FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Beam! Hey, man, it's good to see you." An anthropomorphic gray squirrel practically leapt up from his seat. A cheap, but effective enchantment on the furniture shimmered to steady the high-top table he was at in time to save the wine glasses. After the instant of panic was quelled, he greeted a much shorter, rust-colored red squirrel.

The squirrel smiled up at his date. "Hi, Phil," he answered in a light, serene voice. "How are you?"

There was some awkwardness as Phil, dressed in his only blazer and a pair of blue jeans, demonstrated that he had no concept of how to greet a second date and certainly not while at a restaurant where the wine glasses were actually glass. He started to go for a bro handshake, paused, opened his arms as for a hug, paused again, then stuffed both hands in his pockets and flashed a sheepish grin. "I'm, uh. I'm good! How are you?"

A Hoarfrost Glade and Beam of Moonlight - AKA Beam - smiled warmly, then reached his hand up to delicately, not too forcefully, cup Phil's chin and pull it down to him. Their noses met and just rested together while Beam imposed a few seconds of eye contact. Phil shivered through his fur as something cold and electric passed through him from the smaller man. He felt his ears get hot in response. The moment that happened, Beam released him with another smile and asked, "Is that an alright greeting?"

"D-definitely," Phil stammered, jaw hanging loose. His own voice was always faintly hoarse from decades of cigarette residue, and it was hollowed out another step by impressed shock. After a moment to be mesmerized, he broke the serenity of the scene again by being entirely unable to decide whether he should offer to take his date's jacket or pull his chair out for him. Ultimately, the two of them shuffled through this bungled ritual, Phil shucked his jacket like it had been attacking him, and the pair sat down together.

"I've been well, to answer you," Beam at last responded. He wore a black vest patterned with two fabrics to create an entrancing glossy-on-matte effect. It had fringe trim in ruby red, which is normally not an appropriate descriptor for cloth, but something in the fibers gave it a coruscating quality. It complemented his russet fur, which drank in the dim, atmospheric lighting of the restaurant to be similarly bright. His suit slacks and white-trimmed black shirt fit his slender body as though he had been poured into them, but while his clothes bespoke infinite taste and style, they didn't glitter with jewelry or any ostentation. The outfit was designed to be appreciated up close, not attract the attention of a room.

Phil had not "underdressed" for the date, himself. He wore his least tattered blue jeans, work boots that had obviously been polished that day, and a brand new dress shirt with the creases still in it - as well as the collar tabs, which Beam took the liberty of reaching over and removing.

"Oh, uh. Forgot. Been a while since I had a new shirt."

"Mm. You know I'd rather see you comfortable. You look good in a tank top."

"I look better in nothing. Shit, sorry, shouldn't'a said that."

Beam tittered, apparently charmed. "Don't apologize. I wouldn't be here if I didn't like who you are."

"Is it like a power dynamic fetish thing? Sh- ugh. Sorry again. Look, it's been a long time since I had a second date with anyone, and we're, y'know. Not two peas in a pod. Makes a guy, uh. Nervous, I guess."

The waiter came by at that moment to get wine orders. He was a tall, white Siberian tiger who filled out his burgundy vest and black slacks nicely, and had all the propriety of fine dining with the casual manner of... well, modern-day fine dining. He spared only a glance for Phil's clothing, but a second glance at Beam seemed to put any qualms he had to rest, and with a dashing flash of teeth, he bowed and left to fill their orders.

"It's not 'a fetish thing,' Phil. And I apologize for being so direct - I know it can be jarring."

"No, no, I like it. When I ran with my old crew, it was all, uh, lyrical flexing and talk about the weather when it wasn't business. Like, I get it, but it's not, uh, conducive to getting to know if you wanna spend time around someone."

"And your old crew was... transportation?"

"And enforcement, yeah. Personal bodyguard stuff." Though they were mostly covered, scars as from deep gouges rose above Phil's collarbone and under the side of his jaw, as though he'd been bitten, hard, by something enormous. And that didn't tend to happen in the normal course of transportation work.

Beam smiled, seeming to understand the implication. "I can understand not dropping names and explicit job duties."

