A Midsummer Day's Dream
A Midsummer Day's Dream - by ColinCougar - 18/06/10
(1)
Roddy was a 19 year old wolf. He had white fur and blue eyes. He was 6'2'' tall. He was really good at math and english and such. But his favorite subject definately sports. Hew as the star of his schools basketball team the Panthers. One dayhe went home from school. He heard some one behind him. Hey Roddy He heard a voice behind him. he turned. Its Kyle behind him. Kyle is a stallion. He's Roddys best friend. He's 18 years old. Hes even larger then Roddy. He's more then 7 foot tall. He has black eyes and brown...
This was as much as Xavier could take. He began skipping single words, then whole sentences, and before he knew it he was skimming the text rather than reading it. Ever so furtively he dared a glance past the page, but the Bernese opposite him didn't miss the movement. Two expectant brown eyes fixed upon him.
"Well? What do you think?"
There it was: the very question Xavier had been dreading. He lowered the piece of paper to the table slowly, hoping for some diversion that would offer him more time to phrase his answer. Yet if there existed a place where nothing unforeseen ever happened, it was Redhurst's public library, and the gray fox's mute wish was greeted only by the soft hum of the air conditioning.
"It, uh, it has potential," he managed.
Which was true, strictly speaking. All the ingredients for a good story were there - the fairly interesting plot, quirky characters, a familiar (if a tad unoriginal) setting, even the mixed-in pinch of humor. The language, though not Shakespeare by a mile, was more elaborate than one would have suspected in the wake of the first few paragraphs, and large sections of the text boasted a fair amount of detail. It was evident that Tyler had put much effort into his homework, not just scribbled down a few paragraphs between classes.
It didn't change a jot to the fact that the text was light-years away from being a good story, though. It was riddled with spelling errors, cosmic in its ignorance of punctuation and structure, erratic where tenses or narration were concerned, and rather than introducing locations, characters and character relationships little by little, the reader was left steamrolled with descriptions every time a new key element appeared.
A true critic - whose primary aim was to be supportive - would have stated all this, would have used less mollycoddling and more brutal honesty in his analysis. Tyler deserved as much with his essay, yet one look at the excited young face in front of him pulverized Xavier's resolve to add a more sincere afterthought. Why on earth did the dog have to have such a sweet disarming smile?
Then again, Tyler's smile was paramount among the reasons why the two of them were having their little educational tête-à-tête. If at the beginning of the school term somebody had told Xavier he'd be giving a jock private lessons in Creative Writing, he certainly would have choked to death in a fit of disbelieving laughter. But fast-forward just about forty days, and guess whose paw had risen as if possessed in answer to Ms. Klein's search of a tutor for one of her junior year students? Yeah, his, and on the double!
And his paw wasn't the only part of him that had taken to the air at the sight of the blushing canine with the embarrassed grin standing beside the teacher, tail tucked between his legs in a prominent sign of nervousness. God, ever since that display of innocent cuteness incarnate, Tyler Montgomery had Xavier's brain locked in overdrive. The countless daydreams he lived through focused on not-so-innocent flights of fancy far more often than on tutoring plans, and what his subconscious came up with at night was utterly too explicit to ever be considered family entertainment. Consequentially, Xavier woke with a raging boner each morning and was half hard half the day, every day - something not even the occasional fapping session could diminish much, nor for long.
Why, even now, sitting in a corner of the library's second floor, with at least three other visitors rummaging through the shelves nearby, he had a bit of a problem convincing his cock that drilling a hole in the underside of a tabletop was universally considered bad behavior.
He forced the mischievous rascal down with a low-key left paw motion and banished all distracting thoughts into the hindmost recesses of his mind. Or tried to, anyway. When they had picked their table, Xavier had deliberately settled down on the one chair that left him with the aisles upon aisles of bookshelves in his back. Now all there was in his field of view was the building's bleak beige outer wall - dirty, flaking and altogether too nondescript to divert him from the sexual distraction that sat dead ahead. Tyler was swishing his tail in thrilled happiness at the dubious praise he'd received.
Left and right; left and right; left...
Xavier cursed under his breath, readjusted his pants for a second time and leaned forward. He pushed the printout back toward the dog. "Now let's see where we can improve on what you've got already," he said quickly, before Tyler could ask him what he liked best about the story. "How about we start on the structure. What do you know about paragraphs?"
(2)
The next ninety-five minutes passed in a jiffy. Once the first revisions on Tyler's text were underway, Xavier lost himself in the task and all but forgot that his padawan also happened to be a gorgeous hunk of a dog. (Well, except for this one brief moment in which a certain expression on his face reminded him of that naughty schoolfox Justin from Queer as Folf. Luckily at that moment Tyler tilted his head and asked a sidetracking question, so there was no further creatively executed damage to public property.)
And Tyler, in turn, eagerly lapped up every suggestion Xavier dished out. What coordinating conjunctions were there and why and when to use them; the occurrence of homophones and near-homophones like then and than or their, they're and there and how to avoid mixing them up ("larger than Roddy, more than seven feet tall!"); how to correctly write the most frequently misspelled words (like definitely); in medias res vs. ab ovo; and so on and so forth - Tyler nodded through each and every one of Xavier's lectures, and actually understood about a third of them, by Xavier's estimate.
By the end of their session, Tyler's homework wasn't perfect, but neither was it the dreadful text he'd entered the building with. If he continued to work on what they'd established and heeded the instructions he'd been given, the story Tyler was handing over to his teacher next Tuesday should earn him a solid C, Xavier guessed. He said as much, which gained him another iridescent smile on top of another happy tail wagging.
Right and left; right and left; right...
Xavier let out a quiet sigh. At this rate, the tip of his penis would show serious pressure sores before the day was out!
"Still, would you go through the text again with me on Monday, after school? I really, really wanna make sure my homework is good enough for Ms. Klein."
"Don't worry," Xavier soothed, "it will be. But, sure, if you want to, I can take another look at it on Monday. Sure."
Tyler looked positively relieved. "Awesome. Er, where? Here again, at five?"
Xavier was certain Tyler had chosen the library as their meeting place because it was for his jock friends what holy water was for vampires: something to avoid at all cost. From that assumption to the conclusion that he didn't want them to know he was taking extra help in Creative Writing - or by whom - it was only a tiny step. He should have been annoyed with that, or disappointed, but the prospect of meeting the Bernese for another one-to-one lesson was too tantalizing to leave room for negative feelings.
