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A Subtle Symbiosis (M/M)
🕑 Added 2018-01-16 12:59:54 +0000 UTC [A wolf and raven make for an odd couple: they live together, they go to bars together, they ruin each other's fun together...The first of a probable series featuring the first bird character I've ever written! Caw! Caw!]
---
Brutus Schenke posed in front of his wardrobe mirror, which was positioned on the other side of the room from his full-length closet door mirror. The result: an endless stream of wolves in leather heading off into infinity. “What do you think?” He wore a leather motorcycle jacket with no sleeves, fingerless gloves, a bulldog-style chest harness, leather pants, and black Alpinestars Hi-Point motocross boots (unique for the metal plates covering the shins). “Steven?”
“Mmm-hmm,” the raven said, ignoring Brutus and scouring through his evening hits on his kink hookup app. Only two were appealing, and they weren’t going out to the club he was about to visit.
“How about a compliment, huh?” Brutus ruffed his chest out.
Steven finally looked, and quickly flipped his beak between front and rear mirrors, watching himself move in the repeating images. “Oh great, there are more of your preening ass now. Your ass extends to wolfinity,” he said, approaching from behind Brutus. “You look goofy for tonight. It’s the jacket and harness. This isn’t leather night, it’s just gay night. More gay, less motorcycle daddy.”
The wolf snorted. “You’re threatened.”
“Hmm. No, you’re threatening. Try… No jacket, leather polo shirt, side-lace leather pants, and your cowboy boots.”
“I really like these fucking hi-points,” Brutus growled, but turned away from his reflections. He dug through his gear and selected what his corvid friend had mentioned, then started to change.
Steven had long since dressed. Like Brutus, he wore black leather, but his was much more fashionable instead of fetishistic: A long leather trench-coat, a red dress shirt, an ankh necklace, black fitted slacks, and over-calf Demonia buckle boots that made the slacks puff up just slightly at the top cuffs. “Industrial night, yes. Leather night, yes. Gay night, not with your build. Show off your ass if you want some, even if you’re on top. Wear a tight shirt that hints at your pecs but doesn’t just squeeze them out between straps like a naked man in one of those strappy chaise lounges.”
Brutus squeezed into his leather pants, muscles straining the hide between the lacings. The leather squeezed his rump into a peach, and the wolf-cut fly made a glistening rocketship out of his sheath and balls. “I don’t get it. You can go out dressed like you hate your mom for not takin’ you to the mall, but if I show off you get all bitchy about it.”
“Everyone attractive at the club tonight is going to have bubble butts in bike shorts. That means you put on pretty leathers that make you look like a sexy rock musician. When you go on leather night, you can dress up in your tough-ass leather-daddy sled-dog uniform,” Steven made a clucking noise with his beak.
“I dunno what’s the big difference,” Brutus growled. The wolf stepped back into the infinity wolf chamber. “Now I just look really fucking gay.”
“You are dressing up to go to a club to get impressionable young men drunk and then fuck them,” Steven said, deadpan.
“Yeah, but this is prancey gay. This is bodice ripper novel cover gay. Those guys are always gay, right? Straight guys never look like that…” He paced back and forth with the clip-clop of cowboy boots. “I guess it’s hot. I mean, I’m pretty fucking big, I could wear a pink tank top and still look like I wreck shit,” Brutus flexed again. “You know me, I’m not fancy.”
Steven clunked in his throat and put his hands at his hips. “You have an erection. Of course it’s hot. It’s fantastic. You look amazing. Eleven out of ten, such a good leather-wolf. Now hurry up or we’re going to miss happy hour half-offs.”
—
Gay night at the club meant mostly men, and a solid contingent of those were pretty-boy clone bodies. Brutus and Steven went straight for the main bar and put their rainbow wristbands to use. Brutus got a double whiskey half off, and Steven got a drink named Fool’s Absinthe.
“So, how is it?” Brutus nudged his drink against the raven’s glass in an impromptu toast.
Steven leaned his head down and strawed the corner of his beak. “If I didn’t know what absinthe actually tasted like, I would think this was pretty good.”
Brutus scanned the front lounge area, then the dance floor. They were far too early for there to be much of a crowd, and what crowd there was consisted of a solid mix of potential patrons thanks to the free cover before ten o’clock and the half-off drinks until eleven. Zaftig and bombshell college girls, dorks, jocks who would take any half-off drink they could get their hands on, and then The Gays.
“Nothing good up here. Let’s go downstairs.” He turned and left, secretly hoping that Steven wouldn’t notice his departure.
The raven definitely noticed and ended up beating him down to the basement bar. He ordered a zombie for his second drink, and sampled it with the same side-tilt. “Much better. It’s just alcohol. I think this was merely set down next to a can of pineapple juice.” Unlike the faux absinthe first drink, he did not consume it quickly.
Brutus got a second double whiskey. “Do you ever shut up?”
“Never,” Steven tilted his beak up, and then emitted a noise that sounded exactly like a doorknob falling onto a wood floor and then rolling several feet.
