FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The wild dog leaned in against the wide display case, fingerpads hovering hardly an inch above the sides of the CDs in their lines. Half-consciously he held his mouth partially open, lips silently forming the shapes of the band names along the section: Death, D3ath, Deathbook, Deathdogs, Deathdoor... none of these. Further down the line were both Death's Book and Death's Door too, funny enough. What an odd genre metal was.

Unlike other music shops he'd been to, this one played its tunes at a level that didn't feel like sewing needles poking into his eardrums. He couldn't quite hear the constant gentle drumming of today's light rain on the front window glass and the sidewalk outside, but every now and then the low, rolling rumble of sleepy thunder caught his radar-dish ears and made them flick over towards that side of the store, if only for the second or two it lingered. A shower would certainly be in order once he got home, too; already he could feel the lukewarm wetness of the rain soaking through his shirt and into his fur, and the vague musty scent that came as a result.

Death Row was there, of course. That one was always there. Right next to that one turned out to be some Death Row V. Wade, against which the wild dog had to suppress a little chuckle - and then failed once he noticed that the label was hand-written and the case one of those that could be bought in a twenty-pack online. He'd briefly considered joining a high school band himself back when he was younger, and agreed to take up guitar lessons again when one of his other friends actually invited him to do just that.

It never turned into anything, though. Over time he'd come to realize that that friend in particular had a real bad habit of saying he would do something, only to never actually do it. As far as he could remember, 'get a job' and 'start attending college' listed among those things.

As he continued to comb through the racks, the front door of the place slid open on a too-large rubber foot, squeaking wet across the floor. The next peal of thunder rolled right beneath the lighthearted little jangle of the string of bells that hung down over the upper corner of the door, a bright enough sound to pull the wild dog's eyes up from the endless lines of jewel-case edges and dark colors.

And there she stood with the light breeze from outside ruffling her mane and tail and blowing that oiled-leather jacket around her lower chest where it cut off, the striped hyena with the belly-button piercing and the smooth voice as cool as the rain that... apparently bent around her when it fell. The wild dog didn't have the _best_of vision, but from here he couldn't see a single drop caught along that short jacket or matting down her snow and shadow fur. The sound of the rain picked up when she'd entered the shop, then faded back to near-silence as the door swung slowly shut behind her - then cut off completely with the strained squeak of that rubber foot settling into place. She tossed her head, let a long breath out between pursed lips, and immediately turned to slouch over the front counter to talk to the clerk there.

The wild dog looked back down to the racks, fingerpads now running back up along the spines; he'd lost his place. That particular hyena had come into this shop once or twice before while he'd been here, though the two had never shared more than an aisle or a glance. She seemed nice enough and certainly sounded like she knew her shit, based on what little of the conversations he'd overheard between her and the shop's owner.

Now, if what he'd come here to look for throughout these past three weeks was actually here, it should be squeezed right between Death's Oar, the Greek mythology fantasy group from Kentucky, and Death's Oats, the Danish parody-doom band with a lineup composed entirely of farm animals. As those two came up, his phone vibrated in his pocket; he switched paws so he could pull it out, then tch'ed when his claw tapped between those precise two bands with nothing in between them. Just like the last three weeks.

From the other end of the store came sharp laughter, pulling his gaze up from his phone right as he turned the screen on. That hyena had moved around the corner of the counter and now stood with her elbows resting atop it and her hips angled back, fringes of her leather jacket hanging loose, or at least as loose as something small like that could, along her sides. Good thing she'd come in jeans today instead of a skirt, with the way she held her lower body like that. The wild dog looked back down at his phone - and immediately forgot all about the striped hyena across the shop.

Hey are you free tomorrow? I'm really pent up and have the morning off

_ _

Not at all what he'd expected to see. He leaned a little more firmly in against the corner of the racks, partially to hide the stirring in the front of his pants and partially so he had something to grind against. Nobody else could so easily get a response like that out of him, and do so after saying so damn little. And he'd been able to do that for the past... four or five years now, since the two first started going out.

