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Something was wrong, Ivar knew it before he was even fully awake. The wind was blowing in their direction, carrying with it a faint but undeniable smell.

He rose from the den they had laid in, taking care not to wake the still-sleeping cheetah, and he huffed the air. There were three men close by. He picked up the dusty scent of a jackal, the strong reek of a hyena and a more muted odor he couldn't identify. It was not as pungent or wild as the others, but it hinted at a strong predator.

"What's wrong?" Rassa asked, rubbing his eyes, when the wolf shook him out of sleep and grabbed him by the arm.

"Someone is coming this way," Ivar replied tersely, "We need to find the road."

They made their way silently through the woods, their nude bodies slinking quietly between the slim trunks and their feet falling noiselessly on the soft turf. Anguish was visible on Rassa's face. In spite of the physical discomforts of the past few days he had enjoyed the thrill of adventure; but now that danger was drawing closer he was no longer so sure. "Who are they?" he asked without stopping.

"Other slaves," the wolf replied, shooting a quick glance behind him. "They must have followed our tracks."

"But how could they know?"

"The dog we left behind must have told them," Ivar was increasingly nervous. The scent was growing stronger, indicating that they were being pursued.

"But we spared his life," the cheetah cried out, "He wouldn't..."

"How can you be so naive? Of course he would. You did everyone a great service by leaving him alive," the wolf snapped angrily.

He immediately regretted yelling at his friend. In truth he was mostly angry at himself. He had had plenty of opportunities to send the young man to safety but he had selfishly refused to part from him, and now they were both in danger.

"Go on ahead," he commanded, realizing that they could not shake off their pursuers, "Don't stop until you come across a road. You're bound to run into a patrol."

"But what about you?"

"I will catch up with you later. Now go."

The cat opened his mouth to protest, but the look in his friend's eyes left no room for arguing. With a last glance of tender concern he turned around, his gracile form slinking through the trees before disappearing. Ivar stood still for an instant, listening to the fading rustle of the departing cheetah, then shook his head sadly, wondering if he would ever see him again.

The men were close behind now, but the way their smells came to him made him realize that they had split up, perhaps to cover more ground. He had a chance to tackle them one by one, he thought. Retracing his steps furtively, he crouched behind a thick bush on the edge of a small clearing and waited. Soon enough, the snapping of the undergrowth warned him that a first pursuer was approaching, and a few seconds later a jackal came in sight, looking nervous and clutching a knife tightly in his paw. The wolf tensed his sinewy muscles, waited until his prey came within easy reach and leaped, crashing into the smaller canine with fangs bared. Before the hapless jackal could so much as scream or raise his weapon in defense Ivar bashed his head against a tree trunk, knocking him out cold. The jackal crumpled to the ground, blood dripping from his temple to stain his sand-coloured fur.

Ivar jumped to his feet and wheeled just as the second man emerged from the thick vegetation. The burly hyena was about the same height as the wolf, with short bristling hair, strong knotted limbs and a muscular, toil-hardened body that was naked but for a tight loincloth. His hand grasped a chopping-axe, and his fist tightened around the handle when his gaze fell on the scene in front of him. He stared at the unmoving body with uncomprehending eyes, then at the wolf who stood next to it, and his expression changed from bewilderment to wild rage. Brandishing his weapon, he rushed headlong at Ivar with a roar of pain and anger.

