FSE

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Swirling larger didn't really look like anything. The answers he was after certainly weren't looking up at him from the bottom of the pint glass in his paw, and the music was frankly, too much treble and electronic nonsense and not enough bass for him to even be bothered dancing tonight.

The jet black panther's fur shimmered like ripples of hot air over asphalt in the summer, his long, sinuous tail flicking back and forth. He was tall, athletic, built like a professional rugby player. Once, he'd been the crack shot of the regiment. An artist with a long rifle! He'd been fierce, a killer able to hit a moving person at over a kilometre, as well as being a hell of a corpsman, the only thing that truly stopped him from going into sniper school. Hard lessons learned about putting people back together being harder than taking them apart.

He'd been the best of the best, hell, he still was... It was just harder to convince yourself of that when you spent your weekends unsuccessfully chasing tail at the local clubs and your weekdays suturing drunk teenagers who thought glass bottles made great improvised weapons. He knew how the body worked, what places to touch to cause pleasure, and what areas to target in order to cause the most trauma or hemorrhaging. In a way, his own knowledge scared him. It was a shame chicks didn't dig stories about pulling grenade shrapnel out of your buddies faces.

He should have just stayed home, maybe called one of the pieces of ass he had on speed dial for slow nights like this. Perhaps Shadi even, if Isiat didn't mind sharing her for an evening... Hell, it wasn't like he cared even if his old Colonel did mind. She was a tight little piece of tail, and mewled like a kitten when she rode his barbed prick, creaming herself hard like a good slut.

His teeth flashed dangerously as he gave a low, predatory growl, golden eyes casting across the dancefloor for something worth his time pursuing that wouldn't land him in jail for his efforts.

Victor sighed, and rolled his eyes as the excuse for a DJ from the USA put on the next track (As irritating as the one before it.) and drained his glass with a long gulp. Maybe he'd find something at the bottom of the next one. He rapped his black-furred knuckles against the bar counter, summoning the wiry little fennec who was working, and had him pour another, a stronger IPA this time. A crisp, if crumpled five quid note changed paws. So did the glass of beer.

The drinks were shit. The music was shit. Even the selection of prey in the club was shit. His night was going to shit. He raised the glass to his lips, and barely managed a sip that tasted like shit before the night got even more shit.

"Victor? Vic, is that you mate?"

Too late. He drained the glass before that could be interrupted and made more shit as well.

He groaned inwardly, recognizing the irritating voice at once. He turned and was greeted by the grinning face of a brown-furred hare with ears that were too large, and a foot that wouldn't stop thumping the floor in time with the shitty music. The panther forced a half-arsed smile. It was cheaper than a fine for hitting him, but depending on how you looked at it, the jail-cell might have been preferable to his presence.

Whatshisface, from whatsitsplace. He couldn't help an inward chuckle at the thought. He knew him from somewhere but didn't care where. It was a dusty old memory of a place arguably more shit than here even. Hell, at least getting shot at by jihadi's kept it interesting.

"Wainscott? Timmy Wainscott? You remember? Brownfoot, from REME? We met in-" The Lapine started, his voice grating on Victor like a high pitched whine from an engine that wanted to give up and die while climbing a hill, but just wouldn't, no matter how hard you damned well tried.

"Iraq, before Fallujah, yeah... How could I forget." They'd blown up his 'office' as it was once with a flashbang as an attempt to make him get the hint to leave them be. He'd never found out it was them. He'd also never quit bugging them while they were on base, asking what kind of secret stuff they were up to (They couldn't, and wouldn't tell him) or asking if he could get 'The best of the best' anything at all (No.), seeming to revere the special forces soldiers like a fucking teenage fangirl over a lead guitarist.

Getting shot at seemed preferable to being stuck on a base with him. They weren't heroes. They didn't need a fan club. Didn't want one. Victor muttered. He rapped the bar. Another drink was in order.

Still... The cotton-tail hanging off of his obviously drunk arm was a pretty enough sight to make his presence level up to 'temporarily tolerable, if irritating'. She seemed quiet, shy, her graceful little arms daintily around him, but her eyes were on the cat in front of her. The little red number on her barely passed her hips, and the top revealed tits that were as fluffy, round, and pristine white as her tail.

Her eyes roamed over him as much as his did her. The air between them grew charged.

"And uh, who's your pretty date here?" Victor smirked, extending his paw straight past the hare, bluntly and directly ignoring the annoying one for the one with the come-fuck-me-eyes.

"Oh, Uh... This is uh, my fiance, Lisa. Lisa, this is uh, Victor..." Brownfoot tried to interject himself between the two drunkenly, succeeding only in stumbling over himself as they broke the contact. Her fingers had been soft and fuzzy, just like he suspected the rest of her beneath the little red mini-skirt was. Their eyes remained locked for a few moments longer, his golden irises narrowing to predatory slits as she batted her eyelids and cast her own hazel eyes downwards.

Yeah. She'd do nicely.

