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Humbly Presenting

A Story

Walk With Me, Not So Close

Disclaimer: I own any and all parts of this story, including plotline, characters, and their backstories. They are copyright to me, and any use of or copying of any elements just described would not only be very rude unless you have my permission, but also slightly illegal.

This story contains acts of male on male faggotry, and if you do not like these kinds of acts, I suggest you leave unless you wish to expand your etrotic palette.

Chapter One: Who Knows What I'm Doing? I Sure Don't

Reidan

My heart is still racing a little from my recent jog, and I hastily wipe the tears off of my face before anyone sees. I look around the classroom, quickly realizing it's empty, and scorn myself softly. It's small, as are most of the advanced classrooms, and there are neon yellow sticky notes on most of the desks. On the board, written in elegant scrawl in dry erase marker, is a message to the students.

Dear Students,

Please find the sticky note with your name on it on one of the desks in the room. This will be your assigned seat. Thank-you,

Devon Taylor

I'm the first one here, having literally sprinted to the classroom before the bell even rang, leaving that panther, Allen in the libra...

An uncomfortable feeling rattles around in my chest. Thinking about that cat makes me feel strange, awkward. A mixture between desire for friendship and an uncanny fear of him for who he is swirls around in my chest, light as a feather yet as bulky as a boulder; it feels like it's just slamming around in my chest cavity, trying to seek a way out yet finding none.

I resolve to not think about Allen unless I can help it. Fortunately, he's a jock, and jocks are not famous for being smart, are they? Not with my experience, so I doubt that I should see him in any of my other classes. I make sure to be in as many good classes as I can get. Not only does it give me a natural avoidance of most jocks, but it also helps quench my insatiable thirst for knowledge and facts, including the arbitrary and useless.

My first period, the classroom I'm in now, is an AP Language and Composition class, and I have no idea what that means. Hopefully it will be creative writing, but something about the classroom makes me unsure that creative writing is the prime subject matter. There are odd busts of assorted famous authors all over the room, and not the good kind. People lik--

The loud, high pitched siren of a bell jolts me out of my thoughts, signaling that classes will be starting in five minutes, and signaling that if you want to get to class on time, you'd better get moving.

I look around the desks, searching for the telltale sticky note that has my name on it. There it is, in the back of the room, in the corner, and I couldn't be happier with my placement. No one behind me to tap on the bottom of my desk with their footpaws, and only three people situated in the desks right around me to prove as a distraction instead of the usual five or eight.

I slip my backpack to the floor and sit down, somewhat smug over how I always seem to be lucky when it comes to seating arrangements. I start looking at the three desks around me to see if I recognize anyone who would be sitting near me for the forseeable future.

The first name I don't recognize, so I don't bother to remember it. The person sitting in front of me shall remain forever nameless. To me, at least.

Students slowly began to coalesce in the classroom, coming in one by one, no groups of students coming in yet. That's a good sign; it means that there aren't any chummy-chatterboxes yet, at least, not until everyone gets more acquainted with each other. Excluding me, of course. I don't talk very much.

I lean my head over to the chair diagonally across from mine and inspect the sticky note. I recognize the name, but it's not worth remembering anymore. The owner of that name used to be my best friend before they betrayed me. It's unfortunate really. I had liked them.

I sigh and flick my black tail, annoyed. Who knew five minutes took so long? The other students, there were only six or so of them so far, look around the classroom and start to find their desks. Once they were situated, they start rifling through their backpacks, looking for something purely for the excuse to move their paws as they nervously await the arrival of the other students and the teacher. I always wondered why I never developed that habit. Maybe I wasn't hugged enough as a kit.

I start thinking about the teacher.

What kind of name is Devon anyways? It seems so androgynous, and I cannot determine if the owner is male or female, really. Only the loopy handwriting in cursive on the whiteboard gives me a hint, and it hints towards a female. I'm the only male I know of who uses cursive as his primary method of writing. Although I do freehanded calligraphy every once in a while, when I'm feeling particularly elated.

