# A Special Kind Of Hunger

Title: A Special Kind Of Hunger
Status: Complete
Characters: Anon, Naser, Naomi
Rating: NSFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: Cada
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You adjust your red glasses pushing them up further along your snout. Brushing your short cut blonde hair aside, you continue to give the physics lecture you had prepared for class. Without a hitch you recite the words you had meticulously written a week prior in your room, making sure that your eyes lock and linger with a few members of the class. As your allotted time comes to a close, you finish and take a small bow. A non-insignificant number of classmates applaud, scratching that itch that only praise brings. You walk back to your seat as the teacher calls up the next student, hips swaggering ever so slightly. You knew what your score was already - a perfect one-hundred, if not more. The same as it was the last time, and the time before that. Perfection.
Taking your seat next to Naser, you begin to scribble notes to take down during the next number of speeches. You barely pay attention to the words, though. No need to. The noises coming out of their mouths are beneath you. You sneak a hand under the table and interlink fingers with the brown pterodactyl, startling him from his daydream. Was he even paying attention to your presentation? The thought he was disinterested in your work left a sour taste in your mouth. You smiled through it however, your face as candy-sweet as your words. "Whatcha thinking about, dearest?" You flutter your eyes slightly. Sheepishly, he comes up with some unconvincing compliment. Mhm. Thinking about how pretty you are up there? Sure. You peck his cheek and laugh internally at the way his face changes in hue. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
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Naser pushes you against the fuzzy felt wall, the impact knocking a little wind out of you. Dammit, you've told him to be gentler. He ravenously kisses your neck in the way he thinks you like, hand finding yours and pinning it to the wall as well. You hand goes behind his neck, stroking it the way you know he likes. The neck kisses turn to lips locking which turns to tongues playing. One eye cracks open, taking in the shiny wooden floor of the empty gymnasium. You wonder what the next lesson in economics will be? Thirty minutes to go between classes. His hand paws at your shirt, trying to undo the buttons. He better not tear any of them. A knee grinds against your crotch as he runs his hand through your hair. You'll need to take some time to re-adjust it. You hope he didn't leave any hickies on your neck; wouldn't do for people to talk. A million things and more play through your mind as you go through the motions of passion.
Truth be told, you hadn't enjoyed this nearly as much as he had. At first it was nice, but as the encounters became more frequent the more your delight was sapped. Now, more often than not, you waited patiently for it to be over. After what feels like an eternity, you finally decide to end it. You break up the party, bringing a questioning look to Naser's face. "It's time for class, we need to get going." You say, trying to sound upbeat. You pat your hair, trying to figure where it needs to be adjusted at. You reaffix buttons, re-tuck the shirt in a few places. He looks a little ashamed, and he reaches for your hand. Thankfully you have your head turned, so you can pretend you didn't see him as you walk away leaving him behind.
The rest of the classes go by rather quickly, your head swimming with thoughts. Your thighs rub together and you feel the heat between your legs and on your face. Looks like it'll be another night with Mr. Handy again, you sigh. You grimace silently. Everything was going so perfectly. Everything except for that loser. Ever since Lucy started putting on this 'Fang' persona, Naser had been worried sick about her. His mind being places other than you ended up reflecting in his handling of school and your love lives. You tried setting up that human, Anon, with Lucy but it didn't seem to be working out. She still kept on with that non-binary crap, and if anything he seemed to be supporting the behavior. Your teeth ground against each other and the pencil in your hand strained against the pressure it was being put under. Dammit. You'll need to talk with him personally and get this straightened out. The bell rings loudly, promptly ending the class. Students get up talking amongst themselves, shouldering their various bags and backpacks and meandering towards the exit. You do the same, hands tightly clutching your handbag.
Last class of the day comes and goes, leaving students to wander and funnel through the halls. Groups of friends clump up against the lockers, making plans or getting prepared for after-school classes. The din arising from so many people talking at once fades in your mind as you stalk the halls for your prey like a carnivore. You vaguely remember something about the reject band meeting in the auditorium, but it was cancelled today due to Lucy and Trish being out sick. So where would Anon be? After about fifteen minutes of looping through the building you find him texting on his phone in an empty, out of the way classroom. You knock on the door and put on a warm face, thinking of just how you want to tear into him. The heat from earlier still hasn't died down, and the haze of hormones clouds your mind making it hard to think. He turns his head, jumping slightly. His phone claps face down to the table. You're obviously the last person he expected to see here. "Hey Naomi..." He starts, trying to think of reasons you'd have come to visit. You wonder what name he's going to call you now. Cream Czarina? Peach Bitch? You have to admit, some of them were a little funny. It was even funnier he thought he was saying them to himself most of the time. He shifted in his seat. "What's up? Where's Naser?" Anon asks. Your mind replays today's little party in the gymnasium and you resist the urge to spit. "He's headed back to his house already, probably to check on that dear sibling of his." Your hands join together, voice sickeningly sweet. "He's so nice, wouldn't you agree? Taking care of them like that." Eugh.
