September Prairie
September Prairie by K-I-K and G.F.D.(Collaboration of Anthropomorphic Literature) - CoAL -(Author's Note: This was a collaboration project betwixt myself and the very talented writer GFD, author on a well known furry literature site. September Prairie was written over an eight day period, and I must say, it was enjoyable. There is a mixture of both writing styles in the entire story, as we both wrote it at the same time. It contains it's own format, as well as credit to the program used for creating it [CoAL]. I've been on a personal hiatus from my writing, but this was something easier to do, and it's for the fans of foxes in September when LIAN was also written. If you enjoy it, make sure to send your thanks to GFD too! Stay gold, YS faithful. -KIK)_I was nervous, to say the least. The narrow hallways tilting as I tripped once. You know, I haven't felt this nervous since the last, no, I definitely hadn't ever felt this nervous. The carpet catching the heels of my foot again like a tiny child trying to keep me from moving my legs to their destination. Finally I was at her door, 0289. A beautifully adorned door with all kinds of boards, stickers, and doo-dad's stuck to it. And while it may have looked gaudy, there was that subtle hint of a plain, orderly, depth to it. I looked at the peephole for a second before knocking on the one patch of wood that wasn't covered just for that purpose. There was a eternal pause as my heart thrummed against it's cage. Everything was quiet before I heard her voice. "Coming!" It called, like a set of wind-chimes. Footsteps neared as the thrashing heart was forgotten for a second. The adrenaline making him freeze in acute focus. The door opened a crack before her muzzle first showed. Then the rest of her face, like a sun coming out from behind a cloud. Or rising in the morning like an orange ball of fire._Tick-tick-tick-tick..._Not yet, he didn't hear the word, or words, not all at once. In the instance that his eyes were allowed to see her figure, more so, each detail, all things inside him briskly froze, and ice age of the heart and spirit. . . one can understand. Her body was a pristine carving, a well attributed kind of. . . design, a clockwork organization of sensual curves and waves carefully formed together to manifest a young, feminine woman, a girl in that nature altogether. There were reasons they were called "vixens," and she embodied the definition perfectly. Garbed in a river of satin, a dress as black as night with ornate frills, the sequence of onyx managed to compliment her sparkling violet eyes, a striking brilliance that caught Cayne in his current permafrost state of being. Indeed, from the silent fire of magma gold that was her silky fur to the elegant swerves of her gracious body, Cayne was locked in a renewed trance that he hadn't felt for ages . . if ever. Her tail, as he stood, dumbfounded, was flicking to and fro with a wiley impatience, a meager smirk rubbed upon her muzzle as she waited. "Earth to Cayne? Eyes up here, hmm?" Linaria murred as his gaze drifted back up, and locked on her deep eyes. Dark violet, a color that almost seemed to hover around her black pupil. Linaria. That was her name. Perhaps strung together by a harmonized orchestra of ingenious maestros. "Oh, hey, I was just, umm. You got the text didn't you?" He mumbled as she continued watching him before he looked at something else. She was almost too beautiful to look at directly. Her black dress throwing him off as he focused on the mirror off to the left on the wall behind her. Her auburn muzzle twitched before she stifled a giggle, lest she embarrass him more. "Yep, I got that text. Did you think I would dress up like this just to sit in this room all saturday evening?" She brushed a loose strand of fire off her black dress deftly with her hand as if to bring more attention to herself and the body-hugging dress. As if the angelic fox knew he was staring at the mirror. _Tick-tick-tick-tick..._As he was ushered into the lovely femme's room even while the vixen finished her final preparations before the date, he began to feel the nervous tension build up again. But this time he couldn't think of what it stemmed from. Many forms of anxiety young Cayne had felt, from old year tests to perhaps a not-so-innocent activity, but this, with her, this angelic fox, was an entirely new stomach-grinder. And it was a good uncertainty, a kind of fear as well, not something dreaded or hated, yet. . . embraced. This embraced revelation of a pleasant trance was further magnified as he watched her almost methodical tail sway as she picked up another brush and began to work on the fur around her neck, an art form unto its own. Almost swaying to a familiar rhythm. He swore he could name the song but his thoughts were too scrambled. He watched Linaria before she looked at the mirror and laughed as he tracked the white-tipped tail as she swished it once before putting the brush in it's respective holder and brushed the stray stands of fur off her. "Ready?" Her hand queried with her voice she she offered it to him. Cayne reached forward to pull himself up, and almost fell as she didn't expect the weight. Even more stupefying was an entirely new interval to the relation with things not human. . . smell. A vixen's musk alone was enough to drive a male wild, most of all a skin-youth, and the ambrosia of spiced perfumes and natural, heated scents was consuming the young man's mind like a potent, vaporous liquor. The scent was almost cloying as she led the way out of her small room. Wafting behind her as he tried to keep balance in the narrow corridor. Trying to focus on walking and keeping his pants from tenting instead of other thoughts. But to no avail. "Already too hot for you?" She turned around and asked as she caught him folding his jacket over his forearm to cover up a certain tent in his loose dress pants. "Nah, this jacket just annoys me," He muttered as he felt a blush creep up his face. "Well, we're still here, you can walk over to your room and drop it off," She grinned, showing her white canines as he desperately hoped she wouldn't notice why he was carrying his jacket over his front. "It's alright, I might need it later. Cant ever be too prepared ya know," He tried to grin back but his member throbbed angrily against his bluff._Tick-tick-tick-tick..._The city itself was a living organism, compromised of thousands upon thousands of voices, noises, sights, lights, movements, murders, parasites, prostitutes, and people of every cult and creed. The air itself was thick with the intense, acrid clots of the city, pure yet tainted, common, yet so very foreign. Humanity had grown quite accustomed to inhaling wisps of cigarette smoke, car smog, the effusive bowel stench of sewers, the harsh tang of gunpowder, the malodorous haze of body odors mingled with pheromones, the creeping breath of drugs and their labs, all wrapped up in a tornado of impure, cancerous vapor the city could grow fat and bloated on. The car purred to life as Cayne popped the passenger side door open for his lady. She kept grinning, never having been treated like this by her past relationships. He was new, sweet, yet nervous, polite, but jumpy. He was almost cute in his haste to seem nonchalant. He awkwardly walked to his door before pausing, thinking of how best to get in the car without getting into an embarrassing predicament. He had bought the sedan years ago, and sadly, it was a low-slung car. Eco-friendly, but definitely not an erection-friendly model. He was luckily able to to his back into the seat before sitting gently down into the scraggly fabric. He cringed inwardly at the idea of what Linaria might have thought when she saw the car. A friend of his uncle's, the dealer, that had sold him the car forgot to elaborate on the grooves and scrapes of what appeared to be knife scars and mutilated upholstery. The car still purred to life, and to Cayne that's what he had bought it for. It was extremely cheap, almost ludicrously so. And it got him from home to work in one piece. And now, he hoped it wouldn't fail in the darkening cityscape around the couple. To his dire