Warm Strangers
by
Andrija Popovic

Emkharnen Micole Khemarrica of Palmarrica, known to most as Micole, stirred as she dreamed of flying past a distant star. No spacecraft protected her as she sailed through the dark. She felt warm, an improbable breeze ruffling her white fur and blowing her mane of black-tipped silver hair back from her face like a comet's tail.

The star beside her was a young one with a rather unremarkable yellow-orange tint in it corona. It spat an arc of plasma as she flew near, watching one of the sun's companions orbit closer to her. A supergiant rushing around the star in a tight orbit. Micole's naked feet tingled as she flew past, dipping her toes into the gaseous planet's upper atmosphere and leaving behind a streak of fire.

She skipped on a few asteroids until the supergiant's twin came into view. Further from the sun, it carried a flock of planetoids with it. Moons with atmospheres, shepherding gases and ice into glimmering rings, circled around the motley ball of blue-green vapor. Near the third moon, a rumpled green sphere, a light flickered.

Space puckered, as if some giant finger punched through it, leaving a whirlpool of blue energy. Micole sailed close to the disturbance. She didn't quite know why, just that it was important and, after all, she could do it. The whirlpool swirled out into her universe, carrying with it a spacecraft.

The design was familiar and alien at once, adhering to the basic needs of space flight yet doing so in a way Micole didn't recognize. Conventional fusion engines blurred into odd, arch-like structures surrounding the rear of the ship. Windows dotted the craft, as did small, sinister bulges along it's massive wings. She wondered if it was an exploration ship.

Micole ran her fingers along the hull, unable to tell if it was metal, ceramic or some odd hybrid of both. Behind her, the whirlpool vanished and the spacecraft launched itself at the giant. Before she could blink, the wings had unfurled large net-like devices and the craft dive-bombed the atmosphere, eating the slurry of methane, hydrogen and helium. A whisper of ammonia covered her and she found herself inside the spacecraft.

Not within the corridors, or hatchways, but within the craft itself. She could feel the crew moving about. On the bridge, pilots murmured about vectors and gravity polarizers. Within the crew quarters, two lovers entwined, hands moving to caress growing erections. One of the showers began to run, recycling the water as soon as it hit the stall floor.

She focused on one room in particular, finding herself floating inside it, watching as it's occupant peered out at the stars. Gold fur streamed down his body, vanishing beneath a rumpled bedclothes. He leaned against the window and watched his breath fog the transparency.

Then he turned, his feline muzzle protruding from a mane of deep golden hair, and looked into Micole with sea green eyes. The bedclothes fell to the floor, a discarded skin, leaving his sex naked and slowly swelling as he stepped closer. She shivered, actually feeling his fingers brush against her cheek.

And then she awoke, flatfur curled around her and purring softly, as her own pelt shimmered light pink. She panted and ran her hand across her chest, feeling her breasts swell with arousal. A voice in the back of her mind said something about getting up, checking the time, the sultry tingle around her areola demanded attention. He remained in her mind, mane flowing down across his muscular chest, sex flowing to full erection, touch blazing on her skin.

Micole inhaled, smelling him, as if she was close enough to reach out with her tongue and caress the dark nipples hidden by his golden fur. Eyes still closed, she caressed her growing breasts, feeling the normally hidden globes rise as arousal filled her. With each massage, each long caress of the soft globes she pictured a rivulet of lifemilk dripping from her teat onto the stranger's warm and waiting tongue.

With each stroke, each insistent fondling, her nipples tightened into sensitive peaks, the light wisps of fur surrounding the areola shimmering as they touch the puckering skin. Running her hands down across her belly, she pulled the flatfur away from her moist hunger and spread her legs wide, one foot propped up on the bowl-shaped bed's rim. She closed her eyes and he was there, watching her splay herself open.

Micole hadn't realized how much the dream aroused her until her tail's fingertips touched her sopping neither regions. Tracing the edges of her lips, her tailfingers dampened quickly, dew collecting on her fur and thighs. She parted herself. The tailfingers kneaded her pink neitherlips for ages before she slid her clitoral hood between two fingers, drawing them up and down the sensitive nub's sides while pressing the third tailfinger inside herself with a wet squelch.

Electric warmth crackled inside her sex. She arched her back, pressing herself onto her tailfinger, as if trying to swallow them inside her. Her footpaws grasped one of the bed-nest's pillows and squeezed. Micole moaned as a line of fire swam from her nipples, down her belly and between her thighs. She rubbed her throbbing pearl, doubling the speed and intensity with each pass.

Behind her eyelids, she focused on the image of the phantom man in her dream. She watched his green eyes as they gazed into her. A shiver crossed her as the bedclothes fell away from him again and again, baring his thick sheath and swelling member. Micole opened her mouth and inhaled, picturing her lips and tongue sliding across the pink phallus, drawing it within her.

One of the flatfurs, bred for massage, nuzzled her arm. She quickly grabbed it, planting it on her erect tits and holding it against her breasts with both arms. The fur's low thrum penetrated her, matching the thrusts of her tailfingers as warmth dripped from her damp neither regions. She squeezed, fingers digging through the fur into the softness of her bosom.

Cupping the bottom of her breasts, she brought her nipples close to her muzzle and gently licked them, her tongue catching on the edge of her areola. Unbound pleasure fogged her vision and she pondered digging up one of her favorite dildos when the walls of her sex clenched together with a sloppy, wet squelch. Her breath hissed through her teeth in short pants, quickly transforming into deep moans as her fur shimmered.

Micole's color shifted, from light pink to deeper purple before finally exploding in a flash of blinding light as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure danced across her body like lightning bolts. Wanton moans sprang from her mouth, ricocheting around the room. Afterwards, all she could hear was the beating of her heart and all she could feel was her clitoris throbbing against her soaked tailfingers.

Churring softly, she tugged her flatfur down onto her sex, pressing it against her wet lips. The fur drank in her wetness like a sponge. Lifting her tailfingers to her lips, she cleaned them with small, gentle licks. Beside her, a mound of pillows stirred and her brother Jhonnathan's black and white furred head poked through.

"You finished?" he asked, voice heavy with thirty-six hours worth of hyperspace lag. Micole winced and checked the time. It was early. Really early. Sunrise was a while away,

"Yeah..for now," she said.

"You sure?" he asked again.

"Yes," she said, dumping a flatfur atop his head. "No go to sleep. Tomorrow's a big day." Jhonnathan let an incoherent mutter lose and sank back into the sleep-nest's sea of pillows. Waiting until her brother was well into the dreaming, Micole curled against a pillow and wondered if she was the only one who dreamed of the alien and the ship. And if she was the only one, why?

She rolled over again, peering up at the constellations painted on her roof, idly toying with one of her nipples. They tingled with arousal, still, and the image of the alien danced in front of her eyes. Rifling through the pillows and coverings with her toes --careful to avoid Jhon-- she picked up her PADD and moved it to her hands. She leaned on her side, sketching.

