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Foundations, Chapter 4

By Kenneth Beltan

Blake, Quentin, and Nieve are all copyrighted and are owned by Nievelion. I have had permission to use them for this story. All other characters are mine.

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Quentin stomped his boots on the mat before reaching down to untie them. It was snowing very heavily, and he was covered in white. The storm had started out as rain, quickly turned freezing, and then promptly into snow. It was the worst combination imaginable, and Quentin was immensely grateful that his entire route home had been underground, save for the small walk from the station. He dared not treat onto the wooden floors or the runner for fear of ruining them. It was after one o'clock in the morning, and he was worried about his son. He had not come home this late without telling Blake before. His son may have been sixteen, but he was still growing up. He did not need any mental distress on top of all the hormonal changes going on in his body. He quickly hung his coat and hat on the pegs and proceeded down the warm hall to the front room where a light was obviously lit.

Quentin poked his head in and saw Blake asleep in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, its glowing embers just enough to keep the immediate area toasty. Only a side lamp was on, and a thick, single-volume edition of The Lord of the Rings was laying open about two-thirds read on Blake's already enormous chest. The big teenage cat sat clad only his in underwear, sporting a large erection. Instead of walking away, Quentin merely stood there and observed. His gaze traced every ridge of the mushroom head, the girth of the phallus, and the apparent length. It was rigidly hard and impressive for one still so young. Boldly, the Amur allowed himself to truly behold his son as the man he was almost finished metamorphosizing into, begging with Blake's broad shoulders, then his muscled arms, his sculpted chest and abdominals, his trunk-like legs, and finally his big feet. Quentin's paw had slowly moved to grope the front of his trousers, massaging his still larger manhood that was filling up quickly. He took a few silent steps forward so he stood just within reach of his son's wonderful package. He reached out his paw and held it just inches from the prize, teasing himself with how close he was, so very tempted to just reach out and grasp it!

Quentin withdrew his paw and slowly walked out of the room. He deposited his briefcase in his study before silently padding into his own bedroom to start getting undressed. He carefully and slowly disrobed, piece by piece, until he was standing in his briefs, the wine-red fabric contrasting tastefully against his fur. He finally shucked them off and sat down at his dresser to brush his thick winter fur for the evening. As he worked, he admired his body in the glass. He was still very fit and powerful, and his looks seemed to only improve as he aged. The truth was, he found himself extremely attractive, and he loved his body. It was more than vanity; it was a genuine pleasure with all that he was. Many people were very unpleased with their bodies, even if they had no reason to be, and it made Quentin especially grateful to have such confidence as well as such a healthy self-esteem.

He then heard footfalls coming down the hall and looked up in the mirror to see his son. Quentin had not closed his door. He panicked for a moment but the realized there was nothing that he could do now. If Blake came in and up to him, he would see his father erect. The patriarch figured that if his son could be occasionally careless about shutting the door, then so could a father. As Blake approached the door, Quentin was surprised to find the tiger totally naked and hard as a rock, his underwear hanging off the end of his cock like a flag. The adolescent tiger was grinning down at himself, amused by that his cock could serve as a makeshift flagpole and probably delighting in the cheap double-entendre. He had to roll his eyes as he continued his grooming.

Blake looked up over at Quentin's bedroom door, though he still did not realize what his father's mirror was revealing, as the angle from the perspective of the door seemed to only work one way.

"Dad?" he called.

"I'm here, son. Just brushing my fur. I returned only a few minutes ago, but I didn't want to wake you." His son's timing had made him uneasy. If he had spent anymore time in that room, Blake might have woken up and seen his father in the most compromising of positions. How would that have been explained? Unbeknownst to Quentin, Blake had heard his father stamping the snow off of his boots, for it had woken him up. Finding himself hard as iron, he decided to just let his father walk in on him and feigned being asleep. The whole time his father had been in the room, Blake had been perfectly aware of it. He had been able to smell his father's proximity, and he had even sensed just how close his father's paw had been to his cock. Oh, how Blake had hoped that his father would just reach out for it! A raging debate had been going on in his head as to whether he should have just opened his eyes or perhaps shifted forward as if changing positions in his sleep to get more comfortable. It would have thrust his groin right into his father's warm, eager paw. It had been such a disappointment for him when the older tiger just padded quietly away. Blake was in no doubt now that his father was interested, and he thanked God for it.

