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In the quiet of the Mobotropolis night, Princess Sally lays in her bed. In recent times, sleep has become much easier than it ever had been. With the final freedom against the tyranny and terrorism that bothered her home, she can just be herself, especially after that last mission, which had been a complete success, despite that unexpected detour.

The pollen of the flowers had driven her mad with desire on that odd day. Even when she and the rest of the Freedom Fighters had successfully shut down that final facility, she found that her sleep hadn't been nearly as restful as the rest of her day.

Every night, she returns to that cave, sees his body, experiences his warmth, and feels the throbbing fullness that comes from his cock.

When she finally hears his voice huffing those romantic words through husky breaths, she can't help but cry out, even in her room, a yelp of want that ends with her laying in her bed, sprawled out, her sheets kicked almost off, and sweat staining her fur.

She lays, sprawled out, staring at her ceiling, gulping, letting the cold of the night touch her bare fur before she kicks herself up from her bed and walks over toward her balcony, where she stares off into the cityscape beyond and down toward a tiny little house with a lovely little garden. She bites her lip and then bites her thumb, the voice in the back of her head screaming for her.

And it is a voice she heeds as a plan formulates in her mind.

--

The laboratory is the property of the Brain Trust--the greatest minds in the world, and a handful of its members are among Sally's friends. When she left the cave, she didn't leave it empty-handed and gave samples to the biology department. As the princess, she can get through security and into the botanical gardens.

"Here it is, princess," says the doctor, smirking. "The results of our research are quite intriguing. But I'm sure you know that already."

"Is it safe?" Sally asks her hands up against the glass, her breath fogging up the window to the small chamber where the single flower blooms.

"What things worth it aren't without risk?" the doctor asks. "I won't ask for any specifics, but you must let me know the results."

"Oh, I will," Sally says, her lips quivering, curling her fingers against the window.

--

Antoine enjoys a lovely day out in his garden, watering the flowers and whistling an old war-time tune. The petals dance and shudder after being gifted a refreshing drink, and their little dance reminds Antoine of a time ago. He squeezes his hose, furrows his brow, and returns to work.

"General D'Coolette!" calls a voice.

He looks up to see the postal worker flapping down from the air and perching upon his fence. She reaches a wing into her bag and produces upon it a red envelope. "Got a special delivery for you."

"Ah, tres bien, thank you," Antoine says, taking the letter. He opens it, his eyes scanning over the words, and his arms shudder when he reads the envelope and smells the perfume that comes from it, but it is not a strange summons.

"Yes, we should discuss future strategies," he says. "For the betterment of the kingdom. There is much the military can do for a constructive purpose," he pockets the letter and turns off the hose. There's much to do to prepare, after all. Time to dust off the straps of his station and get out of this gardener's attire.

--

At the appointed time, Antoine arrives at the royal palace, bearing a carrot cake and a flower from his garden. The guards let him pass with no issue, being such a close friend of the family, but as he heads to the sitting room, the guards stop him and point him down the hall. Quizzically, he whines, but the coyote is a dutiful soldier, and he makes his way through the hall and up the stairs.

"Is the princess alright?" he wonders to himself as he arrives at the end of the hall and at the entrance to her chambers. "I am hoping she is not sick."

He knocks on the door and glances around. There's no servant nor guard here. It's peculiarly peculiar in wartime, and it's no longer wartime, and it is no longer wartime. That is what makes him ill.

He knocks on the door, asking, "Princess, are you alright here? You are not sick, are you? Have you seen the doctor?"

The door pushes open from his knocking, and the coyote peers within. "I am apologizing if this is an awkward moment," he says, "but I am worried about your health, mon Princess."

"You don't need to worry about me, Antoine," comes from the other side of the door. Sally stands by the window, looking outside. Draped over her body is a silk robe. She looks over her shoulder at him, and her eyes are half-lidded. "I'm wonderful. Better than fine, really. Come on in."

Antoine wrinkles his nose, stepping inside. A tingle hits his nostrils, and he sneezes.

"No, this is perfect," she says, turning around. She holds a potted plant in her hands, the flower from the cave.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you, Antoine," Sally says. "About that night... about how you claimed me. Now... I've decided you'll have me again!"

Antoine stands in Sally's room, his jaw dropped and his body frozen at the sight of the princess holding that flower from that strange cave. The coyote is unsure whether his hesitation is out of pure surprise or out of his body, telling him not to interfere with what is to come. Regardless of his decision, it is Sally who makes the next move.

