FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Kiel once asked me what it was like to be an introvert. I hadn't answered him then. I knew what he wanted to hear, which meant I had to pick between a lie and a wrong answer. I didn't want a fight, so I said nothing--acted like I hadn't heard him. We'd have a 'talk', and eventually I'd grow so frustrated with having to 'talk' that he'd win by default. And then he'd expect me to change.

It had been a Friday night. Kiel was going out to the Pussycat again. He'd come back smelling of booze and sweat and sex, wobbling unsteadily on those stumpy legs of his. There's something pitiable about a drunk otter--the way that over-long body weaves and bobs just attempting to stay upright I didn't like him when he was drunk, but it was okay. We had an arrangement.

I remember it keenly, because in all the time I've known him, it's the only time he's ever even acted curious about the 'way I was'. Every weekend it was a recurring litany. "Eli, come out and play!" There'd be something about dragging me out of my shell, and then he'd be disappointed when I shook my head. I never said anything. I wasn't a mute, but there just wasn't any way to answer him--not that wouldn't mean a 'discussion'. And I fucking hated those.

So, Kiel, you're curious what it's like? I'll answer him here in my head, because answering out loud would just be awkward. Here's what it's like: it's normal. Sure, it's a bit awkward, but 'a little bit awkward' is pretty much par for the course even for people who aren't like me--the only difference is that when I'm awkward, I just hang my head and shuffle off. When Kiel's awkward, he crashes and burns in spectacular style. Sometimes it's funny to watch, if only because he usually deserves it. Sometimes I wish he'd learn from his fuck-ups and learn to shut his mouth, but it's just not his style.

Occasionally I really wish he'd shut up for a little while. Then again, if he did, he wouldn't really be Kiel. With his diminutive stature, you'll always hear him before you see him. Anyway, wishing he were different--wouldn't that be hypocritical of me? I think that was the biggest disconnect between him and I. He believes that to be an introvert is to be discontent with it. He believes that in every one of us is a budding extrovert searching for a way out. What a surprise he'd find--if I finally dropped my 'quiet introvert mask' and let him see the real me, what he'd find was in fact a quiet introvert.

Things had been pretty steady-state through the entirety of my sophomore year with Kiel and me. We'd met over a collaborative project in lab for thermodynamics, and we'd hit it off immediately. Wait, let me correct that. He'd hit it off immediately. Me? I'd just hung on for the ride. I'll admit now, it'd been fun. When he was still making the effort to impress me, he had utterly humiliated me on multiple occasions: flowers in public before lecture, rum-filled chocolates to my home address during Christmas break. He'd even dunked us both into pond on campus in between classes. I'd been late to lecture because I refused to show up without drying and changing my clothes. He had his reasons--he said I was gorgeous when my clothes were wet. Ass hole. Just because he's an otter, he assumes everyone likes taking mid-day dips. Then after those weeks of burning intensity had faded, we'd just been 'us'. We'd been that way for a year. He, the outgoing and universally loved lump of an otter, and me, the quiet tiger.

I know, who would ever believe that a tiger could be an introvert? We had always been the symbols of power and dominance. Some of my family had even been in the commercials, selling soft drinks and tires and condoms, all with 'Tiger Power'. Damn them. They made being me a whole lot harder. I could see the expectations when people saw me. Tiger: brash, loud, and sexy. It's only because of constant reinforcement from Kiel that I believed I personified even one of the three.

So where am I going with this? Well, remember when I said I hated 'discussions'? Yeah, I have reason. See, when Kiel got it into his head that I needed help (for my own good, apparently) we'd have one of those. He'd tell me how wonderful it is to be a part of everything--to be seen, heard, and loved by everyone within eye-shot. Hit the dance floor, he'd said, and I'd be a whole new cat. Damn him. A whole new cat? What if I was happy with who I was? Did he never consider that?

"I don't want to, Kiel. I can't dance, anyway." It was a friday evening, I'd broken my own first rule already--never engage with him.

"It's not really dancing anyway. It's just sort of bouncing to the rhythm. Come on, Eli. I know you can keep a beat--I see you tapping along with your music when you're thinking." He was so smooth, with an answer for everything on the tip of his tongue. The only answer that would have been honest is the one he wouldn't accept. I just didn't want to--I didn't want to change. I didn't want to not be me.

"Bullshit. I watch movies with you. How many times have you pointed out someone on the screen and said, verbatim 'What the hell is he doing? He can't even dance?' Your words, Kiel. Anyway, why's this such a big deal now? Nothing's changed since the last time you asked."

"There's an LGBT party on the lawn tomorrow. I thought you might like to join me."

I felt an immediate chill. Out in front of all the people I knew? Faceless strangers were hard enough, but people I knew, that was a whole different world of 'no'. At the end of an embarrassing failure, I'd rather not face the witnesses again the morning. I could almost see them giggling when I wasn't looking, remembering what I looked like out there when-

"No. Not a chance." I stated bluntly. And then Kiel gave me that look. God, he knew how to abuse those cute features of his. His expressive muzzle drooped, and his eyes just stared wide at me, glossy and sad. His tail--always twitching and animated--stopped dead. Hell, even his whiskers drooped.

