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Scheduled Heat – Oneshot

A story by HumanFan31

7.6k Words

Prompt Image - By foxfawl (I Do not own this in anyway)

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11:17 AM Introduction to Criminal Justice and Government 101

Introduction to Criminal Justice stinks—of course, not in a literal sense. But more of "I'd rather be anywhere but here, right now," meaning, but maybe that was just college life as a whole at the beginning of the first few months. Who would have thought studying historical crime and law would be so boring? But as much as Ellis wanted to drop it, he needed it for his diploma.

How's college going, Ellis? His parents would ask for the sixth time, every time they called about four times a month. "Oh, just great, just peachy," he'd respond, more or less the general response. In reality, though. That was a "nicer" way to say it in Ellis words.

Ellis blinked—slowly, almost like he was squinting his eyes, trying not to fall asleep. That was the final class that afternoon, the most uninteresting, boring, and, more importantly, uncomfortable class he had, which, in turn, made the class feel more agonizingly longer.

"The aforementioned tort," Professor Wood's says, his voice a flat monotone that could lull a hyperactive squirrel into a coma, "as distinguished from the previous tort we discussed on Tuesday, relies upon a showing of damages that are, in essence, non-pecuniary in nature, though there are of course exceptions to this general principle, which exceptions we will now explore in detail." As usual, since the beginning of the first semester, the brown owl taught from his desk, reading from his old-looking computer, probably still running Furdos 8, which projected onto the larger screen at the front centre of the lecture hall.

"Whatever, the fuck that's supposed to mean to me…" Ellis muttered quietly to himself, confused. Nonetheless, he wrote it down in his notebook, his fingers straining for the past hour. Lucky, the one who "sees all and knows all", didn't hear him.

The hall was silent, even for a class full of adults. Most, if not everyone, silently, painfully copied down whatever foreign language the professor was speaking.

The words that came out of his beak were English, yes—but to Ellis? Just gibberish disguised as literature. "Aforementioned tort," Ellis didn't even know what the fuck that even meant, and "we discussed on Tuesday," last Tuesday felt like a month ago, and he was pretty sure he fell asleep that whole class period.

And looking around the class, everyone thought the same as he did. Either sleeping or painfully trying not to, as they leaned against

those horrible combined chair-desk units with the tiny surface that can barely hold a laptop and a notebook at the same time, forcing them to choose between taking notes and existing.

In the third month of college, Ellis was still getting used to things. Mostly just his professor, Miller Wood, who taught Criminal Justice and U.S. government. An owl; a thick coat of brown feathers, never-blinking yellow eyes that seemed to stare right into your soul, with his fixed eyes, and the way the old brown owl seemed never to blink—stare—with those dark, dilated pupils that consumed the iris. With an unemotional expression, a glare that said "You will, and always will, amount to nothing," and a nonexistent neck that quickly snapped to any sound, to a murmur, to a cough, to even a slight sneeze would make you question if it was actually physically possible to hold in until class ended by the dead-eyed, apex predator look he gave you, like you were his prey.

At this point, Ellis was trying to get through the class without somehow pissing him off, as he read aloud one of the many, many slides of his lecture, currently on slide 43.

Elis knew this because the slide number on the large projector screen, centered at the front of the lecture hall, was the only thing to change regularly, and the small clock above the door that read '11:31'—another hour before the class would be dismissed.

The slides themselves are walls of text so dense they should come with a content warning for claustrophobia. The font is Times New Roman, size 25, because Professor Morrison — and every teacher on the planet, apparently — decided that Times New Roman was more "professional" after discovering it in 2003 and has not thought about typography since.

Bullet points spawn more bullet points, which spawn sub-bullet points, which spawn little dashes that indicate thoughts so minor they probably shouldn't have been thoughts at all. "Fucking bullet points after bullet points—when is it my turn to get my bullet?" Ellis complained, with a faint laugh under his breath. Of course, he was joking, but still, this was Hell.

The late forty-year-old was somewhat tech-savvy, but in the worst way possible.

Autocorrect would have been handy right now when you didn't know how to spell, at least 80 percent of the words that came out of your professor's mouth—And if you had Professor Wood's, that was guaranteed. Too much unimportant information, mixed in with what Ellis imagined were the few things that were important to remember. Or maybe everything Wood said was significant?

Not like he'd have a clue.

Just then, Ellis' phone buzzes.

At first, he ignored it. "Whoever it is, they could wait"—like they'd heard his thoughts —Ellis' phone buzzed again, vibrating in the pocket of his jeans, almost louder. Ellis shifted in his seat, angling his body away from the phone's vibration, as if that would somehow make it stop. Around him, other students scribbled diligently, unaware of the tiny war being waged in Ellis's pocket. But Professor Wood's?

He noticed.

Still, all the way, even towards the last few rows, the professor heard it, earless and all. Black pupils scan the room, directly toward the lone human. Ellis looks down at his notebook, pretending to write something important. Like he was actually taking notes before, drawing a slightly larger maze around the first maze he drew, not even five minutes ago.

Fuck.

