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So, no Attachment today. Sorry; trying not to burn myself out by forcing myself to work on projects I don't feel up to. I am going to try to keep publishing at least semi-regularly, though, so here's a thing! Wrote this last year, scrappy throwaway situation with some musing, as my works tend to have. Nothing too complex or insightful, but some nice character dynamics. And some cum.

---

"Arright, arright," Sanrek growled, though he was chuckling a bit as well. He took a big gulp of vodka, and Vortenthad marveled at the glisten of tiny droplets caught in his soft white throat fur. "Ya guys caught me. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up."

"Ajeez, man!" Brontok was cackling. "No need to be so bent out of shape about it! Like I get bein' embarrassed, but you don't gotta lie like that!" Meanwhile, Wudrar was still howling and mostly incoherent.

Vortenthad looked around at his drinking companions -- Sanrek the rabbit with his neat vodka, Brontok the warthog with his cheap beer (and gaggle of empty bottles), Wudrar the iguana with his whiskey. Vortenthad himself had tried one of the fancier craft beers, hadn't much liked it, and had switched to cider. He had the impression the other three were judging him for that, in their various ways, but as usual, it was probably just his imagination. All three were extensively tattooed, Sanrek the most, with waves and swirls in some sort of design that looked like one of the traditional rabbit patterns, not your run-of-the-mill tribal armband of ambiguous racial origin. Wudrar, for his part, seemed to like cryptic images featuring multiple grim reapers interacting with female figures, including one on his upper right arm (near Vortenthrad now) that looked at least R-rated, just from the position of Mr. Reaper's pelvis and the very convenient swirling of his robe around her splayed thighs. Brontok was the only one who had substantial word content in his, a lot of which was hard to read against his dark skin. They were intimidating, in the odd way that it made Vortenthad conscious of his own very clear, very much uninked fur. He couldn't help but notice them, eye them again and again, even after weeks.

"Yeah, well, you assholes were gonna make fun of me either way, might as well try to get out of some of it." The rabbit finished his drink. Fur-wise, he was doing the acid look, which Vortenthad had seen before; his fur was dyed a sick sort of green in the places where it might normally have been gray or brown, white in the areas where it would naturally be white, and fading to a weird sort of yellow at the edges which looked as though the dye was either washing out or spreading into the white area. Could be intentional, though, too. Hard to tell with looks like that. All Vortenthad knew was that it had shocked him the first time he saw it, but he'd kept glancing at it, with wide eyes, and found it appealed to him like sour candy. Somehow unpleasant and overwhelming, yet he relished it. He craved more of the unpleasant stimulus, more to make him grimace as he crammed it into his mouth, saliva dripping down his chin.

And like too much candy, it made him nauseous after a while. He looked down to his glass of cider once more, shivering.

"So wait, really? Not even once?" Wudrar was getting ahold of himself, finally, coughing a bit.

"Nah, man," Sanrek huffed. "Not even close, to be honest. Haven't even pulled it out ever."

"Heck, man, you wanna meet some girls who are down to clown I can hook you up!" The reptile burst into laughter again.

Sanrek rolled his eyes, licking his mouth. "I dun want your cast-offs, asshole, least of all the ones you've had your dick up. I doin' just fine for myself, thanks very much, an I'll let you guys know if I need help. Paw works just great, thanks again." He looked around again. "See, look now, Vort knows way too much more about me than he ever wanted to already."

The gray fox found himself chuckling, hoping his blush wasn't too fluorescent. "Nah, man, it's cool. You guys act like I'm uptight or something."

"You don't cuss," Sanrek began, "You don't smoke. You don't smoke tobacco even. You barely drink. And you're seriously the most talented drummer I ever heard. Can't blame us if we're a little afraid of scaring you off! We need you and you ain't got no reason to stick with us sauced layabouts."

Oh man, Sanrek. You do not gotta worry about that.

