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"Feeling the past moving in

Letting a new day begin

Hold to the time that you know

You don't have to move on to let go"

deadmau5 & Kaskade,

' I Remember'

"You sure you don't wanna come out with us Saph?"

"I'm sure. Honestly, honey, you know I'm not really the party-all-night type."

"Hey, it's not like I've been tearing up the club scene myself lately but, fair. I know you'll appreciate the chance to relax and recharge."

Saph serves a soft smile. "It's been a lot, yeah. It's been fun - it really has - but it's been a lot."

I stretch out and lean back, sinking deep into the squish of the armchair. "Okay, but if you binge watch something it better not be one of our shows."

"Of course not! I would never." Her momentary display of outrage dissolves as she yawns openly before allowing herself to collapse along the length of the sofa. The past few days have drained my introvert roommate - a night off is probably exactly what she needs.

Saph and I are alone in the living room, the three lovers entertaining themselves elsewhere for a little while. Later we'll leave the husky to her comforts and head out. My visitors want to check out the local night life and I'm happy to oblige. We'll have a drink here, head to a bar for a few more, then move on to a club. This sort of thing was pretty much a weekly ritual for me back in the States but, now? Not so much.

Still, it should be fun. I'm a little giddy about it actually, dreaming it as a revival of those good old days, though those good old days were only a few short years ago and - if I'm honest - weren't so good at all.

"Things have been pretty chaotic with those three over, huh?"

"Absolute chaos. But, like, in a good way. They're awesome."

"Look at you, little miss socialite."

"Kinda proud of myself actually." She's not one bit sarcastic.

"As you should be." Nor am I.

"But, yeah, it has been a bit of a whirlwind. I've barely even been able to keep up with you. Doesn't feel right not catching up with my beloved roomie. Like, how are you feeling about everything? The wedding? Jay? Feather? Maybe you should spill the tea while we've got a minute, sis."

"Gosh, you're right," I chuckle and sit up in my chair, coming instinctively to attention. "A lot has happened. I'm in dire need of a gossip sesh."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" She asks, looking up with an askew grin, not matching my alert posture, but paying full attention.

I take a deep breath, a little overwhelmed at the prospect of unloading everything that's been on my mind. But, it's Saph. I trust her more than anyone.

I tell her about almost, but not quite, going all the way with Jay, and about feeling a sort of unaccountable attraction toward Feather, and about blowing up and upsetting them this morning and regretting it, and about the message from Adrian and how much my head is spinning just thinking about about returning to the states, and about how I'll probably go anyway. It's a lot, and as I talk I gradually lure her out of her state of rest. She sits up up at some point, leans in as I carry on, every new piece of information seeming to draw her ever closer until she's practically on top of me. By the end she's literally squeezing in beside me on the armchair and wrapping her arms around me.

"And I thought things had been intense for me. Oh boy, Ash, trouble just loves to follow you around doesn't it? Whatever shall we do with you?"

She's supportive about all of it, obviously, and commiserates over my newly minted tensions with Feather, knowing exactly what might have triggered me to blow up the way I did. She encourages me to make things right, tells me she's sure things will work out as long as I make an effort with them. I'm surprised at first to find she doesn't pry much into my muddled feelings of attraction toward the enby squirrel, but muddled as they are I think she decided it best to let me figure things out on my own and tell her what I come up with rather than the other way around.

"So, you're definitely going to the wedding?"

"I think so. The more I mull it over the more inevitable it seems."

"Are you gonna go super early and catch the bachelor parties?"

"I- Maybe. It would be fun to get away, and it would be a good excuse to hang with Eve a bunch more. I- I've been thinking about it. I think I'm gonna take Adrian up on his offer to call him and talk things through, see if my coming early would make sense, and try to figure out what's been going through his head. I don't know."

"Yeah, I mean," she pauses. "At this point he's definitely being more than just friendly, right?" She shrugs. "That doesn't mean there's any ill intent. Might honestly be an olive branch. They may simply want to seal up old wounds and welcome you back with open arms."

"I hope so," I say, staring vacantly at an empty patch on the opposite wall and nodding, mind a couple thousand miles away. "I hope so."

"Whatever happens, you know I'll be there for you."

