Motor Oil Mamba
This was a gift piece I wrote for a friend of mine featuring one of my alter egos, Shelby Foxkin. It's mostly fluffy, just something for fun rather than any real plot, but still I can't help but sneak in some story with my sex.
Gravel skittered across the driveway, thrown by the tires of an old, rattling pickup truck. This was a questionable sort of place, the young buck thought to himself; it looked more like a run down shack than a proper garage. But, the beaver in the driver's seat had assured him that this was the only place within sixty miles that he'd find help at this hour of the evening. The sun had already disappeared beneath the horizon, leaving a soft purple glow of dusk behind, and country folk tended to close their shops early.
The driver whistled through his buckteeth. "Here ya are, sonny."
Eric squinted at the open door of the garage, trying to see if anyone was around. "Thanks, I guess this'll have to do."
"Beggars can't be choosers," the old beaver admonished him. "Miss Shelby is the only one that stays up late 'round these parts."
The stag had a hard time believing that half past eight was late. He threw his shoulder into the rusted passenger door of the truck, forcing it open. The door protested with a loud groan. "I believe you. Thanks for the ride."
"Yer welcome."
As Eric dragged his crippled motorcycle out of the bed of the truck, someone in mechanic's coveralls emerged from the garage. He paused dead in his tracks, bike half-on and half-off the truck, as his eyes fixed on the vixen that he assumed was Miss Shelby. She was the most unusual creature he'd seen in his life: half fox and half leopard. Her body was distinctly vulpine, but her tail and ears were golden and decorated with rosettes. She looked perfectly at home covered in engine grease, and though her expression was severe at first, a fanged grin crossed her lips as she approached. Once she was close enough, the buck was able to make out a red patch on the front of her coveralls that was embroidered with the name "Shelby."
She addressed the beaver, ignoring Eric for the moment. "What'd you bring me this time, Buddy?"
Eric's chauffeur threw a thumb back his direction. "Found me a city boy stuck on the side o' the road a few miles back. Thought ya might be able ta help 'im out."
Shelby glanced at the stag for the first time, giving him a nonchalant once-over. "City slicker, indeed," she commented. Eric supposed he looked the part, dressed in a button-up shirt and jeans along with an expensive leather riding jacket. She continued: "You need some help with that, honey?"
Eric realized he was still holding on to his motorcycle but hadn't actually pulled it off the truck's tailgate yet. "Uh, no, I got it."
She watched as he carefully lowered it to the ground and rolled it up the driveway towards the garage. Buddy waved his goodbye before tearing up more gravel on his way out. When they reached the shop, Eric took a good look around the inside of the garage. A cluttered front office was to his left, anything usable long-buried underneath piles of mail and dirty rags. The garage bay itself was fairly well-organized although it was covered in dirt and grime. There was another pickup truck not unlike Buddy's propped up on a jack, and he assumed she was busy with that vehicle when he arrived. Another car was in front of it, further in the garage, but it was covered completely with a grimy canvas tarp. It was obvious that Shelby was the only one there.
Eric let her take his motorcycle from him as they stepped further into the garage. "I take it you're in charge here?"
"Yep," she answered flatly as she propped his bike up on the kickstand. "Technically I'm closed, but I'll take pity on you and have a look at your bike. What happened?"
He rubbed at the back of his neck nervously, slightly embarrassed by the mishap. "Not real sure, actually. I was driving along, and then I had to come to a stop, and the engine just died. Couldn't get it going again."
She knelt down in front of him and started fiddling with things on the engine that Eric didn't really understand, so instead he occupied his mind by admiring how her coveralls pulled tight around her hindquarters as she crouched.
"You don't deserve something this good," she muttered.
Eric gasped, unsure of how to respond to such a blunt statement. "What?"
"If you're gonna ride a bike like this, you need to learn how to take care of it. I'm glad you chose a 250cc though, most people try to start out on something way too big for them to handle. You are pretty new to riding aren't you?"
A nervous chuckle escaped his throat as he realized that her first statement had been about the bike and not herself. He was surprised she could already tell that he was still learning to ride, and he nodded in response to her question. "Yeah," he replied meekly.
She held up the end of a frayed wire. "Look here, your clutch cable's snapped."
He looked at what she was holding, but truth be told, he didn't really know what to make of it. "That's bad, I take it?"
