Chapter 11: Learn From the Best

Cal put on his boots to protect his feet from the undergrowth, then fetched the spool of paracord and one of the rain tarps from the pack. He stretched the tough cord between two trees at the edge of camp that were suitably close together, tying knots to secure them around the trunks. Next, he draped one of the tarps over the cord, using the included metal rings at its corners to drive them into the soil using hooked tent pegs. The last step was finding rocks suitable to hold down the edges of the fabric, Poppy helping him collect them cheerfully. When they were done, they were left with a tent-shaped shelter large enough that Murzka could lie flat without her legs sticking out. Cal lay the other tarp on the ground beneath it, then unzipped his bivvy bag and spread it out to serve as a mattress.

“Simple, yet elegant,” the Araxie said as she appraised the work. “My people have a similar method using rope and our cloaks to create an emergency shelter.”

“Looks big enough for all of us,” Cal said. “If there’s no room for Kevin, he’ll just go in the inflatable tent.”

Murzka wasted no time walking over to the shelter, dropping to her knees, and crawling inside. Poppy followed, giving Cal a glance over her shoulder that was chased by a knowing smile.

“Are you coming, Cal?”

He steeled himself, then walked over to the tarp, crouching down to look inside. Murzka had already made herself at home, her tall frame stretched out on the bivvy bag, though she was a couple of feet longer than it was. Her dark fur made her blend into the shadows, but her green eyes remained bright. Poppy was short enough that she could stand inside it, her antennae barely brushing the sloping fabric that made up the ceiling. She had brought the lamp from the tent, and she set it on the tarp, its warm glow illuminating the space. It was hard to say which was more mesmerizing – the way that the light reflected off Murzka’s velvet fur, or the way that it made Poppy’s iridescent carapace glitter.

Cal kicked off his boots and crouch-walked inside to join them. The tarp was large, but it wasn’t designed with Araxie proportions in mind, the extra height meaning that the floor space was only about two meters across. As spacious as that might be for a human, it was a little less so when shared with Murzka. His two companions had made a space for him between them, Poppy lying on her side and patting the plush fabric of the bivvy bag with a lower hand in invitation.

“Kept it warm for you,” she chimed.

“Everything in this damned jungle is warm,” he grumbled as he lay down between them. He was used to Poppy’s proximity now, but he was scared to even touch Murzka, stiffening up as he felt the silken fur of her arm brush against his. The little Worker wasted no time, and in a moment, she was clinging to him tightly.

“What’s wrong, Cal?” she asked sweetly as she lay her head on his chest. “You’ve gone so stiff all of a sudden. Relax. Sleeping communally is normal for Jarilans, and for Araxie. It’s really just humans that like to go it alone.”

“I will not keep you here if you would prefer to return to your tent,” Murzka added.

“No, no,” Cal muttered. “This is fine – it’s just ... new.”

They lay together in silence for a few minutes, then Cal began to hear the patter of rain on the tarp, looking up to see the shadows of fat droplets hitting it.

“Looks like we were just in time,” he muttered. “I guess the storms haven’t completely passed.”

“You know, I think I’ve come around to storms,” Poppy said as she shuffled a little closer to Cal. “Thunder is ... alarming, granted, but hearing the rain outside when you’re warm and dry is kind of cozy. I almost wish it was colder so that we could all snuggle up under some blankets.”

“I think you’d like the winter,” Cal said. “That’s traditionally when you’re supposed to drink hot chocolate.”

“There are no winters on this planet,” Murzka added. “It is strange, and somewhat disorienting.”

Cal felt Murzka shift, then her warm breath blew his hair, making him freeze up again.

“The scent of our soaps becomes you,” she said. It was incredible how much power her voice retained despite the quietness of her whispering, mirroring the grace with which her massive body could slink through the trees. She rolled onto her side next to him, her green eyes examining her bemused neighbor. “It is our custom to share everything with our packmates,” she began. “Not only in terms of food and equipment, but companionship.”

“Companionship?” Cal asked. He felt his heart quicken, and Poppy certainly did too, the Worker watching their interaction with bright eyes.

