That Old Cliché
A mouse hooks up with a wolf at a gym. Then raunchy hijinks happen. I think. Maybe they just hold hands, who knows?
Dorian wasn't the sort of mouse to enjoy his slight frame or his diminutive stature. While some of his rodent friends might claim that it made him unique, that it marked him as something special among the ever-growing myriad of people all towering nearer and nearer to the ceiling, he dwelled instead on how near to the floor he must seem in their eyes. The old saying went "those other folk always have their heads in the clouds!" And maybe that was the case, but didn't that just mean a mouse like Dorian was beneath their notice?
In any case, a foul mood coupled with self-loathing brought Dorian out to the Athletes First gym, populated mostly with people desperately working to repair their figures after a particularly indulgent holiday season. Over in the treadmill corner were the housewives and mothers, all part of a club made official through Facebook. At the weight sets, far on the other side of the room, were a collection of mouse-bound young men in their early twenties all working to impress one another with the varieties of things they could lift. Dorian sunk his paws into his pockets and made a conscious effort not to frown.
If he did frown, it would have to be from envy, of course. He wanted to be one of those. There was a bull more ripped than well-loved novel in the hands of a toddler, a particularly menacing and presently shirtless cat with abs that almost made him look more attractive than intimidating and a wolf wrapped in a shirt that struggled to contain his chest. They were all near to six feet. Dorian wanted that; he wanted to have to duck his head when he entered a room or to have some struggle in finding fitting clothes. Just a hair shy of five feet himself and lost in his size-small clothes, the dream was unattainable. He watched them from afar while he shyly weaved his way over to vacant bike.
He recited the advice he'd heard before, even though it had become second nature in here by now. This was the ninth week of his membership, his thirty fifth visit all in all. And with all that time and work, he'd barely earned any definition for his efforts. He kept the hoodie on as he worked away at the pedals, a slow pace for now. His earbuds blared indecipherable electronic garbage into his rounded ears, more a distraction for later than anything to keep him enthused for the task at hand. All the while he watched his more successful peers, if they could rightly be called peers, two of whom now organised an impromptu arm-wrestling competition. The wolf won, but both he and his opponent - a bird - laughed about it.
Twenty minutes later he moved on to the wrack of dumbbells lined against the wall. He started at the mid-range, struggled, overheard a pair of patrons wondering aloud whether he ought to be in gym at all. You had to be sixteen to join, after all. He shuffled further to the left, away from the two and nearer to the lighter weights. Two of the usual pair, he decided at length, if only because they were the heaviest that he could reliably work with. Although many of the gym's regulars would take dumbbells from the wall and wander off to the treadmills, Dorian instead obeyed the rules, remaining within the area covered with soft blue padding. He tried to keep his eyes down as he did, but again they wandered over to the small crowd by the more specialised weight equipment.
The weight equipment that now had some openings, as the majority of its usual users rested. Dorian's ears flapped low as he considered making his way over. Before now, he'd avoided that section of the gym, too afraid of embarrassing himself with the more challenging stuff. It could all be adjusted, but the weight of the tools was what bothered him. The complex series of cables, rollers and actual flat brick weights, the mechanism requiring one to draw their arms inward against resistance. Surely he'd see more progress if he were to use one of the contraptions, but that would mean being near to the people he'd been so carefully observing since coming here. That he'd been observing for weeks, as a matter of fact.
What if one of them had noticed? He sucked a breath through his teeth and felt his body tense. That couldn't have been the case. Every time one so much as sneezed in his direction, he ducked his head and pretended to have been looking at nothing in particular. The equipment usually came with a reasonable excuse built-in, most of the bikes coming with little screens to count calories. He'd just fiddle with that for a minute or two and then resume watching when the coast seemed clear. Always so, so cautious. But if one had noticed, they could be comfortable with an onlooker from afar, but what would they do if Dorian were to come near? Would they be hostile? He didn't have the greatest regard for men with biceps no doubt bigger than the common brain...
Then again, maybe - and this was wholly hypothetical, he knew - whoever had seen him looking was into being admired, but just a little too shy to come on over and introduce himself. Maybe he could have a lovely, compassionate relationship with somebody strong enough to handle a few hundred kilograms. The thought definitely appealed to him. He watched them for a few moments more, inadvertently drawn to their chests and waists again, before looking back to the dumbbells in his hands. Maybe that muscled whoever would be into being admired by another man, but by no stretch of the imagination could be possibly be interested in a lanky little mouse who barely qualified as having a "swimmer's build."
