FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I've been playing with this for... around a week? Apparently I can't really write short-short stories anymore, because I aim for around five to seven thousand words, and end up with significantly more.

Since someone will ( hopefully ) ask, yes, I intend for more of these two. I've already put together a fair portion of the next chapter in my head. If there are any problems with formatting, things I missed in editing, etc, I'll go back and fix it later on.

---

My home town was largely just as I remembered it; empty.

As the bus rumbled down main street it passed a number of buildings built long before I was born, many abandoned for as long as I could recall. The sidewalks were a lot like the town itself; old and broken, but with signs of new life sprouting up like grass between the cracks. I saw unfamiliar signs on old buildings, restaurants, pawn shops, thrift stores- but I'd seen no new buildings since passing the strip-malls and big box stores scattered across the outskirts, over by the interstate. Looking out the window, I was struck by the hazy feeling that everything was exactly the same, and completely different.

I scratched at chest, fingers jangling the dog-tags worn beneath my shirt. They one thing from my four years in the army that I'd chosen not to bury in my duffel. The bus was running about fifteen minutes late, no doubt due to the accident that had backed traffic up for miles. I thought about sending a message, but I wasn't even sure who was going to be there to pick me up. Would it be mom, dad, or...

No, _I decided with a sigh. _Probably not him.

What lucky few passengers had managed to fall asleep in their seats were jounced awake as the bus rolled across a pothole and lurched into the parking lot of what had once been a pet shop, its exterior painted with a greyed out mural of birds and tropical fish. The windows were all boarded up, the walls stained by water damage and graffiti. Just outside the bus window I saw a battered real estate sign that had been knocked over and forgotten near the road.

I stood even before we'd stopped, and saw that I was the only one getting off. _Surprise surprise. _The driver didn't even bother making the announcement. A few folks looked around, glanced out their windows and went back to sleep. I wondered if they'd be getting off at towns just like this one. It seemed like buses only went to places too small for planes or out of the way for trains, the forgotten corners of America, the places in between cities, letters illegible.

The door opened and I hauled myself up, muscles aching, the tips of my long black ears tapping the ceiling. It was a perpetual problem of rabbits across the world, well, us and giraffes. It felt like there wasn't a car or house in the world where my ears wouldn't be smacking into something. I exchanged a glance with the old pot-bellied terrier behind the wheel as I was stepping off, and he sighed, heaving up out of his seat and following after.

There was nobody waiting for me. I stopped for a second to stare at all the empty, broken asphalt, then turned around to take the brown-green duffel which the driver had fetched from the storage compartment. He adjusted his hat, looked around, then eyed the darkening sky. Clouds, thick and grey and threatening crowded in close to the ground and the air was wet with the smell of impending rain.

"I can wait a little while," he said, with some degree of begrudging kindness. "If you're expecting someone."

I looked at him- really looked at him for the first time, the short cut of his hair, the way he stood, where his hands rested, not quite on his hips, well clear of his pockets. He must have guessed where my mind was going, because he grinned a tired grin and gave me a nod.

"What branch were you in?" I asked. "Marines?"

He snorted and spit. "Navy. I wasn't stupid enough to be a marine, not smart enough to be a pilot, and too lazy to march- so I went with the navy. Recruiter told me I was making a smart decision, that I'd see the world."

I grinned a little. That pitch sounded familiar enough. "Yeah? Did you?"

"Was told I could put any three stations on my wish list. I put down San Francisco, Japan, and Guam. You know where they sent me?" His brow fell in, bristling with salt and pepper fur. "God-damn Michigan, Great Lakes Naval Base. Only fucking thing I saw was rust and snow." The terrier shook his head, then reached into his slacks and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one up for himself, and offered the pack to me. I'd been trying to quit for the past few months, but declining didn't feel right, and I could use one with the way the day was headed. I took one and his offer of a light with muttered thanks.

"See," I said, pausing to draw in a lungful of smoke. "I was told by other grunts that you never put down what you really want. You'll never get it. You put down that you want to stay in the US of A, they'll send your ass to the moon."

He grunted affirmation and we leaned back against the rumbling bus, breathing in diesel fumes and cheap cigarette smoke. The clouds above were staving off the summer heat, but the humidity was thick as creeping kudzu. The relatively cool metal of the bus's body felt good against my back, leeching away the heat through my t-shirt.

"Where'd you end up?"

I shrugged, my long rabbit ears swaying. "State-side, nothing special. I had a POG-ass MOS that had some jumped up title, but basically, all I did was screw around with computers. You?"

"I fixed things that idiots broke," he said. "Billions of dollars, biggest navy in the world, and I never had the tools or supplies to do anything right. With the way they run things, wouldn't surprise me if half the fleet was held together with duct tape and chicken wire." Thinking of some of the things I'd seen and the broke-ass barracks I'd bunked in, I believed it.

The bus driver checked his watch, then cursed and threw his cigarette on the ground, stomping it flat with his heel. "I'm sorry, son, but I can't stay any longer. That accident held us up too long. You need to make a phone call? Could let you use mine before I go."

I smiled and shook my head. "Appreciate it, but I've got a phone. I'll be fine. Thanks."

He turned as if to go, then stopped, and offered me his paw. We met each other's eyes and traded grips. His hand was like a well-worn catcher's mitt, his fingers and palms strong, seasoned from years of hard labor and rough roads. Despite his age, there was power in him still.

Maybe I could have matched his strength if I tightened my grip and turned the handshake into a challenge- but when two men respect each other, they don't play petty games.

They just shake.

"What's your name, son?"

I paused, almost answering with rank and last name. There was something about the timbre of his voice that made me think of mess halls and barracks, of the good NCOs I knew that commanded respect without asking. The best ones never had to.

