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It was five minutes until the movie was supposed to start and Mohal was starting to get nervous. Well, no, to be fair, he'd been nervous for the past day, but now he was getting really jittery. She hadn't said exactly when she'd show up, but it seemed like a safe assumption that if she were going to show, it'd be before the lights went down. The tiger knew that the woman was real--they'd met for coffee yesterday, after he'd responded to her ad, to make sure they clicked--but there was still a chance that this was a setup, or she'd changed her mind, or--

Mohal sat up rigid-straight as he saw a familiar large figure step into the front of the theatre. She was a hybrid species of some sort; her badger heritage was most prominent in the distinctly wedge-shaped snout and black-with-white-stripe colouring, but something about her cutting gaze and particularly pointed ears hinted at canine ancestry as well. Honestly, he hadn't spent too long contemplating her heritage, since whenever he looked at her he was busier trying to not be overwhelmed by a combination of desire and intimidation.

The badger-mutt spotted him immediately, her mouth giving a predatory, glinting smile as her eyes found him--alone, in the back row, just like she'd told him. She ascended the stairs with a lazy confidence, giving him plenty of time to take the sight of her in. She was tall--easily six feet, probably closer to six and a half--and bulky to match. Her curvy form was soft with fat and the way she carried herself clearly communicated that she knew how to throw her weight around. Mohal remembered how when they shook paws yesterday his felt so small in the grip of hers as he looked up at her from nearly a foot's difference. The tiger's ears lowered slightly as his stomach churned. He wanted her, absolutely no question, but everything about her made it clear that she was in charge and could crush him, physically or emotionally, if she chose.

"Hey there, cute stuff," she said as she finally got into the back row, striding to his centre seat. Without hesitation, she lifted up the armrest between his chair and its neighbour and settled in next to him. Up close, he caught the faintly musky aroma of her, a dark scent that made him think of the forest at night. She was wearing a sleeveless shirt--lavender, with a v-neck that showed just a tantalizing edge of her breasts' roundness--so Mohal's arm tingled at the feel of her longer fur rubbing against his.

"H-hey. Hi, Ozzi," he stumbled. He wasn't certain that was her real name, but it was what she'd given him to use.

The badger flashed her sharp teeth again and leaned her snout close to his ear, letting her hot breath make it twitch. "That name was for our first meeting. Today, it's 'Sir.'"

Mohal shivered, his breath catching in his throat. "R-right. Sir." Ozzi gave a satisfied nod, and, as if on cue, the theatre lights dropped as the large screen up front gave a bright green warning of impending previews.

The tiger's paws twitched uncertainly in his lap as some generic buddy-cop comedy blared gunshots and pratfalls. One or two more people trickled in, grabbing seats toward the front of the house. It was an early summer afternoon in a college town and the movie Ozzi had chosen was a couple weeks old, so attendance was sparse. Mohal counted maybe a dozen people in the theatre total, counting himself and his... date, he guessed.

The firm weight of one of the badger's paws fell onto his thigh, her fingers tracing a slow circle on his leg. Hot, moist air tickled his ear again. "You look nervous," she purred.

The feline swallowed, paws still clasped in front of his round, chubby stomach. "A bit," he whispered back.

"You can still back out." Ozzi's paw held still for a moment, her voice serious. "I told you I take consent seriously. You say no, I stop."

Mohal nodded, then shook his head. "Yeah, no, I know. I want to. Keep going, I mean."

A low, satisfied growl, and her fingers began moving again, inching higher. "Good." He couldn't help but gasp when a large, wet tongue washed over his ear, but the sensation was gone almost as soon as it registered.

"Shh," the badger said. "Save it for when the movie starts." Despite her warning, however, Ozzi's paw slid upward and inward until Mohal was sure she could feel the heat and light throb of his cock, which was already hard from anticipation.

