FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A small, decorative china plate, balanced perfectly on the tips of equally elegant claws, bore two perfectly elegant pastries to their destination. Outside the guest room door, Benedict knocked gently. "Zachary? I come bearing the very last two of the pumpkin tarts in hope that you might wish to have something sweet to end the day on. May I share them with you?"

"I'm really not hungry, thank you."

"I know that, Zachary," the dragon said quietly. "But I need to see you, and I thought this might be a better way of telling you that. Please, open the door."

A pause. "I really don't want to."

"I know that, too. But I need you to. Will you let me talk with you for a few minutes? I think it's important."

Another pause, lengthy. Benedict's acute hearing managed to detect the slightest sounds of shuffling behind the door, something like clothing being donned, then the unmistakable sounds of the locks being thrown. After another short pause, Zachary appeared in the open doorway, athletic pants and shirt bearing the university's colors without any conscious irony. The young Akita's ears were splayed, his tail as drooped as much a great curling tail could be, and his eyes couldn't quite look up into the dragon's. "Jerry," he said simply.

"Yes. Jerry. Why don't you come join me in the living room? Eoin has gone off to bed; we won't be disturbed." Sensing the pup's hesitation, Benedict offered, "It might help you to sleep."

The great crimson dragon recognized the signs that tell him his client was hearing the truth of the statements, and after a moment, the athletic Akita nodded and stepped out of his room. Just to prove he wasn't fibbing, Benedict presented the dish with a flourish, and Zachary smiled self-consciously and took one of the tart-shaped miniature pies for himself.

In short order, they had settled themselves in the living room. The caterers had done well; the place was restored to its original configuration, or as close as made no odds. The fire was banked and smoldering safely, but the room was not yet chilly, even with the winds trying to whistle mournfully down the flue. Zachary nibbled at his pumpkin tart, and Benedict noticed happily that the pup wasn't able to resist it after all.

"Let's not take long tonight; it's been a lovely day, and it's time for sleep. I just want to know what happened this afternoon. No judgments, Zachary. Just tell me what happened."

"Nothing happened." The young athlete paused, looked ashamed. "Nothing happened today. I didn't think I'd see him here."

"I wasn't sure he'd come. He's a good student in the department, and I've had him in a few of my classes." The dragon took an easy breath through his nostrils. "I think he's been trying to contact you."

"Yes."

"He's been wanting to talk to me too."

"Yes."

"About how you met."

"Yes."

Being silent is both a blessing and a curse, in therapeutic use. It helps to give the client space, but it also puts pressure on the client to do something, anything, to break the impasse. Some clients learn how to outwait the therapist, in which case nothing is accomplished but making a note in the folder and billing the insurance company. Zachary wasn't that experienced, and he seemed to know, deep down, that Benedict was trying to help. After not quite a minute of silence, he spoke up.

"Has he talked to you?"

"Briefly, yes." The professor leaned forward a little. "But I need you to tell me anyway."

"Why?"

"So you can hear yourself say it. Tell me what happened when you met."

After another pause, this one perhaps only half a minute in length, the Akita leaned forward, his ears splayed. "He sucked me off."

"Is that all?"

"No. He rimmed me, too."

"Why?"

"To make my knot go down. I was... I got stuck..."

Benedict did not laugh, despite the temptation. It helped that he'd already heard about this part of things, from Jerry. "Is that the first time you've had someone suck you or lick you?"

Turning his head away, the Akita shifted in his chair, almost getting up, not quite daring to or maybe not quite wanting to. "Not like I'm a virgin or something."

"The first time from a male, perhaps. And I'd wager the first time in that venue."

"You know about the--"

"Glory hole." Benedict couldn't help but smile at the pup's surprise. "Worst kept secret in the college. I've availed myself of it a few times, over the years."

"Because you're gay?"

"Because I was lonely, bored, horny, or just looking for something different and anonymous. Sometimes, that can be fun. Being gay has nothing to do with it."

Zachary's ear flicked as his entire muzzle collaborated to express his confusion. "That's what Jerry said. But I don't--"

"I'm going to be a terrible therapist here, Zachary. You've been able to say aloud, now, what Jerry did... what you did as well, since I have to imagine that it was consensual." Benedict raised a claw in forbearance. "Don't dwell on that right now; it's not the point. We're talking about Jerry, and what he did after the sexual encounter. He spoke to you, said that what happened had nothing to do with being gay. Is that right?"

