Nico would wake early in the morning, this time before Tros, who was still snoring next to him. What had awoken the fox was the sound of a rather torrential rain pattering the plastic of their tent, just as Tros had anticipated. There was light coming through the tent, though, implying it was daylight out, even if overcast, and as Nico laid there amidst the heavy rain and Tros' loud sleeping, he wondered what they could possibly do today until the rain stopped. 

The younger fox would unzip his bag slightly to let the crisp morning air brush his nearly naked body, finding that the rain had chilled it substantially, and after a moment of letting his sleeping bag air out, he'd zip back up and let himself snuggle into the wooly confines. The tent reeked of both the foxes, particularly Nico, and the smell of their musks combined had the young boy's head foggy with a sleepily rising desire. The young fox couldn't help but wonder, though, if it would be best to sneak outside and wash up in the rain, but he dreaded the thought of how cold that would be. Besides, Tros would surely reprimand him for doing so, insisting that he'd catch pneumonia that way.

Instead, he would lay there in the noise of the morning weather, tucked in his bag, thinking about how the week had gone, about how close he and his grandfather seemed to physically orbit, touching at times but never breaking past that, never sinking into the connection he so confusedly desired. Even now, the old fox was barely two feet away from him, in only his underwear and a sleeping bag. How, Nico thought, could they be so close and yet his desires seemed so impossibly far away? Why did he even desire it to begin with?

The young fox had nothing but time to contemplate what had drawn him so heavily to Tros in the isolation of the past few days, and unfortunately all he could deduce in seclusion of their shared tent was how badly he wanted to masturbate, which is exactly what he ended up trying to stealthily do, tucked in his bag with his hand in his underwear, squirming about in the confines of an occasionally crinkling cocoon while his grandfather slept so close to him. He was terribly stiff, and the boy was certain the quiet fapping sound of his hand hitting tent and crotch was louder than the rain as he tried to stealthily and quickly handle his needs, only to find his other hand having to cover his mouth to stifle what stupid sounds he felt compelled to make, bringing himself to the precipice of release only to have Tros snort suddenly and blink his eyes, waking and looking over to see Nico's eyes wide open, totally unaware his grandson's hand was between his own legs as he sleepily told Nico "g'mornin' polecat, y' coulda woke me if y' were up" with a groggy, somewhat congested voice.

Nico tried to move carefully, to breathe carefully, to not make it obvious what he'd been doing, but as soon as he saw Tros start to sniff the air upon waking more, he felt certain was over. Tros didn't say anything about it, though, but he did sniff a bit more as his nose crumpled up a bit, clearly reacting to some sort of scent out of the ordinary. The old fox would lift his arm and sniff under it as he sat up, a quiet "s'not me..." as he looked around the tent, realizing only in his waking clarity that it must've been Nico, the old fox quickly clearing his throat, uncomfortable with how he'd drawn attention to it.

"I ain't wanna wake you, y' seemed to be sleeping so well" Nico replied. he'd carefully slid his hands up in his bag but he dared not free them from the cloth confines, as they smelled stronger of his heat than anything else.

"I was, but now that i'm awake iuno how I was sleepin'. S'pissin' rain out there, huh?" Tros would ask. His palms would rub his aged face and eyes a bit before he'd find his glasses and blink a few more times. Tros was clearly still half-asleep, so much so he wouldn't even notice the tent in his boxer briefs as he scooted out of his sleeping bag and crawled on his hands and knees over to the tent to unzip the door and let air cycle through the space, the sound of rain louder now as they got a view for just how heavily it was coming down. Tros got a view of the rain, at least. Nico was instead staring right at the stiff tugging of the fabric in his grandpa's underwear, rigid, even granting Nico an unfairly untouchable pulse that made the spire in the fabric twitch for a moment. 

The rain tarp thankfully kept the inside of their tent dry as Tros unzipped it the rest of the way, adjusting to sit cross-legged at the edge of their space to look out into the rain, at the pattering on the surface of the pond as he remarked a rather dissatisfied "damn, the sky looks like this is gonna be the whole day."

Nico had slowly sat up at this point as well, Tros squinting as he remarked "ain't think t' bring anything to cover us up t' make breakfast, guess it's just packed snacks today. I'll brew some coffee in the trunk though, y' can stay here."

Tros would then scurry to the raider and unlock it, crawling up in the trunk where he'd thankfully packed up much from the night before, tossing much of it in the back seat to make room for him to sit with the portable burner where he prepared coffee, leaving Nico alone in the tent with an aching stiffness jutting between his legs, the boy just about to start groping on himself as Tros returned with two cups of coffee and a plastic bag of snacks from the dollar store, the poor young boy having to remain pent up a bit longer.