Frankly, the tiger had no idea what the movie was about. It was some Michael Bark shlock piece that was supposed to be full of explosions, poor scripting, and wooden acting. From what little bit he could gather in the first ten minutes or so, the reviews had actually been more forgiving of the latter two points. But the vast majority of his attention was focused on the paw on his thigh, the arm against his, the soft, easy breathing from the badger beside him. He could see her give him side glances from time to time, but she seemed much more calm, taking a few sips from her soda and at least pretending to be involved with the on-screen exposition.

It was during the first extended gunfight that she made her move. The hero leapt into a room, pistol in each paw, and the badger's fingers went from teasing to direct, wrapping around the hard bulge in Mohal's slacks and giving it a firm squeeze. Her low, sure voice was louder to be heard over the blare of gunshots and rock music. "Did you wear what you were supposed to?"

The tiger felt his ears grow flushed and hot and he wriggled in his seat. Ozzi's grip on his hardness only tightened as a result. "Yes, Sir," he whispered back.

The sudden absence of her paw left his crotch feeling strangely cold. "Show me," came her growled order.

Embarrassed, Mohal flicked his gaze around the dimly lit room. Of course, no one was paying the two of them any attention--even poorly-acted gunfights have a way of drawing the eye, especially when they were this loud. Briefly, he wondered if she'd have gone forward with their plans if someone else had sat in the back row.

"Show me," came the low voice again, close to his ear. That tongue, soft but slightly rough, intimately swirled against the fleshy edge. He choked back a moan and fumbled at his belt buckle. It sounded like things were calming down on the screen, judging from the sudden drop in volume; the short, low noise of his zipper pulling open felt impossibly loud to the feline. Shimmying in his chair slightly, he pushed his khaki pants down. The bright red sack of the jockstrap underneath stood out from the white fur of his abdomen and thighs, even in the poor lighting. The skimpy garment emphasized the bulge of his erection. At the tip of his cock, a small wet spot had begun forming, the moisture making the fabric a burgundy contrast to the sack's original scarlet.

Ozzi made an approving purr. "Very sexy," she whispered, her fingers rewarding him for his bravery by returning to their earlier placement, now only separated from his sensitive flesh by the thin jock's fabric. "You made a good choice."

Mohal tried to keep his voice steady as she wrapped her fingers around him and made a few firm tugging motions. "I went to the store you suggested."

The badger's muzzle split into another toothy grin. "And you asked for help like I told you to?" Her fingers squeezed tight, possessively.

"Y-yeah." His ears flushed again; she had sent him to a large fashion-clothing store in the city's sizeable gay district. While he knew the flashily-dressed meerkat who helped him pick underwear that complemented his fur was used to such requests, the tiger had been utterly mortified doing it nonetheless.

"Good kitty." In what Mohal assumed was a reward, Ozzi's fingers ventured under the side of the jock, fingertips barely brushing against his cock--he felt it twitch in response, and the wet spot on the fabric expanded slightly. Her tongue gave a longer, slower wash of his ear this time, and then her voice again, smooth and dark like expensive chocolate. "Are you ready?"

The tiger's heart wasn't sure whether to stop or beat twice as fast, and compromised by becoming forcefully erratic. His breath lodged in his throat, he gave the woman a shaky nod. In response, Ozzi just arched an eyebrow, mouth set in a patient, expectant smirk. Mohal swallowed. "Yes, Sir," he breathed.

Her paw slipped out of his underwear, briefly reaching up to scratch his cheek fur affectionately, then disappearing from his view. He turned to look the badger, but a terse "Eyes front" caused his attention to snap back to the movie screen, where a couple canine police officers were arguing heatedly about something. The tiger's round ears swiveled as best they could in her direction; over the yelling, he could make out the rustling of what he assumed was her purse and the unmistakable sound of a zipper. The cops' argument hadn't even finished when a large badger paw took his and moved it into her lap. His breath caught again as his fingers were pressed into the unmistakeable feel of firm silicone.

