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Four times. That ocelot made me cum four times.

Lying in my arms was a handsome nymph, the perfect man (God, why did I just quote a line from 'Vice City'? The ocelot was rubbing off on me...) surrounded by perfect, spotted fur. We lay entangled under a layer of dried sweat and cum mixing into our furry bodies. The electric touch we exchanged that night still lingered in each soft, possessive touch I held him in, from my arm wrapped around his torso to my bare ribs rising against his chest.

The moment we collapsed from the fourth round and tried allowing our libidos to catch up to us, Cherry comically clicked off like a light switch. Next thing I remembered, the ocelot rolled over and his snout buried itself into my shoulder, his cool breath tickling the skin underneath. I tried shaking him awake, only to then hear his snores and relented. Then, panting into tired submission, my body began following suit.

Sleep had always been a friend and an enemy to me; the fact I could see everything in total darkness did not have anything to do with the insomnia. Even when my body screamed for needed rest, my brain refused to surrender until it felt content by the end of the night. My vision drifted from the young man in my arms to the cabin's ugly ceiling. As I traced the growing cracks dancing in the ugly beige, I started contemplating two things at the forethought of my calculating mind.

Would getting up to cover us with a blanket be unnecessary? How the hell did he make me so vulnerable?

Vulnerability. I absolutely hated that adjective. Breaking down your protective walls to obtain intangible assets such as sexual release or a client's trust was one thing, but the ocelot cradled warmly by my side had...done something to me.

It made any intrusive thought involving him suddenly made my body reject it into a forgotten memory. I could no longer consider it. The thought of strangling him in his sleep made me want to swallow a bullet. The casual, violent thoughts, and strategies I'd sometimes impose at the back of my cranium no longer applied to Cherry. My stomach would become queasy, like I was swallowing some moldy bread and drinking it down with expired milk.

What made Charlie Rochford different?

Maybe my madness had finally begun to weaken since the first murder I committed all those years back in Northern Ireland. Maybe I was getting old. Maybe I was just overanalyzing the concept of somebody like myself actually experiencing something akin to love. Ruthless killing machines still held the capacity of emotion. Some still even possessed a portion of a heart. The last time I checked, I'd discarded mine around the same time I murdered my second victim back in Colombia.

His body shifted closer. I sighed, resting my head back onto the pillow and placing a paw on Cherry's atop my nape. He felt so warm. So vulnerable, like me. Little did Cherry know that I would keep our promise. If the 'partnership' would indeed become an actual thing, I couldn't hold back. Nothing could hold me back from molding the feline hustler into another killer.

***

The next day's weather had been perfect. The only problem came with ambience.

"OW!"

"Keep up." I spoke.

"W-Wait for me!" Cherry whined.

"Pouting again?" Another bark etched past my sneering frown, "Keep up, boy!"

Cherry rolled his eyes and eventually found enough strength to kick into the uneven earth, dragging himself behind me on the path. Or rather, what I considered to be an outside trail.

Two long days had already passed since we started exercising, preparing for the worst while planning out how to deal with Corbin, Walker, and the hired assassins from Reaper's Row.

During the first round of training, our routine ranged from running a marathon early each morning to teaching him how to use a (plastic, for the moment) knife in defensive postures and even one of the Five Animals in kung fu. For Cherry specifically, I decided to start tutoring him in Leopard Style, which focused on the practitioner utilizing their elbows, knees, low kicks, and punches as well as the use of claws. Claws were always a nice substitute for sharp instruments.

"So, you know all Five Styles?"

Nodding, I told the ocelot, "...for the most part. I prefer to plan attacks in advance, but it helps to be prepared for any eventuality."

"Huh." He cleared his throat. "Then what's your favorite kung fu style?"

I couldn't help myself from grinning.

"Whatever best helps me kill my target."

It was tough, at first. Cherry didn't have the kind of build I'd expect from a snot-nosed gangbanger, let alone a professional assassin. Or rather, a professional assassin's apprentice. Meaning that, if the lithe ocelot definitely wanted to assist me in taking out the Benefactor for good, I needed him ready as he could be.

Sure, he bellyached nonstop the first day. Whining and complaining about his sore muscles, footpaws and callousing fingers. Sure, he almost refused to crawl out of bed so we could run around the property line for a good hour or so. However, I would not have this attitude, even of we did unofficially declare each other as romantic lovers the previous night.

"Are you really prepared to help me kill Corbin and Walker, or are you still that brat from the suburbs you claim not to be?" Then, as I went to the stairway door leading down from the loft, I added, "Do not disappoint me, Cherry. Now get dressed. Be outside in five minutes."

He stood outside the cabin's garage door roughly four minutes later, dressed in black sneakers, some oversized shorts and a used t-shirt from the day before. When I asked why he'd wear it, Cherry shrugged and muttered something about not wasting clean clothes.

Anyway, like I said, Cherry complained like an entitled cub the first day, whimpering as we ate some stale dinner and relaxed by the TV before going to bed. I practically heard his joints and muscles pop in each movement made, to the point it awkwardly interfered later that night as we lay cuddling.

"Can't you...go easy on me?" he groaned into my arms. "I know ya wanna get me prepared, and I want to be prepared, but still..."

"The furs after our heads will not go 'easy on us'," I used my arm to pull his unclothed torso to mine, nestling him against my chest, "Outside of the cabin, I'm your teacher. We are not lovers until we go inside. Understand?" My lips nibbled on his ear in affection, earning me a soft giggle that certainly made my member more...attentive.

"Understood, Mr. Faoláin..." he nodded. "I'll be a good student for you."

We held off on the roleplay and simply went to sleep. No need to make him hurt. After all, we still had much to do to prepare him.

***

I exhaled, "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. Golden leaves from the surrounding trees fell in gradual layers. Luckily, the 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 feet. "Can you stand?"

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

"No I'm not." 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. "I feel like my lungs're on fire!"

Cherry immediately snatched one of the water bottles from my paws and downed two-thirds of it in one single mouthful. In all honesty, it wasn't unexpected. 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 stoically grunted, "After we stretch, my pupil."

My ears twitched at the sounds of popping joints and aching growls. 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 used together that loosened his muscles (Leopard style 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 struck back several times. 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. "Well, 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, let alone get close enough to brush one of my vulnerable regions, then I'll answer a question. Should I get ten hits before then, and I get to ask you a question. We will both answer truthfully though."

"So what?" He exhaled into his amused whiskers. "We're gonna air our dirty laundry in exchange for getting me to hit you better?"

"Do you have a better suggestion?" I asked, raising a stern eyebrow at the feline brat.

Cherry mused for a second, then tiredly gave a single shrug, "...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). Our fingers and fits seemingly whistled in the air. 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 strike #10 when suddenly, Cherry dodged one of my fists and peevishly landed a claw on my shoulder, then landed a hit on my throat. Black dots pranced over my vision. Choking momentarily and staggering back, my stupefied, slightly pained expression seemed to scare my pupil enough to babble apologies.

The pride had immediately been replaced with concern as he stepped forward. "Fuck, fuck! I-I'm so sorry, Mark! You hurt or...?"

Taken aback at first, I simply chuckled, "No worries." My calloused fingers rubbed the area of the Adam's Apple he'd struck. "Not too bad, 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 at the next revelation. "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 that kind of thing...I mean, 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. Some droplets trickled down his chin, and he pulled away, "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. I furrowed my brows.

"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..." was 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 look at the world with a 'the glass is half-full' perspective. You also don't annoy me like other furs tend to do."

"I'll take it as a compliment!" 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 that I was perfectly 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.