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this-game-has-themes · 2 months ago

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Three years onward, Howler should have no reason to go back to what has been built up around the Monsaic Lines. There should be nothing left for her there, but that's where He is, and how he treats her unlike anyone else has left her wanting.

[NSFW for complex genderplay alien sex]

“If this is how you treat a queen, I’d hate to see how you treat a lady - ow!” Howler snarled, but couldn’t do much more than flinch away from the speartips that urged her forward.

There was something uniquely humiliating about getting shown up by the naturalists and natives that had taken to the Monsaics in the south. Howler, admittedly, had gotten a little too used to her guns and grimy, repurposed technology. When she got jumped she expected a firefight; either raiders or sligs, both of which were increasingly sparse the closer you got to the Monsaic Lines.

It felt like a deliberate walk of shame, being marched up from her holding cell in the scrub quarter and towards the older, more traditional architecture that made up the settlement. Howler remembered when it was a ghost town; the remains of whoever had last taken up stewardship of the temples, with only a few strays still holding onto it by the time the revolution had set up shop.

While the parts of the settlement the Followers took up had been somewhat modernized to adapt to both contemporary comforts and population density, the dwellings of the natives were virtually untouched. Relics of an age that its own people were rapidly outgrowing. Even if Howler had been hatched in a place like this, the snide, cynical part of her questioned if it was worth keeping up with the nostalgia at all.

If she had to abandon her ways, a small part of her wished everyone else would follow suit.

She still recognized the aesthetic markers of a medicinemud’s hut, the next best thing a village had to leadership without a proper Queen. She remembered the maskholder she met there back in the day, and she was not looking forward to a reunion. All that jackshit nonsense about broken prophecy and wasted potential left a sour taste in her mouth, as if the universe had accumulated all of its contempt for her to make one singular, smug old witch-mud to broadcast it through. Still, she would have preferred Bigface to Abe. As they approached, she was hoping more and more that this wasn’t going to be Abe.

One of the spearmuds that escorted her pulled back the thick curtain that covered the doorway, and another poked her until she ducked inside. A familiar, smoky atmosphere hit her nostrils. Incense that took her back to times she was better off forgetting, leaving her with the same gnawing homesickness that hit her like a brick the first time she stepped into the hut.

That homesickness plummeted into the pit of her stomach when she saw who they were bringing her to. Howler squared her shoulders, and straightened out of the defensive hunch the spears had backed her into. She couldn’t make it seem like they were a threat, not around him.

He kept his back to his visitor for a moment before finally acknowledging her. Like she was either not as important, or not as much of a threat for him to keep a wary eye on her. Like she would on him. His movements were sluggish, but not in that smugly relaxed, in-control way Howler played up around her gang. Howler probably knew better than anyone else that Abe was, genuinely, exhausted.

In the few years since they had last seen each other, they both had grown their feathers out. His made up a long, lush plume tied back as it always was; a far cry from the limp little topknot Howler remembered. Her own feathers were… less than impressive, but she still plucked, and it still showed in the patchy, uneven quality of her plumage.

He looked a little healthier, and that was admittedly reassuring to see. A lot of these liberated scrubstock were slowly growing out of the pitiful states slavery forced upon them. The wiry muscle of a laborer didn’t look so withered and sickly on him now; he was lanky still, but he had grown into this… ‘heroic’ air that Howler was sure he relied on for the optics. When he stood straighter than he used to, it pointed out that he was taller than she was, and she still didn’t like that. She didn’t want to be looked down on by him.

Most surprisingly, he was less depressively blue-tinted than he was when she left. He was still blue, yes, but healthier greens and purples were coming through the unhealthy coloration, showing on his uncovered limbs. His chest, the mark of the Shrykull, was covered. He had covered all of the brands that marked him by terrible purpose.

It made Howler feel… something, to see how much better off he seemed to be without her. But she still refused to make it seem like she was moved in any way by seeing him. She acknowledged him with feigned reluctance. “Abraham.”

