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

[SleepingPup567]

Alright, here's a furry slice-of-life I've been writing for a little while now. I've only got chapters 1 and 2. I've got chapter 3 well under way though.

WARNING: This story contains multitudes of male/male and male solo sexual content between anthropomorphic characters. If you don't like it, don't read it. If you do, don't be afraid to give me some contructive criticism to help me.

Hope you like it!


Prologue

The room was stilled, frozen in time. All eyes were locked on the gunman, whose eyes burned with irrational murderous intent. It seemed that even breathing had stopped just for that moment, as one could even hear the individual “Pitter-Patter” of each drop of rain outside as it hit the ground and buildings.

Filled with the sent of coffee and pastries, the store’s air was heavy with fear. The intentions of this man were clear to the two boys in the corner of the coffee shop, whose interlocked hands fell apart as they stood, their eyes now too fixed on the barrel pointing at them. The faint breaths they heaved were marred, labored, as they thought, quickly, debating what they should do. They couldn’t get away, backed up in that corner of their own pre-destined accord.
A noise seemed to shatter the stunted time like glass. It was a scream, the boys believed; their minds racing at an amazing speed, as a rushing sound filled their ears completely, deafening them. They wanted to scream too, to run from that place as everyone else was, but they had no way to get out… They were as good as dead.

Finally, one of the boys unclogged their throats, as, hoarsely, they spoke, “What… What are you doing?”

“What?” The murderer-to-be asked, as a bone-chilling cackle filled the air, over-flowing from his lungs. It was sickening to listen to, and both boys’ stomachs did somersaults. “You are such a naïve fool. I’m going to kill you of course.”

“Th-There’s no need for such a thing,” the second boy, for the first time, spoke, “What happened to you was your own mistake! Don’t drag us into it!”

That murderous gleam narrowed, becoming the eyes of nothing short of a monster. Being spoken to in such a manner was not the proper way to speak to the person who held your life in his hands, your current “god”. The madman saw himself in that visage, as the boys’ personal god. He could kill them both, leave one alive, while the other died, or maybe just scar them for life. He could adjust to that dominancy, to being peoples’ god.

He cleared his throat, smiling that arcane smile of his, as he spoke slowly, with a knife-like edge to his voice, “FUCK YOU.”

Time once again came to a halt, as the man pulled the trigger. The gunshot was ominous, forever-echoing in the small room. Neither boy could follow the bullet, as they braced each other with steel-like grips. Before they knew it, it was all over.

“AVERY!!!!”


Chapter 1: The Clock Starts Ticking
December 17, 2010

The night was gentle, as the moon loomed quietly in the sky. The stars danced happily over the suburban town as the smell of salt water filled two boys’ nostrils fully as they laughed. Theirs was one of few cars on the road at that time of night, they knew, as they saw the clock land on ten in the small crimson Hyundai.

One was a small, slightly feminine arctic wolf, his white fur softly flowing as the air from the open window slid through it. Sparkling, his light pink eyes were bright with embarrassment as his cheeks shone the same tone as his friend made a joke about him and a teammate on their team’s football team. “Shut up, Hunter! I wouldn’t do that! Have you looked at the guy?” Almost defensively, he readjusted his varsity football jacket, its purple and yellow material clashing with the rest of his outfit, a white button-down lacking a collar and fitted white jeans, accompanied by black dress-boots. “He looks like a damn potato!”

To his left, Hunter, a golden-furred lion chuckled heartily, his black mane bouncing with his body, overflowing to his front to half-hide his personal varsity jacket. His style was a lot more relaxed than his wolf friend, as he wore a basic white tank, with tattered, torn jeans, and gray running-shoes. He was also a bit heavier built than the wolf, his muscles rippling with each sputter of laughter. “You got that right! I swear the only reason he’s on the team is because momentum’s on his side!” With that, they both let out another giggling fit, both grateful Hunter was a talented driver and kept them straight regardless. “Oops!” He yelped as he roughly pulled to the side of the rode, by an act no short of a miracle missing a black Volkswagen. Happy they were safe, he yelled out the window, his brown eyes meeting midnight blue ones. “Nearly missed y’, Tyler. It’s all that damn black you’re wearing! C’mon Ave, let him in.”

“Right, right,” Avery said as he hopped out of the car to let Tyler slide into the back of the car, his light blue tail playfully slapping the wolf’s face. Before sliding back in, Avery took a look around, his nerves jutting uncomfortably as his eyes scanned the dark neighborhood. It was all too common to be jumped here. All the damn streetlights were broken for hell’s sake! Of course, it didn’t matter to Tyler’s father, he was probably hoping that his son would get a nice crack on the head and “come home”. However, as he turned to the bridge to the left of the house, he couldn’t help but be humbled by the distant lights of Sacramento in California’s inland. He wasn’t jealous though, he loved the small island he lived on. The three-mile bridge to the American homeland almost made it feel like a whole other country, giving it an adventurous air.

“Yo, Avery!” The young canine jumped around to the blue-furred otter, resisting the urge to laugh as he always did, knowing all too well that that fur-color was a mean prank on his and Hunter’s part from months past, but had eventually become the once brown otter’s signature color. “You gettin’ in or what?” Tyler asked, a smart ass’ed grin on his face. It was faces like that that made Avery happy Tyler was himself, and hadn’t “come home”.

“Yeah, yeah.” The wolf blushed as he resumed his seat, closing the door quickly as he noticed many of shadow-marked eyes upon him. “Drive, cat.”

“Shut the hell up, pup. I’ll go when I damn well want to,” Hunter faux-seriously snapped as he did an immediate U-turn. “Now, where’s this place you’re heading, Tyler?”

The otter, going through the large coffin-like carrier he had brought with him, his black beanie, thin black shirt with just slightly elongated sleeves, black jeans, and black sneakers nearly completely camouflaging him against the black interior of the car, replied without looking up, his eyes focused on his guitar’s tuners or whatever in the hell they’re called, “It’s that new music café, you know, the one on Median Street, The Blue Crag.”

Avery smiled, glancing over his shoulder, “Another band tryout?”

“I’ll keep trying until my fingers fall off or my vocal chords stop working.” Tyler said that with pride, happy to be involved in anything having to do with music. Music was pretty much his life whenever he wasn’t with his friends, most notably Avery and Hunter, who he viewed as brothers. Of course his confidence in this instance was mostly pointed toward the new song he had written exclusively for this audition. He was going for the gold.

Hunter just chuckled, knowing his friend was extremely talented at music. “I don’t think you’ll have to wait that long, Tyler. You’ve got an amazing voice, your luck just hasn’t been holding up very well lately.” Reaching back, he pet the otter’s knee reassuringly, his eyes never leaving the road.

Tyler just sat there, frozen, his icy eyes staring at that hand nervously, trying to muster up the strength to move it, but too afraid to touch it. So, he moved his leg in an attempt to drive the message home to Hunter, who, after realizing that what he was doing was off-putting for the otter, quickly retracted the hand to the steering wheel. “Eh, sorry.”

“Oh,” Tyler said, his cheeks now a bright violet, “It’s not a problem.” To prevent an oncoming silence, he decided to change the subject. “So… where are you two headed tonight?”

Avery smirked; it was all too good to have brothers who didn’t dwell on things. “We’re headed over to Chris Farlow’s place. His parents are off and he has permission to throw a party for Friday’s big game. Last game of the season, you know?”

The otter scoffed, “So, a bunch of dumb jocks, excluding you two, and ditzy preps. Sounds like REAL fun.” Finally, he closed the case in his lap just as the first lights of the city appeared, erasing their home of suburbia.

“Hey, hey now,” Hunter said as he eased around a car that was going far too slow, “True, the majority of the people on or football team… or really any of the sports teams, aren’t the brightest group of people, or the most morally correct.” Sighing, he slowed to a stop, motioning a young vixen and her kit to cross the street, waving at them as they did gratefully.

“But,” Avery continued for the lion, “Some of them are really good guys. Like, Chris and Cross for example.” The wolf smiled as a cute guy waved at him as they passed, recognizing him as a bar-friend that he met up with on rare occasions. “You’re right for the most part,” his smile turned to a fierce growl as a pair of gay and straight couples got into an argument on the opposite side of the street of where his friend had been moments before. He noticed that the straight guy was baring his canines fiercely, threatening the two gays, causing a small growl to emit from the lowest pit of his stomach, “Most of them are arrogant jerks. Did they really have to put this place here?”

Hunter had them parked in front of The Blue Crag, which they both quickly realized was sitting right on the border between the Western and Eastern districts of Alamston. Anyone with half a brain knew that the homo and heterosexual communities were scattered all about the city, but nevertheless, the fact remained that the majority of the gay population lived on its western side, causing the terms East-District and West-District to appear, darkly. Median Street just happened to be the unofficial division between the two, making it a place full of tension and frustration.

“I don’t know,” Tyler replied, as he took a short attempt to gather himself. “Supposedly, this place is supposed to open to everyone, gay, bi, straight, or otherwise. They probably thought that the location would be perfect for cementing that. They were ignorant it seems, of the fact that this will probably produce many arguments inside, some even turning physical.” He stared the building up and down, smiling. It was very interesting at least. The large blue neon sign of a mountain split down the middle by what seemed to be a bolt of lightning caught your eye against the building’s white bricks and black trim. “Nice place, though.”

Avery quickly jumped out of the car to pull his seat back, letting Tyler worm his way by. “Good luck,” he said quietly, giving the otter a half-hug.

“Thanks, Ave.” He turned back to the car,” And thanks for the ride, Hunter. I’ll see you two whenever you pick me up. Call first.”

“Yeah, alright! Good luck, bro!” The lion exclaimed before Avery crawled back in. Even with them both in, they had to wait and watch, to at least make sure Tyler made it to the door okay. It wasn’t a safe place at the get-go, after all.

However, as the blue tip of Tyler’s tail disappeared into darkness and cool-colored strobe lights, the two felt the need to let out a simultaneous sigh. “A party and a band audition,” Avery said tiredly, “on a Sunday. School tomorrow’s going to be a drag. What in the hell was Chris thinking?”
Hunter grunted as he reluctantly began the drive out of the parking lot, wishing he could stay and watch Tyler perform, rather than go party and resist the urge to drink himself to the point that vertical becomes every-which-way. “I heard the guys want to see who’s tough enough to last it out and come to school tomorrow.”

“Dumb-asses,” was the wolf’s only reply, excluding his guttural growl that arose when he saw a small street gang corner a gay couple out for the night-life.

The lion’s eyes narrowed as well, but he kept his composure straight as he saw a small police cruiser turn in on the scene. “Chill, pup. This world is full of shit-holes like that, but not everyone is like that. You have to admit, it’s gotten better over the years.”

Avery’s pink eyes trailed around to Hunter, showing a sort of lost confusion, “Yeah, everywhere but here.” He was, for the most part, right. The scars on his body were more than acceptable evidence for that.

The rest of the ride there was quiet, as Hunter hummed along with one of his favorite rock songs and Avery muffled giggles at how off-tune the lion was. Both raised there heads to look around as the city once again faded to suburbia. However, unlike the fringe they were used to, this one was lined with golden gates, large gardens with elaborate fountains, enormous mansions, and even bigger wallets on the area’s residents. Neither was entirely sure which house was Chris’s, as they had never been around him outside of school other than to meet with him and Cross for a movie every once-in-a-blue-moon.

Once they reached the end of the street, and a house with a large circular driveway surrounding an elegant fountain that seemed to be engulfed by roughly-parked cars and chatting teenagers, however, they were fairly certain they had found the place. So, finding the parking place that with prayer boasted the least chance of contact with a drunk driver, Hunter turned to his white wolf friend. “You know the deal,” his chocolaty eyes shone with genuine concern, “If anything starts up, you come find me.”

His eyes dim with innocent guilt, Avery nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

With that, Hunter’s serious stare turned to a wide, gleeful grin. “Alright then. Let’s party!”
They both unloaded from the car and took what would most likely be their last breath of the night not contaminated by the piss-mimicking smell of their teammate’s favorite beer. With that last breath, and a slightly forced spring in their step, the two moved forward toward the mansion, waving at some of their fellow football players, most of whom were busy with their own personal cheerleader helper, as they passed. It was like clockwork at these types of parties in their town, that the host would always be wary and waiting at the front door for two things: fellow sportsmen, and women with huge racks. Of course, both were aware that with Chris as host, both large breasted women and muscle-bound studs got a free ticket.

So, as they ascended up the stairs, the lynx seemed to appear from no more than vapor before them. “Hello, Hunt, Ave. How are my two friends this evening?”

Avery looked the cat up and down, admiring the how his flaming red T-shirt, black vest, and black slacks clashed with his orangey-yellow eyes. “My, my, someone looks festive, for someone too wimpy for football and fell for wrestling and power-lifting.” The muscled lynx had always caught the eyes of woman and man alike, especially seeing as he was built so that though he was a key player on his two teams, but didn’t look like a disfigured monster, so Avery wasn’t shy about laying down a little flirting.

Hunter just chuckled, patting the wolf’s shoulder, “Down, boy.” He turned to Chris, who was having his own laugh at Avery’s words, “We’re good. Hey, do you know if Cecile is here yet?”
The lynx’s ears perked up, “Who? That vixen on the cheer-squad with her red fur dyed brown?” Hunter nodded happily, nearly knocking the cat over as he rushed in the direction Chris pointed. “He’s still a damn fox-chaser, eh?”

Avery’s mood changed from upbeat and excited as the last bit of Hunter’s golden fur disappeared into the mass of dancing fur he could see huddled close in the spacious living room, to a dark, indifferent side. His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms defensively, doing a very convincing, ‘I hate you all’ façade. “Always.”

