Wolf Wing's Dinner

Story and Illustrations by Wolfie

Wolf Wing the eagle was a hunter of the highest caliber, and his name was his fame. All on the ground and in the sky was his prey, his conquests, both for food and for his baser needs. A wolf in the sky was Wolf Wing.

And it was a simple twist of fate that he chanced to look down and spy a wolf walking along a dusty, dirt road below. The wolf, slightly stocky and grey furred and clothed only in denim jeans, never looked up at him as he rode the winds high above in the clear sky.

"Dinner," Wolf Wing whispered to himself, sizing up the proposed meal. The wolf was not too large, more average sized. He'd be a chore to lift after killing, but it wouldn't be impossible. Even leaving him in a nearby tree for a short time to feed on over a week or two would be possible, Wolf Wing thought.

He circled. An attack out of the mid-afternoon sun from behind. Perfect. A stoop from on high, talons into the back between the shoulderblades, second set driven into the neck to break it. The wolf wouldn't know what hit him, Wolf Wing decided, setting up his attack run.

An eagle, DarkWolfie thought, watching the shadow on the ground circling. His stomach growled. He'd not eaten in four days, and even though eagles were tough to eat, and hard to catch, he wasn't about to ignore an opportunity.

But why was the eagle circling? Was it preparing to try to catch him? DarkWolfie had no intention of being someone else's feast. He looked to the shadow more closely. It had stopped circling. Its shadow was moving towards his own.

DarkWolfie reached into his pocket and searched for something he didn't think he'd need away from his river. "This'll work," he whispered to himself.

He tensed a little inwardly, not wanting to give away that he knew something was coming. He just had to wait for the right time to strike. "Like a birdsnake, I'll be"

The rustle of wind through feathers grew loud.

Wolf Wing put his head down and dove, picking up speed with each racing heartbeat. Every feather on him rippled in the wind. The wolf's back was to him, and he was oblivious of the fatal danger approaching, talons open and ready to tear through fur and flesh.

He was almost on top of the wolf when the wolf spun. The big paws went up, and thin webbing crossed Wolf Wing's vision. A net!

Wolf Wing pulled up sharply, but it was too late. The net entangled his wings, pulling them close to his body. His talons caught the webbing and tangled as well. His beak slipped through a loop that caught his head. All his lift disappeared as he was yanked to the ground. He landed on his back with a hard thump, cursing and fighting the net.

"Get this off of me! What are you doing," he squawked indignantly. "Release me!"

DarkWolfie twisted the end of the net in his paws. "Sorry," he said. "I can't do that. You see, I've not eaten in a while, and you, my friend, have an appointment with my spit!"

The eagle squawked in horror. "Let me go this instant!" He kicked at the net, but DarkWolfie had been efficient with the webbing, and the eagle could barely move his feet.

DarkWolfie checked his binding and looked to the eagle's eyes one more time before standing and slinging the eagle head down over his shoulder. The eagle's protests and howls did not abate.

He snuffed a light laugh. The wolf had never eaten something that spoke back before. This would be a new experience for him, he knew as he walked to his campsite.

Wolf Wing's voice had grown hoarse with his screaming. His demands were falling on deaf ears. He was beginning to feel the flutterings of fear building up in his stomach.

He swallowed. "Please, let me go."

"Sorry, my friend. Hunger has a more demanding voice."

And with that, Wolf Wing was unceremoniously hauled up and placed on a table. To his right lay a nasty looking meat cleaver. And to his left and equally nasty looking, four foot long spit. A few flaps away, a small fire burned smokily.

"By the winds, you're going to kill me and spit me? You monster, let me go!"

The wolf looked into his eyes. "Actually, killing prey tends to change the flavor before it's put over the fire. I was just going to spit you , pluck you, and let the fire finish you off."

"Bastard dog. Touch me and you'll lose a paw!"

