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Okay, new chapter. Let me know how the character-building looks :) Taking your advice and trying to flesh out the main characters one at a time to make them both more likable and their trauma more understandable. Warning: Gay secks! Bleach your eyes, young people, and stay away! Comments and critique are very welcome :) Chapter 4: Past is Prologue * * *

Somewhere over Brazil, ten years ago

• * * His ear was twitching. Something was tickling him. Arlen snorted and, eyes still closed, half-asleep and lulled by the thrumming hypnosis of the jet's engines, shifted around in his seat trying to get away from whatever was poking him. Another twitch, more tickle. With a growl, the mercenary shot his paw up and back, slapping at the paw and the pen it was using to poke his ear. "Real clever, Sato. You learn that in Army Basic? Or did your mother teach it to you?" The silver-furred wolf behind him laughed, youthful eyes glittering in amusement as he prodded the sensitive bit near the base of Arlen's ear again, and got another awkward slap at his paw over the top of the airplane seat. "Not exactly first-class entertainment, I know, but I'm enjoying it." Arlen rolled his eyes and twisted around in the seat, coming more awake as he did. The hold of their air transport was stuffed to the portholes with lashed-down gear, everything from disassembled, packed away rifles to dry-sealed food packages that would hopefully handle a week of jungle wet and heat before starting to go bad. Not exactly the Ritz was the general consensus of all eight passengers. Then again, the mercenaries hadn't exactly been hired to go on vacation. "Well now that I'm awake, asshole, mind filling me in on whatever geekery you're up to?" Sato chuckled and looked back down to the notepad he'd been writing on between prodding the black tiger in front of him. "Oh, just figuring out what my uncle really wants from us this time. Its like a puzzle." "C'mon, you couldn't just make up some Sudoku or something? Seriously? The mission is an open-and-shut. We go into Sao Paolo, find this drug trafficker guy he doesn't like, and grease him. What's to puzzle about?" The black tiger dug around in the seatback in front of him, which disturbed the sleeping bobcat in front of him. The muscle-bound giant whapped his elbow into the side of the seat trying to ward Arlen off, puffing dust out of the rather less-than-standard material. Ignoring him, Arlen dug out another notepad, wrote 'K.I.S.S.' on it in block letters, and tossed it over his head and into Sato's chest. The wolf retaliated by throwing his pen at Arlen's head when the tiger stuck it out to look for a reaction, then dug out another pen and kept drawing lines. "Its never that simple. My uncle is Ryusato Goza, the Black Dragon." "Whatever." Arlen was rubbing the bridge of his snout and looking for the pen that'd bounced off of him. He needed more ammo to pester the wolf with. The flight had been twelve hours already, and his sore ass wasn't helping his bored head. Still, a bored head often led interesting places when Sato "Stevie" Goza started messing around with that dangerous thinking thing. "Okay okay I'll bite. If your uncle's such an amazing crime lord or whatever, why doesn't he send his own soldiers to deal with this? Why pay extra for outsiders, just to grease some two-bit asshole drug pusher in fucking Sao Paolo? I mean seriously, its not like Brazil has any lack of cheap hitmen to contract." "See? I told you there was more to it! You CAN think, Arlen!" The wolf grinned broadly and reached over the chair back to pat the tiger's head...Which led to his arm getting grabbed and yanked until his face was against the cushion, the two of them struggling over control of the wolf's wrist. "Fucker! Let me go!" Sato was laughing as he said it, though the struggle of his muscular arm was no less powerful for it. Arlen was grinning, and bit the wolf's paw playfully while holding it twisted and locked. "Shouldn't've taught me Aikido and then poked me. You know better." "Sonovabitch. Elbow-locked by a scrub-ass brawler like you." Arlen was about to comment, or maybe bite him harder, when a powerfully-built graying stag walked past and whacked them both on the head with a beaten old aluminum clipboard. Whap. Whap! When both mercenaries were rubbing their heads and paying attention a moment later, the stag fixed them both with his hard black-brown eyes. "You can get a room and fuck this problem out after we're done. Listen up." The stag stood up tall, straightening his jungle camo BDU as he did. "Listen up, you ignorant assholes! You all accepted the contract. That's good. I know we're from a couple of different