FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

They were all sitting around Kitteridge's, the sophomores and juniors and the new freshmen, and the air reeked of coffee and activism. Lee and Brian had done this ritual the year before when they'd joined FLAG and now sat a little closer to the head of the table. They still hadn't given any official speeches about how much FLAG hoped to make a difference, but they'd at least researched recent headlines to find examples of the sort of discrimination they were fighting against, and Misha, the senior arctic fox who was currently secretary of FLAG, had read out the list with grave meaning as well as he could with his light voice and frequent misreading of words.

That had been a couple hours ago, and the group was now well into the "getting to know you" portion of the evening. It would've been easier with alcohol, but Kitteridge's had a strict policy about that and besides, all the frosh were underage, and technically the sophomores and most of the juniors were too, for all that counted at Forester.

But in Kitteridge's, it counted, and so the ten of them sat around a table in the back, claws tapping along the worn wood or scraping already-etched letters deeper, tails flicking about as uneven chair legs clunked back and forth.

The frosh were a good group this year. Last year there had been twelve newbies, eight of whom had joined; of those, only Lee, Brian, and Liz the badger still sat around the table. The president of FLAG, an otter named Ryan, had just finished a story about a publicly straight fox on his high school's baseball team who'd let Ryan fuck him more than once, and the vice president, a large stallion named Kosh, had said, "Well, sure, that makes sense. All foxes just want to be fucked anyway."

All heads turned toward Lee and Misha, the two foxes at the table, who happened to be sitting side by side. "Hey," Misha said mildly. "That's a stereotype."

"Yeah," Lee said. "Lots of foxes are tops."

"Just not either of you," Ryan said, grinning.

Misha looked down, and the whole atmosphere was a little uneasy. Ryan and Kosh had crossed a line in talking about personal habits, which happened a lot, actually. Keith, a polar bear who was one of the new recruits, said, "I thought we were fighting stereotypes."

"That's different," Kosh said. "Anyway, the foxes know I'm just kiddin' around. It's just cause Misha's famous for it, and Lee's following right in his, uh, footsteps."

"Hey," Ryan said, "someone's got to bottom if someone's gonna top."

All the frosh were looking at them, and so Lee said, "I've topped. When motivated properly."

The attention shifted from Misha to focus totally on him. "I smell a story," said Liz. "Oh, wait, that's just fox musk." She waved a paw in front of her nose.

"Surprised you can smell it through the thick badger smell on your overalls," Lee said sweetly. "But yes, if you are all interested in hearing a story, I'll be delighted to regale you."

"A story of a top fox." Kosh leaned forward, and the faint whiff of alcohol, which perhaps only a fox or wolf would have been able to smell, hinted that he might have been enhancing his coffee under the table.

"A story of a top fox," Lee agreed, and spread his paws.

*

This was late last summer when I was down in Aventira with my father. The Dragons were playing a preseason game and he'd gotten tickets, so we went down to make a day of it.

He went to sleep early, but I was still wide awake, so I went out to walk around. I'd brought my pride jacket and had looked up a couple gay bars, and since I was eighteen and legal, I thought I'd see if I could meet a cute guy to make the night more interesting. It was warm enough for me to leave my t-shirt in the room and just wear the jacket over my fur, hanging open.

The nearest bar was still a bus ride away, so I hopped on. Don't know if you've ever been on an Aventira bus in summer at eleven at night, but if you've got a working nose, I don't recommend it. I'm pretty sure the raccoon next to me was pissing his pants during the ride.

(A general chorus of "Ew" and "Not hot!" greeted this part of the story.)

All right, so I got to where the bar was, and dismounted the bus much like a longtime resident of Aventira, with all the swagger of an eighteen-year-old who thinks everyone wants him.

("You're still exactly that," Brian pointed out.)

("Do you want me to get to the end of the story or not?" Lee asked.)

Anyway, the bus had dropped me off a block away from the neon glow of The Jack of Diamonds, so I walked out into the street, again like a longtime resident. And when I got to the other side, this otter accosted me. "Where do you think you're going, there?" he asked.

I hadn't noticed his dark blue uniform until he stepped up close to me, and that made me reconsider my first remark. As if it weren't obvious where the kid with the pink triangles all over his jacket was headed, twenty feet from a bar with rainbow flags and the same triangles hanging out front. Still, he was a cop, and so I pointed to the bar. "There."

"And what's wrong with our crosswalks, I must know? Have a phobia of them, do we?"