"Does that mean you'll come to the States with me?"

She winces, frowns and tilts her head back and forth. "For you," she drawls out the words. "I'll make it work. If you're there for the wedding, I will be too."

"Oh, don't play coy, it's not all for me. I already know you'd love to see Eve again."

She scowls and stares daggers directly into my eyes, so close together on our makeshift love seat that our noses almost touch. Her expression shifts completely and she breaks out into a giggle. "I would, definitely. But there's no way I can justify the time off work if you're there a few weeks for those parties. I'll come, but only for the wedding, deal?"

"Deal."

We hug and laugh and move on.

She helps me compose a response for Adrian: something positive but not overtly committal, inferring I might call him up and talk things over once Eve and her partners have gone home. The message feels as if it's in good shape by the time I send it. I probably would have molded it well enough alone, but being able to work things through with Saph really helps to erase the associated anxiety of it all.

We cuddle up for a while after that, just discussing minutiae of the past few days. I let her know that Eve's very fond of her - which seems to perk her up - but, before I know it, we're out of time. The ferret in question pops her head in, offering encouragement for me to get all dolled up and ready before we head out and, following a final mutual squeeze with Saph, I heed her advice.

*

"You're kidding!" Jay exclaims with more flamboyance than I'm used to from the imposing, athletic wolf. It's cute.

We're in the corner of this cool, local bar. The decor is tasteful and modern, with only the occasional splash of pink neon. For a second the thought occurs to me that our group may be too loud, but no, the whole joint is loud - picking our conversation out from the rest of the raucous rabble would be a challenge.

I can feel the alcohol working it's magic on my lessening inhibitions as my mind lifts its way out of the confines of my skull. I'm not sure exactly how many drinks deep into the night I am, but I suppose that says enough on its own.

"No, it's totally true!" Feather reaffirms with wide eyes and swirling, enthusiastic paw gestures. "He sent me one every single day for like two months."

"That's so fucking creepy," Jay continues, shaking his head.

"Well, yeah, it totally is, but it was also kind of endearing."

I laugh loud. "Endearing?"

"Come on, he jerked it to different stills of me over and over again. A new tribute every day, like an offering to a beloved, omnipotent god. I mean, you've got to admit it's a bit of a power trip, right?"

Eve downs the end of her drink and thwacks Feather on the shoulder. "So that's the kind of thing what you get off to when you're not staying over with me and Jay?" It takes a second for it to click with me that Feather doesn't actually live with the two of them. It makes sense - they've only been dating a few months - I just hadn't really thought about it.

"It's not my fault I get dick pics in my DMs like every day," Feather argues with acted indignation. We're all giggling in that sort of what-the-fuck kind of way. Like it's funny, but it isn't, but it is, but, yeah.

"Wait, wait," I say, tipsiness and the immediacy of the moment overcoming the tensions between Feather and I for a while longer "Did you ever actually respond to that guy?"

"What? No! Of course fucking not!" Feather covers their muzzle with a paw while they laugh. "I don't want to encourage any of these would-be-stalker types."

"But you didn't ban him off your OnlyFur either!" Jay exclaims.

"I think that just would have encouraged his stalkerish-ness in a whole other way. Anyway, he calmed down eventually."

"He finally stopped?"

"No, he just sends them once a week now."

We erupt into guffaws and accusations and calls to see the latest picture - apparently it arrived only an hour or so ago. No doubt its arrival helped steer the conversation here in the first place.

Feather flashes the three of us the photo of some poor obsessive fan's cumshot splattered across one of their paywalled nudes - the fan's cum-leaking dick firmly in paw and mostly in frame. It's a lot to take in all at once. Eve and Jay howl with laughter and yell about how they can't believe Feather wasn't making it up and how weird it all is before moving on to discuss the quality and size of the dick and cumshot in question.

I can't focus on any of that. Even having seen the image for only a matter of seconds all I can think about is that seed splattered printout of Feather. Did the squirrel even clock that they just showed me themself naked? Eve and Jay didn't seem to think about it, or just as likely don't care. Feather appears unfazed, conversing with them both while I sit here, smiling softly and nodding along, all the while in my mind's eye staring at that enby squirrel stripped to the fur, rear side to the camera, head turning and flashing a sultry stare at the viewer, one leg folded up on a chair as they mount it backwards, their other foot planted on the floor, their big, pretty bushy tail raised high, their surprisingly bubbly butt and fuzzy balls on full display. I'm talking full-on femmy, flirty squirrel backsack. It goes without saying that the image has already been committed to long term memory.

