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"Predator", by H. A. Kirsch. Copyright 2003.

Warning: this story may induce sexual desire. If you don't want to be induced, say the word 'red' now, and it will leave you alone.

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http://wolfhawk.blogspot.com/ - Writings Blog Thing

Hawk looked down at the sink bowl as cold water rushed into it. The black wolf grabbed the sides of the sink and dunked his head in. He burbled and coughed, yanking it out, flinging water all over his bathroom.

"Fucking hell! Goddammnit!" he shouted, snarling. The dunk was to clear his head; it worked. He now had a fresh perspective on... nothing.

It was almost 2 in the afternoon. The night before, he was unable to sleep until at least 7 in the morning. He lay awake, replaying the all-too-short scene he'd found himself playing out in an alley downtown. The poor fox... the poor fox!? He'd gotten off on forcing the critter against the wall, pounding his cock into the fox's face, creaming all over him, and then had the nerve to take his phone number. The nerve? He didn't really know what to think, actually. He'd been drunk at the time, which must've explained how incredibly aroused the leather-clad fox had made him. But, come to think of it, he certainly wasn't drunk now, and the idea only excited him more. What a tasty little morsel, decked out in spankin' new leathers, ready to take whoever's cock into his pretty little fox-face...

Hawk saw his black member lengthen and stiffen in the mirror, gave a growl, and stalked out of the bathroom. He then rushed back, grabbed a towel, and walked back out into the hallway. Not only had he violated someone's face who he didn't even know, but he did it while drunk, and was viscious about it. The thought wouldn't leave his mind as he sat down on the couch, tossed his head back, and smoothed out his facefur.

Hawk was large for a wolf, a hair over six and a half feet tall. He was completely and utterly black, down to his tongue, lips, fingerpads, even his asshole. He was fairly built, broad-chested with big feet and tree-trunk thighs. He looked out at the world through a pair of yellow eyes under a perpetually furrowed brow. He was the sort of person who got his way even if he didn't want it, by virtue of his imposing manner. He was now worried that he'd gotten a little too much way.

A loud buzz interrupted his thoughts, something rattling its way off the coffee table. Hawk's phone landed on the hardwood floor with a thud. He reached down with a sigh and picked it up.

"Uhm, hi?" an unfamiliar voice said.

"Hi."

"Uh,uhm..."

"May I ask who this is?" Hawk grumbled, hoping it was a telemarketer so he could hang up and continue brooding.

"My, uhm, my name's Armand."

"Hi Armand. And just why are you calling me? I don't know anyone named Armand. You sure you have the right number?"

The voice was starting to sound familiar.

"This is Hawk, right?" the voice said. Hawk found himself looking at his phone in disbelief. The voice said something, a few times, before he put it back to his ear.

"Fuck."

"Yeah, that's uhm, what I'm calling about."

"WHAAAAT?!" Hawk snapped, leaping off the couch.

"Eep. Uhm, no, uh, I didn't mean to say that."

Hawk felt an urge inside him, a rather sick urge. It said, "play."

"Yes you did. You meant to say it because you have your hand down your pants."

Okay, Hawk thought, my turn to claim innocence. I didn't just say that.

"Uhh, uhm-"

"Don't lie to me, fox. I know the second you heard my voice, your little piece of foxmeat came alive in your tight leather pants."

"A-a-actually, I'm not-"

"Wearing any pants? That's even better," Hawk said, chuckling menacingly. His ears were hot, splayed, his cock a throbbing rod standing out in front of him.

"But, I'm, I'm wearing pants.." the voice whimpered.

"Not for long, foxy. I want you to put your phone down by your crotch, and unzip yourself. I want to hear it for myself, you understand?" Hawk growled into the phone.

A second or two passed, fumbling noises coming through the phone. He heard a few soft taps, then a quick zip.

"Feels good having your cock out in the air, doesn't it, fox?"

"Y-y-es."

"Just like mine. Cept mine's big and black. Remember?"

"Yes, I d-do," the fox stuttered.

"Did you like the taste? The smell? How it felt driving in and out of your pretty little muzzle?"

"Why are you...I just wanted to.."

"What's your cock look like, little foxy?"

"I don't, I have to-"

"You're going to stay on this line, and do everything I tell you. So, how about it?"

"It's, it's hard, the head's kind of flared.. uhm, about seven inches? And d-d-dripping."

"Mmmm..." Hawk groaned, grabbing his own with a big paw, stroking it slowly, precum streaking his fur. "I want you to lick your paw, get it real nice and wet. Then I want you to jerk yourself off hard enough for me to hear it over the phone."

"Yes, yes sir," the fox panted. Hawk could hear the soft, wet sounds of licking, then a more muted rhythmic wet slapping sound. His ears trembled, face burning hot, tongue lolling out. He tugged and fooled with his own cock, smearing his precum all over his balls, tail swishing the floor back and forth between his legs.

"Now, you tell me what you're thinking now, foxy."

"I'm.. I'm thinking..about your boots."

