Who Lurks in the Locker Room
Uh oh...what's a martial arts orca to do when a naughty tiger finds him in the locker room?
Who Lurks in the Locker Room
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Oh boy.
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York was still properly chuffed when he disappeared into the corridor leading into the locker rooms, and the buzz of the happy post-fight crowd faded away in his hears. The orca was full of himself, and he did not feel bad about it at all. He felt he deserved it after such a successful fight.
Keh keh keh.
That cocky rhino hadn't stood a chance against the orca in the Muay Thai ring. An aggressive smirk spread over York's lips while he remembered giving the guy an ass kicking to remember.
Another victory for The Fishbone, York thought.
That guy was such a wuss, was his opinion, stomping down the peacefully empty hallway in just his Muay Thai apparel of pads, flamboyantly red training shorts of shiny fabric and two simple ribbons, one yellow on his left arm, a green on the other, as simple symbols of his craft. Besides that he carried the sweat of the fight and the exhilarating feeling that came from victory and the sheer physicality of jumping around the ring and delivering countless kicks and chops to ensure that the so-called Golden Horn would not be celebrating tonight. The rhino had quickly disappeared into the showers once the match was over and he was beaten. York felt no pity. The guy had been so full of himself that even the cocky orca paled in comparison. The Golden Horn's ego probably needed a locker room of its own.
York stepped into the aforementioned bastion of masculinity and smelly jockstraps, and found it deserted. Clearly the rhino had already left to lick at his wounds in some other venue. That put an extra swing to the orca's long, finned tail. Gloating might've been fun, but the fact he'd actually left made the orca think that he'd been even more pissed off by his loss to the killer whale.
He whistled, though off-key and the air had a tendency to escape from his blowhole instead. York felt like he'd deserved a good shower and a stiff drink of cinnamon whiskey for his successful match.
" Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap."
He was mystified by the noise. It was coming from the shower room and amplified by its tiled walls.
"Hello?" York called curiously.
The clapping continued. York honked out. His great mood wasn't quite that easily ruined but he didn't like feeling puzzled. It made him feel like a dumb jock, and while he was jock, he didn't like to think he was dumb.
"What a fantastic fight..." a voice sussurred amidst the clapping.
Someone emerged from the open door into the shower room. This individual wore a pair of black pants so tight they might've as well been made of Spandex, and the shirt could barely be called that. The outrageous red bow tie about his neck only finished the look, and it was enough to make York do a double take. He did not appear the sort who came to watch Muay Thai fights, not in the least. York would've expected someone like that to come across in a wholly different kind of a place.
"Uh...what the hell?" the orca rumbled.
The tiger finished his ölazy clapping and let his paws fall to his sides while he kept his eyes very keenly at the orca.
"Your footwork was very admirable," the tiger said, "that ridiculous_hippo_had no chance against you."
York honked again.
"I don't think you should be here, dude..." the orca said.
"On the contrary..." the tiger murmured .His accent was slight but noticeably foreign, although not something that York could place to any particular place.
York didn't feel intimidated. He knew that he could take down pretty much anything thrown at him, or anyone. The tiger was slight in comparison to him, and did not look like a fighter.
The orca could think of _many_things the cat did look like, but he did not voice these thoughts while he had his surprise staring contest with the softly spoken male.
"...I very much always intended to be in your locker room...." the tiger mused.
York wondered if this was some kind of a weird ass stalker fan. He'd known some people who'd randomly been bombarded with messages and sexy photos and all sorts of weird shit on their Facebook and the like. This tiger did not look familiar. He couldn't even remember seeing this guy in the audience during the fight. Then again, there were so many lights, and he had been pumped up and buzzed for the actual grapple to pay too much attention to the crowd. He mostly enjoyed their cheers and chants, the kind of energy that it put into his system.
He decided to play it nice, or at least about as nice as he could bother to, considering the odd circumstances.
"Well if you are looking for an autograph, you really should've waited a bit longer, dude," York said. "I think you should go out and, you know, wait..."
The tiger swung his tail behind his as he walked with his squeaking pants and all and approached York.
"I think I want something that yours but not really your autograph..." the cat said. He was now much closer, having emerged from the shower room and into the locker room proper.
York's tail fin jerked.
"Well - "
The tiger moved very fast. He grabbed the front of York's red shorts and squeezed on where he knew the orca's dormant cock should have resided. York let out a surprised honk at such a sensation. The tiger's annoyingness seemed to have been replaced by utter boldness, and now he groped the killer whale without concern.
Even more so, York felt his flesh responding to the touch from the cheekily grinning tiger. The cat looked pleased, and his whiskers softly moved with the rumbling breaths he drew.
"Much more of a personal reminder than an autograph or a selfie," the tiger commented.
"Dude - " York muttered.
The tiger was down on his knees in an instant. His paws were remarkbly quick in untying the cord that kept York's shorts up, and then the heavy elastic was slipped down to reveal the jockstrap the orca wore under his flamboyantly red shorts. The jock was a simple white one, made of an elastic mesh, a sporty model that'd seen many fights and endless hours of training worn by the killer orca at the gym. Right now the knit pouch on the front showed a considerable amount of swelling from his erection.
"Name's Deux, by the way..." the tiger purred the moment before his lips touched the orca's mound and he began to worship it with his nuzzles and his muzzle in general.
