Youth (Pt. 1 of "In The Beginning")
#1 of In The Beginning
Youth
by H. A. Kirsch, copyright 2006.
Disclaimer: This story is unedited. All of my work on yiffstar from now on will be such, because I am attempting to write a novel. This is the novel version of those 'rarities' CD's, where you get to hear demos of your favorite bands where they forget the words and someone drops their drum stick.
Also, this is porn. I don't have to say any more.
http://wolfhawk.blogspot.com/ - Writings Blog
"Remind me why we're walking in the woods, Hank?"
The black wolf shrugged under his biker jacket. "Kidnapping."
"Huh?"
"Derrin, you never get my jokes," he sighed, and kicked a rock. "I dunno, it's woodsy. I like woods. Just wanna go somewhere without people and sit around."
The raccoon looked up at him. "So, uh, why are you dragging me along?"
"I don't want to get bored."
They arrived at a clearing by a stream, the wolf sitting down against a rock. "So what, this is what you do when you disappear?"
Hank nodded. "Yeah. You know. It's soothing. You just stare at the water. It's kind of like fire, except less fiery." He crossed his arms, propping them up on his knees, boot heels digging into the dirt and gravel. "It's nicer when it's sunny out. Kind of comes through the trees. Real cool on a fall morning."
"Never thought you were much of a romantic. You just scowl at everyone and ride around on a motorcycle, go to half your classes."
"I go to college."
"Same difference," The coon said, picking up a rock and chucking it into the water. "You know, this is a total makeout spot."
"Huh?" Hank said, looking over. He draped a big paw on his knee.
"Yeah. The ultimate. No one else comes here to make out. Virgin dirt." The coon stretched out a heel and dug around in the dirt, then looked up to the wolf.
"Never been fucked. That I know of." Hank shivered a bit, his hackles rising. He knew something was coming. The conversation was going where teenage conversations always went. He didn't feel teenaged and didn't want to have it.
"Hah. You or the dirt?" Derrin grinned, and pulled his tail around his feet. Hank growled. "I've never seen you with-"
"I don't like girls," Hank blurted, and stared at the stream. His ears turned red inside, and he swept them back, feeling stupid and angry. Nothing was said for a few long moments.
"Oh. Huh. Neither do I." Derrin didn't sound as nervous. The wolf looked over.
"What? Fuck you, trash-head."
Derrin chirped. "Hey! I'm not kidding! When was the last time some guy joked about that shit? Guys don't joke about that shit!"
"God damn, it's a fucking after school special." Hank hissed and fondled a little stone, then thumped it at the ground, chuckling "Never done it. Anything. Keep to myself too much."
"Well no shit," Derrin smirked, tossing a similar rock up and down in a paw. "I licked some kid's dick back in grade school. We were just screwing around."
"Did you like it?" Hank asked, his ears still red. He was suddenly aroused. The prospect of sex hadn't come up with anyone before, much less with his best friend.
"Well, I was just a kid. Yeah, I guess. I mean, I want to suck someone's dick again. You know, a real blowjob. I'd probably screw up. It can't be as simple as it seems," Derrin said, then tossed the stone into Hank's lap. "I bet you have a boner."
"No I don't," The wolf growled, his knees shoving together. Derrin saw it and reached over.
"You're the kinda guy who'd get a boner cuz he's nervous," the coon half-laughed, himself nervously, a paw trying to grab the wolf's legs apart.
"Hey, fucker, stop it! I said I didn't! And what kinda guy do you... I mean... " Hank stumbled, both the coon's paws finally getting the wolf's legs apart. His jeans were bulged right up to his belt.
"Whoa." Derrin just reached over, stroking his black fingers along the bulge. Hank grumbled, ears tipping to the sides.
"Uh. Shit. Well, just..." He closed his eyes, defeated and yet still winning. "You can do whatever you want. You can suck it-"
"I dunno, what if I gag, and you shoot all over my face? Then I'd smell like wolf all day. Someone'd notice," Derrin said. He squeezed; Hank shifted. Claws moved to undo the buttons. "Geez. How the hell do you fuckin' piss? I'd get impatient. Zippers for me."
Hank grabbed for his own fly, slapping the coon's fingers out of the way as he quickly opened up. "You get used to it."
