#feline beast

[mobilerafie]

Astonishing X-Men: Beast

I picked up the Marvel Legends Beast from Astonishing X-Men. Finding him just chilling at my neighborhood GameStop was refreshing because I have been window shopping for some new figures, and I could always use an updated Beast figure; especially one that is in his Feline Era. This toy really pops with its blue hue. I am excited to add him to the collection!

[beastandwolverine]

Barbed

Hank's secondary mutation made Trish Trilby dump him. But other women aren't her, and some still find a feline-esque form quite attractive.

NSFW, one-night stand, slightly non-canon because Hank has his own place vs just living in Xavier's mansion

Credit to @positivelybeastly for the best and most logical hcs that I couldn’t not include.

Enjoy!

“They’ll settle down,” Hank said.

His place was nice. Simple. Not many decorations to personalize the space, but nice. Tidy. Of course, that was all minus the birds.

While he hung her coat in the closet by the front door, Leandra walked through the living room to the two large cages hanging near the window. The enclosures shook as the little colorful finches inside flitted around it, startled by her presence. The noise they made was impressive.

She turned and was surprised to discover he was standing close behind her.

“You snuck up on me!”

He cocked an eyebrow and gestured to his feet. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to realize his silence was because he’d taken his shoes off and the carpet muffled his approach, or if it was simply that his feet were much more feline than his hands. Hank chuckled, the sound warm and rich. Placing his less-catlike-but-not-entirely-human hands on her shoulders, he gently turned her to face him.

“I don’t eat them. The birds.”

“Oh. I . . . didn’t think so.”

A bit of a smile raised one side of his muzzle, and made the fur around his eyes crinkle. “Most people would assume I do. While I do enjoy watching their antics, I don’t feel any overwhelming urge to hunt them. They’re simply enjoyable to have, and they’re pretty. I’m not actually a cat, you know.”

Leandra blushed. “I know that.”

Hank guided her to the sofa, then left her to fetch a bottle of wine. He asked if she’d prefer red or white; she told him either was fine. He returned with two glasses of white and, after handing her one, sunk to the cushion beside her.  

Tall and well-dressed, the blue pinstripes in his suit subtly matching his fur, he’d caught her eye as she wandered through the room, sipping on cheap sparkling wine and nibbling on cheese with a toothpick through it. They had ended up together in front of an abstract with splashes of color that she said reminded him of bird feathers, which was juvenile and not at all sophisticated. He hadn’t scoffed however; he agreed and used a clawed finger to delicately follow the lines and named them the rachis and the wisps of paint afterfeathers. After walking together and dissecting other abstracts into basics, he invited her back to his place.

It was easier to talk to him here than at the crowded art gallery showing. Less people. Less noise. They chatted and laughed and went through not just one but one and a half bottles of wine. When she curled her legs under her on the sofa, and glanced at her phone; it read 12:36 in the morning. She gasped.

“You didn’t turn into a pumpkin,” Hank remarked in an amused tone, leaning on his paw--hand--with his elbow on the back of the furniture.

She laughed again. “Nope! I just--I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. We were having such a good time. Talking. And . . . maybe more?”

He laughed with her even as his golden eyes grew sharp. He dropped the hand his cheek rested on to her bare upper arm and allowed his pointed but manicured nails to lightly caress her skin. “Yes, I’d certainly like that, Leandra.” 

His tongue darted out and flicked upward, wetting his nose. That, plus the predatory glint to his gaze made her shiver. She felt like prey.

In the best possible way.

Leandra leaned forward, closing the short distance between them. “I’d like that too.”

Slightly tilting her head, she pressed her lips on his. The tip of his tongue, meeting hers, was soft. His teeth, as she slipped her tongue further into his mouth, were sharp--something she had seen when he openly laughed during their conversation but hadn’t fully registered until she lapped at them. A low rumble filled the air. She pressed a palm flat on his chest.

“Are you purring?” she giggled.

