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Foundations, Chapter 6

By Kenneth Beltan

Blake, Quentin, and Nieve are all copyrighted and are owned by Nievelion. I have had permission to use them for this story. All other characters are mine.

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6

November had turned into December. Christmas was quickly approaching, with more decorations, more anticipation, bad weather, and ubiquitous Christmas pop on the radio. Quentin absolutely hated contemporary Christmas music, and Blake had to agree, finding the majority of it sappy and irritating. "Why do they have to have some broad caterwauling these songs every year?" he had asked at the grocery store a few days ago. "Do people really like this?" It had had the desired effect in making Quentin laugh heartily. He really enjoyed his son's choice of words, as they were rather like what Jennifer would have used. "Seriously, do they just strap the woman to a chair in the recording booth and stamp on her foot five minutes?" the young Amur continued. Quentin was now hunched over the cart, trying to contain his laughter somewhat so that he would not create a scene. It was painful work, and he begged his son to stop. School had also finally let out, and it was giving both father and son ample time together. Since that night in late November, they had certainly started loosening up around each other. Nudity became much more common in the home. Being both thick-furred tigers, they could take the cold well. It also helped that the building had been totally renovated before they moved in with high-quality windows, doors and insulation. Blake hardly ever bothered to wear much anymore. Sometime he was just in his underwear, always trying to plumped to make a better bulge. Other times, he just lazed about totally nude, passively allowing himself to be seen in hopes of catching his father's eye. He particularly liked laying in front of the fire so that he could most directly take the warmth of it. He had even convinced his father to join him there as the temperatures plummeted. They played a lot of games together like parcheesi, chess, go, Key to the Kingdom, Settlers of Catan, various types of card games, and of course Clue. Sometimes they just napped there, each hoping to wake up before the other so they could stare and get an eyeful of cock. Other times they played video games together, watched movies, or just sat and read. There was always plenty of food, and they were coming up with increasingly ridiculous reason to not venture outside into the cold and snow, never mind to having to put on clothes. It had become a kind of game with each one coming up with crazy but humorous reasons to stay undressed. Since the day Quentin had accidentally walked in on his son masturbating in his closet, Blake had come up with the ingenious idea that treat his father again by taking regular naps. He always woke up with an erection in the mornings, and he knew it also sometimes happened when napped. It got around his fear of consciously getting one for his father and making a problem. After all, he could help it if he got a boner while sleeping, but he made no attempts to conceal himself before drifting off either. He was sure that his father had to be noticing them, and he had a few times so far faked sleep to elicit a reaction. Quentin had indeed stuck around, letting off that wonderful musk and soon padding off quietly to some other part of the flat. For his part, Quentin wished that he could be so "careless" as his son, but as an adult, he definitely knew better, and such an lack of discretion was out of character for him anyway. He was a lot more likely to lounge around in his underwear or just his robe (which he frequently neglected to tie closed, interestingly enough). He knew that wanted to to be a bit bolder and give his son something more to see than just a bulge or a flaccid cock, but he still lacked the nerve. Blake had been acting nonchalant about his own nudity, but Quentin could see no other reason why else the young Amur would flaunt his body so much but to get his father's attention. Even Blake's daily aerobics and weight lifting were done in the buff, as if he were an ancient competitor for the Olympic games. He also made sure his tackle would swing, moving his body optimally for the effect. He also insisted that his father join in to keep in shape. Quentin had always joined in at least half the time, eager to maintain his own impressive physique, but now his son nagged and cajoled every morning for his company. Sometimes Quentin felt as though he could have kicked himself for expressing his desire for them to spend more time together. He no longer had any doubt that his son was horny for him. Blake was literally waiting for his father to respond, and Quentin could not help but think his son knew how willing he truly was. All of this certainly had to be an effort to bring it about, at least partly. Nevertheless they were actually enjoying themselves. It had created a new reason to simply spend time together, as they had been growing distant bit by bit over the last few years. Quentin had expected this to a certain degree simply because it was the nature of teenagers to pull away from their parents. He was therefore quite happy for this reversal. In