Hawk's ears perked. He wasn't expecting that, but then again, he wasn't expecting any of this. He wasn't even sure it was happening, he felt so dizzy and disconnected. "What about 'em, fox?" he half-growled, half-panted into the phone. He could hear a groan now and then from the fox, along with intermittent slapping noises.

"Last night.. I, I wanted to get down on my knees and worship them. I wanted you to force me down, make me lick them... call me a bad foxy.."

"A bad foxy, huh? A boot-licking slut foxy, more like it. You know what I'm thinking about?" Hawk snarled into the phone, pounding on his cock, balls slapping up an down. "I'm thinking about how you've got my cock so hard that if I fucked you in the ass four times in a row, I'd still have plenty left over to shoot it all over that pretty face of yours."

"Oh god, oh god," the fox yelped, his voice growing staticy. A sort of whining thin yelp came through the phone.

"You're cuming, you little bitch? Urrgh.." Hawk groaned, imagining the fox tied up, gagged, leather-cuffed, whimpering, pleading, ears splayed, cock spurting all over-

Hawk's arm and paw was covered in wolfcum, a few jets still coming from the tip of his slackening cock.

"Fuck.. fuck.. you howl when you.. uhm-"

"Do I?" Hawk droned lazily, sniffing and grunting. "Christ."

"I can't believe this," the fox said, the sound of toilet paper being briskly torn off . "I fucking came all over my shirt," he whispered.

"That's your own fault. Shoulda taken it off.," Hawk said, lifting up his paw, admiring it for a moment, the streamers of his own jizz in the fur of his hand.

"I'm in the fucking bathroom at work!" Armand chuckled nervously over the phone.

"Whoa, no way."

"Yes way! I came down here to, uh, I dunno. No one uses this one much, it's in the basement. I came down here to try and ring you up. Uh, you know. Cuz last night, that was real fun-"

"You're at work? You fucking jerked off while you were at work?"

"Yeah? Anyway-"

"You little shit."

"So, I was gonna ask, uhm, if you wanted to meet up."

Hawk paused a moment, his heart pounding. This was way too fast. The day before, he'd never even let another guy look at his cock for more than a few seconds.

"Yeah, sure."

"Uh, where?"

"Hmm. Lemme think. How about Abney Park?"

"The park!? That's not a good place to meet someone! I mean, not like... this.."

"Take it or leave it, fox."

"Okay, okay. Uh, uhm, how about Monday night?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Cool, uh," the fox started to say.

"Now get back to work," Hawk growled, and hung up the phone. What the fuck was he getting himself into?

It didn't take long for Hawk to figure out a plan of action. He had the week off - most people did, since it was election week and this year the city, county, state, and national elections all piled up. It was Saturday morning. He needed something, desperately needed something. He needed a better outfit. Black and Silver came to mind. He passed it now and then; the leather store was ironically on the other side of town from anything remotely gay or leather-related. It catered to anyone who wanted leather, from the most hardcore weirdo fetishist to the aspiring rock star. He'd never been in there.

Outside, the place looked fairly ominous. A fancy, somewhat gothic sign hung over a display window showcasing what looked like a cattle call for Goths. Once inside, Hawk was greeted not by ominous and freaky displays of bondage equipment, mummified mannequins hanging from the ceiling, or anything particularly weird. Post-modern architecture, corrugated metal walls, and racks upon racks of leather. Pure, black - with some exceptions - leather. Near the back was a sign that pointed, "This way to Hell", and next to the doorway was a cash register. Behind it stood a tiger in a bar vest and a pair of chaps over bluejeans.

"DAMN! Harry!" The tiger roared, sending Hawk's ears flat.

"Uh, do I know... you?" Hawk growled, eying the tiger suspiciously. "Wait a minute.. Tony?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Man, where'd you get off to? I thought you were going to college on a sports scholarship?" Hawk said, putting his hand on his hip and walking over.

"I went! I ended up getting a business administration degree instead. Guess who's just about done with the paperwork for ownership of this store?"

Hawk rose one eyebrow, giving a frown of appreciation. "Man, I never guessed you'd end up owning a place like this! I didn't know!"

Tony shuffled a bit of mess off the counter, tapping some papers into order. "Hah, well, yeah... kinda kept my private life private. Didn't want anyone to freak out. But now they're mostly gone, so hey. Why not just do what I want? What 'bout you? Didn't know you were into leather. What brings you over heyah?"

Hawk leaned on the counter, shaking his head, grinning sheepishly. "I, uh, okay. So I met this fox."

"Oh shiiiiit!" Tony said, excitedly.

"Wait a minute, I didn't even say anything else! So I met him, and something happened. He liked it, so he called me up. Set up a date."

"A fucking DATE?"

Hawk rolled his eyes. "Nah, more like... meeting. You know, one of those kinds of meetings. And he's... he's really into this shit."

"So you want to get yourself all duded up to impress him, huh?"

Hawk nodded briskly.

"Do you like it?"

"I've jerked off in this jacket more times than I can count," Hawk said, steely. Tony looked startled, black ears flicking back.

"Uh. Uhm-"

"HAH! Okay, still got the getchas, don't I?"