"Daron, sir," I said.

He grinned, his teeth just a little yellow from years of too much coffee and too many cigarettes. "Scotty," he replied. I had a feeling it wasn't his real name, but it was the one he wore. It fit him well. "You take care now," he said, turning for the bus. "And don't do something stupid like re-enlist."

I shook my head, passing a paw through my blonde hair. It had cropped close to my head for four years, and was only just now long enough to ruffle, but still short enough that it bristled. It felt weird, almost alien. "I ain't even thinking about it."

"You will, kid, you will," he said. "When you start thinking about what you had, you might forget why you left." He turned, wagging his finger at me. "You're out. Stay out. Adios."

The door snapped shut behind him and I grabbed my bag, retreating from the side of the bus. Last thing I needed was to catch a long foot under one of them big tires. I ambled on over to the pet shop and leaned against the wall, watching the bus turn out and disappear down the road. My cigarette was gone before it was, and I threw it away, just as it began to rain.

It was late enough in the day that the lunch "rush" had passed, but too early for people to be heading home from work, or out to start second shifts. The streets were empty, quiet, and I just stood there as the storm gathered itself up and got going. Fat, heavy drops smacked into the ground, a pitter-patter that grew over minutes into a soft, sighing hiss. Sheltered as I was by the awning over the abandoned storefront, I just hung out and watched the world get wet.

I can't say why, but I wasn't in any particular hurry to head home. It wouldn't be a long walk from where I was, maybe a mile, maybe more. As a boot, I'd been run a long ways in a lot worse, driven through mud and rain so thick my ears got plastered to my neck.

A strange not-feeling hung over me, a familiar numbness, like a deja-vu that never stopped. Maybe I needed a minute all by myself to get used to being home again, to soak it all in. But looking around at the empty, dying town, I felt myself start wondering why I'd even come back at all.

I had time enough to finish one more cigarette and was pondering another when a collection of rust in the shape of a compact car came lurching into the parking lot, narrowly avoiding a pothole half-filled with rainwater. The headlights flickered as it came to a jerky stop not too far away, its four cylinder engine rough and raspy. A combination of faded beige paint and crusty patches of rust almost made it look as if it had a camo paint job.

Snatching my duffel off the cracked concrete, I stepped out into the rain and walked on over to the car in no particular hurry. I was a POG, sure, but even I'd spent enough time with army bullshit to get used to being in the wet. Between the rain and the fog which had crept up along the windshield, I couldn't see who was in the car- just the vague suggestion of black rabbit. I rapped on the driver's side window.

The glass came down at an angle that suggested it'd been knocked off-track at some point, rattling a whole three inches before it jammed. The rabbit in the car swore and I bent over, peering at him through the crack, seeing a pair of green eyes that matched my own half-hidden by a mop of curly blonde hair.

I hesitated, but only briefly. "Hey bro," I said, smiling.

He slumped back in his seat and turned his head to look at me, moving slowly, laboriously, as if just existing was some joke that had stopped being funny three years ago. His face was flat, but his eyes, though only half open, were bright, intelligent. "Hey," he said.

"Thought you said mom and dad bought you a car?"

He raised an eyebrow and rolled a palm off the wheel, gesturing at nothing. He was trying for sullen, but coming across as bored. "Yeah?"

"Where's the rest of it?"

He tried not to smile and almost succeeded, a ray of sunshine on his otherwise broody face. "Get in," he said, rolling his eyes. I walked around to the passenger side, small rocks and bits of asphalt crunching underfoot, and climbed in with my bag on my lap. Tall as I was ( I'm a hare over six feet ), it'd have been a tight fit before bootcamp. After my training and four years in the army, I felt like a snake in a can.

I looked at my brother, the tips of his ears, like mine, bent inward against the roof. He'd put on a little muscle since I'd left and gotten close to, if not as tall as I was. From the neck up, we looked much the same: green eyes bright as spring grass, sharp jaws, and well-defined cheek bones that stopped just shy of pretty. Only our hair was different. He still wore the same blue jeans and band shirts I remembered, but I couldn't place the one he was wearing now.

"Shouldn't you be wearing your uniform?"

I snorted. "Nah. Fuck wearing that anywhere you don't have to. Last thing I need is some officer hassling me over stupid rules that I don't need to follow anymore, or some guy thanking me for my service for... what? Wiping a porn virus off some butter bar's hard drive?"

Oddly enough, there was something in his face that seemed a little- disappointed, maybe? But it was just a flash. "Oh," he said, looking out through the windshield.

"I still have it," I said, grunting as I shifted and tried to settle into my too-small seat, tail dragging on the torn and taped faux leather. He kept looking out the window, at the rippling waterfall flowing down in front of us. It was really pouring now, rain drumming on the roof, wipers squealing, whining across the windshield. I wondered if the car was going to melt before we got home.

I reached under my shirt and pulled out my tags, letting them rattle out across my chest. He turned to look at them, and though he tried to look disinterested, I knew my brother enough to spot the curiosity in his eyes.

"You wanna look at them?" I asked.

His bottom lip pursed, and I fought down a grin. I already knew the answer, and it annoyed him that I'd guessed correctly. It always did.

"I guess," he said.

I bowed my head and drew them off, my ears bending forward as I pulled the chain over my head. "There you go, Donnie."

"Don," he corrected with a mild scowl, but he was distracted by the tags. He ran the chain through his fingers, turned the metal over in his hand and read the text stamped into the stainless steel. After a minute, maybe two, I stretched back in my seat and put my arms behind my head.

"Why don't you hold onto'm for now," I said. He glanced at me, then at the tags, maybe just a little surprised. I shrugged a little. "If I re-enlist, I can always take'm back."