relief, Linaria made no mention of its visually decrepit state and seemed quite at ease when entering the seat parallel to his own. Her calm state was, in all respects, very surprising. Cayne had always tabbed the vixen kind to be very objective and picky. . . complicated. Thus far, the magma-furred angel had made no such impressions. He was so nervous. . . how could he not be? For some other-worldly reason, Cayne was dead set on trying to impress Linaria, as though anything out of place would offend or upset her. Constantly, as the car began to buzz down the road, the jumpy youth mentally cringed every moment something felt "out-of-place," as though the young human wanted to manipulated the fabric of reality itself. She broke his reverie finally as she tapped the dial on the radio that was too loud in order to break his vagrant thoughts. "So, what do you do for a living other than stare at ladies and sit in your room?" grinned the stunning gene-morph. Cayne's mind reeled before he finally began to blurt words out, too late to catch and censor what he was saying. "Other than watching you shake your tail at me I work as a accountant for a small publishing firm... and that's about it, nothing special about me," He sighed. "Et-tu?" "So that's all? Didn't you come from somewhere? Anything you did you're proud of?" She played with her delicate hands now, tracing the fingers over the lines in the dashboard for the airbag. For an instant, he wished those fingers were tracing him. . . That instant almost cost him the fact that the wheat-haired femme deflected his query. In monotone disappointment, Linaria sat there and stared out the window at a loss for words before sighing. All right, better knock it off with the fools game... thought Cayne, not wanting the situation to turn foul right before the date got started. "Tell you what Linaria, I'll tell you over dinner, so it'll be two surprises. See where we're going, and learn about me," He gave a feeble grin as the wily creature looked at him curiously. He watched her from the corner of his eye before he finally saw her brush a loose strand of hair away from her muzzle before smiling and looking back out the window. "You can just say Lina or Linda if you want." A pause, then: "I like Lina, it's unique." The drive continued for only a few moments in silence before Cayne broke the discomforting quiet. He decided, during this drive, to take advantage of being with a vixen in the sense that she was a completely different species than he. Not just race, age, or gender, but an enormous biological difference entirely. He'd always heard rumors about how gene-morphs were treated. . . and the youth never knew if it was fact or myth. "So, er, Lina, where did you grow up? Around in the city or somewhere else?" queried he earnestly, watching for oncoming vehicles at an intersection. "Will you laugh?" She asked timidly, surprise in her voice noting his sudden curiosity for her. "Why would I laugh about where you grew up?" He gently asked. Watching the lovely femme's face change expressions before he slowly leaned over. And gently poked her ribs. "HEY!" She squealed. Scowling at him before giggling. He was about to poke her again before a car behind him honked. "So, are you going to tell me where you grew up? Or am I going to have to keep poking you for our entertainment tonight?" He smiled at her, and Linaria doing likewise. There was a standard moment of hesitation. Aside from her jovial behavior, a pause hung in the air for a handful of seconds. Then, Linaria sighed, adjusting her dress as if to distract from the query, until responding, in a more subtle, sober tone. "It's. . . I. . . from an old town, about three-hundred miles west of here. Symmetry Vale(?), where most of my family grew up, for as long as I could remember. I. . . I dunno. Don't like to think about it much," responded the fair bodied gene-morph. The information sank in. Symmetry Vale was, well, near the mid-west. And irregardless of the mass strides made in biological, technical, and mechanical engineering, it was still mostly a country town. It was. . . shocking, to say the least, Cayne's jaw a bit slack as the knowledge numbed him. This brown haired beauty didn't look a thing like a country girl! "Well, at least you aren't laughing at me," She whispered as Cayne caught himself jaw agape as he contemplated the new-found information. "No, it's not shocking. It's just a shock. I mean everything about you almost speaks, screams, 'CITY!' and I guess that's just what surprised me. I could never see you being. . . erm, a tomboy?" Now it was Lina's turn to laugh. "I wouldn't say a tomboy, at least not that extreme. But I certainly don't act like folks at home, if. . . that's what you mean," Linaria gave a nervous twitch of a smile before relaxing a little in the worn seat as if a weight had been lifted off her chest. "By 'folks back home' do you mean you still have relatives back there?" Cayne asked, turning toward the last couple city blocks to the restaurant. "Four sisters, two dogs, a cow, parents, uncles, and the rest of the McCallahan Clan. Say that ten times fast." A sigh. "I was never really fond of it," the magma-furred vixen added. "Too many old ways and rituals and. . . too many memories. Gene-morph rights have always been contested in Symmetry. My family wanted to tough it out and 'deal with it.' I couldn't. . . I couldn't do that like them. I had to get out, I had to breathe," She looked at the passing office buildings. Their lights illuminated in spotted uneven checkerboard patterns on the faces of the towers. A thousand mile stare accentuating her features. Almost making her look fragile. Less defined. An old pain, or memory, Cayne certainly did not want to dig up. They slowly pulled up to the valet for the upper-class restaurant as Linaria continued to look out the window. Now at the arched entryway into the restaurant. Enchanting, ornate stonework met the fox's eyes, as her breath left her. It certainly wasn't a pizza place that she had envisioned. _Tick-tick-tick-tick..."Hope this'll do you some good," Cayne said as the valet opened the door on her side before Cayne stepped out himself. Strangely, the air was neglected the cities' toxic breath, more a clustered breeze of cool night air, filled with the ambrosia of rich Italian foods. As the car pulled away slowly Linaria sidled up to him before taking his arm. The grace of the angelic vixen's subtle musk and touch of her silky fur instantly drew a renewed warmth to the young man's flesh, his perception of things once again marred over. "Better than I expected, how'd you reserve a place like this so soon?" queried the vixen gene-morph in slight pangs of astonishment. "I know the head waiter here," Cayne said just as a tiny fennec morph opened the frosted glass for them and clapped him on the back winking. His head was just under the height of Linaria's breasts. But with his ears he was up to her neck. His visage and clothing bore the decorum of the innards of "Cosa Nostra," and the throb of the amber lights to his back gleamed like a sun-soaked halo of hues and lighted shades. The fennec held the large mahogany door open for them before checking off his ledger next to the entrance. Motioning with his hand that they should follow him. Hence the pair were led into the restaurant by the prompt Fennec, a swirl of sounds, sights, and smells engulfed them, all in one blissful wave. It was certainly far more than Linaria expected, and the youths may have been permanently dumbfounded were it not for the breaking in of the petite' fennec. "So Cayne," chimed he, "Finally decided to make good on that favor, eh?" the gene-morph asked, taking a moment to look over the vixen (as his position was rather fortuitous in his size predicament). "Yep, finally found a reason to come here," Cayne replied before realizing what the fennec was waiting for. Quite briskly, somehow managing to get through the rows of waiting people and folk previously with reservation, Lina and Cayne found themselves welcomed into a more darkly lit 'room,' focus on the atmosphere of something soothing and romantic. "Oh, forgot, Allin, meet Linaria, Linaria, meet Allin," He quickly blurted out as they made entry into the room, Allin flicking his ears with amusement and bowing. "It's a pleasure meeting you Linaria, Cayne sounded very excited when he called a few days ago." He said as he took the fox femme's hand in his and kissed it. "Pleasure is all mine Allin," Linaria replied before putting her hand over Allin's and smiling before turning to look at Cayne. "Do you want a kiss so you wont have to kill Allin for giving me one later?" Linaria grinned as Cayne was caught glaring at Allin, not on purpose of course. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind a kiss from you madam," Allin said before ushering himself out of the private room with a bow. "So, you were going to tell me about yourself, or will that have to be a surprise for another time?" Linaria pointedly asked as she turned in her seat and straightened her skirt around her knees as Cayne looked around at the trim before looking directly at her. With a wry grin, the fennec made exit to retrieve a 'complimentary liquor.' "Well, I can start with Allin, I suppose. We both went to college together, freshman year we roomed together, and while he went into business management I went into English." Cayne paused before contemplating. There was a curt knock before Allin entered the booth with a bucket and two wine-glasses. It was the restaurant's special, Red Ministry, 1919. "Some refreshments for the lady and yourself," Allin quickly said before turning around and leaving. Cayne watched the door before continuing. "You know, let me start before that..." Cayne continued into a longer story dating back to his childhood. He was only halfway through his story when he jumped and hit the table with his knee, causing him to yelp and flinch with pain. Linaria merely smiled and winked before stretching a bit. The wine, the liquor was tickling the air with a spiced aroma, and Cayne felt rather. . . overpowered. There was alcohol swimming through him, as well as adrenalin, and behind the curtains of his civil decorum, a primordial drive that was further aroused by this wild, untamed beauty. There was a potent lust, you see, about courting a vixen. So different with a magnitude of experiences to behold. Linaria grinned as she looked at the nervous Cayne staring down with his conflicting thoughts, she had simply become bored and had decided to play with the shy man. Now this, was entertainment. He could feel her clawtips scratch against his pants again as she stretched. Was that on purpose? The most timid of gestures had caused an explosion of neurons and warmth to surge through him, again, and his heart was throbbing and beating with yearning and youthful fire. And her stretch, her arms, they. . . pulled back, and the female fox's bust. . . gave view, represented their bountiful cleavage without much difficulty. A slim body arched backward as a womanly bosom thrust forward. . . Cayne was beginning to lose himself. Dare he even attempt to move the conversation elsewhere? He stuttered before giving up on his talk altogether. He brought his wrist up slowly, his hand at the end of his interminably long arm shaking like a fall leaf in a storm before he gripped the Bordeaux glass. Tick-tick-tick-tick..._Looking for an anchor to his boyish uncertainty, he took another sip of wine. Not the most effective of ideas, as that further plunged his cognition into a deeper realm of animal hunger. The young man wanted to sip her now, like the very liquid he sipped, as she was a rare, exotic drink only the most clever could taste. There was a rapping at the door before Allin peeked in as Linaria looked back with her composure. Cayne looked at him incredulously, almost begging to know if what he saw was real. Either Linaria worked at the speed beyond light, or she was extremely good at looking normal when the occasion called for such measures. "Dinner is served," the short Fennec said with the utmost nonchalance. For that, Allin heaved a mental sigh of relief. He didn't know if he could control himself, or have the capacity to go with what his body was demanding. Allin looked at him curiously before grinning coquettishly and ushering himself smoothly out as he had set his plates down. Cayne looked at the pasta in front of him incredulously, he wouldn't be able to eat all of it! He slowly looked up, before his own eyes bugged out at what Linaria had ordered herself. A twenty-four ounce rib eye sat neatly on her plate as entrees surrounded the castle of protein. She played with her forks before deftly picking out a mozzarella stick and popping the fried appetizer into her jaws. She looked at Cayne and laughed at his face before catching a bit of string cheese hanging down from her muzzle. Shimmering, silver knife and fork met the tender flesh of well roasted meat, sawing through the reddened beef with the classy precision of a true predator. As the cut reached her canid black lips, a wide rug of pink lashed out to sample the mellow flavor of the rib eye steak, and the dribbling juices speckled the vixen's tongue slowly and sensually. No sooner was the action was performed did the food find itself in her maw, chewed slowly with time and patience into every succulent bite. The cascade of tastes caused the angelic fox femme to moan softly in a pang of tasty, orgasmic waves. "Are you going to eat Cayne?" Linaria asked as Cayne caught himself staring again. He quickly picked up a fork, and reached for the knife, only to have it fall to the floor as his hand bumped the heavy silver handle. He paused. What now? Go down and actually. . . pick it up? Would that be rude? Would she suspect him of. . . looking? All caution went to the wind. The time for internal conservation was long gone, mind eroded by the rivers of liquor and increase in hormones heating his body up like a searing sex device. He looked at the knife with a sidelong glance as Linaria seemingly oblivious to his predicament began on the asparagus. Down his frame went, and. . . there was no objection from the vixen, no word from Linaria not to do what he was doing. As he bent down to grapple the silver instrument, a movement caught his eye. . . being that of Linaria's finely shaped legs. Eyes observing, frozen with intrigue, they. . . parted. More or less separated the guarding state to her hidden prize, a glimmer of laced, thin black panties almost like a g-string. An indiscriminately thin line that left little to the imagination. Was it a g-string? he wondered. Cayne's throat caught. His retina widened. His mouth salivated. And he sneezed. His body, hands, arms. . . everything, began to shudder, only soothed by the divine song of the angel above. It was hard though, to even make sense of what Linaria was saying. . . her musk ever so stronger down here than, well. . . "Cayne. . . are you all right?" cooed the wiley femme, licking his ears with the intoxicating sound of her tone. "Or are you just enjoying yourself?" He almost hit his head on the underside of the heavy walnut table before quickly scrabbling to grab the hilt of the knife. The way she queried it. . . was not in the sense of admonishment. Nor of scorn. Almost. . . approval, and in that, Cayne grew more aroused and frightened by the second, beyond anything he'd been through in his entire life. Was this normal? Was this how gene-morphs interacted with one another? He almost felt nauseated from the thoughts and emotions creating a raging tempest within him. He quickly scooted back from under the table and up onto his chair, looking back at the soft smiling face of Linaria as she balanced a piece of steak on the tip of her fork. Tail flicking, ears flagged towards the young man at full attention, her vibrant violet iris' shimmered with something that was both calming and alluring to Cayne: excitement. Clearly, she was enjoying this as much as he. He paused, was she teasing him with the full knowledge of what was going on? He coughed slightly before beginning, finally, on his Gnocchi. So it went, the entire dinner Linaria continued to enjoy her meal, greatly, focused on the mouthwatering details of her food. Cayne, however, felt as if he was going to have a coronary by the hours end, his