“You’re never going to get fucked making weird bird noises like that.”
“You’re never going to get fucked standing at the bar. In there-” Steven pointed a be-ringed finger into the basement video room, “-you can grope anyone you want and no one cares because it’s too loud and cramped.”
“My dick’s itchy for ass, not Whitney Houston and Journey mashups.” Brutus cracked his knuckles, then pulled a pair of thin leather gloves out of his back pocket and slid them onto his hands. “I’m gonna go check upstairs again,” he huffed, then took off. Steven followed, having to rush to keep up with the determined wolf. The raven paused at the door to the patio, then looked after Brutus; the wolf kept on.
Steven pushed out through the doors under the bored eye of a bouncer. The hour was early and it was flurrying; pipe heaters toasted anyone who stood near the lounge benches. Steven took the space from zero to one and stood over by one of the heater pipes, then ruffled his exposed feathers to fluff them up for the cold.
A young buck wandered into the patio and headed straight for the smoking area, a room with an open doorway off to one side of the patio. An empty bar stood near the emergency exit, abandoned until spring weather. No one else came in. After a few silent moments, Steven felt both mounting energy from the irritation of Brutus storming off all alone, and the panging need for nicotine. He walked into the smoking room and found the young deer sitting alone.
“Oh, no one smokes these days,” Steven said, and pulled out a pen-shaped object from inside his coat and wiggled it. He pressed something on it and it lit up with a circulating LED ring behind a plastic mouthpiece.
The deer was the only one in the smoking room. He was dressed in a fine gray stretch mesh shirt, PVC pants, and fancy leather athletic shoes. He patted his pants down and scowled. “Oh my god, I get here early, I forgot my fucking vape-”
Jackpot, Steven thought, and wiggled his pen, now happily pulsating green. “Ta-da.”
The deer stared. “Wow, you’re a bird.”
“The best kind of bird to run into. I love shiny things and gadgets. Are you dabbing or just doing vape juice?”
“The latter. I am so rolling that if I get stoned I’ll fucking like, just lie around and pet the floor or something. And it’s like, fucking pure MDMA shit so I don’t crack out.”
Steven handed his pen over. “Have at it. I’m only here early because of the drinks and the free admission. It’s not like I dance. Do I look like I dance? No, I look like a poet of doom.” He waited for the deer to take a puff, then took it back and did the same using a little oval cutout he’d ground in the corner of his beak. The buck stared. Despite the cold air and uneven radiant heat, he looked slightly sweaty and his eyes were black pools.
Steven continued talking. “I’m actually just waiting for my friend to get me a drink. It’s still half off, let me see what I can do…” Steven pulled his phone out.
The buck exhaled a long stream of antifreeze fog that smelled like fruity breakfast cereal marshmallows. “My name’s Keith. Like, I totally don’t see birds a lot.”
“Steven Bertram,” the raven said proudly, with a hand to his chest. “If you are up on your etymology, you would laugh right now, because Bertram means ‘beautiful raven’.” Steven tugged his collar, turned his head, and pretended to preen his shoulder.
“Etymology? Isn’t that studying bugs or something?”
“Not quite,” Steven said, while he texted Brutus.
[Get a jager bomb or something trashy and get back here hes pretty and buzzed and high as fuck and stupid]
“You look kinda like you’re a goth or something,” Keith said. He then brushed his hand up between his antlers. “I mean, look at me, like this shirt feels cool and it’s not there but it’s like, there. And the pants are hot. I feel all filthy in ‘em. But you, you and your coat! Wow.”
“Quite. All ravens are required to look like they come out of an Edgar Allan Poe porno.”
At these words, Keith looked glassy-eyed and blank, even after his insufflation of nicotine. “Uhh, uh, alright.”
[where r u hes a ducking deer] Steven typed, and was just hovering the pad part of his finger over the send button when Brutus stalked into the outdoor smoking room. “Ahh! My wolf!”
“I’m nobody’s fucking wolf. Here’s your…” Brutus started, then spied the deer sitting corner adjacent to Steven on the smoking bench. “One trashy bar cocktail for each of you,” he grunted, then handed the drinks over to Steven and Keith.
“Well, what do you say to a wolf who just got you a free drink?” Steven mocked, a black leathery hand on Keith’s shoulder. He discreetly set the drink meant for him on the bench, next to his previous zombie that he had only single-sipped. The raven did not intend to get drunk at all.
The black-eyed deer had less restraint. He sipped at his given drink. “Jager bomb! Oh man, we shoulda done this at the bar! They make the tower and everything!”
Steven looked between the two, noted the lack of drink in Brutus’ hand, and picked up his un-consumed zombie. He held it up and Brutus took the bait; the wolf’s attention was fully on Keith at this time and he snatched the glass without a second thought.
The deer downed his drink with a big gulp and then chuffed to hide a belch from the energy drink mixer. “Thank you, uh, Mister Wolf?” He grinned sweetly and palmed up over his head again.
