FSE

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Clayton stood alone at the top of a small cliff, looking out over the mostly flat landscape as the sun crept slowly towards the horizon. A flock of small birds took off from the ground below and flew off into the distance, and the young Coyote felt a pang of envy. But soon enough that would be him, he told himself. In two months he'd be leaving the small, remote southern town of Sparrowfield for a university in New York.

The day he had gotten the acceptance letter had been one of the best days of his life, and he had actually hollered out of joy. Finally he was going to get out of that town and join the rest of the world. No more community college, no more working a dead-end job at his uncle's furniture store, no more seeing the same streets day after day after day. He could go out and finally experience what it was like to actually be alive.

But first, he sighed, he needed to get back so he could take the bags of groceries to his mother before she started wondering where he was.

He turned around and made his way down the slope, holding onto the bags with both hands so that the jerky motion wouldn't cause one of them to rip. The last time he had made that mistake had earned him an earful about bringing home dusty groceries, and he had no interest in finding out what would happen if he did it again.

The day had been hot, and Clayton was glad that the shrubs and trees kept the path to his little secret lookout point nice and shady. Or course, it helped that the sun was already low too. But not too low...right?

His answer came when he got close enough back to town to get signal on his cellphone. First one, then another, and then a third text message was received in quick succession, telling him that someone had been trying hard to reach him. He fumbled to put the bags down carefully before pulling out his phone and confirming what he already knew. They were from his mother.

"Aw hell," he mumbled to himself. Three texts, so who knew how many times she had tried to call him. Reluctantly he dialed her number, preparing himself for her sharp tongue.

She answered on the first ring.

"Clayton! Where the hell have you been? I called you a thousand times and your phone didn't ring a single damn time!"

"Sorry, I accidently turned it off," he lied.

"Accidently turned it off," she repeated condescendingly. "You better not be up to anything bad, you hear me?"

"I'm not," he sighed.

"Good. Did you pick up the groceries yet?"

"Yeah, got them right here."

"Alright," she said, easing her tone. "Now I need you to stop by the liquor store on your way home. Your father dropped his cigarettes in the toilet and now he's having big old fit over it, so I need you to pick him up a pack, alright?"

"Yeah alright," he replied.

"Alright. Hurry back now."

"Yeah."

"Okay, I love you baby."

"Yeah," he said. "Love you too."

With another sigh Clayton lifted up the bags and starting walking again. When he got on the main road he started heading for the liquor store, glad it was on the way home. If he had more money he would have bought a car a long time ago, but working for his uncle didn't pay nearly that well. His father collected disability for an accident he had a few years ago, and his mom worked at a hair salon in town, so neither of them could afford one for him either. At least that was one of the perks of living in a small place, everything was within walking distance.

The liquor store stood on a corner, and as the Coyote reached it he heard familiar voices call out "Clay!"

Clayton turned and saw a group of his friends coming towards him. There was a Lion, Chris, and a Doberman, Charlie, who had both been on the football team with him during high school. There was also Aron, a Golden Retriever, who he'd been friends with since second grade.

"Hey, what's up?" he said as they all stopped in front of the store.

"Getting beer for Mike's party tomorrow," said Aron. "You're going right?"

"Hell yeah he is," said Chris, "He's going with Rebecca."

"I ain't going with her," argued Clayton, suppressing a smile while trying to ignore their whistling.

"But she asked if you were going, right?" asked Aron.

The Coyote rolled his eyes. "Yeah," he said.

"Well there you go man," said Aron, patting him on the shoulder. "You're as good as laid!"

"You think so?" he laughed. "...I don't know...I don't want to give her the wrong idea you know?"

"Man," said Charlie, "she'll probably be so drunk she won't even remember it."

"Besides, you're leaving at the end of summer aren't you?" asked Aron. "You'll only have to deal with her 'til then."

"You're kind of a pig," said Clayton. "You know that?"

"C'mon man," the Golden Retriever continued, ignoring him. "This is your last chance to get with Rebecca Sanders."

"Man watch your mouth," he said, glancing through the windows. "You know Mr. Macks is her uncle."

Aron looked through the window too. "He ain't even here," he said as he went over to hold the door open for his friend.

Inside the group was greeted by the humming of the fluorescent lights and the freezers in the back. It took a moment for Clay to realize why it seemed so quiet. Mr. Macks, the owner of the store, usually had music playing on his radio. Without it the silence was almost eerie.

"I'm just saying man," continued Aron as he walked over to the alcohol. "If you don't get with her you're going to regret it for the rest of your life."

"Whatever," he replied as he looked toward the counter.

Just as his friend had said, Mr. Macks wasn't there. In his place, sitting on a stool behind the counter, was a young Spaniel. He was leaning on his elbow while reading the paperback he held in his other hand. Clayton found himself oddly impressed that it wasn't a magazine or a comic book, considering how young he looked. He knew very few people in his age group who actually read for pleasure. The Spaniel seemed to almost not even notice that they had come in, seemingly engrossed in the story as his eyes moved side to side across the page.

Clayton walked over slowly to him, waiting for him to look up, but it took a moment longer than he thought it should have. His light brown eyes met the Coyote's, standing out from the light brown fur around them. They were separated by a thin white line that ended just above his eyebrows. The light brown fur on his ears was longer than the rest, and wavy to the point of almost being curly. His white muzzle was flecked with light brown freckles, and so was the white fur on his forearm. Rather than smiling politely, he just looked at Clayton expectantly in a way that was neither rude nor altogether inviting.

He didn't ask the Coyote what he needed, instead just waiting for him to speak first. But Clayton hesitated for a moment. Something about the Spaniel's appearance affected him. Had they met before? It was unusual seeing someone in this town whose face you didn't recognize to at least some minor degree, and he did look almost familiar, but the Coyote couldn't quite place where he had seen him.

