By the Hour
Author's Note: the following is a work of furry fiction. As such, it may contain acts and material that may be offensive to some readers. This may include sex, violence, language, and some rather dark descriptions. If any of this bothers you, or makes you all depressed and emo, take a pill and go blogging or something. If you want to be a part of a creative coyolf's rambling attempts to vent the demons plaguing his mind at times, then read on and fall into my world. In either case, know I'll feel better having written this.
FEEDBACK always welcome to: [email protected]
By the Hour ©MMVI Whyte Yoté
For what seemed to be the hundredth time that night, Elijah "South" Pollock's heart made the short trip from his stomach to his throat, and he licked the muzzy nervousness from his mouth, swallowing with minor difficulty. Donovan, his best friend, had taken him by a coffee shop for green tea, just to humor the raccoon, but it didn't seem to be working. It was probably more psychosomatic than anything, anyway. Most things were. But he looked at his trembling hands, and knew those were not made up.
"You're such a fucking baby," said the lion sitting across from him on the other double bed in the dingy, falsely clean-looking motel room, watching his friend fidget with bemusement. If Donovan had any doubts about what they were doing, he didn't show them. His posture was relaxed, propped up and leaning back on his hands, the tuft of his tail swishing confidence across several inches of flower-printed comforter.
The raccoon spoke up, in his own defense, "I'm not a baby. Why would you say something like that? Did it ever occur to you how much about this is wrong? I can't believe I'm even here." He crossed his arms, quickly becoming aware how pouty he looked then, and corrected himself. Donovan saw, but said nothing. South sighed and looked around the room again, as if he hadn't memorized every sordid detail about it already, faintly wishing he'd brought his laptop with him. He had a term paper due tomorrow morning, and the rough draft wasn't going to proofread itself.
They'd had to drive all the way across town to get to this place, because their "date" didn't have a car, and she had refused a ride from both lion and raccoon. The Eastern Motel--rooms by however long you plan to stay, quiet, free HBO, the whole deal. Donovan had been almost giddy as they had pulled up, seeming to feed off of South's anxiety. He had paid three hours' worth to the cashier with a smile, and even though the woman behind the desk undoubtedly knew what was up with two college students in her motel, she had taken the money and said, "305. Round the back. Might wanna drive. Key drop is outside my door, please."
The room smelled very faintly of cigarettes (the motel had converted this room to non-smoking some years ago), industrial lime cleaner and Febreze, as if the three scents had been deliberately chosen for their combined ability to block out the remnants of frequent sex with their snout-wrinkling qualities. What lights there were, shone orange, illuminating the carcasses of insects long-drawn towards and trapped within them. The beds, with their ugly flowered comforters (chosen, most likely, to hide telltale stains), were soft and springy and not at all uncomfortable, and it didn't matter if the sheets underneath were clean because the two had no intention of staying the night. South had gotten a brief enough look in the bathroom to discover the mirror was missing a corner and the bathtub was a bright Hot Rod red.
"You were right behind me, pullin' your pud while I chatted with this girl," the lion said matter-of-factly, and even though South hadn't been pulling on anything at the time, he could see the point. It was a Wednesday night in a boring college town, they had both admitted to being horny (South would have been just as much at home locked in his room with his computer, but he didn't want to seem completely asexual) and Donovan, in his infinite wisdom, decided to call up Casual_Inc.com for some random action. Ever the unpredictable one, the lion had somehow convinced the raccoon it was a good idea and a harmless one-night stand. He'd stated, "Whoever's on there is looking for the same thing we are, so don't worry. I got condoms. Jeez." That was Donnie for you: always looking out.
South decided to let the previous comment go without challenge; the last thing he wanted was a debate in some ghetto motel room. "When is she supposed to be here, again?" he asked instead, kneading the comforter and trying not to be obvious about it.
"She's four minutes late," replied the lion, glancing at his wrist. "I thought she said she lived over here; I don't know what the holdup is."
"Maybe she got cold feet. I wouldn't be surprised, the way you were practically fucking her over IM." South broke an actual smile at that. The skunk on the other end of the modem had been using the same suggestive language as Donovan, line for line, but showing up for real took a lot more guts.
"She had better not have. Gas is too expensive to waste on shit trips like this." The raccoon was watching Donovan as he spoke, and as the lion ran a hand through his mane he could see a trace of the stress college had taken on him. It was mostly around his eyes, and in the slight lack of energy in his movements. He worked hard, and he probably thought he deserved this, and South found himself hoping the girl did show up, if only for Donovan's benefit. Shallow was as shallow did, but, hey.
South chuckled. "Hey, if she doesn't show up, we still have almost three hours. We could jack each other off like, you know, five times before we had to leave."
"Oh, don't even go there, dude!" the lion exclaimed, swinging his legs onto the bed and turning away repulsedly, although in the moment Donovan's legs were spread South thought he caught a trace of a bulge that hadn't been there before. If he was horny enough, and if the skunk didn't show, Donovan might just be tempted. Less chance of disease, anyway. Neither of them were gay, but that had little to do with helping a friend in need. What was the raccoon thinking? What the fuck? He must be a bit more desperate than he thought.
The sound of an ill-maintained four-cylinder engine rattled to a stop outside the window in a double set of lights that played across the far wall of the room, tracing the silhouettes of various rips, mends and holes over the wallpaper. Donovan looked at South with a glimmer that was either excitation or nerves, and the raccoon adjusted his own mild arousal when the lion turned back to the front door. Then he remembered to breathe, his heart finally jumping when he did so. This was the moment when the candy coating was stripped away, and the rawness of what they were in the middle of shone through in cruel, rough detail. If it was an attack of conscience, apparently Donovan didn't pay it any heed. He was up and rounding the corner of the bed when the person on the other end lifted the knocker, then let it fall. It sounded nothing but hollow.
Donovan bent to look through the keyhole, and his tail twitched a little faster. Turning back to South, he pumped his fist and mouthed, "Yes!" before sliding the security chain and swinging the door open. What happened to her not having a car? the raccoon thought, but she could have gotten a ride somehow. Or she could have shown up just as another person was driving in. What stupid worries.
