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Of Surprise and A Spy

By: ToKu

It was sterile, clean, obsessively organized and meticulously kept, as always. Not a chair out of place or an elegant wall-hanging skewed. The whole office was symmetrical; from the large red stained oak desk to the standing lamps in each corner, even the arrangement of various framed certificates of accomplishments were hung with grueling alignment. The heavy oak desk was bare except for a fountain pen holder, two desk lamps, and a small intercom used to call his home secretary, a servant or maid from down the hall. The air was stuffy, almost too warm but void of unnecessary smells, although a slew of emotions could be felt, mingled with the humidity; fear, frustration and sexual anxiety were so thick they could have condensed into cerebral precipitation.

Thurston Dougrey sat behind this polished desk, a glass of bourbon in one paw while the other absently unbuttoned his blue collared work shirt, his tie already tossed by the wayside. His face fur was combed straight but eyes were dark, sunk and haunting yet all together empty as he watched the other wolf across from him strip with a blank and almost uninterested gaze.

Nathaniel Dougrey stood sobbing as he slowly slid his pants to the ground, his white cotton briefs hardly containing the erection jutting out from his crotch. Twice the size of his older brother, though Nathaniel never had the confidence nor the charisma of Thurston; always tailing in his shadows and striving desperately for his affection. He knew that their relationship was different and could never be like normal brothers. To many things had happened to prevent that and there was no going back. Not now after all these years. The older wolf simply took a sip of his bitter liquor as his own erection stirred to life.

Ever since he had been back to that pitiful ramshackle of a house, far out in the dusty outskirts of town where those rottweilers lived in their own filth, his mind had been plagued by his past: by Rolland McGregor, by the repeated rapes and the forced intercourse with his younger brother when they were still in junior high school. Even now it seemed like such a far off memory only remembered by their repeated rituals of incestuous debauchery. The tiger was now locked up, probably reliving the horrors of his victims, filling their shoes over and over again but the feline still seemed to have dominion over his life. His son was back, he was partially glad yet completely nauseated by it.

He had never wanted children. Not after what had happened to him as a child. He didn't want what happened to him to happen to one of his own offspring, but his wife insisted and before he knew it the young wolf-shepard boy was nearly his age when he had first fucked his ten year old brother. But Zachary didn't have his own siblings and somehow that didn't stop the tiger from getting his paws on the boy. Black mail and threats nearly ruined Thurston, nearly brought his whole company down with a whisper of the past. He had no choice but to give the tiger what he wanted. And thus he chose his legacy over his family.

"I don't know why you're sobbing like some forgotten pig, left at an alter." Thurston grunted, slamming his now empty bourbon glass down on his desk with a loud band. He was tired of hearing about his brother's personal life; his loves, his losses, his failures. "Look at everything that has happened to me. Look at where I am. If I let any trivial thing like love or heartache get in my way I would never have climbed to the top. That's your failure in life Nathan, you 'feel' to god damned much. Now stop your whimpering and wipe your nose or I'll be too repulsed to fuck you tonight."

This only made the younger wolf ball harder, his tears streaming down into his matted cheek fur, all the while his husky form bouncing and shuttering with the uncontrollable sobs. He had stopped with his underwear halfway to his knees, overtaken by his sudden despair. Thurston knew the 'hold' he had over his younger sibling and although it had once sickened him, it had simply evolved into another nuisance. Fucking his wife was out of the question as she seemed to despise him as much as he did her, but with Nathan at least he could release his sexual frustrations without much trouble, usually.

With a sigh he rose from his chair, the leather seat sighing in relief, his left paw absentmindedly worked on his now constrained fly. He circled around the desk, eyeing his nearly naked brother like some bizarre carnival freak show, the younger wolf's cock was swollen, red and practically begging to be touched, for release; Thurston ignored it. Instead he came up beside him without the younger truly noticing, and when he did he seemed to convulse in surprise.

"Bend over." Thurston demanded.

He only got sobs at first, but slowly the younger yet larger wolf slowly doubled over the edge of the dark oak desk, his paws pulled in close to his face, his tail arched and the sudden overwhelming scent of submission filled the air.

Shucking off his shirt, Thurston undid the last of his fly, pulling his knotted cock out from the confines of his Ralph Lauren designer briefs. It too was smaller than his younger brother's, a cruel but ironic fate considering their past history of submission and domination spurred on by the pedophile tiger Rolland. Thurston's paw grasped the tip of his cock, squeezing as he slid down the length to the knot that would soon fill his younger brother's tail-hole.

