Heat – part 4



       Fenir’s body burned like the pits of Wrath Ring, her heat cycle gnawing at her insides with relentless hunger. Days away from the manor on Stolas’ errand had left her drained, her muscles aching, her cock twitching uncontrollably under her pants at the slightest provocation. She needed fuel –something savoury, something to ground her primal urges before she snapped. A smoothie shop in the quieter edges of Pride Ring caught her eye; low foot traffic, fewer hellhounds to tempt her into trouble. Perfect.
       She pushed through the door, the bell jingling like a mocking laugh. The imp behind the counter looked up, bored.
       —What’ll it be?
       —Bacon-flavoured smoothie. —Fenir growled, her voice rougher than usual, tail lashing—.
       It was a weird craving, but her heat made everything taste better with that salty, meaty edge. She could already imagine the thick, blended bliss sliding down her throat.
       The imp blinked.
       —Sorry, mutt. Out of bacon. Try strawberry?
       Fenir’s ears flattened, a low rumble building in her chest.
       —You serious? That’s all I want. —Her claws dug into the counter, splintering the edge—.
       The imp shrugged, unfazed.
       As Fenir turned to storm out, a voice from the back called. 
       —Order for Loona! Bacon smoothie!
       Her head snapped around. There, on the pickup counter, sat a frosty cup labelled “Loona” in messy scrawl. The scent of bacon wafted from it, teasing her nostrils. Without a second thought, Fenir snatched it, the cold plastic soothing her heated palm. She bolted out the door, gulping down the first sip –salty, smoky perfection exploding on her tongue. Worth it.
       —Hey! That’s mine, you thieving bitch!
       Fenir froze mid-stride, turning slowly. A sleek hellhound with silver fur and a punk edge stormed toward her, red eyes blazing. Loona –though Fenir didn’t know her name yet, looked pissed, her tail rigid, fangs bared.
       —Give it back, now!
       Fenir glanced at the cup, smirking.
       —Says ‘Looma’ here. Not you.
       Loona’s eye twitched.
       —That’s a typo, dumbass. Is Loona. L-O-O-N-A. Hand it over before I rip your throat out.
       Fenir tilted her head, taking another deliberate sip.
       —Could be a trick. You see a free drink, make up a name. Nice try.
       The bacon flavour danced on her taste buds, fuelling her defiance. Her heat made her bold, reckless –every nerve singing with untamed energy.
       Loona’s growl deepened, her claws extending.
       —Last chance. Give it, or I’ll beat you so hard you’ll spit bacon for a week.
       Fenir rolled her eyes, lowering the cup as if to comply. Loona reached out –and Fenir yanked it back, tossing it high over Loona’s shoulder in a fake-out. Loona whipped around, eyes tracking the arc, but Fenir was already sprinting, laughing wildly as she scooped the cup mid-air without spilling a drop.
       —Catch me if you can, ‘Loona’!
       —You fuck–! —Loona snarled, giving chase—.
       The streets blurred as Fenir weaved through alleys, gulping the smoothie between breaths. Loona was fast, her lithe form closing the gap, curses flying like bullets. Fenir’s heart pounded, not just from the run, but from the thrill –the scent of another hellhound in heat hitting her like a drug. She scaled a fire escape, clambering onto rooftops, thinking she’d lost her pursuer.
       Panting, Fenir paused on a warehouse ledge, finishing the last slurp.
       —Lost her. Fucking finally.
       But a crash echoed –Loona vaulted from below, slamming into Fenir’s side. They tumbled off the edge, crashing through a skylight in a shower of glass, landing hard amid crates and rubble.
       Fenir shoved Loona off, scrambling for the cup –only to find it crushed under debris, bacon slurry oozing out.
       —No! You fucked it!
       Fury ignited her heat; she lunged, claws slashing. Loona met her blow-for-blow, a whirlwind of fur and fangs. They rolled, punching, grappling –until Fenir pinned Loona beneath her, knees on her arms, smirking down at the writhing hellhound.
