Requiem Chronicles V2 (Furry, Non *B/DL, Mature Content)

[SleepingPup567]

I apologize that chapter 5 isn't up yet. First off, I was gone all of June, so I only got to outline, not write.

I'm halfway through with chapter 5, though. I'm just sort of distracted at the moment. Hopefully it'll be up at some point in the next two weeks. If not... sick the dingos on me!

[SleepingPup567]

Just a warning. This story may not go much longer. I'm getting a little bored with it. So, in the meantime I'm going to try and balance it with some short stories, some *B/Dl, in an attempt to keep my interest a little more. If that doesn't work, then I'll stick strictly to short stories. If that STILL doesn't work, I'll just say screw it to writing and focus more on drawing.



Chapter 5: Pandora’s Box
December 20, 2010



Serene silence. It engulfed him roughly but warmly. The city was eerie, dead. Perhaps that was just his nerves trying to wear him down into security for the day to follow. Regardless, it was comfortably inaudible. Then again, it was just the comfort of the room as he cuddled into the warm, neon-green head-fur of his beloved. His presence was soothing as he laid there quietly, his eyes close and his face buried into the red fur in front of him.
The room was dark, but the sliver of blue moonlight that shone through the window gave it some definition. It seemed very distinctive for a small apartment room. Its walls were white, with many black frames on them that held beautiful pieces of abstract art with colors of blue and purple. The furniture was black as well. The large wardrobe was topped by violet vases which quartered light blue roses. And the bed had a white comforter with black circles and black cotton sheets underneath.
On that bed they were together, though the red panda was simply propped up onto his arm, watching the city streets below through the moonlit glass. It was definitely a Californian town, as even at two in the morning people jumped from bar to bar, trying to get there next fix or set up some hot sex with a random kindred soul.
His silver eyes were narrow from his heavy lids as his striped tail stroked the Muntjac’s back. The little cervine had Dante wrapped around his little finger. He was just so adorable and sweet. How could someone not completely fall for him? And his submissiveness was just a nice little perk for the panda. His fur was fascinating to Dante he absolutely loved the complex dye job the little deer had self-performed. Mostly his fur was as dark as night with unbeatable sheen. However, the Y-shaped mark on his face, going from his polished, curved horns to his black nose. Then, of course, was the large white spot that ran from the bottom of his chin all the way down through his thighs and along the bottom of his tail. The most entertaining aspect though, were the many random occurrences of neon-green, like the circles on his ears or the heart on his chest-fur and the stripes on his throat.
Truly he was immaculate. Even more so as he snuggled closer and one hand seemed to snake down to Dante’s groin, stroking his sheath and gently fondling his balls. The red panda was used to that feeling and just smiled, pulling the smaller fur closer to him and listening to him murr softly. It took a few moments, but finally the younger boy woke enough to pull himself up and kiss Dante’s cheek gently, his purple eyes flaring to life in the luminescence of the moon.
“Hey babe,” his voice was meek but sweet, each word sugar-coated, “What’s up?” He looked to the clock questioningly. “Damn, Dante. It’s two-thirteen. Why in the hell are you still awake? Nervous about tomorrow?” His head fell gently on his mate’s chest as he began to massage the panda’s sheath, loving the warming sensation it brought.
The question was relatively dead-on, seeing as Sett was cruel enough to set A Night in Paradise up with an opening gig only three days after auditions. The three songs were relatively simple to remember, especially seeing as one was just a cover of Up All Night by Hinder, but the band hadn’t had the chance to practice together yet. Also there was the fact that Tyler was still in school, which would cause him to have both little time to practice between classes and studying and even more diminutive a time-span to get to the concert tomorrow. It seemed like everyone’s sense of time as going crazy. “Well, first an audition on a SUNDAY of all days and now a middle-of-the-week concert. I think that damned fox’s inner clock is going erratic. It’s slightly irritating.”
“Fox?”
“Yeah, Sett Corover,” the pink vulpine’s image was clear in his head, “our band manager.” The last word was a little shaky though, as he murred it out when the sensitive head of his hot prick peaked over his sheath and was grazed over by the cervine’s black finger.
Giggling, the deer did it again, moving close to Dante’s ear. His words were whispered, but sensual, “Was that okay, sir?”
There was no answer though, as Dante’s mouth linked with his passionately, their tongues tangling perfectly. The kiss was lengthy and so loving, even as Dante flipped around so that the covers fell off of them, showing their naked bodies as he loomed over the younger fur. Everything must end though as he pulled back, straightening up on his knees over the deer, showing off his now fully hard eight-inch, ebony-colored cock. It dangled, pointing straight at the young deer’s muzzle. The panda just let him sit there and take in the sight enjoying how easily it could manipulate him. It was rather cruel, Dante guessed, as the sub knew all too well that he was not to do anything too extreme unless he was given the command. Oh how he loved these torturous games. “So, Abel, do you want this?” He gestured dramatically to his prick as it pulsed and throbbed mere inches from the cervine whose mouth now watered. He went for it, thinking the question an invitation, only to be cut of by Dante’s hand, his eyes desperately tracing the spiral tattoo up to the smirk on the panda’s face. “Not yet, little fawn.”
