Disorder Ch 02

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

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Disorder, Ch. 02

Accomplice

Charles: Hey, man, I need you.

Soren: What for?

Charles: I need picking up. Car's dead.

Soren: From where?

Charles: Sixty-six Nelson Street. Down on the corner. Can you make it?

Soren: Sure thing, on my way.

Oh, how much easier Soren's day would have gone if he had not pulled up at sixty-six with a smile on his face, a hard day at work good and done and the rush hour, also, nearly over. The city was quietening down on the work front while the tourist scene and nightlife ramped up for the weekend, a glittering, heaving mass of bodies all intent on having the best night ever, if not the best weekend ever. Getting off to meet up with his mate was not what Soren had expected on finishing work but that was the spark of unpredictability with Charles that he liked so much: he just didn't know what was going to happen at any given time. Often, it was a good thing. Yet not always. He may have done well to remember that.

But hey, there was no sense in turning down the chance to hang out with the man who had, at least, brought a splash of daring and colour to his life, even if he was as pale as a vampire. He hadn't always been so confident himself but something about the way that their relationship had gone made him keener than ever to get himself in the same car next to Charles again. After all... Soren smirked, although his lips only quirked up a little bit on one side. Well, Charles did give pretty good head. And the last time that he'd given the crazy man a blowjob too had been road head - a definite first for him. What was it about Charles that made him want to push those boundaries, to do things that made his normal life seem, well, pretty damn boring by comparison?

Sighing, he pulled up in front of the sports shop, which was flanked by a bank and a sandwich shop, all standing as forlornly as they had a few months back. Everything was always changing in the city, nothing staying the same for very long at all, and Soren knew well enough, even if he didn't want to actually acknowledge it, that he would have to change too. He'd changed his haircut, cropping the blonde (a darker, dirtier shade) short to his scalp so that his strong jaw would be show off but there was still a part of him that thought that was vain, despite the many hours he spent in the gym working on his physique. Soren, of course, had no reason at all to really want to muscle up, although some could have said, whether accurately or not, that it was his one vice. Yet it was something, still, that remained consistent, a lack of change that thrummed through his soul as if it needed to actively make itself known each and every day. Maybe Charles could be that change for him? But he was wrapped up in some dodgy things...

Soren grimaced and rolled his eyes. Yeah, maybe he would do better not to actually follow Charles' lead. That was a little too far.

Cars flashed by, the pace of traffic picking up as the standstill moved on, although it would still be a trial and a half to get Charles off to... Soren frowned and scratched the back of his neck. Just where was Charles going anyway? And where was he coming from? There had been a distinct lack of information in that exchange and only now was he beginning to question the why of it. After all, it was not as if Charles made a habit of asking him for rides. In fact, it was quite the opposite on that matter!

But there was no time to worry about that sort of thing as Charles strolled from the bank, a backpack in hand and his long jacket swinging about his legs as if he was wearing it as a sort of cape. The man in question, however, was no kind of superhero and swung easily into the car, which, to him, was easily recognisable, with a trademark grin that showed in a flash of perfectly white teeth. Which, in itself, was impressive as Soren doubted that Charles had even seen a dentist once in his entire life. Whether that was lucky or unlucky was another question entirely though...

"Hey, dude!"

Exhaling a puff of breath that could have been something of a grunt, Soren shook his head, flipping on the indicator to pull out, although he did not yet know where he was going.

"Since when do you say 'dude'?"

Charles grinned in yet another flash of white teeth, startlingly so. A scarf was wound around Charles' neck as if it had just been shoved there, rumpled and twisted and entirely not in line with his usual, quiet, sense of personal style, if it could even be called that.

"Oooh, I like it when you're feisty! Step on it!"

Without thinking, Soren did just that, pulling out into traffic as soon as there was a gap. Charles had the sort of voice about him that made it easy to just 'do' without thinking and he tootled along as the man beside him fidgeted, flipping his ponytail out of the way.

"Damn..."

