Scavengers
"Scavengers" --by Kyell Gold
Written for Kain & Kitten's Yiff Challenge, week 1
(http://www.schultzs.org/~mschultz/kkc/kkchallenge.htm)
_Author note: the Yiff Challenge is an ongoing writing project challenging writers to put together a yiffy story in a short span of time. Originally the time was one week; currently it's three. The moderators of the challenge provide a list of species and genders--not related--and a setting, and the rest is up to the author.
This story was written in one week for the prompt "Rat, Rabbit, Raccoon - M/M/F - Modern setting." I thought about rats and raccoons and where they might live, and the setting of the story took shape around that. I have presented it as it was submitted, with no edits._
The raccoon sat heavily down at the stool and leaned his elbows on the counter. He wore a spiffy blue shirt, but if you looked closely, you'd see the worn cuffs, the one button that didn't match, and the slight fraying at the collar, which was hanging open to reveal a white chest ruff. He curled his tail carefully up onto the stool next to him so it wouldn't drag on the floor, and then dropped a crumpled five on the pink formica. He signaled to the rat fixing coffee as his other paw rubbed at his muzzle. "Coffee, Trace."
"Just a sec, hon," the rat replied, fitting the filter into the machine. She flicked a couple switches, waited to hear the gurgling of water through the ancient spout, and then walked over to him. She wasn't far past thirty, and her fur still had its brown sheen, but it was disheveled and her pink flowered apron was askew. When she talked, the raccoon could see the chip in her left front tooth. It whistled sometimes. "Just brewing. It'll be a minute. Here. You smell like shit." She picked up a napkin with a coffee-stained paw, dabbed it in a glass of water, and rubbed his muzzle.
He closed his eyes as she cleaned him off. "I smell like jizz," he murmured. The reek of it was in his nose, his paws, his fur. That was the worst part, the smell. The act was over in a minute or five, but the smell lingered.
"Least you ain't been beat up."
"Yet."
She rubbed the short fur under his chin and then gave his nose a brief wipe. "There. You about done for the night?"
He looked up with red-rimmed eyes at the clock. "Ten to four. I could probably do one more."
She held the napkin, folding it over in her paw and looking across the counter. "Mikey..."
He gave her a tired smile. "I know. Why don't I get a job?"
"You could work the grill."
"Trace, I won't take your money. You don't have enough work for a chef. You and Eb barely keep this place going. I 'preciate you sendin' for me and givin' me a place to stay, but that's all I can take from you."
"You help anyway."
He grinned. "My family's always been scavengers. I can't go against history."
"What do you think we are?" She waved a paw at the truck stop and grinned. "Just 'cause we stay in one place and people bring us food..."
He shook his head and gave her an old, familiar smile. "Ain't the same. Not like in the old days."
"Maybe it is, Mikey. We just take what rolls in off the highway. We're not out there like these guys are, driving around to get things places. We just sit here and scrape out a living from the bottom of the barrel."
He coughed. "Always someone lower than we are, Trace."
"Well, God help that poor soul, that's all I can say."
The coffee-maker made a sound that once, in happier days, had been a cheerful beep. Now it sounded as if someone had taken that beep out behind the bar, slugged it in the belly a few times, and then kicked it in the nuts for good measure. In the near-empty diner, there was no sound to cover or muffle it. The rat and raccoon, used to it, barely looked over, but the burly rabbit who'd just come in stared at the machine before sitting down.
"That thing okay?" he said. "Sounds like it's on its last legs."
"Got better legs than I got," Tracy replied without looking at him. "You want some coffee?"
"Sure." He parked himself behind a table and stretched, brushing his paws on his red plaid flannel shirt.
She poured two cups and deposited one beside Mike before taking the other to the rabbit. He swiveled an ear, but they kept the conversation low. Didn't matter. Trace would tell him when she came back if the guy was a prospect. He blew on his coffee and sipped. It was hot, bitter, and strong. He loved it.
Trace came back. "Looks good," she said softly.
"Got the Visine?"
"Right here." She put the little bottle on the counter and looked down. "Careful with him, Mikey. He looks rough."
Mike tipped his head back and dripped Visine into both eyes. "S'okay," he whispered to her. "The rough ones tip more."
She looked concerned, so he waved her away. "I can handle him. Come on, he's a rabbit and I'm a carnivore. Grr." He bared his teeth playfully.
