FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Hello y'all,

welcome to the first "regular" chapter of the second season of my ongoing series, now re-labeled "I'm Still With The Hockey Hunk" for the time being. It's also the 31st chapter altogether, which is also a cool milestone. (Discounting the one-shot Touchy Feely which is also a part of the Hockey Hunk continuity) Woo!

If you have any comments about this chapter or the story in general, don't hesitate to drop a few lines after you're done reading. It'll help me to be even more devious with my gruffhangers, and I adore all the feedback. Votes, faves and watches are great, too!

Have a very nice read, enjoy!

Cheers!

Thanks for Tank Jaeger who pointed out a few edits for me. They have been duly corrected.

*

Consciousness returned unto my battered body, but the little soul called Rory Gliese trapped inside the fuzzy body of a lion refused to budge.

That's me, by the way, just your friendly lion, 28, tall, gay, handsome, single, has a job, has an apartment, likes long talks about esoteric subjects and has an occasional beret habit.

Also 28 and dumped twice, didn't have a shower last night, had a job way below his qualifications, lived in a rundown one-room apartment, had lost touch with all college friends except one trapped in his house, and felt embarrassed over his occasional beret use.

After last night's disaster, I might as well let it all come to the surface now and revel in my very own personal misery ala Rory Gliese, lion extraordinaire.

My tail flopped limply over the edge of the bed, its fluffy tip trailing the floor like a living duster.

Maybe I should do a really good cleaning of the whole apartment, maybe that'd give me enough distraction, at least for a short time.

I squeezed my eyes meticulously shut and didn't move a muscle.

HEY RORY WHY DON'T YOU JUST GET OVER IT AND CALL VICTOR AND ASK HOW HE'S DOING?

Fuck...my inner voice had adopted the tone and volume of one Jacob Cobb Holden, still ringing somewhere on the back of my mind, right next to the very big pile of EPIC EMBARRASSING RORY GLIESE MOMENTS residing inside my consciousness. I suppose the little Jacob figurine dancing on top of the pile was leering and pointing his paw at the much smaller heap labeled NICE RORY GLIESE MOMENTS, on top of which crouched Victor Holden, on his knees, looking back at me over his sexy, thick shoulder, showing off that big, nice, brown Dobie butt.

"Want to get a good ride?"

My sheath failed to response even to the rather detailed mental recollection of my most recent epic moment that had been added onto that pile, equally swiftly surpassed by the abrupt end to the date that was meant to be the most beautiful thing that happened to me in a really long time.

RORY YOU GOT LAID IT WASN'T ALL A WASTE!

The stupid, shouting voice on the back of my mind was at it again.

RORY YOU HAD A REALLY NICE EVENING AND MEAL AND IT WAS OTHERWISE GREAT! VICTOR WAS GREAT!

So why had the Dobie been reduced to uselessness by the presence of his loud-muzzled brother menacing him openly and without regret. Wasn't Victor supposed to be the big guy who handled anything and took it at a stride, and wasn't afraid to use his fists if it came to that to preserve the peace of his private home. Surely one Cobb Holden wasn't too much of a challenge?

HEY RORY HEY VICTOR YOU MAKE A REALLY NICE TEAM TOGETHER DOING IT IN THE BUTT!

Then, again, maybe he wasn't in the habit of knocking his brother's teeth out, especially in front of strange lions he had only known for a short time to begin with. Surely he wasn't a violent character, at least I didn't think so. I mean, wasn't that what the hockey was meant for, to keep in shape and get all the frustrations out of the system in a healthy manner, governed by some vague rules to keep it civil? Wasn't that what Victor did?

My dusty tail flicked up and down while I contemplated the possibility that to think about it straight, it could have been so much worse. It could have been someone who'd really wanted to hurt Victor, and not just a stupid brother carrying half of Sears in his stupid shopping bags. What was with that booze and t-shirts and meat and chocolates?

