Through the Rift 6 (Patreon)

Today's episode is NSFW! NSFW! NSFW!

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I napped for much of the afternoon and enjoyed a dinner that the med-bot carried in for us in a second shopping bag. After that, the four of us sat about and spent some time getting to know each other better, talking and telling stories. The process was slow, of course, as everything anyone said had to be translated into the sign language we’d devised. I was picking up more mouse words as we went along and the two were learning to recognize some of my English as well, so we got better at communicating the longer we talked.

Simba clearly wasn’t fond of people in general, and he explained that he’d moved to this remote cabin to put some distance between him and the world. I had messed that up, obviously. I got the sense that although his self-imposed isolation was unusual, it wasn’t considered nearly as strange as hermits were seen on my world.

I was fascinated to hear Noa and Ayla talk about their childhood. I got the sense that they had both grown up poor. And I didn’t understand much when they explained about medical school and how they got into it, but I was glad they’d both been able to move up in life.

When it was my turn, I told them about how I’d always wanted to be an astronaut and that this had been my first real mission. They hung on every word and sign.

Simba broke out a jar of homemade sangria. I found it dry and very sour. I didn’t think it was particularly strong, but when I stood to use Simba’s piss bucket, I stumbled slightly. I don’t think it was because of my injuries.

The three broke out the dice game once more. We laughed and chatted while they played. When the sangria finally ran dry, Simba served us juice and the mice spiked it with ethanol from the med-bot. Even though I wasn’t playing the game, I was still having a great time.

There was a surprise, however, when the game concluded. The mice explained—repeatedly, as my liquor-addled brain was shittier at translating signs than my sober brain had been—that Simba had to kiss me. Was this because he’d won the game? Or was this a dare because he’d lost? I had no idea. I’d been so lost in telling a story about college that I’d barely been paying any attention to the game at all.

Had the situation been different, had I been sober, been on my own world, been expected to kiss a human guy, I think I’d have felt very uncomfortable to say the least. I don’t like being pushed around, being told I had to do something that wasn’t in my nature, but for whatever reason, I didn’t even hesitate. I put my good hand behind Simba’s head and pulled him in close for some industrial-grade tonsil hockey.

If anything, Simba seemed far more hesitant and reserved. He only seemed to get into it after we’d been at it for a minute or two. The mice danced with joy. They whistled and cheered as they watched us kiss, and Noa even pretended to faint when we finally came up for air.

How was it? Weird. Simba’s tongue was longer and rougher than a human tongue, but not nearly so abrasive as the sandpaper tongues that my ex-girlfriend’s cats would lick me with. His teeth were huge too, and that took some getting used to, but he acted far more shy, far more hesitant than happy-drunk-me was.

The make-out session was also a lot of fun, and despite the fact that I was kissing another guy, I found myself getting very turned on.

When we finished kissing, Simba turned away, refusing to face any of us. I squeezed his hand and he squeezed mine. He seemed very embarrassed but not upset. For me, I felt like I was in high school again, that we were hiding in Pedro’s basement, draining the bottle of cheap tequila that he’d looted from his dad’s liquor cabinet. Being dared to make out with someone in front of the others was typical fare for the parties back then!

The mice put away their game, and Simba declared that all of us had had too much to drink already. He gathered up the glasses and poured all the spiked juice that remained into his sangria jar, then put that up on the highest shelf as if to keep it out of our reach. Then, he repeated his nightly rituals and the four of us climbed back into bed.

Personally, I was feeling far too good to call it a night. With my afternoon nap, I didn’t feel tired yet, and I wanted to stay up late. I wanted to keep on talking with my three new friends, but of course, in the dark, there’d be little point in trying. Without using any signs, it’d be unlikely that they’d catch much of what I said, and I’d understand just as little as well.

Idly, I let my fingers stroke the short fur on Simba’s taut belly. He didn’t seem to mind. Instead of complaining, he put his arms around me and hugged me to his chest.

