Close Enough
A Sleepaway Story


“What?! What do you mean we don’t have to work today?”


Flow, previously groggy moments after her partner Crag tapped her awake from bed, now stood jolted with surprise in the quarters of Ironwoods, alerted by the magnemite’s news. He floated before the emolga with a sack of belongings hanging behind him by the screw atop his round, metallic body.


“Oh, no. Did you forget? You must have forgotten,” Crag replied with a sigh. “I told you about me applying for family leave, didn’t you? It was approved last week by the guildmaster! So, team Ironwoods has today and the rest of the week off.” He raised his magnets in cheer. “Ha haa! I can’t wait to visit my old folks. They still have trouble believing I even got into a guild.”


“A whole week?” Flow stared back at Crag like a deer in headlights. 


“I know, isn’t it grand?” Crag chirped. 


“Um...” Flow’s voice trailed off into quiet dismay. She quickly reasserted herself. “Can’t I just work with another team while you’re gone?”


“No?” Crag replied, puzzled. “The whole point of family leave is not having to work. You know, a vacation. So you can visit family.”


Flow quietly cast a look in Crag’s direction that pierced the painfully obvious through his thick, metal hull. 


“Oh. Right.” Crag stumbled his way off the conversational landmine he carelessly stepped on. “Well, um...if you’re not planning to visit, er, them, maybe you can tag along with me? My folks would enjoy meeting a fellow electrician.”


Flow drooped down and hunched over. “Crag...I’m sure they’re nice, but a long trip is the last thing I want right now. I’m sorry.” 


Crag floated down to pat Flow on the shoulder. “There, there. No need to apologize. You have the right to spend your free time as you see fit. You can relax, unwind, enjoy Land’s End. Just remember to leave that neckerchief in our quarters. What’s the point of a vacation if the city thinks you’re still on-duty?”


Flow peered up at Crag, frowning at him in great disapproval. “But Crag, I like being on-duty. What am I going to do if I don’t have to work?”


Crag nervously backed away. “Come now, don’t be like that. I’m sure you’ll find something to kill the time! Anyways, I better get going. See you in a week!”


“What? Hey!” Flow chased after Crag as he hastily flew out of their quarters, past the curtain door, into the nearby hall. “I’m not done talking to you!”


“Sorry, but no time like the present!” Crag called back, as he zoomed down the hall on his way to the exit. 


“Why are you running away?!” Flow yelled at him from the entryway to their quarters, but by then he had already turned the corner.


“Would you pipe it down out there?” A voice called from the neighboring quarters. “Some of us are still trying to sleep!”


Flow, left to her lonesome, stammered an apology. “S-sorry!” She said, before retreating back from the hallway. 


***


Flow threw herself into the large pillow that served her bed. She stared at the stony ceiling and contemplated the sudden void punched into her daily routine. She made a mental list of things to do in the city, realized how short that list turned out to be, flipped upon her stomach and sank her face into the bed. She muffled a sigh, feeling quite stupid. 


She forced herself out of bed again in an attempt to start things right. Her eyes settled upon the black neckerchief she typically wore, folded neatly and drooped over a chest of team Ironwoods’ personal stock. She bit her lip as she recalled Crag’s advice, pried her gaze away, and forced herself out of her quarters and into the hallway without her cloth of authority. 


She gave passing greetings to her fellow guild members as she checked the time in the main lobby, then ascended the stairs to the roof of the towering guild hall. She sought to clear her mind and get on with the idle day in the first, best way that she could think of: a running leap from up high to glide long over the city. 


The wind felt good on her face for the few minutes she circled about.


She landed downtown on a roof. She climbed down to the streets. She stopped by the bank to withdraw a few coppers. She spent it all on a confectionary treat that pleased her palate. She headed for the bathhouse, sank nose-deep into the hot, ache-soothing waters, and blew the occasional bubbles for what felt like hours. 


She walked back to the guild hall to check the time again. She realized just over an hour had actually passed. 


“What?!” Flow exclaimed, catching attention of other guild members. The emolga assured them, with some embarrassment, that everything was fine. In effort to save face, Flow escaped their perplexed gazes by an inconspicuous walk back to her quarters. As soon as Flow was out of public view, she threw her face into her palms. 


“Aaagh! This is horrible,” Flow groaned. “This vacation is the worst, and it’s not even been a day.”


Flow threw herself back into the bed and stared up towards the ceiling once more. She had hoped she would’ve stayed away from her quarters for longer. Now back where she started, she crossed her arms as she lay down on her back, more than a little annoyed with herself.


“I already did everything that I could think of,” she murmured, “Now what?”


A few minutes deep into thought soon proved her wrong. No. She hadn’t done everything. 


A gentle blush formed in her spotted cheeks. “It’s not something I’d do in the middle of the day,” Flow thought, justifying. “But...it’s been awhile, so...”


Flow let her arms fall upon the bed by her sides. She took a few deep breaths to relax. She closed her eyes. In a few minutes’ time, her mind floated off into imagination. Flow slowly relinquished her body to the lover of her dreams. As the emolga’s harbored scenario played out in her mind, her growing lust warmed the smooth, tight slit of her virgin pussy. Her scent filled the air as she widened her legs and fell deeper into a desiring mood. 


Her right paw slipped between her legs, stretching her patagium over her hips and waist. Her fingers curled to gently stroke between her folds. Her pleasure slowly boiled to the surface. The minutes passed without pause in her motions.


“Aaanh...”


She was quick to clam up her mouth, muffling her state of pleasure. She stroked on and on, gaining some speed, as her fluids enveloped her fingers. She rolled upon the left side of her body and curled inward to stroke deeper. Her palm massaged the sensitive bump over her folds. Her paw over her mouth fell down and clawed into the mattress as her fantasy seized her body more fiercely than she had expected. Reaching this point always felt like it took forever, but...   

“Annh! Y-yes!” she gasped beneath her breath. 


Electrified, Flow’s breaths quickened as she moaned. Her feet bent back by the ankles as her pleasure amplified. As her masturbation kept on and on, driving her ever closer to her peak by the minute, her teeth clamped down as she tried to squelch her final, impending, orgasmic cry. She curled even further in with a sudden lurch. She let loose a muffled squeal.


“Hnnnnnnnnfh!!!”