DIDN'T YOU EVEN KNOW RORY THAT VICTOR LIKES CHOCOLATES?

Did he? Or was it just a thoughtless gift from the Dobie, just like the strange T-shirt? Maybe he needed an excuse to buy stupid stuff to himself and then brought them in as gifts Victor could politely decline, and he could take them for himself? I could already see Cobb sitting in front of Victor's television wearing the office guard dog T-shirt with the bottle of Johnny Walker in one paw and a box of chocolates within his reach of another paw, eyes glued to the television showing some football. The imaginary Victor in the scenario of course sat on the armchair, desperately wanting to watch some nice ice hockey and not football.

OH BUT DOES IT MATTER WHAT WE'RE WATCHING, WE HAVEN'T SEEN EACH OTHER IN FOUR MONTHS, IT'S JUST US TIME, IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT'S ON THE TELEVISION!

The mental Cobb Holden began to sound so obnoxious and get so much into chocolate that I had to brush the scenario away and hope that the internal Cobb Holden-imitating Rory scolding voice would come back and offer me some advice on how to deal with this fucking situation. Damn Cobb...he ought to have a corncob shoved into his muzzle to keep him shut. Or up his ass, if that'd help anything better.

VICTOR PROBABLY MISSES YOU HE PROBABLY WANTED TO CUDDLE YOU ALL NIGHT AND KISS YOU GOODNIGHT AND THEN MAKE YOU AR REALLY GOOD BREAKFAST AND SEE WHAT YOU COULD DO WITH A SATURDAY.

That theory sounded nice, at least in my mind, though the evidence was missing. Sure, we had a great evening followed by a great bout of butt sex, but since we really couldn't get 100% out of the whole "let's have a second night stand and see what happens" situation, it remained to be seen how that would have been. Would it been nice? Would we have cuddled and woke up in each other's arms, smiling lasciviously as we'd recall all the naughty things we got up to last night? Would there be bad jokes and wandering paws catching sheaths for a manly squeeze, followed by growling and humping and a quick rump romp, all before a bacon and eggs breakfast and possible a shower we could squeeze into together and have a bit of a fumble.

My sheath finally jumped a little, but only a little, too disheartened to carry on erecting itself any further. It was really in the need of a good wash, too, since I hadn't been up for a shower last night, and I certainly didn't get one at Victor's place, and as a result of that, I was left with lion privates covered in mostly dried water-based personal lubricant and some lion spunk. It also stained my crotch hair, and despite the valiant attempt to cover it up with the spray-on antiperspirant, I could still smell myself pretty heavily, familiar and musky and definitely sexual.

I smelled plenty of Victor, too, in patches of fur I hadn't gotten soused with the stupid spray. I had bits of Victor over my chest and my belly, I had discovered while scratching that same sticky belly last night when I laid down on my bed and tried my best to sleep. I had brought that paw up to my nose and breathed Dobie musk deep into my nose, and it had sent a renewed twinge of desire and regret through me.

I still didn't have it in me to open my eyes to actually try and figure out what the time was, for example, but instead I just kept them tightly closed and allowed myself to float on the warm cloud that was my mattress, cocooned in Victor and Rory musk mix and duvet and alone with my private thoughts. Rory wasn't being the most cheerful company to Rory, especially now that his sometimes nagging inner voice was boosted up to eleven with the exposure to one Cobb Holden.

WELL AT LEAST THE COBB DOESN'T MIND HIS BROTHER BEING A BUTT BANDIT!

Where did that thought come from? I'd never refer to a homosexual individual as a butt bandit..unless...unless...

DON'T MIND ME!

Oh hell...

What was with that language anyway? Or the questions? Or the attempts to give me expensive chocolates as a present after knowing me for 3 minutes? Who the hell was this clown?

HE'S JACOB HOLDEN, VICTOR'S BROTHER

A freaking twin brother...

