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Author's Note: the following is a work of furry fiction and may contain acts and situations which may not be suitable for some readers. This may contain yiffery, sexual acts between two males of different species, angst, abuse, and allergies to latex. If any of this offends you, or you are too young or immature to deal with it, go curl up with Harry Potter. If not, then read and enjoy...I strongly suggest you read parts 1 and 2 before this one, or else you'll not know what the hell is going on.

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Order Up 3: Matters of Opinion ©MMV Whyte Yoté

It was a fact of reality, its necessity surprising and utterly powerful. Especially in the city, where the daily lives of millions depended upon its existence. The less of it there was to go around, the more problems surfaced--obstructions in the gears of society. But when a surplus was available, a general air of satisfaction and ease was the order of the day. Of course, this interpretation was not exactly the way a certain silver wolf thought when he opened up the envelope whose address had become familiar to him over the past few months. He just looked at the bigger numbers with a broad grin spread over his muzzle.

Instead of this philosophical extrapolation, Markus thought along the much simpler lines of a bigger paycheck and a slightly easier time making ends meet. Setting the piece of paper to one side of his table, which served as a combination eating surface/desk/nightstand, he placed it with the care of someone diffusing a bomb. It was that important to him.

This month, it meant the wolf would have enough saved to buy the ring. Nothing overly expensive, or bedazzled with gemstones...a simple silver band, meant to shine nicely when surrounded by bright white arctic fur. Markus even knew the right size, having gotten the fox to mention it in passing conversation. But when he would present it to Trystan, or whether he would at all, Markus had no idea.

The lupine glanced over at the check again, copied the figure onto his check register, and set about writing his bills for the month: rent, gas, electric, and nothing else. The building that housed his small studio apartment, although on the edge of the city's definitive ghetto, was nice enough to pay for garbage and water, and as much extra as he made, Markus still did not have enough left to justify cable or Internet. The latter was pretty much impossible anyway, since the wolf had no computer of any kind. He checked his email two blocks down at one of the neighborhood coffee shops.

Each line saw a subtraction from his checking account, and when the last figure was deducted Markus sat and stared at the check register, its shape harshly defined in the waning afternoon sunlight. He figured again in his head...once more with the calculator...and let out a loud "Woohoo!" of joy that bordered on a howl before he caught himself. There was plenty left over, even counting the ring, to ease his troubled mind.

Immediately he started running through a multitude of things he could purchase with his "bonus," but it was all wishful thinking and Markus knew it. Living in the city like he was, the smartest thing to do would be to just leave it and see if he truly needed it for an emergency. If not, no big loss. Besides, he was thinking of more than himself now.

Trystan, in many little ways, was responsible for the vast improvement in Markus' life and attitude as of late. After their threesome with Dean more than two months ago, which had turned out to be a once-only occurrence (to the wolf's relief; he wasn't much of a group person), the little white fox had seemed to pay more attention to him for some reason. Initially, Markus thought it was just because Trystan wanted to affirm his decision to send him from the washroom to the kitchen. But even after he had grown familiar with the intricacies of back-of-the-house operations and proven himself up to the task, the vulpine, to Markus' pleasure, didn't back off.

This was not to say Trystan was pursuing a relationship, but it seemed like nothing else from the wolf's standpoint. He could see sometimes, in those deep violet eyes, a kind of playful indefinite glint, something that was different from lust or cheekiness or happiness. But Markus could not tell what it was, and it bothered him terribly. Not being able to tell what the fox was thinking, combined with his already flagrant but vague body language, made him want to ask questions...questions that would probably get him laughed at. Trystan exuded self-confidence, and that intimidation alone was overpowering to a very reserved wolf like Markus.

Still, the fox was very patient with him, especially when they hung out together. Twice or thrice a week, Trystan would invite Markus over to his place after work to have a late night nosh or catch his latest DVD rip. The food was good, the movies were good, but neither were good enough to keep paws from roving, and the night would end with two very satisfied canines in Trystan's lush satin bed, sweaty or sticky or fast asleep--most of the time it was all three.

Trystan always had the right things to say when faced with Markus' ever-present hesitation, which, in small stages, was becoming less apparent with his increased exposure to the fox's insatiable libido and forward manner. Despite repeated requests, however, the wolf insisted on not letting Trystan penetrate him because he wanted to save himself for "that special someone." The fox understood and would not push the issue further. Little did he know that he was the special someone to whom Markus kept referring. The wolf just wanted to wait for the right time to give him the ring, and then himself, to the fox. He hoped to God he would be accepted...that his suspicions were true.

Invitations to hang out notwithstanding, being in the kitchen held the advantage of closer proximity to the wait staff of Maxine's, and in between slapping steaks on the grill and dropping calamari in the fryer Markus could see directly out to the front of the house and catch his crush sashaying around the tables, his tail naturally raised most of the time. The way he handled his tables was nothing less than a dance, and the fox seemed to keep a mental "to do" list that was constantly edited to anticipate his guests' needs. The kicker was, not once had Markus ever seen Trystan drink any soda, coffee, tea or other caffeine-laced beverage on his shifts. A contrast to his own disheveled, semi-lazy lifestyle, the fox brought a sense of balance to Markus' world.

Running a paw through his still-unbrushed head fur, the wolf sighed a wistful sigh and gathered his finances into a neat little pile. This he transferred over to a shoebox which sat in a corner of his kitchen counter when its presence was not required, or sometimes dreaded.

He stood up and crossed his apartment (it was really only twenty feet across the length of the extended studio) to a small piece of paper taped to the wall by the door. After a short study to confirm his scheduled shift tonight, a six o'clock-to-closer, he checked another, almost identical paper below and smiled when he saw that Trystan was due to come in at five-thirty, also closing. He didn't mind the promise of six hours working together one bit.

Pollution-filtered sunlight glowed amber through the single window, casting a corresponding bar of orange light through the small room. If Markus didn't hurry to run errands and make his train, the manager of Maxine's would never let him hear the end of it...neither would Trystan. He wouldn't want to let either of them down.

* * *

If Trystan didn't hurry, Steve would never let him hear the end of it. Though he lived about half the distance from the restaurant as Markus did, he still had to catch a subway and switch trains midway to work. In his current state, however, he would need a hot shower and a good conditioning before he looked sexy enough to be presentable for his tables. The fox cast an annoyed glance at his bedside clock and struggled to read the display.

"Could you move your head to the left?" he asked, and the red fox into whose ass he was currently pumping complied, lowering his front half a bit in the process. "Thank you," he said without a trace of emotion, and read the big green numbers. The vulpine shifted his legs and increased speed.

"Are you bored, or do you have to be somewhere?" inquired Brue, the rusty-red boytoy of the day. Brue wasn't the smartest fox in the world, but he had a tight tailhole, and he had been available that afternoon.

"I already told you I have to work in an hour in a half, and it takes me a while to get ready and get there."

"Call in sick, then."

"Unlike you, I have a job, and respect for authority, and a work ethic. I've never called in sick, and I never will unless I think I'm dying. We have plenty of time to finish up." Well, the afternoon had now been effectively turned from a romantic bivulpine fling to a business discussion. Any time now, Brue was due to cut him off, but Trystan wanted to see if he could get off just once before that happened. The arctic leaned forward and squatted down just a touch and withdrew, now pleasuring only the head of his cock. It was a shortcut to finish himself, and he knew that, but it sure beat pawing the rest of the way.

"Mmph, that's good," murred Brue into a silk-covered pillow, his tail flaccid but happily fwap-fwap-fwapping Trystan in the face. For a moment he thought the words were an answer to his previous statement, but quickly he realized it was just a response to his buggering. Well, if it felt good now, then maybe there was a chance.

There weren't many times when Trystan regretted his own species. Most of the time it didn't even matter, especially when partnering up for a night of fun. He could go home with a wolf (Markus, of course, sprang up first in his mind) or a tiger, or even a nice stallion if he was feeling particularly kinky, without recourse because sexually-transmitted diseases were species-specific. Members of the canid family were okay, just as long as they weren't foxes. Condoms were the enemy to Trystan, and he had only used them when he was younger and naïve and scared but horny all at the same time.

But it was people like Brue, with his iridescent green eyes and equally-impressive libido, who really frustrated Trystan. The red was irresistible, single, and as much of a bottom as Trystan himself could be a top sometimes. But two pesky facts always prevented them from making the best out of their time spent together. Not only was Brue of the same species, he was mildly allergic to latex, so every time Trystan got to hump that cute little bubble-butt, it was only a matter of time until discomfort cut the pleasure short.

Today, though, time was not on his side. He had approximately ninety minutes until he had to leave, and even if he came now he would be cutting it perilously short. That didn't seem to pose a threat any longer, because Brue's reaction to his protected cock was becoming increasingly interspersed with random vulgarities. He would murr, then growl, then moan into the sheets only to cut it short with a pained gasp. Trystan knew what was coming, but kept his rhythm anyway. As he felt his erection flagging, he couldn't help but listen to the red's mixed sounds and picture someone masturbating with sandpaper--the ultimate paradox.

"Fuck, Trystan, I can't do this!" Brue sputtered with anger and shame tinging his voice. "I can't even play with myself when we're like this; and you know my ass can't take the latex that long."

Trystan was more than a little perturbed...not nearly as much from his aborted orgas

m as from Brue's admissions of physical harm. Roughly he withdrew from the red's tailhole, his penis not even erect enough to hold a respectable angle, and turned the other fox onto his back.

"What?" Brue asked, reasonably confused and a little alarmed.

"Can't you take a pill or something?" the arctic retorted immediately, not realizing the harsh inconsideration of his words. The look of dejection on Brue's muzzle was enough to make him hold any additional comments he might have made. It quickly grew into scorn.

"Oh yeah, I'll just stick a suppository up me and everything will be all better. It's not my fault, y'asshole." Trystan knew to back off as soon as he heard the trace of Cajun spice creep into the words. No, it wasn't Brue's fault in the least, but dammit! He'd been horny all day, and had counted himself lucky to run into the fellow fox at the neighborhood organic market near his place. Before they had even struck up a conversation, it was a foregone conclusion that they would be hooking up soon.

The condom came off, a little painful since he had to pry it over his knot without using claws, and Trystan settled onto his side, cuddling up close to the red to try and reconcile his selfishness. "I'm sorry, hon," he tried softly, constantly judging Brue's face for forgiveness. For a full minute the other fox stared at the ceiling, perfectly neutral, then closed his eyes. Brue swallowed, sighed, and seemed to visibly settle further into the mattress. So something else was bothering the little red fox, huh? That's what had fueled the outburst of venom.

"Trystan? Why are we doing this?"

"What, exactly do you mean, are we doing?" Trystan answered back. Glad that Brue wasn't overtly pissed at him, he was now genuinely curious as to why a perfectly good yiff session had turned into a nymphophilosophical discussion.

"I mean," stumbled Brue, looking like he was grasping for straws out of his league, "why did we come up here? Just to have sex? Was that the only thing on your mind when you said hello to me in the store?"

"Yes," said the arctic, hoping the frankness of it would make up for what he knew was utter shallowness on his part. The sour face Brue made, however, indicated it hadn't been the best thing to say.

I thought so."

Trystan tried a little backpedaling. "No, hon, it's not like that. You know I like you, right?"

"You do?" asked the red, finally turning to face him. There was a small glimmer of hope in those emerald eyes, but it was a fleeting thing laced with reality.

"God...you know how long we've been friends?"

"I don't know, year and a half, maybe."

"Shouldn't you know me better than that?"

"Not when you say things like that to me," said Brue. "Makes me wonder if I'm anything more than a tailhole with a person attached."

This statement was not untrue, actually. Trystan had certain levels of friends: there were the casual acquaintances--the one-night stands, back alley flings, all the anonymous pawjobs he'd given; the casual friends--people whose names he bothered to get, fuck buddies, other servers at Maxine's and dancers at Tips 'N Tails; the good friends like Brue and Markus about whose lives he shared a vested interest and cared...and there was the boyfriend bracket, which was currently--and had been for a while--empty.

Trystan switched positions, trying not to make Brue roll around too much on the coil spring mattress next to him, and paused to carefully craft an answer. For some reason, this time it was more difficult than usual.

"Yeah," spat the red. "Yeah, that's pretty much what I thought." Before Trystan could defend his silence, Brue had stood up and was going about the task of picking up his scattered clothing, moving through the light and stirring up thousands of tiny dust particles in his wake. He wasn't crying and he wasn't fuming, but that was the most perplexing and disturbing thing of all: Brue remained perfectly straight-faced, which normally would have been impossible for more than one reason.

"Hey, if this is all because of your stupid allergy, I didn't mean what I said!" sputtered the arctic, indignance still on the edge of his words. "Why are you all of a sudden taking things so damn literally?"

"I'm NOT!" Brue spun around to face the other fox with fangs bared. The white tip of his tail twitched menacingly at the air behind him. Then his whole body seemed to sag with a loss of energy, but he nonetheless continued to gather his things. Suddenly Trystan felt very out of place, sprawled naked on the bed with a mostly-sheathed penis. "I'm just frustrated with...things between us."

"Things? We have things?" asked the arctic, emphasizing the quotations with his fingers. "Now you're freaking me out. Brue? Brue!" The other fox had donned his mesh briefs, and was clearly trying to get out of his apartment as soon as he could. He seemed to shrink further as Trystan tried to get his attention. How could he bring something this serious, something this new, into the conversation and expect to just leave it there unanswered?

The white vulpine launched himself off the bed and stood in front of Brue to block his way. When the red tried to push past him, Trystan took hold of his shoulders and dragged him bodily back to the bed, shoving him hard down onto the pillowtop.

"Get the fuck off me!"

"Not until you give me some answers, you little bitch," Trystan said, trying very hard not to lose his temper. He didn't want a confrontation, especially after seeing how much Brue's character had changed with apparently no prior indication. "What things are between us?"

Brue was not struggling, but his muscles quivered tensely under Trystan's stronger body. "I'm sorry I ever said anything, okay? Now just let me go."

"Only if you answer my question," the arctic replied in a much softer tone. The outburst had, thankfully, been a temporary show of bravado. Trystan let him go, but slowly and guardedly. "Jesus Christ, what's wrong with you?"

Brue propped himself up onto his shoulders, using them as leverage while he folded his legs underneath him. "I'm sorry, Trystan. I just said a bunch of stuff I didn't mean. It came out all wrong. I didn't mean to infer than there's something between us, like a relationship or anything. The truth is, most of the time I can hardly tell what our relationship is, or if it's even a relationship at all."

"But I just told you we're friends...good friends. I hardly ever see you but twice a month! Is there a difference of opinion I didn't know about?" Trystan sat down next to the other fox and put an arm around him, thankful when Brue didn't shrug him off.

"I guess so. I have a question for you: why don't we have relationships, like boyfriends?"

"Don't know about you, but I'm just fine window shopping. I have no intention of settling down...I got too many guys who want a piece of me; who would I be to deny them of that?" Trystan shrugged. Whether or not Brue wanted to hear that, it was the God's honest truth. He'd told countless would-be boyfriends about his hypersexual tendencies; not one of them had had an outright problem, and the few who did hadn't let a little thing like extra partners come between them (no pun intended, of course) and their cute white foxy.

"I suppose," replied the red with a bit of resigned sarcasm, "you wouldn't be the best fox you could be."

"Are you insinuating that all foxes are sluts?" Trystan raised an eyebrow and let a paw wander over Brue's still-exposed chest, feeling an immediate relaxing in his upper body.

Brue paused to languish in the feeling before rolling his eyes. "See? Here I am, trying to have an intelligent discussion with you, and you're just trying to eschew the subject by getting me hard again."

That was not actually Trystan's intent at all. At the very least he wanted to allay whatever Brue's worst fears were about this relationship thing, whether it was through encouragement or the opposite. "Using the bigger words now, are we?" This gained another, more pronounced, eye-roll. "Okay, Brue, what do you want from me?"

That fuzzy white paw moved in general circles, smoothing the red's light belly down, then against the grain, roaming over everything from his neck to his groin but never really touching anything specific. Brue contemplated under Trystan's watchful gaze, then said, "I suppose at one time I would have said I wanted to be your boyfriend."

Trystan stopped dead.

Brue continued, "You're so difficult to read sometimes, and you never open up enough for me to tell whether you're kidding or serious with a lot of things. When I first thought about being...with you, it was only a couple of months ago, and I thought that previous year had given me enough to believe I really knew you. But, I was way off. At least I wasn't counting on anything to happen."

"So you've been pursuing me for the last two months?"

"Actually, closer to three."

It took a long moment or two, but the pure flattery in Brue's admission struck the arctic heavy in his chest. He was truly touched that someone had wanted to be with him as more than lovers. Then again, it wasn't too surprising; nearly every partner said something to that effect after an all-night romp, but Trystan knew it was mostly based on his looks and ability to seduce practically anyone who cared to look his way for more than a first glance.

Trystan rotated to the right, keeping one paw on Brue's chest while turning the red's muzzle to his with the other. "That's awfully sweet of you, foxy. I really had no idea." A small kiss, followed by an affectionate lick, was placed on Brue's upper lip. "I'm touched, and I feel horrible for having to disappoint you, but--"

"I already know what you're going to say...deep down, I knew it all along." Brue was now smiling sheepishly, but at least he was looking at Trystan.

"Really? Good, I'm glad you can understand I'm just not interested in relationships in general right now." But the smile faded from the red's face. Now he just looked plain confused.

"What about Markus?"

"Huh?"

"Markus. The wolf at Maxine's?"

"Oh...oh! Yeah, yeah..." Trystan must have looked pretty funny then, because the smile was back, accompanied by a girlie little giggle that was practically the only thing to bely Brue's sexuality. He knew he at least was blushing, and that rush of blood showed easily through the nearly-furless tips of his ears. "No, hon, Markus and I aren't a thing. I can see how you would draw that conclusion, though. I just used my powers of vulpine persuasion to get him moved from that awful dishroom to the kitchen. He likes it there; he's awesome at work. And best of all, he gets to see more of me each night." This last was whispered self-indulgently into the red's ear.

Brue shuddered. "You sure see enough of him."

"If it makes you feel better," murred the arctic, "I don't play favorites. He's in no better position than you are."

"I'm so relieved." If Brue resented Trystan's outright rejection of him, he had either recovered fairly quickly or his hopes hadn't been that high to begin with. "And what position, pray tell, would that be?"

"Something on all fours, I hope." Aplomb restored, the arctic thought. He never knew precisely why, but giving a reason why he wasn't searching for a steady relationship always proved to be so difficult that he could do nothing but dance around the subject. There was just no truthful answer to be had...nothing he could consciously think of, at least. Trystan didn't know how uncomfortable he actually had been until he felt the wave of relief as he said that very suggestive statement. From the way Brue rolled backwards to paws and knees on the bed, the little red seemed satisfied enough with his weak attempt at an explanation.

"Sorry, Brue, but we already tried that, remember?" Seeing his friend like that reminded Trystan of the difference between Brue and Markus...namely the fact that even though the arctic had to wear a condom with the fox, the wolf wouldn't even let him underneath his tail. Still, they would end up with the same result as before. When Brue's newly-adopted playful demeanor did not falter, he continued, "There must be something you'd like just as much." With that, he moved to his knees and up to Brue's smirking muzzle, noting through the mesh briefs that their conversation had done nothing to curb the red's enthusiasm for other things.

Brue licked his lips as the white sheath, mostly full, crept close to his nose with every awkward step of its owner. "So, are we good?" he asked, looking up over the tube of flesh, eagerness just about bursting from him.

Bending down to lick at the short, rusty fur between his ears, the arctic said, "If you say we are, then we are. So why don't you go ahead and be the best orifice you can be?"