She was bathed in the faint orange glow of halogen, and she paused to notice the raccoon before stepping into the room. The buzz of freeway traffic died with the aid of Donovan's hand, and he made quick work of the chain and deadbolt. The skunk set her purse (it had those annoying interlocking C's evident of a Coach bag, so typical) on the small writing table in front of the window, not minding the way her tight red dress fell away from her breasts when she bent slightly.
Walking over to Donovan, who was very much enjoying his view, the skunk traced a claw under his chin, tilting his head this way and that, and twirled his whiskers. After the lion let out an uncharacteristic mew, she said, "It's finally good to see someone--someones--who actually look like their pictures online. You can call me Sophie." Now she was looking at South, who was feeling his cheeks flush from being scrutinized by a woman, something that had happened rarely before, if ever. "I've never had a room on this side of the hotel," she said, giving undue credit to the establishment. "It's nice."
"It's got a red bathtub," the raccoon said, and flushed even hotter under his mask. What a stupid thing to say.
"Last time I used the tub, I had to wait, like, ten minutes for the water to stop smelling like iron," Sophie giggled, looking her actual age of twenty-seven for a moment. That she had seven years on both men mattered little; the main idea here was that they were all here together to have fun. She sighed, and her breasts jiggled inside the taut red fabric, and South glanced at Donovan and saw the clear half-circle of his erection pleading to be let free of its denim prison. The lion was biting his lip, but stopped when the skunk turned around. Her long, luxurious "S" of a tail almost clocked South in the head, and her smell came to him then: biting, expensive perfume, female musk and a hint of vanilla applied to take the edge off it all.
"Well, hopefully we won't have to use it tonight...unless you really want to," Donovan suggested, suddenly quite a bit more forward than South had thought he could be this early in the night. The raccoon was probably projecting his own reticence onto his friend; he had a tendency to do that. He hoped none of them would have to use that horribly red tub. He had no reason to cover his scent when they went back to the dorm, and nobody would really care even if he did smell like skunk...in a good way.
"We'll just see, won't we? You sound pretty eager, Mister Lion. I can see you're up and ready. How long's it been?" It sounded like an interview for "Dateline NBC," but South knew Sophie was just making conversation. Any attempt at conversation here would be awkward no matter what was said.
"Coupla months," the lion lewdly rubbed the lump between his legs, approaching the skunk, who had now sat and crossed her lithe black legs over the edge of the bed. One shoulder strap had broken free and now hung flaccidly over her upper right forearm. She made no attempt at setting it to rights, and South was almost disgusted with the banality of the flirting game the two were playing. Getting a piece of ass was now a sure thing, so why was Donovan playing so hard?
"What about you, stripy-boy?" Sophie faced the raccoon and eyed him up and down closely, as if she knew she were making him uneasy, which she was. While South struggled for a coherent response, her legs spread in a Fatal Attraction kind of way, and even as the raccoon was telling himself please don't look you know you want to but it's rude and transparent please don't be like Donovan he looked anyway. Barely visible beneath the material, he could see twin highlights mirroring each other, and he knew they were her labia. All sorts of realities burrowed into his mind then, about those lips, and he didn't look up or hear anything until Sophie inserted two fingers into herself and said, "Please don't tell me you're a virgin. I don't do first times."
"Oh! Oh, no, it's just been...a long time," the raccoon finally blurted, clutching his twitching tail around his hip to hide his fully-erected member. Part of him was glad to be skipping the will-she-won't-she of the dating game, but part of him thought he would miss the buildup to meaningful, fulfilling sex. At least it was sex period.
"Maybe he should go first," said Donovan, whose tail was making lazy pendulum swings behind him. "It's definitely been longer for him." The lion pawed openly at his fly, practically masturbating. He couldn't wait for a taste of Sophie; it was kind of him to settle for sloppy seconds.
"Maybe you should both go at the same time. You know, I have more than one hole." There it was: a total, open, undisguised invitation, so unmistakable in its honesty and the way Sophie practically purred out the words. "I get so hot when two cocks are in me at once. Makes me come hard and fast, especially when the boys I'm with are into each other as much as they are into me." The skunk stood and had climbed onto the bed on top of South before he'd had a chance to move away, and her right knee was pressing hard up against his balls. His cock shifted and extended under his boxers, making the raccoon moan, and Sophie was on top of him, kissing him.
"Whoa, fucking hot, dude. I want some of that." South heard Donovan murr as he tasted Sophie's tongue against his. Her muzzle was clean and compact, smelling lightly of vanilla like the rest of her, and her kiss was open-mouthed but gentle, and slow. South returned it in kind, enjoying the attention, but didn't press further; he was too concentrated on grinding up against the skunk's knee to do much more.
South could not express enough gratefulness for having his previous doubts erased by the skunk's overt attentions on him, because his aching cock would have had something to say about him pussying out on such a good opportunity. An older chick was digging him, and the fact no longer mattered as much that she was someone they had met on a casual sex site, and wanted the two of them for fucking as much as they wanted her for fucking, and nothing else. Sophie took her knees off the bed, but her hand was right there to continue fondling South's crotch. The raccoon ground up against her fingers, and when it finally occurred to him where his hand was as well, he stroked two of his fingers up her perineum and into her sex, soaking them instantly.
"Go man, go," Donovan practically moaned from South's left side, and the raccoon opened his eyes to see his friend watching him finger Sophie, who was now moaning deeply. It sounded fake, but she kept her lips locked to his. At some point, South noted, the lion had pulled his cock out and had no qualms about masturbating in front of his friend. It was a respectable seven inches, and was dripping profusely onto the comforter next to the raccoon's left shoulder.
It occurred to South that they were not five minutes into this encounter, and already the sex was happening. Somehow, before it had seemed that there should be some period of time for talking, or getting to know the other person, or planning who would fuck whom, something before it got serious. It was astounding. But it was what they wanted, and it was what they were getting. And damn if he didn't like it when Sophie got ahold of his zipper and pulled it down, shoved her hand inside and came out with his raging boner that felt so big when it was squeezed like that. He looked at Donovan, the lion looked back at him, and he just didn't care anymore.
