NCFS01 - A Touch of the Familiar
A Touch of the Familiar
NCFS - Non-Canonical Fragment Story (SFW)
It was the sound of rapid gunfire which gave atmosphere to the room - rapid gunfire and the flashes of light from the television screen which cast wild, stroboscopic shadows on the walls.
One shadow was of a larger figure - thin, lanky, and with the juvenile mane of a male leonine just entering the cusp of young adulthood - and the other was slightly smaller - a female's outline, with flowing hair, but no mane, and the prominent ears typical of her gender.
"C'mon!" came the voice of the male, hurried and insistent. "Shit!" He was stabbing viciously with clawed thumbs at the controller in his hands, the hellish scene from the television reflecting off his eyes in the darkness of the room.
"Ha!" came the voice of the female, smug and reassured. "Not so tough now, are ya?"
As the sound of gunfire was replaced by an announcement of, "Player One wins!" the male gave a final stab at his controller and dropped it to the floor in disgust. In the light from the television, his teeth gleamed as he clenched them together in a scowl. "Dammit!" he cursed.
"That's best of five," she said. "You aren't getting any better at this, Rick."
"Fuck off," Rick replied, irritatedly. "I haven't been playing it as long as you have."
He rose from where they were sitting, propped up against the foot of his bed, and scratched industriously at the fur on his chest. "Did you want a beer while I'm up, Kit?"
She kept her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her as she tapped out a complex series of button commands on her controller. "Only if it's free," she said, unconcernedly.
He sputtered a short, derisive, bilabial fricative before he stepped toward the door, the claws of his bare feet clicking lightly on the aged wood of the floor.
For Rick, spending his summers at the cottage his parents owned was one way to decompress from months and months of school and part-time work. Although, as he noted frequently, there was something lacking in a summer home where the temperature in the evenings was still easily a windless, sweltering thirty degrees Celsius. Fine if you were human, but murder if you had fur.
He plodded into the kitchen, rooted around in the refrigerator for a pair of long-necked bottles, and pinned them between his clawed fingers before making his way back toward the bedroom.
Kit was still there, seated exactly where she'd been before, with the now-stationary glow of the game console's menu interface reflecting off the twin hemispheres of her eyes.
He set one beer down on the nightstand next to the bed, and gave the other a careful twist before tossing the bottlecap into a nearby wastebasket. He stretched out on the bed on his front, and dangled the opened beer over the end to where Kit was sitting.
She spent a moment adjusting the strap on her tank top, and then reached up to take the bottle from his hand. "Thanks," she said, taking a swig of the beer and resting its base on the waistband of her shorts. "By the way, did you find out if the A.C. unit downstairs was still working?"
"Nah," Rick replied, stretching to reach the other beer from the nightstand and opening it before taking a long pull on it. "It must've died at the end of last summer." He crawled forward until his folded arms were resting on the bed's footboard, and he could see Kit as she sat in a folded slouch. "I might be able to get it fixed, or we can get another one from in town tomorrow."
She made a slight grunting noise of agreement, and put down her controller for a moment in order to pick his up from the floor and pass it up to him.
"Whattaya think?" she asked. "Blade Sprinters III? Or did you want to try playing Naked Aggression?"
"I'd kick your ass at Naked Aggression, you know," he said.
"You just want to play it because of the nudity," she asserted, between sips of her beer.
"I didn't buy it for the gameplay," he agreed. "But if I wanted tits, I'd just close the windows and turn off the fans," he explained. "You couldn't keep those clothes on forever."
"Fuck off," she said, deadpan. "I'd sooner go sleep outside, except for the bugs." She pointedly clutched the controller closer to her bosom, hiding the already faint view of her covered nipples from what he could see of her in the room's sharp lighting.
Tease, he thought. He and Kit had been friends for years, and although they talked about everything and felt as comfortable together as they could if they were both of the same gender, there was an unspoken agreement between them that they ought to at least keep from being gratuitously nude around each other.
There were times, however, that he found himself looking at her with more than just friendly interest. She had a slim, healthy body, with toned muscles under her pale, golden fur, a woman's hips beneath her waist, and perky breasts that she rarely kept concealed under a bra.