The reaction to this was immediate, as Trystan thought it would be. Brue loved to be talked dirty to, especially during rough sex, and to be treated as nothing more than a set of convenient holes in which to put a vulpine cock was just as Brue preferred things. Chirping happily, he buried his nose under Trystan's balls and began to give him the best rimming he could give in that position. As much as the arctic would have loved to just lie back and spread his legs for that wonderful tongue, an orgasm was the thing he wanted most. He settled for staying on his knees and watching Brue work him up.

His tailhole having been sufficiently slathered, the red drew back just enough to drag his cold nose along the underside of the white scrotum, causing the whole thing to practically disappear into his body. Brue's tail swished lazily from side to side, arched over his body like a furry feather-duster, gradually going faster as he neared the opening of Trystan's sheath, already moist with precum from his earlier efforts. The red sniffed and licked, sniffed and licked, prodding each side of the hidden shaft with his muzzle and whiskers. Trystan moaned and giggled with respect to each touch.

"Don't keep me waiting, hon," he managed right before the licking reached the top of his sheath and that hot tongue probed within, easily reaching the tip of his cock, coaxing it out without aid from either fox's paws. Brue knew what to do to cut to the chase for Trystan, and he did it well and without hesitation. Still on all fours, the red merely pursed his lips and bobbed, first just slightly and then more pronouncedly as the flesh between his teeth grew longer and harder.

Soon the arctic had to move his paws from his knees onto the bed, leaning back to keep his balance. He could see nothing of his black shaft between his sheath and Brue's lips, which made the pleasure that much more invisible and erotic. What he could see, however, was the lemon-sized knot still hidden but bulging inside its covering of fur. When Brue finally reached the point where he was pushing the sheath over that knot, Trystan had to struggle to push him gently away. At this point in time he didn't want to wait fifteen minutes to get rid of his erection, and he could come just as easily without his full length out in the open.

The open, of course, was a hot wet muzzle accompanied by a tongue that matched Trystan's cock inch for inch and rolled it from side to side, each time coming in contact with one small sweet spot on its underside about halfway down from the tip. Slower was better, and as the arctic began his first few small thrusts the contact with said tongue gave Brue his first taste of his fellow fox that day. He hummed around the ebony shaft as he continued to work it over, making the short white fuzz of Trystan's sheath wet with extra saliva as it advanced and retreated with his lips.

As much pleasure as he was receiving, Trystan still could not help but feel a little guilty about Brue's needs. He felt he really should be reciprocating the favor, or at least bent over his back pawing him off at the same time. But in his position, bent backwards and propped up with trembling arms, and with Brue showing no signs of moving or letting up, he was pretty much a prisoner to that beautiful, wet muzzle of his. As soon as he stopped thrusting and just let the red fox do his thing, the pleasure increased tenfold. Apparently, less was more today.

Grunting now, the arctic muttered, "Close, boy," hoping the term of ownership would spur Brue to finish him off quickly. He was correct in that hope, as the red started making hungry little whimpering sounds around the base of his shaft, dragging his tongue even slower and sending Trystan crashing over the edge of his senses. A half-hearted bark was the only indication he gave, and it came only a split-second before he cupped Brue's chin with a paw and craned his head down, bringing the spurting cock to a ninety-degree angle with his body to encourage the flow of semen.

Trystan's hips moved, but only slightly so as Brue was doing a fine job of sucking him dry. He watched the whole thing--fingers circled around the base of his knot, noting the way his sheath bunched up around the red's nose, the way his body was motionless with the exception of his gulping throat muscles, and that ever-wagging tail, slowing now that its owner had gotten his fill.

Once he was sure that his balls had been thoroughly emptied, Trystan's eyes finally were able to fall on the digital clock again. His heart did an all-too-familiar flip of dread deep in his chest, and he backed away, detaching from Brue's muzzle with a muted wet pop. Surprised at the loss of mass in his mouth, the red looked up at his friend, then behind him at the bedside table.

"Oh shit, Trystan! I'm sorry...I had no idea we were taking so long!"

The arctic kneeled forward and pushed Brue up, cuddling him close. "Don't worry about it. I have time to get ready. I just have to hurry...just a little less makeup than usual," he quipped, getting a smile from the other vulpine. "I'm just sorry I can't take care of you. After that whole...thing, I owe you as much."

"No need," said Brue, breaking the embrace and backing up a little bit. "I took care of that about halfway through." Trystan looked down and confirmed the mess on his sheets. He ran a finger through the splatter, brought it to his lips, and gave it a perfunctory lick. Somewhere along the line the sneaky fox had pulled his own erection out and pawed to climax without him even noticing.

"Mmm, spicy," he said. "Have you been eating jambalaya again?"

"You can take the fox out of Canal Street, but you can't take Canal Street out of the fox," the red replied, referring to his childhood home in the South.

"No, I don't suppose you can. Grab a towel and clean off; I have to get ready toute de suite." Trystan hopped off the bed and walked toward the bathroom, noticing that even though he had climaxed not two minutes prior, he was again fully sheathed.

"So you think you can just go around throwing words out like that? You're on thin ice, buddy. Don't make fun of other people's cultures. I doubt you even know what that means."

Trystan was already in the adjoining bathroom, but he could still hear fine. "Sure I do. It means 'fuck you' in Cajun."

Brue's high-pitched giggle bounced off the walls and back to the arctic's ears. "Uh-huh. But we already tried that, and if my memory is correct, you failed miserably."

* * *

The time-clock had just passed the five-thirty mark when the arctic fox had punched his code into the main screen. He had felt dirty, not having had the chance to take a shower before leaving for work. Tonight he would just have to make do and hope none of his tables noticed the lack of sheen in his fur; he was happy enough to not be late at all.

The good thing about the subway was that, no matter how crowded the streets above became, there was never a delay, never a change in the time it took to get from Point A to Point B every day, day in and day out. Sometimes there were too many people to catch a train as fast as one wanted, but the next one came by soon enough to only make a few minutes' worth of difference.

Dinner had come slowly but steadily, and Trystan's five-table section was almost full. Tonight was proving to be relatively easy so far, and it was the kind of atmosphere the fox took to most readily. He was already in a good mood from Brue's earlier services, so he tried to pass it on to his tables, albeit in a more professional way. Serving was a two-way street, after all.

To make up for his less-than-stellar grooming, the fox was decked out in a mock-Chippendale's getup that consisted of ultra-short formal shorts, a very expensive black sequined vest, and a purple bowtie to match his eyes. He hadn't found any shoes that would complement the ensemble, so he was wearing a pair of almost-invisible sandals made specifically to accentuate his foxy footpaws as he swished around the floor.

He was bringing some clean silverware up from the dishroom (where he'd been extra careful not to slip) when he spied the hostess ushering a family into one of his booths. Now, that was something you didn't see every day...a family coming to Maxine's all-gay-all-the-time restaurant. Giving them some time to settle in, the vulpine detoured into the kitchen, looking around a bit before he actually found the wolf for whom he was looking.

"Markus!" he yelled over the din of stoves, fryers and some unidentifiable Latin music from one of the radios in the back. After hearing his name repeated again, Markus turned and smiled as soon as he saw who had been calling him. The wolf set a timer and came up to the window, leaning over the line enough so he could talk without screaming.

"Hi, Trystan. I've hardly seen you tonight. Is it really that busy, because I'm a little bored back here."

"It's dead," replied the vulpine, washing his paws in the sink while he talked. "I've just been making sure to do an extra-special job of taking care of my clients."

"Clients? You're a fucking lawyer now?"

Giving the wolf a disapproving mock-slap on the cheek, Trystan said, "Language! No swearing on the clock, wuffie. Company policy."

"Oh, come on. That was barely above a whisper, and besides, there is no policy about swearing. Steve does it all the time back here!"

Trystan's face wore condescension, but his tail told an entirely different story. "Still, it doesn't suit you," he pouted, and cupped Markus' chin with a wet paw. "Could you do me a favor?" The wolf looked like he'd just been given a bowl of candy...or lube.

"Sure, any time."

"On table 53, I rang in some spinach dip and chips. Could you make sure that's extra hot, please?"

"Oh," said Markus, his face downtrodden. What had he been expecting, really? "Yeah, I can do that. No problem."

"Jesus, it's not like I'm modifying some asshole's food ten thousand times. It doesn't have to be about sex all the time, you know." Seeing the lupine blush answered his suspicion, to the fox's chagrin. He raised the silver-furred chin again, meeting his gaze and holding it. "Do you ever think about anything else?"

"Not when you're here to distract me." Ow...shot down.

"I take no responsibility. Now, I believe you have a fryer to attend to." Markus turned around, reluctantly, wiped the water from his chin, and silenced the beeping timer. Trystan knew the wolf wanted to be invited over after work again, but he would not allow himself to beg for it. That wolf really did have sex on the brain. It was the fox's fault for initiating him so...intensely in the bathroom several months back, but Markus was the only one who could be in control of his own sex drive. Frankly, the vulpine didn't give a shit whether the wolf pawed off in the prep area, as long as food got to his tables.

"Later, wuffie," he singsonged, blowing a kiss and not waiting to see if it was caught. He wheeled out the IN door and stopped by the beverage station to stock up on silverware and napkins.

There were four raccoons at the table, a corner booth. Trystan took stock of his section as he passed, trying to keep his tail in an out-of-the-way-yet-enticing position, gave a last "thank you" to a table that was leaving, and approached the family.

"Hi there, guys," he said cheerfully, making eye contact with each member. There were two parents and their children, a boy of about sixteen and a girl somewhere under ten. The older coons looked to be around the forty-year mark, but a very young (and obviously open-minded) forty. The girl played distractedly with crayons, scribbling on the menu, but the boy was very openly staring at the suggestively-dressed fox who had come to greet them. Puberty's effects were noticeable in the way the young male assessed Trystan's body without even bothering to be nonchalant. The fox thought he knew the reason the family had come to Maxine's.

"What can I do for you?" the fox continued.

"We're not quite ready just yet," the father piped up. By the way his eyes wandered around, he was not the one who had chosen dinner this evening.

"Let's start with some drinks, then."

The father deferred to his wife, who looked to her son expectantly. The young male's eyes were still glued to Trystan, unblinking, but it wasn't out of attraction as much as it was the novelty of an actual gay guy, there, right in front of him. He yelped when his mother nudged him in the ribs.

"Roger, rudeness!"

"Sorry, mom." Roger sank a little further into the booth, wringing his paws.

Trying not to smile too hard, Trystan decided to help the little guy along. "Okay, we got Coke products, Dr. Pepper, root beer, lemonade, iced teas..."

"Um, root beer," came the mumbled reply.

"Good," said Roger's mother, relieved. "My daughter will have a milk, and I'll take raspberry iced tea, if you have it. Dear?" The father cleared his throat and said, "Beer. Um, something dark."

"Would you like to know what we have on tap?" asked the fox.

"Surprise me." Obviously trying to show some trust for this unfamiliar joint, huh?

"Gotcha. I'll go track these down and give you guys a few minutes to decide, okay?" The family nodded, and before he turned to walk away he placed a paw on young Roger's shoulder, patting it encouragingly. "You did fine, hon," he whispered. He made sure the coon saw his smile, then strode away to the kitchen to make drinks.

Roger was a cute kid, even if he was in his teens. The fox wondered what the family's story was: kid comes out to family, family argues, mother takes charge and gives kid the benefit of the doubt, everybody comes downtown for dinner and tolerance...something like that. At least it was a small sign of progress in the world.

Stopping by an empty table to pick up a check, the fox looked down and scowled when he saw what was written on the chit. "Fucking assholes." He should have known, and he was pretty much expecting it, but those two facts did little to allay the anger in him. Trystan wasn't a specist, and he gave the same service to every table he had...same smile, same flirty demeanor...but there were just some people who were so...predictably...ghetto. Dobermans, Rottweilers, and rats were among the few who, in this city, tended to be in that category, and lived up to the stigma more often than not. It didn't give Trystan a reason to prejudge, but he could at least predict the outcome, and be surprised if there was an exception to the rule.

He wasn't bothered by it too long, though; the low tippers and the stiffers would get restaurant karma up the ass, tenfold. The order was entered, the drinks poured, and the fox sat and joked for a minute while the bartender poured him a tall Märzenfest, one of their newer pale ales. He whipped by the kitchen again, mostly for the benefit of Markus, who always seemed to be looking up when he passed, and launched himself out to the front of the house.

Trystan set everything down in front of the drinks' respective owners, noting particularly how the father sipped, then drank of his beer approvingly. "Do you guys need more time, or are ya ready to go?"

"I think we need just a couple more minutes," said the mother with a smile. Trystan nodded, turned around to go, and almost let go a shrill squeak of scared surprise.

There he was.

The fact that he had noticed, and recognized, the rabbit just sitting down three tables away in his section so quickly was puzzling enough, without the addition of that rabbit being a certain fox's ex-boyfriend. As plain as day, in the low light of Maxine's, it was the same old lapine who was shoving his bulk into the booth, accompanied by three acquaintances (it was Trystan's experience-molded opinion that Pierce never made friends, only forced them) and giving the hostess a smile of false thanks and an unrequited pat on the rear. For a fag, he sure knew how to offend everybody.

The fox didn't realize he was standing stock-still in the middle of the dinner rush until the pain from clutching his order book against his chest grew uncomfortable. He tucked it back into his apron, let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and reversed out of the aisle as fast as he could without tripping up other servers. The sudden surge of rage he felt was certainly enough to scare him.

"Holy..." he murmured, making a beeline for the kitchen, his duties suddenly pushed to the back burner. Shaking, Trystan ducked into a seldom-used mop station to collect himself, already sweating uncomfortably despite his minimalist outfit.

What was he here for? Certainly, he wouldn't dare try anything as profoundly stupid as violence in a public restaurant, with a family like Roger's around, would he? Perhaps the most puzzling thing of all was Trystan's inability to find one single reason why the rabbit would come looking for him. They were way beyond over. The little piece of paper in his wallet said so. Pierce had no business being at Maxine's, unless he honestly didn't know Trystan worked here, in which case the fox could just get another server to take the table and avoid confrontation altogether. But if that rabbit had an ulterior motive...

Gathering his thoughts again, and smoothing his clothing out of habit more than anything, Trystan exited back into the front of the house, yelling "Corner!" as he walked. That bit of normalcy was enough to make him crack a smile, raise his tail and feel like a server again. He took the long way around, gathering up silverware just as if he were about to approach any other table, then headed for what was to undoubtedly be an interesting conversation, whatever direction it took. A fresh wave of trepidation was summarily squashed with a deep breath. The time to be afraid was over. This was his turf, his restaurant, and far be it from him to let a jerk like Pierce ruin his night.

"Well, well," the fox began, speaking a little louder than he should have, "look who saw fit to come back and grace my restaurant with his lovely presence?" The comment carried equal amounts of sarcasm and friendly banter, so whatever way Pierce went from here was a justifiable reaction. The rabbit looked up from his menu, already smiling...patronizingly. He had known Trystan would be here, working, and in this section. That little flutter of fear returned to the back of the fox's throat, but only as background noise to his strong outward appearance.

A quick scan of the rest of the table yielded two wolves, grey and greyer, and an Appaloosa stallion. All three looked casually at the fox with abounding neutrality, showing no indication of malice toward him. Just friends, maybe? His entourage? They didn't show any sign that Pierce had prepoisoned their opinions of him.

The rabbit continued to smile, and the way his cheeks seemed to squeeze his eyes shut was unnerving. Looking down at his ex-boyfriend, Trystan noticed a familiar dilation of Pierce's pupils, the slight droop in his ears, and knew the game was already his. The lapine was drugged out on something, probably a little cocaine appetizer before confronting his long-lost fox on his own turf. Oh, this was going to be sweet!

"That hot bitch Lucy up front said you'd be working tonight," began Pierce without the slightest hint of regard for anyone but himself. "I thought I'd show the boys here what I've been missing for the past two years." One of the wolves and the stallion grinned and waved amiably, acting as if they were here only to indulge their friend. The other wolf was muzzle-deep in his menu.

"I suppose I should be glad one of us is missing the other."

"Oooh, man, you got served!" cried the wolf who had waved. Try any harder to be ghetto and I'll smack you, thought Trystan as he kept his cynical smile, enjoying taking his ex apart bit by bit. He didn't care if Pierce went to the manager, or tried to get him fired. The only thing that mattered was the little piece of paper in his back pocket.

"Shut the fuck up, Adair," growled the rabbit, as much as he could growl, realized Trystan was still watching, and continued. "I can see you haven't lost that fire I always loved about you." Said in a more sincere tone, from any other person, the fox would have been tempted to believe him, but he'd been through too much not to have learned a lesson and remembered it. Coming from Pierce, they just seemed...so fucking worthless. If it's fire he wanted, though, it was fire he was going to get.

"Love, huh? You can't possibly have come here just to try and say you still love me. How much money do you need? Or how much sex? Knowing you, it's probably both." The other wolf, silent until now, snickered at this, which prompted an immediate reaction. Pierce threw down his menu and held the wolf by the throat, and brought his muzzle as close as proximity would allow. The warning look the rabbit gave him was all too recognizable; the fox had seen that in many a public place, and it usually was followed by a requisite beating later on in the evening. It was a fair assumption that while Brandon wasn't Pierce's current boyfriend, the two were definitely having sex. Trystan pitied the lupine, for a moment.

"Just because you haven't found a replacement for me yet doesn't mean you have to diss me, foxy," the rabbit defended. Ugh, how he hated that belittling term! "Foxy" was fine by itself, but Pierce had equated it with "bitch." Now, that connection was unforgettable. God knew what he was calling his boytoy..."puppy?"

Trystan was taken back. "Excuse me? You think I haven't found a replacement for you? There's a wolf in the kitchen who would take issue with that." It was a complete lie, but the rabbit's look of loss was priceless. The fox decided to step in with a little more salt to rub. "Pierce, honey, I've got a drawer full of replacements for you back at my apartment. They're all very large, and some of them even use D-cell batteries." This time Pierce's three friends just looked at him. What they were thinking was without question.

"Oh, you guys...you guys," the fox kept on, excited now, "you don't know? Brandon probably does, right? God's gift to bottoms, and all five and a half inches of him? I mean, I know he makes up for his complete lack of size in technique and thrusting speed, but sometimes you just wanna be filled, right?" He addressed the wolf directly. "You must not be a size queen, are you?" He shrank visibly into the booth, gutless to say anything at all.

"You can stop it anytime, Trystan." The rabbit's ears were deeply flushed; he definitely hadn't expected to come here and be torn down by the little bitch of a fox he had broken so long ago. Trystan's confidence grew with each snide comment he made, and he would not stop until Pierce left, thoroughly embarrassed.

"Why should I? You never listened to me when I told you to stop. 'Pierce, stop hitting me!'" he mimicked cruelly. "'Pierce, stop making me drink! Pierce, I don't want to sniff that stuff! Pierce, I don't feel like fucking after you beat me up! Pull it out, pull it out!' Does that sound fucking familiar?" His voice was just below a yell, and while most people hadn't heard, a few nearby could tell something was amiss. Trystan looked to the raccoon family, and Roger was the only one looking at him, with concern. He didn't want the little guy to think he was going to grow up to be like this; getting Pierce and his posse out of here as fast as he could was the most important thing.

Pierce wasn't looking around. His eyes, dead and glaring, were centered upon the fox's violet ones. "I'm warning you, fox," he snarled, "you keep this up and it's not going to be nice. Now, are you going to do your job and serve us, or am I going to have to get your manager?" This was ludicrous! Pierce still wanted to actually eat? Oh, Trystan knew the rabbit would get his manager, just to prove a point, and more if allowed to stay on top of this little quarrel. But either he was too macho or too stupid to let the protection order stand in his way.

"Let's just go," muttered the stallion, already halfway out of the booth, but by the way he was moving he didn't care much to stay with Pierce even if they left. Glad to be of service, thought the fox. Just informing the masses.

