Night of the Fox
A/N: If you have comments/criticism, drop me a line at [email protected] with the subject YIFFSTAR.
The voices in the Zeller's Megamart wove a comfortable fabric around Dodge Carson and his girlfriend Cheyenne, the rattle of the shopping cart's wheels another kind of soothing chatter as the empty cart gradually filled. Still young in their relationship, Dodge and Cheyenne hadn't yet passed the phase of sneaking admiring glances at one another, and both were so extraordinarily attractive that Awakened and humans alike couldn't help following suit. The human woman closing up the Deli counter for the night as they passed was no exception, though Dodge couldn't decide whether he was more flattered or outraged that the slight brunette seemed to be more taken with his girl than with him. The cost of being with a mare, he supposed, but at least it wasn't as pronounced as it had been with his last girl, a neko name Saiko who had eventually lived up to her name a little too well.
But no one had ever really "gotten" a pairing between a wolf and a neko, he mused as he ran a well manicured claw down his square, grey-furred jaw. Even eighty years after the Awakening, many humans still clung to their eons-long-embedded prejudices when it came to other species, and the Awakened seemed to have no exemption from them. Cats and dogs, humans maintained, just did not make good couples. Never mind that wolves weren't the same animal, so to speak -- close enough. Dodge liked humans well enough, worked with them, drank with them after work, had even known a few to strip down under a full moon and get properly civilized -- but he held no illusions about them. Humans were creatures of strong opinions strongly held to. He turned golden eyes on Cheyenne as she happily plucked a half dozen large Quaker Oats boxes from the shelf in front of them, admiring the long, hard nails that extended from the second joint of each of her slim fingers.
She turned to smile at him, her large brown eyes twinkling, and brushed back her golden mane with the other hand as she dropped the boxes into the cart. "Breakfast of champions."
"I'll try it sometime, sweetheart," he promised. "But I still think a good hearty plate of steak and eggs can't be beat."
"Well, you don't know what you're missing." She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "All right, let's go get your steak and eggs, then, you big carnivore, you."
As the cart chattered off toward the Meat & Dairy section, bright emerald eyes watched and a lip curled in a quiet smirk.
Dodge watched himself and Cheyenne as they passed a full length mirror during a quick detour through the cosmetics aisle. Wolves weren't normally given to much reflection upon their reflections, but Dodge was a resistant exception. He fought narcissism as best he could, but frankly, he was a hell of a fine specimen to his own eye.
A towering 6'8" and weighing in at better than 240 pounds and in decent shape, he presented an imposing figure in his work boots, faded jeans, white t-shirt and motorcycle jacket. Beside him, Cheyenne's 6'2" and 180 pounds was curves in all the right places; being equine, most of the right places were a simply astonishing ass and legs that wouldn't quit, from her sweetly sculpted ankles up to rock solidly muscled calves, up past powerfully muscled thighs with a slight outer sweep, hips showing the faintly visible crease of muscle and ohhhh, that lovely ass again... round, firm and delicious under a black miniskirt that contrasted wonderfully with a blood red blouse that only enhanced the silhouette of the not oversized but delightfully perky breasts within.
Her tawny cream fur, large brown eyes and blonde mane contrasted well with his dark charcoal fur, black hair and golden eyes. Despite the unusual pairing, no one who saw them together could deny that they made a striking couple.
He caught a glimpse of red from the corner of his eye. He paused a moment, but her long fingers squeezed tight around his hand, pressing into the rough pads of his palm and pulling him forward. "Come on, big man, no lagging."
He gave a half-growl, half-chuckle and followed. "But we're so pretty." he remarked.
"Yes, we are. Now let's go home."
The flood-lit expanse of parking lot stretched before them as headlights from one of the few remaining patrons swept over them, then disappeared onto the street and faded. A light late-summer breeze whispered over them. A human would've gotten gooseflesh, but it was a balm to Dodge and Cheyenne. Enclosed markets were a convenience to humans, and Dodge could see how keeping some of their foods refrigerated or frozen was nice, but living and working all penned up was a peculiarity he'd probably never completely get used to.
