FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

No More Lies No Regrets

(November 16th)

Elliot could have sworn the sound echoed through the apartment:

...the deadbolt locking in place.

The door was closed...the happy voices of the departing couple muffled by the metal and wood. They were gone. And Elliot was finally alone...with him.

This was it. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. The apartment was theirs. The day was theirs. From now 'til hours past dusk, they would be alone. No interruptions. No prying eyes. No expectations but their own.

It was time.

This was the day he would make his move. A bold paw? A bolder kiss? And he would bathe in that beautiful scent he'd only caught the most errant, passing whiffs of before. He would feel the flesh pulsing against his own. Pulsing in his paw. On his tongue. Beneath his tail. He would make dreams become reality, here and now. This day.

Or so he hoped.

Because, for all his bravado, for all his promises to Hunter and Jeff, for all his need and desire...and even for the painful tent growing, right now, in his pants, from nothing more than the echoing click of a deadbolt...could he really do it?

Could he really make a move on his own father?

And could he really hope the elder husky would allow it?

But Aaron and Will were gone -- gone for the day -- and he was alone, this quiet little Saturday, with the most powerful and inescapable object of his affections. With the one he dreamed of. The one whose mere scent set him to drool. The one his every logical thought told him he would never have. And the one who, this very instant, was stepping into view, from the entry way.

His father.

His father stood -- proud and powerful as ever -- black and white fur shamelessly bare on his uncovered chest and stomach...his legs, and the treasure between them, covered only by the thinnest layer of plaid cotton: by his pajamas. But Elliot caught this majestic sight for only the shortest of moments, before he looked away.

He couldn't. He hadn't been able to since that Saturday night one full week ago, now, when his darkest secrets had been laid bare. How could he look his father in the eye, now, knowing what he knew? And so he looked away. He cast his eyes on the living room floor.

But that tent? The painful reminder of his every fantasy and desire? It throbbed and it stung. It would not be dissuaded so easily as his eyes. And in the boldest display the little husky could muster, he did nothing to hide it. He knew his father could see him, there. He knew his tent stood on display. And he did nothing to hide it.

He wanted his father to see. He wanted him to know. To know what the elder husky's mere presence could do to him. And he wanted a response. A reaction. Elliot wanted his father to approach him, and to take that painful tent into his strong, experienced paws. But he would take any reaction he could. Questions. Admonishment. Anything.

Just so long as his father saw it. Just so long as he finally knew.

He could hear the elder husky's paws on the carpet. Hear the muffled thumps of his pads. But the boy couldn't look up, couldn't watch the approach. And he just stood and waited. And in a moment, a paw sat heavily upon his shoulder.

He wanted to pull away. He wanted to escape that touch. It sent shivers down his spine, and set his jaw to quiver. And God knows it wouldn't be the first time, this week, he'd jerked away, surrendering to his nerves.

But this time, he didn't. This time, he stayed. He turned his head, first to his father's feet...then up across his pajamas and to the hidden treasures, beneath...farther still, to his stomach, and to his chest at eye level...and then, at last, to the elder husky's smiling face.

That face. That smile. Those eyes.

Elliot closed his own and leaned heavily against his father's bare fur. And the boy throbbed and stung...

...as that heavenly scent engulfed him.

~

(November 13th)

Three days earlier: Wednesday evening.

Three days before Kristoff and his son would have the apartment to themselves. Two days since the detectives had come and gone. And four after a secret exposed, had changed his life forever...

...Kristoff stepped through the door of his still new apartment. Home from work.

The living room was empty. And for a moment, in comparison to the sounds of the world outside, the whole apartment lay eerie, quiet, and still. No voices, no television, no sound to speak of, at all. That is, until his ears adjusted to the silence, and he could hear the faintest shuffling from the bathroom in the hall.

He sat his things aside. He stretched. And he made his way to that bathroom. His knuckles rapt on the door gently, but as it hadn't been completely shut, it took only that small force to push it open. And before he even saw who was inside, he called out a name in hope:

"Billy?"

And there, in the bathroom, as the door swung wide, stood his brother, surrounded in steam and wearing only his boxers, as he dried his damp face. William stopped, his eyes wide and uneasy, and he draped the towel around his neck.

"Yeah?" he replied, a nervous tremor in his voice...one which he'd had near-constantly since Saturday.

"Are we, uhm..." Kristoff asked as he looked around, "...are we home alone?

"Yeah," Billy nodded. "Aaron went to pick up dinner for everybody, but he needed a second pair of paws..."

"So he took Elliot?" the elder husky raised an eyebrow...

...but his brother just nodded...

...and so he clarified the question: "Why not you?"

With a shy smile, William motioned at his damp, half naked form, "Not exactly dressed."

This was good, though. This was what Kris needed. A moment alone with his brother.

"Well..." he began, "I was actually hoping I could get you alone, anyway. Would you mind..." he trailed off as he pointed back toward the living room, silently beckoning Billy to follow him there.

And the younger husky nodded, eagerly. Desperate as of late to keep his older brother happy, he wasn't apt to say no. "Yeah, sure! Just let me-"

"Oh come on, Billy," Kristoff cut him short, before he could suggest getting dressed. "There's not a soul we know that hasn't seen you in less, already."

His brother's ears fell back. His eyes drooped. And Kris knew why. The younger husky couldn't bear it: any reminder that Toffy now knew of what he and Elliot had done. And, of course, Kristoff knew very well how it pained his brother. He could see it in his eyes every time the subject was broached... or even referenced. And now too, at the mere implication that Elliot could be included in that category: with those who had seen Will...'in less'.

And as they walked to the living room together, Kristoff couldn't help but pity his little brother. Because, if such a small reference bothered him so much...the conversation they were about to have would be torture.

"So..." William asked as they took their seats, "what do you need?"

"I wanted to talk, away from prying ears..." Kris answered slowly, "...about you and Elliot."

And, sure enough, the younger canine tensed and shrunk. He wasn't ready for this. But he wouldn't say no. He couldn't. "Oh. Okay. Yeah," he nodded with a gulp...

