!!! note Important for understanding dialogue
In this story, our lovely protagonist Anon speaks near-exclusively in lowercase, as he's a rather laid-back, casual speaker, no matter the conditions. If you ever find yourself in doubt as to which character is speaking, look to the capitalization, as the first letter of Anon's sentences will almost always be lowercase.
***
>3 years ago, you met the love of your life
>clever, ambitious, supportive, and exceptionally cute, Avery was as perfect as a boyfriend could be
>even after your relationship’s initial phase of infatuation, your feelings for each other never once faltered
>in fact, the more you learned about one another, the more you wanted to explore each of your characteristics
>hopes, dreams, fears… sensitive, deeply-held philosophies on life
>you were comfortable sharing shit with him that Guantanamo Bay torture couldn’t get out of you
>you suppose that’s what it means to open up your heart to someone
>he told you about how his tactical expertise helps him to keep confident and relieve stress
>when you can afford it, after all, firing some big ass guns really does make you feel powerful
>but how it also gave him some independence from everyone’s expectations of a prim, proper young man
>his father actually never wanted him to get into firearms like himself, fearing not only potential harm to his son but also his reputation
>Avery was clearly not a fan of that belief, if his tone was anything to go by
>he's not a child anymore, and he's not going to ruin anyone's career by being stupid with one of his rifles
>he prefers to keep his hobby a secret simply because he doesn’t want people to be scared of him
>especially with how often he likes to wear revealing attire while out shooting
>being in the great outdoors as natural as you can get, especially for an anthro, is particularly exhilarating, he explained
>”And... I guess I’ve always been kind of an exhibitionist” he added in a hushed, embarrassed whisper
>he admits he was a little ambitious going out in his thigh-highs so soon after first meeting you but… he had a good feeling you wouldn’t mind too much
>...you wonder what he meant by that exactly
>it was also really interesting how stuff that you never gave attention to before became so much fun with him around
>hand-reloading ammunition was a neat little side hobby to branch out into, for instance
>the fundamental skill set required wasn’t too different from what you’re already familiar with
>and it was pretty cute seeing him so appreciative of your help in saving his more oddball cartridge types
>the way he rushed over to kiss you after successfully firing your first recycled round is an experience you’ll never forget
>of course, with any relationship, there were a few periods of strife and uncertainty
>you consider it a blessing that any quarrels that came up between the two of you were never mean-spirited and quick to find resolve
>honestly, each moment you two spent together, no matter how simple or mundane, was nothing short of beautiful
>there was no doubt about it, you were absolutely sure that you had found the one to spend the rest of your life with
>…but… you suppose nothing lasts forever
>and it seems that your young love came to meet a misfortune as common as it is tragic
>a year or so after his graduation, Avery was accepted into Dice University, a prestigious institute known for well-respected graduates and first-rate academia
>the kind of place people throw their eyebrows up when you tell them you matriculated there
>getting your degree at Dice almost guarantees you a fantastic employment outcome
>it was probably his snobby connections that gave him the golden ticket, but still…
>his grades, extracurricular achievements, and all that other bullshit colleges tend to look for were admittedly impressive as well
>he was so hyped to tell you, and you were so happy for him
>after all, an ivy-adjacent like that is an honor to attend, no matter who you may be
>but the thing is… the campus is nearly 3 hours away from where you live, and that’s assuming the traffic is decent
>not to mention that the rigorous curriculum Dice sets for their students demands significant focus throughout the day
>so even if you tried converting to long-distance, which *was* absolutely possible…
>realistically, how much time could you actually spend together anymore?
>so once Avery started attending… it wasn’t long before you could barely see each other
>plans to meet up became further interspersed, further suspended…
>and as a result, your relationship, as wonderful as it was, slowly but surely drifted away
>…
>haha, imagine though, right?
>got your bitch ass, huh?
>truth is… you *thought* this would end up being the case, but the reality of what happened is even wilder
>your thoughts are cut short by your phone’s alarm going off, a shrill joining of chords that you really should bother to change some day
>a few heads turn in annoyance for a split second, but you manage to switch it off before drawing anyone’s ire
>damn it, gotta remember to shut that thing off before heading into the library
>looks like you'll need to get a move on if you don't want to miss your lecture
>the last one the professor had for curved-arrow formalism was way more complex than you initially anticipated
>keeping your notes up-to-date is crucial here if you don’t wanna fall behind
>you know that the coursework can get fucking brutal if you let it pile up
>but even if it gets especially stressful for you some weeks, it's all worth it
>since, after all, you get to attend the most distinguished institute in the entire state with the most amazing boyfriend in the entire world
-> Part 1 <-
>so how exactly did you come to get accepted into Dice?
>well, apparently, a fucking miracle from Xenu himself occurred
>it seems that a *certain someone’s* father was convinced into talking with one of the university’s trustees
>you know, the one that’s been his Bridge partner for over 7 years now
>he put in a glowing review about you, a young man who shows exemplary expertise and passion in his discipline going far beyond the academic standard
>(*...Please, Hendrick, if you could just do me this one favor. My son really wants that weird boy to attend with him.*)
>so imagine your shock when one day, after checking the mail for that package of caustic soda you ordered a while back (don’t ask why)
>you instead received an offer for a full tuition scholarship for Dice’s chemistry undergraduate program
>you couldn’t believe it
>with that slip of paper, your entire life was flipped on its head
>gone would be the days of scrounging around for scrap metal and department store chemicals
>now, you’d have access to a fully stocked laboratory and machining facility
>a hundred little experiments you’ve always had back-burnered suddenly popped to the forefront
>your mother couldn't stop jumping out of joy when she found out
>she always knew her little man’s talent would finally be recognized some day
>by someone other than the police, of course
>it was all a little surreal for you to process at the time… could Avery really have done this just for you, no strings attached?
>but over the next few months, as the paperwork was finalized and the orientation process completed, it became increasingly obvious that this really was the case
>you get to pursue a career in the field you’re happiest in with the best instructional material you could possibly ask for
>do this right, and you were set for life
>but even then, it wasn’t all sparkles and rainbows
>for one, moving into your dorm room was a bit of a somber experience, saying your farewells to your friends and family
>this new chapter in your life meant closing the page on the last one, and although you can always revisit them, you’ll have to move on
>you know this is a normal part of growing up, of course, but damn... you really like those guys, y'know?
>you wish you could’ve gotten a nicer room too, but this isn’t exactly a “full ride” scholarship
>room and board are still coming out of your own pocket, so a shitty twin bed it was
>even with all that’s been provided for you, you still had to take a job as a stocker for a wholesale business in order to afford the rent
>you’ve heard plenty of horror stories about the struggles of balancing work duties and college curriculum
>you’ll need to stay vigilant and set a strong yet flexible schedule for yourself in order to keep on top
>...fortunately, your roommate is a pretty cool dude
>a bit of a weirdo, admittedly, who spends way too much time inside the dorm by himself
>but he always pays his half on time and makes a good effort to keep the place clean
>he even hooked you up with a jailbroken PSP for $10
>Patapon, my beloved… finally, you return to me…
>Avery found himself a nice little apartment to call his own around 20 minutes away from you
>just like his father, he decided to major in business with a concentration in finance
>it’s an online hybrid program, where a lot of the major courses are done through an online framework
>meaning that, essentially, his elective classes are the only ones he has to physically show up for
>this gives him a whole lot more free time compared to you
>you *would* be jealous, but honestly, it works out pretty well for you too
>because he often uses the extra time to prepare little date nights for the both of you
>dinners at hole-in-the-wall restaurants, museum exhibits, public theater events
>one time he reserved two hours for a rage room
>it was… oddly arousing how easily his girlish figure seemed to swing that sledgehammer around
>overall, it's a pretty sweet deal for the both of you
>still… it worries you a bit how much he seems to rely on his dad for both his current and future life plans
>you had a feeling that he’s only getting the freedom he has now because he’s following his father’s orders
>was he getting enough of a chance to discover what he wants to do in life without the pressure from his dad’s influence?