"You can look now," Ozzi said. Mohal turned and saw that his paw was wrapped around a bright purple cock that stuck out of fly of the badger's jeans. Other than its colouring, the dildo was fairly realistically cut--an average length and width, fairly similar to Mohal's own in terms of size, with a bit of detailing and wrinkling to give it a more organic look. A prominent bulge in the fly under the cock suggested that the toy had balls that the badger had zipped into her jeans for stability. Overall, it fit Ozzi; she wore the cock with the same easy confidence with which she did everything, and it didn't look at all out of place. The tiger got the feeling it was a regular accessory for her.

Without even realizing it at first, he found himself gently stroking her erection, running his fingers lightly over it, tracing the lines of the glans near the tip. From the low rumble she gave, it seemed that was the right thing to do. He tightened his paw, giving a firmer downward tug, pushing it down against her crotch; he wasn't sure, but he thought he heard her breath catch for just a second. "Keep going," she whispered, and he eagerly complied, settling into a firm, steady rhythm. He worked her cock a bit harder than he usually did his own, wanting to be sure she was getting the sensations against her own skin. She let out a soft moan and he could feel her hips twitch upward to begin meeting his strokes. The musky smell of her fur became tinged with a more raw, tangy smell that caused Mohal's cock to throb as it hit his nose.

The tiger was so intent on giving her the best possible handjob that he didn't realize she had pulled out a small plastic packet until she began squeezing it just above the head of her dick. Clear, thick lube began dripping down her shaft, getting underneath his fingers and spreading over her with each stroke. She emptied nearly the whole packet, and Mohal continued his firm motions, aware of the way the badger shivered on his harder tugs and the way her scent thickened in the air around them. Her breathing--easy to hear over the quieter conversation now on screen--was coming more rapidly, and had a very slight gasping quality to it. He wondered whether she could get off like this, but she didn't give him a chance to find out. After a few more hard strokes, the lube was evenly, thickly spread over the length of her cock, and she reached down, pulling his paw away. She turned his paw palm-up and emptied the last of the packet, a significant dollop of the gel, onto his fingers. "Get ready for me," she growled in a voice that left no room for discussion.

Applying the lube to himself was a bit awkward. He settled on standing in a partial crouch, leaning on the seat in the empty row in front of him and reaching behind to carefully smear the lube under his tail. He was very aware that they had crossed a line in terms of the explicitness of what they were attempting in this public space, and even more aware of how vulnerable he felt lubing his ass barely a couple feet from her. Unable to resist the temptation, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Ozzi intently watching his fingers as they slipped inside him. It was incredibly difficult to not pull away in embarrassment, but her gaze was so honestly lustful and appreciative that he managed to continue despite the flush he could feel spread over all his exposed bits of skin.

Soon enough, he pulled his paw away and took a shaky breath, giving her a small nod. Almost immediately, the badger's strong paws were on his waist, pulling him toward her until he was hanging in the air above her lap. The tiger was acutely aware of how fast and shallow his breath was coming, of how tight and constricted his cock felt inside the skimpy jock, of the slight rustle of fur in his crack as her cock brushed against him. Her firm grip was pushing upward, keeping him hovering above her. "Wait," she said in a soft voice. Mohal blinked rapidly, trying to focus on what was happening on screen--more talking, one of the police officers tied in a chair--but the distinct feel of his blood rushing through him in made it too difficult. After an eternity of seconds, the cop had broken free and gunshots and explosions blasted from the theatre's bass-heavy sound system. And then the paws on his hips pushed down and before he could think about it, he lowered himself onto her.

The penetration was slow and gentle; the badger's strong paws held him with a sureness that kept him from slipping or progressing too quickly. Mohal let out a slow breath that turned into a low moan as he felt her cock--so much thicker in feel than it looked--press itself through his tight rings of muscle. He was infinitely grateful for her choice in film and timing, because he was certain he couldn't have stayed silent as she slid into him one slow inch at a time.

"Good kitty, good boy," she whispered as she filled him. Mohal's legs felt shaky and he was glad for her confident grip on his sides. When he felt quite sure that she must have doubled in length due to how much he'd taken, the badger's paws gave a downward push that coincided with a particularly large grenade blast on screen. The last bit of her length drove into him as his ass landed on her plush, denim-clad lap. A strangled yelp burst from his muzzle, but the bombastics of the movie were louder. There was a moment of shaky silence as he gasped for air, overwhelmed with the sheer fullness inside him, his own earthy scent mixing with hers, her large paws stroking his sides in a gentle caress.