parent companies, but our bosses have all agreed that I'm in charge of this op. Understood?" A small chorus of "yah's" and a few "hu's" came back to him from the hold. "For those of you, my name is William Buck. Make fun of me for my name and I WILL kick your ass so bad you'll wish Montezuma's Revenge was the worst of your problems." That got a few chuckles and nods from the four who didn't know him. Arlen smirked but kept silent, knowing the statement was only half a joke. Even if the buck was nearly twice his age, he knew his own five paltry years of military experience and four years as a merc weren't anywhere near enough to keep him going in a fight against that stag. "Mission is simple. We get into Sao Paolo, spend a few days finding the target, then re-assess. Once we've got our plan, we put him down, along with anyone who gets in the way. This is a 'residents expendable' mission. That said, I don't appreciate unprofessional behavior. We won't be killing for fun, only for profit, got it? It's the Wild West down there, but if we make too much noise, the ghetto will turn on us. I don't like being chased by rioting mobs, especially when they have AK's hammering at my ass." A few more nods, though no laughing this time. They all knew this part was serious. "Expected resistance is light. This little shit-bag should be an easy mark. Our biggest dangers will be the heat, local sicknesses, and the local drug cartels getting the wrong idea. Let's minimize all of those. Stay hydrated, take your damn tablets, and keep your heads down while we're there. In the crates behind me are all your gear, including costumes." The stag gestured at the crates, each labeled with a mercenary's name and his company's logo. In this case, a white wolf-head over a pair of crossed swords, one European and one katana; and a spread-eagled gecko with M-60's on either side of him drawn in black and white relief. "We'll walk to the safe house as a group once we're all dressed up. After that, we'll start scouting and figure out operational teams as needed. Wheels are down in an hour, so take care of whatever you need to. Once we're touched down, its game on, get it?" "Yes sir!" echoed through the drone of the hold. The stag gave an approving nod and walked back up the aisle and into the pilot's hold. "Hey, Blacktiger," this from a thick-maned burly lion across the aisle of seats and crates, "Your stag buddy there always put it up your asses like that before a mission? I think he hurt my feelings with that Sergeant York crap!" Arlen gave him an impish smirk and stuck out his tongue. "You Gecko boys just don't know discipline is all. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll learn." The lion glared back at him. Evidently he didn't have much of a sense of humor about off-handed insults to his group. "But if you want him to give you a good dicking before touchdown, better go ask him now. Should be just enough time!" The lion bared teeth at him, and made a rude gesture with his right paw that had Sato curled up laughing and Arlen giving back a fanged grin half of amusement and half of challenge. "Anyway, Sato..." Arlen turned back to his far more intelligent and interesting friend. "Isn't Ryusato your uncle or something? Why not just ask him?" "Ah...My uncle and father don't really talk or get along. Dad would be pissed if I went around him like that and talked to a client directly, even if its my own uncle. Especially if its my uncle." "Huh. Seems like every day I learn a little more about your dad's company...Even though I've been part of it almost five years now." Sato laughed, though it sounded more thoughtful than amused this time, perhaps touched with concern or sadness or...Something Arlen couldn't place that had him wondering and trying to figure out how to ask. "Stop thinking so much. It will hurt your head." Arlen snorted then, and, having located the previously tossed pen, tossed it up in the air to arc back and land on Sato. "Fine fine. Going to get another hour of sleep if you don't mind. Talk more on the ground, yeah?" Sato leaned over the chair and ruffled the tiger's headfur playfully. "Alright, talk to you on the ground." Landing in Sao Paolo's Guarulhos airport was bumpy, though given the fact they were technically flying as cargo, it wasn't much surprise. Still, the rattling of the wings in the heavy crosswind, its difficulty lining up with the landing strip, and the plane's slight skid as it landed before the tires really caught had Arlen thinking about whether or not he actually liked flying any more. All that was forgotten though, when he stepped off the plane to get blasted in the face with the punishing heat and close humidity that left him feeling like