"Guess it's stories and sittin' around for a lotta today, bud," Tros said as he handed Nico a coffee and let the boy rummage for first dibs on the goods he'd packed, Nico having crawled out of his bag, sitting cross-legged close to Tros. The fourth day of their camping trip was, indeed, going to be spent mostly inside. The rain bore down oppressively on their tent in the early morning, letting up in waves but always returning to that downpour, leading Tros to spend much of the early morning telling Nico stories and playing cards with him. The young fox would occasionally offer back stories of his own, which Tros happily listened to, but even Nico realized they weren't nearly as cool as his grandpa's tales of war, friendship, romance, and his days of being young.

Morning became afternoon before the pair knew it, somewhere between lunch and dinner, the rain consistent but not as torrential as it had been earlier on, almost threatening to let up at some point that night. Neither of them seemed to mind too much, the conversations having been lively and entertaining, but Nico wouldn't have minded one more sunny day before they had to go back home. At the moment, though, the two were having their second cup of coffee alongside canned stews, neither of them having heated their food.

"Y' always have liked your food more right out the can, y' know that?" Tros asked.

"It tastes better that way." Nico replied.

"Does it?" his grandfather asked.

"Yeah. Y' heat it up and it gets all squishy and the flavors get all mixed up. I'd eat all my food room temperature if I could" the boy replied. Nico had always been odd about food, particular about temperatures and certain flavors. If it was canned, he preferred it straight out of the can, and he hated food that was overly hot. It was just one of the boy's many eccentricities.

"Well, sometimes I eat mine right out the can when i'm out campin', and y'know what? Ain't that bad. Y' may be onto something." Tros said.

As Nico was upending the can to drink some of his stew, Tros had taken a big spoonful and was making himself comfortable, talking while eating it as he asked "y' wanna know why I call y' polecat?"

"I figured it was 'cause I stunk", Nico replied.

"Well, yeah, but also, s'the name I was given in the war. Damn near everyone had a nickname. Plus, our uniforms ain't have our names on them, so when you were in the bush you ain't know the names of the other folks in your squad, only their nickname. Lot of us'd get our nicknames in boot camp and carry it with us through the war. You mighta gone the whole time and never know what your buddy's real name was. We only told our names t' folks we were real close with, normally, your closest friends in your squad."

Tros paused, chasing his stew with his coffee as he solemnly admitted "s'kinda hard finding your buddies' names on memorial walls when y' only ever knew 'em as somethin like 'Farmhand'."

Nico had all but drank his dinner at this point, barely even having used a spoon as he leaned forward to listen to Tros.

"Anyway, our drill sergeant was a big brick shithouse of a man, a panther, stood like 6' 3". Name was Sergeant Bankole. Hated foxes. Fuckin' haaated foxes. Used t' have this thing he'd do where he'd make us shine our boots twice over and he'd say somethin' like 'clean 'em twice 'cause you MUST have stepped in shit, no man smells that bad'. He gave us a harder time than he gave skunks, man, he was such a dick."

Tros grinned as he told the story now, but it was evident by the tone in his voice that he must've hated the guy at the time, shaking his head as he told the story like it surfaced at least the slightest bit of anger, even now.

"So I was private 'Polecat'. I think he went a little gentle on me 'cause I was well behaved, at least in boot camp. Another fox in my training just got straight up 'Stinky'. One of 'em, Sarge really hated, he'd been mouthy the first week'a camp and got the nickname 'Shitdog'. It's funny, though, no matter how harsh the nicknames were, you kept 'em. A lotta guys held onto 'em even after the war. Small world, I ran into Shitdog at the beach seven or eight years ago and he introduced himself as that. Never did tell me his real name."

"But your buddy Arthur, you and him both knew eachother's real names. Y' said he called you 'Sionnach'. Were y'all close?" Nico asked.

Tros gave a short exhale of a laugh as he looked down at his lap, the wrinkles on the corner of his face clearly curled up in some sort of guarded smile as he admitted "shouldn't'a told you that story. Y' know too much now!"

Nico, more curious now than before, would press a bit, lying down and making himself comfortable on his side, repeating the question "were y'all close?"

Tros gave a lengthy pause, chewing his tongue in a way that pursed his mouth up in a caught smile, finally admitting "yeaaa, yea we were close."

The old fox would toss back the last of his coffee and lay on his side next to Nico, propped up on his elbow as he talked.

"Clyde and I ain't go to boot camp together but we ended up in a squad together and, like I said, we all knew he was gay but most'a us didn't care. But yaknow, y' couldn't SAY you were gay or get caught doin' anything gay or you'd get discharged. So it was like an open secret with him. But we were out in the jungle one night--weeks after jerkin' me off, mind you--and he looks at me and says 'Sionnach, i'm a homosexual. Do you know why i'm tellin' you?'"

Tros turned his hand over to show his open palm in a conversation gesture to Nico as he carried on. "So I say 'everyone knows you're gay, Arthur. Why're y' actin' like it's a big deal now, of all times?'. He turns t' me and says 'cause I think I love you, Sionnach.'"

