Alt & Suraia
I've been working on this one for a while, and I'm fairly sure it ended up being the longest story I've written by quite a way. Enjoy!
The cream-furred fennec lay sleeping on the bed, his chest rising and falling with his breathing, his naked body rocking gently from side-to-side with the rolling motion of the wooden ship as it cut through the ocean. Suraia watched from the doorway, drinking in the scene with a smile on his face. Suraia liked watching the captain sleep, enjoying the serenity of the scene as much as the sexual thrill he gained from seeing the fennec's naked body.
Suraia was naked too, his brown-and-grey-mottled fur matted from the orgy below. He was a fox too, though his heritage was more mixed than the thoroughbred captain. The majority of his ancestry was comprised of Tibetan sand foxes, which was what gave him his striking fur colouring, but generations of interbreeding had caused his family to lose the large, square jaw and angular features that made that species so distinct. He always described himself as a "fox mutt" just to make things easier.
He was pulled from his reticence by the feeling of firm paws on his asscheeks, and moments later the warm feeling of a tongue pressing under his tail. The ship's cook, a burley grey wolf, had apparently noticed his absence from the writhing bodies below and come topside to prod him along and make sure that he hadn't gotten stuck. Suraia couldn't help but instinctively push back against the probing tongue, letting out a gasp, and the red tip of a vulpine cock began to push free of his sheath in an obvious display of enjoyment.
He allowed himself to enjoy the wolf's tongue lapping and circling slowly around his hole for a few seconds before he pulled away and gestured for the large wolf to stand. The cook was tall, having almost a foot over Suraia, and his bare chest showed a hint of muscle definition beneath his soft fur. Suraia admired the view for a moment, helped himself to a long, gratuitous grope of the other male's plump grey sheath, and following a spark of exhibitionism he led the wolf into the dead centre of the deck, where they'd be most visible.
They passed a line of coyotes on the starboard side of the ship engaged in a pissing contest over the wooden railing and into the ocean below, something that Suraia had to admit he was interested in but had never actually gone as far as to indulge. Finally he settled on a fine wooden grate in the centre of the deck from which the faint moans of the partygoers below could be heard.
Once in position, Suraia pushed the cook down onto his back and sank to his knees between the wolf's legs, the wooden boards beneath him hot from the blazing sun above. Suraia pressed his nose under the wolf's balls and nuzzled into them, watching with a grin as the heavy orbs draped over the bridge of his nose and stimulation caused the canine's sheath to swell. When half of the thick cock had pushed free of its owner's sheath, Suraia moved his muzzle upwards, lapping his tongue firmly over the flesh until it stood hard, pointing up at the blue sky above them.
The careful show of bringing his partner to arousal had served its purpose, and a small group now surrounded the pair. With a crowd drawn, Suraia made a show of taking the cook's dick in his paw and giving his knot a firm kiss from underneath, the action having the desired effect of causing the wolf to squirm happily against the wooden planks, knot pulsing. Suraia rose upwards, straddling the cook, and teased the wolf's pre-slick tip under his tail, grinding back against it until he couldn't resist pushing the weight of his body down, the thick, throbbing meat invading his hole and pushing deep into him. Much to the general surprise of the crowd, in spite of the cook's above-average girth he quickly began to ride, pushing himself up before sitting down on the cock, his hole resting against the engorged knot at its base.
The alarm began to sound, just at the edge of Suraia's hearing. The modern, electronic wailing completely unfitting to this ship with its naked, sex-hungry crew in the golden age of pirates.
Suraia ignored it, pushing more firmly down against the other male's knot, determined to feel it filling him out before he came to climax. He stretched almost painfully, but he knew he could do it, knew how good it would feel to have the bulbous, sensitive flesh inside him as they came together. As the alarm grew louder, he took one larger motion upwards, pushing himself down against the orange-sized knot-
Suddenly, the wolf, the onlookers and the ship itself dissolved, and with no partner below him, Suraia fell backwards onto the cold metal floor of his quarters, his cock aching for release despite the moment being well and truly over.
