Wrong Number: Chapter 2
Sequel to Wrong Number Chapter 1, first of its name. Commission for Alpha
"Did you finish that assignment for Professor Lyle, Lewis? ...Lewis? Earth to Lewis...!"
"Huh?" Lewis snapped back to reality as he groaned, smearing a hand across his face and trying to concentrate. He was lost in yet another daze, and despite blanking Felix's question, he couldn't help but grin.
"What, are you pregnant or something? You're practically glowing, dude." Felix, the african wild dog, jabbed his friend in the side and the alaskan malamute squirmed a little against his assault.
"Jesus, no," Lewis back, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "I just, uh...met someone. A girl."
"Oh, really? Give me the details." Felix demanded, snapping the book in front of him shut as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand, his elbow against the desk. He stared excitedly into Lewis' eyes and the malamute felt put on the spot.
To be honest, there wasn't all that much to tell. Lewis had met a well-dressed, fairly gothic girl at a party only a couple of weeks ago. Having hung out with her all that night, he was given her phone number, and he'd been texting back and forth with her ever since. Today was a particularly special day in their friendship. At least, it was for Lewis.
"Well, uh, I met her at that party," Lewis began. "We're meeting up for a drink later."
"Look at you! Sliding your way on in there," Felix beamed as he reached out, clasping his friend's shoulder. "Is she good? Cute? Hot?"
"She's nice," Lewis smiled awkwardly, glancing away from Felix just as the wild dog's expression faltered, for just a moment. "I mean, we've kinda been playing it cool over text, you know? Not really giving each other much information. We thought it'd be interesting. I'm kinda excited to see her. Maybe even ask her out."
"Isn't that what this little drink-date is, Lewis?" Felix removed his hand and waggled his eyebrows. "Don't tell me you're that clueless."
"Ah, well..." Now that Lewis thought about it, his friend was probably right-- it was definitely a date of some sort. The mere thought made his stomach twist and he began to feel a little nervous. If this was a date, then maybe he should get a change of clothes or try to look nice. He glanced over at Felix, who offered him nothing more than a wide grin, looking happy for him.
"Relax. You look like a deer in headlights," The canine remarked. "Just be yourself and you'll be fine."
"R-Right. Right..." Lewis trailed off, idly scratching the side of his head. "I hope it goes okay. I really like this girl."
"It will. Trust me," Felix assured him as he looked down at his watch, quickly realising the time. "Shit, it's getting on. Text me later about how it goes, yeah?"
"Oh, right-- see you." The malamute smiled awkwardly as his friend rose. The african wild dog gave him a ruffle on the neck, much to the shorter malamute's dismay, before Felix winked at him and walked off, bag slung around his shoulder and books in hand. Lewis watched him leave for a moment before turning his attention to the matter at hand.
He was meeting up with Amy in about 3 hours or so, so he decided it was probably better to go home and look a little more presentable. He didn't look the part of a prospective boyfriend in his usual awkward baggy hoodie and jeans. Leaving the cafe, he made his way back towards his cramped little dorm room and tried on a few clothes.
He eventually settled in a simple button-up shirt of an otherwise minimalistic design, the entirety of it a matt black colour, contrasting his fluffy white fur. He combed his shaggy mane down in the mirror and smoothed himself out, analysing and scrutinising his own features before reaching for a pair of skinnier jeans. Felix had always quipped and commented that girls like a good ask, and he'd said to Lewis on a few occasions that he had the makings of a good one. He decided to try and show it off a little.
After that, he instinctively reached for his hoodie again, but then paused, stepping away from it. Instead, he opted for a sweater, one that was a little tight and form-fitting. He'd gotten it from his parents last year and it surprisingly still fit him. His mother always had an eye for what suited him.
His phone buzzed, and he turned to answer it, slipping into a seat on his bed as he unlocked his phone, realising that Amy had text him, and he thumbed through the past conversation the two had. It had been relatively benign: they'd talked about classes. It had lead into a small heart-to-heart moment where Lewis had regrettably admitted that he wasn't enjoying his course, even if he was keeping up to date with it. Amy had said she was studying psychology and she was feeling the same way. That little moment of connection had made things a little easier between them, and they had swapped and passed jokes about what they might do if they dropped out of classes and got on with their life.
