This file is a part of Elf Sternberg's Collected Works on ASSTR.  The
complete archive of Elf's work can be found on his website at:

http://www.drizzle.com/~elf

The author can be contacted at:

mailto:elf@drizzle.com

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                             Waking With Rain

Journal Entry 166 / 00293

Seren, Cerim 19, 00293

Sunlight streamed through my closed eyelids as I returned slowly to
wakefulness. I turned over slowly onto my back and stretched, feeling
the well-worn linen sheets shifting against my legs as I did so.

A sound caught my attention, making me open my eyes for the first time
today, Felinzi purring off to my right. Perry. I eased back and closed
my eyes again, smiling and remembering our encounter last night. I sat
up in the sunlit bedroom, carefully easing my legs over the side of the
bed and standing up, making my way out the door and down the hallway to
the kitchen.

The smell of cooking breakfast steak apparently caught her feral
nose. The sight of her walking down the hallway, licking at her muzzle
and desperately trying to get her night-ruffled fur under control made
me giggle.

"Good morning, Perry," I said cheerfully, dropping my pan aside to give
her a hug. "Sleep good?"

Perry finally looked up at me, her greenish eyes clearing rapidly. "Very,"
she said. "It's been a long time since I slept next to anyone. It felt
wonderful."

"I'm glad," I said, kissing the side of her nose softly. "It's been a
long time for me, too."

"Are you cooking breakfast for me?"

"Of course! One thing I learned from my parents. A good host always cooks
breakfast. That's even more important than cooking dinner." I slid the pan
of eggs off the burner and turned the heat down. She watched attentively
as I dropped them onto a plate and then retrieved her steak from the oven.
As I added it to her plate, she suddenly turned me around and hugged me
tightly, pushing me towards the breakfast table. "Perea!"

"Hmmm?"

"Your breakfast will get cold," I said, protesting not too strenuously.

She growled softly, lustfully as she guided me down onto the tabletop,
holding me with one hand to the small of back until I was lying flat.
"What I want for breakfast will never get cold."

I laughed as she nudged her way between my legs, sitting down at the
table and running her slightly unsheathed claws through the fur of my
legs. "If this is breakfast," I murmured to the ceiling, "Maybe we should
have it in bed."

"We could have had it in bed, but you abandoned me, Private."

"Last night you said you were tire-- Oh, Perea..." She pressed her hot
muzzle up to my mound, her tongue flicking out and invading my privacy. So
fitting for a soldier, the insurgency with which she approach my clitoris.
"Gods, Perry, slow down!

The soft purring noise she seemed to make even more consistently than
Ember ever had migrated up from her chest to her throat, emerging as
a soft and constant growling sound. "That's it," I sighed, running my
mitts over her head and playing with her ears, "that's perfect." I could
feel the moisture of her tongue mixing with my own, the feel of her
cool nose pressing against the hood of my clit as she tongued my hole,
tasting the juices that I could feel between my legs, or so I imagined.

She retreated even further, finally just barely kissing my cunt, her
licks softly raining down over my exposed and needful clitoris without
pause of pressure. "Perry," I whimpered.

She chuckled then, a soft and feminine sound, almost out of keeping with
her body and profession. She started to lick me harder, faster, and the
little shocks of pleasure from every flicker of her roughly-textured and
gently-driven tongue pooled in my belly like fire coming to life. "Oh,
Perry," I gasped softly, "How do you do this to me?"

She didn't answer, but instead reached up and, with claws again slightly
unsheathed, scratched her way down my sides, driving me mad with lust.
"Gods, Perry, let me come already!"

"I'm not stopping you," she said innocently, her parted muzzle kneading
my vulva and her tongue parting my labia to lick at my core, my entrance,
my clit. I moaned as she licked more directly, slashing at my clitoris. My
body tensed as my mind floated away at her insistent kisses and licks.
"P...Perry!" I gasped, coming against her face, feeling her bury her
muzzle again between my blood-thickened lips and her tongue racing
achingly against my clitoris.

We lay there, my mitts grasping her ears, her muzzle deep between my
thighs, locked together like some unmoving tableaux. Finally she leaned
back and let me sit up. I looked down at her, her muzzle wet with our
fluids, and laughed. She looked up at me with that sparkle in her eye
that only now she allowed me to see. I slid off the table into her lap
and held her, thanking her.

"You're welcome," she replied to my whispered blessings. She laughed and
leaned back in her chair, looking up at me. "I love you," she said with
both awkwardness and sadness.

"Are you sure that's something you want to say right now?"

Perry looked away. "I need someone to say it to."

"And I'm it?" I asked, pulling away slightly. "That's what all this
is about?"

She shook her head. "That's not what it's all about, but that's a good
part of it. Rainy, do you know what a 'biological clock' is?"

"I hope so. My dad's a geneticist and mom's a doctor," I said. "It's
either the rhythmic cycle of hormonal release in an adult body, or the
triggering of some biological process by a progressively regenerative
or degenerative condition."

"I mean, do you think someone could have a biological clock set for when
they want to have children?"

"Oh, that. I don't know. Some fems say they have them, times when they
have to have kids. My friend Rachel says she's unhappy if she's not
pregnant at least once every decade. Mom, on the other hand, thought she
had gotten her maternity days out of the way two centuries ago. I'm glad
she changed her mind."

"I am too," Perry said. "Do you ever feel it yourself?"

"What, me want to have kids?" I smiled. "Nah, not yet."

"I do," Perry admitted. "I'm not suggesting anything. I just want you
to know why I feel so... open, suddenly. Especially with you."

"Are you looking for a partner to have them with? I mean, I can't right
now, you know that... I'm going to go into PAS training in a couple
of weeks."

She nodded. "I know it sounds stupid, but yeah, I am. You're just the
person I've been most attracted to in the past couple of years. I'm
willing to wait a while, but I've decided I want to start looking now. I
really want to have children."

"Why don't you just find someone and have them yourself?"

"Rainy, look at me! I don't even menstruate anymore. My body is so
neutered because of what I do, what I love, that I can't have children."

"We can change that," I said, looking her over. She was right. And I
knew that part of the reason for her lack of menstruation was that her
lack of bodyfat prevented her from harboring the cyclic hormones that
triggered the start of her period. Like I said; Mom was a doctor.

"But I don't want to."

"If you want your own children, you're going to have to," I said softly.
"If you want to be a soldier for the rest of your life, for the centuries
you've got ahead of you, that's fine. But if you want children, Perry,
you're going to have to shut down some of your habits. You're going to
have to let some spread take over your life."

She smiled. "Sounds terrible."

"It should frighten you," I said, leaning back into her and holding her
close. "Nobody ever changes easily. Nothing ever comes without a price."

She chuckled. "I know."

We were quiet for a few seconds. "My breakfast is probably frozen by now."

"That's what microwaves are for."

"Ugh," she said softly. "Microwaved eggs."

"Aw, they're sunny-side down on biscuits. You won't even notice."

She laughed. "Okay, I'll take your word for it."

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Original document is available from:
http://www.drizzle.com/~elf/journals

The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., and Related Tales
are Copyright (c) 1989-2000 Elf Mathieu Sternberg. Distribution limited
to electronic media not-for-profit use only. All other rights are reserved
to the author.
