FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Zev's unit was finally off shift for the next two days. He'd gotten a quick bath and brushed his brown fur; being a wolf meant less sweat than a human, though he wasn't sure he preferred that when it meant working tangles out of the damn coat. Inaya was getting herself groomed and cleaned, which was taking longer. Normally it'd be his responsibility as her rider and partner; sometimes, like now, she liked to treat herself to the professional hands—especially when there was a break. And that was only the start of comfort as the Guild's expedition put down roots. Being able to stretch out on a real bed in a large tent instead of a pop-up hammock was a nice luxury, one he fully enjoyed in the silent moments before she returned. Not that Inaya was unpleasant to be around—far, far from it. It was just that she had certain little fancies that could clash with peace and quiet—

"Oh Zev, something very strange has happened."

And there it was.

He leaned up enough to look down-muzzle at his erstwhile mount. She was an admittedly splendid Seikret, one of the raptor-like beings of the Windward Plains. They were native to the region and stalwart companions of the Windsong villagers—and after seeing the Guild's prowess, a good number had volunteered to help the expedition. Like the palamutes in Kamura and the ubiquitous Felyne friends, they were all thinking, speaking beings. It made coordination between mount and rider that much easier.

It meant he could ask: "So, what happened?"

"I seem to be in the grip of a tremendously strong heat cycle. It's a wonder I can think at all." While her snout and chin were a firm beak, she had enough control of her lips to have picked up smiling—though her current expression seemed more like a smirk. "I need a strong, virile male before I go mad."

Zev studied her with a critical eye. The groomers had done a good job with getting her plumage in order; long azure feathers swept back from her crest and neck, and the same shade highlighted the edges of her wing-arms. Shorter teal feathers covered her back and down her thick tail—the former were only saddle-worn to a trained eye. Green scales with dark striations covered where feathers didn't, with tan hide on her belly, inner thighs, and undertail. Not that he could see that now, though he could remember it quite well.

Communication also meant certain other bonds were possible. He wasn't sure how many others were intimate with their Seikret partners; it wasn't forbidden or even frowned upon, but so far, other couples and flings had kept things pretty quiet. As had they, though 'quiet' tended to end once they had privacy. Particularly with her imagination and spirited tendencies.

"I didn't think Seikrets had heat cycles," he said, raising a brow. "And you don't appear on the edge of madness to me."

She huffed and padded up to the bed. "I'd like to be. I just want to forget about the ecosystem for the rest of the evening." Her amber eyes drifted over his shirtless torso. "Unless, you're still sore from that Chatacabra?"

"I'm fine. The potion did its magic." He lifted a hand to caress her muzzle and neck. "We are very much due for a break. What about you? You weren't gone long enough to get a proper rubdown."

Her gaze flicked away, and then back. "I... admit I could go for one, if you don't mind." Mischief returned to that expression after a moment. "Particularly since someone likes to lean over every five meters to grab herbs and mushrooms."

"Hey, we need it. How much trouble am I in?"

Her head tilted by a degree. "You're not in trouble. Should you be?"

"I'm just trying to get a sense of how much mischief I'm in for."

"I am very serious, I'll have you know." She nipped at his forearm, only barely catching the fur. "If you're not in the mood—"

"Oh, I am," he said. "I just remember our last break, you needed help with new tail exercises." Ones that coincidentally had him under said tail—naked, and then there'd been rubbing, and...

"They worked very well, wouldn't you say?"

He wasn't going to complain. He did, however, start ticking off on his fingers. "The night before that, you needed food but had no way to pay for it."

"You were very generous."

"The break before _that,_you were nursing me back to health from a terrible injury." He'd had a bruise on his side, barely visible under his fur.

"Exercise is an important part of recovery!"

"Then the time you decided to 'ride' me, the experiment with nonstandard monster grappling, the... wait." He stopped, and with one hand full, he used the other to point an accusing finger. "You've used 'I'm in heat' before."

Inaya's eyes widened, and then narrowed in a wince. "Shit. I suppose it was inevitable."

Zev resumed stroking her neck. "I do love your creativity. One of these days, though, you could just ask. You know only an actual injury would keep me from saying yes."

She pressed into his touch, and moved closer to nuzzle his shoulder. "I do. It's just... no, it's silly."

"You can tell me."

"I want it to be special?"

