Swordfighting
Swordfighting
By Tagenar
Copyright 2010
The shepherd at the bar picked up the glass and upended it against his lips. The vodka burned everything it touched on the way down. The canine wrapped his ankles around the bar stool and braced himself. His tail stood straight out and helped him balance while the lousy alcohol sanitized his throat. It settled in his stomach and sizzled. The shepherd uncurled his legs and his tail lowered. He shook his head and panted. The bartender, a portly feline, smirked at him and took the empty glass away.
"Another shot?" he asked.
"No thanks..." His voice was raspy and breathy. Moving air across his sanitized throat was painful. "I just wanted to try the good stuff."
"That wasn't the best we have," said the cat, "but it is better than anything you'll get in a grocery store."
"Still tastes like mouthwash to me."
"Good vodka has little to no flavor. To get that, you need to be willing to lay down thirty for a shot."
"I'm fine now."
The cat nodded and turned away. The shepherd looked up and watched the TV poking out of the wall. It was on the sports channel. Some game he didn't recognize. This place was a stereotypical bar. TV on sports channel, cigarette smoke in the air, real wood floors. Even the bartender was dressed in a white shirt with black suspenders. It was the kind of place Don didn't belong.
Normally he wouldn't go to a bar. He liked the drinks, but not the atmosphere. Bars were places people went to drink alone and be depressed, and he wasn't that kind of sheppie. He preferred to do his drinking at home or at parties, with friends.
The only reason he was here was because his friends told him to come here at 22 hours and wait for a dobie. He'd been waiting for fifteen minutes. The vodka went down his throat in the first five and he didn't ask for anything else. He sat at the bar, where his friends had told him to sit, tail dangling down, ears up and alert. He pretended to watch TV. Pretended not to listen to the loud, drunken conversation between the badger and the rat sitting just a few stools to his left. Pretended not to watch the other four canines at the bar, with their ears down, faces fallen, eyes sagging, depressed and drunk.
His friends should at least have come with him, kept him company until this Elliot showed up. Why hadn't they? Don watched more TV. He was actually thankful for the commercial breaks; they were more entertaining than the game. It wasn't even the game itself--it was endless commentary on previous games and speculation on the upcoming game. Filler.
Another half hour went by. Don was seriously thinking about buying another shot of something just to pass the time. Then a dark body moved into the stool next to him. Don looked at him from the corner of his eye. A Doberman had taken a seat next to Don and was staring at the various bottles lined up against the wall behind the bar.
Don looked ahead, watching the dobie in the mirror partially hidden by the bottles. The dobie was idly looking in the mirror at the bottles behind the bar, too. A moment later the feline walked between them and the mirror and stopped in front of the dobie.
"Anything for you, sir?"
"Not yet, thank you, I'm waiting for someone."
"Very well. Let me know when you're ready."
The cat turned around, grabbed a bottle from the wall and carried it down the counter, where he poured a couple shots from it.
The mirror framed the faces of a doberman and a shepherd. The dobie's attention wandered to the TV. Don took the chance to look at the doberman directly in the mirror. The dobie worked out, and it showed. Even in the dim light of the bar, the definition lines on his chest were obvious. The shirt didn't hide anything. Very impressive.
The shepherd imagined what was under that shirt. He let his mind wander a bit... This nice, big dobie's ass under him... Parting those cheeks, shoving himself in, making that beautiful body his.
Don blinked the fantasy away. He faked looking up at the TV for a minute. He watched, then let his eyes wander downwards. He made a face of recognition, pretending to notice the doberman for the first time.
"Elliot?" said Don.
The dobie had been looking in the mirror. He turned his head slightly and regarded Don. "Yeah? You Don?"
The shepherd nodded.
The dobie smiled, turning in the stool, and faced Don. "I was told to come here and wait for you."
"Me, too."
Don turned and faced the dobie. He took one hand off the bar, opening his chest. The dobie's gaze fell into the gravity well this created for a split second. This dobie was about as big as Don was--probably benched the same, so he might not be as impressed as everyone else Don met.
Elliot took both hands off the bar, rested an elbow on it instead, and kept the other hand in his pocket. It created a similar vision funnel, and Don glanced at the dobie's chest. No doubt about it; Elliot worked out at least as much as Don did.
"So who told you to be here?" Elliot said.
"Whole bunch of my friends."
"What did they say?"