Contractions rocked Flow’s body as her orgasm finally overtook her. Her muscles spasmed rapidly between her legs. Her juices gushed forth against her paw and streamed down her thigh as she twitched and stuttered. 


And then, the moment passed, far more quickly than it took to reach it. 


She rolled upon her back again and dropped down her arms. She lay upon her bed, mind momentarily wiped in the fleeting moment of bliss.


As her state of mind slowly receded, reality began to creep back into her mind. Her lips contorted slowly into a frown. She turned her cheek against the bed.


“Now what?” she asked. 


Flow hadn’t felt so alone in a very long while. She gripped the bed with the paw she just used to get off as the sad withdrawal fell to renewed frustration. The emolga’s thoughts dwindled on the male emolga in her dreams, a source of comfort for many nights since her induction into the guild, and someone she had never actually met.  


“I can’t be the only emolga here...right?”


Flow furrowed her brow. In that moment, she made new plans for the evening.


***


Under the starry sky, the stone city of Land’s End took on a much different kind of life. Laborers, shopkeepers, and guild members alike came together to wrap up the long, hard day. Bathhouses, bars, and certain other establishments played host to the eclectic groups that filled their chambers, keeping the night owls occupied with business flowing in and out. 


Flow rarely took part in such nightlife, save for the occasional visit to Crag’s favorite watering hole. She usually preferred retiring to her quarters soon after dinner and a bath. But on the night of her first day off, she now stood alone, coins between her paws, at the open entrance to a popular bar she had never visited before. It seemed the best place to hopefully meet an emolga like her. 


She stared up at the sign hanging above. It read simply: 


BUZZY BAR


The emolga swallowed a lump in her throat. A raucous crowd could be heard from within all the way out to the street. Such noise typically repelled her, especially alone. But she was determined. She had served as a public face of the guild for some time now, along with Crag. By now, she felt, she ought to be used to such mingling on her own. She girded herself against her usual response, took a deep breath, and walked right in. 


Buzzy Bar hosted a number of pokémon, most much bigger than Flow, well over capacity at the bar itself. Those unable to cram their way to the bar either stood about or sat at tables so small they could only manage holding less than a dozen clustered pints. A loud, feminine voice shouted orders over the din of the crowd to the few waiters walking and flying about with trays and mugs.  


Flow felt more and more in her gut that coming here was a mistake. She fought against that feeling, bit her lip, and approached the bar itself, scanning the length of it for a spot she could squeeze into. She found a toppled chair at the very end. She bit her coins between her teeth, uprighted the chair, and then stood upon it in order to poke her head up within sight of the barkeeper. Amidst the many conversations going on, she started to hear a distinct, droning buzz.


Flow slipped the copper coins from her mouth onto the bar, beneath her paws. From beside the big pokémon sitting next to her, she couldn’t see the bartender at all. “Um, hello?” she carefully raised her voice, trying not to sound like a rude customer. 


The big pokemon next to Flow, a typhlosion, suddenly turned towards her. “Well hello to you too,” he responded with a gruff voice. 


Flow peered up with reddening cheeks as she visibly stumbled through a misunderstanding. “Oh, no. I was just trying to get the bartender. Sorry.”


“Whatever you say, little lady,” replied the typhlosion, shrugging her off. He went back to sipping his drink. 


At that moment, the bartender suddenly swooped into Flow’s view. “What’re you buying, girl?”


Flow froze up. The red gaze of a vespiquen bared down upon Flow, an immense queen bee held aloft by rapidly buzzing wings almost too small for the job. Her mandibles twitched with the words she spoke as she pressed the emolga for an order.


“Well? Spit it out!”


Flow stammered as she slid her coins forward, “J-Just one of whatever this will get me, please!”


“You like surprises, huh?” The vespiquen swept up Flow’s money in her claws. “I got a sweet one coming up for you, then!”


Flow remembered to breathe as the bartender buzzed off and then promptly returned with a tall pint of Buzzy Bar’s signature brew. 


“Um, is that your smallest size?” Flow asked.


“It’s my only size,” the vespiquen corrected. “Take your time with that one. I don’t want you tumbling piss-drunk out of your seat.”  


“I’ll be careful,” Flow nervously assured her. 


“I’ll hold you to that!” The bartender left Flow to her own devices as she got on with the other orders.


The emolga carefully tipped the oversized beverage to her lips. The bartender proved true to her word: the frothy ale tasted sweet as honey. As she sipped the contents of her pint, Flow quietly peeked around the bar. From her stool, however, she could barely see past the typhlosion sitting next to her, and saw no one that she hoped for.


After many long minutes of fruitless searching with her eyes, Flow realized she couldn’t handle another sip. Half her ale was gone, but a heavy buzz had already set in. She tapped the typhlosion’s elbow on the bar.


“Hrm?” The typhlosion turned to her.


“Sorry to bother you, but do you want the rest of my drink?” Flow asked shyly. “I got more than I can handle.”


“Sure thing, little lady.” The typhlosion reached over and reeled in the pint with a smile. “I’m always up for free drinks.”


“Thank you.” 


Flow bowed her head as her mind coasted on the heavy buzz. After so much to drink, she knew better than to ask for seconds. She thought of how her chances would be vastly improved had she worked up the courage to roam the place beforehand. As she stared down at the bar, one of her paws dragged downwards on the surface as she noticed it was built of dark, sturdy, polished wood. The natural pattern suppressed beneath the polish vaguely reminded her of the way things used to be, before unfortunate luck had torn it asunder. 


Memories played back in her mind through the buzz like an old, neglected reel. Her murdered father. Her long-deceased mother. Her minccino friend, left behind in tears. The longer she stared down at the bar, the more she receded into a quiet state of despair. Thrust into the crowd of a bar, she now felt more alone than ever.  


Three more pints suddenly plopped down in front of her, courtesy of the bartender. She nearly jumped with alarm, snapped out of her stupor. As she rushed back to the present, her eyes widened at the sight of the drinks. That much alcohol would surely send her toppling right into her grave.


“What?” Flow spoke up, perplexed, to the vespiquen. “I didn’t order more! I can’t even hold down one.”


“Pah! Tell that to the three boys that gifted them.” The vespiquen pointed down towards the other end of the bar.


“I can’t even see them from here!” Flow protested. “Who are they?”


“They’re all cats. One’s white with a red streak on the face, one’s black with a red fan on the head, and one’s blue with a mane.”