"Heh, glad you understand. You, uh, ever dabbled in transport? Takes all types, and you know your victuals and fabrics."

"I have. Trying to revive some old practices recently, actually, after a long hiatus. Mostly the occult."

The wine came, which partially obscured Phil's reaction of flattening his ears and drawing away, like he'd caught a bad smell. "You, uh, ain't recruiting, are you?" he muttered low with a dark look down at his own hands.

"Hm? Oh, no. I'm sorry." He reached out a paw and covered Phil's, to tap a faint tattoo across his knuckles. "No, I wouldn't."

Phil relaxed. "Phew. I'm just, uh, I'm out of the business."

"You said so last time. I assure you, I'm not here to drag you into some scheme. Really, I'm just flexing old muscles for the first time in a while. Currently in an acquisition phase, rather than distribution, anyway."

"Anyway, uh. I know I'm acting all suspicious and nervous. Lotta firsts for me. I've never been to a place like this. You eat here often?"

"No, first time! I haven't been on this side of Out There in quite a while. Try the wine."

"Oh! Yeah for sure. And hey, I know how I look, but I know grapes, alright?"

Beam tilted his head. Tiny, jet black stones were set as studs in his ears in miniature constellations. They were hard not to be entranced by. They looked heavy, but Beam's ears never bowed. "I am very pleasantly surprised," he said, with an earnest, deeply interested smile. "Will you elaborate?"

"Oh, yeah. This's a Tempranillo, so it's kinda big and red and almost juicy, but with a bunch of that, y'know, cigar smoke and leather from light tannins, but it's one in the old style, which y'know I like better, kinda? 'cuz they don't lean on 'oh it's a tannic grape, shut your mouth and drink some boots and say grace for it' like Rioja does, nah, instead, Toro comes shoulders-first with big swinging like plums and cherries, and instead leaves the woodsmoke sitting in the corner all proper, so you got this whole gustatory tableau, know what I'm saying."

Beam fluttered his eyelashes, then hard-blinked once, unused to being the one stunned to silence. "I... am embarrassed for having expected you to proudly proclaim you knew it was red."

Other people would have been offended. Phil guffawed, realized after a few seconds he was louder than the rest of the restaurant, then stifled himself to chuckles. "I get that, I do. But listen, I'm good at exactly two things, and that's judo and wine. I don't do 'jack of all trades, master of none' stuff. I'm uh, jack of maybe six trades and master of two."

"Let's list them off, then? I'll start." Beam held up his hand and snared Phil's gaze with a smile as he counted on his fingers. With each count, Phil felt like his face was getting touched by those gentle taps, by those same gracile fingers that had just beat a rhythm on his knuckles. "Judo. Wine. Transport. Wit. Grace. And charm."

"Hey, don't you go poking fun." Phil couldn't help but grin, though, as he sipped his Tempranillo Toro.

"Fine, fine. Judo. Wine. Security. Logistics. Charming the pants off young, vulnerable businessmen. And... I don't know, do you garden?"

"Now you're making me plead the fifth, full disclosure."

Beam's eyes sparkled at the wordplay. "I'll be curious to see an example performance."

"Hah! I don't get you. But I like that."

The waiter brought the first course. Conversation turned to the food and to trading covert stories about their various illicit operations in "transport." It was a romantic evening all told, culminating in Phil's standing nearly toe-to-toe with his date and then asking, "Hey, you wanna come to my place? I'd say for coffee, but, uh, I'd honestly love to help you take those clothes off a piece at a time."

A pair of couples nearby let out startled giggles and Phil blushed. It had been more than a decade since a "second date." He had led a weird life by dint of what illicit dealings looked like in a modern world with magical qualities, and a hard one by dint of a little bad luck and a colorful palette of bad choices. It had had its fair share of quick fucks and friends with benefits, but he had never really gotten down with the idea of "dating," not since high school, and had honestly forgotten about the concept until recently.

"That and, uh. You are the single most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I'd like to see the rest of you before this dream ends."

"You... have a knack for choosing just the right moments for magniloquence, Phil. Scattering diamonds in the rough like that." Beam leaned in and rested his nose on the other man's, letting that delicate pressure keep him balanced forward. The same cool electricity as from earlier in the evening trickled into Phil, crackling across his senses and making his fur rise pleasantly on end in waves. His broad tail tucked and flicked with the excited tremors famous in his species.

