The Maned Wolf (M/M) (Pt. 5 of "Under The Devil's Eye")
#5 of Under the Devil's Eye
"The Maned Wolf", Part Five of "Under the Devil's Eye"
by H. A. Kirsch (HawkWolf)
copyright 2006.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Hawk growled, staring at the intruding maned wolf, ears flat.
"Torturing your little vulpine friend, of course. Now fox, if you don't lose your very average clothes, your very not-average fox-dick might just suffer from my very poor knife skills..." The maned wolf reached down into a boot and drew out a dagger.
"Answer my fucking question! What are you doing in my house?"
"I told you to take off your clothes, fox. Or is my foreign charm making you deaf?" Alzarre approached Hawk with the knife.
"Why the fuck are you telling me to take my clothes off? The fox is right there, you-" Hawk turned to point to the fox, but no one was standing at the end of his claw. He snapped back to Alzarre. "You fucking scared him off! I was going to fuck him!"
"No, I'm going to fuck him. That would be present tense, you know. Like now, fox?"
"Why are you calling me that?"
Hawk looked down. His hands were black, but the color ended around his elbows. The rest was ruddy fur.
Alzarre smiled. "Oh, no reason at all, Mr. Fox."
The maned wolf kept approaching with the knife.
Hawk snorted and kicked himself off the basement couch, a mostly-empty bottle of beer tipping over and foaming on the carpet. "Fuck! Fuck! God dammnit! Why can't a real fox fucking walk through my door! Why do I have to dream about this stupid shit!?" He was discovering what the morning after was like. The dream had been slightly upsetting, since parts of it had seemed unnaturally real, stretches of being at his job, roaring through the countryside, even talking to his mother on the phone.
Growling, the wolf stalked to the cleaning supplies closet and got out his little carpet cleaner. "What the fuck time is it, anyway? Fucking slept all day.." He muttered, the sound drowned out by a loud whir as he cleaned up the mess. After a couple minutes of scrubbing and fussing, the carpet looked good as new, if not damp. He stood up, grumpily proud. "I do a bunch of coke, I end up crashed all day, but at least I can clean the damn carpet." Putting the cleaner back, he answered his own question - 5pm, the day after he fucked the fox in someone else's broken home.
The moment of domestic bliss ended as the wolf caught a scent. It was a bizzare smell, a combination of fur, rank musk, leather, and a particularly vile drug-scent he couldn't place. Beer bottle in hand, Hawk slowly stalked up the stairs. He paced through the kitchen, down the hallway to the living room, past the bathroom, on to the master bedroom.
The smell was worst there, mixed with damp from the shower. He checked the bed, then under the bed, then inside the closet - nothing. Someone was in the house, but they weren't wherever Hawk had been.
"You know, for a stalking, glaring predator, you really aren't very good at finding people."
Hawk's hackles stuck out and he whirled around. There was a big shock of red in the doorway, and he lept for it, hands grabbing the shoulders, pounding the maned wolf known as Alzarre to the hardwood with a bang. The wolf could have said something, but all he did was hurl the beer bottle across the room and crack the faux-fox across the jaw on the way back. "What the hell are you doing here!"
"Oww!"
"All you have to say for that is 'oww'? If you don't have anything good to say, don't say anything!" Hawk pistoned his elbow back and went to drive his fist straight down through Alzarre's face. It slapped into a gloved paw instead.
"I never have anything good to say. I'm a naughty wolf. Now get off of me, unless you plan on ramming me with something other than that fist of yours."
"No. What are you doing in my house?"
"Well," Alzarre looked over to the side, squirming and shifting under the wolf, grabbing at black shoulders. "Oh, you smell nice."
"Answer the fucking question!" the wolf barked, with enough of a snap that flecks of spit came out as he clacked his jaw and made the maned wolf squint.'
"I thought I'd come visit, you know. Have a little look at you in slightly better light...."
Hawk got up off the floor, grabbing Alzarre's arms. He spun the creature around and pinned him over against the bed.
