FURtual Events
This story was conceived 18 months ago, with the whole story set up in bullet points. However, studies and paranoia over the importance of my work caused the process to halt. Over the past month, I have had demands for me to finish this story, and I have complied. Eleven pages long, it does not actually have hardcore scenes, which I hope doesn't disappoint my readers.
FURtual Events is the sequel to my 2006 work, Chemiluminescence. I suggest you read this before reading this one to fully understand the content. This piece has only been proofread for formatting [27/01/09]. If there are major errors, note it down and I'll sort it out. Criticism must be very constructive if you want to make some, like how a section [or story layout, grammar, etc.] should be improved alongside your opinion on the story as a whole.
So this is what it really felt like to be there!
After many months of saving hard earned cash, and also taking on the role of chief negotiator when it came to the matter of his work supervisor, the train company, and the hotel he wanted to stay in, he finally did it! He looked around the small foyer of the hotel he was now in; there wasn't much of interest bar the two people dressed in professional fursuits guarding a set of double doors. He knew what this meant, and while he made his way to approach the duet, he checked his pockets; rummaging for a small slip of laminated card that wasn't too hard to find - it paid to travel light! The nervous, yet excited one stood next to the person who was guarding the right hand door; a 7 foot arctic fox, and offered his card with what was now becoming a shaky hand.
The tall fox softly took the card, and examined it. To the nervous human below, this was somewhat comforting; the brief stroke of a fuzzy paw against his hand calmed him down. The laminated card was standard credit card size, and contained a brief set of details about the owner; Spike the Sea Green Dragon, before leaving room for a printed avatar picture of the furry on the right hand side. Regardless of what was written, all that was important was the hologram on the back, showing that Spike really did pay his entrance fee, and that he was entitled to Basic Spectator rights to the three day furry convention. The fox just couldn't help but take a more analytical eye at the details, and gave the card back to the quivering human soon afterwards. The other fursuiter, who was in a brown bear costume that resembled more of a dark teddy than that of its woodland counterpart, tapped the shoulder of the white fox and mimed in a form of sign language to enquire if there was any problem, but his furry partner just shook their head and opened their muzzle, crafted for the benefit of articulation.
"A Sea Green Dragon, eh? Not everyday you meet a sea green something, let alone one being a dragon. Why you shaking there, hon?"
Spike breathed deep to try and pluck up some courage to respond, still visibly shivering, "I-It's just my first time being in a new part of my country. Umm...also...". He looked at both of the guards as he spoke, seeing that the bear was being cheeky by impersonating his nervous, shaky state. The fox just nodded and extended a paw, ended up on Spike's head; the soft feel of white furry material calming him down again. With the paw again creating an aura of calm over him, Spike looked at the doors in order to find the handle and escape this awkward situation.
"It's your first time?" the fox asked curiously as the other fuzzy paw opened the door. With the gaze of the white fursuit returning to the human, the muzzle continued, "Heck, we've all had our first times, sugar. All I can say is enjoy it - you'll never forget your first furcon. The door's open for ya; I don't need any ID off you, you seem legit".
Spike smiled in relief, and took the paw that was petting him just a few seconds ago, shaking it in a desperately friendly gesture, "Than-Thank you, Mr. Fox" and made his way past the doors...
"That's Mrs. Fox to you, you cheeky muntz! I'm a vixen...now git!". She picked up her limp tail and swung it upon the departing Spike, causing him to blush and dash off in a fit of embarrassment, plus the bear exaggerating a titter that only a fursuit could allow. The vixen saw this clearly and changed her target, "...and you can stop it as well! You made the same mistake when you first met me!". As angry as she sounded, inside the heavy clothing, she was tittering herself. Poor kid...
The furry convention, FURtual Existence, had been a UKFur annual event since 2003, established as the result of a dare made in one of those trendy wine bars in New York. Furries in the US that wanted to take advantage of the current boom were getting fed up of their pilgrimages only going as far as Philadelphia, and demanded something to be done about it. FURtual was hosted at about the same time around the middle of April, and was always at the same business-orientated hotel in Birmingham. The hotel dedicated three very large halls to the conference, and therefore could fit in a sociable 1000 people without any trouble. Despite the large population that could be accommodated downstairs for the conference, the rooms upstairs only had the capacity to bed 750, leaving many to find their own sleeping space. Spike was one of the unlucky ones, but he wasn't worried. In an act of sheer luck, the local Youth Hostel had enough space to allow him a bed for the weekend, so was safe overnight. However, this also gave him the freedom to bunk with someone else, should the social opportunity arise; this was a preferable scenario.
