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Something I always thought about. No matter a win or a loss, it was always loud. I think the only difference was between how unbearable it was.
There was always the band blaring, the stands shaking, the roar of thousands of voices. Not always the PA guy losing his fucking mind over the horn like we’d just split the atom or something, but he was special.
Helmets knocked against mine, gloves slapped against my back and head. Someone had their hands on both shoulders and was screaming straight into my face. Somebody else was laughing like a psycho, actually, I could feel him, a coyote trying to climb me like a ladder while he yelled “THAT’S HIM! THAT’S OUR GUY!”
“Hell yeah, Anon!”
“Big man, keep that shit up!”
“Tight end my ass, you might as well be a wideout!”
I was grinning so hard my jaw hurt. The final score glowed above the far end zone, bright against the evening sky. 27-24. I’d dragged a linebacker two yards past the goal line with the ball tucked against my chest. Game winner. Not bad for a guy who’s only job, according to half of the team, was to run into other guys until someone got a CTE.
The boys faded back as the Coach grabbed the back of my helmet coming off the field shaking me by it, the literally fucking goat almost yanking my head off. “That’s how you finish.”
I laughed. “Yes, sir!”
Then the boys were on me again. Other humans, wolves, bulls, a crocodile lineman. We all stank to high hell and looked like shit, but we didn’t care. Or at least, they didn’t care. As I ripped my helmet off, I felt like I was on top of the world.
The cheer squad spilled from the sideline as I was finally beginning to catch my breath, girls in blue and white, pom-poms fluttering too and fro, bows bouncing, tails flicking, ears up, feathers ruffled, laughing and hugging, caught up in the same post-game high as the rest of us.
I didn’t even want to look at the other team.
The boys backed off of me for just a bit when I spotted a cream-colored blur cutting straight through the crowd at me like a missile. I couldn’t process exactly what was happening until he was airborne.
“Anon!” He hit me square in the chest, arms wrapping around my neck, thighs clamping around my waist. I caught him automatically, one arm under him, the other around his back, and stumbled a couple steps before I managed to stave off a fall.
“Jesus, El-”
He kissed me. Full on, mouth on, returning-from-war kiss. His mouth was warm and soft and as full as ever, ears falling on either side of my head, one brushing my cheek. He tasted like mint gum and Gatorade. One of his hands hooked around my neck and I feel into it.
For a second, it was like the stadium had gone quiet. Then someone behind me went, “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH!!”
The team exploded again.
“Anon’s got himself a fucking bunny!”
“I knew it! I fucking knew you two were fucking!”
“Hell yeah, big man!”
Elliot pulled back just enough to take in a breath, eyes wide and shining, lips parted in a dumb, gorgeously helpless smile. His face was flushed beneath the pale fur along his cheeks, and the blonde tuft he always kept dyed between his ears had come loose and hung crooked over an eye. Then his ears twitched, and abruptly flattened as he realized where he was. In my arms, in front of the entire team and half the god damned school.
I looked at him, and he looked at me.”
“Hi,” he said. I laughed before I could help myself.
“Hi?”
His smile widened. “You were really good out there.”
“Yeah?”
“You were really, really good.”
Somebody slapped the back of my shoulder pads. “He fucking better be, if he gets that after every game.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ramos,” I called back.
Ramos cupped his hands around his mouth. “NO SHAME IN LOVE, BROTHER!”
That got plenty of laughter.
I caught one or two looks from a couple guys from the edge of the throng surrounding us, some a little stiff, a little surprised. One of the freshmen linebackers was staring at me like…I don’t really know what like. Like I’d spit in his face.
Elliot shifted in my arms, trying to act normal. Which was a little weird, a little hard, given that his legs were still wrapped around me.
“Sorry,” he said, quietly.
I raised an eyebrow. “For what?”
He bit his lip and rolled his eyes. “For outing us to the entire sideline…” he said, quieter.
“Just the sideline?”
His eyes flicked around, bright green, sharp and nervous and as beautiful as ever. “Well…in about thirty minutes, the entire school, yeah.”
I adjusted my grip under him because he was starting to slide, which made his ears shoot straight up and goaded a chorus of howls from the guys.
