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Peter had moved years prior, no longer living across the street from me like he did when the boys were young. I follow him inside, it's smaller than my place which I have to admit brings me some small amount of satisfaction.

“Sit." He points at a large recliner in the living room.

It's a tastefully decorated place, and I mentally hit myself when I wonder if the boys helped him put it together. This is hard. How does anyone expect me to undo years of this kind of thinking overnight?

It's not fair!

Peter returns with a bottle of whiskey and two small glasses. He pours two and hands one to me. “We're not leaving here until the bottle is empty, and you're done with your bullshit."

“What?" I ask.

“And tomorrow you're going to meet Ky and Kevin and apologize." He says decisively. “I don't care what it takes."

“Why do you care? Last I checked, you hate me." I take the shot glass and empty it in one motion, cringing as it burns my throat.

“I'm doing this for the boys. Not you." He swallows his drink. “You know I think of Kevin as my own son."

I frown. In recent years Kevin has always seemed to go to Peter for help, and I grew to hate him for it. “Yeah." I pour another drink.

The conversation dies while I stew in my resentment of the tiger. His eyes are fixed on me like he's looking for some crack or weakness. I finish my second drink. His big sapphire eyes locked on mine. His fur has taken on a darker tone in the soft lamplight, he looks so dark and mysterious. I never really noticed just how big his arms are unt–

My face feels warm and I pour another glass. Whiskey always gets me red in the face, I think.

“You know they're a good couple, Mike. Even past all your homophobic bullshit you know that." It's his turn to drink.

“I do. I know! They're best friends, they like all the same stuff." I smile. “Remember when we got called into the school?"

Peter laughs. “Which time? When they set off the fire alarms, locked a teacher in the supply closet, or when Kevin went berserk with a baseball bat on those bullies?"

I'm proud of that last one, at the time I thought it was just Kevin sticking up for his friend. I sigh and wonder where he learned that from. Not me, surely. Ky was always coming up with some clever scheme or prank and Kevin had the muscle to pull it off.

“All of them, I guess," I say. “They're one dynamic duo. Better than me and my ex-wife."

“Cheers to that." Peter raises his glass.

Neither of us has had a successful marriage, I don't know the details of why Peter and his wife split up but I'm starting to understand more why mine and I did. Had she noticed what Peter had? Once he graduated Highschool Kevin spent a lot more time with his mom than me…

“Is it just, I dunno, easier for gay guys?" Another drink.

“How do you mean?" He wipes his muzzle with one large paw.

“They like the same kinda stuff, mostly, guys just get each other. Y'know?" I say.

“Maybe. I dunno." He scratches his chin.

“Plus it's a lot easier to tell when guys are horny than girls." Not sure where that came from.

Peter howls with laughter. “Buddy everyone in a ten-mile radius can tell when your son's horny, gay or not."

“What's that supposed to mean?!" I object.

“Gonna need a drink for this." Peter finishes his third, maybe fourth, and we've knocked out about a quarter of the bottle. “So the first time the boys came home from college I let em' share a bedroom."

I grimace, not really wanting to think about my son and Ky in bed together. “You didn't before?"

“I did the whole 'keep the door open!' thing dads are supposed to do, but I'm sure they got up to no good." He shakes his head and his tail flicks aimlessly. “Anyways, I'm lyin' in bed ready to sleep when I hear laughin' and rough-housin' or whatever." He looks around nervously before taking another drink.

Is he embarrassed?

“I hear Ky meowin' and mewin' like… well…" His words are getting shorter and sharper, probably the booze. “Like a kitten."

I laugh thinking back to dinner. “I bet I can guess whose pitching and whose catching!"

Peter growls. “Yeah, yeah, but lemme tell you, Kevin is LOUD." Fourth, maybe fifth, drink down. “I had to turn on the TV, put on some white noise, and I STILL heard him! 'Oooh good kitty, you're my good little kitty, you look so cute kitty.' Ugh." He drags a paw down his face.

My face gets redder and redder as he tells the story. I don't even notice my hand reaching toward the whiskey bottle, colliding with Peter's thick fingers. I don't move, why don't I move?!

“Lemme get you another drink." He pours one for each of us. “Sounded like they have better sex than me and the ex ever did."

“Sounds like it…" I gulp. “You hear em' often?"

