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"Discrete Details: Part 5"

By S. K. Gwinne

August 2019

Dennis thought he would get up early and leave Diana to explore the house on her own, maybe give her some time alone. But he descended the stairs tucking his shirt into his slacks and trying to fix his tie, only to find her sitting at the breakfast bar with a steaming cup of coffee and her computer. She wore a nightgown that came up to the apex of her thigh, but somehow managed to cover everything. She turned to regard him with sleepy eyes.

"Good morning" she said.

"Good morning," he replied, tightening his tie and walking into the kitchen. "You're up awfully early."

"I'm a law student," she said matter-of-factly, "or was. We don't really sleep."

"Is there..."

"More coffee?" she asked, gesturing with her mug carefully. "I always make too much, so yeah."

He grinned. She had always made too much. He was glad to see that some things never changed. He poured himself a cup and decided to drink it black, then took up a cautious seat beside his sister. The sun was just rising outside his windows, and the neighborhood remained cloaked in night. He pursed his lips after taking a sip and made real eye-contact for the first time that morning.

"I'm sorry about last night," she said quickly, but it didn't sound rushed. She raised a hand before he could interject. "I shouldn't have assumed that we could just... go back to the way things were after so long. I should have asked."

"Well..." he began painfully, "if we're being perfectly honest, I really want to."

"But you're with someone," she completed.

"Yeah," he provided with a nod. "We said we wouldn't be with anyone else, and... well, he's younger than me and very sensitive. I'm more than willing to address him about it, but I need to give him that courtesy first. Does that make sense?"

"It does," she said, voice husky with sleep... or after having spent some time crying.

"I'm so sorry, Diana," he said. "I can't tell you how glad I am you're here."

"I was going to ask you if you thought... I should leave," she began.

"That would crush me," Dennis interjected, placing his hand on hers, over the computer mouse. "Please don't. Please stay, and stay as long as you like. I'd rather you just didn't look for a place at all and lived here."

"You want me here that much, huh?" she asked.

"I could really use help with the mortgage," he chuckled playfully.

She laughed briefly, and he could tell it had worked to lift her spirits at least a little bit. He caressed her fingers with his thumb affectionately, and she watched him do it. Her brow turned down then, and he saw her start to cry.

"Oh, no," he moaned, "please don't cry, Diana."

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "It's just... I stupidly built this fantasy in my head that I was going to come back and be with you, and it was going to be just us. I had this scene playing out where I would sneak into your room one night, like the first time, and start it all up again. I thought we could finally be free to be together, without Mom and Dad trying to exclude you or watch you all the time, without school and all the stupidity."

"Diana..." Dennis sighed sadly.

"Again," she said, collecting herself and wiping her eyes, "I made a stupid assumption, and I shouldn't have."

"I'm not saying we can't eventually be together," Dennis said then. "You know I have to talk to my boyfriend about it. I really want to be with you, in more ways than just sexually, but... well, how far can it go? We're obviously never going to get married and we certainly can't have kids together. It's never going to be anything more than... well, whatever it was."

"Love," Diana said, and quickly continued before Dennis could argue. "You'll always be my brother, and I'll always love you like my brother, but we also have something so special that other people don't have. I would never suggest we try and start a family together, I know that would be... wrong, in so many ways. But, Dennis, I do love you, and even though there's probably not a good word for what we have, I want it to continue."

"I love you, too, Diana," Dennis replied quietly, ears drooped in sympathy, "but I think we have to be prepared that either now or in the very near future, there's going to come a time when we won't have that option anyway."

"I don't believe that," she argued, shaking her head.

"What husband of yours is ever going to share you with your brother?" Dennis asked.

"Then I'll stay single," Diana said hotly and rolled her eyes. "I don't have to get married."

"And I'll have to carefully tell every boyfriend I ever have that, if we're going to be boyfriends, he has to let me have sex with my sister?"

He watched her clam up and shake her head. He could see the disappointment and sadness on her face. He wished he could dispel it, make her happy, but he didn't see any future in which they could have continued like they were in high-school anyway. It was doomed to be temporary no matter how they rolled the dice.

"I'm not trying to be mean," he continued, but Diana gently withdrew her hand from under his. He watched her stand and cross her arms, but the look she gave him wasn't furious or angry... it looked like pity.

"I know, Dennis," she said. She took a step forward, leaned over and kissed his forehead, then turned on her heel and walked upstairs.

Dennis sighed deeply and scratched his muzzle. He didn't know what to do for her, but he knew the least he could do was talk to Wes. Their next conversation was bound to be burdensome and difficult, but he knew he had to do it.

He gabbed his keys and wallet off the counter, collected his briefcase, and stole one last glance toward the living room before walking for the back door and heading to work.