For no good reason, I let my fingers venture lower, then lower still, over his muscular stomach and cautiously into the thick forest of wild fur that covered Simba’s crotch.

And I froze.

I don’t know why I’d felt an urge to touch the lion’s junk, but now that my fingers were there, I quickly realized that there was no such junk present to touch. Simba didn’t complain, didn’t grab my wrist and pull my hand away. He didn’t react at all—unless you counted the soft purr that started deep inside his chest.

I bent forward slightly, and my fingers searched lower and deeper into that long fur. Ever so slowly, Simba readjusted, pulling her knees apart and allowing my fingertips to slide between two soft folds of skin and the warm wetness between them.

Honestly, I didn’t know what to do. What had begun as playful exploration had become something very, very different. I had rung the bell, and she’d opened the door for me. Did I venture on, or did I run and hide?

I’ll tell ya right now, I wanted to keep on going, but it’s not like we were alone! Noa and Ayla were snuggled up together on Simba’s belly, resting against my arm. This wasn’t exactly fooling around in a sleeping bag, hoping you wouldn’t wake up the camp counselor. If we continued on, the mice would surely know. There hadn’t even been enough time yet for them to fall asleep!

Eh.

What the fuck. You only live once.

So, I pressed my ear against Simba’s chest and gently rubbed my fingertip back and forth into the warm, wet cleft. Simba’s growling purr deepened, she squeezed me closer, her body trembling slightly as I played.

Beside us, between us, I heard Noa start to giggle. I knew it was her. I had heard that adorable chittering hiccup sound all night, and I could pick it out easy. Ayla was right behind her, barely suppressing a laugh that sounded more like a tiny cough than anything else.

Fine. Whatever.

If it wasn’t going to be a secret, then there was no point in pretending. I lifted myself up on an elbow and pressed my lips to Simba’s. This time, she didn’t hesitate, kissing me back with just as much passion as I showed her.

I picked up my pace, inserting a second finger into the soaking wet fur. She readjusted again, tilting her hips to meet me, spreading her legs wide.

I worked her hard for a while, then slowed my pace and gave her a moment to catch her breath, only to speed up again a moment later.

Soon, she couldn’t kiss me any longer. She raised her chin and put her hand to the side of my head, pulling me snug against her. She moaned. She panted. She even cried out softly as she rocked her hips, grinding against my fingers, pleading with me to let her finish.

At last, and with little warning, she squeezed me close, shaking hard. Simba threw open her mouth and fucking roared as the orgasm overtook her.

The sound, the sensation, the whole experience was so overwhelming that had she not been holding me tight, I would have fled in a panic.

And then the moment was gone. She was holding me, panting and trembling. Though I hadn’t realized it until that moment, I was too. Two of my fingers were deep inside the warmth of her body, and I left them there for many long moments as we worked to calm our breathing. Then, ever so slowly, I slid my fingers free. Her muscles spasmed once more as I brushed against over-stimulated flesh, and then she went slack, almost melting into the bed.

I giggled like a naughty schoolchild. I couldn’t help it. She giggled too, the sound far deeper more growly. The mice gave up all pretense of pretending not to notice, laughing out loud with boisterous little squeaks.

“Erm, um,” I muttered quietly, not overly concerned that there was no way for me to sign my words—not to mention that signing with a hand slicked with bodily juices seemed really crude, “sorry about that guys. Rude of me, I know. Just … kinda happened. Won’t happen again.”

Simba growled something too, and I presumed it to be a comparable apology.

But the mice just laughed and laughed. I was glad it was dark as I knew I’d be blushing badly. My ears burned with nuclear fire.

Was this why they’d dared her to kiss me? Did all three of them realize that there was potential chemistry between us—despite how oblivious I’d been?

Probably.

I made a mental note that future me would need to keep in mind: on this world, lionesses have manes too.

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Reviewer's link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1YQIFhtrCSH2IunyVd0CTenJ60OoEdTGOmT7CqSqZnX4/edit?usp=sharing

Thoughts?