Try New Things
Story by The Brain of Lazarus on SoFurry
Hey! We're three for three. Happy to continue this series. This was a nice write, as I'm having a lot more fun with these characters than anticipated. I hope you enjoy.
Ozzie's got an idea to take his relationship further, but he might need to convince Anson to do some new things.
Try New Things
By Laz Briar
You ever look at someone and realize he's everything you could've wanted?
Ah, man, maybe I'm a hopeless romantic. Hell, maybe I'm callin' too soon before the rivers even flipped. But I can't help it. I've known Anson – well, known Anson – for a good month now. We started datin', hmm, second week of July ish? Not too long after our first hookup. After that, things just kinda' fell in place.
And it's kinda' because he's put together. Real stiff. He's got his casual laziness sure, but, he's organized too. I'm lookin' at him right now – in the kitchen, making a breakfast I don't know how to do. He's got a schedule. Know what mine is? Grab some coffee somewhere and munch a hash brown on the way to work. Hell, I use to fridge takeout for lunch the next day until Anson got me squared away.
Him? Nuh uh. Routines and plans. He's everything I'm not. Busy schedule tomorrow? Well, he's catching an early sleep and setting his alarm for a few minutes early. Me? Getting tipsy at a skeevy bar while bad sludge plays in the background.
Hey! I take my job seriously too. But I guess I'm the fire and he's the woods. And shit, I've never realized how much I needed that. He's getting me in line and I kinda' like it. Maybe it's the dog mix in me, and the human he is. I've got that predisposition to be loyal or something?
But I want a little more. I'm still a rowdy bitch and I've got needs. And that wild pup in me, that boy who likes his jewelry as much as he loves a leather jacket? He wants to be tamed. If he can be tamed, heh.
Now how do you get someone as 'conservative' as Anson to do that? Well, I've got an idea. . .
-*-
“Try a 'strap' at Blackout. It's pretty popular with human guys, I hear."
Ozzie listened to his friend with enthuse, taking a bite from his lunch. His ears perked and he looked around, as if their discussion might be discovered.
Gabby smirked at his changing expression of anxious excitement, and the notable flush in his cheeks. She was one of his coworkers in sales, another “universal agent" for Songbird, a lean Labrador with petite feminine curves and short curly hair.
And, despite Ozzie's “disposition" when it came to the same sex, a good friend he could trust. One who knew a thing or two as well when the bedroom antics needed some spice.
“A strap huh?" he said, taking another bite. He licked his chops. The delicious “scavenger" banquet was whipped up by Anson, a tasty mix of meats and fruits to suit his hybrid-hyena body.
Gabby nodded. “Well, they're not called 'straps.' Enhancements, Love-Knots, Bulbs. But he does have to strap it on, yeah."
Ozzie shuddered at the thought. All part of the plan.
See, Oz noticed that Anson was a man of routine and creature comforts. This wasn't a bad thing – he loved how on-task his human boyfriend was. But, he also noticed Anson wasn't one for going out a lot, or trying wild things, or just satisfying the impulse of the self. Maybe that was a human deal? Whatever the reason, he wanted to have fun with his man. Not just cuddle fun, wild, hot blooded fun, the kind of stuff that lit a fire inside you.
He cherished their romance. He was head over heels with Anson's kindness and compassion, his concern. Even the lunch was a subtle hint of how much thought he put into them as a couple. But. . . it was time to rev up a gear or three.
“See?" Gabby pulled out her phone, swiping through it. She showed it to him (with some concern of who could see in the cafeteria), grinning.
There was a list of these “play knots" on the adult website WildOn. Each one had different colors, sizes, and shapes. Most common was the “wolf knot," a fat bulging thing ready to sit right at the base of a human's cock. The tagline read: “Wild, hot, wolfy fun – tie your mate like a bitch and make them howl!"
“Shit," Ozzie said. He licked his chops, but not from the food.
Gabby nodded with a sly, knowing expression.
“Why Blackout?"
Gabby put away her phone, forking away at her specialty canine salad. “Mm? Oh."
A bite. “It's kind of the hotspot for hookups in SoCal. Or it really wants to be. Bars, food, nightclub music, even rental rooms. It works though. Best mixer around. Before I got serious with Harris I snagged a couple guys there. Human guy, mutt guy. And a stacked corgi lady."
Ozzie chuckled. “Yeah? That good? Damn, man. But that just sounds like a hotel with more shit in it."
“Preeetty much."
Ozzie leaned back, running hand through his light gray mane. “Guess I've been hangin' around too many dumpy bars."
She shrugged, pecking at her food. “Hah, you're the only one I know brave enough to do it."
Maybe that was true. But the concept certainly danced in the yeendog's mind. All the colors and light and alcohol. He imagined Anson getting a bit looser, smiling, relaxing. He could see them. Walking up some stairs, finding a room, and then himself getting shoved over a bed and. . .
“I dunno.' He might not like it. What if he thinks he's. . . like, I'm sayin' he's not good enough? 'Hey babe, your dick doesn't satisfy, so wear this!'"
Gabby gave him a curious leer. “Is that what you're saying?"
He couldn't understand why, but Ozzie bristled. He almost snarled.
“Fucking hell no, of course not!"
Gab caught the aggression, ears flagging. “Okay, okay, I'm not implying it."
Ozzie huffed. “Sorry. Didn't mean it like that."
