FSE

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As promised, here's chapter two!

Let me know what you think. The next chapter is going to be darker, and probably have less nice stuff in it :P

If you're underage, don't read this. Also, go read "Asleep" first if you haven't already, or else this won't make much sense.

My psychologist, Doctor Karo, would be my closest friend. If creatures like me were capable of having friends. Of all the furs in the world, he is the closest to understanding me, through all of his oblique questioning, sparkling intellectual debate, and insightful deduction.

He once called me a 'non-malignant sociopath.' What a term! A sociopath is, of course, someone who possesses a distinct lack of instinctive emotional connection to others, and often a lack of understanding towards the idea of consequences. Most famous sociopaths possess a pathological enjoyment of inflicting pain on others, often starting with small animals when they are young, and working their way up so to speak.

I, on the other paw, have always been cautious. I plan my actions, I love the game of avoiding consequence through clever foresight and stratagem. Even Doctor Karo doesn't know the truth. He suspects it, of course, but I would never be so foolish as to give him enough that he would be forced by ethics to approach the police.

In any case, he believes me to be a 'non-malignant sociopath,' an inherently selfish creature not possessed of the serial killer's instinct toward harming others. No Ted Bundy, I, hah!

Perhaps, despite all the furs I've hurt, even killed, the insightful and erudite doctor was closer to correct than I had believed when he had made that very amusing pronouncement. There, curled up in my lap, on the soft calfskin leather couch of my finely-decorated home, lay the little plague-bringer who had exposed me to that most horrifying of pestilences. FIV - Furry Immunodeficiency Virus - was printed in crisp black letters on a death-warrant medical report that now lay crinkled to garbage in his clasped paw.

Logically, I knew he had likely infected me. Something in me, what I consider my very reasonable side, told me to get rid of him. Either to drive him away with sudden rage and cruel, cutting, bilious words, or else to do what I'd done to his father. How interesting and poetic that would be!

Yet, nagging in the back of my mind, a strange sensation brewed and roiled. I felt my stomach clenching and filled with a strange acid feel, which sent my brow furrowing in confusion, a sudden break in character almost as alien as the feeling causing it. I wanted to hold him, to comfort him, some part of me yelling out to help the pretty cheetah boy, kiss his forehead and hold him until the crying stopped.

Some other part of me, a far more familiar old friend, demanded answers. It wanted to know, from the boy, how this had happened, so we could then begin planning how to 'remediate' the issue at paw. The issue, of course, of how to punish those who had damaged my property, my beautiful boy, the spotty lithe little dancing butterfly that now shook and sobbed in my embrace, terrified of a most horrifying lingering death and turning to the only fur he felt he could trust.

Could this be what Doctor Karo had referred to as 'love?' Surely not, given I'd never felt the sensation before. Not even towards my own family, all long gone now, had I ever noticed such a terrifying sense of attachment, perhaps even fear of loss. How, then, could a creature such as I, an admitted monster, a predator more so than even other wolves, develop a new emotion so late in life?

Then he turned his beautiful face toward me, hot salty tears trailing down his black-lined golden visage, reddening those gorgeous ocean-deep turquoise eyes, polluting them in a fashion I suddenly found unacceptably terrible, gut-squirmingly awful, like someone had taken Da Vinci's most beautiful portrait and thrown a pawful of monkey diarrhea onto that mysterious face. Burning anger billowed outward in my chest, at the injustice of it! Here, I had found someone whom I could actually care about! Someone whose company I enjoyed, and not just for the benefits it brought me, as I plundered his drugged-unconscious ass time after time! And now he was to be taken from me, by a cruel, lingering plague put upon him by some careless, careless fool!

He gave another sob, then, and my attentions were pulled from that whirlwind of thought, the anger suddenly banked like fire in a furnace, as he tried to speak once, failed with a clenched throat, then swallowed and tried again. This time, his tear-seared throat managed to croak out something that made my heart feel as if someone had struck it with a sledge.

"I...W-wanted t-to...I w-was going to...Ask you out. I th-think I might love you, and...And I went to get tested, just in case..."

Just in case. He went looking for diagnoses on STD's to protect me. Just in case. I was lost in his eyes, trapped and powerless, a sensation I normally would have killed him to avoid. Like my ancient four-legged ancestors, imprisonment went so strongly against instinct I would once have chewed off my own arm to escape it. Now, here, in his eyes, I felt the iron bars close around me, wrapped up in golden and black velveteen fur, and couldn't help but embrace them.

