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11. JohnTravoltage - Semi-public/risk

Fynn breathed out a sigh and looked down again, still waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness out here. His own shadow spread out across the hill before him, twisting and leaning with the flickering flames of the party's bonfire back at the center of the yard, but sitting around the fire with everyone else combined with glancing down at his phone every few minutes had practically destroyed his ability to see in the dark, to say nothing of the light buzz running through his system as well. The spotted hyena suppressed a small burp, shifted again, and dug his paw further down into his pants, flopping his balls forward across the waist of his underwear and jeans along with his soft shaft. He wet his lips, squinted in the darkness, felt around himself, rolled the rim of his foreskin back to what he assumed was far enough, then tilted his head back.

Out here plenty of stars could be seen, not as many as out on Asha's ranch but certainly more than at his place in the city. The hyena wobbled a bit with that buzz, pursed his lips, gave the slightest of pushes, and then finally sighed in relief as the needed urge began to pass through him, sweet simmering warmth first dribbling and then streaming out and splashing across the grass before him. A couple of alcoholic drinks with a lot of water in between, as he was supposed to be driving home tonight, and-

And an arm crossed over his chest from behind, slipping smoothly up underneath his shoulder so that the warm paw could lift beneath his shirt, while another folded in along the other side of his waist. Fynn gasped, surprised, and lost hold of himself only for this other paw to pick up where he left off, gentle fingers wrapping around his length, fingerpads teasing at the half-retracted rim of skin, drawing it back further. Silken warmth sprayed over himself as well as the fingers suddenly holding him, the first paw sliding through the fur of his belly and chest up towards his collar bone, making him shiver despite himself. He swallowed, squirmed, felt the forefinger and thumb remain in place along the edge of his head while the others reached down to scoop underneath his balls, caressing, squeezing gently.

"What-"

Warm breath puffed against his cheek. He glanced over to the side in time to see Asha there, the striped hyena's slightly sharp, longer muzzle nudging against him, angled down for her slightly superior height. She smirked, nosed against him, planted a kiss to his cheek, and then ran the pad of one finger right along the underside of his head, over the taut, sensitive band of his frenulum, revealed in full after she had rolled him back. He shivered again, unable to resist a deep, simmering throb; his stream bounced again.

"Everyone was wondering where you went," Asha explained, voice low. Now she rolled her paw slowly forward and back, running that supple skin across the rim of his head, interrupting his piss so that it splashed out across him as well as her paw, then back again. Fynn shuddered against her, easily letting his weight press back against her body, feeling the dense heat of her breasts against his shoulders, the firm warmth of her sheath in her own pants nudging at the base of his tail. "So I figured I might as well come over and help out, y'know?"

"What? Everyone's-" Another shiver, and this time Fynn let out a low, shuddering sigh as well. He rested one paw over hers on his chest and looked down again, watching the way she stroked back and forth, thrusting gently forward every time she tugged down on him. Now he had to deliberately push to continue draining himself - he couldn't piss while hard - but before long there was nothing he could do: Asha rolled his foreskin all the way forward, rubbed it between the side of her forefinger and thumb like the nub at the end of a balloon, then tugged back again. "-Ah, Asha-"

"Mhmm." Her paw on his chest began sliding back down, and she moved her other to now wrap all of her fingers around him, still pumping steadily at the spotted hyena's length. He shivered against her, body unable to resist the growing arousal: already he was more than halfway hard, with each stroke bringing him further and further along. "They can see us, but they can't really see what we're doing. Take a look. I'll wait."

So he did. Embarrassed, nervous, Fynn turned his head, looked past her muzzle - and received a universal raising of glasses accompanied by a group cheer from everyone else at the party. Asha's paw slid away from his cock at that moment, and to his great chagrin his body chose that precise moment to throb again, fully hard so that his shaft bounced up towards his belly and then out again.

"Oh, God," he rumbled, "Asha, why would - hah..."