Rearing up behind him, Thurston took hold of Nathan's bushy tail, pulling it to one side, out of the way while his other paw hefted his purple-red cock between the soft white fur of his siblings buttocks. Heavy it sat, like a jumbo frank in a oven-fresh bun. The older wolf didn't even have to do anything, Nathan suddenly began to squirm, between each sob and hiccup the younger would shift his hips and press his ass back against his brother's groin, the knotted cock smearing pre-cum as it slipped and slid.

"Teddy" Nathan cried a moan, his cheeks thrusting backwards.

Thurston hesitated at the mention of that name. It had been a long time since he had been called that, a long time since the only person to ever call him that uttered that word in his presence. Thurston remembered the first time he had fucked Nathan, the first time he had slid his adolescent cock into the younger wolf's virgin hole under the threats of violence from a bully tiger. He had used the same name back then. It was what he always used to refer to his older brother. Even now it was ancient history, the name having died a long time ago. He couldn't guess at the reasoning behind the nostalgic vomit, only that Nathan was an emotional wreck and clearly just as horny.

Thurston aligned his cock with Nathan's well worn tail-hole and slipped in to the knot without more than a moment of silence and a long shuddering sigh from Nathan. He resisted the urge to sigh himself and after pressing his knot hard against the spongy flesh, withdrew his cock completely. Glancing down he could see a void, a space filled only by phantom cock before the red muscles constricted to a loose pucker.

"Who's been fucking you, Nathan?" Thurston asked as he dove back in to the knot, leaning as much of his weight into the movement as their positions allowed. Not that he cared but his younger brother was much looser than the last time he had been inside him. "Your ass isn't hugging my cock like it used to. Who's been fucking you, Nathan? Is that why you're so upset? I bet they don't fuck you like I do."

Nathan only cried in sloppy moans while Thurston withdrew then buried himself, repeating the motion again and again. Each time he would pull out entirely, pause and wait for the ring of muscles to tighten before plunging back in.

"Not that it matter.s.." Thurston said slapping his hips against Nathan's thick butt cheeks. "It'll just make it that much easier to tie into you."

Nathan whimpered but there was no mistaking his slight nods of approval.

"Teddy." The name came again

Thurston remembered his eleven year old brother's gaze desperately searching the tear filled eyes of his older, even after his cock was buried deep inside of him, the longing, the trust, the dedication never wavered. Even after all these years, long after any sort of affection had faded from the older wolf, the younger was still unconditionally attached. It sickened Thurston to no end so he simply fucked harder, the pauses between pull outs shortened and the forceful thrusts back inside the younger wolf's soft insides became more and more brutal, punching the air from his lungs each time.

His knot popped in suddenly without warning, he heard Nathan choke on his own saliva while his whole body shook. That didn't stop Thurston from instantly ripping his knot from it's tunnel. _'He's jerking off.'_the older wolf noticed the subtle movements of a thick white arm as it worked under his weight. It didn't do anything to turn Thurston on or off yet it served another purpose; proof that his brother desired this treatment, longed for it, needed it in order to survive. A part of Thurston's conscience blamed the tiger, but he knew in the pit of his being that their relationship, this domination, was entirely his doing. It didn't make him sad, or upset, or horny, it was simply fact, and that fact drove him on with wild abandon, closer and closer to orgasm.

It wasn't meant to be tender, to be pleasant or to last; his thrusts, his fucks, as rough and sloppy as they were becoming, they served only as a means to continue on, fuel for a lackluster life. Devotion and domination, keys to continuation in a black and white world where only the strong and ruthless survive and the weak grovel at the tips of cocks. The bleakness made his balls boil with white hot fury and he could feel the seminal fluids rushing up through the tubes in his groin like liquid in chemistry sets; boiling in the Florence flask of his balls, gushing up though his urethra, passed his knot, up along the length of his vein ridden cock and injected into his brother's sticky guts.

His knot still popped in and out of Nathan's stretched and puckered tail-hole like a wrecking ball through mud. Cum gushed from the orifice, frothing up with the repeated tie and untie. The cries of pain and pleasure fell upon deaf ears as the whole of Thurston's cock abruptly forced its way deep inside Nathan, churning his insides in brotherly dominance. The older wolf breathed deep, soaking up the stench of fear and fulfillment, fright and felicity. Thurston heard words come from his brother then, incoherent at first, mumbled moans and guttural grunts as his prostate undoubtedly played host to his persistent cock tip.

"C-came, came t-th-three t-t-times..." He groaned.

