FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“Ughhh... No, that’s it. I’m done.”

Pablo drummed on the console of his treadmill, the shark half out of breath as he called down the room. “One more, Rog! You can totally do one more!”

“No, I totally can’t do one more.” With a groan, the rabbit all but fell into a seated position on one of the weight benches. “My legs are still stiff from the last time I let you two talk me into coming here.”

Off to the side, Al was currently in the middle of his third set of dumbbell curls. The burly dragon waited until he was done to pipe up. “Just ignore him, Roger. Pablo likes to be a little cheerleader.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Pablo shot back, his smug little grin marred somewhat by the sweat on his brow and the subtle panting between words.

“Nothing’s wrong with being a cheerleader.” Al put the weights back on the rack, unhurried. “Especially not if you’re willing to wear the skirt.”

Pablo stumbled, nearly falling off the treadmill. His cheeks darkened, as he tried to figure out whether his boss was joking about that or not.

Roger scowled, as he leaned over and grabbed his water bottle. “Can you be chill for, like, one second? We’re in public, you know.”

Al laughed. “I seem to recall you telling me you’d prefer the flirting happen outside the building.” He swung an arm around, indicating the gym they were standing in. “Not in the building anymore. are we? Besides, it’s the graveyard shift. Only other person around is the lady up at the front, and she’s not exactly eavesdropping.”

Roger turned his head to look at the young rat manning the front desk, who at that moment had headphones in and was fussing with an aggressively stickered laptop instead of doing her actual job. “Whatever.” He took a pull of water from his bottle, then sighed. “Fuck, I’m getting old. I don’t remember working out being this much of a pain in the ass.”

“You’ll get better at it.” Al took a weight rack across from Roger, rolling his thick shoulders as he prepared to put them through more work. “It’ll especially get easier as you start to drop weight.”

Roger straightened, suddenly very aware of his gut and how slouching made it hang out. “Who said I was interested in dropping weight?”

Al chuckled, but did not say anything else. Instead, he looked over at Pablo, who was hopping off the treadmill before it even began to slow. The shark stumbled, his legs weak. Al scowled at him and said “I thought you said you were in active recovery, tonight.”

“That was active recovery,” Pablo panted. He wiped at his face and neck with a towel, smiling. “Hey, Boss?”

“What?” Both Al and Roger spoke up in the same instant. The two of them exchanged glances.

Roger pointed across the aisle. “He calls you ‘Sir.’ I’m Boss.”

Al held his hands up. “You’re right. You’re right. Sorry.”

The rabbit turned back to Pablo. “What’s up?”

“Yeah, can I ask you something?” Pablo took his own seat on a nearby weight bench. “How come you only ever seem to do leg days? Like, what are you going for, right now?”

“Uh...” Roger’s expression fell. He looked from Pablo to Al, as memories came back to him:

A few weeks before, in Roger’s apartment, he and his “boyfriend” Ian were at the tail end of their first ever “official” “date.” Roger had been loathe to call it that, for much the same reason he loathed to use words like “boyfriend” in public. Despite that, he had pulled out all the stops. A home-cooked meal, bottle of wine, movies on the TV. With no one around to gossip about his behavior, he was free to snuggle Ian as aggressively as they both pleased. Fortunately, the movie was crap. Roger had suspected it would be, just as he had suspected that, within the first hour or so, the movie itself would take a back-seat to wandering hands and deep, breathy groans.

Shortly after that the date would move to the bedroom where, in the glow of about a dozen candles, the two of them would engage in the most eagerly anticipated part of date night.

Ian was an easygoing sort. When Roger pressed against him, clearly aching to take the reins, he fell back on the bed and let himself be stripped down. By the time Roger had gotten his compression shorts off, they were almost soaked with anticipation. The desire to have a proper, normal date for once had clearly been enough to keep the animal hunger at bay, but not enough to keep it out of his mind. Not that Ian minded. If anything, he was stripping and groping and breathing into his boyfriend’s mouth with just as much ferocity. That ferocity was blunted, however, when he realized that Roger was so wound up that, for the first time since they started having sex, Roger was going to be on top.

“Holy fuck,” the cat gasped, as Roger grabbed at his tapered cock and rubbed the head against something volcanic and slick. “Boss, I’m loving this side of you.”

“Don’t fucking call me Boss.” Roger’s complaint was halfhearted. The feeling of hot flesh against his vulva, spreading his lips, waiting for him to descend, had almost the entirety of his attention. The words came out of his mouth almost as brute instinct.

Ian put his hands on Roger’s thighs, unbothered by the umpteenth slip of the tongue. “What should I call you, then?”

That caused the rabbit to look up. He stared into Ian’s eyes, and realized he was being perfectly serious.

“N-nothing.” Despite himself, Roger blushed. “Don’t call me anything, just...” He lowered his hips, groaning as he split himself open on the cat’s length. Ian threw his head back. When hips finally settled onto hips, Roger took a moment to savor the feeling. Only then did he finish his thought. “...just...fucking... moan for me. I wanna really hear you.”

He did not wait for an answer. He could not wait for one. His hips were moving of their own accord, rolling up and down Ian’s cock in deep, heavy strokes. Fortunately, Ian did not need to answer with words. The heavy panting and garbled half-swears, the rumbling purr underneath, was all the green light Roger needed. He rolled harder. Then he rolled faster. The air was filled with the sound of slapping flesh, as Roger drove his wide, soft hips down over and over again. In seconds, he was huffing and puffing, straining with exertion as he pushed himself to rut harder.

“F-fuck...” Ian gasped. “Slow down a bit. I can’t...”

“I’m not... stopping.” Roger struggled to speak, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’m not stopping. Not until... not until you empty those balls right in my-”

It was at that precise moment that Roger’s leg cramped up.

“Fuck! Shit! Ah-”

Roger tried to roll to one side, forgetting that he was at the edge of the bed. And that was the moment Roger fell off of Ian’s hips and tumbled over the side.

“Oh, shit!” Ian flinched, as the nightstand fell over and he heard the sound of shattering glass and heavy impacts. Quickly, he sprung onto all fours. “You all right?”

“Ow.” Roger lay on his back, legs splayed open, panting up at the ceiling. “Fucking... ow.”

The two of them stared at each other, a moment. Ian’s lips quirked upward.

“You laugh,” Roger warned, “and I’m gonna slug you.”

“I’m not laughing,” Ian lied, suppressing a puff of air. “I’m just out of breath. Seriously, you all right?”

“I’ll live.” Roger lumbered into a seated position, wincing as the movement brought a fresh spasm through his thigh. “Nnngh... fuck. And I was so fucking close, too.”

“Well, come back up here, and let me finish the job.” Ian got up on his knees, letting Roger see his slick, still ready erection. “Unless you want me to come down there.”

Roger blushed. “Stop... being cute, damn it. You’re making it hard to...”

The two of them jumped as a harsh shrieking noise cut through the room. The smell of smoke reached their noses. Roger swung his head over to the fallen nightstand.

One of the candles had fallen in just the right spot, and was igniting the curtains.

Ian screamed.

Roger screamed.

Back in the present day, Roger stared off into the middle distance. Pablo and Al exchanged glances; the rabbit had been silent for a full minute, at this point.

Eventually, the shark piped up. “Uh... Boss?”

Roger started, looking up at Pablo. Then, he scowled. “You know what?” he said. “No. No, you can’t ask me something.”

And then he took a large, hearty pull from his water bottle.