It Ended With a Bang
Badmiral Biscuit
Loona flipped the grimoire open and shuffled through the pages. Their target—her target—was not in a place she was familiar with, although their caller had insisted she could get there, and mentioned that Blitzø was a semi-frequent visitor.
She finally found the page she was searching for, and read off the unfamiliar spell: “Barba philosophum nón facit. Pecúnia nón olet. In vetitum nítimur. Némó sóbrius saltat. Fortís Fortúna adjuvat. Síc véró Lupus in fábula.”
The portal opened, reluctantly. Loona stuffed the book in her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and then looked through the pulsing purple-blue circle, getting her first view of the world on the other side. It was a dark place, with only flickering torches providing illumination, just enough to see dozens and dozens of cages filled with the damned. The reek of desperation made her wrinkle her muzzle . . . still, it was nicer than LA.
She sniffed at the air, teasing out the smell of her target, or trying to. He wasn’t there. Figures. If he was here, he wouldn’t be a target.
Loona pulled out her hellphone and opened up Bing Maps. If she couldn’t find her quarry with her nose, she had other means.
Sadly, Bing couldn’t give her any routing information, although it did put a flag where her quarry supposedly was. That was a starting point.
•••
The torchlight inside the cave was enough for her to see the way out. Hopefully out; the path was climbing upwards, and in every other oubliette she’d ever visited up was out.
A few faces watched her as she went by; she ignored them. None were human, so there was no need for her human disguise. She might reconsider once she got to the mouth of the cave, depending on what was outside.
But first, she had to get past the guard. Three pairs of eyes were intently looking down at her, glinting in the darkness. As she got closer, she could make out the guard’s silhouette. He towered over her, only leaning down as she neared.
She wrinkled her muzzle as he spoke—he very much needed a breath mint. «What are you doing here?»
«Business.»
He sniffed at her, each head in turn, then the three rose in unison. «Proceed.» Cerberus stepped aside to allow her access to the path.
Being a hellhound had its perks.
•••
When she was out, she turned back long enough to fix the gate in her mind, the sight of it and the smell of the place. An unnecessarily tall door in a stone archway in a rock face, old enough that ivy had grown halfway up the door frame, and cursed enough that the ivy was dead. Giant maroon symbols, sigils, and warding circles, as well as a diamond-shaped seal to prevent the damned from leaving, or to indicate if they had.
Sometimes the portal appeared near where they needed to be and other times it didn’t, and while she could use the book she didn’t fully understand how it did what it did. It got them where they needed to go, or close enough, and that was what mattered.
•••
For a time, the path was rocky and foreboding, then it descended into a pleasant forest with a clear trail through it. Not a well-traveled one; while Tartarus might be filled with the damned, most of them didn’t get there on foot.
A quick consult of her hellphone, and she headed off into the wilderness. She had miles to go before she reached her destination. At least the grass underfoot was better on her paws than concrete.
•••
After an hour of walking, she found herself on the outskirts of a small, primitive town. Loona took a selfie with the town in the background and then stepped back into the woods long enough to upload it to her Sinstagram account, then reopened Bing Maps. Her hellphone got reception everywhere.
Still no roads shown—which was fair; she hadn’t seen any proper roads yet. Just grass and dirt paths.
Her target was away from the village, so she stuck her phone back in her pocket and started walking again.
•••
As she got closer to his home, she could start to smell him. The paper with his name on it gave her some sense of him, but it was nothing compared to the olfactory bouquet of his actual scent. Before too long, she could see his comings and goings, the freshness of his trace.
Millie had asked her about that once, but she couldn’t describe it. It was either a sense you had, or it wasn’t. Any more than Millie could describe what trichromatic vision looked like. Loona knew that there was another yellow called red and another blue called green, and they were apparently very different colors to Millie. They looked about the same to her.
Scent was kind of like paint, bright and glistening when it was fresh, dulling and fading as it got older and older. She could clearly ‘see’ streaks of her target on the ground, on trees; places where there were lots of ‘coats’ of paint, where he went a lot, and other places where it was thin.
