FIC: Unnatural Attractions, by gatewaygirl, HP/SB
Here's a kinkier one...
Title: Unnatural Attractions Author: GatewayGirl Pairing: Harry/random dogs, Harry/Sirius Canon-compliancy: Through OotP Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Bestiality. Notes: The start of this story dates back to 2005, when I was in a fest and looking at kinks and squicks, and thinking I'd much rather read watersports (pissing) or bestiality than complete noncon. I decided to write one of each, and came out with the first, Territorial Adjustments, rather quickly. This one, however, stalled out and sat unfinished on my hard drive for years. Thanks to clauclauclaudia and lore for comments, and flamewarrior for kink beta. Summary: Harry likes dogs. Living with one might be tricky.
-- Harry --
It hadn't started with dogs. It had started with a pony. I'd been hiding on the moor -- a lousy place to hide, you might think, but that was part of the beauty of it -- one mild As Expected charm on a dip in the land and the ridge around it, and then my invisibility cloak when I went beyond that, and I was hidden on ground that was easy to survey from a broom. I was there to watch this particular place -- an old ring fort, I was told. It was a boring job, but I had fought for weeks to be allowed to do anything, and I wasn't going to give it up. With Hogwarts closed for the indefinite future and N.E.W.T.s postponed until "sufficiently secure arrangements could be made", the Order of the Phoenix had no excuse not to acknowledge me as an adult.
Anyway, I had been sitting out under my cloak that day, and a herd of ponies was close. I watched, fascinated, as a stallion mounted one of the mares. His, well, thing -- it was strange to think of something that long as a penis -- it curved forward like the blade of a scimitar, black and glistening in the almost horizontal beams of the evening sun. I watched the coupling, totally engrossed, and didn't think twice about slipping my hand inside my pants. They didn't take nearly long enough for me. I had to close my eyes and remember it while I finished off, and then I knew I was being weird, but I didn't care.
I'd never thought much about cock -- not other boys, anyway, or not that I'd noticed -- but I found myself watching the ponies, not just for the rare matings, but for stallions that dropped at other times. I wasn't enough of idiot to try anything -- even a small pony would clearly be too dangerous to get excited without safeguards, and I didn't know any charms for handling horses, or even much about them.
So that was just wank fodder, but then one day, this dog came by -- some off-duty sheepdog, I think -- at least, he tried to herd the ponies until a mare kicked inches from his head, and then he tried to herd me. I sat down by my smokeless fire, and he lay down beside me, and then it was natural to pet him. But when he rolled over to let me rub his belly, and I saw his full bollocks, well, maybe that was less than natural. My breath went kind of shaky, but I couldn't resist slowly edging my touches down to his sheath. The tip of his prick, when it finally emerged, was vulgarly red and glistening, and I was wildly turned on at having made him do that. I conjured lube -- one of the non-warlike spells that the tedium of war had made me good at -- and stroked the full length.
The dog didn't know how to react. It twisted and yipped and even snapped a few inches from my hand in a struggle to rise, although it was clearly enjoying the sensation. I guessed the lack of a bitch was confusing it, or maybe the lying down was. I knelt, used magic to pull the dog back, and kept him facing away from me, his hind legs straddling my knees. He was in a more natural position that way, and I could keep pulling on his cock, but I could also open my trousers and rub into the fur of his back. He started spurting out little bits of liquid, with each one making me more wildly excited, and the lube more obviously superfluous.
I'm sure a dog should be faster, but I finished before he did, that first time.
I was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, which made me think that I must be dreaming, because shouldn't I be in St. Mungo's? If I had been wounded, that is, which I thought I had been, though my memories of the battle were fragmentary. I could tell I was slipping in and out of consciousness, because the light coming in the window kept changing: indirect morning light, bluish moonlight, slanted afternoon sunbeams, the diffuse pallor of a stormy day, and golden afternoon light again, each separated from the next by a blink, if that. An image that came to me one time was considered in another, and during a third lucid moment I realized that the battle had happened at Hogwarts -- that was why I was here.
People came and left, and were hard to look at, although I tried. Someone kept bringing a dog in, and my first, paranoid thought was that they must suspect my perversion and be trying to get me to react. It was several visits before it dawned on me that the dog looked like Snuffles, and that seemed a horrible thing for anyone to inflict on me, suspicious or not. I forced myself to look at the accompanying human, then -- it was Remus Lupin. Lupin wouldn't do that to me, I thought, would he? Perhaps I was hallucinating.
