NR Ch. 02: Man Up Double Buzz

"Okay, you lost me."

Jackson groaned and gesticulated at the whiteboard set up in his and Acer's living room, which was currently covered in all manner of lines, numbers, X's and O's. Acer Maplestone sat on the couch and watched on, amused. Jackson was so cute when he got all worked up like this. He had to keep brushing his shaggy brown hair out of his face, and he got the most adorable pouty expression whenever Acer said he didn't understand a concept.

In truth, he understood what his hopeful floret-to-be was explaining well enough. Acer took up chess shortly after the initial Terran domestication campaign, and Jackson's explanation of football as "chess where all the pieces move at once" got the point across. But pretending not to comprehend his ward meant Jackson got to explain it more. Plus, more cute pouting!

"Okay, where did I lose you?" Jackson asked. He was almost vibrating, he was so excited to be talking about this. He had swapped out his previous outfit for a strange mesh shirt with insignias of an angry-looking wasp on both shoulders and the chest. He decided that pants were not a necessary part of explaining this strange sport, which Acer decided was definitely just to tease him. Seriously. What was an Affini meant to do when faced with a half-naked cute gushing about his special interest with his pussy on display? Not drug and enjoy him? It was unfair, woefully unfair.

But Acer contained himself, looking down at the "notes" he'd been taking on his pad. In truth, they were a few broad strokes about the game and pages of gushing about Jackson. "I believe around the point where you were discussing the minutiae of the 'line backers?' I fail to see the difference between these line backers and the defensive backs. That much specialization leads to unhealthy mental patterns for you cuties."

Jackson grumbled and buzzed his lips, turning around and clearing a section of his whiteboard. "Alright, so there's a few different kinds of linebackers. One word, linebacker. That pause in the middle makes it sound super weird. There's two base defensive structures, 3-4 and 4-3. The first number refers to the defensive line, the second to the linebackers. With me so far?"

Acer nodded, thinking about how much fun it would be to make Jackson explain this with a Class A injector sitting in his neck.

"We'll start with the 4-3, because that's what my favorite team uses. Or at least it was, I'm not sure what they're doing this season, you guys don't broadcast Crown League games. The middle linebacker is like the quarterback of the defense. He communicates with the sidelines and tells all of his teammates what the play call is. He's responsible for making any adjustments before the snap as well in response to what the offense does. With me so far?"

"Yes, that makes sense," Acer said with a smile. "How did you acquire so much knowledge about this game, cutie? You must've studied for years!"

"Oh this is nothing," Jackson said with a wave of his hand. "This is just basic theory. Wait until we get to the advanced stats and concepts! But stay focused, plant! We have a lot to get through. You said you wanted to understand everything."

Acer sighed happily as Jackson went on about the responsibilities of the middle linebacker and how important they were to the operation of a defense. He had some concerns about this game, but those could wait until after Jackson's adorable little lecture. His ward had a singular cuteness to him when he got excited about something. He spoke faster, his voice dropped lower, and he even got excited between his legs. It took every bit of self-control Acer Maplestone had in his vines not to pounce on Jackson every time he decided to have a "no-pants day." Honestly, he already behaved like a floret most of the time. Collaring him wouldn't change much of anything besides puncturing that precious little ego of his.

"I do have one question, actually," Acer interjected as Jackson rambled about how outside and inside linebackers served different functions. "Doesn't this all seem rather... barbaric, as you Terrans say? This is an awful lot of violence and risk of harm for a simple little game with a ball."

That was a fraction of Acer's true concerns about the shocking feralism on display in this game of football, but he figured it was only fair to not pour a bucket of ice water all over Jackson's fun little lecture. He deserved a chance to advocate for himself and his interests before Acer jumped down his throat.

"Well, you're not wrong," Jackson admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "There is a certain violence to football that's built into the game. The country it grew and thrived in was pretty brutal if history is any judge. But there's artistry in the violence, you know? The way these twenty-two people move in concert on any given play, it's like a dance. One partner leads, the other follows, eleven times across the field, over and over again."

"Hmm, I suppose so," Acer said, tapping a vine against his chin. "Is that artistry worth the cost? From your descriptions of certain plays, I see upward of fifty chances for serious injury at any given time."

"Acer, I know the Compact doesn't have much respect for human risk assessment," Jackson replied, looking up at the Affini. "And that's reasonable, considering the state of our society when you found us. But we're capable of taking calculated risks. Football is a game of calculating and recalculating risk at the end of the day."

