A patrolman strips the fox bare in the woods, his fingers rough against the dark hair clinging to damp skin, while the rifle rests forgotten beside them. The slim body trembles as he kneels, checking every inch, asshole gaping, hole slick with anticipation, before pressing his palm hard against the ribs, testing the weight of him. The pathway behind them is silent, the only sound the rustle of leaves as he works, his breath hot against the nape of the neck.