He propped himself up enough to lean in and kiss the top of her muzzle. "The right moment, or mood? That's fair. So, are you still going with 'in heat' for now?"

"I can't do a repeat so soon. Hm. Ah!" She grinned and patted his shoulder with a fore-talon. "You're in training as a grooming specialist, and I need an expert massage."

"Of course. So, you'll be needing the bed? I think I still have all the oils here." He rolled to his padded feet and started towards his chest, then turned back with a frown. "If I was in training, wouldn't I be supervised?"

She paused halfway onto the bed, blinked, and then cocked her head in a shrug. "You're trained enough to be on your own, but I may need some convincing to be your regular customer."

"Fair enough. Or should I say: as you wish, valued client Inaya."

A satisfied purr overlapped the rustle of fabric as she settled herself behind him. There, wrapped in a spare towel: a small collection of labeled vials. Just as his wolf fur was different from human skin—he supposed the better analogy was human skin to human hair—the different parts of a Seikret needed different kinds of care. He might as well have been a trained groomer for the knowledge he'd accumulated. It was his responsibility to care for Inaya, just as she carried him; sometimes, out of literal fire. Hopefully not too often. He was still learning the best ways to dodge the damned Quematrice.

No wolf liked the scent of singed fur. Especially when it was theirs.

"And where shall I start?" He asked as he brought the oils over to a stand by the bed. "From the crest down, or?"

There was a pause before she spoke. "I wasn't exaggerating about the saddle. There's something I think rubs on my scales... up a little, and left—there."

He spread his fingers over the spot, looking for any issues: cracks or loose scales, chafing, or even any swelling that might have been mistaken for an ill-fitted saddle.

"It doesn't hurt, at least," she said, watching him. "Just uncomfortable at times."

"I'm not seeing anything wrong, so I'll have to check the saddle later. Remind me if I forget." He poured some oil in one palm and worked it over the area, then tilted his head a few ways to study how the light played off the verdant pattern. Just to be sure. He looked back up to her face. "So, start here?"

"I won't object." She stretched out on the bed—and, in the process, snagged a claw on his shorts. Not enough to leave a hole, which was good, because her expression was anything but apologetic. "Oh, no. I do apologize."

He tried to repress a smirk. "Is this where you suggest I take them off?"

"Your words, not mine."

"Tell me I'm wrong." His repression failed as she gave an indignant huff. "Fortunately for our valued client, I do place the highest importance on client comfort, and I am most eager to please. Besides," he said, setting down the bottle so he could hook the other hand's thumb under his waistband, "I wouldn't want my clothing to get stained, would I?"

"Very unprofessional," she murmured, head turned and one eye fixed on every motion with lustful hunger. Or a predator's intensity. Or both.

He might have been intimidated, except he was a Hunter. Large and focused on you was cause for excited focus, not fear. Or maybe it _was_fear hammered and sharpened into yet another weapon. By now, with Inaya, the excitement took on a different form; one that had him peeking out of his sheath by the time he pushed his pants over and past the bulge. He only let his hand linger in front to further tease his mount-and-partner-turned-lover.

"Go on." Her pupils were dilated, all the better to drink in every detail. A soft hiss of inhaled breath came as he let his pants drop, moved his hand away, and spread his legs enough to show off once he'd stepped out of the fallen clothes. For any of his other bravado, he'd never felt the need to worry about cock size like some of the other guys. He'd seen theirs. He was fine.

And most importantly, past partners hadn't complained, and neither did Inaya. Good enough was good enough.

"Let me continue, dear client." He made sure that despite putting both hands to work on her scales—and, with firm pressure, the muscles underneath—he stayed posed in such a way that Inaya could get as much as her thirsty gaze so desired. He imagined if he was an exhibitionist, that attention alone could have gotten him to full hardness.

Instead, it just took a little longer. A bit of imagination as she softly moaned at his touch, as much sensual caress as it was relief of tension. Memories of how more than a couple past massages had ended up turning heated—in fact, a slow massage was how they'd taken the first tentative steps beyond just working together and into more intimate territory. Remembering that was enough to have him start inching out of his sheath. He couldn't help but smile as he heard her breath catch, only to let it out as he worked along her flank.

"I think you've—mmm—that's it for the discomfort there," she breathed.

"Is there more?"