Brutus sat between Steven and Keith, prompting the raven to scoot over with an indignant flick of his head. “Yeah, don’t mention it. Name’s Brutus.” He guzzled it just the same as Keith.
Keith, who continued to look sweatier than he should considering the frigid outside weather, immediately clung up to Brutus. “You’re something else. Wow,” he groaned, and felt over the wolf’s leather-clad chest. His fingers toyed with the neck and collar lacings, which were spread wide. The shirt would never close entirely, the lacings meant for decoration; with the wolf’s brawny chest packed in there, the rawhide strung across the opening begging to be strummed.
Brutus’ attitude turned the corner from disgruntled aggression to aggressive lust. As Keith fawned digitally over the lupine leathered swells, the wolf explored the sleek gray mesh of Keith’s shirt. He fingered over the deer’s chest and felt his quick pulse, then stroked down over his stomach until Keith quivered.
Meanwhile, Steven watched as his plan to find some dumb fuck for the night yielded results, but not for him. “There’s a camera there, you know,” he said, and pointed a talon towards where a camera hung from the ceiling, rim of dull red night-vision LEDs.
Keith continued being as handsy as he could with Brutus. “Uh-huh. Hey security, I’m playing with a mean scary wolf,” he said, and proceeded to sink down further until he was lying back on the bench with his head across Brutus’ lap, antlers knocking against the bench. He then rolled over and blatantly kissed the wolf’s bulge, deftly avoiding giving the wolf any pokes.
The raven pretended to be interested in his smartphone. He actually was interested in Keith, specifically in the perpetually-dangled idea of Brutus wanting some help spit-roasting whatever horny sap he found for the evening. The raven knew his lupine friend’s type very well and Keith seemed perfect on the surface. Perfect inside as well, considering the deer’s current wide-eyed behavior. He also stared at his phone because it made him feel less irritated at the pair’s flagrant flirting.
“You know,” Steven said, “It’s awfully cold out here even with the heaters. And the bouncers will throw you out if you try to fuck in here. They’ll throw you out if you put your head down on a table for ten seconds.” He spoke without looking up from the screen.
Brutus, who was wearing leather police gloves, was now fingering Keith’s mouth with one hand, while the other held onto an antler tine. The deer played as being horribly violated, but was also very obviously grabbing the wolf’s wrist and pushing gloved fingers into his mouth. “Oh yeah? It’s not very busy right now.”
“Yes, except someone is certainly watching that. For real. Because it’s a security camera. I guarantee if you stand up on the bench, some barback will charge in here and swat you with a newspaper.”
“You got somewhere else we could go?” Brutus said, taking the bait and helping Keith get up to his feet. The wolf knew very well where they could go, would go.
“Mmm, quite,” Steven said, then got up. He stood by the doorway and ushered the pair out of the smoking area, and gave Brutus the stink eye as he passed. The wolf ignored it.
—
Brutus and Keith required a stop at the coat check on their way out, before the clock even had struck ten o’clock at night. Outside, Brutus kept pushing forward and Keith - in a punky and fashionable thrift store biker jacket - tried to keep his rolling hands all over the leathered wolf. Brutus kept a gloved hand on Keith’s tines.
They walked one block through the late autumn air and turned down an urban residential alleyway. Steven fussed with a locked and chained gate in a fence, then admitted them. “Sssh,” he hissed through his beak. “The owners here work nights and aren’t home but we shouldn’t let the neighbors know we’re here,” he stage whispered.
Keith looked around confused and dug his heels in. “Uhh. Wait what?”
Brutus pushed ahead and walked a few paces to the back of a garage and shed combo that had seen better days. He pulled a rock out of snow-dusted dirt and fetched a rusty key-hider from beneath it, then unlocked the shed with the key. “You wanted to fuck a wolf, you’re gonna get fucked by a wolf. Hope that’s alright with you,” Brutus said, as he fumbled with the door lock. Unlike Steven’s work with the gate, Brutus could barely handle the task.
The raven’s irritation with Brutus’ drunkenness ratcheted up second by second and he put his hand into his pocket to withdraw his keyring with a key to the shed. Oblivious, Brutus swore and grunted; when he finally unlatched it, he shoved the door open with drunken fervor.
Steven brought up the rear and sandwiched an increasingly uncertain deer into the shed. Inside, while partly full of junk, the shed also held a spartan bed haphazardly sheeted with linens that didn’t have any fresh stains, and various sex toys and restraints. The windows looked cloudy with dirt and age from the outside, but were actually painted sloppily opaque on the inside. A single light-bulb lit the space, and an old space heater glowed as soon as Brutus kicked it with a boot toe.
“Oh my god, are you two kidnapping me?” Keith said, black-pool eyes staring up at Brutus even as he kept fondling the wolf’s leathered body.
