Depth
Kaulynn and Franz haven't seen each other in over a month.
Kaulynn smoothed her palms on her skirt, a gesture meant to hide that she was wiping the sweat from them. She had been here many, many times, though she had only come here of her own volition once. She reached out with firm fingers to grip the door handle, leaning her shoulder into it to open it. Was it lighter, or was that just her memories, wrapped up with her feelings of the last time she was here? She shook her head, her strawberry, chocolate and cream striped hair tucked carefully in a bun on her head, shaking away the thoughts, only moving forward.
His house was surprisingly clean, considering that he lived here alone. He never struck her as a cleanly person, but she imagined that had something to do with his background. Were all K9 officers as orderly and neat as he was? Or was it just that he didn't spend much time at home? She tried not to let herself become wrapped up in simple thoughts like those- she knew she was just trying to distract herself from what she'd come to do. Whistling in the dark, where in this metaphor, the dark was walking into the den of the monster who consumed her, over and over. Why was she here again?
"Well," Franz said behind her, standing in the open frame. She let go of the door she was still holding, turning to face him. Handsome as ever, with the markings of a pure breed, his muzzle full of gloriously sharp teeth. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him. "I see you're back, cowgirl."
"I thought I would check on you," she answered, her voice high, light. Was it fear? Was it excitement? "I hadn't seen you in a while and I was worried-"
"I've been busy," he answered, taking a step toward her, violating her personal space as if he had a claim to it of his own. She noted that his tone was regretful, pained, as she took a single step back. He followed her, keeping a scant few inches between them. That was as far as she was willing to give. She knew he was doing it to bother her. He can't treat me like this, she thought to herself, puffing up as if to berate him. I won't let him bully me this-
"Could you give me some room? I'm trying to get out of the door." She blinked a few times, realizing he wasn't quite out of the swing of the door he was trying to shut.
"Oh. Oh! Of course," she answered, hooves dancing lightly as she backed into the living room, away from him. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"
"Don't apologize," he said quietly, swinging the door shut behind himself without so much as a look over his shoulder. He crossed the brown carpet, reaching out with both hands. He moved so quickly it was as if one moment he was at the door, the next he was holding her shoulders, lowering his muzzle, lapping at her ear. He didn't bother to speak for a moment, cleaning her ear, making her shiver with the sensation of that muscle circling inside of the sensitive shell. After a few moments, he pulled away. "Have you been taking care of yourself?" His voice was quiet, simple; she didn't know if she'd ever seen such an intense side of him. Where was her playful puppy now?
"I've been trying," she answered, her voice barely more than a sound on the wind of her breath. He grunted an affirmative, wriggling his slick tongue within her ear as if she tasted unbelievable. Her fingertips stroked his chest, bare- he was wearing only slacks. He was so often without a shirt... "I can't say I've done... as well of a job as you would have..."
"No one could," he answered, pulling away from her ear. A small line of saliva stretched from his mouth to her ear, snapping when he licked at his black lips. "We have some catching up to do."
She nodded. Her triggers were simple, and he knew them all. But for once, he didn't seem to be trying to rile her up, trying to get under her skin. This was one of the rarer times; one of the quiet times. She found her will dissolving, found herself recognizing the need in him. She was a healer, after all, sensitive to the needs and feelings of others. And whatever had kept them apart had been unpleasant. She wondered if it had something to do with the hearing, the investigation... She didn't ask. She didn't need to know. She only knew that he was still Franz, and that whatever kept them apart must have been awful. She tilted her head and flicked her other ear in offering; he smiled and attacked it, lapping away at the inside, cleaning her. She crooned for him, giving him her voice, a very special gift. His paws, so large and menacing, found her shoulders, squeezing her close. Gently. Carefully. And she melted into him, liquid against his hard muscles, his strong grip.
They stayed that way for a while, both quiet, merely drinking in each other's presence. The last time they'd been separated for a only a week; it had seemed like an eternity. They practically leaped onto each, and awoke in each other a passion that was almost unquenchable. Almost. Twelve long hours and countless bruises and scrapes had finally brought them relief.
