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Chapter 4

Doctor Theo Rémy floated over Eve's unconscious form, his old achy legs folded up beneath him in a posture that took longer to achieve every day. His paws, gnarled with use and years, were contorted into mystical mudra shapes that channeled energy from the many worlds surrounding and overlaid on that which he normally shared with his students and disciples, giving him fuel to work with as he sought to understand and unweave what had driven her so far into the nightmare realms.

Invisible to the world of the living in his projected, astral state, the grey-furred lynx twitched a tufted ear and focused his will, preparing for the culmination of a spell many hours and incantations in the making. Waking someone from an unknown enchantment was always tricky, often requiring great subtlety and caution. However, when he'd first seen the fraying state of her mind, like a wool rug being methodically shredded by a slow-motion tornado, he'd known brutal force and overwhelming mastery would be necessary as well.

Weaving such things together had taken him two full days now, given he was already maintaining spells to keep her dream-state suppressed, and he was not yet any closer to discovering who or what had done this to her than when he'd begun. Dr. Theorem felt little pain in his astral body, despite the contortions of his mudras and yoga posture. He knew that would no longer be true once he found his way back to his physical form.

In the shadowy reflection of a physical world that drifted around him like wet oil paint, he saw the blurry, smearing golden mass belonging to Mack Franklin, as the burly student paced and fidgeted as he had for a time interminable. Dr. Theorem knew his suffering in a way only a magician such as himself could; he could see it, in the very physical form it projected into the Astral world, a growing, writhing, rotting mass of razor blades and broken glass, speared into a bubbling mass of raw rent flesh.

Looking on it too long pained the aging legend, so he put it out of his mind, ignoring the form of solid misery that floated in that immaterial place. Instead, he focused on Eve's pattern, which was far too static for his tastes. Even in the Astral world, she was represented by only her physical shape, with the slightest of deformations here and there where her cocooned and unconscious mind dreamed and struggled on. Her strength was admirable, as he'd known it would be. He had never imagined she would be subjected to this level of horror, though. Even through his magics that kept her mystically slumbering, the potency and terror of the nightmare showed through in little whorls of greasy shadow that seeped from her avatar.

Finally, his spells, thoughts, and workings combined together into a coherent and ready whole, wound together like mystical elevator cable. The mighty wizard exerted his will by use of a single ineffable word that passed through the Aether, rippling everything around it with the strength it bore, until all the world seemed a warped and wobbling reflection in stormy water. When the eddies of reality touched her slumbering, assailed mind, Eve's Astral body exploded outward in a mass of horror that dwarfed the agony of her boyfriend like a nova outshining an asteroid. Agony he had only been able to stave away by the greatest of exertions, occupying all of his time for the last few days.

The sudden strain was immense, just trying to maintain his projected state in the face of such a shockwave of powerful emotion. A lesser fur would have been blasted back into his body, ears and eyes gushing blood as he screamed for the loss of his sanity. Dr. Theorem never even flinched, maintaining his levitated state as he grasped a seam in the transcendent horror and shoved his will into it like a spike. He had to break the outer cocoon of her entrapped dream before he could do anything for her, and knew full well that literally anything could be going on inside.

His astral form reached down, and touched the spirit-reflection of a silvery scimitar shot through with spiderlines of darker metal, that glowed with the power of faith and ancestry contained within.

"Paladin, I apologize for waking your sleeping soul. I will need your aid, to help a good woman live."

Eve cowered in a place of utter blackness so dark it seemed as if light had been merely a fantasy, dreamed up by a pathetic girl too weak to handle the reality that there was none to be found. For most furs like her, the darkness would be comforting, or even just familiar. After all, Eve Hightower had been born blind, given sight at the age of four only by virtue of transplanted lenses and corneas from a fresh cadaver. A cadaver she had often dreamed would come for her, looking for the lost parts of its face and flesh.

There, in the pitch-black so deep her mind was making up streaks of color just for something to see, the little girl curled up in a ball and sobbed long past the time where her physical body would have stopped her for simple lack of tears. She was alone, in a void that was everything and always, a blackness that would never part and never end. The idea of existence was a lie, she knew, and all her memories just hallucinations of a sole and lonely soul trapped in an endless universe of nothing.

After so many timeless eons alone, something slimy, viscous and chill abruptly slid against her arm, so briefly she thought it was merely her minds playing tricks again. Just as it had once played the long trick of giving her a life to live, in a place where other people were real. Then it slithered over her again, and she choked on her fear, scrambling for purchase in a place with no ground and nothing to grab but the very thing that had touched her and brought such a revolted feeling of horror she would have puked if her stomach was real.

