FSE

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[PART 2 OF 3]

[PREVIOUS]

Edited by wellifimust

---

Basil's eyes shot wide open as the touch of the wolf galvanized his muscles. From the paw covering his muzzle to the stiffness swelling against his thigh, he gaped at the wolf who was surely impersonating his straight friend. Basil shifted away and scrutinized Larry's neutral expression.

"Wha...?" Basil stuttered, "What the fuck!?"

Larry inspected him, perplexed. "What about it?"

"What do you mean, 'what about it'? The hell are you..." The caribou leered disconcertedly at Larry's erection, just as real and hard as it felt against him.

"I'm helping." Larry frowned. "You said you've been dick-less for two years!"

"I said I haven't fucked in two years, but..." he gesticulated at Larry's hard-on. "Why?"

The lupine pulled his paws from Basil's shoulders and sat back to the side. "I...okay. I'm sorry, dude." He sighed, tail dropping. "Aw, fuck. Can I get canceled for that shit?"

Basil's head was spinning, and his muzzle slack-jawed for a moment before he tossed it up and barked into laughter.

Larry glowered. "Huh?"

The mystified caribou trembled and slapped a paw to his eyes. "You...you just...holy shit!" He gasped for breath as he wiped across his face. "Dude, you could've just told me you're gay!"

Larry scoffed. "I wouldn't call myself gay."

Basil shook his head and leaned forward, still chuckling. "Okay, but I told you I like dick and you just come over and...and do that," Basil stammered, "and then you're just...surprised!?"

"It was...I mean..." Larry's face lowered. "I thought it was foreplay."

Basil stared in silence with his eyebrows creased and his mouth ajar.

"I'm hot," the athletic wolf began, and faltered when Basil burst out again in laughter. "I've had other dudes tell me that before, not just chicks. I thought, like, hey, you're my linemate, and you like dicks. I've got a dick, so there's a market demand."

"Where did you get that from!?"

"My business major," Larry answered, cracking a smile. "Anyways," he waved a paw dismissively, "it's whatever. Spur of the moment. You were just talking about dicks and I was like, 'Yeah, I can see it.'"

Basil hesitated for a second until he inhaled the masculine scent of this aroused wolf. Was he supposed to reject this, as a captain? He peered at Larry's lowering erection. "Well..." Basil idly picked at the sheet below him. "I'm not really against you doing something like that, in theory. Assuming you said something beforehand."

"Good," Larry breathed in relief, "because if you said 'No' thinking I'm not your type, then it'd definitely be a problem with you and not me." Larry sailed a faux-cocky grin at Basil. "I'm everyone's type!"

Basil took in the flirtatious look. "You might be my type," he mused, attempting the same carefree demeanor as Larry.

"Yes," Larry urged, "and?"

"And...when you joined the team last year...I, uh," He smiled sheepishly. "I really noticed that."

Larry threw his paws up and smiled. "I'm flattered! And I would say," Larry spoke, leaning closer, "that you're a cool enough guy to fuck."

The thought hung in the air between the two. After a moment, Larry sat straight again, still maintaining his grin.

Basil blinked at Larry incredulously. "And you're really not gay?"

"I just like asses," Larry answered immediately.

Basil let the statement endure before he tapped one of his antlers idly. "Well, I say 'Mr. Ass-sexual' needs to learn some foreplay."

Larry narrowed his eyes. "Hey! I--"

"You came over here to shove your dick against me." Basil elaborated, slipping a paw in his waistband and dragging it down a fraction. "So, why don'tcha do some more?"

Larry hesitated for a moment, cracking his mouth open while formulating a response, until Basil leaned forward and licked across his muzzle. The excited reindeer shuffled closer and washed his tongue over the grey fur once more, chasing down the length of Larry's whiskers before pulling away to look him in the eyes.

"Basil," Larry simpered, "I've--mmmh!"

Basil shoved his tongue into Larry's mouth, locking the mismatched muzzles of the two together as their snouts pressed into each other's fur. In response, Larry situated a paw on Basil's ass and tugged him further into the kiss.

Larry snickered and broke the bond. "Damn, you're better than most girls," he panted.

"Most?" Basil inquired.

Larry's lazily wagging tail matched his satisfied grin. "Most girls have some recent experience."

"I've got the muscle memory, though!"

"Yeah, well," Larry stuck his palms out beneath his chest, squeezing at the air and altering his voice to match Jet's accent. "'Most girls also have big titties!'" he ribbed. "That's a bit of an advantage!"