The face didn't become familiar until the details formed on the PADD. The Structuri. Suddenly it made sense. Father and the Diplomatic Corps spent weeks preparing for their arrival and they only had two dimensional images of the Structuri. Their main contact, Tsao, resembled an older version of her dream companion.

So she'd transmuted the excitement of this evening's landing into another form of excitement. Not that she minded. Most mornings were spent like this, enjoying herself, though not with today's sense of urgency. She stretched again and wiggles her toe-claws, then lay on her stomach and looked at the picture she'd drawn. Saving it, she flipped to a blank section and began to draw once more.

Twenty clicks later another sketch glowed on the PADD. This one featured a Structuri male in a shower cubicle. Her Structuri male. Water streamed onto his fur from nuzzles embedded in the walls, sending foamy rivers of soap down his body. One hand grasped a support bar as the other clasped his erection, free of its sheath and peeking through his clasped fingers, the head dripping clear liquid.

"There," she murmured, smiling to the picture. "Why should I have all the fun? Enjoy yourself..."

***

Ling Khan felt the ship hum as he held onto the shower's support bar. Sealing the door, he punched in a heat setting, spray intensity and rinse duration, then thumbed "enter." Water spattered against his fur and he closed his eyes. The water pounding against his naked fur sounded like monsoon rain, spattering the side of his house back home.

She still lingered there. The strange being with fur that shimmered and eyes like gems, hovering above him as he dreamed. He could almost feel her, warm against his mind like a blanket. Steam billowed across the light pink tiles of the shower, coalescing into impressionistic sketches of his dream companion. Ling felt her watching him, unfazed by his nudity or his arousal.

Then he'd awoken, and the reminder message his father set bleated it's demands. As if he didn't know when the landing was, what clothes to wear. Admittedly, he was just an astrogator and astronomer, not a diplomat, but he wasn't the senseless dolt his father assumed. He yanked the blanked off himself, the fabric catching on his partial erection as he moved to the shower.

The water ran down his muzzle. He pictured her here, in the warmth with him. Ling saw her strip away any coverings she wore, slowly, as if showing off for him and drinking in his reaction. The idea sent his hand down to his sheath, fingertips lightly running along the underside. Keeping a tight grip on the bar, he hit the lather button. Soap mixed with the water, foaming against his fur. He rubbed it in, letting it flood his hand.

Pressing another button, a small stream of fur-softening oil hit his palm. Smearing it into the soap collecting on his growing shaft, he felt the fur and pink skin of his cock slicken, sliding through is fingers.

Ling cupped his sheath and began to soap it, the slipperiness drawing his pink shaft from within. He lengthened his strokes, closing his eyes as the sensations traveled from his sex and down along his body. In his minds eye, he saw his phantom companion letting the water cascade against her, soaping her nipples to erection without the slightest hint of embarrassment. She looked into her eyes and licked her teeth at him. His breathing shallowed, the muscles in his thighs tensing as his testicles shuddered.

Along the length of his shaft, he could feel pressure begin to build. The strokes increased in speed and intensity. Part of him wanted the experience to last longer, but he was hungry. He needed the feeling, the electric energy dancing along his nerves. The sweet oil squelched against his sex with each stroke, white lather dropping down into the swirling water of the shower.

A droplet of clear liquid beaded at the tip of his shaft, then rolled down his clenched fist. The tips of his fingers tingled as he held himself, thighs clenching to keep the sensation alive. Closing his eyes, he watched the fire crackle there as more liquid dribbled down his shaft. Then his phantom lover, the lady in his mind's eye, took his dripping pink sex between her breasts and squeezed.

Gasping, his shaft twitched in his hand and shot a stream of milky cream into the air. White fire engulfed his eyes for the briefest of moments. Ling released his grip on the safety bar and caught the remaining seed in his hand, letting it pool there, throb after aching throb. Beneath his fingers, he felt his muscles working, pumping him dry as his testicles curled against him.

The last of his cream dribbling down the tip of his swollen member's head, Ling brought the pool of sticky warmth to his lips. His long, flat tongue dipped into the milky fluid, lapping it down in long gulps. The salty liquid clung to his throat, but only seemed to widen the sense of hollowness his orgasm had left. All he wanted was to lick his seed from her breasts. To swim awhile in her freedom.

Punching up the shower's intensity, he rinsed the remaining soap from his fur, then went to dress and face his father. Alone.

***

"You look like you're about to fall over," said Micole, giggling as she watched her father add more and more ornate decorations to his tunic. Khemarr smiled and continued to assemble his diplomatic uniform, fur registering the tiniest of shimmers.

"I may be old, but I'm not going to topple over. Not yet, anyway. Besides, while the Structuri may be casual creatures in some ways, their representative is very formal," said Khemarr. "He's been following protocols very closely. I wonder if he murmurs them in his sleep."

Micole giggled once more. Her father's Ambassadorial Corps uniform was quite impressive, designed to show off his handsomer features as well as denote a high rank. Somehow, he made the very formal outfit seem like an everyday lounging tunic. A handsome Khromat, fur now a silverish white to match with Micole's own coloration, she suspected her father could wear scrap bits of ceramic and still look wonderful.

"Still, I hope we've gotten past the critical phase," she said. "No worries about starting a war over bowing the wrong way."

"Oh, I think we're well past that phase. By the by, where's Jhonnathan?" he asked, straightening his shoulders and ruffling his fur a bit, shifting the color just a tad to match the uniform.

"He's at the landing pad, watching the tracking satellites so he can see their ship arrive," she said, checking her own tunic. She straightened the torc signifying her xenocultural specialty, but it refused to settle. "He's just as curious as the rest of us. Aside from your talks with Tsao, the information they've sent us so far is very cursory. Just enough to get a feel for their society, but no specifics."

"Yes," he said. "The basic Encyclopedia Galactica information."

"Though I get the sense they've been invaded a few times," she said, fur flashing angrily at the misbehaving torc. She resisted the urge to yank off the clothes and wander about her house skyclad like any normal Khromat, but she knew the Structuri would not understand. Not yet, anyway.

"Oh?" said Khemarr, pausing to help Micole with her clothes. "You get that sense, too. There's a definite air of caution about them, as if they're waiting for the great Khromatai battle fleet to sack their ship for intelligence as a prelude to war. Still, with luck we'll be able to set their mind at ease after tonight."

Micole mirrored her father's hopes. Curiosity bubbled over inside her. She wanted to dive into the Structuri's culture and swim around in it, peeking under the surface to see what cities lay beneath. Her mind drifted to last night's dream, the memory of the strange male's scent played like a breeze across her mental landscape. Her nipples, now hidden beneath her fur, tingled in response.

The comm unit chirped and a ripple of excitement washed through Micole's fur. Her eyes jumped to the time as she pressed the 'receive' control. Jhonnathan's image coalesced.