With a cruel smirk Thurston ripped himself from his brother's colon. Coughs and gasps erupted from his throat as the older canine took several steps back, blood red cock swaying and dripping, all while admiring the view of his brother's ruined, out-turned asshole.

"I came once and there is still more cum dripping from your cunt than is dripping from your dick." Thurston chuckled with a dark mirth, his breath labored but his resolve all the clearer, his scenes heightened. "You've been jerking off too much, or getting fucked too often. Fucking slut."

"Your...s-s..." Nathan grumbled, still bent over the desk, his face buried in his paws while his tail-hole quivered and puckered in the sudden absence of cock.

"My slut?" Thurston laughed outright, his boner bobbing, flinging stray strands of cum as it bounced. "Obviously untrue. Now hurry up and clean yourself up. I need those samples you recovered for me."

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Zachary lay on his back on the carpeted floor of an empty room, naked, hard, and on the brink of orgasm. His clothes lay strewn about him, discarded in haste. A paw steadied himself as he lay along the baseboard of the farthest wall from the closed door, his face aligned with a small draft vent that ran from this small unfurnished room to his father's office on the other side. His nose breathed in the nostalgic scent of old, dusty wallpaper, lavender carpet fresh, and copious amounts of cum. His other paw worked furiously between his legs; paw pads gliding over his modest length with the relatively new help of pre-cum.

The overwhelming scent of sex wafted in through the vent like a miasma of smut. He couldn't help but shove his muzzle against the metal grate, breathing deep the odors that road home on the sounds of balls slapping, maws moaning and cocks fucking. They invaded his senses and conjured up memories of the cage he had lived in for nearly two months. How he got to come out if he sucked a cock, took a dick up the tail-hole, or simply made to jerk off in front of different older males. The sounds of his father fucking his uncle brought back horrible yet fond memories of similar situations where Zachary's tail hole was stretched so far open he felt on fire even if he was soaked in some fur's pee or slimed with multiple loads.

He couldn't see their faces; Nathan's was buried in his paws while his father's was cut off from the limited view of the vent shaft. But he could see their bodies, naked and stocky, strong and sexy. He had never seen his father naked before, not even shirtless, and yet now he was fully exposed and fucking his brother. Zachary's brain was abuzz with a torrent of revelations while his paw did the best to keep them at bay with the steady, slick, shuck of his cock, pausing only momentarily to squeeze his knot with his fist before returning to his pumping motions.

He watched intently, breathing in the air, biting his tongue. He longed to moan out, sigh and grunt along with his uncle. He even imagined his father fucking him; maybe not as forcefully, but steadily none the less. Then he imagined both his father and uncle double-penetrating him much like that tiger and bear usually had done.

He could feel himself getting closer and closer to orgasm but he wanted it to sync up with his father's or even his uncle. He knew the right moment would present itself, it always did. There was a time an place for orgasm. You never wanted to cum too soon, and miss out on the good part, or cum too late and end up tired. Pausing a moment, allowing his body to fall back from the precipice of orgasm, he turned his head away from the vent. Chancing to hope he wouldn't miss anything, he glanced down the length of his body, past his flat furry chest, his newly forming belly, thanks to Jacobson's cooking, to his cock of rather ordinary size, based with new pubic fur and two growing furry balls which he grabbed up and smashed up against his knot. He curiously watched as a bead of pre-cum formed at the tip, growing until it was finally brought to dripping from its own gravity. 'So Close.'

The sudden far away whimper from his uncle brought his gaze back to the vent. His father was knot fucking him, something Zachary had only seen and not experienced. Before he had stayed with the tiger in his cage he had spent the night at a house where three black dog's lived, 'rotties' Rolland had called them. The oldest was that father of the younger two. That night that dad had fucked his oldest son four times, two of which involved his knot and repeated ties.

Zachary, still in awe of his father's body and nudity, could tell when a male was close to orgasm. The older wolf breathed hard while a glint could be seen in the corner of his eye that spoke of desperation and the urgency of orgasm. He was so familiar with the tell-tail signs that his paw reacted on its own accord, returning to his freshly slicked cock were, within a few deliberate strokes, was on the verge once again.

Down the vent he could see his father slamming into his uncle; such force, such velocity, even simply witnessing it was enough to bring a subtle moan to Zachary's muzzle. He wouldn't allow himself to look away, to watch his own wondrous orgasm as he normally did. His father was too much of a sight to behold. He felt a slight pang for Nathan, the poor wolf was already cumming, his emissions sprinkling the floor with a glistening wetness. Zachary felt it then, that well-known build and break, the slow crashing wave, the point of no return. He shuddered, his nose pressed hard against the vent grate, eyes glued as his father rammed deep into his brother, rooted as he bread him.