Basil sneered, teasingly. "Not to me!"

The eager caribou crawled down to his partner's legs and unfastened the zipper on the jeans. As he dragged Larry's underwear down with his pants, he trailed a paw inside to feel around the erect wolf.

"Damn, you're fuckin' steel," Basil growled lustfully.

Larry winked, resting his paws behind his head. His tail wagged from his side when he focused a greedy eye on his partner's ass.

Basil spread his paws on Larry's thighs and rubbed deep into his fur. When the lupine gasped sensually, Basil wrapped a paw around the wolf's cock and pumped it a number of times, forcing the sound to lower into a growl.

"Rrr..." rumbled Larry, "haven't come in two days."

Basil met Larry's pristine green eyes. "Pawing?"

"Nah. Had a vixen. She didn't jerk me off; I just beat that pussy."

"I bet she wouldn't do this," Basil grunted, diving down muzzle-first on the dick and bobbing steadily. A minute later, Larry reached out to clench his antlers.

"Got lube in my bag," Larry interrupted. "Is it the same for girls and guys?"

Basil met his eyes and slid his way off. He rubbed around the base of one of his antlers and stood, treading to the duffel bag lying beside Larry's bed. "Which type?"

"Uh, silicone, I think? Got condoms in the front."

"Good wolf."

When Basil turned, Larry was stroking his length slowly with half-lidded eyes, lying back on the bed with his right arm bent under his head, showing off a bulging bicep.

Basil met his smile as he trod back, ripping open the package and then applying the rubber to Larry. Through a groan, Larry reached out a paw and laid it on Basil's arm. "Hey, wait. Let me take charge."

"What?"

"Yeah. I've done girls up the ass before, so I think I know how this works." He stood up and strode behind the hesitant caribou.

Basil frowned. "Okay, but I'm the one getting a dick in my ass here. Just take it slow, all right?"

"Mhm," Larry breathed, with his paws spreading Basil's ass. "Fuck, your ass is kino."

"The fuck does that--oh, Christ..."

The keen wolf gingerly urged his glans into Basil's hole. "How we feelin'?"

"I'm good, just..." Basil fidgeted for a second. "Give me a sec."

"Okay."

Basil breathed steadily and rested his arms on the comforter. "Whew. Keep going."

Larry slid his cock further into Basil until he sharply inhaled. Larry's ears bent awry. "You good, dude?"

"Yeah," Basil uttered, "I'm getting there."

"It's cool though," Larry exhaled, "if this would fuck up your skating tomorrow then I could put it in your mouth."

"Nah."

"I'm sure if the ref knew you could suck his dick he'd give us better calls..."

"You're a pain in the ass!" Basil hissed. The sly wolf snickered, causing Basil to snort. "Oh, fuck you!"

"Ironic, coming from you!" Larry joked, sliding a bit more length into his friend, who tightly gripped the edges of a pillow.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Basil muttered, "fuck me, then!"

"That's what I like to hear!"

The wolf began with some slow thrusts, running a paw experimentally across one of Basil's thighs. After further loosening Basil up, Larry threw his right leg up onto the bed for leverage and grabbed between Basil's legs.

Basil glanced back at the concentrated wolf, who grinned goofily. "Your dick's pretty big," Larry murmured.

"Oh..." Basil muttered, "thanks!"

"Bet I could get you off first!" Larry taunted before he rapidly slid his hand along the length, eliciting a pleasured grunt from Basil's muzzle as he eased further against Larry.

Finally, the moment sank in for Basil. The spontaneity of the act and the robust scent of the wolf spread into warmth through his body.

"Fuckin' hell," Basil groaned, the masculine veil in his tone wearing thin, "shit, Larry..."

"Mmm...I'd tell you to say my name," Larry bent down and shoved his muzzle over Basil's shoulder, squeezing the submissive caribou, "but it sounds like this bitch already knows his place!"

Basil choked down a grunt and climaxed through laboured breath, gripping himself against the hold of Larry while the wolf shut his eyes and tucked his head down. After a moment, Larry rose, placed both paws on Basil's hips, shuddered, and cried, "Jesus fuck!"

The euphoric wolf pulled out with a heaving pant and dropped onto the bed beside Basil. After the two caught their breath, Basil flipped himself over on the stained sheets to meet Larry's glowing green eyes. "'Jesus fuck'?"

