The humid night air clung to Jericho's skin like a second, unwanted layer as he hurried down the alley shortcut, the distant, tinny music from the main street fading with each step. He was trying to be quick, to avoid any chance encounters, but his own soft footfalls seemed deafeningly loud in the confined space. It was then that a new scent cut through the city's grime—something wild, musky, and distinctly feminine. A slow, deliberate clicking of heels on pavement echoed behind him, and he froze, ears twitching nervously beneath his mop of brown hair.

He turned slowly, his heart hammering against his ribs. Leaning against a damp brick wall, silhouetted by a flickering sodium-vapor light, was her. Jasmine. Her amber fur seemed to drink the sickly orange glow, making it shine like polished copper. A slow, predatory grin spread across her face as her golden eyes raked over him from head to toe, taking in his hunched shoulders and the way his tail was tucked firmly between his legs. "Lost, puppy?" she purred, her voice a low thrum that vibrated right through him. She pushed off the wall and began to circle him with an unnerving grace, her own bushy tail swishing lazily. "You look like you're about to jump out of your skin. It's adorable."

Jericho’s protest died in his throat, emerging as a feeble squeak. He could feel a hot blush creeping up his neck as she completed her circle, stopping directly in front of him, so close he could smell the faint, clean scent of her fur and something sharper, more primal beneath it. His body was betraying him utterly; a traitorous warmth pooled in his groin, and he prayed the loose fabric of his shorts hid the sudden, stiffening pressure there. Before he could form a coherent thought, Jasmine’s grin widened. She held his terrified gaze as she nonchalantly turned aside, hiked up her short skirt, and assumed a slight crouch. A hot, steady stream suddenly hissed against the brickwork, steam rising faintly in the cool air as she emptied her bladder with a shameless sigh of relief. The sharp, ammoniac scent filled the narrow alley, a blatant declaration of territory that left Jericho paralyzed with a confusing mix of horror and undeniable arousal.

He could only watch, his own cock straining painfully against his shorts as she finished with a soft shudder, standing wiping. “Consider that a warning, pup,” she murmured, stepping back into his space and grabbing his wrist, forcing his hand against the warmth. You’re next~”

Her grip tightened around his wrist, pulling him stumbling forward as she dragged him toward a rusted fire escape. "Come on, puppy, my place isn't far," she murmured, her voice dripping with a dark amusement that sent shivers down his spine. Jericho’s weak protests were lost in the humid air as she practically hauled him up the metal stairs, his clumsy footsteps a stark contrast to her fluid, predatory grace. The door to her apartment swung open with a creak, revealing a space that smelled overwhelmingly of her—musky, wild, and tinged with the faint, lingering scent of her earlier marking. Before he could even process the dimly lit room, she shoved him backward, and he landed with a soft thud on a thick, shaggy rug, the impact knocking the air from his lungs.

Jasmine was on him in an instant, her weight pinning his hips as she straddled him, her warm amber fur brushing against his bare thighs. Her paws—surprisingly soft yet firm—roamed over his chest, teasing his nipples until they peaked beneath his shirt, then sliding lower to trace the outline of his straining cock through the fabric of his shorts. "Look at you," she purred, leaning close enough that her breath ghosted over his ear. "Already so hard for me, and I've barely touched you." Jericho whimpered, his hands fluttering uselessly at his sides as she ignored his weak attempts to push her away, her touch both overwhelming and intoxicating. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his shorts, tugging them down just enough to expose the flushed head of his cock, and he gasped as the cool air hit his sensitive skin.

A low, throaty laugh escaped her as she watched him squirm, her eyes gleaming with possessive delight. "You really can't help yourself, can you?" she murmured, her tail swishing lazily behind her. Without warning, she leaned down, her tongue tracing a hot, wet path from the base of his shaft to the tip, and Jericho’s back arched off the rug, a broken moan tearing from his throat. His inexperience made him putty in her paws, every flick and suck drawing him deeper into a haze of submission, until all he could do was clutch at the rug beneath him and surrender to the relentless, animalistic pleasure she wielded so effortlessly.

