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You wake up around 1 in the afternoon. I've made a simple breakfast, called in to the site manager for the day, and then stored a good amount of the food in the fridge for you when you're up. Bacon and bread. Hangover cures from heaven.

The first sign I get from you is a soft moan. My ears pick up on it from the kitchen and I'm immediately by the couch. "Seth, are you awake?" I ask softly.

Your eyes are still shut. I don't blame you, even though I've kept the lights in here very dim and shut the blinds. You only answer with another groan. At least you've heard me.

"You need to drink water, okay? I've got a glass right here. Can you take a drink?" You nod very faintly and I raise the glass to near your face. "Here you go. Put a paw on it and take it slow."

It looks like it pains you to lift your arm and weakly grip the glass along with me. Your fingers overlay mine as you help tip the glass to your muzzle and tentatively sip. It must feel so good to your parched mouth, because you then tip the glass again, trying to greedily gulp.

"Mm-mm, take it easy now. Make sure you can keep it down first." I lower the glass away from you and set it on the end table next to a couple other ones I've filled throughout the night and kept at the ready. You moan again, eyes still shut. "Can you tell me how you feel?"

Several seconds pass while you lick your chops, wet your mouth, and try to organize your thoughts. When you finally speak, it's in a croak. "Bruce?"

"Yeah, buddy, it's me. You passed out last night at the bar and I was really worried about you so you're at my place for as long as you need to be to recover. Your friends know I have you and they have my number."

"Oh god..." Your head lolls over to my side, and your eyes creak open. They're watery and crusty but there's still such a clear, sharp green beneath that confused murk...

I mentally slap myself. Bad moosey, behave!

"What...happened after..." You struggle to sit up a little straighter, and I help out with a firm hand behind your back.

"Well, that badger kid took you to the bathroom, and...that's where I found you." I physically wince as I realize what I'm gonna have to tell you. "You were already unconscious but he was still gonna..." I sigh. "Well, you know..."

Your eyes widen for an instant before you realize it hurts your head, but I can see the shock starting to sink in. "But we didn't...?"

"I stopped him in time. It was a really near miss, though, he was all but inches away from getting in there. And he was being kind of an asshole about the whole thing when I caught him, too." The word "asshole" brings unbidden flashes into my tired mind of a more literal version of the word that I saw last night...and I automatically feel a huge amount of shame. That was supposed to be your_very_ private area, but because of the situation, I'd had to check. Hadn't I? Maybe I_am_ just as much of a sleazy predator as Ed and Marty seem to think I'm being. I feel a hot flash of anger towards that goddamn snooty badger for putting me into this position of having indirectly violated you - and, less logically, for making me do it all over again in my mind...

You groan again, this time from much more than your surely massive physical distress. You look away from me, and the insides of your ears are almost glowing red. I can see the back of one of them, and there's that wonderful little white eyespot. Didn't those evolve long ago as a predator deterrent, to make it look like you were always watching, even with your back turned? You seem to be having pretty awful luck with that particular adaptation lately... But that makes them no less beautiful to me, along with you as a whole.

Suddenly I can't help myself and I'm kneeling next to the couch and hugging you. "It's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. I just wanted to get you out of there." My big hand pets your bony back, caressing that garish pink shirt that looks significantly duller in the dim lighting. You're actually nice and warm despite your small size.

"I thought he seemed nice..." you mumble by my ear.

"Oh Seth..." I give you as gentle a squeeze as I can and then sit back on my haunches. "He didn't even know your name."

You hang your head even more, and the blush in your ears looks like it should be melting them. "Thanks for helping me. Dunno if I really deserve it, I shouldn't have been so dumb..."

Before you even finish I hug you to me again. "Don't say that. Nothing was your fault. That guy was just an entitled idiot."

A while goes by with me still rubbing my paw on your back, before I realize I'm probably being really awkward and forward. I stop my petting and lean away from the hug, feeling that all-too-familiar guilt that I get when I think about you too much.

But you look sheepishly at me and say, "You don't have to stop...that actually felt good right now."

My heart feels like it's overflowing when I take you back in my arms. "Sure, tiger. Whatever you need." Your whiskers tickle against my neck and I feel you start to purr.

Which abruptly stops just before you ask, "Did you...see anything, last night?"

I tense up and stop rubbing you for a second. You don't need to know about that part. "No, I covered you back up as soon as I could. I don't need to see any more stuff that's not mine in and around those bathrooms, let me tell you what..."

You give a single huff by way of weak laughter. "Thanks. It's really nice of you to...care."

"Of course I do. I like ya, and nobody deserves what happened to you, or what was about to happen. You can always stay here if you need to."

That begins a minute of unhurried silence, before I lean away again and grab the glass of water. "Here. More." This time you can handle the glass by yourself, and you take healthy but careful drinks. "I'll get you some ibuprofen too. How do you feel?"

