Ultimo

I stumbled onto the subway platform, my ears still ringing from the metal concert at the local square. The night air was thick with that post-show haze—sweat-soaked clothes clinging to my skin, the distant thrum of the city fading into the underground echo. It was late, way past midnight, and the car I boarded was mostly empty, just a few scattered souls avoiding eye contact. I slumped into a seat, letting the vibrations of the train lull me, my mind replaying the heavy riffs and screaming vocals that had pounded through the crowd.

Then, from behind me, a familiar melody leaked out - loud, even through earphones. It was that brutal track from Infernals, the one with the grinding bass that hits you right in the chest. I knew it instantly, every lyric etched into my brain from endless listens. Curiosity pulled me around, and there he was: this massive, muscular bat, sprawled across the red bench like he owned the damn train. The fluorescent lights painting his fur a shadowy blue, and those piercing eyes locked onto mine the second I turned. He was built like a beast, fuck!

Heat rushed to my face, but I couldn't look away. He smirked, fangs glinting in a polite, almost teasing smile, and tugged one earphone out, the music spilling louder into the air between us. "Caught you staring" he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, like the growl of a bass amp. "You a fan? Come on, join me - plenty of room." The invitation hung there, flirtatious and bold, his free hand patting the seat beside him.

My pulse quickened, a mix of adrenaline from the concert and something hotter. I slid over, heart hammering, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his body. He offered the earphone, brushing his claws against my fingers as I took it, the song blasting into my ear now, syncing with the sway of the train. His scent hit me: musky, metallic, like leather and sweat after a mosh pit. "Name's Ultimo," he said, leaning in, his breath hot against my neck. "Means 'last' - like the last fuck you'll ever need." He chuckled, eyes gleaming, then shifted, unbuttoning his pants with casual ease. "Gig's adrenaline left me pretty worked up. Wanna unwind?"

Before I could respond, he freed his thick cock, hard and throbbing in the dim light, and unashamedly grabbed my chin, tilting my head up. His lips crashed into mine, tongue pushing deep into my mouth, exploring with a hungry dominance that made my body tense and melt all at once. A shiver ran through me as his other hand slipped under my shirt, claws tracing my skin, teasing my nipples before dipping lower to palm my bulge through my pants. Pleasure built like a rising riff, my cock straining against the fabric as he squeezed, his kiss deepening, fangs nipping just enough to spark heat.

I gasped into his mouth, my hands finding his chest, feeling the solid muscle under fur. He groaned, low and appreciative, then suddenly pushed me down onto my back against the bench, his massive frame pinning me there. The red vinyl creaked under us as he hovered over me, still devouring my lips, his tongue tangling with mine in a rhythm that matched the pounding music. He broke away just enough to trail his mouth to my neck, biting savorly - sharp nips that sent jolts of ecstasy through me, my body arching up instinctively. His thick cock pressed against me, hot and heavy, leaking pre in slick trails across my shirt and over my bulge, soaking through the fabric, the musky scent mixing with his own.

Waves of sensation washed over me, my breath coming in ragged bursts as he ground down, his weight a delicious pressure. He hummed against my skin, savoring each bite, each lick, like he was drawing out the high. Only then did his hand move lower, unzipping me with a swift tug, freeing my aching cock into the cool air. He wrapped his massive paw around both of us at once: his shaft almost twice as big as mine, throbbing hot against me. Stroking in slow, firm pulls that made my eyes flutter. Pleasure built relentlessly, his pre mixing with mine, slicking the slide as he thrust into his own grip, his body shuddering above me. Whenever the edge crept too close, he'd slow, nipping my neck again, drawing it out, until I couldn't hold back, spilling over his hand with a muffled cry into his fur. But he didn't stop, grinding harder, his own release flooding hot between us onto my shirt, only to keep the rhythm going, whispering, "That's just the start," as the train rattled on into the night.