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Chapter 3: Denial

Curdu just sat, staring open-mouthed at the tired looking grey wolf before him. Reál strayed his hands out to Curdu, one finding its place on his knee, and the other wrapping around Curdu's back and resting on the far shoulder. The trio held the sad tableaux for a time; Reál's gaze fixed on his love, while Curdu and Doyle locked eyes, as Curdu tried to find some inkling of falsehood in the inspector's eyes.

"I'm sorry son..." Doyle said, trying to stave off the immovable and stubborn silence holding over them.

"What..." Curdu sighed; neither Reál nor Doyle could find any trace of emotion in him. "What happened?"

"Son, I really don't think--" The inspector's hesitation was met with a piercing glare from Curdu, who was in no mood to argue. The inspector, a well experienced lawman, used to dealing with harsh looks from criminals, superiors, and other cops felt himself break down beneath the eye of this seemingly meek feline. He knew he had no position to argue from, and sighed, resolving himself to continue.

"Alright..." he began. "It was a car wreck. Your parents were apparently coming home from a party around three or four in the morning. Tox reports haven't come in yet, but we don't suspect alcohol was involved at all. Doesn't seem like there was anything wrong with the car either, though with how it turned out, that statement is pretty much a shot in the dark. Seems they hit a patch of black ice on the road, and slid off the road. The passenger side of the car hit a road light pole, and bent around it, maybe... sixty-degree angle. Your mother was in the passenger seat and she took a good deal of force from the hit. She seemed to be sitting right where the car hit the pole, right at the bend. I don't think she suffered at all. Just kind of boom, gone." The inspector snapped his fingers, and attention realighted back across Reál's stunned and dazed visage. Reál's attention darted around, reassessing the situation; the inspector was still looking detached, but intense, and Curdu's face and body, usually vibrant and full of life, were emotionless. Curdu was withdrawn into his thoughts. Reál gave him a rub of attempted comfort on the shoulder, and though he got no reaction, Reál hoped it helped a little.

"Go on," Curdu said, ordering Doyle about without of thought or ounce of hesitation, affecting the air of one entirely in control of the situation. Doyle nodded to the boy and continued.

"Your father was driving. During the impact his spine broke, or twisted or something, right about here." Doyle indicated a spot on his back about in the same horizontal plain with the base of the ribcage. "There was also some severe head trauma, as it seems his forehead met square with the side of your mother's seat. He was unconscious but still breathing when the medics arrived, and was bleeding pretty badly. Your mother was bleeding some too, but like I said, she was already gone. They did everything they could for your father, but he died before they got to the hospital. We have some of the personal effects we gathered at the scene, and I suspect the paramedics might have some from your father. We can hold those down at the police station until you want to come pick them up. You'll be getting some information from the funeral home in a day at the latest, about arrangements and such."

The wolf sighed as he concluded his calculated speech, one that he was, unfortunately, relatively used to giving, simply with different scenes and descriptors each time. He hesitantly patted Curdu's unoccupied knee. "I'm sorry son. I really am." Curdu looked up with the same distant look in his face.

"Well, these things happen, eh? Just glad no one else was hurt." His voice, if nothing else, truly expressed his presently remote personality. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

The wolf shook his head.

"Alright, well... thanks I guess." He turned to Reál. "Since I'm up, I think I just get my shower now, and get cleaned up for the day," Curdu said, rising and stretching slightly. He nodded to the wolf politely, as if to dismiss him from service, having worn out his purpose for the time being, and walked upstairs flatly, without jaunt or grief. Reál grew worried, and turned to the inspector.

"Well... thank you for coming over sir. You'll have to excuse him. He's just--" Doyle raised a hand to stop Reál from talking.

"I understand son. I've had this job for a good many years, probably longer than you've been around. I can't be offended by reactions to this kind of information. Makes furs do funny things and say funny things." The inspector sighed. "You should probably stay with him for a while. It's hard enough losing both of your parents in the same day, but living in an empty house after it isn't going to help anything at all. And be patient with him. Be a good friend, and... err... l-lover...?" His wizened, almost sage-like speaking gave way to the notion of the two young males together, clearly showing the wolf's uneasiness at the subject. Reál simply nodded silently. "Right. Well, take care of him. I think I have a pamphlet in the car if you want it, about death and grief and whatnot, if you want it."

