Vixenscratch

Judas closed the textbook he’d been poring over when his phone rang, with barely a glance at the display – he wouldn’t recognize the number anyway – before pressing the button to take the call and lifting it to his ear. He was acutely aware of Ian bent over a sheaf of sheet music a little further over in their shared dorm room, and wasn’t entirely comfortable with the bear’s presence. Not during a call like this. But it wasn’t the first time and if it became the last his time at the university would soon be over, anyway, so he only took care to make sure his side of the conversation was as innocuous as humanly possible.

 “This is Judas.” If he hadn’t had so many years of practise saying his own name, and experience hearing it, it probably would have been even more difficult to keep his tone level as he gave that greeting.

“You the flashy ferret I met at the club the other night, bought you dinner, right?”

Apparently the man on the other end was at least starting out as careful as Judas himself was. “That’s me.”

“Say I wanted to have you take care of a… problem I’ve been having… What would I owe you for your time?”

Judas hesitated for a moment. That description, innocuous enough that it at least would not immediately draw the attention of random passers-by, left too much open for him to be able to immediately want to give a number. He couldn’t well recite some sort of price list with Ian in the room, and pushing a potential customer to out himself to whoever might be nearby was a good way of making sure his side income dried up in a hurry. “Depends on how long it takes, and what kind of equipment’s needed.”

“I’ll take care of the equipment,” the man promised, an implication that he wanted something which would require a condom, at least. “Shouldn’t be more than a half-hour job.”

“Twenty, including my fare? Where do I meet you at?”

He received directions, and shortly thereafter he rose from his seat, stretching and moving towards the door. At Ian’s inquiry, he simply answered that an aquaintance needed an odd favor – not an entirely dishonest answer – and was going to pay for his time if he could come immediately. All in all, it wasn’t more than ten minutes before he was on a bus, carrying no more money than would cover his fare back from his destination along with a couple of sample packets of lubricant from the student health office in an inner pocket of his jacket, and only another five after that before he stepped off the bus at a stop that definitely wasn’t high-traffic, in an area of town that he’d be hard pressed to call even decent. If he’d realized just where the bus stop he’d been directed to was, he might have protested a little. It was a small blessing, then, that he didn’t have much on him to lose should bad come to worse.

His ears lay half-flat as he hesitantly walked along the narrow sidewalk, following the directions he’d been given over the phone. There weren’t many people around, and the few he saw were hustling along almost pointedly minding their own business. It wasn’t a surprise, considering their behavior, that his client had picked this area, however unsavory it seemed. Judas couldn’t imagine anyone who’d be proud of patronizing a legal prostitute, and going to him, doing it all under the table, wasn’t something he’d imagine anyone wanting their friends or coworkers to accidentally find out about.

His path led him to a building that only on careful examination revealed itself to have rooms for rent. A surly-looking, heavyset toucan hen glanced up as he entered through a front door where one pane of glass had been replaced with particle board, and waved him down a corridor with an impatient jerk of her wrist, as though having him in her field of vision was somehow costing her time. He scurried down the advised hallway until he reached a halfway-open door, inside which the man who’d called him waited.

He was larger than Judas, but then most people he met were. The cougar stood only an inch or two taller, but his build was, without crossing over into anything the polecat might term fat, significantly broader than Judas’s own lanky frame. The man’s suit jacket and tie were already draped across the back of a chair, and the first couple of buttons of his shirt were undone. For a moment they stood just inside the door, looking at each other, and then the large cat reached past his temporary guest-for-hire and pulled the door shut, twisting the lock to ensure what privacy the building’s paper-thin walls could offer.

“Are you in a hurry?” the man asked, as he returned to unbuttoning his shirt.

Judas shook his head, taking the hint and removing first his jacket, then the well-worn shirt he’d been wearing under it. “No, sir,” came his muffled voice from inside the shirt as he was pulling it over his head. “Something in mind?”

“We’ll see.” The answer was cryptic, but it was good enough for Judas. Sure, he’d met this man before, had been treated to a fairly decent seafood dinner in trade for the service, but if things didn’t click today, it would only be awkward for them both to make long-reaching plans.