“No,” Hank confessed, “not truly. But women seem to expect it, so I do indulge them by pretending--”

Her giggle erupted into full laughter. “You don’t have to pretend, Hank! I like you as you are, not as some fantasy!”

A grin broke across his face. “That’s good to hear. It’s not exactly comfortable to maintain when I’m actually trying to breathe.”

Leandra laughed again.

Her mirth was cut off as he led her by hand, walking backwards so there weren’t many pauses between kisses, to his bedroom. All of the blankets on the large bed were thrown back and disordered, random wrinkled shirts and ties covered the single chair, and books littered the floor. Hank apologized for the state of the room. Leandra told him she didn’t care about any of that; she only had eyes for him.

That cat-like purr started again. She shook her head in amusement and boldly flipped his tie over his shoulder to begin working open the buttons on his shirt, before leaning in to press a kiss to the fur on his chest.

Hank gasped at the quick, assertive contact. “Have you--have you been with many people so . . . physically mutated before?”

Leandra didn’t stand but tilted her head looked up at him. “Uhm. No. Is that . . . is that okay?”

“You’re just so comfortable. Most people hesitate--they’re unsure and don’t wish to offend--”

She smirked and reached around him to slap him soundly on the ass, making him bite off the rest of his observation in surprise. “I know what I like and I like you. Men are men, right? You want to get laid. Well here’s a secret that lots of men--of all kinds--don’t seem to understand.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Women want to get laid too.”

She winked up at him and planted another kiss on his chest. She pushed her tongue through his pelt so it could actually make contact with his skin.

Suddenly they were both wearing too much clothing. In a flurry of activity interrupted by kissing, moans, and groping, Leandra found herself nude and tossed to the mattress onto her back, while Hank stood and gazed down on her with hunger in his golden eyes. He licked his lips and for a second, that same thrill of being weak and helpless ran through her. Maybe she should have played hard to get. Maybe she should have been more lady-like and not be here, splayed on display, only hours after meeting him.

Fuck that. They’d hit it off. He was attractive. If she’d simply kept it chaste she’d have lay in her own bed at home, alone, with her hands between her legs. Thinking of him.

Hank had yet to strip completely. He stood between her knees sans shirt and tie but with his trousers still on, although his belt had been undone enough to show what may be briefs? They looked more like a jockstap, maybe?. Somehow the focus had been on her dress and undergarments. Just as he’d apologized for his bedroom not being tidy, having not expected a guest, she thought the same about her mismatched underwear. They weren’t even cute! Just a plain white thong and a pink bra that truthfully was so old it needed to be retired from rotation.

Hank didn’t seem to notice; all her underwear was discarded without a comment and was now somewhere lost on the floor.

“You’re gorgeous.”

She blushed and was glad she resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest. “Thank you.”

She watched his nostrils flare and his chest expand as he breathed in the scent of her. It hadn’t been as obvious, her being human and all, but she’d done the same when she landed with a thump on his bed. He’d worn a nice cologne tonight but the sheets smelled distinctly of him: pungent in a good way.

Without another word, Hank dropped to his knees before her. The pads of his fingers slipped along her calves then knees, then the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. For a moment he watched his own progress before glancing back up to her face.

His eyes were so dilated only a ring of gold surrounded the pupils.

“May I?” he whispered.

As if she’d say no.

At her wordless nodding agreement, he immediately leaned in and slipped his tongue through her folds. Once, delicately, as if shy or determining if she was truly going to allow him this. Twice, with more deliberate intent, as if tasting and savoring the flavor of her. And third--and all counts after--Hank shoved his muzzle into her as if he was worshipping at the altar of her pussy. 

Leandra arched her back tightly at the heat and enthusiasm of his mouth. Few men she’d ever been with ate her out with such zeal. Hank slurped, hummed his own pleasure, and explored each and every inch of her pussy. He quickly discovered what made her squeal--capturing her clit between his lips and flicking it with the tip of his tongue, and what made her lose her voice while grabbing the side of his head so he didn’t pull off too soon--heavy, non-moving pressure on the bundle of nerves.