DarkWolfie ignored the eagle's threat. Bound in webbing and barely able to move his wings, the eagle's bluffs were toothless. He picked up the four-foot spit and looked at the grooves along its length, there to disrupt suction and keep it's entry smooth. Then he inspected the point. It was needle sharp and thickened to its normal finger's width after a pawlength.

He swallowed. He'd never spitted a bird that could plead with him. Chickens from the market and wild turkeys and partridge never begged when he put them over the fire. Why was he having questions now, he wondered.

His stomach growled. The ache of four days empty hardened him some.

He set the spit-point near the eagle's lower abdomen and set a paw on the feathered, heaving chest. The eagle's heart was thrumming rapidly. "You might feel some momentary discomfort."

Wolf Wing's heart skipped a beat as the point touched through his feathers into his flesh. A hot sharpness pressed into him until with a shudder and the slight kisslike sound of flesh being penetrated the spit went into him.

He gasped from his soul. "Please, s...stop..."

The wolf didn't listen. The spit slid up smoothly into his body, cramping his insides a little. Moments of resistance came as barriers within were met by the point, followed by a pinprick of heat followed by a relaxation of sorts as his flesh surrendered to the tip. Even as a thick wall of flesh under his ribs gave way to the point, making his lungs jump inside him, he felt only the heat of the initial penetration and the shortening of his breath.

How far was it in, he wondered, feeling his throat constrict, knowing his end was near. He looked down his body.

The wolf was pausing, and looking into his eyes.

Why was he looking into his eyes?

DarkWolfie stopped the spit. It was pulsing lightly in his paw, the tip against the eagle's heart. He could still live, he knew. The damage the spit had done up to now could be healed. Beyond, in the heart and through the heart, the eagle was doomed.

The eagle's eyes were pleading.

His stomach growled, overriding the fear of the consequences of his act. So hungry!

He closed his eyes and drove his paw forward. With his paw on the eagle's chest, he felt the heave of his body as the spit entered the strong heart, then out the other side. A gasping squawk came as he continued the thrust until there was no more resistance.

He opened his eyes.

Wolf Wing's wings fluttered. He knew what had happened, even through the confusion and fear of what was happening to him. He looked down a little and to the right. The spit's point had broken through his flesh into the outside. A drop of dark blood, his blood, smeared the length and dripped a single drop. He was dead.

But he could feel his heart still pumping. He wasn't dead yet. He'd speared the hearts of his prey many times with his long, hooked talons, and they all seemed to die quite immediately.

Why was he still alive? He looked to the wolf.

The wolf seemed to know his question. "The point has gone in straight, and the spit is plugging the wounds in you. You can't bleed out."

"Please don't let the fire take me," Wolf Wing gasped, his breathing labored. "Don't burn me."

"You are already dead, friend eagle."

"Please, don't burn me."

DarkWolfie swallowed at the plea. He tried to keep his smiling, in-control demeanor, but inside he was shaking. The eagle was doomed, dinner. He'd never live through this; it was already done.

He looked down to where the spit's point had entered. Blood was dribbling from the wound and he licked it.

As his tongue pressed against the feathers, the eagle shivered. He licked again, and got the same response. But why? He looked over the eagle's lower abdomen. A slight pink tender of flesh had grown slightly until it was peeking from the feathers. He wasn't sure, though he'd been calling the eagle he, but the bulge there confirmed the eagle was male. DarkWolfie licked the pinkness and a bulge formed under his tongue, and a salty wetness began to moisten the tip.

He'd not had a male of any sort for some time...or any company for that matter. Mayhaps, he thought, he could bring the eagle one last taste of pleasure.

Wolf Wing lay back, not wanting but accepting his fate. He breathed slowly in and out, feeling his wounded heart struggle against the invading metal.

A shiver ran through him as the wolf's tongue touched him where the spit had been buried. Then another. What was he doing?

He looked down. The wolf's tongue had found his cloaca and had elicited his protuberance from the folds of sensitive skin. The roughness of the tongue on him drew all his fear from him. The twitching pain of the spit impaling him was being overridden by a pleasurable touch.