Just then, as fate would have it, a cheetah two rows ahead sneezes. Someone whispers, "Bless you." Professor Wood's long brows twitch, golden eyes snapping down to both of them. He only glares once or twice before reading again—warning—silencing.

"In the landmark case of Figgins v. Figgins, the court held—" Professor Wood begins again, adjusts his glasses, squints back at the screen as if seeing it for the first time "—and I quote, 'the plaintiff must demonstrate that the harm suffered was reasonably foreseeable at the time of the alleged negligence.' End quote."

Nonsense. Or at least that's what it sounded like. Looks like he wasn't missing anything important.

Quickly, Ellis flipped open his dead laptop, originally dying on the 40th slide, the screen still black—dead. placing his smaller-sized phone in front of the bigger screen. Just in time, the screen of his phone glowed, one name popping up in a notification.

Alex (That Annoying Spotted Hyena) sent a message.

Silently, he just glared at the screen. Ellis should have known it was the damn spotted heyna—his only annoying, hot, firmly straight roommate. Like usual, as Ellis was rushing out the door at 7 this morning, Alex was still tucked in bed, either recovering from his latest fuck, or drunk off his ass from the latest campus party. It should have been a couple of hours before he woke up.

At that moment, Ellis should've shoved the phone back into his pocket, ignoring it. Maybe Alex would finally take a hint.

But Ellis didn't. Instead, he opened the text. Letting out an exhausting puff of air.

___

Alex: Hey

Alex: You in class?

___

What do you think? Ellis wanted to send, glaring at the screen. No, I'm at the club, he wanted to send sarcastically as he rolled his eyes. Ellis squeezed his eyes shut. He knew Ellis had class. They'd had this conversation seventeen times. Tuesday and Thursday, 11-12-45 PM Introduction to Criminal Justice. It was literally on the whiteboard in their fridge.

___

Alex: I need you to come back

Alex: like now

Ellis: In class. What do you want?

Alex: Can't say. just need you here

___

Ellis stared at the message. Can't say. Of course, he couldn't say. It was always either too complicated to explain via text or, more likely, something so monumentally stupid that typing it out would make Alex sound even more incompetent than he already was. His thumb was hovering over the silent mode button, which he should have pressed as soon as he got his text.

___

Ellis: I'm in a lecture. Tell me what it is.

Alex: It's important

Alex: Like, really important

Alex: Just come back, please!!

___

Probably something stupid, again, Ellis imagined.

Professor Wood wrote something on the board. Ellis paused to copy it mechanically, muscle memory taking over while his brain simmered even though he didn't exactly know what it meant.

He blinked again, ever so slowly. Tired.

The drunk night surfaced unbidden—last night. Ellis had been asleep when his phone started screaming at 1:47 AM. No surprise, Alex's voice on the other end, slurred and giggling: "Ellis. Elliiiiiis. I'm at that house. You know—the one with the porch. I don't know where I am, actually. Can you come get me?" Should have gone back to bed instantly. Instead, Ellis spent forty-five minutes driving to some off-campus house he'd never seen, sketchy as fuck, so sketchy that Ellis was surprised that Alex still had all his organs, or at least he thought he did; he didn't know much about anthro biology. Finding Alex off a porch swing where he'd been singing something unintelligible to a potted plant. Reeking of weed, mixed in with a few bottles of beer.

It was a miracle Alex was able to walk back to his car, better yet, fit in his small Civic. At one point, Ellis almost crashed when Alex had thrown an arm around his shoulders in the car, pressed his cold nose to Ellis's neck, teeth scraping against his skin, and whispered "knew you'd come" before passing out completely. Somehow still bold after the night he went through.

Should have pushed him right there, should have. Didn't mean he did.

Instead, Ellis had had to half-carry him up to their room, 200 pounds and all, peel off his shoes, and listen to him snore for the rest of the night on the coach while lying awake, furious and confused and something else he refused to name—With a boner he refused to tend to.

The phone buzzed again.

——

Alex: Ellis?

Alex: Hello?

Alex: Are you ignoring me???

_____

Again, Ellis tried to focus on the board. On the sloping lines of the graphs. Anything but the repetitive silent vibration coming from his desk.

Buzz.

____

Alex: I can see you read the messages

Of course. Read receipts. The universe's way of ensuring he could never have peace.

Alex: Please?

Alex: I wouldn't ask if it wasn't serious

___

Wasn't it serious?

When was it ever?

Ellis bit the inside of his cheek. Alex asked constantly for everything. The shower drain clogged with enough of his fur to construct a small mammal, Alex standing there in nothing but a towel, water dripping down his chest, looking at the drain like it had personally offended him. "I don't know how to fix it," he'd said, those stupidly long lashes wet from the shower. Of course, Ellis went out of his way, grabbed a pair of tweezers, and fished out clumps of fur as Alex watched.

The keys. Always the damn keys. Lost at least twice a week, usually found in Alex's back pocket or under the couch cushion he'd "definitely checked there three times, bro." Ellis had stopped counting how many times he'd pointed to the exact spot where he found them.