Flow’s eyes slowly blinked. “I’m getting free drinks...from cats?” She slapped her face into the palm of her paws with a miserable groan. “Oh, no. I must look like low-hanging fruit in here.”  


Flow poked the typhlosion next to her. 


“Hrm? Oh...I thought you were done for the night,” the typhlosion remarked in amusement.


“Sorry to bother you again,” Flow apologized as she looked up to him, “But can you take all these drinks for me?”


His face lit up at the offer. “Can I? Absolutely!”


“Thanks again,” Flow returned with a sigh of relief, as the typhlosion scooped in all three pints. She then said to the bartender, “I hope I’m not being rude.”


“It’s been paid for, so everything’s rosy,” the bartender assured with a wave.  


The vespiquen buzzed off. Meanwhile, Flow began to think about her exit strategy. Unfortunately for her, the big pint she partly drank put a significant damper on things. She learned a long time ago that gliding under the influence usually ended painfully. She didn’t have Crag around, either, to give her a ride home while letting the buzz run its course. Instead, she played the waiting game. She watched the typhlosion beside her begin chugging the extra pints she sent his way. For now he unknowingly shielded her as the emolga slowly but surely gathered her bearings.


Alas, the typhlosion wouldn’t stay forever. He got up from his seat, quite inebriated, much sooner than she would have liked. 


“Hic! Thanks for all the drinks, little lady! You really -Hic!- made my night,” he told Flow.


“N-no problem!” Flow returned, her anxiety spiked. She struggled to think of a way to stall the typhlosion’s departure, but her mind drew a blank as he stumbled his way to the exit. With the seat beside Flow now vacant, Flow’s eyes fell upon a zangoose, a luxio, and a weavile all peering in her direction with a determined glint in their eyes. Flow froze with trepidation as all three rose from their seats, eager to slip in next to her, not yet aware that they had all set their sights on the same, cute rodent.


Panic raced through Flow’s mind. The emolga didn’t feel ready at all to head out and escape back into the sheltered confines of her quarters. She averted her gaze down to the bar from the approaching felines and gritted her teeth, pretending not to see them, thinking her first night alone at a bar couldn’t get any worse.   


But then, a lucky stall. The felines paused and began glaring at each other as they got wind of each other’s intent. Flow peered at them, somewhat relieved, from the corner of her eye. A deadlock amongst them worked just fine for her while it lasted. She could force herself out the door on wobbly steps with just a few more minutes to gird herself. 


“Oh, finally!” A voice called out from behind her.


Flow felt a jolt of surprise as a large, squared log suddenly thunked against the bar, right beside the empty chair. She turned her head to see a gray, two-legged pokémon not much taller than herself happily climb up the seat that the typhlosion left behind. Her eyes immediately fell upon his pompadour, his split ponytail, and his big, dark nose that resembled an olive. His firm, pink protrusions on his hips, shoulders, and temples left no doubts of his type and breed.


“Hey, you new here? How about a drink on me?” he offered, smirking.


Flow blinked slowly at him, stunned for the moment. She had never met a timburr in person before, let alone caught the attention of one. The felines looked on, at once befuddled and greatly annoyed at the wildcard fighting-type that blocked them off. 


“Oh, I'm sorry,” she answered. “I’m still a little tipsy from the last drink I had.”


“Hey, no pressure! You can have a sip of mine if you change your mind.”


The timburr whipped out a few coins from the moneybag slung over his shoulder. “Hey there!” he called to the bartender, “Hit me up with the good stuff.”


The vespiquen buzzed over with a pint and a glare. “You again! I told you not to put your damn log on the bar, Fig. You’ll scratch it up!”


Fig raised his hands in mild protest. “Now, now, my queen. I always treat your bar like it’s one of your combees. You’ll never see a scratch from me.”


Fig’s money was promptly snatched by the vespiquen as she handed over a pint. “I better not, or you’re repairing it for free,” she warned, before buzzing off again. 


Fig pulled the pint in close as he turned his attention back to Flow. he wore a smile to make light of the moment’s anxiety. Flow stared back quietly, still unsure what to make of him. 


“I don’t think I caught your name,” Fig prodded. 


The emolga paused for a moment before stumbling into an answer. “Oh! It’s Flow.”


“Flow? Now that name suits you,” Fig complimented. “Mine’s Fig, but you figured that out already. Nice to meet you.” He paused for another sip. “You know, I could’ve sworn I’ve seen you before.”


Flow raised a brow. “How do you mean?”


“Last I saw you, you were flying past the wood shop with some one-eyed screwball. You also wore one of those guild scarfs. Am I wrong?”


Flow stifled a laugh. “That would be Crag, and it’s a neckerchief. But yeah. I’m almost always in uniform.”


“So you’re the real deal, then. A Land’s End guild member!” He took bigger sips with the growth of his enthusiasm. “Keeping the city streets safe and all that.”


Flow smiled nervously. “Um, is it really that special? Patrol duty is what the guildmaster makes all the new teams do.”


“Hey, don’t sell yourself short,” Fig insisted, pointing a finger. “Anyone doing guild work around the city for a hardass like her is tough as nails in my book. Strong, too.”


Flow gave Fig an incredulous look. “Wait, Fig. How can you say that with a straight face? You make me look like a twig.” She pointed to the squared log resting by the timburr’s feet. “That chunk of a tree you’re lugging around is huge! It’s bigger than you.” 


Fig shrugged. “That’s what any decent timburr is supposed to do, Flow, right from the moment we’re born. Doesn’t mean the guildmaster’s going to stamp my application the moment I strut in the door. Believe me, I’ve tried. Besides, you can fly, and you can zap. You’d totally kick my ass in a fight.”


Another big sip. “So yeah. You got more than a few legs up on me. Doesn’t hurt that you’re much cuter, too.”


A moment’s pause fell between them. As Fig turned back to his drink, Flow’s eyes widened. Flow’s look of incredulity then fell into a deep blush in her face. She fixated on the timburr sitting next to her sipping away. Her heart thumped against her ribs. 


Fig noticed that more than half of his ale was gone. The timburr slid the pint over to the emolga sitting beside him. 


“Maybe you should have the rest, Flow,” he offered. “If I get too buzzed, I’m bound to get my face mauled.”


Flow had sensed as well that the felines from earlier still hovered around, waiting to pounce on an opening. “Yeah...they’re not very happy about you,” she observed.