When he paused to take in some air, he kept the pads of his fingers stroking her, as if to keep her primed and ready for another round after he’d caught his breath. She whined prettily, so close to orgasm but not quite there.

The first time the tip of his finger dipped into her cunt, Leandra held her breath.

“Okay?” Hank asked quietly, noting her reaction.

“Y-yes,” she stuttered.

“This isn’t where you confess you’re a virgin, is it?” His voice lilted the question to make it a tease.

“No,” Leandra insisted. “I’m sorry I tensed up.”

“Don’t apologize. I just wanted to be sure--” Even as he spoke, he lowered his muzzle to her pussy again, his warm breath ghosting over her slick folds. The tip of his tongue found her clit again, lapping at it, as he finally slid his finger into her.

“Oh god--” she croaked, and involuntarily ground her pelvis down on the digit.

Hank chuckled. “That’s what I like to hear.”

After a moment of attempting to formulate words again, she begged him for two fingers. Obliging immediately, Hank continued to target her clit, sucking it as he finger fucked her. Her hand clutched at the side of his head and caught his ear this time as her pleasure began to peak again. He ignored her pulling his hair and stopped, his tongue flat against her clit. Her thighs trembled. With a deliberate curl of his fingers inside her, she came so hard he may have lost some of that hair.

Hank didn’t move, however, allowing Leandra to ride out her orgasm as long as she needed or wanted. Instead of the faux purr originating in his chest, he hummed; that settled the vibration in his lips, which made her arch again, her second climax nipping on the heels of the first. 

During its spasms, her cunt clamped on his fingers.

When her involuntary tremors slowed, Leandra remembered how to unlock her fingers from him. Her knuckles ached from the force and she tried to discreetly shake her hand to get rid of the minor pain. Sheepishly she also tried to pat his hair, once so coiffed and tidy, back into place. She’d managed to muss it. One side of it, at least. She also gently stroked his ear, hoping she hadn’t hurt him by tugging on it.

Hank grinned up at her, looking immensely pleased with himself. To her sighing dismay, his fingers slipped out of her. While still between her legs he shoved them into his mouth and sucked the flavor off them with clear delight.

“You’re stunning when you come,” he praised.

“You couldn’t have seen much, with your head buried in my crotch,” she dismissed lightly.

“True, but vision isn’t everything. The sounds you made, the heat of your body, the trembling in your legs . . . all an artist’s stroke, beautifully bringing emotion to life.”

She rolled her eyes in pretend exasperation. “One, are you seriously complimenting yourself? That’s supposed to be my job. And two, you already have me in your bed, so all the flowery poetic stuff isn’t required.”

He cocked an amused eyebrow up at her. “So my vocabulary should devolve to, ‘Your snatch tastes real good’?”

Leandra laughed so hard she snorted. Embarrassed, she covered her mouth but that didn’t stop her snickering.

Hank shook his head in mock-offense, but couldn’t hide his grin and chuckles either. When she was finally able to control herself, Leandra sat up enough to grab his shoulders and then pull him back down over her as she lay back. He shuffled up off the floor, still half-clothed, to hold himself on his elbows and knees above her.

Reaching up and taking hold of his neck, she lifted her head to press her mouth on his again. The fine fur of his muzzle was damp from the combination of his spit and the wet from her pussy. She kissed him deeply, delving past his fangs to swirl her tongue around his.

One hand occupied in keeping him close, the other snaked down his torso to the front of his pants. The zipper of his fly didn’t separate even when she attempted to slip her hand into it, so she had to settle with cupping the bulge she felt trapped behind it.

Breaking the kiss, she asked, “Do I get to return the favor?”

She gave him a squeeze.

“Leandra . . . I . . . this is nice. We could just relax if you’d like, or  . . .”