"Am I mad?" My voice came out dry and thick. My tongue felt wrong. I wasn't sure I had spoken before during the time I had been here.
"Harry!" Lupin, who had been gazing into space, focused frighteningly on me and grabbed my hand. His laugh sounded as choked as my words. "You'll be okay," he said, holding my hand between his own. "You're getting better. You'll be fine. Fine," he repeated firmly.
I wanted to ask what had happened to me, but my eyes blinked, and the light changed again, and Remus and the dog (if there had been a dog) were gone.
"Harry! You're ... awake."
From the way she said 'awake,' I could tell that it hadn't been the word she had intended to use. It was too cheerful and forced.
"Why am I here?"
"You were damaged by--" she hesitated. "What do you remember?"
"Not much after Bill's patronus," I admitted. "I apparated ...." Here I had to stop and think. "To Hogsmeade. There was a battle on the Hogwarts grounds. I don't remember much about it, but I think it went on for a while."
She nodded briskly. "Yes. That's very good, Harry. You're doing well."
"Voldemort tried to put you under the Imperius curse. It was the wrong move of course -- he should have known that -- but you countered with a Legilementic attack, which is terribly dangerous, Harry! He froze when you were in his mind, and then Neville, who was coming from the other direction and didn't realize what you'd done, just that you were standing motionless in front of Voldemort, picked up a huge rock and threw it at the back of his head. And he, well, died. While you were in his mind."
"Neville killed him?" That struck me as funny, but I couldn't seem to remember how to laugh.
"Both of you did. He made the physical attack, but you kept his soul occupied so it couldn't, well, go anywhere. But that meant you were in his mind when he died."
That was the second time she'd said that, in the same weighted tone. I tried to think about it. I couldn't remember any of this, except maybe the first soft, seductive tendrils of the Imperius curse. "And that...?"
"Well, it could have left you catatonic, or driven you mad, or even killed you. But it's all right. Madame Pomfrey says that people who start to recover always recover completely, so once you began to speak, we knew you'd be all right."
I lay back, concentrating on keeping my eyes open.
"Not so sure...."
"Is something wrong? You're not supposed to be thinking clearly yet, and the tiredness is completely normal. I read in Mental Affli--" She stopped suddenly, reddening. "You're probably not ready for sources."
I motioned at the floor next to her and tried to think in words. "There was a dog...."
"Oh! Oh no, Harry, he was here. Remus said you hadn't noticed."
"Remus has a dog?"
"Maybe I should explain later."
I glared at her. She's pretty well immune to that, but when I struggled to sit up, she reacted. She pushed on my chest. To my chagrin, she could easily hold me down. "Sorry. If you need to know...." Hermione looked desperately over her shoulder towards Madame Pomfrey's office, but no one came out, and she continued, her voice rising with tension. "Bellatrix summoned the ghosts of everyone she'd ever killed. Do you remember the ghosts? They were all in a tight cluster at first -- enough to make frost. Sirius, though -- he hadn't properly died, you see, so when he came back, he came back alive. And that destroyed her control, and the ghosts turned on her, and..." Hermione shuddered. "She -- they all moved into her at once, and she froze to death."
"But Sirius...." I stared at her, wondering if I was understanding this, and not quite daring to reach the obvious conclusion. "He's ... alive?"
She nodded, but brought her finger to her lips. "Yes, but don't mention him! Pettigrew was found dead with a Death Eater's mask on, and the Wizengamot is considering exonerating Sirius. If they think he's still dead, it should go through easily. Of course, that means --"
"Hermione Granger!" Madame Pomfrey bustled in, scolding as she came through the door. It was comforting, really, for something to be the same. "There is to be no pestering that boy with politics or strategy! He needs normal topics of conversation."
I wasn't sure that Hermione and I still had normal topics of conversation, but there was no chance to say so. I agreed to try a little broth, but I'm almost certain that I fell back to sleep before it arrived.
-- Sirius --
Harry was odd. I mean, I knew he would be -- I hadn't had much chance to talk to him in the Infirmary, but that had been enough to confirm what Remus had told me -- that he didn't have much focus. It would come back, Remus said -- well, said that Pomfrey had said. In the meantime, he should be someplace quiet, without the witches and wizards of the press asking him things, while he convalesced. Tucked out of the way.
