The Shallow End
"The Shallow End"
by K.M. Hirosaki ([email protected])
I could tell that Lyle was gay the first time I saw him. Not just kind of gay or a little gay, either--I'm talking, like, full-on gay. People always like to joke about how us rabbits have better gaydar than other folks (got to do with the ears, they say). Good gaydar wasn't necessary, though. I don't care what you try to tell me: if you've got a pierced tongue and a name like 'Lyle,' you suck cock. That's just the way it goes; you don't really get a choice in the matter.
If Lyle had had a choice, though, I'm willing to bet that he still would've chosen that walk in life. In addition to the pierced tongue, the skunk also had a piercing through his right eyebrow, two in his right ear, and a labret to finish it off. My guess was that he had at least one or two other piercings that a curious individual couldn't see at first look, but I didn't drop by the coffee shop to ogle Lyle--I went there for coffee. Ogling Lyle came a little later.
Yeah, he worked in a coffee shop. Fascination Street Café and Roasting Company, they call themselves. Like I said, pegging Lyle's sexual orientation wasn't exactly difficult.
Fascination Street was like any typical fancy-schmancy coffee shop in the Santa Zorrita area. It set itself apart from the corporate conglomerate uber-and-ever-present chain coffee places by having comfy chairs and couches instead and by allowing its baristas to deck themselves out with piercings aplenty. It wasn't any cheaper than the generic stuff, of course, but I challenge you to get coffee anywhere in Santa Zorrita or Edgemont or the city for under three bucks.
And yes, since I know you're thinking it, I am one of those folks who spends that three bucks once (sometimes twice) a day in order to get my fix. That's just how society works now, though. The world has told me that I need my latte, and I choose to believe it.
At any rate, Fascination Street used to be my morning ritual: I'd hit it up on my drive to work, before trekking up into the city, and I'd invariably polish off my drink before I even got to my office. Once every couple of weeks or so, if I got out of work early, I'd sometimes stop by in the afternoon, too, still in my shirt and tie, and take a seat so I could sit and enjoy myself a little better.
That's really how I got hooked on the place. I mean, as good as the coffee itself was, the atmosphere was just that much better. Besides, it was kind of nice knowing that I had a cute gay boy making my coffee (well, more often that not, at any rate). I'd sit and drink my latte nice and slow, and I'd read whatever book I was reading or maybe just a little bit of the newspaper, and then I'd go home and boil some pasta and dump a jar of sauce on it. Unless it was Thursday, because that was karaoke night back then, and I'd usually go straight home in order to get ready.
I remember Lyle having worked at Fascination Street way back when: skunks don't usually catch my attention, and piercings usually turn me off, but something about his flamboyance made him a little more memorable. And hey, he was cute, and he pulled a good shot of espresso.
Lyle didn't take notice of me, though--not back then. It wasn't until I ditched my customer support job up in the city for a web development position down in Santa Zorrita that I think I managed to catch the skunk's interest--or, to be more frank, that I started to ping on his gaydar. See, the job I got was at one of those more progressive companies (you know, the kind that've sprung up all over Santa Zorrita and Lobo Moreno over the last few years), and so I was able to ditch the shirt and tie for the more laid back and casual thing that techies are allowed nowadays. Plus, since I didn't need to commute back from the city anymore, I spent a lot more afternoons down at Fascination Street, too.
For the first couple of weeks at my new job, though, I didn't run into Lyle. He usually worked the afternoon shift, and so I was surprised when I kept dropping by for my latte, only to have Irene make it (Irene's this genet girl, and while she's definitely still a good barista, she's not as fun to look at). Had Lyle, too, gotten a new job? I was content to wonder for a while, but after a week and a half, my curiosity got the better of me, so I had to ask.
He was out of town, was what Irene told me. She shot me this knowing look after she answered me, too. I kicked myself for that, then I kicked myself even more the next day, because Lyle was back, then, and I knew that if I had just held out for one more day, I wouldn't have embarrassed myself like that.
When he first saw me, he whistled at me as he gave me the once over. "Well, well, look at you!" he chirped. "Are they doing Casual Friday early this week?" It was Thursday, by the way, I should probably mention.
"Nah," I replied, looking down pointedly at my bright blue polo shirt. I at least still had slacks on. "I think this is too casual even for that."
"New job?" the skunk asked, leaning over the counter. I nodded. "Yeah, you're a little earlier than usual, too, aren't you?" he asked. "Anyway, can I get you the usual?"
With my nonfat latte in paw, I took a seat in the corner of my favorite couch. You have no idea how cozy this thing is. Like I said, I didn't usually come by on Thursdays, so I didn't know if someone else would have their butt parked in it, so I was probably a little giddy when I realized I got to be the one to lay claim.
And that was that. I drank my coffee, I read some more of my book, and then I headed out to karaoke. I decided not to get changed before going; I thought that, heck, other guys didn't take a whole lot of notice of me anyway, so maybe something a little sportier might let me garner some more attention. This one fox did buy me a drink, and I got his phone number even though I was pretty sure I wouldn't call him. The real highlight of my evening was when I did my rendition of Sundance Valero's "If Only This." Sundance is a baritone, I know, and I'm a tenor (a high tenor, even), but I think I do a good job with that song. It gets me a bit more than the standard applause of acknowledgment, at any rate.
