There Will Be Scritches, Interlewd L: Pancakes and Carpentry [1/2]

Pt.209 | Interlewd XLIX | [/2] | Interlewd LI | Pt.210 | First

---Disclaimer: This is the first part of two, released simultaneously, in an Interlewd in the story There Will Be Scritches. This entry contains graphic, sexually explicit description of (briefly) sex between two nonHumans of the same gender and (not so briefly) a Human and a nonHuman of the same gender! Now, with that said, please enjoy your pancakes... cooked with a little sausage!---

 

---Fem’s perspective---

“Get…*uh*… pregnant!…*uh*…  Get…*uh*… pregnant!…*uh*… Get…*uh*… pregnant!…*uh*…  Get…*uh*… pregnant!…*uh*… Get pregnant!…*uh*…  Get PREGNANT!!!” demands Krol, vigorously fucking the arsehole from behind me.

I giggle as, with one hand, he yanks the tail and pulls it taut and, with the other, grabs the left elbow and pulls that arm back towards him, using both of them as handles to fuck me harder.

The eyes roll back in the skull and the tongue comes out between the fangs as I’m absolutely ravaged by the biggest and strongest Folk in Lef!

The right arm reaches behind me to grip the right arsecheek on the one giving me this very welcome pounding.

I moan breathily, cumming all over the floor from the sensation of him cumming inside me.

He falls forward, dropping down onto me and pinning me to the ground beneath him.

He wraps the thick, muscly arms around the neck (juuust hard enough to suggest choking me without actually cutting off the breathing) as we both pant to catch the breath from doing it/having it done to us so hard!

He takes the left ear between the fangs and bites me just hard enough to make clear that he’s definitely still the Top and me definitely still the bottom here(!)

After a while of catching the breath under him I turn myself over.

He stops biting the ear and unplugs himself from the arsehole to let me but makes sure he stays on top as I roll to look up into the sexy face, the little cock on me rubbing against the big one on him.

“You know you can’t get a boy pregnant and you know you can’t get anyone at all pregnant from arsehole fucking, right Krol(?)” I tease.

“First time for everything(!)” the Top deadpans back down at me “I think a kid we made together’d be super cute, don’t you?”

“Sorry I can’t oblige you(!)” I grin, hiding the very slight twinge of genuine sadness I have that he and I will never make a baby together.

“Well… won’t hurt to keep trying(!)” he grins back before sticking the tongue out to leave a trail of slobber on the right side of the face.

“Krol!!! You’re an insatiable greedy(!)” I giggle before reaching up to wrap the arms around the thick chest and accepting “Fiiiiine… but that’s the last time for tonight though! I want to save something for if I can bag this Terran we’re meeting tomorrow!”

“*Ha*!” he laughs “Never gonna happen!… Everyone knows Terrans are prudes and waaaaay too greedy with sex to ever give it up to Folk, right!?”

“Oh yeaaaaah?… You wanna bet?”

He narrows the eyes “You don’t even know what they’ll look like yet! How do you know you’ll even want to do it with them?”

“Well… I’ve never seen a Terran who wasn’t bigger and stronger than you, Krol, so they’ll have that going for them… and, even if they aren’t exactly the type I like, still worth getting fucked just for the bragging rights, I’d say(!)” I joke.

“Yeah… think you’ll be disappointed… but I’ll be here to fuck you better when you are(!)”

---Kahurangi’s perspective---

I step off the shuttle into the snow on this plateau, overlooking the sparkling sea just to the South.

This place sort of looks like it did on that school trip to Moku Hau that I remember going on when I was 12 or so, to see Neonesia’s South Pole.

I’m about 700km West of the neck of the desert peninsula and the Vrakhand capital here.

The craft takes off behind me, leaving me here with my tiny hab unit and a trunk of tools.

I look out at the little crowd of Twigg who’re here to greet me.

There are about 50 or so of them and the skin of their hands and faces is sort of between the dark green, characteristic of the Southern ethnicity, and the light green, characteristic of the Central one, with a few of them having tinges of Western yellow to their hair, skin and eyes.

They are all incredibly cute… but, being the tallest person here by nearly a metre does make me feel a little like I’m facing several classes of nursery schoolchildren instead of (according to all the briefings at least) extremely sexual adults(!)

Without a word, I step forward, place a case down in the snow and open it, revealing 100 or so translators before stepping away.

The throng of cute little bipeds immediately surges forward and descends on the box.

I see some of them scooping translators out by the handful, I see them being dropped in the snow before being greedily snatched back up, I see the spares all being secreted inside coat pockets.

It’s far from the neat, orderly situation that would most likely occur for a crowd of Terrans, each person stepping up to take one of them before stepping away to make space for everyone else.

Fortunately, anticipating this, the liaison officer told me she wasn’t expecting any of the translators to make it back(!)

