Desires by Sabrewing - Warning: Explicit male/male situations described herein, reader discretion advised.

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It didn't take me very long to get adjusted to this new school. After all, thankfully, my boyfriend was a sophomore, ranking above my measly freshman status, and he already knew the ins and outs of college life. I feel very lucky to have him now; he's as handsome a coyote as anyone could ask for, but also smart and funny. He can sing a ballad quick-as-you-please, is involved with the community, and still has time to call his mother and tell her he loves her. All in all, he is the true pick of the litter.

Not that I always thought so, mind you.

I remember vividly one point in my life when I was unsure that he was my true love, that he had everything I could ask for. I remember it so well because I took everything for granted back then ... and then I was shown the path I should take, with a little help from ... myself.

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"C'mon, Fluffernutter, you wanna be late on your first day??"

I ran towards Ashton with the speed of a hippo, what with the near ton of books on my back. Crap, you'd think college didn't offer physical fitness as a course option.

"For God's sakes, don't call me that in public. Do you know how humiliating it is?"

He laughed, his thick tail billowing out a bit. "I thought all foxes were called that. I'm just trying to help you fit in," he teased. I merely glared at him.

"Is that all you think of me as, a sex machine?"

He nodded, walking over to me and patting my tail. "Yep, and this is your lever, and the dispenser is riiiight he---" I stopped him before he could give me that cute little crotch-pat that I admittedly like. The last thing I needed to do was further the case of the fox stereotype in a public institution like college.

"Sh'yeah, uh-huh, and now let's come back down to Earth and learn something, shall we?"

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. You know where the Milking Lizard fast-food place is, right? We'll meet there at two for lunch and to help you get started."

"It's a plan, See ya." Thus scheduled we went our separate ways; he to his physics class and I to good ol' elementary English 101. Pfft, as if I didn't speak English already.

Classes were dull, as expected, and I fought to stay awake through even one, and I managed to somehow mentally take down our assignments for the day: a small paper about ourselves for English, and a speech on the occult for my speech course. Thankfully, swimming was right before our set lunch date, which meant I would be nice and active-looking for Ashton. Of course, this was before I had a chance to look in my gym bag at the surprise waiting for me ...

"Mister Phillips!"

I just sat there, holding the dark red Speedo in my paws, blushing a bit under my cheekfur. I knew my trickster of a coyote was behind this, but … why today, of all days? Why when I had a good impression to make? I looked up at my bear of an instructor in dismay.

"Look, I know it's against regulation, but---"

"The only butt I'm going to be seeing out there is yours, and do you know why?! Because YOU'RE the only one who's going to be wearing a thong! No get outside and don't let it happen again, unless you want a big fat 'F'!"

I nodded and set about removing my Raptors jersey and jeans, glaring at passers-by who chuckled and giggled and made all sorts of embarrassing remarks as they spied my swimming attire. When I was completely nude I picked the Speedo back up, holding it in my palm like the wretched thing that it was, then sat down and pulled it up past my black-furred feet, over my legs. The deep red coloring naturally clashed with my typical orangy-red vulpine coloring, but what made matters worse was the fact that the Speedo was, to my horror, as close to an extra-extra-small as they've ever made. One look in the mirror told me that.

My creamy white sheath stood out like a sore thumb, and I swear I got cut in half by the string going up my cleft. I didn't dare go outside looking like this. I could take the lewd student-shouted comments as being cat-calls, that was easy enough, it was my instructor that I dreaded. He'd have a field day with this. I could imagine it now ...

"Well, well, Mister Gerad Phillips. It looks like 'Boogie Nights 2' is in production and you managed to sign a contract with the director, right? In that case, why bother going to college? Go make porn movies! I'm sure there's a lot of sluts waiting for you to stick that twig you call a dick up into them! Hell, you needed that small-size just to look big!"

I shivered as I thought of that possible speech, not caring to think of the thousands of others that could be its replacement. However, I didn't have a choice, so I got up, stuffed my clothes in my locker, and made a few minor adjustments to at least make the fabric of the Speedo cover up my endowments. Looking like I had places to go, so to speak, I walked out of the locker room.