"ALTAIR!" He screamed into the air, "you cretinous fucking AI, you couldn't at least let me finish?"
The voice of the ship's voice surrounded him, seeming to come from everywhere at once. "No, Suraia. The alarm is used to signify something bad. Something bad is happening. Your sole responsibility on this ship is proving a rapid response. That does not involve waiting a few minutes extra to take a knot."
Suraia swore again and got to his feet, his erection subsiding and slowly shrinking back into his sheath, leaving a trail of clear pre clinging to his thigh. He took a deep breath to calm down, fighting back against the base frustration of his ruined orgasm. "So where's the problem?"
"Near my AI core, I'm concerned to report. Some kind of impact."
Suraia marched out of his quarters, still nude.
"Shouldn't you put on your uniform first?" Altair called after in his melodically synthesized voice.
His protests were met with a dismissive wave of Suraia's paw. "I'm the only damn person awake. Besides, rapid response and all that."
Suraia was a caretaker, of sorts. The ship of which he was a crewmember - a starship, rather than the quaint wooden fantasy he'd been immersed in - was roughly the size of a major city back on Earth, and carried the best part of a million people packed together in cryogenic sleep. While the ship's AI could handle the day-to-day running of the ship by itself, protocol required a single person to serve as active crew as the first line of defence against the unforeseen.
Sure, in the event of a disaster they could wake the frozen bodies. Even the debilitating effects of cryo-sickness could be bypassed, albeit dangerously, with a large cocktail of stimulants. But the process would still take some time, and even the best drills back on Earth saw the elitely trained members of the crisis team taking over an hour to emerge from sleep and deal with a problem.
To counteract the loneliness of being the only conscious member of the crew, the caretaker on duty was provided with two different approved "social substitutes" to tide them over until the end of their shift. The first, which most people chose, was a kind of interfaced chat with friends and family back home, neural implants distorting the caretaker's perception of time to reduce the incredible time lag such distance usually imposed on communications. Suraia had nobody he was particularly close to back home, and so he spent almost all his free time in the section option - simulation.
A wide range of simulations were available through the standard, space-faring neural implants which created a fully immersive environment indistinguishable from the real world. Through a degree of neurological trickery one was allowed to see an environment as if it were real, the implants even firing off sensations that felt like touch, making the simulated world indistinguishable from the real. The pirate ship was the one Suraia enjoyed most. Below decks was a sexual free-for-all with dozens of characters, some pre-programmed, most randomly generated each time by the software to keep things fresh, and he was free to wander the ship at will, doing whatever and whomever.
Different areas catered to different fantasies, allowing the player to indulge fetishes and scenarios at their leisure. The sleeping fennec, the captain of the ship, was another such fantasy, designed to break from the sexual free-for-all downstairs by offering the chance to seduce the leader of it all. Suraia had never actually gone that far, however.
Sexual activity wasn't taboo in Suraia's society, least of all when it served an arguably medical purpose such as combating space sickness, but Suraia would probably the first to describe himself as a pervert. Some people watched sports, some people painted, some people collected baseball cards. Everyone has a hobby, and Suraia's just happened to be sex.
He walked down the metal corridors of the engineering deck, following the painted green line that led the way to the AI core, trailing his left paw casually along the wall. "Any idea what's happening yet?" he yelled.
Altair's projection materialised next to him, immediately keeping pace with the fox. As the ship's AI Altair could theoretically project as any form he chose, but the form he usually took as one similar to a massive black tiger, his black-on-black stripes only visible through subtle changes in light when viewed at the right angle. He dressed in the ship's uniform, a tight-fitting, angular thing that was apparently supposed to invoke a sense of professionalism but that Suraia found stuffy and uncomfortable.
"I believe there's a fire," the tiger began, "a number of my systems have already been compromised, and I fear we'll begin to lose redundancy as well if you don't pick up the pace. And I do wish you'd put some clothes on, I'd hate to see your fur set alight."