Sophie broke the kiss to look down at what she was stroking. For a second there, the nagging doubt that there was something about his anatomy that would prevent the action from continuing sent a pang of panic deep into his chest, but the skunk only mmmmm'd appreciatively. "They're both very nice, guys," she said with all the tact of an antique appraiser. "Who wants which hole?"
That stopped both Donovan and South mid-stroke. The raccoon sat up on his elbows, and Sophie moved back to accommodate him, shedding her dress over her head in one quick crossing of her arms, tossing it onto the unused bed and standing, not looking very feminine at all.
South looked to his friend for an answer, but he could see the lion (he'd stopped pawing himself but was still poking obscenely from his fly) watching him for the same thing. They were losing the moment; sex always seemed so good in the mind but so awkward and laborious in real life. Who wants to put what where? So, so cold sometimes. But it had never been discussed between them. Count on the practicality-blinding machismo of the college student.
"I think my friend here would prefer the real thing, if you know what I mean. Lack of experience, and all that." He wore a joking face, but South could see he was just trying to make a decision without a lot of technical discussion that would kill the mood entirely.
"Fuck you. Only because I care more about my grades and my future than getting it on every day."
"Yeah, that's what masturbation is for," Donovan shot back, his penis waggling.
"Boys, please," said Sophie. "You're acting like we don't have a lot of time. There's plenty of me to go around. And, I hope, plenty of you."
Donovan pouted. "We only have three hours, not the whole night."
"I'd be surprised if either of you could stand three hours with me. I don't have to rest up and reload in between, you forget." Neither of them forgot. If the skunk was as horny as she said she was, though, it was doubtful even Donovan's insatiable libido could stand up past four or five orgasms. There is a certain point past which the cock just gives up. But South was brought back from his mental rambling when he felt Sophie's hand on his member again, and realized he'd gone completely soft. Not for long.
"Anyway," Sophie continued, "Since Mister Coon here's had less experience..."
"I'm not a virgin," South piped up, and felt more adolescent for doing so.
"I never thought you were. I just think you should get the front hole, and Mr. Lion over there can come in through the back." Such an awful, awful turn of phrase, but it seemed pretty coming from her mouth. Sophie bent down and took the head of South's coonhood over her tongue, and the moan that began in his throat ended in a squeak. He was certainly hard again. "Now that's better. Just how I like it. You want to fuck me now?" Damn, what is this lady's problem with being so forward? South thought, but nodded anyway, producing a condom from his pants pocket, so convenient, and wrapping himself while the skunk watched bemusedly. She didn't look like she really cared about diseases, and that made the raccoon even more thankful he'd brought them.
It had been so long since he'd had anything resembling a real pussy that when Sophie mounted the bed, and then him, he might as well have been a virgin again. The sheer heat that accompanied her slow lowering onto him was familiar enough, but the pure pleasure it brought him, especially when she bottomed out on his hips and twitched there, was something he'd forgotten about. He did feel weird, though, being fully-clothed while having intercourse. The skunk lowered her upper body, smashing her breasts up against the raccoon's small pecs, and indulged herself in a few slow, stroking thrusts. She was doing all the work, and South was content to let her, lest he empty his balls of that first precious load before he got a chance to feel good about it.
"Mmmph, you like watching, over there?" Sophie mumbled, taking a break from nuzzling South's neck.
"Whaddya think, lady?" Donovan quipped, very much the voyeur from the lust the raccoon could see in his glazed expression. He was pretty sure the lion was focusing on the female part of their coupling, but he got even harder knowing his friend was watching. This was definitely going to go down as a memorable night.
"Why don't you get out of those clothes and join in the fun?" Donovan didn't have to answer that question. Before Sophie could get back into a regular rhythm, the lion was already stepping over a pile of fabric on the floor and stroking the skunk's tail with one hand, his cock with the other. South was sure that Donovan, with his rampant libido and endless tales of one-night-stands, didn't mind anal one bit; in fact, he would bet the lion found it more enjoyable than the other way. So when his friend stepped closer behind Sophie and lifted her tail, the skunk paused to let him get lined up.
"You ever had lion?" Donovan asked, cockier than ever, so to speak, and South thought about scolding him, then decided there couldn't have been a worse time to talk. At least Donovan had had the same sense as he to rubber up.
"Lions, tigers, bears..." Sophie rattled off, conspicuously missing the last part. "If you can name it, I've probably had it. I try to be an equitable woman. You're nice and slender, Mr. Raccoon. I like it; it's easier to move around on." The skunk smiled down at South, who would have blushed from the compliment if he weren't already from the sex. Then Sophie gritted her teeth as they heard a sigh from behind.
"Oh, fuck." Donovan growled gripping Sophie's hips and easing the rest of him inside her tailhole. "This is just what I needed." The skunk was panting a little, but it appeared to be more out of getting used to the added girth at the base of the lion's cock.
"He could have asked to use a little lube," Sophie whispered to South, their noses almost touching, but a small smile remained. Right away Donovan began thrusting, which drove the skunk down onto the raccoon's cock again, and all three moaned in unison. It sounded weird and scripted.
Once Donovan got into a good steady rhythm, any hope for a nice slow three-way went out the window. From where he was on his back, South could watch his friend's facial expressions as they went from pleasure to frustration to what seemed like pain, and back again. He'd seen the lion pawing off more than once, enough to know Donovan was using a little fantasy behind his closed eyelids to help pump out his first load. They'd only been at it for thirty minutes or so, and the raccoon wondered how much each of them would come before their time was up, or if they would evenstay in the room for the whole three hours.
Every once in awhile South would feel sharp pain in his shoulders, when Sophie would tense up and claw him a little. Then she would open her eyes and look at him with a weird sort of guilty intensity that clouded her pale green irises a little. And between biting the side of his neck, licking the end of his nose, and milking the cum out of him with powerful muscles, South was slowly, but surely, working up to an inevitable climax. The raccoon tried to be passionate about it, running his fingers up and down Sophie's sides where white fur met black and fondling her breasts, to which she reacted strongly, but he just couldn't find the intimacy. And really, there wasn't that much to find.
