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DANE AND BERTIE:

CREAMSICLES

The abysmal summer heat left Dane Bennett draped over his bed, looking more like a thick, cooked noodle covered in fur than a Lontramar. His sleek brown otter fur glistened, and he panted heavily. Every window in his apartment was open to let a breeze through, but nothing seemed to help. Loose sheaves of paper lay scattered across his bedroom floor; when he'd opened the first window, the breeze had blown them around before he remembered to drop his paperweight onto them. His favorite rock, a black igneous lump his father had brought home after an extended fishing expedition, lay on the battered cedar desk with nothing underneath it.

It was just too damn hot. He'd clean up later.

He stared at his ceiling while absently rubbing his cock. He was horny as hell--well, he was high, so of course he was horny, the two seemed to go hand in hand with him--but he had absolutely no energy to get a proper wank going. Even masturbation was too much effort; gods, this heat wave was the worst. He checked the clock on his wall: five to four. He had about an hour before his shift started at the Feral Barrel Bar. Ugh; even thinking about work in this heat was exhausting. Mom spent ten hours a day, fifty hours a week lifting heavy shit at construction sites and she never seemed to be bothered by the heat. He'd always been jealous of that.

"Maybe if you spent more time outdoors, you'd be better acclimated," she'd chide him. He was fine being outdoors, he'd argued, as long as the outdoors weren't hot enough to boil an egg.

He heard a knock at his front door. He lifted his head enough to glance through his open bedroom doorway and yell, "Come in, Bertie," before noodling across his bed again. He was naked, and had an erection, but... meh. Filbert Connors--"Bertie" to anyone who didn't want a fight--had seen it all before, and besides, Dane had no energy to put on pants right now.

The Delphian bounced into the bedroom cheerfully, his possum face and plethora of whiskers wiggling with poorly contained pleasure at the sight of his best friend sprawled naked. "Damn, son!" he cried. "What I miss?"

"Tried to fap," Dane grunted. "Too hot."

Bertie snorted. "That is a bald-faced lie. Ain't never too hot for a good ol' rub-down."

Dane lifted his head, glaring suspiciously at his friend. "Your energy in the face of my imminent death by melting is not very best-friendly of you."

"That's not a real word," Bertie said flatly before dropping himself onto the bed next to Dane and propping himself up on one thin arm. The Delphian's thick thighs and pronounced gut made him slightly pear-shaped even under his blue jeans and baggy T-shirt, which sported a local band's logo on it. Bertie was clearly eyeing Dane, which was not helping with the whole losing-his-boner business. "Do..." Bertie started to say, then stuttered. "Uh... do you want..." The Delphian blushed, barely visible under the white facial fur.

Dane did his level best to keep his face neutral. He supposed it was mean to tease his friend, but it wasn't his fault Bertie looked so cute flustered. He'd been waiting for him to admit his interest in Dane since the two started working together two years ago. They hung out almost every single day, and Bertie was constantly getting flustered and failing to hide his erections in the Lontramar's presence. Dane knew what it was like to hide that kind of thing, but he also worried about admitting it himself.

He had no idea why he didn't just come out as queer. His sister had come out as queer six months ago--and genderfluid, which she'd (they'd--dammit, Dane, do better) had a hell of a time explaining to their parents--and Daria hadn't been disowned or even looked at with less love than before. He'd be fine coming out to them. His older brother Alan was a little more of a question mark, though, and the town of Crescent Haven wasn't exactly the most progressive place in the Republic.

He wanted to tear open this boy's jeans and shove every inch of him in his mouth. Instead, he sighed and chose to cut Bertie a break. "Do I want to... eat ice cream? Yes. Very much. I'll pay, you retrieve."

Bertie looked relieved, then indignant. "What?? Why do I have to go get it?"

"Because for some awesome reason, you are immune to the relentless, burning murder orb which hangs in the sky. Also because I'm paying."

"Don't you have to work in like, an hour?"

Dane pursed his lips. "Hmm. Yes. So you'd better hurry."

Bertie made a noise somewhere between a chuff and a sneeze. "Tch. Fine. Where's your wallet, boner boy?"

Dane glanced at his throbbing erection with genuine irritation, then waved a vague hand in the direction of his small dresser across from his bed. Bertie snatched up the wallet, pulled out a few coins, and said, "At least get dressed so I don't have to stare at the angry python while we eat."

"Afraid you might choke?" Dane asked with a heavy-lidded gaze.

Bertie turned beet-red under his white facial fur but tried to play it off. "Gaaaay," he called as he sauntered out of Dane's apartment. As soon as he was alone, Dane glared at his dick. "You are an enormous pain in the ass," he told it. His thick rod just bounced once in response. Dane grumbled and peeled himself off the bed to find clothes.

* * *

The two of them sat on the front stoop of Dane's apartment building doing their best to devour two creamsicles as the snacks rapidly descended into a goopy mess. Even the shade of the stoop's awning did little to stem the inevitable tide of runny orange treat from dribbling down their arms and onto the pavement. Dane tried not to think about the fact that Cleo, his landlord, would throw a fit when he saw the mess and would likely chew Dane out for attracting ants.

