FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Took a big break from writing for a couple reasons; figured this would be a good way to break back into it. I've been frustrated with my slow pace of writing lately, so wrote this several months ago as a quickwrite--minimal editing, just one night of writing--and was very happy with the results.

This is disjoint from my series Black and White, set a couple of years down the line. Similar Fox and Wolf, but not the same timeline. No spoilers. Stay tuned for Black and White updates in the future, but in the meantime, enjoy this little bit.

Enjoy! Also, I'm always looking for other writers to chat with and bounce ideas off (somehow I know very few), so feel free to send me a message if you like my stuff.

---

"How many we got?"

"Three, four, judging by that ship."

Wolf's voice crackled in his ear despite him only being two feet away, but even then, it was barely audible above the weary creaks of the locking mechanism docking their little craft to the station. Fox couldn't see Wolf's snout through the glass of his helmet, and there was barely room for the two of them in the airlock when they both had their blaster rifles.

No matter how long they did this, there was always a little part of Fox that couldn't decide for sure if gearing up with the man who for thirty years had been his enemy was a good thing.

"We're not gonna have much time," Wolf said, as the door latched into place. A loud hiss sounded, and it slowly died as the air sucked away, leaving them in near-silence. "They've got about ten minutes on us."

"Gotta be fast. Doors opening. Let's move!"

The latch creaked open, and together, the two of them leapt in. The station was pitch-black save the blaring red flashes that came with each silent scream of the alarm. Aside from an enormous server rack up against the back wall, the first room was empty. Fox kept his rifle held in front of him and used its light to scan. One quick pass by eye, then a glance down at the sensors on his comm. "Clear."

Fox had already turned his body towards the left corridor when Wolf's voice blared in his ear again. "Sure you can handle yourself all alone?" He could hear the sneer on his rival's face.

"I oughtta be asking you that, old man." Fox kicked off down his path.

The air was intolerably thin, but at least the gravity was adequate. That's about what you'd expect on a science vessel, where oxidation and humidity and telluric lines (Fox never bothered to ask Slippy what that meant) were always the enemy. It was just inviting enough to make it accessible to the occasional maintenance crew, and every room Fox pushed through was a mess of tools, electronics, and bizarre scientific instrumentation. He'd memorized the ship's layout and used that to guide him, but he had to keep his eyes open for their little thieves. The constant shift in intensity from that overbearing red light had his eyes reeling, unable to decide if his pupils wanted to dilate or shrink.

Four turns into his journey, the hall ahead opened into another large room, and Fox's light shined on the glint of an ape's spacesuit. Instinct kicked in: before he could even process the sight, Fox had his rifle trained on him and he dumped a good five or six blasts before ducking back around the bend and resting his back against the sharp metal of the wall. Blaster shots slammed into the hull just past where he'd been standing a few moments earlier, and he held up an arm to shield himself from any of the plasma that bounced back his way.

Wolf's voice sounded in his ear: "You know, Fox, there are much better ways you could wake me up at three in the morning."

Fox gripped his gun with both hands and laughed. "Don't get your hopes up." He turned, and when he couldn't see the ape in his line of sight, crept forward. Down the corridor he went, one slow step at a time, until he came to the open doorway. Then, he lurched forward into the room and spun to his left.

The wretch was waiting for him, blade drawn and shimmering with energy: one good smack with that thing would stun him, even through the suit. Fox saw his arms reel back in preparation for a strike, and that was about the stupidest thing the oaf could have done.

Fox's foot slammed into the ape's knee, and a moment later, the butt of that rifle smacked into the thief's chest. A final crack to the head was enough to shatter the glass of the ape's helmet.

"Amateur," he muttered. He gave the ape's form a kick, then stooped over to cuff him. His gear was all fairly standard and there was nothing that could obviously identify him. Fox stripped off his comm and stood.

"Hey, Wolf. Ran into an ape who looked like he mighta taken a few pages from your book. Dropped him in three seconds flat. I swear, they're getting worse."

He passed the ape's comm in front of his own and scanned it for ID, sucking his teeth when nothing interesting came up. Must just be thugs looking to swipe and sell the data. No surprise; Slippy'd said this place wasn't exactly well guarded, ever since the experiment hit the end of its planned life.

"Not on any team as far as I can tell. Probably gangsters, thugs, low-lifes." He waited a few moments for Wolf's voice to sound, but got nothing Fox bared his teeth. "Wolf? Wolf. Answer."