       —Gotcha.
       Their breaths came heavy, chests heaving. But it wasn’t exhaustion. Fenir’s cock hardened against Loona’s thigh, her scent –musky, fertile, overwhelming. Loona’s eyes dilated, her hips bucking instinctively.
       —Get off me, you–
       Primal lust overtook them. Fenir crashed her mouth onto Loona’s, tongues clashing in a heated battle. Loona bit her lip, drawing blood, but pulled her closer, claws raking Fenir’s back. Clothes tore away in frenzy –Fenir’s pants shredded, her thick cock springing free; Loona’s top ripped, exposing her perky breasts. She was voluptuous, her tits massive.
       Loona was as hot as they came.
       Fenir flipped Loona onto her back, folding her into a mating press, legs pinned to her shoulders.
       —You want this? —She growled, rubbing her cock against Loona’s dripping pussy—.
       —Fuck you–yes! —Loona snarled, arching up—.
       Fenir thrust in deep, bottoming out in one brutal stroke. Loona’s walls clenched like a vice, hot and slick, her moans echoing off the warehouse walls. Fenir pounded relentlessly, knot swelling, each slam eliciting squelching sounds and Loona’s sharp cries.
       —Harder, you bitch!
       Fenir obliged, hips pistoning, cock stretching Loona wide. Loona came first, squirting around her cock, fluids soaking their fur. Fenir followed, knot locking as she flooded Loona’s womb with hot seed, growling in release.
       But they weren’t done. Loona shoved Fenir onto her back, mounting Fenir’s cock in cowgirl.
       —My turn. —She sank down, riding hard, breasts bouncing, claws digging into Fenir’s chest—.
       Fenir thrust up to meet her, hands squeezing Loona’s ass, pulling her deeper. Loona’s tail whipped, her moans turning feral as she ground her clit against Fenir’s knot. Another orgasm ripped through her, milking Fenir’s cock until she came again, cum overflowing.
       Finally, Loona flipped onto all fours, ass high.
       —We’re not done yet.
       Fenir mounted her from behind, gripping her hips, thrusting savagely. The position let her go deeper than ever, knot battering Loona’s entrance until it popped in, locking them. Loona howled, squirting messily as Fenir rutted through her climax, filling her once more. They collapsed, knotted together, panting in the rubble as muscle memory from Fenir had her root-fuck Loona, like a dog trying to pull out but failing in the process.
       The warehouse lay in dusty silence, broken only by the ragged sync of their breathing and the occasional wet shift as Fenir’s knot slowly deflated inside Loona. Sunlight filtered through the shattered skylight, painting stripes across their sweat-slicked fur. Fenir stared up at the jagged hole in the roof, disbelief settling heavy in her chest like lead.
       She had just fucked a complete stranger. A random hellhound. In a pile of rubble. Over a stolen smoothie.
       Her ears flattened. The guilt hit harder than the fall had –sharp, nauseating. Octavia’s face flashed behind her eyes: those wide, trusting crimson gaze, the way she whispered Fenir’s name like it was sacred. How was she supposed to look her princess in the eye now?
       Fenir groaned, rubbing a paw over her snout as she finally slipped free with a slick pop. Cum trickled out of Loona in thick rivulets, mixing with dust on the concrete. Loona rolled onto her side, chest still heaving, silver fur matted and wild. She watched Fenir for a long moment, red eyes unreadable.
       —You good? —Loona asked, voice rough but quieter than before, no longer the snarling chase, just tired curiosity—.
       Fenir sat up slowly, shoulders slumping.
       —No. —She exhaled, the word heavy—. I’ve got… someone. Back home. And I just–
       She gestured vaguely at the wreckage around them, at Loona’s marked thighs, at her own spent cock still half-hard from residual heat.
       —I don’t know how to tell her this.
       Loona was quiet for a beat, ears flicking. Then she pushed herself up on an elbow, wincing slightly.