“Is that your thing? You were going werewolf crazy over me back there,” Brutus said, expansively gesturing back where he thought the club was. Steven squinted; he was completely wrong. “But naw, I just wanted to drag you off to this filthy little hovel to fuck you senseless. You look like you need a good, hard fuck,” the wolf laughed, then grabbed Keith’s arm and tried to deposit him onto the double bed. He staggered along with him and quickly pinned the deer down. “You need a big fucking knot wrecking your slippery asshole while you fucking bleat like a sheep.”
“Well, I’m glad someone’s made use of the happy hour drink specials,” Steven piped up, as he lodged himself over in a corner where he could clearly watch whatever both wolf and deer were doing.
Keith quickly returned to fawning over Brutus and his flagrant leather outfit. “You’re so filthy, dragging me back to a shed to fuck me with your werewolf cock,” Keith slobbered, as he switched from groping Brutus’ chest and instead pried his fly open. Brutus wore no underwear, and his sheath flopped out, then overflowed with his black cock.
“I lubed up before I came out here because I’m a fucking bottom, but I’m still gonna get a big taste,” Keith purred, then twisted around on the bed, engulfing the wolf’s big and floppy cock as much as his muzzle and tongue would let him. Even with a cervine muzzle, he managed to gulp it into his throat with a bulge worthy of body horror, then pulled back off with a lustful gag. He repeated the motion, pushing his muzzle over the wolf’s black shaft so intently that it bent floppily before shoving into Keith’s gagging throat.
Brutus sneered and held Keith’s antlers like handles as he thrusted several times into the buck’s throat, then pulled out to smear his shaft over Keith’s face. Despite his lustful and predatory expression and sexual groaning, the wolf’s cock remained macho floppy as it dragged over Keith’s frat-boy face.
Keith kissed Brutus’ balls and then pulled away to turn around, on all fours in a flash. “Don’t forget to wrap it up,” he said coyly as he stared black-eyed over his shoulder.
The wolf responded by ignoring Keith’s request and instead jerking himself, squeezing at the area where his knot should have bulged, milking and fondling with an increasing scowl. He breathed hard, the power-huffs of someone quite thoroughly soused as much as aroused by a cock-hungry twink.
“You said you had a back zip,” Brutus said, then grabbed for it as Keith unintentionally spread his legs apart. He grabbed at the wrong end, growled, then failed to pry the cheap zipper up using his leather-gloved fingers. “There it fucking is. Get your ass out, you fucked up little punk.”
“Wait, wait, you gotta, you know, man,” Keith said, staring agog at Brutus, cogent enough to complain but blasted enough not to bother lifting a finger to back it up.
Steven did nothing physical to help Brutus or protect Keith, but he did speak up. “Oh, you don’t have anything to worry about. He’s a wolf and you’re a deer. What do you think’s going to happen, you’re going to have puppies?”
The raven’s words got an unpleasant scowl from the already aggravated wolf. “Hey, cool it, bird-brain,” Brutus huffed through his teeth, then turned back to Keith and approached him again, bumping against the fuck bed. Keith nearly jumped out of his skin, slender muzzle clenched hard enough to show cords in his cheeks. “Look, why don’t you play with it a little more, huh?”
“Ooh, yes, and if you stick the tip in water once he passes out drunk, he’ll wet himself.”
As soon as Steven spoke, Brutus snarled and snapped towards him. Steven responded by hopping backwards. Even with his light weight, the thud jostled some things in the shed and knocked over a few rusty cans of spray-paint.
The raven had broken his sarcastic seal and his inner irritation continued to spew forth. “You could tickle his pickle all you want, but you’reout of luck. Too bad talking wolves don’t have penis bones like wild ones,” Steven continued, and preemptively held his arm up in defense.
Brutus jolted towards him. “The fuck is wrong with you? You can’t fuckin’ wait your turn?”
“I just think it’s funny that you were pacing around all day, going on about how you were going to screw the brains out of some poor idiot’s head, in your exact words, and now that big schlong of yours is as limp as my fucking wrist,” Steven said, crossing his arms and twisting his head up and off to the side.
Brutus raised his hackles, clawed at the air, snarled, then turned on a heel and stormed out of the shed. He slammed the door and yet more detritus collapsed.
Keith waited a pregnant pause, then looked between Steven and the door. “Uh, is he alright?”
“Oh, he’s just drunk and stupid,” the raven said, and checked his phone. He watched one minute tick over. Like clockwork:
[Where is the car]
[Asshole]
[Where is the car]
[Fine I found the car no need to come let me into the fucking car you son of a bitch]
[Remembered you put a spare key on it haha]
[Fuck its a door key what the hell this is the 21st century why isn’t there a button]
[Enjoying fucking bambii, shithead????]
“Definitely drunk, and definitely stupid.” Steven sighed. “I’m really extremely angry, but you can’t tell because I’m a bird and we’re mysterious.” He then walked up and patted Keith on the cheek, then gave him a jostle to one of his tines. “I had half a mind to fuck around with you myself, but I should really make sure he doesn’t roll around in something dead or try to eat cat shit.”
