FSE

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Third street on the corner of Bayview, I'm on the fifth floor staring out the window. Strobes of red and blue lights whirl with the wail of sirens. It's my backup and the ambulance I called in ten minutes ago. The body behind me was still warm, still writhing with hoarse gasping. His lung is punctured. My fingers were white under the fur, gripping the leather handle to my revolver. I don't remember what he said, just how it felt pulling the trigger and watching him collapse next to his dead wife. I looked around the room one last time, a rundown apartment that housed mold, roaches, and an ounce of cocaine taped under the sink. I'll tell my fellow law enforcements officers I 'found' it there, they won't suspect much.

A clatter of Beethoven's Fifth blared from the phone in my pocket, breaking me from blank stare out the window. I take it out and answer, "Yeah, it's Claude. No, I'm fine. I see you out the window." It was Derek, my old training partner before I made detective. Normally foxes aren't attracted to dogs, a poor cliché , but for a German Shepherd he had a tight ass and a great body. Never mind he was one of the 'good' cops left in my Houston precinct. If there was any positivity I imparted on Houston, the last thing was probably him.

"Are you sure?! Dispatch said shots were fired and--" I glanced back out the window and there was my knight in fresh chevrons, the car door flung open with phone pressed to his ear. "Just get the paramedics ready, I don't think he's going to make it." My revolver trained back toward the Labrador choking on his own life. My thumb pulled the hammer back, all I could think about was the one that got away.

I ended the call and stepped toward the deceased and her beloved junkie husband. "You should have just paid what you owed, it would have gone much easier for you." The Labrador stared at me with glassy eyes, betrayal the last thing on his mind as life spurted from his maw, drenching himself.

I crouched over him, my gun barrel parting the lapel where his wallet and old badge once was. "First your wife overdoses, then you try and shoot the messenger." Blue and red strobes flickered through the window, bathing the back wall. I pulled the Labrador's old service Glock from his waistband and placed it in his paw. I tucked away my revolver and watched his trembling paw try to lift toward me, take revenge in his last moments. A fox can be cruel as he is cunning, I liked to think I had more cunning but everyone in my inner circle saw me wicked.

"Need some help?" I reached down, closing his fingers to cup the pistol grip with a slow raise toward me. The Labrador writhed, adrenaline surging as blood filled his lungs. A sputtered snarl raged through clenched, red-stained teeth, muscles contracting in last acting will.

His gun discharged, grazing my arm and burrowing into peeling wallpaper. My arm tensed with a spasm. I inhaled an iron stench of blood, my blood. The wound stung, but it was superficial. I had got the better end of the deal.

The ex-Houston officer, decorated and a loyal family man died beneath me. I closed my eyes, sliding back to the bullet lodged in the wall. I could hear my rescue closing in, a clamor of boots ascending before the door flung open--my savior.

"Claude?!" Derek always looked great in uniform, even with a service pistol pointing down range at you. "Jesus, is that?" His voice trailed, looking at the scene unfolded. I smiled.

The busted tile beneath me crunched, beads of moldy water dripping from the soggy ceiling above. My wound felt like it was clotting, my fingers squeezed tight around it as Derek secured the gun and rushed over. "Claude, what the hell happened? Are you alright?"

I reached out, holding the shepherd. "I'm fine, just glad you're here." I squeezed tight, not caring the blood I was smearing on his uniform would be a bitch to get out. He was close now, and not getting away so easily. I kicked away the rubble and trash beneath me, legs going limp for good theater. There was something soothing about the sharp green in Derek's eyes, they drew me away from the mess around us.

A backdrop of two dead bodies wasn't my idea of romantic, but god if I could only feel the warmth of him on me again...panting and begging me to be inside. He was drunk then, I spiked his drink and he couldn't remember a thing other than the peculiar difficulty walking the next day.

The clatter of the paramedics' stretcher bumped along the staircase outside, my grip tightened against Derek's shoulder. I was proud of what I had done. "Didn't realize getting shot at could put you in such a good mood." He remarked, inspecting my wound with a sigh. "It's a miracle you got out this lucky." I'm not much of a believer, but anything that gets me closer to him was a miracle as any after that night in the bar.

"Yeah, look, you up for a coffee or something after?" My grip slid. I held onto the soft swell of bicep beneath Derek's uniform. "Claude, you're getting blood all ov--" he paused, recoiling once the paramedics came up from behind. "I don't drink much coffee, it stains your teeth." He pursed his lips and sighed, a sinking feeling settled in.

My jaw clenched, teeth bared as the paramedic squatted down with a first aid kit. "I'm fine!" I shoved the EMT onto his ass and stood up with the wall at my back. "At least let him clean the wound." I looked at the dead couple and then back at Derek, my nose flaring. There was something on him, a threat. It was unmistakably perfume, some new whore that got what she didn't deserve. If I could shoot the Labrador and his bitch wife one more time I would, make a point.

