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This story was written for Kemper. It contain M/F sex between consenting adults, and intimate/emotional scenes.

[center][b][u]What We Have[/u][/b][/center]

There were good days, and there were not so good days.

This was true for most everything, and most everyone. To the best of Kemper's knowledge anyone who claimed their life was perfect, without flaws or things they wanted to work on and change, was either deluded or dishonest. And, that said quite a lot about the sabretoothed cat, because most of the time he was aware that his own life was pretty damn amazing. He had a job that kept a roof over his head and food in his belly. He had friends with whom to spend his time and with which he could talk. And of course, he had his lover. His Willow. Just as Willow had him.

But of course despite all that Kemper had and all that he recognised himself to be lucky to have in his life, the truth still remained for him as it did for most everyone. There were good days, and there were not so good days.

And today, unfortunately, was one doozy of a not so good day.

Work had been hellish. Colleagues off sick. Bosses placing increased demands on the remaining employees. Confusion and dis-organisation as everyone struggled to catch up with the increased workload, leading to more problems, more frequent and angrier visits from the higher ups until by lunch-time more than one of Kemper's bosses had yelled at him and others directly, and more than one of Kemper's colleagues had been reduced to tears. From that point onward things had only gone downhill, a spiral of one bad decision or one bad attitude leading to more and more of the other.

As a result, by the time Kemper left work that evening he was utterly and completely miserable. He didn't care that he had a whole weekend ahead of him. Two long and work-free days to de-stress and not think about how much of a garbage fire this particular shift had been. All he could think about as he walked to his car was now much he [i]didn't[/i] want to go back on Monday. How part of him just wanted to go back into the building, ask for a printout of his digital time card, and tear it up in front of them as he quit. He didn't of course. He needed his job, and he wasn't so out of his mind with frustration to forget that fact. But that thought, that idea seethed and burned in his mind as he drove home. It festered and rotted away all hopes he'd had of a relaxing and pleasant evening at home, and made it so that by the time he arrived back at his and Willow's apartment the only thought running through his mind was an internalised countdown clock, marking off the pathetically small number of seconds, minutes and hours he had until he had to return to work and go through this all over again for five, maybe even six days in a row.

He dragged the door open, stormed through and slammed it rather forcefully shut behind himself, locking out the world beyond and all too happy to seal himself away as though never to emerge again. He kicked off his shoes and tossed his rucksack rather forcefully to the floor at the base of the coat-rack, and rather than hanging up his jacket as he took it off simply balled it up and tossed it down upon his bag and shoes with a grunt of frustration.

"Fuck."

Muttering under his breath, Kemper could feel the anger boiling inside him. The desire to act. To do something to vent his frustrations. To yell. To cry. To do [i]something[/i] to express his frustration.

It was then, of course, that Willow stuck her head out of the living room and into the hallway. The human woman, pale skinned and freckled, regarded the cat with a thin, tense smile of her own to greet him. What she said though wasn't a welcome home, or a how was your day. Instead, she asked a much more simple question.

"Before you get settled, do you think you could run down to the corner store and grab some things for dinner?"

It was such a simple request. And of course, Kemper knew that it was one which would have been painfully easy for him to do. Slip his shoes and jacket back on, grab a list from Willow. Maybe hug her, kiss her, and tell her that when he got back he'd like to vent about his bad day to someone whom he knew would be willing and understanding in their ability to listen. But, he didn't think about that. Not for a second. All he thought was the same thing he had been thinking since the very moment he left work. The short and ever diminishing amount of time he had before it would become not just necessary but obligatory for him to go back, and how little the idea of going out to the shops in his work clothes would assist him in making the most of what little freedom he had.

He looked at Willow with a solemn but firm expression, and shook his head.

"Sorry, no."

He could have explained why. He could have asked if he could get changed into something more comfortable first, or taken ten, twenty, even thirty minutes to relax and recharge. To let his nerves settle and his brain unplug from the stress that it had been under all day long. Kemper could have done any of those things and seemed entirely rational and reasonable. But instead, just those two words, spoken without a shred of apology despite the words themselves suggesting as much.