Keith resumed his mind-altered fidgeting, and got up to his feet. “Yeah, uh, alright. This was kinda weird. But I dunno, that wolf guy’s pretty hot. I mean, I totally would have let him do whatever to me. I could make his dick hard. For sure. Uh, well, later.” Keith gave a jittery parting nod, and headed out the door.
Steven waited another few moments, then turned off the heater and lightbulb and left as well. Three sets of footprints headed away , one a mash of all three on their way in, the other a single pair of shoes from Keith, and the third a pair of big cowboy boots. The raven followed that one, and arrived at his own car. Brutus sat inside, staring at the dashboard.
“Well, isn’t this awkward,” the raven said, as he opened the door and climbed in. The raven ignored Brutus and started the car, which roared to life with the sound of a loud aftermarket exhaust. “Of course, I’m not going to just let you sit here and freeze. Besides, I think that poor deer was conf-”
“Why do you always fuck things up?” Brutus turned towards Steven, dark face feral and slack. “And don’t fucking mouth off, you fucked it up. You fucking shit on my choice of clothes, you got me fucking trashed,” and he interrupted himself to hiccup and then snarl with discomfort, “And you fucking humiliated me. In. Front. Of. A. Fucking. Deer. You know how much I get off on deer. And, and, and fucking then you make me trudge along through the fucking snow to sit around in your stupid car while you stick your cock in one of his stupid ears and out the other!”
Steven put the car in gear and immediately spun the tires against the cold, accumulating snow. He pushed himself back into the seat as he tapped his talons on the steering wheel. “Well, no, actually, I did not stick anything in any of his holes. Certainly nothing of mine. And too bad you now have to sit and stew in here. Would you let me tirade now?”
“ARRGH!” Brutus snarled, then spazzed in his seat, rocked back and forth, kicked at the firewall beneath the dashboard, and grabbed at the sun visor to use as a chew toy. He added a second set of puncture holes. Then, he slumped and glared. “Fine.”
“You know what I get off on. I get off on double-teaming. I get off on tag-teaming. I am the kinky weirdo, you are the tough hard fuck. And you keep monopolizing everyone we meet up with, for the last few times. You’re the big bad wolf in his tough-guy outfits and a dick that could unclog a toilet, and I’m just some fucking bird who wears an ankh necklace and has JRPG backgrounds on his phone. Plus, you can’t hold your liquor.”
“Says fucking who,” Brutus scowled again, huffing fog against the side window.
Steven shifted gears roughly and caused Brutus to tilt away from the window and then bash his nose-pad against the glass. “Sorry, it’s the turbo lag,” he lied. “And says your whiskey dick, that’s who. Says you and two double whiskeys and a Red Bull vodka and an entire zombie on an empty stomach within twenty minutes of waltzing into that toilet of a dance club.”
“I like toilets. They smell great,” Brutus said through his teeth.
“Of course you do. I think at this point, we should chalk tonight up as a terrible failure. For both of us. Neither of us got what we want. And this snow is really quite something. I thought it would just flurry…” The fastest way to get across town to their apartment was to take urban surface streets, which meant constant slippy starts, stuttering anti-lock stops, and lots of head-bobbing shifting. Steven did not try to drive smoothly, while Brutus remained silent and looked increasingly agitated. First angry, then anxious, and finally a little drool escaped from his mouth as he huffed and puffed.
A block away from the apartment, as they pulled up to a stoplight, Brutus abruptly took his seatbelt off and barged out of the car.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Gonna go for a walk,” the wolf snapped, then slammed the door hard enough that Steven’s ears popped.
Steven rolled down the passenger window. “It’s cold, you know. It’s snowing. It’s winter. You’re drunk.”
“I’m covered in fucking fur,” Brutus yelled, and quickly ducked down into an alleyway. Steven closed the window, preferring not to listen for confirmation that Brutus was doing nothing badass and everything vomitous.
Steven did not wait, and did head back to the apartment. He checked his friend locator and Brutus had left his on as usual, in case they got separated at the club. The wolf was now heading to, and then stopping at, a coffee shop.
The raven undressed and climbed right into bed, and finally let loose of the crushing grip he had on his feelings. He had started off feeling energetically bitchy, but as the night went on, every decision he made was just salt into Brutus’ wounds instead of macho-prompting teasing. Oh, well, I fucked right up, he thought.
—
Steven popped awake. An enormous shaft of light spilled into his bedroom and he watched it glint off the end of his beak as it stuck out from the sheets. His phone sat charging on the nightstand and announced that it was three-fifteen in the morning and thus the light was absolutely not the sun. He slithered out of the blankets and sat up to the sight of someone with tall ears standing in the doorway.
“Ungh, Brutus, can you practice looming in doorways somewhere that is not my bedroom while I’m asleep at three in the morning?” The raven groaned, then prickled his shoulder feathers and preened them back down.
“You ruined my chance to fuck,” the wolf growled, and stalked forward. He would have fooled just about everyone else that he actually meant it. Steven detected the telltale hints of pushing hard in his slightly-more-than-roommate’s voice.