Okay, fuck it, I admit it: they're hot. And I kinda might sorta be imagining railing them right now. And I'm feeling all weird about it because we argued. And I'm feeling weirder because I really,really like them. And that makes me feel even weirder because they're in a relationship with one of my absolute closest friends. And because I'm a little bit hard right now. And because in this moment I don't really care that they're not a guy, or that they have tits. And my head's spinning. And maybe it's all just the alcohol. But maybe it's not, because I keep thinking about them, don't I? But I'm gay, right? I know I'm gay. I am gay. But maybe, that doesn't mean- I don't know... Identity is personal. Attraction isn't a choice. I identify as gay, so I'm gay. I also like Feather's cute furry enby ass a whole lot. Maybe that's fine. I don't fucking know. Frankly, I don't care.

Ugh. I'm just now realizing quite how much of an idiot I've been. I have to make things right with Feather - blowing up at them this morning was the worst thing I could've done - but, now isn't the time. Later, when we're home. Or tomorrow, at worst.

I must appear utterly lost and Eve picks up on it. "Looks like you've just seen a ghost, Ash."

Feather turns to me, consternation knitting their brow, worried they somehow upset me even more, perhaps, but not knowing why, until- Their eyes open as wide as they go, they stifle another laugh with a paw. "Sorry, sorry! I just showed you my whole ass out of nowhere, huh?"

Jay catches on, pats feather's back and guffaws again. "And more besides!"

"N-no, it's fine!" I stammer, waving my paws back and forth in nervous denial of their apology.

"Right into the spank bank, huh?" Eve teases.

My discomfort must be obvious. Feather hurriedly apologizes again and frowns and tones themself down a bit while Eve tries to move the conversation along, but I find my voice and my confidence just long enough to interrupt her, tap the side of the squirrel's arm and tell them: "You've got a cute butt."

They chuckle softly, and thank me, a quiet smile lifting their features. They don't quite make eye contact, but it's progress.

I clap my paws together, dismissing the moment before anything else can be made of it. "I'm buying the next round," I announce. "Who wants what?"

*

I'm only mildly surprised that we were let into the club. I mean, we're all intoxicated, and only reasonably-well pretending that we're not. Then again, the ones getting shooed out of the line are mostly those smashed beyond comprehension, or high as fuck on something a little more exotic than alcohol, so, as I put it, only _mildly_surprised.

I get us a further round of drinks inside - at the standard, extortionate dance floor premium of course, all club owners collectively betting that their patrons will be too far gone or too allured by convenience to object. Unfortunately, they're right. A few sips and a few minutes of pounding music later, the rest of the world begins to fade away. We can barely hear one another as me muscle our way through throngs of people, looking around and getting a feel of the place. When did club goers get so young? When did I get so old?

"Fuck that, you're not old, you're not even thirty!" I must have thought out loud because Eve's responding.

"By a few months!"

"Bitch, I'm not old either!" She says, the outburst reminding me that she's the elder of the two of us.

Maybe not, but God, the place is full of kids. There's a whole lot of drinking-age college students here blending in with those not long graduated, the two groups becoming indistinguishable to my aging eyes. It's a total-immersion milieu of sexy twenty-somethings probably a little too into drugs, sex or alcohol to put quite as much priority on other aspects of their lives as they should. But there's us here too, and others around our age: thirty somethings who never got over their coke habit or their addiction to casual encounters. Or maybe they just like music and having a good time, who's to say? There are even a few who seem to surpass the forty mark - mostly fuzzy, beer-bellied, gay men. I'm glad at least that it's a gay club, I don't feel quite so out of place among the student populace. Middle aged daddies and barely legal twinks live in harmony here; I can get down and dirty with a room full of people not even a decade my youngers. Doubting myself is ridiculous, nights like these were a ritual for me barely three years gone. I suppose it's just that so much has happened in those years that they've felt more like decades.

