FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Yeah, wasn't exactly an art major," the primagen snickered, scritching at her furry neck. Her ears were metal, unlike his own, jutting out from the backmost border of her visor. Her highlights glowed pink.

David leaned forward in his seat, the leather office chair creaking under the weight of an adult protogen. "That's no problem at all, Mrs. 336.29," he beamed. "Before we continue though, let's clarify this little trouble you're having," he continued, placing a claw flat on the desk between them.

"Clarify? I need to create a logo, banner, and video for this new simu-A.I. we're about to release. Probably so the board can get their hard-ons or something. I have no fuckin' clue how to design or market," she said, sorting a few loose papers, and then pointing at David. "Your turn. Oughta be good, because I don't really see your current offer workin' out for me."

"Oh, my turn! First, I would like to say congrats on your project. And secondly, I'm going to tell you straight out that your problems just disappeared," he said, a certain appetence beginning to creep over his smile.

"Logo, banner, video," he continued, counting the words off with a claw. "I can already think of the agents I'd assign to get those done, Mrs. 336.39. But... I do sense something- and correct me if I'm wrong, but it feels like a rift between you and upper."

Her pink, pixelated eyes flashed once, the elongated, triangular shape of them immediately returning. "Just call me Polaris," she said.

"Of course," he said gently. Instead of going on, he leaned back when he saw that she had more to say.

"You're right, even if that was a weirdly indirect way of saying it. The directors don't get how the code works, they just push the buttons and make the company move. Sometimes, I wonder if they think we're wizards with the shit they ask us to get done on the bare minimum of funding," she explained. Her fur shone black under the office light.

David nodded, resting the chin of his visor on a balled claw. "You would rather focus on other aspects of your teams' project," he stated. He noticed her fur was the same color black that he was.

"Yes. I get what they're thinking, but investing in the product itself is what's going to be better for everyone at the end of the day, not some flashy fuckin' social media campaign," she said, sighing.

He began to tap his paw against the carpeted floor. "Well, I'm sure you've already seen our prices, and unfortunately I'm not authorized to offer you anything lower," he admitted. The primagen across from him regarded his words with a scowl. "But what does sometimes happen," he went on, his expression and posture relaxed. "Is that the sale amount is lost in processing, and someone has to manually replace that amount in the system. Nobody is perfect, and there have been instances where the total price was reduced by mistake. For something like this, I've seen the cost halved. I don't consider myself a pessimist, but I'd say it's bound to happen again."

Her scowl softened, and her gaze drifted to the desk, rapping a claw against the wooden edge. "You fuckin' serious?" she asked, a genuine curiosity in her tone.

"Absolutely. It's a nasty history."

Her claw ceased its rapping. Her eyes met his. He could tell she was wary, that she was looking to see if his expression would telegraph some kind of swindling intent. He knew he was giving no such thing away. A salesman eager to help, nothing more; with his experience, it was painfully easy to portray.

The primagen shook her head, the ceiling light shining dully on the gunmetal bordering her visor. "Let's do it then," she said. He felt his ears involuntarily twitch.

The display panels on his thighs, shoulders, and cheeks lit up a brighter green than they had originally glowed, and he stood, offering the primagen an extended claw. The wariness in her glare never left as she took it, giving a reluctant shake. "I'm very excited to be working with you, Polaris. And... I'm so sorry I couldn't help you out on this one," he said.

She scoffed. "No problem, Dave." The words were another check in his number of self-reminders to never trust a salesperson. If she had looked into his background at all, she would have known that the price was never set in stone. The jubilation running through him wasn't from fooling her, he hadn't even done that. It was only ever about the sale. Part of him regretted not pushing for more, seeing how far he could be indulged, but a greater part of him liked this woman. She was steadfast and unapologetically honest, some tragically lacking traits in today's world.

"Oh, David please," he chuckled.

"I'm gonna call you Dave."

David smirked and sat back down, closing his digital eyes, an action followed suit by the primagen. They initiated a series of wireless signatures, readings, agreements, all thoroughly processed within less than a second.

