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[i][b]File Name:[/b][/i][i] Sham Dance[/i]

[i][b]Owner: [/b][/i][i]Arcane Reno[/i]

[i][b]File Location: [/b][/i][i]www.patreon.com/SomeonesPC[/i]

[i][b]File Type: [/b][/i][i]Story:Adult:M/F:Human x Obstagoon[/i]

[i][b]Caption Text: [/b][/i][i]Support us on Patreon for special art, stories, and more![/i]

[i][b]Details: [/b][/i][i]A naive college student attending a rowdy rock concert gets pulled aside by security for a crime he didn't commit. [/i]

[b]Sham [/b][b]Dance[/b]

Waves of throbbing bass resonated through Tristan, quivering in his teeth and reverberating all the way down to his toes. He jumped and pumped his fist to the beat, mimicking the sea of others gyrating and jockeying off one another in the chaotic rhythm of a storm—a tempest heralded by the wails and growls screaming from the stage's stacked speakers. On that stage, a mightyena with a shock of purple and yellow dyed into her mane strutted about, backed by her band's frenetic guitars and drums as she orchestrated the chaos with her voice. Untranslated, raw, yet packed with so much emotion that one didn't need to know the exact words to [i]get [/i]her. Thrash did that sometimes, casting aside her translation collar to give her fans the pure, unfiltered savagery of her songs.

Tristan fucking loved it.

If only he could get closer![i] [/i]Here at the back of the mosh pit, he had a hard time getting a good view of Thrash and the crew on stage, catching only glimpses of her antics between the mill of bodies when the taller people in front temporarily ducked aside or slammed against each other in raucous revelry. The energy here? Great. Was he ready to dive into the thick of [i]that? [/i]Not yet. With his slender build, he'd be a ping-pong ball in there. So, he contented himself with a neck-craning view, the all-consuming wash of sound, and the mingled heat radiating from the mosh pit like a furnace.

At least he could keep dancing near that pretty curly-haired girl who also hung back, bobbing her dark curls up and down and occasionally adjusting her glasses on her cute, button-like nose. She was dressed like him in black jeans with a few too many pockets and a worn band t-shirt, though she'd gone with a black denim vest over top while he'd opted for a spiked leather collar around his neck. His fingertip brushed one of those spikes. It didn't look stupid, no matter what his dumb roommate said. He totally rocked this look!

Her gaze slid his way, and he quickly looked back at the stage, hoping she hadn't caught him staring again. Or, maybe he should let her? He hadn't seen any other guys with her, though that blonde girl who'd been next to her a few minutes ago might have been a friend. He should just go for it. Like the message of Thrash's opening number, [i]Wild Animal: [/i]be yourself, give no fucks, go after what you want.[i] [/i]Steeling his nerves, Tristan took a hopping step closer, running through a few possible openers. Was, 'Hi, wanna dance?' too straightforward? She was already dancing, so it was kind of a stupid question. Should he ask her name first?

Someone barreled into him from behind, knocking him off balance to stumble forward and bounce off the seething wall of humanity (and a few pokémon) in front of him.

"Woah, sorry, mate!"

A hand grabbed his, steadying him, and before he could fully comprehend it, the crinkle and cool feel of soft plastic pressed into his palm. Tristan turned, instinctively clutching the object, and caught a glimpse of a taller, athletic guy with sandy-blonde hair and a broad grin just as the stranger let go of his hand and hustled away, weaving into the mosh pit crowd. Tristan scowled, rubbing his shoulder where the guy had barged into him, then looked down at what the stranger had palmed off. A small, clear plastic baggy sat in his hand, filled halfway with… little blue crystals? Tristan held it up to get a better look in one of the sweeping stage lights, squinting against the glare.

Another presence loomed behind him, and a firm, heavy hand… no, [i]paw, [/i]fell onto his other shoulder, thick black claws clutching tight. A low voice growled in his ear, faintly crackling with electronic fuzz.

"Alright, bud, you need to come with me."

Oh shit.

"It's not mine, I swear!" Tristan tried to whirl, but that paw had an iron grip, steering him away from the mosh pit with ease, his feet forced to stumble along with his torso. White and black fur flashed in his peripheral vision, though he still couldn't tell what kind of creature had him. Over the fog of sweat, smoke, and perfume, he caught a whiff of dense, earthy musk. Worst of all, the cute girl was looking at him [i]now, [/i]her eyes widening as he was marched away for a crime he didn't commit. The pokémon dragged him off the arena floor, its hulking presence like a wall of fur and muscle, until they reached a side tunnel leading away from the stage, the concrete corridor providing some small buffer against the all-consuming noise. Further ahead, a set of dusty stairs dimly lit by a flickering yellow bulb led down to an unmarked door, which could only lead to one place: outside.

