Sibirskaia: Casualties of War Part 1
Casualties of War Retaliatory
(December 3rd)
"Good morning," a large rabbit stopped before a receptionist's desk...
...and, from behind it, a skunk smiled back at him, "Morning, sir! How may I help you?"
"I'm here to speak with -- and excuse me if I pronounce this incorrectly -- Mr. Castagnoli?" his voice rose slightly as if asking a question. The polite indication of his uncertainty with the name.
The skunk, though, simply turned to her computer screen, mouse in paw, "Do you have an appointment?"
"Not in any official sense, no. But I did call ahead." The rabbit motioned to the receptionist, "I believe I spoke with you."
And with no appointment there to find, she turned away from the screen, "You may have. But with all the calls we get, it's hard to keep track." And she asked: "Remind me: what's your name?"
"Stanley Jones."
It was barely more than the breadth of a hair...but her smile fell. There was a twitch. A recognition. And with it, the sharp corners of her smile drooped ever so slightly. Likely, such a shift would have gone completely unnoticed...
...but Stanley expected it. And he was watching.
"Of course, Mr. Jones." She waved an arm toward the row of chairs along the wall, "Have a seat, and I'll be back with you in a moment."
As they each stepped away, he to the chairs and she to the deeper areas of the office, Stan breathed a sigh of relief. William and Aaron had warned of Denise's overuse of perfume, but he had been convinced that they were exaggerating the extent. As hyperbolic as it may have sounded to say she 'bathed in it,' though...now that he'd finally met her, he couldn't exactly say they were wrong.
It was early this Tuesday morning, as Stanley sat and awaited her return. Meanwhile, somewhere else, a raccoon he'd met only twice was embroiled in a heated conversation with the principal of Sibirskaia High. That conversation would be a spark. In two nights, that spark would catch an ember...and the fallout of that conversation would begin to touch Stan's life, and that of his foster son as well. In two nights, a school board meeting would change everything.
But this Tuesday morning, the rabbit was investigating a more immediate concern. Less than a week before, he had met an otter by the name of Kiliona Anoa'i. That Thursday afternoon, he'd heard a story. He'd heard of how William really lost his job...heard of how his brother, Aaron, was being treated by his publishing firm...and heard the name Castagnoli.
And so, here he was to investigate his brother's, William's, and Kiliona's claims. Here he was to meet the dragon, face to face...and to hear what Castagnoli had to say for himself. It was only a step -- a small step in what he feared would be a long battle to come -- but he had to start somewhere.
So, he waited. He waited for the skunk, Denise, to return. He waited to be taken to Castagnoli. He waited...to face the dragon.
He smelled Denise before he heard her voice, "Mr. Jones?" and he heard her voice before she ever turned the corner to return to her desk. "I'm sorry," disingenuous, reflexive, "but it seems Mr. Castagnoli is busy at the moment."
"Is he? Peculiar," Stanley bent a floppy, dusty ear as he stood. "When I called earlier, you told me he was free.
"Well, he's not anymore," Denise answered, factual and cold. "Something came up."
"That's not a problem," the rabbit smiled in spite of her. "I'm in no particular rush. I can wait."
"Unfortunately, he'll be busy for the rest of the day."
And he arched and incredulous brow, "Is that so?"
"If you'd like," the skunk offered what Stan felt was the fakest smile he'd ever seen, "we could call you later to schedule an appointment."
But he simple shook his head, "No. That won't be necessary. I believe you've thoroughly answered my question, already. If I need more, someone will be in contact." But his own less-than-genuine smile never faded, "Thank you for your...uhm...enlightening reception."
~
(December 5th)
Two nights later, the spark had landed. The ember was lit.
Stanley Jones stood outside the doors of the school administration building, and again, he waited. This Thursday night, though, he didn't await a fragrant skunk, or his chance to face a dragon. Tonight, he awaited his charges: his children.
Hunter, Michael, and Donald.
He had been their ride, their only option to attend tonight's school board meeting. Kristoff, Aaron, and William could not chaperone, and the shepherd and hyena preferred their parents remain in the dark when it came to their involvement in the matter. So, it fell upon Stanley.
To be fair, of course, he would have been here, nonetheless, even if only for Hunter's sake. So it was hardly an inconvenience...
...but now, the meeting had come to an end, and Stanley waited for his children. Two had stopped by a restroom on their way out, and the third was currently unaccounted for. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to track that one down. The first smiling face, though, to greet him through the swinging doors -- the first eye to catch his own -- wasn't that of a tiger, a shepherd, or a hyena. It was the face -- the eye -- of a raccoon.
And with a muted smile, the star of tonight's proceedings, James Callaway, drew to a stop before him, "Evening, Stan."