I didn't quite know what to say to that. "I was in a hurry, sorry," I said.

"Jaywalking's a crime, you know."

Now I was starting to see what was going on. The "cop" was staking out the gay club, using jaywalking as a pretext to proposition people. So I gave him a good long look over. I like otters, you know..."

("We do?")

("You do now.")

"...and he was just a little shorter than me, with a nice physique. He pulled off the cop costume pretty well. Broader shoulders than I usually see on otters, thick tail, and a handsome enough face. I did want to see the inside of the club, but I also know enough not to let an opportunity slide by.

"Well, I'm sorry, officer," I said, and gave him a good coy look. "Do you need to punish me in that club there?"

"No," he said, "I need to write you a ticket."

"Ah-ha." I looked around. "In your car? Or in a private room somewhere?"

"Well, not necessarily, but..." He looked at me directly then, and his eyes were very dark. "Do you want to go somewhere private? Sure, I think I know a place."

It was my first completely anonymous hookup, and my heart was pounding. But I thought about how completely lovely it would be and what a wonderful story it would make--don't roll your eyes--and so I flicked my ears and said, "I think we should go somewhere private. I've been very bad, jaywalking like that."

"Yes, well." He seemed unprepared for someone to play along quite so thoroughly and willingly. I worried for a bit that I was doing it wrong, but he was leading me around the corner, so I couldn't have been that far off.

The street we turned onto had a little more life to it than the one sustained only by the poor gay bar: a pool hall, an all-night diner, and two small hotels. But to my surprise, he led me to a pizza place where a plump red fox read a newspaper behind the counter and a short weasel scampered around behind it with trays of pizza dough. The whole place smelled of cooking dough and tomato sauce: heavenly, in other words.

I wondered if this was some kind of Aventira ritual: pizza before sex. But the cop just waved to the fox and said, "Hi, Dolan. Two slices in about twenty minutes, can you?"

"Sure," the fox said, and looked at me. "What you want on yours?"

I turned to the otter and said, "Why don't you pick the topping?"

("You did not say that," Ryan interjected, but was shushed by the rest of the listeners.)

"Two pepperoni, then." And he led me past the kitchen, reluctantly, because I was getting a little hungry, and into a narrow back hallway.

"The restroom?" I said as he held the door open. It smelled okay, though, clean enough. Better than the bus, at any rate.

"It's quite private, and Dolan's not busy this time of night. Besides, they've got supplies."

I didn't quite understand what he meant until he locked the door and reached up to a little dispenser next to it. Three thunks of quarters hit my ears and then a little packet dropped down out of the machine.

The otter tore the plastic open and tossed me the condom. "There you are, lad," he said, and started to undo his pants.

Well. I just held the thing and said, "You want me to put this on you?"

He looked up from his belt and tilted his head. "That wouldn't do me much good when you're inside me, would it now?"

"Whoa," I said.

His eyebrows rose. "Did you or did you not say that I could pick the topping?"

"Well, yes, but..." My ears were going every which way. "I'm not--I mean, I don't really--I haven't--"

"Now, don't tell me that pretty little equipment of yours isn't working," the guy said, "because those pants you're wearing don't do much to hide your state of mind, you know."

"No, but--"

He reached behind him and pulled a pair of wristcuffs from his pocket. "I can remove the choice if that makes it easier for you."

The guy really got into his roleplay--or else it wasn't roleplay. I wasn't sure what to think, then; I just held the condom and stared. "Right," he said, and snap! He had a cuff around one of my wrists. Quick and easy, like he'd done it many times before. "Over here," he said, and pulled me down to the floor, lifting my arm above my head. He threaded the other cuff behind a pipe that ran down the wall and said, "Now give me your other arm."

I raised it and he snapped the cuff around it. So there I was, sitting on the floor, and when he started unsnapping my pants, for the first time it occurred to me that he might just take my clothes and leave me cuffed to the bathroom. The fox had seen me come in with him, sure, but also they knew each other and maybe he took a cut of whatever this guy could steal. Of course, he couldn't get my jacket off now that he'd bound me, but who would want a ratty denim jacket anyway?

Not that I had much; probably had a twenty in my pocket and my credit card with a two thousand dollar limit on it, so...anyway, this wouldn't be a very good story if it ended with me broke, half-naked, and unfulfilled on the floor of an Aventira bathroom...

("I disagree," Liz said.)