"Uh, can I get a pack of cigarettes?" he asked as he put the grocery bags down.

"Yeah," answered the Spaniel in a voice that caught the now even more confused Coyote's attention. But then as he bent down below the counter he mumbled out, "You're funeral."

"Huh?"

"Nothing," he said as he placed a pack on the counter.

Clayton looked down at it, and then back into the Spaniel's eyes.

"Uh, it's not for me," he clarified, feeling an odd need to defend himself. "They're for my dad."

"Oh," he replied simply. He searched the Coyote's face for a second before adding, "You should get him to quit."

"Uh..."

"Each cigarette takes eleven minutes off your life," he added as he turned to the cash register.

"Oh...yeah?"

"Yeah." Then he paused, like he was thinking. "Five fifty-three."

Clayton reached into his pocket and fished out his wallet, handing the Spaniel a ten. Their hands didn't touch.

"Um, so you know a lot about cigarettes?" he asked lamely.

The Spaniel shrugged. "My aunt died from smoking," he said indifferently.

Clayton nodded once, unsure what else to do.

"Four forty-seven," said the other boy as he handed him his change. This time their fingers brushed just slightly.

"Thanks," said the Coyote politely. But before the Spaniel could respond, if he was going to, Clayton felt his friend nudge him aside as Charlie placed a twelve pack on the counter, Aron and Chris each holding up another for the Spaniel to see.

"You better not wuss out," said Aron to the Coyote as the Spaniel typed into the cash register again. "Rebecca fucking Sanders. Drunk!"

"Jeez Aron," grumbled Chris, "Keep your mouth shut."

"What?" he complained. "Macks isn't even here."

"No, my uncle isn't here today," said the Spaniel from behind the counter, making all of them look at him. His voice, Clayton noticed, had gotten an edge to it, yet somehow still managed to sound almost indifferent. "He's out sick."

It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in, the four males processing his words with blank stares.

Finally, Charlie let out a little laugh. "Shit," he said.

"...You're Rebecca's cousin?" asked Chris.

"Last time I checked," answered the Spaniel, turning to the cash register again.

"You're uh, not gonna tell her we said that right?" asked Aron, a hint of pleading in his voice. But the Spaniel just shrugged. The unhappy expression on his face gave Clayton a sinking feeling.

"Come on man, it's not like that," said Aron before putting a hand on the Coyote's shoulder. "My buddy really likes her and..."

The Spaniel turned to Clayton, giving him a stare that could cut through concrete. He squirmed uncomfortably, and decided the longer he stayed here the worse it was going to get.

"I'm gonna head out," he said, cutting off the Golden Retriever, who had still been talking. He picked up the grocery bags again and started walking away. "See you guys later."

And then he was out the door before any of them could stop him, hoping Aron didn't implicate him further.

Shit. Even if he had actually had a shot with Sandra before, it was definitely gone now. He'd definitely be lying if he said there wasn't at least some part of him had been entertaining the idea. But well, he thought, maybe it was better this way anyway. Sleeping with her probably would have been a bad idea. And now at least even if they both got drunk, she would probably be avoiding him so he didn't have to worry about being tempted.

Rebecca Sanders was a Skunk, one of the local beauty queens, and had been giving him not so subtle hints that she was interested in him for a while now. She was nice and all, but Clayton wasn't really sure he had any feelings for her too. Emotionally anyway. Physically was a completely different story. He'd spent plenty of nights fantasizing about her, she was more than hot enough. But afterwards she would just sort of fade from his thoughts, like she'd lost her appeal.

And now he would probably lose his appeal to her too. He just hoped a rumor didn't start going around that he was some kind of closet date-rapist or something. Maybe the Spaniel wouldn't say anything to her. But then he thought about the way he had stared at him and that hope fizzled out.

Great, he thought, now he probably thought he was a jerk too.

After a minute of walking he heard the familiar voice of his friend calling out to him again. "Hey, Clay wait up!"

Almost reluctantly he stopped, giving Aron a chance to catch up with him. Hopefully he hadn't kept talking after he left. He knew his friend meant well, sort of, but sometimes he was more trouble than he was worth.

When the Retriever caught up he held out his hand to his friend. "You forgot your cigarettes man."

"Oh, shit," he said, surprised. He put one of the bag down and took it from him. "Thanks man."

"Charlie's got his car," Aron said as he caught his breathe. "We'll give you a ride."

"Oh, okay. Cool."

"Yeah, sorry about Rebecca's cousin man," he said, sounding more upset about it than Clayton was.

"Whatever. Doesn't matter."

Aron let out a huff, clearly upset about his friend's lack of interest. "Doesn't matter?"

"Yeah, you know."

"No, I really don't. How do you not care about blowing your chances with Rebecca?"

"I didn't blow it, you did," he defended. "And it's whatever. I wasn't that interested anyway."

"What? Why not?"

The Coyote shrugged. "I don't know. Just...we don't have that much in common, or something."

Aron shook his head. "Whatever," he shrugged. "That fag's probably going to go blab to her anyway."

Clayton's ears shot up, and before he knew it he was asking, "He's gay?"

Luckily his friend seemed oblivious to his reaction. "I don't know man," he shrugged dismissively, "probably. Can I bum one of those cigs?"

Clayton thought about whether his father would mind if one of them was missing. "...Yeah, here," he said, opening the box and handing him one.

"Thanks," Aron replied as he pulled out his lighter and held it to the stick. He took in a long breathe before puffing it out into the air. Clayton's nose crinkled.

"You should probably quit," he said.