"Hmm?" Back and forth her paw resumed its movement, the other one now slipping down towards the waistband of his opened pants. Fynn bucked gently along her rhythm, feeling her tug his pants and underwear further down his body yet not really noticing it. Not until she gave his rump a squeeze and then ran a pair of fingerpads across his tailhole, though, gently coaxing the male hyena to spread his stance while still she pawed at him, faster, harder now, balls swinging underneath him. "Like I said. They were already_watching, even if they can't really see. Figured let's give them something to imagine." and she squeezed his shaft again and gave it a waggle. "So why not more? We just need _you, now, to... ah..."

In the darkness Asha reached forward, found his wrist, and then guided it back. Already Fynn knew where it was going, and within seconds found that he was true: the other hyena led him to cup her own sheath and sack within her pants, then reach up towards the button of her fly as well. Underneath twitched a distinct, dense firmness, which just further fueled his simmering arousal.

"Asha-" He bit his lip. It was hard to think while she still pawed him off. "Are you - gonna-"

"Unzip me and find out."

"But with everyone right there-"

Zzzp. Asha tended not to wear underwear beneath her jeans. Rich heat slightly damp with her natural musk pressed into his fingers.

"I said, find out."

12. Criticalshot1239 - Semi-public/risk

Zath's heart thumped in his throat - as well as throughout his sack and shaft, funny enough, though the snow leopard currently failed to see the humor in the situation. Paws pressed against the stall wall, teeth gritted, he plied himself with both growing force as well as deep, deliberate care in trying to tug back, yet for some reason thought he just felt the hole tighten further around him. This at once made his panic spike up another stop, yet when he once more gave up on his attempts he still couldn't help but tremble, shudder, and then throb through the glory hole, his cock teased to its full arousal through the situation and the movements, the extra tension and pressure pushing around him in all the right ways.

Like a firm, strong paw wrapping around the base of his sheath and sack and tugging, squeezing him forward; he licked his lips, sighed, and pushed forward a little bit, feeling as though he were fully on display. And he definitely would be, for whoever might go into that next stall. Silently he chided himself for being so gullible, so foolish; it was likely that he would be here for quite a while, too, since there was no way that he was going to be the one to call for help in such a compromising situation as this.

I'll just wait 'til I go soft, he told himself over and over again. Just - that'd be a lot fuckin' easier if I could get around this and get off. At this rate nobody else is gonna do it for me.

The furthest stall in a partially closed-off bathroom in the upper level of a dying mall kept open only for the movie theater over on the _other_side of the property... the snow leopard reached up, hooked his fingers around the top of the stall divider, and heaved another sigh, pressing his bared belly against the cool material.

I see a hole in a stall and I just gotta stick my dick in it. And now I'm hard. That's the most embarrassing part. "Oh, I can fit this easily," I said to myself, "and I wonder..." and just... fuckin' scooped my nuts through as well. Who does that? Who fuckin' does that? Sticks their balls through the glory hole along with their dick? I mean - oh, Jesus Christ, the thought's just making me even harder...

The snow leopard kept his ears perked towards the bathroom door, at once dreading yet desiring it to swing open. Whether he would call out to them or not - hey, help me out here, I need you to go into the second stall from the back and suck me off 'til I cum so I can go soft and pull out - he still hadn't decided. If I can just distract myself long enough, and think about other things - but goddamn this thing's squeezing like a cock ring - then I might just... be able to...

But then he froze, heart leaping in his chest again. Zath swallowed, bit his lip between his teeth, tilted his head, tried to listen: something just tickled across the front of his sack, hanging down over the thankfully taped-over lip of the hole drilled through the divider. Almost like fingers reaching forward to touch at him, unbelieving yet interested - and then there it was again. Soft, light, tingly; claws tracing up between his balls, then coming down around one side, pricking gently up underneath, continuing along the other side.