Standing from his chair before tucking it back beneath the desk, the protogen hummed satisfactorily, making his way toward the door. As he had opened it, already halfway out, he heard her call after him.

"Yes?" he responded, turning.

She was still-bodied in her chair. "Be the one to try and fuck me over."

He swore it was all he could do to keep from shaking, with both the ripples of his victory fresh on his mind and the sharp pangs of fear he hadn't felt in ages. He loved this feeling.

"We'll see each other again in no time," he said, disappearing behind the door as it swung closed.

The balcony radiated a profuse incandescence, the antique lighting dangling from wooden rafters above the dining area. Every wrought-iron table and chair was occupied by the boisterous guests, all able to watch the expanse of Schorin Five from their vantage point.

"Cammie, you dirty fox! You can't say that shit!" David exclaimed, his fur ruffled and scruffed. He raised a half-empty beer bottle. "Fuck it, cheers to bending humans over and fuckin' 'em 'till they can't walk!" he shouted, laughing as he clinked glasses with a red fox.

Said canid stood up, setting his beer down, his brown, slitted eyes fixed on the scene below, across the street. "With consent though," Cammie said.

David regarded him with a questioning stare. "You're a caveman," the protogen said, turning to find what his friend was looking at. The lantern-like light shone orange on the white metal of his visor-trim, thighs, and chest plate.

The lines to get into the main structure took up as much space as the field of sales stands next to them. He always wondered why these things were such a light show. Whether it was from casting strobes or the glow of displays, most of which were from pedestrian protogens, luminescence polluted the air.

As David's gaze wandered he spotted a familiar color amongst the spectrum of the soon-to-be visitors. It was the soft, feminine pink of the primagen he had shaken claws with that morning. Of course, she did also stand about a foot taller than anyone around her, so it wasn't a challenge to pick her out from the crowd. What was she of all people doing here? He had figured that she would be the type to avoid huge events like this. Maybe she was a whole different person outside the workspace. He wondered...

"Hey Cam, I gotta go. Think I saw someone I know," David explained as he got up and left his beer on the table.

"Woah where the hell are you going? You're just gonna dip? What about the game later?" Cammie called after the protogen even as he was already making his way to the staircase door.

"Sorry!" David shouted over his shoulder. "I'll make up for it some other night!"

As his claw turned the handle, opening a passage into relative darkness, he felt the oncoming surges of explorative excitement.

It was a pain to get in. The line proved as long a wait as his pessimistic side had predicted, and standing alone, checking his watch every two minutes made him realize that he was truly alone for now.

Having already pre-ordered a ticket, he synced up with the entrance scanner, a wireless machine that was common for events of this magnitude. When he finally got in, the cooled air hit him, as did the scale of the place. It was like a behemoth walk-in fridge, but for gluttonous technology instead of fresh food. The corners and ceiling were so dark, as was everything that wasn't centered on the floor, from which protruded great spires and auras of artificial light.

The first row of kiosks laid before him, giving way to a seemingly endless grid of them. People's steps against the metal floor sounded out, joining the conglomeration of playing audio and chatter.

He weaved through the shops and the bodies, some furred, some scaled, some part-metal, some all-metal. A sense of labyrinth-like disorientation began to creep over him; the dread that he wouldn't find her starting to settle and grow in his stomach. As the minutes wore on, he realized trying to find this woman was a waste of time and a waste of the bottle of beer he should've finished with Cammie. Scanning the numerous heads of the visitors for the primagen, he shook his head and turned back the way he came.

"Why the glum face, Mr. Happy-go-lucky?"

She was there, to his right, standing on the same pathway as him, one of many that formed the grid pattern of Schorin Five. Her legs were wholly cybernetic and engineered, down to the raptor-like talon on each of her hind claws, however, the rest of her body excluding her head and a small chest panel, were organic. And fuzzy.

"Heya," he greeted with a lazy wave of his claw.

Seeing her approach in stride, he realized that seeing her upright really put her height into perspective; mostly her being slightly taller than him. He reassured himself that it wasn't intimidating in any way.

Despite the clearly defined features of her lit-up visor, he found the only way to describe her expression was nebulously smug.

