odditycollector

"Like this?" Scotty says, as he presses his fingers into the grooves below Keenser's chest. And it's not *right*, not really - Scotty's fingertips are too soft, and his body can't produce the pheromones Keenser needs - but there's still some satisfaction. Keenser runs a claw gently around the ridge on Scotty's own generative organ, and Scotty gasps, fingernails digging deeper into Keenser's flesh: almost, always almost, enough.