With a sigh, Lewis rested his head back against the pillows and wondered the same thing again. If he were to drop out of university, where would he go? If he returned home, he knew he wouldn't hear the end of it: as loving as his parents were, they were forceful to a fault-- they wanted him to shine as bright as he were able, and they couldn't excuse any lazy behaviour because of it. Lewis didn't feel lonely, though; he felt bored.
He pushed the thought to the back of his stressed mine and turned his attention back to his phone, flicking down towards the bottom, where the new message had appeared.
'Excited for later?', it read, and a smile tugged against the canine's lips. He reached his own hand down and tapped away rapidly on the phone with his thumbs, quickly replying to the conversation.
'Just picking out something nice to wear. It'll be good to see you again', he replied, sighing and lowering his head back. His stomach fluttered at the thought of the two of them meeting, and his mind went through any number of possibilities on how their conversation would go. His ear twitched nervously before the vibration in his hand brought him back to the screen.
'I'm looking forward to it! I have classes now, but I'll see you soon!', the message read, and Lewis nodded to himself, sending an emoji or two before setting the phone down. He sat up and stroked along his inner thigh, wondering if it were wise to relieve himself before meeting here. He shook his head and scolded himself for thinking he was just a kid. He could control himself, of that he was fairly certain.
The hours rolled by a lot faster than Lewis would have liked, until the fabled moment began to draw closer and closer. With a nervous quiver, Lewis left his dorm and made his way towards the cafe, hands fidgety and heart pounding.
x x x
He was late.
Quinn sat lounging against one of the arguably nicer chairs in the cafe, seated far at the back, with a cup and saucer filled with coffee on the table. His black and grey tail flicked and stroked against the plush fabric of the chair between his legs, and his right paw tapped impatiently on the ground. He felt high-strung, and for good reason.
Rehearsels for their next performance were 2 months away, and his group of actors continually floundered with their lines, complained about their roles, or made excuses not to attend. The entire thing was falling apart around him and he, as new head of the troupe, had an obligation to see it succeed, for the good of the university. His old friend, now graduated last year, had left him in charge of the troupe for the sole reason of bringing the fiery passion to its stage performances, yet every meeting made him more and more doubtful that they could make it.
And now this: his date, which he hoped would relieve some of that stress, was late, by 10 minutes to be exact. The canine pinched the bridge of his snout and sighed, before reaching for his phone and thumbing his way to their conversation. He shot him a text, and breathed a sigh when he got a message back rather promptly.
'On my way!', it said. Well, at least he was committed.
Quinn had been messaging a young fling back and forth for a couple of weeks now. He seemed nervous and coy, but Quinn loved a boy who could play hard to get: as a canine, there was something to relish about the chase and the inevitably capture. He had already coaxed what he guessed to be a freshman into sending him a few tasteful pictures. The man was rather shy, as Quinn could tell from his baggy clothes and awkward way of talking, but his body-- now that was something. He looked so average and inexperienced, to the point where there was something sexy about it... and that fur! Quinn was eager to get a piece of him, and he hoped their meeting today would seal the deal.
Quinn saw him enter in through the front and a smile played across his lips as he sat back, waiting expectantly for the canine to notice him. Quinn had given him instructions on where he was: at the back, in a designer grey jacket.
The boy, a fluffy alaksan malamute, looked helplessly over the crowd for a moment, his eyes grazing across Quinn completely and to the other side of the room. Quinn frowned, and when the canine's eyes lead back towards him, Quinn gestured him to come over. The malamute paused and blinked at him, as if he were utterly clueless. Quinn's more fervent gestures seemed to eventually coax him over.
The malamute stood awkwardly in front of his table, and Quinn offered him a kind smile, batting his eyelashes before gesturing to his jacket.
"U-Uh...sorry, I don't work here." The malamute pointed out, and that made Quinn even more confused.
"I know that. It's me. The jacket, the...you know? I said I'd be here with a jacket." Quinn replied, and the malamute looked him up and down for a moment.
"What? Is this some kind of joke?" The canine grinned, before his smile faltered and he looked around, as if expecting to be on camera for a prank TV show. "Where's Amy?"
"Amy? Who're you talking about?" Quinn sat forwards and found himself unable to fathom the situation. "We've been texting back and forth for two weeks. Who's Amy?"
