Bandits!
#1 of Bandits
Two-day quickwrite; an experiment in style that runs opposite to "Fuck, he's huge."
I am kindasorta looking for someone serious about writing who will work with me as an editor whenever I find time to write stuff. Contact me at [email protected] if you're interested.
When he'd first taken the shortcut, Grayson didn't count on being face to face with a young male wolf and cougar, the former's shortsword poking his chest.
The woods had been quiet that day, save for the crackling of branches underneath the fox's feet. His bag of market goods had swung in his paws, heavy enough that his arm burned from holding it, but light enough that it wasn't crippling. He hadn't considered that he'd be the perfect target for the highwaymen. Actually, he'd found it oddly peaceful; the forest had been surprisingly quiet, far enough away from the busy path that no sounds came through.
It had been a bit too quiet--and he hadn't noticed it until it was a bit too late.
When he'd stepped into the clearing, the bandits sprang from the brush, and before the fox had time to collect himself, he was pinned, cursing his luck and his own stupidity for building his house a good fifteen minutes' walk from Delia. He couldn't dwell on that too long, because the tip of the wolf's blade pricking his chest was just a little bit distracting, and the cougar, back several feet, had a shortbow aimed right at him. The bandits' clothes were stained and worn, with threads sticking out of the bottom, and they were both young, looking like they were not even out of their teens.
The wolf growled at him, prodding him with the sword. Pity balanced with fear, and the fox sighed, dropping his bag at his side. He slowly reached into his pocket and withdrew the few gold coins that he still had, placing them inside the bag. But the wolf growled and dragged the tip of the sword across the fox's chest, snagging it on the soft fabric.
The bandit had a good eye. Grayson's hand-woven clothes were probably his most valuable possessions; his wife had tailored the cloth for him, and the wolf was built similarly, so the clothes would probably fit. But that would leave the fox with nothing, and he was far too poor to afford the loss of his clothes and his goods--but the loss of his life from protesting was a bit too high of a price for him to pay Grayson silently slipped off his shirt, and when the wolf probed at his pants, he did the same. Soon his underwear was off too, and he was nude, covering himself with a hand. Grayson couldn't help noticing that the wolf's eyes lingered just a little too long on his groin. Oddly, it made the fox snicker.
The wolf snarled, and lunged forward. Grayson fell hard on his back, the force of it sending his legs straight up. He kept his tail wrapped tightly against his backside the whole time, but he thought he saw the youth's eyes following it, trying to get a glimpse of what lay beneath. The cougar watched from afar, bow still ready, but less tense. It hit Grayson that it was possible he might die within the next few seconds.
Before either of the bandits moved, the fox adjusted himself, relaxing his tail and pushing out his rump so that he was presenting his tailhole to the wolf. It was a classic gesture of submission--the wrong-doing submissive would lift his tail in front of the alpha, who may or may not penetrate him as a reinforcement of authority. But the wolf's eyes held no such pretenses of authority, only raw lust. He made no move to act on it, though--despite his arousal, his lupine instincts read it only as submission. He grunted, signifying that the submission was acknowledged, and that the fox was free to go.
At that point, the natural thing for Grayson to do was get up and run, but the fox didn't move. He bit his lip, keeping his rear exposed. He made eye contact with the wolf, and he saw it click on the wolf's muzzle: the fox was presenting himself for sex, not submission. The wolf's face lit up, and he grinned, looking over at the cougar, who in turn just motioned back at Grayson.
Now that the fox's intentions were clear, the wolf made no move to hide his arousal. Before, arousal would have been seen as a lack of restraint, but now it was a symbol of power. He stroked the crotch of his pants, unashamed--no, proud--of the motion. The sword slid out of his paw and dropped to the grass, and soon, the wolf followed.
Grayson found himself blushing. In order for the wolf to so readily drop his guard, it must have been obvious that the fox wanted it pretty badly. Originally, Grayson wasn't so sure that he did; he just wanted his stuff back. If the wolf enjoyed himself enough, the bandit would owe him enough not to rob him blind. But he had to admit to himself that, on some level, the thought of being with the wolf appealed to him, because otherwise his heart wouldn't be pounding so hard, and his sheath wouldn't have been so full. He hadn't been with a male in years, which, in his opinion, was far too long.
Grayson felt a cold wetness under his tail-the wolf's nose. The wolf inhaled, the rush of air tickling the fur on the fox's backside. He sniffed for a long while, making Grayson wonder if this was his first time. All those doubts went away when he felt the wolf's tongue.
