Author: Nora Charles (nora_charles)
Summary: Magic makes them do it. Then what?
Spoilers and/or Warnings: Consent issues, leopard porn, incest.
Title, Author and URL of original story: Leopard porn (leopards have great balance) by naotalba
Thank you to my beta-reader, ximeria, who went above and beyond, considering she's not in this fandom, dislikes incest and leopard porn, and was on vacation.
A "Magical" First Date for Salisbury couple
by Lisa Nowak, staff writer.
In what is becoming an annual tradition, we once again celebrate Valentine's Day with a local couple whose anniversary falls on that most romantic of days. Derek and Beula had been friendly for almost a year, before Derek made his move on the woman he lovingly describes as his soul-mate.
"I was beginning to think my appreciation for this handsome fellow was one-sided," Beula laughs, and squeezes Derek's arm. "So when he asked me out for Valentine's Day and suggested we go to a hotel that same night, I immediately agreed, though I'm not at all that kind of girl!"
Derek's ears flush rosily, as he shyly and sweetly returns Beula's smile. "Looking back, that was mighty audacious of me," he admits ruefully. "The truth is, I had been madly in love with Beula from the moment I met her. But ever since I had been to England, where a shop-keeper gave me the evil eye, I had had a problem which prevented me from having a girlfriend."
As local legend has it, Mrs. Gifford, the proprietress of the Salisbury Hotel on Main Street was a bit of a yenta. In life she loved nothing better than fixing up couples, and would even work her magic on guests in the hotel. "I had heard that when she passed, she blessed the hotel so that if two unattached people spent the night in one of the rooms, they would find love together," Derek chuckles. "Some say that the spirit of Mrs. Gifford will even lift curses from people if that helps bring them together."
"Well, I don't know if I believe in that," Beula answers, "but I assure you we had a lovely date and if someone ever cast the evil eye on Derek, the effects were no longer to be felt that night. And we've been together for five years now, and have a beautiful son."
We wish Derek and Beula a happy anniversary, and all our readers a happy and romantic Valentine's Day.
Salisbury Police Blotter
* A suspicious person was reported on South Walnut Avenue. The subject was delivering newspapers and using a flashlight due to darkness.
* A Cottonwood Avenue resident told police a turkey flew through
her garage apartment.
* A restaurant on South Alice Avenue reported that
the night before, a customer passed what employees
believe is a counterfeit $20 bill. The man was questioned
as to why the money looked funny, and he said, "It just
went through the wash."
* A guest at a hotel on Main Street reported that she had suffered sexual assault. A man of her acquaintance who shared the room with her had hypnotized her into believing that he had turned bright blue, and would only return to his natural color if she had sex with him.
* The manager of a store on East 6th Street observed a man place
seafood and meat items in a hand basket and then place the
basket in his cart, which a female was pushing. The two walked
to the front of the store, where the man took the hand basket
and left without paying, and the woman proceeded to pay for
items in the cart. A patrol stopped the woman in the parking lot
and asked about her involvement in the shoplifting incident. She
said she only knew the suspect as Chuck and he had given her a
ride to the store, but she knew nothing about his actions.
"There have been at least 23 reported date rapes at the Salisbury hotel in the past ten years," Sam said while glancing over his notes. That gibed with what Dean had been able to discover interviewing the lovely ladies at the Subway and in Shannon's Diner.
"Do you think we're dealing with the spirit of Mrs. Gifford, or some sort of mojo to turn the hotel into the love shack?" Dean asked. Looking over dad's journal he hadn't found any cases of restless ghosts manipulating the living into having sex with each other rather than with the spirit.
"I think we're almost certainly dealing with a spell anchored with powerful symbols carved into the building. Mrs. Gifford was cremated, and rapes have taken place in all eight rooms. It's unlikely any hex bags wouldn't have been found and thrown out by hotel maids or guests in all the years since her death."
"Unless she hid them inside the walls," Dean said glumly.
