FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The pianist in the corner of the little upscale bar started up her fourth song of the set. Unsurprisingly, the simple, repetitive jazz progressions she played made the song sound almost exactly like the last three. The patrons of Seth's were not all that bothered, however. Most of the people here knew about as much about jazz as they did multi-leg trading strategies, and only cared about the existence of a live piano player inasmuch as they got to claim to their friends that they drink in a place that has a live piano player.

For the cheetah at the far end of the bar, who knew plenty about both jazz and stock options, the effect of sitting in this room was about equivalent to that of a coffee snob in a fast food doughnut shop. He tried to distract himself with his phone, while he waited for his company to arrive. For perhaps the sixth time, in the past two hours, he decided to double-check his appearance in his selfie camera. He was not a small man, but he definitely took up little space. Thin, with a wiry build, soft boyish features and what the kids in high school mockingly referred to as "resting dope face." He practiced his expressions, to try and counter that last one. He had to look sharp. Clean. Professional.

"Travis?"

The cheetah looked up, seeing a familiar rabbit walking up beside him. Setting down his phone, he rose to his feet and held out his hands. "Roger!" he cried. "You dumb bitch, get over here!"

"Well, gimme a fucking second, shithead!" Roger called back, in the same tone of mock hostility. "I can't walk so good after your mom spent all night bouncing on my pelvis."

"Toughen up, buttercup. You don't hear me complaining after your dad spent all night trying to put your new brother or sister, in me."

The two embraced, completely ignoring the looks they were getting from the other patrons. Roger patted Travis's back. "How the fuck are you, man?"

"Can't complain, can't complain." Travis grunted, as he put a little bit of extra force into his hug. "You been working out?"

"No, I haven't."

"Well, good, because if you were, I was gonna tell you it wasn't working."

"Yeah, yeah, all right." Roger pulled away, leading them both to the bar, where he immediately took a stool. "Glad to see that the bank still hasn't managed to get the stick up your ass."

"Pssh, please," Travis snorted, as he sat down. "Investment analysts are basically just frat boys with higher net worth. I never actually left college."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Roger waved at the approaching bartender, as he put down his cards. "I'm buying this dork's drinks, from here on." Turning back to Travis, he smirked. "I'm gonna have to be a shitty friend, sometime tonight, and ask you a favor. Least I could do is get you drunk, first."

"Could be worse," Travis replied. "Some of my shitty friends don't even bother with the drunk part."

For the next little bit, the drinks came in. Travis and Roger started talking about anything that came into their head. Travis fell into a hole, for a few minutes, as he started trying to explain all the intricate details that needed to be known in order to explain the latest big trade he had managed to pull off. Roger could only nod and pretend to understand. Roger, for his part, spent most of his story time complaining about the slightly more understandable problems that come with getting a dozen people to work together on a project. By the time the third our fourth drink rolled around, the stories started getting more personal.

"...and the dude keeps trying to get me to ante up my ass." Travis shook his head. "Like, if he can somehow outperform my portfolio, he gets to use me or whatever. I don't even get why he bothers, since he's never managed to do it without stakes involved."

"Maybe he wants you to fuck him." Roger offered.

"Yeah, dude. I know he wants me to fuck him. I'm not dumb. I'm just... you know..."

"Not interested?"

"That's a good way to put it."

* * *

Roger downed the rest of his drink, putting it aside and signaling for another. "I feel like he's dropping hints, you know? Like, he's telling me he wants to sleep around."

"What? No." Travis waved away the idea. "No way, dude. Come on. People talk about their celebrity freebies, all the time."

"Yeah, you might be right. Ian certainly does that. Constantly." Nodding to the bartender, he took a fresh pull of his new drink. "I mean... fuck. How am I supposed to compete with Opal fucking Raines? I don't even know how to do the heavy metal screaming."

"It's like regular screaming, but deeper," Travis took a sip of his own drink, smirking. "Also raspier."

"Yes, thank you."

"Also, you spend half your time threatening to peg every man around you."

"Goddamn it. Of course you listen to Shred Burrow, too."

"Well, I mean..." Travis flinched. "Wait a minute. What do you mean, 'of course' I listen to her?"

Roger snickered.

