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"And we are done!"

Covered head to toes in sweat and several dead flies, Cherry practically collapsed behind me as I skidded to a halt in front of the woodland cabin, now layering in golden leaves that occasionally fell from the surrounding trees. Luckily, this nuisance in autumn decoration provided some bedding for the ocelot as he collapsed to his spotted, shaking knees.

Concern etched itself onto my stoic, sweaty face.

"How do you feel?" I asked, helping the ocelot to his footpaws. "Can you stand?"

"I..." he rasped for air, "I feel like you're...you're trying to kill me..."

"Do not whine," I chuckled darkly, wiping my forehead, and casually strolling to grab two water bottles left absently leaning against a log by the front door. "A little intense training is nothing."

"Nothing?" he half-laughed, half-panted my statement. "Feel like my lungs're on fire!"

Cherry immediately snatched one of the water bottles from my paws and downed 2/3 of it in one single gulp. In all honesty, I expected him to do that. Not simply because he had the talent of holding his breath and swallowing liquids in minimal gulps.

"Ahhhh..." he hummed, licking his supple lips and teasing me with a sweat-browed wink. "So, you ready to teach me more of that Leopard, sensei?"

I grunted, "After we stretch, my pupil."

My ears twitched at the sounds of popping joints and aching growls as we extended our arms around to the back of our heads, then knelt downward until our fingers touched the dirt-encrusted sneakers I bought for us. Among other techniques, Cherry and I made sure to roll our necks in a circle to avoid soreness in that region.

The ocelot did better than I imagined, regarding the Leopard style.

Following some conditioning techniques we used together that loosened his muscles (Leopard required loose formation for quick attacks), I taught him some basic defenses against punches from an opponent, then focusing counterattacks through quick strikes in nerves along the arm. As soon as the attacker tried to strike, Cherry would intercept by swatting at the punching arm's wrist, then jab the nerve in the inner elbow, followed by a quick strike to the elbow and then the neck. All of it would be done at a relatively quick speed before his opponent would have time to react.

Overall, Cherry did well on the defensive attacks but struggled in offensive.

Mainly because I refused to go easy on him. In the days since our 'makeup-sex', a few bruises dotted under his shirt, from the last sessions spent of him trying to get a punch to me while I got a few punches. I tried my best to keep to some air-punches, but Cherry needed to know how to become used to receiving strikes as much as delivering them. For now, he knew better how to deflect an incoming strike, but not to strike back.

Midway through another mock bout, I came up with an idea, "Pause."

Cherry leaned down and panted, groaning as he rubbed his elbows. "What is it?" he asked. "I'm trying and trying, but I can't ever get a hit on you!"

He needed more...motivation.

"I have a proposition for you," I explained to the confused, frustrated feline. When he straightened up and perked his ears high, I quickly added, "It doesn't involve sex."

"Awww," he mock groaned, then spat on the ground. "What is it then?"

I sighed in reluctance, wondering if this decision would come back to turn into regret.

"If you manage to land a hit on me, or get close enough to brush one of my vulnerable regions, then I will answer a question of yours. Should I get ten hits before then, and I get to ask you a question. We will both answer truthfully though."

"So what? We're gonna air our dirty laundry in exchange for getting me to hit better?"

I shrugged. "Do you have any better ideas?"

Cherry mused for a second, then shrugged back, "...I do not."

We went into fighting position again and resumed another round, dodging each other blow for blow whilst trying to land a decent strike (at least, in Cherry's case). The first three hits I inflicted on the enthusiastic ocelot were light ones directed at his shoulders, followed by one single medium-sized punch to the chest and another a kick to his thigh.

I expected to reach hit #10 when suddenly, Cherry dodged one of my fists and feebishly landed a claw on my shoulder, then landed on my throat. Choking momentarily and staggering back, my stupefied, slightly pained expression seemed to scare him a little.

"OhmyGodIamsosorrydidIhurtyouorsomething--"

Taken aback at first, I simply chuckled, "Do not worry. Congratulations on your first hit...heh," my fingers rubbed the area of my Adam's Apple he'd struck. "Not too bad."

Cherry slowly smiled, wagging his tail against the fallen leaves. "You think so?"

"Needs some strength behind it, but otherwise, it is good for disorientation and a short distraction..." I stood up straighter, then sighed reluctantly. "Alright then, since you struck me, what is your question?"

"Oh! Uh..." the feline placed his fingers under his chin, pondering before his eyes lit up and a smirk etched itself across his muzzle. "Tell me the truth: Am I your first boyfriend?"

My first instinct was to snort. "I'd hardly call us something like that so soon."

"Hey!" Cherry guffawed. "I'm being serious here, Markus!"

I raised a coy eyebrow, then slowly nodded my head. "Technically, you are..."

"Technically?"

"Yes," I stared between him and the trees dotting along the landscape of the property's small valley, "I have never been in a real relationship, never had a...bond with someone, not unless you count the other men I've slept with."

Cherry gasped and twitched his nose, acting insulted, "How many men have you slept with?"

A smirk appeared on my old muzzle. "One hit, one question. Remember?" I reminded the feline. "Now, you ready?"

We resumed the round once more. Further punches and deflections later and I managed to land my tenth hit on his shoulder.