She nodded. "Lower. No, down my body." If he'd been properly grooming her, he'd have had to switch oils for the softer feathers that ran under her body. Instead, he followed her guidance until her hind leg posed an obstacle. "Lower."

"I'm not sure I can get any lower, unless you want me on your tail."

"I think you can." She lifted that thick, powerful leg, turning on the bed as she did, enough that he could clearly see a slightly puffy slit between her legs.

"Ah, I think I see," he said, and picked up a small towel to dry his hands. No sense getting oil where it wasn't meant to go. He placed one hand on her thigh, and then the other he placed along her pubic bone, above that slit. "Here?"

"Mm, no. Lower."

He shifted half a hand down; if he spread his fingers, he'd touch that sensitive flesh. "What about here?"

"Lower."

This time, he put actual effort into suppressing any sense of amusement he felt as he lifted his hand, drifting just over her, and then settling just past the base of her tail.

She growled, eyes narrowing by a degree.

"Ah, my apologies. Here." He lifted his hand... and set it on the inside of the thigh braced on the bed.

It took a little test rub in a circle over very strong muscle for her to speak again. "Do I have to spell it out?"

He let the grin spread on his muzzle at last. "Oh, am I not allowed to give a little mischief back?"

"That would be fair... if I were fair." She bared her teeth, though there was no threat in the display. Or at least, not of the kind that left scars.

He'd probably be paying for his teasing later. For now, he let his amusement fade into a polite sort of smile. "More to the point, milady, while we try to anticipate our clients' needs, some services must be ordered by request."

"Fine. Please, I need you. Touch me... make me forget the outside world exists for a while."

"That, I think I can do." He shifted his fingers until they traced along the edges of that slit; the usually tight seal protecting sensitive internals was relaxed and open to his touch. He'd had the foresight to file down his claws to smooth, blunted tips, which meant he had no trepidation about slipping two of his fingers inside her.

Warmth, wet, and a surprisingly tight grip for a larger being. Come to think of it, he'd never seen a male Seikret aroused; he briefly wondered how he compared. Then again, he didn't need to know. He just had to do a good enough job that she wouldn't mind any differences. Though, at least in one case, she rather did enjoy the difference.

But, he was getting ahead of himself. He curled the fingers enough to let him settle his palm on her mound, adding pressure to the stimulation. Then a slow, steady motion, a mix of rocking back and forth and moving in a circle. She squirmed, huffed, and her feathers rose as a shiver ran through her body. "How's that?"

"More," she whispered, then huffed and took in a breath. "More," she said, "and I think I can see something even better than your fingers."

He was getting harder, it was true, but an echo of the earlier teasing spoke before he could think better of it. "And what would that be?"

Inaya eyed him, and then she leaned forward, curling with flexibility that did make him somewhat jealous—especially when it let her stroke her tongue slowly, firmly, over his arousal, and then again.

"Ah, that."

"That." Another lick. "Unless you don't want to use it, of course."

"Oh, no, you make a strong argument." He climbed up onto the bed as she withdrew and resettled herself, giving him enough room to brace one knee by her tail and wrap an arm around the raised leg, putting him in the right position. He was hard, now, or at least hard enough that he could aim himself into that slit and start spreading her with his pointed tip. The kiss of heat surged even more blood into his arousal, and he pushed...

"Yes, good wolf," she purred, shifting her posture enough to give him access.

He obligingly let his tail wag a few times. Then it was a matter of working himself in her, letting that wetness spread for their mutual comfort. She'd worked up quite a bit, evidently not joking about needing some release. He didn't need convincing. When it feels this good, how could I mind? A deeper push, slow and steady... and then his fuzzy sheath was pressed to her slit, the warmth of her grip suffusing him with anticipation for the pleasures ahead. Knowing what she felt like, how she'd quiver around him, only made it even better.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"Better than." She slowly rocked her hips once, twice, and then stopped. "You?"

"You feel amazing, as always." He ran a hand over her feathered belly. "Even if you're not actually in heat."

She chuckled, and then a slight lift of that hind leg pulled his weight forward by a degree. Enough to add a little pressure as their hips met. "It doesn't matter, because you, hunter, are authorized to breed me like I am."

