"That's it, take it, take...ugh. Enough." With a dispassionate grunt, the well-dressed kitsune leant up from that panting girl beneath him and swung himself to the side, using his gloved hands to wrench the tight, virgin cunt free off his knotted member. She fell to the side and looked up at him blankly, her lower muzzle wobbling-- she was an Amurrun, mostly feline in appearance, and by all accounts would have been the perfect match for an influential man like Komori Iruden, who spent a great deal of his spare time paying the parents of those in the slums of Bolas to, well, allow him to relieve himself in their cubs. This should have been another normal day for him...but it was merely another in a string of failures for him as of late. It didn't matter if they were petite, hung, eager or cried out for their mommies and daddies; despite Den's eagerness, despite his hard, aching dick, his mind was always elsewhere. As he ploughed away into tight asses and warm young pussies, all he could think of was a certain Ysoki, a bundle of hope and sunshine in the otherwise dark and dingy corners of the slums. He always thought of him, even at times when it was inappropriate. He touched himself to him every night. Was this what smitten felt like, or was he merely chasing what he now could not have? The very question of why was something that had haunted him since that day. Slowly, the kitsune got to his feet, grabbing his pants as he went to work them up and around his waist as the feline girl scrabbled backwards away from him, using one hand to cover her privates whilst the other covered her mouth, as if she knew not to scream or cry too much-- he wasn't even being particularly harsh with her, though he empathised that it must have been scary, on some level...not like the Ysoki, who had been so receptive, so innocent...he pushed the thought from his mind and turned, striding across the room back towards the shaggy little flap of cloth that crudely served as a door. Outside, the girl's parents stand, worried, fretting over themselves, though it might be more prudent to say that the father was holding the mother back from barging in and attacking him. When he appeared, they froze on the spot and looked away. "Is it done?" The father asked darkly, his gaze turned down, his tail coiled tightly; he was looking for a fight. Den, however, passively grunted. "The deed was not finished...but your funds you shall have. Enjoy your new life. My associate will be here momentarily." Den didn't so much as look in their direction as he spoke, and with a sour expression he trudged, leaving their home and heading deeper into the slums. He could hear the parents sputtering after him, unsure whether to thank him or question if their daughter wasn't good enough, but he wasn't going to give them a response anyway. He simply wasn't in the mood for the post-sex small talk. He was, however, true to his word-- though he didn't see it himself, he was sure his right-hand bodyguard and associate, Singe, had dropped off the coin for him once Den was well and truly out of sight. The kitsune walked, his mind a clouded mess of thoughts, regrets, and pent-up sexual frustration, when he passed a nearby alleyway. A shadowy figure caught his eye, but he knew who it was without even looking. "You seem troubled, master." A lithe, lanky Ysoki spoke and immediately bowed to one knee at the same time, keeping to the shadows. A dark cloak covered almost all of his features save for the brief glint of his two front feet and whiskered snout, as well as his bandaged paws. "It's your job to do as you're told, not to question me," Den snapped, before pausing and letting out a long sigh. "I am fine. She merely bored me." Singe knew this wasn't the case, and Den knew that Singe knew, but both skirted around the confrontation of it, out of respect for one another. The Ysoki watched as his master trudged onwards, and after some time, he passed by a familiar house, one that belonged to the current apple of Den's eye. As Singe watched from the shadows, it was clear that his master possessed an emptiness, for he lingered and slowed near the now-abandoned hovel of the Ysoki boy and his father, whom had since moved on to the Domestic Quarter of the city, where they now lived. Den hung around for far too long, simply watching it, as if hoping they might stroll out to greet him. "Singe." The Ysoki appeared beside his master, bowing his head immediately, ready and willing to carry out his commands. "...Return to your normal duties for today," Den sighed, pulling his watch from his chest pocket to check the time. "I've a business meeting to attend in the Upper Quarter." Perhaps selling some jewels might get his mind off things-- that was what the both of them were thinking, for one reason or another. Singe grunted his agreement and immediately took his leave, as Den had requested, whilst the kitsune made his way back to the entrance of the slums, where a discreet carriage had been waiting for him all that time, paid handsomely of course. It was true that he had a business meeting to attend, but it would also be absurdly boring; at least at that time, he could think about other things. The meeting is about what he expected. He travelled to the Upper Quarter to go to a popular jewellery boutique frequented by the regency and occasionally visited by dukes of far-off kingdoms, and they were hoping to broker some kind of trade route between Den's several gemstone mines. Of course, this business was also abundantly aware of Den's monopoly on the jewellery trade, and so negotiating a good deal would be beneficial for the two of them. From Den's perspective, they wanted a foothold in the market, but from his perspective, he wanted to swallow them up. After some negotiating, they settled on Den receiving a percentage of sales profits in exchange for the supply of some of his surplus gemstones-- even the ones that didn't go to his own boutiques were just as valuable as the others. In fact, the demand for expensive jewellery was at an all-time high...it was the makers that were in short supply. Regardless, a deal was struck, with an inevitable future plan to acquire the boutique outright some time in the future, though only the kitsune was privy to that information. He returned to his mansion in luxurious Hightown sometime around sundown, predominantly because he'd taken a detour...or rather, he'd been invited to lunch by the boutique owner, who attempted to win him over. He was cute for an Iruxi, a lizardfolk, and there was very clear intent in what he wanted, but Den wasn't too interested; at least, not when many of his interests were in those much younger than him. He adjourned to his study almost immediately, as that's where he often took his food, especially when he had paperwork to sign and finances to ruminate over; it was fun messing around in the slums, but he had to work, too. What he wasn't expecting, however, was for someone to knock on his door and approach his desk, least of all Singe, who by that point should have been out patrolling the mansion and speaking to the security staff-- that's what he normally did around this time. Instead, the Ysoki wordlessly placed a parchment on the kitsune's desk. Den fixed Singe with a stare for a moment before he slowly reached out to take it. "I'll accept any punishment, master." Singe spoke candidly, which instinctively put Den on