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Foundations, Chapter 10

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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10

Quentin stepped out of his bedroom, a small stack of gifts in his arms, and carried them to the tree. He looked forward to the darkness when they could turn on the tree lights as well as all the various strings of Christmas lights that had been strung around the room. It was so cozy and lovely to see, and the tender warmth it conjured in Quentin's mind made him purr, being the sentimental kind of man that he was. There was nothing quite like that part of Christmas, especially after coming home from Midnight Mass. It always left him with a warm but calm joy inside, especially as the story of Jesus' birth made him think of his own son. Blake's birth had been among the happiest days of his life thus far. He closed his eyes, his paws held up slightly as he recalled what it was like to hold that tiny ball of fur for the first time. The little kitten had of course been blind at birth, but he had been able to feel and smell his father. Soon Quentin acquainted his son with the feeling of his tongue on the cub's tiny ears and head. Soft purrs had immediately issued forth from the little bundle. It was not long before Blake had discovered that the most wonderful place in the world to take a nap was in his father's thick chest fur. It was even better when Quentin put his arms around him to keep him safe. Even his mother's plump breasts with their milk eventually could not compete. As a father, the Amur could not help purring fondly at the memories which flooded through him. He had to laugh upon remembering when his own father's embrace had become competition. Tiny Blakeson had actually spent the better part of fifteen or twenty minutes padding back and forth from one white-furred chest to the other, trying to decide which one was the softest, the warmest, which one rumbled best, whose arms were more protecting, and who could lick his ears best. Quentin's father Giles had deviously offered his tail to hold as an incentive. It had worked, and Blake was soon fast asleep on his grandfather's chest. Until Blake and his parents left England for the United States, Giles was the favorite bed. Quentin still wondered if he could again be his son's favorite bed. He would like to keep him warm, especially on a beautiful but frigid night like Christmas Eve. He cracked a smirk as he imagined presenting himself with a bow tied around his cock for Christmas. Maybe Blake would get that idea and surprise his father upon coming home tonight. It was very unlikely either way, but Quentin enjoyed imagining it all the same. Well, even if it was not his son, he would still be enjoying the company of a man in his bed tonight. That at least was his intention, and it was not usually difficult to persuade Charles to play along. Quentin quietly left the living room and headed for his study. He had heard Blake exercising when he passed the young tiger's door on his way down the hall, so he figured that he might as well try to get some work done on his latest paper. For the next three hours, he worked easily and made surprising progress. In fact, it was now three quarters complete. He could realistically see it being finally finished by the end of January. Another paper, another step towards tenure, he told himself. His stomach then told him that it was time to eat. He wondered if his son would not also fancy some lunch after his workout. He could smell the scent of shampoo as he walked down the hall to Blake's room. The door was open now, so he just walked in and found the adolescent Amur laying on his bed, arms behind his head, his entire body displayed in all of its nude splendor. "If you ever put clothes on again, I'm not sure I should recognize you," he joked as he came up to Blake's bed. His son responded with a very feline grin. "All the more reason for me not to put them back on." "Indeed. Are you hungry, my son? I would say it's time we had some lunch." He sat on the side of the bed, his pas folded idly in his lap. Blake wondered if his father was going to come up with another string of erotic food imagery. "Sure. I had a good workout." He lifted an arm and flexed it, showing an impressive muscle. "Feel that!" Quentin obliged, proudly feeling the iron muscle in that bicep. "Very nice. Very nice. You do me proud, son." "Thanks, Dad." Surprisingly, Quentin reached over and put a paw on Blake's snowy white belly and started to rub it. It only took a few repetitions to make Blake putty. "I was just thinking about you as a kitten. You know, your grandfather and I use to compete for your attentions. You once spent twenty minutes going back and forth trying out our chests for your bed." Blake started laughing. "What?" "You probably would not remember, I'm sure, but everyone thought it was cute. You had very exacting standards, as any cat should have." Quentin elevated his nose proudly. "Who won?" Blake wondered, purring deeply. "My father," Quentin answered a bit ruefully even as he half-grinned and shook his head. "He threw his tail in to clinch the deal. Wish I'd thought to do that, damn it. Hmmm..." He lifted his tail and tangled it tantalizingly over his son chest, his eyes pleading ever so subtly for his son to indulge him. Blake looked askance at his father and sighed. "All right, Dad." Blake put his arms around the large tail