...but Kristoff offered him a smile. "Relax. It's nothing like that..." he assured his brother. "We're just gonna' talk. I promise."

And Billy took in a deep breath, "Well, what do you wanna' know?"

"Details?" the elder dog shrugged. "I mean...I know it was all paws and muzzles. I know you didn't fuck him. And I know it was...what, three times?"

"Four," William corrected him softly, as he timidly listed off: "on your couch, in my old apartment, in the photo booth..."

"...and in my bed," Kris added...

...and the younger husky confirmed: "And in your bed."

And there it was. That feeling, creeping up again. The one which Kristoff had felt, to some degree, ever since his brother's confession, Saturday night...

The feeling he'd tried, again and again, to convince himself was disgust. Disgust over what they'd done. Incest. Statutory rape. And the whole time lying, and doing it all right under his nose.

He tried to tell himself he was disgusted. That this was the feeling gripping his chest.

But it wasn't.

"So, who initiated it?" Kristoff asked, abruptly...

...causing Billy to jolt and stutter before he could answer. "Th-the first time?" he asked, only continuing after his brother nodded. "Hard to say, really. Me, I guess? But I mean, Elliot was..." Billy stopped and stalled with a whimper, "Are you sure you wanna' hear all of this?"

"I'm sure," the elder canine nodded. "I don't want you to hold anything back. It's...it's important that I know."

"Well, he was hard," William explained with a sigh. "He was turned on...by me, by my scent, by us touching-" and he quickly stammered to amend: "In a completely tame way, at that point. But he was aroused, either way. And he wanted it."

"So he came on to you?" Kris asked.

"No. He just asked to go paw off," the younger dog admitted, in shame. "But I convinced him to stay. I convinced him it would be more fun if we did it together."

Kristoff clarified: "You mean pawjobs?"

"No. I just meant watching one another," Billy contended. But, with a sigh and an averted gaze, he confessed: "Or...no. That's a lie. I wanted to do a lot more than that." And he took a breath as he looked back at his brother, "But it was Elliot who got bold."

"So he touched you first?" the elder husky double checked.

"He did," William nodded. "But of course, I was none too shy to reciprocate."

And again, that same feeling rose up.

The feeling Kristoff had tried to call disappointment. Disappointment in a son who should have known better. A son who he had raised to be decent and sincere. But who willingly went to bed with his own uncle...and could never bring himself to be honest with the father that loved him.

He tried to tell himself that he was simply disappointed. That this was the feeling rising in his throat.

But it wasn't.

"So, whose idea was it to take the risk with the photo booth?" Kris asked, moving along.

But the younger canine simply shrugged, "Does it really matter, Toffy? Even if it was his idea, completely...as an adult, I still should've stopped him."

"It matters," Kristoff assured him. "Please, Billy."

"Well, again...it was mine, I guess." Will leaned forward as he explained: "See? He was in a bad mood. He was disappointed in himself for..." he paused, clearly hesitant to say it, but pressed on, nonetheless, "...for not sucking me off well enough, the day before. And I wanted to cheer him up."

Surprising himself -- nearly so much as he was sure he did his brother -- the elder dog laughed.

"And photo booth sex was the answer?" he asked...

...and William, disarmed by the laughter, flashed a guilty little grin, "What? He said he was turned on by public stuff."

With a short nod and a pause, Kris took advantage of the temporarily lightened mood to ask: "So, how was he?"

But the younger husky reeled.

He choked and coughed, stammering out little more than grunts, "Uhm...uhh..." and failing to offer even the simplest of answers.

"Billy," firmly, Kristoff asked again, "how was he?"

Though shaking and unsure, Will answered: "Inexperienced but enthusiastic?" He spoke slowly, his voice barely above a murmur, as if a gentler tone could dull the blow, "Soft. Small. Eager." And he took a breath and licked his lips, his chest rising and his shoulders rolling as he quietly trailed off: "Light in my arms...quivering...and..."

Kris watched his brother gulp and shiver...and he watched his arms reflexively cover his lap. But it was too late. Before those black and white arms could hide the display, he had already seen it: his little brother's growing bulge...

...swollen by nothing but the memory of his time with Kris's son.

And once more, that damned feeling washed over him.

The feeling Kristoff had desperately hoped was hatred. Hatred for his brother. The brother he had loved and protected. The brother he had been closer to than any friend, and, in ways, even than any woman he'd ever loved.

He tried -- oh how he tried -- to believe that he hated Billy. To believe that this was the feeling clenching his jaw, and setting his heart to race.

But it wasn't. He'd known from the beginning.

It wasn't.

"And," finally, the elder canine asked, "which one of you wanted to do it in my bed?"

"Now THAT would be him," William pointed in emphasis. "That part was one hundred percent Elliot."

And truth be told, Kris wasn't surprised by that at all.

"Do you know why?" he asked.

And his brother's eyes darted away. Suddenly, he was more than simply hesitant to answer. More than unsure. He had answered every question up until now with excruciating honesty. Honesty that Kristoff was certain had tormented and stabbed at the younger dog.

But now? This question? This one stalled him. This one, he couldn't answer.

Luckily, though, Kristoff didn't need him to.

Because the elder dog was quite confident he already knew. That he knew exactly why Elliot had sought out his bed. And THAT was why didn't surprised him, that he had. After all, there were signs. He'd seen them. More and more, since the confession, they'd come to bear...but thinking back, they'd been there all along. He just hadn't known to look.

Of course, there was always the chance he was wrong. He hadn't quite been himself, after all. He was more than a little off balance since he'd learned the truth. Who wouldn't be? And he could easily have been reading everything wrong. Looking for something that wasn't there. Overcompensating for the weeks he'd been so oblivious to other secrets, by now searching for new ones. New ones that might, very well, not exist.

But he had to know. And this was it. This was why he needed to speak with his brother.

Because...

"I think Elliot's attracted to me."

"Uhm..." Billy froze and blinked, "...say that again?"

"I said: I think that Elliot is attracted to me," the elder husky looked his brother dead in the eye. "And I think it's why he chose the bed."