It worked, though; suddenly it was happening. Way too fast, it seemed, since South wasn't anywhere near close. But Sophie was breathing heavily into his ear, mumbling incoherently, and each breath was louder and louder. She started to move her hips jerkily, trying to speed up and screwing with Donovan's pace, but the lion could tell the signs even better than South could.
"Couldn't hold back, could you, baby? I didn't *huff* think anybody needed this more than me, but you *ungh* just go ahead and show us how much you like it." He stroked a tawny hand over Sophie's right thigh, and it inadvertently slipped and ended up on South's thigh as well. A shock went through the raccoon, and Donovan jerked away, mouthing sorry as he stepped up the pace, grunting with the effort.
South felt the contractions long before Sophie indicated she was ready to let go, and the bad part about that was, whether he wanted to or not, the skunk was taking him along for the ride quicker than he'd wanted to go. The looseness of her labia when it began belied their ability to clutch his coonhood, slender as it was, and want to tear it off by the roots. She would rise up higher and higher, teasing the underside of his cockhead into a most exquisite level of near-orgasmness and keep it there, then release it when she couldn't hold on any longer. The raccoon gasped as the acute pleasure left his body and settled into a building glow that never quite settled. It was going to be a photo finish; Donovan still seemed a long way off, though.
"Yes, yes! Ahhh! Huh, huh, huh..." It seemed that Sophie liked to wait until the last possible moment to voice her climax to the world. She buried her face in the side of South's long neck fur and trembled as she held back a drawn-out scream. Her lips quivered, her hips shook and moved faster, and suddenly the raccoon's groin was soaked with warm liquid. He'd heard of female ejaculation, but this was something altogether different. South's cock was now very slick and very sensitive, and even though Sophie had stopped moving the mini-spasms were enough to trip his system over the edge.
Very quietly and unobtrusively South came; the only outer indication he gave was a hard thrust upwards while he practically shredded the hideous comforter with his claws. His eyes stayed open through all of it, miraculously, and when his met Donovan's the lion actually winked at him, as if to congratulate him on a job well done. After that, he felt more exposed than ever, and a little sick to his stomach too. He came down too quickly, but he was too sensitive for any more as it was.
"What a good little coon," panted Sophie into one laid-back ear, "you beat Mr. Horny Lion over there. I'm honestly surprised, though I should have known better. You do have the cuter tail." South blushed and wrapped his arms around the skunk, thanking her as best he could.
Donovan looked disappointed, but he was still smirking. "Now what am I supposed to do while you two recover?"
"You could start by pulling out," Sophie said. "My knees are killing me, and I'm sure your friend's back isn't doing any better."
Looking slightly taken aback, Donovan asked, "You're not going to let me finish?" Sophie pulled herself up and forward off both men instead of answering, gaining a yip from South and a wicked-sounding growl from the lion.
"Ow, fuck! That hurt!" he said, clutching his sheath. "I woulda pulled out!"
"Donovan, stop being an asshole," South piped up, trying to keep any emotion whatsoever from his voice. "I mean, you'll get your turn. I didn't want to come so fast; you know I'm a hair trigger."
"How would I know that? Whatever. We have a lot of time left, so I'm not worried. I'll beat you by the end of the night." That devious smile had returned.
During this little conversation, Sophie had managed to slip her hooker's dress back over her shoulders, though it seemed to hang permanently to one side. "Actually," she said, reaching for her handbag on the side table and slinging it over one shoulder, "that was kind of the end of the night. I sure hope you brought your wallets."
It then occurred to South that seeing Donovan standing there, now condomless and dripping slightly and as naked and unselfconscious as anybody, trying to process what he'd just heard, was like looking into an empty room. For all his banter, the lion was stumped into silence. So was the raccoon, but he was the more analytical of the two. Money had never been discussed; in fact, if that had been the case they would have never driven out here in the first place.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Donovan finally managed with an uneasy smile. Sophie's right hand was moving toward her bag, and South's stomach did a little loop-the-loop. Suddenly things were going bad, he could tell.
"We never talked anything about money," the coon said anyway, hoping to keep the skunk's hand from retrieving whatever was in that bag, hoping it wasn't what he thought it was. Donovan seemed oblivious, downright indignant even, and was busy glaring at Sophie with his hands on his hips. "And we still have at least two more hours here." He couldn't help the waver in his voice, and with those two statements he'd run out of conversation extenders.
Sophie looked positively bored with the whole thing. She worked the zipper on her handbag, fumbled with it, and by the time South had decided to make some kind of preventative move toward her she'd already gotten inside.
"Lady, don't," the raccoon said, but Sophie jumped back just out of his reach, onto and over the other bed, and had the gun aimed at them by the time she hit the floor on the opposite side. How she had managed to avoid spraining an ankle in heels South had no idea.
Donovan's hands were up, but he wore an expression of repressed anger, and embarrassed guilt. Neither of them had seen this coming, but he was responsible for getting them out here. South stayed on the bed, hoping he looked harmless with his sheath sticking out of his pants.
"Jesus Christ, lady, put that away!" the lion balked.
"You know, you sounded a lot smarter online," Sophie deadpanned. "I had doubts about pulling this off, but I knew you were just a couple of horny college boys who thought with their cocks instead of their heads. Yours isn't even that good," she told Donovan, who almost rolled his eyes. "Yours is better; nice job, by the way," she said to South. "But I'm still taking all your money. If you don't want to get hurt, just give me your wallets and PIN numbers and we'll part ways."
"Fuck no, bitch," replied the lion, the tip of his tail flicking furiously.
"Have you ever killed anyone?" asked the raccoon, and Donovan and Sophie both looked at him like he was nuts. It was an educated question, though: the whole time since the skunk had pulled the gun, he'd been working his mind to figure out what Sophie was all about. Plenty of puzzle pieces had come together right at once...her impatience to get the sex over with, her overeagerness, her horrible dialogue. All were part of the plan. She could have just gotten the money as soon as she was in the door, but she probably knew she could get a quick lay in beforehand and not change a thing.