Now, things were different. A quieter need. Almost a pain between them. Too much time apart, and she could feel it. He had needed her. Well, he might not say it- certainly wouldn't say it to her, in kind words- but when he finished with her ear, he reached down with his arm, scooping her legs up against him, carrying her like a princess- like his princess- to his bedroom.
She didn't speak. She didn't want to break the almost holy quiet between them. A world of emotion, a world of sensation, all of it held between them in electric silence. She lifted her chocolate muzzle, brushing her lips gently against the underside of his jaw, against the side of his muzzle, the black-and-tan of his fur giving her outlines against which to stroke her face. He brought her to his bed, carefully setting her on the edge, letting her feet dangle.
He knelt before her, sweeping his hand along her cheek, down to her neck, gently squeezing her throat. She tilted her head back, her eyes sliding shut as she yielded to him immediately, giving him control. All her easy defenses were gone, replaced only with the growing passion, the care, the adoration. He removed his paw, instead tracing a line around her throat with one digit, and she shivered when she realized what he was doing. That he was drawing an outline, a circle. The ghost of the collar he meant to place there. She finally met his gaze, saw the hunger there, and swallowed, letting him feel the flex of her throat, one he was no doubt so familiar with. Oh, Franz,_she thought, her eyebrows knitting, her expression shifting. _I missed you...
He rushed forward, his lips on hers moving with a heat and greed, her expression lighting a fire within. His tongue thrust into her mouth, one of his hands fisting in her hair. She didn't object, surging to meet him, lacing her fingers behind his neck as if desperate to hold him to her. So easy to stand apart, to hold herself aloof, to fight him. So much harder, so much more honest to give in, to let her pain at their separation slip into the space between their mouths, to mingle with the passion and desire they both felt climbing. He was here, he was here, and she felt a tear slip along her cheek, relief and need for him overwhelming her for just a moment.
He didn't make a sound as he pulled away, kissing across her cheek, kissing the tear away, and she tilted her head up toward the ceiling, the pain exquisite, the relief sublime. She brought her arms down around his back and squeezed him, tightly, and he did the same, lifting her from the bed with the strength in his arms. Rather than put her down, he slipped his other arm around her ass, picking her up again and climbing onto the bed, pushing her down into the mattress. He shrouded her, engulfed her, and she answered by crooning softly, wrapping her legs around his waist, trying to force them close, as close as possible. She sobbed once, her breath hitching in her chest, relief overwhelming her, and he kissed her again, as if to smother the sound as he smothered her body. She held him, even as she fell into the kiss again, her eyes closed tightly, unseeing. Her hands fanned out, running hard over his back, feeling the familiar planes of muscle, the curve of his spine, the delicious weight of him flattening her.
He made a small, quiet sound, a little whine, breaking the kiss to nuzzle into her neck, and she swallowed, taking a deep breath. She scratched her nails along the fur of his back, feeling him bow in against her, his hips perfectly aligned with hers. And she felt him against her, the head of his immense dick pressing against her panties, somehow beneath the skirt that had rucked up over her thighs as she wrapped her legs around him. She was consumed with a need for him, to be as close to him as she could, and she knew he felt the same way, licking at his neck, coating her in his spit, cleaning her as he did. Bathing her in affection.
She brought both of her hands to the front of him, forcing a tiny bit of space between them by planting her feet to either side of his hips and rolling her pelvis against his. She reached down, fumbling with the clasp of his belt as he lapped at her flesh, pulling the button open. Before she could get any further he pulled both of his arms from behind her, propping himself on one hand carefully placed beside her ear, the other expertly pulling him free of his slacks, sliding the tapered tip of his red cock against her sodden panties. He rocked back and forth, pressing the fabric between her lips, against her entrance, heedless of the sensation, his teeth bared in a grimace. She didn't want to wait for him; instead she pulled the panties aside with one hand under her skirt, the scent of her arousal strong in the air. The clean, hungry scent of her, wanting him, missing him, needing him. Her mouth opened, the sheen of saliva on her lips as she held the fabric out of the way- and he ignored her entirely, snagging his claws in her panties and ripping them off of her with an unbelievably loud tearing sound. She nodded up at him, all but begging him with her eyes, and despite how long it had been, despite how unbelievably big he was, there was nothing slow about the urgent thrust of his hips, the way he breached her entrance like he was going to tear her apart.