“Carefu, Anon!”
“Hands where we can see ‘em!”
Elliot buried his face against the side of my helmet and made a noise like a dying animal.
“You want down?”
“No,” he said instantly.
“Then stop acting like a pansy.”
He lifted his face again. God, he was pretty when he was happy. Though he was pretty most of the time. Full mouth, perpetually bright eyes, soft cheeks, narrow shoulders, long limbs. In anything other than the cheer uniform, he’d blend into the student body without much ado, but with it on?
Blue and white sleeveless top, cropped just enough to show a strip of lean stomach. Fitted skorts (skirt/short combination) that didn’t do a single thing to hide the soft curve of his hips or the heart shaped swell of his rear end. Long legs, white shoes and socks that matched his fur.
He was definitely motivating to look at, one hundred percent.
Ramos drifted closer again, grinning like a shark. Which fit, cause his mom WAS one. “So is he coming into the locker rooms with you, or…”
Elliot, still clinging to me, looked him dead in the eye, answering for me. “No.”
“Damn.”
“As a matter of fact, I should let him off to the lockers. He smells like a wet laundry bag.” Elliot said, nodding at me.
I nodded mockingly. “I do…that didn’t stop you much though, did it?”
“No,” he said with a soft smile. “It really didn’t.”
That got a fresh wave of noise from the few boys who were still paying attention. Coach barked for us to get a move on, and the rest of the guys started peeling away, jogging toward the tunnel, helmets coming off, towels and icepacks appearing.
Elliot finally slid down from my arms, though he did it reluctantly. His feet touched the turf, but he stayed pressed to my side, one small hand hooked around my forearm. We walked toward the tunnel together, the crowd still roaring behind us. Above, the sky was turning purple, stadium lights fighting off the evening. He was warm from performing, the faintest smell of perspiration clinging to his uniform, breathing a touch hard.
As we entered the tunnel, the boys started up again.
“Players only!”
“Anon, get your man out of her before Coach has a conniption.”
“Hold on, hold on. Coach might let him stay, I mean…he can probably catch better than Smith, right?”
Smith’s indignant ‘Fuck you,’ was drowned out by the roar of laughter, and I couldn’t help myself but to smirk at the joke. Elliot just buried his face in my arm.
By the locker room doors, I stopped. The noise flowed around us, players pushing inside, athletic trainers calling out. Elliot's hand slipped from my arm to my wrist, then my hand, fingers intertwining with mine.
“I should probably let you go, huh?”
“Yeah, probs.”
He didn’t. His eyes flicked toward the locker room, then back to me. “Are you mad?”
“What? No. Why would I?”
“Because..you know…I was just so ex-”
“El.” His mouth closed. “I’m not mad. Like, even a bit. It’s not like we were really keeping it THAT much of a secret.”
He softened, nodding his head. “Ok.” He stepped forwards, rising onto the balls of his feet to give me a light kiss, soft.
“I’ll wait outside,” he said.
“Give me a bit. Coach is gonna yell about some shit, like always. Alright?”
“Ok.” His face bloomed into a smile again and he walked backwards a few steps, still watching me like if he looked away I was liable to blow away. Then he turned and loped to the end of the tunnel, the slight tuft of his tail immediately catching my eye. There, the cheer squad ambushed him, girls surging around him. A repeat of what I’d just gone through not even 10 minutes ago.
I went into the locker room and was immediately assaulted by a flying towel.
“Loverboy!”
“I didn’t know you were into bunnies Anon…or guys!”
The locker room was nothing but steam from the showers and stink from everything else. Somebody was already blaring shitty music and as I moved to strip the pads and everything else off, Coach moved towards the middle of the room, droning on about how we played sloppy, that we got lucky off of my catch, so on and so on. The room went through the normal motions, but I was a bit keyed out. There was somewhere I’d rather be.
I was examining a particularly nasty bruise along my ribs when Ramos leaned over from a couple lockers down. “Ouch man, that looks bad. Who was it, number 32?”
I shook my head. “Nah, 44. The big bastard, the horse. Hit me like a fucking truck.”