“I have been separated from my pack since I parted ways with you and Poppy in the village that night. We said our farewells with vigor, but it has been near two weeks. Since then, you have both become as packmates to me. I am unaccustomed to sleeping alone when worthy companions are in reach.”

This was it – the moment Poppy had been warning him about. He felt his face burn red as the Araxie leaned closer, examining him with a confidence that eclipsed his own growing nervousness. He felt like a vibrating ball of energy, but she was as stoic as a rock.

“You have always been attentive, and you learn well,” she added. “I would very much like to take you as my student tonight. I have much to teach you of our ways.”

“Oh, please say yes,” Poppy muttered. She was filled with almost as much nervous energy as he was, her lids drooping as she watched the exchange – enamored. “Murzka, he has so much to learn. You have no idea.”

“Will you have me?” Murzka added, reaching down to cup Cal’s face in her hand. Her fist would have been the size of his head, his flushed cheek filling her palm, that silky coat incomparably soft against his skin. It was like she was wearing a velvet glove. “I sense your hesitation, but I assure you that an Araxie can be as gentle as she is quiet.”

At that moment, with those emerald eyes peering down at him, Cal couldn’t have refused if he had wanted to. He hardly even heard the words leave his lips, but the moment he had uttered his consent, Murzka drew him in. Still cupping his cheek in her hand, she lifted his head, guiding him into a kiss as she came down to meet him. How he had admired those dark lips from afar, their fullness and their shine, their texture even more pillowy than he had imagined. They were too large – mismatched for a human, but he found that it only added to their allure.

Her flowery scent was already filling his lungs with each breath, chased by the sweet hint of exertion, the sound of the rain pattering on the ferns outside joining the sound of his pulse. He was scarcely even aware of Poppy anymore, but she had shuffled away to give the pair space, watching their encounter intently as her antennae waved in the air.

After a gentle peck, Murzka paused, filling Cal’s ears with her husky whispering.

“Have you kissed before?”

She was treating him like a trembling virgin, and while it was a little embarrassing, it must appear that way from her perspective. Murzka was so vastly different from the women he’d been with that this might as well be his first time.

“Not someone like you,” he stammered, the way that she smiled in response making his heart leap. She didn’t want him to be experienced, he realized. Teaching was part of the allure.

“Then, I shall demonstrate.”

She drew him close again, their lips locking. This time, he felt the tapered tip of her tongue probe his mouth. He’d seen it before when she was cleaning her fingers – a clear foot of glistening muscle topped with a forest of barbs designed to comb through fur. He felt none of them, however. True to her word, Murzka was as gentle as she could be, only a couple of inches of slick flesh beginning to probe him. He could sense her restraint, very aware that she could have overwhelmed him if she had been so inclined, the Araxie favoring the organ’s smooth underside. She glanced the roof of his mouth, creating a wonderful tingling sensation, seeming to map the unfamiliar shape of his tongue. It had been so long since Cal had been kissed, and this was a kiss like no other, the Araxie leaning into him as she painted his inner cheeks with tender licks.

It dragged on and on, every stroke of her dexterous tongue sapping his strength away, a wonderful kind of lethargy falling over him. Every atom of his being was drawn to her, begging to sink into her arms and let her do whatever she wished with him if only this feeling would continue. It was only when she sensed him running out of air that she broke away, conscious of his human limitations, her thumb stroking his cheek as she watched him take in a staggered breath.

“Slowly,” she whispered. “Savor it – do not go too quickly. It is in haste that we make mistakes.”

“I think he needs another demonstration,” Poppy said with an excited giggle. “He doesn’t have the technique down yet, Murzka.”

The Araxie pressed him down into the plush bivvy bag again, locking him in a slow and gentle embrace. After the initial shock had worn off, Cal raised a hand to her cheek in kind, running his fingers through her fur. It was thin enough that it almost felt like wet skin, the individual hairs hard to perceive. She gave him a few encouraging licks before waiting for him to reciprocate. He did his best to match her pace, swirling his tongue around hers, feeling a few of those little barbs brush against him.

“Sorry,” he said as she broke away. “Still a little rusty, I guess.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Poppy sighed, resting her head in an upper hand as she watched the exchange. She was treating it like an episode of some soap opera.

“I find your lack of barbs ... intriguing,” Murzka said, a little more overt arousal creeping into her tone now.