their fun, they had even managed occasionally to forget about seducing each other or giving a good show and simply relished their games and other diversions. Quentin was also happy that Blake seemed to mind much less the two of them cuddling together by the fire (Quentin had made sure to time it when they were both at least in their underwear, still too chicken to do anything more bold). With or without a blanket, they kept each other warmer, and Quentin got to indulge his instincts for parent affection and lick Blake's ears again and again until the young tiger fell asleep. That closeness, however innocent it was, still inevitably resulted in more lustful thoughts these days, thoughts that were so very hard to contain. They could only excuse themselves so many times without it looking too obvious, especially for Quentin. In fact, it was taking all of his self-control to maintain composure, while Blake was far less discreet. He did not mind coming back smelling musky, and since Quentin was so willing to act as if he did not notice, his son was taking advantage of it as much as possible. It had been only a few days before Christmas when Quentin finally broke. He had seen Blake erect three separate times in a single day. The first time had been in his dresser mirror in the morning as the teenager walked to the bathroom, his paw held under the dripping tip of his member to catch the last bits of cum from his morning masturbation session. It was a sight Quentin had been treated to often by now, and he looked forward to it every morning. About twenty minutes later had come the second time, this one more of a surprise. Quentin was walking down the hall when he passed Blake's door and saw the Amur hard again. Blake was standing in his room, fighting with a shirt that was tangled over his head, preventing it from poking through. The young tiger could not see his father and was too distracted with his task and swearing to himself to notice that he was being watched. Quentin quickly moved on before he was noticed, stifling a chuckle behind a wide grin. The third time, however, had most definitely proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back. They had gone out shopping that day to get some last minute things for Christmas, as there were excellent deals to be had everywhere. Quentin also pointed out that they had been spending far too much time indoors anyway, and for once Blake was inclined to agree, eager to get outside and move about. The subways had been more crowded than usual, and while their trip to the City was a brief one, they still had to stand packed together. The short trip seemed much longer to Quentin because Blake was strap-hanging with his whole body up against his father's side, his groin pressed pointedly into the older Amur's hip. It seemed so innocuous, as if there was no helping it, as the train was quite full, yet Blake still could have done a bit more to be modest. Instead, his cock was bunched up in his underwear for maximum bulge, and Quentin had not only felt it on him, he was also feeling it slowly uncoil as it hardened. It was the boldest move Blake had thus far made, yet never once did he take his eyes away from his paperback, acting as if he was totally unaware of anything amiss. Quentin admonished himself for continuing to believe that Blake might not want reciprocation of these advances. It was so painfully obvious by this point, and Blake surely was aware that his father had not missed anything. He was a cat, after all, and cats were masters at reading innuendo. He wished that he had whacked off that morning when he awoke early instead of enjoying a cup of tea by himself. "Dad?" Blake asked, suddenly breaking his father's thought. "Hmm?" The Amur father looked down at his son. "Yes, Blake?" "What is the precise meaning of the word 'semantics?'" he asked. "It is the branch of linguistics and logic concerned with meaning," Quentin answered, looking somewhat bemused. That was an uncommon question from the teenage tiger. "I bet is has many complimentary subfields, doesn't it?" Blake asked in that tone that he got when faced with the tiresome minutiae of academia. "Naturally. Fields like etymology, lexicology, pragmatics and syntax." "Behind it must surely lay epistemology, right?" Blake rolled his eyes, sounding more blasé. "That underlies everything, my son. You are correct." "I hate words sometimes. You think you make your meaning plain and explicit, and yet people sometimes won't take it at face value. People's capacity for self-delusion is incredible," the young tiger mused, bringing his book back up to continue reading. Quentin glanced at the cover of the book. It was a Sherlock Holmes mystery. That better explained why his son had such an unusual question. It had been strangely pertinent for their own situation, though. He wondered how impatient Blake was becoming with him and his own capacity for self-delusion. He was certainly impatient with himself. He had to give his son a lot of credit for keeping such a cool during the whole thing, as teenagers, even feline teenagers, were not known for being masters of patience. Shopping had only partially managed to help Quentin forget the nagging desires in him. Some moments were easy, such as when they went separate ways to get each other gifts, but other times