Yet there was something wrong as Charles shifted his weight, glancing out the window and looking back over his shoulder, the backpack tucked between his feet safely in the passenger seat, although he did not give the impression of being a man who felt safe, at that moment in time, at all.

"So... What's new?" Soren probed, slipping the question out into the air between them. "Been a while, huh?"

"Can you go a little faster?"

Soren glanced at him, the window rolled down enough to allow a breath of what could not quite be called fresh air into the car.

"What's the hurry? And where to?"

"I'll direct you - just move it!"

And then Charles' hand was on the steering wheel, his gloves, for once, not fingerless so as to conceal his prints, yanking it to the side so that he cut across in front of a taxi, the driver blaring the horn and quite rightly so. Swearing, Soren yanked back control, half-wrestling with Charles even in the small, tight confines of a car that was, by no means, intended for such activity. Charles shouted, although it was a cry of strange joy rather than any manner of anger, and Soren nearly swerved into a van, wrenching back control with a spat out curse that was most unlike him, even with the company that he chose to keep (apparently).

"Jeez, what..."

But Soren's eyes widened, the crackle and buzz of the radio rising to fill the car; it must have been jostled when Charles lunged over so dramatically. It was not the fact that the radio was on, however, that drew him to a dead half, jaw slack and eyes glassy, but the news story that was playing, something that had been deemed, at least for the moment, important enough to interrupt whatever music had been playing beforehand.

It was hard to make it out, what with the jump and buzz of the radio, an old, decrepit thing that Soren could not quite bring himself to replace as yet, but if he listened hard... His foot inched down on the gas pedal, driving them on against his will, breath quickening in a chest that was, abruptly, all too tight. Harder... Harder to hear. Was that something about a robbery?

"You've got to be..."

He shot a look at Charles but he only half-shrugged, eyes dancing with glee.

"What?"

It was a bank, the radio report said, crackling on as Soren sweated, eyes dropping to that bag - that bag that Soren had never, not even once, seen Charles with. A bank that had been robbed. Recently, in fact. Very recently.

Oh no...

He wasn't listening. He really wasn't listening. And yet he had to.

A bank on...

Nelson Street. Of course, it had to be Nelson Street!

"You... Charles! What the hell?"

Baring his teeth in a feral, savage sort of grin, Charles jabbed him in the shoulder, a wild laugh ripping itself from his throat as the car dodged through traffic, geed on by Soren's shaking hands on the wheel, foot twitching down and down and down on the gas as if guided there by a superior force altogether. And, just like that, he was caught up in yet another of Charles' schemes, yet one that threatened to toss him overboard as soon as he thought, maybe, that he'd found his sea-faring legs after all!

"Better get moving then!"

What else could he do but heed his call and warning? Although, it had to be said, it was not much of a warning when he was all riled up and tossed into a god damn bank robbery of all things! His own mind tried to play it down as he ran through every last horrific scenario in his head, adrenaline up and pumping as he broke every road and traffic law in the book in his haste to escape, to, somehow, evade the law that surely had to be right up on his tail.

He would have sworn and screamed and yelled at Charles - hell, he would have been well within his rights to toss him from the damn car itself! And yet he did not, saving his breath for the task at hand, only wanting to get away, somewhere else entirely, even though there were no sirens or screeches on their back bumper as yet. His work bag slid about the back seat before toppling in a heap onto the floor but Soren was hardly thinking about that as he pounded the tarmac (figuratively!) and hightailed it...

...Just where was he going, exactly? Where would be safe? Would anywhere get him out of such a godforsaken mess?

"Take a left here," Charles put in helpfully, kicking his seat back and feet up on the dash, without a care in the world. "It'll be just down..."

"We are not going back to the fucking underpass!"

Soren snarled, eyes wild, although there was little he could do - unless, of course, he did actually want to hurl his friend from the car, which was still a very valid option - but listen, following direction. It got his blood up, breath raking through his lungs, adrenaline making him feel as if he was set back from the situation at hand, watching it play out through a glass screen of sorts.

