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He couldn't be obsessed.
Ever since the trial, something had changed. Wile E. Coyote (Starvus Needus Foodus) didn't know what had changed exactly. It was hard to put his finger on it. That gnawing feeling in his stomach never left him. Why would it?
For as long as he knew, the goal was to satiate his hunger. He was a coyote, a predator, and all predators hunted. And he aimed to get a good prize. The malnourished coyote craved to satiate it. Despite everything, that feeling was so different. It made his stomach feel lighter. His head was lighter. And most importantly, the thought of Roadrunner changed.
There was no way to describe it. With every innocent head tilt, every step, that fucking bird was always in his mind. The Roadrunner (Insanus Fastus) consumed his every want, every thought, everything his life had built up to.
It was his life's purpose to catch the Roadrunner, anyway.
No. Obsessed wasn't the word. For as long as he knew it, he knew he had to catch that roadrunner. He had to catch him by any means nessecary. He had to. He needed to.
At one point in his life, perhaps when he was a pup or a fresh adult in 1949, he would not have hesitated to have ended the Roadrunner's life if he had ever caught him. But things changed. Decades had passed. People changed and as time passed, new things appeared between them.
And now, three quarters of a century and a bit later? The Roadrunner considered Wile to be his friend.
Things were much more in jest. The chases never stopped. For once, he highly doubted that he wanted this to end. It had gone on so long that, admittedly, he didn't want it to stop. Maybe he wouldn't ever catch the Roadrunner. Maybe his life would be spent trying to forever catch him.
Maybe it was his fate. And that, to his surprise, he was content with. As long as he and the Roadrunner could do this until they were faded, he would be happy. His Roadrunner and him.
No. It wasn't obsession. Roadrunner was just a friend.
Today was as any other. And as the sun rose in the desert, the Coyote was already halfway in setting up his plan.
It was mostly comprised of everything he made himself, some glue to keep the bird in place and more bird seed than usual to lure him in.
For once, none of it was ACME brand, at least not ACME Toon brand equipment. No, it was made for humans, items he found himself in an abandoned shed within an abandoned garden and household. It was the best he could do as he was aware he would be blacklisted from ACME for as long as he lived after the trial.
After so many years and attempts so countless that it'd be hard to remember, Wile E was deeply aware this was likely not going to work. It was so stupid, so absurd and so simple. It wouldn't work; it would probably backfire and he'd be injured, and the Roadrunner would likely come to check on him before running off.
He couldn't be that obsessed.
Setting up the trap was easy. Some distance away, about maybe 50 metres, the spring was set behind a rock with a control to set it off. On the road, there was a plate of bird seed. He was going to take a small page from what he had gotten from the Roadrunner when he had left the desert. The glue was also to keep Roadrunner in place, and a large sign labelled 'FREE BIRD SEED' was placed within the food he was to offer him.
The thought of the Roadrunner standing in the glue that was more than enough to set the mood for the day.
For a few hours, he waited. Roadrunner would come looking soon enough. He'd zoom on these roads, being nothing more than a big, blue blur against the grey, orange and yellow of this landscape.
Right on cue, from behind the rock and sat on top of his big spring, Wile E. heard him. Even from afar, he knew he could hear him. And there was a screech like car wheels, and then a silence. Nehind the rock, he could see that the Roadrunner lifted his talons in and out.
Silence.
There was a clear moment that he knew the Roadrunner was… staring. Looking around.. He knew he was checking. Checking for them, for the reason Wile E. went to sue and left the desert for Albuquerque. His Roadrunner didn't want it to be ACME. He knew Roadrunner wanted it to be him and only him who laid out those traps.
And after a moment, the sound of the beak pecking. He was eating. And Wile E. took that opportunity, controller in hand as he pressed the button.
The moment he pressed it, the spring did its work, flinging him in the direction of the moment he set it off. He was flying through the air, and as quickly as he was in the air, he was also descending. He knew this was absolutely going to fail. He knew it was, and he put his hands out to prepare for impact.
Instead of the warm ground that would make an oddly malnourished cartoon coyote shaped hole, his hands managed to grip onto something soft. Something very soft and very feathery.
He didn't even process that there was a very stunned 'beep' made as his claws sank into the softness of whatever he had grabbed.
Then, and only then, did he realise that he, Wile Ethelbert Coyote, had managed to even lay his hands on that Roadrunner. Those feathers he had longed to grip tightly, that neck he wanted to wrangle, and here he was, gripping onto the blue blur like both their lives depended on it as they were hurtled across the ground of the desert.
