FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It started with a phone call.

“Hello?”

“Carliiiii. You up?”

“No,” I deadpan on instinct. “I’m talking to you in my sleep.”

“Fuuuck. Okay. Hold on-”

...What?

“CARLI! WAKE UP! I NEED YOU!”

Fucking of course.

I yank the phone away from my ear, staring daggers at the speakers as if the raccoon on the other end can see them before I bring it back. “Me? What for?”

“Well, you know how they planted some cherry blossom trees at Monty-Leigh Park a few years back?”

Yes, I do know. And I also know that this should have nothing to do with me. “Uh huh, and Brisk brought up how you were going to the festival about five times while we were on call trying that music quiz site.”

“Well, Brisk got called in for work. And I still have the tickets. And you’re my bestie, sooooo-”

Augh… It’s still so weird to hear him say stuff like that. Ever since Brisk got those claws of his into Arlo, he’s been slowly picking up some more… LGBT-centric lingo, though I guess in all technicalities “bestie” is more like typical girls’ lingo that the community adopted than anything. But that’s beside the point. What’s important is that for years and years, I used to be “my guy” or “homie,” until that bastard cat swept Arlo up and made him realize he’s bi.

Sorry. That was mean.

But in my defense, Brisk isn’t exactly an angel, despite how much effort he puts into looking like one. The petite tabby feels like he was destined to be a femboy from birth, what with all the fur on him that isn’t white being pink. At least, that’s how I feel whenever I see him, and he’s leaned into the aesthetic big time, so he probably agrees? He came out of nowhere when Arlo convinced me to hit the club with him one day, made him faceplant hard over the sudden, possibly catastrophic, brain-exploding realization that he, a straight man, could somehow find a boy cute, and everything spiraled out of my hands from there. I haven’t known Brisk very long as a result, but I’m gay enough to clock someone as flamboyant as him, even if I’ve never come out, myself. Hell, the straightest man alive could clock him, considering the first thing he did upon appearing was hit on men (which is to say, on Arlo). Crop tops, booty shorts, pastel colors, and enough accessories to make me wonder if the guy has a jewelry box, that’s what Brisk is.

That isn’t his real name, either, because of course it isn’t. His real name is Brian, but I assume it doesn’t lend to his persona, so he goes by something cuter. My name isn’t Carli, though, so what do I care? It’s Carlisle, unfortunately. Carlisle Thompson, and most people say “Carl”… but Arlo, Arlo settled on “Carli” right away and never swayed.

Oh right. Arlo.

“You want me to go to the cherry blossom festival with you,” I answer, filling in the blanks on his behalf. “Won’t Brisk cry infidelity and string you up by your toes?”

“If I didn’t already clear this with him, um, probably? He can be pretty scary.”

Another thing I know all too well. Unlike Arlo, whose blockheadedness is beyond astounding, Brisk can instantly see right to the heart of anyone he interacts with. Which is to say, he knows. That bastard cat knows that I’ve been in love with Arlo for years, and that he got to him far more easily than I ever could’ve. He also takes just about any opportunity he can to cozy up to that idiot I never stopped loving when we’re all in the same room together, just to drive me off the deep end.

…I assume.

And because of all that, the devilish grin he puts on whenever he catches wind of my irritation has been seared into my brain for all eternity. Frankly, his record of mean-spirited teasing has me wondering why he ever agreed to let Arlo ask me to go in his place. He’s an enigma. Truly.

“Alright, sure. When do I have to be ready?”

“It starts at one. I could start heading to your place right now?” Arlo offers, making me glance at the clock. It’s eleven, just about.

“That’s all well and good, but I need to get ready. Gonna need a bit.”

“Oh, right. Um, I’ll wait a bit and then leave, then?”

Impatient. Is he actually excited about going?

No offense, but something like a cherry blossom festival doesn’t fit at all with the image he gives off. That’s Brisk’s territory, through and through. No doubt about that. Just imagining the raccoon, decked out in all his spikes and chains and pitch black preferences, standing out against the bright backdrop that I assume the festival will be going for is… well, hilarious.

“Sure. Just let yourself in if I’m still in the shower or something by the time you get here. And don’t touch the lemonades in the fridge. My mom lives off those.”

“Aye aye!” He chirps back, deadly serious, and I can almost imagine him saluting no one in his empty room. “See you soon, then.”

“Right, bye!” I quip, extracting myself from my computer chair and stepping to the side to stare my closet down with every flutter possible turning my stomach over.

I mean… it seriously just doesn’t make sense! Brisk knows. He knows. Why did he sign off on letting Arlo find any replacement for something this sappy and borderline romantic, let alone me? Is it on purpose? What’s he trying to accomplish?

…Maybe he just thinks I’m too pathetic to act on anything, even if it’s this in-my-face. If that’s the case, that’s horribly mean, but also… fair. I’ve spent literal years pining for my friend, and never once did I manage to make a move. How could I? He wore his “straightness” on his sleeve for all that time, and I’m still closeted to this day. There were no openings, and he’s totally incapable of picking up on any signs unless they’re literally grinding against him in pastel pink, cat-shaped neon lights, based on the only example I’ve got.

My eyes stare right through everything as I turn all this over in my head, and I’m shortly giving up. I need some music to distract me from these thoughts, or I’ll never pick something out.

Taking the few steps back to my PC, I open up the music player I’ve had premium access to for a few years now thanks to a family plan we set up one Christmas and never canceled. I navigate to my playlist automatically, but get stopped when I see that the notification icon has the little circle denoting new stuff.

Oh right, yesterday was Friday, so the new releases playlist should’ve updated. Haven’t seen any of my bands post something for a while, though.

And listening to a new song usually means eliminating distractions like outfit selection and just listening to it, for me, but I’m kind of in a hurry. I click on the icon, and my eyes go wide.

Frou Frou…? Wait, what? WHAT_!?_

I open their artist page immediately. Like I thought, they haven’t released anything since 2002, when I was a solid 6 years old. Needless to say, I found them a bit later than that.

But what the fuck? What the fuck_!? It’s 2019???_

It’s 2019, and it’s there. “Guitar Song (Live).” I hit play in shock, intending to move back to my closet and try again, but completely freeze when it opens with Imogen whispering “Whenever you’re ready” into the mic, shortly followed by the guitar mentioned in the title. At least, that’s probably the idea. For a moment, I get to look over my options in complete peace, letting the melody distract me… and then the lyrics come in.

“Take your time, we’ll feel our rhythm

And find our feet, just like lovers do

Me and you

Woo-ooh-ooh, love me like that

Woo-ooh-ooh, take me back to yours?

Woo-ooh-ooh, love me like that

It’s the only place, it’s the only place I want to be”

Before I know it, I’m crying. As if they grew it in a fucking lab specifically for me, the track tears into my heart with each line. They all hit so painfully close to my feelings, my situation, and my wandering hands are soon clenching a poor, defenseless shirt in a vise. My whole body feels like it’s going limp except for that white-knuckle grip, and I stare dead-eyed at the floor, tears falling.

“Oh, I’ve seen you with her.

Won’t you do that to me?

Oh just like you do

With her”

…Okay, so it’s like it was grown in a lab for me minus the pronouns, which is par for the course really, but the intensity as those lines hit finally reminds me I need to breathe, and a full sob escapes as I try to properly take in some air.

It’s too much.

I’m trapped in place by my own pounding heart, and can only keep listening right up until the track ends and the audience’s clapping takes its place. Sniffling, I unthinkingly wipe my face using the sleeve of the shirt I’d been gripping the whole time. Every lyric haunts me, repeating in my head as I get myself back together, and even choked-up as I am, I start mumbling some of them back to myself while I finally look through my clothes, for real this time.

“Damn you, boy. You’ve no idea how close we are.” I somewhat vindictively quote, picking out the brightest pair of jeans I own, the ones I’ve decided are baby blue and bordering on white in some places, such is my… I guess it would be called a quirk.

I draw as a hobby, and analyzing colors until I’ve decided on what the precise name of them should be is just about my favorite thing to do. As an example, Arlo’s fur is a perfect middle ground between cinnamon stick brown and cinnamon sugar brown that I still haven’t come up with a name for, but the darker stripes, as well as his mask, are actual cinnamon stick brown, and the lighter bits on his muzzle, ears, and torso are Bavarian cream. Might be more bits of him like that, but shirtless is the most I’ve ever seen of him. And as another example, Brisk. His non-white fur is the same color as a ballet slipper, and his extra markings are a dark rose. Me? I’m a vole, so my pelt was destined to be a muddy amalgamation of browns and grays that are so entwined I couldn’t pick out the individual colors no matter how long I tried. Trust me, I’ve tried.

“Woo-ooh-ooh, love me like that,” I hum, taking a burgundy t-shirt off the hanger and swiping my lightweight, navy blue jacket to go with it. “Woo-ooh-ooh, take me back to yours.”

……

Shit, I might start crying again. I stop quoting the lyrics before it’s too late, and move to the small mess atop my dresser. My one piece of “hint-dropping” jewelry, a ring that’s been anodized so it shines in all the colors of the rainbow, hanging on a cord for use as a necklace, gets hung temporarily off my wrist, and with a pair of matching burgundy boxers plus a pair of socks from my drawers, I’m off to the shower.

It hit me hard, but Guitar Song also immediately went on my playlist, and I start it on shuffle from there as I wash up. It’s a… lovely song, as Imogen Heap herself would probably put it, despite how much it hurt on first listen, but the four minute playtime is over far too soon, and it moves on.

“Oh, that’s Begin Again by Purity Ring.” I say to no one, like I’m still playing that music quiz with Arlo (and Brisk, who was more into it than I could’ve imagined), and then I start humming along.

Each time the track changes, I try to name what it is, continuing the game in my head. The next song is Timewave Zero by Faded Paper Figures, then Catch by Allie X, followed by a sudden jumpscare when a song Arlo sent me that I actually liked, Twisted Transistor by Korn, comes on, and the list keeps going just like that. By the time I’m out of the shower it’s playing a Passion Pit song I don’t remember the name of, but thankfully I’m able to check now that I’m drying off.

“Shit. This one’s Folds In Your Hands?”

I’ll probably end up forgetting again, but it’s nice to know in the moment.

Patting my face down with my towel one more time, the next order of business is wiping the fog off the mirror so I can check myself, brush my teeth, all that. Yup, that’s me. Nobody seems to know what a vole is, so I’ve been mistaken for all sorts of other critters. Mice, hamsters, and gophers, usually. Somebody even tried to guess I was a shrew, once, which probably wasn’t even their tenth choice. That’s how “last-on-the-list” it feels like I am in terms of rodents. Hamster is closest, I guess, but my ears are closer to my head and more rounded, and my tail is also longer, somewhere between a hamster and a mouse. I’m taller than the both of those typically are, too, but that’s mostly just genetics instead of a common difference. Alas, my inspection is soon interrupted by a too-loud knock on the bathroom door.

“Is that still fuckin’ you in there, Carli? Do you know what time it is?”

Arlo. Based on the fact that he’s here, it’s probably past 11:30, but I tend to lose track of time in the shower, so I check my phone.

TWELVE FIFTEEN?

“Shit, R! Sorry!” I shout back through the wood. “I’ll be out soon, I swear!”

“’S’not like we have to be on time,” he answers, and I can easily picture the shrug he most certainly gives before he walks away. “But I would like to get outta here by 12:45 at the latest, I guess?”

“Gotcha!” I shout again, unwrapping my towel from my waist for another round of fervent drying, even though I’m barely damp at this point.

-** ◊ ***-*

“Jeeesus, it’s even more pink than I was expecting.” I whistle as we step through the park gate.

All the booths that have been set up to provide knock-off Japanese festival food, with probably about one or two legitimate stalls sprinkled in, have been papered over in too-bright, almost ostentatious pink, as if they put no consideration into how it would wash out the beauty of the actual trees. In fact, that’s probably exactly what happened. People can’t all be obsessed with color theory like me, after all.

Speaking of color theory, I coordinated my outfit all nicely but, as expected, Arlo had nothing to say on the matter. Why would he? He has a boyfriend, and even if he didn’t, he’s clueless.

Stupid. Stupid, I berate myself mentally. What, just because Imogen Heap suddenly dropped a song that lit a fire under your ass, you think things will be different? Come on, now. There’s nothing you can do.

“Holy shit, it is.” Arlo breathes, having been actually stunned by the sight and stopped in his tracks.

Alas, I’m still a bit lost in my thoughts, so it takes me a while to come to a stop too, once I finally notice the raccoon’s not by my side. I turn back and look him over, dressed near-exactly like I was imagining earlier save for the… picnic blanket? he has draped over an arm. Spiked bracelets, both his silver barbell piercings stuck through a single ear, a heavy-looking, thick studded ring on his finger, pitch black Escape the Fate t-shirt, plain chain around his neck and another hanging from his equally black jeans. Fucking hell, he’s hot. I hate it. I hate that Brisk gets to have that all to himself.

I’m such an idiot! Even if I tried to consider this an opportunity, what would I even do? He’s taken_._

I just… have to enjoy this as a day out with my friend. That’s what I’ve always done. What I’ve always had to do. I can do it again, surely. But the lyrics from before cling to me stubbornly, constantly trying to disrupt the balance I’ve kept all this time.

“Won’t you do that to me? Oh just like you do… with her”

Not now, Imogen. I snap at the echoing lyrics in my head, actively painting them over with some from the Escape the Fate song Arlo had played in the car on the way here.

“‘Cuz it’s one! It’s one, one for the money

Two! It’s two, ’cuz two is for the show

Three! It’s three, three to get ready

Are you ready motherfuckers? Are you ready, let’s go!”

Yes. Good. Those are much easier lyrics to not tear yourself up over. I stuff my hands in my pockets while I wait for the poor punk-rocker to unlock, and eventually he absorbs the sights enough to blink and look at me again.

“What exactly are we supposed to do here, then?” He asks.

“Huh? This is your whole deal!”

“Well, I mean… I usually leave the planning to Brisk…”

Of course he does. He’s woefully bad at making plans himself. I knew this.

“…Stall-hopping, I assume,” I offer. “You hungry?”

“After being denied those precious lemonades at your place? Dying, I assure you.”

That gets a laugh out of me. “Gotcha, gotcha,” I manage between chuckles. “So you want takoyaki or something?”

“Taco-what.”

Right. He doesn’t watch anime. Or at least not much. This really was more a trip for Brisk, huh?

“Um… I’m not entirely sure what the exact ingredients are, myself, but they’re good?”

“If you say so.”

We manage to take up an entire hour on the food stalls alone. Takoyaki, grilled corn, shaved ice, and the “all-time classic yakisoba pan” according to the anime fans running that particular stall, we try whatever we can force our limited stomach capacities to handle. There’s several stalls for businesses just trying to promote themselves set up in one part of the park as well, offering free branded merch no one wants, mixed in with the far more interesting independent artists and more charitable organizations. In our hurried wandering through this particular section, one booth catches my eye, and surprisingly, Arlo’s too. The various flags hanging down from the canopy, the most recognizable as always being the rainbow flag, make it obvious. The Mistford Valley LGBTQIA+ Warriors (Not their actual name, I just call them that for fun) have a stall set up. More properly, their title is “Pride of Mistford.”

“Oh, can we stop there?” He asks. “Brisk loves this stuff.”

My eye twitches involuntarily. I mean, obviously that makes sense, but hearing the cat’s name for the umpteenth time so far just irks me.

“Yeah, sure.” I answer, taking a breath.

What right do I have to be mad that he’s picking something up for his boyfriend even though it’s us together like this, hmm? I snap at myself, trying to, well, get over myself. What right_?_

A trio of painted faces greet us as we step up, their arms all around each other’s shoulders.

“Heyyyyy,” a coppery tiger who’s replaced each of the stripes on his face with a different color of the rainbow lilts, using his free hand to gesture at the table in front of us. “All the stuff up here’s free, as long as you take one of our pamphlets with you.”

“And back here,” a smoky gray deer wearing an entire party’s section worth of bead necklaces, some of which are strung between and-or hanging from his antlers, gestures, “we have flags for just about anything you can think of!”

“And down here,” the one in the middle, a lizard of some kind, with yellow and white scales patterned in a way that reminds me of… not popcorn, but one of those buttered popcorn jelly beans, offers as they unhook their arms from around their companions and dive below. “Here, we’ve got them fancy double-chambered steel water bottles. Also free, but only for couples and ’cules.”

“Huh?” Arlo blankly intones, head tilted in confusion, so I step in.

“We, um, aren’t together. He is here looking for stuff for his boyfriend, though.”

“Close enough! Take three if you want, then. We haven’t had a lot of visitors.”

“I… see. I guess the cherry blossom festival isn’t exactly a big event…”

“Yep! Narrower field of reach than anyone was thinkin’, I’m thinkin’. But anyways… while he’s checking out stuff,” the lizard offers, gesturing to Arlo, who’s indeed already sorting through a big bowl of pins with the tiger’s help, “anything you wanna look at?”

“Oh, um… can you tell me about the flags you’ve got on that side?”

“Ah!” Arlo calls out. “Tell me if you find one that looks like mint toothpaste! Brisk showed me it online before, says he wants one.”

“That’s the flag for gay men, I’m assuming,” the lizard laughs. “Come on over with me, fella. What do you wanna know about?”

“Uhh, what each one is, mostly. There’s a lot I’m not exactly sure of… like this.” I say, pointing to one with a big paw on it, stripes going from brown to brighter colors on the little bit of it I can see, folded as it is.

“That’s the Bear flag. Not the species, though there’s definitely plenty of overlap. It’s for gay men who are on the bigger, scruffier side. Though… well, there’s probably nothing stopping people who are bi or pan or so many other identities from using it too, I’d imagine.”

“Ohhh.”

I’ve seen plenty of them before. Knew the term, too. Never knew they had their own pride flag, though. I look over some of the other flags, seeing several I do recognize – rainbow, transgender, bisexual, gay men… I’m pretty sure that one’s the lesbian flag – and then…

“What’s this one?” I ask, picking up one that, folded, just looks solidly blue, with red coming in at the very edge of it.

I unfold it, revealing a simple design of a horizontal blue stripe, red stripe, and black stripe, with… the pi symbol in the center? Bright yellow. Honestly, all the colors are pretty bright, save for the black, which is the complete opposite of all that on principle, of course-

I’m the only one who really cares about that, though, aren’t I? Right. Anyways.

“That’s our flag,” the lizard answers with a happy, almost dreamy smile, pointing to the other two people at the stall. “The polyamorous flag.”

“What’s… that?”

“Ah, you don’t know at all? I guess it’s not really talked about a lot… probably why my ‘couples and ’cules’ line hasn’t been landing, if I’m being honest. Where to start, then? You ever heard the term ‘monogamy’?”

I shake my head.

“Typical. And I mean that literally. Monogamous relationships are so typical that no one even feels the need to use the term for the most part, unless they get far enough into our community or are particularly well, particular about it. Oh, speaking of, are you, um… part of it? I saw your necklace and kinda assumed, but-”

So there are people who can notice it!

“Um, y-yes,” I stammer, lowering my voice. Who better to come out to first than the people running the pride stall, right? “I-I’m… I’m… gay, but my friend there doesn’t know… Um, no one does…”

“I hear ya. I hope you find out how to live your life the way you deserve one day, then. Those pamphlets we’re handing out are meant to help with that, be it with advice and encouragement or by pointing you to our support group outright, so…”

“Th-Thanks. But um, about this flag…?”

“OH, yes! How to put this? Monogamy is a term that, well, basically applies to nearly every relationship you’ll see in almost all media. It’s what the world at large considers a ‘typical relationship,’ where there’s only two people involved. Polyamory, polygamy, to draw the parallel better, is… er, not that. It’s a relationship where- well, theoretically, there’s no limits on the people involved, but thanks to how much there is to keep track of, it usually doesn’t go past three? I’ve seen it go higher, but I’d say a group, a ‘polycule,’ like me and my partners here, are the most common kind.”

Now it’s my turn to have that sudden, possibly catastrophic, brain-exploding realization that Arlo was subjected to when Brisk showed up, but for a different reason entirely.

