by Kyell Gold
“Don’t think like that,” Volle said sharply, though his fur was tingling at the touch. “If you have hope then I might have hope, and I don’t want hope. That’s what they want me to have.”
“I think you’re being paranoid,” Streak said. “They can’t know what’s going on here. For all they know, I’ve been torturing you.”
“I think they know, somehow. You’re too…too beautiful. I thought when I first saw you that you were too perfect to be a coincidence. I’ve always had a bit of a thing for wolves, and you’re just…” He sighed, and smiled. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to be as sweet inside as you looked outside. I don’t know if they were either. But they (he) could easily have found out (knows) that I like wolves. I wasn’t exactly discreet about my liaisons during my time in the palace.”
“I bet you could have had any male or female you wanted.”
Volle smiled. “Now you’re just saying that to be polite.”
Streak smiled back and lowered his muzzle, ears flicking. “So…what do we do now?”
“Now?” Volle flicked his ears and let his smile widen. “Well, I have an idea…”
Streak watched, amused, as the fox flipped over and lapped several gulps of water from the wall. When he turned back over, the wolf grinned. “What?”
“I don’t want to think about the future any more. And there’s something I’ve been wanting to do since that first day.”
“Oh?” Streak’s eyes flicked to Volle’s sheath, which was showing signs of life. The wolf grinned. “What’s that?”
“Mmm. Maybe you could kneel up here and let me see that equipment of yours up close.” Volle tried to sound more bashful than eager, but he couldn’t stop his tail from smacking the stone floor as it wagged.
The wolf smiled and stood up, unfastening his pants and sliding them down to the ground. He cupped his paw around his groin for a moment, self-consciously, then dropped it to his side, leaving his sheath exposed with his shirt hanging down on either side.
Volle followed the plump white ridge of fur, already showing some red at its tip, as Streak stepped over him and slowly knelt astride him. The fox craned his head forward until his nose was just brushing the soft white fur, panting with the effort until the wolf’s paws slid behind his head to support him. Slowly, he drew his tongue up the warm length of fur, and was gratified to see how quickly it swelled and pushed the wolf’s shaft further out.
Above him, he heard a gasp, and he felt the warm rumble of pleasure in the wolf’s chest. He started the next lick lower, giving the dangling sac a curl of his tongue before sliding up the thick sheath again. He stopped just below the top, though his eyes were drawn to the length above it. On the next lick, he didn’t stop, letting his tongue travel all the way to the tip and stopping there.
Streak breathed harder, and Volle wagged his tail as best he could. His sheath was hard and full too, lying on his belly, and the wolf’s tail was tickling the skin of his member as it wagged back and forth. He licked again, and though he’d done this with many other males, was struck by how happy he was to be making this white wolf shiver. Streak had become important to him, and so this act was more than just the hedonistic enjoyment of a male in his muzzle, or a return obligation; it was an expression of his feelings. He was prevented from using his paws to caress the wolf, and this was all he could do.
He licked again and again, and at some point Streak’s hips shifted and Volle found himself staring down the glistening length of the wolf’s erection. He smiled and slid his muzzle around it, feeling its warmth on his tongue and its familiar hardness against his teeth. He held it for a moment, marveling again at how the feeling could be so new when he’d done this a hundred times.
The wolf’s paws guided his head with the impatience of passion, and Volle could taste the wolf’s need in the thick musk on his tongue. He slid obligingly back and forth, and the wolf’s hips met him and pulled back with him. The musk grew stronger, the wolf’s movements quickened and became more erratic, and Volle found himself tensing with excitement. Streak was moaning now, and Volle’s erection shivered in sympathy as he felt the thick length in his muzzle drip musk onto his tongue. They were moving together now, as easily as if they’d been together for years, and Volle couldn’t say how he knew the moment was coming, but he did.