"They're here?" asked Khemarr.

"Yes. And it's...well, take a look for yourself," said Jhonnathan. The imaged switched over from the handsome Khromatai's face to a satellite view of the Palmarrica upper orbit. Space puckered and shimmered, twisting into a shimmering blue whirlpool. Micole shivered involuntarily, her fur washing through a spectrum of color before settling down once more.

From the vortex, her dreams ship appeared.

***

Ling stood at attention as his father glance over his uniform, grabbing and adjusting the ornamentation. Tsao Khan shook his head, sighing, but not saying the words Ling could hear in his mind. Such a mess. It's amazing you can dress yourself. Look at this disorder. How can we impress the Khromatai if you're in such a terrible state? This is all your mother's fault, stupid ideas of hers. Scientist indeed...

"Orbital insertion complete," said Captain Tung over the comm system. "We will begin embarkation procedures for the drop shuttle in ten minutes. Bridge out." Tsao batted Ling's hair into place.

"That will have to do. Now, remember, this is our first physical contact, so we must be on our best behavior. Think before you speak, keep your emotional distance, and let me handle Khemarr's questions," said the elder Khan, strutting towards the atmospheric shuttle's drop bay.

"Yes, Father. Standard diplomatic party protocol," he said, trying not to let frustration cloud his voice. "Anything else?" One of the bulkheads cycled open as Tsao rested his palm against the access lock. Nothing was said until they reached the second emergency bulkhead, protecting the rest of the ship from an emergency decompression in the bay.

"Khemarr's daughter and son will be there. They're about your age, relatively speaking, and your education level. Do be sociable with them," said Tsao, exasperation tinging his voice. "It would help if you could cease to play brooding introvert for just this night. Understood?"

The final door cycled open. Before them the docking umbilicus stretched out into the distance, latching onto the shuttle's passenger compartment's outer airlock. He walked down the umbilicus, peeking through the plasteel windows to see the techs on the drop bay's floor, scurrying around the shuttle's underside.

"I understand, Father," he said. The rest of the flight was spent in silence, watching everyone prepare for drop. When the bay opened and the docking clamps released the shuttle, maneuvering thrusters sending it on a de-orbit burn, he grabbed a quick nap. Twenty minutes later, someone nudged his shoulder.

"Ready for the lecture?" said Chow Dai, the ship's resident telepath. "I know you've heard it before, but as one of the sensitives on board it's important to understand how Khromatai empathic and telepathic connections work..."

Ling nodded, but inside he sighed. The shuttle was more empathic than he. But he listened as Chow briefed the landing party one more time. His mind wandered but once to the lady from his dreams.

Atmosphere curled under the shuttle's delta-wings, and soon the orbital drop became nothing more than a plain ride. A few moments of turbulence, a small hum as the gravity polarizers came on line to assist in the maneuvering, and soon the shuttle was touching the compacted surface of the Khromatai landing pad.

"Right, everyone assemble in the bay," said his father, shuffling people into formation. "When we get the all clear, the door will drop and we'll march forward in standard formation."

Ling straightened his suit one more time and ran a quick mnemonic poem through his head, an exercise Chow taught him to dampen the empathic sendings. A hiss filled the air as the exit bay opened, massive cargo door cracking open like a flower and extending a ramp. One pace behind his father, he marched forward.

Bit by bit, the Khromatai came into view. The shear variety of pelts, all shimmering slightly, amazed him. Part of him yearned to learn how they evolved, what conditions brought them about. The other part counted paces until Khemarr, a familiar face came into view.

They halted. His father bowed to Khemarr. The Khromatai ambassador bowed in return, and Ling nearly fainted.

She was there. She was real and standing no more than ten paces before him. Ling swallowed, hard.

***

The technophile within Micole drooled at the drop shuttle from the Structuri ship. There was a beauty to it, like some grand bird sailing from the sky on silent graviton beams. It landed with the lightest of puffs. Next to her, Jhonnathan's empathic field shimmered a bit. Even an experienced spacer like himself got the shivers at moments like this.

When the shuttle opened, it's nose splitting apart and disgorging a long ramp, Micole held her breath. A tickle of nervousness washed over her, and in her mind she heard a voice, deep and resonant, singing: *I get knocked down, then I get up again. You're never gonna keep me down..."*

The Structuri appeared, golden fur and dark manes shimmering in the bright lights of the landing pad. First, Tsao, stiff as a slap of ferrocrete as usual. Still, he carried a very regal bearing, and looked sharp in his dark gray uniform.

The diplomatic party walked closer, and Micole paused to take in all their faces one by one. The ratio of males to females was exactly one to one. Probably calculated to show there was no gender prejudice in this mission.

*He drinks a whiskey drink, he drinks a vodka drink, he drinks a cider drink...* The song appeared in her head again, sending a tiny twitch down her spine. Her eyes shifted from Tsao to the Structuri just behind him.

Micole's fur nearly warped from white to brilliant lunar silver. It was him. He was real and he existed and...she realized it was his voice she heard. He was telepathic, or at least empathic. A giggle crossed her mind. He was singing, too.

Their eyes met and a flash of coral pink embarrassment hit her as he said, *Oh, shit* in his mind. She almost giggled aloud as his eyes became as wide as Palmarrica's primary moon.

"Ambassador Emkharnen Khemarr Soljharein of Palmarrica, of the Sidholm Province and Representative for the Tagarant of the Khromat Cshastei," intoned her father with a bow. Tsao returned the bow.

Then Khemar spoke again, this time reciting the welcome. "'As a fellow child of the Stars, who dance for Kommumassu so that sahn would smile upon them in joy, I greet you in the opened arms of friendship and curiosity, that our separate and different perspectives can be shared and understanding can arise from the strength of our diversity. May the Stars smile upon our endeavors.'"

The Structuri bowed once and said, "Tsao Khan of the Structuri. We thank you for your hospitality. It is a pleasure to meet you after so many months of long distance communication. I fear I have nothing so lovely to offer as a greeting, aside from a small poem by an ancestor of ours."

Tsung stood back and, in his native tongue, spoke:

"'North of me, south of me, spring is in flood,
Day after day I have seen only gulls....
My path is full of petals -- I have swept it for no others.
My thatch gate has been closed -- but opens now for you.
It's a long way to the market, I can offer you little --
Yet here in my cottage there is old wine for our cups.
Shall we summon my elderly neighbor to join us,
Call him through the fence, and pour the jar dry?'"

Micole could not get her eyes to leave the Structuri's. Finally, with effort, he yanked his away. Another flash of embarrassment from him, color mixed with scent . *It's ok,* she thought to him, hoping he'd hear. *You don't have to be embarrassed. This is a new experience for both of us.*

*Oh, shit,* he thought. *I guess I am empathic. And telepathic. I should apologize to Chow later on.* The Structuri's eyes remained low to the ground.