* * *

Wes waited in the hall. He knew Patrick's patterns, and even though the Lupine boy was a year older than him and in different classes, he wouldn't be difficult to find. He was determined to confront Patrick and not let a long period of silence and misunderstanding force a wedge between them after seven years of friendship. He needed Patrick, maybe more than Patrick needed him.

He had been waiting by the door for more than thirty minutes, but busied himself on his phone, shuffling through his music playlist disinterestedly. Anything to pass the time.

"Hey."

Wes jumped and almost dropped his phone, fumbling awkwardly to catch it before it fell. He turned to his right with wide eyes and saw Patrick standing by passively.

"Jesus, Pat," Wes swore, "where the hell did you come from?"

"Can we talk?" Patrick asked, ignoring Wes' question. "Please."

Wes slid his phone into his pocket and patted himself down, willing his fluttering heart to calm down. He then nodded and licked his lips nervously.

"Yeah, I'd like that," he began, but before he could go any further Patrick walked past him and opened the door. When Wes didn't immediately follow, the tall, Lupine boy stopped and looked over his shoulder, then gestured outside with his head. Wes hurriedly shouldered his backpack and followed his friend outside.

Patrick took him on an unusual trip past the tennis courts and away from the parking lot. They made it to the treeline, through which they could barely make out the track field. It was quiet and cool, shaded by the tree canopy, and most importantly it was private. Wes waited patiently for Patrick to drop his backpack, turn slowly and muster the courage to speak.

"I'm sorry for yesterday," the wolf boy offered. "I was out of line."

"No, you weren't," Wes allowed, shaking his head. "I should have told you. I can see how that would seem like a betrayal."

"That's not why I was upset," Patrick corrected, fixing Wes with his usual intense stare, piercing him with those shocking, yellow eyes. Wes blinked uncertainly and shifted to his other foot.

"Uh... okay," Wes mumbled. "What's, uh... what made you so upset then?"

The Lupine boy opened his mouth and closed it again, looking away in shame. Wes tried to imagine what was going on, but couldn't have prepared himself.

"I've... had a crush on you since we were ten," Patrick answered. His face contorted with emotion and tears began to fall as Wes' mouth fell open. "I didn't... I thought you were straight, I never said anything because I was afraid it would end our friendship." He choked around sobs and kicked angrily at a pile of debris on the ground. "Shit."

"Pat..." Wes whispered, reeling from the news, "are you serious? You're gay, too?"

"Man, I don't know," Patrick cried, and Wes could sense his immense frustration. "I don't know. I like chicks, but I also really like you, Wes." He turned red, puffy, wet eyes toward his Pantherine friend, an expression of profound grief upon his features. "I've had to keep this inside, even though I'm with you almost every day. I've been, like... falling in love with you or something for years, and I just thought I would have to swallow it and pretend like it wasn't a problem. But all this time I could have had that, I could have been with you." Patrick wiped the snot and tears from his face and delivered the most exposed and vulnerable expression Wes had ever seen... and it broke his heart. "Do you know what I mean, Wes? I've been thinking about it since yesterday. Now that you're out and I know it, it's too late 'cause you already have a... well, a boyfriend, I guess."

Wes could only stare on in surprise and barely-checked grief at the tragedy unrolling before him. How could it be that he and his best friend had been blind to the reality of each others' feelings and preferences? Had they not known each other at all?

He dropped his backpack and strode forward quickly, taking Patrick into his arms. The wolf boy wept on his shoulder, and Wes had to blink back his own tears. The closeness he felt now that their only and greatest secrets were no longer kept from each other shook him. He also realized that this was the first time he and Patrick had ever held each other in any kind of embrace... and he found it fulfilling.

"I'm so sorry, Pat," Wes offered painfully, "you should never have had to hide that."

"Well..." Patrick mumbled, pulling away and looking in Weston's eyes, "you either, Wes. I mean... this is such bullshit. All those years we've been hurting and afraid, and for what?"

"I know," Wes said quietly, clasping his hands behind Patrick's neck and leaning forward to touch their foreheads together. His nose grazed Patrick's nose, a familiar sensation, and without thinking he pressed his lips against his friend's.

Patrick was caught off-guard, but quickly embraced it, opening his mouth to Wes' tender invasion. Wes felt the awkward movements of his friend's unpracticed hands and the halting, trembling insecurity he felt in Patrick's lips. He felt Pat begin to melt into his embrace, their warm bellies pressed together. He could sense the wolf's tail wagging swiftly, and noticed the firm obstruction pressed against his pelvis.

Wes immediately thought of Dennis. He knew this was a betrayal, and a surge of guilt assaulted him. But this was Patrick, his oldest and best friend... surely he owed it to Patrick. Surely...

"Mm," Patrick mumbled, pulling away suddenly, a look of concern on his face, "I don't want this to stop, I guess, but... I remember you saying you had pretty strong feelings for... well, whoever you lost your virginity to..."

