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The chair groans and creaks as Tiger Claw reclines. It's old and damaged, worn leather and tattered wood, but it's more than suitable for these meetings; meetings that were often without merit.


He shifts his body a little, to anyone else appearing to do it from discomfort, and sighs. Baxter Stockman was heading this gathering, which meant he didn't really need to listen. The man-turned-fly had such little foresight. His plans were often a bumbling mess of half-ideas and as such, they often ended in failure. This meeting was no different, would lead to the same result, and Tiger Claw felt no need to stay engaged.


His hands slip down to beneath the table, paws grazing over the fly of his pants. He waits until the fly mutant begins rambling, using the noise of his buzz to drown out the sound of him pulling the zip down. Immediately there's a warm presence at his crotch, the tiger's fingers grazing over a scaly snout that presses against it insistently, poking through the zipper hole at his underwear. Tiger Claw half-smiles, and though his eyes never leave the board Stockman is jabbing at they begin to glaze, evidently losing focus. 

The chair creaks once again as he shifts his body, allowing his pet better access to his crotch. It snuffles, scaly snout pushing and pressing at the bulge in his underwear. There's even a tiny whimper, though thankfully no one else seems to notice. Tiger Claw lifts his legs and crosses them over behind his pet's neck, pulling him right in against his musky bulge, smooshing his snout up against his hardening cock.


Stockman's voice turns to him, addressing him. Tiger Claw pretends to look attentive, though it's a struggle. He waits a few more moments, waiting for Stockman to peel his attention away from him and onto Bradford before he makes his next move. With a pop Tiger Claw undoes the button on his pants, loosening them so that with a tap of his foot his pet knows to tug them down. After that he gives his next signal, tapping his pet twice with his foot. Almost immediately those hands glide back up to pull down his underwear, and even then that nose is still at his crotch, nudging it and sniffing it; clearly hungry for the scent. Tiger Claw rumbles gently as his sack and penis are exposed to the cool air of the room, though the chill is immediately replaced by the warmth of a tongue.


He purrs, and it's audible enough that Xever shoots him a glance from across the table. He pays no heed to it, though he does at least straighten himself just a bit. They all knew what was going on; they each had a prize of their own. All of them had different uses for them.


This was his.


His pet is quick with his mouth, his tongue moving from his cock to his balls in only a few seconds, lapping at the musky fur like a cub needing to be fed. When it's not his tongue it's his snout, breathing in his scent and returning a needy groan. Always pushing and rubbing and pleasuring. Tiger Claw's nostrils flare, and just for a second he closes his eyes, basking in the sensations that made these meetings worth it. 


A loud crash fills the room. Stockman falls silent. Tiger Claw opens an eye at the lack of irritating buzzing, only half-aware of his surroundings as his pet pleasures him from beneath. Across the table, where Bradford's claws were resting, a portion of the table is missing. Tiger Claw notes with a dazed smirk that it's jutting out of the board Stockman was presenting from. The fly looks distressed, wings flapping despite the mutant standing. The tension is thick, and Tiger Claw can sense a fight oncoming. A perfect opportunity to escape.


"What a farce," he proclaims with disdain. Seeing no reason to stay, he taps his pet four times on the leg, signalling that they're leaving. It takes a few moments for his pet to pull his nose from his crotch and redress the tiger, but the moment it's done Tiger Claw stands and leaves the room, tugging the turtle along behind him on a leash.




Tiger Claw's pace is gentle. He's moving slowly just now, letting his pet enjoy this reward. His cock pushes in and out of Leonardo's slick hole without any resistance, never once missing the target. 


All the while he's purring and groaning, leaning over the turtle's smaller body. Leonardo looks so small and pathetic this way, and that's just how Tiger Claw liked it. The boy was weak and this is where he belonged. That's what he had told him, convinced him, and Leonardo had become all too keen to fall into place with time.


"M...Master..." the boy whimpers. His face is flushed, cheeks glowing red. His mouth hangs agape between words and drool leaks down onto his chin. There's no composure there, none of that previous pride and confidence. Tiger Claw sneers, and his pace suddenly turns brutal. He rams into the boy without restraint. The bed creaks beneath them and Leonardo's whines become squeals with every push.


"Such a good boy," Tiger Claw growls, groping Leonardo's own swollen cock with his paw. The reaction, the noise that Leonardo makes, is immediately satisfying. Tiger Claw begins pumping it. "You did well. So hungry for my scent. Such a perfect toy."


He stops when Leonardo almost cums. He knows the signs now: Leonardo's beak is scrunched up and his eyes are squeezed shut. He waits a few moments, still fucking him at that same brutal pace before he begins stroking it again. Faster, harder, rivalling the speed of his thrusts. Sweat pours down his naked form, lining his fur. The smell of his body is strong in the air, and he can tell it's affecting Leonardo. The turtle opens his eyes and they're glassy and unfocused. His whines rise in pitch. Their bodies convulse in sync. Tiger Claw slams his cock into Leonardo's prostate over and over. His breathing becomes heavy and laboured. His pace quickens without thought. Leonardo's cock quivers; his nostrils flare and he whines out for Tiger Claw, for his master, as his cum coats his face and plastron. Tiger Claw grunts and then roars as he finally cums, filling his pet up.


Seconds feel like hours as the pair of them remain there, almost in limbo, before settling down without any struggle. Tiger Claw lowers his body down, enveloping the soft scales beneath him in his furred body. He prods his muzzle against Leo's cheek, continues to lazily fuck him, and whispers in his ear.


"My cub."