Chapter 5: Submission at Sunrise
The stale taste of morning coated Arthur’s tongue as consciousness seeped back in. Sunlight, weak and dusty, filtered through the cheap blinds, striping the rumpled sheets. He lay still, the silence of the apartment pressing in, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator. Last night flooded back, vivid and visceral: Fritz’s sleek black fur under his hands, the desperate heat of his own need, the raw, animalistic sounds ripped from Fritz’s throat as Arthur finally claimed him against the wall. The memory sent a fresh jolt of arousal straight to his groin, his cock already thickening against his thigh. He could almost feel the phantom ache in his own muscles, a mirror to Fritz’s soreness, a shared testament to the ferocity of their coupling. Satisfaction warred with a deeper, unfamiliar hunger. Control, once seized, was addictive.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the worn carpet rough beneath his feet. Padding through the quiet apartment, past stacks of untouched magazines and the perpetually flickering TV screen, he headed for the bathroom. The scent of old books and faint dust mingled with something else now – a lingering musk, primal and intimate.
Pushing the bathroom door open, the brighter light made him blink. Fritz was there, leaning casually against the sink counter, meticulously cleaning a claw. His sleek fur caught the fluorescent light, a ripple of obsidian. He looked utterly at ease, though Arthur noted the slight stiffness in his posture when he shifted. Fritz’s piercing green eyes lifted, meeting Arthur’s in the mirror reflection. A slow, knowing smile spread across his feline face, revealing sharp white teeth.
"Mornin’, tiger," Fritz purred, his voice thick with sleep and amusement. He turned, leaning his hips back against the cool porcelain. His tail flicked lazily, deliberately brushing against Arthur’s bare leg. "Sleep well? Or were you dreaming about… last night?" His gaze dropped pointedly to Arthur’s tented pajama bottoms.
Arthur felt a flush creep up his neck. The shyness was still there, buried deep, but it was being rapidly eroded by the heat Fritz effortlessly stoked. He cleared his throat, stepping closer. The small room felt charged. "Couldn’t stop thinking about it," Arthur admitted, his voice rougher than he intended. He reached out, his fingers tracing the dense fur along Fritz’s flank, feeling the powerful muscle beneath. "About how you felt… how fucking tight you were."
Fritz arched into the touch, a low rumble vibrating in his chest. "Mmm, sore as hell, thanks to you." He didn’t sound displeased. His hand came up, claws retracted, and brushed against Arthur’s erection through the thin fabric. Arthur hissed, jerking forward instinctively. "Still lookin’ hungry though," Fritz murmured, his green eyes gleaming with challenge. He tilted his hips forward slightly, presenting himself. "Bet that sink counter’s nice and cold."
The challenge in Fritz’s voice, the implicit offer gleaming in those green eyes, shattered Arthur’s fragile restraint. He surged forward, fingers tangling roughly in the dense fur at the back of Fritz’s neck. "Fuck your sore," Arthur growled, his voice thick with a need that bypassed thought. He yanked Fritz around, slamming the feline’s front hard against the cold porcelain of the sink counter, the impact rattling the faucet.
"Arthur—" Fritz gasped, surprise flickering briefly before settling into a low, expectant rumble. He braced his paws on the counter, pushing his sleek, black-furred ass back invitingly against Arthur’s groin. Arthur’s other hand clamped onto Fritz’s hip, fingers digging into fur and muscle, holding him firmly in place. The cool surface beneath Fritz contrasted sharply with the radiating heat Arthur could feel building between them.
Arthur didn’t waste time. With a rough shove, he pushed Fritz’s head down towards his crotch, the waistband of his pajamas already straining. He forced Fritz’s muzzle against the damp fabric where his cock strained, thick and demanding. "Smell it," Arthur commanded, his voice ragged. "That’s what you do to me. Every fucking morning. Smell how fucking hard you make me." Fritz inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring, a shudder running through his powerful frame, his own erection clearly tenting the fur between his legs.
Arthur fumbled his cock free, the flushed, heavy weight springing out inches from Fritz’s mouth. He tightened his grip on Fritz’s neck. "Open," he ordered, his knuckles white. Fritz obeyed instantly, lips parting, revealing the pink of his tongue. Arthur guided the swollen head past Fritz’s lips, groaning as wet heat enveloped him. Fritz’s green eyes rolled up to meet his, pupils blown wide, as he eagerly took Arthur deeper.