"Khemarr, may I present my son and our vessel's chief astronomer and astrophysicist, Ling Khan," said Tsao. The Structuri, now named, looked up into her father's eyes and bowed.

"Greetings, sir,"said Ling, tones warm and open, yet shy all at once. His voice reminded Micole of a rich layer cake filled with many flavors one wouldn't think went well together.

"Greetings. We're honored to have you here," said Khemarr. "Please, allow me to introduce my daughter, Cultural Xenologist Emkharnen Micole Khemarrica of Palmarrica, and my son, Merchant Mariner Linguist S'Chasslen Jhonnathan Astaelii of Palmarrica."

Micole bowed, as did Jhonnathan. His simple spacer's clothes, little more than a tunic, breeches and a pair of loose boots, emphasized his handsome figure and luxurious dark fur. As they spoke, two unguarded images struck her. The first, herself, naked and aroused, floating in the air like some angel. The second, and more fleeting, a brief image of Jhonnathan without his shipboard coverings. She smiled.

*My brother has that affect on people,* she thought to him. He ducked his head, just a tad, and an empathic blush crept over him, followed by a light barrier being erected between them.

*I'm sorry, I have this thing for dark furred men and...* he thought from behind the wall. *And, um, I'm not used to this and I shouldn't be intruding on your mindspace.*

*It's ok. I'll let you know when you intrude,* she thought, suppressing a giggle. The contact between them was unique. She'd never felt anything this close before. Almost as if their abilities were so similar it was almost impossible not to communicate this way.

Formal introductions for the rest of the contact team continued apace, one name exchanged for another. The ship's telepath brought a curious twinkle to her fur. Were the worried about unauthorized empathic probes, or was did all their exploration/diplomatic vessels have telepaths stationed on board.

The whole event was well choreographed beforehand. Tsao had even provided graphics of where everyone would be standing. Micole giggled when she first saw them, but Khemarr appreciated the caution on some level. Many contacts worked well during the initial information exchange, but things then went badly during the physical contact. One false gesture could mean war with some races.

But she could sense nothing like that here. In the low hum of emotional noise the Structuri emitted, she found excitement, nervousness, and a sense of joy; a thrill in discovery and exploration that matched the Khromatai's general feelings.

Soon, the formal introductions were over. Khemarr, as planned, invited the entourage down to the reception area for several samplings of local cuisine before they begin formal discussions. Tsao, as planned, accepted. A wash of relief spread across Micole's mind. Ling relaxed his posture.

Khemarr lead Tsao down the causeway to the reception ahead. One by one, the assigned escorts paired off with members of the diplomatic crew, until finally she remained with Ling. His posture stiffened again.

"This way, please," she said, offering him her arm.

"Be gentle with me?" he said, taking it. A nervous smile crossed his face and a flash of odd colors-- fear? --crossed her mind.

"I will," she said, and lead him downstairs.

***

Ling thought he was handing things surprisingly well. Considering a women he'd seen in a dream just a scant twenty four hours ago was now escorting him through the buffet, or local equivalent thereof, while conversing with him telepathically, he was doing very well.

He hadn't passed out yet. This was a good sign. The food was rather lovely, too. His father and Khemarr seemed engrossed in conversation. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves. At least their species were socially compatible.

"So, tell me about your home world," said Micole, picking at something which resembled a meat dumpling from home.

"What's to say? We're an average planet circling an average star in an average solar system. We've got lovely sunsets, lots of nice beaches, it's not to urbanized and when the sky is clear enough, you can see the orbital colonies glittering at the L--the balance points." He smiled and popped a sweet fruit into his mouth. Micole giggled and Ling tried not to melt.

"How many moons?" she asked, wrapping her arm around Ling's. He stiffened along both his back and shaft. Control, he thought to himself. Keep control. Otherwise there will be hell to pay when they return to the ship.

"Just one. A rogue planetoid we grabbed a few hundred million years ago," he glanced down at the food, trying to avoid Micole's eyes.

*What's wrong?* said Micole within his mind. He shivered and tried to smile.

*I'm not used to this kind of...intimacy* he thought. *I might get in trouble.*

*Whatever for? It's not like my holding your hand will start a war,* she thought back, her fingers entwining with his. His eyes jumped to his father. Tsao glances at him, eyes narrowed into fine, pointed daggers. He felt Micole wince as the sensation traveled to her, followed by an uncontrolled flood of memories--

--the whipping cane rises and "Idiot! Wrong! How do you ever expect to pass your exams if" *WHACKWHACK* the whipping cane falls and the monsoon *patterpatter* "Our son is worthless, a disgrace to the family""Stand up straight! I refuse to see you slouching before the Cetagandan *WHACKWHACK<blood blood in the air on the cane>WHACKWHACK*--

Micole shuddered, holding herself close. *Such strictness. Such violence... How can anyone be so cold to their son?* she thought. Ling chewed his lips as memories of her childhood washed against his mind. Warm memories that settled on his consciousness like warm chocolate. Khemar and Micole and her the rest of her family, laughing and tumbling, her father smiling.

Ling inhaled. Chocolate. The memories did smell like warm chocolate. But the chocolate was to rich for his taste.

Wrenching his arm free of Micole's, he bowed to her. "Pardon me... I need a moment outside." Turning on his heel as steadily as he could manage, he walked from the reception area.

***

Micole could almost taste tears as Ling vanished. She reached out and brushed him with the tips of her mind. All she saw were harsh memories; a litany of casual cruelties. Though part of her knew the Structuri were alien, it never hit home until this moment. Soul scarring abuse of this sort was foreign to the Khromatai.

She chided herself as she followed him. Not everyone had her good fortune, yet here she was, throwing a feast into the lap of someone who's lived at starvation's edge for years.

"Ling, please..." she said as he paused before the entranceway to the garden. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to flood you like that."

He shook his head. "No, the fault is mine. I ran out. I'm..." He paused. "Intimacy is the exception in my corner of the world. Not the rule. So being in contact with you this way and..." Ling lowered his head. "And the effect you had on me in the dream is, um, a bit disconcerting."

Micole reached out and brushed his arm with her fingertips. This time he didn't pull away. "Effect? You woke up aroused, too?" She could feel him mentally blush.

"Um...well..." He looked away and she smiled. The bashfulness seemed to amplify Ling's handsome features, bringing out the highlights in his eyes.

"Here, let's head to the garden and talk in private. And don't worry, there's nothing you can say that would shock me," she said, pulling his large frame close.

"What if I said I had this desperate urge to drag your brother into a small corner of the house, pull off his clothes and run my tongue along his chest?" said Ling. Micole giggled once more and lead him through the gateway, into the garden and the valley beyond.

"That would be the last thing to surprise me," she said. "My brother seems to have that affect on men."

***

It could have been the way she talked to him, with open ears and an unjaundiced view, or maybe it was the ripples of warm emotion radiating from her like heat from a desert floor, but Ling felt safe with Micole.