Willow frowned, and in that frown Kemper saw every frown which his boss had sent his or indeed any of his colleagues' way all throughout that day. She took a step out into the hallway towards him, dressed in some comfortable shorts and a t-shirt, her feet bare. Gesturing up and down the length of her body, she tried again.

"No? C'mon. I'm not exactly dressed for going out. If I'm honest, I've had a pretty shitty day. I really don't feel like going out to the store, getting all dressed up again just to walk half a block."

Kemper closed his eyes, raising a hand to his brow and rubbing it briefly before moving a couple of fingers down to the bridge of his nose, rubbing between his eyes like he was developing a headache.

"You could have gone on your own way back from work. Or texted me while I was on my way home so I could stop off on the way. My day's been fucking awful too, Willow, and I don't need you making it worse."

The cat saw his lover's eyes widen. He heard what he'd said, and deep down he felt an ache of frustration at himself, a pang of intense guilt at the poor wording and confrontational manner in which he'd spoken to the person who meant the most to him out of quite probably everyone in the world. Yet still the confrontations of the day were raging in the forefront of his mind, and though Kemper knew it was a horrible thing to do, he could feel himself venting that anger which he hadn't been able to let loose against his bosses at someone else. At an innocent, entirely unwitting target. In this case, the woman standing before him.

Willow shook her head, standing up more straight and raising her eyebrows as she looked at Kemper with frustration and concern.

"Me making your day worse? By... what? Asking you to help out? Not being some domestic goddess and having dinner prepared and ready on the table for when you get home? Just because I got home thirty minutes before you, Kemper, doesn't change the fact I worked all day too."

Kemper felt his fingers twitching, flexing in frustration. He could feel and indeed hear his tail sweeping back and forth behind him, battering at the backs of his own legs in its outrage.

"Did I say any of that? Don't put words in my mouth, Willow."

Willow rose up more and more, her figure swelling with indignation until she was standing just as tense and standoffish in her manner as Kemper himself.

"You said it Kemper. Don't try and back out now. You said you don't want me making your day worse. What the hell am I supposed to take from that when the only thing I've done today is ask you to go to the store?"

The cat raised a hand as though proving his point, almost readying a '[i]gotcha[/i]' like ah-hah to seal the deal but at least thinking better of that.

"Exactly. The only thing. We barely spoke this morning, and what do I get when I get home? This!"

Willow didn't hesitate for a moment in firing right back.

"Congratulations, Kemper, you officially sound like a guy in a nineteen sixties sitcom. Wanna go the whole way and complain that I didn't even have the common courtesy to offer you a kiss and a blow-job as soon as you walked through the door?!"

Kemper growled in frustration.

"Don't be ridiculous. There's a long way between me wanting to have a few minutes to unwind after a fucking day like today and trying to turn me into some raging misogynist just because I don't want to go to the shops for you."

The human female barely seemed to hear anything he said though, just shaking her head and raising a warning finger towards him.

"Don't you growl at me. We talk about things like fucking grown ups in this house. We don't growl or threaten or anything like that. Why the hell do I even have to [i]tell[/i] you that?"

The sabretoothed male's tone changed slightly after that, and indeed he didn't growl again. He did however stamp a foot petulantly down against the carpeted floor of the hallway, not in frustration directed at Willow, but at himself for letting that frustrated growl come across in any small way as threatening towards the woman he loved.

"C'mon. You know I didn't mean it like [i]that[/i]. Why would you even fucking think that, Willow? When have I [i]ever[/i] made it sound like I was being angry or threatening towards you?"

She too seemed to regret having taken things that far with her accusation, but just like Kemper himself Willow's mind was now too overstretched and filled by frustrations to simply allow herself to pull back. She was committed now, and any sign of withdrawal would be in her mind tantamount to letting Kemper walk all over her, just like those fucking idiots at work that day had tried to for hours upon hours on end.

"N-not normally, no! Of course fucking not. But today. You growled at me Kemper. Don't act like it never happened. I saw the look on your face. I know you know you did it. And why? Because I asked a favour of you."

After that, things began to circle. The same arguments began to repeat over and over again with no resolution.