"Fine with me."
"Five it is, then."
"'Kay."
Grinning broadly, Tyler rose to his feet with the bouncy ease of an athlete. The fox moved to follow, but after the first few inches a certain stiff part of his anatomy hit wood. It dawned on him that he had an outstanding reason to stay seated for a little while longer.
"Oh," he spluttered. "Uh..."
(3)
Back along the second-floor aisles, down the stairs, past the internet computers, the newspaper reading room, the checkout and out the building - all the time Xavier was careful to walk half a step behind Tyler, never more, never less. He was only a brush away from cracking under the strain of keeping his inner turmoil hidden and feared that at closer inspection the dog might see through his brittle mask of nonchalance. Better to stay at the edge of Tyler's vision, where the Bernese would see but not notice him, until he had digested the new situation and wrestled back his control.
Assuming that that would happen eventually...
When, upon standing up, his hard-on had threatened to treat the dog of his dreams to a rather unambiguous hello the moment it made it above the table, his tongue had taken on a life of its own, trying to save him from an imminent awkward situation and to buy him time. The drawback to this brilliant scheme was that Xavier's tongue had no brains whatsoever, and with its big brother short-fused by panic this meant that the fox had said the first best thing that came to his mind.
"Oh. Uh...," he had spluttered, "say, uh, don't you live in Oak Falls? Could you, uh, could you give me a lift?"
Tyler broke off the attempt to sling his rucksack over his shoulder and gave him a quizzical look. "What's with your car?" he asked.
"Well, I, uh... My car, uh... It's at, uh, at Birch Drive," Xavier replied, improvising wildly. Had he just asked Tyler out for a ride?! "At the garage there."
"Furlong's Garage?"
"Huh? Oh! Oh, yeah, that's the one. I am, uh, to pick up my car there today. Yeah, pick up my car... I'd really appreciate it if you could drop me off by their shop on your way home if it's on your way. Er, but you don't have to, really. I mean, ehm, that'd be great alright, but... uh. I don't want to be a bother. I could just call a cab, or take the bus. There's a bus line nearby that stops at Birch Drive, uh, or so I've heard, and I could..."
"No need for that," Tyler interrupted him. "You can ride with me."
"Really?"
"Sure. Only, we have to get moving. I've got basketball training this afternoon and I'm getting late already and I need to get home first to change, grab my things and all. Didn't think this would take quite so long," he added, vaguely waving a paw around to indicate that this meant their tutoring session.
"Oh. Right," Xavier had said dumbly and followed the dog into standing up without further ado. Between his chagrin and adlibbing, his member had retreated to its sheath like the tame beast it definitely wasn't.
Now as the pair of them were walking down a last flight of stairs and swerving off toward the parking lot on their right, Xavier's mind was occupied with how his impromptu lies had spiraled out of control, and how easily he might yet hang himself in this self-made mess of a tangle.
For of course he didn't have an appointment at Furlong's. Frell, he didn't even own a car, didn't know anything about them! What if Tyler wanted to compare their cars on the way to Birch Drive? Xavier winced at the thought. Cornered, he might perhaps come up with an existing brand name for his imaginary vehicle, but not even under the threat of thumbscrews would he be able to think of a proper model, or state its characteristics. A simple question like, what's its top speed?, and he was screwed! Then he would have to confess that Birch Drive just happened to be where he changed buses; that he depended on public transport to get around town.
Such a revelation had the potential to catapult him straight into the midst of those unfortunate souls whose everyday life at school was picked upon and made hell by Redhurst High's in-crowd as sport. He'd rather keep with his nonentity status, thank you very much. But after the scene he'd made inside the library, there simply was no way he could back out of his request to tag along, now was there?
They zigzagged their way around parked cars of every size and color, their metal roofs gleaming brightly in the low autumn sun. Tyler set a brisk pace that made it impossible for Xavier to give his dilemma the serious contemplation it deserved, and before he knew it his tutee unlocked the trunk of a new-looking royal blue car that even to Xavier's untrained eye looked impressive as a first set of wheels.
"Hop in," he said, "the door's open."
Feeling more uncomfortable by the minute, the fox still failed to think of a way out. He complied, went over to the front passenger's door and climbed into the seat with about as much willingness as he would have stepped into Smaug's maw. Only when he was strapped in did he calm down enough to realize that the cabin smelled nothing like the jaws of a fabled dragon. The fragrance in his nose was Tyler pure and simple, perhaps as pure and simple as one could get without stealing into the dog's most private territory, his bedroom. The rich scent rolled off his tongue like a superb wine and if there'd been the slightest possibility to do so, he would have bottled it up to take along for further indulgence.
The loud noise of the trunk banging shut jostled him out of his woolgathering and he strategically placed the rucksack on his lap just before the driver's door opened and Tyler joined him in the vehicle. The Bernese gave him a brief grin, then started the engine, firing up Xavier's worries again.
They hadn't talked much after their tutoring session because Tyler had been in haste to get to his car and his upcoming basketball game. But he'd certainly want to chat during their drive, wouldn't he? Xavier gulped. What could he possibly chat about with a jock...?
Oh, he was so screwed!
(4)
As it turned out, he needn't have worried. The radio surged to life together with the engine and they hadn't yet left the parking lot when Guns N' Roses' take on Live and Let Die blared from the speakers. Xavier grappled the familiar tune like a sinking man clutching at a lifeboat, quietly humming along to calm himself - and ogled like a mooncalf when Tyler joined in and provided the lyrics.
Guns N' Roses wasn't the only band they both enjoyed, they soon found out, comparing their favorite songs and artists. They saw eye to eye on the awesomeness of four other rock bands, coincided on the mediocrity or total lack of quality in another half a dozen cases and agreed on their disagreement with regard to Nickelback and Rammstein. Before long they had moved on to movies through the James Bond angle of Live and Let Die, unearthing a whole new branch of similarities and differences in their tastes.
But the greatest surprise was when Tyler asked him if he knew that he shared a name with Professor X. Naturally he did, given his love for graphic novels, but the fact that Tyler knew The Uncanny X-Men (and - even better - owned a few comics himself!) was such an unexpected boon that Xavier had to clasp his paws in front of him to prevent his backpack from faking levitation.
