FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

New home, new city, new life. _Should I have gotten a new name too?_Anders asked himself as he looked at the bare living room of his new apartment. He didn't exactly have the luxury to pack a U-Haul before this move outward, he'd lacked many a luxury over the past year. Anders dropped the two duffel bags he held, one on each, shoulder. Two dull thuds against the carpet as he locked the door behind him. Zipping open the first bag, there was nothing but clothes, whatever he could grab from the penthouse back in Chicago. Shirts, socks, jeans, all fairly stylish.

“Can't have my slave looking poor!” That voice rang back into his head, in that sickly sweet venom tone that had first drawn him into his web. Anders shuddered and closed the bag, feeling like he was about to vomit. He opened the other bag, which contained a blow up mattress, about ten-thousand dollars in cash, and the collar. This time he did vomit, Anders running to the bathroom just in time to deposit his sickness into the toilet. Why the hell did I bring that? One voice in his head rang out as he got up to wash his hand.

Because it's yours! You had it before all this, and you took it back!

Like how I took back Dad's Marines ring to pawn?

You didn't really have a choice, he wasn't about to let you into the account.

Fuck, I'm a thief, I stole twenty thousand dollars worth of jewelry from him!

I'm sure he's just distraught!_The voice in his head rang back, a different kind of venom in its voice than that of his former Master. It was the venom of a scared creature backed into a corner, frightened for its life. Anders finished washing up and went back to his two duffel bags, he shifted some of the money around to cover up the leather collar before pulling out the blow up mattress! It was a hasty purchase at a Wal-mart just at the Missouri boarder, something he realized he might need when he went in to get some energy drinks. _When was the last time I slept? It felt like forever ago when he left Preston's home in Chicago, in reality it was more like three days, three days of no sleep, just driving right towards the Arch. He'd need to buy a new cell phone soon, and groceries, find a new job. That one year employment gap isn't going to look good! Anders tried to clear out all these thoughts, just think about sleeping. He started to blow up the mattress, slowly watching the cheap rubber thing rise like bread in an oven. You're your own Master right now Anders!

He was yanked from his thoughts by a knock at the door, a somewhat loud and forceful one. “Open up, Police!” FUCK! Anders debated his escape options! One door in, one door out! There was the fire escape, but that would look bad. They can't pin shit on you! You're hundreds of miles away! One voice told him. Just open the door! Anders' hand shook as gripped the door knob and looked through the peephole. It was indeed the police.

On the other side of his door stood two officers. A bored looking, snow white furred ferret, and a Jaguar, a towering beast of an Anthro who stood a good head over his partner, in what seemed to be impeccable shape. He's bigger than Preston! Anders thought, looking at the jaguars biceps that seem to be barely contained within the short sleeve of the officer shirt. Trying to steady himself Anders opened the door to meet the two face to face.

“Is there a problem officers?” Anders said, trying not to shake too much as he looked up at the broad shouldered Jaguar. Part of his heart fluttered in attraction, another in terror. Terror was easily winning out though.

“There is...” The Jaguar stated, reaching behind his back to bring something to the light. Oh fuck this is it! They have a warrant! FUCK FUCK FUCK! Anders debated making a break for the fire escape before the Jaguar could finish announcing his intent to arrest him. What met Anders' eyes wasn't an arrest warrant however, it was a package of domestic beer. “...YOU, haven't been properly welcomed to the building!” The Jaguar's determined look was swiftly replaced by a good natured, toothy grin as he nearly shoved the package of beer into Anders' arms.

“Do you really have to do this with EVERY new tenant here Jorge?” The bored looking ferret sighed, rolling his eyes a bit.

“What? I can't welcome my new neighbor?” The Jaguar, Jorge, replied to his partner.

“Well do you have to start it with what sounds like a raid?!” The ferret replied, looking over Anders “I mean look at the poor kid, he's terrified! In fact....he's got the face of guilty man! What you hiding from us kid?!” The ferret continued, taking a peek into Anders' apartment. “Drugs? Guns? Illegals? Your actual furniture?!” The ferret continued laughing, before extending a paw to Anders. “Anyways, I'm Derrick, Officer Stapleton to you though!” Derrick continued as Anders accepted the ferret's paw and weekly shook it. “And this big lug here is Jorge!” The jaguar grinned.

“Anyways, we were about to go have some brews and watch the game!” Jorge interjected. “You wanna join us?”

No, I want to rip that shirt off! “Uhh thanks, but some other time! I was hoping to catch up on some sleep!” Anders replied, motioning over to the blow up mattress that sat in the corner of the living room!

Jorge smiled “Alright, well if you ever need me! I'm right down the hall, Apartment 203!”

Anders had first met Preston at Club FoXXX, a rather gaudy, low rent strip club that catered to people interested in BDSM. It's proprietor was a D-list celebrity who fully confessed that he wanted to just opening up a “personal playground!” Despite it's tacky blood red lighting, and less than ideal location, the spot did become something of a corner stone for the Chicago BDSM community, a place to grab a drink, talk kink, and maybe act some out!

Anders had sat at his favorite bar stool, slowly sipping a beer. Unlike some of the more elaborate members of the club, Anders kept his get up simple, whatever he'd worn to work that day along with a simple leather collar. Something he could keep in his pocket on his way too and from the club! The Newspaper where he worked was a whole two blocks at best from Club FoXXX, he'd rather his co workers not see him dressed like a Gimp, he doubted he'd be able to just say he's a big Pulp Fiction fan.

Preston had caught his eye easily when he walked in. The human was tall, buff, and dressed in expensive clothes. His inch perfect shave and bronze skin made him look like something out of an Abercrombie ad. A lot of eyes fell on him, mostly those of hungry submissives, seeing this Adonis walk in. He strode over to Anders, who couldn't help but feel his cheeks grow hot as Preston sat next to him. He looked over Anders, dropping a wad of cash on the table. “Grab me a drink, and join me in that booth there!” Preston had said, walking off. This struck Anders as odd, he had served here before, but they had always begun with. 'Are you available to serve?' or some other type variant. This bronze Adonis had simply told him he was serving him for the night. It should have been a red flag right there, but hindsight is always twenty-twenty, and Anders couldn't deny that it gave him a certain thrill, to just be 'taken' like that!

Preston spoke about himself a lot. About his father's business, about trips to Italy and France. About the summer he spent learning to drive F1 cars in Azerbaijan. He rarely asked Anders any questions about himself, and if he did they all somehow related to his ability to serve Preston. It should have annoyed Anders, but instead it sent him up the wall. Preston toed a fine line between confidence and arrogance, but he did it with the skill of a tightrope walker.

“Anyways I'm bored of this place now, let's go home!” Preston eventually said, standing up and looking to Anders to follow, a gaze of expectation. Anders was drunk on not only alcohol, but submission at this point. He gladly followed Preston back to his car, even keeping the collar on as he left Club FoXXX.