The wolf leaped sideways, dodging death. Carried by the force of his blow the hyena stumbled forward and, seizing his chance, Ivar lunged at him. The two beasts rolled on the ground, wrestling furiously and trampling the grass with their heavy bodies. Powerful fangs snapped, seeking to rip into exposed flesh, and claws tried to slash vulnerable bellies. More by luck than by skill, Ivar's jaws caught hold of the hyena's forearm and bit down hard, drawing a sharp yelp of pain from the slave. Without giving his adversary time to recover, the wolf seized the handle of the axe and tore it from the hyena's grasp before hitting him on the temple with the dull end of the head. The hyena's hold on his assailant loosened and, slipping behind him, the wolf brought the wooden handle over his head and pressed it across his throat with all his might, cutting off his breath. Coming to his senses, the hyena writhed and kicked furiously, desperately trying to push the shaft from his throat, but panic made him clumsy. In the struggle his loincloth came off and revealed a dark meaty cock, thick and veiny and already more than half-erect. The lewd sight did not distract the wolf, and he tightened his hold, his sweat mingling with the hyena's as the two males pitted their muscles against each other. Before soon the hyena's skin was turning blue under his fur, his swollen tongue hanging out of his muzzle and froth dripping from his lips. His penis, now stiff and throbbing, was spurting precum wildly as his misfiring brain sent agonizing jolts of pleasure and pain down his spine, and his survival instinct slowly gave way to a burning desire to yield to his fate. The slave scrabbled frantically for a good while but at last he let out a strangled groan and submitted to the deadly embrace of the stronger male. Thick arches of creamy cum shot from his turgid cocktip to fall on his belly and thighs, and after one last convulsive shudder he went limp in his victor's arms, his spent penis lying flat on his stomach. Dropping the axe, Ivar sat panting besides the body and wiped the sweat from his brow, eyes wide and chest heaving. He was about to check whether the man was dead or merely unconscious when a dark figure sprang into the clearing.

"You'll pay for this."

The snarl came from a huge black panther. The feline was tall and lean yet powerfully built, with a frame that blended strength and suppleness. Corded muscles ran under his taut skin and a short garment circled his waist. He held no weapon in his hands but his claws were bared and there was a wild glare in his eyes.

Before the wolf could regain his footing the panther was upon him. That mass of muscle and bone sent him reeling to the ground before pinning him flat on his back, followed by two iron-like hands locking around his throat. It was now Ivar's turn to thrash and punch in an attempt to free himself from the suffocating grasp, but fatigue made him weak. He managed by twists his hips enough to knee the panther in the crotch, bruising his balls and dick through the thin cotton loincloth. The cat roared out in pain but did not relent and tightened his grip in anger. Ivar's vision started to go dark, and his blows grew feeble as his air-starved chest burned with excruciating pain. Just as he felt himself passing out he heard a distant thud. At that moment the panther's fierce look turned glassy, and his fingers became slack around his neck. Without a sound the great feline fell on top of the half-choked wolf like a sack of bricks.

Ivar coughed and gulped as his aching lungs drew in precious air. The weight of the fallen panther atop him still constricted his chest and he pushed weakly, trying to free himself from the crushing burden. Through blurry eyes he saw a form crouch above him, and roll the heavy body on its side to grab his shoulders.

"Are you alright? Please, speak to me!" the form said in a panicked voice as it shook him.

He dimly recognized the familiar face of the cheetah, although his still-dazed brain couldn't make sense of his presence here. With immense care, Rassa helped his friend to sit up, one hand supporting his head and neck and the other resting gently on his chest. The haze that clouded Ivar's vision was slowly receding, and his eyes fell on the crumpled form of the panther. A large, round rock was on the ground next to him, and a thick line of crimson was running down the shiny black-blue fur at the back of his head.

"I know you told me to run," Rassa spoke haltingly, "But I was afraid for you, so I came back, and then I saw the bodies, and I saw him hurting you, and I..."

The cheetah shook as he remembered the ghastly scene. He opened his mouth but before he could say another word the wolf softly hushed him, took his round face in his hands, and pressed him against his bosom.

**************

They did not linger, departing as soon as the wolf could stand on his feet. They picked up the weapons to discard them later, and they left the bodies behind. Dead or alive, their pursuers were no longer in condition to cause them any harm. They walked for the rest of the day, only briefing stopping by a stream so that Ivar could clear the grime off his fur. When night came they huddled together in a hollow nook between two rocks and fell asleep almost instantly from sheer exhaustion.

Ivar was the first of the two to wake up. He emerged from slumber with his mind still filled with the brutal sensations of the previous day's fight - the feeling and smell of bodies struggling against each other, the blood flowing between his jaws, his own life nearly ending in a gasp. Rassa was sleeping peacefully now with his arms wrapped around him, and as he gazed upon the cheetah an overwhelming sense of possessiveness flared in his chest. Rivals had tried to wrest the cat away, and he had risked his life to defend him. He laid his hand on the cheetah's lean flank and caressed his fur, his fingers sliding down his hip and cupping his firm buttocks. His feeling of triumph came with rising lust. Now that the cat was his, he burned to consummate his victory by mating with him. He had earned the right to it.