"Your ass looks so hot taking me into it." Somehow the badger managed to make her voice pierce the noise of the movie. Her words made him shiver and caused his cock to pulse with a painful intensity inside its fabric cage. The fingers digging into his sides loosened and slid underneath his shirt, sensually running through the fur around his abdomen. "Are you ready for me to fuck you, little kitty?" Mohal wasn't sure if she heard his needy whimper or not.

"Yes, Sir," he whispered back. Swallowing, he screwed his eyes shut and added, "I love the feel of you inside me."

The badger's throaty chuckle caused her dick to vibrate slightly, drawing another whimper from him. Without another word, she slid her paws to his back and pushed, causing him to lean forward slightly; understanding, the tiger put his paws on the back of the seat in front of him to steady himself.

Now that she was fully inside of him and he was acclimated, Ozzi was no longer as gentle. Her strong paws held his hips tightly and rhythmically jerked him toward her and pushed him away as she arched her hips in time. Still masked by the gratefully long action sequence, the sounds of their laboured breathing intertwined, accompanied by the soft thump of bodies meeting. Mohal had to keep his jaw clamped shut to keep from howling. The badger's cock seemed to grow with every thrust, and when she hilted it inside of him he could feel electric shocks that seemed to drive straight through his erection. His jock was soaked with his own pre-come now, and even just the sensation of his hard erection sliding against the fabric as it bounced in time to their motions threatened to bring him to the edge. Claws dug into the sides of his stomach, just enough to send an adrenaline spike of fear without penetrating his flesh.

He felt her shift under him and then heard her breathing shift to a much heavier, needier tenor. Her thrusts became faster, almost erratic, and forceful enough that he had to lock his arms to keep from being pushed into the next row down. "Fuck," her growling voice gasped as she drove her dick deeply into him; he felt his a spurt of fluid from his cock seep through his underwear and drip onto the floor. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." The word became a harsh, breathy mantra as Ozzi pulled herself up and into him, her body shuddering. The tiger let out a soft squeal as the badger's claws pushed into him so hard he was sure she would draw blood. Her shivering sent trembles through her dick that nearly made his knees buckle.

The fullness inside him subsided as Ozzi audibly dropped back into her seat, pulling her cock a few inches out in the process. His sides sent a nervous feeling of relief as she shifted her grip to reduce the pressure of her claws. Gently, she pulled the tiger back into her lap, then slid her paws down to cup under Mohal's thighs. After a moment of confusion, he realized what she was doing, and he lifted his legs obligingly, bracing his feet against the seat backs in front of them. His back rested fully against her torso, and he could feel how her breathing was still heavy and needy after her orgasm. The fullness of her breasts pressed softly against his upper back, and her muzzle rubbed against his ear.

"Oh, kitty, you did good," she said, voice just a bit shaky. Her paw slipped around his waist and grabbed him though the moist jock. "You like getting fucked, kitty?"

To his chagrin, the tiger made a pitiful little mewl at the contact with his painfully aching cock. "Oh god yes, Sir, you feel so good in me."

"Do you want to get off?" A single, teasing tug. Mohal was so pent up that he actually had to fight to keep from climaxing just from that one movement.

"Please, Sir, please yes." His voice was desperate with need. If she said no he was sure he'd claw the seats beside them in frustration.

"Mm, I think you've earned it." There wasn't even time for him to breathe a relieved sigh before her paw shot under his jock, grabbing his hard, drippy dick and beginning a fast stroke. Her other paw reached up and grabbed his muzzle, fingers wrapping around it to keep it clamped shut, reducing what would have been a shocked, overwhelmed yelp to a single high-pitch noise in his throat. He prayed this action sequence lasted another minute or two, lest he get them arrested.