An analog clock, really? It was all Anders could focus on, the repetitive ticks occurring every second. The Badger seated opposite of the desk didn't seem to notice, or mind. “So I've gone over the pieces you brought. I like your stuff kid!” the badger said, shuffling through the papers in his large paws. They were various pieces from Chicago Times, along with a few other articles, some that he'd written up on the spot while at the library to look more productive than he was. “Though I am a bit concerned about the lack of anything from this past year!” Anders had expected him to say that. Oh I was busy, being literal chattel! He doubted that would win him points.

“Oh that Sir, yeah. I'd wanted to write a novel so I took some time, doing mostly small freelance projects while I worked on that!” The badger nodded, his head metronome with the ticks of the clock.

“Got any samples of those freelance pieces? Or hell if you got an excerpt of the novel!” The Badger said, somewhat excitedly at the prospect of the a novel. “My cousin's got a publishing house, I'll see if I can pass it on!” Shit!

_“_Unfortunately, the novel never really met what I wanted from it!” Anders started, hoping his lies flowed as well as his writing did. “It's not trashed just yet, but I felt like I needed a fresh start, leave Chicago, get a fresh look at things!” The Badger nodded.

“So what made you choose St. Louis?” It's far away from Chicago!

“Well it was almost a dart on the map kind of deal to be honest, just figured I'd take on a fresh challenge in a new space!” Anders said. “Plus I like the Arch!” The badger once again nodded, looking over the articles in his paws once more.

“I don't normally do this kid, but I got a good feeling about you! Come see me Monday for your first assignment!”

“Wait really?” Anders said, this had been the first good news he'd had in days!

“Yes really! Unless you don't want the job!” The badger teased, extending a paw.

“Of course I want the job!” Anders said, taking the badger's paw in his hand and shaking on it. Anders stood up, feeling like he was standing solidly for the first time in months!

“One more thing though!” The Badger started as Anders went to leave the office. “If you ever finish that novel, I want to read it!”

Jorge walked down the hallway to see his new neighbor standing in the hallway, looking down at his phone. “Hey!” The Jaguar said, waving to the human. “You know, I never caught your name!” He said, standing before his neighbor.

“Anders!” The human replied, looking up at the huge Jaguar, his eyes still drifting back down towards the phone.

“Waiting on a text from your girlfriend?” Jorge teased him, the same grin seemed to be plastered t the Jaguar's face. “Anyways Anders, I'm about to head to the gym, you wanna come with?” Anders' mind filled with thoughts of Jorge's arms contracting in perfect dance as he lifted a heavy bar, or did whatever people did at the gym. I'd love to.

“Sorry I can't, waiting on a furniture delivery!” Anders glanced back down at his phone, waiting on a ping from UPS.

“Finally got tired of the 'Bare Room chic' thing?” Jorge responded as the ping for delivery sounded off on Anders' new phone. “Need a hand with the stuff by the way?”

“Thanks but it's not much, just a couch, a table and a TV really! I don't want to keep you from the gym!” Anders replied quickly.

“Please, a workouts a workout, besides I still need to have a beer with you, its tradition in welcoming a new neighbor!”

Anders honestly didn't know how he would have expected to get the couch into his apartment if Jorge hadn't walked by at that time. The TV and table were easy enough, neither were exactly heavy or cumbersome, simple cheap things he ordered hastily from a Department store, along with a pair of simple fold out chairs he bought there. Slowly but surely making this place more home. The couch had been something of an impulse purchase, one that it didn't occur to him how hard it would be to get into his apartment on his own until he had Jorge helping him with it.

When it was all said and done, the pair collapsed on the couch, content with their work. “Well that was an easy job!” Jorge joked, still happy to sit down though. “But I'd still say it deserves a beer, you didn't drink all those ones I gave you yet did I?” Jorge laughed. Anders shook his head.

“No Sir!” He said, getting up to grab a pair of beers for them, handing one to Jorge before sitting back down.

“You ex-military or something, kid? Christ you say Sir more than I do!” The jaguar laughed, taking a hearty sip of his beer. Ex-slave actually.

“No Sir! Just, got a lot of etiquette drilled into me at school!” Anders responded “Respect your elders and all that!” Jorge laughed.

“Oh come on, I just turned thirty-five, and I'm already an elder?!” Jorge stretched, his biceps flexing a bit. “I mean if I'm an elder, I should probably chastise you for drinking, and your damn rock n' roll music. I tell you, that Elvis fellow...just pure corruption.” Jorge continued, putting on an attempt at an old man accent. Anders laughed and grinned. Jorge's phone pinged, the jaguar slipped it out from his pocket! “Uh-oh, looks like Derrick needs me to whip his ass in basketball again! Want to come with Anders?”

“No no, I should probably do some work anyways, but it was nice to have you over!” Anders said, motioning towards his laptop that sat on the threadbare table in the kitchen.

“Pleasure's all mine! I'll see you around!” I certainly hope so!

_“_Hope you're not squeamish kid!” the badger, Mister Alston, had joked as he placed the flier on Anders' desk. It was a flier advertising Club FoXXX 2, in the St. Louis area. “Cause it's Valentine's week and people want to read about sex!” Mister Alston continued. “Hell, this! This little thing here is a trifecta! I got Elliot Harlan himself, Mister Foxxx, to agree to an interview about this place!”

“So my first assignment is interviewing a porn star?” Anders asked with a grin.

“And up and coming legitimate actor, and business man. For God sake the kid's franchising sex clubs, and making big money off it! We've got a gossip column and a finance column all wrapped up in one sweet roll of leather!” Mister Alston replied, the badger visibly excited by this prospect. “This will sell papers like hotcakes. Do this one for me, and I'll let you pick your next assignment, tit for tat yeah?” Anders supposed he could agree to that.

“Hell of a first assignment huh?” Bruce, his photographer had said as the pulled up to the entrance of Club FoXXX2, the bat was a young talented photographer with high ambitions and the ability to meet them if he played his cards right. Anders snorted to the fruit bat.

“Yeah, not exactly hard hitting journalism is it?” He said as they got out of the car, Anders looking up at the all too familiar font of Club FoXXX2.

“Not in the least, but it's journalism that sells! And that means our names on the front page!” Bruce walked excitedly towards the entrance of Club FOXX2, his camera wrapped around his neck!

He's not in there, there's no one like him in there! Anders tried to keep his walking pace steady, but he still trailed a bit behind Bruce. Just do your job, and get out. Bruce could see his partner's hesitation as they went towards the door. “Oh come on! Don't tell me you're a prude!” Bruce joked, tapping his foot waiting for Anders to join him at the doorway.

