FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The brandy burned.

I sneered as I gulped it down and slammed my glass on the bar.

I clutched the thick rocks glass in a meaty paw, teeth bared as I begged it to shatter under the pressure.

But it resisted.

I didn't have the heart to really crush it.

I knew it would hurt, and as ever I was the coward.

The thought only spurred on my foul mood.

I glanced around, hopeful someone else had noticed.

But the Serrated Blade Tavern was full to the brim. It was a dinky bar in the busy Canton Factorium, the production district of the Black Citadel.

Here worksman drank to kill the night after a busy day's work while I rotted in their midst.

Gladium.

I was surrounded by gladium.

I was gladium.

And how I resented it.

Alone, no place in a warband.

Yet how I craved it.

For no warband deserved me, save the one I buried in Maguuma under piles of shrapnel and rubble of The Pact's once great fleet.

I drank to remember them.

I drank to forget them.

I drank because it made me foul.

I drank because it made me stupid.

And when stupid, I could pretend I was happy for a time.

I snarled and tapped my glass twice on the counter in front of me.

The barkeep hardly glanced my way as she poured me another round of brandy with a heavy hand.

She was good to me.

I smirked.

Reminded me of one of the brightest engineers I ever knew.

I frowned.

The distractions never lasted long enough.

I'd been drinking since early afternoon.

It was now dark and I was sloshed.

But I kept throwing back fiery shots while I mused over the prospect of getting into a fight.

There was a group nearby passionately discussing the merits and politics of the Flame Legion. The pros and cons. With a few of them a little too smitten with the pros. Real juvenile, missing the point type shit.

And the thought of sticking my snout where it didn't belong was enticing.

Talk like that almost always ended in scars and broken bones and I was eager to say my peace no matter the reaction.

But before I could make myself their problem, a charr slipped into the empty seat beside me.

Young, a little lanky but well-groomed. His soft coat of charcoal fur looked recently clipped and he smelled faintly of burning pine.

His nose twitched as he sniffed the air around me, the corner of his lip raised. There was eagerness that lit in his eyes as he sized me up.

I was at least twice his age. Heavy-set. My roan coat was shaggy and smelled of three-day old sweat and booze.

I reckon I could've snapped him like a twig.

And from the way he was looking at me, there was every chance that was what he wanted.

"Odd night to drink alone," he started. He sounded pleasant. Frustratingly pleasant.

I grunted and sipped my drink.

I had him pegged already.

Likely part of some rookie warband, stationed in Diessa to guard the pass to the Shiverpeaks.

Probably passing through for the night, or running a message or gathering supplies.

Him being here alone almost certainly meant his warband wasn't in town.

I flicked my eyes to him, hoping for a reason to care.

None.

He looked plain, another blade for the Legions. Likely too confident in himself.

"What's troubling you?" He asked.

Far too pleasant.

Must be fresh from the fahrar.

"You." I snorted.

He chuckled and clinked his glass against mine. "Company not your thing?"

I snorted again, nostrils flared.

"I'll take it." He leant forward on his stool, plainly not taking my disinterest to heart.

He knew what he wanted.

I sighed inwardly.

Perhaps I wanted that too.

At the very least, it wouldn't end with me in an infirmary. I could stomach that.

"What's your name?" He raised a brow.

"Otharus."

"Mmm, good, strong name. I'm-"

"Didn't ask." I hated the small talk. I knew what he was after, all he needed was proof I reciprocated, so I'd give it to him.

I stood up and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. "We're going."

A huge smile cracked on his face.

He really wanted me.

"Sure. I have a room."

He spoke like it was a necessity.

Like I wasn't above rutting him in the alley behind the bar.

Like I was considering doing regardless.

He was a pushover.

I could get anything I wanted out of him, but I wanted nothing but a distraction.

So he could lead me to privacy, and I'd welcome it for the few extra moments it burned out of this dreary night.

Anything to help the time pass faster.

And it meant a night indoors on a mattress.

Something I knew I wanted, and I knew was a good thing.

I just didn't care.

He was rabbiting on as he led me from the bar.

I grunted an acknowledgement when prompted, but none of it sank in.

He was meaningless.

I was meaningless.

But it stole time from the long, ceaseless fuse that was my life.