They undressed individually, and while he allowed Judas to stroke him hard, the feline businessman opted to slide the condom onto his own cock. He had brought his own lubricant, which he seemingly haphazardly slathered onto his covered length before directing Judas to the bed, covered in rough sheets that would be easy to change and wash.

The polecat followed the directions with all the benevolent willingness he could muster, kneeling on all fours on the edge of the piece of furniture as to give his benefactor the chance to enter his body standing. The token attempt to prepare him for the coming intrusion was about as haphazard as the lubricating of the cougar’s own member; a lube-slick hand pressed against bare skin under his tail, doing more to wipe off excess than to help him prepare. Judas drew a deep breath and held it in his lungs, knowing that it would help him relax.

The cat did not, mercifully, thrust in, but rather spread him with a slow, steady pressure, firm enough to make him bite back a whimper of discomfort. He could feel the rubber-encased glans sliding deeper into him with the inevitability of gravity as the cat leaned in, closer and closer, hands on the skinny young male’s hips keeping him steady as he was spread by an invader that felt larger on the inside than it had looked or felt when he’d had it in his hand. As it found its way deeper into him, it seemed to leave little room for the breath he’d held, and it slipped out in a white-knuckled moan consisting half of pleasure, half of the not-exactly pain that meant he’d be feeling this session even after it was over.

When hips met hips, the cougar paused only long enough to reposition his hands, spreading them over Judas’s shamefully bright lower back before pulling back as slowly and ponderously as he’d pushed in. The polecat’s ears twisted around of their own accord to catch the heavy sigh the man breathed, and he found a grain of disappointment somewhere inside himself when he for a moment thought his client intended to withdraw entirely. Disappointment that had nothing whatsoever to do with potentially lost income.

The cougar’s technique was by far not the best Judas had experienced, and he fuzzily recalled that when they’d first met, he’d been far closer to being in control, straddling the man’s hips rather than having the cat thrust into him from a position that gave the man more leverage than he himself had. It didn’t matter much to him; the point of these men and women paying him for his time was for them, not him, to draw enjoyment out of it.

Even so he squirmed slightly as the man’s pace picked up, adjusting the angle of his slow strokes by adjusting the position of his own body, and moaning and clutching at the sheets when he got it right. That response, apparently, was the right one; he could hear the cougar’s breath getting heavier, and he could feel fingers clutching at his fur, the more he showed enjoyment of his side of the encounter. Before too long, the cat leaned forward,only slightly, and slid one of his hands around Judas’s hip, down to grasp his now-hard cock.

The marbled polecat’s eyes widened in surprise as that hand started to stroke him, unprepared as he was for the man who’d started their encounter out so impersonally to suddenly take an interest in Judas’s own pleasure. Between that hand – which showed all the skill and finesse that the firm flesh filling his ass didn’t – and the stimulation he was still getting from being fucked, the thin youth found himself driven farther, faster, than he’d planned on.

Too fast, and too sudden, to try to hold back, was his climax, spattering the sheets below and tearing loud moans from his throat. The hand milking his cock slowed down, merely gently squeezing in counterpoint with the man’s thrusts, and even that was enough to keep Judas moaning, his arms starting to tremble under his weight as the barrage of sensations built up to the point of being overwhelming.

And then, just when he was starting to think he could not possibly take any more, the cougar’s hips gave a sharp shove, and the cougar’s lips gave a sharp grunt, and that onslaught of pleasure all but stopped completely as the cat’s hand fell from his cock to catch its owner’s weight against the bed before the polecat was crushed underneath.

A few moments passed when the only sounds in the room were the heavy breathing of its two inhabitants, and then the cougar straightened up and pulled out, his breath a hiss. Almost immediately, Judas followed, standing up straight on legs that still felt slightly unsteady and stretching out his back as he discreetly waited for a cue from his client.

“I could use a shower,” the cat said, at length, tilting his head towards a half-open door to a cramped, tiled bathroom with the grout so full of mildew it just might have been done black on purpose. “I’ll cover the extra time if you join me.”

