FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Just an idea that's been knocking around in my head, and I decided to write it for the christmas contest. Not sure how I feel about the finished product, but I love the shy/quiet girl character. Comments and advice always welcome. If this is well recieved, I may continue it, since I have more ideas.

Tristan Dumor shivered as he climbed the three flights of steps to his apartment, his hands shoved into his armpits to trap what little warmth was left in his body. He hated the cold weather. Clenching his teeth against the chill, he grimaced at a Christmas card that had been stuck into the crack of his door. He hated the holidays too. He crumpled the card in one paw while unlocking the door and then tossed it over the railing before hurrying inside.

Tristan was a gray wolf, a species which was actually designed for the cold weather, but had grown up in the tropics and gotten used to the warm weather before moving north two years ago when he graduated high school. It had seemed a good idea at the time; the summers were nice and he already had a job lined up at a publishing company, but his attitude had soured when the seasons changed. Well, soured more than it already was before.

The apartment was fairly empty, no pictures or paintings on the wall, no remarkable decorations at all really. The only furniture was a couch and one armchair facing a TV, with a coffee table between them. There was no dinner table, only a square card table inside the kitchen with two folding chairs. A cordless phone sat on the floor by the door, and the blinking light said that he had a message.

Tristan pulled off his gloves and dropped them on the floor as he bent down and hit the play button. The mechanical voice announced that he had a message from his mother. He hit the delete button without listening to it. Picking up the phone, he hit the speed dial on his way to the kitchen and when it started ringing, he pushed a button to send it straight to voicemail.

"Hey mom, sorry I missed your call," he said in a quiet voice, turning on the oven. "I'm fine though. Merry Christmas." Hanging up, he tossed the phone onto the floor without bothering to put it back on the charger and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the counter before he headed back outside.

Tristan leaned on the railing and watched the lights of cars zoom by in the rapidly growing darkness, breathing in and out steadily. His doctor told him he shouldn't smoke, but he didn't care. It helped him relax after a long day, and it wasn't like it mattered anyway. He took a long drag and blew the smoke out between his teeth. And it helped him stay warm in this god awful weather. It was supposed to snow tomorrow. That would make people happy. Snow on Christmas morning was such a cliché though.

The creak of hinges moving broke the silence, and he looked back for the disturbance. The door to the neighboring room was propped open and he could see a single brown eye peeking out. Tristan sighed and took the cigarette from his mouth, turning to lean his back against the railing. "Are you trying to hide, or what?" he asked.

The door opened further to reveal a thirteen year old black lop rabbit, his neighbor's daughter, Cassandra. She was wearing a white t-shirt that was too big for her and hung off one shoulder with a pair of red gym shorts. "I was wondering if you were in a bad mood. You're always surly around holidays," she murmured, hanging onto the door handle. She always spoke in a soft voice, almost mumbling. Sandra was tall for her age, and very slender, still a bit awkward after having gone through a growth spurt the previous year.

"Do you even know what surly means?" he asked between puffs of smoke.

"I read a lot," she mumbled defensively. "It builds vocabulary." Her long black hair, only a little darker than her fur, was pulled back into a ponytail and tied with a fake jeweled barrette, and she reached up as if to adjust it, then dropped her hand.

Tristan smiled a little and hid it behind his hand as he took another pull on his cigarette. "Where's your mom? She won't want you letting the heat out like that," he said instead.

"She's working a double shift," Sandra explained, leaning against the doorframe. "She won't be back until morning."

"They're making her work on Christmas eve?" Tristan asked with a frown. Sandra's dad had left several years ago, so her mom had to work long hours to support both of them, but that seemed a bit excessive.

"You were working on Christmas eve," she pointed out softly, looking at her feet and shuffling them awkwardly.

Tristan stared at her silently for several moments before dropping his cigarette on the floor and stomping it out. "Come on, I'll make you something to eat," he said, opening his door. Sandra smiled and her face visibly brightened. She shut her own door quickly and rushed past him into the apartment. He started to sigh again, and broke into a sudden coughing fit, having to hold onto the doorknob until it passed. When he finally straightened, Sandra was watching him worriedly, holding one of her floppy ears in both hands.

"Are you all right?" she asked nervously, shifting from one foot to the other uncertainly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Tristan answered quietly, closing the door. He dropped the lighter and empty box onto the kitchen counter and checked to see if the over had finished pre heating.

"You shouldn't smoke," Sandra said in her quiet murmur. "It's not good for you."

