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Heartthrob.

The sign seemed to speak its name in the absence of a voice, the looping neon tubes pulsing steadily as if jetting blood through a network of veins. Each letter burned a garish shade of red that pierced the moonless dark, shining like a beacon before the two men as they emerged from the mouth of an alley. They watched the lumbering shell of a deadheading bus roll past, then jogged across the street.

One half of the large double doors flew open just inches in front of them. A pair of horses immersed in conversation marched past without so much as a glance of acknowledgement. Devlin watched them clop down the sidewalk and pushed an annoyed snort of air through his nose. His grand entrance ruined, he walked into the nightclub quietly, eyes darting left and right inside his barely-moving head as he took in the look of the place. A small stage sat to his left, lined on either side by booths below shuttered windows. The bar counter extended half the length of the far wall, hanging racks of martini glasses sparkling in the dim light. The color scheme of wine reds and coffee browns gave the space an alluring warmth. The interior was charming, all in all, if somewhat underwhelming.

Devlin nodded to himself. "Not bad."

Behind the jackal, a bull ducked as he entered the building, careful not to catch the tips of his horns on the doorframe. "What do we think? Looks pretty nice."

"Not bad," Devlin repeated. "Looks like it could be a yuppie magnet, though. Let's hang out and see who shows up during prime time." He slipped a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and retrieved a faux snakeskin wallet. Parting the folds, he plucked one of two twenty-dollar bills. "Grab us a couple Rum and Cokes. And remember--"

"If I can taste the Coke, tell the bartender to make them again." Gerald spoke impatiently as he recited the instructions he'd be given twice before that evening.

Devlin patted the bull's shoulder. "Glad you're payin' attention. I'm gonna go check out the local clientele." He walked toward the lounge area, a bounce in his step as he snapped his fingers in time with the beat of the song the DJ was playing.

Gerald shook his head and pocketed the money before making his way to the bar. "At least they don't have karaoke here," he said under his breath. Together, he and Devlin accounted for half the members of Destruction Project. Although the band had played less than a dozen formal gigs and was virtually unknown outside a small group of fans on their freebie message board, Devlin played his role as frontman with the utmost devotion, pursuing all the grandeurs of a rockstar lifestyle scaled down to a miniaturized version he could afford--if only just barely. After a few drinks, the jackal had been known to attack a karaoke performance with enough gusto to rile the other patrons into a frenzy that ensured they could cross the name of yet another establishment off their list of potentials.

The middle of three empty stools along the bar counter looked ideal to the large bull. He claimed the seat and waited patiently, tail swaying below shiny black pants packed full of his muscular ass. Officially, their reason for being out that night was to scout suitable venues where the band might be able to book a gig. Unofficially, he knew that assignment was little more than an excuse Devlin periodically recycled to go barhopping. His true goals had less to do with lining up shows than finding something warm to slide his cock into. Not that Gerald minded these excursions; they tended to be entertaining at the least, and sometimes presented opportunities for the kind of thrills that left behind fond memories, however hazy and speckled the images would be upon recollection.

Returning from the realm of his thoughts, Gerald dropped his gaze from the array of ceiling lamps in time to spot the bartender and wave him down. The tiger approached and leaned on the counter to meet him at eye level. "Hey, handsome. Can I see some ID?"

"You flatter me," Gerald joked. He'd just celebrated his thirty-first birthday a month earlier, but his size and chiseled face gave him the appearance of being safely aged beyond the need to bother carding him. The tiger, meanwhile, looked barely old enough to be drinking alcohol, let alone serving it.

He read Gerald Caldwell's name aloud off his driver's license, then said, "Pleasure to meet you, Gerald. I'm Miles." The men shook hands. "So what're you drinking tonight, stud?"

Gerald noticed the feline's hand lingered in his. He applied more pressure to his grip and felt his palm squeezed tighter in response. "Take a couple of Cuba Libres." With a quick wink, he added, "Nice and strong."