Judas found himself nodding before he’d even really thought about the offer – it was an innocuous enough way to earn even a little bit of extra much-needed cash, even if it was something he wasn’t accustomed to doing. At least, it turned out, the otherwise run-down building could produce satisfactorily hot water, and even the spray that was most of what hit Judas after most of the water had sluiced down over the larger male was enough to make him feel like he was reaping some benefit from the situation.

He didn’t mind, at all, helping the large cat wash his back, working coarse fur-wash that was still a step up from the cheap shampoo he usually bought into the man’s coat and then forcing water in to rinse it out, and it wasn’t a bad feeling at all to know that he’d be returning to his dorm clean rather than immediately needing to grab a shower. It was about when he would have called them both done, that he felt the cougar touch his shoulder, and squinted against the spray of water to meet his amber gaze.

“I know this is a bit of an odd request, but… I’ll make it an even hundred if you’ll wash my feet for me.” The cat’s ears tilted back in what seemed like embarrassment, and his and came up to lightly grip Judas’s jaw. “With… with your tongue. That be okay with you?”

The question gave him a lot more pause than the invitation to a shared shower had been. The man had been discreet on the phone. He had been respectful considering their power imbalance, and more considerate than Judas had expected of him after the slightly rough start their initial transaction had come off to. What he was asking was… strange, and not at all Judas’s thing, but nothing that would hurt him. It wasn’t even as though the man’s feet were dirty; Judas had seen him apply soap to them only minutes before.  And the sum he was offering was nothing short of fantastic to the polecat who was used to having so little.

It was probably the money that sealed the deal. But what did that matter; the important part was that he inclined his head and knelt there on the tile while his client leaned back and clutched at a thoughtlessly-placed heavy-duty towel rod for balance.

With a reverence that was entirely faked, Judas lifted the first of the man’s feet, running his fingers along it as he bent lower to bring his muzzle closer. For a moment, he wondered what he’d gotten himself into, then he collected himself and parted his jaws, licking daintily at one of the cat’s toes.

It didn’t taste badly – all he could taste was really water and a few stray hairs that he could just as easily gotten into his mouth licking someone’s cheek or balls – and though he had trouble hearing anything over the spatter of the water all around him, he got the impression that his willingness to try something new was appreciated. The next lick he placed was bolder, his tongue forcing water out of the man’s fur as he ran it along the side of that long, tawny-furred foot. Receiving no indication that he was on the wrong track, he continued, covering every furry area of the man’s foot, from ankle to claws, twisting his lithe body to make sure he could always move his tongue with the grain of the fur.

Somehow, his work still felt unfinished, and for the price the man was willing to pay him, he was willing to put forth some extra effort. The expression on his face as he shifted and glanced up was somewhere approximating adoring, and he saw approval on the cougar’s face past the man’s once-again hard shaft as he parted his jaws and carefully took one of his toes into his mouth to gently suck on it.

All four of the cougar’s toes received the same treatment, and then he gently, reverently, lowered the now “clean” foot to the tile. Fancying he had a bit more of an idea of what he was doing, now, he repositioned himself somewhat, leaning down in a kneeling bow without lifting the cat’s other foot, and placed a trail of kisses up it, toes to ankle. It was a strange, near-herectical feeling, affecting worship for a body part, but Judas didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t let his mind linger on that.

By the time he was ready to slip his lips around the first of the man’s toes, he could definitely hear clear signs of approval from somewhere up above him, and when he, digit in mouth with his tongue gently lapping at it, chanced to glance up he had to hurry to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid getting stung by the very tangible proof of that approval that his client’s right hand had squeezed out while he worked.

He could feel it, and smell it, spatter onto his face, and paused from his task long enough to let the water from the shower wash those traces from his upturned face.

When he finally set the cougar’s other foot down and rose off his now slightly sore knees, there was a satisfaction on the man’s face that he’d not seen there before they’d entered the ill-kept bathroom.

When he left, only passably dry under his clothes, it was with a larger bill than he could recall owning in his life tucked safely into a different inner pocket from the change that would pay his fare back to the dorms. It was almost like having a buffer.

Filed under:
I.C.Q., The Fall of Judas by quoting_mungo