edge, but he turned his attention to the parchment first. As soon as he read the top, he was livid...and yet he was desperate to read. Unbeknownst to Den, which he was now just finding out upon reading, Singe had spent the day gathering information on the young Ysoki that the kitsune had been so smitten with, Rush. They'd been living in the Domestic Quarter for several weeks, nearing on 2 months, and it had apparently not been going well. Rush was struggling at the academy he was now enrolled in with all the other lower to middle-class students, and was having to take remedial classes to catch up on his education...which was going poorly, as Singe's report stated he was being tutored by someone unskilled in dealing with impoverished children who had come from the slums. To make matters worse, he was far and away different from the vast majority of his peers, and he was struggling to find a connection to anyone, let alone make a friend. All of this should turn him towards his father, which would have been fine...were his father in any position to be supportive. Rush's father, Sketch, was apparently troubled by his own demons. Rush was looking for his father's comfort, but Sketch was apparently too in his own head to be a loving dad. Den didn't doubt he was struggling; the emotional turmoil one must feel after selling out and even joining in on deflowering your own son for the coin to live a new life must be heartbreaking, potentially more so depending on their mental state before the act. Sketch had always seemed a bit tightly wound and overprotective, so there was no doubt he was likely struggling with processing how that felt. If Den were to put himself in the Ysoki's shoes, he imagined that Sketch might be blaming himself for his son's current suffering...but isn't entirely wrong, of course. Because of this, according to Singe's report, Sketch had taken to excessive drinking to block out his emotions, and that's made it impossible for him to find employment-- frankly, that shouldn't have been difficult, given the Ysoki's stocky frame and penchant for manual labour. There's no doubt his volatile mental state and his attitude towards his son is jeopardizing everything he threw away his dignity to obtain...which Sketch is no doubt aware of, Den is certain. For a worrying length of time, Den was silent. He said nothing to Singe, nor did he look up from the parchment. His eyes were blankly searching, but his mind was alight with ideas, with concern, with worry...he didn't know why he felt this way. He'd never formed much of an attachment to any of the cubs he'd relentlessly fucked before, and yet he found himself latched onto his Ysoki, desperate to see his safety guaranteed...but why was that? Much as he wanted to know the answer to that question, there were more pressing matters. Without another word, he rose from his chair, dropping the parchment to the desk in front of him, and rounded the table. He didn't so much as look at Singe as he strode past him and out of the room. Singe had no idea where he was going, but he knew better than to follow-- he had that look in his eyes that said he shouldn't be messed with at that moment. Singe had been on the wrong side of that once; he knew not to do it again. Den stepped out of his mansion in the slowly dimming light of the day, his expression filled with determination. He commanded for a carriage at once, the destination: The Domestic Quarter. ---------- x x x ---------- "Dad? Can we talk?" Perhaps it was a bad idea to probe his father at that time. He was slumped over against the kitchen table, having somehow managed to throw together some kind of mixture of meat and cheese. There was no special occasion, and he didn't stand on ceremony when offering it, either-- frankly, they couldn't really afford meat, and this was a grisly, bad cut, but Rush was happy his father still cooked for him. That's just all he did, though; cook, drink, and keep quiet. When prompted, Sketch merely grunted and turned to his bottle, deliberately moving in his seat to face away from his son, even if only slightly. Rush cast his gaze down and quietly looked down at his food. "I, um, I struggled again in school today. I don't think the tutor's very good...and no-one would talk to me." Rush mumbled between bites, trying to continue the conversation. When Sketch didn't answer, he continued. "It just...makes me sad." He didn't accentuate the words, but he felt like the intention was clear. He wanted anything from his father; a hug, some words of encouragement, a pat on the shoulder. At this point, he'd even take just a glance in his direction, but Sketch didn't even respond to his remark, taking a swig of the whisky bottle clutched in his hand. Rush dejectedly looked down at his food, picking a few more bites of the meat before he slipped from his chair, mumbling his thanks. He didn't know what else to say; he felt like he had tried everything he could. His father didn't even go after him when he went to the door, nor did he call his name as the young Ysoki, only 8-years-old, stepped out into the cold night. Rush needed to think, to understand, to empathise...but there was only so much his young brain could comprehend. He didn't dislike what the strange kitsune had done to him; it had felt good in some ways, and hurt in others, but Rush was surprisingly more mature than he looked: he understood shortly after they moved to the Domestic Quarter why he'd had to do those things with the kitsune, and what the connotations of it mean. What he didn't entirely understand was his father's reaction-- he thought he'd be jumping for joy, but he was more miserable than when they were in the slums. He wouldn't mind if he found their wealthy benefactor again and could get his help...he knew their money wouldn't last forever, and whilst it might be overwhelming to experience those things again, he was willing to endure it. The young Ysoki ruminated over those thoughts so extensively that he didn't even realise he was being followed, and badly at that. Somewhere further down into the Domestic Quarter, a pair of rough, drunken men had been thrown out of a bar after causing too much of a ruckus, and were sluggishly making their way down the cobblestone path back towards the slums, itching for a hole to fill or some entertainment to keep them occupied for the night. Neither man was thinking about anything in particular, nor were their tastes picky, but both got the same idea when they saw a wandering boy all by his lonesome, out in his own thoughts, blind to the world. By the time Rush passed by an alleyway not that far from his home-- a handful of minutes walk, at that-- it was already close to too late. A large and aggressive hand reached from the dark out to try and grab the Ysoki's arm, but Rush was surprisingly dexterous, and he managed to snap his shoulder away just in time. The growl of frustration from within the darkness lights a fire in Rush, and every instinct tells him to run. He did just that, turning and bolting down the cobbles as fast as his little legs could carry him. It was easy to tell how close they were to him, for their boots and paws thudded on the cobbles harder and heavier than his own. Unfortunately, Rush was at a disadvantage; he didn't know the Domestic Quarter well, and though he ran fast, he took a wrong turn. One screeching careen into an alley led him to a dead end, with no