Normally, any other person would have been off-put by Avery once he put on that face, but Chris merely smirked. “You’re not fooling me, pup.” He gave Avery a small pat on his head, causing him to hide a blush by finding a sudden fascination in his boot’s strap. “Enjoy the party,” the cat turned to rejoin the festivities, but cut himself short, “Oh, and Ryan Love was looking for you. You know, your raccoon, fellow pigskin fetcher.” He saw Avery’s ears droop slightly, before straightening up even more fiercely than before. “I see… he’s still on it.” With that, he turned back into the dancing, finding a cute girl to grind hips with almost immediately.

The wolf felt shaken as he looked into the crowd of roughly moving fur, doing his best not to look at any of his classmates in ways they might not appreciate. He was looking as hard as he could, trying to pick out the raccoon he hoped with all his heart he wouldn’t see before the night’s end. Carefully, he made a mental checklist: blond, messy head-fur: negative. Seemingly lifeless gray eyes: negative. Annoying but oh-so-hot use of teenaged angst: negative.

Feeling that he might be safe for now, he took his first brave step into the Farlows’ living room. Immediately, he regretted it, as he was blasted with a mixture of beer, sweat, and… sexual fluids. It nearly blew the poor kid off his feet, but he pressed on, keeping enough manners to close Chris’s comically large oak front door behind him. Eyes scanning the room, Avery quickly found himself a nice secluded corner not occupied by couples about halfway in coitus and built a small wall between himself and the people around him, only shattering that wall every once in awhile to take a grimace-inducing drink of beer. He hated alcohol though, so he took it nice and slow, making that beer take up at least an hour and a half.

Now, he sat, secluded, in a chair he stole from one of his less preferred teammates, Nate Crysatte, who was now too preoccupied with the fact that Emily Huss’s pigtails reminded him of handle bars. He as bored to death, only smiling every now and then as Hunter or Chris walked over to give him an update on how their relationship escapades were treating them. He had to admit, he was fairly happy and proud of Hunter who had with all due honesty not let a drop of beer touch his lips, and got Cecile to water down her advances to a point that a relationship two-weeks into should be, gentle making out during slow songs. Chris however… well, let’s just say he was getting just a little more “out-there” each time he walked over.

The rest of the time though, he was studying Chris’s home. It was nice, with a beautiful black-and-white abstract theme. Many paintings were posted on the wall and had, by some miracle of whatever screwed up “god” or “gods” were watching them, stayed in the positions they had been when they arrived. It was a nice place, with a touch of retro and modernization all in one gulp.

However, as he stood, his eyes were focused only on the stairs. He prayed that the bathroom was upstairs, as he felt the impact of any alcoholic beverage hit his bladder out of nowhere. As he crudely managed his way up the stairs, it clicked in his mind once again that these parties were exactly like clockwork. Upstairs in any rich-neighborhood house was always used for “one-on-one time for couples”. If he was unnerved by the half naked masses below, hell only knows what he would make of this leap of fate.

“Like clockwork,” he whispered as he entered the upstairs hallway, being graced by moaning and naked bodies of people too drunk to realize that their doors were only half closed. The first spare-bedroom: “Nope.” The second: “How in the fuck is she that flexible?” The third: “… I’m going to walk away, and pretend that I never saw this.”


All that was left, to his dismay, as he peered around at the gold and brown color-scheme, was the master bedroom. Reluctantly, he took a step inside, and cursed as he realized the door didn’t lock, so he just closed it and hoped that people would get the message “privacy”. He knew homes like this well, all of them had once bathroom per bedroom. So, sure enough, as he found the master bath, he was hit by beautiful tan tiling, golden walls, and chocolaty trim. A large hot-tube style bath, a stand-in shower plenty big for two, and, to his glee, a toilet, standard rich-family supplies.

So, he unwound by letting himself go and doing his business. He had to scrunch up his nose when the smell of his urine met his nose. Anyone with half a brain, or nose in this case, could smell the extra hormones in it. He was one horny little bitch after being there for so long. He just opened a window slightly to let the smell vent. He didn’t want Chris’s parents to think something explicit had unfolded in their bathroom of all places.

As he washed his hands, the fact that and hour and a half, or now three-fourths, clicked in his mind. Absently, he picked his sleek crimson phone out of his back pocket and settles it around his ears, flipping the mouthpiece out and he said calmly, “Call: Tyler Scott.”

Grinning, he listened to Tyler’s ring-back, a bit of an old song called Hate (I Really Don’t Like You) by the Plain White T’s, before hearing Tyler answer, a little chipper than usual, “Hey, Ave! What’s up?”

The wolf leaned his back against the linoleum counter-top, crossing his legs in front of him, “Not much, just bored, thought I’d check up.”

“Aw, aren’t we sweet?” came Tyler’s out of character answer, that pretty much assured the wolf that something had gone well. “Why’s it so quiet, man?”

“Oh,” Avery blushed when he realized where he was still, “I’m in the bathroom.” He chuckled, his short-minded actions were amusing no matter what side you looked from. “Anyways, how’d you do?”

The otter on the other end giggles about something with an unfamiliar voice. “You must be dam bored to call from there, eh, bro? I did well though; I’m going to be A Night in Paradise’s new vocalist!”

The wolf let out a happy yelp that made him sound like so much of a flamer that he couldn’t have been any happier to be alone. “Congratulations! No surprise though.”

Again he heard that unknown voice say something, probably in the ear not occupied by Tyler’s phone. “Thanks,” the otter finally responded, “I’m thrilled! Also, I ran into an OLD friend. We’re about to head over to the coffee shop next door to chat, so I’m going to have to cut this talk short, sorry. We can act stupid tomorrow, alright?”

Avery was torn between a smile and frown. That emphasis on the word “old” could only mean someone Tyler couldn’t remember. He was happy that he was acting positive toward the reunion, but was worried about what other thoughts and questions this might have brought to Tyler’s mind, knowing all-too-well that the chances stood that neither he nor Hunter would have correct responses for them. “Alright, see you then.” He clicked the phone off, pausing only to dwell on those feelings for a moment before straightening them out and putting them to the back of his mind for later.

Opening the door, he took a final look in the mirror to make sure that he at least looked presentable. Of course, he was very cute, but always doubted himself. He was disgruntled to find that as he attempted to walk out the very door that he was sure was vacant of obstacles when he opened it, his face was buried in the gray fur of a very memorable neck. “Hey, hey now. I didn’t say start, pup,” Ryan said, coolly, flicking his blond bangs out of his eyes with a simple jerk of his head.

Avery instantly backed up, looking the raccoon up and down. He was wearing a cute pink, light-blue, yellow, and white striped polo shirt, a pair of baggy blue jeans, and brown sandals. Needless to say, Avery was startled to have walked into him, and was blushing hotly as he momentarily ogled over the attractive male before him. Logic though, presented itself stronger than vision, as he stepped around his teammate, their matching varsity jackets rubbing against each other in a flurry, into Chris’s parents’ room. “Wh- What do you want Ryan?” It was a question, but there was a weak-spine of a blade beneath the words.

“Oooooo,” Ryan moved forward, and Avery backwards, until he accidentally tripped over Mr. and Mrs. Farlow’s bed, landing on the brown material with a yelp. The wolf tried to sit up, but almost instantly, he found the raccoon on top of him. It was annoying, Avery was the only out-of-the-closet gay in his entire school, and was hated for it, yet this closet-boy wasn’t shy at all at coming down onto him, even with nearly a third of the entire school downstairs. “Now, now, Ave. No need to be rough. If you’re gentle with me, I’ll return the favor.”

Avery stuttered as the raccoon moved in for a kiss, “N-no, Ryan, sto-” The lips clenched down coldly, without love, only lust. Same with the tongue as it snaked its way into the wolf’s mouth.
After a moment or two, the raccoon sat up, and undid both of their pants.

“Why say no,” he pulled both of their pants and underwear down, grinning at Avery’s flaming-red briefs, “When it feels so damn good?”

Noting the raccoon’s already completely unsheathed seven inch cock had its knot already swelled to half-finished size, Avery gasped. “No, no, Ryan, no!” He put little effort to fight behind his words, as he fought an internal battle, and, though his mind was winning, his body had already forfeited. It was normal that way, they both knew. So, Ryan gave it little mind while he slipped a rubber form his wallet over his engorged member, grinning as he saw Avery’s finally immerge from its white sheath.

Giving his penis a few firm strokes, Ryan smiled as he quickly, now by feel and instinct rather than sight, found Avery’s tight pucker and slipped the pink head in. The warmth was so common to him now, that as he heard Avery’s gentle moan, he got a gentle, subtle, “welcome home” vibe. So, he thrust the rest of the way in roughly, feeling all but unwelcome and ignored Avery’s final plea for him to stop, knowing that while he pistoned in and out, as he started without wait or care, knowing that though the wolf hated it, he loved it.

Sex was blurry for Ryan, always. He couldn’t hear Avery’s moaning, or his own panting. He felt no love, no connection, not even real satisfaction. It was just his only outlet, and the wolf was his only, though unwilling, subject. He just thrust in and out, heartlessly, trying to force bliss into it, to find some hidden sadistic replenishment in Avery’s tears. He couldn’t.

Just as he felt nothing when he finally came, letting his seed fill the condom warmly. So, as the empty afterglow disappeared, he just jumped up, stripped off the condom, and flushed it down the toilet s he ran to straighten himself up in the bathroom. He wasn’t a very good person, but had the manners to at least pull up the wolf’s pants and briefs, buttoning them up before walking out without a last word.

He wasn’t sure what was happening, Avery. He could see the white ceiling, the gold curtains, and matching room, but he had forgotten their meaning. So, as he sat up, the image refurbished his memory. The brown and gold bed, cornered by four oak posts and a dark brown headboard, the picture frames of two lynxes and their three children, and the lingering musk of both he and Ryan.

It took him a minute to gather himself, as he dizzily sat up, confused as to how his pants had come up, but very much aware of the throbbing beneath his tail. He hadn’t even noticed the tears as they slipped down his cheeks, leaving wet, ghostly streaks down his white fur. But, they were always there after Ryan showed up, after Ryan hurt him, so he knew to wipe them away thoroughly as he got up to walk to the bathroom.

He just needed to see if he looked okay. Ruining the party wasn’t part of his plan, so he would just walk down, and say nothing. Well, first, he had to smooth his head-fur down, he noticed, as it was going just about every direction possible. So, as he tried to gather his breath, and whiten his red eyes, he didn’t notice anything wrong. He just kept smoothing and leveling his breath. Everything was fine.

But his body went numb instantly, except for his chest, which he gripped onto deafly. The pain was searing and abrupt. It was brand new. It was never a surprise like that, it always started dull and smoothed up to this red-hot feel. He tried to scream Hunter’s name. He needed him. However, the words refused to come out. So, he could only hope that, after his knees had hit something hard, he assumed it was the floor, someone was near.

-----------------------------

“How can you even suggest that?” Hunter raged. Screaming at the pug whose face was far too close to his own. He wasn’t sure how it had happened. The football team was all huddled in an arguing mass in the center of the living room. The music was gone, and only tense tempers remained as the other jocks from other teams sat on the edges of the room, interested only half-heartedly in the argument. “Avery is one of our best players! You seem to forget that if he hadn’t covered your and Simmons’s lazy asses last game, you two wouldn’t have even come close to those field goals!”

The pug, Allen, the same potato-shaped dog the two had joked about earlier snapped back sharply, “How does it look on all of us to have a damn fag on the team! How is it? After we win, we beat the shit out of him to prove who the alphas are!” There was a disgusting roar of approval from pretty much half of the teams

Hunter felt so betrayed, as half of the team was completely in favor of ramming Avery, someone who was pretty much his brother, into the fucking ground, while most of the other half thought differently, and the rest, like that damn closet-prick Ryan Love didn’t even give a rat’s ass!
“Hey, wait,” Hunter felt a light pull on his arm, stopping his rebuttal dead. He turned to Cecile, her green eyes showing confusion, “Didn’t Avery come with you, Hunt?”

Looking around the room, the lion tried to find that lump of white fur with beautiful pink eyes, but failed. He had assumed that he was just sitting quietly, ignoring the argument, trying his best to disappear into the white wall. However, he was just gone. “Yeah,” he finally said, “yeah, he did. Could you go find him, hon, make sure he’s okay?”

The vixen nodded eagerly. She was a smart, open-minded girl, and loved Hunter to death. She would have done anything for him, so if Avery was important to the lion, that was all the incentive she needed.

As that brown, white-tipped tail disappeared up the stairs, he was disgusted to hear Allen continue. “That’s another thing! Why is it that a fag as sick as him is on the team anyways. I bet its AIDS or something like that!”

“Enough!” Once again, hunter’s reply was cut off, as every head in the room turned to the biggest guy on the team, a border collie, Cross Newman. He shared two very important things with the wolf everyone was taking shots in the back at: Like Avery, he was a running back for the team, and worked with the wolf a lot. Also, he was gay and in the closet. Not just for fear of rejection by the rest of the school though, like certain idiots. No, his reasons were far more painful. “Avery has proven his worth and loyalty as both a teammate and friend on multiple occasions! Or have you forgotten, Allen, that were it not for Avery, you would have failed your second damn time at Algebra Two, and you wouldn’t even be playing. He dislikes you, and he’s not the only one! However, he extends a kind hand to you, and anyone else who asks!” Everyone was quiet, struck by dead silence. No one was foolish enough to question Cross. He was normally peaceful, but if you got him pissed… well… no one knows what would happen. Except for Chris, who stood in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, now sobered by the argument, smiling at his friend. He was proud of him for speaking up for Avery, as it appeared no one else on the team was to be that kind. He himself would have said something, but not being on the football team, it was out of his jurisdiction. “Now,” the collie said, his black and white fur seeming to be tensed by the realization that he had just said something so out-of-the-blue, “let’s just dance, this is a party after a-”

A blood-chilling shriek erupted throughout the house, as Cecile came flying down the stairs, running up to Hunter, and in a flurry of almost unrecognizable words, “Hunter! It’s Avery! He’s passed out in the master bath! I think he had an attack!”