"R-really?" William raised a brow, "Why would you think...?"

"I dunno. The way he's been acting around me, lately?" Kris explained, "He's more nervous than he used to be. Awkward. Stuttery? He avoids eye contact, and I can't even touch him, anymore, without..." He paused for an instant, before leaning in, "I mean, half of the time he tenses up and shies away from even the slightest touch."

"Maybe he's just uncomfortable, now," the younger canine suggested: "you know, because of what you found out?"

"Yeah, I thought that, too," Kristoff conceded. "I tried to put myself into HIS shoes, and to imagine how hard it would've been for me to look either of our parents in the eye, if they had ever found out what me and you did in high school. But, Billy...I only said that he shies away HALF of the time. The other half, though?" He paused and drew in a breath, "He melts! He clings, and nuzzles, and acts like...well like Aaron does with you!"

"So?" Billy just shrugged. "Hasn't he always been like that?"

"Yeah. And that doesn't hurt my case, here, either. See: I didn't say I thought this was a new development. I didn't say that he just STARTED being attracted to me."

"So...you think he has been for a while, then?"

"Well just think back," the elder dog recalled. "The night he walked in on us. On me, you, Stan, and Aaron. You remember that, right?"

"I do," William nodded...

...and Kris went on, "And do you remember the look on his face? Do you remember it being any different than the one on Hunter's?"

But the younger husky just laughed it off, "Well there were three other guys in the room he could have been looking at, Toffy."

"Okay then...so what about a few days later, when he caught me pawing?" Kristoff asked. "There was no one else there, then."

"And he was showing interest?" Billy presumed.

"He almost immediately ran away to paw off, too!" the elder dog exclaimed. "And then he was whimpering like a bitch in heat for the rest of the night. And at one point...the way his nostrils were flaring? Billy, he might as well of shoved his nose up the leg of my boxers, for a better sniff!"

William, now, could only rub his neck in silence...

...but Kris pushed on, "Would you like me to count the number of times he's wandered into the bathroom when I was showering, over the years? Or should I talk about his wandering eyes, when I'm in my underwear?" And he paused to remind his brother: "Or maybe I could just repeat the fact that, not two minutes ago, you said that HE was the one who wanted to fool around in my bed."

"Okay," the younger husky hung his head in defeat. "I see your point."

"Yeah. But, see? I don't think you had to," Kristoff suggested. "I think you already knew."

At that, Will looked back up, "Wh-what?"

"Billy. Just tell me," the elder canine looked him in the eye, once again, to ask: "Has Elliot ever told you that he wanted to have sex with me?"

And with a long pause and a breath, William closed his eyes and nodded. "He has."

He has.

That was it. That was what Kris needed to hear. No; what he wanted to hear. The answer to the question that had brought him here, this very evening, to this couch, and to his brother. It was what he needed to finally make that feeling wash away...

And it did. It rippled across his body -- goose bumps and needles -- as a smile parted his lips. And it was gone. The feeling he'd tried to lie about, again and again. The one he'd told himself was disgust. Hatred. Disappointment. Betrayal.

But it wasn't.

What he'd felt, even at his most violent and angry, was something wholly different. It was a feeling he didn't want to admit. And one that he hadn't felt in years. After all, for all her faults, Robyn was at least faithful. And this? He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had reason to feel...

Jealous.

But he was. He was jealous of what they'd done. He was jealous of this experience they'd had that he hadn't been a part of. Jealous of how close it had made them become, mentally and emotionally. A closeness that HE was supposed to have with his son, not Billy! He was jealous of the act. Jealous of the aftermath. Jealous of their relationship. Jealous...

...because Elliot had chosen Will over him.

But now it was gone. Driven away by two simple words. 'He has.' It was all he needed. All it took. Knowing that Elliot was attracted to him, just as he was to Will. Knowing -- even in such a lewd and carnal way -- that his son still loved him...needed him...wanted him.

And so...perhaps it was time he admitted the truth. Not just to himself, as, on some level, he already had. But aloud, and for someone else's ears. It was time he made it real.

"Billy?" he finally spoke, "What if I told you I wanted it, too?"

~

(November 16th)

Kristoff's head spun.

It spun, inebriated by the cocktail assaulting his senses. Yes. Cocktail; that was the word. An intoxicating mixed elixir...heady and delicious. Of course, this cocktail was no a drink. It was a scent. The rising, warm, mingling scents of both Kris...

...and his son.

It filled not just his nose, but, in time, his every sense. It muted his ears to the television playing before them, clouded his eyes, drove his mouth to water, and set his fur on end. It surrounded him. It cradled him. And it filled his mind with one question, and one alone.

Why?

Why were they still sitting here, on this couch? Why were they watching a movie? Why were they dressed? Why didn't he already have his son in his arms, driving himself deep inside? Gripping. Clawing. Growling. Tongues intertwined, bodies entangled, and flesh aflame. Why?

There was no reason to hold back. No reason to continue this charade. He'd long since shed the comfort of his lies. He'd already admitted to himself exactly what he wanted, and -- a short three days ago -- he'd admitted it to his brother, as well. He'd bared his darkest and most perverse desires, and made them real. So why? Why sit here and keep up the pretense of tame father/son bonding, when he knew he wanted so much more?

It clearly wasn't for Elliot's sake. No. Elliot wanted it just as badly as he did...and he had for far longer. Kris had assumed as much, and Billy had confirmed it. And even now, the boy's scent, mingling with his own, made that clear. The scent...along with the tent his son had so proudly put on display. Elliot wanted this. Elliot wanted HIM.

But his son was no braver than he. The boy certainly knew...knew, just as well as Kristoff did, what was happening here. Because he could smell it, too, couldn't he? And undoubtedly, he had seen his father's even more prominent tent, stretching the plaid cotton of his pajamas. After all, the boy's eyes had never proven shy before...so why should they, today?

So why? Why hadn't Elliot made his move? Only those thin pajamas barred his path. It would be so simple. Perhaps if Kris pulled the boy closer to his side, he would lean down. Perhaps his son's paw would snake in under the elastic waist. Perhaps he would finally feel Elliot's muzzle surrounding his slick, begging flesh.