Trace rolled her eyes and went back to the grill. Mike heard the clatters of implements and heard and smelled carrots being chopped a moment later. He sipped the rest of his coffee, waiting until the tingling of the Visine had faded, and then left the five on the counter, straightened his shirt, and walked over to the rabbit's booth.
The guy looked up as Mike approached. Mike had never serviced a rabbit, but he'd seen them around, and this guy was an unusual specimen: big and beefy, though his shirt hid exactly how big. Not much of a gut, either, so he probably worked out. He had medium-length ears, not overly long, and his eyes were small but sharp, sizing Mike up as the raccoon put on his charming smile. "Mind if I join you?"
The trucker grunted and motioned to the opposite bench. Mike sat down, making sure to leave his tail hanging outside the booth, in the rabbit's view. "Where you in from?"
"Atlanta." The rabbit took a drink of coffee.
"Long way. You do it all in one night?"
"Yup."
"Wow. Pretty impressive." Flatter the john, always.
The rabbit shrugged. "My job."
He didn't seem interested. Maybe Trace'd been wrong about him. "Lonely out there on the road."
"Comes with the territory." The rabbit sipped his coffee.
Mike saw Trace coming around the counter with the order, and shut up. She dropped the plate of salad in front of the rabbit and asked, "Anything else, hon?" as her eyes flicked to Mike. He responded with a minute shrug.
"No, I'm good." The rabbit looked at her and then pointedly at Mike before turning his attention to his meal.
Tracy gave Mike an encouraging chipped-tooth smile and went back to clearing the counter. He sat patiently while the rabbit devoured his salad, and when the trucker looked up from the empty plate, Mike gave him his best shy-boy-friend smile.
"How much?" the rabbit said.
Down to brass tacks. Obviously he'd been on the road a while and knew the drill. He didn't look or smell like a cop, so Mike said, "For twenty I'll lend you a paw, for fifty I'll blow you away, and for a hundred you can go behind the barn. You go there, though, you wear a raincoat."
The rabbit stifled a burp and pulled out his wallet. He fished out a single bill and set it on the table. "I'll take what's behind door number three," he said.
Mike's eyes took in the wallet and the bill quickly. He grabbed the bill and held it under the table, checking it over, and then stuffed it in his pocket. "All right. Let's go out back." He held his left paw up for Trace, who came over.
"I'm ready to go," the rabbit said, his eyes gleaming. He dropped a ten-spot on the table and got up, and Mike followed suit.
"Sounds good," the raccoon said. "Let's see what you're packing there." He stepped forward and put a paw on the rabbit's crotch.
"Christ!" The rabbit jumped back, almost knocking Tracy over. The two other patrons turned to look at them. "Not in here." Tracy had a knowing grin on her face and gave Mike a quick, encouraging wave.
Mike folded his ears down contritely for the rabbit's benefit. "Sorry." He padded out the front door, keeping his thick tail arched and waving behind him.
The rabbit stayed right behind him as they rounded the corner and slid out of the sodium lights that lit the front of the stop. The night was punctuated with the roar and whoosh of trucks on the freeway, and the chill of night had set into the air. Mike's fur was thick enough to keep him warm, even in the dead of winter, but he figured the rabbit, with his shorter fur, might get cold like Trace and Eb did when the wind howled. So when they reached the small shed out back, the first thing he did was flick on the space heater.
"Nice," the rabbit said, looking around. "I thought I'd be dropping my pants in an alley."
Mike shook his head, closing the door. "Lights on or off?"
"Off."
"Okay." He could see perfectly well either way. He climbed onto the bed, really just some old stacked mattresses in the middle of the shed, and reached for the battered nightstand. It was missing one leg, but he'd made do with a pile of phone books, and now it was as solid as new.
The top drawer held a pile of condoms and several tubes of lubricant. Mike took out one of each and held up the condom. "Mind if I put this on you?"
"Go ahead." The rabbit leaned back, holding his paws over his tail, and grinned down at the raccoon.
Mike unbuckled the large silver buckle, taking a moment to notice the desert landscape engraved on it, and slid down the thick denim and the underwear behind it--clean, he noted thankfully, though the rabbit smell was strong. The buck was half-hard already, and his member jumped when Mike wrapped a paw around it and started stroking. "Yeah..." he panted. Mike gave his paw a few sloppy licks and then slickened the now-hard shaft, giving it a few extra strokes.
A small bead of pre formed at the tip, grew large, and dripped down the head of the shaft to Mike's paw. He looked up and smiled. "You're nice and ready, aren't you?"