Of course, it was always intermingled with all the other scents. He wasn’t the only one to use this path, and there were trees and plants and birds and other animals all in the forest, all leaving their own scents. Even she left one behind, although she normally tuned it out.
•••
He lived on the outskirts of another small town—too far away for her to see, close enough to smell the mingle of town-scents. His house was a simple affair: mud and daub walls, thatched roof, a small yard that was as much weeds and dirt as actual grass. A time-worn split rail fence marked the boundaries of his territory.
Subtlety wasn’t one of Loona’s strong suits ,so rather than fade back on the trail to wait and watch, she climbed over the fence, walked across the yard, and peered through the nearest window.
It opened onto a bedroom. Messy, unmade bed, a selection of ties hung up on wooden pegs. The door was open, and she could see him deeper in the house. The kitchen, maybe?
His back was to her, so she kept her muzzle up to the glass. He was broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, not unlike Vortex in general build. The horns, however, were a major difference.
Loona ducked down just as he started to turn in her direction. She didn’t think he’d seen her, but she’d seen plenty—he was very naked and very well-hung.
Had he just gotten out of the shower? Or bed? Was there someone else in the house?
Normally, she wouldn’t care, but this contract had been very specific—NO collateral. One target and only one, and after she was done she’d have to walk all the way back to Tartarus . . . or run, if someone raised the alarm, if there was someone else in the house.
“Shit.” Was anybody else home? Did he know he was a target? Would he be ready or not? Could she get inside his house? What would it feel like to have his cock inside her? Since this wasn’t Earth, did he have any powers that might interfere with her mission?
She was going to find out the answers to some of those questions.
•••
Loona knocked on the front door. She had just enough time to start thinking that this was an exceptionally dumb plan before the door was yanked open. “Iron Will was not expecting visitors.”
Her question should have been ‘are you alone?’ That, at least, was what she’d planned out in her head, and what happened next would depend on how he replied. Instead, her eyes had locked on his cock. He hadn’t put on pants before answering the door.
“Speak up. Are you here for a lesson in assertiveness?”
“No, I—” From the shoulders down, build-wise, he looked a lot like Vortex. She’d thought about Vortex more than was healthy. She shook her head and snapped back to reality. “I’m here to fuck you—”
“You?” Iron Will started laughing. “Is this a joke? You’re some raggedy Diamond Dog bitch.”
“Raggedy bitch?” Loona growled and leaned in close. “Listen here, motherfucker. I’m a hellhound.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Iron Will held up his hand. “I wouldn’t stick my dick in you.”
“Really? Your dick begs to differ.”
Iron Will looked down. His little minotaur was, in fact, rising to attention. “You want it, you earn it.” He shifted his legs and flexed. “Iron Will doesn’t fuck below his class.”
Fast as an adder striking, his arm lashed out and shoved her. Loona staggered back, her hand darting to the backpack—the pistol was there—and then she checked herself. He was big, he was arrogant, and she was absolutely certain he’d never met anyone like her before, so she squared up and eyed him down.”You think you’re hot shit, prove it.”
He snorted and lunged, and for a heartbeat it was going to be that easy. She shifted to grab him and flip him, but he knew that trick too and twisted out of her grip, and then the two were facing each other with the first appreciation of how this was going to go.
Loona shrugged off the backpack, letting it fall to the ground, and the pair came together again. This time he used his weight to his advantage, hitting her before she was fully braced, pushing her against the wall of his house, grinding her back into the rough daub.
The wall was something to push off of, which Iron Will hadn’t accounted for. He’d underestimated her strength and she shoved into the wall and sent him teetering, forcing him to release her in order to regain his balance before he fell on his back.
She pressed the advantage, slamming her head into his stomach, ramming the breath out of the minotaur even as he staggered on his feet.
He recovered fast; he kneed her in the groin and followed through with a punch to the solar plexus. Loona stumbled back, also winded.
“No teeth,” Iron Will said as she bared her fangs and growled.