Spike smiled as he looked around the massive hall. There was a major surge of excitement, as he could see activity everywhere - one half was a plethora of stalls, selling things from customised collars, to the collectable comics and merchandise; many perusing the bounty laid out on the tables. The other half being more of a calm atmosphere, with artists gripping their A3 sketchbooks and using their toolkits of stationary to make quick commissions; some cartoony, some questionable, and some on the downright yiffy. As much as this room excited Spike, he didn't find much interest in spending most of his budget on the first day, so he slinked along the pathway to get to the second set of double doors, leading to a fursuit showcase.
This hall was used for the roughly two hundred fursuiters, who were frolicking about for entertainment. Of course, there were those who made it their life's mission to stalk anyone who so much as wore a prosthetic tail, wishing they could soon become like them, but this room wasn't just for both of these types; it was actually a social forum. Anybody who just so happened to be left on their lonesome would be soon be scooped up in the paws of a friendly oversized paw and be hugged and mingled to oblivion...at least that was what Spike was hoping for. He looked around at the talent. There were many examples of craftsmanship in the suits â€" from the professional, with perfect hand stitching and seamless continuity throughout all the body, to the beginner's scale, generating a suit with off the shelf items. One that caught the eye of Spike was that of a dragon that resembled the Soup Dragon from The Clangers, which led him laugh softly, especially since he could see blue wool hanging off its muzzle. Said dragon was occupied, but that brief moment of distraction and amusement allowed the opportunity for someone to approach him from behind, only stopping to speak at point blank range:
"Rrr...hi there, cute arse!". Spike jumped in surprise and turned around quickly, not knowing whose voice it was.
The figure that had such an instant opinion of Spike's butt was a six foot rabbit...he assumed so, since the costume wasn't very well done. A crude grey jumpsuit of felt led upwards to a plastic rabbit mask that completed the sorry excuse of a fursuit. To Spike, he'd have been better off without it, but keeping tact, kept his mouth shut - at least this rabbit had made an effort. He remained silent and kept still in confusion, leaving the rabbit to carry on with the conversation:
"This one doesn't speak. Ooh, I love the young, silent ones! Say, I wouldn't be surprised if you got someone to take advantage of that sweet little body of yours...". This rabbit had a deep roughness to his voice, with an effeminate twang, which made Spike all the more uncomfortable as much as the crude greeting that offended his ears. Being the passive type, all the recipient could offer in response was a series of stammers and silences. Adding to the discomfort was the observation that it was not hard to notice there was a considerable amount of fat underneath that suit. Leather bands around his waist and legs showed that sadomasochism was likely to be his dish of the day.
Spike was now at the point where he was certain that he was not very comfortable being in close proximity to this furry. It was stereotypically gay people like him that seemed to approach Spike for some form of companionship; almost every furmeet he went to, the cute and friendly ones either ignored him, or were too young and irrational for him, and this formed him over time into the quivering, homophobic wreck of a bisexual that stood before the rabbit at that moment in time; his faith in the furry fandom rapidly shaving away with every word the disgusting beast lunged towards the human dragon.
Spike urged to speak, the situation now akin to those awkward moments when you get caught by one of those charity workers in the middle of the street, "I'm n-not...your type". Whilst he felt relieved saying that, it didn't faze off the rabbit in the least:
"Oh, yes you are! How about we leave this joint, so we can fuck in private?". Alarm bells rang inside Spike mind, and he wanted to protest loudly, only managing to release a low-pitched whine, petrified in fear. The rabbit's shabby paw rose up, and moved towards the shoulder of the non-suited human close to him. Spike wanted to move, to just evade and run as fast as he can, but he couldn't function. He closed his eyes and winced in the sheer horror of what was going to happen to him...
"Jacks?"