Hurling across the ground by tumbleweeds before promptly bouncing in the air once and then falling, both prey and predator struck the ground hard. Fur and feathers flew all over, the clouds of dust smothering both of them that neither could see what had just happened. But when the dust settled, the Coyote stopped.
He had caught the Roadrunner. He didn't think he would ever achieve such a thing after so many years.
By any and all accounts, he had won. The chase was over.
It was harder to believe it than he thought it'd be. He couldn't have. But the more he realised just what position he was in, the more this heavy feeling sank into his stomach.
The roadrunner was underneath him. Not just underneath him, but Wile E's claws had not just sunken into sky blue feathers. No. They were digging directly into what he could assume would be the breast fillet (noodle, he recalled), and where the Coyote's claws had sunk in, the feathers were tainted into a rather dark purple. The two had also tumbled, the Roadrunner, for once, took the brunt of the damage, looking just as scraggly and ruined as the coyote usually would, as if ACME blew him up. His right wing, a deep indigo or violet like his head, well, it looked slightly crumpled.
This had to be a dream. Why would fate bless him like this? After all this time? And why now, when that hunger was no longer the same?
By some feat, by some miracle, he made it to the top of a metaphorical mountain. It was euphoric. His body filled with this shock, this amazement and surprise. But he couldn't. He couldn't end the Roadrunner's life. Not like this. Not here. Not now.
The Roadrunner, face as innocent looking as a golden retriver, tilted his head, and pulled out a sign.
[WHAT'S THE RUSH?]
Using makeshift fingers, he flipped the sign.
[YOU CAUGHT ME]
The Coyote's grip loosened greatly. He had hunted and caught Roadrunner. But they were more than prey and predator now. And Wile E. Coyote was not obsessed. Wile E's right hand let go, and he fished out a sign.
The sign said nothing. No number of signs could describe this, anyway; it was limited.
What could he say? What more could he say? That he wished that this could go on forever? That he didn't want this to end? That he would love to chase the Roadrunner? That he would be the only coyote in the world who would give the Roadrunner the attention he always wanted?
Shit.
The Roadrunner was happily staring at him. That smile on his face that never left, that look of innocence. He looked so proud, so joyful that he even stuck his tongue out twice.
"Beep beep!"
Eat me.
Confusion. The coyote's face felt warm and he stiffened. The sign in his hand, and he decided to flip it.
[What?]
The Roadrunner beeped twice.
Eat me.
The Roadrunner's tailfeathers flicked left and right before stopping.
He knew what Roadrunner meant. Roadrunner was prey. Roadrunner was prey and yet… and yet he wasn't sure how.
How would he even savour him? Would Roadrunner even want to be eaten? Was this fear finally striking the bird? If so why was he scared now?!
He got the chase he was longing for.
In a respect, he should be able to savour it.
But he didn't want the chase to end. No. Killing his Roadrunner was too much for him.
Wile E. Coyote decided to take a different route. He would eat the Roadrunner, no doubt. He would eat, indeed, but the manner would not be one he thought he'd take until five seconds ago.
Without hesitancy, Wile E. put his sign away, his Roadrunner following after, and his other hand left the Roadrunner's fillet before wrapping his hands around that beautifully long neck of his. He ended up squeezing tightly, so tightly. The Roadrunner could handle it. They were both toons, anyway.
Out here in the desert, where very few cars dared to come by, it was them and only them.
That was when Wile E. (Confusus Doggus) also realised the position of his legs. He was looming over the Roadrunner (Willingus Captivus), hands around his neck and his legs effectively trapping the bird so he couldn't escape, as well as the purple marks from where his claws dug into flesh.
The Roadrunner didn't dare to move away from the coyote. No. The Roadrunner looked as happy as ever, tail flicking left and right for a moment before stopping, small cooing noises emerging from the bird. There wasn't much in changing the roadrunner's expression.
Then the Coyote moved. His hands slowly went down the Roadrunner's neck, left hand quicker to hold onto the body as he adjusted himself, his head going lower and lower now. Wile E. Coyote knew that birds were rather different than mammals. First off, they had feathered wings and legs so thin he knew plenty of other coyotes would have snapped them like twigs with talons (that he had no clue why were such a feature on him).
And his other hand let go of the Roadrunner's neck. The blue bird didn't particularly struggle to breathe. By any sense of logic, he was more than fine to do so. But for once, the coyote lowered his head, left arm lifting and adjusting the Roadrunner carefully, to which the Roadrunner seemed to happily oblige to, mainly ensuring his legs were tucked in. Wile E, more than assured that his Roadrunner was comfortable, licked his lips and he finally brought his face lower down.