"Was I in your way?" He asks, getting out of the chair quickly. "You being the class president, I bet you've got some business to attend to in here. I should probably get going." He picks up his bag, getting ready to leave. "Actually..." You start, emphasizing your words. "I wanted to talk to you." Your hand motions for him to sit down and he reluctantly complies. You shut the door behind you, and make your way to the human. He leans back in his chair, uncertainty written on his face. You take the desk in front of him, straddling the chair backwards. He thinks you don't notice his eyes dart down for a brief instant. Cute.
"I was wondering, friend to friend of course, how things were going between you and Fang?" Anon looks off to the side, trying to come up with something to say. "This isn't an interrogation of course!" You laugh, trying to break the ice. Don't want to scare him. Scared students don't offer what you want to hear, just what they think you want to hear. "I just know poor Naser has been looking absolutely ragged the past few weeks. He won't say anything to me, I didn't know if you had a different perspective you could give." You lean your face over the chair. "It's in my best interests as a member of the council to make sure all of the students are doing alright. But I'm also your..." You force the word to come out. "...friend. I want to make sure my friends are doing alright." You smile, batting your eyes. Anon shifts uncomfortably in his seat, looking down at the desk.
"Was that who you were texting? Fang?" You ask as innocently as you can, reaching for the phone. He grabs it quickly, pocketing the black slab. Odd. "No, uh, it wasn't them." He mutters. Internally you raise an eyebrow. Who was he texting then? He looks bothered by something. "We're doing fine, I guess? Not much to write home to mom about or whatever, if that's what you're asking." He adds. Hmph. He's not getting out of this one that easily. You unsaddle the chair, straightening yourself to your full height as you walk slowly to the side of the table. Anon doesn't move, eyes glued to the table. He's muttering something, but thankfully for him you can barely make out what it is he's saying this time. You put on your best stern teacher voice. "Anon..." He doesn't move. You tap your fingers against the table, the rapping noise echoing slightly around the room.
He tries to bolt out of the chair and make it for the door, but he doesn’t quite clear the chair. He comes crashing down to a sprawl on the floor. Quick as a flash you hop onto his back, bearing your weight down on him. Your hands greedily dig around in his pocket searching for his phone. Why was he so hesitant? If he wasn’t talking with Lucy, he must be talking with someone else. If he’s seeing someone else, the thought dawns on you, it would throw a wrench in your plans. You retrieve the tablet, opening it back up. Panicking he tries to buck you off, but you remain. Pathetic. For being the same species as principal Spears, they couldn’t seem further removed from one another. Your fingers dance across the screen unlocking the phone in record time. He seems shocked. Of course you know his password - why wouldn’t you? When you’ll both be married into the same family, you need to keep tabs on one another after all. The phone screen opens, and your eyes widen. Anon – who’s since flipped himself under you onto his back – has a look of unadulterated terror and embarrassment on his face.
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Instead of messages detailing sordid affairs between him and one of the no-name nobodies at school, you’re face to face with a gallery list of dino women in various stages of undress. It appears the last thing he was viewing when you had walked in on him was a forum of some sorts. Scantily clad supermodels, plain janes practicing photography on their phones. Picture after picture of raptors, triceratops, and stegosauruses giving the ‘come hither’ eyes to the camera or spreading their womanhood for the viewer to stimulate themselves to. Quite a number of pictures featured muscular, toned human men in the photographs as well. Some were of real people – you’re certain you recognized one of the faculty members in these – and others were hand drawn, not unlike the ‘artistry’ that one lime stegosaurus student was always talking about. You felt the heat rising to your face, thoughts clouding over with mist and your head feeling light. Your eyes burned as your thumb kept scrolling through the photographs. So that’s what human men looked like? You bit your lip, tugging at the flesh. The sharp pain of your teeth breaking the skin dragging you out of the places your mind had begun to wander into.
