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Hunger

Written by Amethyst Mare (Arian Mabe) for Darkfox88

WARNING FOR HARD VORE!

On a Sunday afternoon with nothing important to do and nothing unimportant on the agenda, the bachelor's petite flat was quiet, though not unoccupied. A homely dwelling, it was set in a sturdy block of three, but with a match on - rugby, the most popular sport of the lonely town - none of the neighbours were in, off sporting bright jerseys and painted muzzles to watch other furs injure themselves in the name of sport.

The red fox, who rented the abode, set aside his game console controller and flicked his ears with a decidedly bored expression on his narrow muzzle, which was flecked sweetly with brown spots. He pushed his round glasses up his nose and eyed his gaming partner seated across from him on the blue sofa, which had been a lucky find from a local recycle and reuse centre. Living alone was not the most financially sensible of endeavours but everyone had to strike out on their own at some point. Leaning back with a sigh that could have swayed the most devout of furs, the coyote closed his eyes against the fox's boredom. He had heard it all before.

Complaining could become tiresome. And that point of becoming tiresome had passed long ago.

The coyote's stomach rumbled and his eyes snapped open, blue lenses stark within the soft, layered brown of his muzzle. He leaned over to the red fox, tail tip twitch twitch twitching. Old friends became something new after time. And the fox's time had elapsed.

"I can think of something we can do..." He whispered, lips brushing over the fox's quivering, pointed ear.

"Oh, can you now?" The fox rubbed his forearm, t-shirt rumpling across his chest. "And what would that be?"

His muzzle wrinkled sadly.

"I have not exactly been the best host to you today. There just doesn't seem to be anything to do. I'm sorry."

In silent response, the coyote rested his paw on the fox's thigh and leaned in closer, lips nuzzling and kissing across the line of the fox's jaw and up to his ear. Huffing breath into the quivering flap, the coyote traced the contours of the interior with his tongue, dipping inside until he wriggled it into wax, close to the fox's ear drum. He rumbled a growl and flicked his tongue up, teasing the interior until the fox whimpered softly, eyes wide and bulging within their sockets. Sitting stock still, the fox curled his paws into the sofa cushions and moaned, head tipping so that it fell against the back of the sofa, jaws dropping apart, slack in open enjoyment. Only the coyote knew about this secret pleasure of his, the sensitivity of 'certain' body parts of his.

His cock strained against the confines of his clothing, not unnoticed by his partner. Smirking, the coyote eased his paw between the fox's thighs, the back of his paw rubbing over the growing bulge there, tenting up through tight jeans that could not conceal a male's arousal. He worked his way down the fox's muzzle, taking his time, until he touched the fox's warm lips in a kiss, tongues flicking together albeit briefly before focusing on more delectable treats. The tip of the coyote's tongue curled into the fox's nostril, warm breath flaring into his mouth, and he murred to himself as he tasted the sweetness within. What would have been off-putting to another fur stoked his lust into a roaring fire, uncontained by pit or hearth.

The fox melted into the sofa cushions as he played with his lusts, the palm of the coyote's palm curved around his cock. Looking down, the coyote smirked at the visible outline in the fox's jeans and nuzzled in once more, flicking his tongue into the other nostril, that little curve that could be the doorway to so many erotic pleasures. He could not understand why more furs were not familiar with these especially wicked delights, but he was a 'yote of many pleasures and talents when it came down to it. He rubbed, a rough caress, as he tickled the inside of the fox's nostrils in turn, stifling his moans and groans at the taste. He would never tire of this play. The coyote's eyes fell closed as he lost himself in the moment, the fox pressed against him and pre cum soaking the pad of his paw, a heady scent that roused him all the more. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry and wanting.

Kissing his way back up the fox's jaw and cheek with nips that made him quiver deliciously, the coyote sought out the second twitching ear. It flicked, trying to evade the sharp prick of his teeth and warm breath, the scent of meat curling between his fangs. He caught it between the canines and growled, tugging with an insistent pull that sent shivers through the fox, brush fluffing up in response. Snuffling, he thrust his snout halfway into the ear and took in the sweet, clean scent of fox, the softer hair inside his ear tickling in a way that he could not have claimed was unpleasant in the slightest. Dipping his tongue luxuriously deeper, the coyote slipped his arm around the back of the fox's neck to hold him still, lapping over every crevice of his ear with nothing short of revere.

The fox trembled, putty in the coyote's paws, and tilted his head in closer so that the coyote had a better angle from which to derive his pleasure, using the vulpine's body as he pleased. The tongue teased and stroked so wonderfully that there was not a muscle in his body that wanted to move away, bar natural instinct to flinch away from the mild ticklish sensation - that could be overruled. Hiding his muzzle against the coyote's chest, the fox whimpered as his ear was nipped and nibbled, nose still hyper-sensitive from the devout licking he had received only a few minutes ago. His body wanted more and he arched up into the coyote's paw, begging without words as only cub-like whimpers passed his lips. There was no greater pleasure than to be used, at least in his mind. If only he knew how true that was...