He drew in a large, greedy lungful of air, savoring its taste, when he noticed something. He rumbled low in his chest. Cheyenne cast him a curious glance, but he only smiled -- remembering, after long practice, that a smile from a Wolf was best executed with closed lips, lest it be mistaken for something less friendly.
But he wasn't feeling terribly friendly at the moment. What he tasted on the air was aggression -- from where he wasn't exactly certain, but his instincts were starting to form a picture, and it was one that disagreed with him powerfully.
They reached Dodge's late model Caesar Imperium and had just finished loading the groceries into the back when a soft footfall brought Dodge's focus back from his brooding. He turned and saw that barely-glimpsed red fur again.
A fox. Beyond the fact that he was laughably short at only 5'8", not much remarkable about him, really. Well... other than the fact that he'd managed to get this close to them. Dodge wasn't happy about that, not even a little. Yet... so young in the world were the Awakened and still so very much at the whim of the humans who still controlled nearly everything that his second, stronger instinct, after the one to answer such impudence by ripping the pup limb from limb, was that the Awakened stick together.
"Something we can do for you?" he asked the fox, whose green eyes glittered under the white flood light.
"Maybe." the fox answered.
Cheyenne turned to look at the new voice. "Dodge? Who's this?"
The fox laughed. "Oh, I'm nobody special." He took a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his leather jacket, shook one out and lit it.
Dodge's patience, never the most abundant resource at his disposal, was already wearing thin and one of his few ideological positions was that Awakened should indulge in the vices of humans; especially not one so utterly filthy as smoking. "What do you want?" he demanded.
The fox gave him an appraising look, then nodded. "Your money. All of it." The wind picked up, brushing his short-cropped red hair across his forehead and flaring the cherry of the cigarette that now rested between his lips as he hooked his thumbs through his belt.
Dodge tried to gauge his size, but he seemed almost to be softly dancing with excitement, shifting from one foot to the other. "You're joking." Dodge concluded. "Problem is, son, I don't think it's very funny."
"That's because you don't haven't heard the punch line yet." the fox answered smartly, then blew a perfectly formed ring of rancid smelling cigarette smoke.
"Oh?" Dodge countered, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "And what's that?"
The fox cocked his head to one side, his eyes glittering as his face blossomed in a broad grin. With teeth. "It's just this, Pop. First I'm gonna take all your cash. Then I'm gonna show your girl a good time. Maybe take her to dinner and a movie first." he flicked the end of the cigarette, watching a shower of sparks cascade from it before looking back up at Cheyenne, making eye contact. "Maybe not, though. Maybe we'll just keep it real traditional. Pure, you know? Right here in the parking lot. What do you think, baby?"
Cheyenne's eyes were wide as saucers, her lower lip trembling. Dodge didn't see this; he was seeing red.
"I think you're out of your fucking mind, little man!" With a roar, he shoved his foot hard against the pavement, lunging for the fox, hands reaching, fingers outstretched to take him by the throat and shake him like a rat --
He never saw the punch coming. He heard it, though. An instant only, a sound like a low whistle before lightning struck behind his eyes and the world tilted rapidly on its axis. He sat up, a hand moving instinctively to his nose. He took his hand away and saw slick dark blood had oiled the pads.
"And I think you're not exactly an expert at thinkin'." the fox replied with a smirk.
Dodge snarled.
The fox sighed, his tone turning sardonic. "You and 'learning' just don't go together, do ya, big fella?" he shrugged out of his own jacket, dropping it to the pavement behind him, and Cheyenne gasped audibly. Short he might have been, but he was solid as a rock, with broad, hard pectoral muscles, a six pack like rounded bricks under the gleaming white fur that formed a rough 'V' down the center of his torso. She could even discern well defined obliques under the red fur on his ribs.