The princess drops her robes, letting them roll over her shoulders and down over her body, revealing the beautiful browns of her fur and body shape. There was a time when such a sight would not be so alluring, as Sally had no shame of her body, but as she covered herself more in recent years, the view of her breasts and her nude hips had gone from an everyday occurrence and instead transformed into a special treat--one that Antoine suspects that she only is giving to him.

Sally steps forward, placing the potted plant carefully upon her nightstand as she approaches him with the seductive swaying of her hips and the fluttering of her eyes as she stands before him.

He breaks the silence even though her body casts a spell against him. "My princess," he whispers. "We cannot do this. It has never been your desire, and I know you never wished to follow arranged marriages or anything, and I, ep!"

She places a finger upon her lips and silences the general. I don't care about politics, and I don't care about customs or logic. Do you want to know what I care for?

He takes a deep breath. Was he purposefully inhaling the flower's fragrance, or was he so tied to the scent of Sally's pheromones Or, even more oddly, did he have a higher-level want to remember her smell? He cannot tell, but he can respond. "Oh, oui...!"

Sally places a hand upon his chest, slipping fingers down over his fur, tracing the hidden contours of his well-sculpted form underneath. She lowers herself down as she keeps her eyes locked upon his own. The coyote whimpers, grasping his gifts for her even as she gets down onto her knees, her hands resting on his hips. "I want you," she says finally, "to realize something. That day in the cave," she says, her hands moving away from him, resting upon her knees, squishing her breasts together as her lips turn up into a genuine smile, "that you claimed me as your mate."

"Mon Dieu..." he whispers to himself. Is that the answer to the puzzles that had vexed his mind the whole time? The ancient and nearly forgotten practices of Mobiankind of matehood had folded into marriage ceremonies and the auspicious of the law. They had sealed something far more primal in that cave. The flowers had, and still do, provide the true union of flesh.

Sally leans in, her nose brushing up against the head of Antoine's now-erect cock.

The coyote yelps, taking a step back, dropping the gifts right by her, and clattering to the floor. When did his manhood emerge? How did he not realize how much he throbbed in desire for her?

"You're too tied to your propriety," Sally says, lifting a hand up, letting the head of his cock rest upon her wrist. She watches it, breathing in open-mouthed astonishment and letting the hot air moisten his member. "You worry too much about a sword of steel when your greatest tool has been with you all of your life."

Antoine licks his lips as he watches, his fingers twitching, his breath quickening.

Sally leans in, closing her mouth and pressing her lips upon the tip of his cock. She does this a few more times, letting the smacking sound fill the room as no more words seem to be coming between the two. After such quick little teases, she flicks the tip of her tongue against the head, swirling over the opening, flicking down along the hood to the sensitive section under the tip.

He sighs, his legs shaking, but he quickly remembers his strength and training. He stands resolute, holding his hands behind his back, letting her have his dick for her inspection, his head held high.

Sally giggles at this, letting the thing run up along her snout as she kisses the underside. She rolls her tongue out, pressing it under the tip, letting that muscle tickle up along his shaft, and flick at the head.

His eyes flutter slightly, his nostrils flare, and his breath becomes somewhat strained, but he does not let his voice go too high.

"What's the matter, mate?" she asks, wrapping her fingers around the shaft, stroking it with slow, methodical movements. "Don't you enjoy this?" Her words are more moans than speech. "Groan for me, please. I need to hear you."

"Aaahn... haa..." he finally lets go, his arms dangling to his sides.

"Mmm, that's it," she says, shuddering from shoulders to knees, and with that confirmation that he loves her actions, she renews her efforts.

That cock practically disappears into her mouth. The warm cavern of Sally's maw is a beauty he has no words for, but he can feel kindred to his ancestors at that moment. And as her tongue rides up along the bottom of his shaft and her lips suck gently upon a ring of delight, a shock rises up through Antoine's body--one that compels him to let go. But this goes counter to his desire to let her continue, to allow Sally to paint his penis with her spit and to moan from the reactions she gives him.

By the Walkers, Sally is perfect. Dare he breaks that perfection to take her and use her?

Antoine watches Sally as she works on his shaft, taking more of his long coyote cock into her mouth. He places a hand upon her head, running a gloved hand over her hair, and sighs. "Oo la la," he says, taking a deep breath. "I suppose it is true what they say about the squirrels and their nuts, non?"

Sally narrows her gaze, opening her mouth wide. She slides her hands around his thigh and squeezes that firm soldier tush before she slams her face against his hips. Her nose presses against his pubic mound, and her jaw opens wide, lips pulling in the dangling sacs, tongue rolling the two inside her warm and now stuffed mouth.