and hugged it close. He actually was enjoying it immensely, but he would not let his father know that. He was not a kitten anymore after all. "I love you, too, Dad." Quentin looked overjoyed, even though he was perfectly aware that his son was doing everything he could to make the whole thing seem like it was an imposition he was suffering out of affection for his father. If he wanted to play it that way, that was all right. As long as Blake loved him and was willing to express it sometimes, Quentin could live with Blake's otherwise emotionally reserved nature. "Now, I could make us some hearty stew and sandwiches. Or I could make the stew in the slow cooker so that it will be ready for supper tonight, and in its place for lunch, I could make us some salmon and orzo with a salad. Fish, of course, is wonderful for the coat." He gave his son a little scratch on his belly before going back to full rubbing. He was glad that Blake's cock was so long and heavy that it hung down between his legs, otherwise he would not be able to rub the Amur's belly without bumping into it. Of course, he would not mind that very much, if they ever got to that stage. He could see that the shaft was plumping and that Blake was subtly trying tenses certain muscles to see if he could make it pop up and onto his father's paw. Unless he let it get noticeably more erect, that was not going to happen. It was a nice show all the same. Blake's eyes were closed, and he was resisting the urge to playful mouth his father's tail. It was so close, though... "You've sold me on fish," he purred deeply as his father's gentle affections soothed him. "I'm glad to hear it. I was hoping for fish myself." He gave Blake's belly a final pat and stood up. "Come on, then. I'd like some company while I work." Blake sat up and swung his legs over the bed only to embrace his father around the waist, his muzzle straddling his father's waistline. Quentin was still shirtless, so he could feel his son's nose gently poking his belly. He smiled broadly, his arms coming down to gently hold his near-adult son to his body. Quentin also noticed that sometimes the lower part of Blake's jaw brushed just over the top part of his shaft. It would be pretty simple to just pull his lounging trousers down and let his cock free to that likely eager mouth. He could use a good mouthing there right about now. He waited to see if his son would make any kind of move. In the end, neither of them made a move but simply enjoyed the closeness. They soon went to the kitchen, prepared the food for lunch and also prepared the stew so that it could be slow cooked over the rest of the day. The salmon had been flavorful and tender, with lemon and herbs that complimented it just right. Fewer foods were finer than fish, they both agreed as they ate, and these had been particularly good fillets. They then spent much of the remaining day sitting together and reading in front of a warm fire. Blake had opted to remain as naked as his father had found him. He alternated laying on his back on a pallet he had put together in front of the fire and in perfect view of his father and laying on his belly with his cock and balls very visible between his legs, positioned just perfectly so that as much as possible could be seen. It had been very distracting to his father at times as he tried to read. Meanwhile, his son was as cool as he had been on the subway before, his attention fully in his book and allowing his very presence to be a distraction. It was a good strategy to be sure, and Quentin was considering taking off his own clothes and sitting naked to create a distraction for Blake. At least it would even the odds for their reading, as Blake had managed to finish one book and was reading the beginning chapters of a second. Quentin looked up at the mantle clock above the fireplace, and it showed the time as being quarter to eight. That did not seem like a bad time for him to go get spruced up for services tonight. That would offer him a fine reason to be naked for a few hours. He made a concentrated effort to finish his chapter before announcing his intentions. He took his time as he did selective washing in certain areas with a damp rag, having showered properly just last night. He then clipped around his muzzle so that his newly growing tiger's beard looked tidy. He carefully filed and clipped his claws as needed so they would be perfect even if they might not get displayed. Satisfied, he went back to the living room with only a towel on his arm and some oil, as he planned to finish his grooming where Blake could watch him. He set his supplies down on his chair and then went over to the scratching post to properly sharpen his claws. After an enjoyable scratch, he sat down on his towel and quietly began to oil his fur lightly so that it would shine at its most beautiful. He loved doing this as it was pleasant and enhanced the glorious perfection of his Siberian coat all the more. No inch of his fur was neglected, his comb helping to distribute the scented oil to every strand. Sometimes he would sit while working, and other times it was more advantageous to stand in various positions. He especially liked putting his foot up on the chair to better do his legs, with one leg better showing of his fat girth and black length, whereas the other leg hid part of the shaft but really gave a better view of his white balls along with his perfect rump. Oiling the fur on his scrotum had