Anyway, Friday I was busy, but Saturday I managed to get back down to Fascination Street because I didn't have anything better to do and I was fixing to get some reading done, and I knew that I stayed home I'd squander all my time on the computer. I was kind of surprised to see Lyle working there, though I'm not sure why, in retrospect. He asked me if I was going with the usual again, but I counter-surprised him by asking for a mocha (still nonfat, of course) and--to treat myself because I'd been to the gym that morning--a sliver of carrot cake.
The carrot cake was that really rich sort where I could literally taste all of the fat that I'd so carefully avoided in ordering my mocha. I didn't mind too much, though; I just made a mental note to eat a little less at dinner. So I just sat down, found my happy couch corner, and set up shop.
About twenty minutes and twenty or so pages into my book later, the couch shook as someone slumped down into the seat next to me. It was Lyle, and again I don't know why I was surprised.
"So," he said, with this big smile on his face. "I heard you were asking about me." My ears must have gone red at that point, because he let out this quick laugh that let me see his tongue piercing, and he quickly said, "Oh, don't worry about it. I think it's sweet."
"I was just curious," I replied. "I hadn't seen you in a while."
That smile of his returned. "'Curious,'" he repeated, and then he clicked his tongue. As if he was starting the conversation all over again from the beginning, he then said, "So, how are you liking your new job?"
"It's pretty good," I said, and my smile was an honest one. "I mean, I just started, but so far, it's going well."
"Does it pay better than your old job?" Lyle asked.
"A little. I save more, though, since I don't need to haul myself up to the city every day, now."
Lyle's smile got more subtle and his interested in the conversation suddenly seemed a lot more sincere. "Do you live here in Santa Zorrita, then?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said, taking a sip of my latte. "All my life."
"Ooh! You're one of that rare breed of people that's actually from here!" the skunk cooed.
I had to laugh at that. "You're not, then, I take it?"
"Nope," he replied, shaking his head. "Just been out here a few years. It feels like home, now, though." As if realizing he left too much of a pause, there, he quickly followed up with, "So, where do you hang out, anyway?"
"Hang out?" I asked. Only a few years shy of the big three-oh, I was amused that someone would ask me where I 'hung out.' It was cute.
Lyle wasn't exactly a kid, though, and he poked me on the shoulder. "Come on, you know what I mean!" he said. "I know you don't spend all your time here."
"I don't know," I offered, not to be a dick or anything, but just because I didn't have any answer. "I guess I do a lot of different things when I've got the time." Then, knowing that Lyle was trying to keep himself in control of the conversation, I jumped on my own pause. "Why, where do you hang out?"
Another more knowing grin took over the expression on Lyle's face. "Well, I was going to probably go to Roxie's tonight, for instance," he said--Roxie's being a gay club over in Lobo Moreno, and the way the skunk locked his eyes on mine, I could tell that he was looking for a sign that I recognized the name.
Of course, since I did recognize the name, I couldn't just make myself look like I didn't--not when he was looking right at me.
"Have you ever been there?" he asked.
There was no point hiding information that he clearly already knew. "A few times," I admitted. "I kind of prefer Queen of Spades, myself."
"Oh, so you're a karaoke queen!" the skunk chuckled, clapping his paws happily. "See, I knew that there was someone with a personality just waiting to bust out of that shirt-and-tie getup," he said, and then he started to get up.
"Hey," I protested through my own smile. "The shirt and the tie are gone, now, remember?"
He gave me a coyly regarding glance as he walked along behind the couch. "I always did think that long ears worked better with short sleeves," he said.
After that, he went back behind the counter. The late afternoon crowd came in and got settled. I stayed for a little while longer with my book, and I didn't quite finish the carrot cake. I didn't say goodbye to Lyle, either, but we did exchange waves as I left.
I should probably point out, here, that I'd broken up with my last boyfriend over two years go, at this point. It wasn't a messy breakup or anything--we hadn't even been living together--but I'd been living the single life ever since then and I hadn't really taken any steps to change that.
Actually, that's kind of the funny thing. You'd figure that going two years without regularly getting any would drive you crazy, but it doesn't. It's kind of like eating, in way--where if you go long enough without food you eventually stop realizing how hungry you are, you know? I mean, it wasn't like I was in the midst of a two-year drought, though, either, because there was at least still the occasional romp that I got to indulge myself in, but those were few and far between and they involved friends who were either in open relationships or just really casual about sex. You'd figure that it'd be easier to get laid under those circumstances, but the planets just never seemed to align right when it came to that. Or maybe I just wasn't trying hard enough.
So I wasn't suddenly thinking of Lyle as a potential dating prospect; it was only with changing jobs that I even had enough free time to consider dating anyway, and just because the kid who made your coffee happened to be into guys didn't mean he wanted you to buy him dinner. Besides, the thing that Lyle always did with his tongue always made me imagine that he was quite possibly a huge cocktease.
The rest of the weekend passed without incident, really. I couldn't tell whether Monday was a typical Monday at work or not, because I was still new, but it wasn't too bad of a day, at any rate. I swung by Fascination Street on my way home, ordered my latte from Irene, and sat down to start reading a new book, since I'd finished my previous one on Sunday.