...so I will skip ahead to where the otter was neatly folding my pants and putting them on top of the back of the toilet, and then looking down at me. The tile floor was cold through my summer coat and probably not very hygienic, but I was mostly sitting on my tail and the cold was not foremost on my mind.

"I see you're ready for action despite your words," he said, and took the condom from my fingers that were still holding it. That brought his groin level with my nose, and I could smell that he was just as ready as I was, if not more.

He looked down and grinned. With one paw, he ruffled my ears, and with the other, he dropped his pants so my eyes could confirm what my nose had told me, and when I turned my muzzle toward his groin, he said, "Oh, aye, you can have a taste if you like."

It was right there, and so of course I stuck my tongue out to give it a taste, and then I tasted it a little more, as you do, and then he pushed his hips forward and I got a much better taste.

You know, I would've been happy just sucking on that for a while and then maybe getting a reciprocal or even just a paw, but the otter--the cop--didn't let it get that far. He pulled back, panting, so I knew I'd been doing something right, and then he let his eyes drift down my slender white-furred chest, down my stomach, to where I was all ready except for the condom.

"I suppose I'll have to help you with this," he said, and I rattled the cuffs to let him know that yes, I could not put a condom on myself with my feet. So he knelt down, and his paws were soft and smooth, and I watched them work up and down, getting to know me. They explored lower, too, nudging my legs apart, and I thought he might be reconsidering who was going to be on top, but then he just cupped my balls and said, "Lovely," and ripped open the condom package.

The way he held me and rolled the condom down, I knew he'd done this before, many times. He even made sure to get the ring over the knot, which wasn't very big yet, but was certainly getting there. It's important to do that with canids, or else the condom can come off really easily. Not everyone knows that.

Then he squirted out some of the lube from the tiny tube the vending machine had spit out next to the condom, and smeared it over me, and rubbed what was left back up under that thick tail of his. Then he lifted one knee over my midsection and dropped his weight on top of me, and I got another good view of what I'd just had in my muzzle.

But of course, he had other things on his mind, keeping hold of me as he positioned himself and then lowered himself down, and, well, then I was topping from the bottom. I brought my knees up to support him and he settled his tail between them, and then he pushed his hips down and gasped, and he was--

("One of the mounted police?" Brian asked with a smirk.)

Bad puns aside, he was certainly having a good ride and enjoying himself. I pulled the cuffs against the pipe, but all that did was make a nice banging sound to go along with the actual banging on the floor. The otter was heavier than he looked, all muscle and a bit of a gut that his uniform did a good job hiding, but he kept his weight back and I didn't have any trouble pushing my hips up to meet his. I mean, I felt like I should do at least a little of the work, since he'd gone to all the trouble of the cuffs and the condom and all.

He didn't seem to mind much what I did. Those big thighs pushed him up and down, and sometimes he landed a bit heavy, but if I didn't think about it then all I felt was the pressure sliding up and down and my knot getting bigger. He took care of himself with a paw, both of mine being still well restrained, but he took his time.

I admit, I enjoyed it. I hadn't had much practice, but straining against the cuffs gave everything a more urgent sense, and being buried deep inside the guy like that was getting me excited quickly. My knot had gotten big enough that it didn't go in easily, so he was pressing back against it, and the more he pressed, the more I squirmed and pushed, and we got it in. Then he pulled off it again, and I almost just finished right there...

("You don't need to go into detail," one of the frosh said, and was quickly shushed.)

...but a moment later we were pressing again, and this time I knew it was going in to stay. You know how--well, you non-canids don't, of course, but it becomes this focal point of pressure, like it wants to expand even more but your skin is restraining it, and when he worked himself back and I pushed up and I finally got locked inside him, well, all that pressure released. I'm sure you all know how that goes.

And then he wasn't shy about releasing his own pressure, and he did it all over my soft white fur, too. I didn't much care, though it smelled, because I was sagged back against the wall panting.

We stayed like that for a minute or so, and he put a big paw on my chest like he needed to brace himself to hold me down. "I don't think you can get up," I said, but he just laughed and worked his hips, and with a slick tugging he actually did come free.

While I watched, he pulled the condom off me, cleaned himself up, and pulled his pants up. My post-coital bliss was fading into worry again that this guy was going to rob me and leave me cuffed in the bathroom, especially because whenever I said, "You are going to let me go, right?" he just laughed and said I should be patient.

But when he was all ready, he reached around behind me with a key and unlocked the cuffs. "Can't leave these behind," he said, and winked. "They come out of my pay."

I rubbed my wrists as he slipped the cuffs back into his pocket. "Thanks," I said.

