Leviathans · WHAT in the Alleyway? · Bad Night Turned Good, and the Power of Blueballs
Heya everyone, Yes, this is a continuation of A Butterfly's Dream. This was the best way to go about it. And I apologize for the lateness, but most of this was written four months ago, it was just the sex scene that I just could not write, try as I might. So I have a proposal: I have problems writing the sex scenes, so I might post a journal asking for help, and if you're reading this and you might be interested, then watch me and check for new journals. Of course, "helping" me would likely entail some roleplaying with certain constraints. Possibly restraints, depending on what the scene requires. ;3 So also keep that in mind. Onto legalities, characters are copyright me, Timbe, and you should not be reading this if you are under eighteen. Or twenty-one. Or whatever the legal age is for that wherever you are. I would like to thank my editor Lucien, who can be found on here and FA. Check him out. :3 SO! That said, I hope you enjoy this story, and if you do then PLEASE vote and comment, especially comment, since I can always use help. Even if you don't like it tell me why. If you take0 the time to fap to this then surely you can take the time to comment. <3 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As badly as she needed the work, Fay just could not get herself excited about the interview she had lined up for one that afternoon. She had worked for some smarmy folks in the past, some very shady furs, but what she dug up on her current client was unsettling; absolutely nothing. Just a list a projects he headed and, she speculated, that he was some sort of spook, or had connections with some spooks that could wipe his entire life out of any public databases. That was fine. She had some connections of her own. That was part of being a good freelance journalist, after all; finding information you are not supposed to know. It was exciting, it was romantic, and it was dangerous in ways she knew she could not possibly fathom. Every so often in this business you hear about some reckless journalist digging too deep in any one story, only to find he had dug a hole so deep that it was easy to kick him in and bury him. To be sure it was easier to do that than to pay him off to not talk.
And journalists did just that, talk. Otherwise they could not really make a living.
It was six in the morning, the sun struggling to make its presence known in the early Winter skies, the fragmented light filtering through the skyscrapers looking like jagged teeth. Now twenty-four-years-old it was getting harder and harder for Fay wake up at these ungodly hours. The early bird may get the worm, but who wants a worm that is dumb enough to be awake now? That seemed like no fun.
Maybe she just did not fit into the mould? Or maybe it was that she complained too much? It was not as though she were the only one who had to go through the motions every day, though she supposed she technically did not have to, being freelance. It was the alternative of having to eat Spam™ off of a hubcap in an alley next to a grimy old man talking to the mothership hovering above LA with his shoe that put her off of sleeping in until four in the afternoon, which she would gladly do, given the opportunity. She stepped out of the shower and slipped on her blue bathrobe, a present from an ex she dumped not long ago. Sighing, Fay paced her apartment letting her hair air dry a bit before blow drying it. Her head filled with the same thoughts it always tended to when she performed this ritual: what will my next job be like? What about that date I have on tonight? And, most pressing of them all, where was he? This one always stopped her in her tracks.
The thought always loomed under the surface of her subconscious like a leviathan, ever present, waiting for the first toes of trepidation to to test the waters, only to drag down whosoever was foolish enough to go searching for the answers. And, like breaking the surface of freezing cold water and being pulled down into the depths, her entire being would become quite catatonic, her only thoughts of the day they were separated, and what was to become of them now.
She shook her head, breaking the leviathan's spell. Six fifty AM. She had more important things to worry about, she lied to herself, and pulled herself off of the couch she had migrated to in her thoughts and stalked her way back to the washroom to dry her hair. She had to look decent for this guy who was to be her client. What was his name, it was something completely ridiculous...Dicerag? She thought this was it, but she could very well have been wrong about that. Sebastian Dicerag. She felt for him, with that name. You could not even get a name like that if you were the antagonist in a fiction novella with a particularly evil author. Five minutes of hot air blasting at high speeds through her increasingly dry hair and she was ready to get dressed. She was not eager to deal with the tangles she likely had, and so put off brushing until later. Foxes usually had especially fine and silky fur, but for whatever reason the females in her family were not gifted with this trait. Verse got nice fur, why not her? Genes were a fickle Mistress.
Fay padded softly back down the hall a short ways to her room. Minimalistic yet functional. In her closet hung all of her clothes, just above her small bookshelf filled with various fiction authors and a couple out-of-print magazines which she had written for when she was still fresh in the industry. On the closet door was a full length mirror, which reflected a queen-sized bed, her working desk at its foot. The colour scheme was green pastels. Not terribly stylish, but she liked the colour so fuck you Home and Decor Digest you can keep your bloody tips to yourselves.
So, what would it be? Black denim jeans, she decided, and maybe a lilac T-shirt underneath her favourite leather bomber jacket. Simple yet professional. It was not cold enough out yet to warrant a heavy jacket, so why sacrifice style for the sake of a little bit of unnecessary warmth? It was always important in this line of business to leave an impression. Words were just words, but the air of those who write them was what got you repeat business. Though she wondered if she wanted such business from a man who, as far as public records went, did not exist. He might even have the power to destroy her existence as well. Frightening, but this seemed very likely.