Really, how can I argue that offer? He licked his lips and then thrust, not even pulling back yet, just letting her feel that pressure and his strength. Not that he could wrestle her, by any stretch; even the strongest hunter was outclassed by small monsters, which was why they had armor and weapons and other tools to even the odds. Without any of those things, Inaya could just squeeze her hind legs together and probably break him in multiple places. There was a certain thrill to the thought of that much strength being so close to him. Though, he much preferred this. Why imagine the harm she wouldn't do when he could work towards the very real pleasure that they could share, making those powerful muscles quiver from their shared passion?

No, the hunt would stay outside. In this tent, it's just the two of us. He very much intended to give her as much pleasure as he knew he'd receive. Maybe more, if he could. Though, then she'd start working to please him in return, and he'd step up his own efforts, and eventually any semblance of competition faded into torrential ecstasy. Oh, yes. I do like the thought of breeding her. And he knew just what she wanted.

Until then, he started thrusting more properly. Wordless gasps had his ears swivel towards her, and while he had a good sense of what she liked, he still let her sounds and reactions guide him. The charged scent of their coupling was filling the air, filling his mind with ever more carnal thoughts. A little more pressure here, a more rapid pace there... she moaned, and he grunted, his grip on her raised leg growing tighter. No more room for talking. Nothing but the two of them, and soon he'd be—

"Wait. Don't pull out, but, wait."

Her words didn't throw cold water on his passion, but he did force himself to a stop all the same. He could feel his heartbeat thudding, the pulse in his loins as it met the pressure of her grip on him, and staying in those velvety walls was a very electric feeling... and he forced as much of that aside as he could. "What's wrong?"

"Not wrong, you—mmmh, I don't want you to stop. But the angle feels off."

He frowned. He hadn't felt that; if anything, it had been going very, _very_well for two very different bodies trying to couple. They'd had a fair bit of practice.

"Give me another thrust?" She squirmed as he complied, and let out a shaky breath. "You feel so good... but, hm, grab a pillow?"

He did have to pull out to do so, and he tried not to hiss at the cold air on his wet cock. He was confused when she reached out to position it behind him, especially when she was moving to stand—

"Oh, you..." he managed to get out as her foreclaws clamped on his shoulders, driving him onto his back. The now strategically placed pillow raised his hips, and she easily straddled him; at least the bedding was resilient enough to handle both the weight and her claws. The former of which descended on him, though he could easily recognize how careful she was being. There had been a lot of lessons learned in the times where she'd been on top, or close enough to it. Particularly the night he'd been her 'mount.'

From the bottom, he barely came up to her chest, and as she loomed over him it drove home just how much larger she really was. She could absolutely crush him—maybe not if she simply lay down on him, though holding her full weight would be very, very far from comfortable. And yet, she paused. Her grip on his shoulders was gentle. Holding him, not restraining him. He'd barely softened from the motion and commotion. A couple slow strokes and another kiss of her entrance around his tip was enough to rouse him again, and he braced his feet, knees to either side of her tail, rising up just enough to meet her gentle descent, to press back into her...

She sank down, her thighs tense as she kept from dropping all at once on him. Not that it took long for her to take his entire length. He reached up behind him to grab another pillow and put it under his head. Then, he just held onto her.

The ride was about to begin.

Even with him, a pack of supplies, and a spare weapon all strapped to her, she could almost effortlessly leap around some of the broken terrain, or jump a gap, or climb a curtain of vines up a cliffside like she was going for a vertical jog. Those same muscles were held taut as she worked her lower half by inches, rising and falling on his cock, shivering and occasionally grinding against him. He did his best to stay with her motions, keeping himself from slipping out when she pulled back and then pressing to meet her downward dips, both for her pleasure and his comfort. And pleasure—he was certainly getting his own share of that.

His tail, thankfully cushioned by the pillow, wagged underneath her larger, feathered appendage. His fingers found her foreclaw and they clasped together, the other side just holding on and bracing each other as the pace picked up. Both of them were breathing heavily, tinged with moans and huffs amidst the other, wetter sounds of their mating.

His nose was filled with the scent of her, of them, and he buried it in her chest feathers. His particular culture of wolf-kin didn't hold to the same level of scent-sharing as other clans... except, their sense of smell was still strong, was still very much tied to instinct and memory. The more he took in, the more he felt right in choosing her as a mate. Strong, tough, passionate, giving as much as she took... it was speaking to a primal part of him, one that howled in the night and salivated at a good, juicy steak. Or so he imagined. Maybe he was just letting his mind wander too much.

