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Disclaimer: The following story contains sex between consenting anthropomophic adults. If you are too young to legally view such content, or if such content does not appeal to you, leave now.

The Refugees' Caretaker

* * *

Alan glared at the gun on his table.

Recovered from the small battle at the carnivores' arena, the weapon resembled a late nineteenth century single barrel rifle, but such guns had been relics even before civilization's collapse centuries ago. He doubted any could have survived so long in one piece, let alone remain operational. After reviewing several files in his records, he'd found too many slight discrepancies in the weapon's dimensions for it to truly match any gun made between the eighteenth and twenty-second centuries, and his fears were confirmed.

This rifle had been built very recently.

He didn't look up from the gun when Ileni walked into the room, even after he had felt her eyes on his back for longer than a minute. If not for him, the rabbit would probably have lived her entire life without running across a gun, let alone get shot by one. But then again, if not for him, and Cill, Ileni might never have lived long enough for her dormant, supernatural strength to make itself known. Dwelling on maybes and probablies would never change what had already come to pass.

When it was clear the rabbit was waiting for him to move, he finally turned around to greet her. "Ileni," he said with a smile, though he was careful to keep his eyes on her face. She had her arms crossed in front of her shaved chest, shivering as she had ever since awakening the previous evening, and held her legs pressed together in an attempt to protect as much of her modesty as she could. She really was a beautiful female, but Alan didn't think she would consider that beauty much of a blessing after the traumatizing week she'd had. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Instead of answering, she looked past him to the rifle that rested as if on display on the otherwise empty table, the only objects in what used to be one of the tower's upper custodian closets. "Why is that here?"

"Research," he said curtly, though he kept the smile on his muzzle to soften the gruff response. The rabbit had enough worries of her own without him adding his concerns to them. "You don't need to fear it. I dumped its ammunition before bringing it from the arena."

She winced, and he reprimanded himself for bringing up such a painful subject. An awkward silence passed between them, one of many such pauses that had been echoing between the tower's new occupants since they arrived. They were all caught in a confused tangle between pride for their long deserved victory and shame at what it had taken for them to seek their freedom in the first place. Ileni's shame and embarrassment came from an altogether different source, though, and Alan knew it was all the rabbit could manage to stay afloat in her tumultuous sea of raw, confused emotions.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You're not disturbing anyone," he said, and had to remind himself not to reach out and grab her shoulder when she turned to walk away, remembering how she would jump as though burned any time someone touched her. Goodness knew the poor rabbit had reason for her sensitivity, but her aversion to contact was already making her miserable. "Is everything all right?"

She hesitated then, half turning back toward him, and scratched at an itch below the middle of her ribs. "It's nothing," she said, giving herself a visible shake and hurrying down the hall away from him.

He let her leave without any more questions, though he knew she had meant, "It's nothing you can help me with." Her itch was too deep for her fingertips to soothe.

With a quiet, subconscious growl, Alan turned back to the gun and wished as he often did that Charles or Jonathan Vanderhaus were still alive, so that he could give them a piece of his mind for the mess they'd made of things. Then, feeling restless, he left the little room as well.

He made his way toward the nearest stairwell and climbed down toward the tower's central levels, where the refugees were staying. Alan had to check up on them every once in a while to make certain they didn't go hungry, and to help mitigate any disagreements that arose before they heated into actual violence. Everyone's nerves were raw, and tempers were constantly flaring at the slightest hint of an insult. In a way, he was happy for it, since they finally felt enough freedom to express themselves openly without fear of lethal punishment, but they needed to find a way to vent their pent up aggression without hurting each other.

A dozen or so floors down, Alan entered what used to be one of the tower's open communal rooms, emptied now of its centuries-rotted furniture, its ancient carpet long since faded to dust, so that it looked more like a vast garage than a comfortable gathering place. Its only inhabitants now were a pair of female white tailed deer sitting with their backs against a wall and chatting companionably. They were Millu and Cass, cousins, if Alan remembered correctly, though he always had trouble recalling the exact relations between the large deer family that made up a third of the refugees. It was all he could manage to keep their names straight, which he had taken a little extra effort to learn, since many of the refugees had spent the last few months of their lives being referred to as "it" or "that one."

"Millu. Cass," he said, with a nod of greeting for each as he crossed the large room to another doorway.

They nodded back hesitantly, and Cass went as far as to offer a polite, "Good morning, Seer."

He went on his way with a smirk tugging at one corner of his muzzle. Naming himself "The Seer" when he'd first met Sophan had been a private joke of sorts, a play on words based on his tower's original name. Certainly, Cill deserved the title far more than Alan did, given her near clairvoyance, but he had been in a melodramatic mood at the time and had thought nothing of it. Somehow the name had spread through the refugees since then, even though he'd they'd had almost no contact with Sophan while the cheetah was conscious. Alan suspected Cill had a hand in it.

