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The blankets were too hot, but the air was too cold. I couldn't find a comfortable spot in the bed. Couldn't even figure out a good position to sleep in; trying to lie on my back felt suffocating, on my side felt like a balancing act. It was one of_those_nights, the ones where you stare at the alarm clock as it inexorably ticks towards morning, those red digits burning into your retina as desperately try to sleep. Yet, the harder you try, the harder it becomes, like one of those nightmares where you move slower and slower the faster you try to move. I jealously watched Keen, my ex, sleep rather soundly. Loudly, too, with usual whining and snoring, as it seems most coyotes do. Loud awake, loud asleep. Loud as he was, it looked like he was having happy dreams, with his fat knotted cock peeking out of its sheath, slightly pulsating to the beat of his heart.

You might be wondering why I was in the same bed as my ex. Well, it's the usual story of heartbreak and splitting up, but there just weren't enough apartments in the city. It'd take him years to find his own place, and I couldn't just throw him on the street. I still felt at least that much for him. So we lived as roommates rather than partners, sharing my two-room flat. Of course, every time I saw him it hurt that he wasn't mine. You know the kind of pain, a gnawing in one's heart for what was lost and can never be regained. We were still friends, sure, but it just wasn't the same.

It didn't help that he was so fucking sexy either. I loved his scruffy, narrow coyote body. Just the right amount of muscle, not even a hint of a belly, and just rough-looking enough that you couldn't quite call him a femboy, even if it was close. If we were still together I'd have woken him up by sliding my cock under his tail. Just imagining that warm, tight stretchiness enveloping me only made it worse, of course, and soon enough I had to get up to clear my mind.

Looking in the mirror, my eyes were bloodshot with fatigue, in unpleasant contrast against my grey fur. I was pretty sure if that if it weren't for the black mask of fur hiding it, I'd have bags under my eyes too. Great, it was sure to be a real hit at the office tomorrow. Then again, I was hardly the only one who suffered from insomnia in this urban hellhole where every hour was bright as day. Thanks, streetlights and advertisements. At least we had curtains thick enough to keep most light and even some noise out.

When I say "we", what I really mean is just me. It used to be us, now I was alone. Oh, all of his stuff was still here too, but it was't _our_stuff anymore. There's some sort of vague distinction there. Just like he wasn't mine and I wasn't his. Yeah, I get a little philosophical when sleep-deprived. Take me now, great Morpheus. I went back to bed after walking back and forth through the apartment a few times and having a glass of water. Keen was still asleep, in exactly the same position on his back, legs spread and cock on lewd display, with him having kicked off the blanket at some point. My mouth was practically watering at the sight, but he was off limits.

Or was he? It's not like he'd know if I... no, he might wake up, and that'd be awkward up to 11. There's just no way, where'd that thought even ome from, I wondered. But it was one of those fantasies that hooked into your mind and wouldn't go away before I gave it the attention it demanded. I laid there, sleepless, trying to think about work, or to imagine myself floating i ocean like a sea otter, tranquil and content, certainly no thoughts about the coyote's succulent, knotted firmness...

Well. My eyes snapped open again. Maybe if I just pawed off I'd be able to relax a little. If nothing else, it'd at least satiate my sex drive for a moment or two, perhaps enough to sneakily slip into a dream while my lizard brain wasn't watching. And, I mean, I at least had something hot to look at while abusing myself. I couldn't touch it, but in my imagination I was already riding his cock, just like I used to before we split up, feeling his hardness penetrating my innermost depths, eagerly thrusting up and giving me a wonderful, bouncy ride. Oh, if only. My own cock wasn't quite as big as his, but it still filled my paw out nicely as I stroked it. I remember what he said once, "raccoons give the best handjobs". I wouldn't know about that; sure, I was quickly starting to breathe heaviy, causing the bed to shake a bit as my fantasies shifted to being on top instead, my paw becoming his ass in my mind's eye.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a closer look, I thought. I mean, I wasn't going to touch him, but I knew his masculine scent would be just the thing I needed to bring myself over the edge. Just a quick sniff of that leaky canine tool, right?

I very carefully got up and inched closer to him, ending up on all fours with my nose almost touching his cock, inhaling that sweet, sexual perfume of his. Oh, he still smelled so nice, even if I couldn't truly enjoy it. My balls started to tighten. Wouldn't be long. I just had to... not cum on him, at least. If I got my own bed a little messy it'd be fine - I _was_a raccoon after all - but if he smelled my seed on him when he woke up I'd never hear the end of it. We'd probably have to sleep in different rooms, and I didn't want that. At least this way I could fantasize about us still being together.

