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Uncharacteristic Audacity

The song of the crickets faded into near perfect silence when Canimus covered his ears with his headphones. He leaned over to grab his phone from his rucksack, plugged the jack in, then scrolled through his songs until he reached "Skysplitter."

A more than decent name. Better than what he could have come up with. 'Fang and Claw', the band he assisted as an audio engineer, improved its album naming skills the more popular they became, as if seeking to please even the minuscule crowd of naysayers that called the band's name bland and unoriginal.

Bland and unoriginal.

Canimus chuckled at the ridiculous remarks, the cheers of the Phoenix crowd too loud to hear those whiners who specifically attended the concert to badmouth his band. Curious strategy, to help support a band by buying tickets to its concerts, then attempt to discredit them.

Then again, major anthro rock bands like his tended to have a passionate crowd of fans and more than a few vocal minorities who had nothing better to do than talk trash about each song.

That was where Canimus came in. Notebook rested atop his lap, pen in his right hand, phone in his left, his job was to polish each demo Nathan delivered to him to perfection. 'Skysplitter' was the latest album of Fang and Claw, meant to come out roughly a month from now on. Tight schedules meant that Canimus had no choice but to burden his backpack with extra necessities like the notebook in his lap and listen to the damn thing, while in the middle of the freaking Grand Canyon National Park.

"Pah, time off," he scoffed, his barbed tongue running across his long, feline whiskers. "There's no such thing as time off. No rest for the wicked."

And with that, he took in a deep breath, pressed the 'play' button on his phone, and immersed himself into the energetic tunes of the first track.

His notes on its composition flowed across the blank paper. Criticism on its overall layout, suggestions on where to let the drums slow down in order to leave the lead guitar room to shine; nothing escaped Canimus during his meditative trance.

When the first track finished, he put the sound on hold and opened his amber eyes to glance through his notes. Fine, at least most of them. He crossed the final remark on lowering the bass. On second thoughts, the first track needed to evoke strong emotions within the crowd, to blow them apart. That's what Fang and Claw was about. No half measures.

He listened to the second track as well. Then the third, fourth and fifth. By the time the sixth rolled in, Canimus' back ached and his ass turned raw from the dried, hard packed ground.

"I should've gotten a freaking pillow," he said to himself, groaning as he got up to stretch a bit and rub sense into his thighs.

Was the ground always this hard, or had his twenty seven years of age started to catch up with him?

"Pah, as if." Canimus shrugged off that thought as he ran a paw along a lean, muscular arm.

For an audio engineer, Canimus took care of himself more than others who shared his profession. Muscles rippled under the broad dark stripe running through the middle of his torso, shattering into thinner ones that ran along his back, tail and thighs. His front side, apart from the stripe marring his chest and the two similarly colored rings surrounding his elbows, looked conspicuously empty, his fur bearing the same tawny shade one could expect from a lion.

Only, Canimus was no mere lion, but a smilodon, with strong, angular features and a ruddy, short trimmed crest that ran along his nape. The two sabertooth fangs characteristic of his species curved inwards ever so slightly, only a few inches long, not nearly enough to be too cumbersome.

At least most of the time.

His stiffness gone, Canimus assumed his cross legged position once again, his bare toes flexing as he set the notebook in his lap. As soon as he equipped his headphones, the smilodon took in a deep, customary breath, trying to fall into the same trance like before.

This time, his thumb froze an inch above the 'play' button on his phone, his nostrils flared and twitching. That wasn't dust he smelled, but something sweeter, fainter, and curious enough to make his eyes snap open.

He knew what that was; it stirred his heart, made the blood heat within his veins, the fragrance much too alluring to be just a fleeting occurrence.

It was heat. Had to be. A female cougar's heat, to be precise.

The distant yowls confirmed Canimus' suspicions, barely audible to his perked ears. He smiled to himself at those pleasant calls, so rich and full of want.

"Hope she gets what she's after," Canimus said before returning to his duty.

This time, his pen didn't glide across the page. The discrepancy between the instruments was there. All he had to do was write it down. Yet, whenever he tried to put his thoughts down in a cohesive manner, the proper words and terms fled his mind, scurrying away like a mouse from a predator. Try as he might to claw at them, they simply refused to grace his thoughts.

Canimus gave himself time to get back into the groove with tracks eight and nine. When the latter ended and he wrote nothing but two pathetic lines versus the page from the first five, the smilodon removed his headphones in frustration and began pacing around.

That damned smell. Those distant calls. They toyed with his mind and body, making him grow within his shorts as he pictured the cougar in question being mounted by her pair. Maybe that was why her yowls acquired a higher pitch.

"You freaking lonely bastard. You're into cougars now, eh?"

So what? More than one of his fellow band members mated with a species similar to theirs. The tug of a feral creature who desired to be bred had the same effects on an anthro. That was why Canimus' own equipment resembled that of his feral counterpart, and that was how things worked. No point in questioning it.

Unless you happened to be one of them purist humans who had nothing better to do than find flaws with the way society handled anthros and ferals.

Canimus strolled over to his sleeping bag, glancing at the rustling tent flap every now and then. Close it to block off the biting touch of the spring breeze?

He decided against it, the fresh air instilling a sense of peace within him. Besides, his sleeping bag was more than well endowed, and so comfortable Canimus' head cleared as soon as he rested it against that incorporated pillow.

Five more days until you have to return to that concrete prison, he thought, twiddling his thumbs underneath the blanket. _Five more days, and you've barely seen the Grand Canyon. Can't the demo wait, for once? You still have a month to go. _

No. Once an audio engineer went down that route, his job was forfeit. Phoenix was a resounding success thanks to his hard work, and "Skysplitter" would sell millions of copies in pre-orders. For that to happen, he had to clear his head, write down his notes, and give Nathan something to work with, sooner better than later.

Easier said than done. With that cougar yowling her availability every five seconds, Canimus found it hard to rest. He shifted from side to side, trying to find that sweet spot for his erection to subside, but her scent continued to creep through the tent with each gust of wind, making Canimus' loins shudder with longing.

"Why are you so obsessed with her? She's probably a frail thing entering her first heat."

That explained why she cried with such arduous desire, so late into the night. Canimus' heart swelled from her persistence, the high pitched tune music to his ears. He had always found virgin felines utterly adorable during heat, and wanted nothing more than all of them to get a proper, caring mate to introduce them to a world of pleasure and, most importantly, constant relief.

Eventually, tiredness claimed Canimus' senses, the sleepless nights prior to the concert catching up to him.

He woke up with a pounding headache and the meanest of morning woods. Soft hisses fled through Canimus' clenched jaws as he pushed aside the blanket to reveal his impressive bulge, all of that hard, barbed meat packed into too tight and narrow confines. For a moment, he considered pushing his shorts and boxers down for immediate relief, but the thought vanished from his mind when the cougar's thinning whimpers greeted him again.

Blasted damnation. Did that creature ever sleep?

A wry smile formed upon Canimus' lips, full of genuine appreciation towards her perseverance.

"Seems we've both spent the night on our own, little cat," he murmured, ruffling his crest a bit before cupping his face into his palms, hoping the smoothness of his pads would lessen that nasty headache.

It didn't. The darkness before his closed eyes only made it worse.

He knelt before his rucksack, pulling out a plastic box filled with today's breakfast and a coffee thermos. One didn't simply prepare new coffee, not while his temples throbbed harder and louder than the drums from the "Windward" track.