* * *

It was starting to get late. Roger stepped into the stall of the men's room and sat down. Outside, somebody else followed suit, taking up residence at the nearby urinal.

"Hey, so uh..." Travis's voice filtered in, next to Roger. "...you mentioned you were gonna have to be a shitty friend. You gonna get around to that, or...?"

Roger sighed. "You really wanna talk business, now? I'm literally peeing, as we speak."

"That's when the best business gets done. Captive audience, and all that."

"Fucking business people." Roger sighed. "So, uh... I've been trying to look into this company."

"Thinking of changing jobs?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. I just have questions about their management policies, how they affect their business."

"Okay, okay."

The room was silent, for a bit. Roger scowled. "Come on, man, don't make me say it."

"No, no, I think I'm gonna make you say it."

"Fuck you."

"My fly's already open, bud."

Roger sighed. "I can't make heads or tails of the financial reports. I've got data, but no real idea if any of it's good or bad or what."

"I see how it is." Travis laughed. "Mr. Serious Businessman needs his buddy Travis to deal with the big, scary numbers."

"Whatever, man. I'm a supervisor. I'm supposed to delegate." Standing up, Roger pulled up his pants and stumbled out of the stall. "You do this shit for a living, so I figured you might... I dunno, give it a once-over and give me the overview."

Travis looked back, from what he was doing. "I mean, all right. Fair enough. I am good enough to do that sort of thing." Looking forward for a second, he fiddled with his fly as he zipped up. "How much you planning on paying me?"

Roger leaned against the stall wall, folding his arms. "That's where the shitty friend part comes in, actually. I can't exactly afford your rates, as is, so I was hoping we could come to some kind of arrangement."

"Pssh, please. My full rates are for my asshole clients. For you, though?" Travis turned around. "I could think of something you could do to pay me."

Roger stared at Travis, for a moment. His expression hardened. "No," he said, seriously.

"Rog..."

"Fucking no, man. I can't..."

"Rog, man..." Travis grinned his dopey grin. "...you remember college, right?"

"Ohmigawd..." Roger turned around, headed for the sinks. "Stop fucking around. College was college, it wasn't..."

"Wasn't what?" Travis lurched over, clearly feeling the effects of the alcohol. "Wasn't real? Felt pretty damn real, at the time."

"I wasn't going to say that," Roger protested.

"Then what?"

Roger didn't have an answer, right away.

"This Ian guy," Travis pressed. "You work with him, right? Have you shown him everything, you've got going on, or are you still holding back because of...?"

Somebody else entered the bathroom, at that moment. Travis and Roger proceeded to wash their hands, in silence. The rabbit glared at the sink, as he scrubbed. Eventually, he finished up, wiping his hands off on his shirt before reaching into his pocket and slapping a slip of paper down between the two of them.

"That's the basic info I have on my company," he explained. "Name, ticker symbol, current board members. Figured I'd leave the rest open, in case it colored your analysis, in any way."

Travis looked down at the slowly dampening piece of paper, then up at Roger. He smiled, nervously. "So, does that mean...?"

Roger reached out, grabbed Travis by the tie, and pulled him in close.

"I'm going to carefully explain this to my boyfriend," he whispered. "There's honestly a pretty good chance he'll be on board. If so, I'm gonna be at your house in forty-eight hours. I'm assuming you don't have any plans for this weekend."

Travis swallowed. "I... I don't, really. Nothing I can't..."

The other patron began to exit the stall. Roger leaned against the sink, while Travis shook the water off of his hands, the two of them silent until the man strode for the door and left.

"Good," Roger said, as soon as the door closed. He proceeded to stride out, behind the stranger. As he left, he called back "Business casual!"

Travis stood there, alone, for a few moments more. His tail thrashed in agitation. He peeled the note off of the sink and skimmed the information on it. He raised an eyebrow. "Promotech?" Shrugging, he slipped the paper into his breast pocket and headed out to the bar, where Roger was in the process of settling the tab.

* * *

Roger almost hated that he was right. When he broached the subject to Ian, the cat had not only been all over the idea, he had also taken the opportunity to confirm the rabbit's suspicions about wanting to make the relationship more open. Roger felt the vaguest hint of disappointment, about that. However, it was more than made up for, afterwards, by the sex they had had in celebration. Facts were learned, about each other. It was...