We had talked about family and Victor had mentioned having a brother and a sister, but now that I had actually met Cobb Holden, I didn't have to wonder why he kept the lid on any information regarding such fraternal connection. To think they had even shared a womb at some point and come out so differently in the end...

Well, maybe this wasn't the normal Cobb I had met, maybe he had been drinking more than coffee in the train and was just plain drunk, and maybe he was one of those guys who lost the control of their faculties when under the influence. Maybe he was usually much more civil...

...or maybe he was just mad in general, bipolar or something weird, Charlie Sheen grade weird, or maybe he just enjoyed putting up a good show, just to torment his brother a little bit more about his preference to getting it on with dudes and not with pussy-owning individuals like he boasted himself doing.

AT LEAST HE THOUGHT YOU'RE DECENT!

What the hell did some weird Dobie thinking I was decent had to do with me and Victor? Me seeing Victor was none of Cobb's business, let alone anyone else, and whatever the verdict, it was certainly not Cobb's business to tell me whether it was okay for me to keep in touch with Victor or not.

AT LEAST YOU AREN'T INDECENT LIKE ISMAIL!

I had to wonder who this Ismail was. Now that I put my mind to it, it seemed that Cobb's worry for Victor's buddies seemed to stem from someone called Ismail...well, Cobb called him Isaac, but Victor corrected him, so I suppose that someone was really called Ismail, after all. Who was he? Was he Victor's ex? Was he a former friend who didn't do so well in regards to Victor's sexuality? Was he a gay friend too much into a nasty scene? Was he Victor's boyfriend?

I felt an odd twinge of jealousy at the idea of Victor seeing someone else - not that we were seeing each other or anything, I knew I had issues when it came to that Dobie and hiss butt - but still, I couldn't help but feel something odd when I thought about Victor walking paw in paw along the curb with someone. Ismail....Ismail....my mind couldn't really come up with a suitable fur to match the name, so I put in a tiger, because I remembered Victor telling me that he used to see a tiger, and that's why he had his nightstand drawer full of Ursoplus Catnip feline condoms for those special moments.

God I wish I'd had the time to use more than one of them last night...

I smacked my tail against the floor to remind my slumbering self that thinking about ball-busting butt-boggling sex with Victor wasn't the best way to try and get a good, honest, unbiased view on this whole issue.

JUST MAKE IT UP WITH HIM AND YOU'LL BE FINE, YOU DID SO WELL!

Did we do well? Why did I feel so fucking strange last night, like I was left out, like Victor wasn't the Victor I thought I knew he was, when I watched him try to deal with his brother, alternating between aggressive and passive. Was that how Victor was like, unpredictable in a tough spot? What was he like under stress? Was this how he was at work, yelling at the phone about staplers and pencil sharpeners? Was that how he was when dealing with situations he couldn't face in his own terms? Why was I doubting him anyway? What the hell was wrong with me? Did I even know Victor well enough to make comparisons and try to figure him out?

I had too many questions and too few answers, and I felt tired and spent and not really much up to doing anything all day. I'd probably end up lying in bed and ordered in some takeaway and then sitting naked on the couch watching endless reruns and reality television while scratching my not fully drained balls and generally feeling miserable and definitely sticking to the confirmed bachelor stereotype.

IF IT WASN'T FOR COBB HOLDEN YOU COULD BE CUDDLING WITH VICTOR EVEN NOW!

Damn Cobb Holden and his surprise visit.

I wondered whether Victor would've told me about the visit if he'd had to postpone our date because of it, or whether he'd told me about it eventually, if Cobb had actually come on the date they had set up for the visit. I wondered whether I was important enough to know, to get that explanation.

YOU COULD BE ON YOUR KNEES SUCKING VICTOR'S COCK RIGHT NOW IF YOU'D JUST HELD YOUR GROUND!