They discussed graphic novels for quite a bit after that. It was eerie how easy Tyler was to talk to, how often they had things in common and how much fun the ride happened to be. So much fun, in fact, that Xavier scarcely had an eye for his surroundings. It was by pure chance that he glimpsed a street sign that said "Juniper Ave" during a right turn.
Juniper Avenue?
Outside the car, immaculate front lawn followed on immaculate front lawn. The houses behind the grass looked altogether expensive and well-kept, with many a porch already decorated for Halloween. The address in front of which Tyler was just bringing their car to a halt was no exception to that. A homemade stained glass window patchwork cloaked the wood beside the house's front door in hues of black and orange. Underneath, a pumpkin the size of a barrel guarded the topmost stair to the veranda, grinning diabolically.
Xavier blinked, dumbfounded. This had to be where Tyler lived! This was Oak Falls! Why was he in Oak Falls? What happened to Birch Drive? Why hadn't they been at Birch Drive? Or had they? Come to think of it, he couldn't even tell which route they had taken to get here, so immersed had he been in their talks.
He was about to comment on the peculiar situation, but Tyler beat him to it with a stream of expletives. He looked at his passenger, a sheepish expression on his face. "I totally forgot about Birch Drive," he confessed.
"Oh."
Tyler put the key back in the ignition and turned it. "I'll drive you there now."
"And your basketball training?"
"Shiiit!" He killed the engine again. "I totally forgot about that, too. Right, I just need to change and grab a few things. Ten minutes max. You wanna come in and grab a root beer while I get ready? Call Furlong's; tell them you'll be late?"
"Er. I'll stay here and call them from my cell," Xavier said in a rush, fighting to keep the note of terror from his voice. As much as he would have loved to see the house Tyler lived in, to scan the walls for photos of the canine as a younger teen, maybe even sneak a peek at his bedroom, he'd rather not set a foot over the threshold if it meant pretending a phone conversation about a defective car he didn't own with a repair shop he didn't really know anything about save its name.
"Oh... Alright," Tyler replied. He paused briefly. "See you in a minute, then."
"Yeah," the fox said to the closing driver's door. He mimed punching numbers on his mobile phone, held it to his ear and watched Tyler walk around the car, jump up the stairs to the front porch and vanish inside the house. He kept his pose for another minute, even mouthed a made-up dialogue for nobody's sake but his own, then returned the device to his jeans pocket with a drawn-out sigh. Guilt was nagging at him.
There was only one place in Redhurst where Tyler could have basketball training with the school team, and Birch Drive was a long way round to it. The extra chauffeur business would make him later than he was already, and Xavier was painfully aware that the dog was gaining naught but trouble for his selfless deed. But it was a good two miles from Oak Falls to Birch Drive. More like three, probably. He certainly didn't want to walk the distance! And besides, another three-mile drive meant another few minutes spent in Tyler's company. Perhaps as much as ten, if there still was road works going on on Old Windwillow Lane...
He growled disgustedly, realizing he was reaching decisions with his loins again - no doubt as a result of driving under the influence of the coercive scent of Bernese for so long! He angrily opened the door and, leaving his rucksack in the footwell, got out of the car. The air outside was warm and clean, spiked with a hint of chrysanthemums and the sweet decay of fallen leaves. He breathed it in deeply, trying to clear his head.
Okay - if he looked at it objectively, he had to admit that three miles wasn't really that far. And the weather was ideal for a walk, too. Only the reddish-yellowish tint to the leaves revealed that it was October already; other than that the day could well have passed for a midsummer day, hot and sunny as it was, with not a cloud in the sky to promise rain. So it might be best indeed if he...
Whhtt!
Startled, Xavier jerked around. Had someone whistled nearby? Two hundred yards further up the chestnut-lined street, a trio of bear cubs was engaged in a street hockey match against an ermine, a hare and a pair of raccoons. Even at the distance, their gleeful shouts and laughs were loud enough to wake the dead. This disqualified them as the source for the low noise. But other than the kids, he couldn't see anyone, and whoever had whistled would have to be close by, impossible to miss. His mind must've been playing tricks on him!
"Pssst!"
This time, the fox was certain he wasn't imagining things. The whisper had come from the general direction of Tyler's home, and at a second look he noticed a figure well concealed in the shadows to the left of the house. A brown-black-furred arm was beckoning to him.
Puzzled, Xavier crossed the lawn toward it.
(5)
The shadows were empty by the time he got there, but they hid a wooden fence that separated front lawn from backyard on the Montgomery estate, with a door in the fence that stood invitingly ajar. He stepped through the gap and into the garden, more and more wondering what Tyler was up to. For it was Tyler who had waved him over. While Xavier hadn't been able to see his face, he'd recognized the dog's profile at once. The distinctive fur pattern on his arm had just confirmed it.
He blinked as he walked out of the shade. A huge cherub-crowned fountain stood in the center of the garden. Water trickled from the angel's upraised fanfare onto a small stone basin beneath, and from there cascaded over a medium-sized basin into a large round pool at the base. Shrubs were planted around the fountain in four symmetrical square angles, to form a waist-high gammadia of evergreen. The bushes were neatly trimmed, it went without saying, just as the grass and the beds and the flowers in this miniature Sha Ka Ree were beyond reproach. Xavier, lost as he was in awe for the gardener's efforts to keep the place impeccable, didn't see the Bernese leaning against the wall of the house behind him. It was the smell of cigarettes that alerted him to the other's position.
He spun around and faced his driver. "What are we do-uhuhoooooooh..."
"Not a very eloquent greeting," the dog said, chuckling. "Most people settle for a simple 'hello'."
He was of one height with Tyler, had the same build as Tyler, his voice a near-identical intonation of Tyler's. But he clearly wasn't Tyler. Xavier looked at a face he did and didn't know. There was the familiar streak of white fur that started on the forehead, narrowed to a finger joint's width between the eyes and expanded again around his muzzle. There were the familiar russet stripes above his brows and the familiar fields of russet on his cheeks that, together with the black ears and the black patches around his eyes, had always given Tyler something of an adventurer in Xavier's book. Where his student had brown eyes, though, this dog's eyes were an electric blue. It lent him an aura of mischief that the amused smirk on his face only augmented. He trumped Tyler's age by perhaps six or seven years, and the family likeness was so strong, he had to be an older brother.
