TGIF
"I'm hom--"
Thomas' shout caught in his throat when the front door swung open and darkness greeted him. He crossed his threshold with wary steps. Every light in his home was off. The heavy, crimson drapes of his living room were drawn. A slow bend and his briefcase settled on the tile of his foyer with a soft clack, but the lean skunk never let his intense gaze stray from the gloom that painted his living room. With some reluctance, he swung one of his clawed feet behind him and bumped the front door shut. Now it was even darker. What little was left of the day spilled through the small oblique window above the door and ran across his tawny carpet. Feebly, it pierced the dark and was swallowed. One of his paws reached behind him and found the lock on the doorknob while his other yanked the tie loose from his fluffy neck. And so he waited. He had excellent hearing, though his eyesight had gone to pot in the last few years. A claw pushed the small specs resting at his nose back towards his straining eyes. Nothing stirred. As casually as he could muster, the skunk strode through his living room and continued onward to his kitchen.
Ignoring the light switch, he deftly weaved between the obscured loveseat and recliner with practiced familiarity. Thomas tensed a little when his claws meet the hardwood flooring; the produced sound roughly displaced the murky silence of his home and bounced into his gently twitching ears. Soon enough his paw was wrapped around the handle of his refrigerator. A quick tug and Thomas spun, his head scanning the now dimly-lit room with scrutiny. After he was done squinting at nothing, he lifted a chilled brown glass bottle from the rack inside.
"C'mon, c'mon." Thomas whispered in annoyance as he tried to work one of his claws underneath the stubborn cap.
It eventually gave and ricocheted onto the floor as the skunk clumsily grasped for it. He responded to the twinkling sound with a sigh and a chug. The refrigerator door swung shut with a thud, and Thomas carelessly swaggered back into his living room. He practically fell into the waiting cushions of his recliner. The impending weekend had administered a jolt of much needed relief to his work-addled mind, and each chug from his little brown bottle pulled him away from all thoughts of his responsibilities and deadlines in a little brown riptide. Phlegmatic heat rolled over him underneath his jacket; apparently even the air conditioning had been shut off. The skunk worked on the buttons of his suit in dexterous futility. It couldn't be avoided; he would have to relinquish his precious bottle. Thomas sat it on the small glass table beside his recliner and renewed his efforts on his buttons. Now revealed, the buttons of his white undershirt were also attacked. The lightly panting skunk flapped his jacket and vented the heat built up underneath his thick fur, and wasted no time reclaiming his 8.4 proof chalice after his sweltry impersonation of a chicken. Relaxation weighted his eyelids and his thoughts drifted to what most likely lay in wait for him upstairs. Should he get going? No, he decided, not yet. Thomas was eager for his Friday night highlight, but the recliner won over his considerations in the end; just a few more minutes, just a few. Thomas spilled his beer all over himself when a burly arm hooked itself underneath his muzzle and gently squeezed against his throat.
He was up as fast as his lulled mind would allow, and the arm let him rise; it did not, however, let him leave. Thomas fell to his knees when he tried to dash for the stairs. Strong claws hooked themselves through his jacket and held fast. Looking back over his shoulder, Thomas saw his assailant. Brilliant black eyes twinkled at him in the gloom. White fur accentuated dark streaks that ran down from the top of his head, over his eyes, to the tip of his muzzle. He was grinning. Thomas shrugged the jacket from his shoulders, cringing a little at the sound of ripping fabric, and clumsily got to his feet. He stumbled for the stairs and heard movement from behind him; the large badger was climbing over his recliner. The skunk bounded up the stairs, feeling the vibration of every heavy footfall close behind. A surprised little yip ejected from his muzzle when he was yanked backwards and dragged down, his stomach grating against the carpeted edges of the steps. Thomas felt the tug at his waist and hastily worked his buckle loose. The strong arms did the rest. He kicked his legs free of his slacks and pistoned himself upwards. Thomas ran across his upstairs hallway and fumbled with the knob of his bedroom door.
He was enveloped as soon as it swung open. Bulky arms wrapped themselves around his torso, pressing his back against a chiseled, taut chest. The badger squeezed him gingerly. Soon Thomas discovered he was nude, the larger--much larger--male's sheath prodding underneath his tail, rutting down into the fabric of his briefs, parting his furry cheeks and resting against the little pink pucker of his back entrance. A tiny shiver rippled through Thomas' legs at the cogent pressure splitting his rump; but he wouldn't let himself give in so quickly. The bristling skunk pushed back against the badger's crotch, and the amiable sensations caused the large male to bite the lips of his lower muzzle in controlled ecstasy. Thomas's lithe body slipped out from under the badger's distracted grip. He hopped and stumbled into the bedroom, removing his tighty-whities and giving them a toss towards his attacker's sill form in the doorway.
