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That Good Old Fashioned

By Laz Briar

Get a guy tipsy and he wants it all. Good.

Ozzie remembered when he first dated Anson, how reserved and kept together his boyfriend was. He understood, of course, and there were plenty of reasons for it. After you get hit hard on an emotional front, you tend to put the pieces back together and keep your guard up. You won't wanna' break again. But, part of that “guard" meant Anson didn't always let himself go, or explore, or get wild. He was a boyscout, at least early into their relationship.

Well, actually, a good chunk of it. The first year was a lot of rebuilding, talking, exploring, that kind of thing. Ozzie was a different draw of the hand, so to speak, because Anson had never met anyone quite like him. Oz wasn't a shy boy, he was a rowdy yeendog. Perfume and spiked collars, knives and cologne, death metal and romance. To put your trust in someone like that was asking a lot, at least initially. And, oh, sure, Ozzie acted the professional – you'd never know the suit-and-tie selling Songbird services preferred lace g-strings and leather jackets after the fact. But once that button-up layer peeled off, you had someone else.

Someone Anson loved.

Through that love, Ozzie nurtured him out of his “kept together" uncertainties. Not to say he changed his human partner, just he helped him get comfortable, with himself. Ozzie had plenty of history, different boyfriends, a personal career of fistfights and flamboyance. Where Ozzie's idea of a fun night might be shaking his bare ass while spraypainting a wall, Anson was more “make dinner and have bills paid a month in advance." Because of that, Anson wasn't quite as liberal with his sexuality, so to speak.

Ozzie had trouble with that one, early in. It was part not getting humans and their roundabout nature of doing things, and part not quite understanding Anson's upbringing. He was from a traditional, human-centric, protective, neatly conservative family. Anson went to a private religious school and his only serious gay relationship – with Jasper – ended bad. A lot of shame, concern, and self-doubt was built into those years and layers, enough Anson barely thought about his own needs beyond an emotional level.

Basically, it was a long way of saying it took a little work to turn Anson into a horny bastard.

He mentioned several times he didn't want to “hurt" Ozzie or “mistreat," to which the yeendog thought all that was pretty cute. On one because, no offense to his guy, Anson couldn't physically hurt the chimera if he was dead set on it. And the mistreatment? God, cute, really cute. Guess Oz figured the logic – it was easy to take advantage of someone (in Ansy's mind) that was so giving. Anson found it baffling early into their relationship – the submissive aspect – as in how could one be so generous with themselves?

But as the year went on and they moved into their own place and kept learning about each other, these reservations slipped away. Mostly. Anson still needed some work, needed teases and pushes to get him “in the mood," but it was worth it. Challenging. A guy who dropped and fucked in the blink of an eye probably wouldn't have much in em', but Anson? Ooh, melting away his exterior to expose that raw, wanting sonofabitch was fun.

Make no mistake, Ozzie loved his guy, deathly so. Anson took care of him, made him feel safe, important. Wanted and demanded and needed. He could trust him, and pour all his problems and concerns into Anson and get genuine, helpful responses. So, sucking his man's dick was one-hundred times better. Making Anson moan in a state of bliss was like liquor, and Ozzy wanted to get dizzy on that. Seeing him happy, in a mode of physical bliss, god it felt right. Sure, some ego involved – knowing he could get a cock so fucking hard like that – but primarily it was about his lover gettin' off.

So, yeah. The drink helped.

Oh, Anson, you cute lightweight. “Couldn't have been more than three beers, babe."

“Hah," gave a mildly slurred laugh. “I'm just being careful, is all."

The pair stumbled – well no, actually, Anson stumbled – out of The Knuckle, a rowdy dive in the thick of Dogtown perfect for couples looking to knock back a few shiners to some grungy background music. Ozzie suggested it given he was feeling a specific kinda way – going all leather jacket tonight, and he even got Anson in some appropriate clothes for the occasion too.

Now, really, this was an excuse so Ozzie could toss on his spiked leather collar and wristbands, among things, but hey, it worked. Anson had a few drinks (Ozzie had a lot) and his man was easing out of his “humf, humf, must stay professional" persona.

