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He slams the Contessa against the cold stone wall. She laughs.

"Reacting to adversity with pointless violence. How prototypically masculine." Her voice remains chillingly calm. "And I thought you considered yourself 'one of the good ones', no?"

"I'll kill you," says Sly, low and dark and furious.

"But that won't bring her back, will it?"

His eyes betray his real priority. He can't help but glance to the operating table. Broken and ruined and definitely, definitely empty.

"That's the irony," continues the Contessa, "of calling you a brute on the basis of your gender. All the violent rage you could ever muster is only a fraction of what lay in her."

Sly feels the last shred of his patience burn up. With a roar, he flings the doctor to the floor. She manages another laugh, although this one sounds a bit more breathless.

He grips her by the throat. "Where. Is. Carmelita."

"If only I knew! I had hardly begun studying the full effects of the procedure. Do you know how resistant she was to my usual methods? How certain she was that eventually, the tables would turn?" She offers a cruel smile. "I certainly hope she was not waiting for you."

Sly's eyes burn with the shame of failure. "Are you trying to goad me into killing you?!"

"What if I am?" she said simply. "You are soft. I imagine you'll do a relatively painless job, unlike that... thing. That creature I have loosed upon the world. Had I been present when the restraints finally broke, I imagine you would be finding my limbs in various corners of this room. As it stands..." She shrugged. Carefully. "Somewhere in the night, there stalks a beast driven only by rage and pain. A true monster." She paused. "...Perhaps my finest work."

Sly buries his disgust. He has to stay focused. "I'm... I have to find her."

"Why?"

The Contessa arches a thin eyebrow.

"I know you are a brainless romantic, but really, Cooper, you could at least try to listen. Inspector Fox is dead. She has been replaced by a creature of base instincts. In my professional opinion, playing the hero will just get you killed."

"I didn't ask." His voice is certain - more certain that he feels. "If nothing else, I have to stop her from hurting people."

"More people."

"She doesn't need any extra guilt once she's back to normal." He glares. "Because she will be. I'm going to undo whatever the hell you did to her."

The Contessa laughs, calm and cold.

"I did less than you think, child. Despite our airs of sophistication, we are all merely animals."

---

Those words ring in Sly's head as he moves through the night.

The Contessa is now under tight security, and Sly is finally free to search the area around her "re-education" facility. He's so angry with himself that Carmelita ever ended up here. Angrier still that he was too late to save her.

But he's never given up on her, and that hasn't changed tonight. No matter what that witch might claim, Sly knows Carmelita isn't gone. Not yet.

Finding her is easy. He just follows the trail of destruction. Shop windows smashed at random. Claw marks on a wall, indicating a scrabbling upward climb. Move the same direction, rooftop to rooftop, and...

His eyes land on a building and his fur stands up.

He knows. He doesn't know how he knows, but something is flagging as dangerous. Sly trusts his instincts - they've rarely let him down. The hard part will be ignoring them. He has to fight his natural impulses and walk directly toward the danger.

He will, though. He will for her. Jaw set and cane gripped tight, he presses forward.

As always, his hunch is solid. Closing in, he can see a trail across the nearby rooftops, ending in a freshly-broken window. This decaying tower wasn't going to win any awards anyway - abandoned apartment block, looks like - but Sly can tell the glass was only recently shattered. He lets himself in the same way. A stairwell. He heads up.

Too easy. Sly wishes it was harder. If it took more concentration, he wouldn't be alone with his thoughts. Wondering what he was going to find. Who. But the evidence remains clear, and he follows it to a door. Scratched. Open.

Sly pushes aside his growing urge to turn and leave - his instincts got him here, but they've served their purpose. He takes a moment to stand very, very still. He listens.

Something's breathing on the other side of that door.

Sly isn't one for overthinking. Instead of agonising over his approach, he finds himself pushing forward almost automatically - taking his urge to flee and inverting it. The door creaks open. He creeps inside.

Nothing happens.

Ears up, eyes moving, Sly takes in this old apartment. But he doesn't see her. She's here, her presence is loud and furious, but she's not to his left or right or-

The door closes over without him touching it, and Sly feels several emotions at once. There's even room for pride. She outplayed him.

A second later, a snarl tears the air. From the blind spot by the front door, Sly gets tackled.

The only response he could muster was turning to face her. It changes nothing, except that he's pinned to the floor face-up, not face-down. This gives him a view of... of her. She's still her. Isn't she?

The underpinnings of her braid must have come loose at some point. Her hair is wild now, spilling down her back. But not as wild as her eyes. Sly has seen Carmelita angry - at her angriest, even - but this is different. It's not powered by annoyance or ideals or a shared history. By thought. It's the opposite. Completely primal.

The fox pulls her lips back over her very, very sharp teeth. Teeth inches from his face.

