Malachy one shots

Lost in France (incest)

Content warning- Contains mature content and knife play, blood, furries, gayness, French people, croissants, master kink, incest

I've always wanted to be a fashion designer, though I up in a small minded town where the only materials were flannel and denim. It's been three days since I arrived in Paris. I had to save up three years worth of my part time job to get a one way ticket here. The thing is, is I don't speak any french. I came here with absolutely no plan and now it's been three days of being homeless because I don't have enough left over savings for hotels.
I have barely enough money to feed myself for the week. I don't know what I'm going to do to get out of this mess. I've been going to countless job interviews but all of them seem to require at least a basic knowledge of french.
Luckily I found a super cheap pastry shop and I've been buying all my food from there. The boy that works the cash register is the owners son, so he's there all the time. He really is adorable.
French boys.
We've made eye contact a lot but he knows I can't speak a word of french and I assume he can't speak a word of english, so that's that I guess.
The line finally recedes and it's my turn to order. Cute french boy smiles and just takes out my usual without speaking. He hands me three cheese croissants in a paper bag and nods at me sweetly. His dimples never fading from his ample cheeks. The way his soft black curls caress his face the way I wish I could. His gentle freckles reaching the tip of his button nose and hazel eyes to die for.
My thoughts are a blur of hazel and freckles when I smack face first into a person. They're very muscular and definitely taller than I am. I look up slightly trembling as I do. I'm met by eyes of fiery blue and grey stubble. He's gorgeous and his expression seems sweet and gentle though I've just landed on him. I shove off his body apologizing madly as I do.
I notice the lack of warmth in my hands and look down to see my croissants tumbled across the floor. I slump in defeat and begin to panic as my savings become infested with dirt. If I was alone I'd pick these up off the floor but I'd rather starve then let Cute French Boy see me eat floor food.
I stare at my feet disappointedly and begin to pick up the remains of my almost-breakfast.
"Trois croissants au fromage s'il vous plait, merci." Said the tall dilf of a man that I just rammed into.
After a few moments of waiting the man hands me a new paper bag and says, "Here, sorry about your food." He pouts genuinely.
This guy speaks english AND IS SEXY AS F@CK.
Oh, France, you've done it again.
"Oh, um, I can't accept this. Please take it back." I hold out the bag towards him and my stomach growls embarrassingly loud.
"It sounds like you need it more than I do," the man chuckles.
I bow my head in shame and accept the bag. I start walking away but get a sudden rush and turn back around.
"Wait, I haven't been able to meet anyone here and I don't speak any french could you maybe help me out?" I ask the man.
"Sure," he reaches for the inside of his pocket, "Call me whenever." He hands me a business card with his number on it.
Wow he must be important, there's a company logo on here that I'll definitely be stalking later. As soon as I'm out of sight I whip out my dying phone and look up the name on the card, "Holland Industries".
I found out it's some major architecture firm with a net worth of like 2 billion dollars. I've been stalking a few wikipedia pages on it until I found one about the founder and CEO.
Jack Holland.
I look at the picture, rub my eyes aggressively and look back. It's the guy from the store. THE MAN WHO JUST BOUGHT ME CROISSANTS OWNS A 2 BILION DOLLAR COMPANY. Okay breathe Malachy.
I should've demanded like fifty more croissants. He's so rich it's insane, what was he doing shopping at that cheap cafe?
I have to call him. Wait, no. I can't seem too desperate. Well I am desperate. Whatever i'm calling him. It's been two hours since I saw him it'll be fine.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ri—
"Bonjour, Holland Industries, comment puis je vous aider?" A chirpy voice says.
"Oh, uh, bonjour."
"Anglais? Sorry, Holland Industries, how may I help you?"
"Could I speak to, uh, Mr Holland?"
"I'm afraid he's very busy, unless you have an appointment?"
"Uh, no appointment, could you tell him the guy from the cafe called?"
"Oh, I'll transfer your call right away."
Music begins to play from the other line. I thought he was busy. Did he tell his assistant about me?
"Hello?"
"Oh, hi. It's me, Croissant Guy."
"Croissant Guy ,of course." He laughs quietly, "Do you have a real name?"
"Oh it's uh Malachy."
"Malachy," He tests my name. God it sounds so good coming from his mouth, "I like it. I'm—"
"Rich as f4ck," I interrupt
"Jack," he continues and then laughs, "Yeah, that too I suppose. I hope that won't be a problem."
"A problem? Of course it won't, as long as you buy me dinner." I say without thinking.
Regret slaps me across the face and I prepare myself to apologise when he says, "That sounds like a plan. Where can I pick you up?"
"Uh, uh," I can't tell him to show up at the street Im living on, "How about I come to you?"