The vixen dropped the cable and gave him a sardonic smirk. "Yeah, that's bad. It means you can't put it into gear. You're not going anywhere until its replaced."
"Oh. Well you can do that, right?"
She stood up and stretched her back, arms outstretched. Eric glanced momentarily at the fabric stretching across her breasts, then quickly tried to focus on her face. "Of course I can," she yawned. "But most folks around here bring me old, battered pickup trucks and farm tractors. I don't keep late-model motorcycle parts just lying around. I'll have to head down to Pete's to buy a cable. Once he's open in the morning, that is."
Eric really didn't want to wait until morning. "Are you sure there's nothing else you can do?"
Her russet face scrunched up adorably as she gave it some thought. "I could just rig it up by slipping it through the clutch lever and tying it off with an M6 nut, but that's not exactly what I'd call a good idea."
The young buck sighed, his shoulders drooping. "Guess that's that, then. Morning it is."
Shelby flashed him a fanged grin that made his ears twitch. "Don't look so hopeless. Pete opens his shop at eight. We'll get you outta here by nine, promise."
"Yeah, luckily I'm not in a hurry. Just wasn't looking forward to spending the night out this way. I saw a motel back up the road a couple miles; guess I'll start walking."
Her eyes widened with genuine disgust. "Don't. That place'll give you fleas. And other things... unless it was your intention to pick up a hooker tonight?"
His face lit up with surprise. "Uh, no, that wasn't what I meant. You got a suggestion, then?"
She shrugged and started to close the bay door. "You can stay here tonight, no charge. So long as you don't get into trouble, that is."
He scrunched up his nostrils. "What? Sleep here on the oil-stained concrete?"
Shelby laughed, a bubbly sound that echoed off the walls and reverberated in his ears. "No, doofus, upstairs. Come with me. What's your name, by the way?"
The stag felt a little ashamed that he'd forgotten to introduce himself. "Eric," he stated plainly as he followed her up a set of wooden stairs that were tucked into a corner. They were so nondescript, he hadn't even noticed them before.
"Well, Eric, you can call me Shelby. Welcome to my humble abode."
She reached a landing at the top of the staircase and pushed open a rickety white door that had long since turned gray from greasy paw prints. They stepped into a cramped apartment that looked like it was last decorated at least two decades ago. A tiny TV in one corner blared some children's program, and that immediately drew Eric's attention to the cluttered coffee table where a young kit was coloring books.
Shelby noticed his fascination. "That's my son, Carroll." She stooped down and rubbed the kid on the back in an affectionate manner. "C'mon, Cary, time to get ready for bed."
The child made some minor protest and left his coloring books, giving Eric only a cursory glance as he brushed past the stag and disappeared down a hallway. Eric watched with fascination until he was gone. Unlike his mother, Carroll looked every bit the purebred fox, red from head to toe.
The young buck finally turned his attention back to Shelby. "So you live up here?"
She nodded and waved him towards the kitchen, which was really just an extension of the living room that had a table and a fridge crammed into it. Eric assumed that somewhere under the piles of dirty dishes were a sink and a range.
"Yep," she affirmed. "Not the nicest place, I admit, but the commute's great."
Eric started to reply but got distracted as she unzipped the front of her coveralls, revealing the white tank top that she wore underneath. It certainly showed off the curves of her bosom better than the work clothes did. The downy white fur of her chest and belly also enticed him to stare longer than he probably should have. It took him a moment before he realized that she was offering him a beer.
He took the bottle from her and blushed a little, hoping she didn't notice him staring. "Thanks."
The vixen grinned again and plopped down into a chair at the kitchen table, prompting him to do the same. "Have a sit."
He did, and for a moment he watched her as she threw back half a bottle of beer in one swig. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply; clearly this was some sort of ritual to unwind after the day's work, Eric concluded. He took a cautious sip of his own beer and found it very bitter. It was probably the cheapest stuff at the corner store; he was used to more highbrow fare at the local pub back home.
Eric fidgeted with his beer bottle nervously, wondering if Carroll's father would come in the door any minute and demand to know what the stag was doing hanging around Shelby. After a few moments of worry, he finally decided to break the silence. "So, when does your husband get home?"
He caught Shelby mid-drink, and she nearly choked on it. "By that remark," she sputtered before composing herself. "I reckon you're assuming that Carroll has a father. He doesn't." Eric quickly regretted bringing the topic up. "Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it."