Then he shifted in his sleep, turning in my direction, and his cock bumped against my nose, leaving it wet with precum. I couldn't stop myself from licking it up, and that slimy, tangy flavor was just what I needed. I came right there, stifling a moan as I tried to desperately angle my cock down so I'd cum on my own bed rather than his, but never considering actually just_stopping._At least I had some measure of success; the first spurt of my release splattered onto my own mattress, and I caught the second one with my paw, instantly smearing it all over my throbbing meat, and then there was just the slow, oozing dribbles left, easily caught on the short fur on my paws. When my climax finally ebbed, I was panting and huffing, my ears burning red with shame as I quickly shuffled out of bed and into the bathroom to get cleaned up.

How was I ever supposed to get over him when he turned me on that fucking much? At least i could finally sleep once I'd scrubbed my paws and rinsed off my now-limp cock. In a pool of my own cum, mind you. I'd need a full shower in the morning. Stupid sex drive...

Then, it was morning, and far too early for my taste, the alarm clock went off, ending whatever little sleep I had managed to get. I woke up bleary-eyed and confused, and it took me several seconds to even remember who I was. Yeah, I'd have to do something about this. There was work to attend to, but I called in sick. If I went there like this they'd think I was drunk or high, and my performance would be so bad I'd more likely get fired than get the promotion I was trying for. At least I was seldom sick, so they bought it without question. Instead, I had to get something to help me sleep for the next few days.

I was also rather relieved to see that Keen had already left for work, so I didn't have to explain my situation to him. Not that I was ashamed of suffering from insomnia, but I _was_ashamed of what I'd done last night. No matter how tired I was, that was something I definitely wouldn't be forgetting.

The great part of living in this city was that everything was within arm's reach - If you had the money. Oh, I'd heard the same old "a raccoon can't ever really make it in the city" blah blah blah, but that's something lazy_raccoons say. You could claw yourself up to at least a middle class cushy office job, and I was living proof of that. Sure, you needed to fuck the right people, stab the appropriate ones in the back - figuratively - and generally be willing to degrade yourself until you got there, but I am a _raccoon. What else would you expect from one?

I digress, sure. The point is that I'm not a terribly moral person. As I walked through the streets, which on that note were still_littered with trash - a terrible new idea dawned on me. As much as I needed to sleep, what if I snuck Keen a sleeping pill in a drink? That way, he definitely wouldn't wake up and I could have all the fun I wanted while he was zonked out, right? _It'd be rape, said the angel on my shoulders. But you used to fuck him all the time, he's obviously consented to it, quoth the devil. I mean, my moral compass wasn't so dysfunctional as to not allow me to realize it was incredibly wrong to do it, but all the blood was being drained from my brain by my growing erection. It was odd, because I'd never considered myself to be a... somnophile, i suppose, but the idea of using Keen's sleeping body as my personal masturbation sleeve was fiercely exciting. It was pure selfishness, really, and an inability to let go of him, that made it so appealing to me. At least if I did this, I could enjoy his body, if not his mind, as long as he lived at my place.

So guided by that darkest part of my heart, I went to get my prescription. It was a rare thing and I had to seriously consider when it was worth taking the pills in exchange for a good night's sleep, as I didn't get them often. It'd be at least half a year until the next opportunity. Damn Glint epidemic had the whole city running scared, vilifying even useful medicines. Date rape drug, they called this one. I mean, technically I was somewhat about to commit potential rape using it, but that was just me, not _everyone_who used it.

Nonetheless, I went to the drug store and was eventually given my medicine after waiting in line for what felt like hours. Given that it'd be the weekend soon, I wasn't in too much of a hurry to get home. Particularly since I had to clear my mind and decide if I actually wanted to go through with my fantasies. So I walked.

Really, if there's one thing that the city will instill into you it's a sense of nihilism. Any given time you go outside - even in the middle income areas like this - you'd see countless homeless beasts. Rats, bats, lazy raccoons who hadn't realized that everything was within their grasp if they _truly_wanted it, all with no purpose but a continued existence. Not life, existence. They'd cling to the frayed threads of continued biological function with few aspirations beyond that. Nihilism. That, and hedonism. The parts of the population who weren't homeless were busy seeking any pleasurable sensation they could when they weren't working to distract them from group #1. Drugs, of course, but also the other classic vices. Sex, gambling, videogames. Anything to get away from reality for a while. Only the upper class really had everything they wanted, and regardless of your species, you'd never get there. Not a raccoon, not a proud lion either, you were born into it or it was eternally out of reach.

