The Purple Crown: Part 2

- Horndog D -

The tiled walls amplify the sharp squeak of the knob as Eric shuts off the water. For several seconds he stands motionless under the dripping showerhead, luxuriating in the sensation of hot steam caressing his skin. He feels serene, having made peace with the circumstances.

A lot of things finally make sense. Ronan's disinterest in dating, the furtive conversations he'd have with other guys in college, the vague responses to questions about his tastes in women... The more Eric thinks, the more naive he feels for taking so long to realize his closest friend was that way. The revelation comes to him without alarm or disgust, but with a faintly melancholic pang in the pit of his stomach. In almost a decade of friendship, why did Ronan never tell him about such a deeply personal aspect of himself?

Eric's eyes open slowly, water dripping from his bangs. "What were you so afraid of?" he wonders aloud.

The wall of steam slowly dissipates, exposing a subtle variation of shades in the light blue tiles all around him, each glossy square appearing to hold a piece of sky captured at a different time of day. The awareness of his surroundings brings Eric a sense of reassurance. Whatever motive Ronan had for remaining in the closet all those years, inviting him to a gay massage parlor can't be construed as anything other than the panther's own eccentric way of coming out. Eric chuckles. His buddy really can't do anything halfway.

Eric stretches, renewed energy filling his veins. His hooves tap across the floor tiles as he retrieves a fresh towel off a wall-mounted rack. His skin still tingles slightly as he dries himself, his body feeling refreshed, his every sense heightened. Whatever happens next, Eric is unquestionably glad he decided to come here. The massage really was something else, the mere thought of Mikhail's hands on his body awakening a pleasurable throb in the base of his swinging cock. He wraps the towel tight around his waist and pulls open the door marked as the entrance to the spa area.

A puff of steam rushes into the large room ahead of Eric, swirling away to reveal what at first sight appears to be a replica of an ancient Roman bath house. Fluted columns stand between elaborate mosaics on the walls and a pair of wide plunge baths. Modern features such as a double row of showers along one wall and several in-ground hot tubs break the illusion of antiquity; as for the men fucking, Eric can't be sure about the historical accuracy of such things.

Venturing a few steps onto the textured cement, Eric's head jerks to the left when he spots a lion reclining in a lounge chair. The large cat is older, his thick mane streaked sparingly with gray. Like most of the spa patrons, he is totally naked and uncovered, leisurely stroking the impressive length of his erection. Their eyes meet only momentarily, the lion's focus quickly returning elsewhere. Eric follows his gaze to a pair of men on the opposite edge of the nearest plunge bath. A white-tailed deer stands knee-deep in the shallower side of the pool, humping into a zebra on all fours beside the water.

The passing notion of decorum makes Eric consider looking away, but he reasons modesty is unnecessary in such a place. Besides that, the sight fascinates him, the way the buck's taut ass thrusts forward into the dark divide of fleshy taint between the striped cheeks atop the zebra's thighs. Each thrust comes fast and hard, yet with a certain fluidity of movement that seems oddly graceful. The motions are familiar to Eric, but he watches with the unbroken concentration of a virgin. The undulation of muscle in the deer's legs and back, the flash of pink tongue darting across his lips, the way his fingers dig into the zebra's abdomen... This is sex as Eric has never seen it, even in pornography. He marvels at the intensity of it, the sheer physicality.

The couple are some distance away, but even above the ambient noise of the spa Eric can hear the rhythmic slap of each powerful penetration and the heavy moans of the rutting deer. And not just the deer. "Yeah," the zebra says. His voice barely audible, he says, "Harder. Really fuckin' slam it."

Eric realizes the zebra's head isn't lowered in shame or a display submission, but in stern concentration obviously meant to stave off an impending orgasm. A flawlessly black equine cock bobs under his belly, the tip flared and dangling a string of pre that glints in the light. Thick fingers spread across the cement retract into fists, the zebra's long face grimacing. He whines something unintelligible in a sort of broken, braying shout, and tenses just before his cock explodes. Bursts of spunk spray across the wet floor, accumulating in a puddle that extends from under the equid's chest to far beyond his clenched teeth and flaring nostrils.

The deer continues pounding into the zebra's ass for another minute and change, sweat visible on his back as his thrusts become quicker and erratic. Faint moans from the zebra beg for every inch the deer has to give. Finally, the dominating male cranes his neck back and grunts out profanity. Several more short, urgent lunges of his hips take him through his climax, his knees trembling above the turquoise water. He pauses briefly to breathe, then takes a careful step backward and replaces his dick with a pair of fingers inside the zebra's puffy asshole, retrieving a scoop of milky cum—proof of his marking. He wipes his hand down over horizontally stacked stripes, smearing the gooey mess across the upturned rump in front of him. The zebra moans pleasurably, flicks his tail. Both males are smiling like old friends.