Wes sighed.

"Yeah, I..." Wes began, shaking his head in frustration. "We did say we wouldn't be with other people."

"Yeah..." Patrick mumbled sadly, "I was afraid of that. I just..." Patrick emphasized the fact that he was holding Wes in his arms and smiled excitedly, "I just got excited, because I've wanted to be this close to you for so long, and I am now... It's crushing and terrifying to think that I'm here and it's too late..."

Wes listened to Patrick trail off and felt the surge of desire in his heart. To have waited so long... His throat constricted, and his heart was torn. How could he deny Patrick this? He made up his mind and didn't hesitate, but instead dove in and kissed Patrick again. His friend didn't protest, but accepted his affection. He could tell Patrick was unsure of himself, unsure of... this. But there was trust and there was desire. He felt Patrick's volition, his surrender, and did as Dennis taught him, guiding his friend.

"Is this okay?" Patrick asked uncertainly when Wes moved to kissing his friend's neck and collar. "I mean, uh... this isn't weird?"

"Not for me," Wes assured, lifting the wolf's T-shirt so he could place his hands on Patrick's sides, touching his fur and flesh directly. "Are you uncomfortable?"

"Uh..." Patrick whispered, obviously struggling with some inner dialogue. "I just... maybe we can go somewhere more private?"

"The locker room?" Wes joked, touching his nose to Patrick's.

"You're fuckin' hilarious," his Lupine friend retorted sarcastically.

"We could go to your place," Wes offered casually, "it's close."

"And try to do anything with my brothers and sisters around?" Patrick suggested obviously, a mocking expression on his face. "Get real. We have to go to your place."

"I'll drive," Wes stated, releasing Patrick and grabbing his backpack. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching and started for the treeline.

"Hey, wait," Patrick stalled, and Wes stopped and turned. The wolf shuffled uncertainly, looking down and away. "I just... I want this, or... I think I do... I'm just not sure what all I'm ready for, if... if you know what I mean."

"Well..." Wes began, but Patrick interjected, walking forward to join him.

"It's not that I don't want this, Wes," he continued, adjusting his shoulder-straps absently. "The thing is, I don't know if I'm _gay-_gay, just... maybe just gay for you." The wolf boy blushed and looked away.

"No need to be embarrassed," Wes suggested. "However you are, that's fine with me."

"I'm just saying I don't know if I can go all the way with you, even though I feel this way," Pat explained, shrugging. "I'm sorry if that's disappointing."

"Pat," Wes replied, stepping forward and placing a hand on his friend's neck affectionately, "there's nothing wrong with being honest about it. You don't have to do anything you don't want to, and I would be a bad friend if I expected you to do something you weren't ready for."

"I just..." Patrick offered slowly, "want to be with you. Is it strange that I think I'm in love with you even though I'm... well, confused about what I want?"

"I'm not an expert," Wes answered with a slow head-shake, "I just know that the guy who helped me figure all this out did it by being sensitive to... uh, well, sensitive to me, and what I was feeling and stuff."

"Yeah," Patrick nodded, clearing his throat, "that sounds good."

"Do you wanna ride together?" Wes asked.

"I don't want you to have to drive me back to school for my truck," Patrick replied. "I'll follow you to your house."

When Patrick tried to pass Wes, the tiger took his arm to stop him and pulled his friend into another kiss. He watched Patrick's eyes close pleasantly, peacefully, and felt his desire for the Lupine boy rise again. They separated and Patrick smiled hopefully before turning and trotting off. Wes waited a while to avoid giving anyone who might be passing by any ideas, then ran the shortest way he knew of around and to the parking lot he had parked in. Once inside his car, he pulled the phone out of his pocket and attempted to dial Dennis.

He took his time driving home as the call went to voicemail. He smiled at the matter-of-fact tone in Dennis' recorded voice, then frowned and re-dialed.

"Come on, man," Wes grumbled. When it went to voicemail again he hung up and typed out a quick text at the red light: Call me when you can, need to talk about something, kind of urgent.

He shook his head in disappointment and frustration. Maybe if he spoke to Dennis about it he would understand. He didn't know much about relationships, but he felt that this was one of those situations where permission was easier to obtain than forgiveness. He tried calling one more time, but couldn't get through. When he got to the house, Patrick was waiting anxiously by his small, blue truck. The wolf didn't look toward him when he got out of his car, but stood by quietly.

"Hey," Wes called, and Patrick looked up. "Come on."

On the way across the front lawn to the door Wes checked his phone, but there were no messages or missed calls. He bit his lip hesitantly as he unlocked the door, then put it out of his mind. He had decided, and despite his guilt he felt it was the best thing to do... he felt it was the dutiful thing to do. He closed the door behind them and locked it, then placed his hand at Patrick's lower back in a comforting manner. The wolf turned his large-eyed, uncertain expression toward Wes, who smiled sympathetically.