The gray wolf licked his chops and looked longingly at his prize. His sheath was pressing against the cheetah's leg, and the pink tip of his penis had poked out during his sleep. In a slow, back and forth motion, he rubbed the head of his shaft against the soft fur. The friction sent an electrifying jolt into his groin, and his manhood responded to the excitement by growing and pushing out of its sheath. The canine began to pant, stroking his swollen cock against the warm skin as he pictured himself sliding into his mate, knotting him, spraying his seed into him. A thin jet of watery precum squirted from his tip and dribbled down the cat's leg.

Rassa moaned and shifted in his arms, involuntarily squeezing the wolf's stiffening erection between his thighs. Ivar suppressed a growl, torn between the primal urge to grind his member until ejaculation and a voice in his head that told him that he was on the edge of disaster. The unmistakable scent of his erect sex was growing heavy in the air, doubtlessly wafting to the young man's nostrils, and it was only a matter of time before he awoke completely. With an immense effort of will, Ivar reached out to free his trapped cock and untangle himself from the sleeping cheetah, intending to finish off as discreetly as possible behind a nearby bush. Just as he was about to pull out a hand grabbed his now-dripping meat firmly, making him freeze in mid-motion.

"Where are you going?"

Ivar jolted and instinctively turned his head towards the voice. Rassa's eyes were wide open, and the wolf's heart became a lump of ice in his chest. His fear and surprise were short-lived, however, as he discerned the amused smile in the cheetah's gaze.

"Are you a dog, to rub yourself against my leg?" He gently teased.

The wolf opened his mouth to fumble out an explanation but only a whimper escaped his lips when Rassa squeezed his shaft and wrapped his fingers behind his nascent knot.

"I think my faithful guardian deserves so much more," he whispered.

They rolled on the grass, kissing and fondling, all differences of rank momentarily forgotten. Before long Rassa was lying on his back with the wolf towering above him, his thick arousal twitching and dribbling droplets of precum that fell on his belly.

"You know what will happen after I..." Ivar began hesitantly, unsure how familiar with canine anatomy the cat was, "We may remain tied for a while."

Rassa simply nodded. The wolf raised an eyebrow in surprise and then remembered that the cheetah had once owned a slave dog as a servant. As if reading his thoughts, Rassa smiled faintly and spoke.

"He used to sleep at y the foot of my bed, and we both slept without clothes or sheets during the hot and sultry summer nights. I couldn't help but notice the differences between our bodies. I made him join me in my bed and soon my curiosity became less innocent, although we never pushed our games too far."

In the back of his mind Ivar wondered if he was another exciting experiment for the young nobleman. But it did not matter right now. Grasping the cheetah's thighs, he pulled his legs up in the air, exposing his anus - a small spot of velvety, puffy dark skin surrounding a tight hole. He lowered his muzzle and sniffed it out of instinct. Rassa kept himself clean, but his scent imprinted itself immediately upon the wolf's memory. Without shame or disgust he began to lick, and before long his wide tongue had lathered the tailhole in saliva. Rassa shivered, partly from the tickling contact on his hairless skin, partly in nervous anticipation of what was to come.

Finally, Ivar rose from the wet pucker and licked his lips, his erection tormenting him. Eyes burning, he grabbed the cheetah's ankles, lifted his calves on his shoulders and lowered himself until the tip of his manhood brushed against the cat's anus. The contact of the hot, turgid member against his sensitive spot made Rassa whimper in apprehension. Ivar halted, but his friend gulped and grinned, wordlessly telling him to go ahead. He then closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and gripped the wolf's arms, relaxing his tense body as best he could.

Carefully and slowly, the gray wolf pushed himself in, guiding the tip of his shaft past the cat's sphincter until he was one inch deep in him. Rassa flinched, seemingly more in expectation of imminent pain than in actual discomfort, and made a low sound halfway between a moan and a whine. Sensing that his slow approach was only prolonging his friend's anguish, Ivar lunged forward without warning, burying his manhood to the knot.