"I guess that means talking good?"

"Bring me to your place and ravish me," Moonlight whispered. His eyes sparkled, giant, black spheres reflecting the city lights.

"Yeah I guess you do. Taxi?"

--

"I gotta warn you, it's a house, but it's not a good part of town."

"I told you I worked in transport, just like you. I may look managerial, but I assure you I know my way around field work."

"Ooooh, alright, alright." Phil looked Beam up and down again from where he sat in the cab. In this lighting, the fur was a much darker color of red, but the tiny ear decorations and ruby thread work caught flashes of light that much more clearly. The body, which had simply seemed slender, was instead wiry, like a coiled, copper spring. Phil asked, "You, uh. Ever throw down? I guess I thought you were exaggerating a little with that story about getting into the z-"

"The statute of limitations hasn't run out on that one, yet," Beam smoothly cut him off, "but we can talk about it later. Yes, I can pull my weight in a fight."

Phil shook his head. "Incredible. That's incredible! You're so... I like you! You're a great dude."

Beam smiled and cast his gaze out of the car window. They both did, discretely keeping eyes and ears on any potential unwanted visitors. One never could be sure, and what with his eyes, threads, and gemstones, Hoarfrost - that is, Beam - might attract unwanted attention.

The pair made it safely to Phil's front door, fortunately. It was a squat, stucco-and-vinyl house with a threadbare yard in the front and back. Much of its outdoor acreage was taken up by slabs of concrete and an asphalt driveway that held a beat-up Volvo Phil hadn't gotten a transmission for, yet, but the paint on the front steps and porch was recently done in a pale, discreet purple. A desert plant in a pot and a couple tall grasses near the porch made a pleasant little pocket of order and care on an otherwise dull, listless piece of property, and showed that it was a loved, listless piece of property.

"You've done well by this place, Phil."

"Yeah, 's all recent. I got outta the game, like I said, and decided I'd do what queers do and add property value, y'know?"

"You've done it nicely."

"Well, welcome inside. It ain't much, but it's my 'ain't much.'"

He finished unlocking the deadbolt, opened the door, and tossed his keys up and behind him, aimed at a magnetic wall mount. Beam grabbed them out of the air, made sure he had Phil's eye, then opened his mouth, dangled the keys around his lips to let the cool metal dance inside, then curled his tongue back, smiled, and swallowed.

"Wh, what'd you do that for," Phil said, leaning away from the shorter man. His eyes went wide and bright. It wasn't really a question. It was obvious what had happened: Beam had swallowed the keys to his house. Flirtatiously. The evening sat still and silent. Its timbre had shifted abruptly. It became evident the hue in Beam's fur hadn't caught up with the lighting in Phil's home - instead, it was the color it had been in the cab, as though light didn't always travel with Beam.

The red squirrel didn't answer. Instead, he stepped up close to Phil and grabbed his hips. He rubbed circles on Phil's upper thighs while leaning his waist in against the bigger man. The motion gave Phil a sense of vertigo because as Beam rubbed, his body grew and the pressures coming from him changed. The red squirrel then slipped his hands in Phil's pockets. His chest was pressed up against Phil's and his weight was forward - and it was much more weight, Phil thought, than he had guessed. Beam pulled out an old, grey, faux-leather wallet in one hand and a smart phone in the other. With his growing erection pushed against Phil's groin through their clothes, he lifted first the phone up to his lips. He tasted along its edges, kissed its surfaces, and found and lapped up the traces of where Phil's digits would press and swipe. The sounds of his tongue were close and wet. He seemed to be purely delighted by what he was doing. He tilted one corner up against his lower lip, then in a quick series of snatches of his teeth and tongue so fast Phil couldn't react, he tucked it into the back of his throat, widened his gullet, and gulped. The phone was gone, and when it went, Beam's body swelled again. He was still several inches shorter than Phil, but he had undergone an obvious change.

