I was tired, man. I also still owe you the tear-down of my own horrible Krystal porn. It's coming. Don't be a hater, maaaannn.
We're actually catching up to more recent work, now. This isn't quite chronologically the next thing I wrote, but I already destroyed that with the Krystal nonsense, anyway.
I don't have a whole lot to say about this, except that the species is again borrowed from the lovely work of *morningstar located at http://gerbilfat.tumblr.com/. Specifically, this species:
And again, it spun off from an RP. I'm a master at perverting the cleanly, what can I say?
This is the first of probably many stories with this character set. I'm almost finished with the second one. Here's a snippet to whet your palette:
Nefil watched his older brother whisper, but the words were drowned out
by song. Then he watched Nali punch his brother in the shoulder.
“Jonet!” she squeaked, indignant. “She’s sacred!” She followed the first
punch with another, then another, but she couldn’t stop herself from grinning
as she pummeled the older boy.
“Hey, hey, stop! I can’t help it! Stooop!”
After a final punch for good measure, she shook her head with a giggle.
“You’re a dirty heathen. I don’t know why I invite you over.”
Jonet smirked. “Because you like it.”
With a shake of her head, Nali did her best to look angry. “Not at all.
You’re terrible.” She leaned back until she was halfway lying on Nefil, putting
as much distance as she could between herself and Jonet. “You drag your brother
here and leave him all alone with some stranger, then you go saying
inappropriate things about the deer spirit. You know what? I’m gonna be friends
with Nefil, instead.” Her head dropped backwards, until she was leaning over
the younger brother’s arm and looking him in the eyes. “How would you like
that, Nefil? Want to be friends? I’m nice to my friends, you know.”
Nefil found himself caught between a giggle and a blush. Her voice was
sending tingles through his belly and fingertips, which was definitely weird
and definitely hadn’t ever happened before. How could words do that? He decided
it must be the tea. He drooped his face over Nali’s and gave her a big grin.
“Sure. You gave me tea. We can be friends.”
Nali smirked back. One of her hands trailed up Nefil’s neck, fingertips
gracing his cheek and ear before coming to rest on the back of his head. And
then in a single, sudden motion, she drew her lips toward his and pulled,
forcing his face into hers.
Nefil’s eyes grew wide, then fell firmly closed, a soft gasp leaving his
throat as Nali bit his lip. He pressed back, his lips groping blindly, a novice
motion that would have embarrassed him without so much tea.
Nali made the most of his motions, nipping and sucking at his lips,
drawing another gasp, then another. When she finally pulled away, she watched
as his hands clenched slowly into fists, then slowly unfurled, fingertips
digging into the dirt. His breath was heavy, his gaze lost, and she gave him a
knowing smirk. “No, silly. I’m nice
to my friends. Ask your brother. We used to be friends.”
Jonet chuckled and shook his head. Scooting closer to Nali, he reached
over and ruffled his brother’s hair. “It’s true. She’s a sweetheart. ” He
reached for the cup and emptied the last of the tea pot. After finishing his
half, he handed the rest to Nali with a smirk. “You can be her new friend,
Nefil, but I still get first dibs.”
Nali took the cup with a wicked grin.
As usual, stay away from this story if you're opposed to graphic sexual content and wallowing in hedonistic joy. But then if you are, why are you here?
(P.S.: All characters in this story are at least eighteen, because I wrote it, and I say so.)
The boat was
drawing near to the island. Even in the distance, the young man could already
detect the gentle waft of festival food in the air. Sweet or salty, fried or
boiled, it was all wonderfully indulgent, the kinds of foods that elders warned
the little ones not too eat too much of or they’d get a bellyache.
Nefil’s arms ached, and he
wondered how much longer he’d have to row before another of the young men on
the boat would offer to take over. The water had been gracious, thankfully, and
for much of the trip they’d had to put little effort into the journey at all.
It was just his luck that the current had failed them when it was his turn.
As if sensing his fatigue, his
older brother gestured for the oar. Nefil handed it over without a word,
nodding graciously as he slid back into the belly of the boat. The lively
chatter that’d passed most of the journey so quickly had died down, replaced by
a thick, tangible nervousness, each of the boys on the boat slipping into their
own fantasy of how this night would go.