Across the room, the DJ seamlessly transitioned the track playing into a new, heavier beat that thumped through the floor and furniture to shoot tiny ripples across the surface of a dozen half-finished cocktails. Devlin moved about the cluster of tables in front of the stage, searching patiently for any stray glances that invited an introduction. Turning toward one of the booths near the club entrance, he caught the eyes of a fennec fox. She sat wedged between a Doberman and two rabbits, the foursome appearing to compose some kind of double date. He waited for the vixen to avert her eyes, but the stare lingered even after the hint of surprise vanished from her face. She smiled coyly, a sea of emerald green sequins glittering across her breasts as she raised a hand to tickle the air. Devlin beamed and stepped forward, halting when the Doberman turned to shoot him an icy glare and shield his date with an arm placed protectively around her shoulders.

"So you're just gonna piss all over the poor girl, huh fella," Devlin muttered. He leisurely ran a hand through the carefully-styled mess of hair atop his head. A shiver of excitement charged up his spine--the hunt was always half the fun. Locking eyes with the other canine, he flashed his fangs in a predatory grin and mouthed the words, Bring it on.

As the night wore on, the half-empty club gradually filled nearer to capacity. Conversations between the patrons grew louder, as did the music. Miles deftly juggled bottles as the drink orders came pouring in, but always returned to chat with Gerald whenever a momentary lull gave him the chance. "Sorry about that," he said after one particularly busy rush. "So you're a musician?"

Gerald nodded. "Yeah, I play bass in a gr-rock band."

"What's a grr-ock band?"

"Heh, I almost called us a garage band, but my friend would go ballistic if he heard me say that."

Miles's laughter was bright and genuine, infectiously cheerful. "That's awesome, though! You guys are in an actual rock band. I thought you kinda had that look." He reached across the counter and groped Gerald's right bicep, his arm naked outside the vinyl vest draped over his broad chest. "Mm, bet you can shred one heck of an axe with muscles like these."

"Oh, well, you know. I do what I can." Gerald rubbed his arm bashfully and fluttered his eyelashes at the empty glass in front of him.

Naively believing that he was in fact the one seducing the bull, Miles continued to supply a stream of free drinks for Gerald and the empty seat beside him. Every so often, Devlin appeared in silence, moving with wraithlike fluidity as he swallowed the contents of each refill and replaced the glass without audibly disturbing the ice. Then, with or without a friendly touch of Gerald's shoulder, he would return to the jostling chaos of the space between the tables he'd helped transform into a dance floor. All the while he continued to watch the fennec fox and her bodyguard, waiting for an opening that never appeared.

When the hour grew late enough that the crowd of Heartthrob regulars began to thin, the shimmering facsimile of reality Devlin saw sharpened into focus with a distressing suddenness as he found himself facing the possibility of the Doberman running out the clock before he could make a move. He slapped feeling back into his cheeks and squared his shoulders. Eyes alight with determination, he slipped the DJ his last twenty along with a note scribbled on a napkin, then moved to one of the empty booths. Beneath the table, his hands unfastened the rhinestone-encrusted metal 'D' of his belt buckle and worked a pair of jeans and boxers down his squirming legs. He gave his stiffening cock a few quick strokes, pumping himself to a full hard-on in no time. With his free hand, he signaled to the otter stationed behind the turntables, who gave the side of his beanie a tug and hit a series of keys on his laptop. A second later, every speaker in the club pounded with the opening notes of "Tonight (I'm Fuckin' You)" by Enrique Iglesias.

Gerald recognized the tune immediately. He looked up from the urinal he was using to the speaker in the corner of the men's room. "Oh, Lord..."

"Hell yeah." The song's chorus marked Devlin's cue to rise to his feet, virtually naked save for the fur-lined coat over his bare chest. He lip-synced to music and sashayed toward the booth where his vixen sat waiting, four pairs of eyes enlarging to the size of what his balls felt like when they saw him approaching. This was the jackal's favorite form of gambling. He knew the near future most likely contained either a fuck or a fight--if he was lucky, he'd get one of each.

Gerald walked out of the restroom, saw his suspicions confirmed, and made a beeline for the bar. He caught Miles's attention right away, waving him down as he leaned over the counter. "Hey, you want to get out of here?"

The tiger became momentarily flustered. "Buh-- I... Yeah. Yeah! It's almost last call, let me just, uh, see if Wendy can close up."

"Fantastic. I know of this great all-night diner near the park..."

"Actually, my building is just a couple blocks from here. If you want, I can, y'know, fix you something?"

"I'd love that."