It does seem to me that club culture is changing though. Not to judge, but I doubt much more than half of these kids are even queer. When did it become borderline mainstream for straights to come to gay clubs? It's no mystery so many of these places are morphing, being sterilized by the allure of mainstream appeal, bought by or simply transforming into clubs for 'everyone' instead of a sacred space for us fags. Maybe I am growing old and cynical after all, of soul if nothing else.

But, it's a nice club, and still pretty damn gay. Big electro-pop tunes bang side by side with vibey prog house, boys grind on boys to the beat, butch and femme looking girls trade saliva between lipsync sessions. It only takes a few minutes for me to melt into the rhythm of the night all over again. I'm dancing like I used to, just with a good few more pounds and noticeably less grace, but I don't care. I'm drunk and the room is spinning and the music is thumping and all of this, all of us, are one. Nobody gives a fuck that I'm fat, other than a few guys staring at my denim-stretching butt and thinking damn.

I remember what it was to be Ryan for a moment - I live it. This is what it could be to be Ash. I feel kind of hot, and kind of horny. I lose track of myself, and of my friends. I'm a part of the music, a part of the scene. I dance with an older equine, a big muscle-gut, working-man daddy who grinds up on me and buys me a drink when I make him laugh whispering in his ear between songs. I don't even remember what I said, but I'm smiling a lot, and feeling good. I'm simultaneously physically exhausted and of infinite energy.

Jay catches up with me soon after, I make him laugh too. We dance a while and he grinds on me as well, buys me another drink, we make out a bit, he tells me everything he wants to do to me, muzzle pressed to my ear, words slightly slurred by alcohol, his dick raging against his pants, pressed right up against me. I guide his paw to my own trapped excitement. I think we kiss some more, talk, dance. It's all a bit of a blur.

The maelstrom takes hold of me again, I get a bit lost. Some fresh-out-of-college canine twink makes eyes at me, sticks around me, dances with me, backs up against me - maybe a chubby chaser. I grind and growl in his ear and he begs me to take him home and fuck him all night, I laugh and keep on dancing and eventually he gives up. It wouldn't have happened regardless, but it doesn't help that all I could picture when he was in front of me was that photograph of Feather.

And then Feather is all I can think about. I wanna fuck them. The thought is exciting, enticing, new. I try to find them and do. They're dancing with Eve and I join in, then I remember we're on uncertain terms. I feel terrible, frustrated, confused and pre-emptively cock-blocked all at once. Jay appears behind me and I take out my frustration by making out with him like crazy in front of his lovers. Eve whistles, hollers and cheers while Feather applauds with surprised, hiccupy accompanying laughter.

We dance and laugh together a while longer - Jay's body, muzzle and paws all over me for most of that time - and then I'm being guided outside by the three of them. We're in an Uber home and it feels like it's only been minutes since we arrived at the club, but it's been hours. We're all talking and smiling but I'm not fully there for it, it's all in one ear out the other. I'm so happy to be around them, so mad at myself for fucking things up with Feather, so horny - but other than emotions and the physicality of it all, nothing really sticks in my memory.

At some point we end up home, I empty my bladder. It takes some time, as full of liquid as I am. Someone gives me a glass of water and I sip at it thankfully. More liquid, yes, but the good kind. We move to bedrooms. I find Jay to still be with me. We're touching and topless now. Kissing and giggling, licking and nipping. I'm stroking the unignorable tent in his underwear, he's squeezing the peach round the back of mine.

A pang of guilt and frustrated desire and need. I wish for a moment that it was Feather I was touching instead of Jay. I close my eyes and imagine it, but it doesn't work, the shape and feel is all wrong. So annoying.

Jay comes in gently for a kiss, but I'm annoyed, angry. I don't even know at who, or what, I just am. Blood rushes through me, mostly to my dick. I hold him tight and shove my tongue into his maw, fueled by desire and aggression. He relents, the big athletic wolf softening in my arms, allowing me to take the lead as I wrestle him back onto the bed, the two of us still attached by the muzzle.

Eventually, inevitably, we come up for air. He gazes up into my eyes with dreamlike admiration. I stare back blankly, grumpy, denied and, above all, horny.

"I want you to fuck me," I say.