Zath's mouth went try. Hey, he thought about saying,I didn't know anyone was in there, I'm a little stuck - but still the sensation continued up on its own, tingling through the fur of his sheath up towards the lip. Reflexively he tightened his fingers on the divider and curled his toes, pushing forward: instead of claws this time it was the smooth, soft squish of a fingerpad nudging against the edge of his sheath and folding the supple, slick skin back over itself, before changing direction again and continuing up his shaft.

The only thing was, whoever had gone into that next stall - or rather, whoever had been in there in the first place, since he certainly hadn't heard any door open; though on the same note, Zath could swear that that stall had been vacant when he had come in here - had the coldest paws he had ever felt, doctors included. Cold enough that for a moment he thought about telling them that maybe they should see a doctor about it, which for a few seconds helped to soften him up... until the rest of the paw scooped in around him, squeezing gently around his balls and tugging them further forward through the glory hole.

Zath gasped and pressed himself against the divider, still stuck in that spot between arousal and panic. Fingers rolled back and forth across his sack, squeezing, feeling, massaging; a second paw slid around to do the same to his sheath as well, rubbing at the sensitive spot right there at the rim parted around his hard shaft, the little gentle points of his soft barbs poking back against smooth skin. Then to his surprise another paw reached for him as well, fingerpads and thumb pushing down against his tip, pressing down further in line with his barbs.

Once more the needle swung away from arousal and over to panic. Two sets of paws in a run-down mall would likely belong to a pair of troublemakers who he wouldn't want anywhere near the family jewels, but - but... God, the way they're... touching me... with the one pair continuing to massage and stroke his sheath and sack, warm weights spreading out in their palm as the relaxation, the enjoyment, pulsed through the snow leopard's body; then the other squeezed around both the base of his shaft _and_the tapered tip, fingers pinching gently at the end, coaxing out the thick dribbles of pre and smearing it around him.

Bit by bit Zath started to relax and give in to the sensation, pushing himself forward so that they could have the full run of what he had so foolishly pushed through the too-small hole. Before long he was grinding in rhythm with the steady strokes and squeezes, biting his lip, wanting them to go faster and harder - until all of those sensations suddenly disappeared, all at once, fast enough that as he thrust forward into empty space Zath wondered if he had just imagined the whole thing.

Panting, heart thumping, he swallowed, opened his eyes, and gave a few more thrusts, yet nothing else came. Neither were there footsteps across the floor, or any doors opening, or even the sound of someone else breathing in the next stall, much less two someones. And still he was stuck here, closer than he ever was before, until someone else might - might- come to help him out, one way or another.

The snow leopard heaved a sigh, thumped his head against the stall wall, and tugged again, just for good measure. This must be what it feels like to be a dog, he thought, in equal parts humor and exasperation. Stuck, but it kinda feels good, but mostly I just wanna go lie down. How much longer is this gonna take...?

His ears perked again. The bathroom door creaked open, then closed. Footsteps slowly approached the rear stall here...

13. Cuatochin - Public/exhibitionism

Cuatochin strode through the streets of the city, the deer-fox's tall ears up and back, eyes dancing this way and that as he went. His heart thumped in his chest roughly in time with his footsteps along the sidewalk, and he hoped that his tail behind him hid some of the trepidation he currently felt - the way in was always tense, but nevertheless worth it in the end.

It was the kind of tension like coming to the crest of a rollercoaster, or standing at the end of a diving board over a deep swimming pool far below, more of a simmering anxiousness than true nervousness, anticipation of what was to come immediately after. He took in another breath, tasted the scent of the city on the air, then reached both paws up toward his neck and flipped the hood of his jacket out, finally bringing into view the thick leather collar he wore underneath. Keeping it hidden beneath the thick folds of clothing had been annoying, and now finally wearing it on full display brought with it the expected relief as well as no small bit of arousal.