"Uh-hu," said the Retriever dryly.

"Each cigarette takes eleven minutes off your life."

Aron let out a dismissive laugh. "Where'd you hear that?"

Clayton knew, but instead he answered, "I read it in an article on the internet."

"Hm." He took in another lungful of ash. "Worth it."

The Coyote shook his head, turning away so he wouldn't breathe in too much. He was grateful when Charlie drove around the corner, and he quickly hopped in the back. Aron sat across from him, and had the decency to smoke out the window so the smell didn't become too much in the small space.

As they drove Clayton looked out and stared at all the decorations still scattered throughout the town's main streets. Fourth of July had been last weekend, and the whole town seemed reluctant to stop celebrating. In fact, that was sort of the idea behind the party tomorrow. Mike, the one hosting it, was calling it a Youth Independence Party. Of course, it was really more of a My-Parents-Are-Out-Of-Town-Let's-Get-Wasted Party, but no one was complaining about the title. It was also unclear to many whether his parents had consented to the party or not, but that was his problem, not theirs. It wasn't the first time he had thrown one, so maybe they didn't mind it.

The four males talked about the day to come, about all the girls they hoped would be there, and about what Rebecca would do if her Spaniel cousin did tell her what he had heard. Clayton thought about him, and whether or not he seemed like the type who would do that. Something about the way the Spaniel had looked at him really got under the Coyote's skin.

The space between the buildings gradually increased as they neared Clayton's house, his family living near the outer edge of town, until finally they stopped at a small simple looking wooden house whose white coat was in desperate need of being repainted.

"Thanks, see you guys tomorrow," said Clayton as he got out of the car. They all said goodbye as Charlie drove off, leaving him to climb the small porch to his house. Inside, his two younger sisters were watching the television in the living room, watching some reality show. Unlike the Coyote, who took after his father, they were both Dalmatians like their mother.

"Hi Clay," said Cassidy, the older of the two.

"Hey Cass, where's mom?"

But before she could answer their mother appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Clayton, finally! Do you know how long you were out?"

"Sorry," he grumbled.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you to hurry back. Now come on, bring the groceries in there so I can finally get dinner started."

He followed her into the kitchen, setting the bags down onto the counter and fishing out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

"Oh Clayton, can you take those to your father? He's out back."

He paused for just a second before saying, "Yeah, alright."

Since the houses out here were spaced out, they had less of an actual backyard and more of an open space behind the house. Clayton's father was by the tool shed near the house, the lawnmower lying next to him as he fiddled with various parts of its internal mechanisms. The older Coyote glanced up as his son approached him, nodding towards him in acknowledgement.

"Mom told me to get you these," he said as he held out the cigarettes.

"Thanks," his father grunted in reply. Then he indicated a part of the lawnmower. "Here, hold this part for me."

Clayton crouched down next to him and held it as his father attempted to force other parts into place. The only sound between them was their breathing and the occasional grunt as his father tinkered away at the various bits of metal. When everything appeared to be as it should the older Coyote signaled to the younger one to let go.

"Thanks."

"Yeah," replied Clayton as his father pulled out a cigarette.

"Hm? There's one missing."

"Yeah, I gave one to Aron."

Clayton tried not to feel the wrong thing as he walked away, listening to his father grumble his displeasure at having one less cigarette. He had been right about whether or not he would mind.

Moving through the hallway quickly to avoid any more requests from his mother, Clayton slipped quietly into his tiny bedroom. The room was barely wide enough for his bed, and barely twice its length, but it was the only place that offered him any sort of privacy in his small house. He stretched out on the worn mattress, which was thankfully just his length, and let all of the tension of the day start to fade away from his mind. Unfortunately, that left room for tension about tomorrow to come in.

Maybe there was a chance Rebecca would want to have sex with him anyway. Just the thought of it was already making him horny. Double-checking to make sure the door was locked, Clayton undid his jeans and pulled them down, exposing his steadily growing cock to the air. He wrapped a hand around it, stroking it slowly as he thought of the Skunk girl. Whatever she lacked in anything else, she made up for in abundance with her body. He thought of her tiny denim shorts and the tight shirts she would wear, showing off her cleavage. He thought of how angry her cousin would look if he ever caught the Coyote staring.

Even if Rebecca was drunk tomorrow, just the possibility that she might do things to him made his cock pulse. He imagined her slipping off her shirt, her breasts flopping out as she pulled down her shorts. She'd let him feel them up before getting on her knees and putting his dick in her mouth, suckling on it warmly. No, her cousin definitely wouldn't like that. He could almost see the Spaniel's light brown eyes staring him down.

But all that could actually happen tomorrow, he reminded himself as he stroked his shaft faster. Rebecca Sanders could be bouncing up and down on him, wet warm and tight around his cock. He'd grunt and groan, thrusting up into her as she shouted his name. The Spaniel would probably shout a few things at him too.

What if Aron was right and her cousin really was gay? Maybe the Spaniel would actually just be jealous of his Rebecca. Maybe he'd want to be the one riding the Coyote's dick. He couldn't help but imagine what it would be like, hearing the Spaniel shouting his name instead of Rebecca.

The Spaniel's voice entered his mind again, something about it sticking to him. It was...thick, almost, like the words were covered in honey, but without being all sweet and sugary, just heavy. But not deep, definitely. It wasn't an overtly male voice. It was more like it could go either way.

He pictured it, the Spaniel on top of him, pushing Clayton deeper into him. No, his voice definitely wouldn't be off-putting. It'd almost be nice.

Ramming into it, making it cry out and moan.