"Uh. Hello," the fox stammered, too perplexed to avail himself of such an intricate concept as grammar. "I, uh... Xavier."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Xavier," the dog replied, his voice a waggish imitation of Oxford English. He completed his little show with the hint of a bow. "The name's Puck."
"Uh. Hi."
"Smoke?" Puck asked, offering a packet of cigarettes. Still flummoxed, Xavier fumbled one out mechanically, stuck it between his lips, watched the mysterious dog light it for him. He didn't smoke regularly, just on and off since it was too expensive a hobby, and as usual had to fight a cough on the first inhale. If his benefactor noticed, he didn't comment on it.
"So, Xavier," he said after a while, "I saw you arrive with my brother. You're on his basketball team?"
"Huh? Oh, oh no! I... I'm a dead loss at sport," he admitted. "I'm just helping him with his Creative Writing homework."
"You jest," Puck exclaimed, feigning shock. The affected British accent had returned. "Don't tell me Ty has actually mastered the command of the English language. I daresay you mock me, good sir!"
Xavier grinned. As his initial surprise was fading, he was quickly warming to Tyler's brother, who'd make a great addition to his D&D role playing group if he could be persuaded to join. "I do not," he said. "He's actually quite good at it, too."
"Good, eh? Now I know you're mocking me," Puck said, winking, his voice back to normal. He took one last drag on his cigarette and threw the butt down onto the gravel bed. "I assume your teacher forced you to do this as a punishment? No?" Puck said to the fox shaking his head. "Then you must love a challenge. My little brother knows the word 'creative' only as a brand name!"
"Really, you underestimate him. His writings really aren't that bad," Xavier rallied to the defense of his student, uncomfortably aware that he was walking a thin line between truth and lie.
"Very well, I bow to the superior wisdom of the expert, then. You are an English expert, I take it? Quite the crack at school? Passing all tests with flying colors? Teacher's showcase student and so on and so forth, eh?"
"Er. I'm doing well enough, I guess..."
"Modest, too... My, my, you certainly aren't one of Ty's jock friends. I'm surprised he even knows someone like you! And how many unknown future Hemingways do you teach?"
Xavier finished his cigarette and stepped it out. "Just Tyler."
"Just him? No one else? Never before?"
"Nope; never."
"Don't tell me you volunteered because nobody else did."
"No, of course not," Xavier retorted hotly. "Emilia Derkins also offered to teach him, and so did Susanne Carrington. Oh, and Victoria Romanow, and she's really, really talented. Her short stories always earn her A plusses!"
"Do you like basketball?"
The radical change of topic threw the fox and he hesitated in his answer. "Not... really, no."
"Then why are you going to watch Ty play?"
"Huh? Oh! Oh no, I'm not," he said once he understood the question. "Tyler gave me a lift, is all."
"Gave? Here?"
"Well, no, not here. He wanted to drop me off by my bus..., uh, at Birch Drive. We just... kinda... forgot about that."
"He forgot to drop you off on your way here." Puck said, deadpan. "I see." Xavier felt the dog's scrutinizing gaze on him, found himself shuffling nervously under the stare. He was tremendously relieved when Puck knelt down to pick up a few pebbles and the spell broke.
"Say," Puck began, "you wanna help me test a theory of mine?"
"Uh. Sure," Xavier said, uncertain.
"Great. All you have to do is stay right there." He moved away from the house, walking backward. Halfway to the fountain he tossed one of the pebbles against a window on the second floor, six feet to Xavier's right. The projectile reached its destination with the unmistakable crackling noise of a small stone hitting glass, like flying gravel on a windshield.
Plock. Plock. Plock.
The window opened on the fourth impact. "Puck!" Tyler yelled, very audibly pissed off. "Stop that, dammit! You wanna throw my window in?"
"Hey Ty," Puck shouted back, unfazed. He pointed a finger. "Guess who I found."
Tyler had to lean far out of his window to look straight down. Most of his fury ebbed away as he laid eyes on the fox. "Xavier," he exclaimed, stumped. He held his old t-shirt in his paw but hadn't yet put on a new one, Xavier couldn't help but notice, staring at the well-toned naked torso above him.
"Yeah, him," Puck replied. "The guy you singled out as your tutor, over three girls practically salivating after you, I bet. Say, lil' brother, when were you going to tell him that you'd love nothing better than to get into his pants?"
(6)
For a second Xavier thought Tyler was going to tumble from the building, to land right next to where his own lower jaw had just shattered. Puck couldn't have said...
"I believe he wouldn't mind," the dog continued right through the twin gasps he'd caused. "He apparently took on English tutoring just for you, and he hasn't been able to take his eyes off of you for one second since you started flaunting your body up there!"
That got Xavier to snap his muzzle shut, alright. He looked from Tyler to Puck (who stood there, arms crossed, with a grin on his face to outdo the Cheshire cat) and back to Tyler, while either his blood or molten lava was surging into his head in waves, to set his face afire. "I'm not... uh, able. I mean, not able... I mean, I'm not not able...," he got past his lips, and then words failed him. His cheeks were burning somewhat fierce.
Tyler wasn't much better off. Wide-eyed and ears folded back, he was the very picture of a child caught with his paws in the cookie jar. "N-N-no," he stuttered. "That's... That's not... I'm not flaunting... I didn't know..." He trailed off.
Puck bellowed a hearty laugh. "That sure sounded convincing, guys! Ty, I hope your Creative Writing session wasn't half as abysmal as your hasty denials, or you should consider finding yourself a different tutor. But then again, you didn't really pick the fox here for his English skills, now did you, bro?" He chuckled. "No, I bet you didn't...
"Well, what can I say? I think maybe the two of you should sort things out inside!"
Inside?! Xavier trembled at that, but at the same time the suggestion made him look up again. Tyler hadn't retreated into his room, hadn't slammed the window frame shut in a litany of curses or insults. He was radiating embarrassment as obviously as the universe was big, and yet he was still leaning from his window, inert except for the twitching of his ears. That was a good sign, wasn't it? Xavier swallowed hard and mustered enough courage to give him an infinitesimal nod.
After an endless second, Tyler returned it.