Nico's eyed widened a bit, and Tros gave an agreeing "yeah that's how I reacted too" to the boy as he carried on with the story.

"I told him, a'course, that I appreciated the sentiment and I loved him like a brother, which I did. He'd been like my best friend since we'd been assigned together. He had such a good sense'a humor and he was always so down-to-earth. We'd both been in combat but we both kept our heads on straight. He was like my only source'a comfort some nights. We'd told each other our real names pretty early on, on a night after i'd saved his ass from a small ambush we'd been in. I remember how he looked, all shaken up, tears in his eyes back at base. He looked at me outta nowhere and says 'Clyde Arthur. Pennylsvania. Please don't forget it.'"

"And you two stayed friends like that through the whole war?" Nico asked. 

"Well, through our tour. We ain't stay for the whole war, a'course. We both did our time and went our separate ways. Anyway, he says he loves me, right? And I told him I loved him like a brother but I wasn't into him like that, and it was clear he took it hard but nothin' changed between us. He talked to me a little bit more that night about how he'd come t' realize it, said he'd known since he was 16. He was 22 at the time. I was 23."

Tros would adjust his position, his arm having gotten tired from supporting himself, the old fox now lying on his back with his hands clasped together on his stomach as he stared at the ceiling of the tent, the rain pounding on the outside as he asked Nico "if I tell y' a secret, will you promise t' never tell your daddy or anyone else, ever? Even after i'm dead?"

Nico had also shifted, finding his pillow and folding it under his head to keep him propped up slightly, his arms drawn up close together, his voice low as he replied "I swear, it'll be our secret."

Tros smiled a little.

"It was a few weeks after that night. Our squad was on stand down, we were at a base gettin' medical and showers and lukewarm shit for food. Wasn't pleasant by any means, lotsa times them things sucked so much you'd rather be out in the boonies. At least the field's not a flashing target for the enemy. Anyway, we were at our base windin' down for our first night's sleep in a bed in weeks. Two folks to a pup tent, which is like--it's like the classic tent y' think of when you think of a tent. Nothin' like this. Just a triangle'a cloth over some sticks holdin' it up. Clyde and I were layin' there whisperin' to each other about what we were gonna do on R&R. He said he wanted t' spend the whole week drunk. I said I just wanted pussy. He laughed a little. Then he asked me if I wanted t' try it with him t' hold me over til I got some crotch."

Tros took a moment to inhale, then exhale, a quiet excitement to his voice as he recalled the memories, meanwhile Nico had rose from his resting position as Tros paused his story to look at him, insisting "s'worth notin' I didn't just have sex the whole time I was there. There's a lot more t' tell you. These's just been the most relevant stories t', yaknow...you and how you're feelin'. Plus I don't wanna kill the fun'a the trip tellin' you all the gritty stories. Anyway, he asks me if I want inside him. It's damn near pitch black out, anyway, right? No harm in gettin' a little action, right? We both needed it."

Nico would have a breathy disbelief in his voice as he asked "didja?"

"I did," Tros replied, "it was weird. First time i'd ever done anything like that with a guy. We're on our sides, all both of us did was pull our pants down a little. Y' gotta stay dressed in the field, even in fire bases, in case y' get ambushed. So I scoot in. Start rubbin' up on him. He's so sweaty, I--I shouldn't be tellin' y' this story," Tros snickered to himself, knowing it only got worse from there.

"N-no, c'mon! Nico insisted. Tros couldn't resist reminiscing a bit more, though, so he'd agree with a fussy "alright, alright".

"He's so sweaty, it's real easy t' root up under his tail. I just kinda push around until I find this real soft spot, and I know right away what it is. So I spit on my hand and rub myself a little and he whispers 'just do it', so I push in. Feels fuckin' great. Next thing I know, we're pressed back-to-chest, hip to hip, and i'm rootin' around in a man. Couldn't really fuck 'im like I woulda preferred but there was somethin' even better about how that felt, havin' to be real careful and quiet. Guys watchin' guard outside don't know nothin', boys in the tent next t' us don't know nothing. No one but me, Clyde and the good Lord above know what he and I were doin' in that moment. It was great. The next day, though,"

Nico would interrupt Tros with a "wait!", which would prompt a temperamental "what?!" in response from Tros, angry he'd gotten interrupted as the younger fox asked him "did you, uhh..."

"What? Did I what?"

"Didja finish in him?" Nico would ask, almost guarding his face like he was embarrassed to ask such a thing.

