FSE

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Warning - This chapter contains (mostly/awkwardly) consensual sex between a minor and an adult...Something I do not condone, but is part of the story.

Chapter XXIII - Near Misses, Direct Hits

Tasha squeezed her lover's paw nervously, as they sat in the mini-hospital that served the staff of their ski town, fidgeting and trying not to think about how cold it was sitting there in a skirt with no underpants on as the doctor had asked.

Insisting on a pap smear before a pregnancy test. What the hell is wrong with this guy?

She knew, logically, it wasn't a bad idea. She just resented the fact that she was forced to go commando and put up with the discomfort of the test. The cold metal table under her rear wasn't helping.

"Um...Do you want to sit on my jacket?"

She turned her head towards the wolf, who looked afraid, abashed, rumpled...Getting him up that morning had been difficult, given he'd been up all night worrying and obsessively reading WebMD.

Tasha bit off a snappish comment, realizing she didn't actually have a good reason to be mad at him, and just gave a soft nod before standing up. Tristan pulled off his jacket and laid it over the metal exam table, spreading it out carefully so she wouldn't be sitting on zippers, then patted it for her and helped her sit back down.

"Thank you...I'm not going to break, you know."

Tristan flushed and shrugged, not meeting her eyes for a second as he squeezed her paw again.

"I'm comforting myself by being chivalrous, okay? Sue me."

He said it with a joking tone and a tentative smile, meeting her eyes again with hope in them. Hope she was done being mad, maybe? Tasha couldn't help it, she snorted, rolled her eyes, and squeezed his paw back.

"So going to kick your ass later for all this..."

He was about to retort when the doctor came back in. She was a small, round, fluffy chinchilla woman with tiny little glasses she was using to read over a clipboard, and she moved with a motion that could best be characterized as 'buttling'.

"No immediate evidence of infection," she began, in Spanish. "But we will need to send away to a lab for certainty."

Tasha nodded, her heart thumping as she waited in suspense for the part she was actually unsure about.

The doctor looked back and forth between them, a page lifted in one paw as she did, and wetted her lips with a pink tongue before continuing.

"You are her boyfriend, right?"

Tristan nodded, swallowing, his adam's apple bobbing as he did. The wolf restrained himself from the impulse to grab and shake the doctor for leaving them in suspense and demand she come out with it.

The chinchilla set the clipboard down, and shook her head at the two of them, giving a half-disapproving half-knowing look.

"I don't know whether to say congratulations or I'm sorry. You are pregnant."

Tasha felt her gut drop out through her feet and a burning combination of conflicting emotions constricting in her chest.

Buck woke more from the pressure than the pain. Pain he could just ignore, after so many years of being cut and burned and shot at. The pressure made him open his eyes because it told him he was receiving treatment, and he needed to know it was competent.

The first thing he noticed was a concrete roof over his head, and a lot of dust.

Bunker. Don't remember getting here, must have blacked out...Artillery barrage...

For just a second, his mind told him Khe Sanh, and he had to close his eyes tightly and remind himself that this couldn't be Viet Nam. Not hot or wet enough.

Then, a voice brought him back to the present, reminding him he was in Sarajevo, and it was the 90's.

"Hey, boss, you're awake." Arlen sounded calm, rumbly, and when Buck opened his eyes he saw the big black tiger silhouetted against the grey wall behind him, and several other blurrier furs moving around.

His vision shot into relief so sharp it hurt, or would have if his leg didn't suddenly explode with the agony of bones being re-aligned by paw.

The stag gave a grunt of pain, but only a grunt. Most men would have screamed, thrashed...He knew better, and was trained better.

Pain is temporary. Its just weakness leaving the body. Fuck, ow.

The pressure on his shoulder told him that Arlen was holding him down. The pressure on his leg felt like a rig meant to push two broken halves of a bone together, and it hurt like crazy.

When he opened his eyes, Buck saw that the medic was just a kid. Sixteen, maybe, and skinny for her age. Then he recognized her as the sniper they'd nearly killed earlier, and managed a pain-tinged grin.

"Good call, Blacktiger. Sitrep."

"We were running from the artillery and tanks when we nearly got squashed by armor going through buildings. You collapsed, she slapped me awake and got us both down here into the subway. They're Bosnian resistance, I think. Bos...Bosniak? No idea."

