FSE

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He stood watching like a predator, biding his time before he lunged for the kill, all the while toying with his prey who cowered before him on his knees. Whilst the wolf was not unfamiliar with submitting, he did not like the feeling of his skin crawling beneath his fur as the brute's gaze devoured him with his eyes. Cold, beady, unyielding, they were the eyes of someone who lacked the compassion in their soul to even begin to understand kindness. It was chilling. Floww didn't like it.

Though he could hear the steady thump of electronica music blaring away beyond the walls surrounding them, the bathroom remained shockingly empty. For all the clubbers who were throwing themselves around to the beat, downing every alcoholic drink they could stomach, and lewdly latching themselves onto whichever fur would take them, the toilets remained undisturbed, meaning that Floww had found himself trapped, the door to freedom behind the thug who had him cornered, and urinals to his back and only sinks and cubicles upon either side. He had only slipped away to quickly relieve himself before heading back onto the dancefloor, but the nasty Rottweiler who stood over him now and shoved him to the floor. Floww suspected he'd followed him in there. The canine had been gauging him up for some time, leering at him from the bar but refusing to make a move. He must have figured out the wolf was alone tonight. Nobody knew he was in there. A dark shudder ran down his spine as all the implications came hurtling at him in the fractions of seconds, his gut dropping to the floor as he shivered where he knelt.

"Please don't hurt me..." he whimpered, finding his voice, but the Rottweiler above him snarled, ugly rows of teeth bared behind his grizzled lips. His muzzle had tattered scars spotted through the fur, where the colour no longer grew and pitch brown was marked with skinless absence and pink flesh. Piercings hung upon his ears, several in each, whilst his headfur had been styled into a Mohawk and dyed a horrific shade of green. His chest, broad and thick with muscle, was barely contained by the black shirt clinging to his body, a loose fitting denim vest hanging upon his frame, much too well-worn to retain any fashion appeal but Floww doubted the man was concerned with how people saw him. His jeans were equally as faded, 'distressed' in places though again the wolf realised this wasn't an active decision but more circumstance to what they had been through. He was a thug if ever there was one, with heavy boots though the leather worn, but with imposing soles and a heel that promised vicious blows to whoever it met. The wolf may as well have paired him to a motorcycle and he wouldn't have looked at all out of place amongst a convoy of other brutish men. He looked like the kind of guy who could grind glass between his teeth and not even feel the slightest cut.

As the wolf mewled, he snorted, as if the very thought of someone begging for mercy was bemusing,

"Oh you won't get hurt," he sneered, one meaty paw of his sliding its way across his belt, reaching for the fly, "so long as you do as you're told."

There was nothing he could do but watch as the Rottweiler slid his zipper down, the sound so sharp in the air that it rung in Floww's ears, despite the bass outside. He felt cold all of a sudden, the chill of the bathroom sinking through his fur, clad in only the skimpiest of outfits for what should have been a good night out, a fishnet top with cut-off jeans and neon glow sticks adorning him like talismans, but he felt bare in front of the male who glowered over him like a butcher over meat, priming for the cut.

One paw flashed towards him, snatching him by the purple strands of his fur, and immediately Floww recoiled, but the fingers laced themselves like iron rods and snagged tight against his scalp. He was powerless to stop the bulging muscle drag him in, pulling his head and pressuring his body to follow the behemoth's will. The Rottweiler wasn't wearing any underwear. He had gone commando and now the wolf found himself face to face with a plump, ripe sheath. The stench of musk was heavy on the air as his head was pushed towards it, paw clamped behind his skull and his muzzle mere inches away from the dog's sack. Raggedy black fur and deeper tan marked the outline of his crotch, two swollen balls and the promise of a monstrous endowment within; Floww however was not permitted the luxury of seeing the Rottweiler grow to his fullest length. His lips were forced to the canine's nuts, head pressed deep into the folds of his scrotum.

"You faggots love it, don'tcha?" The wolf breathed against the musk, feeling it fill him to the brim as it swelled, noxious and potent, "You like it when a man takes control. Fuckin' puffs... Lick my balls then."