Despite the distraction of their play, the coyote's stomach growled, an insistent rumble that struck through his abdomen and stirred deeper, instinctual need. The coyote needed to feed.

He turned his gaze on the fox, the intensity of his eyes making the vulpine shiver, yet staunchly kept his gaze level and even. Only the very tip of his red and white brush flicked restlessly. It was as if he knew what was going to happen and was giving the coyote permission that his lips would not utter. It was not conventional for a fur to desire such things, not if they were whole, happy and healthy.

The fox was all of these and still he bowed his muzzle gracefully, accepting his fate from a predator higher up the anthropomorphic food chain than he.

"Please..."

He whispered, the words half-stuck in his throat so that he could not be sure whether the coyote had truly heard him or not. What followed answered his question, however, and the fox's heart pounded painfully, threatening to break free of his ribcage. Soon, it would beat in the open air, if but for a heartbeat or two.

The coyote parted his jaws and snarled, lips curling back from his teeth in a ferocious display of dominance. Ears pinned back to his head, the snarl flickered into a smirk and the fox whimpered, bucking his hips up into the paw cradling his crotch, pre cum soaking through his jeans. Shuddering, the coyote ripped the t-shirt from his prey, baring the fox's white splashed chest to the cool air of the flat, heaving with frantic, eager breaths. His jeans and boxers - designer, a nice touch - met a similar fat, shreds of fabric splayed out around the vulpine as if he was now a presented offering. If he was an offering, the coyote was there to take him. The fox closed his eyes and the coyote lunged in, jaws opening wider and wider.

His fangs closed on the fox's shoulder and, although it was not the most delicious part of his prey, ripped loose a chunk of flesh, meat and fur stripping from bone as easily as he would open a bar of chocolate. The fox flinched, eyes flashing with pain, and thrust into the coyote's paw, which closed around his shaft and pumped the hard rod of fox-meat until the vulpine could no longer find the distinguishing line between pleasure and pain. He shoved the fox down on the sofa so that he could feed at his pleasure and tore into his chest, opening up the cavity of curved ribs to the open air. Muzzle questing lower, he turned to the fox's stomach and thighs, paw ever working around the fox's hard, lusting shaft as pre cum marked the back of his paw. Bucking and twisting between the erotic and that which threatened to darken his experience, the fox cried out, though his shriek went ignored.

Pre cum dribbled over the coyote's paw but he hardly noticed, so intent was he upon the meat laid before him. The fox reached for him with shaking paws, the light of life quickly leaving his body, but he brushed them aside, swallowing mouthfuls of meat with gusto. Each mouthful tore a little more life from the fox and the coyote stripped his thighs of flesh, reaching down to the muscle, which he chewed luxuriously. The fox's glasses fell to the floor as his head slumped to the side of the seat cushions and he no longer found he had the strength to hold his body up from the furniture. He panted harshly, eyes glazing over. His time was coming.

His world darkening, the fox whimpered as the light of the waking world dipped further and further from his snout and raised his paw to a brighter world as his cock erupted, spurting cum over his stomach and thighs. The coyote snapped up the fine treat, crushing the fox's shaft mid-orgasm, and tore it loose, still spurting, only for the sausage to disappear down his gullet in one gulp. Next were the fox's balls - no part of his meal, after all, should be wasted - and he let the seed splatter into his muzzle, draining down his throat like a fine, matured wine. He dove into the fox's stomach, pulling loose intestines to gobble down, intent only on the meal he was consuming and not the fox who had once been his friend.

Friends had to serve their uses, at least in his world.

And then the fox was gone, life snuffed out as the coyote growled to the suddenly silent flat, lowered his muzzle to the corpse and continued to eat, chest and muzzle soaked with crimson blood. The metallic taste on his tongue drove him into a feeding frenzy and he held down the body as he tore flesh away with wild abandon, stuffing himself with meat straight from the bone that was still hot and pumping with the memory of life. The bones were not forgotten and the coyote cracked them between his teeth with great relish, gnawing on the tougher pieces until they succumbed to his hunger and lust for sustenance.

The blood stain on the sofa spread as the pile of fur, flesh and bone that had once been a fox with a pulsing heartbeat became less and less, evidence destroyed as the minutes passed. The clock on the wall ticked, marking the passage of time, but the coyote had no reason to hurry in the consumption of his feast. Though every feast would, eventually, have to come to an end, if for the simple fact that it was always limited by the fur he devoured.

With a full, sated stomach, the coyote rested back against the sofa, licking blood from his chops. Not a scrap remained of the fox, now resided safely within his belly forevermore. In his devouring, the fox would become a part of him, strengthening the coyote and furthering his life until he was ready to feed again.

Only time would tell from where his next victim would be derived.