Miles had been blackout drunk exactly once in his life. It had been at a house party back in New Garden, two years before his parents' divorce, Seneca City, and a life surrounded by zetamorphs. In fact, it was just a week or so after he'd first met Tyler in a biology class. He'd been a transfer student and instantly popular thanks to his good looks and natural charisma.
There had been a mutual attraction from the beginning, although Miles hadn't recognized it. All he knew is that he liked Tyler, and his usual method of flirting (inviting guys home so he could blow them) didn't seem to work. For one thing, Miles kept getting nervous about pushing for sex, which hadn't ever been an issue for him. The other thing was that Tyler liked to turn his invitations back on him, so instead of private time in his bedroom, they ended up at a movie theater or the county fair.
That was how a plan to hang out at Tyler's over a weekend his parents were out turned into a house party. Someone had supplied booze, and Miles had decided drinking a lot might impress Tyler. As stupid as that idea had been, it had worked, mostly. Early in the evening, Miles had furtively tugged Tyler into his bedroom where they'd finally had sex for the first time. The confirmation that Tyler liked him too had been exhilarating, and he was so gratified by the experience that he didn't realize how wasted he was until it was too late to do anything about it.
His brain had politely edited the part where he was sick from his memory. He did remember spending most of the night staring at the ceiling fan in a spare bedroom, desperately trying to force the geometry of the room conform to the usual constraints of straight lines and level floors.
In the present, he was going through a similar experience. Instead of the euphoria he associated with being drunk, though, he mostly just felt confusion. The room seemed to be spinning, and he kept getting this inexplicable, sweet taste on the back of his tongue.
He was also having a hard time remembering exactly how many drinks he'd had before he'd let the zeta he'd been flirting with escort him to one of the private rooms. First, there'd been the beer he'd ordered from the cute lynx manning the service station near the pool on the second floor.
That had been early in the night though, and lots of people had offered to buy him drinks. He'd only accepted one of those, in the form of a rum and coke. Or had that been his third? He thought someone might have handed him a second beer at some point, and now he was thinking about it, there might have been another rum and coke in there as well. He also remembered some apple cider down in the lower bar, but he couldn't remember if that was from his last visit or this one.
The nagging sense that something was wrong kept interfering with his ability to focus on what was actually happening to him in the present. All those sensations felt like they were happening to someone else while his mind kept playing through other memories, often in ways that felt far more vivid.
He felt like a character in an old sitcom – one of the guys who tried to date two women at the same time without them finding out (why were they always straight couples?). The character would run back and forth between dates, making increasingly stupid excuses to leave and go to the other one, until he inevitably fucked something up and everything blew up in his face. Except here, it was like both dates were sitting at the same table, but neither of them could tell the other was there.
He realized his body was trembling, and that brought him momentarily into the present. That definitely wasn't right. When he looked down at the zeta underneath him, he half expected to see russet and cream fur, blue slitted eyes, and chocolate brown ears. Instead, he found himself looking into the green eyes of a felinid zetamorph with gold fur and black spots.
Of course. The cheetah. That was who had bought him the rum and coke. Miles had liked the way his eyes looked when they caught the light of one of the outdoor torches, and he'd had a charming smile. So, he'd decided to take a risk and accept the drink (and the conversation). After all, it had worked out all right with Virgil.
Now they were having sex. Miles was riding him, straddling his stomach. Except that was over. They'd both just cum. The cheetah was panting slightly, smiling up at him with a fang-filled grin. Miles looked down and confirmed his own orgasm in the form of a sticky mess sprayed across the felinid's ivory-furred stomach.
"Is this real?" he thought to himself. Although the cheetah's chuckle made him think he had said it out loud. Everything had a strange blurry quality to it.
Focusing, the human leaned forward and placed his hands on either side of the zeta's muzzle. A short gasp escaped him at the sudden vividness of sensation against his fingers: short, velvety fur, warm skin underneath, hard bones of the cheetah's face. Yes, this was definitely real.
Unexpected relief washed over him as his sense of reality refreshed itself. He'd felt like he'd been floating in deep water, and now he was finally feeling solid ground under his feet for the first time in hours. Eager for more sensation, his fingers traced the sinuous black curves on either side of the cheetah's muzzle until strong hands grabbed his wrists, apparently not trusting him to continue that exploration near his eyes.
What had his name been? Paden? Yes, he thought that was right.
"Ari, you gave him too much. He's tripping really hard."
The cheetah's raspy voice had a strange accent. He'd liked it though. Something about the way it sounded had reduced him to blushes and coy glances for most of the evening. God, Tyler was right, he really was a slut.
