He's late. He's never late. I took care of everything. What's holding him up?

This morning I ran another ridiculous scheme with my pride of Sex Kittens and he swooped in to save the day, just like we planned. And after the whole ordeal, I cleaned up any evidence of collaboration and put everything back in order like nothing happened. I've been done for twenty minutes, but he's still not here.

So what's taking him so long?

I wait anxiously at our appointed spot, fidgeting with my felt top hat.

He better not be reneging on our deal. We've been doing this for years, and he's never been late to our secret meetings before.

The sound of approaching boots echoes against the damp concrete walls of the secret passage beneath the city. I catch a whiff of wet dog—a very specific wet dog, one that I've become intimately familiar with. My body vibrates in anticipation of his arrival, and I can't help but lick my lips.

"Dryver," I purr. "Did you get more funding from Mayor Woodgay?"

The young man rounds the corner looking as delectable as ever, his sky-blue vest flapping open to reveal the ridges of his muscles. Though I released tension with a Kitten less than an hour ago, my slacks tighten dangerously at the sight of his virile body. My eyes follow the trail of soft, silky fuzz from his chest to the V of his Adonis belt, accentuated by his low-riding jeans.

"Of course, my dear Hamdonger. If we were in another business, I might have called her my sugar mama." Dryver's lips curl into a predatory smirk as he eyes the growing tent under my beer gut. "Now, let's finish our deal before we get distracted."

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a large stack of bills. "What would your little Soggy Sodom be if not for Journey Cove funding your coffers?"

"Do not talk about my town," I hiss. "We are not here to discuss politics." Snatching the money, I stuff it into the deep inner pocket of my purple suit jacket before shooting him a glare.

Dryver merely smiles, canines flashing. "I'm sorry, you just really bring out the... wolf... in me."

"You can't just use your alpha status to get away with everything, Dryver. That only works with your mangy pack of mutts," I snarl.

Bristling with anger, I turn towards the exit, but Dryver grabs my arm before I can take a step. "Oh, you're not getting away with calling my pack mangy, no," he growls, making my hairs stand on end. "You're about to learn what it means to submit to your Alpha." He drops trou in the middle of the underground passage, exposing the thick, erect flesh of his ungroomed manhood.

Whenever I see his cock, I can't help myself. I just can't. And I think he knows it, because it's not the first time he's brandished his pocket-sausage at me to stop me from leaving.

I'm just glad I remembered the peanut butter this time.

I try to wrangle a plastic jar from my coat pocket with my free hand, but Dryver jerks my arm and I stumble to my knees. My matching purple hat falls off, leaving the top of my head bare and cold.

"Trying to escape, are we?"

"N-no, I would never."

I could never.

There's something about him that draws me in, even though we're supposed to be sworn enemies. I can't get caught tangled with him, or our entire operation would collapse, but it's getting increasingly difficult for us to stay hidden.

"Then what are you struggling for?"

My heart rate kicks up a notch and I feel my cheeks get hot. "Well..."

Dryver's eyebrows go up as he waits for my response. "Well?"

"I was trying to reach my pocket."

He narrows his eyes at me with suspicion. "What's in your pocket?"

I can't tell him about the peanut butter, can I? Sure, we've known each other for years, but it was always a business relationship. This intimate stuff only started in the past few months, and I don't think we're quite at that level of trust when it comes to personal matters.

So it's probably safer to keep this to myself.

I flash Dryver a brief, timid smile. "The money. I don't want it to fall out of my pocket."

"I see." He doesn't push, but I can see the doubt clouding his eyes. "Well, don't be afraid to be open with me. I am your Alpha, after all."

He returns to stroking his shaft with his free hand, and my mouth waters at the sight. "Now, are you going to be good and take my cock, dear Hamdonger?"

I realize that I won't need the peanut butter if I suck him off, so I move closer to him until my lips touch the head of his juicy, hairy meat stick.

"You're a dream come true, Mayor."

I draw him in until the big lump at the base of his dick rests against my chin. 

"Hammy," he growls, "I want to knot in your mouth."

Keeping his cock in place, I shake my head. He seems a little disappointed, but the last time I let him do it, I was stuck on his crotch for nearly fifteen minutes and I could barely breathe. He almost dislocated my jaw, and my face cramped for an entire week.

"Fine. I won't go that deep this time."

Dryver slowly fucks my face, his groans of pleasure echoing in the underground tunnel.

He's told me that he loves how my textured feline tongue feels on his shaft. Since the hooks of my cat tongue turns into bumps when I'm human, his pork doesn't get pulled and tenderized. So I lick him like I'm grooming my pubes. Every pass of my tongue is firm but careful, and he rewards me with the praise I so love to hear.

"That's good, 'Donger. So, so, good."

Sucking Dryver makes my own cock rub against my tight cotton briefs. I'm so hard that every little bit of friction brings me closer to release. I moan, sending vibrations from my throat to the tip of his dick.

"Hammy, oh, Hammy..."

I suck and suck and suck until he explodes with a shout, making me ejaculate into my own underwear. I swallow every last drop of his fresh, organic protein shot like a cat drinking milk.

Then again, I am a cat drinking milk.  Or more specifically, a werelion drinking Dryver's milk.

I smile internally as I finish off the last spurts of his thick, salty semen.

But the sticky feeling in my underwear reminds me that my walk home is going to be a little uncomfortable. I could either wear this all the way back, or go commando, and I might end up chafing either way.

Dryver pulls me to my feet and draws my attention away from my dilemma. "I am your Alpha, my dear Hamdonger," he whispers as he caresses my cheek with his knuckles. "Accept it." His breath tickles my skin, giving me goosebumps.

"How can you be my Alpha?" I mewl. I take a deep breath to re-center myself. "I'm not even a canine."

He holds me close and strokes what's left of my hair. "I've chosen you as my Luna."