She threw the towel onto her bed post, watching as it held for a moment before sliding down to land on her pillows. Shaking her head, she turned back around to her closet. A shelf of panties, socks and bras at waist height, waiting for her to pick what lucky piece of fabric would get to caress her womanly curves. Well, she was certain the socks were not clamouring to be first in line to be worn, but still, they should be so lucky to be part of the moment when she discovers something amazing. If she discovers something such as that, more like.
She could dream. And that she did as she slipped a pair of black panties up her thighs, resting comfortably on her hips. She stroked the fur on her stomach and whimpered. As much as she wanted to do something right now, she thought the released tension would come off as unprofessional. But then, when did sexual frustration ever become professional? That was something archaic for women, a relic from the time when the female orgasm was not even a myth, but something that was not even up for discussion. Her underwear on, she donned the rest of her clothes in silence, every so often glancing at the tiny digital clock on her desk. She really did need to stop getting caught up in her own head, she thought. It was almost quarter to eight by now, though it was not as though she had anything to do before their late-lunch meeting. She did have a good novel she enthusiastically looked forward to finishing. Well, enthusiastically being about as much as you could look forward to remaining stationary for hours on end with your eyes glued to yellowing paper. Everyone had their silly laptops to read stories on these days. No respect for the classics, either. Libraries all but deserted, save for a few older people who often forgot their own names.
Shit. Eight o'clock. How the hell did that happen?
She stood in front of her mirror a moment, gazing intently on her reflection. Had she put on weight? Not that anyone would complain, or even notice. This was the first morning she had not gone out for her usual morning jog, so she was in quite good shape, thankfully. The coming Winter months had her a bit concerned for her waistline, though. Still, in these clothes, most of which was quite small on her, she had to admit she looked fine. Her grocery shopping was done for the week, she had no other engagements to speak of, aside from her date that night, and she had a few new teas she wanted to try while she curled up with a book. With a plan set out for her, Fay felt unimaginably more confident, and with tea involved, she knew it was to be a wonderful morning. She only prayed that the afternoon proved to be just as fantastic.
And so she sat and read, sipping lavender earl grey tea, a Chopin piece playing softly in the background.
They were to meet at a small café not far from central downtown. From there, whiffs of fresh bread baking mingled with idling car fumes, buffeted about on a wind caused by the skyscrapers all about. The streets were often windy because of this. Just walking to the café felt as though she were falling face first toward the ground, an infinite distance away, the people walking past her defying gravity just to get to wherever they were going. It showed remarkable fortitude on their parts.
Town hall and the police station were situated equidistant between her apartment and the designated meeting place. One an architectural masterpiece, the other a localized outbreak from a post-Armageddon movie. Obviously, city hall was much less worse for wear, what with all the revenue of the city going through the place. Fay smiled to herself weakly, looking around. That was how things were. No need to get existential, or complain about how immorally unjust the world was. Though sometimes it did help to blow off some steam.
Despite it not being cold enough for snow to stick, all of the tables and chairs that were normally in front of restaurants lining the streets this time of year were nowhere to be seen. It was unfortunate, really; she did so look forward to sitting outside in the cold with a big mug of tea. Nothing comforted her more these days than turning off the heat to her apartment, getting a blanket and a book and keeping an ever-boiling kettle within arm's reach.
The street the café was situated on was completely deserted, aside from three children playing in the streets, shifting their games off to the side whenever the few sparse cars that were using this side street this time of day came trundling through. As Fay passed she glanced forlornly back at them, wincing subconsciously as she recalled the incident all those years ago. She wanted to go back, oh God did she ever, but this was how things were, how they had to be. The leviathan was just waiting for her to start with the would haves, could haves, should haves. Outside the streets were dead, but the café was alive with a handful of conversations, becoming a chorus over top of a jazz pianist's manipulation of her instrument off in the corner. Places like this were a positive change from her usual clientèle's dives; bars and pubs, back alleys, back seats, hotels. This Dicerag guy must have had some class, but that made her that much more wary.
"...Madame?" a voice pulled her out of her thoughts, "We have a seat for you by the window. Will you be eating alone or are you expecting company?"
Company...That word sounded nice. Vague. It was a very convenient word, to be sure. "...Yes, would you please set the table for two?" Fay put on her best behaviour, as her mother used to tell her and her brother to do whenever they had guests. The waitress nodded, and whisked her away to one of the only available tables left in the place and, as instructed, set it for two. As an afterthought she asked for a bottle of white wine, whatever they recommended.