Dane tried not to let any drip on him. He'd decided to just put on his work uniform, which consisted of tight brown pants, a poofy half-sleeve white button-up, and an uncomfortably tight crimson vest. He hated how he could feel his fur sliding around underneath the vest, and the pants packed his junk together in a pinching wad. He didn't exactly consider his dick a monster, but it wasn't small, and the pants made him feel like if he popped a boner, it would have nowhere to go but his own ass.

I wonder how that would feel, actually.

The thought popped in out of nowhere and Dane turned slightly away from Bertie so he couldn't see the Lontramar had started panting even heavier than before. Now the pants were _agonizingly_tight. Dane licked frantically at his disintegrating creamsicle, not daring to speak. On the sidewalk ahead, a Vithis couple from the neighborhood smiled and waved at Dane, who waved back. The couple both wore short shorts and form-fitting tees, neither of which were helping with Dane's... situation.

"You ever had Vithis pussy?" Bertie asked in that contemplative tone he always took when asking a particularly stupid question.

Dane rolled his eyes. "I already don't like the direction this is going, but okay. I'll bite. No I--"

"So does Vithis pussy!" Bertie interrupted, then opened his mouth in that obnoxiously enormous grin that Delphians got. When Dane just stared at him, Bertie sighed. "No one gets my genius."

"I feel like whatever just came outta your mouth was the literal opposite of genius, Bertie."

Bertie scowled. "Haters gonna hate," he grumbled, and went in for a lick of his creamsicle--only to have he remaining half of the bar slough off the stick and land directly on his shirt. "Fuuuuck," he groaned. "This is my favorite shirt, man!"

Dane laughed hard enough to snort, which only made Bertie scowl harder. "Come on," Dane said between panting breaths. "I'll wash it upstairs." He slid the last drippy hunk of his own creamsicle into his mouth and led the way back up to his apartment, absently licking sticky ice cream from where it had dripped down his arm. At least he hadn't had a complete failure like Bertie; he didn't have time to wash his uniform before work.

While Bertie washed himself off in the bathroom, Dane took the shirt to the kitchen sink and began scrubbing it gently. He didn't want to fade the band logo, but there was a helluva lot of ice cream all over it and he ended up rubbing a little of the "D" out of "RANGER DANGER." Weird ass name for a band, as far as Dane was concerned, but what did he know? According to Bertie, they were awesome. One of those small-time local bands who spent half their lives touring, that you didn't know existed until they arrived in some tiny venue in your tiny town on a year-long tour. Dane had been sick the night of the show, and Bertie had spent the last six months rubbing it in Dane's face what he'd missed. In typical Bertie fashion, he'd bought a shirt from the band and not a record, so Dane had no idea what they even sounded like.

Bertie came out of the bathroom just as Dane was draping the shirt over a chair to dry, and Dane immediately felt heat rise to his face. "Bertie? Where are your pants?"

The naked Delphian rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as his partially-erect cock dangled under his thick tummy. "Uh. Got some... on my pants too. I washed 'em in the tub. I hope you don't mind."

Dane didn't trust himself not to squeak if he spoke, so he just shook his head vigorously. Fuck, Bertie looked good. And the longer he stared, the harder the Delphian got. Color rose to Bertie's cheeks, and suddenly Dane was absolutely positive no ice cream had landed anywhere near Bertie's pants. He glanced at the clock; damn it all! It was quarter to five. Why was Bertie doing this now? The Delphian's timing was awful, as usual. Dane wanted nothing more than to stay and see where this went.

He finally sighed defeatedly. "I gotta get to work." Bertie did an admirable job hiding his disappointment with a nonchalant shrug. Dane glanced at the clock again. This could finally be his chance to break Bertie out of his shell and have his way with him. He'd desperately wanted just that ever since they met, and now it was clear Bertie had too.

Dane decided to throw caution to the wind. He strode up to Bertie, grabbed him by the muzzle, and kissed him.

The Delphian's initial reaction was to pull away, but to Dane's relief, he stopped himself and leaned into it, pushing his tongue into Dane's mouth. Their tongues wrestled as their muzzles locked, and Dane reached down to vigorously stroke Bertie's growing erection. He wasn't as big as Dane, but there was more than enough there to satisfy, he was sure. After several ecstatic moments, Dane reluctantly pulled his lips away from Bertie's. "Stay," he said. "While I'm at work."

Bertie blushed, his breath quick. "I dunno. I feel weird just sitting around your place when you're not here."

"Well," Dane said teasingly, still pumping his hand up and down the length of Bertie's cock, "the alternative is you walk back to your parent's house in wet clothes with a massive erection." His hand slowed its pace to something steady and sensual, and Bertie shuddered. "I got an eighth in my stash. Just hang out, get high, listen to records. When I get back we'll continue this. And you can stay the night here. With me." Dane licked Bertie's ear.

