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Section 1 / 3: flowers for february

I breathe heavily, holding my head in my hands. I'm sitting on the stairs outside his house, trying to collect my nerves, absolutely petrified of going in. Birds tweet above me in the early evening sky, chopping up my thoughts in assorted intervals. I feel like my legs have had concrete poured over them, locking me in place. I've sat a bouquet of roses beside me, opulent and beautiful, but can't bring myself to hold them. I want to give them to him, to see that bright look in his eye, to be marked by his smile - But I fret more what will happen if he slams that door on me. Half a decade of best-friendship blown to bits by one bad decision, years of history soured by my own inability to control my feelings.

I have no good reason to be here. It's not going to be the cheesy courtship you see on TV even if he does accept. We're both dudes, for one. What percent of the population is gay again? It isn't high, I know that for certain.

I rub my eyes, my tail thrashing against the stairs behind me. Anxiety writhes stubbornly in my stomach, mauling its lining and sharply biting into my gut.

I just can't handle myself, I guess. I've tried to suppress my feelings for him - A lot - but it never works. Now I've resolved not only to tell him, but to ask him on a date. And now that I sit here, I realize how stupid, stupid I was. I groan, claws digging nervously into my arms, looking out listlessly at the suburban street. God, I'm such an idiot. I really shouldn't be here. The flowers, too... What a braindead idea.

But I am here either way, aren't I? I take a deep breath. If I get up, start my car, and leave this idea behind, I'll be right back where I started. What good does that do me? I have a lot to lose, but a lot to gain, I guess. My mother always tells me I'm too cautious, and I guess I have to agree with her. Doubt is a well-regarded visitor in my mind.

Uncertain, I sit there, trying to be calm. Hands shaking, I pull out my phone to look over my messages with Olivia again. Its a good idea, dude, she said in the last one, also adding: you've got this. Dont over think it ive known him longer than you.

She's his sister, so I guess she would know better, but I'm still conflicted. I don't want to fuck our friendship up.

I gulp, putting my phone away. I just want to be calm and do this. I'm so eaten up by these feelings and I'm just - I'm just tired. I get up and rub my eyes, deciding to pace up and down the stairs of the porch. I can do this. I can- I can do this. I think if I just get up there and ask him out, that peace of mind will help me: The closure if he refuses - Or the excitement if he, you know.

I'm just going to stop thinking about it.

I take a deep breath and smooth down my razzled fur, then lean down and pick up the bouquet. Nervously holding it in my hands, I waste no time as I walk up to the wood door. I stand in front of it, shifting nervously on my paws, and remind myself to just do it.

I don't give myself more time to think about it. I reach up and knock on the door.

The knocks ring out, and I flinch at the fear of my own decision. Right now is my last chance to back down, I realize, to throw the flowers into the grass and pretend I wanted something else. But as I dwell on it, the seconds passing by, it's soon too late.

I hear someone turn the door handle on the other side, and I jump anxiously, trying to stand tall. I take a rickety breath.

The person opens the door, and he is on the other side.

The pine marten looks at me curiously, eyes darting between my slim gray-furred form and the flowers in my hand. I feel petrified, like I've just looked Medusa in the eyes and she cursed into stone - I stare at him, and he stares at me.

He speaks. "...if those are for Olivia, she's not-"

"No," I choke out, shaking off the stone. "No. These- these are for you." I hold the roses out to him.

"Oh," he says, taking them. A hesitant silence fills the air. He tentatively holds the roses, looking, down at them. "Thank you."

I'm such an idiot, aren't I? "I was just wondering," I gulp. "If you wanted to get dinner at Hatherby's tomorrow. The restaurant." I retract my claws, anxiously scratching the back of my hand. My heart pounds hard, the thump reaching up and through my body. "Like- go on a date." I flinch a little as I say it, ears flattening against my head while I look away. I'm such an idiot. "I- ... I know we've just been friends for so long and you're probably not gay and I understand that, I was just wondering-"

"Hans," the marten says. "Relax, dude. You're alright." He smiles and inspects the bouquet. "I just wasn't expecting this." He reaches over and unexpectedly squeezes my shoulder. "I'd love to go."

I audibly exhale, a weight vanishing from my mind. "I'm excited, then." I let out a relieved laugh. "I will text you a time later, yeah?"

"Sure," he answers.

"Great." A goofy smile comes over me. "I hope the roses weren't too much."