"Oh, so we're back to that now? All this is a big guilt trip to try and get me to the store? Really, Willow?"

Neither one of them were angry at each other. Or at least they hadn't started out that way. Both had been angry, frustrated and just itching for a reason to be allowed to express that frustration though, and rather than simply being offered the chance to sit down and [i]talk[/i] it out with the one they loved, the pair now found themselves using their lover as the entirely wrong kind of outlet. Letting loose their frustrations not for the other to hear and understand and sympathise, but launching them like projectiles and watching the damage they wrought with each impact grow and grow as the conflict escalated.

It ended of course, perhaps thirty minutes after it had begun and thus [i]far[/i] longer and far more stressful a period of time than it would have taken for Kemper to have simply gone down to the store, in the only way that it could. With a breaking point.

"Y'know what, I can't fucking do this!"

Willow raised her hands over her head, shook it in wide eyed and frenzied frustration at Kemper, and turned swiftly upon her heel to storm down the hallway of their apartment. And of course, as frustrated and overwhelmed by his own anger and regret and seemingly inescapable bad decision making as each of them currently were, Kemper gave chase.

"What do you mean you can't do this? What the hell does that mean?"

He watched as Willow rushed into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her, but knew that the door had no lock upon it and so followed her in mere moments later. She scowled at him, already standing by the closet with her shorts half tugged down, kicking them the rest of the way off even as she dragged a pair of jeans out from within the wardrobe's hanging space. The cat watched as she re-dressed herself in those jeans, grabbing a sweater from the dresser and pulling that on over her t-shirt too. Then she was gone again, shoving past him as he stood in but not blocking the doorway.

Once more Kemper followed the human out into the hall, and as she began to put on a pair of shoes by the door his eyes widened.

"Willow? Where are you going?"

She glared at him pointedly.

"Out."

Kemper frowned, shaking his head.

"C'mon. What the fuck does that mean. Out. Are you going to take a walk? To see a friend? To buy groceries?"

As soon as he said that, Willow whirled around on the spot, eyes wide and blazing with anger.

"Fucking groceries?! Really, Kemper?"

It was then, for the first time, that a few tears sprang to her eyes. Not through sorrow per se, but through such an abundance of intensely acute frustration that it became too much for her to express in any manner [i]other[/i] than that.

She shook her head at him even as she wiped the tears from her eyes and gave a single indignant sniffle, and in that moment all the venom and outrage drained from Kemper's features and indeed from his mind, replaced by a single thought instead.

He'd just made Willow cry.

Before the horror of that fact could really sink in though. Before he could say or do anything to try and course correct the situation as a whole in any meaningful way, Willow shook her head one last time, grabbed her jacket off the coat-rack, and was at the door.

She looked back at him once more as she opened the door and stepped out into the corridor beyond, and spoke a single word, cold and calm.

"Bye."

Then the door was closed again. Not slammed, but closed slowly and purposefully, and Kemper was alone.

He let loose a deep, ragged breath he hadn't realised that he'd been holding, feeling it escape him in shuddering bursts. At last, it was quiet. At last, he was not bound to stand here and wait and listen to himself being yelled at any more. He was done with work, and now he was done with this, and so at last he could try to relax. To unwind, and de-stress.

Except... no. No he couldn't. That was what a part of him wanted to do. A small and selfish and in fact so ridiculously stupid part of Kemper's mind that he probably wouldn't have even acknowledged the presence of the thought had he been any less insanely frustrated by all of this day's compounded madness.

"Shit..."

Kemper whined under his breath as he stared at the front door. Closed. Silent. Willow having vanished through it, and probably now long gone.

"Fuck!"

He lurched forward to the door, and flung it open on the off-chance that like in some romantic movie she was leaning upon the other side, silently begging him to open the door and beg his forgiveness.

"W-Willow, I'm so sorry!"

He said it. Before he'd even looked at what lay beyond the door the words were spoken as regret and dismay crashed over him, the passing adrenaline rush of his anger now unable to maintain itself in the quiet and calm silence of the apartment, even his own self-directed frustration unable to adequately supply himself with ongoing rage. But of course the hallway of the apartment complex was silent and empty.