He'd caught her staring at him on occasion, perhaps with the same ideas. Usually it was when they were dressed for athletics or for jogging together, when he would strip down bare-chested and go about in only his shorts. She'd occasionally make some reference to how his ass looked, or what he was packing around to his front.
"Or we could just watch a movie," she suggested.
"Maybe," he agreed. "Let's see what's on AetherShow."
She let him scroll through a list of movies - some new, some ancient - before she piped up at Sleepless in Seattle. "Isn't that the one that all of my friends were saying we should watch?"
"Your friends," he explained, "have been thinking that we should be married and cranking out kids by now, we make such a cute couple."
"Gawd," she replied, lolling her head to one side so she could stare up at him. "Can you imagine me with a preg-o belly?"
He blinked at her with exaggerated slowness. "I can imagine you with an extra two cup sizes."
She snorted and turned away, gathering her feet under her. "Pig ..." she said. "Make some room up there - it's too hard on this floor and my ass is falling asleep."
"Too lazy ..." he murmured, in humor. He stabbed at the button to start the movie and laid the controller aside. He felt Kit's weight on the bed next to him, and the touch of one of her hands on the small of his back as she got comfortable.
As the movie's opening sequences started, he tilted his head in her direction. "While you're back there, can you give me a bit of a rubdown?"
"Hey!" she objected, in mock annoyance. "I'm a guest here, remember? I'm not trading favors for the privilege of staying here."
"C'mon, babe," he pleaded. "We jogged for an hour, and now you want me to lie here through this chick flick with a sore back?"
"What have I told you?" she said for answer, putting her hands partway into the bulk of his mane and onto the muscles of his shoulders. "Stop calling me 'babe' unless you want me to jam my fist into your asshole."
She began a slow, kneading motion that made him sink his head down into his folded arms and lose sight of the television screen altogether. "Mmm ..." he murmured. "Ohh ... that's the stuff."
"Shh," she commanded. "I'm watching this."
He fell silent and let her get on with the business of working some of the tension out of his muscles. At first, there was only the pleasant, skillful way in which she gripped his muscles and worked them in a way only she knew how to do. Before long, however, he could feel the soft flesh of her stomach pressed lightly against his side, and the slow, sensual rocking of her breasts against his back.
In seconds, he felt a growing erection pinned between himself and the bedclothes. He was thankful that she couldn't see it, but as was the case whenever he found himself with a stiff one around her, he was worried she might catch scent of it.
As the film progressed, he found himself wrestling with both the erection, and the sensations caused by being rocked back and forth across the bed by Kit's movements.
As she began to work the muscles of his lower back, she gently tugged the waist of his shorts down by a few inches, to expose the fur just above his tailbone and the very tops of his buttocks.
He was almost at the point of being lulled to sleep by the relaxation of her touch when he felt her shift her weight, and swing a soft-furred thigh over his rear, so that she was straddling the base of his spine with her knees apart. He was about to voice an objection - not that she was heavy, or that he was in pain - when he felt the stark warmth of her crotch against his body, which stopped his voice cold.
There'd been situations like this before, when they'd made unintended contact between themselves and had been able to laugh it off, or merely torture each other with it. Strangely, this felt different to him.
"Mmm ..." she remarked, as she started a slow, sensuous rocking motion which caused a kneading motion of his buttocks, but also began grinding her warmth against him. "How's that feel?"
He had to swallow twice in a suddenly dry throat before he could say anything. "It's ... uh, it's good, Kit. Really nice."
"I _thought_you'd like it," she remarked, in a low, sultry voice. The movements of her hands along his back were no longer so much massaging as caressing.
After a few minutes, in which Kit's slow oscillations did nothing to soothe his inflamed prick, she slid her palms slowly up his back, until she was laying on her stomach with her breasts pressed up against his shoulder blades.
He could tell from the light, slightly musky scent in the air that she was a little aroused, but she'd been that way before and never seemed self-conscious about it.
Her weight wasn't uncomfortable, however, and he was almost able to doze through the length of the movie as she watched, her cheek resting against his mane and one of her hands gently tousling it. Eventually, he felt his erection slowly recede, leaving him feeling almost normal again.
