FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Appropriate cover art by the generous Frosted_Fur - you knew this was going to end up here, didn't ya? Thank you, Frosty!

Original art here.

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S05E01

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Rah rah rah hurrah, muffins, here we go again!

It's been quite some time since the season 4 finale, and now that my life has calmed down a bit, coming back to these characters will be a most pleasurable activity once more! We've got a fun haul ahead of us, I think, so put on those seat belts, tune in onto your favorite easy listening station and hang onto that steering wheel - it won't be easy on these characters, and once again, it might be tugging on your heartstrings, too. I promise to be gentle on you, but I can't promise to keep the gruffhangers at anything but maximum efficiency :P Consider it a point of pride.

As always, I must remind you that your feedback is what fuels this story, and to hear your thoughts is a great pleasure of mine. Always remember that all those votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!

I'd also like to remind you of the unofficial Hockey Hunk theme tune, which I think matches the mood of the story quite nicely! Maybe let it play as you read?

Have a very nice read, everyone, and I'll see you soon!

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"Dontcha worry old Tate..."

I lost it on that hug.

It just came out of nowhere. Big paws and warm arms and a face mixed with concern and a smile that was meant to be encouraging. Perky Doberman ears and breath that smelled like salami and filled my nose with a meaty scent that wasn't just Cobb's own doing.

Oh God, what I did then.

Nobody had hugged me in years, not the way he did now. It was a the kind of a hug a mom gives to her cub, that's the best way I could put it, all comfort and not awkward at all. Maybe the fact he was quite a lot bigger than I was added to the impression. Or maybe it was just the warmth, or the soft rumble from his chest that really told me that he wanted me to feel better. Me and Marker, we hugged sometimes, but they were usually the kind of slightly awkward hugs you exchanged with strangers in sport bars after celebrating your team's victory on the field. Enough to carry in a bit of a shared sentiment, but that was the limit.

There were no limits to what Cobb could do, however. His paws spread out like clams on my back and pulled my closer on the couch. I instinctively shuffled closer, too, my slim thigh pressing against his own thick, muscled one. I didn't even think about the fact that the bare metal of my prosthesis was probably pushed up onto his leg. It just didn't register, not when Cobb put his paws on me, the same big paws that had waved in misery only moments before in search of his lost serviettes, now put into use in comforting old broken me.

But I didn't feel broken.

My chest ached, but it wasn't because I'd been torn apart and sewn together in a German military hospital. No, no, it was that sensation that'd been threatening to burst out for such a long time that I no longer knew what to call it, and suddenly there was a name and it...

...it all really came back in a rush, every single moment, every thought and idea and feeling that had never been sated, never explored, never...never touched, and that damn salami-smelling Cobb was the key, he was...he was doing this to me now. He cared. He held. He did things no other man could...or wanted to.

God, how I wanted to.

Dobermans have long muzzles, but mine's longer, and kind of more narrow, I suppose, but that didn't mean it was difficult, physically, to do what I...what I was going to do. Inside my head...I've faced foes much more terrifying, but it didn't make it any easier to grab his wide, thick arms and go for it.

It can be a tricky business, kissing. Gotta think about whiskers and teeth and all that.

It didn't seem like a problem once my eyes were closed and I just let my maw drink in the taste of salami and the feel of warm, moist lips moving against my own and I pressed into it and squeezed his arms almost as firmly as I could, to keep that sensation going, that hot flush that spread from my lips down my neck towards my chest and the burning feeling there...mingling, and pushing it away.

Finally.

I let out a muffled moan, and with the lip-lock, it mostly came out of my nose in a hot puff of air that must've landed on his face, because he let out something that was close to what I did...a deep rumble...that gorgeous body tensing under my paws, and his fingertips pressing firmly against my back, mussing up my shirt, but it didn't matter...the rub of the fuzz on his chin on mine was more of a distraction than anything else could be at the moment.

I pressed and pressed and held, and he rumbled, and his lips played with mine in a kind of a soft way that I can't describe, really.

Suddenly those paws weren't on my back anymore. They were on my shoulders and they pushed me back, enough that our muzzles fell apart and my eyes opened, removed from the explosive silence that existed inside my head during those few blissful seconds.

His eyes were huge, his muzzle open, a bit moist from the kiss, the saliva I had tasted...the lingering smell of fatty, salty sausage in the air...the smell of Doberman with his ears going flat against his skull.

That takes the good warm feeling out of my chest even faster than my tail snapped into attention against the side of the couch. A kind of coolness flowed down along my back and all the way into my stump that suddenly felt as cold as the titanium strapped onto me.