But no. The little husky was already flush against his side. His head was already in the fur of his father's chest. How much closer could he get? And besides. It wasn't Elliot's job to take that leap, anyway. He was just a boy. He was Kristoff's boy. He was scared, he was uncertain...and he needed his father's guiding paw.

It was time Kris took charge. Time he put an end to this torturous waiting game. He could fish out his own pulsing bone, and show it to the boy. See where it went. He could pull him down and force his son's nose into his balls and retracted sheath. He could bend him over the arm of this couch and-

So why hadn't he? Why couldn't he?

At last, his muzzle lowered. And he used it to gently pry his son's head away from his chest. A simple kiss. He would begin there. Lips to the boy's cheek. Start slow. Break down the barriers. Use it as an excuse to look him in the eye. That should be easy enough, right? A small enough step. And surely, all the prompting they would need.

Gently, he used his nose to pry his son's head from his chest. He leaned in, lips in rout for that white, furry cheek...

But Elliot turned. And in an instant, one pair of shocked, tremoring lips met another. And nearly everything froze. Breaths halted. Bodies tensed. And eyes shot wide and unmoving. But their hearts? A drum roll in their ears, as they stared into one another's eyes. Unblinking. Until both pairs snapped shut...

...and two tongues intertwined.

~

(November 14th)

Two days earlier: Thursday night.

Two days before Elliot and his father would be locked in their first, passionate kiss. Three days since the detectives had come and gone. And five after his darkest secret had been uncovered...

...Elliot lay nude, as his recently spent and still sticky sheath was lightly caressed by an orange furred paw. The paw of his boyfriend: Hunter Thurman.

"Really?" his tiger asked. "That often?"

"More!" Elliot answered. "It's not just every day. It's...it's like every time he looks at me, now, nothing else is on my mind!"

"I had no idea you were into your dad, that much."

"Well, I'm not! Or...or I wasn't." The husky took a breath, and tried to explain: "I mean, sure. I thought about it. I would see him in the shower, or catch a whiff when he walked by in his boxers and..." he shivered and his sheath stirred beneath his lover's paw. "But it was only here and there. He was just one of a million different guys going through my head. But now..."

"So what changed?" Hunter asked, his caressing uninterrupted.

"He did! Or...or I did?" Elliot shook his head. "I dunno...maybe both of us."

"Meaning...?"

"Well, it started when I found out about him and Will, you know? I didn't just find that out my dad was bisexual, but that he was okay with incest, too! And suddenly, it wasn't just a fantasy. He wasn't just eye and nose candy-"

"Nose candy?" the tiger cut him off with a laugh.

"Shut up! You know what I mean," Elliot barked playfully, and moved along. "He wasn't impossible anymore. There was a chance, now, no matter how slim...and it wasn't just something I could brush aside anymore." He took a breath, "And that's how HE changed. But then..."

"Then...you changed?" Hunter repeated.

"In his eyes, yeah," the husky answered. "Because that's when he found out about ME and Will."

Hunter simply tilted his head as he rose up on an elbow, in his bed. Though, still, his other paw never stalled its gentle stroking...

...as Elliot went on: "And now, every time he looks at me, I know he knows! And I wonder if he's picturing it. I mean: he's seen me nude, and he's seen Will nude. And he knows!" The dog barely seemed to breathe, amidst his fevered rant, "So I think: is he imagining it, right now? Am I nude in his mind, sucking his brother's dick? And how does that make him feel? Is he angry, or disappointed, or disgusted, or is he..." he stalled and stuttered. "I mean: he's bisexual, right? And he's done stuff with Will, himself! So, is it really that big of a stretch to think that he might be...enjoying the thought?"

And his tiger finally asked, when given the breadth to speak: "So you think he might want to fool around with you, too?"

"I don't know!" Elliot gripped his face in his paws, in frustration. "But I can't look at him, now...I can't touch him, I can't even be in the same room with him without wondering if...if..." his fingers trailed up, grasping at his headfur, "Without wanting to just...just BURY my head in his crotch and pray that he doesn't push me back!"

But the next words to meet his ears were the last he expected to hear: "You should do it."

And at once, Elliot jolted, "What!?" rising up onto his elbows in his lover's bed, as far as his spent and tired body could manage...especially with the pain his tiger had left under his tail.

"You should do it!" Hunter repeated. "Grab hold when he's not expecting it. Lay your head in his lap like a pup, and nuzzle in under his waistband. Hop into the shower with him. Wake him up with your muzzle! Wait naked in his bed!" he listed off, excitedly. "Anything!"

Beneath the tiger's still stroking paw, Elliot's sheath began to swell. Never satisfied. Never tired. And risen quickly to attention by his lover's suggestions.

But while Elliot's cock swelled, his mind was reeling. He'd only thought he was sharing his feelings...not asking permission for anything. "You...you're advocating this?"

"Why not?" Hunter smiled. "I mean, this is gonna' sound mean, but what's the worst that could happen? He already knows about you and Will, right? And if he has a problem with it, if he already thinks less of you for it...this probably won't make that any worse." And his gentle caressing slowly grew firmer and more deliberate, as he began to coax his husky free of his sheath, "But if you're right? If he WOULD be open to it? You've gotta' find out!"

And, in that instant, the husky didn't care why. He didn't care if it was his mind, logically agreeing with the facts at paw. Didn't care if it was the orange-striped shoulder devil, whispering in his ear. If it was his heart yearning for this to be true. Or just his dick, happy to believe any lie that might support its desires. All he cared was that he did believe. He did agree. And his tiger was right.

But just as quickly, he shook his head to escape those thoughts, at least for now...because...

"That's not what I meant," he argued. "I meant...YOU, of all people, are supporting this? With how you reacted about Will, I thought..."

"That was different," Hunter contended. "That was about you keeping a secret from me, and me having to find out like I did, and..." he shrugged, "...and even if I WAS a little weirded out by him being your uncle, that's in past, now. We talked about that, you shared the details, and I got over it. In fact, it...it's kinda' hot now."