Spike's eyes opened as a result of proceedings taking longer than he assumed it to be. A tall, slim gentleman with short blonde hair stood smiling, giving off this sense of confidence; a much better improvement than Spike himself, who was still paralysed from the combination of fear and surprise. The blonde man wasted no time in tapping the side of the rabbit's mask and leaning over to whisper something:
"Jacks, what are you doing with this loser? You're supposed to be in the lineup for the judges!". The rabbit swept his head to look at the unsuited human who stood next to him, paused, and grunted; clearly annoyed that his chance for some action was foiled. To further halt the sudden arrangements Jacks was planning, the stranger started to form a more public scene by dragging Jacks all the way to the lineup for the rabbit sub-category; judges examining and scrutinising every detail of every costume. The only way Jacks could now save further embarrassment was to just make his way there begrudgingly, separating off from his temporary captor with a violent shrug.
Spike was silent, merely aghast with what had happened to him in such a short period of time; What the heck was going to happen to him if this stranger didn't interject at that particular moment? Should he even still be at the same spot where he just got groomed? Spike found it best to move quickly and try to get lost from within the crowd, but a strong grip wouldn't let go from his left arm â€" the stranger was back with only seconds to spare before Spike would have been covered in obscurity. The grip between the two didn't fade, allowing the audible range to hear:
"Please forgive me for openly calling you a loser. I could see you were uncomfortable with that guy from all the way back there, and I had to find some way to discourage him from you...that was if I was doing the right thing there with that stunt to pull him away from you..."
Despite the heaving breaths he had to take in order to catch up to Spike, the blonde man failed to look even the slightest part messy in his appearance. Spike glared at the blonde man, eye to eye â€" he could have been as much of a threat as this Jacks from earlier on, but at least he admitted that he wasn't infallible. Dignity and politeness was kept, albeit unconventional by the hollow response, "I don't like him".
The stranger acted as if he knew this and was pleased to do a service, but couldn't help but to inject a sense of pleasure in his expression, lucky to have done the correct decision, "I'm glad I didn't just do something stupid there! Now look, Mister...", he took his hands off Spike to examine the laminate card that was close by, so he could find out the name of this victim, "...Spike, you got to be a lot more careful around here. Is this your first time?". The answer given was a brief, agreeing nod. The stranger continued, "Try to be a bit more confident here, Spike. Many will love to meet you, and you'll make great friends here, but if you do end up with a bad apple, make sure you know what you're doing. Those idiots love to play a game of mental chess with young adults like yourself.".
Spike relaxed his hollow attitude, staring at the judge's table with a hint of distress, "He almost had me in his clutches...", unfinished by the quick yank to land him close to his listener's body yanked close, and a tight hug:
"There...it's fine, sweetness. He had no chance of abducting you...". Spike sniffled softly, trying to keep himself sane. The hug went on, calming both participants down gradually, but it had to end. The tall one bent down to grab a sheet of paper that was littered on the floor with one hand, and using his other hand to write something down, "Spike? It's not common for me to give information about myself to other people, but my name is Monaux, and I'm staying here in this hotel. Keep this only to yourself...", he slipped the sheet of paper into Spike's pocket, and took a step back to look over him sternly, "...now if there's any trouble, and I mean any trouble, don't be afraid to knock on my door. I had a shitty first day in my first furcon, so I know what it's like. I want you to not have the same fate I had.".
Spike was still in a state of delirium from all of this, going from one emotion to another; proven by the unexpected yelp of "You're kind and beautiful". Monaux heard and pulled a face of confusion immediately, but Spike needed a few seconds more to process this, now having to cover up his outburst, "Shit! I'm sorry...I just need time to recover", only distracted from his self-harming thoughts by the slight nod of Monaux, concluding the deed:
"I appreciate the honesty, but I want you safe here.". He looked back upon the mass of furries about the hall, "Look, I need to patrol the other side of this room, but I think it's in your best interests to go out, mingle and make friends for the furry disco tonight...shouldn't be too hard for someone who's smart and has a honest disposition like yourself.". Spike nodded and thanked the thoughtful Monaux before watching him depart. He better do as he was told.