“No horns,” she replied. Those could end her if he got a good gore, and if he was making rules for the fight. . . .
“Winner takes—” He cheated; he didn’t wait to finish his sentence before grabbing at her, at the waistband of her pants, getting his hand in before she was ready. Not all the way in; he was still outside her panties
She was willing to let him reach between her legs and cop a feel, but that wasn’t his intent. Instead, he yanked her shorts down, tangling them around her knees and effectively hobbling her. Loona couldn’t dodge as he grabbed at her mane, getting a handful of hair and pulling her in too close to effectively punch.
Instead of resisting, she twisted around, working her shorts down until they fell down her legs, giving her back freedom of movement. She stepped out and kicked them out of the way, then ground up against his cock, reaching down with her left hand to tease his balls, giving him a moment of pleasure before she unleashed a flurry of short punches to his ribs.
He didn’t let go of her hair, but he relaxed his arm and gave her some slack. Their eyes met as he reached down and touched the front of her panties, thrilling her with his gentle touch.
Loona didn’t notice immediately that he’d released her mane, not until she felt his other hand on her shirt, tracing the leather straps of her body harness. She pulled back and dropped his dick, and the two of them regarded each other again, preparing for a second scrum.
“You ready to submit?”
She spit on the churned-up ground, and the battle for dominance was on again. This time Loona knew she’d rattled him; he might have been offering unfavorable terms of surrender, but the fact that he was negotiating at all meant he was worried he’d lose.
This time, Iron Will changed tactics. A standing skirmish wasn’t working; ground game might. He charged her, taking and shrugging off body blows until he had her in a bear hug, then he swept her legs out from under her, releasing his grip long enough for her to start falling before he grabbed her tight again. He hadn’t actually planned for a next move but he had a second or two to think as she tried to get her balance back.
Loona growled and stretched her hand between them, grasping for his manhood, attempting to guide it between her legs. Had she earned it yet?
Iron Will decided she had. He’d sparred with minotauresses for longer, but none of them had been as good at fighting as Loona. Normally he had to hold back, bruising and a little blood was okay in a play-fight, but it shouldn’t go further than that.
She understood the rules.
He relaxed his grip, ready to catch her again if she fell. She didn’t need that security net; she was back on her feet with a sultry look, her hand still on his dick, still pressing it between her legs, tight enough that he could feel the dampness and heat radiating from her.
She’d proven herself worthy, and now she’d lie on her back and receive the reward she’d earned because that was how it always went; Iron Will was brash and assertive and dominated women every time.
Loona hadn’t gotten the memo. Quick as a flash, she grabbed his nose ring and before he could react, started kneeling, pulling him down with her. He had no real choice in the matter, and he was too shocked by the circumstance to make any attempt to resist.
When she was on her knees, she leaned back, pulling him down further as she reclined on the torn-up lawn, pulling him on top of her. He braced his arms and let her lead from the bottom, dragged his dick between her legs and up her stomach almost to her belly button.
She started working her panties down her leg, a process that took too long for both of them: Iron Will grabbed the elastic and yanked, tearing them apart and leaving angry red welts on her legs.
Loona finally let go of his nose ring as he arched his back to line himself up, finally submitting to his will—or so he thought. She wrapped her legs around his waist to keep his hips under control as she squeezed and rolled, and he still hadn’t figured out what was happening as she finished turning him on his back, his throbbing cock pinned between them, pre-cum dribbling on her chest and his.
Loona pressed her forearm against his throat and leaned her weight onto it as she slid forward, his cock grinding hard and hot between her legs.
She lined him up, reaching under her tail to get his pole into position, and he stayed still until she had, until his head was pressed between her lips. She exhaled and relaxed—
Which was all the opportunity that Iron Will needed to take the upper hand again. He thrust up with her hips, spearing her on his dick as he rolled her onto her back.
“Iron Will likes it rough,” he bellowed.
Loona’s pleasured moan turned into a growl as she wrapped her arms around his back and started digging her claws into his flesh. Not enough to draw blood, not yet—they’d hardly begun the second round of fighting.