"James," the rabbit nodded.
"Haven't seen you since Hunter's move," James led with the usual pleasantries...
...and Stanley met them in kind, "Perhaps one day, we may even meet under pleasant circumstances."
Only moments behind the raccoon, a sullen fox slid silently through the doors to join them.
"Stan?" James looked between the rabbit and the fox. "This is Scott, you met him at the funeral."
"I remember Mr. Hammond, yes." With an almost apologetic smile, Stan turned to Scott, the raccoon's recently outed lover, and offered a paw, "Quite the evening."
"Isn't it?" Scott shook the paw with a dark little laugh.
And Stan wasted no more time with pleasantries. He needed to take this opportunity while it presented itself. He needed to be heard while he had the chance. "What you've done tonight...both of you? It was very bold."
"For one of us especially..." James agreed, flashing Scott a sheepish grin.
"I hope you know," Stanley continued, "despite the opinions of some...there are those of us who recognize the risk you're taking." He counted off on his paw, "Your students, myself, and my new extended family, to name a few...despite their inability to attend..."
"Your extended family?" James interjected to ask. "You mean the Masters, right?"
"I do."
And Scott added: "Why couldn't they make it?"
With a sigh, Stan explained: "Kristoff isn't allowed to see his son at the moment, and until the accusations have been put to rest, neither is William. And we were uncertain as to whether Robyn would make an appearance, tonight."
James nodded, "...and she'd have used it against him, if they'd met up here. Painted it as a violation."
"This is the fear, yes," Stanley confirmed, before quickly moving along. "But my point is: we recognize the risk you've taken by outing yourselves. We know this was no simple decision. And it is appreciated."
"Thank you," Scott beamed a genuine, proud, and deserving smile.
"If I may ask, though," Stan allowed his curiosity to get the best of him. "What finally brought this about? I know you've been fighting to protect the boys on campus when you can, but what finally carried this to such a public stage? Why have you put your careers on the line?"
"Nothing else I'd done was getting me anywhere. Brick wall after brick wall," James recounted, through no small amount of frustration...
...before his boyfriend added, "And then someone important to us...made a powerful case." The two shared a short, silent glance, "Said that it was time we finally did something."
Staley smiled and nodded once more, "That's-"
"Mic!?" but before he could finish, James cut him off with a sharp, startled cry. And in a rush, the raccoon pushed past the rabbit, "Mic! What the hell happened?"
Blood.
Stan turned. And it was the first sight he saw. Blood. The busted muzzle of a hyena. He saw Michael Taylor trudging close: blood still glistening...still trickling from his nose and split lip...still soaking into his fur. His right eye was barely open. His gaze was cast aside...
"It's nothin', Mr. Callaway. It's nothin'." Michael shook his head for the briefest of moments, but then winced and stopped. The pain of even that simple shake was too much. "Don't worry about it. Just...just a price I had to pay for a friend."
"Mic." Stanley didn't move, didn't want to crowd the boy more than the doting raccoon already had. But he asked, nonetheless: "Who did this to you? Was this Brandon?"
"Stan, please? Drop it. I just..."
The boy looked him in the eye. And there was an emotion there that he just couldn't place. Something in those eyes -- the one open enough to see, at least -- that he couldn't put a finger on. Pride? Shame? Triumph? Defeat? Heartbreak? Love? In the days to follow, Stan would learn that it was too complicated to be any single one. He would learn that it was a little of each. But for now, he simply watched as those eyes met his own before dropping away...
"...can we just get Hunter an' Donald, and go home?"
~
(December 7th)
Two days later, the ember had flickered into flame.
Stanley Jones, though, did not know. He couldn't yet smell the rising smoke. Though, to be fair, neither could those who'd struck the spark. As of this Saturday afternoon, even Scott, James, and their students remained oblivious. Soon, of course, it would catch. Soon, it would be a wildfire. But today, life simply went along as usual.
Today, Stan was off from work. Or, at least as off as he could be. He was always on call, but being a family doctor left his schedule far freer than it had been years before, when he'd worked more exclusively for hospitals. Hunter, his son, was locked away in the bathroom, showering and preening for his outing, tonight, and soon the rabbit would have the house to himself.
To himself.
There was a time when he reveled in his solitude. He was a bachelor...and happy to be. He'd never married. He'd never had children of his own. He'd never envied happy couples. He'd never spent a Valentine's Day lost in bitter loneliness. He'd never fretted over seeing his name live on, or longed to see a smaller version of himself bounding through his home. As of late, though, his time alone had begun to sting. For the first time, it wasn't freedom he found in his vacant home...it was emptiness.
And the tiger in the shower was the reason why.