It was easier to find it than he thought, mainly as the tail wasn't hiding it.
Birds were different from mammals, Wile E. remembered when he first looked into the species. It was mainly to see how to effectively use every prime cut needed, what part was most helpful. He had taken note of every cut there was, every flavour there would be. He could even note that where he was headed was likely to taste just as heavenly. That sweet little area was amazingly well hidden. Using his right hand, he was rather careful when he adjusted some of the feathers, revealing that cute hole.
No. Not obsessed.
Was hole the right word? It was a cloaca. Cloacas were rather different to a mammal's anus, but oh, he was happy, his fingers very gentle to massage the area around it.
He could see how the Roadrunner's tailfeathers flicked left and right again, on top of a cooing noise he had heard maybe once in his life. Still holding on, Wile E. licked his lips, and was very careful, fingers still massaging the area around that cloaca.
The coyote looked up for a moment, and the Roadrunner had his head lifted up, and his good wing had a sign out.
[Eat me]
The coyote now knew what he had meant. He let go for a moment, putting one finger up.
Wait a minute.
The Roadrunner obeyed that motion, head tilting curious as he was lifted up; not enough to stand up, but enough for the Roadrunner to watch the coyote get on his back, the scruffy brown and beige fur of his stomach facing to the sky, all before he turned the roadrunner around so his tailfeathers was in the Coyote's direction.
Wile E. was going to be comfortable, and comfortable he was, going, this time grabbing Roadrunner's legs and gently pulling him so that cloaca was settled on his mouth and snout resting up against the tailfeathers.
Wile E. had to be careful, hands wandering to the cloaca as clawed fingers came back. He was doing what he previously did, primarily massaging the area. Chances are it'd be a bit too small, and he didn't want to hurt his Roadrunner.
The tip of his tongue gently prodded as the fingers did their work, extracting a long, almost cooing 'beep' that his ears picked up on. Already, with the coyote's tongue simply pressed against him, he could distinctly catch the taste of pork on his tongue. Porkchop. Roadrunners, on average, were more delicacies. Hunting these birds was a massive feat and every cut was preserved, primed, and each muscle was divvied up to dine for each seperate occasion. They were stored in the cold for whatever was needed.
It wasn't his first time tasting a roadrunner, and this wouldn't be the last time either. No. He was going to savour this now that the taste of porkchop was so clear on his tongue. It was fresh. It was delicious.
And he wanted more of it.
There wasn't much a shred of hesitancy, his tongue lapping at his Roadrunner's cloaca, aiming to get the tip of it in. Oh good lord, that cloaca was tighter than a fingertrap that he was certain if his fingers were inside, they would certainly be trapped and he would have to get financial compensation for putting his fingers where they typically shouldn't belong. He was so tight, and yet the taste of porkchop was so strong. And right now, Wile E. was having the time of his life. The taste, the feeling, oh, it was intoxicating, his tongue occasionally dipping out to lick around the rim. His handed ended up trailing up to the thighs, specifically, and oh, how he sank his claws in.
Roadrunner was much skinnier than he expected, Wile E. noted to himself. Though he was aware the Roadrunner was lean, the feathers certainly made him look a bit bigger than he thought. Poofy. Made him look slightly bigger than he actually was.
Much like how Roadrunner tasted on the inside, the coyote knew that he would taste like pork chop there too, and his claws were in his flesh. Only now was he not bleeding, and the Roadrunner's tailfeathers flicked left and right again as he cooed, forgetting that the tailfeathers were right up against Wile E's nose.
And much to Wile E's dismay, he had to stop once he caught himself on the verge of a sneeze, bringing a very disapointed and annoyed "Beep". One hand let go and he grabbed a sign, pulling it out.
[IT'S A LIMITED NUMBER OF SIGNS]
Wrong one. He swore there was a sign for this! He put it away, gripping onto Roadrunner, and he snaped his fingers, pointing to the tailfeathers. He couldn't see the Roadrunner, but he knew the Roadrunner was at least listening enough as he moved his tailfeathers to his right, enough to not annoy the Coyote's nose anyway.
Ah. At last. He could eat the Roadrunner out, his tongue pressing inside the cloaca to take in the pork chop taste.
This time, he was much more aggressive. What started as the tip of the tongue inside the Roadrunner was now half of his tongue, sinking in deeper and deeper. Pork chop and some hints of chop suey once his tongue went further up. Oh, how amazing it felt, knowing that the Roadrunner's insides were slowly stretching more and more as his tongue got inside. One stroke there, and another stroke further down, and the Roadrunner's tailfeather flicked and flicked. So many beeps and meeps mixed in with cooing and tail flicking.