"We should check in to the hotel as guests and snoop around. See if we can find any earthly remains in the owner's private apartment – maybe the daughter kept her mother's antique hairbrush or something. We can also check for magic symbols painted or carved anywhere," Sam decided. "You already ate at the diner, right? We can go to the hotel now."
"Now? We should wait until tomorrow morning. What if we don't break the curse before night, we're two unattached people, Sam!" Dean felt queasy just thinking about it, and it wasn't the excellent boysenberry pie he'd had with his coffee. "Incest is nothing to play around with!"
Sam furrowed his brow in his most serious look, and nodded gravely. "You're right, Dean," he said. "Imagine the kind of horribly deformed kid we'd produce. He'd be nothing but a huge cleft chin, with flippers for hands."
"Bitch," Dean told him, but couldn't help smiling. "We'd love him anyway. For his cute widdle dimples." He pinched Sammy's cheek hard and shook the soft flesh. Sam flailingly tried to get away, and nearly poked Dean in the eye, but it was so worth it.
They quickly swept through all eight hotel rooms. Only two of them were occupied, but the guests weren't in, and picking the locks was a piece of cake. Dean checked his watch. "You go check out the owner's apartment, Sam," he said. "I'll check the outside of the building. We're running out of time."
Sam answered him with an eye-roll, but obediently loped off on his own. Dean went out the back door, and systematically started scanning the yard for any stones or markers with mystical symbols. He'd hate to get caught under the hotel's roof with Sam. The thought of having sex with his little brother was enough to give him chills.
When he had told Cassie the truth about what he did, and she broke up with him, that had hurt so bad. Loving her had been one of the most beautiful experiences of his life, but when a girl said you were through, you were through. Once you mixed sex and love, there was no way of going back to just friends, and all you had left was the pain.
When Sammy had left for Stanford, that had just about torn Dean apart. He missed him so much, countless times every day he would turn around to share a look with Sam, only to find the seat beside him empty. But Sam was his brother, and no separation could change that. He'd always known he could go visit Sam in California and catch up with him, and he had that one time. And he'd always known that if he really needed him, Sam would be there for him.
That's why incest was so damn dangerous, and it chapped Dean that Sam couldn't see it. Sure, nothing was so bad that a Winchester couldn't joke about it, but it was like Sam just didn't get it. Sometimes Dean wondered if other siblings broke that taboo. The total trust and deep understanding you had with a brother was something no stranger, no matter how warm and smart she was, could offer you, and it stood to reason many people wouldn't be able to put generations of wisdom about the utter stupidity of incest above their feelings.
Dean felt a bit guilty thinking it, but it was kind of lucky Sam was so seriously under-sexed. In all the time Dean had spent with him, he'd only ever seen Sam respond to uncommonly beautiful girls and women. There were a lot of hot girls in the world, but Sammy turned his nose up at all Dean's conquests. This one was too dumb, that one was too tacky, the other one was too plain. Plain! Dean was a charming guy, and he only hooked up with really hot chicks. But unless a woman was model gorgeous and had a doctorate in history and read the dictionary for fun, Sammy just didn't feel any sparks.
Dean knew right from wrong, and he'd never do anything to hurt his brother. Just sometimes, it had been a relief that Sam was not able to get in touch with his body enough to feel that sizzle when wrestling strong and close, or even to give an excellent, delicious burger the honest appreciation it deserved.
After nearly an hour's careful searching, Dean spotted the likely anchor for the love shack curse: a series of markings scratched into the decorative gingerbread carving around the roof. It looked like they'd be able to reach them from above. Maybe scratching through them would be enough, but sanding them off completely would probably be the safest solution.
The sun was about to set, and Dean hurried back into the hotel while texting Sam to meet him in their room. They should get their stuff and leave as soon as possible. If Sam bitched about paying for a motel room on top of the hotel, spending the night in the car wouldn't hurt them.
Sam returned to their room soon after Dean. "I didn't find anything in the owner's apartment that looked like it could contain remains holding the spirit here," he reported. "Did you have any luck?"
Dean told him about the symbols, and motioned for him to grab his duffel and get a move on, but Sam refused to budge. "Did you recognize any of them? Maybe the person who carved them meant to carve protective sigils but just made a mistake," Sam said, and then abruptly turned into a human being.
