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In matters of socializing and the benefits that came with it, Aivon was a bit green. An experienced college socialite required just a few words with him to realize how sheltered he was. What Aivon had going for him - an exotic hybridized species, a cute face, his height - did little to sway others into friendship with him. The only person he considered a friend, and even then only nominally, was his roommate.

It was 6:30 in the morning right on the nose. Aivon had been awake for thirty minutes; his roommate for twelve hours, give or take, and that meant he was soon to go to bed. When they saw each other in this twilight between their sleep patterns, Aivon tended to learn more about socializing than at any other time. His roommate was savvy and clever. He was handsome, popular, and got laid often. He was also gay, or so he liked to profess, but Aivon saw him necking on girls with some regularity. It was, however, the men he spent his nights with that Aivon wanted most to attain for himself.

On any given morning, either Aivon would ask his roommate how he could stay up all night, or he would ask Aivon how he could be up so early. It was the former today. Aivon tutted, "How can you stand being awake all night and sleeping the day away, Desmond?" He shook his head and stirred his coffee with a spoon.

"You'll figure it out once you get that cherry popped," Desmond yawned. He stripped off his clothes sans briefs and flopped back into bed. His minimal dress was not something new to Aivon, but it never became any easier to look at. The simple truth was that Desmond was a very attractive creature. As a twink fox with raccoon markings and long blonde hair, he could, and to Aivon's knowledge often did, have every other gay man on campus. Aivon was dreadfully jealous, not to mention intimidated.

"Do you have to lay there like that?" Aivon groused, using all his willpower to turn away and open up his laptop. He found his coffee was still too hot to sip.

Desmond sneered. "It's just my crotch. Lots of other guys look at it."

"Yes, and I'm sure it's wonderful. For them," Aivon scoffed. Considering that he was part hyena, it was strange that Aivon was so anal retentive. Though he was outwardly a pretty bird with some hyena features like noticeable ears and a fluffy tail, he was hard-pressed to resist urges to roll in mud and let his musk fester.

None of Aivon's neuroses were lost on Desmond. Whether he intended to help or hurt his stuffy roommate, he tended to always have a remark for the situation. "You'd like it if you gave it a chance. I mean, that folder on the root of your hard drive, nature photos, looks like it's more about big, greasy dicks than flowers." Aivon blanched and choked, though he hadn't taken a sip of coffee. "Considering all that admittedly anecdotal evidence - 'cause, hey, maybe it was on there when you bought the computer - I figure you'd at least maybe like to see my dick."

"I'm sorry, I don't--, you're--," Aivon sputtered and was so embarrassed, he actually began to smile. He set down his coffee lest he spill it on himself. Much more evenly, he asked, "You were on my computer?"

"Only when you asked me to figure out why it was running so slowly." The foxcoon sat up and speared Aivon with a green-eyed gaze and a coy smile to match. "Turns out that Daddy's Ballbag forum is full of spyware."

"All right! All right!" Aivon blurted. "...All right!"

"All right," Desmond interjected, laying back. "Why not just suck my dick and get it over with? I sleep best if I have an orgasm first."

Aivon gawped. He suddenly clapped his beak shut, then blurted, wide-eyed, "Whuh! Well!"

"Well, what? Give me a little sucky-sucky, you know you want to."

"You are mistaken," Aivon hissed. He was quick to add, "And even if I did want to, how? With what lips?"

Desmond chuckled. He rolled off the bed and onto his feet, and Aivon timidly recoiled into his chair. All Desmond did was adjust the thick, black curtain to fully cover the window, however, and he flopped back into bed immediately after. Then he said, "As if I haven't gotten my dick sucked by a bird before."

In an awkward, careful maneuver, something he had learned to do years ago, Aivon sipped his coffee. Finding it inadequately sugary, he added more creamer to it. By that point, it was more or less a whitish mud. "Yes, well," he said in his most officious voice, "we'll not be exploring that."

