How to Catch a Train
How to Catch a Train by: Artide
Marcus moved past a large iron gate, eyes taking in the waning light of the station; the gleaming demi-city nestled between monolithic skyscrapers that reflected the glow and bathed the whole area in pith-light. Glancing down at his watch, he became more nervous; visibly confused and craning the smooth planes of his neck in fantastic shapes to try and see anything that would point him to the train he was supposed to take. The train station was a new area of the city, and in a way, a new adventure for him. The first journey of a thousand miles required the first step, and his footpaws trembled under the assumption.
He didn't know why he was so frantic--he could chalk it down to personality or hidden memories of nightmares, getting lost in the wilderness of machines too grand for expectation and fantastical realities. He ducked under the sign that surely was written in some foreign and exotic language. Nothing that complicated could possibly be written in English, even as he was aware of the words written on the sign, Marcus couldn't begin to understand them. He had to remind himself several times that the weight of his own fear would someday crush him. He struggled to remember the idiom - fighting paper tigers came to mind and he exhaled loudly to try and quell some of the anxious energy building up.
Glancing around at the station revealed the cast of characters; queer and decidedly dangerous individuals, pot-marked and loose-furred with an aroma far too poignant for his soft otter nostrils to try and comprehend. Had they not been so intimidating and rugged in a round-about way, he would have considered asking them and thought that maybe, ironically, his nervous twitching might throw him in the same category with these less than savory furs.
He gazed from one end of the track to the other, trying to discern if this was the way he was meant to go. The signs and maps meant nothing to him and he seemed to get even more scared as time progressed. This surely wasn't supposed to be this difficult, he reasoned, but with the confusing noises and senses that made him tremble from the tip of his ears to the bottom of his large, thick tail, it was a lot harder to concentrate.
He sat down with a huff on one of the park benches, wincing as the kinks from his back snapped against the hard, wooden surface. Getting as jittery as he did revealed more than his fair share of muscle soreness and stress. He stretched back, trying with unsuccessful results to calm down and think things straight. What was it the nice lady at the ticketing both had said to him? Train 402 would take him north and he would get off two stations and--it was just so confusing! Was he even on the right side of the tracks? Where was this train?
He moved his lutrine head, following the whimsical architecture of the buildings, taking in the spires of the small platforms and followed them over the tracks, where a small walkway had been built for safe crossing upon the tracks. He decided that he might as well see if anything on that side hadn't been translated into the confusing language of train-speak. Getting up and slinging the small pack he had with him over his shoulder, he walked towards one of the tall buildings that connected to the walkway and pushed against the heavy metal door as it opened with a groan.
Inside the air smelt stale and musty; the dust floating against the light pouring through small holes that were cut into the sides of the stonework to try and promote the feeling of not being entombed in a medieval prison. Marcus ascended the steps lightly, nervously; as if afraid the concrete stairs would suddenly give way, open up and swallow him whole.
The stairs wrapped around the tower of the train station and suddenly emptied out into the hall of the walkway. As the otter stepped forward, the meshwork barricades of the metal sent iridescent diamonds of sunlight to paint his light-brown fur. The walkway looked over the breathtaking sight of the terracotta-colored walls opening up before him, and the sights made his prior nervousness dissolve into wonder. The place was beautiful, bathed in the red-orange glow of the dying sun and soft diffuse. Marcus smiled a bit as he watched a train pull into the station, and with growing horror he realized the train had the number 402 painted in blue on the side.
"Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap," he muttered under his breath as he ran down the steps on the other side of the walkway, not bothering to take in the sudden feeling of being enveloped in the tower. As he spun down, grasping the strap of his bag with white-knuckled intensity, he went for an all-out sprint towards the open doors of the train. As he ran he failed to notice a brown coyote smoothly walk into his line of sight before he collided with a painful squeak, falling backwards and spilling the contents of his bag all over the ground.
The coyote gave a yelp of both surprise and pain as he tumbled down, rubbing his sore side and tail as he glanced around for whatever knocked into him. Spotting the otter lying haphazardly on the ground, he approached Marcus with a tentative paw, making sure the otter didn't knock himself out in the process. As Marcus groaned and pushed himself up, he stared up at the worried face of the coyote.