Damn it. Fox dropped the comm, turned back around, and rushed towards Wolf's position. He was halfway there when he finally heard his voice. "I had three of those fuckers on my ass. I'm up two on you, Fox."

Fox let the momentum in his steps die until he came to a halt. His breaths were strained; sprinting in all this gear wasn't easy. "And you didn't call for help? You'd really do anything to one-up me, wouldn't you?"

Wolf's laugh sounded breathy. "Get your ass over here and let's clean up. I..." Come to think of it, he sounded a little ragged. "Took a pretty nasty shot."

Fox frowned. "I'll be right over."

---

"Shit, that doesn't look good..."

Wolf's upper arm was damp with blood. He dismissed Fox's concern with a wave of his other hand. "Ain't as bad as it looks."

Crouched on his knees in front of the couch, Fox balled up Wolf's undershirt and set it aside on the little coffee table behind him. Just behind that was the big black science-box Slippy had wanted them to rescue, and the assortment of data drives logged from the instrument lay right atop it. Fox wasn't so concerned with that at the moment, though; he was too busy dabbing a wet rag at Wolf's wound and mopping up the mess.

"Still hurts," Fox said. Wolf hissed out when he pressed a little more firmly. "See?"

Wolf responded by leveling a middle finger at Fox with his other hand.

"You're such a child." A hand dipped into the medkit, and out came the blaster burn ointment. A generous squeeze went onto his own fingers, then he rubbed it carefully into Wolf's wound. A decade ago he could have never seen himself treating this man, of all people, but here he was, trying to apply as little pressure as he could to minimize the number of middle fingers he got.

"Took worse hits when I was a child. You know, I could do this on my own, Fox. You're so damn slow."

Fox met his eye. This was one of the rare times Wolf's bad eye went uncovered; the scouter had come off with the suit, and Fox was quick enough to push Wolf down against the couch that he hadn't had time to grab the eyepatch. The long gash over his eye never failed to look gruesome; the fur there had never quite regrown right. It was just one of many scars accumulated over the canvas of his form throughout the years, most of which were hidden away by his daily clothes.

Fox balled up the fist that wasn't coated in burn ointment and jabbed it right into Wolf's gut. The blow made him lurch, but he didn't return fire. "Oof."

"Stop whining. You're lucky we were wearing suits. These new blasters are no joke."

Wolf let his head rest against the top of the cushion and tried to relax himself while Fox worked. He sighed. "Better have been worth it. What the hell is in there, anyway?"

Fox mimed Slippy's voice: "Fiber spectrograph. Something about looking for planetoids to mine, or something. I don't know." His fingers were done with the worst of the torture. He recapped the tube and pulled out the gauze and pad he needed to dress the wound. Everything flew by on autopilot; he'd done this hundreds of times throughout his life.

"Important enough that someone wanted it pretty bad, huh? Maybe they found something big."

Fox wound the gauze around Wolf's arm, then snipped it off from the roll with a claw. A couple pieces of tape and he was done. He stood back up and looked down at Wolf. "You'd leap for a fight even if it was over nothing, Wolf."

The only response to that was an amused flick of Wolf's ears. He'd lifted his arm up and worked it through the full range of motion, testing his flexibility. The ointment would do its magic, but it needed to be applied steadily.

"I'm gonna have to wear this shit for a week, aren't I?"

"Yup. Hey, that's what you get for trying so hard to impress me."

"Oh, please." Wolf gave him a shove that nearly made his back ram into the coffee table. "Fight was over in twenty seconds. Like you woulda had time to-motherfucker."

Fox had pressed his palm to that wound, just firmly enough to cause a jolt of pain. He ducked back before Wolf could grab at him. Wolf tried to look pissed, but as a couple seconds rolled by, his lips broke into a slight grin.

Fox met it with one of his own. "I'm gonna call Slippy and report in. See ya soon."

---

Wolf was seated at the little desk in his bedroom when he finished, just like he always was. The lamplight shone down, illuminating the little bits and pieces of his disassembled blaster, organized and spaced meticulously. Wolf had a cloth running through the barrel, mopping up the burnt gunk that high-temperature plasma tended to leave behind as residue. He had on that gray sleeveless shirt he always wore at night, and the strap of his eyepatch could be seen flattening a line of fur around the circumference of his head. Learning that Wolf was a creature of routine had been one of the more surprising steps along his journey.