"I-i-if you-u-u sa-a-ay so-o-o," Desmond sing-songed, trilling every word. He rolled onto his side, facing the wall, and Aivon was given a look at his girlish behind instead, clutched tightly by his briefs. To Aivon, the very portrait of a shameful submissive, Desmond's rear wasn't as enticing as his groin, but it still earned a few furtive looks before he turned to his work. Before long, Desmond was snoring, and Aivon was allowed to put the thoughts to rest.

That evening, when Aivon returned from studies and dinner, he found a pair of underwear - his underwear, he angrily noted - hanging on the doorknob. He pressed an ear to the door: groaning and earnest dirty talk, courtesy of Desmond. Aivon blushed and pulled away from the door, so flustered that he left his boxers where they were.

So that was it. Aivon was locked out of his own dorm while Desmond showed his boyfriend of the week all the ways to hide a penis. He thought about all the people he wasn't friends with, and how he couldn't go and spend the evening with them. And with the country in the economic decline that it was, all of the really fun places to be for a nerd like him were gone. At such a time, Aivon did all he could do: he sat down and played games on his phone, and he waited for access to his room again.

Nobody paid Aivon any mind, and Aivon returned the courtesy. He played without much interest, and occasionally he heard a dirty grunt or a particularly pleasured cry through the wall. He laid down his ears and huffed.

Just over a solid hour had passed before the door opened. Aivon looked up from his spot to see Desmond emerging, dressed haphazardly in sweat pants and an inside-out campus tee. A handsome tiger followed him out and amorously groped his behind, then pulled him into a squeeze in which he dwarfed the fox.

"Mmm, paws off. You got enough of me already, baby," Desmond tutted, pushing back into the tiger. By chance he looked aside and saw Aivon sitting impotently by the door. He laughed and shook off the tiger's stout arms. "How long have you been sitting there?"

Aivon shrugged. Blushing, he got up and tried to slip past Desmond. The fox grabbed his arm and admonished him with a tut. "Now, now. I was just saying this morning you need to get laid, and I've got the perfect guy for it right here."

At that, Aivon looked at the tiger, though he had been trying to ignore him. Their eyes met, and when the big cat suggestively bobbed his eyebrows, Aivon feebly smiled back. "I, uh. No."

"No?" the tiger asked, bemused. "What's his problem, Dez? Is he straight?"

"He's just shy," Desmond sighed, letting go of the hyena-bird whom then discreetly slipped into the dorm.

Desmond said his goodbyes to the tiger, had a little kiss with him, and followed Aivon inside. Per his routine, Aivon sat at the desk and opened his laptop. Grinning ear to ear, Desmond slammed it shut and leaned over the desk, getting into the startled bird's face. "That was pretty rude, he thought you were cute."

"Did he?" Aivon asked, unimpressed. "I don't have any time for jocks. And I have work to do now, so, excuse me."

"Let me get something straight," the charismatic foxcoon mused, peeling off his shirt and slipping off his sweat pants. In his tight briefs and with his paws on his hips, he wondered aloud, "You don't like jocks, but you get all kinds of flustered when I'm barely dressed. Hmm."

Aivon looked feebly at Desmond and kept his eyes above crotch level. "Who says I get flustered?"

Desmond picked up his hairbrush and smoothed out his locks. "Your face does, for one. Your ears," he ripped a knot out of his hair and winced, "always perk up when I'm in my underwear. Not to mention you stutter and bitch more than usual when I bring up sleeping with you."

"Well, it embarrasses me!" Aivon snapped. "If you'll excuse me, now, I have work to do!"

Though he opened his laptop and peered intently at its screen, Aivon remained aware of Desmond as he milled about the room. When the barely-dressed foxcoon approached from behind, he flinched and whipped around, spurring Desmond into a lopsided smile.

"Chill, I'm putting away my hairbrush. What, do you think I'm gonna stick a finger up your butt?"

"I--, you'd better not, that's all," Aivon scoffed, twisting around sharply.

A big grin appeared on Desmond's face. He licked his lips and slowly, carefully put his paws on Aivon's shoulders. The hybrid bird grunted. "Desmond, stop it."

