This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
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In the Hangar
The aeromorph F4J-32-MC soared, jetting down to the runway with more than one worry on her mind as the day drew to a close. The sunset splashed a myriad of colours in shades of red and orange across her grey wings as she made her way down, decreasing her speed and lowering her running gear to touch down as gently as anyone could have liked. Although she was not a typical sort of plane, she did well enough in the force and some would have even said that she was even more so at the top of her game for having the flexibility too that being of an anthro and ever so slightly humanoid shape and persuasion had for her.
There was no windswept look to be had though as Juno inspected herself, wheels folding away neatly into the midsection of her body: she would not need them back at base with the hangar looming before her. In the late hour of the day, it cast a long shadow across the runway but not long enough to hide her friend and, well, something of a lover too, Luke from her gaze.
The F-22 Raptor surveyed her with a grim sort of tight-lipped smile on his wider face as she walked up to him, the movement blessed to her inner parts after having spent so long flying. It was almost good to be on the ground again, as strange as it was for an aeromorph to say!
"I thought you were never coming back."
To anyone else, that statement may have been a shade too serious to be taken as a joke but she giggled all the same and shuffled back, wings arcing down against her back, although she had no reason, as yet, to tuck them away. It was hardly as if he needed a reason, however, staring at her with that darkly intense look of his. Like all aeromorphs, he was 'naked' or at least as naked as one who was born of a machine could be, the tapered nose of his face like that of an aeroplane, but he was thicker and bulkier than her as if he boasted humanoid muscles too. Of course, that bulk just held his inner workings, what made the aeromorph what he was, and any sense of strength or mass in his body was simply due to just how his body was put together.
But that too, of course, meant that he was able to show off what he had on offer, something that Luke was well-known for taking advantage of from time to time. As he shifted his weight back, her eyes wavered, struggling to focus on his face and not just what his body was designed to show off.
"Good flight?" He said, an aeromorph of few words. "You're late back."
He said it like a reprimand but Juno could not take it as such, smiling and shaking her head as she brushed it off the best she could. Poor Luke... Always misunderstood. He just needed an understanding hand and a little smile at the right time, even if he didn't quite 'get' that she needed a good meal and feeding up herself after such a long day of flying. It was harder on her body than it was on his.
"Yes, I am later than expected, but I had to make sure all was ready for tomorrow," she said, struggling to let go of the formality of ranking and her position. "It's going to be another long one and it would be longer still if the supplies were not already in place. That's the good thing about cargo planes: they can take more along with them than us."
"True," he said, patting his side, round as if there was a bulge of muscle beneath that should have been showing through there. "These hatches aren't what they used to be, nothing in the hold here."
She giggled but there was something more lying beneath that, an unspoken need that the two of them, undoubtedly, knew would have to come to the surface sooner or later. They may have been aeromorphs but they still had the base needs and instincts of any other creature and all it really took was a suggestive glance from the usually serious male for Juno's eyes to start off wandering in all sorts of wanton directions, lower and lower to the obvious sort of 'bulge' growing right where a creature's shaft should be.