>but he assured you that this is what he's genuinely interested in, and that he could support himself if need be
>hell, if he wanted to give it all up and become a chicken farmer, he could
>he's not afraid of losing his heritage like he used to be
>you still harbored a bit of doubt, but ultimately decided to trust that he knows what's best for himself
>his personal checking account at least assured you that finances won't be an issue for some time
>...so, with all of that serious stuff out of the way, let’s move on to something nicer
>for starters, how the two of you have grown over the years
>with a more developed mind and a newfound responsibility in life, you’d like to believe that your previously volatile mindset has simmered down somewhat
>you’re still you, of course, but you now find yourself a little less prone to always looking for the negatives in life
>and any knives you fashion from here on out will be used exclusively as kitchenware
>razor sharp, highly intimidating kitchenware
>Avery, interestingly enough, seems to be more adventurous than before, perhaps feeling a little more comfortable to be himself at Dice
>his popularity certainly hasn’t waned, and over half the campus still seems to know and love him
>but that mature, collected self he previously presented has evolved to become a bit more bold, perhaps even more risqué
>you’ve seen a couple of his previous classmates turn bright pink when they heard him say a naughty joke for the first time in their lives
>perhaps you're a bit of a bad influence on him, huh? Boo-hoo
>The both of you have grown physically, as well
>You now stand at a respectable 5’11”, and Avery at a whole… 5’4”
>You don’t mention the height difference too much to him… but you *do* like to randomly pet his head while you’re both standing
>much to his annoyance
>other than that, you’re pretty much the same two dudes you’ve always been
>a little disappointing is that fact that you can’t be as reckless as before in your experiments, what with this “code of conduct” you have to adhere to
>doesn’t even sound real… *cuotte auf conducte*… what is that, French or something?
>at any rate, you’ll have to find a nice little isolated ditch somewhere in order to try out anything *really* cool
>some habits never die, it seems
>and Avery, now quite some distance away from his usual range, is on the hunt for a new spot
>one where he won’t garnish too much attention and potentially reveal his secret passion to the university
>to help cover for him, you’ve heroically volunteered to accompany him whenever he tries out a new location
>if anyone spots him, you’ll simply say that *you* were the one that brought him, trying to give him a taste for gunpowder for once in his city-boy life
>this was totally not a ploy to fuck around and shoot guns with him, no siree
>actually, you have plans to check out an outdoor range with him after class today
>a pretty little spot, nestled between some verdant, rolling hills where old farts like to congregate for skeet shooting
>a bit like the Shire if they all had shotguns, very lovely stuff
>just gotta get through this lecture and, um…
>...
>oh, sweet fucking Jesus, this is the dining hall!
>you autopiloted to the wrong fucking place while lost in thought
>get your bitch ass to lecture, **now**, before you’re late!
-> Part 2 <-
>the hills are alive with the sound of gunfire
>a local herd of martini-swirling Boomers can be found meandering across their meadow in bold, feisty strides
>and why wouldn’t they? They’ve laid claim to this range all too formidably
>here, they can escape from their mundane and mediocre, their stable and sterile
>and join forces against this world that dares to believe them so feeble
>old? Hah! You won’t find *these* folks taking afternoon strolls alongside the local sidewalk greenery
>no, the pigeons at this park are fed a different bird seed, the frisbees are thrown with more gusto
>a withdrawn little slice of heaven, here on Earth, it surely must be
>so imagine their distain when they discover two little *yuppies* entering their grounds, all tomfoolery, no tradition
>and one of them an *anthro* at that… one of those… no, perhaps it shouldn’t be said out loud
>(Bah! Best keep your distance from those two… lest they try and get too comfortable here, invading our beautiful abode)
>…you swear, you can almost read the minds of these geezers as they subtly distance themselves from you and Avery
>not like you were planning on making buddy-buddy with any of them, but still
>did they really have to side-eye the both of you so indiscreetly?
>couldn’t they at least appreciate that Avery adhered to their stupid dress code and didn’t show up in nothing but a thong and a plate carrier
>(...much to both of your disappointment)
>fortunately, he doesn’t seem to mind their rudeness too much, even though you’re pretty sure he’s noticed as well
>“You said your granddad had a shotgun back then… Did he teach you how to use it at all?”
>“well… he let me shoot it a couple times… and i didn’t end up blowing anyone’s head off.”
>“Nice work, very proud of you… but maybe I can teach you to actually hit a target as a bonus.”
>by no stretch has Avery ever claimed to be an expert at skeet shooting, but he’s been insistent for quite some time on giving you a taste for it
>perhaps he’s worried that you’ve grown bored of watching him test his usual arsenal
>of course, you’d never get tired of seeing him happy… but you *do* like the idea of getting to fire one of his more lofty guns
>and hoisted over his shoulder lies an impressive piece of work indeed
>a 32” barrel, blued steel valiantly gleaming, is quick to meet the eye, and the polished walnut stock, its marbled grain fervently billowing, catches you staring
>such sophisticated engravings, the tasteful checkering of it… a bombshell of a boomstick no doubt
>you wonder if some of these guys are really more jealous of him than anything, carrying around a beauty like that
>“...is this really a good starter gun?”
>“No, not by a longshot. This thing is unironically top of the line. Fucking pain in the ass to get it, but it fires so smooth, it was worth the hassle.”
>“I’m having you try it though because once you get used to it, everything else will feel like shit.”
>“You’ll have no choice but to come to *me* when you wanna go sport shooting.”
>“oh, i’m *devastated*. poor innocent me getting unwittingly hooked to shooting clays with Avery.”
>“pretty soon, you’ll trick me into bare chested plinking with tannerite charges, huh?”
>“Yep. I’m a monster, aren’t I?” he teases, unaware of his tail wagging up a storm behind him
>seems he took quite a liking to your little idea there
>“Well, anyways, the good news is that no matter what you’re using, getting the gist of it is pretty simple.”
>he hands you the immaculate shotgun, its break-action open and awaiting orders
>compared to what the two of you usually operate, this gun seems relatively light and maneuverable
>“Now, generally, you wanna keep your feet shoulder-width apart, give yourself a good axis so you can easily turn with the gun.”
>“Moving targets are a little different from what we usually do, but just follow my advice, and you’ll do fine.”
>“feeling real confident with your know-how there, huh?”
>“Hell yeah. Now… since you’re firing with your right hand, line up your left shoulder with your left leg and set them in front. You’ll distribute your weight there when firing.”
>you replicate his instructions as best you can, carefully getting into position
>“...No, no, you’re setting yourself out too far.”
>“well, what do you mean *set them in front*, yo-”
>“You gotta *brace*, you gotta brace for the- See, you can’t bend your leg at that angle.”
>this fox is wonderful in so many aspects of your life, this you know, but *teaching*… well, it’s far from his strong suit
>Avery repeatedly fidgets with your stance, slowly growing further exasperated with your posing
>“Now lean, Anon, lean into the gun, but careful not t- Your *body*, Anon. Don’t lean with your head, lean with your body, please…”
>it’s a little amusing how worked up he gets over something so simple
>sometimes all of his fussing can get a little annoying, but you know he means well
>if you asked him to stop, you know he would… but sometimes it's more fun to mess with him instead
>“Okay… just tilt yourself at a little more of an angle, maybe you’ll be fine.”
>you hesitate a moment, pretending to consider what he meant, before tilting the shotgun at a 45 degree angle, gangsta style
>“you mean like this?”
>“Oh m- *SAMIR LISTEN TO MY CALLS*” he begins to plead
>“bro, you’re stressing out over nothing! look, I’ll get it with experience, it’ll take no time at all.”
>“It’s just-… alright, I guess we can try it. Christ… And what are you smirking for?!”
>“you take this shit *waaay* too seriously, how am i not supposed to find it funny?”
>“You should consider yourself lucky. My dad had me focus for a week exclusively on footwork and aiming before he let me fire a single shell.”
>“that’s… so very, very sad.”
>“Tell me about it… but because of it, I’ve never had a single dry streak in all my years of shooting. I’d like for you to hold a similar track record.”
>both of your bullshittery aside, you perform decently at each station, albeit missing way more than you’re happy with
>the gun fires beautifully, with a well-balanced recoil and a point that seems to come on target as fluidly as a computer mouse
>but it's definitely meant for more pompous hands, or at least ones that can bust clays more effectively
>sometimes you swear you take a little corner piece off the disc, but alas, no point is awarded
>you realize now that Avery’s high score of 9 is actually pretty decent
>it seems you can’t even hit 3 of the fucking things in a row
>“I’ll give it up, you did pretty good for your first time. See, I knew you had it in you.”
>his words are punctuated with a semi-hearty slap to your back, unexpectedly jostling you
>“oh, uh, yeah, *hah*… guess I do!” you attempt to counter, swiftly going in for a revenge slap on his fat foxy behind
>…only to remember that you’re still in wide view of public, just barely halting yourself in time from following through
>Avery stares at you like a doe in the headlights, fully aware of your snuffed out indecent intentions
>“oh… right.” you hastily acknowledge. “...my bad.”
>his furry tail, which unconsciously raised itself in anticipation of your strike, settles back down
>“Y-yeah, you’re fine, uh… let’s… head over to the pistol area.”