He shook his head. This was not the time to think about his coworker. He was standing outside Travis's apartment, about to engage in... something. He did not really have a plan. However, when he put on his glasses, straightened out his button-down shirt, and took a deep breath, he was more than prepared to wing it. He tried the door. The cheetah had left it unlocked.

Inside, he heard Travis talking. "So, just to be clear, you're sure we're good, right?" Roger heard him say. "Because I really don't want to add this to the multiple reasons I'm... uh-huh. Really? Well, all right." His voice started to get louder, as he walked into the living room. The cheetah had his cell phone to his ear. "Well, all right. Catch you at the next tour, then? It's g..." The cheetah nearly jumped, when he saw Roger, standing there. "Hey, uh, I gotta go. Yup. Now. Okay, cool. Rock on, bro." Hanging up, he looked at Roger with a chagrined smile. "You're, uh... you're early."

"Sorry," Roger replied, leaning against the arm of the couch next to him. "I've gotten used to making my own hours. Do you need some time to get ready?"

"Uh... no? Nope, I'm, uh..." He motioned down to his outfit. Slacks, polo, just the right kind of corporate inoffensive necklace. "Business casual, as you said. We're all set to go, here."

"Are you?" Roger asked.

"Uh, yup." Travis replied.

Roger shifted, looking down his nose at the cheetah. "Are you?"

Travis's expression fell, slightly. "Uh... I... y-yes."

"Hmmph."

Roger took a few steps forward, then proceeded to trace a slow, deliberate circuit around Travis. He looked him up and down, his gaze cold and appraising. "Well, at least you fill out an outfit, well enough. Glad to see that all that time looking at charts hasn't caused you to get doughy."

"Heh. Thanks." Travis smiled, for a moment, before he felt his chin pinched between a thumb and forefinger. Roger was a good half-a-head shorter than Travis, and so he had to be pulled down, a bit, to make direct eye contact with the rabbit. When he did, it was into a pair of cold, steely eyes.

"You need to finish your sentences," Roger admonished. "'Thanks...?'"

Travis's eyes widened. A shaky breath rasped between his lips. "Th-thank you... sir."

"Good." Roger reached forward, with his other hand. He heard the cheetah gasp, as his fingers closed around Travis's quickly warming crotch. "Glad to see you remember that much, as well." Releasing Travis's chin, he rested his free hand on the cheetah's shoulder, pulling up to plant a firm, possessive kiss on his lips. By the time the rabbit withdrew, he could feel that Travis was already pitching a full tent. "And that you're still quick on the draw. How long's it been?"

"I-I'm sorry, sir?"

"Since the last time you came. How long has it been?"

"A..." Travis hesitated. "A month."

Roger raised an eyebrow.

"A week?"

Roger scowled.

"S-sorry, sir. Travis shrunk back, uneasily. "When I came home after the bar, I..."

"Wow. That's a record." Roger scoffed. "I haven't even been here twenty minutes, and already you're lying to me."

"Look, I'm sorry, man!" Travis blurted out. "It's been a bit. I don't exactly have anyone who'd be impressed by..."

"You're not impressing me, now, Travis." Roger took another step forward, causing Travis to back up until his back brushed against wall. "Seems to me like these past couple of years have drilled out every bit of discipline I worked to drill into you."

Travis did not need to press himself against the wall, as completely as he did. His left shoulder was still over the entryway into his kitchen. That was probably why he took a sudden half-step to the right, in order to pretend like he was cornered. It was the only slip up in an otherwise sincere looking mask of nervous, cowed energy. "You're right," he muttered, ears flat against his head. "I'm sorry, sir."

Roger continued to stare a hole into the cheetah, his expression stony and unwavering. "No matter, Travis. You're a smart boy. You can be retrained." Spotting the cheetah's bedroom, out of the corner of his eye, he motioned to it with his head. "You remember the position, don't you?"

Travis's breath caught in his throat, a sparkle of excitement further betraying his emotions. "O-of course."

"Assume it," Roger ordered. "I'll be along in a moment." Taking a step back, he looked around. Quickly, he looked back at Travis, his affect dropped, for just a moment. "Hey, uh, where's your bathroom?"

"Past the kitchen," Travis said, himself dropping the act, for a minute, as he pointed off to his left. "It's that, like blue-brown door, over by the..."