"C-Carmelita?" Sly's got his cane between his body and hers - it's the only thing keeping her at bay. For now. "Carmelita, it's me. It's Sly. Can you-?"

She lunges in closer, and it takes all the strength in Sly's arms to hold her back. Sly is stronger than he looks, after years of climbing walls and cracking heads. But he's outmatched by this... by her.

It's still her. It has to be. And grips that thought as tightly as she's gripping him.

She presses her body into him - and because it's Carmelita, and Carmelita without restraint, he feels every ounce of that pressure. Her fur is still soft... and so, his body instinctively notes, is her chest... but underneath is hard muscle. Coiled and powerful and ready.

She snarls right in his face. His mouth is drawn too, but in a grimace of effort. It's not working. He's losing. Regrets assail his panicking mind - what was his plan here? Did he really think she would listen? That he could take her in a fight? - but above all, above even the fear for his life, is shame. She might really be gone. And he's powerless to help.

That's the last thought in his head as she reels back suddenly, taking his cane with her. There's a clatter as she tosses it aside, and then she's shooting back down. Sly tenses his muscles and shuts his eyes and inhales his...

...well. Not his last breath. She slams into him, alright. But compared to the feeling of her fangs in his throat, that's very welcome. Instead of her mouth, it's her nose. Keeping him pinned to the floor, she's sniffing along the fur of his neck. Hot breath on his skin.

Sly squirms a little, but it's not like he could stop her. He hopes for the best. Maybe this is what she needs. If he endures this weird indignity - which, again, is so much better than the love of his life murdering him with her bare hands - then she'll...

Yes. Yes! Sly lets a thrill of hope run through him as he spots something in those furious, animalistic eyes. Recognition.

She lets out a low growl, but it's quiet. He nods. Carefully. "That's right...!"

She growls louder.

"It's me! It's S-!"

The air is knocked from him as she pins him down even harder.

He can only let out a confused gasp as all of her strength presses him into the floor. He twists, reflexively, and she grips him even tighter. Wrists pinned. Ankles pinned. Hips...

Sly bites back a low groan. She's pushing her hips into his.

At first he writes it off, maybe willfully, as unintentional. But she does it again, and again. And there's no pretending it's a form of restraint, the way she's keeping down his limbs. Not when she tries a few different angles. Not when she works herself into a rhythm.

Not when she hisses out a sound of need, right into his captive ear.

Sly's heart is pounding again. The Contessa said that Carmelita would be ruled by her instincts, but there are a lot of instincts in a fox beyond hunting and violence. And if she recognized him... If she was using him to...

Once he realizes what's happening here, a lot of thoughts hit him all at once. Part of him is delighted that, deep down, she does want him. Badly. Part of him is frightened of what might happen the second she has her fill.

But academically - overriding his own instincts of lust and survival - Sly worries. He's a gentleman. A gentleman does not take advantage of a lady when she is compromised, whether through alcohol or other... other reasons. He can't do this. He wouldn't.

One tiny problem. Carmelita hasn't gotten that memo.

By now, there's no other word for it - she's humping him. Grinding herself into his body, desperate for release. Her jeans may be ripped in places, but they're intact, and getting in her way.

Sly steels himself. Tries to ignore how his body is inevitably reacting to this treatment. He's still got his own mind, and he has to use it. Figure out some way of resolving this, without...

Then something changes. Carmelita wraps around him. She shivers. And she lets out a tiny whine.

Her need, unfulfilled, is cresting into frustration. She can't take what she wants with brute force, but that's the only tool she has left. So she just presses herself as hard as she can against him - instead of, Sly realizes, losing her temper and moving on.

With every ounce of his quiet dexterity, Sly manages to slip one hand free. He moves it, slowly and carefully, making sure not to startle her. And he gently strokes her hair.

The effect is immediate. She huffs warm breath in his face, and her grip tightens even more. He keeps going, focusing attention on her sensitive ear, and she begins to growl out a drunken purr.

"That's it... Everything's okay..." At the right moment, Sly frees his other hand, and scratches the opposite ear. This is working. He's calming her down. Once violence and... other things... are off her mind, he can move her.

Carmelita closes her eyes for a moment, savouring his touch. When she opens them again, she looks noticeably more focused. Not quite herself, not yet, but no longer a raging beast.

"Carmelita, that's it! Just keep-!"

She calmly reaches down with those powerful, unhindered hands, and calmly rips his shirt open.

Sly barely has time to react before she dives down again, burying her nose in his chest. Drinking in his masculine scent, deeply. He calmed her down, alright. Calm enough to remember how to tear off clothes.

"U-um!"

His voice goes ignored - she's only interested in his body. She sniffs along his fur, from his chest to his stomach and further, until she meets fresh resistance from his belt. Another powerful motion, and he's fully exposed to her. His cock, already partly stimulated, stands half-erect in the cool air.