She was pointedly keeping her eyes focused on something in the living room, trying not to look at him directly. One of her golden ears twitched agitatedly, and Eric followed it with his eyes. "No, it's alright. Five years ago I was young and stupid and thought I was in love. Then I got knocked up, and the son of a bitch skipped town. It's just me and Cary now. He's never even met his father. I think I prefer it that way."
The buck was taken aback by her candor. "Wow. I... I don't know what to say."
Shelby finally looked his way and beamed at him. "Don't worry none about it. I get on just fine by myself."
He held up his beer in salute. "Cheers, then."
She laughed and clinked the neck of her beer bottle against his, then they both drank to his toast. For a moment, they looked at one another over their bottles, eyes locked silently, her chocolate brown engaged with his emerald green. Her eyes sparkled in a way that made Eric wonder what she was thinking at that moment, but he wasn't quite brave enough to ask. Her face crinkled in another smile before she put down her drink, and the young buck found himself blushing again, unsure of what to make of this unusual woman.
"So," she breathed. "How'd you end up in this backwater hell-hole? You certainly don't look like you're from around here."
Eric chuckled softly. "No, can't say that I am. I have family out in Opelousas about sixty miles from here. I was heading home to Texas."
Her eyebrows lifted. "Oh, a Texas boy? Where's your official hat and belt buckle?"
He took the cliché tease in stride. "Yeah, have your laughs. I'm a city boy, just like you supposed. Not as many cowboys in downtown Dallas as you'd think."
The vixen grinned and reached back towards the fridge to grab a second bottle of beer. She popped the top off of it and sat there for a moment, leaning her head to one side and staring at Eric, not really in a hurry to do anything but watch him. The young buck found himself feeling a little uncomfortable; he shifted in his seat slightly and took a long draw from his own beer, careful to keep the nearly unpalatable bitterness from showing on his face. He kept trying to think of something clever to say, but as he stared into her eyes, he found that he'd completely forgotten the English language.
As quickly as the moment had come, it was shattered by the pitter-patter of a tiny kit's feet across the floor of the living room. Carroll had impeccable timing. He wore a pair of yellow footie pajamas and tugged a stuffed rabbit behind him by the arm.
"Mommy, I'm ready for bed!"
Shelby leaned downed and kissed him on the forehead, then ruffled his headfur between the ears. "Okay, honey. Go get in bed, and I'll be right there to tuck you in."
Satisfied, Carroll dragged his bunny companion back down the hallway to his room. Eric found himself smiling; the kit was certainly charming, and he liked Shelby's maternal side. He wondered to himself if that left room for someone like him in her life, though. Just as quickly, however, he shook the thought from his mind, reminding himself that he was just staying here for the night. Tomorrow he would head home and never see this place again.
The vixen stretched and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I need to put Cary to bed, and then I'm hitting the hay as well. You're welcome to the couch or the floor, whatever you prefer. Sorry it's not exactly the best accommodations, but at least you'll be flea-free when you leave."
Eric chuckled. "Thanks, your hospitality has been more than kind."
She nodded and headed off after Carroll, continuing to guzzle beer like a trucker as she walked. Eric was left to finish his beer alone. Not that he minded; watching her hips sway and her tail swish as she walked away from him was just fine with him.
*****
The clatter of steel striking concrete woke Eric from a deep slumber. He rubbed at his eyes, and for a brief moment he was disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings. Then he remembered that he was laying on the couch in the mechanic girl's living room, not far from where she'd left him earlier in the evening. He'd managed to make it comfortable enough and even found a threadbare blanket to cover himself. The harsh light of a streetlamp outside cast an eerie orange glow through the apartment, and the young buck tried his best to acclimate to the dimness.
For a moment, he lay still under the inadequate blanket, wondering if he should investigate the sound that roused him from his dreamless sleep. With a heavy sigh, he reminded himself that the only other people in the building were a woman and a five-year-old boy, so it fell to him to fulfill his manly duty. He threw the covers off, and for a brief moment he wondered if he should bother pulling his jeans back on. He decided it wasn't really necessary and creeped towards the stairs, reluctance shallowing his every breath. A quick scan of the room revealed nothing that would make a suitable weapon, and so he hoped that his fists would prove adequate to quell the disturbance from downstairs.