"I... I like the sound of that," Bertie said, and he shyly placed a thin-fingered hand on the throbbing length hanging down one tight leg of Dane's pants. The Lontramar breathed out hard and nipped Bertie's ear. Fuck, this was going to make his shift torture, but knowing Bertie would be here afterward made it worth the discomfort of the blue balls he knew were incoming.

Dane kissed him again, gently this time, with little flicks of his tongue into his friend's mouth. "Please be here," he whispered. "I want this." To his surprise, instead of returning the kiss, Bertie threw his arms around him and hugged him fiercely. Dane returned the gesture, feeling something tight in his gut loosen and dissipate, some long-standing anxiety that he'd never been able to formulate into words. When he slowly and reluctantly pulled away, Bertie was crying. Dane's nose twitched awkwardly; he'd never been particularly great with processing other people's outbursts of emotion, so he didn't know what to say. Had he done something wrong? Did Bertie regret this? The anxiety started to creep back in.

"Thank you," Bertie said with shuddering breaths.

Oh. Okay. Not... sad? Now Dane was really confused.

"Did I--? Are you--? Why are you crying? Are you okay?" Dane was flustered now. This all seemed to be going wrong. What did he do now?

Bertie shook his head and kissed Dane again. "I'm okay. Just... overwhelmed. Doing this was fucking terrifying."

Dane breathed a sigh of relief. _Get a hold of yourself, dude. Stop panicking all the damn time._Smoking helped with his anxiety, a little, but he was sober now. His anxiety was going crazy with all this new information. He shook his head and returned Bertie's kiss before squeezing his friend's hand and pulling away completely.

"I really hate my job right now. I wanna stay and do this right now. I wanna do _you_right now." The Delphian turned absolutely crimson under his fur. Dane growled with pleasure at the sight. "But I gotta work. I'll be home in about six hours." He dipped in for a quick stroke of Bertie's cock. "You should probably take care of this so you don't get blue balls, sooner rather than later. That way you'll be fully recharged when I get home."

Dane suddenly realized his "quick stroke" was turning into a long, vigorous stroke. Bertie mumbled something about Dane being late for work, but his eyes were locked on the foreskin of Bertie's dick sliding down the head and back over it again. Screw it. I'm already late.

Dane dropped to his knees and unceremoniously shoved all six inches of his best friend's dick between his lips. Bertie gasped and gripped the back of Dane's head, pressing his pubic area hard against Dane's nose. The heady scent of Bertie's pubic fur, mixed with the clean, warm taste of his cock in Dane's snout made the Lontramar's cock throb painfully against his pant leg. Apparently Bertie had been thoughtful enough to wash his dick while in the bathroom. Now that's friendship right there, Dane thought pleasantly. He wanted to unbutton his own pants and pull his cock out to stroke himself--or maybe even for Bertie to return the favor--but he didn't have time to clean himself up after cumming--he knew himself too well, and he did not make small loads. Cleanup would be a hassle he didn't have time for. He'd already made the choice to be late, but he couldn't be that late.

Dane worked his tongue along the underside of Bertie's cock, paying especially close attention to the sensitive glans where the head met the shaft, and slid his lips back and forth. Bertie was almost hiccupping, his breaths were so short and shallow. His cock pulsed and twitched vigorously in Dane's muzzle, and the Lontramar buried him in his mouth to the hilt again, suspecting what was approaching.

His suspicions proved correct. Bertie pressed hard on the back of Dane's head and whimpered adorably as thick ropes of cum burst down the back of Dane's throat. Dane closed off his throat to let the hot, bitter fluids build up on his tongue, enjoying the salty taste of his friend's semen as his dick pumped rhythmically. Dane growled again; he wanted to pull out his cock and shove it roughly into Bertie's ass, but there just wasn't time.

Time enough to savor this taste, though. As the last few dribbles poured into his mouth, Dane pulled away, still swishing his friend's semen in his mouth and savoring it, before standing up and kissing Bertie, forcing some of it into his mouth. Bertie pulled away in surprise, coughing and swallowing. "Dude!" he cried. "You could have warned me!"

Dane snickered and licked Bertie's muzzle where a small line of cum had dripped out his mouth. "You didn't warn me you were about to cum, why should I warn you about the snowball? Etiquette, my man. Works both ways." He kissed Bertie passionately to show there were no hard feelings.

When he pulled away, Bertie panted, "I thought you wanted me to take care of it. Aren't... aren't you late for work?"

"Mm," Dane mumbled, kissing Bertie's neck. "Worth it. Six hours. Don't smoke all my weed; I wanna get high together when I get back. Then I'm going to fuck you like crazy."

Despite his very recent ejaculation, Bertie's cock didn't shrink. Dane took that to mean he liked what he was hearing. "Yep," Bertie whispered faintly. "Kay. Plan. Good."

Dane chuckled and left his best friend, naked and dazed with his throbbing erection still dripping cum, in his kitchen while he practically frolicked out the door. This was going to be his best shift ever. He had someone amazing to look forward to when he came home.