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Long days and what seemed longer nights dragged out McCloud's unwanted stay in Wolf O'Donnell's hideout. For a time Wolf had kept his prisoner in bondage at night and under a close eye during the day. Then Wolf started keeping him near at night, substituting bound wrists for a close and uncomfortably warm spooning. Fox protested, but his words went ignored. He always squirmed, but Wolf only held him tighter until his wriggling petered out.

On the nights Fox bothered to struggle, Wolf would coo into his ear. Something like: "Acting like you don't enjoy this. Made you pop with my tongue down your throat. Be good and I'll do it again."

And Fox, if he replied at all, usually said something along the lines of: "You're a piece of trash, Wolf. I'm not staying here forever."

Wolf would usually just chuckle; and Fox would blush and ball up his fists and release them impotently. In spite of himself, Fox slept well with Wolf's breath against the back of his head.

Another morning came. Fox rolled onto his back, was surprised that Wolf wasn't there. O'Donnell was often a late riser, but this morning he was gone. Fox pawed at the collapsed mattress: Wolf's place was damp with sweat, but chilled. He had been away for some time.

Fox got up, relieved himself, then helped himself to some of the filtered water (not too filtered; the station's water purifiers were on their last legs and every glass of water the spigots offered up was cloudy). At one point a thriving hub of outlaw commerce, Sargasso Station had been long since abandoned - except by Wolf O'Donnell.

Fox walked to the promenade of the station. He was nude; his clothing had long since been destroyed and he was not desperate enough to pull on one of Wolf's musky old outfits. There was also the fact that Wolf, rather more muscular and tall than Fox, consequently wore outfits of a larger size. Fox found it less embarrassing to walk naked than to look like a cub in an adult's outfit.

As he sometimes did, Fox walked to the hangars. On his way he stopped by the broken vending machines which lined the promenade's entryway. Where the machines had once sported panes of reinforced glass, there were only gaps. Fox reached in and took a calorie bar from the rack; they were the only thing left. Not to mention stale, but they tasted no better fresh.

Inside the hangar was Wolf O'Donnell's pride: the Wolfen, a fighter of his own design, one which rivaled, even surpassed the Arwing. Being alone with the Wolfen was no reason for excitement since it would not fly, let alone open its cockpit for Fox. He had tried, and had gotten a nasty but harmless jolt for his troubles. He merely looked for Wolf in the spacious hangar. Failing to find the outlaw, he left his wrapper on the floor and returned to the promenade.

As though he had been waiting for McCloud, Wolf stepped out of one of the run-down storefronts. A smile was on his face - not a friendly one, Wolf seemed incapable of those - and, uncommonly, he had on pants and his boots, but nothing else. He sidled up to the smaller fox, muscled in on his personal space the way an overbearing boyfriend might. Fox pulled to the side, but Wolf hooked an arm around his shoulders.

Hauling Fox in, he said brusquely, "Out for a stroll, huh? Enjoying that crisp morning air?"

"Let me go home already, Wolf," Fox said flatly. "Eventually someone will come looking for me."

Wolf's smile widened as though Fox's remark was foreplay. He helped himself to a kiss on the fox's cheek. Promisingly, McCloud did not resist it. "Let you go eventually. Not yet. Not done having my fun. And you like it too. You can talk all you want, body language tells the truth though." He stole another kiss, then added slyly, "Doesn't help your case that you always cum when I use you."

His paw, toughened by brawls and burly by genes, cupped McCloud's genitals. These were small, better suited to some five-foot-two fuckboy than the repeated savior of the Lylat System. Fox shivered, growled; Wolf growled back much more intensely, did so down into the cup of Fox's ear. He squeezed Fox's groin, and when the fox let out a gasp, Wolf's smile widened another centimeter or two.

"Slut. That's all there is to it."

"Fuck you, Wolf," Fox snapped. In the spacious metallic cavern of the promenade, his voice doubled back in an echo.

Wolf's long, pink tongue tickled and prodded at Fox's snout. Over the whiskers, across the bridge, tugging at the jowls. Each and every time Fox tried to recoil, Wolf pulled him in closer, and now his penis tented the taut black leather trousers he wore. This was what Wolf smelled like: leather, along with a generous helping of musk. He tugged at Fox's jowl with his thumb, pulled it up, bared the teeth and kissed them. Fox blushed and Wolf grinned.

"Admit you want it or not, it doesn't make a difference to me." Wolf kneaded McCloud's groin; rubbed his palm against the fox's small, circumcised erection. Fox softly whined and Wolf, ever the predator, loosed a low and rumbling growl. "See what I mean? Can't hide it from me. You're a slut, McCloud."

