From the outside, it looked like it had been drawn by that fellow who did the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark books-the one who went way, way further than he needed to. It was a big, gothic manor on a hill, with tombstone-grey paint and a front porch whose wooden floors and steps creaked like the gate to a crypt. It looked like it should come with its own crash of thunder; ornate but ominous, it looked like it would be home to the first gargoyle mayor of Margaret, New York.

But despite all that, it wasn’t much different from any old house in a Hudson Valley town, even if delivery men had to fight the urge to notify their next of kin every time they went to bring pizza. It had modern amenities, it was up to code, and it was even sort of homey on the inside, if a tad musty and staid; less the home for a madman who buried his wife alive, more a home for a kindly old woman who dressed in grey and collected taxidermy. Even so, the occupant wasn’t an old woman, taxidermist or otherwise; it was someone a good deal stranger.

“Happy Halloween!” Sammy chirped as Liam walked through his door; he came forward and gave the Flareon a big hug, practically lifting Liam off the ground with his strength. “What didja bring me?”

Liam grunted from the pressure of the hug (Sammy was strong for someone so small and cute!) before smiling affectionately. “Just some stuff from trick-or-treating,” he said. “Jill likes to go to the places with the good candy.” She sure did; she made sure to drag her older brother by the nose all over the neighborhood, with a surprisingly detailed map to help her out.

The Pumpkaboo giggled, before taking the pillowcase stuffed with candy and rifling through it as though it was his own. Liam didn’t say much; this was the sort of thing you put up with when you were friends with someone like Sammy.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding!” he said, pulling out a plastic baggy of spongy, homemade candy. “Who made the cinder toffee?”

“Our neighbor,” Liam said. “She lived in England for a while.”

“She’s got good taste,” Sammy said, cheerfully. “I’ll save you some! C’mon!” With the boundless energy of someone nowhere near as old as he was, the Pumpkaboo bounded up the spiral stairs, his black-and-orange-striped-socked feet going thumpthumpthumpthumpthump all the way up.

---

Samuel Hawthorne, or “Sammy” as he insisted on being called, was a Pumpkaboo anthro; he looked like a black cat or fox, with a pale face and a lower body that formed a delightfully pearlike (or, indeed, pumpkinlike) shape in his hips. His age was hard to pin down based on his appearance, cute and slightly feminine as it was; if you had to guess, you’d think he was an older teen or a young adult. But whatever age he was, he had stayed there for quite a long time.

But if he really was over two hundred years old (he never gave a straight answer), it was clear that the sands of time hadn’t eroded his cheerfulness and his exuberance. He bubbled and bounced like a sweet elixir boiling in a cauldron, and even with his fondness for the spooky and gothic (on one memorable occasion, he took a date out to a picnic in a cemetery) he loved all that was sweet and cute. Very few people disliked Sammy, even if he could be bossy or demanding.

This Halloween date night with one of his best friends serves as a good example.

“C’mon, kiss ‘em like you mean it!” Sammy playfully lifted his foot up to bop Liam on the nose, before settling them both back into place for the Flareon to get back to work. Sammy sat on his big, plush bed, colored a royal purple; across from it, his television (widescreen and startlingly modern given the Victorian look of the decor) was playing an old gothic horror movie from the fifties. It was just about to wrap up, the woman in her white dress running barefoot in a panic from the old haunted castle. The Pumpkaboo half-watched it, with the air of someone who had seen it many times before, while focusing largely on his candy (well, Liam’s candy) and Liam himself.

The Flareon half-lay half-sat in front of Sammy, his legs crossed, his hands rubbing up and down those smooth, sock-clad feet. The Pumpkaboo, despite his petite size and twinkish features, had surprisingly big, soft feet; the kind of feet that you could nuzzle your face up against and it would feel like a gentle massage. The fact that he was wearing those striped cotton socks, smooth and fragrant like fresh linen, made the experience even nicer for your more sophisticated foot slut; Liam, embarrassed as he may be to say so, fell into that category.

Liam used one hand to massage Sammy’s left foot, working his thumb into the sole and massaging the stress of the day out of it (although Sammy rarely had stressful days, it was the thought that counted). He used his other hand to massage Sammy’s right foot, rubbing it up and down the soft length and feeling the luxurious softness of those socks against his hand. He reached his cheek forward, rubbing against the pumpkin-cat’s toes as though he himself were a cat of the four-legged variety, before puckering his lips to kiss them. He kissed gently, as though he was planting a smooch on his boyfriend’s forehead after he had fallen asleep. If Liam could, he would have purred.

Sammy, for his part, watched the credits roll on his movie as the next one popped up on his Netflix queue. He was enjoying some of the candy that Liam brought him; he unwrapped a mini 3 Musketeers bar and popped it into his mouth, chewing happily as the opening credits rolled for the Hammer horror movie coming up next. People liked bringing Sammy gifts, no matter the time of the year, but when Halloween came around it always turned to candy. Not that he was complaining; he had a sweet tooth, after all.

