FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The hard-packed ground trembled beneath Vanier's feet. Dust and hot air swirled in the wake of the settling ship, its atmospheric repulsor jets easing it lower until the extended landing gear kissed the dirt like a long-lost lover. It was a thing of the stars--bulky and not suited for dynamic maneuvers, its angular planes and red-splashed fins speaking to its origins. A mark eight Nanking Collective mid-draw cargo vessel, the name 'Silver Dancer' emblazoned in Common on the side.

Right on time.

Vanier ran a hand through his hair, smoothing the dark, whipped-up locks, and gave his formal wrap a quick dust-off as the shuttle's hatch lowered, a ramp extruding to the ground with a weighty thump. He had no need to be nervous, yet the drop of sweat rolling down his spine had nothing to do with the sun beating down on his back. Twenty-three years in Mevek heat was ample time to be used to it. He just needed a deep breath, and one, two, three…

Figures emerged from the darkness of the ship, two walking, one gliding, the fourth oozing. Vanier barely glanced at the human, sinvari, and the bird-like itya accompanying the lead figure. Wearing only a silver modesty wrap around her midriff and hips, a husky, tan-furred churran strode toward him, a small satchel looped over her shoulder. A gold earring glittered from one rounded ear atop her head, and as she neared, she let out a guttural chuff, her lips skinning back from her dark muzzle in an amalgamation of her native and the Common expressions of civility.

"Marquis," she said, her accented voice a low, guttural rumble akin to the shuttle's engines, "The day is well."

"The day is well," Vanier responded. "A pleasure to see you, Captain, though you know that the title of Marquis is not mine."

"Your father is here then?"

"No, though he shall return this evening."

"Until then, you speak for him." Another chuff, this one higher pitched--amusement. Her muscled shoulders rolled, loosing a muted pop. "Unless that's changed since our last visit?"

Vanier smiled. "No, you are correct of course." The formality was like an ill-fitting wrap, but there were too many eyes and ears here. "Please, your crew is welcome into the estate to refresh themselves as always." He glanced at her three companions, offering each a nod. "The staff are aware to accommodate you in any way required." Behind the group, more beings were emerging from the ship, a crew as motley and mixed as the greeting party. "You will be staying the night, yes?"

"As usual." Taller than him by at least a head, he would be in her shadow if the sun weren't at his back. Her amber gaze pinned him, a flick of her ear flinging spirals of golden gleam. "Your hospitality is… welcome."

Vanier barely contained a shiver. "Of course, Captain." Dragging his eyes free, he gestured at the satchel. "Shall we discuss this visit's transaction then?"

She nodded, grunting assent. "Lead the way."

***

The door to the estate's smaller study had scarcely closed behind them before Vanier was abruptly seized about the waist, shoved up against the wall with a loud thunk and pinned, helpless, while his molestor buried her muzzle against the base of his neck and inhaled long and deep.

"Ow! Easy, Kesh!"

She mumbled something in Churrek, which he only half understood as, 'quiet, busy'.

"Keeesh," Vanier complained, squirming as her bulbous canid-like nose snuffled up along his cheek, under his ear--followed by a quick flick of wet velvet that drew a gasp from his throat--then ducked lower.

"One of these times you're going to get us caught."

"Don't care. You smell good." A sharp fang skimmed his throat, sending a shudder down his spine. "And you said your father isn't here."

"Still. Any of the staff might talk." Vanier wriggled a hand down to her thick shoulder, scritching lightly. A raised, semi-circular hardened patch ran beneath his fingertips. "This is new. Were you in another fight?"

"That?" She snorted. "A nick from a Nung-gi pirate crew who made the mistake of trying to board us. Earned a hefty bounty for the corpse of their captain."

Vanier swallowed hard. "I know you can protect yourself, far better than I can, but…" The mottled pattern of darker tan was more visible when her pelt was ruffled, and how she kept it so satin-soft, he'd never know. "I just wish--"

A low chuckle cut him off. "Reff-hek, rava." How did that translate to Common again? Something like 'small time', or 'little problem'. "Your worry amuses me."

Her spicy scent tickled his nose--like cloves, but more earthen. He shook his head. "I missed you too."

"You got no idea." Without warning, she let him drop, ignoring his yelp. She stepped back and waved a clawed hand. "Clothes off. Now." Following her own command, she cast aside her modesty wrap, exposing her marsupial's pouch stretched across a trim midriff, athletic thighs, and the swatch of light, downy fur surrounding her crotch.

"What's the rush?" Vanier took a moment to catch his breath, despite the growing tightness in his undergarment. Something about the way she took charge… "You're not usually this… ah, abrupt."

A low growl rumbled in Kesh's throat. "Because I'm fucking… what's the word in Common? Hot?"

"Well, you are, but, not sure that's what you mean…"

Her growl ratcheted higher. "Y'know, when a female's bunkarr. Mating primed. Young-ready."

"Heat?"

"Yes! I've been stuck with just toys and sims for a rash-kra week of ship time! Do you know how that is?!"

"Of course not, but I imagine it's terrible." He hid a grin. "Though you do have a sinvari on your crew who might have helped."

That brought a barking laugh, and a playful shove that nearly knocked him on his rear. "As if! Legendary bed-mates they may be, but slime does not clean well from fur." Closing in again, she gave his erection a firm squeeze through his wrap, her other hand plucking at his shoulder. "Now, off, or I rip them!"