"Are you going to?" Donnie asked, maybe just a little faster, more anxiously than he'd intended. If I hadn't spent a sizable portion of the last four years playing poker, it would have been hard to hide my surprise. As it was, I let the emotion slide down my face like water off a duck's back. I'd been home for five minutes, and he was already worried about me leaving?

I thought back to the bus driver's words, the promise that I'd miss it, in time. His reminder to remember why I left. I thought of the friends I'd made and left behind, nights spent drinking and doing things in the barracks one ought not to. I thought of how good it felt to make it through basic, how I'd grown stronger. Faster. Prouder.

Then I thought of all the stupid Mickey Mouse horseshit I'd been forced to deal with day after day, just to do my job. I thought of my commanding officer, who acted like he was combat arms, and ran us ragged like a bunch of grunts. Thought of being on lock-down because some drunk boot caught a DUI or popped a local in the jaw. Thought of constantly being treated like some idiot kid because the fuck-ups were too many and the paperwork too great to get rid of them.

Then I thought of how good it felt when they put those DD two-fourteens in my hand and I knew there was nothing more Uncle Sam could do.

"Nah," I said, and I meant it. But I was already starting to wonder how long it would be before the good memories I'd fight to remember would overtake the shitty ones I was trying to forget. Maybe that's why people re-up, I thought.

"Guess that means you get to keep'em."

Some of the sulky tension in his demeanor bled away as the put the tags on, tucking them under his collar. The shining beaded chain stood out against his black fur, clear as a silver pinstripe on a thunderhead. "Thanks," he muttered, looking away from me.

"Thanks for picking me up." I plucked at my rain-spotted shirt. "Would have been a hell of a walk." Donnie grinned just enough that I saw the tips of his teeth poke past his upper lip, then shrugged. With nothing left to say and nowhere to go, he pulled out and we headed for home.

The ride back was a short one, and I spent most of it looking out the window. The roads were a little worse than I remembered, but the larger ones had been painted with bike lanes that were mostly filled with parked cars. The non-chain supermarket around the corner from the house had closed up, along with half the stores on the adjoining strip of buildings. I couldn't place most of the new businesses there, but I did spot a drive-through pizza place.

"When did they put that in?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh. Year ago? It isn't bad. Sometimes mom picks one up when she gets off her shift at the Awful House." I wondered if she was cooking or serving, then decided not to ask.

"Dad still at the plant?"

"Yup," Donnie said. He went quiet as he parked, concentrating on his mirrors. There was plenty of room out in front of the house, but he hadn't put near enough time in behind the wheel to have parallel parking down to muscle memory.

"Cut the wheel a little more," I said. His brow furrowed slightly, but he did it, and put the car to a stop underneath the shade of an old oak tree. The engine went into a high idle then cut off when he turned the key, silent but for a soft pinging sound that was almost inaudible over the sound of the rain.

I looked at the house. The grass was cut but just a little too long to be neat, like a haircut that needed a trim, clumps of mulched green scattered here and there. Handfuls of concrete had crumbled off the face of the stoop and scattered at the foot of the steps where it met the walkway. Bushes near the front had been cut back by someone with too little time and too little skill, and patches of the pale-white siding were dingy with dirt or fungus or both.

It was the only thing so far that was just like I remembered.

Neither of us really wanted to step out into the downpour, so we just sat for a little while until it became apparent that it wasn't letting up, and both of us were waiting for the other to go first. I heaved myself out of the car with duffel in hand and slammed the door shut behind me, running up the concrete walkway to the door. Donnie was hot on my heels and I held the screen open for him as he fingered through his keys and got the lock open. It didn't take long, but we were both soaked from tip to toe by the time we were in.

The smell of the house struck me more than anything else, the sweet and savory smell of cooked carrots and casseroles, scented candles and pine cleaner. Fleeting glimpses of memories past flashed in my head, then faded, intangible except for the tingling feeling of nostalgia and better days gone by left in their wake.

"C'mon," Donnie said. I followed him automatically, looking, but not seeing, just letting my mind wander around a little. Not much had changed on the inside of the house. Same grey-brown carpet, same white walls, same junk disguised as decorations hung here and there. We went down a short hall together, and turned into a room, our room, the one we'd grown up in together.

"Holy shit," I said, tossing my duffel to the floor. "You kept the bunk beds."

"Why wouldn't I?" Donnie said, a touch of defensiveness to his tone.

"I just kind of figured that once I was gone, you'd want to... I dunno," I said, looking up and down and all around. The room was as messy as any young guy's place would be, floor dotted with discarded clothes, dresser and desk and every flat surface covered with soda bottles, pens, plastic crap and things that should have been put away and weren't. The same posters were on the walls; a bad TV show we used to watch together, bands we'd gotten into. New ones had been added, but the old ones still remained. I saw new strips of tape at the edges from where they'd been rehung over the years.

"Yeah, well. Dad never throws out anything, and they're still comfortable. Besides, I got top bunk now." He turned around and tore off his shirt on his way to the closet, revealing a wiry but strong back covered in short, black fur that shined when he moved. He was stronger than I'd guessed at first sight, his gains hidden by loose clothes that fit him poorly. Had he started working out, or had he just... grown up and out while I was gone?

"You going to change?" he asked, glancing back at me.

I casually lifted my head from his shoulders to his face. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess," I said. He kept looking at me, and I got the vague notion that he was... waiting for me to take off my shirt. I shook my head- it had been too long since I got laid if I was starting to wonder if my little brother was checking me out. I tore my wet t-shirt free of my jeans and pulled it off with haste, feeling my stomach and arms flex with the motion. It felt good to stretch after being packed in a bus for so long, and I threw my arms up and out as the shirt came off, groaning with pleasure. What I really needed was a good workout, but this was a start.