Anything to get me closer to where I belonged.

If only I wasn't so much of a coward; I could join my warband faster.

I rankled my nose.

I hated thoughts like that.

Hated them. Cursed them.

Feared them.

I growled under my breath.

The younger charr froze. "You okay?"

I blinked.

I'd forgotten he was here.

"Just hurry up."

He peered at me a moment, then dipped forward and licked my lips.

"I'll make you feel good," he said.

The words hardly reached me.

I was aroused, sure.

But I'd zoned out again.

He glanced around, we were alone on a side street.

He groped me.

He probably thought it was cute.

I was obscene.

I dropped a hand to my waist and tugged my pants down enough for my thick cock to poke straight out.

For my heavy nuts to hang in the cool night breeze.

He gasped.

"Fuck." He spun around on his feet, gazing in every direction to make sure nobody else could see. He squeezed the base of my cock.

I crooned my neck and exhaled.

But he yanked up my pants.

"Almost there." He licked his lips nervously.

I rolled my eyes. "If I pinned you here and took you, would you fight it or welcome it?"

He coughed. "Not spending a night in a cell for your impatience."

I laughed.

It was funny, his fear.

Part of me wanted that to happen, so I could watch him another day.

Watch him fret and fume in a cell.

It'd be amusing, for a time at least.

But even if we fucked out in the open, there was hardly a chance we got caught. Not here.

Regardless, I wouldn't force myself on him.

Wouldn't dare.

He led me down another street and let us into a small building.

His apartment was simple and lacked the personality of a permanent abode.

I kicked my pants off.

He turned and stared.

His mouth opened as he eyed all nine inches of my arousal.

I scratched my ass. "Off you go then."

He blinked. "Hm?"

"Do whatever." I shrugged off my shirt.

He quivered a moment, his gaze shifted across my naked body.

He stepped closer, a steady hand on my chest. He traced my pectoral and slid his fingers down to my belly. His other hand cupped my balls.

I laced my fingers behind my head.

"You're so hot." He whined softly as he nudged his muzzle into my armpit.

He was not surprising.

Not subtle.

Just desperate.

He thrust his hips against my side as he smelled me.

"Freak." I snorted and caged him under my arm.

His cock throbbed in his pants.

I bore my weight down on him, squeezing him into my flank.

He purred as he rubbed his face in my stink.

His chest heaved until he'd had his fill. He tensed back to withdraw but I only caged him tighter to my side.

He thrust his hips against me, whimpering as he sucked in breath 'til he knew he'd had enough.

His claws pricked my arm as he pulled away.

I let him stumbled back.

His face sweaty and wild.

He blinked.

A smile curved on his lips.

His pants tented.

I took a step forward and slammed a meaty paw into his sternum.

He toppled onto his bed and landed with a thud that knocked the wind from him.

I pounced.

My cock struck his muzzle with a wet thwap.

I pressed my thighs against his head and yanked him up by his horns, which grew like perfect handles from his head.

He was a whore.

He knew he was a whore.

He was born a whore no matter what he thought himself now.

He opened his mouth and freed a haggard moan as I pressed my cock between his lips.

My balls dragged up his neck.

His hands grabbed at my ass.

If he weren't so inviting I'd be softer.

But he was inviting.

He wanted this treatment.

I could do so much worse.

I tugged at his horns and forced him down on my thick cock.

He gagged as it hit the back of his throat.

He spluttered as I pushed in further.

I snorted.

This didn't even feel good.

But the pained look on his face was stained with hunger as his hands pushed me harder into him.

I lodged so much of my cock into his throat he seized and jerked away.

He coughed.

A strand of spit hung from the tip of my dick.

I rubbed it into the top of his snout.

Still he stared at me with wanting eyes.

This was the treatment he craved.

I slapped him with my cock.

He flinched as I struck him again.

I grabbed him by the throat and tugged him forward.

He swallowed half of my cock.

I tightened my hold on his neck.

He suckled at me, straining as he rasped air around me.

It was fun to watch the desire drain from his features.

To see a bit of fight on his face.

The reluctance with which he tried to pull back escalated to intent and bordered on desperation before I let him go.

He heaved in a long breath.

Then lapped the lip of my cock.

He dipped forward, eager for more.

I snarled.

He would get what I give him.