The next room was empty, but the one past it, an old office of some sort, hosted four males playing some game of tossing pebbles and drywall fragments into a circle drawn on the dusty floor, two white tail bucks, a skunk, and a chipmunk. Seeing that they were getting along well enough, Alan passed them by with a brief nod of acknowledgment.

At first, he'd tried to keep tabs on all of the refugees to make certain none of them had fallen through one of the many holes in the tower's ancient floor, or off the edge of one of its broken-walled outer rooms, or snuck up to one of the tower's upper levels that he'd forbidden to them. They had a tendency to isolate themselves into small groups, though, separating their genders to avoid embarrassing themselves or offending each other, and as many that roamed and explored the labyrinthine skyscraper, he had to trust in their own good sense to keep them safe.

He came across a squirrel, two mice, a beaver, and several more deer before reaching another vast garage-like room with a single occupant standing with his back against a steel support column. He was a black stallion, one of the three males that Alan had learned had raped Ileni to save their own lives in the arena. Those three had all become outcasts from the other refugees, even though most of the others had survived their own arena matches, too. They had come to regard Ileni as some sort of savior, and some were almost to the point of worshipping the poor rabbit, so the males that had violated her were under constant verbal attack by the others. It was one of the points of contention among Alan's guests that had made him need to step in to stop fights before they became lethal.

"How are you holding up?" Alan asked the stallion. Of all the refugees, he was the only one who had never provided a name, and none of the others seemed to know it.

At the sound of his voice, the stallion jerked upright from where he'd been leaning on the column, standing tall with his eyes locked on something straight in front of him. "I'm fit enough to do as I'm told, sir," he said stiffly, his youthful voice surprising as always coming from such a physically mature male.

Even though he'd expected such a response, Alan was taken aback by it. The stallion had spent far too long among Chicago's predators. "That's not quite what I meant."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"You've said nothing to apologize for," Alan said, stepping closer to the big male. He almost reached up to grab the stallion's head and force him to look at him, but he'd seen the way the horse responded to any touch. Where Ileni always flinched away from physical contact, the stallion would set his jaw and endure it, always expecting something unpleasant to follow, yet never raising a hand to defend himself. Besides, Alan couldn't reach the other male's face if he tried, not without jumping, at least. He flicked his wings irritably. "I meant to ask if you're comfortable here, or if there's anything you need. Have the others still been harassing you?"

The horse's ear twitched, but he didn't otherwise move a muscle. "I have no complaints, sir." With a sigh, Alan walked away from the stallion, but turned back in surprise when the other male cleared his throat. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"It's Aubur, sir. The rabbit."

"What about him?" Aubur had been one of the first to stir up conflict against the three who had unwillingly abused Ileni. "Has he given you any more trouble?"

"No sir. Not really. He was acting strangely, is all. Seemed to be having trouble breathing, and was sweating." Nude and shaved, the refugees were usually covered in goose bumps brought on by the unseasonably chilly drafts through the tower, so someone sweating was indeed unusual. He could just be having indigestion, though. "I think he was heading toward the showers, sir."

Alan nodded. "I'll check in on him."

The tower's plumbing system had fallen into disrepair centuries ago, of course, but some of its porcelain sinks could still hold water, and he and Cill had recovered two bathtubs from Jonathan Vanderhaus's time capsules over the years. After building a rain collection system and routing it to one of the tower's old rest rooms near an outer wall, they had no want of fresh, clean water. It had been a simple matter to poke some holes into several large black trash bags, also from the time capsules, so that they made makeshift showers when filled with water and hung from hooks on the bathroom's ceiling. Though their jailers had kept them obsessively clean, most of the refugees had already used the showers twice each, though they hadn't been free for more than a day and a half. They seemed to be trying to wash off the stink of their previous lives.

Nonetheless, when he came to the shower room, Alan found Aubur alone, standing with his back to the winged fox in one of the basins, leaning with his hands braced against the wall in front of him while cold water dripped onto his bare-skinned back from a nearly empty bag over his head. When the rabbit turned at the sound of Alan's footsteps, he saw why the showers were otherwise deserted, and why the black stallion had thought the rabbit seemed out of sorts. A rampant erection rose from the lapin's sheath, rising at a slight angle away from his stomach. Alan wasn't surprised by the miserable expression that the rabbit was late in covering with a grim mask of neutrality; the refugees had been treating signs of arousal like some sort of disease, which was obviously already beginning to conflict with their heightened sex drives.