Damn it. I'd hurt him. He'd really wanted me to go out with him to this. Even though he knew how much I hated being out in public like that, he'd set his sights on it. He _expected_this of me. It was emotional blackmail, and he was a master of it. "Fine, I'll go out with you." His features immediately brightened. "But not to the thing on campus. You're always off and out on the weekends, so I'll just go with you."

He gave a cough. Another fallacy he held: introverts aren't necessarily bad at understanding body language. Just because we don't react to it doesn't mean we don't catch it. Something was wrong here. "Well, we could go down to the Thin Pink Line. It's a bit of a dive, but it can be fun-"

"Wait, aren't you out at the Pussycat every weekend? Why don't we just go there?"

His ears swiveled down evasively. Yeah, he was avoiding something. "Not sure that's your scene. Might be better to go somewhere else."

I was also pretty good at deduction. He was embarrassed. I connected the dots, and it wasn't a pretty picture. He didn't want to be seen there with me. Those were his personal friends--the ones he hung out with every weekend, and he was embarrassed of me. Damn it. My heart fell and my ears burned. It was the only answer that fit. The way he avoided my gaze told me I'd hit the nail on the head.

Now, I'm not normally an angry cat. Most introverts aren't. It takes being comfortable with showing yourself off to work up a good angry head of steam, and it normally didn't work for me, but Kiel's hypocrisy... It just put me through the roof. He spent every weekend trying to get me out, and when I finally relented--when I agreed to let him lead, he didn't want to be seen with me.

"Damn it, Kiel. You've been bugging me about this for as long as we've been together, so get the fuck over yourself. You want me to come out with you, we're going to your regular hangout. If I don't see a sign for 'Pussycat' over the place we go to, I'm leaving without you. Understand me?"

His ears fell. He'd been caught. Good. I hoped he felt like shit. I know I did, for the way he was treating me. In fact... In fact I really didn't want to be around him, right then.

So I went to our room and closed the door. I think he understood, because he didn't follow.

---

When it came to our relationship, I had one rule that I strived to follow: "Don't Engage Kiel". I don't mean for the little things. He's chatty, so I try to keep up my side of the conversation when it sounds like he's looking for input. No, this is in the big things. When it sounds like he's got something in mind, I smile, I nod, and I let it work itself out. That's much better than actually trying to talk him out of whatever he's got his head around that day. "Eli, you should come with me out on the town." Smile, nod. "Eli, don't you have any friends other than me? You should see what they're up to this weekend." Smile, nod. "Eli, you're in the biggest college on this coast. Don't you want to get out and meet some people rather than be cooped up in the dorm room again?" Smile, nod. See, it worked with anything. He'd whine and grumble, make sure he let me know that it'd be for my own good, then give up when I didn't say anything. It wasn't really fulfilling, but it kept the peace.

It seems that every time I break this rule, we have a crisis. It's what I was prepared for on Saturday night, when I stood out in the cold with Kiel, dreading the upcoming disaster. He had driven us south off of campus about half an hour, into down town. The spot we'd landed on looked nothing like what I expected. I had imagined a bright neon sign reading 'Pussycat', with a two-frame animated character making some kind of come-hither gesture. I'd imagined two bouncers in sunglasses (even though it was night time) slowly letting the crowd trickle-feed in past a faux-velvet rope, and every time they opened the door, the 'thump-thump-thump' would leak out.

Instead, it was a dump outside. The building was a squat concrete monstrosity. The few windows in the side facing us were blacked out. There was no neon. Instead, there was graffiti on the concrete of a black cat with yellow eyes. There was no bouncer at the door, but that's probably because the door looked like a rear exit from a warehouse. It had a squeaky horizontal push-bar that admitted us into a room that was devoid of the 'thump-thump' I'd imagined. Just inside the door was the missing bouncer. He was a rat, half my size with a grumpy eye. He took a look at me, scowled, then looked at Kiel and the scowl disappeared. He jerked his head and closed the door behind us. Without a word, Kiel took the door on the left, beckoning me to follow.

It wasn't what I expected. I'd been to the public pool on campus, and what Kiel led me into could only be called a changing room. There were lockers on every wall, and some on islands in the middle of the sizeable room. I stopped at the entrance for two reasons. First, there were people in here already. Five, ten maybe, of varied species and age. Second, they were all naked.

"Kiel, what-"

"Welcome to the Pussycat. Take off your clothes and put them in a locker."

I hestitated. "This isn't what-"

"You expected? Really? Well, that's too bad. You demanded to come along, so here you are. Unless, of course, you want to head back home, and we can do the LGBT party on campus like I'd suggested to start with." He turned on me with a scowl. He definitely wasn't happy, and I started to have the sinking feeling that maybe I'd assumed something wrong.

But none of that made the way he'd treated me 'okay'. The sting of thinking I wasn't 'good enough' for his friends still hurt. I was not going to let him bully me like that. If I'd broken rule number one, at least it was for a good reason--self confidence and pride. And maybe because of the pain, too. I met his glare straight on. "You first."

