FIC: Culture Shock [7]
Back to Chapter Six
If this… pub was a place for this society's members to meet up, then what was the meeting hall for? Why did they need two buildings? Marton wanted to ask Karl or Eric this important question but his tongue felt numb he did not want to sound inarticulate, so he keep his peace and took another sip of the frothy beer Karl had just placed before him, his second one.
When they'd first come in here, Eric calling characteristically friendly greetings across the room, it had been a little hard to bear. All the noise, the loud chatter, bright lights and the presence in the main room of so many moving, colorfully clothed individuals, had been almost overwhelming. In this he had not been alone; Sean had been likewise struck dumb and they'd both scurried to the relative safety of the bench seats against the wall as soon as Karl had indicated that was where they would sit. People wished to talk with them, to greet them and show their friendliness and willingness to help. This was a good thing, but alarming when one was not used to being crowded.
Now however, a few hours later, it was not so bad at all. He'd grown accustomed to the sounds and lights, the occasional yells across the room from one individual to another no longer made him jump, and the beer no longer tasted as strange as it had at first. In fact it was quite nice; even the foam.
"Thish is good." he told Karl, abruptly deciding to speak. He clapped the other man on the shoulder for good measure, aping one of Eric's more familiar gestures in the hope that it was acceptable in this setting. "I like beer."
Karl sputtered, wiped the foam from his upper lip from where Marton's friendly punch had pushed his face into his glass, and grinned. "Glad to hear it." he said, punching Marton lightly back. The bright, uncensored smile the gesture earned him was heart-warming, even if it was beer-driven. "Having fun?"
Marton nodded enthusiastically, spilling a little of his beer onto his hand. He immediately cleaned it up by putting the glass down and bringing his damp fingers to his mouth to lick them dry. "Very mush so." he told Karl. "Your people ish very nice," He frowned. "Though I don't always unnerstand what they say."
Karl frowned too and then dismissed it. Some of his and Eric's friends were making the same assumptions Peter had and had made a few ribald comments on the subject. He'd have to have a word with them about it later. "Doesn't matter." he told the still frowning Marton. "We're all friends here, right?"
The frown vanished. "Right!" Marton agreed enthusiastically. He took another slug of his beer and then leaned in close, close enough that Karl was treated to soft puffs of moist, malted breaths on his skin. "If we're friends," Marton breathed. "then I can ask youse what Maxim… Maximills… that man meant, right? Right?" He cocked his head to one side, an errant curl dropping across his forehead, hazel eyes bright and lively, questioning. "Whatsa 'buddyfuck'?" he wanted to know.
Having his own issues to contend with, Eric was not following the conversation between his cousin and Marton. He did reach over when a paroxysm of coughing seized Karl, pounding him between the shoulder blades. Sliding the glass out from beneath Karl’s nose, Eric tsked lightly.
“Ya alright cuz? Snorting the foam ain’t the way to enjoy a round of beer, yeah?”
Sean giggled when his canted body nearly tumbled across Eric’s lap. He had discovered his behemoth was a useful pillar to lean on since his ability to remain sitting upright had a direct correlation to the warmth spreading out from his stomach. Using Eric’s solid thigh to lever himself horizontal, Sean beamed around their table, and the others near by. This touching was growing on him, making the warmth in his gut tumble pleasantly. He ‘tossed back’ a swallow of his beer, licking the foam carefully and thoroughly from his tingling lips.
Eric's pounding was not helping matters. Karl tried to think what to do. It was pretty obvious that Marton (and at some point, Sean) needed to be brought into the loop, but now, with both men practically in their cups, was not the time. Or was it?
Karl narrowed his eyes, taking in the relaxed posture, the alcohol-induced softening of both Marton's manners and features and decided that now was indeed the perfect time. If he had to talk birds and bees, then a slight alcoholic haze was no doubt best.
He leaned over into Eric's ear. "Sit tight, dude." he urged. "I'm taking Marton outside for a little fresh air. Then he stood up, wrapped an arm around Marton's shoulders to urge him to his feet and steered him toward the door. "C'mon, mate." he said. "We'll talk about this outside, eh?"
