Chapter Text
A raw, desperate cry cut through the silence of the endless void. In its wake followed others of similar stripes, each a touch louder, a hair more animalistic than the last. After a few moments the tenor of the sounds shifted, and a new dimension emerged: concern. It began as a flicker, a little spark hidden at the bottom of each grunt and groan. But it grew with each vocalization, burning brighter and hotter until it surpassed the sounds of need and primal exertion both.
Kris’ final moan was one formed almost entirely of worry, poured out of their lungs as they slammed into the very end of their endurance. They withdrew in the nick of time, with scant fractions of a second to spare, as all the glorious tension they had built released. Their seed jetted out in thick, pearly strands, and marked the prone form of their partner from belly to chest.
The human made a new sound, then, as their essence spurted out. It was warm, and throaty, and strangled, like the tones of joy and pleasure had collided on the freeway on their way out of Kris’ body. The noise made a stark contrast with the one from below.
“Ugh,” grunted the girl, as she poked at the white goo in the cleft of her breasts. “Really, Kris?”
The disappointment in her voice stabbed the human like an icicle. If the pleasure of their orgasm was a warm, comforting mist, the girl’s displeasure was a stark, frigid cold front that scoured it away in a second.
“I just-” the human tried. They put up a hand, half in defence, and half to cover themselves. They had disrobed a while ago, but only now did they feel naked. “It just… It felt way better than-”
A warm hand grasped the floundering teen’s shoulder. “Hey, hey,” came the girl’s voice, again, absent the edge it had just borne. “I’m not mad you nutted fast,” she assured. “I kinda figured you would.” The girl chuckled to herself as she sat up.
Kris couldn’t tell if they should be comforted or embarrassed by the idea that she had clocked their early finish ahead of time. Before they could come to a decision, a warm, fuzzy hand brushed against their cheek, and turned their head, and suddenly they were face to face with the prettiest girl in the world.
The human supposed, distantly, that she held that title by default, given their present circumstances. But, they had bestowed it on her long ago, when there were many, many more girls around.
“It’s not a big deal,” Dess said. The hand on Kris’ shoulder traced a hard keratin nail down their chest, and then swooped into a soft landing on the fur of the doe’s inner thigh. “As long as you don’t leave me hanging. Alright?”
Kris studied the girl for a moment. Their upbringing had honed in them a certain ability to detect placation and platitudes that hid something beneath. But, Dess Holiday had always had an unvarnished, blunt honesty to her. Even in the dim light of the sprawling blackness they resided in, Kris could see sincerity on her face.
“Alright,” the human said with a nod, and a hint of blush. “But, what upset you, then?”
The girl quirked her head ever so slightly. Kris could see a faint shine on her dark curls as they bounced. “Huh?” she wondered, as though the answer were obvious. “I didn’t get why you pulled out.”
Kris blinked a few times at the revelation. They sat in silence, before they took their turn communicating something they thought to be obvious. “I just-” they began, before the phrase turned to ash in their mind. “I mean-”
The doe seized on her fellow inmate’s mincing. The hand on Kris’ face leapt to the top of their head, and threaded fingers into their hair. “Use your words, Kris,” Dess teased. “Maybe take a minute and think.” Gently, but firmly, her hand pressed down. “You’ve got something to take care of in the meantime.” Kris accepted the instruction, and swallowed their malformed thoughts. Instead, they let the girl’s hand guide their head downwards, and tug their face between her legs.
For most of Kris’ life, thanks to their mother’s strict parental controls, the best they could do to sate their curiosity about the fairer sex was to peruse inadequately classified library books. Stodgy old romance novels tended to describe female genitals in two ways: in the obtuse imagery of flowers, honeypots and the like, and in quick vagueries so that the narrative could hurry along to descriptions of throbbing men. Neither were particularly helpful in imagining what a woman looked like down there. Kris had been floored, years later, to see the cold clinical charts and diagrams in their anatomy texts. But, even those didn’t really match what Kris saw in front of them.
They studied Dess, from their floor-level vantage point, and tried to describe to themselves the place that had just brought them to such heights.
It wasn’t neat and tidy like the diagrams; The girl’s nethers were covered in dark, curly fur. Even slick with her juices, Kris could tell the hair was more wild down there than on the rest of her body.
It wasn’t a simple cleft or entrance, either. Her outer lips were wide and puffy. The folds inside bulged out in some places, and tucked away neatly in others. With some hint of pride, Kris wondered if their handiwork contributed to that disheveled, visually complicated look.
Most of all, though, Kris thought that Dess’ cooch was nothing like a flower. Kris couldn’t deny a certain animal appeal to its musky scent, but it was a far cry from a floral tone. More than smell, though, flowers carried with them an idea of order, perfection and purity that just didn’t match the reality in front of Kris. Dess’ folds were unkempt, unruly and glistening with a blatant want. She didn’t at all match with the perfect, pining romance heroines Kris had tried to picture as a youth. But, they couldn’t imagine Dess looking any other way.
