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Trends nowadays have shifted in larger and more expansive territory than Dexter's younger years. Back then it was about the X-Men, now it's about the Avengers. In his younger years, it used to be trilogies, and now it's a series that builds up to larger projects. Same goes for food where it used to be burger this, poutine that. Now it's all about kimchi or shawarma, or sushi. Hell, even music. The radio used to play classics like Elvis or Sinastra, especially the latter's 'Another One Bites The Dust'. Truth be told though, he didn't expect to like something from this pop artist as the music he makes often finds itself in dance clubs. Too bad there's none that cater to his tastes. Glowsticks, sneakers, LED lights, or all three combined? That's preposterous.

After all, you can't teach…

[b]Old Dogs, New Thangs[/b]

"What's that?" Dexter points at a camera that's attached to a pivot. Something he's not seen outside of the military world, but the product has existed since 2002 apparently. He's in a department store in the middle of a weekday. He's currently stationed at home spending his supposed weekend today. Withhis son at school he's got more leeway on what he wants to do.

Normally his arm would've been tugged by now, Miles yapping at his ear to go to the toy store and buy another action figure. But it's about time he's gotten back to clothes shopping. Except he sees something behind a glass counter that's normally in the military.

"It's a Go-Pro," the salesman, a peacock, unhooks the metal lock clamping the glass door shut. He slides it open and presents the camera that can latch itself onto helmets or headstraps. "So you can watch things back, HD, slo-mo."

Dexter sets down his shopping basket full of t-shirts, underwears, and speedos. He takes the device to his hands and examines its stand– sturdy, and can extend an inch past his head. "Can I put this on a motorcycle helmet?"

"The package comes with a mount-strap that you can tie onto your helmet tight enough that it won't even sway." He spreads his tail in excitement, this display normally inspires characters to buy it.

But Dexter has something else in mind, and he has been needing a new camera. "Can I use it as a stand alone camera?"

The peacock receives it back and screws it off its stand. The camera is far smaller than his submersible one and somehow takes higher quality photos and videos. "It's also waterproof, altitude proof."

"What does that mean?"

"You can take it skydiving or hiking Mount Everest with no issue whatsoever. Certified too." He swaps the camera for the box it comes in, extracting its manual, showing a print of the Mount Everest certification just below its title. And that's gotten his prospect's tail wagging, further sealing in the deal.

"I'll take it," Dexter picks his basket up.

"I'm happy for your purchase," the peacock closes his deal. He repackages the wolf's new camera but not before showing the contents that comes along with it. The aforementioned strap, the stand, extra batteries, an SD card holder without the card itself, the manual, a square microfiber cloth, and a discount coupon for other products.

Dexter adds it to his basket, leaving behind a satisfied salesman while he himself looks forward to a future night with his new camera. Afterwards, he scurries around the department store for anything else he'll need to buy now without his son having to nag at him. Added to the basket are some cologne, new combs, fur gel, and shampoo. That last one is a recommendation from his best friend– makes his fur smooth and scented with coconut and bananas. Clearly a tease at his prior tropical getaway where he planted his 'seed' in some Polynesian jungle.

He still chuckles at the memory, wondering when he'll have the opportunity again. But that will be a really long while. Once he's gathered all the grown-up stuff, he goes to the cashier and pays for it. Enjoys himself a lunch at a non-fast food restaurant; a sit-down American diner where he enjoys himself a fine burger, some fries, and soda to go along.

The ambiance of this establishment lives up to the culture it embodies. Retro in design, greasy smell with an exaggerated artificial freshener to try and overlap it, checkered tiles, a milkshake bar, and even a jukebox. What catches him off guard is that it plays modern-day songs. Customers can switch it for 1 CAD. There's a flamboyant gentlefox in short shorts and a sleeveless shirt coming up to it and switching the song. He struts away shaking his ass before going back to his laughing boyfriend.

First the drums and what sounded like a crowd, mixed with an electronic and rhythmic beat that leads into vulgar and sexual lyrics towards women. His first thought of it is the disbelief that this is what the youth pass off as pop music nowadays. He lets out a sigh as he sips the soda. But then the saxophones happen. A repetitive melody of the saxophone going crazy, despite the rest of the song. It continues into the second stanza, but hearing the saxophone notes jump in now and then keeps his tail wagging.

Dexter sees himself dancing to this song, especially with the lyrics: 'Get sexy, Dex, get sexy; get sexy, Dex, get sexy.' Those aren't the actual lyrics but it's what he wants to hear. What's this song, he wonders. He wants to stand up and check the jukebox but it'll look weird for a man in his 30s to wonder about a pop song of picking up ladies from a club. He blushes, closes his eyes and pretends to contemplate the meal he's eaten. Focuses on the lyrics instead, perhaps finding the title among its lyrics. Could it be 'Get Sexy, Girl'? 'Clap, Clap, Clap'? 'New Thang'? He'll have to remember them for now.

He glances at the fox who placed the song, maybe he could overhear them talking about it. Sitting with his boyfriend it seems– contrasting personalities. They're holding hands and exchanging flirts, and his partner's a raccoon in a thick hoodie at the tail-end of spring. But no, they don't talk about the song at all, just the food.

After having listened to the whole song, he finishes his food with its flavor enhanced by the upbeat attitude he's experiencing. The original lyrics could use a change though because it does not reflect his own sense of self. He pays his bills, takes his store-bought items, and drives home under a warm summer dusk. And while in the car he switches from station to station trying to find that song. He switches to one of the pop stations at 96.9

"Good evening to the East, and good afternoon to the west! This is Smooch FM coming with you live from Alberta! We bring you the most poppin' boppin' beats! And today, for the third time, we are bringing you a new song from Cali, it's 'New Thang' by Redfoo!"

