FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

By the time Sunder caught up with Balio on the road, they were past McNeil and almost to the main fork to Wyndia. Balio looked almost normal, and only his gaze, unswervingly focused forward, and his gait, stomping down with excessive force, belied his attitude.

Sunder, meanwhile, had only managed to tug his shorts on and up; his cock was still half-hard and bulging blatantly (and a little painfully) out. He hadn't managed to get his armor or anything back on; he had been practically juggling the whole heap of clattering loose metal as he dashed down the road, trying to catch up. He'd probably given someone an eyeful, cock jouncing in front of him, his entire body shiny, all his hair dark and matted with sweat and come. Fuck, he stank of sex.

He was considering saying something-- but man, what to say? "Yeah bro, so how'd you like fuckin' me? Turn you on?" Shit, no matter what Balio was gonna say, it ain't gonna be good.

And then Balio said nothing. He glared over at him, sure, and he looked angrier than he'd even seen him before, and he balled his hands up into fists and looked about ready to strangle him, but he didn't actually say anything. After a short pause he even unballed his fists and kept walking like he was alone.

Sunder didn't know what he'd been expecting, but of all the options available, Balio trying to ignore it was probably one of the more pleasant options. He was sure Balio'd have a loud, angry freakout about it at some point, definitely. The further ahead it was, well, all the better for him in the present now.

Or at least that was what he hoped. From Balio's whole rant back there, while they'd been fucking, holy shit, he hadn't even known Sunder'd been sleeping around. Or he'd known but he'd thought-- what? That he was a big strong top and never took it up the ass like a fag? Fuck, he was messed up.

Sunder'd always just figured that... he didn't know what he figured, because he tried not to think about what his brother thought of his sex life. But now it seemed inevitable to think about it at least a little, 'cause he could still feel Balio's load oozing out of his ass as they walked down the thankfully-deserted path. He looked over at Balio every so often, worried and biting on his cheek. Honestly, the longer Balio put off his freakout the worse it would be, and this looked like he was setting in for an epic sulk.

The afternoon passed by uneventfully; they only passed a single damn person on the way over to Genmel, past Wyndia. It was some merchant or traveler or adventurer, whatever, and he didn't even have the heart to hold him up and steal all his junk. Balio still hadn't said a word, and the gross splatters of come across his body had gone from slippery to sticky to itchy, dry and flaking, over the hours. He was sure he made quite a sight, obviously fucked-over, with his coat matted and ruffed up backwards in sweaty patches.

Evening came and Balio was still walking resolutely on, like they hadn't walked across a mountain already today. Sunder was starting to worry that Balio was gonna walk all through the night to be at the gates of Genmel by dawn. More like he was worrying that Balio would make him keep up as some kind of perverse punishment march.

There were stars coming out high in the sky by the time Balio stopped, abruptly enough that Sunder didn't notice for a step or two and was almost right behind him, awkwardly close when Balio turned around, brow still furrowed.

"We'll camp out over there," he said, and pointed to a pretty nondescript part of the rocky, sparsely forested plain they were hiking through.

The moon was small and getting smaller, too, so it wasn't like they had a lot of light to get out their small, packed bedrolls. Well, like Balio had much light. Sunder had packed light to begin with and it hadn't even occurred to him to swing by the inn on his way out of town, chasing after Balio.

But then Balio tossed something dark and heavy at him, and although his first thought was something about stoning, once the rough fabric hit his chest and bounced off he'd realized that somehow Balio had gotten his pack. Which... he didn't even know how that could be possible. Had Balio actually stopped by the inn?

He came close to thanking him before remembering that they weren't talking, and even closer to hysterical laughter, because Balio had had the presence of mind to remember their stuff between fucking his little brother and having a bizarre angry sulk about it. It was so like him.

So he unrolled his mat and laid out the pathetic blanket and pillow that came with it, ignoring the sounds of Balio doing the same a little ways away. Fuck, his legs were all gritty with dirt, and the inside of his shorts were all slimy and generally gross, and it was all going to feel so much worse in the morning.

He sprawled back onto the mat and covered himself with his blanket, working his shorts off under it. It wasn't like he was expecting Balio to fly into a fit of lustful frenzy if he saw his dick or anything, but... he didn't really want to remind him that he'd fucked him earlier today. He didn't even pay attention to whatever Balio was doing, just spread out and closed his eyes as soon as he could.

And of course he had sex dreams. He was sleeping badly, which meant he was exactly awake enough to hazily realize how annoying sex dreams were but nowhere near lucid enough to wake up.

It wasn't anything cohesive, either. It would have been terrible if he was having sex dreams about Balio, but it would've made a kind of sense, given the day's events. Instead it was just a hazy reel of sex acts, grunting and groaning and panting and someone jerking him off, fucking him, of his hands roving across thighs and breasts and muscle, of sucking someone off and kissing.

He came, feeling the heady rush as his cock pumped in thick blasts, the orgasm sharp and intense even in his dream, and strong enough to wake him up with a jolt. Every single time he had a dream like that it felt like he'd come buckets and he always woke up expecting to be coated in come, and his sleepy mind was startled when, as always, he wasn't.

He'd been tossing and turning, apparently, because he was all twisted up, the blanket wrapped into a tight coil and tangled around his legs, pressed tight across his sheath-- which bulged out from his dream, the tip of his dick visible, but nowhere near the fully-erect, dripping length he'd had in his dream-- and spanned up across his chest, pinning one arm to his side. He was still gritty and gross, although the itch of sweat and drying come had thankfully faded away.

It was the middle of the night and he'd woken with a start, and that meant it'd be an hour until he could get back to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be awful, walking the rest of the way to Genmel. Then he noticed a wet slapping sound and looked over.

His eyes had adjusted to the dim moonlight as he'd slept, so he could clearly see Balio sprawled out on his mat, his blanket thrown off in a crumpled heap. Both his hands were wrapped around his cock and he was humping, thrusting upwards, fucking his slick, glossy cock through his fists.

Sunder stared, wide-eyed, as Balio shuddered with his whole body, practically spasming and thrashing as he jerked himself off. His cock perpetually shot off tiny thin strings of precome, splattering across his face and chest and leaving behind shining lines. His mouth was wide open, tongue lolling out as he panted for breath, and with a sick little thrill in the pit of his guts he could see threads of precome splatter into his mouth, webbing across his teeth and tongue for a fraction of a second before they broke.

Every so often he'd glance over at Sunder, staring with wide, wild eyes at his naked body. Fuck, Sunder realized with a start, the tangle of the blanket was pushing his balls up and out, showing off his sheath to anyone who happened to be lying nearby, and with the way his legs were tangled up Balio probably had a pretty good view of his ass too. And the show he was putting on-- it was his brother, sure, but it was his brother who'd fucked him yesterday and who was a huge, muscled unicorn and who was jerking off staring at him, and every part of that added up into something hot enough to make his cock stiffen, the head dribbling out a line of precome across his stomach.