But the point of South's question was to confirm if this was a one-time thing or if Sophie did this often. She covered her tracks well: using an online account she could fake her name, address and anything else short of a picture. She never had to use her real name, and there was really no way the lion and raccoon would ever know the difference unless they rooted through her purse for an ID. She lures men with promises of sex, fucks them, robs them at gunpoint and takes off anonymously into the night. She can do it multiple times, if she changes locations and names, and the only consistent piece of identification is her species. But has she ever had to use the gun? So South looked at Sophie, and Sophie looked back, and there was fear in her eyes. Fear of what was anyone's guess. The raccoon had rattled her with his question.
"If you don't shut up and hand your wallets over, you'll be the first," she warned but it sounded forced. She then turned her aim to Donovan, who was trying to back up stealthily. "Your pants are on the floor. Where are you going?"
"Nowhere," replied the lion, holding back a few choice words. "But if you want my money, you come over here and get it yourself."
Sophie's eyes narrowed, ferocity glowing behind her cold gaze. It was clear she'd never been confronted by someone like Donovan before. Even when put under the gun, literally, the lion could be just as much of an asshole as he was any other day of the year. He thought he was invincible, and tried to prove that as often as he could. But this was just stupid.
"Just throw her your pants," South urged, his heart racing fast enough to make him slightly ill. He rolled to one side as he talked, freeing his wallet and tossing it onto the other bed. "My PIN number is two-five-two-five. Okay? Just please leave us alone." It wasn't so much begging as it was coercing. He wasn't afraid Sophie would shoot one or both of them, but by the way Donovan was acting he wanted to end this before the lion did something brash and got himself hurt.
"I'm not giving my money to that bitch," Donovan snarled, looking directly at Sophie. "She fucking lied to us. I bet she's lying to us now. I bet that gun isn't loaded. Is it even real?" The skunk cocked the weapon, which gleamed dully in the orange glow of the room's half-dead lights. Donovan swallowed, apparently satisfied, still glowering.
"I'm not going to ask you again. Your friend is smart. Everyone's been smart until you, now. Don't think I won't use it." But South was studying Sophie as she talked, and he could see she really didn't want the opportunity to back up her threat. She was used to simple and quick jobs, and this one should have been over long ago. The raccoon thought hard, trying to find a way they could ambush the skunk and get their money back...just tie her up and call the cops...something to just get it over with.
"Fine," Donovan finally relented. "God dammit." He kneeled between the beds, pulling his wallet out of the pile and digging out a receipt. "Hand me that pen?"
South looked around before spotting the pad of paper on the nightstand, complete with a pen that had been around since the Reagan presidency, and tossed the instrument to the lion.
"My PIN's on here too, okay? Three-four-oh-seven. I got yours on here too, South." The raccoon's stomach whirled around again, and he tried to warn the lion not to be stupid. That was easier said than done...well, not said at all. Donovan finished his note, and tossed it and his wallet on the bed next to South's, beckoning Sophie to retrieve them. "Go on, just take 'em and leave us alone. Okay? Satisfied?"
"Yeah, sure," the skunk mumbled distrustfully, and walked to the bed, bending over it. South could see both of her nipples swinging inside the red fabric, and now it held nothing for him. Sophie never looked down as she kept the gun aimed at Donovan's head.
Then South coughed. It was a sudden tickle in his throat, nothing more, but Sophie turned her head for just that moment, and Donovan decided to be a hero. "Hey, lady!" he shouted, throwing the pen he'd kept in his fingers at the skunk, who looked up in time to avoid it.
The lion wasn't looking for a bull's-eye, though: Sophie was distracted just long enough to see Donovan moving quickly to her side, and she darted away right before his punch could land square on her right temple. In one smooth move, the skunk gripped the gun with both hands, aimed low and shot Donovan in the left hip.
South had winced in anticipation of the report, but the sound of the bullet exiting the gun was just as loud as the sound it made flying through the lion's flesh and burying itself low in the wall behind him. Sophie had been smart enough to silence her weapon, so she did know what she was doing...or she was just lucky until now. A little dark hole appeared in Donovan's amber fur, along with a spattering of red along the baseboard and carpet. The lion grimaced, stumbled and fell backwards, then clung to the wound growling.
Sophie looked like she couldn't believe what she had just done.
"Fuck, ahhh...!" Blood trickled out between Donovan's fingers, staining his fur a dark, brackish maroon. The pain was too much for him to even curse, and that was something.
"I warned you," spat the skunk, gun still at the ready, held in shaky hands. "I told you I would shoot. Why didn't you listen, you stupid punk?"
"I'm not giving my money to a fucking whore like you, that's why." This statement surprised even South, who had remained silent, fearing for his own safety. He didn't have to tell Donovan he was being stupid; the lion could see--and feel--that much for himself. But now he was just suicidal.
"Donovan, give up on the stupid money. She has a gun." He looked at the skunk, trying to see if his voice of reason was comforting her to make up for the lion's bravado. Instead, her eyes were narrow, her ears back and vibrating, and she looked to be one step away from clawing someone's eyes out. "Sophie," he addressed her personally, "he doesn't mean what he's saying. You can see he's in pain, okay? Just take the money and go." But both lion and skunk looked at him as if he'd just suggested they all go for a dip in fondue.
"No," Sophie replied. "No, I don't think your friend has learned his lesson. Okay? I don't think a shot in the leg is going to teach him how to treat a lady." Oh, no thought the raccoon. "He calls me a whore, and he doesn't even know me."
"I've seen enough," mumbled Donovan, and Sophie shot him dead center in his left foot. This time he screamed in a register higher than South had ever heard from him, skitted along the floor and fell onto his face, breathing into the carpet and holding his new wound. South moved back toward the headboard, as if the few inches he gained would somehow keep him safer. There was no debating now that he was afraid for his life.
"I'm not a whore. You don't know me. Nobody knows me!" Sophie shouted at no one in particular. "I have to put up with enough without you fucking assholes trying to be heroes. Well, how does it feel to be a hero, huh? Huh?"
Donovan didn't answer; he didn't look like he had the strength to speak anymore. He just looked up at the skunk with blank eyes and bled into the floor.