"Damn you, Wolf," groaned Fox.

Suddenly Wolf cracked a palm against McCloud's ass. Rounded and pert, it wobbled from the strike, and Fox gasped as much in pain as in submissive lust. He meant to glare at Wolf, but his expression was, for one crucial moment, full of naked lust.

Wolf toothily grinned. He pushed Fox away and unbuttoned the fly of his pants. Fox's breath caught in his neck. "Climate control on this station is shot. Gets damn hot at night, cold during the days, you name it." Down went his pants; nothing beneath them but that silvery-gray fur of his, and with his exposure came a whiff of sweaty musk. His penis was the opposite of McCloud's in every way: flesh dark instead of pink, size fat instead of small. His foreskin was intact, and the charcoal-hued head of his erect penis peeked from its opening.

"Choose now, pup. Choke on this," he palmed his cock, squeezed it, "or snort the tailpipe."

"Neither, I don't-, don't want-," Fox stammered, blush deepening to a shade of crimson. His penis was so stiff that it throbbed. He became self-conscious of his nudity and brought around his large tail, used it to cover his loins.

Wolf darkly chuckled. Despite rumors to the contrary, he was not impatient when it came to sex; definitely not when it came to rubbing McCloud's nose in it, figuratively and literally. He pushed himself on the smaller, younger pilot. Kissed him as suddenly as he had put a bright red mark on those round ass cheeks. His tongue slopped into McCloud's maw, tickled at the back of the fox's throat and utterly defied the native tongue.

Far more girlishly than Fox wanted, he pawed at Wolf's shoulders and tried to shove him away. All that was missing from the futile gesture was a cry of stop, you brute! Wolf's retaliation was swift: he yanked Fox in close, crushing the fox's lithe body against his hard muscles. He grappled with McCloud's ass, gripping round cheeks, kneading them, dimpling them while his tongue prodded and prickled the fox's throat, spurring sputters and gags while slobber from both maws drizzled down both chins.

The kiss wilted McCloud's efforts to push Wolf off, but his penis, though small, was incredibly stiff and varicose. Like a blunt saber, it ground against the longer, stronger shaft of Wolf's penis; mirroring the kiss in messiness, their penises leaked precum generously against one another.

O'Donnell's lone eye burrowed into McCloud's diffident gaze. He grumbled, snarled as he kissed the fox and fondled him. His fingers dug into the fox's ass cheeks, slipped between them, prodded the tender bud hiding in their cleft, still snug in spite of Wolf's semi-regular rutting. Appealing as it was to make McCloud squeal and gasp on the mattress, tempting the legendary pilot with slobbery kisses and anal musk was a greater joy.

Though Wolf had no desire to sodomize McCloud tonight, he traced a fingertip around the rim of Fox's anus. His claw dragged softly on the pink wrinkles, each minor catch sending lances of tentative pleasure up the fox's spine. Fox's body language, already taciturn, became markedly colder as Wolf teased his pucker. His face was reddened and hot, his ears pinned back.

The mercenary broke out of the kiss with a low and rumbling growl. McCloud gasped, but Wolf kept him near, kept him sharing humid breaths while glinting slobber linked their maws. Fox said in as haughty a tone he could muster, "You think I'm going to beg for you to fuck me, you're out of your mind even more than usual, Wolf."

Wolf couldn't help but sneer. "Beg for it again, you meant to say. Either way, it's not your ass I'm after. Right now, at least." He pecked a kiss on Fox's cheek; Fox made an attempt to pull away, feebly.

He let go of McCloud and stepped back. For a moment, as if drawn by an invisible tether, Fox took a step after him. He caught himself and stopped, blushing more than ever; Wolf chuckled and gave him a patronizing rub between the ears.

"Aw. Look at that. Don't want papa to let go of you?" Wolf asked with cloying, mocking sweetness thick in his voice.

"Shut up," Fox hissed, folding his arms.

O'Donnell caught the mouthy fox's chin in a paw. Turned his head, tilted it, and forced eye contact which Fox, to his credit, fiercely maintained once begun. "Attitude on you. Suits you, makes you seem like less of a bitch." He pecked Fox on the lips, hoped for some retaliation - a bite, a shove, even a growl would have been promising - but Fox took it passively. Wolf smirked. "Hm. Scratch that, guess you're a bitch after all. That works too."

The wolf backpedaled. He pulled Fox by the chin for several seconds, then let go with a shove against his face. Without looking back, he stopped at the pitted wooden surface of what had once been the promenade's bar. He lifted himself, slid onto the bar, placed one foot on a stool and lifted the opposite leg. He said as he hooked a paw around his thigh, "Done playing for now. Come and sniff it, musk's good and ripe today. I know you want it."