Fritz hollowed his cheeks, sucking with obscene expertise. His tongue swirled around the sensitive crown, lapping at the slit where pre-cum beaded. Arthur hissed, hips jerking involuntarily, forcing another inch down Fritz’s willing throat. The feline purred deeply, the vibration traveling straight up Arthur’s shaft, making his thighs tremble. "Oh, fuck, yeah… suck it," Arthur panted, watching Fritz’s muzzle stretch obscenely around his girth.
Fritz pulled back slightly, lips slick with spit, only to engulf Arthur again, taking him impossibly deep. He sucked hard, drawing the entire length in, nose pressed firmly against Arthur’s pubic bone. Arthur could feel the constricting muscles of Fritz’s throat working, milking him. Then Fritz moved lower, his rough tongue rasping over Arthur’s heavy balls, licking and sucking each one, making Arthur gasp and curse. "Filthy fucking cat… suck those balls… harder…" Fritz complied eagerly, nuzzling, licking, worshipping Arthur’s sac with focused intensity.
Arthur grabbed Fritz’s head again, dragging him back up to his cock. "Finish it," he gasped, thrusting shallowly against Fritz’s face. "Take it all." Fritz sealed his lips around the shaft, sucking with relentless pressure. Arthur felt the pressure coil unbearably tight in his balls. "Fuck! Gonna cum!" He thrust deep one last time, burying himself to the hilt in Fritz’s throat, and roared as his orgasm erupted. Thick, hot ropes of cum pulsed violently down Fritz’s gullet.
Arthur held Fritz there, shuddering, as the last tremors subsided. He released his grip slightly, allowing Fritz to pull back. Strings of pearly white seed coated Fritz’s muzzle and chin. Instead of swallowing the remnants, Fritz lunged upward, capturing Arthur’s lips in a hard, messy kiss. He forced Arthur’s mouth open, sharing the thick, salty tang of Arthur’s own cum. Arthur gagged slightly at the unexpected intimacy, the primal taste, but Fritz’s tongue probed insistently, demanding he accept it.
The taste of himself mingled with Fritz’s unique musk was strangely potent. Arthur pushed back into the kiss, their tongues tangling wetly. He could feel Fritz’s hard cock pressing against his thigh. Without breaking the kiss, Arthur spun Fritz around, slamming his back against the sink. He grabbed Fritz’s muscular thighs, lifting him roughly onto the counter, sending a bottle clattering into the basin. Fritz wrapped his legs around Arthur’s waist, claws pricking Arthur’s skin.
Arthur spat into his hand, slicking his cock which was miraculously hard again, throbbing with renewed need. He lined himself up with Fritz’s tight, furred entrance, still stretched from the night before but yielding. "Look at me," Arthur growled, gripping Fritz’s hips. Fritz locked his intense green gaze on Arthur’s, tail lashing wildly. Arthur shoved forward in one brutal thrust. Fritz cried out, a sharp, feline yelp that melted into a deep, guttural groan as Arthur buried himself to the balls.
"Fucking tight," Arthur gasped, hips already pistoning. He drove into Fritz with savage strokes, the sink banging against the wall with each impact. Fritz raked claws down Arthur’s back, drawing thin lines of fire, his head thrown back, fangs bared. "Harder! Fuck me harder, Arthur! Own it!" Fritz snarled, meeting every punishing thrust with a roll of his hips. Arthur bent forward, capturing Fritz’s mouth again in a bruising kiss, swallowing his moans. Their bodies slammed together, skin slick with sweat, the air thick with the sounds of flesh meeting flesh, desperate grunts, and the rhythmic rattle of the sink. Arthur’s release built again, fierce and fast, fueled by the raw, dominating power surging through him. "Gonna fill you up again," he panted against Fritz’s lips. "Take it all, you fucking gorgeous beast." Fritz just dug his claws in deeper, urging him on.
Arthur snarled, the sound rough and primal, as he pistoned his hips relentlessly. Fritz’s tight heat clamped down on his cock, milking him, the friction unbearable. Each brutal thrust shoved Fritz hard against the unyielding porcelain, the sink groaning in protest against the wall. "Fucking take it!" Arthur growled, his fingers digging bruises into Fritz's furred hips, watching the ripple of muscle in the feline's back with possessive intensity. "All of it, you needy slut!" Fritz’s responding cry was choked, half-pain, half-ecstasy, his claws scoring deeper tracks down Arthur’s sweat-slicked back. His tail lashed wildly, smacking against the tile, a frantic counterpoint to the wet slap of Arthur’s balls against his ass.