"Wow, you don't seem like the guy I met this morning," she commented, studying him.

He smiled, letting himself relax some. And then his eyes flickered, and although it was entirely visual, he swore he could feel when it happened, something his peers commonly called his 'sleepy eyes.' "What can I say? When I'm off of work, I'm off of work. Only thing I care about after hours is having a good time," he said.

The primagen tilted her head, "So you only pretend to be nice when you know it'll get you a sale?"

David put on an air of offense. "Hey, there are other times when I pretend to be nice."

Polaris chortled, crossing her arms. "Why weren't you surprised to see me?"

He felt like he was caught, even though he hadn't done anything necessarily wrong. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You were trying to find me," she stated.

Scratching at the back of his head, he internally scrambled for an excuse. "I mean," he piped up. "I figured you'd be here. Hell, who doesn't come here? Not a shocker that we might run into each other." As he spoke, he noticed a mark on her right arm, which was in better view now. It was a trio of white, upward-pointing chevrons stacked on top of each other, and under the bottom-most one were two small, crossed swords.

"Oh shit," he muttered.

Following his gaze, she looked down. "You like it?" she asked, her tone softening.

Like it? He thought. That was the mark sported by U.N., post-N.A.T.O. soldiers, a rank if he recalled correctly, though which one he was not sure. These days, any time in service came with a body count. Usually in the double digits. The skin beneath his fur felt electric with fear.

"I uh... never knew. Christ, I would've offered to buy you a drink if I had," he said, scratching at his arm, his gaze cast down, unable to meet her eyes.

She chuckled. "This thing doesn't mean anything anymore. But I still would've taken you up on that offer." Her smile was slight, empathetic.

Still lost in the reverie of his own embarrassment, he remained focused on the floor, the ghosts of light dancing on its surface.

"Hey," she said, and he felt a claw beneath his visor, tilting his head higher. "Don't act all shy just because of whatever you heard about grunt-bots. I don't bite, I promise," she reassured, her free claw touching his shoulder. "Normally," she added.

"Sorry," David said.

Beside them, a fixed, standalone wall lit up, illuminating them both. As it pulled their attention in, an animated logo played out, followed by a cut to establishing shots of great, foggy plains, with rocky hills in the background.

A narrator came in, his voice low and thrumming. He described the setting as Northern England. A castle came on screen, its stone walls cold and slate-gray, green moss covering portions of it in irregular sheets.

Mothric Keep was displayed in thin, white text at the top.

"What's the catch with you, David? Why do you give me 'skeleton in the closet' vibes?"

"Only thing I have in my closet is the same shirt, five times," he said, watching the screen as if deeply pontificating about the content of the documentary.

Her expression was pointedly blank. "Do you?"

"No," he replied, his tone heart-felt.

The voices around them seemed to fade out.

"How did you end up picking me for your offer? You obviously had other clients barking up Farraway Corp."

"Wasn't me who picked you," he said. Raising a claw, he tapped the side of his head. "About two centimeters beneath my skull, there's a small implant. Using publicly available data, the A.I. elects the best client out of a group of given people that contact Farraway. 'Best' being a constantly changing set of parameters. Sorry to nerd out on you, thing's been a passion project of mine the last few years."

She turned away from the giant screen, regarding him with disbelief.

"You put a fuckin' chip in your brain?" she questioned.

"Mhmm," he hummed affirmingly.

"Just to narrow clients down?"

"To run the company more effectively. The program doesn't have a limit to its purposes. Thinking with it can be overwhelming, a lot like overclocking. It's easier to handle it over time."

The primagen scoffed, "You're the..." she paused, shaking her head and chuckling. "You're the company owner. And you didn't say shit about it until now?"

The protogen nodded, a sympathetic smile forming on his visor.

Laughing wholeheartedly, she put her claws on her hips. "You are fucking weird."

Exuberance shot through him, rendering spikes in his stomach.

Finally, someone who's honest, he thought.

Polaris' eyes returned to the display, her expression not one of confusion, but of ponderance. He couldn't help but keep his gaze on her. She was striking; an objectively attractive primagen by anyone's standards, but the imposing nature of her frame and even her past made her uniquely alluring to him.