Tristan's captor let go and shoved, sending him stumbling a few steps forward, allowing him to collect his balance and turn around to face the pokémon with every ounce of indignation he could muster. "Hey, what gives, man!"

An obstagoon stood with arms crossed over its fluffy chest, the pokémon's naturally hunched posture detracting from its height, though it still topped him by a full head. Blood-red eyes met his with a steady glare over a tapered, striped muzzle, matching the bright red armband around the creature's left shoulder with 'Security' emblazoned upon it.

"Not a man, and what gives is that 'candy' you've got." The obstagoon nodded down at the baggy Tristan still clutched, a snort punctuating the pokéspeech crackling through the translation collar around its neck. A strap crossing its chest held a small pouch under one shoulder, the only other clothing the creature wore. "Honestly, I shouldn't be bothering with this conversation and just pass your ass over to the cops."

Tristan's blood froze, the baggy finally dropping from his nerveless fingers as he held up his hands and backed away a step. "Woah, woah… No need for that, man. I told you, it's not mine!"

"Sure. Everyone says that." A long, pink tongue drooped from the creature's muzzle, the obstagoon shaking its head and flicking an ear. "Something must be wrong with your ears, bud. I said I'm not a man. I know I'm fluffy, but shouldn't be that hard to tell."

Tristan blinked. Unbidden, his gaze slid down the obstagoon, taking in the wide stance of those powerful, dark-furred legs, flicking to the fluffy grey fringes on its calves, travelling down to the sharp, long toe claws, then back up along the curve of white fur along its inner thighs. Nothing prominent nestled between those muscular thighs, just a tuft of dark fur hiding… not much of anything. His face warmed, and he wrenched his eyes back up to that blood-red stare, the obstagoon's muzzle parted in a mocking, tongue-lolling grin.

"Done checking me out now? Good. Now that that's sorted, maybe we can come to an understanding."

Trying to look anywhere but at her, Tristan shuffled aside and kicked the little baggy towards the obstagoon. "You want that? All yours. I don't do that shit. Some guy just shoved it into my hand a second before you grabbed me. Honest!" Dammit, did he really sound that whiny? It was the truth though, she had to see it! Fuck, he couldn't get kicked out! He'd waited [i]years [/i]for this show, and spent half his last paycheque on the ticket besides! Student incomes didn't stretch terribly far for luxuries.

"It's not that I want it—though I've heard Thrash's music is great to get high to." She tilted her head, tapping her muzzle with a claw. "Thing is, I'm obligated to confiscate it. Zero tolerance, no warnings given. Don't make the rules. You know how it is. Tough break for you, right?"

Tristan's heart felt like it was somewhere in his trainers, his throat tightening. Out in the arena, the music shifted. Thrash's snarled, baritone lyrics underscored the guitar's growls: a cacophonous melody rising like a scream against the universe. Was there any sympathy in those blood-red eyes? He'd never been great at reading pokémon expressions, not even his sister's little monster of a meowth. "Look, I dunno how else to say it, you've really got the wrong guy. Please… I won't cause any trouble, I promise. I just want to hang out and enjoy the show."

A flick of an ear was the only reaction, those crimson eyes piercing right through him. "Big fan, are you? I get it, Thrash is pretty awesome."

"Yeah, she really is." Despite the dire situation, a smile tugged at his lips. Maybe there was hope if he could get on friendly terms. "I've wanted to see her live since I was a teenager."

"So what, since last week?"

His grin turned to a scowl. "I'm twenty-three!"

Was that a chuckle? Difficult to tell over the wail of electric guitars. "Relax, bud, I'm not carding you." She crossed her arms over her chest, taut muscle flexing beneath that dark fluff. "Here's the deal. Rules say I gotta report this, confiscate your shit, and kick you out. Unless you're dealing, then the cops get to have their way with you instead."