There wasn't much mind left to wander by the time he felt the start of a bulge slip out of his sheath, and she slowed for only a moment before redoubling her pace. Ever since discovering his knot she'd loved the idea of it: not just for locking in one's virility, but the bonding, the trust of having their two bodies linked for long minutes after the passion had faded. Or at least, mostly faded. The thought of her squeezing around him had him bark out a wordless cry, and he pushed as she dropped, the wetness and her otherwise looser grip than even another wolf letting the knot slide in and out, spreading her further, at least until the tension surged within him and the thick bulge became a fist-sized hardness that she dropped onto and held inside her, clenching around foreign anatomy that she did her damnedest to take and hold anyway. And she succeeded, the ring of muscle around her entrance working well to clench behind the swell and keep him locked in, with only their squirming bodies and her trembling squeezes for stimulation....

It was enough. He arched first, the tension too much, the dam breaking and his passion spilling forth as he muffled a long, low moan into her feathers. She shivered as he released in her, and she ground against him, again and again, too close for him to slip a hand down and try to help her along... and she didn't need it, as a wave of spasms rolled over his sensitive flesh, as if trying to extract even more seed from him. And, probably succeeding, even as his toes curled and his whines caught in his throat. He would keep putting seed in her for a few minutes with a full tie, but that didn't mean the pleasure wasn't almost too much to handle as she pressed against him in her own climax.

He opened his eyes to see her, beak-muzzle open, plumage spread in a halo of color; she was several times his size, and he'd made her finish. It was the same thrill as a successful hunt, capturing some specimen or driving off a troublemaker. He might even have bruises from how firmly she pushed against him. He didn't care. She was worth every moment of his attention. It was... probably the hormones and afterglow rendering him all cuddly, but then, he hardly needed those to appreciate her.

Though, she was leaning enough on him that he started to feel he needed breathing room. He tapped her chest, and she pulled back enough to let him cock his head and look up at her.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

A purr rumbled through her. "Much. Have I mentioned," she paused for breath, "how much I enjoy this? With you?"

"I do recall a time or two." He kept one hand holding her forepaw, and the other stroked through her feathers. A shame to undo some of the grooming, though he could make that up to her later. "And the feeling is very much mutual. As long as I don't get smothered in feathers, of course."

She chuckled. "Even if I were actually in heat, I'd like to think I'd keep enough wits to avoid crushing my favorite hunter."

"I mean, there's worse ways to go. I'd very much prefer to live, though." He grinned up at her. "Although, if we're relying only on your wits..."

A very large head angled to stare down at him. "Zev."

"Yes?"

"Are you calling me witless?"

"I would never!" He tried to keep most of the sarcasm from his voice. "Just, if you're horny or tired enough, you know. I might have to worry."

She huffed in displeasure... and then, more worryingly, grinned. "You know, you might be right."

He had to check. "Did I step too far?"

"Not too far. Though, what if I don't have wits at all? What if I'm just a silly dumb feral creature. I might just fall back on instinct, you know." The pressure on his body increased, and the gentle hold on his shoulders had decidedly changed to firm. "Seikret find mate, Seikret hold mate, and mate can't complain."

"I think I liked masseuse better."

"Hm, no, sorry." Feathers filled his vision and nearly covered his nose as she settled atop him—like he was an egg she was incubating. "No comprehension of language whatsoever, this witless Seikret. If only there was a way to understand this strange furred being's noises. Maybe if he absolutely needs to, he can tap on her side and she'll let him up? But only for good reason, I suppose. Ah, but that's what happens when she only has feral instincts and no intelligence."

He tried to say something, except his muzzle was definitely mired in her plumage. Whatever came out was certainly muffled—which she'd doubtless just pass off with her newfound ignorance. You just had to say it. And yet, part of him was grinning along with her. He hadn't become a hunter for the easy path out of tough situations. He was still tied with her, and a slow clench around him had him holding back a whine. If she kept it up, she'd probably be able to wring another load out of him once he'd recharged; it wouldn't be the first time he'd stayed in someone long enough for a second round, though that had only happened with another wolf, long ago.

She'd probably stop after that... probably.

At least they had a few days of break, because if she didn't, he'd need them to recover from sore, bruised bliss.

Such was the life of a hunter.