You move the phone away slightly, peering over your cheeks down to Anon. His face was bright red, not just from the exertion of trying to shove you off, but from the nightmare of embarrassment he was suffering right now. You locked eyes with him, staring wordlessly for a minute. He didn’t need to know your heart was beating quickly, thumping in your chest like a rabbit running from a hungry fox. He didn’t need to know what you thought of those pictures. You shake the phone slightly, bringing it to his attention. “Someone like you, in a relationship, has no business looking at filth like this.” His gaze falls a bit at the admonishment, shame coming to his face. “If you are looking at this, though…” you start, Anon’s eyes picking back up to meet yours. “I’d wager that means you’re not currently satisfied in your relationship. Am I wrong?” He neither moves his head or speaks, but you can see it in his eyes. The same look you see in yours when you peer into the mirror.
“Am. I. Wrong?” You say again, this time with more force. Anon looks away, refusing to speak. You sigh. “I suppose I can’t blame you.” He freezes. “I understand that Fang is a… difficult… situation. It seems that both of are suffering because of her.” You chuckle a bit. He whips his head back to face you, unsure if he heard you right. He looks at you in shock. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.” You admit, closing your eyes and smiling. “Naser is such a sweet man, always looking after his sibling. Even at the expense of his own health. Even at the expense of others.” You almost spit the final word out. You open your eyes again halfway, looking back down into Anon’s. “I guess it hasn’t been easy on you either, huh?” A pause. “It’s okay to speak Anon, this is just between us now.” You say, resting your hand on his chest. Palm splayed open, feeling the warmth he exudes. His eyes track down and stare at the hand. He gulps, trying to think of what to say. He finally gives in. “No, it hasn’t. I don’t want to hurt he- I mean, their feelings. But it’s just…” “Hard.” You finish his sentence. Nodding your head softly. “You have needs and wants too, and it’s not fair that they aren’t satisfying them for you.” He nods slowly. “I feel wrong for saying it. I should be happy that she seems into me. It’s a first.” He laughs, not really laughing. Your hand strokes against his chest in a calming manner. “You shouldn’t feel wrong, it’s perfectly normal for you to feel this way. Your feelings matter too,” You reassure him.
​
“Now, acting on those feelings is a different thing entirely.”
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Anon looks at you quizzically before his eyes widen. Your eyes, in contrast, have taken refuge behind your half-drooped eyelids. A small smile twitches at the corners of your lips. You drag your hand along his chest, fingernails scratching against his shirt. “I should’ve figured you were partial to dinosaur girls, acting the way you have to Fang. But I didn’t know you liked us that much,” You say, motioning with your head to the phone. “I must say, it’s rather flattering.” You place the phone down to the floor, your hand finding a spot next to Anon’s head. You bring your face closer to his, feeling the butterflies swoop around in your stomach. “Have the two of you even kissed yet?” He shakes his head. “You poor thing…” you say sweetly, for once not having to force the inflection into your voice. “You must be so pent up.” He gulps again, words having failed him. You bring your lips closer to his, looking into his eyes as your head makes its descent. He stares back, unable or unwilling to move his head either. Your eye contact remains even after impact is achieved, your lips meeting his in a kiss.
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Your head pushes further against his, tongue passing through your lips and politely licking at the entranced formed by his. Asking for permission to enter, in a sense. Finding no resistance, it parts through his lips easily. The warmth of his mouth shocks the tip of your tongue, as does the sensation of his saliva. Your tongues meet and begin to play with one another. You grind your hips against him a little, a long and low grunt coming from your throat. Eventually you come up for air, breathing deeply the refreshing oxygen and filling your lungs. You lick your lips, still tasting his mouth inside yours. He looks dumbstruck. “Was that your first kiss?” You ask rather incredulously. He looks embarrassed. “Yeah.” You look down for a moment before smiling. “Did you like it?” He returns the smile. “Yeah.”