“Elliot gonna kiss that better?”
I groaned. “Dude, are you twelve?”
“I’m invested! Me and Tate have been wondering if you two were a thing for ages.”
“You’re not invested. You have a concussion. And what do you mean that you and Tate were wondering? Please don’t tell me that you’ve been spreading rumors.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Dude. Anon. It’s not like you’ve been subtle.”
Tate spoke from across the aisle. “You eat lunch with him and him alone every single day.”
“That’s not that weird!”
“He joined the cheer team like, a week after the two of you started hanging out.”
“That literally doesn’t mean anything.”
Ramos leaned in, “Look man. I SAW him in your team hoodie the other day. You know, the ratty as fuck one?”
That, I didn’t have a response to.
It didn’t take long for the team to clean up after that. The plans started bubbling up. Burgers, Pizza. Beer. Normal, after win stuff. But tonight, I didn’t really feel like going. By the time I left the locker room, the stadium had started to empty. THe roar had broken down into little bundles of talking, laughter, distant cars starting. My hair was still damp from the shower, and my whole body was going into that state where the endorphins where wearing off and the pain was settling in.
Elliot was waiting near the outer doors. He’d put on a cropped team jacket over his uniform, slightly too big for him, and his ears were damp at the tips and he had a little spray bottle in one hand. When he spotted me, his face immediately brightened.
“There he is~”
I walked up to him, and he tucked the spray bottle into his bag, immediately taking my arm.
“Always psyches me out when I see you watering yourself.”
“Yeah, it’s too bad I can’t sweat as much as your gross ass, Anon.”
I laughed and then sucked in a breath, ribs aching. His face immediately became the very picture of concern. “You ok?
“Just a little bruised. I’ll be fine.”
He started fussing, badgering me on how bad it was, where it was, if I had an ice pack on it, why didn’t I…the whole nine yards. It was his thing, to be a bit of a worrywart. I found it endearing.
I was desperate to finally be away, but we were still stopped a few times on the way to my car. A few guys wanted to shake my hand. A kid wanted a picture. Two girls from cheer shouted something to Elliot I couldn’t quite pick up, but it made his ears go flat and his mouth go very tight. When we finally got in, he buckled himself in and turned sideways in the passenger seat to stare at me.
Through me starting the engine and pulling out of the lot, he kept on staring. At the first red light, I glanced over. “What?”
“Nothin’”
“That’s not a nothing sorta thing to be doing, Elliot.”
“What, I can’t look at my boyfriend?”
That always got me. Boyfriend. Elliot was a lot more liberal with it than I was, not because I was afraid of the word, but because it had a certain connotation to me. Elliot was the first…person I’d ever been in a relationship with (I know-late as hell), and I hadn’t particularly thought of myself as…well, gay? But something about him…
My musing was stopped as he grinned again.
“Babe. You did so well.”
I tried to suppress my own smile. “Yeah, you know you already said that, right?”
“Yeah, but…you did so well!”
“I caught exactly ONE pass.”
“And?”
“And I missed a couple blocks in the second quarter, that wasn’t that great.”
He frowned, his flat little nose scrunching up. “So? You won the game, against North Ridge. In front of everyone.” He leaned closer, seat belt pulling across his chest. “And you looked extremely hot doing it, by the way.”
I didn’t answer right away, mainly because I was trying hard to focus on the road instead of on him. One of his ears twitched.
“Was that too much?”
“No. No, that was uh…that was pretty good.” I glanced over, spotting the blush spreading over his ears. “And you looked pretty hot yourself out there.”
Elliot slapped my arm. “I know I did, but I don’t remember you glancing over at me even once, babe, you don’t have to lie,” he said with a snicker, before rolling the window down a few inches. “Is it hot in here, or is that just me?”
This was one thing Elliot always moaned at me about. My car wasn’t the greatest, and the aircon hadn’t worked since I’d bought it. I didn’t really know before I started dating Elliot, but apparently rabbits can have a bit of a hard time cooling down…especially in cars, with minimal airflow. That spray bottle he had before appeared in his hand, spritzing at his ears like he was a houseplant.