He shrugged and ducked out of his shirt. His shoes, socks, and pants followed. Then he crossed his arms and watched me. He didn't think I could do it! Tonight was just getting worse and worse. I instantly found myself wishing I hadn't risen to his bait earlier. With my ears burning, I stepped out of my pants and balled them up in one hand. He popped a coin into a nearby locker and gestured to it. He was watching me, waiting for me to break. I steeled myself and the rest of my clothes soon followed.

He paused before closing the locker. "I didn't think you'd do it."

"Yeah, well maybe there's more to me than you think." I answered. He already had my hackles up. Even with the bravado, I was still feeling horribly exposed. When he pulled the key from the lock, I grabbed it from his hands. It was on a chain, so I slipped it over my wrist. I wanted the power to leave to be in my hands, rather than his. Even though I acted with bravado, it was all an act. I wanted nothing more at that point than to grab my clothes back and flee.

But that would be a victory for Kiel. I felt as if I'd crossed some hurdle. I no longer really wanted to be what he expected or wanted me to be tonight. When you spend as much time looking inward as I do, you tend to notice little shifts like that. I resented him for putting me in this position, where my brain told me to go back by my pride wouldn't let me go anywhere but forward.

"Well? Going to show me the club?" I asked acidly.

He shrugged and pushed open another door.

---

Now I could feel the 'thump-thump-thump'. I could only barely see out into the club--the changing room had been bright in comparison and it took half a minute for my eyes to adjust. Kiel took my hand and led me through the portal into what I can only describe as an uninhibited bacchanal. The club was multi-story, with a fog-shrouded dance floor surrounded on three sides by balconies. The music was overwhelmingly loud, so much so that I saw Kiel's mouth moving, but I couldn't tell what he was saying. I felt my ears fold back of their own accord, and he pulled me forward. Away from the changing room, and up a half-flight of stairs to the bar. I stood there while he ordered drinks and looked around. It had felt odd earlier to strip down naked for a club, but as I turned to the left and towards the dance floor, the reason made itself both abundantly and painfully clear.

There were two people--a sable and a dog of some sort--grinding up against each other. No, not grinding. They were fucking. Even last year when my experience with sex was more academic than practical, I'd have been able to tell you exactly where the anatomy was fitting between these two. I couldn't _not_watch. My first instinct was to feel embarrassed for them, for having caught them in the act. But that was the point, right? I may have been sheltered, but there was simply no other way to connect these dots. The Pussycat was a sex club. People came here to--no,_Kiel_came here to-

"Here, get this down you." I felt Kiel's muzzle brush my ear. He was yelling, and I could still only barely hear him over the bump and grind. Something cold was pushed into my hand. I looked down dumbly at it, and Kiel decided to stop waiting for me and lifted my own hand--and the cup--up to my lips. The options were drink or drown, so I swallowed. It tasted like paint stripper smells, and burned the whole way down. Before my scattered wits had finally returned, Kiel managed to get two more of the shots down my throat. He took my hand and dragged me up a flight of stairs. The whole while, my head was twisted around, watching the fucking couple. I imagined I could hear the noises they were making. 'Shlick-shlick-shlick'. The sense of out-of-place-ness increased. Everything spun a little bit.

Then Kiel pushed me down into a seat. The music wasn't so loud up here. When Kiel's lips moved, I heard what he said clear as day. "This is why I didn't want to bring you. Get it now?"

"It's a fucking sex club!" It burst out without any real conscious control.

"Yes, it's a sex club, and fucking is normally what happens in a sex club. If it's good, that is."

I put my head in my hands. No, no, no... This is what happens when I break my own rules. How did I get here?

Hands pulled my head up, and lips met mine. Kiel's lips tasted like beer. Everything was spinning a bit more. I know, I should be ashamed to admit it, but I'm a lightweight. Even with the whole 'tiger' thing, I was a cheap drunk. I rarely drank at all, so when Kiel managed to get some in me, it was just a few shots between door and floor.

When he finished the kiss, he pushed another shot to my lips, and I drank. I really should have had dinner before I came out, but I figured I didn't want to do this on a full stomach. More the fool, me. At least I'd had a good lunch. After that shot, I finally felt ready to open my eyes again. The balcony where we sat was dark and smoky from the overflow from the dance floor. We had a table made of clear glass, on which sat two more shots of whatever he'd been stuffing down my throat. I tried to ignore that I could clearly see Kiel's sheath and nuts through it.

"Fuck you, Kiel. You could have just told me."

"Yeah. And you could have asked. You were so damn stubborn about coming along, I just-"

"No. Just fucking no. You could have told me a long time ago. Is this how you're spending all your nights now?" Things spun again.

"Yes. That's exactly how I spend my nights. What, are you expecting me to be ashamed of it? Or have you forgotten that you agreed we could go out and have fun on the side? We agreed-" He was getting angry now too. Well fuck him.

I shook my head. I shouldn't have, because I felt just a touch of nausea. The beat picked up, and it was just a bit too loud for my tastes. It was giving me a headache. "We agreed we could play around. Don't you think there's a difference between playing around and frequenting a... A..." I opened my arms. I was having trouble coming up with a word to describe all this. "This?"

"No. In fact, didn't I ask you if you wanted me to tell you all about the fun I had? 'No, Kiel. I don't want to know. Just have your fun.' Your own fucking words."