Eric turns back to the lion, who winks at him. He smiles nervously, suddenly self-conscious about the obscene tent in the towel around his waist. Despite the mind-blowing orgasm Mikhail worked out of him not half an hour earlier, Eric is throbbing hard, the need to touch his cock like the itch of something crawling down the back of his neck. He walks briskly along the nearest wall, trying to ignore the embarrassment of being so visibly aroused.

After a short time spent hunting, Eric spots Ronan sitting in one of the hot tubs. The panther is alone, but his attention is on a rabbit standing nearby. Eric sneaks up behind a column and waits a moment. Although the sight of a familiar face calms him, he can't lose the erection. When he's certain Ronan isn't looking, Eric swiftly discards the towel and slips into the bubbling water across from his friend.

Ronan is chucking at something the rabbit said when he notices Eric. "Hey, buddy!" he exclaims, his voice peaking.

Eric can tell immediately that something is amiss. Ronan is too happy to see him, his grin the look of a used car salesman's. It's a fake grin worn to mask nervousness. "Hey," Eric says coldly.

An almost imperceptible twitch in the corner of Ronan's mouth makes his smile appear all the more artificial. "So?" he asks. "How was it?"

"The massage?" Eric waits a beat, his expression blank. "How do you think?"

Ronan swallows. "Oh, shit. You didn't like it. Look, dude, I'm sorr— Pft!"

Eric beams with a rush of childlike glee when the squirt of water shooting from between his hands nails Ronan square in the nose. "You are a total ass, you know that?"

Ronan wipes his face with a laugh, clearly relieved. "Oh my god... You had me freaking out, man. Wow. But I really have to know. Honestly, how was it?"

"It..." Eric stalls, trying to find the right words. He slides back and adjusts his position so one of the more powerful jets hits the center of his spine, shooting bubbles down his back that lightly tickle the corkscrew of his tail. "It was... kind of amazing."

"I'm glad. I'm really, really glad you liked it."

Eric shoots the panther a mischievous grin. "So after all these years, I guess I finally know why you never liked any of my girlfriends."

"Not true. I liked Chloe."

"I dated Chloe for like two weeks before she came out as a lesbian."

"Exactly. She was awesome!"

The two share laughter as Eric playfully splashes Ronan. The presence of his friend and the soothing jets against his bare skin relax Eric enough that his surroundings fade into the distance behind a white mist of tranquility. Wet footsteps arrive abruptly in his consciousness, making the appearance of an unfamiliar figure all the more jarring.

A slender otter slides nimbly into the water beside Ronan. "Long time no see, kitty cat," he says.

Ronan slaps his shoulder. "Hey! Good to see you, man. Eric, this is Jon Sanders. Jon, Eric."

Jon grins at the pig, his smile framed by a large pair of fangs that extend a hair below the scruff of his chin. "Pleasure to meet ya."

"Likewise." Eric shakes the otter's outstretched hand, almost wincing at the strength in his grip.

Pleasantries fulfilled, Jon leans back with elbows resting on the cement behind him and exhales a satisfied sigh. He turns to Ronan. "So what've you been up to, lately?"

"Oh, you know, just keepin' busy. Seeing friends. Having conversations."

The panther's hint is so firmly devoid of subtlety that Jon plays dumb for several seconds just to fuck with him. Finally, he jumps his eyebrows and says, "Oooohhh, I got ya. Well I'll let you two catch up, then. Nice meeting you, Eric."

"Nice meeting you, too. And sorry." The words fresh off his tongue, Eric doesn't know why he felt compelled to apologize.

"No worries." Jon's movements are unhurried as he climbs out of the water, lingering a long moment once he has one knee supporting his weight on the floor. He shifts forward as the girthy tail behind him swings upward, granting Eric an unrestricted view of the pink ring of his anus. Holding the pose, Jon glances back over his shoulder and says, "Hope to see you here again sometime," before pulling himself up.

As the otter saunters out of earshot, Ronan fights down his laughter. "You are red as a stop sign right now."

"I... Sorry." Again, Eric's own sense of guilt puzzles him. He shakes the thought from his head and motions discreetly between Ronan and Jon's location across the room. "So, like, the two of you ever...?"

Ronan shakes his head. "Nah, we're just friends. I mainly come here just to chill out and socialize with the regulars." With a grin, he adds, "Of course, the massages are also nice."

Eric nods knowingly. Settling back into his seat, he regards his friend with a soft, patient stare. "So how come you never told me?"

"I dunno." Ronan shrugs, stares at the bubbles. "I guess I never saw the point. I mean, you always had some girlfriend or other, I didn't really think..."

