Juvenalas Penitatas
Lesson 17 – Haunted By The Past

Morning came after a night of fitful sleep. Talek's dreams had been unwelcome ones, the nine-year-old lizard boy tossing and turning as his mind mixed together a foul concoction of unhappy memories and imagined evils. Feeling sick, he came to wakefulness with an unhappy pout upon his green-scaled features, and his blue pyjamas clammy with sweat.
Eyes half open, Talek gazed at the fellow Penny beside him. Rilka was still, her eyes closed, with a vague frown upon her features. “You awake?” Talek whispered.
A growl came in reply. “Of course I'm awake, you've been thrashing about all night! Let me at least get half an hour before school!”
“Sorry,” he whimpered in reply. Just another thing to feel bad about today.
All too soon a parent entered the room, slowly bringing up the lights to counteract the early morning gloom. “Rise and shine, my little terrors!” Liki sang as she came over to the bed. Rilka's frustrated groans redoubled. “Oh, someone's a grump this morning!”
“Talek kept me awake!”
With focus now on him, the boy let his head hang low. “I... I had nightmares. Really bad ones.”
Liki settled on the edge of the circular bed, raising an arm to offer a cuddle that Talek gladly accepted. “Tell me about them.”
“It... wasn't really anything... I don't know. I don't remember. I just know it was bad.”
“Well they're just dreams, Talek. They can't hurt you. I bet you'll feel much better after breakfast and some fresh air.”
The boy's eyes flicked over to Rilka, who wore her frustration clearly. “Mom... can we maybe stay home today?”
“We don't keep you home just because you're pouting,” came the answer, with her previously pleasant tone now taking the first hint of a 'Penny Parent' tone.
Keeping his focus on Rilka, the boy persisted. “It's not just tonight, mom. I need to... I don't know how to talk about them. Can I... can we stay home and maybe... Rilka can help me make sense of things? Help me figure out how to talk to you?”
Liki turned to inspect Rilka, who's anger at being robbed of sleep now turned to quiet anxiety. “Where has this come from?” Liki asked. “You seemed to be doing much better after you won back your House peers with the Iron Stomach context.”
“I know, but...” the boy bit his lip, huffing with the effort of trying to settle the emotions that twisted his insides. “it came back. Maybe it's because Isabelle's been weird lately, or... I don't know!” the final cry came with a petulant yelp of impotence, as his teenage mind crashed into the walls of a child's ability to process emotion.
Rising slowly to her feet, Liki looked towards Rilka and made a quick-flick gesture to the bed. “Take care of your morning needs, then hop back into bed. Talek, I'm going to hold you to your request. We'll give you time and space this morning, but if we think you've just been crying wolf to slack off school then you will be a sorry little boy. Is that clear?”
“Yes, mom. Thank you, mom,” Talek answered with slow, deliberate nods of acceptance. He noted with a pang of frustration that Liki activated the panopticon after leaving the room, the glass windows looking out into the hall instantly turning into mirrors. The room's lights dimmed and shut off shortly after.
“Sorry I snapped at you, Talcum,” Rilka offered her apology as she climbed back into bed. The girl wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, sighing as she found a comfortable position once more. “I'm all ears. Tell me about your nightmares.”
“In a minute, okay? I just... I need a little time.”
She accepted the answer with a nod, but added with a cautious tone, “don't take too long. You know mom and dad don't make idle threats.”
Talek let his eyes slide closed. “Do you think they'd let us catch up on sleep first? It'd be nice to have another hour.”
“You do you. I'll try not to fall asleep.”
The boy didn't risk an hour. He likely never truly fell back to sleep, simply trying to keep his mind clear as waves of drowsiness came and went, each time bringing with them shards of recollection, or freshly conjured concerns. “I've been thinking about my mom and dad. My birth-parents, I mean,” Talek confessed at last.
“Mm? Wassat?” he felt Rilka stir, guessing she might have drifted off during his silence.