I remembered it. He had told me about someone he'd met. I think it was a skunk, because he'd smelled of skunk when he came home. Then he'd got explicit about his 'conquest', and I'd said something very much like what he'd just said. He was right. I had said it. I really didn't have any right to be angry.

And yet... "But don't you think this is different, Kiel? This is just not right!"

"For you, maybe. But for me, this is-Oh!"

Someone had walked up behind Kiel and reached around. I watched without comment as the stranger closed fingers around his sheath. There were simply no words for how I was feeling.

"Hey Papa otter. Who's the big kitty?" A head appeared over Kiel's shoulder. It was another canid--a german shepherd I think. The dog muzzle hung wide open and leered at me with tongue dangling from one side.

"That's my boyfriend." The paw on his sheath uncurled, but Kiel slapped his own hand over it, keeping the dog's fingers in place. "We have an arrangement, don't we?"

Not like this, I screamed in my head at him. Do not drag our dirty laundry out in public. Do not make me decide how I feel about this in front of someone else, not like this. I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to look at them.

"Sure." I forced out. I was not feeling okay about this, so I grabbed the fifth shot from the table. By the time it burned down my throat, I felt slightly less. Not specifically less bad or less angry, but just less in general.

"He decided he wanted to see the scene." Kiel was looking meaningfully at me. Was I? Is that what I wanted still? I'd just wanted to get back at Kiel, but I was feeling like I was the one who was getting 'gotten' here.

The dog detached himself from Kiel and oozed towards me. It was the only word I could use for the way he moved. He put his hands on me, and I immediately shrank back.

"No! No, I mean, that's fine. You two go for it. I want to just... Be." I finished lamely. Kiel's friend seemed to get the hint. Without anything more said, the dog dropped to his knees and crawled under the table. Not that it was hiding anything. I could watch as the dog's thick fingers tugged at Kiel's sheath and the long and slobbery tongue pulled the tip of his cock into that broad muzzle. If I wanted to watch, which right now felt like a really bad idea. So instead I looked down onto the dance floor.

At least the dance floor was interesting. Maybe it was that I could focus on something that wasn't my boyfriend getting a blowjob, but whatever the reason, I found when I focused that all the uncomfortableness going on behind me went away. So that's what I did. It was interesting in an almost purely theoretical way, seeing the patterns of people gyrating and grinding down on the wood-panelled floor. It was mesmerising the way they would all bump and twist in time with the beat. From above, I could see certain strata of dancers, as if it were all one big model of a planetary body. Out in its "atmosphere", things weren't quite so clear. Some of the people there were the non-dancers. They were the ones pointedly not-dancing even though they were close enough that everyone around them was. Further towards the center of the floor we hit the crust, and even the I'm-not-dancing dancers were moving in time to the beat. This layer, though, wasn't really the _dancing_dancers. It seemed mostly composed of watching-while-bouncing dancers. Most of them were facing inwards towards the middle layer, the true _dance_floor.

People in the middle must have been the extroverts of the lot, displaying themselves and their skills to an audience. It looked less like a dance floor and more like a bulletin board full of advertisements. "Dance with me, and you get all of this!" "No one else out here has moves like this!" There were some classy ones, whose moves were controlled and obviously practiced. There were some wild ones, with limbs spread and flailing about with little care for decency or their own flopping anatomy. Then there were a few that I could only call professional-

"He's such a slut."

I felt annoyed to be brought back to the same world as Kiel and his dog, especially with a comment that made so little contextual sense. Who was such a slut? When I looked back at them, Kiel had the unnamed german shepherd's ears between his fingers and was pulling the dog's head down against his crotch. Once I identified who was doing what to whom, I very pointedly didn't watch.

"What?"

"Tom. That bunny you were looking at." I looked down at the dance floor again. Even though I hadn't specifically noticed him before, it wasn't hard to determine who Kiel was talking about. The rabbit was tearing up the floor. I may not be any good at dancing, but I'd seen enough of it done on TV and in videos that I knew a true master of the art when I saw it. The way he moved--smooth and precise--seemed to be so well practised that it was second nature to him. Most of the rabbits I'd met were in the 'cute and fluffy' range, slightly pudgy and so soft-looking that even I wanted to hug them just to feel how plush they were.

This hare, Tom, was nothing like that. He was lanky, with long limbs slender that he looked more bird-like than plush. He was slim too, though there was a lithe fitness there. It was the body of someone for whom shape wasn't just a hobby, but a source of pride and maybe even a profession. If I had seen him at rest, frozen in time, I would have guessed that he was clumsy. With legs like that, how could he put them down in exactly the right spot every time? But he wasn't, and he did. Each and ever step seemed rehearsed.

"Yeah. Him." Behind me, Kiel's voice was sour. Through the glass tabletop, I could see that the dog had pulled his head back and was licking his lips. I couldn't tell if Kiel had cum, or whether that was all just an appetizer. Honestly, at that point I just couldn't bring myself to care.

"Really? A slut, you say?" I looked down at the naked, hard, and recently-been-sucked otter meaningfully. Sure we had our arrangement, even if it was feeling sore and abused at the moment, but there was only so much of Kiel's hypocrisy I could stomach.