“Barbs?” Cal repeated as she began to crawl on top of him. “The ones on your tongue?”

She planted a large hand to either side of his shoulders, swinging a long leg over his hips. While straddling him, she had to bend double to bring her face close to his, and he still found himself lifting his chin to make eye contact. Something about that made butterflies swarm in his belly. The Araxie kept the bulk of her weight off him, careful not to crush him.

“I had heard rumors, and I am glad to confirm them,” she said as she sat up straight. “Such a smooth tongue opens up many ... exciting possibilities. Perhaps you have something to teach me in kind.”

Murzka began to unfasten the many belts that adorned her, the pouches and bandoleers sloughing off, piling up on the tarp. Next, she began to loosen her sling, Cal’s breath catching in his throat as he watched the tight leather garment slowly slide off her. Her fur was so dark that it was hard to make out, like trying to spot a shadow in the night, but the way that the dim lamp reflected off her wet coat picked out her features.

The clothing pulled away to reveal her breasts, making them bounce softly as their support was removed. Murzka’s figure was slender and athletic – he had never imagined her as being very endowed, yet the sheer scale of her body threw his sense of proportion out of whack. For a Borealan, they might have been B-cups – about large enough to comfortably fill a feline hand. They had a subtle teardrop shape, just full enough to wobble enticingly when she shifted her weight, a pair of pink nipples protruding through her fur. On a human scale, they were far more generous – big enough that he might have needed both hands to encompass one. Yet still, their lean appearance and their apparent size clashed in his mind.

“She wants you to touch her,” Poppy whispered as Murzka dropped her sling to the pile of belts. “I know how much you want it too, Cal. I can taste it on the air...”

It was a little unorthodox having Poppy watching and commenting from the sidelines like it was some kind of sporting event, but he found that he appreciated her presence. Murzka had been the object of his admiration, always so distant and mysterious, but Poppy had been friendly with him from the start. There had clearly been more to her affection than he had realized. Maybe she was right, and he really was oblivious...

Cal reached out and placed a hand on Murzka’s belly just above the hem of her shorts. He slid it higher, enjoying the texture of her fur beneath his palm, feeling toned muscle rise to greet him from beneath the damp velvet of her coat. Its perfect uniformity was marred by the scar, the pink color of healing flesh standing out starkly, the Araxie tensing as his thumb brushed it.

As he roamed higher, he felt the chiseled contours of those perfect abs – the very same that he had seen straining during her crunches earlier that evening. It was almost surreal, like something that should only exist in a fantasy, as if her every curve and muscle had been expertly cut from a block of solid obsidian. In the same way that the river cut channels through the valley and smoothed stones with its passage, so too had the gravity of her homeworld shaped her into something beautiful.

Her chest was at the limits of his reach, but Murzka leaned a little closer, engulfing his hand in hers and guiding it higher. She pressed it against her breast, squashing it into her cushiony flesh, a firm nipple digging into his palm. There was enough fat to spill around his fingers, his digits sinking deep when he squeezed, yet the tissue beneath was as firm and as springy as rubber. It was paradoxical – that it could be so full and inviting while retaining such a lean appearance.

She let out a low sigh that was more akin to a purr as he kneaded gently, her wide hips starting to grind reflexively, though the crotch of her leather shorts was still hovering a couple of inches above him. Just watching her move was mesmerizing, her sinewy muscles shifting beneath her gleaming fur, every inch of her body a work of art. He could see tiny veins beneath her coat when they caught the light, shining droplets of moisture trickling down her torso, pooling in her navel.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re not looking anymore,” Poppy teased.

“He has much to learn when it comes to moving unseen,” Murzka added, glancing at the Worker with a smile. “Though, there is nothing wrong with admiring one’s packmates. Had you come to me with a request, Briggs, I would have indulged your curiosity gladly.”

“R-really?” he asked, meeting her gaze as she peered down at him from what felt like a mile away. “It didn’t even occur to me to ask.”

“I told you he has a lot to learn,” Poppy added. “He hasn’t hung around the settlement as long as I have.”