At first, his tongue glided lazily across the fox's opening, then the bandit growled, and it plunged inside. Grayson cried out; he hadn't been expecting it, and the wolf must have misinterpreted his yelp, because a strong paw grasped around his hip and held him still. Grayson shivered, wondering how many bitches the wolf had given this treatment; it certainly wasn't something you usually got from younger males. The fox's wife had never done it to him, so it had been years. There was nothing quite like it, and he always loved it, evidenced by his own throbbing length, fully out of its sheath, the knot already starting to bulge. He dared not touch it, though, lest the wolf stop.
He lost track of how long the wolf ate him out, completely lost in the feeling of the slick, wet muscle exploring him. The few times he'd been rimmed in the past, it had only been a few quick licks to the hole, nothing else. But the wolf licked over his whole rear, tongue sliding down his crack, teasing his rim, penetrating his pucker. Every time he thought the wolf was done, he'd just backed off to lick his lips, spread the fox's cheeks wide, sniff at his entrance, and bury his tongue deeper. His tongue was surprisingly long, and it slipped just deep enough to graze the fox's prostate, making him suck in a breath. For a while, Grayson was afraid; he had to wonder how big the wolf was, if he thought he needed all this lube. But when the wolf's tongue circled just outside his rim, never quite touching his entrance, he realized he was being teased.
The wolf was being thorough, making sure the fox enjoyed it just as much as he did. The rules stated that Grayson should be passive and indifferent the whole time, if he wanted to substitute sex for surrendering his belongings. But the fox was enjoying it a bit too much for that, and he decided that maybe it didn't matter so much; the more tongue the wolf gave him, the less he started caring about the rules. At first, the fox had tried to quiet his sounds, but as time went on, he had no such inhibitions, and he never could've stopped the bursts of pre coming from his own shaft
The bandit tugged on Grayson until he flipped over and was on his knees, only to have the wolf's muzzle again planted firmly under his tail, the lupine tongue ravaging his backside. Grayson bit his lip, trying to keep from crying out, and before he could stop himself, he had reached back and put a paw on the wolf's head, forcing him farther in. He couldn't help whining and pressing back. The youth would tease the fox for a bit, until Grayson was whining, begging for more; then he'd would smack his lips and make out with the fox's rump, deeper than he'd ever been kissed.
The wolf's tongue was slowly circling the fox's cheeks when he slipped a finger inside. Tongue soon joined finger, grazing his rim as the thin digit entered him over and over again. When the finger came out, he got a quick but broad lick up his crack before the wolf backed away. A firm paw grabbed his tail and jerked it out of the way.
Grayson felt cold air hit his damp backside. Panting, he looked back at the wolf, who was struggling to pull down his pants. He wondered how he looked; his rear would be soaked with saliva, cheeks spread, the pink of his tailhole spread open slightly, both from the attention and his own anticipation--and he was looking back, panting, and though he tried to mask his need with a look of uncertainty and indifference, he knew it wouldn't work, and his facial expression probably conveyed something similar to, Hurry up and do me. He hadn't taken anything under the tail for several years, and he was surprised at how much the thought was exciting him. He could feel his tail trying to wag, and there was no way the wolf could've missed it.
The wolf pushed him over, so that he was lying on his side. The bandit raised one of the fox's legs into the air, and the weight of the wolf's shaft pressed against his tailhole. He caught the cougar's eye--he'd forgotten about him, but the cougar'd certainly been watching the fox. His pants were down, and he was stroking his modest erection without shame. Grayson had presented himself only to the wolf, but that didn't mean the felid couldn't enjoy it.
When the wolf slipped in Grayson sucked in a breath. The shaft slowly penetrated all the way, spreading him wide. It hurt much more than he remembered, but after so long, he considered it a feat to be able to take the wolf at all. Wolves were usually fairly well endowed, and if nothing else, it certainly felt big inside him.
And the wolf was not gentle. He was young, brimming with energy, and Grayson, probably ten years older than him, was a bit stiff. It was natural that, after the first minute or so, the wolf thrust without abandon, ramming his rod in over and over again as fast as he could, his thighs slapping against Grayson's perineum. For a while, the fox groaned in pain, but as he stretched and got used to the feeling, his moans reached a different tone, and found himself scrunching his muzzle as the wolf hammered him. He could feel the knot pressing up against his sphincter, and it didn't panic him nearly as much as it should have.
His eyes found the cougar again; the felid was laughing at him. For a few seconds, Grayson wondered why, until he noted that he was doing an odd mixture of smiling and panting with his tongue hanging out. He wasn't yet meeting the wolf's thrusts--maybe only because they were already strong enough, backed by muscle and the energy of youth. Instead, he'd gone limp like a good bitch, just taking it and loving it, submitting completely to the male. The fox hadn't planned on enjoying this so much--he'd only wanted to save his meager fortune, which now seemed a lost cause--but he must've forgotten how good it felt to have something inside him.