So the three people running this stall… are all dating each other? That… That can happen?

That… That can happen_!_

That’s real_?_

…I guess it must be!

Which means-

Immediately, guilt absolutely crushes me. My first thought was that… that I could use this! Obviously, it was… but just as quickly as the flash of supposed brilliance hit, my stomach churned, and it probably wasn’t because of the yakisoba. That’s… That’s terrible of me to think, right? To learn that there was a potential way for me to have Arlo as well and immediately cling to it, without considering either him or Brisk. They’re perfectly happy without me being involved, right? What reason would they have to consider it? How could I ever even ask them to consider it?

Yeah, I’m… I’m awful for thinking that. But… But… putting that aside, what the lizard just explained resonated with me. Instantly, powerfully, and truly. Learning what polyamory is made my heart pound like hardly anything ever has. It feels so obvious, now that I know it even exists.

“C-Can I buy this one?” I ask, already reaching for my wallet.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up a sec! You’ve got that look on your face. The dangerous one. Polyamory isn’t just a flawless solution, an easy catch-all. Maintaining a relationship like this takes an immense amount of trust and communication. It’s not some free-for-all card that lets you go out and do whatever you want. Though… well, some people do run their relationship that way, but that takes an entirely different kind of effort, to make sure everyone’s happy with the arrangement. And I’m pretty sure those people are just called swingers, most of the time.”

I just nod. This all makes sense. I’d basically intuited all of it, even. But I guess, to anyone looking at me from outside, it would seem like I’m just jumping at an opportunity that’s far too easy to fumble or abuse.

It’s not that easy to think about, not at all.

It’s not as simple as just deciding whether I can put up with Brisk or not.

That’s… That’s wrong. That’s horribly wrong of me. The absolute worst way to look at it. Not at all how I should be thinking about this. Even without the lizard at the stall saying so, I know that thought I just had was supremely awful.

He’s right.

This isn’t a flawless solution.

This is complicated.

And I’m going about it dangerously.

I should stop.

“Oh!” I squeak, backing up a little. “N-No, it’s nothing like that at all! Everything just… everything just clicked, after you explained it. I realized that I’ve always-”

The lizard’s expression changes, and he plants his palms on the tabletop, leaning forward and staring directly at me. I don’t know what he’s doing, and it starts to scare me a little. Soon, I feel tears coming up instead of words, a trait of mine I’d nearly forgotten about, it’s been so long since the last time it happened.

“Oh, I’m no good at this,” he suddenly says, straightening up and turning to the deer, who’s currently trying to hang some t-shirts up at the back of the tent. “Shay, could you-”

Before he can finish talking, though, I feel a small gust of wind tickle my left ear, followed by a hand clamping onto my right shoulder. It takes the lizard by surprise just as well, his eyes going wide as he jumps from the sudden appearance of Arlo by my side. The raccoon’s other hand swings up around my front, protectively settling atop the first, and my whole body shifts a bit as he tugs softly on me. I turn my head, and-

“Carli. What did they do?” He growls, exposing every last one of his teeth.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He’s doing THIS right now? The gallant hero act that’s just one of the countless reasons I fell in love with him? God dammit. Not right now. This is like, the worst time you ever could’ve done this.

“What. Did they do?” He repeats. “I look over and you’re about to cry.”

“St-Stop,” I choke out, my voice much, much smaller than I want it to be. I tap his arm gently, and he loosens his grip a little. “They didn’t do anything. They’ve been nothing but nice, even. I just… couldn’t think of anything to say, and you know how it is when I lose my voice like that…”

“But-”

“We were talking about something really important. Something I needed to talk about. So when I couldn’t keep talking about it I kinda, overreacted?”

“……”

“……”

“…Okay.” He almost whispers, one hand dropping while the other stays on my shoulder.

The stallkeepers all stare in shocked silence… and then erupt into hoots and hollers.

“Sorry! Really, I’m really sorry!” Arlo all but shouts, but he cuts himself off as his ears process the cheers and lifts his head back up to look around in utter confusion. “Huh? Huh whuh?”

His eyes dart between me and the celebrating polycule, but I’m just as confused.

“Hoo wee!” The tiger eventually gasps, striding out from around the tables and clapping a hand to the raccoon’s shoulder. “Fantastic show, boy. Y’sure y’two aren’t a couple? That was fuckin’ amazin’!”

“Seriously!” The deer, Shay, agrees, faking a swoon. “Mama mia, that was scary. I thought poor lil’ Esai here was gonna faint.”

“I wouldn’t!” Esai, the lizard, whines.

“What’s… going on?” Arlo asks, no less mystified.

“Oh, don’t mind us. We were just moved by some real fuckin’ passion! Like, that was some movie shit, for real.” The tiger laughs, shaking Arlo by his shoulder.

“Thank… you?”

“But really,” Esai interrupts, mischief gleaming in his eyes, “you two aren’t dating? That’s crazy.”

N-No, don’t try and do this right now, please, I think, that guilt from before settling heavily on me as I realize what the lizard might be up to. This polyamory business is all brand new to me, let alone him_. I… I doubt he’d understand._

“No?” Arlo responds, his brow furrowed. “Didn’t he tell you earlier I was dating someone?”

“Right. Of course,” Esai relents, stepping back. “Well, back to business, I guess. You find everything you needed?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” he eventually answers, turning his eyes to the table now that things are settling back down. “Hey,” he whispers to me, pointing to one of the neatly folded flags. “Is this the one I was talking about earlier?”

“Why would I know that?” I stupidly respond, forgetting all the reasons why I should in my fading panic.

“Well, I told you what it looked like, and you’re, uh, clinging to that one I’ve never seen really tightly, so I thought you might know more about this than me. You were like, asking to learn about them and stuff, right?”

Right…

I heave a sigh as I realize he hasn’t picked up on anything deeper still, thanking his blockheadedness just this once.

“Right. Right. Yes, that’s the flag Brisk showed you. I’ll just… set this down.” I say, reluctantly folding the polyamorous flag up and putting it back.

Esai picks it up gingerly, eyes darting between it and me as Shay gets a paper bag out for the stuff Arlo’s getting, tossing in a pamphlet while he’s at it. As they work to get payment sorted, Esai casually passes the flag back to me.

“Just stick it in your pocket or something,” he whispers. “I’m sorry if I caused any trouble.”

“N-No, I can’t just-”

“Then feel free to pay up,” he chuckles. “Just stow it away quick now.”

Feeling much better about that arrangement, I fold the flag up two more times and secret it away, pulling out my wallet and handing over the bills.

“Be careful, now,” Esai tuts as we start getting ready to head out. “Like I said, a relationship like ours takes a lot of care, and if what I’m thinking you’re thinking is right, what you’re aiming for is an even tougher nut to crack.”

Oh, god… Can he really tell? And… And does that mean he thinks I should try anyways?

Unable to put my hopelessly clouded feelings into words, I leave without saying anything else, letting Arlo take point. Apparently he’s all done stall-hopping, and is finally ready to lay out the blanket he brought and do the actual cherry blossom viewing. Thanks to the festivities not being as popular as people were expecting, there are plenty of trees to choose from, and soon he’s unfolding… a towel. Not even a beach towel. Just a regular towel.

“What… What the hell is this?” I ask, and he at least has the decency to look sheepish.

“I might’ve… been overexcited and in a hurry and grabbed the first thing I could get my hands on out of the linen closet?”

“And what? We’re going to sit on it anyway? The both of us can’t even fit on this!”

“Sure we can! We just gotta squeeze real close together!”

That is the last thing my heart needs right now.

“I dunno. Brisk might actually cry infidelity if we try.”

“What’s the big deal? I don’t wanna just not do this part of the whole shebang.” He complains, and I have to relent. I can’t say no to a pleading emo boy. Really, I doubt anyone could.

…Right?

I can’t be alone in this, surely.

“Fine.”

It takes a lot of work, but we both fit onto the goddamn bath towel. Our shoulders are pressed uncomfortably close, hands struggling to not bump together, and frankly it’s not at all romantic or ideal.

“Okay maybe it was a bad idea.” He admits.

“You think?”

“Now what, though? Do we like, look up?”

“I guess?”

In agreement, we tilt our heads to the sky, taking in the blossoming flowers on the tree… and realize almost in sync that we have no idea how to perform proper nature appreciation.

“They sure are pink.” I poorly observe.

“Sure are.”

“……”

“……”

“……”

“Wanna, um, listen to music or something?”

“Or we could just leave.”

“Come onnnnn, man. Does this suck that much?”

It’s kinda the opposite, actually. We’re not comfy, but being pressed close to him is almost like a dream… I just wish I wasn’t so conflicted right now. “I guess it doesn’t. Pass me an earbud.”

In short order, the cord is split between us, and he’s squinting at the underside of his phone to make sure he gets the jack in properly. He opens the music app, the light from the UI reflecting in those coffee brown eyes, because obviously I’m a gay loser who has to watch his face instead of trying to peek at whatever’s coming, and blinks.

“Oh, looks like new releases happened.” He says, opening the icon and pressing autoplay.

“Whenever you’re ready”

Oh, no. Fuck no. You can’t. You actually can’t_._

I should’ve realized. I… I gave him access to my premium account. We share it, and we both have our own playlists on it… but there’s no way to split our followed artists apart. And probably due to some goofy bug in how computers work in general, he somehow had the same notification icon I had earlier despite the fact that it should’ve been cleared already.

“Hm? Is this one of your songs? It doesn’t really sound like the stuff you listen to.”

“Wh… What do you mean?” I ask, gritting my teeth as-

“Take your time, we'll feel our rhythm

And find our feet, just like lovers do

Me and you”

“Your stuff usually isn’t acoustic, I mean,” he says, looking down at the playback bar. “‘Live’? Oh, that makes sense.”

“You can change it, if you-”

“Woo-ooh-ooh, love me like that

Woo-ooh-ooh, take me back to yours?

Woo-ooh-ooh, love me like that

It’s the only place, it’s the only place I want to be”

“Nah. I kinda like this. It’s got my very own ‘sad and brooding soul’ vibe going on.” He jokes.

“I uh, actually just listened to this earlier.” I admit, not knowing what else I could possibly say right now.

“Ah, did you?” He answers automatically, and then starts humming along to the track, every bit of it delayed to the point it’s more like an echo, since he’s never heard it before. God it’s cute. I really don’t think I can handle this.

“And damn you, boy

You’ve no idea how close we are

’Cause every move of every muscle

It just gets me right where others all go wrong”

I go rigid.

“Hah, that’s kinda funny. I promise you miss, I know exactly how close we are right now.”

No you fucking DON’T_._

Scrabbling for anything in the face of my mounting embarrassment, my hand ends up curling around the flag in my pocket. The chorus repeats, and my heart catches fire.

I can’t keep this up. I decide, hearing Imogen ask him to “love me like that” on my behalf.

I pull the flag free and start unfolding it, nerves already making me regret everything I’m doing. Of course, it takes a lot of movement, so I quickly have Arlo’s attention.

“Wait, you got that after all? But I thought…” he starts, and then his face wrinkles up. “Well, actually, I guess I never really asked you, and just assumed…”

“Heaven will be the moment when you wake up with me, next to me.”

“Um, R… Can I talk to you about some stuff?”

“S-Sure. Brisk taught me all about being accepting. I’ll- I’ll listen to anything you need.”

I almost puncture the fabric with even my weak little claws, hearing that cat’s name again. But I’ve already jumped headfirst into the deepest end imaginable, so I can’t back out. I won’t. I have to make this clear, while it’s all fresh in my mind. I think…?

“R… I’m, um, I’m gay?” I really, really lamely squeak out, the words feeling foreign even though they’ve been my truth for ages.

He shifts slightly on our stupid fucking towel. “Oh, really? But that’s not the flag for it, is it? I know that much, at least.”

…Maybe I can’t do this after all.

My words all disappear again, and I can’t continue. Instead, I break down. The flag falls from my hands, and I use them to grip Arlo’s arm, tight. Angry at myself, at my inability to put this into terms I think he can understand in the spur of the moment, I bury my face in his shoulder and start crying.

“C-Carli!?” He shouts, rightfully concerned, but I just sob. I shake, heave, and sob, unable to bridge the gap.

–☀–

I don’t understand what’s wrong, that much is clear, but I really don’t need to. Carli is crying. He’s crying! I hate when he cries. It’s so devastating. Always has been, and it’s all I need to know. It’s the only thing I need to know to wrap my arms around him, pulling him even closer than we already were.

I have a few guesses on what might be causing this, I do. The lyrics to this song I’d inadvertently put on could be tied to it, his coming out could be tied to it, what we went through at that stall earlier could be tied to it, but I don’t know any of it for certain, so I won’t comment.

People think I’m an idiot, they think I’m dense. They might be right, to some extent, but the actual truth is that I just… don’t like to engage with complicated things like this unless I’m 100% certain I understand them. Maybe… Maybe if I knew what that flag he was carrying means, I’d be able to piece this puzzle all the way together. But that’s a huge maybe. It’s all a lot of “maybe”s, all too suddenly.

I don’t like “maybe”s, but… but this is a “maybe” I feel like I have to cling to as best I can. For Carli’s sake.

But I need to try and get him to stop crying first.

“Carli…” I try again, and the fact he squeezes my arm even harder makes it clear he can at least hear me.

“Da-da-da, you and me

You and”

The song fades out to applause, and a voice I recognize replaces it as the app moves on.

“Heeeeey!

Do you hear me?

Do you hear me now?

On a midnight dreary”

This is… the Marianas Trench album from like, last month? I think dimly as I scramble for the pause button.

The music isn’t helping right now, I’m sure. And like, yeah, I liked them more from their earliest albums, and really like their new stuff too despite it shifting away from what I tend to go for, but- Wait, what the hell am I doing right now? There’s way more important shit happening!

“Carli… Are you mad?” I ask, tossing my ever-present hangups to the wayside. I’m going to try and piece this puzzle together without the full picture this time. It has to be worth it. I hope. My own grip tightens around him as I fight to get my next words out. “Are you mad I’m dating Brisk?”

That’s a reach… I know it is, and what I’m about to say is an even bigger reach, but thinking back on how he reacted at the pride stall when those guys joked about us dating…

I’m probably the only person who noticed, since my hands were kinda all over him for a bit, there. He was shaking, right to the very end.

“Did you… Do you… um, like me?”

Without warning, Carli leaps up and away, yanking both my earbud and his out with the force and looking down at me with panic in his eyes. Fuck. What did I do?

His tear-stained face immediately makes my heart turn on its head.

I… I regret everything I’ve just said.

This is why I don’t make assumptions!

Look at him… Look at how hurt.

…I did that.

It was me.

On instinct, my hand grips at my chest, bunching up the fabric of my shirt as tears of my own spring up.

“Carli…” I force out. “D-Don’t look at me like that. T-Talk to me…”

“Where do I even start?” He wheezes, and I think my heart might legitimately collapse.

I look around, at all the people about, and know that staying here is the last thing we should do. With all the speed I can manage, I pick up my earbuds and bag, his flag, the towel, and lead him by the hand to my car. This might be scaring him more, but we need to get to privacy. I yank open the door to the backseat and bundle us both in, leaning forward only to turn the car on and get the A/C going. He’s shaking terribly, and I can’t just watch. Resigning myself to any potential backlash, I wrap my arms around him again, but thankfully, nothing comes.

“Carli, please… Look. We’re safe now. You’re okay.” I whisper, even as my vision threatens to blur with tears again.

I’ve always hated seeing him like this. Always.

Slowly, he reaches up and taps my arm, providing that ever-familiar signal that I can loosen my grip. Relief washes through me, even though things are far from over. I try something different this time, and take his hand in mine as I pull away. His claws dig into my palm, not exactly painful, but the pressure is certainly there.

“So, um, was I right?” I ask. “Did you… Do you… like me?”

But Carli just breathes hard, struggling to lift his head.

“You don’t have to look at me!” I insist. “Just talk. Any way you can. I… I can’t figure out what to do if you don’t talk…”

“Okay,” he finally mumbles, jabbing those claws into my palm again and taking a deep breath. “Yeah, R… I like you. I… I love you.”

“H-How… How long? Can I ask that?”

“Since day one, I’d like to say.”

Fuck.

__________

So many years ago, a raccoon meets a vole in the park. The little rodent is on the swingset all by himself, looking perfectly content, but the raccoon decides to join him nonetheless.

“Hey,” he says, parking himself in the next swing over. “What’s your name?”

“Wha-?”

“Why are you by yourself?”

“Um-”

“Do you, uh, like swings?”

“……”

“……”

“……”

“What’s wrong?”

“…Where do I even start?”

“Huh?” The raccoon asks, seeing the vole hang his head. “Are you sad?”

“No, I just… can’t pick what question to answer.”

“Oh…”

“……”

“……”

“……”

“…So what’s your name?”

“C-… Carlisle.”

“No WAY.”

The vole shrinks away the moment the raccoon starts laughing.

“Augh! This is why I don’t wanna tell anyone!”

“No, wait! Wait! I’m sorry! Um… So, um, can I call you Carli?”

“What?”

“It’s easier that way, right? I’m Arlo!”

“Ar…”

__________

How the hell does anyone fall in love over that_?_ I think with no small hint of embarrassment, but nowadays I’m at least smart enough to not say it aloud.

Who am I to judge, after all? Frankly, I still find the way I fell head-over-heels for Brisk a little ridiculous, when I do think back on it. It was all just such a whirlwind…

Ack, no! Leave him out of this for now. Carli… Well, I still don’t know what it is with him and Carli… but…

I can guess. I can always guess.

No. What matters now is the fact that Carli has been carrying these feelings around for years, while I just went and ran off with the first guy who rewired my brain.

That’s gotta be part of the problem. But like, what do I do about it? Would I be able to dump Brisk if Carli asked me to? He wouldn’t go that far though, right…?

“Um, okay,” I very unskillfully continue in the silence I’d accidentally let fall. “S-So – and don’t freak out, because I really need to say this stuff aloud to keep things together – you’re gay, and in love with me… and… and I’m dating someone. And I… Fuck. I don’t know what to do.”

“I…”

“Hm?”

“This… This flag,” he whimpers, picking it up from where I’d dumped it (and really everything) on the floor. “If I could explain what it means to you, maybe…?”

“Go ahead. Please. I’ll take anything that might help me out here.”

“This is the polyamorous flag. The… The guy at the stall. He explained it to me. What polyamory is. It’s, well… a relationship with more than two people involved?”

“…….?”

“…….”

“…That can HAPPEN!?”

That’s way too convenient. No, wait, it’s not convenient at all. There’s way too many uncertainties. I’d have to ask Brisk, and I have no idea how he’d react, and-

“I felt the same way, back there.” Carli responds, chuckling.

Alas, my thoughts are obliterated. Just hearing him laugh again has my heart flipping itself back upright, more distracting than anything ever could be. Weirdly, it feels familiar. When was the last time my heart did flips like this?

Oh god dammit.

It all goes back to Brisk again. He’s the one who sent me on this rollercoaster, and I’ve been riding it ever since. But… But that “rollercoaster” is…

Shit.

That “rollercoaster” was, and still is, love, if I stop and think about it. So, if these feelings that I’m feeling about Carli all remind me of the same ones Brisk made me feel-

Am I in love with Carli, too? Can I just decide I’m polyamorous as easily as I realized I was bi?

Then again, it’s not like there’s really any evidence I’m even bi. For all that time spent ogling girls back in school, Brisk is the only person I’ve ever dated. I was mostly using the “hey, check out that hottie” schtick to try and keep up airs with Carli, since that sorta stuff is kinda what guys were expected to do? At least, that’s what it felt like. But if he was gay the whole time… was I accomplishing nothing? Fuck, what if I’ve just been gay the whole time? I’m dense enough to not realize that. And I’ve certainly never felt any of these crushing emotions around a girl…

Wait, stop. What the hell is even the point of reevaluating my life right now? There’s more important things happening.

…But, well, someone who’s been here for what feels like my whole life has just dropped some crazy crucial shit, so maybe this much is to be expected?