“My birth-parents. Every time I think about my life before, it all feels so strange now. Things that used to make sense don't when I think back. It's like... I used to think mom really cared about me. Now it's so obvious she never did...”
Rilka pulled herself closer, rewarding the confession with a cuddle but choosing not to speak. Sighing, as the act helped ease some of his anxiety, Talek pressed on. “I don't think I ever told you how I wound up here, did I? As a 'JP' I mean.”
“No. Mom and dad will have been told, maybe some of the teachers as well, but I was kept in the dark.”
“That's something else I keep thinking about. I was so stupid that day! Trying to impress some kid I barely knew just to make myself feel like a big man!”
“Maybe that's a good place to start?” Rilka prompted.
Talek tried to nod, but ended up just nuzzling his pillow. “Sure. I know your history, sort of. Only fair you know mine.”

A sixteen year old Talek stepped into the cool, bright interior of the Grand Market as he had countless times before. It was a vast commercial space with its main building flanked by big-brand stores, but this central area was distinct. The words that had been drummed into his mind since starting school rose to the forefront of his thoughts automatically; “the Grand Market is a place where any Karrian with passion, drive, and entrepreneurial spirit can participate in commerce!” He sneered at the propaganda as he wove through the odd-shaped allotments, passing a furniture restoration company, a hairdressing salon, a pop-up restaurant, and many more eclectic services besides.
His destination was a vacant lot, which had been converted into a rest area. The floor space was dominated by benches, while the walls sported various government-issue posters. Most bore basic slogans, such as “Keep the Market Tidy” or “Security is everyone's concern – report suspicious items or individuals”. One especially caught Talek's eye; it showed a smiling couple with a child of around eight or nine between them. The little lizard boy had his right paw raised to display the “P” on the back. The slogan of the poster read, “Teach your kindern the meaning of discipline! Sign up for the Penitatas Placement Program today!”
Recalling that program sent a shudder through Talek's spine. He had been ten, or thereabouts, and had lived with a penitatas named Dalad, who had spent the whole week either describing the nightmarish punishments he'd endured as a penitatas, or getting on the receiving end of them. At the time, his mother had insisted it was necessary, that all kindern had to do it. Afterwards, she'd told him it had actually been his father's idea, and she'd never wanted him to go.
His mother had been arrested and sentenced four years ago. A part of him, a part he tried not to listen to, wondered if that had been a lie. Shaking himself free from such thoughts, Talek focused on the boy sat alone at one of the benches. He was ten years old, named Iven, and had been drawn to Talek because of playground rumours. Iven had heard Talek was a bold explorer – nay, a master burglar! He wanted desperately to join Talek on such an adventure, and the idea of being worshipped had massaged the teenager's ego no end.
“You ready to go then?” Talek asked, pulling a claw free of his maroon coat's pocket to scratch a nail through his ragged hair.
“Yeah, I'm ready! Where're we going?” Iven asked, full of energy.
The older lizard boy gave a dismissive shrug. “I dunno. Maybe I know a place, might be worth checking out.” In reality he'd scoped the building out two days ago, but he felt that admitting to having a plan would ruin the image he desperately wanted to cultivate. He flicked his head towards the door to the bus depot. “Come on, we'll grab a ride.”
For good measure, he palmed a chocolate bar from the sweet stand on the way past. His mother had taught him how to do it – and turned on him every time he got caught. “Kids can get away with things like that,” she'd said. “Better you take the heat. With you, it's a silly mistake. For an adult, it's more serious.”
The petty theft was recognised only when Talek munched on his stolen goods at the bus stop, earning the kind of awe he'd hoped for. Iven was his now – sold heart and soul by Talek's roguish persona. Praise, and thus validation would follow.

The abandoned building lay on the far side of town. Such places rarely stayed vacant for long, typically only standing empty for a month or two before a new business moved in, or their core function was changed. This tower, on the other hand, had once belonged to an interstellar company who had left it untouched for almost a year. A boarded fence surrounded the building, promising a future renovation that had never materialised.