Soft candlelight bathed the skunk upon entry. He swung around to the other side of the bed and lowered himself into a defensive stance, grinning wildly. The badger slowly strolled in, and one of his claws lightly traced along the bed's edge while he took his time approaching the giggling skunk. As soon as Thomas felt he was within the badger's reach, he dove across the bed--though, the badger was just a bit quicker. Thomas was caught in a flying embrace, and suddenly found himself pressed down into his mattress by a bulky chest. He writhed, slowly wiggling himself out from underneath the weight of the badger, who chuckled at his actions. Thomas gripped and pushed on the broad shoulders hovering above him, grunting with the effort. Almost free, Thomas realized his mistake just a bit too late. All the friction against the muscular badger's body had coaxed his limp member from his feathery sheath. It draped over his sac, the blood slowly rushing in with little throbs as it began to stiffen.
As he pulled himself out, the badger took advantage at the passing of his unguarded crotch, rapidly lapping his long tongue across the glistening five inches of skunk cock. Control quickly left Thomas' muscles. He gasped in surprise as he slipped over the edge of the bed and fell to the floor with a dull thud.
"Ooh..." Thomas weakly hooked his arm onto the edge of the bed and pulled himself to his knees. "You know, that's probably the best tactic to keep someone from running away I've ever encountered." He sat down on the bed and let one leg swing free over the side. "Maybe the muggers should start using it. The park would be packed every night, I bet."
The badger propped himself up on the bed with his paws and bent over, almost touching noses with Thomas. "You givin' up?"
Thomas stifled a giggle. "Yup. I think you've got me right were you want me."
The badger laid his tongue behind an exposed fang and sucked. "You're such a pushover."
"And you're such a complainer." Thomas swatted the side of his mate's head with a pillow. He didn't bother holding back his laughter this time.
"I guess I don't blame you." The badger raised himself up and flexed. He turned himself around and worked the muscles underneath his back. Then he spun around, made a fist and curled his arm until it touched his shoulder. "No one holds out against this very long." The badger gave his ample bicep a little peck.
"Swoon." Thomas lent the word a hint of sarcasm, but his swelling member betrayed his inner thoughts. "So come on, Goliath. Come claim your prize."
Harold easily lifted the skunk in his arms and laid him across his lap. He plucked the glasses from the end of Thomas' muzzle. After rummaging through their dresser drawer, he produced a heavy comb and set to work on Thomas' back with slow, deep strokes. Thomas sighed in contentment. Why they couldn't just skip straight to this part he would never understand. Harold had always been into little dom and sub games ever since they first met eight months ago. It wasn't really Thomas' thing, but he always readily played along. What made Harold happy made him happy.
After covering every inch of his upper back, Harold brushed his way lower down the drowsy skunk. He absolutely adored his mate's fur; rich and thick like icing. It draped off his tail like an exotic portiere. The badger loved to run his fingers through it, stopping at all the right places for a quick and gentle massage; he loved the soft, quick moans his ministrations elicited from Thomas almost as much.
"Rough day?"
It took the skunk's liquefying consciousness a few moments to realize it was being addressed, decipher the words said, and remember that--oh, yeah, it could make those things too with the right electrical impulses. "No more than usual."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Nope." Thomas grinned.
Harold shrugged. "Fine, then."
Harold set to work on the skunk's glamorous tail. The badger's lips pulled back in a grin at the gasp that escaped Thomas. He knew all too well one of his mate's more sensitive buttons could be pressed with the right amount of attention given to his flowing tail. Gently, he gripped its base and kneaded, slowly working his way up. Then back down. Then back up. Placid yanks teased the skunk to the point he had to nip on one of his digits to stave off the moans piling in his throat. The badger's strong hands continued stroking, and soon he felt the skunk's smaller member stiffen and pulse against this thigh.
"Such a pushover."