No. No, that can’t be right. What do I even care about doing “what’s expected” of me anymore? I’m literally just sitting here in silence, if I do that. No, think about what he’s trying to say again. Can I really just grab onto what he’s trying to offer…?

…No, obviously.

I’d have to ask Brisk. I’d have to take all this up with Brisk… but am I willing to try_? I mean, I’d do anything for Carli, right? I think I’ve said that to myself more than just about anything else in all of forever._

“It can’t be that easy,” I grumble. “If it was that easy, why wouldn’t everyone just…?”

“Wait,” Carli gasps, looking shocked, but I see a sparkle come into his eyes just as well. “You’re actually considering it? Already? Um, s-stop me if I’m wrong, but, I think… I think that’s what makes us different, R. I think there are just people who are… what was the word…? Monogamy. I think there are just people who are monogamous and people that aren’t. I mean, when I had this explained to me, I thought it all made so much sense. I subscribed to it just like that. I think… I think it’s because I was always polyamorous and just didn’t know until someone told me it was real. But… But the way you’re talking, are you really also…?”

“I… I think so? It does also just ‘make sense,’ to me,” I air-quote. “And not a lot of things tend to, I’m sure you know.”

“Then-”

“Then… I have to talk to Brisk about this. We have to. I don’t want you to be sad, Carli. I don’t ever want you to be sad.”

That’s how I’ve always felt. And I never really understood why I felt this way… but it looks like I might be starting to?

“It’s been hurting you the whole time, right? Watching me be with someone else? Like… Like that song that was playing earlier.”

“Y-You caught onto that, too?”

I chuckle, but soon my heart’s sinking again as I realize a few more things thanks to the admission. “Maybe I’m not as dumb as you thought, eh? But… now I’m worried about what it was like, for you to have to watch Brisk be all over me like he tends to be…”

“Honestly, I thought he was doing it on purpose.”

“H-Huh?”

“I thought that he knew everything you didn’t, and would be extra clingy when I was around to make it hurt more.” He spits, his tone turning venomous.

“No.”

“Wha-”

“Brisk wouldn’t do something that awful.” I snap.

“But-”

“No. He wouldn’t, and if you really want to try this polyamory thing, you’ll have to trust me and him both on that, right?”

“I… I didn’t even get that far in explaining how this stuff apparently works, according to the guy back at the stall.”

“Then maybe this all comes even more naturally to me than it does to you,” I joke, trying to backpedal on the acid I’d accidentally spit too and clambering into the front seat. “So, what do you say we pay him a visit at work?”

“That’s definitely not where anyone should try and discuss stuff like this,” Carli responds in horror. “Maybe you’re still clueless after all.”

Maybe maybe maybe maybe fuckin’ maybe_!_ I think angrily, the word getting thrown around far too much for my liking, but that’s a me problem, so I just give Carli a chuckle. “Well, unless you can think of a better opportunity, we’re gonna have to… And hey! That’s mean! See if I ever offer to form a trio with you again.”

“It’s called a polycule.”

~☼~

I certainly wasn’t expecting to get a call from Arlo while on break. Especially since I’d given him express permission to go and sort things out with that poor little friend of his all day today. When he explained that Carli was coming with him, though, I got this inkling that maybe they were sorting things out, after all. And I guess I should’ve known I’d be involved, at some point.

“Forsythe,” my shift lead suddenly calls while I’m thinking about all this. “Back on the floor, if you would. The aftermath of the festival is starting to come through. They want their coffee, and we need all hands on deck.”

I have to suppress a little twitch as she so casually reminds me of the festival that I was supposed to be at, but head out as ordered. It’s fine. There’s only about an hour left in my shift, and my boy’ll be here for the last stretch of it. That alone is enough to keep me going. And lucky me, the familiar rush of customers quickly has me zoning out, working on autopilot as a song I personally loaded onto the shop’s playlist the moment I first heard it starts up.

“I’ve waited for moments of clarity

Sleep walkin’ through life like a daydream”

Hiiiiiii Rebecca. I giggle at her in my head, happily letting my hands do their thing as time flies by, and eventually-

“Heeeyyy Brisk,” comes that oh-so-familiar voice, trying out one of the more fruity greetings I’ve been teaching him and dragging me out of the haze. “How’s my kitty?”

“Wonderful now that you’re here, love,” I answer, taking hold of the hand he left on the countertop even as I lean around to try and catch sight of Carli as well. Sure enough, he’s there, looking absolutely haggard. He’s not even giving me that jealous blush he gets whenever I do basically anything to Arlo. Something really has happened, today, it seems. “Gracious. Carli there looks like he could use something. Wanna try the sakura latte, if we still have any?”

“Oh… um, sure.” Carli responds, sounding a bit nasally.

Oh dear, that serious?

“And if we happen to be out?” I ask preemptively.

“Lime fizz?”

“You’re just about the only person who orders those on the regular, so I’m sure we do.” I tease, turning to get ready.

“What, I don’t get to order?” Arlo complains, stopping me in my tracks.

Oops. He didn’t really look all that worse for wear compared to poor Carli, but now that I’m listening to his voice more closely…

“Oh, love, sorry. We’ve been slammed, so I’m not at my best.”

“Was just a joke. I’ll take an iced chai, with two pumps of brown sugar syrup, light ice-”

“Love. I may not be at my best, but I can still handle a ‘the usual’ from you, of all people.”

“Sorry. Just making sure.”

“Aye aye.”

I take a look around, see that our shelves have been largely emptied, and instead head for the back to see if we’ve still got stock. My shift lead passes by on the way, so I flag her down.

“Hey, Bonnie. Things are calming down out there, and my… friends, are here to visit, so can I clock out after making their orders? It’s about that time anyway, right?”

She flips a few pages back on her clipboard, squinting. “…You clocked in a bit early today, it looks like, so sure. Thanks for your hard work.”

Phew. Okay, sakura powder… sakura powder… Ah, just one last canister, is it? Good for him. He could do with something more calming, instead of those glorified energy drinks.

I mean, it’s all caffeine just the same, but still. The work haze takes over again, and before I can even properly realize it I’m out on the patio and seated at one of our horribly unattractive mesh tables with Arlo and Carli both, caramel macchiato in hand while they both test their own drinks. When I see Carli take a sip of his and visibly relax, just like I’d hoped, I can’t help but crack a smile.

“So, you wanted to talk, right?” I eventually ask, trying to stop my tail from flicking nervously. It’s a lot when two boys who have clearly been crying suddenly want you involved, after all.

“Did I mention that?” Arlo asks with a surprised blink. “I thought I said we were just coming to visit.”

“Honey, anyone could tell.”

“I really think that’s just a you thing, still.”

“Possibly.”

Would it kill people to be a little more observant? I think, as usual.

I’ve asked that my entire life, though, and as always, the answer seems to be that it really isn’t as easy a skill to pick up as I find it to be. Good thing I accepted that I was the weird one a long time ago, at least?

“So, what about?” I continue, poking my straw past my lips for a sip that ends up sucking an entire ribbon of caramel off the bottom of my cup.

Ick.

I mean, it’s good, because it’s caramel, but ick. Too much. Where’s my caffeinated bittering agent? She’s the bitch I do this for.

Arlo exchanges a look with Carli, and then reaches into his pocket, pulling out a fabric bundle. With an inelegant flapping, he unfolds the thing, and soon the pattern becomes familiar. Heat rises to my cheeks immediately, my heart loses all semblance of control, and a thousand things click together in my brain at once.

What the hell did you two manage to get up to at the cherry blossom festival, of all things? Seriously? That’s where this is going?

Like, sure. Sure, I thought Carli was cute at the club – him and Arlo both – but Carli clearly only had eyes for that dumbass raccoon, so I… I decided to butt in and see if I could score either of them, and it just so happened Arlo was easy as hell to crack.

Emphasis on EITHER of them. Not both!

But after I won my little game, it turned out Arlo was also just fucking incredible, so I was more than happy to keep him. And sure, I couldn’t help but tease Carli a few times over it… Honestly, I’m still not entirely sure why I kept goading him for a reaction, because I’d certainly never considered this avenue when I was doing it. Like, it was probably just some kind of fantasy fulfillment of mine I was prodding for, at the time, yeah? I do love being put in my place, it’s true, but even then-

I’d never imagined either of them would someday find out about that particular pride flag, and most definitely never thought they’d come carrying one home under any circumstances, but… but… really?

My eyes automatically dart over to Carli, and he shrinks in on himself as if I’d stabbed him. Come now, I know I’ve got that cold, steely gaze by default, but I can’t do a thing about my eye color, and I’m not mad at him. Can he not tell?

“Do you know what this is?” Arlo asks, sounding like he’s testing the waters, but I can hear deeper in his tone that he’s already put together all the pieces of this particular puzzle, as he would put it.

“I do. Was there a pride stall at the festival? Now I really wish I got to go. Who was running it? Esai, Shay, and Joel, maybe? They usually volunteer.”

“That’s exactly right, actually,” Arlo chuckles. “’Cept I didn’t know the tiger was Joel. You’re way too good at that, uh, what did you call it? ‘Networking’ stuff?”

“Yes, love, but that was more of an educated guess than anything. Now, what exactly are you asking me about the polyamorous flag for?”

“Right. Well…… Actually, how do I start with this? I feel like you’ve probably already figured out everything I could say.”

“Well, kinda sorta…” I grumble, taking supreme interest in the cracks in the pavement, anything to avoid looking at them while I struggle to process it all. I understand where they’re trying to go, but this really isn’t the sort of decision you can just make on the spot… right?

“I… I’ll do it.” Carli suddenly speaks up, reaching over to take the flag from where Arlo is way-too-openly displaying it, if I’m being honest. Running about with a rainbow flag is one thing, but anything more complex than that? Whole different can of worms.

The vole bundles the flag into his lap – well, mostly; some of it flops onto the tabletop – and stares down at the symbolism I’m sure he can’t possibly know the individual meanings of, even if he knows that this is what he wants. He looks deadly serious each time his eyes dart up to me from below, and I set my drink down out of respect for his bravery. Really, I didn’t think he had it in him.

“So,” I offer, when he just keeps looking back and forth instead of speaking up. “What’s going on here?”

“Brisk… do you hate me?”

Fantastic thing I had set my drink down, too, because I might’ve done a spit-take if I was taking this any less seriously.

“What!? How is that where you’re starting this? WHY is that-? No, sorry. I’ll… I shouldn’t be questioning you. No, Carli. I don’t hate you at all.”

Whatever brought that question on, it seems it was absolutely critical, because the tension absolutely drains from the vole’s shoulders, accompanied by Arlo smiling over at him, a total “I-told-ya-so” grin.

“I don’t get it…” He mumbles, but his relief is clearer than day.

“What don’t you get?”

“Why I ever thought that, I guess?”

Did I go too far with my teasing all those other times after all? I thought for sure he could handle it… but, well, I guess he did, if this is the point we’ve gotten to.

“Um, how do you feel about polyamory?” He then continues, apparently not finding any better way to put the question.

“Never tried it, but I certainly have no problems with it.”

That much is 100% true. I hadn’t ever considered it an option for me, frankly, because I genuinely didn’t think I’d be able to handle it. But I’ve known Carli and Arlo for a while now, and that feeling of “being unable to handle it”… it’s kinda not there, when I apply the concept to them.

Could I actually try it, if it’s them? They’re both certainly not any less cute than they were back then…

But whether you think someone is hot is secondary to whether you click with them or not… unless you’re a bit horny at the club and feeling adventurous, like I was that day. It wasn’t even a gay club, so I was obviously feeling extra spicy.

Um. Anyways.

“Is this a coming-out you wanted me to hear?” I ask. “What for? Because I’m the only other gay person you know besides blockhead there?”

I mean, Arlo’s said he’s bi, in all technicalities, but saying you’re gay when you’re bi just for the satisfaction of it is basically par for the course.

Carli’s grip tightens on the flag, and my nerves string themselves higher. “Brisk. You already know what… what I’m trying to do, don’t you?”

“More or less.”

But it’s best you say it aloud. I encourage him silently, knowing that this isn’t something I should be putting into words. This is all on him.

“……”

“……”

“…I’ll just skip to the end, then. I… I’ve been in love with Arlo for years, and at the pride stall I learned about polyamory… a-and I know it’s fucking stupid of me to think I can just get away with doing any of this immediately after learning about it, but… I already ended up spilling everything to him and, well, we’re both coming to you now, to see if I can get away with pushing my luck any further.”

“So you think that because you also love Arlo and know that polyamory is a thing as of a few hours ago, you can just test your luck and see if I’ll just let you squeeze in?” I repeat, making sure he shows a proper cringe of regret over how insane a play that is, even though I’m still more impressed than mad. “Those are some titanium grade balls you’ve got. What about me, hmm?”

“I… That is the problem, isn’t it?” Carli answers, his voice cracking into splinters, but just when I think he’s about to break down, he becomes a blur instead.

In what feels like a second flat, he’s tossed that flag of his into a surprised Arlo’s lap, launched out of his seat, and circled around the table, where my equally surprised hands are soon in his. I barely manage to stop my claws from digging into him in my shock, and his glittering, bright green eyes are shining with barely held back tears as he stares directly at me. It’s enough to make a girl blush.

“Brisk. Will you go on a date with me? I want to see if we can make things work, more than anything.”

“Oh, so that’s what you came here to ask, is it?” I manage to get out, trying to hide how very flustered I am. “Here I thought you were just trying to take my man, but you’re trying to romance me as well after all? …Far be it from me to say no to a cute boy, then. Though I have to admit, this first date was a bit of a mess. Really, take a girl somewhere that isn’t her fucking workplace next time, why don’t’cha?”

“N-Next…? Next? Next?” Carli repeats, his brain apparently screeching to a halt. Phew, looks like I’ve still got it.

Before I answer, I extract one hand from his slackening grip so I can twirl my straw cutely and turn my head sidelong in a particularly ineffective attempt to obscure the fact that I’m still blushing like crazy.

“Yes, next time. All I said was that I’d never tried an open relationship before, not that I’m unwilling to. So if you’re determined to put in equal effort with me as you are with blockhead over there, I should at least let you try.”

“Really?” Carli squeaks, those tears he was only barely holding back breaking free at last.

“Crying on the first date isn’t a good look either.” I try to tease, but before I can continue talking, a certain someone is making out with me in a movement just as blurred and shocking as Carli’s were.

“I fucking love you, Brisk,” Arlo breathes when he finally pulls away. “Thank you for giving Carli a chance. Thank you so much.”

Fucking hell, he really does love that vole, doesn’t he?

It’s abundantly clear in his passion and voice alike.

“Shit,” I huff out. “If he can get you that fired up after just a confession, I might be winning the jackpot here. Let’s see if he can keep up, hm?”

“Wh-What?” Carli stammers, looking at me with every question imaginable in his eyes.

“Get over here and come see if there’s a spark, is what I’m saying. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, seeing as you were there, but it didn’t take long to get raccoon boy here testing the waters with me. And, um, I feel a lot worse about that, now that you’ve finally told him how you feel instead of staying quiet… but that’s besides the point. C’mon, you might as well take your chance at revenge now, riiight?”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Arlo snaps, in a way I wasn’t expecting at all. “No way! You think I’ll just let Carli have his first kiss with you instead of me? Who exactly is getting revenge on who, here? Shouldn’t he be getting revenge by kissing me, in that case? That seems way more right!”

……

“Jeez, just say you want to kiss him, then. I’ll wait my turn in the cuck chair.”

An unholy wheeze escapes Carli as I make the joke, while it of course flies right over Arlo’s head. It’s a dynamic we’d already established in all our previous hangouts, but I have to say, things are far spicier this time.

“The fucking what?” He demands, absolutely stupefied.

“I’ll tell you later, if Carli doesn’t stop me.”

“He should learn that one, I think,” the vole chuckles, wiping his tears away. “It might become a classic, soon. If things go well.”

“I’m having a damn good time already, so I’d say our chances are on the up and up.”

“…But is it really okay?” Carli asks. “For me to kiss your boyfriend, I mean.”

“Well, his boyfriend just asked you to kiss them, so I’d say it balances out.”

“O-Okay, then.” He nervously chirps, turning slowly, stiffly in Arlo’s direction… and then the raccoon himself has ecstatically swept him up, planting a kiss on him that could make any romance director seethe with envy.

Fuck, that’s kinda… way fucking hot, actually. Was the cuck chair joke actually just, um, true? …You learn new things every day.

“Okayyyyyyyyy,” I lilt when they finally pull away, innocently pointing at my own lips when Carli looks over. “Now that Arlo showed you how it’s done, can I have mine?”

With a face flushed through with the adrenaline we’re all clearly running on to keep making fools of ourselves like this in public, Carli steps up to me… and yanks me up by the collar of my shirt. Menacingly.

“I’ve wanted to do this to you so many damn times,” he hisses like a schoolyard bully, looking more like he’s about to punch me in the face. “But this next part is all-new.”

It’s beyond what I ever expected of the too-polite, long-suffering vole. Sparks be damned, an entire inferno kicks to life between us when he all but slams our muzzles together, and every single pretense I could’ve tried to keep up gets lost in the desperation he fills me with. My claws flail around until they land where they should – one paw digging into the small of his back while the other hooks around the back of his head, trying everything to pull him further into me.

“Holy shit, Carli. I want one of those,” Arlo gasps, slack-jawed, and I crack my eyes open and lock sights with him for the few remaining moments before Carli pulls away. “Fuck, that’s… that’s… I don’t think the words coming to mind are permissible in the sacred space of this coffee shop. Forgive me Father, for I feel like this is somehow, definitely a sin.”

I roll my eyes, only barely holding back the laugh.

Guess I’ll have to tell him what the cuck chair is after all. Seems we’ve both learned things about ourselves today… But, hell. It might be Carli who’s learned the most. I seriously never imagined that all the teasing I did would somehow land him… land us, here.

“Okay, okay,” I eventually manage to say. “Has everyone gotten their kisses now? My uniform’s a goddamn mess. I really was right to ask if I could clock out early.”

“Oh, s-sorry,” Carli offers, retreating back to the meek shell I’m used to. “I can uh, help you get fixed up?”

“No need. I’m pretty good at getting clothes back into place fast. Just ask Arlo.”

“What?” Comes the raccoon’s high-pitched response. “No. No way. I’m not ready to start telling stories like those yet. Carli just got here!”

“Here as in…?”

“As in, into our relationship? Fuck, I dunno. There hasn’t really been time to iron out the details, if you didn’t notice.”

“I noticed. I’ve known everything all along, or whatever, right? I figured out what you two wanted to ask the moment that flag came out, I figured out the relationship chart way before you did, and I luckily managed to push Carli here to take the final steps on his own. I’m basically a genius.”

“I love you…”

“Love you too. And as for you, Carli,” I add, making the vole jump a foot. “You’re doing pretty good at sweeping me off my feet.”

“I… think I might be in love.” He mumbles, lost for words.

“I do tend to have that effect on people. Just one date even a little better than this one and we might even reach the point we need to. I’m pretty good at playing catch-up.”

“Um… The festival is running tomorrow too, I think.”

“Ooh, you’re good.”

-** ◊ ***-*

“My head fucking huuuuurts.” I complain from the backseat of the car, where Arlo had demanded me and Brisk both sit, saying something like “It feels weird to pick one person to sit up here with me, now.” No one put in the effort to argue about it, too drained to try, what with the adrenaline rush leaving us in the dust. No amount of caffeine can compensate for that, and, honestly? Might even be making things worse.

“Awww, darlin’,” Brisk coos, reaching over to massage my shoulders unprompted. “If you said something earlier, I could’ve gotten you a water before we left. You’re probably dehydrated.”

“Har har.” I deadpan, resisting my primal urge to reject any act of kindness and shake him off. His kneading paws really do feel quite nice, I’m just… super not used to any of this, especially from him.

“I was being serious.” He complains, but Arlo speaks up before he can continue, looking at us through the rear-view mirror.

“Heyyy, now. If I knew you guys were gonna start getting all touchy-feely in the back without me, I would’ve made one of you sit up front. This hardly seems fair and balanced.”