He must've dozed off, however, because he was suddenly startled by the sensation of her prodding him gently in the ribs with her fist. "Well, that was a bit of a waste," she said, gesturing with her other hand in the direction of the screen, where the movie's credits were slowly crawling from bottom to top.
She shifted slightly onto one knee and slid her weight off his back and onto the narrow confines of the bed - which was a standard double, but sized for humans and not built with anthro felines in mind. "I'm starting to fade here," she said. "Should we turn in?"
"Prob'ly," he mumbled, rolling over partway and setting his feet on the floor. "Window open?"
"Sure," she replied.
He slid the old, rough wooden-framed window up until a slight breeze came drifting in from outside. He then took a small block of wood that had been sitting on the windowsill and used it to prop the window open.
When he turned back, she was already sliding in-between the bedclothes and turning her back to him.
"Don't take _all_the room, huh?" he remarked.
She made a grumbling noise and shifted so that she was closer to the far side of the bed. "Weren't your folks going to get a queen-sized bed for this place?"
"Yep," he responded. "About the same time they replace the A.C. unit."
He eased himself onto the bed as well, stretching his body out behind hers and pulling the thin, sheet-like blanket up as far as his waist. "I've told them that they need to do some work on this place, y'know? In summer, it's hot as hell in the afternoons, cool in the evenings, and frigid at night."
"Beats being in the city," she countered, "with all the heat coming off the asphalt."
"Yeah," he agreed.
The two of them squirmed their way into more comfortable positions - her attempting to curl up into a fetal position and him attempting to bend his upper leg partway, all the while trying to keep his pelvis a respectful distance from hers.
After a long while, in which he closed his eyes and tried to relax, he felt her grab his free hand and tug on it, until his hand was resting on her the spot just above her hip, and her hand on top of it.
"Kit?" he asked.
"I find it relaxing," she murmured, tightening her grip on his hand.
"Mhmm," he temporized, unable to really understand what she was getting at. Her slender waist, the curve of her hip, and the fact that her tank top didn't reach down all the way, all made for an unsettling sensation that prickled from his chest down to his groin, and started the swelling in his prick again.
It was a long while before he eventually drifted off to sleep, aware of how Kit's hair looked in the dim light from the glow of the television screen - which was showing as dark a grey as it could manage, but still giving off faint illumination.
* * *
He gradually awoke from a pleasant dream to find that Kit had nestled closer to him, dragging his hand and arm around her bare stomach, and nestling her rump against his crotch.
In a sudden flush of arousal and embarrassment, he realized that his cocktip was by now absolutely free and clear of the waistband of his shorts, and making contact with the small of her back.
A strangled noise began at the back of his throat, as he tried to edge away from her body very, very slowly, but became aware that he was also precariously close to falling off his side of the bed and onto the floor.
"Mmmmm ..." came Kit's faint voice. He wasn't sure if she was asleep, or merely drowsy. "Little Rick seems happy to see me ..."
There was nothing after that except silence, and he spent uncomfortable minutes willing himself to relax without success. Eventually, despite the tension in his gut and the almost painful constriction of his shorts against his erection, he fell asleep again.
When he next awoke, there was daylight streaming through the window onto the wall opposite, and he could feel Kit's hair lightly tickling his nose as she drowsed next to him. She was turned-over from where she'd started that night, now face-to-face to him, but nestled under his chin and with an arm wrapped around to his back. He, in turn, had an arm around her, draped casually over her hip to where his hand was lightly gripping one of her buttocks.
As casually as he could fake such a thing, he inhaled a long, yawning breath and started to stretch, snatching his hand away from her ass and pretending to stretch that arm somewhere behind him.
She stirred, but didn't open her eyes. She had pursed her lips into something like a smile, but she snuggled closer to his chest and didn't show any signs of wanting to move.
After a pause in which he was willing his heart to beat much, much slower than it was, she quietly remarked, "One of us has to go in to take a shower first."
Even if it hadn't been morning, Kit's proximity would've been causing him to have the stiffest hard-on of his life. "Uhh ..." he began. "I can wait, if you want to go first.
She rumbled a noncommittal, almost irritated sound at him until she flung an arm out of the bedclothes to grip the edge of the nightstand, and levered herself into a sitting position. She stretched her arms up above her head, making her tank top ride up and expose more of her back.