Walking with a subtle swagger, Talek's eyes followed the sculpted curves of the building until he found the tell-tale mark he'd noticed on his prior visit. “Here,” he nodded to a piece of wall that looked little different to any other. “See the window there? Panel's missing. We go up and over the wall and get in that way.”
“Looks too tall to me,” Iven protested, but Talek was having none of it.
“I'll boost you. Unless you're too scared?”
“I-I'm not scared!” the boy blurted out as expected. Grinning, Talek made a stirrup with his claws and hurled the younger lad upwards. There was a brief, frantic scrabbling as Iven almost went clean over, but he found purchase and managed to get his fingers onto the ledge below the window.
“Hurry the hell up! You'll get us caught!” Talek snarled up at the boy. Eventually, he made the jump across and landed with his belly on the ledge, then shuffled through the gap.
Talek went after, no faster and with no less loss of dignity. Once inside, he dropped low and grabbed Iven by the wrist, dragging him into the corridor and further toward the building's interior. “We need to get out of sight! Up the stairs!”
The dart across the abandoned atrium had Talek's heart hammering. While the curtain walls erected outside blocked vision, the vast glass frontage offered plenty of opportunities for chance observation. He kept Iven moving at a brisk pace until they reached the elevators, where he pushed the button several times.
“I don't think they have power,” Iven said cautiously, nodding towards the button's lack of illumination.
The teenage lizard bit back a curse, “I know that! I just hoped it might open so we could see the machinery inside. Let's find the stairs, they should be around here somewhere.”
For safety reasons, all internal locks were disabled and thus the pair were able to easily push through to the stairwell and ascend. By the fourth they had cleared the atrium completely, and Talek led his young companion along a windowless interior corridor towards the back of the building. This floor had more clear signs of life, with notes scribbled directly onto walls and locked boxes placed around by demolition or removal teams. As they returned to another set of stairs and went higher the signs of work became more overt; up on the seventh floor entire sections of wall had been partially or entirely removed, leaving only the structural supports and load-bearing sections in place.
“This is where you get the cool stuff,” Talek's words echoed along the corridor as he stopped in front of a glass door covered in warning stickers.
Iven made a nervous little noise at seeing the words DANGER and STRUCTURALLY UNSOUND repeated so frequently. “Shouldn't we go back down?”
“Go if you're too scared, but I'm going forward!” He tried the door, but it was one of the few that were locked. A brief bit of doubling back found a convenient sledgehammer, and a few two-handed swings at the door's panel created a passage for the pair, leaving the floor covered in a thousand blunted cubes of toughened glass that crunched beneath their feet.
The space beyond was vast and spartan, with multiple interior walls taken down to leave nought but bare cables. Using the hammer like the world's worst walking stick, Talek stepped around a free-standing door frame devoid of its door and into what must have once been a sizeable office. The glass windows of the back wall were mostly covered by pale yellow protective sheets, but enough light still filtered in to see clearly. Close to the former entrance of the room, bright orange cones and  hazard-striped tape had been used to form a barrier around a section of missing floor panel, which Talek crept towards. The floor creaked and groaned as he moved, making his stomach churn, but he found a firmer patch by side-stepping and walking in line with the hole's edge. Support beams could be seen framing the hole, which he guessed might once have held some kind of multi-floor machinery, certainly something worth the time and effort of dismantling and hauling away. The floor below was in even worse condition than this one, with multiple gaps visible.
Turning slowly, Talek saw that Iven was still in the corridor, clinging tightly to a solid-looking pipe. “Get over here and take a look!” he called to the younger boy, beckoning with his free claw.
“It... it doesn't look safe!” Iven squeaked through a trembling jaw.
“Don't be such a wuss! Get over here! Come on!”