***
Despite the erroneous encounter earlier, Spike spent most of the day plucking up courage and socialising proficiently, gaining his own posse when it came to the evening disco. It seemed that scalies got along well with their own, judging by the fact that Spike was walking alongside that fursuited soup dragon from earlier, two otherkin lizards and a slinky human that resembled a gecko, and that was exactly what he claimed to be. The friendship between the group was quite obvious, the exchange of alcohol and good conversation making the ongoing nightfall pleasant. However, the gecko proved his lean figure by his low tolerance of booze, losing the will to stay awake. Far from taking advantage of their new friend, they acted quickly to help him find his hotel room and aid him to his bed in the safest and most respectable manner. This event made them all realise that they should separate for the night and reconvene in the morning, refreshed and ready with all sorts of zingers against their fallen comrade, and soon enough, Spike was left on his own by the exit of the hotel foyer. Standing there, he looked around to observe what was going on in the disco behind him; it still heavily populated and just as eventful â€" maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to just go back in again and see if he could find his groove again. After all, sleep is the least of your concerns when you're at your first furcon.
The issue with alcohol is that the state of intoxication isn't immediate, giving you the deceiving thought that you can take more before things get too extreme, and Spike was no exception to this fact. He wasn't certain of his limits and had to sit down in order to gather his bearings with all the commotion and entertainment around him, but this wasn't to last for long â€" the DJ had just announced the last song of the night, and it was a slow dance. In the haze of inebriation, Spike stood quickly, desperately searching for a dancing partner. It wasn't long before he managed to find a hand reaching out towards him, possibly another person who was in the same predicament than him. Spike grabbed the hand quickly and pushed himself against the support of the other person who was ready to dance with him, unable to see who it was because of the alcohol and the darkness of the dancefloor now that the music was playing to make the effect of being close to each other that bit more sensual.
With that, Spike got caught in the moment and leaned forward again while they rotated slowly in dance, parting his lips gently to press against the cheek of the kind person who gave the time to become his dance partner for the night, aided by his mind no longer able to think more logically. The mysterious other person just merely smiled, his beard getting mildly dampened by the soft kiss of Spike. He too leaned against his brief partner, but not for kissing, "You and I are going to have some fun..." Spike thought nothing of it and just before the lights could flick on, he was being taken away through the exit with a second fur in tow. No longer did they dance, but they were still in movement as they swiftly made their way through the cover of darkness.
They stopped for a moment next to the bridge in order to catch their breath. Spike looked at the third fur, seeing that he was also not very alert with proceedings. The third person was a good many inches taller than Spike, and without a trace of fat upon him. It was easy to assume that he was also a lightweight when it came to the bottle, but it must have made him a lot more docile as he never spoke a single word, just able to stand with a spaced out smile on his face. The leader of this small group got his stamina back and grabbed an arm from both of them, "Felony and Spike...looks like you're getting along with each other well. I think we'll get to know more about each other when I'll get my way ploughing through you both â€" what a threesome we'll have!" Spike looked upwards; now that he's stopped taking regular dozes of booze, his body was going through the stages of sobering up slowly, and it meant that he could look at something with an attention span of more than a split second. It was what he had feared over all the people he could be in front of.
Jacks tightened his grip on Spike's arm, with a smile that seemed to communicate his entire filthsome plan over what to do with the two, "Come on, let's get going, handsome!". Spike couldn't think easily, what with the laziness of his mind mixing with the panic of what little he could imagine that he could do. He stood there, staring at the face of the faux-rabbit, watching that double-chin mould itself into a new shape from the enjoyment of Felony trying to say something, but it clearly ending up as a mindless burble. The scene that was around them was the start of a bridge designating the outskirts of the city centre - at the other side could be anything and anywhere. Spike took it as the point of no return for this scenario, and quickly grunted to himself in order to collect a cluster of words that could be spoken in a bold fashion. He soon let them free:
"The walls...". Jacks turned around to Spike to listen, letting him continue, "...the walls have eyes!".
As weird as the statement was, there was an element of truth; CCTV cameras were present on the surrounding lampposts. This didn't make any significance to the situation, but it did give Spike some extra time to think of something better while Jacks just stood there confused and eventually annoyed with the distraction. Time was running out, and the hand that was still tight on Spike's arm was yanking him closer to the bridge; Felony not putting up an iota of resistance in his movement. Looking around swiftly, his captor turned back around "I don't know what the fuck you're on about, but we're off â€" come on!" he yanked Spike hard against him and all three moved onto the bridge.
