FSE

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I found Deya over by the glossy, chemical smell of the periodicals after following his musky elk trail through shelves of wood so old they'd lost their scent, sharp new paper and spine glue and traces of leather binding for the nostalgic books. Deya flicked over the page of a magazine as I came over to wrap an arm around his waist. He shifted his arm, his elbow resting comfortably on my shoulder, and I pressed my nose into his shirt. "I'm booooooored."

He turned another page. "Jenny's only halfway through her list."

My big ears perked up. "How much longer do you think she'll be?"

"I don't know. Another twenty minutes maybe. You want to get a coffee?"

"No." I tugged him away. "I want to show you something."

"Oh." He replaced the magazine and chuckled. "All right, hon. Where is it?"

I grabbed his broad hand from my shoulder and tugged him down the aisle, around the corner, avoiding a pair of sharp-smelling red foxes absorbed in a low conversation, and through a rickety wooden door.

"Kesh, I know where the bathrooms are." Deya sounded amused.

"Not that," I said, and hurried to the second door on the left. "This."

I pulled it open and yanked him inside. He stepped in and paused as I closed the door, looking around, I guess. "A storage room?"

My thumb clicked the door handle. "With a door that locks."

"Hah." He understood then, and his hands reached down to cup my muzzle. "Foxy, I don't know...Jenny'll be done soon..."

"Oh," I said, unbuckling his belt, "you said twenty minutes."

"I was guessing." He wasn't resisting, though, not as my fingers unsnapped his jeans and pushed them and his boxers down. The strong male scent of his sheath rose to me, and I cupped my paws around it, bending down to lap at the tip.

"If you stop thinking about Jenny, it shouldn't take that long, should it?"

His only response was a soft grunt, so I hooked the box I was standing next to with a foot and slid it over.

The difference in our heights means that if I'm standing, my muzzle comes to the bottom of his chest; if I kneel, it comes to the middle of his thigh. At home, either he kneels on the bed while I stand, or I sit in a chair, or I just push him down on the bed where height isn't a problem. I'd guessed that the box was the right height when I'd found it in the room and I'd been right; I got my paws around his rear, and my muzzle was level with the top of his sheath and the now-protruding tip of his cock.

So I held onto his soft butt with one paw, cupped the other under his balls, and listened to the heavy rhythm of his breathing quicken as more and more of his length slid out to meet my tongue. Deya is the only elk I've ever been with, and he says he's small for an elk, in which case he'll probably be the only elk I'll ever be with (hopefully for other reasons too). He's just big enough that I can fit him in my muzzle without too much stretching; ditto my rear. The length is a problem for me, but he's sensitive enough at the tip that that's really the area I need to focus on.

And I'm good at focusing there. I like having it against my tongue, because it feels neat and because he makes cute noises when I lick it the right way, like a big truck trying to get its motor running. Plus the smell is pretty great. If you've never had a big musky elk getting all excited up in your face, well, I recommend it is all. But go find your own.

So anyway, my tail was pretty waggy as I was going down on him in this back storage room, and I could hear him clenching his jaw shut so he wouldn't get too loud. Of course, that just made me tease him more, trying to get a louder sound out of him.

A couple times while I was still getting him all the way hard, people walked by the door to and from the bathroom, and I imagined them finding out that there was a blow job going on ten feet from them. Blowing Deya was enough to get me hard just on its own. Adding the presence of people outside got me wriggling my hips to rub my shaft against the inside of my underwear.

He noticed, of course. The rings on his left hand clinked as he moved it to my shoulder, rubbing gently. "Time to do you after?"

I pulled off his shaft and rubbed fingers up it. "Probably not, but that's okay. I just wanted to get you off."

"I don't want to leave you like this."

"Well, where's Jenny taking us after this? A restaurant? They'll have a bathroom."

I dropped my muzzle back to his shaft, and he let out a grunt of surprise. "Uff. I thought we weren't doing restaurant bathrooms anymore."

With a slurp, I pulled back and tilted my head up. "We can have this conversation, or I can keep blowing you."

"Uh-huh." His hand came to the back of my head and pulled it forward.

"Thought so," I murmured, and took him in again.

He was all the way hard by this point, so I kept one paw on his shaft as much to feel its warmth and shape in my fingers as to hold it steady, because in about a minute his hips were going to start shaking. His fingers stayed on my head, rubbing the fur between my ears, and the smell of my saliva mixed with his musk.

I knew that smell; it meant I was doing something right. Deya wasn't always easy to get off, especially when he was distracted with his job. He managed a bunch of stores all over the western third of the country, and there was always something going wrong at one of them. Today he'd told us that while he was going to check in periodically, he was leaving his work phone in the car.

Well, Jenny had made him do that, actually, because last time she'd gone out with us, to the Escuela St. antique market, Deya'd taken a work call and been on it for an hour while the rest of us wandered through the market. I'd never ask him to put the work aside, but Jenny, a sharp possum from Crockett, said flat out that she wasn't going out with us again unless Deya left his phone behind for at least some of the day.

Dammit, now I was thinking about Jenny. It didn't matter so much if I did it, because I could keep on sucking cock even while thinking about friends, but really I should be thinking about my big guy and focusing on how close he was. His hips trembled, and I thought, here we go, just a couple more minutes, he's really into it. I could hear the change in him, too: the truck was revving up in his chest, the engine really warming up (make your own piston joke, because I'm not going to).