Tony nodded.

They stood in front of a rack of leather pants, Hawk scratching at his chin. "Uhm, so.... Any suggestions?"

Tony shrugged. "Well, first, you probably want them to fit snugly. I'd say go a size lower than your actual size, since it'll stretch, and you don't have big thighs," he said, and held up a pair. They looked quite plain. Hawk was already looking at different ones, made of thick horsehide, with a curious sort of flap in the front. They looked low-cut, and tapered-leg. He took them off the shelf, and gave them a sniff, growling with appreciation.

"Hmmm,"

"Oh, those are pretty expensive. Very nice, though. High quality. Good if you need easy access-"

Hawk poked at the flap, unbuttoning it. There was a hole in the leather underneath it, and the flap seemed oversized. "What's this for?"

"-easy access, for when you... need it. That's a pouch, silly."

Hawk looked at the tiger blankly.

"You know, for your bits?"

Hawk lifted one eyebrow.

"You stick your cock through the hole, Harry. Not difficult."

The quizzical look turned to a grin. "You have a fitting room?

Tony nodded, and pointed. "There's two, one out here, one way in the back. Use the one out here for now."

Hawk strode back, into the fairly cramped little room. He pulled off his boots, grunting a little, then unzipped his jeans. His black wolfhood stood out, half-hard, and he growled. Not a time to get a boner, dumbshit. He tried to relax, watching in the mirror as his shaft pulsed with his heartbeat, slowly slackening off, dangling over his balls. He sat down, and started to pull on the pants. The smell of leather permeated the cubicle, making Hawk's nose twitch. He shuddered, nervous, his cock unsure of whether to stay hard or go soft, settling for a thick sort of droop, full of blood but loose. Hawk pulled the pants on slowly, feeling the leather grab at his legs through the light fur. Blood rushed in his ears. He pulled the pants up to his waist, finding them quite, quite snug. The leather was glossy, shiny, and a tad bit stiff. He unbuttoned the codpiece flap, and sheepishly tried to stick his cock through the hole. It took a bit of fiddling, but he finally got it. The hole was just big enough to let his cock through without restraining it, the black member hanging down over black leather now. He buttoned the flap up, sort of startled to find that he had to almost stuff his cock into the pouch to make it fit, the shaft curved up. When he looked in the mirror, the bulge looked very enticing.

The pants were cut slim, the legs snug like riding pants. Hawk's muscles shone through faintly. He looked over at his boots, and pulled them on, buckling the top buckle of the knee-high engineer boots. The pants fit perfectly under them, not bunching at all. Hawk looked at himself in the mirror, and let out a growl of approval. He looked like a god. He opened the door and stepped out.

"Wow. Those are pretty fetching on you, wolf," Tony said, crossing his arms. Hawk let out a shit-eating smirk.

"Yeah, you think? I'll take 'em." Hawk growled. He looked around the store more. "So what's next?" he said impatiently, walking away from the changing stall. Tony quickly caught up, not sure if Hawk was going to try and run off or not.

"Uhm, that quick? They're exp-"

'Don't worry about it. I save money like a packrat saves... stuff. So what's next?"

Tony scratched his muzzle. "Well, you already have boots... we don't really have a good stock of boots. We have patrol boots, riding boots, that sort of thing. Not a big selection-"

"Let me see your riding boots," Hawk snapped, cutting the tiger off. Hawk seemed to have morphed slightly, his general niceties falling away. He seemed excited and anxious. Tony nodded, and led the tall wolf over to the boot section. The selection was actually fairly broad, just very small in terms of brands. There were only one or two of each kind of boot.

"We are more of a clothing store than a boot shop, so this is all we have. There are a few bootmakers around here, and a few good stores on the outskirts of town-"

Hawk wasn't listening. He was looking at a rather interesting pair. There were two pairs of riding boots on display. One seemed quite ordinary, and would have looked perfectly at home on an equestrian rider. The other was a bit different. They were knee-high boots, a smidge over 20 inches, and of course made of jet black leather. Instead of flawless, shiny leather, they were made of rougher, tougher hide, still polished. Instead of a round toe and low heel, they had inch-and-a-half underslung heels and a sharp toe. The shafts were tall and straight, with a double row of pyramid studs around the cuff. A chain and leather harness was around the ankle. Hawk picked one of them up, paw trembling slightly, and examined it.

"Oh, those are one of the local things. A friend of the previous owner runs a costume and reenactment cobbler's business on the side. Those were a request one of the local leathermen made. He wore them in a show, and the guy got floods of business requests. He asked us to put up a pair here as an example of his work," the tiger said, his tail lazily curling about as he explained.

Hawk peered at him through narrowed eyes. He'd never heard of a leather show, really. "Huh. So these are the only ones?"

Tony shook his head. "Nah, there are a few different sizes. They've actually sold to a few people, mainly some local rockers. Guess it's the styling. Too many people go for the Tom of Finland look."

Hawk put the boot back down after seeing that the size was a 9 1/2 D. Not his size. He wore 12's. "Who the hell is Tom of Finland? Some shithead at The Pit was saying I looked like him."

