The Love we Hide (Gay Furry Romance/Thriller story) MA15+

C1P6 - New road *reworked

Kevin POV  *New character*

I may be the only fur in the history of this country road, to walk completely stark naked down it.

Cars were as abundant as I was, in the sense that in the entire time I've been going leg by leg along this hot soil, only one had driven past. It had been a roughed up, ute looking thing. A shitbox, as my very abusive father would say. Father in law, may I quickly emphasise.

Poetic, I am. A coyote, too. The best coyote you'll ever meet. Ears bitter, ragged as the cud. Is that how that quote goes? Its a war poem. I'm in one myself, with all this heat.

Red soil, staining and hot. My dick sunburnt. My fur stinging and itching. I'm a ditcher of winter restrains. Uncoiled, umasked of my snow-born cocoon.

In other words, I had left my winter clothes on the road behind me hours ago, back when the sun had just risen. Unlike the campsite miles and miles to my rear, it ain't winter on this road. The roasted undersides of my hind paws say that it is quite the contrary. I'm not a tall thing. I'm not particularly attractive. I'm as straight as the right angles they used to always teach about in trigonometry. My paw is shaped like one, too.

I had badly sprained it, bailing from the taxi back at the camp, after the driver had a good feel up of my very underaged body. 17 years old, I am. And my wrist had just cracked its own nerves against the corner of the gutter in my spluttering roll of momentum, the aftermath of pulling the plug - though in that sticky, literal sense it had been the door handle.

Shame that Vince hadn't been there.

Boyfriend. Just got him. Caught him like a Pokemon in that cool game... what was that game called... that one with all the Pokemon in it... in other words, camp was just that perfectly coordinated session of snuggling for me to fall in love with him, that big bad wolf. Very bad. Very big. And down there, let me tell ya, very much a wolf.

Regardless, water is my everlasting goddess. I'm as dry as the foreskin that I'd left at hospital nearly two decades ago. Water, wetness in that liquidated ecstasy.

My phone rings, and as I take it out of my pocket, its a wonderful mess of cracks and shatters. Not an expensive phone, mind you. Can only afford flip-phones with my dad's (stepdad, please) budget - which really is no money at all. That shit-dripped husky contributes nothing to child-support, and I live with him. He likes to hit me when I talk about it. I like to be hit. Gives me a chance to swipe loose cash out from his whiskey-stained pockets.

"Heyo, its Kevin or something." I say into it, then flip it around the right way, some glass digs into the side of my ear.

"Huh." Says this gravely voice. Vincent's only other love than me was smoking, alcohol, and throwing things at walls until they make loud noises. Sometimes this includes other furs. "I thought you would have given me a fake number."

"We haven't fucked yet." A poet, in the way I've said that. "That means I have to hang out with you until we do."

"Oh," God, I love his laugh. Its more refreshing than a glass of water out here could ever be. "You just gonna one-night-stand me then?"

"Yeahhhh." I say, because I'm trying not to chuckle, and I need to distance the phone for a second just to get one out. "Or two-night stand. Maybe three or four. Depends."

"On what...?"

"On how good you are at it." Yes, I'm a real Shakespeare.

I can hear him pondering out his thick, wolfish head on that other end. Cracks, cuts and all; I'd pull myself through this phone to him had I had the chance. Fuck it; break my other arm for it, too, to bail back into his warm arms.

Warm, not hot, though. But it turns out I don't need to do anything:

There's the hum of an engine. Coughing and eating away at gas as though they were jerky-strips in that gas-station I'd gone past four hours ago. Turning, looking. Coyote ears flicking, squinting to keep the dust out. There's a complete shit-box of a car. The colour of one, too. Slowly tailing behind me.

"You know, Kev," Vince starts, I can tell he's grinning. I can see it, through that windscreen tinted with the efforts of insects. "I might just need to break up with you."

The relief is so much that I almost laugh for the sake of it. "And why's that, Vinny?"

"Because I've just found myself the most handsomest coyote just now. Wow, and he's naked too."

"Wish I was there," I chuckle, and I hear him rev the engine playfully. "I'd like a piece of that."

"Don't you worry Kev, I'll make sure to enough for the both of us."

The shitbox's door swings open on such a dodgy angle, that for a second I'm self-persuaded that it will just fall off. But only thing landing on that red soil are Vince's feet. He's got sunnies on and a cigarette in his mouth. He also looks very happy to see me. And I'll take you this, just this once, if you ever find a guy who smiles every time he sees you, he's a keeper.

"Got to go, Kev. Gotta, you know..." The voice on the phone is a crackly echo against the real one.

"I understand. Well, have fun with your new coyote." I fake a sigh.

"Will do." He says. "See ya never."

That tickles me fancy clearly, because I'm laughing heartily at that. Maybe it's just the relief? "See ya never..."

Then I've got these arms of midnight fur clasped around me and over my back, and next thing I know is this heavy scent of cigarette smoke wafting up my muzzle. I breathe him in as though he were oxygen, pulling my own arms tightly around him. Just his heartbeat, just listening to it with my head to his chest - a tall wolf, he is - is better than music.

"Missed you." He says. And from that deep, thoughtful tone, I know that I'm safe.

It's a good sound, he's made. Those warm vibrations in his chest. I'm too entranced by them to even respond. Also, amongst that surplus of serotonin I'm smelling, I've got that sensation of my naked body pressed against his clothed one. Feels great - his clothes are cool from his car's air-conditioning.

"You on your way into town?" Into my ears, from his warm chest.

I nod.

And he must have felt it because he chuckles and pulls me tighter. It feels like he takes the effort of making his mind before he says "You like road trips?"

"I like being in cars." I say with a shrug.

He smiles, "That'll do."

Fur, pungent with sweat. Neck warmed by wolfish warmth. Steam, only water for miles, blowing down onto my bare back. Muzzle as its windpipe, sharp fangs as its filter. "Kev?"

"Yo."

We pull out of the hug, and crikey me does this wolf suddenly look uncertain. Tight frown, eyes wider. A brilliant red, they are. Like explosions in a sunny Caribbean. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Okay..." I reckon he's just pulling tail on this one.

Its a good act, if he's playing one. Convincingly nervous. Even his bushy tail struts the soil between his hindpaws. He has large paws, if you know what I mean. "I'll tell you over a milkshake. Let's just enjoy ourselves in the meantime." His paws back on my shoulder, relieving me of my hormonal urges to constantly be touching him. Playing detective with his well-earned muscles as my crime scenes, with the crime yet for me to commit.

"Sure." Fuck... huh, he's serious, isn't he?