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Lana tossed the hanging towels into the bathtub, along with a blanket and a pillow. One of her pointed ears swiveled to catch the heavy thud of Tarrant's four paws echoing down the hall, breaking the rise-and-fall wail of the emergency siren half a mile away. The foxtaur slowed only as he maneuvered through the door, then dropped a couple bottles of water, granola bars, and a portable charger on the rug.

"Anything yet?" She folded the towels to line the bottom of the tub. Fortunately, the thing was sized for his stocky, six-limbed body, leaving plenty of space on all sides for her. Their phones buzzed and wailed, flashing the same alert from two minutes ago.

Tornado Warning in this area til 03:30 PM CST. Take shelter now. Check local media. --NWS

Tarrant twisted his upper torso and closed the door. "News said a funnel cloud was spotted on radar, but they can't tell if it's touched down." He bent back towards her, hands finding her sides. "Here, get in."

She didn't really need help, but he was a sweetheart. His hand stayed on her back as he climbed in and settled his lower body atop her. All she could see was his white-furred front and underside, bordered by rust-red, looming above her. She always liked the contrast with her darker fur, vulpine to lupine. Unfortunately, hiding from the wrath of nature moved 'admiring the boyfriend' rather far down the list of priorities.

"I could move up, you know," she said, though the weight of his sturdy form and the thrum of his heartbeats was too comforting for wholehearted protest. They had to crane their necks to look at each other, if she had to find a downside. "If you need room."

He shook his head and brushed her head. "I'm alright. Besides, miss the chance to be all chivalrous and protective? Nah."

The ominous creak of wind against the outer walls blew away the levity. One of his thick, dark-furred forepaws went to her shoulder. She sat back on her ankles, more easily fitting under his lower torso while the upper half leaned against the shower wall.

Red and white filled her vision as she looked up. He had his quirks, like everyone. She had doubts how he managed to breathe or eat with two torsos, even after the hundredth time looking up the anatomy. Still, he reflexive twitch of his paw at every groan of the house, the way he'd moved to stand over her, and the fondness in his amber eyes when he glanced down at her past his phone screen warmed her heart. Even if he folded towels the wrong way or snored when his nest of pillows fell apart in the middle of the night, he was erring well on the side of 'keeper.'

She almost reached for her own phone, but worrying wouldn't change things. She settled on resting a hand atop the comforting weight of the forepaw. His free hand joined the stack. The prospect of having the roof ripped away by a cyclone seemed slightly less terrible.

Slightly.

He tensed. "Funnel cloud formed." A breathless moment passed as he kept reading. "Weather watch doesn't think it'll land anywhere populated, but they're, well."

"They're unpredictable," she murmured, finishing the thought.

"Yeah. We'll see." His hand squeezed hers. "You comfortable?"

She nodded, then pulled the pillow closer. "Mostly. Hold on." It took a bit of shimmying around to make a comfortable headrest of the thing, even after enlisting a folded-up blanket. He was warmth enough. As a bonus, his hand moved to rub between her ears. She didn't even realize her tail had set to wagging until she felt it tapping the sides of the tub, his thighs, and--.

"Uh, Lana?" His voice had a tone that was both bemused and a little unsure. "Tail's a little high."

"Sorry!" She froze it in mid-wag. "Though you _did_go for the ears."

He smoothed the fur behind one with a chuckle. "Guilty as charged."

She snorted, and settled back into his embrace. Now that it was in her mind, the long fur of her tail _had_been brushing over his sheath. Too many thoughts of a cyclone tearing the roof from over their heads kept her from a better feel of that thick, mostly hidden treasure. She jumped as their phones buzzed in unison, lighting up with an update to the earlier notification. Tarrant patted her head and squeezed her shoulder, and she forced herself to relax.

"The funnel touched down in the fields south of here, but it's heading towards the nature preserve. Nothing there for a few miles." A tone sounded, and he grunted. "Only F1, might already be gone. You doing okay?"

