FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

WARNING: This story is not finished, and I'm not sure it ever will be finished, so don't get too attached to the characters.

This is something I wrote back in 2009, and I've always liked how it turned out, though I haven't been able to continue it since then despite several attempts. There's a vague plot buried in it somewhere, but it's very hard to get a pawhold on. But I do like it, and :iconFrosted-Fur: reminded me of it, so I thought I'd post it so people could see it. Who knows, maybe I'll come back and finish it someday.

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Chapter 1

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Wasting time hanging on a streetcorner with a bunch of guys he shouldn't know, but did. That was how they met.

Late at night and they were all smoking near the middle of town, trying to think of somewhere to go. But not trying too hard. If something came, it came, if else they had enough chance to fuck around and insult each other. He wouldn't call them friends, this little white-furred rat, looking ill-suited to his sagging hoodie and worn jeans, though he had never worn a polo, looking as though he should be unfamiliar with the cigarette in his paw, though his body language proved otherwise.

He wouldn't call them friends, because none of them were. He didn't know why he was with them, other than that they stood on the same corner and he knew their names. What they wanted from each other he couldn't fathom.

The malamute caught his eye as might a blade of green in a dirt lot, for he broadcast something genuine in a sea of false presumption. An earnest honestness and a kind of dangerous energy crackled around his form, a serious glare and a wall of strength hung under his heavy brow. His clothes looked new, a nice t-shirt that fit him well, a shining leather jacket, loose jeans and ankle-height workboots. He was tall, and looked somewhat older than the others, in his mid twenties as opposed to their late teens.

One of the rat's companions, a feline with a pinched face, whistled a little as the malamute approached. "Look sharp, boys, there's a fancy puppy prancing by."

The malamute paused as he passed them and looked to the cheetah, who was regarding him with a look of contempt. "Seems to me the kitty's a bit over-used to his dingy surroundings."

The cat's grin soured. "And who are you to judge me? I ain't got time to waste preenin' myself when there's weed to smoke and bitches to fuck."

The malamute eyed the cat's cigarette. "You look to be a bit short on luck with each, unless your ursine friend there with the tits has a hormonal imbalance."

The third member of the group, a scruffy mutt nothing like the well-dressed canine, began to snicker at the heavyset bear, who shrugged and puffed on his cigarette apathetically.

"'Least I got a fag instead a lookin like one," the cheetah shot back, blowing smoke in the malamute's face. "So women aren't your type, are they?"

The canine barely blinked. "I'm not the one standing on a streetcorner like a prostitute. I prefer... less desperate methods of getting laid." The mutt cackled.

While the two exchanged insults and the dog and bear spectated, the rat was slightly apart, leaning against the nearest building. He was watching too, in a sense of the word; the sense that he was looking at the malamute and couldn't look away. He found himself holding his breath each time the canine opened his mouth, eyes tracing the lines of his pink tongue and white teeth, then sliding down the highlights of his jacket and the rough folds of his jeans to where they piled around his ankles. His face was ice-white inamongst black tufts, appearing an almost perfect gradient from this distance; the contrast set the rat's spine and breath to shivering. His eyes were a yellow shade of green, the green of pond scum and first leaves. Only when the cheetah started yelling was he drawn out of his reverie.

"--so look, shitfucker, I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but I'm not going to put up with your fucking attitude, hear me?! It better change. Fast."

The malamute took a step forward, slowly. There was something in his eyes before, the others present now realised; something that was gone now, leaving only a hard, frightening apathy in its wake. The cheetah involuntarily stepped back, and tried to recover, but the malamute stepped forward again, pressing him back until he was against the wall, and the malamute's paw was against his chest.

"All right, kitty. Listen to me." The malamute's voice had gone soft and rough. "It was fun while it wasn't serious. Don't make it... tiresome." His claws dug into the cat's shirt, catching fibres and tugging them out of line. "I'm so terribly bored already..."

The cheetah gulped. The malamute threw him aside with a scoff, and he nearly fell. Trying to recover his bravado, he brushed himself off and looked uncomfortably to the bear, to see the latter sneer at him a bit from behind his cigarette. The mutt was shivering, no longer laughing, watching the malamute stride away with obvious cowardice.

The rat watched him as well, then slowly lowered his cigarette and dropped it, grinding it out with one foot. He took a step. Then another. Then he was walking, and that was it. He was following the malamute.

It took him five minutes to catch up with the fast-moving canine. He didn't look back to see the reactions of his erstwhile friends, mostly because he didn't think of it until he was around the corner, and even then it wasn't an important thought.

The malamute likely heard his steps not long after he left the group, but waited until the rat was about ten feet behind him before finally stopping and turning.