"Alright sure. Is six okay?"
"Oh yeah sure." That's five hours away.
"Okay, perfect, see you then."
He hangs up and panic floods me. I don't have anything to wear; I came here with just the clothes on my back and deodorant obviously.
It's time. Should I really put in all my cash to a taxi? I guess so. Let's pray I find a winning lottery ticket within the night.
I manage to explain where to go to the driver and ask to use his phone charger.
Once I got there I reluctantly gave away my money and skipped into the glorious building. I make my way to his office and his assistant tells me she wouldn't usually let people go in but she'd make an acception for me.
I knock once before opening the sleek, tinted glass door to his office. My eyes land on an odd silhouette.
He's wearing a suit.
Not a suit, more like a costume.
A full body Dalmatian costume.
He. Is. A. Furry.
I've heard about this before. I didn't think it was a real thing. Confusion consumes me and yet I've never been more aroused.
He's been frozen since I walked in.
"I can explain," he begins slowly.
I close the door behind me not breaking my gaze with fake eyes of his suit.
He gasps slightly and my hormones take control. I pin him against the wall and ask breathily for consent. He chokes out a Yes.
"God, I want you, Jack."
"No, call me Spots." He shushes me with his gloved finger.
"Okay, Spots," I growl making him shudder, "In that case you can call me, Master."
"O-okay, Master."
I marvel in his submission and order him to bend over the table.
"What about my clothes, Master?"
I hug his waist and reach his false ear whispering, "We'll keep them on."
I grab a surprisingly sharp letter opener off his desk and cut open the fabric covering his lower half. The letter opener pierced some of his skin causing blood to drip down his firm as$. He winced at the pain. The sight made my length harden painfully.
I lap up the trail of blood slowly causing Spots to hesitantly moan.
I whip out my member and pump it a few times, holding the tip near his entrance. Precum already glazing the tip.
"Are you ready?"
"Y-yes."
"Yes who?"
"Yes, M-Master."
"Good dog."
I spit on him and stick in one then two fingers to stretch his tight hole. I pump my curled fingers in and out a few times, earning some stifled moans before I force in all 9 inches of my manhood. He screams but the sound is muffled with the head of his outfit on.
"Good dogs only speak when their masters let them," I growl before trailing the shape of his a$s with the letter opener.
"Beg for my forgiveness," I say while wildly quickening the pace of my thrusts.
The desk rattles back and forth as Spots tries to string together competent words.
"I... am... UH SO... s-SORRY."
"Oh no, bad dog. You didn't do it right," I twirl the point of the letter opener against his skin, "Punishment time." I pull out and slash the blade across his sensitive skin; blood seeps out quickly and I violently slap my hand against the cheek with the wound. He almost screams in pain but I can tell he bites down on his lip instead.
"Let's try this again, but this time try obeying me," I scratch behind his ears, "Got it, Spots?"
"Yes, Master," he says, his voice raw from tears.
"Good boy."
I teasingly trace my finger around his rosebud letting it slip in just barely occasionally. I can feel him getting restless under my touch.
"Do you want something from your Master?" I ask.
"Yes."
"Then use your words." I continue to slowly insert my middle finger.
"I-I want you to fuck me, Master. I want you to fuck me with your massive c0ck."
"You're such a good dog, Spots." I pat his head vigorously.
I press the tip of my manhood against his entrance with barely any pressure.
"Please, Master," he whimpers.
"Wait, you have to be lubed up don't you." I smirk to myself.
He groans quietly as I let my spit slowly drip down him. I massage the spit into him and he continues to whimper.
"Please, Ma—OHH."
He's cut off my my member slamming into him repeatedly. Giving us both a sense of relief. He moans so loudly, I consider punishing him but the sounds he make are like music to my ears. I continue to ram myself deep inside him. We are both moaning messes. I feel my climax becoming closer as his walls clench around me.
"I-I'm going to c—"
I yank myself out of him and he whimpers loudly. I'm almost dizzied from all the blood in my member.
My fingers slowly dance through his legs and I steadily wrap my hand around the base of his length. He gasps to himself as I begin pumping it. He's so almost as big as me. I quicken the pace of my hand and slam my member back into him and he starts to scream in pleasure. He squirms around me.
"I-I'm going to... c-c-AWHH."
He came all over the inside of his suit and I keep pounding into him. I grab his hips to force myself deeper into him and he grips his desk so violently it might just snap. After a few moments I reach my high, filling  him with my hot seed and dropping onto his back.
"I guess we missed out reservations then," I say.
"What reservations?"
"We were supposed to get dinner together."
"What? We never said we would do that."
"What?"
Spots takes off his head revealing...

1,973 words ;) cliffhanger oooooo