Dude, Where’s Your Pants?
Who's downstairs, he wondered...better check it out. You never know who's wandering around this neighborhood.
Dude, Where's Your Pants?
*
I was this art on the front page What do you mean "Where are your pants?" and was intrigued enough to hit up
furronymousto ask him if it would be okay to use his art and write something that popped my mind pretty soon after viewing the above piece. So here you go, something nice for y'all, hope you like it, and looking forward to your comments and other feedback!
Art belongs to furronymous
Story is Gruffy
Smutcheck by SecondGruffy
*
BADA-BOUM!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The noise reverberated from downstairs and made Tom feel like someone had set off fireworks inside his head. The loud, clattering bang tickled on some primal instinct within the tiger's brain, he would think under circumstances when he was more in the control of his wits, and it caused him to jump onto an upright position on the bed, ears trained to seek the source of the infernal interruption into his nice and peaceful Friday (by now Saturday) night sleep.
He held his breath and listened, for the space of a few heartbeats, before he got out of his bed.
"Not if I can help it," Tom grunted as he stepped over to the closet and recovered the baseball bat, his tail swinging behind him aggressively as the tiger, clad only in boxers, grabbed his weapon of choice.
If someone was really invading his home, he thought, anything short of semi-automatic weapons would not stop him from defending it. If it was some meth head punks looking for a TV to sell to get a fix...well they'd be better collecting those rotten teeth from the floor.
He scrambled down the stairs, bat held at ready and trying to keep his breaths steady while he gazed about rapidly. The way was clear, he saw, though the streetlamp light coming through did not seem normal. He soon realized why. The front door was straight open to the street, and the cone of light spread further than when it came through just the oval-shaped window.
"Shit..." Tom growled.
"...hpmpphhshhh..."
_ _
He could hear unintelligible noises from the right...enough to make him turn his head towards the partially open door into the kitchen. A bit of light was coming through...but the lights were not on. Maybe a flashlight...
Fuckers, trying to steal the microwave?
_ _
Tom knew that the sensible thing would've been to lock himself in the bedroom and call the cops and hope they would not come up trying to find prescription meds in the bathroom (because he'd heard that happened too), but he was not thinking clearly. He was going to step over to that door into the kitchen and hit on the lights and yell a terrifying tiger roar and tell the fuckers to get off his property or he would shove that bat up their asses and -
"YOU PUT THAT DOWN YOU FUCKERS AND YOU GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE AND - "
_ _
That's what he thought, as he slammed the door open and hit the switch and -
"KEVIN!"
That's what came out of his muzzle, and the bat froze in the air as he held it in an aggressive angle, staring into the room where he expected to find a crime scene but instead discovered oranges scattered over the tiled floor, and down near the dishwasher was the steel bowl they used for keeping them for breakfast and display purposes.
Kevin was splayed on the floor next to the open fridge, crumpled down with his had down and tail bent in a weird angle while he made what must've beet one of several attempts to get up, but ended up aborting the act with a grunt and a rumble, and instead he just huffed.
"Humph...shhhooot..."
The lion was obviously drunk, but that was hardly a shock for his striped roommate. What he didn't expect was the shape he was in otherwise. Yes, that old college jersey was what he wore when he headed out to meet with a 'Brendan' and an 'Oscar', but somewhere on the way he had lost everything else so that he was actually lying on the floor perfectly naked from the waist down.
"Urgh...eh..."
The lion swung his legs up as he seemed to be trying to use the shifting of his weight to get himself up, but his level of inebriation made such complex maneuvers impossible for now.
What it did accomplish was to make his big, dangling balls jostle against his taint, but Tom almost missed the sight of that, otherwise way too occupied with staring at the lion who was somehow managing to balance a beer bottle in one paw, though the splatter of dark blotches on the floor seemed to indicate that he had not been entirely successful. The open fridge suggested he had not come home carrying it, at least...how he had managed to open it without destroying half of the kitchen remained a mystery.
"Kevin, what the hell?" Tom's ears drooped as quickly as the bat he still held loosely in one paw, the other being needed for angry rubbing of his muzzle.
"...thirsty...kinda cold...hah...kinda warm..."
