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HypNovember

Day 2: Eyes

"My Brother's Obsession"

"Lucas' boyfriend sent me a message. He's worried about him."

Arthur stopped his work for a moment. He waited for his mother to say something else. She didn't, so the arctic fox continued what he was doing. After a vigorous shake of the can, he pressed the cap and continued with the mural he promised for the Community Center. His mother, of course, wasn't happy with his lack of interest.

"Aren't you gonna say something?"

Arthur stopped again. With a sigh, he put down the spray paint and leaned his head to the left to look at the vixen attired in her Sunday outfit, and replied in the most exhausted tone he could make, muffled by the gas mask covering his maw.

"I know Lucas, mom. Whenever he loses a competition he spends days crying for not being good enough, makes some vent art, smokes some weed, buys shit from Amazon he's not gonna use, and then he's good as new. He's been through this before. Give him some time."

"It's been three weeks, Arthur!" She urged him.

"Yeah, he's taking this one very personally, I give that--", he took back the can before his mother interrupted him again.

"This is serious, Arthur!"

The fox took off the gas mask and let it hang from his closed hand.

"Why are you all acting as if this wasn't the first tantrum he makes? He has been a bad loser since we were kids. And you're just enabling that."

"Go and check he's ok," his mother ordered, ignoring what he just said.

"Why don't you go? As far as I remember, I'm not his mother."

"Because he doesn't listen to me when it comes to art."

"Me neither," Arthur mumbled.

His mother's ears twitched after that. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Arthur sighed. Resigned, he threw the mask and the can to a nearby box and dragged his paws away from the mural. "Any delay is gonna cost you extra. Just so you know," he said as he left, making sure not to stay to hear his mother's reply.

The only "bad thing" about being an arctic fox working with paint was quite obvious: there wasn't a single day Arthur didn't end up with his fur painted. He could wear more clothes to protect himself, but his fur was already thick and warm enough to put on more things on top during work. Besides, it was only a bad thing as long as Arthur allowed it to bother him, and he ended up enjoying the multi-color layer on his fur--he said it reflected his love for art.

So seeing the arctic fox driving around with red, blue, and orange stripes across his fur and clothes were relatively normal--at least for him. He wouldn't take a bath just to go and check with his brother if he had to go back to work after that. It was a hassle already going to his pretentious apartment.

Lucas' boyfriend, a nice lion named Raymond, sent him a voice message after he left. "Arthur. Your mother told me you're coming too. I'm already with Lucas, seeing if I can talk some sense into it. He got another obsession and... yeah, I see what I can do. Hopefully, he's gonna be better by the time you arrive. I'll... ah... I'll let you know".

When the message ended, Arthur sighed. Another obsession was the last thing he wanted to deal with. It was a bad habit he got from that stupid art school mom sent him to. It sort of disappeared after he met Raymond, and only manifested during moments of intense stress. Lucas painted the same thing over and over again because "there is always something to fix".

He went over his usual speech for that kind of situation. Despite how much he hated it, Arthur became good at dealing with his brother's issues--he constantly wished he wasn't one of them, but the younger fox couldn't get over his "rivalry" with Arthur, whom he considered a better artist than him.

30 minutes later, Arthur arrived at the fancy building, where he got the regular look of despise from the security personnel working in the front. Arthur was used to that kind of look from the places Lucas frequented.

"Did Lucas Elsyr leave?" Arthur asked as he approached the desk.

The wolf on the other side of the desk frowned. "No, Mr. Elsyr hasn't left. He recently got a visit."

"Good," Arthur went on and wrote his name on the visitor logbook--Raymond had been the last person to visit his brother, although he saw two unknown names that came the day before.

After he got the approval, the fox crossed the crystal door and took the lift to the 18th floor. He wished that Raymond had managed to calm him down by now to make things easier for him. He was his boyfriend, after all.

The moment he walked out of the elevator, his nose caught a strange smell in the air. A faint scent of sweat. It felt almost unnatural on a building cleaned constantly to keep with its high standards. And, as he walked towards his brother's apartment, Arthur noticed the smell getting stronger too.

At the end of the hallway was the wooden door leading into Lucas' place. A mahogany door with the number "1820" painted in gold on top. The door was ajar, and Arthur noticed immediately the obsession Raymond talked about. As he got closer, he noticed the eyes painted in red all over the wooden surface. And the scent of sweat and something became stronger as he moved forward until he realized it was coming from his apartment.

"Goddammit, what did you do this time?" Arthur cursed under his breath and walked in.

The moment he pushed the door open, he was immediately hit with the mixed scent of different males. It was strong enough to stun him for a moment. Arthur waved his hand in hopes to get the smell away.

"Lucas, it's Arthur. What the fuck is this--," only then he opened his eyes and the terrifying obsession his brother had acquired, "--smell...?"