Paws already there at his neck, he glanced side to side again, ensured that he pulled eye contact with a few of the others going about their evenings, then reached in towards his hoodie's zipper as well. One paw held the lip of fabric while the other tugged, and he couldn't help but close his eyes and imagine that the wisps of cool evening air curling their way into the gap were instead long, gentle fingers, pressing their way in through his bare chest underneath. Just the thought was enough to lead him to release that breath in a slow, shivering sigh, confidence swelling within him just like the firm neat nestled in his sheath.

More of those eyes, strange and unknown to him, flicked over as he continued to walk and zipped his hoodie down further. It was as much the knowledge of others seeing him bare itself as it was the actual, physical feeling of stripping down. He actually wobbled a little bit as he walked, focus skewed by the attention, further daring them to look. With a little _snap_the zipper's shuttle released and his hoodie flapped open around him, showing rich charcoal fur bordered in ochre gold giving way to the smooth, soft cream white of his belly.

And he knew that that drew eyes more than anything else on him. Black shorts, black hoodie, no shirt, of course everyone looked at him, at him as his hoodie draped down off his shoulders, fell across his arms as he walked, hung and swung there with his step. Finally the deer-fox shrugged out of the loose fabric and tucked it under one arm, now walking with full, bright confidence, deliberately spreading his pace and allowing his tail to curl up, hiking at the base to tug at the back end of his shorts.

But still he wasn't yet done. Up at the next corner he turned, took another breath, then dropped his free paw there. Rubbing his thumbpad across the button of his shorts fly - cutoff black jeans, naturally - sent a sweet shiver up through his arm and reverberating along his tail, as though the brass had somehow been electrically charged. Cuatochin slid back and forth there, feeling the tug of metal on fabric, the tightening of the already snug waistband around his sleek body, the stiff nudge of the flap along the other side. Pull, tighten, tug... and then release, a slight weight tugging free from him as he walked, the button slipping through.

Up ahead glittered the neon-lit sign of his target, the local club where he enjoyed spending his time at the end of each week. The deer-fox rolled his shoulders back, knowing that everyone was looking at him now, and the way those colored lights flashed and dance across his smooth, carefully groomed fur; he pushed the waistband of his shorts away with one paw and let the other sink down between his thighs, scooping underneath the firm, hefty heat carried within his underwear, the thong specially shaped and adjusted to bring out these tantalizing traits of his. He met the eyes of a hyena across the street and held them as he gave himself a squeeze, grope, and tug, bringing his safely contained sack to roll out and rest across his opened fly. He knew_that his sheath bulged to the limits of his underwear, _knew that in the correct light, anyone out here would be able to see the flash of slick pinkish fleck poking out from the end of supple skin and fur there, clutched teasingly underneath the elastic of his thong.

And to think he was already almost in his work uniform. The deer-fox cast a wink that hyena's way, turned around to open the door to the club with a bump from his rear, and slid his thumb under the strap of his thong as he did so, tugging it down just far enough that the stretchy material slid downwards to nestle at the base of his sheath, finally letting the cool evening air run down across it.

Inside the building pounded the familiar music of the night, loud as hell but still more felt than heard. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the stark contrast within, dim hazy shadows punched through with flashes and streaks of more bright neon deliberately placed to highlight the stage and leave the audience obscured. Still, though, as the deer-fox strode forward towards the back halls where he could prepare, he made sure to look down and watch some of those audience members are closely as they watched the shows up on stage dancing, swirling, dipping, diving, teasing.

Heady, eager breaths puffed; grunts, moans, gasps mixed with the music; Cuatochin watched pumping arms, hips thrusting up out of their chairs, muzzles twisting, jaws clenching, teeth gritting - sweet, urgent spurts of white flashing in the lights, spraying out. He licked his lips and rumbled in his throat as he walked, knowing that he drew some of that interest along himself as he went, shorts now resting beneath the soft swell of his rump; passing by someone apparently very close in their own indulgences, Cuatochin reached back with both paws, squished his paws underneath the plush weight of his rear, tugged, spread, held there - and was rewarded with the gasping sighs of peak pleasure fading behind him.

