Socially Awkward.
Socially Awkward
Just a Night in with the Guys By Roofles
It was later than any of us had planned and yet here we still all were, at the table playing cards. The beer bottles had to be taken away so a new round could be brought in. Lars was cool enough to let us crash at his place in the sub basement. That's right, sub basement.
Lars was a large beaver and an old high school friend of mine. He liked to live in a burrow, the top part of his house just for show while the basement and sub basement was where anything actually happened. He had a fetish, I swear, for wood carvings and the whole sub basement looked like a hunting lodge.
The couch had wooden arm rests, the cushions were made of some faux leather but looked and felt just like the real thing. There were deer horns on the wall, donated for "Art" by a local artist seeing as how he shed the things after mating season.
Lars was a carpenter, like his family before him, and had constructed a fire place in the corner with a nice stone finish hearth in front of it. There were more cushioned chairs set up nearby, facing a very large screen tv we had watched the game on. The floor was a polished wood with several decorative rugs spread out over it so our claws didn't scuff it. Even the stairs leading down here was just a bunch of wooden logs placed and cut properly.
I was behind the bar in the corner, making up some more drinks for me and the guys. I wasn't the best at it but like many of my jobs, I got the job done. I'm just a humble hyena, a jack of all trades that knows practically everything one needs to know but not mastering in anything.
Not like these guys were expecting anything more than a cold brooski. I placed the drinks down on a tray and held a single hand underneath to carry them over to the table. It was a nice thing, a gift from all of us after Lars whore of a wife left him for the gardener.
The game table fit in perfectly down here and it looked like Lars took inspiration from it and just built outwards to make this place so comfortable. This place was defiantly a man cave.
"Brooze up." I joked, carefully taking the martini glass and setting it down for Art, a rather handsome buck I can't lie. His horns were still coming in and the buck kept scratching at the velvet skin around them.
"Thanks." He grunted looking at his hand. I loved the guy but man he wasn't the brightest tool in the shed. I could practically hear the gears in his head turning as he tried to figure out if his hand was good, ok or a piece of shit.
"Another." I just said placing a tankard down in front of Donnie, a polar bear that made his own home brew. He brought a cask of the stuff over every now and then to make sure there was plenty stocked. Let me put it this way, I nor any of the guys actually drank the stuff. It was some of the strongest tasting booze I've ever had the misfortune of putting in my maw.
Donnie was a man of few words and I figure it was mostly due to this stuff. It kept him awake during the winter time but it didn't keep a level head on the big lug. He drank enough that he had to bring a fresh cask over every game night.
"And the classic." I added setting down a bloody Mary in front of Randal, a very large black rat.
Randal grunted, sliding a full stack of blue chips in and laid down his hand. "Read 'em and weep!" And then they did. It was a nice two pair of twos and fours. Art laid his hand down, cursing about losing the big jackpot.
And it was Lars to collect after laying down three eights. The beaver smugly, slowly took the pot over to his side of the table.
"Fucking prick." Randal grumbled, sitting back down and taking half of the bloody Mary down. I liked the guy, but not at first. Randal had the mouth of a sailor and a body of... well one too. Fat gut, muscular arms and apparently served in the navy go figure. I always thought he was sort of a dick but that was before Lars told me about his charity work.
Randal donated half, half of every paycheck to several different foundation. Spending nearly every Sunday at the soup kitchen after Mass. Never judge a book by it's cover, I guess.
"Then the dumb cunt," as I said before Randal wasn't the most friendly. "Tries to charge me for the extra portion! She was the dumb bitch who forgot what I ordered an then had the nerve to bring me that bill."
"Sounds about right." I just played along, taking my seat next to him. Ethan was on my right and rolled his eyes for me.
