Folie au Deux (M/M) (pt. 4 of "Under The Devil's Eye")
#4 of Under the Devil's Eye
Folie au Deux
Part 4 of 'Under The Devil's Eye',
by H. A. Kirsch (HawkWolf)
Copyright 2006.
--
Part 1 - Fetish
When Hawk discovered Black and Silver Leather, he was a kid in a candy shop. Afterwards, whenever he'd go through his rapidly growing collection of leather, he felt like a kid late at night on Halloween. The thrill of a catch slightly dulled by sugary saturation.
Three pairs of boots - custom western riding, knee-high engineers, show-off firewalker cowboys.
Black leather patrol gloves, german motorcycle gauntlets, studded fingerless gloves from when he got his bike.
Leather bar vest.
Motorcycle chaps, modified to fit down under a pair of boots.
Leather codpiece riding pants, designed to flaunt everything.
Chest harness with spiked medieval shoulder epaulets.
Custom-fit classic motorcycle jacket.
Black leather trench coat.
Black leather suit coat, custom tailored, graduation present.
Arm bracers, one pair studded and half length, another pair full-length and tooled with blackened steel inlays.
In the right combination, Hawk's gear cost as much as his motorcycle. He never really gave it much thought, how he managed to afford it. His figure was more gaunt than incessantly muscular, thanks to a meager diet and hours spent exercising in his basement out of boredom. The money slowly trickled to a gigantic mass he didn't know what to do with. He never vacationed much. Once the seed was planted, he began to accumulate leather. After a couple weeks, he realized there was little to do with it. There was the fox...
Oh, there was the fox. Once he discovered that The Fox worked for the same company he did, their relationship became a little sparse. There was the time in the basement... but it was slightly uncomfortable. Hawk needed more, and there was only one place to find a like-minded soul that he knew of. The Pit.
Hawk stood around in his basement, naked, summer coat damp with sweat. He brushed it down, but didn't take a shower. Bet they'll like that, he thought. His ears were flushed with blood from the evening's workout, a pang of lust starting to twist into knots inside his chest. He put back a bottle of water, shaking off his hand from the spillover. He looked over to the trunk next to his old oak wardrobe. He walked over, heaving the lid open. It had a drawer tray that lifted out on metal arms; he pulled it free, peering into the abyss of leather.
The top drawer held his gloves and bracers, along with a metal cockring and a heinously studded dildo The Fox had left behind. The rest of the trunk held only the chest harness. He dreamed of the day when it would be packed with toys. He took the harness out, along with his patrol gloves and the tooled bracers, set them on his futon.
The old wardrobe was much more full. He kept it for the sheer gothic design, ornate and dark, burnished by years of age and care. The doors were mirrored on the inside, casting spare light onto the blackness inside. Once he'd started collecting leather, anything he had came down into this one place.
He took out his codpiece pants, manhood responding by dropping from its paltry sheath in two heartbeats. The black length swung, blood rushing to Hawk's ears again. The pants went on the bed, next to the harness. Next came his belt, still in its box. The whole thing was black, riveted with studs along the whole length, the buckle swathed in packing still. Heavy sterling silver, textured around the edges, polished in the center with an onyx inlay of a stylized wolf head. The silver was tooled in the pattern of a hawk behind it. He'd seen it at a cowboy store, out buying his boots. It cost 300 dollars. He didn't hesitate one second. Belt went next to the pants.
The boots. He wasn't sure what to go with. He finally decided on the engineers. High shine Chippewas, polished fairly dully, with extra studded chains and a set of spurs, pyramid spikes adorning the top rim. He did it himself. They went on the floor next to the edge of the futon.
Hawk sat down. He was so aroused he was going slightly numb, his cock full of blood, swollen but half limp. He pulled on the pants, leather snugging up against his legs. He thanked the medical profession for the Coat-X hormones that let his fur stay thin and trim. So much nicer under clothes. He did up the fly, parts hanging out the hole in the front. He attached the codpiece, turning his prick into a coiled snake in a show-off pouch.
Next came the boots. Actually, next came the ankle zippers, leaving his pants trim straight down to his feet. Then the boots. Pulling on a pair of glossed-up engineers, foot sliding down in, the faint grasp of the shaft, was mutedly exhilarating. He'd done it so many times with his Wescos - kept out in the garage with his bike - but these held more power. He stood up, inspecting the tuck of the pants. His cock throbbed, trapped under his codpiece. When it came out, it would be angry and black, undoubtedly wet. The thought curled one of his lips into a sneer of a snarl.
He slid the new belt through its loops, the smell of freshly touched-up leather tickling his nose. The buckle clanked as it held shut. It felt hefty, noticeably more than his previous one, but his pants were snug enough that it wouldn't matter.
Hawk needed the two mirrors for the chest harness, to make sure it was even. It was a tremendous find; the company that made it was on the other side of the country, but someone had apparently not liked it and sold it secondhand to B&S, just hours before Hawk walked in the door the first time. He'd snapped it up. The epaulets extended out in a sharp point past his shoulders, studded and heavy, turning his broad shoulders into a positively imposing frame. The heavy latigo straps seemed to draw attention to his chest, nipple rings the final touch.
Walking the ten feet to pick up his gloves and bracers, Hawk felt like every step had sudden meaning. He had weight to himself now. He had a devilish momentum, a persistent frown on his muzzle that would turn into a blood-thirsty sneer whenever something piqued him. He wrapped his arms in the bracers, one by one, snapping them on against his leatherclad knee. They went past his elbows, steel running out to silver-adorned tips. If he bent his arm and dodged to the side, he imagined all the kinds of damage that might happen. Would happen.
Then, the gloves. Every time Hawk slid his hands into a pair of gloves, an electric shot tingled up his spine. The leather had been broken in by days of wearing them whenever he was at home; they fit flawlessly now, every curve of his hands masked and set off by deerskin. His black claws came through black Kevlar grommets at the tips of each finger, dull except for each index. He flexed, fisted, listened to the creak of leather. He stood in front of the mirrors, flexed again, listened to the squeak and creak of over a thousand dollars of midnight-black fetish energy. He swiped his slimwallet up, slid his cell into a holster on his belt, and grabbed his cycle keys.