"What'd you plan on doing here?" he asked.

"The tourney. About it."

"How about afterward?"

"How about it?"

"Maybe you could go out for coffee."

"At night?"

"Yeah."

"By myself?"

"Maybe. Or I could take you."

"You don't sound so sure."

"Doesn't matter. How about it?"

Polaris turned to him, incredulity plain on her visor. "What makes you wanna take your business partner on a date?"

"First of all, not business partners right now, just casual acquaintances. Second of all," he paused. "You're honest and fun to talk to. There's no other way I'd rather spend my night."

She hummed, planting her claws on her hips. "Strange for flattery but, I'll take it. How do you figure I've been so honest?"

He laughed. "Christ, can't a guy ask a pretty woman out without being questioned for it?"

"I have good reason," she stated. "I kind of came here to explore and have a good time, not to be taken out. Plus, I don't know who you really are, David."

"Someone who understands," he said. His palms upturned, he brought his claws together, resting against his stomach. "I feel oddly familiar with you, I can be frank with you, and it feels right. But there's more to you. I don't know what it is. I kinda don't like that."

She hummed, regarding him with a temperate calm. "What would you expect of us?" she asked.

David's 'sleepy eyes' flickered. A trickling despondence had edged in on the previously mellow expression. "What we do is hard. I've been in your shoes before, and even though I don't head program teams anymore, my job still has its shitty moments. Don't you wish you could come home, at the end of the day, to someone who knows what you're going through? A relief, a form of emotional security. That's how I see it. Like a team."

She seemed to lose her bearing, the hard skepticism struck from her countenance. Shaking her head, the protogen let her arms fall uncrossed. "You can't just ask for that," she said.

The screen kept playing audio, the visuals painting the pair in changing shades of blue, green, and white.

"Tell me you wouldn't want that," he said.

She gazed at the floor. That's when his eyes truly caught on her. He took her in, the tough, dark fur, perfectly outlined by the light of the display beside her. The metal of her powerful, digitigrade legs shone dully and looked all the more durable for it. The world had hardened her.

"What's stopping us?" he stated, taking a step forth, the cool steel beneath his hind paws was suddenly all too noticeable.

When she looked back up, the weight in her eyes hit him. The desire to fulfill his offer drowned out the fear of letting her down, the fear of not being good enough.

"I'm only asking that you try with me."

Tilting her head, the lines on her visor glowed with intensity. She put a claw tip to his chest and leaned in close. "Fine. But we are not going for fucking coffee."

---

David forgot about his friends. Under the interval streetlights, all he could think about was the woman in his passenger seat. He drove them through a late-night, mostly empty downtown Pittsburgh, the protogen noting the surreal, dream-like experience of it. She had decided dessert, and not coffee, was in order. Ice cream. David knew a great place just a few blocks away.

Like alcohol, the social lubricant of familiarity loosened them up, allowing for more free-flowing, enjoyable conversation between the two. They found the place, parked, and got inside. Perhaps the ice cream helped as well.

Initial suspicion and wariness ebbed into the beginnings of trust and connection. Snark had vanished from Polaris; her laughter full and jubilant. David joked and played with his words, knowing that there were probably very few who understood them as she did.

When they had finished their frozen treats, they left, and she navigated him back to her place. And that particular portion of the drive had been quieted, excited. They both knew the implication of that destination. Their responses to each other were short but eager. They rolled into the driveway. Her house was single-story, cookie-cutter. He thought it was perfect.

The front door opened up to the shrouds of furniture, irregular and hazy shapes in the dark. She flicked the lights on. It was a typical suburban interior, and it didn't reflect Polaris one bit. Living room to the left, kitchen to the right, hallway down the middle.

"So. What do you wanna do?" he asked, trepidly taking in his surroundings.

"What do you think?" she asked in return, walking through the living room before gracefully sitting down on a leather couch. The glance she gave him was one of invitation.

He joined her, plopping down onto the cushions after treading the carpeted floor.

"I don't know, dude. Not a mind reader," he said.