His Roadrunner was clearly enjoying it enough that it brought a small chuckle out of the coyote.
And that made the Roadrunner completely stop.
"BEEP BEEP!"
Hold it.
Immediately, Wile E. stopped, pulling away and quickly wiped his mouth, aiming to look at him.
The Roadrunner had such a bewildered, stunned, shocked and yet fascinated look. He wasn't smiling, and his eyes were very wide. And the Roadrunner had a sign out.
[SINCE WHEN COULD YOU SPEAK]
Oh. That. He forgot that his Roadrunner would have never heard him speak, so even as much of a chuckle was unusual.
"Since when could I speak?" He had a very notably sophisticated voice, more transantlantic, and the coyote smiled. "Well, since always, my feathered friend. It was simply that I wouldn't speak until I caught you." That was a long story he didn't want to go through.
Somehow, that made the Roadrunner think for a moment, his face seeming to sift through both shock, horror, amusement, dissapointment before his eyes became literal hearts, and he flipped the sign.
[KISS ME]
And he flipped it again.
[THEN ?%@! ME]
For a moment, the Coyote was just laying there, very stumped by this statement that he grabbed a sign.
[WHAT?]
As a response, the Roadrunner remained where he was, but craned his neck a bit further than he could, pointed at the sign and then tapped it using his injured wing.
"Beep beep!"
Fuck me.
And the coyote froze when he took notice of the Roadrunner. He was looking downward.
In his mind, this was probably an escelation. And he put up a sign.
{LET ME EAT YOU FIRST]
Despite everything, the Roadrunner was more than happy with that, at least before he leaned in and let out a 'beep beep'. He was happy where he was, thankfully, and he made a motion for the Coyote to come forward. He let himself until he was sitting upright. And his Roadrunner was very quick to nuzzle him with a quick peck that was very gentle before he nudged Wile E. back down.
Now that Wile E. was laying again, he had realised then and only then that in his lower regions, where someone's privates was not usually there, and the coyote looked down. Well. He had to admit, it was probably his first time feeling this specifically.
Lust was not a new concept to toons. It had probably been around as long as they existed. He was also vaguely aware of some other toons who relied much more on their own sex appeal more than their comedy. He could think of a few of the earliest toons out there, at least those before his time.
He was immediately snapped out of it when the Roadrunner pressed his cloaca against his lower mouth, which was a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one. It was so warm and wet, he realised. He hadn't noticed it before, probably to savour the taste of him, but it was a texture he couldn't let go of. Roadrunner looked so innocent then, as if he wasn't asking this coyote to eat him out and have sex with him. But Wile had to admit, he was just as guilty. He wanted to eat Roadrunner, and he took the chance he had. Maybe not literally, but he got to taste the Roadrunner.
He didn't think of himself to be obsessed, but the more he sat with the fact he willingly decided to eat Roadrunner the way he did, the more he felt his own cock push out.
Okay. Maybe he was obsessed. Especially as his tongue dug into the cloaca, taking in his scent, his taste, his everything.
And in that instance, it reminded him of a song he had once heard in passing on the radio in the 80s. It reminded him of everything now. One hand was on Roadrunner's thigh, and the other was simply sifting through the feathers.
He wasn't aggressive anymore. And he felt the Roadrunner's tailfeathers flick back and forth. The coos were even louder, mixed with the meeps and beeps. In its own way, with each flick of his tongue inside, the Roadrunner was happy, and he seemed to entirely melt into his touch.
And the Coyote groaned, trying to buck his hips up. He needed it. He needed it more than anything. He needed the release. Wile E. was hungry and he needed to satiate it. Plus, he had used his tongue enough on this bird. Maybe he would be ready for him.
On his own volition, Wile. E pulled away, licking his lips before getting up. It was his Roadrunner who protested again, though this time he sounded less upset. His Roadrunner.
This time, the Roadrunner had his turn, getting up and using his talons, foot on top of his ribcage. Ah.
The Coyote wasn't going to escape this. And this time, and Roadrunner leaned in. That smile. That smile seemed so unchanging as he now stood over him, eyes filled with such adoration his irises were heart shaped. And much like Wile E. had done, the Roadrunner adjusted himself, just enough so his cloaca was settled on the coyote's tip.
The coyote's face was wide with a mix of emotions. Surprise, excitement and hunger. Mostly hunger. He just wanted his Roadrunner to just sink down onto him.
Not even realising he even whimpered, his claws reached out. Even if they had the mercy of brushing against the bird's wings, he would take it. He would take it without hesitation.