And then suddenly Clayton reached his edge, and before he knew it he was cumming hard all over himself. The pleasure jolted through him as he pumped his cock harder, milking out every last bit juice as it fell in big white globs across his abdomen and chest. He kept his voice down, panting roughly but quietly as the rush slowly died down and he was finally able to let go of himself.

He lied there, trying to think.

Had he just gotten off by thinking about the Spaniel?

...No, right? He was thinking of Rebecca, the Spaniel had just been a side thought. And either way, it was ultimately just thinking about the sex that got him off, not the person. Even now he could feel Rebecca slipping from his mind, just like she always did.

But as he reached for the napkins in the drawer next to his bed, Clayton couldn't help but notice that the Spaniel's voice lingered.

**************************

Clayton sat impatiently in the living room with his mother and sister, blankly staring at whatever program they were watching. The party wasn't going to be fancy, so he just had on a simple pair of jeans and a tight black t-shirt, and at the request of his mother, his black jacket.

Just when he was about to decide to go walking, he heard the honk of a car horn outside. He immediately shot out of his chair, calling out to his mother, "I'm heading out."

"Alright, be safe," she barely managed to call back before the door was closed behind him.

The sun had already set, but a large portion of the sky was still holding onto some of its lighter shades, and the air was just crisp enough to be refreshing without being too cold. So overall a really great night to get wasted.

"Clay!" shouted Aron happily from the front seat. "Hurry your ass up!"

"Me?" he asked as he got in. "I could have walked there by now."

"Hey," said Charlie as he turned the car around, "You want to walk then be my guest."

Since Tyler lived the closest to Mike they picked him up last, and soon after that were parking a good distance away from the party. It seemed like everyone in town had shown up. Cars were parked haphazardly all over the place for at least 200 yards. It was a good thing Mike's nearest neighbors were at least three times that distance from him.

Charlie parked the car on the outer layer, refusing to try and park any closer. "Alright," he said as everyone piled out of the car. "Time to see who should have stayed home."

It was their tradition for picking a designated driver whenever they were going to need one. Chris took the box of matches from Charlie's glove box and pulled out four. He lit one, blew it out, and then mixed it with the other three in his hands, holding it out so that the heads were hidden from view. Aron went first, holding his breath before quickly grabbing one and pulling.

"Fucking yes!" he breathed when he saw the red tip. "I'm getting wasted!"

"Fuck it," said Charlie as he quickly yanked one out. It was red too. "Ha, you guys better be careful with my car. Got to drive me to work tomorrow."

So now it was just Clayton and Chris.

"Fucking hell," breathed the Coyote as he faced the Lion.

"I swear Clay, if you pull out the red one I'm going to piss in all your drinks."

"You're going to be too dry to piss," he replied, trying to sound more confident then he felt. He reached out nervously, thinking about Rebecca. He knew he shouldn't be, but his hormones were raging again, and now that the possibility of sex was so close he didn't know what to hope for. Maybe she wouldn't mind a simple one night stand. But there's no way he'd be able to find out without at least a little alcohol in him.

His fingers closed around one of the sticks, and with a heartbeat he could feel in his toes he pulled it out.

The head of the matchstick was a sinful red.

Everything happened fairly quickly after that. They walked up to Mike's door, unnecessarily since the party had already extended a good few yards in front of it, and once the beer was noticed were greeted very happily. Then they mingled in with the rest of the town's youth, filling up the bottom and some of the top floor as well as pouring out the back and all around. Soon enough Clayton had three bottles and several shots worth of alcohol inside him, and was nursing on a fourth.

"Hey Clay," said a female voice.

The Coyote turned and saw Gloria, one of Rebecca's friends.

"Oh, hey Gloria."

"Rebecca's been looking for you."

"She's here?" he asked surprised, and also nervous. He quickly glanced around, seeing if he could see her, but there were too many people.

"She's outside," she answered. "But if you don't hurry someone else is going to find her first."

Aron patted his back as the girl walked away. "There it is man! Go for it."

"Uh...yeah..."

Only now was Clayton aware of how much the drinks were already affecting him. He was having trouble processing what to do. He knew he had thought going after the Skunk was a bad idea, but he couldn't remember the logic behind it.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Aron asked, smiling.

Clayton still had enough sense to snort, at least. "Hell no man. See you in a bit."

"Or not," he called out encouragingly as Clayton started weaving his way around the swarms of people. A lot of them seemed to be enjoying whatever music was playing.

The outside air wasn't as cold as he thought it should have been, but that might be because of the alcohol in his veins. It was loud out here too, and someone had the speakers of their car turned up so that the bass was buzzing through the already buzzed party goers.

It took Clayton a few minutes to find Rebecca, with everyone intermixed and his vision swimming every now and then. When he finally did find her she was with two other females, a Cat and another Coyote. They looked over at him as he started making his way toward them, smiling and talking amongst themselves.

"Hey Rebecca," he said when he reached them.

She smiled, widely, and he knew she had had plenty to drink tonight too. "Hi Clay."

"Um...Gloria said you were looking for me."

That made them all giggle.

"Maybe I was."

He nodded, unsure how to proceed, and took another sip from the bottle in his hands.

"So um, fun party," he said finally.

"Come on Sandy," said the female Coyote to the Cat. "Let's go find Gloria."

"Bye Clay," the other girl said, both chuckling and smiling widely at him.

"Bye," he said as they left. He was smiling too, but quickly remembered the Skunk in front of him.

"Fun party," she said, her voice slurring slightly.

"Yeah," he agreed. And then he said, "I met your cousin."

"I know," she replied, making him start to feel really anxious.

"Oh...yeah?"

"Yeah." Then she stopped and closed her eyes, swaying a little. "...You weren't mean to him were you?"

"No," answered Clayton quickly, not wanting to upset her.

