FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

When Roger returned to the cubicles, yet another cup of coffee in hand, it was to discover a third light coming from the far corner. The rabbit frowned, as he tried to place who sat in that area. He looked over to where his desk was, then over to Cyrus's, a few stalls over. When it finally clicked, Roger blinked. He strode over to the cube, craning his head in to see, and sure enough he saw a familiar cat hunched over her keyboard.

"Evening, Wendy," he said. "Didn't expect to see you come in, for a couple of days, still. You feeling better?"

Wendy turned to face Roger. Her face was a mask of exhaustion and annoyance.

"Right," Roger cleared his throat, taking a nervous sip of coffee. "Dumb question, I guess. You gonna be good? We can keep you remote, for a bit longer."

"No, it's fine," Wendy protested, with a sigh. "If I have to stay cooped up at home another day, I'm probably going to break something. Or someone."

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse."

"Gotcha." Roger made it a point not to think too deeply about that statement, pushing off of Wendy's cube wall with a sigh. "Well, then, welcome to the try-hard shift. It's just you, me and the other copywriter in, tonight. We've got the technical stuff on lock, so all that's left is doc work. I'm probably gonna be here longer than either of you, so if you need something, you know where to find me."

"Thanks, Boss," Wendy replied, turning back to her screen and hunching over. It was still relatively warm, outside, and yet Roger couldn't help but notice she had decided to come in with as much of her body covered as possible. Leather pants, turtleneck sweater, gloves, anything to give her a layer between fur and the outside world. Her body rose and fell in ragged, but powerful breaths. She looked like she was positively sweltering, but Roger could only imagine what...

The sudden thrashing of her tail, out of the hole in the back of her chair, convinced Roger that perhaps he should just give her her space. Taking another pull of his coffee, he took a few steps out and passed by the second occupied cube. "Everything good in here, Cy?" he asked, as he poked his head in.

"Wh-what?" The little macaw at the desk flinched, his attention pulled from a spot over his cube wall to his manager's face. Bashfully, he put his fingers back on his keys, abortively pretending like he was busy. "Uh, yup. Everything's fine, Boss. Just getting my drafts sketched out."

Roger chuckled. "Hey, man, relax. We're outside of normal business hours. I'm just another coworker, this time of night."

"R-right. Got it."

"Unless you need me for something, of course."

"Uh, no!" Cyrus stammered for a second, then stopped. He took a deep breath, and when he exhaled, he was something approaching professional. "No, I think I'm good, Boss. I'll hit you up on team-chat if I have any questions."

"Sounds like a plan," Roger said, patting the bird's desk with his palm, as he began to walk away. "Let's get shit done, then."

"Y-yes, sir!" Cyrus called back.

With that, the bird was left alone. His eyes immediately left the entrance of his cubicle, to stare over his monitor at the area over his cube wall, where the sound of typing was filtering in from a few spots down. His fingers wiggled nervously against the keys, not hard enough to press, as his mind worked to try and keep pace with his heart. He sketched out the plan in his head, for what had to have been the thousandth time. Get up, head off in the direction of the bathroom, poke your head in for just a second. "Hey, Wendy," he'll say. "Been a while. Glad to see you're feeling better." That's it. Simplicity itself. He took a breath in, then exhaled. Took a breath in. Exhaled. Ready.

Pulling himself to his feet, he took a moment to straighten out his button down shirt and slacks. Was his tie on straight? Apparently so, but that didn't stop him from adjusting it until it was just at the fringe of comfort, against his throat. He took a breath in. Exhaled. Told himself he was stalling. Took a breath in. Exhaled. Stepping out into the corridor, his gait couldn't have been any more indicative of someone with a place to be. He saw the light coming from Wendy's cubicle, as he approached. Passing the threshold, he slowed down slightly, for just a moment. Then, he sped back up again, blowing past her workstation and out into the hall.

Popping into the men's room, he only came to a stop once the door swung closed behind him. At that point, he took a moment to look at himself, in the mirror. He cut his reflection a sardonic glare, pointing at the mirror with both hands. "Cyrus," he said, as though he were talking to an old friend, "you're a fucking coward and we both know it."

Wendy, meanwhile, was making progress on her work primarily out of spite. Every nerve in her body was trying to tell her to do anything other than what she was doing. She wanted to get up, walk around, get some kind of air circulation going. She wanted to just pack it in, go home and get some medicine in her system, doctor's orders be damned. She wanted to slap her ex-boyfriend, for a whole host of reasons. But while her body was refusing to sit still, tail whipping back and forth with enough force to break skin, her mind was utterly, miserably focused on the task of copying down technical information she didn't understand, and putting it into spreadsheets to make it ever so slightly more coherent. She was in an absolutely abysmal mood, and she was determined to take it out on her workload, distractions be damned.