--
Part 2 - People
Rumbling down the city street that Black and Silver sat on, Hawk realized that no one would hear him coming. The street was full of motorcycles and muscle cars; his Honda Shadow VLX Deluxe was no match for some of the monsters that seemed to grace the rougher outskirts of town. His bike was not a gigantic replacement for what he wasn't born with. It looked sharp and got him around for cheap, which was what mattered. Even without the chest-hammering thunder of a Valkyrie or a Harley Sportster 1200, Hawk turned heads. Surprisingly, no one looked quite like him.
He got off his bike, parking it up along a similar row outside of a biker bar. He crossed the street, heading for The Pit. He wanted to make sure nothing stupid happened because of his choice of life. At least, nothing stupid to his bike. A group of kids were hanging out in front of the sub shop a few fronts down from his destination. They pointed and started to jeer. Hawk just stopped. Adults making a statement gave him the willies; kids were just stupid. He glared a bit. When their eyes met him again, all four of them froze. Hawk kept walking, trying to downplay the surge of adrenaline he'd gotten. Nothing like that had ever happened before.
He looked back over his shoulder, catching the kids pointing and whispering to each other in a now-fearful way. When he turned back, he walked right into a clip-eared housecat.
"Hey, fucker! Get your cocksucking-" the cat squawled as Hawk bounced back a bit. He towered over the cat, whose ears flattened.
"Get my what?" Hawk growled. The cat mrowled, his hackles prickling up.
"You f-fucking ran into me!" he meowled. Hawk noticed the cat had on a ragged leather collar. Spiked. Street punk. Against his better judgement, he hooked two gloved fingers into the front ring and yanked forward and up. The cat coughed, hands shooting up to grab at his neck.
"You better be glad I didn't run you through, rat breath," he snarled, and tossed the cat aside. The punk hissed but scurried off. A group of people ahead, idly standing around in front of The Pit, shrank back to t he other side of a tree, next to the curb. Hawk strode up to the entrance, up the steps of the stark black-awninged building, and knocked the metal door open.
Inside, the pulse of loud, quasi-rock music pounded the floor. A bear was standing at the door.
"ID," he growled, arms crossed. He looked like he was going to add a plosive consonant, but Hawk's ears swung down. The bear just huffed faintly. Hawk produced his wallet. He was over age by plenty.
"Have fun," the bear growled, waved his wrist near a plate, and the interior door swung open. Hawk opted for the main level, the traditional bar. Downstairs was what used to be a goth dance club, now rolled into The Pit's general clientele for the dancing set. The contrast between the two places couldn't be greater. Dark oak upstairs, stark metal down. Medieval, machine. Hawk much preferred the former.
Rounding the corner, past the coat check, he stopped in the doorway. Every single time he'd been to The Pit had been right after school. Now that there was no school, he was there much later in the evening. Instead of being dusky and devoid of life, the bar was loaded with people. Cowboys, bondage Goths, leatherclad bikers. Every single one in leather. No one was allowed in without the proper attire; Hawk assumed there was no issue with his. A few people looked his way, a couple taking second glances. He strode to the bar.
Something about the place made him walk heavy and slow. He felt excitement prickle up his hackles, his tail whacking against someone's chair. He didn't bother to shout out the instinctive apology. Inside, he was mortally terrified. Never in his life had he ever seen such an expanse of distilled, 100% male machismo. It was beyond stultifying. He spied an empty seat around the corner of the bar, gratefully next to the wall. He took it, getting a funny look from the otter sitting next to him. The bartender came by; familiar. He was the rat from before.
"Well. I think you look predatory, Mr Hawk," the rat said, grinning. He put down a glass.
"Yeah. Surprised you recognized me."
"You kidding? Now I know where you got that nickname."
Hawk didn't bother to let on that he'd created it, on the spot, the first time he'd been there. Everyone else, save The Fox, knew him as Hank, Harry, or Mr. Kirsch. "Yeah. Hopping, huh? Never seen this place like this."
"You've never been here at night," The rat grinned, and pushed up his glasses. He turned away, fixing drinks for a moment. He gave one to a cat with an eyepatch, then slid one down to Hawk.
"What's this?" he said, looking down at the tall, pale orange drink.
"Long Island."
"Geez. I could never be a bartender. I don't even remember what I like to drink."
"On the house, too," the rat said, getting an eyeroll from the otter. Hawk sipped at it, and coughed. Double strong.
"Really. What am I, millionth patron or some shit?"
"No, but I saw Carl give you a second glance when you walked in. If Carl gives someone a second glance, that person gets a drink."
"Who the fuck's Carl?" Hawk lied. He knew who the rat was referring to - a German Shepherd that seemed to be intent on staring down anyone who walked in the door.
"GSD over yonder. If he stares twice, that person's not gonna go home empty-handed. So they get a complimentary drink."
Hawk eyed his drink. He sucked it down. The otter happened to look over, and lifted an eyebrow.
"Dang. You sure this pup's gonna go home empty handed? Empty belly, at this rate."
"I'm thirsty," Hawk growled. He added in a sneer. The otter shrugged and went back to looking around. The rat eyed the bar, saw no empty glasses, and elbowed down.
"You know... there's..." The rat started to say, looked around, and then rubbed his chin. "Someone was looking for you. For a few days, actually."
Hawk slurped noisily at the last of his drink, then swung his tongue around his lower jaw. He clunked the glass down at the confidentiality. "Wha? Who?" Instant pile of nerves, a firestorm caught in the nick of time by a rush of blood to his ears. A buzz.
"I can't say," the rat smiled. "I promised."
"It's not a fox, is it?"
"I can't say. Just passing it along."
Hawk growled to himself, feeling his anxiety coming back. Was this some sort of weird code? He had very little experience. His life in terms of sex was a blur lately, taunting The Fox at his job, now stalking out at a club. "Well. How about you get me a drink for the wandering, and I wander for a bit?"
"That's what I'm here for. Name it."
"151, double, with a twist."
The otter turned again. "You gotta be kidding."
The rat whipped out a stainless shot glass, dumped out two full shots of Bacardi 151, and squeezed a quarter lemon into it, licking his fingers. Hawk took it and pounded it back, letting out a huff and a snarl. He leaned over to the otter. "I'm never kidding," he breathed, making the mustelid blink. "Catfood, keep a tab."
"Right on, shit-kisser."