Abe’s lips, still sewn, pursed as his calm expression fell. “Howler.”

The former scrub glanced at the spearmuds behind her, and waved them off dismissively. “You guys go on, I can handle her.”

The muds, former scrubs and probably previous RuptureFarms stock themselves, looked a little uncertain when they still regarded Howler with such caution. Still, they obeyed, and left the two of them alone.

Howler didn’t think she would get this far. She vaguely hoped that reuniting with him would have seen their current circumstances reversed. Abe turned his attention on her again, that same sullenness she had left him with the first time around still lingering behind his eyes.

“Alright, what are you doing here, Howler?” Abe asked her, already sounding exasperated.

“What, I can’t just visit sometimes? I left other people here besides you, you know.” Howler scoffed back.

“Well, I appreciate that you didn’t make a scene, or anything,” Abe ran a bandaged hand through his plumage. “But I don’t know what you were thinking, trying to sneak in here. It would have been less suspicious if you just showed up.”

“If I just showed up, I would have made you think I actually wanted to see you.”

“I would have gladly ignored you if you didn’t look like a threat.” Abe matched the ire in Howler’s tone, and they shared a similar annoyance in their expressions and body language. They stared each other down for a tense moment, until one of them had to break.

Howler huffed, coming out as static through her voice modulator. “Why do you think I came alone?”

Abe crossed his purple-mottled arms. “Because your ‘boys’ cause more of a scene than you do.”

“I got no reason to drag the whole gang with me when I’m just stopping by.” Howler stopped herself short of tugging at her feathers, that old compulsion to feel around her scalp to pluck never quite going away. “Look, I’m just… sorry I got caught. I got no beef with you, mud, just stop treatin’ me like a criminal and I’ll stop actin’ like one.”

“It goes a little deeper than that.” Abe looked unconvinced at the somber expression on her face, her downcast eyes looking distantly at the mat-covered ground. Silence fell between them again; awkward and tense, leaving a lingering feeling that both of them could be saying so much more. Howler felt like she was being very generous by not doing so.

Abe’s shoulders sagged, his posture drooping back into that more familiar scrub hunch. That heroic air flickered out like a busted light. He mulled over his words, and seemed very reluctant to say “Well, I don’t want to keep ya, or anything, but… I dunno. You wanna go over to the scrub quarter and get some tea?”

Howler practically did a double take, her eyes lighting up with something other than surprise. “Well, I was already headed in that direction, so… sure?”

There were still scorch marks on some of the metal panelling that made up the walls of the bar. The bits and pieces from the wreckage of RuptureFarms were still recognizable, no matter what sort of life they helped rebuild now. It was yet another point of contention between the natives and the freemuds: they brought the factory with them, in a sense.

Howler wondered if she would have been on the natives’ side of this ongoing tension, had she never been enslaved. Even if she held some lingering prejudice towards scrubsto- scrubkind, she still had more in common with them than the people she was taken from. She had to come to terms with that, but it helped to hold onto the friendships she had made in servitude. She was accustomed to being isolated from other correctives; here the freemuds knew her, they treated her like one of their own. Even after everything she did.

It made visiting them bittersweet, knowing she couldn't just stay. She couldn’t just settle. Much like Abe, she was bound by terrible purpose, and this revolution wasn’t going to run itself. She still had so much to do.

But right now, she can stop. She can sit down, and she can rest.

Even if having Abe in the room was making this extremely awkward. Alf wasn’t helping, immediately laughing when she stepped in, making it very apparent to Abe very fast that her visit was not, in fact, a one-time thing.

“Yeah, I dunno how you didn’t find out sooner. Howler’s been sneaking in here like, every couple of months.” The lanky mud shrugged bare, sunburnt shoulders. Howler was pointedly looking away from his barechestedness. Put those away.

Abe gawked at what Alf mentioned so offhandedly. He looked between his friend and his ex incredulously. “Seriously? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Well, I thought you knew, considerin’... you know.” As Alf sat down between them, he gestured to the former couple on either side of him. Howler looked uncharacteristically bashful.

