Horizontal Rain
A/N: This is the story I'mma tell at Story Circle when I die and go to Hell.
Also, I've been having a really frustrating time with the linebreaks, so if they screw up again I'mma be upset.
Disclaimer: This story contains nonconsentual, violent, passionate, hot-and-sexy sex between two males, as well as mild bondange and graphic sado-masochism. If this makes you less than enthusiastic, or you're under legal age-of-consent, then you'll want to not read this, actually.
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It was too fucking cold outside. The sort of bitter, almost-winter autumn evening where the streets are empty and the bars, houses and apartment buildings are full, and the few people in limbo between any two of the three pull their coats close to their bodies and hustle. The only ones who were sticking around outside were those who didn't have a choice in the matter- and if there's one thing in the world a cat hates, it's a situation without choices.
Eating is good, but needing to eat is never enjoyable. A closed door is a thing of eternal frustration. Even one's most comfortable bed is hell if it's in a cage, and being stuck outside while that bed is locked in is just as upsetting as the other way around. Add the elements of cold and damp to the equation and you've got an melancholy housecat on your hands.
The flicker of flame that licked out of the lighter didn't really do much to help with the cold or the dampness, even when it almost burned the tip of Klinefelter's thumb as his grip slightly slipped around the plastic. He was trembling as he leaned in, his last cigarrette clenched between his left incisors, and touched the tip of the good ol' cancer stick to the flame. It was wet but not quite raining: the world was caught up in some fine mist that didn't really seem to fall or move, just hover in the cool air, and the damp tip of the cigarrette had to linger at the lighter's mouth before it caught.
When that nicotine rush finally re-entered his system, though, Klinefelter sighed and leaned back against the cool brick of the gift shop he'd chosen to loiter in front of tonight. He slipped his lighter into his back pocket and pulled the cigarrette out of his mouth, breathing out the bitter smoke and breathing in a lungful of cool, fresh air. "It's a beautiful night to be evicted," he sarcastically informed no one in particular, tail lashing back and forth. It was getting late, too, and he had no where to sleep but right out here on the street. Before it started getting really cold, and the rainy mist turned to snow and sleet and slush, he'd have to change that. Most of the scruffy hobo-types he'd met in his four days on the street had somewhere to sleep- an old basement no one went to, a comfy wooden box in an alley somewhere, a storage garage which the owners forgot to lock. And most of them had no intentions of sharing them- or were too eager to share them. Klinefelter frowned and took another drag from his cigarrette. He wasn't a feminine feline (at least, he didn't think so) but he was mistaken for a girl often enough because of his calico coloration- most people thought only females could wear it. He didn't need some dirty, half-witted old man driven mad years ago by the bags of cocaine he'd licked clean, trying to plow a pussy that wasn't there, just for a dry place to sleep.
With a sigh, Klinefelter put the cigarrette out against the damp bricks and slipped what remained into his pocket. When his first lost his job and the new one wasn't coming as quick as he'd like, and his landlord started sending those lovely eviction notices, he'd promised himself he wouldn't be the poor guy that has to make one cigarrette last for days. He'd promised himself a lot of things, then. In the time that passed he found that once you lie to yourself a given number of times, it's very hard to trust anything you say to yourself again.
He was so far gone into his self-pitying thoughts it took him a second to notice the car that had stalled in front of the gift shop. That wasn't usual at all; it was really a very nice car, the sort of thing that usually caught his eye real quick. He didn't recognise the particular model; some sort of Mercedes-Benz. Even in the dim, dull light, the hubcaps glittered like brand-new dimes. The windows were tinted; it was the sort of ritzy car that rich people rode in, reclined in the backseat, while hired drivers sped around town. He couldn't see who was in the back, though he peered hard at the black windows, but the driver had left the shotgun window open. A gangly-looking jackal, middle-aged, sat behind the wheel, talking animatedly to whoever was in back. He took off his dirty driver's cap and turned a little, the yellowed light from a street lamp glittering off the wet curve of his eye as he gazed over at Klinefelter. The calico, a little alarmed to be noticed, glanced down the street- it was empty, he could make a quick getaway if needed- and when he turned back, the jackal was talking to his charge again. He laughed, then rolled up the window that seperated the front and the back halves of the vehicle, then closed the shade, presumably to give the rider privacy.