For she knew then that her own mind was an illusion, a hallucination of the great and vast nothing, which itself did not even exist.

Then the tentacle was back, slithering across the imagined and nonexistent arches of her feet, leaving slimy residue that made her twitch away, spinning in the blackness in utter weightlessness. Another touch, another tentacle, sent her heart into thundering hysterics, brushing across her shoulder. Then a third was on her, and she could feel tiny mouths squirming on its surface, mouthing at her naked body in a way that made her imaginary skin crawl so badly she wanted to tear it off with her own fingers just to make the sensation stop.

She wanted to lash out, to fight back, but knew there was nothing she could do. Weak, powerless, the petite vixen curled in on herself with wracking sobs twinging their way up from her gut. The nausea and terror overwhelmed her, to the exclusion of all else, as the tendrils lashed out and enwrapped her arms and legs, yanking them outward until the joints crackled and her motionless fear resolved into hysterical shrieking.

The teeth of those tiny mouths began to gnaw into her, tearing her fur out in painful clods, then crushing into her flesh rather than truly parting it with a bite. In such excruciating pain, her howls had ceased to even register to her, Eve's mind feeling as if it were shattering apart under the strain.

Doctor Theorem's spells had run into unexpected resistance in opening the dream-shell, and he knew Eve's time would quickly be running out now that he'd been forced to allow her mind to notice the dream. Unable to physically end herself, as others had done when subjected to the terrible torment of the nightmare-force, her sanity however strong could not last much longer. With a metaphysical heave and a grunt, he grabbed the two edges of the dream cocoon he'd exposed with his first magical hit, and threw his mystical might in to shatter it open.

Behind him, a glowing ephemeral shape glimmered like its flesh was made of sunlight, and waited for him to open their way. In it's right paw, held downward and relaxed, was the scimitar Dr. Theorem had kept close and protected ever since the day of Paladin's death.

With a crinkling crunch that reverberated across the psychedelic swirls that surrounded them both, the cocoon finally burst open. Dr. Theorem didn't turn to talk to Paladin, being far too experienced for such a foolish mistake.

"Move quickly but be careful, old friend. Your body is dead, but this may affect you still."

Paladin's glowing golden form slid around him, dexterous and lithe as she had been in life, her shedding light illuminating the blackness around her like a torch in a vast cavern. Theo couldn't help a sigh, as she moved past him, that physical contact so long missed drawing up memories of their time together in the living world. The hours and days they had spent together, walking, talking, fighting, laughing and grieving, and the weeks they had been together before her death.

She was svelte and muscular as always, where he had withered and shriveled all too quickly in even those three short intervening years. Such, he reminded himself, was the price of living, and the wages of grief. He reminded himself to stay focused, however, knowing quite well how excruciatingly painful her current state would be to the soul of a dead woman. That she showed no sign of pain was utterly unsurprising given the very steely will she'd always possessed, but he knew it was there all the same.

"Stay behind me, Theo. I sense the presence of demons."

"Demons? You're not speaking in metaphor."

"No. I'm not."

Then she lifted her glimmering silver-black scimitar, and Dr. Theorem learned a horrible truth. He had known for many years that the scimitar called Sunlight would glow in the presence of evil. That very fact had saved their team so very many times, until the fateful day of the great battle. That day, it had glowed to warn them, but not done so with enough time to prepare them for the mighty assault that came. The colors it glowed were related to the demons and evils it detected, to give them foreknowledge of their foes.

Back when Paladin was still alive, in the moments before that vast battle had begun, it had flown through a rainbow of colors too many to be interpreted, except for one which had overwhelmed the others in its viciousness and power. A royal purple hue, shot through with blackness that dripped like blood from the aura, had told him of Warlocke's foul and vicious presence.

The glow he saw now was the color of violet flowers, shot through with rotting pustules of that very same demon-blackness. Dr. Theorem, the archmagister of his world, forced himself to remain calm. Even small differences, such as the color being slightly different, told him this foe was not in fact the long-missing Warlocke. However, the blackness' texture, and the purplish coloration told him things hardly less disturbing.

Then he had no more time to ponder, as shrieking hell-spawn exploded from the liquid blackness around them both. Paladin threw her gleaming left arm out and back to make certain Theo was squarely behind her, a purely reflexive act both knew was unnecessary. They'd fought together too many times to need such babysitting.

The first outliers of the foul horde swooped in at hard angles from above, shrieking with their viscous, dripping, oily black claws extended. Dr. Theorem flung his left arm out, casting loose of his body a whipping tendril of silvery light that exploded into a latticework dome of energy just an instant before the swarm struck. With shrieking, hissing noises of agony, they exploded on its surface, their shadowy, tentacle-festooned bodies blasting apart into fetid gobbets of smoking flesh.