I liked Ethan. He was a chill Opossum that had some of the shitties life stories I've ever heard. Dude grew up in the slums, his mother ended up being a drug addict and child services took him and his brother away, separating the two. He hadn't seen him since. He only ended up at an overcrowded foster home where the "matron" as she liked to be called was, go figure, a drunken drug dealer and was, from the sounds of it, the cheapest bitch I've ever heard of. After being abandoned, like most the other kids, he ended up supporting himself while going to school full time and then had the misfortune of being audited by the IRS randomly, who then found out he had been neglecting his taxes due to being paid under the table. And that was just the tip of the iceburg of shit that was his life. Made me thankful for what little I had.
"So I heard you were let go?" Randal abruptly changed the subject, most likely making the connection of bitch waitress to bitch boss. "In a text message?" He bared his teeth, flexed his arms and was rather intimidating I can't lie.
"Yeah. She sent me a text after doing a Fourty hour shift." And I shrugged. "Said all this bullshit, lies and ignoring all the illegal shit she herself was doing."
"Want me to cut her breaks?" Randal asked, I thought he was joking at first.
"Nah, I hate the ho' but I don't want the family suffering cause of that."
"Man, I feel ya'." Lars butted in. "I want to snap my bosses neck every time that prick walks in the door. He had the gull to ask me to come over and do his deck for him! Pro bono! The fuck, just cause he bought his way through school and can't hammer a nail into a board, means I'd help that prick out."
Donnie grunted, putting down a flush ace high. Lucky bastard.
"Should really look into opening up your own place." Art jumped in, shuffling the deck neatly. He used to work for a casino apparently, I still didn't know what he did for a living these days. It seemed rude to ask, seeing how long we've known each other now. I've just been waiting for him to come out and say it. "Wouldn't have to deal with that shit."
"Trust me, I wish I could." Lars groaned.
"Could just do a portfolio of this place." I laughed, grinning from ear to ear. A force of habit really. Nature's a bitch. I laugh. I laugh a lot and it's loud and annoying. Think that's why my first boyfriend broke up with me actually.
The guys were cool and didn't seem to care much. We all just were who we were here and I truly appreciated that. It was like a tick for me, just something sets it off and there I go laughing my head off.
The upstairs door opened and slammed shut and we could all hear the heavy steps of Drew, our neighborhood grumpy Skunk. He was carrying several pizza's in his hands as he came into view.
"About time, fuck. I'm starving!" Randal shouted over at him, lighting up another cigar before getting up and heading over. "The fuck took ya' so long! Shit man, trying to kill me?" The rat said around the cigar in his muzzle.
"Fuck off. I got pulled over by the cops, again." The skunk just shouted back. One good thing about being in the sub basement. None of the neighbors could hear us. "Fucking prick holier than though dog," and we all winced as he said the D would. Well other than Randal. "Fucking canine can't even just I want to..." He rambled a bit.
Drew was a hot headed guy. He hated dogs, and any other species that had a good sense of smell. He was a skunk after all and the stigma of that had followed him throughout his whole life. Police tended, for whatever reason, to be canines. And this wasn't the first incident he had been pulled over. A police dog was trained to smell booze, drugs... whatever in order to catch criminals. Drew always apparently smelled like his butt was full of it.
Weed wasn't legal here yet and the cops just loved catching stoners and locking them up, because... well they have a hard on for it? I don't know.
"Do you have any Marijuana?" Drew said in a very convincing southern drawl, mocking the police dog who had most likely asked. "I smell Marijuana. Can't fool this nose. For fuck sake!" His stopped the accent at the end. "No one says Marijuana anymore. Fucking prick, butt sniffing, ball licking canine douchebag."
"They have to bring in or book or pull over so many people every month." Art said without thinking, looking at the new hand dealt to him.
"So it's ok for them to discriminate against me?" Drew said from the other side of the counter. The skunk might've been pissed as hell but he was kind of enough to get dishes out for all of us and was plating the pizza. Randal had already eaten two pieces before I even saw which kind Drew ordered.
"I-I never said that!" Art said, getting flustered and embarrassed over it. Art always meant well but sometimes you can't explain it with facts and logic. Specially when Drew was on a war path. The skunk had even advocated for a special circumstances in the "War against drugs." Hoping if he could do it legally, not that he did from my knowledge. He could rub that in their noses rather than their noses rubbing his butt.