The solution to that was right over there, right by too-attractive wolf, presently stretching both arms above his head and flexing his back and... Dorian drew in a second deep breath, summed up his courage and put the dumbbells down. That was it. The last straw. The sight of all that definition falling into line, visible even under a shaggy coat of grey. He'd be a runt no more! He'd fix this whole issue and that would be that. Maybe if he just remembered to be friendly, they wouldn't mind an interloper among their little circle of hyper-masculinity. Dorian wobbled a little as he forced one foot in front of the other. The texture of the plastic padding gave way to the flat, coarse carpet, letting him know that he'd progressed nearer while his eyes remained fixedly on that wolf, who now crossed both of those enormous arms over his chest while watching one of his friends. He wore a skeptical expression, one ear perked up. Something about it, about that slight cant of the head, about the way the lowered ear sort of flopped to the side, it was just too cute to Dorian. His cheeks filled up with heat and he forgot to worry about being found out for just a moment.
Dorian's eyes snapped back down again. Even his feet appeared small. Plenty of people had fearsome claws on their toes. Some even retracted into the toes, making them all the more intimidating, flexing out into whatever they stepped on to accentuate a dramatic stride forward. Dorian's were stubby and blunt. He cast that out of his head and instead devised an impromptu routine; fifteen reps to a rest? Something like that. Maybe he ought to ask what would be ideal. He realised that he didn't know how to adjust the equipment. The wolf - he'd ask the wolf. And the wolf would be named Dale. Dale would drive a reasonably handsome car, or perhaps something ruggedly masculine like a truck. He'd have an uncanny habit of wearing a cap backwards while in public, but whenever he caught himself doing something so awkward he'd discretely correct it and never mention it. Dorian almost swooned.
When he came close enough to inspect the equipment, he found it even more confusing than he expected. Unlike the bikes, it didn't have a screen to indicate anything and he couldn't for the life of him work out how to adjust the weight. The front of the machine was deceptively sparse. It had the two flat panels meant to be manipulated with one's arms and a seat. The panels were connected to an arch which met at a pulley. The actual weights were mostly obscured behind the device. There was no knob to adjust. He stood scratching at the back of his head for a short while, scowling at the machine in fact, as those more versed with it started to realise that he was there. The wolf whom Dorian had decided would be named Dale approached after a brief chuckle.
"Can I lend a hand?" Dorian nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard it. He flicked off his earbuds and thrust his hands back into his pockets. Dale didn't sound quite how he expected. A little clearer, his voice just almost an octave higher in pitch. One grey paw waved over the machine to indicate just what he meant, as Dorian must have looked a little confused. The mouse attempted to muster a reply but found all he could offer as a clumsy little nod. The wolf chuckled again and set about explaining the equipment. He showed Dorian the little metal bar buried low in the weight bricks. "About how heavy do you want it?"
"I don't, um," Dorian started. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm not really sure. I haven't used one of these before, really. I mostly stick to the dumbbells."
The wolf nodded and slid the bar in near to the top, beneath only two bricks of weight. "That ought to do it for now. We can make it heavier if that's what you need. So, bulking up?" He gestured Dorian into the seat. The mouse hurried to sit, finding Dale appeared even taller from this new vantage. Dale crossed his arms again. Behind him, several of his band collected their things and headed off in the direction of the showers. The others sat back down at their own exercise equipment.
"I think so. I mean, I've been trying but I haven't really done much except losing a bit of fat."
"That's a shame," Dale frowned. "I think mice look pretty cute with a decent bit of chub. Not to say that you don't already."
Dorian seized up. The claws at the very tips of his fingers sank into the leather coating the device's armrests. He stared at Dale for the first few moments, wide-eyed. He didn't say the first thing that came to mind, which was a shame because that would've had him offer his name and ask for a date. Instead, what Dorian cleverly spat out was "you're gay?"
The wolf chuckled and shook his head. Dorian's heart sank. "I'm bi, I guess. I don't bother much with labels." The mouse's heart leapt right to his throat and threatened to escape if he opened his idiot mouth again. For the moment Dorian just nodded. He shoved hard against the armrests and found that they were actually rather easy to move. The cable slid over the pulley and two five kilogram bricks rose into the air. Wanting to show off, the mouse kept them suspended there.
"I'm not bothered much with labels either," he lied. He spent hours on the internet in futile efforts to categorise what he was. "Um, but now that you know what I'm into, I guess we should introduce ourselves. My name is Dorian."