"All they told me was that I have to meet you. Your name and breed and that's it."
"That's all I was told, too. A little weasel, anyone you know?"
"Weasel? Stanley?"
Elliot smiled. Don got the feeling his tail was wagging, but the dobie had no tail to see. "That's the one."
"He was one of the mob that told me to come here. Did he tell you why?"
"Nope. Just said I needed to meet you."
"Hmm." Don thought for a second. "Any ideas?"
"No. He never mentioned you before. Did he ever tell you about me?"
"Nah, he never talked about a dobie before. How do you know Stanley?"
"I met him a few months ago. We both work second shift. He said hi to me in the breakroom my first day."
Don leaned a little closer. Big dobie like Elliot, in the breakroom, alone with the weasel... There's only be one reason Stanley would say hi. He was sure of it, but was Elliot the type? He wanted to be sure before he asked.
"I've known him since college," Don said. He leaned back a little and scratched his leg. He didn't have an itch, it was just an excuse to scratch near his limp member, shift it around under his pants a little, see what Elliot's reaction was.
"We've been buddies for years," Don said while he scratched. "We had the same history professor. He said hi to me one day, struck up a conversation. He even pretended to need help with his assignments. He met me at a party the night before and finally got up the courage to approach me."
The dobie's glance wandered down to the sheppie's chest... Stomach... Maybe he got down as far as the groin while Don shifted it around; he couldn't tell. Then Elliot looked up, smirked, took his hand out of his pocket and stretched his arms out. It showed off his biceps, which stretched the shirt so tight it made veins rise on the muscles. They were visible under his fur, which was impressive. The motion showed off Elliot's chest, too, which was also tightly wrapped in that shirt.
"He flirted with you?" Elliot said, returning an elbow to the counter.
Don smiled. "That's the only reason he'd ever say hi to anyone."
Elliot grinned and leaned closer to the shepherd. "So he's always been a cock chaser?"
"Oh yeah," said Don. "Always. That's how you know him? He lift his tail for ya?"
"I knew what he wanted from the day he sat down across from me. Is that what he wanted from you, too?" Elliot looked the sheppie up and down once. "I wouldn'ta thought you were the type."
"Everyone says that," Don said. He chuckled. "That subby little weasel. You glance at him and smile and he thinks you're interested."
"And if you're not, he follows you around 'til you are."
Don nodded. "You do know him. That's how he got me. Yeah, I gave it to him. Never heard a man scream like that before in my life."
Elliot laughed. "Yeah, I bent him over a few times, too. He's a loose little bitch."
Don smiled wide. "I take pride in my work."
"You loosened him up?"
"He was a virgin when I met him. I had to try three times before I could get in. But he wanted it so bad he put up with the pain."
"Like a good little bitch."
Don couldn't think of anything to say to that. So he just looked. The dobie looked at him. Overall, Don was very, very impressed.
"Stanley always went down for the big, gymdog types," Don said.
"I'm not surprised," Elliot said. "He didn't have to work hard to get me interested. I already was. Then I got him in bed, and found out how loose he was. It ain't too often I meet someone who can take me."
Don rolled his eyes. Typical gymdog, hyping himself up. Don kept his muzzle closed.
"Well this don't make much sense," said Elliot. "Why would Stanley get both his tops together and not be there for the threesome?"
"I don't know," Don said. "But I can see why he bent over for you. You're Stanley's type. What's your bench?"
"Two-ninety."
"Nice. I'm two-sixty. Squat four hundred."
"Four-eighty for me. Been liftin weights for twelve years."
"Fourteen for me," said Don.
"That long? Damn, dog, you don't smell that old."
"I'm 31."
"28."
Don nodded. "Mm, you smell about right for that age."
"What happened, you hit a couple plateaus?"
Don smiled. "In one right now."
"I just got out of one. For a while I couldn't get past two-fifty on bench. Did that for six months before I finally broke it."
"Eh, you're a dobie. You can put on muscle easier than I can."
"Still, nice."
"Thanks," Don sat up straight. "Let's leave. Continue this someplace less depressing."
"Good idea. You can follow me to my place. I only live two miles downtown."
"Mm, closer than mine. Yeah, sure, I'll follow you."
Elliot lifted off the stool and they walked out together. Don watched which car Elliot got into, then stepped into his. He pulled up behind Elliot in the parking lot and followed him out to the light. Traffic was light, so Don had no problem keeping the dobie's car in sight.
