Fulfillment
#6 of Fae's Flash Fiction
I got bored. I decided to write something very short, and this is what came out. I may do more super-short stories like this, if people like them. Not all of them would be sexually-inclined, but it was certainly a fun little diversion. Interesting to write, as well! So! Let me know what you think of this little experiment, and I hope you like it!
- Fae
Fae's Flash Fiction - Fulfillment
It wasn't that the lithe little fox couldn't do more. He wanted to do more. He always wanted more. It was what got him into his mess in the first place. He didn't hate that he fit the sterotype. He didn't hate the way he was treated. He hated how much he wanted. How much he needed. One wasn't enough for him. Not nearly enough.
Music blared. It bled through the walls. He could feel it rattle his bones with its subtle, rhythmic vibrations. His fur bristled. His skin tingled. His sheath thickened. He watched. He listened. He waited.
It was where everyone went to pick up. It was where everyone in the city would go, if they wanted to find a fresh partner for the night. If you needed cock, or a snug piece of ass to stuff it in, then that was the club for you. Half the people that got lucky did it elsewhere in the club. Only half. The other half went home. Back to that place that was all theirs. No one else's. Shared, but never taken. The fox wondered what such a place was really like. He wondered why anyone would want to leave.
No place like that for him. Just four walls, close around him. Here, he felt warm. Here he felt more at home than at home. Here he was master of his domain. Here, they came for him.
Creak. Clang. Click. The fox's ears perked. His head turned. His heartbeat quickened. The music picked up. Shadow came. The fox held his breath. The shadow went. He felt his ears droop, as his eyes tore from the little hole in the wall. The shadow went. He didn't stay. The other male hadn't come for him. He hadn't come for him.
But then. Then. Then the shadow was back, as if its owner finally realized where he was. What he could do. Who waited for him on the other side of that flimsy wall. A probing finger explored the rim, pointed out a little. Wiggled.
It was all the invitation the fox needed. His knees hit the tiles. Cold. Damp. Ignored. His paws pressed delicately against the wall. Green. Wooden. Unimportant. His tongue flicked out to daintily dance across the top of that black-furred finger. Flesh. Heat. Male. The heat swept through him. His ears tipped back. His muzzle parted. The fingertip was engulfed. The query, answered.
The fingertip withdrew into the shadows beyond the circle. There was a whine - the fox was almost sure it came from him. He pressed against the wall. His jeans, almost too tight even for the shapely little vulpine he was, tented. There was need beyond that wall. The male there needed him. He'd come, now he had to stay. He had to stay.
He stayed. Musk slapped the fox across his muzzle. Pant, pant. Eyes fixed on the hole as pink emerged from the shadow. Long. Thick. Barbed. Feline. Closer. Closer. Closer. Through. In.
The taste of male swept across the fox's tongue. His lips sealed around the offered length. His to tend. His to taste. His to enjoy. There was a moan - the fox knew it was his. Too muffled for the feline. Thud against the wall; kitty liked what he was doing. He was a good fox. His lips were spread. Slick fluid assailed his tongue. Heaven. Almost heaven, at least.
Small hole. The fox couldn't get his muzzle through. Kitty was humping, but not far enough. He couldn't get all of that maleness, couldn't taste every inch. The feline was holding back. Good fox wasn't good enough. His tongue curled along and between those barbs. They scraped the roof of his muzzle as he worked down over them. He moaned louder; they like it when he moans. The kitty liked it when he moaned. He humped harder.
He was a good fox. The feline gave him everything. He enjoyed it. He savoured it. He tasted every inch, caressed it with his tongue, explored it completely. Scent and taste mingled. Heat in his mouth. Cold on his knees. Tightness in his jeans. Tightness of his lips. His moans of need. The kitty's moans of pleasure.
Heat. Seed. Saltiness. The taste of a male. It all washed over the fox's tongue. He didn't waste a drop. He swallowed it all down. He felt every pulse, every twitch. The barbs scratched his tongue. He didn't care. He refused to care. He'd been rewarded for his efforts. Good fox. Good fox.
Click. Creak. Clang. Shadows moved. Shadows left. The fox sat back up in the dirty bathroom of the club and smiled. He was warm. He was fulfilled, for a time. Only for a short time.
Only until the next male came for him.
And thusly, it ended. Very quickly. That was the point. What'd you think? Let me know! Leave a comment, score, fav, all that fun stuff you do. Hope you enjoyed!