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Chapter XVI - Tornado

The staccato reports of automatic fire behind them told Kiyosato that their attackers had been delayed in the lobby, at least a moment. He hoped they hadn't stopped just to kill the other hospital customers. Those bursts of weapon noise also told him that his ears were working again after the brutalization they suffered under flashbangs a minute or so ago.

He let go of his young assistant now that he was certain the wolf would follow and not do anything foolish, and sprinted for the stairs to the ICU.

Behind and to his left, Maasa yelled into his phone, evidently still mostly deafened.

"I cannot hear you, but be prepared for multiple enemies, heavily armed! If possible, move Sato to the roof and steal the chopper if you have to!"

As he opened the stairwell door, a startled-looking fox in black tactical armor hesitated just half a second before starting to raise his MP-5. Kiyosato lunged into him, shoving the submachine gun aside and bringing his combat knife up back-handed to spill scarlet blood down the creamy white of the vulpine's throat.

Gurgling, the hostile fur fell back, grabbing at his torn throat, forgetting about continuing to attack in the desperate attempt to save himself from drowning. Kiyosato grabbed the struggling fox by the Kevlar and yanked him forward, feeling the creature jerk as it was struck by fire from teammates further up the stairwell.

Kiyosato threw himself to the side, into the doorway at the bottom of the stairwell, letting the bullet-riddled fox go as he did, knowing full well he couldn't hold the creature up against that kind of fire. As he went, the silver wolf reached into his coat and drew out another prong-ended flash grenade, popping the pin and waiting for the bullets to stop flying. From the hallway, he could still hear his compatriot yelling into the phone.

"Second team on the stairwell! Shimatta!"

The silver wolf heard the mercenaries reloading, and whipped his arm around the corner, hurling the grenade straight up. Too heavy to reach all the way to the next stair bottom, it nonetheless detonated just where he'd intended, air-bursting in a blaze of light and sound.

Ears ringing again, the Black Dragon flew around the corner and up the first flight, ramming his combat knife through the neck of a balaclava-clad rodent, grabbing the MP-5 from its paws, and then unloaded it up the stairwell.

On the third floor, several furs had thrown themselves flat, and were now returning fire over the edges blind.

Kiyosato stolidly returned fire, just to keep their heads down, counting three shooters above him.

"Maasa! Get to the second floor, now! They are right behind us!"

Collin was roaring as he fired his P-90, high-pitched belches hurling dozens of rounds into the chaos on the ground floor, scything down patients and security response personnel alike.

Beyond them, he couldn't make out the two wolves, who he'd seen turn the corner towards the elevators moments before.

Behind him, the troops of Black Team moved up, taking cover against the security guards who were coming out of a back door firing their pistols, as the mercenaries walked fire through the milling crowd.

Possessed by the roaring joy of his battle lust, the lion laughed as security guards shot at him, their marksmanship off thanks to the milling civilians, leaving him mostly clear to shred them apart with his new favorite toy, sending them dancing to the ground as it stitched fire across their blue-clad bodies one at a time. The bullets passing through innocent bystanders didn't bother the lion in the least.

Seeing their maddened commander walking through the storm of bullets made one of the mercenaries pause, stare, and curse under his breath. Maybe taking the contract with these nutjobs wasn't a good idea.

Sato knew he was asleep again. A pleasant dream this time, though it was more a memory than any wild imagining.

He was standing at the brick and wrought iron bar of his father's beach house in Carmel, a beautiful town a few hours from San Francisco. Sato remembered this visit, as it was the first time he'd managed to coax his lion to come along for a weekend alone.

A full year of us playing around before he would go on vacation with me. How backwards, haha.

The silver wolf laughed suddenly, staring off into the sunset, wearing just ragged old jeans and an apron he'd just finished using to cook. From the kitchen, through an open window, Arlen called out.

"What's so funny, wolfy?"

Grinning, Sato looked over his shoulder. The black tiger was handsome, slightly ruffled from a day of housework they'd both agreed to do in exchange for the keys to the place. Arlen was wearing a red plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up to the middle of his forearms, over the most faded blue jeans the silver wolf had ever seen.

"You are, tigger."

The black tiger stuck his tongue out at Sato, before taking another slug from his beer.

"Told you to stop calling me that."

Sato laughed again and spread his arms wide.

"Come make me!"

Ten minutes later, sweaty from a playful spar in the yard, Arlen looked up in time to get a lick on the nose from the wolf who'd pinned him. Scrunching his nose and wriggling against the pin, he snorted.

"Fine, you win, I give."

Sato chuckled and licked him again, before dipping in for a gentle kiss, arms and chest flexing as he continued to hold down Arlen's arms, despite his lack of struggle.

When he came clear and the tiger could breath again, he chuckled with that feline rumble of his, and quirked an eyebrow.

"Your choice tonight I guess. Missionary bottoming for you again? You are such a power-bottom."