But three beers? Anson had enough sense he didn't want to put himself into a stupor. Considering the many Oz tossed back, this was good. Their solution? Motel convenience, right across the way. Love hotel, specifically, kinda' like the one Oz took Anson to on their second date. It was a little silly to Ozzie, seeing Ansy-wansy get fuzzy from just a few, but that was his boy, always thinking safety first.

Until they crossed the street and waltzed passed an alley. Anson stopped, chuckling. “Wait. . . wait. . . hah, I don't think' I'll make it. . ."

Ozzie glanced, ears flagged in concern. “Whoa, what? You okay hon? We can sit down for a sec if ya' need to."

Anson shook his head. “No, no, no, not what I mean. . ."

Ozzie blinked. His nose flared and oh fuck he could smell that. Unfiltered human arousal, crashing into his olfactory like a tidal wave. His boy just went from zero to sixty. Fucker was horny! Shit, when was the last time he was so into it? Probably back on the beach when he smoked the first time?

Needless to say, this excited Ozzie, because Anson was staring at him with those desperate eyes. “Heh," chuckled the yeendog, “We're almost there."

“Ugh, fuck that," groused Anson. He turned to the lithe yeendog, pressing hands to Oz's hips, kissing muzzle. “Definitely not gonna' make it."

Ozzie's heart fluttered and his tail swayed, leaning into the hot kiss. Anson pressed into his hips and uh, yeah, he felt him. “Nggh," groaned Anson. “Right now."

Oz pushed back enough so he could speak. “Nnh? What?"

Oh, he knew what. Or at least, had an idea. But he wanted his Anson to say it, to demand and command. Not just oh-gosh-gee-shucks ask, fucking tell the boy what to do.

“Ugh, you know what," intoned Anson, a hand squeezing Ozzie's backside. “Suck my cock, goddammit. In that alley, right now, on your knees, Oz!"

Ozzie yipped with laughs, the words setting his frame ablaze like pitch to fire. Mmf, naughty, needy Anson. That's what he hoped for, that's what he wanted to hear. Get his mans a little tipsy and suddenly he wanted Ozzy gulping cock. Obviously, Oz was happy to oblige, and him being a few fingers of hard liquor into a buzz helped a shitload. In the meantime, Oz looked over to the side and snickered.

“Mmf, mind if I just squat, Ans? Knees on the concrete kinda' hurts."

Anson huffed. “Does it get you slobbering my balls faster?"

Hoholy shit, guy was a firecracker tonight. Ozzie winked. “Yes it does. Can do it longer too."

He took Anson by the hand and tucked him into the alley. It was dim enough to hide them, bright enough to see. A little.

“Aww," Ozzie pouted in faux whine. “But you won't get to see the gloss I wore."

Anson blinked, fuzzy. “H-huh?"

“Black lipstick, on your dick, baby. Streaks?"

Anson gave a long, pained groan, very obvious that was a sight he would've loved. “Well shit."

“Relaaaax," cooed Ozzie, nosing his partner's neck, smooching with affectionate nibbles. “There's still the fuck-joint down the road. I'm sure those nuts have plenty for me tonight, eh?"

Liquor and arousal went as well as gas on fire. Ozzie could fucking hold his drink, but even he was feeling the buzz. The sloppy, sordid commands issued from his man combined with his own roaming – frankly slutty – imagination were pushing him into overdrive. Liquor loosened everything, mind, mouth, hole, and made for such a devious pairing. In the heart of Dogtown, no less.

Yeah, Ozzie wanted to be a big slut for his man tonight. He was happy Anson was finally getting into it. Nothing wrong with letting go for a while!

Anson managed a smile as Oz tugged him into the alley. “Do yours?" he commented as the yeendog pushed his partner into the wall with gentle force.

Oz's ears wiggled. “Prooobably," he cooed. Well heck, Anson was all about it tonight, huh?