So what was it, really, to society as a whole if I enjoyed one night with my ex, even if he wasn't aware to share in my joy? A small evil, like a drop of poison in a toxic ocean. It didn't matter. Nobody would be any worse off. At least, not on the grand scale of things.

When I got home, later, night was already falling. It came earlier and earlier each day. Not that I minded, I liked the darkness. My ancestors would've certainly preferred it, what with it being easier to steal food from bigger predators in the cover of night. Or whatever wild, feral raccoons did, I really wasn't an expert, but that was my chosen explanation for my preference. It wasn't that late, but I was dead tired. Given that I had the whole weekend to fix my schedule in time for work, I decided to hit the sack. The plan was that I'd have more energy to play with Keen if I went through with it, and although excitement like that would've normally kept me up, I was out like a light with how fucking terribly I slept the night before.

"?"

Huhwhat? I couldn't understand anything. The sounds weren't forming words in my mind. Fuck being asleep, and fuck being awake too.

"I said, are you sleeping?" Keen asked. Oh. He was looking at me with apparent genuine concern, as if I was on my deathbed. It probably didn't look great, me laying in the bed with clothes still on. I was grumpy about being roused awake, but I couldn't really be angry, not at those adorable brown eyes.

"I'm not feeling too hot," I improvised. "Probably the flu or something." I coughed demonstratively.

"Oh. Well, get better," he replied.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"It's midnight. I thought you were out partying, I was just going to get ready for bed, and found you here," the coyote answered.

I was still disoriented, which probably helped sell that I was actually sick. "Feeling a little better now though," I said as I stood up, stretching with a groan.

"I could make you something to eat if you'd like?" he offered, and I, ever the glutton, agreed.

And that'd give me a perfect opportunity to slip him one of the pills. I hadn't forgotten about that, of course. How could I ever? Only good ideas die young, the evil ones seem to live forever.

Like said before, we didn't hate each other. We were still friends, it's just that we'd split up and he was the kind of guy who only ever fucked his partner. That was the only reason I was even hesitating about this, because if he found out, we'd definitely not be friends anymore, and I'd lose him completely. That said, arousal is a powerful magnet for utter stupidity, and the risk of that happening seemed like a distant, astronomical possibility, like a day without spam in your mailbox.

I already found my cock swelling, my heartbeat quickening, as he went to the kitchen to throw together a quick meal. I found the box of sleeping pills in my pocket and popped one out of the blister pack. It was an unassuming little thing; white and anonymous.

He didn't make anything terribly complicated, just an omelette with a bit of ham and cheese in it, along with a portion for himself. He wasn't the kind of guy who'd leave you to eat alone, particularly not when sick. Very caring, empathic and all that. So even if he wasn't hungry, he'd keep you company to make sure you were alright and enjoyed his simple cooking. I cracked the pill into several little pieces between my claws, and as he turned around to fetch something to drink, I dropped the pieces into his piece of the omelette. They'd be obvious on closer inspection, but I knew he didn't really look at his food much, and the white blended in well enough with the egg.

Truth be told, I instantly regretted doing the deed. He was just such a nice coyote, and I did still love him, but there was no avoiding it now. If I started picking at his food I'd have to come up with ridiculous explanations as to why. Besides, I still wasn't committed. I could just let him sleep and he'd be none the wiser; the pills weren't very long-lasting, and he'd be right as rain the morning. So we ate together, while talking about this and that. Apparently he was dating someone else now, since a few days back, and although hearing that made my heart ache I suppressed the feelings.

Crunch. "Huh, I thought I..." he grumbled. "Sorry, there might be some shell left in it," Keen said, looking guilty. The look he gave me only made me feel even worse. I didn't feel like I was fully awake. Or rather, I was awake, but it felt like I was watching a movie about someone that wasn't me, a murderer stalking his victim, waiting for the poison to take effect before he struck. I'd never felt like that, a strange distance between my consciousness and my senses. I was slowly stuffing more of the egg and ham into my mouth, barely remembering that I also needed to chew and swallow. Gods, it was like my mind was rebelling against my body, and I found myself staring at the wall.What am I doing? Like I said, I was- am- a morally flexible kind of beast. But somehow this was entirely beyond the pale, far enough out that I could barely even_see_ myself out there in the deep dark beyond-

Keen yawned. He'd finished his special little meal. It wasn't the extra spices that made him yawn, he'd be naturally tired at this point, and the pills didn't work immediately either, and although they'd kick in soon, he'd still have to choose to go to sleep. But when he actually did, he'd crash pretty hard and stay under for a whole night.