Arthur passed by the receiver, closed the door behind him, and walked into the open-concept living room, amazed and scared over the multiple eyes his brother had been painting over the past days. Lucas moved all his furniture to the corner and covered with canvasses the walls and floor, and even hung some from the roof, leaving them to spin slowly as if they were following the newcomer on his way in.

Not a single canvas depicted something different. There was nothing else but eyes, each one was more realistic than the other. And the more he looked at them, the more uncomfortable he felt.

It was easy to find the first ones he painted judging by the desperate and angry traces. That was the signature of his tantrum, a bad attempt to "fix" what someone criticized. And usually, it remained that way until he got it out of his system. But Arthur noticed the point where his traces became more delicate and passionate. And from there, each eye was better than the previous one.

And the canvasses weren't displayed in disorder--no, Lucas took his time to put them one after another, leaving space to walk around a wooden floor covered in paint. Some stains were recent, and Arthur found different types of pawprints scattered all over the place. Of course, he couldn't look away for too long...

Arthur found himself dragged back into looking at the canvasses. The eyes were so... uncomfortable to look at, and at the same time, he couldn't deny what wonderful work his brother had done with them. No matter where he looked, there was an eye returning the look at him. Blue, green, black, red, golden. They were all looking at them.

"Lucas? Raymond? Where are you?" Arthur called.

But no matter where he looked, he found an eye staring back at him. One blue. One green. One black. One red. One golden. And he couldn't but get lost in the perfection that was portrayed on each canvas. The shape of the eye. The colorful iris. The deepness of the pupil. And the undeniable lust reflected in its look. A lust that was slowly creeping up his legs, dragging him into the void that was the deep, black spot in the middle of the eye.

The air was still plagued by that strong scent of sweat. It was intoxicating. Covering his nose did nothing. But he also began to like it. Arthur clenched his fist against his chest, feeling a passionate flame burning inside him. The smell was familiar, but his attention was driven to the eyes whenever he tried to decipher where the scent belong, unable to escape from the gravitational pull each eye applied on him.

"Lucas... it's me, Arthur..."

He was breathing loudly and heavily. Why? He felt disoriented just by looking at the canvasses. The details of the dimly illuminated apartment began to fade as the eyes became the only thing Arthur could perceive. Covering the walls and floating in the air, following each move he made. And Arthur continued looking at them, getting a familiar feeling from each one of them. They all acquired a more realistic aspect until one of them blinked in the corner of his eye.

With no exit visible, Arthur followed the smell of sweat, the only thing that refused to fade. He dragged his paws over the painted floor, leaving his pawprint on the way to the main bedroom. The temperature raised with each step taken, forcing the dizzy fox to take off his clothes, leaving them over other pieces of cloth left across the hallway. The painted eyes plagued the narrow hallway--their gaze pierced through Arthur's mind, making him feel vulnerable.

Weak.

Docile.

Horny.

He felt so horny under that scrupulous look. Completely naked and fully erect, Arthur couldn't escape the judgment of the eyes surrounding him.

Quiet moans came from the other side of Lucas' bedroom. And the smell was the strongest there. Arthur pushed himself against the wooden door. His entire body felt so heavy that all he wanted was to lie down. It took him a couple of attempts to put his hand over the doorknob and twist it

Where he entered didn't look like a bedroom at all. There was no furniture, only models of different species standing in front or over a canvas with an eye painted on it. They were all naked like him. And sweaty. And horny. Arthur looked around, hoping to find his brother there--he was too dizzy to question what he was watching.

Instead, one canvas caught his attention. A hand closed the door behind him as he walked slowly towards the painting laying against the wall. He passed by a lion who looked familiar, knelt in front of a blue eye and jerking off vigorously. He wanted to say something, but his own painting was calling--a big green eye that looked too similar to his.

Arthur knelt in front of the painting and put a hand over it. The eye was looking deep inside his mind. He felt himself being sucked into that big glowing pupil. And the flame in his chest became stronger as he felt that urge to touch himself. He took a deep breath of that intoxicating musk, clearing his mind of any thought and making room for an unbearable lust.

And the more he admired the eye, the more he realized how perfect it was. A painting that went beyond realism and became a true reflection of himself and his soul. A livid proof of his brother's talent, one that he wouldn't ever be able to surpass.

One hand closed around his throbbing cock, and the familiar scent of an arctic fox reached his nose when his brother breathe next to his ear.

"Oh, Arthur, I'm glad you made it. I couldn't finish without your help."

Arthur moaned as soon as Lucas began to jerk him off.

"Please, look carefully and lend me your paint, so I could finish my masterpiece."

His body was too heavy to move. And the pleasure was too intense already to stop it. Arthur did as he commanded and looked deeply into the painting, into the reflection of his very own soul, moaning along with his brother as he jerked him off.

Oh, what a beautiful obsession was that one.