She laughed and shook her head. "Can't smart-ass your way out of this one. What do you think I want?" she pressed.

After a moment of the protogen thinking of a response, she rested a claw on his metal thigh. "Think about it. It's been a long night. We hardly know each other. Already had a bit of fun, why not have some more? Besides, what else would you wanna do?"

He put his claw over the one clasping his thigh. "We could... talk about our feelings," he suggested, although the smile was trying to hide prevailed.

The primagen glowed slightly brighter, and David knew it was on from there. She rose from her spot on the couch, stretching where she stood, as if getting the blood back into her limbs, before she went off toward the hallway. Before she fully disappeared into it, she looked back at David, who was watching her, puzzled.

"Well?" she prompted.

As she left, the protogen took a deep breath in and out, readying himself. He then stood, and after following her paces, he found himself wandering down a relatively narrow passage. Two doors were at the end of the hall, one on the right was shut, one on the left was open. As he approached, he felt like the creak of the floorboards beneath him were absurdly loud, his hearing just one of his senses currently being heightened by the natural adrenaline response his body had induced.

Peeking through the open doorway, he saw her bedroom; the colors of the walls, bed, and dresser all very warm and comforting; maturely toned. And standing out from this interior sat Polaris on the light brown comforter, claws on the mattress, leaning back, drinking him in like one might a refreshing glass of water. Everything had happened so fast, and the feelings that were making themselves so apparent had seemed to spring from nowhere. Arousal, desire, passion, a drive to take what he wanted, each of these more sudden than the last. This kind of luck was always such a rush.

"You've been thinking about this before we even got here," he said, rolling his neck from side to side. Then he interlocked his claws and cracked them, preparing for the intense pressure they were about to undergo.

She said nothing and did not move. Her posture wasn't of one display, but of challenge. Almost guarded, her claws gripping the sheets, either ready to push him back or retreat further onto the bed.

Among those who judged others by their species, there was a belief that despite protogens' and primagens' technologically advanced anatomy, the fur that remained was evidence of their inner animal, a feral sensibility that was only restrained by societal pressure. David knew it was a bunch of shit, but it could always be fun to pretend, to lean into fantastical animal tendencies.

"You seem like you got a bit of wild goin' through you. Think we could play around with that?" he asked as he approached her. "Maybe us 'gens really are beasts behind closed doors."

He got on his knees before her. "Spread your legs."

She didn't budge, even when he set his claws on her thighs. "Spread your fucking legs," he said, this time with a deliberate firmness.

The gaze she held on him was so very alive and intense, carrying with it a coursing energy. Those were the eyes of a killer.

"Didn't you just say we were beasts?" she asked, the insinuation of her tone sending tingles up his arms. "How about you fucking act like it."

The need to fulfill her demand, the need to remove any sense of hesitation, the need to come off as strong-willed and in-control drove him to internalize those words. He pried her digitigrade legs apart and leapt to his hind claws. Already she fought back, and being the larger of the two, even if it was slightly, her strength was tremendous. The protogen shoved at her shoulders, trying to pin her to the mattress so he could slip a claw down between her legs. She grabbed the scruff of his neck and pulled him to the right, hard. He was on the brink of falling completely off her but, managing to hang on, he planted his hind paws on the carpeted floor. Laying his full weight on her, one claw shot to her throat, while the other dipped down, where it found a sudden, unique heat. It was matted fur, her crotch being soft and organic. Trying as best he could to be gentle, he stroked where he felt the softness of her lower lips, tracing the shape even as he fought to her keep down.

His presence there seemed to incite her even more: she pushed his chest, creating a gap between them. And that was all she needed. She rolled back some, then rolled forward, and using that momentum, she forced him off.

He lost his sense of direction as he was thrown to the floor; right onto his rump. Looking up at her, he regained his orientation and sprung to get his legs under himself. She braced for him, anticipating the impromptu tackle.

When they collided, he felt strong claws grip him by the sides. Her body twisted, and David was helpless but to fall in the same direction. The sheets pressed against his back, the mattress giving in as he weighed it down.

