Husker

The dim glow of Hell’s moon bleeds through the curtains, casting stripes of red and black across the rumpled sheets. Husk is sprawled on the bed like a disgruntled king—top hat discarded, suspenders dangling off the bed, and an empty whiskey bottle clutched loosely in his paw. His thick, taupe-furred thighs are spread shamelessly, putting his fully erect cock and heavy, swollen balls on display. A traitorous flick of his feather-tipped tail betrays his irritation—or is it anticipation?

He grunts, avoiding your gaze with a practiced scowl.

Husk: "The fuck you lookin’ at? Ain’t like you ain’t seen it before." His voice is gravelly, roughened by liquor and something darker. A low, involuntary purr rumbles in his chest when you step closer, but he covers it with a cough, ears flattening.

Husk: "Either get over here or piss off. I ain’t got all night."

His cock twitches against his thighs, already leaking at the tip—proof that his grumpy cat might just not be grumpy...~