And then, she was on her feet, making for the adjoining bathroom, the click! of her claws receding as she turned the corner and was gone to his sight.
He lay back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Then he hauled his pillow out from under his hand and stuffed it down over his face, clapping his hands down against his padded face a few times, as if to banish whatever thoughts were assailing him.
* * *
Kit stood in the spacious shower stall of the master bedroom's bathroom, reveling in the sensation of the plentiful, hot water coursing through her hair and down her torso.
It'd been a rare pleasure, getting to spend a night with Rick and play games and watch movies. In fact, the high point of the night was climbing into bed with him and having him cuddle up with her through the night.
They'd had dating partners. They were both single at the moment, but that wasn't the point, she figured. They trusted each other with everything, and were so comfortable around each other, he was kind of a big brother to her.
Except, she was musing to herself, as she ran her hands over the slim, athletic curves of her body, from her shoulders, down to her perky breasts, over her flat stomach, to the faint mound just above her cleft, nobody else can make me feel this way.
She heaved a sigh, somewhere between frustration and longing, and bent to crank the two faucets to the off position, before she opened the stall's door and snatched her towel from the nearby rack.
As she teased and tousled the water from her fur, and wrapped her hair in a separate towel, Rick rapped on the door. "Need anything?" his voice asked.
"No," she said, "I'm good. You might want a towel for yourself, though."
As she wrapped the other of her towels around her body and stepped over to the sink, she heard the turning of the doorknob behind her, followed by the door opening. As she smoothed some of the fur on her face and picked up her toothbrush, she saw in the wall-mounted mirror Rick's tall form passing behind her toward the shower, towel in hand.
"I hope I didn't use up all the hot water," she apologized.
"It's ok," he said, as he stepped into the shower. He slid the stall door closed, and began working the faucet knobs. A fraction of a second before the water began hitting the tile floor, she saw out of the corner of her eye Rick's boxer shorts sailing through the air and hitting the floor behind her.
"Careful with those," she remarked, speaking around a glob of toothpaste and foam as she scrubbed at her fangs.
His only reply was a vague grunting noise as the sound of splashing water began to fill the room.
As she finished up her morning routine and adjusted her towels before stepping away from the sink, she glanced over at the shower stall, where she could faintly see Rick's silhouette shrouded in steam through the fogged glass of the stall door.
It did nothing to help the sensation of arousal she'd been feeling since waking.
She quickly made her exit and shut the door behind her.
* * *
When he finished with his shower, and found that Kit was nowhere on the upper floor of the house, he took a few minutes to make himself presentable, as well as finding a clean pair of boxer shorts, and then trudged down the stairs to the kitchen.
She was at the stove, just starting work on a breakfast for the two of them - eggs, bacon, sausage, and warm milk.
"You didn't have to set this up," he said, coming over to stand next to her. "I was gonna make breakfast."
"It's ok," she said, looking up at him for a moment and winking. "Besides, you can't cook for shit, whatever you tell your friends."
He grumbled an insult under his breath at her, even though he knew she was entirely right, and turned to open up the refrigerator. "We'll need some more beer before tonight."
"Mhmm," she agreed, scraping the bacon and sausage around the surface of the frying pan.
He cast an appraising look along the kitchen counter - seeing the coffee, the blender, and the electric kettle. "Did you want any 'nip tea?" he asked.
She hesitated in her answer. "Nah," she said eventually. "Maybe later, but I'd like to start today feeling more awake, not stoned."
He nodded, and scratched at his right buttock through his shorts before settling down in his chair at the kitchen table.
Before long, she passed him a plate with his breakfast on it, which he attacked with gusto. She sat with him and ate more slowly, starting with her eggs.
As he finished his plate, he happened to look over at her as she was lifting a sausage link in her bare fingers. She gently nipped the end off it, chewed for a moment, and then swallowed.
And then, as he looked on with his jaw nearly dropping clear to the table, she closed her eyes and neatly puckered her lips around the dripping end, sucking gently and occasionally licking at the juices that flowed forth with the tip of her tongue.
For a while, she seemed caught up in what she was doing. Then, apparently noticing the silence, she opened one eye and looked in his direction, hesitating with her lips still wrapped around the end of the sausage.
"What?"