He blundered on, missing all of the sarcasm I'd loaded the statement with. Maybe the music was too loud. Or maybe he was just being an asshole. "Yeah. I swear everyone in the club's been under his tail at least once."

I didn't understand. I'd never seen Kiel deride anyone for sex before--but then again I'd never seen him in what appeared to be his native environment until now. Well, if he was going to be offensively oblivious, then I was going to match him blow for stupid blow. I had exhausted any reserves of 'care' that'd been left behind, and I didn't particularly feel like following my own rules with the way he'd been acting.

"Oh. I see. Well, how was he?" I tried to put my most innocuous smile on my face.

"How was he what?" It took a few moments for what I'd implied to register. "Oh hell no, I haven't done him! Wouldn't fuck that with a stolen cock."

I shrugged. More so than anything else right now, I wanted to be away from him. "I'm going to dance." He gave me a strange look before I turned away from him. I'm not sure what he made of that--his shy and reclusive boyfriend willingly walking down to the dance floor alone. He must have thought I was insane. Hell, I thought I was insane, but I just couldn't stand being there any longer. Humiliation and embarrassment were far preferable to putting up with Kiel's shit for even one minute longer.

***

I regretted that decision at least five times before I even reached the dance floor, and it was only a flight of stairs away. As I approached, the music swelled again until my temples started to buzz each time the rhythm thumped. What was I doing? People around me were turning to look at me. No, don't look at me--I'm naked! What was I doing? With each step, I was uncomfortably conscious of the way my anatomy was jostling around in open air. The place smelled like liquor and smoke and sex, and this wasn't my thing. Everyone's watching. Everyone's looking. What was I doing here?!

And then the dance floor consumed me. Is it hard to believe that here, where I should have been most conspicuous, instead I felt the most secure? It's as if I'd passed through a membrane, and here everyone was ignoring me. In the crowd of lurching dancers, I was invisible. It was nothing like what Kiel had shown me on TV. There, everyone seemed scripted and rehearsed, but here it was as if everyone was reading from a different script. From above I had been able to mark and judge each of the dancers on individual skill and finesse, but down on the floor it was far too cluttered and foggy. Instead, it all melted into a backdrop of thumping, rolling people.

I tried to 'let the music take me', as I'd heard the modern poets espouse. When that failed, I tried to 'cut loose' and 'just feel the beat'. I finally settled for bobbing in approximate time with the rhythm of the music. The drinks Kiel had pushed down my throat were affecting my coordination, so I didn't trust myself with anything more than an up-and-down motion. Every time I tried to branch out to the sides, I felt like I'd stumble at any moment.

Some of that 'Dancing-trance' bullshit must have been true, though, because the next time I looked, I'd been drawn further towards the middle--onto the wooden platform that designated 'Here, people be dancing.' I didn't feel bad, though. At least, I didn't feel as bad as I'd expected. No one was making obvious signs of dismissal, banishing me from their presence for my inept dancing. I could almost ignore the fact that here I was, vertical motions causing my genitals to bounce quite alarmingly in view of everyone...

Okay, now that I'd started to think about it, I was getting considerably less 'okay' with it. No, don't think about it. It's just dancing, no one's paying attention. Just smile, try to keep the rhythm, and oh-holy-fuck--those dogs are fucking right in front of me.

And they were really going at it, too. It was a pair of huskies, or malamutes--not as if I could tell the difference--and they were making one hell of a mess out on the dance floor. The front one was bent over, hands to the floor, while the other had his tail and was tugging him back onto a clearly visible and throbbing red knot. They were even undulating against each other in time to the beat. Hello again, crippling embarrassment. I won't say I missed you. Even though the dance floor was a few degrees north of comfortable, everything suddenly felt cold. Ohfuck-ohfuck-ohfuck--I am NOT okay with this.

I turned around. I'd made a mistake. I didn't belong out here. Step-hop-step-hop, keep to the beat. Fuck, fuck, fuck, don't stand out, don't get noticed. What the hell had I been thinking? What was I doing? I should go back to Kiel. I could tell him he'd been right. I shouldn't have broken my rules. If I tell him he'd been right, and I'd been wrong, maybe he'll take me home. Anywhere, in fact. Anywhere I could climb under the blanket and just not _be_for the rest of the night.

I screamed when someone put a hand on my shoulder. I was lucky the scream was only barely audible over the music. Please don't be someone who noticed. Please just be a mistake. I turned around, and I could feel my ears and tail droop. No, please no.

I turned around, and there was Tom.

The lanky lapine was staring directly at me. His ears were erect over his head, and his whiskers were still. Other than getting my attention, he kept his hands to himself. That's good, because if he kept touching me I think I would have freaked. He opened his mouth, but I couldn't hear was he was saying. When I made no reaction, he crooked one finger, then led off the dance floor.

I was caught in indecision. This--this is not even remotely something I'd expected. There'd been no disapproval in his eyes--just concern. Still, he was an unknown. He was a stranger. I really should get back to Kiel...

Who right now was probably balls-deep in that dog that'd been blowing him when I left. I didn't think I could handle it. On the verge of tears, I grasped for the only thing that had shown compassion in the last hour of the horrible night. I followed Tom.