"You need to get laid, because this whole stuffiness thing? It's really a detriment to my good moods."

"I'm sorry," Aivon insincerely said, "if my quote-unquote stuffiness is a bother to you, but I am here to further my education, not play doctor with the football team!"

"Doctor's too broad, we play proctologist," Desmond snidely corrected. "And look, Aivon, me lit'le twat," he said with a brief Cockney twang, "try it before you bitch about it. You might just loosen the fuck up."

Though bristling from the insult, Aivon was curiously receptive. "If it will--, ah, listen! If it will make you leave me be so I can study and work, then I guess I'll give it a try, for a minute."

Desmond was surprised, but not for very long. "Hm. Okay, then."

"Okay then?"

"Hey, you called my bluff. And I just got laid myself, so, uh, let me get back to you in a few hours or something."

Unbelievable! Aivon thought, blushing and grimacing. He waved Desmond off and the fox surprisingly left him alone, soon dressing and leaving for parts unknown to Aivon. By himself and quite nervous about his new obligation, he got very little work done.

It wasn't until the next morning that Desmond returned. He dragged himself into the dorm just as Aivon was sipping his morning coffee, sitting at the desk in his boxers. He looked at Desmond and smiled timidly. "Good morning."

"Good night," Desmond grunted, stripping down to his briefs, leaving his outerwear in a heap. "I just spent the whole night at a barbecue. They were out of beer by the time I got there. I'm full of burned hotdogs and I'd appreciate," he paused to yawn, "if you could pull the fucking curtain shut."

"Sure," Aivon amicably said, and he did just that. After another sip of coffee he asked, returning to his seat, "I guess you were just teasing me last night, then?"

"About?" A beat. "Oh, well, he might have fucked you, I guess. I think he was more interested in me, though, since I look like his ex-girlfriend."

Aivon waved his paw as if dispersing a bad smell. "No, no, not him. You!"

Tiredly, Desmond sat up. His haggard face lacked any of its usual charm. "I'm firing on like three cylinders here, be a bit more fucking specific."

"You said," Aivon scoffed, "that you'd sleep with me, but you needed a few hours. I believe you wanted fellatio from me."

Slow, stupid recollection played across Desmond's face. He eventually flopped back and grunted. "Yeah, okay, you actually want to do that. All right. There's something in my side of the desk. Uh, bottom drawer, I think."

By virtue of his shy ways, Aivon had never looked through Desmond's half of the desk drawers. He blushed when he saw what was inside: a couple of dildos, both medium-sized, one of canine shape and the other equine. "Um, these?" he asked, touching one curiously. "These, ah, fake phalluses?"

"Nnno-o-o," Desmond groaned. "Up one drawer, sorry."

Aivon looked there, too. Condoms and lubricant were most apparent, but before he could ask which one he needed, he found something else. It was wrapped like the condoms, but larger, and with an eye-catching pictograph of a beak on it. "Beak Sheaths - Avian Oral Protection?" he warily asked.

"That'd be it. Come on over here, now. I'm gonna keep being lazy, so you better figure this out for yourself."

The bird took another sip of his coffee, then came near blushing. He found it difficult to tear the little perforations with his fingers beginning to nervously tremble, but he managed the task. Then he almost dropped one of the latex pieces, catching it in mid-air.

From his prone spot, Desmond watched with no small amount of amusement as Aivon, standing between the beds, applied the item. It came in two halves, both a neon shade of pink in this case, and they were made to affix to the edge of any beak. When Aivon finally got them applied correctly to his black beak, he looked shamefully at Desmond and said in a slightly mush-mouthed way, "I must look ridiculous."

"A little bit," Desmond grinned, "but now you can blow me without maiming me. Congrats."

