FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"I cannot believe you insisted on bringing me here..."

"What? You're Irish, aren't you?" Cherry teased me. "And it's St. Patrick's Day! I figured you would want to celebrate your heritage. And this is an authentic Irish pub."

"First of all, I was born in Northern Ireland, not the Republic of Ireland. That technically makes me more British than Irish," I explained in a dry tone. "And second, the day that Lakertown Irish pubs are authentic is the day that Taco Bell is considered Mexican food."

"Ouch, isn't that harsh?"

I snorted. "Not really."

"Alright then," the ocelot chuckled as we continued walking down the busy street, "you tell me then what authentic Irish pubs are like. While we get drunk at this pub anyway."

Despite my grumpy demeanor, Lakertown definitely knew how to celebrate St. Patrick's Day, I had to admit. Turning one of their rivers Irish-green. Allowing the bars and restaurants to sell food at cheaper prices. Not to mention all the hilariously awful ways Americans tried to imitate the accent of my home country. From what little I gathered from the few Irish mercenaries and hitmen I'd encountered over the years, they especially hated that.

Speaking of which, Cherry dragged me towards a bar and grill we'd never had the chance to go to yet. The front window had a giant leprechaun caricature and a word balloon written in the worst attempt at an Irish accent I'd ever read, telling us that drinks were half off, and then wishing us 'a Merry St. Patrick's Day, boyo!'

"Jesus Christ," I muttered as we entered.

"C'mon! I see a booth in the back that's open!" Cherry practically dragged me through the small sea of shoulders and drunken laughter to it. "You have no idea how packed a place like this is on the weekend."

"Ever navigated a Pakistani slum so densely crammed together, it makes the Kowloon Walled City look like an American suburb?" I asked. "This isn't packed."

Cherry stared at me from across the table, looking like he wanted to speak. He almost did until a tired-looking coyote server handed us menus. Cherry ordered chicken tender appetizers and a pint of Guinness each. The server thanked us and left.

"What's wrong, Markus?" Cherry finally asked, sounding more concerned than annoyed, though it did slip into his next sentences. "Ever since I suggested we go out and celebrate, you've been grouchy. Well, grouchier than usual."

I sighed. "It's nothing. I'm sorry."

"Markus," he warned. "No lying. What is it?"

How did I get so whipped? I murdered people for a living, for fuck's sake. Yet Cherry wasn't afraid of me or the glare I sent his way.

I sighed again, relaxed the crease in my forehead, then confessed. "I don't like being reminded of home. It brings up bad memories."

Cherry blinked. "Oh. Right..."

We sat awkwardly for several long moments. I examined the menu without actually reading it while my ocelot boyfriend did the same. After an eternity, he proposed, "Wanna split back to the apartment? We can just-"

"Nah. I'm good."

"Are you sure, sweetie?" he pressed.

"Look, we already ordered some stuff, and besides," I exhaled and formed a soft grin across my dark-furred lips, "I could use a drink. Even if it is that Guinness crap."

Cherry snorted. "Well, what are you craving for?"

I leaned forward like a mischievous child whispering secrets in Catholic school. "Ever had Irish whiskey with salt on the rocks?"

Cherry let out a curious trill. "No."

"Well then," I proposed next, "let's get you acquainted. Still got your fake I.D.?" The nineteen-year-old feline winked back, so I turned to our approaching server as he handed us our pints. "Can you ask the bartender if this place has any Emerald Eye?"

***

Cherry and I started to get plastered. I also unintentionally found myself having more fun than I initially believed I would that night.

My ocelot took to the first few glasses of Emerald Eye like a sponge to water. He drank two glasses down so fast, I started to grow legitimately concerned and asked the server to no longer provide any more. That didn't stop Cherry from sipping on my glass when I went to warn the bartender and I wasn't looking. I noticed my glass dryer though.

"Doing that back in my country would get you punched in the face, Cher," I laughed.

He hiccupped. "Northern Ireland or the Republic?"

"Both," I said, then sipped down the rest. It went smoothly down like liquid fire, and I exhaled like a panting dog. I then took a sip of water from a second glass and handed another to Cherry. "Here. I doubt you want to wake up tomorrow with a hangover, do you?"

"No...?" Cherry shrugged.

"Then start drinking the water," I told the feline. "Meanwhile, I'm tempted to get us some fish and chips...Oh! Maybe some oysters too if they got 'em."

Cherry started sipping before abruptly asking, "Hey Markus, you ever do limericks?!"

I blinked out of confusion. "What?"

"Limericks! Y'know, like..." Cherry snapped his fingers together in an effort to remember. "Ahaha! I got one! There once was a young lady named Alice who was known to have peed in a chalice. It was the common belief it was done for relief-"

"And not out of protestant malice," I finished for him in the driest of tones. "I know. Every schoolboy from Belfast to Dublin knows that one. It's hardly creative."

"Tell me a better one then," Cherry chirped before taking a large sip of his water.