"Chris. You don't wonna hold the weight, by the way. It's about doing it a few times fast and then resting. Try ten reps." Chris eased Dorian back with a hand. Dorian nodded again, then followed the wolf's directions. "Dormouse, huh? You must cop that a lot."
"That's the first time," Dorian lied again. He wanted to impress.
Chris only chuckled. "Sure it is. Hey look, Dormouse, I was going to head off about now. But why don't we swap numbers? I have a little event planned that I think you'll be just right for."
"Like a date?"
"Woah now. I'm, uh, not at a point where I'm up for the whole dating thing," Chris chuckled. Dorian was caught between disappointment and curiosity. Before he could ask, the wolf went on, "no, it's sort of a... A bit of fooling around a mate and I do with the occasional heartthrob that comes along. If you're up for it, hey, you'll have my number. If not, no worries, I'm still around to offer some weight set advice. Let me see your phone for a minute."
Dorian wasn't quite sure he was hearing things properly. He batted a hand against his ear a few times and thought of asking Chris to repeat himself. Worried that he'd ruin what he thought was happening, though, he just shoved his mobile up at the wolf instead. The wolf nodded and set about entering his number. "So," Dorian choked out. Why was his throat suddenly so dry? He cleared it again with a momentary frown. "Uh, about this, um... 'Play.' You do mean that kind of thing, right?"
"Sure do," Chris answered cordially. When he was done with the phone, he offered it back to Dorian, who checked it over to be sure he wasn't being fooled with. There it was, clear as day - Chris' number. "I mean, hey. What's the point of being buddies with these guys if you can't sleep with 'em, right?"
"Right," the mouse answered, a little shaken by the experience. He wanted to pinch himself, but he was worried about looking stupid.
"Anyway!" Chris clapped his hands together, making Dorian jump again. "I'm gonna hit the shower and head off. If you see a lion with glasses sulking about, go up and say hi. If his name's Mike, chances are you'll be getting acquainted this week. Anyhow, see you around, Dorian."
And with that, Chris waved and took his bag off to the showers. The mouse watched him walk away, cruising shirtless between the other patrons without a care. Dorian didn't know what to do. He sat at the weight station, absentmindedly squeezing the equipment in nearer his chest and relaxing out again. He didn't keep to the ten-then-rest rhythm that Chris had recommended, if only because his might was so caught up on everything else Chris had said. His mind strayed onto all of the possibilities...
Dorian left the gym awkwardly a short while later. He skipped the shower. His hands stayed in his pockets, puffing his hoodie outward to hide the swelling in his sweatpants. A young fox woman at the door eyed him with a sly smile as he scurried anxiously by.
-
Two nights later, Dorian made his way across Chris' driveway on foot. The wolf's home was a townhouse, squashed in the centre of six identical townhouses. The only thing that made his stand out was a purple Honda Accord sitting in the driveway. Unlike the home, the car was so old that were it left on the side of the street, it would appear abandoned. Rust had claimed much of the roof. One of the back windows was cracked in a spiderweb pattern spanning out from the lower right. It was eerie enough that the mouse reconsidered is decision. The house itself kept him marching forward. It featured a balcony, though he had to wonder why; the only view it would offer was of the spanning suburbs.
He ventured up as far as the veranda. The modern facade was painted a tan, brown and grey in a haphazard collection of shades. Chris had left the light on to be sure Dorian would find the place. The light fixture stood out as excessively old-fashioned in such a modern series of buildings, perhaps one of the wolf's own little touches. The mouse contemplated running home just once more before he rapped his knuckles against the door.
"One minute!" Chris called out from inside. The mouse's ears twitched as he listened for any sound inside. He heard a brief rummaging, then a series of footsteps coming across a wooden floor. A brief jingle on the other side of the door told Dorian that the wolf had his keys in hand, and the sudden slide of metal against metal told him that the key had been inserted. His breath caught in his throat and his hands balled to fists inside of his jacket pockets. He could feel those little claws of his digging into his palms. His ears twitched and flattened briefly. The door shouldn't stay shut this long. Maybe Chris was messing with him. Maybe this was a practical joke. That made more sense than the insufferably handsome wolf offering to hook up with him. Yeah, that was definitely it. The mouse turned on his heel and prepared to walk away.
