesitation in her enjoyment, her fingers digging into his fur and clawing at the muscles hidden by it, the sounds of her breathing and her pleasured gasps making music sweeter than any hunting horn could play.

He looked up at her face, her eyes full of love, the pleasure flushed red on her cheeks, and her grip on him never softened for a moment. He could see more there than a fling... if it would last, he didn't know, but at this point, he pushed any worries from his mind, letting the felvine fuel his lust and ensure he did a wonderful job with his lover. He growled, then nuzzled against her right breast before taking her nipple into his mouth, suckling on it gently and making her arch her back in pleasure. This let his arms get under her, his strength lifting her hips while he raised his, getting himself in the perfect position to plow her properly. She could feel his claws, like tiny pinpricks, threatening to push free, but the one thing he held back on as he rolled his hips inside her, hitting every sweet spot she had.

Her arms fell from his neck, moving to brace her and giving him a little more leverage, while he put a hand on her shoulder, pinning her down and rutting into her like crazy. The feral power behind his thrusts, the toned muscles all working in unison to connect the two of them, all transferred into a powerful love that she felt radiating through her. She knew his passion for cooking, and feeling it first-hand, she was writhing as her muscles gripped, her whole body rocking in another rush of orgasmic proportions. She gripped at her discarded clothing, hearing the wet slaps of his hips hitting her sopping pussy and feeling the matted fur around his cock tickling her thighs and clit.

And yet his face was silent and focused, taking her with the same dedication he put into making a perfect meal. When she moaned deeper, he'd change his thrusting to keep hitting that spot, if she purred softly, he'd slow down, changing to deep thrusts that revved her engine beyond compare. When she screamed out for her Meowster, his claws would sink around her shoulder, his growl only matching the throbbing cock in the way it rumbled deep in her core. He was as a master painter, and she was his canvas, where pleasure was the paint of his true masterpiece.

Eventually, quietly, he purred out a warning. “Getting close. Where does Kitten want her cream?” Try as he might, his hips had been faltering, his thrusts getting a little sloppy as his orgasm built, his balls tightening in his sheath and warm drips of precum flinging deep into the Handler, splashing against her deepest chamber. The chance of anything happening was low, but he could keep himself in line enough to at least grant her this courtesy.

Her answer was clear, her legs wrapping around his hips and pulling him tight, locking him against her as deep as he could go, while she gasped and moaned, barely holding on while looking him right in the eye. “Make me yours, Meowster. Fill me to the brim.”

His body followed the command immediately, his cock pulsing and a roar echoing through the tree loud enough to scare all the vigorwasps and scoutflies to action, creating a swirling storm of beautiful sparkling lights around them. His barbs fully extended, pressing against all her sweet spots at once, and she moaned out as her pussy squirted, honey dripping down his thighs. She could feel his cock expanding, then the cum rushing into her deepest chamber, the warmth she'd tasted firing deep inside her, pulse after pulse, rope after rope, until she felt a wonderful glow deep inside her. The warmth almost traveled up her spine, the wave of pleasure melting her body one vertebrae at a time, until she moaned out in pure lust, then collapsed onto her clothes panting and gasping.

The strength of the orgasm rushed through him as well, his crooked tail going stock straight, his claws flexing out, every part of his body tensing and coiling to push out every drop of cum he could into his lover, before the wave of pleasure washed over him, the large felyne collapsing onto his lover, his cock still throbbing and drooling, the barbs trying to hold all the cum in, while he nuzzled against her breast and listened to her heartbeat. The warmth of her skin on his fur made him purr softly, and despite everything, the two fell asleep entangled, two made one and seed exploring to find a place to take root.

When they awoke it was properly dark, and it took a while for them to untangle themselves from each other and put on their armor and clothes. Matted fur and messy hair was patted down, a few tender kisses were shared, and the Handler decided, as the leaking, lukewarm drip from her body joined the cooled arousal clinging to her panties, that it was going to be easier to simply get a new pair than wash this out. It took quite a bit of work with the clutch claw and his claws to get them out, but the Jagras had long left, and one whistle got them back on their wingdrakes and returning to town. A few questions were had for the pair, but there was such a large distraction from the Sapphire Star's return with a live Orochi Kirin in tow that the Handler and the Meowscular Chef could clean up and return to their regular duties without having to answer more than losing track of time, even as they made most of their motions and went to the showers hand in paw.

