Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

sexual themes

Not clowning around with this one. Every post has it. Children and sex-repulsed people do not read.

Beneath the luster of Orion's stars, something large and blue trundles in, to the center of the room; into the center of its arena. In the very heart of Orion itself, a stranger throws his head back, sucks in a deep breath. Something beautiful is about to bloom here. Something... fruity.

"PLOOOOOVEEEEERRRRRRR!!!!!"

The roar is so tremendous, it can probably be heard from the next cave over.

There'd been quite a bit of melancholy in Audland's life recently. Too much. A simple creature like him wasn't designed to have or to hold all those conflicting thoughts. It was too big for him. (But you know who wasn't too big for him?) So he called the one person he could think of who had the best shot at taking all those thoughts away.

"Come to me." The words came out as a rumbling purr, slid through the jagged edges of his toothsome smirk.

@Plover

Truly, it's just a great coincidence that such a tremendous roar is within earshot of its recipient. Like, easy earshot; hop-skip-and-a-jump-away earshot. Why, yes, the Arena's got some great grub for a good day of hogging out, but the novelty of slushies and kettle corn wears off when you can just plant your fat ass down in the cinemas instead and watch Rodd Danger until your eyes are about to fall outta your dome.

But, coincidence and a very grimy-looking red string of fate has lead a certain green thing to decide on a change of pace for snacking up and yes indeed the summons reach exactly who they're supposed to. Even if the big guy might think otherwise for a second.

Plover, lounging in all xir green glory in the grandstands and somehow gone unnoticed, casts aside the super-sized XXL bucket of popcorn in xir lap and rises with all the noble grace of a king about to address his audience. (Grace being used generously here, because xe is simultaneously slurping at the buttery residue on xir own chin.)

Except xe doesn't get all the way to xir feet, instead crouching for a moment while xe gathers all the breath in xir lungs.

Coiling up all the might of xir startlingly muscled haunches and focusing on the idea of being elastic like the bouncy rubber ball xir Dad had given xem once to stim with (which was chewed in half and eaten at some point by someone totally not four-armed and sharp-toothed) (and not focusing on how much smaller Audland seems to be because surely that's just the distance talking), Plover almost shouts a moment too soon—

Ok. Ok. All systems go.

THREE. TWO. ONE: LIFTOFF!

"CAAAAAANNONBAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLL!"

If Audland were to look up, he would see a perfectly rotund, hairy form eclipsing the brightest lights of Orion's skies; a incandescent green meteor heading directly for him, howling with "GAHAHAHAHA!"ing laughter as xe hits something like terminal velocity seconds after reaching the peak of xir arcing leap.

@Audland

And hit with the punk tactics Audland would gladly, gleefully be.

He didn't notice the motion—it happened in his blind spot. But the big blue ball absolutely did notice the larger—larger?!—green ball's abrupt and meteoric leap and fall. Audland grinned up at his... friend. Audland positively beamed, although his smiles always held onto a bit of sleaze. His blue, fluffy arms outstretched, Audland had intended to catch his big, beautiful green counterpart—

—but realized all too late that Bounce doesn't make one lighter, just squishier. "HAH!" Audland barked as all the air was rapidly crushed out of his lungs by two solid tons of force. "yOu goT biGgeR!" Audland's voice came out as a wheeze from beneath Plover's great girth. If Plover moved up just a little to let him breathe, Audland's "Fan-TASTIC!" would sound much more lively. If not, however, it would come out as yet another pitiful yet playful wheeze.

Audland savored the sensation, for a moment, of being buried in Plover's fur and mass. Xe smelled different. Xe smelled of food! The kind that they'd eaten soon after their first meeting. If you could call that a meeting.

Audland hugged xem tight as he could from his place on the ground, and... wow. Either oxygen was like a super crucial and necessary part of muscular motion, or Plover had grown three feet tall and many more feet wide since the last time Audland had seen xem.

It made him happy. It made him hungry, in more ways than one. And that sensation surprised Audland—the little worming feeling that never seemed to want to leave him. The pea under his mattress he couldn't help but notice. But Audland didn't care so much about that right now, and that's honestly what surprised him more. No fire. No blood. Not... yet, anyway.

"Y-er gonna hav tah get off me, big boy," said as airlessly as Plover permitted.

@Plover

With a little help from some big, strong— (just like xe remembered!)— arms, Plover perfectly sticks the landing, and latches on with all four arms like some horrible manner of brain-sucking parasitic crustacean; threading xir grubby mitts through the tangled mess of pearly-yucky hair at Audland's back, with one hand curling around his impressive rack (OF ANTLERS) to give him a good, impulsive rattle of the dome as he wheezes.