"Z... zut alors!" he gasps, leaning forward over her, his once attentive legs buckling now at the sheer force of Sally's attack upon his cock. "This... this is the flower, but no, is it... it is you. It's always been you." He grips her head with his other hand, gritting his teeth. He pants through it, growling. "Just as this... has always... been me!"

With all of his determination, he pulls her away from his dick and pulls himself away from her mouth.

Sally gasps, her tongue rolled out, a sticky mix of precum and spit bridge between herself and Antoine's body as she takes deep, gasping, groaning breaths, her eyes generally unfocused with one slightly more open than the other.

"I'm your mate, oui?" Antoine asks, loosening his grip on her and sliding his palm down over her cheek. "Then perhaps we should be doing the mating instead of this foreplay?"

Sally swallows a lump in her throat, her mouth not as gaping but still gulping down big breaths as her heart flutters in her chest.

"Then, let us mate!" The soldier says, squatting down and scooping her up, carrying her with his hands gripping possessively. He leans into her, giving her a gentle peck on the cheek before he climbs onto the bed, plops himself down upon it, kicks off his boots, and leans back.

Sally blinks a moment, confused, but soon smirks, shifting to straddle the coyote. "Oh, I see," she growls, her hands sliding down his shoulders. "That's how you want it."

"You are forever my fearless leader," he sighs.

"Just be glad I like to take the lead," she purrs. So she grinds up against that pole, biting her lip as she watches his length twitch and rubs over her, feeling the toughness and the warmth against her fur and her fur tickling the sensitive flesh of that coyote cock. "Mmmgh... this time, you won't let go. That's an order. I escaped you before, but not this time. This time... we breed!"

Sally slips her wet and wanting lips up along that poll and immediately gobbles up that cock, letting that sword sheathe itself into her snatch. She rolls her lips with her teeth, leaning forward to watch the man eye-to-eye. Her hips then start to move, bouncing up and down along that pole, sinking deeper with each thrust as she stares at him with manic delight.

Antoine watches her, fully transformed now from that princess he always knew into something completely animal, and yet something still wholly her. He takes a deep breath and reaches up, gripping her hips, helping to direct her as she pounds against him, his cock tilting this way and that as her awkward dance upon him beats him against the soft cushion of the bed.

"Such ... such strength... tuh... tenacity...!" he sighs. "Mon dieu... this is... this is!"

"S... shut up!" she groans, "and fuck me, you stud!" She says this, grabbing his cheeks and leaning in, forehead to forehead, as she rides him, slicking that cock deep into her, feeling it spread and stretch her insides.

Mm... mmm!" he responds, squeezing her tighter as he thrusts up against her, the two slamming together at the same time, clapping their bodies together in the ancient rhythm as they had done back in that cave. It felt like so long ago, yet they are together here as if they had never left. No, it is more than that. They have left the cave. They have surpassed the drug of the flower and instead revel in it, letting it waft all around them as their bodies and souls become one.

"A... aaann...t...waaan..." Sally speaks with her head lowered, where he cannot see her face, but she doesn't need to see her face. She can smell the lust wafting up. He can hear her need.

He grunts in response, not wanting to break his vow to her at the start of his dance, but listens intently as his manhood swells, wanting to go farther. His steadfast dedication to her kept it from going too far.

"I wan.... an...t" she groans.

"Yes?" He finally breaks his oath.

She snaps to look at him, her eyes filled with desire and something else. Is it love? No, can't be. This is some pre-love urge that all sexual beings have. "I want you to... to knot me, Antoine, and I want you to never, ever look back!"

That is all he needs to spur himself toward the crescendo of their composition. He grips his knees against her waist and, with his military training, flips her over onto the bed, her back slamming against the mattress. He stares at her with his unfocused gaze, his teeth bared in a possessive growl. In the spin, his cock has slipped out, but no more, for it is red and throbbing, and already he can feel the desire for it to lock into her and never let go.

And before he goes in for the final assault, he throws his head back and announces his intentions with a loud, long, and needy howl that breaks through the palace and out into the night!

With that canine declaration, all pretenses were instantly shattered. Throughout the palace and even a few city blocks beyond, the word was spreading of something happening in the castle. The guards look at one another but remember the explicit instructions of the princess. "I have a top-secret meeting tonight. Do not bother me under any circumstances, no matter what you see or hear."

And if they were to listen anymore, they would hear and see so much more.

Sally lays on the bed, her eyes practically filled with lust and love as her face contorts into a grin of pure erotic delight. Her stomach bulges as each thrust of Antoine's coyote cock fills her deeper and deeper, fulfilling that heat-filled need that every Mobian woman deals with.