Derrin's eyes lit up at the display, watching the wolf's black shaft slip out. "Oh god, I don't know if I could get used to that. Wow. It's black," Derrin said, fingers slipping up to grab around Hank's cock, slowly feeling along it. The shaft pulsed, the wolf groaning and leaning back. It was jet black, hooded and completely human, the head swelling under the foreskin enough that it kept it from slipping back unless molested. Not to mention rather long...
"No shit. Uhh," Hank started to say, then fell quiet. Wet, slick fluid started to ooze out of the head, running down Derrin's fingers as the coon slowly pumped the flesh, the skin rolling up and down the head.
"You drip too, huh?" The coon said softly, looking up at Hank's face, then just returning to smoothly jerking the wolf off. He didn't seem to be in any hurry, letting out a soft churr now and then. "Wow. I really like your cock. It's.... it feels nice. Fun to play with."
Hank felt like he had his poker face on. His fur prickled at the sensation, his excitement focusing down into a spike up through the center of his maleness. He felt breathless, nervous, faintly ashamed and very glad to have a hand on his cock. He grunted, shifting, rising up to his knees.
"What's wrong?" Derrin said, stopping. Hank grabbed the coon's wrist, keeping it moving.
"Don't stop, dammnit, I just don't wanna shoot all over myself." Hank's ears flattened, his back arching. Derrin slid up behind him, fist pumping over the wolf's length roughly. Hank reached up and clapped a paw over his mouth, yelping mutedly, a white drool oozing out over the coon's fingers, followed by a blast of spunk that landed a few feet away. He shivered, shoulders sinking down, his shaft pulsing now and then. Derrin looked up at him, let go, sat back. Hank looked around, shook off the last of his seed, leaned back against the rock. He did his fly back up.
"Uh. So what now?" Derrin said, as the wolf moved into a crouch, dusting off his jacket a little.
"We get going. It's gonna rain."
It rained.
Harnk was the only student at Kincaid High School with his own home. "Home" in this case was a 'manufactured home' that had been owned by his mother after his parents were divorced. Hank had been twelve when it happened; by the time he was sixteen, he was on his own. He fought for emancipation to get financial aid for community college; he had to stay in public high school until age 18 but had skipped over enough classes to leave when he was 16. The administration let him go to school three days a week, half a day; the other two were spent working part-time for the janitorial staff. There was no college tuition reimbursement: Lainsville was not a big place, and the town had only one high school and one small college. Emancipated, he qualified for federal aid to go to neighboring Barn County Community College. B3C had a mechanical engineering program. Hank was enrolled the first semester of his junior year.
His parents' split hadn't really destroyed his life. It was mostly due to his mother. She was human. Hank was pure wolf - the genes always won - and so was his father. His mother couldn't handle the differences between hybrids and humans. She couldn't handle the behavioral quirks, the little bits and pieces taken for granted by hybrids - fur everywhere, smelly coat conditioning - the cultural divisions.
After the fall - the casual term for the event that led to hybrid animal-people - racism blurred away, replaced by speciesism. Wolves lived up to their reputation as moody, tempermental creatures with pack mentality when it was important. That pack mentality left Hank's father away from home on business. His mother could never quite handle sex with him too often, could handle the sex he had away even less. His father moved to California, mother to live with her sister on a farm in Kansas. She sold her trailer to Hank.
Hank was teased at first, mostly for being a half-breed and then for having a tendency to scowl. Once he started capitalizing on his ink-black fur, the jeers stopped. The janitorial work only helped cement him as a pure outcast, not even the target of rude words. It fit him as well as anything, most figured: he was tall and strong, put to use carrying around heavy supplies and working in the athletic department helping restore the facilities, quiet and resolute.
One of the storage areas was right behind the men's locker room, an ad-hoc space made from an HVAC access hallway. Hank made the choicest discovery of his high school career in that storage room, a week after the incident with Derrin.. While shuffling some quarter-round molding in while carpet was being installed in the coach's office, he jabbed at the makeshift drywall. It cracked, a chunk falling away. He wouldn't have paid it much attention until he flicked off the single lightbulb keeping the space lit. Light cut through to the other side of the room in a narrow sliver. Hank came over and put an eye up to the glowing hole. The showers were on the other side of the wall, and one of the plumbing access panels was missing, drywall screwed on over it. With the gypsum gone, he could see the back of the mixer valve for one shower. Around the assembly was a gap; through that gap was a view of four foxes showering.