The lion’s blood turned to ice, and it took him a minute to register what he had heard. This wasn’t the first time, but each time felt like the first time. He would be frozen in fear for his friend, paralyzed. Then, adrenaline kicked in, as he, in an amazing rush of flash-like speed, sped up the stairs and down the hall. The room was gold, and everything seemed right, except for the white- tail poking out from the bathroom, limp, lifeless.

Instantly, he was there, finding his friend curled up, his right hand loosely clenching his chest; the other sprawled out on the floor. “Ave! Ave!” He lightly shook the wolf, trying to get a sign of life. He waited, he needed a sign. Finally, he heard only the faintest raspy breath from the canine. Quickly, he gathered the wolf in his arms and rushed out, down the hall, descended the stairs. Everyone was staring, some in fear, some pity, some indifference and disgust.

Hunter was on a mission though, and didn’t stop. Even in the car he was speeding through, somehow turning on the car with one hand and hooking his emerald phone around his ear. He had to get in touch with Tyler. He hoped the otter was done. Their night of partying and otherwise, was over.

[SleepingPup567]

Oi... I hate the way the spacing works. I promise I'll work it out. -_-'

[SleepingPup567]

Chapter 2: Dead Wounds
December 17, 2010

A simple Sunday night was all it was. The otter took a deep breath, trying to reassure himself that that was all it was, as he took a glance at the sign again, somewhat amused by the blue mountain split in two by matching lightning. However, still nervous, Tyler turned around one last time as his left paw met the black wooden door frame, to meet Hunter and Avery’s smiles. Those two guys always comforted him. They were so accepting of him, regardless of the rough past he believed they had. Slowly, the wolf and lion had become his brothers, when his past friends turned on him for reasons unknown to him and him alone.

Wishing they would change their minds at the last minute and come to watch him, he walked around the corner, sighing as the small blood-colored car left the lot. They had to be there with the team, he was not their only loyalty, and wanting them there was selfish, that was how he saw it.

He instantly put on what little charm he had though, knowing that the results of that night would depend entirely on skill, concentration, and attitude. So, with a false pride in his step, Tyler took in the reception hall of The Blue Crag. It wasn’t much, just a small black hall with a… what was the word, “cute” did he think she was “cute”? He didn’t know, or care, really. She was a black furred wolf, wearing a tight black tee to show off her well-endowed bosom, though its low V-cut did little to hide it, the same with the stomach as it was torn short right above her belly-button, and a pair of black and white Tripp pants, with two chains resembling extra-long handcuffs, draping from her front belt loops and crossing to for an ‘X’ to her back ones. Normally, in that ghostly, night-black hall, no one would’ve seen her, but the blue strobe lights around her illuminated her just enough to show off her fierce, goldenrod eyes.

As he approached, he finally got a good look at the shirt, enjoying its words of wisdom to no end, as it read in sort of a warning style, “WARNING: Trespassers will be shot, and survivors will be shot again.” That alone told him she was a fierce dominant type. Conveniently, she wasn’t his type, but, then again, he didn’t really have a type… did he?

“Hello there, cutie.” Tyler was shaken out of his gentle, innocent thoughts, as she noticed him, her fingers now motioning for him to come over. Without catching onto the seductive gleam in her eyes, he followed suit, stopping right before her desk. “Is this business,” she leaned in close, her nose just gently touching his crotch, “or pleasure?”

After that, he caught on quickly. Best get to the point if he wanted to not have his first “experience” with a horny wolf. So, the blue-furred otter backed up, causing her to scowl, and raised his guitar up, blocking her from even seeing his front. “Business.”

She just flailed back and raised her arms up into the air, defeated, “No guys horny enough for this Mama in this whole damned town, huh?” He just shrugged off the comment, not knowing what to make of it. “Fine, musicians’ discount, ten bucks.” She held out an arm for the bill as she began to rummage in her cluttered desk, cursing every so often when flesh came in contact with something it didn’t need to. Not even looking back into his wallet he pulled out the bill and laid it gently in her paw. Just as he did, she came up with a glowing blue bracelet that she wrapped around his wrists just slightly roughly.

After that, the wolf, who Tyler now identified as “Kelly” as his frightening blue eyes found the brass table on her desk with her name, just sighed and leaned back. “If you’re trying out for A Night in Paradise, talk to Sett Corover.” Opening his mouth to ask who that was, his muzzle was met with her hand, which smelled, to his fortune, of lavender and chamomile rather than something, as he would have guessed from her appearance, along the lines of vaginal juices. “Trust me, he’s ‘different’ you’ll figure out who he is, or,” she looked intently at his blue fur, “seeing as you both seem to have had a bad experience with fur dye, he’ll come after you.”

With that, she shooed him into the main room, which nearly took his breath away. He loved it, as he looked the black room up and down, it had a round black and white bar illuminated by white lights against the black wall, and the middle of the room bore multiple small couples’ tables with light blue candles in matching crystal candle-holders, which sent multiple patterns skimming along the floor. The best part though, was the stage. It was huge! It, like everything else in the room it seemed, was circular, but pearly white with blue and black curtains along the sides and in the back. Tyler instantly had a feeling that the night was going to be good.

He looked around, trying to find the “interesting” man, but failed to see anything outstanding. All he saw were about five or so men at the bar, laughing and having a good time as they swigged some beers down, and about sixteen or so people out in the middle of the room, many of whom were tuning their guitars. They were his competition. None of them were particularly menacing looking, especially the drummers who just sat, nothing to do. However, as he turned around, he had to do a double-take, staring at the guitarist at the table closest to the stage. He was a red panda, not wearing a shirt, and bearing a black heart on his chest as well as a matching spiral tattoo coiling around his left arm, with cool silver eyes, in extremely tight, torn red and black plaid jeans. He felt what he usually felt as he stared at that boy without his shirt on, the same feeling he got when he saw a woman without a top or a bra: pure confusion. It wasn’t attraction that had him staring but… familiarity. Something about that panda, who had to be even younger than he was, one could say, nostalgic. He knew him from somewhere, but where?

The otter couldn’t dwell though, as the panda turned those cool pools of silver onto him, causing him to turn about-face. He just tried to play it off as he was looking around, scanning the place, as he had originally been, before taking a seat in the nearest, unoccupied table. He hadn’t found Sett Corover, but after being caught gawking at that boy, laying low was on his agenda.

After sitting and watching the other tryouts, happy to see the panda had turned back to his guitar, he decided not to reply as a man with a black coat with an upturned collar sat down next to him with a pad and pen, not asking any permission. Tyler said nothing, though. He was content to just watch as the first of his competition took the stage. The bat sat behind the white drums to left-back part of the stage, taking a headset to the speakers with him. This amused Tyler to no end, this fool planned on trying to sing while drumming? There are and were very few people who had ever or will ever get away with that.

He wasn’t disappointed… well, he was. The point is Tyler wasn’t wrong, as the bat did a very rough cover of Green Day’s American Idiot. Not surprised, he just snickered, “Disappointing.”

Sure he was just talking to himself, Tyler jumped when the person to his left spoke, not looking up from his pad as he crossed something out, taking a note beside the crossed-out words. “Exactly, I certainly hope this isn’t going to be the standard tonight, or else I may have to let A Night in Paradise sink.”

That was more than enough information for the otter to turn to get a look, finally noticing that the man was a small effeminate fox, whose fur, once either a fiery red or woody brown, was now the most startling fuchsia you could imagine. “So, that’s what that girl meant by, ‘seeing as you both seem to have had a bad experience with fur dye’.”
With that, the fox looked up, looking slightly offended, about to blow up before he saw the otter’s sky-blue fur clearly. “It seems we have. Mine, however, was intentional.” He reached out a hand, clearly amused, “Sett Corover.”

Taking it as simple business chatter, the otter shook the hand gently, “Tyler Scott. I’m here to tryout. Sorry, I wasn’t able to find you earlier, Mr. Corover.”

The fox looked offended again, shaking his head, “I hate formalities, just call me Sett.” He smiled, writing down Tyler’s name quickly. He was tempted to start flirting, but had a job to do to his disdain. So, he merely turned back to the stage, and gestured for the second contestant to move on. “You’ll be number seventeen to tryout, so watch and listen, Tyler.”

Somewhat intrigued by Sett, Tyler just did as ordered, watching as a dingo, bearing a shirt colored like Spain’s flag, and black plans took place behind the drums. Normally, Tyler disliked the drums because without the guitar, they didn’t seem to make a song. However, this guy, who, as he looked over onto Sett’s list to find him named Vincente Rodriguez, was actually creating a well thought-out song. It was startling, to both he and the fox, who now sat dumbstruck. Afterwards, he waved the boy off of the stage, not touching the paper, “Certainly hope you aren’t trying out for drums, Tyler, because that’s going to be tough to beat.”

Nervously, the otter chuckled. If the rest were that good… then he was in some deep shit. However, as the next guy went up, bringing nothing with him and singing an a capella version of Make Damn Sure by Taking Back Sunday, and brought the stage burning down in a terrible performance, he breathed in a sigh of relief.

So, scooting back to watch the rest with his hands, fingers tangled, in his lap, he watched performer after performer. Most of them were pitiful to the highest possible degree. Breathing in deep, he evaluated them, judging the singers on pitch and speed, the guitarists on tune and beat, he could not however, judge the drums, as percussion had never been interesting to him, and he neglected to learn it. Nevertheless, even he knew that the dingo from spot two had wiped them all away from the get-go. He almost had to feel bad for them, but instead, he just chuckled as he ran a paw through his head-fur, his long fringe bangs falling back to hide his right eye once again.

Finally, though, he had to sit up as the fox called for number sixteen. Now was the time to gather his thoughts. Unfortunately for him though, his shell instantly shattered as number sixteen took the stage. It was that red panda, his silver eyes billowing like rippled pools. Guitar perched in his right hand; the panda adjusted the headset to his ear. Pausing, he seemed to take just a moment to pray, meditate, or whatever in hell’s name the guy did. In an immediate act of recuperation, he looked up with an animosity in his eyes. That look, in normal eyes, that look was nothing short of stand-still frightening. However, this person, they gave him a… Tyler couldn’t believe what he was thinking. They made him look sexy! That realization was shaky in the otter’s mind. Never before, in all his near eighteen years, or at least those that he could remember, had he seen an interest in anyone, male or female. It was frightening, but at the same time, it lifted an unseen weight from his chest, even if just slightly.

His midnight-shaded eyes were shaky and wide in awe as they slowly, nervously, drifted over to Sett’s list once again. Dante Yvovitch. That was the panda’s name. Tyler definitely knew that name, but from where was lost in a black fog inside of his mind. Desperate to find information to hush this striking lust in his heart, he pushed harder against that fog than he ever had. Consequently, as a soft, elegant tone broke his concentration, he felt himself be momentarily crippled by a white-hot pain.

That pain, however, was nowhere near enough to block out the tones emitting from the guitar. They were soulful, filled with light but solid meaning. Rhapsody, was what could best describe them as Tyler, once again, found a wall-like familiarity in them. Solidly blocking him, but nevertheless seducing him, they drew out only the faintest memory. It was blurry, so he closed his eyes, letting the music fill him to the brim. The boy on the stage was smaller, younger in it. He was wearing baggy black shorts and a black tank-top. He held that same guitar; white face, black rose designs, whose thorny vines crept up the instrument’s neck. There were a lot of people, most looked like kids. The forms were so blurry though, that he couldn’t see where he was. It appeared to be a large group of kids. The few adults, Tyler noticed, all looked like they were wearing some kind of uniform. Was it a school? No, as he saw the woods and the night sky through a large, open, garage-style sliding door. It had to be a camp. It had to be.

Gasping loudly, he came back to reality, his face buried in his hands, sweat dripping off him intensely. The otter felt a hand on his back as the music continued to play, and he raised his head slowly, to see Sett giving him a concerned grin. “You alright?” The fox’s eyes were genuine, and he smiled at that small act of light that he was not accustomed to.

“Yeah,” he took merely a split second to develop an effective lie, as he realized how wet his face was due to the sweat, “The song is just moving.” Once again, he looked up into the panda’s eyes, not caring to look away when Dante looked up. Tyler knew him; he had to initiate some kind of connection. Those slivers of gray widened momentarily. Definitely, Dante definitely recognized him. He, however, instantly cooled down, as he eased the last, honey-dipped chords out his guitar.

Tyler felt sad to hear the tune go. It was so… amazing to have something that latched onto his memories! However, he knew all-too-well that time waits for no man, as he stood. Taking a final look at the panda, who turned to him, smiling gently, the otter carried his guitar down the center, sapphire-colored rug. He tried to keep is mind focused, narrowed, but he felt an open wound in his gut as Dante passed, patting his hip and winking. Yeah… either the guy was brave as hell knows what, or they were at one time connected.

His legs took him reluctantly to the amp front-center stage; as he kneeled down to remove his guitar before hooking it up. He looked it over, caressing it firmly. He loved that instrument, as it had been the first one he had ever gotten after his accident. Black face, fading into a central electric blue, with white skulls on its left side and an extremely complimenting black neck, it was his dream.

He took a breath, feeling it freeze slightly in his throat, and strummed the first chord slowly. Again, again, again, until, finally, he added the vocals. The otter was frightened as hell at doing it mind you, but nevertheless took the initiative, knowing that he couldn’t Dante’s guitar skills. His last chance was vocals.

“So here I am,
Please take my hand!
Why do you walk away?”

Tyler fought back memories of the last few years as he sang. He knew it would hurt, but had insisted on writing a song with his father in mind. He was just emotional that way, he supposed. So, ignoring the scars on his back that were by then searing with a white-hot flame, he pushed on.