I might've been tall and all that, and not completely without muscle mass, but I was nothing compared to the huge Dobies, let alone one of them, Cobb, and as such, my help in trying to get Cobb to get the hell out of the house would've been rather miniscule. I'd probably ended up getting my jaw broken before Cobb had been unearthed and pushed out of the place. Nor could've I probably stood up to him with words, much, since he was the one with high ground, having caught us pretty much in the act, right at the time when we were most vulnerable.

Maybe that's why I felt so odd and angry...because I had felt so weak and vulnerable, like I had lost the control of the situation, and not even Victor could help me trying to regain that control...or maybe I thought that Victor was unwilling to even try. Maybe it didn't matter enough.

Bah.

It almost felt like a fuzzy memory by now, something that happened ages ago, not...well, I don't know how long ago it was since I hadn't seen the time for this morning yet. It could be the day...as far as I know, I could have slept straight in to the afternoon after staying up until five am mulling over my miserable existence. The only fact that could've made me get up was the need to take a leak, but since my bladder was quite happy for the moment, I simply couldn't bother.

Thus, until the primal need for urination would take over, I decided to stay in bed, safe from the world under my blankets. Nothing could get to me, no distractions, nothing to come to take me to the harm's way, no way that ANY COBB HOLDENS COULD MAKE ME FEEL LIKE A MISERABLE BITCH.

Buuuuhhhh....

No such luck. I just had the time to turn my pillow to get to the nice cool side of it when my phone began to ring, forcing action out of my weary lion self. First I felt for it blindly from my nightstand, but coming empty-pawed, I had to open my eyes to the world again, trying to visually locate the still ringing phone. I squinted and found it lying on top of my jeans, on the floor, and the caller ID was more than clear to me.

VICTOR IS CALLING

My ears flicked madly at the sight of the name, and for one mad second I thought about hitting the red button and cutting the Dobie off. Maybe that'd be for the best, not let anything Victor Holden-related to mess up with my mind again.

I wasn't kidding anyone to begin with, I knew as much, when I grabbed the phone and brought it up to my ear, halfway sprawled across my bed now, naked and floppy in all places except my ears, flicking some more still at the prospect of a Victor call.

"Rory here," I spoke quickly, sounding oddly breathless, to my own ears at least.

A silence met me, for a few seconds, before I heard a rough breath from the other end of the call.

My ears had the time to flatten as the ugly scenarios coursed through my mind.

HE'S CALLING YOU TO CUT IT ALL OFF AND IS UPSET ABOUT IT AND UNABLE TO SPEAK!

Fuck off Rory-Cobb, it's my turn to talk with Victor, not you.

"Hi?" I spoke again, before I softly added, "Victor?"

"Hey, Rory", the familiar, low rumble finally answered.

"Hi," I found myself repeating.

"You ok?" Victor spoke, again, very quietly, into the phone.

I scratched my neck and snuffled.

"Yeah, I'm still alive."

"Uh...good," Victor replied.

Another bout of uneasy silence lingered between us, and all I could hear was Victor's breathing.

"...uh...I finally managed to get Cobb to go to bed and...and well, slept a bit and called you as soon as I woke up," Victor spoke now, that same hushed tone carried one.

I tilted the phone away from my ear long enough to see the time on the small screen and realized that it was 11:23 in the morning. I'd only slept for about six hours, after all...that explained some of the exhaustion, but only just.

My ears flicked in disbelief at Victor's statement, though.

"He stayed up all night?" I spoke, understanding that by that implication, he had also kept Victor up all night, most probably.

He did sound tired.

Victor's silence was broken only after a long pause.

"The coffee wore off around four and he just started to doze off and didn't oppose me when I lead him to the guest room."

Under any other circumstances I would've been laughing by now, but that was hardly the case here. I was too pissed off at both the Dobies and myself at the moment to find it properly amusing. I still wanted to be civil, though.

"Is he...uhh...always like that?"

"Only when he's excited and on caffeine," Victor rumbled. "I'm...I'm really sorry."

"You didn't know he was coming," I snapped in reply.

"Uhh...yeah, I didn't know."