"I think he was an artist. He did work like that," the big cat said, pointing up at a stylized drawing of a man in hardcore biker leathers. Hawk squinted.

"Kinda lame. Too burly. No one looks like that, anyway. Human, too."

"You don't like humans?" Tony asked.

"No, it's not that, just.. I dunno, that guy looks like a cartoon character. People don't look like that. Not a real big stroker over humans, either."

"Wait, you said The Pit?"

Hawk shrugged.

"Damn, did you-"

"He made me leave. Well, want to leave. Shithead was some weird maned wolf thing. Never seen one before. Real asshole," Hawk said, looking at the other boots. There was a pair of harness and engineer boots, a couple pairs of cowboy boots, and two kinds of military boots. He came back to the custom riding boots.

"Huh. Well, uhm-"

"You said you had others of these," Hawk said, darkly. Tony's ears splayed back a bit.

"Uh, I can go look. What size are you?"

"12."

"Ahh, hmm. Well, I don't know.. stay put. And I mean it. Those pants are tagged. Try to walk, and the door's going to lock."

"I won't go anywhere," Hawk said, and sat down on a stool. He held the boot up and sniffed at the leather, nose twitching. Something stirred down in the pouch of his pants. The boot was gorgeous. He wished dearly that he could put it on, but it wouldn't begin to fit over his foot.

"Hey," a voice barked. It was Tony. Hawk looked up.

"There's a 10, an 8, and a 14."

"Damn," Hawk swore.

"Actually, wait, wait," the tiger said, ducking back into the back room. He came out, carrying a pair of boots that looked like slightly larger versions of the ones on display. "Hmm, well, I don't know what size these are. They look bigger than 10, smaller than 14."

Hawk took one of them, and peered at it. It looked slightly worn, just barely, a tiny scuff here, the soles scratched up from cement in a few spots. They were also faintly dusty. He reached down to pull off one of his tall boots, struggling with it for a moment.

"Are these used?" He asked, in between grunts. He finally got the boot off.

"Well, you know, I think those are the ones the guy had made. They were a deal, for the Leatherman Competition. I'm pretty sure they're totally custom. I'm pretty sure the guy didn't wear them that often."

Hawk slipped his foot in. The boot was fairly difficult to pull on, but once his foot got past the ankle, it slipped right on. The boot was snug on his foot, just a hair too tight. The shaft came up an inch before his knee. He looked down, twisting his foot, the ankle chains rattling.

"Huh. They fit," he said. Tony was about to say something when Hawk said the phrase of the night: "I'll take 'em."

Hawk not only purchased the leather pants and boots, but a pair of patrol gloves, tough leather bracers with studs at each end of the cuffs, and a chest harness that resembled a sled-dog's. When he looked in the mirror at home, after donning every article, fresh leather scent tickling his nose, feet planted in a pair of boots that undoubtedly saw some action in their brief previous life... he saw someone else. Hawk always pictured himself as somewhat generic, a bit of a brooding man, prone to slightly hunching over with his shoulders shrugged. His ordinariness was offset by a piercing, furrowed glare that shot from his head whenever he wasn't experiencing some other emotion. His mother used to tell him to smile more, since it didn't use so many muscles, frowning gives you headaches, makes people not like you, on and on. He couldn't help it. Hawk was never flippant and light about anything. He took everything like a ton of bricks, the delight of shrugging off or plowing through life's little indignities instead of turning a blind eye and moving on having burned itself into his brain.

But now, in the mirror, that same person seemed to be modified. Gone was his slight lankiness that made clothes hang a bit awkwardly on his body, the narrow-waisted oddness that didn't quite work in a world still adjusting to bodies that weren't quite human. Heavy leather straps crossed his chest, making an x over his navel, two metal rings at either end of a horizontal strap under his pecs. Every time he moved or flexed his muscles, the straps creaked. The bracers were interesting, longer on the outside of the arm than the inside, slightly medieval. They melded perfectly against the short, tight leather gloves. His new, horsehide low-cut pants were held up by the belt he's gotten for his 18th birthday, a wide, simple black leather affair with a heavy, fairly big buckle. The buckle contained an image of a black wolf's head, stylized, made of onyx. The buckle was heavy steel, brushed finely. The pants seemed to hang on his hips, in a good way, the lower straps of the harness showing right under his love handles. The boots were astounding; he shone them up a bit, and they were glossy and beautiful. Tall, almost dignified, yet with that mean no-holds-barred quality that made average harness boots such a classic item.These had flair, flash, yet still would probably strike fear into the hearts of anyone who was faced with the hollow thunk of the heels on a wood floor, slowly approaching.

His cock was in a perpetual state of half-arousal, almost coiled in the soft leather pouch of the pants. It was carefully designed to flaunt male anatomy, supple enough to be revealing and thick enough not to be too revealing. He walked around his house a bit, neckfur pricked up as he clopped about. The boots made him swagger a bit from the underslung heels, as opposed to the lumbering thud of his engineer boots. Every step brought with it the creak of leather and the slight rattle of metal chains. Hawk felt energized by his own presence moving around, strutting slowly over the wood floors of his small house. He wanted to bare his teeth, rough someone up, an irrepressible, hard to finger feeling leaving his cock feeling full and alive inside his pants.

