Threshold of Passion
"Threshold of Passion"
by K.M.Hirosaki ([email protected])
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story and all characters are copyright © 2008 K.M. Hirosaki.
"I don't normally lift my tail for someone the first time I'm at their place."
It really amuses me that I said that. Not just because the thought of you fucking me is one of those things that can bring a pleasant tingle between my legs whenever it crosses my mind, nor is it because you're fucking me right now and I can scarcely imagine that there was a time I'd ever try to discourage you.
The amusing thing is that it wasn't even really true. Usually when I'm drunk and horny (especially as drunk and horny as I was that night), my tail goes up into the air faster than a bottle rocket. For some reason, though, I tried to pretend like I wasn't that sort of guy, and you respected me for that and I liked that you respected me, even if I did go on to suck you off anyway, which, to be honest, had been my plan even before you got me drunk off of Kamikazes.
Seeing the look in your eyes right now, as your paws hold my shoulders down onto the bed--seeing the way your handsome vulpine muzzle curls up with little growls as you thrust into me--seeing that mix of lust and tenderness on your face that I've come to know so well. That's how I know I'm having an excellent weekend.
But then, weekends with you are always excellent, aren't they? Sure, you and I end up in this position a lot (with me on the bed and you on top of me, whether I'm on my back or on my belly), but that's not all we have, and we both know it. I started coming by frequently because you were cool to hang out with, and yeah, sometimes we got to playing around and that was a real nice bonus.
Then I started coming by and I'd stay the night. Then I started coming by and I'd stay the weekend.
Now I almost never see the inside of my own house, unless I'm stopping by to get some new clothes or snag some book that I can read while I sit on your bed and wait for you to come home.
The way that you start to growl a little louder while starting to work your hips faster makes my own pulse race faster, in turn. Your more dominant sounds always have a way of getting to me; I guess it's something about your primal instincts tweaking my own primal instincts. Behind you, I can sometimes glimpse your bushy red tail wag into view, and that reminds me of those other sounds that I know you can make--the delightful, delightful whimpers and squeaks that I can coax out of you by sticking my own slender muzzle up beneath your tail and letting my tongue go to town.
I start to giggle at that, and you give me a curious look, which just makes me giggle more because it looks kind of funny because your expression is warped by the fact that you're still fucking me and you can't keep that from entirely showing in your face, either. You get nervous sometimes, I know, so I just kiss you and say nothing so that you can relax and--well, no, I don't want you to relax; I just don't want you to be distracted from the matter at hand.
This is the part where you usually begin to really pound me nice and fast, and so it surprises me when, instead, you slink down closer to me, so that we're almost chest-to-chest, and you actually slow your thrusts down. Our muzzles are close, side by side, and I can see my breath making your whiskers move while I can feel your breath making my whiskers do the same. You grunt a few times, and so do I, and God, wow, you're getting nice and deep now, aren't you, stud?
Sometimes it can be hard to tell the difference between "fucking" and "lovemaking." Heck, sometimes there isn't a difference, and sometimes one is better than the other. I think this, right here, started as the former and has since turned into the latter, which is also okay. I think if it were still "fucking," you'd have already gotten off, which would be a shame because I sure as hell know that I'm not ready for it to end yet.
Besides, remember what you said just a few minutes ago? The part where you promised to pound my cute little ass until I came all over myself and my cries woke the neighbors up?
I think that this might turn from lovemaking back into fucking before we're done.
That might not sound that romantic, but it really just reinforces how much I like you, and how I like you in so many different ways, for all these different things. You're usually really nice and sweet, and you know me well enough to know, without my saying, when I'm in the mood for you to treat me like the naughty fox I tried to convince you I wasn't back on that first night I came back to your place.
You get my attention back as you gasp, and then lick your lips. I remember that one time you told me that you love how I lick my lips before going in for a kiss, just like you do, but I can tell that if we tried to kiss now, we'd both end up hyperventilating. Besides, I don't think I could keep my muzzle closed right now if I wanted to. Those awesome, deep thrusts are really hitting home, and if I can't gasp or yelp, I might just explode.
And speaking of exploding, there goes your paw, wrapping right back down around my cock, pumping and stroking as your hips lose some of their rhythm. My whole body twists beneath you, and I catch that toothy little grin you flash as you hear the drawn-out whimper that escapes me. Your thumb teases along the tip of my shaft, smearing my leakiness around but mostly just tweaking what you know is my most sensitive spot. Fuck, you're good.
You do try to kiss me, but it's just a sweet little nudge with your lips against my chin. Your hips press in against my rump and go still for a while as you touch your nose to mine and catch your breath. "I..." you start, and then you pause before trying again. "I..." Still no further than just that one word. You bite your lip and grunt quietly, and it's so cute. "Well, you know how much I like you."
It's a delicate little whisper, and if I thought my heart was racing before, then I was wrong, because now it's racing. I usually hate being at a loss for words during sex, but I'm too happy right now to sweat the small stuff, you know?
"Same here," I whisper back to you, and I just smile, because I know that we both know what the other means, even if now isn't the time to say it yet.
Then, the moment is passed, and you suddenly slide back a ways and roll me onto my left side. You grab my legs, making me squeak, freeing my tail from underneath me. I groan again as you drape my right leg over your shoulder as you take advantage of every bit of leverage you can muster. You give me a few seconds to catch my breath again, but after that, that lust of yours is back in control.
From this angle, you can really get me nice and deep, and right now, that's all that I can think of wanting. Your thrusting almost has me blind, because my eyes keep rolling up into the back of my head. I try to pace my gasping and whimpering with your hip movements, and I start to succeed before you grab hold of my shaft again, much easier to get at now, in this new position.
I think I really like this new position.
We continue like that, with you driving into me with all that passion and desire, and my lying on my side, taking it like a pro, doing my absolute best to contain myself, to not lose my own control, to keep everything inside for as--
No, you know what? Fuck it. This is real and raw. This is one of those precious few times where "fucking" and "lovemaking" are indistinguishable, and you've already gotten me so worked up that I'd hate to waste the feeling that's all bound up in my chest right now.
So I let it happen. I let myself go. I don't even try to fight it. I give in to the pleasure you're giving me, and I feel my body shudder along the spine as I catch the sight of my first spurt actually clearing the side of the bed.
My muzzle tightens like a vice for a second, then it wrenches itself open. Yeah, my cries are definitely going to wake the neighbors.