"What? Did I cum in him? 'Course I did. He came too, with me still in him. Then we pulled our pants up and went t' sleep. The next day, I wake up and he's spry as a spring chicken. I feel damn good myself, but he looks awful chipper for a guy who took it up the ass the night before. Ain't no one ever suspect a thing. We did that just about every time we had a bed together and no one t' catch us, too. Hell, there was one time we were in the city and I had this gal all on me wantin' me to pay her t' treat me right and I ended up skippin' out on her and findin' a nice place to dig around in Clyde again instead. Pussy's great but it felt damn good gettin' laid and not havin' to wear a rubber."

It was hard to believe how honest Tros was being with Nico, especially having never known his grandfather to have any interest in men at all. It certainly did make Nico feel a lot less awkward about his own tastes, but it also raised so many questions about how much Tros had done with men after the war, and how much interest he had in them nowadays.

"So," Nico would lead into that, "did you ever do stuff like that after the war? Do y' still do it now?"

"Only once or twice. And I got ladies waaay more often overseas than I got Clyde," the older fox laughed, "but I ain't gonna act like it won't fun every now and then. S'way different than a girl, that's for sure. I ain't been with a guy in quite some time, actually. S'been...hell more than five years, less than ten. Was a few years after Maidean passed, so I reckon 'bout seven eight years?"

With Nico being in puberty, specifically in his heat, it didn't occur to Tros at all how strange it was how explicit his conversation had gotten. If anything, he thought it would make Nico feel less weird about his desires for men, but Tros would notice as Nico was quite damp on the forehead, quiet and attentive that perhaps his stories had done a little more for the boy than intended, and as he laid there on his back looking at Nico out of the corner of his eye, he'd contemplate whether the stories about he and Clyde should maybe stop for now. 

"That all said," Tros would begin to redirect the conversation, "that coffee's workin' it's way through me and the rain's let up, so I'm gonna take a walk. See if any'a the trees need company for a few minutes." the old fox said as he sat up, opening the tent to find that it had gotten quite chilly in the outside world, the lack of collected body warmth evident as Tros gave a low "brrr" before reaching back for his clothes, dressing himself in shirt and pants as he headed out into the mist of the lulled rain to take care of business.

Nico, alone in the chill of the air, would take that moment to reflect on the stories he'd been told that day, about the way his grandfather had so honestly confessed to a life no one had ever known he lived. None of Tros' children knew, only Nico, and the boy felt quite special at the thought of that, a secret he absolutely had to keep. He also, in that moment, felt unbearably horny, and with Tros gone for what was probably going to be a few minutes, the fox would do what any logical young teen would do in the minutes he had alone away from family: try to masturbate before they got back.

The rain would pick back up very shortly after Tros had left, though, back to a heavy downpour that had the fox's mind alternating between thoughts of his grandfather in an erotic way and thoughts of him in a worried way, wondering if he was alright out in that heavy rain. Sure, he was used to this sort of stuff, but he hadn't brought any rain clothes with him, and as the boy desperately tried to satiate his urges he found he could only listen to the rain and wonder if Tros was getting soaked to the bone. He wouldn't have to worry long, though, as his privacy and worries were squashed simultaneously by a string of profanities uttered by Tros, soaking wet, crawling under the rain tarp in only his t-shirt, barking "fuckin' rain started 'soon as I got my britches off!"

Nico would shoot up in surprise as Tros crawled into the tent, completely naked from the waist down, his goods on full display as the old fox fussed "gonna have t' wait 'til the rain lets up t' go get a change, I left the rest in the damn Raider. Fuckin'...even my skivvies're soaked." 

Tros explained to a smirking Nico how he'd just gotten comfortable when the rain started, telling him "I took my damn bottoms off and i'm squattin' there against the tree, it starts POURIN' rain, and i'm just stuck there, lookin' at 'em just fuckin' FILLING up with rain water. Can't do a damn thing about it 'cause i'm handlin' my business. Fuckin' leaves are cold on my ass while i'm cleanin' up, cold and fuckin' wet. Ain't wanna bother puttin' my britches back on so I just walk my naked ass back over here in the rain."

The old fox had no sense of shame about his body on display as he took off his shirt, attempting to wring it out buy having little success, the cloth quickly becoming chilly and uncomfortable. Tros decided to not even bother, and instead just balled up his clothes and tucked them in the corner before zipping up the tent and crawling into his bag to warm up, much to Nico's silent disappointment. Tros would look over to the boy to see him grinning like a 'possum eating sweet potatoes, and Tros would find himself unable to keep from grinning back as he half-laughed and asked "what? somethin' funny?"

Nico would spit just a bit as he tried to restrain himself from fully laughing at Tros as he replied "yeah".

"Yeah, I got'yer funny right here," Tros would say as he reached behind him and tossed a chilly, soaked shirt at his shirtless son's face, Nico yelping at how cold and clammy it was as he quickly pulled it from his face, tossing it off to the side. Tros made himself comfortable in his bag and zipped it up so only his head was out for the time being, needing to regain that heat in the tent as he turned to Nico and said "sorry y' prolly saw more than y' wanted t' see with that one. I know when I turned around t' wring my shirt out y' prolly saw more of me than you've ever seen of a man before."