His ear pricked suddenly, hearing a thin beeping off somewhere. He tracked it to his jeans, extracting his phone. The alarm was chiming. The screen flashed the alarm's reminder, a single word. Fox.

Even though Abney Park was almost deserted after 9pm and closed at 10, Hawk still felt slightly sheepish walking through it. He had on his thin, summer motorcycle jacket over his otherwise bare chest and arms, but still had the painful sensation of being stared at by anyone and anything. Painful, in the way that an orgasm is sometimes painful.

The night was shaping up to be somewhat cool, the wolf glad he settled on the jacket. He wouldn't have been able to handle going out in public wearing such blatant sex gear as a harness and bracers. If he was on stage, rocking out some screaming heavy metal, maybe. Not walking through a park, especially not at night.

Hawk came up to a bench at the edge of the lake centered in the park, and took a seat. He had about half an hour until the fox was supposed to show. The sun was almost completely down now, just leaving a burning stain in the sky behind an ominous thundercloud. As time passed, the cloud grew less discernible, much more menacing, and larger. Flashes could be seen along the horizon in all directions as a storm came up miles away.

The wolf intentionally didn't tell Armand where to meet him, instead hoping the fox would just blunder around the main paths of the park until he found a wolf. Except there was be no wolf to be found. As soon as it was dark enough, Hawk sneaked off behind a tree, completely out of the reach of the subtle solar lights illuminating the pathways. Whoever decided the park should close at nightfall was courteous enough to realize people didn't pay attention to signs. The wolf peered out from around the tree, watching for signs of the fox. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this. He felt like a predator, ears splayed back a bit as the thought danced across his mind. He wondered if he'd be able to smell the fox before he saw him.

Hawk found his mind strangely at peace as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, color fading out of the world, replaced with grainy black and white. The dull orange glow of the solar post lamps left the pathway a strange wasteland instead of the lush greenery it had been before. Hawk was half-aroused, exactly half. He felt wired, on edge, a strange hunger he'd felt little twinges of filling him. The sense of electric excitement inbetween his legs was only a part of it. His eyes were narrowed, muzzle peeking around a tree now and then.

Footsteps became audible. He could hear them from far off, the discernible clack of heels on concrete. His cock grew hard now, throbbing inside its leather prison. Hawk growled to himself, starting to breathe slow and deep, as quietly as possible, focusing himself down to one thing; waiting.

Hawk's concentration dulled his sense of hearing, causing him to nearly gasp when the fox unexpectedly appeared into the small clearing. He was cautious, walking unsteadily, probably trying to avoid making noise. The clearing was the first on the path from one end of the park, and the fox undoubtedly felt some inkling that a wolf was waiting for him.

As the fox stood, looking around, ears splayed back, Hawk was slowly readying himself. He lifted one foot, putting it down behind him, bending over as carefully as he could, to prepare a pounce for the first time in his life. He waited until Armand turned to face his direction, and sprung.

Hawk had been on the track team in high school, and so when he took a short running leap, it sent him right out into the middle of the pathway. He landed with a heavy clacking thud from both heels, grunting and skidding a foot or two. Armand positively freaked out, instantly cowering, but mostly standing there. Hawk rushed him, and the fox backed up unsteadily, arms starting to flail as the wolf backed him right into a tree. Armand's back hit with a thud, and the fox started to sink to his knees.

"Noooo! It's... it's... you!" he shouted, quivering. Hawk laughed, getting right up on top of the fox, panting hot breaths right between the vulpine's eyes. Armand was wearing his leather vest, chaps, codpiece, and spit-shined cowboy boots just as before. The boots were now a little dusty from scampering backwards on the dry dirt off the path.

"Yes, it's me," the wolf growled, and grabbed at the fox's muzzle, surrounding it with a gloved paw. "Stand up, fox."

Stunned, Armand tried to get up to his feet, knees almost knocking together. His chaps creaked as muscles flexed below the new, tough leather. He made a soft noise through his muzzle.

"You won't say one word until my door latches behind us both, at my house. Understand?"

Armand nodded faintly, ears as flat back as possible. Hawk pulled his paw away.

"Now, fox. Walk with me," he said, and started off. Armand quickly caught up, as Hawk seemed to be taking his sweet time, letting every footfall have a decided, swaggering impact. Inside Hawk's head, he heard the buzzing of a thousand muffled hornets, an angry roar from his blood that blotted out everything. He saw spots, unable to believe what he'd just done. The fox was stunned, but with a look on his face that begged for some sort of further interaction, something rough. The vulpine's codpiece looked suspiciously like something thick was coiled up in it, much like the wolf.

"Part of me is having trouble believing this, fox. Armand, is it? Yes, okay, Armand. It's having trouble believing that a fox would allow himself to be lured into a park at night, by a wolf he'd only just met, a wolf who'd violated the fox's muzzle harshly in a back alley."