As the shield overloaded and failed, he threw his other paw upward and roared a string of arcane words that rippled across the aether with a sound like shattering glass. The shockwave battered the amorphous monsters, shattering the wings of those that had them, and brought the fight to the ground.

Having waited for her old friend to bring the fight from the sky with all the patience of a statue, Paladin twirled her scimitar in one paw, rolling it over her knuckles and tossing it into the air before catching in the same motion that had her whirling to slice down the first of the oncoming host. With grace like the desert wind, with the ferocity of an inferno, she danced into the stalled horde of enemies, and began striking them down with lethal, sunlit, fiery precision.

Her scimitar howled as it struck, bursts of colored light and a clamor of ancient prayer sounding the demise of every demon she touched. With her power, and the strength of her faith, the demons needed only to be touched to be dispelled. Yet their numbers were legion, and they swarmed at the two heroes from all directions, even from above and below.

So, Dr. Theorem waggled his arthritic fingers and uttered a chanting mantra, before beginning to walk as a shield of silvery glow surrounded them both. The demons that approached too close were wracked with searing pain as arcane light played on their imbalanced natures, flooding them with purification magics that were like lethal poison to the creatures of pure nightmare and evil.

"This will take some time. We should pace ourselves, Theo," Paladin called out, as she danced under a slashing, clawed tentacle, whirled, and hacked the thing in half. It's burning pieces fell away, sizzling away to nothingness in a blackened, greasy smoke.

"We may not have time, Aisha. We must wake her, and soon!"

The first thing Jeff registered was that he felt sore. Not the sort of soreness that came from physical exertion. More the sort that sat behind his eyes throbbing maliciously, giggling at his suffering and daring him to open his eyes and confront the evil sunlight and its maleficent effects on his poor weakling stomach. A second or two after that, he registered the need to pee, and an aching morning wood that was pinned against the mattress by his awkward sleeping position.

Then he registered warmth greater than what he was used to, from so many years of sleeping in a lonely and empty bed. Trying to roll to one side, he found his progress impeded by a paw that grabbed his shoulder, sending a start through him that made his eyes open despite the danger.

Though they watered from a throbbing hangover, he nonetheless made out a blurry shape moving towards him, just in time for a soft, furry face to press against his own, for hot, seeking lips to find his and help part them, so that a sloppy, fresh-tasting tongue could slip into his muzzle and lock him into a passionate kiss before he even had the chance to really register he was fully awake. That paws were rubbing up and down his exposed belly, teasing the soft fur and softer flesh there, before tracing up to cup his cheeks and hold him in place, only made his morning wood throb all the harder.

When a paw slid from his face, he didn't give thought to where it was going, too busy trying to fight back with his own tongue against the strange but welcome onslaught. When the paw touched his throbbing hardness though, he sucked in a hiss of breath, a squeezing stroke of his still sticky-slick cock reminding him suddenly that though it felt good to have his dick played with, he was about to piss all over that paw, himself, and the bed, if he didn't get to the toilet and quick.

"Mrff gotsha pee," he managed to mumble, against lips that were reluctant to let his free to enunciate. The snicker of his companion brought back to him the fact he was kissing a male, and John Silverstone at that, so quickly that Jeff immediately clammed up, eyes wide and staring as his lips stopped moving. His cock, still being stroked, gave no sign of losing its diamond hardness, though, and as the jaguar felt rising panic for his masculinity, John sat down on the bed next to him and whispered into his ear while nibbling it in a way that made the jaguar shiver all too easily.

"Go empty the snake, then come right back, kitty. I made breakfast."

Nodding spasmodically, Jeff rolled away when he felt the paw leave his aching prick, then yelped and ran for the bathroom with his tail fluffed out when John's paw swatted him across the rump. His whole body felt hot, like a blush had run from his cheeks down his back, around to his dick, and all the way back up. Yanking open the creaky bathroom door, he slid into the darkened chamber, flicked the light on, then flicked it right back off when his own image stared back at him through the dusty mirror. Then, after a few seconds of hyperventilating, he turned the light back on to give himself another look.

He looked scared, rounded fuzzy ears pinned back and glimmery blue eyes wide. His tail was fluffed out like he'd just been attacked, puffing up in ancient instinct to look bigger and scare off a foe. He also looked like a mess, his face matted down with dried spit from all the messy making-out they'd done last night. Down his slender chest, his silky black pelt was mussed and matted from the sweat and exertion of the day before, not to mention a few droplets of off-white where his cum had spilled a bit from the corners of John's muzzle around the base of his fuzzy, damp sheath.