His hands filled with his morning meal, Canimus strolled outside of the tent, the cold breeze of predawn rushing through his coat and making him shudder. Not because of the cold; that was manageable. But due to the cougar's aroma, a tad more potent than the night before.

It danced in front of his nostrils, within them, several ethereal strands that tugged at his being, urging him to throb lustfully, like any male in his situation would. Her cries didn't help either, that jarring pitch both a blessing and a curse to a smilodon who came to the Grand Canyon National Park for rest and relaxation.

"And instead, I have a yowling cougar for company, heh."

He sat crossed legged in front of his tent, sipping a mouthful of stale coffee and lifting his chin to breathe in the crisp morning air. Iridescent hues streaked the horizon, the fiery stripes contrasting with the tame blue hues of the vanishing night. What was it, like 6 AM? Something like that, way too early to be up and about.

If this album doesn't become a bestseller, I'll blame you, Yowler, Canimus thought as he took a bite from a ham sandwich, the bread mushy, the meat tasteless.

Canimus distracted himself from his scant meal by taking in the scraggy hills surrounding him from every side. The canyon wasn't even visible from where he made camp, his first thought being to start from the fringes and move towards the good parts with each passing day. It sounded good in theory, but the constant yawns proved Canimus just how fit he was to start the day.

"Fuck it. Jogging it is."

After tucking everything back into the tent and latching his phone onto the support tied across his arm, Canimus broke into a light dash, his bare paws offering him more mobility on rough terrain than any pair of shoes ever did.

He rounded a hill, climbed another, then shifted towards a patch of trees, following the dense bushes littering the otherwise barren landscape. Some of them bore faint, musty scents, while a select few made him stop in his tracks to blink his eyes and take in deep breath of crisp, cougar heat. Up close, the aroma was so pungent it made his eyes water, forcing Canimus to shield his nostrils with a paw and look around with wide eyes to make sure nobody was around to notice his raging erection.

Fuck me. You're ruining my trip, Yowler.

His sarcasm fell flat against the promise of fertility her scent offered. It supplied Canimus with more information than he cared to know: her age, the fact that she had never mated before, her hunting prowess, the sharpness within it confirming the good health of this most successful cougar.

Most of her scent marks were days old, the creeping silence surrounding Canimus suggesting the width of her sprawling territory. One of the scent marks lured Canimus towards a tree, the smooth bark drenched with a fresher layer of pheromones, barely a day old.

"Grrrr," Canimus growled, his lips trembling as a snarl etched upon his face. His member pulsated within his boxers, a droplet of pre wetting their smooth texture as Canimus' heart skipped a beat from its pungency. So intense. So delightful.

His claws shot out from their sheaths, and, after scrutinizing the area one more time to make sure he was alone, Canimus ripped a piece of smooth bark that he quickly tucked into the pocket of his shorts. A memento of Yowler, nothing else.

Canimus didn't jog on the way back to his tent. He simply strolled, one paw hidden within his pocket, his fingerpads rolling over the piece of smooth bark to rub off her scent upon his finger pads. Every now and then, Canimus brought them to his nostrils, hissing whenever he took a deep breath filled with a lonely cougar's lust.

Poor, horny thing. To spend day and night calling for a mate that might or might not show up. It was well known that the cougar population within the Grand Canyon National Park dwindled, most of the cats being forced out of the areas opened to tourists. With such wide space to keep them apart, it was no wonder that cougars needed days--perhaps even weeks--to find one another.

This one must have moved on towards the better parts of her territory as well, as only the buzzing of insects greeted Canimus back at his camp. The smilodon paused in front of his tent, his fingers curling around his memento, his chin aloft as he peered over the horizon.

"May you find what you seek, Yowler. I'm sure going to miss that sweet voice of yours," he said under his breath, then unzipped the tent's flap to trudge inside. Stale smells greeted him, heavy from the various foods he packed into his rucksack. Canimus let the tent flap open for the tent to air as he drank a whole water bottle, gasping for breath once done.

"Fuck. Should've packed more of these." He only had two of them left, courtesy of his assumption of finding an underground spring to refill them.

Not that it mattered. Given how poor last night went with the scribbling of notes, Canimus was about to hole himself up in his tent anyway, and only come out when he had the necessary feedback to pass on to Nathan.

With that thought in mind, Canimus grabbed his notebook from a corner, lied down onto his left side to rest his sore limbs, and resumed his duties. The eleventh track, "Storm of the Ancients," sounded more or less okay. It began with a strong drum solo to continue the build-up from the previous track and ascended into a great mixture of guitars and powerful lyrics. Great stuff, all of it. Canimus' pen flowed across the page, adding various suggestions on how to keep the crowd's suspense in check during the middle of the song, only to blow their minds apart with the grand finale.

"Whoo," Canimus cheered, dropping the pen to slap the notebook in a makeshift clapping motion, too lazy to remove the fist he rested his jaw upon. "Kept the best for last, as always."

Only two tracks remained, "Ascendance" and "Whipping Lightning." Canimus tapped his phone to resume the remaining songs and immersed into the slow buildup.

No. Far too slow. Give it more drums, more energy.

He wrote that down, then replayed the song to check for bias and make sure it wasn't just his preferences that got into the way of things.

Yowler's cries broke through the faint guitar strings, forcing Canimus to pause it, perk his ears, and shift his head in the direction of the sounds.

Utter silence.

Canimus gave her a few heartbeats, excitement welling within his stomach. She was back, for some reason that eluded his mind, and that took his mind away from the songs as he pictured a wandering cougar who sprayed bushes and yowled her intention to mate.

Come on come on come ooon, I wanna hear your sweet voice again before I go back to work, he thought, his fingers sliding up and down along the length of his pen with obvious excitement._ _

All he heard was the flapping of his tent rustling under the wind's caress. Disappointing.

He replayed the song from the start, but those yowls meandered through the lyrics, molded with the guitars, interrupted the fast rhythm of the drums in the most jarring of ways. Canimus removed his headphones, waiting for her voice to fill his ears with bated breath.

Again, silence.

"First you're fucking with my notes, then you're messing with my head, eh Yowler?"

Canimus dropped the pen into the notebook, then placed his phone on top of it before retreating to the corner of the tent, away from his sleeping bag. He had to clear his heavy head, and deal with that budding and too distracting erection. He hadn't jacked off since he first set foot in the Grand Canyon National Park, and his member was still slick with pre from the trip back and one too many sniffs at his heat-ridden fingers.

He shifted onto his back, shoving away his shorts and kicking them off. The boxers followed up swiftly, a growl escaping Canimus as his member sprung from its flexible prison, glistening from the shafts of light falling through the tent's air vent. It left his sheath completely, the thicker, rougher barbs around its thick base tensing up in unison with his throbs, while the softer ones coating his tapered tip appeared as nothing more than tiny, barely noticeable formations.

Before he grabbed himself, Canimus scooped his shorts over with a foot, hooking his claws onto them and slipping a paw inside the pocket to get the piece of bark out.

"Ah, Yowler, if only you were an anthro...." his shuddering voice trailed off as he pressed his nostrils upon the smooth patch of bark, taking in a deep, trembling breath, snarling from the pungency of Yowler's scent. So sharp, with a strong bittersweet tang that reflected her wild, feral nature.