"I'm gonna hit the sack," he said. "You gonna stay up all night?"

I snapped back into the present. "I think I'll sleep soon. I dunno, it's hard to say," I replied. My face was_burning_, like I had a fever. Was it excitement, shame or terror? I didn't know.

Keen stood up, leaving his plate on the table. He began to walk towards the bathroom, but then turned back. "Oh, I already brushed my teeth..." he mumbled. He must've been feeling the effects already. He looked at me again and wished me a good night, then promptly entered the bedroom, closing the door behind him, forgetting that he just ate something _after_presumaly brushing his teeth. I recognized that kind of forgetfulness, it happened rather easily if you didn't immediately go to bed after taking the damn pills.

I, on the other hand, was wide awake by then, and would be for the rest of the night. It'd be fun to stay up the following 24 hours, I knew that much, but right now I was too excited to really think about it, in the most shameful way possible.

I sat at the table, doing nothing in particular, for half an hour or so, listening for any sounds of Keen moving around. Probably overly cautious, but I really didn't want to start anything before I knew for sure that he wouldn't wake up. Soon enough, though, I could hear him snoring. That had to mean he was gone for the night, and cautious as I was, my cock was _aching_with how hard it was. It was hard to even believe that this depraved scenario I'd made up really turned me on that much, but there was no denying it.

So I stood up, opened the bedroom door with a trembling hand, and then stepped inside. In a fit of genius, I flashed the lights on and off a few times to see if the coyote would stir, but there was no reaction. He was laying on his back, sprawled out on his side of the bed, with his clothes still on. Satisfied that he wasn't going to interrupt me, I dimmed the lights to a more sensual level, and undressed without taking my eyes off Keen's resting form for longer than it took to pull my shirt off. He didn't seem terribly attractive right now, lying there completely passed out, with his tongue hanging from the corner of his mouth. Personally, I was very much into him, no matter how silly he looked.

I moved over to the bed and lay down next to him, my heart beating rapidly with excitement. Like some sort of pervert - which was probably an accurate impression - I leaned over and sniffed at his neck, taking in that musky canid smell. Ever so slowly, I pressed my body against his, until my cock was rubbing against his thigh, and I slipped a hand beneath his shirt, my fingers through that creamy, fluffy fur on his chest and belly. It almost felt like we were together again, and just for tonight, I allowed myself to pretend that was the truth. Luckily, he was wearing the dress shirt he usually wore for work, so I could just unbutton the front rather than struggling with getting it off and on again once I was done. Pulling off his pants, I felt like I was a kid on Christmas, unwrapping my gifts. He didn't even stir. Oh, it'd been _way_too long since I got to do this. He wasn't hard yet, but his plump sheath still filled out even his loose boxers in the most delicious-looking way. I placed my paw on that package, just feeling his warmth through the fabric, actually _trembling_with excitement at the chance of finally enjoying his body again, even if his attractive, sexy personality wasn't quite there right now.

Gingerly, I eased the boxers off too, fully revealing his maleness, sheathed as it was. I almost hesitated before my hand ended up top of it anyway, giving him a gentle squeeze, another hefting his balls. They felt rather full, which I assumed - although I have no idea if there's any science to it - meant he hadn't gotten off in a while. That in turn should mean he'd be quick to respond to my groping. So really, I was doing him a favor by giving him some relief, since he clearly hadn't gotten laid with his new date yet. I'd help him release those tensions and give him a nice stuffing of raccoon cum. Should get a medal of honor, with how altruistic I was being.

Well, I knew what I was doing, but there was no way I'd _not_do it, at that point. I pushed him onto his side.

Keen whimpered a little. A silent, muffled, adorable whimper brought onto by my gentle massaging of his package, trying to coax him into some wet dreams. One of finger slipped into his sheath, and I flicked his tapered cockhead a few times. Before I even know what I was doing I'd brought that finger up to my muzzle, smearing his musky sheathslime into my nose so I could constantly be breathing in that intoxicating scent. With some persistence, his growing erection was soon peeking out, his dark red cock sticking out like lipstick. I'd always found that really erotic, the first sign that I was actually turning him on. And there'd be so much more...