"Okay but seriously do not bite m-"

Carmelita lowers her face into his crotch. As she sniffs him, licks him, Sly can't hold back a moan. This is bad. It feels good.

His upper body is freer - those powerful paws are on his waist now, holding him place as she hungrily tastes him. He tries to think clearly and weigh his options. He should probably try to signal for help, embarrassing as the thought sounds. He has to put a stop to this.

But... can he? Wouldn't interrupting her just make her angry? A fresh spike of pleasure shoots up his spine, begging him to re-evaluate the situation.

Carmelita pulls away suddenly. She's had her fill of sniffing and sampling him. She's ready for more. Sly's dick, ignoring his mind, feels the same. He's hard, and wet, and that's all she cares about. She straddles him, her stronger legs keeping his pinned to the ground...

And growls. Snarls. Whimpers. Her tight jeans are too much for her clumsy paws.

Sly bites his lip. He tries to take a steadying breath, but it doesn't really help. The jeans may be tight, but not so tight that they're fully blocking out Carmelita's scent. His body knows what she needs. And that really is the right word. The only word that he can think of, when he takes in her face.

Need.

He acknowledges the plan in the back of his mind - the grim reality a dumb, adolescent part of him is dying to just accept. He can calm her down. He just needs to... tire her out a little. If she gets impatient, she could disappear. If she gets angry, she could hurt him. The best option is to give her what she's begging for, right here and now. And to have an honest, awkward discussion about it once she's fully back.

Sly catches her eye. He moves with deliberate calm, careful not to startle her.

And he unbuckles her jeans.

He could already smell her need, but the moment her crotch is exposed, her scent hits him like a truck. To say nothing of the sight... He's never seen anyone so wet.

Her breath hitches. He wonders if there's enough space in her focused, spiralling mind for gratitude. Maybe he earned himself a few points. But she probably still sees him in exactly one way. Not a criminal, not a friend, not a person. Just a warm dick.

She doesn't wait for him to finish stripping her. She shreds off her jeans, just as viciously as she handled his clothes. Soon, her powerful legs are bare. She doesn't bother removing her top. He won't be gently caressing her breasts tonight. No foreplay of any kind.

She just aligns her burning pussy to his cock, and an instant later, plunges down.

"F-fuck!" Sly's whole body reacts. But he can't go far, right back to being pinned under her. Far, far more intimately this time.

She lets out a roar of pleasure. Relief. Her walls twitch madly around him, but the rest of her yearning body gets a moment of respite. For the first time, Carmelita's features soften. Her eyelids flutter, and all Sly wants to do is plant a gentle, romantic kiss on her lips...

But the moment soon passes, and the same burning focus returns to her eyes. She presses against him with what's almost a kiss, wet and feral. Strong hands gripping fistfuls of his fur, his hair, and keeping him in place.

Sly exhales against her. Instinctive surrender. He has a relief of his own; he's been relieved of responsibility. From this point on, there's no pretending he has even an ounce of control in this situation. Now his role is to lie back and let her use him.

And she does. Her hips totally dominate him, humping him with all the reckless strength she has. Fast and merciless. Sly participates, but it's all he can do to match her movements and keep her at a workable angle. He's certainly not doing any thrusting himself. There's no doubt. He's not fucking her. And they aren't fucking each other. She's fucking him.

A lance of pleasure shoots through him, dick to brain, and he shivers. He can't deny the effect this is having on him. Part of him always wanted Carmelita to silently mount him and use him as her toy. Claim him completely. But he can't just zone out and take it. He's kinda concerned by what might happen if he cums before she does...

So he tries to focus, and control his arousal, and manage his breathing. The last one is hard, with Carmelita's mouth practically mauling his own. There's nothing dignified about her movements - just pure animal lust. Sly has to suppress a whimper when he realizes that thought turns him on.

He keeps his legs limp and flat against the ground. Submissive and open. But his arms are soon wrapped around Carmelita's body. She's so, so warm. He clings to her, feeling the muscle under the bristling fur. Holding on to the thought of calming her down and getting her to safety.

"This is for you. This is all for-" Her wet snatch squeezes him tightly, and Sly breaks their 'kiss' to suck in a desparate breath. "H-haah, Carmelita...!"

No acknowledgement. She just buries her nose in his neck, drinking his scent as greedily as she milks his cock. Sly moans, helpless.

But even still, his mind is working. Instinct. She must be driven by pure instinct - he's never known her to be so obsessed with how he smells. And if that's what she wants, there's only one thing that will calm her down. He needs to give it to her. He needs to give her his cum.

Sly starts slow, knowing he needs to balance being active and remaining submissive. He strokes and smooths her fur with gentle hands. He kisses her face and makes quiet noises of arousal, and approval, hoping they'll register. They seem to. Carmelita's movements change. She's less focused on keeping him pinned down, seemingly aware that he's her willing sex toy. Her grip remains tight, but instead of pushing him against the floor, she's keeping him tight against her body.