After a few moments of silent walking, a small lake appeared before them. Ling watched the moons ripple across the water like a lantern beam shone against a pool of ink. Calm. He felt calm. Micole's warm empathic aura clothed him like a blanket. This sense of peace felt alien, as alien as this planet. How could he feel at home somewhere so far from home?

He turned towards Micole. She stood next to him, running her hand along his shoulder blades. Ling furrowed his brow. Her figure changed as he watched, once flat bust growing, swelling to fill out the dress and give her a hint of cleavage. Another wave of nervousness struck as he pulled his eyes away from Micole's rapidly enlarging breasts.

'It's ok," she said with a giggle. "Female Khromatai get this way when excited."

"Must be convenient, " he said, concentrating on the lake. "Not having to worry about them until they're needed."

"Yes," she said. Her hand found his shaking fingers. "It's ok. You can look. I don't mind." Her other hand rested on his chin and gradually turned his eyes towards her. Voices within him screamed at the breech of protocol, but her smile quieted them. She ran her fingers against the hollow of his throat.

Micole's breasts filled out even further, her nipples pressing tightly against her tunic, the aureole circling the peaks. She moved her hand from his chin and pulled at the tunic, hooking her fingers into her cleavage and tugging downwards. The fabric slid over her now pink fur, bringing her tight, erect teats into full view.

Ling inhaled. A sharp inhale of surprise and more than a bit of awe.

"You want to touch me?" she asked. "I wouldn't mind at all..."

"I... His mind flickered for something else to talk about. "I was just wondering what has you so, um, excited." She smiled again and curled her arms around his chest, naked breasts pressed against his belly.

"Silly. I'm standing here, alone, with a very handsome being who'd obviously attracted to me despite his reluctance to say so," she said, hands sliding along the seals of his shirt. "And he also happens to be a very nice person. That's reason enough."

Before he could think, Ling felt a cool breeze against him. His shirt, seals undone, flapped open. Micole's hand ran across his naked belly. "I think I need to sit down. This is a bit...much."

He almost fell on the grass. The flaps of his jacket and shirt caught on his arms and, with a sigh, he pulled them off.

His chest fur stood up slightly against the cool, evening wind. The cold helped him a bit. His hand shook, even as Micole took it in hers. Her mind danced on the edge of his consciousness, wanting to know what was wrong but not wanting to invade. Ling decided to tell her.

"I'm sorry I'm so nervous. Most people, being where I am right now with a beautiful xenoculturalist, lying on the grass by a lake, half naked...well, they'd be ecstatic." He paused, letting his mental guards drop a bit, letting her feel the two Ling's in his head. She blinked as the empathic ripple traveled across her mind.

"Has it always been like that?" she asked, arm around his waist, now heavy breasts pressed against his naked chest. "Divided against yourself? One part of you smothering the other all for duty and obedience?" Ling nodded, leaning closer and inhaling her scent.

"My family is a strict one. What I wanted was...irrelevant," he said, wondering how his hand found it's way atop Micole's back and rested there. "Right now, I want to say yes to you. I want to..." He paused, tuning his head away.

Micole took his chin in her hands and pulled his eyes to hers. "You're ashamed of these feelings. They made you think there was something wrong within." Ling said nothing, just lowering his eyes. "Ling Khan, there is nothing wrong or dishonorable with how you feel. I've danced in you dreams. You're not the person your father thinks you are, and you'll never be trapped the way he has become. Let go of yourself..."

A protest surfaced on his lips but Micole never heard it. She kissed him, muzzle to muzzle, her tongue sliding against his teeth, as she spoke to him without words. *You know you're an honorable being, Ling. I trust you.* The shiver from that thought danced down his spine as they broke the kiss.

*I want you.* Those three words stopped Ling's heart for a nanosecond. Micole stood up, shedding the last of her clothes. Her breasts, now fully engorged, were heavy and ripe, with wide nipples slipping through the fur. Ling's eyes slid down her belly to her sex, the labia engorged and visible against her fur, now shimmering seashell pink. She smiled, noticing his eyes, and caressed her lips with a fingertip. The digits on her tail stroked his leg and he shivered.

"Tell me what you want," she asked, her hands sliding over his chest, leaving a trail of damp passion on his fur, right to one of his dark nipples.

"I..." he said, fear and excitement traveling driving his heart faster and faster.

Micole's fingers slid downwards to his pants, caressing his thickening sheath through the fabric. She undid the buckle of his belt. Metal scraped against leather as she opened the loop. The zipper of his pants roared as she pulled it down, one finger trailing along the underside of his erection as it was exposed.

"I...Please..." he stuttered, in haling sharply as she grasped the waistband of is pants and pulled them down, baring his pelvis, then legs. His boots vanished from his feet and he found himself naked, with Micole laying beside him, her fingers around his swelling shaft, stroking it with the loose skin of his sheath.

"Tell me that you find me interesting," he finally blurted out. Micole's fur-color rippled in surprise.

"Pardon?" she said, her hand not ceasing to stroke his shaft.

Feeling flushed with desire, and a little courage, Ling turned on his side and faced Micole. Her tailfingers massaged his leg as he reached out and toyed with a naked teat, bringing it to full erection, watching the aureole tighten.

"Tell me you think I'm interesting. That my life is worth hearing about. That you think I'm worth talking to...that my opinions matter. Tell me you'd like to spend time with me even though I'm not perfect," he said, words blurring one into another as his pink cock, damp and glistening, spilled from his sheath into Micole's hands. "Tell me I'm worth something."

Micole rolled Ling onto his back, sliding down to bring her muzzle against his shaft's thickening head. Her tongue flicked out, rasping at the sensitive skin while her hand stroked the base of his sheath. Micole's tail joined in the act, first massaging his testicles, then siding down between his buttocks to toy with the dark star of his anus.

"Ling," she said between licks, her eyes always on his. "You're a fascinating person." Her tongue curled around his mushrooming head. "What you think, what you feel, who you are matters to me..." She lapped a dribble of salty nectar from the tip of his throbbing member.

"You, with all your faults and your honorable heart...are worth a universe." She opened her mouth and engulfed him, tongue rippling against the underside of his shaft as she sucked against him. Her textured tonguetip played with the crest of his cockhead, circling it as she devoured him.

Ling moaned, his dark mane spilling against the grass as his back arched and buttocks tightened. He dug his fingers through Micole's headfur, caressing her as best as he could. Reaching beneath her arms, he ran his fingers along the sides of her ripe breasts, tickling the fur.A shudder passed through him as her fingers massaged his pendulous scrotum, releasing a drop of clear nectar from his shaft. Then, she stopped and sat up.

