Chapter 3: Thomas Is Alone
Thomas:
The happy reunion of my brother and his mate was, to me, a source of joy and satisfaction I'd not seen in many years. That being the case, it was also a source of deep longing for a love that strong. Unlike my younger brother, I had never had even one person that I could even say I'd ever had the slightest attraction to, male, female, or otherwise.
Like my brother, Blaine, I'm a fox. Unlike him, I am not exactly small. For most of my life, I've been involved in body building, or muscle growth using legal means. I'm not necessarily opposed to performance enhancing drugs, I just never saw the need, when to me it seemed best to get strong by natural means, like resistance training, use of my own body's weight, as well as hard physical labor. In the process, I went from being a one-hundred thirty pound waif, to a well-formed muscular two-twenty, at six feet.
My time working for law enforcement in both the prisons and the policing agencies had hardened my heart, and mind, it seemed, to the wiles of any of the attractive people in the world. I was, much to my dismay, destined to be a bachelor, I thought. And, life seemed to bear that out.
Happy as I was for my brother and brother-in-law-to-be, I could not seem to bring myself to a realization of love, despite my obvious desire for it. I have, for most of my life, accepted the fact that there were many beautiful people in the world, but believed that I was to be alone. This made for a lonely existence, one I filled with attempting to help my family in the best way possible, with time and money.
There was one individual, from my childhood, that I could say I loved, but in my adult days, I chalked that love up to a childhood friendly affection. That person was someone who went to the same classes as I did, and graduated the same year, but was whisked away to an out-of-state University, thanks to the over-bearing grandparents who had raised him during his mid-to-late teens. His name was Trace Stevens, and he was the absolute picture of a swimmer. He was a strange one, though, because he was a shifter. He had two forms, one being more dark-skinned human or elf-like in appearance, with pointed elven ears, with the other form being a rather fantastic looking African Savannah Cat. He stood about six feet, two inches, and weighed in at two hundred pounds. Also, in that school, it was considered bad taste for two males to have a loving relationship, so being the people-pleaser I was at the time, I intentionally blocked any of such feelings from even entering my consciousness.
So, this conscious subjugation of my own desires became normal, and subconscious to me, and I did so without thinking, not caring what it did to me mentally and spiritually. I refused to care, so long as I was helping my family, which I came to consider most important. The instant any thought came to my head, I seemed to push it away.
This continued into my thirty-fourth year, when the day of my brother's wedding to his mate came. The day was a beautiful Saturday, and practically every fur in our hometown was there. I was best man for my brother, and stood near the minister to await the end of the ceremony. I cannot tell you how happy I was for my brother and his mate.
As the minister opened the ceremony, I looked out over the crowd, and saw a face I never had thought to see again. It was Trace, and he looked incredible. His distinctly African features were unmistakeable, and for the first time in my adult life, I felt my stomach tighten and flinch, and my heart began to flutter. To my distinct embarrassment, my brother leaned over and hissed at me very quietly, "You're musking up the room, brother. I smell you." With that, he'd made the skin of my cheeks under my fur take on a blush. I was completely caught. I saw the cheeky grin on my brother's face, and I hung my head.
During the reception, I shook paws with guests, and got caught up in amusing conversation, when without warning, a scent I had not smelt in years wafted back to my nose. Hair on end, my muzzle shot up, as did my gaze, which landed on the vision of perfection that was Trace Stevens. He leaned in and hugged me, and said softly, "It's been a long time, old friend."
I swallowed hard, and said, "Y-yes, it has, Trace. How've you been?" I was certain he could smell me. My brother certainly could.
"I have been marginally well, Tommy. I missed you terribly." There it was. The thing that I'd sought for so long to stamp down had reared its very attractive head. I felt my long-unused member began to fill with blood. I thanked the maker of my tuxedo that the front of it covered my crotch area, preventing me from giving the guests an unwelcome show.
I nodded, and pulled an ever-present business card from my inner lapel, and handed it to him. "Call me tonight," I whispered, at once hoping both that he would call, and also that he'd toss the card and forget about me. I was, in that moment, in a rage of conflicting emotions and desires. The emotions and desired that wanted Trace in my arms were rapidly winning.
"I will. I promise." That was the thing that I feared most. He'd always kept his promises, as had I, and this fact was not at all lost on me. He would call.
That evening, I sat in my house, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, and nothing else. I had a deep dread of hearing his voice, afraid it would make me go crazy. I was almost ready to unplug the house phone and pull the battery from my cell phone, when the latter burbled, and an unknown number appeared. Tentatively, I answered, "This is Thomas."
"I told you I would call, Tommy." He'd kept his promise. "I wanted to talk earlier, but I could tell you were uncomfortable with that, mate." That word... Something in me twisted, and I started to tear up.
I again swallowed, and said, "Can you make it to that address, Trace?" I asked, meaning the one on the card I'd given him. I now intended to spill all of my feelings on him.
"Yes, I can. I am staying three blocks north of you. I will be there in a bit." With that, the line went dead, and I trembled for a moment, frightened more than any of the prisoners I'd dealt with had ever made me. I soon heard the doorbell ring, and I jumped up, and forced myself to stride to the door, and open it.
Trace entered silently, then shut the door behind himself. He looked into my eyes, and said softly, "Forgive me, Tommy, for what I must do." He strongly grabbed my shoulders, pinned me against the brick wall, and pressed against me, then kissed me, with full on tongue action.
The feelings washed over me, like a strangely pleasurable combination of fire and the coldest water, sending frissons of feeling over every inch of my body. Then, to my dismay, all the pleasure crashed in on me, and I stiffened in the throws of orgasm, filling my shorts with the pungent juice of my orgasm. His kiss had made me cum, and rather hard.
I was deeply chagrined.
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