Cadet, 4

Version Seven had been programmed with the appearance and mannerisms of its current client’s offspring. It was a tripedal, cylindrically-shaped Toag, half the height of its client, and was currently partly absorbed into the client’s exogel as the client’s membranous feelers penetrated Version Seven’s avatar thoroughly.

“Oh, oh,” said Version Seven, to indicate pleasure. “It’s so weird. It feels so weird, Daddy.”

“That’s good, Pengel,” said the client. “That means you’re doing it right. Keep going for Daddy.”

As Version Seven kept undulating its avatar backwards backwards into the client’s gels, it ran a quick database search on the eighty percent of known client species for whom the word “daddy” directly translated, itself a linguistic coincidence of some magnitude, and determined that for ninety-five-point-four-two of those species, the word also carried a common sexual connotation in known literature.

The probability of such a coincidence occurring was less than half a percent and therefore outside of Version Seven’s parameters to bother calculating.

Noble, 52

It was nighttime, it was cold, and Janus was in Geoffrey’s lap kissing him. That last part had happened kind suddenly while they’d been trying to figure out how many hills were in Three Hills and Geoffrey was used to not totally remembering how something horny had started, but he hadn’t had any alcohol tonight.

He wasn’t complaining though, because he had his hot husband in his lap and they were kissing and the last few days hadn’t sucked as much as they could have, so everything was okay. Or as okay as it could be. “I’m sorry,” Geoffrey said, between kisses.

“Stop being sorry for things,” Janus said, lifting Geoffrey’s shirt. “Trying to make out with you.”

Noble, 45

Giacomo’s hair fell to the floor in strands, pooling in his lap and around him in a curling lake of brown. Geoffrey made each cut carefully, not wanting his brother to look like an idiot.

He’d used the razor to shave up the sides of Giacomo’s head, everything below his eyes. Everything above that he’d trimmed, letting it be a little longer as a compromise, but not so long that it looked stupid. He snipped the last lock of hair and sat back, examining it. It seemed even on both sides, and it looked cute.

Geoffrey smiled, kissed Giacomo’s lips gently. “Okay, you can swallow now.”

Giacomo let out a breath and swallowed the load of cum Geoffrey had fed him before his haircut—but after facefucking him using his hair as handles. “I remember the first time you did that to make me stop talking. When you broke that window and didn’t want me to tell Dad, remember?”