The next month or so were a lot slower, but a lot more intimate. While there had been no fallout from the act, it went from a whispered secret crush to a very poorly guarded secret that the Handler and the Meowscular Chef were dating to some extent. While they never had proper dates or said anything to the higher ups, it was very obvious when they'd both disappear at the same time, her with a picnic blanket and him with some food. Or how she'd always sit in the canteen so she could see him and they'd wave back and forth. Or how often, between meals, he'd be found in the back behind the ovens “talking” to her. The Commander and the Admiral had both heard about it, as had the Star, but nobody pushed them to be out in the open except the Handler, who was tired of hiding her time with her hunky furball.

However, they never went as far again as they had in the felvine patch. Whether it was the Chef returning to his normal ways or just a function of the eyes on them and the short times they gave themselves to be alone, they spent a lot of time kissing, holding hands, and sending loving gifts and messages, but never went much further.

At least, not until her birthday. That was the day, finally, when he mustered up the courage to come clean to the Commander, asking for time off to spend some time making a special meal for his significant other. The Commander just laughed, saying it was odd to see him acting so cute, and commenting that it better not slow down his kitchen, but otherwise he was given the green light. He kept the comments, and the wounds to his pride, to himself as he happily scurried off to his own private kitchen, ready to take the sunkissed herbs and moonlit mushrooms and make a meal worthy of celebrating his Kitten entering the world and making his life so much happier.

The Handler had been by the containment pens, teasing Moon and the Star for their companions with a million insufferable bat and horse puns respectively. She was glad Moon had a kNight in fluffy armor, and Star was in a Stable relationship of his own, but she was a little grumpy lately. Star just smirked at her. “You'd be Kittin' yourself if you think you're not Purrfect for each other. Just give him time and you'll see how he's Felyne for you.” She wanted to hit him for that, but she had to concede defeat to the better pun master before making her way home, with only one quick swing by the bathrooms to get rid of the butterflies in her stomach.

One hand on her belly, she entered her room and turned on the lights, only to gasp in astonishment at the spread laid out before her. Cakes and pastries, soups and salads, and a towering platter of meat and mushrooms adorned the central table of her room, while the Meowscular Chef pounced on her at the door and gave her a huge kiss, much more obviously than he ever had as he didn't even shut the door or pull her to the side first. “Happy Birthday, Kitten! I got permission, and the Commander's blessing, and made this meal for mew, purrlease tell me it's purrfect! Though I might've gone overboard on the amount.”

She looked at him, then at it, with wide eyes, before she hugged him close and kissed him deeply, her heart fluttering at everything he said. “It's wonderful! And I told you he'd be okay with us being together.” She then nuzzled into the top of his head, kissing his forehead softly. “And you're really a true Meowster... In more ways than one~. Though I may need to be reminded of the second one later.” His tail flicked behind him, his face flushing with heat, but she kicked the door closed and ran to the table. “But first, a feast! I'm all in, my handsome hairball!”

The two of them worked on the huge piles of food, and while they worked hard at it, they could only put away so much before the rest would have to wait for a snack for later. However, the Chef noticed the Handler had quite the appetite, packing away more than she normally did of the sweets and meats and... well, everything. She giggled when he asked about it, kissing him on the nose. “I might have a reason, but I'll tell you later. For now... I have a dessert I need, Meowster, and this one just isn't cutting it.” She undid her blouse, then leaned back, grabbing a bit of chocolate from the dipping fountain and drizzling it across her chest and drooling it over her nipples. “Oops,” she said playfully, leaning back in her chair. “If only I had some way to clean this off.”

He looked at her chest, his eye going wide, before he blushed, leaning against the table. “A-are you sure? I mean, after everything a month ago... I wouldn't want t-”

He was pulled from the table and into a kiss, a deep, passionate one, while she ran her hand down his muscular side before swinging it around to his crotch and gently squeezing. At his purr, she broke the kiss, looking into his eye with pure lust in hers. “You need to learn to take a hint. Now, tease me and fuck me senseless, or go slow and careful, just... It's my birthday, and the present I want is to be with my lovely, sexy felyne love. Is that too much to ask?”