Kissing turned to touching. The touching turned to taking off clothes, hands wandering across your bodies. Before you know it, he was grinding his throbbing meat against the surface of your slit, lubricating himself with your love juices and prodding experimentally. Slow, tentative thrusts gave way to lust filled, vigorous ones. Again and again you pick up your hips before bringing them crashing back against his pelvis. Feeling the emptiness inside of you when his length departs, only for it to come crashing back inside and filling you up again. So hot. So hard. So Good. Infinitely better than anything Naser had given you. Your blonde hair is a frazzled mess, sticking every which way from the countless times he’s run those rough monkey hands through it. Your nails have left red lines crisscrossing every which way across his chest. His hands rest at your hips, firmly holding onto you with an intensity you haven’t felt before. Your mascara, expertly applied, has run down your cheeks in several arcs; carried downwards by the sweat dripping down your face and body. You regret the way you disparaged his strength earlier. He bucks and thrusts, meeting you halfway and ramming his iron-hard dick inside your sopping wet womanhood. Your insides are electric, your head feeling lighter than its ever felt before. It’s hard to think about anything other than what it is that you’re doing right now. One of your hands picks up from feeling his chest and grabs his hand, guiding it to your own chest. He cups his hand around your breast, thumbing your nipple. He kneads and squeezes, every motion feeling better than the last.
You come down even harder, trying to hilt yourself against him as much as you can. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, your tongue lolling freely out. You saw this expression in one of the pictures he was looking at, and you figured he might find it a turn on. Judging by the twitching you feel inside of you, you supposed correctly. Eventually you slow, coming to a stop. Reluctantly you dismount. Sensing his disappointment, you quickly grab his hands and pull him to his feet. A quick kiss. You lead him by the hands to the teacher’s desk and lay yourself across the front of it, sticking your ass out. A quick shake gives him the idea. He slowly teases at your entrance, parting the lips with the tip of his cock before taking it away again. Sliding it up and down along your slit, occasionally poking through a fraction of an inch before disappearing. Your tail flicks in displeasure. “Hurry up,” you growl. “Put it in already." “I don’t know, Naomi…” He says, satisfaction in his voice.
You can’t believe your ears. Thirty minutes ago he was wordlessly bobbing his head around like a mute, and now he was the one teasing you? You bit the inside of your cheek in frustration. “Put what in?” Your hands tighten the grip they hold on the edge of the desk. Your teeth clench, your eyes screwing shut. You hold your tongue, opting instead to shove your ass back more. "I can't hear you." So mocking. Your hips grind against the desk, trying desperately to get release. "Dick." Your voice, once a menacing growl, has devolved into a whimper. This has been the best you've felt in your life, it can't end so soon. It's not fair. "Did you say something Naomi?" "Your dick!" You practically scream at him, curling your body against the flat wood. "I want you to shove your fuck-stick in me so far I can taste it! I want it! I need it! Fuck, Anon! Is that what you want to hear?" Your voice cracks. "Please..." You cry.
The sudden impact pushes you forwards against the desk, the sudden feeling of fullness and ecstasy taking you by surprise. He thrusts like an animal caught in the heat of the rut, as if his life depends on it. He grabs your tail, yanking it roughly. You yelp in displeasure, but the sound quickly turns into a moan. You feel your liquid love dribble down your thighs, ticking at the sensitive flesh. Every penetration drives you wild, your toes scrunching together. The heat building between your legs feels so good. Anon's hand rears back and smacks the side of your ass, sending a resounding clap through the air. The sharp pain makes you wince, but it turns you on a little. "Yeah, that's right." You say, turning back to face him. "Get rough with me, you stupid monkey."
He drops your tail, hands going for the throat. For the kill. Your instincts are conflicted. Part of you is screaming to run away, far away from this predator. This powerful creature. The other part screams for you to stay, to enjoy this bliss. It was only natural, wasn't it? You were just doing what your body wanted. "Harder..." You choke out, Anon's hands clenching around your throat. They squeeze harder at your behest. The ghostly tickling of numbness begins to manifest across your face. Spit leaks down your lips, stained black by your mascara. "Harder... you pussy..." He's squeezing the life out of you at this point, your eyes feeling like they'll pop out of your skull at any second. You clench around his dick in revenge, tightening your hold on it.
After a few more seconds your vision starts to darken, filled with popping little circles of light. Slapping a hand against the table frantically clues him in and he releases his grip, sending you into a coughing and retching fit. He pauses, letting you breathe. Sweet, sweet air. Oh how you missed it. Your hand reaches behind you and pushes him away gently, another hand coming to your chest as you cough your lungs out. The faint taste of blood swims in your mouth as your head throbs and pulsates with pain. "Geez... I'm sorry, Naomi." He says, looking apologetic. A hand waves at him, dispelling his fears. You still can't talk yet. Blinking tears away, you lean over and kiss him. You lay down on your back against the cold floor and spread your legs enticingly. A "come here" finger beckons him onward. Anon gets to his knees, rock-hard penis wobbling in the air. His face meets yours first, giving a sloppy tongue-filled kiss. Your hands make their way behind his neck, holding onto it. You push your foreheads together and look down as, dick in hand, he pushes against your entrance and guides it in. You bite your lip as he slips inside and your legs open even further as he begins to pump in and out.