I raised a leg and bashed my knee across his face as I turned.

I sat on him, and moaned as his snout pressed into my crack.

He lapped at my hole. His nose nestled into the groove under my tail.

Though he strained to breathe with my weight on him, he snorted as he pressed his tongue into my ass.

Warmth rose through the hold alcohol had on my body.

I leant forward and yanked his pants down.

His cock sprung out, slick with pre.

Barely six inches with little girth.

His balls sat limply under. Drained. He was a whore and still he craved more.

It angered me.

I grabbed the shaft of his cock and squeezed until he convulsed under me.

His tongue lashed my hole through grunts and gasps.

I didn't let go.

I crushed his cock in my paw until he strained at my weight and yowled.

I tensed my hand.

Just for a moment.

A shout left his throat.

I rose off of him.

I gave him a moment's respite as he gathered his breath.

"So rough," he gasped.

It was a nothing statement.

No feedback, just acknowledgement.

It meant I could push him harder.

I put a foot on his chest.

I ground my pad into his shirt.

My claws tested the fabric.

I clenched my toes and jerked back, tearing through the garment as I kicked it off of him.

His charcoal fur gave way to a gentle grey around his belly and crotch.

He had a knotted scar on his abdomen.

Devourer wound.

The kind you were lucky to survive.

I peered down at him.

Most charr hardened up from their near death experiences.

But this one had no spine.

I growled under my breath.

He wasn't a weapon.

He was lower than gladia.

Lower than me.

I caught his eye.

His stare was full of adoration and I wanted nothing more than to crush it.

He raised a hand to my ass and poked at my hole.

His claw circled the sensitive flesh.

It stole a gasp from me.

I slapped his hand away and ground my foot into his chest.

Didn't want his pleasure.

Burn me, I could make him bleed.

I could eviscerate him the same way I tore his shirt.

But he submitted under the weight of my body.

His cock throbbed as it leaked more precum.

I glowered.

The alcohol in my blood made me feel dangerous.

I kicked him and let my foot linger in place as I rolled him over.

He grunted as he crawled onto his knees.

His tail swished to the side as he stretched to show off his pink hole.

I brought a paw down on his ass so hard my claws pricked his flesh.

He moaned.

I grabbed the base of his tail and jerked it upwards, hard enough to pull his knees from the mattress.

He snarled.

I spat in his crack and stabbed a finger into his hole.

There was little resistance.

I think I could've killed him.

He was no charr to me.

No respect for himself. For his body.

He submitted to me so freely.

So hungrily.

Like a human.

His warband would be ashamed.

Burn them all if the thought of disowning him hadn't crossed their minds.

These thoughts formed a vicious shell.

It was either my cock or a blade I'd leave impaled into him and neither felt more enticing than the other.

Were I not naked and unarmed, I know what I would've done.

I forced my finger down to the knuckle.

A shiver ran down his back as he exhaled.

I crammed a second finger into his hole.

He was so warm and wanting.

It made me impatient.

He moaned out loud and all I could think of was pounding him into silence.

I shoved hard against his hips and he lurched forward, curled upside down on his shoulders. I wrapped an arm around his torso and brandished my thick cock in his face.

He opened his mouth.

I thrust into his muzzle.

He hacked a cough which cracked into a groan as I spread his asshole with my fingers.

This slut wasn't ready.

I teased a third finger.

His entire body shuddered.

His tongue lapped meekly at my cock.

Pleasure rose within me and capsized my anger.

I had him. He was mine to enjoy.

So I should enjoy him.

He gasped as I pulled my fingers back.

I could feel his anxiety rising as I drew in a steady breath.

He couldn't see what I was about to do.

He tensed.

I dragged my broad tongue from the back of his balls right up to the base of his tail.

He moaned so pleasantly.

The tension dripped from his frame.

I let myself moan alongside him.

He moved his head as he blew me.

Moments like this it felt like there was no weight on my soul.

I circled his hole with my tongue, delighting in every slight motion he made in response.

I pressed my tongue into him and gently thrust my hips. The warmth of his muzzle tingled right up to my belly.

I nosed at his taint as I tasted his pre.

It was sweet.

It coated my tongue as I lapped back towards his hole.

He shuddered and groaned.

I poked back into him, a smile tugged at my jowls.