Dean felt his blood pressure spike. He was so angry with Sammy right now, he just wanted to take him by the scruff of the neck and shake him. He had told him. He had told Sam that staying in this hotel past night fall might bring the curse down on them, and he would have to have sex with the stubborn idiot to save him, and it would turn their solid relationship into something fragile and finite.
Sam's human features and body language were difficult to read. He was aggressively staring right at Dean, but he smelled more frightened than angry. Even so, Dean jumped on to the highest surface available, the bed, and this relaxed him slightly.
Sam flailed his hands, and made sounds, but Dean couldn't understand him. Come to think of it, Dean used to speak with words too. Sam was not the one who had been transformed, Dean was. Great. Leopards couldn't hold shotguns or dig up graves. "We'll have to do it, Sam. Having sex is the only way we can be sure to change me back," Dean said. He knew this with a deep certainty, without having thought of it himself.
Sam sat down on the bed next to Dean, and spoke some more human sounds. "You are not going to climb up on the roof in the dark and hang over the edge to sand the symbols off, you idiot," Dean growled at him, and hoped Sam understood.
Sam made more sounds Dean didn't understand, but he could smell a whiff of musky arousal starting to come off him. He hesitantly raised a hand, but stopped before touching Dean. Dean put his paw gently on Sam's arm. "I know what I said. But it's the only way. If you managed to remove the sigils without breaking your fool neck, there wouldn't be any mojo left to change me back." He squeezed Sam's arm gently, mindful of not breaking his naked skin with his claws.
Sam's breath hitched, and he made a little whimpering sound. He stretched his hovering hand the rest of the way, and stroked it down Dean's flank. It felt sort of nice, warm and firm. The thought of having sex without the heady scent of a female in heat to arouse him was strange. It felt more clinical than sexy. But Sam was breathing deeply, shivering and sweating, and was burrowing his fingers deep into the fur over Dean's shoulders. Dean crouched down on his stomach, and Sam leaned over him until he was lying half on top, moaning and rubbing his face on Dean, humping the mattress.
Dean flicked his tail to tell Sam to get a move on, and Sam slowly let go and stood up. Dean could hear him moving around, but kept his head and ears down, eyes closed. As far as he was concerned, this was something to get over with, so he could be the same species as his brother as soon as possible. He purred and kneaded the bed a bit, but softly so Sam wouldn't notice his anxiety. Now was not the time to ruin the mood with a girly moment.
It turned out not to be so bad. Sam found the lube in Dean's duffel, and managed to slick Dean's ass hole up enough to slide in. Dean managed to not turn around and bite Sam, by concentrating on the complex of smells on the mattress, barely masked by the chemical flower scent of the sheets.
When Sam finished and slumped to the side in a sweaty, exhausted heap, Dean turned back into himself, fully clothed and lying on his stomach next to Sam. He looked at him thoughtfully. Sam was flushed red, and his hair was feathering over his closed eyes and sticking to his cheeks. His mouth seemed fuller than usual. He was wearing all his clothes, but his jeans were down around his thighs. His dick was slowly softening inside the condom, leaving a sticky trail on his hairy thigh.
So, this sex-rumpled man was his boyfriend now. Dean has never done it with a man before. His ass was kind of sore, like after catching up on a week without time to waste sitting on the can, but not unbearably so. Having Sam be that physically affectionate had been kind of nice. And the sex would definitely feel better when Dean was aroused too. They could make it work.
Mount Vernon woman accused of sex with "Furry" teen
By the St. Louis Post Dispatch
A 45-year-old Mount Vernon mother is accused of having sex with a 16-year-old boy who also was part of a group that enjoys dressing up as animals.
Her husband notified the Missouri Department of Human Services in February that his wife might be having an improper online relationship with a teen-aged boy.
He also told investigators she had "recently become involved with a group known as 'Furries,' who dress up like animals and have social gatherings online and in person."