"Y-what the fuck. What is this." Something was igniting in Phil's brain. Fuck. He had an idea of what was happening, when he looked deep in Phil's void-lit eyes. They weren't just black. They were as deep as the galaxies. And Phil had met that blackness more than once. He suddenly had a clearer picture of that cold, electric feeling he'd had when touching noses with Beam. It hadn't just been tingling skin voltage. It had been real.

He assumed Beam would have more trouble with the wallet than the metallic keys or the sleek smart phone, just given the material, but while he was too transfixed to act, Beam daintily bit the leather, then yanked at it with his teeth and tongue and throat like an animal bolting down a catch. It vanished inside him and again, Beam swelled in size. They were getting closer together, but still, Phil's nose touched Beam's forehead if they both looked straight forward.

"I don't know why I think this is as hot as it is," Phil confessed, while he felt his cock twitching in his jeans, getting desperate for release. The back of his brain was trying to churn through the reasoning, but that was hard, with so much of his circulation directed to his loins.

"You seem at least partially familiar with it," Beam teased. He smiled and said, "We should fuck, then, if you're that turned on by it."

"A smarter man wouldn't," Phil muttered. His hands were already unfastening Beam's belt buckle and zipper, though, and he shoved his lips forward and down against the muzzle that had just consumed the three most symbolically valuable things he owned: shelter, connection, and wealth. He pulled his lips away, barely aware they'd gone numb in the kiss, then picked Beam up in one strong arm and flung him over his shoulder. Latching the smaller man to him with that arm, he used the other to yank down Beam's pants so they dangled from his calves, then slapped a sable underwear-clad ass with the flat of his palm.

"I don't know what position you prefer or what kinda game this is - I'm getting those back out of you - but in my book, that sorta thing earns a smacked ass. And skies be damned, that's an ass." He casually popped his arm up to roll Beam's body so he could more easily bite the meat of the nearest cheek with the side of his jaw and snarl. At last, he unloaded Beam onto his bed with a grunted "tuck your chin" and got to work stripping his own clothes off.

Beam sat up and watched with open admiration. Phil's frame was hard and lean everywhere as it got gradually uncovered: corded shoulders, chest and biceps like rounded bricks, steely thighs, and a thick neck, all coated in a thin, patchy covering of fur that was in parts bare pink and in parts white with scars of varying depths and ages. Also hard was, of course, the eager, vascular cock that pounded with his pulse over the generous nuts due his heritage.

The smaller squirrel crawled forward to rub his nose along Phil's cock, then grip his contoured body and climb up him like the trunk of a particularly warm tree, with claws digging in with little pinpricks. He kissed the hard man's body as he explored it and tasted it with his tongue. "This, you, are why I came back," he whispered.

"I'm gonna ask what all that's about," Phil growled between kisses. Everywhere they touched, they sent out that chilling spark, at once pleasurable and strange. He needed to ask what that was, too. For now, though, he just stood and let himself be admired. He knew when he'd made a bad decision, and this was one of those times. He also knew how to ride those out and enjoy them, and he planned to do so, thoroughly. And, he knew when someone needed a good admiring, and Beam seemed to have been through a desert.

"I'll tell you," Beam reassured him. He then worked his way back down Phil's body to his cock, teased himself against its tip a few times, then engulfed the head with his lips and began greedily working his way down the shaft, twisting his head and coating it with his tongue as he went.

Phil's knees shook. He had had plenty of head, but he'd never had it like this. Triplet sensations of heat, cold, and toe-curling electricity coursed down his shaft where Beam touched him: warm, wet lips and cool, flowing breath and electrifying, fiery tongue. His claws dug into the other man's shoulders. His inner animal wanted nothing more than to muzzle-fuck this mobster, but he'd had a stated plan since before getting in the cab, and he intended to pursue it, so he fluidly rolled Beam onto his back, made sure those worshipful lips had plenty access to his cock, and began leaning over Beam to unbutton him from neck to waist. Beam was compliant: He shrugged one shoulder, then the other to get out of his vest, then the same with his shirt. It was clearer now that what had seemed like flaming copper fur in the restaurant lighting and on their first date was now like glowing coals. When Phil hesitated with a white undershirt, Beam grabbed both his wrists, directed them to the hem, then covered his knuckles - again, those featherlight taps - and directed him, through movement and intent, to shred the shirt open. Tearing a shirt off completely is, in most cases, easier said than done, because collars are often reinforced. When Phil encountered this conundrum, though, Beam wordlessly instructed him to simply brace one hand against the front of his throat and tear with the other. As soon as Phil began to comply, Beam changed the angle of his muzzle with a minute jump and widened his throat around the other man's cock head. With a series of grunts and carefully applied pressure to the carotid artery, Phil watched Beam's eyes flutter with dimming vision just before he ripped through the collar, then tossed away the tattered remains.