“What?” she exclaimed, surprised. “No! This isn’t all for me--I want to make you feel good too!”

“That’s kind. But--”

“But what?” She fixed him with a look. “You’re not going to tell me you’re a virgin because I won’t believe it! Not with a tongue as talented as yours!”

Hank sighed and used one hand, the one not still damp from being inside her, to stroke her cheek. “Leandra,” he repeated, and took another moment to gather his thoughts. “No, I’m no virgin. But just as I’ve learned human women expect a purr from someone as felinoid as I look, I’ve also learned that my private parts . . . well, to be blunt, my cock can shock people. Women. Terrify them, even.”

Her brow furrowed. She couldn’t imagine what he may be alluding to. “Hank, what are you talking about?”

He sighed again. She took his hesitancy to surge upward and kiss him again, which he seemed to appreciate. When it ended and her expression was still expectant, his shoulders sagged a little.

“I’m not a cat,” he reminded her, just as he had earlier, when they’d first arrived in his apartment, “but I do have certain physical attributes similar to them. My muzzle, my fur, the claws on my feet, and . . . there.”

He glanced downward, between them, where her hand still held his erection.

Continuing, he said, “You’ve said not been with a physical mutant. But I’m sure you’ve seen the porn of it?”

Blushing and not entirely sure where any of this was going, Leandra gave a half-shrug and nodded.

“Mostly caninoids and the occasional equiniods, I’d wager. Maybe bovinoid as well, ” Hank said without judgement. “They’re most popular with women. A knot has appeal, as does the size of a horse or bull dick.”

At her next, more embarrassed nod, he did too.

“Understandable. If you’re only looking for the most vanilla of mutant porn, that’s what you’ll find. You have to dig a little deeper for some of the more . . . exotic flavors. Porcinoid, if someone is interested in a literally twisted cock, or felinoid.”

“ . . . which is?” Leandra whispered, her throat dry.

Hank closed his eyes for a beat longer than natural before answering. Opening them again to find her waiting patiently for an answer, he replied, “Barbed.”

Leandra’s eyebrows came together again as she tried to fathom what, exactly, that meant. “Barbed?” she repeated.

“Yes,” he said with a slightly defeated tone, “barbed. As in spikes. As in protusions ending in points.”

She stayed silent so he fell silent too. After it stretched a moment, he forced a smile. “So there you have it. I’m so glad you agreed to come back to my place, and I’m even happier you had such a good time. It was my pleasure! I can call you an Uber if you’d like. Maybe we could even get coffee some time? I did truly enjoy spending time with you.”

He pushed himself up to get off and away from her. 

“What? Hank, are you kicking me out?”

“Oh--I certainly didn’t mean . . . if you’d like to stay, that is, I’m happy to have you! Again, I’m sorry the room is such a mess. I wasn’t expecting company. I can change the sheets, it won’t take long--”

“Hank, stop! Knock it off. I just needed a second to think about what you said! I don’t want to go and I do want to still have sex with you!”

Her announcement froze him half-on, half-off the bed. “What? You . . . do?”

Leandra sat up and grabbed him. “Yes! Yes I do! If you don’t want to have sex with me, that’s one thing, but you don’t get to decide what I think of your junk!”

He cocked his head to examine her, as if trying to determine if she was joking or lying. In his pause, she scooted even closer and kissed the nearest part of his body--his upper arm and shoulder--while her hand returned to his lower abdomen, just above his pubic bone. She dragged her fingernails through the thicker fur there. More than a gentle petting, the movement was full of intent and occasionally her fingers slipped under the elastic of his underwear, dipping even lower.

“Leandra, I . . . don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes. Say, I can’t wait to fuck you. I can’t believe I get to fuck you.”

His breath caught in his throat. He swallowed. “Y-yes. All that.”

She nipped his shoulder playfully, getting a mouthful of blue fur in the process. “Say it!”

“I can’t believe I get to fuck you.”

