FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

(Disclaimer: Sierra, Sarin, and STKX Studio are the sole property of Statik and are used with his permission. Royle belongs to me. Copyrights held by the respective owners. PDF available on FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/6328150

Critique welcomed.)

Royle slipped through the Pink Pussycat's doors just before rain began to pound the pavement. Immediately his lupine ears caught the muted yet distinct, pulsing beat of techno through the building's sound proofing. The bored tabby watching the entrance gave him a curious look, this type of club almost never saw a tie or proper business shirt, but accepted the cover without comment. Seconds later a harsh buzz met his ears followed by a dull thunk as the door to the main floor released.

Ears folded down he pushed through, but even prepared there was a moment where his senses practically overloaded from all the stimuli that hit him. Cologne, perfume, deodorant, sweat, and smoke all mingled together so they could almost hide the spicy tang of musk that pervaded everything. Lights over the slightly raised dance floor strobed while red, blue, and purple spotlights swept about in intricate patterns that left trails in his vision.

But by far the most intense sensation was the bass heavy music which made the very air throb around him and within him. Every last strand of his gray fur stood on end, almost humming as he felt the vibrations traveled through his frame until it seemed his heart matched the rhythm. Normally the assault might have been unpleasant but right then he drew in a deep breath as if that could capture the energy that filled the air and basked in the sensation, completely unaware of the door slamming shut behind him.

Then he was moving; the sudden oneness he felt with the atmosphere lit something inside, a hunger that smoldered in the back of his mind. Too much time had passed since he'd taken the time off to let himself go and his mind focused immediately on the crowd gyrating before him. He noticed what they wore, their expressions, who they danced with and how - each broadcasting their own intents and hopes for the night.

A cluster of females dressed in street clothes dancing together, out for a night of fun where they could let loose. Singles drifted among the crowd, sizing one another up as they tried and failed to find someone they could connect with. The dancers that orbited the main throng, barely even there, attempting to belong but not yet brave enough to take the plunge and lose themselves in the heaving mass of bodies. Then off to the side those that watched from a distance while nursing drinks at the bar, either waiting for company or trying to numb away their lives for a single night.

None of them interested him.

He joined the crowd just the same, eyes alert. It was a hunt, in a way, and that sent a thrill which reached down to his most basic instincts to take hold and refused to dim even when he passed up one unsuitable prey after another. Then off to one side he caught a glimpse of yellow feline eyes, cocoa-brown fur, and curves. A black top hugged her torso decorated by a stylized white ankh being squeezed in a green serpent's coils down the front contrasted by loose fitting black cargo pants with tears down the legs and a single chain hooked to the belt loops. And most important: an expression shadowed by desires to match his own.

It took all of his self-control to keep from joining her right then. Instead he savored the find and let himself drift naturally in her wake. The briefest whiffs of her scent teased his nose. Those eyes met his. A sultry smile. A wink. His track wove through the masses with hers until finally, blissfully, she abandoned her current partner and slipped smoothly against his body.

"Mm... did I pick up a stalker?" she asked, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Royle didn't answer immediately. Instead he let his nose dip to the curve of her neck and savored her fragrance. Feminine, there was no doubt, with a hint of the sweat that glistened in her fur, but neither was a suitable description for what she gave off. It grabbed hold of the smoldering ember inside him and sparked it into flame. The distinct tightening of his pants accompanied by a new sensation of fullness was both beyond his control and utterly welcome. There was only one name for this. Desire.

"I wouldn't think it," he answered, one hand already trailing over her hip to caress her thigh. "Besides, I already know you're coming with me tonight."

A spark danced in her eyes and she twisted to one side before her hip bumped firmly into his crotch. "A confident puppy I see. What makes you so sure I want anything to do with you?"

The challenge brought a smile to his face that perfectly matched hers. He'd played the game enough to learn the rules but it was so rare to find someone else willing to play along.

His hand slipped to her inner thigh then drew it up, the other wrapped around her middle, both pulling back firmly - never forcing but insistent. "Well, I figure you could pick nearly any guy here to go home with-"

"Damn right."

"-but you know every last one of them will try and hold onto you when morning comes around."

Her body pulled against his grip ever so lightly, threatening to slip away the moment the mood struck her, but he resisted the urge to hold tighter. Instead he pressed closer, his movements mirrored to hers. He felt her chest rumble, unsure if it was a purr or merely the energy in the air. In either case she listened, one ear tilted toward him, and he could not fight the temptation to give it a tender lick.

"They don't understand. But you and I do," he continued.

Soft hands slipped over his. Fingers twined and then she turned in place, yellow eyes focused on him. "And what is it you think I understand?"