It worked even better for Canimus, its potency coaxing his member to spasm and push out a glob of precum that Canimus used to get his palm nice and wet. Then, after leaning back, with the piece of bark pressed against his nose to constantly inhale Yowler's arousal, Canimus grabbed himself, hissing from the touch of his soft pads upon his rock hard, barbed member.

"Ghahhhh," he gasped, claws jutting from his toes to rake at the bare ground. A week without his palm upon his member left him more than sensitive and needy down there, even the faintest of touches making his barbs flex and quiver, their rough texture contrasting with the comfortable touch of his leonine pads.

He brought his fingers around his six inches length, gripping it, then squeezing hard enough for his breath to cut and a fierce snarl to etch upon his lips. Trapped within such tight confines, Canimus' hips began to jerk and thrust between his fingers. His motions were brief and erratic, his strokes too weak to make a difference. It provided nothing more than glorified teasing, really, so he spread his knees further apart to remove the temptation of thrusting and allowed his paw to do all the work.

No--not his paw, but Yowler, an anthro version of her. Canimus imagined her crouching in front of him, her paw clutching his length while her hazel eyes bore into his. A cocky smile appeared on her face, emphasizing the perfection of her delicate cheeks and muzzle.

"You like it, don't you?" her gaze seemed to say, that pink tongue of hers rolling around that shapely muzzle speckled with nuances of white, black and brown.

By all the gods, she was gorgeous, and also truly and utterly naked.

"Yes, I like it, but not more than I like you," Canimus murmured, his wrist freezing upon his shaft while he imagined Yowler giving off a musical chortle before straddling him. One leg on each side, her supple form towering above him, those wet lips dribbling with juices.

"That's it. That's what I want, for you to lower that gorgeous slit upon me," Canimus growled, squeezing himself tighter to emulate the feeling of her folds as they engulfed him.

"Now tame me, queen of the wilderness," Canimus said, making a reference to one of the band's more erotic songs. "Show me what the wilds have to offer."

A much too tight grip, so comfortable around him that Canimus had to grit his teeth to contain the spikes of pleasure rushing through his groin and sides. He threw his head back, unleashing a feral growl as his shifted his wrist up and down with soft, steady rhythms, picturing Yowler's thighs rolling across his groin with flowing movements.

The scent of heat filling his nostrils only served to numb down his mind, tricking him into believing that an anthro cougar actually mounted him in the most erotic of ways. His eyes closed to maintain the blissful illusion, Canimus dabbed the tip of his tongue at the piece of bark, wiping away some of that pungent fragrance and carrying it into his mouth. His lips immediately pulled up into a fierce snarl, her taste divine, just like her rippling folds around him.

"Harder. Grrrr, harderrrrrr."

Canimus noticed her eyebrows perk within his mind's eye, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. That needy, perverted cat; she knew exactly what he meant, but decided to keep him on edge, infuriatingly close to his climax yet so far away at the same time.

His tongue rolled across the strap of bark again, tasting her heat in its earnest. The sensitive barbs covering the middle of his tongue onwards were particularly susceptible to a female's pheromones, their potency forcing Canimus to squeeze his eyes shut while he emitted a constant, thinning growl.

"I want to cum," he rasped, imagining her thighs rocking across his groin, harder and faster with thundering beat of his heart. "Make me cum. I want to cum inside you, nghhh." His words trailed off, fading into the shuddering growl rippling through his throat.

Canimus clenched his jaws. His toes curled inwards from the fiery tingles rushing through his length with every throb, and his nostrils widened to take in deep, wheezing breaths. His peak loomed before him, brought about by the swaying motion of Yowler's hips. Damn, was she a tight and snug fit. Her insides molded around him perfectly, pure silk against his rough barbs, and she rode him faster and harder than any feline had the right to.

By pressing the strap of bark against his nostrils, Canimus smelled nothing else but her heat, so rich and intense that his member lurched within his grip, his barbs flaring, his girth swelling with seed.

Then, he burst, deep within the confines of his paw.

Canimus' deep roar heralded his release, the strings of seed pelting the sensitive pads of his palm. He formed a ring with his thumb and index to stroke the sharper, more prominent barbs of his base to allow his tip to send lances of white smilodon essence up into the air. After a week spent without the hope of relief, his jets had enough strength to them to splatter against the roof of the tent, creating thin, ivory splotches that dribbled down onto his abs and groin.

"Ghaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah," Canimus groaned after his throbs subsided, blinking his heavy eyes. Strength slipped from his limbs, leaving him drained.

Canimus remained there for a moment, sprawled across the ground, milking the last of his seed out of his member while running his thumb over the rectangular strap of bark. A crude thing, soft on the exterior and rough on its other side. Dead, useless wood to some, but to him, a relic.

I needed that, Canimus realized, running his clean paw over his face to rub some sense into his brow and cheeks. _Needed some quality time to myself. _

And Yowler?

Canimus chuckled at the thought. The feral version of her, the one that earned her the nickname, had no interest in him, most likely. She had her own kind to keep her company. It was just a matter of finding them.

Meanwhile, Canimus had to wipe off the traces of his loneliness. Or should. Even scratching his ear seemed like a chore, much less get up and grab some tissues.

In the end, the brisk wind that began to cool off the seed staining his fur urged him to roll onto his fours and trudge over to his rucksack. With his clean paw, he fumbled for the tissues, crumpling several into his fist, then using them to wipe himself off. The slick fur around his groin and some areas of his abs still clumped in patches, but Canimus shrugged his shoulders and growled at the prospect of using water to rinse himself. No way, not when he only had two bottles left.

After hurling the stained tissues against the opposite wall of the tent, Canimus' gaze settled on his notebook. A strong sense of revulsion filled him, guiding him towards his sleeping bag, where it faded into a pleasant numbness.

"I'm too lazy for my own fucking good," Canimus said. Tucked under his blankets, not even the bright shafts of the early morning sun slipping through the tent's air vent could disturb him. He made sure to place his sleeping bag away from them, his rectangular tent wide enough to allow him some space to move. He hated those small, round, claustrophobic tents where you had to squat constantly until every part of your body ached. Fuck that.

He closed his eyes, and fished for the strap of bark to place onto his pillow, right beside him. The scent that coated it faded a tad, but it retained enough of its strength to enthrall Canimus. If only her yowls rang through the hills to lull him to sleep...

I'll search for her, Canimus decided. _Once I'm done with this demo, I'll find her. _

And then what? What would an anthro smilodon have to share with a feral cougar, apart from glancing at each other from a safe distance?

Canimus shrugged off that thought, creating a more inquisitive cougar within his mind, one that was brave enough to stroll into his tent.

His mind latched onto that particular thought, offering him a dream more vivid than Canimus ever had. Yowler's customary cries and muffled growls filled his ears, making him lift his head and peer towards the exit of the tent. The faint rays of moonlight creeping through the air vent of his tent supplied his feline eyes with enough light to discern her features, along with the fierceness glowing within her emerald eyes. Such a rare and striking color for a cougar, to have eyes the color of the forest.

His heart leapt in his chest, excitement oozing through him as she stepped further into his tent, the flap flowing across her majestic features, caressing them, emphasizing her muscular haunches and strong, flexible tail.

Yowler swung it from side to side, sniffing around, her growls fading into smothering mewls as she inched closer to Canimus.