"Now the two of you are finally making sense!" Puck said. He walked back to Xavier, put his arm around his shoulder, and ushered him to the house's back door. "And don't you worry," he added in a confidential whisper, "I'll waylay mom when she gets home from her neighborhood book club meet. Just in case things get messy..."
There was no mistaking Puck's definition of messy; he had backed its meaning up with a grin so wide, it threatened to tear his face asunder. The fox let out a throttled gurgle. Before he could even begin to transform it into a protest, however, Puck waved him off. "Codswallop," he said in his British alter ego voice. "Don't want to hear it!"
He opened the door and shoved Xavier through it, into the kitchen. Xavier practically fled into the room beyond, glad to get away from garden and its strange inhabitant. Eventually he reached the corridor and the stairs that led up to the second floor. He stopped by its base. Tyler was standing at the balustrade above and looked down at him passively. He had used the interim to put on a black t-shirt with the logo of the school's basketball team on the front.
Somehow, Xavier wrung a mutilated "hi" from his throat.
"Hi," Tyler replied, his voice only slightly more steady.
"Your brother," Xavier said, just for the sake of saying something, "he's so, so..."
"Mental?" Tyler offered.
The fox laughed. "Different from you, is what I wanted to say. I mean, you two look very much alike. He even walks like you and talks like you, but he's just... not like you at all."
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
He didn't elaborate, and the silence stretched into awkwardness. Xavier fidgeted on the spot, raking his brains for another innocuous question with which to kindle their dying conversation.
"Is his name really Puck?"
"Nah. His name's Ken. Kendrick, actually, after dad's grandfather."
Xavier raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, stupid name, isn't it? Puck always hated it. So one day after school - I must have been six or so at the time - he came home and told mom and dad his name was Puck from now on. I know; Puck isn't really a name, but it's been Puck's life-task since puberty to drive mum up the walls, so I guess he simply made up a nonsense name just to spite her. And she certainly got a fit every time she had to call him Puck because he wouldn't react to anything else. She still throws a tantrum once in a while when she hears me calling him Puck, and I do so all the time. Because, seriously, 'Ken'?! I'm just glad she had a falling out with her grandparents before I was born, or I would be a Seamus!"
In truth, Xavier could think of worse fates than to share a name with a Gryffindor, but clearly that wasn't the answer Tyler wanted to hear. "Ewww," he said instead in a tone of exaggerated dislike, and was rewarded with a full and honest smile.
"So, uh... Is it true? Um, what Puck said? Did you specifically pick me as your tutor?"
Tyler took a deep breath. "Yes," he said.
"Oh..."
"And... did you really take up tutoring only because of me?" the Bernese asked in return.
At Xavier's nod, Tyler's tail fell back into its hypnotic swishing rhythm. It wasn't more than one wag, to and fro and to, but the familiar motion gave the fox the strength to ask the sudden revelation that had come to him out of nowhere.
"Back in your car, when you were offering me a root beer, that wasn't really about the root beer, was it?"
"No," Tyler admitted, his chagrin obvious in his expression. "I was just trying to get you to accompany me inside. Crude, eh?"
Xavier chortled. "I wouldn't know; I was too nervous to even realize you were checking me out."
"Really?"
"Uh-huh. Or you bet I wouldn't have stayed in the car!"
"You... Oh!" He hesitated. "So, do you...? Er, would you... Would... would you like to see my room?"
Xavier's ears perked. Before he knew it, he had a big grin of his own plastered on his face. Wasting no more time on an affirmative, he ascended the stairs. Tyler waited for him at the topmost step and led the way down the corridor. His tail was caught up in an intricate choreography, a wild flurry of black fur with hints of white strewn in. Something beat against the inside of Xavier's pants to tell him how much the show was appreciated, but Xavier didn't need to be told.
He was taken in very much himself!
Even without a guide, Xavier could have singled Tyler's room out by the huge poster that covered most of the door. The basketball playing zebra on it must have been a known celebrity to half the world and then some, but Xavier was oblivious to his fame, and had all but forgotten about him already when the door closed behind them.
Tyler's private abode was exactly what Xavier had imagined a seventeen-year-old jock's room to look like - a moderate mess, with many a piece of clothing lying haphazardly on the floor or thrown carelessly over the green beanbag in the corner. A basketball rested underneath the window and its smaller brother, suitable for the hoop that was affixed to the inside of the door, lay on the windowsill. The book cases, the writing desk and the walls were adorned with countless trophies and cut-out newspaper reports of the school team's victories. Over it all hung the typical whiff of stale gym air and sweaty sports clothes.
However, there was more to Tyler than just sports, and his room reflected that as well. Xavier could see the Bernese's keen interest in the sciences, as presented by the multitude of books on biology and physics he hoarded. There was the collection of graphic novels Tyler had mentioned during their ride, flanked by half a dozen photo albums, an atlas, a shelf full of CDs and - lo and behold! - even an X-Box 360 copy of Mass Effect 2. The posters, too, depicted everything from actors over athletes to rock stars. Xavier spotted a familiar face on one of them and screwed up his nose.
Tyler noticed the gesture and smirked. "Nickelback rules!"
"Yeah, right, and The Matrix 2 + 3 are good mov...," Xavier got out, and then the blessed dog leaned in and silenced him with a kiss.
For Xavier, the world winked out of existence the instant their lips met. The dog's essence was potent and heavy in his nose, his taste sweet nectar on his tongue and his breath was like thunder in his ears. A shudder ran down Xavier's spine as he let himself be swept away, eager to drown in the flood.
Their tongues frolicked for God only knew how long, and when Tyler stepped back, Xavier realized he had lost the drive to make the dog see the error of his ways.
"You're playing foul," he admonished.
Tyler grinned. "Just another proof that you don't know anything about sports," he countered.
"That so?"
"Uh-huh." Tyler's eyes were sparkling with mirth.
"Then why don't you teach me, ace?" Xavier replied, and crossed the space between them once more.
(7)
Their second kiss didn't fall short of the magnificent first one, quite the contrary. Xavier cupped Tyler's face, buried his fingers in his mane and cherished the feeling of soft fur and hot flesh under his pads as he pulled the dog in. Not that Tyler appeared to mind his fate. He copied the gesture, gently laid a paw on each of the fox's cheeks and guided Xavier's muzzle onto a collision course with his own. A sigh escaped Xavier's throat just before Tyler's warm lips sealed with his and a wet tongue darted forward to claim his mouth. In the ensuing tongue wrestling match, victory eventually went to the jock, but not before their intertwining muscles had explored every square inch within reach at least twice. They parted short of breath, panting fast, and exultant.