>you make your way over to the small arms range, a dusty little corner of the park containing little more than some makeshift stands and steel sheets
>perhaps it’s a courtesy that they even set it up in the first place, given how it has nothing to do with the clays
>some of the regulars here likely requested its construction for trying out their little pawn shop revolvers
>but Avery brought over something a little more ethnic to mess around with
>a Bulgarian Makarov he bought mainly for historical novelty, but also apparently a decent pistol for starting out with
>until now, you’ve only been firing rifles with him, and while those can certainly hold some kick, pistols are especially difficult to handle correctly
>you intend to not make a fool of yourself too early, treating this weapon as your first gatekeeper of experienced shooting
>…although as long as you live, you’ll never refer to it with the nickname Avery has so graciously bestowed upon it
>“Alright, admittedly, it’s been a while since I last fired Mr. Bulgy Wulgy, but I cleaned and oiled him just before we left, so…”
>“...”
>“What? Something on my face?”
>“is the ‘mr.’ honorific really necessary?”
>“Well, yes, he’s still a ‘Mr.’ for now. He hasn’t earned his doctorate yet.”
>“oh my fucking god.”
>“Well, anyway, you gotta be careful with this one. Snappy as a motherfucker. Get a feel for it, take your time.”
>for a pistol, this bulgy feels surprisingly bulky in your hands (giggity)
>but you suppose a semi-experienced shooter such as yourself can only know so much about how to handle each weapon they’re given
>you take Avery’s advice, lining up your shot and just barely squeezing upon the tension of the trigger
>you want to know exactly how far you can go, the force in your grasp when you finally break that limit
>and as unfortunately expected, the shot is too sharp and sudden for you to compensate
>you end up just barely hitting the paper target itself, let alone within the a-zone
>the embarrassment is short-lived, but stings all the same
>so much for all that mental prep… well, time to fuck around instead
>with your self-induced pressure to succeed now forlorn, you allow yourself to relax and focus on getting used to the firearm iself rather than its results
>as it turns out, it ends up being a much more effective way to learn, and your overall accuracy quickly tightens up
>“Having fun? Don’t fuck around too much, 9x18 can be a bitch to find nowadays.”
>”yeah, i’m just calibrating myself to this one. y’know, i actually kinda like it. it’s got a real milspec LARPer feel to it.”
>”i’d imagine, though, that you’d wanna opt for a glock if you just want a little something to beat up.”
>”Pah, *boring*. Now you’re starting to sound like my dad.”
>”am i? huh... hey, i’ve always wondered… what got the both of you into shooting anyway?”
>”Heh, that was actually long before we moved here. We used to live in a much stricter state. Short magazines, ammo restrictions, the works.”
>”Can’t remember exactly why my dad started, but he used to go to this nice little indoor range… Joey’s something-something, I forgot the name.”
>”It was actually sort of an anthro refuge, in a way… sometimes people in the country can be real aggressive… it gave us a place to be secure, well armed...”
>“Sometimes my dad would take me there with him… the kangaroo behind the counter was such a nice guy, even bought a sick BB gun for me to try out there.”
>“Pretty sure my dad still calls him from time to time.”
>you listen intently, carefully deciphering his words amidst the semi-distant pops of shotgun blasts
>“...sounds like the place to be, huh? I’m sure it’d be fun to see it again sometime, maybe tell that guy how good you’ve gotten over the years.”
>“Haha, yeah… Yeah, actually… my uncle still lives over there. We could visit him and-”
>he suddenly gasps and turns to meet your eyes, a sparkle beaming within his
>”Oh my god, I could take you there! You could see it too!”
>wasn’t exactly what you had in mind, but his sudden burst of enthusiasm eliminates any intentions you may have had to refuse him
>”hah, it would be an honor… well, once we’re able to, of course.”
>you leave it at that for now and continue your practice
>later on, Avery, upon seeing your noticeable progress, decides to propose a friendly competition
>”Let’s see who can get the tightest spread on the 25 yards. I won’t make you bet or anything, just wanna show you up.”
>”oh? is that so? well don’t get too cocky. maybe i’ll introduce you to the first dry steak of your life, how about that?”
>his face immediately straightens upon hearing that, his competitive spirit instantly roused
>”As if.”
>haha… as if indeed
>because in a stunning turn of events, in a single magazine exhibition, you end up outperforming him at short-range target shooting
>his initial shots were much clunkier and off-kilter than he was expecting, and from there, his frustrations seemingly mounted, as well as his impatience
>but while you were still far from a deadeye, you surprised yourself with what a level head and a bit of experience could really do
>it was a close game, and admittedly a rather short one, but it seems you took home the gold
>Avery compares your paper targets with laser precision, scanning each and every detail, perhaps hoping for any modicum of a miscalculation
>he might as well pull out an abacus with how hard he’s double-checking the math over there
>but once he’s satisfied, or perhaps dissatisfied, with his scorekeeping, he dejectedly sits back up
>“…Whatever, man. I’m still tired from studying last night, the sun was in my eyes, uh… it’s starting to get cold, so my dexterity is kinda off…”
>“dude, you are *literally* an arctic fox. what do you mean you’re getting co-”
>“Pack it up! We’re done for the day.” he announces with a spin of his finger
-> Part 3 <-
>the next day, you decide to invite Avery to lunch at the on-campus dining hall, your treat
>yes, you’re far more broke compared to him, but you feel bad how he’s always the one spending his money
>even if it’s just cafeteria pasta, you’d like to financially provide for the relationship in your own little ways
>he was fairly reluctant to accept, insisting that he at least pay for his half
>“oh, come on, it’s the least i can do after owning you so hard at the pistol range.”
>“Okay, you did not *own* me… I’m just rusty with that one.”
>“right, *rusty* is what we’ll call it…”
>”Look, did you invite me here for lunch, or just to press my buttons?”
>”both, really.”
>“I’m telling you, when you have access to the level of variety that I have, all the different perceived recoils… you can’t get used to any single one, not to mention th-”
>“alright, alright… c’mon, you know i’m just giving you a hard time. i know you’re a way better shot.”
>“Yeah, sorry… You did great. I should’ve congratulated you more properly, but… I think I’m just worried that I’m losing my edge.”
>“All this time I have to dedicate to these classes… I can’t fuck around at the old range like I used to. Big change for me, I guess.”
>his smile keeps up, but his eyes fall sullen as he admits his frustrations to you
>“hey, it’s very responsible of you to prioritize your classes. you’ve always been real smart with stuff like this. you’ll get back out there like you used to, i know it.”
>”...Thanks, man.”
>“...Oh, and, uh, sorry if I was a little impatient with you at the clays. I shouldn’t have rushed you through some of that stuff, like the training.”
>“naw, you’re good. it all ended up being useful advice, just… a tad overbearing.”
>“Yeah… gotta work on that.”
>”man, you’ve gotten too mopey all of the sudden. we gotta cheer you up. i got it.”
>you initially want to save the surprise for dessert, but it looks like he might like it right about now
>you produce from your backpack and slide across the table a king-sized bag of candy
>God knows how anyone could actually like this specific kind, but he always talks about it like it’s a precious godsend
>you finally found a little confectionary company within the state that sells it online, so naturally, you got a jumbo bag to gift him
>upon reading the label, his face brightens as brilliantly as string lights
>”Salted black licorice! You actually got it, and *it’s the good stuff!* Oh shit… Oh shit!”
>he doesn’t even try to hold back his newfound joy, queuing a nearby table or two to amusedly turn their heads to his excitement
>god, you fucking love him, no matter how embarrassing he can be
>”hah, how anyone could enjoy getting what’s essentially a gag gift is beyond me, but hey, as lo-”
>you’re cut off by his hands gingerly cupping the sides of your face, a devious glint in his eye
>one table’s eyes turn to shock
>oh fuck…
>”*Code 2, buddy*.” you discreetly whisper, reminding him he’s still in the public’s eye
>he freezes for a moment, his gaze suddenly blank
>”*U-Uh*… you had a… little something on your shirt there, friend.”
>he plays it off by moving his hands down to hastily readjust your shirt collar, plucking off an imaginary stray fiber
>once no one’s looking, he returns to his usual speaking
>”...Thank you. Really, it means a lot.”
>”of course, that’s all you. just, uh, don’t have too many at once.”
>you’ll never understand the appeal, but you suppose every college student has their quirky little pleasure
>”You sure you don’t wanna try one?” he offers
>”yeah, i’m good. i’m on a low-sodium diet, y'know.”
>”Pssh, how old.”
>you flick your eyes at him in an incredulous manner
>”*old*? you gotta be kidding. you’re the one going skeet shooting with your trusty ol’ over-under and eating fucking *black licorice*.”
>”But black licorice is so good, though.”
>”sure is, youngster” you reply in an exaggeratedly dry, wheezy voice. “right up there with my medicated cough drops.”
>”Whatever… you’re just in a button-pushing mood today. It won’t work on me.”