"Holy crap," Donnie said. "I thought you said you just worked with computers?"

I looked down, blinking at my brother. He was staring at me, his expression some weird combo of surprise, admiration, and jealousy. "I... do. Or, I mean I did."

"Bro, you're jacked."

Was I? It was really hard for me to tell, but maybe all the time spent on base had skewed my sense of what a normal person looked like. There's a lot more civilians on a military base than people think- families, contractors, whatever- and even most of the people in combat boots ain't combat troops. But there were a number of grunts around, mostly infantry, along with a whole lotta POGs that wanted to look the part when they wore their camies off-base.

As for me... well. It was never about swinging my dick around, or trying to keep up with the "real army" guys. I just liked the way my body felt after basic, all swole-up with confidence and power, and I just kept building on that. I wasn't about to bench a Bradley, but I could run for miles and had enough muscle packed onto my upper-body that I felt strong as an ox.

"Heh. I guess I am," I said, fanning my fingers and flexing one arm. "Does that make me a jacked-rabbit?"

Donnie rolled his eyes and mostly looked away, but kept me in the corner of his eye as we both started taking off our pants. We'd been apart for a long, long time, but you share a room with your brother ( or anyone else ) long enough, and you get real familiar. I didn't think anything of pushing my wet, clingy jeans to the floor, or the boxers underneath.

I caught Donnie's eye as I came up and he quickly looked away, fighting his own off. He was wearing some white briefs under- the kind designed to look trendy, but cheap enough that you could buy them at All-Mart. They clashed with his fur in a way that drew the eye right to them, or maybe it was his fluffy upturned leaf of a tail. They were cut provocatively and tight, so snug that I could see the taut, round cheeks of his ass and the shallow cleft that ran down between them. They were flecked with spots of grey where the rain had penetrated his denim, damp and nearly see-through, and I found myself angling my head and rubbernecking for a better view before I caught myself.

A pang of taboo guilt stabbed me in the gut and I shook myself. How long had it been? Three months? Four? I'd gotten tied up in too much bullshit as I was getting ready to get out, punished when I made it clear I was leaving, and I didn't want to risk fucking up my discharge by fraternizing- well. More than I already had. Getting caught once was enough.

Still, checking out my own brother's ass...

_"_Fuck I need to get laid," I muttered.

I thought I saw one of Donnie's ears twitch and he turned his head to look at me. It was dark and I couldn't see his face, but somehow, I got the impression he was... blushing?

"What'd you say?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said, kissing my teeth and looking away. Now I felt like I was, too, my face hot. I picked up my jeans, mostly as an excuse to look away, digging out my phone and wallet. The keys I left behind; all the locks they fit were miles away.

When I turned back to look at him, my brother was standing at my side, close enough that the dim light filtering in from the window threw his shadow across me. It was almost like looking at a mirror image of myself four years ago. He reached for me, paused, as if unsure about where to touch me, and settled his hand on my forearm.

"Thanks," he said, not quite meeting my eye.

"For what?" I asked, ignoring the faint buzzing energy that pooled in the skin beneath his touch. He was wearing something not as cheap and chemical-sweet as the average barracks boot wore, and it blended well with his natural smell. I wanted to turn my head to drink in more of it, but stopped myself, looking at my phone instead.

"For..." he sighed and dropped his hand away, taking a step back. "Nevermind."

I felt colder without him near to me, without his hand on me- or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe him stepping in like that had set my blood to a low-boil, had my imagination thinking up things it really ought not to. I felt a growing fire in the pit of my stomach, blood moving south, felt skin starting to stiffen as I quickly turned away.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me after I take a shower," I said, snatching a pair of underwear from the dresser and hurrying out of the room. Donnie didn't say anything. As I left, I wondered if it was because of what he didn't say, or something I did.

---

"This blows," I said, looking at myself in the mirror on the back of the door. I was stuffed into a pair of my old jeans, the second pair I'd struggled into. Try as I could, I couldn't even get the fly zipped up all the way. The tank top I'd pulled on didn't fit for crap, either. It clung to the hills and valleys of my chest and rode high, leaving my hard stomach sticking out along with the white band of my borrowed briefs.

The shower hadn't helped, either. I'd just enough time to wash and had just started playing with my dick when the hot water turned into an icy spray that even a polar bear couldn't jack it in.

"What-" Donnie swung the door open and stopped a few feet away, looking right at me. I leveled my eyes on him like a set of forty mike-mikes, expecting him to laugh, but he didn't. He just took it all in and paused with his eyes on my waist, squinting. "Are those mine?"

"These?" I asked, putting my thumb into brief's band. I gave it a little snap. "I guess? But the rest of this is mine. This is the second set of things I've tried on. Nothing fits anymore."

Donnie, who had put on some shorts and black pocket tee, moved into the room and studied me. "You look kinda like a hooker," he said, his tone amused and contemplative. "But... way too buff."

"Haha," I said, tearing off the shirt and the jeans as quickly as I could. I gave up on all my old clothes and turned to dig through my duffel while my brother stood behind me, watching. There wasn't a lot of non-issue clothing in there, nothing that would be comfortable in the hot, humid weather, leaving me with a choice of PT clothes or ACUs. Given the options, I went with the grey ARMY t-shirt and the matching black mesh shorts.

"One day out and you're already back in the clothes," my brother said.

I made a face. "I don't want to be."

"It looks... " I thought he was going to say good, but he took a breath and changed course. "Alright."

"I need actual clothes," I said with a sigh. I didn't want to go back out in the rain, I didn't have a car of my own, and I didn't really want to ask Donnie if I could borrow his. I'd left my beater back at the base, given it to an FNG that had more sense than most. It wouldn't have made the trip anyways.