"Nah, you guys are cool," he reassured. "Trust me, if I didn't wanna be part of something like you guys, I wouldn't be part of it."

"You gotta give him a chance to loosen up, San!" Brontok encouraged, nudging the green rabbit in the shoulder with a fist. "We're dragging him out of his shell! I heard him say 'heck' earlier!"

Wudrar burst into laughter at that.

"How bout you, pretty boy?" the warthog grunted. "You gotten laid?"

"Ah, yeah," the fox replied, trying to forestall his embarrassment. "Uh, just once."

"Still counts," Brontok allowed with a grin. "Was she good?"

"Actually... kind of was a stupid decision," Vortenthad replied, unable to repress the urge to scratch his neck. "Bad choice. But yeah, it was good at the time, just in retrospect, maybe not so much."

"Ah, man, I hear that," Wudrar replied. "Dick's always leading me into chicks I ain't oughta have in my life. She get clingy?"

"More or less," Vortenthad huffed. "Wanted it to be a thing, and it wasn't, or whatever. Nice girl, deserved someone who wanted that. Not me."

"Sir Vorten-had the Noble," Sanrek intoned, sending Wudrar into giggles again. Vortenthad stuck his tongue out and gulped his cider, chest twanging. All of the three had their short nicknames -- Tok, Drar, and San -- but they'd shifted to 'Vort' almost immediately when they'd realized none of them could pronounce his name correctly. The 'th' really did a number on the locals; Vortenthad wasn't exactly surprised. He didn't mind the nickname, really, but he did wish people would try harder to learn the correct pronunciation, even if it was foreign.

"Hhhhheyguyzzz," the fast-talking sloth waiter said, skidding to a halt beside their booth. "Whatchagot? Nother vodka? Nother beer? Nother cider? Nother jack?"

"Ugh, better do water," Sanrek replied. "Clearly I'm too drunk, shit I'm sayin'."

The others seemed to agree that it was that time of night. There was some quiet mumbling, some huffing. Wudrar finished his whiskey. Sanrek sipped his water.

"What was her name?" Brontok asked suddenly.

Vortenthad took a moment to realize the warthog was speaking to him. "Hm? Yulia."

"Last name?"

"Barka. Why? You know her?"

Brontok chuckled. "Nah, just making sure you weren't pulling a Sanny on us."

The rabbit glowered and took an aggressive gulp of water. "Shut it. Can't blame me for trying."

After that, they gathered up their coats and made unsteadily for the door. "You ready for tomorrow, man?" Brontok asked, giving the fox a slap on the shoulder.

"Dunno about 'ready'," Vortenthad admitted. "But I feel okay about the set we're doing."

"You're killing it, man," the warthog said. "You pick shit up like instantly. Don't be afraid to improvise a bit, just like you do in practices, think our sound could use some of that. Just have fun with it, and I'll be happy. We'll all be happy."

"Preach," Wudrar offered.

"You got this, man," Sanrek said, with a small smile. His eyes were steely blue-gray. Vortenthad couldn't stop noticing that.

They wavered out into the hotel lobby. Vortenthad hadn't expected someplace this nice, or really any place, but Brontok had said it was worth it since it was for the convention, and as a celebration of the band's newest member. The gray fox was seriously concerned that if he didn't somehow convince these guys that he really wasn't going to run out on them, they were going to dote him straight into their mutual bankruptcy.

Still, it was very, very nice to not have to deal with sharing a room with any of them, or all of them, or sharing a bus seat, or the back of a van. Vortenthad wasn't sure if he was ready for that yet.

At least, not if Sanrek was involved.

Walking up the hall, he found Wudrar and Brontok drifting ahead, and Sanrek slogging along the carpet beside him, and couldn't tell or feel or guess if that was intentional or coincidental. "Hey, uh," he grunted, quietly. "You okay?"

The green rabbit glanced over at him. "Uh, yeah," he said. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I'm not, like. Very good at standing up to people, but," the fox mumbled. "There's nothing wrong with being a virgin, you know. I just wanted to... say that."