A little splash of pre hit my tongue, and in return I curled it around the ridges at his tip. He jerked back and hit the wall with a muffled, "Nnnf," and then thrust forward again. My paw tightened around his shaft, my tail wagged, and--

--his phone chimed.

"Uh-uh," I said, keeping his cock in my mouth and trying to intercept his paw as he bent and reached for his phone.

"Kesh," he said, "no, let me--"

My earpiece beeped. "Group message from Jenny," came the silky phone voice in my ear. "Hey, where are you guys?"

Deya'd pushed my paw aside. "It's my personal phone, hon."

I lifted my muzzle as he pulled the phone from his pocket. "It's Jenny," I said. "Wondering where we are. You said we had twenty minutes!"

"Maybe she wants to show me something." He tapped at his phone. "I'll just tell her we'll be there in a minute."

His shaft softened in my paw as he typed. "There," he said finally, and put the phone back in his pocket.

"Group message from Your Boyfriend," the phone said in my ear. "Kesh is showing me something back in a minute."

"I taught you how to use commas," I muttered, rubbing his shaft. It wasn't getting any harder. His phone buzzed again.

"Group message from Jenny. I hope he's not showing you his cock."

"She's asking if we're fooling around," I said. "You don't have to answer it."

Deya straightened and leaned back against the wall. "All right."

I ran my paws up and down his thighs, nuzzling his shaft, giving it a few licks. "No," I said. "You've lost it. I don't think you can finish in my muzzle now."

"I can," he insisted. His rings clinked and his hand came back to my head.

I reached down to unbuckle my own pants. "Nope. You're going to have to come in me."

My whiskers and nose caught the stiffening of his shaft as I pushed my pants down, then lifted my shirt and tucked it against my chest so it wouldn't hang down and get messy. "You sure?"

I spit in my paw once, then again, and a third time, and reached around to lube myself up as I stood. "Sure I'm sure. But hurry up. Spit dries faster than lube."

"Hfff." He grabbed my hips, and the precious box was just the right height--give or take an inch--for him to get that spit-slick shaft right up there under my tail. His hands grabbed my sides just above my hips and he pushed himself into me.

It hurt a little, like I knew it would without proper lube, but it also went in pretty easily. There wasn't anything soft about him now, as he worked himself in and then started thrusting in earnest.

He was less worried about people outside hearing us now. It was a good thing he didn't have his antlers this time of year, because I could hear his head smack back into the wall, and the antlers would've made a hell of a lot more racket.

(Get it? Rack-et? Okay, that's the only one, I promise.)

I wasn't all that quiet myself, but my sounds tend to be more squeaky-breathy. I don't have a chest the size of a small car for all that air to bounce around in, or a neck as thick as my waist.

Neither of us minded. Like I sort of said earlier, it's partly his noises that get me all worked up, and when he's fucking me from behind like he was then, I get the feeling that I'm on the front of a locomotive and we're barreling forward at amazing speeds. It's exhilarating and a little scary, and it's best when he just holds me and drives his cock into me at his own pace.

That leaves me, like it did this time, hanging out flopping, so like I usually do, I took care of myself. My cock is the one place where our size difference doesn't show that much; he might be small for an elk, but I'm big for a fennec, and if you put our cocks side by side, well, he's still bigger, but not by much. Half an inch of length, maybe a quarter inch around. We only measured a couple times and got different numbers both times, but having had my paw around both, I know we're close.

And I tell you, when he's pushing that big length into me, hitting all those sensitive areas on the inside, we get close in another way. This time was no exception. I clenched around him and leaned a little bit forward against his grip and slid my slick paw up and down my own cock, and--

"Group message from Jenny. Wash up when you're done. Wink."

"Fuck," I growled through my teeth. "Don't answer that."

"Couldn't," he panted, "if I...wanted to."

I like blow jobs a little better than getting fucked, but Deya's the opposite; he'd never be this close if I just had him in my muzzle. Plus this way I got to get off, too.

He came first, a deep rumbling moan like an earthquake behind me, a train shuddering on the tracks. His cock slammed hard into me in that quick thrusting rhythm that comes with orgasm, and while I couldn't quite feel the warmth flooding me, I could imagine it just fine, and that was plenty.

He was just coming down in huffs from his climax when I reached back to squeeze his hand with one paw while the other pumped my cock and my whole body tightened, shuddered, spasmed, and my own sharp musk reached my nose as my seed spattered out onto the stone floor.

"Ah-huh," he panted behind me. "Ah-huh."

I echoed his noises in a sped-up 2x way, and he pulled me back against him. "You are such a naughty fox."

"Well," I murmured, flicking my tail back between his legs, "you'd never get in trouble if I wasn't around to help."

He breathed in and exhaled over my ears. "That's for sure." His arms circled my chest, and his fingers teased down my stomach to my cock, running along it. "You made a mess. About a foot in front of you."

"I know," I said. "My nose isn't blind."

He chuckled softly, body vibrating like an aftershock, and kissed my ear. "All right, hon. Go clean up yourself, and I'll clean up in here."

I worked myself free of him and turned, lifting my muzzle for a kiss. When I'd gotten it, I smiled. "Love you," I said.

His basso profundo followed me as I hopped sideways off the box to avoid my mess. "Love you too," he said, and I kept that loveliest of sounds in my ears as I pulled my pants up and slipped out the door.