“Already told you, I didn’t want to cause trouble.”

“I thought you would be miles away,” Abe admitted, “I thought you were in like, I dunno, Nolybab.”

Howler sipped from her cup. “We’re in the industrial wastes these days, mostly. Up around Feeco, harassing the supply lines. Hitting up those groundbound Vykker labs.”

Abe frowned. “Hmm, yeah I remember a few of those being pinned on me.”

“Well if you’re sittin’ on your ass playin’ mayor of shantytown over here, somebody’s gotta keep the pressure on the Glukks.” Howler shot him a look, from the several spaces they deliberately kept between them at the bar. “Somebody’s gotta keep bein’ a damn revolutionary.”

Abe practically flinched, hiding his discomfort with a drink. “Can we not… talk about the revolution, for once.”

“Not much else goin’ on to catch up about.”

Before that awkward silence could settle in, Alf piped up. “Now, that’s not true. All sorts a’ stuff’s been happenin’ on our end. A whole pack of former Bonewerkz guys split off and set up shop where they sealed off the mines.”

Howler nodded. “Yeah, who’d ya think helped ‘em clear out the rest of the sligs and score supplies?”

“Oh, that was you? Bang on.”

Beside Alf, Abe stirred uncomfortably. Howler, unfortunately, noticed.

“A lotta muds are returning to the factories, I’ve noticed,” she said, “not to work, but to live. Gutting the places and making them homes. Reclaiming the shit they made us build in the first place.”

She shrugged, feigning casualness. “Makes sense, in my opinion. Not a lotta muds yearning to ‘return to nature’.”

Abe sighed quietly, staring at the cup in his hands. “Yeah, I know.”

“Means me n’ my own are never out of a job. Always gotta keep beating back cartel thugs trying to take back their turf. Union Busters, we’ve been callin’ them. The fucks that think they own these places because they put us to work there in the first place.”

Howler could have sworn that Abe’s eyes briefly flicked over to her at the mention of us. She revelled in entertaining the idea that she was twisting the knife. “...Yeah, things’ve been goin’ real well on my end, I’d say. What about you, Abe?”

She smiled innocently at the look he gave her.

“Well…” Abe began, only to trail off awkwardly into silence. He looked up to see the other two staring at him, and he faltered.

“It’s been tough, keepin’ everyone together. A lot of muds really are going back to the factories. And the tribes, well, they say they belong there.” Abe kept his eyes on the tea still left in his mug, scarred fingers tracing the rim pensively. “I don’t believe that’s true. I don’t want us to be divided, that’s what the Glukkons want in the first place.”

“Ain’t our fault,” Howler’s voice crackled low through her modulator, “the natives are the ones dividing us. Tellin’ muds to leave their whole lives behind just for the privilege of shittin’ in the woods. I don’t blame the reclaimers.”

Abe seemed noticeably annoyed with each continued use of ‘us’ and ‘our’. His expression soured more and more until finally, he remarked: “I don’t think you get to call yourself a scrub after just three months in the factory.”

Howler matched that tone, and then some. “I don’t think you get to call yourself native for just bein’ their schmuck.”

“I never called myself one of them.”

Between them, Alf looked increasingly aware of the metaphorical and literal role he was playing, keeping them both at arm’s length. He had been dodging the looks the estranged couple had been shooting each other this entire time, but he was rooted to the spot. He was, unfortunately, quite aware of what could happen when they’re left alone.

The repurposed door at the back of the bar opening was an opportunity he took immediately. The squeak of its rusted hinges stopped the halted argument, and the mud that walked out made Howler swallow whatever cruel words she had lined up.

Alf made a show of stretching and pretending to yawn as he got to his feet. “Weeell, ‘s been nice catchin’ up with ya, Howler, but I got another uh, group therapy sesh lined up back at the fire pit. Better get ready.” As he left conspicuously quickly, Abe shot him a pleading look that he didn’t quite catch.