"You're out of this world," Tom shook his head, "Jesus Christ, man, what happened to you?"
"Tequila!" the lion rumbled. "And cinnamon whiskey..."
He burped loudly and for a moment Tom was afraid that he was going to need that bowl for something else than its intended purpose, but the lion continued to chuckle merrily before he took a swig from his bottle that left foam on his muzzle fuzz.
"Hmmmmph..."
"You're a mess..." Tom huffed, "where the hell's your pants?"
Kevin glanced down his slightly bent body and shrugged.
"I had them on before..." he mumbled.
"You had them when you left for sure, but don't know since then," Tom said, "your wallet, keys, your ID, driver's license..."
"I'm thirsty..." Kevin grunted and went for the bottle, but only managed to splash more beer onto his jersey, the grey cloth becoming almost black. He almost seemed to drop the bottle, too, which would've made an additional mess, but at least that was the extend of the damage.
"You've drank enough," Tom declared. He put the baseball bat down next to the door and stomped over, to stand by the lion so that he could bend down to pull the beer bottle away from what he expected to be slack fingers.
"HEEEEEY...!"
The lion resisted, and his other paw batted on Tom's arm, going in defense of the beverage that was being commandeered from him.
"Heyyythatsmiiiine - "
"You're not drinking any more tonight, you're going to bed and - "
"You sourpuss - "
"Kevin - "
"Fuck - "
The lion tried kicking him with one of his legs but it fell short and just swung through the air, and he almost toppled over too, unable to keep his posture very well. It did propel his stiff cock into the air and made it then slap against his bare belly, loud enough that it made Tom look down. He hasn't really looked...not now, because the situation was so ridiculous and he was worked up form the act of being woken up by what he now knew was his housemate entering and crashing into the kitchen in search of an emergency beverage. By the sight of his impressive (Tom hated to admit, bigger than his own) erection, the intoxication was having other kind of effects, too, besides a craving for a cold brown bottle.
"Bastard - "
"Don't - "
Tom wrestled the bottle away from Kevin's fingers and put it up to the kitchen island before the lion could make a lunge for it, and then placed his paw onto the lion's shoulder.
"You're gonna tell me where your pants are and then we'ere gonna put you to bed and you'll sleep this off," Tom told his housemate in a voice he hoped to have as calming effect as a cup of extra strong coffee.
"Buuuh...it was a dead night anyway, could only keep on drinking..." the lion shook his head, made a face, burped and scowled, "nobody sexy and interested around..."
"You went to a regular bar with your two straight friends and complain about the lack of tail," Tom clicked his tongue, "damn, man, what's wrong - "
"I know who could be interested..." Kevin crooned, his paw groggily reaching for the tiger's groin only covered in his sleepy boxers at the moment.
"Humph!" Tom gasped when he felt the fumbling fingers land on his sheath and balls and give them a grope. "Letoff..."
"Oh come on, Tommy, just - "
The tiger grabbed the lion's paw and dropped it away from his threateningly swelling groin, and huffed again, loudly, to his roommate's face."
"It's something like five in the morning, you're drunk and your pants have disappeared with your wallet and who knows what and I'm up and I thought someone was breaking in to steal the espresso machine and - "
"You talk toooo muuuuuuch..." the lion chuckled while waving a paw in the air, seemingly again trying to reach for the tiger's now more full boxers.
"No, I'm just telling you what to do now, dude."
"Kevin, man - "
"Just a little fuuuuck..." the lion slurred while trying his best to avoid the tiger's more nimble paws while going for his waistband, "a little teeny weeny buttfuuuck...."
"You're not in any condition to do anything but haul your butt to bed," Tom told the lion, though his eyes lingered in the sight of the big cat's nonwilting erection. It only seemed like he'd just grown harder...still at full mast despite being drunk as the proverbial skunk, lying on the uncomfortable tiled floor and certainly not having a very good time. His grin and his boner spoke otherwise, though, glassy eyes or not.
"But my butt is so niiice..." the lion wriggled his rear and batted his tail on the tiles, "and my hole's so empty...look at it, Tommy..."