He smirked as he pushed into the back hallways, already anticipating the sort of tips he would certainly receive for his dances tonight.

14. Iridiumx - Public/Exhibitionism

Iri reached up to wipe at his mouth, making sure that any remaining evidence could at least no longer be seen in the relative darkness of the open theater. Still, though, he could smell it every time he breathed in, the warm, rich, deeply familiar splash of _wet dog smell_mixed with the sharper acridity of vulpine heat, of course all wrapped together under the gentle bittersweet musk of-

Lounging back in his seat, legs lifted along the chair's bar underneath him for some extra privacy, the dragon ran a fingerpad slowly around the Vulpix's tailhole where he held her in his lap, running smoothly, easily over the wrinkles of tight skin and muscle so thoroughly slickened with thick, dripping saliva. She shivered at his touch, burying her petite muzzle against his chest; Iri bit his lip, tasted her musk there again, and then gently pressed that finger up to the first knuckle, then the second. Warm wet flesh spread and squeezed around it, then tightened further when he did the same with a second finger; if he perked his tall ears he could just barely hear the telltale sounds squelching out underneath the show going on down on the stage, the rhythmic squirts and slops and shlups as her muscles worked.

As he had already done so many times since sitting down, the Trainer glanced from one side and then the other to ensure that nobody had quite caught on yet. The magician down on stage - Iri hadn't been paying too much attention, but he was fairly certain that's what kind of show this was - made a flourish with a pop of pyrotechnics, to raucous applause from the rest of the crowd. Seeing his chance, Iri shifted again, briefly lifted the Vulpix up, squirmed where he sat... and then lowered her back down into his lap.

Slowly at first, luxuriously, with each of them tense and tight and then gradually, shakily relaxing, sinking into the sensation. Ever since he had come out of the bathroom with her clutched in his arms, and his muzzle smeared with a combination of his own saliva and Pokémon anal slime, Iri had been twitching hard within his pants; it hadn't been difficult at all to find the opportunity in the dark theater to unzip his fly and fish himself out into the air, hiding his shaft beneath the small vulpine's body. His own scent combined with hers had served to just keep him there while searching for his next chance, and now that he finally had it - he shuddered as he continued to press up into her, warm silken wetness slurping down around him as she pushed back in response.

The Vulpix's hindpaws pushed down on Iri's thighs, and for a moment she lost her balance and slid down further with a small yelp. He clasped his arms around her and leaned in, heart thumping in his chest, to try to pretend as though he were consoling her for some small shock; within seconds that seemed to stretch out into hours the others around him turned back to the show, the slight interruption forgotten. Bit by bit he pressed deeper into her, hands firm on her haunches to keep her from squirming too much, though it was mostly the Vulpix who guided herself down onto him: she pressed her forepaws against his chest and half-squatted in his lap, Iri nudging her hind end back down so nobody would notice.

It was hard to keep focus. All he wanted to do was tighten his grip on her and push up inside, to feel her stretched tailhole against his genital slit and smear and smush himself around; already the plump, moist meat of her arousal-swollen spade smooched against his lower belly, her wetness clinging to his shirt and staining the fabric there.

Something happened down on stage, Iri wasn't quite sure what, so he took the opportunity to wrap an arm around the Vulpix, hold her down against him, and lean forward, in the same movement thrusting his hips gently upwards. She squirmed against him and shuddered again, tailhole clenching, slick bowels squeezing around his now fully-buried shaft; the wet heat of the inside of her body squished all around him, nearly enough to send him over the edge right then and there. Slowly the dragon churned his hips against her, keeping his ears perked for the sound of her stretched tailhole slurping back and forth across him; her breath puffed out hot and needy against his chest, and he stroked across her fur as he went.

