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"You know, you should get yourself a girlfriend, Lewis."

"Yeah, yeah..."

Lewis sat with his arms cross in front of him, his dishevelled expression one of utter defeat. It was early in the morning, and he sat in the library next to childhood friend and long-time gaming buddy, Felix. The two of them had spent their whole lives playing video games and not concerning themselves with the likes of girls, or relationships, but now...well, things were changing.

In his second year of university, Lewis was growing bored with life, and with himself. He was 20 years of age, on the cusp of the prime of his life. As an anthropomorphic canine, certain things were expected of him, and one of them was a plentiful family, or at least some sort of semblance of a love life. But for Lewis, it was practically the opposite: he'd never really had any sort of luck with women.

Felix poured over the book in front of him, pinching the bridge of his nsout and reaching for his cup, taking a long sip. Felix had it easy. Though he was never really all that interested in girls, he had the natural charisma and looks to attract them. He was an African Wild Dog in origin, with a mixture of brown, cream, and white fur all over his body and large, adorable ears that were endearing enough to bring people in, where his charm hooked into them.

Lewis was quite the opposite. He was a little shorter than most, barely over 5 foot 7 inches, and he didn't have any charisma at all. At least, he thought, he had the confidence to talk to strangers without bottling up. He had that going for him. As an alaskan malamute, he had an enticing aura around him: his fluffy fur was often the topic of most conversations with strangers, and to that end, he always attempted to work on his appearance. Even still, he always found himself wearing unflattering clothes subconsciously: just that morning, he'd thrown on some loose shorts and a hoodie 2 sizes too big for him to meet up with Felix at the local coffee shop. Had he actually paid attention to what he was wearing, it might have been different.

The malamute rolled back in his head and groaned, rubbing at his eyes. Why did Felix have to wake him up at 8am? It was the weekend. Couldn't they have slept in a little longer? But, then again, Felix was always a bit of a busybody.

"So, Lewis," His friend began, and Lewis glanced in his direction, pulling his phone from his pocket. "There's this party."

"You've got me hooked." Lewis drawled cynically, flicking through his social feed with a thumb. He paused on a picture of his parents in Miami and scowled. Whilst he wished them all the best, he had never really had the best relationship with them, especially with his mother. He was glad to have moved out. He sighed through his nose, before flicking further down. So many people he knew from school were already so successful, and here he was, in his second year of studying Computer Engineering, with barely a merit to his name. His brow furrowed with annoyance.

"Tonight, at 9pm, until god knows what hours. Apparently some rich kid at uni decided to invite a whole bunch of people. Doesn't matter who you are, you can turn up. Sounds good, right?" Felix beamed, and Lewis glanced over at him, offering a sort of wry smile.

"Uh...sure." Lewis didn't like parties. Well, it wasn't that he hated them, it was just that there was never anything to do. He'd often go and drink and get a little drunk, but he never enjoyed the experience that others had, the drunken one-night-stands, the fights, the blackouts. He always felt like he never understood them. Maybe he just wasn't drinking enough.

"You don't sound very enthusiastic." Felix glared, and Lewis felt himself withering from his friend's gaze. He grinned awkwardly and scratched his head, and Felix sighed through his nose, looking back to his book.

"We're going. And you're gonna get a girl's number." Felix demanded, and Lewis nodded solemnly, accepting his fate.

In truth, there was more to his complete lack of any girlfriends than met the eye.

They sat there for several hours, lost in conversation. They talked about the upcoming comi-con expo that was happening at the end of the month. They dabbled in topics of their studies and upcoming games and newly released trailers. Eventually, they had overstayed their welcome and decided to part ways, but not before Felix had insisted that Lewis get his shit together for tonight. Felix would text him the address. Lewis blew a long sigh at the thought of it.

The malamute lived on campus at Ivory Peaks University, in the Hovel House. It was a weird name for a dormitory, but he never complained about it: his room was cosy, even if it lacked the facilities of his parent's house.