Again, silence. It made the skin crawl on the back of my neck.

"It's very much typical of him of wanting to surprise, Rory, I...it'd probably been great fun if for not being..."

"Occupied?" I offered.

"Yeah, that," Victor chuckled, very briefly, but it was there.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry you had to leave like that, Rory."

"I know."

Did I know? I sure hoped I did.

"Sorry."

"It's fine," I replied, almost automatically.

"It kinda isn't, considering the mess Cobb got us into," Victor sounded more serious now, likely catching onto my snappish output and making his assumptions.

"Shit happens, "I snuffled.

"Still doesn't mean you ought to get in the middle of a Holden quarrel," Victor grunted. "It was so bad, I'm sorry about that."

"Is your brother sorry?" I demanded, my tail smacking the side of the bed with displeasure in the whole ordeal before.

Victor needed a little while to compose his answer.

"Sorry for crashing my date, but all the rest...likely not," he replied gingerly.

"Right."

I rubbed my face with my spare paw and tried to make myself feel just a little bit better with that hint of self-grooming across my features.

"I'm really sorry."

"I know."

It seemed like we were repeating the same conversation over and over again for now, trading sorries and being understanding.

"Rory, could we meet up soon? Tomorrow, maybe? I...uhh...I doubt I can get away today yet, but maybe tomorrow I could get out and see you."

I shook my head to clear up my mind a little, and breathed deeply. Was I ready for it? Did I want to? Was it worth it? The questions bounced through my mind.

DO IT, RORY, DON'T MISS THE CHANCE TO SEE THE DOBIE BUTT AGAIN!

"Okay," I spoke firmly, to make sure that the mental Rory-Cobb didn't resurface any time soon.

"That's good," Victor sounded oddly relieved as he spoke, "uhhh...where do you want to meet up?"

Victor's place was obviously out of the question, and I felt strangely reticent to invite Victor over to my minuscule apartment, so that left public places as the option for wherever we'd end up going. I did a quick mental map search of all the places I could think of, and after a moment, came to a conclusion.

"There's a café on Lindsay Street called The Grinder, it's right about the middle after the corner of Maxwell Lane. Could we meet up there, maybe?" I offered.

"Yeah, I know where Lindsay Street is."

"When do you want to meet up?"

"Is ten o'clock okay? I doubt Cobb's gonna get out of the bed early tomorrow either, so it might be my best bet."

Victor sure made avoiding his brother sound like an escape from a POW camp or something like that. It made me smile a little, just a little, but it was enough to assure me that it was going to be okay.

"Yeah, I think I'm going to have an early night anyway, so ten in the morning is fine," I told him, trying to sound like I was smiling.

I wasn't sure whether smiles really translated well over the phone, but Victor sounded a bit happier, too, when he replied.

"Okay, that's...that's great. It's good, Rory, it's...it's good to see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, it's...it...it feels like we...like we were cut short alright," I spoke then, quietly.

"Me too," the rough-voiced Dobie affirmed.

I tried smiling again, and it felt good, and made my tail flick, too.

"What are you going to do with your brother today, Victor?" I asked, mostly to get distracted from any doubts that lingered.

Victor snorted over the phone.

"Avoiding any of his attempts to make last night up for me, and likely keeping him amused by being a brother," he didn't sound very amused.

"Well, enjoy," I didn't know how else to react, so I tried to be as neutral as possible.

"I'll try," Victor's tone was more mellow than neutral.

"Take care, yeah?" I tried, not really knowing what else to say to him at this point.

"Yeah, you too, Rory."

"Thanks, Victor."

"Well..uhh...see you soon?"

"See you."

The phone line closed with a beep, and Victor was again gone.

*

Gruffhanger, anyone? Stay tuned to see how things pan out!

If you have any comments, don't hesitate the drop a few lines once you're done reading the story. It'll help me to be a better writer, and I shall enjoy all feedback. Faves, votes and watcher are considered great, too!

Cheerio!