Up the Lattice

Story by SlyLemur on SoFurry

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Here is a nice little story about a fantasy a lot of us have, making our long distance relationships very, very short distance. On those lonely nights, some of us longingly peer out the window and wish our lovers could just pop up and be with us. What if that happened? This is just a short little piece, which may or may not have a continuation. If you're under 18 you technically shouldn't be reading this, but fuck it. I wouldn't know unless you told me.

While you're here, also take a look at a saucier depiction of these two: https://www.sofurry.com/view/898547

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

So there I was, sitting on my bed like a god damn pussy. I was staring out the window and flinching every time another pebble gently flicked the frosted glass. He was out there, standing below my bedroom window like Romeo fucking Montague. I couldn't bare the thought of looking him in the eyes, not in person anyways. No matter how much he told me it didn't bother him, I just knew he wouldn't be able to stand the sight of his Juliet being a tubby fuck.

Anxiety does funny things, like making your bedroom walls squeeze down on you whenever that certain someone comes to mind. Like incessantly reminding you that you need constant reassurance to know that people don't think you're a piece of shit. I didn't know if he loved me like he said he did on Skype. I sat there on my bed staring at that window because someone typing that they love you from hundreds of miles away is way fucking different from looking you in the eye and saying it. Anxiety made me wonder how long it would take for him to die in the cold. Not that I wanted him dead. I was just calculating how long I could possibly put off having to open my window. He probably didn't think being romantic would give him hypothermia, but unfortunately, his long (now short) distance boyfriend was a coward. They say opposites attract and it hadn't crossed my mind how true that was until a dainty knock yanked my eyes to the window.

The little shit had climbed up the lattice! There was no denying it now; the brave fucker drove a hundred miles to hang off the side of my house in a snow storm. Okay, maybe it was more like a flurry, but I get kind of worked up thinking about this so forgive me if I can't recall the exact weather conditions. I don't think he even noticed the cold. He probably didn't even care. He was just staring through the window, panting hard enough for his hot breath to clear some of the frost on the glass. He even drew a little "hi" and a heart onto the glass with a gloved finger. The cute little shit. I saw his eyes and matched his stupid grin.

I'm sure he was real pleased with himself, probably equating the moment to a conclusion of an epic trek through snow and "desire". Don't get me wrong, I suggested we meet at the mall or some regular bullshit like that, but he insisted that his arrival be a surprise. He wasn't a dumb guy, but rather straightforward and clearly into a Shakespearean style of moonlight romance. I just hoped it didn't end the same way.

Wait. Let me go back a bit.

We met online, which immediately invalidates the entire relationship, right? At least, that's what I've heard sometimes. People condescendingly say how it's not real, or asking "how do you know it's not a 50 year-old guy jacking off to your nudes?" Admittedly, I did worry about that from time to time. Pursuing a relationship that began on a role playing chatroom does seem rather risky in hindsight. Especially since all I knew about him was that he was good at virtual fucking. Sentence structure and all that. Pretty good with puns, too. Coming (heh) online every night with his possibly dubious persona became a sort of ritual. This behavior naturally meant that we had plenty of time not only to role play, but to chat a bit too.

I learned his name, age, species, where he lived, and eventually, his Skype account name. We agreed on a night to cam and even up to the moment when the notification popped onto my laptop screen, I still had my doubts. Technically, I only knew him by his words, but I answered the video call anyway. Deep down, I knew that all he had were my words too.

He barked when he saw me for the first time. I think it was the happiest thing I ever heard.

Now, like a portal that had opened up in my laptop, a stiff wind howled through my room as I helped him through the open window.

He's a beefy kind of guy, and I couldn't quite support him with my arms alone, flabby as they are. So they gave out pretty quick. He ended up face-first into the carpet while I hurriedly closed the window. Fantastic, right? My first physical contact with the guy of my dreams and the first thing he kisses is the floor. However, tough as he is, he picked himself up and wiped off his surely carpet burned, pink nose. I contemplated suffocating myself in his ridiculous marshmallow coat.

"What?" He mused in that cavernous voice of his, "No kiss?"

I realized that I had been staring. The voice that had only reverberated through computer speakers now rang through my chest. I was intoxicated.

"You promised me one," He spoke again.

I snapped out of it.

"Oh fuck you and your kiss! You can kiss my ass for coming here like this!" I was happy to see him, but that didn't mean I was ready.

"Is it the coat?" Fucking jokester.

I delivered the fakest laugh I could muster, "No! It's two in the goddamn morning!"

"I can drive back to Providence if you want."

