I Was An Alien Cat Toy (23 page)

gripping Gredar’s hips, more points of pleasurable pressure. His scent was now stronger, deeper and broader

in flavour—arousal, Gredar guessed. The smell made Gredar’s balls tighten to the point of pain with the need

to spend, and only the delicious slide and slick in his taeng distracted him enough to stop him whining, high

in his throat, to beg T’meen to move faster.

But something else...something most strange...was happening as T’meen, lost in concentration, kept

up a tormentingly careful, deep thrusting. Gredar’s taeng...no, his entire...his balls and kala...began

to...heat...such warmth, such.... He growled suddenly, uncontrollably as the fire in his loins spread suddenly

through his belly, even up into his chest, like he was lying on hot metal, only inside...like the feeling he’d had

when he’d tasted T’meen’s spending, only...concentrated...it was
inside
him, inside his taeng. Unbidden, his

claws emerged, and he gripped the bed furs, raking them up into mounds in his frustrated need. “T’meen!

More! Ye-ess!”

Surprised at Gredar’s shout, T’meen stuttered in his movements, glancing up to Gredar’s face, but his

wide, dark-pupilled eyes weren’t seeing him, as T’meen resumed his measured aggression, too caught up in

his own need to care much about Gredar’s concerns. His thrusts, his fucking, were not polite now, not

hesitant, somehow making the size difference between them of no consequence. T’meen was taking what he

wanted from Gredar’s body, with care, with skill, yet with an essential male selfishness that Gredar found

oddly thrilling. Hot, rolling sensation from taeng and balls rippled through him, sweeping him away with

wave after wave of deep, throbbing pleasure, like a spending that went on forever...but when he did spend,

what had gone before that was a mere foretaste, because this was almost pain, it was so strong, so...his body

vibrated, trembled uncontrollably, his lips issued a base howl of raw victory, and his tail, wrapped around

T’meen’s slowly moving body, tightened convulsively. He was unable to hold back his response, and could

only let his climax wash through him.

With a deep groan, T’meen, having spent himself, flopped down on top of him, and Gredar managed

to make his hand and arm work so he could pet his friend’s back. “Good,” he croaked. “Very, very good.”

T’meen only snuffled, his face buried in Gredar’s stomach, and Gredar grinned. His huu-man had

spent very forcefully, it seemed. His essence was just as powerful inside as it was out. What lusty creatures

the huu-man must be, with their oversize kalas and their maddening scent.

Under his hand, T’meen began to shiver a little, and Gredar realised he was covered with a fine film

of moisture—was he still wet from the bath? Gredar hastily dragged a fur over his friend and covered him

with his tail too. When they had both recovered, he could urge T’meen to move up, but right now, his arms,

his body, felt like wet leather, and he felt amazingly comfortable, drifting off in sated warmth, his body still

gently thrumming from a deep and satisfying spending.

He was half-asleep when T’meen finally stirred and decided he preferred to be closer to Gredar’s

face. Gredar tugged him up so he was now lying on Gredar’s chest. “T’meen haapy?”

“T’meen
tir-ed
. And haapy,” he said, lifting his head briefly to smile at Gredar, before flopping down

again. “Truly, is very good, much okay. T’meen very like.” He lifted his head again. “Gredar like?”

“Very very much. Good kala.”

“Huh.” He put his around Gredar’s chest and hugged tight—Gredar patted him, then covered him

with the fur again.

“T’meen?”

“Whaat?”

“Hmmm....huu-man kala makes scent. Too strong. Make daiyne want sex, very much.”

“Huh?” T’meen sat up a little, resting his head on his folded arms. “Kala scent?”

“Ye-ess. Make huu-man want sex, very much?”

“Scent? No. Kala have no scent.” He said something else, but Gredar missed it. “Make Gredar want

sex?”

“Very very much. Uh...Filwui and Buhi too, make want sex. Make
daiyne
want sex, truly.” It made

him long for the skill to explain to T’meen just what his kala was capable of, because an ability that amazing

should be shared. And warned against, perhaps. But definitely shared with the right people.