He didn't resist the cheetah's grip and instead tried to force his mind and senses to focus on further anchoring himself in this moment and the sense of continuity.
"He's small, but the first one wasn't working. I gave him a second."
That voice was deeper than the other. He liked the way the vibration felt against his back. He was only briefly startled to remember that there was a second person in here with him. Because of course there had been two of them. The other, more muscular and taller was behind him. Jesus, they were both inside him. How had he forgotten that? He'd never done that before. It didn't hurt, but he felt that maybe it should.
For a few seconds, he was in Mr. Riley's class, listening to him warn about how barbs could cause internal injuries if you weren't careful. He didn't feel like he'd been careful, and now he imagined the look he'd get if he had to explain some kind of sex injury to his father.
"They're supposed to take a few minutes to hit. They're dosed for fucking zeas. Bloody hell, he's burning up. If he gets sick we're going to be fucked."
He did feel overheated, but he'd assumed it was because he was sandwiched between two furred bodies and because the sex had been intense. Or was he thinking of what he'd done with Virgil and Simon again?
He looked around the room, trying to keep the tide from sweeping his mind back out into deep water again.
This was only his second time in one of these rooms. This wasn't the same one he'd shared with the hare and fox, but it was nearly identical: naked brick walls, simple but well-crafted wooden furniture with dark metal accents. Most of the space was filled by the wooden platform bed they were currently occupying, made up with simple, freshly laundered white linens (although they weren't exactly fresh any more). No other blankets or pillows were provided. It wasn't that kind of room.
The only other furniture in the room was a small round table with three wooden chairs and a pair of lamps built into the wall on either side of the bed. Even to Miles' human nose, the room's air was unpleasantly sterile underneath all the sex smells. He'd heard a few zetas complain about things like that, but it was the first time he'd ever noticed it. Some deodorizing products apparently fucked with your sense of smell if they were used to heavily.
"The heat is nice, no?" He felt a soft palm on his forehead and a cold nose against his neck. "No fever. The heat is from the plugs. He'll be fine."
"Plugs?" Miles asked, not understanding how the word worked in this context. He kept thinking about plugging his phone charger into the wall, and his brain fixated on that for several long seconds. Where was his phone?
Vaguely, he remembered aquamarine eyes reflecting in the dark as the larger of the felinids produced a small plastic baggie from his pocket. Miles had seen a bottle and some familiar looking wrappers and assumed the bag was just for lube and condoms. Those had made him feel safer. But he had been somewhat drunk when he'd come up here. Could there have been something else in there? Or maybe the lube had been laced with something. He vaguely remembered reading something about that once.
They seemed to have picked up on his concern. Both were stroking him now. Their soft-padded hands felt nice against his skin.
"Shh, Maandhow," a voice cooed into his ear while a sharp claw slowly traced the edge of the bar in his nipple. A shudder passed through him and he nearly came. He wasn't even hard. "You feel good, yes? Just float and be pretty. Thinking too much ruins the moment, yes?"
"Float? No, I can't—"
He couldn't finish the thought as the zeta shifted his hips and then shoved deeper into him. Miles arched his back out of sheer reflex. Oh, that hurt, but it also felt amazing. More intense than any sex he'd ever had, except possibly that time with Alec. And no one was even touching his dick.
He didn't realize the animal-like sound echoing through the room was him until he'd stopped making it. The zetas didn't seem to mind. The one underneath him was staring up at him with those green eyes all but oozing lust. And dammit, in spite of the urgent understanding that something was wrong, the only thing he could think about was how good he felt and how he would do just about anything to keep it going.
Embarrassed at how much noise he was making, he put his forearm to his mouth and collapsed most of his body against the zeta underneath him just so he could muffle the sounds he couldn't stop himself from making.
Then he heard Virgil's somewhat husky voice in his ear and he was gone. Back in the memory. Except now it didn't feel like a memory, and he was questioning whether that other thing with the cats had been real at all. That other him, the one reduced to a trembling, sex-addled idiot felt far away.
"Oh, you don't need to worry about that, dear. These rooms have soundproofing built into the walls. That's why we can't hear the music from downstairs." Simon was underneath him. The red fox's long muzzle was parted slightly and he was panting.
Behind him, Virgil was holding him (mostly there for emotional support at that moment). Miles liked the way the hare's arms felt around his chest.
"That means you can get as loud as you want," the hare had whispered, arms wrapped tightly around his chest. With Miles on top, the fox seemed to be exercising a great deal of restraint to avoid grabbing the human and forcing a tie before the human was ready.