"Didn't think so. Now we'll see who's the whore, okay? You said we had time, right?" This, to South.
The raccoon looked at his watch, feeling every bit the involuntary traitor. "Two more hours, just under."
"Good," Sophie smiled. "Now we'll see who's the whore. Hey, Mister Lion." Donovan's eyes rolled upwards in the skunk's general direction. "You still up for some more lovin'?"
"Muh...muhhfgnomnuuhhh."
"Sure you are. Why don't you go over to your friend there and help him out of his clothes?" Sophie waved the gun over to South, who recoiled and shielded himself with a hand. "Come on, I know you can crawl."
And Donovan did, slowly, pull himself to a pushup position on trembling arms with much effort. His mane was matted with sweat, and his eyes held a glaze the raccoon recognized as shock. He wasn't bleeding as much anymore, but he wasn't exactly lucid either. South started to slide off the bed to help the lion, but Sophie threw a fit.
"Hey! Where are you going? Don't fucking move!"
"Can't you see he can't make it? Why don't you just go already?" the raccoon yelled, baring his fangs in a rare show of anger. He continued to slide toward Donovan and met him halfway, picking him up by the armpits and seating him on the bed, gently, wincing at the fresh flow of blood onto the hideous comforter from the exit side of the thigh wound. His head sagged, and he fought to keep South's eyes.
"Are you okay?" asked the raccoon, just to say something.
"I'm not doin' so hot," Donovan replied groggily. "My legs feel like they're on fire. She shot me, South."
"I know."
"What'd she mean by helping you out?" South had almost forgotten about that, but Sophie overheard and answered for him.
"I mean, I'm going to show you what being a whore is really like. As long as we have time, I might as well entertain myself. Unless you want another hole." Sophie was waggling the barrel of the gun around like it was a toy, and South thought her words sounded awfully contrived, as if she were saying what they expected her to say, or what would sound good in a movie script. But it was apparent that she wasn't backing down on this. The raccoon wanted it over as soon as possible so he could get his friend to an emergency room.
"So what then?" asked South.
"If you can get it up again, which shouldn't be difficult," said Sophie to the raccoon, "we'll see just how much of a man Mister Lion is. He wants to see what a whore is, he can suck your cock like a whore."
At that moment, Donovan looked over at South with such a pitiful, beat-down expression that the raccoon thought he was going to pass out from blood loss right there. It was almost too much to bear, right then, everything South had heard himself say. The lion said, "I can't do it, South. I'm...I...I don't think I can." And his hand went to the raccoon's, squeezed it. "My legs hurt so bad..."
South bent close to the lion's ear, watching Sophie and her gun the whole while, and whispered, "I can't get you to a hospital unless we get rid of her. We don't have a choice. Do you think I want this?" Then, to Sophie: "This is stupid; he's losing blood. You want him to die?"
"I don't care. He shouldn't have called me a whore. None of this would have happened." And then South could see just how much the skunk believed her own statement, and there was no reasoning with her. The thought of Donovan going down on him hit with sickening solidity. This was actually going to happen.
He turned to the lion again. "She's crazy. We're both going to get killed if we don't play along."
"I'm not a fag, man."
"Me neither. I'm sorry."
"So am I." Donovan looked really hurt, as if he'd finally realized what a stupid decision he'd made for the both of them, and what it had ended in. South didn't blame him anymore, though; they were beyond that. It was all about getting the hell out.
"Go on, Mister Lion. Take his clothes off," ordered Sophie.
South stood up and doffed his shirt, then quickly shucked the rest of his clothing to the floor, taking the used condom with it, deflated, a dead jellyfish on his pants. "I can do it myself," he said with venom, and the skunk seemed content to let it slide. Soon he sat down again, not the least bit self-conscious now that there were more serious things to worry about. He had no idea what it would take to get hard again, much less get off.
"I don't want to do this," Donovan said weakly, and started to collapse back to the floor before his friend caught him.
"I know you don't. Don't think about it." The lion slid out of South's grasp, wobbling on his knees over between the raccoon's outstretched legs. His legs dragged a dark stain over the carpet, and South wondered how much blood Donovan had lost. Enough to finally quiet him down; that was probably too much.
Sophie grinned and circled the opposite bed, keeping a bead on either male until she was dead perpendicular to the pair who now looked at each other with sickened apprehension. "Come on, boys," she egged them on, "I don't have all night." Her braggadocios apathy was beginning to get on South's nerves, but there wasn't much he could do about it except keep scowling at her.
Donovan put his hands on the raccoon's knees and spread them a little more, his nose wrinkling from the musk radiating from between them. "How do I do this?" he pleaded with South for an answer, though South was even less experienced than he.
"Just...think of a girlfriend. Or all of them. Copy what they did." So calm and insane at the same time. The raccoon hoped following the most logical route would get it over that much quicker. Donovan nodded dreamily and bent forward until his muzzle bumped the raccoon's creamy-grey sheath. He snorted, backed away, looked woozy for a couple of tense seconds, and came forward again. Slowly his tongue came out, he hesitated, and then licked over the tip.
It felt good, of course. Anything coming in contact with his sheath, especially so close to his last climax, would be pleasurable to South's still-sensitive coonhood. He looked down and saw Donovan grimacing again, holding his tongue outside his teeth, disgusted by what he had just licked. The lion regarded the raccoon's genitalia with all the vigor a small child would afford a plate of carrots and asparagus.
"Come on already, get him hard." Sophie's voice was now an arrogant buzzing in the background.
"Come on, Donovan," the coon whispered to his friend, hoping to light the spark within the lion that had all but gone out. "Make it quick, and we can go." Donovan didn't look at him, but concentrated on South's sheath, which still showed no signs of plumping. He swallowed, then buried his muzzle in the raccoon's crotch, licking all over his groin with forced urgency.
In seconds South's system was ignited, the hypocrisy of which was not lost to the raccoon. He shuffled further down the edge of the bed to give his friend a better angle, and although his knees protested at the strain the pleasure of Donovan's rough tongue canceled it out. After a minute or so getting his composure, South opened his eyes and was welcomed with the sight of an eager lion lapping around his sheath, which had already given up two inches of his slender pink member.