"Don't think for one second that I'm going to play rough with you right now. I'm just playing nasty. You fucking broke into my house so you could stalk around while I was passed out, didn't you?"
"I suppose you could say that. I wasn't really stalking. With my boots off, I don't make very much noise, and I only ate your leftover takeout." Alzarre didn't struggle, even shifting his shoulders to make it easier for Hawk to pin the wrists together.
"How'd you know where I live?" Hawk narrowed his eyes.
"You do have a driver's license, Mr. Wolf." Alzarre squirmed, pushing more of his lanky self up onto the bed.
Hawk let his grip up a bit when he realized the wolf was naked. "You stole my driver's license?"
"No, I merely slipped it out of your beautiful leather pants when you left them crumpled in a heap on the floor. It's in your wallet, on top of the dresser."
"I don't believe you." Hawk spat.
"Let me go and see for yourself."
"No."
"Don't be an ass. Let me be the ass for you." Alzarre growled lustfully, levering himself up and down against Hawk, slender but shapely thighs and rump teasing the black wolf's groin. "Oh my. Someone's enjoying being a grouch!"
"God dammnit!" Hawk snorted, standing up. His ears flushed inside, boxer shorts tented with his cock. He whirled and punched the dresser, then snatched up his wallet. He counted through all of his bills. "Money's all there." He flipped through cards. "Picture of mom's still there." Then, the license. Tucked right where it belonged. "Fuck you. Get out."
"My turn! No." Alzarre shifted and slinked his body up onto the bed, a narrow black forefoot still down on the ground. He stretched, showing off his whole glory, half hard and taking a curve down over to lay on his thigh. "I thought you might like to, you know, spend some time together. Get to know each other a little. You're very enigmatic, you know."
Hawk rolled his eyes and slapped the wallet back down. "Tell me something I don't know. For example. What's your real name?"
"Hmmph. Tell me your name first."
"I already told you once, jackass. It's Harold."
Alzarre rolled around on the bed like a cat, draping himself over a pillow, squirming and writhing. "Well, mine really is Alzarre. Alzarre Mariangeles Morinelo. I happen to be from Argentina."
Hawk gave up and started walking out of the bedroom. "Really. Prove it. Show me your ID."
"I don't have a driver's license, you know. And it's hard to show you when you're walking away."
"So fucking follow me, you already followed me home." Hawk padded into the kitchen and hauled a jug of something brownish-green, pouring a glass of it. Alzarre slinked in, carrying something. The wolf flicked it through the air at Hawk, who snatched it up.
"So picky."
Hawk looked it over. It was a state-issued ID, bearing the name Alzarre had given him, complete with a rather unflattering picture of the maned wolf. He looked like a hair metal singer who'd gotten out of bed three minutes earlier. "I bet it's fake."
"Now does it really matter if I make up a name and go as it in all circumstances?" Alzarre smirked, and leaned in to sniff the glass before Hawk downed a gulp. "Oh! You terrible thing!" Alzarre's ears perked straight up.
"Jesus christ, do you have to complain about everything?"
"You're quite the one to talk, Mr. Wolf. Now, my anger is directed towards this abomination you probably are calling tea." Alzarre normally spoke with an overblown, slightly british accent, but his voice turned animated and laden with rolling Rs. Very Spanish. Hawk grunted.
"Now he complains about my fucking tea! Once again, get out of my house." Hawk downed the rest of the glass and stuck the glass into the sink.
"You drink mate like it is water! And I bet it is, all... why are you looking at me like that?"
Hawk was smiling with exactly half of his muzzle. "I wonder why you don't get laid, Al." He stalked off towards his bedroom.
"Do not call me that! It's unflattering." Alzarre stalked after. One benefit to being enormously leggy was that he couldn't scurry, which helped prevent him from being a pipsqueak in Hawk's eyes. "Al is the sort of person who eats donuts and beer. Alzarre-" The wolf rolled the word out of his mouth, "Is maybe the name of, perhaps a lover?"