"Are you going to radio this in?" The other paramedic chimed, checking the wife for a pulse. "Yeah." Derek squeezed his shoulder radio. "Let them clean the wound," he insisted, a soft intone diffusing the tension. "Once this is all taken care of we can go to Arty's, okay?" I held my breath and stepped over the corpses, not for their stench, but the perfume mocking me.

"Right, see you there." The neighboring family was in the hallway, peering in, sobbing silently. I took one last look inside, eyes lingering on Derek's ass. I bit my lip, there was a perfectly good bed in the other room, no bodies there. But it would have to wait, my supervisor was calling in and I could use that coffee about now.

Arty was a Great Dane who owned a small diner near a rundown apartment complex where Derek and I had taken our first call, his first day on the job. For a dog his size, he had a gentle soul. I couldn't count the number of nights I spent bitching about my ex-wife and job gripes.

"Another night on the town, it looks like." The brown dane chuckled, reaching under the counter for a clean coffee mug. The paramedics had swabbed my wound with peroxide and wrapped it in gauze, it's all I'd let them do.

"Just waiting for Derek." I took a seat at the counter, loosening my tie as the hot Columbian brew steamed at the pour. "Still?" the dane teased, sighing at the blood-soaked gauze. "Yeah, still." I growled, bringing the mug to my lips. You could practically taste the beans, Arty always brewed his coffee fresh, didn't matter what time of the day or night. Tasted just as good as the shit those twink baristas made.

"Last time you two met here, you were drunk off your ass and trying to get the number of every girl here," the towering dog placed the pot back on the warmer, a soft scolding reminder in his eyes. "Didn't drum up one bit of jealousy from him and just put you in a pregnancy scare for the next week." That was the last time I messed with a woman. It was bad enough it happened drunk, the only reason I even did it was because she was flat chested and happened to be a shepherd. Probably called her by the wrong name, not that I can even remember what it was now.

"Yeah, well I spent the last hour getting chewed by Chief." The blue rimmed plate rattled as I sat my cup down.

"I've heard this one before," he hummed, a paw resting on his hip with fingers drumming the counter. I had a smart ass remark waiting until the jingle of the entrance swinging open stopped me, that damned perfume again. I whirled in my seat, fur bristling on the back of my neck until seeing the concern of Derek, his squad car parked out front.

"Sorry about the wait, crime scene investigators took their sweet time getting there." I could feel my lips purse for a moment, disappointed it wasn't the whore who had taken Derek so far from my reach.

"Kept the most handsome shepherd in Houston waiting, huh? Shame on them!" Arty chuckled, getting a cup ready for the uniformed policedog as he sat next to me.

My paw drifted across the wood counter, fingers outstretched toward Derek's wrist. Whenever I'm around him, I can't help but try. If I just got a good hold, things would be better, he wouldn't get a chance to return to the source of that putrid perfume. "Two creams and a sugar, right hon?" Arty smiled, he was as happy to see Derek as I was.

"Right." My fingers took hold of the napkin to my left, just inches from my target. "Sorry about everything tonight, Claude. What you went through I...." My ears pulled forward, a half cup of Columbian liquid energy filling my maw. I swallowed, glancing over to green eyed worry. "Whose the girl?" Arty and Derek paused, they were hiding something.

Derek scooted back in his stool, looking down and away. I didn't even need to bring up the obvious. "Thanks, Arty," he smiled to the dane who tried to appear busy. "What's it to ya?" he turned back to me, stirring the contents of his cup.

I loosened my tie, clearing my throat. "Well it's just you never told me what kind of girl you're into." Derek frowned, " All this is very private, Claude. You know I don't like mixing my home life with work."

I could feel the gap between us growing. My neck was tensing, a spasm running down the side I was shot. I had to do something to save face. The counter was plenty clear. Would Arty really care if I shoved my old partner down and took his mind off that woman? As far as foxes go, I was more than well equipped for the job. Even Arty, with all the housing his dane maw had, struggled to swallow down every inch I had to offer.

"Look, Claude," Derek sighed and motioned forward with his cup. "I'm happy with what I'm doing, with my job. I never asked you when you'd show up three shades of scented men, did I?" In for the kill on that one, he had me and it stung hard.

I leaned to the counter, facing Arty with my pride crumpled up and stuck in my throat. "No, I guess not." The six foot something close to seven dane refilled my cup, maybe he wanted me to stare into my own worn reflection. At one point, I could have sworn my whiskers were white. Now they just seemed to droop, dark from cheap cigarettes and not enough sleep.

