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"No! Not here!" Blake protested as he struggled to break free of my arms. Not much chance of that, unfortunately. Being a wolf I had just enough strength over him to keep him steady and restrained.

"No one's going to see." I responded, giving him a squeeze for emphasis. This was going to happen whether he wanted it to or not. Not to say he didn't really want it, going by the firmness under my paw.

"This is my parent's house!" He barked.

"I know, and isn't this hot?" My tongue started to lap at his left ear. And it was hot. His parent's house, his old room, me here to meet said parents for the first time, and now me grinding behind him with my hands down his pants.

"This isn't sa-hafe!" At that point any further argument he might have mounted dissolved into squeaks, because I just put my tongue down his ear, setting his tail into frantic wagging.

With his tongue now too occupied with violent panting for verbal protest, I could indulge in my customary game of Connect the Dots using the black spots on the white canvas of his fur. It was a habit I decided to cultivate since getting together with the Dalmatian. This particularly little game of Connect the Dots always ended the same way, with an arrow pointing down.

His black-tipped tail was going ballistic on me now and I wanted him on the bed before I went any further, so I started to lean forward gently so my weight would guide him down.

Blake, bless him, was actually trying to fight it by keeping his legs straight. Fortunately one of the many talents I'd cultured is being able to make my Dalmatians knees literally go weak by giving the slightest of nuzzles on that one spot, on the back of his neck. Right... there.

"Mmph." And down he went, like clockwork. I thought he murmured something along the lines of "Not fair" but I was long past caring. It was annoying to have my glasses pressed against my face and his back when we slumped forward, but I digress.

Rolling him over to face me proved a more difficult challenge, and Blake appeared to be committed to the path of a nonviolent resistance, but I still managed. That just left the tantalizing job of freeing that erection of his that I was fingering. I was of course positively throbbing my this point, but one of the things I liked about doing this with to Blake was the buildup from taking care of him and then relieving myself latter. Usually it was all over his back soon after, but in this case I could wait till we got home...or the car, whichever works.

I kept my muzzle near his right ear so I could breath and half-whisper sweet nothings, slowing his tail from frantic wagging to a slow rhythmic wave. My right hand, meanwhile, kept itself occupied by giving him firm rubs through his genes, while my left hand took on the challenge of his belt and zipper, conquering them with ease. By now I'd already coaxed him out of his sheath judging by the outline against his satin boxers, and before long I'd removed even that final layer between us.

I began running my pads up and down his swollen pink shaft without any of the agency that our surroundings might have warranted. Perhaps he was expecting this to be over quick and was now reasserting the risk involved in his own mind, because he voiced further protest. "They'll be able to smell it on us! Stop it!" And that's as far as he got before I stuck my tongue down his throat and tried valiantly to reach his tonsils.

Blake's tail was thumping the bed something fierce now, so this was clearly not hurting him. When I broke the kiss I had already set a steady pace of beating him off and all pretense of resistance was long gone. Before long he was making those adorable not-quite-a-moan-more-of-a-squeak sounds he made when he was really excited, and I was learning down to breathing hot and heavy on the head of his shaft.

He somehow got coherent enough to speak, and his tail lulled for a moment. "Len?" he begged, but at that point I'm not sure if he was begging me to stop or keep going. Maybe he didn't even know which, but either way I took it as incentive and slipped his tip past my lips and to the back of my throat.

His tail might just have been trying to jump off his body at this stage because it went off like a firecracker. My dalmatian tasted great. That's probably a really sick thing to say, but it's true dammit! His cock, his tongue, even his spit was sweet.

Reflecting on it, I hope that's a symptom of much I'm into him, and not a general obsession with other people's bodily fluids. I would have liked to have savored him, and perhaps play with the flagging shaft in my pants currently leaking a small pool on my underwear, but in this case, time was of the essence. We were in his parent's house after all.

I kept my tongue lapping at that spot just at the head of his knot, which I squeezing the ever-loving hell out of in after every third or fourth stroke. I'm not going to lie. Keeping things steady and controlled was hard. But it usually ended more satisfying for both of us this way. Besides I was half distracted by our current surroundings.

Now normally when I'm blowing Blake he commands my full attention, but in this particular room the background has something almost as interesting to offer. From my crouched position I inspected trophies, books, and mountains of half-finished arts-and-crafts projects. It made me think of a smiling Dalmatian boy with seemingly boundless energy, the kind of kid who makes finger paintings for his Mum and then gets the pain all over his face. Remnants of my pup's life before me, before manhood. Long before it would have been halfway appro...legal for me to do what I was doing right now. It was sort of like looking through a window into the past of the adult now sitting on the bed in front of me. The fact that I was now further desecrating his innocence in his childhood bedroom, which his parents had painstakingly preserved as a shrine to the child he once was, and with them expecting us for lunch two rooms over, actually turned gears I probably shouldn't even have.