"Yeah, yeah, I see it." Roger walked past the cheetah and into the kitchen, popping his head back out, for just a second. "We good? You doing all right?"

"Oh, fuck yes!" Travis gasped. "I fucking forgot how much... uh..." He pointed over to his bedroom. "I'll just... be over here."

Roger nodded.

In the bathroom, Roger took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. He let out a shaky breath. "Okay," he said to himself. "We're doing this again. Apparently. Hohhhh, boy..." Shaking off a sudden burst of nervous energy, he took stock of himself. He was... well, "aroused" was not an accurate word for it. He was not exactly busting for a fuck, right at that moment. However, there was no denying he was revved, or some other equally vague word, to describe it. He took a deep breath, in an attempt to focus. He washed his hands, rolled up his sleeves, made sure his hair was in order, and adjusted the glasses on his face. "Right. Ready as we'll ever be."

Travis, for his part, went where he was expected. In his bedroom, bent over his bed, ass pointed out towards the door so it was the first thing Roger saw. His foot bounced and jittered as he tried and failed to contain his growing excitement. Was this good? Should he shift himself? What if Roger caught him moving around? Why the fuck did Roger always seem to take his sweet-ass time, in the bathroom? On a sudden impulse, he realized that he might as well get his pants off. That's what he'd like to see anyway. Somebody naked and presenting. As he reached to fumble with his belt, however, he heard an ominous clearing of a throat.

"What are you doing?" Roger asked, leaning against the door-frame.

The cheetah looked up, smiling uneasily. "Uh... I thought you might like it if I was..."

"Hands off!"

Travis jumped, ducking his head back onto the sheets. "S-sorry, sir!"

"Reach for the opposite side of the bed," Roger barked. "now."

Travis threw his arms out in front of him. The bed was a full-sized, so he was unable to reach the edge, but he knew that was not why he was told to do that. Instead, he stretched out as far as he was able, until his crotch was rubbing against the sheets, and his ass was hanging over it. His tail thrashed. At least, it did until Roger took a step forward and grabbed it with one hand.

"It's been... a hot minute," Roger began, slowly applying pulling force to the cheetah's tail as he got closer, "since the last time you offered up your ass to me, so I can almost forgive you, for forgetting. However, I think you and I need to go over the Golden Rule, hmm?" Roger paused, to take another coil of ropy cheetah tail in his hand. Travis let out a shaky breath, as the pressure against the base of his spine was just beneath the threshold of discomfort. Roger placed his other hand on Travis's ass-cheek, possessively, as he continued. "This... is mine. All of it. That includes the body parts attached to it, as well as anything that can be taken off or put on it. It's all my property, and I don't really like it when other people put their hands on my property without my permission." Roger lurched forward, suddenly. The crotch of his pants slammed into the valley, formed by Travis's upturned tail, leading into his ass, hard enough to cause Travis to slump forward.

Travis nodded his understanding, whiskers brushing against the sheet. "Y-yes, sir. Won't happen again, sir."

"I hope not," Roger warned, as he ground his hips against the cheetah. "Because if I catch your hands wandering again, I might just have to take away your ability to use them."

"Ohhhhhh..." Travis's cock lurched in his pants.

"The fuck was that? Was that moaning?"

"What? N-no, sir!"

"It was. I think you actually want me to tie you up, you fucking degenerate!"

"No!" Travis lied, poorly. "No, I'll be good! Please, sir, I'll... I'll..."

Roger took a breath, watching the cheetah's reaction. He knew from experience that there was a hurdle that needed to be passed, but once Travis could get it out of his mouth... "Well? Spit it out. You'll what?"

Travis's face began to get hot. His voice got a lot quieter. "I'll... I'll be a good boy, sir."

Roger smirked, the only crack in the facade he would allow himself, before he released Travis's tail and began to work on the cheetah's belt. "It's one thing to say that, little man, but I think I need to see some proof. Since you were in such a hurry to get this out in the open..." Roger hooked his thumb under the cheetah's belt, undoing the button for the tail-hole before pulling his pants lower. "... it can be the first thing we play with, tonight."