He braced himself just before Streak let out a breathless squeak, pushing Volle’s head into his hips. His knot pushed past the fox’s lips, his whole length trembling, spurting musky warmth on Volle’s tongue. He swallowed around the thick spasming member as the lovely white wolf above him bent forward, entirely focused on his climax.
It was over entirely too soon. Volle swallowed again, though he was trying to savor the rich musky taste of Streak. Slowly, the wolf sat back, letting his dripping erection slide out of the fox’s muzzle. Volle looked up and gave the wolf a warm smile.
“I liked that a lot.”
“You liked it? Oh, gods, fox.” Streak leaned over and let his paws slide down so he was holding Volle’s chest. “I’ve been with a couple, but…never like that.”
Volle licked his lips and nuzzled the wolf. “Mmm. I’m glad you liked it.” He sighed happily.
Streak held him for a long moment, and then slid off to lie between Volle and the wall. He let an arm rest on Volle’s chest, and rested his head on the fox’s shoulder. “I liked it, yes. And now I don’t want to go.”
“You’ll always have to.” Volle sighed. He nuzzled Streak again.
“You’re right, though. I will. But not just yet.” He slid his paw down Volle’s stomach and smiled. “I think I have some unfinished business.”
“You really don’t have to.” The protest was weak.
“You can’t stop me.” Streak grinned, eyes half-closed as his paw closed around Volle’s erection.
Volle shivered, and closed his eyes as the wolf started to stroke. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Again, he was amazed at the freshness of it. Even compared to the last time the wolf had masturbated him, this felt subtly different, even considering that it hadn’t been two months since his last release. Streak’s muzzle lay next to his, his soft breaths passing across Volle’s matted fur. His taste lingered in Volle’s muzzle. His body was warm and close, and his paw’s strokes seemed each to be lovingly planned and executed.
It took longer this time, but not much. Volle felt the climax building a long ways off and panted more quickly as it grew. He felt Streak’s body respond and felt as though the wolf could feel what he was feeling. And when it came, he felt the warmth between their bodies feed into it, holding him and Streak together in a trembling moment of bliss before he fell over the edge, moaning loudly as his seed spurted out over Streak’s paw.
He almost fell back into the wolf’s arms, still shivering. “Mmm,” Streak said into his ear. “I enjoyed that.”
“Oh…” was all Volle could manage. He felt himself drifting off into sleep, his weakened body’s reserves used up by the night’s activities.
Streak held him, and as he drifted off he heard the wolf say, “I think I can stay just a bit longer.”
He woke to inky darkness, alone, but his back was still warm. He heard the rustle of cloth on fur near him, and turned his head, the wolf’s smell strong in the cell. “Streak?” he whispered.
The noise stopped, and after a moment there was a soft chuckle. “Is that what you call me?”
Volle flicked his ears back in embarrassment. “Um. Yeah.”
“Why ‘Streak’?”
“Are you leaving?”
His whiskers and ears told him the wolf had moved. “In a minute. Don’t change the subject.” His voice came from lower down, closer to Volle’s muzzle.
“Oh, well, you have this cute black streak on your hip…and the first thing you did was take your clothes off.”
“My clothes? What does that have to do with it?”
“You never streaked as a kid?”
“Don’t know what that is.”
“It just means stripping and running out in public. You know, naked.” Volle chuckled. “It was a big thing at our school for about a year. I did it twice.”
“You city boys.” Streak sounded amused. “Well, I think it’s cute.”
Volle didn’t know why Streak assumed he was from the city. He had grown up in the city, but the background story he’d told at the palace was that he’d grown up on a farm. He was too tired and happy to maintain the lie now, so he let it go. After a pause, he said, “What do you call me?”
“Just ‘fox.’”
“You don’t know any other foxes?”
“Not right now. Listen, I don’t know how long I was asleep. I should get out of here before Gerrold comes in.”
“Yeah. Hurry. I’ll see you again soon.”
“Count on it.” The wolf’s muzzle moved tentatively towards his; they found each other quickly and shared a brief kiss. He saw Streak’s silhouette in the door’s frame as it opened. The wolf turned and looked at him, then closed the door, leaving him in darkness once again.