His jacket was sliding off one shoulder, and beneath it, the glittery cheer top clung to him. His legs were folded awkwardly underneath him because he loved contorting himself into shapes when he could just as easily sit like a normal creature, one knee tucked up, a foot braced on the edge of the seat, hip cocked .
He looked beside himself. Like, estactic. As if he’d been the one to cross the goal line. I said as much.
He blinked, pausing the spritzing. “Of course I’m happy. I’m with you.”
I tried to brush that off. “Y-yeah, I mean. You’re really happy.”
“I like it when people see you.” He shrugged.
“But they see me all of the time?”
“No they don’t.” He shook his head, ears wobbling. “They don’t see how much of a hard worker you are. Or how fucking great you are at literally everything. Tonight everybody saw exactly what I see in you.”
I exhaled through my nose and glanced out the window. “Hey, stop with the sappy shit, please? I don’t want to die of diabetes.”
That got me a sharp smack to the arm. “Ok, fuck you then, asshole.” We both laughed at that, and for a few moments we drove on. The stadium shrank away behind us, blooding into the rest of the town. Fast food signs and stoplights smearing across the windshield.
He leaned forward over as much as the seatbelt would allow and planted a warm kiss on my cheek. “I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend.”
“God, you’re laying it on thick today El.”
“Because I want you to know.”
By the time we made it to my apartment, the soreness had started to properly settle in. Getting out of the driver's seat was a little less smooth than typical. Elliot noticed but didn’t make much of a fuss of it, just coming around, grabbing my bag before I could say anything, and walked with me the whole way up.
The apartment was dark, thank god. I had no idea where my roommates were but I didn’t really care. Just hoped they’d stay gone for at least a couple of hours.
“Roomates gone?” Elliot asked, kicking off his shoes.
“Yeah, seems like it.”
“Nice.”
I glanced at him. He was trying very hard to sound casual, which was weird since he’d been in my apartment maybe a hundred times at this point. He set my bag down on couch, turned to face me, and pointed.
“Shirt off.”
I raised my eyebrows at him, grinning. “You really can’t wait like, thirty fucking seconds?”
His ears flared. “Not like that. I saw you try to bend out of the car. That bruise is pretty bad, isn’t it?”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Babe.” There it was. That tone that brooked absolutely no contest. That was the Elliot I knew, behind the big eyes and between those nervous ears, a headstrong little tyrant. So I took off my shirt.
The bruise had bloomed a touch larger along my ribs, dark. Elliot’s face tightened when he saw it, stepping closer.
“Christ, babe.”
“It’s really not that bad.”
His fingertips brushed near the bruise, light as feathers. He made a distressed little sound and pointed me towards the couch.
“Sit.”
“Yes, sir!” His ears twitched at that as I reclined, quickly scurrying off to retrieve an ice pack from the fridge. He returned, the thing wrapped in a dish towel, and settled in beside me, close. Very close. He held the ice gently against my side and I winced.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s ok.”
Elliot looked down at the ice pack, adjusting it here and there.
“So….we’re public now.”
“Yeah. Seems like.”
His ears lowered slightly. “You sure you’re ok with that?”
I leaned back against the cough, tired enough to not exactly want to think about it. “I mean…Parents are probably gonna be surprised, but they shouldn’t be too bent out of shape about it. And we’re gonna get fucking roasted on campus for the next 6 months. But I’m not sorry it happened.”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
He looked relieved. “I really thought you’d be at least a little ups-”
“I know, El. You’ve asked me a half dozen times if I’m alright about it. I’m alright about it.” I reached out and pinched an ear, causing it to flick back. “If I didn’t want to go out with you, I wouldn’t be. Just because I didn’t want everyone to know from the start doesn’t mean I’m ashamed of you or what we have. So stop stressing about it, please.”
He studied me for a second, and then leaned in and kissed me again. Slow, sensual, passionate but not in the same way he kissed me out on the field. His soft muzzle pressed against mine as his hands slid up my bare chest. He made the tiniest sound before breaking it, lips glistening. His forehead rested against mine.
“You won,” he whispered.
“We won.”