"No, no... I got a better place."

Whether or not it was actually a better place to hide that Charles had in mind was up for debate but Soren didn't know if anything was safe. The thought that Charles was joshing him and just playing that he'd robbed the bank was still in the back of his mind and no one would have thought worse of him for hoping that it was some kind of elaborate prank, although he was mighty lucky all the same that he had not been caught speeding during the course of an escape without an active pursuit...

A disused parking garage on multiple levels offered some manner of sanctuary, although Soren could not help but spit and curse about what kind of hiding place it was meant to be when Charles had a bag full of god knows what bills with him. His heart pounded, seeming to attempt to drive a hole through his chest, but there was no rest or respite to be had as he panted heavily, striving to regain some sense of control over himself. That, however, proved to be a tall order as he tucked the car into the darkest, shadiest corner of the garage, the ground strewn with needles (they weren't even light enough on the ground to be missed) and all manner of rubbish.

As if skulking in a garage was going to do any good when the police or some kind of law-force had to be coming after them. Groaning, Soren put his head in his hands, rubbing his temples, sitting up and then hunching back over again, tension drawing painful lines through his body that could not be soothed through any means. If they got caught... Well, it wasn't as if Charles had ever gotten himself caught before but there was a first time for everything and, as much as he did like Charles (although that was very much up for debate at that time), he didn't want to be there when the law caught up with the ass either!

"Hey, man, relax," Charles laughed, shoving his shoulder in a brotherly, playful fashion. "Jeez, you really do worry too much. You really think I'd stick you right in trouble here? Nah... I got a plan. Nobody followed us, don't you worry your pretty little head about that."

Whipping about with a steely gaze, Soren lashed out, words coursing through the air between them like a hundred tiny blades. The venom contained within, of course, would be short-lived, fury born out of fear rather than true hatred or anything of that illicit ilk.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" He cursed, slamming the heel of his hand into the steering wheel, teeth grinding together as if something more formidable still lay behind them. "Roping me into...this shit! Do you have any idea at all what you've done?"

Opening the bag with a speculative look that was purely put on for show, Charles tapped one slender forefinger against his nose.

"Hm... Well, I'd say I set myself up for a few months."

Gaping, Soren spluttered and threw his hands about, mumbling something that could have been words but was really a stretch to consider such. The man was unbelievable - absolutely fucking unbelievable! And what was he thinking getting him involved, looking back at him with that shit-eating grin of his, like it was the biggest joke in the world? He wasn't even going to tell him what he wanted him and his car for - hell, he wouldn't have even known if not for the radio and that stupid report! Maybe ignorance really could be bliss but idiocy was Charles' strongest point if it counted at all for how he riled up his friend with a cocky grin and wink, lips perked up as if to frown would be against the very composition of his facial structure.

"Oh, lighten up, Soren!" He said, rolling his eyes even as he, very boldly, jabbed the larger man in the ribcage. "You should know that no one really comes to any harm from this, don't you? They hand over the money, no one suffers. Big banks have more than they know what to do with either and it's not an individual that suffers. I thought that was what you were all about anyway?"

That threw him, Soren opening and closing his mouth several times before scowling and slumping back in his seat.

"What does that mean then?" He demanded, lips twisted into an ugly expression. "Always speaking in riddles... God damn it, Charles... You're going to get into some real hell one of these days. And then what are you going to do?"

It wasn't a question that anyone was expected to answer and Charles only half-shrugged, lighting a cigarette and leaning back himself, the seat in Soren's old car clunking as it was forced into position. Soren grimaced. That needed looking at. Again.

"You never cared as long as I didn't go after anyone that would suffer," Charles said slowly and clearly, taking a long drag on his cigarette. "So, why do you care now? No one's gonna catch the plate of your car."

Soren's face paled and he pressed his fingers to his temples.

"The plate..."