“No, I get it. It's kind of a weird deal. But the Bulbs aren't entirely for the physical sensation. Symbolic, you know. Bitches love it. I should know."
She glanced over at one of the café' clocks. Not too long before their lunch shift was over.
Ozzie nodded, letting his mind wander again. He imagined himself whimpering, Anson close, tight, pushing in, tying him. Not even Jaxon got that far. No one did.
He started munching away again at his delicious scavenger banquet, and with every bite, thinking of his man.
“I can talk to him."
Gab smiled. “Like you should. You two are real cute together. I kinda' figured Jax was the one but, guess that ship sailed, huh?"
Ozzie put his hand into his cheek. “More like sank into a goddamn trench."
Gab's eyes widened. “That bad?"
He shrugged. He wasn't interested in digging up all that again. Instead, he veered the subject around.
“So, the club. They uh, just let you bring in sex toys?"
Gab didn't chase it, instead, obliging him. “Haha, are you kidding? They encourage it. Rooms are stocked with like, mini-bars of lube and condoms. You'll be fine, if you try it."
She squinted, thinking. “Yeah, just. Let them know at the front. Have your stuff in a bag and they'll put it in the room you rented. Of course, you gotta use it, they only give you so much time. No overnights."
Ozzie's tail started to wag. Was it really that simple? He was never great at planning, but this time was different. Get a toy or two, see if Anson was up for it, rent a room and then. . .
He blushed. The idea was so close, so tangible and arousing.
From there, he got as many details as he could about Blackout. Location, prices, drinks, all the good stuff. Gabby was happy to answer until it was time to clock back in.
Ozzie could barely focus on work. Selling services over the phone became a task almost impossible to overcome. His heart fluttered as his thoughts were distracted. Could this really work?
-*-
Ozzie might as well have been a little pup eagerly awaiting his favorite treat. By quitting time, he could hardly restrain a big, toothy grin, his tail wagging with vigor.
As per their new routine, he met Anson at Songbird's parking lot. The human was waiting for him, scrolling through phone until he spied Ozzie coming down the sidewalk. A smile.
“There he is."
Ozzie did his best to not just bounce up to him.
“Jeeze man you really kicked it, usually you're not down here for like ten minutes."
The yeendog made an excuse. “Agh, just couldn't wait to get outta' there. I was half afraid April was gonna grab me for some bullshit paperwork."
Anson chuckled, starting for his car, unlocking it. “You don't do paperwork."
“You don't know that. You have no idea what I do in customer sales."
They both got in, Anson cranking the AC as fast as possible. Summer was bearing down pretty hard.
“You're right, I don't."
Ozzie snickered, nudging him. “Ugh, shut up babe. Get me home."
As Anson shifted gears, starting to pull out, he cast a curious glance. “Oh? Not staying with me tonight?"
A timid sadness accompanied his tone. Since they started dating, Ozzie was coming over to Anson's place every other day, often staying the night. He was a bit too embarrassed to have Anson at his own apartment, at least for now.
The yeendog realized his mistake. “Oh! No no, I meant. Yeah. Your place. Heh."
“It's home, right?" he added.
Silently relieved, Anson nodded. “Of course."
It helped that Anson's place wasn't too far from Songbird, about thirty odd minutes or so. The company built up in Thousand Oaks and Anson found himself a nice little place not too far off. Ozzie, on the other hand, was a bit farther, and depending on traffic, he either had to leave early or really early. Drinking the night before never helped.
They chatted about the usual migraines of work as Anson navigated back to his place. It was a particularly stressful week for them both, since the company had a big new feature release. “Chirp" was official, and so it had to be sold. It also had to have documentation regarding cybersecurity strengths and weaknesses.
“I'm pretty sure this one guy didn't even understand cloud infrastructure," Ozzie would say at a red light. “I had to explain that to em', how that integrated with Chirp and shit. Ugh."
“Surprised you even got that far," Anson had said. “Didn't even have time to get all the help center info up."
Nothing like bonding with your boy over work gripes.
Eventually, The Meadows at South complex rolled into view, both relieved to finally make it back.
“Lunch was fuckin' delicious by the way," Ozzie said as Anson found his parking space. “Man, you spoil the shit out of me."
Anson keyed the ignition off, pleased. “Oh I do not. I just want you to eat right. No more of this takeout bullshit."
Remembering his plan, Ozzie added a little sugar. He kissed the human on the neck, sipping masculine scent. His ears perked to hear Anson relax, his breath softer. Only his senses could pick up on that, and he liked the advantage.
“Whatever you say_._ I just think you really like me."
The two made it back without any delay. Coming inside to Anson's organized flat was a welcome relief; everything was where it was supposed to be. Ozzie sank into the living room couch, taking a load off. In doggish fashion he unbuttoned his business casual shirt, exposing his chest, yanking off tie.
“Ugh, I can still hear the ringing in my heaaaad," he whimpered, arching his neck.
Anson hung up his keys. “Hey, don't get naked just yet."
He marched over to Ozzie, who feigned a pouting muzzle. “But I want to."
The human rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Lazy bastard. Here, gimme' your stuff."
It was a simple act, but it made Ozzie's heart flutter all the same, the way Anson attended to him. He took off the rest of his shirt, and his work shoes with socks. There was a little mischief in the yeendog as he also offered his pants, down to briefs, but for Anson it was just a task.