"Why do you stay?" I asked after a moment of contemplation. "I know we had that conversation, but part of me genuinely wants to know...Do you not find yourself...off-put by the fact I'm a murderous killer? A contract assassin?

Cherry widened his eyes slightly, then clicked his tongue.

"Which one is the question?" he asked. "Why did I stay? Or why I don't, ya know, like you said, find myself scared shitless that you're a contract killer?"

My tail curled slightly, though I managed to hide the worry under a stoic façade. "Mostly the second one..." I replied in a level tone.

"No, I don't find myself scared shitless," he knelt down to grab his water bottle and take a quick sip, "Ah! Well, to be honest, I was at first, but then the sex was phenomenal, and I figured that making you a mainstream client would help keep me safe from the pimps like Daddy Stripes, before he..." Cherry grew silent.

"How did you know it was a bad idea to not become loyal to any of the pimps in Lakertown?"

The elusive ocelot returned one of my coy smirks. "Hey, for you it's ten hits equals one question. Remember?"

This routine went on for the next hour and a half. Initially, I expected getting more answers than questions from Cherry, not expecting the initiative to give him that much motivation. However, I found myself proven wrong when he started to not only dodge or block my punches and kicks but return them in equal amounts. Sure, I still landed enough strikes here and there, but it could not be denied: Cherry's skills were improving.

We rolled out the questions and genuine answers to each other, as promised.

"Do you stay safe when having sex?" I asked, remembering how we did not use any condoms since he started living at my penthouse.

"I do," he replied. "In fact, I was tested negative at a health clinic a few days before we went to see that Jacob Candle movie. I'm always careful."

Huh. Go figure.

"Do you enjoy working as a hooker?" I asked.

"The sex can be good, and the money can be good," he told me, then smiled in amusement, "and you do get to meet very interesting people, like you. But it can be demanding sometimes. Plus, most of the Johns aren't attractive or experienced. Like you."

If only I had the bravery to show a hint of a blush.

"Do you keep count of how many you've killed?" he asked.

"I did, at first..." came my answer, though morbid. "But I decided to stop after it became so...tedious to remember."

Or to be more specific, I lost count.

"What is it that you find attractive about me?" I asked. "And I'm including personality-wise, Cherry."

"Hmm," he thought it over, rubbing his sore, slightly bruised elbow. "I like how mysterious you are, but you never pretend to be something you're not whenever you're around me. I like your smiles, though few...hm. You're definitely one of the few Johns I've met who cares to get me off...Oh! You're also one of the few older men I'd met who knows how to keep me entertained. Well, besides this, of course."

I couldn't help myself from smiling at that jab.

Finally, Cherry landed another good hit. This time, a near-kick to my groin. Luckily for us, he only managed to reach my inner thigh, but it did knock me down temporarily.

"What do you like about me?" he asked, grinning. "And not just because of my ass."

The faintest hint of a laugh bubbled from my lips.

"You're too optimistic for my own good," I spoke bluntly. "You also don't annoy me like other furs tend to do."

"I'll take it," the ocelot chirped, wagging his tail. "Now let me kick your tail again..."

To my surprise, he got another hit on me, this time to the throat. He didn't even hold back. When I pulled myself together and reassured him I was fine, Cherry asked his next question.

"Were there ever any murders you regretted?"

Regaining my stance, I only muttered, "A few..."

"C'mon, you need to be more specific than that!" he whined. "Give me something other than that...please? I'm very curious."

I shrugged and decided to tell him about one contract that stuck with me. Back in 2011, this simpleton business executive found himself unemployed after his supervisors let him off months prior. The pension he vested in did little to keep himself afloat, not to mention his wife left the poor bastard after finding out the dog had several accounts on various porn websites (getting high alimony checks and almost full custody of their cubs in the process). Oddly enough, I had expected him to ask me to off his ex-wife, but no.

He wanted me to assassinate him instead. Make it look like a robbery-turned-homicide, then get paid by the unmarked bills and access to an off-shore bank account. Not only would the former business executive be able to escape his crapsack life, but the life insurance would set his cubs for life in the process.

He called it 'the best way to finally make myself useful to my kids'.

Cherry certainly grew silent after I finished telling the tale, looking me over a few times and then gulping. "Goddamn...I almost feel sorry for the poor dude..."

A grunt escaped my throat. "I don't, but it still lingers with me. He looked...relieved when I choked the life from him. He felt...free."

"Still, goddamn..." the ocelot shook his muzzle, whiskers twitching.

I checked the time and sighed to myself, gesturing to the cabin. "Come now, let's stretch out and head back inside. I think we have had enough training for today..."

Cherry and I helped each other perform partner stretches to release the tension in our muscles. Doing so before and after workout routines helped heal more quickly, as well as to prevent muscle soreness and stiffness after a workout. Even so, the suggestive poses did not help to lower our libido. I understood this during one stretch, when I was showing Cherry how to properly arch his back from behind.

A lecherous purr resonated from the back of Cherry's throat, confusing me until I realized my fingers were a centimeter from his right nipple, pert and hard under the damp t-shirt.

"Mmmm, that's it..." he mumbled. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Our eyes connected, as did mirroring grins. Minutes later, we hurried inside and rediscovered another way to 'stretch' on the bed.