“That’s better. And . . . ?”

“I can’t . . . I can’t wait to fuck you.”

“Excellent!” she crowed before physically turning him so she could kiss him properly once more.

Tethered by her mouth, Hank allowed her to push him into standing again. Then, with her sitting on his mattress, in the wet spot from her earlier orgasm, he watched with excitement bubbling in his stomach--and trepidation, couldn’t get rid of that--as she quickly unzipped his trousers and shoved them down to his knees. She allowed him a moment to remove them completely. Standing before her in just underwear (it was a jock) with his cock tenting the fabric, he jumped when Leandra leaned forward and put her mouth on him.

Even separated by cotton, he could still feel the damp heat of her breath and the movement of her tongue as she dragged it up the side of his shaft. He clenched his jaw as her hands gripped the elastic of his waistband and more carefully than his pants, pulled them down.

His cock sprung free as he stepped out of the elastic straps and fabric.

“Oh . . . ” she breathed.

“Is that a good ‘oh’ or an ‘oh shit’ oh?” he tried to joke. It sounded flat to his ears, but then again, blood pounded in them, making it difficult to hear. 

“It’s a good oh,” Leandra replied. Somehow she managed not to make it sound like he was an idiot.

He’d said barbed. That was true. Starting an inch or so below the tip a multitude of thin white spikes of various lengths, all curved slightly backwards, adorned the circumference of his shaft. What he hadn’t mentioned was the deep appealing color nor thickness of it. It may not be the longest cock she'd seen, but it would stretch her once seated completely inside her.

Her pussy clenched at the thought.

Leandra dragged her gaze away from his cock back to his face. He looked worried; his lips turned downward in a frown, apparently ready for rejection.

“It’s pretty,” she said, reaching forward to cup his balls, heavily furred and held tightly against his body. “Can I kiss it?”

Hank blinked. “No one has ever . . .”

“Not a virgin, huh?” she teased. “Lucky me, then.”

Before he could say anything in encouragement or protest, Leandra wrapped her lips around the slightly tapered head. She sucked lightly, swirling her tongue around its smoothness, while Hank gasped and moaned.

“Careful, d-don’t go too--ah!--deep!” he warned.

She nodded to demonstrate she understood, then sucked even harder. Occasionally she did bob too low and the very first barbs passed through her lips. They were a little more blunt than some of the longer spines further down; they didn’t cause any pain or bleeding on the inside of her lips. Hank bodily jerked when they were pulled slightly backwards to be released. Grinning because she noticed, Leandra repeated the action several times. She even went as far as to gently wrap a hand around his shaft to keep it steady and barbs laying flat. She didn’t stroke him, but kept the pressure around his cock firm as she continued to work higher up on it. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck--” Hank muttered on repeat. His hips jerked erratically as she continued. After a few minutes of heavy, concentrated pleasure focused solely on his cock, he managed to croak out, “I’m going to--Leandra, oh fuck--I’m going to come--!”

Immediately she pulled off him. Completely. Mouth and hands released him. Hank groaned pitifully, his cock an even darker shade now, bobbing with the pumping of his heart and dripping with spit.

“Nope!” Leandra said brightly, as if she hadn’t tortured him. “You said you were going to fuck me, remember?”

He tried to catch his breath. “Y-yes. I c-certainly do.”

Sporting a wide, hungry grin, Leandra scooted herself back more fully onto the bed. Spreading her legs to accommodate him, she invited, “Come on then. I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

With a groan of desire, he climbed onto the bed between her thighs.

Now that he’d managed to calm down at least a little, his earlier worry returned. “I don’t want to hurt you. These barbs . . . they’re to stimulate but also keep us together. So it may--”

“Just stick it in me, already!” she interrupted, chuckling. “I’m more than ready!”

“I don’t know that you are--”

“Hank. I want you. To. Fuck. Me!”