But it was his arms and shoulders that froze her attention for a moment, his deltoids broad and indented at the caps, each bicep showing a thick vein, triceps deep and bulging. The thick ridges of his trapezius muscles flexed as he laughed, his sharp ears twitching as he kept them open to the sounds of possible good Samaritans who might interfere with the scene playing out here in the playground he made of the night.
He caught her staring and winked. She shrank back against the cool aluminum flank of the Imperium even as she felt something so utterly unexpected she could never have foreseen it: she was wet.
The fox turned his attention back toward Dodge as the bigger man took his feet. "Now why don't you save yourself some bumps and bruises, Pops, and hand over the cash?"
Dodge stared incredulously at the fox. "I've got a better idea, little man." He raised his big hands, arching his fingers and damning himself for trimming his claws down to nothing to blend in with humans and their soft, weak world. What he wouldn't have given for the teeth of his Unawakened cousins now; he wanted nothing more than to pay this young pup for his insolence with an opened throat... but there were the humans to deal with, and their Awakened Laws...
"Oh, we can go ten rounds, Pops, if that's the way you want it." the fox shrugged. "Just thought I'd save you some humiliation."
Dodge began to circle him, "Stop talking--" he feinted with a quick left hook. The fox ducked it easily. "--and bleed!" Dodge's high round right cross sailed in and connected with a solid, satisfying crack that drove the fox back into the car behind him with a sharp thud hard enough to spider the glass in the driver's side windshield.
The fox shook his head to clear it, and that was all the opportunity Dodge needed to drive an uppercut into the other male's solid abs, lifting him off his boots and into the windshield again, his compact but heavy form shattering the already cracked glass.
Dodge drew back his hammerhead wide fist for a finishing blow, certain he had the fight in the bag now. "I'm gonna teach you how the world works, you little fucker!" he growled, white teeth bared, golden eyes narrowed and gleaming in the reflected light from the overhead flood. But that pause was too much window; the fox seized it for all it was worth.
Dodge's fist whistled toward the fox's face -- at the last possible instant, the smaller man slipped aside, his own arm coming up to slam into Dodge's forearm, jamming it up into the jagged glass in the window frame at the wrist, the forward momentum of Dodge's arm tearing the shards through fur and skin, pushing back the sleeve of his leather jacket almost to his elbow.
Dodge tilted his head back and howled, a high, piercing sound that was cut short when the fox stepped forward, turning his hip to power his fist into Dodge's Adam's apple. The big wolf staggered backward, gagging and coughing as his uninjured left hand hovered between the open, blood-slicked gash on his right forearm and his bruised throat.
The fox stepped in to press his advantage now, driving a hard right at Dodge's already bloodied nose. His bright green eyes widened in surprise when Dodge made a desperate, lucky catch, his big, powerful fingers closing around the fox's fist with a loud slap! Dodge snarled, stepped in and brought his injured forearm straight down across the fox's forehead, driving him to his knees with a shocked "Oof!"
Had his wits not been blurred by pain, Dodge would have aimed the heavy boot he drew up and back for the fox's jaw to put an end to it right there; but his wits were blurred, and instead he drove his heel into the fox's chest, knocking the wind out of him and knocking him spread-eagle on his back from between the two vehicles.
Even with the wind knocked out of him as his own faculties a little jarred by the impact, the fox's reflexes were just quick enough to catch the motion of Dodge's boot rising again for a second, better target. Coiling his own knee back to his muscular chest, the fox shot his own boot up and into Dodge's upraised inner thigh just a few centimeters off of his target: the bigger man's family jewels.
While it didn't have quite the effect the fox was looking for, it was enough to forestall Dodge's own strike and unbalance him, knocking him just enough off-axis that when the fox's second lightning-fast kick caught Dodge's supporting leg it brought him down to the pavement.
