(This is the last entry to date in the Felidae collection. To navigate the chronology: << First | < Prev )

It was just a simple doorbell. The lion had heard it from the outside of the door, like now, plenty of times before. But this time, it sounded somehow momentous. Not exactly foreboding, but significant.

Maybe it had to do with the boy standing with him, a year older at seventeen, dressed like him in a fine shirt, tie, slacks, and blazer, the tall cheetah carrying a Tupperware tray.

“Hey, Sig?”

“Yeah?” Sigmund von Klausen replied, the word bearing more than his usual touch of German accent. Or maybe he had actually said “ja”.

“…Thanks.” The biggest thing he was thanking the runner for, of course, was yet to come, but he still had to say it.

The taller, slimmer boy bumped shoulders with him, smiling. “It’s all right, Mike. I’m happy you trust me for this.”

Mike swallowed, turning to face the door and hefting his own tray, shifting the bag dangling from his elbow, at the sound of footsteps beyond. The bolt drew back, the door swung open, and the leopard’s eager grin suddenly turned to surprise.

“Oh, hi, Mike,” she said, foundering a little. “And Sig, I wasn’t expecting to see you here, but,” she recovered, a smile claiming her face again, “I don’t mind! Don’t you both look sharp!”

“Happy birthday, Angie,” Mike offered, smiling back. He tried to make his ears stay straight and his tail be still, and had partial success with each.

He’d saved up his allowance and his part-time wages for a month, preparing for this night, but seeing Angie’s delight as they laid out the platters of fine Italian take-out, as she opened packages and found her favourite chocolates, a fine crystal vase, and a bundle of Classical piano scores, he knew it had all been worth it.

She came to the last small package, and Sig beamed. “I made that for you,” he declared. Curious, she tugged the box open, pulled out some cotton packing, and gasped as she drew into the light a small figurine, a preening hawk, crafted in metal with gems set for eyes.

“My goodness, Sig, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. “What’s it made of?”

“Bronze,” the cheetah declared, smiling at her reaction. “And the eyes, topaz.”

Angie raided her parents’ liquor cabinet, and they enjoyed a glass of red wine each, talking about the latest goings-on at school and in town, laughing, and having a good time together. When Sig asked where the washroom was and slipped off to use it, though, she leaned in, gripping Mike’s shoulders.

“Mike, I’m confused,” she hissed. “When you asked if I’d have the night free, I thought you’d wanted it, well, alone! Sig’s a great guy, don’t get me wrong, but I kind of worked myself up for – “

“Angie,” he cut in, resting a hand atop hers. When she trailed off, he offered her a nervous smile. “You were… mostly right. I didn’t want your parents around…” He leaned over, picking up the last small bag, one of plain black plastic. “And as for getting worked up, well, maybe that won’t go to waste yet, huh?”

Footsteps alerted them to the cheetah’s return, and they sat up a bit straighter. Sig paused in the threshold, but padded over when Mike waved him over.

When the lion quite deliberately pulled Sig in beside him, Angie’s breath caught.

“Uh, Angie,” he started, and swallowed. “Remember a while back, you said… you said…” God damn it, why couldn’t he get the words out now? He’d rehearsed this a dozen times…

Sig slid over to the side, wrapping arms around him, and he drew a breath. Yes, there was something oddly comforting about the runner’s contact… well, maybe it wasn’t so odd, really. Other people liked having guys hold them; Mike had just got so used to the notion of them being women.

As for comforting… Mike was getting a fair idea that comforting him wasn’t the only reason Sig was holding him so close.

One benefit of guys, he reflected… it was that much easier to tell when they were aroused.

He gave Angie a breathless grin. “You said there was one thing you’d find really nice. Sig and I want to give you that as the last present of the day.”

Angie whimpered – actually whimpered; Mike had never heard her do that with clothes on, and rarely enough without them. “Oh… oh, God, guys…”

Mike got the bag untangled, pulling out a clear squeeze bottle, full of an equally clear gel. “Let’s… get upstairs,” he suggested.

