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Rebuilding

**A Star Fox Fanfic

Commissioned by ProfessorWolf

Written by Limewah**

18+

James McCloud took a deep breath - the last breath he thought he would ever take.

A spiderweb of cracks was growing across the viewport of his Arwing, and he could feel the shift in pressure as the vacuum of space came closer and closer to pulling him out.

"Hold it in, now!" Pigma's voice still taunted him through the crackle and hiss of the damaged Arwing comms system.

James tried to tune it out. He tried not to entertain the idea of that betrayer's voice being the last thing he ever heard.

Instead, he thought of his little son. Fox. His smiling face. He tried not to imagine the grief spreading along him when the news arrived...

Fox... please don't lose that smile.

He breathed in tighter, refusing to scream as the cockpit cracked and-

Cold.

So cold. His bones froze and his flesh tightened. He felt strangely wet, too. Weightless. A different experience to everything he was told space would be like.

His ears felt as though they were stopped up - he could hear the rush of blood through his body, or maybe it was the fluid around him.

He could breathe, too... a very gentle flow of oxygen was flowing through his snout, thanks to a mask attached to it. For some reason, he couldn't open his eyes either- like something was keeping them pinched shut, too strong to move them. His arms were hugging his knees, held there by that same force, holding him in a foetal ball.

So, he wasn't in space.

He'd simply jumped to another place entirely, like he'd woken up from a dream.

As his consciousness slowly re-established itself, he could feel that wet sensation gradually draining - there was a rushing sensation near his feet, where the fluids must have been draining. His body was gradually exposed to much warmer air, and the flow of oxygen increased too, allowing him to take deeper gulps of air. His mind no longer swum, and alertness spread through him, even if it was only a tiny amount. The overwhelming sensation in his body was a sense of comfortable relief, the sort that came after a long nap, or a rest after an intense workout.

The tightness around his eyes was finally relieved, too, and he was able to slowly, blearily open them.

Through a thick dry-ice mist, he could see a blue, curved, frosted sheet of glass was before him. There were some figures just past it, a series of silhouettes lurking just outside it.

A paw pressed against the glass, its dark pads squishing and spreading out just a little. It looked like a fox's paw...

Who were these figures? Their body language suggested shock, and hopeful anticipation...

There was a loud click, and a hiss, and air rushed in - clear, fresh air that made his fur stand on end.

His arms and legs regained their motion as his feet touched down with the base of the chamber. The cold mist spilled out from the chamber, obscuring those figures for a little longer as he sat down, dazed and spread-legged. His hands felt sluggish and concrete-heavy, but he managed to reach up and pull off the mask.

The 'fresh' air made his lungs spasm and made him cough.

"James!"

...Peppy?

It sounded like him, but hoarser, older...

If the silhouette that the sound came from was anything to go on, he'd put on some weight, too-

"Father?"

A younger voice, a voice almost like his, and -

The fog thinned out, and a face pushed through it, almost bashing right into James. He only half-flinched before the sight paralysed him.

It was like looking into a mirror.

It was Fox.

He was an adult.

He was crying.

And he was smiling that smile, the last smile he thought of before...

James embraced his son, and let the tears flow from his long-unused eyes.

James had to be supported - both by his old friend, and his now-adult son. His legs simply were too weak and shaky to make his way down the hallways of that seemingly-abandoned freighter all by himself.

"I didn't want to believe it," the hare said, his voice quivering. Peppy's fur felt coarser than it used to - a decade and a half of further service and stress would do that to someone.

"I knew you weren't dead," Fox said. "I just knew it. But... I thought I saw you before, I thought you were there when Andross..."

"Is he still kicking?" James croaked out.

"No... no, we got him."

"Good." James coughed. Speaking hurt his throat.

"Take it easy, James," Peppy cautioned him. "You might've just woken up but I think you're gonna need a lot more R&R!"

"Do you know how long it's been?" Fox asked, his face still hot with tears.

"How long," James asked.

"Almost ten years."

"Oofh... so, are we debt free, or did the Great Fox get repo'd?"

"We've still got it," Peppy laughed. "We haven't gotten rid of that millstone you gave us just yet, but we're making pretty good money in the mercenary trade."

"So, how long did it take for you to take over, Fox?" James asked.

"As soon as I was ready. Peppy insisted."

James scoffed and looked at his old friend. "You'd rather defer to a fox, huh? Prey instincts, I guess."

Peppy laughed. "Well... it was that, or leave the poor kid to spin out on his own."

"...Thank you."

James saw two Lylatians waiting for them just ahead, just before an airlock. A blue and red-plumaged pheasant with a sleek figure, and a stocky green toad. The bird's arms were crossed, and he didn't move. But the toad practically bounded over like a puppy, his eyes wide with excitement.