"The Affini Compact has rather a different definition of what level of risk is 'acceptable,' cutie," Acer said, his red and gold leaves rustling. "Tell me, how often will a player tear their anterior collateral ligament? Lacking Affini medical tech, that is a severe injury that can never fully heal!"

"Not that much since they started with the genetic modifications!" Jackson protested, but Acer was not convinced.

"Petal, if a game requires genetic modifications to be played safely, then perhaps it ought to be consigned to the history books," Acer cautioned. "The health and welfare of sophonts is paramount in the Compact, and this sport seems to go against our principles deliberately!"

Jackson deflated, and Acer sighed. It was a tricky thing, balancing the basic Affini drive to protect and domesticate without crushing the cultural spirits of the species they watched over.

If Acer were smart, he would shut this down right now. That's what Fan would do. Fan Malvaceae, Twelfth Bloom always knew what to do in sticky situations with sophonts. So many Affini treated every problem the same way: if a sophont is expressing abnormal behavior, administer xenodrugs until behavior normalizes. And while that was all well and good, and pumping Jackson full of Classes A and C until he smiled again sounded lovely, it wouldn't feel right. The knot around his core wouldn't go away.

We may be the stewards of our empire, Mr. Maplestone, Fan's voice said from a distant memory. But we are not the only species with a perspective to offer on life among the cosmos. The sophonts in our care have much wisdom of their own, and we ought to take it seriously. No matter how cute they are, we owe it to them.

Besides, it's much more satisfying when they come rushing into our vines because they realize it is right and good. Their submission is all the sweeter when it is freely given.

"Hey," Acer said, slipping a vine under Jackson's chin and tilting his head back. The boy's breath caught in his throat, and Acer had to force himself not to pounce. "I don't want you to stop, pup. I only want you to consider our perspective on this game. As your guardian, it is my responsibility to challenge you on feralist value systems. But please do go on, I'd love to hear more about your favorite little game."

Jackson's face was red enough that Acer could probably cook dinner on it. By the stars, how did the little one just keep getting cuter?

"Um, th-thanks," he said, pulling away and giving his body a shake. "Um, uh, l-let's talk about quarterbacks! Yeah. They're the most important position on the team. Everybody is vital, everybody has their role to play, but teams orbit around the man under center."

"Wait, he's under the center?" Acer looked down at one of the diagrams he had drawn, now beyond mystified. "But if he's under the center, how is he supposed to take the clap and run the play?"

Jackson giggled, now it was Acer's turn to blush and grumble. "First of all, it's called a snap, not a clap, you goofy pile of leaves," he teased. "Second of all, 'under center' is just an expression. It refers to the quarterback standing right behind the center, holding out his hands to catch the snap and start the play."

Acer conjured an image of that in his mind's eye. "That seems rather sexual," he commented.

"Oh, one hundred percent," Jackson replied. "Football is the horniest sport humanity ever dreamed up. Hot, sweaty guys running around, crashing into each, dragging each other down to the ground? At least three times a game, you'll hear an announcer talk about how well one team is penetrating. Before you ask, no, not literally penetrating. They save that stuff for after the game."

"Well, I see why you took so well to it then," Acer said with a smirk, his silver eyes sparkling. Jackson stuck out his tongue, and Acer had to wrap a few vines around his injectors to keep himself from attacking. By the Everbloom, Jackson would look so cute with that tongue hanging out and panting like a good puppy. It was hard work not being one of the Affini who would just pounce on any sophont they decided would be better off as a floret. Every biological instinct in his body screamed at him to ignore his ethics and turn his ward into Jackson Maplestone, Third Floret.

But he wouldn't. Jackson had insisted that he would prefer to remain independent, and he had given Acer no cause to domesticate him forcefully. It was rare to find a Terran so well-adjusted as Jackson Meadows. When Acer found him, he was miserable with his work, certainly, but he had his affairs in order nonetheless. He ate three square meals a day, bathed regularly, interacted with friends and loved ones when his job gave him enough time.

And once he had the freedom to pursue his transition and never participate in capitalism again, Jackson thrived. He was one of the only independent friends of practically every floret in their sector, and he relished it. Ripping his independence from him would be satisfying in the moment, and once Jackson was a glassy-eyed pet he would surely thank his owner for it. But it would feel like killing a little part of the boy Acer had so fallen for. It wouldn't be right.