"Okay enough." She smiled and leaned up, trying not to giggle as he somewhat awkwardly bent to kiss her. "Seriously, if you want me to move, I can."

"And what if I don't?"

"Then I guess I don't move. Even if that means my tail gets a mind of its own."

He snickered. "Ah, so you planned this out."

"Yes, dear," she said, trying to give him a flat stare. "I planned for you to climb atop me in the name of chivalry."

"You do make such cute noises when I'm on top," he mused, grinning with far too little shame.

Lana settled back on all fours, rolling her eyes, though she definitely felt like a wolf on the bottom as her rump bumped his sheath. It didn't hurt that he _was_quite warm and familiar, and apparently he thought the same as he leaned a little closer. The roof hadn't caved in yet, so lifting her hips wasn't such a bad idea, was it?

"Getting comfy, I see." He glanced down at her, eyebrow raised, expression knowing.

She tried a coy blink of surprise, but the game was up. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thinking about it."

His chuckle was easier to feel than hear. "I think my chivalry's compromised."

"I_did_offer to move. Nothing to do about it now, I guess." She licked her lips, and made a subtle sway of her hips. "Unless you'd rather have me on my back, with my legs up..."

He actually growled at that, and the paw on her shoulder tightened its grip. "Naughty wolf."

She patted that paw with a grin. "You know you love it."

"I'd keep flirting, but if we don't stop, well." He gestured the hand still holding his phone. "I'd rather be prepared if..."

She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "If we get buried in rubble, having a boner will be the least of your problems."

"Ah," he said, holding up a finger, "but why add to the list?"

The growing pressure on her rear, a firm length slipping from his sheath, belied his true feelings. If he thought to distract himself with the weather, it did little good, and she knew from experience that he was too far along, too close to her, to just ignore his arousal. She tried not to bite her lip as he slipped over her fur, tried not to move as her mind spun idle fantasies.

He refused to look away from his phone even as he reached full mast. That shaft was thick, enough that she'd needed practice to take him comfortably their first real time--had it only been eight months? Nine? She didn't care to remember. Nor did she care to ignore the weight of it on her back, the weight of _him_atop her. A tremor ran through the muscles she could feel, but there was no sense in stopping the slow motions of her hips.

"Don't start with the judging," she said, preemptively pointing up with her free hand as he finally set the phone aside. "You're the one with the boner."

"I was going to say," he murmured, smirking, "that at least we're enjoying hiding from a cyclone of death. Honestly, me, judging?" He brought a hand to his upper chest, feigning hurt. "I would never."

"Uh-huh." She really did like the feel of it. They'd been planning on some fun after dinner, insofar as a couple could plan sex, since overtime and social calls had left them hanging for--well, for several days, but it seemed like longer. Too long. That was her best excuse for hotdogging him before they were even in the clear. "Is the warning still on?"

He was starting to breathe faster, and didn't even bother looking at his phone. "Yeah. Another fifteen minutes."

Lana suppressed a sigh, frustration replacing fear now that the worst was past. Wind still gusted outside, but it wasn't likely to take half the house with it. It also wasn't likely to keep distracting from the warmth of the body atop her. Warmth enough that she wondered why she was still wearing her tank top and shorts. There wasn't much need for modesty with a cock all but digging into her back.

And was that her imagination, or a spot of dampness creeping through fabric and fur? It, too, didn't seem likely. Then again, he_was_quite messy when he got worked up.

She made a decision, or maybe just stopped caring. His paw lifted as she squirmed, wriggling out of her top. His furrowed brow got an answer as she tossed the thing aside. The pants were trickier, hardly even making it to her knees, and the awkward fumbling left her panting and muttering curses. It was enough, for the moment, and she pulled his forepaw back to her shoulder, taking comfort in the weight of it.

"Just a bit warm," she said, convincing no one.