The car's back door opened. Klinefelter bit his tongue, and shifted a little to his left. It wasn't safe to be out on the street at a time like this. He was ready to run- but he hesitated, still. Not so much because he was curious about whoever was slowly emerging from the ritzy car, but more because he'd been wandering all day, and he was tired, and he couldn't think of a single place to go once he got moving again. He'd thought to stop here for the rest of the night, and he was worn out enough that a Plan B wasn't coming to him.
The man who got out of the car wasn't quite who Klinefelter had expected. He'd thought some rich jaguar in an expensive coat, or a buxom vixen wearing mink scarves- not the fit business man who unfolded himself from the seat. He was an alligator, with a thick, scaly maw and lines of teeth that poked and prodded from between his lips, and rows of tough scales that were mostly a medium brown color like coffee-with-cream, mottled with darker brown and forest green. His suit was pressed so severely the wrinkles looked sharp enough to cut. His eyes were a sort of bronze in the dim orange light, and, signature of his specie, they didn't glitter or shine, but lay flatly in his skull. He looked over and grinned his omnipresent alligator grin to Klinefelter, his gaze regarding the homeless feline like so much meat getting dirty on the ground.
For one heart-stopping second, concocting a Plan B wasn't so important as ditching Plan A, and he didn't care where he wound up as long as he got away from here- and then that cold glare slipped over him and the alligator walked into the gift shop, the bells on the door ringing cheerfully, and that heavy tail sliding through the threshold and vanishing into the brightly-lit building.
Klinefelter sighed, then smirked at himself. What, you thought he got out of his car in weather like this just to mess with you? Exactly what Klinefelter had been worried about, he wasn't quite so sure of, when he thought back on it. There was just something very creepy about the way reptiles can glare.
After a minute, the jackal driver got out of his seat, then walked around and opened the door to the backseat, standing a little bit to the side so he could let his charge in. Klinefelter figured the alligator was coming out, soon, and shifted his weight from one paw to the other. He wasn't really nervous, or so he told himself, and tried to get his tail to stop twitching so anxiously. I wonder what he does, to make so much money? He thought to himself, idly scratching one ear. It kind of bothered him, seeing all these rich people doing nothing, while he scrounged. The bells on the door jingled again and Klinefelter saw the alligator's great form in the corner of his eye. He really was a very large man; easily a foot and a half taller than Klinefelter himself, and much, much broader. Probably market consulting or something obscure like that.
And then, before he could think another thought, large hands had shoved him back against the wall, one on his left shoulder, the other on his throat. He tried to draw in a breath to scream but the fingers tightened and all he could manage was a wheezing wail, barely audible to himself or his attacker. The alligator business man grinned his ever-present alligator grin down at the helpless cat, and Klinefelter's blood beat through his body audibly, his heart hammering, his mind racing too fast for him to register fear. He couldn't breathe.
"Hello," the alligator purred, his baritone voice as smooth as silk; then he wrapped one thick arm around Klinefelter's waist, picked him up easily, and walked him over to his car like carrying a kitten. Klinefelter didn't know what he was doing, and was only vaguely aware of being abducted; he couldn't breathe. His hands clawed at the alligator's arms, but to no avail; the larger male manhandled him to the car's open door, half-dropped, half-tossed the feline onto the seat- it was soft leather, he realized through his panic and his pain, soft soft leather, like butter against his fur- then climbed in, and let the jackal driver close the door.
Klinefelter pawed helpessly at his throat, which still throbbed in distant ache, and fumbled for the door handle with his other hand. If he'd been thinking clearly, he would've known better than to even try, and even in his panicking haze he wasn't shocked when it was locked. He and the alligator were in close quarters; the car was much wider than it looked from the outside but even so, he was pressed against the far side, and the businessman loomed over him, his knees pressing against the calico's inner thighs. Klinefelter's personal space was in tatters, but more important at the moment was his need to get away. The dull glitter in the alligator's cold glare and that intimidating grin were absolutely terrifying.