"But-"

"And besides!" the tiger cut him off. "We're in an open relationship, now. It's not like I can say no! Especially since you told me -- the day we started this -- that your dad was like the biggest reason you wanted to."

Elliot, though, remained unsure. "So...you're really okay with it?"

"Do you care?" Hunter smirked. "If you miss this opportunity, Elliot, you will regret it, forever. Would you really let me stand in the way of that?"

And again, the husky didn't care if it was because of his heart, his mind, his lover's silver tongue, or his already rigid bone, twitching in that experienced, feline paw. But, again, he agreed. He wanted it. He would regret not taking it. And, in the end, he didn't even care what Hunter thought. Though it was nice to have the support.

Again, though, he shook his head, and pulled himself back to reality, "Yeah...but it's not like it matters anyway, right?" He sighed, "I mean: it's all just a fantasy."

But as Hunter rose up, and slowly slid his head down his lover's form, he argued: "Nothing's impossible."

And even as that rough tongue tickled his most sensitive flesh, the dog could only ask: "You don't really think it could happen, do you?"

~

(November 16th)

Elliot had done this before.

Other tongues had invaded his muzzle. This was the fifth, in fact. And he knew how they felt. How they tasted. How they slithered in somewhere they didn't belong, but still felt as if they did. How his own wrestled back against them...probing...exploring.

He knew how it felt to lick someone else's teeth. To have someone else's breath fill his cheeks. And it was always the same. No matter the technique or the skill, no matter how rough or slick the tongue...no matter how different...

...it was always the same.

Elliot, too, had felt other fur against his pads. Soft and coarse, short and long. He'd felt other hearts beating against his chest. He'd felt the warmth of another male against him, time and again. He'd been caressed and cradled...held and squeezed...pushed down and lifted up. He'd been at their mercy, and held them at his own.

He'd been touched, and sucked, and fucked. He'd given over every inch of his body to four different lovers, and more times than he'd bothered to count. And this act, no matter the one behind it...was nothing new.

He'd done it all before. And although he'd found that love, in ways, could make all the difference...in other ways, it was always still the same.

Until today.

Here. Now. Elliot's tongue danced across smooth, sharp teeth. Wet flesh slid across wet flesh in the combined space of their mouths. One strong paw held him by his back, and pulled him close. Chest to chest. His own claws dug into fur and flesh. A second paw slipped inside his unzipped pants...

And it touched him for the first time, through the fabric of his underwear. Gently pressing. Exploring. Gripping. And then a button slipped through its cotton eye. Fabric parted. Air rushed around exposed flesh. And the soft, trembling pads of his father's paw grazed his most sensitive skin.

He'd done it all before. This was far from the first paw to delve into the shadows of his pants. And it had always been the same.

But today?

Electricity raced through his body. His toes and tail curled. His every muscle tensed. He drew in a breath and let it out in a whine, as he finally pulled away from that enrapturing kiss. He froze. His hips lurched upward against his father's paw...

...and, at once, the moment fell away. And he melted, held up by nothing but that strong arm. The same arm he'd dreamed for so long of being held within. He was blind. He was numb. And he gave himself over. Every inch, in this moment, belonged to those arms, that paw, and that tongue. He was at the mercy of his father. And he knew, in a way...that his father was at his.

He closed his eyes. He felt his body lowering down, his back upon the couch. He felt the other husky's form looming over him. And he felt the breath on his neck...on his chest...on his stomach...and on his-

And as the warmth surrounded his sensitive, twitching flesh. As that same tongue that had just left his mouth curled around his knot. As his own father sucked him into his muzzle. Elliot howled. He bucked. He arched up into that hungry maw. And his claws pierced his uncle's couch.

He had done this all before. And it had always been the same.

Until today.

~

(November 15th)

Just one day earlier: Friday night.

One day before Elliot would feel himself throbbing inside his father's muzzle. Four days since the detectives had come and gone. And six after the confession that began it all...

...Elliot sat in the still unfinished room of his newest friend. Jeffery Hammond.

"So...what's it like?" the husky asked.

"You know what sex is like," Jeff answered. "You've done it."

"No. I mean with Scott."

"Oh?" The cat smirked and waggled his brows, "Curious about my dad, huh?"

Elliot argued back at first, "No!" only to swiftly avert his eyes, "Or, kind of? But still, no..."

So Jeffery tilted his head, "Curious about...foxes, then?"

And the husky chuckled, "Again, yes! But still, no." And, finally, he leaned in, lowering his voice as if someone might hear, "I meant: what's it like doing something with your own dad?"

But Jeff just blinked, "I, uhm, I'm not sure what you want me to say..."

"You know. Like, in comparison to-"

"Comparison to who?" the cat laughed. "He's almost the only person I've ever been with. There's not much to compare it to. I mean, sure, I can compare it to James, or to-"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Elliot stopped him from listing them off. "But...you could still tell me what it's like, right? You know: knowing that the dick in your muzzle belongs to your dad? Looking up at him, while he's inside of you, and knowing that it's your FATHER doing that?"

"Well...not really," Jeffery rubbed his neck. "I mean: he was my dad second. First he was my master, then he was my boyfriend, and...he was only my dad AFTER all of that." He shrugged, "I...I guess could tell you what it's like looking across the kitchen table at my dad, and knowing he hasn't always BEEN my dad..." he flashed his friend a confused stare, "...if that helps."

"Maybe? Yeah. Yeah, that might help," though unsure at first, the husky nodded, and went on to ask: "I mean, like...is it awkward? When he's just being your dad, does everything feel weird or different because you've also had sex? Like: calling him dad, following his rules, or..." he paused to avoid rambling on. "Just...you know: does the sex mess everything else up for the two of you?"

"No, not really. But, like I said, we were already having sex before we ever-" Jeff, though, stopped mid-sentence to shake head his head and ask: "Wait. Why do you want to know so bad?"

A question Elliot should have known was coming. But one he was completely unprepared for.

"I dunno...I just, uhm..." he stammered as his eyes darted about...