“Computer, I think someone’s in the house!” Steven said, and a blue light swirled atop the black cylinder of his home assistant on the dresser. All of the lights in the entire apartment popped on at white full power. Two seconds after, the device blurted out, “Okay!” in a digitized voice.
Brutus immediately snarled and winced, covering his eyes with his hands. “Son of a bitch, I’ve got a fucking hangover!” the wolf huffed. He gave up on whatever he was going to do and instead left the room.
Steven waited a few moments, listening. Brutus rummaged in the kitchen, retrieved a glass, filled it with water, did something that made two plops, and then stood around creaking the floorboards as something fizzed. After a gulping sound and a thud, the wolf returned and stalked back into Steven’s room.
“Are you here to give me what I deserve?” the raven said, arms crossed over his chest as he sat in bed. His phone buzzed, upset at a stream of MOTION DETECTED notifications and thumbnails of Brutus skulking around in the kitchen.
“I can’t sleep because I’m hung over, I can’t sleep ‘cuz I had a bunch of coffee, I can’t sleep ‘cuz I huffed around outside in the fucking cold, and I can’t sleep because my dick’s so hard it fucking hurts.”
“Did you take viagra before going out? Shame it took so long to start working...”
“No, dumbass. It’s a hangover boner. So I’m fucking mad, in pain, and uncontrollably horny.”
“You’re still in that very gay outfit you made such a fuss about,” Steven said, and pointed.
“I kinda like it,” Brutus growled, and looked off to the side.
“So what do you want me to do? I’m just going to fuck up your night again. I’ll let you rub your cock all over my feathers then slap you in the face and tell you to go sleep it off.”
“Gimme your asshole,” Brutus huffed, and started to climb onto the bed.
Steven sat up much straighter, then started to scoot back onto his pillows, going as far as to hop up ready to bounce off the bed. “Here, let me detach it…” he said nervously. “How could you possibly-”
“Never fucked a bird before, and since you got to fuck that deer, I get to fuck you,” the wolf tried to produce a useful argument. “My big, fat knot up your… up your cloaca or whatever.”
“I have quite a normal asshole, thank you. I’m surprised you never noticed before.” Steven slowly settled back down. “Are you really serious, though? You tried to bite my sun visor in half in my car and you expect me to let you stick anything in any of my holes?”
“Your stupid car and all its stupid shiny little go fast bits,” Brutus snarled, but kneeled and rubbed at his leathered bulge. “And this room is like a fucking Azure Green catalog.” Steven’s room was decorated intensely with posters, folk-craft wall-hangings, and at least two knick-knack shelves for each wall. His dresser had a set of multi-tier small drawers labeled with a tape-writer for various types of jewelry.
“Are you going to make fun of my feathers next?”
“Your feathers are cool,” the wolf admitted and squirmed in place. “Go on, play with my dick. You’re gonna do real nice or I’m gonna uh, wolf you somehow.”
Steven clucked his tongue. “Wolf me? You must still be drunk. If you try anything stupid, I’m going to peck your eyes out.” He then reached over and felt along Brutus’ bulge. First with his finger-pads against the leather, then back up with the back of a talon. “You’re a very big wolf.”
Brutus growled, but the closed-mouth chest growl of a pleased and playful canine. He reached down and started opening his leather pants, growling again as he fought with the buttonholes. With no underwear on, his cock was just a grab and pull away. He was already well out of his sheath, and unlike earlier in the night at the fuck shed, his shaft bloated up to tense throbbing hardness in seconds.
Steven reached over and repeated his gentle teasing, sizing up Brutus from the sloped and tapered cockhead to the torpedo shaft to the big knot bulge to the bundled furry sheath at the base. “Oh yes, you’re a big, stupid wolf puppy,” he said, curling his fingers and slowly pumping along the shaft. It was already sweaty and Brutus drooled precum even as he growled again.
“You’re an asshole,” the wolf huffed. “Who’s trying to avoid using his.”
Steven trilled. “Fine,” he rolled over onto his stomach.
“No, I wanna do it with you lookin’ at me.”
“Well I wanna do it the way that’s going to make me enjoy it. I’m not letting some big stupid wolf shove his smelly wolf-dick into my asshole just for himself.” Steven hid his actual emotions - a sense of crawling fear and excitement at actually being fucked by Brutus - behind his needling. “And I’m not going to cum from it no matter what you do so don’t get huffy. The lube is over there,” he swirled a talon in the air towards his second nightstand.
Brutus swiped up the bottle and squirted his cock with it, then kneeled up between Steven’s legs and rubbed his cocktip between the raven’s rump cheeks. “Huh, you do have a regular asshole,” he quipped, and caught his tip on the ring. Steven trilled again. He leaned forward and slid almost entirely in at once, eight inches until his knot smacked the ring. “Holy shit,” he huffed.
Steven merely huffed. “I have a loose ass. Sue me.”