A frown creased Aubur's forehead when Alan did nothing other than stare at him sympathetically, and the rabbit turned back around, stepping backward out of the tub and shaking his furred feet out over the broken-tiled floor. Then, unexpectedly, he lowered himself onto his knees and bent over the tub's rim, his little tail rising to display his shaved rump, cheeks relaxed and slightly parted so that his tail hole and scrotum were in easy view.

Alan's eyes went wide in surprise, and he could feel the brisk air against the tip of his member, rising from his sheath at the sight. His ancestors' genes hadn't been manipulated like the refugees', so he had somewhat more control over his sexual instincts than they did, but that didn't make him immune to the pheromones that had been drifting through the tower like a nearly visible mist since their arrival. A rabbit presenting himself like this was almost more than he could withstand.

When he still made no move toward the prone male, Aubur looked back over his shoulder at him, but even though the rabbit waggled his butt enticingly, he wore a furious glare. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with hostility. "Isn't this what you came for? You heard someone smaller than you had finally cornered themselves alone and marched to take what you want from them without a second thought, right? Why else would you be here?"

Alan was growling before the rabbit finished his second question. By the end of it, the fur on the back of the fox's neck was standing on end. "I'm here," he snarled, "because I heard you were acting strangely, and I wanted to make sure you were all right. Not to rape you! When are you people going to realize we're on the same side? I've been trying to be polite so far, because I know you've all been traumatized, but I grow tired of being regarded as the enemy while you shelter under my roof. If you really believe I'm the same as the predators who abused you for so long, you're free to leave whenever you wish."

"You can lie to me, you can lie to yourself, but that red branch growing out of your sheath makes it plain what you really want."

Taking a deep breath to reign in his temper, Alan finally walked across the room to stand beside Aubur, ignoring the way the rabbit's entire body tensed with apprehension when he stepped beside him. "What is yours saying that you want, then?" he asked sternly, sitting on the tub's rim next to the other male, whose long ears folded back against his head in obvious embarrassment. "Does your arousal mean you actually want to be taken?"

"Of course not!" Aubur snapped, but he didn't rise from his prone position.

Alan sighed. "Of course not," he repeated, and one of those all-too-common awkward silences passed between them. "Look," he eventually said, "you have nothing to be ashamed of. I explained to everyone how the anthros' species evolved from humanity when you first arrived. You know your hormones were enhanced almost beyond the point of controllability. If you feel pent up, just masturbate."

When Aubur didn't reply, Alan followed his gaze to a splash of translucent white liquid on the wall beside the tub, drizzling down through the crack between wall and tub to the wash room's floor. "Three times," the rabbit finally said, his tone self condemning. "Three times in just a few minutes, and it still won't go down. None of the others have had this much trouble controlling themselves." He hung his head until his ears dipped into the tub's cold water. "Something's wrong with me. All that time with the predators must have tainted some part of me."

Alan shook his head, his anger fading back to sympathy as quickly as it had risen. "Nothing's wrong with you. You're a rabbit."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Aubur said indignantly, whipping his head up to glare at Alan fast enough to flick water at the fox's face with his ears.

Alan tried to swallow a chuckle, but his amusement must have shown on his face, because the lapin's expression was growing darker by the second. "Just this," the winged fox explained hastily. "Some anthros get a few extra traits from their animal half than others. Take the cat and dog races, for example. Some male canines have tapered members that, when fully aroused, develop thick knots at the base, while others have straight, smooth penises. Likewise, some felines have barbs that rise from their erections. Others don't." Too late, he realized this was the wrong approach to take. A powerful blush was turning the insides of Aubur's ears bright pink, and he had his jaw set, glaring at the wall in front of him. Without a doubt, the rabbit had first hand experience with every type of predator's member Alan could hope to describe.

"Let me put it this way," he said, changing the direction of his explanation. "How many brothers and sisters do you have?"

"Six brothers and eleven sisters. Why?" His frustration mediated by curiosity, Aubur finally rose from his kneeling position and sat on the tub behind the fox, forgetting his full erection for the moment.

Alan's eyebrows rose. He hadn't been expecting quite that many. "Well, how many of those are twins or triplets, and how many years' difference is there between the oldest and youngest?"

"Two sets of twins, and. . . ." He thought for a moment. "Janie's fifteen years older than Kev, I think."

"That's more than one child, or set of twins, each year," Alan went on. "With nine months between conception and birth, that leaves less than three months after each birth before the next conception. Do you remember how difficult I told everyone it is for anthros to conceive?"

Aubur just nodded silently.

"I bet you didn't see much of your parents once your mother recovered after each birth, did you?"

"No," the rabbit said, then blushed furiously again, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "We sure heard them, though."

"And that's what being a rabbit has to do with it," Alan said with a nod. "Some lapins don't have any stronger a sex drive than most anthros. Others. . . ." He just glanced down toward Aubur's exposed penis.