Fox hesitated; Wolf had expected as much, though he hoped Fox would dive on the opportunity to snort some ripe ass. Still with a stiff penis, McCloud said in shaky defiance, "I don't want to smell your asshole, Wolf."

"No?" Wolf asked, not angry but sly. The knowing tone of his voice irritated Fox; it irritated him because he wanted Wolf desperately. He hated the mercenary, despised him for being so desirable.

"Doesn't sound right." Now with his empty paw Wolf reached beneath his heavy, gray-furred scrotum. Unabashed in his nudity and his display, he spread the pink pucker of his anus for McCloud's hungry gaze; though the dull light of the station was far from ideal for anatomical studies, Fox could just barely see how Wolf's pink anus gave way to the vital red flesh of his insides. Even with a distance of five feet between them, Fox caught a whiff of the wolf's anal musk, and he began to salivate.

"Dammit," Fox grunted, green eyes flitting between anus and penis, and to a lesser degree the rest of Wolf's scarred, masculine form. His circumcised penis squirted its precum across the metal floor again and again without the benefit of masturbation. Fox said in a keening voice, "Wolf, stop, please..."

"Yeah. Whine. Good noises for a bitch." Spreading his pucker further now, stretching its rim into a slight oblong shape. Sweat glinted on its surface, in his pale fur. His balls hung slightly uneven like a crooked painting over fingers framing the pink bullseye of his asshole. Fox's breathing came through in soft, reedy whines, noises he didn't realize he was making.

Fox was not nervous around Wolf; only aroused and ashamed, enough so that his resentment towards Wolf was comparatively negligible. He knelt before Wolf's display, ducking his head into thicker and thicker musk. His nose quivered as he neared O'Donnell's smelly rim; his nostrils kissed its familiar concave flesh and he shuddered, already tasting rich lupine musk without inhaling it.

O'Donnell said nothing. There was no need to yet; Fox began to snuffle and he crammed his nose in harder. Wolf's anus tightened as if to resist Fox's prodding nosepad, but the musk it exuded remained potent. He said as he withdrew his fingers and slid his paw fondly over Fox's crown, "Knew you couldn't resist. How about a kiss?"

From Fox came a particularly long and low whine - a sound Wolf had heard a few times before from Fox, usually when he had the younger pilot pinned to the mattress, cock in his ass. The sound made Wolf smile in his typically malicious way. Fox's first kiss was soft, but the immediate followup was a firm smack. Wolf quietly, pleasurably grumbled, and the flag of his tail beat a loose rhythm between the bar and McCloud's chest.

"Show it you love it. Good going." Wolf's paw, burly and firm, curled around McCloud's crown once more. Rather than a patronizing rub, he squeezed just firmly enough to make his intent clear, and he said to the snuffling fox, "Mix it up. Don't just sniff and kiss. Got a nice tongue, use it."

Fox had enough nerve to grumble, but nothing else. His eyes closed but his lips parted, and he began swabbing his tongue across Wolf's pucker. Flush with satisfaction, his smile both smug and lewd, Wolf hooked a leg over Fox's shoulder and held him in its lazy embrace. "Getting my asshole polished is more fun than slugging it out with you in the sky. Just barely." His words were a rumble, heard easily above the slobbering and snuffles of the submissive fox.

That rich, masculine odor filled Fox's head; dopamine was entering his blood, pleasure like a drug high washing through his body, making his athletic sinew relax. His petite penis remained hard, varicose and pulsing as if he had fixed a ring around its base. Showing the initiative Wolf desired, Fox crammed his snout in harder still. His nose slid through the thin fur bristling from the mercenary's taint, stirring up the smell nested in its fibers like pollen from rustled leaves and stalks. Fox drank in all of this, his body never quite ceasing its lusty shivering.

O'Donnell, with sharp teeth gnashed into a grin, clutched McCloud's head in both of his burly mitts now. He pulled his pup in, crushing Fox's nosepad against his taint, stretching the rim of his anus somewhat in doing so. Fox whimpered, but he also slobbered desperately over Wolf's asshole. His tongue left behind fat ribbons of slobber, made Wolf's fur glimmer even in Sargasso's dirt-dulled fixtures.

Wolf said indulgently, "Not just the outside I want slobbered, McCloud."

"Oh, fuck," bleated Fox - and Wolf recognized the need in his tone. Fox slapped his tongue against Wolf's rim, but he pushed rather than slurped. The wolf's anus parted with only a bit of effort on Fox's part; Wolf uttered a low grumble and a sultry chuckle to match it as Fox entered into him.