"Are you okay?" he asked, helping the otter up and using a paw to brush off the thin layer of dust clinging to the otter's fur. He tried not to notice how lithe and supple the otter's form was beneath his paw, and just tried to make sure that he wasn't hurt in any way.
"Yeah, I think so," Marcus answered, moving his paws over his body to help brush off the dust and dirt from his clothes. "Sorry about that," he murmured.
"Don't worry about it!" The coyote grinned. "Happens all the time."
"Really?" Marcus asked, lifting an eyebrow. The coyote's grin got wider.
"Well, no, but I didn't want you to feel bad."
Marcus scowled, but shook it off. It was his fault in the first place, he reminded himself. He was just trying to get onto his train...
With a jolt he looked up and remembered his train had been sitting at the station, and he started to swear under his breath, scooping up the contents of his bag. The coyote looked curious but bent down to help him collect his belongings.
"Late for a train?" he asked, trying not to be amused at how adorable the otter was when he was flustered. Or he suspected, anyway. Technically he had never seen this otter when he wasn't flustered.
"Something like that," Marcus said, trying to shove papers back into his pack hastily. He muttered a quick apology and goodbye to the coyote as he ran towards the doors. With even more growing horror he saw the doors slide shut in front of him, and the noise from the train pick up as it started moving. Marcus groaned dejectedly. He had no idea when the next train was going to arrive.
The coyote caught up with Marcus just as he spun around and deposited himself into a bench, a pile of worried otter.
"Tough luck," the coyote said, shaking his head. He took a seat next to the otter.
"Tell me about it. I have no idea when the next train is and I'm going to be late and I'm worried that there won't be any more coming and I won't be able to make it home and I'll have to sleep here like some homeless guy and this is my first time on a train station and--"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," the coyote said, trying to calm the panicking otter down. "Relax, it'll be fine. I take these trains all of the time; I can definitely help you out." Marcus looked up with renewed hope, his tail twitching in sudden excitement underneath him.
"You can?!" He nearly shouted. Finally, finally! Someone who understood this place and was neither gross nor creepy. In fact, this coyote seemed rather well built...Marcus shook his head; just happy someone could help him. The coyote nodded by way of answer, and Marcus inwardly cheered. "Oh thank you..." he frowned, suddenly realizing that the coyote had never divulged his name.
"Dustin," he said, holding out his paw. Marcus gratefully accepted it.
"Thank you, Dustin. My name is Marcus." The coyote shook his paw and nodded.
"It's no problem. So lemme see...train 402?" He glanced back at the schedule near them and shook his head.
"Tough break. The next train isn't for another hour and a half." At this the otter's whiskers drooped a bit.
"What am I going to do? Sit here for an hour and a half?" Dustin inwardly murred, thinking of some very productive use of that time with the otter. He was cute.
"Well, we can always talk. I don't have anywhere else to be tonight." Marcus considered the option. He really didn't have anywhere else to be, and he wouldn't mind getting to know this coyote...
"Okay," Marcus said after a brief pause. "Talk about what?"
"Well for starters," Dustin said, "Are you like fifteen or something? I mean, everyone knows how to read the train station maps..."
Marcus flushed bright pink at this. "Hey, I've never used a train station before, okay? So shoot me. This was my first time at one. Those maps are hard to read...And I'm nineteen," he added.
Dustin nodded thoughtfully. "So what brings you down here, Mr. Marcus Otter?"
Marcus rolled his eyes but didn't rise to the taunt. "Business. Or...schoolwork, really. I had to come down to the art museum downtown for some school assignment."
"Ah," Dustin replied. "You an art major or something like that?"
"Something like that," said Marcus, grinning ruefully. "I actually want to be an architect."
"That'd be cool. Maybe you'd get to design some of the buildings around here?" He motioned with a paw behind him at the large, almost overbearing structures. The otter nodded with gusto, clearly enthused by the possibility.