The cooking. Or rather, the complete inability to make his own food. Alex would stare into the fridge as if it were an ancient text he couldn't decipher, then appear in Ellis's doorway with those wide grey eyes. "There's nothing to eat." Ellis went shopping a day ago. "But I don't know how to make that." So Ellis would make it, Alex would sit on the counter, watch, and complain about his day, and then later he'd say, "That was really good, Ellis," like it was a surprise every single time.

The bugs. God, the bugs. Always the smallest, least threatening jumping spiders, and Alex would be standing on his bed, almost 300 pounds, in his prime age of twenty, pointing at them like they were some alien-like monsters from the deepest pits of Hell. "Get it, get it, Ellis, please!" Refusing to sleep until it was "dealt with." Ellis would capture it in a cup and release it outside. The giant hyena, giant muscles, firm pecks, and all, visibly sighed in relief. And then, later, when Ellis was trying to study, Alex would appear with two sodas and say, "Hey, babe, thanks for earlier." Like that made up for anything.

Not to forget the way he casually would call him "babe," like they had been together for years.

At nineteen, Ellis was more of a housewife than a college student.

The phone buzzed again.

___

Alex: Ellis, please

Alex: I really need you here

Alex: It's kinda bad

___

Ellis stared at the screen. Around him, the lecture continued. People were taking notes, learning things, and moving forward with their lives. Why wasn't he doing the same? Or at least trying to.

He thought about Alex's face in that accidental selfie from last week's wifi incident. The sleep crust. The pout. The way he'd said "thanks, babe," like it meant nothing, because it did mean nothing, because Alex was firmly, obnoxiously, undeniably straight, and Ellis was just the roommate who fixed things and cooked dinner and drove forty-five minutes at 2 AM to pick him up from parties.

Another buzz.

___

Alex: Ellis

Alex: Please just come

Alex: I can't do this alone

___

Damn..

Ellis closed his eyes. Counted to five, opened them. Professor Wood was still talking. Something probably still about "torts". None of it was sticking.

He thought about setting boundaries. About letting Alex face the consequences of his own learned helplessness. About what it would feel like to... not respond. To sit here, in this cold, boring lecture hall, and finish his class like a normal person.

Then he thought about Alex, alone in their apartment, whatever "kinda bad" emergency was unfolding, waiting for Ellis to show up because Ellis always showed up, because somewhere along the line Ellis had become the person who showed up. Alex had become the person who expected it.

The phone buzzed one last time.

___

Alex: Pretty Please? With a cherry on top?

___

Ellis's thumb moved before his brain could stop it.

___

Ellis: Fine. Don't move.

Alex: Okay, okay, thank you, thank you

Alex: Hurry, though

Alex: Please

___

"—the duty of care extends only to those plaintiffs who are within the foreseeable zone of danger—their conduct might not harm those whom the defendant could not have reason to anticipate. But the swaying opinion of Supreme Court Justice Fellen Andrews argued that, yes, the duty extends to all plaintiffs. Even those who did not suffer harm directly—"

Ellis stood up, and as soon as he did, Professor Wood stopped mid-sentence, hearing the sudden sound of movement from behind. The entire lecture hall turns, mostly the very few that were actually paying any attention.

"Yes?" Wood's voice, when directed at him, is the same as his lecture voice. Flat. Even. Plain, but just slightly low-pitched, probably due to his species. Nonetheless, completely devoid of curiosity. He looks at Ellis with mild surprise, as if one of his many desks in the room suddenly grew a conscience. Of course, right now, though, Ellis didn't care about what he thought—Ellis knew he just needed to get out of this room.

"Can I..." Ellis starts. His voice cracks. Actually cracks. Like a thirteen-year-old going through puberty. He didn't have an excuse ready beforehand and had to come up with one quickly. Elis clears his throat.

"Sorry," Ellis said, already gathering his things. "An emergency. I have to go," he said firmly, or at least tried to.

Professor Wood blinks.

"R-roommate emergency?" Ellis weakly explains.

The owl looks at the human for a long moment. His face gives nothing away. Looking from top to bottom, eyes staring seemingly longer. Like Ellis was in elementary school, and needed to raise the little wooden pass. He wasn't five anymore, he was a fully fledged adult now! Being nineteen had to mean something.

"That's fine," the owl says finally.

"Don't miss the section on contributory negligence. We'll be covering it after we finish with foreseeability," the owl said with a rare hoot, his tone changing, almost amused, before swiftly backing up as his head twisted back to the board.

Back to Slide 44.

He's already talking again before Ellis puts his backpack on, trying to rush down the stairs without making any more noise. Of course, his shoes, which never squeaked before, are starting to do so now, a high-pitched, rubbery screech that seems to go on forever over the carpet below.

___

Ellis: On my way, dude

Ellis: Try not to destroy anything else, if you have already..."

___

The key turned in the lock with its usual stubborn click, and Ellis pushed the door open.

The smell hit him first.

Not the emergency he'd been bracing for—no smoke, no gas leak, nothing burning. Just the distinctive, oppressive odor of a room that had been sealed too long with too much humanity inside. Stale sweat. Old pizza. Something vaguely sweet, possibly spilled soda or the beginnings of mold—the usual.