"No, I think we'll be fine for now, and if we need one we can get it down at the station when we pick up their belongings, right?"

"Right," the wolf said, rising and nodding. The old cop grunted as he turned to leave, his limp becoming noticeable again. Reál followed the wolf to the front door, unlocked it, and held it open for the inspector as he hobbled out. He bee-lined for his waiting car in the breaking dawn; the light streaking over the horizon cast long shadows from anything it touched, and the inspector was no exception. Reál said a polite good-bye, but if Doyle heard it, he made no reaction to it. Reál sighed as he closed the door and looked around the near silent house. The only sound, aside from Reál's soft pawsteps, was the muted sound of the shower's spray.

The house seemed much more empty to Reál now. True, nothing physical had changed since he'd arrived late last night. All the same items were there; the same two teenagers occupied the curiously shaped and proportioned home, yet, the knowledge that it would be just the two of them from now on cast a somberness over Reál he had never felt while at Curdu's normally animated home. His memory recalled times, several times during his and Curdu's friendship, where some person or another was hurrying about the home for some purpose that seemed crucial at the time, but now seemed trivial.

"I'm being selfish," he thought. "This isn't my home, and they weren't my parents. I shouldn't be this shaken and messed up about it. Curdu needs me..." He sighed as he mounted the stair, pursuing the soft hiss of the running shower, his mind racing with possibilities regarding the occupant.

Reál knocked almost timidly on the bathroom door.

"Yeah?" Curdu answered, projecting his voice out over the sounds of the water.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure," Curdu said casually, as Reál entered. "If you're wanting the shower, I'm gonna be a little while longer."

"No worries," Reál said, sitting himself down on the faux-marble counter of the bathroom sink. "You doing ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" Curdu responded, seeming genuinely confused about what could possibly be wrong, or what he could conceivably be upset about.

"Well... I mean... y'know, I just..." Reál tried to begin. He was struggling, and trying to put out the right words to narrate the reality of their situation, but in a way that seemed tactful to the occasion. "B-Because..."

"Because we had to get up so early?"

"Yeah..." Reál returned, with the slightest note of hesitancy in his voice. He couldn't bring himself to broach the topic, and he felt weak because of it. He felt like, on some level, that he was failing Curdu as a friend, and as a lover; he sighed quietly. "Yeah, that's why. Just checking to see how my kitty is feeling," he concluded, resigning himself to his emotional cowardice, and hating himself all the more for it. However his words seemed to drip with the smile he was affecting across his face.

"Kitty is fine," Curdu responded, with the same honey-sweet, friendly tone. He slid his tail out of the slightly ajar shower door, made from frosted glass, and flicked it, presumably at Reál since there was no one else in the room, before snaking it back into the shower. Reál took it as a wave, but could not determine if it was a playful or dismissive one; he didn't care to ask either. He sighed inwardly; it confused him that he should seem to be having more trouble coping with the death of Mr. and Mrs. Leon than Curdu himself was.

Truly Curdu seemed to be perfectly fine with the situation, as the water spattered from the decrepit old showerhead down onto Curdu's form. Perhaps the water was washing about Curdu's feelings and troubles, even if only for a short time. Or maybe the water of the shower stood in for Curdu's own tears, falling and running all over his body. Reál mused on all kinds of possibilities for why Curdu was reacting as he was, letting his head drift off into the clouds.

Reál's mind however was brought back down to earth by something familiar about the situation, but he couldn't quite place what it was. He looked around the room, and it seemed no different than when he had walked in. Curdu's semi-silhouetted form was still washing itself within the shower. Reál sighs and leaned back on the mirror, his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling. He didn't feel he could leave, mostly because he didn't want to leave Curdu alone right now, but also, in a very small part, he was draw to something in this room, some little thing holding him there. It seemed to have a stronger effect in the position Reál took on the counter after shifting himself slightly, as certain stirrings awakened within him, and Reál could feel the feral part of his mind being tapped; the feral part that had so dominated the actions and events of the previous night.