The faux-antique clock on the wall behind the closed bar read one in the afternoon. Fay shifted awkwardly in her seat, chancing a glance out the window. Dicerag should be there any moment, though she wondered if he was going to pull that "fashionably late" shit to give himself an inflated sense of self-importance. That was how clients usually asserted their power, they make you wait to give the impression that you're taking up their valuable time, and force you to work under their usually quite ludicrous terms. Five past one, a grubby-looking brown car pulled in front of the café and parked, somewhat awkwardly, alongside the curb. A moderately well-dressed man, a lupine, stepped out of the driver's seat and, with a vague sort of disdain one acquires from working in a world where appearances were more than a little important, flattened any wrinkles his clothes may have accrued over the course of his journey. Fay would have pulled her eyes away and went back to worrying about her coming meeting, but there was something oddly comforting about the man and his attention to his clothes.
Sighing, she rested her chin on her arm, her head tilted as she watched him enter the café as discreetly as possibly. He looked like a bedroom programmer who, at the thought of real work and real hours, felt exceptionally tired. His fur looked as though it has not been trimmed properly since the days of the Trudeau administration, adding to his air of seclusion. As he approached the waitress, he gave her a lopsided smile and said something inaudible from where Fay sat. The waitress shifted her weight from one leg to the other, either uncomfortable or embarrassed, and motioned vaguely toward Fay's seat. The look the man fixed her with was something she was not soon to forget. Deep blue eyes fixed on hers. She would have cringed if she did not feel like she were being pulled toward him with the subtle force of, say, a hurricane. His awkward smile turned to a wide grin, and he strode with a confidence she did not think he could muster to her table where he plunked himself down across from her.
In all this Fay did not remove her chin from her hand, maintaining her posture through his parading about, and following him only with her eyes. She realized with an internal start that she must look tired, and it was probably very rude of her to seem that way. With focused intent on looking professional, he straightened her back deliberately, neither too fast - like she had made some sort of mistake - or too slow - as if she had downed a bottle and a half of NyQuil™ only half an hour prior to his arrival. She exhaled silently through her nose, and attempted her own gaze, trying to impress upon him the fact that she too was confident, and that she was not intimidated in the least. When in actuality his calm, self-possessed demeanour was so disconcerting she wanted to shit her pants.
They spent a time just looking at each other, invisible signals, totally incomprehensible to her, passing between them like two infrared devices attempting to communicate some vital pieces of information, only to have something lost in translation. The transmissions would be interrupted very seldomly by their blinking, and Fay wondered what sort of impression she was leaving on him. Already she knew what hers was of him, but it was still very unnerving to stare so intently on someone else as if sizing the other up for dinner.
Maybe the word dinner was the only thing that got across through their silent communications, because the lupine sat bolt upright and, with the pride of a small child using the toilet for the first time, proclaimed, "I'm hungry!"
His voice sounded childish, pubescent, as though it might crack at any moment. It was hard for Fay not to giggle at the thought of him as a small child pretending to be an adult, but she forced herself to maintain her composure. She still had reason to be vary wary of him, and had the looming feeling that something like the hand of God rested atop his lap, just waiting to pick her up and throw her into his mouth. Now was probably a good a time as any for introductions, Fay thought. She gave a polite smile, one that she tried to make reach her eyes, and offered her paw across the table, "Hello. My name is Fay. Fay Lafiri. I'm assuming you're Mr. - "
"I really hate my last name, just call me Seb," he cut her off, his expression flickering not even an iota, but taking her paw nonetheless, "Let's get some food before we start talking, shall we?"
The tension Fay felt dispersed somewhat, thinner in the air, but still had the force to suffocate her should she let it. She leaned back in her chair, letting her muscles relax, "Right, of course." She hated the tactic of agreeing to everything her potential employer said, but thought it safer than saying she was not terribly hungry for fear of upsetting him.
The waitress came back around and took their orders. For him a Caesar salad with chicken, extra bread on the side, for her whatever the soup of the day was. Probably some variant of chicken noodle. The wine she had ordered arrived shortly after, and they sipped it waiting for their meals. It was something called Fish Eye. Not a terribly appealing name, but considering its price she could overlook that. It was actually not that bad, and Fay committed its name to memory. "May I ask your thoughts on a few things?" Seb asked about two thirds of his way into the glass in front of him.
Fay thought this somewhat odd, not knowing how to answer. It was her job to research and report, not "share her thoughts." Though she did do some speculation from time to time in her articles, she did not feel enough of an authority on anything for her thoughts to be valid beyond that. The pause was growing longer, and she realized she must seem rude, "...Alright. I'll answer to the best of my ability, if I can at all."
Silence hung in the air, a wet blanket made entirely of empty motes, and Seb made to finish his glass of wine. Fay followed suit, downing her half glass, and regretted it immediately. Her stomach retched and convulsed, and almost seemed to demand of her just what she was doing throwing such poison into it. She ignored it like a passerby ignores a spasming autistic, and poured both he and herself another glass.
"Ah, thank you very much...And I apologize for being late," and he truly did sound apologetic as he brought the glass under his nose, inhaled for a moment, and went on to sip it with a refinement that surprised Fay. Fay shook her head, "It's alright. I'm sure you had a business meeting to attend to." She was playing right into his hand, if his plan really was to devalue her time.
