Pit Fighters 4: Family Ties 5

This one is getting pretty dang NSFW. It also ends in a very awkward place but it was pushing 3000 words, so, more next time. Comments appreciated!

--

The sky turned vivid blue and red for the evening. Shouts erupted from the back courtyard for the next while as Kinny continually handed Blitz’s ass to him. Paris had a decent view from the kitchen window while he helped his mom as the middle part of the dish washing station, at least whenever Kinny bothered to keep Blitz in frame. Occasionally the blue rabbit went tumbling far, far away, slipping behind someone’s hanging laundry.

Tyree flipped on the back stoop light and returned to drying off the dishes. “So, what were you going to tell me?” she asked Paris.

Paris paused, arms elbow-deep in the tepid sink water. “Um… er…” he started, still not certain how to just tell her the bad news.

Logan, at the head of the line, scraping off uneaten scraps into the trash, whispered to Paris, “You want me to explain it?”

Paris didn’t, but he wasn’t sure how to say so without seeming all the more suspicious for obviously keeping something a secret.

“What’s wrong?” Tyree asked, detecting secrets like moms did.

“You see, Ms. Tyree,” Logan said with ample patience, “The contract we sign with Pit Fighters—”

“Logan!” Paris huffed. He didn’t bother to dry off his soapy hands as he reached up and dragged Logan out of the kitchen by his good ear.

“Ow, ow!” Logan said as he was pulled more-or-less into the pantry on the other side of the dining room. There weren’t very many other good options to place a pantry, and there wasn’t exactly room to shut the sliding door behind someone so large as Logan, so Paris just hoped the distance from his mother was enough to keep the conversation quiet.

“What!” Logan insisted. “I thought that’s why we came here, to tell your mom!”

“That’s what you said I should do!” Paris huffed.

“Then you asked if I wanted to come along, so I figured you needed help explaining it!” Logan looked pitiful being crammed down into a small doorway, hovering over Paris who stood defiant.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean I want you to talk about it!” Paris gesticulated wildly as though he could put all the pieces together for Logan, then just settled on grinding his palms into his face repeatedly. “I still haven’t decided how I’m gonna breach this to mom! You’ve met her, she’s just… she just adores me to death. And when I look at other moms, I’m reminded just how absurdly lucky I am to have her, and I’m about to drop a huge, smothering blanket over that!”

Paris didn’t realize how badly that hit him in the heart. He turned away into the pantry, head slumped against a shelf of dried beans, so Logan couldn’t see him tearing up.

Logan placed a heavy, gentle hand on Paris’s shoulder. “Paris… if she loves you she’ll understand. And she’ll appreciate it more the sooner you tell her. You can’t keep it secret forever.”

“I know,” Paris sniffled. “I know, but I can’t…”

Crash. Blitz suddenly tumbled into the dining room through the open window, skidding against the wood floor as he collided with Logan’s legs. Logan snorted, and marched over to the open window. “Kinny! We agreed, no throws!”

“He started it,” Kinny called back.

“Am I gonna have to come out there and ref again?”

“No!” Blitz finally righted himself without stepping on his own ears and clambered to his feet, not even bothering to notice Paris hiding in the pantry. “This is personal now!” He rushed outside again, and Logan had to gently close the screen door behind him.

“Boys!” Tyree called through the kitchen window. “You’d better keep your roughhousing to the courtyard!

“Yes, mom,” Blitz said.

“Yes, Ms. Tyree,” Kinny concurred.

Satisfied that there would be no more interruptions, Logan approached Paris again to say some more, but Paris just placed a hand over the deer’s open muzzle.

“Logan, I know,” Paris sniffled. “I’ll handle this. Just… when I’m ready, okay?” He wiped his eyes with the back of his floppy ear as he looked over to his mother in the kitchen, drying dishes and shaking her head, surely thinking boys will be boys. “I can’t… I can’t afford to lose her over this, you know?”

—

Paris felt strange to be in his own bed again. He hadn’t bothered to close the window, even though the skies cleared and the bright, waxing moon lit up the cramped space enough to read by. He just didn’t feel tired enough, which was weird because he’d had a match earlier that day. Was it the food? He’d eaten enough he should have just passed out hours ago. It was richer than he was used to eating now, but he’d still treated himself from time to time.