As it happened, I also needed to be tucked out of the way. My more Ministry-savvy comrades from the Order said it would be easier to get me officially declared innocent of the '81 massacre -- and pardoned for crimes committed in gaining and keeping my freedom -- if the Wizengamot considered me theoretical. The solution was obvious, Remus explained to me brightly. Harry could come live with me, as I'd wanted and he'd wanted, and we could develop the familial relationship that he had longed for. When I was cleared and he was back to normal, we could move back into the wizarding world.
There was one major problem with that plan. Harry was no longer a child, by anyone's standards. I wasn't sure he had still wanted that sort of family, even before his mind had receded into itself. Still, we could be friends, I was sure, and living someplace remote didn't bother me. After a token airing of my doubts, and that only to Remus, I agreed.
Remus found us a lovely place, cheap, in the country. It was a farm that had gone under, and that gave us plenty of room. The house of the nearest neighbors -- Muggles -- was five minutes walk away. They weren't farmers either, as it happened. The family had a few horses, but mostly they bred dogs -- rather nice looking Alsatians. I was glad of the hedge that shielded our side garden from their land. Without it, the friendly father of the household would no doubt have seen enough to wonder why I never spent any time with my rambunctious black dog.
-- Harry --
So, when I was shipped off to live with Sirius, it was one of those things that ought to have been good, but was actually a strain. This time, though, it wasn't that he was a wreck and pretending. He was actually ready to be happy. This time, I was the one pretending to be normal.
The first problem was that we were next door to some people who bred Alsatians, and they had three unneutered dogs who had the run of their place during the day. I suppose I might have been happy with that if I had wanted to take advantage, but it's one thing to do sick crap when you're all by yourself and you're going to die, and another when you're going to live and might want to be with real people some day.
Even with them there, it might have been okay -- I mean, I could have taken advantage or not -- if it hadn't been for Sirius, or rather for Padfoot, to assign that name to his dog-form. Padfoot liked to play, and I think Sirius thought it was healthy for me to be running around in the sunshine throwing slobbery balls and getting knocked down on the return, but that meant him over me -- this big black dog with bollocks so heavy that they showed through his shaggy hair, which always looked long enough to really grab, so I could rut up against him hard, and he'd be awfully clean for a dog, wouldn't he? So maybe I'd dare....
It was really safer to go for the Alsatians.
It didn't take long to choose which dog to cultivate. The old one didn't react enough to the touching -- holding out for a bitch, I suppose, and I wasn't willing to resort to magical persuasion. After all, animal reaction was part of the appeal. One of the young ones went for it, but growled in a way that made me realize that this animal -- unlike my little collie-sort-of sheepdog -- probably outweighed me. The other young one, though, was perfect. He came back, like my sheepdog had, and the third time he dropped while I was just stroking his back.
I'd never done any more than using my hands and rubbing. I'd thought about it, definitely, including in great detail while wanking. I had been fairly sure the sheepdog wasn't big enough to take me up the arse. This dog, I thought, might be, but I didn't know anything about doing it -- I didn't want to hurt him. I also didn't want him hurting me, and he'd have even less of an idea what he was doing, so I wasn't ready to encourage the reverse. I also couldn't quite bring myself to use my mouth on either one -- it seemed a great idea in my fantasies, but when I actually had a real dog, even a cleaning spell didn't feel entirely sufficient. I thought that I must be the only person in the world who could manage to be a pervert and a prude at the same time.
Anyway, he -- that dog -- was there, and I was doing the same thing as usual, but as my hand stroked along the length of his prick and he let out that whine, I wondered if I could get him to lick mine. He had those long, pointy teeth, of course, but I had found a spell that should keep him from biting, and if I used something tasty...
It was too late, I realized. He'd shot off for the last time, his swollen prick stilling in my hold as his body went limp, and I couldn't stop thrusting against him, couldn't even slow down, couldn't....
There was a crackle of branches being displaced, and I was looking between my canine fuck's tall ears at the shocked face of my godfather.
I came hard.
-- Sirius --
I didn't actually have any idea what to say when I caught Harry with one of the neighbor's dogs. I mean, what could I say? And it didn't actually make anything simpler that I'm a good part dog myself. I'd gone into the bushes as Padfoot because it was easier, and because I'd heard whining. I'd expected a dog with its collar caught on a branch, not with my godson pulling on its prick. Shock made me change form and embarrassment made me change back. I fled to the house and the kitchen.
There, I made tea, added a generous dash of firewhiskey, and wondered, not for the first time, what Harry would have been like if James and Lily had raised him. Not like this, certainly. I'd been worrying about his secretive disappearances, but they made more sense, now, and that wasn't as reassuring as it might have been. I couldn't help wondering if he'd ever wanted to do that to me -- close his hand around my prick, rub his own against my fur until he had streaked it with his come.... Not a helpful train of thought.