Dexter's ears perk up, a smile across his face, visible through the rays of a descending sun. It starts off with the vulgar lyrics that he's warming up to, the electronic drums making him tap to their beat on his steering wheel. And once the saxophones come, he drives faster without breaking the speed limit along the scenic route. Driving past trees and the vistas behind them, continuing onto his homebase in rural Langley. It ends the moment he takes the branching road leading to it, turning off the radio as it switches over to another song that doesn't appeal to him anymore.

It occurs to him that given the subject matter of this type of music– Miles won't hear about it. He doesn't want to raise a womanizer, or a hard core party-rocker of sorts. He's seen their type of people, often vandals and miscreants. It'll affect his future as well as his own career if he's grown up to be a delinquent.

His headlights shine the rotonda just before the fortress' walls with its tall spotlights illuminating the surrounding area. Dexter greets the deer guard at the gate, presenting his ID, and being let in. He parks next to his apartment, and goes up bringing with him his newly-bought belongings.

Stepping through the apartment doors, he can't help but feel bummed out that he's not at home right now with Miles. Work calls soon after in the morning and his presence is required here despite his plea for a proper leave. Can't argue against the system though, shedding off the thought as he goes up the elevator.

But he's not going to ruin his night with such a setback. Dexter goes into his room and turns the bedroom light on, drawing all the curtains in for his own privacy. He's made sure that the doors are locked, and that his outfit for the evening is sprawled on his bed; a wood-camo thong, and a latex wolf-mask.

Dexter stands naked with the mirror behind him, and his apparel choice in front of the sheets, while searching for the song on the internet. He wants one that's just the lyrics as he's not too fond of videos that skimp out on the song for unnecessary filler. His style is more straightforward, like his shaft as he finds the song. Gives it a listen at first, his dick bouncing during the saxophone's notes, and he oomphs his hips forward as it nears its climax. Pre dribbles down from his tip and stains the bed and his speedos.

The big black wolf dons it, except he can barely make it fit– the nylon fabric is stretched outward, tenting with an exposed girthy pole that oozes more at its tip. He lets it twitch, delighting at the sight of his own masculinity. But it's getting too uncomfortable, and he's not going to tear apart a new pair of these. Not yet at least. He lets his massive dick peek out from his left leg hole, hugging against his leg, pre glistening against the light as it stained his fur too. Next comes the mask that is a snug and comfortable fit for him. Very fine latex that bounces the little light his room had, as well as the fine scent of his sweat and musk that radiates off of him like a perfume. There should be a service that retails scents in the future, procure some of his own so he alone could use it.

Being in his room, despite having one mirror, is not enough to bring out his friskier side. He misses them though, having his stature praised as his muscles are caressed by his selves. All he has is this lone reflection, stuck behind the glass, reaching out to touch the other Dexter behind an invisible barrier.

"Don't worry, Sexy Dexy," his other self says to him, wiggling his dick side to side. "We'll meet again in person," breaking the laws of physics to deviate from the copy-image, kissing the invisible wall. And he assumes his position once more, mimicking the real deal.

"We will," Dexter says to his other self, mouthing the same words. But for now, he resets the song back to the start and sets it on the bed while it's paused. The black wolf stretches his arms, his muscles, doing prep exercises that add sway to his dick, and his nuts to accidentally peek out of his speedo's legs. He adjusts them before his big show, this time his dick flopping out over the hem of his speedo's crotch.

It's Sexy Dexy's time. The song starts, Redfoo hyping himself up as the dj calls onto his name. And this is where he turns the lyrics onto himself;

[i]'Let's go, oh!'[/i]

Dexter swings his arm upwards, pumping his muscles with a gentle wave.

[i]'Oooh, the way that you pop, Dex,'[/i]

[i] 'Makes me go cray, show me what you got, Dex,'[/i]

And he sways his abs now, forward and back while his dick swings back and forth in and out between his legs, sweat glistening from his thick hardening shaft, and his thin fur above the waistline.

[i]"You could be my new thang'[/i]

[i] 'Oooh, the way that you move,'[/i]

[i] 'Makes me go cray, do you love that drop Dex,'[/i]

He holds the sides of his speedo, lifting it up, stretching outward as he imagines the grand reveal.

[i]'You could be my new thang.'[/i]

And he drops his speedo instantaneously, hooking it with his fingers then spinning it over his head as he sways his hips side to side. Dexter faces his mirror, loving what he sees, his red eyes fixated on his black shaft bobbing up and down as his motions smear his oozing pre all over his tip. The immaculate sound of the saxophone controls his thrusts, with every high note going outward, droplets of pre and sweat sprinkling the bed in front of him and the screen on his phone.

[i]'Get sexy, Dex, get sexy'[/i]

[i] 'Get sexy, Dex, get sexy'[/i]

And he does so so with great effect with hands behind his back, thrusting forward with his dick to the mirror. In a few short steps in between the small beats, he smears pre against his reflection, and thrusts against it more. Dexter imagines himself frotting with his doppelganger to limited effect– only their cocks touch, throbbing against each other's hard on.

[i]'Get sexy, Dex, get sexy'[/i]

They both gaze into each other's eyes, longing, wanting. He can't feel his hot breath sadly, but his reflection's pre dribbles down with his clear sticky ooze bridging both their sacks. But as the saxophone and the hi-hat cymbal duet power through to the next stanza, his mask pours out a flood of latex that covers his body. In a quick motion his body is being covered in darkness, matching his fur but glistens more from the fading light. The real him grins underneath his mask as the cool rubbery texture envelops all of him, and his cock twitches uncontrollably inside.