"No. I am NOT leaving until I get a meal, Trystan. I came here to be served by you and that's what you're going to do, got it?"

"I ain't got shit," shot back the fox. "And you're not getting anything from me. And no amount of alcohol, drugs, or physical pain will make me bow down to you any more. I learned my lesson last time, in court. Now would you please go ahead and leave so I can get back to my other tables, the ones that treat me like a person?"

All niceties, whether real or pretensed, were stripped away, and the seething, high mess in front of him was all that remained. It was Pierce, as he always had been, down to a "T." "I swear to God, you faggot--don't you dare brush me off again, or I'll make sure you never forget me." The lapine started to puff up behind the table. If that was meant to scare Trystan, it wasn't working. Not anymore.

The fox was dismissive, haughty. "I may be a faggot, but at least I make it look good. Now go home and beat on your little wuffie there, before he wises up and calls the cops too. You may even be able to get a couple of fucks in, if you're lucky." His muzzle felt like it was going to burst if he didn't stop smiling, but damn it if that didn't feel good!

Pierce was suddenly up and flying over the table before anyone had a chance to see it happening. Trystan had zero time to realize what a vulnerable position he was in, and when the blow slammed his lower ribs and slid off into his lungs, it came with surprising and excruciating pain. After that point there were only sounds and the shift in the fox's equilibrium as he fell to the floor, curled up and fighting for air. If the rabbit decided to come in for another punch, it would be more than easy to inflict damage.

There were mingled shouts and screams; the former probably from the stallion and wolf who wasn't with Pierce, the latter coming from the general direction of Roger's family. It killed Trystan that he was irreversibly part of a scene no restaurant-goer ever wants to be witness to, but his chest hurt so much he still didn't dare open his eyes.

"Cool it man, just cool it!" came a voice from Pierce's table, and the sounds of shuffling shoes which followed, along with the grunting, meant that the rabbit was being restrained, and barely so.

"Hey!" Another voice, this time from the direction of the kitchen. God, it sounded like Steve! Approaching fast, by the sound of the footsteps. "Is there some kind of--Trystan!" How good it felt, that rush of displaced air as the skunk knelt down beside him, cradling his small form in his meaty but gentle arms. "What the fuck happened?" he whispered when he knew he couldn't be heard.

The fox finally mustered the strength to open his eyes, inherently thankful the lights were down low. "He...came back, I don't know why..." He coughed roughly, the sound very loud now that half of Maxine's had stopped their meals to watch the drama unfolding among them. The fact that about two hundred people were watching him did little to assuage the pain in his stomach. But he did want it to end, and fast. Instead of trying to explain further, he just rolled over, dug into a back pocket, and pulled out his wallet. Tears started to well up in his eyes, but he would not let them fall. There was no reason for them. Plucking the little piece of paper, folded almost to oblivion, he handed it to his manager.

"Get him out of here."

Steve looked at the photocopy, his face turning from a frown to an outright scowl. "That's him?"

"Y-yeah."

"D'you wanna press charges?"

"Just get him the fuck away from me," the fox spat with utter derision.

Steve got the idea, and stood up with authority. "You...all of you troublemakers out of my restaurant. Now, before I call the police and make it worse."

Pierce stared at the skunk, his anger not flagged in the least, then down at Trystan, who merely looked back blankly. "I'll kill you, you little fucker. You are nothing, understand? Nuh-thing."

"Consider yourselves banned for life. Go," repeated the skunk. Now a small crowd of onlookers had gathered along the perimeter of Trystan's section. Steve waved a paw, saying, "He's fine, folks. Everyone go back to your meals; it's under control." He then helped the fox to shaky feet.

"Thanks, Steve," he said. "You have impeccable timing."

"You sure you're okay? I can cut you from the floor if you want. I'm not going to write you up or anything."

"No, it's fine. I have tables to serve. Nothing a few pity tips wouldn't cure." Trystan bent over to collect a few pens that had fallen out of his apron, stood up on tiptoe and pecked the skunk on the cheek. I may have to owe him more for that later, he thought, but the idea of fooling around with the slightly chubby mephit held no negativity for him. "Thanks again...now go manage." Blushing, Steve just walked away.

The fox brushed himself down, stood up tall, took a deep breath and approached the raccoon family's table again. Discomfort lingered heavily in the air, but Trystan had no intention of leaving his post because of a silly little thing like a psychotic ex-boyfriend.

When he approached the table, he first bent down to whisper confidentially into Roger's laid-back ear. "Gay drama. You don't ever want to be a part of what you just saw. Watch yourself, and your friends. Okay?"

"Okay," replied the coon, turning his head in such a way that it was endearing beyond his young years.

"Anyway," said the fox, standing up to take out his order book, pen poised at the ready, "I bet you guys are starving. What can I do for food?"

* * *

Even though the kitchen staff had a good deal more cleaning work than the servers and bartenders, Markus found himself finished much earlier than he would have thought. His position tonight had been only as general background help, mostly prepping food and keeping things stocked for the rest of the staff who were preparing the meals. But every once in a while the wolf would be called upon to drop an order of fries or toast some quesadillas, menial tasks all but a step up from his station in the back of the kitchen near sinks and cardboard boxes.

Since part of food-prep was cleaning as he went along, Markus had little left to do when closing time came. He knew that, as he clocked out shortly before one o'clock, Trystan would most likely still be restocking his station or checking out. The latter turned out to be true, and now he sat patiently on a stool, legs tucked neatly underneath him, waiting for his fox (it felt so good to call him that!) to finish so he could ask him what the hell happened on the floor at dinner.

He hadn't seen much. From his vantage point walking around the back wall, Markus could get nothing more than a general glimpse of action, but when he saw a heated conversation turn into the start of an all-out brawl, during which the fox was struck and fell to the floor, he had immediately wanted to know what had happened. Within minutes, after things had normalized out front, the word was someone had tried to pick a fight with Trystan, an enemy of some sort, or an ex-boyfriend. Something, but nobody could say for sure. Markus had forced it to the back of his mind in order to work more efficiently, but now that the night was over he wanted answers to his concern.

Trystan and Steve had been in the office a long, long time...too long, in Markus' opinion. He could hear voices, and at times they were actually distinguishable as to their owners. Most of the time they were kept subdued and steady, but at certain points one would burst out, nearly screaming, and things would settle down. The lupine knew Steve wasn't the kind of person to ream out an employee for an offense, so he guessed it was Trystan doing the shouting. It was painful to hear those outbursts, because the fox was usually so calm in demeanor. After the incident, when Markus had tried to talk to him, he was ignored; Trystan had a stagnant look on his face that was deadset but disturbed. Something had rattled him deeply, and Markus couldn't wait to get it out of him.

There was rustling behind the heavy office door, followed by the muted scraping of a chair. As soon as the doorknob started turning, Markus was on his feet and trying not to look too eager. First, that snowy floof of a tail curled up and down outside the doorframe, then, progressively, the rest of Trystan came into view as he backed into the open. "Thanks again, Steve," he called cheerfully, "I don't know what I'd do without you." The unseen skunk replied, too soft to hear, and the fox nodded back as the door closed. Markus saw his expression do a complete flop as soon as he turned away and started walking, unaware of the wolf until he practically ran into him. Trystan squeaked and clutched his apron close; he was awfully jumpy.

Markus leaned in and hugged the vulpine before he could do anything else, and after a few seconds given to recover Trystan returned the gesture, albeit with less enthusiasm. "Hi, wuffie. S'good to see you again; they kind of stuck you in the back tonight. Everything okay?"

"With me, yeah, but I should be asking you the same question," replied the wolf after pulling away, his paws still at the fox's elbows. "Everybody knows something happened out on the floor tonight."

"Oh yeah, word travels fast like that. I bet you got some diluted and perverted version of the real thing though. It's best not to listen to gossip." It sure sounded like the same old Trystan, but it felt more like an act put on for the wolf's benefit.

Putting his snout up against the fox's smaller, slender nose, Markus replied, "Then you won't mind me asking you directly. Right?" That got Trystan looking more ashamed than ever, making a concerted effort to avoid eye contact. "I think we both know we need to talk about this, whatever it is."

"I'd really rather not."

Markus' face was an exercise in steel, unmoving and expressionlessly serious.

"But you won't let me off the hook, will you?"

"I care about you too much to just ignore when you need to talk about something. Because I know you won't unless I bother you a lot." A slight smile crept into the wolf's face to match the slow sway of his tail; its infectiousness was mirrored by the fox a moment later.

"Okay. I'll probably feel better once I get it out anyway. But can we do it somewhere other than here?" Trystan backed away, his paws meeting the lupine's and clasping them.

"Anywhere but here. Do you want me to walk you to the subway?" It was a very thin veil which was hiding the wolf's underlying question; what he really wanted was to go home with the fox and just sit and talk. He thought about the ring again, for the umpteenth time that day, but he knew the timing was not the best tonight.

Paw in paw, the two canines exited Maxine's and turned right. The subway station was about six blocks away, but the street was busy and well-lit even at this late hour so there was less of a worry about danger. After a few silent minutes spent in step, it was clear that Trystan was not going to just volunteer the information Markus sought, so the wolf bumped the fox to the side.

"Hey, clumsy. Watch out," Trystan giggled his trademark cute giggle.

"You're not talking to me."

Trystan sighed deeply, looking up into what passed for the night sky downtown. Markus could tell there was considerable tension surrounding the delicate vulpine, in action and in thought. He was just about to relent and say it was none of his business when the fox piped up, "I never really thought he was going to come looking for me. I suppose that was stupid of me, to assume that."

"What do you mean? Who was the guy?" In glancing over to his friend, the wolf noted with some ennui that Trystan's tail had curled considerably between his legs, making him look feeble and worthless...scorned.

The fox's gaze remained straight ahead. "My ex-boyfriend. My only real boyfriend, if you could even call it that. Whenever I look back on it now, I can't see anything but the bad memories, and all the good things seem made-up. That's funny." But it didn't seem funny in the least to Markus, who tightened his grip reassuringly.

"Why was he here?"

"I don't know!" the fox almost shouted in exasperation, shrugging so hard the black vinyl jacket he wore shimmered with reflected streetlamp light. "He said he wanted to show his friends what he'd been missing. I couldn't tell if he was being serious or sarcastic. Bastard was always like that. It's how he got so much control over me. But he should have remembered the protection order. That was just stupid."

Markus was intrigued. This was much more serious than he had thought; relationship drama at its finest and most gritty. He hoped that getting it out of Trystan would help ease his mind a little. The multicolored subway entrance glowed just a couple of blocks away now, close enough so that he could see the letters on the sign. "You had to get a protection order against him? What the hell did he do to you?"

What came out of the fox's muzzle sounded like a laugh, but icily cold around the edges. "Oh, God, what didn't he do to me? Well, he started off by seducing me at a club one night, taking advantage of my subby side and fucking my brains out hour after hour. It was like he would mount me like a little bitch, come, and then we'd have the best cuddle sessions afterwards. He was so gentle despite his size, and that's ultimately what attracted me to him. I was probably weak to begin with, too, so that didn't help."

Trystan was describing a person completely different from the fox Markus knew and loved. Witty, seductive and very confident, Trystan was the dominant one in their relationship, even when the wolf was balls-deep under his tail. He just could not fathom what the fox was telling him, but it was truth nonetheless.

Without waiting for a response, Trystan continued, "I called him the next day and we did it again that night. It amazed me how quick our relationship went from pure sex to the real thing, like lovers. I was infatuated with him. That lasted all of two months. We weren't living together, so we depended on phone calls a lot. Pierce's calls started becoming more erratic, and more often than not they would end on a bad note. I assumed, with dread, that he was seeing someone else, but never let on that I suspected when we were together. When we had a fight one night, I don't remember what it was about, I confronted him with my suspicions and he just...blew up and hit me."

"Oh my God, he hit you?" Markus stopped dead when he heard that. Trystan was looking at the ground, obviously ashamed, still, of what he had let happen. The wolf decided to let his friend finish.

"Right on the snout. You should have seen the blood pouring out of me; it was disgusting. Here, feel," he said, stopping long enough to place one of Markus' paws on his muzzle. Sure enough, right where his fingers fell on the left side, there were two raised ridges of bone...not visible through his white fur, but certainly there. Markus was surprised he had never found them when they made love.

"I'm so sorry...I don't know what else to say."

"Oh, don't feel sorry for me," the fox resumed walking and pulled Markus along with him into the subway station. "That's not the end of it. I'll spare you the details, but we made up after that fight."

The wolf quirked an eyebrow, but what he was really thinking was how anybody could be forgiven after something like that. The two slid their passcards into the turnstile and made their way down to the platform. It was noisy, but not crowded, so neither canine had to speak too loudly. "Pierce paid the whole hospital bill, practically groveling on his knees for me to take him back. I felt like I owed him for that, and it was like old times again...for a week."

"Uh-oh." The poor fox.

Trystan gave a knowing smile. "He started showing me around to his friends, like I was some kind of pet. Said he was so proud of me, his cute little foxy. Proud of what, I don't know. I took it in stride, and I really liked being shown off like a prized possession...as long as I still got respect. Well, after a house party one night, he brought a group of people over to his place, where I was waiting for him. They were high."

That was enough. Markus didn't want to hear anymore, especially with the nonchalant tone in which Trystan was telling him. Being on the edge of so much drama, all the shit the fox was surrounding himself with, took its toll on the wolf's state of mind. He realized he'd opened a Pandora's box, and even though he knew Trystan had survived all of this and become a better person for it, it still felt as if Markus was living it through the little white vulpine's words. Still he listened, the backs of his eyes starting to burn, as the fox finished his history.

After waiting until the train had departed, Trystan continued, holding onto the shiny metal pole next to his friend. "At first I was heartbroken to see Pierce come in like that, a totally different person, with all these little bags of white powder and syringes and things. You know, how could he betray me like that? Why would he go and fuck up his body when he knew how much I loved him? Well, they were all pretty out of it, and Pierce was the first to shove me down. He told the others to hold me while he shot me full of cocaine...three doses of it, since he couldn't get me to snort it. In a nutshell, he and four buddies--nobody who was with him tonight--took turns beating me and raping me."

"Oh, no, Trystan..." Markus' face screwed downward; he clutched onto the pole with weak, trembling muscles. He could see little tears of defiance welling up at the bottoms of the fox's eyes, and they looked like a pair of dewy violets.

"It's fine, it's fine," admonished Trystan with a palm, shaking his head as if to clear it of litter. "Listen to the rest."

"I don't know if I want to hear any more."

"Just listen. They left me after about four hours and went out again, where they were quickly arrested for being under the influence and in possession. Pierce was so far gone that when asked where the blood came from, he just told them everything." The fox let out another ironic giggle then, and the wolf could see he was a little better with things than before he had confided in him. "And I did the police thing, and went to therapy, and got my confidence back, with a little help from the little piece of paper in my wallet. It's a five-year protection order. Pierce can't come within five hundred feet of me, and he's got four years left."

"Does he know that you got it?" asked Markus.

"Yes! He does, and I've made it a point to remind him, even. So why he came here tonight...I just don't know why. It didn't ruin my night, but it sure shook me up. He shouldn't even be in town. The last I heard he had moved halfway across the country."

The wolf shrugged and tilted his head, pensive. "Maybe he's just visiting and felt like harassing you."

The guarded way Trystan now stood told of serious doubt on his part. "Shits and giggles, huh? No; when that rabbit grabs ahold of something he doesn't let go. He knew to leave well enough alone for this long, but he had to have some reason to come back."

Markus was just as confounded as Trystan. The conversation had been decidedly one-sided as they traveled uptown from Maxine's to the midpoint between the restaurant and the fox's loft. Trystan would have to change trains and head west two more stops, whereas Markus would just ride the same train another thirty blocks or so to his building. They had precious little time left until they had to part ways, and the wolf grew more uncomfortable as he realized he didn't know if his friend should be left alone just yet. Chalk it up to his natural protective instincts.

"You don't think he's moved back, do you?" asked the wolf, and the look of raw fear on Trystan's face was disturbing. For the first time, he saw what the fox had been like before: easily manipulated, low self-esteem, a willingness to do anything for the love he craved so much. It was a flicker, really, and then it was gone, hidden behind some quick-moving emotional wall expertly crafted over time. Now the white vulpine was actually smiling.

"Hon, I don't give a shit whether he's back in town or not. The truth of the matter is, if he tries to come near me again, good intentions or bad, I'll get the cops on him so quick it'll make his floppy-eared head spin. One phone call and his parole is through."

A crackle of static and a disembodied, garbled voice signaled the approach of Trystan's switching point. The interior of the cabin was suddenly a mass of moving bodies, gathering at prime positions to make as quick an exit as possible. The fox and wolf stayed put, reluctant to leave the train after such an emotional conversation. Markus had a feeling his friend had told him the meat and potatoes of his problems with Pierce, but he still wasn't letting on how he felt. What was it going to take, other than to just tell him so?

"Trystan, you don't have to put on a face for me, you know? If I didn't care how you felt about all this, I wouldn't be prodding as hard as I am. I don't want to be intrusive, but you can't fool me with a smile and a wink." Trystan maintained his poker face, but the lupine could see he was struggling for it.

"I'm sorry, wuffie," said the fox, and his eyes were sincere. "I feel like I'm taking advantage of you, laying all this crap down and just expecting you to listen, and then not even thanking you for doing so. I really do appreciate it. I don't know how else I'm supposed to make you believe that." Both canines jerked to the side as the subway ground to a halt, and not another word was said as they exited the train with the flood of fur. "What do you want from me?" he asked when the platform was clear, leaning on a pillar, his eyes darting nervously.

I can think of quite a few things I want from you...commitment, the truth, your seed inside me, just to name a few, thought the wolf, fighting yet another urge to pull out the ring and fall to one knee right there in the subway station. Not only would it be inappropriate and unromantic, Markus was less sure about his place in Trystan's life now that he had the chance to prod at the fox's inner workings. "I don't know. Somewhere along the line, I got this crazy idea in my head that we were really close, and if you needed someone to talk to like I did awhile back, I was the best person to listen. Was I wrong in my assumption, or am I just stupid?" It was a bit harsher than he had intended to sound, but Trystan's confidential demeanor was beginning to get to him.

The fox looked hurt for a moment, then miraculously he understood what Markus was getting at. "Honey, is that what you think I'm doing?" He pushed off the pole to embrace the wolf, who melted into his ivory arms, naturally. Fall was just beginning in the city, and the nights had lost the humidity that kept things warm through the wee hours; the platform was cool, and Trystan's heartbeat and warmth through his fur never failed to make Markus feel welcomed, and loved. The vulpine's breath tickled his ear as he spoke: "I grossly underestimated you, Markus. It's a defense mechanism of mine, to just sluff off all the bad things. I usually keep them inside, like all men are supposed to do."

Markus pulled back, skepticism wrinkling his brow. "Not gay men, though. You do know that's bad for you."

"Of course I do; I was just kidding. I don't tell people because I don't want to burden them. But I'm not going to explode one day and kill a bunch of people, if that's what you're thinking."

"No, I'm not."

"If my psychotherapy taught me anything, it's how to deal with emotions. I dealt with it, and I still do. Easy. But I'm still not convincing you, am I?"

"Yeah, it's starting to sink in," replied the wolf. Behind him, an even more garbled tinny voice spat from blown speakers as the train departed for uptown, leaving him stranded for the next twenty minutes or so.

"You missed your ride," said Trystan, nodding in the direction of the now-empty tunnel.

"Another one will be along; you know that."

The fox was not about to be bluffed so easily though, and Markus knew he was transparent as hell right now. The lupine could prod all he wanted, but he lost his ability to hide his true intentions every time.

"I get the feeling you don't want to wait for that train, hon." The wolf's averted gaze answered for him, but he didn't want to push Trystan any further into talking.