Once I can see that most of the Twigg have them attached at their temples, I speak, loud enough for mine to understand I’m addressing everyone “Greetings!… My name is Marine Engineer Kahurangi ‘Carving’ Manaaki. You may call me Kahurangi… I’m here to engage in a good will cultural exchange with your villages and to share my skills as a recognised tohunga whakairo (that is; an expert in traditional Māori carpentry and joinery) and I’ll be here for the next 10 days or until your new meeting hall is complete, whichever comes last. I hope to learn much from you about your society and culture during this time… Liaison Officer Dlamini has informed me that the translators are a gift that you may feel free to keep. My tools, however…” I kick the trunk next to me “…will be staying under lock and key when I’m not using them. I understand this will make me a ‘greedy’ in your eyes but I ask you to understand, not only is most of what I bring designed for Human hands and, as a result, of less use to you than it is to me, some of it is actively dangerous for anyone untrained to use… While here, I will be working under your direction and adding as much or as little of my own flourish and stylisation to my carving as you see fit to allow me… Now, shall we begin…?”

---Fem’s perspective---

I lie on the stomach in the windbreak we built yesterday for taking rests in, looking out of the open side to where the Terran chisels beautiful patterns into what will become rafters.

“He’s sooooo fucking hot…” I say, watching the way the muscles tense under the gorgeously tattooed skin of a thick, bare left arm.

“If he’s ‘sooooo hot’, why’d you not stay behind yesterday to give him a face lick?” asks Krol cocking an eyebrow.

I smirk back and gesture negative “That’s not how it works for Terrans! They find being asked for it by strangers weird and gross and they find having the face licked by strangers doubly gross! They need to get to know you first and he was too busy learning everything he needed to know for me to get a chance to talk to him, yesterday.”

“In that case…” chimes in Mal “…why don’t you go and talk to him now? He’s on his own and looks like he knows what he’s doing… Don’t think you’ll get a much better opportunity!”

I take a breath to say that he’s busy and he’ll be annoyed if I disturb him… but then I realise she’s right!

He’s going to be working every moment I’m with him until the hall is done… and “He did say he’s here to learn about us, right? He couldn’t really complain about me going to have a conversation with him, could he?”

Krol bares the fangs at me in a grin “Put like that, I’d say you were just fulfilling the duty as a Folk to accommodate the guest(!)”

I stand and start walking over to him, saying to everyone in the windbreak “Wish me luck!”

“Good luck!” they chorus back.

---Kahurangi’s perspective---

“Hey there!” comes a squeaky voice from my left as I kneel, carving mirrored whakairo spirals into either side of the joint between the two future rafters.

I turn my head to see an 80cm Twigg with bright green hair, vividly green eyes and dark freckles all over their cute, androgynous face.

Their almost synthetic looking green hair is curly, long on top and shorn short on the sides under their hood.

They’re short and (though it’s difficult to tell through their coat) skinny looking, even for a Twigg.

The coat also does a good job of disguising anything I could use to tell their gender.

Fortunately for me, being bi, that’s no obstacle at all to finding them cute as hell(!)

“Hey there, little fulla… Can I help you with something?” I say, continuing my carving.

They walk over to my pile of completed rafters and point down at one, asking “I’d like to talk. Is it OK if I sit here?”

“Go right ahead… Tell me your name first though…” I ask, hoping they don’t give me a name which is as androgynous as they are and put me in the slightly awkward position of needing to ask their pronouns(!)

“The name’s Fem and it’s nice to meet you!” he grins.

I give a completely involuntary snort at the coincidental English wordplay in his name that he’s surely completely ignorant of!

“Something funny?” he asks, smiling curiously.

“No, no! It’s nothing! Your name just… suits you quite well is all!” I reassure him, not wanting to risk explaining the joke to him in case he doesn’t find it funny “I’m Kahurangi, just for if you’ve forgotten.”

Thankfully, the cute boy chooses to move on from that without demanding any more details there, instead asking “Sooooo… Where are you from, Kahurangi? More specifically than ‘the stars’, ‘the [galaxy]’ or ‘the [UTC]’, I mean?”

“I’m from Neonesia originally. I was doing a master’s in engineering on KwaZulu when the War broke out and, already being fluent in both isiZulu and English and qualified in engineering, the recruitment officer told me he wasn’t going to send me home to be put in a Māori or Harmonised Polynesian speaking fleet… Been sailing with the Zulus ever since then.”

“Interesting!” says the boy with a tone that shouts, loud and clear, that he only understood about half at most of the information I just gave him “And what wood carving needs doing on star boat?”

I smile “Not much, I’m afraid… As an engineer, my job is mainly to do with the ships’ engines, hulls and other structures. It’s been extremely rare that any of my superiors have come to me with a desperate need for a piece of wood carved into a specific shape… though it has happened once or twice. Being a tohunga whakairo is mostly up to the fact that my mum and dad both were and I’ve been carving since about the time I could walk(!)”

“Cool!” he acknowledges.

He silently casts around for another subject change for a few moments before he finds one.

“You know, when you said you’d be here ‘10 days or whenever the hall was finished’ I thought it was funny that you thought it might be finished that quick!… But, with you around to carve and carry big and heavy things, I think it might actually be finished before then! I saw you carrying a stack of lumber that it’d’ve taken ten Folk to lift, earlier!”

“Well, I am probably more than ×10 your mass… but the Square-Cube Law means I won’t be ×10 stronger than you.” I answer.