"I . . . I see." The rabbit stared at the floor away from Alan, still embarrassed, but hopefully no longer ashamed. "I guess I'll just keep pawing off until it gets better, then."

The matter settled, Alan got to his feet. "If you ever want any help with it, just ask."

"So you do want to take me, then." This time, there was only a hint of hostility in the rabbit's voice.

"It's like you said before," he said, giving his voluptuous tail a wag and his hips a small, teasing sway as he walked toward the wash room's exit, "my sheath doesn't lie. But never think I'll touch you without your consent. Eventually you rebels are all going to have to come to terms with the brighter side of sex. You'll be a whole lot happier once you do."

He'd reached the doorway, but stopped and looked back over his shoulder when Aubur asked him to wait. "Maybe," the rabbit began, refusing to look Alan in the eye as his long ears nearly glowed with his blush. "Maybe I could use a little help after all."

Alan blinked, certain he had to have misheard.

"Just a little! I mean, my paw just hasn't been getting the job done."

"Are you sure?" Alan took a tentative step back toward the rabbit. "I admit you're very attractive, but I'm not going to do anything you're not certain you want."

Aubur gulped audibly, his eyes glued to the fur between Alan's thighs. "It's not like I can ask anyone else. None of the others would understand."

"You might be surprised. I imagine most of them are having trouble with their hormones, too, even if they're not as strongly affected as you." Now that the offer was in the open between them, it was very difficult for Alan to say what he said next. "Look, if there's someone you'd rather get help from, anyone in particular, you should ask them. Sex is something best shared with someone close to you."

The rabbit considered for a long while, still staring at Alan's crotch, though he didn't seem to really be seeing it any more. Finally, he shook his head and stood to face the winged fox, his hands fidgeting beside his hips. "It would be too weird, after all we've been through, and seen each other do," he said, and turned and knelt again, raising his bottom with his forearms braced on the bath tub's rim. "Better to let a stranger do it, at least for now. Everyone else needs more time to recover."

Alan took a deep, steadying breath. Now that Aubur was presenting himself again, the fox couldn't bring himself to offer any more alternatives. He closed the short distance between them and knelt behind the other male, brushing the outside of his furless thigh with his finger pads. Even that relatively safe contact made the rabbit's entire body tense up, but Aubur just stared at the wall in front of him, waiting for whatever Alan intended to do.

For now, all Alan wanted to do was take in the beautiful sight in front of him. After so many years without seeing any sentient creature without fur, scales, or feathers, the rabbit's shaved rump seemed bizarre, alien. Knowing how it had gotten that way made him growl quietly, but even though he would have preferred a lush pelt to dig his fingers into, he had to admit that the way the naked skin outlined every curving muscle beneath it was very arousing. It glistened, still slightly wet from Aubur's shower.

Then there was the brown furred, triangular tail, the fuzzy scrotum, and the expanse of skin between them, barely seen within the crevice between the rabbit's tensed buttocks. Slowly and gently, Alan placed his paws on the curve of those cheeks, thumbs dipping between them, and parted them enough to give him a clear view of Aubur's anus. Nestled in the lowest fur of his tail, it looked almost like an eye, framed as it was by twin arches of decorative fur that traced the innermost curves of his rump and linked his tail to the back of his ball sack. Yet if it resembled an eye, the eye appeared wide with surprise, as stretched as it had become. Clearly abused, little lines of paler skin were intermixed with the tail hole's natural wrinkles, scar tissue from Aubur's countless rapes.

Alan's jaw clenched in anger, and when he noticed how the rabbit's body was trembling under his paws, he let the other male's buttocks close against each other again, sliding his hands down the smooth, wet skin until they rested again on Aubur's outer thighs. "If I do anything you don't enjoy, anything at all, tell me, and I'll stop," he said, lowering his muzzle until he was breathing on the back of the rabbit's testicles.

"O . . . okay. . . ." Aubur's trembling never slackened. He was clearly expecting the worst.

Alan watched the fur on the other male's testicles stir slightly under the breeze of his breaths, then brought his muzzle forward until his black nose nestled between the lowest curves of Aubur's bottom, opening his jaws and giving the ball sack a long, slow lick, matting down the fur along the back of the rabbit's balls in a wide, wet stripe. He licked them again, and when he inhaled, he breathed in pure rabbit musk with his nose embedded in the lower corner of that decorative eye. It was a clean smell, after Aubur's shower, but powerful all the same.

The rabbit moaned when Alan's slow tongue bath moved around the sides of his sack, and every so often the fox would pull a testicle into his mouth, combing the brown fur with his teeth before beginning another slow lick. The rabbit was a small male, given his species, but even after three ejaculations, Alan could feel a heavy fullness in the other's balls. Aubur's sex drive really was stronger than normal.