...but the cat jolted, "Oh my god!" sitting up straight before the dog could answer. "Have you and your dad-?"

"No!" Elliot yelped and waved his paws. But, just as quickly, hung his head, "Or...not yet, at least."

"Oh? Oh!" Jeffery clapped. "Then you're gonna'?"

"Honestly?" the husky smiled a guilty, little grin. "I...I think I might make my move the next time we're alone."

"Ah!" Jeff nodded. "And you thought I could tell you what to expect."

"Or tell me anything!" Elliot tossed up his paws in exasperation. "Like...like how I should make my first move, or how to handle it afterwards, or...or..."

And the cat, again, could only laugh, "I really can't help you, Ell. I'm sorry, but like I said: it's completely different with me and Scott. I really have no idea what it's like to...to have your dad become..." and he paused, with a breath, at the thought. "But you gotta' tell me how it goes!"

"If it actually happens," Elliot scoffed.

"I've decided to be optimistic!"

"Well, could you at least tell me one thing, though?" the husky asked. "I mean: I've only ever been topped by a cat, right? So, uhm..." again, he leaned in with a whisper, "...does it hurt to take a knot?"

~

(November 16th)

Trust.

That was the look. The look in his son's eyes, as Kris laid the boy upon his bed. It wasn't alone, of course. It was clouded behind lust and hovering before nervous disbelief, all swirling about in those glazed blue irises. But it was there. Beyond all else. Trust.

Trust, as Elliot, already nude, watched Kristoff discard his pajamas. Trust as his eyes fell upon his father's marble red shaft. Trust, as the older husky climbed in atop him and kissed him on the mouth. Trust, right to the moment those eyes fluttered closed.

Elliot had always trusted him. Kris knew that. He'd trusted that he would protect him. Trusted that he would guide him. That he would advise him. And love him. He'd trusted that he would be a father.

But as he lifted his son's legs, and felt them wrap around his waist, he knew...

...this was different.

This was trust without expectation. Without hope. Without thought. Without fear. Without any explicit desire, at heart. And as Kristoff's tip lit upon the fur behind his son's balls, together, they shivered. He moved his hips -- the delicate twist -- and his tip slid down. Down between his son's cheeks, and to the hot, waiting pucker, between. And Kris knew.

Trust.

Elliot wasn't trusting this husky not to hurt him. He wasn't trusting him to be gentle. Wasn't trusting that their relationship, tomorrow, would be as it was today. Or trusting in the elder husky's protection.

He didn't trust, this day, in a father's love. He simply trusted.

Trusted Kristoff in this most intimate of moments. In this most intimate of acts.

He had surrendered. And Kris knew. He had felt him give in, at the moment their lips touched on the couch. Felt him surrender in his arms. Felt him relinquish his trust, in its simplest and purest form, not to a father, but to these arms and this mouth...and to the husky holding him down, now, on this bed.

Elliot's legs cinched tighter around the elder husky's waist, and his tailhole opened for the tip probing its ring. He'd given his trust. And Kristoff would take it.

And there, on his bed, he bore in. Drove himself on with lustful abandon, and his son howled in his arms. But the boy didn't ask him to stop. His legs squeezed his father's waist tighter still, his paws and claws gripped fast, and his chin and neck wrapped around the elder dog's shoulder.

He held tight. He braced himself for the ride they both knew he'd wanted for so long.

And Kris gave it to him.

He held the boy in his arms and swung his hips, driving himself into that quivering hole, again and again. Every thrust rocked them there, on the bed...and every time he hilted -- knot slamming against that hole -- his son called out. At first he yelped...but yelps turned to whimpers and whines...and, in time, to moans and whispered swears.

And through it all, Kristoff bayed and growled. Not one lover he'd taken had ever felt so tight. So hot. So small in his arms. So completely and utterly under his control.

So right.

And then he felt the grinding. The desperate press of his son's ass to his knot. With every thrust, his son thrust back. Each time, holding him there just a fraction of a second longer before he could withdraw again.

The boy never said a word. He hadn't. Neither of them had -- save for whispered curses -- since before that first kiss. But his nose touched his father's. And they came eye to eye as they rocked there on the bed.

He didn't say a word. But he wanted it. He wanted his father, knot and all. He wanted to be tied and bred. And who was Kris to deny him that?

It was mere moments, now. Moments, and it would be over. Each and every pounding thrust spread that tiny hole wider and wider. Soon, Kristoff would feel the pop. Soon, he would be inside. He would throb, he would twitch, he would unload his seed deep within his own son. And it would be done.

This fantasy.

This sin.

This perfect day.

In an instant, it would be over. It would pass. But they would look back on it with a smile...and no regrets. And as his knot spread that hole, one last time, he knew. Today had been a day worth remembering.

Pop!

The ring gripped his knot. Constricted. Pulled. Milked. He was inside. Twitching, throbbing, and stream after stream jolted from his shaft, as he filled his son. He felt a warmth spread amidst his stomach fur. Felt the pulsing spurts of his son's climax, too, as it painted his flesh and fur.

And he fell. Still twitching, still locked inside, he fell. Arms entangled, bodies sticky and heavy, they fell and they lay. And here, on this disheveled bed, they were one. One in desire, and need. One in this moment of absent-minded release.

But that moment passed.

And though his knot was -- and would remain for a time -- still trapped within that ring...reality came flooding back. The realities of yesterday...and of tomorrow.

The truth of why he was here. The truth of what was to come.

And Kristoff gripped his son. He closed his eyes. And tears darkened the fur of his cheeks.

But it would be okay. They would make it through. They would overcome. Because they had to. And he knew. He knew, that no matter what tomorrow might bring...tomorrow or the weeks to come...that they would, at least, look back on this day...

...with a smile.

~

(November 15th)

Just one day earlier: Friday night.

One day before Kristoff would breed and tie his son. Four days since the detectives had come and gone. And six after the confession that set it all in motion...

...Kristoff rose to the sound of a door bell.

