Smut for Punny
That crafty pun! She hypnotized me into writing smut for her. *g*
Too long to put in the comments, so I'm posting it here.
Kal-El has often wondered what crazed Kryptonian parents first had the idea of bringing their child to Cathor for their seventeenth birthday, to celebrate the age of ascension with Molvaran wine and a trip to one of the planet's many brothels. But then, his people's attitude toward sex has always struck him as strangely contradictory. On Krypton, married people never touch in public, an absolute taboo, and yet there is an almost abhorrence of virginity. "A negative state," his father calls it. Something to be remedied at the first appropriate opportunity.
And now it is Kal's turn.
"Here, son." His father leads the way into a place called "The Elusive Jewel."
Inside, the room is dark, music so loud it throbs in the air. It takes a moment for Kal's eyes to adjust, and then he feels a desperate heat flare in his cheeks. There are naked people here. So many naked people.
His father gives him a rare smile. "Take your time, look around. You can have anything you want, my son."
Kal swallows hard, and his eyes fasten on the floor. He can't help himself.
"You're an adult now, Kal-El," his father tells him sternly. "You really must start acting like one."
He turns curtly on his heel, off to the bar for a drink, leaving Kal to founder on his own among the nakedness. He lets out a sigh and does his best to look in some direction where he won't be staring right at a bare breast or a flushed cock.
Still, he supposes it is an improvement over the ancient rituals. They learned in school that parents long ago were on hand to witness their child's defloration, to offer advice, make sure innocence was thoroughly disposed of. Kal-El feels certain that if he had his father issuing commands at him, criticizing his technique as he tried to make love for the first time, he'd probably end up a virgin for life.
He soon begins to fear that this will be his fate anyway, even without his father's interference. So many choices, so many species, and he feels nothing but embarrasment.
Until he catches sight of the bare-headed alien. The man is half hard, leaning against a pillar, an almost defiant laziness to his pose. A Gniizulk leans over him, its fur turned deep indigo with arousal, one yellowed talon circling the alien's soft, pink nipple. The alien watches the play of its claw, smiling faintly, and casually pumps his cock, making the Gniizulk's fur shiver.
Kal knows he shouldn't stare--Kryptonians don't do such things--but this picture is just so...wrong, the imminently touchable alien and the claw-handed Gniizulk. The alien catches his eye, an insolence lurking beneath the smolder of his gaze. Kal feels paralyzed by it, and now he can't look away. The alien tilts his head, as if considering, and then slips out of the Gniizulk's grasp. When it howls its protest and grabs at him, the alien nods his head in Kal's direction. Kryptonians get preferential treatment on Cathor, everyone knows that, and the creature makes an ugly noise as it lumbers off in defeat.
The alien approaches, and Kal feels his throat tighten, his mouth go dry, all that smooth, bare skin coming his way. Only then does he see the mark, the familiar insignia on the man's hip, given to all slaves taken in Cathor's military conquests. This alien once had a different life, as something other than a whore, Kal feels sure of it. The way he moves, though. Clearly he's learned his new profession well.
"Another Kryptonian boy," the alien says as he joins Kal, smiling softly.
Kal feels the rush of heat to his cheeks again, but it's different this time, tinged with awareness. He can imagine how Kryptonians must appear to the people here, like flesh-grubbing hypocrites with their careless wealth and their sanctimony. He stares miserably down at the floor, so pained by the thought that it's hard to breathe.
The alien mistakes the cause of his distress and lifts Kal's chin gently with his fingers. His gray eyes are flecked in places with blue, and the expression in them is playful. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of you."
Kal feels the words all over his body. He doesn't even realize what he's doing until his hand is on the alien's naked hip, his thumb stroking in circles. His body is suddenly much too hot, in places that embarrass him, and the desire to lean in, press his lips to the soft skin of the alien's throat is simply too much to resist. When he pulls away, rather clumsily, he's shaking all over.
"Come with me." The alien holds out his hand.