"Oh?" He feigned interest in the conversation, but his eyes remained on the rabbit. "You're a damned lucky man. Why don't you grab us a few drinks, and we can get a table and chit chat a while?" Victor smirked as he stood, leading the rabbit away by her paw as her to-be-husband stammered.

"Y-Yeah, good idea! Just uh, save me a seat and I'll catch up in a second."

The moment they were out of earshot, Victor pulled the sweet and fluffy female against his side, leading her towards some tables in the shadows in the back of the club.

"So... You and Brownfoot eh? What's a fool like him got to do to get a girl like you then?" He rumbled, his paw resting on her hip. She didn't seem to object. In fact, he could have sworn she pressed herself back against him.

"He runs a building business in Essex. Pay's damned well." Victor couldn't help but chuckle at that, the panther's tail giving a swish behind him. Gold digger. He guided her down into a booth in the corner, far removed from the rest of the noise in the club... Well, after he'd growled the current occupants out with a jerked thumb and a growl of Fuck off.

They had had more sense than to argue.

"So it's money then?"

"He's sweet, and he treats me nicely... Even when I'm not always nice to him. He... Lacks a certain... Something..." Lisa explained, setting her paws in her lap as she gave an almost unnoticeable squirm.

"And that... Something... I take it you've found other ways to find it?" The insinuation was blunt, but the situation was almost hilariously surprising to Victor. And here he was thinking rabbits were supposed to be good at that... Though perhaps it didn't extend to hares.

"You could say that... From time to time, but he doesn't know that. Business trips, or out with the girls... He's usually away more than he is at home anyway, and I miss him so-"

"Uh-huh. Sure you do. Listen, your Fiance, as it were, isn't going to be busy forever-" He grabbed her roughly by the back of the head, taking a fistful of the cottony rabbit's hair as he pushed her head down into his lap. His fly made a distinctive zipping noise as he undid it, pressing her nose up against the inky black fur of his sheath.

"And I don't have time to chit chat. You came here for something. I came here for something. Your lips aren't helping either of us with small talk." The panther hissed. Fortunately, the cottony piece of ass in the seat next to him clearly wasn't one for small talk either. She gasped as she wrapped her muzzle around the rapidly emerging piece of bright red flesh, rasping over the small barb's that coated his feline pecker.

Victor just groaned happily, settling back into his seat. One paw rapped on the table.

A waiter came by, oblivious to the rabbit slobbering her way down his prick just under the table.

"Two shots of scotch. Good shit. Put them on the hare's tab."

She worked her mouth like a champion whore in Vegas, and it was all Victor could do not to dig his claws into the back of her scalp and facefuck the little rabbit into the underside of the table. Her paws clung to his thighs but quickly made their way to caressing his sheath and sack, rolling the fuzzy orbs between her fingers. He let a groan out towards the ceiling. Nobody would fucking hear anyway. The shitty music at least was coving the wet sound of this slutwife rabbit's noisy sucking. She bobbed her head in time with the tempo, but he didn't give her time to catch her breath.

Maybe if he was lucky, he could convince the slut to ride him in front of her finance before the night was out. He couldn't help an inward chuckle. At least that might get the noisy, nosey fuck to keep his gob shut like his lady. He humped up into the velvety soft caress of her tongue a few times, quickening her motions. Her husband was paying the bartender for the drinks.

"Drink up slut." He snarled, before shoving her head down into his lap, hilting himself in her throat. Her muscles rippled as she swallowed around his barbed prick, gulping down the thick load that sprayed from his nuts and right down her whorishly moaning gullet.

By the time he was spent, Brownfoot had almost reached them. She popped out from beneath the table just in time, quickly laughing as if at some shared joke.

"...Ahh, so that's why they call you Savage." Lisa smiled as she licked her puffy lips, snagging up the last stray drops of his thick panther cum from her fur. Gods she gave the best innocent slut smile. Victor could have seen through it a fucking mile away. This dumb guppy of a Hare ate it hook, line and sinker.

"Oh, honey! Victor was just telling me about his time in the service with you. Fascinating really. I never knew you knew such interesting folk." Jesus, she really fucking upsold it. Even kissed him flush on the lips, full tongue and all after having just blown the panther sitting across from them like her life depended on it. Victor just grinned and nodded as Brownfoot stammered something of an affirmation after the kiss. The slutty cottontail even winked at him after. Cheeky bitch.

The two shots came over. Victor downed both before taking up his next beer. If he was going to be forced to listen to the Hare drone on about his fucking shitty business company, he was at least going to be pleasantly hammered for it. It felt like what must have been a half-hour. Probably more. Victor's prick throbbed in his pants each time the Cotton-tail gave him some sultry come-fuck-me-eyes from across the table. It shrank when the Hare started droning on about some fucking highrise he was building.

Another beer came and went. Another twenty minutes with it.

Suddenly, Lisa all but jumped out of her seat.

"Oh, I love this song! Timmy! You should go get out there and show off your moves! Come on! For me?" Jesus fuck with the eyes again. She was like a puppy, and he was like an idiot falling for it.