required a few changes in positions so that he was satisfied. He was also pleased to note that Blake had since turned onto his belly again, only this time he was keeping his shaft hidden which had been lengthening noticeably up his chest before he had quickly turned over. When he had finally finished all that he could, Quentin stood up tall and came before the fire to inspect the shine, purring loudly and proudly. His scent was strong in the room, mixing well with the musk and frankincense of his oil. Blake just had to rest his forehead on the rug it was so wonderful. It was so hard not to show just how desperate he was for his father at that moment. "Son?" Blake's eyes snapped open, and he looked over his shoulder and up his father's impressive figure. "Yes, Dad." "Would you mind doing my back?" He held out the comb and oil bottle. His voice was husky and gruff again, and there was that same assuredness that had so turned Blake on earlier. "Ah, sure, Dad. May I finish my chapter first?" He felt like putting his face in his palm. "You haven't read a word in five minutes or more, Blake. You've just been...resting your head on the rug," Quentin rumbled back. "Now come on, it's best to do this all together. You know that." Fear was working a little bit to make Blake soft, but his father was not offering him any more time to stall. When Quentin offered a paw to help Blake up, the young tiger could not refuse and resigned himself to being seen quite erect. He tried to stand tall as his cock was, and Quentin grinned down at him. "I don't know why you're so afraid of me seeing you, son. I've seen you ever other way, so what's one more detail going to change? You should be proud anyway." Blake did not know what to say, but it made his cock jump, which mortified him while also inflaming him further. He was doing remarkably well otherwise at keeping a calm exterior, but he was trying with all his might to send a telepathic message to his father to just reach out and take hold of his dick. Instead, Quentin just chuckled, said something offhandedly about the joys of such youthful vitality, and turned around. He was about to kneel down slightly in his chair and then changed his mind, a wicked smirk on his face again. "I think maybe I'll lay down for this. Your pallet looks quite cozy, son." Without further ado, Quentin turned back around, grinning down again at his son's stiff member, and proceeded to lay down on the floor in front of the warm fire. He got a good whiff of his son down there and enjoyed it. Blake meanwhile could have screamed. After all the fuss about him getting up, they were back to the floor! He could have just stayed there and preserved his modesty. On the other paw, his father seemed to like what he saw indeed. Perhaps forcing Blake to reveal himself had been a plot to get an eyeful and thus get further confirmation of his intentions. It now occurred to Blake that he could have offered to do the job on the floor from the start and thus outmaneuvered his father. He dared not tarry any longer, so he sank to his knees and began to work. The young Amur slowly oiled his father's back, making sure the job was as perfect as could be. No cat would ever dare to do any less, especially if they were asked for assistance. It was a mark of trust to do this, and to do any less than perfect would be an insult to all felinedom. Blake also knew that he was being checked out. Because his father's fur naturally flowed down his back, Blake had to sit facing his father's head to get the best angle for the comb. His cock was sticking out from his hips, and he could do absolutely nothing about it. It refused to go down, and his father's head was laying in his arms, his eyes naturally looking his way. That loud rumbling purr coming from his father's warm body indicated that he was immensely enjoying himself. Blake tried to put his frustrations behind him and simply enjoy it as well, but now he had somehow managed to convince himself that his father was merely being tolerant of the teenage penis that had the unfortunate tendency to stand up for whatever reason and was simply being calm so as not to embarrass his son. It was not working so well, and Blake knew that it was all because he would not allow himself to be comfortable with it. "Relax, son," Quentin said in a soothing purr. "You're so tense. Go easier on my back." Indeed, Blake suddenly realized that he was going a little too hard and quickly relaxed his grip, heaving a quiet sigh. He was caught, so there was not much else to do. He just tried to concentrate on his work, pretending it was an exercise so his mind would empty out a bit. It actually worked, and he soon had a rhythm going. His father's purrs were quite pronounced now, and when Blake looked down, he saw that his father's eyes were closed. He was really enjoying this, Blake realized, and it made the young man feel good. It further drained the tension from him even as his penis continued to stand as proud as ever. When Quentin's back had been properly oiled, Blake began redoing a few areas just to please his father. He did the arms, the neck, even being so bold as to go over those wonderful buttocks. Between them, he could see his father's enormous balls, but the shaft was clearly under the his stomach. Blake wondered if it was erect, too. Finally, the young Amur took hold of his father's tail again and began to oil it luxuriously. Every so often, he would grip it at its base and