Cheyenne watched all this with wide, shocked eyes -- she had thought Dodge a giant among even his own kind, a tank of a man against whom nobody could stand even if they dared to try, and few were foolhardy enough to take that dare. But here was this cocky little fireplug of a fox not only not being utterly annihilated... not just holding his own... but giving as good as he was getting or better! Her lower lip trembled not just at the sight of these two obviously equally powerful contenders battling but at the deep-seated instincts the sight boiled nearly to the surface. She was aroused, madly and helplessly turned on, and it dismayed and confused her even while she stood naked and helpless in the face of the fact.
Dodge rolled to reach his knees, shooting a foot over the fox and slamming a quick jab into the other man's jaw, grinning at the solid smack! as the back of his rival's head struck the smooth pavement. Before he could securely straddle the fox for a thoroughly one-sided beating, however, the fox snap-rotated his hips, breaking what anchor Dodge had on him, and slammed a sharp knee up into his original target.
Dodge curled instinctively, howled again, then the fox's hard left connected with his jaw, slamming his sharp teeth shut on the tip of his tongue before a second, harder left hook caught him just under the eye, dislodging him completely, sending him reeling to his side and tasting the salty copper tang of his own blood. The fox was merciless now, hammering lefts and rights into Dodge's ribs, his diaphragm, his gut, until he lay semi-fetal and paralyzed under the onslaught.
"Stop it!" Cheyenne screamed. "Stop it!"
The fox relented only long enough to snarl up at her, "No can do, baby!" He slipped over and then behind Dodge, locking a thickly ridged forearm across the bigger man's throat, grasping that elbow in his other hand with a grip of steel and tightening, the cords of muscle in forearm and the bulge of biceps springing into stark relief beneath his darkly matted red fur. He growled into Dodge's pain-flattened ear, "You say somethin' about learning how the world works, Pops? Huh?"
Dodge gasped out, "Cheyenne! Call... the cops!" He clenched his eyes shut not only against the pain but against having to see the look on her face at such a shameful admission that he needed help. Still, he heard her reach into her purse, spilling odds and ends from it onto the pavement in her frantic fumbling for her phone, her frantic dialing, the rising pitch of her unanswered hellos.
The fox looked up at her with an unpleasant grin. "You're not gonna get too far with that, baby -- see, with the money from my last, uh... friend... I bought a neat little gadget that jams cell phones. Kinda handy, don't you think?"
He turned his attention back to Dodge. "Night, Pops." With that, he tightened his grip further still. Dodge's eyes flew open again, bulging, his bleeding tongue protruding from his lips as his big body thrashed ineffectually in the rapidly tightening headlock. He twitched violently for a few seconds, then went limp.
The fox unwound his arms from Dodge's neck, the wolf's big head slumping to the parking lot. "Ah, now there's a good boy." the fox sneered, then wiped his bloody lip on his forearm before turning to stare at Cheyenne. "You're not gonna make a fuss now, are you, baby? I'd hate to have to take away any of that pretty on account of a stubborn streak."
She shook her head mutely, trembling.
"Good girl. You stand right there and keep quiet as a church mouse, and Daddy will get to you in just a shake." He slipped the end of his belt free of his jeans, unbuckled it and began to slide it free. Cheyenne whimpered, just a faint sound. He looked up sharply, "Ah -- " he pointed at her, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.
Sliding his belt fully free of his jeans, he reached down with both hands, hauling the insensate Dodge over to a thick concrete parking barrier pole, the other man's heels skidding along, unresisting. Moving around to the back of the barrier, the fox pulled Dodge's arms up and around to his side, standing on tiptoes to wrap his belt around them once high over Dodge's head, twice, three times, then buckling the belt and slipping a small but sturdy padlock through the buckle and locking it closed with a soft click.
He stepped back around the barrier, nursing his jaw, then looking up at the semi-suspended Dodge. Still nothing. he reaches out with the index and middle fingers of his right hand to check the man's pulse -- spotting the twitch of eyes beneath closed lids and snapping his hand back out of reach barely in time to avoid losing those fingers as Dodge's jaws flashed and snapped shut millimeters from them.