They'd broken up since then, of course. A few times. The wild dog let his paw rest against the stacked CDs, looking through the multitudes of posters lining the walls; they'd shared a class together their junior year of high school, he and Marlin. Got to talking, each found out the other was gay, Marlin invited him over... and the next thing in his memory was bouncing in his lap on the couch, arms thrown around the other's shoulders and lips pressed firmly together, his own cock twitching and throbbing and leaking between them. That particular memory stuck in his mind so well since he'd revisited it countless times over the course of the next few weeks.

The fingers of his other paw tightened around the overhanging lip of the case, claws digging a bit into the lacquered wood beneath another swallow, another grind, another throb. Another thing for which Marlin had no superior was the ability to piss him the fuck off, but - the last two times they'd fought to the point of shouting, all he'd had to do was seize the wild dog's hips, throw him around, and pin those hips between the wall and his own bulge, and soon the growling and straining turned instead to moaning and grinding.

Then there was the time he'd left a pair of his boxers after a hookup, and right as the two were getting into another argument, the wild dog picked them up and gave them a sniff to determine if they were his own. Naturally that led to him forgetting what he was upset about, and remembering the last time he'd had his nose buried directly in the source of that rich scent. He swallowed, licked his lips, bit the upper, looked back down to start typing his response-

"Hey."

-and just about threw his phone across the display. Hadn't heard her finish her conversation, hadn't seen her waltz over her, hadn't picked up her scent until now. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and slid his phone back into his pocket. After a few tries.

"-Oh. Hey there. Um." Still boning up over here. He swallowed again and leaned in over the CDs to pretend as if he were still looking. "I've seen you here before? Right?"

"Yeah, I think so." The striped hyena sidled easily in alongside him, leaning her hip against the wooden border and reaching out to brace a paw along the spines. "Never spoken, though. Not that I can remember."

"Yeah." He looked up at her and smiled. Wide triangular ears, each with their own assortment of piercings, and pale green eyes accentuated by the mascara lines of black fur underneath them. "I'm Eli."

She returned his smile in a subtle yet genuine turning-up at the corners of her lips, and held his gaze for a moment before casually looking down beside her at the rows. "Lynn. Whatcha lookin' for?"

"Oh, uh - just this... this band, Death's Oath, they..."

"Ooh." Even without looking at her, he could still feel those pale gemstones on him. The striped hyena slid closer, brushy tail flicking away from the back of his thigh right as it grazed against him and another little whiff of her scent floating by. "You know, you don't look like a melodeath guy."

"A wh-? Oh, well, I'm not, I-"

For some reason his voice caught in his throat when he looked up at her again. Maybe it had something to do with just that: he had to look up at her. Even with her bending over like this Eli still had to lean back and tilt his muzzle up to keep his eyes on hers - and he hadn't looked at a pair of breasts since his freshman year of high school (which was all it had taken for him to realize that his interests certainly lay elsewhere), but with her standing as close as she did while wearing that short jacket and crop-top, it was honestly a little bit hard not to.

Then he realized he'd been quiet for what felt like several seconds too many. The wild dog swallowed yet again, cleared his throat, and tore his eyes away from hers, only for them to flit right back. At least it looked like she hadn't noticed. "Um. I. It's for my - a friend of mine. Is into death metal."

Wait, the fuck did I just say?

Lynn tilted her muzzle back down to continue searching through the selection, though kept those eyes on him for just a moment longer. "Well. Actually, they're more opera-symphonic melotechdeath. You know Fleshgod?"

Each little _tk, tk, tk_of her short claws along the plastic cases caught Eli's ears, soft and rhythmic like the rain outside. "Wh - gesundheit?"

"Mm." She paused for a moment in her searching, then slid one out and looked it over in her paws before flipping it over and handing it to Eli. "'Death metal' works too, I guess. See if your friend likes that one."

Eli looked down at it. He'd seen this one before, but Marlin had never said anything to show that he might know this group, so... "Oh. Thanks. Are you looking for something too?"

Lynn shrugged. That jacket looked great on her, tight at the shoulders and flaring out halfway along the length of her chest. Was it rude to look at a woman's belly, if she had it both pierced and on display like that? "Oh, nah, not really. I like to come by here whenever I'm in town." She pointed a thumb over her shoulder towards the front desk. "I know the owner. Friend of my brother's. Friend of mine too, I guess. I was thinking about hitting that new Vietnamese place a few streets over for dinner, and decided to pop in here before closing time."