He listened to her words, letting them run through his mind slowly, analyzing each of them, making sure he didn't miss something... and then he let his heart practically explode, happiness pouring forth as he purred and nuzzled against her cheek. A moment later, though, he touched the tip of his nose to hers. “I love mew too, Kitten.”

She actually blushed at that, sitting back and looking a little awkward, but smiling warmly. She hadn't been expecting that, and that hadn't been exactly what she'd meant, but... it was so incredibly nice to hear, and it made her sway girlishly, even with the chocolate cooling on her breast. Seeing that, her companion moved forward, his rough tongue moving slowly over her body, very carefully picking up the chocolate, but also using it to dull the texture of his tongue, letting it glide gingerly over her nipple and make her gasp and moan. He leaned her against the table, carefully taking the chocolate and gliding it over her skin, letting his tongue sensually massage her breasts, her areola, then flick over the nipple, getting them to full attention while his other hand undid her blouse.

Button by button he moved down, following shortly behind to her stomach with the chocolate trail, the smooth and gentle motions of his tongue both cleaning her and driving her wild. He wasn't lost in the lust like he'd been out in the felvine... No, he was gentle and loving, ensuring her pleasure and keeping back the parts of his bestial nature that could hurt. It showed a lot of respect and care for his partner, more than the Handler had been expecting, and yet another side to the wonderful man she'd fallen in love with.

As he undid her shorts and slid them down, she worried. As aroused as she was with all of this, she remembered the sandpaper-like texture on her clit out there, and she didn't want a repeat. But he began slowly, his fingers sliding along her clit, then her lower lips, probing them curiously. The bulbous tips of his paws tickled, the pads delicate despite his rough work, but strong. The tips of his claws he kept away from her skin with every motion, though the fur tickled and made her squirm and spread her legs for him.

Getting a full, close look at her delicate, dripping flower, he basked in her scent for a moment, then moved in for the kill. She closed her eyes, bracing herself, but instead of the rough tongue she'd remembered, she felt a pleasant roll along her clit, then gasped as the tips of his fingers slipped inside her pussy, the hair teasing along her passage and tickling her sensitive opening in the most wonderful ways. She looked down to see him very focused, no more than a drip of chocolate here or there, but enough to coat his tongue so it would glide instead of rubbing, at least until she was leaking enough lubricant to let him use that instead.

Her hand went down to his head, playing with his ears, and she watched him purr and lean into it, his tail twitching happily behind him while he lapped at her pussy like a bowl of milk. His paws were gentle, years of tenderizing meat and placing garnishes just right at the canteen giving them both the strength and the dexterity for little motions, making her relax and groan as he made her feel amazing. Every bit of tension was removed from her folds, only for the muscles to wind back up, pleasure sparking through her body with each roll of his tongue into her passage and over her clit. She massaged her thumbs in his big ears, holding them tight, which made him purr and lean into it, increasing his effort, as though giving her lower lips a pep talk, pussy to pussycat.

She shuddered, then let out a low moan, a sudden wave of pleasure causing her to squirt a small stream of arousal, which clung across the scar over his eye. He popped back, a little surprise, while she saw him panting, his apron tented once more, though whether from his work on her or her work on his ears was hard to say. She whined slightly as he pulled back, but got up, caressing her hand over his cheek and teasing his whiskers before she made her way to the bed. “That was wonderful, my love. A great appetizer, but I'd like to try the main course.”

His paw went to the arousal glistening on his face, wiping it softly, then licking it off his paw, before he growled and gave her a devious grin. “Just make yourself comfy, Kitten. The Meowster will make mew a meal mew'll never fur-get.” She'd never found the way palicos talked to be particularly sexy or seductive, and yet, somehow even those puns were making her heart flutter and her loins stir. She climbed onto her bed on her hands and knees, presenting him with her plump and juicy pussy ripe for the picking.