He didn't waste time, though, slipping down in graceful fashion, bent at the knee – though not on the hard ground. Could've pulled it off if he had his boot heels, but for now, like he said, squatting would suffice. And hey, it gave Anson a little view of his fat pert ass, so there was that.

Anson gasped as his boyfriend pulled him free with a few diligent motions, the rough unzipping met with a pleasant 'ooh' as Ozzie eyed bulge. Hidden behind briefs, the yeendog pressed his nose forward, mouthing at it the dimensions, sipping the scent of his lover, the indistinguishable aroma of Anson's masculine heat.

An approving hand came to rest on Oz's head, fingers petting frosted mane. “Nmf."

Nmf? He'd get more than that! Ozzie pulled Anson free, cock twitching into the night, hardening. It twitched and danced in front of Ozzie's muzzle, where the 'yena licked his chops in anticipation.

“Don't you dare," grunted Anson. “You suck my goddamn nuts first!"

Hee, like Oz planned to do differently anyway. Still, heat flooded into his face, prodding his own cock to life. God, when Anson dropped the boyscout something else came out, and Ozzie loved it.

“Oh yes sir," obliged Ozzie, swiftly pushing his canid lips into the soft testes. He smooched and kissed them with dutiful besses, his long flat tongue slipping from muzzle to lap at the orbs. Long, slow strokes followed after, tedious licks that dragged the bulge along his mouth. He made such a show of it, soft green eyes gazing upward while one hand rested on Anson's waist, whipping his tongue in horizontal swipes.

“Blehm," Ozzie mumbled, opening his maw wide and letting the fat pair rest on the wet, pink rug. “Mwah."

“Fucking yes," hissed Anson, head arching while he leaned into the wall, gripping Ozzie's mane hard. “Ghn, you love it, don't you?"

Funny how drunk and horny turned you into Shakespeare. Sober Anson never spoke like this, of course, very proper and whatnot. It was an extra bit of turn of for Ozzie, knowing that he could push his boyfriend to this, get him over the sexual edge.

Ozzie responded with several kisses, smack after smack leaving glazed imprints of his mouth on the sac, the balls a dribbling, glistening mess. “Mmmmhm, hon you know it."

Here, the shaft rest on his head, a comfortable spot while Ozzie continued to tease the testes. “I love suckin' my man's nuts. Among things."

A hurried, hot grunt. “Well get to those things, would you?"

Ozzie watched Anson's blurred expression. Yeah, he was eager all right. Normally before Anson boinked his boy – or whatever they did – it was padded with lots of romance and hot-whispers and “I love you's." Which, obviously, Ozzie was head over paws for. Anson was sweet and kind and passionate. But, they didn't need to wine-and-candle it every time, sometimes a dirty, raw fuck was just perfect. Tonight, Ozzie knew – Anson wanted the yeendog to be his twinky, slutty cock-sleeve. To just toss aside pretenses and go. After a few drinks in the chest of Dogtown? Holy shit, why not. And, it had the added benefit of pushing those raw, primal buttons. Ozzie was male, sure, but something about being the subby, servile pup was. . . right. Bred, claimed, fucked, owned, those were all raw, powerful core aspects of his genetic instinct, and right now Anson was dialing right into them.

Funny, things considered. Ozzie was lithe, sure, but he was still the stronger of the pair, yet he whimpered and begged like a bitch. Suited him just fine.

Oz nosed the tip of Anson's cock, letting it run across his features. His human mate took the opportunity to showcase his dominance – or maybe pursue a little fantasy. Meaning, he took his length and smacked it hard across Ozzie's cheek, whapping it against the soft fur. Oz chuckled, leaning into it.

“Mnfm, how'm I gonna suck you off if you keep doing that, Ansy?"

Anson grunted. “Had to remind you who you belonged to."

Oooh, that was interesting. Very chimera, natural and instinct driven. Ozzie's hybrid makeup meant his kind – anthropoid hybrids – were more animal in the mateship sense. Yes, lots of relationship development, but their foundation was “me, you, fuck, me own you." In a strange sense, it also made Ozzie comfortable. If Anson “claimed and owned" him, Anson would protect him, take care of him, all that. He'd done it for a good year just by getting Oz's finances in order, among things, but uh, having his partner go balls deep was nice too.