Members of the group gave statements to police after the woman's affectionate, sometimes intimate behavior with the teenager at Furries gatherings, called "furmeets."
According to the arrest affidavit, the 45-year-old is friends with the boy's mother. The boy told investigators the 45-year-old "even made a comment about the irony of (his) mom trusting her as a mentor ... and the whole time she was having sex with him."
The boy told police that he and the 45-year-old had sex several times.
After a week Dean wasn't so sure his and Sam's new relationship would hold. Dean was a hot-blooded, affectionate man. He had needs. He had tried everything. He had sat next to Sam in booths, but Sam just moved over. He had suggested wrestling as cardio instead of running, but Sam cheerfully and unaffectedly wrapped his impossibly long limbs around Dean until he was twisted up like a pretzel and helplessly caught, but instead of sex from his new boyfriend, all it got him was taunting and crowing from his annoying little brother.
He had stopped at Sam's favorite kind of eateries, and Sam hungrily dug in to his gourmet salads, and ate Dean's fries afterwards. He demonstratively hid the remote control behind the TV, and Sam contentedly booted up his laptop.
The only thing Dean hadn't done was ask Sam for sex. If Dean got Sam hot, great. If Dean accidentally guilted Sam into letting him get his rocks off on his nobly sacrificed frigid flesh, Dean might as well tear his balls off right now. He wasn't the cheating kind, and didn't think he could live with an open relationship where he got off with chicks in bars and Sam sat in the library mentally masturbating, but neither could he live with imposing his physical needs on Sam.
Sam wasn't completely sexless. That couldn't be it. He had seemed to be into that girl Carli in the eighth grade. And he had definitely blushed when he talked about Elissa, and wanted to borrow Dean's car for the night. Dean hadn't gotten to know Jess before she died, but she had not seemed the kind of girl who would be satisfied with friendly chastity. And Dean knew from personal experience that Sam could get all hot and bothered, under the right circumstances.
But what were the right circumstances, dammit? Other than being a leggy valedictorian and beauty queen? If the research Dean had turned up on furry pervs was the answer, he would honestly be relieved. A little abject humiliation by dressing up in an adult sized Halloween costume was worth it for a fulfilling sex life.
He had not been able to find any leopard costumes, but an online store had overnighted a men's fun fur tiger jumpsuit to the mailbox closest to their planned route. The fur was a bit staticky and smelled like plastic, but it was soft and snuggly, and the suit didn't itch. Dean had cut a slit from front to back in the crotch and quickly hemmed it to keep it from unraveling while Sam was out hustling for some cash in a bar.
Dean had heard the impala pull in and the door slam nearly 20 minutes ago, but he felt riveted to the floor in the dinky bathroom. He was a grown man in a furry polyester footie pajamas. He was wearing a hood with ears sewn on it, for god's sake. He had his shriveling dick doing its cowardly best to hide in the bright fur around the crotch slit. If he had had any black make-up, he could have made his red face match almost perfectly to the orange fake fur.
Well, faint heart never won fair lady, and terrified Dean in a yiff suit was not going to win any bitchy boyfriend if he stayed in the bathroom. With hammering pulse and sweaty palms, Dean turned the knob and walked out.
Sam was sitting on the bed, with his computer in his lap and two coffees and danishes on the table between the beds. He slowly turned his face up toward Dean, but his eyes lagged on the screen in front of him. "I got us a..." he started, then just left his jaw down while he gave Dean the elevator look. Up. Down. Up again.
Dean's legs didn't know whether to go forward or backward, and he couldn't help them out by telling them. Should he try to make some sort of sexy tiger sound? Or should he just stand here like a bright and tacky pornographic statue – yes, that was probably the best plan.
Sam finally collected his wits enough to speak. "Dean!" he said, in a remarkably gravelly voice. Dean saw a wave of red roll up from Sam's collar to his hair line, and the sweat spring out on his upper lip. Suddenly he could move again. He decided sexy tigers didn't speak, but they definitely slinkily walked up beds on all fours. The way Sam continued trying to speak, but didn't manage more than helpless whimpers and glassy staring made it easy for Dean to crawl in between Sam's spread legs and run his fur mittened hands up Sam's loose pants legs.