I hadn't seen Lyle when I'd entered--he might've been out back roasting or something, I'm not sure. Anyhow, he was there, and when he got back from wherever, he sat himself down next to me again (I hadn't gotten my favorite corner, sadly), and he jabbed me in the side.
"You didn't show up!" he said. I think he was teasing.
I looked back at him. "Didn't show up where?" I asked.
"At Roxie's on Saturday night!" He had this big smile on his face, and I couldn't tell whether he'd actually expected me to show up there or whether he'd just been hoping it.
"Oh," I said. "I didn't realize I'd been invited."
"Hey, that's not my fault," the skunk said, looking away in a show of theatrics that made me smile. "I can't be held responsible if you don't know how to read between the lines."
I shifted in my seat and squared my shoulders. "Well, if I'd known to look, I'm sure I would have read things just fine."
Lyle turned just so that he was using one eye to look back at me. "Oh, you'd been looking," he said, and he clicked his tongue piercing against his teeth before turning to face me full-on again. Then he leaned in closer to one of my ears, and he said in a quieter voice that still wasn't quite a whisper, "I was hoping you'd come."
He acknowledged my momentary flustered expression with a smirk, and then he said, "Still, just to ensure that there are no snafus this time around, I'll just ask you to swing by here after I'm done with work."
I was both surprised and somewhat turned on by his forwardness. "Um, all right," I applied, a chuckle slipping out even though I didn't want it to. "What time do you get off?"
"Oh, no," he said, clicking his tongue, "I'm not walking into that one. Remember, I'm not the one who's oblivious." He poked me in the ribs again. "Come by at ten," he said.
It was then that I giggled. I have no idea why I did, but it was probably just because of the ridiculousness of the situation and my own state of tension. Lyle took the opportunity to flash me a smug smile, and then he stood up from the couch. I looked back up at him, regained my composure, cleared my throat, and said, "Ten o'clock, huh? Sure, I can do that."
Lyle left without another word and went back behind the counter. I went back to trying to read my book, but I couldn't really concentrate, so I ended up leaving pretty much right after I was done with my drink.
I went home, heated up some dinner, puttered around on the computer for a bit, and then, after some minor waffling, headed back over to the coffee shop.
It was around quarter till when I got there. There were some late-night stragglers, more than I'd been expecting to see, including a wolf and a badger who were sitting where they'd been back when I left earlier. Irene and Lyle were both still there, too, as well as one of the other baristas who was out-of-uniform--a younger jackal whose name I'd never actually gotten.
Even though there were almost as many people as there were during the mornings and early evenings, the scent of coffee was somehow stronger than it usually was. Or maybe I was just imagining that.
Since I was just there to meet Lyle, I made eye contact, gave him a nod, and then sat down in one of the chairs and just... waited, because I didn't really know what else to do. The skunk swung out from behind the counter a minute or so later and came up to where I was sitting, a mug held in both paws.
"Here," he said, giving it to me. "On the house."
I took the mug from him and then titled my head a little. "Oh, I shouldn't. I do still have to work in the morning."
The skunk laughed through his nose. "It's not even ten o'clock yet. You'll be fine." Without waiting for further protest on my part, he walked away again.
So, I slowly sipped at the latte he'd left me; judging from what Lyle had said, I guessed he hadn't secretly slipped me decaf or something. It was good, though. I don't usually drink coffee at night.
At a few minutes to ten, Lyle called out to the crowd, announcing that the shop would be closing and that we all needed to wrap things up and get on our merry ways. After saying so, he caught my attention from behind the bar and made a hand gesture that plainly indicated that I was excluded from this. The minutes ticked by, the crowd dispersed bit by bit, and then Lyle locked the front doors once it was down to just the baristas, myself, and my half-finished latte.
Sitting there after everyone had left was very awkward, because I kept expecting Irene or the jackal to look up and give me some weird look, wondering why I was still sitting there. I guess that Lyle must have told them, though, because neither of them took any notice of me at all. That actually kind of made it a little bit more uncomfortable, though.
It was Lyle who came out, eventually, to make a swing through the seating area. He smiled at me as he went around wiping down tables and picking up used ceramic mugs. After ferrying back the dishes that needed to be washed, he came back up over to me and sat next to me, and he just sat there, looking at me.
I managed a quirky smile that lasted through a few seconds of silence, but I finally cracked and had to ask, "What?"
"Hi!" he chirped, batting his eyes at me, drawing attention to the stud in his right eyebrow. "Did you have a good evening, I hope?"
"It went okay, I guess," I said. "So, then, what's all this about?"
"I wanted to see you," the skunk said. He pushed himself to the edge of his chair so that there was more room for his big tail (to this day, I still have no idea how the long-tailed species manage). "And you're here, so I'm guessing you wanted to see me, too."
Because of the way he'd phrased that, I couldn't come up with a denial. "Well, I mean, you did ask," I said.
"And you accepted." He tapped one of his feet against my own. "And I have to admit that I almost thought you'd pull another no-show."
"That first one doesn't count," I protested. By now I was feeling less nervous, and the only explanation I have for that is that Lyle was just good at using playful banter to make things feel more comfortable and intimate.
