FSE

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3

Rai slid the Old Fashioned to Nomac and took the other guy's money. He smirked as he walked off--smirked and shook his head. The coyote ignored him and turned slightly, softening his gaze and taking in his new friend.

A black lab: not a bad looking guy, either.

Actually, Nomac pondered, not bad looking enough to be in this bar, not the kind of ruffian the coyote was used to seeing and beating off or taking to the back. Not specifically in that order either. He almost laughed at the sight of him, but he thought better of it. The guy just bought him a drink after all. He was obligated to show a little common courtesy, play the part of "grateful and interested."

And he was interested; fascinated in the sense of a seasoned explorer discovering new territory in a land thought thoroughly scoured. This guy was something else. This guy was too...clean. Too fresh; straight off of the queer factory floor. He was wearing a polo, for God's sake; a baby-blue polo. It was cute; the cute you can only say in a high-pitched babying voice. He reminded Nomac of himself when he'd first started college, when he thought "sexy" was a popped collar, aviators, and binge-drinking every weekend with frat brothers...and then fucking said frat-brothers. Or getting fucked. Tomato, toe-mah-toe.

He'd outgrown that real quick, though.

The guy was just staring at him with round, eager eyes brown as rye bread, elbow propped on the bar, head propped in that hand. He was flexing his bicep; it jumped like it was hooked to a car battery. His front was aimed toward Nomac, thick chest bunched in the confines of his tight shirt, legs splayed open like a denim snare trap. The coyote felt the urge to stick his hand in. Frat-lab would probably wet himself with excitement. Maybe he'd squeal. He looked like a squealer. He was all but moaning at Nomac giving him the once over, and--no doubt--the coyote was enjoying the sight.

But the guy was trying really hard. Too hard. It was suspicious. His confidence made Nomac uncomfortable, but he was snagged.

"Heh," the lab huffed. He leaned closer, grinning, eyes half-closed as he pointed to Nomac's ears. "Your gauges are great. They look good on you."

Nomac fought off a scowl. Fuckin' ears, he thought. Seriously? What is it with the ears?

"Thanks," he said.

"Not too big, but not too small either," lab said. "Just right."

His eyes flicked to the drink before Nomac then back to the coyote.

_ Throw the dog a bone,_ he thought, taking a sip of the drink. The lab's tail started to wag. Nomac heard it popping against the bar stool.

"You're eyes, too," lab said dreamily, his own eyes anywhere but on Nomac's face.

He was trying to get a sense of the guy beneath the clothes, but Nomac purposefully wore his stuff too baggy when he went out. To him it was a mind game. He liked being mysterious in a sense. He didn't want to project too much of himself, leave a bit to their imagination. It had turned the tables before, taken guys by surprise.

And he was a bit self-conscious.

"My eyes, huh?" Nomac said, sitting the drink down. "Just right?" He brushed his bangs aside, revealing his emerald peepers some more.

"Mmhmm."

"Thanks. You're sweet," Nomac murred, smiling, playing cute. He mimicked the lab and propped himself on the bar, coiling his tail.

He knew there was a time to play coy, and that there were times not to. Like now. He flicked his feline-like tail out and brushed the guy's ankle. The lab's eyes widened but he smiled. Nomac zeroed in. "Yours are pretty...right, too." He twiddled a finger over the dog. "Not to mention your body. That's more than just right." He smiled, nibbling preciously on his lip, turning his body toward his admirer and spreading his legs. "It's all kinds'a right."

The guy's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, eyes widening as they focused on the coyote's crotch then flicked back to his face. He was probably blushing. "Oh, heh, th...thanks," he said, turning his torso shyly.

Nomac grinned. The lab was flustered. He wasn't used to hitting on guys...or getting hit on by guys, obviously. The big dog had become a kid in the coyote's eyes. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, poor thing--didn't know what he was getting into.This could be fun.

So long Coy-Boy; it was time to be bold.

Nomac reached out gently and stroked the guy's leg. He immediately tensed, as expected. But he didn't pull away. That Adam's apple was flinging around in his throat, though; his floppy ears were sharply perked. He glanced at Nomac's paw on his leg, into Nomac's face soft and unreadable, then to his own crotch. It was bulging.

The coyote sighed inwardly. He'd gotten hard from that: a simple stroke.

Just a kid.

"What's your name, stud?" Nomac asked.

"De...Denver."

The coyote nodded. Nice name; rustic, poetic. It made Nomac think of acoustic guitars and plane crashes. He bet this guy liked the outdoors. He seemed nice. He bet this guy was actually nice. They were never this nice.

He bet this guy had never had sex with another male, either. Wanted to? Nomac eyed the impressive tent in Denver's jeans and thought, duh.

"You go to AU?" he asked, taking back his paw and sipping his drink, eyes on the lab the whole time. The dog nodded, still trying to hide his straining manhood. Nomac crossed his legs. "What's your major?"

"I haven't, uh..."

"Undecided?"

He nodded again. Nomac nodded, too, understanding.

Denver was a freshman; he was vulnerable.

He was a liability.

The lab cleared his throat and drummed his fingers across the bar, peering over Nomac's shoulder. Maybe toward Rai. Maybe at a clock. Maybe at another guy.

Maybe he was getting scared.