By the time Cyrus got back to his seat, therefore, there was already a couple of messages on his teamchat. He felt a momentary twinge of panic, as one does when they feel like they might have the Boss's eyes on them, again. However, upon checking, the messages were all attachments from Wendy. Wow, he typed back to her. You're really cranking these out, tonight.

Wendy's only response was a corporate friendly thumbs up emoji.

Cyrus had had this conversation before, on team-chat. He nodded, to himself. Guess you're needing me to give them the once-over for you, then?

Another thumbs up, in response.

Cyrus immediately understood how his coworker was intending to get her work done, tonight, and was immediately on board. Pulling up the technical documents on one window, he began to go to work verifying her entries. Exactly as he expected, the work was sloppy and inelegant; he had to spend some time coming in and changing values so that the whole document didn't return values in the negatives, or somehow insisted that a product took up three thousand gigabytes of memory. However, for every table he completed, two more showed up in his inbox. At the rate she was going, Wendy was set to get the lion's share of the work done within the next few hours.

Roger was in his cubicle, trying in vain to make heads or tails of financial reports and wondering to himself whether all the numbers meant good things, when his chatbox suddenly sprung to life with a steady stream of messages. Cyrus was passing along finished spreadsheets, a revelation that made the rabbit sigh, with relief. "Finally," he muttered. "I never thought I'd be happy to be given an excuse to do my own job, for once."

The night rattled on in much the same vein, for some time. Every step down the line, the work was checked, refined, and added to the whole. Eventually, Roger posted up a completed document to Wendy and Cyrus's inbox. I think we got it, team, he announced. A few more bells and whistles and we can slap this on the client's desk with a neat little bow.

Wendy responded with the same thumbs up emoji.

Cyrus added in a stylized dog in a suit, throwing his hands up in the air and cheering.

I'm real glad to have the two of you back together, said Roger. You really kick ass, once you've got the pipeline set up.

Thanks, Boss, Cyrus replied.

Wendy's response rattled in a second later: I really kick ass, in general, but I appreciate the compliment.

Roger chuckled, as he drained the last of his coffee and prepared himself for another trip to the break room. All right, you two. Go home. Get some sleep. Everything after this is gonna be slack pickup and final touches, so there's no need for you to go ham, anymore.

Cyrus sighed, as he pushed himself back from his desk. Given what he knew of Roger, that promise of being able to take it easy would be short lived. Odds were good that the rabbit was going to get their work out the door as soon as it was ready, and then immediately ask for another contract to take on. Understanding that this was, at best, a reprieve of a few days, Cyrus decided that, as usual, it was best to take the offer while Roger was offering it.

Hopping up to his feet, Cyrus grabbed his coat from under the desk and began to log out of his computer. As fast as technology would allow him to step away, he was out of his cube and headed back towards the hall, where he could call the elevator. Wendy emerged from the offices, right as the door to the elevator began to open; she was inside almost before Cyrus was able to move. The macaw shuffled nervously, for just a moment, but since he knew he could not really have an excuse to find another one, he followed in after her, taking up the opposite corner of the cab while Wendy proceeded to repeatedly press on the ground floor button.

As the door slid closed, Cyrus felt his beak open. He was not even sure what it was he was intending to say, but he felt compelled to say something. Perhaps he had intended to act on his original plan, let her know he was happy to see her, again. Maybe he would just stick with a simple "good job," before getting out of there as soon as the cab touched ground. Whatever he was going to say, the subtle lurch of the elevator beginning to move threw his concentration off. For a brief moment, that was what he was willing to blame on his inability to say anything to the back of Wendy's head. That is, until a sudden jolt caused him to slip, grabbing onto the wall railing to try and stay upright.

Wendy balanced by taking a step back, rasping out a yelp as she nearly lost her footing. "...the fuck was that?" she hissed.

"D-dunno," Cyrus said, looking around the cab, nervously, "but it kinda feels like the elevator's stopped."

Wendy took a deep breath, then growled. "Oh, fuck no. No, that's not happening." Frantically, she began to hammer on the ground floor button. "Come on. Come on, you fucking piece of... move already, dammit!"

"Y-you gotta hit the call button," Cyrus interjected, taking a step forward to point to the red button at the bottom of the panel. "It's right th..."

Wendy waved her hand behind her, to try and ward the bird away. "All right, all right! I know what the call button is. I got it." She immediately proceeded to hammer on the call button, which lit up as the speakers in the corners of the cab began to play the sound of an outgoing call.

"Good evening," said the speakers, "you're on the line with Oxlift Emergency Techs. Is everyone all right?"