"Much braver than your kitten friend, aren't you, little mouse?"

"He wasn't my friend."

"Oh?" The malamute shifted. "What's your name, little mouse?"

"Kyle."

The malamute gave him a little smile, making the rat's head spin. "Really? Not going to lead me on? Play games with me? See what I'm up to?"

Kyle just looked at him, uncertain.

The malamute sighed, seeming to lose interest. "You really are new to this, aren't you? Can't say I'm surprised, considering your previous company, but it's... disappointing. What do you want, kid?"

The rat looked at him uncertainly. "I'm not sure."

"I'm not going to figure it out for you." The malamute started to walk again, and the rat pursued him. The canine paced down the block stiffly, annoyance crackling in his countenance, until he reached a motorbike up against the curb, leaning on its kickstand, helmet hanging on the handle. Acquiescing, in a way, he turned back to the rat. "Kid. Why are you following me?"

Kyle looked at him. "I want to be like you."

The malamute laughed in spite of himself. "How old are you, twelve?"

"I'm seventeen."

"Act like it, then. You're bloody naïve. And figure out what you want with that company." He eyed the rat's clothing. "And that image."

"I know what I want."

"Then go for it." The malamute turned and took his helmet off the handlebar.

"I am going for it." Kyle spoke the words softly, with a slight edge that made the malamute pause, then turn back slowly. Green eyes met dark ones, and the malamute got the sense that Kyle wasn't speaking about image or company.

Slowly, the malamute leaned back against his bike. "All right. Fair enough. I suppose we were all new to it once. I know I was."

"What's your name?" Kyle asked. He still stood a little stiffly, seeming ill at ease, looking so awkward that the malamute had to smile.

"It's James, mouseyboy."

"Why did you take that cheetah's bait?"

"You speak as if you hardly know him."

The rat shook his head slightly, dismissively. "Why, though? You could have just ignored him."

James eyed him, tracing the spikes of soft white fur running down his triangular muzzle. His eyes were large and deep brown around jet black and glossy pupils, the difference between the two hues barely discernable. His large ears somehow made his head look small and bare, in kind of a soft, fragile way. He nearly fed the kid bullshit. But damn, there was something about him, something compelling in those dark eyes. And besides, he was kind of enjoying watching how the rat behaved, so hesitant and uncertain. He decided not to shove the kid off quite yet. After all, where was the harm in having some fun?

"I have a very low tolerance for social hypocrites."

The rat blinked in a manner of not understanding.

"People who say things to other people that would offend them if they had received it. You saw how the cheetah reacted when I pointed out that he didn't have weed or bitches."

"He took a shot at your masculinity."

"Despite the fact that I don't look like a fag."

The rat raised an eyebrow. "That's not a very objective opinion."

The malamute snorted with laughter. "All right, then, what do you think?"

"I think you're one of the handsomest men I've ever seen," the rat said without hesitation.

The malamute's smile faded a little, and he hesitated, then ducked his head quickly, trying to think how to recover. The rat, however, had seen the faint blush rising on his nose.

"See? The objective opinion agrees with my own," he said after a moment, before looking up, grinning a bit, all trace of embarrassment gone. "And I'm confident any woman would choose me over that cheetah." He tilted his head back and preened a little. "See, that's what I'm talking about, about social hypocrites. They don't think before they say things, or else they don't care if what they say is obvious B.S."

Kyle shifted. "I think before I say anything. I guess that's what makes me different from the company I keep. I never say things unless I really mean them."

James smiled at him a bit. "You're a good kid, then."

The two fell silent for a moment. Kyle looked down at the ground, shivering a bit in his thin hoodie, then looked back up, quiet. Almost like he was waiting. Anticipating. To James, the moment seemed to grow awkward, and he looked down at the rat's feet, trying not to blush again. He couldn't let the kid see him blush, he couldn't let him see how large an effect he was having.

"Um..." James looked up, leaning back on his bike casually. "...do you wanna spend some time with me?"

Kyle smiled a little. "I'd enjoy that, I think."

The malamute smiled a bit, uncomfortably. Do you want to spend some time with me? God, that sounds like a pickup line... I really need to get ahold of myself. Maybe if I take him somewhere with chicks, I can cool off for a bit.

Buckling his helmet on his head, the malamute swung his leg over his bike. "Get on, then. I don't have my other helmet with me, so don't fall off."

Kyle obediently climbed onto the back of the bike, and James shivered a little as he felt the younger rat press against him from behind, wrapping his arms around the canine's torso in an almost-hug. I get the feeling this night is going to be full of bad ideas.