Club FoXXX2 didn't seem to have much clientele during the daylight hours, not that they expected it to. The main bar room held four people, one bored looking squirrel manning the bar for the three clients, or more one client and his two slaves. A gruff, older looking stag sat at the bar, a young vixen in his lap, planting kisses on his neck as he sipped his beer. Beneath them, a young male jackal was serving as the stag's footrest, propping up the cervine's heavy boots on his back.

“How can I help you?” The squirrel asked behind the bar. Anders didn't even hear him at first, his eyes focused on the jackal under boot.

“Yeah, we're here for Mister Harlan!” Bruce said, nudging Anders “Don't stare, it's rude!” The bat grinned. The stag shrugged, gently tapping on the jackal's back with the heel of his boot.

“Right, upstairs, third door on the left!” It was clear now that the squirrel was actually looking down at his cellphone as he worked. The pair started towards the stairwell.

“I really should instill some discipline in you, Alex!” The stag grumbled as the pair walked up stairs.

“No thanks, Rudi, already did a stint at Payless!” The squirrel responded, the stag let out a jolly laugh at that.

“Hold up, I see some good photo ops down there! Go on up and I'll catch up with you!”

Elliot Harlan sat in a modest room, one that resembled the set of a sleazy motel room. He sat in what looked like a decrepit chair, but with all the damage too perfect, to conscious in design. He wore a casual designer T-shirt that fit tightly to his vulpine body. He had a bottle of expensive mineral water in his left paw, and at his feet was a young human. A nude thing covered in tattoos wearing a collar. The human was hard at work massaging Harlan's footpaws.

“Oh you must be the reporter!” He said, with a grin, his bushy tail twitching a bit “Have a seat, this is Gavin!” He said, pointing down to the human who currently had a tongue between his toes. Anders took a seat on the bed, like every thing else in the room it only looked shitty. The fabric of the blanket covering the bed was soft, having that fresh washed smell. “So what do you think of the room? I call this the Noir room!”

“It's certainly, interesting! Are all the rooms like this?” Anders asked, keeping his eyes squarely up on the fox's golden eyes.

“No no, I liked to play with a theme for each room. Give people some options to increase the roleplay aspect. And Gavin here” Harlan patted the human's head with his free foot “did a wonderful job! We'll definitely need to show you the other rooms. Speaking of? Where's your photographer!”

“Oh he went to get a few more photos!” And he needs to hurry up! Harlan nodded, looking down at the human at his feet.

“Gavin babe, I think we should put this on pause real quick!” He said, grinning down at the human licking his soles.

“It is on Paws Eli!” Gavin responded. Harlan grinned and snapped his fingers.

“Come on, down boy! Right where were we? Yes the rooms!” Harlan started back up. “Gavin and I wanted to add something a bit more fantastical to this! Really help people live out some fantasies and get immersed you know? So we looked up some of the most common fantasies people had, and created rooms that help fulfill those. FoXXX2 is a whole different beast from FoXXX!” The fox beamed proudly. Anders nodded, idly scribbling into a note book.

“If I may bring up an earlier interview you held at regarding the opening of FoXXX back in Chicago, you mentioned it being something of a personal playground. Do you still feel that way?”

Harlan laughed, motioning down to Gavin, who was now knelt obediently. “A bit, though I'd say it's more than that now. I want to help people live their fantasies! I want this to be a safe place where people can explore themselves!”

Following the interview with Harlan, they had done risque photo ops in each of the theme rooms, some of the rooms themselves, others of their proprietor posing in them. Bruce had said he was looking for that real 'Rolling Stone' cover look, while Bruce had been snapping his latest model, Anders went to grab a few more quotes to fill out the article.

“Honestly, it's just relaxing!” The jackal, who had been under the wolf's boots earlier told Anders. “I work as a lead ER Nurse, it's a stressful job, a job where I constantly have to be in control, you know? It's just nice to hand the reigns to someone else, you know?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Well that was pretty enlightening I'd say!” Bruce said as they got back into Anders' car, “Like I never thought I'd be into that sort of stuff, but I don't know, I can see the appeal now! It'd be nice to have someone to boss around for once!”

“I think it's a bit more complex than that Bruce!” Anders said, the bat's ears twitching.

“True, but I'd still like to try it. I'm sure they have newbie classes or something right? Would you want to mentor me?” The bat had a sly grin, flying foxes indeed. “What you think I didn't notice you checking out Harlan? I'm a photographer Anders, nothing get's past these eyes!” Bruce tapped his temple to enunciate the fact.

This is probably a bad idea!

Maybe, but it's not like I can sit out forever!

He's your co-worker.

Sometimes you have to take a risk!

Anders cut his thoughts off before his brain could make the next argument. He knew where it was going and couldn't be bothered to hear it, not tonight. Anders looked at the collar fastened around his neck. The mirror in Bruce's bathroom was slimmer than the one in his apartment, it made the collar almost look like a brand new one, not that Anders minded. A new collar seemed appropriate. I dub thee, Collar II. Anders finished washing his hands after his piss and went back into the bedroom to see Bruce spread naked on the bed. The Bat let the wing appendages under his arms spread, he was fully nude.

“Took you long enough slave!” Bruce said, his lips curling back into a grin. “So how was that? Am I nailing that whole Master thing?” Anders couldn't help but laugh as he approached the foot of the bed.

“Well you're certainly enthusiastic!” Anders said, kneeling at the foot of the bed by Bruce's large, slim feet. The toes still keeping digits to allow him to easily grab onto things, or contort in a way to shush Anders with a toe.

“Less talking, more rubbing!” Bruce said, wriggling his prodigious digits. Anders was all to happy to oblige, rubbing a hand up the bat's slim sole watching his toes curl. Bruce remained mostly silent save for a few moans of pleasure as Anders worked his thumbs up the bat's surprisingly soft sole.

“From how soft your feet are I can tell you spend a lot of time flapping about!” Anders joked, as he continued to work up the sole, reaching those long dexterous toes, sliding a finger between the narrow space allowed, spreading them as he touched the sensitive crevice hidden between them, Bruce laughed a bit at feeling that not oft spot brushed against.

“Your puns are awful! I thought you were supposed to be a writer!” Bruce purred out, barely able to come back with a quip as the foot rub continued. “Yeah, I could certainly get behind this!” Anders moved his hands back down towards the bat's heel, then slowly up the ankle, fingers brushing over his Achilles as he moved up the back of the leg, fingers brushing the light coat the bat had. “Fuck, did you drop out of massage school or something? You're fingers are magic!” Bruce was panting now as Anders continued, in a slow deliberate tease up the bats leg, just brushing past his knee.

Bruce's cock rose at this drip feed of attention. He wanted to reach down to take command of that as well, but he wanted to see where Anders would go with it, especially once the human's fingers reached his thighs. Anders running his fingers on the inside of Bruce's thigh caused the bat's cock to throb to the beat of the rubs just under his groin. “Uh, just suck my cock already you slut!” Bruce growled out excitedly. Suddenly the rubs stopped, before Bruce could even open his eyes up to see what had happened the door to the bathroom was closed again.