“Used to, you would take me by the hand,
And show me a world that could understand.
Then, as the same hand that fed me,
Beat me back into the ground, you cried.
‘Where is the son that I once had?
Where are the lights and the stars?’”

Slowly, he edged the slow, sentimental song into a faster, but still solemn melody. It was short, but the instrumental break proved to properly mask the chorus, which he feared more than anything.

“Why do you scar me?
Why do you hate me?
Why do you want to make me, break me?
I thought you were my Guardian Angel.”

He had his eyes closed the entire time, trying to keep himself gathered. However, the otter took a moment to open them, to see Dante sitting, staring at him with frightening interest. The smile on the panda’s face, however, tantalized Tyler, causing him to not even notice as the song droned on, the lyrics leaving his mouth with a new, fresh feeling. It was like beautiful renewal, as he sang and just kept on singing, lost in Dante’s eyes. He was relieved to feel that the feelings he was harboring was not crush-like attraction. They felt more like the lust for the company for a long-lost friend. There was something there, and he wanted it.

So badly, in fact, that Tyler hadn’t even realized he was done until the last long bass note of the song descended into memory. So, as his cheeks turned purple after realizing he was just standing there like an idiot, he locked up his electric, and fled the stage. The otter was thankful that all eyes were averted from him though, as Sett stood and called everyone’s attention. Being careful to edge around Dante’s table, he sat down at the bar, fighting with the urge to pull out his fake I.D. and order a drink. Vodka sounded rather nice, after all.

“Alright, everyone,” the fox’s voice cried out with a very shallow sense of excitement, “Stick around and I’ll have my choices gathered in just a minute.” Amused, knowing who Sett would probably choose without debate. That dingo drummer, Dante on guitars, and contestant eleven, he couldn’t remember clearly, but he thought his name was Randal, would be on vocals. One look told Tyler that the rabbit was a flamer with a nose so high up in the air that he’d probably drown if it rained. However, Randal had performed a perfect a capella of Linkin Park’s song, Faint. It was sort of depressing for Tyler, knowing that the entire reason for losing to someone that was so… well… flaming, that even Avery would want to knock him down a few notches, was because he had been staring at a guy he didn’t even really know.

“Two waters, please,” Tyler heard a soft, but at the same time, strong voice say, as he turned to see a suit of white and scarlet fur, covered only now by a leather vest that he left open, hiding nothing the otter hadn’t already seen, and those same plaid-patterned pants.

Immediately, Tyler corrected the waiter, “Oh, no, nothing for me thanks.” He turned to the panda, seeing a bit of surprise in those lucid silver pools. “I don’t like other people buying things for me. I can pay on my own.” He was lying. He needed money, seeing as Christmas was on the way and he had to get something not only for Hunter and Avery, but Hunter’s family as well. However, he hated having people take acts of mercy on him.

“Really?” Was all Dante said, giggling. “From what I remember, you never had a problem with it a few years back, Tyler.” Not shy, he wrapped his black-spiraled arms around the otter’s neck. Tyler was unsure how to react, choosing to look away and remain silent. This worked without a hitch, luckily. “You’ve changed,” the panda observed, chuckling, “Do you even remember me, Tyler Scott?”

That was most certainly the worst possible question Tyler could’ve asked. Saying yes would be a lie. However, if he did say yes… he might find out more about his life. Maybe he’d be able to return home. Then, his father would be happy again. Maybe… “’Course I remember you, Dante. I remember that song too.”

The panda chuckled, “Camp Lakeview, 2007 Talent Show. Yep, seems like it was just yesterday you and I were sneaking out of the cabin with Andrew to sneak a drag from one of my dad’s cigarettes I jacked.” A little unnerved by the thought of him smoking, he remained silent, also slightly shaken for an unknown reason by that other name. Andrew. “Like I said,” he continued after a few moments of silence, “You’ve changed. You’re quieter, and,” much to Tyler’s disdain, the boy took a big sniff of his scent, absorbing it, “when did-“

“Okay!” As the waiter slid over Dante’s bottle of water, Sett stood, trying to look as if he had just reached a big exciting decision, but the matted fur on the side of his face made it fairly obvious he had been taking a small nap. “A Night in Paradise’s new drummer will be Vincente Rodriguez. Their guitarist will be Dante Yvovitch!” With that, Dante’s eyes sprang to life, though he remained leaning back, his left elbow holding most of his wait against the bar. Tyler decided to be bold and pat him on he back, happy that Dante barely reacted. “And, their new vocalist will be,” Tyler grimaced as the rabbit stood prematurely. It confused him why everyone was looking not at the rabbit, but at him, with looks of expectancy and jealousy. Even Dante was. “Tyler Scott.”

The otter, who had been leaning back immediately shot up, his ears going up like beacons. Quickly, as everyone put on fake applause, Sett being the only genuinely happy individual there, he asked, “Say wha’? I sucked it up!”

“What?” The panda was giving him a bewildered smirk, “Your song was beautiful! And your voice could melt chocolate.” He arched an eyebrow. “Of course, you were distracted the whole time, eh?” Chuckling nervously, trying to pass it off as a harmless joke, he inwardly worried. The panda however, just jerked his head toward the door as he chugged the entire bottle in one go. “Water just doesn’t fill anything. Come on, there’s a nice coffee shop across the street.” Tyler couldn’t help but find his eyes lower onto the black, white, and gray intersecting lines on Dante’s firm butt as he walked, his hips just ever-so-slightly swaying. So, as the panda turned, his silvery eyes meeting the otter’s midnight blue ones that moved from his backside to his face immediately, but all too noticeably. “Coming?”

He really didn’t want to, he wanted to order a big glass of vodka and get wasted. However, he was intrigued by this weird panda, and followed suit, ignoring the lusty look from Kelly, the horny lupine. However, as his fur met the cold air and his eyes lit up against the street lights, he heard his phone ringing. He just had to giggle as Dante sang along with the Plain White T’s more than slightly off-key.

Quickly, he slung it around his ear, and answered in a tone that was a bit happier than normal he knew. However, he could excuse it, as meeting someone from his old self was quite a boost to what would an otherwise lonely night. “Hey, Ave! What’s up?”

The wolf on the other line sounded slightly bored, “Not much, just bored,” Tyler smirked as he hit the nail right on its humungous head, “thought I’d check up.”

It wasn’t new to Tyler. Hunter or Avery always called if he was alone. He supposed it was because they were worried about some kind of mental relapse. It was a little annoying, but underneath that, it was so kind. “Aw, aren’t we sweet?” It wasn’t until no answer, no… more important, no sound at all came from the other line that he continued, “Why’s it so quiet, man?”

Tyler blushed slightly as Dante came up close, touching their ears together as he listened into the conversation from the opposite side of the otter’s head. “Oh. I’m in the bathroom. Anyways, how’d you do?”

“Is this your boyfriend?’ Dante half-whispered, causing the blue teenfur to giggle. He didn’t even care as he got awkward looks from the straight couples as Dante intertwined their arms and hands.

“You must be dam bored to call from there, eh, bro? I did well though; I’m going to A Night in Paradise’s new vocalist!”

Pulling the phone momentarily out of his ear, the otter heard the wolf white-furred wolf to give him the most girl-like squeal he had ever heard come from his mouth. “Congratulations! No surprise though.” He found that the wolf was so much like a girl, but at the same time, had enough testosterone to always recover from anything.

Once again, as they took their seats at a table in the corner of the shop, Dante whispered another comment before going up to order their respective coffees, “Sounds like you’ve got a fan-girl, Ty.”

The otter just blushed, brushing the remark off like dust. “Thanks! I’m thrilled! Also, I ran into an OLD friend. We’re about to head over to the coffee shop next door to chat, so I’m going to have to cut this talk short, sorry. We can act stupid tomorrow, alright?” He hoped the wolf understood his emphasis on the word ‘old’ correctly. However, as he looked up, he could only giggle as he realized that he hadn’t noticed them slip inside the shop. But, oh well, it was a simple mistake.

The wolf hesitated, and a small nervous silence lingered, “Alright, see you then.”

As Avery clicked off the phone, Tyler was happy to find Dante sitting down next to him, passing him a black coffee. “Sorry, I didn’t know what you like, so I just brought some stuff.” He passed the otter some packets of sugar and cream, which he simply waved off without a second thought, “No thanks, I like it straight black.” Taking a sip, something came to Tyler’s mind, as he put the drink down immediately. “Wait! Did you pay for this?”

Nodding, the panda started up conversation just as the otter reared back to argue. “Anyways, as I was about to ask before we were interrupted,” he waited for the otter to take a sip, just for comedic affect, “When did you become an alpha?”

Luckily, Tyler was able to, by some miracle, bring a napkin to his mouth before spitting out his coffee, startled. He remembered the sniff of his fur that Dante had gotten and groaned. He remembered Avery telling him about tops and bottoms having different scents, hating that he lacked the ability to discern them. It was true though, that he had a bit of a authoritative mind with sex in mind. He would never let someone else have the reins. Something was off about that question, though, “What do you mean, ‘when’?”

“Well,” the panda looked, confused, into his now light-brown coffee. ‘When you were with Andrew, he always seemed to be in control.”

Andrew? Andrew was just some guy from camp from his earlier comment. Wasn’t he? “Andrew and I were in a relationship?” Unfortunately, he hadn’t realized how stupid the question was until it was too late.

Anxiously, the panda looked up, “What do you mean, you guys were inseparable! Not to mention how many times you two got in trouble for P.D.A.” Ignoring the fact that that last comment had attracted the attentions of many hereto-eavesdroppers around them, Dante arched a brow.

“Oh, uh,” Tyler needed a ploy, bad, but didn’t have one, “Well, uh-” Once again, he was cut off by his phone going off. Except, this time, as he heard Marilyn Manson’s Fight Song, he identified it as Hunter before he wrung it around his ear, “What’s up, big lion?” He was so relived that Hunter had interrupted him.

“Tyler! Where are you? I’m outside of The Blue Crag!” the lion sounded frantic for some reason.

“Whoa,” the otter replied, “Slow down, Hunter. I’m across the street at that coffee place; I’ll be over there in a sec. What’re you so uptight about, anyways?”

The lion seemed to disappear off the line momentarily as someone in the background groaned. What? Had he called Tyler while he was fucking Cecile? Instantly, though, he returned, “Avery’s had an attack.”

Instantly, Tyler went into overdrive as he hung up the phone, scrawling his cell phone number in a napkin and handing it to the panda. Strangely, in his panic he finally noticed that the panda was older than he: About nineteen, maybe twenty, to his seventeen. “Here, take this, you keep it, but give it to Sett, please, I forgot to.” He began to rush out, not caring for an answer, however, as an arm caught his and he slung around to have a pair of lips meet his, causing a hollow silence to fall over the shop.

“Fine, but I better see you again.”

Tyler, not really caring as he flew out the shop, ignoring the shouts of, “Faggot!” and “Damn tail-chaser!”, finally caught onto the fact that he had just had his first kiss with a perfect stranger. Or at least, a stranger to the now him. No tongue though, so he didn’t really care, as he entered the small crimson car. Sitting down, his guitar in the floor board, he turned around to the back seat, seeing Avery now sleeping perfectly fine, but covered in sweat. “Holy hell, what happened?” He asked, as the lion began toward the otter’s home, in a slightly over-the-top speed. “And are you not taking him to a hospital?”

“First”, the lion said, flicking his brown mane’s bangs out from his face, “I’m not entirely sure what happened.” He flung around onto Tyler’s street, tires screeching. He was going way too damn fast if they were already there. “Second, you know it would just stress him out even more if he wakes up in a hospital. I’ll just call Dr. Reynolds to the house.”

He came to an abrupt stop that didn’t even phase the otter, who just leaned back and kissed the unconscious wolf’s forehead, eliciting a strange questioning face from Hunter. However, as Tyler quickly got out, he sped off, leaving his brother to just sit in the darkness, watching his tail lights fade away.

Tyler had no dream of losing everything he had on him though, as he sprinted up to his nice, but rather small home. Walking in, he saw the large abstract art-mimicking clock reading twelve ‘o seventeen, causing him to cuss quietly. He prayed his father wasn’t awake, as he attempted to go up the stairs directly ahead of the door.

Unfortunately, a rough, slurred voice stopped him at the first step. “Where’re you headed to, boy?” Turning, the otter found himself instantly pinned down by a large, burly brown otter. Immediately, he smelled the alcohol on his breath. “So, any idea where my son is, tonight?” Noting the doubled-up, metal-studded belt in his father’s hand, he gulped. That night had just gone from great, to anxious, to terrible, all in under thirty minutes.

[SleepingPup567]

Wow, very few views. -_-' Well, if anyone is reading, here's chapter 3. It's narrated by Cross the morning after the party.

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Chapter 3: Keep Moving
December 18, 2010

A tall, medium-build border collie ran across the yard, his arms raised. He was about sixteen or seventeen, and his black and white fur seemed to form crescent moons on the tops of his ears. Behind him, many people, from early teens to young adults chased. As he caught the football that soared over many of their heads, he reached a makeshift field goal, arousing playful jeers from the opposing team mixed with jubilant cheers from his own. The yard, long and wide, was surrounded by simple wooden fencing, accompanying a warm, light-green house with black trim and roof. Up on the wooden deck leading to the yard, were many parents of different species, watching the kids with interest, rooting on their own respective children when need be.

As the kids reformed to get ready for the final play, the young collie turned to an even younger one, about thirteen or fourteen, who was huddled with his knees against his chest against a large oak tree. The smaller dog, holding a sketch pad and pencil, looked up as he felt his older brother’s gaze turn to him. “Hey,” the older asked, smiling at the star-like patch of white around the younger one’s eye, “Cross, you sure you don’t want to join in for this last play?”