A quick throw and Thomas was on his back, bouncing against the mattress. Harold hovered above, caging him. The badger wasted no time asserting himself, and he pressed his muzzle against Thomas' with a needful fervor. Thomas opened wide and moaned into his lover's throat. The skunk's tongue put up little resistance to the invader's explorations. Harold relished the vague hint of brew still permeating Thomas' maw, his lengthy tongue threatening to choke Thomas until the skunk mounted a sloppy counter attack. The playful skirmish in their joined muzzles slowly pushed the entwined males closer to their zenith. When Harold broke away, Thomas captured him again, wrapping his arms around the badger's thick neck and overwhelming him with a deep kiss. Usually Harold was the one in charge--in bed, anyway. Thomas' forceful advances caught him off guard, and the skunk pressed him back against their headboard, growling in need. The badger submitted to his mate's gropes and the slick, warm flesh darting into his muzzle. His arms lay limp at his sides while the skunk drank his fill. A tickly cocoon wrapped around his member, and the smooth polishing it administered forced him to discharge a grunt into the muzzle sealed upon him.
Harold's big paws found Thomas' wrists, and the badger forced him back down. If he didn't take charge again, the little guy would've probably kept him there until he milked him dry; no way was his skunk getting off that easy. Harold peeled himself from Thomas' advancing maw. Before the skunk could catch him again, he nuzzled and growled into the thick mass of fur on Thomas' chest. Harold held the scrawny arms in his grip fast. Thomas struggled, but the deep licks and passionate bites laid upon his throat quickly subdued him. He had him. Thomas had sort of hoped his hunky badger would let him take the top for once, but soon his pangs of avidity melted into quivering obedience under the heat of his mate's dominance.
"You stink like cheap beer." Harold's voice rumbled into the skunk's chest.
"I spilled it when you got all grabby." Thomas embraced the badger's head as it rutted into and sucked on the soft, lightly damp tuft at the center of his chest. "Getting a little rough, don't you think? And my jacket! I bet it's ruined." Thomas heaved a sigh. "I swear..."
Harold's head raised from Thomas' chest. A sly grin slowly parted his muzzle. "You know what? I bet it is." He lifted himself up and turned for the bedroom door. "Stay," he commanded.
Thomas watched the door bump against the wall with dwindling curiosity and growing annoyance. He had his fill of being teased and primed; it was time for some action, damn it. "Hurry up," he called out into the hallway, "if I don't get a hot dicking soon, you can count on a little backdoor surprise later tonight--when you least expect it."
The skunk propped himself up at the sound of heavy pads ascending the stairs. Harold had carried the ripped jacket back with him.
"What's--oh." Thomas placed his foot on Harold's chest as he came close. It brushed downwards in slow, teasing strokes before it came to gently knead against the badger's dangling member. The skunk gave his best seductive smile.
Harold fell on him. Pinned, there wasn't much the skunk could do to stop the rippling badger from slowly and carefully binding his wrists together with what was his former office wear. Thomas thought there had to be some kind of joke involving "casual Friday" in all of this, somewhere. Harold straddled him. Thomas gasped in surprise when he felt the tip of his maleness part the badger's cheeks and rub against the opening nestled between those firm valleys. Soft rubs along his tummy were more than enough to start him bucking in desperation. Warmth, slick and velveteen, enveloped his glands; Thomas promptly lost it. Grand, unhindered moans erupted from his throat and his hips surged upwards. Harold, though unpracticed, took him easily. A dull burn spread inside him from the skunk's withdrawal, and Thomas' eager thrusts filled him with a growing--and not entirely unpleasant--pressure. Somewhere deep inside his lust, Thomas wondered just how rough a going this was on his mate. He couldn't even fathom trying to accept Harold without a little assistance, but there his badger was, riding him bareback and lubeless--and he looked far from unhappy.
Soon they were in a steady rhythm, Thomas' pre-cum coating and greasing Harold's toasty insides. The badger rolled his hips down to meet the skunk's rising crotch. He clenched tight around the plump baton that feebly pounded into him from underneath, and a sharp cry squeezed itself from Thomas. A heavy musk, sharp and enticingly acrid, permeated the stale air of the bedroom. It drove Thomas wild. His small nostrils flared, sucking in as much of the visceral aroma as his lungs would hold. The skunk swam in it; it rolled in and blanketed his mind with , obscuring everything from sight but the moment. The exquisite dissoluteness had worked Harold into a mild frenzy, himself. The sensations brought on by his charitable impaling were not at all alien, but the beefy musteline always enjoyed things so much more when he was on the other end. Still, his prostate really didn't care either way; dripping and softly grunting, Harold found himself earnestly enjoying the role reversal. While he leaked all over his lover's stomach, one of his paws reached back and tenderly rolled the skunk's nuts against his firm pads. On and on, the badger let himself be tilled. As tentative as it was, he found being fucked by his little male far, far from displeasing; perhaps, he thought, this might become a regular thing for them. When he felt the luxuriant sac in his undulating clutch draw tight, that was his signal to bring everything to a dead stop.