A car passed the trio on the road opposite, the bright halogen lights blinding Spike briefly. As distracting as it could have been, it was a sign for his last chance approaching; a second car was a few hundred metres away and closing in. Spike swore heavily and looked around in what appeared to be a panic, "...shit, they're here!". Jacks looked at Spike, still moving but asking what was wrong this time. Spike spun a yarn, explaining that the car approaching was that of someone who was after him, "...I managed to get him thrown out after we got into an argument, and he threatened to run me over whenever he saw me again. You've got to hide me!". His expression looked authentic, but this was only because the cause of the fear being radiated was what Jacks was doing to him rather than this oncoming danger. The car got ever closer, and Jacks did what he thought best to keep his prize unharmed, loosening the grip on Spike's arm and hugging him in a way the covers his face against those slightly sweaty, but definitely flabby armpits. The stench helped Spike sober better for that brief second that he could calculate everything he needed to do, and could just see the lights of the car next to the threesome past from the loose hug that attempted to trap him. The time was now, and this was his final opportunity for escape. He breathed deep and made a sudden movement of his head...
***
Spike knew he had a guardian angel; it was the tall dragon that showed him such care, attention and a sense of purpose. Wasn't the whole point of a guardian to protect and advise you away from danger â€" where was Gourry at any point during the day? This was all that Spike could think as he was now running through a thorn bush, badly co-ordinated as the alcohol in his blood was pumping as much as the adrenaline through his muscles, rendering him blind as long as he runs away somewhere, anywhere â€" so long he's alive and free. It couldn't last as an exposed root made Spike topple over to a complete stop, scrawled over the soil where he remained in a stationary pose. He couldn't hear anybody, nor could he feel anything approaching him other than a few worms crawling about his hands. Slowly, but surely, he was taking the assumption that he was free and no longer under the clutches of Jacks.
Painfully standing up, Spike gathered his sight and saw what was around him. The greenery that he was standing up from was actually that which was decorating the driveway into the hotel â€" he had ended where he had started, and it was such a relief. He was clear of danger and in a more secure area, there was still no sign of anyone trying to take him back, but he was stuck on his own and far too exhausted to make his own way to the hostel. To further compound his sense of violation and betrayal, the heavens opened and made no hesitation in drenching anything that blocked its path from the sky to the ground. Spike had no choice but to run back into the hotel in total confusion, desperately seeking shelter and fumbling his pockets to find that eroding scrap of paper that was to be his last resort.
Monaux answered the door of his room, but bolted to attention when it became clear that Spike was using it as a means of propping himself up, seeing him now flat upon the floor. Bending down, Monaux checked the other carefully, puzzled by the sudden entrance and the strange condition Spike was in, cradling his head carefully whilst leaning towards him, "What the heck has happened to you?" in a concerned, yet strangely calming tone. Spike could only just mumble out inaudible responses as the headache caused from detoxifying all that alcohol, plus exhaustion overthrew him and made his body just want to sleep it off. Neither person spoke much, for it seemed the most appropriate; Monaux picking up the docile Spike to the bathroom, so he could get him cleaned up for the most part. Despite the display of adept spongework, Spike was too busy dozing than to notice that he was soon being carried back to the bedroom, spread upon a vacant spot on the double bed. His unscheduled task complete, Monaux just sighed to himself and looked at the peaceful specimen in front of him, "Not a good day".
Throughout the night, Spike swore that he could feel some sort of thin, scaled arm lazily lay over his body, but had this sense of paralysis over his body. It didn't feel threatening, and there was this aura of safety surrounding him, so the issue of not moving didn't pull him that far away from going back to sleep. Natural light had completely filled the room when Spike next woke from his slumber, the arm gone and his legs aching in strain from all the action his muscles had faced mere hours before. It was only now that Spike could truly take in the details of the room he was in, now that he was in a more conscious state of mind and could clearly think and take in information.