heart, thought otherwise. Luckily he was able to keep enough focus on his pasta to finish his meal. He must have been hungrier than he had previously anticipated. He mused as he twirled the fork on the last lump of Gnocchi di' Ricotta before swallowing it. The autumn haired femme was quite bemused, to say the least. She had always been experienced when dealing with the opposite gender, conditioned and mature-minded by primitive advances made by her own kind. Humans, in that regard, were significantly different. Theirs was almost a closed dealing. Opposite genders were very...primitive, even rudimentary in their courtship. While in the culture of gene-morphs, it was not a rare, or even rude thing, for relationships to go no further than nights of raunchy mateship, but mankind was so. . . different. They felt so compatible, so in tune with the vixen's own yearning for monogamy. And, contrary to the methods of human men, a vixen would choose her respective partner long before any 'dating' (as mankind referred to it) had begun. She had chosen and flirted with him long before he had the courage to ask her to this night on the town. She looked up at him and caught him staring at her. She held his eyes for a moment, realizing, yet again, that he wasn't like other men the fox femme had "dated". Every time she glanced at him, he would glance right back at her eyes. But always broke off to do something else. Looking elsewhere. She poked at the last piece of steak before looking once again at Cayne, watching him watch her. She leaned forward, lifted the fork up, and pushed the last bit of steak into his passive mouth. _Tick-tick-tick-tick. . ._Cayne gave his wrist watch a flick, looking at the face for a split second as Linaria back off from him, putting her fork down as she smiled. "Nice steak?" She softly asked him as he gave a quick, curt nod. "I should ask you, you had most of it," He smiled as she leaned on her elbows. resting her muzzle on her slender fingers as they wove themselves inextricably in her lithe hands. "I assumed you've enjoyed yourself so far?" queried the fair bodied angel softly, studying him again with her radiant eyes. Cayne patted his stomach and nodded. The vixen smirked. "Good. Did you enjoy the view?" She leaned forward a little to grab the wine bottle, and paused before looking directly at Cayne. Cayne's heart froze, then melted, then smashed against his ribs, then piledrived him with heat, all at the same time. Did he really hear that? "W-what?" asked back the youth nervously. Linaria's features did not falter, only observing him with an increasing interest. She let go of the wine bottle, tracing his chin instead with her blunt clawtip. She was so close now. "It's new, you know. The thong. Imported French lace I had to special order." Firm legs adjusted, a tilt of the head, and the gene-morph stood. She moved back and pushed the seat away before walking slowly around the table to Cayne. He could swear that his mind was going to freeze, every heartbeat was felt in his ears and hands. It was a roller-coaster ride of adrenaline. No matter how long he sat there it was a matter of adrenaline, or more adrenaline. Allin rapped on the door, this time speaking before entering. Cayne didn't know if he was relieved again or agitated, as if being interrupted. "Do you two feel like a dessert?" He asked curtly. They could see his shadow move across the frosted glass. as he wavered to stand in a better location. One of his ears flicking. "No thank you, I believe we're done," Linaria replied quickly, before stroking Cayne's arm, and pulling his hands gently up. He quickly, but smoothy rose. Allin peeked in, as soon as he saw the shadow of his friend rise he knew it was okay to look. His ears were still perked forward though, lest they think he was nervous. "Would you like the check now or later?" He asked as Cayne walked past him and slipped the cash into his paw-pads. He could feel the weight of the bills in his well-tuned palm before turning to retrieve their coats and informing the valet of their departure. It would be a little extra work for him later on, but, Allin had an instinct as to where this was going. Lina reeked of intoxicating feminine scents, including her natural musk of arousal. The car gave a small purr as it pulled up to the sidewalk, the door banging loudly as the valet exited and walked over to the opposite side to open the door for Linaria. Cayne waited as Linaria gave the teen a small hug before getting in. As they pulled away Cayne could see the teen wolf walking stiffly back to his booth. "I don't get how you can eat so little Cayne," Linaria said as they pulled through the dark street, the headlights cutting through the sparsely occupied avenues. "Oh, er. . . well," he muttered, the young man attempting to find some structure to his words. All that came to his mind was the thin strip of black guarding puffy pink lips, the bountiful cleavage teasing him from before, the ambrosia of a thick, almost unshakable smell. Even now, as a human he could still feel it lingering in the air. "I wasn't that hungry, I guess," he offered lamely, blushing somewhat, wishing he could've come up with something better. Something more. . . impressive. Of course, the vixen realized this, and had so long before. . . she was merely 'playing with her food,' so to speak. "Oh, you were," countered the vixen daintily, "but it was for something much different," the autumn haired angel hinted, still consistent with her smirking. Again, Cayne blinked. He stiffened, much like the wolf had, when a soft, leather-padded paw found itself on his leg, near the knee. "You know I enjoyed myself tonight," cooed the curvy bodied maiden, Cayne attempting to keep the car from crashing into a wayward pole as she soothed in delicious tones. She didn't even flinch as he turned sharply, only continuing to gaze at him as he desperately tried to focus on his driving. Only five more blocks he silently tried to remind himself. "And I think you did too. I know you did. . ." continued Lina, almost to a whisper. "I like human males, a lot you know. So very curious to know what it's like. . . it's adorable," Her silky hand went to his shoulder from leg, then to his cheek. Cayne nearly lost control of himself. All the more, he was more confused, invigorated, excited, and aroused than he'd ever been before. "L-Lina?" he sputtered, uncertain. "W-what... I mean... I-I..." He blushed harder, trying in vain to form words on his tongue as she continued to tease him. "You know, you're cute when you're nervous," She said before rubbing his thigh. "L..Lina, did you drink too much?" He finally sputtered, and instantly knew what he had said was horrible. A pause. The vixen lifted her hand from his thigh and simply looked at him. "Everything I say is honest Cayne, why do you think I would be drunk to say it?" She questioned in sober tones, her face a cryptic mix of curiosity to maybe, hurt? Cayne continued to look forward, nothing came to mind; how could he be so stupid to say that? All events that had previously transpired. . . imploded. In one swoop. He'd ruined it, mentally barraging himself with wave after wave of insults and scrutiny. In defeat, the young man made his last turn into the parking garage as an eerie quiet like a fog settled within the car. The lights seemed dimmer to Cayne as they pulled into his spot and got out. Colors more dull. The night a bit more. . . unforgiving. Arousal replaced with shame Linaria letting herself out as she continued her stoic vigilance over him. _God dammit, God dammit, God dammit. . ._Cayne could hardly bear the quiet, Linaria not speaking a word, only awaiting an answer as they climbed the two short stairs to their floor. They lived on opposite ends of the hallway that stretched across the long corridor the building was build around. They stood for a moment at the median to their apartments before Linaria turned, and began to walk slowly to her end. Cayne opened his mouth, and he must have made a sound, because Linaria turned and stopped her retreat as Cayne stood there, ears flagged and turned toward him, either with hope, or something else. "I'm sorry, It. . . it