He slipped the key into the lock and stepped into his room, closing the door behind him with a sigh. He was exhausted. The thought of the party later nagged at the back of his mind and he decided he needed to let off a little steam. Maybe it would calm him down.

He stripped his heavy hoodie from his body and grabbed his laptop from the small desk, sitting on his bed. Once quick glance to the door assured him it was locked, before he settled in on the bed, flipping the lid of his laptop and watching it power on and churn to life. He found his hands hesitating over the keys, wondering what he was doing. A sigh escaped his nose, and he typed in an address.

It was no surprise that a budding 20 year old would regularly look at porn, and Lewis was no stranger to the delights of the internet and it's vast array of porn sites. He found his tastes flicking from one thing to the other, but he always ended up looking at more or less of the same thing.

He watched the screen, the bouncing hips of a voluptuous woman, her rhythmic hips slamming down onto a man's rather impressive member, his bulbous knot squishing up against her tight entrance. Lewis stirred and reached down, groping his crotch as he balanced his laptop on his knees. He felt himself stiffening under his own touch and his eyes surveyed the video before him. He always seemed to find his eyes drifting not to her body, but to the sight of her hold sliding up and down his cock. His gaze trailed to the man's knot, his heavy ballsack. His ears twisted and turned to the sounds of her moans and his grunts.

He found himself touching his cock not to the woman's voluptous body, but to the man's member, watching as his balls swayed up and down, his hips pistoning into her. He moved on to a new video, where a man was pile-driving his cock into a woman's behind. The back shot of the video showed nothing but his hips slamming into her, his balls pushing against her ass as she groaned. He moved on further, and further, sinking deeper into the rabbit hole.

It felt like hours had passed, but in truth, it was barely a few minutes or more. He'd moved on from his choice of videos into something more depraved. No longer was he looking at the typical heterosexual encounters, but homosexual ones instead. The videos sent him almost into a trance, driven by lust and the desire the jerk off. He watched video after video of men kissing and groping one-another, touching their cocks against each other's body, fucking each other in the ass. Lewis's hand wildly tugged and stroked his cock, bashing his knot until his member felt raw and numb.

He was nearing his peak. The heat of the moment, the sweet, bitter taste of gay sex had sent him into a frenzy. He sat the laptop down and rapidly stroked his member, feeling his knot swelling, reminding him he was close. A groan escaped his lips, and he spurted thick ropes of cum onto his stomach to the thought of two men against one-another, the thought of them having sex. He unloaded his seed against his fur and felt the warmth of it soak against him. In the aftermath of his orgasm, his mind cleared the hazy cloud of lust, giving him a sense of clarity.

He reased an arm to his head and gritted his teeth in frustration. Again. He'd done it again.

Lewis came from troubled roots. His parents weren't religious, but they weren't exactly progressive, either. They still lived in the ways of the 60s, when being gay was still something to be frowned upon. Even as a child, Lewis could sense their homophobia, and it was to that end that, as he grew older, he became more and more terrified with what he was becoming.

In truth, he had little interest in girls, but he wanted to be interested in them. Yet, when he found himself giving in to what he wanted, his true tastes showed. He was gay, through and through: the thought of a woman did nothing for him, but the mere thought of a rather attractive man could make his loins stir.

But he couldn't be. He shouldn't be. He could only imagine the terror of being disowned by his parents: sure, he lived on his own in university now, but he always had them to fall back on, a safety net in the event of his downfall. All that would change if they found out.

And it wasn't just them, but everyone. It had already happened once before, in secondary school. Lewis's lack of any extra-curicular activities or interest in sports had sparked a dangerous rumor, one that was technically true, to a degree. Word had spread that he was 'gay', that he was only interested in 'boys', and that had sparked ridicule and bullying. He couldn't show his face at the canteen without being harrassed by someone. I was to that end that he had spent much of his time alone, but they always found him. At that time, the only friend he could rely on was Felix. The wild dog had always been a bit of a masochist, or so he liked to say. Lewis knew that was always just a joke, but he was always left wondering why Felix put himself in harm's way for the sake of their friendship. It wasn't right.