Parting the rabbit's knees with his hands, Alan turned where he knelt and lay down between the other male's legs, draping his wings over Aubur's calves and positioning his face under the shaved belly. Holding the other's hips and pulling himself up, he kissed the tip of the rabbit's member, then letting his lips part, he took its tapered head into his mouth and gently bathed it with his tongue. Looking up at Aubur's moan, he saw the other male looking right back at him, the rabbit's head tucked between his braced arms. Aubur panted open mouthed, his expression bewildered, but was evidently too overcome by pleasure to express himself beyond his rapid pants, groans, and gasps.

Alan took that to mean he was doing a good job.

Breathing through his nose, the fox lowered his head further, slowly encasing the rabbit's erection until its tip hit the back of his palate. His muzzle was long enough that it held more than two thirds of the penis, but he couldn't hope to deep throat it at the angle he was working with, head turned downward so that Aubur's member could keep pointing up his belly. Alan decided to work with the length he was able to take rather than tug the rabbit's penis downward to line it up with his throat. Careful to keep his sharp teeth away from the other's sensitive flesh, he made a bed out of his long tongue, curling it around the underside of the shaft. When he pulled his head back, lips making a powerful suction as they glided back toward the tip, he was rewarded with a bead of bittersweet pre falling on his tongue, which he swallowed eagerly. Once his lips framed the head's rim again, he lapped once more at what was left inside his muzzle, swirling his tongue around the rabbit's urethra before dipping his muzzle again.

The fox's hands weren't idle while he worked. While one arm wrapped around the small of Aubur's back, the other hand traced its way down his hip and cupped his genitals, squeezing in a slow, gentle rhythm to match the motions of Alan's mouth. He might have teased beneath any other male's tale during such an intimate embrace, but decided against it now, not wanting to bring Aubur any unpleasant memories while he was obviously enjoying himself so much.

It didn't take long for Alan to bring the rabbit to his peak. Aubur's hips began twitching underneath the fox's forearm, making tiny thrusts into Alan's muzzle, and when he looked up at the rabbit's overwhelmed face, he knew what was coming. He pulled back until he was suckling on only the first inch or two of the other male's erection and lifted his paw until the rabbit's testicles were plastered between his groin and Alan's padded palm. When they quaked against his hand, a strong blast of rabbit sperm hit the roof of his mouth before he lowered his head onto the floor and let the rest of Aubur's orgasm shoot against his neck and the underside of his chin as he locked eyes with the other male. Alan let go of the other male's hips so that he could pump the pulsing erection through its climax, massaging the rabbit's flexing testes with his other hand until they lay limp against his palm.

Aubur collapsed on top of the fox, then, his penis drizzling the last dregs of his orgasm into Alan's white chest fur. Alan just hugged the small of the rabbit's back against the side of his face, while Aubur slumped against the tub's rim, not caring about the mess. They were in the wash room, after all.

"No one's ever . . . done anything like that for me," the rabbit panted.

"Did you enjoy it?" Alan asked, rubbing the side of his muzzle affectionately against the rabbit's smooth stomach.

"How could I not?" Aubur slid down the fox's body until he could look Alan in the eye, his balls draping over the length of the vulpine penis peeking from Alan's sheath. At the soft contact, the fox's member twitched, extending to its full length against the underside of Aubur's still-firm shaft. "I was offering myself to you," the rabbit said, his expression bewildered. "You could have taken me any way you pleased. Why didn't you?"

Alan just chuckled. "I did." Then he leaned up and locked muzzles with the rabbit, pulling the smaller male down into the kiss. Aubur resisted at first, startled, but after a heartbeat or two he pressed his muzzle down against Alan's and joined the kiss enthusiastically, his tongue flicking between the fox's sharp teeth to taste the lingering flavor of his semen in Alan's mouth. The kiss continued until Alan's head spun, and by the end of it, the rabbit was grinding his erection into the fox's belly fur, his genitals rubbing provocatively up and down Alan's solid length.

"Still?" the fox asked after pulling away from Aubur's lips.

The rabbit sighed and rested the side of his face against Alan's chest, unmindful of the sticky sperm his cheek landed in. "I'm hopeless, aren't I?"

Alan pushed at the other's shoulders until Aubur raised back onto all fours, then slid out from under him. "Maybe not." Crawling next to the rabbit, Alan knelt with his forearms against the side of the bath tub, mimicking the position Aubur had been in before his orgasm. Locking eyes with the stunned rabbit pointedly, Alan lifted his luxurious tail and wiggled his bottom teasingly. "One last try?"

Aubur stood up in a rush and backed away from the prone fox, holding his hands out in front of him as though to ward off an attack. "No. No way. I can't take you like that. How would I be any different from the predators at the arena?"