What was he to do except obey?

All too obediently for his own comfort, Floww found his lips pursed against the musky sack. As much as his intent was to recoil, his body succumbed to the dank allure of this masculine thug who kept a paw planted against his skull, possessive and threatening. Though in his head he thought to protest, there never came any outcry. With eagerness that came from some dark recess of himself, the wolf suckled upon the Rottweiler's sweaty balls. The bristles of his fur were thick and rough, the taste of salt and grime smothering his tongue, and the heat just radiating through his maw. It leaked into him, some infernal flood of oils and slimes that nobody ought to be consuming, yet there he was upon his knees in some nightclub's dismal bathroom sucking this man's nuts as if there were nothing better to do in the whole world. It made Floww hard just thinking about it, his tail swaying across the speckled tiles of battered floor, as he pushed in deeper at the behemoth's direction, fingers snatched in his fur and pressing hard.

"Yeah," he slurred, belching upon some foul broth of booze he had downed perhaps minutes before his decision to corner the wolf, "Lil faggots like you love a real man." It wasn't directed at Floww, but then it didn't need to be. He was lost in the world of stench of sweat and piss. An ill-washed sheath, confined to nasty underwear, left for ripe smells that he could very well just sip from the air in every shallow breath, huffing upon the male's scent as if there could never have been anything else to breathe in his lifetime. His cock was rock hard in his shorts, tenting obscenely against his groin as he couldn't help but just live in that single moment, so intensely aroused, ashamed to be so publicly humiliated, but loving every second he stayed there, face burrowed into another man's crotch, licking at his balls like some pitiful slave to the flesh.

"'nough with the balls... Suck my dick, puff."

Floww was given the freedom to move, the paw leaving his head, but he didn't doubt it would return in a split second the instant he tried anything else. But the Rottweiler wasn't even hard yet, either too intoxicated to get it up easily or maybe the charade of homophobia was more genuine than the wolf suspected. The canine had given him an order though. Whilst he reckoned little would have happened had he refused, had he made a dash for the club and escaped, but something made him stay and comply, even push himself to go further than he might have normally dared. His paws raised up, peeling at the Rottweiler's jeans, tugging them just a little further apart so he could give his crotch some room to breathe. He could feel the very muscle tensing beneath the threads, assuring Floww that he wasn't just some uncouth slob off the street looking for a cheap thrill, he was someone to be reckoned with. The plump sheath though was his focus. With his lips parted, he pushed his muzzle to the tip and kissed the opening. As if he were making out with any other male, the wolf slid his tongue inside the damp, hot confines to tease out the member that lay dormant within.

It was revolting, but Floww found himself easing into the sensation. His tongue oozed against the wet flesh and suckled upon the bitter pre that the male secreted. Coarse fur pricked at his lips as he kept a tight seal, letting the soft skin press against his own muzzle. It was so very moist inside, but he could feel the meat beneath his tongue begin to harden, undeniably reacting to the wolf's taunts. As the Rottweiler thickened, the room for Floww's tongue to glide freely became less and less, until the cock had pinned his tongue inside just as inches began to push at his mouth. He could feel it creeping into him, the canine's erection throbbing as it descended into his body. When he figured it would stop, shy of his throat, further it went, the tip probing down his neck and eliciting a gag. He had to pull back, as much as he tried, but the thug's paw clamped back down against his head and forced him still, his cock hardening to its fullest length as it jutted out his throat. A gasp of panic seized him as his air was cut off, his body resisting the unnatural move, but he wasn't held for very long. The Rottweiler released his grip with a satisfied grunt, Floww pulling back to draw the immense slab of meat from his maw. Thick around like a beer can, maybe just over seven or eight inches, the canine was packing. With one paw he grasped his swelling knot and waggled his cock like some demented snake,

"Betcha love choking on dick, don'tcha? But I reckon you're a dirtier little slut than that, am I right?"