You gulp down a mouthful of water. "Terrible headache. Not sick though. And, uh...I could really use the bathroom."

I chuckle and point. "Right over there. I have you some food, too, if you think you're up to it."

"I'll see how I feel." You grunt as you turn around and shakily stand up with my help. "I'm good, I can make it." Proud little tiger. You shuffle to the bathroom on your own and close the door behind you.

I sigh and head to the kitchen again, placing a few ibuprofen tablets on the counter and making you some fresh toast and reheated bacon. I gulp down another cup of coffee for myself. I'm feeling terribly groggy from staying up mostly until now, running only on cheap black brew and a few twenty-minute naps in the chair right by the couch, which were not restful at all because I was keeping a worried ear out for any stirring from you. It's worth it though. Not my first all-nighter, though it's been a couple decades since the last. I'm just as glad you're as okay as you seem, and I hope the mental implications of what I've told you don't hit you too hard.

When you emerge from the bathroom I have the modest meal laid out on the table, where I'm also seated with another cup of coffee. I've gotten you a fresh glass of water to go with it. "You hungry?"

"A little. Didn't eat much yesterday. Rookie mistake before going out, huh?"

I chuckle again as you join me and down the pills with some more water. "I can take you back to your dorm anytime you wanna go."

You crunch though a strip of bacon before replying. "Actually...my roommate doesn't really know how to be quiet, and I could use a little more sleep. Do you mind if I...stay here for a little longer? You look pretty tired too."

"'Course you can. Anything you need. And I was just up most of the night worried. We could probably both use a nap, eh?"

"Damn right. I'll call my friends and let them know I'm among the living again."

"To their credit, they did seem skeptical about letting me bring you back here."

"Haha! Must have looked a little weird. I know you wouldn't do anything, though. Unlike certain badgers, apparently..." You grimace and laugh, but they're both shaky and I can tell you're trying to cover up your nervousness about it. Really though, you're taking almost-getting-raped pretty well so far, and it makes me want to hug you again for being so brave. And for laying a few of my own fears to rest.

You finish your small portion, call one of your friends and reassure them, and then come back to the living room, where I've taken up residence on the couch. My morning's catching up to me hard; the coffee's not doing much to keep me running anymore. I scroll through the channels while you gingerly occupy to the other end of the couch, and I stop on an airing of an old James Bond flick. "You like Bond?" I ask.

"Only if it's the very first guy. He's kinda sexy." You're holding back a smirk and flicking your pierced ear at me. I only chuckle, not knowing how much to read into the joke and feeling a little nervous about the implications in case it wasn't just a deadpan. In any case, I set the remote on the end table and get comfy in my spot, slouching down and draping an arm over the armrest. My eyes are on the TV, but I have to keep telling them not to flick towards you, even though they're closing more insistently by the second.

Just before I succumb entirely to a blessed nap, I hear the brush of fur on fabric and then there's a warmth by my side. You've picked my other arm up and draped it over your shoulder. You're purring again as you snuggle in and lay your ear against my chest. I've never smiled so blissfully and completely in my life.

* * *

Almost three weeks later, you're back at my house again, for the fourth time. We'd exchanged numbers after the first time you stayed over and you even get my stupid old thumbs working with a few text messages now and then. You tell me about your classes, your parents, and movies you want to watch. You make an old moose's day every time I get one and have to spend several minutes just to reply a couple lines.

Each time you come over it's more comfortable. We joke, we flirt, and you cuddle up under my arm and we watch a movie or two, then I take you back. Once you bring us a six-pack of the same milk stout that I love at the bar, and we split it and you stay the night. It's easy and unforced, though at least on my part there's always the uncertain shadow of what you want out of this, and what I want. We couldn't be farther apart, in a lot of surface-level ways, but I think that's what makes it feel so nice when we can be so effortlessly close.

I can't see what's on the TV that November night; I must not have been paying attention the first time. But I know exactly where you are; perched on my lap this time, your butt between my spread legs and my arms hugged around to your front. My fingers pet absently but pleasurably over your chest, and the side of my head lies against yours, my antlers towering over both of us. My eyes are half-closed from pure idle pleasure.

This limbo state is only broken when you sigh and squirm between my thighs.

I turn my head, my eyes now open and trying to catch yours...but they're completely closed. You're purring, and a soft smile hangs on your muzzle. Your thin tail curls and uncurls between my feet.

I don't know what I'm doing. My fingers travel down your stomach.

It's only the flickering light from the forgotten TV that allows me to see your whiskers twitch and your eyes slit open. Your smile doesn't change, and your purr crests into a momentary throaty chuckling noise. Do you...?

My fingers reach the waistband of your jeans, which I've convinced you to start wearing despite your eye-rolling. It's November in Minnesota, damnit, I don't care how much more comfortable or stylish you are in your shorts.