“Okay. I'm getting these in the hamper, and I need to shower. You've got some of your casuals in the closet, yeah?
Ozzie wagged his tail. He was being taken care of, and he loved it.
“Yep, I think so."
Anson nodded. He started down his hall for the bathroom. “I'll get dinner started a bit after I clean up, all right?" he called back.
Lunch AND dinner? Shit I'd be lucky if I remembered to scramble an egg, Ozzie thought.
“Sure thing babe!"
As Anson went to his business, Ozzie looked around, sinking into the couch. He could've stayed right there, forever, in nothing but briefs.
-*-
When evening approached, the couple sank into the weekday routine. Both were in casual clothes, sunset nearing. It helped them unwind before the next day approached. Granted, it was more of Anson's thing. Ozzie was often looking for a way to feed the impulsive parts of his chimera makeup this time of day. Might've been the hyena, might've been the dog, but he always wanted to prowl.
Now, he might get his chance. Again, in his head he replayed his idea, wondering how best to approach Anson. He didn't know why this was making him so anxious. Anson was his boyfriend, he would understand. He could talk to him about anything, right? Right.
They were at the couch, Anson watching television. Something with local news and politics, subjects he was far more invested in. As for Ozzie, the yeendog was content to gobble up the tasty dinner his man cooked for him: some beef mince with tossed in veggies and plump fruits to round out his pallet. Again, lots of loving details; Anson was quite mindful of Ozzie's dietary needs.
Every now and again, he glanced to the human, who appeared quite focused on local news. There had to be a perfect moment for this, right? Right.
Come the fuck on man, you hang around with boozers at shitty dive bars. You can talk to him for fuck's sake.
“Anson?" he started in his softest voice possible.
“Mmhm?" Anson didn't break his focus.
“I've got a question."
Anson shifted, still watching the screen. “Oh? About the coffee? I got a different kind, I know the other stuff was making you sick."
Ozzie chuckled. “No, no. Something else. It's important. Really important."
That got Anson's attention. He stopped, turning the television volume down, looking to his boy with some measure of concern. “Yeah? What's up?"
Ozzie ran a hand through his mane. “Shit, okay. It's uh. Not embarrassing at all, hah. Just uh. Okay man, I wanna' try something with you."
“Oh?"
“You know what knots are right? It's a thing with lots of chimera."
Curious, Anson nodded. “I do."
“Okay." Ozzie took a breath, taking out his phone. Then, he loaded the WildOn page Gabby showed him previous, pointing the screen to Anson.
“These are uh, things human guys can wear. They're basically meant to be knots. They've got a buncha' different sizes and colors and. . ."
He studied Anson's expression carefully, who took the phone and started thumbing through it. His brow furrowed, then eyes widened, then he kind of smirked.
“Wow," he said. “I didn't even know these things existed."
Ozzie wagged his tail a little. This was a good starting reaction.
“Yeah. Uh. I want to try it. I mean. I want you to wear it and, well."
A delicate silenced formed between them.
And here was the response Ozzie feared. “Oh. . . hmm. I mean. Oz, I hope I'm. . . Hopefully I'm pleasing you. Is that what this is about?"
Ozzie shook his head. “No no NO! Babe! You do! I promise. This isn't about that. It's about us. It's a thing with animals, especially dogs. Knotting is like making a bitch yours. It's hardly about the sensation. I mean, yeah, damn, it'll probably spread me wide but. . ."
Here, Ozzie tried something else. He leaned in, nipped at Anson's ear, whispering.
“I want you to tie me like a bitch pup. Put me on fours and claim me."
Anson flushed. Ozzie pulled back, staring. “Okay? You're all passion and love. You care about me. So. . . I want you to be the one to take me."
Anson didn't respond for a moment. He flashed a glance at the phone again, as if it might provide some new answer.
“Okay." He smiled. “You really want this?"
“No," said Ozzy, muzzle stretched with that handsome, toothy grin. “I want you."
Anson put his arm around the yeendog, pulling him close for a hug. “Hmm, well. It's different, but I want to make you happy."
Ozzie leaned into him, as the human started flicking through the Love Knots with growing intrigue.
“I hope I'm not asking too much, but I wanna' do this with you at a place. There's a night club, um, Blackout. Heard of it?"
Anson paused. Then, shook his head. “Don't think so."
Ozzie started to rub Anson's leg, coaxing him. “Friend was telling me about it. Apparently, it's a popular mixer. They've got a bar, dance floor. . . privacy rooms."
Anson clicked his teeth, stalling his search. “Hmm. You know I'm not much a dancer, Oz."
The yeendog was uncertain if he should press on. He felt like he was already asking a lot. But, chancing, he pursued.
“No, don't have to dance. Just a little something to get us out. I know it's not your usual thing, but, I thought it'd be fun."
Anson looked at the wall for a moment, lost in thought. “It's not that I'm saying no. It's just really different. Even our relationship. Heh, I'm not used to being someone's boyfriend. God, last time I was even serious was back home. That was. . . years ago."
Ozzie's ears lowered, sensing the offer might be declined.
“Clubs and chimera and I dunno. . . gay culture? It's really different to me. I know, I'm as plain as water and white bread, and you? You've got experiences. You know people, you've been around. You've explored this whole 'thing'."
Anson made a gesture like he was referring to a vaguely shaped object. At this, Ozzie rumbled with laughter.