"I don't care," Tristan muttered almost under his breath. "You want that breaded chicken? You liked it last time, right?" It wasn't exactly a traditional Christmas dinner, but it would do. Sandra nodded silently, watching him prepare the food, before shuffling off into his room and reappearing moments later holding a book in both hands.

Sandra's mother worked late a lot, so sometimes Tristan would make dinner for her if they met outside. Other times, the two would get in a fight, shouting loud enough for him to hear it through the wall, and Sandra would knock on his door, usually crying, and he would let her stay until she calmed down. Other times she would just come over to borrow books. He had quite a few, as he had been a big reader until only recently, and they filled up more than one bookshelf.

Sandra wandered back into the kitchen and sat down at the table to read. She had picked up a collection of poems. "Wouldn't it be more comfortable to sit in the living room?" Tristan asked over his shoulder.

"I'm fine here," she replied, opening the book to a random page and beginning to read.

Tristan didn't respond to that, tossing two potatoes into the microwave before leaving the kitchen to sprawl onto the couch, one arm covering his eyes. He heard a shuffling noise and peeked out to find Sandra curled up in the armchair. "I thought you were fine in the kitchen?" he remarked, cocking one eyebrow.

Sandra shrugged, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear unconsciously. Her baggy shirt pooled around her waist and she tugged the loose collar back onto her shoulder, not seeming to notice when it slipped back down, baring even more of her black furred chest and arm. "This chair's comfortable." Tristan sighed, but just when he had settled back down, she spoke again. "Did you go to the doctor last week?"

Tristan dropped his arm to the side and sighed again. "No. No I didn't," he muttered.

"You were supposed to. Why didn't you go?" she asked, still reading her book.

Tristan bristled and sat up. "I didn't want to go, all right!? It's not like it...matters..." he trailed off as she finally looked up at him and turned away so he didn't have to meet her eyes. "It's none of your business anyway."

He hated those stupid doctors visits. He was supposed to go to them because he had lung cancer. It wasn't because of the smoking; he had only started when he moved. It had been caused by a combination of asbestos in the building that he grew up in and the fact that both his parents had smoked. They hadn't caught it until he was 17, and it had been advanced enough that the only possibility was surgery to cut it out. Still, they had told him his chances for living another five years weren't good, and that was before he began smoking. He was supposed to go for regular checkups, but didn't see the point. He was going to die anyways. All they would tell him is how soon.

Sandra set the poetry aside and walked over to his side. Cupping his cheek in one she turned his head to face her and kissed him tenderly on the lips. Tristan stiffened at first, but then relaxed into the kiss and took her by the arms, pulling her into his lap and deepening the embrace, his broad tongue slipping into her small mouth to taste her.

He wasn't sure how it had all started. She had come over after a fight with her mother several months ago and he had tried to comfort her. Before he knew what was happening, he had been kissing her, and no matter how much he had hated himself, he couldn't stop it from getting progressively worse. He was too far gone now to care. Too lost in this innocent girl that would care about someone like him to turn away.

Sandra slid her arms around his neck and broke the kiss to nuzzle his cheek, her soft ear rubbing along his muzzle. "Damn it," he sighed, snaking his arms around her to hold her against his chest. "Why do you keep coming back?"

Instead of answering, Sandra began spreading kisses along his neck while her small hands kneaded his shoulders. Tristan groaned, tilting his head back to enjoy the young rabbit's ministrations. She tugged his shirt up over his head, dropping it to the ground, and began kissing delicately at his white furred chest. Each touch of the bunny's soft lips made his heart beat a little faster, and the cute, pleased sounds she was making were starting to drive him wild. Tristan stroked her ears with one hand while the other slipped under her shirt to rub her back. "Don't I smell like smoke?" he asked quietly.

"I like the way you smell," Sandra said between kisses, pausing to press her little pink nose against his chest and breathe in. "It makes me feel safe."

After enjoying her attention for a few more minutes, Tristan took her by the shoulders and reluctantly pushed her back. The way she sat on her knees in his lap and looked up at him expectantly with her wide, innocent eyes made his heart race, and he took the hem of her shirt in his hands and lifted it up. She raised her arms into the air to help him, and he marveled at her black furred body as he slowly brought it into view.

Sandra was indeed slim, almost to the point of being too skinny, but she was beautiful. Lithe and graceful to him, no matter how awkward she seemed. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her small breasts nearly disappeared when she was stretched out like she was. As he finally tugged the cloth off and tossed it aside, he grabbed her hands in his own, keeping her arms in the air as he captured her mouth in a kiss.