"But anyway, quarterbacks," Jackson said, and Acer shook himself out of his reverie with a rustle. "I know I mentioned what they are already, but they're the most important player on the team. The jersey I'm wearing is actually the Wasps' current quarterback! His name's Patrick Bradshaw, he's incredible."

Acer watched with a smirk as the color rose on Jackson's cheeks just from thinking about this player. "Aww, look at that," he teased. "Seems like a certain little puppy's got a crush!"

Jackson squirmed. "You'd understand if you saw him!" He protested. "And I'm not a puppy!"

"Funny, that's not what you were saying the other night," Acer said, vines snaking across the floor toward Jackson. "I seem to remember an awful lot of barking and whining coming from a certain little beagle held nice and tight in my vines. I'm happy to go fetch that precious little piece of neoprene if somebody needs a reminder."

"THAT WON'T BE NECESSARY!" Jackson exclaimed, though he didn't make any movement away from Acer's encroaching vines. "F-fine, maybe I like acting like a dog sometimes, but that doesn't make me your puppy!"

Acer's smile grew, flashing his thorny fangs. Seeds made the silliest mistakes. "Sweet boy, I never said anything about you being my puppy," he said, his vines curling around Jackson's legs. "I just said you were a puppy. But if you're going to insist on it, I won't protest!"

Jackson let out an adorable little whine, too intoxicated by the teasing to protest his independence. Besides, he trusted Acer enough to submit in scenes without that extrapolating to being an owned pet. But he held strong, looking up at Acer with pleading eyes.

"I w-wasn't done teaching you!" Jackson said with a pout. "Please, can I finish before you go to town on me? I'll even call you that thing you really like!"

Acer relented, but he didn't release his hold on Jackson's legs. "You drive a hard bargain, petal," Acer said with a smirk. "Very well, please continue. But I'm not letting go of your legs. You'll just have to keep up this adorable little lecture about your favorite feralist pastime while I play with you. Please do try not to consider how easy it would be for me to domesticate you on the spot."

Jackson whined and squirmed, but he put up a valiant effort to carry on. "S-so the quarterback is vital to a good team," he said, struggling to keep his composure. "Everything operates around them, and the whole team will go out of their way to protect them. If a team's starting quarterback gets seriously hurt, that's probably it for their season."

"So the quarterback is the floret?" Acer asked.

Jackson smirked. "Kinda, I guess," he said. "I'd say they're like the queen on the chessboard. Capable of a great deal, powerful, and important. But if you lose them, you're in deep shit."

"Language," Acer admonished, lightly whipping a vine across Jackson's pussy. The boy quaked and moaned, leaking all over the Affini's vines. Honestly. It was patently unfair that he didn't get to just claim the little cutie here and now.

"S-sorry Acer," Jackson said, but that wasn't good enough for Acer's taste.

"Ah ah ah, you said you'd use the title," Acer said, his vines coiling up over the brown-haired boy's hips. Jackson pouted, but he complied like a good pet-in-training.

"Sorry Master," he said with a hot blush on his cheeks. "This doesn't mean I'm your floret!"

"Of course not, sweet pup," Acer replied smoothly. "It's just for fun. Please do continue informing me about the nickelback."

"Quarterback!" Jackson exclaimed. "You're saying that one wrong on purpose just to annoy me!"

Acer let out a mock gasp, slipping a vine into Jackson's cunt. "Why, I would never!" He protested. "The very idea of such treachery is counter to my entire philosophy. I can't believe you would accuse me of something so terrible!"

He lifted Jackson into the air, forcing his hands behind his back and binding them there. Any protests the so-called "independent" boy might've had died in his throat as he bucked against the vines invading his pussy. By the Everbloom, this was where Jackson belonged.

"I'm terribly sorry petal, I just couldn't resist," Acer said, red sparks running through his silver eyes. "But worry not. I would like you to walk me through this sport of yours once more. No, I will not be releasing you in order to do so. Please try to enunciate clearly, as this subject matter is unfamiliar to me."

"Wh-where should I ungh, sweet stars, s-start?" Jackson asked feebly, adding a sheepish "Master" to the end when Acer cocked an eyebrow.

"The very basics, please," Acer said, taking Jackson back into his bedroom. "You were speaking so quickly and excitedly on our walk home that I'm afraid I missed out on some rather basic mechanics of football. I cannot recall precisely what 'third up' means."