Both his hands resettled on curve of her rump, hips pressed forward against hers. "That the best fuck happens with another seeker, a single night to go wild, confident that in the morning you won't find they've turned into a clingy stranger."

Those slitted irises dilated briefly; her suggestive dance faltered by a half beat. He stroked her rounded bottom and trailed a hand to her chin, carefully lifting it while he leaned in. The scent of bourbon on her breath was unmistakable.

"And if you're wrong?" she asked, body warm and tempting.

A finger brushed across her cheek. "Well, that would sting, alright," he admitted. "But I'd move on and find someone else."

She started to speak again, but he deftly tapped her lips then leaned in to whisper to her ear. "I'm going to go to the bar now. I'll wait for an hour before I leave." He released her then, stepping back to make room for her next partner, and headed for the bar.

For a second he could feel her eyes on him before the crowd shifted and swept her along with them. The moment he stepped off the floor the music seemed to quiet just slightly, not quite so forceful now that the speakers weren't aimed directly at him, and he shivered once as a distinct tightness from of his body.

The bartender was good at her job, pretty, flirty, quick to keep the drinks flowing. She delivered his Mentirita with a blown kiss and a wink. It was an act, he was well aware, but even so he slipped a couple extra dollar tip across before turning to watch.

A swallow of his drink brought the initial flush from the booze, the highball glass the single cool point in a club that thrived on heat and movement. He drank in measured sips to stretch out his enjoyment of it, warm tendrils slow to spread from his stomach and work their way through his body. The comfortable sensation helped keep him in place even as he itched to seek out the sensual feline.

It was hardly a surprise that he couldn't spot her again. Too many bodies pressed into too little space, all gathered to escape the reality beyond the club's doors. Still, he kept an eye out just in case he might catch a glimpse her of again as he gradually worked his way through four Mentiritas.

Once he made it to the bottom of the last drink he found himself rocking a pleasant buzz and swirled the empty glass so the ice cubes bounced about inside before setting it down. The hour was up, though, and a quick glance confirmed she was nowhere in sight. He ignored his disappointment along with the frustrated churning n his loins while he settled his tab. As much as it sucked there was no reason to stay at the bar and wish for what wouldn't happen when there were other clubs he could hunt.

Out through the exit he half expected to immediately come under the assault of the rain but found it'd settled to a light sprinkle accompanied by a cool breeze. The atmosphere fit his dampened mood well. His eyes roamed over the strip, already considering the possibilities for the night when footsteps approached from behind.

"You really did leave. Bastard."

Startled he turned to see those yellow eyes, unable to find his voice immediately. Then he noticed her expression, somewhere on the boarder of annoyance and amusement, bringing a smile back to his face. He'd read her perfectly.

"Bastard? You're the one who made me think I'd been stood up," he said with a soft growl.

She threw back her head with a laugh. Not some indulgent chuckle, but a full laugh from the chest. "Like I was going to let you win."

His arm slipped around her shoulders and he stepped closer. "And yet here you are."

"Yes, well, you tried to leave me behind," she said, eyes suddenly serious. "That isn't something I can allow. I'm supposed to be the one who always leaves and I can't have you damaging my reputation."

"You have a point," he conceded. "How about you come with me, then, and I'll let you be the one to leave in the morning."

A coy grin formed on her muzzle then, just a hint of white teeth, narrowed eyes, ears tilted back just so. "Just as long as you've got some party at your place."

"Don't you worry about that, I put some beers in the fridge before I left," he assured her, starting to walk toward the hotel.

The purr that met his ears made his heart pound so hard he felt it would burst from his chest. He considered pulling her into a back alley right then, an idea that carried the sort of risky thrill he knew would drive them both wild, but he didn't want to risk being interrupted. Last thing he wanted was some white knight to ruin a perfectly good-

"Hey! You even listening?"

He blinked, then folded one ear back. "Huh? Sorry, I was just thinking about fucking you in the middle of the street. Decided it was a bad idea."

For the first time he saw genuine shock cross her face, then that particular smile of hers reappeared. "Oh damn." She shook her head and chuckled. "I was asking for your name."

"Royle," he said then, when she arched an eyebrow, winked. "Honest. If you like I'll show you my driver's license."

The wink was returned. "Don't make this weird. Name's Sierra."

"Well Sierra, the hotel is right here-"

"Hotel? Damn, you are confident."

He almost admitted he was just passing through on business but quickly bit his tongue. Too personal. She wouldn't care and he certainly didn't feel she had to know. Instead he shrugged rumbled lowly, then found his room and let her in.

"Here we-"

Before he could finish she grabbed his tie and pulled him down into a savage kiss. He gasped, caught off guard. Most girls at least waited to get inside the door. Instead Sierra pulled him along, never once allowing their lips to part and only pausing briefly to kick the door shut behind.