Taking hold of his hips, Leandra pulled him against her. His cock missed, of course, sliding instead up the folds of her pussy. She gasped and then laughed at the sensations the barbs he was worried about slipped along her clit.

“Hank . . . please--”

He shook. He hoped she didn’t notice. But he took himself in hand and after a second of fumbling, found the spot they both wanted him to be. A minor pop of his hips, and the head of his cock entered her. Holding himself still despite the urge to simply seat himself as deeply as possible, Hank said,

“Okay, relax for the next part--”

Once again she simply dug her fingers through the pelt on his hips to get a good grip on his skin, and rocked him forward. His cock, barbs and all, opened her up and she cried out at the stretch.

The pressure was immense. Leandra had to remember to breathe but at the same time, wanted more. “Hank,” she whined, dragging out his name as a plea. Her hands remained tight on his hips, although she managed to move one further back to take hold of his ass.

“Oh fuck,” he replied, all growl and desire. The eloquence had fled from his voice. He sounded feral.

She liked it, and told him so in a strained whisper. She also told him to not hold back. 

“Your wish is my command,” he managed to reply, the articulation sanded off the words by the low grumbling tone. Then he fucked her as she asked. As his body demanded. 

The barbs on his cock may have been meant to keep them together, as he said, but they were flexible and no match for the driving force of his hips. Each push seated them snugly inside her; each pull opened them up to drag along the inside of her cunt, electrifying nerve-endings she didn’t even know existed. Leandra lost her voice crying out so sharply and so often. She was reduced to mewling as pleasure twisted into a tight coil in her gut.

Hank gave up words as well, or forgot them. Pistoning his hips brutally into hers, the heat of her pussy, so wet and tight, so inviting--he couldn’t remember a time when sex had been so perfect. So right. Every time he backed slightly away, her cunt gripped him like she couldn’t bear to be separated. Each time it stimulated his barbs in a way he’d never experienced before.

To try and muffle his bellowing, he buried his muzzle in the junction of her neck and shoulder.

He would have lasted longer, wanted to last longer, but she’d primed him by sucking his cock. With effort, he paused with his pelvis pressed tightly to hers. Raggedly, he whispered,

“I’m going to come, I can’t-I can’t hold back--”

Maybe it was intentional. Maybe it was simply luck. But Hank had stopped, pressed deeply inside her. She could barely even squeeze her cunt around his girth. The stretch was incredible. More than that, however, his pubic bone lay heavily against her clit. That, and combination of her pussy opened to the maximum, raked internally by a feature she didn’t even know existed until a very short time ago, made her come so hard nothing else existed in the room except her and Hank.

The last pillar of his restraint toppled with Leandra’s body tightening to an extreme degree and her wordless sound of pure bliss. Hank roared through his release, his voice once again closer to animal than not. Leandra, fuck drunk, laughed with joy to hear it. She clung to him tightly as his cock throbbed, dumping his come inside her.

It took several minutes for both of them to catch their breath and unlock themselves from each other. Her sweat made the sheets damp where she lay, and when Hank eased his cock out of her--her gasping each time a barb refused to move gently--his come leaked out copiously, a larger wet spot formed.

He handed her the top sheet to wipe herself up and then together they changed the sheets.

Settling back into the bed, spooned against each other, he asked if she was all right. She didn’t know about how she’d feel in the morning, but at this specific moment, she replied, wrapping her arm around his, crossed over her stomach, she felt fantastic.

Hank chuckled and kissed her shoulder. “The name Leandra is the feminine form of Leander, you know,” he said.

Sleepily she replied, “Is this your version of pillow talk?”

“A little. Leander combines ‘lion’ and ‘man’ from Greek. Your name would mean the same.”

“So I was destined to be with a lion man?”

“ . . . perhaps.”

“Well thank heavens for that. I’m glad we met at that gallery opening.” She snuggled a little more comfortably against him. His pelt was soft and warm.

“Me too,” he agreed, although he wasn’t sure she heard as she drifted off to sleep. 

fin.