I decided to defuse the situation before Art really got it from the skunk. "What you're not into that?" I started off with, and usually that was all we needed to go on.
"I like a man in uniform as much as the next guy," Drew clarified. "But they don't even give me a reach around! Duh fuck is that!" He practically shouted but was laughing now and had a large grin on his face.
"I'm a sucker for the police uniform myself." I admitted.
"Whore." Randal chuckled, sitting down next to me. He had a whole pizza for himself. As I said before, the rat was a fat bastard.
"Please," I gave him a wink though. "You couldn't afford me."
We talked about drinks, about the game and the season. We talked about work, life and the bitch that it was. But mostly, by the end of the night, we talked about one thing.
"Bare back." Donnie cut in abpuptly. He hadn't spoken for nearly half an hour and that's what he said. So of course I got off on it, giggling as if I just did a like of Prozac.
"I like doggie better." I said only for the joke to follow. "That way I don't have to look at them."
Randal got a kick out of that and slapped my knee, hard. "Whore." He said once more and I rolled my eyes. Whatever makes people laugh I say.
"I don't get that." Drew said. "You got to do so much work. I rather just lay back and let the twinky bastard do all the work."
"What if they're bad though?" Ethan offered in, glad to join the conversation. He was the youngest member of our group and didn't have much... insight into these things. I swore he learned more about the fucked upness of life here than he ever would on the streets.
"That's when you toss 'em out!" Randal said loudly and I laughed, again, at that.
"I don't know. Sometimes it's worth the effort to train them for future events." I gave a shrug.
"Nope." Art cut in, looking up at me. He looked at me a little too long and I ended up flushing, looking away at the end. I had a bit of a crush on the shirtless buck. "Doesn't matter if they're good or not. It's how you feel about them."
Randal snorted so hard at that I swear a bit of booze came out his nose, as he wiped the back of his arm against it the next second. "Dude, that's fuckin' gay." He laughed and we all had a good bit of fun at Art's cost.
The buck was a good guy. A simple man. Raised from a heavily Christian family in the south and showed his upbringing like he was now showing his hand.
"Sex and love having nothing in common." Lars was happy to jump in on. "Hell, I'd know." And we all shared a laugh, I made sure to keep an eye on the skunk to be sure he was ok. Drew was engaged or married. I wasn't sure which. Either way she ended up cheating on him with the gardener of all people and one long soap opera later they broke up or got a divorce. Once more, it changes on who you ask as Lars hated to talk about the nitty-gritty details of the affair.
"Take me for example." The beaver went on, chewing a bit on some sort of candy maple treat. "I was with that bitch for nearly Five years of my life and never once did I love her while we were doing it." And that got a laugh out of Randal, Lars and Donnie. The oldest members of our group.
"At least you were getting some." Drew teased, looking over at Randal.
The rat sat up a bit and glared at the skunk. "Watch it." He warned.
"Come on, it's true isn't it? In the navy for how long? And who knows what Carrel was doing that whole time. Get home and," Drew always did go a step too far and stopped mid sentence as Randal got it.
Randal didn't say anything and stormed off for the bathroom, I assumed.
"Good job." I ended up saying with a roll of my eyes.
"Uh..." Ethan added looking between us.
"Long distance doesn't work, kid." Drew just said taking another drink. "You both have to be a hundred percent committed on it. Both got to strive and work for it. And still, even after all that? The chances of it working? Slim. To. None." And the skunk shrugged.
"That's why Randal hates foxes." I said under my breath, looking over at where Randal had disappeared too. I gave a stretch. "Like anyone needs a reason to hate a fox though." I chuckled feeling a bit vindictive on the subject.
I lost an award in school to a fox. Because they wanted someone good looking to be in the newspaper column.