events seemed to contrive to bring them together. At one point, they had gone to a clothing store because Blake was in need of new underwear. He was outgrowing his old pairs, and they were so stretched now that they did not give him much support. Whenever Blake walked around home in his briefs, the pouch would hang so low that it was easy for his balls to be seen, especially if he put his leg up when stretching lis calf muscle. They really could not hold them properly anymore, and sometimes his cock fell out as well. He deliberately tried to make this happen on several occasions, of course, masterfully making it look like an accident. This was even more amusing because he generally preferred boxers to briefs these days but had lately been choosing undergarments to flaunt his manhood. It was an image Quentin had been fantastically unsuccessful at purging from his mind. He had always enjoyed looking at men bulging their underwear, and he like to imagine what kind of cocks made them. He regularly did it while riding the subway, walking the sidewalks, in the shops, even the restaurant where they were eating in the department store on Fifth Avenue. He knew that he should have been trying to focus his mind on unsexy thoughts, as all this fantasizing was doing him no real good. It was distracting him to the point that Blake was getting tired of shaking his father out of his trances every time he wanted to talk. For all his apparent irritation, however, there was a twinkle in the young Amur's eyes that never left, telling Quentin that the little brat was enjoying his father's plight. After they had finished eating, Quentin excused himself and headed for the gents'. He waited for a urinal to free up and strode up, sighing to himself. As he reached down to unzip his trousers, the urinal on his left also vacated and was promptly reoccupied by none other than his own bulky son. Quentin only really noticed when his Blake's scent caught his nose. He happened to look over in mild surprise and received a sort of offhanded smiled from Blake, who then just looked forward, his eyes unfocused as he did what he needed to do. Unable to resists, Quentin's eyes shot downwards to spy. He had always preferred urinals without privacy divisions as it made it so easy, especially for someone as tall as he was, to get a good look at what other men were sporting. He had been doing it as long as he could remember. Instead of seeing his son merely urinating, however, he also beheld het another massive erection. Not only was he surprise that Blake could pee hard and with such control, but that the young Amur was standing back just far enough from the urinal to be easily seen. Quentin wanted to tell him to move forward a bit more before someone else came in. He had only been starring for a few seconds before his gaze snapped quickly back to his own sex, realizing that it already beginning to fill. He pushed the rest of his bladder out quickly before he got hard and could no longer pee. All the while he was focused on himself, his son was glancing sideways and grinning, very glad that his peripheral vision was so good and dreading the day he might need glasses. After finishing shaking off, Quentin managed to stuff his substantial member back into his underwear and trousers, zip up, and go away to the sink to wash up, his mind all inflamed and aroused. His son was driving him crazy and not in the way a father normally expected a teenaged son to do. Quentin went to wait near the entrance of the restaurant for his son, sighing to himself and taking off his specs to rub at his temples. He pulled our a handkerchief to clean his lenses when another familiar scent entered his olfactory passage and made him look up at a familiar, handsome bespectacled face. "Well, hello, Quentin. It's good to see you," his friend Nieve said, a large paw coming to rest on the tiger's shoulder and pull him gently into a big embrace. "Nieve!" Quentin answered jovially, only barely managing not to say "Oh, shit!" first. He gratefully hugged the lion and then started to regret it once he felt the front of his body press into Nieve's. His cock was still around a third inflated, and the lion was sure to have felt it. In fact, the grin he got was proof of it. "Merry Christmas, indeed!" the lion rumbled, glancing down at Quentin instinctively drew his long coat over himself so no one else might see. "I see you are out, too. Have you already eaten? Edward and I were just looking for a place to dine." Quentin thanked God that he and Blake had already had a good meal (and ignoring the fact that Blake could probably eat a second lunch easily). He did not think that he could stand a meal with three incredibly attractive men in his current state, especially with one of them being Nieve. "Hello, Quentin," came Edward's quiet, warm voice that was surprisingly like a purr. The towering fox also embraced Quentin, as well as giving him a quick, discreet grope between his legs. "How are you today, Quint?" How the hell do you two think I am? Quentin thought irritably even while he felt great affection for them both. He knew they were playing with him a bit, especially the Edward. Foxes were such incredible flirts, and Edward was the best Quentin had ever met. The tiger thought more than ever that he was going slowly