"Have a slice when you get out," he said. "It's on me. And one tip for you." He looked quite serious. "Don't follow strange fellows into bathrooms."

"I followed you in," I said.

"That's why I waited 'til after to warn you." He winked again, opened the door, and left.

I hurried to re-lock it, very conscious of my lower half's nakedness, and got cleaned up myself, which took a little longer because fox fur isn't as stain-guarded as otter fur.

(Ryan just glowered, but Kosh snickered.)

And when I walked out finally, there was a slice of delicious deep dish pizza with pepperoni waiting on the counter. The fox there grinned at me and I bought a soda so I could leave him a tip, and that is how this fox was taught to top.

*

The gathering had broken up, leaving empty coffee cups, crumbs on small plates, and Lee, Brian, Liz, and Misha. Liz and Brian took the opportunity to grill Lee about the story.

"You never told me about that trip to Aventira," Brian said. "I would've gone with you."

"Yes, and met my father. There's a reason I hid my pride jacket in my luggage, you know."

"Cops can't just leave their beat like that." Liz's eyes were narrowed. "And they can't cuff people just for no reason."

"It wasn't for no reason, Liz," Lee said, "or weren't you listening to that part?"

"And he didn't seem very eager at first, but then he had a whole routine worked out with the bathroom?"

The fox gave an exaggerated shrug. "I just lived it. I can't explain it."

"You tell a good story," she admitted, "but what if some of those newbies believed it?"

"What if it was true?" Lee perked his ears.

Brian looked past Lee to Misha. "What do you think?" he asked the arctic fox.

"I think it was a pretty hot story." Misha swished his long tail. "But you left out a lot of details."

"Boys." Liz shook her head. "If you're going to ask him to tell it again, I'm going home. It's past midnight."

"I'm not that tired," Misha said.

Lee gave the other fox a smile. "Want to go over to the diner and get some pie?"

"Oh ho," Brian said. "Now I get it. That's why you told that story."

Lee circled his coffee cup on the wood table, brown fingers holding the white ceramic cup. "I've no idea what you mean."

Misha reached down to pat Lee's thigh. "Pie sounds great."

Brian rolled his eyes and stood up. "I'll walk you home, Liz. Let's let these two have their 'pie'."

Liz got up, and so did Lee and Misha. The ferret at the counter gave them a weary look as they passed her on the way out the door, and followed them with the key in her paw.

"Closed the place down again," Brian said, his breath appearing lightly white in the air as he spoke. Autumn had brought a chill to Forester and the trees were just turning colors, but everything looked pale yellow and blue in the light of the moon and sodium lamps. Even Lee's red fur looked an unnatural orange, while everyone else's stark black and white remained more or less the same.

"Worth it." Misha flicked his tail against Lee's, and everyone saw it.

"All right." Brian put a paw on Liz's shoulder. "See you two later."

Misha smiled at Lee as they headed off in the opposite direction. "It really was a pretty hot story," he said. "Do you like wristcuffs?"

Lee's ears stayed up. He breathed on his paws and rubbed them together. "Maybe as a sometimes treat."

"And topping?" Misha reached over and took one of Lee's paws in his own.

"Mmm. I could get used to it."

The arctic fox grinned, and kept hold of the chocolate-brown paw, swinging it between them as they walked on down the street. "Did you tell that story just for me?"

Lee flicked his tail over Misha's as they rounded the corner and the diner came into view, three blocks down. "If we're going to be spending more time together," he said, "you'll have to learn not to ask me why I do things if you're happy with how they came out."

Misha didn't say anything, and Lee looked sideways at the arctic fox as they walked under a yellow street light. Misha's eyes were golden bright and then faded to shadow as they walked out of the light. "Are we going to spend more time together?" Lee asked.

"Well," Misha said slowly, "let's see how the pie goes."

They crossed the street in silence, and then Lee said, "You know, you can get pie with whipped cream or ice cream, or even cheese."

Misha's small ears flicked over. "Is that so?"

"Uh-huh." Lee squeezed Misha's paw. "But I'll let you choose the topping."

"Oh God." Misha pulled his paw away. "If we're going to spend more time together, you'll have to stop the bad puns." But his tail was wagging, and he couldn't keep the grin off his muzzle.

The diner glowed brightly before them, the smells of greasy burgers and fruit pies joining the low murmur of all the conversation inside. "I guess we'll both have a lot to work on," Lee said with a smile, and held the door as Misha walked inside.