But he spoke.

"Fuck me," he gasped, muffled by my cock. His voice cracked.

I paused midstroke. I clutched his ass cheeks so hard my claws pressed against his flesh.

Anger coiled up within me again.

This fucking whore had ruined it.

He'd exposed himself again.

This freak.

I spread his cheeks.

He was taking me now.

Ready or not, I no longer cared.

I picked him off the mattress and pressed my cock into his throat until he gagged.

He wrenched his head back and rushed in a quick breath before I dropped him straight on his neck.

Feline reflexes kicked in as he scrambled to land on his feet.

He hit the mattress belly-first with a grunt. He raised his ass.

I pounced on top of him.

The weighty head of my cock braced against his hole.

He wanted this.

I speared into him.

He was loose, but clearly trained on charr his size.

He clutched the sheets in desperate bundles, his head bowed into the pillows as he snarled against the feeling of me widening his guts.

His voice rose with every inch I forced into him.

He cursed as I bottomed out.

I exhaled and gathered my anger. It steeled me against the pleasure of his body.

I started withdrawing.

Like I was pulling a blade from his chest he shouted.

It was encouraging.

I thrust forward, his harsh grunts were the only feedback I needed.

My balls smacked the back of his as I slammed the last inch into him.

How little he was.

I could smack him around and never get tired.

I craned my neck as I pulled back again.

Only this time he moaned.

Some of the tension within him gave way.

I pressed into him easier as he relaxed.

It only pissed me off.

I gyrated my hips, gaining speed as he widened.

I wanted him to curse and squirm but he only gasped and moaned.

I bore my weight down on him.

I wanted to crush him but he only curled, the sounds of his pleasure rose to my ears and stoked the anger.

I hooked an arm around his throat.

I flexed into a chokehold.

He wheezed but shuddered.

His hips jerked lazily on my shaft.

He liked this more.

Burn me.

I forced two thick fingers into his open mouth and crammed them into him as I thrust.

He convulsed under me.

His eyes fluttered as I pounded him harder and harder.

His hips squeezed back on me as tension rose through his entire body and broke with a wail.

His cock jerked and shot a splash of cum across the sheets.

My revulsion hit its peak, then shattered.

And for the briefest moment I came alive.

He was spent.

He'd finished from getting fucked.

And that padded my ego.

Made me feel good. Actually good.

I wanted to draw this out.

Wanted to bask in this pleasure.

This fleeting moment where I could be grateful.

Where I could conceive something more.

Something hopeful.

That this guy had given his body to me and through mutual desire arose carnal pleasure. Something I wanted again.

Something I could contend with.

I slammed my hips against his ass.

I ground my cock into him and groaned wildly to every thrust.

My balls ached for release as they slapped against his taint.

I dipped forward, body unable to hold upright as I humped at him in a drunken stupor.

Each motion cracked like lightning through my body.

Pleasure blinded the miasma of alcohol.

It blasted depressed thoughts from my mind and left me primal, charged and ready.

I snarled as I crushed him against the mattress.

I collapsed against his back and sunk teeth into the base of his neck.

My jaws locked around the tender flesh.

He wailed as he reached for my head.

He held his arms to my cheeks.

My cock twitched so hard he jolted.

My vision clouded as the orgasm crashed onto me.

I moaned out loud as I pumped him full of cum.

I gasped and thrust until I was empty.

Spurt after spurt of my seed filled his insides.

I rolled off of him, staring at the ceiling.

Panting.

Damp with sweat.

The taste of his blood on my fangs.

He lifted his head to look at me, a contented look in his eyes. He had a hand clutched to where I'd bitten him.

Though he didn't seem troubled by it.

And that made me certain he was used to it.

Disgusting.

The afterglow subsided rather fast.

I was drunk, dumb thoughts bounced around my skull like scattershot rounds.

And none of them were pleasant.

He crawled up to me, wordless as he collapsed.

I grasped him to try centre my thoughts.

He curled against me, at peace.

I stared at the snoring lump of contented charr in my arms and found only resentment I was too tired to action.

So I threw my head back and tried to sleep.

I woke in the middle of the night.

A vivid dream had thrown me from my rest.

A memory of falling.

Of blood and fire and screaming.