The skunk nodded. "Fair enough, fair enough," he said. "I won't hold it against you. It's really too bad you weren't there, though."
"Yeah? Did you have a good time, then?"
"Decent enough," he said. "Did some drinking; did some dancing. Ended up making out with some cute fox."
The mental image of this young skunk, with his metal-laden face reflecting multicolored club lighting as he locked muzzles with some twinky vulpine, made me daydream for a few seconds. "Yeah? How was that?" I asked with a big grin.
Lyle grinned back, but then he just shrugged. "Ah, it was okay, I guess," he said. "It didn't really go anywhere. I think he was hoping for more; he gave me his number and all, but he wasn't really my type, so..." After letting his voice trail off, he showed a few teeth in his smile.
"So, just the one fox?" I asked.
The skunk preened. "What are you implying? That's I'm a hot little number and you're surprised that I'd be able to go to a club without having three or four or five guys all over me all night long?"
"I was going to stop at four, but five works, too," I said with a wink.
"Ah. Well, five is very rare," Lyle said. "And anywhere, you're the only guy here, now, so you don't need to worry about the competition."
"Competition, huh? I didn't realize I was in the running."
Lyle shook his head as he smirked again. "Yeah, you don't realize a lot of things, as we've already established," he said. He put his paw on my knee as he stood up. "Anyhow, just sit tight for a few more minutes and then I'll be right with you."
I allowed myself to stare at his tail and his butt as he walked away.
My guess is that Irene and the jackal left through some back entrance or whatever. All I know is that when Lyle came back a few minutes later, he had this huge grin on his face. He stayed behind the counter, though, and took his time, watching me, letting me watch back and wonder, because--true to what I'd imagined--he was a little tease.
After decided I'd stewed enough, I'm guessing, he called out, "Hey, come on up here, silly! I want to show you something." They way he said it was so ambiguous and hard to peg that I wondered whether he was referring to the espresso machine or his dick.
As it turned out, it was neither. When I walked up to the counter, he motioned for me to join him behind it, and then he reached down underneath and pulled out a bag of coffee beans. "Here," he said, handing it to me. "This is for you."
The bag itself was marked only with a 'Fascination Street Café and Roasting Company' sticker. "What's in it?" I asked.
"It's coffee," Lyle said with a laugh. "What do you think it is?"
"I can tell that." I shook the bag a little. "What's the occasion, though?"
The skunk rolled his eyes. "I just thought you might like to have it," he said. "We didn't get much of that batch in, and so I set aside a pound for you because I figured you'd like it." He nodded down to the bag in my paws. "Oh, and I gave you whole beans, because I'm assuming that a self-respecting coffee drinker like yourself grinds your own beans at home."
"And what if I said I didn't?" I replied, winking.
"Well, then I'd have to ask you to give those back to me so I could give them to someone who'd really appreciate them," Lyle said, and as he did so, he slipped a little bit closer to me.
As I looked down into his face, it was as if I could see the movement he was about to make. I set the bag of coffee beans back down on the counter, and just as I did, the skunk leaned up to kiss me, and I let him. Being a little bit shorter than me, he put his paws on my shoulders and pulled himself up, and I, in turn, ducked down a bit in order to meet him.
His mouth tasted like the coffee he served, and his scent was a splendid mix of his own fur and the thick aroma of espresso that clung to it. I lost my footing for a moment and quickly regained it by bracing one of my paws against the counter, but Lyle just moved with me, deft and agile even in the moment. He pressed more firmly into the kiss, and in the next moment, I parted my lips for him, feeling and hearing his tongue piercing click against my teeth on the way in.
Both of Lyle's paws spilled their way down from my shoulders down to my hips, his fingers squeezing and tensing along the way. When he finally did reach my hips, he pulled back out of the kiss, and then chuckled. "You know, you might want to consider getting your lattes with whole milk for a while," he said, voice hushed even though we were alone. "You could stand to use a little more meat on your bones."
"You're one to talk," I retorted, brushing the back of one paw over his stomach, which, even through the multiple layers of fabric of his shirt and apron, was noticeably lacking.
"Whole milk is good for you," Lyle said, still clinging to my hips. "It tastes better, too." Without waiting for further reply, he kissed me again.
This time, the kiss was over a lot sooner. "Hey, would you mind giving me a ride home?" he asked me.
"I think I could manage that," I replied, already thinking of what positions the two of us might end up in once we got there. A number of possibilities went through my mind, none of them unpleasant; when it came to this kid, I wasn't picky.
I started to turn around, but Lyle tugged me back into place. "Not right this second," he said, grinning up at me. "I'm in no rush." Saying that, one of his paws found its way between my legs. I wasn't totally hard yet, but with the kissing and the mental imagery I'd been indulging in, there was at least enough there for him to work with.
A quiet groan began to escape my lips before Lyle silenced it with a third kiss. The moan receded back into my throat and I leaned myself against him, and so he decided to bear more of my weight with his palm. My own palm, pressed against the counter as it was, started to slip a little, but Lyle didn't seem too concerned, and that didn't surprise me.