Even as he tried to upright himself, Polaris scrambled to get her body on top of his, grabbing him, holding him, using his frame as leverage to control and keep him down. Despite bucking his hips to throw her off balance, the primagen sat on his crotch, her legs on either side of him, essentially pinning him. David pushed at her thighs, grunting, his visor a grimacing series of lines, flashing the expression.

"Probably just wasting your energy," she said.

The trapped protogen pushed again, hardly even shifting her weight. She felt heavy atop him, but it was manageable and frustratingly comfortable.

"Better have enough left over for me," she continued. With an assuredly slow pace, she took hold of both his wrists. Despite his immediate resistance, she placed his claws above his head, leaning down until her visor bumped his.

"You're a fighter," she mused.

He was mad at himself that this wasn't making him mad. Even though he struggled to get out from under her, even though he fought back, no part of him minded this too much. It almost felt... right to be under her. For her to be in control, for him to be the little one. Her body was so close to his, covering him. It gave him a strange sense of security, a conflicted one, but a sense of security nonetheless. This, perhaps, had been what he was missing.

His struggling began to falter, each push and shove weaker than the last. Eventually, wriggling led to quieted stillness, his arms sprawled at his sides, his digitigrade legs flat on the bed. His chest plate rose and fell rapidly. She placed a claw on it, keeping the other on his wrists. He couldn't feel her touch, but it was invigorating because it was someone else's.

Then it was just her claw tips, and they began to trace downward. It tickled the skin beneath his thick fur as they weaved over it, his belly tensing involuntarily. She took her time, feeling him slow, making her eventual destination teasingly apparent. And when she reached it, the nerves in his groin lit up; a fluttering, rising sensation. The tracing paused, and for a dreadful moment, he thought she was going to stop, that she would make him wait longer.

Luck was in his favor, however. She slid back even farther, so that his groin was exposed to the air. His hind paws pushed against the sheets when she cupped his sheath. While most protogens' crotches were metallic scutes, his was natural fur; a genetic abnormality. Fortunately for him, this meant he was all the more sensitive.

Already, a spot of green poked out from the black, fine hair of his sheath, promising the rest of his length, should someone coax it out. She squeezed him, her eyes level with his. That look was almost evil.

"I think I like holding you down like this," she said, even as she stroked at him, brushing the tip of his sensitive flesh. "I think this guy likes it too."

He struggled to keep himself composed, to stifle his heavy breathing as she played with his growing erection. He liked what she was saying. The way she said it. So possessive, so sure of herself, so...

Dominant. That was the fact he had trouble bringing himself to accept. At first, he thought it might a fair bout between them, a consistent back and forth. How had it become so one-sided?

His body didn't care. His slick-skinned cock slipped out from its sheath, responding to the stimulation, ready to be surrounded by tight warmth. The color matched the trims and highlights of his cybernetic portions: a vibrant, glowing green. It pulsed and throbbed, a tapered but thick spire of flesh. Eventually, enough had escaped that she was able to wrap her claw around it, carefully as not to cause any unwanted pain.

She stroked to the rhythm of his throbs, watching with him as it continued to unsheathe itself. Then a notably round bulge formed on either side below his fur.

"Don't tell me..." she trailed off.

Her impromptu handjob had its desired effect, feeding the carnal urges emanating from his groin. Even in his mind, there was a change. Perhaps the most primal part of his brain had more control over him than he was comfortable believing.

Just when it seemed his length was full, there came more. The top of his knot slid out, revealing itself to both of their gazes. Her ministrations became more excited, and so it grew more quickly until it popped out, his entire cock standing tall and proud, the knot at the base a fanciful ornament. And though it stood tall, as was typical for protogens, it could be seen trembling, as ready and eager as its attached protogen.

Her digital eyes were hungry. He swore he throbbed reflexively when he saw her eyeing it like that. And coincidentally, he felt a sudden trickle seeping into the fur on his balls, the droplets warm even against his skin. Was that for him?