Chuckling, Vanier complied, doffing his wrap and undergarment before her hungry stare. The hairs on his arms rose as she growled approval, before stalking to the desk and leaning over it, exposing her shapely rear and swollen netherlips. Wetness glistened on her dark flesh between the obscuring tufts of fur. His cock twitched, the enticing site drawing him in like a tractor beam.

"You should come with me," Kesh said as he placed his hands on her hips. A thick mane of dark fur ran from the base of her neck to her waist, and he'd usually love to pet it, but she was in no mood for foreplay. "No need to hide on my ship."

"You know I can't do that. Father would disown me."

"Fuck him." Their sexes met, his tip notching into the small 'v' of her entrance. "Fuck me first."

"Yes, he's a bigot, but he's still my father. We really must work on your civility phrasing."

She snorted, muttering a word in Churrek. Her hips rolled, and they shared a sigh of mutual pleasure as he slipped into her heated tunnel. "Better."

Vanier leaned over her, gradually sliding deeper. "I want to," he whispered as their hips met. "You know I do."

"Then do. And don't stop."

"I'd lose my inheritance." A powerful squeeze of her inner muscles made him gasp. Taking the hint, he began to thrust, revelling in each inch of her satin walls, her incredible heat surrounding his sensitive flesh. "I'd be worthless."

"Not to me."

"Kesh…" Every time, it was the same argument.

A low growl vibrated through her. "Less talking, more fucking."

"As the lady wishes." Vanier's grip tightened on her waist. He drew back, prepared to ram himself home.

The study door crashed open behind them.

"I knew it! You worthless piece of space-shit!"

Vanier jumped, slipping free of Kesh, a phantom bucket of ice-water drenching him. No… Heart in his throat, hands fluttering to his crotch, he turned towards the voice.

"And you! I thought I had raised a proper man, not a snivelling xenophile. Couldn't pay one of the city's doxies to get your dick wet, could you? No, you had to bed a fucking animal, in my house!" Clad in a dark blue formal wrap, Vanier's father stood rigid in the doorway, fists clenched and shaking, his lined faced reddening.

"Father, I--"

"Not. A. Word! You!" The Marquis jabbed a finger to Vanier's left. "We have no more dealings. Ever. Leave now, and I'll refrain from finding reason to call the magister!"

Kesh's presence loomed over Vanier's shoulder. Vanier started to raise his hand, to object, but she shoved in front of him, planting her feet and crossing her arms over her chest. "Call them," she growled. "I'll explain that you would break your supply contract."

The Marquis' face purpled. "You filth…" His hand slipped into his wrap. "You think you can sleep under my roof, corrupt my son, and I'll pay you for it?!"

"Father, she's not--" Vanier's eyes widened as his father's hand reappeared, holding a compact plasma pistol.

"Quiet," the Marquis spat. "This mess is your fault, boy." He levelled the pistol at Kesh.

"No!"

Kesh tensed, but Vanier was already in motion, diving in front of her. Green fire spat from the tiny muzzle. Pain seared into Vanier's chest, white-hot sensation overwriting conscious thought. Dimly, he felt the floor crash into him. From outer space, Kesh howled in rage. The scent of ozone and burned meat tickled the edge of his perception.

Funny, he'd never thought dying would hurt quite so bad.

There was a shout, a crash that was probably loud. Someone screamed. He couldn't see. Oh stars his chest hurt! A short, sharp snap. Silence.

Warmth claimed him, cloaked him in the fading darkness.

***

Cold. Why was his back so cold?

Vanier blinked. Eyes? Yes, he had eyes. He squinted against sudden blinding light. His chest was cold too, and wet. Why would it be wet?

Muffled sounds. A voice? He blinked again, attuning to the brightness. A dark shape hovered over him, two rounded fuzzy bits twitching over a long muzzle and amber eyes. Such pretty eyes…

Kesh!

Gasping, Vanier started to sit up, only to be shoved down by an unyielding hand. Cold metal below him. A table? Yes, and the wetness on his chest was a med-patch, hooked up to a tube of pink nano-gel.

"Don't move yet, rava. You'll live, but you need more time."

"Wha--" Vanier worked his tongue over dry lips. His chest still hurt, but the ache was dull and distant. "Where am I?"

"Aboard my ship. Two hours' jump from Mevek."

Memory surged. Kesh. Them. His father. That flash of green fire. His skin crawled. "Kesh… What happened?"

"I had to kill him." Her muzzle was set, those amber eyes hard. "I'm sorry, rava."

"No…" Vanier's throat tightened.

"I didn't want it like this. I wanted you at my side, but…" She growled. "You must understand, my mate."

Ice. He was made of ice. His friend, his lover, had...

"I'm truly sorry." Her hand touched his cheek. "Please, rest."

Somewhere deep inside him, a beast howled, raging to rise up and strike her, claw wildly until she was beaten into bloody scrap, somehow avenge!

"Rest."

He must have tried to rise again, because she was pinning him back to the table. Vanier's jaw clenched. Rest, of course. How easy to rest when one's world had been rent asunder. The beast within strained, urging him to strike.

Muttering under her breath, Kesh reached out of his view. Something cold pressed to his neck. Vanier shivered, tongue catching on words to shout, to curse at her, to protest. Darkness rose again, innumerable fingers dragging him down.

"We will talk later, rava."

That they would. Vanier's hand curled into a fist.

He just needed time to find the right words.