"Are you going to be okay? I mean, really okay? I saw you after the fight with Pierce, and you looked positively spooked. You're good at playing strong, and I have no idea what you're feeling right now. I wish you would tell me, but that would be nosy." Markus had begun to fidget with his paws now, wringing his fingers tightly against his shirt.

"Wuffie," the fox admonished, grabbing hold of the wolf's upper arms to hold his eyes and his attention, "by the way you're acting, I don't think anything I could say to you would get you to leave me alone. You're very cute like that, you know. Would you feel better if you stayed the night, just so you could watch over your poor, defenseless little foxy?" The sarcasm was there, but it was warm-hearted.

Needless to say, there was much-welcomed relief at the invitation, and Markus didn't hesitate to cock his head, planting an affectionate baisse on his lover's lips. Trystan tugged surreptitiously at his tongue, but stopped short due to the publicity of their act. "I would very much like to spend the night. It would ease my worries a lot."

"Mine too, actually. There's a silly part of me that expects Pierce to be lying in wait for me when I get home." The fox began walking to the stairs that would lead them to the cross-town platform, leading Markus by the paw as he talked.

"That's not silly; that's realistic and expected. I'd feel the same way. And I would probably want you to stay with me, even though my apartment's a mess."

"You know, you have yet to invite me to your place."

"Ick...I don't even have a floor, it's so bad. Clothes everywhere."

Trystan picked up the pace, walking slightly ahead so his tail brushed Markus' thigh every once and again. The wolf found himself with the beginnings of an erection, a common thing when he was around the sexy vulpine, but concentrated more on keeping up. "I don't mind a messy place. In fact, I could help you clean it up and organize your things. You'd be amazed at what some well-placed shelves and hangers can do."

"I have no doubt about your abilities, but would I be able to keep it clean once you've organized it?"

"I'd make you keep it clean," admonished the fox, looking back over his shoulder with more than a trace of a flirt. "Or I could withhold certain activities from you." It was clear that Trystan's seductive attitude was another defense and excuse to not talk about his feelings, but that could wait until they got to the loft. Markus decided to let the fox off the hook and just enjoy his company.

The cross-town train was a short journey, and during that time the two were mostly quiet, save for a few perfunctory observations about this person's clothing or that person's attitude. During those periods of silence, however, Markus found himself quite uncomfortable for no good reason. He never made eye contact with Trystan, and Trystan always looked away as soon as he stopped speaking. It was beginning to get on his nerves, the escapist way the fox was acting, and Markus vowed to sit him down and pry some answers out of him, hopefully without getting kicked to the curb. The wolf couldn't even believe he had allowed himself to think such a thing of the gentle fox, but when it came to emotions, even the nicest people could turn sour in a matter of seconds.

As they emerged onto the street from underground, Markus shuffled his jacket against the cool air and said, "So, we're not going to have any ferrets or anything, zipping around the place, right?"

Trystan fairly laughed out loud. "Markus, he doesn't live with me. What kind of a slut do you take me for?"

"Oh, that was low, even coming from you," replied the wolf, recovering quickly, "and I take you for a very seductive and affectionate slut. If that means anything to you."

"Wuffie, it means the world to me." Markus could tell Trystan was smiling even before he felt a paw between his ears, scritching, and he had to fight again to control his loins from acting up. Their destination loomed ahead, deceptively foreboding on the outside like most loft buildings in the city. Despite the fact that Trystan's neighborhood was fairly secure, the fox still jangled his keys from a pocket, placing one between his fingers just in case. The other paw drew the wolf closer.

"Do you know how hard to read you are, with all that sarcasm oozing out of your pores with practically every breath you take?"

"Spare me your sentiment and watch for muggers, won't you?" Markus obeyed, and soon they passed into the foyer and started climbing stairs. Another door and another key later, the faint aromas of vanilla and cinnamon welcomed the canines into Trystan's loft. The fox flicked on only two tracks of lights on either side of the large space, enough to illuminate the way back to the bedroom, then flicked them off again.

"Where's that smell coming from?" asked Markus, going into the adjoining bathroom and unzipping his fly over the toilet.

"Um...it's, uh, it's a couple of votives melted in a potpourri pot," came the answer, a little wavery, from the bedroom.

Markus started to let his bladder go and said, louder, "It's nice. Very comforting. I'm surprised I didn't notice it before." There was no response, and since his comment didn't exactly warrant a reply, the wolf finished his business without another word. After shaking off and zipping up, he returned to the bedroom to see what his foxy was up to. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, very still. Very shaky. Very frail.

"Trystan? Is something the matter?" Markus walked over, becoming more and more alarmed as he took in the fox's posture. There was no way this could be some cute little parlor trick; nothing the lupine said could have had such an effect, so he was puzzled more than anything when Trystan looked up at him, tears streaming down his muzzle, opened his mouth to speak and let out only a loud and desperate string of sobs. The fox held his head in his paws and just sat there and cried and cried.

A good five seconds passed before Markus could even take stock of what he was seeing, and feel ashamed for standing by while his best friend and lover completely broke down in front of him. Trystan took in great breaths through splayed fingers only to let it all out again, a horrible anguished whimper. The entirety of his waifish body trembled except for his tail, which lay unmoving and flaccid on the bed behind him. Not knowing what else to do, the wolf sat next to Trystan, testingly laying his paws on the vulpine's shaking shoulders.

Trystan responded instantly at the touch by removing his paws and twisting, burying himself in the wolf's chest without giving him the benefit of a look at his wrecked face. The sobs continued, albeit more softly but just as strongly. Now, more than ever, Markus wanted--no, needed--to know what had gotten so deep under the fox's skin to make him react this way. For now, however, he settled for murmuring "It's okay" every now and again, stroking Trystan's velvety, flattened ears and the scruff of his neck. He hoped the gentle touch would have a calming effect.

It did, and it seemed to work like magic at reducing the fox's outburst to intermittent wet sniffles. At last, he steadied his arms, clutching at Markus' own and pushed up and away, revealing a matted, sticky, puffy and bloodshot face to the wolf. "I...I bessed yer shirt ub agaid," he muttered through gobs of runny mucus, and ran a forearm unapologetically over his muzzle. After a few more preening gestures, he actually looked Markus in the eye.

"It'll come out." Trystan nodded, drawing the rest of his sinuses into his throat with one great snort. The contrast to the fox's normally proper demeanor made Markus have to stifle a giggle, but only for a fleeting moment. After a fit of wet coughing, he was ready to speak.

"I'm sorry; it just kinda boiled up on me so quickly. I wasn't prepared for it."

"What happened?"

"Remember I told you I bottle up all my emotions inside like a good boy? Well, the cork just popped. Recalling my relationship with that fucking rabbit finally--finally got to me." The hypocritical smile that accompanied his words did little to ease Markus. "I'm a weak person. Really, truly, when you dig deep enough I'm a pussy whelp."

"No, you're not," countered the wolf, shuffling closer to place a firm paw on the vulpine's slouched spine. "But his showing up scared you."

Then Trystan's red and purple eyes, hazy but still gleaming, turned upwards before he closed them, spilling fresh thick tears down his face. His body tensed once again, fighting off a new volley of sobs, and he looked as if he had sunk into a trance. "Oh, wuffie, it scared the shit out of me. To think you're over someone's total domination of you, and to have those same feelings just come back at you like that...I was fine until Steve kicked him and his cronies out, but after that I frazzled totally."

"Yeah, I saw."

"He...did a lot of bad things to me, Markus," the fox continued, arms crossed over his chest as if to keep out an unseen cold gust of air. "He beat and raped me. He got me addicted to cigarettes, alcohol and drugs. It took a lot more than twelve steps to get off all that shit, too. After the TPO was issued, I left his stuff on the curb as free game. Had to change my phone number; he kept wanting to patch things up. I was too busy getting clean for him or anybody else. Went through boyfriends like crazy, rebound after rebound. I guess I couldn't exactly call them boyfriends if I only fucked them once or twice, can I?"

There it was, the first strands of jealousy starting to creep into the back of Markus' thinking. How selfish was it for him to think of Trystan's past relationships like they posed a threat? Pierce certainly wasn't in the picture, and a few pity-fucks had nothing to do with real love. They had made love on many occasions, too many to be considered just a passing satisfaction for lust, so there was little doubt in the wolf's mind that a connection existed between them. After all, the little fox was confiding his deepest fears to him, right? Actually, the low-level jealousy made him feel more mature, like a boyfriend should.

"No, not really," he said simply, which was followed by a heavy sigh.

"What's the matter, hon?" Now it was Trystan's turn to look concerned; it was far more natural on his face than distress.

Markus stroked along the fox's outer right thigh, thinking before he spoke. "I'm sorry all this had to happen to you. Some sort of survivor's guilt, but not, you know? Like I struggle to make ends meet every month, and stress about bills, and bitch and whine to you sometimes...and then you tell me all these horrible things, and I can't relate to any of it. And my troubles pale in comparison. Makes me feel bad for having a nice life."

"I didn't bear my soul to you just so you could feel bad too," comforted the white fox, placing his paw atop the wolf's and moving it in time. "I would like nothing more than for you to be happy with your nice life, instead of wasting time and energy loathing it for no good reason. Just wait; in time you'll have your share of bad memories to be proud of."

"Just like you?"

"Yeah. Just like me," replied Trystan, a wave of clarity having washed over his features. If anything could be said about the fox's character, it was that he had the distinct ability to bounce back from any funk, even a funk as deep as an insane stalker ex-boyfriend. Except now was different from other times Markus had seen, when he had pulled a veil over his emotions and played a poker face. Now it was just a plain happy fox, fully confessed and (hopefully) cried out for the evening.

"Knowing this city, that shouldn't take long," said the wolf, and he noticed that Trystan's tail was rhythmically tapping the bedspread...and his own was keeping time.

"Stop that negative thinking. I'd hate to think all this discussion was rubbing off on you," said the fox, and the canines' eyes met before falling to their paws, which were indeed rubbing off on the fox's thigh. Trystan took his away, blushing behind a shy grin. Trystan was never shy about anything. But he made up for it by cupping Markus' chin and kissing him full on the lips, giving just enough tongue to make it friendly but not all-out erotic.

"Thanks for everything, wuffie. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Oh, Trystan," Markus began, and shoved the fox onto his back, quickly sealing his muzzle over the vulpine's slender snout. This time there was no holding back, as the wolf felt, really felt for the first time, that his love was returned in kind. He put everything rational on the back burner and gave into his feelings, all the things he had felt during this night of dramatic purging. Fairly crawling atop Trystan, and twisting his body to do so, he never let their embrace break, never withdrew his furiously roving tongue. If the fox was loathe to return the kiss, it never showed in the tenacity of his reaction, just as strong as the wolf's had been.

Trystan's mouth was excessively salty due to his crying, but it only served to ignite his hunger for the fox even more. It was out of pure happiness and relief that he had acted so aggressively, and never did the thought that the night could go any other direction occur to him until a small, deft paw pressing upwards between his straddled legs informed him that he had become painfully erect. He broke the kiss to raise his head and gasp loudly, more out of surprise than anything else. The paw paused, then resumed its methodical stroking, using the motion to draw his fly down and relieve some pressure.

When the wolf looked back down, Trystan had a want in his eyes that went beyond simple sex. This time it was not accompanied by a flirtatious comment or silly euphemism. It was not merely alluded to as something he liked to do; a hedonistic thing. There was no seduction, no games and no words at all. The fox wanted something, and he wanted his wolf to give it to him. His eyes practically begged for it, and he looked almost frail in that moment of begging. It was the most arousing thing Markus had ever seen.

"Please," the fox repeated for his paw, which now had undone his button and was now fishing his member out of his boxers. The wolf grunted and humped readily against the contact. He wanted to make Trystan forget tonight ever happened, and although that possibility didn't stand much of a chance, he could at least make the fox forget temporarily.

"Okay," he replied, lightly kissing the fox's forehead before going to work on his clothing. Trystan touched him all over as he was undressed, silent and tactilely imploring the whole time. Not a bit of attention was paid to the foxcock already half-exposed as his shorts were removed; Markus made short work of his own garments and soon was astride the sleek vulpine's recumbent form, grinding downward into that ever-insistent paw.

Leathery pads were warm and soft and oh so smooth on his member as it emerged and grew, knot and all, into full erection. Normally it would have been selfish of him to not reciprocate in some manner, but Markus sensed this was not about a mutual act and, in taking all the pleasure for himself, he was actually doing what Trystan wanted of him.

The fox milked the lupine shaft from base to tip, delving between his legs for a moment to smear the slippery fluid on his hole before returning for more. Markus obliged by thrusting doglike through his lover's fingers to encourage thorough lubrication. Sharp teeth tugged and nipped at Trystan's neck and shoulders, gaining some encouraging yips of pleasure. But when the fox tried to move this or that part of Markus' body, the wolf responded with a low growl, signaling both his temporary dominance and assuring Trystan his sexual fate was sealed.

Minutes passed, each one seeming to melt into the next as arousal has a knack to do. The canines kissed again deeply, communicating their separate needs without so much as a word. Markus was a horny wolf, that was true, and he knew he would enjoy this, but his large erection was enhanced by the knowledge that Trystan needed this much deeper, in another way, and he would be more than happy to give him what he wanted. He was feeling more like a boyfriend every moment they embraced, whiskers twitching at the touch of a muzzle, gasps drawn by licks of a flexible tongue, and that delicate, lovely paw on his cock...squeezing and stroking, never leaving his flesh.

Tired of just making his wuffie pant and groan in anticipation, Trystan gripped Markus behind his substantial knot, in the small space between the bulb and the scrunched and retracted sheath. He squeezed a ring with his thumb and forefinger, jerking in short fast strokes. The sound that came from the wolf's muzzle would have been mistaken for pain, were it not for the copious shots of precum that coated Trystan's puckered hole; the fox pushed the majority inside himself quickly to save the precious fluid, and his sheets.

Humping involuntarily now, Markus whimpered once and caught himself. Yes, he wanted to fuck Trystan, wanted to fuck his little foxy brains to kingdom come, but if he played the desperate puppy he would never allow himself to disobey his natural reservations when it came to true all-out intercourse. Another whimper surfaced, but he squelched it by pushing the fox's attentive paws away and shoving his nose underneath that ivory-furred tail.

Suddenly everything was ten times clearer; Markus could smell everything that was them: That hot little ring was covered in his own strong musk, and it was the only thing he could taste when his tongue rasped across the orifice, gaining a rather loud cry of his name from Trystan. This first lick he cupped his tongue to pool the pre and dam it into the fox's hole, then just settled for bathing the entire area with saliva. The fox's sweetish odor filled his nostrils and was strongest in the off-white fur that spread over his inner thighs, and it smelled of heat, testosterone and sweat. It only spurred the wolf on to sniff around everywhere else, probing his cold black snout into Trystan's perineum and under his taut little balls, and the vulpine shrieked and squirmed but did not move away.

Markus could feel Trystan's tail pounding up against his chest, its tip doing miracles on his wolfhood as he tonguefucked his lover, the fox's lithe feet gripping just below his armpits, rising to give better access. Even deeper inside was an altogether different flavor; nothing like what he thought it would be and surprisingly light on the palate. After the first few licks the little tailhole was virtually spotless, and stretching easily around him. The fox was ready, but neither of them would last very long. Markus didn't think that would be a problem this night.

The wolf climbed atop Trystan, whose legs wrapped up and over his shoulders just right. On his knees now, he milked a paw over his shaft, coming back with enough clear fluid to cover his cock quite well. The soft squelching of his strokes was the only sound in the room as he asked approval from his fox, who was trembling from the rimming he'd received. An almost imperceptible nod later, Markus jockeyed for position under Trystan's tail, keeping his seeping tip just outside the fox's body.

Bearing down little by little, the lupine inched his head inside, watching the fox's face for any sign of discomfort even though Trystan had never complained about any pain, and had in fact mentioned he'd taken bigger cocks than his. There was a pained expression souring his features, but Markus soon found out it was impatience when he was pushed further in by the fox's legs on his back. He obliged, sinking over half his member in Trystan's insides. The fox never stopped encouraging him, and he obliged little by little until there was nothing left to give, save for his knot. He didn't dare go that far just yet; the fox's tightness was almost uncomfortable.

Trystan felt around his nether region, grasping the massive swelling protruding from his tailhole, and uttered a sigh of contented pleasure. The sigh turned to a groan when Markus pulled out slowly, about halfway, and reentered, now much easier. It developed into a steady rocking motion, with Trystan staying relatively still while Markus had his way and increased his pace. It was almost an afterthought when the fox reached for his own cock, unsheathed it and began masturbating to Markus' thrusts. Usually slow to begin, he now moved with desperate speed, using the wolf's massaging of his prostate to get off as quickly and intensely as possible. Markus leaned back and worked himself in farther for a better view.

It was always such entertainment watching Trystan work himself up to a load; one good thing about him, and one big way the two canines differed, was that the fox was very vocal when he was feeling pleasure, and the closer he got to orgasm the more feral his sounds became. Whereas when they had first started having sex, Trystan was more of a vulgar talker; now the fox just growled and yipped and moaned louder and in a higher pitch the closer he came, reacting strongly when Markus did the same. But this time, the little vulpine seemed to be doing quite well on his own.

This time it was just too good to pass up. Seeing the raw craving displayed in Trystan's pumping paw and thrashing head was doing a fine job of giving the wolf a good reason to keep his eyes open and just watch, rather than fantasize with just the feeling. He didn't feel silly, for once, like he sometimes did when shoving himself repeatedly into the fox's ass; now he could see just how every withdrawal and thrust made the vulpine moan obscenely up at him. The wolf struggled to work himself deeper, feeling Trystan's ring reluctantly giving ground to his knot.

Trystan was working through the final stages, using his right paw on his swollen member and his left to cup his balls and tug down, pinning them to his body and allowing clawless fingertips to just brush over Markus' invasive knot as it spread him open around its enviable girth. His eyes shot open: "Wuffie, oh my God I'm coming!" and his paw flew like mad.

Markus took the few remaining precious seconds to dig into the bed, legs straining as he put as much pressure as possible on the fox's prostate to draw out the climax. And indeed it did: Amid deep gasps and falsetto squeaks of bliss, the fox angled his cock up just in time to send a volley of semen over his head and onto the silk sheets above him. Two more covered his neck before the rest dribbled out thickly over the vulpine's slowing paw. Then, without even pausing for a rest, he braced himself as best he could on the silk and looked at Markus intently.

"Do it. Fuck me, Markus. Tie with me like a good dog." There it was again, the same old dirty-in-bed fox he knew and loved. Trystan grabbed the wolf's arms, encouraging him to let his apprehension fade away, not even minding the sticky trail left near his elbow. The little fox was still hard, and still leaking a fair bit. The words and utter abandon Trystan showed only served to make Markus hotter, his thrusts more erratic, as heat began to rise, palpable, in the room. A wolf was about to claim his prize.

His knees protesting, Markus dropped to all fours again, and found a deeper angle into his fox. This was it; Trystan kept clenching those deliciously silky walls of his and climax seemed easily attainable. Now the fox was recovered and back into the action, practically slamming his ass down onto the wolfcock, watching the lupine for any sign of impending release. Markus thrust hard, staying hilted a little longer each time he went in, letting his knot get a little deeper. And just like that, the fox finally gave way and sucked the remaining four inches of the wolf into his tight little body, sealing the act, making it whole.

Things were much too sensitive now for Markus to stand, so he had to settle for short little jerky thrusts to get off, as if there were any turning back now. The solid lump that was Trystan's prostate glided over the top of his shaft, the vulpine responding in kind to the massage. "Oooh, that's it, Markus...feels so good, fuck! I love you so much..."