was just something stupid, I'm. . . I'm not used to being around somebody like you. I just spoke before thinking. I didn't ever doubt what you said Lina, please, don't be so quiet." The words came out wretched and pitiful, broken. They sounded of meager truth, less than Cayne wanted. Desperately, the distraught youth watched the vixen as she studied his face. And turned to walk away. Chest sank. Throat became a bitter brick. Mind became monotone gray. Cayne watched her retreat, each step sounding like a death toll as his heart felt like it had been twisted and contorted into a broken marionette on a string. He wanted to say something else, but nothing came out. Grudgingly, the young man slowly turned and plodded his way back to his apartment, the weight of his own stupidity gnawing at him like a ravenous animal. When he eventually reached his door, he took out his keys to unlock the brass knob, a ritual he'd repeated when life was a bland wash of dismal simplicity. Tick-tick-tick-tick. . . Fate was unkind. Fate was bitter, unforgiving, unyielding. As if the night couldn't have swollen to a situation any worse, Cayne found himself in a situation that tossed him into the jaws of depravity, rage, and confusion. His heart dropped as the door floated back with a push. He stood with the key in hand, staring at the gaping door before walking in, as if stricken. Hardly there, his legs were. . . stiff, numb with the poison of the situation. Floating through the threshold as if an apparition had taken his place. He observed with stinging, disbelieving eyes, at the cabinets, furniture. . .what was left, the table where his computer had been. He looked around, in a daze. He couldn't stop staring at what was missing, couldn't stop making the list already building of what was lost, not of what was left. No, this couldn't be happening. No. No. No! No!! NO!! "FUCK!" He screamed before hitting the wall next to him. The drywall crumpling under his fist as a hole swallowed the ball of knotted muscle. He slowly withdrew and looked around again. Not wanting to believe what he saw. He slowly crouched and pulled his knees up as he sat back on his haunches. Mind aflame, hands shaking, feverishly glancing at what had been taken. Not wanting to go to the other rooms to see what was gone. He didn't believe it, he couldn't, he wouldn't. . . The marionette in his chest was being struck over and over now. Bouncing around on it's restraints as a hammer slowly began to warm up on it's victim. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, suffocated by fury and sorrow and frustration. Cayne felt something warm seep down his hand. A splinter four inches long buried itself in his fist, along the bone. Red hues blinded him, waves of scarlet marring his sight. The youth glared at it, as if the splinter was an insult to his current condition. He gripped what was showing before trying to twist it deeper. Flinching as the young man touched the splinter. He couldnt even touch it without flinching! He kicked the wall next to him. Why was he so stupid! Weak!? Shit, he couldn't even say a simple fucking "I'm sorry" to save his life. He deserved this. He deserved this from ruining Linaria's night. He looked back at the empty space as he felt the blood begin to seep out from around the splinter. It felt bitter, like acid. Silence consumed Cayne. He didn't even hear the footsteps in the hall, or the door sigh as another person pushed it in. Why should he? Aghast and consumed by a blaze of anger, he was. It was the middle of the night, or close enough to it. Nobody should be walking around at this time. Nobody but one person. Cayne barely felt the brush of velvet fur on one shoulder as he continued to stare at the broken window over the fire escape. Tears stinging at the insides of his eyes. Dizzy, sick, confused. "Cayne?" Linaria whispered as she shook him. Lips parted as if a sound was to escape, but none came. Jaggedly, the distraught human gazed at her blankly before looking back at the window, then lifted his hand out of his white shirt. Except, now it was stained with himself. It wasn't long before she gasped, to Cayne's knowledge. The vixen's grip on his shoulder faltered minutely as Linaria herself was witness to the catastrophe that had taken place. Her nose flared and picked up on the copper-iron stench of fresh blood from the splinter's gash, the salty mist from lucid tears, the sound of heaving breaths and a discontent heartbeat. Her ears tipped back in growing alarm as his eyes looked away, empty as they were. He shuddered once before growing still again. "Oh my G. . . what happened?" queried the autumn haired vixen, eyelids agape with fear and concern at the site of this debacle. The young man didn't answer. A personal holocaust had taken place here; words were no longer a commodity his mind provided. She had a feeling he wouldn't have answered that question even in a good state of mind. Needless to say, Linaria was shrewd in her next decision. Instinct taking over. Kneeling, ever so gently, the vixen tenderly lifted the young man to his feet, no verbal nor physical objection erupting from his person. He stood weakly on his legs, only enough to support himself and let himself be maneuvered by the fox femme. The warmth of her magma-orange fur slowly healed its way through the numbness overriding him, albeit not drastically, and the faster the fox femme could remove him from the scene the better. Her hand whisked over his own and wrapped it tightly in her black shirt, applying pressure to the wrist. She didn't want to touch the splinter. Cayne never really saw himself move. The motions from his apartment into the hall were nothing but a blur, foggy and without consistency. He wasn't even able to think straight, let alone tell where he was going. When Linaria spoke, only a few things stuck out, timid details his brain clung to. Words leaking between phantom mental blocks his brain was creating to slowly and completely numb his cognition from the shock of seeing his home and work invaded. Destroyed. Obliterated. Violated. ". . .can stay with me tonight. I'll call the police in the morning and. . . should get that splinter looked at. . ." was all Cayne was able to decipher, like a cool breeze of Autumn was rushing over him. Only when they arrived at the vixen's room did his mind begin to clear. Slowly at first, but eventually picking out miniscule details enough to commit them to memory. The haphazard arrangement of freshly used shoes by the door to the neat kitchenette, ornamental lights hung in decorative mannerisms, garnished pillows here and there.. Cayne didn't feel the sofa below him. But he could feel her slowly slip away while he was seated. He tried to hold on, but she slowly pushed him back to his numb while she left to the restroom. That was his coldest moment, a strange place, the shock of having nothing, at all. And now, alone again. He was afraid. He began to shake before he felt a hug from behind. Jumping and flinching violently before hearing the soothing voice again. A white box with a red cross dropping on the sofa next to him. His memory still failed him, flowing around like molasses in a bucket. He even felt like a bucket was balanced in his head as Linaria finally found a sturdy pair of pliers. And took the injured hand into her lap. A slap of consciousness rudely hit him as a jarring pain shot up his arm into the deepest recesses of his Cayne's mind. As quick as it was, if felt like Hell went through that one sliver of flesh. "Sorry if that hurt," Linaria said as she dropped the splinter on the table before turning back to Cayne. Quickly placing a bandage on the open wound. Teeth grinding, air sucking, and some pained groaning later, the young man shook his head. Oddly enough, the sharper agony had snapped him out of his dull state of consciousness. Blinking, pale sight realized the figure of brown and orange, the colors of Fall, before him, and somehow, the troubles were beginning to fade. He noticed her attire first. Or lack thereof. A black silk bra, and sweatpants. Her bloodied t-shirt laying on the coffee table from holding his bleeding hand. How. . . odd, all of a