FSE

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I crouch at the edge of the river, hidden behind the swaying cattails and bulrushes, my clawed fingers sinking into the cool, soft mud. Each breath burns through my tight throat as I watch my prey wade through the waist-deep water, oblivious of my presence, her back to me. She's beautiful - sleek, slim, with snow white fur and wide white wings. Swan's wings, if I'm not mistaken. Judging by the length of her neck, I don't think I am. Does have long, slender necks anyway, but hers is just that much more graceful as she scans both sides of the riverbank, her strange black eyes passing right over my hiding place. Her hair, damp and tangled, falls to just below her jaw line and brushes against her neck as she turns back to the river. I lick dry lips as I watch her scoop water in her small, delicate hands and splash it over her shoulder, the crystal drops rolling down her pristine feathers.

Cross-breed. I've never seen one so ... delicious looking, though. I wonder if she'll taste like venison or swan. I like both. I creep closer. My muscles are starting to get that restless ache - not tired, just ready to do something now, and I roll my shoulders. My left wing twitches and I curse silently as it brushes the cattails. My prey jerks her head around, sharp black eyes, bird eyes, seeming to stare right into me. She turns, and my heart does a funny step in my throat. She has no breasts, and I don't mean she's flat-chested. She takes a nervous step toward the bank, the water sliding down her narrow hips, and my eyes widen. She's a he. Small, compact balls nestle up between his legs, drawn up away from the cold water, and the tip of his cock gleams slick and red as it pokes out of his sheath.

A buck. I grind my teeth and feel the back of my neck burn. I assumed it was a doe because it had no antlers. Stupid. It's winter, regardless of this unseasonably warm weather. The bucks lost their headgear a month ago. He takes another step, his large white ears shifting back and forth, the bronze evening light making them glow like rubies. I hold my breath, waiting ... waiting, and finally he relaxes his thin shoulders, his gaze sweeping the entire bank before he turns back to the water. Now or never, I tell myself. I spread my wings, shadow falling like a curtain all around me, and I leap upward as I bring my wings down. A sound like thunder echoes across the river, and the buck ducks, his head whipping around as I take to the air, teeth bared.

White wings open, the tips dragging through the water, and he runs for the bank, but I close my wings and drop, arms outstretched. I slam into him from above, both of us splashing into the shallows. Shaking water out of my ears, I leap to my feet and rattle my pinions, ridding my wings of water. The buck flounders, trying to get his feet back under him, and I pounce, bearing him down to the muddy river bottom. Delicate hands grab at my arms and snowy wings curl up on either side of me, silken tips grazing my shoulders as I hold his head under the surface.

After a moment, I jerk him up, watching muddy water drip from his hair and run down his neck as he chokes and coughs. I should just drown him. It's faster than strangling him. It's less messy than biting his throat out. There's less chance to screw up. But it feels cheap. I'm a Wolf, with more than a little Eagle in my family tree. I don't kill cheap. Biting down on his throat, I grab him under one arm and wing and drag him out of the water, his legs kicking weakly. I drop him in the dry, faded grass and step back, spraying him with water as I shake myself dry. He gasps for breath and curls his hands into fists against the ground. I snort and place a heavy paw on his wrist.

"Drop it," I growl. I've had enough dirt flung in my eyes to recognize that trick when I see it. He opens his hands and tries to pull away from me. I grab him by the back of his neck and shove his face in the dirt, my mouth watering as he struggles in vain to escape. I lean down and he freezes as my hot breath slides across his jaw and under his throat. Up close, I can see the lines time has left around his eyes. He has to be at least twice my age. He smells very good though, like fear, like blood, and ... something else, something hot, wild, something that makes my pulse quicken, something very male and yet ... arousing. I brush his hair aside and sniff behind his ear. He cringes, flinching and shuddering as I work my way down his body, the scent growing stronger as I near his tail.

He cries out as I nose underneath his short, soft tail, and I feel my cock harden and slip from its sheath as I breathe deep of that strange, exotic scent. Although I've never had the slightest intrest in another male's tail before, I've never seen a male quite like this one, I've never been enveloped in a scent quite like this. Even a Wolf in heat has never burned in my blood like the scent of this buck. Hesitantly, I flick my tongue out, not quite sure what he will taste like. It's a thick, musky flavor, like wild game, rich, like salt and earth. I lick deeper, harder, and he kicks me, his solid hoof slamming into my shoulder hard enough to make me grunt and rock backward, without actually hurting.

He scrambles almost to his feet before I leap on him and bear him back down to the ground, my claws digging into his ribs as I hold him down. A high, thin bleat escapes his lips as blood wells to the surface of the scratches. Kneeling on either side of his thighs, I hold him down and slowly run my tongue along the wounds, the taste of his blood bringing all my senses into play. I can taste his fear in the very air, hear his frantic heartbeat, see the blood coursing through the veins under fur and skin, feel him trembling beneath me, smell that intoxicating scent I can only describe as ... him.