Armand said nothing, although let out a thin whimper. He looked like he was about to stumble. Hawk felt a sudden desire to have a collar and leash on hand, but he hadn't thought to buy one.

"Your name sounds like it should be on a gentleman, someone in a nice dress shirt, a smug grin on his face, muzzle turned up, champagne in paw. But no, you're wearing leather. You look like someone's little bitch, and it's quite flattering."

Armand let out a whine, and a bit of a scowl. His tail betrayed him, though, swishing a bit, trembling.

"It's warm out tonight, Armand. Don't know why I zipped my jacket up," Hawk said, offhand, as they both strode down the path. No one was around. The wolf slowly undid his jacket, feeling cool air rush in over his chest. He turned to face Armand, walking sideways. The fox looked, and then looked again. His ears splayed. "Yes, foxy. I'm a serious wolf. As if you didn't know that," he growled. The roar inside his head dissipated, leaving only silence to be filled with every minute detail of sound outside. He was surprised there wasn't more thought of dastardly things; it had absorbed him for the last two days, completely, more so each minute it seemed.

Armand opened his muzzle, and let out a sound, before clapping a paw over his face. Hawk, who hadn't been paying attention, having turned back to continue walking, stopped dead. His glare instantly fell on the fox, brow furrowing.

"Now, fox, if you slip up - I said no talking - I think you're going to find yourself face-first against a tree, with an angry wolf stuffing your tight little ass with his cock," the wolf growled. He could feel himself growing hard almost instantly, and the fox noticed two, Armand's eyes drifting downwards. Anyone in the immediate vicinity would have heard. The fox nodded, ears splayed. Hawk kept on walking, gravel and dirt crunching under his heels.

Hawk didn't say another word for the next ten minutes, even as he walked up the path to his house, opening the door. He let Armand in first. As soon as the door clicked shut, Armand turned to face the wolf.

"I..." he started to say, muzzle slowly closing back up. Hawk reached up, grabbing the fox's muzzle in a gloved paw. The fox started sinking down to his knees, whimpering lightly.

"I didn't say you could start talking, fox," Hawk growled. Armand was now on his knees, paws slipping behind his back. The wolf let go of the fox's muzzle, and gave him a backhanded swat. Inside his head, Hawk was swearing at himself, unable to believe what he'd just done. Armand yelped, and clapped gloved paws to his face, looking stunned. "I didn't say you could kneel before me yet, either. Follow me," Hawk growled, and led the fox down a flight of stairs, apparently into the basement of the house. The only sounds in the house were the slight rush of air from the furnace and the whirr of the refrigerator.

The basement was finished spare, one fairly large room in the middle looking like some sort of living room, a plasma television the centerpiece of one wall. A couch sat a little past the middle, black leather, with a pair of jeans, a tee-shirt, and a leather belt sitting on it, rumpled. It was Hawk's previous clothing of the day. Armand looked nervous, ears splayed back. One of the fox's paws fidgeted at his collar. Hawk noticed it for the first time. He reached over fast, and grabbed it. Armand whimpered.

"Get down on your knees, on the couch," he ordered, voice booming. Armand whined softly. Hawk pulled the collar tight, feeling the fox tense up, paws shooting up to his neck. "Get down, or I'm going to wait until you faint!" the wolf snarled, the fox collapsing under him. Hawk stood there, looking down, feeling a sort of vibration spread through his whole body. He seemed to be buzzing along with the sound in his head, a thousand and one bees. He felt strange, calm, even though part of him was snarling, vicious. His cock was hard inside its pouch, starting to strain at the buttons.

"Yes... yes sir," the fox whimpered, his bushy tail trembling, held down against his rump. Hawk unbuttoned the pouch, his cock springing out, arching away from the tight leather. The fox sniffed, and turned his head. Armand let out a surprised yelp and turned back, rubbing his face against the leather of the couch, eyes shut after seeing ten inches of black wolf.

Hawk let out a low growl as he heard that. His ears pricked, cock twitched, a clear drop of precum oozing out of the head. Jesus Christ, he whispered to himself. "So, fox, have you ever been fucked in the ass?" he asked.

"N-no, sir," the fox squeaked. Hawk picked up his belt off the couch, and doubled it up. With barely any time to think about it, he gave Armand a stiff crack across the ass with it. The fox yelped, and tried to scramble off the couch. Hawk got one of Armand's arms behind his back, and pushed the vulpine down.

"Liar." Hawk growled, raising the belt. "Have you ever been fucked in the ass?"

Armand whimpered, struggling again, his tail trying to flip down over his rump. Hawk yanked it up, and gave him another crack. The fox howled softly, although when Hawk slid a paw between his legs, the wolf felt a stiff cock inside the vulpine's codpiece.

"Have you ever been fucked in the ass?" Hawk asked again, sternly. This time, Armand almost cut him off.

"Yes! Yes! Please, don't.. please..." the vulpine whimpered. Hawk felt slightly faint, countering it by leaning over the fox's back, sniffing his nose up the new leather vest.