Cross ignored as his father stared at him disapprovingly. He knew his father hated his preference for art, but he really couldn’t care much less. So, he just smiled gently at his brother, only momentarily glancing at a cute lynx boy named Chris Farlow that was in his class. The boy was much younger than Moses, but Cross knew that his brother had sort of adopted the lynx as a kind of ‘second’ younger brother. “No thanks, Moses.”

Moses just smiled, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand, the other on his hip. Grimacing, the younger collie realized that their parents would probably yell at the other having stood in such a feminine manner later. “Alright, suit yourself, but I want to see that drawing later, alright?” Turning away, the collie took his position, facing a cute, although tomboyish tigress.

He was unhappy with that turn of events. That girl, Julia, had been after him for hell only knew how long. It most certainly didn’t help him that she had a half-shirt on, trying to attract Moses’ attention. It didn’t matter though, he knew, as he looked the other guys, all of whom were shirtless just as he was.

“Hey, birthday boy.” Julia started with the nonchalant conversation, flirty and not caring to hide it. She was about to continue too, but was cut off as the collie bolted around her, tackling a smaller panther as gently as possible. Needless to say, as Cross watched, carefully, taking note of every detail of the final touchdown, his drawing came through flawlessly, engulfed in cheers that were not really for his work at all.

So, knowing what to do, the younger collie stood up, and, after patting some dirt off of his khaki cargo-pants, walked toward the patio. However, as he approached the field, he was met by his brother’s paw on his chest. So, looking up at the older collie, he smiled, ignoring the bulge in the gray, adorned with green stains, jeans that caught his wandering aqua eyes. “So, how’d that sketch come out?”

Cross held up the sketch pad, which his brother took carefully and looked over. Sure enough, his younger brother had done a near-perfect job. He had captured the final touchdown in such detail, shading and all. He could make out every individual person, including himself, his best friend, the panther named Leonhard, and his favorite little lynx Chris. “I’m not too sure about the shading,” Cross began, “but over all-”

Moses held up a paw to his brother’s mouth, “It’s amazing. I’m proud of you, Cross.” He smiled down at the dog, arousing a faint blush from the boy.
The younger dog nearly replied, but was cut off by a deep voice. “Come on you two. It’s time to blow out Moses’ candles!” Both turned to see their father, Noah, waving them toward a table on the deck. They were surrounded by all of the parents and the kids that were there, and on the table were Moses’ cake and numerous presents.

The older collie just sighed, “C’mon you two, aren’t I little old for the whole ‘blowing out the candles’ thing?” He was wearing a look of playful annoyance, though he was being partially serious.

“Oh come now, it’s a tradition,” their mother, Gracie, said. This disheveled both Cross’s and Moses’ nerves. Cross knew all too well that Moses and their parents had been fighting nightly after he had come out to family exclusively about being gay. It was always “sin” this, and “military school” that. Moses, turning seventeen on that day, had been prepared from the moment he admitted to himself that he was what he was, and was unafraid of hollow threats made by his parents.

Boldly, they both shed off that fear and walked onto the deck. Moses took the seat that was directly in front of his cake. Noah sat to his right, Gracie to his left, and Cross across from him. It made him smile to see his parents looking at him with loving eyes for once in far too long, rather than glares full of prejudice.

Cross, always happy for his brother, led the singing of “Happy Birthday” for him. And, as his brother moved in to blow out the candles, he blinked, smiling and cheering with the others. However, when he opened them again, he honestly wished he hadn’t.

First thing that he noticed was the heavy sweat that weighed down his fur, and how his body had become so much taller. Not only that, but his body was no longer that of a low-lying artist. Rather, he had developed muscles everywhere. He bore washboard abs and tight a tightened torso, with large biceps and triceps paired with muscled legs.

No one was there on the deck. Cross was all alone, and panting heavily. What’s more, as he looked around, he noted that the world no longer had color. It was black and white, and not your common, shaded black, white, and gray tones. Solid groups of the colors, in sort of a western comic style, with black, white, and nothing in between.

“Brother?” The collie asked, quietly, feeling his chest grow cold with fear.
No answer came though. He was still adrift in a black and white world. Empty and alone. He felt like everything around him was dead, too, as he heard nothing but his own beating heart. No cloud in the empty, sun-less sky above, no children laughing and playing in the yards beyond. However, as Cross’s eyes glanced around the soulless yard, he saw something. Color. Red. It was like a small stream of crimson drifting from the side of the house. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to see what he knew all too well was there. However, he had no control of his legs as he ran, in excruciatingly slow motion. No matter how many times he had seen it… no matter how detailed his memory was of that moment in the past, as he rounded the corner, his heart would always stop and throb with inhumane pain.
Moses was there, right in front of him. He was wearing a green collared shirt with khaki shorts. Of course, they were just white to him, then and there, but he could very well remember. In front of his brother was Chris, holding his hand and screaming something indefinitely. If memory served him, Cross believed it was, “No, no! Moses, don’t leave him! He’s your brother, don’t leave him! Don’t leave me!”

Cross then saw it, forced to face reality, as the large hunting knife in his brother’s heart pumped plenty of fresh red blood out into the open. The younger brother saw the older collie’s colorless eyes turn to him, and whisper something, once again inaudible, “Cross, trust Chris. Don’t follow my example.” The dog chuckled at that last part, a small stream of blood rolling off his lips.

Cross yelled out his brother’s name as he ran toward him, and reached out a hand. His fingers were so close to Moses’ cheeks, so close to that warmth that he craved, when he woke up.

Arms flailing outward he sat up, reaching for the brother that wasn’t there. Instead, his hand found cold, empty air, while his eyes found a hollow, empty, white room. He had to stare for a moment though, to realize that emptiness, as the damp warmth of the sweat engulfing him made him feel smothered beneath the thin white sheet, even though the room felt like it should have a layer of ice inside of it. It was so bare and unwelcoming, with a small white door that barely allowed the large collie in and out of it, a small bed with a ridiculously thin white sheet for such a cold house, and another, once again small closet. It barely held anything though, so it was no surprise that he had clothes strewn across the room, including his letterman jacket that then laid at the foot of his bed, flung there when he sprung awake. It had been what primarily kept him warm the night before.

However, he was in no way noting the cold as he turned off the side of his bed, completely nude, as he honestly hated the feeling of wearing clothes while he slept. Rather, his thoughts were on those memories. He remembered the day of his brother’s seventeenth birthday, March 16, 2005. Not long after that seemingly simple party, their parents began sending Moses to a psychiatrist. Soon… Moses lost himself. He gave up football, lost many of his friends, and rarely talked to the others. He began to leave for days at a time to hell-only-knows where. However, as he returned with the smell of marijuana drifting off of every pore of his body, it was obvious to them all that wherever he had been going, it was nowhere good. Cross somehow felt that he had the responsibility to make his brother happy, and reluctantly began working out ridiculously, and tried out for the football team in his freshman year of high-school. He made it too. So, when he found out, he went running home as fast as he could, leaping through yards and over fences. He had no idea that as he leapt over his fence, and ran toward the back door, that he would get his first breath of fresh, blood-marred air. He had no idea, as he rounded to the side of the house, the faint sound of an ambulance blaring in the distance, that he would find Chris holding his brother’s hand, as Moses faded into the void of death with his own knife crammed into his chest.

The canine gulped down the harsh urge to vomit, gripping his left leg with his matching hand hard, while his other hand fell over his mouth. Ever since that day he had feared blood more than anything. It sucked for him that he was on the football team, where people got hurt more than often.

Glaring at his alarm clock, he found that it was 6:13 AM. That annoyed Cross to no end. He had just lost seventeen could-have-been minutes of sleep. Nevertheless, after having that dream, sleep was a pipe dream. So, gripping his knees with unsteady hands, he pushed himself, blushing as he finally felt the cold air of his house brush against his white-furred sheath. “Why’s it a’ways so g’damn cold in h’r?” His speech was slurred horribly. That was normal for morning. However, the pounding thuds in his head suggested that all the beer last night had affected him far more thoroughly than insomnia. Just the thought of the guys choosing to have a party like that on a Sunday night made him feel like punching someone through a wall, though he would never do such a thing.

Reluctantly, grimacing with each stretch of his muscles, he walked over to his closet… well, the corner of his room, picking up a pair of white, sky, and navy blue plaid shorts, along with a matching short-sleeved polo, and a pair of sapphire boxers. Cross turned to stare at the door, giving it his best ‘I’ll send you to hell’ glare. As it decided not to widen as per the request of his threat, he walked through, turning sideways. He honestly didn’t get why all of the doors in his house were normal except for that one. Perhaps it was just that his parents had never predicted him growing that big. However, seeing as his brother’s old room was free, but untouched, he assumed his parents just didn’t care. After all, ‘fags don’t have rights until they cure themselves’, or so they had said. It was bullshit tough, so he just ignored it.

After the tight squeeze, he rounded the corner to travel through the white hall and into the bathroom. A shower sounded like heaven literally, the collie realized as he turned the knob for the hot water. He liked it steaming hot, for reasons unbeknownst to him. Moses had always said it was because Cross had a fiery spirit. Whatever that meant… He had no time to dwell though, as he pulled out a crimson towel, whose color made him gag momentarily, and walked into the shower after laying it on the counter.

The searing, fire-like water felt so good. He loved that shower in general really. It was one of those ones with the rectangular prism shape surrounded by translucent glass. It was just big enough for him to lean against the glass, and sit down, his legs arched in front of him as the hot stream ran through his head fur as his now clumped bangs fell in front of his face.

As he sat, basking in the heat thankfully, his mind rewound that dream time and time again. It was his worst nightmare, only because it was more than just a nightmare. It was a memory that seemed to follow him relentlessly. Every time he changed in the locker room, his eyes involuntarily wandering over the other guys’ bodies, it was there. Each time he met up with Chris, whether it is for an after-game party, or a simple trip to the mall for whatever reason, it was there. It’s not like Cross didn’t like those things, he loved going places with Chris, who over the years had become his best friend, and ex-boyfriend, which thankfully hadn’t changed their friendship any, and parties were his favorite pastime whenever he didn’t have a bunch of women trying to hang themselves all over him. He just simply couldn’t let go of the fact that his brother was dead. That fact only being true because their parents’ prejudice towards homosexuality drove Moses to end his life was his driving force. At the same time though, he kept himself hidden from the public.

What’s more, is that every blessed time he wrote his name, Cross Abraham Newman, that damn book came to mind. Once upon a time, after all, he had been such a devout Christian, and had damned homosexuality to hell, just as Leviticus demanded. However, after his brother had come out to them, he completely evaluated his shallow, fear-based beliefs. First off, he felt stupid for putting so much faith in the old testament of the Torah, rather than the new testament’s teaching of Jesus. That was just for a little bit though, as he eventually realized how childish the entire religion was. It was basically just a child’s game of ‘do what I say or you can’t play’, which drove him to develop a much broader belief. He had no religion after that. “Whatever happens, happens,” he told himself often, “And if the god or gods have a problem with it, they’re childish tyrants.”

It felt good to think like that, too. Seeing as he could finally open himself up to a world to which he had before been so reclusive, bound to live life to its fullest once he left his family’s claws. However, he saw how rough that reality would be every time he saw Avery. No matter how strong he was, as the wolf fought through hatred and illness, pain always seemed to catch up to the guy.

Cross’s mind flew back to the night before as lathered up his head-fur, letting foamy water stream down the rest of his body. It had pretty much started with Allen making a rather vulgar joke about Avery, which got Hunter all riled up. From there, things just escalated into a full-blown battle of yes and no. And, in the end, he was the trump card that put the whole thing to an end. Even so, as he thought back, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Hunter defending Avery so selflessly. The second that Avery came out in school, Cross worried about him. “Such useless worry,” the collie mumbled to himself as he lathered up the rest of his fur, all the way down to his toes.

Quietly, he washed himself, his mind clear and happy. Just soaking in the water and the sounds of a small suburban neighborhood waking to a new day as children laughing and cars gently revving to life could just barely be heard over the rushing water.

However, as his hands began to wash his nether-regions, something else woke up. Cross didn’t really notice it at first. As time went slowly though, he eventually felt the pulse of his member, drawing him to look down, only to see his bright red, seven and three-fourths inch member out from its sheath and gathering an annoying pressure. It made the collie sigh. He really hated when that happened. After all, sex wasn’t his thing. He was more of a snuggle-and-light-kisses type.

Raging hormones, however, don’t simply bend to one’s will. He knew that all too well, and reluctantly wrapped a white-furred paw around his rock hard cock. Cross tried to think of something that would bring to a quick climax, but failed ultimately. Having zero experience at sex, and not being the type of person to look at porn, he had very little than what sex between to men was to work with. Also, true an artist he was, but made up people, no matter how detailed he chiseled out their bodies, were just not very enticing. So, he instantly envisioned Avery. Avery wasn’t exactly his type in personality, as he was too shy for Cross’s tastes, but he did have a very attractive body.

Slowly, the collie’s hand began to pump up and down as he saw the wolf on his back on a bench in the locker room, looking up innocently. Cross loomed over him, fondling the smaller male’s balls gently, causing a gentle moan to overflow from Avery’s maw. The larger dog just smiled down, continuing as he watched the wolf’s own red penis emerge carefully, up to an imagined six and a half inch length. Just the thought of Avery’s cock, slowly engorging with a sumptuous knot, made Cross moan as his hand began to pick up pace.

“C- Cross, please,” the wolf moaned again, this time with such sweet, hone-dipped intent, “take me.” It was a declaration, not a request.

Cross lifted up the wolf’s legs onto his shoulders and placed his tip at Avery’s pucker, giving the smaller canine’s sensitive member a gentle stroke, arousing a small bead of precum to rise out. He smiled as he wiped the bead off of the cock, right off the top, causing Avery to moan as he brought the secretion to his tongue. He had tasted his own cum before, and had a general idea about how it would taste, though Chris had often told him that the taste of one’s own, and someone else’s, is far different. “If that’s what you want.” He growled, both in his imagination, and in actuality. At that point, after all, he didn’t really care what anyone out in the hall heard.