Rassa let out a high pitched yelp and gripped Ivar's arms tighter as several inches of rigid canine dick were thrust into his rear. But his cry died away as the wolf slipped out slowly and then drew in again, less brutally this time. After several seconds he dared open his eyes, a small tear rolling down his cheek. Ivar's face was still hovering over him, and his big warm tongue flashed over Rassa's nose and lips, soothing his fears. His friend was now picking up a steady rhythm, sliding in and out of him fluidly, and progressively the burning sensation of a foreign object ramming his hole turned into a milder feeling of being massaged inside. The lips of his small sheath parted, revealing a barbed cocktip. Soon, the timid arousal grew into a full-blown erection that bounced against his belly with each of Ivar's thrusts.

The wolf growled and gnashed his teeth. His member was on fire but he was afraid he would hurt the cheetah by forcing his knot inside in one go without loosening him up first. He pushed deeper and felt his cock spread the tight asshole a little bit wider. He thrust again, more vigorously this time, and the thick lump of flesh buried itself halfway into Rassa's rear, drawing a faint moan from his mate. Growing bolder, he jolted forward and his third attempt saw his knot swallowed whole. The cheetah's muscles stretched almost to the breaking point and then gave way suddenly, wrapping themselves tightly around the base of his penis and locking the two males together. Rassa cried out again, his toes curling of their own accord and the claws of his fingers sinking into Ivar's skin. Bloodstains pearled on the wolf's fur but he did not feel the pain, his mind was exploding as hot cum spurted madly from his cocktip.

The young nobleman tilted his head backwards, still reeling from the shock. The flash of pain had been intense and fiery but it had faded quickly, and now he was left with the feeling of something huge and fleshy filling him, stretching his rectum and discharging a warm liquid in his guts. Above him the big wolf was panting heavily, his tongue lolling out and with a wild look in his eyes. He was ejaculating continuously, far more than when Rassa had masturbated him, and in the throes of his long climax he kept thrusting frantically, his furry balls bouncing between his spread-out legs.

At last Ivar's orgasm subsided and after one last spurt his dick ceased pulsing. The canine breathed a deep sigh and came to rest, utterly drained; yet his knot kept him firmly tied to Rassa. The cheetah could feel it in his hole, the swollen bulb acting as a cork to prevent the wolf's sperm from escaping. His own cock was rock-hard but he had not climaxed - the wolf's rough lovemaking had been so fierce and overwhelming that he had been unable to focus on his own pleasure. Now that the onslaught was over his unsatisfied dick was twitching in the air, little jets of clear fluid shooting from his barbed glans and leaving wet stains on his belly.

"Quick, on your side," Ivar commanded.

Too dazed to respond, Rassa simply complied, rolling on his side while Ivar positioned himself behind him. To the cheetah's amazement, the wolf changed positions with little difficulty. The base of his penis was apparently still very flexible despite his erection. Before he could comment on it, however, Ivar wrapped his arms around his body, one hand caressing his torso while the other grasped his throbbing shaft and stroked him. The gentle touch, and the feeling of his lover's manhood still lodged firmly in his insides, sent him instantly over the edge. With a soft cry he climaxed in Ivar's hand, his hot semen squirting between the wolf's fingers and dripping on the grass.

For perhaps a quarter of an hour they lay quietly on the ground, nuzzling and enjoying the balmy aftermath of their copulation. Rassa felt in no hurry for their tie to end. The feeling of lukewarm seed sloshing inside him was odd but not unpleasant, and he felt safe and content in the big wolf's arms. Eventually, the meaty cock started to deflate, and a few minutes later Ivar pulled out with a faint plop, releasing copious amounts of gooey semen gushing out of the cat's anus. With a slight push, Ivar gently rolled Rassa on his belly and, spreading his buttcheeks with his hands, cleaned him thoroughly with his tongue until not a stain remained on the cheetah's fur.

"Did it hurt?" he asked later as he licked his own penis, still massive and dripping.

"A little at first," Rassa conceded.

He rubbed his rear end as if to emphasize his point but the gleam in his eyes was playful. "It will hurt less next time," he added with a wink.

Next time... The words brought Ivar back to the reality of their situation. He did not want to part from Rassa, and the young nobleman evidently liked him and wished to stay with him. Yet he could not keep up the charade of their flight forever. Sooner or later he must either tell him the truth and carry him off, or return him to his family.

"You know, we better not mention this episode to anyone," he said abruptly.

Rassa nodded gravely, suddenly pale. If what they had done became public knowledge, he would suffer disgrace in the eyes of his family - not for laying with another male, but for letting a slave take him. As to what would happen to Ivar, slaves had been gelded for less serious crimes than that.

