Should'a Had a Plan B (Slark x Riki) Chapter 2

The Dire eventually won the battle in the end, but Slark hadn’t seen the purple smoke again for the rest of the skirmish.  He felt immensely awkward standing in front of the looking glass dressed (quite literally) to the gills in a slightly small green suit.  The clothes he had lifted off a traveling merchant a month ago, a foolish Keen Folk who was altogether eager to hand over the clothes in exchange for not getting a new stomach piercing.  In truth, Slark had spent the night unable to make up his mind if he should show.  In the end he finally relented, reasoning that if the voice knew where he lived, there was nothing to stop his throat from being slit in the night.  Of course, this date would put him close to the voice’s owner, making revenge all the easier, if necessary.

With a deep breath, Slark turned from the looking glass and left his hut, his stomach still flip-flopping over exactly how the night might go.  The last time he recalled feeling this stressed was prior to his breakout of Dark Reef, and he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was so stressed now; was it how helpless he felt in that copse?  Or was it that word - date. That word seemed to rekindle something he thought had burned out long ago.  He walked a little faster, ducking under a tree here vaulting a log there, all while the sun dipped lower and lower.  He finally picked his way out of Shadeshore and onto the main road just as the sun settled on a ridge, fittingly highlighting Hobb’s End Tavern in the glare.

Slark was a regular at the tavern, known to drink, well, like a fish-folk, and generally kept to himself.  As he sidled into the mostly empty common room, the bartender gave him a curt nod and shifted his eyes to a darkened corner.  The nightcrawler’s breath stopped in his throat as caught sight of the previous day’s captor.  Propped in his chair with his feet up on the table sat Rikimaru the Stealth Assassin.  The blue satyr’s lips curled into a hard grin as Slark’s eyes met his.  He was wearing dressed rather smartly, a long-sleeve white shirt and black waistcoat, complimented by a pair of short black breeches.  The sea-breed glared right back at Riki, unsheathing his blade and hanging it next to the door.  Slark picked his way over to the corner, grabbing a jug of half-drunk wine off a passing table.  He pulled himself into a stool opposite Riki.

“I shoulda known it was yew.  Ain’t anyone else whose can stay hidden the way yew can.  Why do yeh work with the Radiant anyways?” He said with a grimace, raising the jug to his mouth and drinking it deeply.

“I may have taken contract with the Radiant, but you were my target all along.  Your escape from made quite the waves topside, if you’ll forgive the pun.  Oh yes, your former gaolers have put quite a bounty on that pretty little head of yours.‘  Riki added calmly with another wry grin.

"So yer here to bag the nightcrawler innit?  Throw me back in that watery hell?” Slark growled out, slamming a clawed hand down on the table.

“Relax, enjoy your drink.  If I were after gold, I would’ve taken your head back in the forest.  No, I’m more interested in you.”

“There yew go again with that word, interesting. So what do yew want wiv me?” Slark barked out, setting back down and obviously still wary.

“To put it bluntly, I find you quite attractive, and I want to pursue you, as a romantic interest not as an assassination, or course.” Riki stated rather bluntly, sitting up and leaning on the table.  His face was completely tense, except for that same grin.  To say the fish-folk was surprised was an understatement; he coughed rather hard on his wine, slopping it down his stolen suit.

“Now I know I didn’t hear yew right that time.” If he could blush, his face would be bright red.

“You heard me perfectly well.  And I have no intention of letting you slip away from me, either.  No true assassin would let that happen anyhow.” The satyr sipped his drink and kept that same facade of deep interest, pursing his lips lightly.  Slark was dumb-founded.  No one, sea breed or otherwise had ever said such a thing before.  He had resolved long ago to a solitary lifestyle merely as a means of staying alive, but that threat was a ways away; Dark Reef was long behind him.

“Just so I got this roight. Yew wanna date me? Gotta tell yew, that’s a new one.  Let’s say I go along wit this.  I don’t know anythin’ about yew, other than that fancy vanishin’ o’ yers.” Slark leaned back, attempting to recover a bit of dignity with a long drink of wine, even though he didn’t feel all that thirsty.  His heart was beating a little irregularly, and one of his footpaws was tapping against the wooden floor impatiently.

“What’s there to know? I’m an assassin, although you already know that.  More important that my past though is what I’m offering you. You could call it love or affection or lust, however the hell you want to brand it.  I’m offering you companionship, as I know how lonely it gets out there, and I know what it’s like to sleep without another warming your bed.  I’d just rather spend my time with someone who shares my interests, and is handsome to boot.” Riki extended both his paws over the table with his palms facing up, laying back against his chair.  “Is that enough for you?”

Slark chewed his lip thoughtfully.  It wasn’t every day an opportunity for a new life fell into your lap.

“Let’s say I accept yer offer.  There’s a war goin’ on out there.”