Hawk disengaged from his stool and entered the crowd. He still felt wracked up inside, but with two ounces of 151 burning its way into his blood, he felt another surge of lustful power that counteracted it. People were standing around, milling around tables. Foxes down on all fours, kissing the boots of tigers. Drinks in paw, glove leather around each glass. Slaves led around, cowboy posturing, biker showoff contests in the back corner. Hawk strutted through it all, the weight of his boots to his advantage, heads turning. He was hardly the most leather-clad, but something about him seemed to be a beacon. He felt like a candle flame, waiting for the moths to come.
He leaned up against a back wall, people watching, blood rushing through his ears. Fear and anxiety were now pure excitement. The smell of sweat, fur, leather, alcohol, smoke brought out the raw beast in him, lip curling. There was suddenly a doggish creature in front of him. Tall ears, slender face, jet black fur. Gold ankh around the neck. A jackal, only obviously the victim of a dyejob. Wrist cuffs, cowboy boots, sharp boot-cut leather pants, crotchless. Thong. Ear piercings
"Oh. Oh, hello, sir," the jackal said. His ears tilted back. Hawk hung his gloved paws off his belt.
"Hmmm. Want something, false idol?" Hawk said, taking care to turn his muzzle away from the jackal. He heard a whimper.
"Anything," the ebony creature whimpered. Hawk thought for a moment, looking down at the top of the creature's head. The poor thing wanted so hard to be subservient, he knew not to make eye contact. Hawk's crotch twitched, his meat coming alive at all the possible things he could do. He wasn't particularly interested in someone who wanted to be a slave. But. Hawk's mouth watered from the stiff drink, so he growled and spat down onto his boot. There was more than he thought, and some of it spattered the ground. The jackal's ears pinned back, and he eagerly put nose to leather, kissing, licking, softly moaning.
"All of it, you little fucker," Hawk snarled, looking around, pretending not to care. His lips curled back. He watched a pink tongue brush over the toe of his boot, then down over the side of the sole, across the floor. The jackal brushed his arm over the wet leather, buffing it before he lifted his head. "Now get up," Hawk snapped, and jabbed his boot between the canid's legs, lifted. The jackal whined. "I said get up!" The jackal stood.
"Sir-"
"Call me sir again, and you're not going to have anything left to make a sound with. Now, stop playing slave and tell me who the fuck you are."
"Hunnnh... uh," the jackal moved to swallow, then hrfed. He turned his head and spat loudly. "Oh man. I don't even know what I just licked up. Wow. You drink hard, too. Uh. I'm Airn."
"Aaron, huh-"
"Airn. A I r n."
"Yeah, right. That ain't a name," Hawk sneered. He wished he had a drink, for the sheer effect of pounding back hard liquor in front of a captive audience. The thought made him feel a bit embarrassed, his ears flushing.
"Well, what's yours?"
"Hawk," he smirked.
"That's not real either!" The jackal laughed. He swiped up a drink from a table behind him, sipping at it as if it was his. Hawk hoped it was.
"Yeah. Well. That's how it is," Hawk growled. The jackal moved to the side a little, to lean on the wall with his drinking arm. A fingerless-gloved paw moved to Hawk's chest. Seeing no resistance, it started to trace the leather straps.
"Oh. Well, you're certainly... Hawkish. Mmm. I think I'd let you do anything."
Hawk imagined doing anything. His cock stiffened painfully inside his codpiece. He wanted to pull it out, but wasn't quite sure if he could get away with it. The fingers stroking his leathers grasped a little, pulled a bit. Hawk snarled suddenly and yanked himself back flat against the wall. Airn huffed and barked, his reddish drink splashing all over Hawk's crotch, thigh, and up his chest a bit.
"Look what you made me do," the wolf snarled, full of teeth. Airn set the glass back down, trembling slightly. "Better clean that up."
Airn's fingers stroked along Hawk's thighs, around to his rump as the Jackal kneeled again, pink tongue lavishing along the rivulets on leather. He huffed softly, kissing and so eagerly licking around. He paused only a second before washing over Hawk's bulging codpiece, the mass twitching and shifting. He moved up, over the belt, then up along one of the chest straps. He stood, licking a bit into the fur, then across one of Hawk's ringed nipples. Hawk sucked in a breath. Airn grabbed the ring in his teeth and tugged, then nipped at the fleshy nub.
That did it for the black wolf. A gloved paw grabbed for Airn's jaw, pinching at the hinge, freeing his nipple. He pushed the canid back, a couple gloved fingers forcing into the jackal's maw. "That's enough fun for now, bitch. Go play somewhere else. You might see me again," he snapped, and shoved Airn backwards. The jackal stumbled against the table, nodded curtly, and scurried off.
Hawk moved a bit, behind a throng of people. He shuddered, a paw reaching down to adjust the leather reigning him in. He never had to try to do anything like that; it came from somewhere within, spilling out. Before he had a chance to think it, he would unleash himself. It was titillating and frightening.
While he was contemplating, Hawk got the strange sensation of someone coming up behind him. A voice whispered in his ear.
"Oh, greetings, Wolf of-"
Hawk turned. He was nose to chin with an outlandish, lanky maned wolf. "Oh good grief."
"I hope you got my message?" Alzarre said, planting a black-gloved paw on the wall and leaning. Hawk looked at it for a moment. Nice leather.
"Well shit. That was you, huh? And you think that I'd actually associate with you, why? After the first time we met?" Hawk growled. He had a scowl on his face, although he wanted to grin. He found it strangely amusing. Plus, the alcohol was having its full effect, and he couldn't stem the urge to show off his fangs.
"Well, I don't know," the faux-fox said, strut-stalking around Hawk, starting to walk away. "Because of your very big... hmm, ego, yes... won't let it die."
Hawk looked down, flattened his ears, snarled. The maned wolf was just wandering off. Hawk followed, his heavyweight strut turning into a slightly intoxicated swagger.
Alzarre stopped at a corner couch. It actually came out in a three-qua rter circle, a small oasis in the far back reaches of the main bar. He motioned for Hawk to come in, and the wolf did. Alzarre sat back in the corner, Hawk across from him.
"Well. For someone who was so angry to find out I'm a randy little bitch, you seem quite intent on following me home."
Hawk chuffed, and looked over his shoulder. He tried to spot one of the thong-clad leopards that appeared to be waitstaff. "That's because...." The wolf said, and then thought for a moment. "Fuck you."
A leopard appeared, carrying a notepad. "Whiskey sour, double," Hawk said, reclining. He sneered the request, ears wilted from the Bacardi. Alzarre caught the waiter's eye.