Whining, Abel watched as his mate began to slowly stroke his meat in front of him. He wanted it in him, one way or another, immediately. He wanted to feel the throbbing member go down his throat as Dante face fucked him roughly. It was horrible watching but goddamn he was a masochist and loving every second of the exquisite torment. As the first drop of precum seeped from the slit though, he couldn’t resist reaching back for his own aching red cock. Dante, though, wasn’t going to have it. “Hands at your side! Or I can just restrain them. If I am forced to do that, though, I promise you that you won’t cum tonight.”
Reluctantly Abel obeyed, putting his arms down while he watched his sir masturbate slowly. The agony was slow for the cervine, but finally, his whole cock slippery with pre Dante’s hand fell and he moved his prick closer to his boy’s mouth. “Tell daddy how much you want it.”
“I want it so bad daddy. Please let this little fawn nurse on your hot milking cock like the cum-slut he is.” Abel was putting true emotion into it. He loved being so submissive and having Dante dominate and have all power over him. He felt safe with someone else holding the reigns, especially Dante.
Arching his neck, the panda leaned in to lap at the Muntjac’s neck before whispering with such deep seduction, “Then take it.” With that, he straightened up and crammed his entire length into Abel’s muzzle before beginning to piston in and out, savoring the soft tongue on his flesh and the tightness of the young one’s throat. And both were getting into it as Abel lapped his tongue around expertly while moving his head while Dante gently tweaked and pinched his boy’s nipple, enjoying every second of his wriggling and gasps. “Oh, that’s good, boy. You’re such a perfect little slut.”
As time went on Dante reached back and began to fidget with Abel’s member, stopping whenever he would come close, having learned long ago of the boy’s endurance limits. This went on for a good while as they simply taking in each other’s reverie and sensations. It was magnificent for them both.
Their moans and gasps were all that was needed as slowly, drops of rain began to pitter and patter against the window before they turned into thick sheets of water falling from the sky. The crystalline observers were all they needed as they showed their love to each other in the most beautiful of ways.
Finally, though, Dante pulled out. He wanted to mark his property once again. He wanted to fill the young deer up with his seed so as to call him his indefinitely. “Hands and knees, now!” It was an order, not a request, he was the alpha, and his omega could only submit. Finally, he had the cervine in a bitch’s position. So, with care he observed the fleshy backside before him, gently caressing the soft mounds of flesh and fur with a gentle hand before leaning in and touching his tongue to the tight hole of his mate. It was rare that he completely mated with Abel for that very reason: To keep him tight and top-notched. He let his tongue work, licking around the bud, sometimes just barely entering just so he could feel the deer shudder.
Then he moved his hand close, letting a single finger enter and pump. Even just that was enough to make the deer jump in sheer delight. It was absolutely adorable watching his face as he moaned to the ceiling. He couldn’t take it anymore though, as he lined himself up behind Abel, letting the tip press threateningly against the warm hole. He loved the baited breath of the boy as he waited, his very essence begging for the red panda’s cock to be inside of him.
And Dante did not disappoint as he rammed inside, soaking in the dramatic gasp of a moan that came from Abel’s muzzle. He then began to propel inside and out, knowing he was not hurting the young one, but giving him everything he wanted. Hard and fast he kept going, relishing the tight, wet warmth of Abel’s insides, knowing that it was all his. “Oh, you are such a bitch. Such a fine-assed bitch.” He nearly hummed it out with all he had.
Pumping and pumping. It seemed so blissful; he wasn’t entirely sure whether he could stop himself from- No. He could NOT stop himself at that point as he pistoned firmly into the whole with all of the adrenaline he had.
Abel just took it. It felt so amazing! Why would he want him to stop? The feeling of his ass being split and rammed hard was sensual enough without the surge of pleasure as his prostate was stimulated. He so wanted Dante to mark him as his, he wanted to forever be the panda’s bitch. He wanted to be that cool, quiet, warm-hearted man’s toy forever.
That’s when it happened. Dante exploded inside of his bitch, letting his cum fill Dante’s intestines, knowing that the warm, thick liquid made him his for as long as he commanded. And for him, he wanted forever. It just kept filling the cervine until finally, his prick was pulled out, and a trail of white seed flowed from the end of who he loved and traveled known his snow-like fur and over his balls and onto his stone-hard cock as he collapsed.
Wanting to satisfy him as well, Dante laid down next to him before flipping him over and positioning an arm under his head as he grabbed a firm hold of his hot, pulsing rod. “Now, cum for daddy, baby.” He stroked gently, letting the deer nuzzle into his neck-fur as he began to hump against his alpha’s hand. It didn’t take very long for his hot, gooey climax as his seed coated his stomach fur, blending in so perfectly while a few spot hit Dante’s cheeks, just as he had wanted.
As they both fell to the sheets, panting, they looked into each other’s eyes. Date brought a brown hand to his face to stroke up a string of cum and brought it to his tongue. He savored the salty but oh-too-sweet taste of his lover’s semen. “You taste delicious, babe,” he gasped out, laughing.
Abel chuckled quietly, “You know I’m all sugar and spice.”
They both then laughed prior to bringing their lips together again, before drifting off to awe spacious sleep.