My ears swiveled towards the source of a few loud guffaws of laughter coming from the hallway, quickly approaching. The rest of the students must be coming, I think absently.

Lo and behold, I'm correct. Students simply start pouring into the classroom just as the one-minute warning bell dings monotonously.

I recognize a few of the voices, and I hear one in particular that sends a quivering spike of cold through my chest, right through my heart. I shiver as my fur raises a tad as if I have goosebumps, and my tail floofs out a bit. Please no, anyone but him...

A muscular, tall panther saunters through the doorway, having made friends with absolutely everyone coming through the doors already. Obnoxious. Lowering my ears, I hope that he won't see me, and I carefully glance out of the corner of my peripheral vision to try and look at the sticky note attached to the desk on my left. My eyes strain to make out the loopy handwriting on that tiny yellow sheet of paper. It reads the name I feared, and instantly that feeling of light as a feather, bulky as a boulder, settles itself in my chest, knocking around like no-one's business in tandem with my heartbeat.

Allen scans the classroom, reading the message on the board and instantly starting the search for his desk. Immediately, people start to swap desks, taking their sticky notes off and reattaching them in the desired location so they could sit where they wanted, with their friends. Why didn't I think of that!? I could have avoided sitting next to Allen! Although, I bet everybody would change seats with him if he asked them nicely. How is he already so chummy with all of these furs?

My sticky note is still face-up on my desk for all the world to see, and I quickly snatch it off the smooth surface, as if hiding it could really make a difference. If only it were that easy.

Allen walks through the aisles of desks, his tail swishing somewhat hypnotically as he scans the notes for his name. Can a minute really last this long!? I'm pretty sure it should be over by now! Someone call the Time Police, because this minute's out of time [/cliché]!

As if on cue, Allen plops right down into the desk next to me just as the bell pulses out its single-note cacophony of a siren. I continue my attempt at being invisible.

It's kind of hard to do that when there's only one other Siamese cat on campus, and she's female. And in the classroom. And making kitten eyes at Allen.

Luckily for me, Allen is too preoccupied talking with the four other people that border his desk for him to notice me. It's only when the teacher comes in, turning out to be a male sheep with a very strange wool-do, and starts reading names off of his roll sheet when everyone actually falls silent.

One by one, names come after each other like the subtle sound of waves lapping at a beach. One after another. And then the small wave that was my name crashes softly against the shoreline of desks, then slowly draws back. Silence. The wave comes again, as if the ocean did not love it anymore, and regurgitated it. Silence.

One last time, the small wave crests and splashes the shoreline of students. I can't be invisible anymore, I guess. He'll just mark me absent.

"... Here," I say solemnly. "I'm here..."

Allen's head instantly snaps to his right when he hears me speak, and his eyes might have widened as he did so, but I don't care to look. The small shoreline is no longer lapped at by waves. Instead, it seemed like the water was being sucked back towards the ocean, a precursor to a tsunami.

"Thank-you, mister Zanfis, I can see you decided to join us today." The sheep-man calls out to me, somewhat loudly. He must have thought I was asleep. Ignorant fool.

"Well I tried to get here early, but you weren't here. I decided to doze until you got back. Not my fault if you being here is just as exciting as you not being here at all." My mother said I was good at acting, and I made sure that I had on a cocky half-grin and one of my black ears raised above the other. My efforts grant me a few chuckles from the class, maybe I can pull off the happy-funny cat after all and get away with some friends before it all falls apart. Friends would be nice... I wonder what it's like, having someone who's got your ba--

"Mister Zanfis, are you paying attention?" The sheep interrupts my thoughts of friends and instantly my expression sours as I chase away the happy, butterfly-like thoughts with a silver spike and a wooden bullet. Yes I know they're reversed, sue me!

I cough. "Wh-what?" My confounded expression gets a few more laughs.

"I said, 'I could get you a pillow, if you like.'" He reports, somewhat annoyed. I decide to make him look like an idiot.