>“can’t help it… but i can cut the crap if it’s getting too annoying.”
>”You’re fine. Feel free to press away, actually. Consider it a reward.”
>”how kind of you… but i might’ve exhausted all my material already.”
>”Hmm, shame.” Avery spears into another tube of penne. “Perhaps we’ll raincheck it then.”
>your attentions are about to convert back to your meal, but suddenly, one final joke springs into mind
>“*althooouugh*, truth is, there's *one* button of yours i really like to press.”
>“Oh?” Avery replies, slightly confused
>you wordlessly explain by lightly curling and prodding the air with your index and middle finger, stimulating a non-existent prostate
>whenever you wanna get Avery going in the bedroom, you’ve found that a prostate massage is often all it takes for him to melt into your grasp
>Sometimes, he even busts right then and there, no further stimulation required
>you take great pride in your magic fingers, especially when he gets embarrassed from how good it feels
>you were expecting mild exasperation, a sigh, maybe an eye roll from him upon referencing it
>but instead, his gaze widens and a shaky smile begins to crack, his silverware nearly clattering next to his plate
>“*Wha*- d-don’t say that out here!” he quickly stammers out, trying to smother your hand with his own
>the sudden haste in his voice betrays his nervous excitement from your lewd gesture
>and unfortunately for him, you decide you very much like this response
>“hah, now *that’s* a target i always hit right on the money”
>your place your palms flat on the table, leaning in to whisper to him
>“and the results speak for themselves… last time, you came so hard you got it all over your pretty face.”
>“*Stoooop*.” Avery begs, hastily scanning account to see if anyone’s listening
>"alright, my bad… i just wonder what it feels like to be so subby you can get off entirely hands-free.”
>"Yeah, whatever, you dumbass.” he cuts back with, about to drop it, before suddenly freezing mid-bite
>with a now blank face, Avery quickly becomes lost in thought, his gaze pointed at the table’s center
>you’ve become familiar with this look of his… and it can only mean one thing: scheming is afoot
>it seems you gave him quite an idea… but what could it be?
>“...Actually…you really wanna know?”
>his eyes study your own for a moment, a confident gleam reappearing within them
>your confusion in the moment is further exacerbated when you feel a sudden light pressure tapping against your calf
>it rubs against you for just a moment, gently stroking along your lower leg, before snaking its way up to your right thigh
>“what, uh, exactly are you planning here?”
>“Shhh… don’t make it so obvious...”
>Avery suddenly scoots forward, slightly flinching from the chair scraping against the linoleum, before quickly regaining his composure
>with a hand now supporting his head, Avery makes a show of lazily gazing at you across the table, pretending to simply admire your features
>but once you feel an accompanying pressure plant itself directly on top of your crotch, you realize what’s going on here
>with both hands in plain sight, Avery is using his hind paws to tease you underneath the table, poking and prodding your groin to gauge your reaction
>“*Heheh*, you really shouldn’t have riled me up like that… cause *now* I’m gonna have to take it out on you.”
>after some fumbling, one of his claws is able to catch the loop of your jean’s zipper and lightly slide it down, the metal projections subtly yet audibly announcing your disrobing
>“so t-this is my punishment, huh? you’re just gonna try and jerk me off with your feet?”
>the idea just seems completely ridiculous to you, but Avery looks surprisingly determined
>“Yep.” he assures you, his paw pressing directly upon the tip of your still fabric-covered dick
>“Let’s see you call me subby after I make you cum from nothing but my footpaws.”
>uh oh
>this wasn’t exactly on your list of possible responses to some sexual teasing
>but despite his demeanor, you wonder if he really has what it takes to pull this off
>“*hah*, you know i’m not into paws like that, right?… you’re wasting your time.”
>“...Is that so? How unfortunate…”
>his other foot comes up to meet the base of your cock, the pads now cradling your shaft
>“I guess that means you *won’t* bust a fat fucking load under this table within the next 5 minutes, right?”
>fun fact you learned about Avery’s species: the soles of their paws are just as fuzzy and fluffy as the rest of their bodies
>for their feral counterparts, it helps them to stay warm in even the most frigid of conditions
>but for you, it means that his plush paw pads are accentuated by a layer of soft, silky smooth fur, providing a divine texture for his assault
>as he steps on your dick, his toes dexterously strumming along your cockhead, his other paw moves to grip onto the hem of your underwear and drag it down
>you aren’t prepared for how amazing it feels once bare contact is established
>his elegant paws are velvet upon your cock, working in tandem to nimbly stroke and massage you, sometimes alternating in movement, sometimes together
>it doesn’t take long for you reach full mast under him, his teasing caresses soon advancing into full-on masturbation
>he must have been practicing this or something… there’s no way it could feel so good by default
>as he continues to coyly enjoy his meal, his smugness near palpable, his pumping hastens alongside your arousal
>his paw pads grip through his dense fur alongside your shaft, the luscious friction akin to a satin vice
>this really shouldn’t be so effective on you
>realistically, you should be getting the equivalent of a clumsy handjob
>but God almighty, it feels anything but
>you’re absolutely going to blow your load if he keeps this up
>what you said was true, you really *don’t* have a paw fetish, but…
>his obvious enthusiasm, how hard he’s working to pleasure you, the technique and dexterity he’s clearly trying (and succeeding) to employ
>and the way his confident front occasionally cracks when his fur bristles and he nervously scans the hall to make sure the both of you haven’t been caught
>his excitement for the act is admittedly contagious, and you’re definitely feeling its effects
>your breathing becomes ragged, a bead of sweat previously unnoticed rolls down the side of your forehead
>oh god, at this rate, you only have a few more seconds until-
>“Getting close?” he purrs
>a half-suppressed grunt is all you can muster at the moment
>but it’s sufficient enough for him to get the message
>“Hey, Anon…”
>you summon all your remaining willpower to inconspicuously turn to him
>“...**Look into my eyes when you cum**.”
>and immediately lose it upon hearing his words
>you don’t even know how much you must have shot out, absolutely staining the poor underside of that table, alongside his paws, a pearly off-white
>all the while straining to meet your lover’s eyes as he looks on with a perverted grin
>seems you didn't realize how pent up you were with how hard you end up cumming
>in order to reduce any nearby suspicion, you sink your face into your hands as soon as you finish
>perhaps any passerbys will simply think you came down with a terrible headache
>”there…*hah*… satisfied now?”
>”*...A-A-Actually…*” he barely manages to stammer out, his built-up arousal now clearly having a potent hold on himself
>he sends a hand out of sight below, most likely caressing his own manhood
>”H-how about round 2 back at my place? After that...” His whisper turns hoarse as he leans in. “**I need you to fucking *demolish* me~**.”
>doesn’t seem like he’s interested in hearing a refusal, not like you were going to provide one
>but first, you have other matters to attend to
>“*h… how exactly* are we gonna clean this up?”
>“...Right… just sit tight for now, let me get some- ₒₕ ₛₕ₋”
>a panicked whimper unexpectedly escapes him, and you soon find out why
>“*Ohmygod*, Avery? Heeeyyy, it’s been so long!”
>a set of heels clack their way next to the both of you, the peppy girl who inhabits them now in serious danger of witnessing your under-the-table action
>in a panic, Avery attempts to hide your cock with his paw by pressing it flat against the seat of your chair
>as if seeing his foot right next to your crotch would be any less incriminating to her
>“Hey, Haley! *Wow*, look at you! *Loving* the outfit. The cherry earrings really pull it together.”
>his casual tone is surprisingly solid, betraying no hint of anxiety
>“I *know*, right?” She brings a hand up to show them off. “Veronica said they look tacky! I’m *so* gonna tell her you said that.”
>“Hah! Well, sorry I can’t stand up to greet you… I went snowboarding the other day and I actually twisted my ankle.”
>she gasps upon the news, and Avery shows off the paw not currently mounted on top of your dick
>“Yeah, thankfully, I didn’t get it too serious… it’s not all that swollen, doc said it’ll heal quickly, but it’s got a nasty sting when I try to put weight on it…”
>he turns to look at you, guiding her attention your way
>“My friend here has been a big help, fortunately. I kinda just lean on him when I need to. He’s a real trooper.”
>“...yeah… it’s no big deal. we all get a little carried away sometimes. just glad to help.”
>“*Awww*. You’re such a good friend. Oh!” She extends a hand. “Haley. I think I remember seeing you around.”
>“Anon. yeah… nice to meet you” you slightly fumble, trying to shift your angle to meet her handshake without revealing your predicament
>“Nice to meet you… Well, my class starts in 10 minutes, so, great to see you guys, but…”
>“Oh, yeah, totally! You’re all good. Hey, get that education, girl!”
>“You know it! Hope you recover well!”