"That's...*huh*...that's great, Donovan," huffed South, who looked over at Sophie's sadistically satisfied expression. He wanted to ask her if she was getting off on this, if this was some kind of sick fantasy she hadn't had a chance to try out yet. But the lion was using his hands now, kneading the coon's testicles in their furry sac, squeezing his erection at the base, and using his lips to slide the sheath down to the hilt of South's cock. Every time Donovan bottomed out the raccoon would slip into the lion's soft palate, and his head would be engulfed in soft warm wetness. It was working quickly, and thank God for that.
Now that Donovan was doing a good enough job of fellating him, South gave his mind up to fantasy, spiriting up his usual slideshow of pornographic fantasies would help speed things along. At first it was hard to not think about his friend's imminent blood loss or the fact that both of their lives were in danger, but finally he was able to block out everything but his cock and his thoughts. He centered around a few choice images, among which were a girl he had lusted for in high school but never had the guts to ask out, a perverted scene where a friend's mother (through any number of ways) seduced him while her husband was out somewhere, and a time when he was eight and his babysitter had decided to teach him what grown-up raccoons did with their sheaths. That last was a tried-and-true ball-buster, and as soon as he zoomed in on the specifics of that memory his cock gave an extra jump and he felt his balls tighten.
Sophie was now the furthest thing from his mind.
Donovan's attentions were beginning to falter; he would bob for a while, then fade away to an irregular pattern, jump awake and begin again with renewed focus. Just like a tired driver on a lonely stretch of highway, the lion doubtfully had the mental capacity to keep going for much longer.
"Getting close, buddy," the raccoon assured his friend with skritch behind an ear, and Donovan glanced up at him as he kept sliding over South's cock. By the look in those eyes, South doubted their friendship would ever be the same again after this night. Was there even a friendship left? The raccoon tried to reply silently in kind, but seeing the tears of humiliation running down the sides of the lion's muzzle was distracting enough.
"Man, I need a camera, this is so precious. Big Man Lion takes it in the throat like a whore. Now you know what it feels like," the skunk repeated annoyingly, her repertoire long since worn out. South now began thrusting upwards slightly to meet his friend halfway and cut the work for both of them. He was just on the verge of going over, the point at which the pleasure is so great you have no idea you can maintain that level for what seems to be an impossible amount of time.
Now holding the lion's head by one ear, gently guiding him to the end of the act, South felt his ears flatten against his head, felt the tip of his tail fapping the bedspread, and felt his body give way for the second time in thirty minutes, this time to Donovan's frantic tongue. "I'm coming!" he rasped, only loud enough for his friend, and when the lion pulled away he almost lost the orgasm completely.
"No! In your mouth!" shouted Sophie, and Donovan was so scared he ignored the first shot of coonseed that hit his forehead, but then he slid back down South's shaft to the sheath. The raccoon grunted and took his pumping hand away, losing his balance as he fell backwards onto the bed. Hearing Donovan's whimpers, and feeling throat muscles spasming around his pulsing length, did little to stop or lessen the strength of the coon's release, and he knew the lion was forcing himself to swallow at least part of the load. He imagined it wasn't that much the second time around. There was little he could do but ride it out.
The flow must have stopped fairly quickly, because Donovan pushed back away from South's cock long enough to spit a small white gob onto the floor. He panted as he looked at South, his eyes glazed and empty. Then they rolled up to whites and the lion crumpled backwards. The raccoon was down at once, putting his fingers to Donovan's neck and finding a weak but steady pulse.
"Say something," South urged, even shaking the lion a bit to keep him from the edge of unconsciousness. A small layer of foam lined Donovan's lips, like he had just taken a fresh hit of cocaine. His breaths were regulated, but he neither stirred nor spoke. The raccoon suddenly felt like he was to blame for everything, but that was silly. Without thinking, South reached for the telephone on the nightstand and picked up the receiver.
"Get away from there!" shouted Sophie. The raccoon could tell the barrel of the gun was aimed at his head, but he didn't care. He had to get Donovan to a doctor. He put it to his ear, sighed and set it back in its cradle. Just his luck.
"It's dead anyway, so don't worry. Take the money and go. Please. I'm leaving, whatever you do." The raccoon bent back down to check on Donovan again, but the lion's unresponsiveness was the same. Sophie said nothing, and bent to retrieve the wallets just above Donovan's head. South said to his friend, "Don't go to sleep yet. We've got to get you an ambulance, so don't quit on me. Okay?" And then the lion's eyes opened, clear as day, and it was the only warning the raccoon got.
He wanted to believe Donovan would stay put, and not make waves, but that was wishful thinking any day of the week when it came to the lion. He wanted to grab onto those tawny shoulders and hold him down while Sophie left with their money, and they could go to the hospital, and besides getting a new driver's license and credit cards nothing would change. But he was too slow, in that moment, too late to realize, and Donovan's arm was helicoptering around his head, turning him away from the raccoon. Sophie didn't see it either, and she let out a defiant shriek as the lion pulled her over the edge of the bed
The skunk landed hard on her hip, the folds of her red dress unglamorously crumpled on the worn carpet. She thrashed her legs and her one free arm, screaming bloody murder, dragging Donovan away from South, who crawled to keep up. He wasn't as concerned about the lion keeping a grip on their entertainment-turned-captor as much as the gun flailing around in her right hand, trying to find a bead on Donovan while Donovan fought for control of that very same gun. Crawling over the two, not bothering to break them up, the raccoon reached for the gun, overshot his balance, and toppled over to the side.
"Motherfuckers!" spat Sophie. "Let me the fuck GO!"
"Give me the gun and I will," Donovan replied, and South could tell he was holding back a few choice phrases for the sake of brevity. The skunk answered by struggling harder, and actually succeeded in getting her arm most of the way around. If it fired now, there would be a nice deep hole in the bed, and Donovan would have heard it pass his ear.
"South, get her arm!"
It was more of a plea than a request. Donovan's face was a rictus of exhaustion. Beads of sweat clung to the top of his muzzle, his nosepad and whiskers. His eyes looked bloodshot, and saliva flung from his lower lip like he was a prizefighter. But he was losing his battle with Sophie. South picked himself up off the floor and lunged toward the weapon.