way out but back the way he came. As he turned to try and do just that, he found himself easily cornered in the darkness of the alcove, squashed between two dark, quiet stone houses. "Ya put up quite the chase, boy," One of them snorts, stepping closer as the other follows along behind. "Worked up quite a sweat." Rush's heart hammered in his chest, his eyes wide and wild with fear as the smell of alcohol from the two men overpowered his senses. In the dim light he could kind of make them out-- he was a little unsure if the shorter stature one behind the first was an Ysoki like him or a Vanara, essentially a monkey, but the one is front of him is almost definitely a Kholo, a hyena-like anthropomorphic species with a telltale hunched figure and wide jaws. He could tell just from the posture and the gait, not to mention he'd seen a few around the city-- they were all kind of similar in shape. He was the one doing the talking, and those snorts indicated a heavy jaw and a lot of booze. "Get over here, you little whore." The other spoke intimidatingly, and the shining glint of metal caught Rush's attention; the smaller one, which he now recognised to be a Vanara as they passed under a sliver of moonlight, brandished a short dagger, carefully polished to be as shiny as possible. Rush's knees trembled; he couldn't approach, nor could he run, for the dagger had him paralysed in fear. The Kholo grunted his irritation and stepped forward, putting a meaty paw on Rush's shoulder and wrenching him forward. "Fuck, this kid looks like he's about 10." The Vanara remarked, using his free hand to brush the back of it against the young Ysoki's cheek, making him violently tremble. "Poor thing's gonna piss himself." "If he doesn't do it now, my cock'll do it for 'im." The Kholo vulgarly responded, his claws raking down the front of Rush's tunic and down towards the tiny cloth shorts, that ended just above the boy's knees. With a pinch of his digits and a yank, they came away from the Ysoki's hips with ease, dropping to the floor. The Kholo laughed greedily as his large paw came to grope lewdly at the cub's package, their thick fingers rolling around his small dick and tiny balls, before he hungrily moved to the hem of the boy's tunic, grabbing and roughly yanking them upwards, trying to get it up and over his head. Rush pleaded with them to let him go, but the Venara brandished the dagger and waved it dangerously close, which did wonders in getting the 8-year-old to lift his arms obediently. Had he not, he was sure Kholo would have ripped his tunic to shreds, just to get a taste of what was beneath. The man's brutish hands scooped up the Ysoki by his hips, lifting him up off the ground. For an 8-year-old, it was a terrifying experience to be up so high, especially when all he could see was the Kholo's awaiting maw...thankfully for his immature brain, he wasn't going to get eaten alive-- instead, that wide jaw dipped and nudged between the rat's legs, forcing him to spread them so he could explore what lay between them. His wide, wet tongue slipped out and slathered around the boy's package, but delved more purposefully down. The Kholo groaned with satisfaction as his wet tongue slipped messily between Rush's young cheeks, and the Ysoki gripped his hands around the man's furred forearms, his face a mixture of confusion and surprise, intermingled with fear. He didn't know what to think or feel-- this wasn't like it was with the kitsune. These men weren't gentle, and they weren't going to stop if he asked...though, he had a feeling that the fox wouldn't have either. That tongue smeared and probed around his young button, rolling around in sloppy circles until his cheeks were sticky with spit, that threatened to drip off his fur and onto the cobbles beneath them. The Kholo might have looked greedy and hungry to taste more, but he only lingered there for a little while and inevitably withdrew his head, lowering the boy and flipping around in his meaty mitts, until his back faced the hyena's body, and Rush's head were further in the direction of the Vanara, the boy's feet barely touching the floor. The 8-year-old looked up just in time to see the glint of that dagger hovering above his head, before his gaze travelled down and his eyes widened at the sight of a cock swinging in the air in front of him, relatively uniform in shape with some kind of skin rolled over the end of a rounded tip. "Hold on tight, bitch," the Vanara jeered, his free hand grabbing the small tuft of fur atop Rush's head and forcing his head upwards and closer towards his cock. "You're gonna need it." Rush didn't need telling twice, his arms trembling as he raised his hands to hang onto the thick fabric of the man's top-- it felt like a mixture of linen and cloth, coarse under his fingers yet durable. It reminded him of the slums. Alcohol spread across his nostrils as his head was pushed towards the Vanara's crotch, the monkey shuffling forwards to push his cock further towards the cub at the same time. It swung to the side, sliding along Rush's cheek, before it slipped upwards to rest right along the boy's head between his eyes. The Ysoki's nose and muzzle were pulled under the member, pressing into the crease between the base of the man's cock and his hefty nuts, where he was kept there for a moment, for reasons he didn't completely understand at that moment. It became clear, however, when he felt his feet lift off the floor again, and a thick turgid mass started to rub and press against his behind, covered in that same coarse cloth. A hand withdrew from his hip, the other easily holding his light body up, and moments later that fabric was removed, replaced by the pulsing heat of the Kholo's length, rubbing up and down the Ysoki's tiny behind. His young, 3-foot frame was going to make it impossible for them to even force their way in, at least that's what he thought...but as Rush squirmed, turning his head away from the Vanara and kicking out his legs, it became clear they were going to attempt it regardless. "Look at that tiny fucking ass..." The Kholo slovenly remarked, his hand returning to Rush's hip before he stepped backwards so he could glide his cock along the rat's behind until the tapering tip of his knotted dick slipped and drooped, smearing and pushing between Rush's cheeks. "You're gonna be so fucking tight..." "Hey, eyes up here, slut." The Vanara hissed dangerously, and Rush relented, turning his attention, or at least his muzzle, back towards the cock in front of him. His muscles clenched as he felt the narrow end of the Kholo's cock smearing and rubbing between his spit-sticky cheeks, making a lewd, noisy sound as it rubbed back and forth, no doubt spreading more substance against his behind before, after a handful of moments, the hyena put more effort into finding his mark, nudging until he could feel Rush's young hole squeeze and flex against his tip. The Ysoki squeaked, his eyes welling up with fright as the Kholo roughly grunted and pushed forward, the Ysoki's ring immediately stretching to accommodate him, despite Rush's clenching muscles. The 8-year-old cried out as the cock forced its way in, stretching him far more than the kitsune even did, and with a brutish push the man sank himself impossibly deep in a single thrust. The two men laughed amongst themselves, making jeering remarks to Rush about the tightness of his hole, and how easy