“Huh.” T’meen seemed genuinely perplexed.

Gredar tucked T’meen’s hair behind his ear, then cupped his head. “Scent no make huu-man want

sex?”

“No. Is strange thing.”

“Ye-ess,” Gredar agreed, then yawned suddenly. “Is strange. Gredar tir-ed. T’meen kala make Gredar

tir-ed.”

“Gredar say....” T’meen yawned too, pink tongue, pretty white teeth, all exposed. “Silly thing.”

“Maybe. Sleep now. Sex tomorrow.”

“Huh. Maybe.”

Gredar grinned and wrapped his arms around T’meen, who seemed very comfortable on his chest and

Gredar had no urge to move him. He felt...peaceful and warm, and strangely comforted by the weight of

T’meen on his chest.
Sleep well, little friend. What an amazing creature you are.

~~~~~~~~

For only the second time in his life, Temin woke after having had voluntary sex with an alien. The

feelings were a lot less troublesome this time around. It had been really
great
sex—again—but this time, he’d

felt more in control, like he was giving something back to Gredar and not lying there helpless. He was, he

considered wryly, a lot more touchy about his male ego than he’d ever realised. Jeng would laugh if he ever

admitted that to him.

Jeng
. Sharp sorrow made his chest ache. Jeng had been so close to rescuing him.... But now Temin

had to think about a new life without him, in this strange land. He was no closer to an answer about that than

he’d been the day before. All that had changed was that he had more vocabulary, more insight into day-neh

society—and the knowledge that humans and day-neh, despite all the evidence, were sexually compatible.

He’d bet none of the colonists had come close to discovering that interesting nugget of information.

Gredar was still fast asleep, but then it was barely dawn, if that. Too early to get up, so Temin cuddled

into his own personal thermal blanket. Until he’d landed on this planet, there were exactly two people who

were welcome inside his personal space without warning, and one of them was his mother. Now there was a

third one, and Temin didn’t know what to make of that, or where this was going. He and Jeng had been

lovers since flight school, and pretty much exclusive for the last two years. Jeng had been making noises

about finally getting a couple’s apartment and Temin had been getting to the point of saying okay—and now

look at him. Best friend and lover of an enormous cat.

He said it in his head three times—nope, didn’t get any less weird. Nothing about this situation was

normal. The best thing he could say about it was that it was occasionally a lot of fun.

~~~~~~~~

The days following the surat continued in much the same way, and thankfully without incident.

Gredar took T’meen to breakfast with his family, to everyone’s mutual embarrassment, then dropped him off

at Martek’s for the day while he attended to his duties and tried to mend things with Jilen. He detected a

slight mollification in her attitude, but nothing that would make him think T’meen was safe. He saw no sign

of Filwui, and only a glimpse or two of Buhi—his nephew was too profoundly disgraced to expect a warm

welcome, but he was carrying out his punishment obediently, so Gredar’s mother reported. Gredar hoped

there would be no further flare-ups before snowmelt—it would allow Buhi to recover his good name, and

hopefully T’meen’s status would be more secure. Early days, though.

He continued to practice his singing with Martek, much to T’meen’s obvious puzzlement. It was

easier to show his friend what they were working towards rather than explain it, so he was content to allow

T’meen to remain confused.

In the evenings, since T’meen couldn’t face two family meals a day, Gredar fed him in his room, and

hoped that wouldn’t set Jilen off again. Meal done, their day discussed, and all T’meen’s new vocabulary

gravely practiced, Gredar either wiped him down with cleaning leathers or provided another full bath, since

T’meen clearly enjoyed the chance to be properly immersed and clean. Strange in one whose scent was so

mild, and whose sense of smell was, frankly, inferior, but T’meen insisted that he and his cloze be washed

regularly. Since there was so little that he actually asked for, Gredar was happy to indulge this one request.