With a single motion, Travis's backside was exposed, his pants pooling around his feet and ankles, on the floor. His toned cheeks poked out from a pristine jockstrap. Roger wouldn't be surprised to hear that the cheetah had bought them, solely to get fucked in. The fact that they looked like they had just come out of the package was illustrative. The underside of the cheetah's fluffy balls could be seen, poking out of the fabric that otherwise obscured his genitals, which by now were tented and host to a slowly growing dark spot.

Roger grunted, with a predatory air, as he played with the strap around Travis's left thigh. "Not exactly business casual, are these?"

"It's not like anybody at work'd see them," Travis replied. "O-other than you, s... ohhhhh..." He felt the palm, resting against his bare ass-cheek, and knew what was coming next. "S-sir, please. I said I'll be a good boy."

"Good boys take their punishment, when they've been bad," Roger explained, as he ran his hand up and down, ominously. "And you've been a bad boy, haven't you?"

Travis's ears flattened. "Y-yes."

"How?"

"I touched your property. A-and I lied about t-touching myself, earlier."

"That's right. You didn't think I was just going to let you slide for those, did you?"

Travis let out a shaky breath. "R-Rog?"

Roger stiffened. "What's up?"

"Should we have... y'know... one of those, uh...?"

"Safe-word? Fuck, I forgot, uh..." Roger cleared his throat, before leaning in again and resuming the dom voice. "Why don't we go ahead and use the one we always use, eh, Travis?"

Travis thought for a second. "Wait, I don't remember..."

"Remember college?" Roger parroted, with a wolfish grin.

Travis stiffened, in embarrassment. "No, come on, man. That phrase is so stupid. It kills the whole mood."

Roger broke character again, for a moment. "Travis, that's literally what the thing is meant to do."

"I mean... whatever. It'll work."

"Good." Roger curled his fingers in, kneading the cheetah's ass as he lowered his voice, again. "Now, say it back to me, so I know you remember it."

"Fuzzle Dumplin's... sir."

"Good!" Roger began to take a more feather-light approach, teasing the tips of Travis's fur as the promise of more hung in the air. "The moment I hear that from you, this whole thing stops, and we spend the rest of the night watching movies in bed. But you wouldn't be caught dead saying something so stupid, would you?"

"N-no, sir..." Travis could feel the heat coming from Roger's hand, as it hovered over him. The silence hung in the air, thick and tense. His heart hammered in his chest. "No, sir, I'll be a..." The next sound that came out of him was a sharp yelp, as Roger's hand rose, and then fell. A crack rang out, throughout the room, as the cheetah's ass jiggled under the force of the swat. "Oh, fuck..." he whined, into the sheets.

"That's not a complaint I hear, is it?" Roger asked, as he put gentle pressure on the area he just struck with his palm.

Travis bit his lip, in a vain attempt to stifle his moans. "N-no, si-" He was not able to finish the statement, before Roger's hand descended again. And then again, on the other cheek.

"If it's not a complaint, then what am I hearing?" Roger kept gentle pressure on Travis's ass, between smacks, causing the first blush of warmth to radiate through the cheetah's body. "Don't tell me you're getting off on this."

They both knew what the answer to that was. All Roger had to do was reach down, between Travis's legs, to get several inches of throbbing proof that Travis was, indeed, getting off on this. For his part, the cheetah could not even summon up the will to deny it. Instead, he buried his snout into his bed, where he could make all the humiliated moans that bubbled up out of his throat.

Roger struggled to keep a straight face. Fortunately, Travis was not in an eye contact state of mind. "What are we going to do with you?" Swat! Roger's hand swung across the left cheek. "Here I am, trying to instill some fucking discipline. And look at you." Swat! A slap across the right. "Purring like a kitten while your ass is on display. Are you hard, right now?"

Travis gasped, as he pulled his face up. "I, uh..."

"Be careful, little man," Roger warned. "You think I can't see your hips trying to hump the bed, right now?"

Travis shrunk in on himself. "Y-yes, sir, I am."

Roger chuckled. "Figured. I think we need to change tack, for a bit." Taking a step back, the rabbit batted at Travis's tail, as it swung past him. "Get up. Lie down on the bed." He looked around the room. "Where's your stash?"

Travis turned around, his face apprehensive. "S-stash, sir?"