To my utter amazement, the big bruin swimming coach said nothing to me besides, "Took you long enough. Get in the water." I gladly did so, my predicament soon concealed by the waves of water created by my flailing arms and legs.

I greeted my coyote with what I hoped was a look of complete and utter rage. He didn't agree, and only broke out laughing as I walked up.

"Bet you looked like a primed stud, eh? Ha, ha, ha!"

I scowled, "Yeah, very funny, thanks for making me look like a whore there." I sat down in the booth he had taken as far away from him as I could.

He got up and sat down next to me, trapping me between him and the wall of the restaurant. "Oh, c'mon, lighten up, you've been so depressed lately that I thought you could use a good laugh."

"I wasn't the one laughing. Hell, I'm surprised I got through that in one piece. And if you want it, that nice Speedo is in the dumpster by the Arts & Music hall."

He shook his head and tried to hug me in apology, but I pulled away, still too miffed to accept. "Gerad, please, I honestly didn't think you'd feel this badly about it. There has to be some way I can make up for it."

I looked at him with amusement. "Oh, I can think of several ways for you to make up for it, like wearing fishnet stockings to that philosophy course you love so much, or how about a nice floral get-up with coconut halves for a bra and---" He shut me up by clamping my muzzle shut with his paw.

"Okay, okay, I get the hint. Fuck, you'd think I'd told someone to rape you."

"You may as well have; after all, foxes are only good to screw, right?"

I squirmed down under the table and got up, my backpack sliding out of the booth with some difficulty. He looked at me, his ears flicking. "Where are you going?"

"To get some quiet time," I replied coolly, and I left the Milking Lizard feeling a little hungry, but thankful to get away from Ashton.

I knew perfectly well where to get my quiet time, too; as far as I knew, Ashton avoided the library like a well brought-up fur avoids Kenny Rogers. I had some studying to do on occult themes for that speech in a few weeks, so it all worked out anyway. I checked in with a young giraffe named Tiffany (according to her nametag), and was thus given free reign to the treasure trove of knowledge before me ... as well as adequate coyote-avoidance hiding spots.

Fortunately, the occult section of our campus library was well-stocked, since we weren't permitted to make use of encyclopedias, as the trend goes. I set my books down at a desk and strolled over to the tall shelves, tail flicking in agitation as I scoured the rows upon rows of tomes for something I could use. Nothing that I didn’t already know jumped out at me, and to their credit, they had a number of books which were never translated from Latin or Spanish or Esperanto or whatever language they were in. I was an engineering major, not a linguist, and I wasn't exactly in the mood to ask around for copies in English. My search continued.

I saw a familiar-looking tail in the distance; I assumed the worst and thought Ashton must've found out I was avoiding him. Hastily I grabbed a book from off the shelf, opened it wide and thrust my muzzle into it, making it look like I was deeply engrossed in my choice of literature. I looked out of the corner of my eye, moving the book down just enough to let me see.

Whoever it was, was gone.

Sighing in relief I shut the book and prepared to return it to the shelf, and that was when the title of it caught my eye on the spine.

Acquire Your Wants, Achieve Your Desires: Pagan Arts Through History.

If this wasn't occult, I didn't know what was. I didn't even bother to think of why I hadn't seen it in my search; the spine stuck out more than I had from the Speedo, with unique gold-tinted lettering on a crimson backdrop with fancy silver stenciling on the top and bottom. I did know, though, that this would probably be a wealth of information (the book was rather thick, almost halfway between my outstretched thumb and index finger), and might even be my entire speech. Tucking it under my shoulder I made my way to the check-out counter. A second Tiffany, this one a fawn, greeted me.

"Hello, can I help you?"

I presented her the book and my ID card. Smiling she took them and scanned my card barcode into her computer; my information whirred up onto the monitor. She then flipped open the book without looking at it and brought the laser scanner to the exposed flap like any good automaton would.