"There once was a gal from Kilkenny," I recited a classic one from the top of my head, "who traded two fucks for a penny. For half of that sum, you could bugger her bum. An economy practiced by many."

Cherry snorted. "Alright, now say one off the top of your head! Say one about me."

I thought over what to say for several moments.

"There once was an ocelot called Cherry," I retorted. "He drank up cum like it's dairy..." My ocelot guffawed silently while raptly listening to the rest of the limerick. "He's bent his ass over from Lakertown to Dover...And quite often in the ol' downtown library!"

"Did you come up with that off the top of your head?"

I smirked and gave a shrug. "Perhaps."

"Just so you know," Cherry mentioned while standing up and turning away, giving me a sultry side eye, "libraries aren't the only...place, that I've been known to bent over in."

Tail wagging, I discreetly followed Cherry into the men's bathroom and inside one of the empty stalls when it was clear, we were all alone. Then, I promptly locked the door behind us and grinned. The starving feline flew himself to me within milliseconds.

I wrapped my arms around him and stumbled against the dividing wall door, hearing a creek from our weight and then be drowned out by the drunken purring that vibrated through Cherry and into my muzzle. The lad humped himself against me and pulled back his lips, only to nuzzle his whiskered nose beneath my grizzled chin while his expert fingers were already unbuckling my belt. My cock throbbed incredibly hard through my exposed underwear, begging to be released, to be swallowed by a pretty mouth and serviced with a talented feline tongue.

"Top of the morning to ya there, Markus!" Then Cherry had to ruin it by speaking. Or at least, speaking in a fake Irish accent between immature snickering. "Mind if I see your pot of gold?"

"Alright," I sighed while stepping back a step to buckle myself back up. Cherry's awkward laughter immediately went silent. "We're done. Let's just pay the bill and get back-"

His eyes widened in alarm and he hissed, "Wait, wait, wait! C'mon, I'm sorry!"

I raised an eyebrow, wondering if he caught my playful wink. "You are?"

"Yeah," he insisted. "Look, I'll do anything to prove it."

"Anything, huh?" I appraised the pleading feline and slowly grinned. "Beg."

Cherry blinked in slight confusion. "Huh?"

"Show me how much you're sorry."

Finally, he caught on and nodded. He knelt down with a fiercely swishing tail and offered a sultry smile I'd grown very fond of over these past several months. He let out a trilling noise when I even brushed up my shirt to give him further access to my crotch.

"Worship me," I whispered in a soft yet commanding voice. My hips flexed forward and backwards, pressing my bulge into his silky whiskers. "Worship that dick you love so much. Show it. Slowly..."

Cherry stared up at me with glazed eyes filled with lust and desire, which wasn't exactly new, but the blushing shade of red underneath his orange and white fur indicated this wasn't something we had ever done before: public sex. And he absolutely loved it, following my instructions by nuzzling his nose and lips against my bulge, sniffing it, and rubbing his face against me. His paws practically gripped my bare thighs, both thumbs brushing against my lowered jeans as the rest of his fingers caressed the muscles and fur. He dared not extend his claws to break the illusion.

My ass had showed such an oral devotion. His purring tongue licked around the shape of my emerging shaft through the fabric. His whiskers brushed against my tip repeatedly. His hot breath warmed it too, causing it to throb, even harder and beg for attention. Just as I was about to imply to Cherry that he could lower my underwear and show it even more love, the sound of an opening door broke our reverie.

My ocelot was surprisingly fast. He swiftly pushed down the toilet seat lid and jumped on top of it without making a sound, allowing his legs to no longer be in view next to mine. Not that we would've been in immediate danger of getting caught, considering that we were in the last stall of the surprisingly large men's restroom, but I was still taking a back slightly by Cherry's instinctive reaction timing. It was especially not surprising when he got back to nuzzling my bulge while slowly peeling down the fabric until finally, my length flipped into hardening view, and he started to lick up the length without breaking eye contact with me. It took all of my willpower not to release a heavy moan as the other man in the restroom finished pissing in a urinal and washed his paws clean. It felt like an eternity.

Cherry was deliberate in his agonizing licks and kisses, truly worshiping my cock from base to leaking tip and purring the entire time he dragged that sandpapery tongue along each of my sensitive spots. Especially as he stroked the shaft and played with the tip. I started breathing so fucking hard. Then again, Cherry was no amateur despite not even being twenty-one just yet. I felt myself begin to pulse against his soft lips, imagining how much practice would've been needed to know how much to tease and service.

I softly exhaled. He no longer nuzzled my length, but went straight to slurping up and down it, driving me wild. I started to doubt if he was even buzzed or if his silliness from before had been an act to lower my stoic defenses. Either way I didn't complain.

However, I did grow even more horny. My balls churned and pulsated against that soft feline chin, teasing me until I couldn't take it anymore. I roughly turned him around and lifted his rear up while pushing his denim shorts down to his thighs. His tail hiked up in spite of the initial confusion earlier, and I spread his spotted butt cheeks wide to give me access to that winking pink star.