Howler remained silent as Alf paused at the door, and leaned in close to whisper something into the ear of a smaller, hunched over mud. She wasn’t privy to what was said, but the grimace it brought to his weathered face told her enough.

Lenny didn’t look terribly happy to be placed in between the former couple, but seeing Howler stare fixedly at him made his expression soften. He took Alf’s previous seat, and maintained the distance between them as he gave the guest a mock admonishing look. “Who let your ass through the gate?”

“Didn’t use the gate.” Howler happily pointed out, her mood shifting immediately.

Abe watched the two share a one armed hug that lingered slightly too long. Enough that Howler’s eyes fluttered closed, smelling the ever-present odor of lungbuster smoke on the older mud’s neck.

Lenny regarded Abe with a much more restrained, neutral nod of acknowledgment. It felt like a slight, with how on edge Howler had already made him. Somehow it didn’t help that their argument had all but been forgotten in an instant, and Howler’s sole attention was on the underwhelming little mud who still wore civilian clothes.

“Hope I’m not, ah, interrupting anything.” Lenny snuck a look out of the corner of his eye towards Howler, who shifted awkwardly in her seat. “Certainly not every day I see you two in the same room.”

For good reason, Abe almost said. But he refrained. “Howler tripped the alarms, they took her to me because they didn’t know what else to do with her.”

“Yeah, thought as much.” Lenny gave Howler that look again. Sly and knowing, privy to something Abe clearly wasn’t. It shouldn’t have made his stomach turn when he realized this was the friend she was sneaking around just to see.

But, she didn’t need to sneak around. Not around him, at least.

Unless…

“Yeah, I ain’t built for stealth, if ya haven't noticed.” Howler unsubtly flexed her thick arms. She gained back the weight that factory life had taken from her, but her new life as a rebel had hardened her; bringing out the muscle that lay underneath the softness Abe remembered.

Lenny snuck a glance towards her muscles, and hid a small smile. “Hmm. You better be behavin’ yourself out there, stu- mud.” He corrected himself, just in time.

“Oh, you know how it is.” Howler was brazen in how her body language changed, relaxed and languid on her barstool. She turned towards Lenny with her broad thighs spread, leaning against the counter to rest her cheek in her hand, all to keep her attention on him. “Keepin’ the cartel off your backs means bustin’ a few heads and blowin’ up a few important buildings.”

Lenny’s posture had similarly relaxed, though in the more restrained way Abe was accustomed to seeing with him. “Your boys stayin’ out of trouble?”

Howler laughed softly. A subtle yellow-orange tinge rose in her cheeks. Abe looked away quickly, and he couldn’t hear her answer through the sound of his pulse thumping in his ears.

He remembered when she flirted with other muds, but it wasn’t like… this. Was it flirting? With him? His brother’s boyfriend? This was low, even for her.

It was surely the taboo of it that struck him so hard, so fast.

“I- I should… probably get going.” Abe slid off his barstool, and found himself uneasy on his feet. Once he got that far, he found himself freezing under the gaze of the two muds. He quickly added, “it’s getting late and I need to get my meditation in.”

Lenny raised a withered eyebrow, but ultimately shrugged him off. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Howler regarded him with a cool, characteristically smug look. “Abraham.”

Abe stopped himself short of replying, remembering that unlike her, he didn’t know Howler’s ‘real’ name. As he rushed to leave, he slammed the door closed a little too quickly.

The echo of it rang in Howler’s ears for a moment before fading into silence. After a beat, she flinched when Lenny swatted her on the arm. “The hell is your problem,” he hissed, “makin’ eyes at me like that in broad daylight - in front of him.”

“You were doing it too.” Howler countered, and from the scowl he gave her she knew she was at least partly right.

Lenny glanced back at the door, a look of concern dawning on his face. It was a concern Howler didn’t share, nudging him to draw his attention back to her. “Oh, c‘mon. He won’t say anything. What’s he gonna do, huh? I’m not with him anymore.”