We both roll our eyes. He’s made at least three jokes about the “balance” of our very new, very confusing relationship so far, and it’s already starting to wear thin. This is difficult stuff, and we’re all total newbies when it comes to it, so it’s really less “funny” and more “cause for concern” than anything. Thankfully, Brisk has his usual comeback on tap.

“I’m playing catch-up still, aren’t I? Surely you can let me get away with this much?”

“…I guess so. If you agree to take the guest room tonight so he can share my bed. We’ve got our own catching up to do, there.”

“No. Way.” Brisk snaps back, apparently having some things he’s not willing to compromise on yet.

Meanwhile, my head is doing another painful spin. “Does… Do either of you know what that just sounded like?”

“Huh?” Arlo asks, and I can see it as his brow furrows in the mirror, likely repeating what he just said in his head. “Oh. OH. Holy shit, no. That’s not what I… I mean, if you wanted to, I guess I wouldn’t- but um, no, no, not what I meant! That’s- That’d be moving a little too fast, right? I was thinking more along the lines of we could cuddle, or something. B-But again, if you, uh, wanted… I-… I’ll stop talking now.”

Thank god we’re at a red light. The raccoon might’ve crashed the whole damn car if he was steering during that entire disaster prevention attempt.

“Excuse me, but I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to sign off on that too, before you just fucking go for it,” Brisk huffs, unhooking his claws from my shoulder, which had dug in pretty hard as a result of him having a similar reaction to mine. “Cuck chair be damned. Besides, my problem was more with the mattress in the guest room. I hate that thing.”

I can’t help myself. Another laugh escapes me even though it’s the same joke from before, and I end up with my head buried in the back of Arlo’s seat before I get myself under control again.

“Well, we can talk about it,” Arlo relents as he pulls into his driveway. “But first, we need to get some water. All of us. Maybe even some aspirin.”

It takes a bit to gather everything, especially since Arlo had ended up spilling the entire contents of the bag he got from the pride stall on the floor in his hurry to get me back to the car earlier, but eventually we’re all sitting ’round his circular kitchen table, our chairs meticulously spaced to be equidistant because no one can decide who should be in the middle if we tried to sit together. Raccoon’s orders. Obviously, me and Brisk would be happy to cozy up to him on either side, but he’s adamant about making sure we close our personal distance, too, since I kinda basically straight up told him that I had a few issues with the cat…

But that was before!

I can’t deny how Brisk made me feel back at the coffee shop, and I really, really don’t want to, either. All those thoughts quickly get put on the backburner, though, as a horrible, truly dastardly issue crops up upon Arlo taking his phone out.

“They don’t, uh, make three-way earbuds, do they?”

“I’m sure someone does. Whether they’re any good or not, though…” I answer, barely managing to take the question seriously.

“I’ll… look it up later,” he half-mumbles, sliding his phone into the center of the table. “But first, I’ll get you guys that water. Just play the music out the speakers I guess. Good luck fighting Brisk to the death over what song, though.”

Is that how it usually goes between them?

It takes mere milliseconds for me to find out that yes, it is. Before I can even look back to where the phone was left, it’s gone. Already in the tabby’s grabby little paws. He’s tapping rapidly on the screen, gaze flicking up to me as he presumably hits “Enter.”

“You like Britney?”

“…Spears?”

“Spears.”

“I think most people do.”

“Not that fucking freak.” He hisses, sounding a little too serious as he waves the phone in the direction of the raccoon who can clearly hear everything, which is doubly proven when the cabinet slams harder than necessary.

“You’re diabolical.” Arlo snaps, pulling open the fridge.

“See!?”

“Um, sure?”

“Well, whatever. Looks like I can outvote him easier now, at least.”

“Do you… not like his music? Like, at all?”

“It’s not that. It’s more like he doesn’t like mine.”

“Not true!” Arlo complains, almost spilling the water pitcher. “I just like my stuff, and you like yours, and there’s very little overlap!”

Seems fair.

“Well, I won this round either way,” Brisk mocks, sticking his hyperpop tongue out at the emo punk raccoon. “So, Carli? Any requests?”

“…Circus?”

“Very funny_._ We were absolute fucking clowns back there.”

“I’d say you still are acting like one.” Arlo interrupts, returning with the glasses rather precariously.

“Cry about it.” Brisk chuckles, pressing play.

“There’s only two types of people in the world

The ones that entertain, and the ones that observe”

It’s as familiar as always. Brisk seems really happy about it, and like any sane person, Arlo starts tapping out the rhythm on the table, so I think I did a good job? After a few more seconds, Brisk clicks the screen off and sets the phone face-down on the table, revealing the event horizon. Which is to say, Arlo’s phone case, which is a literal event horizon. I still remember when we decided to browse through the cases at a bargain store just because they were there. The packaging called the design a “black hole,” and it reminded him of the Soundgarden song, so he bought it. It’s flimsy, cheap, and yet has somehow survived up until this point.

Settling back in my chair, I end up draining my glass much faster than I was expecting. When I tip it up again and get nothing, I blink down at it in surprise, but that doesn’t last long. Arlo sweeps by as soon as he notices, getting me a refill, and takes the opportunity to swipe his phone from an unguarded Brisk as he does.

“Fuck! You better let the song finish!”

“I’ve never not done that?”

“Sorry. Habit.”

“Those siblings of yours are as cruel as ever, eh?”

“You have siblings?” I ask.

Brisk looks over at me, his expression stormy. “Hm? Yeah. I guess I never mentioned them to you? Shit, we might need to settle down for some girls’ talk, effective immediately. Petition to make Arlo take the guest bed?”

“Hey! This is my damn house!”

“And what about it? You gonna top us both and make the decision yourself?” Brisk spits, smiling an utterly evil smile.

“Do NOT say it like that!!!”

How… How on earth am I supposed to progress a conversation like this? The way I’m several layers apart from them both as they banter without any hesitation is all too obvious, and the… er, hornier subject matter Brisk doesn’t pull any punches over isn’t something I’m mentally equipped to handle this early in our… everything. Struggling to keep my head together past the dirty jokes and my lingering headache, I end up balling my shirt up in a fist, staring into the void, until-

“Carliii. I’m gonna put some Linkin Park on. Any requests?”

“Huh?” I mumble, snapping to attention.

“…You okay?”

“I’m, um… I’m…”

Before I can get myself together, they’re both there.

“Sorry, were we talking too fast? You said your head hurt, right?” Brisk asks, reaching up to my forehead to test my temperature.

“I, uh, I guess this might be a bit much for you, huh?” Arlo nervously half-chuckles, setting the phone down in front of me as he lays a hand on either of my shoulders. “Here, you take control of the music. Less arguments that way. That okay, Brisk?”

“Don’t ask me,” he mumbles, taking his hand back when he figures out I’m not running a fever. “I’ve never heard any of Carli’s stuff before.”

This is a different type of stress, but I think it’s one I can handle better, if nothing else. Even more so if Arlo were to say, stay the way he is… It seems his joke about keeping things balanced has already been forgotten, and that’s my fault, I guess, but I don’t care right now. Taking a breath to calm myself down, I navigate to my playlist and scroll through, trying to figure out what artist I should go with. Porter Robinson catches my eye this time, so I try to replay the album in my head while looking at the track list, and decide that Hear the Bells is the most likely to not receive a complaint. The melody fades in, and everyone settles back into their seats. When the vocals hit, I honestly don’t know what they’re saying for a bit… and then a part I do recognize starts.

“It’s so far from me now

But oh I can hear the sounds

It’s so far from me now

But oh I can hear the sounds”

The beat drops by the time I’ve emptied my second glass of water, and when I look up, Brisk and Arlo both are leaning back in their chairs, eyes closed and just… listening.

“Um…”

“Oh, what’s up?” Arlo answers, snapping out of his stupor.

“I was, uh, thinking about the… bed arrangements, for tonight?”

“Well, you’ve successfully mediated the music, it looks like, so maybe we should defer to you on this too? What do you think, kitty?”

“Hrnh?” Brisk mumbles blearily, hearing his pet name and snapping out of it just as well. “What?”

“You like the song?” Arlo asks, changing the subject for a second.

“Um… yeah. Relaxing. Good job, Carli.”

Praise over my music taste isn’t something I’m very good at handling, unfortunately, so I just flush red and stare at the floor.

“So… what were you saying about the beds?” Arlo repeats, making me look back up.

“Why is he in charge of that?” Brisk interrupts.

“Shit, you really didn’t hear me, then. I just said that Carli did a good job choosing a song, so why not let him choose the beds, too?”

“Oh… Well, as long as he doesn’t put me in the guest room…”

He’s so adamant about that. It almost makes me not want to say what I’ve decided on, just to get back at him, but it’s best to leave it, because I’m tired as hell now that my headache’s going away.

“I’ll take the guest bed. You and R can have his room.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?” Arlo instantly questions, in sync with Brisk shouting “Deal!”

“I just figured you two might have a lot to talk about, since I kinda made a… a nuisance of myself today and… and I’m really tired. Aaand I’m probably going to get up a few times tonight to go to the bathroom thanks to all this water…” I explain, trying to list off all my reasoning.

Arlo’s face crumples a bit when I call myself a “nuisance,” but he looks me in the eyes anyway. “Sure, if that’s what you want. I call dibs on you first the next time you stay over, though.”

“Hey! What about all the catch-up we have to do!?”

“Argue with Carli about it.”

“…No. I’ve done enough to him today. Fine. You win. So, um, are you heading to bed now, Carli?”

“I kinda want to, yeah.” I admit.

“Good night, then. See you tomorrow.”

“Um, yeah. Night. Both of you.” I say, retreating to the familiar room shortly after.

☀–☼

“Fuck, I wanted to kiss him again.”

“I know, right? But he looked like he would actually collapse if we tried.”

-◊-

Unaware of what my… my boyfriends?

No, that just, doesn’t feel right, not yet…

But either way, unaware of what they were whispering about after I left, I plop down into the perfectly acceptable mattress I’ve crashed on many times before. Brisk’s complaints were seriously over-the-top, but it was a little fun to play along with him, I guess.

It’s certainly no surprise that the guy’s a pillow princess. I think, before I start laughing directly into my own pillow for the night.

Not at all what that actually means, of course, but the joke was rattling around in my head the whole time. I had to giggle over it at some point. When I finally come down off my little fit, I heave a small sigh, and sleep is there before I know it.

__________

In my dream, I’m back at one particularly painful day.

I hadn’t heard anything from Arlo for a long while, ever since Brisk swept him away. A week turned into two, and then halfway through the third, he finally fucking called me. Yeah yeah, it was barely over half a month, but that was a completely unprecedented gap compared to anything else between us, ever! It was a really simple call. He barely apologized for the silence, said he was just being taken all over every which way, and then asked me out to dinner.

“Is Brisk coming too?”

“…He said he wanted to see you again, actually, so yeah?”

Me? Why?

“Hiiiii,” comes that voice I’d nearly forgotten through the speaker. “I just got a bonus for the holidays, so I wanted to treat my boy here. He’s been talking nonstop about you, so I figured it’d be nice for us all to get together!”

He’s just being nice. I’d convinced myself, having totally forgotten about the cat’s lethal powers of perception.

“Alright then, where am I heading?”

“Ah, I’ll pick you up!” Arlo chirps, back on the mic. “But we’re going to the sushi place that opened up a few months back, ‘Fuji X Grill’.”

Still using the joke that the crossed chopsticks in the logo are supposed to be part of the name, I see.

It’s just Fuji Grill. The place is definitely just called Fuji Grill. It’s also a sushi and hibachi place, but that’s beside the point.

The memory smash-cuts to the horrors right away. Of us being seated, and Brisk climbing right into Arlo’s lap, acting as cute as can be. Of him playing footsie with the raccoon, apparently hitting a sensitive spot I obviously never got to find out about when Arlo’s knee flies up and collides with the underside of the table. Of him idly stroking Arlo’s tail while casually asking me about anything he could think of. Of his hands on every little part of my friend imaginable. On every little part of the man I love imaginable. Of him curling up in Arlo’s lap, claiming that the food coma was approaching.

All with that devil’s smile on his face.

And even worse than anything the villainous catboy could ever do, Arlo himself taking hold of his hand and smiling at him with a purity I’d never get to feel for myself.

It’s a nightmare. An absolute nightmare. Their intimacy plays out in front of me all over again… until it stops being a memory.

Without warning, Brisk clambers across the table and presses his muzzle to mine, and I jerk awake in a confused sweat.

__________

Immediately, something’s off. I have to piss like nobody’s business, but that’s not it. The bed just feels completely wrong. I sit up and swing my arm over to the nightstand, grabbing my phone and clicking on the lock screen. 2:30, but that’s not important. What’s important is the light, which I promptly point to my left.

Pink.

Pink!?

That’s not at all what I was expecting. I could tell someone else was in the bed, but never in a million years did I expect it to be Brisk. It was more likely to be one of Arlo’s parents coming home drunk than Brisk, at least to me.

What the hell was all that complaining about the mattress for??? WHY is he here!?!?

In my shock, I leave the light on his face for so long that he eventually stirs.

“H-Heyyy.” He offers sleepily, pushing himself onto an elbow and shielding his eyes, and another heart-pounding disaster runs me through.

As the covers slip off of him, I smell Arlo. My brain does a complete flip in confusion, but the reason why I smell him is quickly made obvious. I learn for the first time that the cat’s aesthetics stop applying when he’s in a place he’s comfortable, since he’s wearing a pitch black band t-shirt. One of Arlo’s t-shirts. Someone flicks a lighter on in my stomach, and my guts start burning with jealousy. Thankfully, the sight is quickly hidden from me by my lock screen powering off… until I hear shuffling, and then he’s clicked on the lamp on his side of the bed, making it come right back.

“You okay?” He asks, but my eyes are locked to the edgy graphic on his torso. He picks up on this, because of course he does, but when he looks down and realizes what I’m staring at, his eyes dart back up to me and he smiles. It’s not the demon’s grin from my nightmares, though. It’s fucking dazzling. He’s a bit disheveled from sleep, no longer perfectly put together like he always tries to seem, and he looks… he looks beautiful. “I’d call that a success! The oversized t-shirt trick does always work after all! Who would’a thought?”

“Why are you here?” I tactlessly ask, not able to put any thought in past the feelings I’ve suddenly caught.

“To play catch-up?”

“Wha-?”

“Well, the idea was that I’d be doing this in the morning… buuut,” he throws his arms wide. “G’mornin’! Want a hug?”

He can’t be that perceptive, can he?

There’s no way he should’ve been able to intuit that I always want a hug. Arlo doesn’t even know that! I can’t resist those open arms no matter what the truth is, so soon I have what feels like him and the raccoon both wrapped in my arms. He’s radiating heat in the chill of the A/C that I have no idea how this house affords to keep running as low as it does, and I almost feel like crying again… before my bladder manages to distract me from those thoughts with a bomb threat. I pull away from him, and immediately regret it, if only because I’m no good with the cold.

“Bathroom,” I explain. “I have more questions for you though, mister, so don’t you dare go back to sleep.”

“I deserve that, I guess.” I hear him call after me as I rush out of the room.

Now… if I were having a typical midnight piss, I’d probably forgo washing my hands, sorry to all the sanitarians out there, but… there’s a hot guy in my bed this time? For some reason? So I wash up properly after all. My hands are still a little spotty with droplets by the time I’m back, but I point a finger at him anyway.

“What the hell are you doing in the bed that you hate.” I demand of him as he puts on his most innocent look, but he crumbles and sighs after just a few seconds.

“Arlo’s snoring tonight. I can handle this mattress way better than that.”

“Is that true?” I cut in, knowing that he’ll only tell some of the truth if he can get away with it.

“Yeah? Go in there yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you.”

“Then come back to bed, darlin’.” He tries to tease, but I’m still investigating.

“Why are you wearing… that?”

“Comfy.”

“And what about what you said earlier?”

“About what?”

“About the oversized t-shirt trick always working.”

“Do you really want me to spell it all out?” He pouts, finally dropping the pretenses when it becomes clear I’m not letting up.

“Yes.”

“Arlo and I talked for a long time after you went to bed. He’s already planning on getting a bigger mattress, by the way.”

My heart pounds with renewed intensity in the face of the casual revelation, but since it was treated casually, he just keeps talking.

“I usually wear one of his shirts to bed, also, since you’re so obsessed with that little detail. I don’t blame you, either. I figure you’ve probably wanted the same privilege for years- Could you sit down, already?” He asks, patting the bed by his side.

I acquiesce with little resistance, now that he’s being more upfront, but almost rocket right back up when his hand settles on my thigh.

“Sooo… we talked about a bunch of stuff, and then he got all tired, so when I tried to hint at him that I was feeling a little frisky after the stress from the work rush today, he just fucking waved me off and said ‘deal with it yourself’ before passing the fuck out! Can you believe that shit? That’s what you’re in love with, by the way.”

“N-Noted?” I offer, trying to keep things under control.

“So like, I figured I’d crash in here when he started snoring on top of that, and um, try my luck with your morning wood? But, well, you woke up before that, and now that we’re here, and I’m telling you about all this, I feel a little weird. Bad?”

“But not bad enough to take your hand back, I assume?” I say, feeling his claws attempt to pierce through the fabric of my jeans for half a second before he tries to retreat… and then I slam my own hand down on top of it, keeping him in place. “Hold on, now. I’m considering it.”

“WHAT!?” He squeaks aloud, obviously not expecting that, which brings a satisfied little smirk to my face… even past the fact that doing so got him actually poking holes into me. Ow.

“But let me just go over this again, first. You thought you could get away with playing catch-up by climbing into bed with me while I’m not even aware of it, and then asking for, what, a surprise handjob when I woke up?”

“I-I… I definitely wasn’t thinking of asking for anything more than that, if that’s what you mean.” He huffs, and I can feel him shifting his weight back and forth a little more often, now.

“After one kiss?”

“Listen, it wasn’t my greatest idea! You need another, or something? I really am all wound up from work today, and my plans get dumber when I’m horny. Happens to everyone!”

“……”

“……”

“…Any other reasons you feel bad about asking me for this?”

“I thought it was genius, at first, but then thought that maybe gunning for sexy stuff without telling Arlo was the absolute dumbest shit I could ever try. I don’t know how this polyamory business works. I really don’t.”

“We’re in the same boat there. But, um…”

“What?” He asks, when I don’t pick my sentence back up this time.

“I’m sure you noticed this, because you notice everything, but Arlo seemed a bit… like, legitimately possessive of me, back at your work.”

“Hell yeah I did. I’d never seen him like that before, so it was crazy obvious.”

“Yeah… So I don’t think that, this soon, he’d take you making a move on me in secret very lightly?”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

“But what if, like, I made a move on you…?”

“…Go on.”

“I guess what I want to say is, keeping your hands off me is what you’ve gotta do, if you wanna stay safe. But, um, I could still help you out, I think. He’s more likely to forgive me if we frame it that way… er, probably.”

“Not returning the favor is a cardinal sin.” He automatically retorts.

I chuckle. “So true. But if we want this all to last, you might have to leave me hanging, this time. I’ll live, I’m sure. You need it way worse than me anyways, it sounds like.”

“I could just… take care of myself. Done it before.”

“And let all your effort go to waste? No sir, not this time.” I insist, an inexorable flutter of desire working its way up my spine and wrapping around my brain now that I’m trying to get the ball rolling.

“You’re… You’re sure?” He asks, his eyes darting over to me, and I finally let go of his hand so I can squeeze his thigh in return. He tenses up, but I’m not done yet. My other hand reaches for his chin, and he gets the message the moment I get it there, turning his head in my direction so I can kiss him. While I’m there, I scratch underneath his jaw, and a purr rumbles into our makeout session at lightspeed. When he pulls away, he’s already panting.

“Fuck. Holy fuck… How did you know to do that?” He huffs.

But I can only shrug. “I didn’t? It just felt right.”

“Your intuition might be on par with mine, then. Damn.” He swears again, and a new scent reaches my nose: arousal. Ooh, I got him good.

“Looks like I’ve got work to do?” I try, reaching for his waistband, but I get interrupted when he suddenly pulls open the nightstand’s little drawer and retrieves a little foil square, offering it to me.