The tiger couldn't help but look, of course, the familiar pucker nestled under the lion's heavy balls. He couldn't deny that it looked inviting there, a hint of dark skin, and just a touch of pink skin...right along the middle of the partition of that wrinkle he wasn't supposed to be looking at, but the lion's wriggling hips and the wanton angle of his tail...and his body...he grew harder in his sheath and seeing the lion's thick organ -
"No, no, you should - "
"Come ooon..."
"We..." Tom swallowed, "we agreed we'd do this properly and not just spend all the time fucking around..."
"It's been weeks," the lion rumbled, "and I need cock..."
The tiger bit his teeth together, feeling blood pulse in his groin. Their agreement in sharing the house had involved everything about dalliances, and how they should not affect their living conditions, keep things neat and polite and comfortable for both, the pair of good friends who were splitting the costs...because it was the reasonable thing to do, after all...it wasn't about having convenient access to a laid back, familiar sexuall partner -
"Come on..."
Tom was just staring and he almost lost the fact that the lion was groping his groin once again, and his other paw was going to his own thick, lovely, oozing cock...rearing up so splendidly from the lion's loins.
"Fuck you," the tiger grunted.
"No, fuck me..."
The tiger heaved himself over and was on top of the lion in a moment, legs falling over his hips and his muzzle finding the lion's beer-sloppy one before their tongues pressed together. Paws grabbed over his back and stroked on the tiger's striped furs, and Tom almost lost his shorts while humping onto the lion's crotch. He was fully hard by now and it was hardly needed to work to get him properly aroused...it'd been a while for him, a prospective date last weekend had been cancelled and he was -
He was horny and he was balls to balls with a certified lay, and he wanted that now.
"Gonna fuck you," he growled, deep and damp, "gonna just - "
Kevin grabbed his arm.
"You ain't going anywhere," he said, "just grab something, anything!"
Tom's heated eyes glanced at the fridge. They bounced up and down the shelves, the door, the milk cartons with little pearls of water on them from the condensation that glowed in the glint of the light inside the fridge pouring cool air over their warm bodies. With the lion humping wantonly up to him, poking his belly with his dick, it was difficult to think, let alone concentrate....
"Not the butter!" the lion yammered.
Tom grunted, but moved his paw to grab a bottle instead.
"This?"
"As long as it ain't BBQ sauce," Kevin breathed, "come on, fuck me with that big cock..."
Tom tore himself from the lion's body only long enough to kick away his boxers and open the bottle he held.
"Shit it's cold!"
The cooking oil still wasn't enough to make his cock wilt, nor it seemed to harm Kevin, who purred deeply when the greasy, slick fingers touched up on his butthole and tried to pry it apart with their tips, succeeding only to penetrate a little and shine the bare flesh with the oil. Tom glanced at the barely lubed hole and decided to add another palmful on his shaft, screw the consequences to his state of grooming. Seeing that warm snug hole there was enough to make him forget everything else, even the hard tiles, when he leaned forward over the lion, face in a concentrated scowl.
"Let's make it warm."
The first truth didn't go anywhere...the next, besides moans and grunts, gained some headway...formed by another, Tom's ass cheeks clenching as he used his entire body to put weight onto his attempt to penetrate the lion.
The fourth time, his head popped in, and the lion moaned, gasped, his head throwing back against the cabinet door.
"Ah that's the spoooot..."
Another thrust and he was in, and the pull back made it into a pumping motion, enough to encourage the tiger to start a proper humping action back and forth, diving deeper into the lion's oiled rump.
It was rough and a little bit too dry, but they managed, snarling, grunting and huffing while their bodies smacked together. Tom rocked his just hips in and out, his arms braced on the sides while Kevin's eyes rolled and his breathing grew ragged from the act of being taken deeply on the kitchen floor.
He barely needed the paw to finish him off, shooting cum all over his body, followed soon by his snarling housemate flooding his innards with another load that left him panting and tingling and vaguely unaware of his surroundings.
"My bed tonight," Kevin told him, "I need something warm tonight, and not just your cock..."
The tiger's shaft twitched within the lion's ass, and he let out a deep breath.
"AAahh..."
*
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Cheerio!