"Whoa! James McCloud?! Is it really him?"

"Yes -" James said. "It's really him."

"Oh, s-sorry sir!" the frog fidgeted and bounced on the spot. "It's nice to meet you! I'm Slippy!"

"Pleasure to meet you," James said, though he could feel his tongue getting a bit thick. "Sorry..."

"Don't be, father, it's okay." Fox hugged him around the shoulders. "I got you."

"Well, good to see this wasn't a trap!" the pheasant said. His tone was haughty and smug - James didn't care for it much. It reminded him of Pigma.

"Come on, Falco," Peppy said. "No need to be like that."

"What about Pigma?" James asked, unable to hide the contempt. "Is he still alive?"

"We haven't seen him in a while. Or the rest of Star Wolf."

"Oh, is he running with O'Donnell?" James scoffed. "That makes sense."

"He's an asshole," the pheasant said. "So he's in good company with them!"

"Do we have the spare suit ready to go for him?" Fox said, seeming quite businesslike. It seemed he was swallowing his feelings and acting decisively. Just how James hoped he would. "We need to get him back onto the Great Fox, now."

James could still feel Falco's eyes on him. Even though he was bleary and dazed, he could read that distrust so easily.

"Why'd you come?" James asked as he was gently leant against a wall. "If I was in your shoes, I'd have had the same assumption as your bird friend over there."

"I know." Fox said, shooting a glance over at Falco. "A derelict freighter, just floating in space, with enough power to keep a cryo pod and life support active for 15 years at most, and it just happens to appear on our radar near some traces of old Arwing wreckage? Yeah. It screamed 'trap'."

"But did he listen to me?" the pheasant snarked. "No. And it's not like he hasn't been baited like that before."

Fox bristled. "Can you blame me?"

"Nah, not really," Falco admitted. There was an interesting energy between the pair of them. The sort of bickering that comes when two Lylatians are very close to each other... intimately familiar with each other, with a deep well of care between them.

There was a curious mix of both interested pride, and possessive jealousy. Fox wasn't a child, of course, there was no reason to be leery of a potential boyfriend.

But why did the prospect of their bodies being pressed together, of a snout nuzzling a beak, of their gasps and groans, make him feel a whisper of jealousy... for being left out?

...in fact, why was he even thinking about that at all-?

"Father?"

"Hnh?"

"You're looking right through me. Are you okay?"

"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. Just sort of... reminiscing." James watched as one leg, then the other, was lifted into a thick space suit - it smelled like it had been mothballed for about a decade.

"Sorry, we don't use this all that much," Peppy said. "It's only for a few minutes, once we get back onto the Great Fox you're not gonna have to go out in space for a while!"

"Thanks, Peppy," James said as he eased his arms into the sleeves of the suit. It was a long, laborious process, and there wasn't much in the way of chatter. There was a sense that James wasn't quite ready for that - that he needed rest, first. He needed time for his mind and body to catch up after all those years of stasis.

When James' eyes were open, he kept seeking out Fox.

He was even more handsome than James hoped he'd turn out to be.

James was glad he wasn't at the helm. Just the idea of being in a cockpit, reminded him of the spreading cracks, the hiss of decompression, and space viciously trying to encroach...

He managed to keep his breathing under control, in spite of it all.

The Great Fox was in beautiful condition - Fox had been taking excellent care of it. After a short reunion with ROB, James was lead to one of the spare sleeping quarters. It almost seemed like a hotel room with how well it was laid out - the bed looked very soft, there was a holodesk to sit at, and plenty of space to stretch out.

"Did you make the room up just for your old man?" James asked.

"Would you be hurt if I said no?" Fox half-laughed.

"Not a chance in Venom." James gave Fox a half hug as he managed to sit himself down on the firm mattress. Fox sat in a chair in the room, staying close by.

"Can I stay?" Fox asked. "Just... want to make sure nothing goes wrong. Can I get you anything?"

"Unless you've got a spare pair of sunglasses, not really," James chuckled. Fox smiled back at him.

"You can stick around, though," James continued. "I think I'd love to hear what you've been up to for the last, what, decade of your life?"

Fox sat back and sighed, like he'd just shrugged off an invisible metal cape. He looked exhausted, but relieved.

"Well... all right. Where to start..."

-

James was only awake for about ten or so minutes. His eyes kept slipping closed, the vision of his son becoming an orange-brown blur, his voice becoming more and more distant as the call of sleep - real sleep, not a cryogenic coma - became impossible to ignore, or resist.

He didn't even realise he was asleep at first. Fox was still talking to him, his voice even and constant and reassuring.

James didn't realise it was a dream when Fox approached him, and he felt a lot more awake and alert. Not even when he noticed Fox was naked.