“Hah? 'Gay culture'?"
Anson shrugged helplessly, looking at the yeendog. “I guess? Bars, clubs, meet and greets. It's like a secret treehouse and I don't know the password."
Ozzie gave his man a sympathetic squeeze. “What? Anson, that's. . . okay. Babe, I dunno' where you got all that from. What, like, we're supposed to walk down the coast with oiled chests and then go get our hair done? Then top it off with a 'sex on a beach' at some overpriced diner? Maybe go gossip with all the guys? Pfft."
Anson blinked. “Er, yeah? Kinda?"
Ozzie rolled his eyes. “Ugh, no. I mean sure, whatever, that works for some dudes. That's just a bunch of preppy, wasp-y posh shit, in my opinion. But no. If I ever encountered a 'culture' it was just dudes who wanted to bang dudes and tried to be inclusive about it. M'sorry you felt left out. But, believe me man, there's no secret treehouse. Anyone who made you feel that way is a real shit."
The yeendog rested his cheek on Anson's shoulder. “Is that how you feel about the club? And the strap? That it's some kind of exclusive thing?"
Anson felt warmth roil through him. That soft, sweet chimera fur was so pleasant.
“A little. Just don't have the experience for it. I'm down for it, Oz, if you want to do it. But it's still so strange to me, at least right now. Hell, I barely see that many humans around. It's kind of alien, sometimes."
Ozzie frowned. It was hard for him to relate, or even grasp what it must have felt like. Humans were on a raw decline and out here, in the southern parts of California? Well, it was a paradise for chimera. It was one thing to feel strange in a strange place. But with an entirely different species?
“I wanna' make it less strange then, Ansy. But only if you're comfortable with it. Shit, I can always get smashed and you bone me in your bedroom."
Anson chuckled. Not a terrible idea.
“It's okay," he said. “Getting out for a while can't hurt me. Can't always live in a shell."
He turned to Oz, smirking. “Just promise you won't show everyone your Kelvins tattoo if you get piss drunk?"
The yeendog looked befuddled. “Wha? I don't do that!"
He paused. “Do I?"
-*-
Ozzie got things together with excited haste. Considering just how busy Blackout was expected to be, he was fortunate to get a small room reserved for he and Anson. It was only worth an hour, and they had to claim it by 10PM, but that'd be plenty of time. The club still had a lot to offer, either on the dance floor or just a bar to get tipsy in.
The strap was ordered for overnight shipping to make it in time for the weekend. It was fun, snooping around for a size that'd fit both Anson and Ozzie. There were all sorts of shapes and “breeds," all designed for women and men. Some were replicas, some were glow in the dark, some were downright scary. But in the end, they both started with something easy: “Rascal," a bulb shaped like a wolf-knot, something to satisfy both their needs.
Much like their previous 'big dates,' they opted for Saturday evening. Close to the coast with a promise to get the most out of Blackout's night life.
With so little left in the work week, it crept up on them. Before Anson knew it, he was trying to figure out – again – what to wear. Except this time, Ozzie had him covered.
“Hell no, babe. This was my idea so I'm paying for us, all the way through. Got you some bumpin' threads just for the occasion," Ozzie had said. This translated to some form fitting, trendy men's fashion clothes, which were tasteful, but still casual.
Certainly different, but it also felt. . . good. Anson looked himself over a few times, and for the first time, felt a bit more confident. Like he was appealing, like he could hook up with someone if he wasn't already with Oz.
Ozzie, of course, was not subtle at all. Their past dates he had sort of underplayed his wilder look, but this time? Gold bands in both ears, with matching neckpiece. Rings on one hand with a wristlet on the other. Tight, slender clothes with his mane tapered to a side, neat and cared for. Hard to believe you could find him with a bunch of bikers or in the death wall of a metal concert.
When they were ready, Ozzie was practically hopping.
“Let's fucking go!"
Anson was a bit nervous, but he knew, as long as the yeendog was close, he'd be okay. They took Ozzie's car and made their way out for the evening.
Blackout was closer to the coast, trying to catch that criminally picturesque look for a hookup hotspot. And it worked. It was hard not to stare in awe as it towered as a luxurious structure of black glass and mystifying neon. With the ocean close in view, it was something out of a hazy dream.
Anson was perplexed. “This is a night club?"
Ozzie started seeking out a parking space, minding the traffic of other vehicles coming in and random chimera walking towards the building.
“Goddamn, right? Gabby wasn't kidding."
Certainly, it might as well have been several clubs stacked on each other with how far the structure towered. But, likely it was for the additional rooms, bar, diners, and whatever else the club featured.
After some struggling, Ozzie managed to find a place to park and the two prepared to enter. Anson grabbed a bag which contained some of their 'fun' items while they made their way to the entrance. Warm, evening summer air cast over them, the ever distant ebb of the coast heard in the distance.
As they approached, however, the sheer vitality of the place was overwhelming, even from the outside. Pockets and small crowds of chimera were chatting loudly, with a few humans visible amidst the variances of fur and feather. An audible thrum of music soaked the lot with tantalizing sounds, an energetic whisper taunting what lied beyond Blackout's doors.
Anson couldn't help but fidget. Small saplings of anxiety grew within him. This was like looking over a cliff and taking a dive with no safety equipment. But, Ozzie nudged him and he was reminded that he wasn't alone here, not as long as he had his boy.
