It's cold out tonight. At least, that's what everybody else says--"everybody" including Ray, who'd made Sally take a coat before she left the Mutanimals' latest base. She'd gone along because standing still and explaining why pulling on a coat was the worst thing in the world for her right now, and now she's practically dragging the thing behind her as she stumbles down the street.
Because for Sally, the night doesn't feel cold in the fucking least. There's heat buzzing under her fur, cutting through her bones like a white-hot knife, making her brain throb like it's going to melt right out of her skull. Her clothes are too tight one second and feeling like they're on the verge of burning right up her body.
She'd hoped, stupidly, that a walk would clear her head. And now she's stumbling through New York, the ground swaying under her, trying to get her way back to the fucking base to see if she can find somewhere to lay low and find some painkillers or whatever the fuck you're supposed to do for something like...this.
It's happened before, she thinks, but her memories are glitchy. She remembers that the fuckers at Null had kept her pretty drugged up while bitching to each other about not having a male feline specimen to "test" her, since Ray had been laid up with one injury or another at the time. It took ages for her to figure out how much of a fucking bullet she'd dodged, and she'd prayed that it was just a one-time thing, a side effect of one test or another.
Nope. Sally's in fucking heat, the kind of heat that makes her head swim with tits and asses and cunts and pussies, with the need to spin someone or pin down and fuck her brains the fuck out. Every breath feels like a goddamn hairball of hot coals, every heartbeat like a punch to the stomach and a hand dragged teasingly over her clit all at once.
Or something. God, she doesn't fucking know. Sally rests her head against the cold stone in an alleyway and takes slow, deep breaths, hands shaking against the bricks.
Get your shit together. She just needs to get her shit together, get back to safety, then look at herself in her room with her favorite porn mags and go to town until her hand either falls out or this stops. Maybe ask Lindsey for help, if she can stand the embarrassment of the whole fucking situation.
First things first, though, is getting home. You know where you are. Sally turns her head slowly, cheek scraping against the wall, dragging her gaze up and down the alley. You do, you do, you just need to think, you just need to--
"Hiya, kitten."
The smell hits her in a blast of sweet, sweet musk and Sally inhales without thinking, nostrils flaring. Then the pieces slam together in her head and she's twisting her round, glaring at the fucking cat in the fucking trenchcoat propped against the opposite wall.
"You don't look so good," Hob takes a puff on her cigarette and blows it into the wind, teeth winking in the firelight. "Something the matter?"
"What the fuck," her words are a squawky, broken rasp, "are you doing?"
"Oh, me?" Hob stamps a cigarette out under her boot and takes a step in Sally's direction, gaze-razor sharp with mirth. Sally digs shaking fingers into the brick to keep from lunging towards her. "I was just minding my own business when I picked up on a lost little kitten in heat." She drags a finger along Sally's chin, clucking softly. "You oughta be grateful, y'know. Wouldn't do for a more unpleasant character to find you all mussed up and vulnerable like this."
Sally wants to jerk away from the touch, but it's all she can do not to lean into it. "N-not a kitten," she coughs, mouth dry.
"No, you're a lost lion cub who should know better to be out on her own on a night like this." Hob's fingers tighten ever so slightly and Sally moans before she can stop herself.
Hob smiles, and fuck, those fangs of hers just make things so much worse. Her free hand comes up to pet the back of Sally's neck, ruffling her fur ever so gently; her tail winds slowly around Sally's leg.
"Get the fuck away from me," Sally grits out. She swears she can feel the ground rippling under her feet; she doesn't know why Hob looks so steady.
"Why?" Hob cocks her head, looking genuinely confused. "You think Dr. Baker can help you with your little problem? You think you won't break her fucking spine the first time around?" Her fingers dig into Sally's shoulder blade. "You need a real mother cat to take care of you, darling."
"Fuck..." The flames leap wherever Hob touches her, and that should be a bad thing, but instead every nerve in her body is screaming good. "Fuck you, you fucking liar--"
"Shit, you're really hung up on that?" Hob laughs, and the sound makes Sally's knees weak even as she fantasizes about punching the fucking bitch in the face. "Relax, honey, I'm not proposing marriage. I just wanna take care of my own, like I always do."
She lifts Sally's chin, and her eye is so bright and sharp Sally feels cut open just by looking at it, molten lava insides spilling into the street. Her tail flutters against Sally's leg sparks over her fur.
"My place ain't far from here," Hob whispers, breathing gently on Sally's face. "And it's pretty cold out tonight."
God fucking help them both, but she's right.