"Oh. Yeah, it _is_getting to that time, isn't it? I should..." Eli turned the case over in his paws again, mostly just to give his fingers something to do while he spoke. "...probably... buy this and get out of here... um, it was nice meeting you, Lynn."

One more look from those eyes, running from the tip of his round ears to about the middle of his waist, then back up. Half a head on him when bent over, ears not included, meant that both of them straightened up put her a full head above, and the way she rested her paws on her hips - no belt, he noticed; those jeans just clung really well to her form - almost made him feel as though she were a teacher or a mom staring him down.

The amused quirk to her smile ruined the look, though. She laughed softly, a low, pleasant sound. "Yeah. Good to meet you too. Hope to see you around here again sometime."

Eli had to squeeze past her within the small aisle between cases, and as he did so, that brushy striped hyena tail flicked along his thigh again. He almost looked over his shoulder at her on his way out the door, rain still idly drumming down along the street and awning over the front of the shop, but then decided to head on his way.

"Yeah," he finally managed to send back to Marlin later in the night, right as he started to settle into bed. "I'm good all day. Should I bring the lube?"

_ _

The next response came in just as he'd slipped a paw beneath the covers, down to cup around his sack and his sheath - Just your muzzle and your ass. You know I like the feeling of saliva and nothing else.

_ _

Still, though. Just as she'd occasionally done for the evening leading up until now, Lynn managed to weasel her way back into his thoughts, if only for a moment. What _was_it about her that stuck out to him so much? The wild dog paused, lower lip held lightly between his teeth and phone resting in his paw on his chest. She'd been nice to him, sure. She'd opened conversation with him, and smiled, and laughed. That was a bit unusual, wasn't it? Eli hadn't really made a friend with someone who wasn't a classmate or a coworker in... ever. Is that how it was supposed to go? Should he have asked for her number?

The room darkened a little bit as his phone slid into sleep mode, and he glanced down at where the claw of his thumb rested on the screen. Maybe tomorrow he'd go back, see if he could run into her again. Talk a bit more.

That sounded good.

_ _

~ ~ ~

Lynn held her own gaze in the bathroom mirror for two seconds longer before flicking out the light, the quiet humming of the air conditioning the only sound other than her footpaws along the carpeted floor - and then when she stepped into her bedroom, the rhythmic clicking of the old ceiling fan overhead. Always nice to get back home after a long day, as much as this could be called home. Used to her twin-size back at her dorm, this bed looked way too large for just her.

Also as much as this day could be called long. All in all it was a pretty good one, between the sleeping in, the morning movie, the lunch... the music shop. That last brought a smile back to her muzzle, a little extra warmth against the growing chill after she tugged her shirt off over her head, and reached back to swing her bra forward to undo the clasp. Brian wasn't in today, but that boy - that painted dog, that Eli. What a surprise. Lynn had always had an interest in painted dogs, but until now had never found the chance to befriend one.

Her bra fell to the floor with the quietest of rustles, to be followed by the pop and zip of her fly and then the dance of getting these damn slim-fit pants off. That was another thing, actually: Lynn was a beautiful woman. She knew that. Growing up, going through high school, she'd been a pretty girl too. She definitely knew the look and the sound of when a boy thought the same, even if he himself didn't.

Not saying that Eli showed any of those signs. But definitely not saying that he didn't, either. It had been so hard to keep from pulling him into a hug when he'd lost his train of thought and trailed off, looking at her face.

Best not to look too deep into that though. Not so soon, at least. The springs inside the mattress, another thing different from the bed she was used to, squeaked and strained as she climbed in and pulled the blankets up, taking a moment to reach over and hug her little stuffed animal toy to her chest. He was cute, too; that was for sure.

Cute...

More squeaking when she rolled onto her side, reaching over to slide her phone from the nightstand where she'd left it to charge. Still had some time before classes and her job started back up, but nonetheless, she preferred to keep at least a somewhat sensible schedule - a few taps verified that her alarm for 10 AM the following morning was still set.

Should've asked for his number. Her contact list was just aching to have one more entry fill it out. Right then as the striped hyena set the phone facedown again and rolled right back over, she decided to herself: I'll go back there tomorrow. Same time. I'll meet him there, and we'll talk some more.

That sounded great.