Confused, he asks “The what now?… How does that work?”

Taking a moment to try and think of how to explain it simply enough that there’s any point explaining it at all, I say “Big things are less strong than small ones in proportion to their mass. Strength is determined by cross-sectional area, mass is determined by volume. If you shrank me down to the size of a Twigg, I’d be weaker than a Twigg because I’d have a lot of unnecessary bone and connective tissue, meant to support a 90kg body not a 9kg one. I don’t know how it is here but, on my cradleworld, land mammals can’t get over about 20tonnes because of the physical limitations placed on us by the solidity of our bones; Over 20tonnes, a solid skeleton can’t support the amount of muscle that would be needed to effectively move it around. There were animals on Earth a long time ago that got bigger but they needed hollow bones that were lighter without sacrificing strength or rigidity for that… The Square-Cube law is also why I’m working in short sleeves while the rest of you are all wearing coats. I’m bigger so my body holds onto heat better. If I were dressed like you, I’d be sweaty.”

Silence answers.

I steal a glance at his face and see it wracked with confusion and alarm.

Finally, he asks “Are there… Are there [20tonne] Terrans?!”

I cackle in laughter at the question which lets me know (despite my best efforts) that I failed to hit the appropriate register for him and put my tools down before, still laughing, answering “No, there aren’t… different species of Terran land mammals have been nearly that big, not mine! A Human who was half my weight would be very small, a Human who was twice my weight would be very large… Almost every Human you’re likely to meet will be somewhere in that range…”

Looking relieved, he sits and watches me in silence for a minute or so.

“I like your tattoos… You think you could give me ones like that?” he finally says.

“No. For many different reasons.” I state simply, not angry at the ignorance he’s just demonstrated.

“What reasons?” he says, sounding crestfallen.

“Well, first off, how old are you? Giving a tattoo to someone underage might not be a problem in your culture but I’d definitely get in trouble if my CO found out I’d tattooed a child!”

“I’m not a child!” he says indignantly “I’m [22 years] old!”

I’m briefly both confused and alarmed by having his age divided by 2.7 before my translator catches up to the fact that he’d obviously not be measuring his age in Terran years, would he(!)

He’s a firmly responsible adult.

“Fair enough. That’s one reason down but I’m afraid there’s nothing you can say to invalidate the rest.” I say, finishing the spiral and picking up both beams to carry over to the far side of the pile he’s sitting on.

I feel some satisfaction at the clear admiration on his face seeing me handle these heavy pieces so effortlessly.

After I’ve put them down, he shakes himself back and asks “Oh yeah? What are the rest?” with an adorable note of petulant defiance.

“Well…” I pause over the stack of undecorated beams, turning towards him and gesturing the patterns on the sides of my face and  my uncovered arms, calmly explaining “…these are my tā moko. If I just transferred my tattoo design directly onto you, you’d be walking around with my genealogy, my life history, my achievements, my everything written all over you… I don’t know how you’d feel about that but I’d definitely be uncomfortable with it(!) Then there’s the fact that I’m not a tohunga tā moko, meaning I’d never be able to design or apply you your own tā moko, even if you told me your entire life history. Then there’s the fact that you’re not Māori. Giving you tā moko’d absolutely be a hara. Even if you are an adult, even if I was a tohunga of it, even if I knew your life history, the best I’d be able to do is give you a kirituhi design; Māori style but lots of the motifs not in there.”

The attractive boy pouts at me.

I decide to attempt a slightly risky flirt to break the tension caused by my so thoroughly refusing his impossible request “…There’s one more reason…”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” he sulks.

“Well… you’re really cute… I don’t think you could pull off tats, little fulla(!)” I grin.

The boys stares back at me, blankly, for a moment, terrifying me into thinking I just missed the mark.

Then, to my relief, he bursts into squeaky giggles.

---Krol’s perspective---

“I think I’ve almost got him!” says Fem, delusionally, as we perch up on the half finished roof to slat it.

“Fem, it’s been 6 days!… No one’s that much of a tease! If he wanted to do it, he’d’ve asked you by now, right!”

“No, no, no!” he refuses “There’ve always been other Folk around! He’s not had the opportunity to ask me, same as I’ve not had the opportunity to ask him!” looking longingly at the muscly Terran with the back and sides of the head shaved bald to show off the designs inked into the light brown skin.

“You understand that, if he wanted to get you alone, it’d be as simple as saying ‘Hey Fem! Could I talk to you over there for a moment?’ right?” I frown “I really just don’t think it’s happening!”

“It’ll happen!” he hisses with unusual force (clearly the sexual frustration of going 6 days without, hoping for his opportunity, is getting to him) “I just need an opportunity… If it gets to the last night and nothing’s happened, I’ll just come out and ask him.”

“Aaaand you think you can hold out that long, do you(?)” I chuckle.

He turns to glare at me.

I keep chuckling but decide to stop teasing him about it for now.

---models---

Fem & Krol | Fem | Kahurangi | Haka | Lick | Sex

---

Pt.209 | Interlewd XLIX | [/2] | Interlewd LI | Pt.210 | First

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