Saoirse’s Adventures Pt 9

“Try to hold really still, okay? I’m squeamish,” said Arthur. He took a long drink of water before bending over Saoirse’s leg with a pair of tweezers. In her quest for interesting rocks, Saoirse had somehow picked up about a dozen blood-sucking water ticks on the lower portion of her legs and ankles.

Arthur was naked except for his swim trunks; his t-shirt and hoodie were still drying outside in the sun. His heavily-freckled chest and shoulders had a dark tan from working shirtless outdoors at the nearby archaeological dig, his dark shoulder-length curly hair was damp and slicked back, and his black feathered wings were dewy but hadn’t really gotten wet.

“I can do this myself though,” said Saoirse. She sat on the rolling chair in the small basement office that made up her base camp, with her leg propped up on the nice mahogany desk. “Here, give me the tweezers.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?” Arthur shivered. The temperature outside had been about thirty-five degrees Celsius, while the lower levels of the building complex maintained a constant twenty.

“Distract me?” suggested Saoirse. “Tell me about the time you had an inconvenient emission on that medication you’re taking-“

Arthur had been raising his water bottle for another drink and set it down. “Inconvenient emis-…you didn’t even pause you just said it,” he giggled. “It’s super inconvenient though.” Arthur huddled up under the blankets on the office’s weirdly convenient couch bed before he continued.

Arthur stood in line in a stuffy old medical station, sipping a cup of hot apple cider. The station and its attached pharmacy had had to restart their entire computer system when he’d been second in line, so he had about an hour to take in his surroundings. Everything around him had a distinctly brown, speckly beige, and yellow color scheme. The smell of disinfectant was so heavy in the air that it seemed to accumulate in Arthur’s mouth, and he periodically took extra sips of his cider to wash out the taste.

It had been almost two and a half years since Arthur had broken his wing, and he’d put off his visit to the pharmacy until he’d been out of his pain medication for two days. His wing throbbed hotly in the clammy fall weather, and he had a vague sense that he needed to pee but hadn’t acted on it because he didn’t want to give up his place in line.

“This place is going to look so dated in a few years,” declared Rabb, stepping into line next to Arthur. Rabb was full Renoige, covered from head to toe in medium-length orange and white tabby-patterned fur with catlike ears, a long ringed tail, and a lean, athletic create. She was completely soaked, having just been rained out of the sports field at her weekly practice. She’d gotten herself a rice bowl at the station’s canteen, expecting Arthur to get through the line before she was finished eating.

Arthur was too preoccupied to agree or disagree with Rabb either way. The constant, hot pounding in his bad wing ate up most of his concentration. It occurred to him that he should ask Rabb to save his place in line and go to the bathroom when a voice called, “Next!”

“That’s you,” Rabb patted Arthur’s shoulder. “I’ll wait for you next to the canteen. Want another cider?”

“Yes, please,” said Arthur. He took a sip of the almost-lukewarm cider in his cup, leaving enough to take one of his tablets with as he approached the counter. Arthur was unpleasantly surprised to figure out that his usual pain meds weren’t available, and was given a substitute, made from a mutant strain of dagger root.

“But I’m nineteen,” said Arthur. “I’m underage!” Since it was toxic to most humanoid species, infusion of dagger root was a tightly-controlled substance, only available to Andynes over the age of twenty. Arthur was Andyne, but he was only nineteen years old.

The pharmacist read something on her computer screen. “Mr. Deepuin, the only alternative I can give you is extra-strength ibuprofen. The dagger root is a specially-bred medical strain. It’s not without its side effects, but in your circumstances it’s legal. Your doctor has it noted as the next best option if your usual prescription runs out.”

Arthur sat through the pharmacist’s explanations of how to take the medication and its side effects, and moodily swallowed his first tablet as he and Rabb left the facility. Rabb’s home was a ten-minute walk away over the grid of boardwalks on the rainy streets. They were able to stay out of mud puddles, but still got soaked by the rain.

When they splashed up to the door at Rabb’s house, the lights were off, the family restaurant’s “closed” sign was up, and all the doors were locked. Rabb patted down her coat pockets for her keys, only to come up empty-handed.

“Today’s Saoirse’s swim meet!” gasped Rabb. “You stay here, Arthur. I’ll climb up to my window. Once I bust in, we’ll change and sprint down to the school.” Rabb strode purposefully around the side of the house.

Arthur’s wing was already starting to feel better, and though he was suddenly aware that he was about to piss himself, he didn’t mind it at all. He stood within the front hedge that separated the house from Rabb’s family’s restaurant, sheltered from the street, and couldn’t hear anyone but Rabb around. Under his coat he was dry, but his pants were already soaked through.

“I can’t wet my pants if they’re already soaked,” Arthur snorted to himself. His jeans flooded with hot urine, the rushing noises barely audible over the sound of the fat raindrops all around.

A thump came from the roof, and Rabb stood up on it. “I’m up!”

“All right!” said Arthur, trying to be casual but encouraging. The second word mutated into a low moan of relief. There was some splashing through the rain gutters above, and everything was suddenly quiet.