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Chapter 2

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The bike roared down the interstate, James pushing it for all it was worth in an attempt to ignore the five-years-younger rat he'd picked up from god knows where - was it bad that he couldn't even remember what had happened fifteen minutes ago? - clinging to him. He'd realised many miles back that the faster he went, the tighter Kyle hung onto him, the buffeting wind pushing his white headfur out of his eyes and making his ears fold back behind him. He wondered, as he swerved around passenger vehicles and trucks, sliding in and out of headlights in the dark, why this realisation did not cause him to slow down.

"I'm not sure, but it feels right..."

James squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, dispelling the voice. Where the hell did that come from? He hadn't thought of those words in years, and so much the better.

He could feel the rat's paws, low on his torso, about level with his navel, fitting inside the open front of his jacket, against his thin t-shirt. He was sure Kyle could feel when his abs twitched reflexively. It was a good thing he hadn't had the mouseyboy sit in front of him. He could feel the rat's head press against his shoulderblade when he revved the engine - he did it a lot. His fluffy tail was uncomfortably curled to the side because the rat was so close, but he didn't mind that, and the feeling made him think of the rat's little bare tail whipping behind the bike like a hyperactive snake, bringing a grin to his face.

He cut across five lanes of traffic to reach the exit he wanted, just to see what the rat would do. The kid gripped him tighter, sending shivers down his spine, but he also stuck his head over the malamute's shoulder, and James caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. He looked absolutely thrilled - he was nearly laughing, a huge grin showing his little rodentine fangs, no part of his appearance revealing fear.

James had to brake rather hard to stop in time for the light at the top of the exit ramp, and suddenly the wind was no longer deafening him, and he could hear the rat panting in his ear over the low rumble of the engine. He chuckled a bit. "Don't give yourself a heart attack back there."

Kyle responded by giving him a big lick, from his jawline up to the base of his ear, the simplest way to express his satisfaction. The malamute tilted his head a bit in reflex, having expected absolutely anything but that. He felt his face burning, looked down out of habit, though the rat couldn't see him. Jeez, that's the second time tonight he's made me blush.

The thing about it was, he'd told the rat to act his age. But Kyle was acting his age - the lick wasn't one of little-kiddish glee, it was affectionate, it was an adult gesture, and that was why it made the malamute so uncomfortable. The only other adults who'd ever licked him even somewhat like that were women in various states of disrobing. It felt awkward, too personal, even though the two were fully clothed, in public, and newly acquainted. And both male, he reminded himself. But it wasn't an overtly sexual gesture, so he couldn't really protest. Not that he wanted to.

The light was green before another awkward moment could settle around the two of them (or at least the malamute, the rat had a half-on smile that seemed impossible to dispel), and the bike jetted off onto the smaller state highway through suburbia, passing shopping centres and grocery stores, then reaching midtown, and the club-slash-restaurant-slash-bar the malamute had in mind. He'd been here often enough, and picked up enough nightly companions here to have it relatively shortlisted when he was feeling lovelorn. Or felt he needed to, to avoid... distractions. He climbed off his bike, and the rat half-followed, half-walked-beside him; he was conscious of the other as he paced towards the club.

Then, suddenly, the malamute stopped. What the fuck was he doing, taking this guy to a club? Jesus. This was a date. And that would be evident to anyone who saw them.

Turning abruptly, he faced the rat. "I changed my mind. Wanna get coffee instead?"

Kyle took up a grin. "I don't care where we go. You never told me where we were headed in the first place."

Damn, that's right. He could have smoothly turned off toward the coffeeshop at the end of the block, if he'd remembered, but now it was out there that there was some issue with them going to a club. Together. The malamute walked off without another word, getting ahead of the rat so that he could blush again.

Regaining enough of his mind to be thankful that Starbucks was on every corner, including the one nearest the club he'd nearly gone to, he entered the shop and paused to eye the menu. It was quiet in the store, there were only two other people engrossed in the free wifi, and the lizard behind the counter looked overjoyed at the prospect of anyone to distract him from whatever he was scrubbing.

"What d'ya want?" James asked, a little gruffly.

Kyle shrugged. "You order for me."

The canine looked at him in surprise. "Why would you want me to do that? I dunno what you like..."

"That makes it more interesting." The rat grinned at him, the grin almost little-kid-ish in its excitement, but once again James saw something off about it, something that showed it wasn't a young expression at all, rather one he doubted he would make involuntarily. Not that he was that much older. It was little darker, a little slyer and more cynical, but still a bright grin, and at him.

The malamute hesitated, then stepped uncomfortably up to the counter, the rat trailing behind. The lizard smiled professionally at him. "What can I get you?"

"Uh..." The malamute huffed a little. "Um. Two venti white chocolate mochas, one peppermint and one vanilla." He tried to catch the rat's reaction without blatantly turning or twitching his ears, but if Kyle revealed an iota of response, the canine missed it.