"Oh, I don't know... a glass of red wine. Whatever's most expensive."
The leopard paused, then scribbled, nodded, and left. "Quiet fucker," Hawk mused. "And fucking wine?"
"Did you see how he looked? He must be new. I haven't seen him. I always drink wine. You'd be surprised how it kicks. They rotate it here, though. Shame." Alzarre draped a paw on his knee. Hawk looked him over.
"You've kinda gone up in the world of attire."
"You're kind of intoxicated," Alzarre smiled. "Oh, have I? I'll assume anything that's not profanity from you is a compliment."
Hawk rolled his eyes. Though he had to admit Alzarre seemed to have done a good job. Gone was the hunt club attire, replaced with dusky red leather pants, laced with metal chains up the sides, buckled shut in front; red leather vest over a ruffled white shirt; flawlessly tailored black leather gloves; the ever-present heeled riding boots. "Yeah. Uh. Where'd you get the pants?"
"Would you believe a garage sale?" Alzarre smiled, and looked inside his vest. He took out a cigarillo and a lighter, flaming up and huffing two rings out his nose.
"No."
'Too bad. Some singer from a horrible heavy metal band. He broke his leg and gained weight, had to sell them."
"That's the dumbest story I've ever heard. So, why are we sitting around?" Hawk growled, reclining into the corner of two couch sections. He put his boots up on the table, crossing them.
"Well, what do you suggest doing?" Alzarre said, puffing at his cigarillo. The leopard reappeared with two glasses. Alzarre took his, raised it, and sipped. Hawk put back a third of his whiskey sour, snarling and hissing through his teeth.
"Finding someone to fuck. I don't dance or anything. I assume that's why everyone's here. Hell if I know. I'm fuckin' fresh."
"Hmm. If it was that easy. I've had no luck."
"Reallly? That's weird. I'd expect even a jackass like you would get some fuckin' tail after a while. I'm sure the drugs kick in downstairs. I had some jackal going after me earlier."
"Oh, I saw. He's something else. I don't think he likes me. I may have insulted him, though."
"If you have to think about it, you did," Hawk chuckled. "I dunno. Don't try so hard."
"How do you know I try hard?" The maned wolf groused, putting out the butt of his cigarillo. He sipped at his wine again, putting it back a little too fast for expensive wine. Hawk put back the rest of his whiskey sour without any shame.
"Because you're a fucking chicken, just like me. Am I right?"
"Whaaaaat?"
"You've never fucked anyone. Admit it."
Alzarre was silent.
"Hah. Told you. Don't fucking try. They'll walk right up and beg. I say this like I know, but I'm just getting drunk and prob'ly kinda wrong," Hawk grunted. He shook his head as if he was clearing something out of it. "Ungh. Shouldn't have done two of 151."
"Impressive. I think I know how to clear up your mind a bit."
Hawk perked an eyebrow. "Yeah? That's not gonna work. Nothin' keeps me from turning into a dumb drunk." He drawled.
The maned wolf withdrew a stainless, screw-cap vial from his vest. He grinned at the black wolf, then leaned down across the table. He opened it up, tapping something white out onto Hawk's boot.
"Now, I didn't say you could do that. I oughta shake it all off. How.. I dunno," Hawk grumbled. Alzarre leaned down, a gloved finger over one of his nostrils, and inhaled the line with a long snort.
"Unngh. I wish my nose wasn't so long," the maned wolf coughed, snorting again, longer. He leaned down, licking up the residue here and there. He made a show of it. "Is it okay if I do this? I hope you don't mind.... You're free to have some if you want."
Hawk sat there, watching Alzarre lick along the shaft of his boot. There was nothing he wanted to see more. His codpiece stirred a bit, his ears pinking, face hot. "Yeah, sure, whatever."
"Mmm. But you get to take it from... here," The maned wolf smirked, his pupils starting to widen. He held the vial over his crotch.
"You fucker."
'Take it or leave it. I'd prefer you take it, though. Shouldn't let things go to waste."
Hawk shrugged, and scooted around on the couch until he was next to Alzarre. He looked down at the line of coke the other wolf was drawing up along the bulge in his pants. How ridiculous, he thought. After another couple seconds, he realized he was just making an excuse. He didn't want to make any excuses. He leaned down and drew it in with a heavy, quick breath. His eyes watered immediately, lips curling back, letting out a growl.
"Awwww fuck! Unrgh! I hate that! God damn whoever thought you should suck that shit up your nose!" Hawk growled, coughing. His nose felt numb, along with the back of his throat, which he cleared. After a moment, his heart started to pound, lights got a bit brighter.
"Now see? Isn't that better?" Alzarre said, leaning back again. He was breathing a bit hard, muzzle damp with sweat. He wiped it free, then adjusted his pants. There was a thick bulge under the leather.
"Hrrr. I'm gonna go fuck someone," Hawk growled, standing up. He felt a rush of ecstasy building up in him, a grin sprawling across his face. Alzarre looked confused.
"Whaaat? You can't just go fuck someone!"
"Watch me," Hawk shouted over his shoulder, striding off towards the front staircase down to the dance floor.
Hawk was not prepared for cocaine. He hadn't done it since he was in high school, and the high left him strangely focused and on edge. He didn't notice the glance from Carl on his way down to the dance crowd. When he got there, the sound and light nearly overwhelmed him. The music was a strange mix of blues rock and EBM industrial, an actual guitarist up on stage with a keyboardist and a DJ at the far end. He didn't feel like dancing, only like prowling.
It was a sea of bodies in bondage gear, pleather and the real thing, studs and rings and collars, fur highlights, boots, gloves, vests, hoods. The smell was rank and animal, and Hawk couldn't have loved it more. He wasn't sure what to do, stalking around various people, migrating to the other side of the dancefloor.
After a few moments, the high blistering into lustful paranoia, he felt someone tap his shoulder. He spun, ready to attack. Instead, he saw Airn.
"Whoa. Uh. Hi. Uh," the Jackal said, muzzle damp with sweat. His eyes were black saucers. "Don't hurt me, sir," he said, pointing the sir out very sarcastically.
"Don't hurt you? Don't hurt you? Who says I won't eviscerate you with my cock?" Hawk snarled, ears flattening back. Airn's knees knocked together and he let out a whimper, grinning hugely. He was obviously on something. "Sneak up like that, and you're going to either love it or regret it."