He took one more sip before replying, "Hmm? Oh, no. I was looking for a dark alley to masturbate in. There are a lot of empty streets this time of day but few really dark and secluded alleyways."
Did she hear him wrong? "Um...by masturbate you mean...?" She made a loosely gripped fist in the air and made a jerking motion with it, then looked around to see if anyone saw her making such a lewd gesture.
"Yeah, why, what did you think I meant?" he smiled, and Fay knew she now had another reason to fear the hand that rested on his lap.
How was she supposed to respond to this? Was this some sort of test of character? If that were the case then all this would make sense, he did seem eccentric enough to do something like that. Still, it made her even more wary of her situation, and begin to develop a keen dislike for Dicerag. Whether or not he was toying with her, she knew at this point that she would not like him. "...Nothing, nevermind. Anyways, you wanted my thoughts?" If anything she could try to veer the conversation in a more comfortable direction; her thoughts certainly were more comfortable to talk about than masturbation.
Seb shrugged, "Alright, alright...Just so you know, it's guaranteed that you'll get this job. I had you in mind when I decided to do this little...project, of sorts. Don't feel you have to tell me what you think I want to hear, like you have done thus far, okay?"
He saw right through her, "...Yes, okay...But what do you mean you had me in mind?"
"You've done research on me. I know that. You want to know how I know that?" Fay gave a non-committal nod, knowing she likely was not going to like the answer, "You're not the only one who has connections. But you knew that already. I also happen to know why you took up this particular line of work."
The large gulp of wine Fay had taken to calm her nerves now caught uncomfortably in her throat, the acid stinging her vocal cords. She spluttered and coughed, swallowing what she could, a small dribble of wine dripping from the corner of her mouth. Who the hell was this guy to know that much? But if he really did and this was not a bluff, then he clearly had a reason to bring this up. "...Terms," Fay muttered, defeated.
The lupine shrugged, "Terms? No, this has nothing to do with terms or anything. I want you to know how serious I am about you doing this job, and I want you to know why you are not only the only person who can pull this off well, but the only one who can pull it off period." Having finished his glass, he poured himself another, draining the bottle, "You have a solid reason to be doing this. That's a given. You need to find him, but you lack the income or the resources to pour all your energy into it." He paused for a moment, as if mulling this over, then smiled sheepishly, a look that did not suit a wolf at all, "I suppose there are terms. Huh."
Fay thought he must be some sort of idiot. However, he was an idiot in a position of power. Maybe it was true that the dumber you are, the more likely you are to be in such a position. "...You want to give me the ability to do what I want to do? I'm assuming in exchange for doing whatever you want me to do for you."
"Yes, yes, but that all comes later, I still need to impress upon you why it is you were chosen for this. Aren't you the least bit curious?" "Because it's easy to extort someone like me?" Fay chanced a guess, still unsure of the kind of person she was dealing with, knowing only, deep down, that if she were to meet him on the street and he were to start talking like this, she would have to introduce his head to the curb.
At this his smile faded, "Fay, I'm not your enemy here. You're making me out to be one. Relax. You just happen to have what I need, and I have what you need. Let me explain why I chose you," he called the waitress over and ordered two more bottles of the same wine, "Given the choices to die slowly and painfully or quickly and painlessly, what would you choose?"
Weren't these questions supposed to come after the food arrived? Fay thought before giving his question any thought. Really though, she did not have to think at all about it. The answer was clear as day, and now so too was why she was supposedly chosen for this job, "...I have a lot of work, a lot of catching up to do. You know my answer. At least if you know that if you die slowly, the pain becoming increasingly worse, that every day you wake up will be the best of your last. Now tell me about this job you want done." The waitress returned with a coworker, one with the wine and the other with their food. All the suspense and tension was beginning to wear on Fay, and at the sight and smell of their meals she felt a twang of hunger in her stomach. She may not like the man in front of her, but she did have to have a grudging appreciation for how he did things, even if she did not agree with them completely.
All Seb did was smile as the food was placed in front of them. He looked like a fortune teller watching his predictions work out exactly as he had foreseen. When the waitresses retreated, he poured them both another glass each. "You know..." he started, his fingertips trailing the rim of his glass, "This isn't the sort of job you've ever done before. It may seem like just another boring topic to write an article about, but I can assure you that, beneath all that, there's something bigger happening."
Something bigger? That sounded like just some convenient term furs threw around when they had next to no idea of what the fuck what going on, like they were only somewhat aware of the leviathan under the surface. It could devour you whole. Then she thought that this was a perfect way to describe something such as this. There was something unseen waiting underneath everything that had the ability to consume an entire fur's soul. It was not just something vague to say, it was the truth, and Dicerag knew just as little about this leviathan as Fay knew about her own. The situations, the way she would sympathize, her reasons, her reactions...He was well aware of all this. It pissed her off more than anything, but her interests had been sufficiently piqued.