 
She doesn't actually come before getting onto the bed, not really. She's already shucking off her clothes while Hob's locking the door to her shithole apartment, pride losing to the urge not to completely suffocate, and she's caught off guard by the press of a hand against her thigh.
Sally hears herself groan, loud and wanton, and presses frantically down into the touch before she can stop herself, spreading her legs wide. Hob hums as she shoves the first finger Sally's cunt, then another, teasing and rubbing at her folds like she knows them better than Sally does.
"Like holding a goddamn star," she whispers, and Sally sobs. She's grinding onto Hob's hand, with a hunger deeper than any words.
Hob bends them both carefully over the bed and Sally feels herself crest as her teeth sink into the pillows. She yowls, twisting and shuddering, the flames burning so bright and hot it stops hurting and feels fucking incandescent.
But then she's shuddering back to earth and the fire's still roaring, she still needs more. Her nerves are stretched to the limit, so oversensitive it hurts, but she wants to be fucking bombard with more sensation anyway, she needs it, and she can't stop herself from moaning with desperation.
Hob hums and pulls out her slick fingers, tossing her own clothes to the floor. "Eager little thing, aren't you, kitten?"
"Shut the fuck up," Sally spits. She grabs Hob by the hand and tugs her onto the mattress, heart skipping a beat at the way Hob's fur-covered tits press against her own. "Shut the fuck up and fuck me."
"Yes, ma'am." And Hob's teeth are sinking her into her neck as Hob's fingers plunge back between her damp, quivering thighs. Sally shrieks, wrapping her legs against Hob's waist as she yanks their bodies together, Hob's pleasure up tight and burning against her own.
"You need this," Hob snarls, giving her hips a tight, brutal snap. "Fucking need it so bad, don't you, little kitten."
"Eat--fuck--eat my shit," Sally rasps, ripping her fingers down Hob's back. "You stupid fucking, fucking...house cat." 
Hob just snickers at that, the fucking bitch, and bites again, deeper this time, deep like the fingers she's sinking into Sally's cunt. Sally wails, shuddering all over like she's trying to get away or reach for more, and more.
She comes again when Hob kisses her, teeth cutting into her lip. Her mouth tastes of tobacco and Sally's own blood and Sally sucks it down like kindling it is, desperate to feed the fire before it consumes her bones instead.
The world shifts around her and she's falling back, teeth dragging over her fur as Hob makes her way down, and down, teeth sinking Sally's breasts and lapping at her nipples before dragging down her sides, along her hips. She sucks on Sally's clit the way she would a cigarette and Sally sobs, heels pressing against Hob's shoulders like she's trying to break her neck or shove herself all the way down her throat.
Hob laughs, rough and mean and triumphant, and Sally loves it, loves the way the sound pulses against her pussy (pussy, tee fucking hee). She feels hands scratching along her ass, fingers slick with her own fluids digging ever so carefully into her ass she's lifted up, all the way up the bed, pushing even deeper into Hob's mouth than she'd ever dreamed possible.
Say what you will about the other shit that's come out of Hob's mouth, but the woman eats her like a fucking machine. Sally comes and the bitch keeps going out, keeps dragging over one edge after another. Sally isn't sure how many it's been, just that she keeps burning all the way through.
It doesn't stop until it does, Hob roughly yanking away, and sprawling on her back with a groan. "Not all of us have a lil' fire in our guts keeping us going, kitten," she purrs, dragging Sally's head into her lap with an iron hand. "And you gotta pay to play."
"Fuck you," Sally groans, even as she's pushing Hob's thighs open, because goddamn it, but her cunt smells good. It tastes good, too, so fucking good, and she eats it with a hunger she's never shown with in her occasional trysts with Lindsay because she was always scared of ripping the woman open, but Hob's thighs are all fur and muscle wrapped around her head, dragging her in, demanding more, and more. 
She's grinding against the bed the whole time and maybe it shouldn't be such a surprise when the burn of woman-cum against her tongue and Hob's loud, strangled moan is enough to her spasm, too. Shame is a faint tickle at the back of her mind, right now, and soon enough it won't even be that.
"That it's," Hob purrs, literally purrs, and it feels almost soothing as she hoists Sally up and drags her into her lap with rough hands. Sally hisses as their bodies touch--pelvis feels like it's been drenched in acid, but the good kind of acid, somehow.
"Oh, baby girl," Hob whispers, her voice viciously soft. Her hand brushes over Sally's eyes, tickling her lids, and Sally's breath hitches. "Are you crying now? Did I make you cry?" She giggles. "Or is that where I jizzed all over your pretty face?"