Hawk shut the door. "If you aren't going to get out of my god-dammned house, get out of my bedroom! I want to sleep. I was asleep, then I had a dream. Do you know what was in my dream? You. You were berating me, while I was trying to fuck that fox I met last night." The black wolf was glad his dreams were in his head, so Alzarre didn't have to know the wolf actually was the fox.
Silence. Hawk groaned and dropped into his bed, rolling over to face the closet. Despite the infusion of iced yerba mate, he sweated from his muzzle, kicking off his shirt, then his boxers. Hawk hated being hungover, and hated the crash-down black cloud over his head more. He hid it with his usual stoicism but the world looked a drab gray.
Possibly fifteen minutes passed, and the wolf went from being bleak to anxious. There were two possibilities: Alzarre had left, or he hadn't. Which was worse?
"You're leaning on my door." Nothing. "I said-"
"Mmm, how did you know?"
"Because you smell. I don't even know what you smell like, but it's as foul as any fox."
"I think if you weren't so quick to throw me out of your house, which you are not very good at doing, you would see that I share the benefits of a fox with none of the, say, aftertaste."
"Why are you leaning on my door, Al? I told you to leave."
"Well, you know, you make for wonderful company. And, my clothes are underneath your bed."
Hawk sucked in a long breath, then let it sigh back out. "I didn't lock my door."
The door clicked open and the maned wolf crept in, closing it again before padding across the hard floor. He sauntered over to the bed, bending down and drawing out a long duffel bag. Despite the animosity that Hawk felt almost compelled to have towards the maned wolf, he admitted to himself that Alzarre was graceful in his own way. Even when blasted, he could strut without falling over himself - Hawk just blundered and stomped around.
"Your floor is so hard and cold on the feet, Mr. Wolf. If this were my room, I would have pillows lining the floor, like for a harem."
"I don't have a harem." Hawk rolled over so he didn't have to look at Alzarre, who in his nakedness was starting to look enticingly foxish.
"I know what it is," Alzarre said, pausing on one knee, before moving towards the bed with a slow creep. "I bet you keep such a hard floor so it sounds more impressive when you clomp across it in your boots."
Hawk's ears turned red, a growl boiling up in his throat, then dying back. "Weren't you getting your clothes?"
"I have an idea. How about... I get dressed in here, and you go downstairs, and get dressed. Just how I'm sure you like to. And then we'll see if the poor guara will have to leave after all." Alzarre stood with paw at hip, a startlingly effeminate pose. The maned wolf didn't have any actual feminine traits, but the way he held his body was pure, calculated burlesque sleaze. It tickled somewhere inside Hawk, the wolf starting to grow an erection.
Hawk growled again. "Fine."
The black wolf's ears were still burning by the time he reached the bottom of the basement steps. Alzarre was turning him on, pressing his buttons. Different buttons, not the fox buttons, not the mean buttons, just buttons he didn't know he had. 'Just how I'm sure you like to.' What did that mean?
Hawk looked over at the wardrobe. He remembered when it used to be in his uncle's musty bedroom, when he'd visit as a kid. It was an imposing and respectable piece of furniture. Now, it held the wolf's fetish.
So, he thought to himself, you want me to do myself up for you. Did Alzarre deserve spikes and straps, a big rough time? A crass, gruff biker wolf? Hawk didn't feel like trying to put on his newfound jackass air. He would fight fire with fire.
When he had dressed up to visit the club the night before, Hawk had felt his normally sour attitude focus into a kind of exhilarated, stoic sexual rage. Donning his finest the evening after, he was instead slowly consumed with a dark smolder, his wolfhood perennially half-hard as he closed it up inside his black leather dress pants. Slowly, his attitude was changing from contempt at the unwelcome intruder, to snarling anticipation.
Not to mention, slowly making his way upstairs again, that the maned wolf was right. Each footfall brought a hollow clunk of boot heel, the slight rattle of decorative ankle chain, the scrape of the sole. Hawk's normal brusque stomp was turned into a slow, predatory stalk as he mounted the top of the stairs into his kitchen.