"...Alright, Seb. Let me get one thing straight here. I'll take this job, but let me tell you, we are not going to be friends. All we have to do is get along. You give me the resources, and I'll give you your story. Deal?"
His grin grew yet wider, a feat which Fey thought impossible, "Deal. Now, what do you know about InfoCaching?"
InfoCaching is the hobby of collecting discarded pieces of paper with seemingly random fragments of information on them. Pictures, lists, reminders, notes, anything along those lines. The job in question, Seb had told her, was to look into this pastime, and give him a report on it that may potentially be turned into a story for a magazine startup. Only thing is, Seb wanted a particular story, to find what was underneath all of that, as he had put it. He was convinced that there was something there, but none of his own employees could find anything interesting. He had just found a hot lead, and wanted to be sure that things did not get "fucked up and stupid," as he had put it after their fourth shared bottle.
She was to go to the police station and follow up an interesting death, a seemingly unrelated incident, but if she gauged Seb correctly, if he had any reason to believe something, it was quite likely true. Investigating a murder was not something she could easily handle, she did not think. However, the two hundred thousand dollars now in her bank account assured her that Seb had confidence in her, so now all she needed was some confidence in herself.
Sitting in her living room, she recalled the day's events to her date, omitting certain occurrences, like his masturbating in the alleyway, the money and mention of her brother. She could not imagine him being terribly interested in her day, since they only really dated for sex, not for any sort of mutual understanding that did not involve their nether regions. After her lunch meeting however, she decided to cut off all ties with him. She simply did not think she would have the time for that sort of thing, and with the potential to find him again...Well, she did not need any complications. "...Okay...That's nice and all..." Fern said, legs splayed on the couch, his arms behind his head in a poor attempt to look seductive, "...But are we ever gonna go at it?"
Fay was afraid that all rabbits were this way, but then she preferred an over-sexed bunny to one who muttered random things to himself. Still, every night they got together was like this. Some days she did not mind, others she just wanted to talk after a bad day, and did not want to cancel her plans with him. Sex as therapy might sound like a good idea, but...Who was she kidding? That kind of therapy was counter-productive, self-destructive.
Sighing, Fay paced the room, trying to find a way to soften the blow. Not that he would care all that much, he had at least two other furs in his supposed harem. Probably where his cockiness came from. Now that she thought about it, he was an arrogant asshole. Just thinking that made the words come out much easier, "...Fern. I don't want to do this anymore," she said simply in the hopes that he would piece things together on his own. Fern tilted his head, apparently getting the message quite clearly, "...I didn't have to come here, you know. I could have been with anyone else tonight."
There was that attitude that Fay had come to abhor, "Then go off and fuck any one of them. I don't need this shit right now. I'm sorry to have wasted your precious time telling you in person, but I guess I was wrong in assuming you would appreciate hearing this in person more than on the phone."
Silence. Fern looked as though he were deeply contemplating something, but that could not possibly be right, Fay thought to herself. Despite the gravity of the situation she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. There was not anything he could possibly do, he would just have to accept it and leave.
That night she would come to realize how wrong she was. When Fern spoke again, his tone was as crystalline and cold as black ice, "If you had called I could be fucking Ratchel right now. And now I'm stuck with a stupid bitch who doesn't know how lucky she's got it, having me here," at this he stood up and almost floated to where Fay stood next to the doorway to the kitchen and pinned her against the wall, "I guess I'll just have to show you just what you'd be missing out on, now won't I? I'll get my nightly dose of fucking, whether you like it or not." Of course Fay could kick his ass so hard that it would be more comfortable to sit on his testicles instead, but she did feel a modicum of guilt rise in her throat. She closed her eyes, keeping her tone level, "...Fine. I won' let you rape me, but this is the last fucking time, and I assure you..." she jerked her left leg muscles up in the general area of his crotch, causing his grip to loosen considerably, "I will NOT enjoy it."
When she had finished her piece, Fern fell backwards, barely able to maintain his balance. He whimpered quietly out of the corner of his mouth, and it seemed as though his ego had been sufficiently deflated, much to Fay's pleasure. Chances are it was to be the only real pleasure she got out of the night, "...Fff..Just like a woman to hit a man where it hurts..."
Fay pulled herself away from the wall, unwrinkling her shirt where he had grabbed her, and shot back, mockingly, "Just like a man to think he's hot shit when he's only cold diarrhoea. I don't sympathize with cockbites, now pull yourself together so we can get this shit over with, then you can let that bitch Ratchel make you feel better down there with her tongue. Seems the only thing she's good at after all." Not a word was said between them after that. Fay led Fern to her room, a familiar path for him by now, and shut the door behind them. The final definitive thud of wood on wood was reminiscent of a judge's gavel, and she knew, in a moment of clarity that always followed after a naive decision, that this was the most naive she has made in a long time. Of course it probably was not going to be her last, as long as she was going to be working under Seb.