Our lips met in a kiss that startled us both, stiffening the already-shaking cheetah boy as his balled-up paws pressed against my chest, pulled tight against me by my arms around his back. He was soft, here, softer even than his silky fur, warm and wet and shivering in terror that tasted of vine-ripe strawberries and victory made somehow more tantalizing by the looming blackness of loss.

We stayed that way for a long, timeless age, as he slowly relaxed, the shakes disappearing, as we breathed heatedly against one another's muzzles, sharing air and lips and then tongues as mine parted his hesitant lips, slithering against his own, gifting him with my passionate desire for his body and mind.

Finally, he let out a shaking sigh, and whispered heatedly against my cheek, helpless and curled to his tiniest size over my turgid, tented lap.

"N-now I can't...I c-can't risk infecting you...I w-won't...W-wont..."

The shakes were coming back, and a wave of intolerable sensation rolled through my psyche, unwilling to let him sink back into that black misery again. So I kissed him, gently, despite his protective resistance, as he fought against the instinct to seek comfort, the desire for closeness in his hour of greatest lonely pain, fought against the oh-so-familiar erection that bulged his Capri shorts.

"Shh," I told him, as my paw migrated from his back, leaving its partner to hold him in place as it combed through his neck fur, and up the back of his head, holding him gently in place. We were trapped together, like magnets, bound to one another, two predatory animals who held the keys to one another's cage, separated only by the iron bars of his nervous inhibition and the more delicate enclosure of clothing.

"N-no I...I-I know it can't infect by k-kissing but what if I...Wh-what if my gums are bleeding and you get sick and and..."

More stiffening, more racking in his breath, the water works pumping their way through his body, looking for more tears to shed from his already-dehydrated and puffy eyes. I kissed his face, gentle, my tongue lapping and combing at the salty tracks in his fur, tasting the fear in his sweat and smelling the musk that had flowed from his cheek-glands. He wanted me, his late-teen hormones telling him to let me mate him, take him right here on the couch.

His emotions, the logic that guided them, the conscience that mixed with both, told him he couldn't. So frustrating, to finally have him be willing, and yet unable! Intolerable! I could see the conflict in his eyes, a tempest-storm of vulnerable innocent desire and fear, fear for me of all monsters!

"You're staying here tonight," I said, in firm, rumbling tone, meeting his dilated turquoise eyes with my staring yellow lupine orbs. "You're in no state to be alone."

He started to protest, I could see it. Not that he didn't want to stay - I knew he did, as he had before quite willingly, though always, to his knowledge at least, on the couch or in my guest room, and usually while 'drunk'. More that he was afraid of what he might accidentally do to me somehow.

Little did he know, the damage had likely already been done. I had fucked him dozens of times now, in the last few months, to the point that I had stopped looking for easier tail. I had, unwittingly until that moment, become monogamous with a fur who didn't even know we were screwing. Hah! What irony!

I continued, cutting off his response while he was still formulating it.

"We're going to have some dinner, I can feel your stomach rumbling. Then you'll tell me how this happened. Then we're going to watch a nice relaxing movie here on the couch. Then you're coming to bed with me. You just found out you're terminally ill, and I won't let you go through this alone...Even if you'll be a terrible cock-tease just by being there."

He nodded his head, softly, eyes wide as he accepted my commands, and even managed a halting smile at that last bit, with the most adorable blush. I wished, in my heart of hearts, that I could bottle that blush, so that I could see it whenever I wanted. Then again, if I played things right, perhaps I could. At least, until I got tired of him, which could happen at some point. Something in me didn't want that to happen, even dreaded it, confusing me yet again though I didn't allow it to show.

"I-I've got class in the morning..."

"With a diagnosis like this, I think your professors will understand."

Then his eyes shied away from mine, and he spoke in a way that perked my more focused sort of interest. A clue, I thought, to someone who was a danger to my property, my beautiful boy.

"M-my roommate will be mad...I-if I'm not home...D-dad's checks stopped showing up l-last month a-and I can't get in touch with him...M-missed rent and..."

I wasn't boggled by the fact he'd still been in touch with the old man that had abused him so as a child. He'd been beaten so badly, once, he'd ended up in a coma. A few weeks ago, I had taken a business trip out to his father's home city, hunted the rich old cur down, and done things that would make Hannibal Lecter laugh that sinister, rich, cultured chortle of his. Too bad the male was fictional. I would have loved to correspond with him.