The young pup felt splatter after splatter wet his belly; a burning heat that cooled to a pleasant warmth then finally to a cold sogginess as he paw slowed. Time seemed to stop for a moment. He lay there paralyzed. Someone could have walked in and he wouldn't have been able to react. Luckily for him this room, among others, were seldom used. They were old servant rooms, but the house staff was much smaller than it had been when he was just a cub.

The scent of cum and sex was still strong. His own emissions wafted up in his face prompting an automatic response in his arm muscles. He brought his paw to his mouth where he attentively sucked the cum off, savoring the cool salty taste. He heard words now, talking. His father's voice was fiercely dominant. Nathan slowly rose, his face was red and tear's stained but his cock was just as hard as his older brother's, Zachary's father. He couldn't help but gaze from one to the other, almost similar in every way except that Nathan's was a bit more curved and considerably larger.

"I need those sample you recovered for me." His father spoke. Zachary watched as he walked around his desk, stepping over his discarded clothes until he disappeared from sight. There was the sound of his desk chair creaking as he sat and the soft sobs and hic-ups of Nathan as he remained standing and naked like a sad old pup, beaten, defeated; ankles shackled by his pants, thoroughly fucked and tail-tucked in shame. "You did get them, didn't you?"

"Of c-course I-I did." Nathan whimpered lightly. "I just don't know why you n-need them."

"I told you," Thurston spoke angrily. "It's for my own reasons. Why should I have to tell you what they're for."

"I just..." Nathan hesitated, clearly weighing if his persistence was worth the scold. Zachary knew his dad could be scary. He usually didn't yell at him but he had always had a way with his eyes and with his tones that could make you feel tiny and worthless. "It wasn't easy to get them without signing the log book at forensics. I could get into a lot of trouble."

"You think I would let some half-wit cop or crooked judge take you away from me?" Thurston grunted. Zachary heard his father open one of his desk drawers and the distinct sound of liquid pouring into a glass. "You don't need to worry yourself over something like that. Just do as I say."

"T-the samples are in my car." Nathan sighed with his head down. "I can give them to you before I leave."

"Running back to your fuck buddy?"

"N-n, well, I-I..." Nathan shuddered.

"Ugh, forget it. It's not like you wont be back. Just get me those samples."

"Zachary?"

The sudden voice shook the young pup with a desperate fear. With a quick turn of his head he saw the hulking form of Jacobson, the boar who cooked for his father. He would have flinched to hide his nudity but the cook had already seen him naked countless times in the past few days alone.

"I-I..." Zachary croaked feeling a lot like how his uncle must feel despite his pleasure to see the big boar and not some other servant, his mother, or worse; his own father.

"Dear child," Jacobson said crouching down and speaking in hushed but kind tones; grabbing up the boy's shirt nearby along with his shorts before regarding the spunk scented boy. "What's the meaning of this?"

Zachary simply pressed his sticky fingers to his lips again and hushed the boar before pointing to the vent. Jacobson pause, listening a moment but already the voices had died down and the only thing truly audible was his own heavy breathing. Not even the rustle of clothes or the pouring of more liquid could be heard and conversation had ceased with those final demands.

"Come on, let's get you back to your room." Jacobson said with the softest of voices. He handed the pup his clothes before scooping him up with his massive arms. He smelt of oregano, thyme and hickory over the normal old world musk he always carried about him. Zachary breathed in, soaking in the scent and enjoying the sensations of burly arms spiriting him away. "On second thought, the cleaning ladies are out and about today, making their rounds, better to take you to my room. You can get a bath there and be on your way."

"D-do you wanna take a bath with me?" Zachary asked his voice sounding small and far from his own body while his mind still raced with what he had witnessed within the walls of his father's office. He felt rather surreal; carried aloft by Jacobson like an baby and couldn't help but feel small and rather insignificant. "I gotta tell you something anyways."

"More of your fantasies?" Jacobson asked with the lightest of heavy inflections. He could tell the old boar was tired. It must have been a long day. Not only did he cook for his father but for the rest of the house staff as well. The lingering scents of Italian cooking made Zachary's growing belly rumble and his particularly dry mouth water.