"Don't play dumb, you slut." Roger could see the precise moment Travis's heart skipped a beat, once the "s" word started getting thrown around. He kept his glare, however. "A boy like you doesn't so much as spend a night in a hotel, without a stash of perverted sex things close to hand. Where do you keep your toys stashed? Out with it!"

"My..." Travis was not told to assume the begging pose, hands curled in like the paws of a feral creature as he lay on his back. He did that all on his own. It did not stop him, however, from looking embarrassed about it. "...m-m-my nightstand. The one on your right. Top drawer."

Roger turned to face the nightstand, pulling it open and looking inside. Sure enough, there was a selection of various different favors, of exactly the sort he would have expected of his old college roommate. Silk ropes, floggers, various different devices of phallic-reminiscent design. "Is this all?" Roger taunted, as he looked back. "I expected more than just a drawer full of... Travis?"

Travis looked up, just as he finished fishing out his red, barbed cock from under the fabric triangle that held it at bay. "Y-yes, sir?"

Roger looked down at the cheetah, menacingly.

Travis's fur began to puff, as he realized his mistake. "I-it was trapped," he protested. "It was getting uncomfortable, sir. I had to..."

"Travis." Roger did not raise his voice. If anything, he spoke more quietly. Travis knew, from past experience, what that meant, and his heart seized at the thought of it. The rabbit continued. "I do believe I warned you."

"No... sir, I'm sorry. It won't... I'll put it back. Please..."

"Travis?" Roger reached into the drawer, pulling out a set of short silk ropes. "Your hands. Give them to me."

What followed was a few minutes of just enough resistance to get the circulation going, but not enough to make Roger wonder if they were approaching a red-line. He had to almost crawl on top of the cheetah, holding him down between his knees while he pulled Travis's hands up to the bars of the bedpost. Of course he had a bedpost with bars on it, Roger thought to himself, as he started the solemn work of lashing the cheetah's wrists to it. The cheetah's angry erection stabbed into the rabbit's backside, as he worked, which only reminded him of the slowly building heat in his own nethers. It was not ideal, for him to have gotten such a clear look at it. It made Roger... greedy.

"There we go." Roger leaned back, to admire his handiwork. "Exactly where you deserve to be."

Travis, pinned as he was to the bed, his arms over his head and his wrists bound together, could only whine in response.

"I think we're going about this, the wrong way, little man." Dismounting the cheetah, Roger proceeded to shuck the jockstrap the rest of the way off of his legs, letting his cock and balls fly rampant. "How am I supposed to punish you, for being bad, when you don't even seem to want to be a good boy?"

"I do!" Travis replied. "I do want to be a good boy!"

Roger opened the button on his own pants, dropping them down and climbing out of his underwear. His vulva was already swollen and glistening with arousal. Travis's eyes were drawn to it, dumbly, as Roger climbed back onto the bed. "Do you?" he asked, pushing aside Travis's calf so he could crawl in, between his legs. "Prove it."

Travis was about to ask how, when the sudden sensation of tongue against his shaft stole the breath from his lungs. Roger ran all up along his barbs, causing his neglected member to twitch and drool. "Haa..." he started to say. "Hhhaaah...!"

Roger grinned, as he looked up from the cheetah's crotch. "Hey, now," he warned. "Try not to get too excited. You're going to need my permission, before you go shooting off any more loads." He gave the tapered tip of the cock a gentle kiss, feeling the heft of Travis's balls for a moment, before continuing. "As I was saying: I want you to tell me the truth. That you're nothing but a little slut, desperate to please everyone you see."

"Wha?" Travis's ears flattened, against his head. "B-but sir, I can't..."

"I'm not done." Roger's fingers applied just a bit of pressure, against those fluffy balls. Travis was silent, at that. "I want to hear you beg, and I want to hear exactly what kind of slut you are. Tell me everything you've done, since college, and everything you wish you could do. Leave nothing out."

Travis squirmed, shaking his head. "No, no, no, I can't! I can't do it, sir. Please!"

"You can," Roger countered, "and I'm quite sure you will, given enough time. After all." He nuzzled the side of Travis's cock, taking in the potent smell of a needy male. "I don't know about you, but I can do this, all night."