"Shut up."

Basil beamed while Larry peeled the full condom off of his dick. "Nah, it was fun," Basil grumbled in the afterglow, resuming some of his macho demeanor, "you're a good dick."

Larry gazed inquisitively as he cleaned himself up. "I'm just a 'good dick'?"

"And I'm just a bitch?"

"Oh," The serene wolf grinned toothily and tossed the used condom in the trash by the nightstand. "I didn't mean the 'bitch' thing. I was just horny, that's all."

"Boys," Basil sighed. "All right, you're cute."

Larry hopped onto the bed abruptly and embraced Basil from the front. "I think you mean I'm handsome."

"That too."

"Yeah." Larry glanced down at the sensitive cocks rubbing together. "Hey, our balls are touching! You're gay."

Basil scoffed. "I think you mean you're gay!"

"Nah," Larry spoke as he sniffed around the muzzle of this new man he was being intimate with. "Just a bit curious. And," he continued when Basil opened his muzzle, "hey, that was fun! Not quite like good pussy, but you squeal like one."

"No way! You're a--mmf!"

Larry pressed his muzzle against Basil's, then shot him a grin while his tail loudly slapped against the bed.

---

Torus shaped roars from the crowd exploded under the championship banners above at the referee's extended arm like it held the world's most prized trophy. Five navy uniforms gathered at the glass in the corner to celebrate, while players clad in white and olive green skated solemnly back to their bench.

A moment later, a forceful voice rang over the P.A. "Colonels goal, scored by number fifty-two: Ben Dwyer!"

"Fuckin' hell," squwaked Jet, lifting his injured leg gingerly on the boards with a white wing, stumbling over, and dropping himself onto the bench.

Larry used the door instead. "We're still up, bro!"

"By one. And we've got..." the slow eagle glanced up at the jumbotron, and then paused before continuing, "twenty-four minutes left to keep it that way!"

"Not unless we knock in another quick one!"

Coach Wilbur ambled behind them. "Pretty hard to do when they're hemming us in! Here, guys, look--"

"Listen, Fangs!" Jet spat, "I know you're one of the new age bullshit kids. I get it. You love offence. You love scorin'. But you were miles up on that last play and--"

"I almost set up a goal!" Larry cried.

"But ya didn't! And that cost us a goal!"

Basil shot his head up from Jet's other side. "Hey, we fucked up, too!"

"What? " Jet scoffed. "Larry got caught behind the net! We were right on our men!"

Wilbur waved between the trio with a small dry-erase board, displaying an ice rink diagram with a play drawn on it. He cleared his throat. "Hey, Jet, you weren't playing close enough to stop that cross-ice pass, so quit blaming your teammates or you won't be back out until the third."

"I'm not!" Jet certified. "I'm just pointing out where we can tighten up on our game!"

"Here's where," Wilbur began, scribbling positional lines on the board, "when one of you has it behind the net, I want a winger to step up on their side and the remaining forward to drop back so Mike can pinch if he has to."

Jet's eyes pierced his coach's. "I don't like that. We're feedin' passes back only to take shots where they can block them?"

"We're feeding passes back to keep possession!" the coach growled. "Did you see that last play!? They put three guys on Larry! He could've gotten decked if he hadn't kept his head up."

"I always keep my head up!" Larry declared. He grinned at a stoic Basil.

Jet's eyes narrowed. "Maybe you shoulda kept your goddamn head up before firing a pass right onto fuckin' Colonel tape!"

"You guys weren't on the boards, and Basil was wide open."

"I was right there!"

"Boys!" Basil yelled loud enough to silence the two, though the piercing whistle for the next play prompted him to quiet down. "We're getting nowhere. Lesson learned, coach drew it up."

Jet's beak twisted into a crude curve and groaned loudly. "Oh, of course! Here's Captain Basil back to suck Larry's dick!"

Wilbur's voice came sharply. "Let's cool it with the bitching, ninety-four. Larry's your teammate, Basil's your captain, and if you don't sit right there with your mouth shut until I say to open it, you'll be there for the rest of the game."

Jet snapped his beak shut and blankly stared forward at the play.

In line with Larry's optimism, the Legion lead held late into the third, added onto by a fourth goal in soaring into Cleveland's empty net with seconds remaining. The victorious Legion hopped over the boards and rushed to congratulate their goaltender. Amidst the quiet home crowd, London cheered briefly on the rink before retreating to the dressing room.