A tiny moan escaped her, and she arched her back, trying to press herself against him but unable to get closer because of the way he held her. He broke the kiss, moving down to kiss her neck, then her shoulder, savoring the taste of her ebony fur with every caress. Tristan hated himself. He had taken a pure child and defiled her. He had found something beautiful and tarnished it. And he had been unable to stop, ruining her further each time she came back, no matter how hard he told her to stay away.

Tristan did not pretend he was guiltless, but had accepted the fact that he could not stop. He wanted her. He agonized when she didn't come over, waiting anxiously until he got to see her again. When she wasn't there he wanted her, and when she was there he wanted her even more. He wanted to cook for her, and to sit by her while she read, and he wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to taste her. At first, he had just told himself it would only be one more time, every time, but he done away with that delusion. He knew how hopeless he was now. He would trade a year of whatever time he had left for one more day with her.

She moaned again, writhing in his grip as he moved his head lower and began to lick her chest with long, slow strokes, making her black fur glisten. He paused in his tongue bathing to place a gentle kiss on each of her small pink nipples, already poking out stiffly from her chest. He continued lower, drawing his tongue over her taut stomach, teasing her belly button to make her squirm even more. He could see her muscles straining under her skin, and traced each one delicately, loving the way they twitched under him. He slipped the tip of his tongue under the waistband of her shorts and drew it across her abdomen teasingly, making her whimper needily and thrust her hips forward.

Her body was marvelous, and Tristan loved it. So delicate and sensitive; reacting to his slightest touch. Her fur had the sweetest flavor to it, Tristan could lick her for hours, and the salty taste of the sweat now dripping from her body made her taste even better. Her body was trembling under him, begging for his touch, and he was more than happy to oblige, closing his eyes and savoring each flick of his tongue.

Sandra was breathing heavily now, shuddering with each lick and trying to press herself harder against him. She was delicious, and he loved the way she writhed against him. He kissed his way slowly up her chest and neck before finally releasing her, making her collapse against him limply, panting.

"You're so beautiful," Tristan murmured, stroking her hair gently. He unclipped the barrette to let her silken hair flow down her back and was about to toss it aside when she grabbed his wrist to stop him, taking the clip and setting it carefully on the coffee table.

"I don't want it to break," she explained, not looking at him. "It was a present from you."

Tristan laughed and pulled her to his chest. "It was a cheap little toy I bought at the store, it's not like I got you real jewelry."

"You gave it to me," she mumbled into his chest, wrapping her arms around him. "I love it."

Tristan kissed the top of her head lightly, holding her tightly. "You're so childish." She didn't respond, simply tried to burrow deeper into his fur, her fingers gripping his back securely. Her breathing had still not slowed, and Tristan could feel a hot burst of air on his skin with each gasp. He took the chance to run his fingers through her hair, fanning it out behind her. It reached nearly half way down her back and felt softer than anything. They sat together for several minutes, just holding each other, until they were interrupted by a beeping from the kitchen.

"Food's done," he said, patting Sandra's back, but instead of getting up, she tightened her grip on him.

"I'm not hungry," she objected, nuzzling his chest.

"I thought you came over for dinner?" Tristan chuckled, tilting her chin up to see her face.

She met his eyes for a split second before looking away. She didn't speak for several seconds.

"I wanted to see you. I didn't want to be alone. I was waiting at the door so I wouldn't miss you when you got back."

"Why didn't you just go see one of your friends then?" he asked softly, dreading the answer.

"I didn't want to see them. I wanted to see you," she replied, pressing her face into his fur. "I missed you."

Tristan sighed mournfully, resting his forehead against her. "You'd be better off with your friends."

"I'm happier with you," Sandra whispered. "Would you rather I was with someone else?"

Tristan said nothing for several seconds, running his fingers lightly through her hair. "No. Never," he said at last. He could feel her smiling against him and sighed again. "I have to turn the oven off, why don't you wait for me in the bedroom." Sandra glanced up and back down quickly and nodded, slowly climbing off him and shuffling to the bedroom door. He stared at her as she left, unable to take his eyes off of her until she disappeared from sight. He shook his head to clear it and hurried to the kitchen. She was far too beautiful. It was hard to think of her as a little girl.