He led me off into a warren of ground-level tables and benches, half-hidden in the smoke and fog drifting off of the dance floor. Here, the beat was just a thump-thump-thump with all the high treble removed. Tom opened a door, and with a hindward glance to make sure I was following, led me through. When the door closed, the music disappeared, leaving just a gentle reverberation and a high-pitched ringing behind. He led me through a maze of hallways, to an unremarkable door where he ushered me through.

He turned back towards me. For someone who'd been dancing so aggressively--metaphorically tearing up the platform--he had a gentle demeanor. He waited for me to get my bearings before he even spoke up, and even then he stayed quiet--respectful, even.

"Hi. I couldn't help but notice that you looked a bit out-of-sorts out there."

That was the understatement of the decade, but I still found myself tongue-tied. Instead of responding verbally, I just nodded.

"I, uh, figured you could use a place to cool down. If you'd like, I can leave you alone for a bit. My name's-"

"Tom?" I bit back a curse as soon as I'd said it. What a time for my tongue to spontaneously un-tie.

His look turned sour. I, an obviously new patron of the club, already knew his name? He seemed to be painfully aware of his own reputation.

"Look, whatever you heard, I'm not like that."

"It was my boyfriend. He's an asshole. You got me off of the dance floor, so if I've got to decide who to believe for first impressions, you're the clear winner so far." I tried to give him a smile, but I think it came out rather lop-sided.

He flashed me a brilliant smile of his own. "Thanks. Look, I can leave you alone if you'd like. I-"

"No!" Now that I'd found a friendly ear, the thought of him abandoning me here seemed almost worse than following him back out onto the dance floor. "No, please don't. I'm okay, I'm just not used to this at all."

"I could tell." The room he'd taken me to wasn't large, but there was a padded bench and an end-table with a drawer. He sat down on one side of the bench, and patted for me to sit next to him. He'd skirted far to one side, anticipating that I'd want some space. Gratefully, I took a seat.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run out there. I knew it was going to freak me out, but..."

"But?" He probed.

"But the alternative was worse. Or, well, I think it was worse at the time."

As if sensing that now was the time to listen, he didn't pry. I think he'd decided that if I was going to provide more information, I'd do it on my own terms. I waited. I was so used to the way Kiel would wheedle and whine for my opinion, that when Tom just let me talk at my own pace I just let it all out. I told him about Kiel, about how I'd talked my way into this mess, and the German Shepherd I was purposefully not going up to meet again. For his part, Tom just listened. That in itself was liberating. Each time I stopped, I expected him to break in with an opinion, or an example from his own life. I was mentally preparing to be horrified with the discovery of all the lewd things he'd done here at the Pussycat. So prepared was I that when he shared none of them and just let me talk, I finally ran dry of things to say.

When I fell silent, he continued to listen mutely. He was waiting, making sure I'd said everything I wanted to. For the first time in a very long time, I felt like the silence had dragged on so long that it'd become uncomfortable. Usually, silence was my friend, but here and now, tonight, I had the urge to hear what Tom had to say.

"Um. Sorry to lay that all on you, but... What do you think?"

He looked square at me, meeting my gaze. He was thinking hard about something--weighing risks and rewards. Then he leaned forward, and before I could pull back, he kissed me. It wasn't a chaste kiss, but it wasn't some elaborate tongue-battle either. Instead, he kissed me firmly to make sure I had no doubts about his opinion. When he finally pulled back, I felt myself leaning forward. It surprised me, and I had to catch myself before I overbalanced. "I think your boyfriend's an idiot, and the only thing you're wrong about is that you think any of this is your fault."

To say I was surprised is to put it mildly. I balled up my fists, preparing for the freak-out that I knew was coming. I'd spazzed when Kiel had kissed me the first time, out in public where everyone was watching. I'd run to my room and had a full-fledged panic attack. I knew it was coming. Three-two-one, nothing. I breathed out, then back in, without any feeling of hyperventilating. No? Three-two-one, still nothing. Second by second, I started to relax. Well, that was anti-climactic. When I opened my eyes again, Tom was sitting just like he had been when he first sat down, with a little hopeful smile on his face.

"Hey, I know it's not home, but want to crash at my place tonight? You obviously don't want to be here, and I don't really want to suggest you go back with your boyfriend right now." His ears laid back, and he appeared to lose about a foot of height.

Sudden memory of what Kiel had said made me tense again. "I don't think I should-"

"No! I don't just invite guys over like that. Not for-" He interjected, then bit his lip. It was a surprisingly insecure tick from someone who appeared to be so confident. "Just to sleep. My sofa's comfy."

The butterflies in my stomach fled and I felt a bit guilty. I mulled his offer over rationally, then nodded.

The trip back through the club was thankfully uneventful. I didn't even see Kiel or his german shepherd before Tom led me back through the locker room where we dressed. We left on foot, and his place wasn't far. His apartment had the college vibe, but given how far it was from campus he was either recently graduated, or attended a different school than I did. With me watching on awkwardly, he cleaned up the little clutter that his lounge had and pulled a rickety-springed sleeper out of his couch.

"It's comfier than it looks. If you want, there's a shower and bathroom at the end of the hall."