The Roadrunne took one of his ears and simply bit down as the coyote finally got what he wanted.
That tight, warm feeling of that cloaca. It was clear he was not designed for this sort of thing. Both he and the bird knew that. Roadrunner wasn't that dumb, and Wile E. had literally taken the time to learn about roadrunners. But he knew that both of them were defying something. Maybe not nature, but certainly breaking and defying rules that they probably shouldn't have broken.
It really was like trying to shove one's finger into somthing they shouldn't, except far more sensitive, and the coyote could not stop.
His cloaca felt amazing. He wanted more, but he could only wait until the Roadrunner was entirely on him. Weirdly, for the roadrunner, it was like he was merely sitting. Nothing more and nothing less. Somehow, that gave the coyote more incentive tot thrust. And thrust he tried to before his Roadrunner gently tugged at his ear.
It didn't hurt, but a rather sudden strike of pleasure struck him, translating into the base of his cock suddenly feeling so… tight, around the roadrunner.
He ended up pulling out a sign with one hand, holding back as many whimpering noises, pointing with his free hand.
[????]
The Roadrunner, still happily perched on his cock, returned with the same energy, repeating similar motions.
[YOUR VOICE]
He flipped it again.
[WANT TO HEAR IT]
He tugged at his ear again. The coyote whimpered softly.
"Is that why-?" A small 'ah' emerged because the Roadrunner made a weird mimic of someone trying to ride him. Unfortunately, it worked very well, making Wile E. instinctively try and pull out until he was only at the very tip, all before sinking into him.
The roadrunner let go of his ear then and then, letting him thrust in and out of him, but it was clear that bird had plans.
Settling his head into the junction between the scraggly coyote's neck and shoulder, the indigo headed bird made sure that there was nibbling and soft pecking.
Oh. Oh no. It made Wile E. moan aloud, and he felt how his thrusting became faster.
The Roadrunner liked it.
Wile E. continued thrusting.
The noises between both of them, Wile E's whimpers and Roadrunner's coos, ended up mixed together. After a while, the coyote's thrusts became much more crazed and animalistic. Roadrunner's cooing was louder, and his tail flicked again and again. Wile E's knot felt bigger and bigger. Roadrunner's claca felt tighter and tighter. Wile's head was licking against his Beep Beep's neck. His Beep Beep kept nuzzling into him.
And eventually, it all came ahead.
A small, strained whimper, and Wile E. was completely undone, his cock spurting out inside his Beep Beep. In return, his Beep Beep's feathers puffed up, and oh, how happy he looked there and then, both panting heavily. Wile E, unfortunately, was more visibly spent than Beep Beep. How euphoric it all was that it managed to lull him to sleep.
It had to have been sunset by the time the coyote finally opened his eyes, but he knew he wasn't where he and the Roadrunner were originally. No. Instead, he was completely surrounded by what seemed to be grass, some roots, sticks and a few feathers and some snake skins. It was a surprisingly comfortable place, and it was big enough to fit him in it. It was also very warm on his right, to which, with him having only just woken up, hadn't even process that it was Beep Beep.
"Beep beep?"
Are you alright?
Wile E. wasn't sure how he would respond. It took a second before he pulled up a sign.
The sign was unintelligable. He tried to flip it, but ended up dropping it into the nest. Thankfully, what he aimed to say was facing up.
[YES]
He yawned rather suddenly, and he rubbed his head, only stopping and suddenly turning his head.
Roadrunner?? He was in the bird's nest??
His crotch felt very sore, and he quickly grabbed a mirror from where he had his signs.
It was safe to say he was a mess. His neck and shoulder was essentially smothered in lipstick marks (which was odd, birds didn't have lips). His fur was just about everywhere, as if he had been violently electrocuted, and to make matters slightly worse, he could feel how sticky his thighs were.
Beep Beep, on the other hand, looked relatively unharmed, with the only evidence on him that indicated anything happened being that his feathers were puffed up and the small smother of cum on his own thighs, though not as significant as Wile's situation. Even worse, he was settling down to sleep.
He couldn't believe it. He had managed to catch the Roadrunner. Not just catch him, but he got his wish of eating him, and in the process of fufilling his own wish, by defenition, mated him.
What did this make them?
He didn't think it'd be safe to qualify this as a mere friendship, but he doubt neither of them would give up the routines of old.
But alas, a part of him was so tired that even after waking up, he had to sleep again.
And with the warmth of Beep Beep, that was a very quick affair.
He'd try and figure this out soon.
Not today.
But maybe tomorrow.