They had long been close, even when Stan was simply Hunter's grandmother's doctor. The tiger had no father. He was strong, of course. He was undaunted. He never let the void discourage him: never let it weigh him down. But the pain was there, and it was a void that Stanley had come to fill almost by default. The tiger did not beg, and the rabbit did not offer; it simply came to be. And by the time Dorothy passed, Stan was already his father. The will and the law declaring him Hunter's guardian was no more than a formality.
And now, for the first time, his empty home actually felt empty. Being alone was actually lonely. When his son was gone, he missed him...and it was now Stanley who was left with a void fill.
He loved the tiger. He enjoyed being a father. And for the first time, he was imagining a wife. He was imagining the thump of a young rabbit's paws in his home. He was imagining the family he might make in a few short years, when Hunter was gone.
For today, though, it was simply a day off, and Hunter was simply going to a party with his friends. Stan could have allowed himself to wallow in his impending loneliness. He could have nurtured his discomfort with what he knew the tiger's "party" would entail. He could have used that discomfort to justify some pointless puritanical rule, so he could keep his boy at home. But, instead, he simply settled in before his television for the afternoon and evening to come.
The television came to life, to the image of yellow police tape and flashing red and blue lights: an afternoon news story, half finished, detailing some violent crime somewhere in Sibirskaia, Brooksboro, or the surrounding hamlets and towns. He tuned it out. He always did. Another act of violence, another reminder of the state of affairs. Tomorrow it would be forgotten in the face of the next.
He sipped at his beer and let the news buzz away, like so much white noise to fill his empty living room. But as the story came to a close and the camera feed cut back to the newsroom, the smiling, plasticine face of female cheetah finally managed to catch his attention.
"A story from right here in Sibirskaia is getting state-wide media coverage this week, as two teachers from Sibirskaia High School publically outted themselves as homosexuals, Thursday evening. This came in the midst of a heated debate over discrimination policies for gay and lesbian students and faculty at..."
Wait. State-wide media coverage?
Had Mr. Callaway and Mr. Hammond really made that level of impact? The eyes of the entire state had fallen upon these two poor teachers, now? On their school, and their children, and their fight? No. No, not just that. The eyes of the state had fallen upon Sibirskaia, itself.
Upon them all.
A smile split the rabbit's muzzle. His beer clinked against a class coaster. He sat straighter, and he listened intently to the story he already knew by heart. But that one phrase resonated again and again. State-wide media coverage. Had he ever heard four such beautiful words?
This was it. This was the moment everything changed.
But first...he would need to speak with Mr. Callaway.
~
Moments like this, Scott Hammond was thankful to be a teacher.
He imagined other fathers -- more traditional fathers -- and the difficulties they would face, trying to size up the boys in his doorway: this hyena and the folf to his side. Could he trust his child alone with them? Would they provide a safe environment, this Saturday evening? Were they as honest and trustworthy as they seemed? What were their intentions? Were their motives pure?
Of course, it helped that he already knew exactly what their motives and intentions were. It helped that he was well aware of what activities tonight would entail, and had already given his consent. But it also helped that he was a teacher. It helped that he already knew the hyena and the folf -- Mic and Viri -- before they ever came knocking for his son. The folf was harmless as could be. And the hyena? Sure: he might send Jeff home a little sore under the tail, or perhaps a little stained and sticky for wear. But he was a good kid. He was clear with his intentions. And Jeffery would be safe...
"Is there any particular time we need him home, tomorrow, sir?" Mic asked with far more courtesy and formality than he ever showed Scott or James in the classroom...
...and Scott shook his head with a soft, little laugh, "Just try to have him home before evening. We like to go out for dinner on Sunday nights."
"Of course!" the hyena nodded, and, though still just as silent as he'd been since stopping before the door, Viri nodded along with him.
"I know, James, I know!" a voice -- Jeffery's -- echoed from deeper within the house, and Scott turned to see the kitten emerge from their living room. "It's not like it's the first time I've done it."
"The first time you've done what?" Mic asked, as Jeff drew to a stop at his father's side.
And that father shot the boy a subtle but stern glance: one he wished he could share with James, as well. He knew exactly what they were talking about. And in front of Elliot and Hunter, that kind of talk would be fine. But here, before Mic and Viri? They needed to at least TRY to act like a normal family. Or...as normal as they could be...
"Staying the night with a friend." Jeffery, though, didn't miss a beat. He knew the charade, and he was very good at upholding it. Sometimes Scott forgot that. "James is just being a worrywart. You know how mothers can be."
"Stop calling me your mother!" James's voice rang out from the living room...
...and in the door way, each of the four smirked and snickered to various degrees, before Scott lit a paw on his son's shoulder, "Okay, Jeff. Be good. If you need anything, don't be afraid to call. Make sure to tell Elliot, Hunter, and Donald I said hi, and..." he drew the kitten into a quick hug, as he placed a single kiss between his ears, "...have fun."