She gasped, eyes wide and unseeing as she tried to process the pain of being so forcefully stretched, so forcefully opened, the way he was already pushed against her cervix after one deep dive between her thighs. Her hands jerked up to his chest, clutching him, the overwhelming combination of sensation and emotion ushering several more tears from her eyes. He bent down, lapping at her eyes, tickling her, kissing her, one paw sliding along her blouse to flay it open, revealing her bra beneath it. He attempted to free her tits from their confines, but she brushed his paws away, sniffling and unhooking the front latch, spilling one chocolate- and one strawberry-colored breast before him. He took each in a paw, fondling her roughly, licking her face, coating her in spit. He didn't stop even as his hips rolled back, spearing forward, slamming back into her completely.
She was unable to help herself- she threw her head back and crooned. She was already past her limits- but adding the sensation of his thick, red dick pounding into her, pistoning deeply already as if to remind her of her rightful shape, she couldn't stop the flow of tears. She couldn't do more than hold on to him, her hands on his shoulders, or on his chest, or wrapped around his back to scratch furrows in his fur. She couldn't tell if she was trying to spur him on or beg him to slow down; she was lost in a sea of passion. When she threw her head back, he went back to lapping at her neck, to licking along the lines of her throat, her jaw, her chin. He propped himself up on his arms, then, held himself above her as if afraid she'd break, thrusting into her with an almost punishing pace, filling her over and over, stretching her again and again.
It was too much, and yet not enough. She wanted him still, missed him still, as if she'd grown so used to dreaming that every knock on her door was him, as if she'd grown so used to wishing every call was from him, it was as if he wasn't here. As if he was still gone. Even as he made room inside of her for himself, as he burrowed within, she wanted more. Tears poured down her cheeks, but it was a purge; she felt relief, even as her need for him grew. She blinked her eyes open, watching his every muscle flex, ripple with exertion as he pounded harder and faster, and she knew he felt the same. The humidity of them, her unending wetness sluicing along his cock, dripping along his body- the way his breath seemed to steam against her fur, to leave dewdrops of breath behind, all of it came together to build in her stomach, in her shoulders. She reached up to grab one of his ears, tugging it down to bring his face to hers, kissing him with an almost drowned sound in her throat. She pulled until he was curved against her, pressing her down again with the familiar weight of his chest. He must have moved his legs somehow because he was still within her, moving, if anything, faster, and each short motion made her want to screech, set her nerves on fire, drowned the sound of her screaming heart with a tide of pleasure. With the reassuring feeling of him on her. With his fur sticking to hers with the heat and slickness of their bodies joining almost violently.
Her blood was pounding in her ears. She had to fight to work her muscles, so well trained, to ripple around his delicious doberman dick, to suckle him, to show him how greedy her body was for his. She crooned, quietly, into his ear, washing it with the warmth of her breath as she washed his thighs with the pulse of liquid that sprayed from her as she came closer and closer to a looming orgasm, building in all her nerves, all along the calves that tensed against his hips, wrapped around him. Every pounding second only built that pleasure, the pressure in her middle, that electric current of greed and need that she had come to depend on him to relieve. Her cheeks flushed, bright and warm, her breasts pressed into his chest, taut and firm, and every deep slam of his glorious fucking only brought her more and more relief, only purged the pain of their time apart further, only brought her closer to a magnificent crescendo.
The silence between them was filled with small sounds of desire, of need, pants and gasps as he coaxed her closer to where he wanted her. He was an enigma to her, but she knew the desperation in his fingers, in his mouth as he swabbed her mouth with his long, slippery tongue. She could only open herself to him, could only greet him with the rise and fall of her body beneath him, could only give in.