>she struts her way out of the dining hall, and Avery quickly retracts himself from you
>“Heheh… old friend of mine, very sweet… uh, let me get those napkins.”
-> Part 4 <-
>well what a fucking wonderful day it was today
>your lab privileges, and probably your entire scholarship as well, are under critical review after almost blowing up the fucking building
>potential misuse of laboratory equipment is the official reason
>it was just a little bit of… innovative decision making
>some stuff you simply can’t replicate in some dingy back alley like you’re used to
>and yes, nickel hydrazine perchlorate isn‘t *exactly* on the university’s list of approved synthesizable chemicals
>but <1 g should’ve been totally manageable… should’ve been
>you hadn’t even disturbed it with a stirring rod, yet still, perhaps with some unseen jostle, it blew up right in your face
>nothing quite like a few high-velocity shards of glass impacting your safety goggles to wake you up in the morning, ey?
>thank God you weren’t *holding* the fucking thing
>your lab assistant, a skink anthro, had to pull you out of your shock and away from the blast zone
>you thought you came out relatively unscathed, but you were quickly shown the various bleeding lacerations you suffered across your face
>made you look like the victim of a serial killer
>the poor skink was clearly shaken up from the incident… you honestly felt a little sorry for him, even though he didn’t get injured himself
>what really felt awful, though, was telling Avery about it
>it got on your nerves how unexpectedly angry he became with you, calling you irresponsible and a clear endangerment
>you were about to become defensive… but his half-moon glare increasingly watering with a staunched flow of tears quickly softened you
>he said something to you while wiping his eyes… he might’ve forgotten about it already, but you certainly won’t
>“Don’t you know how hurt you could’ve gotten... how much you mean to me?”
>something about the way his voice betrayed no dramatics, that rhetorical question…
>it really sits with you
>fortunately, you each have a lull in your classes tomorrow, so he proposes a little outing to lift your spirits
>irritated as he is, he’s much more concerned with your well-being than anything
>the both of you eventually decide on a beach picnic at Twintide, a beautiful little shoreline only a couple hours away
>perhaps salt water isn’t the best environment for massive amounts of fur and healing wounds, but the undeniable call of the ocean sings to you
>besides, it can be difficult finding a day where rotten fish and putrefied jellyfish remains aren’t littering the sand there, so you best capitalize while the going’s good
>when you arrive, the place is a little more packed than you’d prefer, a variety of beachgoers enjoying a splendid day off of their own
>is it just paranoia to be worried about how exceedingly gay two men having a picnic together looks like?
>you hope so, for Avery has already spread the red checkered blanket upon the warm sand for the two of you
>he bought that blanket exclusively for picnic use too, the little diva
>out of the cooler comes a series of fanciful hors d'oeuvres, each one just as captivatingly foreign as the last
>“the fuck is this?” you question, holding up a mysteriously oily sausage
>the noticeable red stain where it contacted the board is admittedly a little discouraging
>“Chorizo, amigo. It’s Spanish, you’ll like it.”
>“uhh, i’ve *had* chorizo before, ***amigo***, and this ain’t it.”
>“You mean you’ve had *soft* chorizo before, you uncultured swine, but this is chorizo curado. You slice it thin, like salami.”
>he cuts you a narrow section before picking it up and lifting it to your face. “Try some.”
>from the angle he holds it at, along with that expectant look in his eyes, he clearly wants to hand-feed it to you
>“...i am *not* eating that shit out of your hand, bro.”
>he raises his eyebrows at you, attempting to call your bluff, but to no avail
>“Hmph.” He hesitates just a moment longer before tossing the tapa into his muzzle. “You’re no fun.”
>a particularly exuberant wave crashes against the shoreline, scattering some seagulls into the air
>“…Maybe, subconsciously, you already knew I was just gonna yank it away from you when you got close, huh?”
>“were you actually gonna?”
>“Yep.” He shoots you a smug look. “This was going in my mouth either way.”
>“hah, very funny… i would’ve just tongue wrestled you for it, then.”
>“O-oh really?” he fails to cooly reply. “Well, y’know, uh, you could still go for it if you wanted to.”
>“...really? thanks.”
>you fully intent to take him up on his offer, staring deep into his eyes as you slide a hand behind his head
>“Wait, wait, I was joking, *I WAS JOKING!*” he panics
>you amusedly halt your advances on the supremely flustered fox, holding back a grin
>“pah” you scoff. “you’re no fun.”
>“There’s *people* around, you idiot!” He swivels to check the area. “Just… wait until no one is looking, okay?”
>“**eeewww**, and wait for that to get all soggy in your mouth? hell no.”
>“No, you…” Avery starts to chastise before letting out a disappointed sigh
>“Here, I'll just cut you a piece for real this time…”
>“thank you, honeybun.”
>“Fuck off.”
>despite all your griping, you do end up finding the chorizo to your liking
>smoky, spicy, and beautifully aromatic, it’s a notable step above the tube of ground-up offal you typically get at the grocer’s
>but as enjoyable as good food and fine company can be, once the conversation slows, it leads to an idle mind
>and as the old saying goes, an idle mind is the devil’s workshop
>why the devil apparently uses this workshop to craft shitty video game concepts so often, you may never know
>but it seems he’s finally hit his mark today, as your thoughts shift to the gravity of your educational standing
>…what exactly is the procedure for handling obvious laboratory misconduct?
>how much leeway can they give for an incident like that?
>could there be some kind of “no tolerance” policy set in place for particularly dangerous behavior?
>you didn’t damage anything in the lab other than the beaker and its wire holder, so surely that could work to your benefit
>but still… the knowing synthesis of dangerous chemicals… could they place criminal charges on you?
>your mind continues to worm is way through the wretches of your doubts, methodically eating away at your will
>damn it... fucking damn it, how foolish you were to test your luck, even for-
>Avery turns his head slightly upward, his gaze prudent
>“...Mandatory direct supervision.”
>“...huh?”
>“Look, right here.” He shows you his phone, the format of what appears to be an email just barely legible behind the screen glare
>“Your professor said you can still use the lab, you just have to make sure he’s watching you, that’s all.”
>he holds the message eye-level for just a moment longer before nonchalantly setting it down beside the dish of patatas bravas
>“That should be it. Unless… nope, doesn’t look like it. Got off with a warning, essentially.”
>…you’re momentarily stunned… and fairly confused
>“how…did…”
>“I asked him to go easy on you. Sent him an email this morning saying how sorry you were, just got a little carried away, blah blah blah.”
>a thin can of italian limonata is gently sipped upon, momentarily pausing his words
>“I mean, all of that's true, isn’t it? You just needed someone to give him a little… outside perspective on it, really sell that you simply made some innocent mischief and learned your lesson.”
>your gaze is still blank
>“...How’d I know you were thinking about it? You mumble to yourself when you're worried about something, y’know. That’s actually what prompted me to check my phone.”
>a cheeky grin begins to escape him
>“Go ahead, sing my praises. Tell me how smart and thoughtful I am. Oh, and pretty, if you can work that one in.”
>you stare for just a moment longer before finding your will and wrapping him into the most sincere, appreciative hug you can manage
>some sand nestled in his fur nearly makes you sputter as your face makes contact, but you shift away in time before ruining the sendimentality of the moment
>takes more than that to stop your love
>“thank you. really, it means a lot.”
>“Of course… just don’t do that shit again. It took a lot of convincing to get you into this fucking place.“
>“i know. i just… i got too cocky. won’t happen again, simple as that.”
>“Be patient, my love… At any rate, we could totally make, like, a mini-lab for you once we get a house together.”
>“a hou- sweet jesus! …that’s a little far off, isn’t it?
>“I already have a few places I’m looking at… Say, what’s your opinion on bay windows?”
>“bay uh… oh, love ‘em, especially if they have some built-in seating, what with the little throw pillows…”
>“Ohmygod, *right*?”
>that unexpected good news did wonders for brightening up the rest of your day
>after you both ate your fill, you resolved to reward Avery for his efforts as best you could, astounding him with profound feats such as:
>showing off your gains from lifting crates of Mountain Dew at work (much to his mirth)
>landing flat on your face after attempting the world’s first standing backflip while on sand
>and of course, providing him a world-class back massage
>those are always fun when you have the time to work them in
>it's just as much therapeutic for you as it is for him
>both hearing and feeling him loosen up, cracking those little bubbles of tension, kneading those little knots of muscle along his lower neck lax
>he doesn’t realize it, but sometimes, when you *really* hit a nice spot, he quivers with a sharp exhale, gently mewling like a house cat
>…it wouldn't take much to escalate from there to more raunchy activities, at least in private
>but for now, you manage to behave yourself
>even if his choice of swimwear was making it particularly difficult
>he can’t get in the water due to his copious fur, so during beach outings, he typically elects to simply lie back and expose as much of himself as he can to the sun
>a brave stance for an arctic fox, and even braver for doing it in a particularly form-fitting pair of black swim briefs
>they make for a rather interesting discrepancy when he wears them: all that fluff that usually obscures his backside becomes compacted underneath the tight fabric
>the fog of war is lifted, and while the rest of his body’s outline is still obscured in a sea of puffy cloud…
>that ass is presented, almost highlighted, in all its glory, bubbly perfection in a smooth black matte
>the way it gently sways, leaning into the taut muscle you're working above it, as if yearning for your touch as well...