At night, they had sex, some of the best sex Gredar had ever experienced in his life, but Gredar didn’t

mention to anyone that T’meen was both friend and lover, even to the ever-curious Martek. He wasn’t

entirely sure why—he wasn’t ashamed of T’meen, and he saw nothing wrong in what they were doing. It was

just...he had a suspicion T’meen would suffer for it becoming common knowledge, and he couldn’t bear him

to be hurt again.

On the sixth evening after the surat, when they’d finished supper, Gredar told T’meen they were

going out again. “Huh? Is dark, Gredar.”

“Ye-ess. Is singing time. Gredar singing. T’meen come. Is good.”

T’meen backed away from him. “Uh... T’meen stay. Too cold.”

“Is not cold. T’meen is safe. Please?” Gredar gave a little encouraging yowl, and curled his tail

seductively around Temin’s waist. “Please? Is good, truly.”

T’meen sighed. “Okay.” Then he muttered something that didn’t sound particularly delighted.

“Huh?”

T’meen made a ‘never mind’ gesture and sighed again. Gredar patted his shoulder. His friend would

enjoy himself, honestly, he would.

They were early enough, which made Martek happy—he was always in a panic at a singing and his

apprentice, Jaijair, was fluttering back and forth trying to keep up with him as he paced and snapped out

orders. Gredar never understood why Martek got so worked up—after all, there was a singing every

moonsweep or so.

“Gredar! Why are you standing around! Get ready! Check your tools! And T’meen! Sit, sit—out of

the way!”

T’meen stiffened, and moved closer to Gredar. “Is okay,” Gredar hastily assured him, then pointed at

a cushion to the far side of the stage where he’d be safe and able to see and hear all that went on. “Gredar go,

come here soon. Understand?”

T’meen nodded, though he didn’t look happy—his eyes darted around the filling hall, and there was

no way he wouldn’t see that he was attracting a lot of attention. None of it was obviously hostile. Filwui

wasn’t anywhere to be seen—perhaps he’d not show his cowardly self tonight, which would be best for all

concerned. Gredar patted T’meen’s head, but was then hauled away by Martek to go over his song again.

It was a long singing, since the last one had been at the start of snowfall. His mother had a number of

announcements to make, then took her place again in the audience, surrounded by her daughters and

grandchildren. Gredar’s family always seemed bigger every time he looked—always one of the daughters or

granddaughters with newborn kitlings, or close to laying. The line of Kelara was secure for the next few

generations.

There was a short song from one of Filwui’s siblings about an improved wood joining technique he

had been trying and which seemed to be successful—Gredar paid close attention to the song and joined the

repetitions at the end, so he could pass it on at the gathering singings. Then it was Gredar’s turn—by this

stage in his life, after delivering dozens of singings, he was immune to nerves, but he still wanted to do well

for the sake of family pride.

He glanced at T’meen as he walked on stage—his little friend had been watching proceedings with an

intent expression, but now he smiled and made an odd gesture with his hands, both thumbs extended

upwards. Probably encouragement—Gredar shook his tail in thanks at him, and then began.

It was a complicated piece, and required two of his assistants to work with him as they demonstrated

the new pottery technique Gredar had learned at the gathering before last, and tested in the workshop. It was

fiddly, but produced pots and earthenware of superior durability and beauty, so was well worth the extra

effort. The important thing was getting the additives exactly right and being rigorous in the kiln temperature.

All his workers joined in for the final emphatic chorus, before several of the older kitlings stepped up to

show they had learned the song and its lesson. To the side, Martek nodded and beat the drums, Jaijair hit the

tune sticks. By the end, even T’meen was tapping his foot in time to the rhythm.

One of Martek’s more successful songs, Gredar thought, grinning as he watched the song being

passed around the room, the words tested and memorised, the beat and the lesson going together. They would

sing it again in several moonsweeps, and then once a season in classes as the written version was taught. The

clan would retain its place as one of the finest suppliers of earthenware this side of the Yetang sea if it could

master this new skill.

Martek, his tail twitching happily, rose to thank Gredar. “Anyone else want to sing? There’s the song

of the leather scraping, that’s always fun.”

A female rose—Nanar, head of one of the smaller families in the clan, and a good friend of Gredar’s