Nothing happened. She moved the scanner around, still not looking, and tried to hunt for the barcode on natural instinct. Still nothing. She finally looked down, only to discover there was no barcode to be had.

"This must not be one of our books, sir. I ... guess that means you can just have it."

"Well, don't you have a Lost and Fo---" I suddenly pondered my good luck. Even if the book turned out to be useless, I could still sell it to some old bookstore for money now. This was actually rather cool. Taking back my words I smiled and took both my ID card and the book back, soon after fetching all my other books and proceeding back to my car.

Life smiles on you once in a while.

My dorm room was small, but neat and tidy. That's one of my big problems: I'm a neat-freak. Anyway, it made it easy for me to just drop my stuff by the door as I clutched my little prize in my paws. The lettering and stencils glimmered in the glow of the sunlight outside. I lay out on my bed, taking off my jersey but leaving my jeans on as was my habit, and started idly flipping through pages.

The book seemed to deal a lot with the art of summoning, or conjuring as it was also called. Various pictures and paragraphs described in great detail the rituals of ancient folk whose summons ranged from mere familiars to almighty deities. The concept of the avatar, a direct physical vassal for gods who carried out their wishes using the power of the god in question, was so popular it was given its own chapter. A final chapter dealt with how such conjuring might be rationalized in modern times, such as the Voodoo belief of their gods, or loa, inhabiting their bodies being attributed to drug usage. It was all very interesting, and my side began to ache from lying their so long just reading, but I kept finding myself being drawn back to a strange ritual that was known only as the Deliverer of Insight. Supposedly, what this ritual did was call upon some sort of demon to assist the practitioner in the finding of some personal secret or motive, and when that was done, however long it took, the demon would depart, asking for nothing in exchange. I was very fascinated by this ... but I think what kept me coming back was the large charcoal picture accompanying the description.

It took up the whole page, and it depicted a young canine-looking being kneeling in front of a circle with a pentagram drawn inside, and smoke was rising from the pentagram. Inside the smoke could be seen what I assumed to be the demon being conjured, but lords, what a demon it was. Large, meaty arms crossed over its barrel chest, a stern look on its face accented by glowing eyes, two horns rising majestically over its pointed ears ...

A sigh permeated the air, and I looked around startled

It was just then that I realized I had actually closed my eyes, and my paw had found its way deep into my jeans and was fondling my bulging sheath and ballsac, a hint of dampness on my palm telling me just how aroused this image had made me. I admit to beating off to pictures before, but usually those fell into the typical 'pornography' category like everyone else, not to who-knows-how-old drawings of possibly-Satanic rituals. It got so bad I actually had to pull my paw out and unzip my jeans, shaking them off furiously as I fought to free my sheath from its confines, finding relief in the cool, open air that hit it. I never denied myself physical pleasure, merely believing it to be a fire to be quenched when necessary, so I shrugged to myself and just lay there, looking at the picture as my fingers danced over my bulge, only bringing enough pleasure back that it was a comfort to stroke myself; I wasn't in much of a mood to get up and clean myself from the climax I knew I would have if I got any more into it.

I have no idea how long I lay there staring at the picture and petting my sheath, occasionally teasing the small slit at its tip with my fingernail; all I knew was that it was soon dark, and I was forced to abandon my moment to get up and turn on the lights. Looking back down at the picture, and at my own nude self, I decided something almost then and there.

I had to perform this ritual. After all, nothing would probably happen, and knowing what went through the minds of these ancient peoples as they tried to bring forth magic creatures and alien gods would help with my speech.

It was just hocus-pocus ... what could it hurt?

The ritual itself was explained in great detail, but what was used in it was left a little more vague, which made me very upset. However, having passed the trials and tribulations of the Schattenjäger initiation ceremony in Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers, I figured that improvisation wouldn't be frowned upon by whatever beings might appear with my incantations. Judging from the drawing, I would need … well, a circle and pentagram on the ground, for one, but also some kind of incense to burn in two urns. The canine figure was holding a dagger in his paws, as well, and the incantation referred to the shedding of one's life to bring the demon into being, so I could only guess that blood was called for (hopefully only enough that I had but to prick my finger). So I set to work, encouraged by mental visions of the demon holding me tightly in his powerful arms as he drove who knows how many inches -- or even FEET -- into me, over and over again.