"We could go hit the store," Donnie said, taking out his phone. "Mom doesn't get off for another four hours, and dad won't be home for longer than that."

My gut reaction was to say no. I'd just got back to town and he'd already done me a favor by picking me up. Besides, I was his big brother. I should have been taking care of him, not the other way around. But spending time with him would be nice, and I did need clothes...

"If you don't mind, I... guess. Thanks," I said.

He grinned and shrugged, ears following the sideways motion of his head. "Whatever. Just buy your own underwear, alright?"

It was a short ride across town, made longer by the heavy rain. It was really pouring now and though it had just crept into evening, it was already getting dark, the roads lit by headlights and the occasional rippling flash of lightning. We talked about everything along the way; mom's new job, dad's old one, bad movies and loud music. After a few false starts we fell right back into lockstep, just like I'd never left. By the time we got to the parking lot, I'd even gotten him to laugh once or twice.

"He just- fell, right off the rappel tower?" He laughed a little more, then stopped abruptly. "Wait, did he die?"

"No," I said. "He wasn't that high up when he fell, and it was really muddy. Idiot wanted to be real army real bad kicked out way too fucking far on the last twenty feet or so." I made a plunging motion with my fist. "Bam. Straight into mud, like a coyote off a cliff."

He started up laughing again, slapping the steering wheel. It was good to hear him laugh. "Were the instructors mad at him?"

"Nah," I said. "Well. Kind of. First they were afraid some boot got hurt on their watch, then they were mad at him for not listening- but, shit. It's the army. Doing something stupid to look tough and hooahing your own stupid ass into the infirmary is a badge of honor. They said he had "spirit", and probably four inches of mud up his crack."

The parking lot was desolate, all things considered. Maybe it was the time of day or the rain or both, but we had no trouble finding a spot pretty close to the door and we sprinted inside. Too many minutes later, I paid too much money for clothes I didn't really want at a store I didn't really like. My shirt got more looks than I felt comfortable with, but nobody "thanked" me, or asked me "If I was in the army or something". Still, I felt like a tool.

Drenched in rainwater for the second time that day, we ran to the car and when I grabbed for the door, I damn near ripped the handle right off the car.

"It's locked," Donnie said as he messed with his keys.

"Why would you lock this!" I yelled across the roof. I thought about kicking it, but decided against. With my luck, it'd jam shut.

"Not like I can just buy another one," he said, wrenching open his door.

I held my hands straight out and looked down at him through the rain-spattered passenger window. "Not like anyone's gonna steal it," I said.

He flipped me off as he leaned across the console and opened the door. I threw my bags into the backseat and crammed myself down into the compact, yanking the door shut. It was too hot to be cold, but just the right temp for the windows to fog over as we sat panting inside the cramped car.

Donnie turned the engine over and the vents started blowing out cold air. Dark and wet as it was, we weren't going anywhere until the windows cleared up. Whenever that was. I was starting to wonder if the car was even on when Donnie turned and looked at me, a strangely pensive look on his face.

"Thanks," he said.

"For the pretzel? You did give me a ride, least I could do was buy you a snack."

"No- I mean, yeah, for that, but," his bottom lip rose up a little, almost a frown. He looked away again. I let him gather himself, let him decide what he wanted to say or not say. Pressuring him wouldn't work; I knew from experience. If he didn't want to do something, really didn't want to do it, he wasn't going to, not even if not doing it fucked him over.

"Thanks for coming back," he mumbled out, still not looking at me.

I wasn't sure what to make of that. I sat, turning the words over in my head, playing my fingers against each other. Thanks for coming back? What the hell?

"Why wouldn't- Donnie." I reached across the car and caught him by the shoulder, pulling it until he turned toward me. I didn't have to pull very hard. Still, his eyes avoided mine. "I was always coming back. I never really wanted to leave."

"Yeah you did," he said, a touch of resentment in his words. "This town sucks."

"Yeah," I said.

"There's nothing to do, there's barely enough jobs, and that-" he waved his hand at the dark, hazy outline of the store looming just outside like some great and terrible brickwork bear fixing to come roaring down on us. "Was the last thing built in the past three years."

"Yeah," I said again. It was all true, and yet, somehow, we were one of the lucky ones, one of the "bigger" towns. There were places not too far away that weren't much more than a hole in the woods, a brief patch of sunlight and open air on the road before the canopies of old wood crept back in. Blink, and you'd miss them.

"So why'd you come back? Why wouldn't you go anywhere else?" he asked, sounding both curious and accusing.

I slouched back in my seat. It was my turn to shrug and brood a little. Why had I come back? It wasn't like I really loved the place where I grew up, or that I had a lot of friends here. In some ways, coming back into town felt like putting on my cleanest dirty shirt- I did it only because every other option was worse, and there was something welcoming about a familiar kinda stink.

But that wasn't the real reason. There were others. Truth be told, I didn't know what else to do with my life, I just knew that the army wasn't it. I didn't want to be here either, not really, but for the first time in four years I could do _anything _I wanted and I came running back home again. I guess that meant something.

Was it just because my family was here?

Was it because... Donnie, was here?

I swallowed. There was more truth to that last thought than I was really comfortable with, but... I was closer to my brother than anyone else I'd ever known. I'd dated _people for months, trying and failing to get anything close to the feeling I got just hanging out with him. That ease, that comfort, that sense of... _intimacy.

That word made me uneasy. It wasn't the kind of word you hung on your own little brother, but then again, you weren't supposed to be checking your brother out, either. I thought back to a few hours earlier, to him stripping, him squirming out of his jeans, the way his wet underwear stretched across his cute little bunny bubble butt...