With a roar and tears of happiness, Markus kept perfectly still as he forced the cum from his body, marking the fox's words with similar actions. He finally said it! he thought. This is the start of something, I just know it! Now we can be real boyfriends. All this was going through his head as his climax died slowly, several spurts of wolfseed coating Trystan's abused tailhole, with a little leaking out due to the wolf's sheer size when knotted. When his cock finally stopped twitching, he leaned to one side, falling and taking the fox with him.

Whimpering, almost crying, he hugged the little white vulpine close, taking in the scent of his chest, different than his crotch but with similar undertones. When he thought he had recovered enough to disengage his arms, he cradled Trystan's head in his paw, stroking the delicate white fur with the other. Those beautiful violet eyes still captivated him just as much as the first time he'd ever seen them. Now they were all his. And then the tears came.

"Hon? Honey, what's wrong?" Concern wrinkled Trystan's forehead as they lay tied on the bed.

"Nothing's wrong. Nothing's wrong at all. I mean...everything's perfect. You're perfect."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far."

"I would. I love you so much, Trystan. Everything has changed now. You're mine, and I love you right back. Jeez, I sound like a soap opera," the wolf said, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, you do. Where do you come up with this stuff?"

"I have a very productive muse." With that, the wolf planted another affectionate lick on Trystan's muzzle before succumbing to a monster of a yawn. Trystan repeated it a moment later.

"Damn you, I want to go to sleep. How are we supposed to do that with you all tied with me?" asked the fox, but the wolf had already drifted off, dreaming of the perfect way to reveal the commitment ring, a dozen different scenarios already playing in his mind. None of them, however, seemed good enough for such a completely perfect, caring and dedicated person as his foxy. There were no words.

* * *

Very few places existed downtown where one could go to have an exciting, original experience. If one had means and friends, and it was best to have both, all the restaurants and clubs and VIP rooms in the world meant nothing unless they provided a decidedly interesting distraction from the real world. You eat dinner...you dance...you drink yourself into a stupor...and then you wake up the next day, basking in your own self-importance and do it all again.

Maxine's was located in a decent part of town, but just ten blocks south was the truly opulent Libre District, infamously named for the diplomatic immunity-like freedoms afforded those who could visit the place and take advantage of its offerings. Zoned as a combination residential and commercial district, the Libre community consisted of only loft condominiums, buyouts all, above glimmering rows of storefronts, carefully restricted in design and operated under invitation-only leases. If the commissioners didn't invite you to take up square footage in Libre, you were shit out of luck.

Nestled on a corner across from the "town square," which included a giant music-controlled fountain, Tips 'N Tails held its purpose well from the outside world. Generally, it was known as a fancy-schmancy restaurant, with dinners rumored to be about $175 per person, on average. To most people, and even the majority of citygoers, this would seem an exorbitant sum to pay just for a meal, but those who had been inside recommended it to as many people as they could tell. Because at Tips 'N Tails, dinner wasn't the only thing on the menu.

With every entrée, guests would receive a corresponding staff member...although every person on staff wasn't required to have a member...to use as he or she wished during the course of the meal. The servers and bussers were more than happy to please their clients every way they could, and while there was no such thing as an included gratuity, tips far exceeded the fifteen percent expected. There were no back rooms, so many guests found themselves indulging their "main courses" right at the table, in plain view of the rest of the restaurant. Then again, those who frequented Tips 'N Tails knew what to expect and had no qualms about a little lost privacy.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon, and Eric, the lone bartender until six-thirty on this weeknight, was polishing snifters behind the thick black marble and glass of the bar. He had the Food Network on the three televisions at various corners, and was listening to a history of Beef Wellington with halfhearted interest while he waited for the first few patrons to straggle in after work to have a drink, and to drink in the hired help.

The polar bear was true to his species: tall, large all around and possessed of a decent belly that drew in a surprising number of people. It never failed to amaze him the looks he got while mixing Colorado Bulldogs or the occasional Purple Hooter; he figured it was the disbelief that such a gruff and non-lisping guy could ever be gay, but he accepted the attention like he was paid to do. And, of course, he liked it all. As an employee of such an exclusively-themed restaurant, he, too, was required to respond to requests within the realm of practicality. The bear glanced under one of two cash registers, saw the pile of condoms and the lube right behind them, and nodded to himself. Weeknights usually saw a good number of pawjobs and mutual groping, a few blowjobs behind the bar if it wasn't too busy (he would accept more offers if he was the one getting blown, as this kept him free to mix drinks), and at most two fucks. Weekends brought the number of barkeeps to five, because any one time could find two of them on the floor or otherwise occupied with a cock in their tailholes or vice-versa.

All in all, it was a very nice job. Not a career, but until Eric could find another way to make twenty-five dollars per hour, it would suffice just fine.

He was just about to switch to pilsners when a flicker near the host stand caught his eye. Reservations for dinner didn't start until five o'clock (and the restaurant was reserved all night, every night), but the bar was open seating. Eric looked up without pausing his cloth, and scrutinized the silhouette walking slowly into the relative darkness of the restaurant proper. A bit top-heavy, no swishing tail, tall ears bent slightly at the middle...definitely a rabbit of some sort.

The bear's eyes adjusted as the shadow moved closer and blocked the rest of the sunlight, and the rabbit's light chocolate fur came into focus. His body was compact and powerful, but his attitude (at least what Eric could tell) was trepidatious, even afraid. Beady, dark eyes moved to and fro to match his wringing paws; his clothes were well below the dress code required for dinner traffic, so he could only assume the rabbit was here for something other than food. A small ball of disappointment popped inside him; it wouldn't break his night, but he'd rather be serving alcohol than merely talking up some free conversation with a nonpaying stranger.

As he kept polishing, Eric never took his eyes off the newcomer as he shuffled up to the sweeping bar and had a seat, looking around furtively before he sat as if he would be criticized for making a mistake. A real winner here, this one, thought the polar bear idly, but smiled toothily nonetheless.

"Take a double Grand Marnier on the rocks, with salt and lime please." The rabbit's face had turned utterly sober for the two seconds it had taken to speak his order, after which the fear returned almost immediately. Truth be told, Eric was surprised and taken back by the smooth request--that was a fourteen-dollar drink there--but he began to put things together with trained paws.

"Now, I can't very well serve something as fine as Grand Marnier to someone whose name I have yet to know," said the bear, reaching for the trademark wax-sealed bottle. Actually, he was half-expecting the rabbit to refuse; instead, he stood and offered a paw to shake. Eric took it and obliged, the grip strong and solid as his own.

"Pierce. You?"

"Eric. Nice to meet you," the bartender threw in a cursory once-over for the lapine's benefit. It was noticed and returned, much to his increased interest. It was a bit early to be getting "busy," but business was business. "What has you all alone, in a place like this, with such a dilly of a drink before sundown, eh?"

Pierce eyed him, smiling insincerely. "You make it your business to pry into the personal affairs of everyone who sits at your bar?"

"To be quite honest," Eric found himself backpedaling, "if I were in your place I'd be grateful for the conversation. Then again, there are those who prefer to sit quietly in their cups. Please pardon me if the latter is true."

"You're well-spoken. I like that," said the rabbit, evidently shrugging off his previous air of hesitancy. "I didn't mean to come off as rude or ungrateful, and I apologize if I accomplished either. Actually, I'm here for more than the drink."

Oh, so that's how it was. How unromantic of Pierce to just come out and state his purpose with no preamble, no flirting...well, not everyone was Mr. Savoir-Faire, after all. Eric rolled the rocks glass in water, then salt, and sat a split lime wedge on the rim, lifting the bottle of Grand Marnier high, counting to four to measure the double shot over ice. "Of all the joints in all the towns, etcetera..." The bear pushed the drink to Pierce's end of the bar, bending at the waist to follow the glass's travel until he was eye-level with the rabbit. He studied the brown eyes purposefully, and saw the hidden arousal he was looking for. There was the game. "What can I do to make that shot taste better, hmm?"

"I need information," replied the rabbit, who lifted the glass and downed the drink in one gulp, not even grimacing at its still-tepid temperature and strength. The lime and most of the salt were left untouched. What a waste.

Eric's smile dropped in disappointment then, followed by cautious skepticism at the straightforwardness of Pierce's speech. Whether the bear complied was completely dependent upon what the rabbit needed, and since it wasn't just sex he was after the bartender still refused the right to serve anyone for any reason. "Depends on what the question is, dude," he said, crossing his broad white arms over his vest. "Ask away."

"I hope it's nothing too secret," said Pierce, adopting an honest and innocent tone. "I'm just trying to track someone down I haven't seen in, like, forever. I was told he works here, and I hope I'm not too late. Trystan?"

Now, employee records weren't a matter of strict secrecy, and anyone who dined at Tips 'N Tails could track down their favorite server fairly easily, but it was generally frowned upon to divulge matters of employment to complete strangers, no matter the reason. And since the bear was the only person here besides the managers, it was his call to make.

"Hmm..." Eric tapped at his closely-cropped forehead with a thick black claw, purposefully rolling his eyes. It was probably something he shouldn't have done; with an intentional gesture like that there was no doubt he knew what Pierce was talking about. But his seductive nature, plus the added weight of making as much money as possible while clocked in, combined to make him more playful than he should have let on. Like the lapine wouldn't have found out eventually, anyway. Hell, if he came in tomorrow during dinner he could actually watch the sexy fox at work, swaying through the tables and generally getting his slender black cock stroked by any number of rich-bitch paws.

Pierce leaned over the bar, the sparkle of common knowledge a bright speck in his eyes, and rested his chin on his wrists. His head bobbled up and down as he spoke: "I already know he works here, so that wasn't my question. Do you know where he lives, at all? I've just arrived in town and he agreed to shack me up until I can find a job somewhere, but I crumpled the damn thing and must have thrown it away on the plane. Silly me."

"You and half the people who work here," said the ivory ursine, meeting Pierce muzzle-to muzzle over the countertop. He took a chance, a big chance actually, when he ventured a light skritch underneath the rabbit's chin, hopefully enticing him to order another drink. Alas, he just kept smiling, seeming to lean in a bit more.

"So he's just as popular as he was in high school, huh? Sounds like the same old Trystan, always getting trouble and attention at the same time," the rabbit said as he began rubbing his whiskers over the side of the bear's muzzle, combing it gently. Eric rumbled before he knew he was getting excited.

"High school friends, huh?" replied the bartender, giving the snug pink nose a light peck while undoing his apron and pants, letting his cock spring free between bottles of Apple Pucker and grenadine. He could not believe how turned on he was getting just from the minor foreplay, but between visualizing Trystan's raised tail, feeling Pierce's soft fur on his own, and beginning a quick jackoff under the bar, it would indeed be a hard time trying to quell the erection he'd already sprung before the dinner rush. This was an opportunity to pop a load quick, so he would have more time with more important customers later on in the night.

"Oh yeah, all four years. We did the whole coming-out thing together, in some group therapy thing, and he's kind of been my contact ever since. Now, since I'm in this huge city, I need him more than ever." The rabbit took Eric by the ears, running thumbpads through their sensitive inner fuzz, never missing a beat when the bear shuddered violently, pawing noticeably now, and harder still.

"You...you planning on hookin' up...too? Cuz' he's like a rolling stone, or...so I've heard," panted Eric, laying his ponderous head on the bar after checking for liquids. The one melting point on his entire body, and the rabbit nails it outright. It wasn't fair! Neither was life, and the bear's balls were trying desperately to tell him that.

If Pierce didn't know exactly how pinholed he had the bartender by now, then Eric's almost total submission to him over the barrier of the bar got the point across quite clearly. For all he knew, the rabbit could have a gun aimed squarely at the back of his neck and there was little he could do to move, or even speak clearly. "Well," came the voice with traces of a smile in the words, "I've considered that, really...but I think I could gain more from fucking him than actually starting a relationship. If you know what I mean."

Eric knew the sentiment exactly. Especially with someone like Trystan, who was prone to raise his tail more often than most, without a second thought. The little white fox had even given Eric some playtime every once and again, when he needed some extra free drinks for a table that might shape up to be a pretty decent tip. And to Eric, it was totally worth it to spill a little extra alcohol if it meant a trip up his hot, tight hole. That was Trystan, the constant virgin.

"Good luck on that," chuffed the bear, hedonistically enjoying himself among the spirits as Pierce's ever-persistent soft fingers tweaked the thin skin beneath the clear fur of his rounded ears. "He's been...harder than ever to get since he...he's been dragging that wolf around behind him." Eric almost fell inward at the sudden drop in pleasure as Pierce withdrew his paw and became unsettlingly silent. He never stopped stroking, though.

The rabbit gathered his aplomb quickly, saying, "I'm sorry; last I heard he was single." The ear-teasing resumed, and Eric redirected his concentration once again to his groin.

"Oh, he may still be single, but that wolf's his number-one squeeze. Follows him everywhere, from what he's told me. Never seen him though, but his name was...shit, now...Markus! That's right, it was Markus...ohh, please don't stop dude, that's great." Pierce now had him by both ears, in different directions, undoubtedly showing his intent in his actions. If that's all the lapine had wanted in the first place, he certainly didn't have to get the bear off to prove he was worthy of the information he sought. But at this point, Eric saw no need to point that little fact out, not when he was so damn close he could practically smell the pre-spunk that was leaking from him now. He wanted to believe part of his supplication was a ploy to get on the customer's good side as he was naturally inclined to do, but he also may have just wanted to get off and do anything to achieve that end.

"It sounds like he's grown quite fond of this wolf. I should see if I can meet him and see if that fox's finally come to his senses and gotten a decent boyfriend. How close are you, Eric?" At the familiar use of his name, the burly bartender gasped as a distant memory of a pedophilic camp counselor from his childhood surfaced and died just as quickly, but enough to send him to the final rung of the orgasmic ladder up which he was feverishly climbing.

"C-close enough." That seemed to satisfy Pierce, who bent to barlevel, snout to snout with the bear, still with ears in fingers, and tilted his head for a nice, slow, deep kiss. Eric moaned into the act, covering the last remaining thresholds before changing his grip to power through. As blissful as the release was, accompanied by the audible metallic clangs of semen splattering stainless steel, the bear rode it out in relative silence, opting only to seal his rubbery lips around the lapine's and return the kiss without biting a hole through one or both cheeks.

After giving the bartender a good minute to recover, Pierce stood back up, looking none the worse for wear and not winded in the least. Eric, however, was more flustered than he would have cared to admit, and he actually staggered back against the beer cooler, flagging erection fully visible to the rabbit's approving stare. The only thing he did in response was to nod once, give the bear an insincere smile and say, "You're welcome," as he strode out of the restaurant proper and into the afternoon.

"Thank you?" replied the bear, satisfied but very much in the dark about who should be thanking whom and for what said thanking should be. But there were glasses to be polished, a dinner crowd to be pleased, and a fresh puddle on his otherwise spotless bar that needed some quick attention before a manager happened to see it. He collected himself, already properly bolstered for the night crowd, and after picking up a fresh towel from the nearest red Sani-Bucket, went to search for the industrial-strength surface cleaner.

* * *

One of the most irksome things in the world is to have a visitor late at night, especially if you can't tell whether the knocking on the door is part of the wonderful dream you're having, or just something...ugh...real. Markus wanted it to be a dream, wanted to believe it was all in his head, but he seriously doubted there were any doors on such a white sandy beach at sunset, where he was currently giving his hypothetical virginity to the fox he adored.

The knocking went on for a minute or so before it actually started to tear the fabric of his fantasy, and with a tired growl he swung himself out of bed and waded groggily (only he knew the safest path through the sea of shit on the floor) to the peephole. He squinted through the opening, seeing next to nothing as the hallway was poorly lit, and his visitor was no more than a silhouette with large ears. It wasn't Trystan, as he'd mildly hoped; both canines had had a rough night at work with an understaffed kitchen, and sleep would be a welcome friend at two o'clock in the morning.

"Markus?" the visitor shouted as much as he could without disturbing the neighbors. "Could you please open the door? I need to talk to you about something."

Eyeing the shadow through the peephole suspiciously, the lupine called back, "Do I know you?" Everything about this told his instincts something smelled to high heaven, and his hackles raised in trepidatious fear.

"You may," replied the long-eared intruder. "I'm a friend of Trystan's. Can I please come in? It's about him."

Markus opened the door to the end of the security chain and poked his snout through the crack. Smelled like a mammal, but other than that there was the fresh smell of rain, and that had washed away most of the scent. Still wary, but more concerned for his lover than anything else, the wolf drew the chain back and revealed himself to the visitor, wearing only a pair of tight black boxer-briefs but not really caring at this early hour.

The rabbit standing soaked before him, thought he was built fairly large, had a forlorn and drained look about him. His leather jacket was dripping freely onto the hallway carpet and his jeans, soaking them from the thigh on down. Droplets of rainwater hung suspended from a few long whiskers, and his chocolate-brown fur was almost black, dirty and knotted. Markus was still on guard, but he failed to stifle a yawn before asking, "What's all this about? What about Trystan? Is he okay?" Realizing his lack of hospitality (or maybe embarrassment at someone else seeing his wreck of a pad), the wolf reclosed the door, undid the chain and opened up again, beckoning the lapine inside.

"I assume he's okay. I mean, I haven't seen him, so I don't know. I hope so." Once inside the studio the rabbit had lowered his voice almost to the point of whispering. He stepped into the room, leaned against a nearby countertop and stayed there, eyes darting fearfully, worriedly. Markus' concern grew even greater, seeing those furtive glances, those wringing paws, that trembling head.

"If you don't know, then what did you want to talk about?"

"Markus, right? That's your name, isn't it?"

Markus furrowed his brow, watching the lapine with narrow eyes. He spoke evenly and clearly. "How do you know who I am?" Ideas were forming in his mind now, and one of them he did not like in the least. He was prepared for it, however.

"I need you to talk to him for me, Markus. I can't even come close to him, and I've done a terrible thing. I was a total jackass and I want him to know I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

"Oh, fuck no. Get out," Markus snarled, recognizing Trystan's ex and confirming his worst fear. He had no idea how the lapine had come to know about him, or track him down, but his short visit was over.

"Wait! Please..."

"You know what? No, okay? I heard a lot of things about you, all of which I didn't like. I saw what just talking about you did to Trystan, and it broke my heart. I will not have a discussion with you about anything, because I'd rather not waste my life or my sleep on shit like you. If you want to stick around, I have a baseball bat I haven't used in awhile." Markus found himself smiling inwardly as he berated Pierce who, rather than trying to counter the wolf's scathing words, appeared just to cower further against the counter, paws behind his back, wincing.

"Look, I'm not here to defend myself, okay? I want to apologize, and I don't even know it'll do any good, but I came here anyway. Yeah, I'm a piece of shit, is that what you want to hear?" The wolf couldn't hold back just the slightest indication of surprise at the rabbit's confessions, but that didn't seem to slow Pierce down. Now the wavering, brink-of-tears words had turned softer, self-loathing. "Do you know how many times I had to stick my arm before I found a vein, just so I could calm down enough to come over here? Three, Markus. Okay? You think I'm psycho now, but you should see me when I'm sober. I didn't trust myself to come here without some sedation.

"I'm not asking forgiveness, because I don't deserve any, and I'm not asking for anybody to like me, because I don't deserve that either. But if you could just tell him I'm sorry for everything...I mean, what happened in the restaurant, and how I treated him when we were together. No matter how many times I say it, it's no good, but if it comes from you...maybe it'll make a difference."

On the inside, Markus was flabbergasted. Though his guard was still up (as were his hackles), he found the lapine's cowering confession easy to listen to. As little as the wolf knew about Pierce and his attitudes, there was no way he could tell for sure if all of it was true. But by the way he was acting, by that fact alone, Markus could see no ulterior motive to Pierce's request to relay the apologies to Trystan when next they met, which would be tomorrow night. Markus had set the date as a standard dinner-and-playtime setup, but he planned to give the fox much more than play tomorrow. All this drama with Pierce had been the catalyst to setting his mind on commitment...that, and a whole lot of soul-searching. The wolf almost wanted to thank Pierce for having an effect on his relationship...but any softening on his part now would be foolish.