He had had a talk with Avery once before, a talk that got a little personal after the collie had asked the younger canine about his past experiences. It had ended awkwardly after the wolf, in a nostalgic haze, explained how his first love had taken him roughly, and he masochistically loved every second.

In response, the collie thrust into the wolf hard, all the way up until his now completely formed knot, causing a small but blissful yelp to bellow from Avery. Giving the smaller canine no time to recoup, Cross began to piston in and out of Avery’s tail-hole roughly, relishing every second. He just kept going and going, delighted with every moan and groan that came out of the smaller canine, before finally biting down gently on his neck. That seemed to do the trick, too, as he felt the wolf’s seed shoot his upper chest and chin. Just that feel made the collie blow hit top, as he lodged his knot inside Avery, letting his seed fill him up.

Or, as reality stated, it flew out of his cock as his hand continued to pump, causing the white, slick cum to flow onto his hand and onto the shower floor.

He took a minute after that, staring at his own cum as it faded from between his feet, down the drain with the same cum that washed off of his hands. Even after, as it was all cleaned away, he couldn’t smile, he just stood and turned off the shower, as the water had long since become lukewarm. Pretty much disgusted with himself, he walked out and dried off with his crimson towel. He couldn’t believe that he had allowed himself to fantasize about Avery…

Eventually, he just sort of froze as he stared at himself in the mirror, fur going everywhere. He looked really sad, depressed even. Finally, he let go, and laughed out loud. He knew that he took things far too seriously, and, at the end of the day, looking back; things were a lot better than they seemed. As he gazed into the glass, he saw that smile on his face, and couldn’t have felt better. “Today,” he said quietly, “is going to be a good day.”

Cross ran a comb through his hair, smoothing it down so that a lone tip, going from right to left, against his natural part, touched his eye, before messing it up in the back. He had long since liked that look. Then, while brushing his teeth with his right hand, he put on his clothes with his left, smiling at how thee colors went with his fur and eyes. He didn’t flaunt it like a lot of guys, but in the end, he knew he was attractive.

After doing a final inspection, making sure that his teeth were nice and bright, clothes were straightened up, and his hair was in place, he walked out of the bathroom. Same routine as always, he knew, as he grabbed his wallet, backpack, and his capsule of breath mints off of the table in the light green hallway, and headed down the stairs, loudly at first, and then quieting his steps when he heard light talk in the kitchen. It was always a morning mission of his to evade his parents in the morning, knowing their only goal was to drag him into a frustrating conversation.

However, as he approached the door, hand touching the copper handle, he was reminded that he never just got away. “Off to school, Abraham?” His father’s voice was cold as always, as the smaller, more slender collie leaned against the entrance to the kitchen, his face showing irritation.

Cross took a deep breath, before turning with a slight smirk to his father, “Why, yes I am.” Placing his back against the door, his legs crossed, right hand on his backpack’s strap, and left in his pocket.

“Checking out any girls in school?” the older collie was always quick to the shot, and deadly at that.

It was an unnerving ability, but one he had passed on to both of his children. “No, not really,” Cross responded, still smiling brightly, “I don’t need any distractions, after all.”

Noah had an acid tongue as the next words slithered out like living darkness, “Your brother always said the same thing.” His eyes narrowed to a glare as his son’s eyes widened momentarily in shock, ignoring the gasp that came from his wife in the kitchen behind him.

Straightening himself back up, Cross replied simply, “He and I are alike in many ways. Many.”

Turning away from his son, the older collie just sighed, “So, you’re going to take the cowards’ way out?” Not faltering, Noah just walked into the kitchen, taking a seat facing away from Cross.

The younger dog just turned to the small table next to the door, looking at a picture of him and his brother. He was hanging around Moses’ neck, laughing with him in the backyard. “Well, Moses,” he kissed the glass gently, smiling, “Off to school, brother.” Finally, he opened the door to the outside, feeling a cool winter breeze hit him, as he walked out, closing the white door behind him carefully.

What his father had said was cold and rigid, like the bleakest blizzard. But they were not words Cross hadn’t heard before, so he just sucked it up, along with his first unrestricted breath of the day. Dawn and its rosy fingertips streaked the still night-tinted sky, as the young collie took a long stretch, relishing the feeling it brought. His blue eyes traced the neighborhood. It was your normal “everyone’s fantasy” suburb. Every other house was relatively identical, excluding the different personal color choices of the residents. Mostly, it held families, as Cross often played around with some neighborhood kids who loved getting piggy-back rides from the tall dog, as well as your occasional old couple, who Cross, being a quiet soul, often had brief no-meaning conversations with. He loved it. It was a nice place, even if his particular home wasn’t.

His revelry, which was rare to find to begin with, was shortly interrupted as a familiar car horn caught his attention, as a dark-gold 1966 Ford Mustang Coupe pulled to a rough stop outside of his house. He knew the car well, far too well, as he bounded for it.

Coming to the end of the small stone path to his porch, he opened the door and hopped in, slinging his backpack at the lynx at the wheel, with a resounding, “Good morning, kitten!”

“The hell?” Chris exclaimed, catching the backpack off of what was now instinct. Had it been a few years prior, he would have had his head slammed against the window. Thankfully for his health, he had long since learned how to play Cross’s rather rough games. “Someone’s awfully cheery today.”

That was when Cross noticed that the lynx’s hair was rather strewn and uncombed, his lettermen’s jacket wrinkly with the rest of his clothes, being just denim shorts, a red, blank t-shirt, and his favorite pair of sandals. “Had a rough night’s sleep? You and I finished cleaning at five! Two hours should’ve been enough!” The dog gave Chris a rather skeptical look. After all, he had walked home, so Chris should have gotten some sleep. But, from the looks of him- Cross had to guess he had one final ‘guest’ over. “Alright, who?”

“Dan Marksyr,” the lynx replied. He was bi, proud, and unafraid of sharing his love life with his friend. “I hadn’t noticed him asleep in one of the private rooms, but he woke up when you left.”

The collie looked the cat up and down before asking, “So, who in the hell is Dan Marksyr? No one I’ve ever heard of!”

The cat, as he reluctantly turned back into the road, lazily drifting around slow-morning drivers, shrugged. “Some guy that got in last night. He had a huge dick- nice bulge –so I’m sure I let him in at some point. He’s probably just some horny mutt from another school.” He thought back, relishing the images still fresh in his mind of pounding the bear’s ass. “He’s quite a little cum-slut. I enjoyed it. Sucks for him I wouldn’t let him have any without a condom.” Chris swerved into another lane, ignoring the cursing from other drivers as he did so.

“You haven’t had your morning coffee, have you?” the collie asked bluntly, but giggling.

The cat, pulling out some sunglasses he had hidden somewhere, as the sun finally perked it’s head over the horizon, asked, “So, you had the dream last night, right?” He had long since realized that, against common logic, and only in an attempt to not bring down those around him, it was on days that Cross was his happiest, that he had had the dream.

Cross’s expression going from amused to petrified in moments was an understatement. His lips were absolutely fixed in a reverse Cheshire-cat manner. He knew though, that Chris was not trying to hurt him. “Y- yeah,” he stammered his response, turning his gaze to his fumbling hands he now held in his lap. Instantly though, he returned his gaze upwards, looking optimistic, “But, Moses wouldn’t want me moping all day!”

Chris, as he drive over a bridge that reached across the river that separated Cross’ section of suburbia from all the others, smiled brightly as he turned his gaze to the dog momentarily. After Moses’ suicide, Chris had taken it hard, and drove himself to complete isolation for days. Eventually though, the promise that he made to Moses forced him to go look up on Cross, who was in far worse shape than he was. The lynx had received quite the shock to go to the Newman household to find out that Cross was missing. Following his intuition, though, he found the big collie at his older brother’s old favorite stomping ground, a small clearing next to the woods at the outskirts of the river. Cross had looked poorly groomed, even a little rabid, with obvious signs of insomnia, dehydration, and short-term anorexia. That was a long day, as the lynx sat, holding the poor dog’s head in his lap, and just telling nostalgic stories of Moses. Chris wasn’t sure how, but that day had stuck them together like glue.

Now though, Cross was strong, and so was he. So, with that behind them, they talked about random details any two high school boys would, sex, gossip, because anyone who says women are the only ones who do it are liars, and other such worriless things. The two just kept going, fitting together like matching puzzle pieces, though they most certainly only matched on the friend level. Both of them hated it too, because they admittedly thought the other was attractive. Cross was too innocent for Chris however, just as he was too big of a man-slut for Cross’s tastes.

_______________________________

“So, want to go out for that new movie this Friday? My parents will be leaving for the weekend, so maybe we can… enjoy some private time.” The girl, a young, bodacious cheetah named heather asked. Everyone at the lunch table, the majority of who were wearing sports jackets and other such things, their arms around their respective girlfriend, watched with smirks on their face.

Cross grimaced as all eyes turned so simultaneously. “Whatever happened to the good ol’ days, when they pulled you off to the side before being blunt?” he wondered. He hated having girl clamoring after him, especially the repeat offenders like her, who would always just run to some other available guy. “No thanks, I’m not interested.” His face was straight and uncaring. Used to, he would have been gentler and done his best to give her some kind of consolation. Now, though, he really couldn’t care less, as the game had grown ancient and boring.

Heather pouted, and ran off with her best fake sobs as a few cheerleaders rose up to follow her, throwing the collie curses and obscene gestures as they did. Merely chucking, the dog scooted back against the wall, his head looking upward.

The room was huge, but so was his school. All of the lunches were divided up by grade levels. So, as there were about four hundred students per grade, it had to be big. In fact, there was even a second one on the other side of the school. Around the walls were gold and purple designs, with a golden circle around a purple crescent moon cut in two by an elongated triangle. It was the school’s symbol. Once, in the past, schools had their founder’s species as a symbol, but that became a racial issue for far too many reasons. Students sat with their own cliques, niches, etcetera, as in any school.

“What the fuck?” asked the annoying pug from the night before, Allen. “Why’d you say no, bitch? I would fuck her until she passed out!”

Cross felt everyone’s eyes on him again. Allen had always been the first to assume that saying no to a girl made you gay, because he was to annoying and horny to take any chances of turning a girl down. The dog had multiple options: Say that he was gay, which was out of the question. Leave, which would just look bad. Make up some random excuse that would be lame and unbelievable. Start a rumor. Or, insult the pug, get a laugh out of everyone, and walk away free.

“Just ‘cause your stubby penis makes it hard to get any, doesn’t mean I have to settle,” Cross chose the high road. Allen’s jaw dropped as everyone roared with laughter that the collie found obnoxious and annoying. All except Ryan Love, who sat at the end of the table, staring off into the distance. The raccoon had always been an off one.

He saw a large group of girls gathered around a table. Finding the gasps of impressions a little odd from such a various group, he stood, grabbing his trash, and used throwing it away as an excuse to get closer. He saw it then, a familiar blue-furred otter sat with an acoustic guitar, playing a quick tune with a matching tune. Tyler had long since been recognized as one of the school’s star musicians, though his voice captivated more than his instruments. Knowing all too well that women were suckers for a guitar player and singer, Cross felt a little sorry for the otter. Ever since Tyler’s incident four years back, the poor guy had been obviously confused about his sexuality. However, anyone you asked would’ve automatically said he was gay or bi. Cross would even say that too, as he had long since compared the way his classmate behaved around women, and then with men.

The collie grimaced as the song ended, and a familiar white wolf popped up, hugging Tyler around the neck. Instantly, Cross felt guilty as he remembered that morning. Seeing Avery okay though, was good.

So, he approached, giving his own applause with everyone else. “Well done, Tyler! That sounded good!” He must’ve been an eye-magnet, as they all once again turned to him. Just sighing it away as the girls erupted into a fit of giggles, he moved on. “I heard you tried out for a band last night, how’d that turn out?”

Grinning, Tyler responded, “Well, I didn’t get anywhere on guitar, but I will be the vocalist.”

“Congrats!” The collie turned to Hunter, who sat across from Tyler, Cecile in his lap, drawing him in with a finger. “I need to talk to you”

The lion turned slumped his head and arched a brow in confusion as the vixen stood up, letting him follow suit. Satisfied, Cross drew him over to the wall nearest them, around the corner so that wandering eyes couldn’t catch their words.

“So,” Hunter grunted, straightening his varsity jacket as was his habit. He looked comfortable, wearing baggy blue-jeans, a brown leather belt, a plain green polo, and new black shoes bearing street designs. Just another hot straight guy to Cross. “What’s up, man?”

Cross looked back to make sure no one was eavesdropping around the corner. It was a good move, too, as he was soon facing a relatively large group of girls, whose faces grew hot red as they rushed away. “Vultures,” he mumbled. Turning back to the lion, his face was gentle, “How’s Avery?”

“Oh,” Hunter said, smiling as he relaxed, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, “He’s good. The doctor said that if he has another attack this week, though, he can’t play in the big game.” The feline laughed, “Am I despicable for thinking about that so quickly over his health?”

Cross just chuckled, “Nah. After all, Avery wants to play. He loves the game. You’re not thinking about the game, you’re thinking about his happiness. Good trait for a big brother, eh?”

“Yeah,” Hunter smiled. He knew all about Moses. After all, there was pretty much not a single person in the entire city that didn’t know about Moses Newman.

His face hardening as he became serious, Cross bluntly commanded the lion. “Hunter, don’t ever stop protecting him.” Turning to see the white wolf, who was dressed in skin-tight white skinny jeans, a sleeveless white t-shirt with rather meaningless colorful designs in the front, and a black turtle-neck underneath, beating Tyler so easily in an arm-wrestling competition, he laughed again. “He may be tougher than he looks, but he’s still fragile.”

