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Rain hammers into the farmhouse, the sound reverberating throughout the bedroom. Alan perks his big, serval ears. "That's something to do, Blake. Let's go!"

"Whaddaya mean 'go?'" The snow leopard asks as he sinks into the bed. "We can't go anywhere in this weather."

"You just said you're bored." The serval attempts to drag his friend off the bed by the crook of his elbow. "So let's go play in the rain."

"Bored doesn't equal 'I love freezing to death.'" Blake pulls his arm away when he begins to slide from Alan's efforts. "And I only have so many clothes"

"We'd take our clothes off dummy!" The serval yanks on Blake's arm again, and this time the leopard slips off the bed, landing on his feet.

"Geez, fine. But only if you help me dry off."

In the brief lapse of vision as Alan lifts his shirt above his head, his friend stripped completely. "That's the spirit!" The serval exclaims as he rushes to catch up. Instead of going out the door, Blake watches him. Shyness has never been more than a myth to him, so he disrobes as fast as he can without tripping over his boxers.

Once outside, the leopard lingers under the overhang of the porch. While Alan is frolicking through the grass. "Come on. It's no fun by myself."

"I don't see how it's fun at all."

The serval runs up to his friend and hugs him, short and sweet. "There. You're wet now, so you've no more reason to be a buzzkill."

Blake nearly follows Alan into the rain before stopping himself. "Rewarding me for not doing what you want seems a little counterintuitive."

"Awwww, the sourpuss wants more hugs?" The serval stretches his arms out towards his friend while backing away. "I have an all you can hug buffet. All you gotta do is come get it."

The leopard steps back then races forward. Jumping off the steps, he lands where Alan was a second before.

The serval zigzags around. "Too slow, little kitty!"

"I'm twice your size!" Blake pounces again, earning water and air in his paws.

"Doesn't seem to be doing you any favors." Alan extends his arms like before, slowing his movements.

"It will soon enough." On this lunge, the leopard snags Alan's retreating paw and they both tumble into the ground. The serval lands on his back, allowing Blake to get up faster and pin him. "Got you!"

"What kind of buffet do you throw into the dirt, you oaf?"

"The kind where my prey is still alive." Clamping his jaws around the serval's neck, the leopard play-bites.

"Fancy yourself a predator, huh?"

Blake twists his head around continuously.

Broken up with laughter, Alan says, "Stop...that tickles...I thought...you wanted a h...hug not to give...me a hickey." The weight on him lessens and his knee jerks into the leopard's stomach, throwing him off of him.

The rain showers him once more, making him miss Blake's warmth. Shaking that thought off, he leaps to his feet and prances underneath the cover of a tree.

"Geez, you didn't need to hit me that hard." The leopard stalks his prey. "I only wanted to eat you."

"What are you now?" The serval hides behind the tree. "The big, bad leopard?"

"Big is right!" Blake chases him around and around the tree. After tens of revolutions, he snatches the serval's tail.

"I give!" Alan stops, holding his paws up in surrender. "Don't yank my tail."

The leopard hugs him from behind, warming him more than before. His paws initially brush the serval's sheath before correcting to his chest.

After the allotted time passes for a friend-hug, Alan says, "I think you can let go now."

"'All you can hug' means all day."

"That's kinda gay, but..." Why return to the cold? "Okay."

After a while, Blake's arms aren't enough to keep the bite of the wind away. So the serval presses back, only to have the hug disconnected altogether.

"I've had my fill," the leopard spurts out, nudging him forward.

The whole way back inside, Blake follows behind Alan. Difficult to make conversation that way so they're silent. They track water all over the floor on their way to the bathroom. Which is fine; Alan's parents are gone for the week so they don't have to clean until Monday.

When the serval grabs a fur dryer, Blake asks, "That's all ya got?"

"What more do you want?" Alan turns it on and works on himself.

"My family has a full-body one." The leopard points the fur dryer into his coat. After a few seconds, he takes Alan's paw onto the patch of fur, enveloping it. "This does nothing."

"It's not drenched anymore."

"Still too wet to put my clothes back on."

The serval shrugs and finishes drying his front. He almost does his back side too before he remembers Blake's condition that he agreed under. After helping him, he should reciprocate, and it'll be faster.

The leopard's upper body is more tedious than the serval's lower and upper combined. Upon completing his legs, there's only one other thing on his front. Alan glances up to receive a nod. The underside is a bitch to reach; mine's still damp, he thinks as he lifts his friend's sheath into the heated air. He takes longer with this area since his paws refuse to hold still. It responds, but that's natural, so he doesn't mention it and motions for him to turn around.

His backside is much the same. Except his tail could be classified as a whole new side for as long as it takes. The long rope of fluff refuses to stop flicking around in his grasp, to the point that it has to be purposeful.