"I will!" Jeffery smiled as he stepped away from the hug, "See you tomorrow!"
And out the door he went.
Scott lingered. He stood in the open door way, watching as the three boys piled into Mic's car -- Mic and Viri in the front, and Jeff in the back -- and drove away. And with a sigh, he closed the door, and trudged slowly back into his home. He'd kept up the happy, optimistic mood for Jeffery, but there was no point in putting out the effort, any longer.
As he slinked back through the living room and to the couch, he knew James would notice the somber shift. He knew he would ask, despite already knowing the answer. And as he sighed and slumped into the couch alongside his raccoon, he welcomed the impending questions. There was a time when he might not have...
...but today...it would help to talk.
"Scott?" James turned in his seat to face the fox, "Are you okay?"
"Not really..."
"What's wrong?" his boyfriend tilted his head. "It can't be Jeff's party. I mean: with everything you two have done...I wouldn't expect this sort of thing to make you uncomfortable."
The fox replied first with a dark little laugh, "Well, the more I feel like a father, the harder all of that gets, but..." he shrugged, leaning his head back into the couch, "...but no, it's not that. I don't mind him having his fun."
"So, it's just...everything else, then?"
"Everything. Yeah." He closed his eyes and opened the gates. He needed to vent. He needed to talk. And his raccoon was always willing to listen, "I want him to have a good night, tonight, you know? I want him to enjoy himself, and to not have all this other shit hanging over his head. I mean: he deserves that, right?" It was a question, but he didn't give his lover a chance to respond, "So I'm keeping my mouth shut. I'm waiting. But it still feels like I'm lying to him. Like to even keep this from him for one more day, is...is dishonest, unfair...a betrayal, even." His paws clenched as he spoke, "And then...then what happens when he comes back? What happens when I have to sit him down on this couch and tell him that...that..."
"He's a strong kid, Scott. He's had to be." He felt James's paw force its way into his clenched fist, "He'll be okay."
"He's HAD to be," Scott repeated, opening his eyes again and kneading the black paw now wrapped up in his own. "But that's the point. After everything with his real parents, and his time on the road, and Tony, and you, and....and not to mention my own fucking libido! After everything he's been through, now he has to deal with this, too?" He relaxed when he realized how hard he was squeezing his boyfriend's paw, "I worry it's gonna' break him, James. And...and without me there to...to..."
"All the more reason for tonight, then, isn't it?" the raccoon asked with a gentle, little smile...
...and Scott simply shifted his eyes in silence.
"I mean: yes," James explained, "he does deserve a happy night before the hammer falls. But...that's not all tonight's about. He's making friends, Scott. He's building a life. And with what's coming..." he shrugged, "...doesn't it help to know he won't be alone?"
~
"Glad you didn't cancel on us, this time!" Mic chided playfully from behind the steering wheel. "We all missed you on Monday."
And from the back of the car, Jeffery leaned forward, his head between the two front seats so he could be heard, "Yeah...sorry I couldn't make it."
"Eh. No worries. This one bailed on us, too," the hyena pointed his thumb to the folf at his right. "Ended up just bein' me, Donny, Hunter, an' Ell."
And Jeff turned his eyes on that same folf: a European exchange student who he'd only just met today. He seemed nice enough, albeit shy...which was surprising, considering the green dyed headfur.
"You couldn't make it either?" the cat asked, hoping to draw his new friend into the conversation.
"No," Vir shook his head and stammered. "I wash...a little...uhm..."
To his left, Mic laughed, "If you can't tell, the folf's a bit shy."
"Shorry..." Viri's ears flattened out...
...but Mic offered a gentle pat to his thigh. "Don't be. It's cute."
"So that was all, then?" Jeffery asked to clarify. "Just a little...intimidated by the idea of such a big crowd?" And he leaned in to give the folf a playful, little nudge, "Especially letting us all see the folf bits?"
"Y-yesh," Vir blushed madly...
...and Jeff chuckled, "It's okay. I'm little shy, too. I mean: I've done stuff, before. Threesomes, even. But something like this?" He rested a paw on his own chest, "I feel like my heart's trying to beat its way through my shirt."
"R-rreally?" Viri turned in his seat to better look at the cat.
"Seriously, feel!" Jeffery moved his paw out of the way and presented his chest...
...and the folf in the front seat lifted a paw...but it was tentative, as if unsure of touching his new friend even that much.
Jeff assumed it was some sort of social barrier. He assumed it simply seemed odd to Vir that he'd been asked to feel someone's heartbeat. It probably had nothing to do with being uncomfortable with the prospect of physical contact...