So, Lewis bottled it down, and had done for some time. He couldn't be gay. He didn't want to be gay. No amount of coaxing from any man could put him over the edge. Yet, in these moments of clarity, he felt himself on the verge of tears, covered in his own seed.

Hours passed before he finally got his shit together and got up. He yanked down his shirt to cover himself and grabbed a towel, stepping out of his room and wandering down the hallway. He'd have a shower. That would help him clear his head. Plus, he couldn't go to a party with dried cum on his stomach.

The warm water above his head helped him return to his senses and push all those negative feelings away, at least for the moment. He couldn't face them again, at least not now. There was just too much going on, and he was far too high strung to be thinking about it. He ran his hands down his lean body, his average frame, tracing his fingers over his stomach and looking down at his slightly disdended belly. He needed to work on losing a bit of weight.

Satisfied, he stepped out after 20 minutes or so, quickly drying himself off and slipping on his dressing gown, which he had brung with him. He made sure he looked the part before he stepped out of the bathroom, briskly crossing down the hallway back to his dorm room. He was always a little anxious about being out of his room, especially when he had showered. Along the hallway itself sat 6 other doors. That was 6 other people to share the shower with. He'd run into them a couple of times and found himself overcome with embarrassment before.

It was dark outside, and he checked his phone for the time. A notification flashed on his screen below the clock: a text from felix, reminding him of the address. He had an hour or so to get ready. Picking out his clothes was the hardest part, but he'd eventually resigned to a loose zip-up hoodie with a nice shirt underneath and a pair of long, regular-fit jeans. He didn't want to overdress, but he didn't want to look scruffy either. He stared at himself in the mirror. Did he look approachable? Attractive? Friendly? He hoped so.

The journey to the house was long, if only because the party's location was on the other side of the city. Though, when Felix said the guy was rich, he was definitely underselling it.

When Lewis arrived, he couldn't believe the sight before him. The place was practically a mansion, with balconies all along the front on the second floor, people partying and leaning over the railings. The party appeared to be in full swing, and the door was wide open. Lewis stepped through the iron gates and along the clean-cut path, up the stairs and into the house. He felt nervous, but he was optimistic.

The place was crawling with booze, drugs, and sex. Everyone Lewis looked, there were people doing shots, snorting coke, or even out-right groping and kissing one-another in front of him. Lewis assumed that this is what happens when you invite effectively anyone to your party. He couldn't even see the African Wild Dog anywhere, and with a sigh, stepped through the crowd. His goal: the kitchen. That was usually the hotbed for alcohol.

He wormed his way through various people until he was finally standing at the far end of the kitchen in the corner, leaning up against the marble counter tops. It was ultimately just a little too crowded, and in truth, Lewis had no intention of trying to socialise. There were simply too many people. He could barely hear the person next to him.

"A little packed, isn't it?"

Someone next to him spoke, and he turned to see a rather petite girl standing next to him: a slimly, gothic-dressed woman with long flowing black hair and tawny, avian features. Just about everything about her was black, from her feathers to her clothes, but the piercing gaze of her purple eyes gave her a certain sense of mystery. Lewis found himself awkwardly grinning, before rubbing the back of his head.

"U-Um, yeah," He raised his voice to speak over the crowd of people. "Not really my scene."

"Me neither." She shouted back at him, turning to her right for a brief moment. Lewis assumed she had lost interest already, but he was surprised when she held out a small bottle of cider for him. He tentatively took it and shot her a glance. Her peculiarly warm smile was a sharp contrast to her depressive features. Yet, Lewis found himself smiling as well. He took a swig of the drink in front of him.

They found themselves talking at length, surprisingly. Her name was Amy, and she apparently studied at the same university he did. When he asked her how she found out about the party, she explained that there were a heap of flyers plastered up around the campus. Lewis felt a little embarrassed for having not seen them before.

They eventually took their conversation outside, where the thumping music and loud shouting of the party therein was muffled and distant. Their throats were thankful for the cool breeze and quieter tones, and it made it easier for the two of them to talk. Lewis wanted to say to her that he'd never really felt a connection with a woman before, but he decided to keep it to himself: as much as he felt strangely fond of her already, he was at least socially adept enough to realise when something sounded a little too creepy.