“Use this?” He asks, more a request than a demand.

“A condom? For a handjob? Um, why?”

Wait, why was that just in there!?

A new layer of blush crawls into his cheeks. “Well, I know it’s not like STDs are a problem nowadays, if, um, you didn’t know.”

He stumbles over his words a lot more when it comes to this stuff. Didn’t expect that. I finally note.

Either way, I may not be sexually active, but I know what science is up to in case I ever were to be. Like now, for instance. “Right. Which is why I’m actually asking.”

“I-It’s… a kink of mine,” he stutters, his face going redder. “Weird, right?”

“I’ve seen a thousand things worse.” I respond with full sincerity.

Condom filling is like, almost vanilla compared to the shit I’ve seen. Never thought I’d meet someone who was actually into it, but I could say that about anything. Honestly, the revelation is just making me wonder what Arlo might be into… but it’s not about him right now.

“And hey,” I add, “doing it this way, we might still be able to call it ‘safer,’ like you’d usually do. Less chance R will smell the aftermath, eh?”

“Christ. Keep talking like that and you’re guaranteed to have no problem getting it on.”

He’s hard, hard, then. I gotta see that. With the request out of the way, I finally get to reach for his waistband. He digs his palms into the mattress so he can push himself up, getting his ass in the air, and I easily yank those sweatpants out of the way. I don’t know what I was expecting his underwear to be, but “none” wasn’t really on the list. Honestly, panties seemed the most likely, what with his whole femmy twink persona, but yeah, now that I think about it again, that was insanely presumptuous of me.

“Commando?”

“N-No,” he mutters. “I tossed all my clothes into Arlo’s hamper before changing, if you’re trying to find out what I do wear.”

The panty raid. My brain quotes, the famous cartoon line echoing in my skull.

“I’ll think about it.” I tease, tearing the condom wrapper open as I get to see another guy’s dick in real life for the first time ever.

His barbed length is impressive, I’d like to say, even though I don’t really have much to compare to. It’s an even brighter shade of pink than his fur, and I think over six inches? But I’ve never really been good at eyeballing stuff. The lamplight reflects off a fat, shining drop of pre at the tip, and I drag my gaze down to his fuzzy white balls, already pulled a bit close to his body in his arousal, where I see… no.

“Is that…?”

“A furmark shaped like a pink heart on the right one? Yup. If you thought my girliepop aesthetic was only surface level, surprise!” He laughs, clearly proud of the little pattern instead of, I dunno, embarrassed? Shy?

That’s fucking incredible. There’s no way I could resist playing with that. But first… I wiggle the condom free, and then drape it right over his tip. If I remember right, I have to pinch the little bit here and hold it steady… but it’s a lot harder to do when the throbbing of what’s underneath is out of your control, turns out. I miss the mark, pinching the whole nub as well as his actual tip, and he hisses aloud, giving another throb that throws everything out of whack again.

“Could you like, hold yourself steady?” I ask, not knowing if this is really something that should be asked.

“So worried Arlo might catch on you won’t do it yourself?”

Oh, right. I guess I could.

“Fair point.” I reply, and then wrap my hand around the middle of his length as gently as I can.

“Hah, shit!” He hisses again. “More riled up than I thought I was.”

That’s a damn shame. I guess our fun won’t last long once I actually get everything ready, then. But, well… this is kinda hot in its own right. With rapidly steadying hands, I manage to roll the whole thing down his length, and he huffs again when I wrap around the slippery entirety of it.

“Um, hey, if I can ask for one more thing…?” He almost whispers, and I look back up to his furiously reddened cheeks. Yes. Absolutely yes. Whatever he asks me, I cannot say no to that face.

“Yeah?”

“Could you, roll it down even further and like… tuck it into my sheath? I know that’s really specific, but it’s… super fucking hot. To… to me.”

“Gotcha.”

I guess I’ll have to wash up to stay safe from Arlo’s nose after all. To make it easier, I hop off the bed and kneel on the floor so I can get a closer look, taking in as many huffs of him as I want while I’m there. It’s the scent of arousal and sweat, the latter of which I guess is from work, implying he didn’t take a shower after I went to bed, but underneath that is his own natural scent. There’s a gentle, extremely subtle sweetness to it, almost like… something that’s right on the tip of my tongue. It calls to mind the holidays, but why? I see a little Christmas tree in my head, but it’s void of any green. It’s like, barely darker than white? Ah, it’s one of those shortbread cookies! That’s what his scent reminds me of! As for why I associate those with Christmas cookies, though, that’s a mystery that really doesn’t need to be solved at the moment.

Satisfied with my sleuthing, I return to the task at hand and carefully pull his sheath even wider with one hand while the other tries to push the rim of the rubber just that little bit deeper. It’s harder than I thought it’d be, but I do get it to work, and the moment I let go of his stretched ring and it tightens around the very end of the condom, leaving a little protrusion in his sheath to match, he’s stifling his gasps by biting down on his own knuckles. Fuck, he’s hot. And cute. Hot and cute.

“Did I get that right, then?” I ask, more a taunt than an actual question.

“Y-Yeah. God, yeah. You can… go for all the normal stuff, now. Thank you.”

“Not a problem.” I answer, way too politely considering I’m about to rub one out for him.

…Holy fucking shit, I never thought I had this in me. And I certainly never thought he would be like this. He’s always given off the vibe that he’s so high above everything, with everyone in the palm of his hand, getting strung along however he likes. But the cat in front of me now has been… hesitant, meek, cautious, like he’s walking on eggshells. It’s such a far cry from the haughty, brutal tease of yore, and… I dunno, for some reason it’s making we want to take control. Badly.

“Normal stuff like… this?” I tease, using my non-dominant hand to squeeze his balls as gently as I can, my thumb rubbing across that little pink heart. His dick throbs and his whole body twitches, so I basically know the answer before he gives it.

“Ah! Agh, yes,” he gasps weakly. “Definitely up there on the list of things you should be doing to me.”

“Fantastic news,” I chuckle, wrapping my other hand around him and finding out that the condom changes things more than I was expecting. Instead of the tighter grip I tend to go for myself, I’m practically forced to keep it loose so I don’t accidentally pull the thing free. It’s much slicker, though, so I’m able to move my hand up and down his whole length without issue. The rubber gives a water balloon-esque squish when I get to the tip, already totally full of the cat’s spurting pre. “Is this alright?”

“Ummm,” he struggles out, trying to make things last despite how badly he needs it right now. “It’s- ah, less sensitive than usual, so you kinda have to try different things. S-Since it has that weak sorta lube on the surface, you can get away with… harder stuff, I guess? Like, for example… you can twist your hand while you go without hurting me? That’s what I usually do…”

Gotcha. I get my wrist in gear on the next upswing, and another gasp followed by his claws digging into the sheets announces my success. It’s kinda like the final piece of the puzzle clicking, learning this particular tactic, and soon my toying with his pouch and spiraling hand get his toeclaws punching into the carpet. I slow down as he blows, watching a tiny liquid avalanche white out the pink mountain I was just playing on as he fills the thing up with an impressive damn load indeed. I retreat once the rubber turns totally opaque, unable to resist taking a deep whiff of that salty shortbread musk on the hand I was using to play with his balls.

“Good god in heaven, Carli. I needed that,” he hisses, and my heart does a whole flip in my chest upon hearing the praise. “Now, uh… I’m gonna do another thing that’s probably weird, so… look away if you think it’s gross?”

That description is just enough to clue me in on what he’s talking about, and I decide that I definitely want to see it happen, actually. With a lazy smile on my face, I watch him stand up, tilt his slowly-deflating dick down, and carefully slide the condom off. His seed pools at the bottom of it pretty quickly, and he looks at me one more time, embarrassment clear on his face as I show no signs of averting my gaze… and then tilts his head back, bringing the opening to his maw and pulling the thing taut. He pours his own cum into his mouth, darting his tongue around inside in search of more, even, and swallows.

“Fucking… hell.” He breathes, looking at me squirm watching him.

I’ve been leaking like a faucet into my boxers for a while now, to the point where I know any too-sudden movement or attempt to adjust my junk will immediately leave me dealing with the uncomfortable chill of my drying pre squishing all over my sensitive bits. Speaking of those bits, I’m pitching just about the biggest tent of my life, but like I said earlier, I’ll live. I smile at him again when I see his nose twitch, catching my own arousal in the air, most likely. With a held-up hand, I ask for help, and he pulls me up off the floor… and I make my last move for the night. As I get my feet back under me, I pull him close, holding him by the wrist while my other hand settles on his shoulder, and I kiss him.

“Mmmph?” He hums against me in shock, very, very unprepared for it, and his wriggling only gets worse when my tongue darts out, poking through the gap at the front of his muzzle that all cats tend to have.

Alas, even exploiting his weakness, I’m just as quickly stopped by his teeth. Sure, my judgement is absolutely being clouded by the lingering heat suffusing my face and brain alike, but I’ve decided I want a taste, without any regard for the fact that I, obviously, don’t have a toothbrush here. I can drown out cum breath with coffee if it comes to that, right?

No?

Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, because he doesn’t open up for me. A little upset with the results, I try moving my hand from his shoulder to his chin to make it even clearer that I want this, and he finally relaxes. “If you insist,” I can almost hear him saying were he capable, and my grip on his wrist loosens just enough for him to pull away and drape his arms around my neck instead as the kiss finally goes French. Not knowing where else to put it, my freed hand settles on his hip.

Hell, I never thought my first French kiss was going to be with Brisk, of all fucking people, but what can I say? He got me worked up enough to want it. Need it, even. As I search his maw for any little saltiness he might’ve missed, I wonder idly if this is still considered snowballing. It’s not like I’ve ever attempted to look up the dictionary definition, if there even is one, so it’s hard to say. Eventually, I’m satisfied with my work, and we both pull away gasping for air.

“I… I think I’m running out of swear words, Carli,” he complains, going totally limp now that the fire between us is finally free to die down. “But fuck me if I’m not gonna sleep good now.”

“Don’t think Arlo would let us get away with that one.” I point out, and he laughs aloud.

It’s super cute, and I realize that it’s the first time he’s done that in front of me. Or at least, the first time when it’s just been us two, which I guess makes sense, since this is the first time that’s ever happened, as well. Whatever. What matters is that my heart’s hammering away yet again over the sight, but then… then, he freezes up, all of a sudden, and looks down at his hands.

“Where’d the condom go?”

“Dropped it on the floor, probably. I don’t think you have to worry about any spills, though. You were pretty thorough.”

“Guess you’re right about that,” he laughs again, dropping onto all fours and squinting at the carpet in the dimness. “Ah, there it is.”

“How exactly are you gonna get rid of that?”

“Guess I’ll just throw it in the trashcan in Arlo’s room? Surely he won’t notice one more in there. Ah, is that TMI?”

“I really, really don’t think I can say it is after what I just did. Um, thanks for letting me get away with it, by the way.”

“Well, I was trying to keep things discreet like you wanted, but I couldn’t say no after you insisted like that.”

“Good to… know?”

“Might wanna go wash those hands now, and maybe rinse that… fantastic fucking mouth of yours, too. I have to make a trip to Arlo’s room anyway. Meet back here?”

“Aye aye, sir. Gotta hit the bathroom again anyways. All that water, y’know.”

“TMI.” He jokes.

–☀–

“G’mornin’! Want a hug?” Comes Brisk’s voice through the door I’ve been camping in my attempt to catch the criminal red-handed.

A creaking of bedsprings that could be anything tickles my ears, but at this precise moment, the sound is my cue.

“Aha!” I shout, swinging the door open to the sight of those two little infidels wrapped tight ’round each other. “So that’s where you went! Cheating on me already? I’m gonna need some good morning hugs of my own if you want me to think otherwise.”

They rocket apart as though I’d thrown a venomous snake into the extremely small gap they had between them, and that’s all I need to be satisfied.

“What happened?” I ask Brisk as the both of them scramble over, fighting to wrap their arms around me. “Was I snoring again?”

“Exactly right. And I’ll happily let you invite Carli into your bed whenever he stays over next, since I snuck away like this. Not mad?”

“Hmm, well… I’m a little jealous, but I’d rather you do anything other than sleep on the couch. Your back deserves better. So, yeah! Not mad.”

“Oh good.” He replies, leaning in to give me a kiss and promptly finding himself at arm’s length.

“Ack! Morning breath!” I half-seriously complain, making him pout.

“Huh? Come onnn. That hasn’t stopped you in like, forever.”

“But if you kiss me, then I’ll have to give Carli one to balance things out. Are you sure you want to subject him to a morning breath kiss?”

Carli jolts from where I’ve tucked him into my side, likely imagining the horrors, and Brisk steps back, pouting even harder this time.

“Guess I don’t.”

“Thought so. Now, breakfast plans!” I shout, letting Carli go so I can clap my hands together for emphasis, but before I can continue-

“Sheesh! I thought you were never gonna let go of him.” Brisk teases, making me hold the arm that was just around the vole up to my face. I flex my fingers a few times, confused over what he means. It’s not like I held onto Carli that much longer than him, right?

“Um, oops?” I offer sheepishly, turning my sights back on Carli regardless. My kitty… or is he “our” kitty, now? already knows about what I’m gonna say next, after all. “But as I was saying… You’re in luck, Carli. Get this. Ma made pancakes yesterday morning as my last gift from her before they left on their trip, and we’ve still got some in the fridge.”

“Reheated, leftover pancakes,” Carli monotones, letting the phrase hang in the air as though begging me to reconsider what I said… but soon he’s smiling. When I’m right, I’m right. “Michelin 3 stars. No notes.”

“Atta boy!” I cheer, ruffling the fur on both their heads before leading the charge to the kitchen.

While I’m fishing the plastic containers out of the fridge and pondering what amount of time will be best to make the microwave complete its valiant mission, we argue over the same things as yesterday. Seating arrangements, who’s in charge of the music. That stuff. Brisk manages to appeal to my jealousy over him getting to share a bed with Carli, turning the joke on me and saying that our “time together has been unbalanced, so surely there’s no problems if you take the middle seat and let us cuddle up on either side now, hm?,” and I accept. After that, though, he busies himself with begging our dying coffee machine to spit out three more mugs, at least.

“Your seat, sir,” he’s soon joking to Carli while I grab the syrup, pulling out a chair and offering it to him like he’s a waiter at the aforementioned Michelin 3 star restaurant, “Château d'Welch,” otherwise known as my house. “Might I ask what kind of backdrop you’d like for your meal? Pop? Rock? Pop? Death Metal?”

“I think I should get the rights to music, considering your cruel actions last night.” I claim, not really meaning it, but instead of the counterarguments I was expecting, they relent immediately.

Huh. I didn’t think they felt that bad about the whole deal, but I guess they do? Well, if it wins me the speakers, it wins me the speakers. Ah, speaking of which… Carli offers his phone, since I’d forgotten mine in my room in my panic to figure out where Brisk disappeared to, and I announce the sad news.

“Oh, by the way. Tried to look up three-way earbuds last night and didn’t have any luck. Our best bet is a bluetooth speaker for better sound quality, but like… we can’t exactly use it whenever, right? Blasting anything in public is generally frowned upon, or whatever. Might even irritate my folks if we play it at whatever they consider ‘unholy hours’.”

“Devastating, truly,” Brisk mocks. “I dunno, I think I’d be willing to sit out an American Football marathon if you really want to listen to them with Carli at like 3 AM or whatever.”

“Non-negotiable,” I retort, loading them up on shuffle as revenge and letting the instrumentation ring out. “You gotta be there with me in my moments of vulnerability.”

“Then let’s just hope the low volume setting on whatever we get is actually good so we can get away with it even in the wee hours.” He chuckles, readying the next coffee pod and receiving a groaning complaint from the ancient artifact as he presses the button.

“I’ll need both of you to help with that,” I admit, setting the tower of freshly irradiated pancakes in the middle of the table and then swinging back around to grab plates and silverware so we can pick and choose our own. “I’m not as good with computers as either of you, even if it is just reading the specs or reviews or whatever on online stores.”

“We could just go to an actual tech store?” Carli suggests, like a complete genius.

“Holy shit. That’s so true.”

“Like, I know buying stuff online is convenient, but if it’s that important to you… or, rather, to us…” He says, trailing off with a blush that makes me short-circuit again.

It’s so… odd. I’ve seen him get flustered countless times in my life without having any reaction, but ever since yesterday it’s been frying my brain each time. Now that I know how he feels, how he’s felt… there’s this fucked up little needle in my heart, jabbing me over every expression I see him make that I surely misinterpreted all those times before. And each stab is like a sadistic little push, trying to make me step forward, make me give him everything I imagine he must’ve wanted, all that time…

It’s not a feeling I’m used to, but I like it, so maybe I’m a masochist? Alas, morning breath keeps me at bay.

“Sounds like a plan to me… but you wanted to hit the cherry blossom festival again with Brisk today, right?”

“And I want to hit that festival, too. There’s some guys I know running a stall there I’ve got some words for.” Brisk hints, darkly.

He’s as confusing as always. There’s a deadly seriousness in his tone, but the way he’s already snuck ahead of me in this whole polyamory deal and spent a night with Carli feels like a clear indicator that he’s enjoying it… Then again, I’ve never been good at seeing through any of his acts, so maybe that’s just on me.

“Well,” Carli half-mutters, “if we don’t spend too long there, we could probably do both. Brisk, um, told me that you were already trying to find out how to buy a bigger bed last night, so we could maybe look around at some stores like that, too?”

Fuck! I wanted to tell him that!

I shoot daggers at Brisk, and he stiffens up, blinking slow. “Oh. I didn’t know you wanted to tell him, love.”

“I guess that’s… fine. I got to talk about the speaker, so sure. Telling him about the bed balances out,” I grumble, giving up and taking my seat. “But hitting up a furniture store or whatever can wait. I don’t wanna overwhelm you with too much stuff like we accidentally did yesterday.”

Can’t spend too long arguing, either, or I’ll have to risk blowing the pancakes up with a second round in the microwave. Brisk had set up all the seats, not just Carli’s, so I take the one in the middle as we agreed, immediately draping my arm around the vole’s shoulder and pulling him close all over again. Nervously, he hooks an arm around my back, his hand inadvertently landing on a ticklish spot just below my ribs. I jolt, but try to pretend I didn’t. Maybe that was a bad idea, though, because he pokes me again, earns himself another twitch, realizes what the problem is, and lowers his hand a bit.

Oh how I love him. Sweet, merciful him. Brisk would’ve kept doing that for an age.

Speaking of Brisk, he’s settling down on my right just a few seconds later, his own mug finally freed from the endless trickling of that infernal contraption. He pours his witches’ brew of additives into it, takes a sip, nods, sets it down, and then nuzzles up to me, almost making my coffee go everywhere, since I’m still holding it. I smile over at him even as I struggle to keep it from spilling over, and carefully set it down once the crisis is averted, using my freed hand to scratch under his chin and tease out that purr of his I love.

“I know you put this on to dig at me,” he eventually complains, calling me out, “but can’t you play something else? I feel like I’m about to fall back asleep, and that’s the last thing I need right now.”

As he asks, he squeezes closer and nuzzles up under my chin, as if the extremely cute gesture will make me more lenient, which it obviously does. He has a point, this time. When I said I put them on for my moments of vulnerability, I meant it. It’s all melancholy and chill as hell.

I ask Carli to pass me the phone, since my arms are occupied, and it’s soon pressed into my left hand. Trying to get it into view without letting go of either of them, however, ends up with me taking the whole vole for a ride, pulling him so near that his flicking ear settles right up against what I only realize after he arrives is my frantically pounding heart. His eyes go wide, his blush gets even worse, and I need to stop looking before I think about kissing him again.

Ah, too late.

Resist the urge then. That’s what I’ve gotta do.

I angle the phone down so he can see the screen too, since I’ve accidentally dragged him into this situation.

“Um, any ideas?” I ask him, and he meekly reaches up his free hand to start scrolling through my playlist.

“Good Charlotte?”

“Ah, that’ll work!” I agree, looking at the section he stopped on and tapping on Mountain.

“Whoaaaaa!