“You’re tellin’ me,” the wolf growled, then started rocking in and out. “Feels real nice just doing whatever I want, no fussing,” he said. He looked to the side, where Steven had an identical closet mirror on his identical apartment closet. “You’re kinda delicate looking, all the feathers and stuff, and you don’t fuckin’ weigh anything, but then your asshole’s like a fuckin’ horse donut.”
“You’re beautiful too,” Steven snipped. “By the way, ahh, I did not fuck that deer earlier. At all. With anything. Not like I’m equipped to fuck, unless you forgot about that. He ran off all scared. I’m sure he, he, hmm,” Steven clutched around a pillow and contorted his body slowly into different positions. “I’m sure he did something, else,” he trailed off as the sensation of cock sliding through his flesh distracted him.
“I shoulda fucked you sooner if you’re this easy,” Brutus leaned down over Steven’s back and reached up to hold his shoulders. He pulled free entirely and slid back in, over and over, thrusting like a machine.
At first, Steven merely accepted the situation out of curiosity. He found Brutus attractive but couldn’t believe the wolf actually wanted to fuck him, not after what happened earlier. He clenched up, twisted, milked, and generally tried to get something great out of the experience.
“Are you getting close?” he chided. As he lay there, he thought about how he might as well be a jerk-off toy. A toy made to be fucked. That made him quiver in front and squeeze harder on the pillow he clutched for comfort. Anal pleasure for Steven was more about the sheer sensations and less about the sexual je ne sais quois he assumed most men felt when getting railed.
Brutus snarled and pushed down harder. “Shut up, I don’t need smartass shit when I’m trying to cum.”
“You have terrible pillow talk,” Steven responded, then crossed his arms under and around his hump pillow. At least the wolf’s strong thrusts moved him enough to grind his groin against the linen. “And god, you’re a fucker.”
Steven settled into a position and loosened at just the right moment to admit Brutus’ turgid knot. The raven cawed and rose up alert, the sensation tripping his danger reflex without the real prick of pain.
“What?” Brutus ground to a halt with his knot tucked inside.
“Pull… pull it out again, and push it back in. The thick part,” Steven smacked at the bed earnestly.
“Knot-fuck you.”
“Yes, yes, that,” Steven practically cawed.
Brutus obliged and Steven immediately dropped his head, then sank forward, beak propping him up as it divoted a pillow. The sensation of the big bulge popping inside and tugging then popping back out gave Steven a butterflies-in-stomach feeling, and the big swell of the knot added enough pressure to shift everything slightly forward inside.
The fucking gave him no prostate pleasure; Steven had no prostate, no cock, no balls. He had been born female, and rectified that with some top surgery and hormone replacement years earlier. But when the wolf's knot popped in and out, it made him convulse, and that muscle tension mixed with pillow grinding hurtled him towards climax.
Steven rocked back and forth slightly out of time with the wolf’s firm thrusts, accentuating the plop and shove of a lupine knot through his asshole. “Ooh, Brutus, I’ve never had a dick like yours in me…” He breathed, overwhelmed by more sexual pleasure than he’d ever felt from an ass-fucking.
“Haha, yeah, whatever,” the wolf chuckled, changing his grip on Steven from shoulders to hips. He tugged back each time he stuffed the knot through the raven’s ring.
“I mean it, this is amazing… Brutus, I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!” Steven escalated into a ruckus of alarm calls as he convulsed with an uncontrollable orgasm. He clapped his beak shut but he couldn’t beat his vocalizations back entirely. He stuffed his head under the pillow and lost it into an excited series of caws. Halfway through his pillow-wetting climax, someone banged on the wall from the other side.
Brutus responded by pulling out with an audible, wet plop.
“Oh, you ass!” Steven croaked under the pillow, while his ring convulsed. The deep grinding pleasure of an unexpected orgasm was replaced with just the wet grind of fabric against his sex. “What’re you doing?”
“Gonna cum on you,” Brutus grunted, then pushed Steven onto his side. He grabbed the pillow and threw it away, hitting the dresser with a soft thud that was inches from being a terrific disturbance. He throttled his cock in one hand and aimed it for the raven’s face.
“No, not in my feathers, I fucking hate it in my feathers!”
Brutus grabbed Steven’s beak in one hand, and squeezed it shut. Then he snorted and his cock erupted, white gouts of seed pumping out and splatting onto the hard, black beak. For as much as he huffed and groaned and moaned, his load was quite thick and barely spurted more than a few inches. “Yeah, there we go. Looks like I got all the fuckin’ done that I needed after all.” The wolf then climbed off, grunted and stretched, and stalked out of the room.
Steven lay in a huff, anal aftershocks making him flick his toe claws, beak splattered by seed. He wiped some inside with his tongue and swallowed, then made a rotten face at the intensely bitter flavor. “Asshole,” he spoke out after Brutus, but then sank back against his pillows and let the afterglow wash him into a daze.