...but it was too perfect of a joke to pass up. "You know you're gonna' be touching a lot more than my chest, later, right?"
With an ever deepening blush and once-again-flattened ears, Viri finally laid his paw against his new friend's chest.
"See?" Jeff smiled.
"I do!" the folf giggled as he pulled his paw away, and, finally, he relaxed enough to talk. It would be the most Jeffery had heard him say, yet, and he was very curious how the foreign exchange student would sound. But once he spoke, it was perfect English. He had thick accent of course, but he clearly knew the language well. "So...ish dat why you mished de parrty, too?"
Now, though, it was Jeff's turn to flatten his ears, "No. I wasn't being shy. I was...uhm...I just wasn't in the mood, that day."
"Okay kids!" before Vir could respond -- before Jeffery was forced to explain why he hadn't been in the mood -- Mic interrupted their conversation. "We're here."
The three boys bent forward in their seats involuntarily, as Mic pressed down the brake to turn off the old country highway, and onto a dusty gravel road. Trees rushed past the car on both sides, until they finally parted on the right, for an old shed, and a wide, empty field: farmland that clearly hadn't produced a crop in years. On the other side of that field, Mic turned again, down another dirty road, and in the distance Jeff saw their destination.
It was an old farm house. It wasn't the sprawling manor he had expected. It wasn't the image of the long dead gallant South he'd imagined: the white columned façade of an old plantation home. But neither was it some run down old shack. It was simply a house at the head of an empty field...even if it was the largest house he'd ever had the opportunity to stay in.
Two cars sat parked out front -- Hunter's and Donald's -- and Mic pulled his own to a stop beside them. All three boys stepped out of the car, and Jeffery's chest began to tremor. This was really happening! And he couldn't say whether he was excited or afraid. But whatever he was feeling, it made him completely forget what they were talking about in the car...
"Uhm..." until Viri turned to him to ask: "You shaid dat you werren't in de mood lasht time? Why not?"
"Yeah," Mic chimed in from the other side of the car, "Hunter and Ell told me when they called, that they were only able to talk to Scott. Said your dad wouldn't even put you on the phone." And he began making his way to the house, with his two younger friends following along, "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah! Yeah. I just..." Jeff stammered to answer, "...last week, some bad stuff from my past came up and I...I guess I was still reeling from it."
On some level, he wanted to tell them. He wanted to stop, right here on this unfamiliar lawn, and pour out his heart. He wanted them to know that he knew Anthony Sutela: the wolf he was sure they'd both seen on the news over the last week. He wanted them to know what Tony had done to him. He wanted their sympathy and their consolation. But this wasn't the place. This wasn't the time. Tonight was a happy occasion, and Tony's shadow did not belong here...
So he simply smiled, "I'm okay, now."
"Mind if I ask what it was...?" Mic asked, oblivious to the cat's internal turmoil, and to his decision to keep it to himself. But it wasn't a question born of nosey, unwanted, curiosity. It was of concern.
"Just uhm..." so Jeffery at least offered a short answer, "...let's just say I learned to avoid the news."
And the moment the words left the cat's lips, Mic stopped in his tracks and turned. A look of realization spread out from his eyes and to every inch of his face. He knew. Somehow, he knew. He stared down at the cat for little more than a moment, as that look of realization became one of shock, horror, sympathy, and finally shifted to the tiniest of smiles. And in that smile, for the first time today, Jeff noticed the cut on the hyena's lip...
At once, the older boy strode forward and leaned in for a hug. It was the tightest hug the little cat had ever gotten, and it forced the breath from his lungs. But he returned it. He closed his eyes, and he squeezed with all his might. Later, he would ask how his new friend knew. He would ask about that split lip, and about exactly what connection this hyena had with Tony. But for now, he would happily take this hug and the nose nuzzling gently into his neck.
A soft whisper tickled his ear, "I'm here, if you ever wanna' talk." And with that, Mic leaned away, sharing his now wider smile both with Jeffery and with the clearly confused folf to their side, "Come on kids! Let's get inside! If Donald's here...they might've already started without us!"
~
Elliot and Hunter had told Jeffery all about this place, before.
This was the home of the late Dorothy Thurman: Hunter's grandmother. Both he and his father had been raised here, and though Dot had moved out and into a smaller and more manageable house in her old age, she'd never sold the property. Now that she'd passed away, it belonged to Hunter. In the long term this meant, once he was old enough, he would have to decide whether to keep it or to sell it -- whether or not he could handle the property taxes, and wanted to continue living in Sibirskaia -- but in the short term, it simply meant that he had the keys and open access to this sprawling private farmland, and to its empty old house.