Thomas suddenly realized his hips were rushing into nothing but air. "Oh, don't you do this to me! Not now!" His pleading was encased in an effete whimpering.
The skunk's bound hands frantically shot for his throbbing, glistening cock. It was all just too much for him; the rush of fucking Harold, of finally getting ahold of that little achievement he had wanted so long--but had always seemed well out of reach, since Thomas really was a big pushover--had taken him too close to the edge, and now he wanted nothing more than to tumble over. Harold beat him to his goal first. His thumb and pointer curled themselves around the base of the skunk's dick and squeezed hard--hard enough to hurt. At first the sensations pushed Thomas right to the bleeding--or, rather, spurting--edge and he stared, dumbfounded, over the side before the pain slowly reeled him back.
"God, Harold." There was a slight twinge in his voice as his paws tried to work the badger's digits loose. "Stop."
The badger wagged a claw disapprovingly. "Can't have you arriving early, now can I?" His smirk was wiped clean when he saw the budding tears in his skunk's eyes. Quickly, he let up and fumbled with a worried rationalization. "Oh come on, I know you love it. I don't recall you ever saying 'stop' to me--well, at least not like that--our first night, or the night after that, or the night after that..."
[* * * * *]
Their first night; that struck a chord within the skunk. Thomas had, on a whim, decided to spend his Saturday night out for once. One bar seemed just as good as another to him and he found himself sharing one with an animated celebration; from what Thomas picked up in their conversations, it was a birthday party. A fairly attractive raccoon seemed to be the birthday boy, and Thomas let himself steal furtive glances at the male's cute little butt while he hopped up on his table and danced to sharp whistles and claps. He didn't realize someone was right behind him until he felt their paws on his own cute little butt. Grab ass isn't really the type of game that breaks the ice, but it worked well enough on him; though the coctails probably helped. His groper's physique certainly did. One of the partygoers had wondered off from their designated table and unabashedly gripped the skunk's rump firmly.
"You're pretty."
"--Uh?" The badger's breath had all but knocked him flat. Thomas felt hammered just breathing it in.
"I--want you--to come home--with me." His swaying motions and pauses emphasized his statement, as if he was attempting to convey some sort of incredibly manifold concept to the skunk.
"I'm really not uninter--I mean, interested." Thomas swore inside his head; maybe he'd had just a bit too much of the sauce, himself. He nudged his drink away.
The choir of hardy laughter surrounding the tables lost a few of its tenors. Some had turned their attentions towards the badger, and their mood seemed to change while they observed him pawing and hanging off the young male skunk. Their smiles turned sour and uneasy; they tried to pretend they weren't looking, but Thomas saw the hint of repulsion twisting through their little eyes and droopy faces. Maybe, he thought, it was time to get the hell out of dodge.
The badger continued to mumble and drone on a little too loudly right into his ear, and the skunk leaned away, dismissing him with a wave and nod. "Yeah, ok, sure."
"Great!" the badger bellowed.
Thomas was dragged towards the door by a teetering and rambling Harold. Unpleasant faces watched them go. Yeah, leaving would probably be for the best, Thomas quickly decided.
As they passed the cheerful raccoon--who had ceased his dancing and now sat with a couple of busty bunnies giggling and writhing in his lap--he looked up. Realization slowly set in, and he gawked at the badger in confusion. "Hare...?"
Harold grinned and waved a goodbye as they passed outside. Thomas never saw the raccoon again, but he had a feeling Harold paid him one last visit after that night. Killing friendships didn't make him feel very good, but if the "friend" just couldn't cope--well, that wasn't really his problem, was it?
It was chilly. With all his fur Thomas usually dressed light, and even he could feel the creeping, tingling fingers of the wind as it rustled by.
"Where's your car?"
"Look, you're not coming home with me. I'll help you flag down a cab."
"Where's your car?" The badger honestly had not even heard the skunk's previous reply.