"She's the girl I've been...texting..." The malamute trailed off as the realisation of what was happening finally hit him, as it hit Quinn.
They had been texting each other.
x x x
Lewis couldn't believe what he was hearing as he stood there, facing the black and grey furred canine who sat leisurely in designer clothing, blinking at him innocently with an air of confusion. The pair of them were at loss for words.
Lewis' mind churned. It all made sense now. Amy-- no, this man-- was always so secretive and never gave anything away. He never mentioned anything about himself or who he was; he always skirted around any personal questions like that. Lewis had just thought she, rather he, was being coy and playing hard to get, so he had done the same. Now he realised that it was because this man was lying to him, messing with his head the entire time.
"...Who set you up to this?" Lewis squared his jaw as the canine in front of him looked incredulous, leaning back in his seat, his eyes wide.
"Set me up? What are you talking about?" He exclaimed, albeit quietly so as not to make a scene. "I thought I was meeting up with a cute g--"
"Shut up," Lewis snarled out, perhaps a little too loudly. "Just shut the fuck up."
He had never felt such quivering anger, mixed with such bitter shame. He could feel his body trembling, his fists clenched as he tried to compose himself. Through that frustration and anger came a wave of emotion that he couldn't control, that bubbled to the surface. He could feel the burning of his cheeks and a sudden rush that swept up to his eyes. He felt tears brimming in his eyes and the canine in front of him faltered, his face dropping at the malamute's sudden teary expression.
He didn't know what to say. He couldn't even begin to conjure up the words he wanted to say how he felt. Instead, all he could do was run.
He bolted from the cafe, heading straight for his dorm room as he briskly tried to wipe his face, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact with anyone. He couldn't even begin to think of what to say to Felix, to anyone else who asked about the meeting. What could he say, other than that he had been deceived and taken for a fool, and so easily too?
When he made it back to the dorm, he slammed the door shut behind him and pressed his back up against it, sliding himself down and pressing himself against the door. A groan escaped his lips as he pushed his head down against his knees. He felt the tears rushing to his face again and quietly scolded himself. He shouldn't be this upset. Yet, he was.
He spent the better part of 2 hours slumped in misery, unable to pull himself up off the floor. He wanted to stay there forever, to shut out the world. His thoughts continued to swim and focus on the deception, the lies. He relived that moment staring at the canine over and over again, until the man's very face was etched into his soul.
Part of him thought he couldn't trust anyone again. The other part of him thought himself stupid for getting so worked up over such a small lie, yet he couldn't free himself from the constricting feeling around his heart. Eventually, he breathed a long sigh and rolled his head back.
He knew he couldn't wallow forever, if only because he had people looking out for him. Felix would, no doubt, come finding him if he didn't text or turn up any point. At the moment that he thought of his friend, his phone buzzed. A flash of anger washed through him as he thought it might be that liar again, but to his surprise, it was Felix himself. He unlocked his phone and had a look.
'Wanna meet up for drinks?', it said. 'My friend's going out to the club and he's invited us.'
Lewis didn't know very many of Felix's friends. Though Lewis considered him to be his best friend, he sometimes got the impression that the feeling wasn't mutual, especially at times like these. It was nice to be invited to something, however; maybe going out and having a drink or two would help him forget about what had happened only a couple of hours ago. He sent over his agreement before dragging himself to his feet.
He hadn't the confidence to wear anything appropriate, so instead, he yanked off his shirt and jumper and put on a loose T-Shirt and his usual, baggy hoodie, unable to bring himself to wear anything else. He enjoyed the comfort of that one article of clothing that allowed him to hide. With that, he adjusted himself and grabbed his wallet. He might as well make the most of it.
Felix met up with him on campus, and the two of them made their way towards the bar that Felix and his friends typically liked to frequent, one that was near enough to campus to be within walking distance, and near enough to the centre of the city to attract the usual locals. During the journey, Felix consistently asked him how it went on his little drink-date and Lewis did his best to skirt around the situation, hiding how he felt about it. Felix eventually got the gist of him avoiding the conversation and gave his friend a look the could be best described as empathetic, before he patted his shoulder and dropped the subject.
They reached the bar and the first thing Lewis could think to do was order drink after drink, downing shots and sipping pints alike. Felix was responsible enough to make sure he didn't have too much, but Lewis didn't drink often. Even when Felix was limited what his friend was having, Lewis still got pretty tipsy after not too long.