The fox chuckled admiringly. "Gotta say, Pops," he admitted, taking a step back. "what you lack for fightin', you sure make up for in showmanship." he turned toward Cheyenne, who still stood with her back against Dodge's car, took a decisive step toward her. "But now it's my turn to put on a show for you, how 'bout that."
"Please," Cheyenne whispered, flattening against the black aluminum behind the sweet, shapely ass the fox could now see in his mind's eye, "Please don't..."
He took another step forward, reaching out to trace his fingertips down her jawline, down her neck, letting the backs of his fingernails skim lightly, tenderly over her skin. Her eyes closed in reflex to the stimulation, helpless, unable to resist the reaction before it was too late and he'd seen it, heard the soft inhalation.
"Hush now, baby. You do what I tell you, you're gonna be just fine..." his fingers continued to trail downward, sweeping over the firm, round swell of her breast, tapping subtly as they passed her already stiffening nipple, causing a full-body tremor to wash over her, her inner thighs flexing against a shameful but nevertheless growing ache. He stepped in closer, and somehow her height advantage was imperceptible and then meaningless as she felt the overpowering maleness of him surrounding and enfolding her.
He looked up at her; he could feel her resistance cracking and fading like an old coat of paint under the summer sun, falling away as he slowly took control. He had done this before, it was as old as his instincts. He would first master her will, shut down her mind under the flood of her own desires.
"You want this." his voice was low, but the tone conversational. It wasn't a question; not a demand. It was like the statement of an old friend talking about the weather. His fingers opened to cup her breast in his hand; he could feel that nipple hardening further still under his touch; her breast filled his hand perfectly. Her breathing began to deepen.
"No..." she almost whined. But how much of her resistance was against him, and how much against herself, against an undiscovered need that he had somehow unearthed?
"Take your hands off her, you filthy fuck!" Dodge had found his voice. Cheyenne and the fox turned to look at him simultaneously, so deep had the fox already drawn her into his influence.
The fox turned his eyes back to hers, their emerald fire intense, almost hypnotic. "Give me your panties, baby." he ordered. She shook her head, but feebly and after a second. "Would you rather I take 'em off of you myself?" he pressed. She gulped back a sob and then her nerveless fingers were working something down through the fabric of her short skirt. After a few seconds of this, a strip of black mesh fabric appeared between her thighs. After a second more, she was rolling the waistband of a pair of semi-sheer black thong panties over the hard muscles of her quadriceps. Finally, she stepped out of them entirely and he took them from her with a warm smile.
He held them up to the light for a moment, whistling low in admiration. "You've got good taste, sweetheart." he mused aloud, then added, "I'm gonna find out just how good you taste, too."
She felt her cheeks burn hot at that promise, then bit her lower lip as he turned toward Dodge and she caught a glimpse at the bulge in his jeans -- it was enormous, and she felt tears of shame well in her eyes as her mind wandered to a quick flash of imagining what he would look like released from the confines of the denim.
The fox swaggered over to where Dodge now struggled in futility against the sturdy leather binding him defenseless to the parking barrier. "Open." he ordered.
"Fuck you." Dodge spat back through clenched jaws.
The fox shrugged and held up Cheyenne's thong. "This is goin' in your mouth, Pops. Now you can either open up and I put it in there, or I can ram it in there through a mouth full of busted teeth. You choose, but you wanna choose before I choose for you." They locked eyes in a war of staring gold and green, but when the fox drew back a fistful of fabric, Dodge opened his mouth.
"Good call, Pops." the fox grinned, and stuffed the wad in, ripping his arm back as those jaws snapped shut. "Ah ah ah!" he wagged a scolding finger. "I like a guy with spirit, but you're not in a spot where you want to piss me off right now. Get me?"
Dodge nodded reluctantly. The fox turned his attention back to Cheyenne, approaching slowly, his expression teasing. "Now, sweetheart... where were we?" He kept her eyes pinned with his own, one corner of his mouth upturned in a sly half-grin. "Oh, yeah, I remember..."