I guffaw. "I could just shave you and use that for a pillow, so no thanks. Besides, I don't know where your pillow's been, while your wool looks very clean and sparkly. You could have been biting the pillow for all I know!" The class falls quiet. I went too far.

Mr. Taylor actually bursts out laughing, and I think I share a moment of confusion with the class. "Hahah! I can assure you, while I have done my share of pillow-biting, the pillow I'm talking about is still a virgin! If you ask me nicely though, I'll give it to you so you can finally get yourself 'laid' down on it!" Ouch. Pillow-burned. With a pun.

The class lets out a few laughs out of pity, I think. It takes a bit of effort to pull off a pun like that...

I've completely forgotten about Allen's eyes on me, thank goodness, and it stays that way throughout the rest of the class period, my instinctual humor kicking in to save my ass from embarrassment. Mr. Taylor and I keep a light and witty banter of repartees going back and forth during random intervals during the class until the bell rings. I'm closest to the door, and I bolt out of there like my ass is on fire. Truth be told, if it wasn't, my face sure was from laughing so much.

But as soon as I get far enough away, my mirth dies and I trudge over to my second period before Allen can find out where I went.

I have this thing about me, and I don't have very much control over it. Whenever I'm extremely nervous, or maybe even afraid, I start making jokes. Not entirely appropriate jokes, but jokes nonetheless. I don't know why I do it, if I had to guess, I'd say that it's an attempt to make people stop paying attention to me, and instead to pay attention to what I'm saying. It worked on everyone else, but I doubt I had Allen fooled.

Allen. If he wasn't a jock, I think he and I would be good friends...

I mentally slap myself. I'm thinking crazy. He just wants to get under my skin and know what I'm about so he can use it against me. Avoid him at all costs. Period.

I get through my second period class just fine, it's US History, and the teacher likes me quite a bit. No mishaps here.

The bell rings again after an hour of US History, and it's on to my Physiology class.

And who else to be there, other than Allen? I silently groan as my paw, absently reaching for the door handle, lands on top of his warm, silky black-furred paw. I jerk mine away with a mental 'eep!' and try not to look at him. This is bad, this is very bad, I'm cornered. I start looking anywhere, everywhere, to try and not look at him, when my eyes grace upon the single letter and number combination that identifies the classroom, generously painted on the door. A memory comes back to me, causing my eyes to widen at my impeccable luck. I had this classroom for my English class during Freshman year... and there's a back door to it! Thoughts whirling, I think up a plan.

Allen must have caught me staring at the door, and so I quickly cover my small blunder, reflexively acting scatterbrained and facepawing myself.

"Whoops! Wrong classroom. That would have been embarrassing if I had gone inside and waited for the bell. Just think, first day of school and I show up to the wrong classroom? Ugh I'd never hear the end of it! Thanks for making me notice! Bye." Acting so quirky makes me want to gouge my eyes out, but there's no time for that. I hurriedly turn on one foot and stride purposefully down the hall before he can ever hope to respond. His eyes bore into my back as I go, silently accusing me, but I don't look back. I turn left and disappear from his view.

I go down the hall a ways and then turn left again. It's a small staff parking lot, and I spy the door that leads into the classroom that is my destination. Yanking open the door, left thankfully unlocked by whoever now uses the classroom, I hurriedly duck inside.

Allen's not inside yet. If I had to guess, he's probably waiting for someone - possibly me - to turn the corner and meet him there. I silently thank the evil sadistic mastermind who rules over us all for this moment's reprieve. The classroom is filled with slate-topped lab tables, each able to seat two students comfortably in the free-standing chairs, or possibly even three if everyone didn't mind the close quarters. I mind.