Sanrek was quiet for a moment, and Vortenthad's nerves spiked. He was probably completely misjudging the rabbit, playing the emotive fool in this context where he had to cultivate his toughest persona.

"Thanks, man," Sanrek said eventually. "I, uh, these guys are assholes sometimes, but they don't mean it in a bad way. If they like, start teasing, don't think it's anything personal. But thanks for saying that. I, uh, I appreciate somebody saying that, heh."

---

Shaking, Vortenthad crouched on the flat, compacted carpet, limbs trembling, beside the pass-through door to the next room.

He didn't want this to be happening... but... it was.

It was, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He couldn't control himself. He couldn't make it not be real.

He could hear it better now. The soft, rhythmic noise that had drawn him from the edge of sleep, slowly pulled him to full alertness as he processed what it could be, what it surely was. He couldn't stop shaking, some combination of the chilly room and his heightened state; his breath echoed raggedly in his throat. One twitching ear pressed against the edge of the door. His eyes squeezed shut; his face contorted into an expression of anguished experientialism, riding the wave of the sensation even as it grated on his mind.

The onomatopoiea "fap" didn't really describe it, he found. It was more of a "thwack". Thwack thwack thwack, fast, quite fast. "Ooohhh god," he heard Sanrek's voice utter, quietly. Thwack thwack thwack thwack, "Ohhhh fucking god," thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack. It sounded hard. Rough. In that sense, it was... lewd, scandalous, more shocking than it otherwise might have been, even to hear such a thing. It wasn't subtle, wasn't gentle and unassuming, wasn't surreptitious.

"Ohhh god yes, yesss..." Sanrek was moaning. His voice was pretty quiet, and it sounded... muffled, strangely muted. The other sound, however, was not muted, it was clear and loud and unmistakable.

Fingers trembling, Vortenthad fumbled at the hem of the right leg of his baggy, white-and-maroon-striped boxers. He didn't want to be doing this. He couldn't help it. He couldn't control himself. He was out of control. His erection was pulsing between his legs, rock hard and fully out of his sheath; the tip was slippery and wet and so was the inside of his underwear, against the back of his paw. He held his cockhead between his fingers and trembled, unable to work up the commitment to do what Sanrek was doing on the other side of the wall.

"Ohhh fuck, yeah... suck it..." the rabbit's voice breathed, and Vortenthad's heart (and cock) leapt; was that what he was fantasizing about? "Oh, yeah, suck it, suck it hard, yeah, yeah, fuck, shit, fuck..." He had pretty impressive arm endurance; he didn't slow down, didn't start and stop the way Vortenthad himself did. He just kept pounding away, same speed, same intensity, same strangled tension in his voice. He was really into it.

The fox was shaking harder now, it wasn't unbearably cold, yet he was shivering badly. His elbow knocked against the door; he panicked, but Sanrek clearly wasn't paying attention; his stroking and steady stream of dirty talk didn't even slow. Vortenthad could feel his own precum running over his fingers; he was so wet, wetter than he could ever remember being; his fingers were sticky and slippery and he could barely keep a grip on his cock. He still wasn't jacking it off, just gently holding it around the rim of the head, adjusting his grip on occasion. Still. Listening.

The rabbit's voice petered out; all he could hear was rapid breathing, and the pace of the stroking increased abruptly, slowed, increased, slowed, rapid-fire bursts of hammering followed by returns to the normal rate. Then there was the distinctive sound of the rabbit groaning, releasing the noise from his closed throat in a burst; the stroking sound changed and became much quieter and slower, and he was grunting again and again, saying nothing.

Vortenthad gulped. He squeezed gingerly, once, with his thumb and forefinger. Then, he held the pose, eyes shut tight as his cock painted the inside of his boxers with hot fox cum. He couldn't control it. It was too much. It was way too much.