He dropped his clothes near hers, his body once more naked before her. In this setting there was an air of purpose to his movements. Pride and strength both feral, yet refined, unlike the wild and nervous Lynian she'd laid with out in the Ancient Forest. He climbed up behind her on the bed, running slow, sensual touches along her thighs and over her ass, before he gripped her hips and slid his cock along her needy pussy. Just feeling those ridges and barbs made her shudder in pleasure, spreading her legs to make sure he'd have a perfect entrance to do as he pleased.

He hesitated but once as she offered herself, tilting his head a little. “Do mew want me to get some purr-tection? I wouldn't want mew risking anything mew don't want to.”

She grinned, then shook her head, giggling softly. “I want to feel all of you in me, Meowster. No barriers, just be yourself, and leave a cream pie I'll never forget. I've been dreaming about it ever since that day.”

He smirked, then shook his head. “Ah, Kitten, so young and smitten. Mew'll need a Meowster to whip mew into shape~.” He slapped her ass, then as she yiped, he slid his cock right into position and sank it deep into her in one fell swoop. She cried out in pleasure, her toes curling and her eyes practically rolling into her head, before she looked at him and wiggled her ass, rolling his cock around her pussy with the motion, feeling those barbs teasing and digging into those hard to reach pleasure points.

“Oooh, Meowster, show me what you got~.” He watched her position herself again, but he was lost to the pleasure at the moment, her walls gripping his cock so perfectly. Her honey slid along his cock, slicking it, much like the chocolate had done for his tongue, making it one smooth rod pumping into her passage. But the warmth, the tightness, the gripping heartbeat... He'd been dreaming about this just as much as her, and as their bond grew, he'd been hoping to return to this point. If only to make up for his treatment of her last time.

She'd been prepared for a powerful assault on her hindquarters, gripping the sheets and bracing herself. However, while her grip tightened and her arms wobbled, dropping her face-first into the blankets, it wasn't due to the ferocity of his thrusting. No, she was only gently rocked by his motions, but the way they ground slowly across her clit, like a baker carefully rolling out the dough, before pressing back in at a new angle and sparking her imagination with the slap of their hips connecting, sent her reeling. It was a delicate dance, a union borne of passion, but focused and refined. When he had full control of himself, he was a gentle lover, the motions small and soft, but filling her in all the right ways... She found her body reacting, squirting as it had suddenly when he was licking, another miniature orgasm rushing through her folds and shaking her to the core.

As much as he loved her moans and the rippling walls around his cock, the Chef was focused, his eye closed, letting his body and his instinct move him. He had learned, in his years, many tricks. How to read the tell of a monster, how to cook a steak to perfection, how to sharpen a blade so it'll cut bone without taking off his own paw. This was just an extension of those lessons: how to please his love and make her melt in his paws. The feral side of him had claimed her, marked her as his and broken past the wall that had made this seem impossible, but now the other side was taking control, practically trying to map out her pussy, listen to her moans, feel how she reacted, and make a mental map of how to send her squealing every time they got together. Sometimes those rough jaunts would be wonderful, he knew, but right now, as he caressed the firm, yielding flesh of her ass and plumbed her depths, he wanted to savor every inch of their connection.

Her whole body tightened up as his length pulled and nudged at her walls. From her womb to her clit, then rushing up her spine, she could feel the focused energy of his every thrust. Slowly he leaned forward, wrapping around her body, nuzzling, purring, and kissing her back while his paws moved around her front and teased and massaged her sensitive breasts. She moaned deeply at that, leaning into his touches. She leaned back, trying to nuzzle against his neck, but he wasn't quite tall enough for that, his cheek rubbing along the top of her back. Still, the warmth and the fur against her flesh made her quiver and purr as she focused on the pleasure slowly being pumped into her.

This pace seemed to go on for a long time, never growing stale or losing its amazing sensation, but just starting to reach a hunger point in the Handler. She was going to need more, and fast, no matter how amazing this was. Just as she contemplated trying to take control, though, she felt him speed up, his first thrust a little awkward, a sign of his pleasure building, as a drop of warmth drooled into her. She shivered, knowing that sensation and wanting more, and her wish was immediately granted. He gripped her shoulder, gently, with his teeth, the tips of his fangs pressing against her skin while he purred dominantly. His paws moved from her breasts back to her hips, holding her in place as he sped up, using all the knowledge he'd newly mapped and putting it to the test.