That was it. The previous night was holding him here. It's grip wasn't visible, but it wasn't imagined, or a wisp of loose memory either. Reál breathed deep, his nose embracing every bit of the scent it had caught, the scent... that damnable wonderful scent. It was wafting over the shower door, riding the rising and falling clouds of steam, the dried smell reactivated again by the shower's water. Reál held and savored each breath, letting the tingle Curdu's scent created in his nose spread throughout his body, energizing and revitalizing it. Reál shuddered pleasurably as the pheromones continued to bombard his senses, his reason and better judgment.

Reál, even in his present state, was grateful for the latter two, at least to some extent he was. The rising feral desires within him, if Reál gave himself over to him, would have seized control of his body and jumped it into the shower and taken the poor unsuspecting kitty right then and there. Reál gasped quietly to himself as he tried to stay his urges with mere thoughts of such actions, but he only succeeded in strengthening his drive. The prospects of longing competed for supreme attention within his mind, his member took note of the mental goings on and began to coax its way into the world, pressing against the denim fabric of his pants.

Reál's sense of reason and judgment forbade him from any such physical actions with Curdu so soon. His parents had just died, and Reál couldn't just take the little kitty right there; it was just something... you know, you just don't do, and Reál knew it. Despite his roving mind, and stirring sheath, he kept his position on the counter, though his hips began bucking slightly at random intervals, attempting to take a hole that wasn't there on a furson who was untouchable.

Reál closed his eyes and took a deep breath; this time it was not to gather more of the awakened scent, but in a failing attempt to calm himself and his nerves. A soft purr began emanating from his throat, vibrating him just slightly. His mind writhed as it watched the rest of his body begin slipping from control, and Reál felt, within his body, the twinges of his nerves. They were receiving their orders, but rebelled and kept paralyzed, clenching Reál's paws over the lips of the sink's counter.

He bit his lower lip, whimpering quietly to himself, as his mind tore at itself. He tried to be discreet about his struggle, and not allow any sound of it to creep over to the lithe figure just a few feet away. Indeed, on top of that, he was trying to keep the entirety of his self from the kitty, partially blurred by the glass, artificially frosted around the waistline, and blurred everywhere else. Curdu began humming softly to himself, unaware of the physical and mental torture his body and mere presence was forcing Reál to endure. Reál crossed his legs tightly trying to force his growing member into remission, and back into its home, but he met with no such luck. He only succeeded in creating a spike in his purr, as the rough denim fabric inside his jeans brushed against his member, giving the sensation of a dryer feline tongue.

"You ok out there Reál?"

"Oh yeah. Just fine kit," Reál answered. "Are you about done in there?" Please, please be done...

"Mhm, just rinsing off."

Reál sighed in relief, seeing an end to the tormented tunnel he was traveling through; he was almost free. He heard the shower turn off and the faint noises as the last reservoirs of water dripped out of the showerhead. The steam began to dissipate, taking the intoxicating scent away with it. Still, Reál's chest was heaving as the shower door slid open along its tracks, revealing the dripping kitty, with his fur tugged down into hundreds of little points by the myriad of now dried rivulets that had rained down on him. Reál seemed in quite a state as Curdu left the shower, his fur slightly matted already from the steam, Reál's own sweat, and his physical struggles against his self-inflicted mental bonds.

Curdu stepped out onto the old tattered rugs on the floor; it looked older than the two of them put together. The woven fabric was fraying from repeated use and the constant friction involved, not to mention the dozens of hookings its fibers received from toe claws desperately in need of a trim. He grabbed a towel and began to dry himself, as Reál's breath began to come back down to normal levels. Curdu stared at him, curious.

"Are you ok?" he asked, shuffling the clean warm linen across his fur.

"Yeah, just fine, I'm, y'know, just having a little trouble breathing with all that steam in the air," Reál said, as he felt his excitement diminishing to a comfortable level. It was a half-truth: the lack of steam was letting him relax. Curdu smiled at Reál.

"Aww... my poor kitty. You didn't have to stay in here for me..."