James was nearly bouncing with nervousness by the time he had paid and the reptile had crunched and steamed and squirted up their creations, flicking his fluffy tail back and forth more like a cat than a dog, rocking forward onto the balls of his feet, then back onto his heels. The lizard (whose nametag, incidentally, read 'Xandré') passed their drinks onto the counter, grinning a little in a friendly manner, then returning, with evident melancholy, to his scrubbing. The husky, in a sudden fear of clumsiness, picked both drinks up very carefully, then passed one to his companion. Kyle took it with both hands and hit him with a smile.

"It's hot," James said in utter pointlessness, uncomfortably close to blushing again.

The rat gingerly raised it to his lips, slowly took a sip. His eyelids twitched a little, lowering just a bit, and he immediately took another, larger sip, then lowered it, licking his lips slowly as he looked up at the malamute.

"It's good."

James smiled, and the rat smiled back. The two sat down at the closest table out of instinct. It bothered James a little that it was a two-person table; sure, they were two people, and it would be silly to take up a four-person table, but it made them look more like a couple, sitting together like this, something he was trying desperately to avoid. At least he hadn't taken the rat to a club. Where he'd gotten that idea...

...Although in retrospect, taking Kyle to a coffee shop and buying him something wasn't all that much less date-ish, only less committed.

Kyle was sucking up his drink at a rather alarming rate, while James sipped at his, not as eager to drink it as he thought he would be. His nerves were rattled enough without the caffeine. He grinned a bit, though. "That good, mmh?"

Kyle gave him another smile, one of those smiles. "Peppermint's my favourite flavour."

"I'm a good guesser, then?"

"Very."

The two drank in silence for a moment.

"So what's your story?" the canine asked.

Kyle looked up at him, confused. "I didn't know I had one."

"Sure you do. What's your life like? Are you still in school? Come on, talk to me."

The mouse smiled. "You want to learn more about me?"

Damn. There he went again. The blush came up so fast this time that James couldn't even duck his head, not that it would have helped at this close distance, in the brightly lighted interior of the coffee shop. What the hell is this kid doing to me? "N... never mind, then."

Kyle didn't seem to notice his blush, though there was no way he couldn't see it. Ignoring the canine's last words, he responded happily. "I'm still in school. A bit. Enough to pass. I think. Graduate this year. Not that it matters."

Kyle was highly reluctant to ask more of him, after the characterisation his inquiries had been given. But after a moment of awkward silence (which, again, the rat did not seem to find awkward at all), he conceded he really did want to learn more about the rat.

"What after?"

"Dunno. Maybe community college. Probably not. More likely just... leave. Try and find somewhere I fit in."

"That's not here?"

Kyle gave him a strange look "Of course not. This place is..." He shook his head.

The malamute waited a moment. "What?"

"Eh?"

"What were you going to say?"

The rat shook his head. "Never mind. I just don't like it here. Need to get out somewhere, out west or something. Then I'll figure things out, get my head clear."

"Oh." James sipped his coffee quietly, watched Kyle sip his. After a few moments, the rat caught his eyes, and both slowed their drinking, and finally stopped.

James found himself unable to look away from the rodent's chocolate-brown eyes, caught up like a fly in a spider's web. And he had the sudden feeling, from the cool, placid expression on the rodent's face, that much like a spider, Kyle had constructed this entrapment with a plan in his head, a goal.

He couldn't blush again. That would be conceding defeat, and if he did that...

The rat sucked on his coffee, breaking his hold on the tangibly uncomfortable canine. "Let's get out of here," he said quietly.

"Wh... and go where?" James asked, baffled, a little afraid.

"Anywhere. I don't care." The rat stood as he said it, and then turned just enough to catch the canine's eye. "It's your motorcycle."

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I have a fragment of the beginning of chapter 3, but it's very vague and uncertain, so I'll leave it out.

Does anyone else see a proto-Brad here? I guess I've always had a thing for sexy dominant canine guys with tough-guy streaks and possible buried issues. The prevalence of those ideas in furry writing, and society at large (at least the latter bit about tough guys with issues) has only served to reinforce that. I feel like Brad's a lot more developed as a character, though; I understand a lot more of his motivations and the way his brain works. Also, gah, I write so many guys on dates in coffee shops. You can tell how much of my brain is reserved for thinking about coffee.

Anyway, there's that! Hope it was a fun read, particularly seeing what my style was like back in 09 - a bit different from today, and I was definitely having lots of trouble with plot and focusing on description too much. However, I did only a tiny bit of editing on this before posting it, so I certainly don't malign the quality of my work in this period.