Fox took a seat on the edge of the bed and watched. Wolf always focused so hard on the things that he did; every motion was deliberate, even when it was something he did almost daily.

"The count matched," Fox said. "We got it all, so we're good to go. We can leave."

"Good. Last thing I wanna do is put that suit back on."

Fox pushed up off the bed, then came up behind Wolf and settled his palms down on his shoulders, feeling the cool synthetic fiber of his shirt. He could feel the slight shift of muscle beneath Wolf's fur every time the older man's hands danced over the carcass of that gun.

"...I'm trying to work here, Fox."

"If you take another shot like that this month, Wolf, I'm gonna have to kick your ass back to Meteo."

Wolf was twirling a screwdriver against the chassis, locking the barrel back into place. He paused midway through a turn and twisted his head back. "Didn't know I'd signed up on a team with my mother. Can you-for fuck's sake, Fox, I'm trying to..."

Fox's hands had slid lower, first along Wolf's upper back, then over his sides, and finally, down his sculpted chest. He spread his legs and sank down against the back of that chair until his mouth was almost level with Wolf's ear. By the time he came to a halt, he had both of his arms locked around Wolf's midriff, palms resting up against his belly. Fox took in a deep breath; by now, he knew Wolf's scent well.

Wolf's protests died on his lips, and he didn't fight back; he just relaxed against the back of the chair and let his shoulders slump down. Fox could feel Wolf's pulse against his arm, enough to feel the way it slowed, just the way it always did when he got in this close. Ten peaceful seconds passed, and in the emptiness of space, they had nothing but the sound of their breaths for company.

These little moments were the ones that people would never expect them to share.

Wolf's hand brushed against his wrist, then encircled it with his fingers. Those pads were cold to the touch. Fox craned his head up slightly, so that he could speak into his companion's ear.

"Five in the morning's just as good as three, no?" He leaned in just a bit closer, and his words took on an edge. "Unless you're too hurt..."

Wolf bared his teeth up at Fox and growled. "Give me five minutes, and we'll see who ends up limping when I'm done with you."

Fox grinned back and gave the fur between Wolf's ears a squeeze. "Take your time, Wolf. In the meantime, I'll help myself."

Fox slipped down to his knees and settled between Wolf's legs. As expected, Wolf tried to ignore him, but let Fox spread apart his legs. The view down here was fantastic. Thick thighs flowed into a weighty bulge, barely contained by Wolf's shorts. A few tugs pulled them down--he never got tired of seeing Wolf's sheath unfurl--and a couple of moments later, Fox had his nose parked right at the base of that sheath. His nose ducked lower, beneath those balls, and took the weight of them across the bridge of his nose. With his nose-tip parked against the older man's taint, he took in a deep breath... then out slipped his tongue, licking in one long motion from taint to the base of Wolf's sheath, letting those nuts roll over his snout during the process.

Wolf didn't shove him away. Above, Fox could hear the sound of that screwdriver working.

Fox took his time. There was no rush, considering Wolf was still distracted cleaning his gun. His tongue worked in idle motions all around Wolf's sheath and sac, watching Wolf's crimson length rise up out of its prison. Soon, beads of pre were pooling at its tip, dripping down the contours of his cock in rivulets. It wasn't until Wolf came to full hardness that Fox finally let his tongue taste it.

He smacked his lips. Hefting Wolf by the base, he took a moment to admire the weight of it. "You can only ignore me for so long," he said, then leaned back in.

Fox had few weaknesses as potent as Wolf's cock. Maybe it was the astounding girth, or the way it made him feel small by comparison. Or maybe it had everything to do with the brute of a man it belonged to, the repugnant criminal who'd been his nemesis for well over half of his life, but now was endless fuel for his lust. Fox only needed a single lick to spur a craving--no, a need--for more. His tongue gathered pre during its ascent towards the tip, coaxing out a moan from his lips, and by the time he sealed the leaking tip into his maw, Fox had pulled down his own shorts and closed a hand around himself, too.

One hand held Wolf steady by the base while he sucked on the tip, letting pre pool in his mouth. He swallowed a mouthful of the stuff, and then, ducking his head lower to get a better angle, he took more in, letting Wolf's tip go right at his throat. With another moan, it pushed in. Deepthroating Wolf was a challenge, and it took him several seconds to work himself all the way down, but it was so worth it, if not for the way it made his own cock throb, then for the groan he coaxed from the wolf who was pretending to ignore him.