"Good," she replied. "Don't be."

"O...Okay."

Then she looked up at him, smiling again. "You know what he told me?"

Oh no.

"...What?"

"He said you wanted to get me drunk and have sex with me."

"N-no," he quickly protested. "Aron...he said that. I didn't..."

"I know," she said, taking one of his hands in hers. "You're not like that, you're nice. Can I get a drink?"

"Oh," he said, handing her the bottle as his nerves tingled on his skin. "Yeah."

She took a long sip, and then laughed, making Clayton laugh too. She then went up close to him, letting go of his hand and leaning against him, looking up into his face as her breasts pushed against him. The Coyote let out a gasp that was half a moan, and it made her smile some more. She wrapped her arms around him, partly for support, and he instinctively did the same.

"You want to know something?" she asked him quietly.

"What?"

"I'm already a little drunk."

"Yeah?" he asked lamely. She was obviously more than a little drunk, but his mind was only able to process the feel of her body against his.

"Mhm." She kissed his neck, making him moan again. "Clayton, do you like me?"

As if there was any other answer right then. "Uh-hu."

She smiled again, leaning up to whisper into his ears. "Let's go inside."

"Okay."

She took his hand again, starting to lead him back toward the house, but it became quickly obvious that neither was satisfied with that. By the time they were actually inside their bodies were a lot closer and they arms were all but openly groping each other. Clayton thought that he saw Aron, but then it didn't matter because somehow they made it up the stairs and were looking for a room on the second floor.

They opened one door, but it quickly became apparent that the room was occupied. There was a female chocolate furred Labrador Retriever, who Clayton immediately noticed wasn't wearing a shirt or a bra, giving him a clear view of her breasts. The other was a Dog too, a Spaniel like Rebecca's cousin, who's front was turned away from them. She had on a purple bra, and had quickly recoiled from the open door, looking back shocked. The Coyote didn't move, a combination of hormones and alcohol compelling him to just take in the sight of two females undressing in front of each other, his mind filling in what might be happening.

He jeans were suddenly painfully confining.

"Sorry," said Rebecca quickly, shutting the door while laughing. Clayton felt immense disappoint as the scene was taken away from him, but the Skunk just pulled on him again to continue their quest for privacy.

The next room was empty, and she quickly pulled him in, collapsing on the bed and waiting for him to join her. He closed the door behind him before walking over and putting the bottle in his hand on the nightstand beside the bed, unzipping his jacket as he walked. His dick was already begging to be released, ready to be touched by her hands and mouth and body.

He climbed on top of her, his arms groping her breasts as they made out drunkenly. She moaned, arms grabbing all over his back. First her fingers were rough, gripping forcefully, but then gradually became softer and softer. Clayton was already digging his hands under her shirt by the time he realized what had happened.

His eyes watched her, looking for any sign of alertness, but she had stopped moving. Since his hands were already there, he shook her chest, partly trying to wake her up, partly trying to arouse her to alertness, and also partly because he was drunk and horny and wanted to feel. She giggled, but then she turned over on her side, pulling herself away from his hand and settling more comfortably into the bed.

"Rebecca?"

No answer.

Clayton sat up, the realization slowly hitting him.

She had fallen asleep, which meant no, he wasn't about to have sex.

Having no need to hide it, he growled in frustration as he got up and redid his jeans, not even remembering undoing them. He looked at her again, like maybe she would wake up and they could continue, but she didn't.

He let out another disappointed growl.

Just as he was about to leave he had a sudden moment of clarity, and he turned back to pull her shirt back down. Did he need to be watching her? He didn't want to, so he decided to go look for her friends.

The sounds and lights were a lot harsher outside the room, but they mostly bounced off of him as he tried to think where her friends were going to be. He breathed out another frustrated sigh. But this was what he wanted before, wasn't it?

And then he looked at the other door they had tried. Did the lesbians know Rebecca?

Lesbians, is that what they were?

Clayton's hormonal ache made itself known again, pulsing between his legs, and he whined silently. It couldn't hurt to ask, he reasoned.

He walked as steadily as he could, and when he got to the door, knocked out of politeness. But then he opened the door anyway.

They were both still there, clothed now, the Retriever sitting on the bed and the Spaniel by the window. They looked at him, once again surprised by the intrusion. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed.

"Can we help you?" asked the Retriever impatiently.

"Oh, uh..." It took Clayton a second to remember why he came in. "...Um, do you know Rebecca?"

"Why?" asked the Spaniel quickly.

"She's..." But then the voice started settling in, and Clayton looked hard at the Spaniel's face. "...Are you her cousin?"

The Retriever looked back at him, but the Spaniel seemed to ignore the comment. "What about Rebecca?" he asked. Because now it was definitely a he, the Coyote realized.

"Oh, no...Um, she fell asleep."

"...Oh," he sighed.

"I thought...someone should watch her."

"...Yeah," agreed the Spaniel. He shared a look with his friend.

"You going to stay with her?" she asked him.

He stared at her for a moment longer, looking annoyed before sighing again. "Yeah," he replied. "Call me when we're leaving at least?"

"Yup."

The Spaniel walked toward Clayton, who moved out of the doorway. He stopped in front of him, pausing a moment before saying, "Where is she?"

"Oh," said Clayton, and then he pointed toward the door were his one night stand had failed to take place. But his mind was thinking about the night before. Before the Spaniel could walk away, and because the alcohol had destroyed any tact he might have otherwise had, Clayton asked, "Are you gay?"

The Spaniel froze, his eyes widening for a moment, but then he quickly hurried past the Coyote into the hallway.

Clayton watched him go, confused by the lack of answer and his level of intoxication, until the Retriever appeared beside him.