Then Nomac felt his phone go off in his pocket. It was on vibrate, but Denver's ears flicked at the buzz of it. The coyote ignored it though, focusing on the lab instead.

The dog waited for the phone to stop, and then he scratched his chest, the muscle popping against the fabric of his shirt. "You go there, too?" he asked.

Nomac smiled. "Yeah, I'm a junior."

That seemed to take the dog by surprise. His fingers ceased their beat. "Oh," he muttered. His brow furrowed, eyes scrunching up. "How old are you?"

"Heh," Nomac said chuckling. He leaned closer to the dog. "What difference does that make?"

Adam's apple. "Uh...it doesn't, I guess. I mean, you look...you look young."

The coyote genuinely grinned. "Oh?"

"Yeah."

Nomac cocked his head to the side. "How young?"

Denver shrugged. His shoulders were really nice and round. "I dunno--at least 21." His brown eyes roved over their surroundings. "We are in a bar, after all."

The coyote smirked. At least the dog was intelligent to a certain degree. That was nice; a guy with a hot body, a decent head on his bulging shoulders and a monstrous bulge in his designer jeans.

Nomac's belly fluttered. He bit his lip again and grinned. Maybe the dog wasn't such a liability; maybe he'd be getting that warm body he'd been craving after all.

"So 21?" he chirped.

Denver half smiled half grimaced, not saying a thing. Nomac bet the dog was fretting over whether or not to speak his mind. He was probably wondering if gay guys were as touchy about their age and appearance as women were. Again, he was cute. Again, he was inexperienced.

And, again, Nomac's phone decided to go off. He didn't attempt to hide his scowl of frustration, and Denver chuckled nervously, fidgeting while they waited for the device to die.

That infamous Adam's apple sank again. Nomac relaxed as best as he could.

"Well," he sighed. "How old are you then, big guy?"

The dog bucked up, tail popping the stool again. "22."

_ Wow,_ Nomac thought. Late bloomer stuck in the confines of the closet. Ouch.

He should have felt complimented by the dog mistaking him for a younger guy, he knew, but the fact that he was three years older than Denver killed that pleasant feeling. Three years may not have seemed like a big gap, but--to Nomac--that was three years of differing experiences, 1096 days more than the dog had, 26,297 hours of life the dog could never begin to comprehend. To Nomac that gap was enormous. To Nomac, Denver was a baby and he was an old man. He was tarnished and broken by time and bad choices, and Denver was still relatively pure...as far as he could tell.

He'd ruin this guy. He couldn't do that. It happened to him, and he wasn't going to screw someone else up just for a night of pain relief. He'd have to wait for someone like himself to come along, someone else life had smacked into the gutter.

Nomac sighed heavily and turned away from the dog, roughly stroking his clenched eyes. The bar's phone began ringing. He heard Rai's sultry voice over the white noise of the bar as he answered. Then his head started to pound.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

"Huh?" the dog asked concernedly, daring to reach out a paw and place it on Nomac's thigh. "What's the ma..."

"Oy!" boomed the lion bartender. Nomac jumped; Denver did, too. "Coy!"

Nomac groaned and glared at Rai. His head hurt. The lion held up the phone's receiver, locked eyes with him, and curled a clawed finger to beckon him over.

"Goddammit," the coyote growled. He stood, not even attempting to fake a pleasant voice as he barked an "I'll be back" at Denver. The dog just nodded stiffly and watched him slip from his stool and stride bitterly to Rai leaning on the bar.

"Who is it?"

The lion frowned heavily, his top lip curling back slightly to reveal a sharp fang. "Watch your tone." He held the phone out, already turning away. "And who the hell do you think it is? Robert De Niro? You know I don't like getting house calls, Coy." He jabbed a finger at Nomac as the coyote took the phone, glaring all the while. "I don't give a damn if you've got a mouthful of cock, the next time you'd better answer your fucking cell or I'll toss you out on your skinny ass. I'm not your secretary. This isn't your fucking office. Got it?"

Nomac's ears fell flat as he nodded. He knew Rai meant what he said, but even when he was growling and baring his teeth he was hot as hell. He gave Nomac a final cold stare, yanked his rag out of his apron, then tromped down the bar wiping it as he went.

Reluctantly he put the receiver to his ear. He didn't want this right now. Damn, his head hurt.

"What the fuck, Vaughn," he growled.

His roommate's normally pleasant voice cut through the phone sharp and menacing.

"What the hell are you doing, Mac? Why didn't you answer your phone?"

The coyote glanced back toward Denver still sitting and staring at him. He looked perplexed and shifty. He looked like he was ready to take off.

"I'm busy, Vaughn."

"Bullshit. You're wallowing--trying to get fucked."

"Since when is that any of your concern?" Nomac snarled. Then he winced as eyes all over the bar turned toward him. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper and focused his malice like a beam into the phone. The door to the bar slammed. His ears flicked toward it but he didn't look that way. "You're not my goddamn mother," he said. "Let me do what I have to do and don't stick your nose into it."

"Fine..." Vaughn said. Then there was a click as he hung up. Nomac put the receiver back, turned, and nearly leaped out of his skin as he glimpsed his fox/wolf roommate suddenly right before him, his clothes sopping wet, his fist pulled back and clenched. "...I'll just stick something else into it, you dumb fucker."

Adam's apple.

_ CRACK._