He heard the door swing open and spun back around in a hurry, only to see Chris with a particularly confused expression on his face. The wolf wore a shirt now, a rather baggy one that didn't show off his body at all. A more humble choice in wardrobe. "Sorry," he offered, "the door catches sometimes. The place looks all futuristic, but I bet they cut every corner making it. Come on in."
The wolf stepped back and ushered Dorian inside. The doorway opened into the living room, well-decorated with brown leather furniture and an ornamental coffee table. Framed photographs hung from the walls, most of them of exotic nighttime skylines. Dorian encroached further in, over the coffee-coloured rug, on a route for one of the pictures. Chris locked the door and pursued to catch Dorian half-way, wrapping one arm across the mouse's chest and the other his waist, stooping to perform the act. His breath snagging again on his too-tight throat, Dorian's whole body went rigid for an instant. One part of it remained stiff.
"That fast? Geez," Chris laughed. Dorian could feel that enormous, hard chest rumbling against his back. He realised the size of the wolf's paws as one of them delved down across his flat belly and over his waist to close around his crotch. The mouse rose reflexively to his toes and gasped while the wolf staged a brief exploration. Each of his fingers rolled over Dorian's confined length and sac. Chris released him too soon. The mouse twisted 'round again, looking up to Chris in protest. Chris only smiled.
"Mike's upstairs already. Look, we don't wonna rush this, so you should make yourself comfortable. Poke around a bit, have a drink. When you're ready, we'll head up." One of those enormous hands clapped down over Dorian's shoulder. The mouse just nodded again, something he found he was becoming comfortable with. Just ahead of Chris, he wandered throughout the lower floor of the townhouse. The living room connected with the kitchen without any divider, making the home appear very open. Dorian left his phone and keys on the counter, then slipped off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. He'd decided to dress nicely for the occasion, though with Chris' casual choice in attire he had to wonder whether he was overdressed. He fumbled with the wrist buttons of his shirt.
The wolf scratched behind one of his flopping ears. "About Mike." A pause. A million worries came to Dorian's mind instantly. What was it? Some horrifying disease? An unnerving deformity? Bad breath? An abusive streak? "He sprained his ankle pretty bad the other day, apparently. Probably why you didn't see him in the gym yesterday or the day before. He's up and about now, but be a bit gentle with it if you end up in thereabouts, alright?"
"Oh! Oh, sure," Dorian nodded. "So no slathering all over his feet. Gotcha." Dorian could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Chris laughed again and nodded. He had a distinctly rhythmic sort of laugh, the kind that would sound insincere, but his expression was too genuine for it to be faked. Somehow it inspired confidence, because before he knew it, Dorian found he was saying "I haven't really done this whole big gay orgy thing before. You'll keep me from making an idiot of myself, right? I mean, if it's anything like weight sets..."
The wolf nodded and clapped Dorian on the shoulder again. "Will do. It's easy. Just do what you want. Mike's a sweetheart and I like to think I'm not that bad myself. You'll be fine, Dormouse. Won't even roughhouse with you if you don't want it."
"Promise?" Dorian set to work on his shirt. Too impractical to handle upstairs, really. What was he thinking? A button-up shirt? He glanced up to Chris and saw the wolf crossing his fingers over his chest with another of those pearly, trustworthy smiles. Somewhere around the forth button he realised that Chris was watching him closely, attentive to every little bit of fur he exposed. For the most part, Dorian's chest was brown while his belly was white. An asymmetrical pattern, but evidently one that the wolf liked.
Dorian went to remove the shirt altogether. Chris raised his paw to suggest he ought to hold off. "Wait until we're upstairs, eh? Since you're getting undressed, I'm going to guess that you're ready." The paw came down to Dorian, this time offered palm-up rather than clasped around the mouse's shoulder. Once again he had to hesitate, but after the usual amount of consideration Dorian finally slipped his own paw inside of the wolf's. That enormous mitt clasped gently around Dorian's. Then Chris led him off to the stairs, just to the right left of the front door from the inside. They wound to the side and folded nicely into the second storey of the townhouse. There weren't so many photographs up here, but a few amateur paintings did hang from the walls.
"Do you paint?" Conversation kept Dorian at some remote semblance of calm. His mouth felt dry and he nearly stumbled as he walked alongside the wolf. Chris towered over him by a clean foot.
Shaking his head, the wolf answered "they're my sister's. I put 'em up so she knows her stuff'll always hang somewhere."
"That's sweet of you." Dorian found that he was murmuring when he meant to speak aloud. He repeated, "that's sweet," just a decibel higher.