Xavier eyed the beautiful dog opposite him. Tyler was a bouncy ball of energy, his tail an unruly gauge of his excitement. It was easy to imagine him after a victorious game, jumping up and down the field with sheer untamable vivacity, and Xavier made a mental note to watch the school's basketball team from now on.
Tyler brought him back to the present by peeling his shirt off...
One moment Xavier was staring at the black fabric with the gryphon motif on it, the next moment he got a close-up of the tri-colored chest that had overloaded his salivary glands back in the garden already. He swallowed loud. Then, trembling slightly, he stepped forward and ran his paws through Tyler's fur, tracing ridges and furrows with his fingers, mapping out all of the major muscle groups in his upper torso and encountering the occasional childhood scar or three. Up so close, the dog's body smell was mellow and alluring, but it wasn't until Xavier had brushed over Tyler's hardening nipples that he realized that his jeans had become two sizes too tight and the temperature in the room seemed to have doubled.
Their gazes met. Tyler had his eyelids half closed, still rapt from the tender loving care, and yet there was no mistaking the hunger in his stare, the same urgency to carry on that burned in Xavier's veins as well. They had passed the point of no return, and they both knew it.
"You'll miss your training," Xavier warned half-heartedly.
"I've got a good excuse, don't cha think?"
"Absolutely," Xavier beamed, and gave the Bernese a shove that sent him backward onto his bed. Tyler fell into his unmade bedding and kept lying there, lifting only his head to watch out for the gray fox's next move.
Xavier raised his paws to the collar of his short-sleeved shirt and pulled it over his head. Under other circumstances, he might have turned his act of undressing into a slow, baiting striptease, but his libido had battered his ability to reason into submission a good while ago, and it took only a couple of seconds for the fabric to become another casualty on the battlefield that was the floor.
Shirtless, he walked over to the bed, put his knees on the mattress on either side of Tyler and straddled his hips. As he leaned forward to press his mouth to his lover's, he could feel the heat and the throb of the dog's package under his tail. A groan filled the air; whether it was his or Tyler's, Xavier couldn't be sure.
This far into the game, each of them knew what they wanted, and that the other wanted it as well. Where the other kisses had been about passion, their third one was all about need, all about lust. It got feral, rough, with the occasional snapping and growling involved on both sides. Tyler especially grew more energetic by the minute, and Xavier shivered under the many licks and love bites the dog administered to his neck and throat.
It was as intense as it was exhilarating - a thrill ride Xavier wished would last eternally. However, his body told him that eternity would end rather soon at the reckless pace things were progressing. His breath came in rapid huffs, his tongue lolled out of his muzzle and the tightness of his jeans had turned from mildly annoying to nothing shy of torture...
He placed his palms on Tyler's pecs and forced him down onto the bed. A frown blossomed on the Bernese's young face, crinkling the white streak on his forehead in a way that was way beyond cute. He opened his muzzle, and Xavier swiftly put a finger to the dog's lips. No more questions! No more words!
He bent over and sucked Tyler's breast into his mouth. His tongue forked the white fur, caught out a nipple and circled it. Gently. Passionately.
Tyler shuddered and moaned.
Spurred on, Xavier took his time while he repeated his ministrations until Tyler's nipple stood as stiff and erect as it would ever get. Then, before Tyler knew what was happening to him, he seized it between his teeth and nipped it softly.
The Bernese arched his back beneath him, his ability to speak reduced to incoherent, yet ecstatic, yips.
Xavier interpreted this as his cue to forsake his current playground, but he wouldn't dream of abandoning his work on Tyler's chest altogether. For one thing, he loved the flavor of his student too much to give it up already. Tyler's unique scent was overwhelming when licked directly from the skin and coat that produced it, and the additional subtle note of fresh, clean sweat only rounded it off. For another thing, as long as Xavier was doling out sexual stimuli rather than receiving them, chances were his body wouldn't speed ahead and over the edge before he could even get his pants off!
With his tongue he trailed a path through Tyler's fur toward the center of his chest, then followed the line of his sternum down, ever down. He took a medium pause when he reached the navel, to give the depression a thorough tongue bath (which, judging by his level and tone of noise, the dog very much appreciated), then continued on his trek southward. Soon his nose hit denim.
Not even bothering to lift his head, Xavier unzipped Tyler's jeans, fumbled the button open and pulled them down to the knees. Tyler wore black briefs under his jeans, bulging with the full might of his erection and soaked through with pre. Xavier hooked a finger inside the waistband and freed the cooped up prisoner. Tyler's member pulsed with joy at its liberation, and thanked the gray fox with a wet kiss to his snout.
Did he say Tyler's scent was overpowering on his torso? That was child's play compared to the mind-blowing sensory overload he became privy to now! Xavier instinctively lapped up the big clear glob of sweet saltiness that hung from the tip of his nose by a thin strand, and relished the smell, the taste, the whole experience of eating up his dog.
He had to have more!
He wrapped his tongue around the dark red pole of flesh that towered less than an inch before his face. It was canine, like his own, and Xavier knew exactly the kind of things he'd love to feel his cock exposed to if their roles were switched. He licked the tubular head free from the glaze of stickiness that had accumulated there; he traced the veins on the shaft down to the base; he pressed his cold nose against Tyler's swelling knot, exhaled, and watched the dog squirm. All the while he couldn't get enough of the Bernese's fascinating scent and would randomly interrupt his tongue-and-nose play to bury his snout into an especially odorous fold of fur, for instance at the underside of his balls, or the outside of his sheath.
By the time he had thoroughly coated Tyler's scrotum with saliva and returned to the tip of his new favorite toy, nothing indicated that it had been cleaned from pre but minutes before. The glans was spurting liquid like a derelict aqueduct, creating quite a mess even for Xavier's enthusiastic tongue. As his maw enveloped Tyler's penis to the full, a squirt of clear nectar hit the back of his throat.
