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A Well-Bred Fantasy

For Shadowbot

By Draconicon

Cobb rested his hand on the apartment door, smiling to himself as he imagined what waited for him on the other side. A woman, a spotted gecko female, her spots as gentle and smooth as velvet, the pale scales between them as beautiful and pure as snow. He imagined her, her hair running down along the back of her neck, her eyes bright, her smile soft, but no less eager for that.

He saw it all in his mind's eye, and as he pushed the door open, it was there waiting for him. She was running down the hall straight for him, and Cobb, ever the gentleman, opened his arms for her to leap into.

They embraced, and immediately, their lips found each other's, and they kissed each other deeply. Her scales were soft and cool against his fur, just as he knew that his fur would be the opposite to her.

They walked each other down the hall, their steps knowing the dance quite well. Left, right, left, a spin, all while kissing, all while pulling at this shirt and that button and those infernal straps. The dance of hunger, of pleasure, had already begun.

Cobb pushed them further, further, and further back, dragging his gecko with him towards the bedroom. By the time they reached the doorway, they were both bare from the waist up, her halfway there from the waist down. Her shoes had disappeared, her stockings and panties all that remained, and they were already damp, wet with her need.

He lifted her chin to face him when they finally broke from the kiss again, a soft growl in his voice.

"Need you," he whispered.

"Just as I need you, mon amour."

The soft lilt of her French accent stirred him, and he growled deep in his throat, the feline half-carrying, half-pulling her to the bed. Certainly, he lifted the far lighter female off of her feet and tossed her to the bed, as roughly as a man might still do with his lady and show his affection for her.

He gripped her stockings and pulled them free, dragging them from her legs one by one. The soft smell of her scales and the warmth of her scent between her legs stirred him further, and his self-control threatened to leave him, to slip between his claws and utterly disappear.

But not yet, not yet.

He reached for her panties, slowly wiggling them down. She gasped for him, arching her back, lifting her hips for his ease.

"Oh, my love, it has been so long. Please...have me, take me again. I give everything...I have waited for so long..."

He smiled, both at her and at the wetness that was ever so visible when he pulled her panties away. As he spread her legs, he could see the strands of her juices running between her scales, yet more decoration for her body, yet more loveliness to her.

The puma stood up, huffing as he held onto his self-control for that little bit longer, those few seconds more that were required of him. His muscles tensed as he fought the urge to leap over her, to have her and take her, to grind on her without even pulling himself from his pants. He had been without for so long, needed her care and attention more than words could express, but he reminded himself that he had waited so long, and so he could wait a minute longer.

His pants fell, and with them went his underwear. He stepped out of them, black head fur rippling along his neck, almost burying his ears as he stood back up. His cock, throbbing and twitching with need, swung up and almost slapped against his belly as he stepped away from his pants. The barbs were up, flexing slightly, and he ran his thumb along them, flattening them before allowing them to spring up once more.

His darling, his Fosette, reached out and took her tail in his, a soft curl against it pulling him close.

"Mon amour...please..."

"No. Not the time...for words..."

He laid over her, his hands against her shoulders, taking her smile as permission to hold her, to keep her there. He pinned her beneath his size and his strength, letting his shadow fall over her as he glanced down at her chest. Beautiful and small, just like the rest of her, her breasts barely rose up enough to see with her on her back.

Running a clawed finger over her chest, he gently pulled at one nipple, and she gasped, arching her back up to meet him.

"Tonight, we do not make love."

"Ah? Oh, but why? We have so little time. Please, I beg of you -"

"No."

He held his hand over her mouth, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"Tonight, we breed."

She gasped beneath him, and he brought his shaft to the space between her legs. She lifted her hips again, meeting his shaft with a moan and a whimper. He felt how wet she was, and he pressed down. Her sex resisted, but only for a moment, and only for the difference in size between them. A moment of pressure, and he was inside.

The soft warmth, the clenching wet, it was just what he remembered from so long ago. He closed his eyes, his hair falling over the sides of his head as he saw only darkness, felt only pleasure.

Fosette moaned in his ears, her needs and pleasure as obvious as ever. She was the scream to his whisper, the roar to his silence. He kept his moans soft as he worked his hips, slowly opening her up.