He rounded the corner and looked down towards the garage. He could see light emanating from below him. Surely a burglar wouldn't turn the lights on, right? With slightly more confidence than before, he took each step one at a time, biting his lip every time his hooves clacked upon the wooden steps. It only took him a few seconds to reach the bottom, but it felt like several gut-wrenching minutes to him. He peeked around the doorjamb to get a look at the potential intruder or intruders.
He blushed a little as he was greeted by Shelby's hindquarters. She was leaning over the side of a car, fiddling with something under the hood. Her spotted tail swished back and forth in a way that spoke of agitation and concentration. Moreover, she'd shed her mechanic's coveralls, and all that covered her shapely rump now were a pair of black satin panties. Eric attempted to turn quietly and head back up the stairs without disturbing her, but at the same time he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from her derrière. Distracted, he caught one of his antlers on the doorjamb that served as his cover, and a curt curse escaped his lips. His head smarted from the impact.
Shelby made a sound of surprise and tried to stand up straight, ramming her head into the hood of the car. A tool dropped from her paw and clattered down somewhere into the engine, and a stream of swearing tumbled from the half-breed's mouth not far behind it.
She rubbed at her russet skull before turning to face him. "Dammit! What're you doing sneaking about?"
"Sorry," he replied, waving his hands apologetically. "I heard a noise and came to check it out. I thought maybe there was a burglar or something."
She rubbed at her neck, no doubt stiffened by leaning over the car for an extended period of time, and for a brief moment Eric considered offering to massage it for her. He quickly decided against it, unsure of how she'd interpret the offer. Instead he let his eyes wander, appreciating the shape of her body that had previously been covered by work clothes, now only barely hidden underneath the black panties and a simple white tank top. He could also fully make out her markings now, the odd leopard spots extending from her knees and elbows outward, whereas the rest of her maintained a distinctly fox-like red.
"Right, how chivalrous of you," she mocked, teasing him with another of her alluring smiles. "You were going to defend the place in nothing but boxers and a tee shirt?"
He checked himself, confirming that he was in fact just as underdressed as she was. He laughed nervously. "Yeah, well, I didn't think about that."
Shelby smirked and went back to her work.
The buck cleared his throat before continuing. "So what're you doing up so late?" He noted the clock on the wall proudly proclaimed in red, digital numbers, 2:31.
The fox fished around in the engine compartment, grasping for the tool she'd dropped. "I find it hard to sleep sometimes," she grunted as she leaned over the side of the car on tip-toes. "This is how I amuse myself."
He approached slowly, checking out the muscle car she was working on. It was half-covered by a tarp and painted only in what could be described as "primer grey," but he could still make out what it was, and a low whistle escaped his lips. He at least felt a little more comfortable talking about classic cars than motorcycles. "Classic Mustang? Nice."
She stood upright again, triumphant in the retrieval of her ratchet, but she kept her back to him. "Yeah, a '68 to be precise. I've been slowly putting it together from parts over the past few years. Maybe one day I'll actually get to drive it."
"This the 350?"
She turned her head slightly and gave him an insulted glare. "Oh, please. Like I'd settle for anything other than the 500."
He held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture and grinned, appreciating her taste in automobiles. "I beg your pardon! It's quite a machine, though; I'm impressed you've built it all by yourself."
The mechanic chuckled and turned her back to him again. "I think you'll find I'm pretty resourceful. I must've hit every scrap yard from here to Mississippi trying to find the pieces I need. Anyways, since you're down here, why don't you make yourself useful and hold the light for me?"
"Sure," he agreed and grabbed a flashlight that was sitting idle on the radiator. He pointed it towards her paws, not sure of what exactly he was supposed to be illuminating. On the other paw, it did give him a nice, clear view of her slender fingers and the exotic rosettes that covered her forearms.
To his surprise, rather than give him verbal direction, she grabbed him by the wrist and pulled both him and the flashlight towards her. "No, you're gonna have to stand behind me and shine it over my shoulder, like this."
He nodded nervously as she put him into position, directing the light over her shoulder and down into the engine compartment. Eric was tall, but he still had to press up against her to get enough reach to hold the light at the right angle. He felt himself starting to sweat a little as her buttocks and tail brushed against his hips, and silently he pleaded with his body not to betray him and pop a boner.
Shelby seemed not to notice his unease as she set to ratcheting bolts down. As before, her tail started to swish as she concentrated on what she was doing. That she was rubbing back and forth against Eric's groin, she didn't notice or care. The young buck bit his lip and rolled his eyes around the room, and he tried to think of anything other than the attractive female within inches of him.