"Y-yes!" Cyrus responded, just a bit too loudly. "Yes, I think we're all right. Wendy, are you...?"

"I'm fine."

"Very good, very good," the voice on the other end of the call made a few noises, stalling for time as they made notes and checked information. "I have you listed here as calling from Draconic Solutions. There should be a number printed on the inside of the cab. Can you confirm you're in cab number 3?"

"Unbelievable..." Wendy muttered, shaking her head at the wall.

Cyrus looked at the cat, for a moment, before looking back up at the speakers. "Yes. That's what the number says. There's still lights and stuff in the cabin, as well, but there was a jerk that suggested that we probably experienced a power cut to the pulley system."

"Exactly what I was about to ask, sir," said the voice, "so thank you for that. Have you tried to open the doors? There should be a button to do that, assuming you're close enough to a floor. It's gonna be a line with..."

"Doesn't work," Wendy interrupted, her finger already a dozen presses in to mashing the door open command on the console. "Nothing on this piece of crap works."

"It's okay," the voice reassured. "That's perfectly normal. If the doors don't open, that must mean it wouldn't be safe to get off, anyway. Now then, I have your information. A technician is being sent out, as we speak, in order to get you folks moving, again. In the meantime, it is vitally important for you to remain. Calm. There are redundant safety systems in place, that trip in events like these. You are in no immediate danger."

Wendy laughed, the bitter laugh of somebody who was moments away from saying something emphatically unkind. Cyrus instinctively headed that off at the pass by speaking. "R-right. Thank you. We'll just hunker down and wait for the tech, then."

"All righty," said the voice, with a chipper affect that was clearly trying to paint this whole situation as being less serious than it might have felt, to either of them in the elevator. "If anything in your situation changes, don't hesitate to hit that call button, again. In the meantime, get yourselves comfy and you'll be out of there as soon as we're able to get you running, again." With that, the speakers chimed, and then Wendy and Cyrus were left in silence.

Cyrus leaned into the corner of the cabin, letting out a shaky breath. "Okay," he muttered, half to himself. "Everything's gonna-aaah!"

Halfway through his sentence, Wendy slapped the wall hard enough to make it shake, behind Cyrus's back. As soon as she heard the yelp, however, and saw the way Cyrus crouched down, her expression softened, just a hair. "Fuck," she muttered. "Um... sorry about that."

"No, no, I get it." Cyrus laughed, unconvincingly. "I'm halfway to punching a wall, myself. I-it's okay, though. Elevators are, like, the safest thing we've ever invented, so no need to worry about, uh... about..."

Wendy could tell by the nervous flit of Cyrus's head, around the cabin, that that reassurance was probably not for her sake. Exhaling forcefully, she sat down, on the opposite corner from the bird. "Yeah, I know. I know. Just wasn't really keen on spending all night cooped up in a steel box."

"I'd be confused, if you said you were." Cyrus spoke without thinking too hard, concerned as he was with listening to the sound of cables not snapping above them and everything staying exactly the same. It was only afterwards, that he thought that he might have just said something weird. Worrying about that and worrying about the aforementioned elevator and the problems it was thankfully not having had a way of canceling each other out, competing for space in the macaw's head.

And so the two of them sat, the mechanical background hum of machinery audible only because of the otherwise pure silence that permeated the elevator. Cyrus could hear every shuffle of fabric, as Wendy fidgeted in place. On an impulse, he pulled out his phone.

"You gonna try and call someone?" Wendy asked.

The suddenness of her voice nearly made Cyrus drop his phone. "O-oh, well, uh... not really. I could try and call Roger, I guess, but I was kind of gonna try and look something up." He looked up at the top of his screen, and made a noise with his beak. "No service, though."

"Sounds about right," Wendy muttered, over her knees, as she pulled her legs in tight to her body. "Don't even get internet in these dumb boxes."

Cyrus's brow knitted. "Well, um... I've got some songs loaded onto mine. We could play those, for a bit." Wendy looked up. There wasn't a question in her eyes, but Cyrus imagined there was, so he elaborated. "Y-you know, just so we're not listening to nothing, all night."

Wendy shrugged. "Whatever. It sounds like a plan, I guess. Go for it, Cy."

"R-right."

Wendy did not pay much attention, as Cyrus clicked through his phone. Her thoughts were directed inward, to other things. How incredibly hot it was, in this elevator. How annoying it was trying to keep her body still. How annoying it was that she could feel it, every time she failed to keep her body still. How hot it was in this elevator. It was very hot, in this elevator. However, intellectually, she knew there was something between very little and fuck-all she could do about any of that, right now, and so she recognized that she was just going to have to endure being stuck. In a hot elevator. With her coworker. As for what she'd do afterwards, that was something to think about later. More than likely, she was probably going to head straight home, throw herself into her bed and...