Markus steeled his features. "As much as I...dislike you, and your history with Trystan," he said, "I can see you're trying very hard to repair things. I respect that, if you're being candid with me." Pierce started a smile, but the wolf amended, "That's the only thing I respect," and the rabbit lowered his eyes and ears. "You've had your say, but it's two-thirty in the morning, and I think you should go."

Pierce nodded too emphatically, saying thanks again in an even quieter voice. Holding the door for him, Markus ushered the lapine halfway out the door, but not before both males heard the sound of keys falling to the floor. "Oh shit, I'm sorry," bumbled Pierce as he frantically turned around in the half-closed doorway, fumbled around for the keychain and handed it to the lupine. "Sorry," he said again, even as the door closed and locked behind him.

It wasn't but a second later there came another knock, and Markus stomped back and jerked it open the three inches again. "What?"

This time, there was an entirely different expression in the rabbit's eyes, a twinkling edge there that either had been concealed before or hadn't been there at all. He didn't waste any time in saying, inches from the wolf's face, "You know he doesn't love you."

"What are you talking about?" Markus felt fury and adrenaline boiling up inside of him. This was crossing the line. "Where do you get off butting into my relationship?"

"What relationship? You're not the only one. You don't know that?"

Markus tried hard to conceal a snarl, "I know he's not fucking you. None of this is your business."

"I know, but I just thought I'd save you the heartbreak before you get hurt. Trystan's a cheater, a liar, and most of all...a fox."

The roar of blood in his ears drowned out all but the rabbit's scandalous words. How dare he try and sabotage their love! If this was his juvenile attempt at a scare tactic, all it was doing was infuriating the wolf beyond anything he'd felt before. Trystan didn't deserve to be slandered like this. "Fuck you. Get out before I call the police."

Pierce's eyes practically glowed, and if his intent was purely to rile Markus up, then he had succeeded. But nothing else. The lapine walked away slowly, and the door was closed.

"Oh my Lord, fucking junkie," yawned the wolf, tossing his keys back on the counter where they belonged and shuffling back to the warm confines of his bed. Even though he was trembling bodily he practically melted into the sheets, tucking his tail under him as he drew the comforter up to his chin, and the room was soundless except for what traffic remained at this ungodly hour of the night. It was easy to forget about the last fifteen minutes and just fall back onto that sun-drenched beach, where Trystan greeted him with quizzically splayed ears. God damn, was he cute like that.

"What happened, honey?" the dream-fox murmured as he maneuvered atop his wolf to take what was finally given freely to him.

"Oh, nothing that can't wait until tomorrow," Markus replied, then sighed as a magical warmth spread across his entire body, and Trystan told him how much he loved him.

* * *

One universal fact about working in a restaurant is that you can always count on someone wanting to give away or switch a shift, be it lunch or dinner, weekday or weekend, the twenty-seventh of February or Christmas Eve. With close to forty servers alone, all it took to perfect your schedule at Maxine's were a few well-placed notes and a few phone calls, and any time-management difficulties would be fixed. So it was without much fuss that Markus had fixed tonight so that they both worked the morning shift, a rarity for them both, to free up the night for a "special date."

The morning after Markus had walked him home, and after they had made such rough but passionate love, the wolf had seemed a bit distant...almost moody. After being prodded, Markus had admitted he hadn't planned on doing anything sexually, and that he had only wanted to make sure that Trystan was safe and sound, at home and with his own thoughts. This struck the fox as overly curious, because it was the vulpine's opinion that the main reason the two hung out together was specifically because of the inevitable sex between two horny gay canines...it was almost a certainty, given their differing species.

While Trystan made breakfast, Markus had sat at the table, nursing a cup of extra-creamy, extra-sugary coffee until it went cold in his paws, staring into space. It wasn't until he was tapped on the shoulder did the wolf come back to the world with a yip.

"Honey, what's up with you today? Morning sickness?" Trystan joked, trying to get some kind of rise out of his silver friend. Markus just looked up at him for a moment, then beamed from cheekruff to cheekruff.

"Nothing, nothing at all," he lied badly, but there was a wistful quality to his words. "I was wondering something."

"What's that?"

"Have I ever asked you out on a date?" The fox had moved back to the kitchen, but when he looked up, he could see the seemingly ludicrous question had been asked honestly.

"Uh...um, no, I don't recall you ever asking me out. How queer," remarked Trystan, and neither wolf nor fox laughed at the obvious pun. "Why, do you feel guilty?"

"Kind of. And, well..." Markus spun back and forth on his chair, his silk boxers--borrowed from Trystan, of course--squeaking along its metal surface. "There's something I'd like to do, but more than that...I wondered if you wouldn't mind coming on a date with me. A real date."

Never taking his eyes from his busy paws, which were waiting for the right moment to flip an omelette, Trystan raised an eyebrow and replied, "Sure I would, but why is it a date? We don't really go on dates."

"We don't? I always considered them dates."

The fox snorted. "Call 'em what you will, wuffie. Theoretically they could be called dates. But...whatever, if they're dates then they're dates. And you've got one with me, if..." He smiled when Markus' ears perked in his periphery. "If you can work the schedules for a night off for the both of us."

"Don't you worry about that," said Markus with exuberant confidence, "I can do magic."

And he had, definitely, done magic. This was a Friday night, the most lucrative and busiest night of the week for a place like Maxine's. Now, the fox wasn't really sucking for money, and missing one Friday night wouldn't hurt too much in the grand scheme of things, but he couldn't help but grieve the loss of at least a hundred bucks in tips. That was the price of a decent pair of jeans to wear on his moonlights at Tips 'N Tails, where he had a smash-up act as Your Next-Door Neighbor's Curious Son. In the right getup, if the vulpine did say so himself, he could pass for a fourteen-year-old just beginning to experiment with himself, and with friends, and their fathers...

"Oh dear, I am fucking self-centered," Trystan remarked to the empty loft as he poured a Disaronno sour while he awaited his little wolf's arrival. Sometimes he did feel like he poured on the gay image a little too strongly, but even when he acted normal he was still as queer as ever. He just couldn't help but take his work home with him. After checking his watch for the time--Markus was due in fifteen minutes or so, depending on if he got his ass in gear shopping for dinner supplies--the white fox swayed about the main room setting pillows to rights and generally doing the topical cleaning duties that kept his apartment looking so spotless all the time. The bedroom had already been prepped; Trystan couldn't think of anything the wolf wanted to tell him except to finally let himself be fucked, and if that was the case (it was certainly the vulpine's hope) then he wanted everything to be perfect.

Dinner beforehand was a nice touch, though.

"Hm, what to listen to?" he hummed to himself as he searched through his XM receiver for something to set the mood. Having already picked out his clothing, a casual violet silk shirt and pinstriped black slacks with no shoes, there was nothing left to do but let the beats flow. What would Markus like? After a few pushes of a button, the fox listened and recognized "Look Away" by Chicago, covered by a lite jazz ensemble. Instead of sounding like elevator music, Trystan rather liked the smooth flow of it, and decided it would be a nice background to a nice dinner. Markus was cooking; he had specifically offered to cook, probably to showcase some of the skills he'd learned in the kitchen. Such an adorable wuffie.

The fox swirled the liquor around his glass as he went to the kitchen area and started pulling out utensils and pans, the few things Markus had mentioned to have ready for him when he arrived. He bent over, so just his tail was visible above the counter, and sang to himself as he used his free paw to grab at things. "So if you see me walking by, and the tears are in my eyes..."

"Look away, foxy, look away," finished a voice that was not Markus'. Trystan peeked over the counter even before he had a chance to become alarmed, but after seeing who was in his living room he shrieked and whirled backwards, off-balance, into the refrigerator. Amaretto splashed all over his forearm and he dropped the glass, which fell to the floor and shattered at his bare feet. It was too late to look brave now; as it was, the fox was freaked out of his mind.

Pierce was sitting in a large black leather armchair, rotated to face the kitchen. His legs were crossed, his posture totally relaxed, as if Trystan were the intruder. Right away the vulpine smelled the familiar scents of his ex's dominance, stale beer and cocaine...just enough of it to focus the rabbit's whacked mind but not enough to fuzz it over. Chicago still played wordlessly through the jazz ensemble.

"Hi, lover. I bet I wasn't on your mind tonight, right? Bet I wasn't even in the top ten." Actually, if Trystan had had time to quantify, Pierce was number eight on his mind, so it wasn't entirely true. A low pang of dread coursed through the vulpine's veins as he watched the powerful lapine stand and start to approach the kitchen...slowly, purposefully, with intent. Pierce's paws were empty, but that was little solace.

"How did you get in here?" Trystan attempted to mask his fear with petulance, but failed transparently. It was as good a question as any; there was really no way to get in unless...

Pierce dug into the right pocket of his jeans and came out with a single key. He tossed it to Trystan, who caught it nimbly despite his trembling paws. "People are so friendly at the DMV, don't you think? I go in there, tell the nice lady my friend Trystan needs a new license, and he wanted to confirm the address on file is correct...but he's working." The rabbit's small smile grew wider, showing some teeth and, supposedly, his cunning. "She obliged me with your address without question. You moved uptown on me, foxy."

"Don't call me that, you bastard," spat the fox, but Pierce ignored the statement, taking one more step closer.

"She also gave me your places of employment, and to my surprise I found out you had a second job. So you're a stripper now, too? That's just like you. Anyway, I couldn't go back to that lovely restaurant of yours, so I sought out some information from a nice chubby polar bear at the bar."

"Eric," said the fox. What a fucking genius, he thought, but it wasn't entirely Eric's fault. His information was not private by any means.

"Whatever. Well, by the time he came all over the liquor in the bar, I had the name of one nice little wolf by the name of Markus."

Trystan started. "He has nothing to do with you and me, Pierce. You leave him out of this...whatever the fuck you're trying to pull." The fox pushed off the fridge, careful to step over the glass on the floor, but didn't approach more than a few paces. He knew he was scowling, but even his scariest faces were not much in the way of intimidation.

"Oh, I intend to. I talked to him just last night, you know. Lucky for me his keys were right by the door; I couldn't hold the 'remorseful bully' shit for too long. But I did manage to get his key to your front door. It was cake from there. Too easy, almost."

"Taking advantage of others," the fox growled. "Jail didn't change you a bit."

Pierce was undaunted. "I told him last night, while I was visiting his place, that you're sleeping around on him. He didn't believe me, of course, but that's what love does, doesn't it? Makes you blind. He's in love with you, and you're going to screw him like you screwed me."

Even as his jaw dropped, Trystan still tried to find the rabbit's motives and purpose for all of this, and how exactly it involved Markus, but he kept coming up with blanks.

"You are still fucking around, aren't you? Because it just wouldn't be like you to be monogamous."

"I never cheated on you when we were dating," Trystan countered, and it was true. He had been so smitten that cheating was out of the question...unfathomable.

"Whether or not I believe you is moot," said Pierce, now leaning over the counter and staring his ex-lover down. "Like you said, it's all in the past. But I thought we could have one more fling, for old times' sake. I was in town, and I thought, 'you know, maybe I could hook up with foxy for a night, have a little fun. I'm sure he's forgotten all about the bad stuff by now.' How stupid of me to think that, right?"

Trystan shook his head to clear it, incredulous. "I don't know what you thought would happen, but as I remember it you liked to drug me and rape me in front of your friends. Got you off hard, seeing your cum all over my face. At least you told me so." Fire flared behind the rabbit's chocolate eyes; similar pinkness rose to the tops of his ears.

"So you didn't forget. That's too bad, because I was hoping we could have a good time before I leave town, without you bringing that up, but I can see you're being obstinate."

"You're insane."

"Maybe. Maybe I'm a little out of control, but that's supposed to spice things up. Isn't it? A little danger in your life, living on the edge, it's supposed to be exciting and fun. Too much for you?"

There was no answer from Trystan. Pierce's words were coherent, but they didn't make much sense. The rabbit was obviously babbling because of a drug-induced mania, but there was no telling what he'd do if maddened or provoked. Not knowing whether to act tough or submissive, Trystan was forced into as neutral a stance as he could adopt. And what would happen when Markus...

"So I'm giving you two choices, foxy. Since you so thoroughly humiliated me in front of my buddies at your job, you've given me a nice case of blueballs. I've been saving myself for you, love, and I'd like to spend a little quality time with you. If you don't want to, I'll just push you onto the floor and fuck you anyway. Your choice." Pierce smiled smugly, asshole that he was.

Oh God. Trystan was thrown back more than a year, to one of any number of nights when Pierce would come home, crashing through the apartment to the bedroom, and order the fox to do a line of coke and spread his legs. He remembered there used to be a time when the rabbit made him feel one of a kind, special...and, by the end of their relationship, he was just another orifice, probably the third or fourth one each night. He didn't want to go through that again. He had to stand.

"If you leave now, I won't call the police." It was a lie, but it had worked before. Even as he said the words Trystan was inching closer to the cordless handset above the stove.

"You didn't understand me," said Pierce, moving around the end of the counter himself, "I'm not going to leave until I've accomplished my mission. There won't be any getting away from me. Where're you going to go, into the oven?" This was followed by a string of cackles only a high lapine can make, and it sent shivers down to Trystan's tail in its total madness.

"Please, just leave me alone," the fox repeated, the fear now standing out in his pleading. He was almost to the phone, and he started reaching out for it, but Pierce was too quick. The speed the coke had given him was too much. Trystan was able to dial 9-1-1, but the rabbit was on him before he could talk. He screamed as paws closed around his wrists and drew them together. A muffled voice came across the handset, but only for a second before one quick jerk from Pierce sent it to the floor. The batteries and cover went flying. Trystan screamed and struggled.

Pierce was unbelievably strong, even without being jumped up on more drugs than he was. But the way he held onto the fox's thin wrists, almost crushingly so, proved he wasn't altogether there. "I really didn't want a fight tonight, but if you want it that way, then fine," hissed the big lapine, pinning his slender body against the counter, making him howl in pain as his spine twisted unnaturally. Trystan tried to kick up into the rabbit's groin, but he could move neither arms nor legs. With his ex's body so close to his, the fox felt the protrusion of Pierce's erection against the material of his slacks and wrinkled his nose in disgust. Pierce was getting off on this.

Seeing an opportunity, the rabbit held Trystan's flexing paws in one of his, using the other to open first his fly, then the fox's, drawing his sheath and balls out into the open. "I can see you're enjoying this too," he snarled, drawing the white fur down to reveal flaccid black flesh underneath. His distraction made his cry of pain that much louder when Trystan bit his forearm hard enough to draw blood.

"Aaahh, fuck!" he cried, and promptly picked Trystan up bodily and threw him over the counter. The wind was knocked out of him even before he fell against the backside of his sofa, ending up curled in a heap on the carpet, wheezing and clutching his chest. The sound of crunching glass echoed against the backdrop of the satellite radio as Pierce rounded the end of the counter. He had something in his paw now, something shiny, and when he held it up and flicked air bubbles out of it Trystan nearly fell to crying.

"No, Pierce. Please, please don't do this," it came out as a mere whine. The fox attempted a crabwalk backwards, but his ex merely tripped him with one shoe, tackling him as he came to rest on his own tail. In a flash the lapine had him in a tight gorilla-hug, arms and legs, so movement of any kind was futile. The fox sobbed as he struggled as hard as he could, still not knowing why Pierce wanted to do any of this, besides scorn and humiliation, but could find no deeper meaning to his actions.

"It's the only way, baby," cooed the rabbit, managing to expose one white-furred forearm for his needle. "It'll all be over soon. Then you'll feel great. We'll both feel great, I promise." There was no reassurance in those empty words; Pierce nuzzled the fox's cheek from behind as he pulled the arm taut.

"No...no...Pierce..." But even as he uttered that ugly name, Trystan felt the pinprick and the pursuant fire as he was injected. That fire spread quickly throughout his arm and dwindled as it soaked into his body, driven by a racing heart to every organ and nerve ending and synapse. It was not a pleasant experience; it had never been exactly pleasant, but at least it had taken away the shame of being the center of a gangbang until it was over and therefore just a dream. Already the haze of inebriation was beginning to cover his senses. There would be nothing to stop Pierce's assault except for Markus, who just then happened to be opening the door.

"Hey, are you decent? Because my key's missing and..." The wolf, who had taken a single step into the loft, promptly dropped the two bags of groceries he had been carrying and started to move to Trystan, heedless of the large rabbit racing to his feet to deliver a solid kick to the lupine's chest. Markus took the full force and flew back against the entry wall, slumping to the floor in a daze.

Like a shot, Pierce reached over the counter, bringing a steak knife back with him. Seeing the wolf was trying to stand again, he moved over to cover the prone vulpine and drew the long blade to his neck, pressing just tight enough against the skin to make it hurt. Trystan held onto Pierce's wrists, but was helpless.

Markus, clutching his chest, stood and glared murderously at the man who had shot his best friend full of dope. "I'll fucking kill you."

"Try it and foxy's neck goes bye-bye, wolf," retorted Pierce, who tightened his stance on Trystan as if he were prepared to do it anyway. "By the way, so nice of you to lend me your key when I stopped by. I'm so glad the innocent ex routine worked on you."

"Liar. You're nothing but a liar," snarled Markus, his ears flat against his skull.

"Not about everything. Go on, honey, tell your boyfriend how much you love him," the rabbit prodded Trystan. The blade was little more than a dull pressure now; everything else had turned to a pleasant off-white haze. The notion that he and Markus were boyfriends struck him as particularly ridiculous, and he couldn't help but laugh like an idiot.

"Trystan?" Markus asked, actually curious despite the circumstances, even though what the fox said was wholly doubtable.

"Boyfriends? Hee! That's cool, boyfriends. You like my cock, wuffie, and my ass," he slurred, completely oblivious to the dangerous predicament in which he was.

"You said you loved me. Remember?" came the wolf's voice again through the haze. Yes, Trystan did remember, but he had been in the middle of a climax! How could the ridiculous wolf take that seriously?

"Pffft, no!" the fox spat, his limp wrists flailing uselessly in front of him. "You never heard of fuck buddies, wuffie. Jeez!" For a moment, he opened his eyes, and swore he could see the look of utter despair scrunch Markus' face into a tight ball as he fought back tears, but anything could be possible at this point. Certainly everything was profoundly humorous.

Markus regained his composure reluctantly, choosing to approach the two males on the floor. "Get away from him, you sick fuck!" he roared, but froze as the knife was again brandished too close to vital vulpine veins. The wolf backed away, panting raggedly, torn and distraught.

Pierce must have realized his plans were soured by Markus' timely intrusion; his glazed, wild eyes darted between fox and wolf, deciding a course of action. He skirted backwards on his knees, dragging Trystan along, all the while keeping the same distance as the wolf followed step for step. Once he reached the armchair, the rabbit kept his enigmatic smile and said, "Fine. You want him so much, you can have him. I guess I can't compete with the likes of you, being as you're such a bigger fool than I am." He set Trystan down and withdrew the blade, right before grabbing a pawful of the fox's headfur and jerking him away. Trystan moaned but lay still, oblivious to his two lovers staring each other down above him.

"Now just let me go and you can get back to your Camelot, and think everything's perfect, when it's all just fake. Okay?"

"No way, asshole. I want to see you in jail. You've hurt too many people. And Trystan doesn't deserve it."

"That piece of shit?" scoffed the lapine, tilting his head in the fox's direction. "He isn't worth the air he breathes."