Arlen looked around and gestured into the blurry darkness.

"There's about fifty down here, mostly young children. Our sniper girl seems to be in charge. Her name's Lamia, I think. A few of the kids speak enough English to ask me how the Cubs did this year." Arlen shook his head with a tired grin, the kind Buck knew meant he was putting off trauma with humor. Tight around the edges, the eyes a little too wide.

"You hurt?"

"Nothing major. Just some shrapnel, scrapes, shit like that."

Buck nodded, then asked more questions while digesting their situation.

"How bad am I?"

"Uh...Compound fracture. Bone was through the skin. We've got no antibiotics, and the Serb army is rolling all over above us. From what I can gather, it's a full-on street fight. Defenders are using soviet RPG's and blasting the shit out of Milosevic, but losing ground."

Buck grunted, and looked at the girl, as she looked at him. She had pretty eyes, bright blue-green like the sea, and despite all the grime and fur-paint she had a good face, and blushed abruptly when she realized they'd made a bit too much eye contact, going back to tying off the splinting on his leg. Which looked damn professional, for a civilian child, even in a combat zone.

"Rene and Zebra?"

Arlen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with a bandaged paw.

"No contact since we got underground. I've got no reception, and the shooting outside has been constant for the last two hours, which is about as long as you've been out."

Buck looked up at the ceiling, noting the constant shivering the old concrete was doing, the dust that was moving, the distant thuds that reverberated even this far underground.

"Hell of a rain out there. If I know Rene, he'll be at another air strip somewhere outside the fight right now, and Zebra's crazy ass will be wandering through the ruins looking for us or drugged to shit tied up in the plane."

Arlen snickered, then stopped. Then started snickering again, which rolled into a laugh, and then into a hysterical huffing noise, as the tiger curled up on the floor. Buck reached out an arm and patted him on the shoulder, just to maintain physical contact in hopes the tiger would make his way back out of the hysterics in a minute.

He knew, from long experience, what the other mercenary was experiencing. In all their work together, artillery hadn't really been a problem. Not a sustained barrage while running from tanks, an experience that could seriously impact anyone. It was a testament to the tiger's willpower that he'd waited this long to curl up and freak out.

Two fucking hours? Jesus, I fucking shat myself during my first barrage, and it wasn't half this bad.

The mouse girl looked at Buck and said something in a hushed tone. When he grimaced at her and shrugged, she sighed, rolled her eyes, and then darted off into the darkness with purpose, her downy-furred tail trailing behind a slender rear dressed in grey urban camo pants.

Cripes, eyes off the jailbait, old man.

Arlen managed to get out a few words, in a very quiet voice, and they made the stag worry suddenly much less.

"When I get home...I'm not getting out of bed for a week. Neither's Sato."

The stag laughed, a bark of amusement, and whacked Arlen on the shoulder companionably.

"First we've got to get there. After we get some rest, we'll see about finding some way out of this shit-hole. Any clue if the tunnels go anyplace interesting?"

The tiger was shivering, but he nodded, managing to maintain his faculties.

"Only went about a hundred feet down. Lots of rubble, but no signs of major collapse."

"Good. That's our best bet then, if we can get one of them to lead us."

"Roger that, boss."

Zebra had been following the tank column for hours now, and the exertion of keeping up while staying hidden from both defensive snipers and Serbian tanks was just damn annoying. A firefight he'd be happy to get involved with, those were fun. Trying to dodge RPGs, mortar shells, sniper fire, and tank cannons was, he figured, maybe not the best choice he'd ever made.

"'Ey, Rene. Choo foun' a landing place yet?"

The sound through his earpiece was largely the noise of airplane engines buzzing, but he could just make out the hare's voice over the cacophony.

"Yeah, but I'm not down yet. Trying to keep an eye on things down there and stay out of sight of any clever assholes with rocket launchers. Resistance is all over the damn place. You'd be smart to just bunker up somewhere and wait this shit out."

The burro laughed brayingly, covered by the sudden pounding of tank fire nearby, and the rushing-water-thunder sound of buildings collapsing.

"Are choo keeding mang? Eets like the Fourth of Choo-lye!"