The larger furre's giant maw split open and his flat tongue lolled out; he leaned forward and braced both palms on either side of Klinefelter's head, planted against the car window. "Speechless, kitten?" he purred, his voice as devoid of warmth and spark as his eyes. The calico shuddered, and the reptile looked pleased to have frightened him more. He leaned in until the tip of his long, broad snout pushed against Klinefelter's soft, pink nose, which wrinkled at the contact as the calico pushed himself flush against the side of the car, fighting to sink into the solid surface, anything to get away. "Why don't you tell me your name?"
There was something so casually powerful about the command that Klinefelter felt compelled to obey without thinking. He tried, but the first attempt came out as a rasping moan. It felt like his windpipe had been shoved to the back of his throat, and he had to swallow a couple times before he could rasp out, "K- k- Klinefelter."
The alligator seemed to consider it, one eyeridge slightly raised, then shrugged. "I'll just call you kitten," he decided, the smooth edges to his words washing over the petrified calico, who wanted to protest but once more failed to find his voice. The reptile's face kept inching even closer, until that powerful maw was inches from Klinefelter's ear, and that perfect voice whispered, "My name is Jhadra, and I'm going to rape your ass."
It shouldn't have come as a surprise, but Klinefelter had been so caught up in trying to get away that the reason he'd been abducted hadn't even occurred to him. A jolt traveled through him, as well as a horrible surge of fear, panic, anger, fear- he did not want to be here, he did not want to die- but, foremost, he was not going to be another man's bitch, and that sudden determination carried him from panic to desperation. He immediately lashed towards his captor, claws out, and slashed at Jhadra's exposed throat, then let out a pained squeak as the alligator's tough scales bent his claws back in their slits. That horrible grin widened.
"We can't have that." The alligator lifted his hands off the window, and grabbed the calico's face with one, shoving his head back against the window and keeping him effectively pinned. Both Klinefelter's hands wrapped around that one thick wrist, but no matter how hard he twisted it wouldn't budge. Both his hindpaws pressed against Jhadra's stomach, trying to push him backwards, but the alligator didn't even grunt, only calmly removed his belt with his free hand, released his grip on Klinefelter's face, snatched up one of the housecat's arms, twisted him around so his chest pressed against the tinted window and tied his wrists behind his back with the thick leather faster than the calico could think. When he was released, Klinefelter slowly untwisted, resting his back against the window, panting and shaking and terrified and disgusted, and Jhadra wasn't even breathing hard- just sitting and grinning.
"Good, good," the alligator purred, and Klinefelter shivered, seeing the reptile's loosened pants tenting around the crotch as he surveyed his helpless prey. The fact that his soon-to-be bedpartner was male- very, very male- rushed through his bloodstream as his heart pounded hard enough that the rhythm filled his ears. Rough hands pried the calico's legs apart, Klinefelter's resistance easily overcome by Jhadra's determination, and the alligator slid between those thighs, shifting forward so their crotches pressed together, the hard heat seeping through the cloth of their pants and the stiff length grinding against Klinefelter's slowly swelling sheath. Jhadra leaned forward, his snout once more against the soft, whispy fur inside Klinefelter's ear, and whispered, "You can try and fight it, but you're my bitch for the night. I can do whatever I want with you."
It was true, and Klinefelter couldn't deny it. The sudden, heavy knowlege of it (in addition, of course, to the incredible- incredibly wrong- feeling of the alligator's clothed, thick length slowly grinding back and forth over and into his groin) made a tight knot in his stomach; he could feel his sheath burning with heat and swelling up, and as he felt the tip of his cock slide out. It was wickedly embarrassing; he writhed in place and wished, illogically, that he could rip one hand free and push it back in his sheath. He didn't want this, he didn't want this at all, but he couldn't stop his body from responding. His face burned hot pink under his fur.
Jhadra, of course, noticed and smirked, then suddenly stopped grinding against the feline, his hands clamping, vice-like, over Klinefelter's hips to keep the calico from thrusting into him. The cat choked on the whimper that he tried to muffle and squirmed in place, hips bucking subconciously, his pointed teeth gritting as he tried to control his physical reactions.