**************

They kept walking for the rest of the morning and signs of civilization grew more frequent. The midday sun was beating down on them when they left the shade of the woods and reached a well-trodden path cutting through ripe fields and prosperous orchards. Their nudity would have doubtlessly attracted unwanted attention from travelers and local farmers but Ivar easily solved the issue by borrowing some clothes that had been left to dry outside a cottage.

"Should we not ask these people for help?" Rassa said as they walked, pointing towards a group of bare-chested laborers cutting wood not far from the road.

"We don't know if we can trust them. They might kidnap you if they learn who you are," Ivar muttered sourly without even looking up, unable to come up with a better excuse. His heart was pounding in his chest, wrenched between his wish to tell the youth the truth and fear of his reaction.

"How about about them then?" Rassa insisted, motioning up the road.

Ivar raised his head and froze in place. A troop of soldiers was coming their way. The men were walking in a well-ordered file and were clad in bright uniforms. There was no mistaking them for ruffians or bandits.

"We should hide," the wolf said as he darted his eyes to the bushes on either side of the road, trying to look for an escape route.

"I recognize their livery," Rassa replied excitedly, "It belongs to a lord my father is friends with. They will protect us!"

Abruptly, the wolf clamped his hand around his wrist. "Listen to me, we need to run," he pleaded. He had intended his voice to sound warm, the voice of a friend asking to be trusted, but what came from between his clenched teeth sounded horribly like a threat.

"What? But..." the cheetah blurted, confused and frightened by his friend's expression.

"No time to explain, let's go," Ivar barked, yanking him by the arm.

"Wait! You're hurting me," Rassa cried out as he was dragged by the stronger male.

Ivar risked a quick glance behind his shoulder. Seeing the scuffle, a few men had detached themselves from the group and were running after them. He cursed himself bitterly for his cowardice and stupidity.

They burst through a hedge and made off towards the edge of the woods. Before they had gone more than a few yards, Rassa dug his heels and tried to wrench himself away from the wolf.

"What's gotten into you?" he snarled, indignation now mixing with fear in his voice.

"I'm not letting them take you away and put me back in shackles," Ivar shot back. His grip was like an iron vise around the frail cheetah's arm, but in his rage he did not notice the pain that racked his companion's face.

"No! I'll tell them you helped me. They won't hurt you! Please!"

The red mist lifted from Ivar's eyes just long enough for him to see the tears streaming from the young cat's eyes. A feeling of shame and disgust came over him immediately, and the arm that held his prisoner fell limp by his side. Rassa rubbed his injured wrist, again looking more confused and pained than angry, and ran towards the road. Ivar did not try to hold him back.

With a crash of snapping branches and clanking armour, several soldiers emerged from the hedge, swearing loudly as thorns scratched their faces and tore their uniforms. One of them grabbed Rassa as he ran and violently wrestled him to the ground, heedless of the cheetah's protests of innocence. The sight tore the wolf out of his numbness. He sprang forward and his fist crashed against the jaw of the nearest man, a big mastiff who instantly collapsed to the ground. He lashed out savagely at another soldier, sending him curling up in agony with a kick to the groin. Yet more men rushed between him and the cheetah. Several pairs of hands snatched at him and strong arms grabbed his torso from behind. He bared his teeth, seeking to sink them into soft flesh, but he suddenly felt a thump at the back of his head and everything went dark.

**************

The squalid damp cell was a far cry from the fresh air and sunshine of the last few days. Repressing a whimper of pain, Ivar lifted his head from his chest and stared glumly at the rotten straw that covered the bare stone floor. He was sitting on the cold ground, his paws shackled to heavy chains that were fixed to the wall and held his arms above his head. His ribs were bruised, and a clump of clotted blood and fur marked the spot where a soldier's sword pommel had felled him. He was also utterly naked. His captors had not even left him a strip of cloth to cover his genitals.

But it was not physical wounds or indignity that hurt him the most. He remembered the look of sheer incomprehension in his friend's eyes, and the fear that followed it. He bowed his head in shame. At least the youth was safe now, or so he hoped.

After what felt like hours of solitude, the door of his cell opened. He looked up sourly, expecting to see a jailor with his evening meal, but the flickering light of a torch revealed a lissome figure standing within the doorway.