>your gaze turns to near hypnosis, transfixed to admire, perhaps reach a hand down, slide those silly little briefs down and-
>the vibration of a text message breaks you from your stupor
>ah, uh, right…
>seems it’s from your mother, wishing you well and asking if she could visit the both of you tomorrow
>she says she wanted Avery to feel accepted in the family, get to know him better, etc.
>in truth, though, she admits she also needs help with her laptop
>those dummies at the IT tech desk factory reset it, and now her settings are all out of wack
>oh boy, you get to be old lady tech support
>“hey, you up for visiting with my mom sometime tomorrow?”
>“Tomorrow? Ehhh… I kinda got a lab that needs to be done at 6, so maybe if we head out around-”
>“no no, we’re good, she's coming over to us.”
>“Oh? Oh, no, isn’t it a little mean to make her drive all that way?”
>“pssh, driving is in her blood. she always looks for an excuse to hit the road. didn’t you know that she's won… i think 7 different derby races?”
>“You’re fucking with me.”
>“swear to god, she’ll tell you all about it.”
>he gives a decent show of stretching out his back, a delicate *pop* audible, before sitting himself up
>“Aaaalright, sounds good then.” He makes to pack away the picnic, waving you over to help him with the plastic wrap
>“Shame though…” He draws an oversized piece from the spool. “The way you were eyeing me, I thought for sure you’d end up fucking me into the sand.”
>“...”
>“Kidding. You know I hate getting this shit into my fur.”
-> Part 5 <-
>as expected, your mother was horrendously embarrassing when it came to her curiosity with anthros
>”So what does that look like for you guys? Like, if you saw a fox, just a little fox in the woods, would that be sort of like us seeing a tiny person, like a gnome just-”
>“mom, enough, *please.*”
>“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend, really, I… you know, *all species matter* and I…”
>this is a fucking nightmare
>Avery looks caught somewhere between extensive awkwardness and desperately trying not to burst into laughter
>he's *for sure* going to tease you about this later
>”Oh, don’t worry, Ms. Mous. It’s alright. I'm actually glad you’d want to see things from my perspective.”
>”I don't know much, I'm afraid" she admits. "I just don’t want to step over any boundaries.”
>”Don’t worry, really… we’re not that different from regular humans. You know, mentally-wise, we’re one and the same.”
>”I know, honey. I’ve read the reports. It’s just… you know, it’s absolutely *silly* some of the things people say about anthros.”
>a short coughing fit interrupts her words for a moment, her previous habitual smoking audibly apparent in the hacking raspyness
>“There’s… There’s no *domestication* going on, that politician is out of his mind, and you guys don’t… wait, the forest *isn’t* sacred to you, right?”
>”mom!”
>”*Right*, right, sorry. I’ve… I’ve heard a lot of silliness myself, and I’m gonna try to unlearn all that nonsense.”
>she half-extends a finger to point at Avery
>”You’re the authority on who you are, so I’m gonna learn from you, and *only* you, okay? Believe me, I will be a very studious pupil.”
>”Uh… thank you, Ms Mous. I’ll do my best to be a good teacher for you then.”
>”You already are. You could probably show a thing or two to a lot of people. Oh, and that reminds me, honey…”
>she leans forward, eyes narrowing into a stern face
>”Listen… If anyone, and I mean *ANYONE*, for whatever reason, gives you a hard time for being with my son, you tell me straight away. I’ll-”
>Avery, quickly sensing her implication, puts his palm out to slow her roll, as if placating an ornery dog
>”Oh, uh, t-thank you, really, but we can take care of ourselves. I’d.. nobody will bring us any trouble that we can’t handle. Don’t worry about it.”
>”Oh, you're absolutely right. They won’t bring you any trouble. *I* will bring *their* trouble.”
>“...”
>she raises her bushy eyebrows
>“What? Don't think I could *dish out* something fierce if I wanted to? You just haven't seen me in action.”
>she turns her gaze to you with a look you’ve gotten all too familiar with during your childhood
>a request for you to go along with something stupid she just thought up of
>“Watch. I'll show you what three years of on-and-off Krav Maga training looks like.”
>the shuffling of chair legs upon carpet is your only warning before she sits up and, to your dismay, assumes the goofiest excuse of a fighting stance you’ve ever seen
>“Come on, Anon. Come at me. Try to get a hit in.”
>she waves you over with a single finger, mimicking a cheesy kung fu movie’s protagonist
>”...mom, i am not… i’m not *swinging* at you during a weekend visit with my boyfriend.”
>“*C’moon*, we’re just sparring. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of an old lady like me.”
>you give her the most deadpan expression you can muster, attempting to highlight her ridiculousness in the moment
>but she simply side glances to Avery with an amused smirk
>”See, honey, he won't do it because he knows what's gonna happen to him. Doesn’t wanna embarrass himself in front of you.”
>fucking Christ
>you’re fortunately able to avoid any deadly confrontations for the rest of her visit before seeing her out
>her purse is just as heavy and overfilled as you’ve always remembered… it felt nostalgic fetching it for her at the door
>”Okay, love you both. Please keep making good choices. You’re both *very* intelligent young men. That’s why you’ve made it so far. Keep it coming, alright?”
>”yeah, we got it. let me know if that laptop gives you issues again.”
>”Ugh, knowing this god damned thing, it’ll probably *explode* next week. But, hey, you know a lot about exploding things, right? Should be no problem for you.”
>she gives you a firm squeeze before turning to Avery
>”C’mere, honey, you get one too.”
>Avery clearly wasn't expecting this, but hesitates for only a second before returning the hug with surprising vigor
>”It was real nice meeting you.” She gently pats his back. “I can tell you're a good kid.”
>for just a miniscule moment, you think you see a wistful look on Avery's face before they release
>”Love you sweetie, take care now” she assures him, before hoisting up her purse and setting off in earnest
>”...she’s a little impulsive at times..” you admit once out of her earshot, “but she means well.”
>”Yeah” Avery agrees. “She seems nice. I, um… I hope she won't mind me calling her ‘Mom’ someday.”
>”oh, don't worry… she’d absolutely love that.”
***
>later that evening, Avery would hear back from one of his courses that he got an 86% for his midterm
>a semi-decent grade for any test, but since this was a rigorous, complex exam from his most difficult class, his score was actually pretty noteworthy
>it even merited cause to celebrate, if only just a little bit
>so Avery broke out one of his household’s finest bourbons he'd been saving for a sunny day for you two to sample
>a more distinguished taster of fine alcohol may have recognized notes of honey, charred oak, perhaps tobacco within it
>but for you two, you're just sipping and laughing, taking turns complaining about professors, the complexity of the liquor washing right by you
>...maybe it's a bit of a waste to drink it so casually, huh?
>but fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, it doesn't seem like they'll be much further indulgence of it
>Avery over here ***cannot*** handle his liquor, apparently
>how many sips… 3, 4?... before he's collapsed onto your lap, a fit of giggles, eyes half-lidded
>his head resting above your thigh, he’s too inebriated to sit up properly *and* comfortably, so he's seemingly chosen upon the latter
>you're only buzzed yourself, but figure that you’d best stop drinking to keep your mind sharp, stop him from doing anything silly if need be
>so you've settled for stealing his grooming brush, the nice bamboo one he keeps next to his bathtub, and gently skimming along his gorgeous fur
>he seems fairly well-groomed at the moment, but still, it's pretty therapeutic running the bristles along his thick pelt, detangling any minuscule clumps
>”how's this?” you ask, trying to keep your strokes smooth and flowing
>“Mmmm… purfect.” He shifts to meet your eyes. “Wan-... Wanna know sumthing? Yur the *first* person to ever brush me like this.”
>your drunk self refuses to hold back your skepticism, and you chuckle
>”that's *gotta* be a lie. you can’t tell me… like… didn't your dad teach you how to brush it or something?’
>”Psshhh, yeah, like, *once*, when I was 7 or sumthin. He barely even held the comb, though. He jus tol me what to do for the mos part.”
>”but he must’ve done it after your bath time or something, surely.”