For a second, they stared at each other; the housecat clamping his teeth over pathetic whimpers and the alligator just grinning, and then Jhadra pulled one hand back and smacked him across the face.
Klinefelter hadn't been expecting it and the alligator's heavy, hard-plated hand snapped his head sideways and made him see stars. He tasted blood and realized he had bit his tongue; he gulped, closed his eyes tightly, then slowly opened them. His vision was a little bleary but it cleared quickly, and he groaned as the first thing he saw was Jhadra carefully sliding his perfectly- pressed pants off his hips. His black, smooth penis looked huge, but Klinefelter had to figure his perspective made for a large part of that; it bulged out of his genital slit and curved up to the tapered tip. The calico's own dick gave its opinion of the whole thing in one aching throb.
"Don't play with me, kitten." With those words and no further warning, Jhadra lashed out and grabbed a fistful of his neck fur, tugging the feline's face towards his crotch. With his arms tied behind his back, Klinefelter overbalanced and tipped forward, his chest hitting the soft, plush leather seat and his nose pressing against the fleshy fold of skin around the reptile's genital slit. He gasped and got a lungful of the alligator's smokey musk. "This isn't about making you feel good. Be a good bitch for me and I'll let you go in one piece."
The calico drew in a shuddering breath and nodded, eyes closed tightly. He couldn't see another way out.
Jhadra's strong fingers closed around the skin at the nape of Klinefelter's neck and pulled him up, holding him suspended by the painfully tight fistful of fur until he whimpered and squirmed. Then he folded both hands around the cat's skull, pulled him until his muzzle was pressed against the tip of the alligator's cock, and said, "Suck it, slut."
He should have refused, but Jhadra's grip was like having his head caught in a garbage compacter. Tentatively, his mouth opened and he lapped a little at the tip; Jhadra took advantage of the situation to thrust halfway into Klinefelter's mouth, sudden and fluid and sharp. The tapered tip of his dick slid into the cat's throat, and the reptile groaned, long and slow, in pleasure as the calico gasped through his nose and worked his throat around the tip. Like all felines, Klinefelter lacked a gag reflex, and soon Jhadra was relentlessly humping his throat, burying the tip of his dick almost down to the calico's windpipe. "If you bite it," he warned, once, "I will choke you with it." It felt like a very real threat while it pummelled at Klinefelter's tonsils and it was all the warning the feline needed.
It seemed to last for hours, the alligator relentlessly violating his captive's throat, thick strands of pre smearing inside Klinefelter's mouth, and throat, and around his muzzle. "That's good.... good slut. Take it all in, savor it, good, good..." The pale cream was bitter and seemed to have more substance than flavor, which the calico found to be distinctly unpleasant, and the rough riding was bruising the soft flesh in the back of his throat. Mercilessly using him. Jhadra's voice was rough, gravely, just short of frenzied. "Good kitten. Swallow it down."
Then, finally, the reptile thrust too deep and the housecat choked, his throat closing. He struggled to pull back, whimpering and coughing, and, with a tremor of mercy, the slickened phallus finally drew out of his mouth with a regretful groan from the larger fur. "Good enough," the larger man intoned, panting slightly, sounding only a little disappointed that his forceful blowjob had ended so soon. Klinefelter, trying to rework his throat into proper alignment, glanced up to see Jhadra's thick fingers playing slowly over his own wood, while those cold eyes traveled over his face- the red mark the reptile left when he'd struck him, and the streaks of pre that marred his fur and leaked out of the corner of his muzzle. "I wouldn't want to come before we got to the fun part, anyway."
A cold shudder traveled through Klinefelter's body at the mention of the 'fun part' and, even though he knew it wouldn't do any good, a quiet, moaning, still hoarse "No," escaped him before he could stop himself.
The alligator, of course, heard the protest and jumped onto it immediately. "Don't," Jhadra purred, grinning coldly, "tell me what I can or cannot do with you, kitten." He lashed out and grabbed once more for Klinefelter's throat; squeezing it until the calico couldn't take in another breath, he shoved him backwards so his head cracked against the window. "You're mine, little bitch, and you'll do what I tell you to do. Understand?"