“Ready?" said Ozzie, looking to him. Those quiet green eyes filled Anson with strength.
“Not even," said Anson. “But no going back now."
Once they slid past the entrance, it was like the maw of some great best swallowed them hole. They came upon the main lobby, which was some kind of avant garde artistic hodgepodge of neon waterfalls and glass statues. Great, snaking LED screens crowned the walls with sprawls of information, while a plain white carpet contrasted with the other darker hues. Yet more crowds formed at the sides, all of them draped in luxurious clothes, jewelry, scents, smiles.
Anson tried to accumulate, but every part of him was already experiencing sensory overload. He had to keep himself close to Ozzie to not just get lost in all of it.
They approached the desk and Ozzie was quick to get details sorted out with the teller. The vixen, draped in long, sparkling white hair smiled, typing into a module.
“Ahh, Mr. Ryot. I see your reservation here. You have one of the suites, 4B. Do you have any baggage you'd like to check in?"
Ozzie turned to Anson, who handed over their bag.
“Mmhm. Keep an eye on it, it's a bit fragile," Ozzie said with a hinting chuckle, passing it to the concierge.
The fox returned with her own subtle, sly smile. “We understand, Mr. Ryot. You'll find your possessions ready for you when you check in."
She tapped away at an unseen keyboard, then printed out a room ticket and handed the yeendog a card.
“That's valid at 10, in roughly two hours. While you wait, we recommend visiting the floor. New visitors get twenty percent off all drinks."
Ozzie couldn't restrain his grin. “You hear that shit?" he said, nudging Anson. “Ugh, man, tempted to get smashed now."
Anson could only imagine. “Oh god, we're never gonna get out of here, are we?"
The vixen continued to smile. “Please enjoy yourselves, gentleman. If you exit on my left can enjoy our food and chef's special, or if you want to head straight to floor just go through the door on my right."
With gleeful enthuse, Ozzie stuffed the card and ticket in pocket, tail wagging. Anson could see him come to life here, absolutely bristling with tremors of excitement. This was his environment, his life. The lights played over his jewelry and fur, making him dazzle like a silhouette of joy. He was so happy, and that made Anson happy.
“Okay!" said Oz, holding Anson by the wrists. “Your call man. Bar? Food? Floor? We got time."
The timid, conservative part of Anson immediately thought of somewhere tucked away. Like a corner at the bar, so removed from the all life consuming Blackout. But then something else came forward. Some bolder, desirous part of him. Intimidated? Certainly. But, he didn't come out with his boyfriend just to sit quietly for two hours.
“Fuckin floor, let's do it."
He wasn't sure about it, at all. But who cared at this point. He just needed Ozzie, and for Ozzie to be happy.
The yeendog beamed, as if it was the last thing he expected to hear. He didn't say anything, just cast a big grin, nipped Anson on the cheek, and tugged him along.
They went through a corridor, past couples and triples of people, all of varying shapes. So strange and otherworldly. And then, they found the door, a massive thing with bright words adorning its frame: HELL.
Oh.
Passing through it was like entering a separate dimension. At once, the couple was assaulted with the loud, voracious beats of some synthwave dance, empowered by vibrations that rattled them to their hearts, coupled with lights of such powerful hue it was amazing they even existed as colors.
Anson didn't even know if words existed to properly describe the sheer vitality of the floor, if there were phrases to made to capture the unrelenting, uncompromising force behind it all. It was a sea of dancing shadows and shapes, writhing to music and lights, doused with alcohol and drugs.
Above, there were additional floors for seats, no doubt for mixer couples to get to “know" each other a little better. It was so much at once, so overpowering. It didn't make sense. So Anson looked at the only thing which did.
The sounds were so loud he could barely hear himself. Ozzie leaned into his ear.
“Holy FUCK this is insane man!"
Anson was just nonplussed. “I know!" he yelled. “The hell do we do? I can't even see a foot in front of me!"
Lead me, Anson thought. Get me through this hell.
Where Anson was strained, Ozzie was natural. Where Anson felt his hand clench, Ozzie looked relaxed, at ease, joyous.
His next words, then, weren't too surprising.
“Dance with me babe! C'mon!"
Was Anson a dancer? No. Did he have any experience with it? No. Was he probably going to make a fool of himself? Oh yes.
But he didn't resist. Despite all the people and sounds and smells, there was only one world that mattered to him now: Ozzie. The yeendog was just too overjoyed. He wanted to dance, be in this throbbing mass of power. Anson wouldn't deny him that. And he kind of wanted to be part of it too.
Those sweet, padded paw-hands pulled him into the vibrant mass and from there they were just consumed. Ozzie found them a space, if a space was even possible to find. Under them, flashing lights ran through the floor while the music burst into new levies of bass heavy sound.
“Just remember," Anson yelled, “I can't dance!"
A playful remark. But Ozzie wasn't deterred. “It's okay!" he said back.
He pressed his lithe body into Anson's, taking the human's hands and putting them to hips.
“Just move with me! Don't worry about anything else!"
At once, Ozzie began to shift his lean frame in lithe, rolling motions, letting his frame react to the music, a catalyst for the sound. It was so. . . formless. In fact, everything about it was reactionary, impulsive. There was no routine or method, not exactly.
“Look at me and forget everything!"