Damp fur glistened against her thighs and around her mons. She spread her legs apart, then opened her hungry neitherlips with her fingers, baring her clitoris. Rubbing herself as she spoke, she said, "Now you have to believe that you're worth a universe..." Crawling over him, her tail now pressed deep inside herself with thick, wet clicks. She straddled his head, caressing his mane.

"But I'm not..." He nosed her throbbing lips, tasting the salt on her fur. Micole's nectar glistened on his muzzle.

"Do you trust my judgments so far?" She asked, her pussy clenching against his lips and tongue as he licked her, once. Then twice.

"Yes...but..." She silenced him, pushing his muzzle into her sex, burying him in her scent, sending his tongue into a feeding frenzy within her velvet walls.

"But nothing," she said, moaning as she paused. "You're worth a universe--ahhhh!' A shiver passed through her as he tasted her labia, drawing his tongue along them before lifting away her clitoral hood. Her fingers curled inside his mane, keeping him close as he suckled the sensitive bud.

Micole's words crumbled as the passion took over. His eyes, when open, wandered from her eyes to her breasts, bouncing against her. She gave up on words and thought to him. *I know you...You earned everything you have on your own merits.*

*It doesn't feel like it,* he thought back, a finger diving into her pussy as his tongue lapped at her clit. Salty nectar poured against his mouth, frothing with every movement, filling his senses.

*That's because you've been told otherwise," she said, moaning. *And a lie told long enough starts to feel like the truth.* Then she pulled away, sliding out of his grip but still straddling him. Fur now bright pink, verging on purple, she grasped his thick sex and rubbed the tip against the moist swelling of her cleft. She massaged a droplet of crystal fluid from his tip and smeared that along her neitherlips.

"Now, smile for me," she said, wetness dripping off her lips, down the length of his shaft.

"What?" said Ling, chest heaving as the heat from her steaming velvet passage traveled along his body. Leaning down, the head of his phallus slipping along the lines of her hungry neitherlips, she brushed her palms against his nipples, pinching them. Ling gasped, tightening his thighs and releasing a thin line of milky liquid along her soft outer lips.

"Smile for me." Images and scents bombarded him, sliding across his mild like a lover's tongue slipping over his aching nipples. He opened his eyes and gazed at Micole, her body and fur flush with desire, tailfingers caressing, pumping his shaft in a stattico rhythm. Dribbles of salty nectar fell from the tip and merged with her frothing juices.

Beyond the overwhelming feeling of passion, the sensations dancing across his body like snowflakes of ecstasy, he took stock of where he was. He, Ling Khan, was on an alien planet. Above him, a beautiful xenoculturalist and ambassadors daughter kneeled, naked, over his erect sex and for the first time in his life, he felt content and happy with himself.

Ling smiled. Ling smiled so brightly, for a moment he outshone the moons and Micole's fur combined. Hands whipping around Micole's waist, he pulled her atop him, sliding himself deep within her.She gasped and threw her head back, knees touching the grassy ground as she swallowed him. Juices dripped from their joined sexes onto his fur.

"Thanks for giving me something to smile about," he said, reaching up to caress her breasts, thumb idling across the nipple. He leaned forward and, with his wide tongue, lapped at her right breast. Ling traveled from the first curve of her bosom, as it rose up from her chest, along the curve to her aureole. His tongue circled the wide expanse of sensitive skin, feeling her nipple and velvet depths contract on contact, tightening beneath his tongue and around his swelling cock.

Micole grasped his hair with one hand, pulling him close to her, panting for air as her fur deepened its purple shade. She ground her her crotch against his pelvis, rubbing her clitoris across his fur. Each movement sang desire, reflecting in the waves of images and scents Ling found crashing against the shores of his mind. She clenched her pussy again and Ling gasped against her breast. His cock, pressure building from the back of his testicles through the long, throbbing shaft, gave up some seed. A tiny spurt rolled down his flared head, quickly whipped into a froth by Micole's passionate clenches.

Moaning with need, they pressed against each other, her fingers digging into his thigh as she rode his thrusts, still pressing him against her nipple. He slipped one hand around from her waist ad caressed the join between them, fingertip nuzzling her exposed clitoris. Micole cried out, another wave of sensation and thought washing at him, dancing around his mind like her tongue around his cock not so long ago.

With each stoke he felt himself slip away, his memories becoming entangled with hers, intermingling like their sexes. He felt her hands pressed against her full, erect breasts as a thick, dark shaft slid between them, throbbing and wet. It twitched, spilling seed onto her muzzle. No--onto _their_ muzzle. He opened his mouth and caught the hot, thick liquid as it sprayed across his breasts and chin and tongue.

He could feel her riding his skin as he remembered drinking from a classmate's yoni during new years celebrations. They watched from high atop the academy tower as the fireworks exploded in the sky and the dragon dancers paraded through the streets. She kneeled between her lover's legs, feeling Ling's tongue slide against her classmates dripping sex.

Her musk was heavy and thick, sticking to his muzzle like nectar. With his fingers she parted her, slid her tongue deep inside the dark, throbbing lips and tasted her lover's clitoris through a man's tongue. It felt like a salty pearl, bobbing up and down with his tongue's movement. With his lips and teeth, she nibbled along the edges of her lover's labia, slowly, interspersing the tongue and tooth caresses with brief sucklings of the clitoris until her lover cried out in Chinese, "Pleasepleaseyes..."

"Pleasepleaseyes..." she moaned, in her mind, in his voice and with his mind. Ling roared as her pussy clenched tight and cum spilled from his cock, gout after gout exploding from the tip inside her as a bright, white light engulfed the both.

Memories. Memories like oceans of color and scent mingled together. The walls around their souls shattered, washing Ling and Micole's lives together as if some brush took the colors of their very beings and blended them.

Through the flood, two memories:

--Micole strained to lift the rover's wheel up against the hub as a voice, her father's voice, said "Here, let me," and another set of hands hefted the wheel into place long enough for their tailfingers to begin replacing the lug nuts, "Remember, tighten them in a diagonal pattern," his warm hand ruffling her fur, "Then we can get to work on the others...

--In the dark of the garage he watched Tsao peer at the torque sensor's readings and say, voice heavy, "The lug nuts have not been adjusted properly. I'm very very disappointed," and the sensor clattered on the oily floor beside him. "You failed. Go to your room and await your punishment...

Two memories, riding the ocean between Micole and Ling, sank into the depths once more. White ecstasy consumed them, washing over their bodies like the hot jets of seed spilling into Micole's vulva or the slow, hungry clenches of her muscles against his fountaining sex.

Colors faded, and bit by bit Ling found himself in his own body again, Micole's memories swimming around him like carp in a pond. Panting, his slackening shaft still buried inside her, Micole slumped against his chest. His arms curled around her and he grinned.

"I think this might be a violation of diplomatic protocol," he said, mind still sifting through her memories. "For my planet at least. I think I rather like yours better." A pause. "I certainly like your memories better.

