The Search
#16 of Hockey Hunk Season 1
Standard disclaimer:
This is a furry adult story containing gay males in sexual situations as well as explicit language and descriptions. No kids are allowed so this story is only for those who are 18/21 or whatever the age is at your legislation. If you are not of the legal age, you shouldn't view this story because you might lose your innocence. Also, by browsing this story you have done so by your own consent and wish to view such material. if you do not wish to view such material you should leave this site immediately.
* Hello everyone, and welcome to the latest chapter! I have been buoyed by the warm welcome of the last chapter, so here's more fun for you all. Lots of interesting stuff happening today as always!
If you have any comments about the story, don't be afraid to drop a few words when you're done. It'll help me become a better writer. Faves and votes are also considered fantastic.
Enjoy!
*
Did I ever curse about Mondays?
Or Fridays?
I must have complained about Fridays, it's inevitable when you're in touch with Rory Gliese.
Well, guess what, Thursday is just as bad after an abortive attempt to acquire appreciation of a canine cocktease callously captivating cat's common conscience enough to make him brood in the back room of a bookstore and think in rhymes.
The hissing of the electric kettle from the other side of the room made my ears flick. A quick glance told me that Mason had progressed in his slow motion coffee-making and actually had the water boiling now.
I turned back to the shelf and slammed my oversized paws against the steel edge, causing the whole thing to rattle worryingly. For a little while I wouldn't have been surprised if an avalanche of paperback copies of Twilight would have come down on me. Thankfully, the piles of books survived my outburst and I remained safe...for now.
My tail trailed the floor limply as I walked along the long shelf, searching for a boxful of college textbooks I was supposed to put up to the floor today. I huffed and rubbed my neck and blinked and then yawned hard enough to make my jaw pop.
"Rory!"
My ears perked up.
"Yeah, what is it, Mason?" I called out without turning to face him.
"You want some coffee?" the wolf yelped back.
"Uh, yeah, sure!" I replied quickly. "Thanks!"
"No prob!"
I shuffled along the aisle between the shelves and still searched for the missing books.
Damn, wish searching for a Dobie was as easy as this, I thought as I ambled along and tried to find the correct box. My visit to the Ramrod had been a complete dud, and not only I had to survive back pickup attempts, I had also managed to drink enough of that strong cider to wake up feeling just a little bit hung over, which wasn't exactly conductive of a 6:30 wakeup call and an early shift at the bookstore. At least I didn't have an headache, but otherwise, my maw tasted like crap and I drank a whole carton of orange juice in the morning and already felt like I had to piss for the third time in 45 minutes, even if I went to the bathroom only 10 minutes ago. I bet coffee-drinking wasn't going to help much.
_ Oh, Victoriou, why art thou Victoriou... _
Oh Rouriou, oh Rouriou, why art thou fucking mad Rouriou...
I scratched my neck and huffed loud and hard enough to bare my teeth briefly. I was pissed off at the elusive books as much as at the elusive butt of the brown Dobie who had me by the balls, it seemed. Why else would I have gone as far as to go on a personal crusade to the Ramrod on the slim hope that I might actually end up seeing Victor in there? He didn't even go there often, he claimed.
Or maybe he went there every night and picked up a different guy every night...maybe that's why he had a whole drawer full of condoms for different species...Ursoplus Catnip, Ursoplus Neigh, Ursoplus Silver Bullet, Ursoplus Liar...
Hockey Hunk...right, maybe he didn't even play hockey. Maybe he played...racquetball! Gah!
I pulled out a damn heavy box from its self and peered into it quickly to make sure it wasn't the one I was looking for. It wasn't the one I was looking for.
"Coffee's ready, Rory!"
"Thanks!"
My ears flopped up and down while I zombied myself over to the coffee corner and took a readily offered mug from Mason and thanked him for it with a smile. The wolf settled down to his favourite seat on the old leather armchair opposite to the couch and I took my own usual place on the very same sofa. I collapsed down heavily and coiled my tail around my leg to keep it safe. A couple of days back I had accidentally stuffed it under the couch and it came back covered in all sorts of greasy crumbles and dust.
I sipped my instant coffee and watched Mason's bobbing head for a while, the always music-listening wolf once more at it. I wondered idly how he managed to keep the earplugs on even when flicking them so much while he listened.
"...haba haba...hujaza kibaba...haba haba...hujaza kibaba..."
My brow rose as I realized that the wolf was actually singing along to something. I couldn't help but chuckle as he kept muttering more gibberish under his breath, still swinging his tail along to the tune. Mason noticed my smirking and stopped, and he even clicked his MP3 player shut.