"Awesome!" Miles leaned in close and motioned toward a door marked 'Employees Only' behind him. "Walk straight through there to the rear exit," he whispered, "and I'll meet you out back as soon as I cash everybody out." He landed a peck on Gerald's blunt bovine snout before hurrying to finish his duties for the evening.

Gerald stood up, surprised both by the kiss and his reaction to it as he felt his face fill with a rush of heat. He looked toward the seating area and saw Devlin standing near the entrance, zipping up the fly of his jeans. He held the door open and bowed low in an overly elaborate "after you" gesture to a furious-looking Doberman cracking his knuckles. Close by, a fox and two rabbits exchanged worried glances amongst themselves. Gerald gave a sigh of relief when he watched the group exit the building, satisfied that whatever events followed would at least be less likely to result in a call to the authorities. Not wishing to involve himself further, he discreetly slipped out the back door into a narrow alleyway.

Miles joined him ten minutes later, panting out an apology Gerald declared unnecessary. They walked three and a half blocks beneath skyscrapers filled with windows as dark as the sky, chatting jovially about local landmarks and favorite lunch spots. By the time the elevator brought them to the fourth floor of an apartment building, the pair were a stumbling tangle of wet tongues wrestling to taste foreign mouths and arms snaking around each other to grope handfuls of bulging crotch. They twisted blindly down the empty hallway until Miles pulled away in front of his door, fumbling with the key for several seconds before he managed to stab the lock.

Gerald's head spun. He hadn't meant to pounce the other man so aggressively; it just happened. The elevator had just begun to rise, and amidst the sensation of lifting--that curious feeling of being pulled up with such swift and elegant motion as to ignore the force of gravity--he'd seen the tiger gaze up at the row of floor lights above the door with the trace of a smile spreading across his mouth, as if celebrating some small, private victory. In that moment, the desire for contact overwhelmed Gerald's brain. Every higher thought was steamrolled by some instinctual impulse that demanded he claim what was in front of him before it slipped away.

Miles disappeared into his apartment. Gerald stepped in after him, his mounting apprehension easing when the tiger waited for him to clear the reach of the door before pushing it shut behind him. "So... This is my place," he quietly announced with the flip of a light switch. The apartment was small but nicely furnished, homey and clean. "Would you, uh, like anything to drink?"

"Yeah." Gerald put his hands around the feline's face and pulled him into a kiss, gently this time, moaning as their lips met and opened around each other. He'd been nursing half an erection since the elevator, and after a minute of passionate Frenching, his tight pants tented obscenely as the material stretched against his uncomfortably hard manhood. Parting from the kiss, he whispered, "I'm sorry about... grabbing you earlier. I just--" The breath he needed to speak left him when he felt a hand sliding down the front of his pants.

"Don't be sorry," Miles said. "I'm a little pent-up, too." His fingers brushed the warmth of Gerald's sizable cock, claws tracing lightly along the flesh. He removed all but one finger, leaving it hooked in the waist of the bull's pants as he pulled him through the apartment.

A dress shirt and a tank top hit the floor as soon as the men entered the bedroom. Miles pressed his naked chest against Gerald's, their mouths joining for another kiss as hands wandered to undo each other's pants. Gerald moaned at the exquisite feeling of his cock springing free from the tight confines of his pants, the constricting vinyl replaced by a warm hand gently wrapping around his shaft. A pair of slacks dropped around Miles's feet a moment later. The tiger held Gerald's throbbing cock in place as he pressed their erections together. Clear pearls of precum expanded and burst to glide down the underside of each shaft, mixing as they ground against each other.

Miles reached to cup the bull's impressively hefty balls, their size eclipsing his own by several times despite the difference between the size of their cocks being far less substantial. "God, these are huge," he moaned.

"Guess I need to be milked," Gerald said with a grin. His hands fell to grasp palmfuls of furry tiger ass, pulling his hips slightly forward as their erections rubbed together. Miles closed his fingers around both cocks to stroke them simultaneously. Pre flowed copiously from the large head of the bull's cock, spilling onto Miles's slightly shorter length and down both engorged rods of flesh to lube the quickening handjob. Miles growled lustfully into the kiss as his tongue scooped Gerald's saliva into his throat. With every passing second his movements became more excited, his heart pounding against the wall of his chest hard enough for Gerald to feel in his.

