The End Around
The End Around
by Slight ([email protected])
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is copyright (C) 2010 Slight
Blatant rip off of possibly the best crime writer out there. Though he's not writing gay furry porn so somebody had to. Enjoy.
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Unwanted energy. I should sleep, should want to. Caffiene hangup, antsy...moving. Straight south, grip the wheel, my ford loose on the corners in the sand. Skipped out of work, boss wanted me working security on a night job in Tucson. Fuck that, if I'm staying on the wire for 24 hrs straight I'm not working detail to cap it off. Hit the gym instead, exhaustion won't come. Walked out panting, blood rush in my ears, dead weight muscle. No sleep. Countered up at Rita's for a late coffee and burger. Wolfed it.
Twenty minutes burnt and I'm turned in the desert, not lost but close. I only go to this place lit, booze/coke. Why now then? Nowhere else to be.
Crack the window, fresh desert air mixed with no shower, old clothes, doggy. Blue jeans, white T. Toss my shoes in the back, don't need em. 87 crown vic, blue, screams "COP". German Shepherd behind the wheel doesn't help. Neon distant. Hard right, fishtail killing cacti onto a side road.
End of the line...more specifically The End Around Bar and Grill. Vice cops call it The Reach Around, but won't be seeing them tonight. Not with the shit going down on the border these days. Rousting queer furs doesn't have quite the luster, a dealerdog shakedown can score a spare kilo and cash for a week at the Palms.
Drift into the parking lot. Pairs of eyes glowing in the dark, staredown...hushed whispers...a damn growl. The crap Vic has a spotlight, should scatter the fucks...think better of it, turn in next to a old pickup and kill the engine.
Step out, footpads on cool dirt. Damp t-shirt plastered against my tan and black fur. Inside won't be any cooler. Glowing parking lot eyes still on me getting my neck up. Adjust to the dark, non familiar shapes go back to slinging tricks in the lot, I am no longer of interest.
Stucco shack, crumbling at the corners. Across the parking lot, quick strides, yank open a screen door caked solid and I'm in.
Interior...small stage, smoky red lights. Jukebox knocking out some jazz beats sax/drums. Bar down the left wall, mirror back, assorted bottles. Sit down, bar eyes on ME, bad vibes. Rough edges but my shepherd cop smell won't fade. Stare a hole in the bar until a shot glass appears.
"Scotch".
"Red or Black"?
Look up into stale cigar smoke and a Bison's massive shaggy head. Threadbare black buttondown, shirtsleeves rolled. Old enough to own the joint, nothing queer except the flash of silver tongue stud.
"Red". He pulls the bottle and fills, glass in paw, knocked back, booze hits warm. A nod, I take down two more before I come up for air. Smokey juice rush. Mirror check, handsome past, now closer to character. Prizefights in college added some, left eyebrow crossed with scars. Always dropped that left. Square shoulders, my strongarm swagger remains.
Down the bar. Choices. A beat up otter, feelers out. Not my scene. A pair of antelopes, twisted on each other/dope...twin cutoffs, no shirt, sharing a barstool. I could take em both on, back to my car under each arm. Not tonight.
Scan the pool table in back. Darker still...I take my last shot with me. Short gray rabbit rushes into me, balls cupped, a squeal, brush past. I see who I want, Johnny Iyado, rottweiler pool fiend extraordinare. Not here for the money, no bankroll on the torn felt table. Sporting leather motorcycle pants, shirtless, killing time. Say hello.
"Hey Johnny."
"Danny boy, been awhile hasn't it."
I circle the table, come up close. Johnny's leaning back, playing it cool.
"Had business to attend to, I work for a living...hustler."
Twirls the pool cue like an extension of his arm. "C'mon Dan, you know I play straight up. Want to play? I'll spot you the two and the three. Ten bucks a ball."
"Do I look like I want to lose my shirt?"
A laugh, same teeth flashing grin. "Uh huh."
"If I put my money on the bar at least I get something back, you look dry". A motion to the bar. Beers. Shoulder to shoulder. Nice kid. Amazing ass, fur slick, black. Dipped in motor oil shine. Mid twenties. Let him skate on a B and E two years ago. Picked him up carrying a Plasma down a fire escape. Ended up on my couch. See: Johnny sucking my cock, reflected widescreen. His charms worked then, still do.
Leaning in close. Smell beer, leather, talc'd paws. "You making ends meet kid? Must be laying off the stuff, you filled out a bit, definitely look less like a punk."