Xavier grinned around his big prize and started to work his jaw. He gave short, soft sucks that were drumfire to Tyler's taut nerves and made him clench his paws in the fur behind the fox's ears. The reaction encouraged Xavier to bob his head forth and back, just far enough for his teeth to scrape lightly over Tyler's sensitive knot with every third or fourth passing. He curled his tongue and...
"Sto-oo-p...," Tyler wheezed. "Stop!"
Xavier looked up and gave Tyler a blank stare.
"I can't stand much more of this," the Bernese gasped.
Xavier pulled his muzzle off the dog's quivering member. So what?! he wanted to say, but his irritation and disappointment must have shown in his eyes, for Tyler continued before he could speak up.
"If we don't stop, I'm gonna explode soon. And I, ehm...," he fidgeted. "And I'd rather do that... topping you..."
Judging by his mortified expression, one could have sworn Tyler had just uttered the foulest curse word imaginable. He was blushing heavily, too, under that thick coat of his.
Xavier cocked his head. So Tyler wanted to take a more dominant role in their coupling, and yet he felt bad about it, huh? It was so sweet, it pushed his cuteness factor to a whole new level, and the fox's annoyance was blasted away like fog before a wind machine.
Still, he hesitated. True, he was a more of a bottom than a top, and, yes, the mental image of the dog's shaft beneath his tail, inside him, kicked his hypothalamus into high gear. But, a mere hour ago, he hadn't even known the Bernese was gay, let alone that they were about to introduce Rule 34 to their tutoring session. He wasn't ready; he wasn't prepared for this!
"I don't..."
"I've got everything we need here," Tyler rushed to interrupt him, guessing correctly at his thoughts. "Wait!" He got up and hurried over to his chest of drawers, proudly parading the lance of his excitement around. After a quick rummage in the middle drawer he retrieved a pack of condoms and a bottle of lube. He presented the items bashfully, waiting for Xavier's reaction.
It came within the blink of an eye: a furious waggling of his tail.
The sight prompted a relieved chuckle from the junior, and he stepped behind the kneeling fox and hooked a finger trough one of his belt loops. He hoisted him to his feet and spun him around with gusto.
"These will have to go, of course," he murmured, wriggling a paw into the top of Xavier's jeans. Xavier just nodded mutely.
Tyler threw the lube and the condoms onto the bed and went to his knees. He unbuttoned the denims from the inside out, his knuckles skimming trapped, pulsing muscle through a wafer-thin layer of cotton ever so often. Xavier's uncontrolled jerks delayed the inevitable, but, in the end, the loosened fabric slid down to his feet, leaving him clad only in his underwear.
Somehow the fox managed to keep standing and - yapping, grunting, panting - to endure the blissful torment of the Bernese repeatedly grinding his face into the fur everywhere between his thighs and his waist. Tyler's focus, though, was on the briefs. Maybe it was because the narrow white strip of fabric was doing a lousy job at protecting Xavier's modesty, or perhaps Tyler too was a connoisseur of the raw musky smell that rose heavily from the other's nether regions. Whatever the reason that made him lick the (by now translucent) Can't Stop the Signal briefs in earnest, it left Xavier inclined to howl his lungs out.
He chocked down on his scream, sank his claws deep into the parquet beneath his feet and let his eyes wander through the room, looking for something, anything, that might serve as a distraction.
He caught his own face staring back at him.
On the other side of the room stood Tyler's wardrobe, a monstrous piece of furniture seven feet high and easily as wide. The middle one of its three large doors had a whole-body mirror embedded in its surface. It showed their naughty play from the opposite angle; Xavier was watching the reflection of his head and his torso and, below that, the back of the kneeling hulk that was Tyler.
Even crouched, the Bernese made an imposing, a head-turning, figure. With the afternoon sun filtering in through the window, his fur appeared to almost shine - a lush caffè latte brown with flecks of dark chocolate shavings and cream. Xavier's own fur, by comparison, seemed to swallow the light.
Not for the first time, Xavier wished he were a red fox. There was an indismissible allure to a red fox's russet pelt that drew the stares of both sexes alike and usually made the spryly canids the center of attraction wherever they went. Unfortunately, only Xavier's ears, his forearms and a foot-wide ring of hair that began on the back of his head and circled collar-like over the sides of his neck to his upper chest had been dipped into this particular paint-pot. The rest of his fur (aside from a triangular napkin of white that started under his eyes and covered his lower jaw and throat) was a salt-and-pepper gray. And, if there was one thing Xavier disliked about himself, it was the sooty color, which he deemed to be highly unattractive.
Tyler, however, didn't mind the color variation one bit. He kept busy with the briefs, gallivanting up and down the fabric, licking it, seizing it with his teeth and attacking it like a chewing bone. Without warning, he growled a deep loud roar that rumbled through Xavier's side like thunder, and then there was a tug, a snapping sound and a sudden breeze around the fox's privates.
Xavier looked down. His eyes widened in disbelief.
"You bit through it!" he exclaimed, stunned. "You bit my jockeys through!"
Tyler leaned back, the hunting trophy limp in his muzzle. He didn't appear abashed at all, oh no. His wicked smirk and the powerful swings of his tail said he was rather enjoying himself.
He spit the underwear out. "They were in the way," he said slyly, and couldn't hold back his laugh at seeing Xavier gape like a fish in reaction.
He tackled the fox by the waist and they fell onto the bed in a flailing jumble of limbs. The dog came out on top and pulled himself up their sandwiched bodies. His erection hadn't bowed down during the time he had spent on his knees; now it became a burning compass needle that pointed north on Xavier's belly, while the fox's equally unyielding boner was snuggling between the testicles of the larger Bernese.
Tyler rubbed their bodies together, nibbled on the gray fox's shoulder, groomed the curve of his neck with teeth and tongue, and licked his earlobe affectionately. "Are you ready?" he asked softly.
"Yes," Xavier replied, his voice hoarse with desire.
With a last quick kiss stolen from his lover's lips, Tyler rose. He ordered Xavier to lift his legs high up in the air. Xavier complied, pressed his brush down against the edge of the mattress and twitched as the dog applied a shot of cold lube to his offered tailhole. Tyler massaged the sensitive orifice with his paw, smeared the gel around it and, in time, slid a knuckle into the fox. He wriggled the digit around and around, up and down, side to side, in and out. Once Xavier had loosened up, he added another finger to the fray, then a third. He administered another squeeze of goo, just to make sure his tutor was well lubricated, then bent down and wiped his paw on some random piece of clothing on the floor.
