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I know, bad Gruffy, another story in one night, I really shouldn't right?

But here it is, hopefully to some interest.

If you have any comments, don't hesitate! All comments, faves, votes and watches will help others to find these stories to read as well!

Cheers, y'all!

*

The dinghy hotel room was no different to what the two canines lying on the single bed were used to. The old wooden-framed bed had creaked under their energetic hip gyrations. The sheets were yellowed out from the chronic shortage of starch. The only light came from a dim bulb hanging off a wire on the ceiling, with the hook reminding that one point a much more fancy installation must have been there. The single window was currently boarded up, since a recent raid must have blown out almost every window in the building, but there were a few strips of white tape still on the floor, forgotten by the sweeper who had diligently cleaned the room for use again.

Nothing out of the ordinary for the Doberman resting with one arm behind his neck used as an extra prop, while the other held up a lit cigarette up to his lips. The naked Rottweiler resting next to him, sweaty, cropped-eared and muscular, opted simply for the old pillow, and rested one paw over his belly while the other operated a cigarette, the last from a crumpled-up package on the nightstand, next to the small jar of pomade. Its oily stench still lingered in the room, along with the telltale musk from their earlier activities, joining together into a sort of a cocktail of aroma that would've left no doubts for any trained noses sniffing out the room for illicit activities. The two canines with aching rumps didn't really need any further reminders, even if they wouldn't have sported half-wilted hard-ons as well, still sticking out of two neat sheaths, red glistening skin and all.

The Dobie had been the first to light a smoke, after he got off on top of the Rottie and then rolled over to his back, to catch his breath and a calming smoke after the strenuous activities. His Rottie companion seemed similarly affected, if only a slightly more breathless, after taking the pounding that had been given with the expected military precision. Not quite machine gun speed, but it was enough. He was surely happy to belong to an armored formation, that meant that while the ordinary men walked, he drove on a truck, following the blazing guns of the division, the mighty tanks, massing up to crush the enemies.

The Dobie puffed out a large cloud of smoke into the stank air of the small hotel room and snuffled, sending some of the smoke out over that route as well.

"Could get used to these leaves, you know," the Dobie mused.

The Rottie flicked his ears and smirked, his cigarette hanging off his lips precariously, but firmly held between teeth. The Dobie knew that the Rottie was actually missing one, a result of a boxing match the dark-furred canine had won, years agim although with that associated cost.

"There won't be much leave for us when things get rough soon," the Rottie mused. "No more summer camp."

The Dobie snuffled, too dazed from the double acts of lechery he had committed earlier to really move or react too much to the statement made by his comrade-in-arms.

"About time, then," he grunted.

"Yeah?" the Rottie spoke, his voice rising a little in question.

"I won't mind getting the chance to shove my big boot up some pompous ass when that Channel crossing finally happens and things get hot," the Dobie grinned. "Let's burn some fur!"

The Rottie snorted at the mental image, and took a deep drag from his comforting army issue cigarette, to prevent the imaginary scent from hitting his nose.

"Everyone says that the western front is going to be the key to everything, either victory or defeat."

The Dobie chuckled roughly and scratched his calf with the toes of his other leg, bending it a little. His knee touched the Rottie's, who didn't shy from it, but did roll a little over to his side, to better look at the Dobie getting comfortable right there.

"They say a lot of things that would interest the watchdogs given the chance for them to hear the whispers," the Rottie noted.

The Dobie harrumphed and was finished with his scratching for now, and simply laid back.

"It's not like we've been behaving in an extremely orderly manner for the past...uh..."

"Two years of buggery," the Rottie commented with an amused huff.

The Dobie's eyes followed the curve of the Rottie's firm rump, and he couldn't help but feel a renewed twinge of arousal as he recalled how it had felt, once again, to roll his hips against that muscular rear, riding the black male in his passion. It was almost a surprise the bed hadn't given up by the time it was the Rottie's turn to take his ass in turn and slip that hair jelly-slickened thick shaft into a tight hole. Both of them could still feel the residue from that, of being stretched wide open and left with a sticky memento within their bodies, now hidden in everything but scent. That'd need some cologne to cover up.

"Two years in base while everyone else fights," the Dobie replied, thoughtfully looking at the bare, lonely bulb hanging off the dusty ceiling.

The light was steady now, unlike on so many other nights, when there were shortages, and cuts to the supply. Another thing one simply had to live with. It was still a pleasant change that it didn't flicker constantly, like the last time they were in a room like this.

"Someone has to do that part too, so that the others can fight elsewhere. We've been needed here," the Rottie suggested.

"While everyone else kicks ass somewhere else."

The Rottie's paw reached out and cupped one of the Dobie's noticeable pecs, and treated it to a squeeze. The big canine rumbled, deeply, and flexed his arm, just for the Rottie's benefit, to make the muscle tense. The Rottie bared his teeth in approval.

"Rather here doing your ass than anyone else's," he rumbled.