When the rest of the crowd sat back he did too, then bit back a moan and a tremble for the change in pressure and squeeze around his buried arousal. The Vulpix's sex pulled stickily away from his shirt, thick strands of her arousal hanging down and further coating the fabric. Iri swallowed again, now able to smell nothing but her in his little pocket of the theater here, right in the middle of the row, right in the middle of the room, and worked himself slowly inside of her, keeping himself buried nearly to the hilt.

It was the squeezing of her muscles, the ring of her tailhole and then deeper inside that yanked him closer and closer to the edge. Halfway through the dragon reached forward and swirled his thumb into her spade again, gladly smearing the succulent wet meat back and forth around himself, easily finding the little nub of hypersensitivity that made her squirm and chirp in his lap all over again.

For a while Iri forgot about the show and the crowd around him, instead completely wrapped up in - and inside - this Vulpix squirming, clenching, dripping in his lap. The evidence of her approaching peak oozed down across his shirt and coated him in slick sliminess, her scent wafting up, stinging at his nose, driving him forward further and further; soon he couldn't help himself from keeping her rump spread with both hands, her several tails splayed out across his lamp to hide him as he thrust up into her, hips smacking quietly against her, stretching her further until a sweet, fiery shock pounded through him, and he tilted his head back, gritted his teeth to bite back another moan - and felt himself unload deep into the small fox.

Still she clenched around him, welcoming the thick warmth pouring out into her bowels in those dense spurts, Iri's thumb working within her spade bringing her closer as well until the Pokémon trembled, clenched tightly around him, and buried her muzzle in against his shirt again. A moment later she bucked and jerked as well, and a great spray of wet heat dumped out across Iri's chest and belly, then again, and again... and the tangy, spicy aroma of Vulpix completely encircled his head as she continued to dribble her peak out across him.

He rested his head back, exhausted, as both tried to catch their breath. Around him the crowd applauded again and the lights came back on: Iri blinked against the brightness, looked around, and then felt his heart drop. He looked down in his lap, up at everyone around him, down again where he still sat completely buried inside the Vulpix's tailhole-

"Whoa," said a voice from behind him, "you alright there? What happened?"

Iri swallowed, mouth suddenly dry despite where he had put it just a few minutes ago. Glistening wetness dripped across his chest.

"Um." He glanced over his shoulder. "Spilled a drink?"

15. ZealStarclaw - Cuck

Askia nudged the door shut behind himself, both paws as well as his forearms and elbows full with several grocery bags. He sighed where he stood, glad to be home after his errands run gone long, then hobbled over to the table to begin depositing his bounty. There were the peppers Lukas had requested; the two gallons of milk - two - which had naturally torn their bags; the burger buns, the bags of chips, the extra boxes of cereal... one by one the African wild dog took everything out and then set everything into its place throughout the kitchen, fridge, and pantry.

By the time he finished he wondered at the fact that neither his husband nor their visitor had come to help. Curious but unconcerned, the wild dog sighed with relief at a job well done, nodded, double-checked that he had indeed put everything away, then strode off into the next room to greet the two where they certainly sat playing video games in the living room... except they weren't. Askia tilted his head: they definitely had been here, as the TV remained on but dim over the pause screen. In fact - he peered closer - they hadn't advanced far at all past where they were when he had first left for the store.

Curiosity stirring into confusion Askia looked around the room, glanced outside, peeked into the garage again, then moved towards the hallway. Nothing here, either, save for a thin shaft of light streaming out from the almost-closed door to the master bedroom. Oh, that's right, he remembered, relief again washing through him, we got that new oversized original painting that Mikey was all jazzed about. He probably wanted to show Lukas, since he's definitely into that kind of thing. Can even see the brush strokes, and where the paint piled up, and...

So wrapped up was he in his own thoughts that as the wild dog nudged the back of his paw to the door to push it gently open, it took him a moment to realize what he was looking at, and what he was hearing. Rhythmic _thmp-thmp-thmp_accompanied by the steady creaking of straining metal, then eager, hungry panting on top of everything, and then the much more familiar warm, breathy moans of his husband locked deep in the throes of urgent arousal.