He didn't say anything. Phil wasn't much of a talker during sex, though he'd learned to communicate. That night, he communicated sheer adoration at what lay before him. The long belly glittered with thin, silvery tattoos like constellations in the night sky. They would have been invisible in Beam's other - more natural? - coloring, but here, they shone, over a torso slender and taut like a whip. The bigger man could do little but try to control his breathing as the beauty enveloped him. He walked his hands over a few of the lines, but ultimately found himself dumbly gripping under Beam's shoulders and humping his throat, huge nuts swinging up against the smaller man's inverted forehead while he did.

After a few minutes of this, Beam signaled for a dismount. Phil tilted his hips back to release, then let his throbbing, aching member loom over Beam's face, glistening with saliva. "Are you intimidated?" asked the strange man from below.

"I think I know what's going on. And if it's what I think it is, no point in running. But I figure, the hits don't stop, right, and you can whine about it, you can grind your teeth to the gums at it, or you can meet it eyes wild and cock out."

"Your eyes, though. You seem sad."

"Just worried this is the only time I'll uh. Get to see something like you." He ran his hand through the scarlet-under-pitch fur of Beam's chest. Then, he hissed and tilted his head back as he felt the other man's maw open around first one nut, to roll it on his tongue with its strange, electrifying sensations, then the other. It drove the scrim of sadness to the periphery and with a firm decision, Phil discarded the sensation.

"Cum all across me, then. Make it yours, for a while."

Phil cupped the red squirrel's cheeks in his paws while Beam went back to sucking around his magnificently mouth-filling orbs, then began jacking himself off. He held onto Beam's shoulder with his free paw. He gave out hisses and barks as he stroked himself. His body surged towards orgasm in billowing storm fronts driven by the strange squirrel's tongue as it danced over his testicles. He hunched, and pressed his palm down against Beam's chest, then up over his neck, then cupping the back of his head with a possessive grip, before he bucked his hips in a lightning strike of climax and spattered a line of seed down Beam's body from neck to the exposed underside of his tail for its entire length, spraying over his belly and well-tented briefs and swiftly joined by three more, and then three more, and more without ceasing, each a thick rope until Beam's torso was soaked and criss-crossed with cum. The smaller squirrel insistently nuzzled upwards to the source of the sputtering stream to coat his muzzle in the stuff adoringly, and gathered multiple shots of it in his maw to gulp down into his belly.

The man heaved. "That's... an incredibly good-looking man, is what that is," Phil chuckled quietly between steadying breaths. "I've never cum like that."

"That feels wonderful. You're so warm." Beam looked up at him and let his jaw hang open to show the cum-soaked interior, then intently lapped his tongue around his lips to gather it all and swallowed. And again - his body grew.

Phil leaned onto the bed with his form covering Beam's, and with little ceremony, shoved his nose under the briefs he'd splashed with the velocity of his cumshot and immediately gathered the shaft he found there, sight unseen, into his maw. He tucked his thumbs under the waistband and pushed, palms gliding over a firm rear end and slender hips, until it was at Beam's knees and could be kicked off. With smooth, cat-like strength and flexibility, Phil stepped and rotated his way around, without pausing his fellating, until he was kneeling perpendicular to his point of contact. One hand gathered cum up from where it had coated that wiry chest, then deposited it via two fingers underneath Beam's tail. The gesture was met with a high gasp, arched hips, and a commandingly raised tail that twitched in that way particular to squirrels, rhythmically tapping against the bedspread. Two, three, four more times, knowing to be generous, Phil spread that natural lubricant, before lifting off Beam's shaft to look up at the other man, saliva hanging between his lips and the throbbing cock he'd tasted, and adding his own spit to the mix under Beam's tail with a tongue demanding entry. The other man again cried out breathlessly and arched his hips, which tucked his tail, so Phil snagged it and pressed it down to the bed, making way for his adventurous tongue to drive deeply, repeatedly, until he was certain he'd done his due diligence.

