Page 15 of Farborn

Guy?

I honestly don’t know if Pfahrn have genders. I guess I should have read that fricking brochure a little more carefully. Meanwhile, I’ll default to “they,” unless corrected. That tactic’s always worked for me in the past.

Their skin isn’t a solid green. It’s a little darker in places, and while they’re wearing a uniform tunic top and what looks like a kilt, their skin appears vaguely scaly around their shoulders. They don’t exactly have hair, but what would be called hair on a human is a reddish color.

Their eyes, though. Fuck me, a gorgeous, dark golden color. Very expressive and right now, hardening my cock as they stare down at me.

I meandown. I’m six-two, and this Pfahrn is well over a foot taller than I am. Maybe even two feet taller than me.

They’re…tall.

Shiiiit. I’ve never thought I’d ever have a thing for a partner bigger than me, but…I’ve gotta admit, there’s something about this Pfahrn’s vibe that’s kind of got me hot and more than a little stiff and sticky inside my briefs.

“How’s it hanging?” I ask as I finally release their hand.

Their forehead scrunches a little. I don’t know if the idiom threw them, or if they don’t understand Standard.

Or maybe both.

“How is what hanging?” they finally ask, with just a hint of the tell-tale delay of an implanted translator. Probably not the newest or fanciest of bionanotech augmentations, if it didn’t translate the Standard idiom, but that they have a translator at all speaks to either their income, their employment status, or perhaps both.

Umm…

But worse, for me, is the fact that the low, deep rumble of their voice is making my cockthrob.

I clear my throat. “Sorry. How are you doing?”

“I am well, thank you.”

Aannnd…that’s it.

I don’t sense them being standoffish, more like this is their…default, maybe?

Like I said, I’ve had plenty of experience with non-humans, but never before with a Pfahrn. I don’t want to do or say anything to offend them, but…

Daaaaaamnnn…

When I deeply inhale, something about their scent—I don’t get the impression it’s a cologne, more their natural aroma—isreallydriving mecrazyin a good way.

They might not like it if I start licking them.

But if I lick them they’re mine, right? Isn’t that the rule?

Ireeeealllywant to lick them. I even stop myself when I start to lean toward them.

Except, I suppose I should ascertain if they have a partner first, huh?

I mean, thatwouldbe the polite thing to do, I guess.

Right?

Normally, I donothave these kinds of issues.

“I’m new to this space station,” I finally say. “This is the first time I’ve left the ship since our arrival. I’ve never been here, or to Pfahrn before.” I offer them a smile. “You’re the first Pfahrn I’ve ever met in person.”

They slowly nod. “Then I am honored. Although you are not the first human I’ve met. I have several humans who work for me on my crew.”

There’s no hint of what I’d call snark in their tone. Then again, that could be due to the translator and differences in languages. Who knows?