What the fuck was wrong with me? I clenched my jaw, trying, as I had in the showers at basic, to think of anything but something, _someone, _that I wanted to touch, not allowing myself to admit for one second that I was thinking what I was thinking. Hormones were pumping into my blood and my pulse was picking up. The more I told myself not to think about it, the more I did. The more I reminded myself how _wrong _it was, the harder I got.

Had I always wanted him like that, always felt like that? Was it just... seeing him again after so long that made it all snap into place?

"I came back because..."

I saw his nose twitch, and he turned to look at me. There was something soft about his face, as warm and welcoming as a freshly dried blanket that just swallowed me up the second I met his eyes. They were a sparkling green, just like mine, bright as polished gems even in the dim car.

He touched the hand I held on his shoulder, folding his fingers over mine. "Whatever made you come back... I'm just glad you're here. I missed you, big bro."

"Missed you, too," I murmured. That buzzing sensation was back again, traveling up my fingers where he touched me and up into my forearm. I squeezed his shoulder, just as broad as mine, only lacking in muscle. _Little bro _didn't really seem like it fit anymore. He was eighteen years old, a man, or well on his way to becoming one.

Even thinking on it later, I still couldn't tell you which one of us moved first. We'd grown closer by degrees, our mouths subtly drawing together until we were breathing in each other's breath. My heart was suddenly all I could hear, drowning out even the roaring drumbeat of the rain battering the tiny car in a thousand different places. We were danger close, and I felt my chest tighten as if bracing for a gut punch I knew I couldn't dodge even if I wanted to.

A pressure built between us, around us, an intangible tension that grew by the second. I could smell his musk now, and I had no doubt he could smell my own. On some level, he wanted this just as much as I did. His lips parted just enough that I saw his teeth, saw his tongue ride up to the edge of his bottom lip, anticipating, ready. I mimicked him without thinking about it, canting my head to one side. He tilted his the opposite way, and a moment later, we came together in a curious but cautious first kiss, each of us fearing rejection, but finding elation. His lips were salty-sweet with butter from the pretzel I'd bought him, and I chased my tongue around them, wanting more of that taste- then his tongue was in my mouth, and mine in his, fingers squeezing my paw, my claws digging down into his shoulder.

It was wrong, it was stupid, and guilt washed over me like a summer downpour- but it couldn't put out the fire his lips touched off inside of me. We kissed until we were both breathless and came apart in a rush, falling back into our separate corners, gasping and wide-eyed like two boxers who'd been broken up by a round-end just as the fight really got going. I looked down and saw he was just as painfully hard as I was, his cock straining up and out against the front of his shorts. I made no attempts at hiding just where my eyes went, and neither did he.

The heat of our breathing had completely undone what little progress the defogger had made, painting the windows milky white. We might have been in the middle of a parking lot, but seeing outside was pretty much impossible. He must have had the same thought at about the same time, grinning a shy, but eager grin, his cheeks and ears flush. There were no words as he came crawling over the console and threw one leg across my lap, his arm winding around my neck.

God, it was tight. There was barely any room to do more than squirm as he ground down against me, my cock riding up his ass from below, his grinding against my stomach. What little movement we could manage was more torture than foreplay and we writhed together, biting at each other's necks like two snakes tangled up in a life or death struggle. Blonde bangs tickled at my nose and he groaned, low and needy, each time my teeth found just the right spot on his neck. I hit it again and again, intent on driving him as crazy as I felt. Emotion, raw and unfettered came pouring out from both of us as if a dam had cracked, then burst, and nothing would stop the wild flood that followed.

He tore at my shirt, but there wasn't enough room to do much other than lift it up around my toned stomach. That was enough for him, for now, his hand poring over bare, black fur and the hard flesh beneath. The pleased moan that filled my ears told me he liked what he felt. Without even thinking, I grabbed for his quad then ran my fingers up his leg until I had a handful of my little brother's ass. My God, I wanted more, wanted it now. All but growling, I yanked his shorts down on one side to _really _feel it, with nothing in the way. It filled my palm like a Georgia peach, perfectly plump and pliant, but there was a layer of ripe muscle that pushed back at my squeezing fingers and flexed when he clenched his legs.

"Wait a minute," he said, breaking free of our third kiss in as many minutes. I stared at him with eyes so hot and full of fire they could melt steel, and saw him swallow. He fumbled off to the side at something unseen, then there was a pop and the whole seat fell back, and us with it, the headrest jerking to a stop against the backseat. With him straddling my hips, my hands instinctively drew up around them, holding him steady as he bowed forward over my body and tore off his shirt. He was intent on doing the same to me, but before he could, I gathered my hands up around the waist of his shorts and briefs both, tugging them down around his thighs, his gorgeous pink dick springing out across my stomach.

His hands slowed, then stilled as I took him into my palm, not pumping, not squeezing, not yet. I just drew him up where I could get a good look at him, but even that much was enough to send him into a low tremble that carried up to his ears. My "little" brother had a cock every bit as big as mine, long, and with just enough girth to fill my hand- and maybe something else. God, he was so excited that he was dripping and drooling all over my shirt and fingers, leaving shining little trails of pre all over me.

"E-easy," he stuttered as I drew my fingers up around his crown, lifting his cock up so I could see the balls beneath. They were fat, black and plump as two plums, and if he was anything like me, I'd be able to drain them again and again.

"Why?" I asked, twisting my fingers back and fourth around him, teasing him with small, feather-light motions. "You getting ready to come already, little bro?" There was a chiding tone to my voice, but I felt just 'bout ready to pop myself. Every time I moved my hand, my brother's body came alive, rocking up into my touch and then back again, catching my rock-hard cock in the cleft of his ass and bearing down on it. I don't know if he was doing it on purpose or not, but fuck, it felt good, even with my shorts in the way.