he was underwater. He felt overwhelmed briefly by the tall buildings rising like fangs and stretching away into the forbidding gloom and smog, and the sheer bustle of the swamp-aired airport. "Holy crap, lookit that. Thought South America was all full of shitty little towns..." "It is, Arlen, but this is Brazil. Sao Paolo's the second biggest metro area in the Western Hemisphere." The silver wolf pushed his shoulder. "Now get moving. The faster we get out of here, the faster we get back into air conditioning." "All right, you have your group assignments. Shield team, you'll be here at the HQ for now. Sword team, scope the area for good defensive positions NOT in this building, in case we come under attack and have to exfiltrate. Rangefinder team, you're with me. We'll be finding the target and figuring out a plan of attack." Buck was up on the last unpacked crate, filled with emergency rations, dressed in a half-unbuttoned linen shirt, Hawaii shorts, and sporting an "I'm a tourist, pick my pocket" camera hanging around his neck. Arlen and Sato restrained smirks behind soldierly demeanors as they stood to attention next to one another, in a grouping spaced slightly from two other groups of four. "As for you two," Buck said, "get our headquarters set up. We rendezvous in four hours here. I expect dinner from you two shitbirds." Arlen threw a crisp salute, and Sato just nodded his head. With that, the groups split to make for their assignments. Ten minutes later, the bedrolls spread out and windows properly covered in blackout cloth and duct tape, Arl took a look around. "Not bad. What do you figure this for? Gym or something?" Sato gave a half-shrug, while checking the chained padlocks on the two rear doors, and glanced down at the thin-plank light-colored wooden floor. "My genius brain tells me..." Sato closed his eyes and put his paws to his temples, in a mock 'psychic scan' motion. "Dance studio." "No shit? Pretty big for a dance studio. How do you figure it's a dance studio?" The silver wolf bent down and straightened one of the bed rolls primly, though it hardly needed to be spic and span for merc work. "Well, first look at all the little divits in the floor. Can you think of anything that would make those, other than high heels?" Arlen looked down, then crouched, running his heavy fingertips over a few little black marks, rubbing at them to see if they were just scuffs. Finding them not to be, he dipped a claw into one, just to see their depth. "Secondly, too many windows for an indoor sports area. The sun would be getting in peoples' eyes." Arlen looked at the long line of covered-over windows and grimaced. Too many entry points, Buck would say, if they hadn't been in mixed company with another mercenary squad. Wouldn't do for the stag to seem worried in front of outsiders. "And lastly..." Sato whipped his wrist, spun, and tossed a business card he'd found in the storage room, only to have Arlen catch it with a grin and uncrumple it to read. "Uh...Portuguese. You read Portuguese?" Sato smirked and padded towards Arlen, and fell into a base fighting stance when he was about ten paces away. "You don't? Sparring time. Standard rules?" Arlen looked around, making sure they hadn't missed anything. "You sure? What if they get back early?" Despite his protestation, Arlen cracked his knuckles and stretched momentarily before falling into a stance that was a near perfect mirror of Sato's, though more broadly based to take advantage of the black tiger's greater weight and muscle mass. "You worry too much. If they have a problem, they can say something. We can take them." Arlen laughed and shook his head. "Fine then. Winner chooses position, like always." Four years ago, Arlen Blacktiger had joined the Goza Securities mercenary company after leaving the US Army as a corporal. His recruiter, Captain Buck himself, had told him to be open-minded and prepared for new experiences. The Arlen of four years ago would have been shocked and disgusted to know his future self would one day be sparring with a pretty, silver-furred gay wolf over who got to choose what method of fucking they would be doing. He thought about it, trying to remember how this relationship had started, as a method of calming his mind as the two paced each other and held stance waiting for the other to move. Was it that thing in Mogadishu? No wait, we were already doing this before that. Um...The night the whole unit got drunk back in the States after that Costanza job? Wait no, that's right. It was the night we got that fucker who beat up his sister. Sato lunged forward, sudden like a whipping snake, and made a fast jab to test Arlen's center defense. The big tiger shifted his footing backwards in