All these dreams and all these plans

I built them all with these two hands”

It’s far more energetic, even if the lyrics kind of lose the joy later, and I immediately feel a little more pumped… which coincidentally feeds me just enough excitement to make me forget myself and lean down to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Good choice.”

Ah, I instantly think, realizing what I’ve done. But that much should be fine, right?

He squeaks in surprise, which just makes me want to do it again even through my shock at how naturally the gesture came to me, but I catch myself and finally release him outright. He doesn’t exactly spring back into place like I was half-expecting him to, leaving his head where it is for a bit, but soon enough I feel his arm trying to find purchase so he can push himself back up… because he gets my tail caught between it and the seat.

“Ow!”

That gets him springing back into place much quicker, immediately yanking his hand back and making all his other muscles help him up instead.

“Fuck! Sorry!”

“’S’fine,” I respond, laying my hand on his head as Brisk automatically reaches over to pat my bushed-up fur back down. “Not the first time you’ve accidentally done that. Probably not the tenth time, even.”

“Well, like… yeah, but I never feel any less bad about it.”

“So I can have a kiss too to balance things out, right?” Brisk asks, sparing me from entering an apology loop. My arm settles back over Carli’s shoulder as I turn to answer him.

“You think you’ve already tipped the scales back over?”

“Probably not, but it’s not like that’ll stop me from wanting one?”

“Oh, fine,” I relent, giving him a kiss on the cheek before I try to reach for my silverware and realize there’s still a whole cat in between my hand and it. “Man, it’s hard to eat when both your arms are occupied.”

“Finally noticed?” He giggles, peeling himself away from me. “Well, count yourself lucky. I herded Carli to your left because I figured you’d need your right hand eventually. So here you go. I’ve set you free so you can have your breakfast and get that cuddle time with him you wanted.”

“Implying you cuddled with him without me last night, I see.”

“Well, you did barge in on us hugging, so you basically knew that much, right?” He points out, picking up his own fork and swiping the first pancake off the stack.

“...S’pose I did.” I admit, but despite the offer to keep Carli pressed up against me, I need both my hands regardless, so I reluctantly relinquish him. I’ll be putting it right back once I’ve gotten things taken care of, though.

Thankfully, the pancakes were insulating each other, so they’re still at an acceptable temperature, and we finally, actually start eating.

~** ☼ ***~*

“Holy shit. This rules.” I immediately decide, taking in the ocean of pinks that is the cherry blossom festival.

It’s fucking adorable, and so over-the-top that I might even be spared from a few glances from strangers over my fur color since I blend in so well. Now, if their attention gets caught by my outfit instead, I’d have no complaints. Then again, even if I did catch some eyes, well… Sorry boys! Ladies, too! I’m taken! Twice over, even!

Though, well, I guess we could still be keeping things open, actually. No need to stop at three if someone really special comes along, or something along those lines? Guess we’ll have to discuss that at some point.

In case anyone was curious, after we had breakfast, got ready, and headed for the car, Carli and I decided it was best to have me sit up in Arlo’s passenger seat like I’d been doing, still feeling like we needed to tip the scales back toward him after last night. We also reasoned it out to the thankfully unsuspecting raccoon by saying that since Carli was borrowing one of his shirts, it’d be more ‘balanced’ this way. The vole didn’t exactly bring a change of clothes with him yesterday, seeing as how not a single thing that’d happened then had been planned for in the absolute fucking slightest, so he’s still wearing the same jeans from before, but this time they’re being accented by one of Arlo’s extremely rare gray band shirts. That was a little suggestion of my own that he was happy to go with, because let’s face it, a couple – er, throuple – where two of them are wearing the same color and leaving the third out is even more tacky than a regular couple wearing matching outfits, let alone matching black band tees. Fashion faux pas beyond all comprehension, that.

It’s warmer than it was yesterday, which saves me from freezing my ass off in my shorts of choice, yay me, and it also means that the jacket Carli was wearing before is currently tied around his waist. It’s a good look on him – well, I guess it’s a good look on anyone, in my book, and it almost makes me want to shed tears of joy that there’s finally a sense of fashion beyond “Hot Topic Psychopath” in my immediate area. Not to say that “Hot Topic Psychopath” is a bad look, mind. Arlo makes it look hotter than just about anyone on the planet, and it’s not close… though that may just be my personal opinions on him in general sneaking in.

As for me, I coordinated in my own way. Arlo’s shirt was swapped out from a black Escape the Fate shirt to a black Pierce the Veil shirt, and we managed to dig out that gray Linkin Park tee for Carli, so I repped an artist of my own, picking out my white “Oops!… I Did It Again” Britney baby tee. We look a bit like a monochrome gradient if we line up right, which is just quirky enough for me to give a pass, but only because we can avoid that look by keeping Arlo or me in the middle. I’m the one in the middle right now (Surprise, I’m the most excited for this!), and it feels kinda great to be dragging two boys behind me on my impending shopping spree, I gotta say.

That being said, their visit from yesterday is also coming quite in handy for spending our limited time here efficiently, since we also wanna hit up a store for that bluetooth speaker of our dreams at some point. My boys take me on a zigzag through the food stalls they decided were the best, and soon enough I’m about to explode. I will never, ever be able to keep up with the people who can just chow down on festival food ad infinitum, sadly. My ultimate target is finally coming into view at the end of the deep-fried road, though. The Pride of Mistford stall, where my unsuspecting victims are about to catch all the strays I have on offer.

There they are. Joel, Esai, and Shay. The polycule to end all polycules… until I gain some more ground in the field, that is.

Looking for opponent. I love my little boys more than you do. I think, quoting a meme that probably isn’t as popular as my enjoyment of it wants me to believe.

Now, time to get my revenge. I put on my most dangerous face, and start power-walking over to their stall. Their smiles are as bright as if I were anyone approaching them, and they recognize me, I’m sure… and then spot Carli trailing behind. Esai’s face goes all wonky as my own expression gets clearer the closer I get, I assume, and soon I’m slamming my paw down on the counter.

“Esai,” I hiss, laying my ears back and exposing every last one of my teeth, using my other hand to point behind me. “What did you tell him?”

The lizard recoils, his face scrunching up even further, and his partners are equally frozen in shock. He looks right past me and straight at Carli, a look of utter devastation on his face. It’s… actually fucking heartbreaking, and I instantly regret my decision to be a little bitchy as a joke. It only gets worse when I feel Carli’s hand landing on my shoulder, silently demanding I back off, and my character crumbles.

“Aww, already?” I whine, laying the hand I was using to point at him atop his own and squeezing. “I wanted to scare them a little longer.”

“Good lord,” Esai gasps, his hand flying to his chest. “I thought I was on my deathbed, there. What the hell is actually going on here?”

“Real talk? A total fucking mess,” I declare, feeling Carli’s cringe all the way down to his fingertips. “But… it’s a good mess. After your little, shall we say ‘lesson,’ yesterday, I got totally jumped by these two. They blubbered up a goddamn storm, but in my infinite wisdom and kindness, I heard them out. We’re trying out the whole polyamory thing, testing the waters, and it’s all thanks to you.”

“Thanks to me in a good way.” Esai hazards tonelessly, prodding me for confirmation.

“Mmmmyeah!” I eventually decide, squeezing Carli’s hand again. “It’s been messy as all hell so far, but fun!”

“...That’s wonderful news, then!” He shouts, clapping his hands together and finally brightening up. “I’m so happy for you guys! Just remember, honest and open communication is beyond critical. Right, Shay? Joel?”

His partners, no longer stunned, nod vigorously.

“Yeah!”

“Absolutely.”

Well, we haven’t exactly been doing the greatest at that so far, but let’s just keep that swept under the rug for now.

“Yes, yes. I’m beyond happy for you three,” Esai continues, then tilts his head to the side. “But, um, where is your third?”

Huh? “Huh?” I think and say at the same time, shooting to attention and swinging my head from side to side while Carli does the same. Esai is right. Arlo’s not here. “Carli. Did we somehow fucking LOSE him!?”

“I… I… It certainly looks that way…”

“You two sure?” Joel interrupts. “Ain’t that him a couple stalls down?”

We follow his pointing finger, trailing diagonally back the way we came, and sure enough, our sore-thumb goth raccoon boy is at some kind of boutique stall, talking to the keeper. As if he can feel everyone’s eyes on him, he shoots up ramrod straight and turns to look at us. He says a few more words to the stallkeeper, raises a hand in parting, and jogs over, at the very least having the decency to look appropriately embarrassed.

“Am I in trouble or something?” He asks as he arrives, but before anyone tries to answer, he keeps talking. “Um, l-listen, you two. They have… um… they have these like, really cool necklaces at that stall over there. And… um, I was wondering if you might wanna, well, look at them with me? I, er, thought it might be nice if we like, got matching accessories…”

That’s just about one of the last things I ever expected Arlo of all people to suggest… and it earns him a full round of applause from the pride stall.

“Did I… do something?” He weakly chirps, blushing in the face of what’s honestly a rather reserved reaction from a bunch of gays.

“Saved your ass, is what you did!” Joey laughs. “Your boys here were about to absolutely trounce you for disappearin’, but if you show up with an explanation like that, how could anyone stay mad?”

He’s right. I can feel a blush of my own creeping up just turning the raccoon’s words over again.

“That’s like, the cutest shit ever.” Shay gushes, and Esai nods in agreement with him.

“I-Is it?” Arlo all but squeaks.

“Kinda, yeah.” “100%.” Carli and I respond in unison, exchanging a look with each other and devolving into laughter.

While we get out all our giggles and pull ourselves together, Arlo’s eyes dart between everyone present, still totally bewildered. Once we’re done, he points back to the stall he was at. “So… Did you wanna go?”

“Yes, love,” I reply, reaching for his hand. “Carli?”

“U-Um… Yeah. Yes.”

With that decided, we awkwardly excuse ourselves from the pride tent, letting Arlo string us along to what’s caught his interest.

“Welcome back!” The lady running the stall says, right as my eyes wander down to the nametag saying “Hi! My Pronouns are They/Them” and I rectify my mistake in my head. Kicking the gender binary will probably be a bitch-and-a-half forever, that’s for sure.

“Hey!” I trill, looking between them and Arlo. “What’s happening here, then?”

“Well, your friend was looking at my necklaces earlier. I do paint pours, primarily, and then make jewelry out of the byproducts. I have my bigger paintings here, of course, in case you’d like one of those for your home.” They explain, prompting me to look around at the vibrant, swirling art pieces that are hanging from the grates they’ve set up on all the walls. The price tags on them are very likely to scare me, though, so I just appreciate them from afar.

“Yeah, these over here!” Arlo calls, having already moved to the display where said jewelry is pinned. “There’s other stuff too, but, yeah. I was thinking necklaces. Is that okay with the two of you?”

“Hm?” I question, before seeing the options. “Oh, sure.”

Carli looks down at his chest, where his rainbow ring on a cord always sits, as far as I’ve ever seen. “I… I guess that’s alright, yeah. I could use something besides this.”

There’s also bracelets, charms, key chains, rings, and earrings in addition to the necklaces, and every last one of them is pretty in their own unique way. The necklaces are all pendants, some of them rectangles, most of them circles that are slightly larger than a quarter, the painted designs forever preserved under a rounded… I dunno, clear resin of some kind? That’s what this stuff is usually called, right? Small speakers are set up on either end of the table, playing a Billie Eilish song. I don’t know which one it is, though, since my expertise on her in particular stops at Bad Guy. In my defense, the full album’s only been out for a few weeks… and then my defense is invalidated when Carli steps up beside me to look as well, obviously recognizing the song since he’s muttering the lyrics to himself.

“So where did you go?

I should know, but it’s cold

And I don’t want to be lonely

So tell me you’ll come home”

Okay, fine. I’ll listen to the album later. But for now, I lean in to start sorting through the pendants.

The first one that catches my eye is primarily pink, with colors speckled all around, making it look kinda like a giant tutti-frutti jelly bean. I ease it off the hook around all the others that were in front of it, taking it as my initial selection, and soon another is dangling in front of my face. It’s black, marking it immediately as the one Arlo must’ve been interested in when he was here before. As I look up a little further, his familiar hand cements my assumption.

But back down at the pendant… streaks and bubbles of red and white, and little outlines of purple that I can only see when I really squint are what make up this one, and I give him a “That one?” in lieu of a real reaction before we present them to Carli, who’s been sifting through the hooks that weren’t being occupied by us at a snail’s pace. He leans in to get a good look at them out of courtesy, but I can already see a sort of… deadness in his eyes.

“Something up?” I ask him, but Arlo’s the one who answers.

“Oh, there might be, actually. Carli’s an artist himself, and he kinda… has this thing about colors. We might like, actually be pissing him off like this?”

“How so?”

“Well…” The vole begins, looking like he’s searching hard for the right words. “When you’re picking out stuff like this… You want something that’ll catch people’s attention, right?”

I certainly do, but whether Arlo cares or not… I glance over at him, and he’s nodding fast, as if Carli is an ancient sage dispensing the truths of the world right now.

“Looks like it.” I answer for the both of us.

“Then, um, in that case… Brisk, yours would get completely drowned out by your fur. That’s why I’ve never seen you in any pink tops, right?”

Perceptive. Once again I’m overjoyed by the fact that there’s finally some fashion sense to go around besides me, but I just nod.

“And Arlo… Literally 97% of all of your clothes are black.”

“Did you fucking run the calculations at some point!?”

“No.”

“Oh. Continue.”

“It makes sense that you guys did this if I’m right, but… did you just pick out colors you like?”

“Well, yeah.” I reply, already starting to see the error of my ways.

“You can still do that of course,” Carli quickly corrects as if under threat, even though we went over how I’ve never hated him yesterday. Old habits, I guess. “But you should be looking for those colors in the smaller details, I feel, and take a predominant color that’ll actually stand out.”

“They’re right,” the other artist in the room, AKA the stallkeeper, adds. “Nothing stopping you guys from trying some on if that’ll help, by the way. My packaging isn’t exactly the most secure, so you can just slip the clasp out through the gaps and unhook ’em.”

“Ah, thank you,” I automatically reply before turning right back to Carli. “So, um… what would you suggest?”

“Sky blue, for you, or whatever’s closest,” he immediately says, and I can only assume that he’s been thinking about this for the entirety of our time browsing based on that speed. “And Arlo, red stands out nicely on black.”

“Ahh, the color of blood,” the raccoon dramatically booms, wiggling his fingers like a cartoon villain reaching for the prize they’ve been seeking throughout the entirety of the movie’s runtime before using them to squeeze both Carli’s cheeks. “I believe you.”

The vole wriggles his way free with a blush, turning his attention to the rack again to hide his embarrassment.

“Anything I can do to help search?” I ask, stepping up to his side, but he’s already comparing them three at a time, locked the fuck in, and the stock has a clear limit, so it’s kinda pointless.

“Hand me the ones you picked out.” He says, holding out a hand without even looking up.

When they’re in his grasp, he starts comparing them to all the others on display, and Arlo and I have no choice but to sit back and wait. Bouncing on my heels, I idly slip my hand into Arlo’s back pocket and squeeze his ass in my boredom, getting the familiar jolt of surprise that I do it for in the first place and retreating innocently. My ears prick towards the speakers as a new song starts and a much more familiar beat hits.

“We are the crowd

We’re c-coming out

Got my flash on, it’s true

Need that picture of you

It’s so magical

We’d be so fantastical”

Hellooo Gaga. I think with a tiny smile, listening for when the chorus hits and mumbling it myself.

“I’m your biggest fan, I’ll follow you until ya love me. Papa- Paparazzi~”

I don’t actually know the entirety of the lines leading up to the next “Papa- Paparazzi,” though, so I just hum until there. Time drags on and on as Carli stays laser-focused, but eventually he straightens up with his choices, and I can almost imagine his spine complaining. He’s even a little sweaty, but that’s probably mostly the heat’s fault, even if we are in the shade. His selections are hidden in his fist, obviously wanting to go for a one-by-one reveal, and Arlo’s comes out first.

The background is entirely composed of a darkish red, with black paint spiderwebbing thin patterns through it that makes it look cracked, or even shattered. There’s also some tiny specks of yellow dotted about in there, and even a few silvery ones, if I look real close.

“The color of blood!” Arlo cheers, throwing his arms to the sky in celebration as he refuses to drop the joke as usual. “So you think this is the one, huh?” He then asks, apparently not entirely sold on it, but I can already see the appeal.

“Yes, definitely.” I enthusiastically agree, nay, basically demand.

Fuck, that’ll look good on him. Which means I can trust Carli with mine, no problem.

He passes the pendant to Arlo, then squirrels the one he’s chosen for me out from between his curled fingers. The backdrop is one of the brightest blues I’ve ever seen, and all the colors mixed in seem to be different, darker shades of blue, one of which matches my eyes, flowing around dots of that same pink I liked. They trace wavy patterns that almost look like eyes themselves, and a few purple and silver dots are even speckled in. It reminds me of all the pictures of Jupiter I’ve ever seen in my life, but if you made the stripes wavier, applied a color filter to it, and added the perfect amount of glitter.

It’s a complete and utter success, if I’m being honest, and it only gets our curiosities soaring to see what Carli has picked out for himself. He unfolds his hand at last, and his pendant seems to have equal amounts of a bright green and woody brown trailing several swooping patterns vertically through the small area allotted to it, somehow completely avoiding looking like camo-print at all. Maybe it’s the glitter. Glitter kinda makes it more conspicuous. As it stands right now, it’ll have no problem standing out over his gray shirt, and probably basically any shirt that isn’t the same shade of brown or green, really. It stands out against his fur, too, and the green matches his eyes, so maybe he was using the same guiding principle that he used for me for himself.

“Love it.”

“Love that one.”

Those similar thoughts come from me and the stallkeeper. Arlo is just looking at it curiously, but I can tell he likes it. Eventually, he reaches out to drag a finger across the surface of the pendant, which is probably way more telling than anything he could’ve come up with to say aloud.

The necklaces are $15 each, but thanks to a bundle discount it goes down to $35. It should’ve been $40, because the sign only covers a 2 for $25 deal, but the stallkeeper is sweet beyond words. Considering how beautiful they all are, even the default price seems like a steal, but it looks like it’s partially because we chose the simple pendants, which all have a plain, silver rim. There are others set in pendants with sun-like or flower petal designs, some are set in engraved wood pendants… the list goes on, but those ones are all priced at $18. They each have their own appeal, obviously, but even if I wanted to buy them all… a barista only makes so much, let alone Carli and Arlo. Not that I get any say in the matter, because Arlo adamantly asserts that this was his idea and pays for all of them despite our efforts to stop him. Bold move coming from the man who almost started crying when he saw how much mattresses cost last night.

Either way, I end up thanking my lucky stars that I have my boys here with me, since I took one look at the lobster clasps the necklaces use and felt all my petty but exceedingly valid rage boil up. Anyone who’s tried to put something using those on by themselves can understand, I’m sure. A little embarrassment at having Arlo breathe down my neck while putting it on for me, once again insisting that he should do it because it was his idea, is infinitely more tolerable. When it’s Carli’s turn, he slips his improvised one off, staring down at it in his palm for a while.

“I guess I can wear this as an actual ring now?” He says, trying to fiddle with the knot and get it free. Thanks to all the effort he put in, though, our time at the festival is running low, so even if he wants to just stand there until he succeeds, we kinda have to go.

“Can you do that and walk?” Arlo asks. “It’s about time we head out.”

“Sure. I’ll follow behind. Just don’t go too fast.”

“You sure, darlin’?” I lilt, in that same stupid tone I used last time I called him that.

Frankly, I don’t know where it even came from the first time around, but it felt right at the time, using that outdated term I feel only a trophy wife or maybe a southern belle would dare try and weaponize in the modern day. Whereas when it comes to me calling Arlo “love”… well, that’s coming from the deepest part of me. That damn raccoon pierced through every single one of the layers I’d set up around myself – far more easily than some guy I was initially just trying to hook up with at a club should’ve been able to, mind – and earned that title straight from my heart. And now that I’m thinking about it, this disparity between pet names feels… bad. Just something else I’ll have to work at improving, I guess.