"Would you cut the fucking idiot accent? Seriously, its distracting."

Zebra laughed and ducked inside a ruined concrete building to take a break, pulling out his canteen and taking a deep drink.

"Sorry man, you know its jus' for fun." The accent was still there, just not so caricatured. He knew it bothered the hell out of Rene, but then again, the hare was already pretty high-strung, which just made it fun to poke at him.

An aggrieved sigh came over the radio. Then a sudden inhalation.

"Shit. I don't think they're trying to take the city right now, Zebra. They're knocking it the fuck down. Get outta there, man, I'm not fucking around any more!"

The burro leaned forward and glanced outside at the rapidly more and more ruined city-scape, and gave a nonchalant shrug to nobody in particular.

"Don' worry about me, man. I owe Buck five dollars, an' I don't believe in welshing."

"Oh fuck you, you just want to get shot at again. I swear I don't know why we bring you for this crap."

He grinned with his yellowed buck teeth.

"Because I always find a way back out."

A second after those words, a flash and thunder lit up the building, and Zebra was throwing himself flat, as a stray RPG round struck not twenty feet from him and blew outward in a shower of masonry, hailing the hardy burro with brick and pebbles that stung him into curling up to protect his head and face.

Then, underneath him, the ground simply gave up and collapsed in, taking the braying fur down into the dark.

An hour after Arlen had managed to calm down and drift off, Buck had been moved to a more private part of their new temporary tunnel home. The teenagers moving him mostly looked hungry, frightened, but they gave him looks he thought might be hope. It curdled his gut, knowing he wasn't likely going to be able to help them.

He'd slept soundly in the cot they'd taken him there on, covered over with a wool blanket against the wet chill of the subway tunnel, despite the rumbling shakes of artillery fire shifting the earth around them.

The sound of footsteps, even quiet ones like these, was enough to make him crack one eye open, though. When he saw the slender riflemouse from earlier enter into the office they were using as his quarters, he gave up the pretense of being asleep and slowly sat up, using his grip on the remnants of decorative tile to help.

The girl was looking at the floor, and it was at odds with what he'd seen of her personality. She'd cleaned up, he thought, though her fur wasn't too different in color from before. Natural camouflage, he figured.

Lamia pulled a rolling chair with no back out from under one of the desks and sat on it, perched with her footpaws on one of the rollers, and then spoke in halting, broken English.

"You...American?"

Buck nodded and brushed some headfur out of his eyes, snuffling to clear his snout of night-time crust.

"I am, yeah."

She lifted her head then, eyes gleaming from under the ragged bangs she'd evidently left for herself. He recognized a self-haircut when he saw one, probably to prevent getting lice or getting long hair stuck in one's own equipment.

"More Americans..." She paused for a few seconds, seeming to count in her head. "More come? You help?"

Buck met her eyes, his gaze smooth, cool, trying to figure out if they would keep being helped if he told her the truth. The look in her eyes was desperate. Calm, but desperate, and he could respect it enough that lying would make him feel like a real ass.

With a sigh at his own principles, he shook his head slowly.

"We're not with the Army. We're mercenaries. I don't think the Americans are coming. Don't think they could if they wanted."

The girl struggled to keep up, her brow delicately furrowed and her paws folded in her lap. The posture told him a lot about her...She'd been trained in how to sit, how to hold herself like a lady. Perfect teeth made him think she'd had good dentistry, good genes, probably both. Coolness under fire like she'd shown the night before wasn't a sign of a street kid or orphan, who would mostly panic and run in a real fight.

He tilted his head at her, as her expression turned downward, her eyes widening and nostrils flaring out a bit as she got up and approached him.

"N-no! We need..." She struggled for the words, waving her paws while trying to think of them. "Things! Help! R-rescue! We...We do anything!"

Buck winced, an expression he tried to avoid, and put a paw over his eyes with a smack. This reminded him far too much of the pleading looks Vietnamese farmers had given him once, one day when he'd been separated from his unit during an action to stop a massacre in a town. It had all gone to shit, and the town was going up in flames...

He remembered a woman holding a child up to him, and having to push her away to keep firing at the Viet Cong. He remembered seeing both furs get caught in the napalm strike that stopped the battle.

"Shit. Kid...I don't even know how the hell to get out of h-whoah hey!"