“Nnn?" grinned Ozzie, letting the stiff cock smack him again, the tip shoved into his silky cheek fur, like he was getting marked. “Your puppy, mm?"

“My Ozzie," corrected Anson, patting his partner's head. Here, he pushed his tip into Oz's lips. “Kiss."

Was hard to believe Anson was so coherent after all the booze, but hey, the yeendog wasn't complaining. Orders and commands? Shoulda' just brought a leash! He had the spiked choker, after all.

Ozzie obliged, wrapping his hot lips around the bellend for an affectionate smooch, coupled with a soft moan to vibrate the flesh with his oral grasp. His glazed lips left trails of saliva, leaving a faint track of black lipmarks where he touched. He did the rest, smothering the shaft with yet more kisses til' it glistened, the graffiti of a cock slut.

“Mwfh," Ozzie grumbled, popping away from the length. “Told ya' hon, can't see what I'm doing. Shoulda' waaaited."

Anson heaved, too aroused to care anymore. “Whatever," he managed. “Just suck, Oz, suck!"

“Hey, you're the one who wanted me to get all fancy, smart ass."

Man didn't know what he wanted. A show first or a good time? Heh. Well, Ozzie was glad his mouth had the desired effect, gripping Anon's hot inches in his soft palm, and god he was needy. Presex dribbled, throbbing dick, practically twitching in his grip. All the levers of control were yanked off, leaving only a horny, vaguely drunk man with his equally aroused boyfriend.

But if he didn't work this cock over Anson would make a mess of his fur, and jizz was such a pain to clean off – at least in the open. Better to save that for the “love" joint. In the meantime, though.

“Smmmf. . ."

Oz slipped the inches into his slobbering maw, a warm, hot envelope of vacuum suction. Not too tight or too soft, perfect. He knew Anson's framework, the nuances of his boy's cock. He was extra sensitive on the sides and he always got a pleased shiver when he dipped down and took one, slow lick from nuts to crown. If fit into his muzzle like a glove and, often, Ozzie wondered if Anson was literally made for him. It was so fun, because Ansy was neither too big or small, meaning he could play with it like a toy. Shove it into his throat and gag? Sure. Gently nuzzle and worship it? Absolutely.

He settled on the good ol' fashioned though, a toss of his head, keeping those smooth, hot lips wrapped nice and tight. Each slurp incurred a long, satisfied moan from Anson, who ushered him forward with a harder grip. Ozzie giggled, humming as he did, keeping his wide eyes upward, wiggling backside. He really wanted to lean into the submissive, slutty pup mode tonight – or at least, more than usual.

“Ugh, Ozzie, good boy," uttered Anson, having shed his shell. “You love it, huh?"

Hot words like music to the 'yena's ears. He fluttered his eyelids, grey tail wagging, popping the shaft loose as sticky trails of saliva bridged tip to mouth. “Mmmhmm. . . when do I not?"

A rough chuckle. “Work?"

Ozzie panted and grinned, tapping the tip against his tongue. “Naw, thatsa' lie too, man, I'd slobber your dick under the desk if you'd let me."

“. . .maybe next time."

He'd hold Anson to that. In the meantime, though, back to work. Ozzie assaulted the inches with another flurry of submissive suckles, outright pressing Anson into the wall. The human countered by thrusting back, slowly at first. Then, rhythm gave way. Ozzie could feel the throbbing, twitching peak growing closer, and how Anson's momentum shifted. Instead of taking it, now he was giving it. In response, Oz slowed his motions, rather, allowing his mate to buck into his throat like a nice, convenient sleeve.

And fuck this got Ozzie hard. “Gmmmmm!"