"Sluts and whores. Bitches and ho's!" Drew practically sang holding up rocker fingers in the air and sticking out his tongue. I never noticed that his tongue was pierced. "Still better than huskies." Drew added his own crude form of racism on the subject. I stayed off the subject, knowing Drew's past with the police and a certain husky that the skunk had to press charges against.
We continued playing cards until Randal got back.
The second he took a seat I jumped in before anything else could come up on the subject. "Favorite fetishes, go!" I said a bit too loudly.
Dead silence met my request. Then everyone laughed.
"Someone wants to get something off their chest!" Art laughed, scratching at his horns.
"Or out of his pants." Drew added slyly, giving me a crude winking smile.
"Whore." Randal was glad to jump in on.
"Please." I laughed, having to adjust my seating position a bit. Getting uncomfortable at the response. "I'm an open book-," I began.
"Whore." Randal said again.
"And I got nothing to hide." I added giving a good knuckle punch to the rat's arm. Randal didn't even flinch and it felt like I broke my middle finger. How was I suppose to drive now?
No one really jumped on board and I was worried things might get on another uncomfortable subject, so I took a different route.
"Ok, what's the weirdest fetish you've come across?"
"Puppy play." Drew said almost the second I finished. "Dude wanted to wear a collar and a leash and be," he shuddered noticably. "House trained." We all gagged a bit on that. "The fuck is with dogs."
"Speaking of dogs!" Art said, leaning forward a bit now glad to have something to contribute. "I was with this doe the other day," Drew groaned at that. He hated hearing about woman. "She wanted to be tied up."
"Oh no, not that." Randal rolled his eyes at the lame BDSM story. He was the king of bad BDSM stories.
"No, no I'm not finished!" Art said a little too excitedly, clearly just glad to have something to talk about on the subject. "She wanted to be dressed up like a cat. And then for me to put on a dog suit and fuck her." There was a moment of silence as he looked around the table. "And she already owned the suits!"
"Oh whoa! Ew," Drew shuddered. "The fuck."
"I know right!" Art said, still very enthusiastically.
"What's up with that! People wanting to pretend to be dogs and cats and shit." Ethan said, though I could tell he was just going along with us at this time.
"Society!" Randal said, stabbing a finger onto the table. He was clearly getting tipsy now. "They push it into our heads that the only good ones out there are dogs and cats. And the rest of us should just crawl into a hole and curse the fact we weren't born to be another inbred, mindless slave." Randal ranted for a bit. I forgot how anti-government, society, military and well anything he could be. Anything popular, he hated. He couldn't even be a hipster as apparently that was now a thing.
Art listened far too intently taking his words as if they came from the good book itself.
"I once walked in on somebody sniffing my laundry." Drew said out of the blue, most likely like myself trying to change the subject before Randal really got started.
"Why?" Ethan asked, the poor innocent youth.
"It was my gym bag!" Drew just shook his head. "Man you think I smell bad now," he joked but we all knew it wasn't something we ourselves were allowed to joke about. "Swore the dude was getting off on it! It was at the gym and I took off my stuff to take a shower." And he shuddered to finish his statement.
"Freaky." Ethan said.
"That's a good question, actually." I said thinking about it from what the opossum said. "Where does the line go from kinky to freaky?"
Drew scratched his chin, mulling that over.
"When she asks for you to take a dump on her chest." Donnie, of all people, was the first to answer. And a dead silence fell once more, and we all cracked up laughing after that one.
The night went on for some time like this.
One thing I liked about hanging out here. It was real. It was crass and blunt, dirty really but it was real. There was no sugar coating to things. We just said how we felt, none of us going too far on the subject either. We'd joke about politics one second, talking about sports the next and then spend an hour figuring out if reverse missionary was ok for Art when he got married. I did it mostly just to see the big buck blush.
After the poker was done, we did a few rounds of blackjack as Donnie said he'd have to retire. And promptly went over to the couch to fall asleep. Lars spent most the time after that cleaning and polishing things up, having taken an almost obsession on this man cave he had built by his own two hands after his marriage fell through.