"What was that?" I asked, still smiling. "Some kind of...ethno music?"
Mason flicked a tall ear at me and shrugged.
"Nah, not really," the wolf mused, turning his coffee mug around in his paw, "just something that Haakon gave for me."
"Ahhh...," I nodded. "That lynx from...Norway, was it?"
"Yeah, he gave me this compilation record about something called the Eurovision or something and he told me to listen to it and it's weird."
"What is it?" my brow knit with puzzlement.
Mason snuffled.
"Something weird shit, man, it's like...uhh...like American Idol, but every country in Europe sends out a song to compete against the other countries, and it's like...out of this world."
"How so?" I asked, amused by the description so far.
"Well, it's beyond normal, Rory, it's like it doesn't have anything to do with real music. Everyone either sends a power ballad or a 1980's disco song, and it's all terrible."
"Or gibberish?" I suggested with a smirk.
"Bah, it was Swahili, I was listening to the Norwegian entry for this year."
I shook my head in disbelief.
"Swahili?" my years flicked. "But you said it was from Norway."
"Yeah, you can sing in any language you want. It's just the chorus in Swahili, though, the rest is in English," the wolf mused.
I scratched the side of my muzzle.
"And they keep doing it every year even if the music is all crap? Furs listen to it?" I asked.
"Yeah, guess it's kind of national madness that always strikes them, I guess. Haakon says that the whole country went mad when they won a couple of years back."
I sipped my coffee and chuckled again.
"Maybe they really just like competing," I suggested. "Or really like power ballads and terrible disco pop."
"According to Wikipedia, Abba won it back in the 1970's, so I suppose it has sometimes been good," Mason mused.
"Really now?" that was news to me.
"Yeah."
"Go Abba," I chuckled.
Mason drank his coffee and I mimicked him and I hoped that I would have the time to go to the bathroom before I would have to be up on the floor, behind the counter. I rubbed my eyes with my knuckles and huffed softly before settling my paws daintily on my lap again. It was too early in the morning and I had slept too little to be really up to full speed, though I had to admit that Mason's music madness had cheered me up a bit.
"Rough night, Rory?" the wolf asked me, suddenly.
I looked up to Mason again, frowning a little.
"What?"
"You just looked a bit more tired than usual, was wondering if you did anything special."
I rubbed my muzzle and tried to distract him with a chuckle and an ear flick.
"Went out for a drink," I decided that lying now might cause me to be caught later if I forgot my earlier lies, and as thus, I risked it and told the truth to the degree that I wanted to.
Mason's eyes lit up.
"Wow, how was it? Had fun?"
I was glad that he didn't put any special emphasis to the word "fun", and could again breathe a bit more freely.
"Just felt like having a drink out, it wasn't anything too special," I continued carefully.
"Partay-ay?" Mason smirked in his frat-wolfish way.
I chuckled against my better judgement, perhaps.
"Very small partay," I smiled for his benefit.
Mason flopped backwards on the chair and swished his tail about as he relaxed better into the confines of the leather armchair.
"Wish I could've gone, too."
"More studying?" I suggested with a smirk. "Or more herring?"
"Try more mom again," Mason's ears folded.
"Really, now?" I smirked at the very idea of the wolf being grilled by his parents.
"She was in town again and wanted to spend some quality time with her son," the said son didn't sound too eager about mom quality time. "We went shopping for 'neat and durable clothes' for me and then she wanted to go for a meal and it just took ages, Rory!"
"My condolences," I tried not to smile too broadly and as a result lifted my mug up to hide it from Mason with a fake sip.
"So, I took her to the train station around 9 pm and I was too tired to do anything except watch Frasier reruns and go to bed."
"Tough luck, man," I commented with a compassionate nod while laughing on the inside.
"Well, at least I'll have a better day tomorrow," Mason smiled now. "The new book's out."
"Ohh, right," my eyes flicked towards the pile of mysterious boxes on the other side of the room in which I knew the aforementioned books resided, before I looked at the wolf again. "But really, you didn't take a sneak peek?"
Mason tipped his head and chuckled.
"Nahh, I want to keep the excitement up to the last moment and do it like everyone else," the wolf spoke with conviction.
"Great job, man," I smiled at him.
"A shame I couldn't get a day off, but it's okay," Mason mused. "It'll just mean lots of Coke and a sleepless night but it's so worth it. I already reserved the special edition as soon as it was announced."