His other self looks back to him, cladded in the same kinksuit and with the same throbbing shaft. And in this typical lupine fashion, they both wolf-whistle one another.

His surroundings darken as the furniture within disappeared except for his mirror. Now, his reflection waves at him, sliding away for a moment before multiplying itself, duplicates upon duplicates of himself gradually surround him. They cheer and howl with some swinging their hips, others shaking their ass.

The darkness then extends outward, revealing a room under dark red light with wolf motifs, and his own personal scent of cherry and musk; a shrine to himself. His phone now rests on the dresser as the wall speakers play his song going into the next stanza. It's as energetic as he remembers a decade ago. Dexter flexes his body, waving it side to side, front and back to the saxophone only for the next stanza to follow.

[i]'I heard it's your birthday'[/i]

[i] 'Grab a drink if your thirsty'[/i]

He grabs a bottle of scotch, chugging it down from half to none. Tonight's his night after all, and he wants all his birthday selves to celebrate with him as they cheer his name: The Latex Alpha. This liquid courage further emboldens his reflections to step out of their mirrors to join in the worship of his superiority. Toned muscles, immaculate musk, and the quality of his suit far superior than everyone else in the building. His name is no exaggeration, he's one of the top customers after all.

Their hands explore him, faces of jealousy and desire behind their wolf-styled latex masks. Dexter can hear their thoughts; they about his years in the military and how they've given him the muscles he has today. The scars from his battles (and a few training accidents), and the Divine's gift of his massive dick. He feels his shaft throb to their hot touch, their wide-eyed stares always in disbelief.

Dexter sings a part of the lyrics, [i]'I can see that you need an OG, that could do you the best in the worst way.'[/i]

[i]'Pop it like a go-go,'[/i] his eager servants want to have more of him.

He makes a popping sound that lowers the flap covering his shaft, releasing a more powerful smell that makes his other selves salivate underneath their masks. His black cock oozing more pre than he normally does, one of their wandering hands coats his tool, feeling it pulse against it. A beast that a hand few will bear its length and girth tonight.

Dexter then glances around looking for volunteers, [i]'Drop it like a low-low.'[/i]

And about four of them lose their bottoms in unexplainable ways though none of them are complaining. The other Dexters step back to make room for the other four surrounding him, their muscles not as great, nor their cocks as long.

One of the Dexters closest to the bed points at the dresser beside it, asking, [i]'What's that?'[/i]

Dexter answers [i]'It's a Go-Pro. So I can watch this all back, HD, slo-mo.'[/i] And while its recordings are mostly him jerking off to himself, he can always recall their warm breaths, their moaning, and how soft their rears are whenever he grasps them. Now? He experiences the pseudo-realistic sensations, their desire so palpable he makes out with each of them, tasting their whiskey-laced tongues, feeling their latex-covered bodies quiver in his arms.

He says, [i]'I don't care if it's the first date.'[/i] Followed by the cheers of other Dexters. Their surroundings shift to a posh hotel after his deployment in Europe. He remembers vividly his doppelganger in bed, naked like he is, and he rails him throughout the night resulting in a harmonious howl. Soundproof walls are the reason why it's expensive in the first place. The soft beds, the cool room that didn't bother them because of the heat that emanated from their passion. Needy bedroom eyes that he's held back from gazing into for about a month's time after their collaborative training. He's edged himself for that long that his reflection's fur turned white with his saved-up spunk. But he'll be generous tonight, giving each of his selves a portion of his seed each.

Dexter's finger points to his self beside, [i]'I'll take you back to my place.'[/i] And the other Dexters cheer them on too. The real one cums in his doppelganger first, in a quick thrust that shoots his spunk inside him.

"Th-thank you Latex Alpha," his asshole twitches tightly, his own cock shooting imaginary spunk onto the floor. But the smell, that salty musk– Dexter sniffs it in, growling as he exhales and rewards his self with an extra strand of his wolf seed. His reflection then collapses, ass sticking up and out for the audience to peek over, seeing an exposed pink donut oozing with white cream, staining the black latex soon after.

Dexter's next recollection is another time back at his actual home, while Miles was out with Alex and his friends at a gay bar. He's in his basement with his personal lair, donning the same outfit but the bedroom has more of his identity plastered all over. Uncleaned musk in some, and a latex wolf head with red lamp eyes. He's taken interest in playing pretend; what's left in the kitchen is a finished dinner plate with an empty glass of wine, opposite of an imaginary set too. This doppelganger of his has gone inside, wide-eyed at the shrine being a spectacle to him and him alone. The real him would've let his reflection 'borrow' his own clothes, watching him put on. But given it's black latex on black fur, it made little difference. And he remembers vividly pinning him down, trying to wrestle and winning of course. How he unzips the zipper right beneath his tail, and drags it down to see a tight hole ripe for the fucking. Of course his reflection was tight, warm, and clenching against his large shaft.

Dexter plays it slow, and then plays the song too to help him keep pace. Halfway through it, his thrusting matched the drums of the song, looking into his red eyes and projecting his superiority against him. The black wolf sees himself in his partner's red eyes with such awe and reverence. It never fails to help get him off. He came in him in the same manner he cums now, except this Dexter has no words to share other than a long pleased whine.

The real him pats his ass as he gives him his share of wolf cream. Still squirming, his insides as warm as the first. And after he's pulled out, his reflection is left on the ground dizzied but satisfied, and now he turns to his third self-lover. Dexter sings, [i]'We can skip first base.'[/i] And the scenery shifts once more. What if he's never had to take them to dinner, or had to wait so long? Instead, he recalls a long motorcycle trip through the cold autumn evening, wearing the same outfit he is now since it is meant for the long rides with howling winds blowing against them. Rarely does this suit ever go outside because of the smell it wafts, wanting to keep his scent on it as much as he can.