Arthur stretched his wing. It popped a little, but it wasn’t sore at all, even though he was freezing. He enjoyed the heat still running at full blast down his leg and reached into his pants to reroute the flow and warm his other leg. His dick was starting to get hard, and it took a lot of willpower to pull his hand back out.

The front door opened, and Rabb stepped out with a note in her hand. “I got in,” she announced. “I have good news and bad news: which do you want first?” She looked up at Arthur when he didn’t immediately hurry inside. “Why are you just standing there?”

“I’m peeing,” said Arthur, unable to hold back a long sigh. He knew better than to lie to Rabb – she’d know once he got in either way. “I’m almost done though.”

“Oh. Uh. Good,” Rabb hesitated. “Bad news first: Saoirse’s swim meet is an hour away and we missed our ride. But the good news is that we have the house to ourselves until they get back.”

“W-wonderful,” said Arthur. His teeth were starting to chatter. “I’ll dry off and m-make us some p-pizza rolls.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Rabb cackled. “I still don’t think that’s a real thing. Who puts cheese and fruit puree in tiny pies? Completely preposterous.”

Arthur wanted to correct her, but he had to push on his bladder to finish relieving himself. He waited until it had mostly stopped coming out to stump up the stairs to the front door, shaking the water from his feathers before he went inside. As he shut the guest bedroom door it struck him that he felt good. He noticed that he had an erection when he peeled off his pants and underwear, tossing them into the laundry basket with a wet fwop. He searched his coat pockets for his phone before taking that off too.

“What the heck,” groaned Arthur. His body tightened strangely while he rechecked his pockets. “Where is it?” The erection pounding at his waist wasn’t going away, and he leaked a drop of clear fluid from his foreskin onto his clothes. Arthur stole a glance up at the door to make sure it was closed before touching it-

Arthur’s bedroom door opened, revealing Rabb in nothing but a towel. Arthur made eye contact with her as he dribbled a large amount of thick white fluid onto the floor with an ungainly moan.

“Oh uh…” Rabb’s eyes darted between Arthur’s dick and his face. He couldn’t tell whether or not Rabb was blushing under her fur, but saw that her tail was twitching nervously behind her. ” Hey so I still had your phone.” She stretched out to hand it to him and backed out the door. “I’ll just uh…give you a little privacy. While you get dressed.”

“Thanks,” Arthur choked out as Saoirse closed the door.

“Rabb was really understanding about it when I explained,” said Arthur. “The awkwardness wore off after a few weeks, and Rabb still thinks pizza rolls are just something I made up, even though I’ve made them for us.”

By the time Arthur had finished telling his story, Saoirse had pulled out all the ticks, tossing them into the waste bin with all the paper bags and wrappings from their food. The spots on her leg from the ticks were bleeding, but she made quick work of it with her first aid kit.

Saoirse dumped the bin out in a heap in a far corner of the courtyard and checked on Arthur’s clothes on the way in. They were still damp, so Saoirse left them outside; it would be light out for at least another hour, and though the heat was letting up, there was a good breeze going.

“Were my clothes dry?” asked Arthur when Saoirse returned, peeking out of his mound of blankets.

Saoirse shook her head, clearing off the desk. “I’d check in an hour or two. Or in the morning if you’re feeling lazy.”

“What are you planning to do tomorrow?” asked Arthur.

“Get into the blown-out buildings, take more photos, maybe find more stuff,” Saoirse replied absently, thumbing through her notes. “If we find any corpses we’ll have to document it-“

“Saoirse,” sighed Arthur. “If there were any corpses here, you would have smelled them a long time ago. Heck, *I* would’ve smelled it by now.”

“This from the guy who asked me what ghosts smell like,” Saoirse snorted.

Arthur shrugged. “I asked you *if* you could smell ghosts. It’s a practical question, and a simple ‘no’ would’ve sufficed.” He stood up, sporting a sizable bulge in the crotch of his shorts. “I’m gonna go have a pee before bed. You can come too if you like.”

“Like you did to my swim meet?” laughed Saoirse. She grabbed her camera and joined Arthur in the hall. “How long ago was that?”

“Something like fifteen years ago? You were six or seven,” said Arthur uncomfortably. The air warmed as they reached ground level. “It’s so nice up here…why are you bringing the camera?”

“It’s gloaming right now,” said Saoirse. “I was gonna snap a few pictures of the courtyard.” They emerged into a dazzling sunset, retreating to the shade of the opposite row of buildings.

“How long have you been waiting to use that word?” said Arthur, shading them with his wing as they crossed the narrow patch of land.

“Gloaming? Since before I left to come here,” said Saoirse. “That baby’s going into my final thesis too. I don’t care if they dock points for it.”

A minute later they stood at the top of the courtyard. The rise from the hill wasn’t as steep as it had felt walking up, but it afforded them a tree-filtered view of the archaeology camp across the lake over the building containing the gate.

Arthur stood back and looked expectantly at Saoirse. “Aren’t you going to take your photo?” he asked.