He holds them gently in his hands. "Don't worry about it. You know I like them and I appreciate it." There's a cheerful glint in his eye. "You've always been so sentimental."

A rosy heat runs to my ears. I look away again and head down the stairs. "I- I guess." I clear my throat. "I've got work to do, but I'll talk to you later, if that's alright."

"Sure, I'll be around." He waves. "See ya."

I wave back. "See you."

I dash my way to my car and open the door, slipping inside. I lean back, a deep sigh of relief emanating from me. I fucking- I did it. And he said yes.

That goofy, excited smile comes over me again. I glance towards the door of Damien's house. He's closed it.

I pull out my phone and text Olivia. He said he wants to go, I message her. She probably won't respond for a while, I realize. She's a year older than us and started college this fall, so between that and her job she's usually not around - Which is fine, I guess.

I put my phone back and look over at Damien's house.

He said yes. He said he'd go on a date with me.

My hand trails to the shoulder he squeezed. I feel the cloth of the jacket, imagining his hand returning there again... it's almost worryingly appealing.

As I start the car and begin to roll away, a purr rolls out of my chest.

Section 2 / 3: steak & valentines

I tap my fingers against the table, looking around the dimly lit atmosphere. He should be here any minute now.

My choice of restaurant is a little unusual - A steakhouse - but it's something we both like and there was no way I was taking him somewhere fancy.

Speaking of the marten, Damien parts his way through the chatter of the room and begins to make his way towards our table.

My heart pounds an extra few beats, and I wave. He waves back and slides into the booth next to me. "Hey."

"Hey," I echo.

An awkward tension floods the air in a miasma. Neither of us seem to know what to say. The gray booths seem all too wide, the air is all too dark, the smell of rolls and cooked meat all too thick; the moody, friendly demeanor of the room only amplifies the juxtaposition of us and what we're here for.

He stares at me. I stare at him. My eyes note the cute turns of his face and ears, the chocolate color of his fur, and that yellow pine-marten streak leading under his t-shirt - I blink a few times. I should probably stop thinking about it.

Damien clears his throat and breaks the silence. "I got into a bit of traffic, I'm glad I wasn't late."

"You're never late."

"Guess it just works out that way." He picks up his menu from the table. "Sorry if I seemed disparate yesterday. I was just- surprised."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I uh-" He nervously chuckles. "I didn't know you were also gay."

I awkwardly nod, shifting in my seat. "I didn't know you were either." I swallow. "To be honest, I was absolutely petrified you'd say no and I'd fuck everything up."

He smirks. "Yeah, well." The marten pushes his hand over the table until our fingers gently touch. He takes a deep breath. "I couldn't say no to you."

My heart pounds hard. The flirtatious words sparkle and bounce in my ears while I feel that little bit of him against me, causing miniature sparks in my head.

I see a smug grin in his face. "Anyway," he says. "Let's order."

The rest of the dinner goes well, all things considered. I manage to maintain my composure as we eat and laugh with each other - Though my minimum-wage-high-schooler wallet certainly doesn't like it, I do. And Damien does, too, which is arguably more important. Besides, he agreed to split the check with me.

Our chatter blends in with the rest of the establishment as time goes on. A few flirty words are exchanged, but for the most part we're both too timid to make any bold moves. For now.

It eventually comes to an end, however, and we are finished eating. We pay for our meal and head out the door into the cold night air, gentle wind licking at our fur. We stand in the streetlight outside the steakhouse, and we turn to face each other.

He's a few inches taller than me, something the marten has playfully teased me for in the past. Now though, standing so close to him, I don't think he wants to tease me at all.

"Dinner was good," Damien says. "Thanks for bringing me out here."

My hands feel lonely in my sweatshirt pocket. "No problem. I like spending time with you."

He smiles. "Same here."

There's an uncertain pause as we watch each other, unsure what to do. Eventually, however, my instincts decide there's something not right about the distance between us, and I should do something about it. An urge to hug him comes over me, and I can't resist it. So, awkwardly, I step forward and snake my arms around him. I press my head against his shoulder. He soon reciprocates, and I feel his arms wrap comfortably around my back. A few people walk past us as we hug, and I don't even care.

Emotions explode within me as we embrace. I feel such a connection to him, I realize, something drawing me to do what I'm doing now.