“I’m with someone.” The older mud shut her down with a grave seriousness in his voice. It lasted for but a moment, when Howler held up a finger.

“You might be tied down, but Lola aint.”

Lenny sighed, closed his eyes, and carefully stretched out against the perpetual hunch of his ailing back.

“... You’re a real piece of work, boy.”

Howler grinned. There was a familiar twinge of excitement from the way he referred to her so sincerely, so casually. A surge of confidence rushed to her head, and it made her straighten out her posture and square her shoulders, accentuating their difference in size.

“You wanna get outta here, already?”

It was increasingly harder to find quiet places to fool around in, as the village became more of a town over the course of the liberation. The home they made for themselves here was bustling into the late hours of the night, lit up like a beacon from a mix of electric lights and torches.

It was heartening to come back, and see the Monsaics changing a little bit more every time. The dwellings being built up, the beginnings of proper infrastructure being developed. Howler had to hand it to them, she was impressed with how far they had come within a few years. She didn’t have high hopes for them in the beginning, and this time it was good to be proven wrong.

Eventually, they ran out of village and started walking into the jungle. The trail was well worn at this point, because the cliffside they were headed towards was a fairly popular spot; be it for moongazing, or making out, or gloating.

Howler was often doing the latter. In the moonlight, the remnants of RuptureFarms was a dark, broken silhouette on the wasteland horizon spread out before them. While Molluck’s wretched factory decayed like a corpse, the Monsaic Lines had flourished. Mudokons had flourished.

“Never gets old, does it?” Howler’s tone softened with reverence. “I mean. You see a lot of wrecked factories nowadays, but… nothin’ comes close to the original, don’t it.”

Lenny spoke around the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. “Yer damn right.”

“Could’ve done the same to Feeco if that wouldn’t fuck us over too.”

“Nah… the rails are in good hands, now.” Howler watched fixedly the slow, lazy movements of Lenny’s hand taking the lungbuster between his fingers, and flicking off the excess ash. “What ones the Magog haven’t tried to blow up.”

“Mmn.” Something caught Howler’s eye over the horizon. She squinted, and could just barely make out a thin, gray plume of smoke rising into the night sky. “... Huh. There’s someone over there.”

“Yeah,” Lenny barely acknowledged it with the same concern she did. “Some of the 300 split off a while back, they went back over there to reclaim what’s left of it.”

It wasn’t too surprising, but just enough that it raised Howler’s eyebrows. “Damn, there’s even RuptureFarms boys fuckin’ off now? Thought those guys were ride or die for Abe.”

“I don’t think anyone’s ride or die for Abe. If I’m bein’ honest.” Lenny scoffed under his breath. He took another drag, and Howler’s mouth watered as she watched his lips. The conversation suddenly wasn’t important anymore.

Howler leaned in close before asking, “can I take a hit”, and Lenny sucked in another lungful of smoke that he held, then shotgunned into her open mouth. Their lips met. Nicotine and something else, something indescribable made her head swim.

The kiss deepened. He tasted like a fucking ashtray, but at this point the taste was irrevocably linked to excitement and arousal for her. A synthetic moan crackled from her voicebox. Coaxing the sound out of her made him chuckle against her mouth.

When Lenny finally pulled away, Howler felt lightheaded. She felt powerful. She felt…

“Handsome,” the old mud purred, “are we still shootin’ the shit, or are we doin’ this?”

It took a moment for the gears to start turning in Howler’s head again. When they did, she quickly scrambled to fumble with her belt.

Lenny assisted with pulling her ratty jeans over her hips, leaving them bunched up around her knees. It was good enough, for now. He wasted no time getting into it.

There was a broad and exhilarated grin on Howler’s face long before she felt his mouth on her. It hit her immediately; the tongue dipping into the slit of her cloaca, stopping to tease the sensitive nub of flesh at the bottom until it emerged into the open air.

Her dick didn’t even do that before fooling around with these two. She let out a breathy laugh. Pleasure shocked through her like an electric current.