sudden, that, the patterns of the onyx hued silk he was able to recall. The design was. . . the same as the g-string from before. After all that was transpiring, how on earth was this the thing for Cayne to remember? "Thanks," he mumbled before shuddering. His consciousness slipping back into the muddled confusion of shock. Linaria quickly hugged him as she saw the thousand-mile stare returning like a dull fog. His eyes snapped back to attention as he felt her soft breasts pushing his chest. Even through his damp shirt he could feel the warmth of her. And the smell of soap. She was warm, and soft the sensations incredible, and Cayne began to ache for her, yearn to cover himself in her heat.. He slowly reached up and hugged her back. "You need a shower," Linaria said as she rubbed his back. He was still shaking a little, like a frail puppy. But not as bad as the walk over to her apartment. He only grunted in reply. "Let me go get the shower ready and you can freshen up, all right?" The vixen said as she pulled away. Cayne shrank a little as if to contain the feeling of her body to himself. The young man nodded as she turned and walked quickly away. He looked so alone, she hated leaving him like that,looking so lost, frail, and desolate. Her soap, the ones too rough for his skin found it's way back into her cabinets along with her special shower equipment. Leaving nothing but a few dry towels, some body wash she had left that she had kept for her girlfriends, also humans, and a washcloth (humans could not use the same cleaning material as a gene-morph). Cayne was still on the couch, still curled up, but groggier as she tapped his shoulder. The flesh was cold under her touch. Cayne glanced at her before almost grudgingly getting up from his place on the soft pillows. This time he didn't need help getting to the restroom. She merely gave a few words of comment, and left him to the restroom as she stood outside, giving a last tip of advice. "If you need anything just knock or yell, okay?" said Linaria through the door. All she got was a feeble "alright" in return, barely audible through the door to her triangular ears. Though Cayne did not see it, the vixen's black lips curled into a smile. Linaria could not make him feel better instantly, but a steady progression outside the trauma was much better than nothing. She left for the kitchenette, her tail quivering with fervor. _Tick-tick-tick-tick. . ._Heat was the best thing now. The cold, empty air of his past 'home' was as stagnant and frightening as death. Barren and fruitless. The water, the life-giving substance calmed him, took Cayne's thoughts away, seeped through the shell of his frigid flesh and cleansed his spirit from the evils sticking to it like a poison ichor. The molasses returned to his mind again, but this time it was a calm numb. He needed it. He was so lost. The young man pondered the obvious, as all those do who are victimized. Why me? Why now? Why not someone else? But then again, why wish it upon somebody else? But, to each of these why's, a resounding answer cooed into the confines of his thinking. Linaria. The curvaceous goddess, tail flicking and body swaying, wrapping him with her tenderness, her care. Her warmth. So abruptly it had appeared that Cayne had decimated what they might have had, and now all of a sudden it was repaired anew. Like an exotic beacon, Lina had come to him in his darkest moment, and pulled him from the jaws of depression and defeat. Like magnets they couldn't stay away long without feeling some form of attraction as long as they were near each other. Why does she care so much? His heart. . . bloomed, and blossomed. His mind found no logic in anything, yet his soul was telling him something. Even with all the loss, it began to feel as though. . . he'd gained the greatest thing of all. That no material good in the world could replace. Diamonds, silver, gold, gems, they all were so dull in contrast to. . . to what? He paused in the shower as the water ran over his body. He looked through the clear curtain in the enclosed room at her belongings now cluttering parts of the counter where they had been pushed to the corners like an unwanted thought. _Linaria?_The viscous lather of shampoo and body wash filled Cayne's nose yet again. It paled in comparison with the scents from before, but, it was pleasant to have an aroma of spice and flower replace the must of broken wood and shattered metal. It was amazing what a simple shower could do. His hand was no longer stinging, so quickly mended, and free from the acrid stain of crimson liquid on his fist. He began to turn again, this time rinsing what soap and suds were left on his body. After several more moments of making certain the water had cleaned his frame thoroughly, Cayne switched off the shower's knobs and briskly stepped out of the tub, sighing heavily. A sigh of. . . acceptance. Something nagged in his mind as he rubbed the towel over his lithe frame. He reached toward the toilet where he usually kept clothes folded. . . crap. Linaria could hardly hear the knocking at the bathroom door. She could have sworn that the shower had been off for a bit longer than usual. Now this was her answer why. The mug of tea clinked the tile counter top as she swiftly walked to the restroom door within her bedroom. "Cayne?" Linaria called as she tapped back on the wood. "Yeah..." Was the only reply back. "Whats up? Something wrong?" Queried the vixen, totally oblivious to the panic that was creeping up Cayne's spine on the other side of the door. "Do you have any spare clothes?" He asked. Linaria looked around for a second before realizing she had planned to do laundry tomorrow, and all her spare clothes were gone. Not to mention that they wouldn't fit him anyways, he would be too big. "I'm afraid not," replied the vixen, half-sorry half-mischievous, "I don't mind if you just come out, though not like anybody else is here." Silence filled the room as the fox femme awaited a response. The concept of what the young woman suggested no doubt cluttered Cayne's mind with want and fright. Soon, he finally mustered a response, though the youth's voice was so mumble-infested she had to strain to hear what he was saying. "You don't have a blanket or sheets do you?" Linaria didn't even wait to reply. Attentively, the fox femme strode to the bed, taking the thick blanket off from the velvet sheets. She rapped on the door again. This time it opened a sliver, only enough to yank the blanket through in haste. Linaria giggled while Cayne fussed in the restroom. She had seen everything in the mirror next to the door. It only took Cayne a few moments to wrap himself and open the plywood frame. Linaria giving him a quick look-over. "You can go to sleep if you want," Suggested the autumn haired angel, motioning to the bed. Cayne stared at her incredulously before stuttering. "T-that's your bed. . . I-I don't want to take that from you," retracted he in broken tones. He was shaking. Linaria hugged him before pulling him to the bed and forcing him down to the edge. "Oh, you wont be taking it. I'll take the other half; you're welcome to sleep in it." assured the vixen, getting a blush from Cayne even as she patted the pillow. The young human didn't move, quietly looking at the opposite wall before Linaria gave a sigh and rolled her eyes. "I have another blanket, don't worry about being body shy, ok?" Said the gene-morph, further soothing the anxious young man. She then went to the kitchen to put away her used mug and to grab an extra blanket from the closet. By the time she returned Cayne was curled up under the blanket and facing the wall. His back curved like a feline-morph's. Linaria studied him for a second before shutting the light off and walking to the bed. It was going to take a while for Cayne's retina to adjust to all the darkness, but for the foxy femme, this was nearly automatic. As such, violet hued iris' roved over the grooves of the young man's body, visible so slightly through the thick draping of covers. Wiry and smooth. A quick grin spread her thin black lips once more, unknown to the young man. Just as well, he didn't hear the slight sounds to come, view the