'Oh shit that muzzle...', the cat thought, as another flush of heat rushed through him, from the groin up this time. In the mirror, he could see his long, slender, spiny cock bouncing in tune with his heart, a symphony conductor's wand directing his flying emotions. A sound of padding feet in the hall outside made his heart jump, and he rushed toward the toilet, having suddenly remembered his urgent need.

Letting loose when he was so full of beer from the night before was worth the discomfort of peeing through a powerful erection, and the cat leaned forward, grabbing onto the smooth countertop with his right paw and the tank of his toilet with the left as the traditional male morning noise started up.

He took that meditative thirty seconds to consider his situation, trying to apply normal logic to the situation. His regular cynicism said this was a terrible idea. John was on a rebound after losing his long-term boyfriend, and Jeff himself was straight. Or, rather, he reminded himself, thought he was straight. Remembering how good it felt to be played with by the all-too-masculine wolf, coaxed to a mind-blowing orgasm that had left him gasping like a fish on his couch last night really played counter to that bit of his identity.

Logically, he realized, he was also upset because of all the barely-veiled homophobia he'd grown up around. In the foster care system, calling something 'faggy' instead of 'a bad idea,' was all too common whether the kids meant it as a slur against gays or not. Logically, he knew, having a sexual relationship with another guy wasn't something to freak about it. It didn't really help.

Shaking himself clean, he stepped into the shower, twisting the squeaking old rusty head out of habit. Cold water smashing across his nerves jolted him, and reminded the cat that he was supposed to go out and eat breakfast now, not shower like it was just another day. Still, autopilot had its advantages, and he started soaping up, figuring John could wait ten damn minutes.

Lowering his head beneath the spray, he wet himself down, letting the cool water warm up until it filled his fur with the welcome heat he was used to. Steam filled up the postal-stamp-sized bathroom in minutes, and the misty fog helped him to relax and avoid his problems if just for the moment. Touching his paw to the grounding rod he'd built into the shower, he started soaping up, rubbing thick suds into his chest, under his arms, soaping his package and taking a few seconds to enjoy the sensation, before bringing the shampoo up to lather his head.

It was only when his eyes were completely covered in suds that a perking ear told him the bathroom door had opened.

"Hey," said John's steady, masculine voice, just before the toilet flushed with a rush and gurgle of water. "You forgot to flush. Mind if I join you?"

The last part of John's sentence briefly short-circuited Jeff's brain. His paws shot down to cover himself, and the cat gave a squeak of embarrassment, as his eyes started to sting from trying to open while covered in suds. The wolf laughed, and reached in, parting the shower curtain as he cupped water from the spigot and used it to help wash the suds off his eyes.

"Sorry, force of habit. Not used to guys who're shy at all. So can I get in with you? I promise not to do anything you don't want."

Jeff kept his eyes closed, using the sudsy stinging as an excuse, as the warm water beat on a shivery back. Slowly, rationally, he let his soapy paws fall away from his half-flaccid groin, and he shrugged his shoulders with an awkward mumble of assent. The wolf stepped right into the tub-shower enclosure, and pulled the curtain shut behind him, before sliding his arms around Jeff's sudsy hips and pulling him in close.

The wolf's breath smelled like mint, probably already brushed, Jeff figured. Most likely the taste of cum and morning breath put together was unpleasant. He found himself wondering just what that was like, as the wolf pressed him up against the wall beneath the shower head and kissed him again, parting his lips and sliding tongue against the jaguar's own as his paws rubbed up and down the cat's back, then scooped down to grasp his ass and knead the muscles there.

Though his eyes did still sting a bit when he opened them, Jeff couldn't deny the rising heat in his groin as his arms instinctively went around the wolf's muscular waist. The kiss, likewise, sent spikes of tingling energy down his spine, ruffling his already-sopping fur, as they shared spit and tongues and closeness under the warm rain of the shower head.

When John's paw squeezed his rump, the jaguar's eyes lidded shut, and his head tilted into the lip lock. He enjoyed the attention, the touch. It was like going his whole life never knowing what sunlight felt like, only to emerge frightened but grateful into the warm light of day. The fact that there was a long, thick wolf cock sandwiched up against his belly did still feel a bit unnatural, but the small remaining rational bit of the jag's mind told him to relax about that fact, and enjoy what seemed clearly good for him.

Finally, as the water started to lose a bit of heat, John broke their lip lock, trailed his tongue across Jeff's soaked cheek, and gave him a husky whisper that sent shivers all the way down to the tip of the hunting cat's tail.

"Goddamnit you're adorable."