Sally blinks--she's not sure of the answer, she can't decide whether she's sobbing or not, her nerves are too busy shrieking and tingling with need to tell. And she decides she doesn't fucking care, so she just slams her fangs into Hob's shoulder, digging down for all she's worth.
"Ah, shit," Hob snarls, reaching down to give Sally's tail a vicious tweak. Sally hiss-moans at that, slamming her hips so hard against Hob's she sends them both toppling into the sheets.
"Mmm," Hob's thumb sneaks back into her ass, her free hand coming up to stroke Sally's face. Sally arches into the touch, fantasizing about biting those fucking fingers off. "You like playing rough, don't you, honey?"
"I like getting screwed by, by someone who doesn't, doesn't have to talk, all the fucking, fucking time, you fucking--" She gasps at the pressure of something else, something long and furry that should not set her on fire the way it does, that should not rub up against her fur like a goddamn velvet glove.
"And you like this, too," Hob grits out. Her tail twists and Sally shrieks, squirming and pushing down as her claws shred the blankets next to Hob's head. Hob's hands drag over her breasts, twisting and pulling, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises, all while jabbing her tail so deep Sally swears she can hear the tip smacking against her thundering heart.
She comes with a cry so loud she could swear she heard a window breaking somewhere, although maybe that's just her sizzling, bubbling brain playing tricks. Her hips keep thrusting against Hob's, but she lets the rest of her body fall, lets her damp, slobbering mouth pressed against Hob's tits and suck like she's a cub again.
"That's it." Hob's voice is soft, like the bed isn't literally shaking underneath their bodies, like her fingers aren't scraping over Sally's hips and ass with knife-sharp hunger while her tail rearranges Sally's insides. "There you go."
She's pulling Sally close, close, closer to the edge, and this one feels different, the line between a crest in her body and a crest in her body. The heat is everywhere now, to the point that she doesn't really feel it anymore, doesn't feel much of anything. Just Hob, and a want like flowers sprouting in her bones and thorns scratching her veins, ready to split her open for good.
"You're going to hate me when you're back to normal," Hob rasps in her ear.
Sally grits her teeth, using the last of her strength to push words up her aching throat. "I already do."
The tail inside crooks like a finger and she's falling, spinning, babbling like a wild thing as Hob cradles her in her arms, claws ripping her back apart as their teeth sink into each other's necks. Blood spills through her fur, mixing with the fluids staining her legs, and it all feels like a blessing.
Everything melts into an endless swirl of fur, flesh, teeth until she's not even sure what they're doing anymore, only that she wants more, and more, and more. She pleads through hisses and growls and roars, and Hob responds in kind, pouring inhuman noises down the throat like they're the water she needs to survive, or maybe the gasoline.
 
At some point they broke the bed. The rug is a wreck now, claw marks sunk deep into the floor, and Sally feels a bit of vindication for that, even though she doubts Hob really gives a shit.
At some point her cuts got bandaged. Sally tugs at them idly, trying to decide if this was an act of kindness on Hob's part or something else entirely.
At some point Hob texted Ray to tell him what was going on. And apparently they kept on texting, little threads of rapport bouncing back and forth. Sally bites her lip at the sight, tries not to feel disappointed--deep down, she knew Hob was always going to make her way back into their lives, just like she always does. And what happened last night (nights?) doesn't really help.
She looks down at Hob, passed out and snoring on the floor. It would be the easiest thing in the world to cut her throat or lie down next to her or fuck knows what.
It would be the easiest thing to do besides forcing herself back into her torn, sticky clothes, having to breath in shame with every aching breath. Easy to not have to stand on shaking legs, to pull air through an aching chest, to lip her bloodied and now that the ringing in her head is just echoes of her own begging.
She can taste the ashes of need in her mouth, and she thinks the taste will last for a while. Same for the quiet little ache that misses the fire, that wonders if Hob can get it going again.
But fuck that. Hob hasn't screwed all of the principles out of here, at least not tonight. She might not be good, but fuck help her, she doesn't want to be Hob's bad. And if Hob keeps tugging thumb back into her games, Sally will be tugging herself back out. She doesn't have a choice.
She grits her teeth and makes her way out the door, resisting the urge to step on Hob's hand as she goes. Not out of kindness, but because Hob will wake up, and Sally doesn't know what'll happen then. What she'll let herself do.
The wind is cold against her face and Sally bows her head, pulling her coat tighter. She tosses a parting middle finger over the shoulder as she makes her up the rough stone steps and down the quiet morning street.