"Tell me all about it, fox, or else you'll feel the sting of my belt again," he said. He couldn't believe he said it.

"A..a.. friend and I were.. j-j-jerking off together, a long time ago.. and.. and.. he said it felt good when you put your finger up there. I.. kinda liked him, so I said I wondered what it felt if .. if.. if.."

Hawk traced the belt down along the fox's rump. He twitched it, letting it smack lightly. Armand shuddered and gasped, his ears flicking back and forth.

"NO!! NO!! I... if.. I said.. if he put his .. his cock back there... so he spit on it and... fucked me.... It hurt so bad, but I ... I shot all over.." the fox whimpered, ears flat against his head.

Hawk grabbed the fox's collar again, and pulled him down to the floor. Armand slid easily off the couch, ending up on his knees. Hawk put his boot up on the leather cushion of the couch, and yanked Armand's head over to it. The other foot was dangerously close to the fox's leather-encased crotch. Hawk reached down and yanked off Armand's codpiece, a drippy pink cock flopping out. Armand studied the wolf's tall, shined boot, his cock quickly standing out straight, hardening again.

"Oh, what's this, foxy?" Hawk said, and rubbed the shaft of his floored boot against the fox's crotch. "Something's got you excited?"

Armand nodded, trying to say something. Hawk grabbed his muzzle.

"Is it this?" the wolf growled, forcing Armand's nose right down against the boot leather. "Take a nice sniff, foxy. I bet it is... I bet you're in love with my boots. You know what to do to those you love, don't you?" Hawk hissed, and let go of the fox's muzzle. To his surprise, Armand started immediately licking over the wolf's new boots. Not only licking, but lavishing his tongue over them, kissing and slurping noisily. "Ohhh, you like it?"

"Mmmrfph," Armand said, his ears splayed, red inside. "Yes sir," he said weakly.

Hawk grabbed Armand's headfur between gloved fingers, pulling the fox's head up. "Oh, what was that, foxy?"

Armand whimpered, his muzzlefur wetted down by his own spit. "I love your boots, sir" he said, stuttering, chest heaving, making his voice catch.

"I want to see you go all the way to the top, foxy," Hawk growled, his other boot grinding against Armand's cock. The fox was definitely aroused, precum leaving stains along the leather. The wolf watched intently, feeling not so much aroused as a strange sense of dark pleasure from the fox's bootlicking.

Armand finished the foot of the boot after what seemed like an eternity, and started moving up the shaft. His eyes were half-closed, ears wilted and splayed back, paws caressing and stroking the tall bootshaft. He suddenly started to whimper.

"Oh, oh, I'm gonna...." The fox whined, and Hawk pricked an ear. He heard soft, wet squirting sounds, and looked down to see Armand's stiff cock squirting juice all over his boot. Hawk immediately pulled his foot away, exchanging it for the one in front of Armand's face.

"You're gonna lick it all up, foxy. And then you're going to get it. Those are brand new boots, fox. They cost me a lot. They better be spotless when you're done," the wolf growled, brandishing the belt again. Armand quickly went to work, the wolf's cum ending up more smeared on his muzzle than licked up. Hawk finally pulled the fox away, and stood up. "Sit back on the couch, fox," he ordered, pointing. Armand slinked up onto the couch, ears splayed.

Hawk held one of his paws up to his muzzle, cleared his throat hard, and spat into his paw. He smeared the wet gob of spit all over his length, growling at the sensation of slick leather against his dick. He hadn't had the chance to feel it alone, yet. Armand shrunk back into the couch.

"Lift your knees up, fox."

Armand whimpered.

"LIFT THEM UP!" Hawk hollered, and tried to slap the fox in the face. Armand recoiled, reflexively whipping his legs up. He almost kicked Hawk in the head. Without much preparation, the wolf bent down and forced himself into Armand's asshole. The fox didn't scream as loud as Hawk thought he would, but put up quite a bit of a fuss, trying to push away. Hawk didn't care; as the fox pleaded, he just took the belt that he'd used for whipping Armand under the tail, and wound it around the fox's muzzle. He pulled tight, buckling it, leaving the vulpine muzzled. Armand struggled and tried to push Hawk off, the wolf responding by grabbing each of the fox's arms and pinning them hard to the back of the couch. The wolf drove himself deeper, looking down, watching his black length become swallowed up by the fox's ass. It looked like it was disappearing into the grayish white fur. To Hawk, it felt incredible. Tight, warm, quivering, and when he started to thrust, Armand quieted down. Hawk grinned, ears wilted, starting to pump himself in harder and harder, cock slipping in and out of the fox's taut ring with a wet squish. Armand's muzzle sort of hung off to the side, a whimper coming out of his bound lips.