One pathetic piece of shit. One goddamn fucking useless piece of mangled meat, Sergeant Tate Michaels. Going thinking that he could actually...

He was panting, and I breathed hardly at all, too tense to even move. His huge eyes stared at me, and those ears stated where they were, parked in the down position and not changing from there.

I felt sick.

"Maaaaan..."

He spoke, and my ears snapped forward and I felt a breathe escape from my over-expanded lungs.

He was still staring at me, with little crumbs of croissant stuck onto his chin, his muzzle still a bit open, like he just couldn't believe what had happened. I couldn't really believe myself, either...kissing the Doberman like my very life depended on the connection of our two muzzles.

His paws were clenched into loose fists against his lap.

"Tate, dude..."

How the fuck did he still manage to sound like he was just 17 years old and just elbowing me in the locker room after football practice to tell me to come to Wendy's for the usual destruction of burgers with the team, and how we'd drive there in his dad's car while he was singing Wannabe with lyrics he made up so that they'd be about himself...

My furs bristled, and the pain in my chest returned. It started to grow with every second we spent on that couch panting and with Cobb just muttering things under his breath and not really looking at me anymore. Yes, he was looking in my direction, but not at me...how could he...I must've been...terrible now. Disgusting.

"I better go," I heard myself saying.

I started to look for my cane. Where'd I put it? My head swung to the side, eyes seeking the stupid thing. My eyes stung a lot, too. I didn't want to start crying again. I'd cried enough. Crying was hard enough anyway, with the numbing effect of Elavil in my brain. I knew it didn't just numb you for the pain. It numbed emotions, too.

Couldn't do a thing about this now, though.

I growled, when the pain in my chest shot up through my throat and made my voice break in a sob.

"Uhh."

I coughed. I tried to get up from the couch, that stupid crutch lying on the floor nearby. Had I knocked it over? Where was that stupid thing? I...

"Ahhh..."

Fuck this all, I wasn't going to show him how this was fucking up my brain. I wasn't gonna let him see me bawl. I was a grown man. I wasn't supposed to. Grown men weren't supposed to go on kissing their high school buddies, either. They weren't supposed to be crying sissies.

Nothing worse than a sissy.

Dad's voice seemed to echo in my burning ears when I made another attempt to get up from the couch to retrieve my stick. It was lying over the leather armchair near the couch. I just had to go for it, and do it quickly, and without any further fuss.

"Christ, Tate!"

I couldn't look at him. Whatever he was saying, he could keep that to himself. He was going to tell me it wasn't me, it was him, that he just couldn't...not now, not...for whatever reason, no.

No.

I got up and went for my cane, and the table Cobb had pulled closer caught me on the shin...or where a shin should be, but in my case, there was just a titanium pipe. I moved quickly enough that the sudden bang sent pain into my stump, even through the gel, even through the thick sock, and I lost my balance.

I managed a quick yelp before I fell, arms held close to my body, instinctively falling on them to protect myself. I banged myself against the edge of the table and then crashed down onto the somewhere between the table and the couch, halfway between the couch and the chair with my crutch. True physical pain slammed through my chest and air escaped from my lungs.

I tasted blood even before further pain shot through my cheek.

"Oh my God!"

I'm shaking and spitting blood when those huge paws return to me and pull my shaking form up, just like that, no getting to my knees first, he just grabs me and I'm suddenly standing up, tail bristled up and my entire body shaking, blood on my lip and wetness over my hot cheeks while my breaths rattle through my painful throat. My head was reeling, my body was aching everywhere, and those paws on me felt too good to be true.

"Do I call nine one one, Tate, are you alright?" he shook me, he tried to meet my eyes, but I can't do it, the burn is too painful, too embarrassing, it's not what he has to see, not this complete destruction of me in front of his eyes, the stupid fox who thought that he could possibly...

"Do you feel sick? Do you feel faint? Is one side of your body numb?" he's suddenly grabbing my paw, "please squeeze this, can you squeeze my paw, Tate?"

He squeezed my smaller paw into his huge one, and I had no idea what he was doing, why he was asking those questions, and what he was trying to accomplish with saying these things? Why the hell did he want me to squeeze his paw? I tensed even further, and tried to step away from him, now that I felt like I could stay up with reeling over to one side after my fall.

Just had to get out of this place. Away from him before I'd make anything more embarrassing. I'd have to get the hell out of here before he'd try to start explaining why doing what I tried to do was a terrible idea. I was already crying, there was no need to make things even worse.