“You know what to do, right?” Dess asked, up above.
Kris shook off their daydream. “Yeah,” they answered, practically into her. To the best of their knowledge, they weren’t lying. Shitty romance novels couldn’t quite describe what a vagina looked like, but they all had similar advice on how to treat one. The women who tended to write them couldn’t all be full of hot air, could they?
Any further prodding on Dess’ lips vanished then, transformed into a gasp, as the human leaned in and licked up the length of her slit.
Immediately, Kris was pleased with the fruits of their meager labor: both the cute sound Dess made and the tangy, almost metallic taste of her juices. So, they tried for more. They lapped at her again, and again after that. Each stroke of their tongue pressed a little deeper, and dragged a little more deliberately along the sensitive skin. Such was their desire for more, that the human ignored the scratchy texture of her fur against their tongue. They were rewarded in kind, with louder and throatier gasps, and with more of that enticing fluid.
The human found themselves focusing, after a while, on the taut, warm entrance they had just been inside. The girl’s taste was the strongest there, tinged as it may have been with some trace of Kris’ own. But, that was selfish, they knew. If they wanted to pay Dess back for the experience she’d given them, they’d be at it all day, or night, or whatever inscrutable unit of time passed in the void if all they did was try to shove their tongue inside her. So, they drew their appendage back, and began searching.
They probed around near the top of her folds, where slick flesh met soggy fur. This part was more difficult than smut made it seem, rifling around among the more delicate, less identifiable bits of their partners anatomy. Eventually, though, they picked up a cue.
Dess moaned for the first time as Kris’ tongue scrubbed a particular spot. Not a gasp, or a groan or a sharp inhale, but a genuine hot, bothered moan. That raw, needy sound was music to Kris’ ears. Music that they could do to hear more of. So, they honed in on that spot, that little tucked-away bauble, and gave it their full attention.
Not in the same way they had earlier, when they worked at Dess’ outer folds. They didn’t lap away at the little bud they’d found. Instead, they built anticipation, tracing their way around it, barely grazing at the edges, before giving it a stroke or two. Their strategy paid off, in short order. Just as Kris’ had before, Dess’ cries steadily grew louder, and huskier, and more desperate for the sensation she was enjoying.
The girl’s hands found either side of Kris’ head, and her fingers threaded into the mop of their hair. They looked up from between their bangs, and saw her grinning down at them with two glinting little ruby slivers behind mostly-lidded eyes.They hoped their eyes were smiling back, at least, with their mouth otherwise indisposed.
“You’re doing great, Kris,” she managed, between moans.
Kris was grateful they had a refractory period, then. If they had been ready to go, hearing their name, in her voice, in that husky, addled tone might have brought them to another embarrassingly quick end. Instead, it just brought warmth to their chest.
Kris continued that way, for a while, ignoring the doe’s increasingly vicelike grip on their scalp in favor of the enjoying the ever-increasing pitch of her vocalizations. It was the girl that finally put a pause to their routine.
“You know,” she choked out, almost out of breath despite the lack of a need to breathe, “nothing says you can’t use your fingers, too.”
Kris’ tongue stopped in its tracks, just a hair away from jabbing at Dess’ clit again. They certainly hadn’t thought of involving their hands, pinned as they were under the human’s prone form. But, they were providing a service, they reckoned. One they’d like to be good at. It’d be wise to take their only client’s feedback into consideration.
So, the human shifted their weight, and freed their good hand out from under them. Their index finger slid in with incredible ease, even considering how slick and gooey Dess’ entrance was. Kris tried to find the rhythm they’d been working on earlier, teasing and grazing and then paying off. But, it was harder to pull off as gracefully, with half their focus on scrubbing at Dess’ inner folds.
If the girl noticed any deterioration in technique, she didn’t show it. The combination of being toyed with inside and teased outside sounded like a winner, if Dess’ moans were any indication. Her cries took on another dimension, one familiar to Kris even with their short history with moaning. Her hips shifted, and quivered as the human played with her, and her eyes screwed shut.
“Shit,” she finally grunted to herself, and Kris felt her insides begin to spasm. Dess made no move to push the human away as she came, but they decided to wind down the intensity of their movements. Half to avoid overstimulating her, and half to enjoy the show, as a wave of pleasure twisted the girl’s face into all sorts of cute expressions.
At the bottom of a well of pride and satisfaction, Kris found one smug little coin. They couldn’t have been working on her for more than the equivalent of a few minutes. And, despite their dubious education in the realm of handling women, they were at best an amateur. So, Kris reasoned, Dess had had a pretty quick finish, by female standards. They wondered if she had clocked that, too.