Two thoughts crossed through him: the first being the comfort of the bed; so large and warm in the confines of the duvet that enveloped him, the other was the whereabouts of his hero of the night. He was alone in the room, free to contemplate everything that had gone on, and that's when he realised â€" Felony! He bolted upright in the shock of whatever could have occurred to him, surged in the guilt of leaving a fur in need behind. However, this shock turned to confusion; however could he have saved both himself and Felony when Jacks was so adamant with his intentions? The very reminiscence of the previous night was far too much to tolerate and he laid his head against the pillow again, thrashing about to wriggle out of his mental prison of self-pity. There was a slight hissing around the room, as if the shower unit in the bathroom was being used; it would certainly explain the lack of a roommate, and the bathroom door being shut instead of ajar. Spike composed himself and devised a plan to execute in that very room and seethed to himself as his legs made their first journey in hours to leave the confines of the bed.
Monaux was indeed in the shower, washing himself in preparation for the new day. Hot water coursed through his blonde hair first, pouring downwards to his torso. It was obvious that he was toned, since the water had to reorganise itself to flow between his pectoral muscles, and escape through the trough between each duet of abdominals. Monaux just moaned to himself since it was so soothing to get such a pleasing aura of hot water and steam, surrounding him in such comfort that he just didn't want to leave. Looking down, he noticed how the water escaped his body; because the prominent muscles he bared manipulated the water to flow central to his waist, it channelled out through his shaft, drooped to the floor in limpness. Curiously, this gave the optical illusion that he was constantly urinating into the shower, and he tutted at himself, leaning towards a different angle in order to stop that happening. He didn't have much time, but so wanted it to last, picking up the soap and lathering it over his arms. The soft texture of the lather over his skin was just so refreshing and smooth; it made his mind wander for that brief period of time left.
His imagination was doing so well, closing his eyes in bliss in what felt like two hands rubbing his pecs ever so gently. Those hands were so kind to him, pressing his muscles with that pressure that just massaged them with the minimum of effort. Monaux had to let off a realistic purr to himself as those hands were slowly making their way downwards to press and fondle each lump along his stomach, wriggling his way to make the most of things; he wanted all of his body to be massaged the same way it had been above. The enjoyment was too intense, and was starting to show. He couldn't wait, moving from his paralysis of arousal and grabbing his own testicles, rubbing along them gently to compliment the massage he was imagining. His shaft did the natural thing and rise itself to grow; pulsing lightly with every heartbeat that was also causing every muscle on his body to throb gently. However, there was some issue with Monaux's body that made him equal to the world; his erection was missing a half-inch of what was classed as the average. It didn't truly bother him as he breathed deep, going for it as he made the transition from his sac to the base of his stiff length and started to stroke upwards â€" at least that was the plan.
Monaux broke free of his passionate daydream after feeling someone else's hand where he was stroking himself. Someone was in the shower with him and in the state of surprised shock, thrashed at whatever was behind him. It could have been a spider for all he knew, but the reflex action threw Spike backwards towards the closed door of the bathroom.
Spike was fazed from the sudden move, plus his contact with the door, but could keep eye contact with a confused Monaux still in the shower. Not wanting to sour the mood any more than it already had done, Spike justified himself, "I wanted to show my gratitude..." he winced upon hanging his head in shame, "...I'm sorry.". He thought the best to do was to leave, so quickly got up and tried the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. Trying in vain was making the situation more difficult for him and he thrashed at the door. The whole world seemed to come to a standstill, and all for the reason that while he had his back turned, Monaux moved towards him and parked his erection between Spike's legs. It felt strange, but uniquely comforting; the both of them still:
"Honey, there's no need to go that far to thank me for what I did. My orgasm comes from the knowledge that I was there when you were at your lowest ebb, ready to save you from whatever came out to get you. Stop fumbling with the door a moment and turn around for me, would you?"
Monaux was just the shining example of compassion and love, gripping the shoulders of the trapped Spike to help him turn around; a brief moment to move his hips backward to let the legs move before pressing them back in to lock his companion's position. Spike had little time to speak back before he was face to face with the smiling image of that handsome face leaning closer to him. He breathed deep and felt his lips bind with the warm pair from Monaux. Tensions loosened and his self-pity just melted into obscurity with every passing moment that they kissed. In order to enter the shower earlier, Spike was naked too; his body shallow in its contours, but he was definitely on the slim side. With another purr of arousal from Monaux, he showed his approval of his partner's body by pressing his chest against Spike's.