He slides his muzzle over my shoulder, rocking us a bit. We hold this position for a while, reveling in the intimate severity of the moment.

I wrap my tail around Damien's leg. "Please," I murmur. "Stay with me. Come over to my house."

The pine marten sighs. "I don't know. My dad might be getting home in the morning and you know how he is."

"Please. Life's so boring, but you're not. I don't want to go back to that normality again."

He sighs again. "I guess I can't say no to you." Damien pulls away from the hug and gives my head a few strokes. Little tendrils of pleasure follow each finger.

I smile. "Thank you, Damien."

He smiles back. "I'm doing this as much for myself as I am for you, but you're welcome."

"That's good. You know the directions, right?"

"Of course," he answers.

"We should get moving then."

"Yeah."

3 / 3: garden of eden

I open the door to my house, leading Damien inside the rickety home. I check in on my mother, who is blackout drunk and asleep in her room as usual nowadays. Damien seems worried about it but I tell him not to press the issue as I lead him to my room. The look I give him seems to shut him up.

We make our way into my room and I close the door, yawning and sitting down on my bed.

"Haven't been here for awhile," Damien remarks.

"Still the same garbage pile it always is," I respond.

"Nonsense. I like it."

"Whatever, sit with me."

The marten obliges, sitting down on the bed next to me. He slips off his sweatshirt, revealing a plain black t-shirt. A little more of the yellow streak on his chest shows, just below his neck. "What'd you want to talk about?"

"Nothing in particular- Oh, yeah. Did you finish reading..."

The conversation continues on. Occasionally, I remember we're technically still on a date, and my ears flash red and I stumble over my words. I'm not entirely sure if Damien notices or if he's just pretending to not see it.

Time passes we get deeper into the conversation.

Something happens.

"...God, I remember that so well. Funny how memories random memories can get stuck in my mind, like gum to a desk's underside. Also, don't call me kit-kat. You know how dumb that nickname is."

"First, yeah, I feel the same way about my memories. Second, I say that to mess with you and it's funny."

"I will die if you say that in public," I answer.

A smug grin creeps up on his face. "What's stopping me?"

I glare at him. "Please do not."

"Counterpoint: It'll be funny."

"For you! Not for me," I say.

He laughs. "And what are you gonna do about it, kit-kat?"

I punch his shoulder, rolling my eyes. "You're so fucking immature."

"Maybe. But I'm more of a man than you'll ever be."

"Oh yeah? You want to bet on that?" I challenge.

"I do. And I'll win." He gives me a lopsided smile.

"Alright, let's go."

"Yeah?" He says.

"Yeah." I reposition myself. He does the same.

In an instant, I launch myself at him. He tussles with me, and we fall onto the bed, quarrelling and trying to pin the other down. Our bodies churn across one another as we playfully growl. My tail thrashes against his back. His lays across my leg. We battle and toss each other around until finally, on the middle of the bed, I grow tired and find myself pinned with my back against the mattress. Damien holds down my arms and plans his legs over mine, weight pressing into them. I squirm and try to get away, and somewhere at this point, me struggling against him, Damien's lips meet mine. The marten's muzzle presses into my feline one, and I find myself embroiled in a kiss, any urge I had to "fight" disappearing. His position on top of me changes from a combative one to one of more leisurely amorous intent. He frees my hands and I move one to the back of head, getting lost in the taste of his muzzle. He presses deeper into mine, and I'm quickly embroiled in a make-out session, my actions outpacing my thoughts.

A dozen kisses later, he pulls his lips away from mine, breathing heavily. "Does that victory prove my point, kit-kat?"

I look him in the eyes. "Yeah."

"That's good," Damien says. "I want more." He reaches over and tugs on my t-shirt, trying to pull it off. I let him. One he does, he slides off me. "Onto your side," he says.

For some reason, I don't question him, and flip onto my side, facing away from the marten. I hear him slip off his own t-shirt and throw it onto the floor before reaching over and draping his arms over me.

He squeezes my body. "I've wanted to be here for so long," he says. "Just you and me like this, kit-kat." He pulls himself against me. "I could just... eat you." He squeezes myself. "Well, not literally."

I feel sharp teeth collapse loosely around my shoulder as he nibbles at it. He pets my bare chest, running his fingers through that gray fur. "I... want you to."

I close my eyes and let my emotions run through me, feelings of allurement swirling around my soul and invigorating me.