The skunk was surprisingly strong for her slight frame, and the first two times South reached out for the gun she pulled it away with selfish abandon. Conversation was reduced to a sea of grunts and growls and half-formed vulgarities that died between thought and speech. The raccoon's world turned to a singular mission, and that was the gun. And when he felt Sophie break free from Donovan, who collapsed holding his chest, he rushed to restrain her before she could shoot one or both of them. That included kicking the skunk squarely in the ribs, the crack of which was eerily loud in the enclosed space between the beds. Sophie made no indication of being in pain.
It was probably a good thing, too, because South wouldn't have heard the gun hit the floor through a blood-curdling scream. It made a dull, empty thump on the carpet behind Sophie's back, and Sophie couldn't see where it landed so the raccoon lunged. One tense second of blind panicked searching later, he felt the cool weight on his fingertips and brought the gun to bear on the skunk's upper chest just before she kicked his knee and he toppled onto her.
This is insane, South thought as he felt claws dig into and over his body. He tucked the gun into his lap and curled up while Sophie yelled and bit at him. After realizing how little it would take to shoot himself in that position, the raccoon pushed back, spreading the skunk's arms away from his own. He didn't expect to be drug backwards, losing his balance in the process, but he corrected by throwing Sophie's weight against her, then falling back on top of her.
"Oooph!" South heard from below, and knew they had landed on top of Donovan. The lion struggled underneath them, an unstable bottom to an unstable tower of three people. A hand shot up from somewhere, and the raccoon almost handed the gun over before seeing the painted claws. Sophie already had two fingers around the barrel, but South had his whole hand, and he twisted over to face the conniving skunk.
Her eyes were fiery now with scorn, and her hold on the gun was like rubber cement. "Give it to me," she snarled simply, the words pointless.
"Fuck you." South struggled harder, his strength thankfully holding out just fine compared to Sophie's waning grip. Pressing down with all of his weight, he effectively squished the gun between them. Gasping in pain now, Sophie had a finger in the trigger guard, so the raccoon couldn't fire it if he'd wanted to. He just wanted to end this stupidity, and he wasn't going to let that floozy win.
South dug his feet in, pushing his weight forward; he could be sure his sternum was being bruised from the sharp end of the cocked hammer digging through his fur. He was locked in an unbreakable position: one hand on the gun, his other was busy keeping the skunk's arm from coming free. Even his breathing, sparse as it was, came measured and planned out. It became less of a struggle and more like a staring contest then, and South found it so oddly entrancing that he momentarily lost his thoughts in a spaghetti western he'd seen recently.
High noon in the desert, faceoff at the O.K. Corral.
But now, Sophie wasn't moving as much. Well, really, she wasn't moving at all. She'd grown very still, in fact, and South actually thought she'd maybe fallen asleep, as logically unlikely as that was. In any case, she'd lost the fight. He rose a bit, rolling off to the side (being careful to take the gun with him) and wiping his brow, then the carpet. How utterly unreal his exhaustion was. Seemingly in the prime of his life, but a brawl with a girl had him panting like an old man.
Sophie was making light little gasping sounds, and when South happened to focus his eyes on her he saw the neat little hole in the middle of her dress, just below her breasts. She wasn't asleep, of course, how could he have ever thought that, she'd shot herself. Her finger had been in the trigger guard, and with all the pushing...
"Oh." It was plain statement, nothing more. The skunk lay still, her narrow waist seeming to vibrate like a dying sparrow's. She turned her head and looked at South. Her eyes blinked once, then once more, slower, and then they faded...but they were still focused on him.
The raccoon took her pulse, fighting a wave of nausea deep in his gut. There was nothing, of course, and South pushed her to the side, uncovering the also unmoving body of his roommate.
"Donovan?" he asked, meekly. A thin line of foam still clung to the lion's black lips, a mixture of saliva and cum he could smell as easily as if it were cologne. Checking for bullet holes, South found none where they would have passed through Sophie and into Donovan.
"It was just blood loss," said the naked raccoon to the empty room, to the two bodies at his knees. "She wouldn't let me leave. She wouldn't." And he tried for a pulse again, and found none. Donovan's eyes were closed.
All the shit South had learned in college about adrenaline and emergency situations and heroism in the face of trauma, the raccoon just sat there, in that ugly-as-fuck hotel room, and stared off into space. For the effort he made to understand the past ninety minutes, he just couldn't wrap his mind around it. He had scholarships. He was in the advanced dorm with a decent, likeable roommate. And now, for the price of a little pussy (as Donovan had so aptly put it), both Sophie and the lion were dead, in a pile, on the floor. What had just happened?
Logic had no place here; neither did spontaneity. South didn't want to do anything, really, except sit on the floor, move to the bed, peer out the door every once in awhile, thinking something would happen to move it all along. He did three circuits this way, and by the time he thought about looking at his watch their three hours were almost up. So was the sun, if the raccoon judged correctly by the navy-and-lightening sky.
So, this was how it was, now. Sophie and Donovan weren't going to go away. He knew what was going to happen, and it was only a matter of time until things got moving again. There was nothing else to do, really, but wait.
But South didn't want to wait. He wanted to keep moving, because Donovan wasn't moving, and he didn't want to be like Donovan. From the door, he stepped over the bodies and found the lion's pants, unmoved since forever ago. He put them on, neglecting underwear, feeling for the keychain he knew was there, along with its keyless-entry fob. The room key was sitting on top of the entertainment center, unmoved throughout the evening. He had a term paper to write. Might as well get it started, because the rough draft wasn't going to proofread itself.
The door made no noise as the raccoon stepped out into the heavy-aired, humid night. Donovan's car bleeped, a muted warning, and South locked the door, leaving the key for whoever came along first. He got in, taking small solace in the steady rumble of the motor. He turned the radio off.
And as he pulled out of the cracked, leaf-ridden parking lot, South couldn't help but wonder how long it would take the police to knock on his dorm room door.
FIN
6/13-7/26/06