I nodded and wrung my hands. I wanted to do something, anything, to show my appreciation. There was a slow burn in my gut, totally unlike the Butterflies of Embarrassment I was so commonly a home to. When he had turned and started to walk further back into the flat, I called out. "Tom. Thanks. Seriously, thanks."

He turned and leaned against a door frame. "No need. I'm actually somewhat disturbed that no one else noticed or cared." I don't think he meant anything specific by it, but Kiel immediately came to mind. No, it wasn't like that. He cared. I knew he cared. I just also knew he thought this was 'good for me'.

"Tom, I-" I licked the roof of my mouth. It was dry. "I'm sorry about what Kiel said about you."

"Remember what I said? Not your fault."

"I know, but if..." How does Kiel do it? How does anyone do it. It felt uncomfortable. What do I even say that doesn't sound cheesy? I looked down, so I wouldn't have to see his rejection if it came. When it came. "If you want to anyway, I would."

He didn't respond immediately. I was afraid I'd insulted him, but when I looked up at him again, he was just giving me a long stare.

"You don't owe me anything."

"I didn't say I did." I stood up and walked to him. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to approach him, but I wanted to. I hadn't wanted to like this since... Well, I hadn't ever wanted to, not like this. Fuck, I was still drunk. I felt the room spin a little, but I managed to stay on course. He stayed leaning against the door. He didn't reach out to me, but he didn't run away, either.

"You're drunk. You're angry at your boyfriend."

"Yes. And yes." Fuck yes I was, but that wasn't why. I pushed past his argument and reached for him, but he pulled away.. "And you, you're-"

"Going to bed. You should too. Sorry Eli, just..." The look on my face must have melted his heart a little bit, because he shook his head. "Look, this isn't a no. Ask me again in the morning when you're sober."

---

I woke up at 12:00am, or so the blinking devices in Tom's lounge told me. When I checked my mobile, it instead told me that it was 3:30am. I'd never been able to sleep peacefully in someone else's house and Tom's was no exception, even though his couch was as comfy as he claimed. I put my mobile away and flopped back onto the lie-low. As plush as it felt, my mind wasn't on the quality of his furniture.

I told myself I was being stupid. It wouldn't have been the first time. Hell, it wouldn't have been the first time that evening. I should just roll over and go to bed. I tried to do so, and simply lay there. Minute after minute I lay on Tom's couch, head buried in the pillow. I hadn't noticed it earlier, but the sheets smelled of rabbit. That wasn't helping. I rolled onto my back, but that didn't help either. Now I was tenting the blanket. Fuck.

When I rolled out of bed, the springs creaked alarmingly. Somehow, I felt guilty. It was like I was a kid again, sneaking through the house to get an illicit snack from the kitchen. I walked to Tom's door. No, scratch that. I crept to Tom's door, testing each footfall carefully for squeaks and groans. He'd left it open a crack, and the hinges made no sound when I pushed it open. He had broad bay windows, letting in pallid moonlight that fell across his bed. He'd kicked the covers to the side and was laying naked on his front, one leg crooked up at an angle. He was... He was the hottest single thing I'd ever seen.

He only shifted a little when I crawled onto the bed. Then one of his large ears lifted, and I paused. Everything stood still as he struggled his way to consciousness, and I was suddenly struck with where I was, and what I was doing. I'd been stupid again. Embarrassment flared.

"Eli?"

"Yes?" I answered guiltily. I felt the erection that had carried me this far start to droop.

"Oh." His head lifted, though he didn't change position. When I shifted to go--to hide--he squirmed down on the bed covers towards me. "No! Don't go."

I looked down at him. His legs had pulled up, and his tail was wiggling up over a lusciously round rump. The moonlight had bleached everything gray, so I only caught hints and tufts of fur suggesting the shape of his anatomy.

I hesitated. He was so close. Close enough to touch, close enough to bury my muzzle against that expressive little puff of a tail and breathe in the smell of rabbit.

"Yes, Eli. My answer's yes. Yes, please." He pleaded, and all embarrassment fled. I reached down, hesitantly running my hand across the curve of his rump. It was so small in comparison to my massive palm and fingers. With his ears so tall, it hadn't really struck me until now that I truly dwarfed him. He moaned and pushed himself up onto all fours. God, his pelt was so soft, and he was making such needy sounds. I crooked a thumb down under his tail and felt smooth skin. I leaned my head down and pushed my nose against the bottom of his back. A hot breath flattened his fur, then when I inhaled I got my first real taste of him. It woke something--something a lot less embarrassed of what I was doing than I myself was. I opened my mouth, and closed it over one cheek of his rump. He gave a squeak, and any self-control I had remaining vanished.

It was as if I was a backseat driver of my own body as I buried my muzzle underneath his tail and started to lick. He kept making little squealing sounds until he grabbed his pillow and bit down. With hands cupping his rump cheeks, I pushed one finger at his pucker. Lubricated with saliva, it slid inside with little effort. A muffled groan urged me to continue. Then I was up above him, hands pushing him firmly down against the mattress as I ground my erection against his tail. He had me painfully hard, and I dripped and drooled runny pre to mix with the saliva. When I leaned my hips back to angle down, penetration was wet.