"No. Jesus..." Thomas nearly collapsed under the weight leaning against him. Please, please don't pass out, he thought. There was no way he could just leave the guy laying there in the parking lot, and he also knew there was no way he would be able to drag the big slab around.
So he opened the door on his little car and jammed the growling, handsy lump inside. Thomas had no idea what he was doing. Paws ineffectually worked at his fly while he leaned over the badger to buckle him in. Hard liquor had drained all of their strength, Thomas easily swatted them away.
As he pulled out and drove off, Thomas chided himself for being such a goddamn pushover. "Okay, listen, I'll drive you home. Are you listening? I said I'd drive you home. Where do you live?"
What came in reply was unintelligible.
"What?"
The badger had passed out.
Now Thomas was really lost. He drove around aimlessly for a few minutes while his mind lazily churned, trying to produce a place where he could leave the inebriated musteline. He kept seeing front page news; "TORSO FOUND IN 77th STREET DUMPSTER. Police discovered the limbless torso of a large badger male this afternoon when the street's garbage pickup disturbed its resting place. Autopsy revealed a large quantity of semen in the cadaver's stomach and intestines. District Attorney Steven Belarot commented on the horrific brutality of--"
"Goddamn it." Thomas headed home.
It took him all of twenty-seven minutes to drag the snoring badger from his driveway to his loveseat; it took another eight just to get him on it. The large badger looked slightly comical, his legs draped over the side of the small piece of furniture. Fatigue crushed the skunk's sense of humor into a gritty paste, but another feeling--something a bit more solid--seemed to be holding out underneath the weight.
Somewhere, an obnoxious little imp peeked out of his fading buzz and whispered to him. I bet he's uncomfortable in all those clothes. Go on, he'll understand. Hell, he'll thank you for it.
Thomas' member stirred inside his sheath, but he was just too tired to continue down that line of thought. It wasn't until his head rested on his pillow that the realness of his situation finally dawned on him; it illuminated slightly different headlines in his mind. The lock to his door clicked, and Thomas quickly fell back into his mattress. He was soon dead to the world.
The skunk had a hell of a time combing the tangles and brushing away the mats in his fur the next morning. With no regard for where they landed, Thomas peeled himself out of his dirty clothes and had almost walked out of his room naked when he remembered the badger that lay downstairs on his loveseat; that hopefully lay downstairs on his couch, and not in wait on the other side of his bedroom door with one of his kitchen knives raised. Suddenly, Thomas wished he had just left the bastard in the parking lot.
For some strange reason, standing there and listening to the soft breaths of the huddled masculine ball in his living room, Thomas found himself craving mushrooms. Thomas felt a little silly. His guest would probably be out for hours, and when he woke up, the skunk doubted the first thing on his mind would be robbing his savior blind. A few slices on his chopping board, some vegetable oil, and soon Thomas was dropping a few handfuls of shiitake into his skillet. He let them sit while preparing the table--for one. Ginger, scallions, a few cups of rice and one egg later, Thomas was breathing in an aroma he considered redolent while the constant sizzle danced in his ears. It improved his mood tenfold. Oven turned off, Thomas wrapped the skillet's handle in a pot holder and prepared to enjoy a nice breakfast. When he turned around, the badger sat silently at the table, a scowl of dismay on his face, his large paws resting on the edge. Skillet in one hand, the skunk pushed the plate meant for him over to his guest. Thomas caught a slight and brackish whiff of vomit as he circled him and raked out a portion of the contents of his skillet. He had hoped the badger made it to the bathroom in time. Harold stared at his plate, his maw slightly ajar.
"Fried mushrooms," Thomas explained.
Thomas fetched another plate and piled what was left over on it, trying his best to appear nonchalant about sharing his home and food with a complete stranger--albeit a toned and attractive one. The delicate clinks of stainless steel on ceramic were the only sounds in the entire house.
Harold was the one who finally broke the silence. "Did we do it?"
"No."
"Oh, okay." Harold picked at his breakfast for a few minutes. "'Cause--see--I'm not really gay, y'know? I mean, I have thoughts--everybody does, it's natural--but I'm not gay gay."
"We didn't do it."
"Why am I in your house?"
"You were plastered out in my car. Couldn't get an address out of you."
"Why was I in your car?"
"Because you asked me to come home with you."
"Oh, God..." Harold stiffened. "Who saw us?"
"Everybody, I guess."
"Oh, God..."
"You trying to hide it?"
"Huh?" Harold's brow furrowed. "Hide what?"