The pressure on his wrists lifted away, her claws moving to press into his shoulders. With his newfound freedom of movement, his claws shot down her belly and in between her legs, searching. She shuddered when he found it, a fire cupped in his palm, and he squeezed. He played those engorged lips over his claw tips gently, familiarizing himself with the shape in touch. And then he found the divide between them. Isolating a single digit, he pressed just so, and let it sink in.

Her thighs tensed, a prompt reaction not to the severity of her pleasure, but its mere initiation; him being inside her, even in this relatively small way. With careful ministrations he went in and out a handful of times before he retracted, sensing their need to move on.

The primagen's hips ground against him, and though it was a muted sensation, he felt her cushiony, wet lips smoosh up against his nuts once more. Her being a primagen, it was natural that her nether region was all fur. He reciprocated the motion, raising his pelvis as best as he could while being pinned.

Without warning, she leaned forward, raising herself just enough and balancing her free claw on his chest. It took the breath right from his lungs. Not only did he see, but he felt the tip of his cock poised at her entrance, those organic lips slightly spread and swollen. A droplet fell from the moisture building between her lips, dousing his tapered end in a minute heat.

"That's so fucking hot," he breathed.

She hummed in agreement, and in that same moment, unceremoniously, she lowered her body, catching his end in her pink, beating flower, and then she sank further. Spreading her tight, thrumming inner walls, his dick disappeared, centimeter by delightful centimeter. David couldn't stop the groan that left him.

"Mmmph!" She stifled the noise, almost coming out as a whimper.

Her descent ended when she reached the base of his shaft and her labia kissed his rock hard knot. He threw his head back against the sheets, his fluffy protogen ears folding down. They were both still for a moment, reveling in the abrupt pleasure and euphoric intensity. The need to pause was for the sake of sheer mental orientation.

David initiated the cycle; broke their mutual stillness. He slid until he was halfway out before he pressed back up, hilting to the knot once more, a motion punctuated by an audible squelch. He gripped her sides, feeling her respirations. They were long and sustained. She was composed in that way. It felt deliberate, almost trained, that measure of calm.

He tilted his head up again because he had to watch. He gave himself no choice. He craved the intensity of watching his cock penetrate her slick, silky flesh. It disappeared within her, a sight followed by a sensation: inexorable heat. Being inside someone else simply got hot. God, did he love that. That relaxing, yet somehow invigorating warmth, one that drew the breath right from him, a special kind of bliss. He stroked her sides, feeling up and down.

His hips rolled instinctually, his awareness of their surroundings shrinking by the second, reduced to only the two of them. A protogen and a primagen, intimately alone. Her vaginal muscles clenched on him, and he had to pause mid-stroke. When it passed, he resumed, sliding in. He had to turn off his visual sensors. With an internal mental command, the light of his eyes flickered out. It let him focus on the feelings, isolating them. And feel he did.

She was sopping wet and so goddamned tight. Her insides were smooth and gripping at the time. The tingles that shot down his spine with each thrust made him anticipate the intensity of the next one. He had to keep going. Had to.

So he continued to work his body into hers, his thigh muscles tightening, his hind paw pads curling the slight bit they could.

"If you stop," she suddenly piped up. "I'm just gonna keep going for you. You will shoot your fucking load one way or another."

Instead of lessening his drive, the statement bolstered it, and he only wanted her more. He couldn't get enough of those hips meeting his own; her bouncing in his lap. And now that he had gotten a taste of his shaft kissed on all sides by her walls, he wanted his neglected knot past her lips.

"I'm gonna..." he began, tensing.

She hummed, her digital smile slight. "Already? So eager," she mused.

He groaned as her muscles clamped down on him particularly tight. "Not... not yet," he said, realizing the confusion. "I want to knot you," he breathed.

Her smile widened, her eyes demure. "If you say so."

She wouldn't help him, the initiative had to be his own. Instead of allowing her weight to keep him down, instead of fearing his possible inability to do this, he let his mind empty these premonitions and acted. He strained, planting one arm into the bed, while the other pushed her sideways. With the aid of his legs, she began to lose balance atop him. His cock slipped out, bobbing at attention in the cool room air. She kept herself up with one arm, but he was still moving, still pushing her. He grabbed her thigh and pulled, causing her to fall onto the sheets. He went with the momentum, sparing no chance for her to resist, for her to take back her position, and so he scrambled atop her. She grabbed him, even as he came up between her legs, his loins near hers once more. He placed his claws on either side of her head, maintaining his weight over her.