"S'okay," Nico replied, his voice lowering as those pubescent hormones compelled him to add "you're real handsome". Tros would sputter out an incredulous "handsome!" in reply as he rolled his eyes.

"Y' done lost it" Tros would add, clearly an attempt to dismiss his grandson more or less hitting on him after having seen him naked. He'd come to terms with it in the past day or so, the fact that Nico's pubescent itch seemed less directed at men in general and moreso for Tros specifically, and though the old fox still couldn't fathom how that had come to be, he found himself a little weirded out but ultimately found it rather funny.

"Is that creepy'a me to say?" Nico would ask, though, almost as if he could read Tros' mind. The old fox would roll onto his back and stare up at the ceiling of the tent for a moment, watching how the rain made momentary tints in the otherwise clouded light across the fabric. In a way, Tros found it comforting that Nico had enough insight to be willing to ask that question. 

"It's kinda weird, but it's okay. People are allowed t' be a little weird." Tros would say. "'Course it's a little weird for anyone t' have the hots for their own family, but it ain't like you're an otherwise normal boy. I known plenty'a guys in my years that were into waaay weirder stuff." Tros would say.

"Really?" the boy asked, "like what?"

"THAT," Tros rolled onto his side to face Nico, "THAT I ain't gonna tell y' for a few more years. My point is, it's okay."

Nico gave a long sigh as he listened to Tros, admitting "I feel really weird about it."

"I can tell," Tros said, "y' get embarrassed easily. I notice it. Which, I guess is kinda good, y' shouldn't be brazen about or nothin', but it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I just wish," Nico said, contemplative, "that other guys were as cool as you. Y' done all this cool stuff in your life and you're so strong and smart and capable, and you're funny and y' make me feel strong when I'm around y'. Boys my age aren't anything like you."

"Well," Tros felt his face was warm, all that admiration clearly getting to the old fox, "I won't like this as a boy neither. Took me a lotta growin' up and a lotta learning. There'll be boys that grow up t' be just like me."

"Ugh!" Nico groaned, his hands leaving his tent to gesture frustratedly into the air, "but I'LL be older then too! What am I s'posed t' do til then?"

"Work on yourself!" Tros replied. "Be who you want for yourself 'til someone can come along and be that person for ya. Be the person you'd love t' have in your life, 'cause then you'll love yourself as much as y' love me."

As the words left Tros' mouth, he found he'd surprised even himself with how intelligent that sounded, oddly poetic when he'd really just been talking out his ass in an attempt to comfort his grandson. 

"That's good advice," Nico replied as his hands flopped back on the top of his sleeping bag, "I just wanna have fun like everyone else is havin' fun. Lotta kids around me got boyfriends and girlfriends already and I don't like anyone like that, 'cept janitor Holtz...and you."

Tros had, never in his life, imagined that he would be in the situation he was in, but as he listened to Nico it was hard to pass any sort of judgment on him. Being a teenager was hard enough, being a teenager who was gay and having trouble fitting in must've been exponentially harder. Tros, as a child, had not only had both his parents, but he'd had a healthy community structure around him. Ganymede, though, from what Tros had gathered, didn't socialize the boy very well at all, and Tros was only just realizing in the past few months how that had left Nico struggling to connect to his peers. It was no surprise, then, that the two men that were nicest to him would be the ones he'd attach to the most. Tros would lay there in a silent introspection, unsure of how to respond. He didn't want to encourage Nico to pursue this Holtz fella, and he surely didn't want to encourage him to try and win over his own grandfather, but he also knew how hollow and unhelpful it was to tell the boy to just wait, or how he'll "find someone eventually". That said, he also knew sometimes the best advice was the hardest to hear.

"Well, bud," Tros began, "the thing about life's that it ain't always fun. When I was 14, Lord, if your great-granddaddy had found out I wanted t' get laid he'd a taken the belt to me. It won't 'til I was 17 that I finally had my first time, anyway. I was so scared'a gettin' caught that even when girls'd invite me out with 'em I ain't go with 'em cause daddy woulda killed me if i'd gotten one of 'em pregnant or somethin'."

"Really? 17?" Nico asked. Tros nodded.

"Yep. 17. My first kiss was at 14, and I got laid at 17, and I am SO glad the girl I lost my virginity too won't the same girl that was my first kiss, 'cause she turned out t' be a nightmare. Sometimes it's good y' end up waiting."

Nico let the quiet settle in their tent, overtaken by the sound of the rain, but as Tros laid on his side watching his grandson clearly thinking about something, he'd let the moment linger as well, not wanting to say too much. Finally, there was a long sigh from the young boy, and Nico would roll onto his side as well.

"Yeah, you're right," Nico replied, "s'just hard."