I did feel a twinge of something, at the knowledge that my little act of revenge had impacted him. Perhaps a sense of failure, at having not predicted that outcome. I had assumed that my boy would inherit, without thinking that he was already being supported. Inheritance probate could take months or years to resolve, and in the meantime...

"Give me the address later. I'll go take care of it. You live here now, okay? Until you can get back on your feet."

He curled up again, this time pressing his face to my chest, and gave a very soft nod.

"Thank you f-for...For everything..."

"Tch," I chided, with a smile, tapping his forehead once with a flicking finger. "No need to thank me. You keep this old lonely queen company, and that's more than repayment enough."

"I...I always feel better after I come here. M-more relaxed and...And reasonable...For days, sometimes. S-someone understands me here."

More like he'd subconsciously associated my home with waking up feeling relieved and filled up with snuggly feel-good chemicals. Being fucked gently to multiple orgasms by a near-nymphomaniac wolf every night he came here would build such an unconscious connection rather swiftly. All to the plan, except for this one rather massive hitch.

An hour later, we had dined on a light meal of fresh greens and grilled chicken, eating in a sort of meditative silence as he seemed to digest what to tell me. My directives had been fairly clear, and he'd voiced no complaint about them. Knowing the boy as well as I did, he was thinking ahead, using his strong if naïve mind to order his thoughts toward fulfilling my request.

Somehow, I doubted he had thought back much before. The diagnostic paper had been very, very recent - a day ago, if my few seconds of scanning were any indication.

Finally, we moved to the couch, where he sat next to me, bashfully leaving a few inches between us. With a grin of amusement that I actually felt as well as displayed, I jerked and wrapped a powerful arm around his skinny dancer's body, and pulled the surprised, yelping cat into my lap. The tension broken, he looked up at me with a blushing laugh, his head resting on my left thigh, his back across my groin and over my right thigh, and his paws coiled together on his chest as if he weren't sure where to put them.

I couldn't resist. I kissed my palm, and lowered my paw to his face, as his tail lashed pleasantly against the couch with a repetitive arrhythmic thumping. He licked my fingers, with a hot, wet, willing but tentative tongue, tasting my kiss before my paw slid to his cheek, stroking it as a comfort. His eyes met mine, sparkling with emotion, then slid to my chest. Given he might be about to embarrass himself, I let him.

"S-so I...I'm not really sure where I got inf...God, infected, it feels like such a dirty term..."

I stroked his cheek, and shook my head.

"Nothing dirty about it. It's a virus, not a mortal sin. Keep talking, kitty boy."

He snickered for a second at the nickname, making a face like a kitten would give his mother, when she doted on him in front of friends. Then it faded, and his eyes shifted away again. Maybe it was easier for him to speak of all this, when he could pretend nobody was listening.

"I've had two blood transfusions in my life. Um...One because of that...Th-thing with my dad." 'That thing' being the savage beating. The cruel attack that had put him in the hospital for three weeks, and yet somehow failed to land his rich father in prison.

"The other one was after a car wreck, three years ago. I doubt that's where it came from though. Supposedly the blood supply is well-monitored, so..."

I made supportive noises, nodded my head, shifted my paw to his chin, stroking my fingers there at the spot I'd learned, in his drugged-out nights of unknowing debauchery, made him purr. It didn't disappoint, as he tilted his head back and squirmed slightly while his slender chest rumbled.

"There was this girl, about uh...rrr...Six or eight months ago. Sheryl. Um...Vixen girl. We dated for a few weeks, then she uh...Um..." He blushed so brightly, I thought he might start glowing like a lightbulb. Under my stroking fingers, his skin felt hot with the flush of blood His pretty eyes were downcast, and he was chewing his lip, sharp little fangs dimpling it.

"We sorta...I m-mean she wanted to have sex, and I d-didn't really, but...I mean I thought I was straight, until she had her skirt off and...Uh..."

He looked down, to where his Capri shorts were tented up, just from prolonged contact with a willing male. I chuckled, and let his purr-spot go finally, letting my paw settle on his waist, just inches from the burgeoning, slender, long and beautiful maleness I'd watched jolt out his creamy, sleep-babbling, gasping orgasms so many times now.

"You couldn't get it up for her?"