“Well, it’s not every day someone like you walks in here,” Fig flirted, “Sharing time with you sure beats drinking alone. That’s more than worth annoying a few bachelors.”


Fig leaned a little closer in. “So...we both came here looking for company, right? I don’t know about you, but I’d rather that things didn’t end for us at the bar.”


He smirked. “You know what I mean?”


Flow’s heart thumped harder as Fig’s words shot into her head. For a moment she almost forgot to breathe. She softly gasped with shock. Her eyes locked upon his, betraying her surprise and spike of nervousness as she fell quiet. 


Fig raised a brow in confusion at the sight of Flow freezing up. “I’m not exactly your first choice, huh?” he asked. 


“W-Well...” Flow trailed off, too embarrassed to answer.


“I’m no rodent, true. Not gonna lie, though. I bet you’d find I’m close enough,” Fig teased.


Flow visibly squirmed as Fig put her on the spot. The sight of her amused Fig as he looked on, letting her quietly and embarrassingly mull over the proposition.   


“Just...give me a few more minutes, Fig,” Flow finally answered with a wayward gaze, “Then we’ll go.”


“Whatever you say, Flow,” Fig replied warmly. 


*****


That night, the timburr and the emolga left together from the bar. Flow agreed to go to Fig’s home and followed his lead. She tapped her digits nervously together as Fig carried along his squared log beneath one arm. He frequently looked back to her in idle conversation, obviously eager. Flow noticed, as they walked, that Fig was leading them into the stone tenements. There, they entered one of the buildings and walked to the entrance of a small home, one of many packed together. There was no door, but a heavy cloth instead to offer a modicum of privacy, albeit more simple and ragged.


Fig pushed the cloth aside with the front end of his log. “This here’s the place.”


“Um, Fig? It’ll be just the two of us, right?” Flow questioned. 


“Aw, what kind of guy do you take me for? My roomie’s got a night shift. We got the room all to ourselves ‘til morning. Promise.”


“Well...alright.”


Flow followed Fig into his home. He leaned his log upright against a stone wall to the left, rummaged through the dark, and spread open a window curtain to let the collective light of the city, moon, and stars shine through. As Flow’s eyes adjusted to the dim illumination, she saw two small beds lined up at opposite ends of a small, spartan room, the sort that barely cushioned a floor of hard rock. A wooden chest of belongings sat in the middle. The bed in her quarters was luxurious by comparison. 


She also spotted a stone shelf stocked with some surprisingly familiar books. “Fig, do they give those books to everyone?” she asked, pointing at them. 


“What, those boring things? Yeah, and they collect dust everywhere too. Such a waste, right?” Fig answered. He walked to the bed on the left and sat down there, his legs wide and his arms bent back to lean upon them. “I bet you know them front-to-back, though.”


“Oh, n-not quite,” Flow admitted. “I’m still learning to read.”


“Oh, you immigrated?” Fig realized, his curiosity piqued. “Geez. I can’t imagine taking a leap like you did. That takes guts.”


Flow shot an unamused look Fig’s way. “Are you still saying things like that just to flatter me?”


“I meant everything I said...and I’m also trying to flatter you.” He patted a spot beside him on his bed. “Wanna come over and chill?”


Flow squirmed a bit. She slowly began to step towards him. “Fig, you’re so honest it hurts,” she told him. 


The emolga slowly turned and sat down, mere inches from the timburr’s left. They turned their heads to look at each other. The seconds quietly passed, filled with the distant drone of the city’s nightlife. She felt knots in her stomach as she peered up to his quiet, allured gaze. She noticed him starting to lean ever-so-slightly in her direction. 


“Fig...what are you doing?” she asked. 


“Just getting in the mood. You?”


“Um...well, trying to relax.”


“Maybe I can help you with that, hmm?”


Fig slid in closer and drew the tip of his fingers along Flow’s spine. He could see and feel the slight tremble he evoked from the emolga now sitting in bed with him. 


“W-Well, actually...” Flow paused for a moment to muster some courage as she pointed past the timburr. “Can we get on your log instead?”


Fig needed a moment to register the question. “You want to what?” he asked, perplexed.


“That’d work for me more than your bed,” Flow explained. “I’m sorry. That sounds weird to you, right?”


Fig peered back for a moment at his log before turning back to Flow. “It’s okay, really,” he assured, “I aim to please. Just wait riiiiight there.”


Flow watched Fig as he threw his weight forward to rise back up to his feet. One quick walk later, he grasped his squared log from the wall by both hands, turned, and lifted it high above his head. In the next moment, he carried his log to the center of the room and then laid it flat on the stone floor, parallel to his bed. He carefully brushed the top surface for splinters. Satisfied, he turned to face Flow and hopped up to sit upon one end of the log. He beckoned her with a wave of his finger.


“My wood’s all ready for you now,” he quipped. 


Flow shot him a dirty look. “Fig!”


“Heh, sorry. Couldn’t resist.”


Flow got up to her feet. “Don’t make that a habit, okay?” she pressed.


She walked over to a spot beside Fig and climbed up upon the squared log. She turned about until she, too, sat on top of it. Fig then watched her with interest as she looked down and drew little circles on the lumber with one of her paws. She felt the raw wood under her touch, smoothed only by fine cuts and sandpaper.


“You like the feel of it, huh?” Fig observed.


“Sometimes I wish Land’s End had more trees,” Flow sighed. 


Flow felt the grip of Fig’s hands on her shoulders. For a fraction of a second, she froze up, but then gasped as Fig gently pushed her over and laid her back along the top of the log. He slinked his weight over her in his provocative advance to lie upon her and tuck his arms around her waist and flaps, enveloping her petite figure in a hug. She instinctively pushed up against Fig’s chest to avoid being completely smooshed, but much of their bodies still pressed firm to each other, closely sharing each other’s warmth. They stared at each other eye-to-eye, their faces merely an inch apart.


“Well, look on the bright side. You’ve got a log for the night...not to mention myself,” Fig told her suavely.


Flow fell quiet. Her breath, blowing in his face, heated up in Fig’s embrace, as she felt slowly but surely drawn to his lips. She clenched her paws against Fig’s chest in renewed tension, feeling the remarkably strong muscles beneath his smooth, grey pelt.


“Fig...d-don’t keep me waiting,” Flow nervously requested.
  