Balio's cock spurted out a thick, stringy blast of precome and he moaned out, low. He actually opened his mouth wide and licked his lips, lapping the dripping mess into his mouth. Sunder's cock ticked up another notch as he watched; the blunt head pushed up through his matted, tacky coat over his stomach.

Balio leaned up, shoulders off the ground, and thrust his cock towards himself, the head just the barest distance from his mouth. He unfurled his tongue and pressed it flat against the fat flared head of his dick with a wet sound, strings of precome coating his tongue, most drooling down and dripping onto his chest, but a thick stream flowed down into his mouth, muffling his voice as he moaned again.

Sunder had to bite his cheek to stifle the whimper as he watched Balio. His cock was getting really hard, the whole thing seeming to pulse and throb in time with his heartbeat. Heavy strings of precome, like fat pearls, dripped in a wet line onto his stomach as Balio lapped at the head of his cock, now openly staring at Sunder.

Balio stroked his cock as it splattered precome all across his face, lapping and sucking at the head. It didn't take very long (but how long he'd been jerking off before, Sunder wondered) for his cock to spasm, the head flaring wide and the thick tube along the bottom pulsing wide as he started to come.

It caught him mid-moan, the first blast hosing him down. He jolted back in surprise, spraying back over his face just as much as shot into his open mouth. He moaned again and again, voice hitching and shaking as he came, thick ribbons of come shooting into his mouth and webbing across his lips. He swallowed in gulps as he came, drinking it down.

Balio pulled himself closer, tilting his hips up and stretching further. The huge muscles in his neck contracted as he struggled to shove his wide head in his mouth, sealing his lips around the thick, flared tip.

He swallowed repeatedly, throat working as he just kept coming, cock pulsing visibly. Thick white strings drooled out around his pumping cock, coating his neck and chest. Sunder couldn't keep in the little choking, gasping sounds as he stared, his own cock spitting out a messy burble of precome across his chest as he watched Balio drink down his load.

He continued thrusting up, still jerking himself off and leaning further forward until he was folded double, his legs up in the air and his cock half down his throat. He was slurping audibly, sick wet sounds that carried across their camp site. He bobbed back and forth, driving his cock deeper into his mouth as he gulped. Thick slimy bubbles of come frothed across his lips as he came, still staring at Sunder the whole time.

The thought crossed his mind that Balio knew he was awake; that he was getting off on having Sunder watch him. His cock spit out more precome at that thought, tiny fantasies of Balio panting out his name as he jerked off running through his head. He spurted out a thick rope of precome against his stomach and Balio groaned from low in his throat, muffled by his cock. Fuck, that too, Balio sucking him off and making those noises, groaning and gasping as he shot into his mouth... he felt the tense pressure in his stomach, his cock fully hard and dripping across his chest as he watched Balio.

Balio pulled off his cock with a slurping, sucking sound, prolonged and wet as his length emerged from his throat. The entire shaft was coated in viscous threads of phlegm and come, with huge frothy bubbles across the surface as they pulled off from his lips. The tip emerged with a wet slop, a gush of liquid splattering from his mouth down across his chest. It was still spurting sluggishly, hosing down his face with come as he gaped, jaw hanging open.

More than anything else (and there was a lot "else") it was his expression that set him off. Balio was such a stuck-up hardass that to see him like this, eyes glazed, breath coming ragged, grunting and whining as he sucked himself off... his flanks were heaving like he had just run a race or was about to throw up, but he kept lapping at his cock, drinking down his messy load, wantonly fucking his face. He was such a stuck-up hardass but he got off so hard on things he would never admit to, and fuck, he got off so hard to him, to him just lying there with his cock out. It probably shouldn't have turned him on so much, but he'd always liked to be admired.

He was aware of the building orgasm, like the muscles in his stomach were all twisting tight, slowly. Staring at Balio sent little sparks through his body, down in his gut and across his chest, but he didn't connect everything until it was too late, his cock throbbing and the rush of orgasm coming over him like a wave.

He let out a surprised breath, like someone had punched him in the gut as his cockhead flared wide. His gaze finally snapped away from Balio's lewd display just in time to get a shot of his come to the face. He rocked up, grinding his one free hand against his hips, against the pubic bone at the base of his cock.

He shut his eyes as his come splattered across him, heavy ropes of it running lines across his chest and face. He grasped at the base as he started to arc his hips, jerking the sensitive inches near the base. Heavy slugs of come hosed him down even as he slowed, pouring out come onto his chest. He could feel it covering him, drooling down the side of his face, across his flanks, down his stomach.

His sleeping mat was saturated, his tangled blanket matted and soaked with his load. He wiggled around in an attempt to free his legs and arm, grimacing as he felt his come slide across his thighs, dripping down between his legs and coating his ass and tail. He felt positively buried; if he'd had any sense he would have pointed his cock in any direction except directly at him.

That just made think of Balio coming, and how he'd cleaned up the mess when he came, and that coaxed another long, messy splurt of come that splattered down across his muzzle and neck with a wet slap. He cracked an eye open, eyelashes coated with thin strings of come, and peered over at him. Balio was lying on his side, facing away from him. Pretending to sleep.

He sat up, making another face as that made the slick mess of come across his chest drip more, and tried to brush the worst of the mess off him. Sitting up, though, gave him enough height to see Balio's still-hard cock clasped tight to his chest, with thin strings of come shining in the dim moonlight. His cock spasmed again, a final dollop of come gathering at the tip to draw out into a line slowly and plop down to the mat.

Still, if Balio cared enough to fake sleeping he probably wasn't going to fake waking up just so he could yell at him for coming in his 'sleep', so he untangled his blanket, completely dripping with his load already, and used it as a towel to at least get the worst of the mess off him and his mat. There was no way Balio wouldn't notice the dried crust of come on it in the morning, not to mention the smell that was going to follow him around until he got a real wash, but he'd been in such a bizarre mood since McNeil that he'd probably let it go without comment.

He was lucky it was a warm night, too-- he really didn't need the blanket at all, thankfully, so he hung it spread out on the limb of a nearby tree. And now he was in even worse a state; covered in a fresh batch of come. His mat was covered in it too, even the dirt around it was dark with the come that had spilled over the sides.

Since he was up and awake in the middle of the night, he figured he might as well use some of the time to clean himself up. And he was a real mess, too. All he could really do was towel himself off vigorously, getting the worst of it out of his hair and on to the blanket. He scrubbed down the mat, too, and flipped it over to scrub off the gross mud of dirt and come stuck to the bottom, then moved it over to where it could dry during the night and hopefully be a little less gross by morning.

But none of it was enough to get his mind over the fact that Balio had just sucked himself off while staring at him getting hard, or that he'd come without even touching himself, staring and Balio and thinking about them fucking.

Still... it was really late, and whatever, even if he had to confront a lot of shit between him and Balio, well, he could do it after they got to Genmel. It was going to be rough enough tomorrow without adding all their issues on top of it. He lay back down on his damp mat and vowed to get to sleep-- he really would need his rest.