He led the way to Angie’s bedroom, but he’d barely crossed the threshold when Sigmund took charge. Displaying a surprising strength in his wiry frame, the cheetah grabbed his shoulders and pinned him against the wall, nipping at the side of his neck with a growl. It was hard to figure out exactly which of these things made Mike shiver so much, made that tightness start to grow in his pants; but whatever the cause, Sigmund noticed it and approved, encouraging that swelling by rubbing his own up against it.

Over the cheetah’s shoulder, Mike saw Angie fumbling to peel out of her clothes as fast as she could. He was distracted anew, though, when the cheetah’s fingers slid inward, loosening, then undoing the lion’s tie, letting it hang from his neck and starting to undo buttons.

Oh, no, there was no mistaking his eagerness here.

Sig got the shirt undone, but when he tackled Mike’s belt and fly, he got distracted; rather than reaching around to loose his tail and strip him down, the cheetah growled again, slipping his fingers in, fishing Mike’s swelling shaft into the open. Wordlessly gazing at him, the cheetah knelt down before him, and without further ado, slid his muzzle right down around the lion’s swelling member.

Mike had been looking forward to this night himself, and Sig’s approach was more direct than anything he’d got before. It was all he could do to clutch at the cheetah’s head and hang on for dear life as the spotted cat’s lips and lashing tongue coaxed his length to full attention and then some.

He’d got a few hand jobs with less force than this; the runner’s mouth was just amazing. He’d got used to head being a gentle sort of pleasure with Angie, but this… In a spectacularly poor showing, he didn’t even last a minute before he cried out, clutching Sig’s skull, feeling his spunk shoot out over the cheetah’s tongue as he trembled against the wall.

No sooner had his climax started to wind down than Sig was on his feet, holding Mike up, easing him over to the bed. Leaning him over it, now Sig did work on the rest of Mike’s clothing, undoing the tail snap, tugging his pants and boxers down, finally getting his shirt off of him, the whole lot being tossed aside with utter disregard for the fine material. “Get comfortable,” the cheetah hissed into his ear. “I need you, Mike. Badly.”

Angie helped Mike get up onto the bed, caressing his trembling body. “God, Mike,” she whispered, and chuckled. “I don’t know about you, but I had no idea he was this much of a firecracker!”

“He was a lot gentler before,” Mike whimpered. Not in protest, oh, no… he was nervous, yes, about what was to come, but at the same time he longed to feel that wiry, energetic body against his. The dichotomy was strange and unfamiliar, but in the end, lust won out, hands down.

“Before? You’d better be ready to give me some details, young man,” Angie hissed.

The bed shifted; Sig had dealt with his own clothing and grabbed the lube, and now flowed up beside Mike, touching his snout to the lion’s cheek. “You’re very brave, you know. To do something like this for your first time, with someone dear watching you…”

“I’ve got to try, Sig,” he said, managing a crooked grin over his shoulder. “If I don’t keep going with it, I’ll chicken out, and I can’t do that.”

A laugh. “There is such a thing as being too brave,” the slimmer cat rumbled, sitting up.

Now Angie got a good look at him, and she gasped, shivering. “No kidding, you’re brave,” she hissed to Mike, squeezing his hand. “I’d be asking him to go slow, and you’re having him back there?”

“I can be gentle,” Sig said in mild reproach.

Mike didn’t need to look to know what Angie was talking about. The fact of the matter was that Sig was hung. Even soft he looked pretty massive; Mike hadn’t exactly been paying close attention when he’d seen other guys hard, but he knew the cheetah sported eight inches of gently-curved, thick flesh.

But Sig had also told him people were roomier back there than most thought, and promised him that he wouldn’t go too far or too fast.

Exactly how he’d know that, well… best not to worry too much; Sigmund knew this sort of thing far, far better than Mike did.

He gave Angie’s hand a squeeze in turn, not exactly sure who was reassuring whom. “Go on,” he said over his shoulder. “Before I lose my nerve.”