Suraia grunted dismissively, but picked up the pace nonetheless. There was something in the tone of Altair's voice that concerned him, almost panic. The AI annoyed him, sure, but he was a sentient entity and Suraia wasn't about to let him come to harm.
It wasn't long before they arrived at the AI core. He placed his palm against the lock to gain access, the door slid to one side and a wave of warm, heavy air washed over him as he and the AI's projection stepped inside.
This was a section of the ship that most people would never see, and its decor was functional as opposed to the clean, minimalist whites and greys of the rest of the vessel. The AI core was a maze of computer banks and wiring, and large pipes criss-crossed the room, protecting the more delicate wires and machinery from accidental damage. Suraia scanned the room and quickly located the problem. The room was located next to the outer hull of the ship to facilitate cooling, and something had clearly struck the outside wall with great enough force to dent all the way through the outer hull and into the room's inner wall. There was no breach, thank God, but several banks of mainframes had been knocked from their positions and there was a faint smell of burning in the air.
When he noticed the source of the smell, it was already too late. He had barely a moment to react, instinctively dropping to the floor and rolling his vulnerable nude form under some large pipes. Barely seconds later, his vision was filled with a blinding light as the bank of hardware next to the dent exploded, showering the room with shrapnel. The lights flickered out a moment later and Suraia was plunged into claustrophobic darkness.
He waited just long enough to be confident that there'd be no secondary explosions, climbed to his feet, brushed imaginary dirt from his bare fur, and scanned the room for Altair. This proved impossible in the darkness, and Suraia began to wish that Altair had adopted a more flamboyant persona like most of the other ships' AIs. The ships could, in theory, take whatever shape they liked, so most tended to overdesign their avatars to help ensure that they stood out from the regular crew. Neon stripes and and glowing flesh weren't unheard of, and Altair was almost unique among his peers for taking the restrained approach.
He called into the darkness, an edge of triumph in his voice. "Ha! I'm fine. Told you my fur wasn't going to catch on fire, Alt."
He lifted his arms and twirled around to flaunt his nudity, just to drive his point home. When this elicited only silence, he began to notice something was amiss. If there was one thing he'd always been able to do, it was bait the computer into admonishing him in one form or another, but here he was openly mocking him with flawed logic and Altair had said exactly nothing. Despite the darkness, there was no reason why Altair couldn't see him clearly through his many sensors, unless...
"Altair?" he called into the core. No reply. He paused for a moment, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he noticed the faint red glow emitting from the AI core. He'd written it off at first as a kind of emergency backup lighting, but on closer inspection it was from an old readout panel, a crude system of labelled LEDs designed only to come on in the case of a seriously catastrophic problem. Suraia swore. Altair was gone.
"Where am I?"
Altair immediately noticed something wrong with his voice. It was softly spoken and much higher in pitch than he was used to. Then there was the odd, cushy feeling behind his head. He opened his eyes, and a cold metal ceiling snapped into focus. He tried to look down, but the room was dark, and someone had covered his body with a sheet. He tried to route his consciousness through the ship proper, and found that someone had disabled the sensors in Suraia's bunk, which he deduced must be his current location.
"Don't panic," came Suraia's voice from next to him, deliberately calm and soothing. Altair felt a paw on his chest, though even this felt slightly off in a way that he couldn't pin down. He turned his head, to see the fox sat next to him, wearing his angular uniform and smiling softly down at him. This action, clearly intended to put him at ease, produced exactly the opposite of the intended effect. Suraia never spoke like this. For brash, perverted Suraia to coo over him like a nanny must mean...
"There was an accident in the core. The section controlling your system was badly damaged." Suraia began, as though reading from a list. He'd obviously been rehearsing what he needed to say. "I needed you back online so I patched your avatar with the only other simulation still running in the system."
Oh GOD no.
