Castor
This short piece is the second chapter of something that I've got rolling around in my head at the moment. I'm just doing some writing for fun, but I'm okay with how this is coming along. I like the other character's (Cyril) perspective a lot more, so it is good for me to get a bit more experience writing from a purview that I may not be quite as comfortable with. The next portion of this story jumps back into the original character's vantage point, so it has flowed much better for me thus far, will post it when I'm done. Nevertheless, I'm pretty happy with how this came out.
The first part of the story can be found here:http://www.furaffinity.net/view/875...../#cid:60009218http://www.sofurry.com/view/424211
Note that there are graphic m/m scenes. I also did the rough sketch of Cyril below.
I think it was the gentle rise and fall of his chest that woke me. Sun filtered into my bedroom through the faulty lampshades that I had as of yet not gotten around to replacing. The light played patterns across the dark fur of the fox I held against my chest. I can't say that I have ever woken up with a complete stranger next to me in bed before, but we'd done... things, Cyril and I. We weren't really complete strangers anymore were we? He was a problem though, but what could I do about him? I have to admit that I like the feeling of his body pressed against mine. Morning finds my swollen sheath probing gently under his tail. I've got a deep burning desire to relive our misadventure from last night, the bedtime misadventure, not the other, but he's sleeping, and just the thought of the smash to the face that he got last night is enough to stifle my morning induced libido. He whimpers softly when I ease myself out of the bed so I tuck the covers in around him securely, and make my way to the kitchen a little smile clinging to my muzzle.
So if you manage to bring a hot guy home for the night, and your relations get um... cordial. What do you make for him in the morning? I run through the morning after Rolodex that I acquired through an overabundance of Hollywood films watched as an undergrad, and settle on omelets, that isn't too lame, is it? Anyway while cooking, I dart around the apartment trying to tidy it up and going a little crazy; I didn't anticipate a guest last night. Cyril's clothes go in the laundry mine follow, dust the TV, dust the windowsill, look at the mess on my small dining table in horror, freak out, shove the mess into a box and hide it in the linen closet, curse under my breath when I burn an omelet, take that one for myself, pay more attention to the next one. It's then that my ears perk at a rustling sound from the bedroom. I'd figured that the smell of breakfast might be a good catalyst to spur my guest from my bed.
"Good morning fox," I call as I set the table, "What can I get you to drink?"
"Sprite?"
It's a bit early for soda, but to each his own I suppose. I wave him over to the table and set a glass down in front of him, "Sleep well?"
"Yes, just not a morning person. This is good." He points at the omelet with his fork.
"Thanks," I say, surreptitiously turning my plate to hide the burnt portions of my meal.
It's silent for a moment, and I catch him staring off into space. I think that he's thinking about last night, not the good part. "How's your head."
"Couple shots of whiskey and I'll be right as rain."
Humor, that's a good sign. "So... what are we going to do, Cyril?"
The black fox's eyebrows rose, "We?"
"Okay then, how about, what are you going to do, and how can I help?"
"Help?" He tilts his head giving me a strange look, "Why?"
"Because I'm not in the habit of throwing people I've slept with out onto the street." That really isn't saying much considering the number of people I've slept with. If I'm honest, that list isn't long enough for me to have even started developing habits.
"You hoping to get lucky again tonight?"
He's got a naughty smirk on his muzzle that sends a jolt to my sheath. Be cool. "If you're asking to stay the night again, you may."
"Wasn't actually, but I'm not opposed to it. Want to go for a walk?" He gives his head a shake as if shedding water when he says that last.
"Um... sure, where to?"
"You'll see."
He kind of swishes when he walks, I'm not sure if he's doing it on purpose, but it's hot and I don't want him to stop. He tosses me a look over his shoulder licking his lips slowly as his stark blue eyes meet mine. "You coming Red?"
"Um... yeah," darn now I can't stare at his tail while we walk.
"Wait here a sec," he says and darts off of the sidewalk to the riverbank. Finding some visual clue he counts out several steps, and then gets on his hands and knees reaching around under the water. The view I get of his rear, and the thoughts of what I want to do with it leave me leering until Cyril stands up with a one of those vacuum-sealed bags in his paws. He rips the top of it off and pulls out a backpack. An emergency pack or something I think, but what leaves me unsettled is the fact that I just slept with someone who keeps an emergency pack in the river. What has he done that he thinks he needs one? The sly smile he gives me gets me thinking of the other activities that that muzzle was engaged in last night driving all of my errant thoughts away.
"Let's go."
My mouth's open. I snap it shut with a click and hurry after him. The urge to tug on his tail as I draw up next to him is strong, I resist it, but the urge to touch his with mine is stronger. He touches back, and we play tail tag for a minute, until I'm giggling like an idiot.
"Oh, good Starbucks!" He grabs my paw, and tugs me into the coffee shop, but it's okay because he gives me a smile too, "need icy goodness."
His idea of "icy goodness" is a tall ice coffee with milk, really? At the first sip he seems to come alive, and I'm suddenly with an equally hot, but entirely different fox. I've always said that it's coffee's nasty taste that wakes you up not the drinks caffeine. Granted my instructors at the university would be liable to completely flip if they heard me say that, unscientific hypothesis and whatnot.