"I came as fast as they would let me," the familiar voice said.

Not trusting his ears, Ivar squinted his yellow eyes and wondered if the blow to his head had unhinged his brain.

Rassa stepped inside and kneeled next to him. His hand caressed the back of the wolf's head, and he winced when he felt dried blood under his fingers. The touch was gentle, but it sent a sharp bolt of fresh pain through Ivar's nerves. The apparition was real enough, he thought.

"They wouldn't have hit you if you had listened to me," the cheetah said with a look of tender reproach.

He was dressed in a fine tunic and smelled like he had enjoyed a perfumed bath, a vivid contrast to the wolf's bare and soiled fur. Things were back to the way they should be, Ivar bitterly mused.

"You almost broke that dog's jaw," Rassa continued, "His comrades were about to nail you alive to a tree. Luckily their officer listened to my protests and took us to his lord, although I couldn't prevent them from tossing you in this dungeon."

Ivar gave a little grunt that was almost a laugh. So the boy had saved his life! They were even now.

"The lord recognized me as his friend's son and immediately offered me shelter. We had a discussion regarding the events of the past days, and also the itinerary you made me take. It seems that you haven't been completely honest with me."

The wolf looked dejected at his shackled feet, a growing weight crushing his heart. The cheetah's soft tone tormented him far more than an executioner's tools ever could.

"I was planning to ransom you," he said, the confession struggling painfully past his lips, "But then things changed. I wanted to stay with you. To protect and cherish you."

A hand cupped his chin and tilted his muzzle upwards. Their eyes crossed. Ivar's ears were tilted backwards while the cheetah's face was inscrutable. Then Rassa smiled and placed a little kiss on the wolf's wet nose.

"You silly mutt. If this is what you wanted, why didn't you tell me?"

Ivar looked at him with round eyes, unsure he had heard correctly. "I was afraid of how you'd react," he finally managed.

"So you'd fight three armed men with your bare hands but you're afraid of a small pampered housecat like me?" Rassa grinned, "You'd make a wonderful bodyguard."

Ivar looked utterly puzzled now, but before he could open his mouth the cheetah spoke again. "Think about it. You will come back with me, not as a slave but as an honoured companion. You will be clothed, fed, share my living quarters..."

His hand slid between the wolf's thighs and tickled his sheath. "And wield your sword in my service."

An angry tail lashed the cat's hand. "Is this how you see me?" Ivar growled, a glint of wounded pride in his eyes, "As an attack dog and plaything? Will you buy me a gilded collar and a leash?"

Rassa drew back as if the words bit him. "That's not what I meant! You will be a free man."

"And then what?" the wolf countered, "We will go back to your father's manor and sip wine while soldiers hang and crucify the rest of the slaves under our windows?"

It was Rassa's turn to stand with his mouth agape. His head was already full of pleasant pictures of bucolic walks and leisurely dinners with his friend. He had already forgotten the grisly scenes that would await them upon their return. He bowed his head, shamed by his own frivolity.

"I can plead clemency for those who surrender. It will not be much, but there is nothing else you and I can do now. One day, I will inherit the estate, and then with your help I will improve the lot of the servants."

Ivar sighed. He doubted the nobleman would ever part from his slaves, the source of his family's wealth. But he was right about one thing: there was little he could do about it, and there was nothing to be gained by turning down the offer.

"Alright, I accept."

A radiant smile lit Rassa's face. He took the wolf's face in his hands and kissed his forehead. "I knew it!"

"Now will you get these chains off me?" Ivar said, motioning his head towards his shackled wrists.

A mischievous grin crossed the cheetah's boyish features. He grabbed the prisoner's sheath and licked his lips as he peeled back the furry skin and exposed a finger of pink flesh.

"What are you doing?" Ivar whispered nervously. He looked above Rassa's shoulder to the slightly ajar door behind him. "Someone could come in and..." His voice trailed off into a whimper as a tongue brushed against his tip.

"I told the guards to leave us alone whilst I interrogate you," Rassa chuckled, looking up from the growing arousal he held in his hand, "I was at your mercy for three days. I'm entitled to some payback."

Ivar let his breath run between his teeth, leaned back as comfortably as possible against the wall and spread his legs out. He closed his eyes as the hot mouth closed around his manhood. This was part of his new job, he told himself with an inward smile.