"You know it's just me, right?" he asked. "I'm not any different than you remember me. We're still friends. And you don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

Patrick responded my stepping forward quickly, taking Wes' face in his hands and kissing him passionately. Wes, unprepared for the attack, stumbled backward and fell into the wall, knocking a picture frame from its nail and onto the carpeted floor. Patrick was aggressive and, while unskilled, his attempts were enough to excite Wes. The tiger boy returned his friend's affections in kind, only breaking away long enough to pull his shirt off. Patrick saw and did the same, tossing the article of clothing to his right and into the living room.

Wes fondled the wolf's strong chest and rigid abdomen, caressed and clutched his biceps, pulling him close and testing his flesh. To his surprise, it was Patrick who first explored below the waistline, unbuttoning the tiger's shorts and pulling the zipper open before snaking a hand insistently into the warm confines of his boxer briefs. Wes felt the prickly sensation of fingers grazing his soft skin and raised his eyebrows when Patrick pulled away suddenly, looking down in surprise.

"Holy shit, dude," Patrick mused aloud, eyes wide and disbelieving. Wes glanced down to his exposed, throbbing member, then met his friend's gaze. "Your... your boner, man, it's..."

"What?"

"Huge," Patrick finished. His hesitation and insecurity seemed mostly dispensed with, but there was certainly the looming question that came in so many forms, one being, Will that fit in me? Will it hurt?

"It's a curse," Wes chuckled jovially.

"The fuck it is," Patrick said softly, a worshipful and in-awe expression on his face as he dropped to his knees. "This is amazing."

Before Wes could suggest against doing anything an unskilled predator like himself might try, he felt his friend's long, soft, Lupine tongue trace the underside of his length from his sac to his tip. Wes placed his hands against the wall palm down and let Patrick continue, lapping slowly along his shaft, suckling the uppermost bulb of his glans, and gently touching and rolling his testicles.

He wanted to clarify that Patrick didn't have to do anything that made him uncomfortable, but felt under the circumstances that would do more to interrupt and annoy than help. He let the eager pup continue adoring and servicing his cock, rejecting the curious thoughts that begged to marvel at his previously hesitant friend's undeniably confident and unrepentant oral exploration of his genitals.

Wes suddenly gasped and jerked when he felt sharp points graze the top and bottom of his tender flesh, and wrapped a hand defensively around his shaft as Patrick backed away in surprise.

"What, uh..." Patrick mumbled quietly.

"Teeth," Wes informed, checking to ensure there was no bleeding. Naturally there wasn't, he was alright, but it had hurt and startled him nonetheless.

"Oh, I... sorry, man, I wasn't thinking," Patrick apologized. "They don't talk about that in porn."

"It's no problem," Wes assured, waving cool air onto his traumatized erection as Patrick got to his feet. "Why don't we go to my room?" Wes suggested. "My dad's probably gonna be home in a few hours anyway, but you never know with him."

"Oh, shit," Patrick mumbled, "I forgot about him."

"He wouldn't care that we were doing anything," Wes replied, lifting his shorts and holding them in place, then retrieving his shirt, "but he also wouldn't be too thrilled to see his son having sex in the foyer."

"Hmm," Patrick mumbled, retrieving his shirt from the living room and trotting after Wes to ascend the stairs. "I can see how that might be considered, uh... what's the word?"

"Inappropriate?" Wes asked, pushing his door all the way open and walking in. He let his shorts fall to the floor and gingerly pushed his boxer briefs to his ankles.

"That works," Patrick said quietly. Wes turned to see him hanging by the door and looking away awkwardly.

"What?" Wes asked, gesturing to his nudity. "You've seen me naked hundreds of times."

"It's different when you're about to get jiggy, bruh," Patrick answered with a shrug.

"Alright," Wes allowed taking the few steps necessary to stand directly in front of his friend. Patrick shifted, a combined air of uncertainty and hopefulness in his poise. Wes knew Patrick wanted to be encouraged, he could read it in his body language, he'd seen him do this numerous times in the last seven years. With gentle assertiveness, Wes unbuttoned his friend's shorts, curled his fingers over their waist and gathering the fabric with the elastic of his boxers, and pulled out and down.

Patrick's red, throbbing cock greeted him, long and appealing, with a partially-engorged knot and tapered tip. He knew it was pointless to tease, so he went right to it and closed his mouth around the stiff, Lupine organ. It tasted unusual to him, unlike dicks with foreskin--he chalked it up to the Lupine/Canine type, being confined to a sheath... it wasn't unpleasant anyway. He passed his lips over the knot and raised a hand along his friend's abdomen affectionately.