They came to a part-way closed door. Chris clasped the handle. He could feel, see and hear just how tense Dorian was, if only because it was all so overwhelmingly obvious. So the wolf decided to inch the door forward slowly, bit by bit, little by little, all just to tease the mouse. It worked, Dorian could barely contain his nerves. The room came into view a fraction at a time. First, he realised that the room was dimly lit, but all he could make out was the wooden foot of a fairly spacious bed. Then came a broad pair of light brown feet, the ankle of one wrapped in a sprain brace. Shins and calves came into view, which led up to a pair of tremendous bare thighs. Then a crotch, equally bare, housing an equally tremendous flaccid member. Just above that, a distinct nest of darker brown fur, which led up in a peculiar trail along the lion's surprisingly rounded belly and up to his chest. Most intriguing of all was Mike's face, though. Every bit as handsome as the wolf's, but with a beard and wild crop of hair made from the lion's natural mane.
Mike smiled at him and Dorian stood dimly in the doorway, captivated by the sight. Chris released his hand, reached down and scooped the whole of the mouse up, rattling him back to his senses. "No time to be in a daze," he said before carefully placing Dorian down on the bed, right beside the lion. Then he sat down himself, boxing the mouse between their two comparatively gigantic, powerful bodies. Dorian was struck suddenly by the smell, a combination of subtle cologne and the natural scent of male. Before he knew what he was doing, the mouse reached both of his hand out and placed them down on the lion's chest, fanning out across the light, downy fur. They looked so small against the lion's body. He stroked his way down to the curious patch of darker brown that grew across the centre of the chest. That bit of fat made the lion's body soft, while Chris' had felt so firm during their brief embrace downstairs.
"I would've come down to say hello, but the stairs are a killer." Mike took one of Dorian's hands in his own, just as the mouse became aware of another pair suddenly encircling his waist. While Chris drew his grip up across the mouse's belly, Mike tugged that smaller hand in nearer to his mouth. The lion kissed the back of his hand, old-fashioned and with every bit of irony intended, then cast the mouse a playful wink. Dorian murmured something along the lines of 'that's alright' or 'no worries,' but he wasn't sure what exactly. Whatever it was, it must have come out wrong, because both Chris and Mike laughed at him - good-naturedly, of course. "My name's Michael," the lion said, "and it's definitely a pleasure to meet you."
"You too," the mouse answered, a little more attentive to his words now. A sudden tug told him that the wolf was working off his shirt. He raised his arms to assist and in a moment, he was half naked in front of the already fully naked lion. Chris engulfed his chest again, tugging him back. The sensation of fur-on-fur told him that somewhere along the line, the wolf had removed his own shirt. The warmth of Chris' body drew him in. He didn't have a chance to dwell on the sensation, though, as one of Michael's paws cupped up against his crotch not a half-second later. The other worked over the buckle of his belt, casual as could be.
Chris' teeth buried in against Dorian's neck. The mouse sucked in a sudden, shrill breath. His jeans parted open at the front and the lion's paw slipped inside, if only to free his most certainly hard manhood. The rough, calloused texture was something new to Dorian as the supine male started stroking. All the while, a stray paw worked Dorian's jeans down, determined to have the mouse absolutely nude. "Lift," Mike said when it was necessary, and Chris did exactly that, as if they'd practiced this a dozen times together. The jeans disappeared a moment after.
A wet, pulsating length of flesh made itself known against Dorian's back. The mouse groaned and tried to reach back and grasp it, but Mike seized both of his arms by the wrists. Both of them were restrained effortlessly. Dorian struggled for a few moments, just to test his bonds, but found that he couldn't even budge Michael an inch. The danger of the situation occurred to him. If he wanted to escape, just what was he to do? He glanced down at Mike. No doubt aware of Dorian's brief resistance, even if it wasn't at all successful, the lion looked concerned, mouthing 'too much?' Dorian relaxed. He smiled, shook his head and struggled again; there was something oddly appealing about being overwhelmed...
The lion inched his way down across the bed and levelled his face with Dorian's crotch. His mouth stretched open and he swallowed the whole of the mouse's length almost without any effort. A flat tongue curled its way around the mouse, teasing his half-exposed glans and easing back down along the shaft. He canted his head back and moaned, absorbed in the novel dryness of the feline's tongue. Chris leaned his chest into Dorian's back, prompting the mouse forward, only to rise up again. Both of his paws seized Dorian's hips and repositioned the mouse's rear up into the air. Mike caught Dorian's weight as the wolf aligned his length between the two warm globes of the mouse's rear. He squeezed them together around his shaft as he thrust in earnest, brushing against the mouse's rear opening with no intent of penetrating for the moment.