Roger remembered this. Cold nights in the dorm room, with horrible screamo playing three rooms down in the middle of the night. Tongue tracing over every bump and kink of the cheetah's length, circling around the base before coming up for a drop of that potent, salty precum. One of his hands played with Travis's balls. The other was down between his own legs, tracing lazily around his clit as he began to blossom into his own full-fledged arousal. How badly he wanted to open his mouth, to engulf that member and take it in, fully. How badly he wanted to spread himself open and... but no. That was not what he was hear for. The whimpers. The tiny, pathetic, non-verbal pleas, fighting to be heard past the bit lip of a half-naked cheetah. That was the goal.

"Sir, I..." Travis panted. "I-I-I'm a slut. I'm a slut. Please, just..."

"Keep going," Roger made it a point to speak those words with his lips still on the cheetah's member.

"I'm a li..." Travis shook his head, still trying to fight the words that were clearly already on his lips. "a li... I'm a little slut, des... des... desperate to please everyone I see... sir."

"Good," Roger took a moment to insert two of his fingers into his snatch, for just long enough to get them fully slick with his juices. "Not good enough, though."

"Please, sir. Just let me cum. I wanna..."

Roger grunted in the negative, his lips buzzing and making Travis grunt. "Keep. Going."

Travis took several deep breaths. Everything about his expression told Roger how keyed he was, how desperately he was trying to stay away from the plateau. Oh, how that concentration would shatter, if Roger's fingers were to... he watched Travis's eyes widen, as the bunny began to probe at the entrance to the cat's tail-hole. Roger barely stood on ceremony before he wormed his way inside. Travis grunted and moaned, abortively trying to speak. "I... fuck...! I tried broadcasting myself-haaahn!-on HardCast. Let people watch as I f-f-fucked myself."

"Is that it?" Roger cajoled. "I don't believe that, for a second. Better hurry up, or I might jump straight to the deepthroat."

Travis stared at the ceiling. It did not help him keep his mind off of things, especially when Roger found his prostate faster than any man ever had the right to do so. "I... I wanna be trussed up," he admitted, powering through the humiliated chirp that threatened to upend his momentum. "I wanna be passed around, sir, like a communal sex toy. I w... I want..." He felt the top of Roger's lips, against the tip of his cock. "Fuck! I wanna suck off strangers in the men's restroom! Offer my dick to anyone that wants to ride it! Anything! I don't care, just... please sir! Please! Let me cum, I'm going crazy, over here."

Roger smirked. He'd heard the communal sex toy line, before, and if he let things get any more out of hand, it was only a matter of time before that description got more graphic and less safe. Gathering up one last bit of pre, Roger climbed up the cheetah's body. Straddling his hips, he planted a kiss on Travis's lips, his mouth still potent with the cat's essence. "You poor thing," he said, with obviously fake concern. "Trying so hard to be a good boy, with all these slutty little thoughts running around in your head." Lowering himself onto Travis's manhood, he finally felt the warm, familiar parting. He let himself take it in, at least until he was fully buried to the hilt, before he resumed the dom voice. "It almost sounds like you're about ready to burst."

Travis's eyes widened, as Roger began to rise, then fall, then rise again. In no time, the rabbit had gotten into a horribly powerful rhythm. The slapping impact against his hips was almost as maddening as the clenching warmth around his manhood, and both were bringing him quickly to the edge. "S-sir? Have I been... can I please... please, sir, I can't take it!"

"Only good boys get to cum," Roger taunted, pausing just long enough to stir the cat around, inside him. "If you think you've done a good enough job, go right ahead. If not, well... maybe you ought to hold it in, for a few more minutes."

If Travis had any sort of complaint, it died in his throat when Roger redoubled his assault on the cheetah's hips. Travis clamped his lower lip down against his teeth. He did not dare look down, lest he see himself getting fucked and lose what little control he had. Not that that was helping. He could still feel it, after all. He could still feel Roger's heavy breath on his neck, still hear the rough, husky pants in his ear. His legs flexed, toes curled and uncurled, hoping against hope that any distracting sensation would buy him just a few more seconds. And he needed those few more seconds because, regardless of whether or not he thought he had earned it, he had long since felt the point of no return pass by. Just a few more passes of that hot, clenching tunnel, and...