"Feels good, huh?" You say, hand dropping to scratch his back. "It's amazing." He replies, his voice sounding strained. You point this fact out to him. "It just... feels too good. I don't want to sound like a weirdo or something." You giggle softly moving your head and giving him a quick kiss. "You like hearing girls make noises, right?" You ask. He nods his head. "What makes you think we don't like hearing you do the same?" He blinks for a second, trying to think of a response. He shrugs his shoulders and embraces you, burying his face in the spot where your neck meets you shoulder. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Long and slow, short and quick. Your legs have already wrapped tightly around his waist, your fingernails digging into his skin. The both of you pant like animals, completely losing yourselves in the moment. He whines like a dog, ooh-ing and aah-ing his pleasure into your ear. Hot breath on your shoulder. He kisses and nips at your neck with his teeth. He and Lucy had been more than friends for a little while now, but if he had gone this long without so much as a kiss, he must really have been suffering.
Eventually his breathing becomes more rapid, his grunts louder. His thrusts come quicker, more violently. His arms wrap around you tighter. Your legs return in kind, leaving him no other option. Faintly you question if that's a good idea, but you've since given up being rational. It feels too good. He moans your name, hand clasping the back of your head. Fingers raking through your hair. You call out his name in kind. You whisper all sorts of dirty things into his ear. Egging him on. C'mon, do it. You want this. He wants this. He's so pent up, wouldn't it feel so good to just let it all out? C'mon. Hurry up. Your head swims with heat, feeling impossibly good. The familiar feeling of orgasm tickles at your consciousness. You're so close. You wish this moment could last forever. He presses against you, burying his dick inside like desperately. You feel the searing hot liquid shoot inside your walls, signalling his orgasm. He keeps himself pressed against you, no doubt his instincts trying to keep it all inside of you. You breathe deeply, your breast rising and falling. He goes limp in your arms. "Good boy," you coo into his ear. "How did that feel?" His speech comes slurred, he's not ready for words yet. The two of you lie there in each other's arms for a while. "Did..." He struggles. He takes a few breaths. "Did you enjoy it?" You nod your head in response. He blinks sleepily, resting his head against your chest.
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You quell the panic inside of you. Pacing around your bedroom you feel the tears try to worm their way down your eyes. Your stomach is an empty pit, your throat tightening and itching. Twice. There's no way it could've been an accident or a fluke. You've calculated and planned your menstrual cycle too meticulously for there to be a mistake. You flop onto the bed, arms seeking the nearest stuffed animal. You squeeze the soft, furry animal in an embrace as the tears fall. This will ruin everything. Your perfect high school life? Gone. Your home life? You'll be kicked out. Everyone will ostracize you as an adulterous, cheating harlot. What will Naser say when he finds out? Your fingers scrape against the sides of your head, trying to dig their way inside. Your breathing comes quick and erratic. This can't be happening, this can't be real. You smack your head against the wall, the dull pain spreading through the back of your head. You sob into your pillow-animal, a large blue owl. Millions of tiny cyan strands dangle off the surface, the whole of them providing a soft and silky texture to the thing. You remember when you were a child and saw it in the mall, tugging at your father's hand to bring it to his attention. You've had it ever since. You were such a sweet girl, such a nice girl. Such an innocent girl. What happened?
You dry your tears, steeling yourself with resolve. No. This isn't happening, because you won't let it happen. Naomi Hunter doesn't let anything ruin her plans. You rack your brain, thinking ahead. Thinking of all the things you can figure out, the plans you can hatch. Things will require an adjustment, certainly. But you'll find a way to make things work. You always do, after all. A sly grin spreads itself across your face. First things first. You lean down and grab your phone from the floor, disconnecting the charging cable. You unlock it, bringing up a picture of you and Naser at one of his track meets. You push down the feeling of nausea seeing his face brings as you open the instant messenger. You tap the conversation you have in mind and type your message, hesitating before you thumb the icon to send it. "Hey babe, come over. My parents aren't home. ;)" it reads. You chuckle, not entirely devoid of malice, as you hit enter.
Now, you wait.