"Yours," Fritz gasped, the word ragged, forced out between Arthur’s punishing drives. "God, Arthur… fill me!" His green eyes were glazed, pupils blown wide with submission and raw need, fixed unseeing on the streaked mirror. The sight, the desperate surrender, ignited Arthur’s core. He felt the pressure surge, volcanic, unstoppable. With a final, grunting roar that echoed off the bathroom walls, Arthur slammed home and emptied himself deep inside Fritz’s clenching channel. Thick pulses of cum flooded the feline’s ass, hot and claiming. Arthur shuddered violently, holding Fritz impaled, grinding his hips to push every last drop into that willing, sore hole. Fritz convulsed around him, a high whine escaping his throat, his own neglected cock pulsing against his belly, spilling streaks of white onto his dark fur.
Panting, slick with sweat, Arthur finally eased back. His cock slid free with a wet, obscene sound, leaving Fritz gaping and trembling, cum already leaking onto the counter. Arthur stared, transfixed by the mess he’d made, the raw evidence of his possession. Fritz slumped bonelessly against the sink, his breath coming in shallow gasps, fur matted. He turned his head slowly, a slow, utterly sated smirk spreading across his muzzle despite his obvious exhaustion. "Round… round two?" he rasped, the challenge flickering weakly but unmistakably in his eyes.
Arthur felt it instantly, the answering jolt in his spent cock. Impossible. Unthinkable. Yet there it was, hardening again with terrifying speed, fueled by the sheer audacity, the complete surrender he saw in Fritz’s battered form. He grabbed Fritz’s arm, hauling him roughly off the counter. Fritz stumbled, legs shaky, but Arthur didn’t slow. He dragged him, stumbling and naked, out of the bathroom.
Fritz’s legs gave out completely in the narrow hallway. He collapsed onto the worn carpet, landing on hands and knees. Arthur didn't hesitate. He kicked Fritz’s legs wider apart, his gaze fixed on the puffy, reddened hole glistening with his own seed. The need was a physical ache, sharper than before. He spat onto his palm, slicking his renewed erection, the head already flushed an angry red. "Stay down," he commanded, his voice hoarse. Fritz lowered his head between his shoulders, trembling, his tail curling submissively over his back, presenting himself utterly. Arthur positioned himself, gripped Fritz’s hips hard, and slammed back in to the hilt. Fritz cried out, a sharp yelp muffled by the carpet, then pushed back, meeting Arthur’s thrust. "Fuck!Yes! Use me!" Arthur fucked him hard and fast on the hallway floor, the rhythm brutal, focused, the carpet fibers scratching Fritz’s knees. He came again quickly this time, a hot, stinging rush deep inside, grunting as he emptied himself, collapsing briefly over Fritz’s back, feeling the rapid heartbeat against his chest.
Later, tangled on the worn couch amidst the stacks of forgotten magazines, Fritz lay on his back, legs hooked over Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur pounded into him with deep, grinding strokes. The air hung thick with musk and sweat and the faint, acrid smell of ancient paper. Fritz’s green eyes were locked on Arthur’s face, mesmerized. "Look at you," Arthur breathed, sweat dripping from his brow onto Fritz’s chest fur. "Look how you take it. Like you were fucking made for this cock." Fritz moaned, long and low, his claws flexing against Arthur’s biceps. "Made for yours," he panted, writhing. "Only yours." Arthur felt the familiar tightening, the surge, and roared as he came, flooding Fritz’s core for the third time that day.
The weak afternoon sun slanted across the rumpled bed sheets where Fritz knelt, head down, ass up, patiently waiting. Arthur traced the claw marks on his own arms, the scratches on Fritz’s back, the sticky residue on Fritz’s thighs. His cock, though aching, felt heavy, spent, yet still somehow hungry. He moved behind Fritz, his hand landing possessively on the curve of the feline’s ass. He pressed two fingers against Fritz’s abused entrance, feeling the swollen heat, the slight give. Fritz shivered, a soft whimper escaping him. "Please," he whispered into the sheets, the word barely audible. Arthur slicked himself slowly, deliberately, watching Fritz’s tail twitch in anticipation. He pushed in, not fast this time, but with excruciating slowness, stretching the tender flesh. Fritz gasped, his body clenching then forcibly relaxing, accepting the thick invasion. "So full," he managed, his voice thick. Arthur began to move, a slow, deep, relentless grind, drawing out every sensation, every gasp, every shudder. It was less about explosive release now, more about possession, about imprinting himself deep within Fritz’s very being. He fucked him like that for a long time, sweat dripping onto Fritz’s fur, until the light faded from gold to grey outside the window. Arthur’s final orgasm was a deep, shuddering pulse, less a flood now than a slow, claiming seep. He stayed buried deep, holding Fritz close as they both trembled, utterly spent.