"Y-y..." He was too embarrassed now, curling his legs up a bit, as if he wanted to just disappear. I'd never known the awkwardness of being a closeted homosexual, or of 'discovering' my sexuality. To me, my love of cock, balls, and ass had been an assumed fact all my life. Then again, as a lovely sociopath like I am, I never felt any need to care if others would disapprove or treat me differently. More like I was curious what form it would take, and enjoyed testing it, pushing people to learn their reactions.

"I u-uh...Sh-she blindfolded me later and sucked me off...Told me it was okay, that virgin guys are like that sometimes, and...I believed her. We uh...We did it a few times...Before I found out she'd fucked half of the Phi brothers on campus."

In my head, she become spot number one on a list. I shook my head, giving a sympathetic smile, as a far twistier and more savage, atavistic pleasure hid itself in my mind.

"Sorry, that's rough...I know how that feels. Dated a frat guy once myself. Bad closet case, even though he'd loved getting plugged in the ass during his pledge days. We broke up after I caught him blowing the football team."

My boy snorted, crinkling his snout. Here we were, two commiserating males, talking of slutty exes. So very normal, or so I've been told. He was meeting my eyes again, though in that look-and-look-away fashion an uncertain person uses to attempt appearing confident.

"So um...She could be the source maybe...I should see if I can track her down and tell her, so she can get tested."

I nodded. That seemed responsible, and my response seemed the expected one. He continued.

"I...About two weeks before I met you, I was at a bar with some friends and these...These biker wolves came in and got really, really drunk. Uh...Oh god, does it make me tawdry that I punched a guy in a barfight? He had a big cut on his face, and I hit him right in it...Broke the skin on my knuckles open...Shit..."

"Did you file a police report?" I told myself I was asking because the information was needed, not because I cared. The best lies are the ones we tell ourselves, aren't they?

He shook his head.

"No, we just...We got outta there. The Phis I was there with just sort of ditched before the fight was even over. Fucking assholes had invited me there to apologize about Sheryl, and ditched me in a barfight with bikers."

They had just been added to the list. Maybe they had given this Sheryl FIV and maybe not. He could have caught the virus from that biker. Either way, the Phi boys would have more information for me, though getting it from them might take some work. I like 'work' in case you can't tell. The fun kind of 'work' that makes even the best normal-fur hobbies seem oh so drab.

Either way, they had abandoned my beautiful boy, my beloved cheetah lad with his bright eyes and fantastic mind, left him to be potentially killed by some waste-of-flesh gang of toughs.

"How did you get out of there?"

"I um...I crawled under a table and managed to catch up with them outside. Then they ditched me...Just got in their stupid red truck and drove off. I ended up walking five miles back to campus."

Asking him which bar he'd been at might have seemed suspicious, given the new-born plan growing in the womb of my mind. Not now, of course. Later, when he inevitably started hearing about things in the news I knew he liked to watch.

"So you might have gotten it from some biker you'll never see again, or from this Sheryl. You should call her, and set up to meet in person so you can show her the paper. Tell her she was your first, and that she should get herself checked."

"Oh god...Are you s...No you're right, it's what I have to do, like I said," he babbled, nervousness bubbling from his every pore. I drank in the smell of squeamish fear like a fine cologne, and couldn't help myself as my treacherous paw started stroking gentle circles on his barely-clothed belly, petting him through the thin t-shirt. He noticed, of course, and blushed, but didn't try to move my paw away. He wanted it, of course, but wasn't sure he should want it. Poor, silly, conlicted boy.

"Don't worry, I'll be there with you, if you want."

"N-no I...That would just be awkward for you and...Umf..."

His eyes widened a bit, as my paw stole downward, spider-walking over his crotch until I could give it a squeeze that had him sucking in a breath, staring at it, squirming his cute little feet. My off paw went to his chin, tilting it back until I could meet his shimmering, jittering eyes with my bright, calm, intense yellows.

"I'll be there. You can always count on me. Always."

He squirmed again, and touched my grasping wrist with his paw. There was no strength behind it, not effectively pushing at me, more like touching as if he couldn't decide on telling me to stop groping him or encouraging me to more. Thus, I didn't stop.

Based on tested experience and the dosage I'd put in his drink over dinner, we had about half an hour before he'd be mostly unconscious. Honestly, it was habit now. I couldn't fuck him tonight, not until I'd gotten myself tested - even with all the sex we'd had, a pitcher is less likely to get ill than a catcher, and I wasn't about to let myself get infected with a deadly virus just because I was horny and lacked caution.

