Context: Anzo and Huxley meet while Anzo is on his first leave in the big city. They have just gone on a lovely date and are now back at Huxley's place. Anzo knows he's a suspicious character, but he thinks Huxley is cute enough to sleep with. Then he immediately catches big dumb feelings. Behold:
Anzo's heart was in his throat. It wasn't often that he found himself in a strange man's bedroom; he was much more of a brothel-going type. The men he met there were professionals, they were discreet. To be invited up to someone's room felt like he was stepping under a spotlight. But he focused on keeping his fingers steady as they popped the buttons on his uniform, one by one. Because despite his frayed nerves, his blood was pumping and he was feeling very hot under the collar.
Huxley had shed his clothing with a practiced ease, and he reclined on the bedspread to watch Anzo peel himself out of his uniform. There was a hint of amusement behind his eyes, but that smile was warm.
"They must work you hard down there, yeah?"
"Oh?"
Huxley nodded toward him. "You're a strapping fellow under that uniform."
Anzo looked down at himself, now bare above the waist. "I suppose."
"You suppose?" Huxley scoffed. "You're a modest one."
Anzo cleared his throat and stepped out of his trousers. It was hard to keep his eyes off the man, lying there as sensually he was. Huxley was so terribly handsome. He had long, shapely legs. A trail of hair from his chest down along his belly. He must have been drawn by a master’s hand, elegant lines sweeping all the way down.
"Nervous?"
Anzo blinked. "What? No- No, it's just been a while. With the- well. You know."
Huxley winked at him. "Well then, we'll start slow. Get you back to speed."
He beckoned Anzo and Anzo obeyed without hesitation, crawling onto the bed beside him. Nerves aside, Anzo's cock almost painfully stiff from the anticipation. It had been weeks since he'd gotten so much as a moment alone, much less a night with some handsome stranger.
"Just take it easy." Huxley leaned in close. "We'll have fun tonight, yeah?"
He kissed like a lover would, all lips and tongue and teeth. He had the gentle smell of lavender cologne sweeping across his body. Beneath the floorboards, someone was banging on an out-of-tune piano, and someone else had brought a brass horn into the mix. Muffled laughter and clapping. Over the ruckus, Anzo could hear his own tail thumping against the bedspread. He hadn't realized he was doing it.
Huxley guided Anzo's hand toward his thigh, and Anzo took his cue from there. His skin felt so warm beneath Anzo’s fingers, so soft and inviting. Anzo bit back his nerves enough to keep his hand steady as he stroked the inside of Huxley's thigh, and it earned a warm murmur of approval. He moved his fingers higher and higher up...
Beneath golden hair, a pink slit, already wet. Huxley purred and there were teeth nipping his ears as Anzo traced up and down those wet folds. Up and down, gently spreading them apart. Then he brought the tip of his finger to trace teasing circles around that fat clit. He was erect already, and Huxley ground his hips into Anzo's touch. He took the hint and began rubbing with a firmer hand, more insistent. Around and around, and then back down between those folds. Back up again, rubbing his clit. Huxley was almost purring by then.
Anzo's finger easily slipped in, and he began stroking Huxley from the inside. All the while, Huxley had his hands running through Anzo's hair, across his back, up to his ears. He moaned without reservation, though his voice was drowned out by the ruckus from downstairs. Anzo slipped a second finger inside of him, and he crooked his fingers as he stroked. A come hither motion.
Huxley's chest rose and fell rapidly. His eyes pinched shut and his head lolled back. His hair flowed onto the pillow like a lion's mane. He truly looked beautiful in that moment, flush and panting. Beads of sweat formed at his temples. Anzo's gentle strokes had grown firmer, quicker, more insistent. He carefully watched the pleasure building in Huxley's face, trying to ignore the strain in his wrist.
But it did the job. Tender flesh seized around his fingers, and Huxley bucked his hips into Anzo’s hand. He cursed under his breath and balled up the sheets in white-knuckled fists. That long tail curled up tight then slapped against the sheets. He gave a long, low groan as he shuddered and squirmed. Through it all, Anzo's hand was drenched and his cock was throbbing.
As Huxley settled back against the sheets, he heaved a long sigh. "You're much too modest," he murmured, brushing the hair from his face. "You come in, blushing and acting all coy. But you know how to please a man." He had a smile that stretched ear to ear. He beckoned Anzo to climb up on him, and Anzo again obeyed. "And you want to fuck me now, don't you?"
"I do," Anzo said, breathless.
"Then show me what kind of man you are, Mister Ayers."
He used a hand to guide his cock in, and Huxley was more than ready to meet him. Anzo forced himself to start slow. In, and out. Anything more vigorous, and he'd risk losing his inhibitions much too soon. He wanted to savor all of it. In the fantasy of the moment, it wasn't hard for Anzo to believe he was in love. The way Huxley held him as they thrust their bodies into each other, breathing heavy, low moans and soothing whispers. All the ugliness and the pain of the world melted away, there and then, and the only thing that mattered was the beautiful body beneath him.
Anzo leaned down to nuzzle his nose into Huxley's neck, and he quickened his pace. Sweat dripped down his spine, and Huxley wrapped his legs around Anzo's hips. This man wasn't a stranger, he was warm comfort, blissful relief. A gentle light burning in cold darkness. They fit together perfectly, as though crafted by knowing hands.
Their rutting had become fast, animalistic. The cacophony of flesh colliding against flesh, deep carnal moans. Huxley was goading him on in a deep, heady whisper. Fuck me, he said. Over and over. In and out and in and out. Teeth on his ear then, the sharp point of fangs pricking past the fur. Hands up and down his back, hairy thighs clenching him in place. It was too much to bear.
Anzo's entire body shuddered as he hit climax. Rope after rope of hot cum, weeks of pent up arousal bursting like a breached dam. Huxley groaned his approval and held him close as he rode the pleasure out. With a heavy sigh, Anzo finally began to regain his senses. He looked down at Huxley, who gazed back at him through heavy-lidded eyes, a full grin melted across his face.
"Wow," was all Huxley could bring himself to say.
Anzo had no words. He was spent, he was exhausted. But he felt so warm, so light. He collapsed in bed next to Huxley, who already had a puddle of sticky white pooling from his cunt, splayed and well-fucked.
"I mean- wow." Huxley laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose I expected you to be a timid lover. Glad to be proven wrong, though. Haven’t been fucked like that in ages.”
Still, Anzo had no reply. His heart was pounding, and it rattled every inch of his body.
Huxley offered him a cigarette, and Anzo gladly accepted. While Huxley wandered off, bow-legged, to the bathroom to clean up, Anzo reclined and pulled the sheets up. A warm breeze wafted in through the window, and the city below still thrummed with life. Talking, laughing, singing, cavorting. Down in the tavern, Anzo could hear the crowd stomping and clapping. On that night, everyone was terribly grateful to be alive. Anzo counted himself among them.
Then, the muffled sound of shattering glass. The brass screeched to a halt. Shouting, shouting, cursing, brawling.
"Party's over," Huxley said, collapsing into bed. He lit his own cigarette and curled up next to Anzo. "You ought to spend the night here, I'm sure you're tired."
A rowdy crowd spilled out into the street, cursing and spitting before wandering off to find some place to continue the night elsewhere. The tavern below was much quieter now, save for a radio still playing a notch too loud.
"Every night, it's like this," Huxley said. "Soldiers make for rambunctious crowds."