He recalls the ride being smooth, half-an-hour away from one of his personal forest spots. It's a small clearing not far off from a hilly overlook of a different town. He parks his motorbike, the smell of chrome and gasoline makes his cock throb against his suit, followed by a bottle of whiskey, and his phone playing his go-to song. Out of the forest is a latex werewolf that sprints at him, feral-like, and lustful. Large muscles covered by his favorite rubbery material, his face is masked with neoprene, but underneath it is someone once scorned. A bit of flavor and fluff to add this backstory of how a beast once ferocious has a taste for wolf-milk instead of animal blood. Dexter sidesteps and trips in a quick motion, quicker is his hand finding the beast's nuts. This monster, in more ways than one, submits lest he feels the sharp pain with a squeeze.

"Good boy," Dexter pulls his cock out, and unzips the imaginary werewolf's outfit, exposing his hole too. But in the present, everyone in the party watches the imaginary wolf transform under the Latex Alpha's hands. Twice larger, but only half as dominant. They all howl, like the werewolf did back then when Dexter didn't bluff. "Really good boy," he repeats to him. And now he buries his bone inside, howling the loudest to show off his dominance. The werewolf beneath buries his claws into the ground, feeling his dick swinging out in the cold air. His aroma is much stronger than the normal wolf's, Dexter rapidly thrusting into him, his motions matching the song. [i]''Cause a player like my trna slide into yo ass,'[/i], it goes on. [i]'Clap clap, make it clap.'[/i] Which is what he's doing after all. No one else but them in the forest to hear the sound of loud plaps as Canada's greatest soldier tames such a great beast. And he gets a few slaps in from the palm of his hand too. This goes on for moments, teasing the werewolf with his encroaching length. Each thrust is an edge closer, but Dexter remembers the pseudo challenge he's placed with himself: who cums first. And it's expected that Dexter won that challenge hands down, but the spectacular length the werewolf had to go through without cumming was fantastic. His claws still dug into the ground, muscles tensing, his breathing as fast as the wolf behind him thrusts in and out. Widening eyes as he feels latex wrap his dick, stroking it, and lets out a howl and a moan to hold his climax back. Whimper after whimper, panting after panting, and the sudden yelp as Dexter's thumb circles around his tip, smearing pre all over.

Dexter adores his uncontrollable twitching, whimpering that matches his writhing body as he breaks down his resistances. His pace slows, the werewolf beneath him relaxing himself. He looks down upon him, half seeing the forest and his VIP room. All the same though, his body fiery hot in passion, with his heart thumping. He's stepped back to let his tip be suckled by the werewolf's puckering asshole, thinking he's about to receive another rapid set of thrusts. Instead, he bucks his hips forward in one magnificent push, moving his entire body forward, carrying a momentum that rocked the werewolf to his core. The loud slam of Dexter's thighs against his ass is overshadowed by a loud climaxing moan. He's broken-in the werewolf firing thick aromatic spunk, growling in need as he feels the slow and powerful meat being shoved inside, but he's still not being filled at all. A strong crumpled fist slams into the ground, in Dexter's mind plays with the drum from the song. His endurance cannot compare, especially as the werewolf fires his next load of cream to the ground beneath, pooling and shining under the moonlight. Or with a red tint under the club's lights.

Dexter flexes his incredible endurance, lasting for another full five minutes before giving the needy werewolf his just rewards. They howl in unison, and he remembers how the wolves in the background howl along too, unknown that it's a mating call. Whereas in the present, all the other Dexters howl, proclaiming the real him, and humiliating the werewolf for his defeat.

He pulls out, leaving a messed up hole that is far redder than the others. The werewolf slumped forward, and fell to the side. Dexter turns him around and leaves his legs spread open for others to see his softening pulsing shaft oozing pre and cum. He then turns to his last self, wondering which memory to best associate him with.

The next lyrics to come up were, [i]'Lights on, lights off, make it clap,'[/i] and Dexter's clapping hands make the lights blink. Almost like a rave, he remembers a night years ago when this place was still called 'Sexy Studs', and how the alcohol has made it feel like a party inside. He remembers the song on loop, the lights dancing to its beat, as he was with his selves. With their bodies swaying to the song, he slipped into one of them in what may seem an accident. But no, he starts to fuck with one of his lucky reflections. In the present day, the flash of lights makes him dance as the song progresses before 'stumbling' into his next partner who yips and mutters in delight after.

[i]'Yeah, make it clap,'[/i] and he humps with the same fervor as with the werewolf, audible slamming between his thighs and his partner's cheeks. Flash of lights that has made every other Dexter around them dance too. Bodies to bodies, masks to masks, growling and grinding against each other with squeaking noises in between. But Dexter wants to be the center of attention, pushing his partner through his thrusts towards his bed. His subordinate bent over, gratuitously taking Dexter's large rod. The flash of lights dance between white and red, then and now, the old and the new. Whoever thought 'you can't teach old dogs new tricks' needs to rethink such a fallacious quote. Because all he sees here is his own lust, satisfied, and going with the times. He is a soldier after all, a matter-of-fact that drives who he really is. Adaptability, endurance– who's to say that can't be applied in the bedroom? He turns his other self around, his own glowing red eyes gazing down into his partner's who looks at him with love. They exchange a deep kiss, their bodies pressed against each other. His mind bounces to the same time in the past that he did, holding his hands as he presses them down against the mattress.