The girl had climbed up onto the cot and was tugging at his belt, tears in her eyes as she refused to meet his. The stag reached out, grabbing at her wrist and finding he was too weakened by his wound to really exert much strength.

He grunted as she got his pants open, and wrapped her downy-furred paw around his flaccid cock, squeezing it as she looked up finally with a plea in her eyes and on her lips.

"I d-do anything! H-help us!"

The captain just stared at her, unbelieving. His evaluation of her had said 'debutante, daughter of the wealthy', not 'street hooker', 'abused child' or 'desperate victim.'

"Let go, you don't have to-!"

The girl dipped down, sliding backwards on the cot till her legs were off of it and on the floor, and wrapped her lips around his shaft all in one lithe movement that left him just staring at her. He couldn't lie to himself and say he wasn't attracted. He knew he was. But she was too young, and the reasons were all wrong, and when she cupped his balls in her fingers, he knew he could neither get away nor refuse to help her.

With a grunt of frustration, Buck whapped his head back against the wall, shifting with concealed surprise as his shaft somehow managed to find enough blood to get slowly more erect in the hot wet suction that had found it.

"Fucking shit...Get the hell off of me..."

His voice sounded weak, and the desperate girl knew she might have a chance to force him to help them. Despite how demeaning it was, she knew there was no way to defend the other children much longer. The only way to survive was to get them all out.

She figured if that meant sucking off a strange handsome older man, even fucking him here in the dirty underground, it was a small price to pay for the people she was responsible to.

Lamia had him down to the root in his half-hard state, and was licking him like a lollipop as her pink and downy-furred fingers stroked over his leathery ball sack, teasing them in the way her boyfriend had told her about once, what seemed an eternity ago, their sweaty amateurish fumbling in her family's tree house seeming so very different it was like another life.

The texture wasn't horribly unpleasant to her senses...Bigger, veinier, more fleshy than her boyfriend's had once been. She pushed thoughts of him out of her mind, knowing remembering his death wouldn't help her go through with this.

Buck managed to move his arm enough to take her shoulder in paw, and try feebly to push her away again, which caused her to raise those pleading eyes again. The image of the pretty mouse looking at him like that, her mouth full of his growing cock was one he was sure he wouldn't forget or ever stop feeling like an asshole for.

"Fucking damnit..."

The girl's eyes watered, and she got a crestfallen look, having understood half of his sentence and none of its intent. She drew off of him, though she did stop to slaver his head and give him a few strokes, again refusing to meet his eyes in a way that had Buck wondering what was going through her mind.

He nearly shouted when she got up and started undoing her camo pants, but realized how this would look to everyone. What the consequences might be if the other kids saw. He wasn't sure if they would freak out and kill her or something. Buck just didn't know enough about Sarajevo, just that it had a lot of very strongly religious people of a bunch of different faiths.

She sat on his waist, and it made him wince, then realize his leg wasn't really hurting.

Sex endorphins. They probably put painkillers in the water they gave me, too. Would explain the weakness...

She was naked from the waist down, and he had to pull his eyes away from the perfectly-formed pink lips that pouted from the soft fur of her inner thighs, while lifting up his paws to push at her. Again misunderstanding, she bit her lip and leaned into them, guiding the paws to her still-clothed breasts.

If this wasn't a fucking travesty, this would be funny as hell. Goddamnit how am I going to get these kids outta here?

Without even realizing he was doing it, his fingers had found her nipples through the cloth and were playing with them, gently flicking over and tugging them in a way that made Lamia squeak in surprise. She'd been trying to get a good hold on his dick again, but fumbled it, letting it splat down against his hard stomach, still wet with her saliva.

The mouse, determined, grabbed it up again and maneuvered, trying to ignore the fingers on her breasts and the wetness it was bringing out between her thighs, as she sat forward, missing once, then repositioning the hot flesh and managing to sink half the tip between her lips with a gasp.

Buck felt her hot wetness, the slick feeling of labia on his tip, and opened his eyes again, managing to speak in a strained tone.

"You don't...Have to fuck m..."

His words were cut off by a gasp as she slipped, losing her balance on the cot a bit, and sat all the way down on him with a yelp and a clench of pain. When he could get enough control of his hormones to look down, he saw she was rising again on his shaft, which was pink with a bit of blood.