Finally, again with practiced grace that was at once uncanny and completely natural on his muscular frame, Phil walked on his knees to get between Beam's, then yanked up hard on his hips with his arms and jumped to his feet. He held the red squirrel's weight by one thigh and used his opposite hand to press down on his still-hard cock, glorying in the fact only lesser mammals needed refractory periods, and slid it inside Beam an inch at a time while the beautiful creature crooned in pained delight, arms splayed out above and behind him in total trust of Phil's strength.

Phil fucked hard. He was not a man of half measures. He let his adoring gaze sweep Beam's body, taking in the cum-streaked constellations, the glittering eyes and earrings, the smoldering fur, and the newly revealed, garnet-red cock that was as hard as any precious stone with need. Phil pounded away, making fat nuts and heavy cock swing this way and that while their bushy tails beneath writhed and convulsed with pleasure. The prostate had been found, and it was being treasured.

Eventually, Beam slid one leg up and over Phil's frame. He pushed himself up on his hands and braced, making his bare arms bulge and strain with their corded musculature to push back against that pounding. Phil stared in open admiration, finally noticing that whatever had let the strange creature grow again had at last made him bigger than Phil. Still, he pounded away, hands constantly exploring shifting, growing hard lines and curves, dipping beneath to jack the other man off, dimpling sensitive skin around the hips and thighs.

"C... close!" Beam cried out. Phil's eyes flashed wide. He'd never made someone cum this way. He wasn't a stupid lover, though - he locked the exact angle and movements and rhythm he'd just been using into place. No reason to get creative when it was already working. At most, he quickened his pace slightly, unable to stop himself when that cry of pleasure and warning lit his arousal to a furious new height.

And then, at last, he felt Beam clenching around his cock and heard the wet slaps of thick, viscous liquid on bedsheets. He wrapped his grip tighter, doubling his arms over each other around Beam's waist to totally anchor his hips, and fucked mercilessly until his second climax launched through him and he snarled out his ecstasy. With the other man's expert clenching and straining arms to press back against him, he jammed himself another half inch deeper and flooded Beam's insides with his cum, shot after shot after shot, until finally, shuddering, he dismounted and dropped the man's hindquarters to the bed.

Following instinct more than anything, Phil slipped down to his knees to straddle Beam's hips and keep him from rolling over. He wasn't generally tender. He didn't have any reason to be tender with someone who was acting as strangely as this man, who had swallowed his belongings as though it were foreplay. And yet, he clung to the fantasy that this was still a regular second date with a ravishing man and leaned forward to dig his thumbs into that ravishing man's now much larger shoulder blades and soothe muscles that had braced him during their lovemaking, while both of their flanks heaved to take deep gulps of air.

"Ooh..." the creature crooned. His pulse was almost audible. For minutes, he lay there, calm and grateful for the aftercare. He simply indulged in Phil's uncharacteristic gentleness. After those few minutes, he curled his body in a controlled wave of muscular contractions and, with hardly a sound, produced the keys he'd swallowed earlier. He half-turned from where he was and held them until Phil noticed. They were coated in the grey squirrel's cum, but otherwise seemed... clean.

"What?" Phil asked, not knowing what else to say.

"Not the same as a normal stomach. I thought you'd like to know it wasn't anything distasteful."

"Come on, man. Don't ruin this for me. Give me another minute of this," he grunted, going slowly rigid across his body and expression. "You're gonna eat me, aren't you? It's sort of what demons do."

The word "demons" seemed to hang in the air between the two of them. Beam nodded. He wasn't wounded by the accusation. He in fact had that same soft, certain smile that he'd held for much of the evening.

"So, do it, but like. Give a mortal man a little while to pretend, would you?"

"We all start as mortal men, Phil. Why pretend? You charmed and laid with a demon. It's far from a common experience. I do enjoy your company, as one man enjoy's another's. I simply have needs and appetites."