His blush turned from one of arousal to one of cock-straining arousal and embarrassment, at which point he buried his face in the damp fur of the wolf's ruff, and bubbled out a nervous laugh into the still-musky pillow of fluff.

"God...John, uh...What the fuck are you doing to me, man? It's like I want to giggle or some shit..." the jaguar muttered out, as the water started going from lukewarm to just plain cold. It seemed as good an excuse as any to snuggle into the wolf's long, wiry arms and fluffy grey-black pelt. "Are you giving me the queeritis or something?"

Clearly a joke, which the wolf responded to with a barking laugh, as he turned them both in the shower, taking the increasingly chilly water on himself and letting the sopping and freshly-clean jaguar drip.

"Well, let's see...Wobbly knees, flushed cheeks...Hm. Swollen lips." Another kiss, quick and warm. "Extensive erection." A paw slid around from Jeff's butt, grabbing almost casually onto the pointed, throbbing black boner that stuck straight out like a spear, making the cat hiss in pleasure and stiffen his paws against the wolf's back.

"Given the symptoms, kitty, yeah, I'd say you've caught the gay." He grinned brightly, and gave the stiff, water-sluicing cock in his paw a smooth stroke, while reaching for the soap. When Jeff smacked him in the chest playfully with a fist, the wolf laughed and stroked again, getting another hiss of pleasure as his paw pads jangled the delicate barbs there.

"Nngh...You're a bastard."

"Oh, you want me to let go?"

"...Kiss my ass..."

"Okay. Go get dried off'n we'll play more once you've eaten something."

"Wait what?"

John grinned and turned him around with a paw to the cat's shoulder, then planted an open palm onto his ass with a meaty thwack that had the cat skittering out of his own shower and grabbing for a towel. Looking back, with a grumpy glower that didn't do a thing to hide the look of anticipation or his throbbing-hard dick, he saw the wolf grinning like a loon while soaping up. He looked good, Jeff decided, a long lean naked grey-black lupine with just enough scars to be mysterious without going straight to terrifying.

"You heard me, kitty cat."

Five minutes later, with a muzzleful of hash browns and sausage roiling around in his nervous belly and sable-furred tail flicking with mixed trepidation and anticipation, Jeff Castillas sat on the edge of his bed. The shower noises had stopped by then, and both furs had evidently gotten the idea to blow-dry themselves, based on the noise. Jeff ran the drier's hot windstream over his head one more time, and was just unplugging and setting down his spare fur drier when his bedroom door sounded with a knock.

"Uh...C'mon in," the jaguar forced out, stomach giving a bit of a flip-flop. He considered covering his once-more flaccid crotch with the blanket, out of general habitual modesty. The wolf didn't give him time to think about it, though, opening up the door and striding into the room with a grin and a look of purpose, his tail high and wagging slowly back and forth.

John was still naked, his fur fluffing from the effects of drying out, and his stride spoke of a dominant confidence that made something small and needy in the jaguar perk up to pay attention. The wolf's erection, now that he had the chance to see it without soap, bubbles, water, and his own fur to block the view, wasn't quite so enormous as Jeff had feared. Still, it was tall, proud, thicker than his own with an almost ominous thickness at it's base that would swell into the knobs of a knot during sex.

Jeff's muzzle felt dry, and he swallowed to try dragging some saliva up from somewhere, as the confident, experienced, dominant lupine strode over and smoothly bent down, grabbing the jaguar's chin with a deceptively gentle paw. Instead of kissing, as Jeff expected, John smiled, licked the tip of the cat's pink nose, and spoke.

"You're nervous."

"H-how can you uh...T-tell?"

"Well, first because you're stammering. Which is adorable. Second, because all your electronics are fritzing out."

"Aw shit..." The cat looked around, to find that sure enough his alarm clock's face plate was full of random lights, and the tv he kept in his room had ghostly little lights playing over its surface. A sudden urge to curl up and hide himself, until the electrical current died away with his nervousness came over him, but before he could get the chance, John pulled his chin upward and kissed him.

"Shh. Hey. Don't hide from the nervousness. Learn t'be less nervous. Better solution."

He knew the wolf was right, but it went so counter to the grain of what he knew, and what he'd done to cope all his life. Still, he was willing to follow the dominant male's lead, and turned as his paw was taken and pulled, until he was facing the wolf as he knelt down on the bed. Then his paw was released, and the wolf turned and laid flat, arms and legs akimbo, proud maleness flopped against his belly.

"So poke me, touch me, lick, just look, whatever. But you've gotta get over being body shy. You can't hurt me with your power, so just do whatcha want, okay?"