I was regretting my earlier sleepless night too much to really look forward to spending another one without proper sleep, but I mustered a nod for Mason, and a smile.
"Hope it stands up to all the buzz," I smiled.
"Well it ought to," the wolf smiled back.
We sat there in silence for a little bit longer, not talking except for Mason humming that odd song again under his breath. I delved into my life-saving coffee, only to be brought out of it by the sound of the steel door opening. My eyes caught a shadow in the green light of the EXIT sign before Marge's tawny form descended upon us from above. Her tail swung around in cheerful loops, enviously cheerful for the time, in fact, and she was as bouncy as always in her red duty shirt.
"Hey, boys!"
"Hey, sweetie," I rumbled from my crash position.
Marge wandered over to the corner table and poured herself some hot water before adding the coffee and stirring it energetically.
"Glad I could make it before the doors open," she spoke quickly. "Need some caffeine in the system, wasn't time to have any back home."
"Did you oversleep?" Mason asked, his frat ears tilting to the direction of the cougar.
"Nah, Goggy woke me up at five thirty," she snuffled. "He doesn't know how to get out of the bed quietly, so he always climbs over me and jams me with his elbow or his knee, or maybe smacks me with his tail. Big owie."
I shook my head briefly at the mental image of Marge's boobs getting squashed and shook my head again to drive the thought away.
Marge finished with her stirring and soon landed next to me on the couch. I don't know how she managed to do it without spilling any coffee.
"What're you two lazing around here, anyway?" she glared at us dudes with a mock pout.
"We're all finished up with the shelves, can't we have our coffee in peace?" I complained playfully, my tail flicking just as lazily as Marge implied us to be.
"Men," Marge snuffled.
"That's us," I teased.
Marge swigged down one half of her mug in one go and huffed deeply once she was done, looking like a very content cat indeed.
"Yeah, sure, I would've joined you later on if it wasn't for an executive phone call," her ears flicked.
"Huh?" Mason made the question before I had the time to open my maw.
"It was Mr. Albrecht," Marge replied. "The son, that is."
"Are we getting laid off?" I chuckled.
Marge's tail coiled around my ankle and gave it a tug before she retreated, smirking a little as she saw my surprised expression and flicky ears.
"No, but we're having a guest," the cougar spoke, lounging back on her half of the couch as if it was a luxurious divan, "Apparently the author of the Caledon Rocks books is going on a book tour to promote the new instalment and his publicist has singled out us for a signing next week."
Mason almost spat out of his coffee as he heard Marge's words, but he also jumped off the armchair and stood there, ears and tail flicking madly around as he stared at the cougar.
"Lord Mistwillow's coming here?!?!"
Marge snickered.
"Yeah, I guess that's the name of the guy," she replied.
Mason's tail drew zigzags in the air behind him as he stood there, taunt and excited.
"When is he coming?"
"Oh, he's going to be here on next Thursday," Marge mused.
"Wow, man!" Mason chimed. "That's awesome! I've always wanted to get my first editions autographed. Wow! Woooooooooooooooooow!"
I chuckled and turned my gaze from the going-nuts Mason to Marge now.
"So, we're getting an author visit...any special arrangements?" I hoped this didn't mean plenty of extra job for the innocent staff members just like myself.
"Just have to put up a few posters advertising the book signing, and provide a table and a quiet corner where he can sit and chat with the fans," Marge replied, "the publicist is going to call me next week to arrange for the last details."
"Okay..."
"It's not going to be anything too big, I mean, we're not talking about Tom Clancy here."
"Or Rowling, " I chuckled.
"Or Meyer."
"Or Stephen King."
"How didn't I know of this before...," Mason rubbed his face with his knuckles as he paced around, tail flicking from side to side as the agitated wolf spoke to himself.
"It was only agreed yesterday between Mr. Albrecht and the publisher," Marge noted.
Mason didn't seem to like the answer.
"But I didn't even know he's coming to town!"
I chuckled.
"Didn't you go on last week about how you couldn't even go to any of the fan sites because they were so full of leaked spoilers?" I postulated with a grin.
Mason snuffled.
"Yeah, I guess...oh man...I gotta tell Haakon, he's a big fan..." the wolf was already digging up his phone as he spoke.
I turned to look at Marge and gave her a toothy cat smile, and she smiled back.
"He's like a cub at Christmas," Marge smiled. "Who would have thought?"
I nudged her shoulder with mine and flicked my ears happily.
"You knew it quite well, didn't you?" I smirked.
"Mayyyybe," Marge slurred.