"Back on track!" Wilbur applauded the hollering team. "That's some solid sixty minute hockey, boys! Remember our fight quote? Legion! Today, we came, saw, and conquered!"

Basil glowed at the bustling locker room. "Hundred percent!" he called above the ruckus. "We played a goddamn game out there, but no one had our back like Ziggy!"

"My gratitude extended," responded the eccentric otter candidly to more testosterone-induced cheers, "I feel like I have achieved my third stage of metamorphosis. However, as the layman announcer may phrase it, 'The best defence is indeed a formidable offence!'"

"Fuck yeah, I think!" Brandon shouted. "But shit! My goal was like, ninety-percent you, Baz."

Basil grinned fondly at Larry now that conversation was picking up around them again. "Larry was in on it too."

"Take the compliment, dude!" Larry shot back.

"All right, yeah, I made a hell of a play."

Larry's smile radiated to Basil. "Hell yeah you did, dude!" The ecstatic wolf raised an eyebrow. "We'll need more of that magic on Friday!"

---

Basil cursed the schedule as he laid back on the stiff mattress, the hum of the bus's engine preventing his transition to sleep. It was a pleasure to end any losing streak, no matter how brief, and this typically carried a relaxed attitude back home for the team after a road trip. However, reminiscence of the past night flooded Basil's mind.

After embracing and kissing across each other's muzzles, Larry rubbed between Basil's antlers and retreated back to his own bed, flipping up the sound on the TV like nothing had happened. When they turned in, Larry grinned across the nightstand and uttered a soft, "G'night!" before flicking the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. Basil, lying over a bed sheet covering his mess, tossed and turned until he rose the next morning to realize it all wasn't a dream. Larry's approach to the situation seemed paradoxically surreal to the confused caribou.

If Larry wanted to sleep in the same bed, he would've offered, right? Basil rationalized, Should I have offered? Was he afraid to? Was he waiting for me to?

Basil quietly slipped open his curtain and glanced down the hall of the bus. Most bunks remained still with closed curtains, though a few players watched TV idly, or played on their phones.

Basil sat up and descended the ladder towards the floor. Plodding along the carpet, he made his way to the minifridge towards the front of the vehicle, across from which a pair of avians played a card game quietly. As Basil bent down and tugged the door handle, a thin ray of light broadened across the dull, green floor. He grasped arduously into the white abyss until his paw rested on a plastic container carrying a solitary bag of chocolate milk. With slightly more composure, Basil grabbed a glass to pour some of the liquid into.

"Hey, is that bagged milk?" murmured a Finnish accent behind the drowsy caribou. "You Canadians are fuckin' weird." Oskari trod to Basil's side. "Pour me a glass too, eh?"

Basil wordlessly prepared a second for the lynx, who accepted the glass with a nod and leaned back casually against the dark navy of the bus's wall. "Can't sleep?"

"Hardly been trying," Basil lied.

"Ah. Well, I can't." Oskari's eyes slid away as he translated in his head. "Never had these nights back home. Everything's so far away on this side of the ocean. We spend four hours traveling to the furthest team, not one of the closest."

Basil grinned. "It's easier for the major leaguers. They've got jets and shit."

"Ha, that'll be nice. I'm fuckin' sick of hotels."

"Yeah, I guess it can be rough on the road." Basil searched the lynx's eyes. "You got any family here?"

Oskari shrugged. "No. They're coming here to watch us around Christmas, though."

"Ah, cool!"

"Yep, and hopefully I'll be in the NHA in a couple years," the lynx fantasized, "given they stay short on centre depth."

Basil snorted. "Call me when they need more than one new winger."

"Oh, ha ha!" Oskari's muzzle spread wide. "They're pretty stacked there, I hear."

"Yep. But..." Basil took a deep breath, "even if I do get the call one day, I'm still a bit afraid of just being a depth guy when I get there. Is that so weird?"

"Nah, we all want the best job," Oskari shrugged, then suddenly sat up. "Oh! Hey, Larry!"

The slight wolf sidled up to the pair and gave Basil a standard one-armed bro-hug. "Heya! Gay dude rendezvous happening over here?"

"What? No!" Oskari laughed while Basil clutched his glass tighter.

Larry straightened. "But yeah, dude, I'd love you to see you move up someday too. Jet's a 'real fuckin' player'," he impersonated Coach Wilbur before lowering his voice to little more than a whisper, "but he can be a bit of a bitch sometimes."