They removed their clothes with little ceremony. The flair that Fern usually put into this simple act was no longer there, and was replaced by a sense of obvious discomfort coming from the general area of his crotch. Of course his erection had been visible since Fay had started telling him about her day, but it seemed now that what they were about to do was neither an act of love nor passion; he had something to prove, either to her or himself, she did not know, and was about to carry out this act with all of the spite his little body could muster.
She may not have wanted this, per say, but she did need some sort of release, to be sure. However, she reprimanded herself, it was those sorts of thoughts that got her into messes like this to begin with. As they stood naked in front of her bed, awkward expressions on their faces, Fay came to the sudden lucid realization that she did not need anyone that was not Verse. When this was all over, she and her brother would live quietly away from anyone and anything that could possibly hurt them. It was that resolve that kept her from kicking Fern squarely where it hurt once again. Once she got this over with, she would not have to speak with him again if she did not have to and, she told herself firmly, there was never a time when she needed to at all. It was all a series of moments of weakness that led her to him, it figures now that she did not feel the need to rely on him that he would get offended like this. At the very least she owed it to him for putting up with her childish line of thought in seeking him out.
Fay closed her eyes momentarily, collecting herself. If she was to do this then she had best make a good show of it. She made her way to the edge of her bed, opened her eyes and sat down as sensually as she could manage. Her legs crossed, she leaned back on her arms, her nipples pointing to the corner of the room where wall and ceiling met, and put on her best "fuck me" face.
His reaction was instantaneous. His slightly-larger-than-average-sized erection jumped, and his expression changed to one of pained anticipation. You can hurt a male's pride, but it would take an armoured tank who's artillery consisted of heat-seeking garden sheers and PMS'ing women to even scratch his libido. It took no time at all for him to get over the blow to his ego and make his way over to her, ready to have his way with her for what he knew and she could only hope would be his last time. From where she sat Fay got what would be considered a nice view of a very desirable member, if not for the fact that it was attached to someone she considered absolutely repulsive. Still, she had to admit, and this she blamed on her lack of sexual stimulation, that she did want him inside of her. She gave in to him, letting him place his paws on her shoulders, his lips pressed firmly against hers. Their eyes closed, they let their tongues explore each others mouths, although he seemed to relish this far more than he usually did.
Just as Fay was getting into the mood, starting to think she might enjoy the night after all, Fern's weight shifted and he pushed her down onto the bed, his left paw tracing her collarbone, then down her chest to fondle her breast. In all of this their lips did not break, and she gasped into his mouth, her eyes opening ever so slightly. The look he was giving her was one of utter contempt, a look she was quite used to in her business, but the intensity of his gaze totally threw her off. It reached deep down into her soul, paralysing her. His mounting hatred was becoming palpable, and it left a sour, bitter taste in her mouth. He smirked, and spread Fay's legs with his own. Still, she could not find the will to move, a dark, quiet fear gripping her throat. Even though she looked at this logically, and knew she had no reason to be frightened, she was. Never had she been on the receiving end of this level of hatred, the only comparable enmity being from her parents.
The grip on her breast tightened and she whimpered, wiggling feebly beneath him. She was shocked to realize that she was trembling, her muscles feeling as though they had succumbed to necrosis, no longer existing as something useful and only waiting to be expelled from her body. Slowly he pulled his lips away from hers, their eyes following each other's. It was like an irresistible spell, and she was slowly losing all power over the situation.
When he was satisfied at her reaction, Fern moved his muzzle to her neck, nibbling first, then biting roughly with no build up to speak of. She gasped and tilted her neck, trying to make him move away in the only way she could manage. What was stopping her from moving? His member brushed her inner thigh, and she knew what was coming next from those cheesy pornos he sometimes made her watch with him to get them "in the mood." Then, something snapped inside of her. All of her systems kicked in, and in overdrive. As he was about to penetrate her sex she sat up sharply, gasping, catching her breath; whatever he had done to her made her completely unaware of her lack of oxygen until that moment. This took the rabbit by surprise, who fixed her with the same look as before, only this time there was a visible apprehension that coincided with it.
Maybe it was going to be a good night after all.
Fern fell backwards on his knees, his arms keeping him from being in a rather uncomfortable position, which did not much matter to Fay, as she was about to introduce him to a world of hurt. The look plastered to Fern's face was as devoid of emotion as a vegetable having his plug pulled, but his brain processing and trying to catch up to what just happened could be seen behind his eyes, and it was about to lose a lot more ground.
It took Fay only an instant to right herself completely on her bed. With one fluid moment she slipped off the side of her bed onto her feet and, using that little momentum, shot her foot out and kicked Fern squarely in the face. The sound his nose made as it broke, along with the wetly hollow sound of slightly insulated bone crashing against more slightly insulated bone, reminded Fay of a watermelon wrapped in a wet towel being hit with a hammer. It brought her back to her last trip to the beach with her family, where they did just that to open up an overpriced watermelon they had bought. Her mother heard that that was what they did in Japan, and so getting on that bandwagon she had decided they all had to do the same thing. Despite the obvious force of the impact, Fern hardly moved at all, swaying ever so slightly, his expression unchanged. Fay rubbed her foot where it came in contact with his face, somewhat sore now. Then, in a very comical way, the rabbit slumped over, blood pooling on the carpet around his now quite large nose. His long ears and tail twitched, his breathing shallow. Just another mess to clean up.