It was a novel sensation. Oh, did I not mention? I'd always been a bottom, and Kiel was an experienced top. It's not that we hadn't talked about letting me top, but it had always been 'some day', and 'some day' had never arrived. Now that I was trying it myself, I absolutely loved the way that slippery ring of muscle squeezed and clenched all the way down my cock as I pushed in. Inside, he was soft and velvety. It wasn't like any toy I'd ever tried (or had tried out on me.) It especially wasn't like a muzzle, where even with the best tongue I could always feel the hard little nubs of teeth. No, this was just pure, unadulterated bliss. It was sinking into joy; grinding myself down into liquid pleasure. And then my sheath kissed his tail.

He didn't say anything. I think I would have been embarrassed if he did. Instead, he clutched his pillow and pushed his rump so hard back against me that I almost fell off the back of his bed. Then, when I pulled out, he screamed. It was mostly muffled by the pillow. I'd never taken a cat, but I've heard that with our little barbs we can be intense. Clearly, Tom agreed with that assessment. I held my hips still, afraid that I'd hurt him, so instead he pushed himself back onto me. That--and that alone--was enough for me. He wanted it. He wanted me. He thought I was sexy. All the insecurity that had built up over the last years with Kiel melted at that one motion. I felt sexy. I was hot. I let out a roar loud enough to drown out his scream and held his hips still as I came.

It was a good orgasm, though the build up had been so quick that it didn't last long. He gave little twitches and jerks every time I throbbed. I was probably hitting something when I spurted that felt good. I knew that feeling all too well. Then he collapsed under me, sliding down off my cock with a little slurp. He breathed heavily into his pillow, and I dribbled the last little bit of my exuberance onto his rump cheeks. He let me recover for a few seconds; allowing me to bask in the afterglow. Then he rolled, giving no thought to the stains he was leaving in the bed sheets. He was still hard, and he his belly fur was sticking out in spiky little clumps where he'd wet it down. He huffed one word: "Shower."

I stalked behind him as he stiff-legged his way to the bathroom. He hit the tap, and when he had the spray hot and steaming, I pushed him up against the wall and took him again against the tiles. He felt subtly different the second time, silky-smooth instead of velvety friction. He gripped at the shower hand rail and locked his ankles around my back, keeping himself aloft as I fucked him. After I'd come again, I lifted him up by his legs, sitting him over my shoulders as I buried my muzzle against his crotch. With the spray of the shower, my mouth kept filling with water as I slurped down around his cock. He grabbed my ears and held on for dear life as I gave him sloppy head. He tasted weird, bitter but slightly sweet as he came.

It took me a long time to dry. I was tired and spent, and the early morning after a long night was starting to catch up with me. He helped, drying my legs and under my tail. Then we both retired back to his bed, and he spooned behind me for one more lazy fuck before we slept. I wasn't ready to go again, but he felt so warm and loving. It wasn't a bother. He was smaller than Kiel anyway. I just purred and crooned into the pillows as he humped against my rump. I was so tired that I think I passed into and out of consciousness a few times, but I remember him finishing. I remember how he clutched himself to my back and breathed hard against my spine while he twitched. That was the last thing I remembered.

---

When I woke, I felt awkward. He was still spooned against my back, and I felt his morning wood digging between my rump cheeks. I felt an urge to let him fuck me again, but I also felt a little bit of my pathos telling me I should probably think about what I'd done before I do more. So I stood and left. He made a little complaint, but didn't rise when I went back to the lounge to retrieve my clothes.

I didn't know what to think. Some part of me felt guilty for leaving Kiel, but I quickly squashed that thought. We had an agreement, and he'd been using it just like this for months.

I was about to let myself out, but Tom called from the bedroom. He was standing naked in the doorway, still groggy and ears at odd angles. Seeing him gloriously naked in the morning sun, I resolved to myself that this wasn't wrong. Not in the least. He was beautiful.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. Going back to your boyfriend?"

I nodded. I expected him to say not to. I was ready for him to say I should stay. I wanted him to say that he was better, then immediately felt the shame returning. That was wrong. That was what so wrong about this. It wasn't that I'd cheated on Kiel. There was no cheating when we had an arrangement. It was that I'd had sex with someone else, and they'd been so much better.

"I figured. But you know what? Hold on a second." He turned back into his room, and when he returned he was carrying a torn slip of paper. "Here's my number. Please call. I could use a friend, and I think maybe you could use one too. And..." He bit his lip again, and I recognized a little evil glint in his eye. "If your boyfriend is an asshole again, just come on over. You can crash here again if you want." He gave a little shiver of his hips. "Please."

The shame and guilt melted under a wave of self-confidence. Tom was right--or at least what he'd been implying. Kiel had been doing exactly this so often and for so long, if he couldn't learn to get better, than it wasn't my fault if I left him. It'd be his. I pocketed Tom's number and gave him a hug. Then I left and took a taxi back to the dorms.

Back up in our room, Kiel was awake. He looked like hell. His fur hung in little bags under his eyes, and his pelt was uncombed and a little matted. He looked like he'd stayed up all night.

"Holy shit! Eli! Are you okay? Where-"

"Kiel." He seemed to notice something was different, so for the first time in a very long time he shut up. I closed the door behind me and sat down. "Kiel, we need to talk."