“Then he is lucky to have a willing tutor,” Murzka purred, sitting up straight again. Her chest moved beyond his reach, the silky fur and soft flesh of her bosom leaving his hand. There was no time to feel disappointment, however. He glanced down as she brought her hand to the hem of his shirt, lifting it up, careful to keep those wicked claws clear of his skin.

Cal quickly got the picture, helping her tug it the rest of the way off, sweat already gluing it to him. The Araxie brought her hand down to his chest, her fingers easily spanning it, the tips of those claws pricking him ever so slightly. He might have been intimidated being beneath so much weight, but true to her word, Murzka was treating him as though he was made of glass. She trailed her fingers down his torso, Cal feeling a flood of different sensations assail him. There was the silken touch of her fur, the fleshy texture of her pads, and the slight pressure of her claws.

“Even less fur than an Equatorial,” she muttered to herself. “I did not anticipate that it would be so ... smooth.” She paused when she reached his shorts, smiling at the growing tent. “You are showing already.”

She hooked a single claw around his waistband, giving the elastic an experimental tug, then pulled it down to expose him. His member bounced free, standing prominent and erect. He froze up as he felt the soft pad of Murzka’s finger brush his tip, the Araxie taking a moment to examine what must be very strange anatomy to her. He had no idea what male Araxie were packing or how they might compare in size. Poppy was looking too, going quiet as her eyes lingered on his pulsing shaft.

“Got enough to work with?” Cal asked.

“If I seem surprised, it is because I expected less,” she said as her dark lips curled into a sly smile. “I wondered how your women could handle our men, and now I have my answer. There is not such a great difference between the blade and its sheath after all.”

“She’s saying that humans have big cocks for their size,” Poppy added, shattering the tension and making him laugh.

Murzka began to unfasten the belt on her shorts, but Cal reached up a hand to stop her.

“Let me,” he said. She leaned back a little, bringing her hips closer to him, her eyes following him as he began to unfasten the iron clasp on her belt. He pulled it through the loops, then loosened the thick stitching that held her shorts together at the front. She would have to lift off him to take the garment all the way off, but before she could move, he sat up and brought his lips to her belly. Murzka tensed as he kissed that sculpted midriff, tasting the salt on her coat, the fine hairs only just perceptible beneath his tongue. With one hand gripping the hourglass curve of her hip, he roamed lower, stopping only when her fur gave way to leather.

“You have an eagerness to please,” she mused, her husky voice a sordid whisper. “It is a desirable quality in a packmate, and one that I would do well to indulge.”

She rose off him, her ears brushing the ceiling of the tent, giving her just enough room to slide down her shorts the rest of the way. It was a bit of a struggle – they were so tight that they creaked when she moved. They joined her sling and her belts on the tarp as she lowered herself back down on top of him, his eyes drawn to her inexorably.

Between those powerful thighs was a faint sliver of pink nestled amidst her dark fur, a solitary strand of her excitement glittering in the lamplight. Rather than poise over his member, she moved higher, her thighs coming down on either side of his head like sheer walls of fur and muscle. They were so thick and developed that he could have hugged one like it was a whole person.

He felt her springy cheeks brush his chest, though she did not rest her weight on him. Instead, she spread her legs wide like a gymnast to bring herself closer to him, her strength and flexibility once again giving him pause. How she was able to hold that position so easily, he couldn’t imagine.

Those rosy, flushed lips were in full view now, at once familiar in their shape and alien in their scale. Murzka reached a hand down, parting them slowly with two fingers, exposing the delicate folds and creases of her anatomy. Like her fur, her silken flesh was misted with droplets of moisture, just like the fresh rain dripping from the fern fronds at the mouth of their tent.

“Apply what I have taught you,” she said, the rise and fall of her chest hastening with anticipation. “Kiss me.”

His mouth already watering at the prospect, Cal let his cheek slide against her inner thigh, the inescapable humidity making it wet and slick. She shivered as he mouthed at her velvet fur, gradually climbing higher. Unable to resist, he let his hand roam up her leg in kind, finding more rubbery muscle beneath an inviting layer of fat. Murzka was lean and slim, but just like her breasts, her stature was deceptive. What to her would be low body fat was still a good inch of pillowy flesh to him – enough to let his fingertips sink up to the first joint.