THey were barely an hour into drink and chatting-- which primarily involved Felix talking to his friends whilst Lewis idly watched them, keeping to himself-- Felix and his friends decided to move elsewhere. From what little of the conversation that Lewis picked up, one of Felix's acquaintances was having a little party at their place. 'Nothing big', they said.
Yet, to Lewis' surprise, the place was packed with people when they arrived. What was meant to be a 'little' party was definitely something more than that, but Lewis was far too tipsy to care. Against his better judgement, and to Felix's disapproval, the malamute made his way inside and straight to the kitchen.
"D-Don't you think you've had a lot of already?" Felix, it appeared, had followed him. "Did something happen?"
"I just want to have a good time. Can I have a good time?" Lewis snapped, perhaps a little to harshly, before sighing through his nose. "Can we, uh, just talk about this later?"
"...Okay. I'll come find you later and take you home if you end up too pissed." Felix wavered for a moment, watching him, before he patted Lewis' shoulder and left him to it.
With that, Lewis reached for a bottle and drunk straight from it, caring little for how people looked at him. A little drink would help him forget what happened, of that he was sure.
One small bottle of beer became two, then three. Soon, his previous tipsy state had become full on drunk as he staggered around the house, his head spinning, his speech slurred. He moved his way through the crowd of people and towards the living room, hoping he might be able to take a seat somewhere and just pass out. At least then he could forget, f only for a few hours.
Fate, however, had something else in store for him. As he rounded the corner towards the living room, he bumped into someone, who was a little taller than him and a mixture of black and grey fur.
"...Oh, it's you."
They spoke pleasantly, but there was an awkwardness to his tone. Lewis sluggishly raised his head, his vision blurry as he focused on the grimacing face, their distinctive features.
It was then that Lewis realised, in his drunken state, that the person standing before him was the same man from before, who had tricked him for more than 2 weeks.
Even drunk, Lewis didn't want to make a scene. His eyes widened at the sight of the canine and he turned from him. Now. Why now of all times? He felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately shrugged it off as he staggered forwards, shouldering his way past people. He found himself at the stairs and a wave of nausea washed over him. He couldn't handle this.
Suddenly, he found himself in the bathroom, but he couldn't remember how he got there. The wave of nausea worsened as he was forced to hunch over the toilet and expel what he had within his stomach.
Moments later, he wiped his mouth and flushed, leaning himself up against the wall and groaning quietly to himself, resting against the cool tiles. That man...he was here too. He wished he could hide within the bathroom forever, but shortly after he sad down, someone knocked and said they wanted to use it.
He couldn't stay here. He had to go home. Feeling a little more sober, he yanked the door open and a slender feline slipped in behind him as he left. As he staggered to the side, he felt another hand on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw the black and grey canine out the corner of his eye. His nose wrinkled in a mixture of anger and sadness before he looked away.
"Hey, c'mon," The man began. "I feel bad about about what happened, our misunderstanding..."
"That's not what I'd call it." Lewis spat, sluggishly leaning against the wall as the hand on his shoulder gripped a bit harder.
"Call it what you want, but it's clearly eating at you. I'm sorry. Look, I'm Quinn. At least let me take you home, okay? You're in no state to walk back on your own."
"I think I'll be better off on my own than with you." His voice slurred just a little bit as he stepped away from the man, making his way down the stairs, albeit slowly. By the time he reached the bottom, he could already see the canine following him.
Ignoring him, Lewis made his way to the door, and the malamute stumbled and staggered his way down the porch steps. He heard the man's scuffling feet behind him and the young malamute grew continuously more annoyed the further he walked.
"Just leave me al--" He began as his foot stumbled on the pavement as he tripped, falling flat on his face. He grunted and squirmed for a moment before dragging himself up onto his knees. He felt a hand under his arm and unintentionally relied on it to stand, staggering a little as he went.
"You're a mess," The other canine remarked with a sigh. "Come on, let's go. I'm not taking no for an answer."
"Fuck you." Lewis muttered, but found himself leaning on Quinn regardless. His body felt weak and feeble. Quinn shouldered him along towards the path and turned, guiding the drunken malamute down the road.