it was to take it, but Rush's brain had become foggy, his vision blurred by tears. He blubbered, albeit quietly, but he didn't get much chance to plead for his life; the Vanara had stowed his dagger and cupped the boy's chin with his now free hand, withdrawing the other from the boy's head to angle his cock downwards, smearing it across Rush's muzzle until the boy opened up-- it didn't take much coaxing of threats to get him to do it. The Vanara sighed with bliss as the head of his length slipped into that mouth and dragged along Rush's tongue, and with a forceful push the monkey shoved his cock far into the cub's throat, plunging deep and immediately cutting off his air flow. Rush tried to suck in a breath and failed, and in turn his throat spasmed, clenching around that member as he tried to instinctively gulp. His eyes widened even further, if that were even possible, and his innards clenched around the Kholo's cock as his body resisted, his fingers curling tightly around the hold he had on the Vanara's clothes. He struggled to keep himself upright, struggled to take their cocks...everything was difficult, but the men didn't care; to them, he was nothing but a couple of holes and a warm body. The Kholo started to thrust first, gruffly grunting under his breath as he slid back and pounded deep into Rush's behind, his member managing to shove in around halfway or even three-quarters at most, though the Ysoki had no way of knowing that. The 8-year-old was far more focused on the pain that he felt from being forcefully fucked, and the fact he couldn't breathe; thankfully, one of those was solved relatively quickly, as the Vanara inevitably pulled back from his throat, granting him just a few moments to suck in a few panting breaths before the monkey plunged forwards again, murmuring expletives under his breath as he sank back into that throat, blocking off any chance for Rush to breathe once more. To be assaulted from both sides so easily was difficult, and Rush was sure that if the men tried hard enough they might even meet in the middle...but as it was, all he could do was endure, his muscles flexing and squeezing in waves around their combined thrusting cocks, his legs dangling off the floor as his toes curled and uncurled with each spike of pain and strain of discomfort. Of the two of them, it was the hyena who sped up the quickest, their hips starting to pump and thrust with reckless abandon as their pleasure grew. He cared little for how Rush felt, and that was clear in the way he fucked him; his thrusts were rough and purposeful, each one determined to sink deeper than the last until the thick, bulbous knot mashed against Rush's squeezing ring. He was far too tight to ever take that knot, and Rush had a feeling the Kholo was venting his dissatisfaction at that, whilst still trying to get his rocks off. The Vanara, meanwhile, was content to continually block Rush's way of breathing, each time sliding out and giving the boy just barely enough time to suck in a breath before he plunged in again. Over time, it made Rush dizzy and light-headed the less oxygen he got, but neither one of them seemed to care. Luckily for Rush, he wasn't going to have to endure their rape for too long, for both men were wildly drunk, and also clearly pent-up. "That's it, fucking take it, you little..." The Kholo groaned, pushing his hips forward fiercely and growling with frustration as his knot kneaded against Rush's spasming ring, the young Ysoki gripping as tightly as his tiny body would allow him. He wriggled in their grip, not so much defiant as he was terrified and in pain, and the Kholo tightened his hands around Rush's sides, his claws threatening to dig into flesh. The man thrust faster, huffing under his breath, his balls swinging and slapping against Rush's tiny package; all three of them knew he was going to cum. The Vanara, comparatively, took his time, but he was evidently faster than before, and was giving Rush less and less time to breathe with every other thrust, his chest heaving and his breath quickening with the exertion of his pumping hips against the boy's muzzle, balls pressing firmly against his chin as he forced the 8-year-old to take it all. With a sudden grunt and a strained snarl, the Kholo pushed in, grabbing Rush's hips and yanking him hard against his crotch, trying desperately to get the rat's ass to slide over his thick, swollen knot, but no amount of tugging could make it possible. With a sharp exhale and a groan of mixed frustration and pleasure, the hyena's grip lessened slightly as Rush felt warmth flooding his innards, spurting upwards and strewing around his stomach. He heard the wet splatters of cum as it shot from around the sides of the Kholo untied cock, splattered onto the cobbles between his feet, but the hyena merely groaned and rode out his pleasure as Rush whimpered, forced to take it-- he was sure he could feel his belly swelling a little, but all it took was a squeeze to cause more to trickle out of him. The Vanara was getting close as well, for his thrusts became mixed with irregular pumps that inevitably lapsed into short and rapid bucks against Rush's muzzle, keeping almost all of his cock inside the Ysoki's spasming throat. Tears rolled down the 8-year-old's cheeks as the man mercilessly fucked his mouth, his young ears forced to listen to the combined moans of the two men intermingled with the lewd, vulgar squelches of the spit-slickened cock in his mouth, pushed and forcing its way down his stretched throat over and over until, with his own final, more satisfied sigh, the monkey plunged in and came right down the boy's throat. Rush didn't even get to taste it, thankfully; the salty load pumped and shot straight down into his stomach, the cock pulsing in his throat. Rush's vision grew blurrier and darker, his eyelids drooping as his heart rate began to slow. He felt so tired all of a sudden... "Hey, pull out, you fuckin' idiot," He heard someone argue, but their voice was so far away. "I don't want a dead kid on my hands." "Fine." Suddenly, a suction of air replaced the pocket where the Vanara's cock withdrew, and Rush sucked in a breath, his survival instincts clutching at the breath of life. He gasped and then violently coughed, hanging his head as the Vanara stepped back, slapping away the boy's clutching hands. The Kholo, too, started to pull back, sliding out of the boy's ass until, with a wet squelch and a pop, the tapered end slipped free. The splatter of cum that followed told Rush all he needed to know about how much the man had cum, but he didn't even think about that at the moment; he continued to hack and cough, gasping for air as the men unceremoniously dropped him to the cobbles. Pain shot up his palms and knees as he landed on all fours, and the 8-year-old immediately rolled to the side, not caring for the fact he was lying in the cum of the man who'd molested him. He covered his mouth to suppress the coughs as he looked up at the two men, who were already starting to talk amongst themselves. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying at first until he started to focus. "How much you think he'll fetch?" "Fetch? Why fetch?" The Varana quipped. "I say we take him home. You can try out that throat for yourself..." "Not a bad idea." The Kholo grunted, and his comrade squatted down, reaching for his dagger again. "Don't move or make a sound, you hear? You're ours now, kid." The Vanara urged, his mouth stretching into a wide grin, though Rush couldn't see it. The Ysoki started to blubber and choke back sobs, aware of what a grim and twisted fate might await him if he were to be taken by these two men. They were drunk now, but how cruel could they be if they were sober? Just the mere thought had him whimpering and stammering, begging to be let go, but neither male heard him...or if they did, they didn't care. They simply laughed amongst themselves, amused by the potential for a tight hole for the next handful of months, perhaps even years. Neither of them even saw the glimmer of orange light at the end of the alley. Rush didn't either-- not until a blast of fire hit the Vanara in the back, sending him careening towards the wall that Rush had tried to scamper up in his escape before. "What the--?!" The Kholo snarled, ready for a fight, but he halted when he stared at a figure in the distance. Rush rolled, weakly trying to push himself up to see what was happening, but all he could make out was the shining light of fire in someone's hand, illuminating a figure he couldn't recognise from that distance. That bright light was getting bigger and bigger...no, it was coming towards them. Rush bowed his head just in time for the Kholo to jump out of the way, flames blasting the brick wall mere inches from the winded Vanara, who was desperately putting out his singed fur. "Fuckin' sorcerer! I'm outta here!" The Kholo, with impressive strength, leapt from his standing position and reached for the lip of the wall, pulling and vaulting himself over it. The Vanara, now at a disadvantage and without his comrade, didn't see the benefit in sticking around either-- like Rush did moments ago, all he felt was fear. The monkey dexterously clambered up the wall and vaulted over the end, and Rush laid there as he heard their receding footsteps, his eyes glued to the approaching individual. They had saved him from a potential lifetime of misery. He raised a hand to wipe his eyes from tears so he could make out the hero: bright purple clothes, multiple swishing tails and a concerned, yet familiar, expression. No sooner had he wiped the tears away did they welled up again, and this time he couldn't hold them back. A loud, truly emotional wail rings out through the alley, and it's quickly muffled by the embrace of a worried, influential benefactor. "There, there...it's okay. I'm here." He's mostly injured, save for his hole, but it's obvious to see he's terrified, relieved and emotional all at the same time. Den didn't need to ask if he's alright, and frankly, he doesn't get the chance. Rush clung to the front of his jacket and pulled himself into a loosely seated position, mostly assisted by Den's arm holding him upright, helping to avoid him sitting on his sore behind. "I was...I was looking for you, I wanted to find you, I--" Rush had to choke back a sob as he spoke, and it was particularly difficult to make out his words amidst his immature wailing. "I hate it here. I hate my home and I hate school and I miss my dad and I--" "Shh, it's okay." Den murmured quietly, squeezing him tight. His heart sank at hearing the news-- learning of it in a report was one thing, but hearing it straight from the emotional mouth of an 8-year-old was another. Rush sniffled and sobbed against his jacket before he pulled back again. "I wanted to find you, t-to ask for your help. Dad keeps d-drinking and drinking and he isn't working," He continued, wiping his eyes as he cried. "I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do..." "You are a child. This is not your problem," Den assured him with the best soothing tone he could muster, but deep inside he was angry. "I'll make it better. Come." Without asking for his consent, Den loosened his arms, pausing for a moment as Rush clung to him, not wanting him to let go, before he eventually slid his arms down and scooped under the naked boy's legs, cupping his back with the other arm. He rose, carrying him bridal style, and the fragile, young boy curled up in his arms, cuddling into his front. Den's heart melted and for a moment he could do nothing but stand there and stare, before he turned and carefully walked down the alley, trying to keep his movements steady. He could hear, and even feel, the drips of cum leaking from the boy's hole...it'd probably be like that for a while. Den didn't need Rush to explain where he lived, for the report gave a clear indication. Thankfully, Rush didn't question how he knew, and after a couple of minutes of walking-- the boy had not run far when being pursued-- he found himself at the tip of the street, with the Ysoki's home somewhere halfway down. He carefully and slowly made his way down it, but he didn't have to go very far to find just the person he wanted to see. From the lit door of a single home, Rush's home, an adult Ysoki staggered out into the cold, his breath fogging up in the chill. He turned on the spot and immediately locked eyes with Den. He looked from him, down to his son and back again. It was clear he'd only just noticed his son had left and was missing. The concern and relief that washes over the Ysoki's face is clear, but it's quickly replaced by anger when his intoxicated brain puts two and two together. Den can already feel what's coming, and as he steps forward, Sketch starts to speak. "Stop," Den firmly demands, which shuts the Ysoki up almost immediately. "Do you have any idea the kind of hell you've put your son through in the past weeks? I thought you a responsible individual, not a drunkard without a copper to his name." "Shut your yap, fox," Sketch accentuated the last word with a sneer. "What, one fuck wasn't enough for you, you had to steal him away in the night to get your fill?" "How dare you insinuate such a thing. I was in the midst of--" He paused, taking in a deep breath; he was better than this. "Inside. Now." Sketch was dumbfounded for a moment, glaring at the Kitsune with unbridled fury and indignation, before he took a swig of the bottle still in his hand, turning it entirely upside-down to drain the contents. He turned and slouched towards the door to his home, stepping inside, and Den quickly followed suit. He shut the door behind him with some effort and then turned, giving Sketch a single, withering gaze before he stepped through in the hallway leading into the rooms beyond. The house was small and cramped, so it didn't take long for him to find what was meant to be Rush's room, which he noted was probably the largest one in the house. He placed the boy down on the bed, sliding the covers out from under him so he could put it over his body; the Ysoki was barely awake, and once his head hit the pillow, he closed his eyes, resting. Den left him there; he didn't need to see the conversation he'd have with Sketch. "Look..." Sketch began as he approached the Ysoki from across the room, stepping away from the hallway that led to the other rooms, including where Rush was staying. He didn't get much of a chance to speak at first, predominantly because immediately the man started to argue with him. "Listen here you pervy fuck--" Sketch immediately began with a snarl, baring his teeth in a drunken, uncharacteristic way. Immediately, Den's hackles raised and his anger brewed even higher than before. He was pissed. "No, you listen," He emphasised that second word