Glancing down, Miles was briefly surprised to find the arms around him were covered in golden fur and a constellation of solid dark spots. Gods, he'd lost track of himself again. He wriggled, against the way they were holding him, trying to get free, but the one behind him was getting close and he snarled loudly against his ear.
Instinctively, he froze. Then whimpered as the cheetah bit down on his shoulder and slammed hard into him one last time. The prick of his teeth caused his skin to burn and the pulsing of the cock inside him caused waves of pain and pleasure to cascade through his entire body. He shuddered, then cried out again as his own powerful orgasm took him. He rode the crest of sensations as best he could, but he was lost in it for sometime.
The feel of hot breath against his neck was what pulled him back this time. The felinid was pulling back, and his teeth had left Miles's skin oversensitive. He felt a warm trickle, and was somewhat terrified to see he was bleeding from the bite. Rather than pain, the sensation sent a vibrating thrill down his side, a sensation that seemed to echo through every nerve in his body. Thin lines of blood from where the cheetah's teeth had pierced his skin were now oozing down his arm, and tears were slowly streaming down his cheeks.
The one below him was trying to soothe him. "Shh. You're fine. You did good." Miles accepted this, and didn't resist as they put him onto his side, shuddering from occasional aftershocks of sensation. He didn't quite sleep, but he wasn't quite conscious either. He simply drifted between memory and sensation. He couldn't have said for how long.
A knocking sound on the door startled him back into consciousness. His head throbbed, and that reminded him again of that party two years earlier – or at least the aftermath of it. Still, his mind didn't seem to be drifting quite so much as before. The smaller of the cheetahs was still cuddled up to him in the bed, spooning him. A soft arm was draped over his hips, and though he was certain that something was very wrong, the physical presence was still comforting.
Miles stirred on the bed, eyes going to the door where he saw Ari, the larger of the cheetahs, moving to answer the knock. He opened it without hesitation, and three more cheetahs walked in. Each had a similar build to the others that he assumed was common for the breed: skinny, tall, and long-limbed, though there were clear differences if you looked long enough. Miles found himself giving nicknames to them based on the most obvious distinctive features. One was a few inches shorter than the others, except for Paden, and he had the remnants of an old scar across his left cheek, so he became Scar. Another had a pair of glasses and an icy facial expression that made him seem cruel and disinterested at the same time. The last was more heavily muscled, and had styled and dyed his headfur into a red stripe resembling a mohawk. Despite the differences, all three were wearing dark slacks and white collared shirts and skinny red ties. The same outfits Paden and Ari had been wearing when Miles had met them downstairs.
He'd assumed they were a couple. He'd thought it was cute how they dressed alike. Now, he was remembering Alec's warning about zeta gangs.
Miles tried to sit up all the way, but Paden wouldn't let him. He pulled him back down next to him. The three of them were still nude, and the reek of sex was still overhwhelming those sterile chemicals he'd noticed before.
Mohawk's eyes lingered on Miles's naked form for several long moments as he scanned the room, but the others didn't seem all that interested.
"What took you so long, I texted an hour ago," Ari was saying.
Glasses folded his arms and leaned against the small wooden table. "There's someone downstairs asking around for you two. He kept trying to follow us around."
Ari's stance stiffened and his tail switched behind him. "Who?' There weren't any hyenas today, I would have taken care of that."
Mohawk shook his head, turning his leering eyes from Miles and to Ari. "Not a 'yeen. Wolf. I think he was one of the dancers."
Miles felt a sense of relief. Had he told Alec he was going to be here? He remembered a conversation in a parking lot where he'd agreed to do that, but he couldn't remember if he actually had.
"You know who that is?" Paden murmured behind him. His voice was gentle, but it had a tone of command behind it.
He tried to speak, his voice was croaky. "I'm not sure."
Ari swore. "Fucking pups think they own every human who walks through the door." Hard eyes fell on Miles. "Who is he?"
Miles shook his head. "I don't— don't know, I think it might be my friend from school."
He didn't think he should have said that, but his thoughts were coming so slowly. It was like trying to run in knee-deep water. Worse, his sense of continuity was still adrift. He was no longer bouncing between the past and present, but he was having trouble remembering things like what day it was and how he'd gotten here. Had he taken a bus?
A shudder passed through him, and Paden, still in bed with him, noticed. "Shh," he said, placing a hand back on his hip and adding just enough pressure to urge him back down. "Everything's fine."
Except he knew it wasn't.
He tried to get up from the bed again, but Paden pulled him back more forcefully. "You're going to be dizzy. Don't want you to hurt yourself. Do you need water? I can get you something?"
"Stop being a mother hen, Paden. You always do this." That was Glasses.