"Shit, yeah," the rabbit said as Mike tore the package and opened the condom. "You know it."
"I sure do." Mike unrolled the condom down over the thick shaft. "I can't wait to get that inside me. You're so big."
The rabbit was pretty big, and would stretch him out, but he'd handled bigger. With the condom safely on, he slid his muzzle over the rubber and gave it a few sucks as he undid his pants. He was careful not to go too hard--the rabbit was obviously all worked up, and he'd paid for a full ride. Mike would make sure he got what he paid for, even if it only lasted a couple minutes.
"Oh, God," the rabbit moaned. "If I'd known you could suck like that through a condom..."
"Thanks," Mike said. He squeezed a glop of lube onto his paw and rubbed it under his tail, working it up his tail hole and on the shaved area around it. "You're a good inspiration. I think you'll like this even better."
He brought his paw up and covered the slippery condom with slippery lubricant, giving it a few good strokes and caressing the rabbit's balls with his slick paw for good measure. Then he winked, got up on all fours, and lifted his tail with an enticing arch. "Come on up here and give me a good fuck, lover."
The rabbit made a choked sound and clambered onto the bed. He wasn't much for foreplay; he had one arm around Mike's waist and was in position in a matter of seconds. Mike felt the cool hardness slide into him a moment later, and clenched his fists in the sheets as the big trucker pounded into him. "Oh yeah," he faked a moan, "give it to me hard."
"Uh...uh...uhhhh...." The rabbit had hooked his toes into the mattress and was using his powerful legs to thrust himself into Mike. His thick claws dug into Mike's stomach (under the shirt, fortunately; Mike didn't have many shirts and didn't want to ruin any) as he moaned louder and pressed his hips against the raccoon's. Mike's tail was wedged uncomfortably between them, but he didn't mind; it would be over very soon. Six...five...four...three...two...
He was a second off. With a loud grunt, the rabbit squeezed him and slammed his hips hard against Mike's rear. "Uh!!" he moaned, shuddering, and a few moments later was still.
Mike waited patiently. The rabbit's iron grip wasn't relaxing, but he could wait. A lot of johns liked to stay inside afterwards. He wiggled his hips a bit, but the rabbit wasn't feeling playful, so he stopped. Instead, he thought about Trace and Eb. Eb would be up soon, and he and Trace would have breakfast together before Trace went to sleep. Mike sometimes watched the counter for them for free so they could have private time together. Otherwise they had to close the diner to have time, and before Mike had arrived they had only done that once a week, Trace told him, early on Monday morning when the roads were dead and nobody ever stopped in.
His reverie was interrupted by movement behind and inside him. The rabbit pulled out, and then slid back in. Slowly out, faster in. It took Mike a second to realize that he was starting again.
"Oh," he said, not sure how to say, Excuse me, sir, but do you realize your big cock is still going in and out of my tail hole? "I thought you'd finished. Sorry."
"I did," the rabbit panted. "That was a nice...first one."
Mike's ears prickled. "First?"
"Yeah..." If anything, the shaft felt bigger, thick and hard inside him, sliding past his tail and back out. "You got a nice tight ass."
He didn't, Mike knew, but he clenched it as tight as he could. "You're gonna come again?"
"Oh yeah. I been on the road a while." The rabbit's hips pounded against Mike.
"Okay. Whatever you need, big guy." He could take one more time. He wished he'd used more lube though.
The rabbit's arm loosened a bit. He ran his paw up and down through Mike's stomachfur, slipping into an easy rhythm back and forth that had less urgency that his previous thrusts, but all the firm force. His musk was getting thicker in the air the space heater was warming, mingling with the light smell of burning that the heater always produced. Mike felt the room grow stuffier, but endured patiently. He'd had guys go twice with him before. Rarely, but it happened.
A few minutes of thrusting later, the rabbit's breath grew short again and his arm tightened. Mike's stomach was sore from the blunt claws and his rear was getting sore too, but he clenched his teeth and his rear as the rabbit bucked and grunted behind him, then panted and stopped.
And a couple minutes later, started up again. "Hey," Mike said, not sure how much more he could take, "uh, how many times..."
"This is the last. Probably," the rabbit panted. "You're doin' real good. God, I ain't had a fuck like this in weeks."
Where'd you hide the body of the last one? Mike thought. Criminy, he was earning his hundred. He shifted his weight and stomach so the rabbit's paw was holding him in a different spot. "Can you put s'more lube on?"
"Nah." The rabbit thrust hard into him and stayed in before pulling back out. "This is good."