Sanrek was breathing through his mouth, loudly, slowing; the thwacking sound had stopped abruptly. "Ohhhhh yeah..." he half-whispered. Then, there was the rustling sound of the blankets.

Frustrated and emotional, Vortenthad stumbled to his feet before his orgasm was completely finished, and hobbled across the room, feeling his semen running down his thighs. He pulled off his boxers and wadded them up, using them to mop himself up, and then grabbed tomorrow's pair from his suitcase and put them on. Then he lay back down in bed and curled up, not particularly wanting to think about how turned on he must have been, to cum that hard without even really masturbating.

Out. Of. Control.

As he lay there, staring toward the hotel room's window, the thought entered Vortenthad's mind. Sanrek had never had sex. He was a complete virgin. He'd never even pulled his dick out in front of someone, he'd said so himself. And he clearly was very aroused by the idea of getting oral sex, if his soft moaning had been any indication.

The fox wondered how difficult it could possibly be to suck a penis.

He felt layers of revulsion. Gay thoughts were not exactly novel to him, though he normally tried to push them into a back corner of his mind that he didn't visit except when alone. But, regardless, he didn't like thinking something like that about a real, actual male he knew, and it was even worse about a new friend. He felt perverted. Not to mention that he'd never considered something like giving a blowjob before; he was generally perfectly happy thinking about stuffing his dick into a nice pussy or -- on rare occasions when he felt especially gay -- maybe comparing dick sizes with another dude. Not like, actual sex with a guy. And definitely not him being the "recipient", having a cock inside his body.

Slobbering all over it. Going hard, like Sanrek had said, harder than he'd want someone going on himself. Swallowing. Of course he'd swallow. Sanrek would blow his load and he'd suck on his dick like a straw and gulp down his jizz so fast it couldn't even build up in his mouth. Suck him dry. Suck until there was nothing left in his balls.

Vortenthad shifted uncomfortably, feeling his cock stirring again, still only halfway slurped back into his sheath. It was wrong. Perverted. Maybe if he'd met Sanrek at some bar, someone that attractive, that able to capture his gaze and overcome his inhibitions. Maybe. But the rabbit was his bandmate, and seemed like the nicest guy out of the three of them, the one he liked the most. He wanted to be friends.

Was that a latent sort of attraction? Was he only interested in befriending the rabbit because he secretly wanted to suck his cock, and was only now realizing it?

He was a virgin. He'd never done anything with anyone before. But he beat his meat thinking about doing something, moaning about it, rubbing his cock until it squirted all over him while he thought about someone sucking him off. Why hadn't he made a move on someone? Surely he couldn't have any trouble attracting people, was he into something else, some deeper fetish he couldn't easily facilitate?

Was he maybe gay? He'd lied about having had sex with a woman, but he'd never even implied that was what he wanted to do, after being found out.

That line of thinking wasn't going to help, the fox realized. He had to work with this guy. Work with him and hopefully be friends with him. Normal, pleasant friends, not some sort of perverted fixation.

Vortenthad closed his eyes. He could still hear the rabbit's voice in his head, moaning and groaning and gasping. Oh god and oh fuck and oh yeah. Thwack thwack thwack. Pumping his virgin cock until it exploded, just a few feet away from where the fox had crouched creepily beside the door, holding his cock and jizzing in his pants.

Gross.

---

If I go/went further with these guys, it would be primarily about how having specific off-kilter fetishes -- Sanrek's is sensitivity play, spoiler alert -- affects one's development of relationships. Perhaps a proxy for the ways in which I feel somewhat constrained in not being able to date just any gay guy, because I'm so into furries. I don't think that's the entirety of why Sanrek hasn't gotten laid yet, though, of course; it's more complicated than that for most people.

Someday I'll get tired of writing about virginity and the sexual expectations placed on men by the society they live in. Probably.

Hopefully more Attachment soon, but at the very least, I'll publish something two weeks from now.