In between second and third period, the students have a ten minute break before they need to be at their next class. Most students use this time to socialize, but I don't. I have no one to really socialize with in the first place. Taking the seat closest to the door that I came in through, I absently take out my pad of blank paper and my assorted pencils. With a small amount of pressure, I begin drawing circles, over and over again in the same spot, to limber up my wrist. I do thirty going clockwise, and thirty more counterclockwise, before I start doing figure 8's in the same fashion. For thirty of those, the top loop is clockwise, and for thirty more, the top loop is counterclockwise.

Satisfied that my wrist is now limber, I flip over the paper and draw a single, curved line. And then another, and another, until what I have is roughly anthro-cat shaped. I'm totally not paying attention as to what I'm drawing, I'm just spacing out and letting my left paw wander with my pencil in its grasp. Yes, I'm left-pawed.

My mind wanders to more trifling things, like what I might have for dinner tonight, and why on earth my first day of Junior year is taking so fucking long.

Allen walks in after three more minutes of me drawing in this way, and he does a double take as he sees me sitting where I am, looking from the front door, to me, to the front door, and back to me again. He shakes his head as if in confusion and walks over to sit next to me. I don't even notice he's in the room until he decides to ask me a question.

"Whatcha drawin'?" I nearly jump; startled out of my trancelike state that I always delve into when I start drawing. I look to my right and see Allen sitting there, looking a bit too large for the seat he's sitting in, even though it's the same size as mine. Golden eyes saying hello. When did he get there? And what am I drawing? I move my paws away from the piece of paper on the desk and my jaw drops in unmasked horror.

It's a picture of him. For no apparent reason, I drew a picture of Allen. Why?

"It's n-nothing." I hastily cover it up and stuff it into my black accordion folder that houses all of my drawings, making sure that it lands in the one marked for trash.

"Hang on, let me see!" He tries to grab the folder out of my paws and I yelp, taking a swipe at him with my claws extended; the artist's natural reflex to protect their art at all costs rearing its ugly head. It gets us all in trouble at least once. This was my first time.

Oops.

My claws hit flesh and fur and I barely stop myself from continuing along the path that my claws would have taken. Small wet spots appear where my claws were dug into Allen's pelt and the underlying tissue. I gasped and retracted them, pulling my paw away and shoving my folder into my backpack before fleeing the classroom through the door which I came in through. The passing period won't last forever, but it should still be enough time to just get alone and be with my thoughts.

Allen

Cripes! That cat has sharp claws! Is about the only thing my stunned brain can rationalize before he's out the door and taken off running again. I put a paw up to my forehead where his claws might have literally torn me a new one... if he hadn't stopped himself.

"So that's how it's going to be, eh? You're a fighter, but you hate fighting, and your eyes are like opals, a gemstone of peace... A very interesting mixture, if I do say so myself..." Unknowingly I talk to myself a lot, and I get a few odd stares from my fellow classmates. I just smile at them and they laugh, probably thinking that I monologue in my spare time. I don't, but hey, whatever works.

I swing my legs out from under my desk and use the motion to help carry me out of my seat, my long legs making it somewhat easy. They'll also come in handy for tracking down that pussy cat, but he probably knows the hallways much better than I do; he probably knows the best places to hide.

Unfortunately for him, he is the only cat of his kind in the bunch, and I see those unmistakable eyes of his glancing back, widening somewhat cutely when they lock with mine, and turning to face forward again, hastily dodging through the people in the hallways with practiced ease. I'm much too big to dodge around like that, but being big means that people are more likely to get out of your way. And, as I start moving after him through the crowd, that's exactly what they do.

Like some hysterical version of Moses, I part the crowd before me and walk past, smiling and waving whenever I see a familiar face, calling out names painstakingly remembered in quick succession. Rule one about being liked: Learn people's names. Be good with names.

Some people try to hail me down to chat, and others try and ask me what happened to my face, but I politely decline conversation, walking briskly and almost knocking over a few smaller freshmen who are stuck like a deer in headlights when a large upperclassman, like myself, comes barreling through the hall. As if the first day of school wasn't enough torture, now they are going to get run over!