Ethan and I kept talking for a bit but the kid ended up needing a ride home, don't get me wrong. He was twenty four but compared to the rest of us he was still a kid. One of us took the poor guy under his wing and ever since we sort of watched out for him. Randal ended up taking him.
Which left me and Art to crash in front of the tv. Some show was on and I hardly recall which one it was. Maybe it was a rerun of the news, could've been from all I remember. We were sitting on the floor next to the couch, for reasons why I can't remember. All I recall is that my face was right next to Donnie's crotch.
"I didn't make Randal made, did I?" Art asked, scratching at his horns.
"Nah, he's always like that." I waved it off. "We're all damaged," I chuckled a bit. "Everyone is. You did nothing wrong, bud." I just shrugged and rested back a bit, I recall my leg bumping against Art. He didn't pull away though as he rested back, using one hand to scratch at his horns still.
"Just figure I had something to talk about today." He frowned a bit.
"I had a good laugh about it." I assured him and he brightened up just a little bit at that. "We've all been there." I teased, poking his side. He giggled a bit.
"Well yeah, I just haven't done as many crazy things as you guys do." It took him a moment then both his ears perked up and looked at me as if he were staring into headlights. "Wait you have done that?"
"Something like that," I confessed and he smiled a bit more. I think he scooted closer then.'
"Did you uh... enjoy it?" He asked a bit timidly, his voice slightly scratchy as if his throat had gone dry.
"A bit of things, yeah." I just chuckled. "I've done things here and there and ups and downs, reverse, backwards." I stopped a bit, flushing a bit at how close he was now. I didn't like to brag about my experience, one reason why Randal called me a whore. I only ever did anything with people I was with but still.
"Ah, I just figured you'd understand." Art just chuckled a bit, looking down. He put a hand on my knee and I felt fifty degrees hotter. "You always did." He just repeated. "Never teasing me or anything. I just could always confide in you."
I moved closer, he did too. He initiated but I didn't stop the kiss, pressing a hand against his strong, muscular chest and running my dull claws through his thin but coarse fur. I held his shoulder and he grabbed my waist roughly pulling me closer. Our tongues met, dancing together in his then my muzzle. I could taste him. And it was good.
I wanted to push him back, to climb on top of him and straddle his hips. He beat me to the punch and I was on my back and Art was holding my wrists tightly now, sitting with both his knees against my hips, pinning me down. He forced himself on me. And I whined pitifully against him, helpless as he just grinded down against me.
Have you ever had a dream that was so good you never wanted to wake up from? Then you did? And you tried and tried again to go back to sleep? This was one of those nights. The front of my briefs were wet and I needed to jerk it hard or take a very long, ice cold shower.
I woke up with a hangover, horny as a rutting mule and trying not too hard to stare at Art sleeping on a good few feet away, shirtless with the front of his pants popped open and his blanket pulled down just below his hips. Ok, so maybe this was why Randal called me a whore as I did look and, making sure no one else was looking, took a picture on my phone.
I made sure to splash my face several times with cold water as I tried to think of not handsome half naked bucks in the other room. I couldn't help myself. He was just my type. The straight, Christian goodie goodie boy was my type. Just my luck. I had no interest in foxes or huskies, always hiking up their tails at the first provocation.
I was gay. I liked men. Men with nice amble bodies, strong muscle, a gut, big paws, strong legs, a sturdy frame and horns you could hold onto as you rode them like a milk maid in a rodeo... Not twinky little femboys that were all skin and bones that you were afraid of snapping in half the second you mounted them.
So I just took the town to calm down, took a leak to try and ease some tension out of me and just thought of what I'd do for dinner tonight. Some mundane task to get my mind out of the gutter. Still the thought of tying up the buck, hanging him up and climbing on for a little fun made it impossible for me to stick around. Wasn't about to paw one out here, I'm not an animal.
I gave Lars a bro hug goodbye, turning my groin to face away and quickly got my furry butt out of there. Funny, as the only thing I kept thinking about after that night was just how much I needed a drink.