The shock was short lived, though. They both kicked off their shoes and he pressed his body firmly to hers. Hands already under her shirt slipped up over her body until he took hold of those supple tits. No bra, not that it was any surprise. Her nipples pressed into his palms, perfect and untainted by decorative piercings.

And then he was gasping for air. Sierra licked her lips, pushing his hands away with a purr, then took hold of her shirt and stretched in place. Chest pushed out, tail curled up behind her, inviting. In one smooth motion the shirt came off, tossed carelessly somewhere across the room, and before it hit the ground he was on her again.

"Shit babe," he muttered, nose pressed between her beautiful cleavage.

Her scent hit him hard. Some flaccid poet would probably try to compare it to roses, but their kind loved to feed girls empty flattery. No, Royle preferred to see it for what it was: spicy, almost like pepper but not quite as sharp, backed up by a heavy dose of musk. Lust. Pure, simple lust.

He yanked the tie from around his neck then lost the shirt so fast he was certain some of the buttons must've been ripped out. His hands pressed to her body, then slid down to her hips. Coarse denim met his fingers, provoked a low growl. The blasted cargo pants were in his way and he wanted them gone. Now.

In his haste he fumbled once with the snap, distracted by the light prickle of claws down his back. "Some sort of problem, puppy?"

The taunt got to him, ears flicked back, and he pushed her firmly back as the snap finally came undone. He nearly ripped them in his haste to push them from her body, revealing a black thong.

"Not at all," he said, then kissed her hard and pinned her to the wall.

The heat off her body, that feminine scent, the sound of her breath... it just made him strain against those confining slacks. Her claws dug into his flesh; pulled him in firmly. As if he needed any more encouragement.

He backed off just long enough to lose his pants and boxers then pressed in again, his member throbbing against her belly. Their lips met, muzzles locked together in a desperate, desire fueled kiss. One hand slipped down her thigh... back up... hooked a finger into the thong and drew it to one side.

"Ready babe?"

Sierra let out a sharp mrowl. "Quit stallin' and fuck me."

A growl rolled out of his chest, his ears flat. His hips drew back, the pointed tip of his shaft leaving a trail of pre in her fur. Lower, over her hips... Lower, over her mound... Her outer lips... Then it slipped in, a bolt went up his spine, and with a snarl he drove his hips back up against hers.

Heat enveloped his cock. Warm... moist. She seemed to ripple around him. It was almost, almost, more than he could take. He groaned, eyes squeezed tight, and repositioned slightly to take hold of her breasts once more.

And that was all he could stand to wait, his hips bucking, driving his member into her as hard as he could. A feline yowl sounded out, Sierra's body arched against his, hands grasping his fur. Her eyelids fluttered, her head tilted back, chest heaving. All of it sent a shiver through him, his knot already beginning to swell out, tightness in his balls.

Eagerly he forced his lips against hers again; eyes closed, and pressed his growing knot into her. The type of desperate, passionate kiss that comes just before climax. He moaned into it, unable to help himself and was caught completely off guard by the sharp pain that blossomed on his lip as she bit him. Hard.

His eyes snapped open once again to be met by her piercing yellow gaze, already able to taste copper in his mouth. She arched ever so slightly, then with more strength than he thought possible shoved him back. Next thing he knew his feet caught on something, whole body going tense as he was taken by an eerie weightlessness that dragged him back from the brink, unable to look away from those intense yellow orbs.

To his surprise he landed softly, mind reeling until he realized he'd fallen to the bed. He panted heavily, cock twitching in the cold air while pre leaked from the tip and rolled down his length, only able to stare at Sierra with a dumbfounded expression.

A sultry smile shone back at him, her eyes half lidded. Her claws hooked into the waistband of her thong, easily shredding the material so it fell away. He throbbed at the sight of her body fully bared to him, yet could only think about how he'd missed the minimal star tattoo just above her left hip.

She pounced with a light snarl, hands forcing his shoulders to the bed. "You're mine, puppy. I'm gonna make you howl."

He didn't answer; didn't have a chance to before she positioned herself over his twitching shaft and easily took him. No hesitation, hips immediately beginning to rock in tight, forceful circles as she rode him hard. Claws curled in then dragged down over his chest leaving angry red lines.

The pain seemed to light up in stark contrast to the divine, hot squeeze around his length. He tried, just once, to reach for her bobbing tits but was met with a snarl and a fresh set of pricks on his shoulders.

Part of him called out to ignore the pain; just grab her, throw her to the ground, and show the bitch what he could do. But the sensations were just too exquisite. Instead he focused on matching his movements to hers, simply content to bask in the moment and give himself over completely.

