What I Needed
#15 of Cherry
This was for a writing challenge in a Telegram group I joined (link here if you're interested: https://t.me/joinchat/CPoeZhclggenrOEh0yYwvg). At just over a thousand words, we would write a short story fitting a chosen theme. The new theme for this week is, "It was exactly what I needed."
It seems Markus is still tormented by the nightmare he had earlier that night. Can our favorite ocelot do anything to soothe his nerves? ;P
The summer dawn creeping over the Lakertown skyline didn't soothe me the slightest.
Since waking up, I dressed myself in a plain black bathrobe and leaned outside the exterior balcony, watching and listening to this city as it loudly snored in its sleep. I ignored the pre-morning chill over my body fur and simply stared out into the dancing starlight that made up this Midwestern city, from the iconic skyline along Lake Michigan to the cesspool surrounding it and this apartment complex. Some lights in various buildings twinkled on and off like distant, dying stars. Most of the visible apartments and high-rises remained dark due to their sleepy inhabitants this time of the morning. Nobody could ever know what they were dreaming of, but on many occasions, I tended to guess they were often mundane things. The kind of things that made me jealous of.
These dreams of my past had haunted me since forever. In time, I'd learned to suppress them for periods of time, burying them under the many rivers of blood and death and carnage forged across twenty-plus years of my profession. Yet sometimes...these nightmares always reemerged from under the surface like tumors. They tortured me until I found the willpower to drown them away into a benign state. On and on in an inescapable cycle nobody could break away from.
Sighing deeply, I gripped the cold railing and closed my tired eyes. I tried imagining myself far away from here, at the cabin where no cars or souls surrounded me. It started to work until my tail no longer swished against the balcony floor, but a pair of legs.
He yawned, "Good morning..."
My blood ran cold, almost bringing me back to the image of the ocelot covered in gore.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked cheerily at first.
When I didn't answer, Cherry slithered beneath my right arm to stand between me and the balcony. He borrowed one of my extra black bathrobes, draping him like a prince in elegant robes that dragged behind him. If not for the dark thoughts on my mind, I would have found his lithe frame and smooth torso poking out sexy.
"Wait a min..." Immediate concern crossed his sharp eyes, and his tail flicked out of the robe as he asked, "How long have you been up?"
"...enough."
Of course, the damned ocelot didn't believe me. Somehow, he knew it wasn't the truth. After all, his firm paws and velvet tongue and experienced lips could pull any truth from me, weakening my defenses.
Fucking prostitutes could somehow always know...
"Bullshit," he huffed, staring up at the dark bags under my eyes, "Did you even get four hours of sleep? That can't be healthy for you!"
"Neither is being around me," I tried to say, only for my incoherent mutterings be translated to, "N-Neith...bein'...'rou..."
The exhaustion finally caught up to me, and I nearly fell over onto the ledge of the balcony. Fortunately, Cherry yelped and managed to pull me back to my footpaws, pulling me back inside after discarding his extra-large bathrobe so we wouldn't trip over them (and likely break our jaws). My heavy, frantic eyes fluttered opened and closed as I saw the ground transition from polished brick to an ugly carpeted floor I never bothered to replace.
"Easy there, Mark..." I heard Cherry grunt besides, guiding me back towards the bed. "Jeez, I hope most of your weight is all muscles."
I found enough strength to grumble, "Smartass..." before any remaining strength collapsed with me onto the blanket.
***
The dreams of a professional, ruthless killer varied between either vast nothingness, or the kind of agony 'tortured' artists only yearned for. Me? I found myself in the latter. I guess you could say I happened to be one of those 'lucid dreamers', because immense relief immediately flooded over my shoulders as I drifted through this endless void.
Some sounds pierced through such as a thud or some honks from street level. They were faint as a hooting owl, to the point my instincts almost mistook them for a rumbling threat until I remembered: this was only a dream. I didn't know how long I swam in the quiet abyss--maybe just hours or minutes--but it didn't bother me. There were no nightmares or fathers or victims or demons of the past to haunt me back to the real world. No, what did pull me back to reality was this warm sensation circling around my flaccid member.
My eyes opened to the sight of my bare ceiling, the blankets covering my weary body (and someone else rustling beneath them, based on the mounds) as yellow sunlight drenched the rest of the bedroom like a spotlight. That same pair of lips started lapping up and down the hardening underside of my canine shaft, cradling it before a feline maw enveloped it whole.
"Mmmmmmm...horny little ocelot..."
Cherry's 'morning treatment' paused, even as I shifted my legs to widen them for room. He hesitated even as I lowered my left paw on top of his headfur, while my right paw gripped the used sheets. However, his daring nature returned when my fingers scratched one of his heated ears, causing him to purr.
"Mmm," he giggled. "I couldn't resist. And I thought you'd appreciate it~"
Suddenly, an erupting groan echoed from the back of my throat when I felt his rough tongue tease my sensitive cocktip. This time with vigor. The same kind of vigor that brought me to orgasm within minutes. As I lay in bed, eagerly thrusting my hips into the feline's warm maw, my balls bounced off his wet chin and I snarled as my cum unloaded into his throat.
I let go of my right paw and heard Cherry gagged below the blanket, yet he didn't complain mid-swallow. He impressed me by sucking all my seed down in a few audible gulps. As I laid my arms back and felt his mouth let go of my drained shaft, the blanket flew aside to reveal him naked and boldly licking his chops of some stained cum.
"So, Mr. Insomniac," he half-laughed while scooting closer to me. The ocelot's multi-colored paws awkwardly rested on his toned knees, his tail curling behind him in a way that made me wonder if this thing was a spur-of-the-moment way to get me up. "How do you feel?"
I stretched my neck until I heard a small crack. Then, I stretched an arm.
"It was..." My nostrils inhaled his scent and mine, "exactly what I needed..."
Cherry tilted his head. "Me sucking you off, or actually getting some Z's?"
"Both, obviously," a dry chuckle formed on my lips, only for it to pause. "So...how long have I been asleep?"
"About nine hours or so," he casually wiped some excess cum with his thumb, then licked it clean, "I decided to nap with you for a bit before making some brunch. You in the mood for some extra-salty and peppery eggs for linner?"
My right ear twitched like he spoke a foreign language. "'Linner'?"
The ocelot snickered at my momentary confusion. "Wow, you're so old."
I rolled my eyes and promptly threw the nearest pillow at him.
***
The rest of the day was supposed to be relaxing, at least I hoped it would be. However, the moment I turned on the afternoon news, a single headline yanked me back to me and Cherry's dire situation:
SUSPECTED PIMP GUNNED DOWN IN LAKERTOWN RED LIGHT DISTRICT
And the mugshot presented was none other than Desmond 'Daddy Stripes' Sylvester, now deceased.