Night had fallen, shrouding the cluttered apartment in deep shadow. They lay tangled on the bed, skin slick, fur damp, breathing ragged. Fritz’s head rested on Arthur’s heaving chest. The scent of sex, sweat, and their mingled bodies was overwhelming. Arthur traced the curve of Fritz’s ear, feeling the warmth, the life. Fritz nuzzled closer, a deep, exhausted purr rumbling in his chest – a sound Arthur hadn’t heard before, soft and utterly content. Arthur stared at the dark ceiling, the echoes of the day’s raw hunger still vibrating in his muscles, a profound exhaustion settling deep in his bones. Fritz shifted slightly, wincing, then settled again with a sigh. "Tomorrow?" Fritz murmured, the word a sleepy challenge against Arthur’s skin. Arthur’s hand tightened reflexively on Fritz’s flank. His cock gave a feeble, almost painful twitch. He closed his eyes.
The dull throb in Arthur’s groin was a cruel joke after the day’s brutal expenditure. Closing his eyes offered no escape, only amplifying the scent of sweat, sex, and Fritz’s warm musk clinging to the sheets. Fritz’s sleepy purr vibrated against his chest, a contented counterpoint to Arthur’s utter physical depletion. His body felt hollowed out, muscles leaden, every nerve ending raw and oversensitive. Too much. Just… sleep. But Fritz shifted, the movement a deliberate, sinuous slide.
Arthur felt the weight lift as Fritz pushed himself up on one elbow. In the dim light filtering past the blinds, Fritz’s green eyes gleamed, wide awake and predatory, fixed on Arthur’s face. His gaze dropped, lingering pointedly on the limp flesh resting against Arthur’s thigh. A slow, knowing smirk curled his lips. "Tired, master?" Fritz murmured, the title laced with thick, mocking syrup. He trailed a single claw, retracted but sharp-tipped, lightly down Arthur’s sternum, tracing a shivering path through the sparse hair towards his belly. "All that hard work… dominating me." The claw dipped lower, feather-light over Arthur’s hip bone.
Arthur flinched, a weak protest dying in his throat. "Fritz… don’t." His voice was a rasp, stripped of its earlier command. Exhaustion pinned him, a leaden blanket. Fritz ignored him. His claw teased lower, tracing the crease where thigh met groin, skirting the utterly spent cock. "Shhh," Fritz soothed, his other hand landing firmly on Arthur’s chest, pinning him flat. "Just lie still." The command was soft, absolute. That hand, strong and furred, remained heavy on Arthur’s sternum as Fritz slid lower down the bed. Arthur’s breath hitched, a confusing mix of residual ache and unwanted, treacherous flickers of sensation sparking along nerves he thought dead.
Fritz positioned himself between Arthur’s legs, pushing them apart with insistent pressure. He leaned down, his wet, rough tongue rasping a sudden, shockingly hot path up the length of Arthur’s flaccid cock. Arthur gasped, hips jerking weakly. "Fuck! Cold!" But the feline tongue lapped again, deliberate, swirling, igniting tiny, insistent sparks of feeling against all reason. Fritz engulfed the soft head, sucking gently, applying wet heat and rhythmic pressure. Arthur moaned, a sound of pure helplessness, his body betraying him. Against his will, beneath the demanding suction and the rasp of that incredible tongue, he felt a faint, impossible stirring. "No… stop… can’t…" he pleaded, his hands fluttering uselessly towards Fritz’s head.
Fritz released him with a wet pop. He looked up, eyes gleaming like emerald fire in the gloom. His muzzle was inches from Arthur’s cock, breath hot on the sensitized skin. "Can’t?" Fritz purred, the vibration resonating through Arthur’s groin. He leaned in again, his tongue now licking broad, wet stripes over Arthur’s heavy balls, drawing a choked whimper from the man. "Seems like you can." Arthur felt it, the undeniable thickening, the slow, agonizing resurgence of blood flow, his cock twitching to life under Fritz’s relentless, expert ministrations. It was a violation of his exhaustion, a forced arousal he was powerless to stop. Fritz chuckled, a low rumble. "There he is." He took Arthur back into his mouth, deeper this time, swallowing the burgeoning hardness with obscene ease, his throat muscles working.