With one last glance over at Balio, still on his side and probably just as wide awake as he was, Sunder closed his eyes and, after what felt like an eternity listening to Balio rustling and the sounds of the plains at night, drifted to sleep.

Morning came as it always did, which is to say loudly and far sooner than it had any right to. Sunder woke, kind of chilly, to Balio stomping around and generally grumbling, and it wasn't until he'd gotten up and started rolling his (considerably more dingy and still kind of pungent) mat up that he fully realized that he was squatting down completely naked, and that Balio's sounds from behind him had stopped.

He resolutely ignored it; he didn't really want to look behind him just to catch Balio staring at his ass with a tent in his shorts, or whatever he was actually doing. He'd say Balio was fucked up-- and, yeah, Balio was definitely fucked up-- but he'd come last night just by thinking about him, so in their contest of fucked-up-edness he was a close second.

He'd forgotten about his shorts in the night, and they were as gross as ever, covered in splotches of dried come. His blanket was in a little better shape; a little stiff but not crackling with come. It smelled terrible, and when he folded it his hands came back covered with tiny little white flecks.

The very first thing he was doing when they got to Genmel was taking a bath, followed immediately by washing all his traveling junk.

Balio, aside from staring at him inappropriately until he finally gave in and put his gross shorts back on, was as quiet and surly as ever. When they had all packed up, all he did was catch Sunder's eye and then toss his head in the direction they had to go, and they were off.

It was going to be another long day's walk. They passed the road to Wyndia after a few hours, and not very long after that they wound their way through the gorge, all the way down to the river at the bottom. If it was any other trip and he was this filthy, he would've whined at Balio until they stopped and then he would have bathed, but, in the understatement of the year, things had been different between them since they fucked. So instead he trudged silently behind and looked wistfully at the clean, cool river as they walked over the bridge and out into the desert.

They'd really slacked behind yesterday; normally they'd get to the desert in midmorning, before the day's heat had soaked into the sand. As it was, it was after noon and the desert was hot. The air rippled in waves all around them. He'd been sweating a little already, just from the walking, but after not even fifteen minutes after the prairie turned into dry scrub grass he was dripping.

His mind wandered, as it always did when they walked, and he groaned and huffed without even consciously realizing it. He upended one of their waterskins over his head to cool off and only noticed Balio staring at him with an extremely unusual expression after, he'd stuck out his tongue to lick droplets of salty water from his muzzle. He kind of jolted in surprise, and Balio's eyes got wide and he whipped his head back around.

Sunder was so glad when they got close enough to see Genmel, a dark line before the mountains on the horizon, rippling in the heat. Yeah, sure, water, bathing, clean clothes and all that, but it also meant he could be away from Balio and all his weird issues for a while. That'd be so nice.

And it looked like he was finally going to get it, too, when they got to the city wall. The quiet and dark of the coliseum was wonderful after the desert heat, just now entering the hottest part of the afternoon. It was an ancient building, made from crumbling stone, and the blocks were constantly damp with condensation. It was wonderful.

They dumped their travel packs in one of the tournament rooms and Balio got to work yelling at everyone, transparently taking out his confusion and anger on anyone nearby. Which sucked for everyone else, but honestly Sunder was mostly just glad that apparently Balio was too spooked about everything between the two of them to get all angry and shouty at him.

Honestly, if Balio was any kind of reasonable person (which, of course, he knew from long experience he wasn't) they could just talk about it, but no, Balio was all repressed. The more he thought about all his shit the angrier he got, but he couldn't ever get mad at Sunder about it, because Sunder knew. Man. Balio was fucked up.

But, thankfully, that left him free and unwatched, because Balio was busy up in his "office" yelling at the people who actually managed the Contest about their supposed incompetence. So, first things first: he headed to the cistern and drew off most of a barrel of water; enough to get himself clean.

He hoisted the sloshing barrel over his shoulders and headed to one of the participant waiting rooms-- the place was such a tangle of rooms, nothing was ever where it was reasonable to put it, but he'd gotten used to it by now-- and set the barrel down and started cleaning himself off.

Fuck, he was gross. He hadn't really been able to wipe himself down after Balio had fucked him, and they'd both blown their loads all across him. And then he'd come all over himself in the night, and then he'd walked all the way here and worked up a lathering sweat, and he felt gross and oily and sticky and, just... not good. At all.

The first ladle-full of water across his head was a wonderful sensation, even though he felt a little hesitant to actually touch his own coat. It was amazing what a little water and soap could do, though, and he lathered himself up, lines of suds sliding slowly down across his chest and back, and worked all of his hair, washing out the disgusting mess. His hair was a gritty and gross, and his tail looked grey with dirt.

And he hadn't really noticed before, but damn, Balio had left bruises. He had clear handprints across his hips, where Balio had been clutching him when they fucked. He'd seen the little ovals of his fingertips before, of course, but he had the whole handprint there, on both sides, showing a dark purple-blue through his beige fur. With his shorts on, they'd only just barely peek over the waist, but naked they were shockingly obvious. He wondered how much of Balio's staring at him was actually him staring at hard evidence they'd fucked.

So it wasn't just that Balio was a controlling freak, he was actually messed up enough to, like, mark the people he fucked. Sunder sighed and ran a hand through his gritty, oily hair. Hopefully he could just avoid Balio for the week or so it took for him to heal up. No, that was never going to happen. Maybe he could avoid fucking Balio again. That was probably doable. This whole thing was a mess. Sunder sighed and decided to just... not think about Balio. For a while. It wouldn't help, anyway.

He soaped up his heavy balls, sliding them around in his loose sack, and then slid his hands across his thighs, working up a lather there as he washed his stomach and sheath, his cock awakening enough to show the first stubby inches of his thick shaft.

He considered jerking off, except... well, for one, it wasn't completely impossible that Balio would come looking for him, and if he caught him jerking off... well, they'd probably end up fucking again, honestly, and he tried to ignore how that made his cock stiffen and bloat more; his shaft surging out from his sheath. So much for not thinking of Balio.

But also, he was in Genmel now, and that meant there were plenty of people who'd want to fuck him that weren't related to him. So he could wait for a while. If anything, it'd be more satisfying that way.

Or at least that's what he hold himself, as he lathered one hand across his ass, slowly working his bunched sheath back and forth along his shaft with the other. His cock was almost fully out, drooping and half-hard. He slid his hand across the hard muscle of his ass, until his slick, soaped up fingers glanced across the pucker of his asshole.

He couldn't resist letting out a low whimper as he pushed a finger up inside himself, followed almost immediately by another two, until he could really fuck himself. The soap tingled against the inner walls of his ass and he knew if a few minutes it would be a god-awful itch, but for now he pressed his fingers deeper and felt his legs tremble when his broad fingers crashed against the walls of his ass.

Sunder stumbled backwards awkwardly, one hand up his ass, and steadied himself against the wall. His cock had dripped out a long line of precome, cutting through the soapy lather across his shaft and it was really hard to pull his hands away from himself, off his hard, straining cock and out of his ass, and finish washing himself.