"Well." Phil sat back, then used his knees to roll Beam over so they could face one another and so he could trace his claw tips along the lines decorating the demon's chest, dragging his semen over them. It felt weird. It felt romantic. It felt like he was on the cusp of becoming someone more than he had been before, and that all that newness would simply now... go, into this creature. His heart pounded in his chest. He didn't know what to expect. He considered running, but what would running do? It was well past his chance to try anything like that. The most, he hoped, was that earnest honesty might get him some kind of... leniency. "How's this go?"

"I'm not interested in just flesh." The demon pointed over to the nightstand, where Phil kept a vanity coffee mug he'd gotten in high school. "A little 'demon trick' that makes consuming the material world simpler." A spectral, black muzzle that was a translucent, large replica of Beam's own rose from the surface of the little table and swallowed the mug. When it did, the physical squirrel gulped, as well. The ghostly maw retreated, leaving the table empty. No sooner had that muzzle retreated from view than another rose from the floor and took the entire nightstand away. Again, Beam swallowed, but no shapes appeared in his belly. The things Phil owned were just... gone.

All around, these maws appeared, progressively larger and more feral, as they took all the things that helped Phil define himself and swallowed them away. Memorabilia, pictures, and nostalgic nicknacks went first. Then, larger items. He heard pots and pans clattering from the kitchen, heard tools large and small shaken loose in his garage.

He couldn't help himself. He felt like he was floating in some surreal moment, even as he looked at a body stained with his own seed, felt the wet and the heat and the heartbeat. He leaned forward on Beam's torso and felt around his belly. Nothing in there. He leaned further forward, paws on his chest, and looked inside his obligingly gaping maw. White teeth in blackness, with a crimson, welcoming tongue. He didn't see anything in there. Just an articulated emptiness. A courtesy of mundane flesh giving way to infinite blackness. He felt strong hands on his hips and flinched reflexively. He felt hot breath behind him and looked to see a maw the size of the room reaching out from the wall to engulf the entire bed where they lay. When he looked back, Beam was tilting him forward with hips and arms. He breathed hard and shallow. He was going in. He felt teeth drag along his muzzle, his face, his skull and neck. He leaned over a chasm, teeth now over his chest, his torso, his belly - and then he fell, and fell, and fell, inside A Hoarfrost Glade and a Beam of Moonlight.

--

A Hoarfrost Glade gracefully dismounted from the bed and, with panache, gulped Phil's feet down at the same time the disembodied maw from the wall did away with the bed. He walked calmly out of the house, collecting his clothing as he did and shrinking back down to size so he could don them. Phil had been truly charming and enchanting, but A Hoarfrost Glade had been hungry for years, and at long last had enough freedom to move about in the world to go on a lovely date like this one that would start rebuilding his resources and reserves. He checked his earrings in a mirror - just before it was claimed by another maw - to ensure that a new one had fallen into place as Phil had become his, and indeed, he appeared to have a new permanent resident. He smiled to himself and tapped on the new stone with that same delicate rhythm he'd used on Phil all night.

The small "red" squirrel stepped out of the house. As he walked down the steps, the largest maw so far gaped wide and consumed Phil's car, removing it from the world. And as he finished buttoning up his shirt, hot wind filled with red light poured over his back. His head tilted backwards in rapture and his own throat filled with light. He hung the cum-coated keys he'd regurgitated over his maw and, ecstatic with the parallelism, dropped them inside again. A spectral head the size of the house had risen up out of the ground behind it. Their eyes were devoid. Teeth flashed brilliant and enormous in the suddenly sweltering night air. The house itself vanished inside that maw and Beam gulped delicately as he consumed it along with the keys to it.

The squirrel looked behind him to survey an empty lot. It was good to be back from the other side. He was glad he'd met Phil. It had been a lovely, romantic evening, and this was the best end to it he could imagine. The other man's crude mannerisms punctuated with moments of intense charm and honesty had taken him by pleasant surprise and made Beam even more sincerely pleased about how things had turned out. It was good to have such a man.

A Hoarfrost Glade and a Beam of Moonlight walked calmly away, with a soft smile on his lips. Their waiter that night had been handsome, too...