"Oh, I don't know," she said, kissing his throat. "The fireworks on your world are a nice touch. And those dragon dancers..." She paused. "As for the memories, we can make new ones.

"Hmmm," he said around a mouthful of her shoulder fur. "I've got so many questions."

"So do I."

"Ok, but first things first." he said. "The night during New Years...this is what it felt like from her side." Then his head vanished between her thighs.

***

Running her fingers through his mane, Micole closed her eyes and experienced an odd form of deja vu, as the humans called it. Moments before Ling's tongue caressed the very base of her labia, she knew exactly where he would lick. She'd been there, at the helm of that rough yet sensual tongue, and knew his caresses because they were her own.

He scrupulously avoided her clitoris, which still buzzed with energy and sensitivity. Instead, he focused on laying the tip of his tongue along the length of her labia, stroking up and down in waves. She sat up and watched his head bob and turn, his whiskers brushing against her thighs, as he lapped up their mingled juices.

As slow warmth built up within her, the scents of Ling's arousal mingling with a light pink emanating from his mind, he lifted away from her sex. She sent a flash of disappointment towards him as he licked his sticky chops.

"We have time," he said. She moved close to him, pushing Ling down on his back and taking his half-slack cock in her hand. Micole bent over and ran her tongue up the shaft, from the base of his sheath, along it's length, to the very tip. Ling arched his back and gasped. She felt his cock swell again with her next lick and their mingled juices coated her tongue.

She watched the colors and scents of his mind shift, flowing through the light pinks to a shade closer to where she was during his caresses, then she stopped. Scooting closer, she whispered in his ear, "We have time."

Ling laughed, his chest rumbling pleasantly. He gazed up in the sky and said, "Tell me about the moons."

"You already know. We shared that."

"Yes but..I like hearing your voice," he said, hands caressing her spine.

"Well, in the strictest of standards, Palmarrica really only has one moon," she said, pointing skywards. "The Greater Moon, Ahnimii, has a chunk of rock in close orbit around it, Ilimii. But, the gravitational center is still closer to Palmarrica, so we just call them the two moons of Palmarrica"

Ling nodded. "Sort of like the way Titan captured Aeolus."

"Yes," she turned to face him. "Now, tell me about God." Ling paused, gazing out onto Palmarrica's two moon, then leaned over and retrieved his jacket.

"Better yet...I'll introduce you." He removed a dodecahedron formed from a black metal with silvery streaks. No larger than his fist, he placed it on the ground and tapped it twice. The shape moved and dissolved like wax under the hot sun before reforming into a dish-like structure. Micole leaned close, noticing thousands upon thousands of circuit-like structures covering the dish.

A bright blue whirlpool coalesced within the dish. She recognized the pattern. It was the whirlpool in her dream, the one that gave Ling's ship access to normal space, but somehow miniaturized and placed horizontally. Within the vortex, an image coalesced. Micole blinked.

The God of the Structuri was, indeed, human. A very handsome human, with a slim build and an delicately curved face. Waves of brown hair cascaded down onto the nape of his neck. His eyes shimmered, the bright blue iris' matching the color of the vortex. He wore a simple outfit of beige trousers, black shoes, a shirt that said "Take Me to Your Leader," and a brown jacket.

"Ah, Ling, I was wondering when you'd call--" God looked up, his eyes widening to the size of saucers as he saw both of them in the fur. He spun on his heal, clamping his hand over his eyes. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, is this a bad time?"

"Oh, it's quite all right," said Micole, lying down on her stomach and resting her chin on her arms. "I'm sure it's nothing you haven't seen before."

God turned around and peeked through his fingers. "Are you quite sure?"

"Quite," said Micole, giggling.

"Oh, excellent, that does help things. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Paul, though the Structuri call me 'God' for some reason or other."

"You created us, Paul," said Ling, lying down as well. They huddled around the device as if it was a campfire. "That's a good enough reason."

"Well..." Paul/God glanced to Ling. "Um, how much does she know?"

"Um, well, we sorta had this mind-link thing while we were..." Ling glanced down at the grass and Micole suppressed a giggle. It must not be easy, discussing sex with your deity.

"I have to say that while I remember most of it, it's still a bit hazy. I'm not quite used to his memories yet," she said.

Paul beamed. "Oh, ok. Wonderful, I get to tell a story." He pulled a chair into view and said, "Well, first, technically speaking I'm not human. I'm a birthed synthetic intelligence, created in the early 21st century Anno Domino, when my parents merged copies of her personality templates into one uniform being."

A picture flashed beside him of two rather bland looking humans. "This is Mum and Dad. Anyway, because of various, um, legal difficulties I was put into storage for a while. Several millennia, really."

Micole's ears perked up with a question, though the answer dangled on the edge of her mind like a fading dream. Paul smiled and said, "Oh, time runs differently where we're from. Technically speaking we're three time lines over and a few millennia ahead. But I digress..."

"So you are from an alternate universe?" said Micole. Paul nodded, almost beaming in pride. "Another set of Web travelers. I'd have never thought we'd see them outside of our program and the Hedgemony's Pantemporal Arm."

God blinked. "You travel through..?"

"Oh, yes. Many events in our history are based on Webwalking. There's even a legend that one of our Kafaren exist because someone slipped back to medieval Europe on Terra." said Micole. "But its a fairly risky business. And none of our ships are quite as beautiful as yours, I must admit."

Paul smiled like a father who just found out his children, while not the only ones with home-made hovercarts, had the nicest set on the block.

"Now," said Micole, "We were at your revival?

"Oh, yes. My revival." God leaned back in his seat. "Well, when I woke up next it was the distant future and humanity was dying. I really can't say why..." His eyes glanced at the nonexistent floor. "It could lead to some nasty experiments. But, suffice it to say they were going extinct and wanted some legacy to live on. So, they piled all their knowledge into a massive archive and placed me in charge of it, thinking that a birthed SI would be an excellent watchdog over all of it."

"Oh, my..." Micole could feel her eyes widen and shimmer, like the waves of curiosity surging from her mind. "Did you get a chance to read all of it?"

"Oh, yes." Paul nodded. "And practice a lot of it. By the time I was done, though, and I had a few hundred years to reflect, I realized something."

"He was lonely," said Ling, voice low. Sympathy radiated from him.

"Yes," said Paul. He stood up and paced, never leaving the whirling disc of energy. "So, I started a little project and created the Structuri. Though, originally they called them selves Constructs, prefixed with their particular species type. Ling, here, is a Lion'Struct, for example."

"You didn't recreate humanity?" asked Micole. Paul shook his head.

"No, they had their chance and mucked it up royally. I decided to give a few animal species a chance at sentience. So I whipped up their ancestors, we negotiated the Compact." He shrugged. "They started setting up a civilization based on their favorite bits of 21st century human life, and everything went on from there."