Elliot was gone. Visiting a friend. The adopted son -- and more -- of two of his teachers. Aaron and Billy had retreated to their room, and to the movie so loud it echoed through the walls. And Kris simply sat before the television, waiting for his son to come home...until he rose.

But the bell? Elliot would never ring the bell.

So who, then, might be on the other side of this door? He turned the deadbolt. Turned the handle, and pulled. And he was met with the gray and aged face of an unfamiliar squirrel.

"Can I help you...?" he asked, from behind narrowed eyes...

...and the squirrel smiled back, "Mr. Masters?"

"Yes."

"Are you Kristoff, or William?" he wondered, with a tilted head.

"Kris." The dog raised an eyebrow, "And who are you?"

At that, the squirrel shook his head, "My apologies." And he offered a paw, "My name is John Richards. I'm a detective with the county's special victim's unit."

Immediately, as with the flip of a switch, Kristoff was incensed, "I already told your partners I wouldn't be speaking with you anymore!" And he did not shake the offered paw.

"I know. I know you did," Detective Richards withdrew his arm. "But please. Please don't close the door."

And the husky didn't know why. Perhaps it was the look on the squirrel's face. Genuine. Sincere. But, for whatever reason, he didn't close the door. He allowed him speak...

...and speak, John did: "I know you've had issues with Detective Peterson."

"Not just with him," Kris scoffed.

"Marrow and Mansfield, too? Can't say I'm surprised," the squirrel rolled his eyes. "But I promise you, sir, I'm not here to accuse you of anything. I'm not even here to question you." He took a breath, and looked around nervously, "In fact, officially...I'm not here at all."

"I don't understand."

"I'm only here...as a courtesy," he explained. "For your son."

And Kristoff tilted his head, "For Elliot?"

"And for you," John nodded. "May I come in?"

Despite himself, the husky nodded in return and stepped aside, allowing this new detective in to the apartment. After all, he couldn't pretend he wasn't curious. And so, they made their way to the couch and sat before the dim light of the television.

He muted it. And he turned to the squirrel, "So what's this about?"

Clearly, Detective Richards was nervous, but he pressed on, "There is...no easy way to say this, sir. So brace yourself."

And Kris did just that. Though he took care not to show the sudden fear boiling up behind his eyes. He braced himself...and he waited.

"Mr. Masters, you've lost custody of your son," the detective disclosed...gentle, but direct. "By this hour, Sunday, he will be with your wife."

And it seemed, in that moment, as if the temperature of the room had dropped twenty degrees. Kristoff shivered. He tensed. His fur stood on end. And he wanted to rise, to scream, and to lash out! But he simply sat and stared.

Too stunned, even, to rage.

And Detective Richards went on: "It has been determined, via our interviews and the evidence at paw, that Elliot is not safe living with you and your brother. And a temporary custody order is being drafted as we speak, to leave him in the custody of your wife, at least until the divorce is final."

"Not safe? Not SAFE!?" Finally Kris shot up from his seat, "You have NO evidence to prove that either me OR my brother has EVER hurt my son!"

"No," the squirrel responded, his voice calm, metered...and almost ashamed. "But we have evidence to prove that he was molested by someone, in part thanks to your son's own admissions. And your wife's lawyers -- with my partners' help -- have convinced a judge that you're not fit to protect him."

"That I'M not!? Just me?" Krisfoff bellowed. "Whatever might have happened to Elliot, Robyn was there, too! She didn't protect him from it any better than I did! So what the hell makes you think she can now?"

And John hung his head as he continued, "The argument is being made that she -- unlike you -- has no history of exposing him to homosexuals."

"This is bullshit!" the husky barked, a finger pointed down at the detective. "This whole damned charade has never been about Elliot or his well being, at all! Not a one of you, Robyn included, gives a shit about what's best for my son...about protecting him, or about catching the dog that hurt him!" He leaned closer, not at all considering that it could be taken as a threatening advance, "This has ALL just been about taking Elliot away from me!"

But Detective Richards looked him in the eye, "I know."

And Kris was staggered, reeling back, "Wh-what?"

"You're completely right."

"I...I don't..." he blinked, and shook his head...

...as the squirrel explained: "Mr. Masters, ever since this case crossed my desk, I've been trying my damnedest to keep the focus on Elliot. We have a child molester to catch, no matter who he may be. And our first concern should be that alone." His lip curled in a hiss, "But my partners? All three of them have been focused on one thing and one thing only."

Kristoff muttered: "Me."

"You," John concurred. "They don't seem to care who's actually guilty, or about protecting your son or future victims. They have bought into everything your wife and her lawyers have said. And unfortunately..." he sighed and looked away, "...you've lost your son because of it."

The husky wanted to rage. He wanted to scream, and lash out, and strike the messenger. But it was clear this squirrel was not his enemy. There was no one here to hurt. No one to punish. No one to blame. His anger -- his shield -- shattered...

...and the weight came down upon him in an instant. He fell. His legs gave way, and he stumbled back, tumbling into his chair and slumping down. Elliot. He was losing his son.

"I can't believe this is happening..."

"Mr. Masters, I know something happened to Elliot. The evidence is irrefutable, and your son himself admitted to it." John's voice remained calm, but sure, "But despite what your wife says, and what my partners may think, I do not believe you're the one who did it. Nor do I believe you're to blame."

Kris wasn't so sure he agreed. "You may be the only one."

"Elliot clearly loves you. He wants to be with you." John offered a soft little smile, "And though I hadn't met you before today, I believed -- and still do -- that you're a good father. And I felt you deserved to be warned," he sighed, "...before my partners show up at your door on Sunday."

"Why?" the husky looked up...

...and after a short pause, Detective Richards explained: "My father and I were very close. I loved him very much. It's no stretch to say that, until I fell in love for the first time as an adult, I'd never loved anyone as much as I had him." A smile had grown upon his aging gray muzzle as he spoke, but it faded quickly away, "And in my line of work, I see abused children. I see horrible parents. I see boys who will never know the love of a father the way I did." He looked the distraught dog in the eye, again, "But Elliot does. And I couldn't sit by and watch the two of you get torn apart...without at least warning you."