As he drove Don let his mind wander. He wanted to see that ass. Bend that dobie over. Everybody claims to be top only, but it never failed. Soon as they saw what was in Don's pants, they bent over and took it like bitch. He was sure he could do it. He was sure he could make Elliot his, and in his own apartment, too.
A few left turns, right turns, red lights and stop signs later, Elliot pulled into an apartment complex that looked two steps above ghetto. Not quite middle class, but not run down and rusting either.
Don parked next to Elliot. The dobie got out of his car, jingled his keys in his hand and led the way to a door on ground level. He opened the lock and held the door for Don. Don walked inside.
The apartment was fully furnished with a couch, table and entertainment system. The carpet was clean, there was no mess anywhere. There were even pictures hanging on the wall.
"Nice place," said Don.
"Thanks," Elliot said on his way to the refrigerator. He opened it. "I have typical stuff. Beer, liquor."
"Just a beer. I only drink every now and then."
"Me, too. Alcohol ain't good for the workout."
"Damn straight."
Bottles clinked, and the dobie emerged from the refrigerator and closed the door. Don made himself at home and sat on the couch facing the dormant television. The dobie handed him a beer and sat down in the recliner. He twisted the cap and took a swig. Don took a swig of his.
"Hm. Not bad."
"I buy just enough to keep company happy. Only go through a case, like, every six months."
"Hm, I don't even buy the stuff. Everyone brings it over though. So you bring Stanley here?"
"A few times."
"Ever done him in his apartment?"
"No. He's never asked me to come over, he always comes here."
Don nodded. "Yup, that's our weasel."
Elliot grinned. "I think it's the whole submission thing. Being in another male's territory. Under his control. Seems to be what he likes."
"You know him," Don said.
Elliot took another drink. Swallowed. Took a breath. "You and him boyfriends?"
Don laughed. "No. He's a little too... uh..."
"Needy?"
"Yeah, needy. He's like candy. Every now and then, great, but too much..."
Elliot nodded. "I feel the same way. And I gotta work with him."
"I went to class with him. Helped him with assignments. It was nonstop for a while."
"You ever have to tell him to back off?"
"All the time. Sometimes he gets so annoying."
"Still does."
"He's better than he used to be."
Don looked at the dobie. Damn what a nice body. He was sure that ass looked just as nice. He was determined to move this to the bedroom as soon as possible. All he needed was an excuse to undo his pants.
"But when he sees something he likes," Don said, "he doesn't let go of it. He likes big boys, and it ain't often he finds someone who has everything he wants. Hell, it ain't often I get to top."
"That's what I thought of Stanley, too," said Elliot. He took another swig. "The biggest sub I ever seen. To handle me, he'd have to be. I asked him about it, but he wouldn't say how he got that loose."
Don shook his head, stared down at the bottle in his paw. There he goes again, Don thought, hyping himself up. He has no idea who I am.
"Do you get to top much?" Don asked.
"Almost never."
"Really? Dobie like you in this city don't get much?"
Elliot sat back in his chair, smiling smugly. "Everyone wants to, but it's hard for me to find someone who can bottom for me."
"As usual."
"Hmm?"
"Eh, everyone says that."
"Stanley is maybe the third person I've topped."
"He was my fifth male. It's difficult for me to find anyone who can take me."
"Seriously?"
Don nodded, took another drink. He swallowed and said, "I'm the reason Stanley is so loose."
Elliot nodded slightly. "Well, he was looser than anyone else I've met, but I still had to make a little room for me."
Don chuckled. "Right."
"I'm serious," Elliot smiled. "Ask Stanley. Thanks for getting him ready for me."
Don snorted. "Like I haven't heard that a million times."
Elliot deflated. "Huh?"
"Lot of people can't handle me. Bedded a few females in the past, and they all told me to pull out, it was too much."
"Ah, damn. Bad nights then?"
"Actually, no, I was flattered. But it was disappointing. Not much else to do. They couldn't suck on it either, so they just sat there and stared at it."
Elliot smiled. Took another drink. "I know the feeling."
"If you say so."
"What, you don't believe me?"
"Everybody talks. Lot of parties, guys talk big, they all say shit, but they never show it. Then they meet me, I show em, and it shuts em up."
"Oh? Sounds like a good story." Elliot took a drink.