Finding the incense was very easy; a New Age store was right down the block from campus, and I narrowed my purchase down to a set of small bags of the stuff, as well as a pair of small burners with dragons etched into them. I thought of the circle I was supposed to make on the ground, and it reminded me of the Voodoo vévé, and those were typically made out of flour. Sacks of that were cheap, and it would be easy to vacuum up, so it was my prime choice. And I had a small letter-opener which had a very precise blade, and I would be able to prevent severing any arteries that way, so I picked up a bottle of rubbing alcohol as well as some general disinfectant to wipe the blade with … after all, didn't want to develop gangrene during this little venture into the supernatural.

Coming back to my dorm I rushed into the room and locked the door. Even though I didn't have a roommate (Ashton had thought it best that we stay in separate rooms, since we probably wouldn't get much done if we were together, if you get my drift), I still feared the possibility of getting interrupted by other rowdy students who had had one too many to drink. I dumped my materials down on the carpet and pushed tables and chairs off to the sides, making a nice empty space in the middle of the room. Looking at the clock on my nightstand, the dim electric numbers read out 6:49. I thought about waiting for nighttime, to make it more … meaningful, but I admit, I was really giddy about what I was doing. It felt like I was breaking some serious rules. I wanted to do it now.

Taking the bag of flour, I poured the dust down onto the carpet in the best circle shape I could. It was rather sloppy, but hopefully workable.Then I used most of the bag to create as accurate a pentagram as I could manage. Looking down at it from above, the whole design looked very primitive and dull, and I have something of an artist bug inside of me, so I spruced it up with smaller symbols using the leftover flour: spirals, crosses, anything archaic and mysterious I could think of. When I pulled back up, I had a grade-A vévé on my dorm room floor.

My handy gun-shaped gag lighter was more than enough to get the incense lit, and I set them to either side of the powder circle as their drifing smoke made creepy patterns in the air. I felt in the right mood already, and a smile crossed my lips as I took in the entire scene I was creating. Placing the book to my side, I knelt down in front of the circle, checking over some lines for any last-minute preparations. Something that struck me was that the figure in the drawing was naked ... this led me to wonder if I should be, as well. Shrugging, I thought, what the hell, it wouldn't be a particularly new situation to me. So off came the jersey and the jeans, leaving my furry body open to the air, the floating bits of incense melding their way around me.

I took my disinfected letter opener and pricked my finger hesitantly, wincing as the droplet of red formed from my pawpad, and squeezing the digit, I coaxed a few drops of blood to fall into the very middle of the circle, hoping to God that it would clean up easily. Putting the blade down as I popped my finger in my mouth to stifle the leaking blood, I flipped a page or two into the book to where the incantation was displayed, briefly reviewing it as my tongue registered less and less salty taste, until I felt pretty sure the wound was dry. Almost entirely from the book rather than memory, with my arms raised into the air, I recited aloud:

I felt so stupid.

Here I was, kneeling down in my birthday suit with my arms all spread-eagled, speaking utter nonsense and hoping to get an actual answer to it, and I'd made a mess of my dorm room just to see it through. Not to mention the money I'd wasted on all this junk. Seconds ticked by, and all I heard was the faint rustling of leaves outside my window, the dim stars starting to become clearer as dusk faded into the cold blackness of night. I dropped my arms and sighed in disappointment at myself. I was seriously upset. Engineers don't sit on the floor with their sheath hanging out asking unreal demons for a quick fuck, and yet, I was. I had actually gone and done it; not just read the words like a drone who didn't expect anything to happen, I actually believed something would appear. Not even Ashton could be this gullible.

Kicking my foot across the flour to smear the circle/pentagram, I walked over to my bed and collapsed on it, groaning as I dragged my paws down my face over my muzzle. The clock read a little after seven, as good a time to sleep as any. I hoisted my feet up onto the mattress, not bothering to put anything on, and shut my eyes, hoping slumber would come soon.