Altair sat up, pushing Suraia's paw from his chest and throwing the sheet covering him to one side. He was wearing his uniform, thank god, but everything else had changed. His body was much more slender than it had been, his fur was now a light shade of cream, and he was sure he was shorter now. He moved his head, and the wind rushing past his ears made them feel almost comically large. A realisation set in, and Altair swore for the first time in his life.
"You turned me into the captain from your fucking sex game?"
"I needed you back online and this was the fastest-"
"No." Altair interrupted, his face a mask of anger. "You just wanted one of your playthings running around. Or to humiliate me, you goddamn pervert."
"You're one to talk, for a famously chaste ship your avatar sure did have a gigantic-"
"You UNDRESSED me?"
"No, I had to piece your raw data back together piece-by-digital-piece. So yes, actually, in a sense, but Jesus Christ, Altair, would you rather have died?" He didn't wait for an answer before powering on, "Your main core will fix your avatar and patch your program given time. But it won't be able to do any of that if we fly into a fucking star."
Altair's expression fell. In a fraction of a second, he queried the ship's sensors, which confirmed what Suraia was saying. Somehow, the navigation systems had been scrambled, and a nearby star they were going to have used as a gravitational slingshot was now marked as their destination. In a little over two hours, the ship would attempt a landing. Of course, it would never get that far. They had maybe an hour before the temperature became too great for Suraia, another thirty minutes until his own circuits were irreparably fried, and shortly after that the hull would fail.
The navigation system ran on its own subroutine, and Altair found that he no longer had control over it. Despite this, he attempted to force his way in, with no luck.
"What happened?"
"The ship's guns waited too long to take out that rock and it split clean in two. The larger piece hit the AI core on D Deck, the smaller piece cracked through the hull all the way up on Y."
"So we need to go to Y Deck?"
"There's the fun part. Now that we're heading straight for the fucking sun the ship is devoting all its power to staying cool. It's shut off everything non-essential, which includes the lifts. I was hoping you'd be able to help."
"I can't." Altair closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, his calm demeanor returning. "My control over the ship is heavily damaged. 35.4% of my systems are unresponsive to me. These include-"
"I get it." Suraia cut in, an edge of irritation in his voice. "We're fucked, technically speaking."
Suraia stood, reaching for the zipper on the front of his uniform and pulling it down to an audible sigh from Altair. He threw the shirt back onto the chair where he'd been sitting, and unzipped his fly, his sheath flopping neatly into the open as soon as he dark trousers were removed. Altair looked him over, and then pointedly averted his gaze. "I see your bedside manner didn't extend to wearing shoes or underwear."
The naked fox grinned, adopting an exaggerated wide stance, flourishing an arm down over his body and then to the pile of clothing. "You know it, we've got twenty floors of elevator shaft to climb and there's no way I'm doing it in those things."
The ship's elevator's were huge things capable of taking dozens of crewmembers and cryogenics booths at once, so the climb was like spelunking in a large metal cave.
They'd climbed twelve floors, and sweat was beginning to stream down Altair's face, forcing him to pause for a moment, taking a paw from the grooved metal ladder and wiping his brow. He wasn't capable of becoming physically tired, but the elevator shaft had no cooling of its own and the heat was unbearable. Altair had been given the ability to feel heat in much the same was as the organic members of the crew. Normally he could have turned these parts of his simulation off, but that particular subroutine seemed to have been one of the ones damaged. The sweat was already beading on his forehead again and threatening to run into his eyes. It was unbearably hot.
Suraia noticed the avatar slow down, and called up to hurry, his own grip clumsy with sweat. Altair had insisted that he go first in an attempt to avoid a twenty floor view of Suraia's tail as they climbed, but the heat was getting to him more than he wanted to admit. Altair looked upwards. Ten meters above them was a small service alcove, and he gestured towards it. With rest in sight, a burst of energy carried him the remaining distance, and he stepped from the ladder into the shadows.