"Uh, wait, uh..." Patrick interrupted, gently pushing Wes away. The tiger gently retracted and licked his lips patiently. "I think I want to do the real thing."

Wes blinked and smiled, only slightly disappointed that he would have to confess that to Dennis.

"You sure?" Wes asked.

"Uh... yeah," Patrick answered, biting his lip in thought. "It's just, if you keep on like that my knot will get too big to... go inside."

"Oh," Wes exclaimed. He hadn't thought of that, but it made sense. "Well, I'm ready for you if you're ready."

"You're okay with me... being the dude?" Patrick asked hesitantly.

Wes laughed.

"I like it both ways," he explained, moving to the bed and leaning over the edge of his bed. He lifted his tail out of the way and swayed his hips suggestively, but only so. "It's good for you to start this way anyway."

"Not like that," Patrick said resolutely, and Wes glanced behind him in curiosity. His friend had a serious look on his face. "I want to look at you, at your eyes."

Wes turned back to face the wall and hesitated in thought, the gravity of Patrick's request hitting him. He recalled then that this wasn't just a booty-call or some request for casual sex. Patrick believed he might be in love... It occurred to Wes how this would undoubtedly complicate things. He might have made an error in judgment, thinking this would help his friend. But it was too late now. He couldn't deny Patrick at the threshold after having invited his affections.

Wes hopped onto the bed and gestured Patrick forward as he lay back. The Lupine boy leapt on top of him artfully, gracefully, and after a moment of considering pause, gently parted the tiger's legs and pushed his knees back. Wes blinked slowly, lustfully, and watched as Patrick coated his cock with more saliva and lowered himself. His mouth almost touched Wes', but he didn't kiss... Wes waited uncertainly until he felt the pointed end of his friend's penis find his opening and press inward.

The tiger winced at the penetration, but Patrick kept on. His narrower member found its path more easily than his or Dennis' could, and Wes had to grit his teeth against the pain as inch after inch slid into him without issue. He felt the bulb of flesh--Patrick's knot--press against him and begin to stretch his flesh.

"Slow down," Wes whispered, and Patrick hesitated for only a moment before renewing his penetration. "Pat, uh--ah!"

With sudden give he stretched wide enough for Patrick's squishy knot to pop in. The strong, Lupine boy rocked into him with surprising force and smacked against Wes' buttocks. His thrusts were short, rhythmic, and powerful, and Wes gritted his teeth against the savage taking. He hadn't expected this, but braced himself as Patrick continued. The knot swelled within him, as did Pat's Lupine member, filling his confines and stressing the capacity of his lower colon. Each brief draw backward pulled at his opening harshly, and each deep thrust hammered across his prostate. It was glorious and terrifying and altogether too much for him to handle. Tears began to stream from the outer corners of his eyes.

He looked up pathetically, cognizant of the undercurrent of sympathy overpowered by need in Patrick's eyes. Wes tried to hide his discomfort for Patrick's benefit, but he could see that Pat knew, and could do nothing to stop it. To help he closed his mouth on the wolf's shoulder and bit down gently... not enough to break skin, but enough to satisfy his need to close his jaws on something.

Wes' leaking erection was pressed between them, caught in the perfect friction of Patrick's lovemaking. The wolf's hard abdomen slid over his flesh, pulling back on his foreskin and grazing the temporarily exposed glans. The bludgeoning of his prostate aroused him to a point of begging for release. It surprised him when, without much crescendo, he ejaculated with such force that the first shot splattered his chin. He cried out in ecstasy and pain as a powerful orgasm shook him. He could feel the added pressure as his opening and lower colon constricted around the wolf's invading member, and as his climax found rhythm Patrick's began.

"Ahh!" the wolf cried sharply, rocking into him more slowly, punctuating each orgasmic pulse with a firm thrust, filling Wes with Lupine seed.

As their finishing release tapered to an end, Wes felt Patrick's face beside his own. His Lupine lover came to relax and rest gently on top of the tiger beneath him. Wes could feel the protest of throbbing in his tortured flesh, each spasm of orgasmic aftershock causing him to wince.

"I'm sorry," Patrick whispered into Wes' ear. "I couldn't... I couldn't stop."

"It's... okay," Wes allowed, relaxing his legs a little and letting his stomach muscles unbind. "That was... it was just a lot."

"Are you okay?" Patrick asked, raising himself on his arms. Wes placed his hands on his friend's forearms, noting the genuine look of concern.

"I'm not sure," Wes answered honestly, and watched Patrick's ears lay down and to the side sadly. "It was great though."

"I've never felt anything like it," Patrick announced soberly. "It's _nothing_like jerking off."

"Tell me about it," Wes muttered, then smiled as he wiped away the discreet streaks of tears on the sides of his face. "Anyway, you definitely get your C-Card... and it definitely stands for Cunt-Wrecker."