As if he was worried this was a dream, that any motion or sudden word could shatter it like so much glass, Jeff moved his paw over the wolf's slowly rising and falling chest, then let it hang there, so close he could feel the body heat.

"A-are you...Sure?"

John rolled his eyes, and folded his paws behind his head, tail tip batting with amused impatience against the bed.

"Yep. Just if you're gonna put your dick up my tailhole, use some lube or somethin'."

The google-eyed stare he got back from a gobsmacked jaguar never ceased to amuse him, and he snickered at the pie-faced look. Then he took the jag's paw with one of his own, and brought it down to his chest just over the nipple.

"Go on. Touch."

Touch was just what he did, then. First, just where John had put his right paw, with nervous little motions, he pet the fur and kept looking up for any sign of disapproval. The fact that he caught himself expecting to be batted away or told to fuck off struck the jag as odd, right up until he remembered how awful his only other real male contact had ever been. His father was no peach, and had often punished his young son for anything he deemed annoying. Such as hugs.

So, steeling his will, the jaguar brought his other black paw up, and settled it on the wolf's flank, playing with the still-damp fur there, and slowly began building up the nerve to explore more areas and make broader motions. John laid almost totally still for it, moving only to keep his eyes on Jeff's face whenever the jag looked his way. When the cat had one paw to John's neck, feeling his warm pulse throbbing away calmly under the fur and flesh, they made eye contact for a long moment, seeming to Jeff's mind as if some kind of consent were being given that he couldn't quite understand.

Then, as if of their own accord, his paws moved down the wolf's body, touching his hips and flat belly, avoiding the slightly-dribbling red pole entirely while skipping to touch the lupine's knees.

"C-can I? Uh..."

"Like I said, kitty. Anything you wanna touch. I'm normally a top, but this is all 'bout you right now."

Seeing the bulb of his knot, Jeff swallowed a muzzleful of dry maw. The thought of that going anywhere, nevermind up his ass, made a muscle in the cat's rump flutter and squeeze protectively. Still, he shifted, knee-walking until he was between the wolf's feet, then patted his knees until John bent them, exposing his low-hanging balls and the half-hidden pink beneath his tail to view.

Feeling out of breath, Jeff sat there for a while, licking his lips every so often as he tried to get up the guts to touch those most private of places. He knew John was right. Beating his anxiety would be a great step on his way to controlling his powers. If he was to have a normal life, or anything even approaching it, he had to have the juice under his control and not the other way around.

Also, he really wondered what that hidden pink place felt like, if it was anything like the porn he'd read. Straight porn, of course - the sight of gay porn had always revolted him, though he realized in that moment it may have been a sense of self-revulsion rather than disgust with the material.

"Shit...I'm a homophobe, aren't I?"

John tilted his head, and raised a brow at the jaguar.

"What? Well, no more than any guy who's a little scared to experiment. I mean you treat me pretty good."

"N-no I mean...I'm...I uh...I never thought of myself as bi."

No response came for a second. Then John sat up a bit, leaning on his elbows to meet eyes with a jag suddenly having a lot of trouble maintaining that gaze.

"Hey...If you want to stop, Jeff, I won't be mad. But if you want to keep going, I want you to grab my dick and smear the pre around."

Such simple, assertive words, said in such a supportive honest voice made the jag's chest lurch. Confused, full of feelings he was still sussing out, the black cat nodded his head and slid forward, until his knees had touched John's firm behind. Delicately, like he was using robotic arms to move fragile microprocessors, his paws came down. When his left touched a silky, fuzzy, very full sack, he jerked back a bit on reflex, as if he'd been shocked. Then, laughing at himself nervously, he took them in paw more firmly, feeling their weight as they rolled warmly in his palm. Taking the cock between his fingers came next, wrapping it up beneath the pointed tip so he could bring his thumb to the little slit in it, and rub, which made John suddenly suck in a breath and wriggle as if ticklishly.

Grinning impishly, the jaguar looked down at his paws. One was wrapped around a pair of nice firm wolf balls. The other was playing with the slit atop another male's cock, making him twitch and suck in breaths like he was about to say something to protest.

"Heh. Found a sensitive spot."

"Hng...Y-yeah you d-did..."

"Who's stuttering now?"

John laughed despite the oversensitivity, relaxing his dancing butt back down when Jeff was good enough to move his thumb, and then make a slow, experimental stroke that nearly met his paws together.

"It won't break, kitty. Don't tell me you've never whacked it before."

"Uh...Heh. Every day, usually twice."

"Heh only that much? I was a four or five time a day type when I was in my twenties."

"Pff. Geezer."