with as much firmness as he could muster without being too harsh. "I am fully cognizant of the fact I put you in a difficult position, but this is your responsibility. Your son is going through an extremely emotional time in his life and he's looking for support, and what do I hear? That his father's taken to drink?" "The fuck's it to you?!" Sketch argued. "You got your fill. You...took what dignity we had for all that coin. Why you nosin' in on our lives, huh?!" "Because I can just as easily remove what limited funds you've had. I can run you dry if you don't get your act together," Den retorted, but it was true, he didn't know why he was caring so much. "You should be there for your son, taking care of him, making sure he's okay. He's struggling in school-- I assume he's told you?" "...Yes," Sketch looked away for a moment, down at the bottle in his hand. "But again, it's none of your damn business! I can look after my kid just fine without your help!" "Clearly not, if this is what I see when I come to visit...and your son...poor Rush..." He cast his gaze to the side. "To find him in that position..." "Yeah, a position for you to exploit him," Den still hadn't had a chance to explain how he'd found Rush the way he did, but Sketch was constantly talking over him. "And I'm sick of you buttin your nose in. It's because of you we're in this mess, because of you that he's struggling so much." "Me? You--" "You're a fucking pervert and a molestor, and you took advantage of my weakness, of HIS kindness!" Sketch raised his voice more and more, getting more agitated over time. "I have to drink because of you! Because I can't get this shit out of my head!" "What in th--" "Because of you, I have to live with the fact that I'm attracted to my son!" He roared the words out, far louder than he should have, and for a moment there was a stunned silence between them. Den didn't know what to say; when he'd read the report that Singe had given him on the Ysoki, he hadn't come to the conclusion that he was getting turned on by his own kid. In fact, of all the things he thought of, that was closer to the bottom of the list...but once he'd learnt of it, it suddenly all made sense. Before him, Sketch huffed and panted, as if he'd just exerted himself with some strenuous activity, his body shaking with either rage of dismay or something else entirely. His expression was hard to read. After a few moments, the adult Ysoki turned, slamming the bottle down on the table behind him, so hard that it might have smashed, if he weren't careful. "...Sketch..." Den began, reaching out a hand, but perhaps that was the wrong thing to do. As soon as the kitsune's hand touched the Ysoki's shoulder, the man whirled around, raising his fist. Den caught a glimpse of those curled fingers before he was socked squarely in the jaw. He hadn't had a punch like that since he was a teenager, so the blow immediately threw him off balance, and his legs didn't respond in time. He tumbled to the floor, caught by surprise, but the Ysoki didn't let him, reaching down to grab him by the collar of his luxurious jacket. Thankfully, he didn't strike him again, somehow managing to curb his temper enough to haul the kitsune towards the door where, with a grunt and a shove, he threw him outwards. The kitsune went tumbling into the dirt, but quickly composed himself as he fell, falling into a less embarrassing position that didn't involve him lying there in a heap. Sketch glared at him, parted his muzzle to speak, but thought better of it-- with a snarl, he turned and slammed the door behind him, leaving Den in the cold of the night. Sketch stood at the door, staring down at the floor, his body trembling with anger and adrenaline. He didn't even hear the shuffle of paws against the floor until his ears twisted to his son's weak voice. "D-Dad, what's going on?" Rush asked quietly, and Sketch looked over at him for a moment, in his nakedness, before averting his eyes. "Just go to bed." He mumbled. Rush hesitated, but inevitably did as he asked, his eyes sad and full of longing. Outside, Den brushed down his coat, getting to his feet, and he lingered by the door of the house for a moment before he breathed a sigh and turned, heading back down the street from whence he'd come. A carriage pulled up the distance to wait for him. He was crestfallen, but a kitsune like him didn't get to where he was just by being dejected. His mind was already brewing up a plan. ---------- x x x ---------- Rush awoke sometime in the late morning, closer to the peak of the sun's rise. He would have been in school today normally, but his father must have let him sleep in. It was hard to get out of bed; as soon as he'd awoke, the memories of the night before came flooding back. The grabbing hands, the pain, and the sense of fullness...the Ysoki quietly rubbed his stomach before he slid out of bed, wincing a little from the discomfort that, thankfully, was already beginning to fade the more he limbered himself up. He stepped across the room towards the drawers opposite his bed and found some clothes inside, which he pulled on over his lithe, boyish frame before he headed into the main area of the house. As expected, his father hadn't slept the night...or if he had, he must have done it at the table, for there were several additional bottles sitting beside his slumped frame. Sketch didn't raise his head as Rush entered the room, staring down at the neck of the latest whiskey bottle clutched tightly in his grip as the other hand covered his eyes, cupping around his forehead. "M-Morning, dad." Rush mumbled, but his father didn't respond. The Ysoki shuffled forward and glanced at the bottles, then back to his father. He had seen that Sketch looked at him, if only for a moment, before he turned away. "Are you okay?" Rush asked, and he could see his father wince slightly from the question, as if the very thought wounded him. The 8-year-old reached out to touch his father's arm, but Sketch pulled away. "I'm fine." He spoke quickly, clearing his throat before pushing his body upwards, heaving himself onto his feet. "I'm going for a walk." "Dad--" Rush began, but Sketch avoided him by stepping around his lithe frame, careful not to knock him over and also careful not to touch him, either. Rush immediately felt the tears well up in his eyes at the rejection and he reached out, grabbing the hem of the older Ysoki's tunic. Sketch pulled away, or at least tried to, but the boy held on tight, fingers curling fiercely around the cloth. "Let go." Sketch demanded, pausing for barely a breath when he noticed his son sniffling. He pulled again and this time the boy's grip wasn't strong enough; he wrenched the fabric free and took a step back, watching as the young Ysoki bowed his head and looked down at the floor, hands fidgeting by his stomach. Sketch took in a deep breath and turned, trying to push the agony of avoiding his son to the back of his mind. It was for the best-- he couldn't face him, or himself, right now. He barely made it one step before a sudden weight pushed into his back, taking him by surprise. Like Den the night before, his legs couldn't respond in time, and he barely had the chance to get his hand out in front of him as he tumbled forward, hitting the floor with a dull thud. He grunted from the pain of it, and rolled, turning his head around to see his son clutching around his stomach, gripping