"Uh-huh." His wry tone was an uncanny echo, but he wasn't about to complain. She'd gone braless, in part to tease him ahead of the night's fun, and he'd noticed hours ago. The paw slid down to her chest. It didn't have the dexterity to do more than rub around, and the weight-bearing pads were a little too thick and callused to caress the sensitive skin of her peaked nipple just below his touch, but he managed. The grope, and the strong heartbeats growing ever quicker where she could feel his pulse, were enough to get her thighs rubbing together.

"We're heading to the bedroom after this is over," she breathed, then planted a kiss on his foreleg. She tried to shimmy the waistband off her thighs and only succeeded in grinding against him.

He let out a huff, lower chest tensing. "No argument here." His hips moved in slower strokes, as if trying to stay restrained. It meant he'd be railing her when those inhibitions broke down.

She was rather looking forward to that, assuming she could get the damn pants off.

The breakthrough came when she leaned forward, letting her pull one leg out. This happened to coincide with Tarrant leaning back, whether to reposition himself or to help her reach. Either way, his shaft fell beside her tail as she kicked the damn fabric trap down an ankle. The question of the panties remained, but the eager taur followed her earlier motion, bumping the flat head of his cock against the remaining strip of fabric. His hips jerked, and she gasped at the sudden heat and hardness rubbing between her inner thighs.

"Damn, I keep forgetting how big you are." She'd said it under her breath, but his hearing was no less keen.

"I'll keep reminding you, then." He smirked, completely ignoring the message that flashed on his screen. There was an unspoken agreement, a mutual worry, that kept them from going too far or too fast. Barring catastrophe, they were committed, but not past the point of no return--just in case there _was_a catastrophe. "You comfortable?"

Lana shrugged, then gave a brisk nod when he stopped moving. "The towels help." Truth be told, the barely-cushioned hard plastic bottom wasn't all that cozy even before Tarrant put space at a premium. She loved him, but his lower body was larger, with thicker limbs, to support the weight of his upper torso. She'd have tender knees and weary arms for the next hour at least.

At least he was worth it.

They weren't quite in the right position for a proper mounting, but the erratic tremors and tenses of muscles, the shifting and shivering, the rubbing and grinding, all left little to the imagination. Or, perhaps, too much. Her mind found fewer and fewer objections to lifting her ass and offering herself. He'd take it in a heartbeat, she knew; that cock twitched against her crotch, and the paw-digits grew tense on her chest each time they moved enough to rub together.

Both of their phones buzzed. He groaned after it finished and reached over. She couldn't reach hers, and didn't bother trying. She'd find out soon enough. Soon enough, he stopped moving, then tapped the keys on his screen.

"What's up?" That pit of worry, nearly buried by lust, resurfaced. "How bad is it?"

He glanced down at her, muzzle slightly parted and eyes intense, and all but tossed the phone into some forgotten fold of a towel. "The warning's been lifted. We're still under watch, but the storm is almost two counties over by now."

"So, that means the bedroom is safe." She grinned and made to wriggle out from under him, but his grip kept her in place.

"It means," he said, bending his backs and turning his head so he could brush his muzzle over her ear, "the bedroom will be safe when we get out of here. Right now, though?" He growled, and nipped the pointed tip, nearly toppling her from the unexpected rush. "It means your ass is mine."

She did so love it when he took the reins. All of that strength, all the potential in those four legs, lent him more than enough power to pin her down and have his wicked way with her. Considering the teasing, she could hardly blame him, and considering the teasing, she wanted nothing less.

Her hand moved under her again, and immediately ran into a wet spot on the towels below. A drop hit her palm, and she followed the thick, slick thread up to its source. He was blissfully hard, so very hot, definitely dripping, and as questing fingers found damp fabric, she found he wasn't the only one worked up.

The press of his hips kept her from moving forward again to take off the panties. "Push them aside," he said, voice hitting deeper notes as his lungs worked. "Then guide me in."