"No, just something I heard." Zachary shrugged, noticing his cock was finally back in its sheath but still thick enough to flop too and fro when ever Jacobson's heavy foot falls made contact with the carpeted hallway. He wasn't sure if it was noticed, but he did make sure to hold his clothes to his chest like a child would a stuffed animal instead of covering his privates.

"It had been a long day..." Jacobson spoke with a heavy sigh, pushing a door on his left open, letting the two of them into a spacious yet rather plain bathing room. "Does your Father know you're down here? I couldn't fathom him walking in on us bathing together."

"No, he's busy..." Zachary said, almost wanting to explain what he saw right then and there but he had learned a little bit of what Jacobson called tact and figured that conversation was best saved for the warm waters of a bath.

Jacobson set him down on his foot paws and busied himself with running the bath waters. Zachary figured it was just about time for his bath anyways, the sun was already starting to set when he had seen his uncle pull up in the driveway out front. Curiosity had got the better of him and he had secretly followed the older wolf to where his dad's office was. Knowing the house like the back of his paw, he scurried down the halls to the servants quarters and found the room with the vent. The rest was history.

"How did you know I was in that room, Jacobson?" Zachary asked.

"You weren't exactly being discreet," The boar grunted as he straightened up. Warm water was now quickly filling a large sunken bathtub set in the corner of the room, steam billowed up and almost instantly fogged the single mirror that hung above an ordinary porcelain sink, beside which sat the toilet. Jacobson flipped the lid down and sat, kicking off his boots wile he regarded Zachary, who had dropped his clothes in a pile at his foot-paws. "I could nearly hear you down the hall. What where you doing in that room? I'm sure there are other, more private places in this house where you can do your business."

"Well..." He suddenly felt guilty knowing he had spied on his father. Not because he felt it was wrong but because he had to admit to Jacobson what he was doing. "I was doing the thing with the eaves."

"Eavesdropping?" Jacobson asked as he unbuttoned his chefs coat, exposing his chest and belly, both thick with coarse brown fur. "Zachary. Oh whom might I ask?"

"M-My father." The pup replied, suddenly feeling guilty, but then quickly decided on hopping into the bath with one nimble leap. "There was a good reason though."

"But why would that make you have to do your business?" The boar questioned as he stood. Zachary watched intently as the boar undid the drawstring of his work pants before letting them slowly fall to his ankles with a few twists of his hips. Zachary had already seen him naked a few times too. It had become routine for them to take baths together. Jacobson had agreed to them on the premise that no 'funny business' happened.

Jacobson's sheath was barely visible, buried in a thick tangle of overgrown pubic fur, but his balls were nearly four times the size of Zachary's, they swung and swayed with every move the large boar made. When he finally crouched down and lifted a leg down into the water, Zachary had to resist the urge to reach up and grab hold of the massive orbs before him. Soon enough they were lost within the watery depths of the large bath, as was the pup's growing erection.

"Well, you see." Zachary spoke, unsure how to explain everything without sounding like it was made up, or another ploy to get Jacobson aroused. He had just about given up on that anyways. He simply tried to search for the right words, his eyes drifting from the fogged mirror to the waters that hid his boner to Jacobson with his arms propped up against the rim of the tub. Trying not to stare to hard at his nipples or hairy underarms, beaded with water, he simply decided on the straight and narrow, the truth, plain and simple. "My dad was fucking my uncle, I saw it through the vent, knot and all, deep inside him. I know it might not seem true but it's almost like he was hurting my uncle, but he liked it at the same time. Kinda like what happened to me a lot."

"That a serious accusation." Jacobson said sternly but Zachary noticed a worried look in his eye.

"It... It was my dad who left me with those guys," Zachary spoke not quite believing the words or where they came from, not wanting to believe it himself, despite the truth. He thought he would never tell anyone the those truths. He didn't even tell John and he felt bad for it. The truth in his words seemed to leave Jacobson speechless, mouth slightly agape. He was sure the boar probably thought this whole thing another ruse, normally it would have been, but Zachary couldn't hold it in any longer. His belly ached and it wasn't just from being hungry. "He gave me to the tiger, he gave me to the bear, then he just drove away, and I still don't really know why."

It felt strange to say, to finally admit, the guilt was heavy in his chest and along with the throb of his cock, the two sensations seemed to wage war inside his little body. There were tears in his eyes suddenly. At first he thought they were just beads of water, the same that dotted Jacobson's chest fur, but they seemed to pour from his ducts, letting loose all the things he should have been feeling up until this point and beyond. He had been numb, emotionally numb. He was still learning that feelings were normal and they needed to be felt but he didn't realize that until then, he hadn't been feeling anything. His sudden sob echoed out and above even the crash of the faucet.