Anders rinsed out his mouth and wiped the tears from his eyes, but he couldn't stop shaking. The gentle raps on the door rang like gun shots in his ears. “Hey....are you ok?” Bruce's voice seemed to have the same nervous shake.

“Y-y-” Try as Anders might, the words would not leave his throat, instead just more sickness did. He kept shaking. “Yeah....sorry....” Anders gripped the sides of the toilet, fingers nearly digging into the ceramic as he tried to steady himself. “I just.....I need to go home!”

“Do you...want me to...walk you in?” Bruce asked as he pulled up to Anders' apartment building. The bat's ears had been tucked behind his head for the entire dead silent ride to Anders' building. Anders struggled to control his shaking as he shook his head.

“N-no, I'm good!” he said as he reached to open the car door, trying to hold in another attack as he did.

“So, I'll see you Monday?” Bruce asked, his ears flicking as they stayed tucked behind his head.

“Yeah, I'll see you Monday!” Anders said as he exited Bruce's car. He watched the bat watch him until he got into his building before driving off. Anders went straight to the elevator to get onto his floor. He just wanted to get into his apartment and sleep, for the entire weekend preferably, that way he couldn't feel his shaking. The elevator doors opened on the seventh floor, only for Anders' to be met with Jorge's large frame on the opposite end. The Jaguar was wearing a T-shirt that advertised some charity basketball event. Are you going to that before or AFTER you gave bone marrow to gay Muslim orphans?

“Heya Anders!” the Jaguar said, waving an enormous paw towards his neighbor before spotting the collar Anders still had clasped around his neck. “Looks like you had an interesting night!” The jaguar's grin faded as Anders forced himself past, heading towards his apartment door, shaking hands barely able to get the key in. “You alright?” Jorge was standing right by his doorway now, a large hand pressed against the wall. Anders nodded as his shaking hands finally forced the key into the door.

“Fine, just...less than great night I guess, or whatever!” Anders said, opening the door to his near barren apartment.

“You want to talk about it?” Jorge asked, even though Anders had only met him a scant amount of times, it was still striking to see the Jaguar without a grin, concerning maybe. Anders did his best to flash him a smile, disingenuous as it was.

“No I'm fine, just got to get some sleep!”

Anders was awoken by a rather loud knock on his door. An excited knock, one filled with energy, perhaps too much energy. Anders looked at his phone, it was 7:43 AM, on a Saturday. He sighed. Who the fuck is up and jumping about at seven am on a Saturday?_Anders stood up, the knocking still going on, energetic, excited raps against his door. “Hey Anders, you up?” _Of course it's Jorge! Anders fought through his grogginess as he forced himself to get out of bed, if nothing for fear of the jaguar knocking on his door so much that he started to break through it.

“Yeah, I'm up!” He called as he dragged himself to the door. Jorge was dressed in a tight fitting T-shirt, track pants and running shoes. His near trademark by now beam ever present.

“I was heading out for a run, and I figured I'd invite you!” Jorge said. Jesus does this guy ever rest? Anders shrugged, he didn't exactly have running shoes and his mom always told him running in Converse would destroy his feet.

“Eh, I dunno...” He started trying to find a way to politely let Jorge down. That was Anders' biggest problem with Jorge, he was too nice. You couldn't tell him to just piss off, it felt disgustingly unfair.

“Well I could just hook a leash to your...accessory there!” Anders eyes shot wide open. He'd fallen asleep in his collar on! He pouted at Jorge, who just continued his grin. “Please, I'm just going to nag you every Saturday until you do!”

The early March morning air felt like needles in Anders' lungs as he struggled to keep up with Jorge. Despite the jaguar's large frame, his strides likened him more to his cheetah cousins than that of a jaguar. They had started just outside the apartment building, Jorge in the lead with Anders following behind. Anders hadn't done any serious running since high school, and while he would argue in various essays what a short period of time seven years was in the grand scheme of things, it was more than enough time for the body to grow complacent. Yet he followed the jaguar, across city blocks with sidewalk cracks older than both of them were, passing by buildings that stood like old guards of the world. Buildings who's foundations were laid in this city's infancy. These were the real icons of St. Louis.

Eventually the found themselves in a tiny diner that likely also outpaced them both in age. The kind of place where the waitress called it a second home, and where the burger that Jorge had ordered came from a kitchen that held Health Inspectors in the same regard that cops held defense attorneys!

“Isn't this just a LITTLE counter intuitive?” Anders asked, looking down at his own burger. It was a greasy, fattening thing, yet still appealing in it's own way. A blue collar delicacy.

“It'd be counter intuitive to drive here! Now, instead we both get a chance to indulge in a delicious, if not wholly nutritious burger.” Jorge reached for the glass bottle of cola he had order, imported from Mexico. He took a healthy sip of the beverage, purring with delight as he tasted cola made with actual sugar, and cooled in a glass bottle which he wholeheartedly believed held the flavor better. “Plus we're walking home, so that's even more cardio!” He took a bite out of his burger, fangs mashing at the pink in the middle beef. “Besides, I doubt one burger will kill your BMI! That's what kids worry about right? BMI?” Anders laughed, taking a bite out of his own burger, on the well done side. He was just getting used to eating meat again, didn't want to get too adventurous. Slaves don't get that luxury. He shuddered, hearing that familiar, venom voice. The shudder didn't go unnoticed by Jorge. “Something wrong?”

“Just cold out!” Anders replied, shoving the thought out of his head as took another nibble of his burger. It was early March, it wasn't exactly freezing outside but they were both wearing long sleeves on their run.

“Oh God, you're not from like Florida are you?” Jorge teased.

“So what if I am?” Anders replied, Jorge's beam seemingly contagious.

“I'm just saying, eight of every ten tourists I have to arrest for drunk and disorderly, or pull over for erratic driving...” Jorge snapped his fingers “Florida!”

“So you just assume all Floridians are trouble makers? That's a little, prejudiced!” Anders held an invisible object between his fingers.

“That's almost as small as the bites you're taking out of your burger!”

“I'm enjoying my meal!”

“So am I! I'm just more efficient about it!” Jorge took a large chunk out of his burger to enunciate the fact. “Besides, I'm a Hispanic jaguar, I can't be prejudiced!”

“And why's that?”

“Because being prejudiced is monopolized by little gringo sapiens like you!” Anders chortled, nearly choking on the scant amount of burger he had just taken in his jaw.

“Well Hispanic counts as white now!”

“Shit really? No one told me, I still get pulled over all the time!” Anders raised an eye brow.

“You're a cop!?”

“And I STILL get pulled over, I think that goes to show Hispanic ain't white!” Jorge rested on his laurels a bit, sipping his coke contently.

“Or maybe it's because you're a jaguar.”