I spent a few minutes reviewing the most non-erotic things I could think of -- the way Bellatrix cackled, for example, and the cold of the ghosts on the battlefield. When I heard the door open, I summoned all my courage and called him in from the corridor. "Harry?"
After a few seconds of silence, his footsteps resumed, and he appeared in the doorway. His face was frighteningly red.
"That, er--" I gestured vaguely in the direction of the side lawn. "Did that start, uh, recently?"
He shrugged. "When I was on the moor. Um...."
"Have you ever, uh--"
"Just what you saw," he said quickly, his voice as high as a boy's with tension.
"May I go now?"
"Sure. Um-- " I didn't want him to think I was going to shut him out. "Dinner's in a couple of hours."
For a few days we didn't talk about anything but food and the weather.
I hadn't thought anything of going into Harry's room as a dog. I don't think I'd thought anything of it. I was just tired, and unsure of talking, and being a dog is usually simple.
He was lying in bed reading, which might have tipped me off, if I'd thought about the sort of things I read in that position at that age, but the dog doesn't think like that. I jumped up on the bed and settled beside him -- nice and warm for a cold, rainy evening -- and he began to stroke me -- long, slow strokes down my flank. I think I dozed off for a little while.
Slowly, Harry's hand moved down. Nothing wrong with a belly-rub, right? A minute later, though, he was stroking along my sheath, squeezing just slightly at the base, then trailing off to a light touch. He lay just as he had been, looking forward, with only his ragged breathing betraying that he knew what he was doing. I did the same. I shouldn't have, but the dog knows no shame, and my memory of it, in that form, is a weak substitute for conscience. To be honest, I don't have much of that as a human, either -- not for matters of pleasure. I felt my dog's body drop, the moist prick extending out into Harry's hand. We both continued to pretend not to notice. We weren't doing this, weren't doing anything. We were just lying still.
It felt good -- very good -- that hand along my prick. It was just starting to get sticky and rough, when Harry conjured lube, silently.
Wandless, voiceless magic is hard. Conjuring is hard even with a wand and an incantation. That Harry was doing it displayed tremendous power. What he was doing with it displayed why he wasn't going for head of the Wizengamot.
Dogs don't take very long. I broke and started to push into his grip, coming in little spurts, and with a small cry, he rolled onto his side, and shoving down his loose bottoms, began to thrust against me, his free hand tangled in my fur and around his undeniably hard cock. We both knew what we were doing.
Dogs don't take long, but he was way ahead of me -- had been when I entered the room, I think. We finished almost together. His hand moved to my chest and his head to my shoulder, where it stayed for a full minute. Then he let go and rolled away, and I jumped down from the bed and slunk out of the room.
We didn't talk about it. We were tremendously, painful, normal in our conversation the next day. Every time I saw him, I wanted to push him against the wall and shove my hand down his trousers and see what he felt like to my touch. That wasn't it, though. He didn't want me. He wanted the dog. If I let myself want him, I would just go mad. I stayed human as much as possible to keep my control, but that kept me thinking, which was uncomfortable. It also kept me noticing how he looked -- all the intensity and casual grace of James, made all more riveting by being completely artless.
It's quite possible things would have stayed right there if it wasn't for a chance meeting with the neighbor. I asked how things were going, and he drooped. One of his best dogs was becoming sexually aggressive with people, and he didn't know why. He was going to have to neuter the animal, losing a valuable stud, or keep it in the kennel all the time, losing a pet.
Maybe it would pass, I said, and while he shook his head, he allowed that he was going to try a week of kenneling before doing anything more permanent.
-- Harry --
Sirius caught me in the kitchen, when I was trying to quickly dump some sugar in tea and escape. I could tell by the look on his face that he was steeling himself to say something, and I was terrified he'd finally tell me off, and hoping, just a little -- okay, maybe more than a little -- that he'd say he wanted to do it again.
"I think you should lay off the neighbors' dogs."
That, I hadn't expected. I felt a surge of anger. "Why?" I taunted. "Jealous?"
I'd scored a hit, at some level, from the way he tensed, but he ignored it.
"Your little toy is picking up bad habits. Gerald was telling me that he's become 'sexually aggressive' with people, and he's afraid he'll have to neuter him or keep him in the kennel."
I was all ready to snap back at him, whatever he answered. Instead, I just said, "oh." Humiliation and guilt clogged my throat. I took my tea and left.