York tried to keep back the honk that the further warm contact brought out. He looked down to see the top of the tiger's head and a flicky ear while the striped feline continued to worship on the altar of the kick boxer's groin.
"Ohhh..."
His paws gripped onto the hefty, firm globes of York's rump and fondled them too while he played with the bulge at the front of the jock. He couldn't deny that it felt good, and sexy, and the whole strangeness of the situation added to the arousal the orca experienced. He'd heard that some other fighters had groupies of sorts, but none of the same sex variety that was now slurping at his orcacock with obvious reverie.
Whoever this Deux guy was, he seemed to know a thing or two about dick, as well as orca butts, too, since the heavy kneading of his paws against the orca's ass made his tail fin swing rapidly. It felt really good, after the workout of the fight, and now the tiger practically massaged him in a way that was wonderful for the slightly sore muscles, besides being sensual as well.
"Wow..."
The orca put his hand against the top of the tiger's head.
"You gonna just...nuzzle it?" York questioned.
Deux gave him a look complete with pursed lips.
"Do you think I am an amateur?" he grinned. "Can't a tiger just enjoy a fine bulge musk before he dips in for a taste?"
He pushed his fingers under the orca's elastic, and snapped it. York honked.
"Hey!"
"Aren't you sensitive..." the tiger purred.
"And you're - ooHHH!"
The tiger tugged down the orca's jock. The surprise move caused the kickboxer's dick to flop out and practically slap the naughty cat's muzzle.
"Hmmmm..." the cat rumbled in approval.
York's cock flexed reflexively at the feel of the fuzzy muzz against his slickened, long tool. The dirtily purring tiger was definitely smiling at the feel of being moderately cock slapped by the orca.
"That's better," Deux said," now I can suck it...hmm...freshly unpacked fish..."
"I'm not a fish!" York honked, partially as a jest but the feel of very slippery tongue and lips on him made him lose the remaining verbal faculties he had.
"Ohffff..." the orca hissed.
The tiger's tongue was murder on the orca's burgeoning libido. His apparently bottomless muzzle slurped down on most of the fighter whale's tool while those fuzzy paws played with his balls and the crack of his butt. His tail fin flapped and his paws clenched briefly into fists.
"Wow..."
The tiger purred around the meat in his maw and sent the orca into another series of near-honks when the sussurring maw slid back and forth on his sweaty length. He did not appear to mind the taste...in fact he was making it more and more wet with his endlessly slippery tongue. The orca's physical arousal over the fight turned quickly into a purely erotic one, and his churning balls knew only one purpose.
The orca wanted to get off, and with such a warm, wet receptacle at paw , he couldn't hold it back. York humped into the hot, mobile maw, his eyes falling closed, consequences be damned!
Those evil fingers rubbed into his taint and tugged on his balls. It felt like an attempt at milking every single drop out of York's virile body, and the fighting whale knew that there was no point in fighting it for any length of time.
"Ohhhhhrrr..." the orca clicked eagerly.
Deux took the dick suddenly being jammed deeper into his muzzle without a hitch. His mischievous paws felt the tension growing in the strong young fighter's body, much like his tongue received the throbs of the delicious shaft buried up to the hilt. York's churring reached an almost deafening crescendo, with his tail fin batting the floor at the moment his body rolled with tension and then expended itself.
"Hmmmmrrr..."
Deux's delighted purr trembled through the cock that jerked and spewed cum over his tongue and into his suckling throat. His fingers felt even further contractions of York's body while he encouraged everything out of the proud, horny fighter.
"Hrrr...deliciious."
The orca didn't have time to react between Deux slurping away from his dick and then sticking his tongue into the surprised fighter's maw. York let out a surprised huff at the taste of himself being put onto his tongue so suddenly.
"Guh!"
Deux grinned and licked his own lips.
"You don't taste like cod liver oil at all..." he mused. "Twitter claims it's the secret to your speed and strength..."
York honked.
"What the fuck," he huffed.
The cummy-lipped tiger reached for York's still erect shaft and gave it a slick tug. York let out a surprised honk.
"Ugh!" he muttered.
"Tsk...sensitive! I didn't kneel you in the groin, I just played with it a little..."
Both of them looked down at the stiff dick in question. The cock was still very hard and obviously barely sated, even with the recent, quite toe-curling blowjob the tiger had applied to this member.
"Who the hell are you?" York asked.
"I told you," the tiger blew him a kiss, "my name is Deux...and I'm a big fan of big boys like you..."
York honked.
"You're still somewhere you shouldn't be, dude," he said.
Deux chuckled.
"Even with the muzzle I gave you?"
"I don't know who put you up for it!" York complained.
"I did...I arranged this all by myself..." Deux purred.
York scowled.
"You're fishy," he said.
"I could say the same thing about you, fishboy," Deux said.
York rolled his eyes. Deux winked.
"I've got a room at the Grand...penthouse...drinks, food, everything delivered to the room...jacuzzi..." the tiger murmured," everything a weary fighter could need to unwind properly after a match."
The tiger grabbed the orca's dick again. York let out a huff.
"...consider that muzzlejob...something to take the edge off till I get you to a place where we can have some proper fun..."
The fingers playing with York's cock made it hard to think about anything at all.
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