"Hold it steady," she admonished, jerking him bodily back into place. Pulling like she did, it forced his hips up against her buttocks, her bushy tail providing only a minimal buffer between them. Eric thought for sure she'd turn around and slap him for it, but she stayed focused on her work.
After a few more repetitions with her ratchet, the vixen sighed and turned to face him. He backed up a step, somewhat relieved. "Well, I've determined one thing." His voice cracked a little. "Wh-what's that?"
"You are completely useless," she teased and took the flashlight away from him. She grinned at him for a brief moment, but then her eyes fell and the corners of her mouth turned upward, partly from amusement and partly from surprise.
Eric was confused. "What's wrong?"
She put a paw to her muzzle to stifle a giggle. "Really?"
The buck looked down to where she was staring, and to his horror, his manhood, slender and pink, poked its way out of the top of his boxers. His earlier fear was confirmed, and now he had a completely inappropriate erection, or at least he assumed it was inappropriate, as such things would be in polite company. He turned away and tried to adjust his clothes to cover it a bit better.
"Yeesh, sorry about that," he apologized, unsure of how to explain himself.
Shelby set her tools aside and grabbed him by the collar of his undershirt, turning him back towards her. Her aggression knocked Eric completely off-guard, and so he just stared at her like the proverbial deer in the headlights.
She smiled, all wicked and fanged. "Where are my manners! It would be rude of me not to extend some... ah, hospitality, so to speak. You wanna play?"
He wasn't sure what the right answer was in this situation. He wasn't sure whether or not she was serious. He wasn't sure if she was trying to get a rise out of him. But with God as his witness, he was sure he wanted to play, whatever that might entail. He nodded stupidly.
The expression on her face was one of genuine excitement. She reached up and grabbed him by the back of his neck, forcing their lips together into a tight, ferocious kiss. Or rather it was ferocious on her side and more fumbling on his as he tried to keep up with her. Some primordial alarm went off in the back of Eric's mind as he realized that he was in the grasp of a predator, but by then it was far too late to escape.
Shelby reached back and slammed the hood of the Mustang shut, then hopped up onto it. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close, a low growl rumbling in her throat as she kissed him again and again. Eric went along with it, running his hands up her back and under her tank top, caressing her back with amorous touch, sliding his fingers through her fur. He shut his eyes tight and let her lead him, and he met her tongue with his as he lost his senses. Touch, taste, and smell all mingled together in a cacophony of sloppy groping and kissing. He loved the very feel of her against his body; her breasts pushed against his chest, and her pelvis locked against him. He yearned to feel more of her. He pushed her back against the hood of the car, and she appreciated his assertiveness with a warm, playful smile. Shelby wasn't about to be dominated on his terms, though. She threw her legs up over his shoulders and pulled his face down toward her groin. Eric took an appreciative whiff of her femininity and let his tongue drag across the moistness that soaked through her panties, sending a shiver up her spine.
"Oh, you make a wonderful pet. Make me come," she commanded.
Eric raised his green eyes to meet hers, and he saw in her face a determination to stay in control of the situation. He wasn't certain what was so important about it, but he was perfectly willing to oblige her. Dutifully he slid her panties down to her knees. Shelby helped a little and kicked them off the rest of the way, flinging them to a far corner of the garage. The stag leaned down and breathed heavy puffs of hot air on her yoni; the vixen trembled slightly under his hands.
The first lap of her wetness tasted like sweet ambrosia to Eric, and it covered the tip of his nose in warm, moist love. Spicy, sensual scents filled his nostrils, and he enjoyed just inhaling the very essence of her. Shelby twitched at the movement of his tongue, a rolling ecstasy that contorted her body in response to his attentions. He slid his tongue up and down her dripping slit, losing his face in the downy white fur lining the inside of her thighs. He wrapped his mouth around her clitoris, drawing every gasp from her in electric detail. Eric was certain she would scream with orgasm soon. He buried his snout deeper into her, lapping faster at her swollen pearl. Just when he thought he was going to elicit a resounding climax from her, though, she suddenly pushed him away with her feet.
The stag was confused. "Huh? Did I do something wrong?"
She grinned and slid down the side of the car to a standing position. "Nope. I just wasn't ready yet."