And Kal doesn't hesitate this time. He takes it.
Too long to put in the comments, so I'm posting it here.
Kal-El has often wondered what crazed Kryptonian parents first had the idea of bringing their child to Cathor for their seventeenth birthday, to celebrate the age of ascension with Molvaran wine and a trip to one of the planet's many brothels. But then, his people's attitude toward sex has always struck him as strangely contradictory. On Krypton, married people never touch in public, an absolute taboo, and yet there is an almost abhorrence of virginity. "A negative state," his father calls it. Something to be remedied at the first appropriate opportunity.
And now it is Kal's turn.
"Here, son." His father leads the way into a place called "The Elusive Jewel."
Inside, the room is dark, music so loud it throbs in the air. It takes a moment for Kal's eyes to adjust, and then he feels a desperate heat flare in his cheeks. There are naked people here. So many naked people.
His father gives him a rare smile. "Take your time, look around. You can have anything you want, my son."
Kal swallows hard, and his eyes fasten on the floor. He can't help himself.
"You're an adult now, Kal-El," his father tells him sternly. "You really must start acting like one."
He turns curtly on his heel, off to the bar for a drink, leaving Kal to founder on his own among the nakedness. He lets out a sigh and does his best to look in some direction where he won't be staring right at a bare breast or a flushed cock.
Still, he supposes it is an improvement over the ancient rituals. They learned in school that parents long ago were on hand to witness their child's defloration, to offer advice, make sure innocence was thoroughly disposed of. Kal-El feels certain that if he had his father issuing commands at him, criticizing his technique as he tried to make love for the first time, he'd probably end up a virgin for life.
He soon begins to fear that this will be his fate anyway, even without his father's interference. So many choices, so many species, and he feels nothing but embarrasment.
Until he catches sight of the bare-headed alien. The man is half hard, leaning against a pillar, an almost defiant laziness to his pose. A Gniizulk leans over him, its fur turned deep indigo with arousal, one yellowed talon circling the alien's soft, pink nipple. The alien watches the play of its claw, smiling faintly, and casually pumps his cock, making the Gniizulk's fur shiver.
Kal knows he shouldn't stare--Kryptonians don't do such things--but this picture is just so...wrong, the imminently touchable alien and the claw-handed Gniizulk. The alien catches his eye, an insolence lurking beneath the smolder of his gaze. Kal feels paralyzed by it, and now he can't look away. The alien tilts his head, as if considering, and then slips out of the Gniizulk's grasp. When it howls its protest and grabs at him, the alien nods his head in Kal's direction. Kryptonians get preferential treatment on Cathor, everyone knows that, and the creature makes an ugly noise as it lumbers off in defeat.
The alien approaches, and Kal feels his throat tighten, his mouth go dry, all that smooth, bare skin coming his way. Only then does he see the mark, the familiar insignia on the man's hip, given to all slaves taken in Cathor's military conquests. This alien once had a different life, as something other than a whore, Kal feels sure of it. The way he moves, though. Clearly he's learned his new profession well.
"Another Kryptonian boy," the alien says as he joins Kal, smiling softly.
Kal feels the rush of heat to his cheeks again, but it's different this time, tinged with awareness. He can imagine how Kryptonians must appear to the people here, like flesh-grubbing hypocrites with their careless wealth and their sanctimony. He stares miserably down at the floor, so pained by the thought that it's hard to breathe.
The alien mistakes the cause of his distress and lifts Kal's chin gently with his fingers. His gray eyes are flecked in places with blue, and the expression in them is playful. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of you."
Kal feels the words all over his body. He doesn't even realize what he's doing until his hand is on the alien's naked hip, his thumb stroking in circles. His body is suddenly much too hot, in places that embarrass him, and the desire to lean in, press his lips to the soft skin of the alien's throat is simply too much to resist. When he pulls away, rather clumsily, he's shaking all over.
"Come with me." The alien holds out his hand.
And Kal doesn't hesitate this time. He takes it.