“Well, I’d ask you to hold my hands if I could,” he jokes. “But I need them, so yes, it’s fine.”

–☀–

Even at a dedicated store for stuff like this, the options for bluetooth speakers aren’t as impressive as I’d hoped. Sure, that means we can actually inspect them all in a reasonable timeframe with the clerk’s help, but it also definitely means we’re unlikely to find one that fulfills all our wants. Either way, we detail everything to this poor employee who was most assuredly hoping for an “Oh, no, we’re fine” upon asking us if we needed help, and he does his best to pretend he has intimate knowledge of every single speaker they have in stock.

We look and look, and – miraculously – find that there is one that fits the bill. High sound quality at low volume levels, a kickass bass for higher ones, long battery life. It’s larger than I would’ve preferred, since most every surface in my room has already reached maximum occupancy, thanks to all the stuff I own plus the stuff Brisk has brought in for himself… and now Carli might need some space too? But it has all the features I have a mighty need for, so I suck it up.

I’m deeply sorry, bank account, I mourn silently as I swipe my card at the register. But it’s what they deserve.

Just seeing the smiles on their faces, even if they’re only smiling because of how happy I am that we found “the one” is worth my bank account and more. I really am kinda an idiot. But that’s the power of love, and I’ve got that power twofold now! …Which still seems a bit unreal, despite how fantastic it makes me feel.

When we’ve clambered back into the car, I let Brisk sit up front again, since as of right now, our plans are still to have Carli and I in the same bed tonight… and Carli got the passenger seat on the way to the tech store, so we’re in need of some balancing. We have to swing by his house first though, because he (understandably) wants the things he’d need for an overnight stay, since yesterday’s was a bit… spontaneous. It’s a bit of a shame, because I love seeing him in my clothes just as much as I love seeing Brisk in them, but what can you do?

“Should we pick up some food after you get your stuff together? Think you’ll be hungry by then? Either of you?” I ask, turning juuust a bit to the side so I can steal a glance at them both.

As it would happen, the movement gets me laying my right arm on the center console, and my hand is quickly snatched up by Brisk the moment it’s in range… followed by Carli leaning forward to put his own hand on top of both of ours. The car swerves a bit as my heart jumps… but we’re fine. Maybe it’s because I had the A/C vent pointed at an unfortunate angle, but their hands feel like an oven on mine right now.

“Even if I’m not, it’ll be nice to have for later,” Carli points out. “What about you, Brisk? You usually don’t eat a lot, right?”

“I’m smaller than the both of you!” He complains. “Not my fault!”

Carli laughs, and my heart tries to make my driving hand make a terrible mistake as it leaps again. God, I’ve still got it bad. I guess it’s barely been 24 hours, so that shouldn’t surprise me much, but, well… this fire in me has made me think some pretty… unholy thoughts about what sharing a bed with him tonight could mean, instead of what it’s supposed to mean. Which is to say, I’ve been fantasizing, and I’ll be making extra sure I’m in charge of washing my underwear because of it, thank you.

“I never said it was!” Carli claps back – at least, I think that’s what those kinds of retorts are supposed to be called – squeezing Brisk’s hand and by extension mine to reassure him it was just an observation. We’re at a red light this time, though, so we all get to live. “Besides, even Arlo and I ended up skipping dinner after tackling the festival yesterday.”

“Right, right,” Brisk relents. “I’m pretty sure last time I checked, Arlo’s pantry was in dangerous waters, so it’s probably best we get something, yeah.”

It’s decided, then. We all go quiet, holding hands our special way, and eventually I pick up something familiar on the radio (the car is too old to have proper bluetooth, devastatingly enough), and click the volume button that’s built into the steering wheel up a few times. Pretty sure “because you’re holding hands with your boyfriends” was not what the manufacturers had in mind when they decided to add the button, but now I feel like I understand why it exists.

“All that I needed

Was the one thing I couldn’t find

And you were there at the turn

Waiting to let me know”

Fuck, I forgot how good this album is. I think, remembering the web search I’d done on it a few years back saying it had mixed reviews. Sometimes my fellow punks are way too puritanical. God forbid Linkin Park experiment, apparently.

In a few minutes, I’m pulling up to Carli’s house, and he’s dropping a “god dammit.” Ah… there’s another car here. Someone’s back, and they probably definitely noticed that he’s been gone. Shouldn’t be too hard to explain, but I get it. Kinda sucks to have to do.

“It’ll probably take me a little longer to get back to you, sorry.”

“Not a problem. More time to get hungry, my pop’d say. Ah, but could you lean up here a second?”

“Sure?” He answers, leaning forward… and getting a kiss on his little nose.

As expected, he freezes up, which gives Brisk just enough time to plant one on his cheek too, and I actually get to watch as he turns into a full tomato. Cute. Mission success. He exits the car in an embarrassed huff, and the moment the door closes Brisk is calling me out.

“I take it you’re not gonna be able to keep it in your pants with him tonight?”

It’s brutal, and thanks to his unnatural perception, I have no idea how obvious it’s actually been or whether Carli’s also noticed.

“Well, I mean,” I start, trying for one of the weak arguments I’ve been struggling to come up with ever since I first kissed that vole. “We’ve already done all sorts of stuff together, you and I, so I figured if I could… ask you about it, and get him to agree…”

“Does that mean I can have equal reign to play with him if I say I’m fine with it?”

“Like… going for the threesome right away?” I ask, my hand tightening hard around the wheel.

“Holy shit, you’re further in the gutter than I thought.”

“I-!”

“I figured I’d let you have a private moment with him, since you seemed to want one so bad, but, well-”

“No! I do!” I shout, and immediately fold my ears back in embarrassment. “S-Sorry.”

He looks taken aback, which is totally reasonable. I… I don’t know what’s going on with me any more than he does, though.

“I’m… also sorry? I guess I should’ve been clearer about what I was asking. It was supposed to be more along the lines of ‘if you get to have fun with him one-on-one, is it okay for me to do that, too?’”

“You’d have to double check with him, but if you’re gonna let me get away with it, it’s only fair I let you get away with it.”

“Makes sense.”

“So can I get away with it?”

“I just said you could.”

“Did you?”

Sorry. I was panicking.

“Yes. Feel free to shower me with kisses for my magnanimity.”

I shoot a look at Carli’s place, decide no one’s coming yet, and shrug. “Alright, kitty. C’mere.”

With a click, my seatbelt is off, and I flip around, swinging a leg over to his side of the center console and digging in my heel so I can pin him deeper into his seat. Sucking in a breath, I press our muzzles together using every last bit of the nervous energy that’s been bouncing around in me with nowhere to go. My hand trails down his arm, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking it up so I can pin it by his head and get even more leverage, letting him know just how much I apparently need this, to my growing surprise. It seems I’m doing really good this time around, too, because he opens up, begging for more. A fresh wave of heat sears across my face, and I dive deep. I don’t know how long we spend like that, but at some point he gets us separated, gasping for air. God, he’s gorgeous.

“What the hell is it with Carli?” He hisses, replacing my totally empty head with a swirl of confusion. “You’ve been pulling out this goddamn animal act of yours almost every time since he came into the picture.”

“I’m literally an animal?”

“So am I, genius.”

“B-But, what do you mean by that… like, actually? Are you mad?”

“The uptick is pretty fucking insane, but you’re pointing it at me whenever you can and it’s hot as hell, so I can’t say I am.”

I guess it’s because I know I can get away with it with him, whereas with Carli I don’t have any idea what the boundaries are looking like… and as much as I know something’s going on with me, I’ve got this little inkling that these high-strung emotions might also be partially caused by that incredible fucking feeling I got when Carli told me what polyamory was, instead of it just being about him. Not to say I don’t love him. I know I do, but it’s hard to sort out just how much I do, while I’m still riding both highs. And since I don’t know for sure, there isn’t anything I want to say out loud about it.

“You wanna climb back into your seat, maybe?” Brisk asks in my silence. “Carli’s probably coming back soon.”

“You don’t think he’d want to watch?”

“I don’t think we should start fucking in his driveway.”

“…You think it’d go that far?”

“I found out fairly recently that he can be just as much as you, so maybe.”

“Like you’re any better.”

“Someone has to be the brains. Come on, horndog, back in your spot.”

“Oh, fine.”

I settle back into my seat, miserably waiting for my pants to go back to being less tight. At this rate, I might jump Carli the moment we walk into our room for the night, but no. I gotta be more careful than that. Just a little.

It only takes about a minute more for the vole in question to be back, an entire duffel bag with him. He probably just forgot to do it or didn’t care, but he hasn’t changed clothes, so he’s still wearing my shirt. And I’m sure we all know how much I appreciate that by now.

“Sorry for the wait,” he immediately says. “Needed to explain myself, and then explain why I’m still not gonna be home. Took a bit to find some of the stuff I wanted, too.”

“I take it you didn’t have time to think about where to pick up dinner, then?”

“Uh, no… But it’s Sunday, so the options are limited, at least.”

“Oh yeah… What d’you think, kitty? Any ideas?”

“Just hit up like, that sandwich chain that’s on the way.”

“…That okay with you, Carli?”

“Uhhh… yeah. That’s fine.”

……

Well, it’s a good thing I’ve stopped being embarrassed about asking for no onions. For the purpose of kissing people, mind. I’m not a hater.

One stop later, we’re at my house, an extra-large paper bag full of subs in Brisk’s arms and the bag with our speaker in my hands. In my excitement to get it open and set up, I occupy most of the table space, so he leaves our food on any available counter, pulling up a chair next to me while Carli does the same. There’s no time to argue about the seating arrangements, and this is obviously the most ideal one for what we’re doing now, so like, whatever. Soon, there’s stray wads of tape, instruction and warning booklets, and a whole lot of styrofoam flakes all over the tabletop. Our shiny new toy is on display… and I have to defer to them to get it set up. Hell if I know what I’m doing.

It doesn’t take them much time, and the moment my phone gets properly connected it starts playing whatever song got left paused earlier… way way way too fucking loudly. It’s more Good Charlotte, all the way back from breakfast this morning.

“_ LET THIS OCEAN OF OUR MEMORIES” _

I pause it immediately, before we all go deaf. Sure, playing that song loud is what I’d normally want to do, but it’s like, actually max volume, which I’d never ever do.

“Fucking WHY?” I whine, covering my poor ear, while Carli reaches for the manual volume control and turns it down about sixty notches.

“Well it works,” Brisk jokes, even as I watch him retract his claws from where they’d dug into my tabletop in his own panic. “So what now?”

“Now we make a new playlist on here, I think,” Carli says, scrolling through the UI on his phone. “Since we’ve done nothing but take turns on or fight for the speakers this whole time, I figured we might as well try to make one we can just use.”

“Like, on shuffle?” I ask. “Wouldn’t that make it luck-based and cause problems anyways?”

“…Well, maybe… But isn’t letting something else handle it still better than cycling through our three individual playlists one song at a time? We’ve also seen what happens when we leave one of us in charge for an entire chunk of time, so is it really that different if a random number generator sometimes ends up doing the same thing?”

“…I guess we could try. Whaddya think, kitty?”

“I think I’ve already got plenty of ideas for what I want on there.”

No doubt enough sugar pop to kill a man. Eh, it could be fun. “Alright, let’s just get all this shit off the table. We can do it while we eat.”

Turns out, we all have a lot of opinions on music, so our “meal” takes nearly an hour and a half. Carli makes the playlist on his account, which means it pops up on my phone since we share, and it’s left to me to add all the tracks. I’m pretty sure he’s able to add his own songs by himself, but I think they’re both using this whole business as an excuse to lean in close, all our phones near to each other as they scroll through their own playlists and point at the ones they want. It’s even more complicated than that, though. If left to our own devices, we’d just slap entire albums into the list at once, so Carli limits it to one song per album for now, saying we can add more later, when we have a baseline. It’s not one per artist, however, so it ends up going a bit like this.

Baby One More Time – Britney Spears (Brisk)

Points of Authority – Linkin Park (Me)

watch – Billie Eilish (Carli)

Toxic – Britney Spears

Somewhere I Belong – Linkin Park

bitches broken hearts – Billie Eilish

Eventually, the artists do start to change, and things also start getting weird. More precisely, things get weird with Brisk. He seems to run out of radio darlings faster than I was expecting, and unfamiliar names start cropping up. The first one I notice is UPSAHL, who I’ve never heard of, but when he accidentally presses play while trying to point, it sounds basically like the stuff I’m used to. It only gets weirder, though. Seems he’s having trouble keeping his hands steady, and he ends up playing snippets of a lot of artists that I’ve either never heard of or never heard him mention. The Pierces, Julien Baker, Sea Wolf, Oh Wonder, Stars, Studio Killers, jesse saint john, Tegan and Sara, Foster the People, Hozier, MUNA, the list goes on and on.

“What the heck is going on here?” I finally ask after he adds his fifth Stars song in a row.

“I… listen to music?” He offers, none of his usual smartassery available to him, it seems.

“So why is it always pop songs I’ve heard on the radio a million times?”

“Um… I like watching you react to them, because of your aesthetic being like, the opposite? It’s cute.”

If he was trying to embarrass me, he succeeded, because I’m very quickly fighting down a blush. Hell, why am I even bothering with the “if”? It’s always been obvious that that’s the kind of shit he’s after, literally all the time. Well, two people can play that game.

“You’re cute,” is my first, automatic response, as though we’re trading insults even though that couldn’t be further from the case, and I lean over, going the extra mile to kiss him on the cheek. “Awfully sneaky of you, I gotta say, but I’m looking forward to seeing what else you’ve got.”

It works wonders, because he can’t even respond. He goes totally quiet, staring down at his screen and refusing to look elsewhere. He might be even shyer about his tastes than Carli is! Now that’s something.

Speaking of Carli, he’s been putting in some surprises of his own. A lot more of his artists are already familiar to me, like Imogen Heap, Purity Ring, CHVRCHES… but he’s got plenty of left-field contenders too. Can’t say I was expecting Radiohead, PlayRadioPlay!, Minipop, Graveyard Club, the bird and the bee, or Florence + the Machine, if only because I’ve never even heard of most of them, just like with Brisk. While he’s adding her tracks, though. he decides to inform me that Florence of “the Machine” fame has the same last name as me, and I think that’s cool as hell, actually. Never will I compare myself to grape jelly again… maybe.

While we’re plugging in song after song, I slowly realize that instead of picking my absolute favorites off the albums like I assume I should be doing, I’m going more for titles that happen to match up with my current… urges. I at least manage to land the joke of adding Whisper by Burn the Ballroom immediately after Brisk adds a song with the same title by Betty Who, but aside from that… All to Myself, Shut Up and Kiss Me – both by Marianas Trench – Succexy by Metric, and most distressingly accurate, Paranoid and Aroused by Korn. Thankfully, I manage to cover these unconscious decisions up by putting a few less sexy titles in between, but it makes me feel like I’ve been reduced to a hormonal teen all over again.

–☀–

Finally, finally. Oh god, finally. Fucking finally! My heart and mind are practically yowling, like strays in heat, even though last time I checked I still wasn’t a cat.

What they’re so excited over is the fact that the night has arrived, and me and Carli have just stepped into my guest room, because Brisk still refused to sleep here despite the fact that he literally did yesterday. I was too impatient to argue, though.

I make sure the door is closed while Carli heads for where he left his bag on the bed and unzips it, but I can’t be assed to wait for him to unpack anything. In fact, there’s a small part of me that’s so impatient I want to just straight-up throw our brand-new speaker – which I brought with me – to the side. But it was expensive, so I set it down like a normal person before stepping forward and embracing him from behind.

I curl my arms up, claws searching for anything to grab onto on his chest while I bury my face in his shoulder, and my wandering hands find the necklace we just bought. I fiddle with it, delegating my other hand to pulling softly on the collar of his- or, well, I guess it’s technically my shirt, but whatever. He can keep it for all I care, as long as I get to keep him. He freezes up, and I try my luck.

“C-Carli… Are you… um, willing to help me out? I’m kinda… I kinda… want you really bad.”

Instead of answering, the sound of his duffel bag’s zipper hits my ears. I glance up cautiously to see what’s happening.

He’s… closing it back up?

Is he planning to make a dramatic exit?

Did I fuck up that bad?

And then it gets thrown off the mattress with a level of impatience that’s remarkably similar to the one I was just feeling. His hand comes up and lands on my cheek, with ludicrous softness, I might add. My instinct is to rub up against it, so I do. Soon, though, I feel him start shaking. My eyes snap open, and I peek at him. Those are… tears? In an instant, I’ve rocketed away from him. Like I’d shocked him even harder than he’s shocked me, he wheels around to face me, and we stare each other down, completely out of sync, suddenly. And yet, in sync.

“Sorry!” We shout at the same time, snapping our mouths shut right after. Carli starts wiping at his face as fast as he can, and I start reaching for the doorknob…

“R…”

I stop reaching for the doorknob.

“Come here. Please.”

“…Aye aye.” I meekly reply, stepping back towards him.

I don’t dare make a move once I’m in range, but he wastes no time grabbing my arms himself. Holding me in place with his eyes cast down, he takes a deep breath, squeezes me a few times, then looks up.

“I gotcha,” he says. “Just tell me what you want.”

Well, first…

I press forward with all my might, tripping him over so we hit the bed in a tangle. I worm one hand behind his head, the other entwining with his own.

“Fuck,” I breathe, our faces barely centimeters apart. “I just wanna touch you.”

“Can I do the same?”

“Nothing could make me happier.”

Without another word, I kiss him hard, feeling every last movement of him beneath me, our grips on each other tightening as heat rises between us. When I pull away from him, he uses his free hand to reach for my shirt collar and pulls, but my pendant gets caught between and swings forward, bumping his chin. He sighs.

“I guess we should get these off first.”

“And then the rest of them.” I add, a small plea embedded in the suggestion.

“Sure… Just… Just tell me what you want.” He repeats, and we disentangle ourselves to start stripping.

In the little while it takes for me to get all the way down to my boxers, I’ve pitched a very insistent tent. Carli, on the other hand, has only removed his necklace, setting it down right next to where I left mine on the nightstand. As I look at them sitting there, I’m hit by the extremely unnecessary thought that, if this were a movie trying to keep its rating down, the camera would likely stay focused on them while bedsprings start creaking in the background before a fade to black. But this is real life, baby. And real life means I get to stare him down in all his glory… if he actually bothered to remove anything. Alas, he’s picking at his- er, still technically my, shirt, looking conflicted.

“Are you sure about… me?” He asks, and at this point my patience is bordering on zero.

“Carli. Get out of those goddamn clothes before I tear them apart.”

And he knows I mean it, because those band tees are pricey.

“Yessir.” He squeaks, his eyes going wide.

He crosses his arms over each other, grabs the hem, and with a single movement, he’s gotten it off, hanging inside-out from his forearms in the aftermath. A flopping of hands has it hitting the floor, and I step up and dig my claws gently into his naked chest, like I’m trying to grab that frantic heart just underneath and take it for myself. I kiss him again, press my need against his, and get a, pardon the pun, solid indication that I’m not just getting riled up on my own.

I want that. Right now.

“On the bed.” I demand, and he scrambles to comply, backpedaling until he trips himself over, reclining on his palms and looking at me with sparkling eyes instead of teary ones, at last.

I drop to my knees, pop the button on his jeans, and get everything out of the way as best I can. Unless he pushes himself up, though, it’s all staying pinned at the back. I probably am strong enough to force it, honestly, but I’m not actually interested in potentially damaging his clothes. I yank a good several inches of cloth down, but it doesn’t get him free, and I blink as I look at what I did manage to expose.

Is he… big?

His sheath is spread wide around the base, a heated pink root disappearing under where my fingers are curled around the waistband of his boxers, and I get my first whiff of his arousal. Smells about the same as Brisk, save for his natural scent buried under the familiar hints of salt and musk. It’s almost spicy, but also sweet, like… cinnamon? I lean in closer. No, it’s more like ginger. Gingerbread? It’s the faintest of smells, but it’s definitely almost like gingerbread if I sniff really hard, which I kinda… am doing, huh.