The bedroom was again empty, Hawk narrowing his eyes as he stepped in. It was also dark. "You're in here somewhere. If you're hiding under the bed-"
Hawk turned to make sure the maned wolf wasn't sneaking up on him from outside again, and felt breath at his neck. "Mmm, I was in the closet. You know, to surprise you."
The wolf's skin prickled, shoulders lifting. "It didn't work. Now turn on the lights, so you can't try anything stupid."
The room flooded with red glow. "Mood lighting, Mr. Wolf?"
"I take naps a lot, it keeps me from sleeping too-"
"Oh my."
Can you stop saying that, Hawk thought. He turned around to see Alzarre staring wide-eyed at him.
Hawk was wearing a black leather dress blazer that his uncle had gotten him for a graduation present. 'What do you want for when you get out of school, Hankie?' 'I don't know.' 'Think of something! You ain't gettin' cash.' Hawk thought of something.
He had no shirt on, and the blazer wasn't buttoned up. On his bony hands were a pair of dress gloves, unlined and sleek leather that clung-fit to his fingers. He had on a pair of leather jeans, heavy and expensive black hide bought with his own money to match the coat, wolfhood making a serious bulge in the front. A broad, black-alligator belt with a rectangular chromed buckle held them up. On his feet, up inside the boots, were a pair of smooth, plain black cowboy boots, boot chain around the ankle, subdued black toe and heel rands glinting red.
"You're so... black."
Hawk flexed his fingers, creaks of leather drowned out by the crack of his knuckles. It was a trick he'd taught himself in tae kwon do as a kid. "No shit."
"So dark... and handsome." Alzarre stepped up forward, fingers stroking the wolf's lapels, straightening the coat. "So dangerous. You look like you should be killing people for sport."
"Maybe I am. Maybe that's how I afford this stuff. Maybe that's why I didn't tell you to leave." When Hawk said this, the maned wolf's ears tilted in mock fear.
Alzarre was dressed quite differently. He had no shirt at all, instead only a red ornate leather vest, smooth hide chained up the side in biker style, but the look was far more renaissance. The guara's hands were clad in a pair of black fingerless gloves, the wolf using them to his own advantage as he stroked and caressed Hawk's leathers. He had on a pair of red leather pants, form-fitted, held up by two belts, one through the loops and the other worn like a gunbelt. The pants hugged Alzarre's legs down into a pair of knee-high swashbuckler boots, almost a three inch heel in back, sharp square toe and a buckled ankle strap. The top cuff of the boots folded down, and the leather inside was reddish.
"Don't talk like that, Mr. Wolf. Kiss me."
"No."
Alzarre's fingers stroked up the lapels, around the collar of the wolf's coat, sliding behind his head. "Please?"
Hawk snapped at the maned wolf's snout, Alzarre recoiling for a moment, the jaw open. Hawk surged forward, grabbing Alzarre's arms and hefting them up, his teeth clacking against the maned wolf's as his tongue slapped inside. Their bodies pressed together, Alzarre draping himself against Hawk, knees bending to even their height. The guara moaned and shivered, tongue caressing and twirling, left and right, slipping inside along Hawk's. Suddenly, it was simply hanging out in air.
"What?"
Hawk grabbed up a pawful of black-tipped red brush mane and yanked, Alzarre stiffening with a huff. "You don't belong here in front of me like that. You belong there." A black, leather-wrapped finger pointed for the floor.
"Yes, Mr. Wolf," Alzarre breathed, sinking down to his knees. Hawk stepped behind him, grasping at the wrists and lifting Alzarre's arms, tilting the guara down and forcing a boot forward until the snout was near Hawk's silver-capped toe.
Hawk started feeling darkness creep around his heart, his body no longer an obvious thing, just feeling the inside of all of his gear, the heft of the leather covering his body. The only self feeling left was his cock, begging to be let out of his pants, making his muzzle twist into a snarling grin.