Finally his turn, the serval passes the dryer and spins around. Blake must be unused to operating the handheld type since he takes forever. Maybe he's copying what was done to him, even though the serval has shorter fur. His legs get disproportionate attention, even considering that he's all legs. His stubby tail, too, is played with instead of dried.

Blake sets the fur dryer on the vanity, then asks, "You mind if we both stay naked? If I was the only one, it would be awkward"

Another myth to Alan. "Sure, I'll just turn up the thermostat," he agrees, exiting the room.

"No need, I can keep you warm."

"The buffet is closed I'm afraid." The serval shoots the leopard behind him a playful glare. "Unless you wanna go back outside."

"We can wrestle inside." Blake enters the bedroom.

"My mom would kill me." Alan pads to the living room instead. Once he's dialed up the heat, he finds the leopard in his bed. "You just want to laze in bed all day."

"That's what summer's for."

The drumming of the rain and the smell of wet fur permeates the serval's senses as he considers what to do with the day. The rest of the week for that matter. He enjoys Blake's company, and he's never made such fast friends with someone. But this is their first sleepover and all the leopard wants to do is watch movies in bed. Despite not wanting to break anything, roughhousing is more appealing.

Alan clears his nightstand and headboard of anything fragile with curious eyes watching him. He crouches to set a lamp on the floor of the far side of the room. In the same motion, he springs across the room and atop his friend. "Ha! I'm on top now."

Blake doesn't fight back, letting his arms be held above his head. "Yes you are. What are you going to do with me?"

His muzzle is too small and the leopard's neck is too thick to play-bite the same way. So he goes for the tiny ears. In response, he hears a breathy exhale. He pulls back and says, "Hey, you're not supposed to be enjoying this."

"Do it harder then."

Complying earns Alan a moan and his paw is guided down their forms. He resists the motion. "What are you doing?"

Wrenching his other paw free, Blake smirks. "Initiating before I lose my mind." He starts to tug Alan's muzzle into his, but the serval hops off of the bed.

"I'm not gay!" Alan declares, running his back into a wall.

"Brady said you might be bi."

"He's an idiot."

The leopard throws his legs over bed, sitting on the edge. "And all you do is flirt with me."

"Name one time."

"Inviting me to sleep in your bed for a week; suggesting we get naked together; trying to push back into my erection during that hug." Blake tosses his paws in the air and continues sarcastically, "And, I don't know, maybe I'm reading into this too much, but you did grab my junk with only a second's thought."

Shuffling his feet, the serval wishes awkwardness stayed a myth. "I just like to mess around."

"Oh, he wants to mess around alright." The leopard points to Alan's sheath. "He's been peeking for a while now." Alan covers himself as shyness asserts itself into his reality. "Not that it's just you." Blake gestures to himself.

"Holy fuck!" Against his eyes' desire, the serval looks away. "You better not be planning to stick that monstrosity in me."

"I was hoping to. But, mister flabby ears, I'm open to suggestions."

Is he going to do this? Ever since Amelia moved away, he's been pent up. So he could write his arousal off as that. But why? It's not like there's anything wrong with being gay, he simply didn't think he is. The thought of a dick being up there or anywhere in him (especially one that big) makes him cringe. With the roles reversed, it couldn't be much different than doing it with a woman, right? "Can I..."

"There's lube in my duffel if you don't have any." The leopard lies back. "Do whatever end you like."

Grabbing the bottle out of the top of the bag, Alan mutters, "You really thought I was coming on to you."

"Your opening line to me was 'what's up, pretty kitty?'"

"No it wasn't." The serval saunters to the bed. "Not to say that you aren't." The leopard's black spots contrast his white in the same way the fur on the serval's stomach does-his better-looking side.

As Alan climbs over him, Blake twitches ears like he knows they are the cutest thing about him. "Would it be outrageous to say you're coming on to me now?" He laughs at his own joke.

"Shut up."

"Make m-"

The serval kisses him, scritching his ear with his free paw. Blake's lips part for Alan's eager tongue. Underneath the pizza they ate earlier, there's a masculine taste that was absent in his other experiences. It urges him deeper, and tingling races down his spine.

He can't get enough, so it's Blake that breaks away. "Hurry up and decide what you're doing with this." He taps the bottle in the serval's paw.

Alan pours lube into his palm then flicks his eyes downard. Shame flows through him as their cocks hover in front of each other. Fucking society, I've nothing to be ashamed of. He slathers his member and feels up his friend's-his boyf-his he'll-figure-it-out-later's cock, unable to wrap around it with one paw. And one stroke requires twice the movement than if it were his own. Which, when ground against it, looks like a miniaturized copy. They have the same pink color, barb placement, and feline shape.

"For a straight guy-Oh fuck!" Blake moans as their barbs bump into each other. "You're, um, appreciating my dick a lot."