And now he did have warning. Now Kristoff knew what was coming. So then, maybe he could stop it! He only had two days, but maybe that could be enough. There had to be something he could do...some way he could keep this from happening.

Maybe even, come Sunday...they just wouldn't be here when the detectives came knocking.

"But Mr. Masters?" As if he'd read the husky's thoughts, the squirrel spoke up again, "I should advise you not to run. I know you don't want this to happen. I know, right now, you would do anything to stop it. But please, don't run." He offered a dim, but reassuring smile, "This is only temporary. This order only gives her custody for the duration of the trial. In the end, you could still win Elliot back. But that will not happen, if you run." He resolutely urged: "You need to cooperate."

"Then...then why?" Kris asked, almost pleading. "What was the point in warning me, if...?"

"I just didn't want you to be surprised. I wanted you to know what was coming." And with a dark little chuckle, John added: "And I didn't want you to make it worse, by going to jail for assaulting Detective Peterson."

So, then, what could he do? The husky's mind stalled and sputtered, jammed up and overflowing with idea upon hopeless idea. Fears, fantasies, rage, and dread. So much. Too much. What could he do?

And how could he tell Elliot? Or should he, even? Should he really burden him with this? Or just let him live his last two nights here in happy ignorance?

What? How?

Why?

But amidst it all, the detective, again, began to speak...

"When I was a teenager...many, many years ago," John chuckled for a moment, before his voice quickly darkened, "I went to war. I wanted to serve my country. I wanted honor and prestige. I was young and naïve, and I had no idea how controversial my decision would be, eventually, for some." And he sighed and shook his head, "Or how controversial it would be, immediately, for my father."

Kristoff could only blink, "What...what does this have to do with...?"

But the squirrel held up a paw to stop him, and went on, "He wasn't angry with me. He never stopped loving me. But he didn't want me to go." He shrugged, "I don't know if he didn't support the war, or if he just didn't want his only son dying overseas."

From a father's perspective, Kris could only assume: "Probably the latter."

"But no matter why, the last time I saw his face...he was sad. He was crying. He was disappointed. And I left him like that." John hung his head, again, "I didn't know I'd never see him again. After all, I was the one going to war. I was the one who might die, not him. He..." he stifled his rising emotions with a long, deep breath, "...he was still supposed to be alive when I came home."

In the silence that followed, despite everything, the husky couldn't help but wonder how the detective's father had died. But he knew better than to ask...

...and John went on: "I was sure I'd be seeing him again, and so I let that be the last moment we ever had. My last memory of him. And now all I have left is regret." He looked up, "Mr. Masters, I came here tonight to give you the chance to make the most of what time you and Elliot have left. Just in case. To make your last memory one you can look back on with a smile. And not with regret."

Kristoff nodded. His eyes widened.

No regrets.

And the squirrel continued, "Be it for these few months of the trial, should she lose...for the years left until he's an adult, should she win...or even..." he spared them both the worst case scenario, "you should make your last day one worth remembering."

~

(November 16th)

And so it would be, early the next morning. Saturday.

Hours before the empty apartment, and that passionate kiss. Before he would lay his son down in that disheveled bed. Before their perfect, blissful moment of absent-minded release...

...Kris caught William alone in the kitchen.

"Psst. Billy," he beckoned his younger brother with a whisper...

...and after a quick glance around the room, Will stepped close, "Uhm...yeah?"

"Do you think you could do me a favor?" Kristoff asked.

"Yeah, sure. What do you need?"

"I need to you take Aaron out on a date. A long one," he specified: "all day."

"Uhm..." the younger husky tilted his head...

...but Kris assured him: "I'll pay for it. Dinner, movie, whatever you need."

"Yeah. Okay!" William smiled, pleasantly surprised. "But what's going on?"

"I just, uhm...I think Elliot and I could use a little privacy, is all."

"Oh?" And Billy jumped, with a yelp, "Oh! Really? A-are you...?"

"I just..." Kristoff shrugged, "I want to make this a day...worth remembering."

~

(November 17th)

Elliot woke.

He woke in his father's bed. And the first thing he saw was that father's smiling face.

There would be no wringing of paws, this morning. No uncertainty. No questions about what happened, or should have, the night before. No regrets.

His father kissed him on the mouth and held him. And he melted into both. They smiled, they talked. They let the apartment around them stir to life, before they even tried. They barely spoke of what happened, but they didn't avoid it. And when the time came, his father forced him from the bed. Said he would make them breakfast, but sent Elliot off to shower.

Gotta' wash away all that evidence, after all.

They laughed. And Elliot knew what they'd done was right.

He showered. He dressed. He came to breakfast with a smile -- and under the knowing eyes of an uncle, who he only then realized had been privy to it all. He ate. He basked in the warm comfort of honesty. Of trust. And of family. Here with his father, his uncle, and Aaron.

No secrets. No worries. Just love.

But when the doorbell rang, he didn't notice how his father's eyes darkened. No one did. How Kristoff's shoulders slumped, or the whimper stifled behind his teeth. Days from now, Elliot would look back and see it all. They all would.

But in this moment, it was just a chiming bell. It was just the simple sight of Kristoff rising to answer the door.

In this moment. This short fleeting moment, before that door swung wide. Only one of them knew...

...it was goodbye.

~

And Sibirskaia continues...

* This particular chapter (and the rest of Sibirskaia) was written entirely by Oloroso Rhone. But it was based on characters and story lines I created jointly with my friend Phil Anthro Pist

If you'd like to go say hi to Phil, he's got an account on here at http://phil-anthro-pist.sofurry.com/ *

Sibirskaia is half way through!

Nothing else I'd like to say here. I'll just wait to see what you have to say.

But, thanks for reading!

I welcome any feedback. Comment or PM me here, or email me at theottercoon[at]gmail.com

And if you enjoyed this chapter, and want to support my efforts to write more, I welcome any donations you would be willing to give

via PayPal for a one-time donation! Or CLICK HERE if you'd like to become my Patron on Patreon!

See you around for the next 15 chapters of Sibirskaia!