I stifle a laugh and continue the chase. Strangely, that cat disappears. And I don't mean ducks-behind-a-corner-follow-him-and-he's-there kind of disappear. I mean he absolutely disappears. I'm stuck in the intersection of two different hallways, and that cat is gone. Just completely gone! I was looking right at him, and he stumbled or something, bumping into someone. But the person who came up was wearing something different than...

Laughing, I saw through what had happened. He had bumped into someone, knocked their sweatshirt off from around their waist, slung his backpack off and slipped the shirt on in one or two motions, and then quickly put it back on. The whole thing couldn't have taken more than two seconds, but that was apparently all he needed. The dumbfounded and sweatshirtless fur who so promptly had their winterwear taken from them looked about confusedly. I figured I'd watch him. If anyone would recognize his stolen sweatshirt, it would be him.

And off he goes, after a hood casually put up, warping as its occupant looks back surreptitiously...

And yep, a flash of opal and I know where that cat's gone off to. I don't know why, but chasing another guy like that makes me hot. I shrug off my arousal and chase after him, eager to get him alone after this is all over.

Reidan

Ohshit ohshit ohshit ohshit ohshit ohshit! He's going to fucking kill me! Was all that I would have been able to say if I stopped to try and talk with someone. I had done the stupidest thing a wallflower like me can possibly do.

I fucking pissed off a jock. I'm as good as dead!

Ordinarily that wouldn't be the case. Ordinarily this never would have happened. Ordinarily that sweatshirt trick would have confounded any pursuers. But that son of a bitch is managing to follow me somehow! How does he do that!?

I pant softly, dodging around people so much is useful when you're slim like I am, but being slim like I am means you don't have too much energy for prolonged dodging. I'd have to stop soon... Where the fuck was my next class, anyways? I reached in my pocket and took out the sheet of paper with my schedule on it. Reading the line, I changed my course to duck into my next class and be done with this nonsense. There's no way that the panther would have the same class as me again.

Unfortunately, someone yanked me back by the hood and I went into reflex mode again with a most unceremonious growl, slipping my backpack off in one motion, and the sweatshirt with it. I ditched the sweatshirt in the paw that had grabbed it, and slung my backpack over my back with a callous "Sorry". I got a face full of cuss when I looked back at a very perturbed Doberman, who was much too slim to be another jock. In my haste for cover I didn't really size up the person I had pulled the switcheroo on, and as he put it back on he gave me quite the rude gesture.

While looking back, though, I saw that Allen was still hot on my tail. And I mean literally, hot on my tail. The guy looked like he was starving for something. Maybe he was starving to punch my face in, I wondered. I didn't get to wonder for long, as I saw my destination classroom just a few doors down. I broke into s print, surprising the few furs around me who were still loitering in the halls. I'd have gotten to class sooner, if I didn't have to run blindly for half the passing period trying to get away from--

"Nnk!!" I gasped as I felt someone tug on my backpack, bringing me to a sudden jerking halt.

Oh, no... I felt sick to my stomach with the anticipation of what would happen next. I shut my eyes and clenched my teeth.

And then that voice came, sounding much too happy for the circumstances.

"Hahaha, caught you!"

Allen

I held onto his backpack tightly, turning him around to face me, and then ducking into a side hall with him. It was more or less just a nook inside the hallway, but I pressed him against the wall gently, tail flicking with a sense of hunger. I licked my lips and prepared to show him the wildest of times...

Until I looked into his opal eyes, and saw that he was absolutely terrified of me, tears threatening to overflow as he just stared at me, ears back, eyes unblinking but as large as saucers.

What... what was I doing?? I suddenly felt ill, like there was someone else in my body, making me move in ways I would never move of my own volition... and yet, here I am, pressing this cat up against the wall, with a half-erection that was tenting my pants... Just like those bastard jocks had done to me at my old school... The place where I swore that I would never treat someone like that, no matter how angry they got me... But I wasn't angry! I was... aroused... I faltered, and he saw me let my guard down just a little, and he lunged forwards, catching me by surprise.