Reál shrugged.

"What can I say Curdu? I am addicted."

Curdu smiled, wrapping the towel around his waist, and walking over to Reál, his hips hinting at a subtle sway. He moved forward until their knees, touched, and then kept his torso, going, leaning down over Reál, leaving just an inch or two of space between their faces. Reál felt the tightness forming yet again in his jeans, as Curdu leaned closer, as slightly to the side, his warm breath pouring out over Reál's neck. Curdu reached up and out, pressing the palms of his paws against Reál's chest, feeling it heaving in self-denied lust yet again. Curdu leaned in and landed a kiss on Reál's lips with the utmost tenderness, holding his warm lips against his lover's. The pair held the kiss, eyes closed, and their bodies, the unlinked parts that is, remained frozen stock still. The kiss wasn't outwardly passionate or any deep display of desire; there was no clawing, or pawing, or trading of tongue. Yet the sensation was electric to both. At the connection, their hearts leapt and pounded within the confines of their bare chests.

Curdu eventually broke the kiss, just as tenderly as he began it. He smiled and nuzzled Reál's maw, and ran a paw down Reál's chest, extending his claws just enough to drag the tips across the sensitive skin below the midnight black fur, eliciting a soft purr from the feline beneath him. Curdu chuckled and licked Reál's nose.

"Should I make my big strong kitty some breakfast while he gets all clean and showered?" Curdu asked with a playful tone.

Reál merely nodded, as elements of that damn scent again assaulted him, coming from the close proximity he bore towards Curdu's barely clothed body. Curdu slid his hand down to Reál's jeans unbuttoning them before giving them a sharp little tug. Reál's pant however didn't move too much, as Reál's rear kept them firmly planted on his waist; Reál was inwardly glad of it as his rod was still peeking out, and causing him some embarrassment within the given situation. Curdu smiled again and ruffled the fur on top of Reál's head before he slunk out the door, his body moving teasingly slow past the doorframe, reviving the beautiful agony Reál had just gotten over. His tail wrapped around the doorknob and closed it; Reál could hear Curdu giggle lilting through the air down the hall as he went to his room for clothes, only adding to Reál's burden.

Now alone, Reál nearly tore his pants off, hastening out of them as if they were on fire. He had no qualms now about baring himself, and his kitty pride, to the open air. He turned on the water, and stepped into the shower, feeling each little stream fall onto him and massage his yearning flesh. He stood meditating again, trying to calm himself and his desires from Curdu's near fiendish, albeit unintentional, assault on them; in the stead of his passions, he focused on the water pressing against them, again forming little rivulets in his fur.

Reál felt himself enjoying a brief reprieve from his earlier state. His body relaxed and felt the sensations drain out from him, as is washed away by the warm water falling to his feet. He purred softly as the room began to steam up again, reaching for the bottle of soap to begin washing himself. However, he soon felt the devious tingling below his waist again. The heat, concentrated in such a small place, had yet again reawakened the all-too-familiar scent, and practically forced it to play with Reál's overwrought senses. He collapsed back onto the tiled wall, matting his wet fur with the friction as his body kept shifting about against the wall. His body couldn't seem to decide what to do with his weight and kept shifting it from side to side, in an almost amusing attempt to remain standing.

The scent was taxing him immensely, and with his incentive to remain pure now gone -downstairs cooking breakfast as a matter of fact- before he knew it, he was standing at full glory, amid his weakening legs and inhibitions. He finally allowed his body to slide down the cooler tile wall behind him, keeping his back propped up against it for support as his leads spread wider, giving himself better access to... well, himself. He lay there panting for a time, his internal nearly indomitable sense of reason still trying to overcome his urges, but it was certainly a losing battle. As the last remnants of restraint died off, his clarity reemerged, now unhampered by the internal conflict that had just ceased He was finally ready.

He gasped and jumped slightly at the forwardness of his own hand; it grasped his cock suddenly or at least much more so than Reál had intended. His hand acted with the speed of an eagle diving towards its prêt. His own touch, indeed fueled by its own need, made his legs spread even more, opening wing-like, like a butterfly, with his legs bent out and nearly horizontal to the floor. He rewarded his own submission to himself with a soft squeeze of his kitty meat, and a contented sigh.