In just a few more thrusts, Dexter's climax arrives. He sees himself as an equal to his partner here who climaxes with him. The other Dexters behind him cheer them on before continuing to dance, the chorus coming up soon. However, to further express his imagination's prowess, Dexter has one last idea in mind.

Firstly, he kisses his reflection on the bed, whispering to him what a lovely time they shared together amidst the loud howling and music playing overhead. But he pulls out after, winking him goodbye as he slides down the bed and stands, disappearing into the crowd. Dexter lets the song loop one more time before he envisions the lyrics that comes after his last romp, [i]'My name ain't Santa, but he's sittin' on my lap, oh!'[/i]

And there it is, Dexter smiles as he sits himself down on the bed. With a quick thought, he assigns another him to be his bitch who will sit on his dick while the other hims put on an erotic show; several of them flex their muscles, their glutes, their legs. And they follow with a routine: swaying their hips side to side before thrusting front and back. And they stand then squat in place, gyrating their hips, and alternating in between. Fantastic dancers he surmises, and the finest he can imagine. The head Dexter and his loyal cocksleeve watch in awe, noting the twitching of their cock and their muscles. He allows them to unzip, unveiling plenty of dark lengths, oozing pre. Not one has gone unheld in those following moments, stroking slick black dicks to the satisfied whimperings of his selves. Their song keeps playing, their pace matching to the beat. Hands exploring each other, whereas only the Dexter on his lap is given the master's real shaft. But even then his master's hand caresses his cock too.

It is apparent that his doppelganger is enjoying the show as he himself is too. Seeing all these caricatures of himself worshiping the apex wolf; the Latex Alpha. Oh how he loves them all equally, yet is underneath him. "Who am I?!" Dexter yells out to them, all followed by a rowdy cheer mixed in with their moans. They all answer in unison, "Latex Alpha!" and proceed to chant it afterwards, their stroking matching its pace.

Dexter wants to reaffirm, stroking his ego more pleasurable than his shaft ever, "Who?!"

"Latex! Alpha!"

"Cum for your Latex Alpha!" Dexter orders them.

With his quick imagination, he orders his selves to cum between themselves. Staining their latex suits, some seeping in between the open zippers and brushing over their fur. A mishmash of howls start only for it to unite some time after. And their afterglow comes forth, short-lived as their party goes on. They have the room for another few hours, so what's another several loops of his song? It starts to play again, and it goes to show that you really can teach Old Dogs [i]New Thangs[/i].

Somewhere else…

"Hey Milesman," Alex zips himself up with his latex-based motorcycle suit. He asks, "You sure your dad's alright with using his motorbike?" He unzips his bag and stuffs a few 'toys' of theirs for tonight. "Didn't think he'd actually let you."

Miles packs their lubrication and other refreshments for their post-fuck picnic later. "It's basically a gift to me for becoming a man," he laments. "He's also getting a new one as far as I know, but wants to keep this one for nostalgia."

"It does get more expensive with age." Alex zips up his bag and slings it over his shoulder. He takes his and Miles' helmet from the table, offering the latter as he too closes up his bag. "Have you driven it before?"

"I've driven it by myself, yes. Have you ridden in one before?" Miles accepts his helmet and wrings it around his arm, motioning to his partner for them to go downstairs. And gestures to him to wait by the foyer.

"A few times," Alex recalls a part of his youth, the old thrill of driving a motorcycle, wearing something more 'civilized' as the outside world calls it. Thinking about it makes him conscious, tingles prickling around his scales. His tool below the waist throbs with anticipation but he pats himself down to relax.

Miles takes notice, "Don't get too excited now hun." Bumping hips as he walks past and through the living room and into the kitchen to make sure their backroom door is locked. He's already ascertained that the windows upstairs are closed, so are the living room's, and the old gym that acts as a hallway leading to their emergency bunker. But it does baffle him that despite being an adult, his father strictly forbids him from entering it.

"Everything's locked, hun?" Alex glances at the direction he's come from, then puts on the helmet as they are about to venture out at one in the morning as the foyer clock reads.

"Yep, we're ready to go," Miles equips his helmet, and they proceed out the door. A cold wind blows past them, circling around their first floor balcony. But their suits are insulated, meant for speedy rides. Miles' motorcycle parked out on the driveway, its chrome still shining and reflecting the full moonlight. He's proud of keeping it pristine, and he knows his father would be proud of him too. They walk over, keeping themselves attentive to their surroundings. It's a weeknight so all their neighbors are fast asleep. Their eyes leer around, making sure no one's peeking out of any windows. Silent in their footsteps as they've been trained.

They get on the bike, Miles grabbing his key from a hidden helmet compartment. He turns the motorcycle on from a purr to a roar, vibrating in his seat as the vehicle reacts to him switching his gears. Alex's eyes widen at how intense this bike feels compared to others before. He purrs along with it, hugging onto Miles as he experiences a metaphorical orgasm.

Alex says, "Your dad knows his motorcycles." He's getting hard but Miles doesn't feel it yet.

"Mhm, I feel like this is in the top five of the things he loves."

"I can assume his wife and you are in the top two then. Maybe Chase is third? Fourth his career, and fifth this thing." The vibrations roar again, and this time he feels them going forth.

"That sounds about right," Miles agrees with the guesses. But now's not the time for idle thoughts. The bike's theatrics are not for show as they're able to go from zero to forty in less than a second, and he has to slow down due to suburban rules. From afar, and even up close, he and Alex look like motorcyclists participating in a late night race, that once they're out of their village and into the main road, the bike zooms at double the speed within a heartbeat, fast enough for the lamp lights to blur past them.