Ellis stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind him.

The room was a disaster. The usual disaster. Clothes everywhere—jeans by the foot of the bed, socks in singles and pairs, t-shirts forming a trail from the door to the bedroom hallway. The bed was unmade, sheets twisted, pillows flat. The desk held an army of empty energy drink cans and crumpled fast food wrappers. The trash can overflowed. The blinds were broken.

Normal. Familiar. Frustrating in its predictability.

Ellis took off his shoes by the door, stepping over a stray sneaker that definitely wasn't his, twice his size, no doubt Alex's.

"Alex," he called, his voice flat with resignation. "I'm here. What was so important that I had to leave class?"

Silence.

Then—a sound. From down the hall.

Not a voice. Something lower. Throatier.

A groan. Or maybe a moan.

Ellis frowned. "Alex?"

Another sound. This one is unmistakable. A low, keening whine that cut off into something breathy and desperate.

Ellis's stomach tightened. Not with fear, exactly. With something else. Something he didn't want to name. Don't tell me he's... Ellis didn't want to finish the thought; instead, he kept moving.

He moved down the hall slowly, past the shared bathroom, past the linen closet, toward the bedrooms. His bedroom was the first door closed, quiet. Alex's was next.

The door was cracked open.

Just an inch. Maybe two. Enough for a sliver of light to escape, enough for Ellis to hear what was coming from inside.

It was closed this morning. Ellis was sure of that when he tried asking Alex if he was going to class today. There was no response. Ellis just thought he was still blacked out from the other night.

But now, there was breathing coming from the room. Heavy, ragged breathing. A wet, rhythmic sound. And then another moan—longer this time, higher, desperate, almost girly.

Ellis' face twisted. There was no way Alex called him back here to see his latest conquest.

"Dude, I swear to god—"

Ellis's hand found the door.

Pushed.

The room was dim, blinds drawn, but enough afternoon light filtered through to see everything.

Alex was on top of the bed. Sheets unmade, on all fours.

Naked.

Completely, utterly naked.

Ellis's brain short-circuited. For a long, suspended moment, he couldn't process what he was seeing. The broad shoulders he'd watched stretch in too many too-small t-shirts. The muscled back, smooth and tapering to a waist he'd never let himself look at for too long. The curve of—

The tail.

A spotted hyena tail, dark-tipped, bushy, wagging slowly back and forth like a metronome marking time.

And beneath it—

Ellis's breath stopped.

Beneath the tail, Alex's body opened into something Ellis had no framework for. Yes, it was ass. But nothing he'd ever laid his eyes on before, between those cheeks. Pink, swollen, glistening, almost pulsing with each desperate breath Alex took. It wasn't just visible. It was present. Engorged. A thick, curved length of flesh that Ellis couldn't look away from, couldn't process, couldn't—

It was calling to him.

Alex's ears twitched. Cute little twin ears, Ellis always secretly wanted to feel up, to pet, as those Spotted ears, dark-tipped, swiveling toward the doorway.

Alex's head turned. Slowly.

His eyes met Ellis's.

And Ellis saw it—the lust. Not the usual lazy heat of Alex checking someone out, not the teasing glint he got when he called Ellis "babe" to watch him fluster. This was deeper. Darker. Primal. Alex's pupils were blown wide, nearly swallowing the gold of his irises. His mouth was slightly open, tongue visible between parted lips, a thin line of drool trailing from the corner.

"I'm in a rut," Alex said. Like that was a perfect explanation, like Ellis knew what that meant, as his human brain could even fathom what that meant. His voice was different. Lower. Rougher. Thick with something that made Ellis's knees feel unreliable.

The tail kept wagging. Slow. Deliberate. Inviting.

Ellis stood in the doorway, frozen, his bag slipping from his shoulder to thud softly on the floor.

The spotted hyena watched him. Waited.

"You came back," Alex breathed, and something was wondering in it. Something that cut through the haze of lust for just a moment. "You always come back." He grinned now. That familiar teasing grin of sharp teeth, that said, "I know you'd come, you always do, babe." Ellis hated it when he did that, more so because it made him fall deeper for the hyena.

Then again, almost louder, his whole body twitched. Glistened.

Alex's ears flattened slightly, a gesture Ellis had never seen before but understood instinctively: vulnerability. Want. Need.

"Ellis," Alex said, and his voice broke on the name. "Please."

The room smelled different now. Beneath the stale pizza and old sweat, something new. Something warm and musky and overwhelming. Alex's scent, but amplified. Chemical. Irresistible. Biological.

Ellis's body was responding before his brain caught up. Heart pounding. Breathe shallow. His hands were trembling at his sides. Cock hardening in his jeans. Instincts take control before the mind.

But his feet wouldn't move.

And Alex was still watching him, still waiting and still hoping.

The tail wagged once more. Slow. Deliberate.

Ellis swallowed.