For the longest time, they walked and staggered in silence. Neither of them knew what to say. Both of them were too awkward to even discuss it. Lewis wasn't even paying attention to where he was going: he was letting Quinn blindly lead him wherever. if he was coherent enough to pay attention, he would have walked on his own.
"S...So..." Quinn began awkwardly. "Um...I didn't know you thought you were talking to a girl. I thought you were playing hard to get, so I did the same."
"The hell are you talking about?" Lewis grunted. "I thought you were doing the same, so I did..."
There was a silence between them for a moment, before Quinn began to chuckle.
"Now that I look at it, that's really fucking stupid." He pointed out, and Lewis sighed, dipping his head.
"Amy probably thinks I don't like her..." Lewis grumbled begrudgingly and Quinn did his best to prop the canine up a little, hoping he might be feeling more sober with time.
"Have you tried texting her? Hell, how do you even know you like her?" Quinn asked.
"We met at a party and hit it off. She was super nice and gave me her number. Then we talked for a while a-- Oh wait, that was you." Lewis was having a hard time separating the lies from the truth when it came to Quinn. Now he felt even more confused: he got to know a lot about 'Amy' when he spoke to her, but in actual fact, it was Quinn that he was talking to. So who was it that he really liked?
No. He couldn't think like that. He was straight, he knew that to be true.
"Hm. Well, I won't tell you how to live your life..." Quinn trailed off, leading young Lewis past the university campus. Quinn had an apartment nearby that he stayed in. It would be better than the cramped space people were often given on campus. Lewis was too out of it, too drunk to even notice. By the time they reached the block of flats not too far away, Lewis was a little more sluggish than before.
"Let's get inside and get you some water, alright?" Quinn suggested, leading him up the steps to his door. He fumbled for his keys and eventually found him, twisting them in the lock and shouldering the door open, carrying Lewis through.
If Lewis was even remotely sober, he might have paid attention to what was around him. As it was, he was happy to be lead along, and Quinn eventually eased him onto the couch. The malamute flopped lazily down against the fabric, his head spinning a little. His vision focused on the canine standing over him and his eyes narrowed, glaring at him.
"I still don't like you." The malamute grunted, and Quinn tutted quietly, turning from him.
"Scowling isn't an attractive look on you, puppy." He teased. Quinn was a good 2 years older than him, so he had every right to act like a senior. Lewis clearly didn't enjoy the treatment as a snarl escaped his lips, but when he sat up to retort, he felt another wave of nausea. He eased himself back again, not wanting to vomit for a second time that night.
Quinn wordlessly returned with a plastic cup and he handed it over. Lewis held it gingerly between his hands and gulped, downing the cup within a matter of seconds. The hydration helped somewhat and he didn't feel so sick anymore. He felt a weight next to him and he eyed the canine from the side, watching the way the canine sat next to him.
"Sorry that I didn't take you home," Quinn began. "You were out of it and I didn't know where you lived. You can crash here for the night...do you have anyone to call?"
"I'm not a kid," Lewis grunted, before sniffing harshly through his nose. "...I'll text my friend."
"Okay." Quinn nodded and the two of them sat there awkwardly, unsure what else to say. Lewis wanted to feel angry, but he was drunk, and all he could feel was a weird numbness. The more time he spent with Quinn, the less he felt bad. Quinn reminded him of the texts he'd shared with Amy-- though, to be fair, that was Quinn all along. The grey and black canine tapped his feet impatiently and fidgeted his hands as Lewis dug into his pocket for his phone, tapping away on the screen to Felix. 'Met friend. Crashing here. Text tomorrow'. He managed to type out without making too many mistakes. His thumb slipped over the send key and he sent a few emojis with it by accident. It'd be fine.
"Look..." Quinn began again in that same tone he'd used before. "Really, truly, I'm sorry. I don't like to upset people...especially people who are just trying to find their way."
"I'm not a charity." Lewis defiantly puffed out his chest, as if he were trying to prove his independence. He'd done the same thing with his parents before.
"I know that. I get it. I just feel bad." Quinn muttered in response and Lewis clenched his fists, torn between annoyance and acceptance.
"I..." The malamute began, before he sighed. "It's fine. I get it. It was just...really poor communication on both sides."