A frigid chill rolled through Tristan, and he shook his head to ward it off. "C'mon, you can't—"

The obstagoon held up a long, sharp claw. "I wasn't finished. All of that involves paperwork. And I [i]hate [/i]paperwork." For the first time, her calm demeanor broke, a snarl wrinkling her muzzle. "So I'm willing to cut you a bit of slack and a deal."

"Anything." He probably answered too fast. He didn't care.

"Atta boy." That tongue-lolling grin returned with a vengeance, and she took a step closer. "It's a pretty simple deal. You want to stay? Convince me."

Tristan blinked. "How?"

The pokémon nodded down, then at his blank stare, gave a little growl and pointed with a claw between her spread legs. "Y'know. [i]Convince [/i]me."

If she'd picked him up and thrown him down the stairs, he might have been equally floored. For the second time, he found himself staring at the pokémon's crotch, the black and white fur there meeting in a shadowed, dark fold guarded by a tuft of obsidian fluff. "Sorry, you want me to… to [i]fuck [/i]you?"

A huff left the pokémon, her ears flattening as her sharp teeth bared in a snarl. "Why must the cute ones always be dense too? No, Professor, though if you do a good job I [i]might [/i]consider fucking [i]you. [/i]I want you to show me your tongue game, pay lip service, go downtown, munch some carpet. Clear?"

Maybe he actually had gone into the mosh pit and taken a blow to the head. The math didn't add up, so he asked the only question he could think of. "And if I don't?"

The obstagoon's broad shoulders rolled in a shrug. "Then we both have a much shittier rest of the night. Take your pick." Her head tilted, one paw resting on her hip. "You have been with a girl before, right? I'm not interested in popping cherries or trying to turn gay boys."

"Yeah, of course!" Sort of. If you counted some mutual hands-down-the-pants at a freshman mixer. He'd walked away needing a new pair of underwear at least, though he never got her number.

"Cool. Have at it then, or don't. I don't really care which." She spread her legs a little more and gestured as if offering the right of way.

Tristan tottered forward like a puppet on strings. Did he have a choice here? Sure, he could say no, but then he'd get thrown out. He didn't deserve this! Then again, she could have just kicked him out without offering… whatever this was. A sex bribe? Illegal for sure, but didn't this happen all the time in the entertainment world? Suck off the bouncer, get in for free? He'd never imagined himself in this position, sinking to his knees in front of a smirking pokémon security officer, about to dive face-first between a pair of thick, fluffy thighs…

A steady bass drumbeat reverberated off the walls of the little hallway, and outside, the crowd roared. Thrash's signature song, [i]Fuck Yeah. [/i]Tristan's nostrils flared, taking in a whiff of thick, heady musk tinged with a faint copper tang. He could still back out. He could stand up, flip her off, and make her drag him out the door.

"That's it, c'mon, show me what you've got."

Fuck it. Tristan leaned in, planting his nose right in the dark tuft of her pubic fur. Hot, soft lips met his, the fuzz of the obstagoon's crotch tickling his nose and chin. He sucked in a lungful of her scent, that rich, tangy odour both foreign and enticing. It couldn't be that hard, right? What did the internet say? Spell the alphabet or whatever? Maybe pokémon girls liked it differently, but he was flying blind there. He stuck out his tongue, tentatively swiping it up the length of that dark-lipped slit while flinching away from all the fur. Nothing. Tristan's eyebrows rose. He'd expected a bitter, fishy taste. Did this obstagoon mostly eat a sweet diet? He tried another lick, the tip of his tongue barely parting those thick, black folds and teasing at the impressive heat radiating from within. A hint of zesty flavor graced his palate this time, but it didn't make him wrinkle his nose or recoil. She tasted… clean. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"Dude, it's not going to poison you."

He glared up at the obstagoon, her narrowed red gaze meeting his over crossed arms, her wet black nose wriggling. "Give me a minute, okay? This is kinda weird for me, especially since I don't even know your name."

She shrugged. "It's Shay. There, is it less weird for you to eat my pussy now?"

"I guess so. Mine's Tristan."

Her tongue lolled, that wild, feral expression of glee sending a small shiver down his spine. "Cool deal." Dipping her claws between her legs, she splayed her plump, black lips, granting him a look at the dark pink behind. "You gonna eat my pussy, Tristan?"

