FSE

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Smack stared up at the rather lovely sight above him, obscured only partially by the draping folds of loose gym shorts. The striped hyena looked down at him from above, paws on his hips, sleeveless shirt floating open in front as well to show the way up his smooth, flat chest, belly gently pocked and lined with the slight valleys of sleek, tight muscle. He knew that Shekh had only recently begun working out, but already the hyena showed good evidence of doing so, visually and olfactorily.

The foxwolf drew in another slow, low breath through his nose and then swallowed, the light, salty spice of exertion and sweat tickling at the back of his throat, mixed with the floral warmth of deodorant not quite strong enough, and course the brighter, sharper, acrid touch of natural musk and odor. Mouth still partially open, he tilted his head to the side, lifted it up a bit, peered up through one leg of Shekh's shorts where they hung open... and saw up there nestled against the sweat-streaked fur of his upper thigh, the hyena's hefty balls hanging down under the humid heat of his workout, supple skin plastered against himself due to the gathered moisture, soft shaft draped in front and jiggling slightly as he caught his breath from this last exercise.

"Think I'm done for now," Shekh rumbled, reaching up to wipe his wrist over his forehead. Everything held there within his shorts bounced and jiggled with the movement, balls shifting within his sack though the skin remained stuck to his leg. Smack swallowed again and tilted his head to look up the other leg. "And you know what that means, right?"

He did. Smack felt his tail wag underneath him; he shifted where he lay across the bench, bringing one leg part of the way up to hide the way his own shorts stirred and began tenting in front. "What?"

"That means," and Shekh slid his both of his thumbs beneath the waistband of his gym shorts, "your job is just about to begin."

It took nearly all of Smack's willpower to remain lying down there while the hyena tugged his shorts down his legs. His tail curled down and tickled at his nose, then fluffed up once he pulled it free: cinnamon- and mocha-colored fur shimmered in the fluorescent lights overhead, lightly misted from underneath with the full-body sheen of sweat effused from his workout; he shifted from one leg to the other as he did so, never lifting one completely up, keeping his pants on but just pulled down to his knees. Forward the black material slid, briefly mussing his fur... and then those balls swung out and down from where he halfway crouched over Smack's muzzle, swinging loosely in the open air now free from their confinement.

Smack blinked, thinking he felt a little spray of sweat settling across his nose and lips. He swallowed again, licked his lips, looked up, looked down, looked up, again, then felt his eyes held there as though to a powerful magnet. With his shorts now in place halfway down his legs Shekh looked back to make sure he was still lined up, gave another side to side wiggle just so his balls would bounce from one thigh to the other, then reached both of his paws back. Long fingers squished gently into the plush give of his rump, folding up underneath the base of his tail, disappearing amid the puff of fur there... and then he spread himself from there, gripping in against himself, drawing his fingerpads out along the rim of his tailhole.

Soft tan fur gave way to warm, wrinkled pink, puckering to a rich wet red right in the center. Smack's mouth fell open and he forgot about his lifted leg, letting it drop back down and now show off his own twitching arousal, stirred up from the invitation. Shekh paused, clenched - his tailhole winked in against itself, then stretched back to its initial relaxed position - and then slowly lowered himself down, the humid, swampy heat emanating off of him strengthening the closer he came. The foxwolf took in a breath through both his nose and mouth at the same time, smelling him, tasting him: already he could feel the soft, slightly sticky wrinkles of that pucker against his lips, already he could taste the salty bitterness of sweat and musk smearing off on his tongue and nose, already he had the slight burning tingle of hot, slimy flesh squishing against him, and he hadn't even touched him yet.

Then, finally, he did. Shekh's aim was a little bit off at first, not that Smack cared that much: the central pucker of his tailhole, the sleek wrinkles smeared with beads of caught sweat and loose bits of fur, pressed down right at the tip of his nose. There was the touch, the slight tightening when he nudged up into it, then the tug of tacky wet flesh pulling - followed by a much smoother smear once the sweat made its way in between. Then Shekh pressed himself down again, giving a little push from inside: the rim of his tailhole puckered up and out against Smack's lips, meeting him in a dense, wet, hot kiss, already coating his mouth with scent and salty taste.

Immediately the foxwolf's eyes fluttered shut, his nose docked there underneath the other male's tail. He felt Shekh reach down to balance himself on one of his legs while the other pushed down on the bench, using that as leverage to grind himself back; he clenched on Smack's lips then pushed again, rim of his tailhole pulling in, smoothing out, and then puckering out again, just barely revealing the warm wetness inside, before pulling in yet again. Smack parted his lips against this kiss and swirled his tongue around, slurping off those beads of sweat and musk; he suckled across Shekh's tailhole, feeling the salty, sticky warmth coat his tongue and the back of his throat, able to feel it when he swallowed.

Gradually the hyena lowered himself down further until his rump pushed down on Smack's muzzle buried underneath him, leaving him no choice but to breathe through the dampened fur of the base of his tail. The foxwolf squirmed, sighed out, and tightened his arms around the hyena's thighs, holding him even more firmly in place.

An hour long workout for this, and it was so worth it.