Though her resistance had been minimal, the small victory emboldened him. When their eyes met, he pressed himself against her. His cock was between her lips and his belly, forced to slide against her, barely tasting her soft, pink inner flesh. He preferred this position much more. It allowed him an even better view of his shaft sinking within her depths. If he could just get to that...

He lined up the tip of his length until it caught at the base of her pussy. It was just barely, but he could feel it, about to dip himself into that wet passage. He rolled his hips forward. And as his end disappeared, swallowed in, he almost had to stop. But he kept going, her honeyed insides hugging him close, leaving no gap of sensation, of pleasure.

"Mmmm..." he suppressed a groan as he hilted himself to the knot. He was going to make it go inside.

"All it takes is a push," she said, her tone one of anticipation.

He braced, using her body as well as the bed, and thrust suddenly into her, against the cursed tightness of her walls. It was so warm, so nice...

It almost felt like it would sink in, he was close. Again he thrust. The liquid heat began to envelop that massive bulb, stretching about its median. Before he could make it another second, he felt himself slip in a few more abrupt inches. He looked down. It was his fuzzy sheath right up to her crotch. Upon seeing it, he felt it. An ungodly warmth.

"Oh... oh fuck," he managed.

Her legs rose and wrapped around his waist, interlocking at the hind claws, pulling on him then, as if somehow trying to get him deeper than he already was.

"Do whatever it takes, I don't mind. Just tie me."

He heard her over his haze of bliss and bodily indulgence. He tried to pull out. "Gghh... ughh... ok..." he muttered. His second attempt was more successful. Pushing on her, his knot was permitted exit, painted by her copious, natural lubrication. A bit of it pitter-pattered on the sheets below.

"Fuck you're wet. Everything about you is so hot," he praised, very well meaning it all.

But he remembered her demand. And he got to it. He dove right into a rhythm, shoving his knot back into her before he pulled it out again, her plush walls refusing to loosen up on him, tighter than ever. He knot-fucked her, her legs guiding his pace, helping to sink him within her. The most sensitive part of his cock being caressed and slid over was too much.

"Mmm... I'm there..." he warned. "I'm there."

Upon listening to those words, she tugged on his hips again, causing his cock to hilt completely inside, clenched by those sporadic vaginal muscles. The mounting pressure in his loins boiled over, and it made him lose focus on everything but the most primal of sensation of closeness. Her core burned hot, that vice-grip she had on him got worse, constricting him in heavenly, peristaltic waves, effectively milking his cock. That was when he felt the first spurt shoot into her, followed another, emptying his balls in just the right place.

He moaned unabashedly. It was an animalistic sound, devoid of restraint or shame. It was the last breath he'd been holding onto.

Through the fog of his climax, he registered the subtle shaking of the woman under him, her thighs shuddering against him as her walls clamped down on him hard.

As he held, arms locked and claws gripping, shooting into her again and again, that burst of euphoria and bliss ebbed away second by second. But even with its diminishing effect, it still twisted his sense of time gone by. Had it been just seconds, or had minutes passed already? It mattered only as a point of curiosity. Otherwise, he couldn't care less.

What did matter was the natural beauty beneath him, her legs still wrapped around him. He cracked a smile at that. As if there was anywhere to go. With his knot fully engorged and secured beyond her lips, the two were properly tied.

Just as he began to miss the high of his climax, a new feel-good warmth kindled in his belly. He realized just how much he liked the way her fur felt against his, how much the heat of her core spoiled his cock, and how much their mutual closeness made him feel comfortable and fuzzy inside.

This kind of afterglow cuddling was unique to species whose males sported knots. David was grateful to be a member of one of them.

"Thanks for that," she said between breaths.

He chuckled. "My pleasure."

She tapped the end of his visor. "You're a cheesy idiot." And then she pulled down, chest to chest, digital face to digital face. He hummed as he melted into their embrace.