Tristan turned the oven off and threw the food into the fridge before stepping quickly to the bedroom, freezing in the doorway when he looked inside. Sandra had removed her shorts and panties and was sitting on her knees on the bed, waiting for him. It was dark in the room, and her black fur almost disappeared, but he knew every detail of her clearly. Tristan felt his mouth go dry as she looked up at him and then down at the floor. He walked slowly to the bed and cupped her cheek in his hand.

"You're so beautiful," he said with a smile, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss. Her small tongue slipped into his mouth and slid along his larger one while he gently pushed her onto her back. He began massaging her small chest, squeezing her soft breasts tenderly and rubbing his thumbs over her stiff nipples, eliciting more of her cute little moans. He broke the kiss and moved his head down to take one pink nub into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and over it while suckling gently. Sandra began panting and gripped his shoulders hard, whining softly in pleasure.

Tristan moved his hand from her other breast to her crotch and was surprised when he found the fur there already fairly wet. "Did you come already?" he teased her, stroking her slit with his finger tips.

Sandra covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. "When you were licking me before. I-it felt too good."

Tristan smiled and grabbed her under her armpits, moving her up so that her head was resting on the pillows before lowering himself between her legs. "You're so cute, you know that?" He didn't give her time to respond, taking one of her lean legs in his hands, rubbing her hip tenderly. He moved his lips to her calf and began placing small kisses along the inside, moving slowly towards her slit. Her leg twitched in his hands, making him smile, but he didn't let up, continuing his treatment until he reached her damp thighs.

The smell of Sandra's arousal was invading Tristan's senses, and he was already straining against his pants, but he ignored his own needs to focus on her. The taste of her cum mixed with her fur and sweat was intoxicating, and he started licking her clean, drawing the juices out of her as he moved from one side to the other, while carefully avoiding touching her swollen lips. Sandra was breathing harder now, her hips jerking up, begging for attention. Tristan smiled, and with one last kiss on her belly, dove into her needy sex.

Sandra cried out, bucking under him as his tongue slipped inside her. She was always such a quiet and soft spoken girl, but when they were alone like this she could finally let herself go. He loved the sounds she made when she didn't hold back; her pants, moans and wordless cries.

Tristan slipped his hands under her to grip her supple ass roughly, holding her hips off the bed as he explored every inch of her delicious cunt. He pressed his tongue deeper, swirling it around inside her, pulling back to suck on her tiny clit and tease her outer folds before delving inside once more.

Tristan continued to lap up her juices and massage her ass as he heard Sandra's breathing pick up and her whimpers rise in volume. Finally, hands twisting into the sheets, a full body shudder passed through her, her body twitching and jerking underneath him as Tristan slowed down, pulling back slightly to drink down the last of her sweet cum. Gently, he set her back down on the bed, sitting up to unbutton his pants.

"You taste as good as always," he murmured, smiling down at her. Sweat glistened on Sandra's fur, and her chest rose and fell rapidly, but she pushed herself to her knees and crawled over to help him. Tristan sat back and allowed her to pull his pants and boxers off, then leaned forward, taking her face gently in both hands and kissing her passionately, lowering her carefully onto her back before pulling away.

"Are you ready?" he asked, gently spreading her legs. He always asked her first, not knowing whether he would rather her say yes or no. She nodded quickly, and he lined himself up with one hand, pushing in slowly until he was pressed against her. He had to hold back a groan, feeling her warm lips wrap around him. Sandra was still very tight, and he was often afraid he was going to hurt her if he moved too quickly. Gripping her hips, Tristan began pumping into her, tenderly at first, but picking up speed as the pleasure built.

Sandra whimpered under him, her back arching off the bed, causing her chest to thrust out towards him. Tristan bent over her and took one of her small breasts into his mouth again, running his tongue over her nipple and gently teasing it with his teeth, careful not to cut her. She cried out suddenly, louder than before, and he realized with a start that his fingers were digging painfully into her sides.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" he asked, worry creasing his forehead as he released her and straightened up.

Sandra smiled faintly and shook her head. "I'm fine," she murmured, reaching her hands up toward him invitingly. Tristan exhaled slowly and leaned down, wrapping his arms around her and capturing her mouth in a deep kiss, slipping his tongue in to explore her mouth at the same time he began moving inside her again.

She moaned against his lips as his pace picked up again, and he could feel the muscles in her back shifting sensuously as they writhed against each other. Extending the claws of one hand, he drew them down her spine firmly, just the way she liked it. She cried out again, in pleasure this time, and he felt her tighten up around him, her entire body shuddering under him as she came. Tristan didn't stop or slow down, pumping in and out of her rapidly, driven by his lust. His breath was coming in shorter gasps and he was beginning to lose his rhythm. Already, he could feel his knot forming, and his body wanted nothing more than to force it into her small body, his instincts shouting for him to ravish her for his own pleasure.

