Conflict of Interest

The wolf's arms come down on either side of my head, romanesque columns supporting his weight and causing the mattress to bow so far down I think I can feel the hardness of the box spring underneath my back and shoulders. It's not as hard as what I feel sliding along against my inner thigh. In that moment, I find myself wishing I was anything but a mouse. The sense of being exposed and vulnerable is making my heart pound in my chest. I'm concentrating on keeping my body from trembling as prey instinct screams at me to run.

At the contact of his erection with my body, he lets out a soft breath and I feel wetness against my short fur. I fail to stop a shiver as it passes through me. He looks down at me, amber eyes contoured so deeply in black that it almost looks like he's wearing mascara. He's panting, and in his parted muzzle I see teeth that are bigger than most of my finger bones.

This is so wrong, I think as I put a tentative paw against his chest. I'm trying to calm myself by focusing on his slower heartbeat. I don't even know his name. He must smell my fear, and that might be why he's hesitating. I see warmth in those eyes, and gentleness behind the lust.

Slowly, I let my fingers slip down his stomach. I can feel his abs shifting, maybe reacting to my touch, or just anticipating what I'm about to do.

I do an awkward half crunch to actually get between his legs, but as my small, slender fingers wrap around his cock – at least as far as they're able – he grunts, then exhales again. The top of his muzzle wrinkles and I get another look at those sharp teeth when his next breath comes out as a snarl. It sends another shiver down my spine. I can smell the mint of his toothpaste and citrus of the juice he'd been drinking at the brunch.

Legs resting against his thighs, I guide him to where I need him, unable to suppress a gasp when I feel the heat against my most sensitive skin. With a few strokes, I get another groan from him along with enough fluid to soak my ass and the base of my tail. I change my grip and tease him a little longer and feel strangely flattered by how much he's producing. The scent of his arousal is almost overwhelming, though I like it. I've never been with a species that made this much precum, but given how big he is, I'm glad for the lubrication. I didn't think to bring my own on this trip.

I line him up, then look him in the eye. I see an intense scrutiny in the way those gold irises and pointed ears focus on me. I'm not sure if he's having second thoughts, or if he's just wanting to savor the moment. A soft squeak of frustration sounds through the room, and my ears fold down as I realize it came from me.

When he does hunch forward, I swear I see literal stars. Even with that tapered tip, he's thick. Probably thicker than anything I've taken before. I have a high pain tolerance, though, and I know that the reward, once I get used to this, will be worth it. I feel a pressure on one of my shoulders, and it takes me a minute to realize he's holding me down. I've been writhing. I'm breathing in short, loud gasps and recognize I'm close to hyperventilating.

I regain my composure over several long moments while a paw larger than my face slowly strokes a large rounded ear and a calm, steady voice whispers nice things to me. When I'm settled enough to speak with confidence, I offer him a weak smile.

Interspecies romance has an ancient stigma attached to it. It's particularly prevalent between predator and prey species. Things have loosened up over the last few decades, but raw predator-prey instinct is a powerful thing that can be hard to ignore, even vicariously. For the first time in my life, I have a firsthand understanding of just how difficult those instincts can be to control.

I'm not really a hookup guy. Even by rodent standards, I'm short. I spend most of my time studying or doing extracurriculars, so I don't exactly have an athletic build to show off. Those things combined, plus the fact that I'm a bottom like pretty much everyone else, I don't feel like I'm ever going to get much attention at the gay bars that feel like meat markets.