“You doubt yourself too much,” Sig breathed, cupping a hand against his cheek. He nudged a knee between Mike’s, and the lion bit his lip, shifting his legs apart to let the other youth kneel between them.

Mike was expecting to feel the runner’s glans moving into place, but the cheetah was more cautious than that; what he felt under his tail, instead, was quite distinctly the pad of the youth’s fingertip. Nor did it go into him, not yet. Sigmund gently massaged under his tail, and while the sensation was a strange, unfamiliar one, it was also mind-blowingly nice.

Angie cradled his jaw, ran a finger over his lips as they parted in a moan. Her breath was quick, ragged, eager, almost like she was the one Sig was making ready to enter.

Maybe that was part of it. Maybe Mike was the proxy through which Sig would fuck her. On the other hand… maybe she just liked the thought of watching him get pleasured. Even thinking in selfish terms, being able to sit back and relax while Angie reveled in pleasure would be nice; that another guy might be bringing it to her didn’t seem so important anymore.

He didn’t like the notion of her going off to sleep with some random guy off the street. But someone like this lean, vigorous, ever-so-slightly exotic, and – even he had to admit – drop-dead handsome cheetah?

Well, he had the first place in line, didn’t he?

When the cheetah slipped a finger into him, he shivered. On some level, it brought back memories of that time in the locker room, of how thoroughly he’d been subjugated, demeaned. But Sigmund wasn’t showing dominance over him, wasn’t trying to teach him a lesson – except, maybe, that sex with another guy could feel really damn good. That probing finger had him squirming and moaning, his again-rigid length dripping onto the sheets beneath him, well before Sigmund decided he was stretched enough to add another finger, then a third.

He was getting so swiftly addicted to the sensation of being stretched that he whined when Sig pulled his hand out. He didn’t have much time to protest, though, before it was replaced with something much smoother.

Oh, God. It was really happening… He bit his lip.

“Easy, Mike,” the cheetah murmured into his ear. No more was he poised to slip under the lion’s tail; his erection was pressed against Mike’s thigh as one of his arms wrapped around the trembling swimmer. “Everything is all right. I am not going to hurt you, or ridicule you. I will make you feel good. Trust me…”

He went on in that vein, and at some point, maybe he gave up on words, or maybe Mike just wasn’t hearing them. But the sound of his voice was soothing, reassuring, and almost magical.

Finally he paused, and tugged at Mike’s shoulder. “Maybe if you could see what I was doing, you might feel better, ja?”

Mike doubted it. He’d been so anxious even thinking about it… But at this point, he was willing to try. He knew this could feel good, even when he wasn’t exactly willing. How much better could it be if he actually tried to make it happen?

For Sigmund’s sake – and Angie’s – he had to at least try.

He let the youth get him onto his back, his head pillowed on Angie’s thigh as the leopard stroked his face and caressed his ears. Kneeling over him, Sigmund’s gleaming pink arousal looked quite impressive, even intimidating, against the backdrop of white fur. Certainly a damn sight bigger than Mike’s, the way he was seeing it now…

But then he looked farther up, seeing the tender concern, the fondness, in Sigmund’s blue eyes, and he knew it’d be okay. He didn’t need to look down at what the cheetah was doing; that would only make him nervous, make him wonder again how it could possibly fit. Just watching his face, seeing the kindness and confidence there, was enough.

The cheetah got him to push his hips up a little, arms hooking under his knees. Gazing down at him, Sigmund gave him a gentle smile; then, once more, he eased forward.

Mike’s breath caught at the first contact, but this time his body didn’t resist. Sigmund slid into him, smooth as silk, the thick warmth of his shaft filling the lion right up, and, God, it was distilled bliss every inch of the way.

The cheetah rocked against him, penis stirring under his tail, slipping out a little, then back in. He must’ve been hitting something nice, because each stroke made Mike shiver, took his breath away for a brief moment. And that was even before Sigmund leaned over him, putting a little more vigour into the motions and wrapping a hand around his length in turn.