Quinn's eyes widened at the malamute's acceptance, but he was aware that it would take more than that to get over such a grand mess. Lewis knew that too-- he was only willing to be forgiving because he was a little drunk. The malamute reached for his phone again, but his clumsy drunken hands slipped on the casing. It flew from his grip and fell between his legs, bouncing off the couch and onto the floor by his feet.
"I'll get it." Quinn offered, aware that the 20 year old was likely a little nauseous. He leant himself down, dipping a hand between the malamute's legs until his head was mere inches from the man's crotch, with his head turned away, of course. His fingers met with Lewis' phone and he slowly raised himself up, turning his head towards the malamute's face. They were inches from each other.
"Here..." Quinn mumbled, placing the phone on Lewis' lap, his hand lingering there perhaps a little longer than necessary. Lewis stared at him, wide-eyed, his breathing slow and gentle, his heartbeat quickening. Quinn was pretty. What was he thinking? What was this feeling?
Neither of them said a word for a moment, before Quinn started to tilt his head, angling himself as his head drew closer. Their lips grazed each other, for just a split second, before Lewis' hand snapped up and pressed against Quinn's chest. He pushed him backwards, away from him, yet his mouth still followed Quinn's own, as if mind and his body were fighting against each other. Quinn didn't back off, nor did he pressed closer. He felt those fingers curling around his chest and he reached a hand up to meet it with his own, touching the malamute's skin.
Taking the plunge, he pressed his mouth forwards, and the two canine's met in a sensual kiss. If Lewis had been sober, he would have stopped by now, but he felt compelled to continued. He felt Quinn's tongue against his teeth, slipping in past them to touch against his own appendage, their warm tongues lapping against one-another. Quinn adjusted himself and moved over Lewis just a little, pushing his head down further as he grazed a free hand along the malamute's inner thigh.
Lewis couldn't resist letting out a quiet groan, tugging Quinn closer as the grey and black furred canine curled his other arm around Lewis' body, pushing him down against the length of the couch. Lewis' body instinctively reacted and he tucked his legs up so that he was laying flat against the couch, his back pressed against the cushions. Quinn towered over him for a moment before their lips met again.
Lewis didn't know what he was thinking, but deep down, he wanted this. There was something so freeing about just letting his mind wander and letting his body take over, about not having to worry about what others thought, what he thought about himself, and just indulging. He felt Quinn's hand snake up underneath his hoodie, stroking along his stomach and against his fur. Lewis found himself moving his hands clumsily down, jabbing into the waistband of Quinn's jeans and sliding them down over his rounded, average cheeks.
Quinn let out a quiet little growl that made Lewis shudder, and he felt those fingers curling against his flesh, felt the warmth of the canine's package pressing up against his body. Lewis' hands squeezed and gripped Quinn's delicate behind thought his underwear as the canine above him shuffled and squirmed, eventually managing to slip the jeans off his feet. Quinn's hands moved down, expertly popping the button of Lewis' pants and slowly sliding the zipper down. He parted his lips from Lewis and ran his mouth over the malamute's neck. Even if Lewis didn't want to admit it, it was nice, and Quinn was extraordinarily hot.
"Do you wanna fuck me?" Quinn spoke rather quickly, his breathing heavy. Lewis stammered for a moment in his drunken state, unable to wrap his head around such simple words.
"W-What?" He eventually managed to say as he felt Quinn's hands reaching up to his waist, sliding his jeans down and taking the underwear with them.
"I said, do you want to fuck me?" Quinn repeated himself, as if he were encouraging Lewis and getting him riled up. The malamute couldn't stop himself from letting out a quiet groan as he dug his fingers against the ripe, taut flesh of Quinn's backside.
"Please." He uttered the single word, and that was all that Quinn needed to hear. He reached up to slid down his own underwear and the light above them illuminated the canine's aroused cock, the length of his knotted member sliding from its sheath, the knot already forming within it. He slipped his elastic underwear past his hips and down to his knees, before arching his legs up to slip it off his feet with ease. He snapped the malamute's legs shut as he straddled over him, pressing the weight of his behind down against the canine's upper pelvis.