"So, Computer Engineering, huh? Must be fun." She remarked, and Lewis shook his head, smirking down at his bottle.

"You ever get that feeling where...you get into your degree thinking it's going to be fun, and it's not?" He asked her, and she grinned holding up her bottle as if to acknowledge his feelings, taking a drink. It seemed both of them shared that sentiment, and that brief insight made both of them chuckle ever so softly.

The night drew on, and before either of them realised it, they were leaning into the early hours of the next morning. By the time it neared 1am, Lewis was beginning to feel the stirrings of tiredness within him, his shoulders sagging and his eyes stinging. Even Amy was yawning. It seemed like aa good time to end things, at least for that moment.

"I should go home," Amy was the first to speak, and Lewis nodded understandably. "Here."

She dug into her pocket and retrieved a small piece of scrunched up paper. She moved her hand into her other pocket and groaned in frustrating when she couldn't find what she was looking for. Instead, she found her mascara, and considered that worthy enough. She retrieved the tool from inside and smeared it onto the paper, writing out a series of numbers. WHen she was done, she folded it and placed it in his hands.

"My number." She elaborated, getting to her feet and offering him a small smile. "...Call me, okay?"

She stepped back and turned, leaving without so much as a goodbye. She sure knew how to make an exit, Lewis thought, as he looked down at the paper in his hand. Felix would be ecstatic to learn that Lewis had managed to get a girl's number for once. Hell, they might even celebrate with a party of their own.

For now, however, his eyes were heavy. He blearily blinked, and got to his feet. His legs moved on their own and he made his way out of the party, back out into the street and towards his home.

The walk wasn't long, but it felt tiresome. By the time he reached his dorm, he was aching for sleep. He rolled onto his bed and dug out his phone, pulling the paper from his pocket with Amy's number on it. He realised that the mascara had smudged a little, but he tried his best to make out the numbers as he put it into his phone, and sent a text: 'I'll text you tomorrow'. Satisfied, he placed it down and relaxed, sighing into his pillow.

Sleep beckoned, and he embraced it.

---

"Alright, everyone. That's us for today. Please make sure to bring your props tomorrow so we can begin reherals properly. Okay?"

'Thank god that's over', Quinn thought as he blew a long sigh of relief. The others around him began to stand and waved him goodbye, and he smiled at each of them in turn, before getting to his feet and collecting up papers and snacks at the far end of the room. Today had been a disaster.

The meeting had gone as planned, but no-one seemed confident in their role. What was the point of leading a drama troupe on the university's campus if no-one was going to act? Quinn quietly seethed to himself as he stacked the papers and made sure they lined up, muttering to himself in the process.

Maybe he was too judgemental. Maybe he was reading too much into things. But was that a crime? No! He wanted this performance to be perfect. It was his masterpiece, his magnum opus.

Quinn was, and had always been, a little dramatic. He'd always had that flair since he was a young age, and it had grown into being the embodiment of what he was today. Whilst he didn't actively seek drama, he always had a particular inclination to start it, even when it might not be strictly necessary. Other than that, he tried his best to be kind: as his fathers always said, a man who can be self-aware of his actions is someone who can always strive to be a better person.

"E-Excuse me. Quinn?" Someone behind him spoke, and the tall, 21 year old Norwegian Elkhound turned to stare down at one of his sound directors, Colin, who had always been known for being a little shy, and significantly short.

"Colin, my dear," Quinn began with a wide smile. "What do you need? I was just about to head out."

"O-Oh, well...I was wondering if, um..." Colin trailed off and anxiously fidgeted. Quinn knew immediately what the aspiring canine was likely to ask, and he felt a little pang of guilt. He ruffled the 18 year old's head and sighed.

"Sorry, honey. You're just a little too shy for me." Quinn felt back for rejecting him, but this rejection now might help Colin get his confidence to try with other people, or at least reflect on himself better. The smaller canine's nose wrinkled and he sighed through his nose, looking a little dejected.