Blake wanted to go in and chat with his father, to see his body again, but he was not yet brazen enough to merely saunter in as he was. Of course, he was displaying a flag of lust if there ever was one, and since his father was interested, maybe it was a good idea. Fantasies were fantasies, and they were not the same things as actually doing it, he told himself for the millionth time. One could get within mere millimeters of a fantasy and still have that be enough not to cross the line. He had to allow that his father might not want to cross that line, and Blake did not want to force it, even if his loins were screaming at him to get on with it. He decided instead to display his trademark insouciant grin, gripped his cock with a large paw, and waved his playfully in the direction of his father's bedroom.

"That's all right. The sound of you dropping your briefcase in your study told me you were in the hall." It was a perfectly true statement, even if it was a bit misleading. Blake kicked himself for being overly cautious. He took his briefs off of his cock and tossed them over his head. He then started stroking his cock and fondling his balls. "You're home really late."

Quentin was enjoying the show and was also stroking his member. "I lost track of time at the public library, and then Nieve gave me some assistance I needed. I was having a lot of trouble tonight."

"Your paper not going well?" Blake ducked his muzzle down and engulfed his own cock, still grinning around it.

The father tiger had to bite back a moan as he squirted pre that landed on top of the bureau. He was jealous of Blake's mouth, wondering what that young cock tasted like. "Yes, I'm afraid so. That happens sometimes. I think I just need to blow off some steam and then sort out a few things. I've had a lot on my mind lately. I would like to spend some more time with you as well."

Swallowing his own emissions, Blake stood up straight, letting his cock slide out of his muzzle and licked his chops clean. He definitely felt they could do with blowing off steam, and he figured his father had issues to work out internally if he was finding himself attracted to his own son. Blake had to shake his head. If only the man would just let himself succumb to those impulses, it would make all those stresses disappear! The young man wondered if those were the issues his father was actually talking about. He had to make sure that he was not reading too much into those otherwise innocuous-sounding words. It was hard not, though, especially when he knew that Nieve "helping out" often involved, at least in Quentin's case, a helping paw sexually. Their combined pheromones were pretty strong, and Blake had many times caught a whiff of them if he got really close. They certainly had been present tonight. How he wondered what Nieve's cock tasted like.

He had once seen it when the lion had happened to visit the restroom at the same time. Two of the urinals were out of order for some reason, leaving only the two on the right left. As Blake had been opening his trousers, he felt the venerable librarian's presence come up beside him. Unable to help sneaking a look, the young tiger's mouth dropped open upon watching Nieve's huge cock come out. Quickly catching himself, he happened to look up to find the other cat grinning at him from being his tasteful specs and prodigious braided mane. Nieve gave his heavy member a shake, stood back a bit, closed his eyes, and let a rip. He never said a word, nor had he spared another glance at the gawking young tiger, even after finishing up. Blake was hard as could be as he watched Nieve vigorously shake himself, still standing back enough to be easily watched. He then stuffed it all back into his trousers, went to wash his paws, and finally let the bathroom. Blake bad been sorely tempted to just rush into a stall and rub one out, but instead somehow managed to get home and relieve his urges himself for a few hours, his mind firmly held on fiercely erotic image of the lion's cock. Since that time, unfortunately, he had not been lucky enough to catch a second peepshow.

"Son?" Quentin called. He had watched as Blake stood up and suddenly seemed to go hazy-eyed, as if he were thinking of some wonderful event or fantasy. It certainly had made his cock start dripping, and a puddle was growing on the floor in front of him. Whatever was working him up was certainly potent.

Blake shook his head to clear it and realized that he had not answered his father. He then saw the puddle on the floor. His eyes widened, and his fur puffed out in panic. He quickly snatched his underwear off his head and bent down to clean the mess, his cock bobbing all the while and not having flagged in the slightest.

"That sounds great, Dad. Listen, I'm gonna take a shower. Don't wait up for me. I had a sandwich and some soup for supper, so I'm not hungry."

"All right, son. I'm sorry for not calling, by the way. I didn't mean to be so forgetful," Quentin apologized, trying not to laugh at his son's haste. He was using his own underwear to catch his now abundantly-flowing pre.

"No problem." Blake quickly finished wiping up the mess and ducked fast into the bathroom, though he left the door wide open. That was starting to become a habit for better or worse.

For the next twenty minutes, both males enjoyed themselves in the fullest sense of the meaning, each now much more confident as to the way forward.