"Perverted geezer, thankyou very much. Mm..."

He was stroking it in earnest now, running his paw carefully up and down the steely prick and feeling it's warm throbbing as blood rushed through beneath his fingers. It was a fascinating thing, to hold another male's pleasure in the palm of his paw, to see his actions rewarded by a dribble of moisture from its tip and hear a soft hiss of pleasured breath from John's lips. True to the command he'd been given, a quick swipe of his paw over the tip gathered that moisture, and he began spreading it, much like the baby oil he sometimes used on himself while taking his quiet, lonely pleasure.

Jeff knew what he wanted now, in a sudden burst of awkward inspiration. He wanted to see that cock blow it's top, like an over-wrought oil rig. But he also knew, thanks to the throbbing between his own legs, that he wanted to know what the ultimate closeness felt like, and whether that winking pink under the wolf's flapping tail would feel as buttery and wonderful as he'd read, during one of his few furtive trips to the m/m section of his many erotica story websites.

Reluctantly, he released his prize, letting it swat back down to the wolf's belly, and reached for his bed stand. Still not able to meet John's eyes, he fumbled in the top drawer to find what he was looking for.

"Uh...I don't have any condoms...Can I? I m-mean you're clean right?"

"Don't ever trust anyone who answers that question with 'yes,' kitty. But yeah, I am. Never been sick a day in my life. Doc says it's a side effect of my power."

Jeff nodded, swallowing against a dry lump in his throat as he brought the baby oil over and spilled a dollop into his paw. Swiping it down his barbed length was a rote move, something he'd done a million times before. But as the wolf brought his heels to his rump and spread them out to give access, the jaguar found himself overcome with awkwardness again at seeing that exposed tail star waiting for him. A quick glance up showed John was smiling, that sort of half-grin that made it obvious his awkwardness was adorable and hilarious to the older male.

"Don't mock me," the jaguar muttered, while shimmying his knees to get back into position.

"I ain't mockin' you."

"You are. You think I'm some adorable little kid."

"No, I think yer an adorable little adult. So put it in me, already. Use your fingers first, or it won't feel real good for either of us."

He wanted to retort, but knew himself well enough to realize he was getting upset for no reason. So, lashing his long black tail, he gathered more of the baby oil with another squirt from the bottle, capped it and tossed it aside, then brought his paw up under the wolf's balls. It was an odd feeling, to put his fingers near such an private, taboo spot on another male. Like he should pull his paw away and wash it, though he knew the wolf was as clean as could be. When wrinkled, muscular bare flesh touched his fingertips, he startled for a second, then looked down, to see his paw pad pressed up against a twitching pinkness now glistening with smears of lubrication.

"Mm...Yeah, good. Smear it around a little more, okay?"

The jaguar nodded, and did as he was told, feeling oil slither over his fingertips as he smeared it around. He could feel the wolf's pulse through his anal ring, along with a body-warmth he wasn't used to. Jeff didn't realize he'd leaned down in fascination until something warm and soft touched his cheek. Looking up, he realized the wolf had reached out a paw to stop him.

"It's good enough, kitty. Go ahead."

Nodding, he moved again, knee-walking on the bed until his knees were to the wolf's muscular behind once more. Then the lupine began instructing again, in soft, heated, husky tones.

"Okay, I want you to lean down on one arm. Get your cock in your paw, and aim yourself, or you'll just end up pokin' me in the tail a lot an' getting nowhere. When you're touching my hole, just let your weight settle forward slow-like. I'll do the rest, till yer in."

Jeff nodded again, swallowing one more time, as he settled into place just as he was told, with the wolf's raised knees to either side of his chest. His arm held up his weight easily enough, thanks to all the solitary weight-lifting he'd done over so many months of lonely nights in the apartment. His cock felt slick, and harder than he remembered it ever being, and when its tip touched the wrinkled pink beneath John's tail, he sucked in a hard breath as a shock like lightning jolted from its tip up his spine.

Panting softly from anticipation and nerves, he looked down between their bodies, only to see a throbbing red spire of flesh pointed up at him, and the fuzz of John's chest and abdomen rustling softly with the motion of muscles shifting beneath. Then a paw touched his cheek, and turned his face upward, until he was eye to eye with the handsome, smiling lupine.

"Just thrust slow, okay? I'll letcha know when you can go faster."

"I-isn't the guy on top supposed to be in charge?" the jaguar whispered. His answer began with a gentle kiss, tracing smooth black lips together as the wolf tilted his head into it, before breaking free to speak, a little ribbon of saliva connecting them for the barest moment.

"Not necessarily. Now get started, okay?"

"Uh...O-okay."

