Just One More Time
#24 of Bent Over Behind the Barracks
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Well, just a little something.
That's what I like calling them. *chuckle*
Do tell me how you liked it!
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We walked voicelessly into the house, making no noise but the rough sounds of our ragged breathing, still fast from our arguing, our fighting, the whole physical madness of it all, our shaky souls, indeed, perhaps, trembling.
We were in the kitchen, and Brock froze on the doorway into the living room, paw resting against the peeling paint of the frame. His sleek shoulders were arched upwards, tense, tight...as was the curve of his muzzle, looking down into the floor.
"What is it?" I breathed.
He grunted and walked into the empty living room, followed by me. I gave a look for the door into the bedroom, and he caught me doing that, and shook his head.
"Not there," he barked.
My ears jerked back and forth at the noise, and so did his, maybe in a natural response to mine.
"Okay," I said.
He stared at the broken couch, at the dirty windows, his paws clenching into fists and relaxing again. He sounded like he was in pain...at least that's what it made me think, even though I knew I hadn't hurt him, at least not physically, I thought. His chest was full of grumbles, and he just stood there in place, growling and huffing.
Then his paws went for his belt.
"Once more, then," he said.
He dropped his pants and stepped out of them, underwear, everything, shirtless to begin with, no shoes, leaving me with the sight of his naked backside, slightly bent over and tight and tense and trained, and I felt a rush of arousal despite me awful misgivings about this entire situation, about him, and about...
Brock turned around and groped his sheath, briefly, coaxing it to swell. I could feel similar things happening inside my own pants, against my best judgment or not. My body betrayed my and did what my mind was telling me not to do. Brock was dangerous. He wasn't stable. He wasn't good for me.
He was especially bad for himself.
Brock let out a grunt.
"Come on and suck it," he said. "Make it hard."
He was grabbing his sheath and pulling it back, showing the red tip, but he wasn't really hard, maybe getting there, but with difficulty. I knew very well what it tasted like, smelled like, and felt...in my muzzle...
"You can't tell me to do anything, Brock," I told him, sternly, my ears flattening again. "Those days are over now. I ain't a toy for you."
He pulled on himself again, making the skin tight, rolling his big balls in his palm. He hissed out, in pleasure, perhaps in frustration, and then let go of his cock. His paw was raised and he gestured at me with a curled finger.
"Come on and suck it hard."
"No."
He snorted, baring his teeth, and growled.
"I thought you wanted to fuck," Brock sneered.
My body wanted it inside me, and I wanted to be inside him, but my terribly confused mind was still trying to shout me to not to and pray for God's forgiveness over this whole mess.
"Only if you won't treat me like a bitch," I responded, my flighty muzzle speaking the things that my mind was screaming me not to.
He harrumphed.
"I know you like it," he sounded dangerous. "You beg for it."
"You didn't give me a choice," I responded. "And I've learned."
"The way your asshole opens up for me tells me that you just can't help but beg for it," Brock drawled, seemingly uncaring for what I had just said, "whimpering, panting - "
I stopped his ramblings with a bark of my own, and made record time tossing my remaining clothes away, so that now both of us were standing there, alright, two big mean ass Dobie grunts, muscled and sweaty and with a bad temper staring at one another. My erection was big and huge, straining desperately, Brock's....getting there, but not at full mast like mine.
"Who's the stud now?" I pointed angrily at my own big hard doggie cock, "yeah? YEAH?"
Brock's eyes flashed as he took in the sight of me, and his paws became fists once more.
"You want to do it, you have to come and get it," he grumbled. "Either way."
"No" I replied in a deep growl, letting him see that I was serious, with my posture, my eyes, my voice, everything, my cock point out like a gun barrel at him. "I ain't getting into anything like that now, Brock. It ain't right."
Brock waved his paw and chuckled.
"This ain't right to begin with," he snorted.
"Let me tell you what ain't right," I pointed at him, knowing that he'd be pissed off by such a gesture...and he did, sneering at the sight of me standing there like that, attacking him, "what ain't right you messing around with my mind and coming telling me stupid things like you wanting me to hurt you or something. I ain't gonna hurt you."
"I don't care if you do," he grunted.
I stepped closer, slowly, certain parts of me swinging while I approached him. The tension in his body grew with my proximity, his ears flicking back and forth rapidly. His breath was practically foaming.
"Well I ain't gonna," I said.