I dove my tongue inside with little fanfare.

\ You should have heard the muffled noises that my ocelot made. When I felt comfortable enough that he could take me, I pulled my tongue away and admired the glistening gaping hole for a moment. Then, we silently repositioned ourselves so that he crouched on top of the toilet and lined up his rear end with my aching dick. I spread them open with a few firm thrusts. He trembled in my grip, his purrs, vibrating through my fingers and up both arms.

"Fuck me..." he whispered.

"Shhhh," I cooed to him, "Don't worry, Cher. I will..."

And I did, slowly and methodically. Just fast enough to keep up with our racing heartbeats and slow enough to not create enough noise over the loud air conditioner and the buzzing bathroom lights overhead. I couldn't get enough of him though. He was addictive.

My greedy fingers roamed his sides, groping at his athletic hips and feeling up his sensitive rib cage until I found two rock hard nipples that needed tweaking. Some serious tweaking. I squeezed each one with the gentleness of someone that also knew how to push the right buttons. Or in my case, twisted and turned those delectable and ticklish nubs like they were the knobs on a musical radio. Loud purring rose from the back of Cherry's throat, undulating until I lifted one paw to grasp his throat.

My ocelot went silent, almost instantly. He shuddered and trembled in my rough grasp. He almost started to moan when the door to the restroom suddenly opened again, and I didn't help matters further by leaning down to brush my fangs up against his shoulders, my teeth now tasting the fabric of his shirt. It was just some extra emphasis for him to keep silent as we waited.

Stepping noises. Rustling noises. Unzipping. Pissing. A relieved sigh. Zipping. He finally left the bathroom without even bothering to wash up. Disgusting.

"P-Please, Markus," Cherry begged me quietly. "Please..."

"Please...what?" I teased.

He replied, "F-Fuck me, right here, right now."

I throbbed inside of him. He felt like velvet molasses around me. I slammed myself deeper, faster, harder! My balls slammed against his taint repeatedly. Drooling down my chin, I pounded firmly into his tight tailhole while still managing to keep a vigilant ear raised, grasping onto my cat and feeling him clench around my piston cock. Delirium and euphoria filled my lungs as he turned to kiss me, and eventually, him sucking on my tongue muffled the sounds I made as I finally came. I came hard.

Our lips and tons withdrew. Cherry purred against my chin and panted, "God...that was nice..." My stomach suddenly growled, and his did too seconds later. He giggled. "Um, wanna order some of those oysters and another round of...of drinks?"

I chuckled, slightly drunk on the afterglow.

"Fuck yeah."

***

I had never gotten so drunk and spent so much on bar food before. My poor workout routine and diet had to be ruined.

Hours passed until it got dark, and the owner of the bar kicked us out even after I left a large tip. Apparently, Cherry and I had been getting too loud.

Anyway, we were more than buzzed. The two of us tumbled out into the dark alleyway without disconnecting our muzzles. We traded tongues and made out like touch-starved schoolboys practicing in a broom closet. Our erections rubbed together, throbbing and drunken with lust.

Someone hollered, "Get a fuckin' room, you two!" and we laughed while stumbling onto the street.

I grasped Cherry's paw the entire way. We were so hammered, yet a part of me was still cognitively aware enough to safely guide ourselves back to my apartment building. I barely recalled the receptionist noticing us and wishing me a happy St. Patrick's Day. I did remember suddenly making out with my ocelot yet again once the elevator doors started closing.

"Mmmfh! Oh, Markusssssss..." Cherry moaned into my muzzle. "Fuck me again right here, right here! Right now! Pleeeeease..."

The temptation was there. But restraint won out, and the moment that the elevator door is opened to the top floors, I carried him down the corridor and unlocked the apartment front door after several tries. Mainly, it had to do with a certain cat in my arms, trying to distract me. I finally managed to unlock the door and slide it closed behind us before tossing my ocelot onto the couch, who purred my name when I descended on him.

"Markus!" he whimpered. "Mmmmmmfffhhgg!"

"I love you so fuckin' much!" I murmured between rough kisses. "You're mine."

"I'm yours!" Cherry whined. "Oh God! Oh, Markus~!"

That was the very last thing I remembered before waking up to a hangover from the depths of Hell. We both did.

I woke up feeling like my cranium itself had brutally pried and split open with a hacksaw. My tongue felt dried and cracked like the Sahara. I could barely open an eye without suddenly being blinded by one of the penthouse's windows. The sound of Cherry's snoring atop my chest barely helped with the throbbing on my forehead.

"M...Markus?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"Can you...do me a favor and..." he tried asking.

"No..." I refused. "Not gonna kill you...just 'cause of a hangover..." Jolts of pain skewered my forehead, and I lifted an arm to obscure my vision. "Not that I don't...ugh! U-understand. Nnngh...Cherry? I don't think...we're gonna be doing this for a good long while..."

"Agreed," he groaned. "No more drinking. Never, ever again..."

"Don't be ridiculous," I corrected him. "I meant St. Patrick's Day celebrations."