Fig cocked his head and lowered his mouth. His lips met hers. Their eyes closed in tandem as he quietly began to kiss her. Their pelts idly rubbed together. As the minutes went on, he slipped out one hand to caress the side of her waist and her flap. He parted her lips with the slip of his tongue past her teeth.


“Mmh!” Flow expressed surprise in a muffled coo as their tongues intertwined. She gulped in little gasps of air between kisses as Fig inhaled through his nose to keep up the intimacy. She lifted her head to kiss back and wrapped her arms around his neck as his outward passion stoked her own. 


After what felt like an eternity, Fig finally broke the kiss from Flow. They looked to each other as a string of spit pulled apart between their mouths and dissipated.


“You’re not so tense anymore,” Fig observed with a smirk. 


“You’re not a bad kisser,” Flow admitted softly. She covered her mouth with both paws as she blushed.


Fig chuckled. “I’m just getting started.”


Flow felt Fig’s weight slide down. His hands slid gently along her waist and converged just past her belly. Flow’s eyes widened with surprise as she lifted her head to look at her partner. “Um, Fig?!” 


Fig peered down as his face now hung close to her sex. His fingers teased the opening with little strokes along the folds. His eager breaths blew gently between them. Then, without warning, he stuck out his tongue from his open mouth and stroked the whole length, from bottom to top. He made sure to flick the tip of his tongue right over her little bump.  


Flow’s head dropped with an impromptu, excited gasp. “Haaanh!”


Her reaction delighted Fig with an open grin. Without further hesitation he dived right in. His pompadour brushed against Flow’s belly as his tongue slipped past the folds. The wet muscle delved into her sex, twisting and turning about and lewdly indulging in her taste.


“F-Fig!” Flow exclaimed. 


Flow’s paws shot to her mouth in a vain attempt to muffle her noise. Her suppressed moans grew louder through her paws, lips, and teeth. As Fig began to suck on her little bump and stroke his tongue within her in rhythm, her paws dropped down upon Fig’s hair. She gasped harder and harder. She gripped Fig’s pompadour tight, swept away by his tongue. 


“Aaaaaanh!”


Flow’s back curled towards the ceiling as she cried out. Her body quaked with spasms as her orgasm shot through every inch of her. Flow’s back settled down upon the log again, her arms dropped to hang limp from her sides. She lay hot in her afterglow, gathering her bearings, taken aback by the rapid intensity Fig just evoked. 


And then, she heard Fig groaning again. “Ow...”


Flow weakly lifted her head. “Fig?” 


Sensing something was wrong, she threw her weight forward to sit upright, alarmed. “Fig! Are you alright?” She asked as she looked down. 


Fig rested his cheek upon the arms he tucked in for support. “You zapped me hard,” Fig answered as he recovered. He lifted an arm to gesture a wave. “See? I told you that you’d kick my ass.”


“But why?!” Flow exclaimed.


“Electric-types like you tend to be shockers in bed. Ungh. Can’t be helped.”


Flow cupped her mouth with both paws in shock. “Oh, no! I didn’t mean...this is terrible!”


The emolga immediately dove her paws beneath Fig’s shoulders and began scooping him up with a push against his chest. She gritted her teeth as she rose to her feet beneath Fig’s weight. Though not much bigger than her, he proved quite heavy to lift for her little pair of arms. 


“Whoa, what are you doing?” Fig asked, surprised. He took hold of her shoulders to steady his posture as he now sat upright. “I’m not paralyzed, Flow. Calm down.”


“Fig, you’re still hurt!” Flow insisted as she looked up to him. “Don’t you need help?”


“No way. It’ll take more than that to put me down,” Fig assured. “I mean...have a look.”


Fig rolled his back down upon the length of the log behind him. Flow’s gaze followed him downward...then froze. Fig’s arousal between his stout, spread legs bared itself in full to her: pink, tapered, and undoubtedly erect. It leaked from the tip, excited in Flow’s close presence as it pointed at her head.   


“I’m still raring to go,” Fig confirmed, as he tucked his hands behind his head. He smirked in amusement at Flow’s apparent mesmerization. 


Flow glanced up at Fig’s face before her eyes settled back downwards. “Y-Yeah...I can see that.”


Fig raised a brow. “My thing’s not weirding you out, is it?”


“What? No!” Flow shook her head. “It looks fine! Really, it does.”


“Then you don’t mind, you know, returning the favor?” Fig suggested.


His suggestion took a moment to fully register. “Oh! Um...right.”


The emolga inched in closer between the timburr’s legs. She swallowed a knot in her throat as she dropped down to all fours and slinked her forepaws up along his inner thighs. Fig felt the brush of her flaps as she gently drew in. 


Her nose breathed in his scent as she warmed herself up to the occasion. She felt him shudder to the moist, provocative lick of her tongue against the head of his cock. A look of apprehension remained on her face, even as she tasted his dick. 


“Unh...good start,” Fig complimented. 


Flow looked nervously over to Fig’s face as she paused her licks. “Fig?”


“Yeah?”


“Wasn’t it gross for you when your mouth went between my legs?”


Fig pulled his arms to lift his gaze more directly to Flow. He shot her a quizzical look. “No? I didn’t think of it as gross. Using my mouth down there to get you off is more of a thrill than anything else.”


Flow narrowed her gaze. “Are you just saying that?”


Fig began to falter under pressure. “Okay, so it’s still a bit gross. But it’s not that bad! You should, uh, give it a shot too. Please?”


Flow eased her expression. “Fig, you don’t have to beg.”


She centered her head and leaned it back to slide Fig’s cock to her lips. 


“I came for this, after all,” she whispered admittedly.


Flow’s lips parted. The head of the timburr’s cock slipped past them and onto the emolga’s tongue. Her lips then wrapped around the girth of his cock as her head sank slowly to swallow the stiff rod nearly to the hilt. As his cock slid along the length of her tongue, wrapped in sensual warmth, Fig’s jaw dropped. His head fell back as he felt his member sucked into moist pleasure.


“Uunh~” he moaned.


Flow paused. She took in a few needed breaths of air through her nose as she felt Fig’s cock twitch and harden inside. She felt Fig reach out with one hand to pet the back of her head, his three fingers squeezing her affectionately. Flow raised her eyes to peer back at him, but his head stayed comfortably rested upon the log, eyes shut, while his other hand now lay leisurely tucked over his belly. The sight of him now, blissful and caressing, fueled her passion in turn. Her eyes closed gently. Moments later, her head started to move. 


