by Rae Foxx
This line was going nowhere fast.
“A little room please!” An exasperated male yelled from the back of the line, people swearing and cursing as someone was clearly trying to bust their way to the front of this unmoving cattle call.
People continued to complain as Mr. Line-Cutter bust his way through, coming closer.
“Excuse me, please,” he said from only a few people back. If he thought I was going to move for him he had another thing coming. We were already to the front and I was running for my life.
“Move!” He snapped, and I jumped, people starting to yell at him to wait his turn.
He just swore under his breath and continued to push his way through, cursing as much as everyone else, although he had a reason for the foul mouth. He was hoisting a giant grey animal crate with a broken wheel, the other three creaking just as loudly from the snarling, chomping creature that was inside.
A wolf, a shifter wolf.
My fox perked up at the smell of danger, Evan and Owen closing ranks. They must have smelled it too.
“Is it them?” Owen hiss-whispered in my ear, but I shook my head. There were no shifter wolves in my hometown.
Just small predatory animals hung up on the size of their teeth.
Besides, there were more than a few things wrong with this.
I was sure the gnashing, frightened creature in that cage was a wolf shifter. I could scent him; my fox was screaming for him.
Yet, he was restrained in a metal crate, escorted by a worker in a jumpsuit that was printed with the same red block lettering as the crate.
*LIVE ANIMAL *DANGER* SEATTLE ZOO*
“Seattle zoo?” Evan asked, having caught that fact at the same time I did.
We all stared as the crate passed, the attendant checking him in and wheeling him down the tarmac, all the while the large mass of white fur and sharp teeth snarled and chomped his fangs against the metal grate. He pawed at the latch like he knew it was preventing his freedom. Like he had forgotten how to open it.
How to shift.
Like he maybe never knew.
The wolf moved as they turned, lifting his head as his nostrils flared, his steel-grey eyes looking right at me.
Or eye… steel grey eye...
“Does that fucking wolf have an eyepatch?” I asked and tugged on Owen’s shirt to get his attention.
Evan scrunched up his eyebrow. “What? A wolf with an eyepatch?”
“Correction,” Owen piped up, finger in the air. “A zoo wolf with an eyepatch.”
“True,” Evan said, all of us handing over our tickets and finally joining the main line to board. “I am more concerned why a wolf shifter would be in a zoo.”
“And why he didn’t seem to understand how to escape.”
6
"Why would a wolf need an eyepatch?" I asked no one in particular.
Yes, I was still thinking about it. If anything, it was taking my mind off the impending doom of takeoff, a reality that was looming closer the longer we taxied. I had only flown once before and I had completely forgotten what to expect.
I had been five at the time, and I remember there had been a whole lot of shaking... maybe that was the plane falling apart and my parents had just kept that tiny fact from me.
I gripped the armrests like my grip was the sole thing keeping the plane together. Fighting half-breeds, super-powered shifter gods, and facing witches ready to rip your heart from your body was a piece of cake. Flying however, was going to be the one to do me in.
"Shit." I gripped harder, both my twins grabbing my hands and placing them in their laps. "Don't do that. I have to hold onto this, or the plane is going to fall apart."
Yep, I had clearly lost it, the look the twins shared said as much.
"There’s no way the wolf had an eyepatch," Owen said, his hand on my knee as he pulled me back to the original topic. "Was it just his fur, maybe?"
"He was in a dark cage," Evan added on, his fingers circling gently on my other thigh. "Maybe he was just in shadow."
"A shadow that looks like an eyepatch?" I asked as the plane turned and both boys tensed on either side of me.
This was it.
I could have sworn that a metal rod was forcing its way down my spine with how straight I was sitting, everything tense and tight.
"That doesn't make any sense," I said through clenched teeth, my hands finally moving from the armrests to my mate's hands, both of them holding me comfortingly.
"It makes more sense than a shifter wearing an eyepatch," Owen said, both twins tittering in a way that was a bit too much like house cats. I didn't even get a chance to prod them, the plane had jerked to attention, sending us down a tunnel of doom at a speed that I didn't think was possible.