Cyrus made a tiny chirp of alarm, when the shuffle option on his playlist immediately brought up the sound of violently shredding guitars, frantic drum-beats, and a deep-voiced woman screaming loud enough to wake the dead. Fumbling for a moment, he pressed a button, and the cacophony stopped.

"Wh-whoops!" Cyrus laughed the hollow, panicked laugh of somebody caught with their pants down. "Not exactly a good one, to start with."

Despite herself, Wendy chuckled. "What was that? Shred Burrow?"

"Yeah, uh... Ian kept telling me to check them out, so, uh..."

"He tells everyone to check out Shred Burrow. Dude's obsessed with them."

"Is he?" Cyrus knew the answer, but was trying to be polite.

Wendy chuckled. "I've got good money on that lead singer being his designated freebie fuck."

"O-oh..." Cyrus fidgeted, for a moment, at that. "You really think so?"

Wendy paused, curling back into herself. "Right. Sorry, that's probably inappropriate. Especially since we're talking about the Boss's boyfriend, or..." She looked off to the side, suddenly remembering that Roger never really made it official, or even acknowledged that the two of them even spoke to each other, outside of work. "...or, whatever it is he's supposed to be."

"No, no, it's all right," said Cyrus, shuffling in his seat a moment. "I don't... really pay attention to all of that, is all." The cabin got quiet, again. Cyrus began to scrub through his playlist more deliberately, as he spoke. "Hon-honestly, I don't even know how folks find the time to... to, uh... you know... do... that."

"You mean 'fuck?'" Wendy asked.

Cyrus didn't respond, right away, but the way his feathers puffed up clearly betrayed his embarrassment. Tapping the screen, his phone began to play something from his calmer, more work-oriented collection. As he set the phone down, he finally managed to find his voice "I meant how they could find time to do the whole relationship thing, and still get all their work done. I can't even commit to fussing around on a dating app, after work, let alone whatever it is that Shirl and Carol are up to."

"Oh, I see," Wendy teased. "You don't really pay attention to office romances, but you know about those two."

"Hey," Cyrus protested, weakly, "Shirl and Carol don't count. After the broom closet thing, last month, the whole department is aware of them."

"Shirl's packing."

Cyrus flinched. Even with his hearing as good as it was, he still barely registered that Wendy had said anything. "I-I-I'm sorry?"

One of Wendy's ears began to flit, erratically. She hugged her knees close to her body. "Yeah, I saw it, once. In passing, you know, in the bathroom. She's, uh... she's got... you know."

Cyrus tugged on his collar, taking a keen interest in the ceiling for a second. "I... I, uh don't think I needed to know about that..." When he ventured a look back down, his brow knitted, in concern. "Hey, uh... Wendy? Are you... feeling all right?"

Wendy shook her head, lightly scratching her claws along the leather of her pants. "I'm fucking sweltering, in here. There's, like, no air circulation."

"M-maybe if you take off that sweater, it'd..." The look that Cyrus got from Wendy froze him in his tracks. Desperately, he waved his hands and began to backpedal, as fast as his beak would let him. "I-I-I mean, you know. If you've got any other layers under there, I mean. Not that I'm suggesting that... oh! Or, like, if you need to, you can borrow my shirt. It's gotta be cooler than that sweater, at least, s-so... uh..."

Wendy lowered her head and exhaled, before uncurling herself and reaching for the hem of her turtleneck. Pulling it off, in one fluid motion, she put it off to the side, leaving her in a thin white t-shirt. She rubbed at her arms, ruefully. "You're right, Cyrus," she muttered. "I'm sorry. This is actually a little bit better."

"Uh, good. I'm glad." Despite the fact that she was actually sensibly dressed, Cyrus looked away, out of modesty. "Given how warm it's been, the past few days, I imagine that had to be half the problem."

Wendy stared at the bird, thoughtfully. Then, finally, she spoke. "Look, it's fine Cyrus. I'm sorry. I'm being a real spaz, tonight."

"No, no," Cyrus protested. "You're fine. You're still recovering from that sickness you've got, right? Of course you're not going to be a hundred percent."

"It's not..." She stopped herself, for just a moment, as she seriously considered whether or not, she should say what she was about to say. She still was not completely sure, when she did start speaking, again. "My doctor's got some kind of test she's trying to line up, and one of the things she's had me do is to get off some of my regular medication."

"Oh." Cyrus's eyes widened, as he met the cat's gaze. "Oh, that's... are they serious medications? Should we call the elevator guy, again?"

"No, come on, man, that's not..."

Cyrus rose to his feet, tapping his fingers together in an agitated fashion. "This is serious, Wendy. If there's some kind of medicine, you need, the tech needs to know so that we can..."