Fig’s breaths grew heavy as Flow bobbed upon his crotch. Her cautious locomotion gently pumped his girth through the squeeze of her lips again and again, seconds at a time. Her top incisors slightly raked as her tongue cupped right beneath. She tasted Fig’s seeping pre-cum on the back of said tongue as the hand on her head gripped with the rise of his pleasure. Before long, her caution fell to the wayside as she hit her stride. She embraced a primal urge to suck Fig’s cock in steady rhythm. 


“Uuun!” Fig kept his hand steady on Flow’s head, immensely enjoying the smooth, easy pace of her blowjob. “Yeah...j-just like that. Keep it up, Flow.” He rolled his hips to press his dick deeper in. “Uuunh...getting close!”


“Mmf!” Fig’s burst in enthusiasm startled Flow, who mistook it for another kind of burst. She paused for a moment, girding herself for his climax. Instead, they both stumbled into an awkward lull.


“Unh?” Fig opened his eyes as he unexpectedly teetered on the edge of release. He peered down to Flow, his face confused and quite needy. “Everything cool down there?”


Flow immediately realized her mistake.  She swallowed back down Fig’s cock in haste. The act proved so swift that the sensation shot Fig’s head right back against the log. 


“Uunh!” Fig, thrust right back into Flow’s sucking, clutched both his hands upon her head. “F-Fuck!”


Fig’s grip lustfully reeled Flow further into his arousal as he rushed to his peak. As the emolga noisily sucked off the timburr well past the point of no return, Fig pressed her head down, lifted his hips, and let out a loud, quavering moan as he finally came.


“Mmmfh!” Flow yelped into Fig’s cock as he ejaculated deep in her mouth with gush after gush of semen. As the hot, ropey, bitter taste gained volume by the spoonful, she acted fast to avoid coughing up a sticky mess over the both of them. As his seed globbed at the back of her throat, she repeatedly swallowed down the bitter substance The intense rush of it all made her tear up in the process . 


As Fig finally petered off and drooped over the edges of his log, Flow pulled back with a tight wrap of her lips around his girth. She rose up and stood upright to slip Fig’s cock out of her mouth one more time. 


As Fig gathered his bearings with deep breaths and seeped what remained of his climax from his receding tip, Flow’s paws covered her mouth. After quickly swirling her tongue to swallow down what remained, she dropped her paws from her lips to take in some heavy breaths. 


“Oh...I don’t think I could have ever prepared for that,” Flow sighed. She wiped her face clean. 


Her words caught Fig’s attention as he weakly propped up his back by his arms, visibly wiped. 


“Sorry about that,” Fig heaved. “But you felt good. Really good.”


Flow looked to Fig with a heated glow of her own. “Well...I started to get into it. Maybe that helped,” she admitted with a little smile.


“Sure did,” Fig returned. 


Fig leaned towards Flow to sit as he placed his hands down on the length of log in front of him. He smiled as he took in slow, normalizing breaths. 


“So, Flow, you still up for the real thing?”


The question gave Flow pause. She averted her gaze as the words drew a blush. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t, Fig...but we’d have to be careful. Really careful. If things got carried away...” Her words trailed off as she tapped her paws together, stopping short of the obvious.


“Oh...you don’t know?”


Flow turned back to Fig curiously. “Know what?”


“Well...I’m close enough for many things, but not for giving you an egg. Rodents and me...we just can’t do that.”


Flow raised a brow, but immediately furrowed it with instinctive doubt. “Fig, how’re you so sure?” she pressed, her voice bordering on an accusatory tone.


Fig paused in light of the shift in Flow’s mood. He gestured awkwardly with one hand: “I, uh...learned the hard way.”


Flow blinked. “What? You mean...Oh.”


Fig’s tone turned solemn. “Yeah, that happened. She wasn’t too happy about it, either.” Another pause. “I’d rather not talk about it, Flow. That wound’s pretty old.”


Flow’s lips curled into a frown. She felt like she just ripped the scab of that wound wide open. “I’m sorry, Fig.”


Fig sighed. “Forget it, Flow. You didn’t come here for my sob story.”


His hands reached out to Flow, caressing her small shoulders as she stood with him on his log. “You came to have company for the night. And I told you before: I aim to please.”


Flow glanced down between his legs. By now his erection had noticeably softened. “But Fig, won't you need help with that?” she asked. 


“Oh, you helped plenty,” Fig delightfully answered. “Why don’t you get comfortable and let me take the lead? I’ll get both of us ready.”


“Um...what did you have in mind?” Flow asked sheepishly.


“Show your back to me,” Fig instructed, as he lifted up his hands from her shoulders. “I’ll start with a nice massage.”


Flow gave a moment’s pause. In the next moment, she turned and sat down, her arms rested upon her legs. “Okay. But not too rough,” she said.


“You got it,” Fig replied, suave as ever.


The timburr shuffled in, reached down low, and then gently ran his hands up the emolga’s back. His gray fingers clutched and kneaded into the shoulder blades beneath her black pelt.  


“Aanh...” Flow tilted back her head. Even with gentle care, the lumber-lugging strength of Fig’s grasp worked her muscles deep. As they circled about, her long tail brushed up idly against his upper chest and chin, as if to draw him further in. And so he did, inching closer and closer, as his cheeks reddened and his blood ran hot.         


Flow’s round and sizable pair of ears lingered close to Fig’s lips. As he continued to massage, he cocked his head, leaned in to the lip of one ear, and took it into his mouth to nibble. Flow nearly jumped.


“W-What ar...aaan! Aaaanh!” Flow nearly lost control as the nibble coursed new pleasures rapidly through her body. She dipped her head down almost immediately to slip her ear out of Fig’s mouth. Her face turned red as a cherry, as Fig chuckled with delight.


“That’s so cute,” Fig remarked, beaming. 
  
“Don’t surprise me like that, Fig,” Flow whined. “I took a big leap just coming here.”


“Heh, yeah. And it won’t be the last time you come here,” Fig teased.


“Fig!” Flow’s blush turned deeper. 


“Sorry, but you walked right into that one.”


Fig ran his hands down her back. “Let’s step things up before I ruin the mood. Lie down for me?”