"Alex," he heard himself say, and his voice didn't sound like his own. "What—"

"I need you." The words tumbled out of Alex like a confession. "I've always needed you. Not just for—" He gestured vaguely, taking in the messy room, the chaos of their lives together. "For this. For you. I didn't know how to say it. I didn't know if you—" He broke off, a small sound escaping him, half pain, half want. "But now I can't hide it. I can't hide anything."

His ass seemed to pulse again, and Alex's whole body shuddered as he tried not to whine. "I-I like you... I know after everything you do for me, I don't deserve it, but..."

Ellis stared at the impossible sight before him—the roommate who drove him crazy. The spotted hyena, spoiled back at home, needed Ellis for everything. The teasing. The man he'd been half in love with for months, convinced it was hopeless because Alex was firmly, obnoxiously, undeniably straight.

Except. He wasn't

Except Alex was on all fours. Naked. Waiting. Wanting.

Him.

"Ellis," Alex whispered. "Please. I can't—I can't do this alone."

The words hit Ellis like a physical blow. How many times had Alex said that? How many times had Ellis answered?

He always came back.

Alex's tail wagged again. Once. Twice.

Ellis stepped forward.

Ellis's jeans grew tighter. The room's temperature suddenly rose, most likely due to the pungent musk that permeated the air. Alex let out a pant at the reaction, lowering his eyes to the growing bulge. "Come on, dude, don't keep me waiting." He stuck out his tongue, letting out a whine. "Fu-fuck, don't make me beg for it." He said, biting his bottom lip. "You've been waiting long enough, teased you long enough..."

It wasn't long before Ellis' clothes disappeared, dropped into the abyss of dirty laundry about the bedroom. The bed groaned. Not the gentle protest of old springs accepting familiar weight—this was something deeper. Something primal. The frame complained as Ellis planted one knee on the mattress, then the other, the cheap metal joints screeching in metallic protest. The college bed was never meant to fit more than two bodies.

The mattress dipped under him, tilting toward the center where Alex waited. Years of wear had softened its support, molded it to Alex's sleeping shape, and now it welcomed Ellis into that same depression, that same warmth.

The sheets—god, the sheets were Alex's, unwashed too long, carrying that scent Ellis had spent months pretending not to notice—were rumpled and twisted beneath them.

"Dude..." Ellis complained, despite breathing in deeply. "When was the last time you washed your sheets?"

Alex didn't move. Stayed on all fours, head turned, watching Ellis approach with those blown-out eyes. But his body shifted—a subtle adjustment, lowering his chest closer to the mattress, tilting his hips just slightly. Presenting. Offering. "Don't act like you don't like it, babe," he grinned again, his usual cockness, boldness, still present despite his horniness. "Been grinding against these sheets since the semester—mostly how I jack off. Marking territory~."

The tail never stopped moving. That slow, hypnotic wag, brushing against Ellis's thigh as he settled onto the bed, the soft fur electric against his skin even through his jeans.

Ellis's hands found Alex's hips before he'd consciously decided to touch. The skin was hot—too hot, feverish, burning under Ellis's palms like Alex was running a temperature only Ellis could break. Alex's breath caught at the contact, a sharp inhale that became a whine, high and desperate.

"C-can I kiss you?" Ellis found himself stuttering, flustered. "I've always wanted to and..."

The bed lurched slightly as Ellis shifted his weight, one knee sliding between Alex's spread legs. The springs screamed again—a long, plaintive cry that seemed to hang in the air. The headboard knocked against the wall once, twice, a warning of what was coming.

Ellis could feel everything. The heat radiating from Alex's skin. The fine tremor running through his muscles. The way the spotted hyena's tail brushed against his stomach with every wag, leaving trails of sensation that made it hard to think. The impossible reality of what Alex was—what he'd always been—pressed against Ellis's thighs, waiting.

"Ellis," Alex breathed. Just his name. Just that.

The bed bowed beneath them, both their weights settling into its center, creating a gravity well that pulled them together. Ellis's hands tightened on Alex's hips. His thumbs pressed into the soft skin just above the swell of—

He couldn't think about that. Not yet.

Ellis leaned over him, one hand braced on the mattress beside Alex's shoulder, the other still cupping the impossible weight between his thighs. So big, so impossible large. Their faces were close now. Inches apart. Ellis could feel Alex's breath on his lips—hot and quick and laced with those little whines that hadn't stopped.

Ellis gave it to him.

The kiss deepened. Ellis's hand left Alex's hip to cup his jaw, angling his head for better access, and Alex made a sound into his maw—something broken and grateful and hungry all at once, maybe the small part of him that thought he was straight, still fighting a losing battle. Yet still, his tongue was hot and insistent, twining with Ellis's, tasting of salt and need and something that was just Alex.

That small tail had started moving again. Ellis felt it brush against his thigh, then wrap around his calf, pulling him closer. The hyena's hole against him, leaving a smear of wet heat over Ellis's chest, indistinctly marking the human, whether he wanted it or not. Alex's testicles were heavy as Ellis slowly felt them up with his other hand, full and waiting.

But Ellis couldn't think about any of that right now. Not when Alex was kissing him like this. Like Ellis was air, and Alex had been drowning. Like Ellis was the answer to a question Alex had been asking for months without knowing how to voice it.