"Wow. Hawk, uh, wow. I'm glad I ran into you again. Oh, do I have to go off and be a good little slave again?" Airn said, reaching forward, running his paws through Hawk's chestfur, over the leather harness, visibly shuddering.
"Slave? To who?" The wolf asked, unable to stop grinning. In fact, his lip twitched a bit. He had to consciously avoid ripping his codpiece off and jumping the jackal right there. Airn sunk down to his knees, nosing at Hawk's crotch.
"Ooh, to Carl, you know... he owns this place... oh, I'm a bad jackal, oh, I shouldn't be doing this.... Master's going to punish me..." he whimpered, trying to remove Hawk's codpiece. His paw was removed by the wolf. Airn just leaned forward, licking at Hawk's gloved fingers.
"Not here. You're a little slut, you know all the places. You lead me, or I'm going to take you upstairs and-"
"Noooo, you wouldn't!" Airn protested playfully. He took Hawk's paw and yanked. "Come on, come on..."
Hawk was led back into what was probably a chillout room, reeking of marijuana smoke and something slightly foul. There were a few people on a large, cushioned platform, teasing and groping each other, talking, making out. They were surrounded by plants and some sort of backdrop. Airn scurried over, peeked behind it, and beckoned for Hawk. The wolf walked over and looked. Behind everything was a rather dark space, a few boxes of things there. "What's this?"
"It's just out of the way. Mmm. Do you really want to fuck me? I know you do. You're so hard in your pants. You're such a big wolf, I bet. I love big-"
Hawk pushed Airn back into the darkness. The jackal stumbled back against something that looked like a small platform, sat down on it. "Mmm. Wow. Hang on, hang on," the canid whimpered, undoing his thong, setting it aside. He then turned over, unzipping something Hawk hadn't seen before, a black zipper that exposed more black fur and a pink tailhole. Airn rolled back over just as Hawk unsnapped his codpiece. Eight inches of cock flopped out, pulsing as it stiffened up, free from its home. "Oh shiiiiit!" Airn whined, and fumbled at an inside pocket of his vest, pulling out a vial and a weird metal contraption that looked like a pouring spout for liquor.
"What the hell is that?" Hawk asked, leaning forward to eye it. Airn popped a captive plastic cork out of the vial and stuck the metal thing on top of it. Hawk felt like he was going to explode inside.
"Oh, you know.. rush... here, stick this in your nose, cover the other.. thingy... and sniff." Airn handed Hawk the bottle. The wolf took it, stuck the tube up his nose, covered his right nostril, and took in a whole lungful of air mixed with a noxious vapor. It smelled like oranges and paint thinner, and he coughed, handing the thing back.
"What the.. that's gross! Why would you-" Hawk started to say, just as the blood roared up into his face. His heart started to thump, then thunder, then pound. All he wanted to do was fuck. His cock tingled, swelling, precum oozing out the head all over the floor. He growled and pushed the jackal onto his back, forcing his legs apart. Airn whimpered, taking a sniff of it himself, a long draw in each nostril. Hawk spit down on his cockhead, the jackal setting the bottle of rush down.
Hawk could barely see, but when he got his cockhead up against Airn's hole, a paw grabbed at it and guided. The wolf bore down, his thick meat sliding in unnervingly easy. Airn let out a long groan, arching his back, grabbing for Hawk's chest. The wolf just pinned a gloved paw over the canid's snout.
"Don't you fuckin' say anything," he hissed. "Don't you make any noise, or you're going to regret it, you hot piece of shit." He jabbed himself in deep, arching his back, groaning as his body pounded and hummed. He pinned Airn flat, thrusting hard, muscles squeezing and milking at him. Hawk was in some kind of explosive blur, ramped up on coke, drunk and almost losing consciousness from a viscious headrush. He let go of the jackal's snout, to hear the slave whimper something about doing it again right before you.... Something. Hawk picked up the bottle again, snorted hard once, twice, three times, and tossed it aside. He snarled, climax rushing up on him, time suddenly slowing. He howled, seeing some sort of explosion in his mind, the rush of ecstasy stretching out for what seemed like an eternity, balls unloading hard into the jackal's tightness. He pulled back, staggering, and thumped against the wall.
"Unngh. Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit," he growled, looking down. Cum leaked from the end of his slackening prick, his codpiece hung from one snap under that, the jackal lay there panting. There was something odd attached to his sheath. "What the hell's that?"
"Oh, it's.. I can't climax unless my master lets me. Mmm. Oh shit, he's going to be so angry. Oh...." Airn whimpered, got up, and stumbled away. Hawk just stood there, wheezing to himself, his head starting to pound. After a few moments, he sat down, leaning his head against the backdrop they'd been hiding behind.
"Mmmm. I don't believe you just did that," a voice whispered. It had a hint of british to it, along with some clipped Hispanic notes. Hawk turned his head, saw eyes.
"Who the fuck..." he tried to focus through the dark, but all he saw was some giant purple eye of god. He blinked, seeing stars.
"It's me, you fool. Adam Ant."
Hawk popped to alertness. "Jesus, you freak! You've been watching!?"
There was a thump, and Alzarre rushed up around the corner and next to Hawk. "I followed you, you know. I saw you and that thing, and you went back here and... you're a beast. A huge, amazing, stallion of a wolf, you know that?" Alzarre said, grabbing onto Hawk. The wolf carefully extricated himself. He snapped up his codpiece.
"Ungh. Shit. Let's get out of here, act like nothing happened."
They both left, pretending to have just done a couple lines. Once upstairs, they reoccupied the far back corner booth.
"That was crazy! How did you do that?"
"He begged me, Al. He saw me before, and really wanted me. So I did him. He had this stuff, and it was really weird... everything's kind of yellow, but man, it made me cum stars."
"You mean see stars, and don't call me Al." Alzarre fished in his pocket, producing the item. "You mean this?"
"Yeah. He said it's rush or something-"
"Oooh! I've heard of that. You do this, right?" Alzarre said, impulsively sticking the inhaler's tube into his nose and inhaling hard. He grunted and set the bottle down, where Hawk grabbed it. The maned wolf wheezed, muzzle gaping open, and he leaned back. "Oh shit. Oh, this is... mmm. I wish you were fucking me like you fucked that... thing. Mmmm." Alzarre started to rub at his crotch, head sprawled back against the couch. Hawk just dismantled the inhaler, recorking the vial and disappearing it into a drug pocket in his pants.