Or at least some semblence of sanity for my brain. Whichever came first.

My ears perked up, and I smacked my lips together doggedly. I had heard … some kind of movement. It seemed rather faint, like it was either far away or nearby and on some soft surface. A soft surface like cloth or fabric ...

Or carpeting. Whatever it was ... it was in the room with me.

I instantly sat up and opened my eyes in alarm, ready to either gasp or flat-out scream, and at the same time, an incredible weight covered my front, pinning me back down on the bed, and something large, warm and somewhat leathery covered my eyes, keeping me trapped in the darkness.

"Do not move or cry out ... do not look on me ... or the contract shall be broken ..." a deep voice said simply, almost calmly to me. My fears were answered; my room had been broken into, and now whoever had done it was on top of me, keeping their hands against my eyes.

My breath came in terrified, raspy spurts, my eyes blinking in an attempt to make the light come back on their own. "Who are you??! What do you want with me??" I whimpered, squirming helplessly underneath the massive body above me.

"Do your memories fade so quickly, fox? I am he whom thou hast called forth from the realm beyond this one."

Panic continued to wrack my mind until the voice's last words finally managed to sink in. I froze up immediately, not daring to think it was true ... could it really be?

"Called forth? You mean … you are the one I sent for with my incantation?"

"I am he of whom thou speaks."

A well of joy started to form in my chest. I had done it! The ritual was a success! I almost felt like grabbing him and kissing him right then and there! "Then please," I pleaded with him, "let me look on you!"

"I cannot do so."

"… Well, why not?" I actually tried to pry away the hand over my eyes … God only knows why, if the picture in the book was accurate.

The hand remained steadfast, pressing more firmly to my face, and when my efforts ceased the demon replied, "It is written on the sacred scrolls … the master must not see the servant, lest the servant depart and await a new master."

My heart sank! This couldn't be true. "But … but what if the master wants to see the servant as a part of the request?"

"It cannot be done. If I am to remove my hand from over your eyes, you must know that until I depart, they must not ever open in my presence, not even a mere slit, for the smallest window will be just cause for my departure. Do you understand?"

Gulping a lump in my throat, I nodded and closed my eyes willfully. Feeling over them with his fingers, the demon grunted in approval and pulled his hand away, the cool rush of air a great relief. "Now," he said, still atop me, which I was rather enjoying despite my initial fear, "what is thy bidding?"

I lifted my paws and, a bit daringly even to me, pressed them to where I heard the voice coming from, and my pawpads found the curves of what I deduced to be a cheek. "To be honest, what I bid from you is … companionship."

A few moments of silence followed my request, the demon not moving atop me, and my paw not moving on his face. Finally, I heard his bass voice rumbling, "You want but the attentions and affection of another?"

"I do … more specifically, a certain someone."

Another few moments of silence. I couldn't believe my own lips. How was I managing to B.S. this so well? I attributed most of it to the inability to look at him; if I were to see before me the three-dimensional version of the well-defined monster in the book, I know I would dissolve into a puddle of lust and ask him to make me his right this minute. Before I could dwell on it too much, though, he spoke again.

"Yes, I see in your mind that which you most desire … and yes, it is the attentions of another … I am now yours until these attentions are fully realized."

I couldn't believe my ears. He was actually agreeing to it. Of course, I had no idea of whether or not he knew what I had in mind for him, but I knew I couldn't do anything to jinx this. It really was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. I brought my paw back down from his face.

"Excellent, I am pleased you undertake my request," I told him, trying to sound as confident as possible. "Is it possible that we could get started now?"

"You have but to say thy bidding, master."

"Very well, then. Since I cannot look at you directly … do you object to my feeling over your body? To get a better idea of it?"