Markus bared his fangs, raw hatred now boiling just beneath the surface. "He's worth it to me. Every day. Every minute. I don't give a shit what you think. You're going where you can't hurt anyone ever again." And, just barely audible above the XM, the faint sounds of sirens could be heard approaching. They were too close.

"Fucking phone," Pierce muttered, then yelled out, springing and sending the knife spinning towards Markus. The wolf was surprised, but ducked, feeling the sting as his shoulder was sliced shallowly by the blade's tip. Blood dripped heavily from the superficial wound, staining his arm to the elbow as he took off after Pierce, who was bounding over furniture to get around the startled lupine.

There was no pain as Markus twisted on the carpet, determined to stop Pierce from exiting the apartment any way he knew how. The rabbit now stood down the counter and to his right, dancing wildly on his feet, saying, "Come on, come on." And when Pierce lunged for the wolf's chest, Markus did come on, using the lapine's momentum to throw him against the wall in a pile of brown moaning fur.

This was it, the chance to end Pierce's domination, his power over others to ruin lives and make them his property. He could do it if he wanted to. He could take the knife to the rabbit's heart and claim self-defense and be done with it, but he wasn't that kind of person. Not even Pierce deserved that; he deserved a true punishment at the behest of his peers, and that would bring both him and Trystan more satisfaction in the end.

Coolly, Markus walked to the dropped grocery bags, their contents strewn all over the entryway. He picked up a sizeable squash, which was formerly destined to make a delicious peanut-squash soup, aimed carefully, and cuffed the rabbit's head with it. Without a sound, Pierce slumped to the floor, unconscious, as the sounds of squealing tires accompanied the shriek of sirens outside Trystan's building.

Emotionally spent, Markus dropped the gourd and went to his fox, crumpled and breathing deeply in a drug-induced stupor. He would be okay, physically, but...there was nothing more he could do but stroke the gentle, soft forehead until help arrived. Only when Trystan was loaded onto a gurney, which he followed into the ambulance, did Markus finally allow himself to cry.

* * *

Two weeks later, the downtown civic courthouse bustled with activity as various cases were listed, indicted and set for trial. A constant din of conversation filled the wood-paneled space, the voices of family members and defendants and lawyers aplenty. A large and very foreboding rhinoceros clad in a black robe insistently banged his gavel. "Order, please? Would everyone quiet down so we can get through this afternoon without giving me a coronary?" Within seconds, the room was decently quiet; most of those standing had taken seats. "Okay, let's get on with it," said the judge.

"Docket number oh-two-oh-six-eight-five, Markus Crondauer and Trystan Dartmouth versus Pierce Walden," spoke the bailiff loudly, "two counts aggravated assault in the second degree, one count possession, one count intent to sell, one count of violating a standing protection order." A chocolate-brown rabbit stood with his lawyer, a tomcat, in a box to the left of the center aisle. Another lawyer stood in a similar box across the way, flanked by a stunning white arctic fox and a slightly larger silver wolf. Both were dressed smartly in suits.

The rhino looked over his ponderous dark oak desk at the assorted lot before him. He rumbled, "These are very serious charges. I understand these all came about as the result of a single incident?"

"Yes, Your Honor," confirmed the bailiff.

"Young man, you have much to answer for," spoke the judge to the rabbit, who stared ahead with a deadpan attitude. "How do you plead?"

The tomcat spoke up with a raised paw. "My client will be pleading no contest to the aforementioned charges, Your Honor."

"Very well, counselor. Am I also to understand that the prosecution and the defense have reached this agreement under a plea deal?"

"Yes, Your Honor," spoke up the Shire stallion representing the two canines. "Mr. Walden agrees to plead guilty to these current charges, and in return, my client Mr. Dartmouth agrees not to bring abuse and drug charges from previous encounters into play."

Low whispers momentarily lifted the noise level of the room as rumors floated through the audience. The rabbit was visibly embarrassed to be in such a public forum, but the fox and wolf remained erect and steadfast.

"Is the defense satisfied with these terms?"

"We are, Your Honor."

"So be it. I see you've also agreed on sentencing...seven and a half to fifteen years, take or leave."

The tomcat nodded. The judge glanced to the prosecution, who did the same.

"Alright then. The State hereby sentences the defendant to no less than seven years six months, no more than fifteen years, in a penitentiary facility to be determined by the State. Next case." The gavel's bang was empty, final...a somewhat anticlimactic end to a long and bitter relationship.

The stallion turned to the fox and shook his paw, noticing right away the delicate ease with which his grip was returned. "Thank you for coming to me," he said. "I'm glad to do such a service for you, Trystan. Hopefully you can come out of this with a new outlook."

"I believe it's me who should be thanking you, Mr. Benson. I appreciate your hard and fast work. I owe you a lot." He was actually smiling at the horse, and for once in a long while it looked genuine.

Benson smiled back, flattering his chiseled equine features. "It's my pleasure and my job. I'll see you boys in my office on Monday for the final paperwork, okay?"

"We will," the wolf behind him piped up. "Thanks again." He gave Benson a shake before the lawyer turned and strode out of the courtroom. The fox was watching as two officers of the court escorted the rabbit from the room, head slung low. He did not look back as he was led out. Hugging his lover from behind, the wolf whispered in one ivory ear: "Are you okay?"

Trystan answered, turning his head as much as he could, "You're here. I don't think I could have done this without you. But yeah...yeah, I'm okay. I'm tired."

"That's fine. But could you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"I have something to show you. Over at my place."

* * *

Markus did little to hide his excitement during the trip across town to his miniscule apartment. Part of him was terrified, too, of what would happen before the night was over, but first things first: they had to get in the door. The last two weeks, not to mention this afternoon, had been particularly draining on both of them. After Trystan's short hospital stay and Pierce's subsequent arrest, there had been a flurry of legal paperwork, phone calls, and harsh words traded between law offices. And the hearing today had been the culmination of a lot of hard work.

"To be honest, wuffie," said Trystan as they rode up in the rickety elevator, acting almost as if he were back to normal again, "I didn't think I'd ever get to see your apartment. I was beginning to think you slept on the cardboard boxes in the kitchen at Maxine's." He giggled when the wolf sucker-punched him in the shoulder.

"There was no way I was going to let you see it in its old condition, so I enlisted a certain ferret to help me 'Queer Eye' the place up."

"Dean? You're telling me Dean helped you organize your apartment?"

"Yeah."

"And he kept it a secret from me?"

"Uh-huh."

Trystan quirked an eyebrow, ushering Markus out into the hallway after the elevator indicated the end of their ascent. The wolf led the way, since he was the one who knew where they were going. "That doesn't sound like Dean. The only way I've ever gotten him to keep secrets is with sexual favors. Don't tell me you-"

"No," deadpanned Markus immediately. "What kind of person do you think I am? You know you're the only guy I'm intimate with."

"I don't know that. How am I supposed to know that?" asked the fox. "Besides, we're all friends here." Yup, same old Trystan, all right. Whether it was actually the way he felt or just a cover act the wolf could not discern; that part of Trystan still scared him a bit.

"Right, friends." Markus changed the subject as they stopped in front of his door. "Now, it took most of the day and many arguments before we finally agreed on how it should look when it was done. I think it's fantastic, but compared to your place it's still small."

Grabbing the wolf by the cheeks and staring him down, Trystan said, "Size doesn't matter, hon, it's how you make the best use of it. At least in designing rooms, not everything."

"Cheeky," replied Markus, and turned the key he'd inserted into the lock. The room was dark when he opened the door, and for a few seconds the lupine entertained the insane notion that Pierce was hiding behind the door or waiting for them on the bed. He almost laughed out loud, but that would have seemed altogether strange behavior for him to Trystan, especially given their current conversation. With a claw he flicked up the switch for the room's main light.

The room came into view, seemingly drawn instantly as it was illuminated. The walls had remained their former off-white color, but with permission from the landlord they had been freshly painted, hiding all the former scuffs and pinholes. Markus' bed, at the other end of the room by the lone window, was neatly tucked and made; Dean had discovered the reverse of the ugly patterned comforter was a nice solid black, so that was the foundation for the rest of the room. A six-by-nine-foot black rug dominated the center of the hardwood floor, which had been thoroughly dusted. The kitchen (such as it was, no more than two burners) was clean and clutter-free, all of Markus' knickknacks and books had been shelved in one corner, and the absence of clothing was a miracle. It took twelve loads of laundry and some critical thinking, but the ferret and wolf had made every article fit in the tiny closet. There wasn't a scrap of dust to be seen.

Trystan turned two full circles in the middle of the small space, making little comments about this or that, a positive reaction overall. Then he turned to Markus and hugged the wolf tight. "Wuffie, it's very cute and very tidy. The only thing that could make it better would be pictures of the 'before'."

"Well," admitted the lupine, scratching the back of his neck, "Dean did take some, but they're on his camera. I almost wouldn't let him."

"I'll have to get him to show me sometime. Either way, I'm proud of you. You two did a great job, even if you didn't have to do it to impress me."

"What can I say?" Markus picked a couple of stray threads from his shirt. "I don't want to disappoint you. Do you want to sit down? There's just the bed."

"Sure." The fox, arm around Markus' waist, led them both to the queen-size bed, a freebie the wolf had found outside a Brownstone. It was still in perfect condition. "You're talking awfully clingy tonight. I'm supposed to be the frightened, scarred, lonely little foxy here, not you."

"Don't start on the self-pity, Trystan," Markus said. The fox looked at him curiously, decided he was being serious, and nodded. "So," he continued, "you never told me if they found anything in the blood tests."

"Nope," Trystan shook his head. "No STDs, of course, since he never actually got to the raping part, but most importantly, no VIDS. For once, the needle he stuck me with was clean."

Even though he'd been fairly sure that Pierce hadn't had more intentions than he had spoken of, Markus still urged the fox to get a full disease screening for his own sake. Just because Pierce had had cocaine in the syringe didn't mean he hadn't injected some Vulpine Immunodeficiency Virus too, just for shits and giggles. It was actually a miracle that, despite Trystan's dangerous past relationship, the fox was perfectly healthy.

Markus took Trystan's paws in his own. "I'm glad you're safe. You're lucky, too." The fox nodded somberly, and discomfort built in the air.

"I should probably get going. I don't want to fall asleep on the subway."

"Wait." Markus could tell Trystan knew something was coming, and the wolf was not going to let him go home without telling him how he felt first. There was no predicting what the fox's reaction would be...God knew Markus had played only one response in his head to bolster his confidence. He had to do it tonight, before they got more involved. Trystan was sitting next to him, knee touching knee, with attentive and nervous eyes.

"Did you mean what you said, in the loft, with Pierce?"

The fox furrowed his brow deeply in thought, then lifted it in resignation. "Hon, I don't remember what I said that night. I was high--compromised then."

"Pierce told you to tell me how much you loved me, and that we were boyfriends. You said we weren't, really, and that I didn't love you...just sex with you."

Just then, Trystan's face went slack and blank, and the longer it remained that way the more frightened the wolf became at what the answer would be. Please don't do this to me, he thought when the fox pulled his paws away and started wringing them in his lap.

"So, you think we're a couple, is that it?" It sounded like the nine most hated words in the universe. Something inside Markus crashed to a million bits, and he had to fight to keep from shaking. None of it was true. The lovemaking, the dates, the caring...none of it was real, really real like he had been so sure of, and Trystan was just playing him like another rebound. There was no way he could mask his anger this time, even if the fox was still recovering. He stood and started pacing the room.

"Markus, what's-?"

"Shut up," the wolf snapped. "So, let me get this straight," he said, his voice already shaky, "you just like my cock and my mouth and my paws, and nothing else? I'm just another tool to get you off so you don't have to do it yourself?"

"Markus, no!" Trystan stood up, a bit flustered himself. "What're you jumping down my throat for? Oh my God, if you aren't the picture of overreaction! If you wanted to bring me here just to berate me, I could've just stuck around Pierce a little longer."

"Oh, don't you dare try to joke your way around the truth again! I brought you here to get some answers, because I'm sitting, waiting, and worrying myself to death about you, and I don't even know if it's time well spent."

Trystan rolled his eyes dramatically, "That makes me feel sooo much better, wuffie, thank you. I'm glad the one person who cares about me doesn't think I'm worth the effort."

"I didn't say that. But you still haven't answered my question."

"Do I like you? Yes. Do I like having sex with you? Yes. Do I love you? No." There it was. Suddenly Markus regretted even starting the conversation, thinking falsely that if he hadn't spoken in the first place none of this would have been put out in the open. Then again, it was better to have it come out now than further down the road, where it could do far more damage. But why?

"Why did you string me along all this time?" No tears at the edges of his words, only anger and misunderstanding. "Months and months I've spent trying to figure out what you're thinking, what your game is, and despite myself I've fallen in love with you. You give me vague answers to specific questions, and I still love you to death, figuring you'll tell me someday. But you never told me, Trystan! I can't fucking believe you're doing this to me. Are you just that blind? Shit, the night after the fight at the restaurant, you told me--to my face--that you loved me. How am I supposed to take that?"

"I had just sprayed myself all over the bed, Markus! It's something called afterglow. I'm sure you've experienced it before. You say things you don't mean." The fox threw up his arms, almost in disgust.

"I don't," replied Markus quietly, and that stopped Trystan's tirade in its tracks. The fox just stood there, shoulders drooped. Continuing, the wolf said, "For a long time we were just friends, having sex, and somewhere along the line I decided to see if the attraction I felt to you was more than just physical. Everything I said I meant. Every answer to every question. I wanted to see if you loved me back, if I wasn't trying to be someone other than me. When you didn't reject me then, I felt so sure that you loved me back, even if you didn't tell me so. I guess it was stupid of me to project my feelings onto you without even asking. I'm sorry. Could you just tell me why you lied to me this whole time, why you played my heart like an instrument?" The wolf's cool precision made Trystan cringe; even though the fox was clearly shaken, he never relented. He wanted to make his point here, now, as clear as possible, so there was no room for mistake. "Or should I even try to believe you now?"

For the longest time, Trystan just stood in the same spot, looking at some invisible point off to his right but consciously avoiding the wolf's icy gaze. His arms crossed tight at his chest, the fox certainly looked like he was thinking, and thinking hard. Maybe he had been too hard, but maybe he had been just hard enough to get through to Trystan's colluded brain. Suddenly the slight vulpine let out a shallow exhalation, visibly seeming to draw inward, and he shuffled to the bed just in time to collapse heavily onto it, the box spring creaking its protest. Markus followed, guardedly, and remained standing.

Trystan lifted his paws and studied them closely. "Have I become that person? Well, that's what you think of me, so it must be true. You're so much better at this than I am, and you're not even trying. Believe it or not, I didn't want you to feel like this. I-I wanted just the opposite, but apparently I suck at trying to predict others' feelings." Markus knew his friend too well for this to be a ploy. It just wasn't like the fox to lie his way out of trouble. Sitting down next to him, much like that night Trystan had said those fateful but perhaps meaningless words, the wolf listened quietly.

"I don't understand. How did you think I was going to feel?"

Trystan sighed. "Differently, that's for sure. God, I've really fucked you up."

"Stop it," Markus said, stroking the fox's shoulder. "Just tell me the truth."

"I didn't want you to love me. From the start. But it's not like it sounds." Markus was finding it difficult to watch the fox like this, stuttering and backpedaling as he tried to explain his behavior. It was like trying to watch a six-year-old explain why he would want to shoot squirrels with a BB gun. "To be honest, I'm not good enough for you. Just look at what I've put you through lately. Come on, I have more drama baggage than most. You need someone who's fresh, like you, who can devote all his attention to you without having his past creep into every conversation."

"Trystan, I wouldn't have helped you through all of this if I didn't care about your past. Finding out all of this extra stuff about you has made my relationship with you all the more, I don't know, stable. I love you more because of your problems. Did you really think I wouldn't get involved after you gave me such a great blowjob in the bathroom that night? Some people don't believe in one-night stands. Besides, you kept inviting me over. What was I supposed to think?"

The fox's body seemed like it wanted to pull away, but the fox himself wasn't going anywhere. It was clear he had given up any hope of rectifying the damage he'd done. "You...were supposed to think exactly what you thought. I don't know how I could have talked myself into thinking that, by not acting all lovey-dovey and just being my playful self, that you'd see past that and still fall in love with me. I just didn't see it, Markus. And I'm sorry. You hopeless romantics are a hard bunch to fool."

Markus shrugged, smiling a little. "Is that what I am? A hopeless romantic?"

"Yeah, and you sure picked a hopeless person to romanticize about. If you fell in love with me, there must be something you like."

"Are you kidding?" the wolf asked incredulously. "It went from physical attraction to lust, to a crush, and all the way to love in a couple of months. I didn't grow tired of you, and I didn't get bored. Think what you will about burdening me with your drama shit, but I kind of took it as my job to get you through things. I mean, honestly, wouldn't you rather deal with shit with someone else, rather than stew on it yourself?"

This time, the fox giggled a bit, the vibration of it sending long-stored tears onto his shirt. "Um...yeah," he admitted, the blush showing in his eartips. "But I can't expect you to forgive me after this whole charade. You saved my life, Markus. I can't possibly think of a way I can thank you for that."

The moment had almost passed entirely before it struck the wolf as the perfect time to take care of something. "Actually, I can think of one way." He pulled the ring from his back pocket, taken from its box earlier to avoid an obscene bulge. Its weight, as he turned it in his claws bringing it around his back, felt just right, cheap piece of jewelry that it was. He took Trystan's right paw in his, and before he could think about it, slipped the ring on the fox's fourth finger. There, it's done, he thought with only a tiny bit of relief.

At first, the fox just looked at it, turning his paw this way and that as if to confirm its existence at any angle. Incomprehension wrinkled his face. "What is this?"

"I've been thinking of ways to give that to you for months now. Granted, this isn't exactly how I had hoped it would go, but...there it is."

"Markus, you don't want to do this. There's too much stuff wrong with me for you to do this. What does it mean?" Trystan's eyes said he already knew exactly what that ring meant; he just wanted the wolf to speak the words.

"It means," Markus spoke, "that I love you, and want to be in a relationship with you, and want to be committed. It's not an engagement or anything, but I couldn't think of a better way to show you how I felt. Even if you didn't feel the same, I at least wanted to let you know."

"I do feel the same," the fox started, then caught himself. "No, I-I don't know for sure, I could feel the same...but Markus, I slept around this whole time!"

The honesty the fox's words outweighed any shock factor they might have carried; actually for the last couple of months, as Markus had doubted Trystan's reciprocated feelings for him, it made sense that he would be taking advantage of his attractiveness. That was just the way the little vulpine operated; he was a fox, after all.

"I suspected that, really. It's okay, I'm not mad or anything. Did you feel that you might not be faithful if you committed to me? Was that another reason you didn't want to hurt me, or am I being Freudian about things?"

"Truthfully, it never crossed my mind. I'm ashamed to say it, but this whole time I was sleeping with other people. It was because I never considered us as 'together', because I was too stupid to notice you loving me. But of all the people I was involved with, I enjoyed my time with you most because you stayed. The night, the morning, you know. Around."

"And now you know why," said Markus, gathering the fox's paws and facing him. "You still haven't answered my question yet."

"I'm sorry," Trystan apologized. "Not very good at that. But what if I-"

"If you do," interrupted the lupine, not caring what the fox was going to say, "we'll work it out. Do you want to at least try?"

Trystan squeezed the wolf's paws with force, drawing in a great breath. Markus could tell it was an especially hard choice to make, given what they'd both confessed. He didn't stop hoping, though.

"I don't want to try, Markus. I want to do." And he smiled. And Markus smiled. And both canines blushed terribly. "God, I feel like I'm fifteen again."

"But lots more intelligent."

"That remains to be seen. Wuffie, I can't believe you did this for me. I don't think I've ever had a real, live relationship before. Be patient with me."

Markus nodded. "I already have. And, speaking of being patient..."