Iven slunk forwards, but came to a trembling halt the moment his paws left the comforting touch of the wall. Rolling his eyes, Talek began to make a few wind-up swings with the hammer. “Look, just walk along the beam in the floor! It's right there!” He let the hammer fly.
The sledgehammer didn't travel far, at least not horizontally. It hit the floor panel Iven stood on with a dull thud, which became a loud, grating roar as it's head sank from view. An eyeblink later, the entire panel was gone. Its neighbours followed, by which time Talek's brain had just begun to register he had made a monumental fuck-up. His legs locked, refusing to budge as a second floor panel gave way, causing a cascade collapse that, mercifully, ended mere seconds after it began. Even so, Talek now found himself stood with a drop to his left and rear, and with little confidence in any other part of the floor bar the exact spot where he stood.
All of this had happened in, at most, fifteen seconds. The boy's brain had locked in absolute terror the moment the collapse began, and now information was filtering in by order of priority: his ear-slits burned with the effort of listening for sounds of further structural collapse, with his higher functions appending “pissed off security guards” to the list of potential disasters to watch for. His eyes were likewise watching, darting back and forth across the floor in search of a safe path. His recent memories hastily reconstructed his path to try and identify the precise moment he had transitioned from creaking floor to solid ground.
It took another fifteen seconds for one of these many internal voices to finally grab his conscious mind's attention. Iven was missing.
Talek dropped to his hands and knees, crawling along the length of floor he trusted not to break. “Iven?” he called, at first a strangled whisper, but then again louder, “Iven, where are you?”
He knew the answer already, it had just been stuck in the backlog. Finally feeling 'safe' enough to think of something other than imminent potential death, the memory of Iven's fall played back in hellish slow motion. The boy had fallen with the first panel. He'd not even had time to scream.
Daring to peer over the edge, what Talek saw made his head swim in a near-terminal bout of vertigo. Iven was two floors down atop a pile of rubble, lying in a dark pool of blood with his legs bent at awful angles. Talek found himself unable to look away, gripped by a morbid horror at what he saw. A part of him refused to believe it was real, as he couldn't accept a boy that small could bleed such a vast amount in so small a space of time.
Forcing his eyes closed, Talek wrenched himself back from the edge and began to hyperventilate. Absolute, mind-destroying terror enveloped him, a fear worse than any he'd ever known. He had no idea how long he lay there, screaming internally, sobbing outwardly, until a single coherent thought lanced through the fog of hysteria. He had to get help!
It took a few more precious seconds to remember his comm-pad existed, yet that itself posed a further issue. Who to call? He didn't want to dial the emergency services because they were trespassing, and he'd been given enough cautions from the police already. If he called them now, they'd arrest him for murder!
Talek gave one last look at the broken child below. Was he dead? If he wasn't, he would be by the time someone else found him. Resolved, Talek did the only thing he could. Even if it took him four times to correctly dial the three-number code for the ambulance service. A lifetime later someone answered. “Please state the nature of the medical emergency.”
“I-I'm in the old Yoshada building, on Windling Road! My friend fell! I- I- I think he's dead!”
“Okay, take a deep breath. What's your name?”
“T-Talek Nodaro.”
“Are you hurt, Talek? Are you safe?”
“Not hurt, no. Iven fell through the floor!”
“Try to remain calm, Talek. Emergency teams are on the way. Are you with Iven now?”
“No! He fell!” Terror was consuming the boy, making coherent thought and speech more difficult with every passing moment.
“Alright, take a deep breath. Are you safe where you are?”
The teenage Karrian nodded, only to remember he wasn't on a vid-call. “Yes, I'm... well... I'm on the floor where he fell though. By the hole. He fell two floors down!”
Through a growing fog of shock, Talek became aware of the distinctive hum and flash of a transport occurring. Two medical teams materialised, one in the hall outside of his location, the other two floors down. Talek barely registered what was said to him, and only shifted his focus away from Iven when he felt adult paws touch him. “It's okay, we're here to help.”