Paul sat back in his virtual chair and spun a compressed history of the Structuri's relationships with other races. Those that avoided them because of 'humanity's stain' were the polite ones. After a series of invasions, both interdimensional and from their own local cluster--more specifically, a system called Cetaganda--Paul's children felt hated and despised. And lonely.

"So, I started looking around for a nice, friendly species for the Structuri to make contact with," said Paul. "Another few years of bumping into ticked off alien war machines and the Structuri might start following their example, beating plowshares into intergalactic dreadnoughts."

"And you chose us to make contact with?" said Micole. "Out of all the races in the multiverse, you chose us?"

"Absolutely!" Paul beamed. "You're a wonderful, friendly bunch of people and just the kind of society the Structuri needed to meet. Someone who wasn't interested into imploding the local sun."

"Glad you think we're good company," she said, giggling. "So you gave Ling and his crew these personal communicators so they could chat with you across the time lines and let you know what's up on Palmarrica, yes?"

Paul looked at his toes again, avoiding Ling's eyes. "Not entirely," he said. Raising his eyes he said, "I only gave one to Ling. No one else can call me."

"What? But I thought..."

"I'm sorry, I know what you thought and I didn't do anything to discourage it but..." Paul looked to Micole, then Ling, as if pleading for a little help. "Well, Ling, you're special."

Micole nudged Ling, who just peered at his god, perplexed. "Wha?"

"First, as you've obviously found out, your empathic powers ride on the same basic wavelengths as the Khromatai. As far as I can tell, that is," said Paul, pacing to and fro, hands in his pockets. "Though with Micole's case, I think there's some sort of complimentary effect occurring. Your brains fit well together." He grinned.

"But that's not the only reason you chose him, was it?" said Micole. "It's because of his father."

Paul nodded, a weight appearing on his shoulders. "Tsao is an excellent diplomat. He negotiated the end of the Cetegandan conflict and is very through when it comes to diplomatic procedure. If there was anyone who would make sure the initial stages of contact were well handled..."

"And?" said Micole.

"And...well, Ling was, um, wounded," said Paul. Injury flashed across his face, mixed with guilt and and shame. Ling shook his head.

"Oh, no, we're not going through that again," said Ling. "You are not to blame for how my father turned out or how he raised me, Paul."

"I should have done something..."

"And you would have violated the Compact we signed. You gave us the right to make our own mistakes when it came to things like this--" Words and images tumbled towards Micole through a flurry of colors. Sadness, pity, a yearning to help.

Micole put her hand on Ling's and entwined her fingers with his. "You sent Ling here to see if we could heal him. Even just a little..."

"Well...yes," said Paul. "And more. I've studied a little bit about you, everything that the Hedgemony's written and...well, I like your parenting style. A lot. I think we could all learn from it, as well as your take on life."

Ling broke out into a smile, then a full blown laugh. "I get it. The Khromatai are suppose to nudge us in the ribs and tell us to lighten up, right?"

"Erf, well, that's putting it rather simply. I mean the benefits of positive contact with outside races are a bit more than..." He paused. "Well, sorta." Paul sat once more, shoulder slumped. Ling lifted his ears, but the flurry of churning emotional colors didn't strike Micole again.

"Paul...it worked," said Ling. "Dunno if it's permanent or not but, I feel peaceful. For the first time in a while. Like the other Ling, the Ling that sounds like my father has gone silent and I can just be me. The rest of me. The me I made myself."

Warm colors and comforting scents flooded Micole's senses as Ling pressed his head against her shoulders. "You gave me a gift. Something I can't put into words. And I wish...I wish I had something as valuable I could give you. But, I'll just give you him instead."

Ling picked up the device, and God, and plunked them in front of Micole. Paul sputtered and said, "Now wait a minute..."

"Ooh," said Micole, eyes sparkling. "God in a box?"

"What I think he means," said Paul, shooting Ling a fierce look, "is that you get access to me and, well, to us. You're a xenoculturalist, if the computers here are currently up to date, yes? Wouldn't you like first crack at us? The Structuri, the Cetegandans... Hmm?"

A lustful shade of lavender rippled down her spine as the implication of Ling's gift hit her. Positions on the crosstime exploration teams were few and far between, with a waiting list years long. But here was a chance. A chance to walk the Web, to explore and learn about an alternate undiscovered in all their explorations.

"Micole," whispered Ling. "God just invited you over for tea. Say yes." She laughed aloud.

"Yes, she said. The memory of Ling and his classmate on new years eve danced down her spine. The sensations of his tongue pressed against her puckered lips followed thereafter. Micole wondered if she could still catch the dragon dances there.

"Excellent! There's just one thing that needs to be done. And I'm afraid Ling's the only one that can do it," said Paul. Ling took Micole's hand and kissed it.

"Ok. What?"

God smiled. "I'd like to meet Micole's father if I may..."

***

"No one's quite sure how the system formed," said Micole, eyes half closed as Ling's tongue explored her exposed nipple. She held his muzzle close to her full breast, letting the warmth of his breath trickle through her fur like scented water.

"I can guess," said Ling, raising his head to lap at her neck while his hands massaged her, thumb toying with her aureole. "We've argued about them for decades. Wish I could go back and see the formation."

"All I keep thinking about is the look on your father's face when Paul suddenly appeared in your hand," she said, squirming beneath his touch.

"I'm glad your father and Paul got along so well," said Ling. His fingers continued to toy with the sensitive spot on Micole's lower back. "And it was nice to see my father speechless for a while..."

Micole rolled Ling onto his back, straddling his chest. The fingers of her tail traced hot patterns along his thighs as she bent her head and caressed his nipple with her tongue. The exposed circle of skin tightened under her caress, Ling's scent flooding her senses as her nose brushed against his chestfur.

Ling gasped, arching his back beneath her with an audible moan, and the heel of his foot dug into the gas giant's ring. Tiny chunks of rock scattered beneath his heel. Micole released his nipple from her lips, licking them with an audible smack, and stretched.

Around her spilled a solar system, with an unremarkable yellow sun at its core, circled by a gas supergiant in a tight orbit. They made their bed in the systems second planet, laying up on the cool rings and watching the clouds swirl like pastry mix, whipped together into a light froth.

"Do you think all our dreams will be like this?" he asked. Ling's fingertips met the inner petals of her sex, caressing their length and dipping into the slippery nectar within. "I mean, when I'm back in my timeline, will our minds still be able to touch?" She gasped as his slim digits entered her, the wetness cracking like static electricity as he caressed her inner walls.

"Yes." She arched her back, gazing into his eyes. "You've got me inside you, now. And I've got you inside me." She clenched the walls of her dripping sex around his fingers. "We're linked now."

Ling nodded, sitting up and pulling her against him. "You can't undo a first contact once it's made." He rasped his tongue across her throat and clavicle, a purr rumbling from deep within while his fingers danced along the outer cusps of her labia.

"Would you want to?" she asked.

"Never," he said. And they embraced once more as the universe spun onwards, into infinity.