"Not that I wasn't impressed, or anything," the uniformed canine smiled out of the corner of his eye, my tail tingled with intrigue but I knew better. Arty reached over the counter, his massive paws steadying my shoulders. "Now that's enough bickering, you two."

I felt the muscles around my neck start to loosen, the owner had a way with those paws, knead you right down to butter. Derek took my half-lidded eyes as signal to get back to work, placing a ten-dollar bill on the counter. "Make sure to clean that wound tonight, Claude. When I see you tomorrow you better be one gunshot less." The door jingled before I had any sense to reply, I knew where Arty was taking this, or at least I was going to get us there.

"We're alone now, hon." His voice was softer, like silk rubbing against your cheek. I glanced up from my drink, watching his biceps flex as that deep muscle massage worked me into my seat. Derek was gone for now, I figured it was a good as time as any to get a piece of ass.

"You getting at something?" I slid my cup to the side, hooking my paw around his oak of an arm. He didn't respond, chest rumbling as I saw his eyes trail down toward male hood, not that you had to look hard for it. No matter what I did the bulge was pronounced. Every call I went on got stares.

I looked around the diner, there were no patrons. Arty noticed it too and ceased the massage just long enough to walk over and lock the front door, flipping the sign to closed.

The diner owner's hips swayed with every step, round asscheeks pushing out against his pants. "So, Detective, you realize the diner is closed now, right?" he hummed, walking over to my stool, both paws pressed to my knees with noses touching. I leaned away, elbow resting against the counter.

"Mm, I suppose it is." His dull green eyes went wide with delight, enjoying the front row seat to the slow snake of thick vulpine bulge down my thigh. I had him, I knew it. The way he bit his lip, fingers gripping into my slacks with eyes fixed shouted size queen.

I yanked a tuft of fur behind his head and pushed toward the girthy heat between my legs. "Come on, Arty. You're not going to kick out one of your best customers, are you?" I let him s unfasten my belt, rubbing behind the ears to the slow unzip that followed. "Just collecting my tip before you go."

I crooked my head back, exhaling relief when my cock slugged out into air, drooping under heavy weight and excess inches. Arty's imposing size came in handy. No one could see in through the windows from the angle we were at.

A low whimper sang along the frothy shlick of him trying to grip the veiny expanse of my cock. I'd seen Arty lift bowling balls open palm before, his fingers were fumbling. They couldn't reach around, hot fuckslime oozed around his wrist like a new watch at each pump.

I was thinking less and less about Derek and more about how this poor dog was going to take it all in. "Last time we got to the back of the throat," I groaned, his jowls opening around the tip of my arousal. "Think you're gonna do better this time, babe?" I snickered, tugging his ear down as his broad tongue lapped against the underside of the biggest cock in the whole prescient.

Arty shivered with delight, dropping to his knees as the first thick belch of preseed coated the roof his maw, dripping down until his sucking started a web of fucklube inside. Gooey excess rolled over Arty's bottom lip, spattering onto my legs, the length of his tongue lapping the bloated underside with a gagging whimper.

"Just like that, baby..." It encouraged him on, grunting through the nose as my stiffening size bumped against the back of his throat, smearing it in a warm sheen of pre Arty's knuckles went white against my legs. A heady mixture of spit and pre coughed around my cock dipping into his throat. It was so tight, so warm and wet, a good sleeve to fuck as any.

I closed my eyes, listening the dane drown and push against the grip I had behind his head. His jowls weresalivating around the beginnings of the facefuck I was about to take. "Something wrong, Arty?" I let him pull away, letting him gasp for air while my juices drooled from his tongue. I twisted his ear back, beating the tip of my cock against the bridge of his nose.

"C-Claude, I.." A gooey belch of hot lube glossed his lips as I shoved my cock back in, right into the tight inches of that virgin throat. "Mm, come again?" My claws sank into his shoulders as I stood up, keeping him gagged at throat deep. I drew my hips back, savoring the underside of my cock being glazed by his tongue before I bucked forward.

Arty reached past me, gripping the counter as my cock bulged out his neck, his eyes wide with disbelief. My teeth pressed tight, my balls were beating against his chest with an overburdened thump-thump-thump. My legs were taut, stomach tight as I fucked my third shift slut to the hilt. It was going to be a quick finish.

"Nnf, fuck Arty, I'm close!" The slut beneath me thrusted into the air, fat globs of pre soaking through his pants and apron. His glassy emerald eyes begged to be rewarded with a good finish. I couldn't say no to that face.

