Subterfuge
Circles and its characters are © to Andrew French, Steve Domanski, and Scott Fabianek. All rights reserved.
The following story contains non-consensual liaisons of a mature nature between two male characters. If you don't like it or are too young, what the hell are you doing here? I love feedback, so if you want to, leave a message at the beep. Enjoy...
Subterfuge ©MMIII Whyte Yoté
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The arcade was dark and noisy, full or furs-the kind of thing expected on a Saturday night in Boston. In a dark corner of the vast strobe-lit gaming floor was a pinball machine. Something having to do with dragons, or medieval castles.
I don't care what the stupid game is about, I just want to win a little, Marty thought as he stared in frustration at the glowing machine before him. Just one good thing to happen to him today, just one, and he would feel better.
Marty had been anxious all week, the kind of anxiety a fur would experience having been put into an unusual perspective. Since he had moved in with Taye and the others, Marty had grown comfortable around the house, but as soon as he left he would start to feel watched, observed, even criticized. It was as if people were looking at him knowing he was gay, and chastising him for it.
A lot of soul-searching had brought Marty to the conclusion that his perspective and the perspectives of those like him were unique. Straight furs could only see Marty one way, not having gone through the whole coming-out-to-myself thing. Marty, on the other paw, had both perspectives of the issue. He knew how he felt about guys, but he also knew how he felt before he "crossed over".
At times, he felt downright gifted, even blessed. Other times he would find himself struggling with the day-to-day dealing with himself. Sometimes he felt so utterly and completely helpless; that if Taye weren't around to lean on, Marty might go insane. He thanked God he had friends in the right places.
Now, staring at this stupid electronic machine, Marty sighed and thought about how he was going to break the news to Taye about the affection they had shared. He yearned to put into words how that night after the Halloween party had changed his life. The Highly Exalted First Kiss, it was. That was when Marty's crush had crossed the line into love. Marty had first thought he had just fallen in lust with Taye, but he knew what he felt, on all the right levels. He was in love with Taye.
It would have to be tomorrow. Marty knew that Taye had the same feelings for him; at least he acted like it. If Taye indeed felt the same, then wonderful. If not...Marty didn't-couldn't-think past "if not". It would definitely be a bridge to cross if it came to that.
One more ball and I'm leaving, Marty said to himself, too many people here. He had no sooner plopped another quarter into the pinball machine when he felt a claw trace itself along his neck around to the side of his throat, where his jugular pumped away. Marty's stomach dropped; his balls tightened up to his body.
"Guess what's black and white and red all over? It's you if you move an inch," a voice thicker than gravel whispered in his ear. "Play the ball."
Marty's breath froze in his throat. His mouth had become desert-dry, and he swallowed reflexively. He watched the pinball shoot into the machine, bounce lackadaisically off the bonus targets. He made no effort to trigger the flippers. Nausea rose in his stomach as he watched the pinball-as if it were some silvery sphere of rescue-roll out of play.
"That's too bad, buddy. You coulda had somethin' there. Now listen to me, chubby-boy, and listen to me good. We're going to have some fun. You don't talk, you don't move, you just look like you're having a good time, arcade style. Piss me off, and I can lay you open in nothing flat. Twitch your ears if you understand."
Marty had no idea why this guy had picked him out of the crowd, with more attractive furs everywhere. He probably was picked because he not only looked naïve, he was easy to scare. His captor had been right; Marty was scared to death, scared for his life. He emphatically twitched his ears.
"What an obedient skunk." The fur's breath seemed to caress his left ear, and he thought he smelled patchouli-and cinnamon. The creature's voice remained gravelly and metallic. "So I won't have any trouble then, will I?"
Marty's ears twitched again.
"Good boy. I think you'll like this." The Voice, as Marty had now decided to call his captor, slid a hand over Marty's ass, slowly rounding each buttock and delving between his legs. Marty raised his tail instinctively. He would do anything if it meant he'd get out of here alive.
Voice pulled in close, pinning the skunk to the pinball machine. He slowly licked Marty's cheek, then lifted his tongue and began to nibble on the left ear. Marty shivered violently; he did not know this was one of his most erogenous zones. Contrary to the situation, he felt his sheath become uncomfortably tight under his briefs.
Marty stared straight ahead at the pinball machine and the wall behind it, wondering how no one else could possible not see what was going on in this dark corner. The darkness was probably another reason why Voice had chosen him as well. The unseen but definitely felt hand made its way to the front of his pants. Voice traced the outline of Marty's semi-erection through his jeans.
"Very nice, my plush friend. You should be proud." When the voice said proud, he squeezed Marty's sheath, making the skunk gasp audibly-thankfully not audibly enough to warrant attention. Voice pressed close to Marty's tail-base, and he could feel the erection through his clothes. Your gun is digging into my hip, his brain said. Not funny under the circumstances.