Reidan

My fear had turned into a hard resolve to go down swinging. I had entered fight or flight, and I chose fight.

If I was going down I'd make that motherfucker hate me! I'd ruin his reputation! All I'd need is one witness... and one witness there is! Several of them! I gather myself, and wait for him to let his guard down. I look in his golden eyes and see... hurt? I shake myself mentally and feel his grip ease, and I dive forward, eyes closing, lips curling back in a half snarl, diving at him...

Allen

And then... then he fucking kissed me! Like it was some kind of attack! Was he somehow turned on by these situations?? No... That fear he showed was real... Then why kiss me? While mentally stunned, my body does what it wants, and... I kissed him back.

His eyes shot wide open, he was not expecting that for some reason. But his tongue was still lashing at my lips, and I parted my muzzle, twisting my tongue with his. His eyes lost their glassy sheen of shock and terror, and glazed over into a more passionate state... What was going on??

Reidan

I had intended to destroy his reputation by kissing him, and making him look like he was what the jocks called a 'furfag', but I never expected him to kiss back! And now... now, with my tongue twisting with his between out muzzles, I couldn't stop. I just couldn't! I tried and tried but I just couldn't pull away, my body wasn't listening to me... It was a radio receiver, and it was currently tuned in to 'Lust'.

I felt things I'd never thought I'd feel before. His body, large, strong, over mine... it felt right somehow. I didn't understand it at all, but I just kissed him harder, a small purr growing in the back of my throat, by sheath stirring as I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around him, holding him to me tightly. He was so warm... It felt like there was fire, coursing through my veins, making me want him, lighting up every nerve in my body with a burning desire to just hold onto him and keep him close, to let him take a swim in the mysterious depths of my secrets. I wanted to, I wanted to very badly, and I kissed him. I just kissed him, and clutched him like a drowning man clutches a dreary piece of flotsam.

Allen

If this is a dream, I sure as fuck do not want to wake up now, I mused, deepening our kiss as I pressed him up against the wall again, pressing my body against his and grinding out crotches together. Now then, I am not your average-sized kitty down in the trousers. No no, I have a trouser python. He was being the perfect little snake charmer, and I ground against him harder and harder, grunting softly with pleasure. I reached down to unbuckle my pants, and let the snake loose, to let it--

Someone cleared their throat behind us, that simple sound carrying with it authority. "A-hem! Need I remind you, Allen, that although your charisma may be overwhelming for some students, that fornication on school grounds is not permitted?" The Principal, a shrew named Mr. Munroe, was behind me, and I slowly turned my head to look at him, breaking the kiss and keeping myself frozen in place. A small strand of saliva connected Reidan's mouth to mine, and I didn't bother trying to break it. His taste was still fresh on my tongue, and I intended to get more, even if it took me the rest of high school.

"Now that's better," he continued. "Now, since this is your first day, and you came from quite an... ahem... undesireable school, whose rolemodels are gangsters and pimps, I'll let you off with a warning, since the moans were coming from both of you, and it was obviously consensual. Now then, why don't you back up and give that girl some air? And then you get to class, the bell rang five min... utes... ago...." He trailed off as I wrapped my arms protectively around Reidan's waist and brought him out in front of me. He was blushing so much his fur looked pink, and he was panting as if he'd just run a 10k. When he saw what had interrupted us, he just blushed more, and tried to look away, pressing his ears against his skull out of embarrassment. I expected to catch hell for this, being caught with another guy on the first day, but Mr. Munroe just stood there, thinking for a while, before nodding and saying, "Get to class."

I hastily obliged, and Reidan seemed not at all ashamed to quickly follow me into that classroom. I vaguely heard the Principal saying to himself "I'd never thought I'd see the day... Damn kid's been through hell, now he..." before it became too muffled by walls and distance to hear. I sat down with Reidan next to me, and to be honest, I couldn't even tell you the teacher's name after that class. I was too busy staring at those opal eyes, and they were busy staring back at me.