Gerald winced as he felt the faint beginnings of orgasm tingling in the base of his crotch. The tiger was quickly succumbing to impatience, masturbating them with fast, pounding strokes with the obvious goal of triggering a double cum geyser. When the urgency in his movements reached a boil, Gerald broke contact and took a step back. "Whoa there," he gasped, pausing to catch his breath. "Let's slow it down just a little."

"Sorry, I got--"

"Don't be sorry." Gerald squeezed his slick cock from base to tip, producing a thick strand of pre that drooled onto the pile of his pants. "That was amazing. Just didn't want to lose that edge so soon." He stepped forward and stuck his tongue out for the tiger to lick and suck before joining their mouths again. "Sthink we--ahhm--got more--mmm--fun'ta have."

Miles simply breathed in the scent of their combined arousal when Gerald pulled away. His eyes fluttered close, only to shoot open a moment later when a hand gave his ass a powerful slap. He turned to see Gerald grinning playfully. The bull tossed his vest over the back of a chair and climbed onto the bed on all fours, his hooves hanging over the side. He looked back at Miles and licked his lips invitingly before giving his own rump a hard smack.

Miles lightly stroked himself as he knelt beside the bed, putting his face inches from the bull's fat balls. He nosed each of the huge ovals, inhaling the rich musk, then licked the warm, leathery sack until it glistened with wetness. Standing, he moved the rope-like length of tail aside to marvel at the erotic sight of Gerald's rear. Solid, brawny thighs widened into the shapely curves of toned buttocks, the meat soft and yielding over muscles trained hard as granite. Miles smeared the head of his cock over the spit-shined scrotum, up the long bulge of taint to settle against the crinkled pucker. He stopped breathing as he pushed his weight forward, watching his cock sink inside Gerald's hot ass, the ring of flesh stretching around his shaft. Fresh air returned to his lungs in a long, shuddering gasp as Gerald clenched his muscles to pull the invading phallus deeper into his eager hole.

"Thaaat's it," Gerald moaned softly. "All the way in."

A wave of pure bliss washed over Miles's brain as he felt his balls press against Gerald's taint and continued to push forward, trying to cram nonexistent inches of his cock deeper into the moist tunnel. He stopped, pulled back, then sprung his hips forward again. The feline was already so close from the frotting session that every thrust sent a crackling spark of pleasure surging through his pelvis to make his tail involuntarily jerk and spasm behind him.

His nose pressed against the bedspread, Gerald grunted, "Don't worry about being gentle. Go as hard as you want."

Freshly emboldened, Miles gripped Gerald's ass and slammed into him, driving the whole of his frame into each vigorous buck. His cock hammered the clenching hole with enough force to whip his fluids into a creamy froth. His every sense heightened as he drew nearer to the point of no return, the sights and sounds and smells of sex so vividly clear his mind became overloaded. Sweat coated the skin under his coat of striped fur. The air itself felt like thousands of hands caressing his body with the lightest feather touch of ethereal fingers, teasing his inability to distract himself. He wanted to luxuriate inside this full-body pleasure for hours, but his resolve was crumbling. He watched the pools of shadow moving across Gerald's back as his shoulders heaved, heard him groan from deep within the great chamber of his chest. In an act of surrender, Miles unclenched his stomach muscles and hilted himself inside the other male. The force of orgasm hit him like a bullet train, stars exploding behind his eyes and his knees buckling beneath him.

Gerald stiffened and held himself steady as the tiger's full weight nearly shoved him over the side of the bed. He felt the cock inside his ass twitch hard, then came the marvelous sensation of liquid warmth spreading through his bowels. Pleasure mixed with discomfort as feline claws dug into the sides of his hips.

When the almost painfully intense contractions in his groin finally subsided, Miles let out a trembling sigh of satisfaction. His claws retracted and his fingers pulled back across the velvety texture of the bull's skin, reveling in the realness of the body against his. Strength returned to his legs enough that they could again support his weight. As he straightened, droplets of perspiration ran down his whiskers to dangle from the tips like jewels. He reached down to caress the hard bumps of Gerald's abs. "Are you close?"

Gerald swallowed. "Really close."