But the mood he'd established had been broken. Her eyes half-lidded, she waited... let him get close... wrapped her arms around his neck...
And pulled his face forward. Four inches height difference wasn't much, but she was all legs and ass, and that put her cleavage at just the right height to draw his mouth and nose into. He stood still for just a moment, taken by surprise, and then he tried to pull away -- but it wasn't quite enough. Muscular as he was, her height advantage and build put her own weight on par with his, and with her longer limbs, she had the advantage of leverage as well as surprise.
She pushed off with her powerful thighs and calves, driving herself -- and him along with her -- back up onto the trunk deck of the car. She was dismayed but unsurprised to hear the seam of her short black skirt tear along the seams as she forced her thighs wide open to wrap them around the fox's sides, taking his lower ribs in an excruciating bodyscissor.
He began to struggle hard, squirming as her ankles locked behind him, then roaring into the muffling embrace of her cleavage as she straightened her thighs and powered down on the squeeze. But he could also feel something warm and slick seeping through the fur of his belly and tickling his skin.
He was desperate... he could feel that her grip wasn't quite locked in yet, but if she got a better lock with her ankles and really powered in on him, she'd bust his ribs into kindling. No way was he going to let her get that lock, but the combination of insane pressure forcing the air out of his lungs and the suffocating prison of her breasts keeping that air out was sending a hum of oxygen deprivation into his brain, a hurricane of tiny lightning bolts cascading behind his eyes.
The pressure eased for an instant -- only a millisecond -- but it was all the opportunity he needed. He let his knees buckle, breaking her attempt to re-secure her grip and forcing her to shift her wait to try to catch him again. Then he drove his legs out straight again at the same instant he pulled his arms down and free of hers, sending her falling to her back on the deck of the Imperium's trunk. Without a moment's hesitation, he leapt atop her, a thick pop sounding as the metal bent under their suddenly combined weight.
His solid forearm came down across her throat, his knees digging into her inner thighs. His eyes bored down into hers with the intensity of drills as he caught his breath. "You do not want to try that again." he assured her in a low, dangerous tone.
Tears broke free of her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks.
"You know what happens if you try that again?" he growled.
She sobbed, "You -- you'll kill me?"
"No, baby." he shook his head solemnly, then indicated Dodge with a flick of his neck. "I'll kill him." He fixed her eyes under his again. "Do you understand me?"
"Yes." she choked out.
"Good." he reached down with his free hand, gathering a handful of her skirt in his fingers, then ripping it away. She sobbed again, but only once. He reached up to the neckline of her crimson silk blouse, hooking his fingers in behind the black pearlescent top button and popping it off with a quick, savage pull -- repeating the movement again and again until the smooth black satin lace of her brassiere lay inviting under his eyes. He actually surprised her with the delicate touch he used, his fingers quickly and nimbly working the clasp open instead of desecrating the garment.
He pulled the blouse down from her shoulders, using it to bind her upper arms to her sides in the strong silk.
"Now," he told her as quietly and confidently as if he were reading a weather report, "I'm going to fuck you." He leaned down, freeing his cock from his jeans. She had guessed right; her eyes followed the movement of his hand. She blinked, dumbstruck at the sight of such a magnificent tool on such a small man. Once, as a little girl, she'd inadvertently walked in on her father as he'd stepped from her parents bathroom into the bedroom. The ten and a half inches with its two inch girl she'd seen then had been the yardstick -- she almost giggled as her mind swept over this pun in her thoughts -- of every man she'd seen since. But this man -- everything about him so wild, so unexpected and brutal and undeniably intoxicating -- exceeded that easily, his 13 rock hard inches decorated in thick veins that stood out boldly from the tanned 3 inches of girth that was now aimed directly for her defiantly slick, hot pussy.
The ache returned and she licked her lips, wanting to taste him, to feel herself devour that monstrous meat and milk it dry, and she didn't care which pair of lips it passed as long as he was in her. She could hear Dodge a mere few feet away bucking against the parking barrier, but as the fox probed at her lips, both their breathing becoming deeper, quicker, she was astonished, mortified and thrilled to discover that she frankly did not give a shit about Dodge just now.