"Haakon! Hej, det är Mason här, ursäkta mig för jag vaknar du upp, men du inte trots vad jag har för att saga..." the wolf muttered excitedly near the pile of Caledon Rocks boxes, holding his phone up to his ear as he sung Germanic into it, much to Marge's and my amusement.
"They even have their own secret language," I smiled and tilted my head and smirked annoyingly.
"Bromance is soooo sweet," Marge beamed.
I chuckled and deep on the back of my mind wished that I had some gaymance, too.
*
The rest of the day was decisively less exiting, if you didn't count a hyperactive squirrel customer breaking havoc at the Purple Prose Perennials section, or Marge almost accepting a hunky lion's offer for a drink. Mason going ballistics over the prospect of meeting one of his favourite writers didn't go unnoticed, either. Whenever I saw him on his station on the downstairs counter, I saw him tapping his phone excitedly, probably sending another geeky text for his friend. He had even forgotten to wear his MP3 plugs, so that was something serious alright.
_ Haba haba... _
I was still happy to see Crystal's towering form appearing in the shop once the time was nearing for my shift to end. We exchanged smiles and greetings in the locker room and I left the shop, mingling into the flow of furs going on their business on town. Sun was still pretty high and it wasn't as cold as it had been a few weeks before, so I decided to walk over a couple of blocks before catching the bus. I sat there on the plastic seat, a pensive figure of lionhood as I stared out of the window and wondered if there ever was going to be a big romance movie moment where I'd suddenly notice Victor walking down the curb and I'd get up and shout "STOP! THIS! BUS!" or maybe pull the emergency brake. I wasn't sure if busses had emergency brakes, though, but it made the image more cheesy, so I left the emergency brake in, and decided that I would jump out of the sliding doors and crash to the curb. Then I would run through the crowd yelling after the Dobie and then there would be this big slo mo moment when we'd just stare at each other through the dwindling distance and his ears would pick up and...
...and I had missed my stop, and I again had to walk a couple of blocks over to make it to my apartment. I felt slightly chilly once I fumbled for my keys in the hallway, and the musky friendliness of my small place was more than welcoming after a long day at work. I had a quick shower, enjoying the hot air of the dryers before wrapping myself in a towel. Newly topless lion I was, eager to scratch my damp belly when I grabbed a soda from the fridge and propped myself up next to the computer and checked my email and Facebook.
I smiled at the latest wall update that was adorned by a nice picture of a familiar cougar.
Peter Sinclair _ *Just finished a 6-mile run, sure nice to have a good shower and relax after a good workout. Not as good a workout as the one I had last weekend, but can't always run a marathon, right? Craving for a bloody steak now...though that's nothing new. Any tips on controlling food cravings? Wishes soon-to-be-flabby cougar. * 4 hours ago. Like Comment_
I was pretty sure that my butt had been involved in the implied marathon on the message, and as such, I clicked both the "Like" button and the "Comment" button and quickly typed:
"Had some workout last weekend, too, legs a little bit sore still from all that. Thanks for being such a hard-pushing runner, Peter. ;)"
I considered whether the wink smiley was too much, but I decided to leave it in and accepted my comment, and soon it appeared underneath Peter's joke, and I felt a bit better for it, too. At least the cougar sounded like he was in good spirits, and that made me smile, too, and feel good and a little bit warm in the heart place. That cougar sure knew how to make you smile, he always did that to me, and to most people he knew, and he was there.
_ Haba haba... _
If that was Peter Sinclair, you couldn't say the same about the mysterious Victor Terrence Holden whom had simply disappeared without a trace.
I reminded myself again that I shouldn't even be thinking about the one night Dobie, but despite that clear, conscious thought, something nagged to me that he had said that he'd like to do it again. While I wasn't opposed to the idea of maybe having coffee together and then some - he did offer some more that kind of company, I was pretty damn sure of that, so I didn't have any delusion about what kind of hot coffee we might be having with the infamous Dobie Victor.
I stared at the laptop screen and rubbed my chin, letting my gaze go blurry.
Damn Victor Holden.
_ Haba haba.... _
I wasn't the obsessive type, I really wasn't, I knew when a no was a no, and when someone wasn't interested.
But Victor was interested...so why not...?
My pawfingers tapped the worn surface of the desk and I huffed roughly, wondering why the hell I was wondering about Victor.
My paws were moving even before I was thinking consciously, clicking on the search box and typing in the name.
Victor Terrence Holden.
**_Haba haba
Fucking Mason and his earworm music._**
I snuffled as I hit the "GO" button, already about to curse myself when Facebook returned me one match.