It was like there was a growing tangle behind his cock and the only thing that gave him relief were the brief, absent touches across his cock as he soaped up his legs. He stooped down once to wash his fetlocks and actually smacked himself across the side of his face with his cock, slapping aside the soapy lather and leaving behind a messy splatter of precome.

For a second he froze in place, his breath hot against the head of his cock. He couldn't avoid thinking about Balio, how he'd done this, and his cock spurted out a wet burble of precome that splattered loudly against the cobbled floor. As if the sound had broken him out of a trance he stood up abruptly, breath coming a little fast. He washed his muzzle, again, and eventually just upended the barrel over the top of his head, hoping the cold water would soften his raging erection.

It didn't, and he needed to pour the rest of the water across his cock to even wash off the bubbling mixture of soap and precome, and even then there was a sudsy tangle left in the shaggier hair just above his cock. He had to wet his fingers down and probe in his ass, moaning and grunting as his cock spurted precome, to wash out the soapy residue before it really started to burn.

At that point it really seemed like he might as well jerk off anyway-- the room stunk of precome and musk and his cock was achingly hard by the time he finished. But he resisted; kept his hands away from his cock, even as it bobbed up and down with each step, slinging precome across his chest and splattering it across the floor with every step. Yeah, so much for getting clean, Sunder thought.

And his shorts were still absolutely filthy. They were stiff and crackling, bleached white with come and then covered in dirt and dust. And they smelled. Sunder nudged them with one hoof and then decided to leave them. He probably ought to just burn them and be done with it.

He had another change of clothes, sure, but his stuff was in the back rooms, past Balio's "office", and there was no way he was going back there when Balio was probably still in a shouting, cursing rage. And while he was naked and hard he might as well find someone to fuck anyway. More efficient that way.

He stepped out into the corridor, his cock throbbing wetly against his abs, half-hard. He busied himself trying to get his mane to stick up in its usual mohawk as he walked through the hallways, painfully aware of his aching cock, still slowly dripping precome.

The first person he saw in the coliseum was a human, one of the low-lifes who hung around. He was tanned and muscular, or at least as muscular as humans got, and only wearing some loose shorts and a red bandanna to push back his shaggy hair. He turned to watch Sunder as he walked down the dimly-lit corridor, his eyes tracking his jutting, bobbing cock and slowly trailing up across his stomach. Sunder smirked down at him as he approached. He never really got used to how short humans were; the guy only came up to his chest when he stopped in front of him.

His face was all flat and weird looking, too, but it was obvious he was leering at him; his thin straight lips were pulled back in an eager grin.

Sunder reached down and stroked his cock once, the simple touch enough to bring his flagging erection back to full hardness. Then he reached down between the guy's legs, cupping his hand around the hard bulge of his cock.

The guy arched forward while groaning and reached out to take hold of his cock with both hands, the head already dripping precome across his shoulders and chest. It was effortless to lift the guy up, letting him feel across the rest of his shaft and grope at his heavy muscles. It was really tempting to let the guy jerk him off right here, maybe see how much of his cock he could take -- and his cock let loose a messy burst of precome at the thought, splattering up across the guy's shoulders and down his back -- but it wouldn't be that satisfying. Humans never were, even when they gave up on trying to make anything fit and just worshiped his body. And he had a better catch in mind.

He regretfully pushed the guy back, his cock slipping from his grasp and slapping back against his chest, slinging more precome across his formerly-clean coat. "Come by later," Sunder said, muzzle pressed against the side of the guy's head. "and I'll let you finish this."

He could feel the wet heat coming from the guy's cock as he cupped it; the guy was probably just a fraction of an inch away from coming in his shorts. He gave him a final jerk and set him down, leaving him panting against the crumbling wall, one hand shoved down the front of his shorts as he stared at his back.

He hadn't really thought about it until he turned away from the guy, but he had his sights set on someone specifically. The Contest wasn't more than a month or two ahead, and people were already arriving-- mostly contestants or merchants. One of the new contestants, someone they'd recruited to be champion this year, was a titanically huge gargoyle man, and he looked strong enough to legitimately win against anyone they threw at him. He was probably the biggest guy he'd ever seen, and he'd been aching to see what he looked like naked ever since he set eyes on him. The guy'd been playing hard to get, but Sunder was sure sooner or later he'd crack. And the best thing was he pretty much lived here these days, so he was sure to be around.

Sunder barged into the contestant quarters without even the slightest pause. "Hey, Garr," he called out, spotting the huge gargoyle going through a series of martial arts moves, or something like that.

The gargoyle was still dressed like an Urkan priest, too, which Sunder always thought was pretty hilarious. They'd had a bunch of dogs come through a few years ago wanting to fight in the Contest, and their backstory was that they were exiled Urkan priests. It hadn't taken him long to find out that in more passionate moments their awkward, affected Urkan accents lapsed into a thick Wyndian drawl. They'd lost, of course, because they kind of sucked and because they were shit at throwing fights. He always thought of that whenever he saw Garr, but right now it just served as an unwelcome distraction, because he immediately recalled just what, specifically, he'd gotten up to with the four of them, and that made his cock lurch against his abs as he thought of him and Garr in the same positions.

But Garr was apparently still all stoic, because he hardly looked up at him as he moved from one pose to another... or whatever. It wasn't like Sunder knew anything about fancy fighting styles. He frowned.

"So I was just thinking that, y'know, we could train somewhere, together," Sunder said, and leaned back against the wall, letting his cock jut forward and up, long lines of precome slowly sliding down the shaft. "Or maybe we could just go somewhere and fuck," he said after a short pause when Garr completely ignored him.

There was a long, annoying pause as Garr shifted through his movements as if he wasn't even there. Sunder curled his lip up. "Fine, fucking be that way. When you come begging for me I'll tell you just where to shove it!" he yelled, and then cursed.

He turned and stormed away, swearing up a storm. The guy was just so fucking stoic, like he didn't even have a fucking sex drive. It made him want him even more, being all hard-to-get. His hooves made loud clopping noises against the cobblestones, and that was apparently enough warning for anyone going by; he didn't see anyone else as he stormed through the hallways. There were people here who would definitely fuck him; people who knew how good it would be, unlike Garr, who didn't know a damn thing.

The desert was still hot and dry when he emerged; he could feel it sucking the last remaining water from his skin. His cock was still dripping precome, slowly, and the heat on his cock brought out a low rumbled groan from him. Fuck, everything was turning him on now.

He made a straight line to one of the larger tents; one that they set up months in advance. No one would be drinking this early, and if anyone was he'd tell them to get the fuck out or join the fuck in.

Fahl was in there, as usual, when he shoved aside the heavy draping covering the entrance and entered the slightly cooler air inside. He was doing something behind the bar, he didn't really care what, but he looked up when he entered and didn't seem surprised at all with him there, naked and fully hard.

"Didn't hear you get in," Fahl said, completely unperturbed.

"Balio's in some huge sulk." Sunder waved his hand around abstractly; he didn't want to talk about. "We were quiet coming in. Let's fuck."