Jacobson's strong hands slowly turned off the water before those hands were suddenly on Zachary, firm and real. Somewhere in the back of him mind something told him to flinch, to cower, to throw himself on Jacobson, to feel him, to fuck him, to be fucked. He only cried as those arms pulled him in. The room seemed to spin but the boar's embrace kept him from spinning away. It didn't even seem to bother him that Zachary's hard cock was now pressing into his hairy bellybutton.

"I'm going to save you, Zachary." Jacobson cooed. Never had the pup thought that such a big strong fur could have the softest, most reassuring voice ever. John had been his survivor once, and still was, but Zachary liked the thought of two or more saviors, heroes, real fathers. Jacobson's whole body radiated more heat than the water below, his words filled him with a simmering hope but his arms and chest against the pup's spoke more than any word he could have uttered. "I'll never let anyone hurt you for the rest of your life or as long as I can live."

Zachary could only cry, his arms limp, but in his brain; the world and all its disgusting glory seemed to rage, thoughts and memories conflicted, fought, dominated, submitted, roared. Outside of that surreal world within his head, all was silent, save for the occasional drip of the faucet and his muffled sobs against wet fur.

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John Miller checked his reflection in the mirror one last time. His face fur was brushed, his white shirt clean and crisp, his tie straight. Even his eyes looked rested and not as tired as they had been the day before. He felt better too and the half a pot of coffee he had consumed for breakfast had given him an extra rush of confidence. It was needed, to be sure. He had received a phone call shortly before bed the night before from an older gentleman who claimed to be employed by Zachary's father. His head had been abuzz ever since and it was a wonder he had slept at all. He still had about an hour before his meeting with the boar but he was antsy all the same and had gotten ready two hours early.

He shut off the light in this bathroom of his small apartment and treadled down the short hall to his tidy living room, his black dress shoes scuffing along the thick beige carpet. It was a modest living space, no where near as fancy as his father's house, but it had everything he needed or desired. The fourteen by twelve space held a single cozy maroon armchair and dark hardwood coffee table directly to the left of the front door. To the left of the hallway sat a sturdy raised shelf of equally dark wood that held a vintage record player and phonograph from the seventies that he had inherited from his father. Below, records lined the length of the long shelf, the old and fragile LPs protected by modern plastic sleeves. An old copy of Seven Steps to Heaven by Miles Davis sat beside the player, the disc spinning while the four foot floor speakers flooded the room with warm brass tones and jazzy piano parts.

The wall opposite his small kitchenette was covered by five bookcases that nearly touched the roof; littered with procedural guides, history tomes, works of fiction, art dictionaries and bibliographies, autobiographies and memoirs. His only prized and worldly possessions were his records and his books, aside from his job he hardly cared about anything else. Glancing down at his armchair he felt his insides drop. There, lying open on the armrest was a copy of Hawk Kawk Monthly. He frantically snatched up the dirty magazine, checking his watch with a pang of guilt only to feel silly when he realized he still had forty-five minutes before the boar should be arriving.

Taking a deep breath to regain his composure, John flipped back to where the pornographic literature had been opened too; two avians, a raven and a broad hawk stood naked, shoulder to shoulder, gazing into the others eyes. John's own eyes flowed over the page with the hawk, talking in the contours, soaking up the beautiful feathers, and nearly drooling over the thick piece of meet between his legs. The German Shepherd sighed, closing the magazine once again and walking it over to a drawer just below his phonograph where he stashed the magazine with the rest of the year's issues before closing it back up for safety.

He realized suddenly that he was quite hungry, having had nothing but coffee and paperwork for breakfast. He drifted towards his kitchenette; though just as nice as his father's, it was only about half the size and no where near as technologically advanced. The granite counter top of the dividing bar was littered with papers and manila folders that he had been pouring over all morning; cases involving the late Gregory Carson and his many, possible victims, and while it was somewhat tidier than it had been, he noticed a few papers had fallen to the floor. He set about reorganizing his work while microwaving a leftover casserole from two nights ago.

Originally, he had planned on meeting Jacobson at the same coffee shop he had met Rosa Carson, but thought against bringing too much attention to a case said to be officially closed since her brother's untimely, albeit deserved, death. However, he saw no harm in meeting the boar here, at his own home, since he had all of the paperwork and documentation he needed on his person anyway. His thoughts drifted back to his meeting with Rosa Carson and the bag of film he had no way to view. He almost dreaded it. His first thought was to return the tapes, un-watched, back to Rosa, but it had been difficult reaching the female bear since their last meeting.