Blushing and shaky, much too nervous to become erect himself, Aivon knelt on the bed and put his tentative paws on Desmond's waist. He looked at the foxcoon's groin, and there, tenting his briefs, was his erection. The bird huffed and tongued the inner edge of the beak sheath absently, then slipped his fingers into Desmond's briefs. He peeled them downward at an agonizingly slow pace, and pulled them out quite far so as to not snag the fox's penis - and then it came into view. Aivon dragged his tongue across his temporary latex lips.

To someone whom had only seen penises in pornography and during furtive glances in the high school locker room, Aivon was not ready for the reality of a cock being in his reach. It was small, at least compared to what he knew, and it wasn't perfect like the ones he saw in his alleged nature photos. It listed to the side a little bit, and the foreskin bared only the frontmost quarter inch of the glans. Yet it was all for him, and the thought made his tail swish involuntarily.

"I--, I do what, now? Do I just--?"

Desmond yawned. "First of all," he mumbled, "tuck the waistband under my balls. If you let it slip out of your fingers, it'll snap me like a rubber band, and if that happens, I'm kicking you in your balls." Aivon nodded bashfully and obeyed. Then, promisingly, he cupped Desmond's exposed sack in his paw and held it, seeming to contemplate it. "Mmm, and as for the rest, just... Just do something. It's a blowjob, you're not sending someone to Mars."

"Right, yes," Aivon muttered, dipping his head lower, lower, and lower still, his pace slow and movements uncertain. He thought it was nice that Desmond wasn't nagging him, but the reality was that the fox was fighting to stay awake. From the first moment Aivon's latex-clad beak met his meat, however, Desmond found himself a bit too stimulated to pass out.

Unintentionally, Aivon let the sheath drag across Desmond's penis as he took it into his beak, but the effect made Desmond moan. The bird was still untrustworthy of the protection he wore and took pains not to bite Desmond, and therefore he didn't suck the fox, either. Instead he lapped across the underside of Desmond's cock, and this sent a shiver down Aivon's spine. The flavor was difficult to comprehend. Aivon had never tasted a sweaty body or really partaken in the subtle pleasures of musk. But he inhaled greedily through his nostrils, and he shuddered.

Aivon tested the waters in that he let his covered beak edges rest on Desmond's meat. He wasn't yet sucking, but he treated the shaft, which throbbed more and more as the tentative pleasuring went on, to lollipop laps along its bottom. Pre drooled across Aivon's tongue, and the liquid musk tasted bitter to him. In the same breath, it was enticing, and he slowly closed his eyes as he gave in to greater urges.

"Mmm," Desmond cooed, adjusting his pillow. "You can be a little more rough. It's not made of glass."

The bird looked up at Desmond worrisomely, yet the foxcoon had his eyes closed and his muzzle pointed upward. There was no confidence to be gleaned from his eyes or nuances to play off of on his face, so Aivon again closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. He settled down against the bed and he lay one of his still-trembling paws on the fox's slim abdomen. Desmond's fur was wonderfully plush and Aivon envied the texture.

Of course Aivon's chief concern was was what in his beak. He relaxed that too, letting his beak close a little more forcefully. The thick buffer of the beak sheath allowed him to form a seal as if with a pair of lips or jowls, and he gradually realized the implications with a cherry-red blush on his face.

Finally the bird started to suck, and the noise was eager and wet. Aivon suckled as hard as he could and for as long as he could maintain a seal, in turn letting his tongue rest. Suckling Desmond with as much force as he could muster was evidently difficult and he showed this in the way he gripped the sheets for support.

"Easy, e-e-easy," Desmond hissed, rubbing the back of Aivon's head, petting over his ears. "Pacing is important. And by that, I mean you're not trying to suck the venom out of it."

Aivon broke the seal completely, producing a loud, wet smack. Desmond gasped enticingly and slightly arched out his spine, pushing his belly into Aivon's paw. "That was really good," he crooned, his paws falling away to his sides. "Just... Take it easy. Suck, lick, bob, gnaw a little. Also," he trailed off with a smile and grabbed Aivon's paw on his belly. Under his guiding touch, he coaxed the hybrid bird to rub and caress. "Touch me. It's not all about what you do with your mouth. Beak. Whatever."