Looking around, Jeff imagined the memories locked away in these walls. He imagined two tigers growing old together, here. He imagined family dinners. He imagined a smaller tiger -- be it Hunter or his father -- running through the halls, and bounding through the wilderness outside. He imagined a quaint, happy country life...
...which sat in stark contrast to the scene of a husky blowing a German shepherd, in front of him.
He hadn't met the shepherd, Donald, before today...and in fact, he still hadn't, really. The big dog was already quite preoccupied with Elliot's muzzle when Jeffery stepped through the door...too preoccupied to introduce himself. In fact, Hunter had barely even said hello before returning to the threesome already in progress. But Jeff didn't mind the lack of formalities or introductions. He wouldn't have heard them anyway.
His mind was overtaken by one thing and one thing only: the image of Elliot's tongue lapping at the massive, pulsing knot of this unfamiliar German shepherd. He watched in silence as Donald lounged nude in a recliner, with a fully clothed Elliot on all fours before him, like a feral mutt. The husky whimpered and moaned loudly enough to be heard across the room, as he rooted around in the larger canine's groin. He sniffed and shivered. He lapped at Donald's heavy sack. He trailed his tongue all along the shepherd's veiny, swollen knot. And then he took the shaft into his mouth.
Jeffery wondered how Elliot felt about the three new pairs of eyes upon him. Why hadn't he paused? Was that a blush showing through the white of his fur? Was he embarrassed to be seen like this? Or did he enjoy it? And the cat would have wondered, too, exactly how Hunter felt, watching his boyfriend shamelessly service another male. He would have...if Hunter hadn't answered the question for him.
"Good puppy. Suck that cock," the tiger praised his lover as he drew close to his side. "Show Donald how well I've trained you."
Elliot's blush deepened, but he simply closed his eyes and bobbed his head on that marbled rod quicker and quicker. He didn't just enjoy this. No, he loved it! And Jeff could feel his own barbed prick straining against his underwear as he watched. He could feel his pre soaking through the bright blue briefs he'd chosen specifically for tonight, as Hunter knelt beside the husky. The tiger was already in his boxers before the others had arrived, and with one paw he hefted out his drooling, barbed shaft...while the other jerked down the back of Elliot's pants and exposed his black and white furred rump.
"Hey!" Donald protested from the recliner, "What're ya' doin'? I thought I was the one gettin' the pup's tail, tonight!"
"You are, you are," Hunter assured him. "But I don't want you to hurt him. I've gotta' loosen him up a bit, if he's gonna' take that monster knot of yours. Right?"
A cough startled Jeffery from his trance.
The sound, sharp and deliberate, finally pulled his eyes away from that 'monster knot,' and he turned to the couch behind him. There, Mic sat, smiling an almost mocking smile...but it wasn't Mic that caught his attention. It was Viri, and the bright blush shining through his cheekfur...as he sat in the hyena's lap.
Mic, the source of the sharp little cough hugged the folf close, and arched an eyebrow, as he reminded Jeff: "You're not just here to watch, you know. You can join in."
The little cat just shook his head, though, "I-I wouldn't wanna' interrupt them..."
"Well, what about us?" Mic's teeth shown through his grin, as a paw lit on Vir's noticeable bulge. And Jeffery watched that paw stroke back and forth, as Mic went on: "We ain't even gotten started yet, kitten. Nothin' to interrupt, yet."
Jeff wasn't one to argue. After all: this was why he was here! That didn't stop it from being awkward of course. It was all just so unfamiliar. Before today, he'd only met Elliot and Hunter, and here he was being called to join this hyena and his folf on the couch? He could feel his own blush building behind his thankfully dark fur, but he timidly accepted the invitation, nonetheless. And both pairs of eyes, one pair hungry and the other even more nervous than his own, watched him every inch of the way.
"So..." Mic continued as Jeff settled beside him, "I'm told you're into knots, right? That's why you couldn't take your eyes offa' Donald, there?"
Jeffery just nodded in silence.
"Well, I know Elliot's and Donald's are busy right now, but..." Mic gripped Vir's crotch so firmly, the little folf jumped, "Viri here's got a knot too. Would you like to see?"
Immediate, nearly frantic, he cat nodded. But he paused when he realized it might be better to ask Vir, himself. After all: it was his knot they were talking about. So with a smile, he looked the shivering folf in the eye: "May I?"
Viri nodded in silence, just like Jeff had. And on that cue, Mic unzipped the boy's jeans. Bright red cotton, tented and shining with pre, rose tall from between the folds of denim. Briefs. Bright red briefs. Jeffery wondered if his new friend had put as much thought into this selection as he had...
...and he watched as Mic's spotted paw stroked the bulging cotton. Watched his fingers circle the soaked tip. Watched it leak through the fabric. Watched the folf it belonged to tense and shake. And watched the hyena's paw slip aside, sticky fingers to his lips.