"I'm not fucking you. You're not fucking me, either. I don't know what your problem is, but you need to stop being so haughty and... just ... I don't know. Ungh." Hawk cracked his neck.
"Mmm. I want some air. I need air. Mr Finland, we're going to go take a walk."
Alzarre stormed off. Hawk growled to himself, stalking over to the bar. He let the bartending rat swipe his debit card, then made for the door. He wasn't sure why he was following Alzarre; he felt like there was some interesting thing to come of it. On his way out, he came up behind Carl, who was sitting and watching the door, sipping at some mottled drink. In a complete lapse of judgement, Hawk leaned down and whispered into the dog's ear.
"I fucked your little slave. I rammed his shithole until I pumped my load into it, and if you don't punish him for it, I'm going to punish you."
Hawk then just rushed away, out the door, past the staircase, past the bouncer, and out into the street. His heart pounded, city lights a vibrant starfield. He looked around; the street was hardly less deserted than before. About twenty feet down, smoking a cigarillo, was Alzarre.
"Well, what took you so long?" The maned wolf asked, grin on his face.
"What do you think you're doing, just running out here? Don't you want... huh. It's kinda cool out here. Kinda nice."
Alzarre just smirked wider. "Oh, you're so fucked up. You want more of that? We can go in a back alley. I'll let you do it off my prick-"
"Shut up, dammnit! You're gonna get us in trouble."
"Well, I don't see myself getting fucked, so why not the next best thing?"
"This is so ridiculous. You make it seem like it's a big deal. It's not a big deal. Just do it. That's how it works, isn't it? You just do it. You take what you want. That's why you hang out at-" Hawk felt his hackles rising. Alzarre looked momentarily stunned, his face slowly panning to follow something. The black wolf craned his neck.
"That's a fox. What's the big deal?"
"Look at him, you oaf!" Alzarre snapped, shoving Hawk in front of him. It was a fox, a fairly short red one. The fox was nervously walking down the street, clad in a pair of chaps, cowboy boots, a zip-front thong, black vest, police gloves. The night had progressed, and the fox no longer stuck out; there were groups of punks, club kids, street people, whores, pimps. He was garish and unusual but not something that merited any more attention to a casual eye. It was equally wild.
To a wolf, the fox was suddenly the only thing in the world. Hawk completely ignored Alzarre, starting after the vulpine. "What are you doing?" Alzarre complained, strutting up behind Hawk.
"I have a hunch. I have this idea. It's so crazy it's not going to work, but I'm so fucking high and wired that I'm going to try it anyway."
"Oh, good wolfy," the maned wolf grinned. "Shall I follow your example?"
"Play along. Shut up and play along."
They followed the fox a few blocks, away from the rowdy nightclub part of town, through the red-light district, into an industrial block. The fox was apparently trying to walk home. Had he been at the club? Hawk couldn't remember. All he could think of was fox, how foxes smell, how they look, how the ones in the woods back home would romp around and party, how-
The fox went to use a pay phone, only to pull the receiver clear off. "Shit! Shit shit shit shit! God dammnit!"
Hawk grinned. "That's why God made cellphones." The fox snapped to attention, ears folding back.
"Hey! Get away from me! I didn't do anything!" the fox said, backing up into a lightpost. He looked terrified.
"Really? You picked up that phone and it didn't work. That's something."
"Who the fuck are you!?"
"Jesus kid, calm your ass down. I'm just a wolf who's out for some fresh air. I fucking hate dance clubs. They smell like a locker room mixed with a bottle of clorox."
"Oh. Uh, I was just going home. Nothing was going on at that club. You were there. Uh, you know, that one."
"I'm not a moron. I think I saw you." Hawk was lying, although he couldn't be certain. There certainly wasn't anything noteworthy about the fox's attire. Pretty standard fare.
Hawk leaned on the phone box. Alzarre hung back, wandering around aimlessly, keeping an eye on both of them. "So. Well, if you're going home, why do you need a phone?"
The fox looked cross. "I gotta call one of my friends. He was going to pick me up later, but... what's that? I mean, your friend? He looks like some kind of weird fox." Alzarre took offense and opened his mouth. Hawk shook his head slightly.
"That's Al. He's a maned wolf. I live a couple blocks away. I could give you a ride or something."
The fox's ears stayed back. "I don't know."
"That's fine," Hawk said, and just kept walking. He had to grab Alzarre by the wrist to get him to follow. A quarter block away, the fox yelled out.
"What the fuck? What are you going to do, just walk away!? I'm stuck here! I live miles away!"
"Then stop standing there and follow me!"
Hawk did not live a few blocks away. He was not going to give the fox a ride home; his bike was back near the club. The fox's name was Chad, and Hawk was going to do something terrible. The thoughts spiraled around in his head, elaborate plans starting to wind themselves up, disparate pieces of information coalescing into a very dangerous evening.
"Why are you two walking with me? I can take care of myself," the fox said, as they turned down a street off the main drag. It looked dark and nearly abandoned. Someone's dog barked in the distance. Hawk cringed; he hated the sound of a real dog barking in someone's yard. There was something terrible about it. The fox didn't seem to care, and Alzarre was starting to look a bit strange.
"Because this is a real bad part of town." They came up near a dilapidated brownstone. Half of it had condemned fliers tacked up in the windows, broken glass, open doors. The other half only had one light on in the upper left. Hawk led the way up to one of the doors.
"Uh, you live here?"
The wolf didn't respond, glaring instead, then grabbing the knob. He knew the building was mostly abandoned, but he didn't know if the door would be locked. It wasn't. The air that came out was stale and musty.
"Wait, this is weird. You-" The fox started to say, gloved fingers curling around his upper arms from behind. Alzarre guided him in the door.
"Be quiet, little foxy," the maned wolf said, giving the fox's ear a lick. Chad looked like he was going to shriek, then his knees slapped together. Part of Hawk's mind said that was a very bad thing, someone terrified enough that they couldn't react. "Get out of the way, Al."
"Hmm?" the maned wolf said, letting go. Hawk lurched forward, using Chad's body to shut the door with a crash. The fox squeaked. "You were going to say I don't live here, weren't you? But now you're not going to say anything."