"Do you want it in, Dor-mouse?" The wolf asked, almost teasing in his tone. He lowered his body over Dorian's again, mindful not to put too much weight on the mouse. Dorian opened his mouth to answer. The lion's tongue glanced across the tip of his length and he grit his teeth instead. The wolf caught the back of the mouse's neck between his skin, grazing gently enough to scratch but not hurt, drawing a helpless gasp out the smallest of the three. Caught between the two other men, Dorian fought to roll his hips and squirm, but with Chris holding him by the rear and Mike pinning his arms to his sides, he didn't make much purchase. "You better answer soon - or we won't tell you the rules."
"Rules? I - yes, I want it!" He tried to say more, but Michael sucked _hard,_almost as though he meant to steal the breath right out of Dorian's lungs through his crotch. He was successful in a way; the mouse cried out. Mike drew off of his length with a content smile, manoeuvring into a sit opposite Dorian and Chris. The lion spread his thighs and Dorian saw everything, illuminated by the orange lamplight. Chris watched the mouse's head sink down as Dorian followed his instincts, burying his face in the lion's crotch, tongue lulling out to run root-to-tip. The mouse was startled to find smooth little bumps over it, telltale barbs thankfully so blunt and small that they almost promised not to hurt. He'd be more confident if not for the size of the rest of Mike's cock, at least.
A sudden tug of his tail brought Dorian's mind back to Chris - and the rules. The canine's length abandoned his backside, but not those two broad paws, each fondling enthusiastically now. Each thumb crawled nearer and nearer to the exposed pucker. "These are the rules. If you want both us, you have to take Mike first. More of a practicality thing, seeing as how I have a knot. Second rule is, you're not allowed to cum until both of us do." Dorian listened between eager slurps along Michael's shaft. The lion's paw settled between both of his ears, directing him along. The mouse found the barbs to be the most sensitive spots. "Third," Chris went on, one of his thumbs now probing against the mouse's rear entrance, drawing another moan from him, "if you do take both of us, you take the knot. Hear all that?"
"Yes," Dorian answered, raising his head to pay devoted attention to Mike's crown. The lion flexed his back briefly and stroked his hand down over the mouse's cheek. Dorian's eyes rose to meet the lion's, a curious yellow-gold. As if to reward Dorian, Chris sunk coated a finger with saliva and sank it right into the mouse's rear, inching in down to the knuckle. To endure the suddenness of the motion, the mouse opened his mouth up and closed it down tight around the head of Mike's shaft, suckling and assaulting it with his tongue.
"Alright. Good boy. Hey, Mike, pass me the lube." Dorian heard a brief exchange. All he could see now was the lion's waist. He sank further along Michael's cock, swallowing in as much as he could - almost half. He curled his tongue against the underside and drew in his cheeks as he rose again, starting to bob. The lion petted a hand across one of Dorian's fragile ears. Chis concluded with, "the last rule is, if anything we do hurts too much, you tell us right away. Alright?"
The mouse grunted his agreement, his mouth too full for speech. He felt the finger withdraw from his rear, then heard the tube of lubricant sputter. The mouse focused on his efforts to fit even more of the lion into his mouth, though he couldn't draw it back into his throat without gagging. With Michael's hand cupping and rubbing across his ears, he was sure that the lion didn't mind all too much. A second more and Dorian felt two wide, sick fingers against his rump. To show his readiness, he raised his rump as far as he could and hoisted his tail up straight. The wolf took the base of the bare, ropey tail in hand for leverage, then began the slow process of opening the mouse, inching his fingers forward it by slow bit.
Fortunately Dorian 'practiced' enough at home that it wasn't uncomfortable for more than a moment. The wolf sought out that hidden little bud. As soon as he found it, the mouse realised his predicament, albeit through a haze of lust and musk, mouth full of cock and backside stuffed with wolf; he had agreed that he would finish last. With two fingertips running a firm line across his prostate, he knew that wasn't something he could readily assure. He was certain that his manhood dripped already. Michael's did, he could taste it on his tongue. How much would these two need before getting off? One more distinct brush of fingers through his rear and he found he just couldn't keep worrying. Chris drew back and added another finger, spreading the mouse's rear out. He groaned again around Michael's shaft.