He grabbed a wrapper from the box of condoms, ripped it open and rolled its content down over his erection. The remainder of the bottle he upended over the tip of his cock, from where gravity spread it over his shaft and down to his balls.
Tyler crawled onto the bed behind Xavier, heaved his bottom up and pressed his penis against the fox's rim. He looked him in the eye, waiting for the go-ahead.
Xavier gave a terse nod that said it all.
Tyler clasped Xavier's hips. Then he pressed forward, using his grip on the fox to pull himself in. In one fluid motion, he had the sword of his arousal sheathed inside the bowels of his friend, up to the broad pommel that was his knot.
A cut-off yelp rattled the windows. All the preparation in the world could only do so much against the pain of having a bar with the girth of a lightsaber rammed four and a half inches up your ass. Eyes watering, Xavier gritted his teeth as he waited for his body to relax around the intruder. Tyler moved a paw and kneaded the fox's hard-on to take the edge off the pain until it had faded down to a mere discomfort. Owing to the extensive fingering and the surplus of lube, that didn't take too long, thankfully.
While Tyler's first thrusts were still gingerly, he promptly picked up speed as his hormones took over and his last inhibitions crumbled away into nothingness. Xavier's butt was bred in true doggy style, with Tyler jackhammering back and forth inside his slim peer's abused rear at split-second intervals. He was leaning forward, eyelids closed, unconsciously drooling all over the fox's chest - but his paw never stopped its dance on Xavier's shaft. He was milking it bit by bit, coaxing Xavier into humping his palm, so that the up-and-down movement of his hips could further heighten the intensity of their mating.
Xavier slung his legs around Tyler. He would probably regret this later, but he wanted to get the maximum out of their unanticipated romp, and that included tying with his handsome student. The dog's knot hadn't yet filled up with enough blood to give him more than a slight plopping sensation going in and out of his hole, but that would change sooner rather than later. Maybe Tyler would keep the plug buried inside him until it had grown too large to withdraw; maybe - out of worry or tact or whatnot - he wouldn't. Xavier didn't intend to grant the Bernese a say in the matter!
He tightened his grasp, and Tyler quickened his rhythm. Flesh hit flesh, hit flesh, hit flesh, faster and faster and faster. It was impossible to tell who of the two of them was moaning louder, but their guttural duet spoke volumes. For the duration of their lovemaking, there was only them. Nothing else prevailed, nothing else mattered. Both adolescents surrendered unconditionally to their joined bodies' wishes and cravings.
Tyler's pads meandered on. He petted Xavier's knot, squeezed it expertly. It swelled from the size of a golf ball to that of a lemon. The fox whimpered, bidding his pent-up tension not to crest and break - then it was too late, too much, too exquisite, and the torrent of his orgasm spilled over his stomach and chest. Defying the mind-consuming swell of bliss that was dragging him along like driftwood, he continued to cling to Tyler through spurt after distractive spurt dabbling his fur.
And Tyler very much demanded being steered, Xavier knew that now. With his ass muscles clamping down hard with every explosive release, the dog's knot was finally paying tribute to the viselike grip. It was rapidly inflating, and Tyler's no-holds-barred pounding gave way to controlled strokes that ended whenever the natural stopper was on the verge of stealing past the sphincter. It was as Xavier had assumed: the Bernese didn't intend to tie with him.
Well, fat chance for that! He grabbed Tyler's buttocks and redoubled his efforts to get his student where he wanted him to be. He boosted Tyler's next push with the combined strength of his arms and his crossed ankles, and Tyler, unbalanced, toppled forward. His knot ground against the resisting compressor and for a moment Xavier was sure it was already too big to gain entry, so immense were the pain and the feeling of having a titan knocking at his gates. Then the knot wedged itself inside the fox and, still expanding, locked into place. They had tied.
For once, the geek had bested the jock at sports...
His means of escape barred, Tyler didn't have much wriggle room. His final jabs were as quick as they were short. His balls slapped Xavier's butt less than half a dozen times before he came with a bellow that shook the bed and its residents to their very foundations. Time and again he erupted within Xavier, whose own climax had abated and left behind a wonderful spread of warmth and calm. It was impossible to feel any better than this, to feel any more alive than this, he thought!
Tyler concluded his finale with one last deliberate slow thrust and sank down into the sticky embrace of his lover. Winded enough, he rested his cheek on Xavier's shoulder, heaving.
"You were playing foul!" he got out at last.
"Really?" Xavier asked artfully, smiling.
"Uh-huh."
"Well, I wouldn't know. I don't know anything about sports, remember?"
Tyler chuckled. "That so?"
"Uh-huh."
"Hmm... Then maybe I should teach you some more..."
"Hmm... Sounds like a plan!" Xavier replied, and chimed in with the Bernese's deep laugh.
It took them a minute to calm down again. Xavier celebrated every heartbeat of it. He bared his throat for Tyler to nuzzle while he waited for the dog's knot to deflate enough to slip out of its enclosure. Their blended scents perfumed the air and nothing needed to be said that wasn't already obvious from their unrestrained, intimate cuddle. It was, quite simply, the perfect moment.
That is, it was the perfect moment until Tyler's ears perked and he cocked his head, as if listening to some distant or imagined noise. An instant later Xavier heard it too - the sound of heavy footsteps on creaking floorboards. Someone was coming up the stairs!
Two heads swiveled to the door in unison, the same alarming question etched onto each face:
Had they locked the door?
Like fledglings hiding from nearby predators, they waited stock-still and with bated breath, willing whoever it was that was stomping along the corridor to turn back, to go away. But their prayers went unanswered. The door handle moved down and the door sprang open in slow-motion. Tyler made some panicked effort to pull away from the fox, but he could just as well have tried to flap himself to the moon, for all the good it did. Come what may, the two of them were inseparable for at least another fifteen minutes.
A mature female voice floated in through the dark opening. "Hi, honey. Kendrick tells me you have a schoolmate over, and that the two of you might welcome some refreshment during your exhausting private lesson. I hope your friend likes iced tea?"
Suddenly Xavier was aware of the incessant cackling coming from the garden, just as Tyler growled, "Puck, I'm gonna kill you for this!" and a large serving tray with pitcher and glasses was carried into the room, and...
(END)