The fox was too stunned to do more than stare Hawk in the face. "You, get .. go find something to tie him up with," Hawk snapped at Alzarre. The maned wolf shrugged loosely and started hunting around. He disappeared through a doorway. The fox tried to say something but Hawk muzzled him with a fist around the jaw. "Come with me."
He literally dragged the fox down the hallway, shoving him with a huff into a dark room. The fox yelped and crashed to the floor with a thud. Hawk curiously followed, a foot stepping onto nothing. There was a step. "Hmmph. Al, where the fuck are you? I told you to go get something."
There was no answer. "Well fuck. Guess it's just you and me, fox." Hawk whacked around on the wall for a light switch. After a few thuds he found it, and the room was bathed in pathetic, flickering yellow light. "How fucking appropriate."
"Get away from me!" The fox squalled, rolling onto his back, crabwalking. Hawk just looked around, stalking forward, his heel-falls echoing throughout the building. The wolf spotted what looked like some renovation equipment, a paint spraying rig, various things to hold up a small scaffold. The room was arched-ceiling, surprisingly nice for such a decrepit building. Hawk bent down and fetched up some rope, bit through it with a snarl, brandished a length.
"Don't tell me what to do. It's a big mistake," the wolf growled. He lurched forward and pinned the fox flat against the floor with a boot to the chest. The fox's gloved paws immediately grabbed at the boot, wrestling with it.
"Get off me! Get off me! You stupid fuck!"
"I might be a fuck, but I'm not stupid. You just insulted me. You kiss my boot and make it better," Hawk hissed, grinding his heel into chestfur. The fox whined, ears splayed back. "Fucking do it!" Hawk barked, shoving the toe forward, nearly choking the fox before he dodged his head out of the way. With a whine, a pink tongue slid out against the black hide. Hawk growled, codpiece swelling up with cock.
If the fox really didn't want to do it, his own erection betrayed him. Hawk realized suddenly that he'd led a random stranger into a house under reconstruction in the bad part of town. It made his blood run cold, even as he watched the fox lick. "Hey, you aren't doing that right, asshole," he said, whacking the fox in the side of the muzzle. The vulpine barked and suddenly wailed Hawk in the shin with a fist. Hawk yelped and backed away, growling. The fox laughed and tried to hop up to his haunches to run off. Hawk beat him to it, bowling the creature to the floor and kneeing him between the shoulderblades. Hawk started tying the fox's paws together with the rope, snarling.
"Hah, you can't even tie up a fox, can you?" The fox smirked, looking over his shoulder. Hawk blinked.
"What the fuck?" he snapped, and whacked the fox in the back of the head. "Shut up." Hawk got the paws bound and went right for the fox's thong, pulling it aside and tearing his own codpiece off. "You're fucked up the ass-hole, right now, you little shit."
Hawk was more fucked up than he realized. Like before, there was no easy entrance into the fox, just a rough shove and a yelp that he stifled with a paw around the vulpine's muzzle. He was saying things as he crushed his body down against the fox, but he didn't register them. He was just seeing red, hammering himself forward, trying to get off.
As abruptly as his mind clouded, it went clear. He pulled back with a rude wet slurp, the fox letting out an exasperated grunt, muzzle thwapping the floor.
"Unngh. Did you cum? I didn't feel it," the fox said, panting. Hawk was pacing around the room angrily, looking for something. He found it in a thin board propped up against a hole in the plaster of the wall and snapped it up.
"Shut up, fox. I'm not done with you," Hawk growled, clomping back over. The vulpine looked over his shoulder and - apparently not seeing the board - looked back to the floor and stretched.
"Aww, wolfie can't shoot in his little bitch?" the fox sneered, getting up onto his knees despite his hand-bindings and stretching again. "And my name's not fox, it's Chad-"
Thwack. Hawk nailed the fox on the rump hard enough that it made the fox stiffen and bark. "I said shut up. Obviously you're not good at listening to wolves, so maybe we should work on that a little, huh?" Hawk said, face creeping into a lopsided grin. He felt the creeping tingle in his hands, the darkness coming over. So dark, can't do this in the light.... the thought twittered in his head and he flicked the board up, smashing the lightbulb and plunging things into near darkness.
"Hey shit, what the hell do you think you're doing?" The fox said, having lept out of the way and tried to back into a wall. Hawk followed until the fox was pushed against the wall. "Look, okay, that was kind of hot, and you have a really nice dick, but...."
Hawk wasn't saying anything, just standing there, glaring the fox down.
"Uhh. Uhh... rrrr," Chad whined, "Uhh, you have a really nice dick, sir."
A gloved hand wrapped around the fox's throat, choking him almost completely, banging his head against the wall. "Didn't I tell you not to call me 'sir'? If I didn't, I just did. Let's try that again," Hawk huffed, and hauled the fox away from the wall, throwing him into the middle of the room. "On your knees."
Chad looked terrified and slumped down. "Uh, Mr. Wolf, I'd really like to suck your dick. It's so big and, uh, and b-black..."
Hawk's grin felt like it was going to leave his face and crash through the wall. Seeing the fox's terrified and lustful expression just made it worse. "Even after I fucked you with it? Even after I shoved it up your rank little fox-hole?" Hawk strutted forward, slowly. Each heel-clomp made Chad shrink back until his gloved paws scraped at the floor. "You're not going to suck my cock. You're going to kiss my fucking balls and tell me what you think of me. And my name's Hawk" Hawk's balls ended up on top of Chad's nose.
"Unh, uh, yes, H-Hawk," Chad whispered, moving back enough that he could take a few tentative licks of the wolf's balls. "You're the meanest wolf I've ever met."
"You call that a kiss?" the wolf laughed, whacking Chad upside the head, then whipping the board up. He pushed back on the fox until Chad was tense and whining, about to fall backwards. "Maybe you just get to look at it now, or look at me, and you don't get to kiss the sweat off my balls. Maybe you don't deserve it." Hawk looked down at the cock-shaped bulge in the fox's thong. He lifted a boot and ground the sole down against it.
"Ohhh, please, please take it out, take out my dick and fuck me, and make me shoot while-"
Hawk let Chad go and backhanded him. "Your punishment just got worse, fox." he grabbed the vulpine by the scruff and hauled him to his feet. "Now come on. I gotta find that asshole of a wolf I came in here with."
Hawk dragged the vulpine into the neighboring room, then shoved him onto what looked like a piano bench. "And you better fucking stay put. Uh...." Hawk looked around, and found a broken lamp. He ripped the cord off and bound the fox's boots to the legs of the bench, the vulpine struggling and whining.