Sometime in the last ten seconds, his heart had made its way back up to his throat. He nodded and leaned in, filling his nostrils with her thick, pungent aroma. Dark fuzz tickled his nose, but he managed to resist twitching away, this time poking his tongue into the welcoming spread of her folds. Hot, soft flesh met his tongue with more of that tangy savour. Not bad. He worked a little deeper, exploring the tight, spongy walls. A hint of bitter spiked the flavour pouring over his tongue, but nothing more than a strong cocktail might offer, definitely not the gag-inducing punch he'd feared. The heat of her snatch warmed in his nose, his breaths quickening against her crotch.

An arpeggiated riff cut slashed through the tunnel, chased by the crowd's roar. The chorus screamed from thousands of throats, "[i]Don't ever let it stop til you reach the top, fuck yeah![/i]" A shudder passed through Shay. Was she humming along? Hard to tell. He focused on rolling his tongue inside her, flicking up and down and swirling from side to side. She'd let go of her mound, and one of those heavy paws rested atop Tristan's head, not pushing him deeper, merely palming his skull with her long claws as if to remind him who was in charge here. He took the hint, keeping his nose planted in that dense thatch of pubic fur, despite the growing urge to sneeze. Every breath came thick with waves of exotic, earthy fragrance, the air hot in his lungs.

Unsure what to do with his hands, he kept them on his knees, trying to ignore the faint ache building from the concrete floor. He'd lost track of the alphabet and resorted to spelling out his name, tracing along those velvety walls. Her dark vulva glistened with saliva and her own juices in the flickering light, and the sight flipped a switch deep in his lizard brain. This wasn't just a chore or some vaguely unethical dilemma. He was face first in [i]pussy. [/i]He was having [i]sex [/i]at a rock concert! Sure, not with the girl he'd been admiring, or even with another human, but who cared?[i] [/i]Just like the song roaring out in the arena and blasting down this little tunnel, [i]"fur or feathers, skin or scales, it don't matter just hit that tail, fuck yeah!"[/i] Tristan's cock stirred in his pants, the tight denim of his jeans growing steadily more uncomfortable.

She must've been enjoying it, as her grip on his head tightened with a small growl rolling from her chest, and he found himself pressed into her fuzzy muff with his nose mashed against the top of her folds. Thick, humid musk engulfed him, and he struggled to breathe through the pressure of slick obstagoon cooch capturing his lips. Shay humped his face with casual disregard, bearing down and smearing sticky nectar over his mouth, that strong paw on his head as yielding as a stone statue. One slow roll of her hips followed another, treating him like a living dildo with a conveniently placed nub.

Tristan's eyes bulged. Hot and steamy as this was, he needed air! Flailing, he slapped her thigh, struggling against that iron paw. A few seconds passed, the obstagoon bucking and grinding on his nose once more before she finally relented, letting him sink back with a gasp. Tristan swiped a hand across his nose, snorting it clear, then glared up at her. "Could've warned me!"

Shay shrugged, her pointed ears flicking. "I thought you said you knew what you were doing? Not my fault you didn't grab a good breath. You kinda suck at this, so figured I'd help myself along."

Tristan's ears burned, the taunt ringing as a challenge alongside the aggressive lyrics pouring down the tunnel. He might lack experience, but he could still perform! Scowling at the unfazed obstagoon, he shuffled closer and dove back in, this time grabbing her hips to steady himself as he tucked into her dripping snatch. He didn't suck at this, he was just getting used to it! Fur caught in his mouth, but he ignored it, shoving his tongue deep and swirling it around her sweltering passage. Thick nectar poured across his palate, the rich flavour tantalizing and strangely erotic. Those sturdy thighs tensed beneath his fingers, a rumbling growl punctuating the noise of the concert. He'd convince her alright, he wasn't going to let some jumped-up concert cop push him around!

His world narrowed: all that mattered was the soft pair of lips in front of his face. He'd show her. He'd be the best damned pussy eater she'd ever had. A faint ache throbbed in his tongue as he dug in, mirroring the one in his knees. Where was her clit? She kept humping his face, jamming his nose against the top of her snatch, and he tilted his head back to focus his efforts there, earning an approving grunt from the obstagoon. His tongue flicked across a small, firm bud that made Shay quiver, and a tiny thrill ran down his spine, settling in his crotch. The bulge in his pants strained against its confines, the pokémon's growing arousal feeding into his own. Excess juices dripped down his chin—that smell wasn't leaving him for the rest of the night, though he didn't mind, much. Kind of hot, really. Her paw merely rested on the back of his head, thick claws stroking his hair while he serviced her.