"I know it's hard, bud, but you'll be okay. I promise".

Tros hoped that he'd handled it well, looking over to Nico who was smiling back to him with the same defeated smile that he'd seen out of Clyde Arthur all those years ago, the smile of a man taking rejection in stride. Tros wished, as he saw that smile, that he had something to offer his grandson in the same way he'd had to offer his buddy all those years ago. It was easy to reassure Clyde that nothing would change between them, him being a grown man, but it was an entirely different animal with Nico, a teenage boy, his own family. Everything about this situation had to be handled differently, but as Tros laid there pondering, he'd find that he'd not only dried off in his sleeping bag, but that he was actually getting a little toasty, and the rain had lightened up a bit again. In fact, it was almost quiet, other than the sound of water falling from the trees onto their tent, and as Tros laid there listening for a moment he'd ask Nico "wanna stretch yer legs with me for a minute 'fore the rain picks back up?"

The young fox was eager and happy to get to move around again, and as Tros lead the way and exited the tent, Nico found his gaze directly at his grandpa's backside, at the crook of his tail where his ass began, the silver hair on his butt and the way the skin wrinkled around it. The rain had indeed stopped, the air was cool outside and deeply saturated, stimulating on the senses, and as Nico stepped about on the cold, wet, soft earth he'd look to Tros and ask "granddaddy?"

"Yeah?" Tros asked as he headed for the raider and popped open the trunk, digging out some dry clothes.

"Can I, uh..." the boy's fingers on the waistband of his boxer briefs, "can I go naked too?"

"'Course y' can, polecat," Tros said as he walked his dry clothes back to the tent and tossed them inside, seeming nonchalant to the question, "hell, when I go campin' alone i'm naked almost the whole time. S'what the woods are made for, feelin' free."

Tros said it so casually as he went over to their two chairs, tilting them over to let the collected rainwater drain out of the seats before looking up to the sky, noticing that there were cracks in the clouds and pointing out to Nico that it looked the rain might've actually been done. It was early evening, though, probably only an hour left of sunlight for the day, but as Tros stood there in all his glory looking up at the sky, his grandson was a few feet behind him stepping out of his underwear, tossing them in the tent. The cool air and nervousness were getting to him at first, and Nico stood with his back to Tros as he looked down at his body, naked outside for the first time since he was probably only a little boy, the way his body looked naked with his feet in the wet earth. It was such a minor thing, he thought, and yet he felt so free, so oddly liberated of the confines of his insecurities, at least in that moment. 

Eventually, the boy would get the urge to turn around, finding Tros still facing away from him, his butt on full view for the boy. Nico would walk to him but his eyes remained focus on his grandfather's backside, on the way his wrinkling skin pinched and ripped in places near the base of his ribs, at his hipbones, on his shoulders and legs. His back had a sparse white and silver hair to it that thickened on his shoulders and on his ass, denser on his legs than his arms. This alone, much to Nico's inconvenience, would get the boy's dick standing up fully erect, and as Tros turned around to see that Nico was not only nude but also stiff, he'd snort a laugh at the boy's predicament and remark "I remember bein' your age."

Nico's eyes were as wide as the moon as his posture drew inward, his hips pulled back and his hands instictively guarded his erection, but Tros was quick to tell him "ain't nothin' t' hide! Happens t' all of us." as he went about cleaning up their fireplace area, which was unfortunately soaked at this point. In the dimming light of the setting sun, though, Tros would take a seat in his damp chair and sit back, spread his legs, make himself comfortable. The cooler that contained the beers was still there, no longer keeping the cool but keeping them out of the rain, and Tros would pull one out and crack it, telling Nico to come sit with him.

The plastic chair was chilly, still wet and cold on the fox's ass, causing him to jump a bit and flinch as he tried to make himself comfortable, Tros seeming to already be at peace with how unwelcoming his chair felt to his naked body. It must've warmed quickly, Nico thought, as Tros sipped his beer and looked out onto the dark of the water's surface, the upcoming night making it near impossible for Nico to get a good view between Tros' legs, which he was unstealthily trying to do.

"Y' started jerkin' off yet?" Tros would ask rather unexpectedly, Nico looking shocked in Tros' direction, able to see he had a slick smile across his face, his eyes somewhat squinty, like he knew the question would embarrass Nico.

"Y-yeah," the boy admitted. Why lie, he thought?

"Wanna jerk one out with me 'fore bed?" Tros asked. It was a question he never thought he'd be asking his own kin, but one he'd been pondering for a few hours now. It had been obvious all weekend that Nico had been getting aroused, not only evident by his flirting with Tros but by the numerous times Tros had noticed the kid had a boner. Nico clearly needed some sort of release, but he'd had no privacy to do so for days now, and Tros had spent the last few hours wondering if he should make an excuse to leave for a while and hope Nico takes advantage of it, or if he should just ask him directly. 