The feline stared at him, not sure what to say to something so out-of-the-blue. So, he made a resolve to rest a hand on Cross’s shoulder. “You know, his parents kicked him out for being gay. He’s living with me now.” The collie turned back to him, his blue eyes meeting the lion’s chocolaty ones. “So, he’s officially family. We’ll all protect him. Me. My parents. Tyler too…” Hunter saw another round of Tyler and Avery going at it, resisting the urge to laugh as Tyler’s hopes were crushed. “Okay, Tyler will be more of an emotional outlet.” With that, they let out a round of laughs that overwhelmed them. “All right,” Hunter wheezed out as the laughs faded away, “Anything else wearing you out, big dog?”

“Yeah,” Cross replied as the bell for the next classes rang out, “Thanks, Hunter.”

Seemingly instantly, Avery was there to pull Hunter away. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late! Hey Cross!” The wolf smiled and waved as they walked away.

After they were gone, the big collie just stood there, staring into the void. He had attended some summer classes, and didn’t have a sixth period class, so it bothered him not when the tardy bell rang and the halls were empty and bleak. However, the incessant ringing did force him to move as he turned down the white, empty halls, saying hello to some teachers he passed on the way as they walked about doing miscellaneous errands. Finally, after going up two stories, he arrived at the third art room. He loved that particular room because of the teacher mostly.

Instantly when he entered, the class went silent, and the class, made of mostly freshmen and sophomores, with some scattered juniors but no seniors. The teacher, who sat behind a large table in the back of the room, appeared to have been explaining the proper but all too simple method of blending water colors. He was an older badger, with slicked back white head-fur, while his once darker patterns of black had since faded to salt-and-pepper. His stunning aquamarine eyes turned to the young adult as he smiled. “Ah! Mr. Newman! Here to finally finish that painting? Maybe you can teach these kids about technique!”

“Oh,” the collie beamed as he moved, closing the door behind him, “I don’t really think I’m much of a teacher Mr. Volestrude, but. I will be done with that painting very soon!” As he moved down through the aisle of work-tables, he heard the girls each shriek quietly in captivation, while the smaller freshmen and sophomores meekly yelped.

Finally, as he took his seat behind his personal single-person workspace behind the badger’s desk, he picked up his brush and unwound.

_____________________________

Grunting uncomfortably, Cross released the tabs on his guards, letting the pads fall into his duffel bag with a plop. Around him, the smell of musk and sweat was overwhelming. It was the single thing he hated about the locker rooms: No matter how much they’re cleaned, they still smelled like shit.

Relatively, the room was quiet, as everyone was exhausted. That week was after all, going to be the last game of the year. So, the coach’s drilled them hard. Cross wasn’t even entirely sure whether or not coming to school the rest of the week sounded appealing. However, staying home with his parents was far more annoying an option.

Wearing only his tight white pants, he sat down, taking in deep breaths, letting out a hollow laugh as he saw Ryan nearly passed out on the floor. “Weakling,” he mumbled beneath his broken breath. Of course, others were like that. Others though, were actually very frightening. Avery was bouncing on the balls of his feet! Cross envied that. No matter how hard you pushed that tough little fucker, he’d always push back harder.

So, Avery was the first one in the shower, walking wit his hips swishing into the stalls before steam began to seep out like an eerie fog. Cross did so hard to make sure no one noticed him watching, but nevertheless watched the wolf’s cute little behind. Next in, as Cross finally stood to take the rest of his clothes off, was Ryan. He walked quickly. He quite obviously wanted to be alone to say something to Avery. That made the collie tense up. After how the raccoon had stayed neutral in the “beat the fag” game the night prior, he didn’t like the idea of the two alone.

So, he instantly crossed the room, stepping over some of his less fortunate teammates as they lay sprawled on the floor. Walking into the steam, as he rounded the corner, he was surprised at what he saw, and instantly retreated back into the hall separating the lockers and the showers. Ryan had Avery’s hand in his, his other planted against the wall behind the wolf’s head. He wasn’t sure, because of the showers, if the moisture on his face was from them, or if he had seriously seen the enigmatic raccoon crying.

“I- I’m so… so sorry Avery.” Yeah, the raccoon was definitely crying, as there were only the lightest sobs between his words. “Please forgive me. I p- promise. I will never touch you again.”

It got quiet for a moment, and the dog considered walking back in. “Ryan,” the wolf finally spoke, “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

Once again, things got quiet, so he peeked an eye around the corner. The sight was so cute, as Ryan had his head buried in Avery’s shoulder, crying. For a moment, he found the sight enamoring, before he heard the sounds of movement finally coming from the locker rooms. Fearing for the safety of the two in the showers, and began to whistle as he walked toward the doorway, pretending to just be heading there. Once there, he was happy to see Ryan in the corner away from Avery, washing away, as was the wolf.

Slowly, as he washed the work and grime away, the rest of the team, still tired and weak-kneed, joined them. There was little talk, as no one really felt comfortable conversing in the nude after Avery had come out. It was ridiculous, be every definition of the word. Once Avery strutted his way out of there, no one was shy about using slander against him. Needless to say, as Cross’s patience wore quite thin, he walked out.

Avery was feeding his black belt through his white jeans as Cross walked in. Smiling up as he feed the belt through and fastened it, he spoke, “Hey, Cross. What’s up?”

“Not much”, the collie replied, as he picked up his own clothes on the bench behind the wolf and fed his legs through his boxers. “How’re you holding up? You gave us quite a scare last night.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I’m fine now though. Tough as nails, you know?”

This made the collie laugh. Yeah, the wolf was one hell of a soldier. Which reminded him of something. “Hey, what’re you doing when you get out of school? You’re class valedictorian, after all.”

The wolf laughed, “I’m heading right back to school! I’m going for a major in cardiology. All of these years dealing with my heart problems have definitely given me a heads up on the subject, eh? Guess I’m lucky?” When the sound of changing stopped, Avery turned to see Cross giving him a skeptical and slightly hurt look. He understood the look well; it was of confusion and fear. “Sorry,” he continued, as he turned back to slipping on his turtle-neck. “It’s just that, after all of these years, I can’t help but be positive I’m going to live. If I was going to die from this, then I would have when I gave up. But, I’m here, which means I’m supposed to be.”

The collie, adorning his striped shirt once more, commented quietly. “Hm. Never thought about it like that. You’re pretty damn tough, Lyst.”

That was the end of that, as the rest of the team filed into the room, getting dressed. Avery had to wait on Hunter, as Cross had to on Chris, who was still in swim practice, so the two just spent time catching up on things as they waited. Cross enjoyed it. There was nothing like a nice day, especially when they were so rare.

[Siddy]

Very nice story pup. Are you going be doing more?

[SleepingPup567]

Yep, I've got about 14 Chapters outlined thus far, with much more to come. =3

[SleepingPup567]

Just in case you want to see them, I have a picture of Avery and one of Tyler (Which I will probably replace soon considering the face is a little... well... it's f***ed up) on my FA via these links:

Avery-- h++p://www.furaffinity.net/view/2176957

Tyler-- h++p://www.furaffinity.net/view/2242054

[Siddy]

Wow!! Tyler is really cute and i like Avery have nice eyes.

[SleepingPup567]

Thanks, I'm glad you like them. =3 Chapter 4 is a little hard for me to get started on because I'm not entirely sure how I want to jump into it, but I'm a sly little puppy dog, I'll figure it out.

[SleepingPup567]

Chapter 4. w00t! It was tough. I should warn though that it is rather dull and more in depth character development for Avery mostly. Hopefully the next one will be better. I should warn though, that I will not be home all of June, so chapter five won't show up for a while.

Enjoy!!!

Chapter 4: Doctor’s Orders
December 18, 2010

His face expressed melancholy as he stared off into the sunrise beyond the window. His heart was beating slower than it normally did, which was normal after an attack of that level, so he felt cold, even as he cuddled into his sapphire-colored comforter. The rather cramped room didn’t help very much, either. It was only meant for one person, but now two beds, one for both him and Hunter, matching clumps of school crap neither cared exceedingly about, and two closets filled to the max with clothing, most of which he knew was his own. Avery often tried to convince Hunter that he should allow the wolf to just sleep in the living room at least, but the large, stubborn lion refused the idea.

So now the wolf sat, his consciousness fading between fuzzy to acute as he lingered in the bed. Desiring to get up and walk, he put his feet down to the floor, but instantly found himself drained of all energy. Instead, he looked up and the mirror Hunter had on the entirety of the ceiling. Often wondering why Hunter had that up their, he had asked him about it, only to surprise the wolf in saying that he was interested in becoming a male model, and was slightly vain of his appearance. The very idea of the lion being vain made him laugh, as he knew Hunter was the most kindhearted, modest person around. He saw himself and grimaced. He preferred looking rather feminine, as he was what most called a “flamer”, and was damn proud of it. So, seeing himself looking scruffy… well, scruffier than he usually saw himself in bouts of low-esteem… was rather unnerving. He thought that he looked just about like every serial killer in history as his mind went about in a slightly erratic fashion.

Just sitting there was bothering him, though. He hated feeling weak. So, gripping the wall tightly, leaving some accidental scars, he pushed himself up. He never thought it would be so difficult. It felt like the world was pulling solely on him. Regardless, he trekked toward the door on the other side of the room, keeping an iron hold on the wall, grimacing with each lead-like step. He so close, so beautifully close, when he finally looked down involuntarily by the building pressure, only to see that he was wearing a pair of black boxer-briefs. Not really caring where his red briefs from the night prior were, he cursed, as he hunted for his red jogging pants. Finding them was the easy part, as he walked unsteadily over, elated to feel the pressure lighten up off of him steadily. However, as he braved far enough from the wall to pull up the pants after slipping them under his feet, he instantly regretted it. The fall wasn’t normal at all. Normally, he would feel his body turn before he hit the floor. This time, though, it seemed that the world twisted for him before he felt the caret rub roughly against his flesh beneath the arctic fur.

Avery just sat there, letting his mind catch up with what just happened. “Great,” he mumbled as he angrily pulled his pants the rest of the way up, happy no one was there to see him in such an embarrassing predicament. Once again he had to grip onto the wall as he forced himself to stand once more. He was happy to find that it was much easier the second time as he walked carefully out of the room and turned down the hallway.

It was any other family’s hall, he knew. It had golden walls with a dark brown table in the middle. The wolf glanced at the table as he always did when passing it. On it was an increasingly large array of family pictures of the McGourdeaux family. The parents, a tall muscular lion with a crimson mane and blue eyes, Clyde, and a lithe, black maned lioness with dark chocolaty eyes, Gloria, were both big family people, and took every available chance to take picture of the three children. Apparently, there were a lot of those times, as there were mounds of pictures of Hunter and his two year younger twin siblings Vale and Glade. Avery stopped to look at the most recent picture of the twins. It was at a football game for the junior-varsity team that Vale and Glade both competed in. He had to chuckle though at seeing the younger, male twin Vale blushing as his sister had her arm wrapped around his shoulder as they both held up the state cup their team had won only about a week ago. Honestly, had Avery not known her personally, he would never have known Glade was a girl. She was taller than her brother, but both had blue eyes and Vale had a shoulder-length mane of crimson, and they were both well-built, though Vale was undeniably bulkier than his sister, who preferred to keep a more supple form as a woman. Glade was the first female to ever play on the football team in the history of the school, and on top of that, she was a complete dyke. Originally, she was thought of as just a tomboy, but when Clyde and Gloria found her making out with one of her few female friends, her lesbianism wasn’t exactly transparent anymore. They didn’t care though. In fact, they joined numerous LGBT parental support groups.

Then, Avery saw the newest picture. It showed the five lions having a picnic during a warm summer day. Vale was leaning up against the tree in the background, talking to Hunter who was only visible because he twisted his head around the trunk. Glade was laughing with her mom about some random joke the two discovered while talking. Clyde was leaning around the camera to be seen from behind it. However, a small white wolf was way out of place. Avery was laughing hard as Glade had him tucked beneath her arm, roughly ruffling his hair. It was the first picture that Avery had taken as a new member of the McGourdeaux family. It made him involuntarily smile.

“He should be better after a nice meal.” Avery could hear the soft voice drifting up the stairs. The voice was one he heard often. Even then he could imagine the middle-aged Siamese cat sitting in the McGourdeauxs’ velvety violet-red rocking chair, his legs crossed and his right hand holding up his head as he stared rather absently at the floor from sleep that evaded him not only in the night he was called, but so many nights before. “However,” the wolf began to sullenly walk down the dark sienna stairs, trying to find out what the cat had to say in the ‘However’-Department before he got down, “If he has one more attack, he-”

As Avery left the last step and walked down what little length of the hallway he had left, Vale spoke up, his voice firm but with a shoddy undertone, “Don’t say he won’t make it…” The statement was absolutely radical and pessimistic, but his entire family had been thinking the exact same thing, he was only the voice.

“Oh!” Dr. Reynold’s soft voice struck a note higher than usual in surprise. “No, no! Nothing like that! It’s just-” The white furred young man rounded the corner, placing an elbow against the frame, his hand on the other arm resting on his hip. They all looked at him quickly, all having a slightly startled light in their eyes. As to whether it was merely his presence, or his rather rugged morning appearance that startled them, he did not know. “He won’t be able to compete in the state finals this Friday,” the doctor’s voice was once again soft as he looked the lupine up and down.

Silence engulfed the room, and Avery grew uneasy as all eyes stayed fixed on him. He hated how repetitive the routine was. Every time he had an attack, the morning after he would wake u to hear Dr. Reynolds explaining the situation once everyone was awake, seeing as they always usually happened when he and Hunter were out late. Of course, he had arrived there much later and had stubbornly chosen to wait and check on the lupine’s condition after he woke up.