The wolf leaned back, letting go of the fox's arms, instead grasping at raised, leatherclad legs. He sniffed along the leather, savoring the scent with a growl, licking along it here and there. Armand watched, flinching with each thrust into his ass, intent on the wolf's treatment of his leathers. Hawk lifted his muzzle more, licking at the fox's slightly dusty black cowboy boots, the fox's eyes practically glowing with lust. Hawk got a pretty good tingle from it, too, his face flushed under the fur, tongue wet with saliva. He heightened his pace, yelping softly, cramming his shaft into Armand's hole, before he slipped over the edge and let out a mournful, broken howl. His seed left him in a rush, tail twitching about behind him. He looked down, panting, to watch Armand jerk himself off with a gloved paw, whining and groaning as he shot streamers of fox-spunk into his fur.

Hawk slipped out, his cock slackening off, curved down, white seed drooling out the tip. He backed up, ears splayed, looking down at the muzzled, spent fox. Armand grabbed up at his face, and undid the belt.

"Oh god," he said, breathlessly, working his jaw. Hawk kept backing up until he smacked into the wall. Armand was suddenly on his knees, in front of a brick wall, wolf dripping off his face. Hawk shook his head, starting to freak out. He expected something terrible to come out of the fox's mouth.

"No, I'm sorry, I'm.. I didn't know what I was doing," Hawk mumbled, arms hanging uselessly at his sides.

"Whaa? Huh? That was fucking awesome!" the fox yipped, smiling, looking for something to wipe his paws off on.

"Fucking..... awe..." Hawk murmured, blinking. He stuck his muzzle out, squinting at the fox. "You mean-"

"I thought you were just gonna, I dunno, stick me in the ass! But you.. you ... did everything I-"

"I thought I was raping you! You said-you pushed.. you... you...never mind," Hawk growled, and went over, grabbing a bunch of Kleenex from a dispenser. He handed them to Armand, then started to take off his clothes. He started with the gloves, then jacket, harness, boots, and chaps. He ended up naked, taking a seat on the couch, looking stoned.

"Wha? No, you ... I wanted all of that! I'd have said stop if I meant it, Hawk."

The wolf splayed his ears a bit, resting his elbow on the edge of the couch.

"Are you okay?" Armand asked, gently placing a gloved paw on the wolf's shoulder.

"I've never done anything like this before. I felt like I was out of control. I felt like I got carried away."

"Do you feel like you did something wrong?"

Hawk thought for a moment. "No, not really. I feel sort of calm now, kinda peaceful."

The fox nodded. He started taking his gear off as well. "Kinda hot in here. Didn't realize it," he said, giving the wolf a good view of his back as he got naked. Hawk stood up, and went to open one of the basement windows. It was large, surprisingly so, and looked upwards towards the sky. The room was totally dark, the only light coming from outside in the form of the full moon. Hawk hadn't even noticed the lack of light. Hawk nodded as he walked back.

"Yeah."

"So you've never-"

"When I ... made you go down on me in the alley the other day, that was the first time anyone else had ever touched me. No lie. Scout's honor," Hawk said, and cracked his neck, standing around.

"You're kidding me. You, you, did okay, I guess. Never done this before."

"This is impossible," Hawk muttered, and went over to a refrigerator. "You want anything to drink?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Armand said, sprawling out on the leather couch. Hawk clinked around in the fridge, and came back with a beer. "Oh, wait, maybe I want a beer-"

"Gotcha one. Here," Hawk said, and tossed it. The fox lept up and caught it, then cranked the cap off with his teeth. "Figured you'd want it. Dunno why," Hawk said, and sat down again. Armand sprawled onto the wolf's lap, surprising Hawk.

"Thanks. You don't mind, do you?" Armand asked, looking up at the wolf, upside down, head nestled next to the wolf's balls. Hawk shook his head, popping the beer open and taking a few sips. Hawk shrugged a bit.

"No, it's cool. Better this than, I dunno, you just sorta leaving. That'd be kinda weird. I'm not ready for that," the wolf sighed, idly petting Armand's headfur.

"You're not ready for a lack of commitment?"

"I'm not ready for sex to be reduced to a service, like someone washing your car."

"You're not paying me," Armand said, arms folded across his chest. "And vice versa."

Hawk nodded. "Nope. I'm doing this because it sounded fun. I guess you're doing it for the same reason?"

Armand nodded too. Hawk downed more beer.

"Well, good. So it's all okay?"

Armand nodded, and sipped at his beer, setting it back on the floor. They both looked up towards the window, occasional flashes of lightning gracing the sky, followed by bassy rolls of thunder. Hawk wasn't sure how long they'd spent fucking, but it was long enough for a storm to roll on through. They sat in silence, watching another storm come up, blotting out the moon, plunging the room into flickering darkness. Rain started to roar up against the window, splattered by wind, and a few dangerously close bolts of lightning made Armand twitch in Hawk's lap.

It was a curious long series of moments, Hawk finding himself fighting the idea of peace after such a strange, violently sexual (sexually violent?) display. Looking back, it was a blur. Different things mattered. The raw burn of sexual urgency was replaced by nothing. Normal thoughts came through with their own agendas, as they should.

While Hawk pondered this, Armand - not even having finished his beer - dozed off. Hawk only knew because after a few minutes, the fox began to snore lightly.