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Seven times.

That ocelot made me cum seven times over the course of four hours.

Lying in my arms was a handsome nymph, the perfect man (God, why did I just quote a line from 'Vice City'? The ocelot was rubbing off on me...) with a perfect twink's body. We lay entangled together under a layer of dried sweat and cum mixing into our furry bodies. The electric touch we exchanged that night still lingered in each soft, possessive touch I held him in, from my arm wrapped around his torso to my bare ribs rising against his chest.

Cherry had already, comically out like a light the moment we lay down from the seventh round to catch our libidos. Next thing I remembered, the ocelot rolled over and his snout buried itself into my shoulder, his cool breath tickling the skin underneath. I tried shaking him awake slightly, only to then hear his snores and understand.

Sleep had always been a friend and an enemy to me; the fact I could see everything in total darkness did not have anything to do with the insomnia. Even when my body screamed for needed rest, my brain refused to surrender until it felt content by the end of the night. My vision drifted from the young man in my arms to the cabin's ugly ceiling. As I traced the growing cracks dancing in the ugly beige, I started contemplating two things at the forethought of my calculating mind:

1) Would getting up to cover us with a blanket be unnecessary?

And...

2) How the hell did he make me so vulnerable?

Vulnerability. I absolutely hated that adjective. Breaking down your protective walls to obtain intangible assets such as sexual release or a client's trust was one thing, but the ocelot cradled warmly by my side had...done something to me. I could not deny it any longer.

The thought of strangling him in his sleep made me want to swallow a bullet, suddenly. The casual, violent thoughts and strategies I'd sometimes impose at the back of my cranium no longer applied to Cherry. Ever since that first nightmare back in my apartment, any attempts to so much as imagine the thought ended in my stomach becoming queasy, like swallowing some moldy bread and drinking it down with expired milk.

What made Charlie Rochford different?

Maybe my madness had finally begun to weaken since the first murder I committed all those years ago. Maybe I was getting old. Maybe I was just overanalyzing the concept of somebody like myself actually experiencing something like love. Ruthless killing machines still held the capacity of emotion. Some still even possessed a portion of a heart. The night's events definitely disproved it, the belief I'd discarded mine a long time ago.

His body shifted closer. I sighed, resting my head back onto the pillow and placing a paw on Cherry's atop my nape. He felt so warm. So vulnerable, like me.

Little did Cherry know that I would take his word. If this 'partnership' would indeed become an actual thing, I could not let this 'love' concept get in the way of his training.

***

"OW!"

"Keep up."

"W-Wait for me!"

"Just keep up."

"Ugh!"

"Pouting again?"

Cherry rolled his eyes and eventually found enough strength to kick into the uneven earth, trailing behind me on the trail. Or rather, what I considered to be an outside trail.

A couple of days had already passed since we started exercising, preparing for the worst while planning out how to deal with Corbin, Walker and the hired assassins from Reaper's Row. During that first round of training, our routine ranged from running a marathon early each morning to teaching him how to use a (plastic, for the moment) knife in defensive postures and even one of the Five Animals in kung fu. For Cherry specifically, I decided to start tutoring him in Leopard Style, which focused on the practitioner utilizing their elbows, knees, low kicks, and punches as well as the use of claws.

"So, you know all Five Styles?"

"...for the most part. I prefer to plan attacks in advance, but it helps to be prepared for any eventuality."

"Then what's your favorite kung fu style?"

I could not help but grin. "Whatever best helps me kill my target."

It was tough, at first. Cherry didn't have the kind of build I'd expect from a snot-nosed gangbanger, let alone a professional assassin. Or rather, a professional assassin's apprentice. Meaning that, if the lithe ocelot definitely wanted to assist me in taking out the Benefactor for good, I needed him ready as he could be.

Sure, he bellyached nonstop the first day. Whining and complaining about his sore muscles, footpaws and callousing fingers. Sure, he almost refused to crawl out of bed so we could run around the property line for a good hour or so. However, I would not have this attitude, even of we did unofficially declare each other as romantic lovers the previous night.

"Are you really prepared to help me kill Corbin and Walker, or are you still that brat from the suburbs you claim not to be?" Then, as I went to the stairway door leading down from the loft, I added, "Do not disappoint me, Cherry. Now get dressed. Be outside in five minutes."

He stood outside the cabin's garage door roughly four minutes later, dressed in black sneakers, some oversized shorts and a used t-shirt from the day before. When I asked why he'd wear it, Cherry shrugged and muttered something about not wasting clean clothes.

Anyway, like I said, Cherry complained like an entitled cub the first day, whimpering as we ate some stale dinner and relaxed by the TV before going to bed. I practically heard his joints and muscles pop in each movement made, to the point it awkwardly interfered later that night as we lay cuddling.

"Can't you...go easy on me?" he groaned into my arms. "I know ya wanna get me prepared, and I want to be prepared, but still..."

"The furs after our heads will not go 'easy on us'," I used my arm to pull his unclothed torso to mine, nestling him against my chest, "Outside of the cabin, I'm your teacher. We are not lovers until we go inside. Understand?" My lips nibbled on his ear in affection, earning me a soft giggle that certainly made my member more...attentive.

"Understood, Mr. Faoláin..." he nodded. "I'll be a good student for you."

We held off on the roleplay and simply went to sleep. No need to make him hurt. After all, we still had much to do to prepare him. And me.