Patrick laughed sheepishly, and Wes winced when the slight jostling aggravated his already-sore ass. He watched Patrick lean back and look down at their coupling. His ears shot up with interest.

"We might have to stay like this for a while, bro," the Lupine boy asserted.

"Yeah," Wes agreed, frowning apprehensively, "I am not looking forward to you pulling that monster out of me."

Patrick brushed the inside of Wes' thigh slowly, soothingly, and looking his naked body up and down.

"Now I know," Pat mumbled cryptically.

"Know what?" Wes asked, positioning the pillow under his head.

Patrick looked up at him with an intense, heavy gaze, and Wes felt himself blush.

"That I'm in love with you," Patrick answered. Wes swallowed, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do. He blinked in surprise and felt the onset of fear. His friend placed gentle paws on his belly and leaned forward hopefully, a look of profound affection in his eyes. "I love you, Wes. I love you so much."

* * *

Anton couldn't turn away. He wanted to desperately, but what he saw so shocked him that he found himself staring. Why had they left the door open? Why...

He watched as Patrick braced against the foot-board of the bed with his feet and humped his son aggressively. He watched the mixture of pain and pleasure on his son's face. He watched the way their flesh met with each purposeful thrust, the way they held each other tightly, passionately. It wasn't the kind of lovemaking he was accustomed to, it was... powerful, demanding, savage... It had a primal quality to it, raw and real, unabridged by the cares of romantic engagement.

To his surprise, he found it... beautiful, artful. His blood pumped heartily at the sight, blood vessels opened in preparation, and he felt the telltale sensations of quickening.

Then he saw his son cry out in the throes of climax, and his senses returned to him. He carefully turned at the landing and quietly descended the stairs on his toes. Not a board betrayed him as he left, head swimming, breath faltering.

Why did I just stand there? he asked himself. What was I thinking?

He walked into the kitchen and placed his hand tentatively on the brown paper sack he'd brought home with burgers for their dinner.

Patrick, too? he thought, disbelieving. How long had it been like this? I had no idea... What was I thinking sending Wes to Dennis' house? Or... is this a new thing? Does he have two boyfriends...? Is that something in the rules of being gay, that you can more easily have multiple regular partners?

He opened the sack tentatively and looked down at the two hefty burgers inside, then paused again in thought. Images of his son's naked body flashed before his eyes, the way he looked while his friend took him. The same quickening threatened him again, and he frowned uncertainly.

I'm not...

"Shit," Anton sighed, shaking his head and gathering his thoughts, "this is ridiculous."

He halted when he heard the boys talking upstairs, and realized he was in no condition to look Wes in the eye. There were two burgers in the bag. He quickly grabbed a napkin and plucked the pen from his pants pocket, scribbling a note that these were for dinner, but that he had to leave to attend an emergency business meeting. He would be back late.

He quietly scooped his keys off the counter and into his hand, then tiptoed out the back door and into the late afternoon sunlight. The cooling, early Fall air felt good on his face and across his neck. He took a deep breath and paused to close his eyes, a hand on the driver-side door of his car. When his eyes closed he saw those images again. He couldn't shut them out, and what disturbed him most... he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"Snap out of it," Anton grumbled to himself as he slid into the driver's seat and turned on the engine. He wasn't really thinking about where he was driving or why, he just knew he wasn't ready to face his son after what he had seen.

Houses flew by until there weren't any more, then he was driving by commercial outlets and fast-food restaurants, then the distant city skyline next to an orange sunset, which he could see from the highway. After forty or so minutes on the road his phone rang. By habit, he answered without checking who it was.

"This is Anton," he said into the speaker.

"Hey, Dad."

"Oh, uh... hey, Wes," he managed, a little surprised. "What's up?"

"Are you on the road?"

"I-- uh, yes, I'm on my way to a remote site in the city. For my meeting."

"Bummer... I was hoping we could swim again tonight."

"Oh, yeah..." Anton began apologetically, trying to fight the uncharacteristically sexy mental images of his son swimming in the nude, dripping wet, breathing hard from exertion. "Uh... sorry, I do't think I'll be back in time tonight."

"Well, alright... there are two burgers here. Did you... bring the other one for Patrick?"

"Is Patrick over?" Anton asked, and winced at the unconvincingly loud tone of surprise he had attempted.

"You didn't know?" Wes asked.

"No, son, I got that second burger for me," Anton answered honestly, "but I didn't have time to eat it. I'll get something out, and you can give the second one to Pat if he wants it."

"Aright," Wes replied quietly. "Well, you know Patrick, he'll eat any kind of meat."

Jesus Christ...

"Yeah, uh... well, he's welcome to it," Anton managed. "Hey, listen, traffic's kinda thick, so I'd better let you go, son."