He was, Fay noticed with a little disappointment, not deceased. And, judging from the pace at which his rate of breathing increased, he likely was not going to be any time soon, unless she finished the job right here and now. But no, that was not her intention. He would leave her alone now, to be sure. Crumpled up with her clothes by the end of her bed was her cell phone, and in those moments while Fern regained his composure, she called the police, who promised to be there in fifteen minutes or less.
Too bad they did not deliver pizza, Fay thought, as she sat back down on her bed, poking the not-corpse of Fern with her foot. There was absolutely no way he would be mobile by the time the police made their way over here, and with Fern as out of it as he was, and her more than a little turned on despite telling herself she would not be, she found herself touching her body quite inappropriately, given the situation. It was very unlike her to do anything so spiteful, but Fay felt, in this particular case, she could make an exception.
She made a show out of spreading her legs, the fur around her sex a little moist, matted down and had a little more lustre to it than the rest of her fur. Though Fern was out cold, the thought of his expression, were he to see her now, her fingertips just grazing her sensitive flesh, and him being able to do anything about it was satisfying on many levels. Was she allowed to think of him in this situation? She decided she was not, and instead just gazed at her crotch, her fingers now making a wet slishing sound as they penetrated her tender folds ever so slightly. Ever since her short fling with her old friend Blue, she had a thing for watching girls masturbate. Since she was the only girl on hand, watching herself was the next best thing.
She leaned back onto the bed, thinking how horribly lewd all this was, and what would happen were the police to bust in the door thinking it was a "situation." Thankfully she was rarely ever vocal when she orgasmed, much to her partner's annoyance. Still, she could not help the small squeaks that fought their way from her throat, her index and middle fingers now worming their way inside of her up to the first knuckle. It had been a while, to be sure, but surely she could not be this desperate to get off? Apparently she could be, as the wet sounds continued to get louder, and more wet-sounding. She arched her back a little, her chest raising but a few inches, her breasts gravitating to her waiting paw. Slowly she took her left breast in her left paw, her right still doing its work downstairs. Her fingers eagerly began to push and pull in and out of her sex, her inner walls clamping down on them hungrily.
Fay thought she could hear Fern moan on the floor, but saw no movement. Unable to see anything above his torso, she was unsure whether or not he was actually watching her lewd display. What did it matter? She thought, her fingers delving deeper into herself, her fingertips curled upwards to brush her g-spot. The police would be here any moment, and if he were to awaken, they would probably knock him right back out again. No, she decided, rolling her nipple between her thumb and index finger, a short gasp escaping her lips, it was of little import.
Kneading her breast gently, the vixen strained the paw working her sex, trying to spread her lips with her thumb and ring finger so as to achieve a deeper penetration. This proved to be exceedingly ineffectual, resulting not only in a distinct lack of pleasure, but also a cramp that lead her to switching paws. The upside to this was now she had a paw to spread her lips, and could easily reach those trickier areas inside of herself that she knew would set her off in minutes. The downside was that now her breasts were being ignored. In her line of work she often wished for more arms so she could take several sets of notes. Now, she wanted them solely to fuck herself silly with.
Being right-pawed and using her left added a new dimension to her pleasure. She was clumsy, but not unfamiliar with doing such activities with her off paw. If she focused most of her attention on fantasizing about someone else being there, she could picture it as being their hand. This, however, took her mind off of her fingers burrowing ever so deeper with each pistoning of her paw, and she had even ignored her thumb on her cramped paw circling her clit, slick with her wetness.
Abandoning any idea of fantasizing, Fay focused entirely on finishing herself quickly before the police could arrive. Squirming a little on her bed, she relished the feeling of sheets on fur, wondering why even the slightest, mundane touch could feel so wonderful when you were being stimulated the way she was. Her back lifted off of her bed once she had gotten her fill of this sensation, and her fingers wiggled quickly in the hopes of speeding up the process. Toes curling into the carpet, Fay could feel her approaching orgasm, see it on the horizon, a wave growing steadily larger as it encroached upon the shore of her body. Head tilted back, eyes shut tight, mouth agape and tongue lolling about as she panted, she willed herself to jump headfirst into that wave, wanting that release but hating that it would have to be so rushed. She moved her right paw up so she could give her clit the same treatment as her nipple, pinching and rolling it between her fingers, her back arching spasmodically. Relinquishing control of the muscles in her vagina, she let them contract fitfully around her digits. Closer and closer she got to that wave, could feel its crest towering over her, dripping onto her head.
Only to be interrupted by a loud knocking on her door, followed by agitated yelling, the words forming barely coherent sentences in Fay's pleasure-addled mind.