crazy. "Quite well. Blake and I have been doing some last minute shopping and just had a bite." Quentin made a point to repeat himself about their having finished a meal so no further invites could be made. As preemptive as he was trying to be, the look on Edward's handsome face told Quentin that he was not being so clever at all. It was a placid, friendly look, but there was a certain focused gaze in it that bespoke of plans for further flirtation whose foundations were much more subtly and substantially laid than Quentin realized. Never had Quentin realized just how dangerous foxes truly were. "Okay, Dad, I'm ready," came Blake's voice as he rounded the corner and stopped, smiling. "Hello, Professor Urquhart, Mr. Urquhart." He nodded to both Nieve and Edward in turn. "Hello, son!" Nieve answered jovially, taking the boy in his arms and hugging him tightly, nuzzling his ears. "It's good to see you, too." Edward also gave the young tiger a burly embrace. "I wish you would remember to call us by our names, Blake. You're old enough now, and we know each other well enough, that you needn't be so formal," Nieve continued, smiling fondly at the young Amur. "We are as family after all." "Sorry. Force of habit," Blake answered, blushing slightly. He had been raised in strict protocol by both his parents, and the Southern part of him especially clung to those niceties. In private he was better about it, but in public he always seemed to revert to formality. "Still, at least I remember my manners. It's a lot more than can be said of most kids these days." Nieve shook his head and laughed. "I can't argue with that, son. Some still have it, though. I know a young man that refuses to address me any other way than 'sir' or 'Professor,' even though I've known him for years. It took forever just to get him to join me for a sandwich in the café across from the library. He's a very formal, reserved person." "Who's this relic from the past?" Blake asked. "Be nice, Blake." Nieve gave the Amur a rub behind his hears. "He's a proper, budding renaissance man and musician who, bless him, loves everything British." He looked up at Quentin with chuckling grin. "If you can believe it, he was born from Indian immigrants on the Lower East Side back in the bad days of the '70s." "My, that is a far way to come!" Quentin was not sure how flattered to feel considering the history between Britain and her former territory of India. Something familiar was suddenly nagging at the back of his mind about an Indian musician. It was quickly interrupted as he felt a sly vulpine paw come to rest gently on his ass. "You look taller, Blake," Edward said, turning his bespectacled gaze to the young Amur. "You sticking with that exercise regimen all right?" "Yes, I am. Dad still joins me a lot of the time, too." He looked proudly at his father. "I can tell." He was now giving one of Quentin's gluts a firm squeeze in his enormous and surprisingly strong paw. "You should drag your father upstairs. There's a new bodybuilding shop that's just opened, and they have some really splendid equipment. We were thinking of taking a look, weren't we, Nieve?" He flashed a smile that had just a hint of conspiracy in it towards his husband who was more than willing to play along. "Quite. What do you say, Blake? Care to join?" "Definitely!" Blake loved that sort of thing just as his father had all those years ago. "What say you, Quentin? I hope we can persuade you," Edward purred, his fist now firmly coiled around Quentin's tail base, a spot that he knew was an erogenous zone for the big Amur. The big cat caved in too easily. "Oh, why not?" The four of them were a sight to behold entering the store with Blake being so young but clearly interested and already halfway to a grand prize with a body like his. What other buffed customers and the proprietors did not expect were the displays of strength from the two cats and the fox. Charles had easily lifted with one paw a barbell that should have required two paws and a lot of strength. Nieve was looking at some circular weights for a bench press on a shelf and easily slid eighty pounds of the weights off and into an open palm without even a flinch. Even Quentin was idly pulling a handle attached to a stack of weights that apparently had only been meant for display, as the hook through which the cable was threaded was only rated safely for 100 pounds. Quentin was effortlessly pulling 200. The manager had also not been pleased when Edward and Blake stood on either side of a dumbbell on a bench with 500 pounds of weights on it and lifted it for fun. "Oh, it isn't so heavy as that," Edward had said dismissively and then proceeded to pick up the whole thing by himself without struggling. "See? Blake, hang by the center would you? I'd like a challenge." Before the rhino owner could protest, the cocky young Amur did as he was told and simply hung his body from bar behind the fox, also enjoying being so physically close to such a strong man. Edward now looked like he was actually working to keep it all up, but he was certainly not struggling under it. He just breathed steadily and grinned at the gawkers all around him. "See?" came the fox's northern English drawl. Before pulling this stunt, he had removed his sweater and was only left in a thin tank top so that his buff