“No,” he said, smiling again. “You won. Let me obnoxious about it here, at least.”
“I always let you be obnoxious. It’s not like I can stop you.”
He groaned and attacked my lips again. I quickly capitalized, one hand cupping the back of his neck while the other slid lower, down the curve of his back, greedly enjoying the satin texture of his fluff until I was gripping his fat, plush ass through his skort. God, he was perfect. Lean muscle everywhere but where it mattered. I squeezed hard and he moaned into my mouth, pushing back against my hand like he couldn’t get enough.
Elliot broke the kiss with a wet pop, breathing hard this tim, ear trembling. Without another word he slid down between my legs, hands pulling at my waistband until my shorts and boxers came down in one eager tug, my cock springing free already half hard from the frenching session. He looked up with a helpless little smile and wrapped his warm mouth around me. Straight into sloppy, messy heaven. Wet sounds filled the living room as he bobbed up and down, deep, tongue swirling and drooling all over my shaft as one paw stroked what he couldn’t fit in his throat, the other massaging my balls. His ears flopped with every eager bob, eyes watering but never breaking eye contact for long.
I reached down, caressing his soft, velvety ears. Eventually my fingers tangled in the overgrowth between them. I gave them a light tug and he paused, playfully moaning at me. The vibration shot a bolt of pleasure up my spine. He didn’t stop for long, pushing himself faster, hard, gluk gluk gluk until suddenly he shoved his face flush against my crotch, throat bulging as he took every inch. That was a first. The wet heat of his spasming throat combined with the soft, wet gagging sounds pushed me over the edge almost instantly.
I gripped his head with both hands as I came, thick ropes of cum spurting straight down his throat. He swallowed greedily, incessantly, milking every last drop with rhythmic squeezes of his throat before finally pulling off, dick left glistening with thick spit and cum. He barely gave himself time to breathe, half dazed and quite pleased with himself, before he stripped off his top in one swift motion, exposing his lean chest. He didn’t stop there, bending down to pull his skort and underwear half down his thighs, revealing his small pink member, already fully slid from its sheath and leaking down a thigh. I didn’t wait, grabbing him under the arms and dragging him onto my lap with a grunt. I kissed, hard, tasting myself on his tongue as my hands surged down to his ass. I spread his soft cheeks wide with both hands, kneading the fat flesh while he whimpered into my mouth.
Elliot reached back, grabbing my slick cock and lining me up with his soft opening as I slowly guided him down. The head pushed inside, then inch after inch stretched him until I was buried to the hilt. It felt fucking incredible, hot, silky, tighter than belief. In the back of my mind, I was grateful that I’d just cum-even after a few months of going out together, being inside him made me cum embarrassingly fast.
His hips worked in a smooth, fast rhythm, lifting up and dropping down with a wet slap. His toned little body moved beautifully, muscles flexing under soft fur as he fucked himself on my cock, the muted sound of fur striking flesh filling the apartment. I reached between us and wrapped my hand around his small, throbbing cock, stroking him in time with his movements. His breath hitched, eyes fluttering as he rode me harder, pre dribbling down my abs. The couch started shifting beneath us with each desperate drop of his hips. His ears flopped wildly, little moans and gasps spilling from his mouth nonstop.
Elliot came first, clenching hard around me, whole body shuddering as he painted my chest and abs with pearly white streaks. The sudden pulsing tightness was too much, and I grinded my hips up into him, unloading again with renewed strength, pulses of seed filling his guts.
We stayed locked together for a few moments afterward, panting, sweaty. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him again, on his lips, on his cheeks, anything my lips could easily get to. He buried his face against my neck and made happy little noises, grinding his hips against me as I softened. His cock was still rock hard in the mess between us. He’d be good for a couple dozen more rounds, I knew, but…
Elliot pressed his mouth against my ear, voice soft and shaky.
“I love you,” he whispered.
A warm rush went through my chest, and I held tighter. “Love you too, El.”
We stayed like that for just a little bit longer.
Then the front door swung up.
“Yoooooo, Anon! I heard you’re going out with Elliot?!? How come-oh for FUCKS sake man, not on the COUCH!”