"Yeah, they brag about the tail they pounded, the pussy they stretched. I hear it over and over. People stop saying shit like that around me 'cause they know I ain't afraid to show it. That's how Stanley got interested in me. Was at a party, and I pulled it out. He followed me around, begging to try it."
"Ooooh, now I understand." Elliot smiled. "He did mention you, just not by name. He told me he had a friend with the biggest dick he'd ever seen. Always pulls it out at parties. Hey, he told me you insulted someone cause they were small, that true?"
Don laughed. He took a drink. "If it's the one I'm thinking of, he deserved it. He kept talkin, and I dared him to pull it out. He was this big." Don stuck his thumb out. "Not including the claw! Just a bullshitter, of course I laughed."
Elliot nodded. "Stanley said you really hurt his feelings."
"Ain't my fault. He shouldn'ta been talking."
"Probably not, but still."
"Still what?"
"Stanley said it's routine for you. Everyone you meet, you want to take it out, show them what you got. It wasn't the only time you laughed at someone else."
"I just call out the liars. Nothin wrong with that."
"So what about the girls?"
"What about the girls?" said Don.
Elliot smiled. "You like being over everybody, don't you?"
"Hm?"
"You wanna feel superior to everyone. Gets you off don't it?"
"What the fuck you talkin about?"
"I took a couple psychology classes, sorry, it's habit to figure stuff out like that."
"Fuck, Elliot, I got the biggest dick in the city! I ain't apologizing for it."
The dobie leaned forward, set his bottle on the coffee table. "So pull it out. Let's see it."
Don shook his head, took another swig. Stanley really didn't tell him that part. It wasn't often he met someone who didn't know. Well, fine, he'd give Elliot a show. Elliot would be scrambling to find some lube in less than two minutes. Don set the bottle on the coffee table and leaned back.
"Show me yours, I'll show you mine."
"You're the one who's talking big. You first."
Don closed his eyes, smiled, and reached down. He unbuttoned the clasp and unzipped. Pulling his boxers down slightly, he pulled out his meat and let it rest across his thigh. The dobie looked at it intently, leaning on his knees and staring. Don couldn't tell what he thought. He started rubbing it. It began to swell--that wonderful feeling of life pumping into his member made him smile.
He flipped it up, held it up to his stomach. It was rising and thickening. It had already passed his navel and was approaching his chest. It climbed up his abdominal muscles, thickened in his hand, parting his fingers. It reached his chest muscles. He could touch his nipples with it in this position, and he made sure to do it just to show Elliot he could.
"Twelve inches of shepherd," Don said, swinging it around, letting Elliot see it from several different angles, giving him every opportunity to see its relative size.
He leaned over, took the beer bottle and held the two side by side. The bottle lost, both in thickness and length. Don looked over at Elliot. The dobie hadn't moved at all. He still leaned on his knees. Don was waiting for his jaw to drop.
Elliot straightened, then unzipped his pants. He wasn't wearing underwear of any kind, and reached in and pulled his meat out. It flopped down across his thigh with an audible thump. Don's eyes grew big. His muzzle cinched up.
The dobie's meat was inflating on its own. Elliot kicked his pants aside and opened his legs. He sat back with his hands behind his head. The open position funneled Don's gaze straight to it. It wiggled and squirmed like a living creature. It rose. It squirmed and wiggled and lifted more. Higher.
Elliot brought one hand down and held his meat up to his chest. It was past his nipples! It reached his muzzle in this position. It had begun as thick as Don's wrist, but now it was beyond comparison.
"Eighteen," said the dobie. He squeezed it. His fingers were not even close to touching.
Don's meat throbbed, making effort to catch up.
"No fucking way!" Don bolted out of his seat, kicking his shorts off on the way. He stood in front of Elliot and grabbed his meat. He squeezed it a few times, as if looking for strings, or the man behind the curtain. He pulled it up. It was firmly attached.
"It ain't no dildo," Elliot said.
"Fuck, Elliot!" Don grabbed it with both hands, feeling it up and down, trying to squeeze his fingers together. It was like trying to squeeze a steel pipe.
While Don was occupied, Elliot reached up and wrapped his hand around the shepherd's rock solid maleness. He squeezed it, and smiled that his fingers didn't touch either.
"Damn, dog, that's impressive," said the dobie.
"Elliot, how is this thing all the way hard?"