Quite shyly, Aivon pulled off of the foxcoon's cock and, in a moment of what he thought was creative flair, licked its bottom and flicked the glans with the tip of his tongue. Still speaking inarticulately as he bumped his tongue into the edges of the sheath, he said, "This is a lot to take in. I've never done it before."

Snide even when tired, Desmond replied, "Then next time you blow someone, they can thank me for being the guinea pig." He shifted his stiff legs and stretched his arms, butting the heel of his paw into the wall. As he relaxed, Aivon went back to work more confidently, yet to say he was certain of his actions was wrong. There was still a timid, almost apologetic quality to the manner in which he dragged the sheath across Desmond's penis and tongue lashed the shaft. And the way he rubbed Desmond's breast, though the fox appreciated it, was contrived.

But for all his misgivings, Aivon was pleasuring Desmond. The foxcoon petted along the bird's head, rubbing his ears and the white tuft of down. A low, droning moan passed his lips when Aivon so happened to hit the right spots, and it encouraged the bird to experiment. Indeed, Aivon found that he coaxed the most pleasurable noises from Desmond when he mixed up his actions. Suckling, lapping, and bobbing, with liberal strokes across the twink's body, had the tired fox huffing and cooing in no time.

"Gawd," Desmond puffed, "tweak my nipples. Don't--, don't act weird about it, just do it."

Aivon was, in fact, quite comfortable with the idea. In times of shameful self-abuse, he loved to twist and rub his own nipples, often under the spell of a fantasy in which some larger, meaner fellow was doing the tweaking for him. Aivon reached up with both downy paws and pinched Desmond's pert, pink nubs like dials. He gently twisted them, tuning him in different directions, yet never too far. Under his ministrations, Desmond first giggled, then crooned, and finally arched his spine more strongly, bucking his loins into the bird's beak.

"Oh, shit, hon. Fu-u-u-ck me. You have some gifted fingers," Desmond panted, laying his soft paws over Aivon's. "Harder..."

Though the oral pleasures were practically idle as Aivon focused on Desmond's nipples, he discovered at that moment just how sensitive Desmond's breast was, and at the same time, he shed some of his shame for enjoying the same stimulation. He all but wrenched on the foxcoon's nipples, tweaking and pinching until the fox shrieked in pleasurable pain.

Desmond bit his bottom jowl and whined through it. He bucked up again, then fell flat on the bed, still holding Aivon's paws in his. "Shit, shi-i-it, fuck," he grunted, garbling his words through his bitten lower lip. To the side, his tail, which had lazily hung off the bed, began to thrash and twitch. His toes curled and his eyes rolled back behind their lids.

Suddenly Aivon felt the first rope of Desmond's cum, the mess salty and gooey. He panicked and went wide-eyed, yanking his paws away from the foxcoon's body to grip the sheets instead. What was he supposed to do? Was it polite to spit? And if so, where would he spit it? Then he came more and more, quite a large load for someone as modestly hung as Desmond, and Aivon gulped it down, unintentionally solving his crisis while sparking another one for later.

When the orgasm tapered off and Desmond lie panting and slack, Aivon pulled back, again at that agonizing pace. He looked at Desmond with beet-red cheeks. "Desmond?"

The fox laughed quietly at Aivon's mumbling voice. "Take that thing off, we're done now. You sound ridiculous."

"Um, yes," Aivon concurred, speaking the word as yesh. When Aivon returned from the waste bin by the desk, he realized in an ongoing state of self-consciousness that he was hard. He lamely remarked as such.

Desmond opened his lazy green eyes and looked at Aivon's tented boxers. He smiled and scooted over on his bed, nearly pressing his back to the wall.

Aivon saw what was implied and joined him. He found himself trembling again. "Wuh-well. What now?"

"Now? Now, just relax, shhh," Desmond cooed, snaking his paw under Aivon's boxers. He kissed his cheek where his beak met his downy fur. "I think a favor for a favor is fair. I'll take good care of you."