Eric grimaced, but nodded bravely as Karl and Marton slid from the booth. Sitting tight would not be a problem. His jeans were so tight across his erection he feared breaking it in half if he moved. Who’d a thought a little cider and couple beers would turn a man who shied from any form of touching this morning into a cuddle monster? Eric drained his glass signaling for another as he willed his hardness to abate. Sean was a visitor from a completely different society. At the least, Sean was straight and had no idea what he was doing in his inebriated state. Sean would not respect him-Eric wouldn’t respect himself-in the morning if he took advantage.
When Sean finished running the tip of his pink tongue around his lips, he turned soft yet brilliant green eyes up to Eric and rumbled in a way that skittered right down Eric’s spine, sending more blood south.
“I am beginning to discover the myriad tactile stimuli on your world have a purpose to provide pleasure, yes?”
Karl got Marton out through the doors and across to the seats under the tree without too much trouble. Sure, he staggered a bit when the cooler air hit him, but he'd only had one beer and a bit, so he couldn't possibly be as drunk as he looked. Unused to it, yeah, but not totally wasted.
He sat them both down on one of the benches, a steadying hand on the other man's shoulder and tried to think of the best way to put this. It wasn't bloody easy, figuring out what their guests knew or didn't know; assumptions could get him into trouble. So he decided to start at the beginning. Well, almost.
"So, Marton?" he began in a friendly fashion. "Tell me something. Do your people like, have sex?"
Marton turned his head a little too fast and swayed. Karl tightened his grip a tad. "Sex?" he blinked.
"Yeah. You know. Like, err, sexual intercourse?"
Another bleary blink. "No."
"Right."
Karl pursed his lips and tried another tack. "So, you do the procreation thing Sean mentioned?"
"Right." Marton parroted, nodding a little too enthusiastically. The night air on this planet certainly was having a strange effect on his vision. His balance was a little out of whack, too.
"Okay," Karl said slowly. "But what about for fun?"
"Fun?" Marton repeated dumbly. "Errr…"
Oh good grief. Karl was suddenly glad it was dark because his face was fucking flaming! How'd he get into this conversation again? "Let's back-track a little here." he offered, turning his upper body so he was facing Marton. "Let's say… you wake up in the morning with a hard-on. I mean an erection. What do you do?"
"It goes away." Marton imparted this pearl of wisdom with the perfect sincerity and innocence of expression that only the inebriated can achieve.
"But if it doesn't?" Karl persisted. Embarrassing it might be, but he was going to have this conversation only once and now he'd started he was gonna bulldog it.
"Oh!" Marton's face brightened as understanding dawned. "Well," he began, straightening up, happy to be educating his newest good friend. "One takes ones… yours, penis in your hand and uses yours hand to stroke it gently, inker… increasing the rapidit… rapid… how fast you stroke until climax is achieved." he pronounced. "This is good for general overall physical health, you know. Maintains the balance of body chemistry."
Just shoot me now! Karl sighed internally and gave thanks to whatever God might be listening that there was no one else around to witness this disaster of a chat. But persist he must. "And that feels, err, nice, right?" He didn't wait for an answer. "So therefore, it's fun. Now… if that's fun, then doing, umm, that, with someone else is also fun, okay? And well, I wanted to ask, do you do that? Like, have a certain someone you… err, do that with on a regular-type basis or not?"
Marton thought about it. It wasn't easy to concentrate for some reason; things kept distracting him, clamoring for his attention. Like the way the branches of the tree above were swaying gently in the breeze and Karl's hair was kind of keeping in time with it too, brushing across his cheeks. Hypnotizing, it was, and very… attractive. "No." he said finally. "We raise children together in a parental unit because that is the only way to get optimum results. But no fun." he finished, pouting a little because the thought suddenly made him feel sad.
"Alright." Karl moved a bit closer to capture and keep Marton's attention. "Now, listen to me. We do, umm, hook up with one another for reasons that have nothing to do with children. For love, companionship, friendship, err, lust…" He was rushing a bit, he could tell by the look in Marton's eyes, so he forced himself to slow down. "And it's like… not always man/woman, if you know what I mean."