The crowd's distant roar signalled a new song, a slower ballad replacing the high-energy pulse of Thrash's top single. Tristan's fingers dug into Shay's meaty thighs, his panting breaths hot against her dripping sex. He was missing the show! On the other hand, could he truly complain? Much as he wanted to get her off and get this over with, this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. How many people had fucked at a Thrash show? Probably a lot, but now he had his own story to tell, though he might fudge the details a bit for his friends…

Nuzzling into Shay's fuzzy muff for better access to that hidden little nub, Tristan didn't realize her demeanor had changed until she dragged him back by the hair, leaving him panting and wide-eyed, wincing at the painful grip she had on his locks.

"Ow, hey!"

"That's enough." Her voice had dropped into a guttural rumble similar to Thrash's snarled tones, those crimson eyes narrowed over a predatory grin. Her paws dropped to his shoulders, her grasp once more iron. "Stand up. Pants off."

Tristan licked his lips, tasting the residue of her honey, the words transfixing him with nervous exhilaration. "Yeah, sure thing…" Was his voice trembling? Nah, just the music vibrating in his chest. With a soft groan for his poor knees, he rose to his feet under those blood-red laser beams and reached for his belt. "Are we going to… y'know?"

"No, I'm checking for more contraband." Shay snorted and shook her head. "Obviously. You're cute enough, and you got me all riled up." Her gaze dropped to his fumbling fingers. "Oh for fuck's sake!" Trailing into a growl, she grabbed his pants and yanked, ripping them and his boxers down his legs just as he got the button undone. Tristan yelped, his erection springing free like a jack-in-the-box, three faint pink lines creasing his thigh where her claws had dragged. He didn't have time to protest as the lustful obstagoon shoved him back against the wall, his breath leaving him when he struck the cool concrete. She was on him in a heartbeat, pinning him to the wall with her bulk and one heavy paw on his chest, her snout pressing up against his nose as she stared into his eyes.

"Let's have some fun, Tristan." That long tongue lolled, drawing a hot, slick line up his neck and along his cheek. He shuddered, words and higher thought escaping him. For such a muscular creature, how was her fur so soft? He twitched and quivered, the exotic sensation of fuzzy pelt teasing along his thighs and calves while the pulsing heat of her sex stropped against his trapped member. "Good boy, just hold nice and still for me…"

As if he could do anything else! Tristan moaned when she gripped his cock and guided it to her sodden mound, the points of her claws dimpling his chest beneath his shirt. He couldn't wiggle free even if he wanted to, and they shared a sigh of relief as Shay rolled her hips, sinking the first inches of his shaft inside her. Leaning in, she jostled him against the wall with her fluffy chest and pinned his arms above his head, the pressure of her body gradually working him deeper into that incredible, velvet heat. Shay grunted, warm, vaguely sweet breath huffing into Tristan's face. Silken fuzz met his crotch, belly fur tangling with his wiry happy trail and tickling the pale skin of his stomach where his shirt rode up.

Wide-eyed, he tried to look down, but a wall of thick white and black fur blocked the view. His heart thundered in his ears, the surreal thought circulating through his mind like a news ticker. Balls-deep. He was buried balls-deep in obstagoon pussy.

And it felt fucking awesome.

"Damn, I needed this." Shay's breathless growl rumbled in his ears, the badger pokémon rolling her hips and bouncing lightly against Tristan's crotch. "You've got a nice dick, Tristan, though I probably should've warned you: human girls won't feel the same after I'm done with you. Sorry."

"Thanks," was all he could manage, trembling helplessly between the fluffy blanket of Shay's pelt in front and the cold, unforgiving concrete behind. Her rough chuckle made his ears burn, but Tristan's cock throbbed, those silken walls gripping him just tight enough, far smoother and more plush than his hand could ever manage. He wanted to thrust like a madman into her enticing warmth and spill his burgeoning load, but she had him completely under her control, powerful limbs pinning him and demanding his utter submission.

Slow gyrations of Shay's hips worked their union, her fluffy groin bumping his, that toasty velvet grasp massaging his member with every sway of her hips. Was this really better than a human girl? It didn't matter, he could only hold on for the ride and try not to lose control too soon. A throbbing need built in his loins, pressure and tension rising with familiar urgency as his balls drew tight, his sac wet with the steady drip of Shay's arousal. Another roar of exultant crowd noise rolled down the tunnel, the music shifting into a keyboard riff set off by a wild howl from Thrash. [i]Extrovert's Paradise: [/i]a song about not letting fear hold you back. Well, his shackles were rather physical—and fuzzy— at the moment, but maybe he'd have a bit more confidence after this!