"They're my anti-heats, Cyrus." Wendy interrupted. "I'm not on the pill, right now."

Cyrus needed a second to process those two sentences. He needed several seconds more to convince himself that he had not misheard her. As the information started to sink in, his feathers began to ruffle. "Oh. That's... OH! Oh, jeez, that's... so that means you're in... oh, crap. I-I'm sorry, that's..."

Wendy waved away the scandalized and concerned look on the bird's face. "It's fine, man," she half-lied. "It's not anywhere near as bad as the Internet likes to make it out to be. I'm just really warm, right now. And, you know, every bit of fur exposed to the air really wants to be touching something. And then..." She laughed. "...you know, a couple other little side effects."

"I see. Still, that sounds kinda rough."

Wendy shrugged. "Hormones, man. What can I say?"

Cyrus scratched his cheek, absently. "Is there... anything I can do to help?"

Wendy blinked, then laughed. "I'm sorry, what?"

Cyrus was confused, for a second. Then he thought about what it was he had just said. Really thought about it. As the implication sunk in, confusion gave way to scandal and panic. His feathers clenched in tight, tail fan twitching as he threw his hands up in front of him. "H-h-holy crap, no! No! I d-didn't mean it like that! I wasn't talking about... Hohhh, man, that's bad. I must sound like a r-real..."

Wendy watched, as her coworker proceeded to flush and stammer into the corner, hard enough that she almost expected him to start clipping through the wall. Despite herself, she could not help a set of snickers bubbling up out of the corner of her clenched teeth. Once they broke loose, she was powerless to stop them from growing into full blown cackles. "Oh, my God, Cyrus," she shouted, between peals of laughter, "slow down a second, will you? You're gonna give yourself a heart attack."

"I-I'm so sorry, Wendy, I didn't mean..."

"I know, I know! Just..." she held a hand out, patting the air and making a shushing noise. "...okay? Take a couple of breaths."

"R-right, right, right..." Cyrus steepled his fingers, in front of his beak, and took a deep breath. His exhale was filled with nervous tension, a wordless note that came out in erratic warbles. He had to take a few more passes, before he could finally breathe normally. Then, lowering his hands to his sides, he tried again. "Okay, so... would it help if I... sat next to you? You said your body wants contact, so..."

Wendy stared into Cyrus's eyes, but in truth her gaze was nowhere in particular. At this point, it felt as if a dozen different decisions needed to be made at once and, for the life of her, she was having difficulty determining how many of those decisions were being decided by hormones. Or, more accurately, how many decisions she wished could be decided by hormones, for her, since the functional, tax-paying adult part of her brain knew better. And yet, it was only that part of her brain that was telling her not to bite her bottom lip, as her eyes wandered over her coworker's body.

Cyrus, unheeding, took the silence as refusal or worse, and shrunk into his corner, accordingly. "You're right. I'm sorry. That's still probably inappropriate, seeing as how... W-we can just wait for the tech guy to..."

"Cyrus?"

Cyrus flinched.

Wendy tapped the bit of floor, next to her. "I'd... actually really like that." The statement hung in the air, for a second. Wendy tried to fill the silence. "Only if you want to, you know? Like, don't make me make it weird, or anyth-oh, hey hi there."

While she was speaking, Cyrus slid across the cabin, sitting down beside the cat and resting his back against the elevator door. Despite the urgency of his movements, his face was serious, a mask of near-clinical concern. "So, how do you want to do this?" he asked. "What, uh... what do you need, from me, here?"

When Wendy got over her surprise, she leaned in. "Well, uh... if you just let me get..." She reached up to drape her right arm over Cyrus's shoulder. Her other arm snaked around the bird's midsection. Almost without thinking, Cyrus pulled an arm up to rest on the small of the cat's back. Wendy sighed, contentedly, nuzzling her head into the nape of Cyrus's neck.

"You're purring," Cyrus said.

"I'm a cat," Wendy replied, around the involuntary rasping in the back of her throat. "We do that."

Cyrus took a deep breath. "It's... nice."

The two of them sat for a while, the rumbling of Wendy's chest the only sound. Cyrus looked down at his coworker, seriously. His mind worked, but his beak refused to move. It took a couple of attempts, before he finally summoned up enough nerve to say something. "I'm, um... I'm glad you're okay, Wendy. I meant to say that earlier, but, uh... you know, slapping together a document took..." He trailed off, for a second, then sighed. "I was gonna say it earlier, but I got nervous."

"I get that. This is..." Wendy blinked. "...jeez. This is probably the most words we've said to each other, like, ever."

"If you don't count team-chats." Cyrus made a thoughtful face. "Actually, yeah. Nothing but what we needed to, for work."