From below, Talek heard a call, “He's alive, but his condition is critical. We can't risk a transport!”
“Understood,” the medic next to Talek replied. “Control, we've got the elder kindern. No sign of physical injury, but definitely in shock. Recommend we spare him the transport; send a shuttle once the critical patient is secure.”

Back in the present, nestled under thick, warm blankets, Talek nevertheless felt a cold shudder pass through his body as he finished recounted that terrible day. Rilka's cream-scaled snout a mask of quiet awe. “What happened to Iven? Did he survive?”
“Yeah, but he was still in hospital when I got my court summons and that was a month after the incident. I had to answer questions in the hospital; the police were gentle with me, accepting my story without fuss. But afterwards he said something like, 'when people have a traumatic experience they can forget things, or become confused about the details. Try to think about that day a little more, see if you can recall anything else'. He knew my first version was a lie.”
“What did you lie about?”
“I told him at first that it was Iven's idea to go there, that I'd been trying to stop him. In the end, he said that they would have to ask for Iven's version of events when he recovered, and asked me if I thought he'd remember it the same way I did. I just broke down and started crying. The rest you already know – took a deal to get these letters.”
With a caring smile upon her snout, Rilka leaned in to plant a tender kiss upon Talek's forehead. “Thanks for sharing your past with me. Feels nice to be trusted with that.”
The pair fell back into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional rumble of an empty stomach. The debate was had through smiles, glances and subtle shuffling as to whether they ought to stay put and wait for a parent, or risk leaving the bedroom on their own initiative. In the end, Talek decided to risk it, with Rilka following close behind. They were just a hair away from touching the door when it slid open, causing the pair to jump in surprise as their father greeted them. “Good timing, I was just coming to check on you. I suppose you want breakfast?”
The meal was had without fuss. Liki and Shon sat with their charges, though neither ate themselves. “How are you feeling?” their mother asked softly, as kind and concerned as she had been that morning.
Talek made sure to swallow his cereal before speaking. “I feel a bit better now. I guess I'm just carrying a lot of guilt around.”
Shon tapped the table to draw the boy's attention. “You know what might help with that? A bit of exercise. I was about to go out and chop some wood so we can have the fire on, and I was hoping you'd volunteer to lend me a hand?”
“Do I have to?”
“No. Like I said, it's voluntary. But I'd appreciate it, Talek.”
The boy's attempt to hide his disdain for the idea was beyond sub-par, but he relented all the same. “I guess I will then,” he grumbled, and let his father take him back upstairs to put on some warm clothes. Rilka, meanwhile, was much more diplomatic in her own volunteering, agreeing to clean and tidy the Penny Room and related chores with her mother.
Once outside, Talek waited by the wood pile as Shon unlocked the shed. It had a physical lock as well as a palm-reader, with the structure itself made of a grey, modern composite that was strongly contrasted with the rest of Northrock's rustic aesthetic, and doubly so for the traditional wooden wood-shed next to it. He emerged wearing sturdy gloves and carrying his axe, with a second, smaller pair of gloves for Talek. “Pick a log for me,” he said after tossing the gloves over, gesturing to the wood-shed with his axe. Talek put a chunk of bark-ringed wood on the chopping block and stood well back, knowing from experience how the wood could fly. The axe whistled through the air and struck with a hard CLOP sound, sending two halves tumbling away. Gesturing with the axe, Shon indicated for Talek to put one half back on the block. Each was in turn cut through, and Talek dutifully put the quarters on a nearby rack.
“What is it you're not saying, Talek?” the question made the boy startle, even if it was asked quite calmly. “You've got that curl to your snout like there's something rancid on your tongue. Why not spit it out?”
“I was just thinking... were you listening to us in the bedroom?”
“Yes we were.” The openness of the answer caught Talek flat-footed.
“Do you... often listen to us like that?”
