Lio/sourang 6 (Patreon)

This month, @Gotriss requested that I continue on with the lio/sourang story and get a little of that rough lio tongue action in there. Sure, why not? I'm game.

Content warning: NSFW! NSFW! NSFW!

———

“No?” Lymin asked with a nervous giggle. “What did you think I was going to do?”

Static gasped and flailed. “Uh… Er… I… I just was not ready!” Then he covered his whiskers with both paws.

Lymin grinned. “Speaker save me!” he said. “You really are adorable.”

“I am?” Static asked with sincere surprise. “I always thought I…”

But then Lymin was stroking the sourang’s nethers once more and the words evaporated on his lips. His eyes closed and his breath escaped with a soft moan.

“And sensitive too,” the lio added. But no sooner did Lymin’s fingertip stroke the rim of Static’s slit, the sourang’s slender hips began to buck, and his bright-orange phallus started darting in and out, looking for a hole to screw.

The lio was still startled, but less so than he had been the first time. He didn’t pull away, and after the fourth time the sword-like blade of meat emerged, he snatched it, pinching it firmly but gently between the pads of his index finger and thumb.

Static gasped and stared at him wide-eyed. He panted hard, his breathing fast and shallow, his muscles rigid, but he didn’t appear to be in pain, so with his other paw, Lymin traced a pad along the thing’s edge.

“I take it,” Lymin whispered, “that no one has treated you this way before?” He smiled and stroked a little harder, letting his pad glide over the lightly moistened surface. Small, raised bumps covered the orange skin, but apart from their slightly brighter shade, he could barely feel them pass beneath his fingertip.

“No,” whimpered Static. He closed his eyes once more and slowly relaxed his neck, resting his head back against the cigars. “Never.”

“Well, if this isn’t too intense,” whispered the lio, “perhaps you’d like to brave a lio’s tongue? They’re a little rougher than those of other races … but it never seems to discourage anyone from kissing us.”

Static continued to pant, his back rigid and arched in what looked like an uncomfortable curve. His long claws dug deep into the cigar below him and he laid there in silence for several long seconds before managing to squeak the meekest, “Okay.”

“As you wish,” said Lymin as he leaned forward, stopping only when the soft hairs along his lips touched orange flesh. He pursed his lips a moment and blew cool air along Static’s length before dragging his big pink tongue across the sourang’s penis.

Static groaned. He couldn’t seem to manage words, but the sound he made seemed content enough for Lymin to continue. So, starting just below the midpoint where the lio’s pinch held Static still, Lymin licked all the way down to his slit, then spent a little extra effort there, exploring the skin that seemed so very sensitive to his touch.

Beneath the scent of wet wool, Lymin found that whatever wetness coated the sourang’s bare skin held a familiar smell, like those of mushrooms served atop steak. The flavor was different, less familiar, perhaps more akin to milk. He smacked his lips and Flehmed a moment, running the scents across the underside of his tongue to savor all its nuances.

He licked his length a few more times, then spent a little effort worming his tongue inside Static’s slit. The fit was snug, but the skin stretchy. Static gasped each time but said nothing.

So Lymin turned about and worked his way up, licking the tapering skin above where he pinched until his lips nuzzled the orange implement’s tip. Then higher still, Lymin pressed himself up against the sourang until his balls rested atop those between Static’s thighs.

“You like?” Lymin asked sweetly. Then he wrapped a paw around, squeezing the two of them together—so warm against his skin, the sourang felt almost feverish.

“Uh huh,” whimpered Static.

“Well good!” And with that, the lio began to grind against him, enjoying how the soft, slippery skin glided across his own. He nuzzled his muzzle deep into Static’s fur as he rocked his hips, pushing harder and harder against him until a tiny shiver of joy radiated up from his tail, squirting a small glob of pre across orange flesh.

“Oops!” Lymin chuckled. He pulled away slightly, and with the pad of his thumb, he squeegied up much of the mess, then spent a moment wiping the slippery wetness around his own tip, coating his first few centimeters.

Lymin loosened his grip a little too much and with a sudden jerk, Static retracted away once more, like a power cable into a charging station.