Wendy chuckled. "So much for those team-building exercises, huh?"

"Hey. we're a team. I mean, did you forget us getting two weeks worth of work done in a night? Even while you're... you know, not at a hundred percent?"

"You can say it, you know."

"I... really kind of can't."

Wendy laughed. "Come on, Cy. We're not teenagers, anymore. "

"I-I mean... you're right. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I'm fucking with you." Wendy pulled herself in closer. "I should probably be glad you're not getting weird about it."

Cyrus looked down, raising an eyebrow. "What? Why do you think I'd do something like that?"

"I mean, it's not you. It's just..." Wendy huffed. "... my ex-boyfriend..."

"Oh?" Cyrus questioned, thought about it, and then repeated himself, understandingly. "...ohhhh."

"Yeah."

"That sucks."

"Yeah."

Cyrus paused. "W-wait. What did he do?"

"Oh, it's more a matter of what he didn't do. The guy heard I was going to have to stop taking my pills, and the only thing he cared about was whether he was going to have to wrap up."

"Wrap up?"

"Wear a condom." Cyrus bristled, under Wendy's cheek. "I kept trying to tell him it was dangerous, you know? 'We're both the same species' I said. 'You're definitely gonna get me pregnant if you don't do it.'"

Cyrus cleared his throat. "H-he said no, then?"

"I believe his exact words were 'I promise I'll pull out.'"

"Wow." Cyrus blinked. "That's... wow!" The two of them sat in silence, a moment. Cyrus looked off into the distance, absently rubbing his hand along Wendy's spine. Wendy tightened up, against Cyrus's body. On the floor, Cyrus's phone transitioned to a breathy pop song from decades ago. The bird's beak clicked, and then suddenly Cyrus found himself blurting out "Fuck that guy!"

Wendy coughed, in alarm, at Cyrus's sudden outburst. Then, she began to laugh. Cyrus, in a fit of released tension, began to crack up, as well. Soon, the both of them were laughing loud enough to no doubt be heard, even outside the cabin.

"I-I'm sorry," Cyrus blurted out, in between snickers. "I... dunno what brought that on."

Wendy laughed from the belly, emerging only to parrot out the phrase "'Fuck that guy," which caused the cabin to erupt into a fresh torrent of giggles. Eventually, the humor wore down, and the two settled back into each other. Wendy draped a leg over Cyrus's knee, as giggles gave way to purrs. "You're a good guy, Cyrus," she muttered.

Cyrus felt the heat of Wendy's thighs, between both of their pants. He endeavored to ignore it. "No, come on," he protested, "that's kind of a low bar to be comparing me to, you know?"

"Guess so," Wendy purred, "but it's still the truth. There's gotta be some girl out there you make happy as all get-out."

Cyrus took a shaky breath. "N-no, not... not really."

"Some boy, then?"

"No?" Cyrus stammered, then cleared his throat. "I mean, no. I don't really have anyone, right now. Haven't for... you know, a bit."

"Really? That's weird." Wendy rubbed her cheek along the side of Cyrus's throat, making the macaw fluff and shiver as whiskers scraped along feathers. "I had this image in my head that you were the quietly married type. You know, got a spouse somewhere you don't talk about, but you got a whole family you're out building together. Maybe we see 'em at the Christmas party, along with the kids you..."

"W-Wendy?"

The cat paused, as she felt Cyrus's throat move with an audible gulp.

Cyrus stared down at her, fidgeting nervously. "Wendy, I can feel you grinding on my... y-your legs, they're..."

Wendy stared down at the area where her legs wrapped around one of the bird's. The crotch of her pants was perfectly situated in the swell of his thigh muscles, and every minute movement of her hips was igniting the already smoldering embers of her heat.Wendy pulled herself up, still straddling her coworker, placing her hands on his chest. She looked down at Cyrus, almost apologetically, even as her hips continued to roll back and forth, even as her knee began to brush against something warm and growing in the macaw's own pants.

"Is it wrong," she whispered, "that I'm glad? I think the only thing I was waiting for was a promise that I wasn't going to wreck a home, you know?"

"Wendy, wait." Cyrus squirmed, under the cat's body. "Please, I... we shouldn't. Not when you're like this, it's..."

"Please, Cy," Wendy insisted, with a purring whine. "It's safer, when it's cross-species. We don't even have to go all the way."

"This isn't what you want," said Cyrus, helpless as Wendy began to fiddle with his shirt buttons. "It's just the hormones, talking. You don't really want to..."

"Cyrus?" Wendy grabbed two fistfuls of shirt, her voice breaking, as she spoke. "Cyrus, I have spent the last week wanting nothing but sex. I've been rolling around in bed, alone, unable to sleep, because of this goddamn heat, and being in here, with you..."