Sato tilted his head in consideration, then raised it to look around. The house was built at the top of a slope, surrounded by well-manicured grass, trees, and a cedar fence that made him scrunch his snout with remembering how much a pain in the ass its installation had been.

"Hey...Wolfie, head in the game?"

Sato tilted an ear to one side, and flicked the tip of his tail at the echo of his own words to Arlen, spoken so often when the tiger had still been new to martial arts beyond Army close quarters training. He looked back down, gazing into Arlen's softly shimmery feline eyes.

"Arlen, do you trust me?" His voice was soft, and it made Arlen raise both eyebrows curiously.

"Of...Course? I mean how could I not?"

Sato dipped in for another kiss, twining tongues with his handsome tiger, and let one of Arlen's paws free to slide his own down between them, giving the jean-clad package beneath him a squeeze.

The tiger sucked in a breath through his snout, panting into the kiss as he wriggled slightly, then let out a mock pout whine sound as Sato pulled back.

"Would you like to try bottoming?"

Arlen flinched, just slightly, and licked his lips nervously. Sato watched him, as the tiger fought out his response inwardly...Something he'd seen many times before, and come to know was the tiger battling his inner demons for something he wanted, or at least didn't want to just go with his gut reaction to.

"I...Sato, what gives? I thought you were all bottom."

The wolf shrugged his shoulders, nimbly unsnapping the button at the top of Arlen's jeans to slide his paw inside and wrap around the thick shaft there, albeit at an awkward angle.

"I prefer it, but sometimes I'm just in a mood for something different."

Arlen met the next kiss enthusiastically enough, but Sato could feel the awkwardness, the uncertainty there. He knew he would have to push for this, for a sign of dedication the tiger might not even understand or realize. Being willing to get past a major inhibition, on the tiger's part, was a sign of devotion at least Sato would see if not Arlen himself.

The silver wolf's paw released Arlen's shaft, tugging at the jeans lightly.

"Pants off, tigger, we're doing this right here."

Arlen's eyes widened, and he looked around...He'd never held Sato's paw in public, never been willing to acknowledge to other furs what they had together. He realized they couldn't be seen by anyone here, where the hill's slope met with an eight foot wooden fence, but it still made him hesitate.

Sato gave him a stern look, a quiet stare he knew would motivate the tiger, and sure enough Arlen was soon pushing off the ragged jeans, half-hard staff bobbing free as soon as the waist band passed it.

The wolf assisted, tugging the jeans off entirely and tossing them aside, then going up on his knees to undo his belt, tossing it to rest atop the discarded pants, shimmying out of his pants, and giving Arlen a half-smile again as he knelt there in just his boxers, making a rotating motion with his fingers.

"Turn around, kitten, paws and knees."

Arlen flushed, his round tiger ears going red inside, as he did as he was told, taking up the classic doggy-style receptive pose, while looking over his shoulder with trepidation and excitement in his eyes, warring for control.

Sato nabbed muscular hips with his paws, and leaned in, further down than Arlen was expecting, and got him to grunt in surprise as his tongue lashed across his tiger's pucker, swirling on it, spreading him with fingers that had moved to the muscles of his rear.

"Mmf."

The wolf's ears perked up at that sound of enjoyment, and he kept up slavering there, swirling his tongue until his saliva had coated the pink ring. Meanwhile, he reached up between the big tiger's legs, taking his low-hanging balls in paw to roll and gently squeeze them.

What felt like minutes passed, Arlen squirming at the odd feeling, until he jerked as Sato's finger slid inside him, hooking down to seek his prostate...Then to be joined by a second finger, making a scissoring motion to open him up. The tiger shifted on his knees, paws gripping into the loamy soil at the odd, uncomfortable, not entirely unpleasant sensation.

Rather suddenly, Arlen laughed, wriggling on the fingers inside him, and Sato popped his head up with a question mark written across his quirked brow.

Arlen was snickering into his arms, where his face had fallen.

"Nice trick...Get me uncertain, then start shouting orders. I fell for...Mmff...It."

Sato smirked at him, and leaned in to give a nip to his left cheek that had Arlen laughing again at what amounted to an admission.

"Do you want me to stop?" This as the wolf slid in a third finger, causing Arlen to shiver and wriggle his hips.

"Fuck no. Do it. I want to know what it feels like."

The tiger rocked forward a second or two later, as Sato lined himself up and pushed the tip of his pointed cock against the spot his fingers had just vacated. Silver-furred paws closed with deceptive strength on the tiger's hips, holding them in place as he shifted and applied pressure to pry the tiger open.

Arlen clenched his jaw, eyes shut tightly and forehead against his arms as he held as still as he could, footpaws clenching against the ground.

He let out a grunt as the pressure suddenly increased, then lessened, followed by a stinging full sensation as the wolf's slick cock slid inside, his tail flicking wildly to their left.

"Nnf fuck th...that stings..."

Sato nodded, petting the fur that was standing up on Arlen's lower back a moment before his paw moved up to start rolling the shirt off.