With one hand wrapped around his own cock, Fox bobbed his head. In, out. In, out. Wolf's tip never unplugged his gullet. He could get off doing this--hell, he had, plenty of times, but for now, Fox just edged himself. He was just about to back out for air for the first time when Wolf's hand came down on the back of his head, forcing him all the way down and choking off his breath.

Fox sputtered. All it took was that one aggressive move to push him to the realm of blistering horniness. He couldn't see Wolf's head with the table in the way, but he could hear the older man growl. Soon after, Wolf was gripping Fox by either side of the snout, edging his head back, just to shove it back down in time with a hump of his hips.

Fox's ears pinned down to his skull and he went limp. His lungs were screaming for mercy, but his cock was on fire, and at this point he had to let go of it or he was actually going to cum. Wolf used Fox's throat like an incredibly tight fleshlight, and the apex of each thrust made him moan out around the intrusion.

Finally, Wolf forced his head all the way off. His tip slipped out and Fox took in a deep breath. Wolf's chair scooted back, and Fox followed by crawling forward, craning his head in towards his old rival's cock.

A hand stopped his head from going any farther and forced Fox to look up; now, they could see each other. Wolf was amused.

"The Hero of Lylat sure is one horny bitch."

"Problem?" His eyes glanced down to Wolf's cock. It looked almost grotesque now, with all the strands of saliva hanging off it. "I want more."

"Greedy whore." Wolf reached down to grasp at Fox's shoulders, and a few moments later, Wolf had thrown him on the bed. "Up," he barked.

Fox braced on his hands and knees.

Some people grew bored with the familiar. Fox wasn't one of them. He knew exactly what was going to happen: he'd get a drizzle of cold lube right under his tail, followed by Wolf's tip shoving in, and ending with an assault from Wolf's hips. He kept his legs spread and tail up in anticipation. Knowing what was coming just made the agony of not knowing the moment all the more excruciating.

Feeling the splash of lube under his tail made him suck in a sharp breath, and it was only a few seconds later that Wolf was splitting him open. No amount of experience with Wolf's girth could ever make the pain of that first push go away, especially when Wolf wasn't trying to be gentle, and when Wolf's hands came down on the back of Fox's head and forced it down into the pillow, it was clear Wolf wasn't going easy.

Wolf was punishing him. Punishing him for all the teasing, punishing him for getting fewer bogeys, and punishing him for the interruption. The thrusts came hard and deep; with Wolf's size and no prep, it burned, but it was a burn Fox was used to, and one he'd come to crave. The pillow deprived him of sight and kept him from breathing. The world reduced entirely to the powerful grunts and thrusts of the man above him, and the surging adrenaline made it all a heated blur.

But Fox was hard the whole time, and it didn't even take Wolf's knot swelling in his rear to get him off: his old rival fucked an orgasm right out of him. Fox's moans crescendoed to a climax, and by the time he came down from the high of his orgasm, he could feel Wolf's knot swelling in his ass.

Wolf's grip on his head slowly relaxed, and Fox tilted his head to the side to finally get some fresh air--fresh air that was tainted with the scent of sweat and lube.

Sex with Wolf was good--so good--and he'd be lying if he said it wasn't one of his favorite aspects of their partnership. It didn't come as often now as it did when they first hooked up, but it was still just as good.

In the aftermath, Fox looked back at him, exhausted, painting. Minutes passed, the silence interrupted only by their panting, before Fox finally broke it:

"I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow."

"Your own damn fault," Wolf said. His fingers rubbed between Fox ears; Fox's eyes closed, and he let himself relax.

---

It was a while later when Fox emerged from the shower, fur freshly clean and mostly dry. Wolf was waiting for him, sprawled on the bed with his arms hiked up, hands behind his head. He was grinning.

"Someone's looking happy tonight." Fox headed over and crossed his arms, looking down at Wolf. "Maybe I oughtta shoot you in the arm every now and then, if it'll keep you from being grumpy."

"We make a good team."

Fox took a seat on the edge of the bed and tilted his snout back towards Wolf, whose bare lower body was hidden beneath the blanket. "We were split up the whole mission. You're just saying that because I let you fuck me."