"You better not think of starting something, got that?" she told him coldly.

"O...okay?"

She sized him up for a moment before walking away too.

Unsure of what to do, Clayton went down stairs to look for his friends. He realized the beer he had been drinking earlier had vanished, so he found the nearest cooler and picked out another one. Some part of him thought that maybe he shouldn't drink anymore, but the rest of him was really thirsty for another.

As soon as he stepped outside the cold air made him want to urinate, so he quickly rushed over to a spot behind a tree where he thought no one would see him. Undoing his jeans made him horny again, and after he finished he gave himself a stroke.

He had missed his chance with Rebecca, and the lesbians had turned out to not be lesbians. At least one of them had had her top off, but the other...

...Wait, that didn't make sense. Hadn't the Spaniel been wearing a bra?

The sound of people shouting reminded Clayton to zip up. He staggered back toward the lights and people, still confused.

"Clay!"

He turned and saw his Lion friend, Chris, coming towards him with a bottle in his hands.

"Chris?"

"He'man," he mostly replied.

"Chris, you're not supposed to be drinking," said the Coyote.

"I know," his friend replied, burying his face in his free hand. "I know, I know, I'm s'ry. But Chelsie came up t'me, and I t'ld her I couldn't but she k'pt offering, and shew's barely wearing anything man."

Clayton looked at him unhappily. "Charlie's going to be pissed dude."

"I know, I know," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the keys. "Here, you're sm'rter, don't los'em."

Clayton sighed and he took them from his friend, knowing that it probably was a better idea that he hold onto them. He was drunk, but not nearly as drunk as the Lion. Charlie was going to be mad enough in the morning without Chris losing his keys too.

"I got head man."

"What?"

"Ch'lsie," repeated Chris. "We went b'nd a tree and sucked my dick."

For whatever reason, the thought process that Clayton's mind followed from hearing that led back to the Spaniel.

"I got to find Rebecca's cousin," he said suddenly, walking back toward the house.

"Go get 'r man!" shouted his friend from behind.

Clayton climbed the steps again, taking a sip from his bottle to calm whatever was going on inside him. At the door he paused, thinking for a moment what to say, but it was only a second before he opened the door anyway.

The Spaniel stood once again by a window, turning to face Clayton as he entered the room. The Coyote closing the door behind him, feeling the odd need to move slowly. The Spaniel's light brown eyes were almost gold in the dim lighting, only the lamp beside the bed illuminating the pale colored room. Clayton saw the bottle he had left earlier sitting on the drawer by the bed, but now it was empty.

"...You drank my beer," he asked, but it came out like a statement.

Instead of apologizing, the Spaniel just shrugged and crossed his arms. "Yup."

Rebecca stirred on the bed, drawing both their attention for a moment.

"She okay?" asked Clayton.

The Spaniel sighed. "Same as ever," he shrugged.

"Hm."

Clayton took another swig of alcohol, and they both stood in silence for a while until eventually the Spaniel asked, "Do you need something?"

The Coyote turned his attention back to him, remembering why he came in here. "...You were wearing a bra," he said, his question turning into a statement again.

For a second the Spaniel looked surprised, maybe even worried, but it quickly melted back to indifference. Clayton thought he was going to deny it, but instead he said "And you're wearing a jacket."

"...What?"

"Nothing," said the other male, his tone annoyed. It made Clayton feel like he had missed something obvious.

"Uh..."

"What do you want Clayton?"

"...How did you know my name?"

The Spaniel rolled his eyes, making Clayton feel stupid again. His ears lowered a bit.

"I was in your calculus class in high school," he answered.

And then it came back to him. That was where he had seen the Spaniel before, school.

"Oh...Yeah, I remember."

The Spaniel didn't respond. He turned around and faced the window again, but instead of looking down at the people below his eyes were facing forward.

The Coyote's eyes watched him for a moment, thinking out the words before asking, "...Are you gay?"

The Spaniel turned back around. "What?"

Clayton walked closer to him, the gears in his head turning again. When he got too close the Spaniel took a step back, and Clayton thought he almost looked afraid.

"What?" he asked, his voice less steady than before.

"Are you gay?"

"None of your business," he replied.

Clayton made an annoyed sound, leaning his body closer. "Come on. Are you?"

"What's it to you?" said the Spaniel, stepping back from the now clearly larger male.

"Just tell me."

"Why?"

"'Cause..." Clayton tried to think of the answer, the alcohol making things less clear. "'Cause you were wearing a bra."

The Spaniel faltered for a moment.

"...Just leave me alone," he said as he tried to push the other male back. But the alcohol was calling the shots, so Clayton grabbed onto the Spaniel's arm with his free hand, making him freeze.

"No. Just, are you gay?"

"Careful Coyote," warned the Spaniel steadily, beginning to bristle. "You almost sound eager."

Clayton paused, surprised by the comment. Eager? He looked down at his hand, holding onto the other male. Why did he care so much? He remembered the night before, and thought about what he was doing now. Why was this guy getting to him so much? Was he...

"...Can I kiss you?"

"...What?"

That, evidently, was not what the Spaniel had expected. It took Clayton a moment to process it himself, but when he did he asked again.

"Can I kiss you?"

The Spaniel stared at him, unbelieving. "N-No."

"Please?"

"You're drunk."

"No that...I mean, before...And you drank too," he accused.

"I'm not drunk." The Spaniel insisted

"You're not?"

"No. I don't know. Not enough." He tried to pull out of the Coyote's grasp, but it was too strong.

"Come on."

The Spaniel looked at him like he was crazy. "Why?"

"I, I don't know," replied Clayton. "Just let me see."

"See what?"

