It had been another unsuccessful day of hunting for his dinner, trying to capture that dang Roadrunner and eat well for once in his miserable life. He had failed of course and now had to go to bed hungry yet again. Wile E. Coyote sat gloomily by his fire as the sun slowly went down, huddling against the rock, beside his empty cooking splint. His eyes drifted down to half lidded and he yawned showing off an impressive set of teeth. He'd be asleep soon enough and his empty stomach would be forgotten until another day.
He had almost dosed off when the jangle of an Acme bell interrupted his descent into dreamland. He sat up, surprised, looking this way and that. It took a moment to remember that he had set up a trap over by the trees behind his small camp, right where he knew the Roadrunner sometimes stopped for a drink.
His mouth fell open with surprise as he leapt to his feet. That trap had been there for ages, could it be that the bird had finally tripped it? His mouth watered as he walked quicker towards the small group of trees, especially when he heard the rustle of feathers. At the end he broke into a run and sacked the bird, landing fully on top of it.
What he didn't expect was for the Roadrunner to not struggle when he pinned it. He sat up again, fingers threaded around the bird's slender throat and glanced down its body. He could see his foot now in the waning light of day, caught in the snare he had placed for it. He was sure if he hadn't come running the bird would have been able to free its self in no time at all.
That didn't explain why he wasn't getting any fight from the birdy. Confused he loosened his grip ever so slightly, inspecting the bird closely.
"Hey?" he began cautiously.
The bird raised its head ever so slightly. "Meep, meep?" It replied. Its voice was different than Wile was used to. Its meeps were low and questioning. Almost scared.
He patted the bird's feathers by his neck where his hand had squeezed only moments before, then wondered why on earth he was patting his dinner reassuringly. When he continued for some time, he wondered why he wasn't stopping...
He stared at his hand. Almost fascinated he watched as his fingers disappeared into the shiny feathers and touched the soft warm down underneath. He carded the feathers aside, then smoothed them out again. He kept doing this until a movement from the Roadrunner distracted him.
Wile glanced up. The bird was trying to reach the water, his little tongue darting out. His head was only inches away and Wile realized he must have gotten captured before he could quench his thirst.
He frowned and stood, at the last second remembering not to let go of the bird and placed a hand on its neck to hold it down. He reached out with the other hand and scooped up a handful of water, then brought his hand back down the Roadrunner's head. For a second the bird looked at him then moved its beak forwards, tongue darting out to lap at his wet fingers in quick tiny movements.
Wile shivered. He was so startled at the way seeing the Roadrunner lick his fingers made him react that he jerked his hand away. The bird made a sad "meep,meep?" and tried to chase his hand with its head.
Wile's trauma was quickly replaced by pity. He dipped his hand into the water again and brought that hand back to the bird's beak. For a moment the Roadrunner eyed him again then resumed licking at his fingers.
Wile had to close his eyes, drawing a deep breath from between his teeth. He was very aware that he should not be feeling this way. Not about, you know, that... the burning feeling down below... he gasped as suddenly his entire finger was engulfed in warmth. His eyes flew open to see Roadrunner had his entire finger in his mouth, and was sliding his tongue lazily up and down it.
He stared. He could swear the bird was grinning past his finger. He removed his hand abruptly, jerking it away. The Roadrunner almost looked disappointed as Wile E. Coyote stood. He forced himself to look away and steeled his resolve. The bird was food. He was going to break its neck and cook it and eat it... and... what was it doing?
The bird had rolled over on his back, wings flopped out to his sides, neck exposed, head to the side... his one uncaptured foot cycling the air lazily. Wile actually coughed and stumbled, tripping and landing right across the bird's chest. Horrified he tried to scramble back to his feet only to fall over again, this time landing face to face with the bird.
The bird raised its head again. "Meep, Meep?" it questioned and fluttered its feathers, wings and tail beating the loose sand gently. He could swear there was a suggestive gleam in the bird's eyes and Wile began to sweat.
"I'm hungry!" he protested suddenly, aware that if this continued he wasn't going to be able to eat his prey the way he wanted to. The Roadrunner stopped moving and looked at him. He wondered vaguely if it could understand him. "I'm hungry," he repeated, shaking his head slowly. To back him up, his stomach chose that moment to growl angrily.