“It really is cute, y’know,” Sammy said, the Pumpkaboo wearing a happy smile on his face. “Even back when people were weird about the whole gay thing, they’ve always loved my feet. There was a skinny kid, not too much older than you, who always used to beg me for a pair of my socks. I think he bought me my first pair of stockings…” He sighed, fondly, before an impish grin came across his sweet, boyish features. “So you’ve got a couple of centuries worth of shoes to fill. No pressure~”

A whine came from Sammy’s feet, which the Pumpkaboo just giggled at. He had known Liam for long enough to know if he was stepping over boundaries; it was all in good fun, after all. Besides, the Flareon liked it when he took control of the situation, which was always good news for someone like Sammy.

Speaking of. “Hey, Liam! Want a snack?” When Liam nodded, Sammy giggled, his smile showing off those pointy little fangs that were just enough to show, not enough to threaten. “Then take my socks off.~” The “with your mouth” was implied, and Liam listened. He raised his lips to the tips of Sammy’s toes, biting on the fabric of the sock before slowly pulling his head back. Those knee-highs peeled down his legs, revealing his calves, then his ankles, then those soft, fuzzy bare feet. Sammy wiggled his toes and started the fun.

He opened up a packet of Swedish Fish, emptying it into his palm and letting the small red gummy fish collect in a small pile. Humming a little tune to himself, he reached forward, splaying his toes and carefully placing each piece of candy in between his toes, first the left foot, then the right. Liam looked like he was about to start drooling; Sammy decided to take his time just to be a tease.

He looked up at those eager puppy-dog eyes and giggled. “Hmmm? Say please!” Liam bit his lip and gave a happy little groan, before obeying.

“Please, Sammy?”

“Oh, OK,” Sammy said, as though feigning reluctance. Liam dove in, the Flareon wrapping his lips around the Pumpkaboo’s big toe. With soft, savoring sucks, Liam took the candy out from between Sammy’s toes and chewed, his eyes shut and his expression as content as a baby at his mother’s breast. He kept at it, repeating the process going down the left foot, giving gentle, loving little kisses all over the pumpkin-cat’s toes.

“Heeheehee! You’re hungry, aren’t you?” The woman from the movie screamed as the axe murderer burst into her room; both parties just ignored her. Beneath the sounds of the movie, Sammy could hear the gentle slrp, slrp, srrk, smmch of Liam making love to his feet, taking each piece of candy from his toes as reverently as though they were communion wafers.

“Such restraint! What a good boy!” Sammy cooed, as Liam finished off the candy on his left foot. “Now, I know you’re nice and hungry today, so I’ll give you a treat…” He pointed to his right foot. “Eat as quick as you want. Go wild!” Sammy rested back on his pillow, sighing in contentment as Liam gasped and dove in.

He deep throated Sammy’s foot; that was the only word to describe it. The Flareon opened his mouth wide, rubbing his tongue along the undersides of the Pumpkaboo’s toes, before bobbing his head forward and swallowing his foot down to the heel. Big, hearty slurps and suckles came from Liam’s mouth, eyes scrunched shut as he worked down each piece of candy from the dominant boy’s foot. But the candy was secondary to the real treat; the honor of swallowing Sammy’s foot, of wrapping his hands around the ankle and working it like a cock, of rubbing his tongue all over the sole and scrubbing it with his saliva.

“Ghhhk!” That came from Liam lowering his head some more, letting the tips of Sammy’s toes tickle his gag reflex. He didn’t mind-it had happened before, and after some dutiful and slightly embarrassed clean-up he knew how to choke on Sammy’s feet in a more aesthetically pleasing manner. His eyes squeezed shut even tighter as he sucked, and drool started to coat Sammy’s foot and drip from the corners of his mouth, but he kept going.

Sammy loved when his boys choked on his feet. It proved that they were willing to go through discomfort and humiliation in order to please him, and the chorus of chokes and gags and coughs was enough incentive for him to move his foot even deeper into their mouths. Still, he knew when enough was enough.

“Up, boy,” he said. Liam pulled off, his spit coating Sammy’s foot, and looked up at the Pumpkaboo with a lust-drunk look in his eyes. Both of them knew what was coming next.

“You wanna eat my ass, boy?” Sammy asked, his voice dropping to a coy, seductive little murmur.

Liam bucked his hips and panted. “Fuckyes,” he said, as though it was one word.

“I don’t think I heard you,” Sammy said, his lips curled into a wicked little smirk. “What’d you say?”

“Please let me eat your ass Sammy please please please I want it I want it I-” Liam cut himself off, looking at the Pumpkaboo with a blush spreading across his face. He was an eager thing, to be sure, but he still had these little moments of self-awareness that made him cut off in mid-stream.

Sammy just smiled. “You’re a sweetheart, you know that?”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto Liam’s forehead. A small lip print of lip gloss and chocolate rested on it, like a mark on Ash Wednesday.

“Lay down.”