My tail almost tied itself into a knot and my jaw dropped as I stared at the name and the miniature picture next to it, showing a mug shot kind of a picture of a Dobie wearing eyeglasses and who could not be mistaken for anyone except a certain male called Victor.
My paws felt clammy as I clicked on the picture, opening up Victor's personal page. My heart hammered against my chest when I browsed the sparse detail that was visible for non-friends, taking in the fact that he belonged to a NCIS fan group and liked easy listening music. There was also a bigger version of the picture I saw earlier, and I couldn't help but think that Victor looked pretty good on it, with the geeky specs and all. He looked positive bored, too, as if he'd thought the picture to be a completely redundant feature. He wasn't smiling or anything, simply stared straight ahead of him. There was even a little bit of a glare from the camera flash on his lenses.
There was also the all too enticing "Send a note" button. My mouse pointer hovered above it in no time, but there I stopped, my ears flattening as I took a moment to think about it. Was it really Victor I wanted to see, or was it the very idea of him that had got me all messed up during the past couple of weeks? Did I want the Dobie, or the idea of a handsome stranger? What was it? Could this be worth it?
I decided that there was absolutely nothing I could loose, so I clicked the button and composed a quick message.
Hi, it's Rory, I found your message on my phone and decided to check up whether you still thought we might maybe see each other again, like you said. Hope this isn't too stalkerish, looking you up like this. Didn't know how else to do it, so yeah, this is Rory, from the Ramrod, hope you are okay.
I took a final deep breath and sent the message into cyberspace. I had taken my chances now, and it was up to the Dobie to decide what to do next.
I snuffled and went over to the kitchen to make a corned beef sandwich while my tail and my heart were doing things I didn't really want them to be doing. I felt giddy for God's sake, almost wanting to succumb to the most modern sin of them all, to checking Facebook every 2 minutes to see if there were any updates.
I munched on my juicy sandwich and checked Facebook, and went by the bathroom and checked Facebook. I sat on the couch and put the television on, and watched the news for a couple of minutes before switching to another channel where a rerun of Frasier was starting. I watched that for a little bit and then went to check Facebook. I considered putting on some shorts and a T-shirt, maybe, but I decided that being naked wasn't too bad, and scratched my balls instead. The hefty hangers jingled nicely against my palm while I purred and gave them a really good scratch, just as I padded around the small apartment, listening to the canned laughter and going to check Facebook.
Maybe Victor was one of those furs who only checked it once a week, or something, I decided once I had no updates and went back to the couch to continue my naked television-watching. Maybe he only checked it once a day, and had already gone to bed. Maybe he'd pick it up in the morning, and just when I was getting up, there'd be a new message from a Victor Holden asking me to be Facebook friends and then maybe something else.
Just maybe.
_ Haba haba... _
Frasier went to a commercial break and I contemplated whether to remain crashed on the couch and keep scratching my balls or check Facebook.
What the hell...
I got up, let my tail flop down and stood by the desk, not even bothering to sit down as I refreshed my profile and found a new message.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
I stared on the screen almost hypnotically as I clicked on the little icon and brought up the note, my eyes widening as I read.
Hi, Rory, wassup? Thx for the message, if you fancy a chat, just add me up and I should be around during the evenings, if you want to catch up. Victor.
Oh my fucking God...
I wondered whether right at the moment Victor was sitting in front of his computer, that familiar laptop, and wondering when I would answer to his message, if ever.
_ "Bwhahaahahahahahahahaahahahah!" _
More canned laughter chimed away from the television when I clicked the friend request button and simply sat there quietly, naked and staring at the computer screen with my name and photo on it, and the wall update from Peter along with my cheeky comment to it.
Come on...come on...
My claws were almost making grooves on the tabletop as I slumped down and stared at the screen, my eyes going almost bleary with it. I felt a bit foolish for it, to be honest, getting this worked up over something that still wasn't really serious. He was just a random guy I met once and had random sex with, and who knows, maybe we'd do it again. Just maybe. I couldn't even say hopefully. I only could say -
_ Victor Holden says: Hi there ;)_
*
TO BE CONTINUED
Thanks for reading the story, hope you all Victory shippers are squeeing now, or making really masculine grunts, alternatively.
As for anyone still puzzled over the Eurovision Song Contest, here's a clip that explains it perhaps better than anythng else. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T9rJLtz64Hg
if you have any comments about the story, please drop a few words! It'll help me to become a better writer.
Cheerio 'n seeyou soon!