And with each of Antoine's mighty masculine thrusts, Sally can feel the exact thing she's been hoping for this entire time. Slowly, the base of his cock swells, getting larger and larger, spreading out at the entrance of her womanhood. With each thrust, his length gets less deep inside her. With each grunt, his actions are quick jabs than gigantic pushes. With each moment, the two of them become ever closer to just becoming one!

And it is as at some point during this missionary mounting that Antoine's knot actually swells. Antoine cannot remember nor care when, as the process was interlaced with the happiness and delight that comes from watching the want and desire on Sally's face and feeling the closeness and correctness of their joining. He doesn't speak, for what does he have to say? At this moment, they are not themselves but all the sensations around them. They are the palace and the bed, the cave, and the flower. They are each other, and they are no one.

It is wonderful.

She wraps her legs around him, pulling him in, though it is futile. Now that he's swollen and knotted in her, there's nowhere for either of them to go. So, they either hold onto each other as he ensures she's fully impregnated, or they sit there and cuddle, and who the fuck wants to cuddle when connected to the hottest individual either one of them has seen?

With a snarl, he lowers his face against hers, mashing their mouths together. Awkwardly, their mouths smack, and their tongues interact, all while they press their chests against one another and rub fur upon fur. Clothing is cast aside, but neither knows when or how, but the why, oh, the why. That need to feel nothing but themselves as they touch and grope and fuck--it is overwhelming.

She grips his hair, and he gropes at her ass. She clings her legs against him, and he fucks her as hard as he can with that knot keeping them together. Just that tip banging on and on at that same spot is enough to send Sally spiraling into delightful gasps each time. Of course, the length is perfect for striking her repeatedly at her most sensitive locations.

Her eyes roll back, and her vision blurs. She sees stars and feels eternity creeping upon her as Antoine prepares to grant her the gift of la petit mort.

Antoine breaks the kiss. It's too much for him to handle. The build-up and the excitement send him rearing again, telling the whole town again that he is here and this is his woman, his mate! His howl reverberates all through him, wavering only because, at the same time, he reaches his climax.

It is a series of hot pumps that splash and spill throughout Sally's starving snatch. And her cervix slurps it up, filling her womb with the batter necessary to put inside her the pups she so desperately craves. And the thought and feeling of carrying his children send her over the edge, her body contracting and milking him for every last drop of semen he has.

His arms quake, and he collapses upon her, groaning in the first refractory exhaustion that hits him. She wraps her arms around him, pulling his face close toward her breast, practically burying him. Her gaze is one of partial fulfillment and partial need. Her hunger cannot be satisfied, and she kisses him on the forehead, ready to show him how much more she can handle.

The question then turns to this: is he able to handle more himself?"

She reaches over her shoulder, her hand fumbling over the nightstand, slapping at the wood in loud and clumsy mind-addled thumps.

He lifts his face from her wonderful mounds, letting out confused puppy-like whimpers before he sees the object of her desire--the flower.

She swipes it off the bed and practically throws the thing into his face, giving his sniffer a long hit of its intoxicating pollen.

Antoine knocks it aside, pushing himself up to a seated position, and lifts Sally up alongside him, his arms strong, his grip and his hold stronger. He sits her upon his lap, growling as he furrows his brow and looks upon him. "You think I need that scent to perform?" he asks. "Non... I shall fuck you however and whenever I want on my own terms, my princess!"

She grips his shoulders, riding that cock still inside her, rolling her hips, biting her lips, fluttering her eyes in a playful tease.

He snorts, closes his eyes, tilts his neck back, and lets out a soft, long moan. Perhaps, for the time being, he should let her take the lead while he recuperates...

The commotion around the palace has people asking a lot of questions. These questions make their way back to the Brain Trust's laboratory, where the scientist is scrolling through notifications of gossip revolving around the royal family. She smirks as she scrolls through, scribbling notes on a pad next to her. "Yes, your highness, it's working quite admirably so far. I can't wait to see when the next part of the flower's effects kicks in."

Sally lays on the bed, her legs wrapped around Antoine, her heart beating to the same frantic rhythm as his.

Antoine smacks his lips, panting in hoarse breaths, his throat rough from the loud howls. He leans in, nuzzling against her, kissing her on the cheek, forehead, and lips. "My princess," he huffs out. "This is... incredible... more than... more than in the cave."

"We don't need the cave," Sally says, pressing her nose against his and rubbing gently. "We don't even need the flower... except to give us an edge."

"Oh, oui," the coyote says, running a hand through the princess's hair. "Perhaps just a sniff here and there, or perhaps a perfume to use to help rile up the senses, non?"

"That sounds wonderful," Sally says, biting her lip.