They stood staring at each other in the garage, locked in each others' gazes like predator and prey. For some reason, Eric really wanted to bolt at the moment, but he forced himself to stand his ground and stare down the wily vixen's fanged smile. She moved her body more like a snake than a fox or a leopard, enjoying the fact that she had his rapt attention.
She reached down and ran a single claw through her wetness, then brought it to her lips. "You want something from me?"
Eric swallowed hard. "You're crazy, you know that?"
Shelby cackled. "But you love the crazy! If you want me, come and take me!"
He wasn't exactly sure what she meant by that challenge, but he wasn't about to let her intimidate him again. He lunged forward and grabbed her headfur from behind, pulling hard. He didn't even know why he did it; it just felt right at the time.
Shelby gasped and followed his lead, buckling at the knees. "That's more like it," she breathed.
Instilled with confidence, Eric pulled her up to him and swung her round so that she was facing the hood of the car. He pushed her forward until she was face down in the cold metal, not too roughly though, and he ground his swollen manhood up against her buttocks. The black silk of his boxers soaked up her wetness. She pawed at the steel beneath her and lifted her tail, groaning with pleasure.
He'd never felt so powerful before, and Shelby's reactions emboldened him. "You like it rough, huh?"
She turned her head slightly so she could look up at him. "You could say that. Now fuck me like you mean it."
The stag didn't need to be told twice. He pulled his shorts down and let them fall to the ground, and without hesitation he slid himself into Shelby. She let out a grunt of pleasure and pushed herself backward, desperately wanting to take all of him. Eric wasn't sure what to think, but then again conscious thought was all but abandoned at that point; he let his instincts take over as he rammed his solid pelvis into her soft buttocks.
He held onto her headfur with his left hand and grabbed her tail with his right, admiring the bushy fox-like appendage with its strange rosettes and tawny fur. Shelby seemed to enjoy having her fur and tail pulled, and so he felt no reservation in using both as leverage to slam his cock deep into her. She grunted with ecstasy every time, and he pushed harder and faster. Her wetness made a soft squelch each time he pounded her. Shelby tried to rise up a little from the hood, but Eric pushed her back down forcefully, and she gasped with delight at his strength.
Eric was starting to lose control of his body, climax rapidly approaching. He relaxed his grip on her headfur and wrapped his hand around Shelby's paw. He was surprised when she squeezed it in return and gave him a smile that seemed genuine and heartfelt. His heart pounded in his chest in time with his cock slamming into the prone vixen, but she seemed utterly calm. She laid across the hood of her Mustang, letting him do his thing, no longer resisting. Despite the moment, she seemed detached and distant from him. So he stopped.
Shelby looked up at him, concerned. "Something wrong?"
Eric puffed for a moment before pulling free of her. "You're not enjoying it."
She rotated around to face him, leaning back on the car. "Of course I am. Why would you say that?"
He shook his head, his majestic antlers overemphasizing the gesture. "You asked me to make you come, but you won't let me."
The vixen closed her eyes tight, an expression of remorse crossing her face. "Eric, I-"
He put a finger to her lips, shushing her. She opened her eyes again and looked into his, searching, inquisitive. There was something there that he couldn't quite place, a hidden pain that eluded him every time he tried to look deeper.
The stag let out a long, low breath. "This isn't the place. C'mon."
Shelby was confused for a moment, but then he stooped down and grabbed her around the waist, picking her up into his arms. She wasn't sure what he was about, but she decided to play along. Slowly, carefully, he carried her up the stairs to her apartment, making doubly sure not to bonk her head on anything, as he was certain that was the kind of buffoon move he would make. He crept down the hallway in the dark and carried her into her room. The stag dropped her down on her unmade bed, an old mattress that laid on the floor. She looked slightly bemused as he laid down next to her.
He reached up and stroked the fur on her face. "Now, before it was just fucking. Here we can make love."
"Eric, seriously? This is"-she had to pause for a moment as he pulled her last bit of inadequate clothing up over head-"This is ridiculous. I don't-"
The stag didn't let her finish. He leaned down and pushed his mouth into hers, silencing her with a deep kiss that she was sure would suffocate her. She didn't care; her protests were forgotten, and if she died right then and there, she would have died happy.
Shelby found her strength again and grabbed at his own undershirt and tugged it upwards eagerly. She giggled a bit when it got caught on his antlers, and while he untangled himself, she took advantage of the situation and ran her paws along his broad chest, admiring the muscles underneath his tan fur. Once free of the shirt, he gave her a wry smirk before setting upon her again with such ferocious, biting kisses that she would've thought he was the predator. She was content to let him take the lead.