"Yes." After seeming to consider for a moment, the athlete pressed on with his story. "He tried to explain to me, about sensation and sex, about how it didn't mean that I was gay, but that didn't make any sense. Of course it's gay. A guy sucks another guy, that's gay."

"Why did you take his card?" The great crimson dragon smiled softly at the pup's surprise. "No great feat of deduction, Zachary. Jerry told me he gave you a card with his phone number on it, and you had the card in your locker, the night of the game. Why did you take his card?"

"He told me to call him if I wanted to talk. Said maybe I should talk to..."

Benedict paused. This was something he hadn't heard yet. "Someone other than Jerry?"

"Yeah." The young canine waved a paw. "It's not important. You asked about Jerry."

"Yes." Let it go for now. "You did call him, didn't you?"

"Tried to. Wanted to see him after the game, maybe talk. Said he couldn't do that. Had someone else over."

"I know this is a therapist question... how did you feel about that?"

The Akita held his breath for a moment, perhaps a flash of anger, then nodded. "Yeah, I know. Standard question." He thought a moment longer. "I was pissed."

"Did you know why?"

"I had a fight with Pris."

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"Was."

"What was the fight about?"

"Sex." The moment stretched, and Zachary eventually filled it. "We weren't having any."

Benedict nodded slowly. "You expected to?"

"We'd been together for four months. I wanted to show her it wasn't just hormones and stuff, I really loved her."

"Do you know why she declined?"

The young athlete shook his head. "She kept trying to talk about it not being important, that I was making a big deal out of everything. I thought she was seeing someone else."

"Was she?"

"She said no. Then she said she thought maybe I was seeing someone else."

"Were you?"

"Hell no!" Zachary spun in his chair to confront the dragon, as if daring him to contradict his emphatic denial.

"I gather from this that monogamy is important to you."

"It's what a relationship is all about."

Benedict nodded sagely. "Certainly can be, yes."

The Akita narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, can be? That's what a relationship is all about. If not, you're just fucking around."

"Then your invitation to Pris was due to your wanting to commit to the relationship?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then I'll repeat her question: Why was important that it happen that night?"

Silence for a full minute, and then two. Benedict thought it time to change tactics slightly.

"Zachary, you called Jerry after your fight with your girlfriend, is that right?"

Reluctantly. "Yes."

"What did you want from him?"

"I don't know."

"You wanted to talk to him?"

"Yes."

"What about?"

"It doesn't matter; he wasn't there to talk to."

"And because he wasn't there, it exacerbated your mood. You were already worked up before you even got onto the field." The dragon lowered his chin several centimeters. "You remember my telling you that the walls of your mental prison would break slowly at first? I think we've discovered where those first few cracks came from."

The Akita's brows crossed, looking almost painful. "Because I couldn't talk to Jerry?"

"No. Because you couldn't talk to the person Jerry and Pris couldn't be for you." The dragon leaned forward, elbows on knees, foreclaws clasped before him. "You wanted to talk to the person you loved."

* * * * * * * * * *

Jerry entered the small bar not long after he had left Benedict's house. He had cried for nearly a quarter of an hour against the young saluki's chest, and the great crimson dragon had offered to drive him home, but it wasn't a long walk, and Jerry had a lot on his mind - Zachary Parker not the least of it.

That had been several hours ago. Jerry had told himself that he had come into this bar for a beer, a rarely-had luxury of a decent on-tap brew, to help him calm down and forget about his breakdown that evening. After the first, the lean golden-furred otter decided that it hadn't worked. After the second, he was certain that he wouldn't have to worry about after-effects. After the third (or was it the fourth?), he was only really aware of his bladder, and he moved as carefully as he could toward the males' room. Unlike some guys, he knew he was a lightweight when it came to alcohol; right now, he just couldn't be bothered to give a shit.