"I thought that after getting your new job you wouldn't be so uptight," the skunk whispered to me, pulling back just long enough to say that, before sealing his lips back against my own, killing any chance I had at a comeback. In my defense, I didn't think I was all that uptight at the moment, and Lyle didn't have far to go to get rid of whatever did remain of my inhibitions. Really, the only thing inhibiting me at the moment were my slacks, and I knew that I didn't need to worry about Lyle making short work of those, either.
Although I was fully expecting Lyle to start undoing my pants, when he actually started to, it still made me shiver nervously. The paw I was using to brace myself slipped further down the counter and smacked right into the big, heavy glass jar of biscotti, knocking it clear off the counter. With reflexes that a rabbit like myself could hardly hope for, Lyle turned and ducked down, falling into a neat squat, catching the jar in both arms before it could hit the ground. He looked up at me with disbelief in his eyes, and there was a moment of tense silence before we both let out sighs of relief accompanied by some happy chuckling.
Lyle was still chuckling when he said, "Well, while I'm here..." I was still in the middle of my own giggle fit, so I didn't process the words until I felt the skunk's fingers back at the catch of my pants, which posed no threat to such nimble, practiced paws. "Hey, wait," I started to stammer. "Are you sure we should be--"
Now, I actually did legitimately attempt to pull away, but Lyle legitimately didn't want to let me: he grabbed both of his paws at my hips, first holding me in place and then pulling me closer, making the tip of my cock bump against his lips so hard that I was sure I'd hurt him. If I did, though, he didn't show it, and soon enough, those lips were out of my way, replaced by the flicking tip of his tongue.
Concentrating on not losing my balance yet again, I just looked straight ahead. Seeing the coffee bar from the other side was weird and disorienting; if you're used to seeing something are certain way all the time, seeing it otherwise is very confusing. I wasn't used to seeing all this familiar stuff from the 'wrong' angle. I certainly wasn't used to looking at the pastry case while having someone lick and kiss all up and down the length of my shaft. Would I ever be able to walk into this cozy little coffee shop ever again without getting weak in the knees, now?
Further speculation was curtailed by the sensation of warm metal sliding down along the underside of my member, followed immediately by the skunk sealing his lips down around me, trapping me snugly in his damp little snout. Now I was so turned on that, even with my shaky legs, I couldn't not look. Reaffirming my grip on the counter's edge, I turned my gaze downward, only to find that Lyle was already looking up at me, eyes bright and tail wagging, clearly having been waiting for me to take that glance downward. Oh, fuck, he was just the cutest little thing, and he knew it.
Satisfied that I was in no position to try to pull away again, the skunk slipped his paws away from my hips. He planted one of them on the floor in front of him, and he used the other to hold the base of my shaft steady as he started to move his head back and forth. His lips and tongue dragged along, leaving me nice and slick for the smooth curves of his piercing to glide along. The metal provided a sensation that I wasn't used to, but Lyle clearly was no stranger to using it to maximum effect.
As mentioned, it had been quite some time since I'd had anyone tend to such needs of mine, and so I knew I wasn't going to last long. That was kind of embarrassing, actually, since I didn't want to leave a bad impression. Regardless, there was so much working against my efforts to hold out: the fun tickling of the skunk's piercing, the determined eagerness he was showing, the fact that anyone who happened to walk by the front window would see this poor, trembling rabbit shaking and shuddering as he leaned in against the bar counter. I tried to focus on the most random things I could in order to distract myself, like the art deco clock on the wall and the frames with all the local newspaper awards the shop had won, but Lyle was just too good at doing what he was doing.
Well, it was pretty clear from where I was standing that Lyle knew what he was getting into and knew what he wanted, and he wasn't exactly shy about it, either. I didn't want to just let myself go, though, either, mainly because I was still enjoying it a whole heck of a lot. It was tricky, then, as I tried to ease myself out of the tense state I'd worked myself into, allowing myself to slip, bit by bit, causing my breath to hitch and stagger as I was absorbed further and further by the warm, wet pleasure I was being so thoughtfully subjected to.
I didn't look down as I reached down with one paw, grabbing onto one of Lyle's ears hard for support. I almost fell over again as I bent sharply at the waist, my torso arching and hunching forward over the skunk's head as I started to spurt out against his tender tongue. As I went on, gasping and panting and whining in pleasure, it occurred to me that I never did actually hear from Lyle that his coworkers were really gone and not just stuck in the back room doing the paperwork or something.
Lyle didn't seem too concerned, though. He just swallowed, and then slipped his mouth back off of me before getting to his feet, picking up the jar of biscotti and placing them back atop the counter from where I'd knocked it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his paw and then smiled as he rubbed his foot up against my ankle. "Well, seems like someone needed that even more than I thought," he said. Even with the apron covering his front, I could see that he was pretty erect, himself, though if my eyes hadn't been trained to notice, I probably wouldn't have.
"Guess you're just more perceptive than I am all-around," I replied. I was still short of breath and I was sort of dizzy, too. I suppose I really had needed that, after all. Then, just as I was debating whether or not it was a good idea, I reached down and patted him down between the legs, at the faint little bulge that I'd keenly spied. "Did you want that ride back to your place, now?" I asked.
The skunk purred back to me and started to stroke his fingers in along the inside of my forearm. "Aw, we're not working in terms of favors, here," he said, tilting his head back. He made no move to stop me, regardless.
