Four-Armed Bargain

In the shadowed alleys of the tabaxi enclave, where moonlight filtered through silk banners, Criskas lounged in his modest den, his two slender arms busy with a collection of sleek toys. The alliance with Varvar had been struck days ago—an uneasy pact for mutual gain, though the four-armed brute had never clarified his true need for the weaker tabaxi. Criskas's whiskers twitched as he recalled the deal: no refusal allowed on alliance matters.

Varvar's massive frame filled the doorway without warning, white fur gleaming, four powerful arms crossed. "Caught you playing, little omega," Varvar rumbled, voice like gravel and silk. "Our pact didn't forbid this, so I'm claiming my due. You're mine tonight—as my personal doll."

Criskas froze, toys clattering. "You can't be serious. The contract was for goals, not... this. I never agreed to be your plaything." His tone stayed sharp, defiant despite the fear coiling in his gut. Varvar's strength could snap him or worse.

"You can't refuse," Varvar countered with a smirk, stepping closer, two arms already reaching. "Why me? You never said." Criskas shot back, heart pounding. "Because you're useful, and now entertaining. Strip. Or shall I help with these extra hands?" The dialogue sparked like flint, tension thick as Varvar's scent flooded the room.

Criskas's resistance melted under the weight of the pact, his body betraying him with growing heat. "Fine, but if you hurt me—" "You'll beg for more," Varvar interrupted wittily, pinning him gently yet firmly with two arms while the others explored. Clothes fell away, revealing Criskas's lithe form. Varvar's cock hardened visibly, thick and insistent. "Look how horny you are already, dripping for me."

They tumbled to the furs, dialogue flowing amid gasps. "I've never done a blowjob," Criskas admitted, voice witty even as fear lingered. "What if I damage something? Your strength is terrifying." Varvar laughed low, guiding with care. "Then we'll start slow, omega. Use that clever tongue." Criskas complied, taking Varvar's hard cock into his mouth, the act new and overwhelming, saliva mixing with pre-cum.

Varvar's four arms held and caressed, one stroking Criskas's ass, another teasing his wet entrance. "Your pussy's dripping, so ready," he teased, though Criskas had no such anatomy—yet the omega heat made everything slick. Fingers worked him open, building to penetration. Criskas panted, "Don't stretch me too far, brute. Witty as you are, your power scares me."

The sex built explicitly: Varvar thrust his cock into Criskas's ass, slow at first, four arms supporting every angle. Criskas rode the sensation, strong in his defiance, pushing back. "Harder, but controlled," he demanded. Sweat beaded their fur as they moved, Varvar's extra limbs gripping thighs and stroking Criskas's own hardness. The climax hit with Criskas coming first, cum spilling across white fur, then Varvar following, filling him deep. Panting filled the air, bodies slick and satisfied.

As they cooled, Varvar's arms lingered possessively. "This alliance just got personal." Criskas smirked despite exhaustion. "Next time, warn me—or I'll use those toys on you." The night hinted at deeper entanglements ahead, secrets of their pact still unfolding.