Neither of them uttered a word, but both were quite vocal, their moans and grunts twisting together, punctuated by Angie’s quick panting. As Sigmund bent down further, she moved out of the way, and it was just the two of them. There was as much desire for him on Sigmund’s face as Mike had ever seen on Angie’s, a hungry need that said more than any words how attractive the cheetah found him, how delightful he felt under the lion’s tail.

It was such a different sensation than what he knew, but such an amazing one, too. It sent all shorts of shivers and tremors and spikes of pleasure through him, and he didn’t even notice how close that motion and the cheetah’s stroking were getting him. The rush of orgasm caught him off guard; he cried out, surging up into Sigmund’s fist, panting hard as his semen coursed over the taller male’s fingers.

The cheetah slowed his pace, trying to ease Mike through climax; but Mike didn’t want the older boy to have to finish somehow else. “Keep going,” he hissed, trying to push up against him but doing little more than squirming. With a blink, Sigmund complied, picking up the pace again. God, the feeling was intense – almost painful in its own right, that flood of pleasure. But he didn’t back down, didn’t let up in the least; and when his pleasure surged again, a few more pulses of seed dampening Sigmund’s hand, this time the cheetah shuddered and faltered, pressing his muzzle against Mike’s neck as the lion felt a distinctive wet, warm sensation spread inside him.

They parted soon after, still panting, both of them shuddering as flesh slid past sensitive flesh. Sigmund collapsed onto the bed beside him, and Mike pulled close to him, lapping at his muzzle, lips brushing lips. In the wake of his orgasm, Sigmund didn’t feel that different from the few girls Mike had spent time with, really; what differences there were, were more for being Sigmund than for being a guy.

At length, the cheetah groaned and pushed himself upright, excusing himself to go clean up. While he was gone, Angie pulled her boyfriend up into a tight embrace.

“That was amazing, Mike,” she whispered into his ear. “I’m almost scared to ask what else you’ll come up with…”

“I’ve got an idea,” he replied, grinning. He reached into the bag he’d bought and pulled out a condom, tugging the wrapper open and sliding the rubber right down along his still-rigid length.

Angie’s eyes widened as he pushed her onto her back. “But Sigmund – “

“Got it covered,” he hissed, looking up as the cheetah returned, still quite naked. “Hey, Sig, still got more in that thing for us to share?”

“I thought you would never ask,” the taller cat laughed.

He situated himself above their heads, sitting upright with his hands on Mike’s shoulders, groaning as Angie started lapping at his sac. As the lion slid himself into her familiar, but still intoxicating warmth, it was left to him to deal with the business end of the cheetah’s length. And so he did – lapping at it, kissing it; it was a little too big to get into his muzzle, or at least he didn’t trust himself to do so, but Sigmund didn’t seem to mind, his squirms and moans urging them both on. Quickly they rose in tone and intensity, the slender male rocking against their attentions, his grip on Mike’s shoulders tightening. His breath reached a fever pitch, then cut off; and in that trembling silence, Mike closed his eyes and licked over Sigmund’s musky glans.

The first shot cascaded over his tongue, sticky and pungent. More streaked his muzzle; some got on Angie’s, too, as she licked her way along his jerking length. Her tongue met Mike’s, and something about that shared contact pitched him over in turn; he shuddered, driving sharply into her, panting over her muzzle and Sigmund’s length as he shot a load into the waiting rubber.

By the way she squirmed under him, bucking, clenching around his encased cock, she was going through much the same herself.

They slid apart, Mike managing to pull the rubber off and discard it before they all collapsed together, Mike on his back, Angie on one side, Sig on the other. He had an arm around each one’s shoulders, while each of them had one draped across him. Hot as they all were, there was no need to wiggle under the covers.

They did not speak; words would only weaken the moment. They merely exchanged glances, each seeing fondness in each other pair of sleepy eyes.

Four climaxes in quick succession was more than enough to wear Mike out, and the other two seemed happy as well. That was enough for him. He closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep – and dream of even more excessive escapades – with his familiar lover and his new one resting comfortably against him.

Ah, life was good.

(This is the last entry to date in the Felidae collection. To navigate the chronology: << First | < Prev )