Her paws slowed their ministrations, then stopped entirely, a guttural whimper on her lips. It took a moment to collect herself, and call out that she was fine, and that the door was unlocked, though she made no attempt to hide her contempt for the uniformed furs. Of course they had a bad reputation for taking their sweet bloody time, so when she wanted them to show up late, they miraculously knock on her door, and "in fifteen minutes or less." Consistency was the only thing she begged of the world.
Wrapping herself in the bathrobe from that morning, which hung conveniently on the doorknob of her closet, she made her way to her living room, seeing the police had already entered. Fay felt like one of those ladies that often appeared on television whenever something bad went down, still in their bathrobe, repeating the same phrase over and over, "Well I don't know just what happened, officer," while being bombarded with concerns for her health and safety, most of which were as genuine as the words "I love you" from Fern, who still lay unconscious in her room.
One of the police took off his jacket, a canine, a collie, and wrapped it, rather unnecessarily, around her, over her bathrobe. He smiled at her, not in any way fake, nor in that condescending way cops tend to have of smiling at you. The officer seemed honestly happy that she was okay, and she, in turn, felt honestly grateful as he guided her to her couch and sat her down.
Three other police officers had accompanied him into her residence, but they were all off milling about in the general direction of her bedroom. The officer whose jacket she was wearing sat opposite her on a cheap recliner she bought from Ikea a month or so prior. He told her to relax, and let her nerves settle before he asked her about anything that transpired. She assured him she was fine, and to go ahead and ask whatever he needed of her. It took a little over an hour to completely explain her situation. Well, not quite completely, as she left out the part of her masturbating after the whole affair had been through. That seemed to be the theme for the day, she thought to herself with a smile, omitting the parts about masturbation. It always made for an awkward situation afterwards.
When they had finished, the other three police had left already with a handcuffed and now-awake and thoroughly-pissed Fern between them. From the corner of her eye Fay could see him shoot the dirtiest of looks in their direction, and she, out of spite, merely closed her eyes and shrugged, knowing full well that her passive attitude after the fact would annoy him to no end.
They reached the door, and the three furs conversed for a moment before two left with Fern, one staying behind and walking over to them, "...Seems he was high on some drug, likely 'Blueballs'."
"'Blueballs'?" Fay asked, her head tilted.
"Some kids fucked around with ecstasy in some garage somewhere," the canine told her, drawing her attention back to him, "came up with something new. Same sorta effects, with a few...notable differences." "If the user doesn't get sex, then they become extremely aggressive, even more so than those who use regular E," this was the other officer, a lupine. Both of them seemed far too tired to be doing much talking, but it was probably in their job description, "plus, it does something to your eyes...I don't know the reason exactly why, but the chemicals released with sexual frustration mess with the chemicals from the drugs, weird imbalance, and, um..."
"...And their pupils dilate weirdly, rapidly...And the chemicals find their way to the irises, and they reflect light, even minute amounts of it," Fay was beginning to wonder when this had turned into an episode of CSI, or some other marginally popular science crime-drama, "and when other furs see it, it can induce a sort of paralysis which, judging from your story, was exactly what happened."
And all Fay could think was, what a stupid fucking name for a drug.
Fay shifted on her couch, and made to get up, "That's...interesting," she managed, feeling suddenly quite tired, "Thanks for the help tonight, I didn't really feel like ripping his balls off." The lupine smiled for what Fay could have easily taken for the first time that day, "And I bet you didn't feel like explaining that one in court."
"Not at fucking all," Fay replied, exasperated, but not without a smile, "Is there anything else I can do for you gentlemen?" She asked, handing the jacket back to the collie.
After his jacket was returned, the officer on her recliner stood up, "No, not tonight...Once this is all processed we may need you, but I think we definitely have something to work with. Are you alright here alone though?"
"Yes, I should be...Can't imagine him coming back anytime soon," she paused, then chuckled, "and it's not as though he has the personality that would draw a lot of friends who might help him out in any way."
At this both officers laughed, "No, that's for sure," the lupine said.
Fay saw them to the door, and bowed curtly, but graciously and they, awkwardly, did the same. They said their goodnights, but just as Fay went to close her door, a thought struck her so hard her entire body froze mid-action. A situation, a voice, a question came back to her, reaching from the depths of her subconscious, buried under all the garbage that had accumulated that day. And after a moment, she called the police back, who had made their way down the hall a few meters. What else could she do? She repeated the question. "...What do you guys know about InfoCaching?"
The smiles that had lingered on the two long arms of the law instantly faded. They shot each other flustered looks, now seemingly upset, and she wondered if she had said something to offend them. All of them stood clumsily in the hallway, the officers seeming to share a language consisting only of looks and which only officers understood. Was that what they taught the police in their academies?
Finally, the canine spoke, "...Would you come by the office tomorrow morning? Just tell them your name and that we're expecting you."
The two shared one last look, then nodded back at her before walking away, leaving Fay standing there wondering just what the hell had happened.