slowly run the whole tail through his fist. His father really seemed to like that a lot, so Blake took his time until it was truly oiled and groomed as perfect as it could be. "Thank you, Blake. That was wonderful," Quentin said, his husky voice sounding as satisfied as could be. One would almost have thought he had just had good tumble rather than a good grooming. It had not really occurred to Blake now erotic something like this could be, even if that had not been the intention. "You're welcome, Dad. Glad ya liked it," Blake replied softly, sitting on his legs, his tail slowly flicking behind him. Blake sat and watched as his father slowly but luxuriously stretched his whole body before standing up. He was quite surprised to see his father's cock much thicker than usual and almost sticking out horizontal to his body. He estimated that it had to be about half erect. Quentin then put his arms over his torso and stretched again, which only served to bounce the heavy member. It seemed to still be growing, rising ever so slowly and filling out more. The musk pouring off of it was intense, and it was making Blake's mouth water. Quentin was aware of how Blake was reacting, having caught it all with only the slightest of gazes, the scents on the air, the sound of his voice, and other cues. Yet he acted as though he had not noticed anything and was in fact ignoring it all as he looked over once more at the clock. "My goodness! Has so much time really passed?" At that moment, the clock struck nine and rang out softly in their sitting room. "My, my, my. Well, I think I have time for a bit more reading and a light supper. I don't know if you're hungry again -- what am I saying? Of course, you are." Quentin turned and grinned down at his son. "I'm going to make those sandwiches, and I'm sure the stew should be edible by now. Let's eat and have some spiced cider. We can do a little more reading together, and then I have to get ready and leave." Without waiting for a response, Quentin padded casually out of the room, his cock bobbing half hard in front of him as his son began leaking onto his own legs. For the next ninety minutes, Quentin acted normal and confident, and his cock alternated between flaccid, slightly plumped, and even got totally erect at one point though he had hidden most of the shaft behind the large book he was reading in order to frustrate his son's gaze. It was now Quentin that was doing most of the distracting, and he was getting quite a lot of reading done. Blake had gone back to keeping his belly to the floor. Quentin found it amusing considering that he had now seen his son erect twice. The air was also quite thick with their musks, and the erotic notes were very pronounced. They were turning each other on, yet they did nothing about it. Blake was too scared even though he was desperate to do something, but Quentin finally felt perfectly confident and at ease with the whole thing. He was now playing around with his son, trying to push nudge him on, waiting for the right moment. He knew that they could not carry on like this indefinitely. They were going to have to admit to each other openly how much they wanted the other and finally enjoy themselves. It was the only natural conclusion, and Quentin felt good just knowing it and for being so lucky. When the clock struck eleven, it was time. Quentin put his book down. "It's time for me to get ready, son. You sure you don't want to come along with me tonight?" "No, thanks, Dad. Thanks for offering, though," Blake answered diplomatically. Quentin nodded. "You're quite welcome." He hoisted his massive body out of his chair, nicely plumped, and set off to get dressed. It did not take him long before he was dapper and handsome as could be in his suite and tie. He did up his cufflinks, buttoned his jacket, and went to get his long coat. He tied his scarf on first, slipped into the Harris tweed coat, and finally put his cap on. He checked himself in the hall mirror to make sure everything was on straight and then went back to the living room. "Come give your father a hug, Blakeson." For once, Blake was not completely erect, but still half way there. He quickly went into his father's outstretched arms and hugged him tightly. He soon felt his father's lower arm subtly pulled his front so it was pressed into Quentin's. They could feel their cocks bunching together. It was a nice feeling. "I'll be back in a few hours, son," Quentin finally said, patting Blake on the back gently. "Did you want to go walking around tonight after church to look at the lights on the Promenade and on people's homes?" Blake nodded eagerly. "Sure! You know I love doing that." Quentin beamed down at the young Amur. "I do. I'm glad for it. Just be sure to dress warmly. It's very frosty tonight, though they say the clouds may start moving in after midnight." Blake nodded. "I will. Don't worry. I know how to stay warm." "Yes, you do," Quentin answered cryptically before giving one of Blake's rump cheeks a firm pat and squeeze. He winked at the young Amur, touched his cap, and turned to leave. "Merry Christmas, son." Blake stood dumbstruck as his he listened to his father walk down the hall. He watched the towering Amur step into his loafers and let himself out of the flat. The sound of the deadbolt snapping in place, followed by the receding tread of his father's footsteps down the stairs. All the while he stood there with a raging erection between his legs.