He sighs. “Anytime they're over. Walked in on em' more than once."

“What was the worst, most embarrassing time?" My heart rate rises, and I notice my hand is shaking slightly. I'm not that drunk, am I?

He lowers his voice to a bassy rumble. “I was coming home from work, the boys had just gotten home from school." He drinks, and so do I. “I'm in the garage and I hear them on the other side of the door in the kitchen, Kevin was saying all kinds of stuff."

We drink together in silence for almost half an hour when, after my fifth or sixth drink, I speak up. “What did he say?" Why did I ask that?!

Peter appraises me slowly, and in an unexpected turn, he unbuttons his shirt. “Drinking gets me warm." He insists. He scratches his muscular beige-colored chest, resting one paw on a large sculpted pec.

I scoot forward and lean in, hardly aware of the blood flowing to my crotch. “Don't know where the kid got all his boldness from, hah!"

Peter pats the seat next to him. “Bring the bottle closer, I think we're gonna need it on hand."

“That embarrassing, huh?" I force a laugh and sit next to the large tiger. He's got nearly a foot on me, we have a similar size difference as our boys.

“Yep." His paw slides down his chest. “So I was in the garage, just listening when I hear Kevin say 'My kitten makes a good bitch, doesn't he?'"

Peter is staring down at me, waiting for my response. “Wow, that's…Wow."

“I thought so too. Never heard him talk to Ky like that, so I was curious." He raises his glass again, inviting me to drink. “I cracked open the door and snuck a peek."

“What did you see." I watch his paw travel lower, my own hand resting on my crotch.

“Ky had his legs up in the air on Kevin's shoulders, they were fucking on the kitchen floor." He leans closer. “Ky was practically drooling on himself, begging to get fucked."

I watch Peter massage his crotch, without thinking I lick my lips. “He was?"

“Yeah, your boy must be a wizard with his dick. Pretty big from what I saw too." He notes. "For a human."

A lecherous pride fills my chest while I listen. “G-good! Of course, he is!" My eyes don't leave Peter's rapidly inflating bulge.

“Ever notice how our sons are opposites from us?" Peter's voice is dark and heavy.

“H-how do you mean?" I swallow.

“Kevin is muscular, confident, kind of a man's-man. Ky is chubby, a little shy, more reserved." He remarks. “I wonder if that's all."

I remove my eyes from Peter's junk and stare into his face. “What else would there be?"

He shrugs. “Just wondering. Can I tell you a secret?"

I nod.

“I watched your boy fuck my son. Dunno why I did it, I never told them." He refills our drinks that we'd emptied just a moment before. “I watched Kevin pump his load into Ky. Ky begged for it the whole time. He came from it. As your son said, guess Ky makes a good bitch." He brings his muzzle to my ear, breathing on my neck.

I just nod and drink.

“One time I heard Ky beg for Kevin to eat his ass. Every time they come over I hear them, and I can't help but think Kev must be a real beast." Peter says, pouring another drink before returning his paw to his crotch. “He said 'I love your fat ass, kitten. I love to eat it, finger it, fuck it, your big ass feels so good on my cock.' S'good they turn each other on so much. More than me and the missus ever did." He glances down at me. “You ever been fucked, Mike?"

“N-no." What's going on? Did he put something in the drinks?! Fuck! When did I get so hard listening to a story about our sons fucking?! I mean I've been pegged once or twice– NO!

“I got real curious after that, went and got my dick sucked by some guys. Fucked a few." He says as if it's a natural, normal response after watching your son get filled with cum.

Why am I still thinking about that?!

I look down and gasp, Peter's jeans have been unbuttoned and his thin white-underwear is barely containing his bulge. I get a brief whiff of his scent, it's so masculine and strong. Like him with his big arms, his muscular chest and–

“M-maybe we should go to bed?" I hope that sounded better than I think it does.

“Really?" Peter's face is still perilously close to mine, our lips are nearly touching now.

I whimper when I feel a padded finger lift my chin.

“Bottles almost empty, but I don't think you're ready." He growls.

“Wh-wha-what do I need to be r-ready? We can get–Mmmf!" My eyes widen as his whiskers tickle my cheeks and his rough tongue invades my mouth, but I don't pull away.

He frees me from the kiss. “You need to get fucked, Mike."