"In fact, let me go get that right away!" he pulls back, only to feel the tug of his knot stuck inside her. He collapses back, hands on either side of her, chuckling. "Oo, la, la... I have forgotten that we are stuck together."

Sally giggles at that, squeezing him in close, letting their chests press deeper into one another. "How about we let your sword finish what it started, hm?"

"Oh, but princess," he says, giving her another peck on the lips. "Surely, if we are not careful, you shall be bred, hm?"

"There's nothing I want more in the world, mate."

That word, spoken by this beautiful creature, is enough to bring the coyote back to a state of heated bliss. He chuckles, rolling his shoulder and pulling himself gently away, letting his knot tug at her just a little bit. "It will require some moving, but I wish you to turn around. Can you do this?"

Sally smirks and grips the bed, reaching over and rolling over. Antoine maneuvers himself gently, letting the feeling of his cock spinning around inside her locked loveliness send him spiraling. Walls rub against meat, particularly at that swollen knot, and soon, the two face the same direction.

"Are you going to fuck me raw like a dog?" Sally says, pushing herself up to a seated position against Antoine.

He reaches around and grabs her breast, moving a hand down between her legs, fingers playing at her button. "Non," he whispers into her ear. He nips upon the sensitive lobe, letting her gasp and shudder down her body, her small tail tickling over his pubic area.

He rolls onto his side, bringing her down with him with a little squeak of surprise, and soon, both hands wrapped around her, rubbing against her stomach. "We shall lay here like this. We shall be lovers together."

She leans back against him, pressing her back against his chest, sighing as she rolls her shoulders. "Mmm, I think I'll like that very much."

Antoine kisses Sally on the cheek, rubbing her fur with gentleness. Soon, his hips rock again, his cock slipping deeper into her and pulling out as far as his knot will allow.

Sally tilts her head back, biting her lip, shuddering.

Antoine lets out approving grunts, feeling the length moving from underneath his fingertips.

"I shall give you all the pups you desire," he says, growling into her ear. "All of them shall be great leaders, I am sure."

"Mmmm..."

"They will also be the most beautiful children, as they have the most beautiful mother."

"Aah... the... the most... handsome... fah... father!"

"Oui," he chuckles, moving a hand up, stroking her cheek. "And I shall treat you as tenderly and lovingly as you wish."

"Mmm... w... what if... I don't...?"

"Then, I shall teach you as the horny bitch you wish to be, my princess." He says this, letting his hand rest around her throat. He holds her possessively but doesn't squeeze, reminding her how much in control he is in with his grasp. "As long that is okay with you."

"Hm... wh... what I want... aaant..." she moans. "Is your... your cock!"

"You have it."

"More!"

"You shall have it!"

He speeds up, thrusting into her with enough motion to shake the bed. He still holds her close, letting the sheets rub against their fur as the two lay upon the bed, staring out and facing the balcony beyond with the city and its nightlife, unaware of exactly the bonds being made here, but all so many aware that something momentous has happened this night.

"As, mm, I am, ahh, the coyote," Antoine begins, "I shall, ahh, lead you into the night." He groans.

Sally's pants and sighs get louder and louder, losing all focus on herself as she takes that cock again. Who knows how long she can keep up with this, but she knows that Antoine won't be able to go anywhere--not for a long time. But to spur him on, even as she gets closer and closer to this orgasm, she reaches over her head, grabs onto his hair, and throws her head back.

This time, the people of Mobotropolis hear another howl, a loud, high-pitched one with a feminine turn. Everyone pauses what they are doing for a few moments after her cry pierces the sky, and none of them know what it is they are hearing.

Meanwhile, the howl rages through Antoine's very being. He groans out, hilting against her, shooting up deep inside her womb again, plastering her with all the seed he can muster, and holding tightly onto her. "Mon... Dieu..." he growls, breathing deep of her fur at her shoulder. "How full... can you... get...?"

"As full..." Sally says, shuddering, groaning, "...as your cock can make me."

And so, throughout the night, Antoine does his best to fill Sally up as much as he can. Together, they thrust and fuck with a renewed passion for one another, discovering more about their bodies than they could have ever guessed. But all things must end, and soon, the two fall together, lying sprawled on eh bed, still connected by the coyote's knot.

That doesn't matter as they snuggle together, nuzzling against one another.

"Goodnight, my flower," Antoine says, kissing Sally. "I shall see you in the morning."

"You too, my mate," she coos, patting him on the side. "Hold me close, and don't ever let go."

And soon, as they find themselves drifting off, the two of them hold onto each other's arms, confident and ready to face the next day and every day after that, no longer afraid to face everyone else with the wonderful news of their bonding.