Up in my room, I found I was angry again. I really wanted Sirius to give in, or even to berate me. Any reaction would be better than this mimicry of normality.
I got up and opened my door, then took off my clothes and masturbated in sight of the hallway. It took a long time, but Sirius didn't walk by and see me.
I kept doing that. Over the next three or four days, I must have got off a dozen times in plain sight. He didn't come by, though. At some point, I stopped expecting him to, but I still left the door open.
I didn't touch the dog next door during that time, but I also didn't stop thinking about how much I didn't want to give him up. I wondered if maybe we could buy him. The owner would suspect something, true, but a few Confundus charms might obscure the history enough. On the other hand, that would involve Sirius knowing that I was keeping an animal as a sex toy, and I didn't think I could manage that.
It didn't help that I'd realized I'd rather have Padfoot. I bet he would know what he was doing. I couldn't imagine Sirius hadn't fucked someone up the arse, even if it maybe was a girl.
I had all sorts of fantasies about the things I never did with my dogs, but this time I went back to that encounter in the bushes. Except this time, I wasn't so close to coming, and Padfoot didn't run away. He stayed, growling, and prowled around to lick at my arse.
I already had my clothes off; I came up on my knees to reach in back of myself. It was an awkward position, but I got the first fingertip easily into my arse. I couldn't get it deep, but I didn't want that yet. I conjured more lube and added a second finger, and then a third, imaging Padfoot's cock -- black, in my mind -- poking awkwardly at me as he tried for the right angle.
I heard him stop at the door to my room. I don't know how that works, but that's how it was: I didn't hear Sirius walking up; I heard the silence of him stopping. I wasn't willing to be embarrassed, so I decided to take it as a victory, instead. I pretended not to notice him, and fucked myself more enthusiastically with my fingers, letting out a small moan.
There was a human growl from the door. Almost seamlessly, it turned to another sort of growl. Before I could even twist to look back, a mass of fur and muscle hit me in the back, slamming me down to the mattress. Padfoot snarled and bit at my hair, but it was his prick, more than his teeth, that had my attention. That was long and hard and rubbing past my wrist and my thigh as he snapped his hips roughly forward. I was making a desperate whining noise and couldn't even care about it as I wrenched my fingers out and braced myself on my elbows. Sirius would know what he was doing. He had to.
Then the fucker changed back.
"Harry." He grabbed my hair in one fist and pulled back roughly. That was promising. "Just human a moment. Need words. Need to hear you say 'yes.'"
"God, yes," I moaned. "Please."
As he had promised, he changed back immediately. Shaggy black forelegs pressed in against my ribs as the dog pulled himself up and poked at my backside with a haphazardly aimed cock. Not willing to wait through experimentation, I reached back and guided him to the right spot. His next push got him in, and we both made sharp noises, mine no more human sounding than his, really. It was just so.... I don't even know how to describe it, except that it was exactly right. I moaned and shoved back to let him know it was still yes, and he regained his grip with his forelegs and set to fucking me in earnest.
I wasn't ahead of him, this time, and he was soon swelled tight inside me, pushing me forward with small, hard thrusts. It wasn't comfortable, exactly, but it was hot, and I heard myself making the most embarrassing noises ever, cries of pleasure that occasionally spiked high with alarm. Finally, all his weight drooped over me as if he had passed out. I flinched, and when he stayed firmly in me, tried to pull away, which was a mistake. I know dogs swell, I'd felt him swell, I just hadn't thought about it, and there was this instinctive panic at being stuck, and then a reaction to the pain.
"Harry." Suddenly it was Sirius on me -- god, in me. He wrapped his arms a little more around my chest. "Hold still, baby."
"Sorry, I've never-- That was stupid--"
"S'alright." He kissed the back of my neck. "Stay still."
I wanted to tell him that it wasn't all right, that I'd hurt myself trying to pull off the dog's cock, but he was already easing his deflating human cock out, and sliding something much thinner back in its place. He murmured a healing spell, and the pain went away.
I didn't know what he wanted. To see if I was still hard? I was, mostly. I was afraid he'd look angry or guilty, but when I did as he said, it was just pure lust in his face as his gaze trailed down my body, lingering at my recovering erection. He edged back. I thought he was going to turn away, but instead, he bent over me and took my cock in his mouth. It was wet and hot and perfect, and I nearly screamed when he lifted his head. He just changed form, though, and then I had a dog there, licking. He lapped a few times at my head, and then went down to my balls to move up in long, slow strokes of his tongue. He kept it up until I was writhing under him, almost but not quite there, desperate for more.