He stretched a hand towards her, but she stepped back, hissing softly. A fierce sound, yet weighed down by doubt and a tint of raw desire.

For him? It couldn't be...could it?

"Come to me," Canimus murmured. "I'll pet you, kiss you, love every inch of your beautiful body."

Pathetic. Even Yowler interpreted it as such, arching her tail across her back with disinterest before strolling out into the night.

When Canimus next opened his groggy eyes, the white sunlight bore such a sting that tears welled within them.

"Gah. Fucking messing with my mind. Dream of night time, when in fact, it's fucking noon."

Canimus wiped away his budding tears, thinking back on that somewhat magical dream. Not as satisfying as he expected, yet Yowler's reluctance made her all the more desirable to him. Even in his dreams, she had a fierceness to her, reined in only by her desire to be with a male of her kind.

And if she didn't find a cougar male to sate her lust, Canimus could always--

"Mrowl, rrrooowl, rroowl," her cries came from outside.

Canimus whirled on his feet towards the exit of his tent, his frame tense, his blood boiling with a perverse thrill at the intensity of her calls. So loud! His twitching ears pinpointed her location based on the pitch of her cries, which put her....

"Somewhere outside my tent," Canimus said, scalding blood filling his cheeks, making them redden under the layers of tawny fur. Yowler. Outside his own freaking tent!

He took a step forward, only to turn around and reconsider when another moaning growl heralded Yowler's desire to breed. The scent of her heat crept through the air vent of his tent, stronger than ever, enough to urge a paw to drape his nose to muffle it, lest he became erect at the most inconvenient of times.

She was a wild animal. Untamed, probably unused to visitors who crossed her territory. One bold move, one reckless decision could put both of them at risk.

And yet, each of those jarring sounds tugged at Canimus' heart, her want for companionship all too obvious. That poor horny thing must have looked far and wide for a male before tracking him down.

She did track me down, Canimus' realized as a fiery jolt crept through his spine. Why else would she be somewhere in the vicinity of his tent, when the outward areas of the Grand Canyon housed more prey for the cougars?

With soft, careful steps, Canimus headed towards the exit of his tent, his shoulders low, his posture crooked, his temples pulsing with raw excitement. He set his jaws upon one another, holding his breath as he stepped outside of his tent before releasing it in a drawn-out sigh.

Nothing but dust and shrubs in front of him and to the sides.

Maybe she's beyond that hill to the left, Canimus thought, his ears flicking to pick up her lustful growls.

Only, there were no lustful growls to pick up. As if on cue, Yowler fell silent, suddenly playing hard to get.

"Not that hard, apparently," Canimus observed. One deep breath laden with her scent pointed Canimus towards the valley to the right, stirring his member in the process. He only managed a few strides before the bothersome erection forced him to fall into a steady gait, too slow and tedious for an overly excited smilodon.

Every fiber within his body prickled from the promise of meeting a female cougar in heat, and her heat already coiled around his head, smothering his rational side, instilling an audacity uncharacteristic of Canimus within him. In his determined state, the album seemed but a distant thought, his trek to the Grand Canyon National Park nothing but an opportunity to track a wild cougar who, in spite of her silence, wished to be found.

He found her at the foot of the valley, one hundred feet or so away, basking under the welcoming shade of a scrawny tree, its leaves so dry the dapples of light urged her to coil into a tight ball. The wind shifted, blowing from Canimus' back, his scent rousing Yowler from her slumber, making her ears perk and her eyes shift in his direction.

Canimus froze, his heart turning to the size of a pebble when faced with such imposing predator. Those hazel orbs sparkled from the shafts of light creeping through the boughs, shining with intense wildness.

"Rrrowr?" She growled, her head flopping to the side, her nostrils widening to loosen out a drawn-out exhale.

So adorable! Canimus' fingers clenched and relaxed repeatedly, his excitement pushing the natural fear of trespassing into a predator's territory at the back of his head. If Yowler wanted to attack him or drive him off, she would have done that by now.

Right?

Every little tidbit of information that Canimus had read on cougars vanished from his mind, leaving it blank, a slate ready to be rewritten depending on how this encounter went. So far, none of the two made a move; Yowler obviously wanted to rest, and Canimus' knees buckled under the pressure of the imminent meeting with the same cougar he dreamt of.

Well, not quite. Even with her eyes closed, Yowler's beauty surpassed Canimus' expectations. Her fur bore a rich, light brown, slightly reddish nuance, contrasting with the shades of black rounding the sides of her white muzzle. Muscles rippled underneath her coat, emphasizing her strength, and the exposed paw pads of her hinds showed their smooth texture. Canimus' heart swelled at the prospect of touching them, of feeling the warmth pulsating through them, of having Yowler's long whiskers caress his neck. She did seem awfully cuddly while resting, her curled form urging Canimus to take a few steps forward.

"Mrowr!" Yowler growled. She rolled onto her belly, regarding Canimus with her piercing gaze, forcing the smilodon to stop in his tracks and swallow the lump that formed in his throat. He opened his mouth to say something, yet no sound came out.

His silence and stiff posture encouraged Yowler to get onto her feet, her head raised to take in his scent. No snarl. No growl.

Her tail flicked casually as she turned towards the bushes growing a few feet away from the tree. She sniffed their thorny leaves with practiced caution, then turned around, lifted her tail like a flagpole, and sprayed her scent onto them.

Even from a hundred feet, her scent hit Canimus like a battering ram, making his clawed toes draw soft furrows across the ground as he shuddered under its might. Crisp and laden with pheromones, it fettered Canimus' senses in an instant, pulling his lips up into a customary flehmen snarl to analyze the sample of potent heat.

As if he didn't know Yowler inside out already. His body skipped through the prelude as well, his member growing to full mast in a matter of seconds, ready to satisfy the fertile female's urges.

"Fffuck," Canimus whispered to himself, bringing his tail around a haunch to knead at it and deal with his nervousness in a more physical way. He could feel his control slipping, the tug of heat so alluring it stifled his doubts, fears, along with most of his rational thoughts. Standing his ground seemed ridiculous when that blissful scent filled his nostrils. Being cautious around a female who turned around to present him with her rump became a far-fetched worry, one that no smilodon should ever consider.

The longer Canimus breathed in her fragrance, the thinner his excuses to hold a safe distance from Yowler became. Acting solely on instinct, he trudged forward with slow, careful steps that picked up as Yowler padded over to the bushes on the other side of the tree to sprinkle them with her mark.

She didn't even pay attention to him, much less show signs of early aggression. Yowler was at total peace with Canimus' presence and, in order to prove that, she lowered herself onto her belly, brought a forepaw to her muzzle, and allowed her tongue to dance between her spread toes while one eye fixated on Canimus.

"Mrrrrrr," her growl rumbled in her throat, deep, powerful, devoid of hostility. Its touch alleviated the stiffness gripping Canimus' muscles, allowed his frame to unwind and his arms to fall to his sides. The pressure within his chest vanished as well, allowing him to breathe in her heat freely for the first time.

"Awrrrr," Yowler remarked with a sway of her head, as if saying, "You finally understand why you're here."