He let out a muffled groan, as he came. His cock writhed and spat, shooting rapid fire into Roger hard enough for the rabbit to clearly feel. Travis tried to hide his expression of raw, primal relief, tried to stifle the moans that poured out of him almost as hard as his seed. Neither tactic worked, especially not in front of Roger. The rabbit, for his part, was taking in the myriad sensations within him and, knowing that his time was going to be short, began to trace frantic circles around his clitoris, in order to push himself that little bit further he needed to go. Soon, he was also in the midst of orgasm, growling as he clenched and milked out the last few remaining drops from the cheetah's spent cock.

For a few minutes, the two of them did not say anything. They simply gasped and grunted at each other, as they rode out their respective waves. Roger was the first to speak, this time completely in a more normal tone of voice. "Hey, uh... you good?"

Travis nodded, a smile spreading on his face that was unabashedly dopey.

"Good, good. I, uh..." Roger looked up at the ropes, binding Travis to the bed. "You think we could...? I mean, I can still keep doing the thing, but..."

Realization dawned on the cheetah's face. "Oh. No, no, go for it."

Roger undid the knots, with a few simple tugs of the rope. His hands freed, Travis scooped the rabbit up and pulled the two of them onto their side. Roger chuckled. "I didn't even need to say it."

"Come on, man," Travis purred. "You think I don't remember you get cuddly? Remember college, when...?"

"No." Roger rubbed his leg against Travis's thigh, though his tone was firmer than his actions. "Let's just... not bring that up."

"Oh, come on, man. It was hot."

"It was weird, man. I couldn't afford my anti-heats, at the time, and things got..."

"Hot?"

"Desperate. It's a wonder we didn't walk out of college with a liability."

"Lucky for you, you got a friend who likes holding back." Travis laughed. "More than could be said for you, back then."

"Travis," Roger blushed. "I swear to God, I'm gonna tie your junk to the bed, in a second."

"You know better than to threaten me with a good time, bud."

The two of them stared at each other. They locked lips, mostly for the contact than for anything else. Eventually, Roger sighed. "Didn't think I'd miss this."

Travis sighed. "Yeah, I can imagine. Ian doesn't exactly strike me as the adventurous type."

"Maybe if I was Opal f..." Roger paused, in the middle of his complaint. "Wait. What are you talking about?"

"Uh... n-nothing. Nothing at all."

"Travis?"

"H-hey, remember that New Year's party, where we got the vibrator and..."

"Travis?!"

"Look, man..." Travis sighed. "It's cool. You don't have to be mad about it."

"Travis," Roger glowered up at the cheetah. "Have you and Ian been talking?" The cheetah's silence spoke volumes. "Fucking hell, how did you guys even fucking meet up? I literally just..." The wheels clicked, in his head. "Shred Burrow?"

Travis shrugged. "We both had backstage passes, last year."

"Fuck!" Roger laughed, mirthlessly. "Why does everyone I have sex with a fucking Shred Burrow stan?!"

"For the record," Travis added, unhelpfully, "he told me he was definitely down for sleeping around."

"Yes, thank you, Trav! I had the talk with him. We're handling this like mature adults."

Travis chuckled, pulling the rabbit in close. "Come on, man. You're ruining a perfectly good afterglow."

Roger sighed. "You're right." Snuggling in, he sought to maximize contact with the cheetah's warm body. The trickle of hot seed out of him was starting to slowly taper off. Roger had nearly forgotten how... productive... the cheetah could be. He tried to imagine how bad it would get, after a few days of letting it build up. Or, perhaps longer. He would have to run the idea by Travis later, when they were both fully sober-minded.

"Hey, uh..." Travis piped up. "While I got you here, you wanna maybe hear some of the stuff I found on that Promotech company?"

Roger's ear swiveled up at the cheetah. "I thought you wanted to take in the afterglow."

"You kidding?" Travis sat up, pulling a file off of the nightstand and bringing it to the bed. "The minutes after a good nut are the best times to start working through financial documents. How do you think I've managed to get my portfolio where it is?"

Roger sighed. "Fine." He wrapped his arms around Travis's chest. "I'm not letting go of you, though, so you'll have to deal with that."

"Fine by me." Slipping one arm under Roger's shoulders, the two of them got situated on the bed. Travis opened up the folder and pulled up the first chart. "Okay, so... basic overview. Looks like this company you're looking into mainly deals in..."