Ellis broke the kiss just long enough to breathe, to press their foreheads together, to look into those wild, wanting eyes.

"You have no idea," Ellis whispered, "how long I've wanted to do that."

Alex's laugh was broken, desperate, beautiful. "Then do it again."

So Ellis did.

This time it was slower. Deliberate. Ellis kissed him like he had all the time in the world, like Alex's rut wasn't burning between them, like the bed wasn't creaking beneath their combined weight, more or less Alex's. The kiss was soft yet deep, the two learning with each passing second: Ellis how to properly kiss an anthro, and Alex's first time kissing a guy. The way Alex's breath caught when Ellis bit gently at his lower lip, the little sound he made when their tongues met.

Alex melted into it. His body relaxed against the mattress, the desperate tension bleeding out of his shoulders. His hand loosened in Ellis's shirt, sliding up to wrap around the back of his neck, holding him close. The tail loosened too, still wrapped around Ellis's calf, but no longer pulling—just holding and just touching.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Alex looked up at him with those impossible eyes.

"I thought—" Alex started, then stopped. Swallowed. "I thought you'd be weirded out. By all of this. By me."

Ellis kissed the corner of his mouth. Then his jaw. Then, there was the spot just below his ear that made Alex shiver. "I've been dealing with your bullshit for eight months," Ellis murmured against his skin. "You think a little hyena anatomy is going to scare me off now? Have you noticed I have a huge crush on you?"

Alex laughed—a real laugh, surprised out of him—and Ellis felt it everywhere. "I guess I've kind of been teasing you for months, huh?"

Then Alex kissed him again. Harder this time. Hungrier.

The bed groaned. The tail tightened. And Ellis let himself be pulled under. If this were a spell, Ellis fell to it a long time ago. It felt like years had passed when they finally pulled away for air.

"I want to taste you," Ellis said, pulling back. "Really taste you..."

The bed groaned again. Louder this time. Ellis moved back behind Alex. The hyena's only response was another desperate whine, another wag of that ridiculous, beautiful tail.

"Go ahead," Alex growled huskily, "You've probably been dreaming of it longer than kissing me, huh, gay boy—A-Ah!"

Before Alex could finish, the human shifted lower again behind him, his mouth trailing down the heated plane of Alex's back, covering it in healthy soothing kisses. "Would you shut up for once, dude?" Ellis groaned as he continued, "Less talking, more moaning."

Alex shuddered beneath him, a low whine building in his chest, his fingers curling into the twisted sheets. "F-Ah! F—fuck you!" Alex tried to muster anger through his moaning. Ellis trailing, tasting salt and that familiar musk; wild, feral, strong, warm.

Ellis pulled back, taking a breath, admiring his work. "I think I've found the source of your little runt here, bro," Ellis said cockly, rare. "Right about—here!"

"U-ugh!"

One of Ellis's hands found its way between Alex's thighs. The testicles were waiting there, heavy, full, impossibly warm. His fingers closed around them, feeling their weight settle into his palm, and Alex made a sound that was almost a sob.

"Ellis—"

Then once again, Ellis moved, going for the killer blow. Tongue centered around that pink, juicy, and tight hole, which only seemed to emit more of that natural drool—

Kind of like a pussy, if Ellis ever saw one, natural lube. Ellis wondered how it would taste, and with a flick of his tongue, he dove in.

"E—Eliss! F—fuck your ton—"

"Shh," Ellis commanded, tongue circled his hole again, pressing just slightly, and Alex's words dissolved into a moan.

"B-babe, p—pleese!" At that point, Alex didn't know what he wanted anymore, but he definitely didn't want the human behind him to stop. "F-FU-ck! That's the spot!"

Ellis worked in rhythm. His tongue traced slow circles, dipping inside just enough to make Alex gasp, while his hand stroked those heavy balls with equal deliberation. Lips pushed it aside gently, and Alex made a small, embarrassed sound, cut off sharply when Ellis's mouth found its destination. The taste was overwhelming. Musk and heat and something deeply, unmistakably Alex—the hyena definitely needed a shower. The first touch was tentative. A question. Ellis pressed his lips to the furl of Alex's hole, feeling the heat of it, the way it clenched at nothing.

Still, Ellis's tongue traced the tight curl, feeling it flutter against him, feeling the way Alex trembled on the edge of control. He licked slowly, deliberately, learning the shape of him, the way each pass of his tongue drew a different sound from Alex's throat. Ellis was in heaven, making a guy twice his size moan. Alex's whole body went rigid, a broken gasp escaping him. "B-babe, wait for—UGhh!"

There was no going back to humans after this. It was anthro ass from here on out—for life. Almost apologetic, Alex's tail brushed against Ellis's cheek as he descended, feasting on the hyena's lava oozing asshole and begging him to go deeper. And deeper Ellis went.

His soft fingers traced the seam of those fat hyena balls, carefully squeezing gently, feeling how full they were—but soon they would be empty, Ellis knew that by the way Alex's asshole tightened on his tongue. His hole itself was smooth, hot, stretched taut over the weight within, and every stroke drew another desperate sound from above.