Her own breath caught, and she bit her lip as she squeezed him. Fortunately, the fabric between her legs was thin and easy enough to move. Air, warmed by the heat of their bodies, tickled her exposed arousal. Her front dropped to the pillow, back arching. She was ready, and one last swirl of her fingers coated their already mingling juices over that glorious malehood before aiming him towards her entrance.

Much as she enjoyed when long sessions of teasing and edging finally ended in frenzied, almost desperate fucking, Tarrant wasn't the only impatient one.

The moment his tip found purchase, those powerful hips tried to push him deeper. Regular practice with toys--and the real thing--didn't change that she was designed for something a bit smaller. There was often resistance, a mild protest that they both knew to take seriously, as forcing the matter usually led to pain. Finally, the muscles yielded. She squirmed, borderline discomfort warring with the glorious heat and fullness.

He was big, enough that she still had to practice with toys if the real thing wasn't available, but she could take it.

"You good?" He'd bent down again, stroking her head fur.

"Yes," she said, huffing, pushing back against his hips to try and take more. Earlier words rang in her mind. "You said my ass was yours. Prove it, big boy."

A growl, deliciously deep, rumbled in his chest. The hand changed from soft strokes to a firm push, pinning her to the pillow as he moved within her, getting nice and slick. There wasn't any lube on the soap shelf--the too-small shower wasn't ideal for anything that needed it--but both of them were dripping wet with the natural stuff.

The show of force only encouraged her to relax, to let him take charge. Tarrant angled his hips, both to better mount her and to signal he was ready, ever the gentleman. A wiggle, a backward push, and he was free to drive his girth into her. She gasped, muzzle still parted, and rode the surge even as he withdrew again. The size of him, the sheer power kept barely restrained, spoke to some primal part of her. She ran a hand over his lower shoulder where both torsos met, curled her tail around his thigh and haunch, and reveled in the tension of those taut muscles.

He was bigger and stronger than any biped, but he had the intellect and control to make good use of those gifts. At least, until he couldn't help but rut her like a feral. Then it was just fun.

Despite the forepaw and hand keeping her in place, he'd started relatively gentle. It didn't last. She managed to rock back and forth, trying to match his motions while her stretched passage spasmed around him. If his body had been warm, his cock was _hot._The knot hadn't expanded yet, but she could almost feel where it would, though they'd been together enough to get very familiar with each other. She'd been afraid of it for so long, but she was built to handle a tie, even an overly large one.

The storm was far past them. The creaks of the wind and patter of rain had been replaced with the lewd, slick sounds of sex, and the heart-pounding fear gave way to heart-racing lust. She bit her lip and stifled a moan as memories drifted through the growing haze. He had guarded her, protected her. While good behavior wasn't currency for sex, she _did_feel rather magnanimous.

Something, probably her muscles squeezing, got the foxtaur to gasp and buck forward. For a biped, that would mean a nice slap of hips on ass. For Tarrant, it meant an instinctual push from a body that could easily pull half a ton of weight. The force nearly pushed her flat on her face, even with the pillow. She couldn't take many of those, but she was too busy panting, moaning, and gripping him to even think of objecting. He switched to a brisk, deep rhythm, a _thump-thump-thump_to chase the waves of shuddering pleasure.

It didn't take many of those to push her to her peak. Lana tried to warn him, but all she managed was a ragged groan, a tight grip on the foreleg planted next to her shoulder. Tarrant tried to thrust through the spasms, but even her redoubled wetness wasn't enough, and it was all he could do to hold himself inside her until the last shaking sigh escaped her open muzzle. His knot would start swelling before long, and her second wind hit as she pushed back onto him. Mine now, she wanted to say. Give it to me. She had at least one more climax in her, and she wanted that, too.

A huff came from his muzzle as he started up again, staying deep--he was close. She reveled in the brief tug on her lips when he pulled out, then the hint of resistance on the return push. The lewd, wet slurps of each motion echoed off the walls of the small bathroom. As if by instinct, she relaxed and bore down just as he thrust, and the briefest flash of discomfort came and went before his knot found its home just past the tight ring of muscle at her entrance.

