Claws

Sports

Sexual assault TW in this chapter.
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APOLLO

Not for the first time in my life, I woke up feeling like shit. My entire body ached with an intense soreness, as if I had somehow strained every muscle at once. One of my ankles throbbed horribly, almost like I had snapped it in half.
Even worse, however, was Luka's unreadable gaze from a green armchair in the corner of the room. Was he angry? Sad? Disappointed? From his hard stare, he at least knew I was awake.
"Apollo." My name slid off his tongue stiffly.
I decided to play it safe. "Master....?"
"Do you regret your decision to run away?" He continued.
Yes? No? Maybe?
I stayed silent. My master's expression soured at my lack of an answer.
"Let's see," he began, "you broke your ankle, killed someone, and earned a month in a bird collar."
My eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Luka's tone was growing hot with anger.
I told a human lie. "I'm sorry."
"You," Luka spat with fervor, "are a horrible liar."
Wordlessly, Luka stalked over to the bedside. In his hand was my collar. I braced myself for what a I knew was coming. The collar was laced extra tight around my throat and the remote's dial cranked.
"Apollo," he began, "you need to beg for forgiveness." Somewhere in Luka's eyes, I saw guilt.
Memories of Samuel permeated my mind. Rough hands yanking sweaty locs of hair, a rough, dirty boot biting into my back, and growling murmurs in my ear.
     A low growl left my throat. My master's eyebrows rose in a look that said: "is he serious?"
     All it took to send painful bolts of electricity surging through my body was a tiny movement of the human's index finger.
After all of my yelping and whimpering was over over, Luka said, "I'm not going to give you another chance."
"Please forgive me, Master." I whined disingenuously.
Luka's index finger hovered over the red button.
"Please Master," I begged more readily, "please don't hurt me."
"I'm sorry, Apollo, you've earned this." He soughed with remorse.
Again the button was pressed, and I shrieked in agony. Electricity surged through every part of my already-aching body.
"Please stop!" I cried out in my own tongue.
Luka pressed the button again, and again, and again, until I was whining lowly even after the current had stopped. He remained quiet through the course of the torture, wincing slightly with every press of the button and every yelp.
After what seemed like ages of torment, Luka broke his silence.
     "Never," My master finally spoke, "Never make me do that to you ever again."
All I could do was whine incoherently. As if plagued with guilt over his actions, he crawled into bed next to me and snuggled into my chest, letting go of a huge breath as he did so.
"You scared the shit out of me, Apollo. I thought you were going to get captured again." The human whispered meekly, "And if I have to keep a bird collar on you for a month straight to make sure that you never risk your lift like that again, I will."
     I was getting sicker by the minute of humans' all-knowing attitude.
     As hours passed, I realized that even through bedrest, torture, and a broken ankle, I was still in rut. Since our secret had gotten out, Luka had finally given me permission to howl, and I found myself making the ungodly-loud noise at least once an hour. It helped ease some of the tension I felt in my gut— just like Roo said it would.
"I'm tired of this!" I snarled out in frustration after finishing my most recent howl, then in English, "I want Kennedy!"
     Did I really just say that?
Unfazed, my master paced to my bedside with a bored look on his face. "I can't give you Kennedy," he reasoned, "but I can give you an orgasm."
"I wish I could have him for even just one day." I moaned ruefully, "And for more reasons than just sex!"
Noticing a calculating expression on Luka's face, my head tilted to the side. A few moments passed while I watched gears turn in the human's head.
My master reached a rationalization as if he had just solved a sudoku puzzle. "I've got it."
Hesitation pierced my tone. "Got what, exactly?"
"The answer to your problems." Luka hummed thoughtfully, and as easily as he would suggest terryaki for dinner, he said, "We could buy Kennedy."
My jaw dropped. "You can just buy him?"
"Yeah." My master confirmed without empathy, "The only issue is that birds usually cost several million dollars."
"Where are we going to get millions of dollars?" I groaned sorrowfully.
Luka looked at me with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "ALA holds competitions every year to rank out the top birds in agility. I think you could win big with some practice."
"What's ALA?" I questioned.
"The American Lionhearted Association. Kind of like the AKC, except for birds."
"AKC....?" I wondered aloud.
"American Kennel Club. Similar, but that one is for dogs." He began, "Anyways, my dad was telling me there's an event being held about five hours from here next week. We could go and see how you do."
     I mulled over my choices for a few moments before agreeing, "Okay. I want to do it."
Luka's smile was infectious. "I've always wanted to compete with you!"
     The frequent and unending mood swings of humans were a serious thorn in my side.
Swiftly, a laptop was retrieved from the drawer of a nightstand next to the bed. A hop and a skip later, and Luka was in his green armchair, opening the device and typing away with rapid keystrokes. Several minutes passed with just the clickclickclickclick of keys and mouse-clicks.
"The deep web is certainly hard to navigate." Luka reflected, "Good thing my dad emailed me that web address!"
I had no idea what he was talking about, and chose not to respond.
"Let's see...." he murmured aloud, "height, weight, race, gender, coloration, handler information, and.... that's it."
A final key was pushed, and a whoosh sound came from the laptop.
"Congratulations, Apollo, you've been registered for your competition!" Luka hummed happily.
"That's all it took?" I questioned. It seemed too easy.
"Yep. There's not much regulation in the lionheart world." He answered simply before adding, "Now all that's left is to get you ready for the competition. We'll only have a few days to prepare once your ankle is healed up."
"It'll be a piece of cake." I mirrored his enthusiasm, "I've been doing agility for months now, what else is there left to practice?" I countered, and Luka giggled.
Passing the next couple of days was torturous. Luka eased my discomfort with ice and toys, but without a physical outlet, my rut was becoming mind-numbingly frustrating. I tore into food with claws and fangs, shredding it into the tiniest of pieces. Books that I used to love to read and reread had their spines broken and pages torn in frustration when the sensation of bodily want grew too much to tolerate.
It was two days into my healing when I couldn't take it anymore. I tried to howl it out, tried to scream and shout and yowl, thrashed in bed and groaned. The feeling was helplessly overstimulating.
I glanced at Luka, who was in his favorite armchair, armed with earplugs. He had already relieved me four times today.
"Master?" I called out in discomfort. When there was no answer, I called his name. "Luka?" Again, nothing.
Upon closer inspection, I found that my master was asleep with his earplugs in. An irritated groan left me at the sight.
A few more minutes of unbearable overstimulation and my will broke. Conveniently, a bottle of lube sat on the nightstand.
The feeling of my own hand on my length sent me back to the past, but I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't help but move my hand up and down, even through images and visions of Riya in my head.
Tight, rough ropes biting into my joints. The too-warm sensation over her easing herself onto my cock. Growls and yips and purrs. Fangs nipping at my throat. Claws sinking into the flesh of my shoulders. The way she squeezed me as she came, and cried my dead name,
"Derrick!"
I could hear it.
Somehow, someway, what could have been wonderful with Kennedy hurt so incredibly much with Riya.
Somehow, someway, she was still hurting me even after I had killed her.