It was one thing to have work his mouth on his man, another thing entirely to have his throat taken and fucked. It dug deep into his sexually subby nature, granting him a sense of warmth, fullness, completion. He couldn't explain it, exactly. Felt right. As a result, his ebon cock whirled to life, fighting against his panties (yes, panties). He braced himself as Anson gripped him by the sides, adjusting, then, like a drunken, sloppy animal, banged his loins into Oz's mouth.

The yeendog choked and gagged and sputtered but graciously accepted his lover's assault. The tip plunged into his throat, rivers of presex and dribble flooding from lips, forming sticky pools on the concrete. All Oz could do was listen to his guy groan and get banged. Worked for him.

“Ohbabyfuck," hissed Anson, shivering, shuddering, buckling. Like a storm, he hit peak, a torrent of white, sticky seed bursting from his tip and flooding Ozzie's mouth. The 'yena desperately took as much as he could – partly for sexual reasons, partly because he really didn't want this stuff on his nice conditioned fur and clothes.

He whimpered, accepting the ropes of white, watching Anson reach peaks of ecstasy. Then, as abruptly as he came, he settled, rasping and collecting himself.

“Holy shit, baby," Anson wheezed while the 'yena gently slipped the softening cock from his throat. “You're fucking amazing."

“Mmmm," Ozzie hummed, kissing the tip. “My man liked?"

“I fucking love you," rasped the horny animal, causing Oz to chuckle.

“Guess that's a yes."

Anson wiped his head, zipping up. “It's your turn, you know."

That caught Ozzie off guard. He stood, stretching his legs, tilting head at the recovering Anson. “Mm?"

“Not fuckin' done with you," chuckled his mate. “Love hotel, remember?"

Ozzie laughed again. “You sure? You want a breather?"

“Hey! I can fuck all night!"

Oz shuddered. That was an exciting prospect, though he had his doubts. In the meantime, sampling Ansy's dick was a nice appetizer, and the flavor of his jizz a nice chaser. He had to wonder what Ansy was planning. . .

-*-

It was astonishing how few questions were asked when Ozzie and Anson lumbered their way into the “hotel." The receptionist could see their desire to raw-fuck as plain as the day, wordlessly assigning them a rental after they paid. After that, the two stumbled and hung off the other until shuffling their way into the rented interior – a simple thing with a city-side view and single bed.

Anson, good on his word, kissed Ozzie's neck, caressing his sides. “Fuck, you're beautiful."

“I do try," said Oz, tail wiggling.

“Mm. Must be drunk," commented Anson, looking his boy over. “Been thinking about you all day."

Oz's grey cheeks flushed. “Oh. Hah. Well, Ansy, we do live together."

Anson tilted his head, still flushed from the alcohol. “Naw, I mean, I kept dreaming about your fat ass riding me all the time. That's how I know I'm drunk."

Oho, blew one load and he was still horny as a horse? Damn, where was this Anson? Oz was gonna' have to keep a few brews on hand when they wanted to get wild.

“Mm. . . you did? Hah. Wait, fat? It's not. . ."

Oz glanced at his rear. Well. Guess for his stature he did have a fairly thick rump, more so these days. He had been working on it for Anson, after all.

“Heh," said Anson, rubbing Oz's back. “Donno if I wanna worship your ass or your dick. Help."

At that, Oz was also a little surprised. Anson never did a lot of things with the backyard, so to speak. He wasn't complaining, of course, his man was hungry.

“Nm, guess it depends if you want plums or donuts."

Well, Oz would help this decision along. He pushed away from Anson to wiggle out of attire, pulling off everything save for the spiked collar and panties. He had a feeling these would come in handy tonight. With a seductive motion he climbed to the bed, taking position like a bitch in heat, wiggling his thick backside at his mate. Certainly, Ozzie was hard too, ebon cock pushing from his silk, dribbling with pre. It made a nice show of his bulge and the dimensions of his testes. The supple wiggle of his bottom added to his allure, a touch of femininity to his masculine frame. Just depended on what Anson was in the mood for now.