"When you offered yourself to me. . . ." Alan began, but the rabbit cut him off.

"You didn't take up the offer."

The fox shook his head. "When you offered yourself to me," he repeated, "you did so because you thought it was what I wanted, but I'm offering myself without much concern for your desire." Keeping the rabbit's eyes locked to his own, he didn't blink. "This is what I want."

Alan was always careful not to blink when he lied. The truth of the matter was, the rabbit had excited him to the point where all he really wanted to do was bend the other male over the tub and plunder his rump with abandon. But he needed to gain the refugees' trust, and he could think of few better ways to do so than the one he'd stumbled upon. Besides, accepting another male in this way was hardly something he would flinch away from.

"Are you serious?" Aubur asked, unconvinced.

"Yes. Of course, don't feel like you have to if you don't want to," Alan was quick to add.

Gulping audibly, Aubur hesitantly circled around to look at Alan from behind. The fox bent his knees slightly more, tucking his legs together to pinch his erection between them and frame his plump sack behind his thighs, spreading his wings wide to either side and keeping his bushy tail lifted high in the air. For him, at least, this was one of the most alluring positions for another male to put himself in.

It worked. Alan heard three unsteady footsteps approach behind him before he felt the rabbit's paw land hesitantly on the curve of his furry rump. Arching his back to lift his bottom higher, the fox relaxed his haunches when Aubur's hand squeezed, his firm gluteus muscles melting under the other male's fingers. When a second hand gave his other cheek the same treatment, fingers kneading at his rump like a large ball of dough, he lifted his tail even higher, prominently displaying the small disk of skin beneath its base each time the rabbit's thumbs tugged his buttocks apart.

Letting his head lower until his nose almost dipped into the bath water, Alan made himself take deep, steady breaths that greatly contrasted with Aubur's ragged, nervous pants. The rabbit shuffled forward, his bare knees rubbing against the outer edges of Alan's calves until the fox felt the other male's penis nestling up into the cleft of his furry cheeks. Aubur leaned forward then, and caught Alan by surprise when he reached around to hold the fox's neck. Not expecting the other male to make such a dominant gesture, he tensed briefly, but after swirling around the sperm-matted fur covering the fox's throat, the paw withdrew, and he relaxed again, feeling the knuckles of that hand rub against his rear while Aubur used the semen he'd collected to lube his shaft. Despite himself, Alan gasped when the rabbit's finger pads rubbed that warm liquid around his anus, then moaned when their pressure increased and a digit wormed its way past his sphincter up to its first knuckle, testing his tightness.

"Are you sure about this?" Aubur asked, thrusting his finger tentatively in and out of the fox's tail hole three times before withdrawing, gripping the base of Alan's tail and lining himself up.

"Oh, ye. . . ." Alan's confirmation was cut off by another groan when the rabbit immediately pushed forward, his penis's tip parting the fox's sphincter and burrowing through his rectum in short, gentle jabs. Alan's wings fluttered slightly as his back arched even farther, bearing down on the rabbit's intrusion while the fox clenched his teeth. Aubur wasn't a huge male, and was well lubed besides, but it had been so long since Alan had taken any other male up his rear passage that he might as well have been a virgin.

Alan shuddered at the familiar, uncomfortable fullness when the rabbit's genitals finally pressed against his butt, their lower curves brushing against the back of his own scrotum, then groaned yet again when Aubur pulled swiftly out and stuffed him again. The rabbit planted his hands on the small of Alan's back, leaning forward and resting his weight on the fox while he began a rapid humping rhythm, his thumbs crossing over the top of the base of Alan's tail. That uncomfortable fullness blurred into an uncomfortable pleasure as the rabbit's erection nudged the fox's prostate over and over again. Alan tried to push back against each of the other male's thrusts, but Aubur was setting such a quick pace, he couldn't hope to match the rabbit's movements, so he just knelt and let the other male hump him wildly. Alan panted open-mouthed, and a thick mist began rising from his body as the harsh romp's pleasure overrode his self control, shrouding the two mating males in a dense, white fog.

As the mist wrapped around the rabbit on top of him, new sensations mingled with the pleasure below Alan's waist. It always happened when his mist touched another living being; their emotions and desires flooded his own until, if he wasn't careful, he could no longer tell who was feeling what. Tears came to Alan's eyes at what he felt from the rabbit. There was the euphoria of their mating on Aubur's surface, but it was a thin shield for layers of insecurity, doubt, self contempt, and a core of guilt so deep that its source had to have been something beyond his dominance over the winged fox beneath him. A tear streamed down Alan's muzzle and splashed into the bath water below. He couldn't understand how one creature could be in such emotional turmoil without weeping in their every waking moment, but these were the sensations his mist brought to him from far too many people in recent years. He'd nearly collapsed when he'd used the mist to transport the refugees to his tower.