He pounded her into the ground, one hand sliding over her crop top, groping at her breasts, squeezing tightly as her claws scratched at his back.
Iron Will reached up for her neck, forgetting in his enthusiasm the spiked collar she wore. He jerked his hand back, putting himself off-balance for just a moment, long enough for her to roll out from underneath and kip-up.
“That the best you have, motherfucker?”
He got to his hooves more slowly and gave her a wary look. She was tougher than he’d imagined, and he wasn’t going to underestimate her again. Claws on her fore- and hind paws; spiked collar, predator teeth.
She was panting. Lust or exhaustion? Could be either. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so hard, the last time he’d wanted a conquest this badly.
The two of them circled around the disturbed dirt, churned and wet with sweat. He snorted and pawed at the ground, she replied with a guttural growl and the two of them lunged but did not cross the gulf between them, not until she fluffed up her coat and bared her fangs, not until he lowered his horns and clenched his fists, and then the two of them came together.
He wrapped her in a bear hug again, painfully jamming his dick against her stomach as he pinned her arms; Loona responded by planting her legs and pushing him back and off balance.
Iron Will could have let go, could have stumbled back and regained his balance, but he didn’t. He lifted her as he fell, sliding her up his chest, tucking her head into his shoulder so they didn’t break teeth when his head hit the ground.
Loona took some of the landing square on her jawbone as it slammed into his shoulder, giving the minotaur a brief window of opportunity. She was on top but he was in charge as he kept her pulled tight with his left arm, while grabbing the base of her tail with his right hand.
Not painful by itself, but a tight enough grip that she was going to lose fur or worse if she tried to pull free.
Loona tried anyway, and then changed tactics, shoving herself up despite his grip, getting one hand then the other around his horns, pinning his head as she wiggled her hips.
His dick bounced off inviting flesh, the root of her tail, his hand, and then once again found its way inside.
He had some control with her tail, she had some control with her hips and now the battle was for rhythm and depth, each of them testing the limit of their control as he thrust and she chose to recieve—or not.
Fast as lightning, he relaxed his left arm and then snatched her collar, the studs digging into his palm as he gained control of her head.
A brief advantage, until she leaned in close to remove his leverage, her breath hot on his face. She took the moment of distraction to plant herself on his dick all the way to the root, not easing herself off as he pulled at her tail. Her kegels squeezed against his length, and then she slowly, teasingly slid herself up, even as her sharp teeth filled his vision.
He felt his dick slam against her depth again, bringing a burst of pleasure/pain, and he could see the same emotion reflected on her face.
If I were in control—but neither of them were. Both took the advantages they had and used them for their pleasure, while giving the least amount possible to their partner. The duo rolled in the dirt when they could, Iron Will taking advantage of his weight and Loona using her flexibility—he was strong but unfocused, she was lithe and fast.
He could feel as her breathing changed, and she felt as his rhythm changed, both of them nearing orgasm and neither willing to give the other that triumph.
Loona had too much control and he was too close to change that; his body cried for release even as his psyche demanded victory. He pulled down on her back, not caring that it drove his head further in the ground. The ground was hard and wouldn’t move much. At the same time, he shifted his grip on her tail, freeing a finger to press up against her butthole, tense forbidden flesh. As she lifted off his cock, he pushed against her pucker.
She sucked in a breath and tried to pull away, not because of his touch but because she knew he was close and didn’t want him knotting inside her—she had no idea that he couldn’t do that, that bovines were built differently than canines.
She couldn’t move her hands or she’d lose his head but he forgot to account for teeth as she bit down on his shoulder, not quite hard enough to pierce flesh but more than enough to activate a new flood of adrenaline. He forced his finger into her backdoor, late enough in the game to feel his own cumshot from inside, late enough that they both knew she’d vanquished him as she, too, lost herself in the throes of an orgasm.
They rolled apart and laid on their backs, both panting in the afterglow. A brief respite in the battle, a truce which could continue for as long as both agreed . . . and both knew that the other would seize any advantage that could be gained.