"What about you?" Marcus asked suddenly. Dustin seemed taken aback by the question, clearly hoping the game of 20 questions was going to be more one-sided.
"I...do odd jobs around town," he explained. "Just got done window washing one of the buildings around here." He motioned at his clothes that Marcus hadn't really taken in before: a faded blue overall that had seem more than its fair share of use. He looked up at the coyote's kind face and noticed that the fur was tinged pink in embarrassment. Instead of the ridicule Dustin was expecting, Marcus just nodded, serious.
"You do good work with your paws. I kinda envy that," Marcus thought aloud.
"I really sort of suck at the physical labor part, you know? Not that I'm not physical capable...just not very coordinated. Plus I get nervous easily." And Marcus couldn't help but think about how very nervous he was with this increasingly attractive coyote sitting next to him.
Dustin, for one, was touched that Marcus considered what he did was envious. He had always thought he ran crap jobs day in and day out, but never gave it much thought that he was doing something worthwhile. He stared down at the otter, speechless as the sunlight danced off the otter's sparkling eyes, and the sudden urge to swoop down and kiss him played through his head.
"I..." Dustin said, and he was suddenly extremely aware of how close he was getting to the otter's full lips, and the desire ran rampant to suddenly bite at those juicy lips, to make them bruised and swollen with passion. He inched closer, his breath hitching in his throat.
Marcus didn't notice how close Dustin had become until he could feel the coyote's breath parting his facial fur, and the smell of the yote's dinner ghosting over the otter's nose. As Marcus looked up and saw the coyote's muzzle start to descend, he shook his head, more nervous than ever.
"You...?" he squeaked, trying to change the conversation. Dustin looked down at him and, noticing how anxious and scared the otter had become, cursed under his breath. He pulled away from the otter, keeping his paws over his crotch and the slight bulge that had started to tent his overalls.
"I was just going to ask you if you wanted a drink. It is a bit hot out here..." Dustin sighed, narrowly dodging the bullet as the otter relaxed a bit and jumped back into the segue with rapid interest.
"Uhm...oh! Yes, anything's fine," he responded. "I like soda..." he hinted with a small smile, and the coyote nodded, trotting off to control the sudden arousal he had at the cute otter and to find the nearest vending machine.
Marcus, meanwhile, tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. The coyote was gonna kiss him! Kiss him. And what scared him the most was how much he had wanted it to happen, how much he wanted that coyote to pin him down on the park bench and slowly suck the air from his lungs. He had never really considered himself a gay otter, but having gone to an art school and had seen anything and everything, the possibility didn't bother him. It was confusing, these feelings, and maybe if the situation repeated himself he would just go for it; push the rest of the distance and close his maw around the coyote's and drown in the gorgeous brown fur. That desire suddenly made itself known in a very physical and very specific area of his body, and he blushed brightly, moving his pack over his crotch to try and keep some dignity.
It was then that the coyote decided to return, clutching two bottles of soda. Marcus took one gratefully and opened it up as Dustin resumed his seat next to Marcus and stared at the soda in his paws, deep in thought. Marcus shuffled away from him unconsciously, trying not to blush bright red in the situation. Here he was, on a bench in a train station with a hard-on for a strange coyote he just met. He weighed his options carefully: he still had over an hour left before his train arrived, and he doubted he could shake the coyote long enough to either calm down or take care of his problem.
Looking around for something to focus on other than the coyote next to him, his eyes fell across the bathroom signs a few feet away, and suddenly the otter got an idea so naughty it surprised him. He had always been such a conservative fur, but the awkward situation of revealing his current arousal to the coyote was just something he didn't want to face. He could go take care of his problem in peace, undisturbed by the object of his sudden and unexpected arousal.
"I...erm...have to use the bathroom..." the otter announced, making sure to stand up facing away from the coyote, who glanced up from staring at his soda to nod.
"You know where it is, right?"
Marcus nodded and trotted towards the bathroom, trying to ignore the hard arousal pushing roughly against his jeans.