Fahl slowly set the bottles he was holding back behind the bar. "Okay."

Sunder hadn't actually stopped moving at any point in their 'conversation', if you could even call it that, and by that time he was on Fahl's side of the bar and could drop to his knees.

Fahl wore an old stained apron over his front, and Sunder pulled it up as he jerked his pants down. He pressed his muzzle against his flaccid dick before he'd even done that, tasting beer-stained fabric for a brief moment before his lips fastened against the thick girth of his cock.

He stooped down further, nuzzling along his shaft and closing his lips around his huge, hefty balls. Yeah, this was gonna be nice. Fahl was hung, his cock almost as big as that of a minotaur. And it was thick, too. Being a gigantic armadillo had its benefits, and Fahl was well-hung even for them. His own cock dripped precome slowly as he licked and sucked across Fahl's stiffening cock.

"You get right to business," Fahl said above him, and chuckled as he untied his apron and lifted if off, then tossed it down on the counter beside him.

"Balio's so fuckin' frustrating," Sunder said, muffled a bit as he tongued the damp, sweaty space under Fahl's cock, above his balls. "Haven't gotten laid in forever." Which wasn't entirely true, but he was taking an "incest doesn't count" stance and sticking with it.

"Boy, didn't you ever learn not to talk with your mouth full?" Fahl grabbed his horn with one of his huge hands and angled it back, groaning as Sunder lapped at the underside of his stiffening cock. "Yeah, come on," he groaned, low.

Fahl was half-hard, and that meant his cock was already thicker than Sunder was. That was the thing with armadillos-- Fahl wasn't that much taller than him, maybe just half a head, but he was broad and thick, way more than twice his weight, and despite his gut, a good part of it was muscle. His foreskin had rolled back partway, revealing the fat rounded head of his dick, and Sunder finally took it into his mouth, rolling it the rest of the way back with his lips as he sucked on the head.

His cock was pretty close to exactly as large as he could physically fit in his mouth, and he had to open up wide to even attempt to fit the head of it in his mouth. The rest of it-- and there was a whole lot left-- he stroked off with both hands, his fingers barely overlapping around its girth. He slurped loudly on the head as he bobbed back and forth, taking the head and a little more before it hit the back of his muzzle.

Fahl groaned and tugged at his horn, finally angling his head so that he could grab him and pull forward, force-feeding him his cock as it pushed forward into his throat. Sunder just groaned as it plunged into him, his lips spread wide around the shaft with enough left still to jerk off with both hands.

He pulled off with a wet slurp. "Lemme fuck you."

Fahl nudged his lips with the tip of his dick. "Keep sucking. Been a while since I've gotten laid too." Sunder spread his lips wide and took him in again, and he groaned. "Yeah..."

Fahl let him bob back and forth for a while, jerking himself off lightly as he sucked. "You can fuck me, but after that I get a go at you, how about." It was a statement, not a question; Fahl knew him well enough to know he'd hem and haw and stutter about it for a while, but he'd always say yes. Fuck, he wanted to fuck someone, and if afterwards that meant Fahl would fuck him boneless, well, all the better.

He pulled off Fahl's dick, finally fully erect, and got a faceful of precome. His cockslit bulged out, dripping precome slowly, and Sunder leaned down to shove his tongue against it, just barely managing to push the tip in. Fahl's whole body shuddered and he almost staggered, and Sunder got a burst of precome big enough to overflow his mouth and trickle out across his lips. He pulled back and the whole mess splattered down to the ground messily, half of it hitting his achingly-hard dick solidly.

"Fine," Sunder said, but he had to wipe his mouth and cough and swallow and say it again before it was intelligible.

Fahl reached down with one of his huge hands and stroked the base of his cock, slightly slick with spit and precome, and to tug at his balls, hanging loose and heavy between his massive thighs. "Don't stop yet," he said with a smirk, and gently tugged Sunder back to his cock, pressing his muzzle against the dripping tip for a half-second before Sunder opened up again.

Fully erect and Fahl was huge, almost too big for him to fit in his mouth. He was rock-hard, too; there was no way he could fit that down his throat. And Fahl wasn't quite as copious as a horse would be, comparatively, but given his larger size he was making an even bigger mess, with thick ribbons of precome and spit drooling out of Sunder mouth as he sucked, not even able to get his mouth closed around its girth.

Sunder sucked on him audibly, noisily. He could probably swallow most of his pre, thick and mellow, but he'd end up with a full stomach before long, so he just closed his throat and let it all drool out in stringy ropes, running down his neck and splattering down all across his chest. He jerked himself off as he bobbed back and forth; his dick was getting splattered with Fahl's precome as it poured out of his mouth, and it was good lube. He just had to make sure not to actually come from it.

Fahl pulled him back and forth along the first foot of his cock, making him take it until it hit the back of his mouth and then pulling back out until the ridge of his cockhead popped out with a gush of liquid, force-feeding his cock repeatedly with his hand clutched around Sunder's horn.

Sunder finally pulled back with a messy slurp, precome pouring down his neck and chest and dripping in strings from his tight, erect nipples. "Come on," he said, hoarse and unintelligible again, but Fahl got the drift.

Fahl grinned and got to his knees with a muffled thud, then turned around and went on all fours. He lifted up his stubby tail, giving Sunder full access to his puckered asshole. He could still see part of his cock, behind his huge drooping balls. Fahl was huge, and that meant for once it was gonna be easy for him to stick it in. But he was looking forwards to Fahl figuring out how to stick it in him.

Sunder had to stand up before his cock would line up with Fahl's asshole, but once he did he just shoved in hard. Fahl moaned, and his cock twitched and spurted precome in a rope, webbing between the bottles under the bar. He took him in effortlessly, and it only took two shuddering thrusts until his balls were flush against his huge ass. He was tight and gripping and slick inside, and fuck, he had really been looking forward to this.

He gave a few experimental thrusts, groaning and huffing already. He was going to pop after just a minute, he knew. He was just too worked up for anything else. Fahl's meaty asshole clenched tight around his cock as he tried to pull back, and just the feeling of his cockhead pushing back and forth through the thick ring of muscle almost made him come. Each burst of precome up into him felt like he was pushing his guts out through his cock, like his cock was bulging outwards with each blast.

Sunder pulled back and hilted himself again, already feeling lightheaded with impending orgasm. He wanted to draw it out as long as possible, though, so he froze in place, his body trembling as his cock pulsed and flexed, still pumping out precome in a steady stream.

So, of course, that was when Balio stomped into the tent. Sunder just swore, because of-fuckin'-course this would happen. But, goddamnit, it wasn't like Balio had any reason to look for him. He had to be doing it on purpose this time.

But if Balio had any secret motives he clearly wasn't aware of them himself, because he was an awful actor and his yelp of surprise had to be genuine.

"Sunder!" Balio roared, as Sunder pulled out of Fahl with a sloppy pop. "What the fuck?!"

Sunder wasn't quite angry enough at Balio to yell right back at him, but it was a close thing. His ragged sigh was close enough to a growl of rage for anyone with a clue to realize he was pissed off, but Balio either didn't know or didn't care, and Sunder was honestly betting on the former.