Jackson groaned and squirmed in Acer's vines. "Y-you know it's third ah down, M-Master! This isn't fair!"

"If you wanted me to be fair, you would ask me to stop," Acer pointed out. Jackson scowled. The two of them had frequent conversations about the boundaries in their relationship. The brown-haired boy was happy to let Acer play with him as he liked, so long as he stopped when asked to. Understandably, given his years under Terran capitalism trapped in a body he never wanted, he had a complex relationship with the idea of coercion.

And yet, despite all of those protestations about maintaining his sexual independence, Acer couldn't remember a time Jackson ever asked his warden to stop once he got going.

"F-fine," Jackson grumbled, gasping as Acer wound a vine around his neck. "Every p-play in football is called a *gasp* down. You have four downs to make it ungh ten yards, then it r-resets. At the end of the oh sweet stars field is the end zone, and if you make it there, you Master please oh please get six points!"

"Mmm, I see," Acer said. He understood all of this when Jackson first explained it the first time, but seeing him this flustered was too delightful to pass up. "And what is this 'field goal' business? I can't quite recall."

Jackson pulled against his bonds as hard as he could, but he could do nothing to fight back against Acer. "If you c-can't make it Master please I'm so close to the end zone, you can ungh PLEASE k-kick a field goal instead! There's *whine* goalposts behind each end zone, a-a-and if you k-kick it through you get three points! Acer, fucking please, I ca-"

Acer squeezed the vine around Jackson's neck tighter, cutting off the trapped boy's pleas. "Petal, how many times must I warn you about your language?" He chided. He brandished an injector flower, and watched Jackson's expression transition from fear to anticipation in microseconds. "If you're going to call me Master like a floret and sit in my vines like a floret, you're going to speak like a floret."

He poked the injector into Jackson's thigh and relaxed the vine around his neck. "Try to curse, sweetheart," Acer invited. The bound man opened his mouth, forming his lips to make the beginnings of an "f," but instead his eyes crossed and his pussy clamped down on Acer's vines.

"This is a special Class W strain, sweet puppy," Acer said, pumping in a liberal dose. "It won't affect most of your speech, only the amygdala. It's responsible for cursing! If it detects an oncoming swear word, it will instead hit you with a nice bolt of stupefying pleasure. I'll include it when I give you your Class Gs every morning, since you clearly can't be trusted with uninhibited speech. Does my independent puppy have a problem with that?"

Still quivering from the blinding pleasure from his failed curse word, Jackson shook his head. Acer smiled. "Good! Such an eager, compliant ward," he praised, petting the top of Jackson's head. "Thank you for your extensive lesson on this... charming little game. Would you like some release before dinner?"

Jackson nodded frantically and Acer grinned. He held a small vine on either side of the bound man's clit and vibrated them at high speed. Jackson howled in bliss, arching his back and clamping down on the vine still buried in his cunt. It only took seconds before he came with a shuddering moan, then Acer lowered him down onto the couch and got him a glass of water.

"You're such a bully," Jackson grumbled.

"Funny, that doesn't sound like a safeword to me," Acer replied with a grin. Jackson rolled his eyes, but he had a matching grin across his face. He might not be able to call Jackson his floret, but the adorable Terran was still undeniably HIS.

After a minute of gulping down water, Jackson looked up at his warden with wide eyes. "Um, Acer?" He asked. The Affini, now done with the scene, didn't force him to use the title, ignoring the itch in his injectors. "Do you think you could find a way to get a Wasps game into our Hab? Now that I'm thinking about football again, I really miss it."

"Petal," Acer began, but Jackson kept going.

"Please?" Jackson continued. "I know it's feralist, I know it's violent, and I didn't even get into some of the... other stuff the Crown League. But it would really make me happy to watch a football game again. Isn't that the Affini's whole deal?"

"There's a line, Jackson," Acer said, but his will was already chipping away. And when the Terran widened his eyes and stuck out his bottom lip, his resolve broke altogether.

"Oh, very well," Acer said, and Jackson cheered. "One game, alright?"

"Definitely!" Jackson exclaimed. He jumped up and leapt into Acer's vines, hugging him tight. "Thank you so much, you big dumb plant! You're the best warden a boy could ask for."

As nice as that was, it still stung a bit. He never wanted to hear Jackson call him "warden" again.