My back slammed into my seat, my stomach into my spine, and that rod tensed with an icy chill that made every muscle ache.
"Holy fuck!" I shrieked so loud several heads turned, my panic spreading as the plane began to lift and I felt like my stomach had fallen through my butt to be left a thousand feet below.
"Don't be so dramatic," Owen teased, his voice harsh even though his thumb was circling over the back of my hand comfortably. "You look like a wuss."
I turned and gave him a look, sticking my tongue out at him as he rightfully deserved. Serves him right for calling out the truth, I did look like a wuss.
Especially considering that once we were airborne the whole experience evened out. The shaky back-flattening panic of takeoff was gone, and now we were gliding through the air... and bumping through it.
"What the hell?" I shrieked again, even more heads turning. At least I was providing some good in-flight entertainment. More than a few people giggled at that.
"Yeah, like you aren't scared of the air bumps," I mumbled at them, even though I smiled and waved at the same old lady who had been openly glaring at us back at the airport.
“It’s called turbulence, Scar," Evan said with a chuckle and a pat on my knee that was a bit too grandfatherly for me. "It will pass. Listen for the seatbelt sign to ding and then you know we are balancing out.”
I watched that sign above us like a hawk until finally the light behind it went off and I heard that ding they’d talked about.
The captain announced something about refreshment services and feeling free to roam about the cabin or to use the lavatory, which was suddenly an absolute necessity. I had somehow ballooned up with the pressure change, and thanks to that and the soda I’d downed earlier in an effort to keep myself awake, I suddenly needed to roam right to the damned bathroom.
“I need to pee,” I said to Owen and he turned his legs sideways to let me out. I stumbled into the aisle like a baby fox figuring out how to use their legs for the first time. That is to say, stumbling head-first into the lap of the woman just across the aisle from me.
Because we hadn't had enough of our sour-faced gossip bitch.
"Sorry," I mumbled, picking myself up and following the signs to the lavatory, which turned out to be the smallest room ever with an accordion door so small that it tried to eat me alive.
Moving around in this thing made me feel like I was being sucked down a tube.
"This must be what that wolf in the crate felt like," I mumbled to myself, dropping trou and plopping myself on the donut-sized toilet.
Ahhh... sweet release.
I sat, pissing into a hole, staring at a door that was inches from my nose, thinking of that damn wolf in his damn cage, with that damn eye patch.
Okay, I didn't know if that part was true or not, but my heart hurt anyway. Maybe I could find a way to burrow down to the cargo hold and set him free, coax him into his human form.
My mind was playing out some kind of epic Tarzan-meets-Jane scenario when the door rattled, the hinge bouncing toward my nose as someone knocked.
A whole plane full of people and I got the one person who didn't understand “occupied”.
"Just a second!" I called jumping to pull my shorts back up as th
e door rattled again. Okay, they didn't understand English either. Whatever, I'll just wash my hands—
Another rattle.
"Bastard rat demon!" I swore and threw the accordion door of death open, ready to tell out the sour-faced woman, and instead came face to face with Owen.
"What are you—?"
"Damn door was stuck!" He announced to no one in particular and muscled his way into the tin can with me, sliding and locking the door behind us.
"What are you doing?" I hissed, as he pressed his finger to his lips. He was lucky I caught his point and whispered. I wanted to yell.
"I'm showing you the fun of flying." Owen was grinning ear to ear, hands on his hips like a success statue. Well, as much on his hips as he could manage. The space in here was so limited that he ended up looking more like a department store mannequin.
"The fun of flying is cramming into a tiny room and staring at each other?" There was nothing fun about this, but Owen kept smiling. Owen kept coming closer. Well, he came a micro-step closer, but when you are already plastered together you don't need much more than that.