“You keep up that attitude and I'll have us walk the long way home! How's that for police brutality?”

They did take the long way home, not because Jorge wanted to enforce police brutality, but because Anders “needs to see this old movie theater!” Then he “needed to see this book store!” And who could forget that Anders “Absolutely needs to see home court, this is where I establish myself as the 'dominant' partner in me and Derrick's dynamic!” He winked at Anders, the human had of course left the collar at home before departing on this adventure with Jorge, but Jorge was too witty to let him forget that he as wearing it this morning. They came upon the basketball court, a somewhat decrepit area, cracks in the pavement, no netting around the hoops. “I know it's not exactly Rucker Park!” Jorge said, still showing it off proudly “but it's my park, And we do good work here!” Anders cocked a brow, while he was sure beating the ferret in basketball was satisfying he wouldn't exactly constitute it as 'good work.' Jorge continued, perhaps seeing Anders skepticism, or maybe he just liked telling people about it. “I'm sure you, mister journalist, can see we're not exactly in a great area of town!” Anders looked around, and he hated to agree but it was true. It's never nice to say you're in a less than favorable area of town, but they were, and the park encapsulated it perfectly. Neglected.

“There are good kids here, good kids that need guidance. I've been trying to get some kind of team organized. Just give them something to focus on, you know?” Jorge strode over the cracked pavement “or at least give them a park where they can just play. Just be kids and not worry about” He raised his arms up to point at the area around them “all this.” For a moment, Jorge's grin which until this point Anders figured was plastered onto him via some sort of botched surgery, had faded, he even say his snout quiver a bit. “But anyways! I'll need to bring you down here sometime, Derrick's gotten WAY too easy to beat!” The grin quickly returned as the continued on their pilgrimage back to the apartment building.

“So how did you know I was a journalist?” Anders finally asked when he and Jorge were in the elevator, heading back to their floor.

“I read your article, duh!” Jorge replied “Not bad for your first month or so here, front page on the Gazette!” Anders blushed, a smile forming on his lips. “Not a bad read either, never thought I'd be so invested in reading about a sex club!”

“I prefer to think of it as just a bar with...options for exploration!” Jorge laughed as the elevator doors opened and they started to walk back to their apartments.

“Options for exploration, I like that! Masterful euphemism young one!” Jorge once again put on his, 'old man' voice. Sounding like a mentor character out of some old dubbed kung fu movie. “Anyways, I'll see you around?”

“Well of course, I live right next to you Jorge!”

“So I know you probably hate me for waking you up early twice in a row...” Jorge started, dressed in his police uniform this time. “...but, I realized you've likely had a Bachman's Bagel!” Jorge shoved the paper bag and coffee into Anders arms. “And I needed to get to you before Derrick corrupted you!” Anders blinked, taking the food.

“Corrupted me with what?!” Jorge hung his head, looked like he was ready to cry.

“My dear, sweet journalist. I must tell you, our police force is horribly divided. Behind our happy facade, there is a bitter war between we righteous folk who support Bachman's Bagels, and those poor misguided fools who prefer King's Koffee!” Jorge wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “I mean, for God's sake. Guy spells coffee with a 'K!' That's just wrong!” Anders laughed, looking back over Jorge's police uniform.

“So you're working today?”

“Well I wasn't supposed to, but a certain ferret has a hangover and just could NOT fathom the idea of working through it! And frankly I'd rather just do this then hear him bitch about having to work a day hungover all week!”

“Well it's clear who wears the pants in THAT relationship!” Jorge laughed.

“Derrick's never worn the pants, not in our relationship, not in his one with his wife, I don't even think the guy owns pants!”

“Isn't it against dress code to not wear pants?”

“Yes, but he also gets coffee from a place that spells coffee with a 'K' we can't really fire the mentally deficient for breaking rules they don't understand now do they?”

“Oh it'd be a horrible scandal, and I'd be RIGHT there to cover it!”

“Goddamn journalists, always impeding progress!” Jorge looked ready to continue this banter all day until one of them ran out of ideas on what to say, but his watch told him otherwise. “Anyways, someone has to go keep this city safe for you goddamn College boy dissenters!”

“Stay safe Jorge, thanks again for the breakfast!”

“Just don't ever let me catch you near a King's Koffee!” Anders saluted.

“Yessir!”

“Sir, eh? I could get used to that!”

Anders would have to tell Jorge that it was a damn fine bagel the next time he saw him. He sat in his apartment, idly flipping through TV channels. He hadn't been working long enough to really enjoy these dead days, where nothing was expected of him. He almost considered spilling something, if just to give himself something to do! He continued flipping through the various basic cable channels. Maybe he'd head down to that book store Jorge had mentioned, could make a nice article. Mr. Alston had promised him free reign on his next article, and judging from the front page story on the sex week issue the old badger would have no reason not to follow through.

Anders was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even recognize the sound of cell phone ringing at first, instead registering it as some odd distant white noise. He soon snapped out of it and hurriedly answered his phone, not even looking to see the number.

“Hello?”

“Hey babe.” Anders felt a hand clasp around his throat as he heard the voice on the other line. Preston.

“How did you get this number?” Anders tried to keep himself steady, at least try to hid the shaking in his voice, avoid the cracks as he struggled to hold back tears.

“Are you ready to come home soon?”

“How the FUCK did you get this number?” Anders yelled, hoping it would hide his crying.

“I'll come pick you up soon.”

“No, no no! You-you listen to me, Preston. Preston....I-I'm with someone else...and....and he's a huge fucking jaguar, and and he'll kick your ass if you try anything! I swear, Preston, I swear!”

“I'll see you soon.” Anders threw his phone hearing the glass on the screen crack as it collided with the wall.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK!”

Anders stood outside his apartment building, on his third cigarette. The shaking finally started to subside. The store clerk must have thought I was a junkie! He didn't doubt that he probably looked like one, coming into the store shaking, tear streaks down his eyes, hurriedly buying a pack of cigarettes and a light. The cigarettes were another thing he was revisiting for the first time in a while, but they were faster to adapt back to than the meat, with Anders able to rush through 3 cigarettes in the span of fifteen minutes.