Fox tasted and smelled Wolf so intensely that his head swam with musk. His penis leaked so steadily that the sight of it was like a faucet set to a minor trickle, and each throb of his heart - none of its beats spread very far apart now - saw his cock throb.

Fox devoured Wolf O'Donnell, whining and huffing as he ate. He raked his tongue into Wolf, curling it, drawing it back. Already Wolf's anal walls were suffused with drool, and each of Fox's loping drags with his tongue pulled runnels of it out into the open air.

Even though Fox's nose was already crushed and wrinkled into his taint, Wolf pulled him in harder. He listened, delighted, to Fox's air-hungry snorts and whines. They were good sounds, fun sounds. He said to McCloud, pleasure making him sound almost drunk, "Fuck, Fox, that's a good tongue you got. Much better use for it than all of that whining you do whenever your mouth's open."

Wolf looked at Fox, but over his plump genitals he could see only Fox's crown and the points of his ears. Somewhat wistfully he said, "Gonna have to let you go eventually. Before the rescue parties start looking for you." He snickered. "But you'll come back, huh? Bet you will."

Fox's reply was a grumble, but his tongue was still in deep, still slathering and slurping. Wolf felt its tip tickling at what seemed like the deepest reaches of his ass. Wolf was not one to bottom, but the tongue of his rival was an acceptable insertion. He showed his pleasure without shame, groaning and gripping his burly cock as he savored the wormlike writhing of McCloud's buried tongue.

"You eat ass like you're fucking starving," Wolf observed, grinning and growling and beating his tail on the bar. He tamped his foot against the small of McCloud's back, a little giddy-up nudge for the fox who was already eating as hard and fast as he could. Fox's paws caressed him, love and worship in his touch in spite of the usual resentment between rivals. That he enthralled McCloud sexually was delightful to Wolf.

Although Wolf was gripping and fondling his plump penis, he was not outright masturbating. Heavy spurts of precum shot across his belly and his chest as if he were, though, and he was beginning to wonder if Fox's tonguing wasn't going to make him pop. And in a fashion, he was almost offended that Fox had not shot his wad just from the privilege of eating and snorting the ass he craved so desperately. Their first night together, at least, Wolf's ass and a slobbery kiss had been enough to get Fox off without much more than a frot.

Wolf's eye closed, and his body, though tense, seemed to relax against the bar. He said as his anus clenched arrhythmically, "Good boy, McCloud, real good. Gonna reward you. Know that?"

Fox gave no reply. Wolf wondered if he was just too musk-drunk even to grunt in acknowledgment. It didn't seem too far-fetched, not when Fox could demonstrably get off from the smell of musky wolf ass in his nose and tongue halfway down to his gullet. Wolf ruffled his head affectionately - a good rimjob made him happy - and he said in a tone which was almost warm, "Yeah, got a good reward for you..."

McCloud's big, bushy tail swished. The thought of a reward, almost certainly sexual in nature, appealed to him. Fox hated how much he enjoyed the notion, but like any addict, he was at the mercy of his drug. He was still breathing in Wolf's stink, still tasting him; he could, in fact, taste the musk as opposed to simply smelling it, and although it was bitter and left an aftertaste, it was delicious in a way he didn't think he could ever put into words.

"All right, pup!" Wolf snapped, and he was so severe about it that Fox flinched back, plucking free his tongue with a soft wet pop. He stood shivering, deep in the grip of his musk-high, penis twitching and ears flat as he waited for Wolf's latest edict.

O'Donnell stretched, then sat up on the bar, feet dangling above the floor, saliva leaking from his well-polished anus. He beckoned McCloud, who seemed even smaller and weaker than usual to the burly wolf. As Fox approached, Wolf pawed at his hips and his ass, and he pushed a shallow kiss on Fox. Tasting his own anal musk sent a rumble of approval through his chest. He said to the younger pilot, "Taste good, McCloud."

"Yeah," Fox muttered, trying to sound flippant. Instead he was diffident, and even he recognized the whine in his voice.

Wolf brushed his own penis, strummed it. Long and fat and stiff, it begged for attention; Fox's envious gaze fixed upon its uncut perfection. Lowly Wolf said, "Here's your reward. Climb aboard."

McCloud did. He did not protest, not when he couldn't even begin to lie to himself and say he didn't want to bounce in Wolf's lap. He only muttered as he felt Wolf's cock throb between his cheeks, "I hate you, Wolf."

"Love you too, McCloud," Wolf teased, and pecked a kiss on his musky lips. Fox, cheeks lit by blush, kissed him back and got ready to ride.