as hard as his little body could-- who else was it going to be, after all? Sketch squirmed in Rush's grip and tried to pull him off, but the young Ysoki let out a half-wail, half-sob, clutching to his father in a way that made Sketch falter. He froze on the spot as Rush nuzzled into his stomach and up to his chest, wiping tears against his cheap cloth tunic. "Rush..." Sketch began, his expression pained as the Ysoki sidled up his body, practically climbing him with his hands until his muzzle hovered under Sketch's own, closer to his neck. The young Ysoki sniffled again, taking in a deep shuddering breath, before he abruptly lifted his head and pushed his muzzle against his father's own. Sketch's eyes widened as his heart skipped a beat-- he was being kissed by his own son. Silence fell between them. Tense, agonising silence. Sketch's mind was a cacophony of thoughts, of feelings: shame, anger, self-flagellation, irritation, happiness, love, and lust. All of it hit him at once like a freight train, and he wanted nothing more than to roll the two of them over and kiss his son even more, to taste his tears, to feel their tongues press together...but his hands seized and his body grew rigid under Rush's tender lips. He was frozen in place, unable to utter even a single sound. Inevitably, Rush parted the kiss, if only so he could speak. Sketch simply listened. "I liked it," The young Ysoki blubbered, having the courage to speak through his tears. "I liked what that man did to me, what we had to do to live here… I wasn't scared. It was just... a lot." "Rush--" Sketch immediately wanted to interject, to tell him how wrong it was. "And you don't have to be scared," Rush raised his voice to speak over his own father, taking in panting breaths amidst his sobbing. "I heard what you said. I know it makes you feel sad. But I don't care if you want to touch my... my thing. I want to touch yours too. I love you, daddy..." In an instant, all the pent-up emotion, the desire, the anger and shame bubbled up in Sketch upon hearing those words. It was like having an epiphany, like something had broken the barrier of his subconscious and come to the forefront. What had he been doing all this time to his son but push him away, instead of embracing him? He'd been going about this all wrong; he'd never asked what his own kid felt. His eyes grew moist with his own tears and he bowed his head, dropping the bottle to the side, letting it spill its contents onto the wooden floor as he wrapped both arms around his body, holding him tight. Rush melted into him as a shaky, happy sigh of relief escaped his muzzle, and tears freely rolled down his cheeks-- he'd wanted this for so long. The two of them hug for what feels like an eternity, sitting on the hardwood floor, before Sketch pulls his head back. Rush looked up at him, into his softened gaze, and the two of them didn't need to say a word; as if on instinct, knowing what the other wants, to two press their muzzles together again, finally bridging the gap that Sketch had unintentionally built over the last few weeks with a single, piercing kiss. It was sweet yet also bitter, metaphorically dripping with Sketch's harboured longing. Just the act of the kiss alone was enough to make the older Ysoki's loins tingle and burn with desire, and his mind swam with the need to fuck. His kiss deepened, and his son was receptive; Rush clung to him, never wanting to let him go, as he subtly parted his muzzle to allow his father's tongue to brush against his. The feeling of flesh against flesh sent a dizzy spark through the man's body, and his hands snaked down his son's lithe, boyish frame as he tilted his head to the side, pushing his tongue deeper. The room felt hot and heavy, or maybe it was just them, but it was clear where their kissing was leading, and both of them wanted it. They moved passionately, leaning against each other, pulling back when they needed air before pushing forward again, and over time Sketch's hands roamed, reaching for the hem of his son's tunic. He pulled it up towards the cub's chest and Rush instinctively pulled back, lifting his arms so his father could bring it up and other his head, and they were apart for barely a second before they kissed again. Rush rolled his hips down against his father's crotch and moaned quietly against his muzzle when he felt the aching, turgid hardness of his cock hidden beneath. Sketch's greedy hands snapped down to the pants covering up the object of his desire and he pulled, slipping them down and over Rush's behind. The young Ysoki had to move to stretch his legs out, desperate to not part their kiss, but Sketch pulled away for a moment so he could bring a hand to his mouth, covering two fingers in spit. He brought it down to his son's behind, sliding the digits between his now exposed cheeks, and Rush winced as his finger's fingers effortlessly penetrated his young, used hole, lubing him up with just the spit alone. "I'm going to fuck you." Sketch murmured against his son's ear, panting heavily from the sheer lust of it. "I'm going to breed you, cum inside you. Do you want it, son?" "Yes, dad...please..." Rush whimpered quietly, and as his legs kicked off the remnants of his pants, Sketch became vividly aware of his son's own arousal, his little hard dick pushing against the man's still-clothed stomach. Sketch worked to take off his tunic and jacket, tossing them forcefully to the side before he clumsily slid his cloth pants down, laying himself back and pulling his son with him as he laid on the floor, his boy atop him. The pants shimmied down until his own erection pressed firmly against his son's own, and Rush weakly rolled and humped against it as Sketch's legs bent and bowed to mosey and slid the pants free from his body, finally leaving them both in the nude. With both hands he cupped his son's ass, and Rush went to lift himself up, but Sketch moved a hand up his back to push him back down, wanting the two of them as close together as possible. The young Ysoki instinctively spread his legs out to reveal his hole, and Sketch's hands grabbed at his cheeks and spread them, his cock twitching in a near-upright position, desperate for sex. He slipped a hand from that wonderful ass to the base of his already pre-soaked cock and angled it with ease, directing it towards his son's hole. The boy, about a foot shorter than his father, cuddled into Sketch's naked chest as he felt the tip of the dick spear between his cheeks and prod his lubed-up entrance, and he winced briefly from the discomfort of it, before he wriggled his behind and tried to push down, wanting to show his father it was okay. Frankly, even if Rush had said no, Sketch didn't know if he could stop himself. With a careful push, Sketch started to sink himself inside, and the satisfaction he got from finally being to shove his cock into his son's ass was immeasurable. He groaned loudly, his other hand curling tightly against the cub's behind, and he shuddered with pleasure before he was more than even halfway inside. Need dribbles of pre-cum were already leaking from the end of his member, and as he slipped back just for a moment to get a better angle, that pre-cum trailed a fine line along the boy's insides, making his inevitably thrust significantly easier. With his cock mostly embedded, Sketch moved his hand back to his son's ass, sliding it up towards his hip and