He changed back again, and again took me deep, and I came in his mouth. I had to look. I curled up and watched as he swallowed, then licked me root to tip, taking the last drops on his tongue. Sirius raised his head, then, his eyes burning, and his face hard between the falling tangles of black curls.
There was just a second of uncertainty on that intense face, and then he shifted again. That time, I was sorry to see him change. A great, black dog jumped easily down from my bed and was out the door in three long strides.
"Sirius!" He didn't come back. "Padfoot?
-- Sirius --
I didn't even dare hide in my room after fucking Harry. Honestly, he was my godson! What had I been thinking? I spent the night outside, as a dog, in what was left of the old barn. It leaked rain, and I was miserable, and that felt about right. I came in during the morning and showered. That gave me a little space to think. As my body thawed, the guilt fell away. We had never had the relationship that James and Lily had intended; it was foolish to expect the consequences of that to exist independently. He simply was not a child that I had taken care of. That guilt, however, was replaced by a more honest misery.
I'd always wanted one of my lovers to let me do that -- have them as the dog, I mean. Twice, I'd even suggested it, and from the reactions, quickly pretended to be joking. Now I had someone who wanted me to fuck him as the dog, but not as a man, and I could already tell that this would be worse. I hoped Harry would stay in his room, like he had been for days, until I could get my responses sorted out.
Instead, he came in to the kitchen while I was toasting some bread.
"About last night...." He began hesitantly. He looked taut as a bowstring, and I felt my heart freeze. He had certainly realized I shouldn't be anywhere around him, or at best, would tell me to stay a dog, next time.
"Sorry," I muttered.
"No, there was just-- There's something I forgot."
Wryly, I tried to smile at him. "Like I'm supposed to be taking care of you?"
"No. A different sort of thing." Harry reached out and scooped a hand around the back of my head, and I was so startled that I let him pull me forward and into a soft kiss. I answered it, succumbing to the pleasure of his eager mouth. Not for all the world could I have kept my lips closed against his. Harry kissed unevenly, as if he were not quite sure of his options, and after a moment, I understood -- he hadn't tried much before he left school. With that clear, I let my own tastes assert themselves, exploring his lips and venturing his mouth with my tongue. I was dizzy with pleasure when I stopped.
"Can't do that with a dog," I said breathlessly, looking out at Harry's awed expression. (Not down, much. Harry was nearly my height, now, although slighter in build. I was glad of that.)
"Good thing I have you, then," Harry returned cheekily. I didn't know what to say. Harry's expression became more uncertain as I didn't answer. "You will do that again, won't you?"
I knew I shouldn't say yes, and I couldn't bear to say no. I had to struggle just to find my voice. "I think it was a bad idea for you to come live with me."
Harry scoffed. "Why? I'm a pervert; you're a libertine. It's perfect."
For a moment, I just stared at him, wanting to scream that it wasn't that simple. It was though, or it could be -- exactly that simple, and that didn't mean I couldn't love him still. Abruptly, I lunged forward and shoved him up against the table. I was already hard from that kiss; I wasn't surprised that I was extended when I changed to a dog. I wasn't surprised at how he scrabbled to get his trousers down, or that he conjured lube, or even at how he transfigured the table legs to correct the height. I just fucked him.
I found myself licking at him again, and again finding it limited. I changed back to a form with hands, and wrapped one around his prick.
"How do you want it, baby? Human or dog?"
He reddened, but pushed forward at my face. "Like your mouth like this."
"And my cock like that?"
"Haven't compared, yet."
I liked all the ideas implicit in that 'yet,' and I moved up to suck at his neck. "We'll need to remedy that."
"I have the day free. As it happens."
His voice was shaking with arousal, and I felt elated and giddy and not at all guilty. "Going to have you any time I feel horny," I whispered to him wickedly. "Find you and ask how you want it."
"God," he said. "Yeah." I was pulling on his cock, and he was panting.
"'Course, you can always tell me to get lost," I clarified, although I was pretty sure he knew that.
"Can't see that I'd want to."
We stood there for a moment and grinned at each other like maniacs, which I suppose was apt. I hadn't felt so close to understanding anyone in years. Then I sealed it by taking his cock back into my mouth and working him until he was screaming my name.
I'm not sure how all this started -- how the hell does one get obsessed with dogs on a bloody deserted moor? -- but if it's going to go on, it'll be with me.