“No surprises!” Flow insisted.


“I think you know what I’m going to do,” Fig volleyed. His hands gave her a playful squeeze.  


Fig began to give her a little push to usher things along. Flow yielded, albeit apprehensively, and carried the momentum as she rolled her body down to lay prone on the squared log, her arms, legs, and flaps outstretched. Fig stayed in place as his hands ran further down Flow’s pelt, past the base of her tail, until they stopped to clutch upon her glutes. He paused to take in the view of her broad, petite backside, where her black pelt and white underbelly bordered a clean, curvy line around her crotch and butt. He spotted her pussy amidst the smooth, white fur beneath her anxiously swishing tail, her folds inviting and moist. 


The timburr couldn’t help himself. He fell quiet as he kneaded the emolga in the little mounds of flesh now presented to him. In the moment’s silence, he heard Flow’s breath grow heavy as she voiced her rising lust with the quietest of coos. He squeezed harder in turn as his blood rushed to rejuvenate his malehood anew.


“Ah! Not so hard, Fig,” Flow protested. 


Fig eased it a bit. “My bad. I don’t often get to squeeze buns as good as yours.”


“W-What?” Flow stammered. 


“You must cover a lot of ground on the job. You’re in great shape. These buns are tight!” Fig gushed as he massaged.


Flow burned up. “W-Well, um, thank you? No one’s talked like that about my butt before,” she admitted.


Fig chuckled. “Must be a fighting-type thing. We’re all about being fit.”


The timburr reached around to wrap his clutches around the emolga’s hips. With a knowing smirk, he began to reel her in with ease. The motion tensed Flow up as she felt her paws, flaps, and belly slide along the log.. The moment that she felt the hardened tip of Fig’s cock prod her sex gave her a gasp-inducing, petrifying jolt. 


“That was fast,” Fig remarked. He reached down, took hold of his member by the hilt, and stroked the head up and down along Flow’s vaginal lips. His other hand kept Flow steady by the hip. Flow’s breath stuttered as she felt mercilessly teased by Fig’s cock. Her mouth fell agape and her paws clenched wood as Fig indulged. 


“Aaa...aan...aanh...Fig!” Flow exhaled sharply.


“Yeah?” Fig replied. He kept stroking, his libido slowly withering away his restraint.


“Take it slow...I d-don’t want, aanh...to get hurt,” Flow pleaded between laboring breaths.


Fig fell quiet for a moment as his strokes paused. He let out a long breath to ease his nerves. He angled the tip of his cock by the hilt to aim it right upon her pussy.   His hands slinked up along her curves and ran seductively along her back as he rolled forward to cup his crotch to her rear. Flow’s heart thumped as Fig anchored his arms just past her head and gripped the edges of the squared log beneath. Fig’s weight now smooshed Flow between wood and flesh, his hips hovering above and ready to drop. He felt every tremble from her body, as well as heard every anxious breath from her lips. 


“I got you, Flow,” Fig assured, whispering in her ear, “But it might still hurt. Try to relax.”


Fig pressed down his hips. The head of his cock began to spread apart the lips of Flow’s pussy. Flow’s breath drew in fast and held as her body surged with tension from the timburr’s mount. Her eyes squeezed shut. Fig gritted his teeth as Flow’s sex squeezed tightly around him. And then, with the flex of his spine, his tip forced past the vaginal lips. As Flow’s orifice gave way, his shaft swiftly plunged its girth and length into Flow. Her pussy swallowed his cock in mere seconds, twitching crazily as Fig bottomed out and reeled from the engulfing pleasure.  


“Aaaaaaanh!” Flow immediately squealed. Her breath escaped her. She gulped what oxygen she could beneath Fig, now firmly spooned against her backside. The sensation of his stiff malehood twitching hilt-deep inside her assaulted her senses with a blur of pleasure and pain. She barely kept her composure as Fig dipped his head and gathered his bearings. 


“Uuunh. Flow, you okay?” Fig heaved.


“It...it still hurts,” Flow answered, struggling to be audible between breaths. 


Fig lifted a hand to console Flow with gentle petting on the back of her head. “Sorry, Flow,” he told her, “That part gets rough the first time around.”


After a few second’s pause, he put his hand back in place on the log’s edge. He leaned closer in to grind his hips against her backside.


“Aaah! Don’t move!” Flow exclaimed.


Fig immediately came to a stop. “Sorry,” he awkwardly apologized. “It’s, uh, hard not to move back here.”


He bowed his head and sighed. “You feel incredible.”


Flow lifted her head to peer up at Fig looming over her. She wore a pained frown. “I want to feel that way too, Fig.”


“Then I’ll stay slow, just like you asked,” Fig offered. “Trust me...it gets better if I do my thing.”


Flow dropped her head back down, taking a moment to mull things over. “Okay,” she finally answered, casting her gaze to the wood beneath her. “As long as you stay slow.”


“You got it,” Fig affirmed.


Now given the go-ahead, Fig resumed where he left off. The timburr kept his chest comfortably over the emolga beneath him as he stayed provocatively pressed against her backside. He listened for any sharp sound of protest from his partner as his crotch rubbed up and down against her velvety glutes. His girth slowly churned Flow from deep within, angled by his hilt stroking along her vaginal folds. The tight squeeze of her pussy amplified the feel of the grind for the both of them. Flow closed her eyes as well, but gritted her teeth, groaning as some first-time pain still lingered with the grind.


“Nnn...nnh...aan...”


Amidst Flow’s groans, she let slip a sound that was a touch more indulgent, just for a brief moment. The result of that audible pleasure took hold of her almost immediately. The next thing she knew, she felt a half-way pull of Fig’s shaft and an immediate, eased slide back in. 


“Aaanh!” The timburr’s little thrust got Flow’s attention. The way Fig’s cock glided back inside her with a soft tap of her buttocks shot pleasure through her backside that gained strength over her pain. Her tail shot up from the new sensation, whacking Fig in the face. 


“You liked that, huh?” Fig remarked, as he fell back to a grind. “I got more where that came from, if you want.”


“Aanh...Fig, you’re, aah...such a tease,” Flow accused. 


“Well, for me, girls always come first,” Fig quipped.


Flow groaned. She pleaded, “Fig! Stop dropping puns and do me already!”  


“You mean like I did just then?”


“Y-Yes! That felt good!”