"Damn, this one always gets me going," Shay grunted, the tempo of her thrusts rising as if to match the frenetic pace of the song. Wet plaps joined the crashing cymbals and thumping bass, the obstagoon's huffing breaths mirroring Tristan's panting gasps. "Best album to fuck to, especially with an adorable subby thing like you."

Tristan's brows furrowed, though the rising pleasure humming through his loins and the heavy weight of Shay's body pinning him to the wall made chasing thoughts a challenge. Didn't she work here? Weird thing to say, but she'd said she was a fan too. A coaxing squeeze milked him of a spurt of pre, scattering the notion with his moan. Tristan writhed, grinding into Shay's mass of thick fur, trying to plunge deeper into those hot, snug depths.

One paw let go of his wrist, a thick claw tracing down his cheek to the spiked collar around his neck. Shay's wild grin widened as she stared into his eyes, capturing him with that crimson gaze. "This is really cute, by the way. I like it when soft boys try to look tough. It's a good look for you."

He tried to reply, but she surged forward with an amorous growl, capturing his lips with her muzzle. Thick, hot pokémon tongue pressed into his mouth, filling it to the brim and stifling any protest. Good thing he'd practiced holding his breath already tonight. Accepting her dominance, Tristan suckled on that meaty tongue, allowing her to explore his palate and swallowing down the faintly sweet flavour of her saliva, moaning around his mouthful and trembling as Shay fucked him harder and faster against the wall. Her petrichor musk filled his every breath, his head swimming with lustful heat. If this kept up, he might pass out, but he clung desperately to reality, heaving breaths through his nose and snarling right back at her. His buttocks beat a tattoo against the wall, Shay's powerful thrusts riding him like a mechanical tauros. He wouldn't give in! He might be at her mercy, but he wasn't just a toy!

Shay shuddered, rumbling into their intense kiss as he shoved off the wall, slamming into her and driving to the hilt. Bestial, crimson eyes narrowed, hazed with desire, and Shay seized him by the waist and redoubled her onslaught, jackhammering into him with those thick claws squeezing his ass. Tristan wrapped his arms around her, groping her taut, fuzzy rump in return, their bodies trembling in unison. He couldn't hold back; he could only cling and gyrate in a futile attempt to plunge somehow deeper inside her clenching sex.

Another howl rose from the stage. Tristan howled into Shay's muzzle as he came. Tension let loose with a wave of ecstasy, ropes of pent-up spunk jetting deep into the obstagoon's hot, spasming depths. Shay clutched him tight, her hips jerking as she rode his climax, the pokémon's wordless snarls vibrating down Tristan's throat. Iron and salt joined the sweetness of her kiss, and she quivered, but didn't let him go. Tristan groaned, shaking in the incredible release, his buried cock pulsing inside those lovely folds that milked him for every drop, until he sagged in her arms, spent and delirious.

That long tongue slithered from his mouth, allowing him a gasp of fresh air spiced by Shay's musk and the lingering tang of their lustful activities. Warm fur and sturdy muscle wrapped him in an embrace, then she tottered back a step, his shaft sliding free of her sex with a lewd slurp and a trail of sticky cream. Tristan slumped against the wall, panting and staring off vaguely over Shay's shoulder. The vibrations of the music hummed through his back, ringing through his skull.

[i]"You only get one shot and it's now or never…"[/i]

Tristan licked his lip, tasting more salt and iron. His blood, or hers? Shay didn't seem bothered, though he was pretty sure he'd bitten her tongue. The obstagoon hummed along with the tune as she brushed down the dishevelled fur of her chest and belly with her claws, the spiky mohawk-like mane running from between her ears down the back of her neck swaying. Tristan's hips and loins ached, his softening cock still abuzz with residual pleasure, his crotch and thighs sticky with their mingled fluids.

A gust of air, cool on his wet junk, sent him scrambling for his clothes in a wave of self-consciousness, his cheeks warming. Stupid, given what they'd just done, but it felt weird to stand there with his pants down while she tidied herself up like it was the most normal thing in the world. As he straightened, doing up his button, he found her staring at him again, her muzzle parted in that vaguely manic, gleeful smirk. She held out a paw, her claws glistening in the dim yellow light. "Deal's a deal. You're free to go, but give me your phone first."