Her strength was palpable – the wiry muscles and sinew beneath her coat wound up like bundles of steel cable, flexing as they held her aloft. Cal had seen these same legs propel her four-hundred-pound frame up a tree as though she weighed no more than a squirrel, and having them wrapped around his head was a little intimidating, but Murzka’s poise was unparalleled. He got the sense that she could have balanced a stack of books on her head throughout their encounter without so much as a wobble if she had so desired.

After planting a few lingering kisses on her belly, he finally brought his lips to hers. Murzka tensed up again as she felt the flat of his tongue slide across the pleats of her vulva, Cal starting to paint her slowly – dotingly, reveling in her strong reaction. It had been a long time since he’d found himself in a similar position, and he was certainly out of practice, but the way that her breath hitched when he glanced her swollen clitoris encouraged him. Maybe it was something to do with the lack of barbs that she had mentioned.

“Gosh, Cal,” Poppy giggled as she shuffled a little closer to get a better view. “Don’t fill up before breakfast.”

Surrounded by Murzka’s velvet fur, all Cal could think about was pleasing her, dragging his tongue between her labia as he attempted to coat every inch of her loins. He circled her twitching opening, crawling his lips across her vulva and drawing shapes on her fever-hot flesh like he was writing a treatise to his desire. With every breath, her perfumed scent filled his head, chased by something deeper and more carnal.

“How foolish of me to think of these rumors as mere exaggerations,” Murzka sighed, her long spine curving beautifully as he pursed his lips around her bud and let it throb against his tongue. She was swollen – aching, her fluids dripping from his chin. “To think that such a small tongue could have me so ... so...”

She trailed off into an enamored sigh, her long lashes fluttering as he teased her with a flurry of licks. Cal watched her six-pack grow firmer and more prominent as the pulse of pleasure wracked her, only inches above his nose now. What had gotten into him? He had wanted to please her – yes, but something about her floral scent was addling his brain. Had he ever been this aroused before? Had his blood ever rushed in his ears like this, and had his cock ever throbbed such that it was almost uncomfortable? He couldn’t recall. All he knew was that he had to have more – he wanted to bury his face between her legs until he drowned.

Reaching up to wrap his arms around her thighs as far as they could reach, he pulled himself closer, redoubling his efforts. He traced every fold, mapping out her anatomy, the way that his tongue glided on a blend of his saliva and her dripping lust only driving him on. If her fur was velvet, then this sensitive flesh was the most luxuriant satin, soaking wet and almost hot enough to burn. Strands of her juices were linking his cheeks to her thighs – joining their lips in ropes, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t been truly dry from the moment he’d set foot in this jungle.

Murzka’s hand came down to cradle his head, her emerald eyes peering at him from on high, her shining lips pulling back to expose her sharp teeth in a grimace of pleasure. He could sense the restraint in her – how her muscles were held taut like an elastic band waiting to snap back. Were he a fellow Araxie, perhaps she might have let her weight fall on him, pinning him to the ground and riding his face until she was thoroughly satiated. She kept her word, though – ever gentle.

“Are you sure you’re the one teaching him, Murzka?” Poppy asked as she lay beside Cal.

“He certainly shows ... vigor,” the Araxie muttered, slowly rocking her hips now. Cal felt her heavy tail flop down onto his belly, the appendage curling around his shaft, surprisingly sinewy and strong. She used it as a fifth limb, after all, helping her grip the branches of trees. It was prehensile, that wet, slippery fur wrapping around his member like the coils of a fuzzy snake.

She squeezed, applying just a little pressure, and the relief of that alone was enough to make him groan into her loins.

“Do it again,” Poppy said excitedly. “He likes that...”

Murzka’s tail tightened once more, that damp velvet fur encompassing his length, the minute control that she exerted over it no less fine than that of her hands. She gave him a slow stroke – not enough to satisfy him, but enough to keep him eager. It was all that he could do to prevent himself from bucking off the tarp in frustration.

He showed his appreciation by pressing a finger against her opening, feeling twitching muscle greet him. If Murzka had been surprised by his size, he was surprised by her tightness in turn, her hot flesh clamping down on his digit as it slid inside her. Had she not been so aroused, it might not have been possible at all, her pelvic floor almost stopping him dead with a crushing throb. It seemed that her impressive muscle tone extended deeper.