Lust shoved my guilt aside and took command, ordering me into motion. I lifted one foot and planted it on the glove box, toes clenching at the cracked plastic. I got a good hold and pushed, heaving my hips and sending my brother straight into the ceiling. He conked his head but didn't miss a beat, raising one paw up to brace himself against it. The resistance made the next thrust all the sweeter, and we settled into a steady rhythm with him rolling forward, upward into my gripping palm and then back down again, catching my cock on the down-stroke.

Cum flowed freely between us, mine staining my borrowed briefs and shorts, his pouring out all over my hand, fingers, and shirt. I moaned as my brother's hot dick stabbed across my abs, scoring a hot, wet line right up my stomach. He was leaking freely now, and I could tell he was holding back, trying not to pop.

I'd like to say I had some kind of sense in my head, that I was holding back because I was still on the fence about it all, but that'd be a lie. The car, the fucking tiny car was the only thing that kept me in check. We didn't have the space to do much more and neither of us wanted to let the other go long enough to pull off more clothes than we already had. We'd come together like two raging storm winds caught up in a twister, pushing, driving each other to greater and greater heights of passion that would not let up until the storm had run its course.

Donnie's chest, though much lighter, trimmer than my own, was alive with a wild energy that arced from nerve to nerve and held every muscle captive, tight. He was sweating now, fuck, so was I, and the smell of our sweat combined with that of the pungent stench of sex.

"You need a bigger fucking car," I told him, cutting my hand down and around his hip to grab a handful of his ass. I sank my fingers into it, spurring him with my claws in time with the motion of our hips. He groaned, pleased by that pinch of pain. Just on sheer gut instinct, I drew my hand back and slapped his ass with authority, the sound of the impact ringing through the car. His head went back in an instant, a haughty, breathy moan erupting from his lips as his cock leapt and spat streams of sticky white around my navel.

"S-stop," he said, swallowing down a second moan as my paw slammed into his ass again. "I'm gonna, I'm gonna-!"

"Come for me, little bro," I begged him, looking down the length of my body at the throbbing cock surging through my grasping fingers. Thick strands of translucent white coated the outside of my thumb and forefinger, the whole inside of my palm, making it soft, slick and warm. I beat him raw with it, using the skin of his cock like a sleeve, pulling it up around the bottom of his mushroom with each stroke. He was close, so close I could feel his whole shaft trembling with the need to release and-

"Holy fuck," I breathed out as a hot burst splashed across my cheek, then another, caught off-guard by the energy of his climax; but the rest was yet to come. Still more of it gushed out, the lion's share of my little brother's load emptying out onto my chest and tummy, painting both in liquid heat. The sheer quantity of it was impressive, even by rabbit standards, and I just laid there, stunned but still pumping, wringing out everything he had to give.

We both sat panting in the brief lull that followed, marveling at the mess he'd made of me. I caught his eye and held it as I slid my tongue out and scooped some of his cum off my cheek, tasting, swallowing. Not to be outdone, or maybe just following my lead, he grabbed my hand by the wrist and brought it up to his mouth, holding me captive as he sucked and slurped it clean.

"You made a big mess, big bro," he whispered, words casting hot little breaths into the bowl of my palm. He kissed it, then put it aside, planting his paws on my pecs. Inch by inch he lowered himself to my lips and we kissed, slower this time, the tangy taste of him shared between us.

"Couldn't have done it with you," I whispered into his mouth, and he laughed a short, chuffing laugh.

He lifted himself up on one paw and fixed me with a look of simmering sexuality, his eyes lidded, his ears pulled back and mostly hidden. "I could think of a few more things you couldn't do without me..."

Our little bump and grind session had gotten him off, but left me hanging. I was still hard enough that I could have used my cock as an entrenching tool, and I knew right where I wanted to dig. If he was inviting me to do what I think he was- could I? Should I?

Either because I was hesitating, or 'cause he was sick of waiting, Donnie hiked his hips up and reached back behind him, grabbing at my shorts and the briefs beneath. He yanked one side down enough to bare my pelvis, knuckles dragging on bare black fur. Goddamn, he was so painfully close to what I _really _wanted him to touch. I groaned and grit my teeth, mindful of the fact that there were other people somewhere out there, just beyond the foggy windows.

"It might be a little tight..." he said as he began tearing down the other side, meeting my eyes with a fierce, buck-toothed grin. My cock was caught up in my shorts and the elastic of the briefs, and every time he pulled, my hips jumped. I wasn't sure if he was talking about his ass or the car, but fuck, I didn't care. I was too busy trying not to leap out of my seat, my shaking hands gripping at the ripped plastic.

His tongue caught the bottom edge of his teeth and bowed up against it, his green eyes glowing hot as machine gun barrels. The heat from them seemed to channel right into my body, my boiling blood threatening to explode. My fingers rolled, drumming, clenching at the seat- fuck. If he knew how close I was to dragging him out of the car by his ears and fucking him on the hood of his own car, he wouldn't be teasing me so much.

Or maybe he would.

He caught my cock in his paw and those emerald eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed again, his expression impish as he pistoned my pulsing shaft through his fingers. "You got something you wanna show me, bro?" His tongue drew circles on the corner of one tooth as he looked over his shoulder and peeled back my shorts, and I groaned so deep and low it made my chest and throat buzz as my cock came rushing out.

We both moaned together as his paw caught my rising shaft and steered it into the crack of his ass, the drooling head leaving a messy trail leading right up to his fluffy tail. His hips reared back, and mine rose in response, driving it through his ass cheeks and into the downy fur under that tail, the silky, airy feel of it teasing my tip, a stark contrast to the gripping heat clamping down around my meat.