Canimus nodded, more out of habit than anything, and Yowler let out a mirthful growl as she shifted to the side and pushed a hind paw forward to lick with the same slow, methodical strokes. For a split moment, Canimus' gaze raced to the prize nestled under her tail, a speckle of glistening, pink flesh surrounded by a moist, dark patch of fur. His member suddenly tensed from the lewd sight, a glob of pre slithering through his rock-hard length to wet his underwear a stiff, ragged breath later.

"Mraarr," Yowler uttered, lifting her hind leg all the way up, then digging the claws of her forepaws into the ground as she stretched forward to dab her tongue at her sex, throwing Canimus a few glances in between those tantalizing strokes.

That freaking tease. It was as if she was doing it on purpose!

And, to make things more awkward for Canimus, it worked.

With each touch of her pink tongue sliding across her shuddering crevice, warm tingles shot through Canimus' limbs, converging upon his member, seizing it within tight, fiery coils. Canimus had to squeeze his eyes shut and clench his jaws, lest he broke loose into his pants from the too erotic sight.

"Mrr...mraaawwwl."

The mellow cry drew Canimus back to his senses, and towards Yowler's sex, wracked by visible spasms. Her flesh moistened in an instant, her tongue lapping up the juices fleeing her tight entrance. The shivers dispersing through her limbs heralded her climax, and her wrinkled, snarling lips confirmed her intense pleasure.

Canimus' heart leapt in his chest as a sudden urge to help her achieve a deeper pleasure filled him. He felt strangely responsible for her wellbeing, just like he somehow knew that Yowler had no intention of hurting him. Her eyes suggested as much, along with the way she rolled from side to side, so carefree after an unexpected orgasm.

Or did she?

With surprising speed, Yowler rolled onto her limbs and turned to face Canimus, her gaze fixated on the visible bulge he inadvertently flaunted.

It took Canimus a moment to register her intention, her calculated steps tugging at the threads of wariness towards a feral predator within his mind.

"Don't approach me, Yowler. Let's...keep things the way they are," he said, thrusting his arms forward for emphasis.

Yowler's pace picked up, dauntless, her posture lowered into stalking mode, her tail flicking with obvious excitement.

A jolt of irrational panic slithered through Canimus' spine, the product of a lifetime spent in the city. His instincts, roused from their slumber by Yowler's heat, begged him to approach her and give her what she wanted, yet habit overpowered them.

With the corner of his gaze focused on her, Canimus began his retreat, assuming a sideways stance to give Yowler the impression that he was simply backing off. That made the cougar drop onto her haunches and tilt her head to the side, as if miffed by his sudden cowardice.

I don't like it any more than you do, Canimus thought, but this is getting out of hand rather quick.

What was he thinking, going after a wild cougar in heat? The poor, horny thing was visibly smaller than him, and even though she probably weighed more than half of Canimus' weight, the smilodon couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that his curiosity had led him astray.

"You had your fun," he whispered under his breath as he descended a slope. "Now it's time to get real."

Subduing his instincts was no easy task. Every anthro had to battle their primal urges every now and then, and Canimus' member still throbbed with the longing to pierce those delightfully wet folds. Yet, at the same time, Canimus' temples pounded with the weight of his incursion into Yowler's private space, and his heart threatened to burst in his chest from the intensity of their first meeting. The thrill of it mixed with the pang of dread, but the latter prevailed in the end.

She was a wild cougar after all, born in the Grand Canyon, not foreign to strangers and deceptively alluring. Still, appearances tended to play with one's mind, especially where heat was concerned. She didn't truly plan to seduce him; that was just what Canimus' lust addled mind assumed in a most convoluted way meant to justify his own search for relief.

Her yowls quickened his pace, growing louder with every heartbeat.

Curses. Was she following him?

Canimus glanced back, and sure enough, he met Yowler's brownish outline, so well camouflaged in this arid landscape. She stopped in her tracks every time Canimus turned to face her, and resumed her walk whenever he did.

To further test her conviction, Canimus took a detour, climbing a hill, coming onto the opposite side, then sticking towards the sunny parts of the land, away from the shade cougars usually treasured during noon.

Not Yowler. She wove around bushes, spraying her scent upon them every now and then before padding after him at a steady gait.

Why was she so adamant in following him? Part of Canimus' being shuddered with delight at having a persistent female chase him, while his more rational side made his throat tighten due to nerves. Chasing her away meant destroying the tendril of trust she bore for anthros and possibly humans, but it also served her best interests.

Canimus' stomach clenched at the thought. His limbs turned feeble from the mere implications, and the cold fingers running along his ribs only served to stoke his selfish decision.

Let her follow, Canimus thought. She'll see your camp and lose interest in a heartbeat.

On the way to the camp, Yowler closed in the distance between them, her lustful sounds lessening to a purr the closer she got to Canimus. She walked at his side at first, calling to him with her sweet voice. When Canimus didn't favor her a glance, she strode in front of him, allowing her tail tip to brush against one of his hands. He withdrew it from the sudden contact, but the harm had already been done.

When Yowler joined him on his left side again, she inched closer and closer to his stiff paw, poking her wet nose at his warm pads, then retreating a few steps away to lick her muzzle and yowl at him, enticing him to join whatever games she had in store for him.

Canimus straightened his back, retaining his impassive poise throughout the inquisitive nuzzling of his hands, elbows, crotch. A stifled yelp fled through his tightly pressed lips when her muzzle connected with his bulged package, rousing Yowler's curiosity to higher levels. She now began to rub her side against his thighs, her tail flowing across him with fluid grace, the purr rippling through her fluffy neck warm and delightful.

She must have never seen a smilodon before, or any anthro big cat for that matter. That explained her interest in him, the laid back attitude she kept ever since he had first laid eyes upon her.

She's treating me like she does her kind, Canimus realized.

Sorta.

He had never heard of female cougars in heat nuzzling a male's private parts with such vehement strokes. Canimus had to stop in his tracks and fight the urge to grab her head between his paws while her nose shifted across the swell within his pants. She sniffed, licked, even tried to nibble on his shorts before Canimus took a step to the side. His mouth opened halfway, the words weighing his tongue, begging to be said.

A sigh broke loose instead, heavy with all the pent-up thoughts that churned within Canimus' mind. What use did they serve when addressed to a feral animal? Might as well shut up and simmer on the way back to his tent. Cats like her tended to have a burst of curiosity before their focus switched towards more interesting things.

Such as Canimus' tent.

Yowler dashed towards it before Canimus even had the chance to stretch an arm forward and stop her.

"Hey, don't get anywhere near that," he shouted, breaking his rule of not addressing Yowler.

Not that she cared. By the time he caught up with her, Yowler already marked his tent on three different sides with her potent pheromones, the pungent, bittersweet fragrance so heavy Canimus' lips pulled into a snarl as another string of pre left his overly sensitive member.

He half walked, half shuffled towards his tent, his erection making things more awkward and difficult than necessary. Having marked the blue canvas more than enough times, Yowler began circling the entrance, pawing at the zipper, nuzzling it, as if trying to get a hold of the damn thing.

"Leave that. You can't open it even if you wanted," Canimus said, stifling a chuckle at her persistence. Just because he warned her, that didn't mean Yowler had to pay any attention to it, so she kept at it until her purr shifted into a low, irritated growl.

Once Canimus got close enough, the cougar rushed to him, sliding her flank over his legs, holding her head high to brush it against his abs.

"Whoa ah," Canimus uttered, his muscles hardening underneath the layers of fur. Her warm touch tickled somewhat, and her tongue even more so when she licked at his bare belly button.