Alex was babbling now. Broken words and pleas and Ellis's name, over and over, a prayer and a demand all at once. His hips moved in small, desperate circles, trying to push back onto Ellis's tongue, trying to thrust into his hand, caught between two kinds of need.

"E—Ellis!! G-GOD GO D—DEePer! Please!"

Deeper he went. His tongue pushed past the tight ring of muscle, tasting the heat inside, and Alex screamed—a raw, animal sound that had no shame in it, no restraint. His cock was so hard that it hurt, as he grinded himself against the mattress. His own groans and moans echo out, yet are muffled by the delicious ass he couldn't get enough of, his breathing ragged.

Then, suddenly, Ellis pulled away, gasping for air. For a long minute, the two sat there recovering their breath. "N-need to breathe for a second..." Ellis drooled,

"Fuck yes, Ellis—please fuck my ass…" Alex groaned, stuffing his pillow, his hands holding on to it for dear life. "If—if that was just your tongue… How on Earth will your dick feel inside of me?"

"Wanna find out?" Ellis suggested with a wide grin. His cock was already at the ready. For the third time that afternoon, Ellis spread Alex's cheeks, exposing his pink hole, and groaned at the sight. Slightly swollen, pulsing, still drooling with human saliva from the previous rimming, natural slick still oozing out like honey. "You have a cute hole," the human murmured, more to himself than to Alex. An observation. A wonder. "It's—really cute. Small. Pink. I didn't expect that. And that slick? Fuck. It tastes sweet in an odd way. Kind of like a pussy, I'd imagine?" Ellis laughed, not in cruelty, but softly at the realization.

Alex growled threateningly, or at least tried to. Ellis could feel the vibration, his hand still slowly stroking the hyena's thick balls, feeling up in front of it that was as thick as a beer can, and as long as a wine bottle. For a moment, Ellis was in pure awe, listening as the growl began deep within, before echoing out.

"Cute..." Ellis repeated, a smirk at his lips.

But Alex's body, along with outside context clues, told a different story.

His hips pushed back against Ellis's cock, seeking more contact. His hole pulsed again, leaking a fresh stripe of slick across Ellis's from behind. His tail unwound from Ellis's calf only to wrap around his thigh, pulling him closer, tighter. And when Ellis looked at his face—Alex had turned away, hiding, but Ellis could see the flush creeping up his spotted neck, could see the way his ears had flattened further, could hear the whine that undercut the growl. "D-don't call it that," Alex groaned, "It's not anything like a pussy!"

Even when the hyena tried to argue, his expression said otherwise: Embarrassment. Desire. Need. With the flick of his paw, he tossed Ellis a bottle of lube. "H-here, use this..."

"I'll take your word for it," Ellis grunted, sliding his cock between the hyena's thick cheeks. His cock moved back and forth, the head dragging over Alex's hole with each pass—testing. "Take a deep breath," Ellis spoke, "This may hurt a little…"

___

One Month Later

There was a rare quietness that settled over dorm room B42 that morning. Ellis stood in the living room, phone pressed to his ear, a cooling cup of coffee in his other hand, on Saturday morning. No classes. No alarms. Just the soft cadence of his Mother's voice asking too many questions too early.

"Yes, Mom," he said for the third time, smiling despite being woken up. "I'm eating vegetables. I had a salad yesterday."

"A salad is not enough, and you know it." Her voice crackled through the speaker, familiar and warm, always full of energy despite her age. Still caring, still worrying about her youngest son. "Eating one salad every full moon isn't gonna suddenly make you healthy. I hope you're getting exercise, dear," she added, pestering. "Your father says you look thinner than the last time we saw you from the pictures you sent for the family album. Are you sleeping enough? You have those dark circles again."

"Exercise?" Ellis repeated her first question, with a short chuckle. Unknowingly to his Mother, he glanced back at the open door of Alex's room — also his room on most days, still a little messy, bed unmade, unclean from last night's activities, still reeking of sex. "Don't worry, I'm getting plenty," he confirmed. "Tell Dad, that's just how a normal college student is supposed to look, without their parents' home cooking. But sleeping? Debatable..." he dragged the last word, came off a little more suggestive than he wanted to.

Silence fell on the other end. The well-oiled machine that was his Mother's brain was presumably already coming to a certain conclusion—Ellis coughed, suddenly awkward, reeling back. "Y-you know how it is? Homework, classes, just college stuff that keeps me up," Ellis tried to explain nervously. "Again, don't worry about it..." Ellis winced, unseen on the other end.

"Mmhmm." She didn't believe him. Ellis could tell immediately. Knowing she was rolling her eyes, probably a smile on her face as she tried not to laugh. Instead, she didn't push, changing topics. "And that roommate of yours? The one who can't cook, who can't do anything without you, in general? I hope you finally set some boundaries..."

"Y-yeah..." Ellis tried to explain, "We're doing better now..."