"Alright, Dad. Thanks for dinner. Talk to you later."

Anton was glad for the conversation to be over. He tried not to imagine whether or not Wes and Patrick would make it through dinner without mounting each other on the kitchen table.

"I'll clean it when I get home..." he mumbled to himself, deciding it was a wise precautionary action.

He had forgotten what it was like to be a young male, virile and active, aggressively seeking any sexual conquest he could find. Sophia had been a beautiful, young tigress in those days, and while she hadn't loved him, she had been attracted to him. She had reluctantly agreed to marry him when they found out she was pregnant, and he had been... overjoyed. But he had worked two jobs while she finished school, then long hours as an intern and eventually a business analyst. He had been gone long hours and came home to be with his young son while Sophia went out to be alone, or be with her friends. They didn't have time for sex, and before too long he stopped asking for it. Then she left anyway. He knew he would be lying if he said that broke his heart, but he did have feelings for her. Sometimes he still found himself thinking of her and wishing she had learned to love him as he had her. The only decent thing she had done was let him have primary custody of Wes.

But here he was, and his son was an adult, doing his own thing and making romantic relationships with people who reciprocated his feelings. It was inspiring, and despite his admittedly overbearing desire to be part of his son's life, it was probably time to give him space and let him me.

"I guess I need to start looking again," he whispered to himself. With a start, he looked up and realized he had driven to the bar he and Dennis always drank at. He almost scowled, but decided grabbing a drink might not be a bad idea. He shut off the car and went inside.

"Heey," Salt, the dark, equine bartender crooned when he entered. "Are you early to the party? It's Wednesday!"

"Evenin', Salt," Anton greeted, taking an unusual seat at the bar. "I found myself on this side of town with nothing better to do."

"And there's nothin' better," Salt agreed, throwing his hands wide, "am I right?"

Anton chuckled.

"Good enough, anyway," he replied. "What the tap special today?"

"The King Alfred," Salt answered, nodding at a departing patron, "a darker stout."

Anton wrinkled his nose.

"No thanks," he answered. "How about the usual? By the pint, on draft."

"Tab?" Salt asked, drawing him a large glass of the usual pale lager.

"Probably not," he answered with a sigh. "I'll just have one or two... or three."

"You're the boss," Salt said, setting the glass down on a cardboard coaster. "Let me know if you need anything else." And with that he was off to make other drinks and harass other guests.

Anton took the first long drink and closed his eyes gratefully, focusing on the smooth, chilled liquid as it poured down his throat. A good standby, reliable and pleasing.

"What do you have against stouts?"

Anton turned slowly to his left and found a pretty, young, Cervine female sitting several seats down. She was leaning over the bar around another patron to see him. Her expression was playful, but insistent, and he noted the half-empty stout in her delicate hand.

"I think they taste fine," he admitted with a casual nod, "but afterward I always feel like I ate a whole loaf of bread."

She laughed, and it was a pleasant laugh. The way her nose wrinkled under almond-shaped, brown eyes and uniquely freckled cheeks made her look very appealing.

"That's fair," she said, taking another drink from her glass, then lolling her head to the side in thought. "What is it you like about lagers?"

"Well..." he thought with a gentle sigh and a sincere smile, "I guess because I like the taste, but also because they go down easy."

"You can drink more that way," she mused, biting her lip and spinning the glass on the chipped, wooden counter-top. He liked her little quirks, the little things she did. Anton took another long drink and smacked his lips appreciatively, considering the amber liquid in his glass.

"You're right about that," he said, "but that's not the end-game."

"And what is?" she asked, taking another sip.

"The longer you can drink," he explained, "the longer you can have good conversations at the bar."

She smiled, almost laughing, and he could tell she appreciated his reasoning. He watched her glance left before hopping off her stool and sauntering around the patron between them to the seat next to him. He pulled the tall chair back so she could sit, and she rewarded him with an appreciative grin.

"Thanks," she said.

"Of course."

He took another drink and noticed her flag down the bartender. Salt strode over, slight paunch wrinkling his button-up shirt with each awkward step. She pointed at their glasses and raised a finger, and the equine male behind the counter nodded and got to work.

"So what good conversations are we going to have?" she asked, turning away from the bar so she could see his face more easily. "I'm only one in, but I'm pretty sure I can keep up."

"If I was boring I'd suggest the weather," he answered.

"I'm so glad you're not boring," she replied playfully.

"Me, too," Anton continued, downing the last of his glass as Salt brought refills for both of them. "Since I'm not, I'll start by saying you don't seem like you're from here."

"What gave it away?" she asked.

"I've been coming here for years," Anton answered, making a knowing face, "and I've never seen someone as beautiful as you..." He trailed off awkwardly. "Sorry."