I slide down his legs and grab his tail in one hand, lifting it out of the way and licking my chops before I bury my nose in the cleft of his ass, his breathless bleating sending a shiver through me as I force my tongue deeper and deeper inside of him, savoring his dark flavor. I pull back with a startled gasp and glance down at myself, hard and aching, completely unsheathed and ready. My eyes slide from my cock to his ass, slick and opened by my tongue. I swallow hard and shake my head. I couldn't. He was food. Tasting your food was okay, fucking it was not.

I groan and run my fingers through the fur on my sheath, down to my swollen balls. I need to stop playing with him, I need to kill him, then I can take care of myself. But the thought of masturbating again, either by hand or by tongue, leaves me feeling empty and cold. Why should I have to, when there's a warm, tight body right here? So maybe I won't kill him and eat him. I'm eighteen, after all - food is not the only thing I think about. Although I have to admit, a slender, white, winged male Deer never even crossed my mind.

He must sense a change in me, because as I crawl up his body he claws at the ground, tearing up handfuls of dead grass, which swirl up into the air as his wings beat helplessly. I spread mine, nearly black feathers sliding over his white ones. His wings are larger than mine, but my muscles are stronger, and I pin his spread wings against the dirt, my chest pressing against his back, my breath falling fast and heavy upon the back of his long neck. I grab his arms and hold them still as I raise my ass in the air, feeling the tip of my cock drag through his silky fur as I feel for that narrow cleft. This would be easier if he would stop fighting me, but not as satisfying, I think.

I growl, low in my throat, as I feel myself slip between his cheeks. It's all I can do not to thrust forward, but I'm not in him yet. Humping his ass and blowing my wad all over his back is not what I had in mind. Slowly, I pump my hips, and he tenses as the tip of my cock finds his entrance. I breathe deep, letting his fear, his scent swirl through my mind like a crimson fog, and then I push forward, sinking into him, his muscles gripping me tighter than any female I've ever been with. He cries out, a hoarse, pained sound, and tries to squirm out from under me, but there's nowhere to go. I bite down on the back of his neck and he goes still.

"Please," he whispers, his voice thin with fear, "Lord Wolf, please stop. It hurts." I loosen my hold on his neck, though I know that's not the hurt he was talking about, and run my tongue up through his short, silky fur. He shudders. I let go of his arms and slide my hands down his sides, grabbing his narrow hips and holding him tight as I force myself deeper. He bleats once more, a desperate, hopeless sound, and then falls silent, lying quietly while I fuck him. I hold back as long as I can, keeping my knot outside his body, but I am only eighteen. Too soon, I throw my head back and howl, making him flinch as I bury myself deep inside him, my knot swelling as I jerk my hips frantically and fill him with my thick cum.

"Alara's Fangs," I gasp, my arms shaking as I try not to crush the smaller male beneath me, "I've never come that hard in my life."

"Glad to hear it," the buck mutters, trying to draw his wings closed. I let him. "Would you mind getting off of me now?" I lift my hips a fraction, smiling as he cries out in pain, my knot still too large to come out without a lot of tearing.

"I take it you've never had one of my kind inside you?"

"Can't say I've ever had the pleasure," he replies, and I flick my ears in amusement. The scent of fear still lingers around him, but I can smell anger now, as well.

"Well, now you have." I reach up and run my fingers through his hair and he jerks his head away, but his tangled locks catch on my claws and I hear him draw a sharp breath between his teeth. "Look," I say, gathering his hair into my fist and pulling his head up toward me, "until my knot goes away, we're stuck like this, so you might want to think about being a bit more polite. I could still kill you, you know."

"So why don't you?" he hisses at me, craning his long neck around to glare at me out of one glittery eye. I bare my fangs and snarl. He doesn't even flinch. After a moment, I drop the scary face and lick along the side of his mouth instead. He turns away and makes a disgusted sound.

"So, what are you doing this far from the city?" I ask after a minute or two of uncomfortable silence.

"What do you care?" he asks.

"Just killing time," I reply with a shrug. I shift my hips slightly and feel my softening cock slide inside him. It won't be long now. "What's your name?"

"What do you--" I grab him by the hair again. "Irra," he says between his teeth. I relax my grip a little.

"Irra what?"

"Irra Ganthran." I let go and he glares back at me, reaching up to push a stray lock of hair out of his black Swan's eyes. I grin, showing my teeth, and then pull out of him, my knot still large enough to make him wince as it pops out. I climb off of him and sit back, watching my cum roll down the crack of his ass and pool between his thighs as I slowly lick myself clean. I taste myself, and him, and blood. I glance back at him, but I must not have done too much damage - I don't see anything. My cock slips back inside its sheath and I stand up, brushing grass out of my fur.

"You ought to think about getting back to civilization before you get hurt," I tell him, my wings casting him into shadow as I spread them. "See you around, Irra." I leap into the sky, wings pumping as I fight for altitude. I hate taking off from the ground. I catch an updraft from over the sun-baked hills and soar up to cruising altitude before turning toward home. I lick my lips, the taste of Irra lingering on my tongue, and I wonder what Mom is making for dinner.