Sam groaned and slid down, letting his legs fall wider to the sides. Dean could see him popping a tent, and reached out for his jeans zipper. Sam ran his hand up Deans arm wonderingly, following the movement with his gaze. "Dean, you're so soft," he said in a low raspy voice. Dean smirked at him. He was kind of a sex genius, if he did say so himself. "Open this damn zipper for me, and I'll let you feel how soft I am all over, Sammy," he answered.
Sam's hands jumped back to his fly, and Dean attacked the buttons of his flannel shirt instead. He couldn't move his fingers too well, but he could grab each side of fabric and twist them against each other until the button slipped out, and softly tease Sam's chest with the furry backs on his hands all the while.
Sam slid further down the bed, and Dean moved back to give him room, and get out of the way of his kicking legs. As soon as Sam had tossed aside his jeans and boxers, he threw himself on Dean, who willingly let himself be tipped over onto his back. "Dean," Sam said again, fervently and breathily. His pupils were so dilated his eyes looked black, and he stared at Dean with reverence like Dean had personally invented muscle cars and baseball.
Dean pushed the open shirt down Sam's arms, and let it fall. He then slowly swept his arms back around Sam's back and up, not touching him directly but grazing him all the way with his fluffy sleeves. Sam responded by grinding his crotch against Dean's, and nuzzling his face into Dean's neck. Sam's enthusiastic arousal had been fun, but Sam's hard cock and velvety balls rubbing against Dean's dick was pure electricity. Dean tightened his hold on Sam without even meaning to and thrust up against him.
"Dean, Dean, Dean," Sam babbled, and thrust back against him. Dean had not realized how fucking sexy wearing a full body suit could be until now. His body was hot and sticky in the cloth and he could only feel Sam rubbing against him as pressure and heat, except for the tickle of Sam's hair on his cheek and the wet, alternately hot and breezy friction on his crotch. The contrast was amazing.
Dean held onto Sam's back with his left arm around it, and used his right hand and leg to pull Sam close, closer to hump him just right. There! Sam moaned and grunted, and dug his knee into the mattress to get leverage, sliding them both up the bed with his thrusts. The sensation was so intense that Dean couldn't even process it as pleasure or pain, he just knew he needed to come. Getting the right rhythm and angle wasn't possible with Sam's thrusting and pushing him, and the constant teasingly nearly perfect friction made Dean burn stronger and stronger. He was wound up tightly all along his spine, his vision was swimming with dancing colored spots of light, and he felt light-headed. He wasn't sure if he was hanging half off the edge of the bed, because everything was moving and jumping to a primal beat and the blood in his ears was roaring and Sam was moaning his name.
Sam got a good grip on both Dean's hips, and Dean felt his way to Sam's neck, which he petted and grabbed, and then to Sam's dancing hips. He got his right hand in between them, and Sam tried his best to smash it between their knocking hips. Dean smoothed his left hand down Sam's back until he reached his ass and stilled it, and with his mittened right hand he fumbled around to their cocks.
"Yes," Sam moaned, and got it. He rolled them to their sides, and tangled their legs together, so they fit together tightly from crotch to knee. Dean stroked their dicks, and Sam held Dean's face and kissed him oh so sweetly and hotly. They stroked their tongues together at the same speed as Dean caressed their cocks. He could feel Sam shaking against him, and it was probably the hottest feeling he had felt in his life.
Sam came quickly, and it only took a few strokes for Dean to follow him. This time, he didn't let Sam roll away and drift in his own thoughts, but edged close to him so he could feel Sam all along his left side, while the fizzy, happy pleasure buzzed through him, and the room slowly spun.
He got up after a while to take off the sweaty tiger suit, and lay back down next to Sam. Sam turned his head and smiled at him, and tangled their fingers together. They were making it work.
Disclaimer: Some news items very slightly adapted from The Denver Post and BeeNews.com. I know nothing about Salisbury, Missouri beyond street names and the names of two fine eating establishments.