"Wendy..."

Sobering, just a little bit, Wendy relinquished her grip on Cyrus's chest and pulled back. "Look, just... tell me you don't want to, and we can pretend this didn't happen. I just thought, maybe you'd... you'd..." Her ears twitched, as she felt something slip between her fingers. Cyrus locked hands, with hers, pulling himself up and beaming.

"Wendy," he whispered, fluffed up with emotion, "you have... you have no idea. I want to... I... I want you, Wendy. But..."

Wendy raised an eyebrow, even as her fingers began to idly return to trying to open up his shirt.

Cyrus scratched his cheek, nervously. "I, uh... I didn't bring a... you know, a..."

Wendy sobered, completely, as her mind completed that sentence, for him. "Ffffuck. Okay, no worries. I think I still have one or two in my purse. Pretty sure I've got them..." She took a look around the cabin, realized her purse was not there. "...back... at my desk... upstairs."

Cyrus thought, for a second, and then his brow knitted, slightly. "All right, then. We'll make do."

"What do you mean by-whoa!"

Pulling himself up, Cyrus pushed against the cat, on his lap, causing Wendy to lay her back down against the carpet. Looming over her, Wendy felt the weight and heat of her coworker, feeling a fresh thrill go through her body as one of his hands settled on the belt loop of her pants. She could not hike up her hips fast enough; in one solid movement, her pants were down around her mid thigh, and she was rewarded with the first tentative brush of rough scaled fingers against her sex.

"Oh, wow," Cyrus marveled, as his fingers hovered over her. "Wendy, you're so warm. You're... you're like a furnace, down here. Um, so... I'm not... a hundred percent sure about what... um..."

"It's okay, Cyrus," Wendy assured, with open impatience. "I'm more than ready for you. Please, just... just touch it. I'm going crazy, over here."

Hesitantly, Cyrus lowered his fingers, an action that was greeted with a breathy whine from the cat. As promised, her labia were practically soaked in her feminine juices. Cyrus only needed a few probing passes for his fingers to become coated, enough that he felt confident enough to rub her, in earnest. Wendy's hands gripped onto Cyrus's leg and one of her own breasts, respectively, for dear life. Cyrus looked to Wendy's chest, as if asking himself for permission, before reaching out and cupping her other breast. Meanwhile, one finger began to part her folds, where he was greeted with more heat and moisture. Gingerly, experimentally, he sunk a finger in.

Wendy was torn between three or four different needs. She longed to have more of her fur exposed, to have Cyrus's surprisingly strong hands against her bare breast. She longed to move her hips, to fuck Cyrus's fingers with the force he was slow in bringing to her. Greater than all of those, however, was the sheer, naked greed she felt, when she looked upon the rampant bulge in the bird's trousers. She had never seen an avian cock, up close, and right now there was not a single thing in the world she wanted to see more. It took some doing, trying to open Cyrus's pants with one hand, from under his arm. Cyrus was obliging, however, in turning his hips to face her for better access. He wanted to whip it out just as much as she did, a thought that galvanized her to the point nearly of mania. If it had taken a second longer, to pop open the button, she might have started inflicting violence upon the very fabric of his clothes. Fortunately, for the both of them, the waistband gave, and Wendy was able to pull down his fly and reveal what she was searching for.

"Oh, wow," Wendy purred, as she wrapped her fingers around the tapered tip of the bird's deep red dick. "How've you managed to hide this thing, all this time?"

Cyrus was not sure how he was supposed to respond. The sharp gasp that greeted the first contact of flesh on his member did not feel like enough, but if Wendy's expression was any indication, the moan that followed out of his lips was more than satisfactory. He tried not to get too distracted, as the cat's fingers flexed and tickled around the base. Instead, he tried to focus his attention on the feeling of the cat around his finger, as he pressed in deeper.

For the next few minutes, things were frantic, chaotic, and just a little bit awkward. Cyrus did not know what to do, other than pump his finger in and out of Wendy's clenching depths. As fun as it was for Wendy to get her hand on Cyrus's member, there was nothing other than a slowly forming bead of pre on the tip, for her to use, and so she had to content herself with grips and teases, running her thumb along its tapered point and feeling it pulse with every beat of the bird's heart. Which she did, of course, and happily, and yet... Her eyes widened, and she threw her head back, as she felt her folds part even further.

Cyrus froze, midway through tagging in the second finger. "W-what's wrong? Is it too much? A-am I hurting...?"

"No," Wendy interrupted, the word behind multiple layers of whine, purr and moan at the same time. "No, keep going. Fuck, please keep going."