"Oh, how could I say no? You coming Vic?"

"I'll watch. Keep your rabbit warm for you, how about that?" He almost snarled the words but had to keep his tongue bit lest it actually come off as a growl. Prey types startled easy. He didn't want that.

"Suit yourself! Just watch. I'm about to rock the show."

Brownfoot disappeared in the direction of the dancefloor. Lisa led Victor over to the railing that surrounded it on a raised viewing area, a solid, chest-high little fence. She waved sweetly to her Fiance while her little tail lifted the back of her skirt. No panties either. She really was a little fucking slut.

He didn't object, and placed himself behind her, cupping her entire fuzzy mound in a single great black paw. A fat finger stretched her slit open as he played with her clit with his thumb. He made her squirm like prey trapped under his paw, just like he liked them to.

"Sure you don't want him to watch as well?" He teased, jerking his chin at Brownfoot. True to her words, he wasn't a bad dancer. Too bad that didn't count for shit in the sack.

"Let him have his fun. I'll have mine..." Her paw found the tent of his pants and made short work of his fly. She stroked across his bared flesh with rapid, jerking motions, teasing his sensitive bards and smearing her fingers with precum.

"Condom?" She asked sweetly. As if she had fucking expected him to have one magically on him.

"Nope. Bite down, else your bunny will hear your moans." He snarled, an actual snarl this time as she shoved her hand aside and forced the edge of his free paw into her mouth. He felt pinpricks of her teeth as her cry was muffled in his palm, sweet, tight warmth of prey engulfing half his length all at once.

Her quaking legs might have signalled her desire to stop, but her hand reaching back and grabbing his hip sure didn't. He obliged the latter and fucked the rest of himself quickly into her. Short, rough thrusts that dragged his barbs along her cunt lips, plucking the flesh like strings on a harp. Her moans were clear to his sharp ears but utterly drowned by the music even to a couple of partygoers, oblivious to the rough fuck happening besides them.

She was sopping wet around him, and he could smell the tang on sex on the air. The bunny was a slut, and she fucking wanted his fat, panther cock. Hell, he doubted she even let Padfoot bare back her. Tight like a virgin, but wet like a whore. Oh, she knew what she wanted alright. He was going to fucking give it to her. She practically milked his cock, begging for another hard thrust.

One paw against the small of her back, he forced her tits down against the rail, waving to Padfoot as the rabbit glanced over and waved dumbly back. Drunk idiot probably didn't even realize his to-be-wife was getting fucking ruined right in front of him. His loss. He fucked the cotton-tail even harder after that, snarling in her ear. He dominated her, like a predator ought to have.

"Good little slut bunny. Inside okay?" Trick question. He didn't care. She shook her head quickly.

"Ahh~ Out- He'll know som-Ngghh!" Her protest was cut off as he groped one of her tits in his paw, thrusting deep into her again. He swore his barbed crown was kissing her cervix. He trust again to confirm it, and growled in satisfaction at the moan he got in response.

"Beg."

"Ah! Oh! P-Please, just cum out-" Another shove. Another muffled moan. His teeth grazed the back of her neck. Her fur stood on end, her body trembling like a leaf. He held her on that plateau, and would keep her there until the little slut told him what he wanted to hear.

"Say it, slut."

"I-Inside! Fuck!" She squealed like a fucking teenager when she came. He had to clamp her muzzle shut with his paw. Tight wetness soaked his sheath as he unloaded the pent up seed into her little slut happy passage while she moaned and ground back against his barbs. He gave a few last thrusts for good measure as the music wound down, and managed to yank himself from her dripping cunt in time to make himself decent again.

She barely turned around as the Hare walked back over to them.

"Wowza, quite a thrill, huh? Bet you didn't think I had that in me, eh?" Dumb fucking Hare. Lisa clung to his arm like the sweet, fucked silly slut she was. Victor could see his cum trailing down the inside of her thigh.

"Never would have guessed. You can have your lady back. Kept her entertained for you. I'm going to bounce, but uh, hey. Great catching up, yeah?" Victor made to make good his escape. His hunting was done for the night. Mission accomplished. Prey fucked. Now to exfiltrate before anyone raised the alarm.

"Oh, wait, sweetie. I was just thinking, we were planning on throwing a Christmas party later this week. I'm sure Victor would love to come if you asked..." She made it so sickeningly sweet, Victor doubted the drunk Hare even registered half of the words she'd said.

"Oh, uh... Yeah... So how about it? Hey buddy? Old times sake?"

He gave them his contact details (or at least a burner one.) faster than he gave it to most of his one night stand whores on speed-dial.

"I look forward to it and seeing your lovely lady again. You're a damned lucky man Padfoot. She's a steal."

Victor couldn't have helped his grin all the way back to his car if he had tried. If he had to suffer through a meal and small talk for the satisfaction of fucking the dumb Hare's fiance for him again... Well, as long as there was alcohol, it was a worthwhile hunt to go on.