“On occasion, if we think we need to. But not always. I'm sure you know by now there are layers to your confinement, Talek; floor sensors that can alert us to you getting out of bed, bio-monitors that can be attached to read your mental states, that sort of thing. In this case we chose to listen because you've struggled to tell us about problems before, and it seemed the kinder choice to eavesdrop and step in as needed.”
“Oh. Well. You already knew about my past, right?”
“Yes we did. But I would still have liked to hear it from you. It's often beneficial to a penitatas if they can be open about their crimes, and how they feel about them. I think it's a good sign you're feeling guilt over what you did, even if it makes you feel awful right now.”
Talek accepted the answer with a slow nod as he put another log in place. This time when he stood back, Shon instead turned to him. “Do you want to have a go at cutting this one?”
The boy's eyes fixed immediately on the axe head. “Am I allowed?”
“It's not like I'm letting you keep it, Talek!” Shon laughed. “Here, try take a good grip with both hands.”
It was heavier than Talek expected. Shon patiently explained how to grip the tool, talking through the importance of edge alignment when cutting, and how if done right the axe itself would do most of the work. The boy's first swing was terrible, the axe glancing clean off and sending the log tumbling with barely a chip taken out, but Shon patiently reset the log and encouraged Talek to try again, and again, with each strike coming closer to success. It took four before the axe bit, after which Shon helped free it, and by the sixth the log was in two halves. It wasn't clean, but it was cut. “Good first effort,” Shon said as he put the larger half back on the block. “Now, let's split this one like before.”
With each swing, Talek grew in confidence. They never broke in one hit, but they were breaking. He began to pant with effort, sweat clinging to his under shirt despite the coolness of the morning, but he kept chopping regardless. He had done enough for a fire, but his father continued to place logs on the block. “Feels good, doesn't it?”
“Yeah,” Talek answered with a nod as he flexed his arms and lined up the axe for the next strike.
“Feels like you're doing something worthwhile,” Shon continued. “You know the logs are going to be used inside, burned to give our home that warm glow and pleasant scent. Feels like there's a purpose to it.”
Letting the axe head lower to the ground, Talek glanced toward his father. “I guess? I mean, it's not like we need the fire, right?”
Shon shrugged. “Depends on your definition of 'need', Talek. We have more modern ways to keep the house warm, but I think it adds something to the place. There's a comfort to fire you don't get from a thermal unit. So I suppose it's tending to a more esoteric need.”
The boy considered the answer for a time. “Like... how we had a faire after the New Years punishments?”
“That's a similar idea, yes. You wouldn't die from lack of fairground rides or stalls, but you would be that little more miserable. Part of what keeps a Penny going is hope, you see; hope there's something better to look forward to when all the harshness and misery is gone. It's not always easy. You're lucky in a way; you won't have to deal with the cruelty of cycles. In a few years, Rilka's going to be up for parole. I doubt she'll get it. Best our cream-cake can hope for is soft time. I think she'll take that well, but I worry the courts will hand down another cycle of hard time instead. That will break the poor girl's heart.”
“I... I could still get hard time myself, couldn't I?” Talek's voice cracked at the question, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes.
Shon's paw closed on the axe handle, pulling it from the whimpering boy's grip while hugging him with the other arm. “Not if I have anything to say about it. The last thing anyone here wants is for you to fail that badly. We want to see you wearing 'C's in six years time!”
Yet Talek struggled to let go of the dark thread he'd grasped. “I hate being a Penny! I hate getting scolded and spanked and... and the rest! But it's going to get even worse for me, isn't it? I'm going to be the only thirteen year old P-Penny! I'll s-still be a Penny at fifteen! I... I don't know what that's... I don't...”