"Take the shirt off. I want to see you naked while we do this." His words were heated, commanding, and as usual crafty. When the tiger shifted, moving an arm to help get the shirt off, he waited until the tiger was distracted by the awkward motion to thrust in again, shoving a grunt of pain out of his lungs that shifted upwards in pitch into a yelp of pleasure as Sato's already-growing knot banged against the bundle of nerves in the tiger's prostate.

He jerked then, squirting a line of pre-cum into the grass, his head stuck in a shirt that was blinding him as his arms struggled to figure out where to be...Holding him up, getting the shirt off, or trying to reach for his own throbbing dick, he couldn't make up his mind as stars were bursting in his vision, and that steely pole was pulling back and slamming into him again, banging the wolf's balls into his own.

Sato looked down on the dream from above, remembering the sensations of it...The grass tickling his knees, the roughness of his shirt blowing in the soft wind as he plowed the bigger tiger...The amused satisfaction at the sounds he was making Arlen give up...And all too soon the sinking sensation he'd gotten when he realized he'd lost track of things and pushed forward against resistance he should have known better than to test.

"Agh shi-shit!"

Sato's knot had banged up against the tiger's battered ring, and in his lustful haze, he'd done what instinct dictated. The hard fleshy knot he'd pushed in felt to Arlen like someone had just jammed a baseball up his ass, and he shouted out in pain as his stretched ring fluttered, clenched, trying to expel the invader.

With a jerk, Sato came out of his daze, seeing he'd knotted the man he thought of as his boyfriend, and bit his lip hard enogh to draw blood in order to stave off his orgasm as the ring fluttered all over the sensitive bulb of flesh. He tried to make it good for the tiger who, to his amusement, was still trapped in his shirt, by reaching under him and nabbing the throbbing, bouncing shaft there.

All it took was a squeeze and a shift of his hips, squashing the tiger's prostate under his knot, for the clenching to begin all over again, though this time it was harder, more rhythmic, and Arlen's shouts were of surprised and intense release rather than sudden pain.

Sato's paw was abruptly covered in spunk, as was the ground beneath them, and as he felt the tiger go off, he leaned over and bit down on his shoulder, then started jerking his hips while filling the former anal virgin with watery wolf cum, huffing and barking into the mating bite as he did.

From far above, Sato chuckled to himself, shaking his head at the argument that would come later, while they were knotted together on the lawn for nearly half an hour. Arlen wasn't too happy about being knotted without warning, but had relented when Sato couldn't stop cumming every time he tried to pull off, get up, move...

It had ended with them asleep on that lawn, arms wrapped around each other, Sato's head on Arlen's chest...And a terrible pain in his leg, which with a jolt he realized had nothing to do with the dream.

He felt as if something had crawled out of the grass, some terrible gremlin, and was yanking on his leg in a way that made his knee scream in pain that could be characterized in colors and smells it was so intense.

"More morphine, he's waking up!"

"Fuck that, he can handle the pain, we have to get him out of here!"

Smoke billowed down the hallway of the ICU, and the sound of gunfire in the stairwell was clearly audible now that the power was down and all the beeping machines had fallen silent.

The doctor, trying to give Sato more painkillers, was abruptly grabbed by the arm as the silver wolf shot awake, dry eyes staring up at him. The doctor dropped the syringe and was released, though more because of a jerk on his knee that had the wolf squawking out in breathless, hoarse pain.

At the foot of the bed, Tamra was unhooking the traction, and even that tiny jarring had his leg burning in agony. Clenching his gut to try getting rid of the pain didn't help, as that burned with pain too.

Sato tried to yell out, to ask what was going on, but all that came from his throat were weak yells of agony. So, instead of asking, he grabbed feebly at a pistol that had been left on the bedside table, and turned it at the door, aiming right over Tamra's head. Her eyes went wide and she ducked, thinking the pain had driven the wolf to violence.

Two reports from the weapon and it nearly flew out of his weakened paw. The black-clad mercenary who'd charged past the two guards stationed outside was blown off his feet backwards as the two .45 rounds hit him in the face.

Gasping in pain and exertion, Sato managed to choke out words, finally.

"G-get...Out...You can't....Ngh! Carry me and r-run!"

Tamra popped back up, and yanked the last bit of restraint out of the way, yelling in Japanese over her shoulder for the guards to get their asses in here and grab Sato. Then she looked at him with eyes that burned in anger and...Shame? Guilt?

"Fuck you, Sato, no bullshit samurai heroics crap for you today!"

He stared at her a moment or two, as his mind fell into a momentarily placid place. Her face, rigid with anger, was so beautifully pure in its strength of conviction that he felt all trace of argument fade, to be replaced with another searing moment of agony as he awoke looking down at white linoleum floors and a pair of black shoes.

Then, burning pain from his leg shot through his body again, and he drifted away into unconsciousness as bullets buzzed around him like bees.