“Goddamn buckles!” Dante screamed it out in the small room. It was your basic pre-concert wardrobe room; White walls and tiles with about five or six vanity mirrors, some chairs, a sofa, and a coffee table. He was on the couch, struggling with one of the two belts wrapped around the right sleeve of a new leather jacket he had bought. It was different, but he liked it. It was a little longer than a half-jacket with a white, faux-fur collar and slim, tight sleeves adorned with buckles. The best part for him, though, was that the sleeves zipped off. So he got to happily show off his coiling tattoo while having the other arm perfectly snug. He heard a gentle giggle from behind him, and he turned with a smile to Abel, “What’s so funny?”
The cervine pulled Dante back with his arms that were wrapped around his mate’s tight, muscular stomach. He had long been used to sitting in the deer’s lap, knowing that Abel was a very physical person, which he personally enjoyed. “Well, let’s see.” The gentle black fingers crept up the panda’s arm toward the strap of interest. “It should be,” he smacked the brown hand away as he easily straightened the problem out with no effort whatsoever, “Like that.”
Skeptically, Dante studied the band closely before grinning. “What would I do without you?” He leaned back, intertwining his fingers behind the deer’s neck. Rubbing his cheek gently against the Muntjac’s, he answered his own question, “I guess become acquainted with my hand.”
“T.M.I., panda.” The voice was hoarse and rough, like sandpaper. The Bengal tiger whipped by, her tail whipping against Abel’s knee rather hard. She had a small body, very lithe and well-sculpted. Her face though, was very cold, with narrow emerald eyes that seemed to wish death upon all who fell into their gaze. She wore a tight pink and black hoodie with skulls and stars on the left breast, some tight black jeans, a pink bandana with her long, orange hair brushed back straight until a tight curl at the bottom near her waist, and some black high-heels, which annoyingly clacked all the way down the row of mirrors until she positioned herself at the one nearest the window, and farthest from the duo on the couch.
Beside her another tiger, slightly taller and much more stocky straightened his hair quietly. “C’mon, now, Claire. Be nicer to the new guy, and the cute little fawn with him.” While he play-flirted, he felt hot metal clamp down on his ear. “Ow! God-dammit!” He pulled the straight iron away quickly before examining the now very sensitive appendage. It looked sort of cute as the big-bad tiger poked at the flesh under his fur. Yeah, definitely big. He was only about six-foot, but was molded tightly by clumps of muscle on every side and stripe of him. The design on his black t-shirt was distorted by his muscle, actually. It wasn’t intimidating either, as his baggy gray jeans, black sneakers, big green eyes, and spiked wristband just made him look like a big, fluffy, rocker teddy bear.
As he started back to straightening with a sigh, he felt his younger sister glare up at him from his side. “You’re such an idiot, Michael. And who are you to talk, anyways? If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t need newbies ‘cause Vince, Erol, and Trisha would still be here!” Roughly, she began to brush her hair for the millionth time.
“Well,” Michael kept his sleepy stare on the mirror this time, “They wanted to give up A Night in Paradise’s creative control of its music to a damned record company! You don’t see Sett doing that!” Satisfied with his hair, he switched the iron off and combed it to the right while gently mussing up the top. “There we go.”
For a second, she said nothing. Like the calm before the storm. But, that is only the “before”, as she slammed down her brush, breaking off the handle. “You know, you are the most selfish little-”
The sound of laughter ended her tirade quite nicely as three young men trotted into the room. One was a big lion with a pitch-black mane and soft sienna eyes, dressed in a red collared shirt with a golden ivy design on the front, faded gray jeans, and black dress boots. Then next was the wolf Dante had only met a few days prior, Avery. Once again he looked sexy, dressed in a red V-neck shirt with solid black pinstripes and black straps at the sleeve-ends, a black and red military-looking hat, a black studded belt hanging over the top of his shirt on his hips, black fitted jeans, and red and black sneakers. Finally, but certainly not least, was Tyler, who looked… absolutely amazing in the red panda’s opinion. He was wearing a white, sleeveless collared shirt with golden designs with it open in the front, a scarf wrapped underneath the flared up collar, underneath that being a thick mesh shirt, thin black jeans with golden flowers on the hips, and black, pointed-toe boots.
“Um, have we interrupted?” Tyler asked the question defensively as Claire pushed passed the group of young men. The three looked questioningly at each other for a moment, but nevertheless let it drop from their minds. “Um, Avery, Hunter, this is,” the otter motioned toward the tiger, standing with a new, bright smile, “one of the founders, whom up until now I have only talked to on the phone, Michael Darvess.”
“Yo! And, that angry woman who just passed by, was my rather pissy sister Claire.” The striped feline rested one hand on his hip as he waved to the newcomers with his other.
“And over here,” he changed his direction to the two on the couch, “Is my old friend Dante, and…” It took him a moment to register the fact that he had never once met or heard of the young cervine who sat behind his old acquaintance, “Um, I’m sorry. Who are you?”
Abel just giggled as he pushed off Dante and the chains of his black Tripp pants. Grabbing a hold of the brown hand before him, his mate helped him to his feet gently. He walked toward the group, the bottoms of his black jazz pants swaying gently with his hips. The three each took turns shaking his hand. It was rather formal for the occasion, but it was how Abel had been raised for introductions. “I’m Abel Black; it’s nice to meet the three of you.”
“Wow,” Avery said, looking the young deer over, “I love what you’ve done with your fur! It must’ve taken forever!” With that, everyone got comfortable as the two discussed their different routines for their fur and clothes among other things. Hunter, instead walked over and struck up a conversation with Michael over their workout regimens and sports, a regular guy-on-guy ice-breaker.
Dante flopped back down onto the couch, grinning as he watched everyone get chummy with each other easily. In the past he had spent quite some time around children, quietly isolating himself from the world as he watched over them as a loosely caring counselor. Now though, as he watched Abel happily stroking his fingers through Avery’s fur, commenting on how jealous he was of Avery’s fur’s volume, his small frame moving fluently in his tight vest-hoodie, he felt more involved. Even more as Tyler sat down next to him, his arms across the back of the couch and his right leg resting on his left knee. “Everyone seems very comfortable together, eh?” Once again he grinned as Michael and Hunter joined Avery and Abel. Seeing as Hunter had just told Michael of Avery’s involvement in football, the large tiger now had a fascination in the flamer-wolf.
“I suppose…” the otter’s answer was short and uninteresting, another trait Tyler had seemed to miraculously develop over their time apart. His voice was blunt and slow, causing the older Ailurus to turn and look at him questioningly. Dante found him staring at the ceiling with narrow eyes.
Worried slightly, Dante asked, “What’s up?”
Truthfully, ever since Tyler had met his old friend on Sunday, he found himself wanting to delve further into his past. He knew he could ask Avery and Hunter and they would probably tell him, but he had no clue on how to approach the subject. Remembering, Tyler recalled when he first woke up, his first “memory”, in the hospital bed. His parents kept rambling on about someone having died… but he was alive. And the first day he returned to school, as he thankfully had retained all of his schooling, just not how the knowledge had been acquired, he evoked the emotions of isolation, as no one came forward to say they knew and associated with him. The only one who did so was a coach who asked him to shoot some hoops with him. He had no interest in sports though… which seemed to sadden the coach. Finally though, when he had fallen down a small flight of stairs, and people walked around him as if he was nothing, Avery gently helped him to his feet with a resounding smile.
Had Avery been there before the accident? He didn’t know. He only knew that people seemed to resent him because of whoever he was before. Often they commented on how they preferred the “now” Tyler, though.
“Just thinkin’.”
Chuckling, Dante punched him playfully in the arm. “No need to be nervous. After all, there’re only going to be around three or four hundred people in the audience, I know that’s smaller than performing for your school! Wa-ay smaller!”
It was true, his school was huge, and he had played in pep rallies on special occasions like in the Veteran’s Day ceremonies. Nevertheless, “I’m not nervous, I’m stoked! It’s good nerves!”
“That’s good,” a cold, nonchalant voice said as a dingo, around Dante’s age, maybe a little older. “C’mon, Sett says it’s time for the show.”
“Um… who’re you?” Michael asked the dingo simply with a smile and an arched brow.
“Vincente Rodriguez,” He wore a gray blazer over a purple satin collared shirt, fitted gray jeans, and gray dress shoes. “Your drummer as long as this act stays afloat.”
His narrow golden eyes scanned the crowd before he turned back into the hall behind the stage.
“Creepy guy. Amazing with drums, though.” Dante said quietly as he and Tyler filed out into the hall, everyone following closely.