"Don't be," she replied, "you were just getting to the good part."

Anton laughed uncertainly and looked down at his new glass before turning to the side to regard his bar companion.

"I don't... know what I'm doing, actually," he admitted. "I usually come here to talk with work buddies and forget about the work-week."

"Forgetting," she said, a more sober expression making its way into her features. She turned around and took a drink of her stout, then nodded. "I totally get that."

"Is that why you're here?" he asked.

"Forgetting is an ambitious goal," she stated. "I'm just trying to take the edge off of my disappointment."

"Hm."

He took another long drink of his lager and let the conversation fade. He had never been in here on a Wednesday. The games on TV were all different, not that he paid them all that much attention anyway. Football was his only real sport of interest, but he wasn't in the mood.

"What about you?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You're a regular according to our buddy behind the counter," she clarified, nodding at Salt, "but he expected you later this week. Regulars have routines and reasons, but you're here outside of that. So what's on your mind?"

Anton took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to figure out where to start. He didn't want to burden her with his loneliness, and he certainly wasn't going to peel back the layers on his awkward sexual confusion regarding his son.

"Just..." he began carefully, "a lot going on at home. No reason to be there... I guess I got claustrophobic and needed some air. I got in the car and drove, and this is where it took me."

"Wife troubles?" she asked, pink lips touching her glass.

"No, I've... been divorced for ten years now," he answered, tapping the side of his glass with a claw. "It's just me and my son, but he's pretty busy with school and friends and growing up, you know?"

She nodded and pursed her lips, but her eyes smiled at him.

"Sometimes home is more like a museum than a home," she offered.

"It sure can be," he agreed, "but I think the issue for me is... well, I've been working hard for so long now, and I spent every free moment with my son... I'm starting to realize I set myself up for failure."

"How's that?" she asked.

"I'm alone and I have no hobbies, no... real interests. I have time on my hands and all this momentum behind me and I don't know where to direct that energy."

"I just finished law school," she said, nodding sympathetically, "and I got used to working almost eighty hours a week or more. Now I have a job that only wants me for forty-two hours a week, and none of the work is really that hard. I can somewhat understand where you're coming from."

"Sounds like we need hobbies," Anton suggested, downing his second glass.

"Or friends," the Cervine girl corrected quietly, looking up at him.

Anton considered her words, but got hung up on her beautiful features. A part of him responded so profoundly to her... her character, her personality, her situation (what little he knew of it). He liked sitting and talking with her, but it was how she responded to him that had awakened something inside of him. He was attracted to her in fact, and not just as a convenient conversationalist.

"I think I could stay here and talk to you all night," he said to her, and she smiled appreciatively. "There's something about you that... I, uh... well, I'm just really enjoying your company."

"Well," she said, chuckling lightly, "I feel the same way, but..."

"But what?" he asked when she trailed off.

"Well, it's kind of loud in here," she explained, and bit her lip bashfully. "Maybe we can go somewhere quieter... somewhere more private."

Anton had to keep his mouth from falling open, and forced himself to smile in what he hoped was a gentlemanly manner. He flagged down Salt and plucked two twenties from his wallet.

"Thanks, pal," he told the bartender, hopping off his stool and offering the Cervine girl his arm. "Keep the change."

"I wasn't gonna give it to you," Salt said playfully, winking.

The girl took his arm and walked with him out to the parking lot, where he stopped and looked around.

"Uh... well, there's a couple places we could go," he said uncertainly, nervously. "There's a pretty nice Japanese restaurant just down the street, or..."

"How about there?"

He followed where she gestured and saw a decent hotel in the near distance. His heart pounded excitedly and he swallowed apprehensively.

"Are you absolutely sure?" he asked. She nodded and smiled up at him, clinging to his arm affectionately.

"I've had too much to drive," she explained, "and I don't have a car here anyway. I don't want our conversation to end, and... I'm willing to commit to a night to see if I want to have another one."

Anton smiled at her candor, her confidence. He had to admit, he felt the same way. This was a level of spontaneity he hadn't allowed himself in years, and part of him wanted to wilt at the thought of hoping for anything out of this. He didn't know if he had it in himself to take part in a one-night-stand at this point in his life, or engage in any kind of close friendship with a female without getting hopeful that something good might come of it. But then his worries blew away like a fine mist, and what came forth was resolution, surety. He knew he liked this girl. It didn't matter what happened next. It only mattered that he didn't shuffle into obscurity and let this spectacular moment pass him by.

"Well, then," he said, placing a hand gently on hers. "Allow me to drive."

He opened the passenger door of his car for her and made sure she got in, then made his way around to the driver side. When he had taken his seat and started the car he paused and regarded his passenger.

"My name is Anton, by the way," he said, "and it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss..."

She smiled sweetly and replied:

"Diana."