"With...you?" Nico asked, not seeming to believe Tros really meant what he'd said. Nico, of course, was enthralled at the idea, but it was surely too good to be true, he knew it. Rather than answer it directly, though, Tros would tell a story.

"When yer daddy and his brothers and sister were yer age, I sent 'em all to a summer camp for a month. Gave me some peace and quiet and it gave them a lotta skills and socializing and all that. They bunked boys and girls separate, and they bunked 'em four to a cabin, by age. Well, one day we get a call at the house, and thank GOD I answered it and not their mama, 'cause it's one'a the camp counselors telling me your daddy, his brother Tennessee, and the other two boys from his cabin were caught all fuckin' beatin' their dicks together. Four 14-year old boys just sittin' in the middle'a their cabin, pants down, jackin' off together. They said they thought I should be informed. I said 'well, thanks for tellin' me. I only got one question'. Wanna know what it was?"

"What?" Nico asked, now wondering if his question was ever going to get answered.

"I asked him 'they kept their hands to themselves at least, right?'" Tros said as he burst out laughing, clearly thinking it was the funniest thing he could've possibly said. He'd laugh himself until he coughed, that raspy smoker's cough that didn't seem to slow how much he was laughing. Nico laughed as well, but not nearly as much as his grandfather.

"Point is," Tros would say as he finally calmed down, "I ain't parent'a the year and I ain't a professional so I don't know everything, but I think it's pretty common for guys to jerk it together. We did it in the war a few times too. Sometimes y' just don't even want sex as much as y' just want that connection. Like Clyde, that first time. He coulda sucked me off, I wouldn't'a stopped him, but more than anything I think he just wanted t' feel connected to someone."

Nico looked out at the water as Tros talked, his stories always having a way of weaving humor with sincerity, though it never seemed intentional. The young boy wondered how much of his desires were that, just a desperate want to feel connected, to not feel so intimately lonely. After all, nothing about his longing for his grandfather felt romantic, he had no desire to form a relationship with him of that nature, he just...was incredibly attracted to him and wanted to experience that connection as deep as it could go. He wanted to make Tros feel good, which would leave his mouth rather suddenly as he confessed exactly that: "I wanna make y' feel good."

"Y' do make me feel good, Nico," Tros would reply, "you've made me feel good all week."

"Yeah, I know, but like...I wanna make y' feel good in other ways too," the boy admitted.

"I know y' do, but y' ain't the age t' be worrying about makin' old men like me feel good. Worry 'bout what feels good t' you and what you want." Tros said, the chill in the air getting to be a bit more than comfortable for him, and as he looked to Nico, he'd ask again "so, y' wanna?"

"A'course I do. Right here?" Nico asked.

"Sure! Ain't no one but the fish around." Tros said as he reclined back a bit, a relaxing groan in his voice as he drawled out "aaand I reckon they don't mind a show..." as he would slide his hand between his legs, Nico unable to see his dick from where he was sitting but clearly able to see Tros was groping on himself now. The young boy, of course, would follow, not having to stir himself to life like his grandfather was, already stiff as he looked at Tros. The old fox's arm would jiggle at first as he was clearly waggling his dick around to get some blood flowing to it, but after a moment, his movements turned to slow pumping, and Nico knew he was hard as well. That alone could've made the boy blow his load, but he held still. He wanted to savor every second of this.

"Wanna hear a story while we do it or y' wanna just sit and listen?" Tros asked.

There was an audible grunt in Nico's voice as he clearly had stimulated himself already to the edge, having to keep his hands off himself as he replied "I wanna...hear a story."

"Well, I got a good one," Tros remarked as he flipped through his mental catalogue for one he particularly enjoyed, one he may have thought Nico would enjoy as well, "was in Australia on R&R, yaknow, takin' a week off and enjoying life. Was on the hunt for pussy, and trust me buddy I got a looot durin' the week I was there, I think like at least two girls a day, sometimes more. They loved the G.I.s. But y' ain't wanna hear that. Anyway, it's like day three. Clyde'd come the same week as me, he'd picked Australia as well, I think wantin' to spend the week with me. Funny enough, he ended up baggin' him some boys early in the week and I barely saw him. But, yeah, s'day three or four of the week and I'm layin' around on the beach when Clyde comes up t' me with this kangaroo fella, real lean meat kinda guy, skinny but fit. Hairy. S'got a nice accent."

Tros' tone had changed as he told the story. He was pumping slow, clearly taking his time, almost seeming like he was telling the story like he was watching porn, letting the buildup tease him. Nico was touching sporadically, keeping himself edged, eager to hear Tros get to the good parts.