Avery swung his hips slightly, bobbing his head gently back and forth so as not to lose his hat in the fray. Everyone stood close, watching A Night in Paradise closely from behind the curtains of the stage. It was a pretty crappy stage, void of all but areas to store equipment, to power them, as well miscellaneous wooden crates that no one quite knew why they were there.
Dante was head-banging like there was no tomorrow, his short red head-fur bouncing with him through his solo. Vincente, however, was just casually sitting back, tapping the cymbals of his drums carefully in beat. Michael just stood casually, waiting, enjoying a break. Claire was carefully adding some techno backdrops to the guitar with her keyboard. And Tyler… well, to the crowd he was just turned toward the band, adding some suspense for the return of the vocals, everyone from the back could tell that he was really just near dead, gasping for breaths, sweat dripping from his face.
“A six-minute long screamo song is a little rough for a beginner vocalist, isn’t it?” Abel asked casually in the direction of the fox to his right, screaming over the riffs blaring from the speakers.
His eyes not leaving the stage behind his purple sunglasses, Sett readjusted his cream colored blazer of his white dress-shirt. “He’s gotta get used to it! Start ‘em off hard and it only gets better!” He moved some of his long head-fur, just as pink as the rest of him, from his emerald eyes.
Avery was about to say something worrisome over the otter as he let out a fresh scream, causing him to instead jump back against Hunter. He couldn’t hear him, but the wolf was sure it was a smart remark as he felt the cat’s stomach ripple with laughter.

“Do you know where I am?
This is Hell!
Who in the fuck are they?
Leathery wings? Black horns?
Fuck that!”

The song was certainly… much more violent than Avery had ever heard from Tyler before. It was actually a little startling to watch the otter, who he knew to be a very calm person, moving across the stage as if burning with fury.
It was good to hear him move back to his lighter voice as he sang the last lines slowly.

“And I realize, we are the only ones left…
So where are you?”