Without warning, the probing stopped with a long, slow but savage thrust, and he was inside her. She cried out against the flare of pleasure and pain as he rapidly stretched her inner walls, virtually impaling her on that long, thick, steel hard cock. He sighed as he felt her envelop him from his sensitive head all the way down to the hilt, felt the slickness of her arousal dampen his balls as he pulled back to really let her have it.
He drove in again, harder this time, his cock warmed and slicked by her. She gasped and contracted around him, and he pulled back again, taking his forearm from her throat to plant both hands flat on the deck of the wide, flat trunk, lifting his hips to rest on his knees for better leverage as he drove in again.
Her eyes rolled back in her head and closed as she acclimated to his thick shaft, feeling her cunt begin to tingle as warmth suffused her entire body, flooding out from the core of her to her fingers and toes. He reached up, maintaining his leveraged position with just one hand as he slid the fingers of the other up the back of her neck, into the hair at the base of her skull just at the scalp, fingers outstretched... then closed them in her hair -- not pulling, only holding her head firmly in place as he fucked her with hard but slow and measured strokes.
Her own hand rose -- not to attack him but to caress her own hard, sensitive nipple, taking it slowly, tentatively between thumb and forefinger, rolling and then pinching the hypersensitized flesh until the first low moan of ecstasy escaped her lips.
The tightness on her scalp, her cry of pleasure, ignited them both. He increased his tempo and force, gradually at first, then rapidly, slamming in and out of her like a piston in an engine, their captive audience suddenly no longer a distraction or a source of shame and guilt to her but an aphrodisiac, a guilty thrill.
Her hips bucked powerfully; he fucked her savagely now, but she was fucking him right back. His fingers released their hold in her hand, slipped to his bright, wet pink tongue and then to her other nipple, tapping it and letting the cold night air wash over it, propelling her faster toward climax, then giving it a firm roll and a firmer squeeze himself. His reward was a fierce squeeze as her inner walls contracted around his pumping meat, a scream of raw carnal joy as she bathed his cock in her cum, her hips bucking, then simply vibrating in the grip of climax.
But he wasn't done, he wasn't quite ready yet himself. His hand slipped lower still, took a firm grip of her hard muscled ass cheek and squeezed, then reached under to the other, bracing her hips as he supporting them both on one powerful, bulging arm beneath them both, slamming into her as his own climax approached.
Her climax turned into a second, then a third, each more powerful than the last as she came so hard and so freely that it pooled between them and rolled down to form a thick stream on the metal beneath their heaving, slamming bodies.
At last, he felt his stomach tighten and his balls knot in a seed of throbbing electric sensation. He realized dimly that her thighs had come up around his tender lower ribs again some time ago -- he no longer cared about the danger. There was no room for thought, no longer any room for anything but the uncomplicated relationship of stimulus and response. Besides, if she intended to kill him now, at this second he honestly didn't give a rat's ass. This was worth it!
Further thought was washed away as his flesh was swallowed in waves of sensation -- his balls coiled, then exploded in hard, hot jets, and she was screaming her bliss to the sky and all God's creation, and he was howling his, and it was victory and defeat and surrender all in one, but mostly it was just...
...over as he lay spent atop her for a few seconds, panting, a look of joy and disbelief on his face. She lay there, completely spent, a similar look on hers. For a moment, a flash of worry and doubt -- what if she tried to crush him again? She didn't. He pulled out of her with a thick, wet pop! She didn't resist. He stepped back, stuffing himself wet and used as he was back into his jeans. Still no resistance. He stepped forward again, quickly leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Good girl."
And then he was gone.
She sobbed again... but this time, even she had no idea why.