Four foxes. Hank had his eye up against the crack the second he saw a black-tipped red tail. These foxes always stuck together; this particular group was part of an after-school lacrosse team. There was something about foxes. Slender, athletic, always about, never quite obvious in their intentions... One fox was right up at the shower in front of the peephole, soaping up. Hank was pretty sure the fox was named Peter. Peter was beautiful, even when sopping wet.
The wolf looked down at his watch. He had half an hour left of his shift. For half an hour, no one would be looking for him. Blood starting to run hot, he stalked around the cramped room, eyes adjusting. He grabbed a two-by-four and shoved it up under the doorknob, blocking the door shut. He moved back to the peephole, breathing heavily as he hurridly unzipped his pants. On the other side, the fox was getting to the shower money shot. Clearly oblivious, talking to his friends, trading whoops and hollers as soapy paws slid over his sheath and balls. Something about the sheath had Hank's prick dripping and rock-hard in no time. Some had it, some didn't. Wolf didn't, fox did. Peter even slid his back, cleaning inside, letting his cock slide through soapy fingers. The other foxes jeered him for it, Peter shrugging. Even hiding a prick, it was a tantalizing, cream-furred piece.
Hank didn't think about jerking off; he just did. He imagined what it would be like to be the one helping clean off that red and black fur; how he'd look towering over the smaller, lithe fox; how the fox would look with ten inches of black cock ramming into his mouth-
The wolf let out a groan as Peter turned, soaping up his tailhole. Hot spunk splattered all over Hank's paw as he held it around his cockhead. He grunted, licking up the mess, swearing to himself as he tried to put the drywall back, then do up his pants.
After his shift, school was out for the day. Instead of just leaving, red-eared, he was forced to hang around in back tending to his cantankerous motorcycle. Derrin approached him while he was digging around inside the ignition controls.
"That thing ever work?" The coon asked, startling Hank enough that he banged his head on one of the cylinder heads.
"Would I be sitting here working on it if it didn't?" Hank scowled. "Gimme the wrench in the left saddlebag."
Derrin took his paws out of his sweatshirt, fetching the wrench. "I'll give it to you if you give me a ride home. I missed the fucking bus again."
"Fine," the wolf groaned, taking the wrench and reattaching the ignition control cover. He stood up, straddled the bike. He caught a smirk from his friend. "What the hell's that for?"
"Just like how you straddle that," the coon smirked. Hank glared. He turned the key, kicked over the bike. It sputtered for a few kicks, then roared to life. "Motherfucker. Gotta rip this shit's cylinder heads apart or something. I think it's all crap inside. Fuckin' junkyard motor. C'mon, get on."
Derrin hopped up as Hank put his helmet on. "Hey, wanna hang out or something? Like at your place? My stupid cousin Michelle is visiting and I can't stand her. All she does is try and play with my tail."
"Michelle's four. Yeah, whatever," Hank said, and they roared off.
Hank had known Derrin Apel since sixth grade, when he'd moved to Kincaid with his parents. Derrin was the only person who bothered to try and befriend the wolf, and they grew pretty close even if it wasn't always apparent to outsiders. Hank had been worried shitless that something was going to come between them as a result of the prior week's activities. That something was nothing.
"You ever kissed a guy?" Hank asked, as they lay on the wolf's bed, watching mindless garbage on TV. Both were in their boxer shorts.
"Nope," Derrin said, stretching. "So I had no idea. How long..?"
"I dunno, a long time," Hank growled, staring at the ceiling. "You know. I guess I tried to like tits, but that didn't really happen. Eventually, I just figured out I like dick." Of course, there was much more to the story, but Hank figured he could just let that drop. Guys don't do pillowtalk, he told himself.
"You're so frank," the coon chuckled, a bulge appearing in his boxers. Hank smirked at him for it. Derrin smiled back. "I think I always knew. Ehh. I decided no one would really want me or something, kind of pudgy."
"Don't say shit like that," Hank growled, eyes on the bulge.
"I'm kidding! So, want to fuck?" The coon chuckled, sliding an arm around Hank's shoulders. He got a yellow-eyed stare. "What? I'm just being-"
Hank nearly pounced the raccoon flat on his back, pinning his friend down by the shoulders, muzzle attacking muzzle. Hank licked across the coon's lips, then against the tongue that slid out exploring, then bit, nipped, snarling, slithered his tongue inside when he could. After a few long moments, Derrin pushed the wolf off. "What?"