Canimus' hand fell upon her head instinctively. Before he had the chance to pull back, Yowler twisted her head back to lick the inside of his palm, releasing a high pitched mewl as she pushed her silken cheek into his sprawled palm.

She wanted contact. Yearned for it. Every sound that broke through her muzzle suggested it; her relaxed body posture confirmed it. This was a cougar so fed up with her heat, she had no qualms surrendering herself to an anthro smilodon such as him.

Her affection quickened Canimus' blood. It emboldened him, wiped away his previous reluctance, urged his other hand to rest upon her neck. His finger pads shifted through her short, silken fur with soft, short strokes, the motion so pleasant Yowler fell onto her haunches and dug her head deeper into his other paw, begging to be petted.

Poor, horny thing, to fall for the first anthro big cat she happened upon. It softened Canimus, allowing his features to relax visibly as he lowered himself onto his knees. Once he was eye level with Yowler, the cougar wasted no time in wrapping her paws around his neck and attack his face with fast, enthusiastic licks, her purr meandering through the brightest of hues.

The sudden warmth, coupled with the lovely touch of a barbed tongue upon fur, made Canimus' stomach swell with butterflies, his heart fluttering from the intensity of a lonely cougar's affection. His own tongue poked halfway through, but he pulled it back when Yowler began nibbling on his oversized fangs, growling inquisitively.

"They're not as bad as they look," Canimus whispered as her tongue shifted to his brow, freeing his mouth. "Then again, I had a lifetime to get used to them."

Yowler's paws flowed across his neck and spilled back onto the ground, the cougar turning around and running her silken tail along his neck invitingly as she shuffled towards his tent.

"Hang on, I'll bloody let you in if you just give me a..."

The tearing sound that followed dwarfed Canimus' words, her claws reminding him of just how durable a piece of canvas was against a feral predator.

With the way opened before her, Yowler strolled into his tent, forcing Canimus to lunge forward in his rush to stop her from doing something stupid. Once inside, his heart lodged into his throat when the cougar began sniffing at his notebook, step over his phone, then lie down chest first on top of his rucksack. Her nose shifted through its pockets, teeth gnawing at the fabric to get to the morsels hidden within.

"I'm not sure you'll find anything tasty in there," Canimus said breathlessly. A wild cougar in the center of his tent unnerved him a great deal, considering the way she basically peed onto the canvas of his tent. What if she decided to do the same with his notebook?

Fortunately, Yowler's interest shifted towards the empty corner of the tent, the one opposite to his sleeping bag.

"Yes, sit there. It's nice and shady, yes? That's what you are looking for."

Blood drained out of his cheeks when Yowler began sniffing and licking the ground. No--not the ground, but the traces of seed coating it. His seed!

"Rrrrrr," her growl flared to life, her tail swaying across her haunches with renewed vigor the more she licked. Once done, her gaze turned to Canimus, those hazel orbs freezing him in place as the color of her body reminded him of who he masturbated to.

"Mrowl....." she cried out, pacing back and forth, agitated. Her gaze shot towards the roof of the tent and, before Canimus had the chance to realize what caught her attention, Yowler reared onto her hind paws to swipe at the ceiling of the tent with a paw. She did it again, and again, ripping off the pieces of canvas stained with his seed, trapping them between her forepaws, then licking them clean.

"I...that's just uhm...you shouldn't really..."

Canimus scratched the back of his head, throwing Yowler a stupid smile as she turned around to regard him with big, lustful eyes. Her tongue swept across her lips, caressing her whiskers, leaving her pink nose glossy with saliva. Once again, he had forgotten that words held no special meaning towards a feral, and Yowler padded over to him to show him just that.

Like before, her muzzle sought his paw, her head weaving under it to get him to fondle her ears and stroke her nape. Canimus picked up her cue, using his other hand to grab that persistent forepaw which kept waving at him, cupping its slender shape within his broader hand.

"You're way lovelier than in my dream," Canimus found himself saying, his thumb running over the central pad of her paw. Soft, smooth, and overly warm, the intimate contact stirred Canimus' senses, his tail tip twitching even faster than hers.

Emboldened by the caress, Yowler shrugged her paw free of Canimus' hand and shoved her head into his abs, lewd growls filling the tent.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Mrowr, mrowr, mrowr," Yowler kept crying, pushing her head into Canimus' belly, over and over again. When the smilodon still didn't pick up her cue, the cougar lashed out with her forepaws, pressing them upon his shoulders with such strength Canimus fell upon his back under her surprising shove.

The crash dazed him, making him blink his eyes in disbelief while Yowler's tongue assaulted his face, one set of limbs on each side as she practically straddled him.

"If you wanted to lick me you could've requested it in a nicer manner."

"Mrarr," Yowler responded, licking his neck a few more times before turning around to present him with her shapely rump.

What a sight. Just looking at the way her muscular haunches curved made Canimus pant with lust, the scent creeping out of her soggy slit so overpowering his vision flickered for a brief moment. Yowler lifted her tail, as if privy to Canimus' innermost secrets, then lowered her rump onto his face too fast for comfort. He barely managed to shift his head to the side before her weight pressed against his face, light yet equally demanding, given how Yowler's shuddering frame suggested her inability to support her own weight.

"Ghmmmmh," Canimus blurted out, his mouth filled by the fur of her inner haunch. It was obvious what Yowler wanted, yet the means she used to get it left something to be desired.

Canimus, too, felt overwhelmed by the position he found himself in. A smilodon with a face full of a cougar's rump in heat? He often dreamt of that, of how wildly he would eat a female out.

And now, he had the opportunity.

Canimus' paws latched onto her haunches, his fingers hooking onto her muscled limbs instinctively as he pushed her up a tad to face Yowler's ripe fruit. With most of her weight supported by his muscular arms, Yowler relaxed further, her tail swinging to the side to give him complete access over her pretty slit. It shuddered slightly, the soft tremors racing through her pink lips hypnotizing Canimus. What started off as a more than awkward position now became a most natural occurrence, the intensity of her scent warding off every single one of Canimus' worries, replacing them with the raw desire to tuck into the source of his blissful torment.

He gave her a kiss first, pressing his lips upon her slick fur, dabbing the tip of his tongue at her petite slit, so hot and wet. Yowler's frame trembled, her purr raising a pitch higher as her rump wiggled lightly. Canimus wanted to whisper soothing words to her, to let her know he would do his utmost to see her satisfied, but words fell short when a feral like her simply wanted immediate relief.

Just like Canimus wanted to eat her out like there was no tomorrow.

He started off with soft, short, repeated kisses, letting her juices coat his lips, getting her accustomed to his touch before allowing his tongue to fall upon her delicate crevice. The smoothness of her sweltering flesh, along with the raw taste of her first heat, flared Canimus' lust, his cock lurching to full mast in one single, powerful throb. He never grew so hard, so fast, and the tightness of his boxers made for quite the uncomfortable prison.

No. It didn't matter. His needs were irrelevant. All that mattered was Yowler, and her feral taste that enthralled Canimus' senses. By pushing his painfully persistent throbs at the back of his head, Canimus shifted his focus from his manhood and towards Yowler's gender that practically leaked liquid lust.