a slide of footpaws, blocked the jab with a twist of his wrist and arm to the side, and made for a powerful cross-body counter punch that had Sato dancing under his arm. A quick shift of balance and position avoided the swift knee that would have taken a slower tiger in the gut, and then they were backed off from each other again. The tiger grinned toothily. "You think you're topping tonight." Sato smirked right back, and gave a hands-lifted shrug that both said 'who knows?' and 'I'm open, come at me.' Never wanting to disappoint his friend and erstwhile lover, the black-furred mercenary advanced, leading with a high jab and following, as Sato ducked under it, with a straight-forward Army-style boot to the chest. Sato was a skilled fighter, trained since childhood, his family having been military since before Japan had been back in contact with the world. He twisted sidelong to Arlen and grabbed his leg under one arm, making to bring an elbow down on the upturned knee. In response, the tiger just dropped, sweeping his other leg out to hit Sato in the back of the legs as he landed. The wolf tumbled backwards, taken off guard by a tactic less conventional than Arlen usually employed in sparring. As he landed on the tiger's chest with his elbow, the thought that he ought not to underestimate his friend so much lasted about as long as it took for Arlen to ignore the elbow and wrap his arm around Sato's throat. Sato was, almost inarguably, a better combatant with a knife or pretty much any melee weapon. He was faster, more coordinated, and had better insight into his opponents. Arlen, however, was heavier and more powerful than the wolf, more inclined instinctively towards low blows and street fighting tactics, and far more dangerous in a grapple. A better shot with a rifle too, though that had little bearing on the sparring floor. Struggling for purchase, Sato drove a pair of elbow strikes back into Arlen's chest, knowing it wouldn't help. As his vision started to blacken, he reached to the floor and tapped out, tail trying vainly to wag against the big cat's thigh, pleased to have lost to an honestly smart move. The pressure released, and Arlen grinned, laying back on the floor with his paws behind his head as Sato rolled off him and stood up to rub at his neck. "Not bad for a half-ass brawler, eh?" "Dirty trick. Good!" The silver wolf laughed, arching his back in a stretch for his arms, before offering the tiger a paw up, only to be grabbed by the wrist and yanked down into a grapple less characterized by anoxia and more by warm lips and a wet tongue. "Pants off, wolfie. Missionary. I like watching your face when you get fucked." Sato chuckled and started dutifully shucking his pants, as the insides of his silver-white ears very visibly pinked. "You sure you aren't gay? Come stay with me when we get back to the States. It's a nice place, and then we can do this all the time instead of just out in the field." Arlen blinked at him, having not expected such an offer, and hesitated while sitting up. "Uh...Sato, I'm straight. You're the only guy I've ever even wanted to sleep with. I...Don't know that I can handle the idea of...Y'know...Being a real couple or something." The silver wolf kicked his pants aside and tossed yellow silk pokemon boxers along with them. He stood with his back to the tiger, tail twitched low and to the side just enough to show his low-hanging balls. He thought for a second, then looked over his shoulder with another of his trademark understanding grins. "Never asked to be. Just roommates who fuck every day. Give it some thought. You don't have to decide right away." Arlen snorted, and crooked a finger at the wolf to come back over, while undoing and being rid of his belt and cargo pants. "I don't see a difference." "Difference is in definition. For instance, we will now be fucking, not making love. Think about it when we're done, and see if you recognize a difference." Arlen rolled his eyes and reached up to squeeze the wolf's paw as Sato sat down in his lap, facing him. "You fucking Buddhists and your riddles." Sato stuck out his tongue. "You fucking hicks and your hang-ups." Arlen captured that tongue with his lips, and deepened the move into a searching kiss as his paws grabbed the finely toned ass in his lap. Working blind, thanks to being only able to see his friend's silver fur, he felt around with one paw and squeezed the shapely rear with another. The free paw found his little bottle of lube from inside the discarded utility belt, and was soon spreading it into the tight ring under Sato's tail, causing the wolf to arch. "Mm, thought you said missionary." "Sue me, we'll get there." Sure enough, as soon as the lube was properly