Reassured, more than emboldened, Cyrus pushed the second finger in, at which point both index and middle finger began to pump in and out of the cat. The skin on his hands was rough, but as well lubricated as she was, the feeling of every scale and bump gave Wendy a feeling tantalizingly similar to that of a more familiar feline cock, yet different in all the best ways. Her thighs hiked up, clamping around Cyrus's wrist and refusing to let him do anything other but continue his ministrations.

"W-Wendy," Cyrus gasped, his member lurching ominously in Wendy's hand. "Wendy you're so... hot. I can feel you... c-clamping down on my hand. I... I..." With a sudden, breathy groan, Cyrus's hips began to twitch, his cock heaving once, twice, and then letting loose. White streams of cum shot forth with extreme force, splattering against Wendy's shirt and chest, glancing off her cheek, and sailing past to soak into the carpet beyond. Rope after rope of hot essence painted the cat, bringing with it a potent, universal smell that Wendy had no choice but to take in, with open mouth and deep, rumbling breaths.

Her own climax was mere seconds behind. With a strangled noise, in the back of her throat, she arched her back, leaning up into the bird's hand as her insides fluttered and clenched. She shivered, her every move taking her lover with her, sending streams of the bird's cum flying in different arcs. Her own juices dripped off of the soaked fur beneath her sopping crotch, to join the wet spot on the floor she would eventually sink back onto, with a weak and gasping moan.

The two of them stay there, a moment, trying to catch their breath. Cyrus was the first to regain some kind of composure. "S-sorry," he muttered, looking down at the mess he had made, on the cat's upper body.

Wendy laughed, with a dopey smile. "It's all right. Better out, than in, right?"

"R-right."

"You think we could just... go back to the touching thing? If it's not too... you know, gross and stuff."

Cyrus did not hesitate. Settling down next to her, he pulled her close. The two of them entwined their legs, the bird's softening cock putting one last trail of fluid on the cat's stomach, as it retreated back into his pants.

Wendy shivered, as she felt it finally break contact with her fur. "We're definitely going to have to get that wrapped up, so it can go inside me, properly."

"What, like... tonight?"

Wendy met Cyrus's gaze. For a moment, she thought she heard hesitation in his voice. Looking into his eyes, however, she could see something different. Eagerness, followed by a moment of embarrassment, when it was obvious that his eagerness was showing. Wendy nuzzled the side of Cyrus's beak, and purred. "I think I might be okay, for a little bit," she explained, "but there's no saying we can't go again, if you want to."

Cyrus made a nervous clicking noise. "I'm just... you know, looking after the well-being of a coworker..." His feathers ruffled. Wendy could feel the heat coming from his body, as he gathered up the courage to add "...a-and a friend."

Wendy smiled, as she buried her snout in Cyrus's warm neck-feathers. "It feels like the whole world just started moving."

"Yeah," Cyrus agreed. Then, with a confused grunt, he looked up. "Wait. The elevator... I think it's actually..."

With a mechanical chime, the doors pulled open. Roger took one step into the cabin, a first aid kit in each hand. "Guys! Are you okay! Can you..."

Wendy and Cyrus pulled themselves up, to look at their manager.

"...hear..."

Wendy pulled up her pants, wiped some of the cum off of her cheek. Cyrus covered his open fly with his hands.

Roger closed his eyes, took a deep breath in, and then exhaled. "All right. Cool. You two aren't dying. Thank fuck. Real glad you're okay."

"B-Boss," Cyrus stammered, "w-w-we can explain..."

"Nope!" Roger warded off the sight of his two coworkers with his first aid kits. "No explanations, no details. I didn't see any of what I just saw. Get your pants on, guys, and go home. I got a report to file with the elevator tech, and the last place I'm gonna talk to him is in this cabin."

"Gotcha," Wendy muttered, as she climbed fully into her pants.

"Thanks, Boss," Cyrus added, as he closed up his own pants and rose to his feet. He offered a still damp hand to Wendy, pulled her up, and the two of them beat a hasty retreat into the main lobby.

Out in the parking lot, Wendy looked up at the office, ruefully. "Fuck! My purse is still up there."

Cyrus pulled out his car keys, twirling them on his finger. "No worries. I can give you a lift home." He smiled, confidently, for about a second, before he began to devolve into apologetics, again. "You know, i-if you want. I mean, your house keys are probably still up there, so maybe..."

Wendy strode forward, grabbing Cyrus's keys and the hand underneath them. "Too late to back out, Cy. I'm crashing at your place, tonight." Pulling away, she held up Cyrus's car keys as she walked to his car. "We're making a stop at the drug store, first, though. Come on, man!"

Cyrus swallowed, nervously, but at the same time his feathers shivered in anticipation, as he followed closely behind.