"How'd you learn to do that! Jesus! Jesus Christ!" the coon chirred, barely able to hold the wolf away.
"Lucky guess," Hank growled, yanking his boxers down, black length flopping out. He straddled the coon's chest. "Remember how you said you wanted to suck someone's dick again? Suck mine."
Derrin didn't resist. He leaned forward, pink tongue curling out around the head. He licked his lips for a moment, then slid slender fingers up around the wolf's rump, tilting his head up and slurping the head up into his muzzle. Hank swore, pushed forward, drew a gag out of the coon as he pushed too far, drew back. Derrin tried to thrust his head, but drew back after a few tries, panting. "Shit, can't bend that far. Not flexible enough."
"Doesn't matter," Hank snarled, scooting up farther, his paw forcing his cock down to a steeper angle, pushing it against the coon's lips. Derrin's ears swiveled, went back as he took the length in again. Hank was so overcome by the sensation, nothing at first and then a supremely arousing wet warmth, that he barely registered a sense that he was doing something wrong. That sense went away when Derrin started urging him on, pulling and squeezing at the wolf's rump. The coon mumbled something.
"What was that?" Hank said, drawing back.
"Get over on your back, I saw this on TV," was the breathless response. Derrin wrestled the wolf onto the pillows and shuffled himself up next to Hank's chest, tail thwapping. He churred and opened his maw, downing the length until there was a definite resistance. The coon choked and went further, another three inches, body stiff as he swallowed hard.
"Oh fuck, don't stop that!" Hawk snapped, and a paw moved to Derrin's head. The coon yanked up off, tongue hanging out, drool dripping off his fangs. He was breathing almost painfully hard.
"Urgh, it was in my throat! Wow! That's crazy!"
"Did you really see that on TV?"
"Yeah, don't you get HBO? All that real late night stuff? You know us coons, up all night..." The coon started nursing at the head of Hank's black shaft again. "Come on, do it again, put some of that rough into it.. I bet I can take it."
The coon went down, and then down some more, and then he was snorting as fur tickled his nose, a hand grabbing down around the wolf's root so there was less to tickle with. Hank gave a thrust and the coon flinched, then massaged up at the wolf's thigh. Taking it as a sign that Derrin liked it, Hank started to thrust steadily, grabbing his bony fingers around the coon's shoulders.
Derrin was careful to yank off and inhale, then yank off an exhale. The frank rudeness of the sounds filling the room - snorts, slurps, hard breathing and the back-of-the-throat gag of someone taking it down the throat - made Hank feel ashamed, even a little disgusted, and much more aroused. So much so that he lost it after five or six rough head-bobs and filled the coon's mouth with his spunk, hissing out a strained groan. The coon pulled off, swallowed, and wiped his maw.
"Wow. That's crazy. So, uh, you want to do me, too?"
There was no smoldering afterglow, dizzying giddy feeling, or bliss for the wolf. Instead, there was the absence of constant teenage sexual need, a void that filled in with everything he usually thought about. The inrush made him narrow his eyes and scowl. "I don't know."
"Aww. Y'all scared?" Derrin rolled over onto his back, grinning up at Hank. The wolf didn't change his expression.
"Well. No. But I don't feel very well. And I kind of need to study for a test tomorrow. And... " he sucked in a breath and let it out with a long wheeze through his teeth. "I guess that was enough... for now. You know?"
Derrin looked pensive. "Yeah. I guess we're just wasting time. Might as well get going." The coon got up and hopped himself into his jeans, then shirt, then the rest. "See you round!"
"Later," Hank said, and waved as the coon took off.
Alone, he felt more than just the usual insecurities and angst. The blowjob had felt like just a brief explosion of pleasure and an even briefer moment of time, but inside that moment had been the most horrifying sensation Hank had ever felt. It was sexual rage. Did Derrin want more than just to suck the wolf off? Because all Hank wanted, in that brief moment, was the sexual aspect. The prospect of anything further left the sucking hole he found himself in, alone in his room.
The immediate problem was a rush of desperate feelings and questions that left Hank feeling like he was going to cry, then feeling like he couldn't. The immediate solution was to go to sleep. What's more important before a test than a good night's sleep? When faced with depression, Hank slept like a dead man.