She loved Abe, once. She really did. But even then, she kept going back to her. And eventually, it led to her going back to him; that’s when she realized that maybe this was more than just some one-off, quick n’ dirty fling to make up for bad sex. It wasn’t just Lola’s charms pulling her in, it was also that soft touch that belonged to Lenny. Equally starved, equally deprived of true affection. Similarly hurt, similarly used, he extended an understanding to her that she could reciprocate on her own terms.

Intimacy was one thing. So was love. But they both wanted to fuck, and they wanted to revel in it. After a miserable lifetime of sex being a tool, a survival tactic, sex could finally just be for fun. It was just a shame that she couldn’t have fun like this with Abe. Their separation was a relief, in this sense. Even if Howler felt… less guilty than she probably should have.

Howler shuddered fitfully, overstimulated from the attention Lenny lavished on her cock. Her cock - a distinction that only Lenny and Lola made. Howler wasn’t a queen around them, and she didn’t even have to ask. They just knew.

It felt incredible, feeling Known. Even if she wasn’t sure exactly what they were acknowledging within her when they called her handsome, or a stud, or a man. But it was exciting. It made her feel young, it made her feel new. It made her feel like herself, whoever that was.

“You still with me, big guy?” Lenny paused to ask. Howler had thrown her head back, eyes closed with her face a mask of overwhelmed ecstasy. She replied by pushing him back down, which he responded to with a muffled moan against her slit.

Lenny was the one who preferred men, but he didn’t handle her like he did. Then again, he was consistent with referring to her as a man, so who was to say if she went against his usual tastes or not. He only called her a queen once, and that was to emphasize his own infatuation with her. She was beautiful, she was powerful, he wanted to be her.

So, Howler extended that unique kindness he gave to her. He was her woman, her pretty girl; even if it risked making Lola jealous. Howler couldn’t possibly fathom whatever situation the two of them had going on, but that in itself had become part of the fun. Lola was allowed to fuck around, because that was simply what she did. Getting to use that as an excuse to keep seeing Lenny was just a bonus.

Would Alf find out eventually? Probably. Could Howler spin his attraction to her into leveraging his acceptance of it? She was prepared to do that. She was willing to do a lot of stupid things for Lenny, especially right now, in this moment.

A cute girl like him sucking her cock made her feel on top of the world. Arousal ached through her, radiating from the very core of her and making her extremities feel numb. As she climbed that peak, she encouraged him by holding him firmly in place; grabbing him by his feathers hard enough to draw a debauched groan out of him. He was getting sloppier, more desperate to finish her off himself. At some point, he had snuck a hand down his own trousers, his narrow hips bucking periodically.

Howler imagined he was fingering himself then, and that was all it took to push her over the edge. Her body tensed against the jerky spasms her orgasm drew out of her. Lenny lapped at her cloaca hungrily, savoring that taste.

When her dick stopped twitching, and she could finally see past the stars in her vision, Howler finally asked him, “you need a hand there, princess?”

Lenny blushed deeply, suddenly bashful when he wasn’t being preoccupied with her body. He pulled down his own pants, just enough for his own erection to pop out. A good size, for a scrub, but that was hardly the most intriguing part of it. His oviduct - his pussy - had been fucked open into a permanent gape; something Howler was used to seeing done to a worker mud surgically. He coaxed his cunt open himself. Or, initially, Lola did, in her dedication towards being a slut.

Howler sluggishly repositioned herself before the kneeling scrub. It was easy to manhandle him, as petite as he was; guiding him into a position similar to what he had her in, spreading his narrow legs to get to what she so desperately wanted in her mouth.

Her lips closed around the base of his cloaca. She swirled her tongue around the hole he made for himself, and Howler felt Lenny thread his fingers into her feathers.

“S-such a good boy,” the scrub mumbled encouragingly, “that’s it, keep going like that.”

Howler whined around a full mouth. She was only recently coming to terms with the fact that she would do unspeakable things to be called a good boy.