And now, it was Jeff's turn. He wasted no time with teasing though...with gentle cotton caresses. What he wanted lied beneath. And he gripped the white waistband of those straining briefs, lifted, and pulled it down beneath the folf's snow white balls.
And there it was.
It wasn't the size of Scott's. Or of Elliot's. And definitely not of Donald's. But there it was, nonetheless, less two feet from the kitten's drooling muzzle: a brand new knotted cock...just for him. He licked his lips. He sniffed the air as the scent rose up...
...and he smiled gently at the folf, before leaning in to claim his prize.
"Don't worry. I just need to taste."
Smooth, rigid flesh. The hardest he'd felt. It slid between his lips and to the back of his tongue. He closed his eyes and let himself go. He let the scent and the taste take him away. He marveled at how similar, and how different it was from Scott. Vulpines definitely had a taste to them. But this one was so much sweeter; so much younger. No musk of age. No sting of sweat. Just the warm scent of a horny teenager's groin, and the pure taste of his adolescent pre.
He'd lost himself so much in the taste and the scent, that he didn't even realize he'd begun to bob, until he felt the tapered tip jap him in the throat. And only then did he hear the moans -- his own and Vir's -- or feel the small, gentle paws in his head fur.
The knot bumped his nose again and again. And he wished it was Donald's. Someone bigger...someone more dominant...who could really show him what that knot was for. He realized, in that instant, how much he wanted to be fucked and tied. How much he wanted all of his new friends to hear him beg for it.
But the night was young. He'd get there, eventually. And this was the perfect place to start.
All at once, though, the dick fell from his mouth, and he and the folf were suddenly jolted and shifted about...as Mic moved Viri from his lap and stood up from the couch. Jeffery turned and watched, and saw Vir do the same. Neither of them really wanted to stop, but certainly Mic had risen for a reason...
"Mind if I make a request?"
"R-rrequesht?" Viri asked, the first time he'd managed to speak. since they stepped through the door.
"Yeah, uhm..." the hyena seemed almost embarrassed to ask, "See? Sometimes I like to watch...especially cute, shy little things like you? And, you know...most of my friends are bigger guys. So I don't get the opportunity all that often."
Jeff just blinked, the taste of folf still on his lips, "You...want a show, then?"
"Oh, I really do..." Mic smiled a wide, hopeful smile, "If you boys don't mind the attention."
Vir tucked his chin, and his blush flooded his cheeks, yet again...
...but Jeffery simply asked: "What do you wanna' see?"
"Hmm..." Mic considered the question, though Jeff assumed it was all an act. Surely, he knew the answer before he ever stood up. And with narrowed eyes, the hyena tuned to look right at Viri. "Sixty-nine?"
And the kitten turned to look at the folf, as well. Jeffery, at least, wanted it. He wanted his new hyena friend to watch him suck that knotted dick. He wanted Mic to hear him moan and watch him writhe on the couch as Vir's muzzle went to work on his own barbed thorn, as well. He wanted to know that he was being lusted after, and that his shameless thirst for a knot was turning someone else on.
But what about Viri? What did he want?
His blush had grown so noticeable that his cheek fur barely seemed white anymore. His chin was pressed against his chest. His eyes were cast aside, away from both the hyena and the cat. And his paws wrung nervously in his lap...
...but those paws did not hide his still hard, still dripping, still twitching shaft...and his muzzle was split by an undeniable smile.
A spotted paw took the folf's arm, and he did not protest. He was tugged, and he rose to his feet. Jeffery watched as Mic drew the other boy close to his chest. He watched as the hyena licked the folf's ear, and gripped him tight. He heard the buzz of a muted whisper. And he saw Vir shiver...and melt...
...and nod.
There it was. A yes. Jeff, without a moment's hesitation, shifted himself in preparation for the impending exhibition. He laid himself out along the couch, and eagerly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, before pulling himself free of his tight, blue briefs. And he looked on as Mic readied Viri as well: pulling down the boy's pants and underwear and exposing his white fur from the waist down...before pushing him gently to the couch, and to the waiting cat.
True to form, the folf was timid. He glanced back at Mic, in uncertainty, and he moved slowly and uneasily as he crawled onto the couch. But, caution aside, he climbed atop the cat. He mounted his new friend's face.
And Jeffery, of course, was far from shy. The moment that knotted cock slid into position, hanging there before his muzzle, he sucked it greedily into his lips. He could have admired the tiny, shimmering drop of pre at its tip, seconds from dripping onto his face. He could have appreciated the novel view, on his back with the folf's genitals on display only inches above his nose. But he'd seen it before with Scott, more times than he could count. And unlike Mic, he wasn't here to look.