The first motion felt strange, like he was about to slip, so he dug his toe claws into the bed spread, and let his weight settle forward. The pressure was almost painful, like he was trying to push his cock into something solid and without an opening. Then, all of a sudden, the wolf shifted himself and his passage opened up, and the jaguar sank into the pulsating, volcanic heat to half his length in a single jerky, gasping thrust.

"Nnf!" the wolf grunted, putting his paws to the jag's chest. "H-hold it for a sec...Gotta get used to..."

"Oh g...god..." Jeff whispered, quivering with the effort of not thrusting again, deeper, into the clutching heat that sucked and writhed and clenched down on its fleshy invader. His will wasn't enough, and before John gave him the signal to continue, he bent his knees and pushed forward and down again, drawing a hissed, bitten-off curse out of the wolf, and another gasp and explosion of tingles from himself.

He felt as if a haze had fallen over them. The gasping, the panting, was like some ritual hypnotic chant, the thunder in his ears a beating of drums, the hot, tight, velvety hole rippling around his steely maleness a sacrifice for his pleasure. The big cat growled, low and atavistic, and pulled his hips backward, feeling his barbs pluck on the delicate flesh inside in ways that made them both suck in breath and shiver. Then he thrust again, firmly, burying himself until his hanging balls could feel the fluffy fur at the base of his lover's tail.

"Gnh...Deeper..." John moaned out, as his legs shifted, sliding around the jaguar's waist, locking themselves together at the ankle above his flexing glutes. Another thrust was his answer, a deeper, smoother, harder blow that pushed the wolf a few inches up the sheets, until one of his paws had to go up to keep him from banging into the headboard. The other, helpless, grabbed onto the back of Jeff's neck, and pulled the black-furred super down into another breath-sharing tongue-sucking kiss.

The air stank of wolf and jaguar musk now, and of lubricant and friction, the slightest tinge of sweat, and swiftly strengthening ozone. Jeff-Xolotl pounded himself against his lover harder, as their tongues warred for dominance in the shared humid cave of their muzzles. When his balls mashed against the wolf's tail base, and his cock could get no deeper, the potent creature ground himself against the other male, feeling the muscles clamped around his steely invader fluttering and dancing like butterflies that were the consistency of hot cream.

Against his belly, the hot spire of trapped wolf cock pulsed and spurted, little streams of precum that added to the mélange of scents and flavors surrounding them both. A masculine, primal mingling, two powerful males sharing the most ancient of ecstatic ritual bindings, as they rutted in a room that danced with ribbons of lightning.

"F-fuck!" John pinched out, his voice barely squeaking past the clenched muscles in his throat. With his head thrown back, he let out a little gaspy sound, and struggled to thrust himself downward despite being pinned and helpless, his fist digging into the fur of the black jaguar's nape. Jeff-Xolotl knew his victory was close.

He celebrated it by bringing his muzzle down, clamping it over that exposed throat, teeth digging in just enough to leave his mark. The wolf warrior, for his part, let out a little yelp, and jolted throughout his powerful body. His passage clenched down like a balled fist, rippled like the rolling stormy sea, and as a howl boiled from the rutting creature's throat, the jaguar smelled the musky scent of jetting wolf cum, and felt its violent heat blasting up his chest in a rush, then smacking off his chin with the second shot, to drip down onto the prone creature beneath him.

Bellowing out, Xolotl-Jeff slammed his hips down and forward, and before the wolf had finished his copious ejaculation, felt the lightning surge up from his balls, from his toes where they clenched into and tore at his cotton sheets, to the top of his head where lightning danced and celebrated and arced from his scalp to the walls. His roar shook against the wolf's straining, gasping throat. His cum exploded out of his cock in a searing rush, and blew itself out in sticky surges that filled the other male to overflowing, only to backflow and splatter down the straining jaguar's roiling jolting balls.

Arms went around his neck, and pulled him down as his muscles started shaking and giving way. Still tingling and spurting softly with the tail end of his orgasm, the jaguar spilled downward onto the more muscular wolf, and found himself cradled there, kissed on the forehead and crown, as he panted and wiggled and slowly found himself becoming drowsy and sated. The wolf leaned inward just enough to whisper heatedly against his ear, through panting shortness of breath.

"You're...Hnf...A natural..."

When his phone rang, Jeff instinctively flung out his paw. Lightning blasted from his fingertips, and blew the thing into smoking bits, silencing it's annoying hateful buzzing-ring forever.

Then the two just stared at the blackened spot on his bedside table.

"Well damn," John said, his voice slowly returning to normal, "I guess losing your cherry was helpful after all. I uh...Hope that wasn't important."