He lay awake for what might have been one hour or three, thinking about Streak, and about his situation. He tried to concentrate on the pleasant memories, but the thought of what he’d do if they took the wolf away from him kept intruding. They didn’t have much time left, he was sure of that. Maybe one or two more visits, and that would be it.
The door opened, and the skunk shuffled in with a plate of food. He set it down next to Volle, and in the dim light from the door, Volle thought he saw the skunk’s nose wrinkle at the musky scents in the cell.
“So,” he said impulsively, “what’s the name of that white wolf who comes in here sometimes? I’d like to report him. He’s been very abusive.”
The skunk stopped and stared at him, then shook his head and turned away without a word. He picked the torch out of the ceiling bracket but didn’t replace it with a new one.
“Hey! Where’s my light? You can’t just leave me here in—” The door slammed shut. Of course Limp Stripes could leave him in the dark.
This was different. And it didn’t look to be good.
Part 5
He ate the food slowly, sat against the wall, and waited.
In the darkness, he had no way of telling how much time had passed. He slept fitfully, lapped at the water when he was thirsty, and listened to the rumbling in his stomach. He hadn’t felt really full in months, but the meals usually appeared at the right time to take the edge off his hunger.
No longer. He licked the plate clean, and kept licking it even after the smell of food was gone from it. He had slept five, seven, ten times, but he didn’t know for how long. The ache in his stomach grew more and more acute, faded away, and returned with a vengeance. His sleep grew more restless, spotted with uneasy dreams.
Dereath was weakening him, he realized, starving him to batter down his resistance. He’d done it before. So this would be the end. Between physical weakness, and emotional, would he would give away his secrets?
He sat up, pulled one paw below his neck, and rested his head on the chain. With some difficulty, he lifted his paw around the other side of his head and then down, so the chain made a loop around his neck. The clinking of the links echoed around the cell. He lowered his body and felt the tension increase in the chain.
Could he do this? He lay down further and heard his breath start to wheeze as the chain tightened. The urge to sit up flooded through him, but his body was weak enough that he could fight it. He panicked as his breathing became more labored, and scrabbled briefly at the chain before pulling his paw away again. Spots appeared in front of his eyes and his body thrashed around, finally jerking forward.
The chain loosened, and he gulped down deep lungfuls of air, half sobbing as he did so. He felt dizzy; spots still danced in front of his eyes. Frantically, he tried to lift his arm over his head again as he felt consciousness slipping from him, but the darkness stole in before he could tell whether he’d succeeded.
“Fox! Oh gods, wake up!” He was being shaken. A grey shape with white edges was hovering over him.
“Stop…shaking…” He panted through a haze of dizziness.
“Are you okay?” The smell, the voice—he recognized Streak now.
He put a paw to his throat. “I…think so.” Something was different. He held up his paw and looked at it. The shackles were gone. “What…”
Streak was unlocking the shackles on his legs. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”
Volle paused to digest that. He moved his arms around experimentally. They felt oddly detached. “Why?”
“They’re going to kill you. Starve you to death. How long has it been since they brought food? Three days? Four? Five?”
“Don’t know. Since you came.” Volle’s head was clearing, slowly, but now he was becoming aware of the gnawing emptiness in his stomach and the weakness in his limbs. “How did…?”
“I stole the key.” Streak picked up something from the floor and shook it out. “Here, put these on.” Volle stared at the pants, and Streak sighed. “You poor…okay, here.” He slid them over Volle’s feet.
“Okay, okay.” The fabric rubbed his fur the wrong way, and the sensation pulled him at least partly into awareness. Volle pulled them up and fastened them. They were extremely loose on him, and felt odd after so long without clothes. “Where did you get all this?”
“This is my spare uniform. It’ll be loose but it’ll fit. I can’t carry you naked through the prison.” He handed Volle the shirt.
