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Cherry continued to sleep as I got up and showered the very next morning. He still slept like that an hour later, curling into an adorable cocoon with the velvet blanket and looking more relaxed than any post-sex afterglow. I couldn't blame him after last night.

As I went into the kitchen, having put on a pair of underwear over my muscular, dark-furred body, I turned on the wall-mounted TV to a local news channel.

"--no injuries reported after last night's drive-by shooting. The perpetrators responsible for the incident were two canines: a twenty-five-year-old golden retriever named Danny Mckenna and twenty-three-year-old Harry Solomon, the latter of whom was mysteriously shot and killed before swerving into a brick building. Witnesses report a hulking figure from the motel had given change, even managing to grab onto the car, but inconsistent descriptions of the third party have police tied up on reasons for the crime. A lack of street cameras in the area also prompted city call for further public funding to fix infrastructure--"

They didn't suspect me. Good.

I changed the channel to a WWII documentary. It was almost eleven o' clock, and considering my guest, I decided to make us some brunch. Checking the cabinets, my stomach growled at the sight of an unused box of pancake mix I never got to open. Hell, I didn't even remember when I bought it. Oh well.

The sound of footsteps could be heard minutes later. And following a long shower that gave me enough time to make four batches of pancakes (I even mixed in strawberry slices in, recalling how Cherry once mentioned how he once went to a restaurant that served the same thing, and instantly fell in love with it), the ocelot stepped into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of blue underwear and a black t-shirt two sizes too big. His stature made the hem droop down to his knees in an innocent yet sexy manner. It made me half-tempted to toss him onto the granite counter and fuck the daylights out of his beautiful body.

With him, I was feeling something that made me want to stay by his side.

"Morning," I decided against it, sadly. "Did you sleep alright?"

"...not really..." he murmured tiredly. His eyes trailed from me to the plate I placed beside mine, and a second form of hunger could be seen on his expression. "Mmm, tasty."

"The pancakes?"

"Oh yeah, those too." Cherry smirked before hugging my side (as well as cup my package) for several seconds. "Thanks for letting me sleep over..."

I half-smiled. "...you're welcome."

"If there's seriously anything I can do to repay you...like say..." the lad peeled my underwear to fondle my hardening black shaft. "I have an idea."

"We'll see about 'payment'," a lustful chuckle escaped my throat. Apparently, Cherry was also thinking the same thoughts as me. "For now, let's eat first."

The ocelot's stomach loudly growled. "Sounds like a plan, hun."

I nearly did a double take at Cherry's words. Did he just call me 'hun' just now?

"Sure."

We sat down at the granite table and quietly dived in. It'd been a while since I cooked anything that was unhealthy, but it was a welcome taste, nonetheless. Cherry certainly didn't mind the excess sugar and carbohydrates, especially while covering it up in butter and maple syrup I conveniently had.

"These're so good!" he moaned between bites. "You're such a good cook, Markus!"

I couldn't prevent myself from blushing. "Thank you."

Having him in my life is an emotional risk, I tried telling myself repeatedly during the rest of breakfast. If I risk it all, could you break my fall, boy?

_ _ "Where did you even learn to cook like this?" he pondered, "I thought you were a hitman."

"Even killers like me have tastes in good food," I wanted to say, only to instead mutter by accident, "I uh...I watched Martha Stewart." Either way, that caused Cherry to elicit a laugh.

How do I live and how do I breathe without you in my life from now on?

This was ridiculous.

In truth though, it wasn't. I wanted to feel love run through my blood once more. I wanted to feel it course through my body again without the smell of shame or bleeding iron. Previously, any thoughts that were a million shards of glass haunting me from my past. I hadn't even thought of Thomas in years until he came into my life, but now when I tried to think of the Mastiff, the only thing that came to mind was a lithe ocelot's spotted fur and semi-innocent eyes.

Cherry cleaned his plate with his feline tongue. "That was very delicious."

"You have some syrup on your cheek," I pointed to his right side.

"Here?" He pointed to his left.

"No, your right side."

"Here?"

"No, up a little more?"

"Am I missing it?" he asked sheepishly.

I shook my muzzle stoically. "Damn it...I'll get it."

Before I could even stop myself, I leaned forward and licked the syrup clean off his cheek. When I pulled back, our eyes connected once again, spellbinding me.

In less than an eternal minute, I had Cherry gripping the countertop while ramming my slick cock in and out the lad's lubed tailhole. He'd apparently prepared himself after bathing, considering we were cockblocked last night by the two assholes who shot up his motel room. So, there I stood, spreading his cheeks apart with my manhood while roughly fucking him to make up for lost time. And like a (or my?) good little prostitute, Cherry mewled and gasped and moaned and arched his tail and clenched around my large knot when I finally came inside him.

We cleaned up soon after, him planting a kiss on my lips while I decided to get to work. I meant every word last night when I told our shooters that whoever paid them to silence Cherry better prepare themselves for a goddamn war with the Iron Phantom. With me.

For you I have to risk it all...

_ 'Cause the writing's on the wall... _