Sunder staggered to his feet, his cock still dribbling precome down its entire erect length, and Balio kind of froze in place for a half-second, his eyes focusing on his cock, its pink darkened to a rich red and the entire shaft glossy with precome. Out of the corner of his eye Sunder could see Fahl stand up too, and somehow manage to, like, blend into the background, because Balio's gaze didn't flicker off him for a second.

"I thought I told not to go slutting around!" Balio yelled, and okay that at least proved he'd seen Fahl, even if he was carrying on like they were the only two in the room. "You think I like you doin' this?" he said, which didn't even make sense.

Sunder didn't even know where to start. Fahl had already sidled into the back of the tent. Absolutely no help whatsoever. Although he had to admit, everyone knew it was an awful idea to get between the two of them when they were fighting, so he couldn't really blame him. "It ain't any of your business!" he finally managed, and apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Balio clomped closer and put him into a headlock.

"You're my bro," Balio said in an angry growl, apparently not caring this time how Sunder's half-hard cock was slapping across his stomach and thighs as he struggled, liberally smearing their coats with precome. "I gotta take care'a you, make sure you don't turn out like some sissy fag."

"Oh, fuck off!" Sunder yelled back, still struggling against Balio and not entirely sure if he wanted to try goring him. "Come the fuck off it, we both fuckin' know what gets you off!"

Balio shoved him away abruptly with a motion that sent Sunder crashing to the ground, through one of Fahl's shitty tables.

"So you're gonna be like that, huh?" Balio asked rhetorically, punctuating by cracking his knuckles. It would probably be a little more intimidating if Sunder hadn't heard him affect the same dangerous voice every single time he got into a fistfight, which was often. "My own bro actin' like a stuck-up little bitch," he said, and Sunder maybe would have said that he was making no sense again except, as usual, Balio lunged forwards mid-sentence, as if he was honestly expecting Sunder to be surprised by it considering that was how he started all of his fistfights.

Balio was sure as hell faster and stronger than him, but they were both hotheaded and Sunder knew enough to know when Balio was kind of losing it, so it was pretty easy for him to catch Balio in the stomach with one of his hooves and pull him forwards, letting his lunge carry him over top until he crashed into another one of Fahl's tables, breaking it into two large pieces and a lot more smaller ones.

There still wasn't much of a debate over which one would win any fight between the two of them, but Sunder sure as hell wasn't just gonna roll over again. They clutched at each other and rolled back and forth across the dirty, sandy ground more like a pair of jackals than two unicorns, and he had to admit he got a not entirely unpleasant lurch in his stomach when he felt Balio's cock, half-hard, press against his sheath through his shorts.

Balio got him pinned down for good sometime after they'd broken almost all of Fahl's shitty furniture but before they'd broken the rest. Balio's stocky legs were spread over his thighs, his hands clutched so hard around Sunder's forearms his fingers had dug into the ground beneath. Sunder tried to roll back and forth with jerky movements but Balio remained on top, snarling and cursing.

"Sit still" Balio finally managed to yell, and slammed his elbow against Sunder's shoulder. "Look at you," he said, sneering down at him, and snorted as Sunder let out a little yelp of pain. "Just another little bitch who thinks he's a man." He shook his head. "I should'a done somethin' sooner, bro. Now you're just a trashy little fag begging for cock."

If Sunder was feeling suicidal he would have pointed out that both of them had an erection right now, Balio's cock hard and tenting his tight, stretchy shorts out obscenely, just-barely-but-not-quite pressing against Sunder's cock, half-hard and spanning out across his stomach. He settled for glowering at Balio as he rambled on, wanting to yell at him to get to the fuckin' point already.

But maybe he shouldn't have thought that, because Balio reached down and grabbed at his neck, pulling him painfully up into a sitting position. "Now I gotta show you what being one of those little fags is really about, bro," he growled, spittle splattering across Sunder's muzzle as he raved, their noses almost touching. "It means being a weak, slutty cocksucker. You wanna suck cock, bro?!" he yelled, and then continued on like he hadn't even asked. "I ain't gonna like doin' this to you, bro..."

Balio trailed off and Sunder was waiting for him to, whip it out or whatever (and looking forward to it a little, if he was being completely honest), but instead Balio moved back and stood up, keeping a lock around his neck. He dragged him out of Fahl's tent, and Sunder wondered if Fahl was even this in there or if he'd up and left as soon as he could-- in his shoes, he'd've left, and back towards the coliseum. Thankfully it was still deserted outside; Sunder didn't really want anyone to see them both, a little bruised and bloodied, him naked, Balio with an obscene bulge in his shorts, as he dragged him across the sands.

They weaved through the empty halls of the coliseum, ending up somewhere near the back offices, and Balio finally shoved open a door, almost busting it out of its shoddy frame as it slammed against the old stone walls, and tossed Sunder down on what turned out to be an old broken-down mattress.

Sunder didn't even really have the time to yell anything, surprised or insulting or anything else, before Balio grabbed at his hands and pinned them behind him, and Sunder had a half-second of reaction before he realized Balio was tying his arms behind his back, coiling the rope all the way up and down his forearms and looping it across his elbows until he could barely wiggle them.

"What the fuck--" he finally exclaimed, and Balio just knocked their shoulders together, none too lightly. There was a final hitch against his arms that was apparently Balio hooking the rope to the mattress, or to the frame beneath it, if there even was one. Balio made a disgusted snorting noise as he pulled back and Sunder automatically tried to move towards him, his lip curled up in a snarl, but he jolted against the constraints of the rope, keeping him anchored on the mattress.

"I ain't gonna like doing this to you, bro," Balio said, and he honestly sounded, like, disappointed. "But you gotta learn that fags take it like a bitch. They get fucked, bro," and his entire bizarre "sympathetic" monologue would have been a little less surreal and hypocritical if his cock hadn't been tenting out his shorts, a wet dribble of precome darkening the fabric as he talked. "There are fuckin' perverts who stay here, guys who'd even fuck another guy if it meant gettin' off," Balio said with a disapproving toss of his head. "They're gonna fuck you 'til you can't walk, bro. Maybe then you'll shape up."

During his monologue he tried to tie Sunder's legs to the bed around his fetlocks, and he was too dumbstruck to even kick him in the face. He honestly did not even know where to begin, but it wasn't looking like Balio was expecting any response. He turned to go, leaving the door wide open, sagging in the splintered doorframe as he went. His hooves clopped against the flagstones as he walked away, but before he got too far Sunder finally found his voice and shouted "Fuck you, you fuckin' pervert, at least have the guts to admit yr gonna go jerk off thinking about this!"

Balio's steps halted and Sunder had a brief moment to consider if that had really been a good idea, but before his thoughts could get started Balio started walking again, still headed away from him. Well. So that was that.