Of an emotionless jungle rising from the ground to shred and maim.

I clenched fists, a silent sob in my throat as I sucked in hefty breaths to try calm myself.

My fur was damp with sweat.

My belly ached.

I felt sick.

My heart thudded.

I was bleary-eyed and woozy.

My feet and fists felt like lead and a weight of dread sat cold on my throat.

It was hard to breathe.

I shook myself down, glancing at my surroundings.

I'd followed someone home.

I was in their room. Silver moonlight slipped through blinds on the opposite wall.

They lay on me.

They- he. He was snoring softly.

I blinked.

I didn't know his name.

Had I forgotten?

Had I ever known?

I scrunched my face and took deep breaths.

I was in the Black Citadel.

I was safe.

I wrapped my arms around the younger charr sharing the bed with me.

I held him tenderly, until my breath fell normal and my heart plodded at a resting pace.

I gave him a gentle squeeze, thankful for his presence.

He exhaled, his eyes fluttered open.

He looked at me, tired and confused for a long moment.

He was expecting something.

A reason why I'd roused him.

I wanted to tell him.

Night terror.

That I'd left my heart, mind and soul in the jungle.

That this dirty body shambling around under the false guise of sentience could only feel what I'd lost.

But then he'd be pleasant.

Try to coddle me.

Didn't want that.

Might've needed it, but didn't want it.

So I deferred to the same thing I always did when I needed a distraction.

I reached for tantalizing thoughts.

Enduring fantasies.

Things that always excited me.

I was getting hard.

He was easy.

My erection throbbed.

"Ride it." I spoke firmly.

He blinked and yawned.

For a moment I thought he might show some restraint, but he wasn't that interesting.

He arched his back as he crawled over me.

He spat into his paw and rubbed it up my cock.

I sighed.

He lined himself up and moaned as he wriggled down. His dick twitched as it grew to half-mast.

He felt good.

I yawned and stared at the ceiling.

It was hard to focus.

Brambles shredded my concentration.

He bounced on me, his voice cracking under the duress of pleasure.

I lay still, content to let him lead it.

He got wild.

I wasn't sure how long he'd been going at it when he shuddered and shot a load across my chest.

I was still staring at the ceiling, trying my best to hold onto this moment.

He looked exhausted.

His pace stumbled for a moment, but he recovered and kept bouncing in my lap, expecting something to happen.

And eventually, it stopped feeling good.

My own tiredness crept up on me.

I started to soften.

He flopped into the sheets beside me, his breathing ragged.

"Sorry," he managed between rushed breaths. Like that was his fault.

I yawned and rolled on my side. "For what?" I stared into his eyes.

He seemed embarrassed.

"You uh, didn't finish." He averted his gaze.

"Yeah." I used the edge of his sheet to wipe some of his spunk from my chest. "And?"

He went silent for a moment. "Dunno. Feels like I did something wrong."

I scoffed. "Try again in the morning then." I turned my back to him. "Tired."

I wanted him to keep talking.

His voice was soothing. It helped me focus.

He clicked his tongue like he wanted to say something, but let it lie.

Disappointment welled within me.

I should've said something.

Should've been kinder.

I felt grotesque.

Like I'd used him.

And I had.

I had used him.

The utility of the pleasure and distraction he brought me far outweighed anything else about him.

If not for that, I wouldn't be here.

It was harder to fall asleep this time.

Once he was snoring I cradled him and stroked fingers through his soft fur. That put me at ease and disarmed the bad thoughts until I could drift off.

Sunlight filtering through the rusty iron blinds woke me.

I blinked.

Warmth radiated through my chest.

His muzzle was between my legs.

He was so desperate to please me.

I yawned and stretched my toes.

He perked his head up, a wide smile on his face. "Morning."

He was being pleasant again.

I sighed and pulled him by the horns into my arms.

He held his naked body against mine and let out a contented purr.

"Last night was a lot of fun." He nibbled at one of my ears. I twitched my head to push him away with a horn.

He slipped a hand between us and fondled me.

I stared into his eyes, unimpressed.

"Can I?" he asked.

"Don't care."

He tilted his head, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't care."

He folded his brow. "Got a hangover?"

It felt exhausting to even answer.

Of course I did. And worse.

"I'll make you feel better." He tried to shimmy lower on my body.