Clayton let out a grunt of impatience. The alcohol and his sexual frustration were pushing his desire forward. He tightened his grip on Spaniel's arm and leaned forward. The Spaniel quickly pushed away, but then his back hit the window, and he was cornered.

"Hey n-" he tried to shout, but the Coyote closed the distance between their faces, silencing him. He pressed his lips against the smaller male's hard, barely feeling as the Spaniel's body tried to push him away. He heard him whining into his mouth, but something about it just urged him on. The Spaniel's free hand pushed against his chest as his legs tried to find enough room to strike, but those were pinned by the Coyote's too.

But then his resistance started to falter. His legs gave up, and his rough shoves started to become come much softer presses. His fingers started to grip the Coyote's shirt instead of pushing it away as his body gradually stopped squirming. The whining in his throat started gaining a new quality, until finally when the Coyote's tongue begged entrance into his mouth he reluctantly parted his lips.

The feeling of being orally penetrated made the Spaniel's body tense, and he tightened his grip on the Coyote's shirt. The larger male growled indulgently into his throat, and he made a sound that was closer to a moan. Both their heart's hammered a mile a minute. Clayton's other hand snaked around the Spaniel's waist, his mind lost to the pleasure of the kiss. It wasn't until they started running out of air that Clayton finally pulled away.

They opened their eyes, staring at each other as their labored breathing filled the room.

Clayton tried to process what had just happened. He had just made out with Rebecca's male cousin.

He had kissed a boy.

And he had liked it.

"Shit," he panted.

"...What?"

"...I think I'm gay."

Somehow, even after all that, the Spaniel managed to be snarky.

"Figure that all out on your own?" he breathed.

Clayton made an annoyed face, but shrugged it off just as quickly.

"Um...Do you want to go again?" he asked.

The Spaniel looked at him, searching his face, and Clayton noticed that they were still clinging to each other. He could feel the other male's alcohol breathe on his face, and quickly noticed that he liked being this close to the Spaniel. But then the Spaniel pulled away.

"You're drunk," he mumbled.

Clayton's ears fell a little until he saw the Spaniel's hand reach for his own. Instead though, it closed around the bottle he was still holding, so he surrendered it and watched as the Spaniel took a small swig.

"Okay," he said.

"Huh?"

The Spaniel grunted in annoyance and averted his gaze. "We can...do it again, if you want."

A smile appeared quickly on the Coyote's face, tail wagging as he put his arms around the Spaniel once more. The smaller boy braced himself against the Coyote as he brought their lips together, and this time he managed to kiss back. It wasn't the smoothest kiss, a little sloppy since they were both intoxicated to some extent, but damn if they both didn't enjoy it thoroughly. As the kiss dragged on the Spaniel became braver, arms starting to reach around the Coyote's body, pulling him deeper into it, to which Clayton happily obliged.

They pulled away again when Rebecca made another sound, but when they looked she was still out cold. When Clayton tried to resume the Spaniel stopped him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

The Spaniel was silent for a second, staring into the Coyote's face. "You don't even know my name," he said.

Clayton's brow furrowed. "...Oh." He tried to remember if he ever heard the teacher call it, but his mind couldn't really remember. "I...I think it started with a G?"

The Spaniel's expression flickered. "Yeah, it does."

"Um...what is it?"

He thought for a moment, and then backed away from the Coyote again.

"Forget it."

"No, no," said Clayton, grabbing his hand quickly. "I want to know, please?" He looked into the Spaniel's eyes, pleading.

The other boy took a few seconds, thinking it over. Finally he said, "Ask me when you're sober."

Clayton made another face. "Alright," he sighed, taking another drink from the bottle. "...Can we kiss some more?"

"Are you even really gay?"

"I don't know," he answered, shrugging. Then he reached his arms around the Spaniel, pulling him against him. "So can we?" he asked.

Mind clouded by the drinks and the physical contact, the Spaniel just nodded slowly. This time the kiss was a bit more reserved, but no less enjoyable. Their lips pressed together, softer than before, but still firm. Clayton's tongue again requested entrance, and the Spaniel granted it much more willingly now, heartbeat racing from feeling a foreign appendage inside of him. The Coyote's arms were warm against him, his fur warm under his fingers, and the Spaniel felt like he was starting to burn up until a voice sent a cold shock of surprise down his body.

"Graham?"

They both quickly turned around, and saw the Retriever girl standing in the doorway.

"Susan," said the Spaniel, stepping away quickly from the Coyote. "What...What are you doing here?"

"Everyone was already too drunk to talk to," she said, closing the door behind her as a smirk appeared on her face. "But I guess maybe your drunk enough too."

"What?" He glanced at the Coyote. "No, I, we-"

"Were just making out," finished the Retriever.

"Um..."

He looked to the Coyote again, who just stared back at him. Some part of Clayton's mind was aware that the current situation had the potential to go awry, but mostly he just wanted to kiss the Spaniel some more.

"Clayton Anderson though," said the Retriever, making the Coyote smirk sheepishly. "I did not expect that."

"Sue you can-"

"Relax Graham," she said, cutting the Spaniel off. "You know I'm not going to tell anyone." Clayton looked to the Spaniel, who didn't look very reassured. "I was going to ask if we should take everyone home now, but if you need a few more minutes..."

"No," he answered quickly, to Clayton's disappointment. The Spaniel looked at him briefly, and Clayton couldn't help feeling a little betrayed. Weren't they just making out? "We should get Rebecca home anyway."

"Alright," she shrugged.

The Spaniel walked past the Coyote, ducking his head a bit as Clayton's eyes followed him. He and the Retriever roused the Skunk girl awake enough to sit her up, wrapping an arm around either one of their shoulders and hoisting her up. Clayton, not knowing what else to do, followed them to the stairs, where it became clear that they couldn't get her down on their own.