Sunder sighed and flopped back on the bed, insofar as he could when his arms were tied behind his back and his legs were trussed up in something Balio probably thought was a kinky bondage knot. So, like, he and Balio didn't really talk much, that was true, but it was looking like Balio was actually, like, completely nuts. Sunder blew out an irritated breath. He liked to think of himself as laid-back, okay, but he sure as hell was gonna have to do something about this. What the absolute fuck.

So, Balio had reached such a level of repression and projection that it was pretty hard to discern from complete fucking insanity. And he was tied down to a bed. He was still a little hard; his cock was hanging loose out of his sheath still and slowly growing, even. It was... kind of hard to admit that grinding up against Balio as they fought had been hot, kind of, but more than that it was because he'd been so close to coming before and now he had blue balls and it sucked. And despite Balio's completely unhinged view of the place, it was... unlikely any random passers-by would be overcome with lust and decide to fuck him.

He was probably in for a boring few hours of lazing around until someone actually came by and he could threaten them into untying him. But for the time being, his cock was stiffening of its own will until it was rock hard again. His legs were a little tangled up with rope, and his arms were securely tied behind his back, but with his cock fully hard it came almost up to his chest, the head just barely resting between the base of his heavy pectorals.

He grunted and tried to sit up, not making it very far before the rope pulled taut and stopped him with a jolt. He huffed under his breath as his coat dragged across the tip of his cock, all the little hairs prickling and teasing across his shaft. He groaned and arched back, letting his cock slap against his stomach before curling up again as he tensed his pecs, just barely managing to thrust the first few inches of his cock between them. He shot out a wet spurt of precome across his neck and groaned, closing his eyes as he tried to get a rhythm going.

He thrust his hips back and forth, his cock skidding across his chest just as often as he managed to get it to fuck between his heavy pecs, but no matter which his cock spurted out a low burst of precome, quickly splattering all across his face and shoulders.

He was so caught up in the sensation that he didn't even notice Fahl come in until the half-broken doorway lurched and creaked as he eased his hulking frame through. He sure as hell walked quieter than Balio did, with his broad flat feet. Fahl just looked down at him, tied to the bed, with his eyebrows raised.

"Oh," Sunder said. "Hey." He made to wave, except right, tied to the bed, so really he just wiggled his shoulders at Fahl.

"Hey," Fahl responded, staring down at Sunder. He had a bottle of beer in his hand; he must have followed right behind Balio. His loose toga was back on, but the massive bulge of his cock, half-hard, bulged out obviously. He was definitely still horny, too. Which they both knew, because his cock was sticking up like a flagpole, drizzling precome across his chest now.

It was a good thing Balio was complete shit at knots, or at least complete shit at bondage knots. The coils around his hips and thighs weren't actually doing anything, and all it took was a little wriggling back and forth (his cock swinging back and forth as he did so, achingly hard) before he could slide the rope tangles down to his hooves, and then he could move his legs around however he liked.

The rope pinning his arms back, sadly, was a lot more secure. After all, Balio had strung a lot of people up before, and it was tight and uncomfortable, and there was really no way he could get loose from that.

Fahl had just stared at him as he wiggled around, eyes following his cock, slapping back and forth across his chest as he tried to writhe out of the ropes. His cock was stiffening, pushing out his toga even more overtly, and the fabric near the tip was darkening slowly. It was kind of pathetic, but he really really wanted Fahl to get close enough so that he could start again where he'd left off. He might even be salivating. Fuck, Balio would throw a fit if he knew. As usual.

"Come onnnn," Sunder begged, "Let me suck you off," he said after it became obvious Fahl was just planning on... standing there.

"You don't want me to untie you?" he said, still staring down at Sunder's body.

"Whatever, after," he panted out, aware that his cock was practically spurting out precome again as he fantasized about what was gonna happen real soon. He sat up, or, tried to, and the whole shitty bedframe rocked forward and then back. "I was so fuckin' close to coming; I got blue balls now,"

Fahl snorted out a laugh, but he set down his bottle and knelt on the bed, his huge trapped cock, pungent and musky, right in front of his nose. Sunder strained forward, making little noises as he pressed his nose against the trapped head of his dick. Hell, he could see his balls hanging there, only half-hidden by the rucked-up fabric, but with his arms tied he couldn't lift it up the fraction it would take for him to really start sucking him off again. He pushed his face against one of Fahl's immensely thick thighs and dragged up in an attempt to lift up his toga, but it was heavy with precome and stuck to the shaft of his dick. It almost seemed like Fahl was just gonna stand there and make him really beg for it, but after he made a low frustrated whinny Fahl chuckled and pulled the loose, damp fabric up across his chest with one hand as he cupped the tip of his dick with his other.

"Balio was right about you," Fahl said, Sunder's lips just barely able to feel across his knuckles. "You really are a slut,"

"Don't think I couldn't whip yer ass," Sunder said, voice husky, "but I just like fucking, man, don't make it into a big deal," he continued all in one breath, his voice going wheezy and breathless by the end of his sentence. "Don't make it out like that repressed fuck is the normal one."

Fahl obligingly released his hand and yanked his toga off completely, letting his cock swing out. It slapped against Sunder's face, wet and heavy, but he just moaned against it and curled his lips around the shaft, nuzzling his flesh. Fahl sat back, dragging his dick across Sunder's face and muzzle, until the head was neatly lined up with his gaping-open mouth.

"Come on," Sunder moaned, stretching forward as far as he could, his outwardly-curled lips just barely brushing against the tip of Fahl's dick, occasionally managing to capture a tiny drip of precome. "Come oooon," he repeated, almost whining, "Don't fucking toy with me, just--" he said, and cut off mid-sentence as Fahl shoved his cock into his mouth, his last words coming out as just a wet gurgle.

He got into it fast, bobbing back and forth on Fahl's cock, practically just resuming his earlier blowjob. Fahl smirked down at him and he stared right back up at him, trying his best to relax his throat as he tried to reach forward far enough to get Fahl's dick down his throat.

"Easy there," Fahl said, running a stumpy hand across his cheek. "I don't wanna pop in your mouth. I'm savin' that for your ass." He punctuated his sentence with a slap against Sunder's hip that turned into a caress, digging into the meaty heft of his asscheek.

Sunder pulled off his dick with a wet, disgusting slurp. "You're gotta fuck me?" he asked, pretty much rhetorically. He had said Fahl could fuck him, but... that was before Balio had gone and tied him up.

Fahl seemed to be following his train of thought, though. "Balio'd be upset if he came back and saw your ass was still tight." He slid a hand across Sunder's leg, awkwardly twisting his stocky body until his could press a finger against his asshole. "I'm just making sure," he said, with a smirk.

"Oh, man, don't turn this into some creepy incest-y thing," Sunder said, voice a little muffled with Fahl's cockhead pressing against his teeth. Really, it was far beyond that point, but there was no reason for Fahl to know that. "That might be a struggle with me all tied up," he admitted.

"Too bad," Fahl said. "You had your chance. Maybe I'll untie you after I fuck you." The hard clink of something dragged his attention away from his cock for him to see Fahl grab at the bottle he'd left next to the bed.