One grappled his head, the other the male's cock; the Rottweiler drew the two together with his paws and smacked his blunt flesh against Floww's face, smearing him with spittle and pre along his cheeks,

"Tell me how much of a bitch you are, faggot."

"I-I'm a bitch, sir..."

"Nah," he snorted, "Nah fuck that. You tell me like you mean it. Or else you don't get what I've got for queers like you."

Floww figured this might have been the point. They had gone too far to turn around or stop now, but pleading and desecrating his own self in front of another man for his own lust, a stranger no less, was a step to far. But the words came tumbling out before he could control himself, as if he didn't even want to resist,

"Please sir," he mewled, nuzzling the fat cock as he ground against his face, "I'm nothing but a slut who wants your big fat cock in me. Please fill me sir."

From above the Rottweiler smirked, a nasally, grim sound caught between a snort and a growl. His whole body seemed to snarl in its own way, shifting and crawling as a shudder ran through his body.

"Now that's what I like to hear. A queer who knows his place."

The canine drew back, his hips taking his cock with him, before he pressed his tip to the wolf's lips. But he didn't push in, even as Floww anticipated the thrust, he just held it there, as if waiting. The wolf tried to move forwards but the dog refused, tightening his grip and keeping his willing boy at a steady length away, joined only by that mere touch of cock to mouth, a shaft divided between them.

"You keep them lips pursed, y'hear?" he declared, grunting, "You waste a single drop and I'm gonna be pissed." There was a giggle, almost too insincere coming from such a brute, "Heh, well, I guess we'll both be 'pissed'." Floww didn't have time to dwell on the comment, not in the brief seconds that followed.

"I only came in here for the John anyway..."

Without warning, scalding piss sputtered into Floww's maw. It took him by surprise, dribbles running out against his lips, but instinct told him to suck down. Only he felt utterly ashamed as he did so. The taste was acrid, too warm to be satisfying, too bitter to be enjoyable. It was rank and dehydrated, almost surely golden were he have seen the stream, but it coursed all into his muzzle. The first gulp he took was by far the worst, and whilst it was no easier to swallow the rest, every convulsion and each draw of urine smacked in his maw and left him with the overwhelming taste of piss. Dry, thick, salty, heaving its way into his body like a torrential rain, the Rottweiler pissing into him as if he were nothing but a urinal to be used. Still he gulped, drinking down the burning liquid. Minutes it drew on, slower and slower than the last, sliding down his throat with an almost cruel languid pace. Floww swore someone had come in halfway through, hearing the door swing open only to be shut again in haste, but he couldn't see, not with him kissing the canine's flesh and sucking down his bladder. He looked up, met the gaze of the thug who held his head firm between meaty paws, their eyes meeting in a dark stare. He knew damn well what he was doing, how awful and humiliating it must have been, but it only seemed to make his dick harder as he pissed into the wolf's stomach fresh from the tap.

Whilst it might have gone on forever, for as much as the Rottweiler seemed to have drank, eventually his stream petered off to a trickle, then drips, then altogether stopped, the dog wiping the last dregs against the wolf's lips for good measure. There was a huff, gruff and indifferent, as the canine roughly tucked his cock away as it began to soften, dressing himself again as if nothing had happened between them at all. Floww just knelt there, piss searing at his gums, lacing his tongue so that every gulp of air tasted of Him. There was no escape from it now, not with the warm bellyful of urine that swelled in his stomach, the slightest of paunches bulging at his abdomen where the piss swam. He was dumbstruck, red burning on his cheeks, as the Rottweiler left him to the chemical stench of the bathroom bleach and the faint aroma of piss in the air, not to mention that which dripped upon his insides.

One paw on the door, the thug took one last look over his shoulder,

"I'll be outside having a ciggy. You want another drink on me, come find me. I could do with a urinal like you on call."

As the door swung shut in his abrupt absence, Floww staggered to his footpaws and numb to his own thoughts followed blindly out of the club, past watching eyes and dirty stares, wandering behind him to the alley where he let the Rottweiler spark a cigarette as he dropped to the muddy cobbles and waited open maw for when he was needed again. And again. And again.