The sourang’s muscles finally relaxed and he flopped over on his side, wordless and still panting hard.

Lymin chuckled and rested his head again against Static’s side. “That’s gonna take a little getting used to.”

“I am sorry,” whispered the shaggy beast, but Lymin hushed him.

“Don’t be. Just relax. Let me do the work.” And with that, he pushed Static’s hind leg far forward, then brushed back his scrotum to expose his slit once more. He leaned in close and gripping himself firmly, carefully lined his freshly lubricated tip to the slit’s rim.

With a gentle shove, he pressed himself slightly inside the sourang’s body.

Static tensed again, scrambling slightly and getting midway up on one knee with the other leg out straight.

“Whoa! Easy there, big guy,” whispered Lymin as he clung to his friend’s haunches.

Static was panting hard again, muscles hard as bone.

“Just relax,” whispered the lio. With the gentlest of thrusts, he slid himself slightly back, so he was just barely touching Static’s slit, then slightly forward so his tip was just inside. Back and forth, back and forth, trying to get the sourang used to the sensation. “Good,” he whispered, “just let me—”

Then he must have pushed just a bit too far, triggering Static’s instinctual need to hump at the air. Out sprung his penis and then it pulled back inside his body just as quickly.

But this time, with Lymin’s hard pink cone partially in the way, Static’s recoil pulled on Lymin, tugging him farther inside.

Again, Static humped, the motion of his hips thrusting down on Lymin’s shaft. His dick tasted the air once more, pulling the lio completely inside his body this time.

Now it was Lymin’s turn to gasp as he clung to the sourang, ten claws digging into a shaggy pelt.

But Static couldn’t stop. Hump. Hump. Hump! His dick flailed, rubbing hard against Lymin’s with each pass, squeezing it tightly each time the orange meat filled the slit.

It was everything Lymin could do just to hold on. He raised a leg and dug his hind claws in, trying to get a better grip. He shoved hard against the commodore’s cigar with his last remaining paw.

But up inside Static, something wonderful was happening. Something soft and warm, slippery and, above all, frantic. Though Lymin was on top, Static was doing all the work. The lio bit down, grabbing on as best he could without hurting the sourang.

It was so good and going so fast! Lymin wanted to pace himself, but he was sure if he managed to pull out somehow, he wouldn’t be able to line himself back up, so he closed his eyes and enjoyed the ride.

Soon he was near his end and then past it, climaxing hard up inside Static’s slit, squirting load after load. And even when he was done and overstimulated, just wanting to lie still and be held, the sourang still thrusted. Once! Twice! Three times and he froze, his dick as hard as steel almost crushing Lymin’s member as Static’s muscles throbbed and spasmed.

Somewhere beneath him, he could hear a rhythmic splashing, like a kinked garden hose being unkinked for only a moment at a time. The air filled with a strong scent of bleach.

Static tensed, shook, and then toppled to the side, nearly throwing Lymin from his perch.

Then they laid still, resting, Lymin’s short fur damp with sweat and Static’s wet wool scent even stronger than before.

Eventually, the lio raised his heavy head and peeked around Static’s quickly heaving chest. The brown cigar had turned black, so much liquid had seeped into the dry leaves that they were once again pliant. Had they been screwing on a concrete floor, Lymin was certain the sourang would have left a puddle.

“Damn,” gasped Lymin between breaths before letting his head flop down against shaggy fur.

“I am sorry,” whispered Static. “I get … excited.”

“That’s quite all right,” chuckled the lio, and he stroked his friend’s pelt with his paw. “I don’t mind that sort of excitement at all.”

“Okay, good. I was worried.”

“Don’t be—although I’m wondering if you left me a dry place to sleep!”

Static chuckled and then chittered a laugh. “You might need to check around, but I think there is still a dry cigar in the back.”

Lymin grinned and shook his head. “Sure wish I could see the look on his face when that krakun tries smoking the crusty cigar.”

———

Reviewer's link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1JwMKlWLwR8Wqo6nNz_9zuDTs8ijLjgR2Hdqms0T3kX0/edit?usp=sharing

Thoughts?