Eric grabbed her by the buttocks and lifted her up off the bed, sliding himself into her again. The vixen relaxed into his grasp, letting her legs go limp. She reached up and grabbed him by the antlers. It was a little awkward to have her holding on to them, but after a moment he adjusted to her weight pulling his head down. He pushed himself into her in a rolling wave, his pelvis moving like the prow of a boat. Her breaths came in spasm, and Eric smiled to himself, realizing that she was finally letting the wall she'd built up around herself slip away.
"Now," he whispered in her ear. It twitched madly and tickled his nose. "I want you to come for me."
She nodded slowly, raspy breaths escaping her lips as he drove himself deep into her. As he slid his cock in and out, in and out, her breaths became a repetition of moans. Her chocolate eyes stared deep into his, half-closed and distant, but this time the distance was from the overwhelming pleasure she was feeling rather than a genuine detachment. Though he could still see the pain in her eyes, it was mixed with relief. He dragged his tongue across her muzzle in a reassuring gesture, and she smiled at him.
Shelby wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him into her, taking as much of his manhood as she possibly could. Its girth hurt just a little, but it was a good kind of pain that felt like burning euphoria to her. She didn't want to feel vulnerable, but at the same time she yearned to do as he asked. She wanted so very badly to come, and she didn't want to be in control for once. She wanted him to bring her to climax in a way that surprised her and forced her to lose herself in the moment.
The young buck ran one of his hands over her breasts, marveling at their fullness. His other hand supported her back as she arched it toward him, and for a brief moment it felt as if he had lifted her completely from the bed. Her eyes widened, and in that moment he felt her coming, a great storm of pleasure that rumbled through her body. He could see it in her eyes, the pupils that dilated and sparkled like diamonds. As she rose to meet him, he pressed his lips against hers, purposefully taking her scream of orgasm into his mouth so as not to rouse her son in the next room. In return, he finally let go of his own pleasure that he'd held back, allowing the brilliance of his orgasm to fill her. He felt it in his arms and legs, down to his fingers and hooves, a rapture that flowed over him like water winding down the side of a mountain. For the briefest of moments, there was utter silence in the room as their bodies stiffened with pleasure and their howls of excitement disappeared down each others' throats.
With a resounding thud, they both collapsed upon the bed, tangled in one another. Shelby panted heavily and clawed at Eric's chest, leaving little red marks on the skin beneath his fur. The young buck wrapped his arms around her and held her close, enjoying the heat of her body against his. The only sounds that echoed in the room were their heavy breaths. Eric felt like he wanted to say something, but he couldn't quite form words that did the moment justice, so instead he just laid there, content with what he had. Shelby's eyes welled up with tears, but he wasn't quite sure if she was upset or overjoyed. He didn't feel it would be proper to ask, so instead he just watched her quietly until her eyelids closed and she drifted off to sleep.
*****
The sun poured on Eric's face like a pitcher of golden fleas. He could've done just as well to have a few more hours of night so he could roll over and go back to sleep. Still, it couldn't be all that bad; he reached for Shelby and tried to pull her towards him, but then he realized that she wasn't there.
He sat upright, still naked and sitting on the dirty mattress. He looked around but there was no sign of the vixen. The sun creeped in through the cracks in the dusty blinds, and judging by its height in the sky, Eric guessed that it was mid-morning. He'd slept in late, but then again he'd stayed up all night, so that was to be expected. How many times had they made love? Three, maybe four times? Shelby was insatiable, waking him up every hour or so to start their lovemaking anew. Each time she had pounced upon him with such hunger and voracity that he wasn't sure if he'd be able to satisfy her. But every time she'd gone back to sleep with a smile on her face.
The stag stretched his legs and kicked off the sheets. He was a bit sore, but he'd recover. He wondered if he'd have to sneak downstairs to recover his boxers, but then he noticed that all of his clothes had been laid out for him next to the bed. At least Shelby was kind enough to let him dress with dignity. He pushed himself off the bed and donned his boxers, his undershirt, his jeans, and his button-up shirt. They were slightly disheveled, but they would look that way from a long motorcycle ride anyways.