"Owen?" My question faded into oblivion as his hand wrapped around my waist, his palm fanning over my ass as he pressed me against him, against the straining bulge on his pants. His lips captured mine as he moaned, as he pressed me against his hardened rod and let it jump a bit.
Tingles of ecstatic danger flared over my abdomen as I realized what he was after. It tingled against my thighs and screamed from the suddenly dripping need I was feeling. I moaned as he did and kissed him harder, my lips dragging over his lower lip as his fingers wiggled under the waist-back of my shorts, his palm warm against my ass.
"We can't have sex on a plane..." I sighed between kisses, between gasps as his finger began to trace the canyons of my ass.
"Ha! That's where you're wrong," Owen said, still kissing me as his hand moved from the heated skin of my ass to the button on my shorts. All of the erotic desire flared, the danger and warning only making all of this more desirable.
I had just said we couldn’t have sex on a plane, and yet here I was fiddling with his button as he fiddled with mine.
"We’re going to join the mile-high club, baby!" I didn't know what he was talking about, but I didn't care.
My tongue darted into the delicious musk of his mouth as my palm pressed over his groin, fingers tangling in the soft hair before they wrapped around the stiff erection that was twitching against my fingers, begging to be released. It was like a caged animal, desperate to find a new hole.
I smiled at the thought, thighs clenching in anticipation of the feeling of his wide cock pressing into me. My hand left his cock and he gave a whimper of loss, tilting his hips toward me as he moaned in a silent plea for me to return.
"You can't fuck me if I'm holding you," I leaned in, whispering in his ear as I finished unzipping his pants. I nibbled at his earlobe, my fox purring and nipping at me in joy as I began to slide his pants over his hips, careful to pull the tight band of his boxers so as not to catch him.
His erection sprang free like a pogo stick, a tiny drop of wet clinging to the tip.
"Mine," I announced, doing my best to shimmy down and lap up the delicious drop of his arousal.
God, he tasted like candy. So sweet, with just a hint of salt. I opened wide, trying to shift so as to take the full length of his delicious staff into my mouth. I wanted to taste him, to swallow every bit of his cum. I didn't even get close.
Owen grabbed my shoulders, lifting me back to standing before whirling me around and bending me over a bit. My hands were flat against the wall above the toilet, Owen's bare butt hitting against the accordion door as I stared into a silver bowl and he began to slide my shorts down, revealing my wet pussy.
I had never been in a more unsexy place, but I had never wanted anything more.
We shouldn't be doing this, people were too close, listening too much. Besides, there had to be something dangerous about having sex on a plane.
That forbidden danger was just making me wetter, however, and he slid my shorts over my hips and down to my knees. He slid his finger down the line of my ass to slide over the wet of my want; I could tell I was the wettest I had ever been.
"Holy fuck," Owen whispered behind me, his fingers pressing against my clit and making me jump. He chuckled darkly and did it again, my spine jerking as I arched my back and fanned myself open to him. He shifted, his feet micro-stepping through the placemat-sized floor as he moved to my side. His hand moved to my back as he pushed me down, folding me in half and opening me up to him further. Well, opening me up to the door. Owen stood on my side now, hand soft on my back as he bent over, as his other hand spread me wide and his tongue ran over my lower lips.
My body tightened, the impossible tingle of need consuming everything now. I clamped my jaw shut, fingers pressing into the wall as I clung to it, trying to keep all of my sounds of delight trapped inside my chest. I didn’t want us to get caught. Something that proved impossible when the warm wet of his tongue lapped at me. Owen pressed the tip of his tongue against my clit as he tasted me, making me jerk as I tried to restrain a moan that came out anyway. I bit my tongue, trying to lock away my howls of pleasure as his tongue darted inside, tasting me as he made a sound of delight that I had never heard from the sand cat.
"Evan was right," he hissed as he licked me, as more low sighs bled from between my clamped teeth. "You taste like wine."
His hands left my pussy as he shifted, leaning over me to cup my breasts through my shirt as the head of his hard width found my opening, as he gripped my breasts and pushed himself in.