The smooth, rigid flesh slid along his tongue once again, and the folf above him whimpered and shook. Jeff reached up, grabbing his friend by the ass and the small of his back, and pulled him down, driving him deeper still into his hungry maw. He wondered, on such tender, near-virgin skin, what his rough tongue must have felt like. He wondered if the folf's instincts would take hold: if he would begin to thrust, and if it were possible to knot and tie with someone's muzzle. And as he felt the heat of Viri's breath washing over his groin...he wondered if the other boy would ever start to suck him, as well.
"Go on, Vir," Mic, as if reading Jeff's mind, gently directed the folf: "return the favor."
Which of course, he did.
It was everything Jeffery had imagined and more. The smell of sex filled the room: the scent of six drooling teenage cocks; of sweat, and musk, and pheromones; and of a husky's violated young ass. He could hear the whines and the moans from across the room. He could hear Elliot whimpering and begging, Donald grunting and cursing under his breath, and Hunter murmuring his breathless pleas and praise. And all the while, with every thump of Viri's heartbeat, more and more pre jetted out onto his tongue.
The folf had barely begun his nursing, barely begun suckling and exploring the kitten's barbed prick...but already Jeff felt on the edge of exploding. It was all too much. The scene he could only hear, feet away...the eyes of the hyena upon him...the flavor of folf dick coating the inside of his muzzle. He was close. He didn't know how long Vir had, but he knew that he, himself, only had moments left before he erupted in his new friend's mouth.
And then the couch shifted.
A weight bore down upon it. It creaked. It sunk. And Jeffery opened his eyes to see a huge spotted shaft poking the back of Viri's balls. It was Mic. He'd grown tired of watching, and now Jeff had a front row seat, mere inches away...
...as that big, spotted rod slid up from the back of Vir's tightened, snow-white sack, and rooted itself under his tail. He watched as it pressed forward, slowly at first, until it popped past the folf's ring and sank deep inside.
Jeffery heard a sharp cry -- something of a yelp and a moan at the same time -- ring out from the folf's muzzle at his groin. But that muzzle never stopped its hungry suckling, and as Mic's dick withdrew only to thrust itself in again, Viri burst! In an instant, he swelled up in the cat's maw, and unleased a surge that splashed against the back of his throat and filled his mouth.
He marveled at how similar, and how different it was from Scott. Vulpines definitely had a taste, but this one was so sweet. So young. So pure. It was more than the kitten could take. And as he swallowed it down...as he sucked with all his might to draw loose every last drop...
...he, too, exploded, deep within the folf's mouth.
He fell limp. He let the knotted cock slip from his lips. And he simply shivered as his own streams filled the happy, white muzzle buried in his crotch. Above him, Mic went on riding the folf's ass. Every thrust caused Vir's still hard cock to slap against the kitten's face.
And with a sigh, Jeff turned his head, bleary eyes focusing in on the other side of the room.
There, Elliot was still on all fours, just as he had been when Jeffery arrived. But his clothes were cast aside, and there was a fresh white stain on the floor beneath him. And Donald, now, was knelt behind -- hips motionless and tense. He was knotted and tied: stuck fast to the little husky beneath him. And before them both, it was now Hunter lounging nude in the recliner...while the two canines serviced him. Elliot licked and nuzzled his heavy sack, and Donald's muzzle slid up and down his barbed shaft.
The tiger's already piercing moans grew to a roar, and Donald pulled away from his dick, as if that roar were a cue. Roughly, Hunter grabbed Elliot by his headfur and lifted his wet, matted face, as his free paw took hold of his barbed dick for a few short, desperate strokes.
Jeffery looked on. And as Viri was fucked above him...as the folf's dick slapped against his cheek again and again...he watched Hunter coat the husky's face with his seed.
But the night was still young. And this had been the perfect place to start...
~
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/ *
Thus begins Sibirskaia: "Casualties of War."
I hope you enjoyed the nice distraction there at the end: finally a bit of a pay off for the open relationship, the introduction of Donald, Jeffery getting his cell phone, and Mic's friendship with Viri. I've been teasing an event like this for a while! I hope you enjoyed it. Of course, it didn't happen in isolation, did it? No, the drama of the rest of their lives still swirls about. Case in point at the moment: Stan and Scott. What exactly is Scott so scared to tell Jeffery? And what is Stanley up to? Did he have a plan in mind when he went to speak to Castagnoli? And why was he so interested in the news story about James?
Find out next time, in Sibirskaia chapter 24, or "Casualties of War" part 2.
Anyway, thanks for reading! I welcome any feedback. Comment or PM me here, add me on skype, or email me at theottercoon[at]gmail.com
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See you around for the final 7 chapters of Sibirskaia!