Askia's radar dish ears flushed and his tail stilled. Curiosity bounced to shock, then to embarrassment, and then he zipped out of the bedroom quicker than he had poked in, heart thumping in his chest out of pace with the bump of the bedframe up against the wall. It wasn't that he hadn't expected this, really, just... he had imagined it would have at least happened while he had been there to see it begin. Slowly, carefully, not wanting to let the two know he had returned, Askia leaned back towards the threshold again, held his muzzle at an angle, peeked through the gap - and this time took in the sight there.

Without a doubt there was Mika lying back on the bed, the speckled housecat propped up against the headboard on a few pillows, eyes closed, mouth open, and paws resting lightly across Lukas's thighs where the otter sat straddling his lap. More than straddling, of course: thick, brown-furred musteline paws pushed down against Mika's chest for leverage as he vigorously, energetically rode the cat underneath him, thick rudder hiked at the base to show where Mika's sleek barbed length sank deep up inside of the smaller male again and again.

Lukas was the one panting, jaw hanging open and ears forward, slim chest filling, emptying, filling again with eager breaths as he worked. Even from here Askia could see the way he bit lip, licked his chops, and leaned in close to murmur something to Mika underneath him, whose eyes fluttered open so he could respond with a small chuckle. Then Mika's head rolled to the side and he let out another deep, satisfied moan, pushing his paws against the mattress to lift up into the otter, who gasped and arched his back.

Should I stop them? Askia thought, heart still pounding - and his pants growing tighter, bit by bit. He swallowed and scooted closer, trying to get a better look, and received just that: as he leaned back, chest swelling out yet again with another hungry inhalation, Lukas reached back to spread his plush rump with both paw. Askia watched with mixed surprise and delight as the otter's supple tailhole squeezed along his husband's - Askia's_husband's, that was - hard shaft, clenching tight, tugging gently each time he lifted up and then pressed back down. _They seem like they're having fun. Maybe it'd be better if I... just...

"Ahh, God..." Lukas breathed. He swung his head down again and adjusted how he straddled the feline, bringing his footpaws underneath the two of them, and hooking them beneath Mika's knees. Locked in place here Lukas used the extra leverage to yank Mika up into him each time he pushed back down, balls grinding forward and back across the cat's lap, his own fully hard shaft slapping against his belly and flinging off the occasional glistening drip of eager pre. "You-"

"Oh, fuck, Luke..."

"-you've mentioned before how..." The otter swallowed open-mouthed and slowed in his pace, grinding his rump side to side to hilt Mika inside of him while he spoke. "How Askia can get off hands free super easily."

Mika took a moment to catch his breath. "Uh huh. It's really - hah - cool to see."

"Don't I know it." Lukas sucked in a breath, visibly clenched again, and drew himself up nearly to Mika's tip, then pushed right back down again. Both of them trembled with the sensation. "Just means I gotta show him up, right? Besides, he's wanted - this - for fuckin' years, but boy's too shy to get into my pants." Again he bit his lip, drawing himself forward, spreading his paw along Mika's chest towards his collar bone. Fingers pressed in at the base of his throat; the feline shivered and tilted his head back, reflexively pressing up into the otter once more. "Maybe it'll - light a fire in him to know that you got here first, right?"

"M-maybe. He should... be back soon..."

"Good." Then both paws to the shoulders again - and the thumping continued. Lukas's words hovered out in between snatches of gasps and moans. "Would love him to - feel me for the first time - with - ah... using his husband's cum as - lube..."

"Speaking of that - not much longer, now, I... ah..."

Askia squirmed where he stood, one paw going down to adjust himself in his pants. It lingered there, touching, squeezing, stroking at his growing arousal, coaxed on by the sight, the knowledge, the words.

He took in a breath, held it, pressed his back against the wall, and then slowly, carefully began to undo his pants fly.