The vibrations were excellent to feel and a second erection joined in the action, rubbing against the first one like a musical instrument. However, the only resonance was Monaux's hand grabbing the door handle and flicking the lock to open, making the door part to expose the two in deep embrace, falling upon the floor. This compared little against any other kiss he ever felt, his head of his shaft showing how sensitive it is by leaking a small fraction of liquid from the slit. This could have progressed so far, but whether it was simple fate or a horrid curse, the room telephone rang. Monaux had to answer it, begrudgingly parting from his brief lover to get his hand to the bedside cabinet. It was his wake-up call â€" playtime was over.
***
"Who's Gourry?" Monaux queried as he was in the middle of his clothing regime, sliding up his trousers. Spike looked surprised; he never mentioned his guardian dragon at any point, but the source of the question soon became clear, "...Just that you seemed to mention him a lot in your sleep.".
There was no way that he could say that Gourry was this big green dragon that he was unsure existed, but knew for certain when he had that glowing vial set into a necklace. There never was a moment when Spike took that necklace off; not even when he was doing that display in the shower. He mumbled, clearly feeling forsaken for never seeing him again, "some guardian".
Monaux looked nonchalant as he lifted a foot to slip a sock on, saying after a moment to process what he heard, "He sounded more like ‘some guardian' when you kept blabbering his name all last night. I couldn't get a moment of peace.". The tone sounded serious, but it was followed by a moment of teasing, "If you slept quietly like a baby, I could have got the sleep to wake up earlier...then we could have got our rocks off good and proper!"
He didn't look at Spike for his facial response, but did smirk to himself; he was in a cheeky mode this morning. Spike tittered nervously, but used the lightened mood to give more information about Gourry, "I thought he'd protect me from Jacks, but I was left to fend for myself.". The responding action wasn't what he expected; Monaux didn't batter an eyelid.
Gently ruffling his blonde hair to some form of neatness, he stood up and nudged Spike, "It's awful rude of me, but there's only 20 minutes of breakfast left downstairs. You're dressed up â€" you start without me for a while. I'll soon catch up to you.". Spike was urged up and ushered to the door, being pushed out to the corridor with some speed. Turning around to face his roommate again, he questioned the action:
"A-are you sure? Wouldn't it be best if I accompanied you?"
Monaux shaked his head peacefully, "nah, this kittycat needs to groom himself some more", he made a small feline purr to complement his answer.
Spike just nodded and slowly turned around to make the long lonely path to the elevator, but was interrupted once more:
"Spike?"
He turned around to face the door a few metres away, listening to why he was being stopped, "I doubt there was much your guardian could have done when you were at that bridge, but I'm certain he was watching you. I bet he has so much respect for your quick thinking; just give him the benefit of the doubt for this one this time.".
Spike nodded in consideration; it was such a kind thing to say and he merely whispered his gratitude. He piped up again, "I'll see you in a minute, right?".
Monaux nodded and gripped the doorframe, winking to Spike "I'll be seeing you again soon". There was only a split second that offered the observation of the eyes being so hypnotising in its blueness; the hand on the doorframe an aquatic green.
Before anything could be made in response to that inspection, he was gone â€" the door was closed and locked. There was nothing he could do. Such a powerful set of blue eyes didn't affect him when he was in the room; it didn't seem right to even think of what Monaux really way. The pendant around Spike's neck suddenly grew cold, making him prise it apart from his chest to stop the chill. It wasn't his imagination; his hands were holding what felt like an ice-cube, but it was still a vial of liquid. Spike's mind went through a transition, feeling what seemed to be a loving hug, except he was the only person in the room. It was comforting, but the feeling dulled as the vial went back to room temperature. Without a word uttered to the ether, Spike placed the necklace pendant back under his shirt and walked towards the elevator again, departing further from the room of Monaux the Domestic Kitty Cat.
Spike never did get the opportunity to meet Monaux again, despite his efforts in searching every table in the hotel restaurant after a considerable period of absence. Asking those that he knew to be competing in the fursuit concourse yielded a denial of knowing anyone in the judging panel that was tall and blonde haired, let alone one by the name of Monaux. Hotel Reception classed the room that Monaux stayed in as a vacant room. Spike knew he had to move on and give up the search, but would always hold a place in his heart for the thoughtful kitty cat that gave him shelter and such loving care. Such a strange occurrence would have led one to lean towards the paranormal; such things like he was dead and he's now living out this weird role-play in Purgatory. Maybe his guardian dragon did intervene after all, but there was no unequivocal certainty to that claim.