"We don't have time to rest, Alt. Did you forget that I'm on a shorter timer than you here?"
"Too hot." Altair panted as he leaned forward against the wall, the back of his simulated uniform damp with simulated sweat. He removed a paw from the wall, leaving a damp pawprint which lasted for a few seconds before evaporating.
Suraia watched him and sighed. "Does it annoy you that the part of your program that leaves perfect, sweaty pawprints still works while the part that links you with NavOps got trashed? Because I'm pissed at that."
Altair looked back at Suraia, gritting his teeth slightly at the remark, but was instantly disarmed by what he saw. Suraia was smiling. Could the mutt actually be trying to cheer him up?
"By my count we've still got another nine floors to go. You'll feel better if you lose the uniform."
"Perver-"
Suraia sighed. "Don't flatter yourself, do you think I walk around naked all the time just to annoy you? There are parts of this ship that are hot, even without an impending fiery death. Are you telling me that your temperature algorithm doesn't account for your simulated clothing?"
Altair shook his head, and after a moment's hesitation the stuffy uniform dematerialised around him, exposing the fennec's soft fur which sprang out slightly when released from the fabric. The AI sighed, a cool breeze flowing from a nearby vent much more noticeable against his bare fur. A minute later he felt able to move again, and climbed to his feet. With one hand and one foot on the rung of the ladder, he looked back towards Suraia, who was still sitting against the wall.
"Time to go, Suraia." The fox grunted a vague reply that he couldn't make out. "What?"
"Don't be mad." The reply was unusually meek, and as Suraia climbed to his feet Altair had to bite back his irritation. Clearly visible in the darkness, solid pink against his sand-brown fur, stood Suraia's emerging cock, clearly just a semi but firm enough to be standing free of his sheath. He met Altair's glare. "I can't help it. You've seen my cock before, Altair, just keep moving."
Altair let go of the rung and took an emphasised step backwards. "Fine, but this time you're going first. I'm not having you eye me up while I'm trying to climb."
After another ten minutes of awkward, silent climbing they reached their floor. The door was powered off and shut, but Altair was able to pry open the doors with his bare hands, his simulation thankfully affording greater strength than his build would normally allow. The two spilled into the corridor beyond, naked and drenched in sweat. The air wasn't any cooler here, but at least it felt fresh compared to the shaft.
A large yellow line on the wall with the words "NAVIGATIONAL OPERATIONS" printed periodically above it pointed the way to their destination, and wordlessly they began to follow. It was Suraia who finally broke the silence.
"Look, I'm sorry about what happened back there. I swear I was only trying to help. That damn fennec just gets me every time." The words came out through a grimace, apologies of any kind didn't come easy to him.
"It's fine, really." Altair sighed, and did a small twirl on his feet to show off his body. "I'd have thought you'd have grown bored of this one by now, given how often you run the pirate scenario." He'd been trying to tease Suraia, but from the way the fox avoided his gaze he realised he'd struck a nerve, and the two walked in hurried silence for another two corridors until they reached the door of NavOps.
Suraia reached up his paw and pressed it against the panel next to the door. It beeped, and a previously invisible screen shone to life above.
BREACH DETECTED.
And then, in smaller text underneath:
BREACH CONTAINED, BUT AREA MAY BE HAZARDOUS.
ENTER?
[YES] [NO]
With an annoyed grunt, Suraia hammed his finger against the [YES] button five times until the door eventually relented and opened, and they stepped inside to a scene of complete devastation. The meteor had crashed through the hull and taken out half a bank of monitors, and while the damage was nowhere near as extensive as that of the AI core, Suraia still doubted that it could be repaired. The walls were covered with integrity foam which had dried, making the entire room look like the inside of some awful, mechanical cocoon. The only lighting came from a series of red emergency lights embedded into the ceiling.
"We have fourteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds until the point of no return." Altair said, his voice faintly mechanical as he listed the precise time, "can you do anything, Suraia?"