"Oh, it's, um...I mean, I...okay." Colin turned and briskly walked out, barelling his way through the door behind Quinn could see him. The canine felt another pang of guilt.

Quinn had always been openly gay. This wasn't a secret to anyone who met him; if they didn't see it in his mannerisms, they would likely found out through the popular cruising app 'Woofr', or he would simply tell them. Despite what others might say about him, Quinn always took pride in his sexuality, and he had his two fathers to thank for that.

Quinn was born into a same-sex family, who only believed in love and believing in yourself. They pushed him to do better in his studies, and changed course whenever his dreams took a different direction. They were kind and moderately wealthy, but always had time for him when he was younger. It was to that end that he was always so fond of them, and knew exactly what it meant to be gay. After all, his fathers had advocated for gay rights back in the 70s. They were getting older now and enjoying a more relaxing lifestyle, but for Quinn, the world was his oyster.

His phone chimed, and the grey and black furred canine reached into his pocket to view his notifations. A number of matches on Woofr popped up for him, reminding him to reply to a few people. There were plenty of attractive men that caught his eye.

Tonight, however, he had bigger plans. It was the buzz on campus, a rich kid having a party at his parent's mansion. Of course, Quinn knew the full scoop: he had 'spies' in all manner of places that liked to tell him all the best gossip. He lived for the thrill of sharing secrets, and this was one for the ages. The rich kid was only throwing the party because he lacked the social skills to actually get with girls normally. Apparently, he was a 3rd year student studying programming languages and barely spoke in every single lecture, even outside of it. His apparently plan is to get flat-out drunk and hook up with someone at the party whilst his parents are on a business trip.

It sounded innocent enough, but the fact that he was inviting 'anyone' made it tantalising. Of course, the flyers around campus made it pretty clear that the majority of the people who were going to be there were likely to be students in their early 20's. That suited Quinn just fine: he was interested in grabbing a particularly cute guy or two.

It wasn't until tonight, however, leaving him free for the afternoon. Well, sort of; he still had a schedule to adhere to. First things first: lunch with his usual troupe of boys.

Quinn often hung out with 3 other men in particular, all of whom were in the same year as him, but studied different degrees. Quinn himself was aiming for a masters in the performing arts, but the others in his group took completely different courses, from mechanical engineering to physics and mathematics. But one thing commonly bound them together: their sexuality. It was a little cliche for a gay guy to hang around other gay guys, but it was those people who always typically understood where he was coming from, compared to most things at least.

His lunchtime meetup was sweet. They offered little in the way of gossip, but there was enough for them to keep up constant conversation. But one topic always popped up.

"When you gonna find yourself a cute boyfriend, Quinn? Damn, you're always cruisin' and playin'..." One of them spoke, voicing his disapproval of Quinn's typical 'pump and run' lifestyle.

"I have my reasons. I haven't found the one yet." Quinn assured them every time, but every time they offered the same rebuttal.

"You say that every time!" Another exclaimed. "This isn't a romance movie, or some slice of life novel. You have to settle down one way or the other, or you're going to be lonley for the rest of your life."

"It's a common misconception that gay guys cruise all the time," Another chimed in. "In fact, the majority of us tend to get married."

"I just don't feel the need to settle so soon," Quinn explained nonchalantly, whilst sipping his iced frappe. "What's wrong with having friends you can also, you know, fool around with?"

That often made them go silent. As much as they wanted to take the high road, the majority of them were guilty for it. But, who can blame them? It happens in a heterosexual relationships and friendships almost as much as gay ones. Quinn had fooled around with a couple of the people in his group already. Many women enjoyed the pleasures of a one-night-stand, it seemed only fair for the gay community to not hold itself to the same standard. Though, there was always the stigma...