This whole series of events meant he was the one starting the conversation between himself and Mrs Fox, who was maintaining her role as greeter for the second day, "Is there a way you can prove you're still alive?".
The brown bearsuit was in his usual place too, but had now started to cower back in fear of such a philosophical question. A brief, yet significant pause gave the arctic fox the time to answer, letting her paw raise slowly in contemplation. With Spike watching the paw, still transfixed by the appearance of such a fine piece of tailoring, it soon swooped down to hug his face. Pressing several square inches of fluffy paw against Spike's face, she addressed the issue:
"You're trapped under my paw. I know I sure as hell am alive, so unless you can suddenly ghost your way out of my grip, I'm quite certain you're alive too."
The person inside the fursuit couldn't help but smile in achievement of such quick thinking â€" must come with the vulpine in her. Spike showed his defeat with a murfle beneath that paw, it retracting soon afterwards.
Mrs Fox didn't leave it at that, "Before you join us for the second day of melee, you're not booked into the hotel, are you?". Spike was still booked into the youth hostel, so shook in response. The brown bearsuit stood to attention, as if something important was going to happen. Mrs Fox opened her articulated muzzle again, "Then I should be giving you a public warning that we've been telling everyone. Someone in our furcon had been spiking drinks yesterday. Thankfully he'd got caught just before he took away someone with him...". The media would yet again find a reason to stick their nose in the business of the furry fandom; discovering that the person responsible was indeed Jacks, who got in such a rage after losing Spike that he had punched a car in a way to express his fury. Car alarms blared, Jacks was caught on the charge of vandalism, but it appeared that Felony tested positive for nitrazepam.
Spike had to ask in a form of desperation, "Is the victim okay?", feeling a sense of guilt and worry in his system again from having to leave Felony behind. The answer given soothed him:
"He's recovering in hospital to sleep off the drugs, but I think he's coming back later this afternoon when he gets the all clear. He'll think twice before taking free booze from someone else again!". Spike could sigh in relief as if a burden was released from him; he may have been lucky the previous night, but Felony was more so.
Spike let out a cold, hollow statement, showing off his disgust, "I hope the bastard gets what's coming to him". It took a few seconds for him to realise what he said, during which time the two fursuiters took a back step in surprise. Realising what he had done, he bolted upright and apologised with such gusto that it gave him the same awkward moment with them that started his furcon the day before.
A mimed titter from the brown bear in view of such a burst of character from Spike broke the mental silence, making it easier for Mrs Fox to finish off the pre-entry warning, "Such behaviour! Get in there, or I'll have to bleach out my ears!" she thwacked Spike's head playfully to shove him into the main hall, but also to show that she wasn't that offended by the bad language. The person beneath the brown bearsuit took off the head and bared his human self in front of his partner, showing himself to be a tall person with piercing blue eyes.
Not only could he now catch a breath of cooling air while nobody else was looking, but he could get the chance to speak, "well, maybe that idiot does deserve to have the book thrown at him". The arctic fox, still suited up took her chance when nobody else was looking to stamp on his foot menacingly.
She jested to him in a mocking tone, "Taking sides against me, eh? See if you get any tonight!" she smirked to herself after that, but added, "Why didn't you get a backstage pass? I think it's a stupid idea to book a hotel room and work for the con but not take advantage of the privileges given to us.".
All that the former bear could do was confidently shake, "It's not my thing...I prefer to just be in a fursuit and greet the incomers. Actually, I'm not really booked in as staff, so I guess I'm skating on thin ice already being able to do this".
Mrs Fox wasn't surprised hearing this, but nodded her furred head, "Be careful. You're doing a good job, but I don't want you in trouble.". The head of the brown fursuit was pushed back onto its owner, quickly preparing himself by making sure his blonde hair didn't get in the way of what he could see. With that, he spied an oncoming group of furries wanting to enter the hallway and did the silliest welcoming dance that begged for hugs. Mrs Fox could only look on and watch the display, commenting when the hugged managed to make their way to her, "Don't mind him, he had too much sugar in his Frosties this morning.".
The bear hung his head in an overacted display of shame, but both were actually smiling deeply at each other beneath those suits â€" business as usual greeting the guests.