Shon let him sob. Sometimes, that's all a parent had to do; hold their rejuve and let them work through their pain themselves. The old-fashioned approach to healing. The green-scaled man, a darker shade than the tearful boy, waited for the emotional flood to ebb away before softly addressing it, “This is good. Now we know what's eating you up inside, we can see about how we might fix it. There are options open to us, Talek; the first is we can request a parole hearing at twelve, like most Pennys would get. If that went well you'd get your letters three years early! But if not, we can look into what exactly it is you're fearful of about being an 'old Penny'.”
“I'll stand out,” the boy answered. “I'll be different to everyone else. Older. And it'll feel weird.”
“You're talking about puberty?” Talek nodded. “Well, there are things that can be done to delay that a little, but there's no avoiding the fact you'd be an older boy. Well, no way other than to make sure you get that parole! The only advice I can offer right now, without looking into the matter further, is for you to work extra hard on making your record look good. Your judicial spanking hasn't ruined your chances! I've seen it before when a Penny screwed up badly enough to cop one of those, and yet they still made their paroles as expected. But that can only happen to a boy who wants to change, who works at proving they've learned from their mistakes and won't repeat them. Can you be that boy, Talek?”
“I'll try.”
The simple answer made Shon smile. “That's all we can ask for. Now, do you want to keep chopping?”
Talek raised the axe once more, and raised it again several times over. By the time he was done they had over a week's worth of wood stockpiled in the shed, and Talek proudly brought in some of his own-cut pieces with which to warm the living room. Sighing with relief at unloading the wood, he flopped onto the warm, fluffy rug beside Rilka, who playfully sniffed him before recoiling in disgust. “Yeesh! You need a shower, Talcum! You're sweating like a pig!”
“I thought you liked me sweaty!” the boy protested.
“No, mom likes you sweaty.”
Liki added her own correction as she walked past. “Mom likes her little girl sweaty, and unless said little girl wants to lose bathing privileges for a fortnight she'll watch how she describes her brother!”
Rilka clamped her paws across her snout. “S-sorry! I... I'm going to get spanked now, aren't I?” she asked with a groan.
“That sounds like a good idea. Talek, your father will give you a bath while I warm Rilka's bottom. Bring some toys down with you when you're done so you two can play.”
The promised bath was warm and soothing, the water helping to massage the muscles that had begun to ache from the morning's hard labour. The boy let his eyes drift closed and savoured the feeling of strong hands scrubbing the sweat away, little caring now at being nude in front of his parents after it having happened so many times. “I wouldn't mind chopping wood again,” he offered as Shon finished rinsing the soap from the boy's hair.
“Volunteering for chores, are we?” his father chuckled. “I like that.”
As Talek was hoisted out of the bath, Shon added, “Rilka's probably staying bare for a bit. How about we leave you in your scales as well?” As if sensing the tingling the question caused in the boy's loins, Shon's finger tickled the seam across the boy's sac. “that's not an invitation to use this. Well, at least not to completion.”
A hot blush formed on Talek's snout, but more shameful was how his little member began to stiffen. “So we can... snuggle?”
“Snuggling is okay. Finishing is not. No popping without permission,” he scolded Talek's twitching penis, rather than the boy's face.
Giggling childishly despite the warning, Talek asked for their action figure playset to be brought down, and true to Shon's prediction found a nude, sulking Rilka waiting for him, sniffling in the corner of the room while Liki tended to the fire. The girl's tail was raised high so her reddened backside was plainly visible, and while he didn't savour her suffering, he did enjoy the sight of those cheeks. The toy forgotten, Talek wandered over to the corner, slipping in next to Rilka against the wall. His paw closed around hers and gave it a squeeze. “Thought you might like some company.”
“Thanks,” she sniffled in reply, grinning warmly at his kind gesture.
Liki called out, gently chiding the pair, “snouts forward and no talking. You know how corner time works.”
He may have brought it on himself, but the grateful glint in Rilka's eyes made the corner time worth it. Neither parent seemed to mind they kept their claws clasped together all the while, nor that their tails kept brushing up against the other.
Besides, Talek reasoned to himself, volunteering for a little extra corner time had to look good on his record, right?