"I didn't say we had to be," I said, rubbing my cheek against his own as I explored him further, doing the best I could with all those layers of fabric in the way. "So, do you want to?"
"Mmm, well..." He let his voice trail off as he reached up and started to undo his apron. "if you insist, let's finish up here, first." He slipped back out of my reach for a moment, finished unfastening the waist strap of his apron, and let it fall to the floor. His bulge was much more noticeable now that he was just in jeans--pretty tight jeans, I might add, which accentuated his nice, boyish frame. I took the open invitation and went back to groping him, and he cuddled himself up against my front.
"Eager little guy, aren't you?" I teased, speaking into his ear as he nuzzled into the crook of my neck. His face was soft, but the stud in his eyebrow was a surprise, adding a much different texture as he pressed in near my throat. I arched up onto my toes for a few seconds, almost lifting the skunk off of the ground with my palm up between his thighs.
Settling back down, I actually had to look down in order to make sure I could properly get his jeans open. I hadn't done so in a while, especially not in a heated, frantic situation like this one. So, I was a little clumsy, my fingers and claws missing the mark entirely a few times, but Lyle said nothing and didn't try to help me, and eventually I succeeded in getting him free of his pants. The skunk responded with a sigh of relief, followed by a few slow licks over the pulse point in my throat.
Lyle was a leaky fella, too, it turned out. After having fought to get his jeans open, it was much simpler to get his cock out through the convenient hole in his boxers, and even at that first touch, his was very damp and slippery, almost feeling like he'd already had someone give him a few nice lickings himself. Feeling that dampness against the fur of my fingertips probably would have been enough to get me hard all on its own if I hadn't just spent myself.
As I started to brush my fingers back and forth, familiarizing myself with how the skunk felt, his breathing got nice and airy. Its tone was soft and light, calling attention to itself with how young it made him sound. It occurred to me that I wasn't even sure how old he was, really. Younger than me, at any rate. From the way he was breathing, I would have labeled him inexperienced, but after the blowjob he'd just given me, I knew better.
A lot more weight fell against me as Lyle lifted one of his feet off of the floor. His tail worked for counterbalance, but I was still left with having to support most of him. He wasn't heavy, but I didn't have very good leverage to work my palm and fingers over his shaft and still keep myself upright, so the trade-off rapidly became not worth it. I shifted my own weight back, forcing Lyle to settle back down onto both feet, and then, to remove the temptation of him leaning on me again, I got down onto my knees.
I was distracted by all the different coffee-making paraphernalia down underneath the counter for a few moments, but Lyle was patient. My mind kept wandering, despite how eager and turned-on I was, but my attempts to maintain focus kept failing me. I shook my head as if to shake away some dizziness that wasn't actually there, and then I brought my lips up to the skunk's smooth, leaky tip. The scent of him overwhelmed that of espresso, now, and when my tongue first touched him, I was actually a tad bit shocked at how tangy-sweet he was.
That did a good job of helping me regain my focus. It was almost like it was my first time sucking another guy off, with that same sort of nervousness over whether or not I was going to do an okay job or whether I was going to make some clumsy slip-up; also as if it were something new to me, though, I let my enthusiasm carry me, my lips sliding down along Lyle's warm, hard flesh as I groaned with some selfish pleasure of my own. He felt good--nice and hot and full in my mouth--and if I'd had a tail like his, I'd've been wagging it to and fro like there was no tomorrow.
More of that youthful-sounding raspy breathing fell on my keen ears, and the sound of having someone else driven to such pleasure because of something I was doing made me feel as rush like I hadn't felt in months, possibly years. Any of the sporadic sexual encounters I'd had with my friends in recent years had all just been so... I don't know, maybe just so banal and prosaic that they'd really been nothing more than a mutual exchange or orgasms inspired by nothing more than mere convenience. What I had right now was passion, and even if it was some random, spur-of-the-moment thing, I couldn't deny that that passion was really there.
I heard scuffling from up above me, and when Lyle let himself hunch forward, I knew he'd needed to clear himself a spot on the counter from which to support himself. If he was that weak already, I knew he must be close (and I couldn't tell, otherwise, because he was still just as drizzly as he had been before I'd even started touching him).
He was close, and with a bitten-off cry a few moments later, I got that much stronger taste of him that I'd been expecting. The first thing that hit my mind (well, after the initial rush of satisfaction) was that I could really tell that he was the kind of guy who drank a lot of coffee. It wasn't bad, per se, but it was noticeable. I only had time to notice, though, and not time enough to mind.
With the deed done, I slumped back onto my paws and stayed huddled down on the floor for a while. I was short of breath, as if it had been me who'd just hit climax and not Lyle. Saying that I was a bit pent up would probably have been an understatement.
"Okay," the skunk said, offering a paw to help me to my feet, "now how about we see about that ride home, hmm?"
I smiled back at him, but suddenly I felt sour. Now that I was out of the moment, the real one-night-stand nature of what we'd just done was starting to hit me. It didn't help that he was immediately asking to just be taken home, and there was no tone of suggesting that he meant for me to join him once we got there. That was fine, I guess, since it's not like sucking each other off meant that we were committed partners for life or anything like that, but I still felt weird as we headed to my car.