>for some reason, you find it particularly difficult to believe that someone could resist pampering such a luscious coat for so long
>“Nuh-uhh, I always do it myself. It takes *soooo* fuckin long, like, *so* long.”
>he leans further into your touch
>“...but yer really gud at it. It feels, *heheh*, really nice…”
>his eyes delicately shut, a foolhardy smile clear upon his lips before slightly fading
>”The… the first time yu did it, I was jus, kinda… sitting on the couch, and you came up to me. Didn't say nothing, you jus… did it.”
>you pause a moment to pull out some accumulated fluff from the bristles
>”...You kno, alot of people tryta touch my fur withou asking. Pet me like a dog, that sorda thing.”
>“oh, uh… sorry. i didn't realize.”
>”No, I, um…” Avery's voice cracks. “It’s, w-when you did it, it wus like… it wasn't about the fur, the novelty, it was about *me*, it’s *me* that you like, an I…”
>as he speaks, his words highen in both pitch and clumsiness, nearly spilling out of him
>you halt your brushing for a moment to listen
>”I-I never… *felt* that kinda thing before, y’know? Like, somone stroking through my hair becus they love me, and, I duno, but…”
>he gestures vaguely at himself
>”When yur like this, people look at you… yeu’re either like a stuffed animul or a mutt. It’s jus… they don't take you sereous, like, being an athro is the *only* thing you are, nothin else.”
>...
>”Somone would only love me caus of what I look like, that’s… dat’s what I thought. I, I fuckin f-*fantacized* about being with somone who didn’t even care, and jus pet me an loved me like a normal human, and...”
>”I… I-I guess I never thoght I'd *ever* get to feel that, an for it to be real, bu… y-you…”
>he just barely maintains his composure, his breathing terse, trying his hardest to hold back the well
>he nearly makes it, too, ready to dismiss what he’s said as a simple drunken rant
>until he notices your hands cradling his head, delicately stroking along his scalp and rubbing the backs of his ears
>”of course. you deserve to be loved, Avery. no matter what.”
>with that simple statement, his blubbering finally devolves into demure sobbing, opting to smother his emerging tears and whimpers into your hoodie as he relents
>damn… he is fucking *saaaauced*, isn’t he?
>poor thing, but his confession is very sweet regardless
>he must've been holding onto these feelings for quite some time
>”I’m sory, I-I didn't mean to…”
>”oh, no, please… thank you for telling me this. i'm glad I can make you feel this way.”
>...once his crying fades and his breaths calm, an inevitable moment of awkward silence comes forth
>”...so, uh, is it alright if you could sit up for a sec so i can get your tail?”
>he hesitates a moment before fully processing your words, hastily righting himself
>”Oh, uh… y-yeah. My bad” he attempts to chuckle
>you give him some time to sober up within your arms, a pensive air still within the apartment and a big bundle of tail fluff in front of you to keep you preoccupied
>hmph… how many times, you wonder, have you needed to break out your drain auger due to the shedding produced by this single tail always clogging the damn shower?
>it will not get the opportunity to vex you *this time*, you villainously think to yourself, as you comb away the loose hairs
>a little while later, once Avery isn’t quite so mired within his stupor, he apparently realizes that a fluffy tail sitting right on your face might not feel too comfortable
>”Um, would you like me to move?”
>”nah, you’re fine.”
>regardless, he shuffles a bit to the side, not leaving your lap but still providing you some breathing room from his tail
>it was actually more of a relief than you expected
>”I… I don’t know what got over me, I-”
>”you tell me whatever you want, love, and i will listen. apologize for nothing.”
>he sighs, considering your words, and turns to you, longing in his gaze
>...throughout the years, you’ve learned a little something about optimal kissing strategies with Avery
>most notably, how to get that big schnoz of his out of the way
>you remember your first bumbling attempts at trying to surpass the obvious differences in anatomy
>oftentimes, you ended up nose-to-nose more so than mouth-to-mouth
>but after some workshopping here and there, you figured out that with his head slightly tilted and his snout angled upward, you had the most room to work with
>it also has the cute little quirk of Avery gently lifting his chin up whenever he wants to smooch, just like he is right now
>and of course, you plan to reciprocate
>you bring him into a tender embrace, lips intertwined, comforting and careful in your love
>...or at least, that’s how you intended for it to be, but Avery seems to have different plans
>you hadn’t realized he was still sitting on you until you felt a subtle grinding across your lap, clearly deliberate in nature
>”*ah*…y-you’re still a little drunk, love. i'm not sure if it’d be right to…”
>your worries are muffled as he pulls you deeper into the kiss
>”*Shhh…*” he hushes within your mouth, continuing to slowly gyrate his hips upon you. “Jus enjoy this…”
>it's tempting to simply accept this implied offer and see where the night leads you
>but while he may be adamant in quelling your concerns, the latent taste of alcohol on his breath is plenty convincing enough to dissuade you, and you pull away
>”babe, i really think you should get some rest...”
>”I’m fine, I swear… I’m still a lil tipsy, but that’s it.”
>”...and you’re sure that you’re level-headed?”
>”Yes, I’m alright… Watch, a steak dinner says my head game is still immaculate.”
>your cheeks puff out in a desperate bid to hold back your laughter upon hearing that sentence
>”bro, *what?*”
>”I’m serious!” He visibly pouts. “Look, if I get you to cum, you havta make me a ribeye tomorrow, *with* sides.”
>”Avery…” you attempt to reason, but to no avail
>”That’ll be what you get for doubting me” he chides, sliding off your lap to position himself in front of you on the carpet
>good grief... you hadn't even accepted the deal yet
>he admires his previous handiwork for a moment, a hand outlining your now prominent bulge
>”But hold on…” Avery suddenly realizes. “if you win the bet, what do you get?”
>”...babe, you’re literally about to suck my dick. i don’t think there’s a scenario here where i lose. let’s just leave it at this, huh?”
>”*Psh*, so be it. I’m gonna win anyway…”
>he continues pawing at your cock through your pants, his visibly fast-growing results boosting his confidence in his ability to get you hot and bothered
>“Getting fucking *haaaard?*” he teases a bit too bombastically for your liking
>“l-love, you're a little too loud. think of the people next door.”
>”Get ready… you're gonna be moaning my fuckin *name*, dude… all nite, *crying tears* cause it feels so good!”
>“*oh my*- Avery, i’m telling you, you gotta zip it…”
>“Huh? Zip it?… *Um*… oh wait, you're right, sorry… gotta unzip it first.”
>Avery, perhaps willfully mishearing you, turns his attention to fiddling with your zipper
>damn it, maybe he *is* still out of sorts
>nevertheless, he fishes out your pride and lets it bob and sway, the sight, while familiar to him, still bringing out an impressed whistle
>“*Damn*… you're so fuckin hot, dude… I love you so much…”
>as annoyed as you are, his unfeigned devotion is quick to subdue your irritation
>it may be a pain dealing with him while he’s like this, but you know it's worth it to see him content
>you sigh deeply and recollect yourself
>“...love you too.” you reply
>you reach out and pet him behind one of his big, fuzzy ears
>“just need to keep it down is all… can’t have anyone finding out, okay?”
>“Yeah, alriiight…” he yields
>down goes the jeans, the undergarments… as they hit the floor, it’s simply your erect manhood and the fox boy who dares to challenge it
>you’d like to think that you have a decent bit of willpower, that his affections will be too addled to bring you anywhere
>he’ll probably just wise up and quit after a few minutes once he makes no progress in getting you off
>Avery leans in, staring down your cannon, mere inches away from executing the act
>“...But yuknow… maybe I don’t wanna rush things…”
>he suddenly rests his chin on your belly
>“Maybe I need a little *encouragement* first…”
>He daintily looks up at you, executing a lazy attempt at puppy eyes
>Christ... he can be real grating when he’s inebriated
>but he seems to be getting a kick out of this, and over the years, you've grown to find his occasional brattiness somewhat endearing
>so you’ll play along, *just* once more
>“alright, fine. we can do that. whaddya have in mind?”
>“Mmmm… gimme another kissy.”
>you involuntary cringe at his baby talk
>“...no.”
>he looks you dead in the eyes, trying his best to put on an authoritative air
>“Give me. A *kissy*.” he demands, threateningly lifting his chin
>you hesitate for just a moment longer, making a show of rolling your eyes before gently leaning in and planting your lips right on his furry forehead
>his surprise and irritation is immediate, apparently upset that you decided against his lips
>”The fuck?”
>”what? i did what you asked. never said where you wanted it, man.”
>”*Oh*… think you’re funny?” he growls, more intimidating than you expected. “Fine. I'm sucking your soul out for that one.”