We're at a truce for a little bit, me secretly terrified of pushing forward and you...you're just smiling and your tail's flopping on the floor. I'm nearly fifty, you're barely over twenty. Ed and Marty would give me disgusted looks if they knew what I was thinking of doing.

I'm not that badger.

"Seth, can I...can I touch you?"

You open your eyes and they smile greenly at me along with your muzzle. There's that churring noise in your throat again. God, that kitty purr is vibrating you against my chest...

"I'd love that."

I can't move. "Are you sure? I don't want to--"

You grab my hand and press the fingers to your pants button. Not needily, not forcefully. Inviting. Confident. Sexy.

I work the button and when it unsnaps I feel your ringed ear flick against my cheek. Your purr never stops, but hitches when I unzip you, then place my hand back on your stomach. Your eyes are lidded again.

So carefully, so agonizingly, I slide my hand down and into your jeans. You don't wear underwear. Of course you don't. I feel soft, thick fur on your pubic mound and I stop there to run my fingers through it, my whole body tingling. I haven't been this nervous about doing this since that very first time my last year of high school...he was the kicker, and come to think of it, he was a tiger...

A deep breath, and further down. My hand slides over your privates and you softly moan in your throat. You're not hard yet, and I can hold all of you in one hand, gathering up all the loose flesh between your legs and just holding it, feeling the weight of your young balls and the soft, soft fur covering them. You start to thicken as I squeeze you, my other hand on your chest, hugging you close.

You do some of the work for me and push your own pants down, your tigerhood flopping out as the fabric passes your knees on its way to the floor. I stare at it, head buzzing. Even mostly soft, your cock is so beautiful. Your nuts hang loose in the low light, and my paw can't help but cup them again. The attention is making your cock swell and creep up the thigh it's lying against. I watch it for a moment, my long-deprived eyes almost aching at the perfect sight, then I let go of your sack and I tenderly take your penis in my hand.

You make the most wonderful noises when you're pleasured, you know that? Like a needy kitten, but strong too, not whimpering. As my hand starts to stroke you, your ear flicks against my face again and I nuzzle into it, pressing my muzzle into that fuzzy eyespot as if to blind it. It's okay, you ran your course. The predator got you anyway.

I push away the fear and the guilt. I'm not molesting you. You're a boy of less than half my age but we like each other and you want this. My left hand pets the tight orange fabric of your shirt, from the bottom of which spills that thick tuft of cream-colored belly and pubic hair. You're starting to suck in air through your teeth as the pace and depth of my strokes increases. I finish a volley of them and then let go, your cock flopping onto your stomach with a groan from you.

You rub the side of your face into mine and sigh. Is it weird to have your heart melt for someone while you're jerking them off?

My hand explores lower again, squeezing your nuts with appreciation and almost worship. Your dick stands up so proudly; you're a "big boy", for being such a small boy. My first tiger was nowhere near your length.

I rub reverently on your taint. My hand is shaking a little bit. I'm just like a calf again, so tentative and afraid, but for such un-calflike reasons. In fact, just the opposite. But you don't stop me. I see no signs that you aren't completely at ease.

Not even when my fingers reach low enough to feel the smooth warmth of your asshole.

You actually give up a gasp and your cock jumps. That sight is so erotic and gorgeous that behind you, my own dick echoes the action inside my pants. You relax completely into me as for several minutes I gently rub your orifice, becoming a pool of warm limp nearly-liquid tiger that I'm privileged to feel like I'm bathing in.

Your cock begs for my attention though, my rubbing making it strain and drip against your flat white-furred stomach. How could I deny it any longer? My hand rubs your ballsack one more time on its way back up, and then it's on. I want to give you so much now, in return for being the first person in nearly two years who's revealed themselves to me and trusted their body to me and made me feel like it wasn't all over already, like I could still bring pleasure, bring life.

I grab your dick and begin stroking you again in earnest, with all the experience of fifty years of handling such pieces. You gasp so honestly, so without performance, and in that moment I love you. It's only been a month and it's wrong and it's weird but I love you right now. That's what I really want you to know, my scrawny little tiger. I loved you and I still do, but it was not selfish, and it still isn't. You brought me such joy and affirmation...go and take them to others.

I hope you feel a little bit of similar joy in the orgasm you have at my hands. I know it's coming by your more and more strangled grunts and moans, and I move you to the side enough so I can lean down just in time and put my warm mouth around your cock as it flexes and shoots and you groan long and loud. I'm careful of my antlers, making sure they enclose your thin body on either side, having awkwardly ribbed more than one unlucky man in my day...

For many minutes we sit like that, your arms trembling a little bit from holding your body up, and one of my hands lovingly massaging your balls while your penis softens in my mouth. You taste young.

And for once I don't feel so old.