Keeping up his licking, he began to move his digit, stroking the subtle textures of her innermost walls. She reacted just as strongly as she had to his tongue, her narrow passage fighting him for space, every twitch and throb making her burning flesh seal around him like liquid muscle filling a mold. She was so damned strong, like she was trying to pull his finger off at the knuckle.

“The Rask use clawless as an insult,” Murzka stammered, pushing down on his digit in a bid to take it deeper. “What a narrow view...”

Increasing his pace, Cal held onto her thigh with his free arm, focusing his attentions on her engorged bud as he thrust his digit. He could feel her juices seeping out around his hand, dripping down his wrist, the sucking motion of her muscular depths making his head spin. How might those same contractions feel with those slippery, cushiony walls wrapped around his shaft?

“Enough,” Murzka suddenly stammered, rising away from him. His lips left her loins, remaining joined by a sagging web of fluid that broke to drape itself over his bare chest, Cal having to fight against her grip to withdraw his hand.

“Sorry,” he began hurriedly, his mind still foggy with arousal. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Quite the contrary,” she replied with an unsteady smile. “I do not wish to end things so quickly. It seems that you are full of hidden talents, Conservationist Briggs. If only you knew how alluring that is to an Araxie.”

“I can guess,” he replied, wiping some of her excitement from his lips with the back of his hand.

“Your scent grows stronger, Poppy,” Murzka added as she turned to glance down at their audience. “It is overpowering even our own.”

“S-sorry,” she giggled, the Araxie’s words seeming to snap her out of her stupor. “We Jarilans produce pheromones when we get emotional. My current emotion is ... uh... excitement.”

“Your scent is not unlike that of Briggs,” Murzka mused.

“I’m part human, so the pheromones that I produce are part human too,” she explained.

Even through his haze, her words sparked a memory, Cal recalling their conversation about stress hormones after the ambush.

“Wait, you said that humans can pick those up too?” Cal asked as he struggled to clear his mind.

“Mhmm,” she replied with a nod that made her antennae bob.

“No wonder I feel so fucking weird,” he said with a drunken chuckle. “I thought I was going crazy – I must be picking up on your scent.”

“It makes you feel crazy?” Murzka asked with a tilt of her head.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Cal began, peering up at her. “You’re ... amazing, but I’ve never felt this switched on. Just being close to you makes me wanna ... it’s beyond attraction. Limited effect, my ass – I feel high.”

“You’re feeling some of my emotions,” Poppy explained, the concept seeming to enamor her. “The pheromones that I produce are strong enough to influence humans – enhance your sensations.”

“And this tent is basically a hot box,” Cal sighed. “You can sense my emotions, too?”

Poppy hesitated, wringing her lower hands for a moment, then she leaned a little closer to him. She let her two forward-facing antennae fall to Cal’s chest, draping them over his torso, the sheen of his sweat gluing those feathery vanes to his skin. The Worker’s lids drooped, her blue eyes losing their focus as the unmistakable expression of lust crossed her plates.

“Fuck, Cal,” she mumbled as she rode the waves of his second-hand emotions. She looked like she might as well have just licked a tab of LSD, the chemical signals in his sweat soaking into her sensitive antennae. “I’ve never felt someone ... feel so good.”

Only now did Murzka’s tail uncoil from Cal’s aching shaft, the Araxie starting to crawl lower on all fours, her head passing his navel. Immediately, his heart started to race again, memories of her impossibly long tongue flashing through his mind. Poppy picked up on his flood of hormones – or maybe it was his racing heart, lifting her antennae away as she watched Murzka poise over Cal’s member.

A feline hand formed a fist around Cal’s shaft, his cock throbbing against her palm, her fur so exquisite that it felt like a velvet glove. Just like she had done with her tail, she began to pump slowly, her grip loose enough to keep him wanting more. He felt as though he could embrace this hazy, lustful state of consciousness now that he knew where it was coming from, letting Poppy’s pheromones wash over him in intoxicating surges. It was adorable in a way – feeling a little of what she felt, the diminutive Jarilan just as enraptured by the encounter as he was.