Dustin sat down with a huff, trying to ignore how empty the sudden disappearance of his new lutrine friend made him feel. "God I fucked that up," he sighed, wanting to bury his muzzle in his paws and will the world away. If only he hadn't tried to kiss Marcus...and what was he thinking, anyway? The otter was obviously straight, uncomfortable in the situation, and removed himself as quick as possible. But he thought he had found a genuine friend in the otter, maybe something more...He had to apologize, to try and salvage this stranger otter's friendship, especially after the unexpected bout of kindness Marcus showed him. He owed Marcus that much.
"Ah hell with it..." Dustin said, standing up with renewed resolve. He was going to go apologize to the otter.
Marcus quickly made his way into the bathroom, and had to admit to himself that if the situation were different, this would be the last place he would choose to do...that sort of thing. Even with the his otterhood pressing needily against his jeans, he made a face at the state of the bathroom before moving into the nearest open stall and sat down on the covered toilet lid, pushing down his jeans and underwear to reveal his swollen otter cock. He was literally dripping pre.
The otter musk in the air suddenly turned him on more and he started to churr and pant with lust, causing another spurt of pre to make its way slowly down his shaft. Wrapping trembling brown paws to it, he slowly gripped the base, moaning as he felt the smooth texture against his paws. He slid his paw upward towards the tip, circling his digits over his head and collecting the pre that was running rapidly down the length. Otters tended to get very wet and messy, and Marcus was no exception. He ran his pre-filled paw down his shaft, lubing up the juicy ottercock before gripping firmly and starting to stroke in a smooth, slow rhythm.
The knowledge that he was doing this in a strange public place only furthered his arousal, and as his other paw reached down to trip across his swollen balls a kinky part of him wished someone else was in the bathroom to witness how naughty he could be.
Dustin chose this moment to open the door, peering around for signs of anyone here. As he looked around, he saw no one and his whiskers drooped a bit. Of course he wasn't here. Marcus probably just ditched him. He was about to retreat to the outside when a short whimper caught his attention to a stall door that was closed. Maybe Marcus hadn't left after all...
"Hey, Marcus...are you in here?" The otter's eyes shot open in surprise. He wasn't sure when he had closed them, but now he was looking around wildly for the source of the voice. Against his better wishes, his paws continued to move slowly up and down. He was still far too horny to give this up now and the fact that Dustin was only a few feet away from him made the same inner kinky part of the nervous otter spring to life with glee.
"Marcus?" The otter realized he would probably have to answer the coyote at some point. Or maybe he could continue to paw off and have the coyote mistake him for someone else. Even as that thought crossed his mind his mouth decided to form words.
"Y-yeah?" He continued to paw himself, his arousal at such exhibitionism skyrocketing his pleasure.
Dustin, oblivious to the pleasure of the otter, was wagging his tail at the answer. Marcus hadn't left him! He moved closer to the stall, trying to make sure the otter could hear him okay.
"Sorry, I just wanted to talk real quick..." he said, standing just outside of the stall door now.
It took a moment for the words to register in Marcus's mind, but by the time he figured out what the coyote was saying, he was still confused.
"Couldn't this h-have w-waited until I c-come back?" Or at least cum period... Marcus bit back a whimper at that thought, his paw starting to move faster across his slippery length.
"Heh, sorry. I thought you had left me back there," the coyote admitted. Marcus whimpered as his paws tripped over an incredibly sensitive spot.
"N-no..." Marcus said, suddenly finding it very hard to form words. Dustin perked one ear up at the sound but said nothing.
"Well...I just wanted to apologize for earlier...things got kinda intense and I didn't want to scare you off," Dustin said, a bit of worry lacing his tone. He didn't want the otter to hate him...
"S-scare me o-off?" Marcus choked out. If the situation were different he would have laughed, as he glanced down as his twitching, drooling cock. As if he was anything but scared! "I'm not..."
"Well...good..." Dustin said slowly. He took an experiment sniff in the air, and once he got past all of the usual smells commonly associated with the bathroom, he picked up on the intense aroma of what he could only describe as an otter in heat. Combined with the noises Dustin heard from the otter, he could tell that Marcus was definitely not scared of him.