"F-fuck... you trying to kill me sweetheart?" he gasped, half expecting her to laugh.

Instead she moaned. "Damn straight."

Royle's hands slid to her thighs and earned him a fresh set of claw marks down his chest that he happily accepted. The bump and grind against his hips shifted, became more frantic, less steady just as he felt his own body begin to tense urgently. For a moment he strained against the press of her claws, mindless of the pain, huffing in an attempt to catch his breath.

Then his whole body arched, one last thrust to drive his knot into that eager pussy, and his vision blurred. His cock twitched once, twice, and the first jet of his thick cum shot into her, howl piercing the night. Sierra's own yowl joined a moment later, her once smooth movements jerky and erratic.

Just as his cry began to fade her lips pressed hungrily against his, stealing away his breath right when he most needed it most. His mind swam, only aware of his twitching cock, almost blinding pleasure, and yellow eyes. Vision tunneled, his chest on fire with the need to breathe. Then just as suddenly as the kiss started she collapsed against him and air overloaded with the scent of sex flooded into his lungs.

He had no clue how long he laid there, dazed and gasping, but when his senses finally returned Sierra was leaning on her elbows above his chest, a smug grin playing across her features as his still hard member slipped lewdly from her body.

"What do you think, puppy?" she asked in the most pleased tone he'd ever heard.

Royle took a deep breath then slipped from under her suddenly, one hand pressing on her back to force her chest down. "I think it's time I taught you the real meaning of doggy style."

* * *

The sound of the shower reached through his dreams and pulled him mercilessly back to consciousness. Every inch of his body seemed to ached, scratches across his chest and arms burning angrily in reminder of the night before. His eyes drifted open and he immediately regretted the decision as his head began to throb.

For a second he was confused, there was no way he'd managed to drink enough to feel this hung over, then somewhere from the back of his mind he remembered the pill Sierra had given him the first time he started to tire. Whatever it was had one hell of a kick, he could only remember brief flashes of intense pleasure after that point. That and the air tasting purple, for all the sense that made.

Eyes closed again and he simply focused on the sound of water, trying to imagine how it would run over the feline's curves. It was a pleasant game, and he was just tired enough that it was easy to conjure the vivid images that came with dreams. Unfortunately the water cut off suddenly and after the last flurry of splashes he was left in silence again.

Or he would have been if not for that annoying buzz on the night stand. He reached out and smacked the alarm clock to no effect, muttering a curse under his breath. It took a moment more before his hand settled on the vibrating phone and he quickly hung up. The last thing he needed was his boss bugging him.

But the fucking thing just started to vibrate again. He snarled under his breath and brought it to his ear without even opening his eyes, fumbling for a moment before he found the button to answer the call.

Immediately a strange voice spoke. "Babe, where the heck wee you last night? I thought we were supposed to meet up."

It wasn't his boss, obviously, and in his half asleep state it took all of his wits to form his reply while he gingerly pushed himself up. "Huh?'

Silence. Then: "Who the fuck is this?"

"That's my line, asshole. Why are you calling me?" he snapped as the voice hit just the right note of cocksure and pissed off to grate on his nerves, setting his head to throbbing even worse.

Another pause. "Where the fuck is Sierra? I swear if you hurt her-"

Royle pulled the phone from his ear and growled softly, then finally mustered the willpower to open his eyes again to find himself holding an iPhone. He didn't own an iPhone. "This isn't my phone," he said`, his mind finally starting to come to speed.

"No shit! Now give me to-"

Somehow he managed to ignore the annoying voice on the other end of the line and staggered over to the bathroom. He rapped on the door once, and took a few deep breaths to calm himself while he waited. Thankfully it was only a moment before Sierra poked her head out.

"Your faggot boyfriend wants you to come home so he can put a leash on you," he said just loud enough for his voice to carry to the receiver, then handed her the phone.

"Faggot? You motherfucker I'm gonna-"

Sierra quickly put the phone to her ear. "Sarin? What are you... no I'm fine why are... the shoot? Shit, I forgot!"

He leaned back, purposefully ignoring the conversation until he heard her hang up. "Need to go?" Royle asked, rubbing his head.

She smiled and stepped out of the restroom, back in her clothes from the other day with the addition of his tie. Looked good. Better than good really.

"Yep. Thanks, was a blast," she said and hurried out, leaving him with a strange ache that seemed to resonate with the cuts that covered him.

He stepped into the bathroom, figuring he should get cleaned up as well, and immediately spotted a business card. "What the... 'Call me if you want a new job.' What the hell is STKX?" It was another moment before he blinked and looked at the hotel door. "Bitch stole my tie."