"Asshole, hmm? I haven't been in the bath, getting all puckered, so I don't know where that one comes from," a voice said. Hawk turned and glared.
"Where the hell did you get off to?"
"I smell sex. Were you fucking him?"
"You wouldn't know what sex smells like. Come over here and help me."
Alzarre strutted over, the fox trying to hide his face. "Holy shit, come on, look, my asshole hurts okay? You're big, just-"
Hawk wound a gloved paw around the fox's snout. "Shut up. Al, you've never fucked anyone, right? Well look, I pumped it up some fox's hole my first time, so you get to do the same thing. Get on him."
Alzarre snorted and sucked on a finger, then yanked Chad's tail out of the way. He plunged the finger in, to a yelp. "Put it in here? Are you sure? Foxes are pretty dirty. Don't know where he's been."
"Yeah, well, he gets to see just how dirty he is in there," Hawk laughed, and let go of Chad's snout. The wolf grabbed up the fox's headfur and hefted him upwards to a great yell. "Shut the fuck up!" Hawk barked, backhanding the vulpine. Black dick slid up against the side. "Either you suck me off right now, or I'll hump the side of your face like a dog and coat you in fucking wolf-cum."
Alzarre busied himself stroking up his cock, spitting down on a palm. "Unngh. Like this? Is this enough?" He asked, wavering back and forth slowly. "Mmm, my first ass-hole to get in. I'll cherish this..."
Chad pleaded. "Come on, come on, please, just do it on my face, I'll kiss your boots, I'll fucking polish the leather, I'll do anything, please, please don't put that nasty thing back in my mouth!"
"Fine." Hawk clomped a boot up next to the vulpine's head just as Alzarre entered him. Chad whined and let his tongue swath out over the black leather, ears flat against his head. "When you get off, if you shoot on my leather, you're going to regret it."
Alzarre backed up suddenly. "Oh, this little wretch is tight," he chuckled, and forced himself back in. Chad drooled and let out an aimless groan as the maned wolf slid all the way in. "How does a foot of glorious cock feel in there, huh?" He started to thrust slow and deep, the fox jolting and trying to wrench away from Hawk's boot each time he was plowed.
"Look, see this? See my cock here? Take a good look, because-" Hawk was busy beating himself off and his cockhead flared, pumping out a huge load of seed all over the fox's face. He snarled and barked, letting the last ooze out onto Chad's nosepad. The fox whined and whacked his snout down against the bench as a sticky load of foxcum pumped onto the bench. Alzarre pulled out.
"Well, I think I should go now," he said, drunkenly waving and stalking off. Hawk stretched and groaned, putting a boot down and pacing around. He paused to wipe his shaft off on Chad's tail.
"Uhhnn. Can you uh, un-"
"Yeah, sure," Hawk said, and untied the fox's paws. "Sorry. I'm kind of fucked up. Let me go find something... you know..." The wolf grumbled to himself, wandering into a kitchen. He rooted around before finding a rag. "I don't know where this has been, so grit and bear it." He wiped the fox's face off.
"Shit, so uhm, who are you, anyway?" Chad said, cracking his back and trying to smooth down his fur. Hawk was busy reattaching his codpiece.
"I already told you. My name's Hawk."
"No, I mean-"
"It's my nickname."
"Come on, don't be an ass."
"Look, shouldn't you get home or something? You look kind of young. It's probably past your bedtime." Hawk leaned on the wall, looking up at the ceiling.
"I'm 19. I have my own place. Want to come see it?"
"No. I want to go home and curl up in a ball. I feel like shit now."
"What? After that? That was so fucking insane!" Chad yapped.
"Have you ever done coke?"
"No?"
"Then don't underestimate my ability to feel like my own shit. Look, you going to be okay going home by yourself? I could give you a lift."
"That's okay. I think I need some air..."
Hawk scratched the back of his neck. "Okay. Fine."
The two headed out of the run-down brownstone and went their separate ways. Hawk barely made it in his front door before passing out on the carpet.
Three days later, Hawk was sitting on the couch in his basement, watching something on television. It was something to do with tuning cars or building custom motorcycles. He was lost in thought and enjoying a beer and relaxing in general.
Something moving in the patio door caught his eye. He looked over and saw ears flick behind a tree. The wolf got up off the couch with a grunt and stalked over to the door. He slid it open with a hiss and stuck his head out.
"Hey, stupid fucker. This is private property."
He flicked on the outside flood light, saw nothing, and left it on while stalking back to the couch. He was about to sit down when he felt eyes. Hawk spun to look out into the lit woods and saw a fox standing there, in a teeshirt and jeans.
"What the fuck. Hey, you, go somewhere else."
"Holy crap, you live here!" the fox said, ears flattening back. He was vaguely familar.
"Really. Y'think. I better live here, because this is my house and you're on private property. Just because I wore a footpath down to the park doesn't mean-"
"Hawk? That's your name, right?"
The wolf's blood ran cold. "Who the hell are you?" He curled his fingers into a fist.
"You don't remember? I'm Chad. From the other night?" The wolf stared, Chad's ears staying back. "Uh, you know, you and that uh, other wolf kind of did me in some weird abandoned-"
Hawk thumped his palm into his forehead. "Shit. Okay, yeah. But what the hell are you doing here? I didn't tell you where I lived."
"I was out for a walk!" the fox scowled.
"Hmmph."
"I got curious, you know? Because there was this path, and I wanted to see what was at the end of it. I wasn't expecting a wolf."
"Don't just stand there, come on in. I'm not that much of a jerk to leave you out there."
Chad walked in, tail nervously down against his rump. "Huh. Nice little place.... big tv..." The fox wandered around the couch, taking a seat and sprawling back.
"Do you think you own this place or something? Flopping down on my couch like that before I offered?" Hawk said, narrowing his eyes and looking down his snout at Chad. The fox's ears pricked up.
"Hunnh? It's comfortable."
Hawk slid the patio door shut, latched it, then pulled the blinds. Chad's ears went from up to back. "I invited you into my house. Guess what that means?" Hawk stalked around, heading for his trunk, then took a detour back. "Take off your clothes."
"Yes, little fox... do as the wolf says."
Lupine and vulpine both swung their heads over to see Alzarre emerge, swaggering and so riled up drool hung from his bare fangs, from a closet.
... to be continued!