Grinning wickedly, his paws groped for the stall door and found it to be unlocked. With an inhale for courage, he pushed open the stall door to reveal possibly the most arousing sight the coyote had ever seen.
Marcus was lying back against the frame of the toilet; underwear rolled down to reveal a thick otter cock gripping liberal amounts of pre, staining the brown fur of his paw as his stroked and caressed the hard otterhood. Marcus's eyes were half-lidded with arousal and as his other paw zeroed in on his nipples and tugged at them needily before dipping down to roll his sizeable balls around between his digits. His thick tail twitched and trembled with every upward stroke of his paw.
Dustin stared, the force of his arousal sudden and powerful; his knees threatened to give out from under him and he had to hold on to the door in his paws from trembling to the ground. After the initial shock wore out, he grinned sexily, shutting and locking the stall door behind him.
Marcus said nothing as the coyote barged into the stall. He was far too gone with arousal for the very creature standing in front of him to even care as Dustin quickly removed his shirt and pants to reveal a thick, swollen tube of hot coyote.
Dustin made no time in removing his clothes, setting them down on the floor behind him as he got down on his knees in front of the otter. He pushed the paw from the otter's orbs away and latched onto one suddenly, his thin muzzle wrapping around the fuzzy pouch to nip and suckle. Marcus's moans grew louder as his paw sped up, making a lewd slapping noise with every downward stroke.
"Oh god..." the otter panted, thrusting forward so the coyote had more room to maneuver his wonderful muzzle.
Dustin sucked on one nut before switching to the otter, taking his time to savor the otter's flavor like a fine wine or a succulent piece of candy. He slurped both into his mouth and held them there, tongue rolling and flicking up against the hidden jewels. Marcus's moans and pants grew louder and louder as he tugged at his cock, feeling his orgasm rise to the surface. Just a little more would push the poor otterboy to the brink of completion, and the hot treatment his balls were getting from the coyote only served to get him there faster.
Dustin could feel the otter's balls start to draw tighter; a definite sign of being close to cumming. Wanting to drive the otter over the final edge, he pushed his paw past the otter's balls and with the room he was given, gently pressed and prodded at the otter's tailhole. Marcus yelped at the added stimulation and arched his back, erupting with thick, long ropes of otter spunk that landed on the coyote's open muzzle and face. Dustin lapped up as much as he could and let the smooth and creamy texture of the cream slide down his throat. Smacking his lips lewdly at the taste, he grinned up at the otter.
Marcus panted above the coyote, drained and reeling as he came down from his orgasm. He looked down at the coyote: his muzzle still painted with thick lines of otterseed, and was too exhausted to be nervous or embarrassed about it.
"That was...uhm..." he started, but couldn't find the right words. "Wow."
Dustin chuckled from his spot on the floor. "I take it that felt good?"
The otter nodded, still at a loss for words as he slowly came down from reality. Part of him wanted to ask the coyote "why?" but as he saw the mirth and playfulness that lit up the yote's eyes he felt like he didn't have to. Maybe someday he would have a chance to talk to the coyote about all of this, but right now he was content to learn against the cool wall of the bathroom stall and just feel.
After a few more minutes of this Marcus sat up, craning his neck again as he heard the rumble of the train outside of the bathroom. Had the time passed that quickly?
The coyote was quiet for a minute. "Your train's here."
Marcus nodded and sat up, wiping himself off with some toilet paper. He lifted up his jeans and looked at the coyote longingly, not wanting to let the moment end.
"I'm here every day, same time," Dustin said, which Marcus made sure to remember.
"I'll be here tomorrow then," Marcus said. Dustin grinned toothily and sat up, wiping his muzzle clean with some toilet paper.
As they both left the stall, Marcus turned around and pouted. "I still don't know where to go..."
Lacing his paws between the otter's, the coyote grinned. "I can help."
***
A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, what you have just experienced was my first completed furry story ever and my first erotic story period. I am still getting used to everything here, so I thank you for taking the time to read this. It's been really interesting so far, and I can't wait for my other stories. Thanks so much, guys!