"You ain't gonna do what?" he challenged.
"I ain't gonna throw you over that couch and cornhole your ass to high hell," I pointed at the half-collapsed thing and snorted, "It ain't have to be like that."
"What the fuck you mean then?" he growled unhappily. "Shall we go to the movies first? Do I have to bring you flowers and silk stockings to get you to be sweet on me before I ram my fucking dick into your stinking ass?"
"Just cut the crap!" I snapped, and my paw moved...taking hold of his wrist.
Brock barked and tried to pull his paw off, but I held fast, staring him down as I lifted his paw, up, still in my firm grip.
"Like this," I rumbled.
He looked at me derisively while I lifted his paw up and licked his palm, quickly, tasting a bit of blood and steel and grime and sweat. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but it was musky, and it was his scent. He'd handled his dick before, too, and there was a hint of that, too.
"What the hell are you doing?"
I pressed his paw against my chest, and put my other paw over it, to set his paw over my pectoral muscle, my nipple hard against his palm. The touch felt good, and I let out a rumble at the sensation, and felt my eyes close a bit, briefly, before I opened them again. He could feel my rumbling breaths. He could feel my heart thumping.
"We ain't have to tear each other apart," I whispered, because it felt the right way to speak such a thing.
Hs fingers clenched and pressed onto my flesh, and his ears, while staying flat, perked a little, at least briefly. his breathing was loud and quick still.
"Don't tear yourself apart," I said. "I don't like looking at it."
"What do you care?" he snorted.
"I shouldn't," I replied.
He looked at me for the longest moment. His other paw landed on my shoulder, squeezing on it, but not painfully...not like he was holding me down. It was just there.
"Don't," he said.
He leaned close to me, so that our breathing brushed our muzzles, and his big, wet tongue came out and covered my lips. It made them wet and tingling, and I rumbled, trying to catch it with my own tongue.
I wasn't kidding anyone, though, we were horny as hell, and once our muzzles pressed together, our paws started to move, too, and so did our bodies, quickly. We were naked to begin with...we stood there belly to belly, groping asses and backs and squeezing on arms and licking and yapping and tasting.
Nobody could have described it as gentle. We rubbed each other firmly, feeling muscles, bodies that had been honed by drill instructors with the purpose of making us withstand extreme physical stresses while performing our primary purpose of maiming, killing and destroying. It meant we were trim, really, only growing into it...only a year or two ago we were just boys. Maybe we still were, underneath all this Army shit.
I was kissing a boy. A man. Brock. This was the business of things they warned you against at school, of those queer men who preyed on impressionable youth for their vices.
I had my tongue thrust into his muzzle and he was sucking on it like a straw, a true vice, if any. His fingers tugged on the stub of my tail, and maybe it was his thumb that was rubbing in the crack underneath it. The sensation almost made me whimper into his maw...our hard dicks pressed so firmly together between our tense shuddering bodies. His fingers were trying to seduce me into buggery again, perhaps, and I knew that I would let him, eventually.
I put my paw between our bodies and took both of us into my grip, stroking us slowly while we continued to keep our muzzles together like that, tongues moving while we hissed into the touch.
"I'll suck you," I told him. "I'll lick you. I'll make you feel good."
He didn't say anything, though the expression on his muzzle was somewhat smug, and perhaps rightfully so, when I got onto my knees, paws stroking over his torso. I settled onto the old, smooth wooden boards and faced the dark length of his shaft. My paws rubbed his thighs, and I felt the strong muscles there flex under my touch, too. He rumbled, and his dick jumped...excited. The tip was glistening, even in whatever light we got there, and it wasn't much.
I grabbed the base to push him down, to get my tongue over and around the tip. He grumbled and flexed his hips again, but I gave him a warning press on his belly with my paw.
"I'll go slowly," I told him.
I began to lick his tip, wetting it with my spit while he just stood there and I made him stay still and not to hump my muzzle like a mad mutt. I only let him have what I would give him, now, and if he didn't behave, I might as well stop.
I tugged and played with his balls while I began to take him into my muzzle, licking and slurping on it, making some noise that made my ears burn. He tasted salty and fleshy, warm, kind of spongy when I tried sucking on it, which was never easy with your teeth. Kissing and licking it slowly, I rubbed whatever wasn't in my muzzle with my paw, squeezing and milking it as well as my lips did.