He should have felt comfortable where he was. He should have been sleeping like a baby, secure, safe, at home. But as much as he wanted to just go back to how things used to be, it was different. His body felt strange to him—tighter, lumpier, so even though this was the same bed he’d slept in for over a decade, it no longer fit him.

He wanted to go for a run, maybe around the courtyard for a few dozen laps. Realizing that he wanted to exercise made him feel additionally alien to himself. The Paris who was constantly surrounded by this home never wanted to just go running! He should have been sneaking softcore magazines and getting rid of his pent-up sexual frustration like the young rabbit he was.

But his life suddenly felt so very complicated, with so many worries still unresolved on his brain… and on top of it, he didn’t like being reminded of how much he was leaving behind. Even if this new version of himself was objectively better, here it seemed so… gray.

“Goddammit,” he muttered to himself and he sat up. “Why did I have to go and grow up?”

As he opened the bedroom door, though, he heard a familiar sort of creaking. It wasn’t unusual, as the paper-thin walls meant that from the hallway one could tell if anyone on the same floor was having sex. The creaking seemed to emanate from Blitz’s room, not terribly uncommon. But he suddenly had a hard time picturing Blitz banging Samsa after losing to Kinny repeatedly in the backyard. How could he boast about that? Assuming that Blitz had to boast and brag in order to get off, which seemed accurate to the picture in Paris’s head of his oldest brother.

The sex seemed a bit louder than usual, however. And Paris was about to ignore it, except looking up the stairs to the third floor… Samsa was marching back and forth in the hallway, glued to her phone.

Paris blinked, and looked back toward Blitz’s bedroom door.

“Ah!” Blitz’s distinct voice came through the walls, “Ah, oh god, Kinny!”

“Kinny?!” Paris blurted out.

At the top of the stairs, Samsa’s ears perked, and she shoved the phone into her purse for once since Paris had known her. The pink dog-thing stormed down the rickety staircase, and before Paris could even consider if he ought to do anything, slammed open Blitz’s bedroom door.

From the corner, Paris didn’t have a view inside the bedroom, but Samsa was screaming loud enough that Paris could have worked it out from echolocation.

“Blitz!” She screamed.

“Samsa!” Blitz stammered. “I-I-I-I can explain, you see—”

“Yeah, explain to me that you’re fucking a dude!”

“It’s hormones! It happens to guys sometimes!”

“It wouldn’t happen if you weren’t gay! Christ, Blitz, is this why we’ve never slept together?”

“I didn’t want a pregnancy unless we were gonna get married!”

“So, what, that means you can just fuck all the dudes you like in the meantime? We’re over!”

“Samsa, wait!”

But Samsa has already marched out the door, shoving Paris further into the corner of the hallway as she took the stairs down, not even caring that it was dark outside as she slammed through the front door. Blitz followed not long after, not even acknowledging Paris standing in the hallway as his stairs rattled under his feet and he burst through the front door on the back swing. But it was barely a moment before Blitz stormed back inside, grumbling on the way back up the stairs. Staring daggers into Paris, he jabbed a finger into his brother’s chest.

“Not one word.”

Paris mimed zipping his lips shut. Blitz stormed back into his room, and moments later, his hands forcefully shoved Kinny out into the hallway, followed by chucking Kinny’s handbag at the back of his head with a thunk. The door nearly slammed on his tail. Kinny didn’t seem to have more than a “hmm, that happened,” expression over his placid eyelids as he retrieved his bag from the hallway floor.

“Kinny!” Paris said, grabbing the opossum by the arm and dragging him down the stairs. Kinny let him, as he allowed Blitz to smack him in the back of the head, but it seemed that Kinny was a bit delirious from the vigorous activity. Paris took him to the empty floor of the house, so he could make sure his next words were not overheard, as he was at very real risk of shouting them at the top of his lungs.

“Kinny!” He said in the opossum’s face, trying to keep his scream to a hushed whisper. “What was that about?”

“What?” Kinny seemed a bit more withdrawn than usual, not even looking Paris in the eyes as he folded his arms defensively.

“You’re fucking my brother?”

“I said he was gay,” Kinny replied quietly. “It’s not my fault people don’t listen when I’m right.”

“That’s not—” Paris swabbed his palms over his face. It’d always been an open suspicion, Paris just hadn’t had such rapid confirmation of the fact. In any case, that wasn’t the point. “I didn’t bring you here so you could bang my family!”