"Now he's more independent." After that afternoon of his rut, more or so the day after, Alex promised he'd be more self-reliant; doing the dishes, going to class on time, cleaning out the shower drain occasionally, and not staying up late anymore. Ellis even started teaching him how to cook—nearly burnt down the dorm, but he was trying, right? "He's—we're—things are better now. Between us."

"That's good," Ellis' mother said softly. But Ellis knew better that she was

already working through it—the pieces clicking together, the picture forming. "Your father and I," she said carefully, "we just want you to be happy."

'I-I know..." Ellis said, almost a whisper. "Don't worry, everything's fine, peachy," he tried to reassure. "W-we went to the movies yesterday," Ellis explained without meaning to do so, a smile on his face, "He paid—R-ich guys always want to flex, and all. But I'll pay next time!"

"...Alrighty, honey," his Mother chuckled, "You do that."

"Just make sure you two are using—"

The front door to the dorm suddenly burst open.

Ellis jumped, coffee sloshing over the rim of his mug. His phone was nearly falling out of his hands. Like usual, that didn't change in the last month, Alex strode in like he owned the place—which, technically, he half did. As much as the two wanted to stay in bed all morning and cuddle, he left for the gym about two hours ago, "Gonna keep these muscles nice and big for ya, babe," he said. Brushing off Ellis pleas to stay, but it was no secret he enjoyed seeing him all sweaty. Especially now.

His mohawk was wet. Casually, he pushed it back, flinging water droplets everywhere, freshly back from the gym showers. His face flushed, either from the shower or how clearly that it didn't do much to cool him down. And that distinctive hyena musk, but amplified by the gym, by the sweat, by the heat still radiating from his skin. It was wild and animalic, warm and pungent, with an almost ammoniac edge that should have been off-putting but wasn't. Whatever soap they had at the gym didn't do much; it barely made a dent. And the way his cock is already throbbing, leaking sweat or precum—probably both. In those tight black gym shorts, a size too small on purpose to show off.

Fuck, Ellis mind went blank at the sight. The human froze, mouth watering, his nose twitching, short-circuiting.

"Ellis." Alex's voice was rough, satisfied. He dropped his gym bag by the door and started walking. "You're up, babe."

Ellis blinked, then his bright blues went wide. Any other time, he would have loved it, but right now? When he's on the phone with his Mom? "W-wait! I'm on the phone with my—" Ellis held up a warning hand. "Alex! I swear to god—"

Alex reached him.

Before Ellis could react, Alex's hand closed around the back of his neck—firm, possessive, undeniable—and pushed.

Ellis's face was pressed into Alex's armpit. First, he couldn't breathe, then he inhaled.

The world dissolved.

The smell was overwhelming. Not just strong—absolute. It filled Ellis's nose, his mouth, his lungs, his entire consciousness. Alex's sweat, fresh and hot, soaked into the fabric of his tank top and radiated outward. The hyena musk was concentrated here, in this hollow of his body, potent and primal and utterly, devastatingly Alex. Instantly, his cock twitched, hardening in his boxers. Somehow still alive after last night.

Ellis's knees went weak.

It was wild—that was the first thing. Untamed and feral, like walking into a fraternity full of carnivores, but warmer, more intimate. There were notes Ellis couldn't name—animalic and deep, with something almost food-like underneath, rich and dark. And woven through everything, that warm, musky base that was pure Alex, the scent Ellis had spent months pretending not to notice and weeks since the rut inhaled like oxygen.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. Couldn't do anything except exist in that smell, surrounded by it, consumed by it. He would have come hands-free just from it if it weren't for his Mother still on the phone. His cock was painfully leaking in his underwear as he moaned happily into the pits.

"Hhm!"

Before Ellis could notice, as if he were in a position to do anything about it, Alex snatched the phone from his limp fingers. Alex's voice rumbled above him, vibrating through his skull. "Hi, Ellis's Mom. He'll call you back," Alex said casually, like it wouldn't spawn never-ending messages and calls. Then came a click, and the call abruptly ended. Then, slowly, he pulled Ellis back. Meeting his human's frustrated, angry, and lustful glare in those blue eyes.

Alex's grin was insufferable. "You like it."

"Fuck you..." Ellis said, trying to sound mad, but Alex could tell there was not an ounce of seriousness in his new boyfriend's tone.

"Oh, don't worry, I plan for you too! Could use another workout," Alex winked. And before Ellis could respond, he was lifted, carried back to Alex's—domian—his bedroom. "I was thinking, babe," Alex continued, like it was an every weekend occurrence, which it slowly began to be, "How about you give me a good post-workout rim, before we do some squats. And by 'we' I mean I'll be doing the squats, while I'm riding you," Alex clarified, smirking, showing off each of his sharp molars in that cheeky grin of his.

Ellis didn't fight him, letting himself be lifted by those strong spotted arms, feeling the warmth of his hyena's body under him. "Yeah, sure, whatever..." Ellis muttered, even though he was more than happy with the plan. "Just letting you know, my parents—my Mom, will want to meet you sooner or later..."

Alex laughed. The vibration ran through both of them. "I know, babe, and I'm too happy to meet them. Just tell me what kind of flowers your Mom likes beforehand," the hyena responded, meaning every word.