torso was on display. His muscled stood out gloriously under his perfect coat, his pectorals pushing out his undershirt whose hem was now a few inches above his waist, revealing a solid abdomen with a thick, dark brown treasure trail running down enticingly to his groin. He gave a pointed grin at Quentin, whose lustful gaze and open mouth were exactly the reaction he was going for. "All right, Blake, let go, before the proprietor has a heart attack." Blake let go and quietly landed. Edward then effortlessly set the barbell back on the rack and dusted his paws casually. He made a fist and flexed an arm for Blake, grinning. "Work hard, son, and you'll like me." Blake just had to feel the muscle. He was very impressed with what he saw and felt. He had always known Edward was a powerful man, but never had any clue just how much sheer strength the fox actually possessed. In fact, he did not know that a fox could be that strong. He made a mental note to never underestimate one ever again for any reason. Even Quentin had to come over and feel an arm. He was struggling to keep himself under control all the while, wanting nothing better than to indulge himself in that wonderful body. It had been a while since he had been in a threesome with Edward and Nieve. Nieve suddenly cleared his throat haughtily, drawing everyone's attention to him as he flexed his torso, having only taken off his jacket. His muscles were certainly big enough, especially when flexed, to show through his dress shirt and tie. "Perhaps he might like to look more like me," he continued airily. "I think, as a cat, I might be a better model than you, Edward. No offense, of course." Edward narrowed his eyes a bit at his beloved, which only made Nieve cheekier. He tensed even more, straining body against the confines of his shirt and growling low. Suddenly a tearing sound was heard, and the back of his shirt suddenly felt much roomier. His eyes popped wide open, and he quickly reached behind to feel his shirt, finding a very large hole. "Oh, shit," he said simply, his ears flattening against his skull. Edward was the first to point and start laughing, followed by Quentin and his son. Nieve himself joined in, finding the accident extremely amusing as well. "I only just bought this, too. Oh well..." Bold as brass, the lion just tore the rest of the shirt off his amazing body and reached for his shopping bag to take out a new one. His three companions just watched appreciatively as Nieve made a delightful distraction of himself. Meanwhile, Edward's tail was patting Quentin's rear and occasionally sliding up the inside of his leg. By now, Quentin had buttoned his coat back up to protect his modesty. He was hard as a rock. "You could lift a barbell with that," Edward muttered to Quentin as he reached down and gave the member a quick but first grip, making the tiger bite his lip. "I'm going mad. How do you keep such a cool?" He whispered back, feeling desperate for advice. "Magic," the fox replied as his warm paw left the tiger cock. He grinned and padded away, once more leaving a very horny and frustrated tiger in his wake. Once Nieve was properly dressed again, they all decided to leave before the impressed but also increasingly worried management passed out from worry. Walking along the wide corridor past various shops, the topic of Christmas came up. "Would you two like to join us once more this year?" Nieve offered warmly. "Or would you prefer it be at your home this year?" Quentin struggled to keep his mind clear enough to make conversation. "We would love to have you come to our home this year, I think. You have been so kind to host us two in a row," he answered with equal affection, putting an arm around the big lion. "That would be wonderful. What would you like us to bring, Quentin?" The big tiger looked over at the fox who had been teasing him ever since they met up today. Edward's tail and paw were still finding ways to touch his ass. "You'll make some wonderful dessert, won't you? Nobody makes confections like you do, Edward." "I would be very happy to oblige, but I should like to use your kitchen if I may," the fox replied. "Naturally. Only the freshest ingredients and preparations will do." "Quite so." Edward agreed. "No aphrodisiacs this time," Nieve muttered in some language Quentin could not recognize no matter how much he tried. The lion giving his husband a pointed glare that brooked no argument. He was quite aware that matters were still not settled between Quentin and his son yet, and he was not going to directly intervene in them...at least not too much. "And get your paw off his ass." Not showing the slightest bit of intimidation, the fox lifted his nose and answered casually, "Yes, dear. Whatever you wish." Quentin had no idea what they were saying, and their looks were not enough to tell him much other than it was a spousal understanding, especially when Edward's paw left his rear end. Its absence, however, did not change how horny he was. If anything, it only made it worse. "When would you like us to arrive, Quentin?" Nieve continued. "Anytime between one and two in the afternoon. The same goes for Boxing Day. Thank you for joining us." "Family should be together on Christmas," the lion answered with a smile and nuzzled the tiger lovingly and with great affection.