Laughing— ear-shatteringly loud as usual— at his misfortune of being starved for air, Plover shifts back to xir haunches, squirming to seat xemself upon Audland's lap even though not even that is a worthy enough throne and xe ends up in a straddle not awkward enough to make xem move. (Not that xe would, because xe quite likes the view, and if it were somehow possible for xem to look even more like the cat who's caught the canary, xe does it: Grinning big, wide, and planting all four hands on various parts of Audland's front.

"I THOUGHT YOU'D GET BIGGER, PIPSQUEAK!" Plover punctuates this with a laugh and teasing pinch of the fingers at a roll of Kippie-blue fur and mass just beneath Auddie's chest. Giving it a good squeeze like they're familiar with each other, Plover lets it go and palms his belly instead. "LEAST YOU DIDN'T GET ANY SMALLER."

And if anyone were ever to sound so audibly relived as to cause pure whiplash when xe pivots to a challenge, it's Plover.

Xe leans in real close, one hand braced on the dirt and the other three still patting at Auddie, and grins. "C'MON, L'IL GUY. YOU CAN STILL KICK MY ASS, RIGHT? OBVIOUSLY THIS AIN'T A DINNER DATE. UNLESS..."

@Audland

Audland reveled in the bubbliness of their reunion. It was the same squirming worm buried deeper in his gut than Plover's many strong hands could reach, and it writhed and sung the same songs, but it could not be for more different situations. People. The thoughts played ambiently in the back of Audland's head like a radio. Party in the back, business in the front.

Business meaning stoicism. Audland had to keep a... straight...ish face out here. But Plover's evergreen grinning was a most effective contagion. Audland was smiling as he snorted in disbelief. "I didn't think you could get any bigger, ya damn whale!" All affection. Plover would probably take it that way.

He tried, he tried as hard as he could—like god's gayest soldier—not to notice anything more about bodies. About Plover's, and his own. The gentle tug on his horns, the pressure on his chest, the placement on his lap. He tried not to remember the images of bodies curling and coiling, fur and blood mixing—he tried so dang hard. The radio static was cranked so loud he could barely hear nor see anything going on outside of his brain's tunnel vision. Touch—touch is a drug. Noticing every hand placement, every texture, every perk and prick of sensation... the closeness of Plover's stinky breath, brought only closer as Plover said some words Audland figured he should probably care about. That he did care about, just—it was enough to make the touch-starved vomit oil. Audland wasn't going to do that right now.

Instead, before he could stop himself, Audland's smiling body was going to make decisions for him. He would slide a little up, and if Plover would permit it, Audland would use a hand to prop up his torso at an angle. He'd move his own head even closer to Plover's—nearly snout to snout—while his free hand would come up to cup Plover's fluffy puffy cheek. He fully expected Plover not to break that single breath of a gap between their faces.

Plover's breath. Plover's chest. Plover's rhythmically beating heart. Could he hear it? Oh my god, what was he doing? Oh my god, he was gonna throw up—

Breath. Plover's stinky, stinky breath. Audland's wasn't any better. Audland turned his face away, to one side. Holy mother of cave Jesus. Breathe. Take a breath—and not the kind that makes those facial scars itch. Giving Plover a more composed side-stare, Audland now felt the space in his arteries to reply: "Hey now, I ain't little." Audland would rustle Plover's fluffy puffy head with that occupied hand. "An' dinner's exactly what I wanted to talk to ya about. If you'd allow me to explain,"

Audland would try to break contact and get up and out of their bromantic wrestling hold. If Plover would let him. He'd offer a hand up once he got on his two feet. "I, o' course, can beat yer little bee-hind into next cycle. But, I wanna set some ground rules first." Audland hadn't expected Plover to start out with this much contact—I mean conmbat readiness. Such a fool he'd been. "Number one: magic's allowed, pain's allowed, but no death and no chrysalis. Just a few holds barred, but," as Plover was likely rising, perhaps with Audland's assistance, Audland gleaming yellow gaze would cut straight into xer beady little eyes, "I still wanna feel your blood runnin'." Whatever that meant.

"Number two's that we got five rounds only. We're gonna wanna be quick, and that's because ah number three: winner winner, big fat dinner." He'd give Plover his dirty, lopsided grin. "Loser presents winner the cake." Get your mind out of the gutter you gay-a%# Ancient Roman. "Winner's choice of food, loser has to make it." Audland would fold his arms and lean in, craning his neck up to see the head of the three-foot-taller titan. "How's that grab ya?" Answer better be like 4 pairs of hands and twenty delectable fingers, or Audland would eat the hat he didn't have.

@Plover