Alzarre clutched at Hawk's leg, then around the heel of the boot, nosing and probing at the leather, a tongue washing out over it with a soft rrrrr, his leather clad rump raised lewd to the side of Hawk's leg. "Look up, you slut. Look at what you're doing for me."
They were standing in front of the mirror, Alzarre's tall ears flattening somewhat as he did as ordered. "Oh, Hawk, your boots deserve the long, soft tongue caress of a lover like mine."
Blood boiled up into Hawk's head, his skin burning under the fur. No one, not even that fox, had said anything like that. It went straight in so deep that the feeling actually passed him by, and all he could do was notice that a zipper ran up the back of the guara's pants. "You didn't buy that shit at a garage sale. Liar."
"It's true, I let filth fall from my teeth as words, I had them made, custom, and they just arrived days ago. You were right, the tights were terrible, and now, what do you think?"
Hawk traced a gloved finger up along the boot-worshipping creature's rump, then gave a hard swat. Alzarre jumped, but didn't cease his worshipping. Hawk looked in the mirror, the creature like a fox there, just like the foxes he'd met before. Inside, he knew it wasn't true, like Alzarre was a lie himself. The black finger hooked a claw into the zipper, just in time for Alzarre to pull away from it.
"No, please, Mr. Wolf. Let me show you what I want to do with you first. You are so glorious, so gorgeous..." Alzarre was now facing Hawk's leg, muzzle drawing up to stroke across the hide covering the shaft of the boot, bare fingerpads following. The way he teased and stroked his way up Hawk's leg, he could have been teasing the wolf's cock.
"Fine." The word was snorted, Hawk standing with his paws holding the open edge of his coat on either side. He leaned against his own dresser, careful to make sure he could still see everything in the mirror, the action framed in dull red. "But you aren't getting there because you stroke my ego." My turn to lie, Hawk thought to himself.
"First," Alzarre hissed, his half-gloved paws stroking up the black wolf's thighs, spreading out over the leather, gently hooking onto the belt to pull himself upwards, letting the top of his muzzle drag along the inside of the thigh, "I am going to make sure you are very hard, and very wet. And then your claws can take me apart back there and give a terrible thing like me what he deserves."
To that end, Alzarre's fingers stroked along the bulging fly of the wolf's pants, cradling the bulge of the twin orbs as other claws gently worked the buttons open. Hawk's gaze was a persistent stare, down his snout at the maned wolf as Alzarre took care in his work. Nothing happened immediately as the fly opened, black fingers moving in to tug out the shaft, and Hawk spilled out onto Alzarre's snout.
"You're such a big, black wolf," he whispered, his slender muzzle giving a stroke to the black shaft, before bare fingers slid over the foreskin, tracing the hood down over the head, then gently slid it back. Hawk growled, the length throbbing, the black glans already slimy. "I know everyone already tells you... they have to, it's so unusual. Such a dark tool of your sex, hmm?" The maned wolf's muzzle parted after he spoke, pink tongue unfurling around the head as his fingers tugged the foreskin completely back, grasping the wolfhood by the base to strain the head. "Oh, you haven't washed since yesterday... nasty wolf," he whined, but only let his tongue wash over more of the musky length.
"Yeah, it smells like fox, doesn't it? Both ends of a fox. You gave that particular fox a sore asshole, I bet. It's going to be your turn to be sore."
Alzarre didn't answer, only cranking his muzzle open and pushing forward, coughing as Hawk's cockhead popped into his throat. Bare fingers curled around the wolf's balls.
"You asshole, don't do that, you'll make me come," Hawk snarled, and grabbed Alzarre's mane again. "Look at this, it's like grabbing a bitch's hair. Get over there on the bed. You want to get fucked, you're getting fucked." He pulled hard, hauling Alzarre up with a squall from the maned wolf, throwing him backwards.