"Sure." Suraia replied without missing a beat, full of feigned bravado. "Absolutely."
He sat down at the bench, the fake-leather cushion feeling cold against his bare ass. The monitor was unresponsive, so he attempted to type the commands by memory. Nothing. He tried again, just to be sure, but the screen remained dark.
"Altair, any luck on your end?" Suraia turned to face the fennec, who just shook his head, his large ears wafting comically from the motion.
To Suraia's left, a series of secondary monitors gave constant feeds of information that was useless to them at the moment. He slipped under the desk and tried briefly to rewire the damaged systems to those monitors, but he could tell by the lack of change in the light cast from the monitors that it hadn't worked. He growled quietly to himself in frustration, the realisation slowly dawning that he was out of ideas.
It was then that he noticed it. A small puncture in the underside of the desk, light an exit wound from a bullet. It was a long shot, but maybe it just punctured a cable? Maybe all it actually needed was something to bridge the connection? He slid out from underneath, and called to Altair.
"Hey Alt, can you pass me a screwdriver? There's always a set on the left side of the far computer bank. Any size will do." He heard the sound of Altair fumbling around, and moments later footsteps towards where he lay. He slid out from under the desk.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but given Altair's state of undress he should at least have been prepared for what he saw. In front of him was Altair, sat on his haunches, Suraia's eyeline perfectly level with a pair of large cream-furred balls, hanging low from the heat, and a sheath matted with sweat. He blinked, coughed needlessly to regain his composure, and took the screwdriver he was offered.
Back under the desk, he looked at the puncture again. Saying a small prayer to nobody in particular, he shoved the metal shaft of the screwdriver deep into the hole and hoped for a connection. When he felt it stick, he immediately withdrew his paw in time to see several bright flashes from within, accompanied by the sound of electrical cracking. There was a moment's silence. Nothing changed. He was just about to reach up to work the screwdriver free and try something less stupid and desperate when he heard Altair calling to him.
"I'm in! Suraia, I'm in! I don't know what you just did but I have access!" He sounded giddy almost to the point of hysterics.
As Suraia slid out from under the console, he saw Altair with his back turned, his lithe naked figure silhouetted against the bright monitors. He choked back the surge of lust, remembering the view he'd had moments before. The damn AI doesn't even need to look at the screens, he thought, he's just doing it for effect.
He took two steps towards the pensive figure, before Altair turned around, his eyes shining. "You did it!" Before Suraia knew what was happening, they were both cheering, they high-fived, and Altair pulled him into a bear hug. Altair's sheath, the sheath of the fennec captain, pressed against Suraia's, warm and firm against his body. Suraia bit his lip, enjoying every nanosecond of intimacy until Altair realised what he was doing and broke away timidly.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking-" Altair began, but Suraia dismissed him with a wave of his paw, praying that the low emergency lighting was enough to hide the visible swelling.
"Did we make it?" Suraia asked, changing the subject.
"We cut it close. The odds are about even, perhaps slightly in our favour. But they'd be zero if not for you."
"When will we know for sure?"
"I'll have a more accurate model prepared in around ten minutes."
With that, Suraia leaned against the wall and let himself slide down it to a sitting position. "Guess there's nothing left to do but wait." Altair strode up next to him and followed suit, joining him sat naked on the floor.
"Suraia, whatever I said earlier about this body, in the corridor-"
The fox shook his head and cut Altair off. "I've never slept with the Captain. I don't even know the character's name, I just watch him. I think I love him." He looked down at the floor, his eyes betraying a sense of shame and embarrassment that Altair wouldn't have thought he was even capable of.
"But Suraia, he's just a-"
"I know," came the firm reply, "it's not healthy. He's just a program, not self-aware like you, but I just see him sleeping there, so carefree, so self-assured that he can just lie back and sleep in spite of everything. He might be naked and completely vulnerable, but he still runs that fake ship, and I just..." He shook his head, and swore at himself for rambling. He looked up and grit his teeth as he realised the absurdity of spilling his guts to the ship's AI while it wore the fennec's body.