The wolf's grip on him redoubled, and his thrusts shortened. Before, he'd plunged in his whole length with each stroke, but now he was leaving more and more of it in, trying to thrust deeper and deeper. Grayson knew what it meant, and he figured that he must have been insane, because rather than stop the wolf, he loosened himself and pressed harder against the knot.
He'd taken a few knots in his youth, but he'd never gotten used to the feeling. It wasn't an instantaneous thing, where one thrust it was out and the next it was all the way in. Surely that was possible, but just then, that was the last thing he wanted. When it had first hit his backside, it bumped against his hole without entering. Over time, as it pressed harder and harder against his rear, it had started penetrating him, slipping in only long enough for the wolf to pull it back out. With each thrust, his sphincter stretched farther and an iota more slid in.
The wolf's thrusts came shorter and harder. Each time his hips rammed the fox's perineum, less of his shaft and more of his knot went in, until he hit the sweetspot that made the fox squirm on the grass, unabashedly crying out. For a few long seconds, the only thing entering and leaving him was an inch of the wolf's knot. The thick shaft already had him stretched a good bit, but the knot spread him at least an inch with each thrust, stretching his hole to the limit a good three times a second, making spots of color appear on his vision. When the fox felt the thickest part of the knot break past his pucker, he cried aloud, unsure if it was in pain or pleasure; he could hear the wolf howling, too, and his claws nicked the fox's flesh, but Grayson hardly noticed.
As soon as he was stretched to the peak, it ended. The rest of the knot sank in easily, and the its thickness passed the tight muscle just inside the fox's entrance, locking them together. Grayson sucked in a breath, and pleasure built in his groin; the knot pressed against his prostate, sending tendrils of searing pleasure through his body. When the feeling didn't stop, and only got stronger, his moans turned to yips, and he climaxed, spraying his seed on the grass. His climax went on and on, and though he stopped shooting, pleasure still rocked his body in steady waves. All thoughts of using this as a bartering tool left his head. He'd climaxed first, so there was no way it would work.
Grayson's old boyfriend had kept thrusting for several minutes after he'd knotted the fox, but the wolf only took a few seconds. Rather than snarling or howling, he clutched Grayson with his paws and his whole body trembled, as if he was afraid of the strength of his climax. The wolf's harsh breathing stopped; for a second, there was silence and no movement, until the wolf yipped and warmth blossomed in the fox's insides. The shaft was too deep inside for Grayson to gauge the amount he'd came, but the wolf must have shot at least ten wholesome times, and that was impressive even for a canine.
In the aftermath, both of them breathed heavily. The wolf adjusted so that he sat on the ground, his knot dragging Grayson with him, so that the fox was almost sitting in his lap. If Grayson could judge correctly, the wolf's knot had yet to start softening, but he was fine with that; it felt good inside him, and he wanted to leave it in as long as possible. He didn't, however, have any desire to cuddle with the wolf, who seemed to share the same mindset. Still, it was as if the wolf had never been a highwayman.
The minutes rolled by, and when the wolf started shifting, the fox thought he was going to try ripping the knot out. Understandable, though the fox might be feeling it for a month afterward. But instead of pulling out, the wolf grabbed the fox and forced him onto his lap, then started thrusting again. The wolf's seed slickened his insides, making each stroke feel like an exotic massage--and he could hear the wetness with every motion, feel the wolf's whole shaft moving inside him, the knot forcing open his sphincter the slightest bit every time he pulled away. The fox couldn't keep himself steady, so he leaned back on the wolf, feeling the bandit's soft chest fur on his back. The wolf didn't have too much endurance, but he definitely had energy; he was going harder the second time through than most would the first. This time, the wolf knew he'd already won the game, and so he did it only for pleasure. They both did.
Grayson tried to keep quiet, but it was impossibly difficult with a knot moving inside him, grating against his most sensitive areas. The wolf's harsh, irregular breath came on his neck, and before the fox realized it, he had reached back and wrapped arm around the back of the wolf's head. The angle stressed his arm, and it should have felt weird touching a stranger in such a way. But they were both too lost in the intense, hormone-driven passion to notice that much else, their panting and mewls echoing into the forest. The wolf growled, and the fox groaned unashamedly as the bandit's shaft ravaged his insides. It hurt to clench down on the knot, but it was worth it to hear the wolf s breath snag in his throat. And the fox found himself bouncing slightly on the wolf's shaft, meeting every thrust as best he could. The thick orb grated against his prostate, spiking him with spurts of pleasure, and though the fox was still shooting copious amounts of pre, he knew he didn't have the strength to reach another orgasm. At one point, he'd closed his eyes, and they rarely reopened.