It only took a matter of seconds. His balls were already high and tight against him when she started, and her stroking was skillful and confident; plus the feeling of her holding his mouth shut and being pinned against her was hot as hell. As he started to shudder with impending climax, she ground her hips up into him, causing her cock to slide against his prostate, and that was enough. His arms flailed at his sides, grasping for support as his body shook like he'd been punched. His legs went rigid, shoving him back into her body as a howl caught in his throat and turned into a high whistle of a stifled scream that blessedly coincided with a peak in volume from the film. Still under his jockstrap, his erection jerked repeatedly and he could feel his come splattering against the fabric and dripping back down against his crotch. Her paw slowly squeezed up his length, milking additional spurts of decreasing volume from him. Eyes squeezed shut and breath coming in wheezy, shaky gasps through his nose, he felt utterly helpless in her grip. The force of his orgasm was such that as it tapered off, he could feel his balls give a dull, empty ache. As she slipped her paw out of his underwear, he made a soft whine at the sudden cool feeling on his hypersensitive erection and its surrounding stickiness.

Once he had stopped making any noises above a heavy breath, Ozzi let her paw fall away from his muzzle. For an all too brief moment, she wrapped both arms around his waist and gave him a soft hug, her warmth around him and her hardness still buried inside. "Good kitty," she whispered again, and he gave one last shiver at the pleasure the words gave him. He may not have known the badger a couple days ago, but now his desire for her approval was almost as strong as his need to get off had been a minute ago.

"Now," she added, voice slightly strained, "you need to let me breathe."

"Oh, sorry," Mohal whispered, embarrassed. Shifting carefully, he put his sore legs down and shakily pushed himself off her lap; he swallowed the groan of relief as her cock slid out of him. Once he had shuffled to the side (though not sitting back down, given the sloppy state of his ass), she pressed a small stack of napkins into his paw. Silently, he nodded and wiped his paws, crotch, and--with a shy lowering of his ears--backside. The badger likewise cleaned off her paws and attempted to dry the large wet spot on her jeans. She even pulled a plastic bag out of her purse to put the sticky cock into; clearly she was much more prepared for this than the tiger had thought to be.

After cleaning up enough that he could pull his pants back on, Mohal half-stood in place, awkwardly trying to figure out if he was supposed to sit down next to her again. His question was answered a moment later when she zipped her purse shut and stood next to him. One of her paws grabbed the back of his head and she tilted his head back, bringing her muzzle down to meet his in a deep kiss. He melted into her, paws resting gingerly on her wide hips as her fingers curled in his fur. And then the kiss was broken again, all too soon. On Ozzi's snout was another predatory, toothy smile, and she gave the tiger a small wink as she shouldered her purse.

"Thanks, kitten," she whispered. "It's been fun."

"Thank you too, Sir," he breathed, aching to pull her in for another kiss but knowing that wasn't his place in their dynamic. After a beat, he added, "I-I hope to see you again." She had just begun to turn away and while he was afraid to know the answer, he felt he had to at least say it.

The badger stopped and turned her head to smile at him, a bit more sincerely. "Oh, don't worry, kitty." She stepped to him and brought her snout down to give him a small, chaste peck on the mouth. "I don't abandon my pets." With that, she turned and walked away, her confident swagger even more pronounced after her conquest. Heart pounding and vaguely aching, the tiger watched her shadowy figure until it disappeared down the ramp to the doors. Then, with a low, shaky breath, he sunk back into the thin cushion of his seat, eyes staring blankly at the screen as he tried to regain his bearings.

It was only a couple minutes later that he felt a vibration in his pocket and realized with embarrassment he'd forgotten to shut off his phone. Fumbling in his pocket--his fine dexterity still hadn't fully returned--he pulled it out and flinched at how bright the screen seemed in the dark theatre.

But then his muzzle split into a wide grin as he saw Ozzi's name on the lock screen. It was just a handful of words, but it was enough.

Firefight. Regency theatre on Clark. 2:35pm, Sunday. See you, kitten.