slender black-padded paw hands go to waist, the sliding of cloth down slick, curvy hips and legs where only the laced, black g-string remained. Her sweatpants lay on the floor forgotten next to the door._Shuffle-shuffle."Are you comfortable?" came her melodic voice once again, as supple as the flesh of fruit. The vixen's body heat was drawing closer, Cayne could sense that, but nothing else, not yet. All he could feel was a weight shift on the mattress. Then the normal shifting and adjusting before one fell asleep. He didn't move. "Y-yes. . . er. . . thanks, Lina, I. . . didn't know what to do," he admitted in thanks, uncertain with what words to use in such a delicate situation. The fair bodied maiden only purred a warm coo in response. She had to tread carefully now, lest she upset him more. She took a deep breath so she wouldn't sound so rushed. All he heard was the night of the city. "I know how to make you feel better." A subtle, gentle sentence, filled with all the cunning of a fox. Clouded with so many things within his mind, the young man didn't understand what she meant. He kept quiet waiting until she spoke again. "Turn around Cayne," whispered Linaria, noting how the youth's frame went rigid for a handful of seconds, goosebumps sprawling over his skin at the grace of her voice. She wondered if he would even listen, or, worse yet, if she would add more stress and shock to his all ready taxed mind. There was an expanded moment of uncertainty. Young Cayne was quite shy in this instance, yet at the same time, curious, a small aspect of him seeking a new relief. A part of him thought it would be intriguing, to sleep while facing a beautiful fox. . . the other was scared out of its wits. He didn't know why, or understand. Lina wasn't a girl to fear. . . and she was only trying to help. Intuition made him turn around, the comfort he felt, even in this strange room, this home, made him turn around, as stressed as he was, his mind couldn't possibly get any worse a beating than it already had. The wiry-bodied fellow muttered a few incoherent phrases of uncertainty, until, finally giving way to the vixen's wish. Doing something with his legs to protect his 'modesty,' he timidly changed sides of his observation, rolling to see the barely visible outline of the spice-scented vixen. He rolled with his blanket still over him, creating a protective cocoon around him from her body. Even in the dim strokes of pale night, Linaria was still the most astounding and gorgeous girl he'd ever had the pleasure of holding in his sight. Suddenly, those odd, irrational fears he had vaporized, almost instantaneously. She was simply laying with her hand under her muzzle, with the blanket over her frame, studying him with intent eyes. Now, it was curiosity that had taken him. Cayne's thought process was clear, so it left room for wonder. Even with what had happened earlier pushed to the side he still had room to think, yes, he was a man. "Lina?" he whispered, without any other phrases to use. The silence was a brittle shell around them that could shatter like his securities he had of his home. She pulled closer to him, putting her blanket over his already covered body, watching him. His blanket was slowly pulled off while he lay in rapture. In the very next second, warm, silky fur embraced him, a heat of pleasant ambrosia like no other. Soft, succulent breasts pressed against his own torso, the nipples barely noticeable through the fabric of lace, while muzzle came to nose, arms to back, tongue so carefully flicking out to caress his lips. Oh._Cayne was frozen with shock and arousal. He didn't know how to react, what to say, or to do, even. His mind was blank, and yet, his body. . . became far more active, awake, attentive. Whilst his cognition took its time to re-cooperate, the realization his body faced swept over his flesh in a hybrid wave of hormone and adrenalin. He lay there, waiting and watching, almost waiting to see what Linaria would do next. She did likewise, the two of them almost trying to read each other. She moved her arm up, undoing her straps on the bra before feeling the release of her breasts from the constraint, whilst she slowly dragged the silk under the sheets to flick them off the side of the bed. Cayne could only watch her, mesmerized by what was happening before him. A wry, slick grin stretched Linaria's features once again, innate pleasure derived from having the young man wrapped around her fingers, so to speak. Cayne stared before pulling his arm up. Hugging her. Yes, embracing her, the soft flesh squeezing against his chest as he caressed her back. Oh gods, the vixen was warm, and he, Cayne, he needed that warmth. And it was the most comforting thing he could have. All his life, the lean bodied youth hadn't had much luck in the relationship department, so to say. Yet here was this sumptuous angel, his goddess, in the same bed, sharing this intimate moment with him, nay, giving it to him. Linaria knew this is what Cayne needed, what he ached, yearned, and pleaded for. Linaria returned the hug, tighter, until she felt something poking her. Something throbbing with her heartbeat as the autumn haired beauty lost her breath. Linaria didn't need to tell Cayne what she was going to do. With her deft hands she let go of Cayne's back as he relinquished his embrace on her, laying back somewhat as Linaria shuffled and gripped his shaft. There was no flinch as the vixen had first expected, only a weak smile as she paused, letting the moment soak in. Brushing her hand under the velvet sheets, the autumn haired angel leaned forward again, her black canid lips crashing upon Cayne's in a drawn out kiss. One filled with passion. Hence attempting to move back, however, something stopped her. Cayne's hand was around the small of her back, the other one moving up against her fur to her chest. Stopping under the crest of her breasts. A single thumb began to run the underside of her round breasts as her sensual touches ceased. His injured hand tickled her back and tail while he toyed with Linaria's nipple, pinching the hot pink tent with exploring vigor. A soft, rumbling moan emerged from the vixen's muzzle, her tail flicking to and fro in excitement, waves of stimuli panging the plump fruits of her torso. She had been so enraptured by him that she hadn't seen or felt him move lower until a sensation of wet warmth began to lick at her other rosy hill. Linaria murred in foxy chirps, chest beginning to rise and fall in steady paces while he teased her, silky globes at the mercy of the young man's ploys. So hungry to excite herself even further, Linaria used two of her slender digits to rub at the shimmering nether lips which cried out for attention, appeasing the clit with slow, tedious massaging of the neuron packed region. The vixen's arms entwined as she reached between her legs to pleasure herself, while her breasts were further presented to the young man, literally protruding out, a playground of the sexual kind for her soon-to-be partner. Cayne slowly began to succumb the hypnotic trance of the erotic dance the two were partaking in. Linaria's soft, whiskery muzzle was firmly snuggled on his right shoulder, flat tongue flitting out here and there to reassure him with loving licks, while her whining, yipping, oh her sounds. . . they were being driven directly into him, every heated breath, every searing moan. This enticed the male youth to a greater extent, gave him ideas, caused him to ponder wild, wet ideas. All of them grasped in his memory, but gone like water in the hand. Only afterthoughts left while newer thoughts cascaded into his mind and flowed past his memory. The two grand peaches that rested on his chest like a milk bearing dessert were practically beckoning to him even more now, not content with the suckling and gripping he employed on her soft breasts. Now, out of appetite, Linaria's crawling, caressing body igniting his voracity even further, Cayne grappled the two mounds with greater force, nibbling on the ring of flesh with his teeth, lips manifesting a vacuum-like sensation, as if the fox femme were to lactate and nourish him. Almost pulling, almost causing