He rode the wolf's shaft for several long minutes. It hurt his underused muscles, but at the same time he couldn't stop. To his surprise, the wolf's knot started softening in response to his earlier climax, despite his obvious arousal. It shrank enough that it became easier and easier for the wolf to thrust. Grayson gasped when the wolf jerked out the knot, only to slam it back in, making the fox release a throaty moan into the wilderness.
Grayson gritted his teeth and played the bitch for a while, going limp and letting the wolf do all the work. Strong arms closed around his chest, and the wolf sped up, plowing the fox's rear for all its worth; he'd never gotten it this hard in all his life. Pleasure built, and the fox cried out when, to his great surprise, he came for the second time, though he didn't shoot nearly as much--only two hard spurts, pathetic for a fox. His climax wasn't as strong, but the tremendous thickness pounding into him made the overall feeling better. When he was done spurting, something wet touched his ear-the wolf's tongue, comforting him, congratulating him, all the while the shaft still ramming into his rear. The intimacy should have disturbed him, but just then, the only realities were him and the young wolf, and nothing else matteredm not even the cougar or the clothes or the market-bag; the rest of the world was only a background for their passion.
Grayson wasn't sure if it was because the knot had shrank even more, or because he was used to the feeling now, but he started meeting the wolf's thrusts. The pressure on his prostate was no longer too appealing, now making him almost wince because of his sensitivity, but he wanted to satisfy the wolf. If the youth's pants and moans were any indicator, he was doing a fairly good job.
The wolf's arms tightened against him, and they rolled so that the wolf was on top, Grayson's back on the ground with his legs in the air and the wolf under his tail. The fox could see the blind passion in the other's eyes, see his chest swelling with each breath, see the bewildered expression on his muzzle that could only come from pure ecstasy. Just then, he knew the wolf's expressions matched his own. They locked eyes, and Grayson was almost able to believe for a second that he was more than just an enthusiastic bitch to the wolf. But he knew that all the wolf was to him was a young, hot male willing to stuff him full, and just then, that was all that mattered, making the wolf his favorite person.
The wolf's mouth hung open. He threw his head back, before nesting it in the fox's shoulder. The unsteadiness of his upper body contrasted with the energy of his lower body, still ramming into the fox with all its might. If Grayson knew the wolf better, he might've reached back and fingered him, but as it was, he couldn't guarantee that the youth would appreciate it. Instead, Grayson folded his arms around the other, clutching him tight and wishing himself were in a better position so he could ride the bandit as he came closer to climax. As the seconds flew by, the youth's body trembled against him, and the fox lightly stroked his fur. The knot was small enough now that it no longer hurt.
The wolf's second climax wasn't as powerful as the first, but it was much stronger than Grayson's second. Both of them lay there for a while, catching their breath. The wolf's shaft was softening, but at an impressively-slow rate. Grayson put his paws at his side when he realized he was still rubbing the wolf's back. Shortly afterward, the wolf slowly lifted himself up so that he was sitting in front of the fox's tail. Grayson winced when the wolf pulled out--his tailhole was worn and abused, and he knew it would hurt him for a while, but he'd rather have the ache than be without the experience.
He tried to hold in the wolf's seed. He normally didn't like being soiled, but it had been so long that he wanted to prolong the feeling, plus he'd never had this much in him before. He'd been stretched too much, though, and despite his best open, his entrance gaped open, and the seed vacated him, painting the grass white. It was quite an impressive amount-not mind-blowingly large, but definitely the biggest load he'd seen.
The fox looked around and saw the cougar standing a ways away--he'd forgotten about the felid. His shaft hung limply between his legs, half-erect in the way that signaled he'd recently came. He met the fox's eyes, but Grayson could get nothing from the look.
When the wolf started pulling on his pants, the cougar soon followed. The fox was less sure now that they would return his possessions. He hadn't moved, but he'd covered his hole with his tail so that he was no longer presenting. Still, if the wolf looked over, he knew he'd move it aside, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. He hadn't meant to enjoy it so much; the wolf didn't owe him anything now, and if anything, the fox was now rightfully the wolf's bitch. But the bandit deposited the fox's bag at his side. Grayson looked at him, puzzled.
The wolf shrugged. He grabbed the fox's clothes and tucked them under his arm. "I like you better naked."
It was the first time the fox had heard his voice, at least when it wasn't pitched in a growl or moan. Grayson decided it would be best not to respond, so he just sat and watched the wolf as he approached the cougar. They started off into the wilderness, but before they disappeared, the wolf looked back at him.
"You should come this way more often."
When the wolf was gone, Grayson laughed. At some point in the conversation, his tail had moved aside again, exposing his entrance. He rubbed it idly for a minute or two, wincing and grinning when he noted the tenderness. They both knew he'd take the shortcut more often, though doing so might defeat its original purpose. The one thing he couldn't figure out was how to explain this to his wife.