Eric wandered out into the living room. Carroll was sitting at the coffee table again, engrossed in some show on the television. A half-eaten Pop Tart lay on the table in front of him, and crumbs caught in his whiskers and fur.
"Hey, little guy," he greeted the kit.
Carroll's attention was ripped away from the TV momentarily as he focused on the buck. He didn't say anything in return.
Eric cocked his head to one side and grinned. "What, cat got your tongue?"
The kit wiped at his nose with a tiny balled fist. "Mommy says I ain't s'posed to talk to strangers."
The stag knelt down across the table from the child. "Well, that's a good piece of advice. But I'm not so strange, am I? Your mom let me stay here. We're friends."
"Lotsa mommy's friends stay here. She still says not to talk to 'em."
Eric was momentarily shocked. He supposed that he shouldn't be surprised that he was just one in a long line of many, but hearing it from Carroll's mouth somehow made it all that much more disturbing. He stood up again, deciding he didn't really want to follow where that conversation was going.
"Uh, yeah... your mom, is she downstairs already?"
Carroll nodded affirmatively.
"Thanks," the buck replied quietly.
He trundled down the stairs into the garage, and sure enough the vixen was already hard at work on his bike. Shelby barely acknowledged him as she continued to make adjustments to the clutch lever of the motorcycle.
Eric scratched his head thoughtfully, trying to think of something to say. "Cary's a good kid."
She gave him a look that he couldn't quite decipher, but he decided it must be annoyance. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The buck suddenly wished he hadn't brought the subject up. "Ah, never mind. We were just talking is all."
The vixen sighed heavily and tried to focus on repairing the bike. "I take it he said something... about me?"
Eric paced back and forth, not sure if he really wanted to talk about it. "Look, it's no big deal. What you do here is none of my business."
She tightened the clutch lever with such force that her ratchet protested loudly. "Damn right it's none of your business."
Shelby finally finished her work and stood up, wiping her paws off onto her coveralls. Eric stood silently for a moment, wondering what he should do. After a brief hesitation, he attempted to move forward and embrace her, but she deftly maneuvered out of his grasp before he could get a hold of her.
He stood in the middle of the garage, regarding her with awkward eyes. "So... I guess that was a one time thing, then?"
She tried to look busy arranging some tools on a workbench and avoided his eyes. "I have enough baggage, Eric. I don't need more. People come here, they get what they need, and they leave."
He nodded. "So, I guess I'll pay you and be on my way then. What do I owe you?"
The vixen winced; she wasn't quite sure if he meant he was paying her for the bike or for her companionship, and she didn't really want to know. "One-fifty, parts and labor."
Eric fumbled through his wallet and pulled out one of his cards. Shelby finally looked at him for the first time and gave him a weak smile.
"Sorry," she said. "I don't take plastic, just cash."
The young buck put the card back in his wallet and felt quite ashamed. "Well, shit. I don't have any cash on me. Is there an ATM nearby?"
Shelby chuckled. "Don't worry about it. You can pay me back next time you're out this way visiting family."
There was a long, awkward silence as they both stood in the garage, Eric's bike between them. The stag spoke first. "So, I guess I'll be on my way. Thanks for all your help, Shelby. And your hospitality."
There was something biting in his last remark that made her cringe. She turned away from him as he mounted his motorcycle and started it. The rev of the engine echoed around the garage and drowned out her thoughts as well as any further attempt at speaking. Eric put the bike into gear and coasted down the driveway towards the road, kicking up gravel as he did so.
He didn't make it very far. Eric was never the most assertive person in the world, but at the same time he wasn't about to just drive away and forget the little garage that fate had dropped him off at or the woman that had touched his heart. He killed the engine at the bottom of the driveway and dismounted. He stomped his way through the gravel back to Shelby.
She looked up at him, her eyes wet with tears that threatened to spill out at any moment. Eric cradled her face in his hands, looking deeply into her brown eyes once again. The vixen stared back up at him, a mixture of fear and admiration on her face.
"Whatever you're about to say," she whispered. "Don't you dare fuckin' lie to me."
He smiled briefly and sighed. "Shelby... honey, all I was gonna say is... I'll see you next week. And that's not a lie."
Her mouth moved a couple times as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Eric spared her by pressing his lips to hers, giving her a soft goodbye kiss before he tromped back down the driveway to his motorcycle. As he kicked it back into life, he gave her one more glance over his shoulder and winked. He would count the days until he could next see her.