They both sat there, naked and illuminated by the red emergency lighting, waiting for the other to speak. Altair made the first move, edging towards Suraia and placing his right hand on the fox mutt's muzzle, lifting it up to meet his gaze. Their lips touched, and any trepidation Altair might have been feeling melted away instantly as Suraia's paws surrounded him, pulling them together.
As they kissed, Suraia slid his paw slowly down over Altair's chest, hesitating as he reached the bottom of the fennec's stomach and the soft belly fur began to turn to coarser public fluff. Altair, sensing his reticence, responded by resting his paw atop Suraia's and easing it down until Suraia's fingertips rested on the emerging tip of Altair's dick.
Altair gasped at the touch, his sheath giving a faint twitch against Suraia's fingers. The fennec's body may not have been his own, but the disguise gave him an odd confidence and a feeling of freedom. He broke the kiss, and buried his muzzle in the his partner's neck, nuzzling before whispering "So, do you want to top, or...?"
Suraia grinned, giving the fennec a faint peck on the cheek. "God, even now you're a nerd. Altair, there's a solid chance we're going to die, and I can't think of any better way to go than getting knotted by the entire god damn ship." He leant down, pressing his nose into the fennec's firm sheath, and gave it a lick across the tip. "Technically speaking, of course."
Even under the emergency lighting, as Suraia moved Altair could see that he was already hard, the fox mutt's large cock already fully released from its sheath and throbbing needily between his legs. Altair felt a small realisation dawn as he remembered pulling Suraia out of the pirate fantasy earlier. Had he really been this pent up all day?
He was pulled from his contemplation by the feeling of Suraia's warm muzzle dipping down over his sensitive flesh. The fennec captain's cock - his cock, at least for now - was fully hard, and Altair had the unique experience of seeing his own dick for the first time. The fennec was huge, a little over 10 inches in length with the hint of a knot inflating at his base that looked like it would grow to an absurd thickness.
In hindsight his exaggerated size made sense. The fennec was meant to be the final conquest of the pirate fantasy, so it stood to reason that he'd be built to provide a challenge in that area too. The surprise must have shown on his face, however, because when Suraia looked up at him - wanting to look him in the eyes as he trailed his tongue slowly up the underside of his shaft - he broke out in an involuntary grin.
Suraia kissed the tip of the fennec's cock, and pushed him gently backwards until he was lying on the metal floor of the NavOps room. Suraia straddled Altair, sitting on his legs so that their cocks touched, pressed flat against each other and pointing straight upwards at the ceiling, casting an obscene shadow over the floor. Suraia wasn't small by any standards, but even he stopped a good three inches before the fennec's own manhood. A thick drop of pre leaked from Altair's cock at the contact and rolled down his shaft.
Altair looked embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm always, uh, like this. Lots of pre, I mean." Suraia made a shushing noise, his paw still moving over their dicks, making sure his to keep his palm flat against Altair's shaft to smear the pre along his length. Suraia lifted himself up, scooted forward and angled Altair's cock to point underneath his tail.
Pushing backwards, Suraia felt the warmth of Altair's tip pressing against his hole, followed almost immediately by the feeling of being stretched as the fennec's thick shaft slid into him. Despite the fennec's size, Suraia didn't have difficulty sliding backwards until he felt the bump of Altair's emerging knot pressing against his cheeks, Suraia's interrupted session with the simulation earlier in the day at least serving as a kind of preparation.
Altair groaned underneath, and Suraia felt him twitch deep inside. Taking it as his cue, Suraia began to rock slowly in the fennec's lap, working himself steadily against the knot, pushing back into the shaft and eliciting further moans from below him. Suraia placed his paws on Altair's, lifting them up and placing them on his bare hips. Altair paused for a moment before the message sunk in, and Suraia felt the fennec's claws sink slowly into the skin beneath his fur.