"Fuck me. Do it." Quinn demanded in a husky tone as he dipped his head down, nuzzling and lapping his tongue along the canine's head as Lewis panicked a little, moving his hands down to slide his pants back a little further, revealing his sheath and the tip that poked from it. Lewis cocked a leg down, his toes meeting the floor as he squatted awkwardly with his other foot, pushing his ass down against the swelling sheath and gently grinding it back and forth. Lewis had his drunken, lustful eyes fixated on Quinn's cock and he wrapped his hand around it, groaning under his breath as the sheer warmth that spread across his fingers, his own sheath rapidly reacting as his cock hardened and slipped forth.
Quinn muttered something under his breath as he let out a long sigh, the knotted cock gently oozing pre-cum as Lewis gave it a few clumsy strokes, finding his first time to be a bit of a haphazard mess. He began to wildly pant to himself as he jerked and tugged the cock front of him, his own member already at half mast and steadily rising. Quinn reached down and placed a hand on his wrist, dragging him away for a moment and back to reality, albeit it with some difficulty.
"Spit on your hand." Quinn ordered, and the malamute nodded, leaning forwards and spitting onto his palm. Quinn guided his hand towards the malamute's cock and Lewis quickly understood, smearing his member with his own spit. He coated his length in the spittle before angling it up, watching with wide eyes as Quinn squatted himself down, his pucker meeting with the tapered end of the malamute's rigid cock.
A groan escaped Lewis' lips as his member was swallowed up by the squeezing behind, his cock sinking deeper and deeper with every inch until Quinn's behind met with the thick, bulbous knot, letting it push up against his clamping behind. Quinn sighed in bliss and Lewis violently trembled beneath him, overcome with an insane, spine-tingling pleasure. He reached his hands up and cupped Quinn's hips, whimpering and whining under his breath. Slowly, Quinn eased himself up, before lowering down again, beginning to ride his one-night-stand's cock.
Lewis began to squirm almost instantly, his tongue lolled from his mouth, his breathing heavy and panting as Quinn bounced himself atop his cock. His fingers dug into Quinn's flesh as he tried to buck his own hips, feeling the pleasure heightening with every thrust. Quinn's insides were so warm, so delicately tight. Even Quinn could see that the malamute wasn't going to last long. In that moment, Lewis was losing his virginity, though he likely wasn't even going to remember it. Quinn felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly drowned out by his own pleasure, his own carnal need to have sex.
"H-Hhnn..." Lewis groaned quietly and sat up a little, thrusting up harder and harder as his body suddenly shuddered and a long, plentiful sigh escaped his lips. Quinn didn't realise it until it was too late, and his eyes widened when he felt the warm, vivid pulsing of the malamute's cock and the warmth that spread across his loins. He pushed his hips down and Lewis let out a whimper of bliss, his balls tucked up firmly against his body. It had taken him barely a minute, but the pent-up canine had already orgasmed, and rather potently, too.
"There's a good puppy..." Quinn teased, stroking along the malamute's chest. Lewis sighed and he stroked his hands affectionately across Quinn's hips, his eyes closed and his muzzle curled into a grin. With a sigh, Quinn nestled himself down and he felt the malamute's arms curl around him as Quinn lay atop him.
Before either of them realised it, they had already started to drift off into a cosy slumber.
x x x
Lewis woke up the next morning to a pounding, unbearable headache.
The room span. Nausea flowed through him like a thick, viscous wave. With a groan, the canine sat up and found himself on the floor of an unfamiliar apartment. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know who he was with.
He rolled, covering his eyes as he stepped to his feet, feeling that wave of sickness again. Resisting the urge to vomit, he staggered around the tiny studio apartment and over towards a small kitchenette, its entrance a tiny door. He stepped through and into a cool tiled kitchen, and quickly ran the tap, splashing his face and cupping his hands to take a few fervent gulps of water.
He sobered a little, his breathing low and heavy as he began to wake, just a little. His legs felt cool, and he looked down to find himself naked, his sheath bouncing to and fro amongst his fluffy, unkempt fur. He smeared a hand across his face and tried to remember what happened last night. He remembered Felix. Remembered going to a party, but after that? Nothing.
His phone. He needed his phone. He turned and peeked through a slit that separated the kitchenette and the main area of the apartment. Through that hole, he saw his pants and underwear strewn on the floor near a coffee table, which his phone sat upon. Laying across the couch was a black and grey canine, the object of his hate. He felt a new sudden wave of sickness when he saw the canine's naked lower half.
Oh god. What had he done?