"Ah, don't you fret your little head about that. The camera was taken out here weeks ago and, well, didn't you even notice that I swapped your plates last week? It's not like anyone's going to recognise a beat-up old thing like this with someone else's plates on it! These cars are a dime a dozen!"

"You..."

But the adrenaline was pumping, his heart rate up and cheeks flushed, although any sense of rage that he felt towards Charles quickly depleted. Okay, sure, the idiot had gone and done something right stupid but was he really in a position to contest that? It was Charles who would come under fire for it, not him, even though he would have very much preferred that Charles applied himself to less law-breaking means than ensuring that his friend didn't get caught up in the same mud as him, tarred by the same brush.

The space in the car, all of a sudden, seemed as close as it had that time in the stolen Lambo - a much smaller sort of crime but still of the kind that Soren had wished, at the time, that he could have gotten out of. Of course, he always had the option to not engage or keep in with Charles - he was never forced or anything like that - but there was still something about the thrill and the pump of desire coursing through him, that need for something to take him away from the ebb and flow of mundane life, if only for a time, that kept him coming back for more each and every time he swore he would not, not ever again.

Never again. Of course. Until the next time.

Charles leaned in, exhaling a drag of his cigarette to the side even as he moved, considerate but not so considerate that he could be thought to be someone other than who he was. After all, there was only so much that a man could do to grow and Charles was quite happy with the way he was, a wicked sort of twinkle lurking in the back of his eyes, long hair falling forward where it had come free from his trademark ponytail.

Soren sucked in a breath. He remembered holding that ponytail...in the midst of doing things that should never have been talked about in polite company. And yet it didn't seem that he kept very polite company at all those days, not at all. And he didn't want that to change either.

"Get with the program, Soren," Charles breathed, his face very close to his friend's, smoke shared between two lungs. "You know there's no risk... I'm small fry. Ain't nobody gonna waste their time coming after me. So, why don't you relax and enjoy yourself for a while? Blood pounding..."

Chuckling lightly, he licked his lips, eyes taking on a wicked gleam.

"The adrenaline... That's gotta feel real good, right? Go with it. You know you want to..."

And that was all that was needed to close the distance, the crackling air of tension searing through as Soren growled and grabbed Charles' face, dragging him to him for a kiss that was more of a passionate bite than anything else. Soren groaned as he nipped Charles' lower lip, only the other man's quick action and coarse laugh saving him from something altogether rougher than may have been intended, although it was hardly as if he was going to pull away. Oh no... Charles smirked and pulled Soren with him from the car, a bulge already drawing up the front of his black pants, obvious and lewd and oh so very wanton. There was so much more fun to be had when one's blood was up and need full and thick and...

But words were too much for such a situation as the relief and stress came to a head with Soren, Charles dodging his thick and heavy attempts at grasping - really, that may have taken things a little too far! - and yanking down his work trousers, shoes still smart for the office. He wasn't in a suit but Charles still mocked him relentlessly for his attire or, at least, he would have if he wasn't so very intent on sucking his shaft instead, freeing the beast with a deft and very well practised flick of his wrist. His gloves hit the floor, no longer having any need for them, and he pumped Soren's cock to full hardness with one hand as the larger man groaned and heaved, leaning over against the car for balance.

"Fuck..."

Oh, the curse was just how Charles knew that he had him, Soren right where he wanted him - where he needed him. There was just something too alluring about sucking him off and he moaned for Soren's benefit as he took his cock into his mouth, skilfully loosening his belt off with his free hand. He wouldn't have wanted to leave himself out, after all, and everything was better with that added edge of lust and pleasure to drive things on, to pound all to a throbbing crescendo that could have been raw need or could have just been blood rushing to their heads.

Words failed Soren in the heat of the moment, hips grinding and working seemingly of their own accord as he thrust and drove into Charles' mouth, his body knowing the motions instinctively. Hell, they'd fucked enough... He could not have said that his mind was entirely his and working clearly at that time but neither did he care as he let out a lustful, feral snarl, Charles trapped on his knees between Soren and the car, cock out and ready for action.