Altair began to thrust upwards into Suraia, arching his hips until the thickness of his knot prevented him from pushing further, which was met each time by Suraia himself trying to push back down further against the engorged flesh. With each motion, Suraia's dark-pink cock bounced between his legs, his enjoyment clearly showing in the streaks of pre flicked from his tip across Altair's cream fur in neat, radiating lines.
Rather than simply continue to watch the fox mutt's cock bouncing, Altair reached forwards and wrapped his fingers around the flesh, stroking over its length with his fingertips, feeling it pulse in delight, before wrapping his paw fully around the tip and slowly circling his fingers down to the hilt, smearing Suraia's pre as he went. He repeated the motion coming back up, but this time he lightly pinched the tip so that the pre clung to his fingers, then carefully licked them clean.
They both let out moans, Altair from the taste and Suraia from the view of the fennec happily cleaning his fingers of pre. Lost in the moment, Altair mistimed his thrust, meeting Suraia on the way down. There was a momentary feeling of intense tightness, and Suraia let out a single guttural pant as Altair's knot slipped into him.
The feeling of Suraia slipping down over his knot and instantly tightening behind it, the sound of his panting and the sight of the needy fox straddling, it was all too much for Altair. His orgasm built from almost nowhere, climbing too fast to stop, and despite his best efforts to hold back, a slight gyration of Suraia's hips was all it took to push him over the edge proper. He throbbed inside Suraia, his knot flaring and stretching the mutt even further, and his cock twitched and throbbed as he shot thick, heavy loads deep inside his partner.
Feeling Altair climax beneath him, Suraia wasted no time moving his right paw to his cock, his fingers blurring even before Altair had finished cumming. Without thinking, Altair reached forward, gripping behind Suraia's knot as the mutt came to climax. With a surprised yip, Suraia came, his frustrated, pent-up load shooting from his tip with full force, the first shot flying far enough to hit that useless secondary monitor above Altair's head. Suraia quickly realised what was happening, angling his cock downwards in time to make a large, sticky pool in the centre of Altair's chest.
The two stayed there, panting, sticky and bathed in red light until the afterglow began to fade. Still tied, and too tender to risk pulling out, Suraia leant down and kissed Altair's nose with a kind of affection of which Altair hadn't thought him capable.
"Go on then," he whispered, "give me the bad news."
"The knot? Given this body's use as a pleasure sim, I'd guess you'll be tied for-"
"The sun, Altair. Impending death and all that. It's hot as balls in here." Suraia sat upwards - trying not to think of the huge fennec cock moving and twitching and moving his insides as he adjusted - and forced a grin, sweat dripping from his brow onto the fennec's chest.
Altair blinked for a moment, and queried his navigation banks, and just to be sure, he checked them again. His self-repair systems had kicked in, and he found more of the ship available to him with each passing moment. He smiled. "We're safe, Suraia. We've been in a safe trajectory away from the sun for the last fifteen minutes. The air conditioning is damaged in this room and we definitely didn't help matters."
Suraia leaned down and kissed Altair again, half from passion and half from relief. "God, you're such a nerd."
Altair leaned his head back against the floor, enjoying the relative coldness of it, feeling his spent dick begin to soften slightly inside Suraia. "I might be a nerd, but you yipped, Suraia."
"No."
"I heard it, it was adorable."
Within a week of ship time, the self-repair systems had taken care of the damage, and no evidence remained that the entire incident had ever taken place save for a long, overly technical disaster report that Suraia was mandated to produce.
"I hope that report isn't going to be too thorough, Suraia."
Suraia learnt his head back to see Altair standing over him. His body had been restored to that of the large, black-on-black tiger, though he'd taken to occasionally surprising Suraia by taking the form of the Captain again. Suraia briefly wondered if Altair could run both avatars at once, and instinctively crossed his legs as his sheath began to swell again.
Smiling, Altair leant down and kissed the fox mutt on the cheek.