Elliot was busy studying Don's meat with his paw. The more he looked at it the wider he smiled. "I've never met anyone who was even close to me. This is niiiiiice."
Don didn't even hear him. Elliot's weapon was all that existed in the universe. The more he felt it the more real it became, and the more he accepted a feeling he had never felt before. Elliot was beautiful.
Don bent over it and licked it from somewhere close to midway up the shaft to the tip. It was rock solid and warm and tasted like doberman musk. Don had never licked anyone's cock before; everyone else always licked him. It was a new experience, but it matched how he felt.
He licked it again, squeezing with both hands. He nuzzled it, licked it, cuddled with it, marveling how he could brace himself on it. He wanted to bend this dobie over more than ever. He wanted that cock. He wanted it to be his. All his. Meanwhile Elliot was all but doing the same thing to Don's meat. He pulled it closer, licked it, suckled the head a little. He grunted from his chest and rose to his feet.
Don rose with him, and when he stood fully he was surrounded by muscular arms and dobie musk. Don was still holding Elliot's maleness. It rubbed against his own, but continued on up. Elliot was holding Don tight against him, pushing his meat into Don's chest. It almost reached his muzzle just from standing. Don's meat didn't even reach the dobie's chest. Don hadn't realized how much bigger the dobie was until now...in every possible way.
Elliot rubbed Don's back, feeling the solid muscle under the shirt. One of his hands wandered up to his neck. He felt his ears, rubbed underneath them tenderly.
"You are beautiful," Elliot whispered. His other hand descended to his rear and gave it a squeeze.
Don was still holding Elliot's member. It was warm and alive against his stomach and chest. The rising scent of dobie musk held him still. He had to have it. He had to have that scent, had to have this cock. He had to have this dobie.
Elliot's finger wandered under Don's tail. He felt under it, very lightly. He stroked under Don's ear. Gradually he applied pressure under Don's tail, and finally poked a claw and a finger in.
Don gasped.
"Huh--? What the fuck you doin?! I ain't a weasel!"
Elliot seemed not to hear. He pushed his finger in a little more, then leaned forward and licked the side of Don's muzzle.
"Fuck you, Elliot, get off me!" Don pulled away, but two enormous arms pulled him back. Elliot inhaled deeply. His member pulsed, and a tiny drop of pre emerged from the tip.
"Mmmhhhmmm...my sheppie..." he breathed.
Don pushed off Elliot's solid chest and pried out of the dobie's grip. "Get the fuck away from me!"
Elliot held on, but Don wasn't weak, and he pushed harder. He wormed his way out of Elliot's powerful arms and backed away. Elliot lunged. Don turned halfway around to run away, and Elliot snatched him up in a tight grip again. The look in his eyes wasn't aggressive, it was lustful.
Don didn't know any wrestling moves; he'd never wrestled in school, but it was surprisingly instinctual. He swung his body around and threw Elliot over his side. Elliot landed on his back with a solid thud.
Don was about to run away, but he felt a surge of hormones as he saw Elliot on his back, in a submissive position. He could do it. He wanted that cock, and he could make this dobie submit to him--make that dick his.
The shepherd threw his whole body on top of Elliot. He propped himself up on his hands, holding the dobie to the floor. He drew back and aimed his member under the dobie's miniscule tail.
Elliot leaned forward and kissed Don. Don froze, his force weakened. Elliot sat up, lifting the shepherd backwards. Don landed on his side, head just barely missing the coffee table. Elliot stood on all fours, pure lust in his eyes and throbbing meat aimed straight at Don.
Don flipped over and crawled up to his legs and lunged for the door. Weight on his back brought him down to his hands and knees again. Two large arms wrapped around him. A wet, warm tip was pushing under his tail. The shepherd bucked and twisted, but Elliot had him firmly gripped and was using the pre to lube up his hole.
"GRRRFF--fuck you, Elliot! Let go of me or I'll fucking kill you!"
Elliot licked between Don's ears. It had a strangely placating effect. Don settled down as Elliot licked. He also grabbed Don's hard on and was stroking it slowly. His heavy scent fell over Don like a cloud. Don thrashed again, weaker. He bucked, but the dobie was too big to overpower.
Pressure under his tail. Don gritted his teeth. More pressure. He clenched harder. The pressure increased. He couldn't hold it in anymore. Don screamed. Elliot pulled back, then pushed forward, going a little deeper.