For you. Bastard. Mike tried to think of something else to take his mind off the pounding his poor sore tail hole was taking. At least the rabbit had shifted his tail to a more comfortable position. He stretched his arms and settled in to wait this one out.
Later, he would rank that third mounting as one of the least pleasurable sexual experiences of his life. He watched a bug crawl halfway up the wall, tracking it by its shadow in the dim light of the space heater, while the rabbit's hot breath made a damp spot in his shirt and the rabbit's hot cock wore a sore spot under his tail, the long hard length pressing in, pulling out, pressing in, pulling out. Mike could've sworn it had been at least an hour when he felt a shiver in the rabbit. Thank God. But the rabbit's arousal built slowly, his moans grew louder incrementally and were more drawn out, and his thrusts remained deliberate even as his body trembled.
Maybe it was fatigue and not arousal causing him to tremble, Mike thought, but despite the soreness and his own fatigue, he was starting to enjoy the rabbit's slow climb towards a third orgasm. Thinking about it took his mind off his backside, which was going to require at least a day or two of rest now, and actually started to get him excited. He felt his erection stiffen as he listened to the rabbit's moans take on a now-familiar note of urgency, and the paw gripped a new area of his stomach fur.
He considered taking the other paw and placing it on his shaft, but a lot of his clients just wanted to top; they weren't interested in a reach-around, even. Too gay. That kind of client closed their eyes and imagined that his tail hole was a nice tight female, or that his muzzle had feminine eyes above it. Mike deliberately washed his musk away every day so he wouldn't smell too masculine.
Right now, though, anyone looking at him and seeing the pink length half out of his sheath would have no doubt he was male. He'd take care of himself later, if he still needed to. He hoped the rabbit's third time would be lucky.
"Uhhhhhhhhhh....oh, Jesus God...oh my God, ohmygod oh yeah..." The rabbit's powerful frame shuddered hard, his arm squeezing the breath out of Mike, and his legs dug into the bed. He thrust in hard and then let out a series of panting, staccato groans, punctuated with a loud, throaty, "AHHhhhhhhh!!"
Then he was still. Mike waited apprehensively for a minute. Slowly, the arm relaxed. The rabbit leaned back, resting both paws on Mike's back. "Shee-it," he said, and slowly, mercifully, pulled his cock out of the raccoon. "That was worth a hundred."
Mike bit his cheek as his sore rear relaxed, finally. "That was amazing," he said. "Three times! You stud. I've never been fucked like that before."
"Damn straight," the rabbit said, and then laughed. "Straight. Haw haw. I done four before. Guess I'm a little tired tonight."
Mike gave a polite laugh and rolled over on his back. His rear felt a bit odd, and he wanted to get the guy out of here as soon as possible. "Condom can go in the trash over here..." His voice trailed off. He could see the rabbit sitting back on his bed, his big member starting to droop, a drop of semen still hanging from the bare tip.
He looked up at the rabbit, who shrugged and got up. "I guess I lost it in there. No biggie."
"No biggie?" Mike wanted to shout at him, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?
"Yeah, I'm clean. I'm not worried I'd get anything from you that way."
"How do I know you're clean?" Raising your voice to a john was a big no-no, but Mike was tired and now he was afraid. "What if you picked up something and don't know it?"
"Hey," the rabbit said warningly as he pulled his pants up, "nobody forced you to live in a truck stop selling your ass. I drive a big rig. I might tip over and splatter my brains on the windshield. We all take risks."
"That's not the point," Mike said. "I told you--"
The rabbit had buckled his pants and reached around behind him. "Fine, I'll give you another--" He stopped and looked at Mike, his small eyes narrowing. "All right, where the fuck is my wallet?"
Mike's heartbeat doubled. "What? How should I know?"
The trucker reached out and cuffed the side of his head, knocking him off the bed. "Where is it, you little shit?!" He kicked Mike in the thigh. "Give it back!"
"I don't have it! When could I have taken it?!" Mike yelled.
"Shut up. Okay." The rabbit paused. "Strip."
"What?"
"You heard me. Take your fucking clothes off or I'll rip them off you right now."
"I--" Mike took a breath. "Okay." He started unbuttoning his shirt.
The trucker waited patiently while he took off his shirt and then stood up and removed his pants. He handed them to the rabbit, who looked him over. Mike's erection was gone by this point, but he still felt embarrassed and vulnerable. Silly to be embarrassed when he'd been mounted three times by this guy, but he couldn't help it. The rabbit's eyes made him feel like a piece of trash.