Glade was the first to move, as she rose to her feet slowly, wearing a pair of denim short-shorts and a white tank-top, and walked over to Avery. For a moment, she stared into his pink eyes uncertainly with her blue ones, before wrapping her arms around his neck. The first time she had done this, Avery had choked up. However, by then, all he could do was wrap his arms around her. He knew what was happening, they all knew. Each time these attacks arose, the closer he was to dying.

Dr. Reynolds moved on to his most painful point, “We are still searching for a compatible heart for you, Avery. However, the recent international wars have caused a fierce short-handedness in them. The United States has so far avoided military-involvement, but it has been sending medical assistance to ally countries.” The feline’s arctic-blue eyes locked onto him, “I swear Avery, once one is available, you will be treated.”

His eyes remained solid and firm. “That is fine Dr. Reynolds. I understand the difficulty of finding the match.” He took in a slow breath as glade pushed herself back, but his slender hand remained on her rather muscular shoulder. “And I am in no rush. I am not afraid.”

He smiled gently at the cat, who momentarily looked stunned, but eventually returned the smirk. “Anyone ever tell you you’re tough, kid?”

For the first time all morning the room filled positively with chuckles as the entire lion pack answered with a unanimous, “All the time!” Of course, that elicited only deeper chuckles from the group that turned into hardy laughter.

“Well,” Reynolds said as he stood gripping his knees for support before arching his back to let multiple vertebrae pop. “I’ll be heading out. I think I might just take the day off and let that new kid try out a test run alone for a day.” He was mumbling to himself as he touched his right index finger to his chin, letting his eyes rise up as if the ceiling was a Magic Eight-Ball ready to burst with a gambling yes-or-no. Digressing, he reached down and picked up his black leather bag before shaking both Clyde and Gloria’s hands. Then, he bowed a head toward the white wolf who stood out rather awkwardly against the large group of felines.

As he began to walk out, opening the door to the cool outside world, Avery muttered to him, “And you really should sleep more Doctor, no offense, but the bags under your eyes have become rather horrendous.” As the door shut quietly, the aging Siamese let out a tired giggle.

The family sat in another moment of nervous silence before Gloria stood, clapping her hands together quietly. “Alright, alright! Glade, Vale, Hunter! The three of you head upstairs and get ready for school!” As the three lions rose, and Avery turned to go get ready as well, the lioness in charge grabbed him by his arm, “Uh-uh. You, mister, are lying down again.”
Gently, she guided him down onto the couch next to her husband, who stood and ruffled his head fur. “Yeah, pup. We’ll take you to school later on, but for now, rest. And I suppose you heard what Dr. Reynolds said about Friday’s game?”

The wolf nodded a confirmative, “Yes, Mr. McGourdeaux.” As the two adult began to walk away, he called out to them. “And, Mr. and Mrs. McGourdeaux,” they turned to him, giving him rather questioning arches of the eyebrows, “Thanks for letting me stay here… It must be the millionth time I’ve said that.”

“Rest, kid,” Clyde said with a caring smile as he walked away, his baggy green sleeping pants waving with each step.

The next three hours were quiet as Avery lay on the couch. Hunter and his sibling each gave him a hug as they left. They looked rougher than usual, and he felt guilty for that, knowing that the guilt was stupid but nevertheless there. Other than that, there was silence, eve as Gloria left the house in a nice brown suit, petting his head softly before she walked out.
Finally, Clyde came back though, wearing comfortable clothing for a lawyer. It was just a casual blood-red muscle-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. “How you feelin’, pup?”

Avery pushed himself into a sitting position, flinging his legs off the sofa as the lion took a seat next to him. “Better than I did. Getting out will help… What’re you still doing home, anyways? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Oh, well,” the lion seemed a little hesitant as he explained, “I took the day off in case you might need help… and… someone needs to drop some stuff off, and I don’t enjoy the thought of him being within a three lock radius of his house without either myself or Gloria being here.” He stretched his arms across the couch, letting one fall over Avery’s shoulder before he saw the look a terror in his eyes. Immediately, he went into a fatherly-protectiveness, “Don’t worry Avery, I won’t let him hurt you.” Just then, the doorbell rang, sending blood-stopping chills descend through Avery’s spine and body as Clyde stood to answer.

He walked to the door slowly, sighing as he rounding into the wall that separated the door from view of the living room. Avery could just barely hear him over his hasted breaths, “Yeah, just leave it in the living room, Zeke.”
Just that name made the horrified wolf’s eyes widen as a tall, average-built white wolf walked into the room, his cranberry colored eyes sharply piercing the air around Avery. He was wearing a brown leather jacket and a pair of brown slacks over a white shirt with a red tie. Immediately, he locked Avery in his sight and gave him a condemning glare before he sat down a box full of what the younger wolf knew to be his own clothes.

It was rather unintentionally that Avery stood and waked closer to the man, being careful to still stay out of arm’s reach. Clyde seemed to glide over to them, close enough to intervene if things went awry.

The younger wolf was speechless, holding a fist close to his chest defensively, trying to build an emotional wall between hi and the person in front of him. “Hi… Dad…” He said it so quietly, almost as if not to be heard.
He expected screaming, raging at having called Bryan that, but didn’t get it. “I’m not your father… you’re not my son. I don’t raise fags.” It was so simple and quiet. It seemed like denouncing his son… his only son… was no task whatsoever. Avery had heard it all before, and was able to constrain his emotions. Clyde, though, felt suffocated. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend it. The thought of having something like that conspire between him and any of his children over something that wasn’t their fault was so alien. It just didn’t seem possible.

“But, Dad-”

Nothing was said, as Bryan committed a vile act against his son. Avery was only left stunned as he wiped the liquid off his face. He couldn’t believe it as he finally opened his eyes to see Clyde escorting his father rather roughly out the door. His father had just spat in his face…

“-and don’t come back! You aren’t welcome!” The large lion was screaming as the wolf quietly and calmly left, his car screeching madly as he turned away onto another street, hell bound to never go into that area again. For a moment, Clyde could only stare at where the car had last been before turning out of sight. The pain of watching that was... surreal in every sense of the word. Avery was to him, another son. He was so sweet, intelligent, and mature beyond his time. The lion had heard the wolf crying over this when he thought he was alone. Avery wanted so badly to put up a masquerade of strength that would only strangle him, but he kept going.
Finally, Clyde turned to see him once again sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees while he cradles his face in his gentle white-furred hands. His eyes were blank and unreadable as he put on his enigmatic stare. Just subtly he could see the canine’s Adam’s-apple shaking as he held back the torrent behind the storm of questions. Though an experienced father, he had never once had to face something so brutal even with his own children… no, it didn’t matter. Avery was now one of his own.

With slow, delicate steps he padded toward the couch, running a hand through Avery’s head-fur gently, eliciting a slight groan of surprise. He could tell the wolf didn’t want to, but nevertheless he did look up, staring for a moment into Clyde’s calm, loving eyes before blushing and taking in the view of the floor. The lion had no idea just how much he could get away with at the moment. All the same, he took a seat next to him, moving his hand down to the young man’s back, moving his soft pads up and down.

“Avery. I realize that this hurts. I do. I won’t lie and say I know just how much.” But…” He wasn’t entirely certain how the canine was going to react, but he felt compelled, pulling him closer, wrapping his arms around him. “Avery... you are so sweet, talented, and loving. And… I just want you to know; I feel like you, and Tyler as well, are just extensions to the family. Extra cubs to look after.” The wolf looked up at him, his eyes watery and cold. “You’re always welcome here.”

It was unavoidable, as the canine started to sob into his shoulder. He could feel the wet tears against his fur, and the pulsating of his body as he took small breaths between his weeping. He almost wanted to cry himself. To see someone so inspirational in so much pain was hard. So, he just tightened his arms, pulling him closer. That was how a father handled things. Everyone… no matter how old or how stubborn… everyone eventually needed a shoulder to cry on.

_____________________

“Yeah! Good Job, Lyst!” He could hear the large equine coach yelling as he ran right through the smallest gap between the two players who lunged with their full weight at him, warping his body in a way only such a lithe body could. The field perfect that day. The winter breeze was soothing against the tight materials of his uniform and pads as he stepped over the in-zone. He turned to se the two guys he had blocked glaring at him, pissed as they took of their helmets. One was an extremely cute panther named Baron, and the other was the annoying pug Allen. It was a rather ingenious rule of Coach Kezka’s. Anytime you were slipped by or effectively blocked, you ran a single round of the fourth-mile track. Needless to say half of the team always had to do at least one lap after every play.

“Sucks for them, too,” he thought. The guys were tired. Avery however, had had enough sleep last night and that morning that by the time he got to class around fourth period, he was full of excess energy.

He decided not to dwell though, as the coach called in everyone who wasn’t running to go get in the showers. Thankful, he took off his helmet, letting it air-out as his face satisfactorily met the breeze, making him smile. The walk was nice, and since he was farthest from the door, he got to see all of the white-clad asses he wanted, letting himself indulge in a rather pathetic passion. Of course… there wasn’t much to look at, so it wasn’t all that pathetic, more like boring. So, giving a small wave to Hunter who headed the first of the runners who would come out alive, he went inside.

Instantly, he smelled what could be described as “rancid jock” heaven. The fragrance was horrible, like musk mixed rotting fungi. It was nice not having to deal with the annoyingly seductive smell of those guys. Especially the guys that, if he looked at them for just a second, he would fear for his sight.
He moved with a spring in his step, too, humming as he stripped off his clothes, doing his best not to step on any of the slackers passed out on the ground. For a moment he looked up at Cross who was only a few feet from him, wondering what he had talked to Hunter about during lunch, before letting himself strut to the showers, his tail swinging limply and his soft fur whipping about in the air. He felt like he was on top of the world at that time, his muscles stinging with adrenaline as he winded down, walking to a shower head and letting warm water flow over him.

It felt so good, so relaxing. Letting his mind unwind, he didn’t notice two black arms slipping against the wall in front of him. When he did notice it, though, he turned quickly, only to find himself face to face with Ryan again. At first, he was frightened, trying to find a way out of the raccoon raping him in the damn locker room. But, when he finally able to identify the tears rolling down Ryan’s cheeks, he understood. “Ryan, what’s wrong?” Stupid questions, he knew…

The raccoon moved back, his blonde hair now wet and mashed against his brown fluff, one eyes hidden while the other stared at him. “Avery… I… I…”
There was a silence as a black, glove like hand covered his mouth. He was trying to find the words. It hurt the raccoon so much, Avery could tell. He saw the hurt beneath the surface, the secrets and scars. He couldn’t determine the specifics, but knew enough to see pain. It was the same look he saw in the mirror constantly.

“I- I’m so… so sorry Avery. Please forgive me. I p- promise. I will never touch you again.” Avery had heard that before… but… there hadn’t been that painfully truthful ping in there the last times. They were always hollow and tearless. Now though, there was emotion. He saw Ryan awake and alive. His day had most certainly been interesting.

Happily, he slunk two arms around the raccoon, pulling him close, intimately, as he buried his muzzle in the brown neck-fur, letting the warm tears and the shower water wash down his shoulder. He felt warm, secure, and happy for once. Just… for once.

He wished to stand there, frozen in time. He couldn’t help but cuss quietly as a whistling came down the hall connecting the lockers and showers. Immediately, he felt the enigmatic youth move away, giving him a blank stare as he situated himself in front of a head on the other side of the room.
The rest of the time was boring, drying and dressing. It was nice to chat with Cross though. Of course, he regretted making the collie feel sad with what he had said. But, hey. What he had said was true. He didn’t fear angels of death. Long ago he had opened himself to their blades, but they didn’t partake. Now, the gates to hell in his heart was long since chained shut. Yes, he still felt pain. Yes, he still cried. He did not, however, want to die.
As he walked into the parking lot, he noticed the breeze had died down, and the silence was dead and frozen. To his left, on the filed he had not long ago been practicing on, he saw the underclassmen practicing. By a stroke of intuition he found Glade and Vale, now able to pick them out just by the make of their bodies. He smiled as the sister took her brother down playfully when he wasn’t watching.

Then he heard something unusual, a motorcycle in the parking lot. He would normally just ignore it. No one drove a motorcycle in Alamston High, and Hunter was busy getting some last minute tutoring he forgot about. So, he was stuck there until he got out with the car keys. It made him wonder why Hunter wouldn’t just let him tutor him. It didn’t really matter, as long as the lion passed, the wolf supposed, laying a hand on the strap of messenger bag and another on his hip as he walked toward the engine sound, curious of its owner.

As he walked around the side of the building he heard voices from the parking lot which was void of all but what few teachers’ cars remained and some football players. The first he recognized. He could tell his favorite otter’s voice from anyone’s as he rounded the corner to find himself standing right next to a white Kawasaki Ninja and between Tyler and an adult red panda he had never met before.

Both jumped as he popped out of nowhere, making him chuckle. “Jumpy, Tyler?” He asked it so sarcastically, just to bug him.

“Don’t do that Avery! Shit!” He was clutching his chest slightly. The otter had always been a little paranoid and anxious. Eventually, his breath leveled, and he found the Dante and Avery staring intently at each other curiously. “Oh! Um,” he pointed to the red panda, and then to the wolf, “Dante, Avery. Avery, Dante.”

They both smiled an Avery waved deafly at him, his baggy sleeve slinking down over his arm. The panda was cute, or so he thought. He was wearing a leather jacket and ordinary white T-shirt beneath it with some worn-out blue jeans. His silver eyes glistened as he looked him up and down. “Hello, Dante. It’s nice to meet you!”

Dante was curious, and both of the two friends could see cogs in his head going rather madly about. Spontaneously, as he looked from the otter to the wolf, he looked straight at Avery, “Nice to meet you too. Say, we have a show playing. A Night in Paradise, I assume you know about it from Tyler. Would you like to come?”

Dante seemed very interested in Avery… but not necessarily for himself, as he looked from him to Tyler expectantly. It seemed like he was planning something…