Whatever guilt or hesitation left inside me was erased in a white hot flash, replaced by a need as real as the instinct to breathe.

"I'm gonna fuck you, Donnie," I hissed.

He shivered, anticipating, and maybe just a little afraid of what was coming next. I reached around and took hold of myself with my wet paw, fur soaked through with spit and come, and began pumping, my strokes coaxing more gooey heat from the tip of my already slick dick. It wouldn't be near as good as lube, and I hadn't taken any time to stretch him out before hand- but I didn't really care, and I don't think he did, either.

Long legs squeezed my hips as if urging me to go on, his face a mixture of too many emotions too great to pick out any single one. I was going to do it, I'm really gonna do this. Our breathing fell in sync as we began to wriggle and tilt our hips, trying to get everything lined up just right. If we'd had more space I'd have already been inside him one way or the other, but the fucking car barely had space enough to sit, let alone screw.

Donnie groaned. "Just a little- ah!"

We crooned through our teeth, grimacing, trying to keep quiet as my cock scraped across his taut little ring. A near hit. He sat up a little straighter,then, his legs shaking, drawing tight around mine as he rose and prepared to come back down again.

The soft clap of a closing car door in the next space brought both our eyes to the window. "Is that a car?" he whispered. I squinted at the fog-frosted window and caught the glint of colored glass up on the roof, red and-

I grabbed my brother by the dogtags and hauled him down across my chest, putting him nose to nose with me. A large, imposing blur floated up to the window, then stopped. Both of us went dead silent as I wrapped my arms around him and shrank into the lee between the window and the seat.

"Cops," I whispered, low enough that it almost sounded like a cough.

"For us?" he whispered back, daring to take a glance at whoever was just outside.

I guessed not; if they were here for us, they'd have been beating at the misty window by now. Gritting my teeth, I shook my head at Donnie and sighed, trying not to think of how close I'd gotten to sinking my cock straight into him. It struck me then how fucked up it was, thinking of my own brother like any other piece of ass I wanted spread around my dick; but my blood was up, and fighting down that raging lust, holding myself still and silent- it was nothing short of agony.

Maybe my brother could tell just how worked up I was, or maybe he was just braver, kinkier than I gave him credit for. With a cop outside our window, he raised both hands and held my head in his paws, palms pressing in around the hard contour of my jaw. He met my eyes with a subdued, but sultry kinda look that could have melted butter, then drew me into his mouth, tongue to tongue. With our mouths locked together like two magnets and he began moving his hips in smooth, furtive motions, hot-dogging my cock straight up through his clenching ass cheeks.

I struggled to keep silent as the pressure began building up throughout my body all over again, my fur standing on end. I clenched fistfuls of his pelt and fought down a moan- was the shape still outside the window, or had he moved on? I'd lost track mid-kiss. The fog, which had held for so long, was now beginning to fade around the edges, finally overcome by the tiny car's heater. The hazy golden glow of parking lot lights hit the beads of water on the window and made it shine, framing my brother's face.

Like a halo, I thought, struck in that moment by the beauty of his flush, handsome good looks. I wondered what I'd done to deserve this, him, what moment it was that led us to this.

My cock leapt and energy flashed from my stomach to my chest, making my body bow and bounce up in the squeaky seat. It wasn't my climax, but it was real fucking close. I had seconds, if that, and I reached down and grabbed my little brother's ass with both hands, crushing it around my driving shaft. I must have dug my claws in deep, because he broke the kiss to cry out into the hollow of my neck, his legs seizing up around my hips. As soon as those trembling walls of muscle came closing in, clutching at my cock, it was all over.

The car might have been sitting still, but to my eyes, the roof was spinning like a top as the first hot rush of cum came streaming out of me. I ground my teeth together so hard I heard the pop and strain even over my brother's surprised but delighted gasps and the blood pulsing in my ears. I came and I came, bucking hard enough to shake us both, and probably the whole damned car. His tail caught most of it and cum came oozing back down across my cock and fingers, but some slipped past and landed in a gooey mess on his lower back.

We fell together in a heap of hormones and sweat, gasping for breath and covered in musky strands of cum. The cabin smelled of sex and rabbits and young men with more balls than brains, and I drank it in like a drug, snatching messy kisses from my little brother's open, panting mouth.

At about the same time, we both realized the windows had become practically see-through, and scrambled to pull on our clothes. Moving quickly, he bounced back into his seat and I raised mine into position. It only took two tries before the latch caught and it stayed erect. We both looked at the cop car in the space across, then turned and saw a bored, uniformed doberman leading a young, pissed fox to the car in cuffs.

My brother and I looked at each other. His nose was bright pink from all the blood that had rushed into his face, and I guess mine was, too. It felt like it was glowing. I looked away, embarrassment rushing into the emptiness left behind by passion's passing.

"Daron," he said, a bit of hesitance to his voice.

I wanted to talk to him, but something tight in my chest kept all the words stopped-up inside. Jesus, I'd just all but fucked my own brother in a All-Mart parking lot.

I'd become my own country music song.

He started to say something else, but a short, weird little tune cut him off, like something from one of the games we'd used to play back when cartridges were a thing I put into consoles, not rifles.

"What is that?" I asked, trying to scratch my itching nostalgia.

"My phone," he said, fumbling around in his pockets for it. He came up short, then exchanged a sheepish glance with me, spotting it on the floor at my feet. I tried not to shiver as he put his paw on my thigh and leaned over to pick it up, unlocking it, checking the screen, then putting it to his ear.

"Who was it?" I asked.

He fumbled at the phone, then clicked it off and threw it into the console, meeting me with a panicked grimace. "Mom," he said. "She got off early," he said, turning to stare blankly out the window. He let out a mirthless little laugh.

"She'll be home in ten minutes."