Tristan grunted, his swollen member slapping into her wet folds with a loud clap each time. His movements were becoming more erratic, his concentration slipping as the torrent of pleasure built up. He gasped suddenly as a sudden pressure enveloped his knot. He looked down to find Sandra smiling up at him, gripping him in one hand and squeezing to relieve the pressure. He groaned again, pulling out at the last moment as the dam finally burst, release ripping through his body as thick ropes of cum shot out, covering her stomach and chest.

Tristan slumped over, panting to catch his breath and wiping the sweat from his eyes with the back of one hand. Smiling down at her, he bent down to kiss Sandra on the cheek. "You look beautiful," he murmured. She smiled and kissed him back, giving him a quick hug. After using a shirt to wipe Sandra clean, he pulled her to his side and covered them with the blankets. "How long can you stay?"

"I'll leave in the morning," she answered, placing her head on his chest. "I wanna stay like this."

Tristan smiled, tilting his head down to nuzzle her hair. He loved the way she smelled after sex, a mix of both of their arousal and sweat. "All right."

They lay together in silence, Tristan rubbing her back tenderly. "Are you....going to leave me?" she said suddenly.

"What?" he asked confused, sitting up to give her a concerned look.

Sandra looked up at him innocently, her small body curled up under the covers. "I don't want you to leave. I want to stay with you."

"I'm not thinking about leaving you," he promised, doing his best to give her a reassuring smile.

"But you're going to leave me someday. You always talk like it. Like you'll be going away." She placed her head on his lap, her eyes closed.

Tristan swallowed thickly, reaching down to stroke her ear gently. "Everyone has to leave eventually," he murmured.

She sat up, her hands between her knees, staring down at her lap. "I don't want you to leave," she whispered. She reached up to rub at her eyes and Tristan realized she was crying. "I don't want to be alone. I want you to stay with me. I want to be with you more."

Tristan felt his throat tighten up. "Sandra..." he murmured, reaching out to caress her cheek. His heart ached seeing her like this. He had never wanted to hurt her. She took his hand in both of hers, nuzzling his palm tenderly. He pulled her closer and held her to his chest, unable to think of anything else to say. He had always just assumed he was going to die someday soon, had already accepted it, but...he had never really thought about dying. He had never thought about leaving her.

Gentle fingers brushed against his cheek, and Tristan blinked in surprise, noticing for the first time that his vision had gone blurry. He was...crying? He swiped his hand over his eyes to clear them, and found Sandra watching him silently, her head resting on his shoulder. "I want to be with you too," he whispered with a smile.

Sandra smiled back and hugged him tightly, burying her face in his chest. "Will you stop smoking?" she mumbled into his fur.

"Yeah, I will," he promised

She pulled back to look at him and actually met his gaze. Tristan stared into her eyes, transfixed by their rich brown color. She rarely looked him in the eyes, always glancing away or staring at her feet. He let out a shaky breath. She was so beautiful. "Will you stay with me forever?" she asked quietly, her hands resting on his shoulders.

"I'll stay with you as long as I can-" Tristan began, but she cut him off, shaking her head quickly.

"Forever," she corrected, her voice firmer than he ever remembered hearing it.

Tristan took a deep breath, preparing what he would say, then let it out with a smile. "Forever," he agreed, leaning forward to kiss her warmly. "I promise."

Sandra smiled broadly and embraced him again. Tristan allowed himself to slip down until they were lying under the covers once more, nestled against each other. After a few minutes of silence, she stirred against him once more. "Why did you always smoke outside, though? I thought you hated the cold weather?"

Tristan shrugged, rubbing her back with one hand once more. "It's not good for kids to breathe that stuff in."

Sandra looked up at him in surprise, then began laughing, shaking in his arms and gasping for breath. Her laugh was beautiful, so smooth and pure. Tristan wished he could listen to it forever. After a few seconds, he couldn't help but join in too, holding her tightly and laughing until there were tears in his eyes. When they finally settled down, panting and sighing, Tristan bent his head down and kissed the top of her head. "Merry Christmas, Sandra."

"Merry Christmas," she echoed sleepily, closing her eyes and placing her head over his heart. Tristan began stroking her hair, listening to her breathing slow as she drifted off to sleep. Maybe it would snow tomorrow. Sandra would like that.