My paws slid around to the back of his head, cock tensing as a snarl rolled up my throat. I could feel the cumvein at the bottom of my cock swelling with release. "Nnf!" Sweat flung off my fur as I buried my cock into the deep inches of his throat, balls pulling up against his chest as a gooey deluge of cum started to flood his throat, backing up into his maw at an alarming rate. "That's fucking it~" I threw my head back, waves of relief taking me to cloud nine as the dane between my legs pushed off. My cum covered cock swung low as Arty swallowed what he could, coughing the excess all over his floor.

I collapsed back onto the seat behind me, reaching into my pocket for a pack of cigarettes. There wasn't smoking allowed inside, but then again it wasn't exactly customary to leave your cock out for the world to see.

"W-Wow, Claude that..." I cut Arty off, fingers snapping "You got a light? And you've still got a mess to clean up so get to it." The tall, imposing dane shuffled over on paws and knees, nursing my still aching mess. I suppose he didn't have a lighter after all.

I let the unlit tabacco stick hang from my lip, reaching over to Derek's untouched cup of coffee. Cream and sugar, was it two or three of each? Arty would know. Through the tightly closed blinds of the diner I could see eighteen wheelers pulling into the truck stop across the street. Lighters there would be overpriced, but Christ I needed a cigarette.

"Arty!" I set the cup down, grabbing one of his tall, perked ears and yanked back, a fresh sheen of drool had replaced our recent finish.

"Hon?" He seemed surprised as I was when I stood up, tucking away what hadn't calmed down. "That perfume Derek was wearing, when I mentioned it you seemed tense, why?" Arty lowered his ears, standing up and towering over me. "Claude, please...Derek said leave it." A gentle giant all the way. I reach out, resting my paw on his that were rubbing each other, his eyes flittering back and away from me. I softened my expression, easier to win over bees with honey than vinegar.

"Look, it's just something I need to see for myself. It's the only way I can move on," I said. The shy dane looked down to me, hope twinkling in his eye. "You mean?" I nodded, tilting my muzzle up, lips pressing against his while I swept the back of my paw against his face.

"Us, yes us, Arty." The diner owner stepped back, his disbelief touched against where I brushed. I relented forward, keeping up my façade. "Hell, internal investigations is going to be up my ass for the next week at least after what happened tonight. I'll be off cases and have plenty of time to think things through and--" Arty chimed in, "I have a spare key!" Just where I wanted it to go, a fox has his ways.

"I don't know, Arty. I just need to settle things with Derek, you know? Is he really happy with what he's doing?" I tucked my paws into pockets, sitting back down with a sigh, ears pulling back with the most somber look I could manage.

Familiar large paws rested on my shoulders, rolling into the muscle, making me glance up. "I really shouldn't be saying this," his lips pursed into a frown, disarmed almost immediately once he saw the sincerity in my glossy emerald eyes. It was a composure I picked up from interrogating enough murderers, they always seemed to stay still as a summer lake, see it enough times and you pick up a few things.

"Downtown, in the red-light district near Forester Avenue. A new club is opening and Derek is meeting someone there, that's all he told me." There were new clubs opening every month downtown, last year brothel house prostitution had been legalized in Texas, damn beautiful animals we Texans are. "Did you catch a name, or a time? Was that why Derek was in such a rush?" Arty nodded, reaching into his apron and pulled out a pad of paper and pen. My ears perked in anticipation as he scribbled something down. I'd have that bitch he was dating figured in no time, call in a few favors and make sure Houston or at least Derek is the least desirable thing she'd want to be around.

"He told me he visits there every day this week around this time. I'd guess he's running late by now." The paper ripped from the pad as Arty extended it forward, his tail wagging with dreams of what was to come. "You still got that waterbed in the guest bedroom?" I folded the paper and put it away. As much as I wanted to shove past him and speed with sirens wailing Arty was a good source of information with all the traffic that came through his place. That, and he was a hopeless romantic with a penchant for foxes.

"No, some things you got to let go of, right?" One of his paws came back to my shoulder, squeezing. "Not in high school anymore, right?" he chuckled. I caught onto the subtle nudge he wanted me so badly to go through with. "Yeah, long time." We shared one more kiss, my best manners on, forcing a laugh. We hugged and he sent me on my way. I waved with a farewell smile as I stepped into my ride and slammed the door shut.

The fur on the back of my neck bristled, my knuckles were white against the steering wheel. I felt a rush of hunt come over me. That damned whore wouldn't see me coming. Houston PD has more than one way to make someone disappear for a long time. Then I'd come back into Derek's staggered situation, salve his worry on how his taste in that new lover couldn't see past the fact she was a drug dealer or arsonist. I'd figure all that out later.

I slid the key into the ignition of my car and let it roar to life. As I backed out of my parking space I gave Arty a customary honk and fetched the folded paper from my pocket.

Downtown, red light district, only a thirty minute drive away...