Miles moved his hand down to the bull's cock. He could feel the beat of his heart pulsating through the thick shaft. His hand made long strokes, slow and massaging at first, then picking up speed until his fist roughly fucked the raging length from head to base.

The stimulation quickly brought Gerald near to climax--nearer still when another hand rubbed and fondled his balls. "Mmmnn!" he rumbled. "M'gonna make a mess all over your bed...!"

"It's fine, I'll wash it tomorrow. Come on stud, cum for me!" Miles recognized the signs when he noticed Gerald tense suddenly and felt the slick walls of his ass tighten. He gripped Gerald's cock just behind the flared ridges of his mushroom head and clenched his fist rhythmically.

Wordless sounds croaked out of Gerald's throat as he his pleasure peaked, taken once more by that sensation of lifting--that ineffable feeling of being pulled upward even as the tiger held him firmly and intimately in place. Long, white ropes of bovine jizz splattered across bedspread below his quaking torso. Half a dozen full shots were followed by several weaker spurts, then a light, steady dribble as Miles continued to milk out as much cum as he could get from the meaty cock. When Gerald sucked in air through a set of clenched teeth, Miles knew he'd reached the point of uncomfortable sensitivity. He hesitantly relinquished his grip and stepped back. His own half-hard member slid out of the bull's ass ahead of dribble of cum, a small amount of his load escaping down Gerald's thighs before his stretched asshole slowly squeezed shut.

The mattress squeaked as Gerald collapsed lengthwise across the bed with a contented sigh. Miles lay down beside him, pulling him into a sensual kiss. For a long while, they relaxed there together, basking in the quietly magnificent comfort of afterglow. Eventually, light touches and gentle whispers gave way to still silence as Miles drifted off.

Gerald flipped onto his back, tranquil but not ready for sleep. He was contemplating a trip to the kitchen for a snack when a buzzing noise rose up from the floor. He looked to the feline lying beside him. Miles's eyes remained shut and his chest continued the subtle motions of rising and falling, the rhythm of his breathing unchanged. Gerald moved off the bed as quietly as possible and retrieved his phone from his pants, squinting to read a number he didn't recognize. He slipped into the bathroom and carefully shut the door behind him. "Hello?"

"Gerald!" Devlin's voice answered. "Hey man, where are you?"

"Hey, D. I'm in... somebody's apartment."

"Somebod-- Oh! Stripes the bartender?"

The bull took a seat on the closed lid of the toilet and chuckled softly. "Yeah."

"Nice work. He looked like a real cutie."

"Knows how to have some fun, too. And he's a sweetheart. Said I could spend the night and he'd fix breakfast in the morning."

"Fucking A, that is adorable."

Gerald chuckled again. "So where are you?"

"Man, you are not going to believe this. I am calling"--he paused for dramatic emphasis--"from a real-life payphone."

"A payphone?"

"I shit you not. It's near the corner of Adler and Main. I didn't even know they had payphones anymore! There must be only three or four left in the entire city. I just had to try it out."

"Wow. So what happened? Last I saw, you were putting on a show for some poor girl and her boyfriend didn't take kindly."

"Yeah. Things didn't exactly pan out."

"You lose the fight?"

"Ha! You're a comedian. I kicked that poser's ass, and that was after I gave him a free shot to get things going." Devlin touched a finger to the end of his muzzle, testing to confirm the blood had ceased trickling from his nose and dried into his fur. "Here's the fucked up part, though: The second I lay him out on the pavement, his gal pal runs over practically in tears to kiss his boo-boos and tell me I'm some kind of bully. She's probably humping him back to health as we speak."

"Tough break. Cold shower, then?"

"You kidding? It's only a little after three--the night is still young. I've got plenty of numbers to call. In fact, I just had a fun idea. If you're not too worn out, how about I call Zig and see if he's up for a little three-way action?"

Gerald leaned back against the porcelain tank, entertaining the idea with a low moan that gradually rose in pitch. A familiar itch returned between his legs, making his cock swell. "Maybe..." he said more to himself than the phone. His eyes turned to the bathroom door, his mind conjuring an image of the tiger sleeping soundly behind it.

"So what's the deal? You in?"

"Yeah. I'll come over if Zig's interested." He nodded, securing confidence in his decision. "But I can't stay too late. I've got a date for breakfast."