The first gentle thrust brought home how needy she was, how willing she was beneath him. She opened before him, her inner walls parting before his shaft, and as he pulled back, they clenched again. Such soft surfaces, warm and desperate, and they pulled at his barbs as he dragged himself back out of her.

"Oh...oh, mon amour..."

Her hands were pressed to his back, pulling him against her. Every time he pulled back, she would pull with her arms and her legs, dragging him down again, her moans turning to whimpers, as if he might pull away from her at any moment. Forward, back, forward, back, encouraged by her, dragged in by her. She moaned for him, arching her back, her breasts rising and pressing against him.

All the while, he ran his hands down her body, stroking one side of her, then the other. He cupped her face, turning her to look up at him.

There was a moment for a kiss, but neither took it. Instead, they just stared at the one that had captured them for this moment, that provided what they needed.

Cobb's hips never stopped. If anything, they slowly increased in speed. In, out, in, out, each pump making the air wet with the noises of sex and lust. They panted together, their breath hot, their faces wet as they picked up the pace.

In, out, in, out, his sac pounding against her as the sheets rustled and displaced themselves around them. He slid forward, then back, losing his grip at times but always finding it again.

Eventually, the gecko came, and Fosette made no secret of it. She pressed up against him, her eyes closing tightly as she gripped him with fingers and toes and claws and tail, holding him down against her as she clenched down harder than ever on his barbed shaft. Her whimpers and gasps were accompanied by a wetness that was as new as it was flattering, warm and sticky against the base of his shaft.

While she might have been satisfied, he was not. He shifted his grip, moving his arms under her hips, holding her legs higher. He looked her in the eyes, and then went back to thrusting.

His pleasure came first, now. She had had hers, and now, it was his turn.

As she screamed, screamed for him, he thrust faster, deeper. Every thrust was a wet smack, more brutal than before, rougher and firmer. He pinned her to the bed with each movement, and she screamed as her insides felt as if they were going wild.

There was no restraint left to the puma. He had given her what she needed. Now, he took what he needed.

Thrust, thrust, thrust, each one pulling at the barbs at the tip of his cock, dragging him further down that road to his climax. She was so wet that he didn't have to worry about hurting her, didn't have to worry about taking his time, or going too fast, or what friction might be doing. All he had to do was thrust. All he had to do was fuck.

In, out, in, out, his words lost to him. Fosette still moaned, still screamed, but the words meant nothing. Neither of them needed English. They had Lust.

The puma's hips slammed forward again, and again, and again, feeling almost as if he was bruising himself against her. His shaft throbbed, his balls churned. He felt the tingles of pleasure running down his spine, that rising heat from the base of his cock. It was time.

With one last thrust, he buried himself inside of her, seeding her. She clenched down, a second orgasm of hers, a new squeeze and squirt across his groin. Fosette shivered as he laid over her chest, her hand on his head.

"Oh...oh...just like all those letters you wrote...all the promises of what you'd do...what we'd be..."

He nodded, but he was already sliding down, already welcoming the next taste. He had more to do, for he only had one night, and he would make the best of it.

Morning came, and the dawn light burned across the city skyline. Cobb got to his feet, pulling on his pants. He was on his way to his shirt when he heard a little groan from the bed.

"100 more."

The puma paused, looking back at her. She didn't open her eyes, not Fosette, but she knew where he was, pointing at his pocket.

"100 more...for the extra work..."

"Heh..."

He reached for his wallet, pulling out another $100. Laying it on the nightstand, he reached down and gave her hand a squeeze. She returned it, rolling on her side.

"The letters were a nice touch. Do more of that next time."

"Mmmph."

He patted her back, then left the bedroom, getting dressed as he walked. Expensive, but a cost worth paying.

Cobb. That was yet another alias that would be burned in the future, but for now, it worked. They worked, understood each other.

He hoped that would last for a while, but at least it lasted for now.

The End

Summary: Cobb, a puma, returns home from a job to the affections of a wonderful woman. But is everything so sacred as it seems?

Tags: M/F, puma, gecko, vaginal, cum, orgasm, squirt, creampie, breeding, prostitution, zinger, affection,