Ash was dripping sweat when he turned the corner to his flat.
Seven a.m. Still cool out, but his tank was plastered to his chest, and the short shorts he wore did nothing to hide how damp his balls were. Morning runs always left him half-chubbed and humming. Thighs loose. Hole twitchy. Arse bouncing just enough to draw attention if anyone was looking.
Someone was.
There was a rabbit standing at his doorstep.
Ash slowed, frowning a little. The bun was holding a gym bag like it might explode, ears flicking like mad. White fur. Hood pulled halfway up. Face flushed. Tail stiff.
Definitely not a courier.
“Uh… hey?” Ash said, jogging to a stop.
The bun twitched like he’d been shot.
Ash smirked. “Can I help you, mate? You look like you just saw me get run over.”
The bunny opened his mouth. Closed it. Then tried again. “I… think I took your bag. Last night. Gym. I—I mean, it’s not mine, and it smelled, I mean—it’s yours, definitely yours. Sorry.”
Ash blinked.
“Oh. Shit. You’ve got mine?”
The bunny nodded violently, holding it out like a peace offering.
Ash took it, curious now. He gave the bun a once-over. Cute. Twitchy. Built like a cardio lad. Shy little smile that kept vanishing every time their eyes met.
“You alright?” Ash asked, amused. “You’re a bit flustered for a bag swap.”
The bun choked.
Ash chuckled, low in his throat. “Come on, I’ll grab yours.”
⸻
He let the bunny inside.
His flat wasn’t big — just two rooms and a laundry closet off the hall. He toed off his runners and wiped his brow as they walked toward the back.
“Sorry if it reeks,” he warned. “Didn’t wash anything this week. Been, y’know… lazy.”
He opened the laundry door.
The heat hit them first. Trapped sweat. Damp towels. Gear funk. His jocks were in a pile near the machine, half-forgotten from Wednesday’s tennis.
He glanced back — the bunny had frozen.
Just staring. Nose twitching. Mouth slightly open.
Ash raised an eyebrow. “You good?”
“Yeah,” the bunny lied immediately, eyes too wide.
Ash smirked. “You’re not one of those scent freaks, are you?”
The rabbit made a noise that could’ve been absolutely not or fuck me, Ash couldn’t tell.
He grabbed the right bag from the shelf and passed it over.
The bunny took it with trembling paws. “Thanks. Again. Sorry. For the mix-up. You probably didn’t notice, but—uh, yeah, okaybye—”
He turned and bolted.
Ash stood there, holding his own bag now, dumbfounded. He blinked once. Twice. Then snorted.
“What the fuck was that about?”
⸻
The flat was quiet again.
Ash shook his head, tossed his bag on the laundry bench, and peeled off his tank top. His pits were rank — not awful, just lived in. Court funk and morning sweat. He liked it.
But yeah. Probably time to do the wash.
He flipped open his gym bag to dump it out.
Shirt. Socks. Shorts.
No jockstrap.
He paused.
Checked again.
Nothing.
A smirk curled onto his muzzle.
“Ohhh, no fucking way…”
He leaned on the counter, muzzle twitching.
“Did that bun…?” he murmured. “He rifled through it.”
His sheath plumped slightly at the thought. He reached down and gave his balls a casual tug. They were swampy and full. The idea that the bunny had found his gear, sniffed it, wanked over it — it stirred something filthy in his chest.
“Shit,” he breathed, grinning. “He did like the stink.”
His cock thickened in his sheath.
Without thinking, he wandered down the hall to the bathroom, already tugging at the drawstring on his shorts. Halfway there, he ducked into the cabinet for his favourite lube.
Slick Paw™ — Wet Glide.
Perfect for post-run hydrotherapy.
He held the bottle in one paw and his twitching sheath in the other.
“Guess it’s shower time.”
⸻
Ash stepped into the shower and let the hot water pound into his back, steam already fogging up the mirror behind him. He gave his arms a slow stretch, rolled his shoulders, then reached down to scratch lazily at his sheath.
Still half-hard.
Of course he was.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it — about that bun standing frozen in his flat, twitching like prey. That helpless look in his eye when the scent hit him. Like someone had pulled the plug on his brain and left nothing but heat and hunger behind.
And that fucking bag.
Ash pumped the dispenser and let a generous glob of Slick Paw™ – Wet Glide spill into his paw. It was thick, perfect. He lathered it up between his fingers, then gripped his cock, giving it a slow, twisting stroke. The lube was so slippery it felt like his own paw might slide off.
His shaft surged — thick, long, pink-red, veins standing out, knot already starting to swell at the base.
“Fuck…”
He leaned against the tile, eyes fluttering closed.
The fantasy came fast and full.
That bunny — pale, nervous, skinny-runner build — pinned to the laundry floor. Naked but still wearing his little trainers. Eyes wide. Cock leaking. Cheeks red. Nose buried in Ash’s stolen jockstrap.
Sniffing like a fucking addict.
Ash grunted, stroking harder.
He pictured the bun’s tongue — soft and frantic — lapping at his sack. Slick and wet. Nosing under his balls to his hole. Licking like he needed it. Like the funk was air.
“Yeah, you’re a freak,” Ash muttered, teeth gritted. “Bet you tongued the whole thing. Licked it clean. Bet you stuffed it in your face and fucking came.”
His paw worked faster, slapping faintly against his soaked fur. The water made it worse. Better. His knot swelled thick in his grip — firm and bloated, aching for pressure. His balls hung low, tight and heavy. He pulled one back, squeezed, worked the base, lubing under the sheath with slick, circular motions.
In his head, the bun was gagging on it.
“Open wider,” he hissed. “You’ve sniffed it, now take it.”
He imagined bending that twitchy fucker over the dryer, pressing his cockhead to the little puff of a tail, hole twitching and soaked from tongue. The bun moaning into a dirty towel, gripping the edge while Ash mounted him.
“Bet you’d push back like a needy little cockslut. Bet you’d take the knot anywhere I wanted.”
He squeezed behind his knot and let out a shaky breath.
His cock throbbed. His hole flexed with every pulse.
The lube had turned his whole crotch into a slick fucking playground. He jacked faster now, two paws — one milking his shaft, the other rubbing under his tail, teasing his own ring, finger slipping with the help of the lube.
“Fuck… fuck, yes…”
He braced hard against the wall, hips humping into his fist as the fantasy took over: bunny under him, crying out, getting bred full on his laundry room floor. Ash’s knot forcing its way in, stretching him wide, locking deep while cum flooded his guts.
He groaned.
Balls drew up.
Cock twitched once.
Twice.
And then he came.
With a guttural growl, Ash knotted his own paw and painted the shower wall in thick white. His whole body jerked, knot swollen, hips pumping weakly through it. He bit down on his wrist to keep quiet, muzzle fur soaked, tail thudding against the tile.
Cum smeared down his thigh. Some of it pooled near the drain. He stayed there panting, one paw still cupped around his knot, other gently rubbing his own hole through the aftershocks.
“Fucking hell…”
He blinked through the steam.
Somewhere in his flat, his bag still sat open. Jockstrap still gone.
And that bunny? Probably in his own shower, red-faced, still trembling, maybe sniffing it again.
Ash smirked.
“Might need to drop it off myself.”