Don growled and screamed. Elliot pulled back, relaxed and let Don breathe a couple times. Don twisted and tried to crawl away, but Elliot held him tight and shoved hard. Don screamed loud and tried to raise his head. Elliot held him down and shoved again. Don howled and stayed low. For good measure, he lowered the rest of his body so he was almost lying on the carpet. Elliot pulled back and let Don breathe. Don didn't try to squirm away. Elliot licked his ears and pushed himself in, gentler this time. Don whimpered and whined, not from the pain, but from the helplessness.
Elliot slowly, gradually worked his way in. Don screamed whenever the pressure became too great, and the dobie seemed to know exactly how far to push before the pain was unbearable.
Then, Elliot pushed--and shoved! Don whimpered and whined and screamed at once. The pressure eased a little. Elliot licked Don's ears and whispered, "the head is in."
Don cried and lay all the way down on the floor. He was soft now, so lying like this didn't crush his erection, which made him feel horrible in a way he couldn't describe.
Elliot did not pull out this time, but pushed in a little further. Don didn't cry now; it was all easy going from here. Elliot slowly pushed and squeezed his way deeper into Don. Finally, Elliot stopped and pulled back a little. He pushed in. Don gasped and inhaled, but didn't scream. It didn't hurt anymore.
"MMmmhh...mine..." Elliot breathed over the shepherd.
He pulled back and pushed in. Regularly. Now the fucking could begin.
It was amazing how fast Don got used to it. Before he wanted to struggle, wanted nothing more than to break out and make the dobie his. Now... He was content to lie here and take it. His mind wandered.
Stanley wanted him to meet Elliot. Not just Stanley, but all his friends. Everyone had stood right next to that weasel and told him to go to that bar. Why? Why would Stanley get two of the biggest dicks in the city together and not be there himself?
No...
The better question was why did his other friends want him to go, too?
Elliot wasn't using his entire length; that was obvious. Even a dobie acting on pure lust recognized he could seriously hurt Don if he shoved the whole thing in. He was using half. At most maybe two-thirds. Don couldn't tell, but he was getting hard. The longer Elliot was in him, the better it felt. It was starting to feel good. Don whimpered. He felt humiliated.
Elliot grunted and growled and licked Don's ears as he thrusted.
Don thought about the mirror in the bar. Don checked out Elliot in the mirror, thinking of ways to make that body his. Thinking of a way to make an excuse to pull it out and the dobie would be his. But Elliot was doing the same thing to Don this whole time. It was embarrassing and... Humiliating...
That was the point of this night wasn't it? That's why his friends wanted to him to meet this dobie. All those parties, all that talking he did. The laughing when other males who claimed to be big whipped theirs out. The smug way he carried himself, muscled other males out of the way, humiliated them in front of others, tried to get females in bed by showing them what he could give them...
Elliot grunted hard and deep. Don whimpered and panted--he was climaxing.
The dobie was right about one thing. Don liked being worshipped. What had a girl told him after one party? Jill was her name. She turned him down for a night in bed, and she said something that stuck out in Don's mind right now. "You like being admired, but you don't stop there. You go out of your way to make everyone aware they should be worshipping you. Whack off to that, asshole."
Don howled as he released. Finishing with a cock in him was an entirely new experience, and it felt so weird. It encouraged Elliot to pick up the pace and plow him deeper and harder.
They wanted this to happen. They wanted Don to meet someone who was just like him. Someone who could bring him down. They wanted to deflate him, end his bragging, show him what it felt like.
"Fuuuuuuuuck..." Don panted through his teeth. He pulled pieces of carpet out, grabbed the carpet again, tore out more clumps. "I'll get them for this! Fucking shit I'll get them for this! Fucking... Ohhh... GRRRRhhh..."
Elliot finished. His load was hot and large deep in Don's gut. It hurt. Don panted and cried as his own member throbbed. The dobie licked his ears. Then his muzzle.
"...mine..."
Don panted and gasped. He wanted to say so much, but all he could get out was, "Elliot...ohh..."
Elliot only licked Don's muzzle. He wrapped his arms tightly around his chest, not to hold him in place, but like a lover.
All right... Don thought. I'll shut up... I'll stop... Just...don't do this to me again.
He panted deep and hard and waited eagerly for Elliot to pull out.