The arcade grew darker as a high-tempo techno tune was piped into the wall-speakers. Marty had never felt so vulnerable, and as he tried to fight panic the shadow-hand deftly undid his belt, unbuttoned his pants and tore his fly down. Furry fingers slipped under the waistband of his briefs, and cupped his balls. His heart pounding in his throat, Marty fought back tears and controlled his breathing.
"What could I do with this?" Emphasizing the last word with a squeeze to Marty's balls. "I know..."
Fingers roughly pulled his sheath down, exposing his throbbing skunkcock to the air. Marty swallowed heavily. Despite his emotions and the precariousness of the situation, he couldn't deny he was getting off on this. And he'd be damned if he tried to fight it the whole way through.
A claw traced around where the sheath met the cock. Marty tensed, shocked by the amount of arousal he was experiencing. That mouth at his ear again, almost compassionate: "Don't think kid, just feel."
Voice's thumb and forefinger collared his member just below the head and started an almost unbearingly slow stroking motion. Marty closed his eyes, telling himself no use fighting nature, just do what the man says. Murring in his throat, he started to thrust just slightly.
"Good, good. I can't believe you're a virgin. You fuck like a pro." Marty had no idea how Voice knew this, but at this point he didn't care. His entire world was two hands: the one on his cock and the one squeezing the base of his tail, undoing his tail-snap, sliding a claw between his cheeks closer to his hole than anything had ever been. Marty could tell he wouldn't last long. Both of them could tell.
Voice was now alternating the slow, deliberate stroking and a light, feathery motion that almost sent him over the edge. Suddenly, the hand stopped and left his groin. Marty whimpered in protest. If this was the torture that Voice had in mind, then he would rather die. All he wanted to do was climax, no matter what the cost.
One hand quickly slipped his briefs down so that they were cupped below his balls, giving the skunkcock room to extend just under the machine. For a few silent seconds, Marty could feel it bob slightly with his heartbeat. The other hand slipped under his tail and inserted a claw deep past his sphincter. Both hands resumed a forceful masturbation combined with finger-thrusts in time.
Marty fought to keep his legs from collapsing under him. Voice thrust his denim-covered cock into Marty's backside, further pounding his prostate. His crotch was practically being flogged, and he noticed colors creeping into his peripheral vision. He felt the point of no return arrive and pass, and steeled himself for what would certainly be the strongest orgasm of his life.
"Oh Gods yes, boy! Pump into my hand. Shoot all over this machine. Come nice and strong for Daddy." The tingle made its way from his crotch through his entire being. It curled his toes, crept into his balls, and finally to the base of his cock. Tongue lolling out his muzzle, panting heavily, Marty fought to control his outward appearance while his mind gave control to his genitals.
Marty felt teeth on his neck bear down, hard and sharp. The world around him exploded into color, leaving ghost images on his eyelids. Pain and liquid warmth where he was being bitten. The taste of blood, irony and thick on his tongue. Voice pounded his fist up and down Marty's member, feeling it jerk and pump as Marty came, and came hard.
Jets of hot skunkcome shot out onto the machine, coating it and the carpet white. Seven, eight shots and Marty was completely spent. He came back down hard, collapsing, but Voice was there to catch him.
A hand wiped Marty's spent dick clean, then smeared some of the white, sticky fluid across his muzzle. He licked it off, tasting himself trying to relish the afterglow without passing out.
Voice licked his lips slowly, relishing Marty's essence. "Simply wonderful. Nothing like a good mephit, vintage 2001. Was it good for you?" That same scratchy tone, erotic as ever. Marty felt a piece of paper stuffed into the fly of his briefs, where his used and slightly sore cock had all but retreated into its furry hidey-hole. "Read it in ten minutes. Don't look back if you don't want to be sorry." He was let go in front of the pinball machine.
Marty zipped himself back up, left the arcade (it was actually exciting to see how completely oblivious everyone else was) and after ten minutes he was sitting on a bench in the park. Having no idea what was in the note, he nervously opened it up:
Marty,
Forgive me for being so direct, but I felt I had
no other option than to do what I did. I ferven-
tly hope you understand and you're not mad at
me. You did have fun, didn't you? Regardless,
we need to talk tomorrow. About a lot of
things. Later,
Taye
Marty stared, incredulously at the note. He couldn't imagine, in his wildest dreams, that his best friend and roommate had just seduced and pawed him off in public, not to mention scared him to death. He noticed a post-script at the bottom of the note:
P.S.--I came too, you know. Look Ma, no hands!
Sitting back on the bench, Marty sighed heavily. His question about Taye's feelings had been answered. more than adequately. For the very first time, he felt wanted. He was cared about, and he was needed. The weight of at least three years, probably more, fell from his shoulders. His eyes filled with tears and ran down his muzzle, streaking the already sweat-matted black fur. He fought to choke back sobs that threatened to rack his whole body.
Tomorrow will come, he thought, and we will have that little talk. And, the best part was, Marty no longer felt scared, anxious, or alone. Those silly emotions had no place in his new life with someone who was both a lover and who loved him, for all the right reasons. And he didn't mind a bit.
Fin-