When Oskari sneered at that, Basil composed himself. "Hey, when Coach says to not talk shit about each other, that goes both ways."

"All right," Larry conceded, still hanging an arm around Basil. "Just stickin' up for teammates," he gave his captain a shoulder pat along with a raised eyebrow, "that's how you win!"

"True, true!" Oskari said. "Good advice. I'm gonna catch some sleep."

"Me too," uttered Basil with a miffed glance at Larry.

When the lynx sauntered away and Basil laid his glass down, Larry leaned forward into his ear. "Dinner tomorrow night?" the wolf suggested, enticingly.

Basil blinked and darted his eyes towards the two avians at the table nearby, who were too invested in their game to pay any attention to the two first-liners.

"Fuck yeah," he answered.

---

It was just past dawn when the bus dropped them off and the two finished working out the rest of the details through texts. Basil, with about half a night of sleep in him, stepped into his complex and immediately rushed into bed.

He woke up at the end of a sleep cycle, leaving him fairly attentive when he slipped out of bed to put on coffee. He followed through his procedure for a day off, spending most hours lounging, vigilantly watching sports news, and keeping up with the events of both leagues. Above all else, he observed the time on the clock. 6:30 meetup time.

Larry's advances were puzzling: awkward, well-intentioned--naive? Larry probably got his ideas from porn flicks, Basil figured. In that case, shouldn't he take more charge? The wolf did fuck him, but Basil had a lot more experience.

By the time Basil was half-dressed to go, his rumination degraded into more primal thoughts about Larry's body.

The Pasta Pomerium was a distance from both Basil and Larry's places--though it was preferable for the herbivorous caribou over the steakhouse that the wolf first suggested. Not everyone had a carnivore's diet, much to Larry's apparent surprise.

Basil hurried in a minute after the proposed meeting time to find the restaurant half-occupied with groups filling their own tables, yet no lone wolf in sight. He turned his eyes to a row of free tables at the back.

"Table for two," he notified the receptionist, "my friend will be over in a sec."

After five more minutes, Larry burst through the door, panting in a half-zipped parka. He scanned quickly across the many eyes turned to him and met Basil's as a wide grin spread across his face. He flew through the restaurant, weaving around tables of dining couples and families as if they were defenders, before parking right by the goal: a solitary Basil, sitting inside a booth lined with signed Heroes memorabilia and a TV playing sports highlights above.

"Yo! 'Sup, date!?" Larry exclaimed, to which Basil gandered around frantically like the customers were anything more than disinterested. Larry shrugged off his coat and slid onto the red leather of the booth chair, now wearing a fancy vest that he donned to games. He perched his elbows on the table and smiled at Basil under the glow of a tiffany chandelier.

"Don't worry, dude! We're minors!" Larry's eyes widened. "No! I mean--uh...we're minor leaguers. No one's even seen us before."

Larry coughed when Basil snickered, raising his eyebrows. "Or, should I say, yet! But damn! I've heard of this place before, but I never expected it to be so..."

Basil matched his glow. "What?"

"...Italian."

"Well, yeah."

"Okay, but," the crafty wolf blinked, snapping on the finger gun he shot Basil, "obscure Larry fact number one! Did you know that my family came from Italy?"

"Kline? That doesn't sound--"

"My middle name's the same as my granddad on my Mom's side. Get this: Elmo." Larry grinned gleefully, tapping his fingers in time with the ambient soft rock of the restaurant.

Basil scratched at the base of his antlers. "Wait, what? I thought that dumbass name was reserved for Sesame Street."

Larry's teeth were pearl white. "Not to Mama Kline!"

Basil considered this, and then shrugged agreeably. "I can see some Muppet in you. You ever been to Italy?"

Larry's ears perked up above his entertained grin. "No, but I do know some Italian!"

Basil arched an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Say some."

"Uh, uh..." Larry glimpsed towards the heavens, surely seeking help from God on fulfilling his bluff. "Sono Larry...ciao..."

"I too saw Cars."

"Basil è stupido...and, uh..." Larry closed his eyes. "Oh! Veni, vidi, vici! That's the Legion quote! I came, I saw--"

"I know! And that's Latin, F.Y.I."

Larry titled his head. "How did you know that's Latin?"

"Took it as an elective. I needed three credits," Basil answered, jutting three fingers in the air. A smug pair of eyebrows elevated behind the glass of water at his lips.