       —Shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean for it to go this far. I just wanted my damn smoothie.
       Fenir huffed a humourless laugh.
       —Yeah, well. Me neither. I’ve never lost control like this. Usually I power through heats no problem. Lock myself in my room, jerk off till I pass out, whatever. Done it for years.
       Loona raised a brow, brushing dust from her tail.
       —You never tried the suppressants?
       Fenir blinked.
       —The what?
       —Pills. —Loona said, like it was obvious—. Little white ones you get from sketchy imps in Lust Ring alleys. Knock the heat right out –cramping, mood swings, the whole horny fog. Been on ’em since I was sixteen. Let’s me function without humping every hellhound I smell… Until today, of course…
       Fenir stared, genuinely stunned.
       —Those exist? Nobody ever told me. Thought we were just… supposed to suffer through it.
       Loona snorted.
       —Yeah, they exist. Work great. Until you run out. —She rubbed the back of her neck, looking away—. Ran out this morning.
       They looked at each other, the absurdity hitting at the same time. Loona’s mouth twitched first, then Fenir’s, and suddenly they were both laughing –low, rough, exhausted sounds that echoed off broken crates.
       —Over a fucking bacon smoothie. —Loona wheezed, shaking her head—.
       Fenir wiped her eyes, still chuckling, but the weight returned quickly.
       —So what now? I’ve got my girlfriend waiting, and I reek of random hellhound.
       Loona stood, stretching with a groan, joints popping. She fished Fenir’s phone from the shredded pile of her pants pocket –miraculously intact and tapped at the screen.
       —Here. —She handed it back—.
       A new contact glowed: “Loona” with a string of numbers.
       —Text me. Or call. If you wanna talk. Or… hang out. No pressure.
       Fenir stared at the entry, thumb hovering.
       —You’re serious.
       Loona shrugged, already pulling on what remained of her clothes.
       —Heat makes us stupid. Doesn’t make us monsters. And you weren’t half bad. —A smirk tugged at her lips—. For a smoothie thief.
       Fenir saved it, a strange warmth cutting through the guilt.
       —Fenir. —She said quietly—. My name’s Fenir.
       Loona nodded, like she’d been waiting for it.
       —Loona. —She jerked her thumb toward the warehouse door—. Go home to your girl. Figure it out when you’re ready.
       They parted without ceremony –Loona slipping into the alleys, Fenir heading back toward the manor, the city’s red haze swallowing them both.
       The walk felt endless. Every step dragged the guilt deeper, but the lingering ache of satisfaction warred with it. By the time the Goetia spires rose ahead, Fenir’s stomach was in knots.
       She entered through the servant side gate, ears pricked. The manor was quiet –too quiet for midday. Then she heard it: a distant, rhythmic moan, high and desperate, punctuated by lower, commanding murmurs. Her blood ran cold.
       Octavia.
       Fenir’s claws scraped marble as she bolted down the hall, following the sound to Octavia’s bedroom. The door was ajar. She shoved it open with a bang that rattled the frame.
       Octavia lay sprawled across her ruined bed, feathers splayed, thighs trembling, eyes glazed with exhausted pleasure. Stella straddled her face, grinding slowly, violet feathers fluffed in triumph. Camila knelt between Octavia’s legs, tongue buried deep, talons gripping the princess’s hips as she coaxed another weak squirt from her overworked body.
       Both older ladies froze at the intrusion, then turned with slow, predatory smiles.
       —Welcome home, mutt. —Stella purred, not bothering to dismount—. We’ve been keeping your little toy warm for you.
       Camila licked her beak deliberately, emerald eyes gleaming.
       —So warm. She’s been such a good girl while you were gone.
       Octavia whimpered beneath her mother, gaze finding Fenir’s –lust-clouded but flickering with desperate relief.
       Fenir’s vision tunnelled. Fury roared in her ears, hotter than any heat cycle. Her claws flexed, tail lashing hard enough to crack the air.