Her mouth enveloped him completely, the wet heat of her tongue swirling around his throbbing length as she took him deep into her throat. Jericho cried out, his fingers tangling in the rug's coarse fibers as waves of pleasure radiated from where her lips met his flesh. She moved with practiced rhythm, one paw holding his hip firmly against the floor while the other fondled his balls with just enough pressure to make him whimper. Every suck, every lick felt like both torture and ecstasy—the scrape of her teeth a delicious threat that kept him teetering on the edge of surrender.

When she finally pulled back, a thin string of saliva connected her lips to his glistening cock, and she smirked at the desperate, pleading look in his eyes. "Such a good puppy," she purred, positioning herself above him, her own wetness dripping onto his stomach as she guided him inside her. The moment he entered her, Jericho gasped—her inner walls were impossibly hot and tight, clenching around him with possessive intensity. She began to move, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles that made him see stars, each thrust drawing him deeper into her slick, welcoming heat. Her amber fur brushed against his skin with every movement, and the musky scent of her arousal filled the air, mingling with the sharp, animalistic fragrance of her marking from earlier.

He could feel himself losing control, his body trembling beneath hers as she set a relentless pace, her claws digging lightly into his chest. "That's it," she breathed against his ear, her voice husky with pleasure. "Let go for me, puppy. I want to feel you come undone." And as her rhythm quickened, her own moans growing louder and more ragged, Jericho knew he was powerless to resist—every thrust, every gasp, every shudder of her body against his driving him closer to the edge of complete, inevitable submission.

Her body coiled around his with serpentine grace, her thighs locking behind his back as her arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly deeper into her slick heat. She crushed her mouth against his, her tongue plunging past his lips with a desperate, claiming urgency that stole what little breath remained in his lungs. Jericho whimpered into the kiss, his hands fluttering before settling weakly against her back, his fingers tangling in the thick fur of her tail as she dominated him completely—body and soul.

The pressure built between them like a storm, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around his throbbing length as she ground herself against him, each movement sending jolts of electric pleasure straight to his core. He could feel her heartbeat hammering against his chest, a wild, frantic rhythm that matched his own, and the musky scent of their coupling filled the air, thick and intoxicating. Jasmine broke the kiss only to gasp against his mouth, her amber eyes glazed with a feral light as she stared down at him, her hips never stilling, never giving him a moment’s respite. "You're mine," she breathed, the words a heated promise against his skin. "All mine."

And then he felt it—a sudden, hot wetness spreading across his abdomen, followed by the unmistakable sensation of her releasing a steady, urgent stream directly onto him. Her body shuddered violently above him, her control shattering as pleasure and relief merged into one overwhelming wave. The warm liquid soaked his skin and the rug beneath them, the scent sharp and primal, mingling with the sweat and sex already clinging to them both. Jericho cried out, his own orgasm ripped from him by the sheer intensity of her loss of control, his cock pulsing deep inside her as he spilled himself in helpless, shuddering waves.

She collapsed against him, her body trembling with aftershocks, her fur damp with sweat and her own release. For a long moment, neither of them moved, the only sound their ragged, breathing in the dim room. Jericho could feel the rapid beat of her heart against his chest, a frantic rhythm that slowly began to calm as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, her breath warm and soft against his skin. He was too overwhelmed to speak, too consumed by the raw intimacy of what had just happened—the way she had claimed him, used him, and then held him so close in the aftermath.

Eventually, she shifted, lifting her head to meet his dazed gaze. A slow, smug smile curled her lips as she traced a claw-tipped finger through the mess on his stomach, bringing it to her mouth to taste it with a pleased hum. "See?" she murmured, her voice husky and satisfied. "I told you you'd break." Jericho could only nod weakly, his body still thrumming with sensation, his mind too fuzzy to form a coherent thought beyond the overwhelming reality that he was, indeed, completely and utterly hers.