"What?"

The wolf smiled a very wolfish smile, teeth and all. "There's something you've been wanting to do with me for a very long time. I always said I was saving myself for a special someone."

"And I'm that someone now?"

"You were always that someone."

Trystan flushed again. "Wuffie...Markus. Can I kiss you?"

"Pffft, of course." The fox leaned in, tilting his head, and Markus had already tilted his oppositely in anticipation. For all the kisses the two had shared before, it was refreshing this time...and much, much more intimate. Trystan's breath was warm and sweet to the wolf's sensitive nose, just enough to make his nostrils tingle before the soft flesh of vulpine lips met his. That first touch was fleeting, but lasted only a moment before the fox leaned in again, more insistent this time. He worked his jaw in little nibbling movements, drawing Markus' lips in, wanting to be more dominant but hesitant to reveal his wishes.

A sudden intense thrill sent Markus' heart into overdrive as he realized the full meaning of their actions. No longer just part of the foreplay before sex, it changed the way the fox directed his motions and the way the wolf felt them. This was, finally, a kiss shared by two lovers, and though it was clear they both had to work some things out before the relationship even got started, there was a renewed level of commitment radiating just from Trystan's black lips. It increased with every peck they shared, the wolf opening his muzzle just a little more to allow his foxy better access, because he knew what Trystan wanted deep down and was more than happy to give it to him.

One of Trystan's paws settled just above Markus' knee, and the wolf responded in kind with a paw directly on the fox's groin, gaining a gasping moan and a redoubling of their embrace. The fox didn't bother with keeping his slow romantic pace; he just forced the lupine muzzle open and darted his tongue inside. Markus squeezed and pushed back with his own tongue and enjoyed having a snout at one ear and a lower jaw at another. Both their mouths were open wide; the wolf actually would have felt silly if it were not for the fox's covered erection to give more meaning to the kiss.

Markus went to work teasing his lover's hidden erection through the material of his dress pants. It was plenty hard before he'd even touched it; now it radiated heat and pulsed strongly even through two thick layers of fabric. He ran his palm over it, using direct pressure to shift the vulpine's sheath from side to side and seek out his balls just below. With a claw he could trace its outline almost directly under the zipper, and even the slightly raised ridge of the urethra was tangible.

As the wolf rubbed him in all the right ways, Trystan could not bring himself to break the kiss. Instead, he made it stronger by channeling his moans and thrusts and other expressions into an increased fervor in his mouth. Even if Markus had wanted to stop, he would have been hard pressed to do so against the fox's strong tongue. As hard as Trystan pushed, he never sped up, keeping everything on a nice, slow scale; he wasn't used to being so gentle, but he was getting to like it.

A particularly hard squeeze forced a gasp from the fox, and he clawed at Markus' upper arms as he broke away. Already sweating, Trystan looked down at himself, then at the wolf. He seemed to be in shock from all the gentle but insistent pawing and licking. "You know, Markus, I'd be crying right now if I weren't so horny." The wolf just smiled, his paw resting between the vulpine's now spread legs.

"Is that different from what you're used to?" he asked.

"Very," Trystan replied with a light shake of his head. "I'm so set on the whole flirting and seduction thing that I don't have time for intimacy. This is nice."

"I'm glad you like it. This is what I wanted to do with you for so long; you just wouldn't let me. You were in charge most of the time." Markus resumed rubbing, albeit much lighter now.

The fox asked, a bit hesitant, "Do you really want me to do this?"

"Are you telling me I'm gonna have to raise my own tail here? Because I'll pull you on top of me if I have to. You're not the only horny one here." Trystan confirmed Markus' words by stroking a few fingers along the wolf's fly, his heart jumping more than it really should have at the thick, semi-knotted bulge there. Yes, Markus was bigger than most, but the closeness they now shared, a new thing for the fox, was like some wonderful new drug.

"Oh wuffie, I love you," Trystan murmured.

"Try saying that when we're not about to have sex and I'll believe you," chuckled the wolf facetiously. "Can we get naked now?"

"Okay." Since his paw was already conveniently placed, the fox went to work there first, making quick work of the button and zipper. He pulled the jeans apart, and had the waistband of Markus' boxer-briefs down before he could lift up. Two inches of dark pink meat greeted his eyes, followed by an explosion of musk to his nose. Without thinking, Trystan bent down to suckle the first precious clear droplets from the lupine flesh that had yet to grow much, much bigger.

"Oh jeez, foxy, fuck..." moaned the vulgar wolf, not having expected this so soon but not complaining either. He held the fox's ears lightly in his fingertips, massaging the thin edge of white-furred skin there. Trystan bobbed a little, letting the end of his slender jaw unsheathe him even more, but the attention was short-lived. The fox pulled off, pulling silver sheath with it, and wiped fluid onto his forearm, licking it clean then.

"Sorry. It was just there, and so tempting. I do believe you're intoxicating me."

"Sorry? I'm not sorry. No way. But I have a feeling we'll be exhausted before we get to do what we want to do if we keep this up."

Trystan was already unbuttoning his shirt as he agreed. "You're right. I'm already tired as it is, but testosterone is good at helping you stay up. I mean, awake! Hee!"

"You silly," said Markus as he undid the tail button on his pants, letting them slide limply to the floor. He watched his new boyfriend strip before him, and a sense of personal pride washed over him. Having someone as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside was not even an inkling of a dream when he had moved to the city...when he had first started to be attracted to men. But even though the fox said he wasn't a good catch, Markus knew him more than Trystan would allow to even himself, and if he showed the vulpine what a good person he was, then he could see more of what he was seeing now. Trystan was downright giddy, no doubt much more at ease now that he didn't feel it necessary to fake his way into someone's pants. The fact that the fox knew he would very soon be taking someone's virginity had more than a little to do with that as well.

Not even bothering to fold his clothes on a table like he usually did, Trystan stepped from the pile at his feet, pawing at the blackness between his legs. Since his sheath was more or less a pouch attached to his belly (unlike Markus', which wasn't attached at the upper half and was more like a foreskin) he could only bring out a couple inches at a time, but the fuzzy ivory skin bulged with blood.

"How clean are you?" asked the fox, and the question took Markus a bit off guard in its baseness.

"Uh, pretty clean, I guess. Haven't gone to the bathroom since I showered before the hearing."

"Good. Now why don't you be a good boy and get on the bed for me? All fours." Markus shuddered at the command, and he actually let out an obedient "Rawrf!" as he complied. Inwardly, he hoped he was as clean as he said; there was no telling what had moved into his lower intestines in the last eight hours. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint.

Ten claws raked pathways down the wolf's lower back, around his slightly raised tail and down the twin globes of his buttocks, stopping inside his thighs just short of the rear of his scrotum. He let out a satisfied moan, keeping his tail still but wagging his body to compensate. Trystan did more of the same, each time choosing a slightly different path or starting point, always going a new direction. Slowly the claws worked their way down and inward, focusing more attention on his rear with each passing swipe. Markus was content just to rest his head on the comforter and pant, flexing his half-exposed cock against his belly. There was no predicting how much it would take to set the wolf off, as worked up as he was getting.

Markus was enjoying the claw massage so much he didn't even notice that Trystan was, in fact, using it as a distraction while he spread the wolf's tailhole, relaxing it. The only thing the wolf knew when he felt first the cold wetness of the vulpine's nose, followed by the much hotter softness of the flat of his tongue, was that he had lost the ability to support himself. His arms splayed out, and he whimpered obscenities over a lolling tongue, always encouraging but never really intelligible.

Keeping his eyes closed, Markus finally found the presence of mind to spread his legs a bit more, feeling himself losing ground to the fox's probing tongue, the tongue that had just been nearly halfway down his throat. His tail was up, his legs were wide, and all of a sudden a paw was gripping his sheath and pulling it back behind a knot just big enough to keep the flesh from returning. Fingers stroked in unison along the bottom of his slick member, and he flexed, which not only sent more blood to his cock, it opened up his hole for the fox to slip in about an inch...after which he went to town eating out the lupine.

, part of Markus was saying he shouldn't have done that, that his precious virginity had been lost to just a tongue, but that was just ludicrous. Virginity was to be taken away by a joining of two bodies, not just a good rimjob, so he let his lover continue, fighting the urge to hump into that vulpine paw. Trystan raked along the run of fur covering his perineum and up, pressing his way into Markus at the top of every stroke and staying there to loosen him up a little further before coating the base of his tail with saliva and starting over again.

Breathing was becoming altogether difficult with a fox at his ass; the pleasure was so unexpected and unpredictable that Markus was gasping in the middle of exhaling, depriving his lungs of steady airflow. The wolf was becoming lightheaded and dizzy, but concentrating on his cock helped steady things. He could no longer talk, but he could feel Trystan pushing to go deeper, his nose now bumping his tail up and out of the way. It was when the fox somehow flicked over something deep inside him that sent him over before he knew what was happening.

Disappointment, regret, embarrassment, gratitude and relief washed over him in the second it took his balls to pull up before Markus oh-oh-oh-oh'd into the bedclothes, knowing he was staining his clean comforter white. Trystan apparently had known it was coming, and he hadn't stopped! What a sneaky little fox. Fingers kept a steady rhythm on his spurting member, surprisingly not oversensitive, and for a full fifteen seconds he rode out his orgasm silently and trembling fiercely, impaled on Trystan's tongue.

The fox let him go when he had stopped twitching, giving his tailhole a last cleaning lick, and shoved him onto his back hard so he wouldn't fall into the considerable puddle of semen below him. Markus looked over at the load, which was twice his usual volume with much more pre, and said, "Holy shit, Trystan!" looking at the knowing fox. "What in the hell did you do to me? It felt like I was going to piss, and then...BAM!" His erection, still a thick eight inches, rested languidly on one thigh.

"Don't you know what your prostate is, hon?" asked the fox with a quirk of his head.

"Is that what that was? I knew about it, and I knew if felt good, but...shit, I didn't know you could hit it with your tongue!"

Trystan shrugged, saying, "That was pure luck. Yours happens to be closer to the outside than most. Normally you can't get close with your tongue, but when I found it I couldn't help myself. You did enjoy it, didn't you?"

Markus gestured to the puddle. "Well, yes, but am I supposed to come that much?"

"The prostate helps in fluid production. Stimulation of it can double your load and the length of your orgasm."

"It did that, for sure," said the wolf. "But what about you?"

"What about me? Now that you're all loosened up, you're ready for the real thing. Do you need to rest?"

"No, not really. I want this too much. Should I get on my paws and knees again?"

Trystan rubbed up and down one of the wolf's thighs, keeping a safe distance from his flagging erection. "Only if you're ready. I'll go nice and slow, as long as I can, okay?"

"Don't hold off on my account."

The fox leaned up and gave a deep but short kiss to the wolf. "Okay, hon." With that, he urged Markus over again, and the wolf was eager to resume his previous position. He looked at the now congealing stain next to his head and got excited all over again. Trystan was rummaging around in drawers, looking for something.

"Lube," he said. "Got any?"

"No, actually," replied Markus. The fox was silent for a good while, obviously nonplussed that the wolf really meant it when he said he was a virgin. "But I have some Vaseline in the bathroom, for rashes and stuff."

"That works too," said Trystan, who padded across the room to the adjoining bathroom, opened a couple of drawers and came back, opening the container of jelly as he did so. "This will be different, but at least your ass'll be moisturized." A couple of cold fingers spread a dollop of the stuff around the outside of his hole, and then one of them slipped in, quite easily. Markus moaned, and the pressure increased.

"That's just a finger, isn't it? Wow."

"That's two fingers. We won't have any trouble," said the fox as he pushed the remaining Vaseline from outside to in. It provided a nice numbing from the friction of fur on flesh, and made him feel like he was really being used. And, as it warmed to his body, it became slicker. Trystan withdrew his fingers and spread some more jelly on his member, being liberal with the application. Then came the final step: the fox got on the bed behind his friend and spread Markus' legs with his own. The wolf shuffled forward a bit and made his rear as inviting as possible.

"Ready?"

"Please."

Trystan placed his paws (now clean, of course) on either buttock and pushed, spreading the wolf's tailhole wide for the best angle. When he felt the hot tapered head touch his skin, he couldn't help but tense up, but as the fox leaned in and pushed gently, the moment of discomfort when he spread for Trystan's cockhead disappeared as the rest of his shaft followed. It was not a big one by any means--the fox was a good six inches but a tad narrow--but the sensation of something hot and engorged with blood sliding into him, filling him, was satisfying to no end. In that moment, he gave his virginity to Trystan, let him penetrate his body, and now that it was over, he could see so much more to their relationship in that regard. He only hoped Trystan was feeling the same way.

"Are you okay?" queried the fox from atop him, hilted to the knot but motionless.

"Mm-hmm," said Markus, wriggling his hips to back up his nonverbal response. He steadied his legs, pulling his arms to a bend for support, and opened his muzzle in a soundless groan as Trystan withdrew, giving the altogether odd sensation of another prostate massage combined with a need to flex his bowels. But since he couldn't close his sphincter, the giving up of that control was all the more erotic.

Trystan started slow enough, and Markus wasn't at all inclined to stop him or tell him to speed up. In fact, it was a good thing he'd already climaxed, because even if the fox's cock sent shivers of pleasure to his own member, he wasn't inclined to touch it, instead just settling for being ridden gently, lovingly. He sensed Trystan was also not used to this pace, and that he was doing it mainly for the wolf's benefit, but he also wanted to make it last. They were now at a point where the vulpine would pull out slowly, then shove himself back in, obviously enjoying one more than the other.

Sounds of breathlessness were now coming from the thrusting body above the wolf. Trystan's paws kneaded the silver fur of his thighs and sides, sometimes tickling, sometimes digging painfully as the fox found a thrust particularly pleasing. As the increasingly noisy pounding quickened, the fox lowered himself onto Markus' back, adjusting his angle of entry as he did so. Soon Trystan's paws were securely clasped just under the bottom of the lupine's ribcage, holding him steady as he mated his lover like a true canine. It was up to Markus to imagine the look on the fox's face, whether it was screwed up in concentration or smiling dumbly, but he liked both equally.

Giving a few shallow thrusts more, Trystan stopped and held still, wrapped around his wolf, breathing saliva onto his back. "Had...had to stop...I was almost there, but I want to see your face." Markus didn't have to be told twice, and he gingerly rotated underneath the fox, losing his connection in the process. But as soon as he was on his back, Trystan cradled his torso, aimed hips at hips, and just like that he was inside again...no pain, no nothing, just that full feeling again.

This time the wolf could look up and see his fox's face, finding that both of his suspicions were correct; it was a mixture of vulpine smiles and scowls of focus as Trystan would ride the way to orgasm depending upon what he was feeling, and what Markus was giving him. Every time the lupine clenched around his black member it elicited a grin and a renewed vigor in his thrusts. Markus just wrapped his legs around Trystan's back and rode away, starting to be a little more noisy himself. It felt like a good time to start pawing again.

If you are one of those people who likes to keep their eyes open during sex (or you can find the willpower to do so), there is perhaps nothing more erotic than watching your lover get off above you, knowing you are giving them the pleasure they need to reach their peak, and satisfying the most basic of urges while at the same time showing your utter love and dedication for that person. Such was the case for Markus as he watched Trystan, his body a machine with a singular goal, not moving faster but with more intent, as the fox approached climax. His little body, now a completely different one from the sashaying, swishy-hipped girly-boy body the fox normally had, quaked with effort. The fox grunted, perspiration dangling from his armpits and dropping onto Markus' chest, and he looked remarkably male for once. Straight, almost.

As Trystan went into the final stretch, his smallish knot insistently pounded against Markus' hole, threatening to break in. The wolf knew what was happening, and tried to relax to let it in, but it was more or less impossible to control his muscles when that knot was bumping his prostate from the outside. He could do nothing but hold his legs up and stroke himself as the fox tried to tie with him, making slow progress that was almost painful in its ecstasy.

And then it just happened again, no warning, no nothing. Trystan was still not fully inside, but his knot had overpowered his sensitive prostate once again, and Markus had to paw. "Aaaaaaawwww!" He made his position very vocal this time, the noise triggering the fox to an even higher level to help the wolf out with his come. This one wasn't as long, and there was not much more than a dribble to be had from his already-spent cock, but the tremendous explosion he felt in his groin was twice what the first had been. It also faded quicker, and Markus realized that during his passion he'd loosened up enough for Trystan to shove the rest of his foxy knot inside of him.

"Wuffie, I'm gonna..." The rest of the sentence turned to a guttural growl as the fox suddenly slowed his thrusts to one per second, and Markus thought he was coming, but it was a good few seconds before Trystan let out a great burst of air, spraying the wolf with spittle and finally signaling his release, his marking of his mate. Eyes closed, the fox seemed in another world, nibbling at the wolf's neck, licking all over his head, taking away sweat, spit and dried tears from earlier. His hips were reduced to minute jerks that were more instinct that controlled, and eventually even those died out. During that time Trystan had relaxed, and now they lay side by side.

When he finally opened his eyes, their deep vibrant violet was utterly stunning. They seemed moist almost to the point of tearing up, but it was just satisfaction and, well, something else.

"I love you, Trystan," said the wolf.

The fox blinked twice, lazily, as if in slow motion, opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. He looked down, considering, then said, "Yeah...I think I love you too. I hope I can." Markus just laughed and hugged the vulpine as best he could while tied. "Do you think this can work? I mean, you and me."

There was really no easy answer to that question, Markus knew. He had done everything he could to convince the fox of his feelings, he had saved Trystan's life, given him a ring and his virginity...but it was up to Trystan to make it real. And he would do anything for that fox, if it meant seeing him happy. It wasn't something he could explain in words; he just felt that way.

"I'm willing to try if you are," he said simply.

"Me too, wuffie. But can I be honest with you?"

"Always."

"I'm scared. The way I am, I have to change a lot of things to be...you know...monogamous. It's not that I don't want to be, it's just that I'm so used to being this whole other person-"

Markus shushed the vulpine with a finger to his lips. "You don't have to change that much, Trystan. We don't even have to be wholly monogamous, necessarily. But we have plenty of time to talk about that later. Not right now, though. We're both pretty tired. And you look so cute like that."

"What? Tied?"

"No, tired."

"Oh. You know what I feel like right now?"

"Huh?"

Trystan looked up at nothing in particular, visualizing. "I feel like that part at the end of a book where everybody's happy, and you're on the last page, and you close the book, and you're just satisfied. You know?"

"That's afterglow, hon," said the wolf with an overpronounced lisp, prodding the fox's ribs. "I kind of feel the same way, but I feel more like I'm turning the first page on a fresh story, excited as to what each new one holds."

Making a sour face, the fox said, "Now you're just getting sappy on me with your stupid metaphors."

"You started it," the wolf shot back, reaching over Trystan's shoulder while trying not to rip his cock out by the roots.

Pushing back against the silver chest, the fox asked, "What are you doing?"

"Setting the alarm clock. What time do you want to get up?"

"Don't," Trystan said, and Markus relented, flopping back onto his side and giving the foxcock buried within him a teasing stroke.

"Why?"

"Morning sex is best when you wake up naturally," said the fox.

"Oh, so you want to put me through this again."

Trystan scowled and crossed his arms in a huff. "An hour into this relationship and you're already nagging me? At least we know who the wife is."

"Oh, I fucking love you too. Fine...no lube for you next time I top."

"Let's not be that couple...please?"

"Don't worry. We're not. And we won't ever be." Markus put the fox's arms around his back, doing the same with his own, and nuzzled his new boyfriend. "Not if we work at it."

"I can do that. Goodnight, wuffie," yawned Trystan, snuggling his head into the wolf's abundant chestfur.

"Goodnight, love," replied the wolf, and clutched the little vulpine tight to his body, as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling off the world.

FIN

8/28-12/27/05