Finally, the guy waved him to the corner. "Go sit by the heater."
Mike obeyed, but knelt instead of sat in deference to his sore rear, watching as the rabbit went through his clothes. Once, Mike had been robbed, and he'd learned his lesson: after every trick, the money went in his safe box. The only cash in his pants was the hundred the rabbit had given him, which the rabbit took from the pocket and held out in front of him.
"I don't pay thieves," he said as he stuffed it in his own pocket and set to searching the bed. He ripped the covers off and threw the mattress to one side, letting both rest on the dirty floor. When he didn't find anything, he yanked the nightstand's top drawer open, scattering condoms and lubricant over the floor and tipping the old piece of furniture. The second drawer came partly open; he bent down and pulled it all the way out, dumping Mike's handkerchiefs all over the floor. His wallet was not, of course, there.
He glared at Mike. "You stay right there, and don't move. I'll be back, with the cops if I have to." He took an armful of Mike's clothes and walked out of the hut, slamming the door behind him, though the latch didn't catch and the door swung open a couple inches again.
Mike sighed and rubbed his arms. He wasn't cold, not with his fur and the space heater, but he was worried for Trace. She'd be worried about him, and she could have a temper. He hoped she wouldn't do anything stupid. He was fine, really. He'd have a bruise on his muzzle, and he wouldn't be doing a lot of sitting, and he'd have to do laundry, but he'd be okay. He felt his teeth to make sure they weren't chipped, and then walked over to the nightstand.
He picked up one of the tubes of lubricant and squirted some onto his paw, then slid a finger into his tail hole, wincing a bit at the soreness. Fortunately, he could feel the condom, and with a bit of maneuvering, he pulled it out, dripping with the rabbit's jizz. He could feel it trickling down his skin and into his fur, and wiped at it with his paw, feeling another surge of anger at the goddamn trucker. Now he was going to have to get tested again.
Sighing, he picked up one of the handkerchiefs and sat by the heater again, wiping himself as clean as he could. He stopped when he heard voices outside, first the trucker, and then Tracy responding. They must have just walked out of the diner.
"--ain't going to wait around while you make excuses, just call the goddamn cops already."
"Five more minutes of lookin' won't hurt--hey, lookit this."
There was a long pause. Mike padded to the door and strained to hear.
"You knew right where to find that, didn't you?"
"I'm tellin' you, I saw that guy walk in, order coffee, and then leave real quick. He probably took the cash and split. Happens here sometimes if someone sees the wallet before we do."
Some grumbling Mike didn't catch, and then Tracy again. "I think you owe him an apology. Why don't you take the clothes back yourself?"
Mike hurried to sit by the heater again. A moment later the trucker pulled the door open and stood there, looking down at the raccoon. He threw the clothes down. "Hey," he said. "So, uh, looks like I lost my wallet in the diner. Sorry about that. I guess I, uh, owe you this." He let the hundred flutter down to rest on top of the pile of clothes.
Mike watched it fall. "Thanks," he said.
The rabbit waited a minute longer, then cleared his throat. "I gotta get back on the road. I'll see ya."
Not fucking likely, Mike thought. He nodded curtly, and the rabbit closed the door.
The clothes were dirty too, but Mike pulled them on anyway. He pocketed the hundred and trudged back inside.
Tracy was waiting behind the counter. There was one guy sitting at a booth, but the diner was otherwise empty. Mike waved to Tracy and went to the bathroom to drop the hundred in his safe box before he came back out to stand by the counter.
"Not going to have a seat? Was he that big?" Tracy said. "Or did he kick you there?"
"Both," Mike said. "I don't even wanna talk about it. Remind me to charge rabbits double."
"Did he hurt you?"
"Nah, I'm fine."
She shook her head and sighed. "Mike..."
He managed a smile. "Family history, Trace." She rolled her eyes at him. "So how much did he have?" he asked, lowering his voice.
She grinned. "Eight hundred fifty and change."
He whistled. "Good lift, too. I didn't see it and he didn't feel it."
"Ah, you made it easy. Just like in the old days." She took a pair of water glasses out from under the counter. Each had about an inch of amber liquid in it. "I thought we could finally afford to get Eb another bottle of scotch, so we might as well finish off this one."
Mike grinned and lifted his glass. "Sounds good to me. Cheers. One scavenger to another."
Tracy clinked her glass to his. "To the fella worse off than us."
"God help him," Mike said, and drank.