The only verbal response Klinefelter could muster was a tiny squeak; he couldn't get in enough air to actually reply. His vision started clouding a little at the edges, and to his shock his hard-on, which had ebbed during the forced felatio, raged to life again as the full measure of his helplessness registered. Jhadra definitely noticed and through his haze of confusion and panic Klinefelter felt a rising heat of humiliation- but it was nowhere near powerful enough to overcome his need for oxygen. Desperately, he managed to move his head up and down in some semblance of a nod, and the alligator's grip released just as explosions of color started to overtake his vision.
"Good boy." Jhadra grabbed his shoulders and flipped him over onto his stomach; hard hands and thick fingers ripped his pants open and tugged them down his hips. The calico didn't conciously decide to tuck his tail between his legs, but he must have done so anyway because the alligator wrapped his fingers around the appendage and pulled it up, exposing the cat's most intimate parts. He blushed hotly, ashamed and terrified of what was coming, and squirmed, uncomfortable, whimpering.
"I don't like lubricant," Jhadra was purring, running his hardened claws over the round globes of the feline's ass. He gripped Klinefelter's hips and hoisted him up, so he was kneeling on his knees and bent over with his chest against the plush seat, his snout buried against the smooth leather. "I feel like it takes something away from the whole mileau of the thing. You're alright with that, aren't you, kitten?" The question was casual, almost friendly, but it was spoken with such dangerous threat behind it that Klinefelter could do nothing but whimper and nod, smushing his nose into the soft seat, ears pinned back against his head. Every inch of contact the alligator had with him set his skin on fire- the way his rough fingers kneaded his ass, pulled a little at his balls, traced down his exposed shaft, the thick scales scratching at the sensitive skin. The mix of pain and pleasure, terror and anticipation, disgust and humilation and desperation made every touch, every breath, every heartbeat more intense.
He felt the stiff tip of the alligator's penis touch against his entrance, and hesitate there, then rub against it, smearing pre around the soft, sensitive skin. Klinefelter whimpered; this was humilating, but the worst of it was the horrible, drawn-out dread of what was to come. Jhadra grunted and ground his length against the calico's backside, still just shy of penetrating, his fingers digging into Klinefelter's hips. "Beg for it, kitten," he purred, snapping his jaw at the air with a series of sharp cracks. "Tell me how much you want it."
For a second, he didn't think he could do it- didn't think he could force those words out of his mouth. The presense at his entrance had him throbbing, the sensation at that never-touched area was intoxicating in a taboo sort of way- but he knew it would hurt, knew it would be humiliating and relentless and painful, and even though a small part of him was longing for something, anything, that would feel good, that would be anything but teasing- he couldn't actually beg for something this demeaning. Then Jhadra leaned over his bent back and sharp teeth lodged into the loose skin on his hackles.
Klinefelter yelped and clutched at the leather seat. He tried to writhe but that made it hurt more, so he shut his eyes tightly and shouted, "Take me, please!" The larger furre ground into him, forceful, demanding. "I want you.... I want you inside of me, take me, rape me," stop hurting me"I want you, I want it, p- please, God damn...."
To his immense relief, the alligator released his death-hold on the feline's shoulder, but just when he thought he was in the clear he shoved their hips flush again, and reached out with one hand to grab Klinefelter by the fur on the top of his head. He wrenched the calico's head back, clutching cruely at his pelt. "What is it you want?" he purred, his baritone voice deathly-smooth. "Tell me exactly what you want me to do with you."
Klinefelter let out one long whimper, fingers clutching at the soft leather, then whimpered, "I want..." I want you to let me out, I want you to leave me alone, please, oh God, please.... "I want you..." he gasped in air, spat the words out like mouthfuls of cold coffee, "I want you to fuck me, I want you inside me, I want you to... to make me your's. To use me like your bitch."
Jhadra loosened his grip on the calico's head and let him slump forward with a degraded sigh. Both hands groped at the smaller male's hips, his maw widening into a cruel smile. "I can do that," he growled, and slid halfway into the smaller man in one fluid thrust.