He wasn't wrong. Anson was too self-conscious here. Worried that someone might be looking, or that a secret sect of judges were scrutinizing his every move. No. That didn't exist. No one else cared. The crowd was too busy enjoying itself.
So, to his best degree, Anson tried to mimic the yeendog. Stiffly, of course. He wasn't sure what parts of himself to move, or when, or how really. But did that matter?
In fact, he chanced a glance around him. It didn't. None of the other chimera or humans were moving in such a way that was distinct. They just were. It was either rambunctious or subtle. Arms tossed, hips swaying.
With all this, a new thought dawned on Anson: wait, this was it? What was even worried about anymore? The night life, all at once, didn't seem so strange or intangible anymore. For the first time in a long time, Anson felt. . . comfortable.
And so he did. He forgot all of it: his life, his work, where he lived. He only moved, with Ozzie, entwining with the only person that would ever matter to him. They shifted and danced together, becoming one, a single silhouette enchanted by the ferocious ambiance of the dance floor.
For Ozzie, it didn't go unnoticed. The yeendog's chest fluttered, his ears perked, breath quickened. His man was getting comfortable, and, dare he think it? Having fun? The ol' stiff with his schedules and routines, blitzed out in territory that couldn't have been more far removed from normalcy.
So, he draped his arms around Anson's shoulders and kept pace, squeezing them tighter. Through all of the sensory overlord, Oz caught something else too: just a hint of arousal.
-*-
They were on the floor far longer than either expected. By the time there was a brief, intermittent pause between music, Anson was glistening with sweat while Ozzie had started to pant. Deciding to stop, they left the floor to catch their breath.
Ozzie was wired, no doubt, overloaded on the experience. HELL was far more than he expected, for the better.
They left the massive room and decided on drinks, at least to get prepped for what they really came for. The bar was stocked with everything they could've wanted, Ozzie finding himself comforted by an overpriced bottle of Longboat.
Anson wasn't much for bitterness, so settled on a hard cider. But it was enough to chase the banquet of sound they just experienced, a nice intermission before they tasted 'dessert.'
Oddly, they were quieter than usual. Silent in anticipation, aside from a few comments here or there, eagerly awaiting time to shift. Moments would come to discuss everything later, but something a bit more important was just on the horizon.
Finally, near 10PM arrived. They had a few minutes to pay their tab and get situated. The rooms were on a farther side of Blackout, beyond the bar and diner, likely to help muffle the noise of the dance floor.
Ozzie placed his padded paw hand over Anson's, rubbing it with exploring, sensual touches, casting his man a wanting gaze.
“Let's go."
They went to an elevator, which transferred them to the fourth floor of the building. Upon stepping out, it was like entering a completely different place. All the strange modernistic fetishes were absent down the hall, replaced by elegant scarlet carpeting and painted walls. Tasteful paintings were hung on either side and potted plants rested near each room door.
4B was easy to find, room second on their left. Pulling out his card, Ozzie unlocked the door and the two entered, shutting out the world behind him.
Despite its use as a 'short term' room, everything about the room was certainly fit for a hotel. All necessary furniture and fixings were there, including one massive, luxurious bed. Cleaners probably had a bitch of a time dealing with it.
Upon the bed rested their baggage, to which Ozzie went to immediately.
Anson, on the other hand, let himself adjust. His mind was fuzzy on alcohol, arousal, and excitement. Looking at his lovely lean yeendog boy didn't help.
“Okay, let's see what we got. . ." Ozzie muttered, taking out the items. From it, he retrieved specialized lubricant and the much desired Love-Knot, setting it aside.
Anson approached, taking a look himself. He chuckled.
“Wow. That's a thing all right."
He looked at the box, “Rascal," which sported an illustration of a randy looking wolf and the accompanying knot. It looked odd to Anson, like an extra set of testes, or some kind of balloon on your cock.
“Mmmhmm," said Ozzie with a sly smile. He turned, pressing his muzzle against Anson's lips.
“You want to get started? Or need anything else?"
Anson kissed back, holding the lean figure against him. He drank in that wonderful face, those handsome, gorgeous features, the black spots along gray fur, his light, black streaked mane, his wiggling tail. Ugh.
Goddammit Ozzie.
Anson shook his head. “I'm ready. And. . . thanks for convincing me to come with you. This has been really fun."
The yeendog pressed a whiskery muzzle into Anson's neck, smiling. “Mmm_._ I'm glad, man."
Then, his hand trailed down to massage Anson's crotch, feeling through the fabric to caress his nuts.
“And yeah, I want you to come, all right."
Anson grunted, his shaft immediately stirring. Ozzie smirked, retrieving the box to open it, pulling out the contents.
Like a dog with a new bone, he stared at it. “Ooooh. . ."
Indeed, it was certainly impressive looking, quite realistic. The mold was a complex material made to simulate flesh and it was colored a rich pink. The bulb was large, though not overly so, enough that Ozzie could actually get the thing inside him. For Anson, there was a whole which would allow his shaft to slip through and sit comfortably at the base of his malehood. No extra buckles or buttons either, just a suction which promised to hold itself tight enough while things got heated.
Anson blinked. “You uh. . . think you can help get that on me?"
Ozzie growled with a chuckle. “You just wanna' get me on my knees, don't you?"
“Well. . ."
Ozzie didn't let him finish. Rather, let his paw-hand slip over crotch again, feeling for the hidden member. He set the Bulb aside momentarily, proceeding to unstrap the clothes from Anson's hips.