I'm not THAT huge. Shit, she was a virgin, oh great. Congrats, chief, you're a fucking child molester now."

The captain just sighed with that thought, and pushed it into the realm of his brain labeled 'things to worry about when not in imminent threat of death'. She was determined, and he couldn't actually stop her. Since she'd made the choice, and he couldn't un-make it for her, he just brought his paws down to the edge of her long shirt and started rolling it upwards.

If I'm going to Hell, I might as well spit in the devil's eye while I'm at it.

She was too focused to notice him rolling up her shirt until her breasts were free, unbound by any bra thanks to their rather small size and her own lack of resources. The chill across her nipples made her focus on the present again, and not on the hot ache in her crotch. The stag was holding her shirt up with one paw and playing with one breast in the other, while looking somehow frustrated, maybe angry.

She flinched inside, and slowed down her plunges on his lap to start pulling off her top. When it went over her head and to the side, she was naked, except for two pairs of socks she wore to keep the boots from chafing, and the boots themselves. Lamia could see the stag's eyes going over her slender, athletic, slightly malnourished body, and was a little disgusted with herself...But certain she was doing the right thing for the orphanage children. Though the hardness was still growing stiffer and bigger inside of her, and she was worried it might rip her open before he was done.

Buck let a paw slide from her breasts as the other cupped what it could and toyed at the nipple again, and he lowered the free one down, using his fingertips to trace over her inner thighs and slowly zero in on what he was looking for. When they reached the joining of their thighs and managed to find her speed, his paw moved to her, and a finger went out to trace over the little red clit he could just barely see through the fur.

The girl let out a surprised squeak and hunched forward, then suddenly stopped thrusting as her silky inner walls went crazy milking him, her breasts bouncing very slightly as she sucked in breath and orgasmed with a look of surprise as much as pleasure. Buck couldn't resist lifting his head up and kissing her, very gently, tracing his rough wind-calloused lips against her extremely soft ones.

After a second of gasping and arching herself forward, her lips responded seemingly of their own will, questing nervously against his as the stag took his paw off her pussy and wrapped it around her lower back so he could take some modicum of control. At least, he figured, gentle pressure to guide someone seemed to transcend language barriers.

A short time after she'd nearly fainted from her surprise orgasm, Lamia was rising and dropping on the stag again, and she was biting her lip as the hot wet pressure seemed not to reduce inside her. She knew, at least in theory, what an orgasm was...But it had been her first, and far more intense than anything she had been led to believe. Wriggling her hips, she was trying different angles of thrust, riding the handsome, muscular creature beneath her rear and between her thighs.

She was sweating from the exertion despite the cold, and blessing her luck for having been more athletic than normal for a girl of her country. Lamia leaned forward, looking for a kiss again, and found the stag more than willing to meet her. This time, his tongue traced against her lips, and she pulled back from it, giving him a curious stare. He responded by gripping her hips with both paws and pulling her down onto him. The mouse girl yelped and squirmed, and hunched as she came again, muscular silk-smooth wet inner walls clamping down and milking the musky organ deep inside her body.

Buck let his head fall back against the wall, as the twitching flesh surrounding his shaft quivered harder again, rhythmically coaxing him for his sperm, and he bit his lip hard as he tried to push her off of him, feeling the sweet boiling sensation in his girl-juice soaked balls.

Lamia noticed the pressure, but her body seemed to have locked up. While her pussy was throbbing with explosions of pleasure, her legs didn't want to move, and the look on the stag's face either meant she was somehow hurting him or he was about to get her pregnant...Which she wasn't sure was even possible, given he was a stag and she a mouse.

With a grunt of effort and willpower, she shoved with both paws and fell back on her rear between his knees, the big stag cock bouncing free just in time. It pulsed once, twice, and she stared in fascination as it exploded, the first rope firing hard enough to splatter across her chin and cheek, and the rest firing hotly onto her breasts and belly.

Panting, she stared at his groin, as it dribbled more cum than she'd ever seen from her late boyfriend, and as the same gelid fluid dripped from her nipples and down her throat.

She hoped it had been good enough for him...That he and his companion would help them. She didn't want to be responsible for the other children dying.