pain, but falling just short, so he hoped. Linaria flinched somewhat before giving his forehead a kiss. A part of her wanted to stop to take a break, yet. . . the other wanted more. She clamped her supple legs around his waist, wanting to keep him there forever as the vixen rolled over to straddle him. Stopped, Cayne ceased his ministrations to gaze at the lovely femme's eyes before she kissed his nose, sliding down from his stomach to the fork of his legs, leaving a moist feeling on his skin. Instinct was beginning to take over. Cayne had never been this intimate with a woman before, much less an experienced vixen who handle this erotic act like a craft. To him she worked like a piece of art and thus, much of his own body was behaving in an unsteady blur; corridors of his mind were shutting off and allowing the primordial elements within to become more prominent. Palms went to ample thighs, pupils dilated, his virgin endowment flooded with blood as the stiffness tingled with the nearing of the vixen's nether lips. His voice caught in his throat as a grunt attempted to make an escape. The slick, hot, puckered entrance to Linaria's inner walls oh so barely hugged the underflesh of his shaft, an eruption of electronic stimuli gushing through the length, in the pocket of his more sensitive area. Body tensing, grip increasing, the vixen atop him let off a few satisfied chirp-growls, the element of her own invigorated, sexual nature overlapping her civil, composed side. Steadily, Linaria raised herself to her knees to better position the entrance of her inner thighs to that of young Cayne's manhood. The sheets fell in a cascade around her, stopping at her shins, piling up in a dark mass while he looked up to see her curvaceous figure. The young man could feel his heart smashing against his chest now, harder than ever before, holding his breath as the last shred of his comprehension failed to believe that the vixen was indeed about to mate him. Only the silky hands of the autumn haired beauty soothed his tense frame, caressing his sides for both comfort and support, as her wet lips found the crown to his shaft. Smiling, she splayed her hands out on his chest for balance._Nnh!_Cayne's entire body sucked in air as seething silky walls engulfed his malehood, tender nubs and grooves massaging and snugly holding his endowment as Linaria's vaginal walls took him in, slowly, inch by inch. It almost hurt, he could feel a phantom pain that followed her taking him in. He had always thought it would be comfortable, but she gripped him so tightly it felt like a clamp was trying to strangle his manhood. But it was the best feeling he had in a long time. Like his first orgasm, but better. The juices of her moist nether mouth could be smelled even from Cayne's position, and he struggled against himself not to begin thrusting madly into her to sate the teased pleasure blooming in his loins like a supernova of Eros. Clearly the vixen was mature in her ways. As she 'sat' with the length filling her, the fox femme began to gyrate and rove about her hips, causing Cayne's shaft to be massaged and toyed with inside her, as well as caress the sensitive inner areas of her own walls, she yelping and whining in open discourse of the ecstasy consuming her pink folds. He felt her furry bottom rub his thighs as she shifted positions on his shaft, coaxing him to massage her haunches, grip the tender dives and curves of her salacious rump. Her body bucked once, rose, then dove. Slowly, with careful and thoughtful focus on each generous motion, Linaria began to command the sex drive of Cayne's youthful body, her lick, cunny nectar dripping down his length in growing copious degrees, as she kept her motions away from a linear vertical slide. He put his hands on her hips lightly, as if he were encouraging her, complimenting her, fingers tickling through the silky fur as he was indulged in the vixen's knowledgeable ways. The mature fox-morph bobbed and weaved her mate's form like a maestro in the orchestra of their joining, riding Cayne's shaft in swiveled motions, a tornado of passion and sensual extravaganza. He could see in the dark her focused facial expression as Linaria concentrated on her movements and the sensations flowing through her. Imagining what he was feeling from her movement. Cayne was very inexperienced, and this Linaria could tell. His panting, the rampart shakes in his legs and the tension in the rest of his wiry form told the lovely fox that he was close to his peak, unable to hold himself over much longer. Deciding then to forsake any lasting moments of greedy self indulgence, the vixen sped herself in the downward falling of her buttocks, no longer long, slow strokes, but quick, voracious ones, the opaque mixture of pre and honey mingling together that began to river from the two's bodies and soak the sheets beneath. Even so, they continued to move. Lewd noises now adding to their breathing. Though Linaria had the capacity to last far, far longer than this, it was something the magma-furred angel wanted for Cayne, to take his seed and his virginity on this night of many perils and pains. The animalistic breathing of her panting spewed from her muzzle, neck craned upward as she gasped for air, features growing hot as her orgasm approached. As for the young man, however, Linaria could feel his throbbing break rhythm for a split second before feeling a seething warmth shoot into her, flowing in her. The young man gasped, his groin shaking heavily, grappling his love's waist for support as the strongest, most intense peak he had ever experienced shot through him, soaking his partner's inner walls in grand amount. Yes. . . this was better than his first orgasm. Soon there was another wetness the young man felt, that being the honey of Linaria's body spilling from her womanly lips, drenching both his slowly softening shaft and the bedspread, the wiry male only letting action take place as his flesh faltered with exhaustion. Cayne could feel her leaning forward onto him, also tired from the ordeal. Even though his hand throbbed anew he lifted it up and placed it gently on her back, massaging the trail of her spine while the other brushed her hair back. Her eyelids fluttered over the violet iris' before disappearing. She was happy, the vixen, nuzzling him lovingly as her body further entwined with his to rest. The young man could sense sleep overtaking him too. The last thing he witnessed was the green glow of the alarm clock reflecting off the ceiling. . ._Tick-tick-tick-tick. . .. . . BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP I pulled the sheets over my face as the alarm clock began it's loud break into what was a peaceful sleep. The alarm clicked as my palm hit the snooze button, my throat dry, giving off a groan as my body rebelled against the notion of getting up. Whilst my eyes had yet to wear off the mist of sleep, the rest of me was coming alive, quickly. It smelled like something sweet this morning, mixed with butter and syrup, a delightful ambrosia. "Ready for the big day?" Linaria said as she peeked around the corner of the bedroom. A bamboo tray peeked around the corner, but didn't completely show itself. "Yeah, I think so," I replied before pushing the sheets down slightly. Linaria entered as if that had been a cue, balancing a tray of breakfast in front of her large belly, trying not to run into anything underfoot. Especially the cats that liked to sleep with at my feet. "Then lets go to the hospital after breakfast alright?" Linaria said as I began to eat. She placed the tray over the blankets before hugging her stomach. We wanted to see. Get an image of our future child. It would be a few more months then then, well. . . "Ready to be a daddy?" I'm. . . I'm gonna' be a daddy. I looked at the toast before picking it up feeling it's roughness in my fingers before beginning on it. I'm going to have a baby boy or girl (or a kitmutt when it's human and fox-morph genes mixed together). Was it too fast, or too slow? We'd been mated for 3 years, could Linaria and I, well. . . were we ready for a family of our own? Of course we were. Of course we were. . . = END = (KIK and GFD)