Anson kicked out of his shoes, feeling cool air hit his waist as the yeendog skillfully yanked off pants, his hidden girth cloaked by briefs. Licking his chops, Ozzie went to his knees, removing the undergarments so Anson's malehood was free to spring forth. The hardening flesh nuzzled against Ozzie's muzzle, who pressed his lips over the crown, looking up as he ran a tongue against it.
It never got old for Anson. He groaned, breath caught, watching handsome face service his cock with an assault of smooches and licks. Ozzie would let the inches slip into his maw, suckling with warm, nuanced pressure, before popping it free.
“Nng, not too much Oz, we'll never get the damn thing on at this rate. . ."
Ozzie hardly paid him mind, letting his nose sip at masculine scent. Ahh, recognition. That distinct perfume of human flesh and oil mingling with arousal. It was totally Anson. Scent of a mate.
Ozzie persued, running his flat tongue against Anson's tested. “Nnm? Maybe I don't wanna' now. Kinda' remember I like lickin' your dick a lot."
Anson was forced to watch his length vanish inside that sloppy muzzle again, a lewd opera of sucks emanating from his action. Admittedly he could watch it for hours, do it for hours, just have Oz service his shaft til' day became night.
“Yeah? I'd rather fuck you into the sheets."
Oh, that was different. Anson hardly believed the words as they left him. Yet, after the night, the aggression, the sound, the alcohol, something new was stirring inside him. He loved Ozzie to death, and making passionate love was such a rewarding experience. But so was fucking the yeendog into raw submission.
Ozzie took the hint, his face flushing. “That's I want to hear."
The yeendog grabbed the knot, adjusting it carefully.
“Just tell me if it hurts or if it's uncomfortable, kay?"
Anson nodded, watching Ozzie press the bulb along his shaft. Nothing so strange, really. A gentle, slick sensation danced over his loins, tight enough so the knot didn't wobble but loose enough it didn't cause pain. Carefully, Ozzie pushed it down, until it rested at Anson's base.
He kind of had to laugh. “Haha, ahh. That's a weird dick."
Ozzie chuckled too. “Yeah? I like weird."
The yeendog stood, pulling off his form fitting shirt. He kept the jewelry, however, adding an exotic flair to his half naked form. He did the same for Anson, stripping the human bare, rubbing and kissing at the exposed chest.
Anson shuddered. His hands went to Ozzie's hips, starting to tug at the form-hugging jeans, unbuttoning. The yeendog obliged with his own touches, pulling out of tethers so his lean form bared itself. Once the briefs came off, Anson was free to admire his lover's form all over again. It never got old.
“Fuck, Ozzie, you're so handsome. Beautiful bastard."
Ozzie smirked. “Mmm, you say this every time." He started to make for the bed, hoisting himself up so he was on all fours, his tail teasingly placed between split of perky rump.
“Only cause it's true."
Anson went to his boy, palms reaching to grip and squeeze the generous haunches, letting digits caress and explore. This drew a few pleased grumbles from Oz, who tossed his tail to the side, revealing his solid satin ring and black testes.
“Nnf. Then come tie your beautiful bitch."
Ozzie's expression was drowning in want, no doubt amplified by the alcohol and night's excitement. Anson was more than happy to oblige, his own animal lusts starting to bubble to the surface. The idea of mounting him like a mate in the wild. . . it was tantalizing.
But even Anson wasn't a fool to dive right in. Not yet. Especially not with the Bulb which could easily hurt Ozzie if he wasn't careful.
Instead, he went to Oz and leaned, letting his lips and tongue caress the outer pucker. This caused Ozzie to shake, spreading his thighs, shivering with moans. He wasn't expecting Anson to lick him there.
“Ohhf, babe," mewled the yeendog, looking back. Indeed, Anson readied his partner with loving licks and gentle smooches, using the pad of his fingers to nuzzle and massage the rim of the entrance.
It was a merciless tease. But Ozzie wanted it to happen. Giving his body to Anson, to let the human explore him, play with him. . . that was its own thrill. His tail wagged and his ears perked from the lewd chorus of sounds emerging behind him, Ozzie grabbing a pillow to cling to while his lover warmed him up.
“Good?" Anson asked. Ozzie mumbled in approval.
“Unfm, very. Didn't think. . ."
His words were cut off as something else nuzzle his anal entrance. Ozzie sucked in a breath, recognizing the crown of Anson's cock. Just pushing, rubbing, threatening to enter. The yeendog squirmed, grunting in lustful frustration.
“Fuuuuuck, don't do that baaabe, I want it!" he whined.
Anson smirked, high on the act, grabbing the specialty lubricant and pouring a healthy dollop of the viscous liquid over his length. He made sure to cover the knot too, adamant it was needed.
“Shhh, pup, you'll get it."
Ozzie feigned a whine, pushing his hips back, as if trying to catch the cock himself. Instead, he got a stern hand on the rump, squeezing, holding him in place.
Content that Ozzie was relaxed enough, Ozzie obliged his lover. He shoved himself in, slowly, spreading that little black ring while the yeendog twitched. The lubricant made entry quite easy, ensuring no pain, even adding a bit of suckling pressure to the act.
Anson pressed until the knot nuzzle the pucker, but he didn't go further. He assumed once the knot was in his movement would be quite limited.