Once he knows its safe - once he's made it clear he belongs to her - Sly begins to thrust.

His motions are careful, but Carmelita reacts immediately. He can't help but feel some pride when her entire body shivers against his, her tail thrashing in pleasure. For a moment, she kneels there and adjusts to the sensation, but it doesn't last long. Soon she's squeezing him again. Her muzzle, her sharp teeth, right in his ear.

"Mmmrrrhh..." Warm breath, right against his fur. "Mmrr."

'More'? Did Sly imagine that, or was that almost a coherent word? He doesn't have time to dwell on it. He can only hope that this is working. He's not about to stop. He can't. So he gives her more.

Soon he has a rhythm. He thrusts into her, fast but steady, and she lets him. Oh, there's still no question who's on top - not with her fangs against his face and her claws on his shoulders. But she's not pinning him down any more. Her hips, instead of trapping his own, are grinding him in a complementary motion. He surrendered to her, so now he has freedom to move. She knows he'll use it correctly.

Alongside the building arousal comes another kind of satisfaction. He's doing this. Whatever the hell it is, he's doing it. And he's going to see it through. He's going to make her cum.

That thought makes his cock twitch, hard, inside her. She yelps, just briefly, but Sly definitely hears it. That also makes him notice that she's panting. Her body, warm from the beginning, almost feels like it's overheating. He manages a glance at her face. Eyes closed, mouth open. Hair and fur wild. Beautiful.

Another hard twitch. This one takes him by surprise, too. "Carmelita," he huffs, "I'm close. If you keep doing that-"

She growls right in his ear. "Yyyyyghhh..."

"I'm gonna-" His whole body jolts. "Fuck, I'm gonna-"

"Yyyzzz!" she hisses, and this time Sly definitely hears it. The word. The command.

He pumps and pumps and buries himself inside her warm snatch, right to his hilt. Nothing moves for just a second. And then he cums.

Sly lets out a long, slow, sigh as the tension finally drains from his body - and his jizz flows out into her. Suspense and fear and hardcore sex. His heart-rate gets its first chance to recover. It's a big orgasm, with an equally big load, but the physical pleasure is almost simultaneous with a feeling of relief.

Which is short-lived, as - against his explicit earlier request - Carmelita fucking bites him.

She's having the opposite reaction. Her body is finally claiming what it wanted, and it rewards her with a loud, powerful, shameless climax. Carmelita makes a noise Sly has never, ever heard anyone make before, right over him. Her arms become a vice, as do her soft thighs, keeping him utterly restrained as he delivers his precious genetic material. And her jaws sink into his shoulder. Hard.

"Ow! God, that's...!" Sly manages to suppress any further reaction, especially when he notices how much her whole body is shivering. Knowing it was instinct, not anger, he grits his teeth and bares it.

He gently embraces her, and starts to stroke her hair, smoothing it out. Even as his orgasm continues, he quietly guides her through her own.

"Just breathe, beautiful... That's it... You're doing so good..."

His efforts begin to pay off. He feels Carmelita's tightly-wound body relax, slowly, in his arms. Gradually, her trembling stills to nothing.

He's done it. The plan worked. She's calm.

With the softest whine, Carmelita unclamps her mouth. She makes no move to let him pull out, though. His dick, although spent, remains comfortably within her warm walls.

There's a silence for a moment, one Sly is almost afraid to break. It could all fall apart here. Her anger could return, leaving him out of options and ideas. But that worry melts away when she starts to nuzzle at his fur. She even licks at his shoulder, soothing the feeling of the bite.

Sly steadily strokes her. "Carmelita? Are you with me?"

"Rrr..."

His heart sinks a little, although he quickly chides himself. Did he really expect to fix her with his dick? This was just the first step. He needs to get her more thorough help now.

Still, she surprises him. The strength returns to her arms - not to the same levels, but enough to give him a very firm, very possessive cuddle. She looks him dead in the eye and says something.

"rrRRrnnnngteh..."

"R-?" He blinks, then breaks into a huge smile. "Yeah! It's Ringtail! Your Ringtail is right here, don't worry..."

"Rngteh," she agress, satisfied.

Then, her fangs in his face, she lets out a huge, contented yawn.

And settles down on him.

And doesn't move.

"...Carmelita?"

He's starting to notice how heavy a muscular fox can be. Sly wiggles to no avail. He can't budge her.

"Carmelita, c'mon." He very very gently tugs an ear. "We gotta-"

A warning growl rises from the depths of her throat, then subsides when he stops bothering her. Another few moments pass in silence, until there's a new sound.

She's snoring.

"Well," murmurs Sly, completely trapped under a pile of satisfied fox. "Dang."