He slurped it with one broad stroke of his tongue, snarling from its pungency, holding his breath to trap in that powerful scent within his nostrils. It burned, it stung, it tingled, and it consumed Canimus, a mystifying fire that roused his wild side from a painfully long slumber.

Without inhibitions to hold him back, Canimus pushed his tongue all the way inside Yowler, her yowling cry full of arduous need. She staggered a little, surprised by the sudden tightness that filled her tight, virgin depths. Her silken insides rippled around Canimus' tongue in the most gentle of ways, squeezing at him, molding around him, inviting him further inside with gentle tugs.

Not yet.

Canimus withdrew his tongue, swallowing her rich nectar, his own harsher growl twining with Yowler's sharper one. He clutched her thighs tighter, the tips of his claws biting into her hide to hold her in place while his tongue assaulted her slit. He pushed in all the way inside her, the tremors rushing through her insides begging him to go even faster, even deeper. That was how big cats liked to mate: fast, rough, wild, and Yowler's taste was so divine Canimus couldn't go slower even if he wanted.

He had to drink it all, to flare that haze of delight that engulfed him, to raise Yowler's song towards tones even she didn't know existed. To achieve that, Canimus lapped at her slit with feverish strokes, letting his barbs get her sensitive lips all worked up before snaking his way inside her, stretching those tight walls apart. Once he made it all the way inside, he twisted his tongue, the sudden motions making Yowler squirm with pent-up delight.

A few more swirls of his tongue was all it took for the cougar to shrill her bliss. For a virgin that had never been penetrated before, his tongue proved too much to bear. It was no wonder that Yowler collapsed onto her side, forcing his tongue out of her crevice with a wet plop.

Canimus licked his lips clean, snarling from the strong taste filling his mouth. Virgins always tasted raw, and Yowler was no exception. Her juices were like a fine wine that gets better with age, and in her case, the pheromone laden concoction acquired such potency Canimus could only lie back and listen to the pounding of his heart while scrunching his eyes every time his cock spurted lavish amounts of pre. The oral session brought him to the very edge, leaving him drained, yet lustful at the same time.

"Mroowrrrrr," Yowler's muffled growl came, urging Canimus to roll on his side to face her.

She practically beamed after experiencing her first assisted orgasm. Restless and more than a little enthusiastic, she lied down on her belly in front of him, one paw placed onto his cheek, the other resting atop an arm while she treated him to some of her finest licks.

"Grr, I can get accustomed to this," Canimus said dreamily, his eyes closed, enjoying the slurps of an inquisitive cougar who sought to drench every inch of his face with her affection.

He cracked one open when one of her hind paws connected with his hard member, the claws hooking upon the rims of his shorts with surprising persistence. Still dazed from the awesome experience of eating her out, Canimus didn't realize she shifted onto her side, half of her belly exposed to him, her left foreleg rested atop his neck in a makeshift hug. She tried pulling his shorts down once again with her hind paw, failed, then went for several more tries, making sure to distract him with proper licks, the cunning cat.

Still intoxicated by her taste and scent, Canimus felt giddy enough to give her what he wanted. What was the harm in it, after they already bonded on a more than intimate level?

Just like that, Canimus rolled his shorts and boxers down to his knees with utmost ease. Every instinct guided him towards his moment. Every soothing lick from Yowler across his nose, eyes, and brow encouraged him to go that extra step forward. Yowler, too, lounged on her side, lifting a hind leg to give him access to her private parts without even glancing at his member. Her focus lied entirely upon his face, the cutie so obsessed with wetting his fur with saliva that Canimus couldn't help but trudge closer to her and ruffle the short fur of her nape with a hand.

"Awwrrr," Yowler growled, regarding Canimus with renewed fondness after he showed her a token of his affection. The lethargic swipes of her forepaw upon his frame had a playful, if erotic touch to them, her pads dabbing at his muscular pecks repeatedly.

Canimus allowed her to explore him in her own ways, allowing her forepaws free reign over his abs. After rounding his pecks, Yowler wiggled her toes in a kneading motion, throwing him a warm look that seemed to ask ,"Are you enjoying yourself?"

You're a dream come true, my dear cougar. Better than that, even, Canimus thought in response. Rather than break the immersion of this magical moment with mere words, he advanced upon her frame, rolling his nose across the downy fur of her neck, nibbling and licking at it until Yowler's purr rippled a pitch higher. She stiffened all of a sudden, the forepaws wrapped upon his shoulder blades starting to knead softly while her tail sprawled along the floor invitingly, her lifted haunch trembling with desire, hinting at her impatience in quite the subtle fashion.

Canimus tensed up as well, suddenly aware of what was about to happen between them, yet blissfully numb to it. With Yowler's heat addling his mind, cupping her head in one palm to rub her ear between two fingers seemed no different than fondling an anthro. The earthy scent of her coat bore the same fragrant nuances like any other feline's, and the short dabs of her pads reassured Canimus that, even though Yowler had claws, she had enough control over her instincts to keep them from hurting him.

She might have been a feral, but in Canimus' embrace, this wild cougar appeared before his eyes like the sweetest and kindest of lovers, the brushes of her tongue upon his nose tenderer than any kiss Canimus ever experienced.

During their short moments together, he grew terribly infatuated with her exotic shapes, with the raspy touch of her barbed tongue, with the way her ears twitched under his caress. Her wild aroma stirred his blood like nothing else ever did, and her tail sought to join with his as their muzzles rubbed against each other affectionately, the fluffy tips of their tails intertwining.

Canimus wanted her. Only her. So badly, that he used one arm to bring her closer to his chest while he brought his right leg over her hindquarters in an arch to have proper leverage for what was about to follow. It began with directing his tapered member through the soft fur of her belly, eliciting frail shudders in its wake while Canimus kept Yowler distracted with short, sweet licks upon her cheek.

The claws of her forepaws jutted out of their sanctuary, the sharp tips hooking onto Canimus' shoulders as his tip touched her wet crevice. He rubbed his tip against it, circled that delightfully wet patch of fur before returning upon her hot flesh to tease with short dabs. Her tantalizing heat seeped into his frame, making him shudder with want.

But first, she had to want it as well.

Canimus waited for Yowler to release a soft, needy mewl, resting her head upon the floor and opening her eyes, wild, untamed, her lust rippling within those hazel pools. For a male trapped in the loving embrace of a feral cougar, that provocative gaze was enough to make his blood boil and his cock to throb in anticipation.

She truly was a queen of the wilds, and her rumbling moan that vibrated within his chest awakened a primal desire within him. To show her that he shared in her deep desire to mate, Canimus slid his tapered tip through her tight folds, his motion slow, tantalizing almost. Yowler's lips pulled up into a faint snarl right away, her growl deepening, her claws drawing soft rakes upon Canimus' back. Pain seemed but a distant memory when sheltered inside such wet, sweltering depths, an unnecessary distraction that tried to keep him from fulfilling his deepest, most intimate of desires. Her shuddering walls, too, welcomed Canimus with soft squeezes, the slickness from her previous orgasm easing his passage into her heat drenched tunnel.

Canimus pulled back to give Yowler a moment of respite to process what just happened. As soon as he did, her sharp growls faded into a deep, satisfied purr, her forepaws latching upon his ears as the cougar encouraged him to keep going with fervent licks.