“Ffffuuuuck," Ozzie groaned, biting the pillow. He was helpless now, at the mercy of his man. And that's just how he wanted it.
Anson hilted himself, pressed completely. His size, the couple discovered, was perfect for massaging Ozzie's prostate, the tip able to bump and caress the little “love button." Anson leveraged this advantaged by coming on the bed, holding the yeendog close, angled so he could hit the point with loving accuracy.
“Nnnn! Anson, god! M-man!"
Ozzie was really at a loss. All he could do was whimper and groan as the human male started to drive his hips into the awaiting pucker. Anson rung his arm under the lean yeendog frame, palm gripping the twitching, erect satin cock, caressing it while he thrust from behind.
Bliss. It was really hard to put it any other way. To be handled, controlled, claimed. Anson was banging himself into the yeendog, using him, exploring. And that's just what Ozzie wanted. With one hand clenched to pillow, the other hung around Anson's neck, encouraging the harsh fuck, coaxing firmer and stronger motions.
Every breath sent Ozzie into a hazy, aroused world of want. To hear Anson's breath tickle him, the way his fur caressed exposed skin, the perfect manner in which his cock spread his anal ring. Every impact sent waves of renewed pleasure through him, an almost agonizing pleasure, exciting his shaft.
“Bitch," Anson said through clenched teeth. “You're my bitch now!"
Ozzie was squirming. Ugh, god, to hear that. To hear his man break out of his shell and just give in.
“Yes! Yes! Nnf! Anson!"
Ozzie arched his neck, trying to buck his hips against the thrusts, though he was at the mercy of Anson's motions.
Though, it didn't matter. He could feel the human cock twitch, pulse. Like it was ready to burst. But with an impressive level of self-control, Anson stopped, pulling out for a moment.
Then, he shoved himself into Ozzie once more, teasing with the knot. And then pushed. His fingers came to mingle into Oz's muzzle, who responded with servile, sucking licks, and then whines. Because now the yeendog could feel the bulb start to spread him wide.
“NNNN!"
Ozzie froze. A strange, delightful sensation formed through him. The lubricant of the knot made pushing in easier, but it was still splitting him.
“Just tell me if I should stop," Anson grunted, watching the bulb slip deeper, suckled by that utterly abused pucker.
Ozzie was shaking, but shook his head. “Keepgoingkeepgoing!"
The yeendog's free hand clenched the pillow, as did his muzzle, whining and mewling until. . . the knot was in. Anson's tip nuzzled prostate, threatening to burst, while the knot took residence in its new hole.
At this point, Ozzie felt such intense physical bliss his eyes were tearing up. Anson held him close, mouth on neck, biting, nipping, claiming, attempting short little ruts while he was still locked inside his partner.
“Shit, holyshit, yes, nnnngngn!"
Ozzie was lost. His shaft, once again massaged and serviced by Anson's palm, shook to life, squirting a hot spew of white seed along the sheets. The spasms sent those long hot spurts hard enough he might as well have drilled into the mattress, bucking and shaking with each wave of issue.
The fact that Anson was still inside him coaxed a ruthless wave of pleasure and near-pain. Anson's rutting was still hitting his prostate, sending warm shivers through the yeendog's loins, and he had to make every effort to hold on.
Helplessly, his free arm clung to Anson as the human finished coaxing his cock inside Ozzie's rectum, afraid he'd fall of the damn bed with all his writhing.
“GGNN! Bitch pup!" Anson growled, biting into Ozzie's neck as his orgasm finally peaked, sending rivers of hot white into the accepting tunnel.
Ozzie held for dear life, whining loudly, licking the fingers, letting Anson claim him, tie him, knot him. The Bulb assured that not even a drop of semen could escape, so exquisitely tight.
Thick, hot breaths mingled between the two. Anson's shaft softened, relieving its touch from Ozzie's prostate, like a finger removed from an 'orgasm' button. The afterglow, however, tingled with rapturous sensations, a powerful buzzle that left the couple sensitive to any touch, so intense was their peak.
All they could do was hold on to each other, let it fade, let sense find its way back into their mind.
When that moment came, Anson started to pull back, but Ozzie growled.
“Nnf, no, no. Don't you dare. Stay inside me. Please."
Anson gave a dry chuckle. “If I do, I might have to fuck you again."
Ozzie laughed, weakly. “Isn't that the idea?"
Eventually, Anson pulled free, though with great care. The knot loosed itself with an audible 'pop,' sparing little room for seed to drip, Ozzie licking his chops like he'd just had a delicious meal.
The human held his partner, letting their forms mingle, Ozzie returning with whiskery muzzle touches.
It didn't take long before they were at it again.
-*-
Damn. I don't envy anyone who had to clean up after us. Let's just hope they do a good job, right?
At least the owners were smart enough to provide showers. We cleaned up and headed home not too long after, though we stopped to grab some grub.
I guess my plan worked? I didn't expect it to, honestly. Not that well, anyway. Anson's reserved and kept together, I'm raunchy and wild. How I managed to pull a different side out of him, I don't know. Guess it was always there.
I'm looking at him again, sleeping. We're at his place, in his bed, in our home. But it's a little different now. He tied me down. He got me to whine for him. And I don't think I'd want it any other way.
Tomorrow? You know what, I think I'm good with some routine. Maybe I'll try some cooking for a change.
Maybe I'll try a lot of things, just like he did.