Chis thrust back and forth at speed. He let Dorian's tail slip out of his grasp to wrap his arm around the mouse's waist, seeking out his bobbing member. As soon as that warm, somewhat wet paw closed around his length, Dorian knew he was in trouble. He licked firmer, bobbed faster and clutched hard at the sheets underneath him. "Having trouble already, Dormouse?" Chris sounded dubious. He unhanded Dorian's length a moment after, brushing his hand outward along the mouse's hip, up to the small of his back and then down again to clasp one of his cheeks. "We better move on. It'd be a shame if you lost before even taking your first."
Just like that, the fingers were out of him. Chris inched back a ways, making space on the bed. Dorian let the cock fall from his mouth and straightened up. He struggled to reason over what was happening. He didn't see the motion, but suddenly the lubricant was back in Michael's hands. The lion squeezed a more than sufficient glob into his paws and began smearing it across his length, making it shine in the poor light. Dorian couldn't look away. Even as the lion approached, using one powerful hand to lay him down on his back, the mouse kept his head raised in an effort to see the shimmering, barbed flesh. As Mike took both of his ankles and raised his legs, it disappeared behind his own stiff, swollen flesh - he'd never seen his own looking this needy.
Both of his feet rested on Michael's chest as the lion took his time aligning that now familiar cock. He could feel the bulbous head of it brushing through the crease of his rump. He was overcome by an urge to stroke his own. "What happens if I lose?" He looked away from his stiff, desperate, neglected length and up to Michael for an answer. The lion said nothing, but settled on his mark and rolled his hips forward so very, very slowly. Dorian craned his back into the mattress as the lion parted him open that little bit further, the initial discomfort abating his growing need to climax some. His hands made a mess of the sheets and his toes clenched tight near the lion's chin.
"Nothing really. But you'll be rewarded if you follow the rules," Chris answered, though Dorian barely heard him. A little more of Michael buried its way inside. The mouse's heard rolled back and he caught sight of Chris, intently watching each and every motion of both the mouse and lion. He caught sight of Dorian watching him and kissed the air. The wolf remained agonisingly out of reach. The lion sank further in, but not far. A quarter of his cock, maybe a little less. He drew out and Dorian could feel each of those little nubs rubbing through his insides, not painfully - a welcome additional sensation. The lion jerked his hips forward forcefully, passing further in, just over half his shaft now. The mouse started to reach his hands down to his crotch, but the wolf caught them and held them firm against the bed. The lion lingered and allowed Dorian to adjust.
The mouse nodded his head a fraction to show that he was ready for more and the lion pressed on again, continuing until he sank right to the root. In that instant, as the enormous cat's soft hips met his no less soft backside, the mouse felt accomplished. He celebrated his victory just for that moment, before the lion started to tug his way out again. Each and every one of those blunt barbs caressed their way through the mouse's inner walls, drawing a moan from each of them. Dorian looked up to Michael again, watching the feline's face as he buried himself again. The urge to stroke himself, to push himself into a climax, was becoming overwhelming. He strained and fought against Chris' grasp, weakly at first but with more urgency as the lion began taking him in earnest.
"Don't cum, Dorian," Michael teased with shallow breath. Holding back was becoming nearly too hard. The cat shifted his angle so that those nubs of his would bump across Dorian's prostate. He watched the mouse's face, looked into his eyes and the mouse couldn't help but look back. The lion appeared gigantic, towering over him and huffing out with every deep thrust into him. Dorian could feel every little detail, every bump and flex of the lion's cock. "Not much more, mouse."
True to his word, the lion made one last thrust into Dorian's rear with enough force to bump the mouse an inch or two across the bed. He squeaked out with surprise, then settled for a rasping gasp as his rump was flooded with wet warmth. The lion remained inside of him for a while, not moving an inch while the mouse's expression contorted through pleasure to desperation. His cock twitched and bobbed, threatening to be tipped over the edge at any moment. Both the lion and wolf watched on, a predatory glint to their expression, both waiting for the first sign of white...
A trickle of precum, and that was all. Dorian forced his breathing to come evenly, not an easy feat considering his panting. A few seconds more and the lion inched back slowly, pulling himself out of the rodent's rear bit by bit, just as he'd entered. The mouse had no time for respite. He was lifted a second time, rolled Chris' arms and placed down again on his hands and knees. Dorian kept his rear upright, presenting for the wolf, who took the mouse's tail in hand to hold it upright. Chris took none of the time that Michael did with aligning his length or teasing the mouse. It was unnecessary, with Dorian already shoving back against the wolf's crotch.