I'll have to invest back in air freshener. It really didn't do to have your clothes smelling like cigarette smoke constantly. I could've bought an e-cig. He looked down at the ash on the tip of his cigarette, smoldering and dancing as the wind blew stray bits off it. He took another drag. Not the same. It took Anders five cigarettes before he felt calm enough to go back to his apartment, he was almost convinced Preston would be there, sitting on his couch ready to 'bring him home.' Anders took the stairs up to his apartment. Balance it out, as Jorge would probably say. Anders found himself thinking about Jorge a lot as he approached his door. I mean I did tell Preston I was dating him. He pushed that thought from his head, that was just to scare Preston. And he didn't say he was dating Jorge specifically, just that he was dating a huge fucking jaguar. Who I pictured as a cop. Anders shook those thoughts from his head as he went back into his apartment. Ok, first things first, let's see if I need to buy a new phone! He picked up his phone, the screen was cracked and functional, and it was all too ready to tell him about the six missed calls and the four voice mails. He deleted them all without a second glance before turning off his cell phone. I don't think I need a reason to go smoke my sixth cigarette within an hour! Anders decided to instead find another form of stress relief as he stripped down to his underwear and crawled into his bed. He stared up at the white ceiling for a moment, letting his hand wander downwards. And for my final trick! This was yet another thing he hadn't done since first falling in with Preston. It was the one he looked forward to the most. It felt like revenge almost. Fuck you Preston, I'm going to jack off and you can't do shit to stop me! Anders felt his cold fingers wrap around his the base of his cock. He couldn't help but straddle a bit as he felt flesh connect with flesh, something he hadn't felt in so long, something being done for HIS pleasure. Anders took care to keep his masturbation slow and deliberate. A year without touch will make one sensitive, even after just a few strokes he could feel his seed rising in his loins, like water building up in a pipe with no release, so ready to burst at the first crack. He let his mind wander as his fingers gently brushed against his cock. He thought about the stag back in club FoXXX2, and the jackal he had under his boots. He started to imagine that HE was under the stag's boots, feeling their heels dig into his naked back. He would look up, not to see a stag, but to see Jorge. The jaguar keeping his same jovial grin as a heavy pair of police boots dug into his back.

“Ow, my paws are aching!” He would say, his voice sultry and exaggerated in just how much pain he was in as he slowly pulled off his boots. Jorge wasn't wearing socks in this fantasy, instead he just wiggled his thick toes in front of Anders' face. “I sure wish I had a live in paw massager” Anders instead leaned in, eyes closed, as he kissed those wiggling toes taking in the thick earthy scent of Jorge's paws. When Anders looked back up, Jorge was wearing nothing but a police hat and a tight fitting pair of boxer briefs. A large bulge formed in the undergarment, threatening to tear right through the fabric. Jorge winked at him as Anders got off all fours and got onto his knees, tracing up his leg as he approached that large bulge, taking in those sweet scents of Jorge's musk...

Anders gasped as he was yanked from his fantasy by his own sexual gratification. Molten seed exploding out of his cock, the pressure finally having an out. He felt all of his muscles loosen in one fast, euphoric moment. Endorphines and oxyticin exploding like fireworks all throughout his body as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Ok, maybe I kind of like him, I guess!

_“_So...are we cool?” Bruce had eventually asked Anders after about an hour of them sitting across from each other in mostly silence save for some pleasantries. The office of the gazette had a some what free-form vibe to it, a number of round tables, a coffee machine and a keg. He didn't imagine Mr. Alston being the one to advocate for beer to be served during working hours, but then again he also didn't see him as the type to be amendment about a BDSM club getting front page coverage.

“What? Yeah, of course!” Anders said, offering Bruce a smile. “We're cool man, hand to God!” Bruce breathed out a long sigh of relief, pressing himself back and spinning in his swivel chair.

“Oh thank God! I spent like this entire weekend scared shitless about this! I mean, it was a huge mistake on my part, I'll take that L, and really I was just terrified because I don't know, you're a cool guy and stuff, and I think we work well together!”

“It's cool man, it's cool!” Anders said, looking back to his laptop in silence for a moment. “Besides, imagine how much more awkward work would be if we did...go all the way.” Bruce laughed.

“Too true man, too true!”

“There are my two stars!” Mr. Alston had nearly snuck up on the pair. “You two just got us to sell out on our sex week issue! So, Mister star writer. Do you have your next story planned?”

Anders thought for a moment. “Actually, yes I do. It's got a strong narrative, tugs at the heart a bit and discusses greater issues. And I'm sure Bruce will get some great photo ops!” Mr. Alston was nearly drooling at this pitch. “I just need to set up an interview, get a bit more info. I should have a story by the end of next week!”

“Wait, really?” Jorge said as he got out of Anders' car, looking up at the large Club FoXXX2 sign, come nightfall it would flash a prominent neon pink to attract wayward souls to its grounds. It looked much more plain in the mid day however, almost sat in it's pale pink tubing.

“You said you wanted to check this place out on our last run!” Anders said, this time leading the way into the club.

“Well yeah, but I meant that in the way someone says they want to pick up guitar or something!”

“Oh come on Jimi Hendrix, don't be a baby!” Anders said, grabbing the jaguar by the arm and nearly dragging him in. If anything Jorge was a bit disappointed when he walked into the main area of Club FoXXX2 to see, a bar. That was it really, just a standard looking bar.

“This is it?” Jorge asked as they took a seat at the bar.

“Yup, this is it!” The bored looking squirrel Alex said, grabbing two beer mugs from the rack under the bar top. “So what'll it be?”

“I just...I dunno....”

“Expected to walk in, in the middle of an orgy? Caged dancing girls?” Alex looked to Anders. “What the hell did you write in that paper of yours?” Anders grinned and shook his head, ordering a beer for himself and Jorge. They started with small talk, how their work weeks were, the quality of the quantity of the beers on tap, before Anders finally broached the subject of his next story.

“So, my boss is pretty pleased with what I did with my story about this place! So pleased that, he's giving me free reign to pick my next story!” Jorge nodded, sipping his beer.

“That's neat!”

“I want to do it about the court, and...you.” Jorge finished his sip, somewhat taken aback but not comically spraying beer all over.

“Really? And why's that?”

“Well, I think it would make a really good story, and it could help you know! Raise awareness for what's happening.” Jorge nodded.

“Well, I would LOVE to help you write your next story!” Jorge replied, Anders smiled wide as the door to the bar swung open.

“Oh, hey Rudi, no kids today?” Alex said to the stag as he strode in, taking a seat at the bar.

“Alex, I just spent all day teaching actual children how to interpret Shakespeare! I don't need my bartender to act like a child too!” Alex laughed.

“The usual?”

“The usual!” Anders watched the exchange, before pulling out his phone. Jorge noticed the cracked screen.

“You dropped your phone already?” He teased. Anders shrugged.

“Yeah something like that, now I just need to go call my photographer. Promise you won't panic if I leave you alone in this den of depravity for a few minutes?”

“Hey I heard that!” Alex called as Anders slipped outside to make his phone call. Rudi looked over at Jorge, before standing up and taking a seat next to him.

“First time, kid?” Rudi asked.

“What? And kid? Really?” Jorge replied looking over the old stag.

“In...this.” Rudi said, raising his arms a bit to gesture at the bar. “Don't answer, I already know, these eyes may be old but they see damn fine. I'm going to tell you what I told the bat when he came in here nearly crying a week ago! Respect him, he's a damaged soul, and if you want this to work you'll need to be open, and caring, and gentle.”