Wolf Wing wanted to know why, but the growing arousal took the question. He felt a twinge inside his chest...was his death going to take his last try for pleasure? No...if he was to die, he wanted to feel one last touch of pleasure.

"I'm dying."

The wolf stopped his licking, but let his fingers continue to caress the eagle. "Yes...I'm sorry."

"Now...I can feel myself slipping. Let me die, pleasure fresh in me."

The wolf seemed to understand. "You'll be in great pain."

Wolf Wing nodded. "Better than to slip away with nothing."

DarkWolfie understood the eagle's request. He wanted to die in orgasm. That he was the eagle's killer made no difference now. If he could bring the eagle to an all ending rapture, he would. It was the least he could do for his dinner.

Keeping the fingers of one paw stroking that little pinkness (how do they make eaglets with those things?) he took the cleaver in his other paw and opened up the eagle's belly with a quick, clean swipe. The eagle hissed and squirmed, but relaxed quickly after.

Lowering his head to the wound, DarkWolfie wriggled the tip of his muzzle inside. He took a length of intestine into his mouth. He considered biting it, but instead swallowed it, as the crushing of flesh would be too much for the eagle. The feeling of increasing void would be enough. Soon, Darkwolfie had gulped enough entrails that his muzzle could move into the eagle's body without impedence.

Wolf Wing felt the hot line of the blade going across his belly. He tightened his beak as the wolf opened him up a little and pulled some of him out. Interestingly, his breathing became easier as the wolf ate from him. Thankfully, the wolf did not chew, but simply swallowed, tugging his insides through the slit and into him. And still, those fingers played with him, pausing only a moment as he muzzle filled the empty space inside of him. He could feel the warm breath of the wolf, rolling against parts of him that never felt the chill of raw air. He shivered. Great pieces of him were beginning to grow profoundly numb...his end was racing to him quickly.

Down at his hot low underbelly, the wolf's paw kept working him. He could feel his release building inside despite a tingling working down his spine, driving to intercept whatever pleasure he could find before he succumbed.

DarkWolfie's muzzle worked deeper into the eagle's body, slipping through void and pressing aside the stretched esophagus until he nosed through the diaphragm and into the chest. The scent of blood replaced the smell of entrails. He let his tongue probe out until it pressed against a pulsing, hot mass. He was ready. His paw continued stroking and caressing and massaging the eagle's pink, bulging sex. At his tongue, the heartbeat raced. Around his muzzle, the heaving lungs of the eagle pressed against him in quivering uneven waves. As he moved a little more forward and took the eagle's heart into his mouth, his ears heard the eagle cry out. A warm wetness spurted across the knuckles of his paw.

He bit down.

Hot blood flowed into DarkWolfie's mouth. The once thumping organ heaved and leapt like a small animal trying to escape a grasping paw. His teeth pierced deep into the tough muscle and a squirt of the eagle's rich blood poured down his throat.

He reared back, severing lifelong connections, breaking a lifelong cycle.

Wolf Wing came hard, arching against the table without and around the spit within. Another spurt came and he squawked. In his chest, a burning grip clamped around his very core then dragged him hard.

All pain fled from a driving howl of numbness so intense that he didn't feel he was even there. He looked to the wolf.

The wolf stood before him, his mouth stained red, a hunk of meat in his jaws dripping and quivering. Around him, the light began to fuzz. His hard outline grew indistinct.

Wolf Wing's head eased back and he looked up to the sky, a feeling of pleasureable release filling him to the brim even despite the numbness that had encircled his head. His face all the way to the tip of his beak seemed to dissolve.

The wind was blowing.

DarkWolfie swallowed and licked the blood from his muzzle. He looked down to the eagle, unmoving. Still.

He put a paw against the feathered belly. The empty shape gave easily under his paw. He felt his own stomach. It was no longer growling.

Leaning over the table, he looked into the now closed and relaxed face. With a muttered thank you, he kissed the noble beak.

DarkWolfie decided he'd not feed again today.

Return to a less dark place.

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