"Um, let me," he said, taking her from them and cradling her into his arms. But he was too uncoordinated to make it safely down the stairs, so instead they held her by her shoulders and legs and awkwardly carried her down. Then they maneuvered through the crowd of people out the door and towards the field of abandoned cars.

The night had become significantly colder, and both the Coyote and the Spaniel craved another drink. They maneuvered through the mostly abandoned cars, ignoring the occupied ones, until they stopped at green one.

Susan pulled out keys and unlocked the back door. Rebecca mumbled something as they eased her into one of the seats, but they mostly ignored it.

"Alright," said the dark brown Canine. "You guys watch her, I'll try to find everyone else. Keep your phone out in case I need you to help drag anyone else here."

"Alright," said the Spaniel.

And then she left, leaving the two boys alone. The Spaniel was avoiding looking at the Coyote, instead crossing his arms and looking down at the floor. Clayton, not wanting to leave, just watched him for a moment.

"...You're names Graham," said Clayton eventually.

The Spaniel, Graham, glanced over at him.

"...Yeah."

The various songs and noises from the house could still be heard, but there was enough distance between it and them that they could also hear the crickets start to chirp. But instead Clayton listened to his own voice as he sounded the name again.

"Graham...Graham."

"What's wrong with it," said the Spaniel, becoming defensive.

"No," said Clayton quickly. "I like it. It sounds nice."

"...Oh," he replied, shifting awkwardly.

Clayton stared at him, particularly his lips. Until the Spaniel glanced at him again, and their eyes met. Then he found that his gaze was split between the two.

"Do you want to go out with me?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" The Spaniel asked loudly.

"Do you want to go out with me?"

Graham shook his head, looking annoyed. "How drunk are you?" he asked roughly.

But then the Coyote came up close to him, making him rigid as the larger boy's hands held the sides of his arms. "No,...I like you. Even before drinking, I think."

"...You think?"

Clayton shook his head dismissively and shrugged. "I mean, I was thinking about Rebecca, but then I thinking about you."

"You were thinking about me?" Graham asked. "When?"

Clayton shrugged again. "When I was, jacking off."

Graham's eyes widened as he felt his face burn up. Then he stepped back, pulling himself out of the Coyote's hold. "You, what?" he shouted.

"No," Clayton said quickly. "I mean, even afterwards, I was still thinking about you, like...I kept hearing your voice..."

The Spaniel stared at him, his expression incredulous. "You are drunk."

Clayton grumbled, stepping towards the Spaniel. "Aren't you drunk?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around Graham's waist again.

Once again the Spaniel's mind was clouded by the proximity of the Coyote's face to his. His priorities became fuzzy as his body adjusted to the comfort of being held.

"...Drunk enough," he mumbled.

Their lips met

It wasn't until they heard the intoxicated laughter approaching that Graham pulled them apart again. Susan had returned with two more people, who were lucid enough to get themselves in the car.

"Here," she said, stuffing a piece of paper into Clayton's jean pocket. "Don't lose it okay?"

Confused, Clayton just nodded, turning back to Graham as the Retriever went around to the driver's side.

"You're leaving?" he asked the Spaniel.

Graham nodded. "Yeah...So um, see you around, maybe." Clayton wanted to say something, but the Spaniel didn't give him a chance as he started climbing into the passenger seat. "Bye," he added, giving the Coyote once last light brown stare before closing the door.

"Bye," Clayton said quietly as he watched the car try and maneuver past all the others. When it was out of sight he turned around to face the lights and music of the party. "I don't know how I'm getting home," he mumbled to himself as he started to make his way back. He needed another drink.

****************************

The first thing that hit him was his headache, and it hit him hard. Then he became aware of the ache in his arm. He opened his eyes and found himself lying awkwardly in Charlie's car, and he vaguely remembered taking refuge there the night before. He throat was painfully dry as he shifted around. He was reclined in the driver's seat, and when he turned he saw Aron passed out in the back.

Clayton reached over and shook him awake.

"Hey," he said. "We got to find Charlie."

"Uuugghh," his friend grumbled. It took them both a few minutes to actually be able to sit up. Then Aron asked, "What time is it?"

The Coyote reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, but instead found a piece of paper. Confused, he unwrinkled it to reveal a phone number, with the words "You know who's" written above it.

"Oh shit," said Aron from the back seat, leaning forward and patting his friend on the shoulder. "Is that Rebecca's number?"

But Clayton didn't respond. The events of the night before were slowly coming back to him.

No, it wasn't Rebecca's number, he realized.

It wasn't even a girl's number.

***

>SEARCHING FOR SILVER CLOUDS by RIOTOUSRUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <

Go Read It Now!!!!!! MAN you don't even know!! I smiled and then I cried and then I smiled and then I cried and don't read it cause you'll cry but read it cause you'll cry so hard!!!! And then go read his other things because he is just a great writer overall. And post new stories more often than other....certain....people..............I apologize for nothing.

I don't know, I love the characters, but I don't know about this story man. Maybe I'm just out of it. I probably shouldn't have posted it yet, but it is too late for that.

Also I've never experienced being drunk or most other things in this story and am mostly going off what Google tells me and other stories I read. But what if we are all doing that, and people who really have experienced those things are looking at us like "you guys have no idea what you're talking about." If you're one of those people, and see a glaring misconceptions or something like that, please let me know so that I can make things less obviously guessed at.

I really should just be sticking with the other series I got going on but nope, I'm potentially starting yet another one instead.Have I made the wrong choices with my life? Let me know with your words and shapes and stares so that I know whether to keep going with this one.