“I respect the hell out of that kid! He's smart, funny, kind and...look it's not even like that anyways. He and I, we're just friends!”

“He doesn't look at you like you're just friends.”

“I thought you told me you stopped being a teacher at 3:30 on the dot, Rudi!” Alex chimed in as he placed 'the usual' in front of Rudi.

“Alex, I swear to God one of these days I'm going to jump over this bar...”

“And teach me a lesson in respect, I know, I know!” Rudi sipped his drink, looking back to Jorge.

“Good talk, kid!” Rudi said to the jaguar.

“I'm not a kid!” The old stag looked at Jorge, then to Alex behind the bar, then to the door that Anders stood right outside of.

“You're all kids to me!”

“So, do you need me for like an interview or?” Jorge asked as they got back to their apartment building, Alex pulling into the parking garage situated behind it.

“I already did! Jorge we just spent an hour talking about the court, and the charity tournaments you hold every month. Really all I need now is some photos of you and other people at those tournaments and boom, article!”

“So you DO drink on the job! No integrity!” He teased, wagging a finger at Anders.

“Oh, you don't know about the keg at work?” Jorge's eyes went wide with amazement.

“You get a keg at work? What?” Anders nodded. “I chose the wrong the job...” Jorge grumbled as they exited the car and started the walk back to the apartment building. Anders smiled.

“But seriously, the job is already half done! I just need to go home, type it up, get the editor to approve it. Then Bruce and I crash the tournament this Saturday, get some pictures and voila. You have one, expertly written, article concerning the need for more youth outreach programs in one of the most circulated papers in St. Louis!”

“I'm starting to feel like you're going to ask me to kill someone in exchange for all this!” Jorge joked as he opened the door, holding it open for Anders. Anders stopped dead once he got into the lobby. Standing by the reception desk, leaning casually, was Preston Blackpool. Anders felt all his muscles tighten, his airways block, as Preston turned to look at him, a predatory grin across his lips.

“Oh, there you are! I've been waiting for you!” He said, walking towards Anders. Anders nearly stumbled back, bumping into Jorge. “And you, must be his new boytoy, the 'huge fucking jaguar!'” Preston said, walking towards them, an undeniable swagger in his step.

“What do you want....” Anders said, trying once again to keep himself steady. He couldn't hide his shaking this time, not with Preston right there, inches from him.

“I want to take you home, where you belong!”

“I-I'm not going with you....”

“Nonsense, get in the car and let's go!” Jorge stepped forward before Preston could get any closer to Anders.

“He said he wasn't going with you!” Jorge said, he dropped into his 'cop voice' as he spoke the words, a deeper, slower, more deliberate sort of language. Preston laughed

“Right, right. His new fling! Look, I'm sure you think he's a fine fuck or whatever. But he is my property, and I'm coming to take him home!”

“Not half as fine as it would be to fuck you up, unless you get out, RIGHT now!” Jorge growled, if Preston lost his composure he made sure not to show it, as he stepped around Jorge, Jorge sure to swivel to keep himself between Anders and Preston as Preston walked out the door.

“I'll see you soon, pet.”

Anders and Jorge were silent as they continued up to their floor. Anders was still shaking as he put his keys into his door, opening it and slowly walking in. Jorge stood at the doorway, watching Anders fall onto the couch and fumble for a cigarette. He wasn't about to remind him about the building's no smoking policy, at least not right now.

“Can I come in?” Anders nodded, waving Jorge in as he lit his cigarette. Jorge sat in a chair opposite the couch, watching Anders' smoke. “So, do you want to talk about it?” Jorge didn't need to know what 'it' was. He'd been a cop long enough to know what a domestic abuse case looked like. Anders said nothing as he finished his cigarette, snubbing it out into a Styrofoam coffee cup. He started his second cigarette before he started to speak. He told Jorge everything, the meeting, the moving in with him, how Preston systematically isolated him, kept him literal slavery for nine months.

“...And one day. Fuck I don't even remember what spurred it. He was angry, and I screwed up dinner or didn't make his favorite meal, something stupid and trivial, and he just...he exploded. He started yelling at me, just screaming at the top of his lungs about how pathetic I was, how much he hated me and....he got closer and closer.....fuck....he wrapped his hands around my neck....and he just....he choked me, it felt like hours. Like an eternity of looking into his eyes, hearing him talk about how it wouldn't even matter if he killed me....then I passed out. I woke up...hours later I think, it was the dead of night...he had just left me on the floor. I don't know if he thought he had killed me or not...but I knew that I had to run, I packed two duffel bags, one with clothes...” Anders hesitated a moment, “one with jewelry, and other expensive shit. I packed em up in the car, drove to the first 24 Hour pawn shop I could find...man that place was sketchy!” Anders continued with another long drag of his cigarette. “Bullet proof glass, steel bars, whole shebang. Guy behind the counter was some old boar! Offered me Ten K for all the jewelry. I wanted to ask what a guy in one of the shittier parts of Chicago was doing with ten thousand dollars that he could just, toss around...but then again I'm sure he wanted to ask what someone was doing at two in the morning with a duffel bag full of jewelry and a harried expression!” Jorge said nothing, he just listened and nodded. Anders was sure he was going to arrest him regarding the thievery, but he said nothing about it, almost like he had already erased that part from his mind.

“Do you want to stay at my place tonight?” was all the Jaguar said “I'd feel wrong leaving you alone tonight!”

“Yeah, I'd like that...I'd like that a lot!”

Jorge's apartment was identical in layout to Anders'. Same room layout, same dimensions, it was much more well furnished though, the effect of someone actually planning to live somewhere versus someone just landing where ever the wind takes them. When they stepped into the doorway, Jorge slipped off his shoes. Much like in Anders' dream, the jaguar did not wear socks. “You want a beer?” He asked Anders, who had taken a seat on the couch.

“Oh God, yes!” Anders said, his shaking finally subsided. Jorge opened his fridge, looking inside it inquisitively.

“Alright let's see here....I have Corona, and Corona!”

“I guess I'll have a Corona!” Jorge grabbed two beers, handing one to Anders as he sat down on the couch next to him, kicking his bare feet up on the coffee table. They sat in silence for a moment as Jorge flipped through TV channels before finally breaking the silence.

“So...boytoy?” Anders snorted and closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“For the record, I didn't specify 'boytoy' I just told him that, I was with someone...who happened to be a 'huge fucking jaguar,' I will confess I specified on that point!” Jorge laughed, sipping his beer.

“Well it's not the worst thing I've ever been called, that's for sure! And stop staring at my feet!” Jorge lightly nudged Anders with an elbow, grinning. “This is still MY apartment after all....I mean unless it like grosses you out or something....” Anders hadn't even realized he'd been staring at Jorge's feet, watching those thick toes flex and curl.