“My contract with the Radiant is on specific assassination targets.  Unlike your liability to the Dire, I am a free acting agent.  Why not kick off our new arrangement, right here and now, eh?  Get to know each other a bit better, hmm?” A long purple tail had snaked its way along Slark’s clothed thigh, pulsing over the taut muscle.  The nightcrawler sat up straighter for a second in surprise, before leaning forward a bit, grinning with his big toothy maw.

“I’d say that’d be fine.” Riki drank deeply from his mug again, setting it down carefully, intently watching the sea-breed under his care.  Slark swallowed hard, still attempting to keep his grin straight even as the tail sneaked up a leg of his trousers.  He drank more of his wine, sputtering even more of it down his front as the tail pressed against his genital slit.  “You’re mine now.” The satyr said matter-of-factly, pressing the tip of his tail hard inside Slark.  The sea-breed let out a sigh of pleasure, although there wasn’t much room inside him for the invading appendage, and that space was quickly filling up with Slark’s rapidly hardening length.  Riki was clearly enjoying himself, crawling halfway onto the table now, resting on his elbows and with his feet on the stool.  Slark writhed under the satyr’s care, and ground right against that eager appendage, his slimy pre slicking the furred nub.

“I know yer type, Riki. C-Common sneak thief.” He gasped out, leaning forward in his own chair.  His face was only a couple inches away from Riki’s and saliva dripped from the side of his mouth lewdly.  The satyr cocked his head to the side, raising his eyebrow and openly groping Slark’s full length in the rings of his tail now.  The nightcrawler responded in kind, pressing his thin lips right up against the other male’s, his thick slimy tongue invading Riki’s maw.  The satyr moaned loudly onto that tongue, letting it explore every nook and cranny.

Deft blue fingers quickly unbuckled Slark’s pants and drew that tapered length, fish-folk seed dribbling on the floor.  Wine-addled lust had apparently blinded the two males to the public space they were in, the air quickly filling with sloppy noises and guttural moans.  With his target’s cock freed, the satyr quickly set to work on his own pants, dropping them around his ankles and revealing a long, blue-furred sheath anointed by a fat cock tip of an even darker blue.  He drew Slark backwards with his mouth so that they were both up on the tab le, before diving his own tongue inside the fish’s mouth. Riki straightened his back up a little aligning to the height of the sea-breed and pulling the tail around his midsection.  He followed by pressing his furred length up against Slark’s, several drops of pre dribbling over the top of his partner’s pointed length; he was bigger but not by much.  The nightcrawler ground his dick against his partner’s, pulsing pre into that sheath fur; fish were naturally over-productive of course.

Slark pulled out of that tangle of mouths, giving that same crooked grin.  He gathered some of his slippery pre with a few fingers, letting the slimy fluid collect on his fingers before forcing his digits into Riki’s mouth.  “Fish food.” Slark said simply, feeding the other male his taste.  The satyr licked the fingers clean, watching the fish-folk.

“Give me a seeing to.” He stated rather plainly, rotating himself on the table.  He bent over on all fours on the table, spreading his cheeks a little.  His dark blue pucker exposed itself to the open air, tail flicking impatiently.  “Why prolong the inevitable?” He teased.

Slark took the hint, sliding forward and up behind Riki, planting his clawed paws on the blue hips in front of him.  “On your belly and crawl.” He teased, lining his length up with the satyr’s inviting entrance.  The fish-folk pressed his leaking tip inside Riki without so much as a warning, eliciting a loud gasp.  Slark laid across Riki’s back, wrapping his arms around the satyr’s midsection, slowly penetrating that tight ring.  The sloppy amount of pre the sea-breed gave off made the going easy, and soon Slark had bottomed out inside, moaning deeply into Riki’s ear.  He sat for a moment, then drew his length out slowly, leaving a rather empty feeling inside the satyr.  “Fuck me already, cut to the quick!” He barked at the fish-folk, wrapping his hand around his own dick, tugging his sticky sheath down.  Slark gripped one of Riki’s horns with a hand, pressing back inside the snug blue pucker.

The fish-folk started rutting his partner at a quick pace, giving small stuttery thrusts, stopping to catch his breath every minute or so.  Riki meanwhile stroked his dick in time with the thrusts, his face a mixture or abject pleasure and triumph.  Slark pressed the satyr’s head lower, grinding the side of his face into the table - if the nightcrawler knew he didn’t seem to care, lost in his own world of rut.  “Can’t hold out much longer now!” He gasped out, the wet slapping of thigh on slick furred ass becoming his whole world.

Riki just nodded as best he could, his teeth gritted from his face pressed into the table.  His hands flew up and down his sheath, letting out a small whimper as he spent his seed on the table underneath him.  Slark didn’t seem to care; his own orgasm hit him like a train, pumping thick strings of hot semen deep inside his lover.

“Could get used ta that.” He sputtered out, draping over the satyr’s back. He kept his rapidly shrinking cock still lodged firmly inside Riki, just holding it there.

“Exactly what I expected.” Riki replied. “Would you mind letting go of my horns now? I will say that it was pleasing before, but now it hurts quite a bit.”