Fig rumbled with delight. “Just what I wanted to hear.”


Fig gripped the log tighter as he breathed in preparation. With the flex of his spine, his hips began to sway back and forth.


“Aaanh!”


The timburr’s crotch tapped slowly, rhythmically, and provocatively against the emolga’s backside. Flow felt the smooth locomotion rock against her, pressing firm with each inward slide of his cock into her pussy. As Fig slid his member hilt-deep into Flow again and again, smooshing her into the wood beneath them, Flow’s breath quickly escaped her in one moan after another as she braced hard against the log. 


“Aaah...Aaan...Aaa...Aaan...Aaanh!”


Flow’s heat rose fast with escalating pleasure. She dropped her head and closed her eyes amidst her moans, her mind sinking into the hot sensations as Fig fucked her passionately and with clear indulgence. Fig’s breaths gained volume as Flow’s pussy voraciously squeezed every inch of his cock.  


As Flow’s head dropped, her big, round ears brushed against Fig’s chin. With heated breath, Fig dropped his jaw. He caught the outer edge of one ear between his teeth. Flow immediately seized up with a stuttering gasp.


“Fig! Th-That’s too-! Aaanh! Aaaaanh!” 


Flow squealed uncontrollably, electrified as Fig relentlessly nibbled her ear as he fucked. Unable to slip away, she drove the rocketing tension of her body into her limbs, paws, and spine. She clawed her digits into the wood, curled her back, and bent back her ankles as far as they could go. Her ass drove back hard into Fig’s crotch as it raised up against him. 


Flow’s ear quickly slipped back out of Fig’s mouth.“F-fuck, you’re hot,” Fig exclaimed in excited whispers as he looked down, his breath stolen away. 


“F...Fig...” Flow could barely string words together between her breaths, her mind nearly wiped. “I’m close...give it to me!”


Those pleading words set off Fig hard. “Uunh! Flow!”


The timburr dropped low. He took hold of the emolga’s paws and tucked them in beneath her chest. Before Flow realized what Fig planned to do, he wrapped his arms tight around the emolga’s waist and flaps, resting his chest upon her back. The strong hug pinched Flow by the hips and reeled her in fast against Fig’s crotch, eliciting a surprised yelp from her in the process. His fingers clutched her fur and flesh and his arms braced her backside as he channeled his raw strength and stamina to repeatedly plunge his drenched cock between her glutes. He huffed and perspired as he burned his energy, his lust for Flow reaching intoxicating heights.


“Anh! Aanh! Aan! Fig! Aaan! Aaanh! Aaan!”


Fig fell fast into an adrenaline rush, taking Flow right along with him. Flow rapidly gasped, her sultry body pulsing with pleasure from the amplified thrusts of Fig’s cock. Her pussy kept sucking him in as her cheeks sparked violently for a pent-up release of their own. 


“Flow! Getting close!” Fig warned.


“Do it, Fig!” Flow begged, drunk with pleasures of the carnal, “Fill me!” 


“Fuck!” Flow’s words toppled Fig’s libido right over the edge. In one last, final drive to hit his peak, Fig banged Flow hard and fast into the log beneath them. Flow’s mouth dropped into prolonged cries of unfathomable lust as Fig pumped her for every ounce of pleasure they could take, ravenous for the climax now rushing fast towards them. In the few seconds that remained, Flow’s voice rose fast in pitch.


Finally, Fig clutched her with all his strength. He groaned loudly, preluding his explosive release as he hilted her right down to his testicles. His load ejaculated from the tip of his hard, twitching cock, spurting hot globs of semen right at the gate of her womb, flooding vagina and uterus alike with blast after blast of his seed. 


“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanh!”


Flow cried out long and hard as her body seized and exploded in orgasm, climaxing right along with Fig. Her pussy twitched and squeezed Fig’s cock for every drop and flushed it all over with a hot release of her fluids. As every muscle tensed and quivered, her body live with discharge, her ass pressed back hard against Fig’s crotch, sucking every inch of him in and coursing a powerful shock through his dick that reeled Fig hard with pain and pleasure alike. Their combined fluids splashed back from her pussy, dripping into a hot mess down her legs and upon the log.


As the moment finally passed, the both of them crumbled together, down against the log. Flow dropped completely to her stomach and continued to weakly gasp and tremble, awash in pleasure, as Fig loosened his grip and dropped his arms to the sides. He laid his weight right upon her as he gathered his bearings, his erection slowly receding as he stayed cupped against her. Their fluids pooled beneath their joined crotches, oozing over the edges of the log and upon the stone floor.


“Uuun...”


His energy massively drained, Fig focused what little strength remained in him to pull his hips back. His cock plopped out of Flow, letting a good amount of his seed seep out from her. In the next moment, he slipped his weight over to the side. His body fell off the log and landed on the hard floor with an ‘oof’. He rolled over onto his back, arms flat to the sides, an exhausted, hot mess all over. He brought up one hand to his chest as he peered over to the worn rodent in afterglow, still prone and shuddering on the log.


“Hey,” he softly called to her.


Flow quietly turned her head and peered down at him, still recovering from the sex.


“You’re cute when you’re satisfied,” Fig remarked. 


Flow sighed pleasantly. “Fig...that was amazing,” she cooed. 


“You look like you really needed that, too.”


Flow shifted her gaze. “Well...I’m not used to time off.”


Fig chuckled. “Workaholic?”


“You could say that,” Flow murmured.


“Well, I’m glad you took a break with me,” Fig teased. “I bet a night like this beats worrying about a curfew.”


Flow’s eyes widened with a gasp. “What time is it?!” she suddenly demanded.


“Uh, heck if I know. You see a clock around here? I can tell you it’s late,” Fig answered.


“The gates still close at curfew!” Flow fretted. “If I don’t get going, they’ll lock me out!”


“Are you serious? I say screw that noise,” Fig suggested. “You’re more than welcome to spend the night here.”


Fig rolled and reached up to the edge of his log. He pulled up his weight to look to Flow. He cupped one of her paws with one hand, eliciting a blush on her face. 


“My bed’s always open for you,” Fig offered.


Flow’s fretting withered as Fig’s warm, welcoming aura eased her nerves. As they looked to each other, their faces slowly drew closer. 


“Okay, Fig,” Flow replied, “We’ll see.”


They closed the distance with a kiss.

THE END