The Dobie chuckled, and took a final drag out of his cigarette before he mussed it down over the nightstand, into the old china cup there that served as a makeshift ashtray. He yawned and scratched his belly, flicking his thumb over a stray fleck of half-dried cum, and then rubbed it off on the sheets.

"Guess that beats the other options, yeah, but also feels a bit like...cheating."

The Rottie chuckled.

"What, the buggery part or the not being on any of the fronts part?"

"Likely the second one," the Dobie snuffled, eyeing the reclining male with curiosity.

So familiar, touched so many times and in so many ways, many of which were illegal. He didn't regret a thing.

"And weren't we just talking about the new front?" the Rottie suggested. "There'll be your chance."

The Dobie shook his head quickly from side to side.

"It's the waiting that kills me, you know," he grumbled, feeling up his un-groomed chin.

The Rottie snorted.

"It's a bullet that kills."

He got elbowed for that, quite rightfully.

"That's defeatism, you ought to be court-martialed."

"That's fraternization, you ought to be court-martialed!" the Dobie retaliated.

The two traded a few nudges, followed by harder jabs, and soon both large males were gripping onto one another, their bodies pressing together while the bed complained at the sudden shifts put upon them by the pair of canines shuffling from side to side. Their muzzles soon found lips to match, and a kiss was traded, not a very savory one at first, but saliva washed away the dang residue and replaced it with musk. The Dobie on the top rumbled loudly at his temporary victory over the Rottie, pinned down for now, and he licked over the exposed neck, hotly, eliciting a moan.

"Fraternization," the Dobie smirked, broadly.

The Rottie gave a defiant look.

"Asslicker!"

The Dobie jabbed his half-aroused loins over the Rottie's and grunted.

"You just like it when I do that..." he grinned, rubbing a thumb over the Rottie's forehead, simply because that was one of his favorite things to do...touch the very special face of a very special male.

Rottie licked his lips.

"Maybe I was paying you a compliment, then," he sounded almost challenging.

"Maybe."

They kissed again, deeply, and became immersed into it for a few wonderful moments, grinding and holding onto one another, enjoying every minute they had to the fullest, well knowing that the leave was not a long one. Renewed arousal was the not so surprising result of it, and soon their hard flesh rubbed together, between their entwined, sweaty, thrumming bodies.

"Once more," the Dobie grinned. "Think we can do one more before we have to give the room up."

The Rottie gave one of the Dobie's round rump cheeks a slap.

"You volunteering to take one for the fatherland?"

The Dobie bared his teeth and grumbled.

"You insisting?"

"I might be."

The Dobie harrumphed.

"Fine then. Just this once."

The Rottie winked as his comrade shuffled forward, slipping his knees on either side of the reclining dog so that he could bear his weight down on them, and move a paw over behind himself, to guide that pulsing piece of Rottie meat where it was meant to go, into his taint.

Both large males hissed and tensed at the slick contact, already tortured flesh making contact with its counterpart, and there was a gentle, quiet moment, when they just stared at one another.

"You always say...uhh...that."

The Rottie's paws fell over that firm rump, about the same time as the Dobie bore down and impaled himself on the thick shaft belonging to his lover, who now held him close, and was inside him, all the way to that thick knot.

It was a slow ride, they managed to take their time despite the renewed passion and the musk in the air, adding to it, when the Dobie began to stroke himself off, his bobbing member captured into a paw and manipulated with a paw while he rode the reclining Rottie's thick cock. Straining flesh became firmer, the grip of the Dobie's body was hotter, tighter, and soon both were panting, not far away from the eventual climax.

"Yes...yes...yes..."

The Rottie was never a big wordsmith, but sex put it all away, and he could only moan loudly and grit his teeth when he unloaded into the Dobie's slippery, hot insides for the second time within half an hour. He was soon followed by the one riding atop him, spending his own seed in thick spurts over the smooth furs belonging to the Rottie, painting him with abstract markings of his own, there. The Dobie slumped down, breathless, and collapsed over the Rottie, with the result that the dark male's shaft slipped out of him, reason enough for yet another moan to escape from both of them, as they panted together.

They could only spare a few minutes before the Rottie reached for the nightstand to pick up the wrist watch, his old treasure, to check the time.

"It's almost six, we have to give up the room, it's almost been two hours," he said, looking up to the eyes of the Dobie still sprawled on top of him.

The Dobie opened his half-lidded eyes and smiled, toothily, and licked over the Rottie's lips.

"Then I guess we better get going soon. Don't want that woman to come crashing in demanding we get out."

"We don't want that," the Rottie smirked, giving his comrade's back a firm pat, to make the muscles really know that they were touched by a very strong male alright.

"No," the Dobie smiled, as he leaned down, quietly, and kissed the equally smiling lips.

"Ich liebe dich."

*

Just something silly that cropped up to my mind and decided to share. Any thoughts?

Cheerio, everyone!