Fox's body was firm and toned - he was in better shape than James had been at his age, with a tight stomach and broad chest. His cock was thick, and dangled at half-mast between his legs, swinging like a pendulum as he approached.

James just stared, dumbfounded, at his son, even as Fox continued to speak, the words basically nonsense, as he knelt down in front of his father.

James was hard as well. And his hands moved to cradle Fox's face, pulling him closer to guide Fox's snout around his member. Warmth spread through James' body, and he moaned and bristled.

There was nothing shocking or unnatural about it at that moment. It was what his son did. James slid his hand through the fur on the back of Fox's head, and pushed him in closer as the father's thighs straddled the son's shoulders. Fox's tongue lathered and slid around James' shaft, back and forth with a methodical rhythm that reminded James of the dark clubs he used to bounce around in when he was young, and stupid, and horny. When he had the domineering confidence to tempt a twink back to his crappy flat and have them bury their snout in his crotch.

He blinked, and that was where he was all of a sudden. The peeling posters on the walls, the messy room, and his date bobbing up and down.

It was still Fox, of course. His green eyes stared up at him, dewy and deep and so full of need, that James couldn't stop himself from finishing. He grabbed the scruff of Fox's neck and held him in place, making him writhe and gulp and quiver with each thick throb.

"Goood, son," James growled. "That's my boy. That's my Fox..."

His son was doing such a good job at cleaning him off, polishing his tool with soft, submissive moans...

James woke to an empty room, and sticky sheets, his body musky from all the tossing and turning. He sat up, and groaned, feeling a slight crick in his back as he swung his still-slightly-atrophied legs over the side of his bed.

He had already forgotten his dream. Though he did want to see Fox again as soon as he could.

-

James took to rehab pretty quickly. Partly because Fox promised that he'd assist with more of it once James could take more than 20 steps on his own.

"We might even do some training exercises together. But you probably won't be able to beat me, just to warn you... Falco's been keeping me sharp."

Psh. Falco.

Fox was cocky. James felt a desire to fix that; even though they looked like they could be brothers, he was still the dad.

James' plans to humble his son motivated him to work harder, to get his arms and legs and mind back into peak condition. Just so he could match up with his boy, see how experienced he really was.

Those months were also spent catching up with Peppy, too. The gulf in age between them hadn't exactly been slight before, but... it was strange seeing him older, greyer, with paler, duller fur. They found themselves reminiscing about the good old days, before the betrayal. Dancing around the mention of Pigma, their old 'companion'. James felt the urge to spit whenever that swine's name came up.

Strangely, he didn't feel the same about his old rival, Wolf O'Donnell. Star Wolf had made a name for themselves too, it seemed; at the time, James thought of them as a poor knock off of what he was trying to do, to muscle in on his mercenary turf. He assumed it was due to how their relationship ended.

It was always going to be a brief one from his understanding - rummaging around each other's bodies, sweaty and steamy inside James' cockpit, or Wolf's. Their dicks pressed against each other as they frotted, nose to nose, not quite kissing but enough to get the taste of whiskey and smoke on each other's breath. The sort of intensity that comes with a clandestine quickie, unbeknownst to either of their partners.

When James' wife got pregnant, he broke it off. He didn't want to risk losing what would be the best thing to happen to his life.

Wolf was understandably pissed. But James was grateful that, at least, Wolf attempted to sabotage his professional life rather than his personal one.

Wolf was there at the funeral too, offering distant, silent support to the newly widowed fox with a week-old infant kit.

James had that in the back of his mind even now. He wondered what a catch-up with Wolf would look like. How much older he'd look. What he looked like with that eye-patch.

If he still drank and smoked.

The thoughts stayed with him well after Wolf was brought up, and wouldn't go away until James was alone, rubbing his dick and imagining that deep, gruff voice growling into his ear as he fucked him, remembering the squeak of his paws against the inside of the cockpit, the painful pleasure with each slap-

Until he poured out a weak anti-climax. He couldn't really slow down when these thoughts overtook him, no time to process or edge, to let it build up for a better climax. It was like picking at a scab - only superficially pleasurable, but mostly leaving the frustration intact.

Those dreams of Fox continued, too, vivid and lurid and achingly arousing. He wanted to explore every inch of his son, climb inside his head and make every part of him scream with pleasure. James wanted to bury his face in Fox's neck and bite down, imagining the moans and gasps he'd make.

Before too long he was orgasming several times a day. He'd wake up from a wet dream with a still hard cock, and immediately deal with that morning wood. He would speak with Fox and fixate on his lips, and get horny again, barely able to hide it. He'd idly think of Wolf and remember the warmth and texture of his body, then he'd be off again.

He was insatiable, like he was young and in heat all over again. And his thoughts almost exclusively revolved around Fox, and sometimes Wolf.

Just being around Fox was driving him subtly wild. It scared him, but also excited him.

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