“Yer so handsome.” Fingertips found their way to Howler’s scalp, and scratched her in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “I can’t believe he fumbled a guy like you.”

Howler snorted at that, and had to pull back to catch her breath. She made up for the absence of her mouth by teasing her fingertip around the entrance of his cunt. Lenny grabbed her wrist to keep her there, and sucked in a sharp breath. “Please.”

A shit eating grin spread across Howler’s flushed face. “Please what?”

Lenny put considerable effort into maintaining a straight face. “Please, sir.”

That felt fucking awesome.

Howler was never going to think hard about why it did.

She had no time, for one. No time, no… resources; no real language to put these feelings into words, save what little bit she picked up from Lenny and Lola. Lenny was as lost as she was, similarly but diametrically confused and exhilarated at the concept of being something - someone - else. Howler wasn’t about to make a ‘Lola’ of her own, though; and that was probably for the best. It seemed like a lot of… maintenance.

Right now, it just felt good. And feeling good used to be a myth.

With some angling of her hand, Howler could fit a little over half a finger into Lenny’s oviduct before hitting a dead end. The analog to her queenly anatomy was partially sealed for a worker, and it was frankly impressive Lenny managed to get his that loose on his own.

He moaned like a girl, like a whore, as she fucked him just a little more open. Testing the limits of his anatomy, pushing in deeper until he clenched and whimpered pathetically. The cock portion of his cloaca dripped a steady flow of translucent fluids. He was completely sterile, thank odd, but his orgasms weren’t dry like most workers. Considering his libido, it wasn’t surprising. It was a miracle he hadn’t droned out by now, but maybe there was something to be said about his preferences. If he liked women, maybe it would have been different.

Good thing Howler wasn’t a woman right now.

Lenny tightened around her finger, and she wiggled it with a little more fervor until he gasped; hips jerking as his stretched-out hole spasmed over, and over again. Impotent, watery cum dribbled out of his cock. Howler looked up to see him covering his deeply orange-flushed face with both hands.

“Ffffuck, mud.” He eventually breathed. His posture relaxed from the tension of his climax.

There had never been an encounter between them that didn’t leave them satisfied. Howler felt spoiled during that brief window of their freedom before she had to leave, where getting to see each other every day was a new and exciting experience. Being free was a new and exciting experience; being themselves even moreso.

Howler really did wonder if she could have played her cards right, sometimes. Cut her losses with Abe earlier, swooped in before Alf could, carried her girl off into the sunset. But… things played out the way they did for a good reason. That reason being the gang.

Lenny would have probably been miserable, trying to keep up with her life with the Rebel Defects. But he was sympathetic to their cause in a way he could only mention in hushed tones, almost more taboo than their affair in the town that Abe more or less built for them.

They held one another in the afterglow of it all, the Mudokon Moon hanging over them like a dim lantern. The old scrub felt tiny in Howler’s arms, and that in turn contributed to the euphoria of being seen as something other than a queen.

Fleeting as it would be, this moment was worth all the trouble to get to it.

Time passed. Howler nearly fell asleep. Lenny stirred against her, and yawned.

“Should probably be headin’ back.”

“Yeah,” Howler agreed, reluctantly. “I need to get goin’.”

“Y’sure? It’s late; you can crash on the couch and head out in the morning if ya want.”

Tempting as it was just to stay longer… “Nah, I told Drill I’d only be a few hours. If I pull an all-nighter he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

They untangled themselves from each other, straightening out their clothes and trying to make themselves look a little less like they just fucked in the woods. They kept their eyes averted, not out of shame so much as it was to keep themselves from changing their minds. Howler bent down to steal a final, melancholy kiss.

“Don’t be a stranger,” was all that Lenny mumbled, and that was that. He had disappeared into the brush before Howler knew it. Leaving her alone, wondering if feeling like it was all a dream was normal.

It was going to be a long fuckin’ walk of shame back to camp, and Howler had to try and get there before it was tomorrow.

#howlerposting #my fanfiction #oddworld oc #this is the no.1 homewrecker ship btw

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