Aubur lunged fully through the fox's tail hole, pressing his testicles against the backs of Alan's, and slid his hands down the fox's back to fondle his curved rump. Alan squeezed his penis between his clenched thighs, pushing back against the rabbit and waiting for an orgasm that never came. Evidently Aubur was merely catching his breath. After letting his length pulse inside the fox for several moments, he pulled back out, thrust, and slowly worked his way back to the same frantic pace he'd been humping at before, and then some. Alan clenched his teeth, panting through his nose while the rabbit squeezed and pierced his bottom.

Alan was getting pushed ever closer to his own climax, his mist rapidly spreading through the wash room until it looked like a steaming sauna. When the mist reached the room's doorway and poured into the hall beyond, the fox tensed suddenly, a rush of mingled surprise, bitter amusement, contempt, and envy filling him. Someone was watching their pairing.

Aubur was too lost in his motions, though, to convince him to stop. When the fox tensed and clamped down around him, he cried out quietly and gripped Alan's hips, ramming himself in and out of the winged fox until streams of semen began preceding each lunge. Alan winced at the abuse, their audience all but forgotten, as the liquid filling his rectum and making the rabbit slide wetly in and out of him nearly brought him to his own climax. Just before he would have fallen over that precipice, though, Aubur pulled out, one last weak spurt splashing against the fox's rump and mingling with the small stream drizzling from his collapsing tail hole.

From the hallway behind them, someone whooped in approval, and the shaved chipmunk finally stepped into the washroom and made himself known. "That's how it's done, Aubur. Way to show the predator who's boss."

The rabbit froze with his hands still clenching Alan's hips, his ears drooping along his back. "How . . . how long have you been. . . ." he stuttered, and dropped the fox's hips to back away from him, never turning to face the chipmunk.

"Oh, more than long enough. That was great! We should have been turning the tables on the hunters a long time ago."

"I'm no hunter," Alan growled, his voice deep with thwarted lust. He didn't hide his throbbing erection from either of the other males when he got to his feet and turned toward the chipmunk. "You, however, are beginning to sound a great deal like one, Griss."

"Oh, stow it," the chipmunk sneered. A day ago, he wouldn't have had the courage to challenge a carnivore, but evidently seeing Alan so thoroughly buggered had emboldened him. "You've been playing nice since there are so many more of us than you, but the second you can get someone smaller than you alone, you'll rape them like they mean nothing to you. Bet you didn't expect Aubur here to get the upper hand on you, did you?"

Alan almost snapped at the little male, but that was the assumption Aubur had made, too, when he'd first joined the rabbit in the washroom. He made himself withdraw his mist back into himself; the chipmunk's bitterness was making him queasy, though he didn't ignore the fact that the emotion laced through all of Griss's feelings at that moment was jealousy. For whom, Alan or Aubur, the fox couldn't be certain.

Alan took a calming breath, trying to will his arousal to recede, but his penis kept pointing at the ceiling in stubborn salute. "Everything you saw I consented to," he growled. "You can keep comparing me to the predators if you want to, but don't drop Aubur in that category, too."

"Yeah, sure. You just don't want your ego deflated, but just wait until I tell everyone."

"No!" Aubur shouted, a slight squeak in his voice. "Don't tell anyone what you saw here, Griss. Please. They'll think . . . they'll think that I. . . ."

"They'll think that you gave that toothy carpet exactly what he deserves, is what they'll think," the chipmunk said, grinning.

The rabbit frowned, anger overriding his startled embarrassment. "Stop it. The Seer's done nothing but help us since the arena. . . ."

"And what did he do for us before the arena? How long did he let those twisted games go on before he stepped in? You've seen what he can do." He gestured at the mist still swirling around Alan's paws. "He could have brought an end to it any time he wanted to, but never did until two nights ago. He was only there for Ileni, anyway, not to help any of us."

Alan glared at the chipmunk, but didn't say anything. The arena's victims had weighed on his conscience too long for him to offer any defense against this latest accusation, even though he knew full well how helpless he was against the number of predators inhabiting Chicago. His mist couldn't stop bullets.

"Have you come for a shower, Griss, or is there something you wanted from one of us?" Alan asked, trying to change the subject to something other than hunters or sex.

"Oh, I just wanted to let Aubur here know that a buck spotted some predators gathering in the streets around this tower. I'm going up to a ledge with some of the others to pee on their heads, and wanted to know if Aubur would like to join us."