Saoirse shrugged. “I have almost an hour for pictures. I was gonna wait until you were finished.”

“Why don’t you get started?” said Arthur. He wasn’t quite able to hide how hard he was. Saoirse didn’t mind, and within fifteen minutes she’d taken all the pictures she’d wanted. Arthur asked her about her photography while she worked, and she had a good time giving him pointers.

“Can I try taking one?” Arthur asked excitedly.

“Maybe later,” said Saoirse with a pang of guilt. “I forgot to clear one of my memory cards before I left, so for every picture I want to take, I have to delete one that’s already on there.”

The sun began to dip below the horizon. Saoirse had taken her last picture near where they’d started at the top of the courtyard, and shaded her eyes as she looked through the photos on her camera. Arthur pulled down his shorts right there and let out a long, shaky breath as he let go.

“How many photos fit on your memory card?” he asked casually. His piss caught the light and it occurred to Saoirse that it was a good angle for a photo. Something was odd about how he held his wing at just the right angle for an unusual composition.

“Two hundred on this camera, but depending on the resolution I can cram an extra twenty or so extra on there,” said Saoirse.

“Can I see it?” Arthur reached out his free hand. “I promise I won’t get it wet.”

“I will if you let me snap a picture of you,” said Saoirse.

“Now?” asked Arthur. Saoirse nodded. “Okay.”

Saoirse angled the camera and got the photo, then handed it to Arthur. The shoulder strap hovered dangerously close to Arthur’s piss stream, and Saoirse reached over to hold it up out of the way while he thumbed through the files.

“Wow, it’s like a professional portrait,” grunted Arthur. He slowed to a dribble, pushed on his bladder, and forced out the rest in a pressurized jet. “Except I’m peeing.”

“Were you holding your wing like that on purpose?” Saoirse took back her camera and slung it around her neck.

“That’s the one I broke,” said Arthur self-consciously. “It does that sometimes…Did you know that your camera has a ten-gigabyte internal memory?”

“Really?” Saoirse scrolled through the menu on the touch screen. “Huh. There is.”

“How many photos is that?” asked Arthur.

“A lot,” said Saoirse. She noticed movement and looked up; Arthur was masturbating, completely nonchalant. “I could help you with that, you know,” she added, lowering her camera.

Arthur swallowed. “Only if you don’t mind not doing oral.”

“What?” Saoirse hadn’t been expecting that. “Why?”

“The dagger root in my medication. I don’t want any chance of poisoning you, especially not with my…you know,” replied Arthur. He allowed Saoirse to sidle up to him.

“You don’t have to be coy about it,” said Saoirse. “And I spit – I don’t like the taste of semen, so it’s not like I’m going to consume it.” Arthur let her grasp his penis.

“If you still really want to do it, you can tomorrow,” moaned Arthur. He ran his hands over his nipples and belly while Saoirse played with his foreskin. “And the offer is still open if you’d like me to…” Arthur took a deep breath, and his body tensed. Saoirse wondered he was about to come for a second, except that he had an odd, determined look on his face.

“Is there a formal term for oral sex on a Renoige pseudopenis?” Arthur gasped. One of his hands twisted back, combing through the feathers on his lower back while he stimulated his nipples.

Saoirse shrugged. “You know, with as many pussies, clits, and dicks as I’ve sucked, I’ve never asked.”

“How many is that?” squeaked Arthur. “If you don’t mind me asking?”

“Hmm…about a dozen, give or take. It’s actually documented on the Speed Dating registry back home,” said Saoirse.

Arthur opened his mouth to say something and came, shooting a heavy rope and quick, continuous drip onto the damp ground in front of him. Saoirse kept going, and Arthur gave a second large burst. His wing curled sideways and he lost his balance trying to stretch it back out. Saoirse caught him, and he finished on her shorts.

“Th-thanks, Rabb,” Arthur gasped, stretching out his wing. “I m-mean Saoirse.”

It suddenly clicked in Saoirse’s head why part of her was so resistant to her liking Arthur: he’d at all times had a enormous crush on Rabb. Saoirse helped Arthur stretch out his wing with an odd cold feeling in her stomach. A few days ago he’d just been some guy she spied on, and even when they’d lived in the same house for six months, she’d maybe only said two sentences to him in that time. As much as they’d been pissing around, they hadn’t marked each other. Couples marked each other, and she and Arthur decidedly were *not* a couple, Saoirse declared inwardly to herself.

They decided to go back to the living quarters for a hot shower before heading to the office. Arthur had put out there that the offer for oral was still open, but Saoirse wasn’t feeling it. Arthur seemed to sense that something was off on their trek across the courtyard.

“If you’re getting cold you can wear my hoodie,” Arthur offered. “You’ll just have to wear it backward with the wing opening over the front.”

“Thanks, but I’m just tired,” lied Saoirse. “And I want to try and get up before sunrise tomorrow.”

The basement seemed even colder than it had before, and Saoirse cuddled up to Arthur under the blankets. The two of them went through the photos on Saoirse’s camera until they fell asleep.