"What can I say?" Battling with himself, the serval finishes, "You've got a nice dick."

"You do too, so please." The leopard rolls over, his poofy tail dancing in the air. "Just prepare me a little first."

Paws gliding down Blake's back, Alan appreciates his uniform beauty and the heat radiating off of him. When he reaches his waist he follows the tail up, jealous of the silkyness. His dick voices its impatience with a spray of pre onto the leopard's cheek. He spreads them and he drools into the crevice-he's always had a problem with drooling. Though the sight of an eager hole isn't helping.

He pours lube onto it and spreads it around the ring. Taking the squirms as encouragement, he sinks a finger inside.

The serval explores the scorching tunnel, then pauses. "Do guys have a G-spot?"

"Basically. Deeper," the leopard accomplishes that himself, "and up. No, other up. Yeeeeeeah, fuck, right there."

Noting the position, Alan shoves another finger in. He avoids the G-spot thrice before nailing it with the help of a third finger. A drawn out moan followed by panting is the result. The leopard is ready, but something is missing-something that he's never yearned for.

"Can you face me? I want to see your-"

"Say no more." Blake flips onto his back. "I know how my eyes sparkle."

The rain has stopped, the clouds have parted, and a ray of sunlight reflects off his friend's-his whatever's pre-soaked dick. Gorgeous as the leopard's azure eyes are, his cock is what actually sparkles. The serval swirls a thumb around the urethra. The next thing he knows he's lapping up the bitter, musky flavor from the source.

"You really love my dick. You sure you don't wanna?" Blake bucks his hips. "After this, I mean."

Alan would now consider his muzzle, but he says, "No way," then silences any protest with a kiss. He forgot to swallow his excess saliva so, when the leopard opens his mouth, it pours down his throat. Most partners get annoyed by that, however, this one swallows and collects more from his mouth.

Despite them being the same height, the serval's member is nowhere near where it needs to be. So he pulls his muzzle away and slides down. Blake spreads his legs for him and shifts a little so that his tailhole is accessible. The serval prods at it and is enveloped by the fiery muscle. He intends to miss the G-spot like before, but the tunnel clenches and they both cry out. Right it's all flipped around. He adjusts before hilting into the leopard.

Blake intercepts the paw reaching for his cock. "No touchy. I'm too close as it is."

The serval has to play with something while he acclimates to the heat. So he plays with the sack below, fluffy and soft like the rest of him. Each testicle fills his paw so he alternates which he rolls in his palm.

"Enough with the teasing."

With his body making the same complaint, Alan inches out and back in. He stays at that pace and the scent of the leopard's growing arousal drowns out the chamomile shampoo that he borrowed. The musk surrounds the serval, driving him into a faster rhythm. He remembers to aim and the mewl encourages him further. He stretches his muzzle out and Blake reads him perfectly. He arches his back and bows his head, allowing the serval to nibble on his ears.

"Harder!"

Unsure which Blake's referring to, Alan's nibbling becomes biting and his thrusting becomes railing. Or maybe the leopard's talking about himself; his clenching becomes so fierce that the serval's barbs have to cut their way through. Each time Alan has to fight off his climax and shoot pre instead.

He switches his hips to autopilot and focuses on the adorable ears before him. After he soothes the one he's been biting with licks, he clamps down on the other. A squeak rings in his ears. He licks the second ear, then, with his free paw, he lifts Blake's muzzle into a kiss. Which the leopard dominates as Alan pumps his giant cock and drills his ass.

The tongue flitting in the serval's mouth goes slack, the dick in his paw throbs, and the vice around him turns iron. Lost as he is, he figures out why only when the smell of cum strikes him. He slams in once more and collapses into plush chest fur. Euphoria courses through him; he attributes the doubled intensity to the lack of a condom preventing him from flooding the fuck tunnel. Each jet ecstatic with its new home and urges its friends to follow. When his balls groan with effort, they turn into dribbling, but are no less satisfying.

That contentment spreads as Alan melts into the leopard. On instinct, he purrs, nearly drifting asleep.

"You lied to me," Blake deadpans. "That was kinda gay."

Begrudgingly ending his purr, the serval shouts, "You're ruining the moment!" Alan tries to pick himself up only to realize the leopard's cum has glued them together. So he forgets about it and cuddles into the fluffy coat.

Before Alan can get his rumbling going, the leopard jeers, "Now you're having 'moments' with a boyfriend. That's pretty gay."

"Would it kill you to shut up?"

"Yes, it would. 'Cause the only way that would happen is if I were d-"

Rain patters, then roars.

"Even the sky can't stand you." The serval drags his boyfriend off the bed with him. "Now, we're going to take a nice, natural shower."

"Geez, fine. But only if you fuck me like that again."