Automatically, he fished it out of his pocket, only freezing halfway through handing it to her. Why was it so easy to do what she said? "What for?"

"So I can give you my number, obviously."

"Oh." Tristan blinked. Then his eyes widened. "Oh! Sure, that's cool." Unlocking the device with his thumb—it took a couple of tries and wiping his fingers clean first—he passed it over, his heart racing as she took it and tapped the screen a few times. When she returned it, his fingertips brushed those blunt claws, sending a little shudder rolling through him. Her grin returned full force, a gleam in her crimson stare.

"Yeah, that right there. That's exactly why." She reached up and patted his cheek. Her paw left a sticky smear. "Enjoy the rest of your night, Tristan. See you around."

Swallowing around the thick knot of apprehension that grin summoned in his throat, he nodded and stumbled off down the tunnel, only turning to look back once. Shay stood with her burly arms folded across her fluffy chest, watching him go. Was he supposed to go back and kiss her again? No, that was a dismissal. He glanced down at his phone and swiped it open, checking the contacts. A new number sat at the top of the list with an exclamation point. The name read, [i]Goon Poon. [/i]

Tristan snorted, but didn't change the entry. Pocketing his phone, he shuffled back into the hot, heavy air of the arena, a wall of sound embracing him and rattling through his aching muscles. He'd go home with a few extra souvenirs bruised into his flesh, but totally worth it. How long should he wait to call her? A day? Maybe two? Was she more of a texting type of girl? A grin tugged at his lips. He'd call her first, maybe invite her to that cool little café on campus. It looked like a nice place for a date.

Making his way back to the edge of the tumultuous mosh, Tristan caught a glimpse of the girl from earlier dancing with another guy, some big chunky dude with a shaved head and multiple piercings. No big deal, he'd already gotten far more than he bargained for tonight. Near the pair, a machoke with a yellow security armband pushed through the crowd, the pokémon's head on a swivel as he scanned the dancers for trouble. Tristan gave him a friendly nod. Must be one of Shay's friends.

Up on stage, Thrash gyrated and leaped, feeding off the excited roar of her fans. Tristan joined in, yelling in wordless exultation.

He'd call her tomorrow.

***

Shay let out a rumbling sigh, the pleasant ache in her well-stretched nethers fading into a dull throb alongside the drying stickiness in her fur. Nothing beat a night at a show coupled with a good hard lay. Bending down, she scooped up the discarded plastic bag of dyed sugar crystals and tucked them into her shoulder pouch. The fake armband followed after—she wanted to enjoy the rest of the show too, and it wouldn't do for the actual security team to catch her in the act of impersonation. Pulling her phone out from the pouch, she sauntered back towards the arena floor, tapping out a message in response to an unanswered thread.

Alain: [i]So, how'd it go? Been gone a while, guessing you got your boy.[/i]

Shay: [i]Fell for the whole thing, poor kid. Looked ready to run off for a moment. Was about to drop the act and let him go, but then he just dove in.[/i]

Alain: [i]Lucky! I'm still striking out. The guys in this crowd just aren't into twinks. [/i]

[i]Lame![/i]

Shay's tongue lolled in a grin as she pictured her slender accomplice moseying up to some of the hard-edged rock fans in the mosh pit. He'd probably run into a likely partner before the night was over. Alain was far better at playing the field than her, though their tastes vastly differed. The cute, timid boys she liked to go for often scampered off if she tried approaching them with her usual blunt directness. Too bad Alain didn't go for the ladies, or she'd have pinned him to a wall ages ago.

Shay: [i]Want me to play wing-goon? The tongue really gets some guys attention.[/i]

Alain: [i]I am NOT letting you steal one from me again, you had your fun! You're [/i]

[i]welcome for the setup, by the way.[/i]

Shay sent a laughing emoji, followed by several tongue-wagging ones. Tucking her phone away, she merged with the undulating sea of the crowd and let the waves of gyrating bodies carry her back and forth, her sturdy frame rocking along to the turbulent music. She'd had her fun alright, and with any luck, that cutie would contact her later for more. The night wasn't over yet, however. Her gaze fixed on one of the guards standing at the side of the stage. Maybe she could talk her way past him. After all, Thrash's afterparties were legendary.