The housecat hadn't felt anything quite like that before. A sharp pain traveled up his spine as his skin was stretched wide to accomodate the alligator's slick black dick, and he let a heavy, shaking moan escape his throat, fingers clenching around the leather.
It was definitely a pained sound, but Jhadra apparently decided otherwise; his long, broad tongue trailed over the calico's soft ears in a mockery of affection. "You like that, don't you, bitch?" he asked, his tone dangerously soft. He groaned himself, in unmasked pleasure, as he shoved his cock the rest of the way inside the feline's hot, tight opening. Klinefelter writhed under him. "Regular slut for it, aren't you?" He pulled out, fast, almost all the way, and the calico whimpered under him. Klinefelter had expected it would feel better once he was pulling out rather than pushing in, but the friction was rubbing his sensitive skin raw. "This is what happens," and he rammed back into him, "to slutty boys," and jerked out; Klinefelter shrieked, "on streetcorners."
All this time, Klinefelter's own pink cock was raging, fire-hot and hard as a board, rubbing back and forth against the leather seat as he was mated. The pain was washing over his nerves like lightning, and making even the slight pleasure from that tiny bit of friction frightingly intense. He gritted his teeth and choked on a moan.
Then one of the alligator's powerful thrusts hit a spot deep inside him and his claws dug deep into that expensive leather. His toes flexed, and he screamed- it hurt intensely for a quarter second then blossomed into fiery pleasure. Jhadra laughed, deep in his reptilian throat, and kept ramming himself deep into his new toy, and Klinefelter, caught hostage between explosions of agony and extasy, conflicting sensations that sharpened each other to unbearable poignancy, buried his snout in the plush seat and let his head be shoved against the hard plastic side door with each thrust of the reptile's hips. Completely submissive, like a rag-doll, beaten limp. The feelings washed over him, making him moan, making him scream, making him beg until he didn't know what he was begging for. The dual sensations built up to a climax he didn't even try to fight. Every muscle in his body screamed, every nerve burned, but he couldn't even bear to lift his head as he came, thick and hot and heavy, on that perfect, untouched leather seat.
And after that, the pain of his breeding by far outweighed the pleasure. In addition to being stretched out and rubbed red by the alligator's penis, his softening, used member rubbing against the leather now almost burned with over-stimulation, and that spot inside him that felt so good before now felt much more painful when the reptile rubbed against him. In, and out, and in, and out; he was violated, intimately and completely. It seemed to take forever for Jhadra to come.
When his thrusts finally sped up and his hard-scaled hips smashed into Klinefelter's ass and thighs, hard enough to bruise, the calico tensed up and waited for the inevitable. With a growl so long and loud it was almost a roar, the alligator came, his seed thick and hot and heavy, planted deep inside the other male.
And when he pulled out, Klinefelter felt like he was removing some sort of vital, innermost component of his person; he collapsed. The alligator's come ran, hot and sticky, down the inside of his thigh, but he ignored the sick sensation, just focusing on his own shaky breathing. His throat hurt, his ass burned, his back throbbed.
"We're almost there," Jhadra said, almost conversationally, his wonderful deep voice shaken slightly by a slight exertion. Klinefelter couldn't fathom how he sounded like he felt like he might never be able to sit upright again, but the alligator- who had, after all, been doing all the work- sounded like he'd just done nothing more difficult than a brisk walk.
It took a second for what the reptile had said to process. "We're moving?" he asked, struggling to prop himself up enough to peer out the window. Indeed, the streetlights in the distance crept up towards the window, reached out with orange spears of light to caress the glass and passed by in a blur. The limo had seamlessly smooth acceleration; the calico hadn't even noticed when it had started up or slowed down. He didn't recognize the places they were driving by- delopdated houses, sleazy-looking 24-hour movie rentals, the occassional fast-food restuarant. He looked up at the alligator, who had pulled a package of Kleenex from his suit pocket and was wiping off his genital slit. Those cold, cold eyes once more fell on the feline, who trembled. "Where are you taking me?"
With a cold, dead-eyed grin, the alligator declined to respond.