Anson stared at the wonderful sight. Unf, his boy was so generous with himself. Lean yet shapely. You could see him on a pole or fist fighting in a mosh pit, and that was all for him? Make a guy crazy! He shuffled over to his boyfriend, placing hands on back first, feeling warm, soft fur tickle his palm. He traced over every sinew and dive of Oz's frame, delighting in his physique before arriving at his plump haunches. Then, one hand reached under, shuffling with Oz's panties to grip the warm, pulsing cock, eagerly stroking it with patient, skilled motions.

Ozzie purred in approval, shivering from his man's grip. Anson knew him too, knew his preferred speed, how he liked a little extra pressure right at the tip with a soft twist, how Anson interchanged using all fingers to just finger and thumb, so on and so forth. “Mm," Anson intoned with approval.

“Puppy's got a big dick."

Ozzie bit his lip and tossed his hips into the stroking palm. “Gaha, god Ansy, can I get you drunk n'horny more often?"

“Only if you promise to suck my cock when I'm drinking."

Jee-zus. A far cry from Anson's usual existential panics about humanity and interpersonal issues. “Deal, babe."

Anson stripped down, kissing the back of Oz's neck. “Does puppy want his dick licked too?"

The 'yena shivered, wiggling his rump. “To be honest, man, kinda' just want you to fuck me."

Nice to know Anson was so willing. Hey, subs needed attention too! But, really, if Anson could oblige him with a good ol fashion slam, he'd be just fine. Ozzie gestured to the nightstand, panting.

“Lube in there."

Anson glanced and gave a wobbly head nod, still dizzy from his drinks. Never go in dry. He smacked Oz's thick rump once, sending wobbles through it. Ozzie yelped, though from excitement, while his human partner retrieved the lubricant. Once he returned, he bathed his inches in the slippery, warm liquid, setting the bottle aside. Then, he toyed with his boy, squeezing and spreading cheeks to expose Oz's winking, ebon hole.

Ozzie moaned, spreading legs and pushing chest into the sheets, shuddering in anticipation. Anson wet his fingers, running them against the entrance, warming Oz up with a few careful, massages touches. He dipped a pair of digits into the tight, hot warmth, where the 'yena sighed out from both surprise and bliss. His tail wagged and tongue hung free, waiting for his partner to fuck em'.

. . .but he didn't. Why? The hell was his guy waiting for?

“Ans?"

Even drunk and horny, the human still had a modicum of control left in him. “What?"

Oz growled. “. . .what are you taking a picture? Fuck me, dude!"

“Hah, no way, you have to beg."

Ozzie whimpered. “W-what? No! Stop makin' me wait!"

“Beeeeeg."

Urggh, goddammit! Anson! Ozzie wanted it now, could practically feel the heat of his lover. And it did not fucking help Anson pushed his tip against hole, teasing it with proximity, but doing no more than that.

“God fucking dammit Anson!" cried Ozzie. “Stop screwin' with me and screw me! Ugh, please! Pleaseplease_please_ get that dick inside me and fucking breed me!"

Again, he wiggled his haunches, hoping to encourage his lover more, testes and length shifting with him. “Don't make me wait, I'm desperate for it!"

Some of this was truth, a little played up for Anson's indulgence. But he wanted Oz to beg, so beg Ozzie would. It had the desired result, though, where the horny animal was sated, positioning properly. Then, in one brisk, triumphant movement, Anson lunged his inches into Ozzie's suckling, tight hole, pucker forming a snug grip around his mate's cock. Oz gave off a euphoric, doggish moan, his man taking his hole and using him like a fat butted dick-sleeve, and it was nice. Good to know Anson could be a rough stud if he let himself be.

Anson swung into a rhythmic, piston-stroke motion. Not too fast or quick. Tedious, slow, enjoying every pull and press of his cock, indulging in the blissful hold Ozzie's ass had around him. Each shove nuzzled Oz's sensitive prostate and made him lurch forward, hot driblets of presex falling from his tip. Every shove forced a moan, Ozzie whimpering like a bitch in heat, head going fuzzy and hot while his mate claimed him.

Ah, like old times, way back when they went out clubbin' and Anson used the pseudo-knot toy. That woulda' been nice too, but Anson's dick was plenty perfect here.