He began pawing off, the sensation causing him to look up sharply, craning his head so the very top was pressed firmly against his supporting wall; his ears flicked and danced as the water splashed off the wall and played against them. His paw ran in sweeping, fluid motions, up and down his pulsing rod. His chest continued heaving as it had been doing many times before not too long ago; breath entered his body in pleasured gasps, and left it in blissful moans. The water on his hand almost gave the feel, the illusion, that his cock was enclosed within a loving maw... Curdu's maw... oh God... the mere thought of it made him redouble his moans

He imagined now, and in great detail, the sensations he had earlier denied to himself. Curdu's maw, his paw, his touch, his sweet tight pucker, all made Reál moan over and over as his pace increased and his hips bucked in his paw, flying with the passion of one in love, but alone for the time being. Still Curdu was with him, albeit unknowingly, in spirit. His scent, though finally and truly dissipating now, still hung tantalizingly in the air, and it had certainly emblazoned itself and its sensations upon Reál's brain. This of course is not to mention the thoughts and memories that flashed through Reál's head, ones regarding him and Curdu. The memories did not solely cover the events and confessions of the previous night, but spanned their friendship as a while, the entirety of their communion with each other, and the deep love and respect Reál realized they had shared all along, simply as friends. Reál could see only a bright and contented future for the two of them.

His mind shifted to thoughts of the future; Yes, Reál's feral mind created certain acts, images, and positions between himself and Curdu. The two competing dramas, the wild abandon of Reál's urges, coupled with his inexpressible emotions for Curdu both made themselves known and prominent characters in Reál's sensual meditations. The pleasure welling inside of Reál was almost a simple afterthought and byproduct of his meditations. The paired, and indeed, brother thoughts were far form fighting with each other for Reál's supreme attention, but rather, they harmoniously shared it, making the experience Reál was undergoing and inflicting on himself a nearly spiritual experience, as his hips and paw worked in relentless unison, one causing the other to fly up and down the rod at an even greater pace without any hesitations. Reál had created unto himself a yin-yang of the truest form: the sensual and the spiritual, the mental and the physical; these things drove him onward and almost consumed him in the moment.

Reál, floating around and amid abstract thought and pleasured bliss could feel his release approaching, bus could not sense the cooler air pouring in from the opening bathroom door. Perhaps it didn't matter to him, what with his mind as focused as it was on the ideal moments of the past, and on creating the ideal future for him and his kitten. Then his mind, seemingly of one collective accord flashed to a singular image and sensation, letting all else fall away. He thought of the kiss Curdu had shared with him, just before leaving the bathroom to cook breakfast.

Reál though of its tenderness, its passion, its simplicity; Curdu has truly meant it as a gift to him, and this thought was more than Reál, in his state, could bear. His back arched off the wall, chest puffed out and protruding as much as it could over the rest of his body. His posture, dripping as it was, resembled that of an inverted water slide. His whole body tensed just a moment before it happened, welling its energy, and then releasing it explosively, as jets of his fluid shot up, with some landing on the shower floor, some on his paw and thighs, but much of the impact was borne by his protruding chest, still forced outward by his arched back. His wet matted fur caught the sticky seed, but let it drip down over his body, forming rivers among rivulets, as his hips bucked still in a singular powerful thrust up, trying to bury his rod in a hole, in a Curdu that wasn't there. For a brief moment, Reál's body was entirely without order or leadership; he had checked out.

He was revived, harshly startled back to reality in the waning throes of his orgasm by a loud clash on the floor just outside the shower, quickly followed by the angry thudding of running footpaws. He shut off the shower, and opened the door looking out at what could have made the noise. He was what was to be his breakfast, on a worn wooden tray, now ruined. The cup was toppled and split, with milk pouring everywhere, and the plate that bore his eggs, bacon, and toast had cracked into several pieces of varying size. However, perhaps the most telling of the items, was a flower that had been encased in a glass vase. The vase was shattered and the water flowed freely away, leaving the delicate flower to die slowly in crystal-lined tears.