“Well what do you want me to do, Paris?” Kinny asked, eyes snapping up to meet his. “Do you even pay attention to the fact the people around you have lives of their own? You know why I started talking to you, right? You were the only one pathetic enough to actually listen to me, even if it was reluctantly. You keep harping on how everyone else at the FEC is having sex all the time, do you even keep track? Do you know how many sex partners I’ve had there?”

Paris blinked. “Uh… no. No, I haven’t. I just assumed—”

“Just two, not counting sexual favors I paid. Nobody else likes me. But I have needs, Paris. Blitz has needs, and he’s too dumb to realize the consequences while horny. You, meanwhile, are still pretending you’re better than that. I thought you’d loosen up after you met Sultan, but you’re pretending all the more like you’re making some noble sacrifice to leave your friends down and dry.”

“So, what, you’re fucking my brother cause I haven’t said you could fuck me?”

Kinny grabbed Paris by the shoulders and shoved him into the wall. It was almost a gentle gesture, given how strong Paris knew the opossum really was.

“I’m trying to tell you that I like you, you imbecile,” Kinny said. For the first time that Paris could recall, he could have sword that the moonlight from the window was catching Kinny’s eyes all the more, as they wetted with tears. “I’ve been trying to tell you that it’s not just about having sex with whoever’s ass is available. I’m not saying I want you to give up on your morals. You’re clearly still trying to figure out what they are. And you know, sometimes I’m standing over here feeling extremely unsure how to say to you that I just want to hug you and kiss you and it feels so weird coming out of my mouth right now rather than you know, just doing it.” He released Paris and slumped backwards. “We’re probably not even compatible long-term. We’re very different people. But… goddammit, I know you well enough to know that you need someone, even if it’s temporary. Or would you rather keep all your sexual encounters to every time Porte manages to seduce you?”

Paris winced. He understood that part well enough—he just wasn’t used to thinking with his horny-brain anytime he wasn’t horny. But it was a real possibility that was Paris’s future if he didn’t do something about it. The problem was… he didn’t know what a future was going to look like if he took off in yet another new direction—especially since the new direction he was already taking was so alienating.

“I don’t…” Paris’s head slouched. “I don’t like the idea of temporary. Right now, I want security again.”

Kinny reached out and took Paris’s hand gently in his. His naked fingers were smooth and warm, and Kinny’s expression, though still placid, was no longer unreadable. Had… had Kinny been missing that security, too? Was that why Kinny joined the Pit Fighters in the first place?

“Paris… outside of your family, we’re the best security we got for each other. Don’t throw away a couple months just because it’s not enough years.”

Paris blushed. He really didn’t know. It wasn’t a proposal or anything, but maybe it didn’t need to be. Paris couldn’t come home every day, but he could see Kinny every day, and Kinny very much fit in this place.

He seemed, even in the pale moonlight, like a bit of color that Paris thought he’d misplaced.

“Can… can you say it again?” Paris asked. “Without the insult, this time.”

“I like you, Paris,” Kinny said.

Paris didn’t know what else to do, so he pulled Kinny in close and embraced him. Kinny fall into Paris’s body so deeply, so needfully, that Paris thought for a moment that Kinny was going to burst into tears. And suddenly, Paris needed him. He needed that touch, of bare fur against his own, of a strong and lithe body, and a sweet and capable young opossum that was doing his best to see Paris taken care of.

Soon, the embrace turned into a kiss. Paris hasn’t done much kissing in his life, not as equals, but felt so natural with Kinny on the other end. Wrapping his arms around the young opossum tighter, one of his hands slipped downward and gripped his extremely firm buttocks tight, and he could scarcely make himself let go. It was just as well, as Kinny’s paws found Paris’s ass as well.

Paris thought it was a prelude to going further, but that was the most that he or Kinny needed right then. Long, slow, lingering kisses, their mutual erections pressed awkwardly against one another, and even when they flopped onto the roughshod couch together, Paris felt as though he could hang in that presexual limbo forever. It wasn’t even lust at that point. He just had such nebulous feelings he needed to express, and touching, kissing, grinding, and gasping hot breath all over the blue opossum was the language he expressed it in. He leaked from an overflowing watershed of emotions he’d left dammed up so tight he’d forgotten how they felt to be released.

He was there, pressed up naked and vulnerable to someone who was not so long ago a stranger. He never wanted to leave again. He craved every single second of it, for the hour that it carried on.

“Psst,” came a voice from the stairs.