With some difficulty, Volle slid it on. His fingers fumbled as he fastened it around the front, and at the lowest button, his muscles protested. He hadn’t stretched his arms that far in months.
“All set?” Streak’s ears were back and he looked grim. He set his arms beneath Volle and lifted. Volle felt the muscles in his arms tighten. “You’re so light.”
Volle put a paw on the wolf’s chest. “I think I can walk.”
“Later.” Streak smiled, a tight nervous smile, and kissed his nose quickly. “When we get to the top.”
He pulled the fox to his chest and stood up. Volle tried putting his arms around Streak’s neck, but the tension was too uncomfortable and he dropped them to his own chest. The wolf turned and walked toward the open door and the light beyond, and as he turned Volle to walk through it, the fox caught a glimpse of his empty shackles, lying beside the gutter in the floor, water glistening on the wall beyond. Then they were through the door, and out.
He remembered the hallways, dead grey stone with torch sconces placed regularly. Compared to the blackness he’d lived in for the past few days, the light was almost blinding. Volle squinted as Streak hurried through the corridors.
“Do you know anyone in the palace who can hide you? I don’t know anyone in the city and you’re not strong enough to get out yet.”
The name he’d made himself forget floated tantalizingly out of reach. He knew he couldn’t go there anyway, though. But Helfer would be okay. Hef would help him. “Yes. West wing, second floor.”
“I can get you there.”
They hadn’t met any other guards, and Volle thought this was strange, but perhaps he was the only prisoner down here. “Where are the other guards?”
“Other wings. You were pretty isolated. There’s a back stair we can use. Then you’ll have to walk to the palace from there. It’s the middle of the night, though. We should be okay.”
Volle nodded. Streak was walking quickly but not running, and the motion was pleasant, almost lulling the fox back to sleep. He forced himself to stay awake as they passed scores of open cells, walked up a dimly lit staircase, and passed slowly through a more open series of cells, with windows in the doors.
“Oops.” Streak muttered it under his breath as he stopped and turned quickly, and Volle caught a whiff of rat scent. Then it was gone; the wolf marched down another hallway and to a staircase. At the top, behind a closed door, he set Volle down gently.
“We have to walk from here. I’ll support you. If anyone stops us, you’re my drunk friend, I’m walking you back to the barracks.”
“They’re not in this direction.” He was surprised that the map of the city remained so strong in his head.
“It’s the best I could come up with. It’ll explain away part of the smell, too.”
Volle nodded. “Okay.” He stood gingerly, and his knees buckled almost immediately. He grabbed at Streak for support. The wolf had his arms around him in an instant, holding him upright. Volle looked into the warm blue eyes.
“Thank you,” he said softly. He nuzzled Streak and braced himself on the wolf’s powerful frame.
Streak looked embarrassed. His ears flicked and he nuzzled only briefly before looking away. “Let’s get going before it gets light.”
He pushed the door open, and Volle staggered at the cold, fresh air. The scents were clear and sharp, the air not musty with memories and pain. As he stepped out, he glanced up and stopped dead, transfixed by the glittering patterns of stars in the sky. The cold air seared his lungs, but he drank it in gratefully.
“Come on,” Streak started to say, but trailed off when he saw the glistening in Volle’s eyes. “Hey, it’s okay.”
Volle swallowed. “I really…forgot how beautiful they are.” He lowered his gaze to Streak’s white muzzle, looking at the blue eyes shining in the starlight. Slowly he lifted his muzzle, and the wolf hesitated, then met it, tightening his hold around Volle.
Volle closed his eyes and let himself be washed away on the sensations: the cold air ruffling his fur, the tight press of Streak’s muscles against him, and the warm lupine muzzle locked with his. Their tongues caressed, and then separated.
“We should go,” Streak said again, but Volle just looked at him with a slight smile. “What?”
“I never knew…how beautiful you are.”
Streak swallowed, and Volle saw him fight back tears of his own. “Fox…”