I wonder at what point it goes from being dirty to just plain creep-

"Ngh, Ngh!" Blake's whole body seized, his knot swelled, his penis twitched and then my Dalmatian started spraying the back of my throat, while I drank every last drop of him down. He was normally louder, but in this case he was probably trying to keep quiet. We were, again, in his parent's house after all.

He looked down at me with what I can only describe as the face of a sore-but-very-satisfied-loser.

"Well smart guy," he said, "what now?"

Sex permeated the room, his pants, and my breath at this stage. By way of answer I reached into my pocket and handed him the little bottle I retrieved.

"NeutraScent?" His tone was surprised and a little bit angry. I nodded, and gave my best shit-eating wolf grin. Blake got up very quickly and fumbled to do up his pants with one hand still clutching the bottle. Halfway done, he remembered he had to actually use it, dropped his pants again and lathered himself with the sparkling gel. "If you had told me you had this, I would have saved me a lot of worry."

"Mmm." I was really enjoying this show, but abstained from letting my hands wander. "You still would have resisted, so what'd been the point?"

"I might have resisted less."

"Exactly. Less fun for me." He shot me a look as he did up his zip.

"You're a fiend, you know that?"

"And a jerk." I added, but I could see he wasn't really angry now. Hard to be angry after having something that stress relieving happen to you in the comfort of your own bedroom after all.

"What about the rest of the room?" He asked. Indeed, his sweet musk still hung in the air around us, and the bottle I'd given him was for personal use only. Fortunately I came very prepared. I reached into my other coat pocket and gave a few sprits around me, the bed, and one at my own groin. My little friend was just going to have to wait. "Really? Spray and gel?" Blake's eyes went wide. "Did you- did you plan on this?"

I beamed. "Not hear specifically. I like to carry some around with me whenever I know I'm going to meet you. Just in case."

Blake deadpanned, "I'm not sure if I'm okay with that."

"What can I say? I just can't help myself around you. You're my kryptonite." He gave me another look, somewhat softened.

"That's almost sweet." He padded over slowly and handed me the bottle. "Next time maybe discuss your plans with me before springing them on me. Particularly if they're plans that involve me, and particularly when, if I'm going to object to them there's probably a good reason for me to object."

"But this seems so much more artful." I said as I pocketed both spray and gel.

"I'm serious." And he was.

Sigh. "All right. For you."

"Good." He half turned and held out his hand expectantly for mine. "Ready?" I was, so I took his hands in my own, and that set his tail wagging at a contented pace.

In spite of ourselves, or rather in spite of me, we walked out of Blake's old room calm and composed to sit to lunch with his parents. Too bad it didn't stay that way. The walk two doors down the door was short, but still long enough for me to have the dreaded hindsight.

What was I thinking going down on him now? Was I insane? How was I going to face these people knowing what I just did under their roof-

Blake's tail flicks across to mine. The contact is brief, and fairly casual but when I turn to look at him he's smiling back at me, and it's what I need. We can do this. I smile back I can do this. Three steps latter we enter the dining room.

"Ah, boys." Mrs. Arden chimed as she set down the last of the plates, "Enjoy the tour?" Blake was wooden, but you wouldn't know unless you were looking for it. I however, could see how he was forcing that casual smile, and trying very hard not to do or say anything that might suggest that, oh say, his boyfriend had just sucked him off on his childhood bed with his parent's home. I decided to throw him a bone.

"Oh yes. It was nice to see Blake's old room. I was surprised to see so many arts-and-crafts things." Blake's ears puckered. "I was less surprised to see so few of them finished." Both parents chuckled softly, and Blake shot me glance. Eventually it clicked that I'd spared him the trouble of having to answer himself, and his eyes silently thanked me.

"Shall we eat?" Mr. Arden suggested and then the family, plus me, sat down to Sunday lunch. Given Blake's fondness for curry I was expecting a spicy dish. Instead there was, in addition to bread, an assortment of fresh fruits, croissants, and premium Italian ham and cheese. Plus some Mediterranean concoction of olives and tomato that Mrs. Arden smeared on a slice of crunchy bread before pacing the plate to her son.