I held him in place. My claws pressed against his flesh.

He froze. "Maybe not." He gave a nervous chuckle.

I was so, so sick of him.

He lay back down against me, his arms tangled around me. His tail swished lazily back and forth between my thighs.

"Can I get you anything?" He sweetened his voice.

I grunted.

"Water?" He smirked. "More booze?" He raised his brow.

I grunted again.

A frown flashed across his face, he lay his head down on my chest and went quiet.

I was thankful for that.

We lay there for a time.

It was warm. He was soft, and both of those things felt nice enough for me to stay here.

Better than being alone, at least.

Eventually he asked. "What do you do?"

"Fuck all."

"Ah. Uh, what can you do?"

I scrunched my face, hopeful I could say enough to shut him up longer. "I can make things."

"Like, an engineer?"

"Mhm."

"A good one?" There was so much hope in his voice. I hated it.

"I was part of The Pact's fleet."

I hoped that sent the message.

Needed it to.

If he had the brains to see it, that said it all.

"Damn," he said, missing the point entirely. "That's amazing."

I glared at him.

He didn't notice.

"Listen, my warband's in need of an engineer, so if..." he trailed off.

I started laughing.

Amusing.

Terribly, terribly amusing.

His warband? He was recruiting?

He was a centurion then?

This soft, desperate freak was a centurion?

Hard, heavy, unbridled laughter rumbled out of me.

"You want me to join your warband so I can fuck you every night."

"That's not-"

"Fuck off." I snorted, still laughing.

He glared at me. "I'm serious."

"So am I." I pushed him towards my crotch. "Blow me."

I wanted to piss him off.

But he was soft.

Malleable.

Way too suggestable.

Still desperate.

He grabbed my cock in one hand and slathered his broad tongue up my shaft.

He purred as he reached the tip. "You should consider it." He lapped at my balls. "And I'll do this whenever you need it."

He made his voice sickly sweet.

It curdled my desire.

I was bored of him.

The thought of answering to a charr like him was sickening.

My warband would've chewed him to pieces.

I grimaced.

I could chew him to pieces.

Right now.

I kicked and shoved him off my cock.

He misread it and curled on his belly, presenting me his ass. The fur of his cheeks all ruffled and messy from last night.

I snarled and lurched out of bed.

I felt ill. The world spun as blood rushed from my head and a whisker of nausea crept into my belly.

He glanced up at me, hurt in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

I didn't dignify it with an answer as I pulled my pants on.

The penny dropped.

Pleasantness fell from his expression.

"Don't you hate being gladia?" He snarled at me, all that hurt sharpened on his face. "Being so worthless? We'd-"

I growled.

He hissed. "That's the best deal you're ever going to get."

I had no desire to explain myself.

But he was patronising me if he thought this was what I needed.

So I brought my hand down on his face.

Open-clawed.

He snarled and recoiled.

I'd hardly struck him but blood was already welling in the three marks I'd gouged on his forehead.

He lunged at me, still weak.

Still malleable.

I grabbed him around the chest and heaved him high before slamming him onto the mattress.

The air went out of him.

He was lucky I hadn't thrown him on the floor.

I could've. Maybe even should've.

He hacked a rough breath.

"What's wrong with you?" There was so much bitterness in his voice, like a spurned lover. Like he knew me. Like he understood me. Like he thought that would hurt me, one last desperate claw at my heart.

I looked down on him, ready to be smug.

Ready to feel amused that this naked twig of a centurion would dare voice these things to me.

But fuck, did it make me feel like shit.

He'd gotten me through the night.

He was young, his life so painless and easy.

And I'd given him more trouble than he deserved.

Why should I care he was soft? Desperate even. He was just being nice.

Fuck.

I squinted, snatched my ratty shirt off of the floor and walked out.

The clanging of metalworkers echoed through the streets.

Something clicked behind me. He'd locked his door.

Fair.

I sighed and headed for home, Gladium Canton, where I had a shitty lean-to and a shitty bench where I'd wait out my day and watch the sun path the sky like the spark that burned through the endless fuse around my neck.

I was as content as I was capable of being.

I was a stripped bolt crunched in the gears of a faulty chopper, eager for the entire thing to crash and burn.

But I'd buried another day.