"Let you? Hah. Like you'd take no for an answer." Wolf reached behind his head, clutched a pillow, and hurled it at Fox, who caught it and thumped it against the bulge Wolf's legs made under the covers.

"Gonna have to cancel that seminar if we want any sleep," Wolf said. He lazily pawed at the pillow, but Fox jerked it back before he could get a grip. "What's it gonna be? I can do either way."

There was a time, not too long ago, when Fox would have insisted they could still make it. Now? He was tired. Wolf was tired and wounded. The seminar started in two hours, and that was barely enough time to get dressed and fly to Corneria. He'd have no time to review material, and he'd be utterly exhausted.

So Fox nodded. "I'll cancel. Shit happens. I should probably send a message... give me a minute." He tossed the pillow back at Wolf, who fluffed it and tucked it back under his head.

Fox grabbed his comm off the table and brought up the mail app, hitting reply to that last message from the flight academy colloquium coordinator. He could reschedule the master class for another day, but he couldn't postpone a break-in. He kept the message pretty terse, and once he sent it, he turned his head back to Wolf.

Wolf looked thoughtful. His head was resting back against the pillow; he'd folded his hands on his chest, and his eyes were cast up to the ceiling.

Fox squinted. "Hey. What's wrong? Something on your mind?"

Wolf took in a deep breath, then shook his head. He was trying to hide the way his ears drooped down, but that didn't work on Fox. In the beginning, Wolf had been awful at sharing his thoughts. It no longer took a long, drawn-out argument to get him to speak up, but Fox still needed to apply a little bit of pressure. He got the hint when Fox still didn't look away; he sighed and cleared his throat. "Bah. It's dumb. Just, when I think about it, that wouldn't have happened ten years ago. Used to be I could take four idiots all by myself and come out without a scratch."

It took Fox a moment to figure out what that meant. His eyes went to the bandage on Wolf's arm. "Don't be ridiculous, old ma--" His mouth snapped shut. That certainly wasn't helping.

Fox sat down on the bed and scooted over right next to his old rival. He took a moment to find the right words. "Ten years ago, I was wiping the floor with your ass in the skies, Wolf. You weren't invincible then, and you still aren't now." He paused to think. "You still have a lot of years left in you, even if you fuck up and take a hit every once in a while."

It took a few moments for the words to go through, but they did their job: Wolf's ears refound most of their confidence, and the corners of his mouth eased upwards. The words were meaningless--nothing Wolf didn't know already--but having Fox at his side always seemed to help. That was one thing the older man wasn't used to: having a partner. He held out a hand that Fox promptly grasped. It was firm-like a handshake.

Wolf met his eyes. "I don't know how long we're gonna be doing this, Fox." He squeezed down hard, then let go of Fox's hand and let that arm just rest by his side. "But it ain't too bad a life, and part of me will always wish we'd done it longer."

Fox's tail would have wagged, if not for Wolf's somber tone. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

Wolf pursed his lips. "...not that I didn't like that gig at Sargasso. And I miss it, sometimes, just..." He shook his head, like he shouldn't have said that. "Ah, fuck, I don't know what I'm saying. Too damn tired to be talking."

Fox met those words with a grin that was only a little bit forced. "Fuck those aparoids for not showing up five years earlier, right?"

Wolf shoved him. A moment later, Wolf was sitting up, and those same arms were pulling him back.

"C'mere..."

Fox settled down into the bed, and as his eyes closed, he felt Wolf's arm rest against his side. Fox's rear pressed against his sheath, but the fire had died off, leaving just the warmth of two burned-out bodies pressing together.

Who knew what tomorrow would bring? They were just two men wafting through the days of their lives one at a time, trying to figure out the world at the ripe ages of thirty-two and forty-one. Ten years ago, it had all seemed so straightforward, and to Fox, everything looked so black and white. So much had changed since then, not the least of which was their sharing a bed. There were young upstarts rising in the ranks, and new storied pilots graduating the academy. They were getting old.

The ship felt lonely with only two inhabitants. He didn't have Slippy croaking in his earpiece. He didn't have Falco watching his back, and he didn't have Peppy to look up to anymore. Those were all memories now, held as close to his heart as any could be.

Just Fox. Just Wolf. It wasn't good, and it wasn't bad. It's just the way things were.

The world melted away into nothingness.