Intersteller Cohabitation for Dummies
Copyright© 2025 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 3: Pressure Points
By week two, Marcus had settled into what he considered a completely normal routine with his completely normal roommate.
Mornings: Wake up to Vera making breakfast in his shirt. Try not to notice how the shirt rode up or slipped off her shoulders. Fail at not noticing. Drink coffee and pretend everything was fine.
Afternoons: Work from home while Vera explored the city or read Earth books, occasionally sending him pictures of things she found interesting. (Mostly shiny objects. She really liked shiny objects.)
Evenings: Dinner together, TV on the couch, her in her nest, him providing what had become routine tail-petting and ear-scratching services.
It was domestic. Comfortable. Friendly.
His collection of gifts from her now took up an entire shelf: stones, feathers, bottle caps, a few interesting leaves, what appeared to be a lost earring, and a small gear from something.
“Like a magpie,” his coworker Sarah had said when he’d mentioned it during a video meeting. “Or a crow. They collect shiny things for people they like.”
“It’s a vulpine cultural thing,” Marcus had explained.
“Uh-huh. And does this vulpine cultural thing also involve her wearing your clothes?”
“How did you—”
“She walked past your camera earlier. In what was definitely your button-down shirt and nothing else visible.”
“She likes the— it’s comfort— it’s CULTURAL, Sarah.”
“Sure, Marcus. Cultural. Hey, does your culture involve that hickey on your neck?”
Marcus’s hand had flown to his neck. “That’s not a hickey! I must have ... bumped into something.”
“Right. You bumped into your roommate’s mouth. Accidentally.”
“We didn’t—! That was— she kissed my CHEEK. Days ago. That’s not even the same side—”
Sarah had just smiled knowingly and changed the subject.
But Marcus had checked his neck in the mirror afterward. There was a small mark. From when Vera had nuzzled against him during movie night and he’d thought she’d just fallen asleep...
Completely platonic nuzzling.
Obviously.
Wednesday afternoon, Vera emerged from her room wearing workout clothes. Tight leggings and a sports bra that Marcus’s brain refused to properly process.
“I’m going for a run!” she announced, ears perked, tail swishing. “Want to come?”
“Nah, I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes. Have fun!”
She’d returned an hour later, flushed and glowing, her tail slightly bedraggled from exertion.
“Good run?” Marcus asked from his laptop.
“Great!” She stretched, arms over her head, which did things to her silhouette that made Marcus very interested in his spreadsheet suddenly. “Though I think I overdid it. I’m so sore.”
She flopped down on her nest with a dramatic sigh.
Marcus finished typing an email, closed his laptop, and looked over. Vera was sprawled on her back, one arm over her eyes, her tail limp beside her.
“You okay?”
“Mmm. Just really sore. Especially my stomach.” She lifted her arm slightly to peer at him. “I think I did too many core exercises.”
“You need some water? Ibuprofen?”
“Maybe just...” She paused, ears flicking. “Would you mind ... I know this is weird, but could you rub my stomach? It helps with the muscle soreness.”
Marcus blinked. “Uh. Sure? If it helps?”
“It would help SO much.” She lifted the bottom of her sports bra slightly, exposing her toned midriff. “Just ... gentle pressure?”
This was fine. This was helping a roommate with muscle soreness. Completely normal. People did this for each other all the time.
Marcus sat on the floor next to her nest and placed his hand on her stomach.
Vera inhaled sharply.
“Sorry, are my hands cold?”
“No! No, they’re perfect. Please ... continue.”
He started rubbing in gentle circles, the way he vaguely remembered from that one massage class he’d taken. Her skin was warm, soft, and he could feel her breathing quicken slightly under his palm.
“Does this help?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Very much.”
His hand moved in slow circles, and then he felt something. Small bumps under his fingers. A line of them.
“Hey, what are these?” He paused. “Are you okay? These feel like—”
Vera’s ears shot straight up. “Those are normal! Completely normal for vulpines!”
“They feel kind of ... sensitive?” He gently pressed on one, circling it with his thumb. “Does this hurt?”