Arms, shoulders, hips touch, electric. "I can fend for myself, don't need favors from cops with bad intentions anymore."
A gaze. "I always had the best intentions."
Cut to my car, dust pouring dirt road. Johnny riding shotgun, belting scotch from the pint in the glovebox. Wild gestures, stories, scams pulled in San Francisco.
"The damn tomcat didn't know what hit him, I walked out with his caseroll and his car. He was lucky I left him his shoes."
Snag the bottle, take a hit, it burns down. Tires find highway asphalt, squealing through canyon road to Johnny's pad. Riverside Motel off route 76. Out of the car, laughing, swaying. Take a leak against the cinderblock wall, closest thing to river this desert flophouse has seen.
Johnny fumbles with the keys, nerves? and pulls me inside. Both his paws balled up in my shirt, stumble back against the wall. Kissing, hot muzzle, his tongue snaked with mine. My knuckles digging plaster, wall bowed against our weight. A thrust against this, we'll be in the next room. Improvise. A step back, Johnny's eyes blink open, question - Where'd he go? - My hand to his arm, pull, pivot, hip throw. His body hits the bed dead center. His boots splinter the nightstand. Head lolling off the side of the bed, upsidedown, smiling.
"Damn, I forgot about that kung fu shit. C'mere"
Laughing, "I know a few tricks, yeah."
"Show me, shepherd." Johnny kicks off his boots, rights himself, sits on his knees, butt on his footpaws. Pulls the drawstring loose, leather peeled back, pink cock tip BRIGHT against shining wet black fur. Waiting.
T-shirt over my head. Gone. Step to the bed. Johnny forward, hands on my jeans, button fly open. HOT pink tongue on my sheath. Long needy licks, hand on me, balls cupped, kneaded. A stroke, COOL AIR instantly replaced by HOT MOUTH. Painfully hard, dripping. Precum/saliva wet sheets. Greedy slurps, perfect deep throat. To the knot and back. Again...Again...Again...Again. Muzzle ride, hands on his head, not yet.
I whine. Too Soon.
He whines, sucks harder. A paw circles swelling flesh, TOO CLOSE. Hips bucking, hand on his shoulder pushing back - uhh ffuck - both hands. Johnny pulls off. An extra lick, my knees buckle. Brown eyes look up. A Johnny smile.
Pant. "Not yet." Pant. "Damn." Order. "Lose the leather."
Johnny rolls back, slipping his legs from under him. Takes the leather at his hips, rolls back on the bed legs straight up. Peels them up and off, full jackknife. Flexible fuck. Perfect view, trim black muscle butt, docked tail and all. Legs caught on the way down, parted, one on each shoulder.
"Ready, Johnny?"
"Keep squirting like that and I will be."
Knees on the bed. Pulsing red nestled in smooth black fur. Soaking him, his balls, his cock. Lean in, another kiss, rough tongue, hands across soft fur, kneading muscle. A rough grip. Tug, tug, squeeeeze. Johnny moans in my mouth. Ready now.
Slooow push, his body shakes. Back arched. Relax...then...Thrust. His head turned away eyes shut. Again. His head turned back, brown eyes on me, jaw slack. Hips flush, so HOT. His cock, PINK, dripping, knotted, untouched. Slap, slap, slap. "fuck". Hands pulling me closer, dark brown eyes. My head rested against his, hips moving. Slap, slap, slap. Light headed, Johnny shaking, tunnel vision. Frantic breaths, our muzzles touching. Rough kiss, tongue, teeth. Knees burning on dollar sheets. Need driving, hips flying.
"Dan"...clenched teeth.
"Knot"?
"Yeah".
Shove...a whine.
"Unf".
Johnny's head and shoulders against the wall. Staccatto thrusts, Johnny clenching hard, my back and shoulders clawed. Wet cum on my chest, chin. My head against Johnny's cheek, thrusting through. "Unffuuck!". Deep release. Muscles leave me. Draped across Johnny.
Panting. Taste blood.
Slide off the bed, rottweiller with me, sheets, half the mattress. On the floor, Johnny on top.
"Jesus Christ, Dan. You split my lip".
Run my thumb down his jaw. Pulled close, toss some sheets over.
"Shut up, c'mere". Strain to my right, chuck his boot to the ceiling.
Lightbulb POP.
Dark. Sleep.