"Close," he gasped, barely coherent, wholly unnecessary. "Gonna..." She tensed, he swelled, and the tie locked into place. There was a time she'd been terrified of his knot, half again as large as any she'd taken. Even though it did stretch her near to her limit, she could still manage to clench around the whole of his length, coaxing him the rest of the way. He tried to keep moving, but the tie meant all he could do was grind.

Words couldn't describe how _full_he made her, and there was only one thing left to make it better.

One last squeeze did the trick. A choked groan and tightened grip was her best warning. His climaxes weren't the most vocal events, but oh, did he make up for it. Every muscle against her back tensed and trembled, that glorious cock throbbed inside her, and then the first thick, virile load of his seed spilled into her depths. Another followed, even greater than the last, stoking the fires of her deepest urges, pushing her to share the greatest heights of pleasure with the male atop her.

She moaned, or thought she moaned, as that tension snapped and blossomed. Heat surged through her with each pulse, and it was all she could do to keep breathing and hold tight to his foreleg, digging her fingers into the pillow, arching her back, and _definitely_moaned with her next breath.

Her overworked muscles spasmed around him, coaxing those weighty balls to empty themselves until even the tie couldn't keep his essence from leaking out onto their fur and dripping to the towels below.

By some miracle she didn't collapse flat on her face, even as that relaxing, numbing blanket of warmth replaced just about every other sensation--granted, at least some of that warmth was just his fur and the comforting weight of his body. It was hard to tell after being fucked half silly by the devilishly handsome foxtaur. She hummed in satisfaction.

When she'd recovered her breath, if not her wits, she found him leaning heavily against the wall of the shower; somehow, he'd managed to keep his forepaw's grip and help support her. They weren't that tired, but between the knot and general recharging it would be an hour at least before they were back to fucking. Her knees were aching through the haze of endorphins, so maybe they'd just cuddle. Future hazy, try again later. She giggled and tilted her head upward, their lips brushing as he bent to meet her halfway.

"You know," he murmured once they'd finished the upside-down kiss, "I'm not usually happy to see storms." He took in breath and moved his foreleg to let her settle on her front. "This one wasn't so bad."

"Maybe better without the storm." She grinned, in part to hide a wince as she shifted her knees. Definitely sore. "But, you're right. Seems you were a little pent up, too?"

"What can I say? You were fantastic, as always." He stroked her head and neck, then frowned. "This isn't a comfortable position, though, is it?"

She shrugged, still quite distracted by the cock resting in her. "It's not so bad. You'll just have to carry me to bed."

"Aw, and get the sheets dirty?"

Her gaze turned smoky. "Wouldn't be the first time."

His belly tensed against her back, but his hips didn't budge. "True. They need to be washed, anyway."

"Again?" She frowned. They took turns with the laundry, but she was sure those were only two days old. Had it been two days? Her mind was still buzzing.

"Again." He leaned in, and nibbled over her ear. "If you're up for it, we can have glad-to-be-alive sex."

"We just had that."

"Nah, this was mutual-teasing-in-close-quarters sex. Very different."

"Hmm, I'm not convinced." She flipped her ear against his snout with a smirk. "If I'm up for it, you'll have to show me the difference--if I can be on my back, this time."

"Deal," he whispered, breath hot. Another nip along the edge had her wanting to squeeze her thighs together.

Just as his knot started to deflate several nibbles and murmurs down the line, their phones beeped one last time. The watch was over, leaving them with a sticky mess, a safe bedroom, and plenty of time to make more of the former in the latter. If they really got going, she'd be sore enough to almost regret it tomorrow. Almost. He was definitely worth it--even though, while he'd try to be a dear and launder the towels they'd fucked atop, he'd probably fold them wrong. Again.

Some things, you just had to live with.