No, of course he didn't. That was the damned point of being out here! Bugger!
"Umm… some males prefer to be, that is, umm, sexually… sexual with other males. They don't want to be doing that with females. And same goes for women. And sometimes they're a couple and sometimes it's just casual. You know, for fun. And when it's that"-Dear Gods, get me out of this!-"then some people call it a 'buddy-fuck'."
Karl breathed a heavy sigh, his shoulder slumping in relief. Surely at least some of that got through!
Marton blinked and then fell silent as he tried to absorb what he'd just learned. Karl was watching him, waiting for a response, but Marton couldn’t seem to get his brain to obey him and his thoughts kept skittering off-topic. "You have pretty eyes." he told Karl, surprising himself.
Karl's 'pretty' eyes widened. He's drunk, Urban! Drunk! "Umm… thank you." he managed. "So do you."
"I do?"
"Yes, yes you do." Damned right you do. "So? You're okay with the idea of two men being together?" he asked, steering the conversation back on track.
"Oh yes, of course." Marton nodded. Then he smiled, no, beamed at Karl magnanimous in his understanding. "You and Eric have nothing to worry about. We understand."
Karl boggled. He choked, had to cough to clear his throat and dab at his eyes with his shirtsleeve. Then he sighed, looked at Marton's innocently puzzled face and started all over again.
*
“Truly,” Sean sighed, leaning onto the bench’s high back and Eric’s broad, warm shoulder, “this touching and tactile stimulation is pleasurable.” His fingers moved from running over the wood of the bench, back to his fingertips gliding along with the edge of and fingernails just under the seam of Eric’s jeans. His own trousers were constructed differently and feeling the seam did not provide the same stimulus that Eric’s did. The warm thigh quivered against the back of his fingers, and Sean moved his hand. This time he went on to tracing lines in the condensation of his beer glass, contrasting Eric’s warmth to this wet, cold sensation.
Sean smiled brightly at the next person to stop at their back table. Surprisingly Eric did not jump from his seat to engulf the patron in a hug as he’d done with everyone else. Instead, Eric made an inarticulate noise, close to a groan of pain, before the newcomer leant down to seize Eric’s hand firmly.
“No wonder you’ve not been ‘round. Got yourself a new one, eh?” The man fell against the table, shoving it into Eric’s midsection, as he leaned in to press pursed lips to Eric’s.
“Bryan!” Eric spluttered when released. He tried to move out from under Sean’s head and the table, but was pinned while Sean gazed beatifically to all and sundry. “He’s just a friend, new in town,” Eric replied cautiously, wondering how Bryan had been let off his leash long enough to get so drunk.
“If you didn’t spend all your time bonk… er, bone… with Chris… you’d know we’ve had some excitement lately.”
“Mmm, little scrawny for your taste, Eric,” Bryan leered, turning bleary eyes to study Sean. “Hello green eyes, why don’tcha ditch this over-grown puppy and give a real man a ride?”
Seeing Bryan’s partner across the room turn their way, Eric shoved the table making Bryan stagger backwards to nearly upset a neighboring table. He used the diversion to grab Sean’s hand and drag him up and toward the front, and the entrance that looked so far away.
Though much smaller than Bryan, his partner, Chris, obviously wore the pants in the relationship. Karl often referred to Chris being a possessive little terrier, with a temper of a man three times his size.
By the grace of some altruistic deity, Chris had eyes only for Bryan and the couple who were attempting to steady the drunken and still randy man. Eric winced as Chris’s voice rose over the hubbub, accusing his lover of infidelities known and imagined, as he and Sean barreled out the door. Where Sean promptly dug in his heals until Eric stopped to stare at him, wild-eyed from their flight.
“Wha… wha… Oh! m’ head…” was all Sean managed to stutter as his internal warmth swelled to an incredible heat. Eric wavered before him as a spinning sensation suffused his body, his stomach turned inside out, the contents erupting to splash at his and Eric’s feet.
On to Chapter Eight