As the final sounds of music drifted away, the crowd lost it. All five-hundred people who had shown up were in love with the performance. Aver found himself smiling as he watched them out there. Such diversity! Straight couples, gay couples, even some who looked as if they were juggling both. Punks, Goths, preps, and even, gods help them, some jocks from their school. The band was loving it, as they smiled and caught their breaths.
It took a minute for the spectators to simmer down. “Alright!” Tyler yelled, arousing some accompanying sounds of approval from the rowdy crowd. “Let’s keep it goi-“
Dante was just happily watching his friend prep when he saw Sett motioning for him to grab Tyler for a moment. “Actually!” Dante interjected had sauntered over, his arm now around Tyler’s shoulder. “We need to take a very, very, very brief intermission. We just have a small matter to attend to!” Basically, dragging poor Tyler by his arm, Dante walked him over behind the stage.
Holding a hand over his earpiece mice, Tyler asked, “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, no. That was magnificent!” Sett said it with a happy hug, causing his blush to turn a deeper violet. “However, the next song is a slow song, and… I sort of want to you to have dance partner.” Everyone’s jaw dropped as Sett reached back and rubbed a hand through his head-fur.
“Why did you say anything sooner?” Tyler asked in complete disbelief.
“Uh… I’m an idiot. Anyways,” he turned toward the only three available participants. “Well, Hunter… too big. We need someone small and sort of submissive looking.” Hunter gave the vulpine a tight stare. “Um… Abel could work!”
“Sorry, I’m the jealous type.” Dante announced it with casual pride. He really wasn’t, and Abel knew it, but he also knew what his mate wanted.
Sett’s smile turned lopsided as he gave the Ailurus a tight stare. “Then we have only one option: Avery!”
The wolf’s face turned beet red as he looked to the otter. “Wait, why can’t you?” He turned interrogatively to Sett.
“Sorry, I’m the manager; it wouldn’t look good to my company’s higher-ups if I danced with one of the performers. Especially well I’m still trying to get the signed.”
Tyler and Avery looked at each other shyly. “Well, if you don’t mind,” Tyler looked at the wolf intently through his flush.
“It’ll be fine,” Avery took a double-take out at the throng in front of them, “Just a little stage fright.”
Hunter popped the wolf in the back of the head playfully. “You play football every week in front of more people than this.”
“Yeah but… that’s not as intimate as slow dancing,” he would have continued but the vulpine hushed him as he pushed Tyler and Dante back onto the stage, another uprar emerging from the masses.
Dante, close behind Tyler’s back, whispered to him, “Call Avery in after the second line, you sly bastard.” He gave an almost audible smile as he positioned himself a few feet from Michael, in front of Claire.
The music started unwavering, Tyler gulping as he listened to the gentle melody between the keyboard and guitars. To think he would be dancing with Avery, in front of all those people… He was scared beyond mere words. Something about that idea was just so… confusing? He felt both mortified and a little turned-on. It was strange.

“All the diamonds, and all the hearts, living in this house of cards.”

He hoped his voice was stable. It sounded a little shaky to him, but he couldn’t muster any better in that situation.

“But only you have I seen, sitting under the glass shards.”

Taking a gentle breath, he gestured his hand towards the backstage. Avery, startled, but aware, took a final look at Hunter, who gave him a smile and one thumb up, before taking his first steps on stage, moving as gracefully as he could toward Tyler. Sett had specifically focused on him trying to turn heads, so he batted his eyes and swung his hips gently.
The crowd seemed to enjoy this as several whistles and cheers erupted, overlapping a few sounds of disapproval. Tyler, his cheeks burning crimson but hidden by the matching lights on the sides of the stage, reached out a hand slowly, up turned toward the wolf. He could not even fathom what he was feeling. He… he…
Carefully, Avery wrapped a white hand around Tyler’s, as the otter pulled him in closely, their bodies touching intimately. Gently, their groins ground closely, making them both blush in harsh embarrassment, it wasn’t uncomfortable, though, as the white wolf wrapped his soft, gentle paws around the vocalist’s neck, tangling his fingers snuggly. In turn, Tyler, to his immense dismay, was left to lay his hands lightly on his friend’s rather feminine hips.

“Behind the stained glass,
We can see the stars, they’re shooting.”

With delicacy, they began to take patterned steps so as not to get in anyone else’s way. Fortunately, neither could see the satisfied smirk on Dante’s lips as he watched them, Avery’s head resting on Tyler’s chest as he resting his chin on the wolf’s scalp. They were a pretty cute item… after all.

“Together, we hold our hands.
In the deck we wait,
The Ace and the Queen as the gambler’s gambit.
We can hold our lips close, and fade into the black sky.
Love leaves scars.
But with each other, we can sew them away.”