Now the bird looked sad. He raised his head and pressed his beak to Wile's muzzle, then to the side of his face. Wile didn't move, even when that small tongue started to dart out again, toying with the side of his mouth. He let out another gasp, moving his head aside, and the bird started to lick at his sensitive ears.
That did it. He felt himself slide down and out and wondered at that. He was so malnourished his ribs probably stuck out and he still managed to get this worked up. He threw himself from the bird and sank to his knees between its captured leg and free one, drawn by a sudden urge to smell the bird. It was his canine ancestry, he supposed, as he placed his nose right where the bird's backend should have been and sniffed deeply. It smelt incredible, so much so that his head swam. There were no feathers here but the taste... he licked and licked, the flavor made his mouth water even more. The bird bucked suddenly, his tail moving back and forth excitedly. Wile grabbed a handful of tail feathers to pin the bird down as he dragged his tongue past the bird's opening to the bare patch of skin in front of it again. Suddenly the bird let out a muffled meep and shuddered, and the taste got much stronger in Wile's mouth. He moved his head back and inspected his prey. The bird looked back at him... its... no HIS eyes half lidded and mouth open as he panted, tongue hanging out of his mouth a bit.
"You... you know... didn't you?" Wile gestured and flushed, glad suddenly that the bird couldn't see his embarrassment through his fur.
The bird let out a helpful "meep meep!", sounding much more cheerful now. When Wile went to get off of him the bird flapped and moved, tripping him with his tail feathers and flailing foot and suddenly Wile found himself on his back with quite a lot of bird perched on his chest. He blinked as the Roadrunner pressed his beak to his own snout and let out another "meep meep!", settling his rump down on Wile's crotch. He gasped as the warm wet skin slid across his unbearably hard flesh. Suddenly he was gripping the bird's wing feathers in his hands as he bucked up against him, craving more of that contact. Somehow the bird got the hint and sat down harder, grinding his erection against his stomach and his own backend, putting more pressure than he could stand there. Especially when the bird started to move, sliding up and down, making the captive Coyote snarl and cry out. In the end the thing that pushed him over the edge was feeling that sly little tongue playing with his ears again. He pushed up against the RoadRunner hard, shouting out into the night as he came.
He went limp, his grip relaxing, eyes closed, far to spent to do anything now. As his hands fell away, he felt the Roadrunner get off of him. He heard some pecking sounds, and knew that his dinner was in the process of escaping. He'd let him. He'd earned his freedom. He just didn't want to see the bird go to be reminded yet again that he had failed. Wile resolved to not move until the Roadrunner was gone.
What he didn't expect was to feel the bird nuzzling at his cheek a few moments later. He opened his eyes and stared into the bird's, only to have the bird declare very loudly "meep, meep!" right before zooming off.
... Of course.
He sighed and tiredly dragged himself to his feet. He made it to the pool and washed himself off in the meager moonlight, then slowly made his way back to camp. His fire was dying and he managed to shove a few more logs into the pit before collapsing and falling into a dreamless sleep.
It was still a couple hours before he would have woken up when he came to with a start. The dawn was grey and he was cold, the fire having died down to embers again. He shivered and moved to put another log on the fire when he stopped short.
The Roadrunner stood less than five feet away from him. He stared and sat down again, mouth gapping, wondering why his adversary was so close. The Roadrunner cocked his head to the side as he looked back at him, and then, as Wile watched, stepped forwards. Wile was utterly surprised when the bird dropped a rather large cricket at his feet. Now Wile stared at that.
"Meep, meep?" the Roadrunner questioned. He made a motioning gesture with one of his feet.
Wile didn't need to be asked twice. He leapt on the morsel of food and gulped it down in two bites. Heck, crickets were better than nothing. He grinned back up at the Roadrunner, licking his chops.
The bird seemed pleased. He bobbed his head and flared his tail before stepping forwards towards Wile. Wile watched as the bird settled down beside him. He nuzzled the Coyote's neck a couple times before laying his head back on his wing and closing his eyes.
When Wile was done getting over his utter amazement he slowly settled down next to the Roadrunner and laid his own head on the bird's other wing. The bird shifted closer, clicked his tongue and made a single content "meep".
Author's Notes: Some of the mating rituals of the Greater Road Runner include chasing their mate to be all over the place and bringing them gifts of food. -grins-