"Thanks, by the way," the skunk said. "I mean, for the ride home, not for the--well, you know. I mean, thanks for that, too." Again, he was the picture-perfect image of youth, with a big, bright smile that was adorable at the same time as it was off-putting, because all I could think of when I saw it was how he was just some kid and I was some guy who just happened to be gay and who just happened to be in the right place at the right time for some fun.
I don't know what made me so bitter. I mean, he'd never been anything but nice to me, and I had no reason to have expected even so much as a second look from him when it came to... well, desirability, I guess. I should have felt good about having been wanted, but... well, I was being stupid, but even admitting that to myself, it wasn't changing the way I thought.
Halfway to Lyle's place, I realized that we were heading towards the Santa Zorrita University campus. That explained a lot, actually: college boy, working evenings at a part time job to make some spare cash to use in picking up other cute college boys at places like Roxie's. He at least lived in an apartment near campus instead of in one of the campus dormitories, though, so he had some taste.
"I'll see you around, yeah?" he said with a wink and a smile as he got out of my car.
"See you around," I replied, trying to hide the fact that my heart wasn't in it.
Like I expected, no invitation to come inside. No "Hey, here's my phone number, why don't you call me sometime?"
For the next several days, I avoided Fascination Street entirely. I couldn't quite get used to the taste of that "mass market" coffee--or maybe that was just my subconscious acting up. Or maybe I really was just that picky. I didn't waste too much brainpower on figuring that out, though. As long as I got my caffeine, I wasn't too cranky. I wasn't as cranky as I probably would have been, at any rate.
On Thursday night, I made my way back to Queen of Spades as per usual. I got there later than I typically did, the night already in full swing by the time I walked in the door. I knew that I just needed to belt one out and it would make me feel better, and in order to really sing, I needed to get a strong buzz working on. With that in mind, I started with the strong stuff, and I planned to work my way up from there.
I entered myself into the song rotation, and I came up before I was even done with my second drink. Without enough inebriation to back me up, I didn't yet feel up to giving Sundance Valero a whirl, so I went with The Fangs' "Bloody Snout," which got me more than a few snide looks from the crowd, since evidently, it was a crime for a rabbit to sing an angry canine-type song (which, hey, nobody complains when an otter sings a song by any one of those seventeen-year-old teenybopper vixens who all sound exactly the same).
My third drink was on its way when I heard one of those nauseatingly 'dancy' tunes wind up. I didn't know the name of it, but I'd been hearing it more and more often in recent weeks, which probably meant that it had already been adopted by the gay crowd as the latest 'in' thing. I brought my glass to my lips and I was all set to tune the song out when the singing itself made me pause. My ears started to tingle, and like some slow motion sequence from some old movie, I turned around and saw none other than little Lyle up front with the mic in his paw.
I do have to admit that his singing wasn't bad. It wasn't great, either, but to follow a young female vocalist like that, even if you're a scrawny guy, isn't the easiest thing in the world. He got a modicum of applause--about what he probably deserved, really--and then he just flashed me this big ol' grin before padding right up to me at the bar.
"So," he said, drawing out that syllable as he hopped up onto the stool next to time. "Someone's either been cutting caffeine out of his diet, or--and I hate to say this--someone is being too shy for his own good."
"I don't think I was too shy the other night," I said. The words sounded more bitter than I'd intended them to, I realized, so I quickly covered my lips with my glass.
Lyle smiled. "Which makes your behavior since then all the more confusing, then, doesn't it?" he said, tapping the toe of his shoe against my leg. "Seriously, what's up? Why haven't you come by?"
"I've just been busy," I lied. "I'm finally getting into the swing of things at the office, and so things are starting to ramp up."
"All the more reason to get more caffeine in your diet," the skunk said, grabbing hold of his seat down between his legs. "Besides, unless you're working fourteen-hour days or something, it's not like you'd be unable to swing by the shop on your way home from work."
Setting my glass down on the counter, I resisted the urge to ball my paw up into a tiny fist of rage. "And what if I am too busy?" I asked. "What then?"
"Then I come and find you," the skunk replied. "Like I did tonight. Speaking of which, how'd I do?"
"What, in tracking me down?" I asked with a snort.
Lyle swatted me on the shoulder. "No, I mean with my song," he said. "I don't sing a lot, but I figured that, since I was here, I might as well get in the spirit of things."
The club's lighting was shining off of his piercings and also in his eyes, and his cheery, lighthearted expression reminded me of why I'd been so attracted to him in the first place, before I'd let myself get so upset with him. "Oh," I said, my anger slipping away. "You did all right--I mean, considering that you don't sing much. Er, I mean--"
He interrupted me with his giggling. "Nah, hey, it's cool. I know what you mean." He nodded over toward the stage, where another one of the regulars (a scrawny wolf who went by the stage name 'Hermano') was working the mic. "You going up there later, I hope?"
"I'm in the rotation already, yeah." He must've missed my previous song. In retrospect, I felt that that was a good thing, somehow.
"Well, I can't wait to hear you," the skunk said. "I bet you've got a nice voice."
I looked back into his face for a few more moments, until the silence got too awkward again. "Okay, I'll bite," I said to him. "What's your deal? I mean, with me."