And she did.
She gave in and yielded to him, to his will, to the way he fulfilled her, and the instant she let go, she came, tensing around him, soaking him once more in her fluids. God, it was so good, it was like they were in perfect sync. Like her world was a darkness lit by a thousand pulsing points of pleasure and all she could do was hold onto him, desperately clutching him, greedily pulling him close and crying out, yelling silently. The flutter of her heartbeat, the way she stiffened, held perfectly still beneath him but for the rhythmic demands of her pussy as it clung to him like hot, steaming velvet, her hands frozen against his fur was all he needed to know that she was ready.
The earth-shattering spank of his knot on her lips, the schluck of his dick deliberately pounding her entrance were the only sounds, everything spinning, crashing, destroying her. She spilled her secrets, warm and hot, against his balls, a slurping inferno. And with a heave and a growl he managed to force that expansive knot; the extra force pushing the tapered tip of his cock into her deepest sanctuary, boiling white cascading from him, sluicing along the walls of her womb, filling her with his scent, his mark, his name. She tried to scream, overcome, but her voice was muted, gone; she only managed one word, breathed against his mouth:
"Daddy."
A short eternity, then.
An aeon briefly lived.
He poured jet after hot jet, rope after rope of thick cum past her deepest walls, his knot expanded, locked beyond her entrance. Tying them together, against one another, bright deep cock swallowed perfectly in strawberry softness, neither able to move, neither wanting to. She gripped his neck with both hands, pressing tiny kisses into his cheeks, his snout, his mouth- he curled a paw into her hair, licking at her, anything he could reach. Love and desire and desperation they never spoke of, never dared, both too proud or too scared to speak of it. Instead they showed each other, hands and paws and thighs and mouths caressing and nuzzling and gripping each other- a world of time suspended for them, breathing each other's breath.
Her tears seemed to have stopped, though when, she couldn't say, replaced with the soft lap of his long, sweet tongue. She rippled around him, sheathed within her still, every slowing spurt inside another delicious feeling, his cock pulsing where she cradled him, where he belonged. And she finally smiled, his tongue finding her lips, drawing her into a kiss. Lingering, sweeping, stealing her breath and making her head spin with the depth and caring held within their mouths, she gave herself to him completely, thoughtlessly. This... This was everything... And oh how she'd missed it...
She finally pulled away, dragged his head down with her slender fingers, pressed the length of her own tongue against the dagger of his soft ear. He seemed to melt against her, no longer able or interested in keeping off of her at all. He groaned as she assaulted him, slicking his ear, adoring it. Finally, as her breathing evened, as her heartbeat slowed, she breathed a whisper into his ear.
"I'll never ask you to promise not to leave me," she murmured before turning back to kissing him, to giving him her affection, as best as she could. He seemed to stiffen against her, the smooth curve of her belly well aware of the tension that rocked through him. She continued to lick, to soothe. "I'm just grateful for what we have."
And as so often happened between them, as always seemed to occur...
They left all else unsaid. The yawning chasm of their feelings, the pain they'd struggled through while apart, all of it seemed to slide so easily into the past, into the silence where they kept such things. Their mutual adoration, the way they fit together like pieces of a puzzle, the way they moved under one another's skin... The passion, the ecstasy, the drama of their violence... Those were the important things. In this moment, all else was unnecessary. All else was distraction.
The world was a big, complicated place, and within the safety of their skin, each of them held a world of their own. His dark, messy, confusing- hers full of volume after volume of aching mystery. And slowly, they had given each other more and more of themselves, until now they held between them a sanctuary. A safe place. Where they could lick each other's wounds, where they could purge themselves of violence, of the craving for violence.
It was vast. Bigger than either of them now. And it needed no words.
When the red was gone from her eyes, when the tears were long past gone, but while they were stuck together, he raised his muzzle and wrapped his teeth around one of her horns, worrying it. And she laughed. She tried to grumble, but she laughed, and they were home. At least for now, they were home.