"That you're a big queer."
"I told you, I'm not gay! I just had a little too much and that's all!" He cradled his skull at the piercing loudness of his own voice.
"Alcohol isn't a magic fag potion, hon, it lowers inhibitions. I was where you are a few years ago. Really, it's not a healthy place to be. You should just come to terms with it." Thomas spoke in between mouthfuls of rice in a matter-of-factly tone.
Harold shook his head. "Not gay."
"Okay."
Thomas wolfed down his plate, Harold sat picking, prodding, and poking.
"Listen, I'll call you a cab and--"
"No money. Wallet's probably empty in the bar's trash somewhere."
"Bummer." Thomas was slightly impassive. "I guess you want me to drive you somewhere?"
"Nope."
Harold left without another word, and Thomas watched him disappear down the suburb sidewalk. The next afternoon, Thomas opened his front door to find him on his steps with a lightly swollen eye. His keen nose identified an aura of alcohol, with a hint of blood, surrounding the badger.
"Why'd you do it?" There was a slurring mixed with his words.
"Do what?"
"Come with me."
"Because you asked me to."
"And you just--wanted to?"
The skunk's paws were soaked and covered in suds. "I guess." He wiped them on the towel draped over his shoulder while he tried to find the words. "That's not really--I mean, I don't usually do that. I just thought I'd kinda, y'know, get out there and--see."
"And you saw me?"
"Yeah."
They regarded each other with chary stares.
Thomas was the one who dared to make the first move. "You want to come in?" He thought it best not to mention the eye.
It took Harold a few minutes to say anything; Thomas was close to just telling him to forget it and slamming the door. "I'd like that."
And so they enjoyed each other's company for the remainder of the day. Harold found Thomas to be delightfully sarcastic, and Thomas found Harold to be a hunk. The badger helped the skunk out around the house while their conversations waxed and waned around not much in particular. Harold revealed he had a fondness for action movies, jungle, and Harvest of the Spindle underwear catalogues.
Thomas chuckled knowingly at the last item. "Yeah, those got me through quite a few frustrating high school nights. You have any awkward lockeroom shower experiences too?"
"Oh, man! All you could do is try your best to hide your boner until you got under the water so you could at least attempt to blame it on that."
Time flew. There was no question as to whether or not Harold should spend the night; no hesitation, no thinly veiled inquiries or almost-too-late teary admissions at the front door. Everything felt so right, relaxed. Something had just clicked into place, and they both felt like they were seeing everything through brand-new eyes. They fucked like rabbits. Oh, sure, the badger was a little rough with his positioning and in their playful tussles, but Thomas didn't mind so much.
Sometime during their marathon the badger finally turned to a panting, sublimely aching skunk and gave him something to cry out the next time he was mounted. "Oh, Harold, by the way."
[* * * * *]
They went in for testing together first thing the next morning, and soon Harold had moved in. Thomas called in sick most of that first week together. Their days were filled with that magical, youthful kind of sex fresh, just-out-of-the-box couples are blessed with. Now their amative moment slowly bled out, punctured by Harold's overzealous bedroom eccentricities.
"I'm sorry, fluffy." Harold gingerly squeezed Thomas' paw.
The softness and concern in his voice sweetened the skunk. Not quite able to cross his arms because of his mock restrains, but trying anyway, Thomas feigned repudiation. "Prove it."
The badger slid his arms underneath the skunk and embraced him. "Anything for you. You know that."
Thomas melted under the radiating heat. Harold laid a trail of nips and slow, broad licks down the skunk's body and was rewarded with gentle quakes against his chest. The slow, firm sensations of the badger's muscles dragging itself down him quickly reinvigorated Thomas' erection. It dribbled into Harold's fur, leaving a little snailish path running over the firm risings of his abdominals. Wetness filled the skunk's bellybutton. The badger lovingly tongued and kissed the tiny hole, and Thomas leaked an elated sigh at his lover's attentiveness. His stiff member rested against Harold's throat as it milled along with the motions of the badger's constantly working muzzle. Wonderfully familiar strong paws gripped the skunk's waist as the cleaning shifted lower. The badger buried his maw into the downy valley of Thomas' thigh, letting his tongue run unbearably close to the ready shaft extending from the skunk's crotch. Meticulous grooming of the fine fur there filled Thomas with a dreamy hunger. He ran his claws through the thick fur of the badger's head while Harold lifted his nuts with strong licks. His muzzle buried itself underneath the skunk's sac, kissing and sucking with intensity.