Alan let out a tense, exasperated sigh. "Don't do anything of the sort. Someone could get shot." Taking a deep breath, he let the mist pooling at his feet rise up and veil him in a wall of fog. "Tell everyone to stay away from the walls. I'll deal with them." Without another word, the Seer focused on the mist wrapped around him, painting a mental picture of the tallest column still standing in his dilapidated tower. When he let the fog thin and fade, he was standing perched on top of that metal finger as though he'd been there all along, leaving the other two males alone in the washroom far below.

Looking down at the ravaged streets around the tower, he saw that the chipmunk had been telling the truth. Small groups of bold carnivores had gathered like clusters of ants on each side of the tower, studying the vine-devoured lower walls for an entrance. Most of them carried either a pistol or a rifle.

Alan glared down at them. Every now and again, Chicago's hunters would gather at his tower like this, under the impression that they had owned every corner of the city, and that he was some mysterious, supernatural squatter on their territory, and he would have to remind them who had been living in the city longer. He expected, though, that these had gathered for a different reason. There had been plenty of survivors at the arena's battle, and without a doubt, many of them had noticed the mist that had permeated the arena just as their prey began to fight back. The predators at his tower, then, had heard the others' reports, and knew that Alan had played a part in what they undoubtedly saw as a shameful defeat.

Looking down at the city block, the winged fox let his mist flow down the sides of his tower until the entire building was shrouded in an opaque white fog, then further, flooding the streets around the tower with the mist and making it rise above the heads of his overconfident visitors. Once he was certain they could see nothing beyond the noses on their faces, he brought his personal walls of mist up around him again and visualized one corner of the skyscraper. The thick mist around him faded to reveal yet more mist permeating the street on which he now stood, but where his fog blinded anyone else unfortunate enough to be caught in its tendrils, his eyes could pierce it easily.

In front of him, squinting in a direction slightly to the fox's left, was a tall mountain lion with a scar making a white streak of fur down his chest, holding a small pistol half raised in his right hand. Alan circled around the bigger male silently, approached from behind, and kicked at the back of the other's knee, dead-legging him and snatching the pistol out of his hand before the feline knew he was being assaulted. By the time the mountain lion spun and swung a fist at the spot the fox had been standing, Alan was quickly making his way toward the next nearest predator, which he disarmed just as easily.

He made his way from one armed hunter to another, and the methodical work helped his firm arousal to recede. It shot back to attention, though, when he nearly stumbled over a female lynx who was bent over and searching the ruptured pavement with her hands, having dropped a sawed off shot gun that lay on the ground a few feet to her right. The female's rump was raised straight toward Alan, and, unaware that anyone could see her in the thick fog, she let her short bob tail twitch back and forth without making any effort to cover herself.

Never before had Alan come so close to raping someone before, with her pink little tail hole swaying back and forth in front of him above such nicely curved outer labia. Certainly, the emotions his mist was sending him from the lynx only fueled his arousal, embarrassment tinged with an uneasy fear, with a spike of self recrimination, though for what, Alan couldn't say.

Swallowing, then taking a deep breath, the winged fox stepped beside the female and kicked her shotgun away from her, its sound muffled by the thick fog, and strode hastily toward the last predator as she turned toward the dim thud of her weapon scooting across the ground. Erection bobbing in front of him, Alan simply wrenched a rifle from the female black bear's grasp without making any attempt to hide himself, knowing he was a mere shadowy blur to the bear. She lunged at him when he whisked the gun out of her hands, but he spun to the side and let her tumble to the ground.

Thickening the mist around all the predators, he focused, painting the landscape of another part of the city, and in the next heartbeat, they were there. He held his breath while drawing his mist around himself again, never breathing until he had transported himself back to the streets around his tower, abandoned now except for the scattering of guns lying on the ground here and there. He'd sent the predators to the dump where one quadrant of Chicago's inhabitants carried their waste and refuse, and even after being there for a mere second or two, he could smell the cloying reek of the place clinging to his fur.

Brushing himself off, he stifled a moan when his paws brushed his erection, and set about collecting the discarded weapons. The carnivores had just helped him arm his refugees.

As he bent to pick up the last gun, the same sawed off shotgun that the pretty lynx had dropped, he felt warm rain patter against his head and trickle down to his shoulders. When he looked up, though, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Then more drops fell on his lips, and he spat them on the ground as soon as he tasted the acrid urine. Apparently some of his guests had ignored his orders to stay away from the walls. They must have been hiding behind some of the building's outer pillars, because he couldn't see who it was that was peeing on him, but he knew they could see him clearly. Whoever it was wasn't under the impression that they were urinating on the hunters, as Griss had said they'd intended.

Grimacing in disgust, the fox gathered his mist about himself and stepped through it back into the tower's wash room, leaving the pests to pee onto Chicago's streets as they pleased. Growling under his breath, he stepped into the tub that Aubur had been using and filled the shower bag with semi-clean water before hanging it above his head.

No one said this was going to be easy.