John pulled the leftovers from the microwave. Stabbing into the dish with a plastic fork, he stared broodingly at the bag of tapes that sat beside his work space. He had only just brought them in from his car last night after his visit with his father. 'Screw it.'

With a mouthful of pasta casserole, he pulled over his laptop, opening the internet browser and typed 'amazon' into Google with a single paw. He plugged in the tape's model and make and quickly brought up a list of used camcorders for sale, the cheapest one being fifty-five dollars. He added it to the cart along with a power cord, placed the order with overnight shipping, then shut the computer back down. 'Hopefully it doesn't work, that way I just give the tapes back.'

He finished eating, washed the Pyrex dish, drying it and putting it away before turning back to his work. His eyes suddenly felt heavy with the fullness in his belly. He almost poured himself another cup of coffee when the record finished spinning with a final spout of notes and tunes. Crossing to the shelf, he flipped the LP to the B-side and pressed play. He almost pulled the issue of Hawk Kawk from the drawer again when a loud knocking made him jump in surprise. Glancing frantically at his watch his heart raced; he should have had more time, it was only a quarter till. Clearing his throat he straightened his already straight tie and patted down the fur between his ears, taking a few deeps breaths before opening the door, expecting to see a middle aged boar but instead found a tall, broad chested hawk.

"Jason?" John spoke, his own voice sounding rather small and distant, cracking a bit in the middle of the word. The off-duty medic stood in his doorway, filling it, having to slouch a bit to keep from standing higher than the frame. He wore a plain black zip-up hoodie over a white tee, light blue denim pants, form fitting to his strong legs, over tan work boots. There was a slight chill in the still air outside but the sun shone through his face feathers warmly, causing an angelic aura around the avian's beaked face.

"Hiya, John." The hawk replied less than formally, scratching the feathers on the back of his neck. "Sorry I just showed up unannounced. I didn't get a chance to talk to you yesterday after everything with Carson happened. After I filled out my report we had another call, and another. Long night, I actually haven't even slept yet."

John recounted the brief moment he had seen the hawk as they were wheeling Carson's dying body through the ER. By the time he had made his way through the sea of patients, nurses, doctors and worried family members, the paramedics had rushed off on another call while Gregory was transferred to a different unit before finally biting the dust. Leaving John somewhat at a loss, until the Clydesdale had given him that card and Jacobson had phoned him last night.

"Um, no, it's fine, um." John shuddered trying to gather words, still in mild shock over such a pleasant surprise.

"Can I come in?" Jason asked his beak curling into a hopeful smile.'Kill me now, universe. Gods, his smile.' John thought pleadingly. "Or is now a bad time?"

"No, I mean, yes, I, I'm just expecting someone else and I was just a little surprised to see you instead of them."

"Oh, I can come back if you want." Jason said. His smile faltering.

'No, no, no no no, please, no, stay.' His mind raced.

"No, it's alright." John said stepping back beckoning the hawk to enter with a rather nonchalant gesture of his paw. "It's just a lead, someone connected to the boy Zachary, the one we pulled out of Rolland McGregor's house."

"Ah, poor kid." Jason said as he broke the threshold of John's apartment. John couldn't help but take in a breath as he passed, breathing steady and deep; the clean and crisp scent of avian musk along with a masculine cologne that was thankfully subtle and not overbearing. John shut the door gently, turning around to find the hawk gazing about the small space. "I thought, with Carson dead, the case was closed."

"Well," John thought a second with his paws on his hips, hesitant to speak too much about it but reminded himself that this was Jason, a friend and likely confidant. "I believe there was more to it than what was on the surface. The gentleman coming is a worker employed by Zachary's father. He said he had some important information that he didn't even feel comfortable discussing over the phone.

"Are you sure its okay that I'm here?" Jason asked and John thought a moment pausing on his way to the kitchenette.

"Seeing as you were there the night he was rescued I couldn't see why not." John said then reconsidered, remembering how concerned the boar had been about confidentiality during the phone-call. "On second thought, he might be a little too perturbed by the thought of another furson being here. I did tell him this would be confidential."