Tyler truly was unsure as he moved onto the chorus. In the corner f his eye he saw the crowd. The remaining too had paired up, holding their other or friend close. So close. He couldn’t even hear anything as he felt the warmth beneath him. The music, the people, the place. They were all gone as held that wolf with white fur, with eyes like soft cherry blossoms.
It was over in an instant as the music died, and the stage went dark. The roar of the crowd was overwhelming. A Night in Paradise’s first show… was an unquestioned hit!
For just a moment, the two looked at each other through the darkness. They were
oblivious to the other band members behind who hugged and gave celebratory shouts, even Vincente and Claire. They didn’t know what to say to each other. So, rather than words, Avery moved close his friend and gave him a tender kiss on the cheek and planted his hands on each side of his face. “I am so proud, Tyler. You are so amazing!”
Taking his hands from Avery’s hips, slightly relieved and slightly irritated at the same time. “Thank you.” He said it in a small voice, a little shaken from the sudden reassurance.
Over the next few minutes, everyone gathered the equipment and traveled backstage for some celebratory drinks.
Vincente had the honor of pouring red wine for everyone of course, he couldn’t complain, it was a self-volunteered job. “Y’ know, Vincente.” Sett, as he went back for his third glass, Vincente tipping the bottle over the rim of the fox’s glass. “If I recall from the information you gave me. You’re a cop, right?”
Immediately, all eyes shot to the dingo, especially the three minors in the room. It was an unexpected announcement, but the canine just waved it away with quietly. “Please,” his voice was quiet but gruff, “I have a sixteen year old son that gets away with more than this.”
Everyone just laughed and resumed with their individual conversations. Tyler let his body fall loose again as Dante looked at him with relief. They stood in the corner, Tyler leaning into it as the red panda kept balance against the wall, not at all shaken by the alcohol. “You’re not drinking very much.” Tyler was rather blunt by that point as his face flushed gently against the artificial light of the room, his right hand fiddling with his scarf un knowingly. He was pretty gone by that point.
“Yes, well. My little friend over there can’t hold his alcohol.” Tyler glanced drunkenly over to where Avery sat on the couch, his arms slumped over the back with an empty wine glass flowing ‘round and ‘round in his hand carefully while Abel, drunk beyond words, lay in his lap, laughing at a rather vulgar joke Claire made. She certainly had lightened up after a drink or two… or six. “So I’ve got to drive.”
The otter looked at him with pity, “Sucks for you, Hunter’s my ride. And it takes enough alcohol to send people into a stupor to even get him buzzed!” He was much louder than usual with a refreshing laugh.
Dante said nothing as Tyler downed the rest of the drink. He had to ask. He felt a little guilty, after all. “Uh, hey Tyler.” His friend grunted and smiled lopsidedly, giving him a once over look. “Well… about when I kissed you… in the café.”
Immediately, the alcohol seemed to flow from his systems, as Tyler, completely sober now, stood up straight. “Yeah?”
Dante paid no attention to the random change. He knew all-too-well that alcohol did little to a serious subject. “You are still bi right? I mean… It’s been years since I’ve seen you. You were only thirteen, as was Andrew. Just two campers and their seventeen year-old cabin counselor out for some fun.”
Tyler saw some reminiscence in the Ailurus’s eyes. He wished he could join it. But he hadn’t a clue about where to even begin to try and remember. As for the bi thing… “Well, I’m not really sure.”
Dante didn’t look at him, just asked, “And Andrew?”
The otter’s spine went cold. He didn’t have a clue where the guy was, or who he was to begin with. “I- I don’t know.” He needed a lie. Lies built on lies, not really the path he wanted, but… he wanted to feel close to this person. Regardless of what he had to do or say. “We split up and just sort of…. lost touch.”
“I see…”
“But… I do know that…” Tyler looked into the Dante’s steel-like eyes deeply. “That kiss… didn’t feel wrong. And,” He had to say it. Of all people, he felt, from the feelings of memories long since covered up, “I think I’m… falling in love with Avery.”
Dante wasn’t surprised in the least as he rested a hand on Tyler’s shoulder, completing the connection the both wanted. He had so wanted to hear that. From the second he saw Avery he had seen Andrew in his shadow. The same smile… the same posture… the same demeanor. Leaning in, knowing everyone was virtually to drunk or too unaware to care, Dante kissed his friend again, this time drawing it out. He felt like he had started the pendulum swinging he only prayed that the clock would keep on clickin’.

[SleepingPup567]

w00t! This one was easy! It's waaaay short and there isn't much to it. However, it sets up what might be the most important part to the story.

If anyone knows a site for furry writers to post these types of stories... please tell me. I really need to put it somewhere where it fits and people go there to read THIS type of story.




Chapter 6: Walking Blind
December 21, 2010

Luck; the events or circumstances that operate for or against an individual. Some people don’t believe in it. Some do, but just ignore it. Others use it for their profit. From that use, various games have been developed. One of the most famous…

Eyes shifted, narrowed, throughout the crowd. Everyone was focused, patient, playing a game of cat and mouse with luck as their host. Most were curled closely to the table, their cards flared like a vision-shield. It was like trying to make a wall between them and the competition. However, a certain lynx was actually having fun with it, leaned back, a cigarette hanging limply from his mouth, one arm hanging over the back of the chair. His eyes were relaxed as he watched his hand. He would win. Luck was on his side.

Ever fretful, to Chris’s left a rough-looking, long haired falcon was nearly sweating away the maybe five dollars he was left with from the five hundred he came with. “I… I’m out.” Folding his cards, he laid them gently on the table, tucking the bill he hadn’t bet into his wallet, disgruntled.

Continuing to his left was a young, blonde wolf who was the only one who came here with less than a hundred bucks, slowly betting away with his insignificant bets. Left with roughly thirteen dollars, he wordlessly folded.

And on down the circular table, a red and white husky, more angry than sad, especially with his engagement ring sitting in the pile of bills, slammed his cards down. “You fuckers are bleeding me dry!”

His mate, whose tabby face was normally the many shades of bark, had a flaring crimson look of pestering. Glaring at him once more with a look of, “We’re over, bitch,”, she put her cards down as well. “I fold.”