Her fingers continued tracing patterns through the sticky warmth on his stomach, a possessive little smile playing on her lips as she watched his chest rise and fall with ragged breaths. "You're such a mess, puppy," she purred, lifting her hand to let a thin strand of their mixed release stretch between her finger and his skin before breaking it with a soft snap. "My mess." She shifted, rising from his spent body with that fluid grace that always left him feeling clumsy and exposed, her tail flicking lazily as she stretched, the muscles in her back rippling beneath her amber fur.

"Come on," she said, her voice still thick with satisfaction as she tugged him to his feet. He swayed, unsteady, but her grip on his arm was firm, guiding him toward the window. "Let's get some air. This room reeks of you now." The fire escape groaned under their weight as she pushed the window open, the humid night air washing over them like a warm blanket. She climbed first, her movements surefooted and elegant, while he followed more hesitantly, the cold metal of the steps biting into his bare feet.

The rooftop was a chaotic garden of potted plants and forgotten furniture, bathed in the orange glow of the city lights below. Jasmine released his arm and wandered toward a large terracotta pot containing a sprawling fern, her tail twitching with interest. "This one's new," she murmured, more to herself than to him, before hiking her leg against the pot with a casualness that made Jericho's cheeks flush. A steady stream pattered against the soil, the sound almost musical in the quiet night, and the sharp, musky scent of her urine rose to mingle with the fragrance of damp earth and city smog. She sighed contentedly, shaking herself slightly before turning to face him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Much better. Now it smells like me."

She closed the distance between them in two strides, her paws settling on his hips as she backed him against the rough brick of the parapet. "Your turn," she whispered, her breath warm against his neck as she nuzzled into the space behind his ear. "I want to see you mark something for me." Her fingers found the waistband of his shorts—still tangled around his thighs—and tugged them down until his half-hard cock sprang free, sensitive and exposed to the cool night air. "Go on," she urged, her voice a low, commanding purr as she guided him toward the same pot she had just claimed. "Make it ours."

Jericho trembled, humiliation and arousal warring within him as he tried to comply, his body still shaky from their earlier coupling. The stream came hesitantly at first, then stronger, splashing against the damp soil and mingling with hers, the scent of it sharp and distinctly his own. Jasmine watched, her eyes dark with approval, one paw stroking his flank possessively. "Good boy," she murmured, her thumb brushing over the head of his cock, smearing a bead of precum that had gathered there. "Now everything here knows you belong to me."

The praise, so twisted and intimate, made his cock twitch traitorously against her thumb. Before he could process the shame of his own reaction, Jasmine was moving again, her paws sliding up his bare chest to push him firmly down onto a weathered wooden bench tucked between the ferns. The rough grain bit into the backs of his thighs. “Now,” she said, her voice dropping to a husky murmur as she loomed over him, her silhouette framed by the hazy city lights. “Let’s see how you handle a different view.”

She didn’t undress further, simply hooked her claws into the sides of her shorts and peeled them down her legs, kicking them aside. The moonlight caught the damp triangle of fur between her legs, glistening with her own wetness and the earlier evidence of their rooftop marking. She straddled his lap in one fluid motion, her warmth settling against his renewed hardness, but she didn’t take him inside. Instead, she leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest, and captured his mouth in a deep, dominating kiss. Her tongue plunged past his lips, tasting of night air and salt and *her*, while one paw wrapped around his throat, not squeezing, just holding—a reminder of her control.

Jericho moaned into her mouth, his hands finding the curve of her hips, his claws digging into the soft fur as she began to grind against him. The friction was exquisite torture, the sensitive head of his cock rubbing against her slick, swollen folds with each rolling motion of her hips. She broke the kiss to pant against his cheek, her breath coming in hot gusts. “You want it, puppy?” she taunted, lifting herself just enough to position him at her entrance. He

Jasmine X Jericho