“Could you push yourself up?” I finally ask, letting go for a moment to rub at my nose. It was supposed to be a gesture of embarrassment over how into huffing him I got, but his scent is on my paw, so it only makes me hotter.

“Y-Yeah.” He stutters, letting me leave that shit around his ankles in short order.

His dick swings up as I get his pants past the tip, the drop of pre on it coming in contact with my nose along the way and leaving us connected by a glittering thread. I twitch it again and again, taking in that smell just the same, and it’s time for some art appreciation.

His dick is tapered, colored a calm, sort of pale pink, and certainly at least seven inches long. His balls dangle below, bigger than even his impressive upper proportions would’ve had me estimating. He is a rodent, I guess. I think them having fatter nuts is like, a thing? The whole package almost makes me jealous. Even if I was rock hard and flattening out the curve my own dick’s got going on, I don’t think I’ve ever managed to get past six-and-three-quarters on the ruler. But well, in a way, what’s in front of me right now is also all mine – at least, for the moment – so what do I have to be upset about?

I reach for the source of the slowly sinking string connecting us, dragging my finger up the underside of his length and disconnecting it when I get to the tip. Following the curve as best I can, I trail the viscous drop back until I’m at my nose with all of it in tow, and with a slight change of angle, I get it off of there, too, and suck it right from my fingertip. It doesn’t really taste all that different from Brisk or even myself, but the flavor is kinda irrelevant to the fact that doing this sends a shiver down my spine every time.

“Carli.”

“Yes?” He squeaks again, his hand covering his mouth as he blushes big time over everything I just did.

“I want to suck your dick. Is that okay?”

“YES?!?!?”

“Awesome.”

Shuffling forward on my knees, I get up close and personal and think about reaching for my own dick, but a simple brush across my tip, even through the fabric, has me trembling already. That’ll wait, then. I’m not ending this high early, no fucking way. Once I’m right up against him, I take in all the mixed scents at his base one more time, and then drag my tongue up every last inch.

“F-Fuuuck.” My vole swears from on high, and I feel his hand clamp onto my shoulder.

“I don’t wanna tell you what to do,” I tease, letting each syllable brush across his tip, “but can you try and hold back as long as you can for me? I wanna get… let’s say, ‘familiar’ with all this.”

“R…” He groans, the pressure on my shoulder increasing. “Let me return the favor, and you’ve got a deal.”

“Hell. Yes.” I hiss, and then shut myself up on his cock.

I’m not mean, though, so I don’t spend time teasing his oversensitive tip. No, I just slowly work my way down, keeping my tongue to myself for now. I get pretty far, considering Brisk doesn’t really ask for blowjobs anymore, ever since that time I stupidly mentioned how weird the lube and latex combo tastes. He bought flavored ones, but they still had like… this medical quality to them, which I didn’t mention, but I guess he caught onto it thanks to my reaction, or something? Basically, I only get to blow him when he’s willing to forgo the rubber, which is his decision to make. There’s no way I’d request it myself, since I know how into it he is, and it’s not like I can’t get off other ways, so there isn’t really a reason for me to get hung up on it, I guess? Which is to say, he’s mostly the one sucking dick, while I’m on handjob and topping duty 95% of the time, but damn is it also good when I get to partake in that other 5%.

Ah… I wonder if Carli would top me, if I asked? I’ll admit… I’ve kinda wanted to try it a few times after hearing the noises I’ve made Brisk make while plowing him. They’re just… so different from anything else. Of course, the reason I’ve gotta rely on Carli for this imaginary scenario is because I’ve yet to find a dominant bone in Brisk’s body when it comes to bedroom activities. Which is crazy to me, since he’s always so upfront with what he wants in every moment leading up to them.

…What was I doing, again? I think my head kinda clouded over while I was getting even more breaths of Carli’s everything, all the way down here. Oh, that’s right. I wanted to do this. Though I’m a bit worried it might make things end quicker… I can’t resist weighing those fat fucking nuts in my palm. Like just about every other movement I’ve made, it gets Carli digging his little claws into my shoulder, huffing and puffing as he does his best to keep the promise he made me. Fucking hell, I love him. How did I ever not? Am I stupid?

Oh yeah. I am.

But I give damn good head! Maybe it’s ’cause mine’s empty! Hahaaaaaaa.

Alright, alright, that’s enough self-deprecation, and probably enough time spent letting him get used to me around him. It’s about time I start bobbing, put some tongue into it, all that. But while I’m here… I loosen my jaw even further, let my tongue messily escape my maw, and with the little leeway I have, I try poking it past the rim of Carli’s sheath.

Success! Now that’s the good shit. Everything I’ve been smelling and tasting, all concentrated right in there. Just a little thing I learned from playing with my own.

Leaving my tongue out, I pull myself all the way back, dragging it up that little bump along the underside, which like, is his urethra, but that sounds particularly unsexy, so I call it the cumvein, thanks to the assistance of some horny prose I read once upon a jerkoff session. Much hotter that way. The sexiness of it is even being proven in real time, as I feel myself throb in my boxers, a fat new drop being added to the dark spot spreading across them for like… the third time today. It’s gonna be a bit messy when Carli’s trying to get those off to return the favor, for sure. He claws my shoulder again, each tiny mark they leave zinging down my spine. I made the masochist joke earlier, but… um, it looks like there might be something to it for real?

Fascinating.

Once I pop off of Carli’s tip, a new drop of pre trailing from my outstretched tongue, his other hand settles on my head. He runs his fingers through my headfur, then drags them down the side, temporarily flattening my ear along the way but mercifully not getting caught on my piercings before his palm settles on my cheek again. I want to smile over it, but my jaw’s still hanging open in a pant, so I do my best to curve the corners and look right up at him. His eyes are half-lidded, desperation coloring his face. I keep staring and dip back down a bit, twirling my tongue around his tip and watching his face scrunch up as he hisses between his teeth. These are the reactions I’m after, and they’re all so… perfect.

“R… I’m kinda, at my limit.” He grits out.

I huff again, another wave of my heated breath blowing across him. “Gotcha. I swallow, by the way.”

Wrapping myself around him one last time, I take in a fair two inches and work him to the peak. Suck a little, twirl my tongue a lot, aim for whatever bit of him gets those claws trying to tear into my shoulder hardest… and get my salty-sweet reward. I massage his balls as they get to work, like it’ll help me get every last drop, and my maw fills with each powerful throb. One, then another, a third… a fourth… a fifth, and then a seemingly endless trickle as he caresses my cheek like the fantastic fucking boy I am. Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night.

Once he’s all spent, I pull back, trying to breathe even while my tongue searches around my mouth for any last traces.

“For the love of god, get up on the bed. I’ve gotta…” He gasps, so I stand up as ordered.

This, of course, brings my exceedingly stained boxers right into range of his face, and I see his nose start working overtime.

“You want me to take these off, or did you wanna do it?” I taunt, even though the answer is beyond obvious.

“Fucking… I want to touch all of you, R. Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I guess we should switch places then, get all this into easy reach, hm?” I joke, running my hands down my sides and 100% not making it look as sexy as anyone would’ve hoped.

“Really? You said that as a joke? Get over here.” He snaps, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me down, and this time it’s him kissing me.

Flattening out my palm, I push hard into the mattress to stay upright, and our free hands do the same thing at the same time – settle on the back of each other’s necks and try to pull us deeper together. I do still need to make good on my promise, though, so I stop the kiss before my screaming desire to add some tongue takes over and swivel on the ball of my foot, slamming my ass down next to him on the bed. In response, he gets up, kicking one of his feet free from where his jeans are still hanging on for dear life, and crouches down, his hands roaming wherever they please as per his promise. Or was it a request? Doesn’t matter.

No… what matters is that he really does touch all of me, trying out as many tactics as he can think of. Massaging my inner ears, dragging claws down my thighs, tweaking my nipples, stroking my cheek, squeezing on either side until my maw pops open and that imagined French kiss becomes very real, running his hands down my shoulders to my wrists, tracing circles around my navel, teasing hands right above my waistband, the list goes on. Around the time those teasing hands get to my waistband though, he snakes a hand under my ass and makes me lift up so he can finally spring me from my exceedingly damp fabric prison.

“That’s what a raccoon dick looks like? Are you sure you’re not an alien?”

……

Holy hell. I haven’t heard that joke in ages. It spawned years and years ago, from Carli’s opinion that I hardly ever do things like an earthling, or something, and he used to check my extraterrestrial status every so often. I’m very normal, though! I’m pretty sure…

But like, yeah, life’s a bag of surprises when biology class can’t cover the reproductive system of every species under the sun. There’s always the internet, though, dangerous as it is, but I suppose this shock means Carli never looked a raccoon dick up? Should I be flattered?

Either way, even though I’ve seen this pal o’ mine my whole life, I get it, man. It has a pretty visible curve, and the tip is sort of a bulbous, kinda flared, upside-down triangle shape, the corners of which are rounded, of course, not sharp. No one’s ever complained about it past their initial reaction, though, and it seems they aren’t about to start, since Carli’s first act of exploration is to drag a finger along the underside, hitting the extremely sensitive bit just behind my crown.

“Heyyyy,” I quip, resisting the urge to punch some holes in the sheets with my claws. “Careful now. I’m a bit riled up, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Sure. I can do that.” He claims, right before he dives face-first into my nuts, with enough pressure that I can feel his nose twitching against them.

“HHHHHOLY SHIT! U-Um… Sorry if it’s a little, er… strong down there, by the way. I-”

“You smell fucking incredible.”

Oh. Oh my.

That’s a new one. And based on the sudden straightening of my spine, my tail flicking high into the air as a bolt of desire fires up and down every last one of my vertebrae, it’s something I should add to my repertoire for future endeavors. Definitely.

“Th-Thank you?” I try to respond, but in the few seconds I spent reeling Carli had cocked his head to the side and set his tongue free, making me hiss and claw at the sheets again as it travels up all of me.

Come on, me. Hold yourself back. Don’t go popping your cork twenty seconds in.

It’s hard, though. Unbelievably difficult. Now that he’s finally there, Carli is relentless, tongue flicking across everything he can reach and then coating it with static tingles as his hot breath washes over every wet patch he leaves behind. When he actually opens up at my tip and takes me in, I feel the thread count of our defenseless sheets actively decreasing underneath my frantic paws. Fuck. Oh god. I’ll never be able to explain that.

My resistance is so, totally futile though. I’ve been bordering at the peak since his initial touch, on a hair-trigger like this is my first time all over again. He goes down on me, inch after inch, hits the base just like I did to him, and also just like I did, huffs desperately at whatever he’s smelling down there. Mercifully, every moment he spends doing that gives me just the slightest chance to calm back down, but it’s all rendered pointless the moment he starts pulling back. My claws pry deeper, past the gashes I made in the covers, down to the fitted sheet, then down to the mattress itself, and I dig them in there, straining the muscles in my hand and groin alike as I fight to stay on the borderline, if nothing else.

But even then, he only gets to bob up and down a few times before all my willpower snaps, crumbles, and otherwise disappears. I curl atop him, completely hiding his head from non-existent onlookers as I rush headlong to the release I’ve needed for… ever since the last time me and Brisk fucked, I guess. My panting, overstimulated, uneven breaths from riding my edge for as long as I could manage roll down his neck as he picks up on my impending little death, following my example and swirling his tongue around the most sensitive bit of my tip.

“C-Carli, are… are you gonna swallow t-” I can’t even finish the sentence, because he flicked his tongue adamantly against my crown and made his answer clear. With no resistance left, I blow.

“Ahh! Ahhhhh,” I grunt and groan, feeling each and every little contraction in that maw and throat alike as he greedily takes all I have to offer. “Oooough… Holy… fuck… You…”

Like he sucked out my soul, a metaphor I didn’t understand until precisely right now, I go limp atop him, his ear flicking as my maniacally pounding heart settles right next to it. I’m pretty sure my orgasm is much smaller than his, but it still feels like we spend an eternity connected like this. Probably because I’m laying atop him without any of my muscles available to help me straighten up, which is keeping him down there. I’d wonder how he’s even breathing if I couldn’t still feel his nose twitching against my crotch. But seriously, how is he holding himself steady with his maw stuffed full this long? Is this a secret talent of his? Because if it is… damn, that’s a good one.

At some point, I feel like I’ve gotten enough strength back to straighten up, but I’m happy to stay here, and he’s happy to stay there, so… seems we’re at a stalemate. I suppose it’s on me to free him, though, and my dick’s going down now, so I guess I will. I lean back, propping myself up on my hands, and he pulls himself free but just… stays on his knees, laying his head against my thigh. I play with him all I want while he lays there and just breathes, eyes closed. Muss his headfur, scratch behind his ears, rub a thumb across his cheek, the works.

Basically, it’s the greatest shit ever, so when he suddenly leaps up without warning, shouting “Nope. Nope! Can’t take it anymore!” I’m confused beyond anything. He angrily pulls his pants back on, and steals the shirt that I was wearing right off the floor.

“Huh? What? Take what?”

“It’s way too fucking cold in your house, man!” He snaps, diving right past me and under the covers. “Fuck!”

“It is?”

“Yes! I’ve told you this a thousand times!”

Well yeah… but…

“I guess I’ll go turn it up…” I reluctantly relent, standing, realizing I’m naked… and then going out anyway. Not like anyone’s here except Brisk- “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii kitty.”

“You guys went all in already,” he comments, looking me up and down in the hall, a water bottle that I assume he just grabbed out of the fridge in hand. “Well, I mean, I kinda heard the both of you regardless, but like…”

“Um… I…”

“So? Had fun?”

“I… I…”

“Come on. It’s not like I haven’t seen you like this before.”

“It’s… It’s different when I’m the only one naked, and… and… you’re my boyfriend, but I just came out of the room I was sharing with my… other boyfriend?”

“Our other boyfriend.”

“Our.”

God, that makes my heart pound.

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” He asks.

“Carli says it’s too cold.”

“So you’re turning it up?”

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t think of another way to keep him warm?”

“I… I figured I’d do both.”

“Can I get in on that?”

Yes.

“Yes.”

Absolutely yes.

“See you there, then,” he laughs, smacking my ass as he sweeps behind me and heads through the door. “Heyyy darlin’. Need a warm body under there?”

I’ve never clicked the A/C dial faster, which makes me realize how much time it actually takes to accept each input. Stupid thing. Can’t it see that I’ve got places to be? Once it’s cranked a good 4 degrees higher, I shoot back to our room, where Brisk has Carli in his lap already, a hand all up under the vole’s newest borrowed shirt and rubbing… somewhere.

“Jesus, you’re literally an ice cube.” He’s saying, but Carli’s too busy blowing into his cupped hands like he’s out in a snowstorm to answer. So dramatic.

I pick up our speaker from where I left it by the door, and sweep Carli’s other borrowed, inside-out shirt off the floor, shaking it back the right way and trying to get it on with one hand, which goes mostly well… in that I get it halfway there.

“You’re seriously getting dressed again instead of rushing to keep us company?” Brisk teases, and like, what was he expecting?

“Was I supposed to just climb in with your fully clothed selves without pants?”

“I wouldn’t complain. Carli?”

“Neither would… I?”

……

Well, if they say so. “If I get excited while we’re there, I expect help.”

“Gladly.”

…I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Alright, alright already. I leave the speaker on the bed, pull my shirt on the rest of the way, and climb under the covers bottomless. I scoot as close as I can to Brisk, and he leans against me and passes a confused Carli over, using his freed hand to grab me on the far side and pull himself closer. He leaves it there, and his other hand goes back to softly kneading at whatever bits of Carli he can reach.

“Hi,” I offer as our vole lands atop my naked groin, already regretting letting Brisk talk me into this, because my need is rising again. There’s literally a boy I’m down bad for sitting on my lap. What the hell else am I supposed to feel? “Think you can reach the speaker? I think it’s time we try out our playlist.”

“Um, sure,” he says, leaning forward and making me stiffen up in multiple places as his weight shifts on top of me. He holds down the power button once he’s straightened back up, and pulls his phone out of his pocket, seeing as mine is still in my pants somewhere on the floor. “Shuffle’s still fine with you, yeah?”

“Yup!” I offer a bit too cheerily, trying to keep myself distracted. “But can we start it on Wretches and Kings? Since we’re all here, we don’t have to worry about the volume, and I really wanna test out the bass on these things. It fucking hits in that song.”

“Brisk?” He asks.

“Sure, why not? I’m more interested in cuddling than I am in controlling the ambiance, anyways.”

He is being pretty handsy, so that adds up.

“There’s a time

When the operation of the machine becomes so odious

Makes you so sick at heart, that you can’t take part

You can’t even passively take part

And you’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels

Upon the levers, upon all the apparatus

And you’ve got to make it stop!”

The first few riffs play out, and then on the repeat…

Yes. Fuck yes. That’s the drop. A dull thrum through my chest, hype as all hell and finally fully distracting me from what I was sure would be an inevitable boner. It rattles through me, and while I get no reaction from them, I just settle back and accept that no reaction is better than a negative one. I get to listen to my song, and then the mystery selection begins.

A small “Oh” followed by some humming when Carli gets a song, me getting into the rhythm and singing just the lyrics I remember best when it’s my turn, a stiffening of muscles and a sharp intake of breath from Brisk when he finally wins a roll after Carli and I keep getting lucky but it ends up being one of those artists I’ve never heard of that he apparently likes, and after a while I’m just swaying to all of them, getting drowsy with all this warmth against me. The volume steadily decreases, with each of us having requests on how our songs should be played as we get more tired, and soon I’m on the verge of falling asleep to the gentle guitar backing one of Carli’s songs, the current volume setting at like, 4.

“She never seemed to cry

She never got upset

And one by one they came

And one by one they left”

“Alright, alright,” Brisk says around that point, shifting on the bed. “It’s getting late, and I’m painfully aware of the fact that we won’t all fit here by now.”

“Don’t go.” I beg in my sleepiness, already feeling a chill creep in at the place on my side his hand had been occupying the whole time.

“I gotta, love. You’re clearly barely awake, and Carli’s not doing much better.” He chuckles, striding around and leaning over to click off the nightstand lamp, but instead I catch his arm, pull him down, and kiss him goodnight.

“Love you,” I mumble when he pulls back, and he ruffles my headfur in that way he does. “Also, leave that on.”

“Love you too. And gotcha. Carli~” He lilts, making the barely-conscious vole snap his head up.

“Whuh?”

“Goodnight.” He coos, leaning in to kiss him too.

“G’night,” Carli mutters as Brisk makes his retreat, falling back against me. “Guess it’s about time we turn this off.”

“Sure. You can lay down, I’ll plug it in to charge. Don’t go to sleep yet, though.” I say, easing his phone from his hand.

“I’ll try.”

“Ah, kitty!” I call out right before the door shuts.

“Hm?”

“Turn the air back down a little?”

“Got it.”

Silence falls so very completely after that, and I get up and find my pants at last. When I’m all dressed again, my ears pricking as the hum of the A/C starting up reaches them, I climb onto the bed and hover above Carli, who’s on his back and staring cloudy-eyed at the ceiling.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Without another word, I dip down and kiss him, and then climb right back off the bed. “Alright, get up! I’m not letting you get away with just passing out. Toothbrush, now.”

“Aww, mooooom.” He complains, weakly pushing himself up as I head for where he’d thrown his bag earlier and get to searching for the thing.

One trip later, we’re back in each other’s arms.

Alone, in the quiet, in the dark, with the man I’d never have managed to believe I’d end up with like this as of one damn day ago held tight to me, my heart loses all semblance of control again.

“Carli,” I mumble, trying to pull his head even tighter to my chest. “I’m so glad you told me about this. All of this.”

I should’ve known he’d react the way he does, but my heart cracks when he starts shaking against me, crying again. I have to tell myself they’re tears of joy, or I’ll really be in trouble.

“I’m… Me too.” He manages to say, his sweet little claws digging into my upper arm yet again.

“It feels a little weird to say still, but… I love you.” I mutter, my own eyes feeling a little wet.

“Mm……… I love you, R.”

We curl into each other, letting a few tears out, getting ourselves under control, and soon I’m drifting off to the sound of rain pattering against the window…

When did that start up?