“Uh...no, it's nothing like that....”

“Then what is...oh.....oh.....oh my God! You have a thing for feet don't you?” Anders wished he had fur to help hide his blush, though he doubted even a thick coat of red fox fur would camouflage this blush.

“Sh-shut up!”

“Oh my God, you super do!” Jorge flexed his toes a bit more, Anders stared mesmerized. “I bet if I placed my feet in your lap, you'd go crazy and start rubbing them wouldn't you!”

“I...mean....only one way to find out....” Jorge looked at Anders for a moment.

“You sure? I mean, I get that tonight might not be a...prime night!”

“Just shut up and let me rub your feet!” Jorge grinned as he gleefully propped his large feet in Anders' lap, kissing his forehead as Anders set his beer on the coffee table and started to rub them, that thick earthen smell even better than what he had fantasized about as he ran fingers up those thick soles, still mesmerized as Jorge flexed and curled his toes. Anders was impatient and quickly leaned in and kissed his toes, feeling his jeans tighten. It wasn't lost on Jorge, he pointed to Anders' boner, and giggled a bit.

“Seems like someone needs some release!” Anders licked between Jorge's toes, nodding as he tasted the sweet combination of sweat and salt. Jorge waited for him to finish licking before pulling his feet back for a moment. “So...I'm pretty good with my hands, I have many who can attest to that...but want to see how good I am with my feet?”

“Don't make me beg!” Anders replied, panting as he rushed to get his pants and underwear off.

“I just might next time!” Jorge said, moving a foot over towards Anders hard throbbing cock, letting his big toe glide up the base of his shaft. He placed his other foot on Anders' face letting him breath in his scent, rubbing his sole over Anders face as he gripped his cock between two toes stroking slowly. Anders continued to lick Jorge's toes, feeling the jaguar's foot run over his cock. Eventually Jorge brought his foot down from Anders' face, and sandwiched the human's cock between his feet, Anders straddling his cock between those soles, feeling their soft skin glide against his cock. He gripped the fabric on the couch as he felt his seed rise up once again, letting it spurt onto Jorge's feet, letting it ooze between his toes. It wasn't molten like the last time he had cum, but he could still feel the warmth of seed left to boil as it erupted from his cock, coating Jorge's fur. Jorge ran a hand down to his own pants. “I think I'm pretty good with my feet...” Anders smirked, looking at the jaguar running a hand into his boxers.

“Now let me show you how good I am with my mouth!” Anders looked hungrily at Jorge's crotch. Jorge hesitated.

“You sure?”

“Pants. Off!” Anders replied, watching Jorge hurriedly slide his pants off, letting his semi hard cock flop against his thigh. Anders leaned in to his crotch, taking in those rich smells of the jaguar's sexual musk. He buried his face into it for a moment, just letting himself get lost in those rich smells, before he finally wrapped his lips over the head of Jorge's cock. He started to slowly suck on it, in rhythm with the cock's excited throbbing, feeling the beats of it as blood and semen rushed up the shaft. Jorge placed a hand on the back of Anders' head, gently and slowly pushing the head down further onto the cock. Anders took more of the behemoth in his mouth, tasting the sweet flesh as he felt Jorge's own orgasm start to rumble at the surface.

Jorge let a growl, a primal sort that his biological ancestors may have used exclusively as communication as he began to cum in Anders' mouth, letting these spurts of hot seed fall down the human's eager maw. When he thought he was finished, he loosened his grip and watched Anders pull his head back up, licking his lips, only for Anders to get one more spurt of cum in his face. Jorge giggled and licked the cum off of Anders' face before they fell asleep in each others' arms.

They were awoken by the sound of banging in the hallway. A loud rapturous banging followed by a drunken yell. “PET? WHERE ARE YOU!” Jorge let that primal growl escape his throat again as he got up off the couch, hurriedly putting on a pair of pants and a red hoodie.

“Wait here, I'm texting Derrick about this shit right now!” He said to an Anders who was once again reduced to a horrified shaking mess, tears welling up in his eyes. Jorge crouched down. “Listen to me Anders, we're going to take care of this ok? I'm not going to let anything happen to you!”

“But but...”

“I am NOT going to let anything happen to you.” Jorge left his apartment building, Anders curled into a ball, keeping his eyes shut tight, hearing more of Preston's yelling.

“FUCK OFF YOU SPIC!”

“DON'T TOUCH ME, DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” He heard various growls, grunts, followed by low whispers.

“I'LL POST BAIL, DON'T THINK I CAN'T, YOU HAVE FUCKING NOTHING ON ME! HE WON'T TESTIFY, HE....you YOU JUST FUCKING HIT ME, YOU'RE GOING DOWN, I'M GOING TO GET YOU DEPORTED YOU SPIC CUNT!” Then, silence. Nothing but silence and darkness as Anders was left alone with his thoughts. He curled himself up tighter, trying to think about anything other than Preston. His thoughts once again drifted to Jorge as he finally drifted to sleep. We'll take care of it!

Anders felt himself drifting in a pool of nothing but liquid darkness. One word repeating over in his head.

Dead

Dead

Dead

“In other news, Preston Blackpool, son of Media Mogul Owen Blackpool and sole heir to the Blackpool fortune, was found dead late last night following what witnesses are calling a robbery gone wrong...” Jorge turned off the TV, the jaguar was in the kitchen. Anders could smell bacon and eggs being cooked on a pan.

“Is it true?” Anders asked as he sat up, looking down to notice he was still naked. Jorge came into the room, he was dressed in a tight fitting black T-shirt and sweat pants.

“Yeah, I went with Derrick after the arrest, actually punched the fucker to.” Jorge proudly held up his bloodied knuckles. “He posted bond, like he said he would! Stomped off into the night!”

“What happened?”

“Well from what I heard, off the record of course, I'm not being included in this investigation for...obvious reasons. Stomping off into the night, alone, wearing a lot of designer clothes. Some banger saw a quick, easy score, shit went south.” Jorge shrugged. Anders nodded, this felt odd. He shouldn't enjoy knowing someone died last night, but he felt...at ease, like a pair of hands were no longer clasped around his neck. I'm not going to let anything happen to you.

_“_So that's Jorge huh?” Bruce had asked Anders, the pair of them taking pictures of the charity basketball game, one that would hopefully receive a lot more attention in the coming weeks due to the upcoming article. “He seems like a pretty nice guy!”

“He is!”

The Body of Preston Blackpool, son of Media Mogul, Owen Blackpool was found on the early morning of Saturday, March 9th. Mister Blackpool is believed to be the victim of a mugging gone wrong, following his attempt to return to his Hilton Hotel room, following being released from jail regarding an drunk and disorderly arrest. Although most in the neighborhood claimed they saw nothing regarding the robbery, one witness made claims of seeing a large figure in a red hoodie fleeing the scene.

He most definitely is...