"Aw, fuck," Sunder said, practically a moan across the side of Fahl's dick as he started probing into his ass. The beer bottle was full of lube, practically up to the brim, and shit, Fahl was prepared. Fahl brushed the useless tangle of loose rope off his thighs, leaving only the tighter cuffs at the ankle, and hoisted Sunder's legs up. Sunder almost whined as that drew his cock away from his face, the heavy arm-thick length of it settling against his stomach as Fahl knelt at the foot of the bed and worked his fingers deeper into his ass.

Fahl's cock was drooling a slow, steady stream of precome against his own cock, so hard its pink flesh was tinging red near the tip. He ground their cocks together as well as he could with Fahl's cock jutting between his raised thighs and his hooves spread wide. He was pulsing precome freely across his chest in long lines, and he caught of few of them with his lips. Fuck, he had been just about to come back in the bar, and his cock was so hard it hurt. Fahl seemed to know it, too, and he went to great lengths to avoid touching him, aside from his fingers pushing into his slack ass.

"Don't get all fuckin' gentle on me," Sunder growled, thrusting himself down on Fahl's fingers, forcing them all the way inside him with a meaty slap as his ass slammed against Fahl's hand, his entire shaft jolting across his chest. His fingers were thick, and even just three of them stretched him out more than usual, but Fahl's cock was definitely much thicker than that. He didn't really care; he wanted to feel the harsh burn of it when Fahl started fucking him. "Come, on, fuck me already!" he whined as he jerked his hips back and forth, fucking himself roughly on Fahl's fingers.

Fahl raised an eyebrow at him, taking in Sunder's cock spurting precome up across his neck, half of it splattering against his open, gasping mouth. Fahl's own cock rested against Sunder's stomach, thick and solid; his heavy balls rested against Sunder's raised ass. Fahl curled his fingers inside him and tugged back and forth a final time before pulling out with a wet slurp. "You asked for it."

Fahl stepped back, getting half to his feet with his knees braced against the end of the bed, crushing the worn mattress, as his cock bobbed between Sunder's legs, dripping hot, slippery precome across his upturned thighs. Fahl stroked a finger through his matted coat and pushed his precome-slick fingers into Sunder's grasping asshole as he moaned and groaned, lifting his legs as high as he could, shamelessly baring his slick, flushed asshole.

Fahl leaned forward and brought one hand down against the mattress for stability as he aligned his cockhead with Sunder's ass. His massive hand sunk deep into the mattress, folding the entire mattress up slightly and making the shaky framework squeak. The tip of his cock finally pressed against his ass, his cockhead absurdly huge and blunt, and Sunder bucked towards him, his cock slapping painfully against his chest as he tried to force himself open. The first stretch felt like it was gonna rip him apart, but Fahl had fucked him loads of times before, even if it had been a while. Still, he practically howled as Fahl sunk his cock into him, the immensely thick shaft making him work his straining asshole, clenching and opening even wider as Fahl shoved it inside him.

It was almost a disappointment when the crest of his cockhead pushed into him, the jolt of sensation through his stretched asshole as the broad flare pushed through and slid deeper inside him. The rest of his cock was immense, thick, but Fahl sunk into him steadily until half of his much more than arm-thick cock was lodged inside him. He could vaguely feel the blunt round head inside him, knocking against his ass, as Fahl pushed harder, trying to sink the rest inside him.

Precome dripped from his ass, around his cock, slurping wetly as Fahl rocked back and forth, his shaft emerging slick with lube and precome. It ran down along the crack of his ass, wedged open with Fahl's huge hands pulling his ass cheeks apart, and formed a damp splotch on the mattress. Enough spilled out as he began to really thrust that the mattress squelched wetly with each thrust. Sunder's entire body jerked and thumped up and down as Fahl thrust into him, grinding back and forth against the rapidly dampening mattress below.

Fahl grunted, panting already-- he hadn't been too far off before, either-- as he thrust almost the rest of his cock into Sunder. His cockhead slammed against the walls of his ass until it slid with a lurch into his guts; Fahl almost fell forwards as his cock hammered into him, hilted almost entirely with Fahl's huge thighs grinding against his ass.

Sunder threw back his head and neighed, a long drawn-out hiccuping whinny. His cock lurched, so incredibly close to coming he could feel his cock spasm and twitch, the steady flow of precome slowing as he got close to blowing his load. Fahl felt it too, the reflexive clench of his asshole, adding more friction to his thrusts. Sunder vainly struggled against the ropes binding his arms, wanting desperately to take hold of his cock and stroke it the once, twice it would take to bring him off. Hell, he even tried curling forward again, his cock fucking against his stomach and barely sliding back and forth through his heavy pecs, but the ropes tying him to the mattress were just tight enough to bring him up short, close enough to get a face-full of precome when another blast gushed out but not close enough to suck himself off.

Fahl chuckled as Sunder writhed, his cock slapping across his chest as he started spurting precome more heavily again, his orgasm slowly retreating as Fahl started thrusting slower, more carefully, keeping his hands anchored around Sunder's hips. He stabbed his cock deep, Sunder's cock still spurting wet, trickling lines of precome all across his chest and face, and thrust back and forth, huffing and panting as his cock started twitching. He finally slammed into Sunder with a final hard thrust, hilting himself just as he started coming, spilling deep inside Sunder.

Fahl kept thrusting, rocking back and forth as he came, until his heavy, thick come started leaking out of Sunder's ass, coating his already matted fur and spiking it up. He pulled out slowly, heavy slugs of come slipping out alongside his cock until, finally, his cockhead tugged at the red, bruised lips of his ass and pulled out with a wet slurp followed by a massive gush of come, oozing out from Sunder's asshole, still flexed wide open as Fahl sunk back, huffing.

"C-C'mon, man!" Sunder said, pleading. "You can't just leave me like this!" He arched his back again, trying to fuck his cock through his tensed pecs, and Fahl gave a tired chuckle.

"You got your chance." Fahl staggered back, panting heavily as his cock still drizzled come, each little spurt enough to spray heavy lines across the floor and mattress, some reaching as far as Sunder's legs. "I would'a untied you if that's what you asked for first, but..." Fahl huffed and shrugged, a relaxed grin on his face.

It was easy for him to be all easy-going after he got to come, Sunder thought. Fahl's come was a weight up in his guts, and his asshole was still gaping open, come slowly drooling out of it. Even just the smell of it, heavy and thick, pervading the entire room, send his cock throbbing. He was so fucking close to coming, and his entire cock was tinged a darker red, his balls pull up taut against the base of his sheath. But still he could feel it slowly ebb away now that Fahl had pulled out, and grinding his cock against his chest hurt just as much as it felt good.

"Fuck you, fuckin' untie me!" he yelled, and Fahl just laughed.

"Don't worry about it, I'm sure someone'll be around eventually to untie you. I figure I oughtta spread the word, let everyone know what's for the taking here." Fahl turned and left, but not before he knelt down and jabbed three fingers into his ass, come burbing out around them as he worked at Sunder's slack, open ass as a parting shot.