After lunch was over, Quinn retreated to his apartment to get a change of clothes. Quinn parent's weren't just a little wealthy, but considerably so. They had a good amount of money saved up in funds that they were using to rent out an apartment for Quinn to live in for the time being, under the promise that he'd get a job and start paying the rent himself once he'd finished university. The only thing that Quinn had to pay out on was food and his own utility bills such as the internet. For that, he worked part time at a bar over the weekends, often running late into the evening. The short 18 hour weeks with occasional overtime gave him more than enough to cover what he needed.

He lounged for a considerable length of time, primarily going over the rehersal for his theatre troupe tomorrow. They were doing a play on Macbeth, and whilst Quinn had reluctantly delegated the main role to someone else, there was still a considerable amount to do as director of the performance, which included gathering up the lighting and sound people, co-ordinating his actors, and more. It's a tiresome job, of sorts, but he found himself enjoying it. He could have personally liked to be on the main stage, however.

As the time drew near, Quinn opted to take a long bath and enjoy himself, before conditioning his fur and making sure he looked his best. Clothes were a non-issue: he had just about everything for any occasion, and this time he opted for a slightly unbuttoned shirt and tight-fitting jeans that accentuated his curves. Satisfied, he headed out.

The rich kid knew how to throw a party, at least. The place was practically buzzing with people, almost to the point of being overcrowded. As Quinn made his way up the steps, a number of people caught his eye, and a number of them looked at him in turn, some with confusion, some with interest. Quinn made his way inside and into the kitchen, scrounging himself up a flavourful cocktail before retreating out into the living room.

The main 'party' was there: hard, thumping music, people groping and kissing in the corners of the room, and a pit of all manner of furry creatures jumping up and down and swaying to the vibrant dance music. It was exactly like it would be in a club, which was sort of Quinn's scene. He downed his drink and made his way onto the dance floor.

He let his body take over, washing out his worries and his woes and enjoying the rhythm around him, the sensations of swaying back and forth, the heat that culminated into a thick, musky tension in the air. The room was charged with sexual activity, and it showed, even on the dance floor.

A man bumped into him, and he turned, greeted to a rather tall and handsome canine with a sculpted figure and mesmerising green eyes. Quinn found himself smirking and he danced against the man, who rocked his body into Quinn's own. It was like the dance of courtship, a mating ritual to find a suitable partner. Like animals in the wild, they were trying to impress one-another, until the pair of them were inevitably satisfied.

It all happened so fast. Their bodies swayed against each other, their hands briefly touching and hovering over each other's bodies, until the larger canine could take it no longer. He grasped Quinn by the wrist and dragged him across the dancefloor, past a number of people and up the stairs to the quieter parts of the mansion. From there, they strode down a quiet, empty hall and peeked into various rooms, eventually finding an empty one.

In the dark of the room, their hands gripped and tugged, pulling at each other's clothes. Quinn managed to part his shirt, whilst the other canine grew frustrated with the buttons on Quinn's top and simply yanked it over his head. The room appeared to have a bed that was unused, so the man pushed Quinn down onto it on his back. He was barely able to see the canine above him, but for the illumination of his silhouette in the dull moonlight that seeped in through the thin curtains.

Quinn's hands delved against him as he felt the canine's tongue against his neck. Quinn couldn't help but groan against the strange, arching his back as his thumbs finally managed to tuck themselves into the man's waistline, pushing his pants down and exposing him. The strange shuffled and shifted out of his clothes and almost immediately, Quinn felt a wamrth against his leg. He couldn't resist reaching a hand down to touch it, and he felt the pulsing warmth of a knotted member against his fingertips. A groan from the man's mouth told Quinn all he needed to know.

He wrapped his fingers around the member and gently stroked, gliding his fingers across the length and feeling it warmly pulse against his digits. The strange above him growled and started gnawing gently on his neck with his teeth, soft enough so as not to pierce his skin. But even the stroking wasn't enough. It was obvious the strange was impatient.

Quinn felt a large hand on his hip, roughly tugging his jeans, and Quinn quickly reached down to pop the button of his pants and loosen them a little. As soon as the zipper was down, the canine's hand pulled again and Quinn's jeans and underwear slipped past his hips. The canine leant back for just a moment, grasping at the hem of the jeans and pulling unceremoniously, practically dragging Quinn across the bed as he removed his skinny jeans, dragging the tight underwear along with it and leaving him in the nude.