"What? That I wouldn't want to be your boyfriend?" Ronan's silence makes Eric regret the levity in his question. A weighty silence settles over them. Eric scooches closer to Ronan. "Hey, look. I didn't—"

Ronan cuts him off with a wave of his hand. "You're a really good friend. We've got a good thing going with that, and the last thing I ever wanted to do was fuck that up. Just to be able to hang out like this, man, that's more than enough for me."

Eric stares out at the plunge baths, watching a shifting haze of steam float above the water. He thinks back on the years of his friendship with Ronan, all the adventures they've shared. His memories replay scenes involving all his ex-girlfriends, and he sees Ronan's presence with him through each relationship—and each subsequent breakup.

He remembers the night Charlotte left him, when he became a drunken wreck sobbing into a couch cushion. It was perhaps the most vulnerable moment of his life—certainly the most vulnerable he's ever been in front of Ronan. Angry and wounded, Eric swore off women altogether at least half a dozen times that night. And half-drunk himself, Ronan told him not to; told him to keep searching for that someone who would finally make him happy, because he knew she was out there. There'd been no attempt at seduction, no planting seeds of doubt in his mind, no copping feels. Only an arm slung reassuringly over his shoulder as Ronan promised again and again that Eric had so much to offer, and no matter what happened, he could always count on the support of his best friend.

Under the water, their legs are touching. Eric likes how it feels, the closeness between them. Without thinking, he reaches for Ronan's chin, turns the feline's face toward his own, and kisses him. Ronan hesitates, but only for a moment. Eric's eyes slide closed, concentrating. The sensation is different from kissing a girl. Harder, somehow, and intensely passionate—though that could be because of who he's kissing.

Eventually, they break apart. Eric breathes deeply, his cock painfully hard. Curious, his fingers hunt past Ronan's thigh to find the panther is not only sporting an erection, but one larger than his own by a good inch at least. Rather than envy, what Eric feels is elation.

"Whoa," Ronan whispers. Their eyes lock, and Eric feels a hand wrap lightly around his own cock. Ronan licks his lips. "You, uh... You wanna get out of here?"

Eric snorts. "Does that line work on a lot of guys?"

"It only needs to work on you," Ronan says with an innocent smile.

They climb out of the hot tub. Eric lets Ronan go first, taking the opportunity to check him out. He's often admired his friend's physique, but this is different. Instead of wanting to look more like Ronan, he views the toned, hard lines of his body through the same eyes with which he sees the soft curves of a beautiful woman, his mind a confluence of artistic appreciation and profound, intimate desire.

Together, the two of them walk nude through the spa, none of the other patrons paying them any mind as far as Eric can tell. Ronan leads the way to a separate room through a door past the showers. The floor is a continuation of the bare cement in the spa, but it's covered by a rug and several large pillows that remind Eric of Japanese-style futons. He chuckles when Ronan points out the mirror covering the ceiling. Then their eyes fall to each other, each taking in the first real sight of a familiar body as something newly real and sexual. They embrace, kissing again, and melt onto one of the pillows.

"I've been wanting to do this since college," Ronan mutters, kissing the side of Eric's neck, then his shoulder, following a trail down his chest and stomach, dragging his nose and whiskers over a thin patch of public hair. He looks up into Eric's eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Eric nods confidently. "Yeah. I am."

Ronan's throat vibrates with an aroused purr. He noses the head of Eric's dick, inhaling the rich scent, then wraps his lips around the shaft. Eric gasps and buries his fingers in Ronan's hair. He looks up at the ceiling and sees himself looking back. He watches the reflection of Ronan swallowing his cock, the panther's head bobbing between his legs.

"Holy shit..." Eric pulls his hands away from Ronan's scalp, one gripping the pillow under him as the other slides up over the slippery wet skin of his abdomen to feel the pounding drumbeat of his pulse in the base of his neck. He jerks and tries not to writhe too forcefully under the deliciously intense pleasure of Ronan's tongue swirling up and down the length of his prick. "H-Hang on a second. I wanna try it, too."

Ronan pulls off him. "You sure?"

"More than sure."

They move so each is lying on his side, facing each other in a sixty-nine position. Eric stares with fascination at the first penis he's closely examined that isn't his own. Ronan's foreskin intrigues him, the sleeve of flesh gliding over the glands more easily than he expects. Captivated by the heat and weight of it in his hand, Eric takes a tentative lick, finding no aversion to the taste of the viscous pre oozing from the tip. He takes the thick cock past his lips until it fills his mouth—an odd sensation, but one that quickly becomes appealing. He tries to bob his head up and down along the shaft the way Ronan did minutes earlier, but ends up only straining his neck. His palms cover Ronan's ass, urging him to push his dick forward so Eric can hold his head still. At the same time, he circles his index finger around Ronan's ass, applying gentle pressure without pushing, trying to mimic the technique Mikhail used on him.