"Holy shit!" Alex exclaims, feeling the adrenaline peak within his body and his cock, actively grinding against Miles' lower back. He clings onto him now, his latex almost gluing with him. Sweating underneath, this level of excitement is similar to riding a helicopter while sitting by the open door. But there's no fear here since it's his partner at the handlebars. "This is the coolest thing ever!"

"Even cooler than sex?" Miles jokes, wagging his tail against his partner's bulge. He's hard too, and Alex will get back at him one way or another.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, hun," he comments. They laugh together, and the ride going forward is in relative silence until he makes a suggestion. "How about we listen to some tunes on the way there?"

"Sure, just enable bluetooth and you can use voice commands for the song." Miles slows down to the highway's minimum speed of 60km/h as Alex moves his hand to tap the side of his own helmet. He hears the connection sequence, "Okay, you're in."

Alex smirks behind that Miles does not see, chuckling. Almost like an 'oh no' from his boyfriend as he says, "Play 'New Thang' by Redfoo."

Miles' ears perk up under his helmet as the bass and the pop chanting fill his ears through the bluetooth. And then the song starts, reminding him of the year 2015 when he first heard this song. At first he doesn't like it because it's a mish mash of lyrics he doesn't care about but he thoroughly enjoys the music behind it as well as the saxophones. He's even tried to find an instrumental-only version without any of the audiomarks t o no avail. But listening to it again last year, at the thought of being with his Alex, it starts to make more sense especially with how much it enhances his libido. He pops a boner any time he's listened to it with his boyfriend around, but combine that with the thrill of driving a vibrating motorbike? The music invigorates him with the song at:

[i]'Oooh, the way that you pop girl,'[/i]

[i]'Makes me go cray, show me what you got, girl'[/i]

[i]'You could be my new thang'[/i]

Miles still smiles at the first memory he shares with Alex with this song playing in the background. It's during the first few months of their relationship. A casual date in a restaurant, and he hears this from another gay couple– a fox and a raccoon if he can recall. And they danced to it, which made them smile. He remembers intertwining his fingers with Alex's, leaning closer as they chuckle to the subject matter of its lyrics. But they made love to that song on that same night, laughing as their muzzles pressed against each other.

[i] 'Ooh, the way that you move'[/i]

[i] 'Makes me go cray, pick it up now drop girl'[/i]

[i] 'You could be my new thang'[/i]

"[i]Aha[/i]," Alex can distinguish the motorcycle from Miles' innate trembling lust. He nuzzles his back through his helmet as they venture closer to their private spot. Who arrives first though? Miles' climax? Them? Or the song's conclusion? Not that last one since it's going to be on repeat for the rest of the night. He continues, sliding his hands down to the wolf's hips, holding onto it while pressing against them almost like a gentle grope.

'[i]Get sexy, girl, get sexy," [/i]repeats thrice to the sound of saxophones. Miles picks up the speed to match its tempo, adrenaline coursing through his body, and all the way to his dick. He doesn't always show how pink his cheeks get, especially when it's his dragon touching him. "[i]Yeah, aha.'[/i]

And Alex knows the song by heart, his voice overlapping the next lyrics, [i]'I heard that you love to mingle.'[/i]

So does Miles, [i]'Now you talkin' my lingo,'[/i]

[i]'I could feel your libido,'[/i] Alex sings, [i]'Bring four friends with you, Bingo!'[/i]

Miles wags his tail again, thinking of the countless other nights he, his boyfriend, and their friends have hung out in the now-called Latex Lair. [i]'Yeah ain't nothing but a flirt, aha!'[/i]

[i]'The way you bouncin in that shirt?'[/i] Alex tugs on his latex before snapping it back in place. And he grinds himself forward while Miles knowingly feels and hotdogs in between it. [i]'It's amazing how you drop it.'[/i]

[i]'Pick it up and still make it work, oh!'[/i] Miles gestures the turn to their spot, pausing their moment as their bike vanishes into an obscure forest trail. It's a bumpy road with the dried mud where his car and now bike have ventured into before. The tracks, the scent– all them. It's about ten minutes in until they find their clearing, a large cut patch of grass, which he's labored to stay at that length. They're surrounded by trees and saplings that move past that encirclement bit by bit.

Once the quiet of the night returns, they both momentarily remove their helmets to exchange a kiss atop their bikes. Tongues touching, their hands exploring one another as their latex-on-latex squeak on and on. Alex manages to reach his bulge first, lengthy and dark as his suit. He unzips it and only it, with white fur barely peeking out only for his shaft to leak a lot of pre.

Miles lets off a tiny howl as his dragon boyfriend works his magic. Wordless, he gestures to the open field where their helmets are on once more, and leaves their bags where they sat. He's on the soft patch, trimmed enough to not prickle them, especially as his dragon pins him down still massaging his shaft and the bulging orbs underneath it.

[i]'Yo body lethal,'[/i] Alex says to his wolf, the well-known Halifax Reaper.

[i]'I might HR freak you,'[/i] Miles retorts. Though he's stronger and higher in rank, his boyfriend tops their more intimate moments. His partner gestures at him to turn around, which he does where his length prickles just over the grass, his pre dripping on them like dew after the rain.

[i]'Goddamn that booty smack, sitting high up on your back,'[/i] he lowers Miles' front, raising his rear and lifting his open palm, smiling behind his visor. [i]'What the fuck did they feed you? Aha!'[/i]

Miles knows what's to come, shaking his ass side to side for him.