His eyes go as wide as I've ever seen them.

"R-really?" He asks, legitimately astonished.

"Be a good boy and rail my ass so hard I'll feel it for a month."

As I kneel above him he slides my briefs down as far as they'll go, my drippy dick bouncing forth above him, his paws quickly returning to my bare butt and kneading my cheeks like fresh dough. From here I can feel his straining cock throb against my balls, pre soaking through his boxers as his excitement reaches a fever pitch.

"God, Ash, I'd fucking love to!"

"Good," I practically purr the word. "Let's-"

"But." He says. "You're really fucking drunk. A-and I know this is-"

"Come on I'm not that drunk am I?"

"You're slurring your words."

"Am I?"

He just nods. I take a moment to stop and take note of the sensations coursing through me. My entire body buzzes. My head throbs hard. Fuck, he's probably right.

"I want to Ash, I so want to, but it's a big deal for you and, while you're drunk? I can't risk doing something you might badly regret."

"Fuck off. I want it!" I whine, needy like a spoiled child being told they can't have a Lamborghini for their sweet sixteen.

"You want it now, sure, but you might not in the morning."

"Fuck the morning, I want it now." I'm all repetition and need. "Nothing else matters."

He has the kind of disarming smile a mother uses on her naive child who's made a well-meaning argument without having a damn idea what they're talking about. It makes me feel small. It makes me feel foolish. I probably am. Foolish, that is, not small. I'm a big dog. A big, drunk, frustrated, desperately horny dog.

I hear my own thumping heart, I feel the room wobble. He smells like the dance floor, like masculinity, his natural musk heightened by time, activity and sex. It might be off-putting if it weren't so sexy. He reaffirms his decision and I groan in non-specific dissent. I understand that getting rammed is off the table at this point, but I'm not happy about it. I still need.

I lean down and bite his shoulder. His grunt turns into a moan as I lap at the tiny, fresh teeth marks I just left. He moves his muzzle to mine and nudges me into a kiss as he pulls down his own underwear. I feel the freed monster within press tight between us, pulsing against my belly. When our kiss ends he tells me to suck it, that he wants to spray my throat white with his seed.

I tell him if he won't pound my ass then he better fuck my face for all he's got. He doesn't argue, instead snaps his fingers, orders me off of him and to my knees on the floor. Everything happens in one long, flowing, continuous moment. His paws settle on the back of my head.

"Open up."

I do as he says, and then his cock is so deep in my throat I almost choke. Holy fuck I needed this.

He pulls back, offers me time to catch my breath, I refuse it. I grip his hips and impale myself on his rod. He's moaning expletives and growling commands and calling me a well-behaved pup, a good boy, a sexy, chubby slut of a husky, a disposable cocksleeve, cumdump, whore. A prized possession, a flamboyant, easy fucktoy with less brain cells than limbs.

It drives me fucking wild.

He cums like he hasn't cum in weeks, like his only goal is to flood my insides with seed, and I swallow every last drop. I suckle at his tip as if it were my only source of water after a week spent wandering the desert. Long after he's drained my maw is still wrapped around that tap, trying to coax out another few drops of that life-giving liquid.

We end up back on the bed but I just can't keep my maw away from his dick, even as he tries to decompress and move on and level out, to talk to me on an individual level as if I were an equal. My ceaseless persistence makes him laugh, then seeing my own twitching rod he verbally offers a helping paw. I stop tasting his dick only long enough to tell him that his satisfaction is all I need.

Those words make his cock twitch, and in that instant I know he's mine. Fifteen minutes later I'm swallowing another load of his pups. I_still_ want more, but I've exhausted him to the point of passing out.

Barely conscious he tells me he should head back to his room. I wave away his concerns, nuzzle my head in between his legs and gently lap his balls as the giggling, half-awake wolf descends slowly to sleep in the middle of my bed. I turn the dimmed bedroom light off completely and shove a knotted sex toy up my ass in the en-suite, riding it until I've sprayed my load into the sink.

I clean up, put the toy away and, finally, Ifeelsated, if not entirely satisfied. Idrift off, snuggled up to Jay,with the distinct mental imageofFeather's bare buttand the firm belief that I'ma total fucking mess each foremost in my mind.