The skunk blinked a few times. "What's my deal?" he asked, flinching back. "Er, nothing, really. I just like you and I thought we... well, you know, that we had some chemistry. I hope I'm not bothering you. Because if I am, then I can..." He let his words trail off, there, but I knew what he was going to say.
"No, it's okay," I replied, shaking my head. "You're not bothering me. I'm just... I dunno, just confused. You didn't strike me as... well..."
"As what?" he asked, giggling again. "As someone who wouldn't give up at the first signs of adversity?" If he hadn't delivered that comment in such a bright, sunny voice, I would have thought he was bitter.
"I guess," I said. What was I supposed to say? "I figured you were just after my dick, and that was that"?
Lyle tilted his head to the left, and then to the right, and then he smiled again. "You're strange," he said. "But I sort of like that. It's like you and I are from different worlds, and I get to explore where you're coming from."
I hadn't ever thought of myself as uncharted territory or anything like that, so Lyle's comment confused me. My confusion must have shown on my face, though, since without my having to ask anything, the skunk then said, "Maybe it's because you've been out in the real world for so much longer than I have."
"I don't know if I'm all that grown up," I protested. Hell, I at least tried to dress snappy for my visits to the club! "Although speaking of which, when do you graduate?" I asked.
Lyle lowered his eyebrows and stared back at me. "Graduate?" he asked.
"Yeah. Aren't you... aren't you over at Santa Zorrita?"
The skunk's expression got even flatter. "What are you talking about? I'm working on my dissertation."
My own embarrassment hit me so hard that I thought I was going to be dizzy. "Oh, jeez, I'm so sorry!" I blurted, turning my ears away as best I could. "I mean, I just..."
Lyle shook his head and started to chuckle. "Dude, I'm just fucking with you," he said. "I just wanted to see the look on your face--and believe me, it was pretty priceless."
I was still too stunned to be angry with him for having pulled that stunt. "Ah. Yeah," I said, figuring that I wouldn't stammer if I didn't speak. "So you are just in college, then?"
"Actually, I'm working on my MA," the skunk replied. "It's kind of slow going, though, because I'm having to study part time. I'll get there, though."
Another awkward silence ensued, and I got myself through it by taking a few heavy sips of my drink in rapid succession. Lyle sat quietly and watched me, with an air of mild detachment, and when I set my glass back down, he said, "So you really thought I was in college, then?"
"Yeah," I admitted. "You just... look young."
"Thanks," he said with a grin. "But let me guess: you thought I was just some kid who was just--"
I decided to cut him off so that he wouldn't need to say anything that might potentially embarrass either one of us. "Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking," I said apologetically. 'I didn't mean anything bad by it or anything, though."
"No offense, but you really are kind of clueless when it comes to this sort of thing."
"When it comes to what sort of thing?"
"You just don't seem like you're used to having someone interested in you," the skunk said.
"Maybe not," I said, sighing and smiling at the same time. "But, I mean, I'm also not used to jumping right into sex before I've even had my first date with someone."
Lyle patting me on the thigh and smirked. "Hey, you didn't seem to mind," he pointed out. "But seriously, though, what's wrong with two people who're interested in each other seeing where things go?"
"Nothing's wrong with it, no. I just wasn't aware they were 'going' anywhere, is the thing," I said.
"Exactly," the skunk said, chuckling as he tapped a claw at the spot on my leg where he'd just patted me. "Like I said, you need to pay more attention to things."
I wasn't angry anymore, and in fact, I felt pretty stupid, by this point. "I'm sorry," I said. "I figured if you were, you know, interested or whatever, you'd have like... said something. Given me your phone number or something."
"You come by my work almost every day," the skunk pointed out with an even wider smile. "I know you know how to find me."
"Yeah, but how was I supposed to know that you wanted me to come find you?"
Lyle hooked a his finger into the collar of my shirt. "You ask, silly."
The ridiculousness of the situation finally finished sinking in, and I just broke down into a quick giggling fit. Here I was, almost thirty years old, and I was showcasing the fact that I'd forgotten the most basic tenets of dating that boys even half my age knew. Lyle seemed to be sharing in the humor, though, because he was laughing, too, and it sounded more like he was laughing with me instead of at me.
"Well," I said, once I'd caught my breath and recomposed myself. "Now that I know, I'll be sure to ask you next time."
Lyle cleared his throat theatrically and lowered his eyebrows. "You know, I am here right now," he said.
I would have blushed again if I'd ever stopped blushing before. "Okay, then," I said, straightening myself out. "Would you like to go and do something sometime?"
"Yes," Lyle said. "Yes, I would."
I opened my mouth to ask for some more details, but at the moment, the DJ announced that it was my turn to go up and sing. I sat there on the stool, hesitating, but Lyle just shook his head and laughed.
"Go up there and sing. Like I said, I want to hear you," he said. "Don't worry; I'm not going to go anywhere."
With that, I got up there, took the mic, and did one of my frequent renditions of Sundance Valero's "If Only This"; it wasn't my best performance, but it wasn't half bad, either. It wouldn't be one of the worst songs anyone heard that night, I'll admit that much.
When I got done with my song, I walked back over to the bar, and true to his word, Lyle was still sitting there, waiting for me.