[i]'Clap, clap, clap clap, make it clap; lights on, lights off, make it clap,'[/i] Alex spanks his rear at each 'clap' he utters. Audible smacks that, to his astoundment, scared off a nearby perched crow. And he spanks it once more, [i]'Yeah, make it clap, my name ain't Apple, but they call me the Mac, oh!'[/i]

Miles howls as the next lyrics sets in, loving the kind of pain he feels at his bottom. Moreso that it's Alex who's doing it to him. The other wolves far from him howl too, unknowing that this is out of eroticism. Alex joins him in the howl, having grown accustomed to his lupine ways. And that in itself is an act of love far greater than any form of sex he'll experience. One he can only repay in kind by speaking with him in the same language too. But for now? He'll be his dragon's hoard.

They sang the next part together, '[i]Ooh, the way that you pop girl, makes me go cray,'[/i]

[i] 'Show me what you got girl, you could be my new thang,'[/i]

[i] 'Ooh, the way that you move,'[/i] Alex enjoys his little wiggles, and the jerks and jolts whenever his finger traces over his spanked area. [i]'Makes me go cray, pick it up now drop girl, you could be my new thang,'[/i] and the saxophones come on again. His hands explore the curvatures between his legs, squeezing his nuts, holding his bulge, and feeling its pooling moisture behind the latex. But this teasing doesn't last too long, no. He has bigger plans for him.

"Getting close here, y'know?" Miles says to him, grinding his cock against his still hand once Alex stops and staring back at him. "Or do you have something bigger in store for me, hun?"

Alex squeezes his large dick, chuckling with its double entendre. "Nothing as big as this." He then shifts his focus towards the bags on their bike, letting Miles stand up, their song still playing on loop. It's also the first instance his manly wolf scent blends with nature's dew, while contrasting the burning but invigorating metal of their motorbike. That said though, with it shining from the full moon, Miles leads it to the shade while he brings both bags over his shoulder.

Miles can't help but smile, watching his boyfriend strut and shaking his ass to the beat. He teases him from time to time but it brings him great comfort knowing how willingly submissive he is to his dragon. It's an odd kind of love– or maybe this is how love is for another all along?

"Don't you know it's rude to stare, Miles?" Alex humors him, shaking his butt more. They find themselves under the shadow of trees, moonlight barely peeking in. The red of their visors glowed an ominous as they walk through the forest holding hands, and eventually holding each other's asses. "I'm going to have to 'punish' you now, y'know?"

"Oh no, whatever will I do?" Miles answers sarcastically, bumping his helmet against him. His heart's beating fast with excitement, and with intrigue as they go up the mountain path. The first thing that comes to mind is the thought of being spotted out here in their kink gear. With no motorcycle in sight, anyone who'll find them here is going to think of them as perverts, which only entices his loins more. But given they're going up here, and his body tingles at the overlook of a town, he already has an idea of what Alex is going to do to him.

Alex can tell by the way his body tenses, and the obvious bouncing of his bulge that Miles knew what's to come. But there's always a pleasant surprise hiding inside his bag. Once they reach the top, they find themselves in a decrepit picnic area so old there's no trash left here. There are bases for mounted telescopes but the pole and the telescope itself are long gone too. It provided a good view of the town of Silver Valley below, which connects to the greater area of Maple Ridge. A cozy amber glow, reminding them of the lives they are called to protect. For tonight though, they'll watch over it in a different light. Alex gives Miles a sip of water first, having some for himself too before they continue. And he's made sure that his darling wolf sees his devious grin for what comes next.

To Miles' surprise, Alex reveals a pair of latex mittens. He's expecting something more devious like a lot of rope that ties him up like a shibari, or toys to insert up his ass. But this? It's too simple, but that means he can't attempt to please himself or his partner anymore.

"Now, puppy," Alex says, his tone much deeper. His gaze expresses an authority new to the revered wolf. "You answer me with 'Yes, daddy', is that clear, pup?"

Miles' eyes widened behind the visor, his tongue almost wanting to lap out like a dog. He's no stranger to figures on top of him but this one is certainly something else. His cock throbs wanting to be set free but alas knows that he must obey his rules first, responding, "Yes, daddy."

"Good boy," Alex pats him on the head before going back to his bag. "Come."

"Yes, daddy," Miles barks after, walking to him on all fours while trying to balance himself well with the mittens. It doesn't take him long, finding himself closer to the edge again. His cock tingles with a similar sentiment, especially at the thought of anyone seeing him in this manner. But a familiar sensation yanks him out of this wanderlust, a small vibration nudged against his perineum, sliding down towards his balls, causing his upper body to collapse in ecstasy.

"That's my boy," Alex drags the small vibrator on medium setting along Miles' cock, making him whine like a pleased pup. And he has another 'gift' for him; a collar with its leash as all good boys should have. "That's my good boy," he emphasizes. "Lay on your back so I could give you some belly rubs."

Miles lays on his back, his legs tucked inwards, only for him to spread out as his dragon puts the bullet at the very sensitive tip of his dick. The musk and pheromones course through his suit, trapping them somewhat in his helmet, but Alex is not merciless. He lifts the visor to not let him get intoxicated, and the dragon has lifted his own too, falling in love with those blue eyes. Except this sweet moment is interrupted by the intensifying vibrator resting over his nuts, while his partner gives him the well deserved belly rubs. But he does want to say, "I love you."

Alex lets out a more sincere smile from the little curvatures he sees past the visor, saying, "I love you too." He lets him rest for a minute after feeling his wolf's muscle tense up towards a climax he just won't reward yet. It left him whimpering, a pleasant sound to his ears that leaves his tail wagging. For now though, he unpockets his phone and continues playing their song again, letting it run through the beginning. Where every utterance of 'clap' is another gentle spank on the wolf's bottom. But he sings most of the lyrics this time, and when he's reached the last stanza, [i]'Hey babe, I know we're always set, and I love that.'[/i]

Miles sings his remarks, [i]'You're playing hard to get.'[/i]

[i]'And you're the type that,'[/i] Alex runs his hand along his back, rubbing until the tip of his tail. He growls, squeezing Miles' cheeks again before running down the vibrator between them, prodding it at his hole as he feels his cock rub itself against his thigh.