He rolled his eyes at me as I sighed. Relenting, I shuffled over and hugged him. My head sank into his fluffy jacket until I felt his torso underneath. Before I could be lulled to sleep by it, his rising chest pushed me up to his face, where I kissed him. As if they refused to believe it was actually him, my lips were lame against his. He made a disapproving grunt and made me try again. I opened my mouth that time. Noticing my cooperation, he growled and pushed his broad tongue past my lips while I balanced on my toes. His meaty hands played on my ass and kept me elevated while we sucked face. It wasn't until the mutt started laughing into my mouth that I pulled back. My expression while I caught my breath asked what the fuck he found so amusing.

"You know, I really appreciate that you're not wearing pants."

"Yeah, I sleep in my underwear, you faggot." Usually, that's all I wear too. I managed to slip on a tank top before I helped him through my window. I figured man tits would kill the mood.

He crossed over to my measly bed, but not before giving me a parting squeeze to my butt. Christ, he had a strong grip. I found myself massaging the soreness away while he peeled off his enormous coat, and everything else he was wearing. My eyes immediately found his sheath and a hint of red poking through his boxers.

"Nice tent there, Izzy."

Sure enough, my white briefs portrayed an unmistakably dick-shaped peak. I guess only nerves coursed through my veins since all my blood apparently went to my cock. Oh, but some was left for my face since Adrian wasted no time in pointing out how red it was. My dick was nothing he hadn't seen before on a computer screen, but at that vulnerable moment, he could reach out and touch it.

And he did.

My body became as rigid as what he held in his fist. Years ago, like any other kid, I was eager to measure myself to see how I compared to the other boys at school. You know those conversations you overheard when you sat a little closer to the back of the bus than usual? There was always this bragging that got more and more elaborate through the years. It went from which boys knew what jerking off was back in fourth grade to who hadn't fucked Gretchen Miller by junior year. Those hushed sessions I was never directly apart of always nudged me to compete with them.

How did I measure up? Turned out to be four inches, almost four and a half on good days. Back then, I was devastated. The guys in the back of the bus were all sporting 8 inch dicks, right? Of course, as I got older, I came to realize that they were probably all lying to each other. Now, I've always known I wasn't huge, and knowing that one or two of them must have had dicks smaller than mine helped me sleep at night. I begrudgingly accepted that my penis was nothing to be ashamed of. But noticing that Adrian could just envelop the whole thing in his hand made me remember everything I heard on the school bus.

I cowardly skittered across the mattress, away from him, and muttered some bull about being tired.

His paw dived into his boxers to scratch his nuts as he gave me a passive shrug. "Okay. So, do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?"

I half-expected the pitbull to put up some sort of resistance since he'd came all the way from Rhode Island.

"Don't you think my bed is a little small to be spooning? It's just a twin size," I say in my subconscious effort to drive him off.

"If I'm not mistaken 'twin' means 'two people' don't it?" His massive hand patted a place for me on the comforter. His spot was occupied by his wiggling ass following the lead of its nubby tail.

I sighed at his rhetoric, but I managed to crawl back into my bed making it a shared space for the first time.

Adrian decided that his place on my twin bed would be that of the little spoon, despite how much bigger he was than myself. He laid down on his side and wiggled up the mattress until his head was level with mine. There was a soft grunt as he pushed himself back up against my stomach, which probably felt like another bed. We both laid motionless for a second which allowed me to realize just how warm it was getting. It's not that I didn't like it, but it was so different compared to the heat of a blanket alone. It wasn't until he snatched up my arm and pulled it over his chest that I realized he was waiting for me.

Then he mumbled something.

I stuttered out a quiet "what?"

"I love you."

I felt myself blush in the darkness, adding to the climbing heat. His paw clutched my hand and I felt one of his digits brushing gently over my knuckles. I couldn't doubt him anymore. Adrian was there in my bed with me, and he was just fine. The dog was exactly the same as he always was. He loved me when I was playing as a slutty character online, and when I couldn't stop shaking on our first Skype call. As he touched my hand and I stared in bewilderment at the back of his head, I knew that he was there because he loved me.

I wanted to cry, but I settled for rubbing his chest and returning the favor.

"I love you, too."

With a relaxed sigh, almost one of relief, he squeezed my hand. That actually made me feel like an asshole. I laid there next to him going through the day from his point of view. He probably spent all morning and afternoon driving through the snow to get to my place in the dead of night only to receive the "warm" welcome he got. It felt like the contents of my stomach were sucked up into my throat only to lurch out in a pathetic apology.

"It's okay," he reassured as he pulled my hand down his muscled torso, pausing on his hard stomach. "I think I deserve a belly rub, though."

I couldn't agree more.

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