“Mmmm, Anson. . ." cooed Ozzie, hoping to encourage his lover more. Had the desired effect, because Anson hastened. Soon, his thrust rose from slow to hasty, nuts slapping into Oz's taint while the chimera was content to take it. He did move a bit, working in rhythm to bounce back where appropriate, but mostly allowed his man to take the wheel.

Soon, there was nothing left but this primal machine, this trade of force and motion. Anson's intoxicated grunts mixed with Oz's yelping, puppy-like whines, where the 'yena put some extra emphasis on it to get his guy going. It worked, because Anson fucked him like a bronco, smacking so hard it echoed around the room, forcing plump grey cheeks to wiggle in reciprocation.

“Naagh!"

Coupled with all the buildup, the momentum, and the night, Ozzie lost control. Sheer electric warmth possessed his cock and he burst like a firecracker, messy issue exploding from his tip, messing the sheets while every pounding motion from Anson only enhanced the orgasm. The physical intensity reached a near-paint point for its electric intensity, and Ozzie was forced to groan and moan aloud. He felt Anson shiver and twitch, reaching his own peak, and oh fucking fuck yes having that white hot spunk fill his hole just drove him crazy.

“Fuckyessbabbbyyy. . ." whined Ozzie, Anson holding him down and filling his pucker with issue. “Fuckingpumpmefullofpups!"

Anson clamped his arms underneath the soft yeendog waist, chest to back, embracing that luxurious, scenty fury. He bit Ozzie's neck (gently) as his writhing inches hit peak once more, draining stones into the chimera's hot hole.

Ugh. God. Fuck. Hell yeah. Ozzie collapsed, buzzy afterglow consuming him, his partner's proximity a perfect chaser. Bite turned to kiss, hungers sated, animal instincts receding.

“Ohf, baby," Anson said, mouth full of fur. “You're unbelievable."

“Pfft, listen to you," shot Ozzie, “You hear yourself? H-heh. Thought this was a porn for a while."

Anson gave a weak chuckle. “That bad, eh?"

“Oh, terrible."

Anson fell to his back on the sheets, gazing at his lover. When he pulled free from Ozzie's pucker, trails of white poured from it, causing a shudder and a tail wag. Anson gestured for his guy.

“Come here, you handsome bastard."

Ozzie stuck out his tongue. “Make me."

“Hah," Anson laughed. “Don't tempt me."

Conceding, Ozzie crawled to his lover and they embraced, lips and muzzle pressed together. “Mmmf."

Anson looked around. “So, what you do you think? Stay here tonight?"

Ozzie placed his nose into Ans's neck, shrugging. “Ugh, man, Simi is pretty far."

“We both drank."

“And I'm getting hungry!"

Their temperaments cooled. With lust sated, the lovers – Oz and Anson – made their return, finding comfort and safety in the other. Anson rolled his hand over Ozzie's back, sweet and affectionate, thinking.

“Well, could order. Or uh, I can sober up and drive us home."

“Ew, fuck that," protested Oz. “I wanna order out and suck your dick more."

One more weak laugh. “Might need another beer in that case."

“Hee, well, what did you say? Slob your balls while you drink?"

“Something like that. . ."

Anson paused. He didn't want to be too greedy. “Or, I could do that for you."

Ozzie flashed him a smirk. “Mmmmm. . . you stick to suckin' bottles for tonight, babe."

Anson grinned. “You challenging my cock gobbling skills?"

“Only when you're drunk!"

Anson hugged his boyfriend. “Fine, fine, you win. Blowjobs and beer it is."

He looked to the time. A little past midnight. “First, though, let's order something, yeah?"

“God, please, I'm starving."

Anson paused, thinking it over. “Hmmmm. . . pizza?"

Trash food in a trash joint for trash fucking? Hell yeah. Ozzie nodded.

“Pizza."

Sometimes it's just what you needed.

Sometimes two lovers needed an indelicate romp, to let themselves go. Sometimes you needed that good ol' fashioned.