He was breathing so hard when I finally stopped.
"Turn around," I said.
He growled quietly, but accepted, perhaps grudgingly. He'd made me do this to him before, and I knew that it made him make all sorts of noises he probably didn't want to confess to in any other situation.
I rubbed his ass, wordlessly admiring the firmness and the shape of his muscles, stroking them and pulling them apart and sniffing loudly at his musk. Glad that there was nothing too unsavoury to be detected, I leaned closer and nuzzled him, kissed each buttock, and let my tongue rake through his valley.
I could feel him tense, my paws resting on his hips, so that I could feel the quiver my tongue made. The hair he had there made my tongue tickle, but I didn't mind too much. I just kept going at it, making things wet and coursing towards his secret tailhole.
I licked him there, too, making him growl and grumble and those muscles he only rarely let me touch flexed and pulsed, almost like a counterpoint to his big cock.
With a sudden impulse of inspiration, I grabbed him and stroked him, slowly, while I kept licking, my fingers flowing from his tip to the knot on the base and then back again, all the time while I gnawed and tongued his hole with all I had, my breaths coming as hot huffs down his crevice.
"HHhhnnnngghh....hhmmmmmhhhh..."
I went at it for a long time, until everything was wet. He throbbed in my paw, and eventually I had to let go for the fear of things ending too quickly.
I licked along his spine, as long as I could, but somewhere between his shoulderblades my tongue was simply too dry and I had to stop, and make a face. I coughed, and he glanced at me, half-crouched for the moment, and then I was standing behind him, my hard cock slipping into his crack and poking onto his tail. He tensed and grumbled, but kept looking at me, while I tentatively put my arms around his waist.
"Don't have to hurt," I said. "Don't have to fight."
He snorted, and his muscles rolled with tension, but he didn't push me away.
"S'pose you expect to do it now huh?" he breathed.
I sucked on my own tongue a bit to make it wet again, so that I could lick the edge of his ear, making it flick quickly. I squeezed him harder, but didn't make it a suffocating feeling. I just wanted to feel more of him.
"Can I?" I asked.
"You seem to have decided you will, wuff," he said, "you want to stick it in me and fuck me."
I poked him with my...poker...and licked the side of his muzzle, staying there so that we were almost cheek to cheek.
"I'll do it slow," I told him, "you'll enjoy it."
Poke.
"Don't play with me, wuff," he said, "you might not be able to handle me."
"Let's walk over to the touch," I said, "put your paws on the back."
He chuckled, snorted...flicked an ear.
"So that's what you've been hankering all this time huh?" he sounded challenging again.
"I don't want to do it on the floor," I said.
To my surprise, he obliged, and we shuffled together, joined at the hip, until he put his paws on the backrest of the couch in his parents' former living room and arched his back so that...so that I knew what I could do.
I put my paws on his hips, taking a steady grip.
"You gonna treat me well, wuff?" he questioned, not looking at me...head hung, instead.
"You bet," I whispered.
It was a bit of a fight, but our bodies did manage to jam together, with a lot of huffing, grunting, and ever-tightening heat growing while I slipped into his little-used hole. Brock's head was low and his entire body was tense, but he was not fighting it, and he was letting me lean over him, to pant over his neck...resisting the urge to bite. I throbbed inside him, and his insides pumped me, as if he was trying to get it out...or to keep it in, I was not sure which.
I moved as slowly as I knew how to, going back and forth tip to knot and again, burrowing into him and pulling out, until my hips touched his.
"Doesn't have to hurt," I whispered, as I slowly picked up speed.
His tongue was lolling out of his muzzle, and so was mine, drooling against his neck while I took him standing up. It was almost like the first time we ever did this, almost though nobody was tied down, and we didn't have to be on the lookout for the night guards.
Not that we were thinking back then, I thought, trying not to bite my teeth together while I thrust into him with a quickening speed, my patience waning as the intensity of our mating grew.
Our grunts were loud when I slipped into him all the way and I couldn't hold it for more than a few back and forth strokes before it was over, and I jerked, and pumped and spent into him, collapsing on his back afterwards, gripping pawfuls of his fur and skin until I realized what I was doing, and let go, bringing some growls from Brock.
"That good enough for the road?" I asked once I'd caught my breath.
He grumbled.
"I'll make sure you'll regret having to sit down for the trip," the one speared on my lap responded.
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Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it, and I look forward to your comments!