---

The first time Sammy sat on Liam’s face, it was a startling experience. The pumpkin-cat’s ass was thick, wide and bubbly, covered in fluffy black fur and sinfully soft to the touch. It felt like he was being smothered by a pillow when Sammy straddled his face, and yet that soft, penetrating, natural scent that came from Sammy’s asshole made his nose twitch and eyes water. It wasn’t out of stench, but merely out of pheromones; it was working him into a frenzy, and within ten minutes he was grabbing onto both cheeks, kissing and snorting and eating like a pig at a trough.

Now, the Flareon had gotten to the point where he was able to control himself and his lust for the pretty Pumpkaboo. He could rim with the best of them, sure, but he was able to keep the experience from getting him to come hands-free after five minutes. It used to be that Sammy couldn’t do anything else while sitting on Liam’s face; he had to be focused on the sub beneath him going mad with lust. Now, he could multitask.

“What color roses?” Sammy asked, his sketchbook opened on his naked lap, his box of pencils, colored and otherwise, next to him on the bed. “Red’s nice and gothic, don’t you think? But they’re also a bit cliche…” He nibbled on his eraser, thinking as though he didn’t ask this rhetorically to tease Liam.

Liam, for his part, didn’t give a damn what color the roses were. He had his own entertainment; his friend-slash-lover’s big, juicy, bubbly rump. It was nice and wide, thanks to the boy’s coke-bottle shape, and it was soft and decadent enough to feel like a big black-furred souffle settling down over the Flareon’s face. He took in a deep breath, letting the scent of Sammy’s asshole tingle at his nose, before sticking his tongue out.

Sometimes Sammy would secure Liam’s wrists behind his back before taking his seat, but this time he left them free. Liam was happy to use this freedom to reach his hands up, sinking his fingers into the dimpled, fatty flesh of Sammy’s rump and giving it long, loving squeezes, like two big fuzzy stress balls. Meanwhile, his tongue licked up and down, up and down, teasing that tight, dainty little pucker, letting its earthy, bittersweet taste soak onto his tongue.

“Black roses, maybe?” Sammy mused. “That would be pretty nice. But it might be a bit too Hot Topic…” He giggled. “Maybe I should make ‘em pink and yellow,” he said. “That’d be funny for a big gothic house, right?” The only response he got from Liam was a little “fmmmmmmf” as he had his face buried deep in that ass crack.

Sammy let the Flareon do his work, focusing instead on his sketchbook, coloring in the flowers creeping over the wrought-iron gate of the house he had drawn. He liked to draw-it was a hobby he had developed sometime in the fifties, and he had taken to it well. It was always good to keep yourself busy!

Liam should know. He was keeping himself very busy indeed, snuffling against that asshole and letting the scent fog his mind. It was always a pleasure to lose himself underneath Sammy, to let the Pumpkaboo take control and sweetly, kindly objectify him. He puckered his lips and laid a soft, wet kiss against that hole, flicking his tongue out and teasing the rim. Those deep, gratifying sniffs kept coming, finding less and less air but the Flareon finding less and less reason to care.

That was a good word to use: objectify. That was what Sammy did, and it was what Liam loved. Sammy was a sweet, cheerful, happy young...whatever he was, but in the bedroom there was always that lust for dominance, for power over someone no matter how sweet and gentle the hand holding the leash was. There was a disconnect when Sammy dominated, a love that was like a love for a pet or a toy instead of a person. Liam was sure that someone, somewhere would be bothered by it, but as he lay beneath the dominant Pumpkaboo he couldn’t imagine why.

“Oh!” Sammy squeaked, the pumpkin-cat feeling Liam press his tongue past the tight rim and into his hole. “That’s a good boy.~” He ground his hips backwards, letting Liam lay under him without care for air or anything else but service to that sweet Pumpkaboo boy.

Of course, air would come in handy for both parties. Liam needed to breathe, and Sammy wanted to have someone worshiping him, a factor that death would greatly complicate. And so, right when it seemed like Liam’s head would pop from the pressure, Sammy lifted up those shapely hips, letting the Flareon gasp for air and looking over his shoulder with a smile.

“You holding up OK?” Sammy asked.

Liam nodded, his eyes rolled into the back of his head from the sinfully decadent pleasure that had been smothering him up until now. “Y-yeah…” he panted, hearts practically popping up into his eyes.

“Do you want more?” Sammy asked; of course, Liam nodded. The Pumpkaboo thought for a second, before crawling off of the Flareon, instead laying down, naked, by his side.

“Actually,” Sammy whispered, “maybe it’d be nice to cuddle for the rest of the night?”

Liam was still riding the high of the pretty boy’s scent, rich and lightly spicy, but he knew that Sammy was doing this for a reason. “Yeah…” he said, resting his head back and sighing in satisfied pleasure. If people still smoked cigarettes after sex, he would have done that here, even though he technically hadn’t come yet.

Sammy fished around through his-Liam’s-bag, pulling out a handful of chocolates and other treats. He cupped them in his hands, giving them to the Flareon and planting a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Happy Halloween, sweetie,” he said. Sammy rested his head on the Flareon’s shoulder and sighed, closing his eyes and enjoying the rustle of the wind through the trees outside his window.