He was a fast learner, as she was immediately screaming and shuddering, moaning into the blanket beneath her as he hit every pleasure center in her pussy. Her clit was throbbing, her walls clenching, there were even nerve clusters she'd never found with any toy singing out their joy as they were given the attention they needed. She rocked back against his thrusts, letting this feral position bring out the beast in her as he claimed her from behind, his hips slapping against hers, fur clinging to her sweaty body and making them truly look like one united beast with two backs.

His thrust went off a little again, the rhythm failing as he purred into her ear. “I'm close, Kitten. A cream pie, right? Topped to the brim?” He panted, his hot breath rushing over her cheek, spiced with the very herbs they picked together not so long ago. She shuddered, then nodded, ready to respond to his banter before he hit the perfect spot.

She wasn't sure what it was. Maybe the angle, maybe the barbs, maybe the payoff from the long buildup, but she literally saw stars. Her whole body coiled like a spring, then fired off at once, the orgasm crashing through her body from head to toe all at once. She screamed out in pleasure into the blanket, muffling the howl of pure lust as her body clamped and milked his cock, trying to practically pull him into her with the sheer need he'd sated and the warmth that bloomed inside her.

That load she'd felt fill her in the forest had been wonderful, the warmth a dream that had her caressing her belly and reminiscing after every good meal. She'd never had a sensation so deep and strange and satisfying. This blew that out of the water, the sheer amount of cum pouring into her from her lover filling her so much she thought it would spill free. She was surprised she wasn't showing a bump or looking bloated, the seed splashing across her inner walls and filling her like the warmest, happiest water balloon.

The Meowscular Chef was grunting and purring, holding her tight as he gave her his all. He'd been preparing, making sure not to let his dreams get too far and eating all the right meals to promote a healthy response here. He'd remembered the woods, how it had felt, how he'd been so empty... When, finally, the moment would come, he wasn't going to let a single drop go to waste, giving her his all. He held his grip, his teeth nearly drawing blood, while his hips twitched, the cock filling her up and the barbs holding her in place, making sure everything would spill in and stay there. His nuts practically ached at the sheer amount they were pumping, all for her. His love... She deserved the best, after all.

Eventually the whole moment was too much, and still joined at the hip they fell to the side, collapsing into a cuddle puddle with him behind her. He had to, sadly, pull free, letting his load leak out onto the sheets, but he held her, letting her nuzzle into his neck and chest, enjoying the afterglow together on the bed, kissing and purring and whispering sweet words as a proper couple rather than a random tryst.

As the glow started to fade and her fingers were twined in his paw, the blanket finally pulled over them so they could share the warmth, he nuzzled the top of her head. “Are mew sure I shouldn't get the protective herbs? I-” He was cut off and taken aback as she started giggling, then laughing, before she pulled him into an awkward kiss considering how she didn't want to leave his chest.

After that, she simply moved one of his paws down her body from her shoulder, over her sensitive breasts, to the slight curve of her Venusian belly. “Oh, it's a little too late for that. I was going to wait a little longer, but I can't. You left kittens in your Kitten last time, and I am very excited for the months to come.” She blushed and nuzzled his chest happily, though he froze a little at that.

For a moment his heart dropped and his mind raced. How improper to knock her up already! And a lady he loved... he should be ashamed. A felyne and a human? And what strange triple hybrid child would be born? His childhood had been riddled with so much turmoil. And in this new world, with rough terrain and dangerous monsters. Sure, she wouldn't be carrying the first children of the land, but...

He held her tight, letting her presence stop his racing mind, before he nuzzled into her neck, kissing along it, then her cheek, before planting one long kiss on her lips. If she was excited, he would be too. A small part of him really was. “I know it might be impurroper, but mew hold my heart, and now my kittens... Whatever comes, I will keep mew safe and face it together.”

She smiled warmly, almost having a glow about her as she nuzzled into his chest and held him close. “I wouldn't have it any other way, my Meowsterful, Meowscular love.” She then giggled, holding him close. “Best. Birthday. Ever.”