Then a pumped white stallion merely through his into the air. His cheeks flushed, he took another swig from the bottle in his hand. “Gotta fold, daaaaaarlings.”

A large congregated sigh arose from all but the equine who now lay down on the ground, singing a gentle a capella of “Oh Danny Boy”.

“Laying down his pair of twos, the lynx, the only player left, reached into the center and stuffed his winnings into a duffel bag he had brought with him. “Thanks, ladies and gents! You’ve been a wonderful audience!” With all mouths agape, and nothing precious left in the useless, rundown, single-room apartment, the lynx waved to them all as he walked out. “Whoever leaves last lock the damn door!” With victorious courtesy, he shut the peeling white door.

Taking a deep breath out on the green metal walkway outside of the third-story home, he immediately wished he had done differently as he got a fresh smell of the town’s ghetto. It was just a smell though, so he descended the stairs, coughing and hacking. He knew all-too-well what a stereotypical rich kid he was, and he damn-sure enjoyed it.

It was the dead hour, perfect for the rather dead day it had been. No drama, no sex, just a straight day of school with no events. Oh well, those were the days to play poker, Chris supposed. Spice things up a bit.

The town was quiet in the area, and most of the street lights were out so it was dark as well. He was used to the walk though, feeling the cool air move through his fur. It felt nice to be wearing some baggy camouflage pants and a black tank. Something simplistic. He so much more preferred it over dress-shirts and ties. However, being from such a high class family, the only time he got to dress down was for this. Obviously wearing fancy threads were a good way to get mugged in that area. It was worth it though to go out and earn money himself, being independent from his parents’ tyrannical wages. They thought he just went out and wasted it though, so they always, against his protests, sent him a couple more hundred dollars into his savings every month or so. He found it annoying, seeing as he nearly never spent money himself, feeling free to dip into family funds to host his parties. In fact, the last week, being bored one night after doing his calculus homework, he had worked out his saving, and he had found that he had enough money to pay for an actual house and live comfortably in it for at least three years. Yep, he was quite the lucky bastard.

Moving through the streets carefully and quietly, he thought back on his rather clichéd life. It was such an over-used story, he actually found himself annoyed looking back. His parents were seemingly never around when he was younger, thus bringing the cliché to life. He could remember so many faces waking him up, dressing him, driving him, checking his homework. All were butlers or maids. None shared the smallest prick of blood with him.

Chris was a very studious creature, often finding himself book-worming to find answers deeper into something he heard. Once, he had heard that each person fit into on of three different styles of remembering. It was just a pinch of knowledge that he had loyally followed up on. So, he had found that everyone either visualized something, remembered by noises or sounds, or remembered by touch. Of course, all aspects came with memory, but one of the three was always dominant. Through some tests he had discovered himself to be a visual type. Ever since he became annoyed with how his mind tended to exaggerate that trait. The lynx could only sigh as his memories popped up onto the walls of the buildings down the long, narrow, dark street like an old movie reel. He hated that he had researched that crap.

To his right he saw a young lynx, with bright golden-orange eyes. He was just a cub, no more than three feet tall. He was troubled by a math problem. It appeared to be multiplication, four multiplied by itself, to be exact. He felt so stupid, and was staring at the problem as if it was Russian or something. Numbers had never been, and would never become, the kitten’s strong point.

Behind his old self, a maid, a golden lab with a very stern appearance, tabbed a pencil against her dress. “Come now! Don’t be an idiot! This is so simple!” She was booming, annoyed for no good reason. He was just at a small obstacle. “You will never be able to take over the company in place of your father at this rate!”

Chris had hated home-schooling he hated feeling secluded from the world with only these snooty older people who either wordlessly served him, or harshly criticized him. “But.,” he muttered the objection quietly, afraid. “I want to! I want to make daddy happy! I’m just not that good at math… is all.”

Looking at him with her beady eyes, she bellowed! “First: Don’t talk like a commoner! The correct term is arithmetic!” The young kitten, not expecting the yell, reeled back from the frightening noise. He hated having someone yelling at him. They always seemed so much bigger than him. “Secondly: You should be happy your father doesn’t disown you! You were just an accident to begin with!”

He had to look away from the memory. He knew what came next, and he didn’t want to see it. He remembered being flogged for what turned out to be two hours with that school cane for his outburst, and further for becoming weak-kneed and vomiting during the punishment. He had been so weak and oblivious to the open, waiting world around him.

Then, to his left, was his most proud moment. He felt sorry for having gotten a butler fired for it, but it was, in hindsight, the wisest decision he could ever have made.

It was a family reunion, with mounds of family over at the mansion. It was dinnertime. The table was, like many things in his home, comically big for his father’s rather fanatical tastes. At the end he could see himself to the left of his father who sat at the end of the table. This had happened only six years prior, so his developing face was all too familiar. Everyone was dining exquisitely, even the maid who had so long ago beaten him senseless; who had since become the head-maid of the house, ate with him. The food was delectable. The best faux-meats, vegetables, fruits, and breads were being handed about so casually.

Slowly, but with dignity and a resounding smile, his past self stood, clanging a spoon against his wine glass, having chosen that night to have his first taste of alcohol with his parents’ approval.