[i]'Makes me wanna do thangs,'[/i] Miles keeps himself composed long enough to sing it, moaning after as the toy buries itself in his hole halfway through. "Fuck…" he whines as his body shudders.

[i]'And that's why I'm tryna make you my new thang,'[/i] Alex sings, keeping his toy inside him. He reaches under and continues stroking him underneath, employing the same technique that pushes him to his limit. His fingers massage his length, pressing them at intervals while sliding down to his base.

Miles humps into his hand, feeling his climax approach yet again, but at every gentle pinch, Alex denies him it. And he forces himself to deny that impending climax as best he could.

And Alex starts singing the last stanza, [i]'Hey babe, I know we're always set, and I love that. You're playing hard to get.'[/i] He sets him on his side, yanking the toy out and stimulating his cock with it. Looking in between his partner's eyes he sees a begging wolf.

But Miles sees in him a demanding drake, still insistent on following his every command. He mutters, [i]'And you're the type that makes me wanna do thangs.'[/i] Always at that, allowing himself to be pinned down. Alex on top of him, removing their helmets as their muzzles touch, taking in the intense musk that's been built up between them.

[i]'And that's why I'm making you my new thang'[/i] Alex locks his lips. As the bass drops from the phone, it then screams, [i]'Party people!'[/i] When the saxophones follow with the drums, Alex frots his bulge against Miles', vibrator sandwiched between their schlongs. Their latex suits squeaking against each other with the song's cheer echoing in the background.

Alex sings to him the beginning of the end, [i]'Get sexy, pup, get sexy.'[/i] He breaks their kiss apart with a long strand of saliva string between their lips. Dragon claws feeling him up on his sides, making him tense and pleasured. Two climaxes are bound to happen in a moment. [i]'Get sexy, pup, get sexy,'[/i] he embraces him, pressing all of himself against his wolf. And he turns him around, sliding himself across his body to the sound of squeaks and latex screeching, embracing him from behind. His shaft buried between his tight wolf cheeks, and pressing the vibrator in between it too.

Miles feels the updraft coming from the cliff's edge caress him, the cold only making his body tingle. The contrast of his inner heat further emphasizes his libido, and the sensation that Alex is giving him through his precise caresses, especially as his claws found the zipper from the base of his tail. The moon above is shining bright looking down upon him, Maple Ridge and Silver Valley his 'audience'. It all lines up as he could feel his partner press the vibrator into his sweating loose hole again. And he can only hear the buzz, followed by a whisper to the now-gone beat.

[i]'Cum, sexy pup, cum, sexy, yeah'[/i] Alex thrusts his hips forward, and the vibrator inside as he turns it to the max. His hand unzips Miles' lower torso, unveiling his pre-covered cock, and with it the strong musk that the howling winds carry.

[i]'Awooooo!'[/i] Miles cries out in pleasure, his voice echoing throughout the land. Other wolves both feral and sapient pick up and howl along, unknowing of his sex escapade. And how his cock is shooting string after string of pent-up wolf milk over the edge. Droplets of his seed sparkling under the moonlight before it vanishes into the trees below. His inner flame continues to burn as his own howl only gets louder with more wolves joining in.

Alex joins on in, having perfected the pitch enough to pass off as one too. He cums inside his own latex suit, plentiful as Miles, but gushing in sticky warmth as he slaps his crotch against his rear. And he lifts his head, his howl turns to a roar as blue fire escapes his mouth, its intensity matching the amount he splooged that very moment, seeping between the chains of his zipper.

But once the flames died down, both literal and metaphorical, Miles lets Alex's lips cool off for a moment before kissing him deeply. Wordless, only the sounds of their tongues sliding against each other, and the softer squeaks of their latex suits. Alex then finally unzips his latex suit between the legs, his own seed oozing out and filling the air, mixing with Miles'.

The latter speaking first, "I'm impressed with how good you are with the latex stuff, hun."

"Well, you can't spell latex without Alex afterall." He remarks, pecking the laughing wolf's nose.

"Alright, that was a smart one." This time Miles pushes him down gently, using his bag as a pillow and cuddling with him, ignoring the mess they've made together. The moonlight brings out the shine of his scales, making them twinkle too. Looking at him longingly, knowing there's more to come. Maybe riskier? Hopefully without getting caught. He exhales, though saying–

"Thank you," they both said together, chuckling at the coincidence. "Thank you too," Alex beats him to it first though. "I had a lot of fun, having you be my cute widdle puppy." He nuzzles him, very musky, which overpowers the smell of chrome and gas he had earlier.

"Surely better than Milesman," he replies. "But please don't use it in earshot of anyone else, please?"

"Of course not puppy, I wouldn't," he kisses his forehead. "It's our little secret."

"Love you," Miles whispers to him, his body finally cooling down. Muscles aching somewhat, but he'll use this exhaustion as an excuse to snuggle up to him.

"Love you too." Alex lets him, closing him into his arms. Tonight will remain close to his heart as he becomes the master in their bedroom, and his dearest Miles his puppy. His own heart beats loud and fast, a wholly feeling as he felt Miles' too. Under the lunar glow, it almost feels magical. It's here he realizes that even if they've lived the longest lives, there's always an adventure to be found. Doesn't have to be kinky but he certainly hopes for more of that. After all, who said you can't teach Old Dogs New Thangs?

****