I nearly called out. Maybe I did. Owen froze, his cock buried deep as it twitched and swelled inside of me. God, I was going to call out again if he continued to do that.
"Shhh, little fox. Don't let anyone hear you and destroy our fun." Owen's hand wrapped around my mouth as he pressed into me, as I spread and opened for the beautiful intrusion that was making everything spark with lights of color and beauty.
God, he felt so good. Feeling him slide in and out of my pussy, hearing his grunts as he slowly slid in all the way; it was all lights in my eyes, heat against my spine. I tilted my hips, fanning myself open for him and giving him more room to fuck me. Something that he gladly took advantage of, pounding his way into me.
I was sure I was moaning now. Owen's hand was tight around my jaw, his other darting down to spread my legs a bit, to give his cock more room to fill me. To give his fingers perfect access to the throbbing clit that was begging for his touch.
Which he gave.
I didn't fucking care about sound anymore. I moaned and panted into Owen's hand, his own strangled sounds of ecstasy mixing with mine as he moved his cock in and out. His finger slid through my wet to circle over my clit and sent sparks of screaming wonder through my veins. Energy radiated from my core, everything pulsing in a plea for more.
"More."
More.
"More!"
He didn't hold back. He fucked me harder, faster, his cock slamming into me even as three heavy knocks sounded on the bathroom door.
"Hey! What are you doing in there?"
"Fucking my mate," Owen said between a moan, his voice so low I was sure the lady on the other side couldn't hear.
"Come out of there!"
"Naw, I'm going to come in her," Owen said, speeding up his finger against my clit, his cock pushing deeper, deeper.
My pussy tightened, everything tightened as I arched my back and came, as all of those fireworks and tremors boiled over and I screamed. Fucking hell, I screamed.
I screamed as Owen's finger stroked my clit, as his cock twitched inside of me. As he filled me. He moaned and grunted, and I could swear the very walls of the tiny bathroom swelled from the effort.
"Good fox," Owen sighed, kissing my neck as he pulled me up, his finger still petting my clit as he slid out from me, as his cum began to slide down my leg. "Such a good fox."
I
shivered as he touched my clit again, moaning at the sensations that were reignited. Everything around me felt like glitter, and my body felt like nothing more than heat and desire. My boys had made me come before, but never like that.
I was sure the entire plane knew that now.
"You must exit now, or we will call the air marshal." The voice came one last time, and we both hustled into action pulling on clothes and cleaning up cum. That sounded serious.
The door slid open easily that time, the slow-motion revealing the sour-faced old lady and two flight attendants, one of which looked more amused than angry.
"Please find your seats," the furious flight attendant said while speaking through a tight jaw, a vein in her neck popping out.
"Of course," Owen said with half a laugh, grabbing my hand and dragging me down the tiny aisle to Evan who was just another face in the sea of faces that were staring at us.
“Sorry, Scar. The walk of shame it is for us. Though, to be honest, I’m not ashamed at all.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. His sweet gesture didn’t help things. In fact, it earned a gasp from the old lady who had probably listened to the whole goddamned thing.
Oh well, I’d better own it.
I smiled and waved, earning a sneer from the woman.
"Next time you are screaming from an airplane bathroom," Evan whispered in my ear as he leaned into me. His hand slid up my damp thigh, fingers flicking underneath the hem of my far too short shorts with expert ease. He found the button far too quickly and I stiffened, moaning and sagging in my seat as all of that lust-filled need swelled right back to the surface.
One flick of my clit and I was his to control.
“Next time you will be screaming my name," he finished, planting a soft kiss on my cheek as he pulled away, taking his finger with him.
I could only whimper and jerk my hips into the air, begging him to come back. Evan just chuckled and licked the moisture from his fingertip.
7
“Wake up, Scar. We've landed." Someone, Evan I assume judging by the musk and cedar that was wafting over my nose, was shaking me awake. The tiny plane that was taking us to our final destination, rumbling along what sounded like a dirt road.