"Oh, God..." Thomas' lower body was propped up by paws digging into his rump. His cheeks were spread. "Oh!"
Harold's muzzle clamped down and deployed his tongue. Thomas writhed and contracted. It was almost more than he could take. A torturous lewdness spread throughout him, born from the pressure rising inside his cock; he wasn't sure how much more of this he could stand without losing it and yelling, demanding Harold clean him where he so desperately wanted--needed--to be cleaned. The badger pulled away. Thomas was about to ask if something was wrong, but soon found himself in the air. His slender legs wrapped themselves around Harold's waist, and he hooped his bound hands over the badger's head.
"I love you."
"I love you, too." Thomas gripped Harold tightly. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the badger's chest. Thomas thought the sound from inside was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.
Harold rummaged through their dresser again and produced a black plastic bottle. He spread the oily substance inside over his cock and pressed his slick fingers into the skunk's ass.
"Finally," Thomas sighed into Harold's ear. His muzzle clamped down on thick shoulder as he was taken.
Thomas eased his weight down on the glossy black cock. Harold hooked his arms underneath the skunk's spread cheeks and held him close as he slowly sunk in. There was a sharp intake of air from the both of them as Harold hilted himself balls-deep in snug, piping hot skunk.
"Ready?"
Thomas groaned in affirmation.
Harold swung around and rested Thomas' back against the paneling of their bedroom wall. The skunk's claws dug into the wood and he prepared himself for a vigorous pounding. The large male wasted no time. His thrusts came strong and aggressive. Apparently, Thomas thought, his love was just as eager to get off as he was. The skunk could do nothing but hang there on the wall like a trophy fuck toy while he was plowed. His dick yearned, screamed for stimulation, its ooze matting the fine fur of Harold's stomach further. Now the musk that swept Thomas away was his own. His need infused it with a tang that stoked Harold's lust--the badger's pace had quickened further, and squeaky whimpers seeded the skunk's sharp exhalations with each collision with Harold's hips--and threatened to overpower him as well. Harold's breath came in ragged gasps. He had become lost in the rhythmic, moist sounds of coitus. Harold felt himself surge to his crest--and for one all too brief moment, he could not tell where he ended and the small male clutching at his head began.
With one final, deep thrust, Harold emptied himself into Thomas, who growled in his ear with satisfaction. His legs nearly gave out at the flooding of relief and release that crashed against him, and he struggled to keep himself and his skunk from the floor. Thomas clenched tight around him and grinned roguishly; the skunk knew how overly-receptive and delicate his big, strong male became after blowing his load. The feeling sent something that almost resembled pain shooting through Harold's junk. It nearly drained the strength from his knees.
"Turn about's a bitch."
"Yeah, just like you."
Thomas gasped as Harold lifted him higher. The badger's ropey arms raised the skunk until his muzzle was close enough to wrap itself around Thomas' bouncing dick. Harold attacked the swelling rod's head with his tongue. As soon as the badger started sucking, Thomas was done for. His nuts drew tight, his member swelled. The skunk erupted with an elongated moan directly into the badger's warm maw. Harold savored the taste. He saved every drop. His lips slowly dragged themselves down the pulsing cock resting on his tongue. Harold squeezed and worked the still-sensitive flesh like a stubborn tube of toothpaste, and kissed the milky remainder from Thomas' leaking slit.
The sensation on his tender head made his entire body quiver and his eyes water. Relief, sweet and absolute, was finally his. Thomas reveled in the gooey afterglow of his detonation. When Harold's muzzle pressed against his, he readily opened and accepted his own seed. Greedily, he gulped it all down and set to work on the leavings. He lapped deep into the badger's maw, ran his tongue over Harold's teeth. He sucked the flavor from Harold's tongue. They fell to the bed, panting; Harold, because of the intense face-sucking administered by his ravenous skunk, and Thomas, because he was utterly drained. The skunk thought it was quite possible that he had just cummed harder than he ever had before, and a wonderful aching snaked through his balls and up into his limp member.
They held each other there in the dim candle light. Thomas made it a point to end all their nights together with a warm cuddle, and Harold was more than happy to oblige. The binding on the skunk's wrists reminded him that a trip to Top Man's for a new jacket would most definitely be in order. That was okay; he had the entire weekend to get it. Thank God it was Friday.