Even in the dark, he could see the stranger towering over him and hear his heavy panting. Both of them were needy. The canine shuffled on the spot for a moment, evidentaly stepping out of his jeans, before he bore down against Quinn again. His large hands roamed until they met with Quinn's cock, and the gay canine let out a quiet moan of pleasure at the touch, feeling those large fingers pushing down against his pulsing, 6 inch member.

There, rather aburptly, he was flipped onto his front, his chest pushed down against the bed as he felt the weight of the man atop him, forcing him down. He could already feel the thick warmth of his cock lining up between his lean jeans and sliding between them. With little ceremony, Quinn began to feel the tip pushing against his pucker. Normally, Quinn was a bit of a top, but the strangers aggressive insistance on giving was actually rather arousing. Quinn let out a quiet groan as he felt the tapering tip of the member pushing against his sensitive entrance, finally stretching him open and sinking deeper.

Quinn's inner walls spasmed and clenched and he let out a long groan of pleasure, pushing his hips back against the canine's body. He heard the man grunt and pant rapidly, apparently rather smitten with the warm tightness around his cock. The further that he sank, the more that Quinn could feel his heavy throbs and spurts of pre-cum. A pent-up canine was a sight to behold, for sure.

He felt the stranger's chest against his back, pushing down on him as a hand cupped around his hip, the other propping him up. The man briefly swore and groaned into Quinn's ear, before he began to thrust. His movements were rapid and precise, sinking the entire length of his cock into Quinn's behind and moving merely a few inches at a time. With every thrust, Quinn could feel the knot pressing against his behind, coming dangerously close to tying with him on more than one occasion-- not that Quinn would have minded, of course.

The canine continued to thrust, but it was clear he wasn't going to last long. Like Quinn, he had likely come to the party for one reason only: sex. And like Quinn, he easily found it. He heard the stranger moaning in his ear, panting against his body, until he finally stopped. He pushed his hips down as hard as he could and Quinn winced, briefly, as he felt the knot being forced into him. Immediately, Quinn's innards spasmed and gripped tightly around the swelling knot, and he felt the canine's thick, warm throbs, as well as his breathless sighs. His orgasm was obvious.

The stranger rolled to the side and dragged Quinn with him, resting on his side on the bed as he curled his large arms around Quinn's body. Quinn sighed tiredly and nestled against the covers. Already, he was beginning to feel sleep take him. Or maybe it was just the feeling of the strangers arms around him that made him feel warm and safe.

---

The curtains were ridiculously thin. Light filtered in through the window and through the curtains entirely, stirring Quinn awake at what felt like the crack of dawn. Quinn quietly cursed. He hadn't even gotten drunk at the party.

The canine he'd beeded last night slept beside him still. He was rather handsome: lean, muscular, and a pretty sizeable cock to boot. Quinn reminded himself to potentially try and find him later. For now, he shuffled forwards and felt the brief tug of the knot in his behind. He relaxed himself and spread his cheeks with a hand. After a bit of coaxing, he felt the knot pop out of him, and he sighed, clenching himself. It would not be a good idea to linger for long.

He slipped out of bed and began to gather his things. On the nightstand sat a piece of paper and a small assortment of pens, much like one would expect at a workdesk. That was handy. Quinn grabbed a pen and scribbled down his name and phone number on the piece of paper, leaving it where it lay as he tugged on his clothes. He wanted to get home as soon as possible and shower off last night's lewd activities.

He checked the time from his phone and inwardly groaned. It was only 7am. Yet, what interested him more was the text sitting on his phone from an unknown number.

'I'll text you tomorrow'. It said. A weird way to open a conversation, but Quinn played ball, at least for now. He text back.

'Can't wait'. Short and simple. He stuffed his phone into his pocket and pulled on his shirt, quietly slipping out of the door.

That text was the start of a long and dreadful journey, full of heartache and mixed feelings.

And neither of them realised it yet.