"They're butterin' me up, tell me he's got a place'a his own and we should go smoke some herb with him. Knowin' Clyde, I know what that means, but hey, I like herb and I like ass, so I tag along. Guy does have his own place. He's a real down-low fella too, like I could tell he was a fruit but he ain't act it. Beard, shaggy beachy brown hair, the works. S'what I liked about Arthur, too, real naturally masculine, real casual. Anyway, next thing I know we're back at this guy's place only like ten minutes from the beach, all naked, sittin' in his bedroom smokin'. I'm on the bed, Clyde's sittin' near me, kangaroo's in a chair near the bed. Don't even know the guy's name but th' next thing I know, the guy's taking a big puff'a smoke then crawls down between my legs and starts suckin' my cock before he exhales. He's seein' how long he can hold the smoke while he sucks it before I watch smoke blow out his nose like a fuckin' dragon. Don't know why, but that got me stiffer'n'a fuckin' board. Clyde comes up behind me on the bed, hands on my chest, and he starts tweakin' my nipples. I ain't even know that'd feel good! But fuck ME it did, I was in hog heaven."

The old fox's breathing had gotten heavier at this point, his storytelling tone having gotten a bit shaky, excited, and he'd occasionally have to take a swig of beer to soothe the dryness in his mouth from how he'd started to pant. In his pauses, Nico could hear that the slow pumps had gotten wet, Tros evidently precumming. Nico's, meanwhile, was doing the same, dribbling clear as he kept touching it only for moments, right on the edge of blowing.

"Clyde's squeezin' my nipples while he asks who I wanna fuck first. 'Course I wanna try the kangaroo, I ain't ever met one before, s'weird and it's new. But I also don't wanna hurt Clyde's feelings, so I play it off like 'hey, i'm the straight one here, you boys figure out what YOU want', which worked well 'cause I think it made 'em even hornier that I still called myself straight with my pecker in a man's mouth. So they decide the kangaroo's goin' on his back, I get his ass, and Clyde gets his face. So there I am, face-to-face with my squad buddy, balls deep in some Aussie man's asshole fuckin' the daylights outta him while Clyde's gettin' his cock sucked, and I really had a moment right then'n there--maybe it was the weed--where I was thinkin' 'hell with women, this fuckin' rules'", the fox would say as he snickered to himself. Nico noticed, as Tros was telling this story, that one hand was still pumping his dick but the other had gone to playing with his nipple. Seemed Clyde had awakened something in him that had stuck around.

"Next thing I know, Clyde climbs on the guy and turns around, and I watch the kangaroo's dick slide right up in Clyde. He don't move, though, he ain't ridin' it and the kangaroo ain't thrusting, they're both just sittin' there, and I ask what's up and they say 'just keep going, you'll see', which is a weird thing t' hear during sex but I was havin' so much fun that I wasn't about t' let a weird mood shift send me outta there blueballed. So a few minutes passed," Tros would grunt, his breathing audibly ragged, obviously getting close, "and suddenly the roo fella's squirmin', and I feel his ass is squeezin' on me, like HARD squeezin', and his balls are tensin' up and his dick's pumping, and Clyde lifts up and the roo's load just fuckin' spills outta him. The roo's still cummin' and Clyde tells me 'you're makin' him cum himself, Sionnach. How's that for R&R?' and, f-fuck--" Tros would stammer, his teeth gritting, his breathing shaking as he managed to stammer out "a-and I--" before his tense chest would suddenly exhale a tremendous amount of tension. Even in the night air, the barely visible last lights of the evening, Nico could see Tros shooting ropes up in an arc, angled away from his body but jetting hard into the air, spilling all over his dick and hand, his chair, the grass.

The younger fox, of course, barely had to touch himself while he watched that, an audible "mmfff!" unavoidable as Nico felt half a week's worth of pubescent sexual tension shoot out his dick as well, not quite as far or as heavy as Tros but spilling all over his belly, angled back onto himself with a few shots before it drooled all over his stomach and crotch, both their hands pumping audibly wet now as they slid slowly into that post-climax fatigue, relaxed, both finding the tension leaving their bodies leaving them both tired, content. Tros' breathing had gotten wheezy, loud, and as he laid there composing himself, he'd finish the story with "well, I did that. All inside the fucker. Was a good time! I learned t' play the didgeridoo while I was there too. Y' almost forget you're in the middle'a war when you're on those getaways." Tros said as he stood up, no sense of post-climax awkwardness as he went and found his cold, still wet t-shirt from earlier and used it to clean off his dick and hand, tossing it to Nico, who would catch it and immediately, almost reflexively, smell it. Tros' had turned away as Nico had caught the shirt, so he completely missed his grandson rubbing his face in the dick musk and residual cum on his dirty shirt.

The old fox would begin getting ready for bed while Nico washed off his belly in the cold water, eventually brushing his teeth as Tros stood waiting for him, not wanting to leave him in the dark alone, and as the two found themselves in their tent once more, "I love you"s were exchanged and the pair were out like lights.