"So, Lenonard?" Mrs. Arden started, "tell us about yourself."

I finished plating myself some of the tomato_ee_ slop before trying to answer. "Well, I'm an Honours student at the ANU. I work part time. I like to read."

"What are you studying?" Mr Arden prodded, not rudely, but I thought I detected a tiny bit more of a cold tone than his wife. I made a mental note that it was probably because I was, presumably, fucking his son. And I took smug satisfaction with that observation.

"Science. I'm with the Research School of Biology." That got his tone to pick up.

"So what are you planning to be?"

My next answer would probably be less well received. "I'm not quite sure at his stage. This year is really more me testing the waters of research. I tossed around the idea of joining a consultancy firm, or there is a Physio Master's at the University of Canberra."

"That's a pretty big range." Mr. Arden said quizzically. I shrugged

"I liked my semester of anatomy and physio has good job security. The particular consultancy firm I'm looking at is more design focused, so it would be more of a problem-solving based career."

From the way his ears perked as he turned back to his plate I guessed I'd passed Dad's test for now.

"What type of Biology?" Mrs. Arden asked bringing her slice to her lips once again. Ah, here's the rub. "It's sort of a genetics thing. I'm trying to prove the existence of some very unusual proteins that have been predicted by a previous students meta-study of the gene databases."

"That's interesting." She said, not quite convincingly. The problem with being a budding Scientist is that A) few people understand the finer details of what you're talking about and B) fewer people actually care. "How did the two of you meet?" She continued after finishing a crunchy mouthful.

Blake beat me to it. "The LGBT club at Uni." Then he sunk his teeth into another mouthful of croissant.

"Was it love at first sight?" Mrs. Arden was apparently a hopeless romantic.

This time I answered before Blake could finish, "Not really. We'd seen each other at the meetings a few times. It turned out we liked a few of the same things. Eventually we started hanging out outside of the meetings as friends and then it went on from there."

"So how long before it became dating?" Mr. Arden seemed genuinely curious now. "I mean, who asked who first?"

Blake went still and suddenly found his plate of food fascinating. "I asked him," he said to his food.

His parents were clearly not expecting that. "Really?"

"Well, when we meet I was quite a bit shy." I explained while staring fixedly at the most interesting rock melon in the world, very pointedly not adding that I was now confident enough to suck someone off in their parent's house at lunch.

"Well. I'd say Blake has had a good influence on you then." Mrs. Arden praised as she helped herself to a croissant and cheese. "You seem confident."

"Thank you." I replied, turning just in time to catch Blake giving a look that, for me, translated as: "You have no idea."

The rest of the lunch went exceedingly well. His parents didn't disown him, or threaten to have me arrested for violating their son which, to be honest, they would have been well within their rights to do. To sooth my guilt somewhat, I of course helped to clear the table and wash the dishes. Everything the perfect gentlemen of a guest should do. I parted with a handshake and a check kiss (his father and mother respectively, of course!) while Blake parted with a hug and a hug kiss (same order!). And then we were alone in the car.

I considered doing something about my shaft, currently receded into its sheath, but swimming in the excitement from Blake's room, but thought better of it. Beating off in front of their house might have tainted their impression of me.

It wasn't until we were about halfway home before Blake spoke. "Sometimes I can't believe you're the same person I meet three months ago." My ears flicked down.

"How come? Is that bad?" "Well. To start with you would have never gone down on me like THAT before. Not...bad, just... surprising. Sometimes I wonder if I've created a monster." "Aww." I chuckled at that, and decided to go for the truth rather than let him shoulder the blame. "You didn't create a monster. I've always been like this. You just gave me someone to divert it to. You make me feel okay to be a perv."

"Gee thanks."

"I mean... before you I would imagine relationships, at least my relationships being like this. Where I could do things to make them feel good and there'd be a childish playfulness to the fun. Where I'd always be hungry for more of them. That's what you do for me. You make me feel like it's okay want to touch someone all the time, to want to make them feel good all the time."

From the corner of my eye I saw him turn to look at me, "There you go again, saying something that's incredibly sweet but at the same time...kind'a creepy."

I half-smiled at him, "Is that bad?" I asked.

He returned his gaze to the road, and moved to rest his knees on the dashboard. "I haven't decided yet." Then he put one paw on my leg and the other on his groin. "But your most recent reviews have been very positive."

My muzzle twitched into a grin, and in the corner of the rear-view mirror, I saw my expression creep onto his muzzle too.

Connect the Dots tonight was going to be fun.