•••
For once, Iron Will was being a good lover—or so she thought. His right hand fondled her breasts as she cooled down from their fight and intercourse, giving her a continuous plateau of pleasure as she got her breath back.
In truth, he was waiting for her to recover. He’d underestimated her before, and he wasn’t going to make that mistake again. He couldn’t read her as easily as a minotauress, and she was scrappier and tougher than he’d imagined when he first laid sight on her—under her fluffy fur was pure muscle driven by both anger and lust.
Exactly his kind of girl.
•••
He waited until she sat up, and then wrapped his fist tightly around her crop-top, reaching between her bare breasts, his knuckles pressing against her body harness. Something he’d considered using to his advantage before, but then he’d come up with a better plan.
She obliged him and lifted her arms, expecting him to pull it off. Which he did, to a point, stopping just when he got to her wrists, twisting the fabric to make a temporary pair of handcuffs—and a convenient handle.
Iron Will got his feet under himself and stood, pulling her up, then he grabbed onto her waist with his left hand and folded her over, keeping her upper body supported by his hold on her shirt.
He pressed into her, teasing her with his dick, pushing between her legs and pressing his head against her belly, enough to let her feel where he’d be when he was inside, and then he pulled back, his grip on his makeshift handcuffs firm in case she tried to pull away.
She didn’t; she lifted her tail and revealed herself to him, pushing back into his groin, and that wouldn’t do. Iron Will would mount her when he was ready. He slid his dick across her arousal- and cum-slicked lips, teasing her with the full length of his member, then he pulled away, eliciting a whimper of desire from the hellhound.
The second time, he moved even slower, letting her feel every inch of his shaft against her, pressing his head between her lips as he lined up.
He was in charge as he held his shaft, pressing his head against her loins, taunting her as he pushed in and eased back, not yet committing even as she shifted her weight and tried to force him to enter her. Iron Will kept a hand on the small of her back, control for now.
He kept a loose grip and reached out with a finger, giving her two points of pleasure pressure to focus on, sliding his dick against arousal-slicked flesh and deliberately missing the hole every time until he didn’t. He was ready and maybe she was or maybe she wasn’t as he slammed himself home. His right hand was no longer needed for guidance, so he ran it against the grain of her fur, all the way to the nape of her neck before reaching around to grab a boob, to work his way to her nipple, teasing and then pinching as he thrust with every intention of pushing her through the wall of his house.
Loona bent to his ministrations, her breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps until he finally orgasmed, pulling out in time to let the last few ropes of cum spray across her back, painting her fur and mane, her tail and her shirt—and he got some friendly fire on his own hand, too.
She felt Iron Will’s grip on her crop-top relax and wiggled out of it, leaving him holding only fabric. He was recovering; she wasn’t. She turned and dropped her stance, punched him in the gut to fold him over, and grabbed on to his horns, pulling him further down.
Loona might have weighed half as much as the minotaur, but he was already in motion and she just needed to direct it, slamming him into the ground, riding him down, already straddling his torso as he fell.
He braced himself and rolled as he landed. She was ready for that; she went with him, keeping herself on top, grabbing at his horns, twisting with him and sliding her crotch up, planting her knees firmly in his armpits. She knew he didn’t have a very good leg game; she’d thought that from the beginning and their previous fighting had proven it.
She smacked his flaccid dick with her tail, just to keep him from getting too many ideas, then shifted her weight up until she was kneeling on his shoulders and then his horns; she planted her ass on his face, grinding her clit against her nose ring, sliding her cunt across his lips.
He didn’t get the hint. “Eat it, bitch.” She squeezed her thighs against his head, tightening the pressure until he realized he needed to follow her instructions, until she started to feel his tongue exploring her nethers.
He could have broken free, but didn’t; he let her have this round of their fight. In his mind, cunnilingus barely counted since it was something he was doing for her, something he didn’t have to—notwithstanding the fact that she had his horns pinned and his head in a vice.
Iron Will thought he could get her horny enough she’d slide down his belly and mount his dick again and the sooner he got her to yield the sooner his victory would be assured. No woman had ever stood up to three rounds with Iron Will.