>hah, yeah, as if- *woah, w-what the hell!?*
>Avery, in an unexpected surge of passion, uses both arms to hook across the back of your knees and lift your legs away from your crotch
>you're forced to lean back into the sofa, your sense of balance now entirely within his grasp
>with full leverage, he dives his head straight into your cock, smashing his nose against your junk, savagely and unashamedly sniffing across you
>probing and pressing, he rubs his face across your entire crotch like a predator masking its scent before the hunt
>the more he smells from you, your pent-up horniness from his previous teasing a musky cocktail to his nose, the deeper and more demanding his huffing becomes
>eventually, he resorts to sticking his snout directly under the base of your shaft, where your scent is strongest, and deeply inhaling as much of your essence as possible, your dick flopped onto his face all the while
>this assault, as unorthodox as it is, easily pitches you back to rock hardness in no time
>but this doesn't seem to be for your particular benefit
>no… he's doing this for *him*
>like some animalistic mating ritual, he's getting himself as riled up and lust-drunk on your scent as he possibly can
>you can see it in his beaded eyes, the drool beginning to roll out the edge of his mouth, his rapidly emerging cherry-pink shaft poking out from his waistband and already dripping with excitement
>a rumbling murr gives a further visceral indication of his arousal, something feral unleashing within himself
>you wonder what’s more intoxicating for him at this point: the luxury bourbon, or your body’s natural spice
>once he's had his fill, he opens up and gives your manhood a long, thorough lick, from base to tip, slowly savoring each and every inch
>then again... and again... then at a steady rhythm, growing further infatuated with your prick every second
>if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was a servant worshiping his god with how fervently he’s tasting you, lavishing his idol with raw, unrestrained zeal
>this… this isn’t going well
>he hasn't even properly started yet, and you're already leaking like a fucking faucet
>neither of you have gotten busy with each other in a while, admittedly
>several late-night study sessions admonished the two of you against any distracting activities these past two weeks
>but in this moment, right here, the pent up lust between you two is now being carnally uncorked
>that hot breath washing over your cock, combined with the sloppiness of his prodical slurping, is becoming too much to bear
>you’ve resorted to gripping the sides of the armrests in a desperate bid to restrain yourself from grabbing the back of his head and just fucking going to *town*
>you… *oh god*, you underestimated him
>you’re near seconds away from *begging* him to put it in his mouth before one final lick, lapping up the prespunk and spiddle dribbling along your prick, is quickly transitioned into wrapping you in his muzzle and engulfing you in one go
>he gives you no time to adjust, immediately performing at his maximum efficiency
>his long canid tongue snakes down the entirety of your length, traveling all the way to your balls to give them a mini tongue-washing with the tip…
>while the rest curls along the underside of your shaft to add a second layer of warm, moist friction within his mouth
>his pace is already breakneck, his determination keeping him from slowing down for even a second
>he pistons you down his throat with ease, his gag reflex seemingly absent, wrapping your dick in an all-encompassing warmth and squeezing tightness
>it's… *t-too fucking much*…
>you try asking him to slow down, to give you some respite, but your will crumbles so swiftly under the influence of his unsparing dick-sucking, that all you can muster is calling out his name
>”*Av- Avery, A**AAv-**...*”
>no… you don’t stand a chance
>you never could’ve *hoped* to stand a chance
>forget keeping your voice down, you were already long past that the first few seconds he started pumping your length with his muzzle
>you’re just trying not to *scream* at this point, the pleasure so powerful, so overwhelmingly obscene that you’re practically *melting* inside of his mouth
>the neighbors are probably hearing every gasp, every involuntary groan and boisterous yelp you’re uttering at this point… **fuck em**
>fuck the whole damn neighborhood if they’d so *dare* as to try and take this from you
>you barely even felt your peak approaching, the pulsing of your shaft so sudden you didn’t have time to recognize it
>eyes watering, toes curling, mind congealing into mush, you almost pass out from the force of firing off your load into his waiting gullet
>his long muzzle had no issues taking your entire dick before, nor does it falter now when receiving your fat, sticky, unbridled fountain of cum, visibly gulping down your overdue love with ease
>in fact, much to your dismay, as you continue to spurt down his throat, he’s *still* sucking and suctioning your cock for everything he can possibly still milk
>even when you’re orgasm subsides, even when your sensitive cockhead starts to tingle and sting from the ongoing stimulation, he keeps his ceaseless tempo like a well-oiled machine
>it almost starts to *hurt* your poor aching cock until he finally relinquishes you, his tongue pushing out your dick like a barkeep tossing a belligerent drunk to the sidewalk
>”*Pwaahhh*, haha!”
>*h*…how long did you even last? a minute, maybe?
>you don’t think you’ve *ever* gotten top that crazy from him before
>you just want to lie down for a spell and process what the fuck just happened, but it doesn’t look like he’s fully satiated yet
>a predatory growl still radiates from him as he crawls atop you with the grace and agility of a seasoned street cat
>he presses his body against you, forms intermingling, six and a half inches of *raging* vulpine excitement now nestled between your bellies
>but all the while, he simply cuddles with you, slightly shivering with desire, his tail intensely wagging behind him
>his bestial instincts must be *coursing* through him right now, demanding satiation
>rutting along your thigh, biting your neck, gripping onto you to garnish as much friction and skin-to-fur contact as possible, *anything*
>but instead of giving into temptation, he waits… staring into your eyes, he dutifully waits for you to tell him how he’s getting off tonight
>funny how his arousal works… so commandeering at first, but once it’s worked out of his system, he turns completely obedient and submissive
>”*ah, hah… t*-turn around” you request
>despite his hormones rampant and your intentions unknown, he complies, shifting himself to a position similar to how this all started, his tail in your face, ass on your lap
>he may have won this round, fine, but you aren’t going down without at least making *him* squeal too
>”come here” is his only warning before you drag him down into spooning position, a cramped fit on the couch, and getting a firm grip on his throbbing meat
>like an overfilled spray bottle, his cock spurts a fine jet of pre upon your initial touch
>his girlish cry and involuntary buck into your hand tell you he won’t last too long either
>but unlike him, who worked so swiftly and diligently to get you off, your strokes are lazy and predictable, extending his red-hot arousal as he twitches and fidgets in your arms
>you *really* want to work him up for this...
>you've always wanted to try something, and now's the perfect opportunity
>but in order for it to work, your half-hard shaft will have to reluctantly comply for one last hurrah
>godspeed, soldier, you think to yourself before sliding your cock in between Avery’s plush, supple thighs
>”get ready” you whisper into his ear. “i wanna feel *each* and *every* throb you make. don’t hold back.”
>he shakily nods his head as you begin masturbating him in earnest, his mini-edging session quickly making way for the finale
>each shallow hump and thrust he makes into your grasp slides his furry thighs up and down your length
>every little bounce his cute, bubbly ass makes against your waist becomes more and more forceful as he wildly fucks your hand
>he's got mere seconds left, you can feel it
>and you've got a pretty good idea as to what would really set him off
>so… you set it in motion
>the first part of the equation you've already gotten down to a T
>you slip your hand down, grip him a wine glass hold right below the knot, and gently press down with the base of your thumb, simulating a tie
>this is essentially the cheat code for finishing him off, and you've known this since the first time you two made love
>however, to make things more exciting, you add in a little unexpected factor
>you lean in, tilt his head to the side, and give him a nibble right behind the sensitive crook of his neck
>*chomp~*
>“*Hhrrgr**RRrhhrr!***”
>Avery's announcement of utter bliss comes not as a cry, but as a choked warble
>you feel the aggressive spasms from his shaft, the pulsing of his knot as he erupts in your hand
>you hear the audible *plips* of his high-velocity cumshots impacting and splattering across the chenille fabric
>but most of all, the grand prize of your experiment, and just as you predicted…
>you experience the intense, rolling vibrations of his quivering legs, the euphoria-fueled jitters rumbling his fluffy thighs along your prick like a mechanical fleshlight
>the instinctual mid-orgasm squeezing of his legs gives your dick no room to escape, trapped in a resonating sea of thigh fluff, as he continues to tremble in ecstasy
>the sensation is phenomenal, of course, but it’s more so the *concept* of it, the idea of his body innately rewarding you for your efforts, that rocks you into your second climax
>being so thoroughly drained from the recent blowjob, you’re reduced to spurting mere rivulets of spunk along his inner thigh
>you can feel your balls working overtime to force out at least a *little* something, if just to save you from humiliation
>until that too abates, leaving you both absolutely spent and satisfied
>your breathing is sharp and ragged, Avery himself is panting up a storm, your dick feels like it's fucking bruised, and the couch now *reeks* of potent sex
>but you only voice a single concern once you’re able to catch your breath
>”*what, hah*… exactly… *whew*… did you want… to go with your steak?”