I ran a finger right under his tip - the spot he'd always told me was the most sensitive - moving it in small circular motions, as if polishing his length as it gradually swelled and hardened. I wondered if he was as pent up as I was, if he'd actually want this if I just dared suggest being friends with benefits. Probably not while he was awake, but right now, from how he was occasionally twitching, and those cute little whimpers and whines, he definitely did want it. At least his body did, and I was all too happy to oblige.

I squeezed some lube into the hand that wasn't busy stroking the sleeping coyote and used a couple of fingers to spread his cheeks, slipping a third between them, prodding for his puckered little tailhole. I was familiar enough with his body, so it didn't take long, even without having to look, and a singer slipped inside. His insides clung to it, the ring of muscle I was spreading squeezing down rightly, another little whimper escaping Keen's lips. Music to my ears. Soon, another finger joined that one. He didn't need much warm-up, being rather used to taking cock, mine in particular, and so he was flexible.

I couldn't wait any longer. With one hand still wrapped around his now rock-hard cock, I pressed my body against his in a spooning position, adjusting my curved maleness to slot right between those firm buttocks. He didn't even stir. A few gentle nudges later my tip was straining against his lubed up hole. He clenched a little in his sleep, but with how slicked up he was, it didn't help much; I slipped inside his body. He sleep-growled a little, trying to turn over onto his belly, but I was holding him firmly, clutching him to me like a feral male completely lost in a rut.

His warm, pliable insides felt heavenly around me, and I found myself gasping for air as I sunk deeper, my eyes tearing up from the intensity of the sensations. When was the last time I did this with him, anyway? With anyone? I was so pent up that every sensation was like a miniature orgasm, making me twitch and undoubtedly squirt a little more preseed into the insensate coyote. He was dripping too, I realized, as I flexed my fingers and found them sticky with strands of watery canine arousal, sticking between the digits in wet strands. I knew he'd like it. Even if he said he didn't want to stay together with me, his body was telling me the truth. With the way he was squirming, panting, cock positively drooling precum, how else was I supposed to read that except as "fuck me, please"?

That was, of course, exactly what I'd do anyway. My fingers dug into his fur as I began to thrust, hard, completely swallowed up by that dark, warm ocean of lust, instincts pressing me towards spilling my seed inside my mate and nothing else mattering. Just that primal act of breeding, the spirit of it no different even though we were both males. His body begging for my seed, squeezing and clenching at my length, and my body desperate to fill him with every last bit of cum that I could muster, to paint his insides white with thick, warm stickiness. That primitive dance had no other outcome; we'd long since passed the point of no return. And he'd be none the wiser when he woke up, except maybe think that he'd had a wet dream. Maybe a little soreness.

Imagining his date finally getting to bed and finding his ass already full of cum turned me on too. He'd think Keen was a total slut. Maybe we could share him. Or maybe the small canine would come back to me. It was just fantasies spurred on by the building pleasure pressure in my balls, of course. But right now, I was fucking him, and I was going to enjoy it as much as I could, even if it only lasted a minute or two longer. I was hilting myself into him with each thrust now, the whole bed shaking with each thrust. I felt like a fucking stallion, rutting my mare with mindless abandon.

Suddenly Keen moaned - a throaty, muffled moan, sounding more like an animal than a sentient being - and came. I grit my teeth to keep from moaning myself as his ass squeezed down around the base of my cock, and from the sudden sticky wetness coating my paw it was obvious he was climaxing, probably dreaming of sex. I suppressed another moan and then his rhythmic clenching brought me over the edge. I pushed as deep into the coyote's well-pounded rear and let myself go, grunting and huffing as my orgasm overtook me, and I came what felt like gallons into my ex, truly and properly seeding him. And he'd never even realize it. It felt so fucking good, and before I'd even stopped erupting thick gouts of cum into the depths of his insides, I realized that I'd do it again later.

I wiped excess cum off both of us after I was done, and it took quite a while, because he'd keep leaking globs of my spent seed after I withdrew, and I couldn't afford getting the bed all messy. I left his own cum where it had landed, he'd just think he had a wet dream. I took his clothes off entirely. Chances were he wouldn't remember that he went to bed with them on, and if he woke up clothed it'd beg the question of why his cum had splattered on the floor rather than being contained in his pants.

As the afterglow faded, an anxious feeling took its place. If he figured out what I'd done I'd be in such deep shit, probably going-to-jail level shit. But it'd felt so good that I knew I'd take the risk over and over again, regardless of what happened. I deserved to enjoy his body, what with him still living with me and all. Maybe one day he'd realize we belonged together...