       Camila rose gracefully, sauntering over, sliding a possessive arm around Fenir’s shoulders.
       —We were waiting for you, darling. Now that you’re here… we can have some real fun.
       Stella’s smile widened, talons stroking Octavia’s hair.
       —Yes. Join us.
       Fenir went very still beneath Camila’s touch. Her eyes –dark, burning, lifted to meet Stella’s, then Camila’s.
       A slow, dangerous smirk spread across her muzzle.
       She reached back, locked the door with a deliberate click.
       —You wanna fool around? —Her voice was low, velvet over gravel. Heat still simmered in her veins, untamed, insatiable—. Okay.
       Her claws flexed.
       —Let’s play.
       The click of the lock echoed like a starting gun.
       Fenir’s smirk widened into something feral, her eyes glowing with the full, unchecked fury of her heat cycle. Days of pent-up need, the stolen release with Loona, the sight of Octavia trembling and used –it all boiled over into a single, roaring imperative: dominate.
       Stella’s confident purr faltered for the first time. Camila’s arm slipped from Fenir’s shoulders as the hellhound rolled her neck, joints cracking.
       —You two. —Fenir said, voice low and velvet-rough—. Have had your fun.
       She moved.
       Camila barely had time to act before Fenir’s paw clamped around her throat, slamming her back against the ornate wardrobe with enough force to splinter wood. Camila choked out a startled moan, eyes wide, but her thighs clenched instinctively –arousal betraying her even as Fenir’s claws pricked delicate feathers.
       Stella rose from the bed, violet robe falling open, breasts heaving with indignation. —How dare you touch–
       Fenir’s free hand shot out, seizing Stella by the wrist and yanking her forward. The queen stumbled, off-balance, and Fenir spun her, pinning her face-down across the foot of the bed beside Octavia. Stella’s talons scrabbled, but Fenir’s weight settled between her shoulder blades, immovable.
       Octavia watched from the pillows, crimson eyes clearing from their lust-fog, a flicker of awe and relief replacing exhaustion.
       —Fenir…
       —Shh, princess. —Fenir murmured without looking away from her prey—. I’ve got this.
       Her pants hit the floor with a single kick. Her cock –still half-hard from the warehouse, now fully erect and throbbing from residual heat sprang free, thick and knotted, already leaking. Both ladies’ eyes locked on it, pupils blowing wide despite themselves.
       Fenir started with Stella.
       She gripped the queen’s hips, talons digging bruises into pale flesh, and thrust in to the hilt in one brutal stroke. Stella’s regal composure shattered –she screamed, back arching, walls clamping down in shocked pleasure. Fenir didn’t pause. She set a punishing rhythm, hips slamming forward, knot battering Stella’s entrance on every withdrawal.
       —You like using what’s mine? —Fenir growled to Stella, voice dark honey—. Let’s see how you like being used.
       Stella’s talons tore silk sheets. Her moans climbed higher, desperate, nothing like the controlled purrs she’d wielded over Octavia. Fenir reached around, pinching her clit hard, rolling it mercilessly until Stella shattered –squirting violently around the invading cock, body seizing.
       Fenir didn’t stop. She fucked her through it, knot swelling thicker, until it popped inside with a wet, obscene sound. Stella’s second orgasm hit immediately, a silent scream, pussy milking Fenir’s shaft in helpless spasms.
       Only then did Fenir pull out –slowly, deliberately letting Stella feel every ridge drag against oversensitive walls. The queen collapsed forward, trembling, cum and squirt leaking steadily onto the bed.
       Camila had watched the entire display, throat still under Fenir’s loosened grip, thighs slick. When Fenir turned to her, the woman tried for defiance –lifted her chin, smirked.
       Fenir’s answering grin was all teeth.
       She spun Camila, bent her over the dresser, and drove in without warning. Camila’s moan was sharp, almost pained –then melted into a guttural groan as Fenir bottomed out. The hellhound gripped a fistful of emerald feathers, yanking Camila’s head back to meet her eyes in the mirror.