Arthur arched off the bed, a cry torn from him, overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations: the deep ache in his muscles, the searing heat of Fritz’s mouth, the utter loss of control. Fritz sucked him with deep, rhythmic pulls, hollowing his cheeks, tongue swirling over the sensitive underside. He pulled off just as Arthur felt the first dangerous tightening deep in his groin. "Not yet," Fritz murmured, breathing hard himself. He surged up Arthur’s body in one fluid motion, straddling his hips. His own thick cock, fully erect and slick with pre-cum, pressed hot and urgent against Arthur’s stomach. Fritz leaned down, bracing his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, claws pricking skin. "My turn," he growled, his voice thick with intent. His green eyes held Arthur’s, allowing no escape. "I ride you. Hard. You take it. Understand?"
Arthur could only stare, chest heaving, his renewed erection trapped between their bodies, throbbing painfully. Resistance was impossible, washed away by the tidal wave of sensation and Fritz’s dominating presence. He managed a jerky nod. Fritz’s smirk was triumphant, feral. He spat into his palm, reached behind himself, and slicked Arthur’s cock roughly. The friction made Arthur hiss. Without ceremony, Fritz rose onto his knees, positioned himself, and slammed down, sheathing Arthur to the root in one brutal, unforgiving stroke. Arthur shouted, the sudden, deep penetration a shock, the tight, hot clench around his cock stealing his breath. "Oh fuck!" he gasped, eyes rolling back.
Fritz didn’t pause. He planted his paws firmly on Arthur’s chest, claws digging in, anchoring himself. Then he began to move. Up, dragging Arthur’s cock almost entirely out, the cold air a shock on the wet head. Then down, impaling himself hard and fast, his powerful thighs pistoning, driving Arthur impossibly deep into his own tight channel. Arthur groaned, a helpless, guttural sound, overwhelmed by the sheer force of Fritz taking his pleasure. The feline rode him with fierce, demanding strokes, his hips snapping down again and again, the slap of flesh on flesh loud in the quiet room. Fritz’s head was thrown back, fangs bared, a low, continuous growl vibrating in his chest. "Feel it!" he snarled, driving down, the muscles in his ass clenching rhythmically around Arthur’s shaft. "Fucking feel me use you!"
Arthur was pinned, utterly owned. Fritz controlled the depth, the speed, the angle. Each downward plunge hit Arthur’s prostate with devastating accuracy, forcing ragged cries from his throat, sensations building far too fast, too intensely after the day’s overuse. He scrabbled weakly at Fritz’s furred flanks, not to push away, but to hold on, anchors in the storm. Fritz leaned forward, his muzzle close to Arthur’s ear. "That’s it," he panted, his breath hot. "Take my cock. Take it deep." He punctuated the words with a series of short, brutal slams, jolting Arthur up the bed. Arthur’s vision blurred, the pressure coiling unbearably tight. "Fritz… I… can’t… hold…!" he choked out, his body tensing, nearing the edge against his will.
Fritz slammed down one final time, grinding his ass hard against Arthur’s pelvis, holding him buried to the hilt. He locked eyes with Arthur, his gaze commanding. "Cum," Fritz ordered, his voice a guttural rasp. "Cum inside me now." The command, the clenching pressure, the sheer dominance in Fritz’s eyes – it shattered Arthur’s last vestige of control. He arched violently, a raw, broken shout tearing from his lungs as his orgasm ripped through him. Hot jets of cum pulsed deep into Fritz’s ass, weaker than before but still claiming. Arthur convulsed beneath him, gasping, tears stinging his eyes from the overwhelming, forced intensity.
Fritz held him there, impaled, riding out the tremors, his own cock throbbing against Arthur’s abdomen. Then, with a satisfied grunt, he lifted himself off, Arthur’s softening cock slipping free with a wet sound. Fritz knelt back on Arthur’s thighs, breathing hard, his fur slick with sweat. He looked down at Arthur, sprawled, utterly wrecked beneath him. Fritz grinned, a flash of sharp white teeth in the gloom. He swiped a claw through the mess leaking onto Arthur’s stomach, then deliberately licked it clean, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s stunned face. "Good," Fritz purred, the sound thick and possessive. He shifted, settling his weight fully onto Arthur’s hips, claiming his territory. Arthur stared up at the shadowed ceiling, feeling Fritz’s heat, his weight, the thrumming purr starting again deep in the feline’s chest. The power shift was absolute, terrifying, and exhilarating. Fritz rested a paw possessively on Arthur’s heaving chest. "Sleep," he commanded softly. Arthur closed his eyes. This time, it wasn't exhaustion, but surrender. The purr vibrated through him, a constant, claiming rhythm. He drifted, the lines blurring completely.