"You have a bed I could take a nap in?" Jason asked placing his wings hands on the counter top glancing over the reports there. John tripped over his words a second, rather surprised by the suggestion._'Jason, sleeping in my bed?' "_I only need a few minutes to rest my eyes. I'm sure by the time you finish with your meeting I'd feel rested and he wont even know I'm here. Like I said, I just, um, I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

John just stood there a second, staring at the hawk with an expression of mild confusion. He knew he could keep his face blank in difficult situations, more or less anyways. It was a trick learned from years of police and detective work, but he knew his face didn't match his insides. A million possibilities roared through his head like thunder, most of them ridiculous, impossible; self made fantasies he reused to give any merit to. Jason's facial features seemed to hide the true purpose of his visit just as easily. His eyes looked tired, his beak, though smiling, quivered ever so slightly and if John was mistaken, he could have sworn he heard the tell-tale signs of desperation hidden behind forced pleasantness.

"Sure, I haven't made my bed yet, but my sheets are clean." John said and instantly longed for the moment where he could lay where Jason would soon lay. With his words Jason shoulders slouched a bit in relief but the smile that shone through his exhaustion was pure and genuine.

"I appreciate it, John, really." Jason said glancing down at the papers strewn across the counter top. "I was honestly prepared to drive home, but I pass by your apartments every day I go to work and back. And since our last date, heh, I-I mean hangout sesh, was interrupted, I thought, hey, why not stop by. I've actually tried to text you a few times the last couple of days."

"Really?" John asked, trying not to pay too much attention to the word 'date'. "I was at the prison the day before yesterday, there's never any service in there, and yesterday I was at my father's house before the call about Carson. He lives out on highway 29, never much reception out there. It might have been lost in cellphone limbo."

"Heh, maybe." Jason said, his eyes dropping down. John was thankful he had stashed away the picture he still had of Zachary. He wouldn't have been able to explain still having it and as fast as his heartbeat seemed to be racing it would have been agonizing to do so. With all the composure he could muster, stuffing years of sexual and sensual repression back down inside of himself, John turned towards the fridge.

"Do you want something to drink before you take a nap?" John said opening his stainless steal plated Frigidaire. "I'm afraid I only have water, almond milk, and Miller Highlife."

"One Miller please Mr. Miller." Jason spoke with a chuckle.

"Still my favorite." The Shepherd spoke as he cracked open a bottle for his hawk friend. Jason took the bottle gladly and drained half the bottle in one gulp. John opted for a bottle of water himself remembering the boar would be there any moment. It was a wonder he could focus on work with Jason being in the same room. He couldn't help but feel guilty. 'Since when did I become a school girl with a crush?'

"I'm still particular to Bud Light, though to be honest I've been slipping up and been having a Budweiser every night for the past month. Even the gym hasn't kept the belly off." Jason said with almost a laugh, his free wing patting his barrel of a gut that seemed much firmer than he suggested. John tried not to look too long even when the edge of his shirt and sweater rose up to reveal a patch of thick ruffled feathers above his belt. "Not to mention I got a prescription for Marijuana a while back. I have some with me if you wanna smoke later."

It was John's turn to laugh outright, grateful for the sudden comic relief.

"Old habits die hard huh?" the Shepherd mused.

"Honestly, its the only thing that motivates me to go to the gym after my shifts." Jason shrugged, gulping down the last of his beer. "Haven't been to the gym since the night of our little get-together. Lets see, where did we leave off?"

John gave the hawk a curious look as he took a sip of water, not sure what he meant.

"The other night at the bar." Jason spoke almost as if the single beer had given him a decent buzz. "If I recall correctly we were talking about dating your best friend."

John suppressed the urge to spit his mouth full of water by awkwardly swallowing and regarding Jason's curious grin with a rather perturbed one.

Before John could even open his mouth for words he knew wouldn't come even if he tried, three knocks at the front door seemed to imitate a nervous bark. John felt his ears lower and flick back up with a flick, not wanting to reveal just how shaken he was by the comment. He held up a finger as if to speak but Jason only downed the rest of his beer in one gulp.

"I'll just take that nap. You get the door and wake me when your meeting is over." Jason said standing hastily and tossing the empty beer bottle in the trashcan to his right. John's paws found themselves near his own neck, trying to straighten his tie again in nervous flesh memory. His eyes raced over his apartment before landing back on Jason who seemed to sway as he stood. "Beds in the back right? Thanks bud."

With that, John was left with the view of Jason's broad back as he made his way down the short hall to the darkness of his bedroom. It all seemed to happen so fast. Three more knocks prematurely shook him from his daydream and forced him back on the now, reality, the task at hand. He could feel his suddenly swollen sheath pressing against the inside of his white boxer briefs, an uncomfortable arousal, and only hoped Jacobson wouldn't notice the tent in his slacks or the guilt in his throat.

-End of part 12