—
Eventually, Steven realized he had to get up and clean himself. He went into the bathroom and toweled off his beak, then attacked his asshole with some wet-wipes. The bulk of the mess was on his beak; Brutus had thankfully heeded his warning.
Steven left the bathroom and found the wolf sitting out in the apartment dining room, illuminated by the glow of his laptop.
“You really can’t sleep,” Steven said, intentionally sneaking up on Brutus to see what he was doing. He saw what looked like a dating website: pictures of someone tawny and hybrid, and at least one engorged dick pic.
Brutus caught him and slapped his laptop shut. “What the hell? I’m trying to do some fuckin’ work since I can’t sleep with this goddamn headache, and you’re all fucking naked.”
“It can’t be too bad of a headache. You fucked me with it.”
“I fucked you with my cock.”
“Looks like you’re looking to fuck lots of other people,” Steven motioned to the closed screen. “That’s hardly working, unless you’re a prostitute now. That’s a big step up from an engineer.”
Brutus put a snappy look on his face and opened his laptop, then quickly shuffled screens. “See? That’s a fatigue simulation that I’m running for a turbocharger compressor wheel.” He waved a remote desktop window around on screen. While showing off, he accidentally hovered over his taskbar. It exposed the thumbnail of someone’s penis again.
“Ooh, shiny. So you really are still working for a car parts manufacturer. I wouldn’t look at The Hunt on my work laptop, assuming I had a work laptop.”
“This is mine. I’m using a remote window.” Brutus sulked, then maximized what he was doing. It was a website named "The Hunt", a face-book of profiles looking for hookups. He typed into a chat window.
“That also looks like a deer. That looks like the deer from tonight. Are you chatting with the deer we found at the club? I’m surprised-”
“We’re gonna fuck next weekend. You’re-.”
Steven sighed. “Not invited. Of course not.”
Brutus sat silent, brow furrowed, ears turned to the sides but up. He awaited a reply and got it. Then he cleared his throat. “Bucky-boy says you’re cool.”
“I’m cool!” Steven said, holding his black hands together and clicked his talon tips in sequence. “I’ve always wanted to be cool.”
The wolf showed off his laptop and indeed, the deer - whose avatar was clearly Keith from earlier and whose name was ‘RopeLuvr1987’ - was effusively praising of both of them in the chat. Steven scanned it over before Brutus typed back. “Kinda just blundered onto him on here, messaged him to apologize and it just kinda took off. Turns out he’s extremely into dirty talk. I just dropped a little bit of it and he just... Like it turned into a cam session and I goaded him into blowing it. He said you look like you torture people and he wants to know more. Said he loves my dick and wants to know more about it, too.”
Steven pulled over a dining chair and sat down backwards on it. “This is not exactly where I expected things to end up. Lucky save, I guess.” He sighed again. “I got you drunk on purpose. I wanted to make sure I got to have fun with someone, too. What a mess. And then you fucked me! You can’t hate me if you fucked me.”
“Don’t be so sure about that, bird-brain. Ever hear of a hate-fuck?”
“If you really wanted to hate fuck me, you’d have fucked me in front.” Steven turned his beak up when he spoke.
Brutus responded with a sour look. “Ungh. I dunno, you said you don’t wanna do it in there, plus, I mean, you could have puppies.” His expression cracked into a little bit of a grin as he threw the raven’s words back at him from earlier.
“Not with you. I’d self-abort. I’d get a coat-hanger. I’d go find some scary illegal doctor… hmm, this is starting to sound more fun than it should.”
“Did you really cum?” Brutus asked, while typing to his new-found sex friend.
“Yes! And that was weird. I usually have to do something pretty intense. Shove a couple of wand vibrators on there - one on each speed. Fantasize about elaborate shibari bondage… but no, you just ground me against the pillow and then,” Steven portrayed his orgasm as a warning klaxon from a movie. “Now I’m going to want you to fuck me all the time.”
“No.”
“Please fuck me? I’ll do anything. You have a huge, gorgeous cock.”
“No,” the wolf growled, harder.
“You have a disgusting, smelly wolf-cock!”
Snarl, ears all the way back. “NO.”
“I stole your food! I stole your food! Bad bird!” He then let out a frantic caw.
Brutus lunged and snapped, and Steven merely tucked back, a smooth withdraw instead of a flinch. “You know… fuck, I don’t even know what I was gonna say. Anyway. Next weekend. You oughta clean up the fuckin’ shed.”
“Me! Clean up the fucking shed! Why me? You’re the one who pays Ben rent for it.”
“Cuz you’re the crazy bondage top and it’s all your junk in there anyway. It looks like somewhere a shitty redneck serial killer’s gonna take someone. Come on, look at yourself, you wear jewelry when you’re fucking naked. Make it look like a fucking dungeon. You work at a fucking dungeon store.”
Steven did in fact have ornate metal rings on five of his leathery fingers across two hands. “Fine. I’ll make it look nice for your deer mattress as long as I legitimately, one hundred percent get to play with him as well.”
Brutus responded with just a hot grunt, which was as good as yes.