The smallest of the cheetahs grumbled. "What's wrong with being nice? Besides, Ari bit him pretty fucking hard. I should get something to clean him up."
Ari chuckled. "Yeah. Got carried away. He was squirming a lot."
Miles would have blushed if he hadn't already felt warm all over.
Paden didn't say anything for a few minutes, so Miles said. "I would like some water. Maybe some ice. It's really hot in here."
The cheetah sighed, and Miles saw him shoot Ari a dirty look. "Yeah, you're right." Paden got to his feet and walked around the room to gather up a pair of underwear and his slacks. That was apparently enough for him to feel comfortable stepping out into the public part of the club. "I'll get some ice from the bar."
"Get me a beer," Mohawk said.
"I wouldn't mind another whisky," Ari said, rocking the remnants of a large ice cube at the bottom of a rocks glass
"Yeah, yeah, OK."
"And keep an eye out for that wolf. Not sure what his deal is."
Almost as soon as Paden was gone, Mohawk was giving Miles another one of those long looks. If the others noticed, they didn't say anything.
"If it's one of the lobos, I'm going to be pissed," Ari said. "We're supposed to have first claim on Friday nights."
Scar said something back, but Miles didn't hear him because Mohawk had stepped closer and was running a hand through Miles's hair. "I forget how soft human hair is," he murmured. Miles flinched back, but he had nowhere to go.
Mohawk smiled reassuringly. "Hey, I don't bite," he said that last with a glance towards his shoulder. The bite there wasn't that deep and the bleeding had stopped, but it still throbbed with pain. "What's your name?"
He didn't want to say it, and then he found himself glancing at the other three still in the room with him. They were all watching him now, and he'd never felt more like a piece of meat. Were they all going to want to fuck him? He didn't think he could do that. Even through the haze of alcohol and whatever drug they'd given him, he could feel that he was sore and likely would be for several days. He wondered if it would be worse than how he'd felt after Alec.
Ari seemed to misinterpret his expression – or maybe he just didn't care. "Miles Hawley. He's a senior at East Seneca. Just transferred in from out of state. New Garden, wasn't it?"
Miles didn't remember sharing these details, and he felt mildly embarrassed. He didn't think he was dumb enough to open up to complete strangers like this.
"He's so small," Mohawk said, letting his hand drift to his shoulder, then down his side. Miles shuddered.
Ari chuckled. "He's flexible enough where it counts."
Mohawk licked his chops, hand reaching down to the front of his slack. "That's a pretty name. You think you could do me a favor, Miles?"
Miles had a pretty good idea what kind of 'favor' the cheetah had in mind. For possibly the first time in his life he felt more fear than anything else at the prospect of sucking a dick. He swallowed, looking up at Mohawk with wide eyes, then back to Ari and his two cronies who were all still watching closely. None of them moved to help.
A long-fingered hand wrapped around the back of his head and urged him to the swelling ridge now concealed only by a dark pair of boxer-briefs. Miles closed his eyes and consigned himself to what was about to happen.
A booming thud sounded from the door and echoed off the brick walls. He jumped, as did the felinids. He reflexively muttered an apology, but Mohawk shoved him away and the others were all ignoring him now, their full attention on the door way. Glasses was reaching into his pocket.
"What the fuck?" Scar said.
There was a second loud impact of something against the heavy wooden door, followed by faint talking sounds. He couldn't make out the voices. .
"Paden, is that you?" Ari called out, a dangerous edge to the question. Glasses had produced some kind of slender pocket knife. Maybe a switchblade.
A muffled voice came from the other side, followed by the sounds of the door unlocking. He recognizes Paden's accented voice, but Miles couldn't make out what he was saying.
The others seemed to relax. Though not entirely. The knife didn't go away.
The door opened, and a tall, bare-chested figure – Paden – stepped slowly into the room. There was a short corridor connecting the main room to the door, and a bathroom off to the side. The lights were off, and it was difficult to make out what was going on. Still, it was clear to all of them, including Miles, that something was wrong. The cheetah was moving slowly, a slight limp in his step.
Then the felinid was stumbling forward, crying out in alarm as he tripped, then fell to the ground near the bed. In the light provided by the bedside lamps, Miles got a glimpse of the cheetah's face. He looked dazed, and he was bleeding from his nose and cheek. One of his eyes was badly swollen. He groaned from the floor, but didn't try to get up.
Still standing in the hallway was a canid figure. He was shorter than the cheetah's, but wider. Tall triangular ears and golden eyes that almost seemed to glow made it clear the intruder was a canid. Behind him, two other zeta figures stood in the doorway, both looking a bit more tense than Alec, who simply glowered at the remaining cheetahs.