He was alone at first, muted sounds of music (if you could call that crap music) and loud conversations from the half-full bar filtering in through the swinging door just around the corner. Part of his mind registered that the piss wall was set up well for providing quick service to some stud, as long as the door didn't open too frequently. Naturally, this was a straight bar, a sports bar, so clearly no one had designed the room with that in mind, nudge nudge wink wink. Only an actual glory hole would be more obvious, but there didn't appear to be one, despite a few tiny peep-holes in the wall between the last two of the three stalls. Old school - peek, verify, tap hindpaw, wave, kneel.

He was only minimally aware of his thick tail tapping the floor behind him as he stood before the sacred font and flowed. He's seen this style of piss wall in pubs in the U.K. - a water pipe above and flat against the wall provided a constant dribble of water down the porcelain wall. No specific pot or target requiring aim or stability of attack; you could let fly with abandon, and since there were no divided spaces, you could stand as near or as far from your neighbor as the space and circumstances allowed. He wondered how many conversations, hurried or otherwise, started in this convenient space.

The door banged open, and young, tall, solidly-built black bear made his way around the corner to the piss wall. He was already unzipping his fly as he approached, noticing Jerry at the last moment and doing a brief double-take. He stopped in his tracks, put himself at the far end of the piss wall, as far away as he could get. Standing turned slightly, as if to hide his equipment, the bear did his best to ignore Jerry, which amused the otter to no end. As he finished his flow, he chuckled loudly enough for the bear to turn an annoyed look toward him.

"Can't hide anything that big," the otter said through a slight slurring of his words.

"What?" the bear retorted cleverly.

"Besides," Jerry performed an admirably dramatic shaking off of his own member, "not like I haven't seen it before."

The bear nearly pissed on his own hindpaws as his body jerked with slowly registering comprehension.

The otter zipped himself up and turned to face his captive audience. "Library basement. Couple of times. That's an impressive schwanzstucker you've got there. Need another round?"

By this time, the bear's flow had stopped entirely; he stood like a dick with his dork in his hand, or maybe the other way round, Jerry didn't really care, it was funny to him. The idea made his head swim a little, and being an otter, he did so love to swim...

"Hey, no need to be nervous. I know nearly all the football payers ... erp, players by this time, some of them on a first ball basis." He waved toward himself with one forepaw, indicated the stalls with the other. "C'mon, a quickie, your friends woan ev'n notice yer gone. Or they can join in if they want."

The bear zipped up quickly and tried to leave, muttering something incomprehensible.

"Sullivan!"

Frozen in his tracks, the young athlete turned slowly. "The fuck...?"

"That's right, I knew I knew your name. Sullivan. Defensive tackle or something, right? Hey, Sully, we oughta get busy before someone else walks in and wants some; you don't wanna lose your place in line do ya?"

Jerry was only vaguely aware of the bear's forepaws bunching together. He was in just the right mood, just the right place, just the right time for some big heavy bear dick, and he had no desire to lose the chance of getting a guy to touch him for a while, to give him what he wanted, it had been such a long time now, not since Harris, not since that weekend... fucking Parker, didn't he fucking get it? And Jerry hadn't gotten it either, and he wanted some badly, he really wanted to get it, and if that damned stupid Akita couldn't figure it out, he wasn't about to tell the little fucker, it was his fault, all his doing, all entirely his fault...

"C'mon, Sully." Jerry stepped up closer. "C'mon back to my place; I'll show you something even hotter than my muzzle on that big bear cock... you know you want it... and it's okay, cuz we all know you're really straight, right? Just let yourself say it..." The otter was close enough now that he only had to reach down, to make sure he'd gotten his fly zipped up right, can't let a brutha have his meat swingin' for everyone to see, gotta check that it's okay and tucked up tight. "It's okay to fuck me if you're really straight, deep down inside... deep inside... where you want it, right..."

The otter spun sideways with the first blow, not quite off his hindpaws; the second caught him in his gut, and he doubled over, his tail flailing as if trying to help him keep his balance, and then another to his chin, and a fourth to the side of his head. He fell down as if realizing that it was his part of the dance to do just that, to fall down, to make it easier for the bear's hindpaws to get in on the dance, to feel each powerful blow, to feel each statement of contempt, to feel each redeeming sensation as he sank into unconsciousness, releasing himself to the feeling of being really touched by a real, strong male, just as he wanted, as he really, really wanted...