His eyes, though, were full of fear. The awkward kind of fear, where someone knows their identity as a 'straight' person is being challenged. He'd already admitted to me, plied with wine and familiarity, that he had sexual feelings towards males. That he'd fantasized. In a blushing moment of utter embarrassment admitted to tasting his own semen once, which had been a lie to cover him doing it regularly, if I'm any judge of character.

My boy nodded softly, eyes locked to mine now, like a bird hypnotized by the eyes of a serpent, unable to look away despite the looming danger to his identity. My paw moved from his chin, and wrapped down around his back at the shoulders, lifting his slender frame so I could press lips to him again. Meanwhile, I hadn't stopped groping that bulge, feeling it thicken under his pants and my palm, warm and deliciously hard, likely already seeping with my boy's consistently amazing leakings.

"P-please I...D-don't want to lead you on...Th-..."

His words tickled my whiskers, so I just kissed him again, to shut the poor lost boy up. Then, and only after I had sucked away his words, devoured them with my tongue and teeth and lips, did I respond.

"Then don't. I can't get sick by pawing you off, silly kitty."

His blush was so powerful I thought he might faint. Or throw up. Instead, he just covered his face with both balled-up paws, like a kitten, so cute I wanted to gobble him up and keep him that way forever. With a soft laugh, I unsnapped his belt-less pants, and in a moment had my paw wrapped, for the first time, around his very-much-aware and naked, dripping and glistening and spiny cock.

Our movie went unwatched, as I slowly stroked him, luxuriating in the silky feel of his flesh under my paw. His pole, spiny under the tip, was gracefully thin, gently curved up towards his body, protruding out of a silky cream sheath bunched up at its base. It leaked, clear lubricant I wasn't about to waste, using my palm to gather it by swabbing over his sensitive tip every few corkscrewing strokes. If I'd had a third paw, I would have used it to cup and roll those firm, full balls of his the way I knew his body enjoyed, as if they were constantly aching and in desperate need of a massage.

His face meanwhile had found my stomach, and hid itself there, his eyes squeezed shut and one arm awkwardly trying to hug around my side. He seemed to want to reciprocate somehow, not knowing how much pleasure I was getting watching him squirm and suck in soft, puffing breaths of helpless pleasure, as my skillful fingers made him writhe and twitch and ball his toes up.

"I'm...I d-don't wanna mess your c..couch...I-I-shit..."

I ignored his well-meaning protests, intensifying the strokes until he gasped, throat ragged from all the sobbing earlier, and threw his head back into my muscular abs. His long, skinny cock exploded, firing lances of pearly cum into the air, splattering down willy-nilly on my nice black couch, on his cheap capris, on his crotch, my black-furred paw, on his creamy-colored chest fur.

Finally, he settled back, panting, giving me a dazed look that hovered on the verge of the half-conscious dream state my drugs would give him. I smiled down, knowing the last thing his mind would record were images of my predatorily protective face.

Thirty minutes later, we were in my bed, my tongue slobbering over his carefully-washed balls, as I pawed him again, letting his cum fire into the accursed condom I'd put on him, the insensate cheetah boy crying out in orgasmic bliss. I wanted to eat his asshole, so desperately I could feel it, but the risk of such direct contact with a mucous membrane would be too high. How frustrating!

So, I waited half an hour for his poor balls to calm down and resupply, and spent the rest of the night playing with his asshole, first with gloved fingers, then with my new favorite butt-plug, the trophy I took from his homophobe father's most secretive hiding place. This time, I didn't have to be careful about how sore his balls would be. I could always just explain that he'd gotten off several times under my pawing, and act impressed at how profligate he was even when drunk off too much wine.

Amazing how the smart ones can be so gullible.

In any case, I had to make up for the next day. I would be busy cleaning up the messy swarm of furs who had endangered my property, and likely have no time for him directly.

By the time he woke, I'd dressed up in my best 'work clothes,' and been gone for hours. I left a note on his chest, a folded-up piece of nice monogrammed company paper:

"You're going to stay in bed today and play my Xbox. It's under the bed. Lunch is in the fridge. I'm taking care of things with your room-mate, I hope you don't mind too much. Just take a day off and don't worry about anything. I should be home by nine p.m. Call me if you need an ear, okay? Know that you are loved and safe, no matter what happens."

This was more fun than I'd had in years. Though I'd be making a stop by my physician's office, to get tested. FIV was the last thing I needed.