Vera made a sound that was half-gasp, half-squeak.
“Oh god, does it hurt? I’m sorry—”
“NO!” Her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, keeping his hand in place. “Not hurt. Definitely not hurt. Very ... very not hurt.”
“You sure?” He kept doing the gentle circular motion, concerned. “They seem really sensitive.”
“They’re ... they’re supposed to be sensitive,” Vera managed, her voice strained. “It’s ... it’s fine. It’s good. This is ... oh YES. Such a good mate—” She caught herself. “ROOM mate! Such a good roommate! Very thoughtful! So helpful!”
Marcus, completely missing the slip, continued the gentle massage. “If you’re sure. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Trust me,” Vera said, her eyes closed, ears flat against her head in what Marcus had learned meant she was very relaxed, “you are NOT hurting me.”
Her tail had wrapped around her own leg, the tip twitching slightly. Her breathing was coming in small, quick pants. A soft purring sound emanated from her chest.
“The purring means you’re feeling better, right?” Marcus asked, adding a bit more pressure to the circular motion.
“So. Much. Better.” Each word seemed to take effort.
“Cool. Here, let me try the other ones too—”
“NO!” Vera’s eyes flew open. “I mean ... maybe just this one is fine. For now. Don’t want to ... overstimulate ... the area.”
“Overstimulate?”
“Medical term. Very medical. Please continue exactly what you’re doing.”
So he did.
For five full minutes, Marcus gently massaged one of the small bumps on Vera’s stomach, completely oblivious to the fact that he was essentially caressing one of her eight teats while she experienced what could only be described as transcendent bliss.
He checked his phone with his other hand, scrolling through emails.
Vera stared at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe, her entire body thrumming with sensation, thinking: He’s touching my teat. He’s MASSAGING my teat. For FIVE MINUTES. While checking his EMAIL. This beautiful, oblivious, wonderful man is going to be the father of SO MANY of my kits.*
“There,” Marcus said finally, lifting his hand. “Does that feel better?”
Vera lay there, boneless, dazed, her tail limp, ears drooped, completely undone.
“ ... yes,” she whispered. “So much better.”
“Good! Let me know if you need me to do that again. Happy to help.”
“I will DEFINITELY let you know,” Vera said, her voice slightly hoarse.
Marcus stood, stretching. “I’m gonna grab a snack. You want anything?”
“Just ... water. Please.”
He headed to the kitchen, and Vera lay there in her nest, staring at the ceiling, one thought cycling through her head:
I’m going to marry him. I’m going to have his kits. Many, many kits. And he’s going to massage my teats and think he’s being HELPFUL and I am going to die happy.
Her heat was coming. She could feel it. The biological imperative was getting stronger every day. And if he kept being this accidentally perfect, this innocently intimate...
She needed a plan.
A better plan.
Because subtle clearly wasn’t working.
That evening, Vera’s phone rang with a video call. She glanced at the screen and her ears perked up immediately.
“Mom!” She answered, her face lighting up.
Marcus looked up from his laptop. On the screen, he could see an older vulpine woman with the same orange-red hair as Vera, though streaked with white, and kind golden eyes.
“Darling!” her mother said in that same melodic accent. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you! How is Earth? How is the program? And—” Her eyes shifted, spotting Marcus in the background. “Is that him?”
“Oh! Yes, Mom, that’s Marcus. Marcus, this is my mother, Kira.”
Marcus waved awkwardly. “Hi! Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Kira’s face split into a huge smile. “So this is your mate! Oh, he’s handsome! Very good choice, Vera!”
Marcus blinked. “My what?”
“Mom!” Vera’s ears flattened. “He’s my— we’re— it’s—”
“When is the bonding ceremony?” Kira continued, ignoring Vera’s distress. “Have you set a date? Oh, I’ll need to arrange travel, and we’ll want to invite the whole clan—”
“ROOMMATE!” Marcus said loudly. “I’m her roommate! For the program!”
Kira paused, then her expression shifted to something that looked almost ... pitying?
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