A raccoon waiter hovered beside the table with a pen and notebook, standing professionally attentive at the pair. "Hey, you two ready to order?"

"Yes," Larry replied, flipping through the menu for the first time. "I'll grab the, uh...spaghetti and meatballs..." his eyes met Basil's. "And a salad on the side."

The waiter scribbled in his notepad. "Garden or caesar?"

Larry squinted. "Both." His eyes suddenly shot wide open. "Oh! And my date will have--"

Basil cut in and raised a paw. "I'll grab the, uh, fettuccine alfredo."

"With broccoli or mushroom?"

"How about both?"

The raccoon nodded firmly. "Sure thing."

Basil studied the waiter's name tag as he scribbled the order. "Thanks, Jake."

When the raccoon left, he turned to Larry. "I can't believe you called me your 'date.'"

"Yeah?" A smirk rose sideways on Larry's muzzle. "You are, though! I'm not gonna pussy out of that!"

"You don't need to prove that at this point," Basil jested. "I just don't want too much about us in the open and shit."

Larry's gaze was stable. "You really think they'd void your contract if they knew you were gay?"

"I mean...well, no, but..."

"I know you're, like, ancient, but hockey's better than that now."

Basil studied the wooden table, mesmerizing himself in the shine.

"Our team has a promotional pride night in February." Larry didn't break his earnest look.

"It's different for the fans," Basil narrowed his eyes. "The fans are filling the seats. The team's paying us."

"Okay," Larry emphasized, finally turning his muzzle away and shrugging. "But if you got shit for being gay, you know there'd be hell to pay on social media, right?"

"They could cover it up," Basil countered, as if he were reciting the words.

Defiance filled Larry's expression. "Then you go to The Players' Tribune and write about that shit."

"And then I'll never get a job in hockey ever again?"

Larry flattened his palms on the table. "Nobody knows that. There are fifteen teams out of the playoffs right now, and they've had fuckin' surveys and shit about gay players. At worst, you're a marketing opportunity."

"I'm surprised you think an NHA team would pick me up."

"Well, the Heroes are kind of stacked on the wing. I'm sure you'd make it with Québec, or Philly, or Miami..." The young wolf rubbed the underside of his muzzle in thought.

Basil found a pit in his heart. "I dunno. I kind of want to stay around here."

Larry frowned. "Me too."

The two studied each other before Larry went on. "You're way more responsible on defence than most guys. You also know what to do with your stick when the puck isn't on it, and that kind of thing. In my opinion."

"Well," Basil amended, "I don't have the hands you do."

Larry showed off his fangs. "Whatever. I'm just saying you have a place. At least in my eyes."

Basil found the corners of his mouth curving up. "Thanks." He paused, and the two shared another look.

"No problem. You don't need good hands to be a good dude. Though," Larry's smile was infectious, "I'd say you have a bit of both." He peered back to see the waiter carefully balancing a pair of bowls, and quickly turned to Basil before the raccoon arrived. "Hey, wanna share my salad?"

---

Given stomachs full of their double portions, the pair retreated to Basil's apartment to unwind, where they relaxed on beige linen sheets in front of the TV.

Larry reclined on his back, grinning leisurely up at the pleased caribou who sat on him. "Thanks for footin' the bill, dude!"

Basil tensed his muscular thighs and grinned down at the amicable wolf. "No problem!"

"And thanks for letting me stay at your place!" Larry lifted his handsome muzzle. "So generous, really!"

Basil's response arrived through his shaky paw meeting Larry's chest.

Larry rested his own on the top of Basil's back and guided him down, pulling their muzzles close. "You know what? You are pretty cute."

Basil eyed the experimental wolf and licked across his snout. "Mmm...You think so?"

Larry wiggled his eyebrows, and then wrapped his other paw around Basil for a better grip.

After a few moments of savouring the wolf, Basil shuddered. "Ah! Oh Christ!" he wheezed.

The reindeer's dick convulsed in Larry's hand, painting between the two athletes and staining up to Larry's grey neckfur.

"You've got one hell of a shot!" Larry barked. "Aw, shit!"

In under half a minute, Larry gripped Basil's thighs as he trembled and came into the condom, before dropping his head back and sighing in contentment.

Basil nuzzled one of Larry's splayed out ears in his winded resolution. "No Jesus quote?"

"Veni," Larry murmured.

[NEXT]

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