"Yeah?" He says. He eventually starts to get more aggressive with his moves, biting down on my shoulder as he plays with the waist of my sweatpants. He pulls at them, sliding them down a little. "Then what am I doing?"

I swallow. "You're undressing me."

He pulls my sweatpants down a little more. "That's correct, but what am I going to do after that?"

"Uhm," I swallow again. "You're-" My ears go hot. "You're going to fuck me."

He chuckles, pulling down my pants even more. "Right on, kit-kat." He slides away from me, and I hear him kick off his own pants, then the sly sound of him pulling down his underwear and dropping them to the floor. He moves closer to me again. "Do you need me to undress you or can you do it."

"Erm," I mumble. "Uh..." I can't bring myself to look at him, instead flipping onto my stomach and facing the wall.

He sighs, grabbing my pantlegs and yanking on them, causing them to unravel down to my shins. He then pulls them all the way off and reaches over to my underwear. "This is the point of no return," he remarks. Damien then reaches over to my waist and pulls them down and off my body, revealing the curves of my ass. "Would you look at that," the marten says. "As lovely as it's always looked."

The hotness of my ears grows, my heart pounding. "I..."

"No need to talk," he tells me. "Just do. And what you need to do right now is get up onto your elbows and knees."

I nod and nervously lift myself up, the lukewarm air feeling foreign against my bare fur as I present myself to him.

Damien comes in closer to me. "I've wanted this so fucking bad," he murmurs. The marten leans over and rubs his fingers over my cock. Little electric signals come from each tug as he stimulates it, only stopping when a few drops of pre begin to leak out. I huff.

"Alright," Damien says. I hear him open a bottle. "I was hesitant to come but saw it happening. What might happen. So I uh- came prepared."

The smell of lube fills the air. My heart pounds harder as the amorous reality of the situation sets in on me.

A few moments pass. Damien speaks. "Lift," he says. I lift my tail.

Suddenly, I feel a slight cold as a few fingers make their way around my rim, occupying the tight space. When they pull away, the wetness of lubricant remains there.

Damien puts his hands on the front of my thighs and positions himself right behind me. I feel the tip of his cock press against my rim. "Okay," he says. "Are you ready, kit-kat?"

I nod meekly.

"Okay, here we go." At that, I feel that tip press into me. His shaft slowly presses into the sacred space inside me, filling it out. It hurts, at first, as he makes his first few pumps in and out. I grunt a few times. Damien speaks to me. "If you need me to stop, just let me know. But it should get better."

I nod absentmindedly. He continues his slow movements, and as he speeds up a bit, that pain starts to ebb away. A electric feeling of pleasure begins to replace it, and builds with each press in and out he makes inside me.

Damien makes a few pleasured growls as he picks up the pace just a bit more. My own feelings of sexual stimulation begin to exponentially grow, and soon enough, the pain is wholly replaced by a strong feeling of pleasure. And in the moment it grows to a incredible amount, I let out a satisfied moan.

"There you are," Damien says. "I told you you'd like it."

The pleasure envelops my brain, shutting down all other thoughts as he fucks me. This continues, and I don't stop myself from moaning multiple times at the sheer feeling of the experience. It eventually must come to an end, however, and Damien soon makes one last, deep, thrust inside me, followed by pumping strands of sticky white hotness into me. As he does this, he lets out a pleasured growl, only stopping when he finishes. Then, breathing heavy, he comes to a stop inside me. To add to the effect, he reaches over and jacks off my dripping cock. It doesn't take long until I shoot my own whiteness down onto the sheets below.

He pulls out of me and drops onto the mattress, out of breath. I do the same, and the marten pulls the blankets over us. The smell of sex and cum in the air, the last of the moment's fireworks start to leave me as I press my back against Damien's chest. He slides his arms over me. We both take a few moments to recollect ourselves, the marten letting out a content sigh. Eventually, the ramifications of our actions realize in my mind.

"How am I going to hide this from my mother?" I murmur.

He squeezes me. "You know she won't care."

"Still weird."

He kisses the back of my neck affectionately. "We can get up really early tomorrow and clean before she wakes, if that soothes. Either way, we're both 18. It's hardly her problem. Besides, let's not worry about that now, kit-kat." Damien squeezes me. "Just let me hold you."

I put my hand over his. "Fine," I murmur, closing my eyes. "Fine."

"Good," the marten says. "It'll do us well."