The wolf set the tapered tip of his length against Dorian's rump and thrust forward, able to sink almost the whole way with the one motion, assisted by Dorian's eager push. The mouse sank his face to the sheets, collecting balls of them with his fists again. The wolf didn't hesitate. He drew back and rolled forward again, this time sliding right to the root inside of the mouse. Dorian could feel the wolf's length twitching in time with his heartbeat, slick with lubricant and now the lion's cum.
Chris didn't build his way up as Michael did, either. He started hammering his hips against Dorian with abandon. The mouse gasped, moaned, groaned and all but cried out with each connection of fur. His teeth clamped together as he fought, with that last bit of himself still remembering the rules and the challenge posed by the duo, to hold back his orgasm. His balls rose to his body and ached, shouting to be done. His cock throbbed from the base and along the underside. Every part of him needed to be done and, shivering, he realised that he couldn't keep it back much longer.
Something, not quite the canine's cock but not unlike it, started to swell against the mouse's rear. He only realised a few moments after that it was Chris' knot, growing as an omen of his own coming climax. Close, so close... The thrusts remained deep, but they didn't retreat nearly so much. The canid was sure to keep poised to tie with Dorian. The mouse imagined what it would be like, snared to a lover, remaining caught in place longer with every unintentional wriggle, every slight shift of his body, perhaps trapped for hours. The wolf's body closed across his own, chest to back, one of Chris' arms folding around his chest to keep him in place. The wolf's teeth brushed the back of his neck again, not quite grasping but close enough to it. That was enough, the sensation of teeth against his neck. The mouse drove his back into Chris, all of his strength going into that one hard push against the stronger male.
Gaining no purchase, the mouse remained doubled over as he burst across the sheets. His head swam and for a moment he couldn't see, though he hadn't the faculties to wonder whether he had become blind. Through his peak, he could feel his rear, just beyond that tight ring of muscle, drawn further apart. A sudden tug against his rump from the inside told him that he had been tied, but the meaning of that was lost on him as he coasted through his drawn-out climax. A second gush of hot liquid flowed through his rear. He felt stuffed full. As he came slowly, slowly down from his peak, he heard Michael saying about "a monstrous amount for such a little guy."
Dorian felt his body swaying to the left and realised that, some recent-enough time, he Chris had lain down and dragged him along for it. He squirmed his hips and heard the wolf grunt. Two powerful, broad arms wrapped around his chest to keep him in place. "I need a minute, Dormouse." Michael closed in on his front side. Dorian's face was pressed to the lion's dark brown chest and he nuzzled into it happily, sniffing in the scent. The rest of the night became cloudy, Dorian so thoroughly exhausted that he drifted in and out of wakefulness for hours.
-
Mid-afternoon the next evening, Dorian was leaving. He was sore, but now clean and most certainly happy. He wondered what reward he might have won, but decided, as Chris promised "we'll play again, definitely," that he didn't really care all too much. Clothed now, he descended the stairs and made his way for the front door. Both hands were tucked habitually into his coat pockets, phone in one, wallet in the other. He had to walk with his thighs a certain distance apart, and he knew that he wouldn't be sitting comfortably for a day at the least, but damned if he didn't feel a certain deep-seated sense of achievement.
"Hold on now," he heard Michael say. The mouse glanced back over his shoulder to see the lion, still sore from his injury, staggering his way down the stairs. A sudden stumble sent enormous cat onto his backside. Dorian hurried up the few stairs remaining between them to stand at Michael's feet, his hands immediately going to the sore ankle. While he investigated for any new injury, the cat laughed at him again and said, "isn't this a bit of a cliché? The mouse playing podiatrist for the lion?"
"Yeah, well... You're worth being corny over," Dorian replied with a clumsy shrug and smile. Michael leaned forward, reaching both arms out to catch Dorian under the arms. He lifted the mouse up into his lap and drew his mouth in tight for a close kiss, rolling that strange dry tongue of his over Dorian's, holding him by the back of the neck to be sure he didn't draw away from the surprise. Dorian wouldn't have forfeited the kiss anyway, but he appreciated the added contact. His hands balled to fists against Michael's chest. When their lips finally parted, he asked, "what was that about?"
"You're an adorable guy, at least from what I've seen. And I'd like to see more. Not just sex, but dinner. Would you care to try a date with me?"