"Yes, master, if you believe it will bring you closer to your wish" he replied, and he scooted back off of me to another point on the bed; I could tell from the weight displacement on the mattress. I didn't even have to think about it to know this would bring me closer, all right, as I sat up and drew closer to him until I could feel his body heat, then tenatively reached a paw forward. Abruptly I came into contact with his iron-wrought musculature enveloped in a leathery hide, the slopes and curves of the mammoth frame telling me I had found a pectoral, probably his right. I smiled widely, that being one of my favorite spots as Ashton knew from many minutes spent with yours truly suckling on one of his sweet nipples like a famished cub. The specter of that taste danced over my tongue as I imagined if this being's taste would be as such, and my explorations grew more daring as lust and greed drove me onwards. The demon, to his credit, barely moved an inch or even breathed deeper, his lungs expanding and contracting under my paws, and I drew nearer to him, my ears fixiated on the devil, wanting to hear SOME kind of erotic noise from him. I brought my muzzle forward to where my paw lingered on his chest, and my whiskers pulled back sensitively when my lips touched to his front. Brushing them smoothly over his front, my paws journeyed to the back of the demon, embracing him as they continued to explore, and the hot used air passed from my mouth and echoed back to my muzzle off his chest, making me feel very warm inside as well as out. I became unconscious to the fact that my 'feeling over his body' was soon turning into something far more primal, my entire body seeming to act on some unknown signals as I drew closer and closer to the demon, and not even my full sheath pressing into his stomach barred me from the sexual drive now filling my brain, nostrils flaring with his deep masculine scent.

Still, he didn't move while my arms held onto him tightly, my sheath nudging itself into his abdominal cavity and making me groan as my tongue hung from my lips when it wasn't passing over his flesh. The taste came back quite strange and new to me, not really comparing to anything I'd had before, but it proved to be very intoxicating. My lop-sided passionate embrace continued unabated as I imagined the being I clung to so tightly ravaging me, draining his heavy balls into my rectum …

That was when it occurred to me: I had absolutely NO idea what my demon slave was like under the belt. My legs against him gave me the impression that he didn't wear any sort of pants or other such garment, so my paws came back to his front and followed his hide down to his legs, letting my fingers caress and trail over his thigh area.

"No, demon, I want you to expose yourself to me, and let me feel over your co---" Thinking that I should at least look professional, I corrected myelf, "---your endowments."

"As you wish," he replied simply, and my paws parted with his well-developed legs as he spread them to either side, sitting more or less spread-eagled and very ready for me to examine. My muzzle came down first, drawn by the intense scent of his musk, and I inhaled deeply. The smell was like heaven, permeating every pore of my being, and I shivered as I eagerly lifted back up and brought my paws down to find out his size. I pushed both paws as deep and hard into his crotch as I possibly could.

Hot flesh was my reward, a familiar tubular length of flesh greeting my open paws, and my fingers instinctively closed around it. I gasped again when I felt its mere girth; my fingers just barely touched in my grip. I brought my paws down to the root of it, and slowly I drew them both up, stroking upwards as I mentally estimated the length of it. My math was always a little rusty, but I could easily tell that he outmeasured Ashton; by how much, exactly, I could never say. My fingertips reached the tip of his cockhead, and it sloped inwards towards a somewhat blunt surface, then dipped inwards to the smaller channel that would carry my ultimate reward. Very pleased with my findings, I released his flaccid cock and reached down under it to where I prayed his testicles would be, and there they were, in a sizeable sac as well. My paws toyed with the large globes, rolling them in my palm as I again listened for the demon to moan or grunt or do ANYTHING at all.

Nothing.

I couldn't help but be amazed at his self-control; if Ashton were doing to me exactly what I had done to my demon slave, I would have near been begging for mercy as the throes of an orgasm sent my senses on its roller coaster ride. Then I wondered, what if he actually CAN only do what I ask him? What if I had to ask him to feel sexual pleasure in order for him to do so? This opened up a great many more ideas that made me shiver; things I wished I could do with Ashton but were impossible, I could now accomplish in the strong arms of this demon I had called into this world for only the purpose of sexual and spiritual satisfaction. And he wouldn't leave my side until that had been accomplished.

I was the luckiest fox in the world.