"Noooo, I want you to shoot into my mouth, I want to taste you first! I know you have enough-"
The maned wolf was on his side, about to turn around when Hawk lurched forward, one knee onto the bed, glove leather clapping against vest hide. "Shut up!" He used his own muzzle to whack Alzarre in the back of the head, biting into the mane. His thighs trapped the guara's legs, forcing the maned wolf against the corner of the bed. A black claw yanked the back zipper down. "I'm going to do it in your asshole. That's what you really want, isn't it?"
Alzarre fought and grabbed at a pillow, but not to clutch it - he darted a paw under it and grabbed something. A small vial, that he dumped out onto the fabric. The oranges-and-paint-thinner stench of poppers filled the room, Alzarre burying his nose into the wet splotch, sucking in a huge breath.
Hawk thought about testing the waters with his finger, but the way he had Alzarre, his cock was drooling down onto the guara's pucker, enough preseed that it ran down to the creature's balls. With a fist around his base, Hawk shoved the fat head up against the pucker. There was only resistance, then seconds later, a throb of heartbeat and the star opened for him. Alzarre's body lurched and strained upwards, Hawk slamming forward with a slap of leather on leather.
"Normally, I can't stand you," Hawk growled, letting his body come down along the maned wolf's back, muzzle next to the ear. "You are a pompous jackass, and no one wants to fuck around with you, it seems. Well, that means all the more for me, because I bet this asshole's never even been fucked." He drew his body back, the same numb burn through everywhere but his cock, then lurched forward again. Alzarre let out a yowl, more lust than probably pain.
"Mr. W-wolf, I'm your bitch tonight-"
"I said shut up!" Hawk reached up and pinned the guara's muzzle shut. That made the maned wolf's tailhole pinch closed, Hawk having to thrust harder. He worked long and slow at it, enough that his cock pushed through its own foreskin, actually dragging the head back and forth inside, the knob coming almost out, forcing in again. "I like you like this, don't have to listen to any of that shit coming out of your mouth like you're Don Fucking Juan, just enjoy what you have to get fucked in."
Despite huffing at the stain of poppers, Alzarre was tighter than Hawk thought possible. The maned wolf strained and felt like he was trying to fight away, Hawk instinctively upping the pace until he was ramming back and forth, heels clomping the floor as he tried to keep footing. The maned wolf wasn't fighting - he was grinding down against the sheets, each motion forcing his rump to squeeze tighter and tighter. Just a few more thrusts and Hawk's muzzle dropped open for a grunt, clacking shut as he snarled and huffed, beating his hips forward into the leather-clad rump before him, tail jerking behind him as his seed pumped out of his cock.
Hawk pulled out on accident and Alzarre immediately struggled free, lifting himself up and thumping down back-first onto pillows, frantically opening up his fly. The maned wolf was long, a good two inches longer than Hawk, the shaft pink and swollen and seemingly never quite hard. Alzarre beat it in his fist, teeth clenched.
The wolf reached up and clapped his paw around Alzarre's throat, forcing up against the jaw and punching the slender half-gloved paw away from the other wolf's cock. "You're going to make a mess, aren't you? You're going to get off. Too bad it wasn't with my dick up your ass."
Hawk curled his fingers around the fleshy wolfcock and started to pump - it was already slick, and just a few jerks later Alzarre arched and howled, then choked, seed pouring out of his cock. The second his body slumped back down, spent, Hawk let go and stood up.
"Well. Fuck." He turned his neck, cracking it.
Alzarre's paws were dripping with his own seed, the maned wolf looking dazed, like he'd just woken up and was unsure of where he was.
"Mr.... Hawk... I don't k-"
Hawk buttoned his fly back up. "Don't say anything, and get the fuck out of my house. I'm not going to say it again."
Alzarre narrowed his eyes. "Well, okay then." Without much fuss, the maned wolf got up and stalked into the kitchen, wiping himself up with a paper towel, then came back to the bedroom. He grabbed up his duffel and stalked out, Hawk leaning against his dresser the whole time.
When the door shut, Hawk's knees nearly went out, body collapsing to the bed. He didn't know whether to be angry, relieved, sickened, or immensely proud of himself.