"Come on I've got something to show you," Cyril grabs my paw and we're off again. I give nervous glances to the people we pass as we walk. I like Denver, it's a really tolerant modern city, and I like the feel of my paw in Cyril's, but... okay I'll be honest. I've shut myself so deep into the closet that you'd have to bring in a bulldozer and break it down around me in order to get me out.
"Hold up a sec," I say pointing at one of the strategically placed outdoor pianos that make Denver such a pleasure to walk around, "You listen to any classical music?"
"Oh yes, all the time," he says it quickly enough that I'm not sure I entirely believe him. But I take my place in front of the piano anyway; it frees my paw, allowing me to relax a bit. Beethoven relaxes me more, by the time I've finish Moonlight Sonata my heart has slowed the pace it had been beating at ever since I awoke. The smile I get from the black fox makes me think that maybe he does like classical music after all.
Anyway my paws are free. I'm enjoying the company and the walk, and the weather is perfect, so when Cyril asks me to sit down on a park bench and wait a moment for him I'm perfectly content to do so. He surprises me five minutes later with a bag of birdseed. Unfortunately for the pigeons, we ended up chucking more of it at each other then we spread out for them.
I've still got a goofy smile on my face when he takes me to this quaint little place called the Aqua Lounge for an early dinner. I've never been there, but I have heard that it is some kind of gayish bar. Cyril disappears again the moment we get seated, and this time returns with a bottle of imported wine. Apparently, he knows the bartender. In any case, it makes me feel special, and the wine makes me feel warm, and I want to bring this fox back to my place and relive last night. I definitely need to get his phone number.
"So what do you do for work?" The setting feels like a date, and it seemed like a date appropriate point of conversation, but to be honest, I just want to know why he was getting chased by a bunch of thugs last night.
"Lawyer." He says it with smirk on his face, "Everyone hates us until they need us, and then they treat us like some kind of blood sucking parasite. Of course that's what we are, but people could at least pretend that I'm a good guy."
"Aren't you a bit young to be a lawyer?" Not to mention that he looks nothing like what I would expect of a lawyer. From the mussed hair to the gaudy earrings he just doesn't fit the profile, but then maybe I've just got an idea of what a lawyer is supposed to be stuck in my head whereas the reality is much different. Dang it Hollywood!
"There are a lot of things about me that might surprise you." He says it quizzically. I tilt my head regarding him and trying to decipher any double meaning that might infuse his words, but as he leans in to pour me more wine I get a quick kiss. The kiss sends a jolt down my spine, and at first I'm grinning like a fool, but then I realize that we're in public and I start stressing out.
"Be right back," he says and saunters off hips swaying saucily. Watching his tail is mesmerizing me again. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I can't do it with a semblance of decency so I have to readjust myself.
A voice from behind me makes me jump half of the way out of my own skin. "You and your boyfriend make a cute couple."
"W-What?" Boyfriend! The voice comes from one of the waiters, a friendly looking wolf with a perpetually swaying tail.
"Yeah," he goes on, "Cyril comes around here often enough, but I haven't ever seen him bring anyone else with him. It's good to know that he's got someone to keep him tied down."
"He's not... well, we're not..." I take a deep breath so that I can say my piece, "We're just friends."
The wolf shrugs ambiguously, and just says, "Never looked at a 'friend' all starry eyed like that before."
Starry eyed! Boyfriend! It's not like I'm opposed to the idea of a relationship, quite the opposite actually. If anything running into Cyril and bringing him home with me the same night is entirely atypical for me. I like to take things slow. With Cyril it feels like I'm on ecstasy, and every moment is just part of the trip. The trip's been pretty good so far, especially that part last night. I'm getting hard again just thinking about it.
Which, naturally, is the moment Cyril comes back beckoning me to follow him with his paw. He leads me down a hallway, and then suddenly turns around grabbing me by my lapels and pushing me through a door.
We're in the bathroom, and I'm kind of freaked out, but he's leading and my body is just following along like a helpless waif. Next thing I know he's shut us into a stall, and my pants are on the ground. All I can think when he sits me down on the toilet seat, roughly assaulting the inside of my muzzle with his tongue is: Holy crap! I think I say it out loud a couple times. In fact, I can hear myself repeating it into Cyril's muzzle over and over like some kind of mantra. The words vanish when his paw finds my rapidly swelling sheath. Now I'm moaning into his muzzle. Oh God, I'm going to get pawed off in a bathroom like some, some... But I can't find the words. They're lost somewhere between the feel of his tongue and the motion of his paw. When he pulls his muzzle back and gives me a wink I know it's coming, but I still whine loudly when he wraps his tongue around my shaft.
A noise reaches my ears, and my brain screams at me to pay attention to it, but it isn't until the bathroom door slams that I suddenly remember where I am, and what I'm doing. I clamp both of my paws over my muzzle to silence my ragged pants, but Cyril picks that moment that moment to slide a slick finger, how the heck did he get it slick, under my tail. That's when I know I'm going to finish, regardless of who might be listening, and that it's going to be loud.
The whine that escapes from between my paws starts off low, but Cyril slides his finger deeper inside of me, and his teeth graze the top of my shaft, and I can't keep my paws on my muzzle anymore, and I don't care anymore either. I howl. I may be a fox, but I think that even a wolf would have been proud of what I did there.