applied, Arlen shifted forward, nuzzling into Sato's throat and giving it a scrape of his teeth as he positioned them both, the wolf's back on the floor and knees up so he could reach that warm place with his throbbing shaft. Sato shifted, getting as comfortable as he could on the bedroll Arl had maneuvered him to, letting his finely-combed bushy tail out to one side before lifting his legs up and wrapping them around the black tiger's powerful hips. The wolf reached between them, past his own throbbing maleness, to grasp appreciatively at the heavy, thick flesh pointing at his entrance, and guide it while licking his lips and giving an appreciative squeeze. Arl bit his lip and nuzzled Sato's cheek as graceful hands guided him into place, and he exerted slow pressure with his hips to enter the hot, squeezing tunnel. His caution got a light growl from the wolf, who reached down and slapped Arlen's ass. "You just knocked me down and choked me half unconscious and you're afraid to hurt me with your dick. Make with the fucking, damnit!" Arlen blinked at him, then tilted his head back to laugh. "You said 'fucking' not 'making love.' Right. Got it." Using his arms, braced on either side, to hold the wolf in place, Arlen jerked his hips forward and down, stuffing the wolf roughly full of dick, to the sound of Sato yelping out, gasping, and grabbing on with both paws to the big tiger's shoulders. "Fuck, more!" Grin turning to a grimace of pleasure and concentration, the tiger started pistoning into his wolf's ass, rolling his hips every few strokes to change the rhythm and keep Sato guessing. Mm...Tasty ears... The tiger closed his lips on Sato's ear, suckling and nibbling at it, tugging with his teeth as he ravaged the other man, spined cock tugging at his tender insides, plucking over the prostate and other nerves there, which caused the wolf to bite back a series of whines he muffled by putting his face into Arlen's shoulder. He was panting already, adrenaline combined from the spar and the sex conspiring to push him to more forceful thrusts, along with his lover's demands and demanding clenching of inner muscles. Arlen moved an arm to brace himself better, and used the other to reach between their slapping hips. He grabbed the bobbing cherry-red flesh there, teasing the tip with his fingers, before trailing them down to grab onto the knot. Sato gasped and writhed slightly, trying desperately to push down onto the tiger's cock harder and into his paw at the same time, and getting neither. The big tiger had him well and truly pinned, at his mercy, and was fucking him for everything he was worth anyway. It didn't take long for the silver wolf to start whimpering, licking at Arl's chin and begging. "Squeeze, babe...Let me...Mmf...Let me cum..." Arlen knew the wolf would never beg in any other situation, with any other man. His dignity wouldn't let him. He knew, also, that he couldn't punish the wolf by withholding whatever he'd ask. He knew, in that moment, that this was worth it. Moving in with him was worth at least a try, even if he couldn't reconcile the idea of being another man's boyfriend. So, he squeezed the knot in his paw, to simulate the tie his wolf needed. At the same moment, Sato's head jerked back and his mouth opened in a howl, his eyes dazed and lost in the haze as his cock spasmed once, twice, and then exploded, blowing a veritable river of watery wolf cum all over his tiger's paw and his own crotch, belly, and bunched-up shirt. Feeling the spasms all over his cock and all through Sato's body, Arlen snarled out a tiger's mating roar, and brought his muzzle down on the other fur's shoulder, clamping down hard enough to draw blood, as his shaft swelled and his balls drew up, blasting out his pleasure in sticky, rich gushes. Half a minute and all of an eternity later, Arlen lay with his stomach to Sato's back, holding him with one arm and giving his knot rhythmic squeezes with the other paw to keep milking the wolf's knot-lengthened orgasm. The wolf squirmed each time, letting out little shots of semen, and little yelps of pleasure. "Sh-shit...Let me...Nn...Stop c-cumming, damnit..." Arlen nibbled his ear tips and grinned against his cheek. "Just relax, love." A gentle kiss to the wolf's neck, and a squeeze with the embracing arm. "We won't get to be alone much on this job once the others get back." Sato whimpered but made no move to get free, enjoying this all too much, the only situation he could allow himself to be submissive in. "I love you, Arlen." The black tiger was shocked and, for a moment, unable to respond. So he gave the knot another squeeze to get another mini-orgasm out of the wolf, and grinned watching him squirm. "Love you too, wolfy."