SIX MONTHS LATER
"Dodge?" Cheyenne leaned out of the bedroom doorway. She had cut her hair from its long, wild mane down to something short and stylish. She had put on weight -- mostly muscle, and all in her hips, ass and thighs. Dodge, initially less than thrilled with his girl being so athletic, hadn't said a word. Mostly what he did now was sit on the couch, watching reality television shows. COPS was a favorite.
He looked up. "Yeah?"
She stifled a sigh -- it almost wasn't worth it to even try anymore, but... "Come to bed, sweetheart." Without a word, he lifted the remote and switched off the television, then pushed himself to his feet and followed her.
She took his hand as he entered the bedroom, shutting the door behind him and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him into a fiery kiss. He returned it with all the energy he could muster. Things had undergone a change between them in the six months since the... incident in the parking lot of Zeller's. Before that, he'd always taken the lead in their lovemaking. He'd always been the one In Charge.
Something had changed...
And lately, it had been getting worse. Cheyenne's appetite had always been healthy, but it had grown insatiable, sometimes even brutal, and the change wasn't slowing. If anything, it was only accelerating. She spun him away from the door, reached down to wrap her arms around his waist and lifted him from the floor.
"Cheyenne, what the hell are you doing?!" he demanded, shocked. He'd known she'd been going to a gym -- she had claimed it was to get stronger and take self defense classes in case...
"Shush." she ordered, walking them both toward the bed and heaving him to land clumsily on his back, then taking a long step forward to straddle his hips. "I think I've let you have your illusion long enough."
"What illusion?" he demanded, trying to sit up.
She wrapped her fingers around his wrists in a grip so painfully tight it made him wince, and pinned them to the pillow on either side of his head. "The illusion that you're still in charge, dear." She leaned forward slightly, adjusting her legs so that her inner thighs rested against his sides, then flexed them suddenly, brutally hard, jolting the air from him in a surprised grunt. "I'm going to let go of one of your hands now. If you do anything to try to get away or resist me -- " she tightened her grip on his sides further still, hard enough to bend the big man's ribs and make his eyes water -- "I want you to know that I can and will hurt you, bad."
She released his left hand, reaching down to massage his cock through his jeans until it firmed, then released it to take his bared cock into her hand, her fingers squeezing, massaging, kneading until it had reached its full 10 inches, filling her fingers with his two and a half inch thickness. She sighed, her mind wandering back to the fox... so much better... so much more filling... so much for satisfaction. Well, she'd take what Dodge had to give.
For now.
She lowered her face to his, ignored the stunned or perhaps terrified look in his eyes, and covered his lips with her own, her long tongue forcing his lips open to slither and snake around his, not so much kissing him as simply brutalizing his mouth for her own pleasure. Her fingers strayed to her breast again, gliding lightly over her own skin as her mind played back a memory that had been seared there, her low, lusty moan of pleasure remembered echoing in Dodge's ears as her hot, wet cunt slipped over the head of his cock, the flex of her inner thighs as she moved driving home the truth of what she had said. The nature of their relationship had changed forever.
She had seen him beaten, seen his weakness, and now she was in control. These past six months building her naturally powerful equine legs had turned them into weapons, and she instinctively knew just how to use them to trap him, control him -- if she so desired, even to hurt him, break him or end him.
She lowered herself onto him, taking him in quickly, her cunt devouring him to the hilt in one swift, sure stroke. "Aaaaaahhhhhh!" she breathed, then looked down her nose imperiously at him as she began to ride him hard.
It wasn't enough for her. It never was, lately, hadn't been for months. She leaned forward again, her breasts bouncing with the power of her movements. Between the angle and the crush of her cunt around him, it was no pleasure for Dodge. In fact, it was rapidly approaching painful. She could see that on his face -- he saw by the cruel smile forming on her lips that she could. It only spurred her to ride him harder, her thighs flexing into him painfully in rhythm with the brutal fucking that would have quickly and easily become rape if he'd been stupid enough to try to resist or escape.
No, things hadn't been the same for Dodge and Cheyenne since the Night of the Fox.
And they never would be, ever again.