“I have a joyous announcement everyone!” Normally, he supposed, a family would have just kept going, no matter how officially and politely and announcement was presented, ignoring a young child. He was his family’s livelihood, their heir so to speak, though, so the diligently laid down their utensils, looking to me. “As you all know, my father’s bill of health for at least another twenty years has been announced by his doctor!” Many quiet murmurs sounded throughout the gathering. “And, my oldest sister, Gweneth,” he made light gesture to the little girl to his left, “has tuned five this past week!” The news seemed so random and un-connecting, that everyone shared more murmurs, more confused than ever. His parents looked at each other as if he was a loon, his father nervously raking a brown hand through his head-fur while his mother, a gray wolf whom he thankfully inherited no genes from, toom another sip of white wine when nobody was looking. “You might ask: What do these things have in common? Family well-being? Simple catch-up? No, nothing so loving and righteous.” Building up emotional suspense with silence, he came right out with it, “Today I have been enrolled in the next year of Alamston high school as a sophomore.” The family let out gasps and wretches. They were beyond shocked. “And thusly, I pass on my roll as the next head of Farlow-Corp onto my younger sister, Gwen.” His father was dumbfounded, in awe-struck silence.

Chris needed to see no more as he looked down the street, the memories fading away gently. Boy had he gotten it for that stunt. He had been grounded for four months. His parents didn’t stop him nor resent him though, as they passed his duties onto Gwen, who was progressing quite well along with Chris’s youngest sister Elle. It was great to be living life on his own terms. He had smiled that night, and every night since.

Except for when Moses died, though. He could see the dog’s face, smiling in the sky, like something out of Disney. Moses had saved him from bullying even before he had entered Alamston High, once his rather rebellious nature found him sneaking away from the mansion day after day. All the way until he had killed himself. He could still see the blood, feel it. Cross though, had taken on a new light. He had always liked the smaller collie, though he was much more delicate than his brother. So much more delicate. Becoming his best friend though, since Moses’ death, had been an experience he loved, even enough to have taken a shot at a relationship, which ended badly when he tried to top the cute canine.

He could see the lights from his neighborhood clearly over the last few dingy bars in his way as he took a left away from the street that he would then dub as “Memory Lane” to be a smart-ass.

A loud noise startled him, a bang it sounded like firecrackers. Inistictively, he pressed against the walls of the building to his right as he saw fire-light leak from a small empty plot between two structures. These places were very shaky. So, in response, he pulled out his phone. Honestly, he had quit his father’s dream to be something probably considered far below where his father stood. A policeman. The lynx wanted to make the city safer for those he cared for. He had many a time called the cops in risky situations just to serve what justice he could for the time being.

The words “stuff”, “pay”, “shipment”, and “confidentiality”, most of which were pronounced wrong, made him put together the structure of what was a drug deal easily. So, he called it in as a loyal, though he admittedly knew, idealistic citizen.

He knew what to do next, as he folded his phone and prepared to stash his phone away and leave before the cops got there. A load of gambling money wouldn’t look good on his account as he ran a hand over the edge of his duffel bag’s strap. He’d be fine.

…If someone from his house hadn’t decided to call him at that moment. The ring was unmistakable.

“What was that?” a shifty voice asked roughly. He had nowhere to hide or get away to before they would see him. So rather, he decided to make the job a little easier on the cops as he dropped his bag and rounded the corner.

Four guys. That was it, luckily for him. It was nothing big, so he doubted he had to worry about weapons other than maybe a knife. Those lowlifes were nothing, he surmised.

One was a sharp looking German Shepard leaning against the brick wall wearing no shirt and in only dirtied denim jeans. The others were two apparently twin foxes who were heading in his direction, he supposed to find the source of his sound. Then, across from the Shepard, was a hooded figure who was handing over some money for what appeared to be cocaine in a sandwich bag.

That same hooded figure wasn’t exactly stupid, either, as he quickly retracted his hand and took the drugs while taking off. His hood flew off just as he passed. He was a hyena. That much was certain, but his face was hidden by shadows as he ran, his mane and tail, Chris noticed, were tipped by purple. One had just got away, but as one of the foxes rushed to catch him, Chris went into overdrive.

He ducked the fox in his direction, and jumped into the air, one foot landing on the cheek of the other fox. He pushed; slamming the vulpine’s head into the brick building nearest him. Chris wasn’t exactly a person to underestimate. If Moses taught him anything, it was how to fight.

As the other fox centered in on him from behind, he twisted, catching his right hook and knocking out from under the fox his right leg. Next, he grabbed the vulpine’s throat and slammed him into the ground, ending it with a hammer-fist to his abdomen.

With both losers out and gone, the feline turned to the German Shepard, who was dumb-struck against the building. Chris knew the formula, strong henchmen, smart but weak leader. So, Chris just gave him a straight-up right hook to the head, grabbed his bag around the corner and hauled ass.

It took a while to run home, but as he turned back, away from the rope that hung out of his window, he saw the police lights flaring near the site of the confrontation. He felt pretty damned proud too.

But… the hyena with the purple in his fur was pricking at his head. He had a bad feeling about having let him get away. A really bad one.

[SleepingPup567]

May have noticed the absence of chapter 7 after all this time... Sorry. My computer and I are at odds. So it could be a great while before I post again.

[SleepingPup567]

I'm definitely doing a rewrite on this, and I'm going to post it somewhere more appropriate for its subject matter.

So,if someone could please delete this thread, I'd be really thankfully.