       —Look at yourself. —Fenir snarled, thrusting hard enough to rattle perfume bottles—. Look how easily you break.
       Camila’s reflection showed flushed cheeks, parted beak, eyes glazed. Fenir’s pace was relentless –deep, grinding strokes that dragged her knot over Camila’s g-spot again and again. One hand snaked around to rub furious circles on her clit; the other pinched a nipple until Camila sobbed.
       She came fast, hard, squirting down Fenir’s thighs, legs buckling. Fenir held her up, kept fucking, knotting her on the next thrust. Camila’s second orgasm rolled straight into a third, body shaking uncontrollably.
       Fenir pulled out, leaving Camila slumped against the dresser, gaping and dripping.
       But she wasn’t finished.
       She dragged both exhausted owls to the bed, positioning them side-by-side on their backs, legs spread. Octavia scooted aside, watching wide-eyed as Fenir climbed between them.
       —Hands above your heads. —Fenir ordered—. They obeyed without thinking –bodies too wrecked for resistance.
       Fenir took them together –thrusting into Stella, then Camila, alternating, knot popping in and out with wet, filthy sounds. Their moans overlapped, broken and pleading. She made them watch each other fall apart, made them taste their own arousal from her fingers, made them beg.
       By the time Fenir finally came –roaring, knotting Stella one last time and flooding her until cum overflowed, she had wrung six orgasms from Stella and seven from Camila. Both birds lay boneless, feathers matted, eyes unfocused, chests heaving in shallow, defeated breaths.
       The excessive loads of cum covering them like used tissues.
       Fenir pulled out slowly, cock still half-hard, knot deflating. She looked down at them –queen and duchess reduced to trembling, cum-drenched messes, and felt the heat finally fade, satisfied.
       Octavia crawled to her immediately, wrapping trembling arms around Fenir’s waist, burying her face in fur that smelled of sweat and dominance. Fenir hugged her back fiercely, pressing kisses to midnight-blue feathers.
       —I’m here, Via. —She whispered—. I’m sorry I was gone so long.
       Octavia’s voice was small but steady.
       —You’re here now. —She glanced at her mother and aunt –sprawled and utterly spent and a tiny, wicked smile tugged at her beak.
       —They look… how I felt for days.
       Fenir chuckled, low and warm, nuzzling her.
       —Payback’s a bitch.
       Stella tried to lift a hand, managed only a weak twitch.
       —Mutt… you’ll… pay for…
       Camila just whimpered, eyes closed.
       Fenir ignored them. She scooped Octavia up, carrying her to the untouched chaise in the corner, settling with the princess in her lap. Octavia curled into her, tracing old scars through fur, breathing her in like she was air.
       For a long moment they simply held each other –quiet, tender, the storm finally passed.
       Then Octavia’s talons trailed lower, shy but deliberate, brushing Fenir’s still-sensitive cock.
       —Can we… just us? For a little while?
       Fenir’s ears flicked. She caught Octavia gently, tilting her face up.
       —You sure? You’ve been through hell.
       Octavia’s smile was soft, genuine.
       —I want to feel you. Just you. Gentle.
       Fenir’s expression melted. She kissed her –slow, deep, reverent. Then laid Octavia back on the chaise, covering her body with her own. No rush, no brutality. Just careful thrusts, whispered praises, Octavia’s quiet moans and Fenir’s low growls of devotion.
       When they came together –soft, shuddering, knotted gently. It felt like coming home.
       Afterward, tangled and sated, Octavia drowsed against Fenir’s chest. Fenir stared at the ceiling, Loona’s contact still burning a hole in her phone, guilt a quiet ember beneath the warmth.
       She’d tell Octavia. Soon. When the time was right.
       For now, she held her princess close, listening to Stella and Camila’s faint, exhausted snores across the room, and allowed herself a small, satisfied smirk.
       The heat wasn’t over.
       But for tonight, Fenir was exactly where she belonged.
2