The digit rimming his anus succeeds in driving Ronan wild. He moans around Eric's cock as he sucks it faster and deeper, at the same time pushing his own manhood forward far enough to make Eric gag. Tears form in his eyes and he pulls in breath through his snout as saliva leaks out the edges of his mouth. The aroma of Ronan's musk intoxicates him, and he can feel an orgasm boiling up rapidly. He tries to pull back but Ronan grabs his hips, sucking with renewed vigor as he gulps Eric's length down to the balls.

A staccato moan tremors out of Eric's lips as he spasms and shoots his load down his best friend's throat. Ronan hungrily takes it all and keeps sucking, purring as he licks and slurps and kisses the head of Eric's cock through a series of post-orgasmic throbs.

Once the dick in his mouth is thoroughly cleaned, Ronan gets up to change positions, lying down on his back next to Eric. They kiss, and Eric tastes the faint saltiness of his own cum on Ronan's tongue. His hand cups the warm sack of Ronan's balls, his fingers tracing a path up the hard shaft above them. He grasps it firmly and starts pumping.

Ronan moans into the kiss, his pelvis humping into the handjob. Eric feels an arm wrap around his shoulders and jerks Ronan off harder and faster, each stroke coming with a snap of his wrist. "Oh," Ronan gasps. "Yeah, that's it, buddy. Damn."

"Is that good?" Eric asks, shortening the movements of his hand to tease Ronan. The response comes in the form of a brisk nod. Ronan starts to pant, his eyes roll back in his head, and Eric can feel the arm around his shoulder spasm and squeeze.

"Oh, shit," Ronan whimpers in an unfamiliar voice. "Oh, oh fuck. F-Fuuuck!" His hips buck into Eric's fist as he shoots his load, ropes of cum arcing high in the air before falling on and around them. Eric keeps applying pressure through long, slow strokes, amazed at both the strength and volume of his friend's ejaculation.

When at last Ronan falls limp, Eric snuggles against him, softly massaging a strand of cum into the shiny black fur covering his stomach. With a wistful sigh, he says, "So... you're telling me we could've been doing this since college?"

Ronan grins. "Guess so. At least we're doing it now—that's something."

Eric turns onto his back, staring up at the pig and panther mirrored on the ceiling. "Yeah. That's something, alright." He yawns, then pushes himself a few inches up the pillow so Ronan's upper arm is cradled against the back of his neck. Closing his eyes for just a moment, a single thought settles into the peaceful emptiness of his mind: This feels wonderful.

*  *  *

A pair of twenty-pound dumbbells land with a muted thump against the carpet. Above them, Eric straightens his back and groans, flexing his arms level with his shoulders to work out the dull burn radiating from his biceps. His shirt is soaked with enough sweat to turn the fabric partially transparent. He grabs a plastic bottle and swallows gulps of water so cold each swig stings his throat—a sensation he eagerly welcomes. Wiping an escaped stream off his chin, he returns the dumbbells to their rack just as the tune of his ringtone fills the bedroom.

Eric lifts his phone out of a coil of jump rope discarded on the bed to see Ronan's name and number on the screen. "Hey."

"Eric! How's it going, buddy?"

"Not bad. Just... Whew."

"Man, you sound winded. Did I catch you jerking off?"

Eric laughs. "I was just in the middle of a workout, actually."

"Hey, good for you! I'm really proud."

Heat comes into the pig's face, a ruddy mixture of embarrassment and flushing from the exercise. The earnestness of Ronan's praise dares him to say something self-depreciating, but instead he mutters, "Thanks."

"Send me a selfie."

"What?"

"Take a picture of yourself. I want to see you all hot and sweaty and buff."

"It's only been a few days. I look exactly the same."

"Aw c'mooon," Ronan whines.

Eric grunts a wordless admission of defeat and walks to the mirror in the bathroom, snapping a picture of himself flexing like a competitive bodybuilder. His expression says, Are you happy, now?

Ronan is silent for the brief duration it takes him to receive the image. Upon viewing it, he whistles. "Nice! Lookin' sexier every day."

Eric laughs again. "So why the hell are you bugging me, anyway?" he asks, his voice cheerful.

"You doing anything on Friday?"

"Didn't have any plans. Why?"

"I was thinking we could get dinner somewhere. Maybe have a beer. And afterward... You feel like getting a massage?"

Instinctively, Eric's cock twitches in his shorts. "You mean at the Purple Crown?"

"Actually..." Ronan coughs and clears his throat to buy himself a second to gather courage. His hesitation strikes Eric as being highly out of character. After a false start, the panther manages, "I've been reading this book, and I thought, uh, maybe I could give you a massage. If you wanted, I mean. It's fine if you'd, you know, rather not."

"Hmm... Nah. Let's not."

"Hey, man, that's totally cool. I understand. No problem if you just wa—"

"Ronan." Eric smirks at his reflection in the mirror, emboldened by the look of confidence newly arrived on his face. "What are you doing tonight?"