"Mrowr, rowr, rowr," she uttered between each tongue stroke, a rumbling chant reserved to the ears of her lover only. Warm shivers flooded Canimus' frame from its jarring touch, its discordant hues a noise to some, yet surprisingly gentle to his feline ears. They only served to add to this most magical moment, and Canimus wanted nothing more than to sate Yowler's hunger for a mate.

As he pushed half of his member back into her with the same methodical pace, Yowler's jaws wrapped around his neck, the kiss of her sharp fangs quite persistent, yet made bearable by the soothing strokes of her tongue. There was undeniable wildness within her, proven by her love bite and the scratches seething upon Canimus' back. Unlike an anthro lover, she treated him like one of her own, not bothering to keep her passion in check.

Canimus expected nothing less from a queen. With their bodies intertwined and his member engulfed by her cozy walls, he already found himself in a most privileged position. He was her first mate, after all, meant to guide his chosen throughout the joys of mating.

After the first few initial strokes loosened Yowler's virgin walls enough to accommodate the rest of his girth and got her used to his shape, Canimus slid his arms across her back, pulling her tight to his chest, sinking his muzzle into the soft fur of her neck as he arched his hips backwards. Then, in a rapid stroke, he plunged the thicker half of his member inside her, pushing those rougher barbs straight into her untested passage. Her tightness overwhelmed him, the repeated ripples gliding through her muscles pure bliss to his overly sensitive barbs.

Unlike him, Yowler loosened an earsplitting shriek, her fangs wrapping around his shoulder in a tight grip while the tips of her sharp claws pierced through Canimus' hide. His deep growl molded with hers a moment after, the sting noticeable enough to make his muscles spasm and his own claws to jut out of his toes. To his lust addled mind, pain didn't hurt. It registered as nothing more than a faint discomfort and served to enflame his senses, to make him wonderfully aware of where he was and who he mated.

As he pulled out, Yowler scratched him even worse than the first time, the barbs scraping at her inner walls on the way out hard enough to make her spurt a wave of arousal in an attempt to balm the soreness. Those passionate growls made Canimus' heart twist from the fear of hurting her. A virgin like her had never taken a barbed cock before, and she was smoother than silk down there.

Sure enough, Yowler's purr flared to life the second his member retreated from her depths, her form wriggling playfully, her hindquarters pushing against his groin, enticing him to keep going and forget about his absurd worries.

"Mroooowwwwwwrrrrrrrrrrr," she growled with obvious desire, poking her head past Canimus' sides, as if wondering why the thrusts stopped.

"I just...just don't want to..." Canimus trailed off, his shaky words drowned by the needy, sporadic growls that followed. Yowler began nibbling on the fur of his neck, kicking one hind paw at the air while the other slid over Canimus' lower belly, drawing soft gasps from him. Those softer patches of fur were quite susceptible to tickles, and Yowler had no qualms making him giggle and squirm as the claws of her hind paw drew soft furrows through his coat.

He grabbed her haunch, directing her flexible hind paw to his side, close enough to twist his head and plant a kiss upon her smooth, coal black pads. Having a better grip on her haunch, Canimus spread it just a bit to make more room for his groin before sinking balls deep into Yowler.

They both shivered in unison, each of them growling their deep pleasure in their own unique ways. Yowler's feral cry mingled with Canimus' softer one, creating a pleasant harmony which stirred the smilodon in all the right ways. His grip tightened upon her haunch, just as Yowler's fangs sought his other hand to bite onto, as they both readied for the final stage of the mating.

Intent on making it a thrilling and genuine experience for Yowler, Canimus closed his eyes and set his jaws firmly upon one another before his hips began pumping at her haunches, driving his feline rod in and out of Yowler with fluid dexterity. Every fiber within his body tightened from the waves of pleasure battering his frame, his breath coming out in ragged gusts as he pounded away at her narrow slit, stretching her, getting her wetter with every thrust.

Sure enough, the abrupt strokes flared her cry to a constant shriek. The pleasure mingled with the pain brought by the scraping motion of his barbs, keeping Yowler tense and unusually agitated, the poor virgin uncertain whether she should simply disengage from her mate or wait until the finish. In the advanced stage of her heat, Yowler preferred to lie still--well, mostly. She couldn't help herself from squirming a little, biting or clawing at Canimus to show her discomfort with his barbs.

Yet there was also great pleasure at being filled, at finally receiving a feline cock designed to scrape away her bothersome itch. Canimus could feel her walls quaking around him, the hot spurts of female cum drenching her tight depths as the virgin cougar climaxed from the sheer intensity of the mating.

Canimus didn't stop there, nor did he shake his hand out of the steely grip of her fangs. She bit him so hard he was almost certain there would be blood, yet pain became irrelevant when his erratic thrusts filled him with overwhelming amounts of pleasure.

It felt so good, to spear through those quivering muscles; to lodge himself balls deep inside her, to pierce her innermost sanctuary. His whole frame trembled from the electrifying jolt that raced through his spine, and Canimus paralyzed for a brief moment from the intense spike of raw bliss that welled within his groin. He wasn't quite there yet, but Yowler squeezed him so hard already, her claws dug so firmly into his back, and her earsplitting shriek attained such high pitch, it sent Canimus over the edge.

The smilodon collapsed upon his lithe lover, roaring his muffled delight into the fluff of her neck as he spilled himself into her. Yowler's chant subsided for a fleeting moment, her limbs twitching from the onrush of delight brought about by Canimus' short, powerful spurts. They soothed her loud yowl a notch, that exquisite feeling of hot seed pelting her oversensitive depths stiffening her frame.

Filled to the brim with a male's essence, Yowler relaxed visibly. Her paws fell to her sides, and her glowing purr replaced that loud, passionate cry from before. Canimus' own mind lurched from the aftermath of the mating, every ounce of strength he had pouring into Yowler's overflowing slit with every faint throb that ran through his spent cock.

She couldn't take his entire load, of course; some of it trickled down her rump, coated the base of her tailhole, smeared over Canimus' groin, painting his fur a glossy white.

"Ghaaah," his mighty groan broke past his shuddering lips. Never in his life had he been so weak after a mating, so infuriatingly numb. Even twitching his tail tip seemed like an arduous task, much less get up from Yowler's embrace to roll to the side.

And why would he?

The cougar seemed at peace with Canimus' chest draping her features, only her head poking out past his shoulder to lick at his nose with lethargic strokes.

"rrrRRRrrrrRRR," her purr swayed, flowing in a rhythm so suave Canimus found himself grinning from ear to ear.

"Yowler's a stupid name for a queen of the wilds such as you."

She agreed with a faint growl, then bumped her nose into his, as if demanding to know what Canimus had in mind.

"Lanela?" He blurted out the first name that crossed his mind. It flowed on the tongue, its touch melodic, just like her purr. "Is that better?"

Lanela didn't care for her name. Her attention shifted towards Canimus' palm, the raspy touch of her tongue making the smilodon flinch at its contact with his abused pads. No blood coated their surface, and her tongue strokes did little to alleviate the ache. He didn't stop her; with her head splayed on the side, Canimus had easy access to an ear, which he gave a long, fulfilling lick.

"You're the best thing that came out of this vacation, Lanela. Do you know that?"

"Rarr," she growled, pressing her forepaws upon the back of his head to push him deep into the fluff of her chest.

Soft laughter filled Canimus' tattered tent, his fur tingling, his heart soaring from the warmth shared by their merged bodies.

By Cheetahs