Loona didn’t know that tidbit of personal history, nor would she have cared if she did. He’d never met anybody like her before. When she was sure he was committed to tipping the velvet, she repositioned herself—while having her shins directly on his horns was effective, it wasn’t comfortable, so she moved to pin them between her thighs and calves, first one leg then the other.
His indulgence only lasted as long as his refractory period; as his dick rose so did his desire to have it deep inside the hellhound. Loona.might have the upper ground; she might have his head pinned, and it was true that he didn’t have a great leg game—he’d skipped leg day a time or two.
But he was still strong and athletic, and bided his time. He grabbed her hips and moved her on his face, and she didn’t object but she did shift her weight and that was all the opportunity he needed.
Iron Will tucked in his legs and planted his hands, pushing himself up while she still rode his face. Before she could even react, he stood.
He expected that she’d lose her grip and fall off, and then he’d pin her and have his way with her again. Or that she’d slide off and he’d catch her and then he’d pin her and have his way with her. He’d never encountered anyone like her before; she kept her legs wrapped around his horns and back-flopped against his chest and groin. She reached back and grabbed his ass, her claws digging into the muscle, drawing blood, and locked her ankles together under his throat, squeezing against his neck. “I said eat it,” she growled.
His dick pressed against her cheek, twitching with desire as she spoke. Too late he remembered her teeth, sharp and predatory and only inches from his member.
With no other ideas, with his vision already graying out, he bent his head and put his tongue to work again, realization slowly dawning that she wasn’t going to relent until she came or until he passed out.
My kind of girl.
She arched her back to make it easier for him, and he grabbed the front of her harness, between her breasts, taking some weight off his horns and giving him a modicum of control.
Loona—after deciding he was sufficiently submissive—turned her head and ran her tongue up the length of his cock. On the surface, it mostly tasted like her, but she could tease out his musk as well.
She had no intention of giving him a blowjob, but he didn’t know that, and a reward he might get for good work was enough motivation for him to concentrate on all the right places.
Both of them were surprised to discover that his tongue could reach her g-spot if she flexed her hips just right. Teamwork made the dream work.
He pressed onward and she wrapped a hand around his cock and started jerking him off, occasionally giving him licks, both for inspiration and for extra lubrication.
Her orgasm was almost earth-shattering in its intensity; whether that was because of the bloodrush to her head or his skilled tongue was open to debate. She tensed and arched her back as he pushed her to the edge and then over, inadvertently squeezing his neck tight again.
Iron Will’s pulse roared in his ears as she came, as she cut off the blood to his brain; as she finished him off his awareness of everything aside from the hand on his cock vanished, and as the world faded around him he had an orgasm so intense it could have been an epiphany.
A moment later, his legs turned to jelly and he collapsed, his dick spurting its seed into the churned-up ground. He had only vague awareness of the world around him as Loona disentangled herself from his horns, and he certainly couldn’t do anything.
She’d won, she’d defeated him . . . and he wanted another round, even if it meant he’d lose again. Her fur was damp with sweat, matted with dirt and mud and blood from their fighting and lovemaking—as was his. She looked stronger now, even more in control than when she’d first knocked on his door.
No minotauress had ever lasted three rounds with him—she had. What other secrets did she hide?
He had no idea what would happen next, but he looked forward to it. He propped himself up on his elbow as she reached into her backpack.
•••
Loona leaned up against the side of his house long enough to smoke a cigarette all the way down to the filter, then flicked it into the mud and ground it out under her heel. She retrieved her crop top and her shorts and put them on. There was no salvaging her panties, so she left them where they lay.
She cleaned herself up in his kitchen, using water from the tap and a tea towel he’d never use again. Her guess had been right; he’d been making lunch when she first saw him, and the sandwich was still sitting on a plate, only one bite out of it.
It was ham and bacon and two kinds of cheese on sourdough. She devoured it and then raided his icebox for a beer. She needed her strength—it was a long way back to Tartarus and to the portal.