"Let go of me," I managed, trying to pull my paw away from his while my other paw reached for my cane.

"But you're bleeding!"

Big, bright drops fell onto the carpet, over my chin. I resisted the urge to spit it out, too, not before I was outside. Didn't swallow either. I knew that'd make me feel sick on top of everything else.

I didn't answer. I just grabbed my cane and tried to make a run for it.

His paw shot out and grabbed my arm before I managed to take a single step.

"Tate you're scaring me!"

I tried to pull my arm away, but he wouldn't let me. My tail slashed the air behind me.

"Let me go!" I groaned in a bloody snarl.

"You're hurt!"

He probably had no idea just how hurt I was.

"LET ME GO!"

"Tate, Jesus, man - !"

"Let me get the fuck out of here -"

"Tate, Jesus man, I'm not - "

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR!"

Had to get out of this fucking place before I'd lose my temper on top of everything else. First kissing him and then hitting him for not wanting to kiss me was sure going to be something I'd never live down.

He yanked on my arm.

"I'M NOT GAY!"

My ears slapped through the air. I almost dropped my crutch, too, with the kind of a twitching tension that overtook my body. For the first time, I dared to look at him...whatever a mess my face was, I just had to...to see what he looked like, saying that...no...shouting it off the top of his big damn lungs.

He looked at me strangely, big eyes, almost flat ears, and a kind of scowl on his muzzle, but at least it didn't speak of the one thing I had expected to see there. Hate.

The blood tasted awful on my tongue.

"I'm..." he swallowed, "I'm not gay, dude, I'm straight!"

No...that just couldn't be...he...he must've been trying to let me down easily, and doing a fucking bad job at it, too. Almost pathetic.

Almost as bad as I was.

I shook my head.

"Fuck you," I muttered.

He blinked. His ears lowered. He made a face. He looked...weirded out.

"I'm not gay!"

"Don't fucking lie to me!"

Again I tried to move away from him, but his paw did not slacken.

He let out a deep sound that sounded almost like a half-muffled howl.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE TATE I'M NOT GAY VICTOR IS!"

Now I really looked at him, really stopped caring about the tears and just looked at him. He looked embarrassed.

"YEAH!" he breathed. "And now he's going to be mad at me for telling even if I promised not to!"

His ears flopped down in the way sad dog ears do, rather than angry ones, and I just...my muzzle fell open, complete with a few thick drops of blood adding to the trail I'd made on the carpet.

"Wwhat?" I mumbled.

Cobb raked his paw across his muzzle and let out a deep, snarling breath.

"Well you heard me right!" he yelled. "He told me not to tell he's gay and now I did and he's gonna find out and kick my ass!"

I just couldn't comprehend this anymore. My head felt oddly light. What on earth was he saying? Did he really mean what he said? Was Victor gay? What about...what about...but everything...

"I saw the pictures," I muttered, staring at him, "I saw the picture of you at the Chicago Pride...those T-shirts...Cobb..."

His muzzle fell even more open, if that was even physically possible.

"I WAS THE ONE WITH THE 'I'M WITH THE FAG' SHIRT ON!" he bellowed.

I could see the picture on his Facebook, two Dobermans wearing those matching pink T-shirts, surrounded by the crowd of the Pride, little flags, one with an arm thrown over the other's shoulders...sunglasses on...a big grin on one Doberman muzzle...on...

Good God.

He must've seen it on my face, too, the realization dawning on me, on him, too, now, as he suddenly let go of my arm that almost smarted now, from how tightly he had held me there.

Five minutes ago, I'd given anything to have that feeling. Now it just stung with defeat.

"Yeah?" I snorted.

Cobb covered his muzzle with his paws so that the only thing I saw of his face was his eyes, staring at me wildly. He mumbled something his own paws kept away from my ears, and I really couldn't do anything but look back, keep my breaths steady, and try to ignore the nauseating taste of blood on my tongue.

"You thought I'm gay..." he spoke more loudly now, paws still covering up his face, "you...you kissed me..."

"It's not contagious," I grunted.

"You...you're gay, Tate?"

Nothing worse than a sissy.

"Doesn't matter who I am," I said, "I have to go now. This was a bad idea to come here."

"Tate...I'm...I'm so sorry..."

I didn't really hear him anymore. I had to get out of here. I just hoped that he wouldn't follow.

I was out in the hallway within seconds, my blood-stained muzzle held low.

*

Well, phew, here we are again! I hope it's good to be back, and I can't wait to hear what you think about it all!

See you on Friday!