higher towards his back, ushering the 8-year-old down slightly so he could get fully embedded into him. His ears twisted to the sound of Rush's tender groans, his little whimpers and huffs of pleasure and discomfort, and his gaze trailed, watching the way his son's tail wagged and wiggled frantically, happy to just be there. It pained Sketch to even think of how he could have refuted this, but the thought was swiftly pushed to the back of his mind by the inescapable pleasure that swam through his system. Slowly, he shifted his legs, bending his knees until his ankles and heels were tucked closer to his body, planted against the floor, allowing him room to thrust his hips up into his 8-year-old son's behind. His thrusts were slow and tender at first, marred by a subconscious need to keep his son safe and sound whilst also wanting to satisfy his own desire, but as his pleasure grew and the desperation to cum came closer and closer, so too did his thrust quicken, until his nuts were bouncing up and down as he pumped his 3-and-a-half inch cock into his son's tight body. His breath came out in hot, heavy pants as he bowed his head closer to Rush's own, listening to his whimpers, and he nuzzled against the boy's head, murmuring sweet nothings under his breath as he bucked. His body was alight with the sensations, his ears listening to every sound, each pant and moan, each slap and squelch. His heart hammered in his chest and his body was vividly aware of not only the pressure inside him growing, but also the twitching little mass nudging and humping against his stomach every so often. It just made it all the more better, to know that Rush was stimulating himself against his fur. His mind swam with wonderful thoughts, with greedy, eager desire, images flashing through his mind of positions they could be in, of the things they could do, the tender moments they could share. Weeks of pent-up sexual desire came flooding out of him like a tidal wave, coaxing more and more oozing droplets of pre-cum as his mind became delirious with desperate, aching ecstasy. He barely registered he was on the cusp until it was too late. The shudder of intense bliss that rolled through him caused him to pause and suck in a breath, letting out choked groans of passion as his hands swept down to Rush's ass, spreading his cheeks so he could push in as much as his cock would allow, the base of his pelvis meshing perfect to Rush's own, like a key in a lock. His pulsing cock throbbed and quickly spurted his load straight into his son's behind as Sketch rolled his head back, letting out a sigh of surprise and relief, and beneath him Rush quivered, nudging against Sketch's body, grunting little huffs of passion before he suddenly let out a weak cry, a boyish moan escaping his muzzle. Sketch could feel his son's tiny 2-inch cock twitching against his stomach, and at the same time those tight innards flexed, squeezing in rhythmic waves around Sketch's cock. He groaned, fingers clenching and massaging the boy's cheeks as Rush milked his cock, an additional wave of satisfaction coming over his father as the realisation that he'd made his son cum, too. The two lay there in happy bliss. Everything was out on the table now; their infatuation, their carnal incestuous desire...nothing could be a secret between the two of them any more, not after the sins and taboos they'd committed out of mutual satisfaction. Quietly, Sketch pumped into his son's ass a little more, kneading out the remnants of his orgasm, and he wanted nothing more than to lay on the floor with his son for all eternity...but that was not meant to be. A knock on the door caught Sketch by surprise, and his bliss was briefly replaced with panic. Rush, too, felt a sense of embarrassment, and with a shaky gasp Sketch pulled out of his son with a squelching pop, before he slid the boy off his body and rolled, scrambling for his clothes. He managed to find his pants and pull them on before approaching the door, casting a glance back for a moment to see his son disappear into the hallways beyond, cupping his behind. Sketch cleared his throat and opened the door, just in time to see the very last person he was expecting to. "You." Sketch's voice was ladened with some slight anger, but mostly fear and apprehension. Before him was none other than the very Kitsune he'd kicked out the night before. He wasn't expecting Den to come back, but since he had, he was also anticipating the beating of a lifetime. Sketch leant out the door slightly to look left and right...surprisingly, the man was alone. "Smells like you two make up," Den remarked pleasantly, before clearing his throat and continuing. "Sketch. I understand I put you in a predicament, and so I'd like to make up for it." "Sir, you don't--" It was Den's turn to interject, for he held up a gloved hand to silence the Ysoki, before unfurling his other hand from behind him. In it, he held a parchment, which he offered out expectantly. Sketch was nervous, but he took it and unfurled it, scanning the contents. "A job," Den confirmed as Sketch read, the Ysoki's eyes widening. "Personal bodyguard detail. Singe, my associate, is a clever and agile man, but he is not strong...in a fight, I need someone capable of throwing a man. I'm sure you fit the bill." "I don't...this is..." Sketch didn't know what to say, but Den continued regardless. "In addition to the perks of a fixed wage," Den continued, reaching over to tap near the bottom of the parchment, several paragraphs above a dotted line with Sketch's name to the left of it. "I'll also throw in the perk of tutoring your son. I've caught wind that his current tutor isn't well versed in dealing with his education, so I'll be more than happy to make up for where they're lacking." "Are you...I don't understand," Sketch shook his head, his hands trembling. "Why are you doing this? Do you...do you want my boy again? Because I don't know if--" "Of course not," Den snapped, quickly interjecting over him. "Your son needs assistance, and frankly, I did place you in this position indirectly. I have time on my hands. This will be a good use of it. I'm offering, Sketch, and I don't offer lightly-- do we have a deal?" From behind the older Ysoki, Rush appeared, having taken an extra tunic from his room to cover himself up. He must have wanted to see who was at the door, but when he recognised the visitor, he squeezed by his father to hug Den around the waist, catching the both of them by surprise. "Thank you for saving me, Mister." Rush beamed up at him, and the Kitsune ruffled his hand between the Ysoki's ears, causing his little tail to wiggle. "What do you mean, kid?" Sketch looked at him, before up at the Kitsune, who merely shook his head. "You were so drunk last night I didn't get a chance to explain..." Den glanced past Sketch, taking quiet note of the clothes on the floor, and the bottle. "...Perhaps you might invite me in for some tea, and I'll tell you all about it?" The Kitsune offered a wide and welcoming smile, and Sketch bought it, with ease. He stepped to the side to allow the man inside, and Rush led him in by the hand, the door closing shut behind them. This would be the start of a particularly wholesome relationship...or would it? Only time would tell, but for now, Den was content to have alleviated some of the concern that worried him so...and he got in the family's good graces for his trouble.