Kemper withdrew back into the apartment, and as he closed the door he muttered once again.

"Goddammit. Idiot."

His fists clenched by his sides at his own self-directed frustration. He took a few steps forward, turned sharply, then walked back, only to turn again as he began a short series of pacing strides back and forth along the first portion of the hallway, getting faster and faster until all at once he froze and cried out louder, easily surpassing the loudest volume which he and Willow had reached during their argument.

"Fucking [b]shit[/b]. What the [i]fuck[/i] was that?!"

He grabbed at his own head. At tufts of his own hair, tugging as though seeking to drag himself forward even as he began to move once again, to walk robotically and desperately towards the bedroom.

"What the hell did I say?! Why did... holy shit, all she wanted was for me to go to the fucking grocery store!"

He'd known this right from the start obviously, yet only now was it seeming to actually sink in. By the time Kemper reached the bedroom and sat himself down upon the edge of the bed, his hands were off his head and back down by his sides again, flexing and clenching over and over and over. He stood up again. Then sat back down. Then stood up once more only to growl loudly and be seated yet again. A part of him wanted to scream. A part of him wanted to turn around and start pounding on the bed with his fists. Another part of him wanted to run into the bathroom, step into the shower fully dressed, and douse himself with frigid water like a feral cat being sprayed by a bottle of water for scratching on the furniture.

His mind began to spin. His head to whirl with thoughts to the point where he soon felt dizzy if not outright nauseous. Over and over he replayed the start of the argument in his head, trying to figure out [i]any[/i] reason he'd had to be so belligerent. Any reason not to have seen that she was just as stressed and frustrated as him. Clearly, there wasn't one. He frowned and growled and shook, standing and sitting again repeatedly, pacing a few times, fists almost constantly clenched as he remembered every stupid and thoughtless thing he'd said.

It didn't take long before he was back at the end of the argument. Replaying and repeating inside his own head, unable and unwilling to shut it off, the moment when Willow had simply had enough. When she had switched off from trying to fight or defend or anything, and had simply opted to leave.

He saw the door close a million times.

He felt himself standing in the hallway, not going after her, for endless eternities stacked upon one another.

A cascade of fresh anger, every last drop of it directed inward this time, crashed through him, followed by an equally vicious surge of regret.

In that moment he would have done anything to have Willow with him. To hold him. To reassure him or even just to listen as he apologised to her over and over again. But, she wasn't there. In fact Kemper had no idea where she was, and this fact truly hit home as he grabbed his phone out of his pocket and began to text her. It took more than ten attempts before he found a way to word it that sounded even close to alright...

'[i]I am so sorry. No excuse for taking that attitude towards you. Shouldn't have said any of those horrible things. Come home when you're ready. We'll talk. I love you so much.[/i]'

...and for a few brief moments after he hit send, Kemper felt the tiniest bit better.

Then he heard the buzzing.

He turned, eyes wide, and saw sitting upon the bedside table on Willow's side of the room, her phone. It sat connected to a power outlet, charging and seemingly forgotten by Willow in her haste to get out of that situation.

The colour drained from beneath Kemper's black and white fur, and he felt tears spring to his eyes as he realised something.

He had no way to tell her he was sorry. No way to let her know that he was filled with regret for practically everything he had said and felt and thought since arriving home.

He had no way to let her know anything. No way to talk to her. To get a message to her. To say or express anything that he felt towards or about her.

And as Kemper began to let that feeling sink in, a feeling which rather than new and terrifying was horrifyingly familiar, the tears in his eyes began to flow down his cheeks.

He sank down onto the bed as a few trickles became a weeping stream.

He rolled over as the weeping grew deeper and more intense, his whole body beginning to shake.

And while Kemper began to sob in miserable anguish at the situation he had placed himself in, he began to think back. To recall, and remember his life before Willow. His life when, like now, he had felt almost entirely alone.

[center]***************[/center]

Kemper sat quietly in the dark. On the screen in front of him, the only source of illumination alighting the expression of concentration upon his face, he saw a video. A video of a woman, a human with rich brown skin and not a shred of clothing upon her body, lying back upon her bed with two fingers spreading apart the lips of her neatly shaven pussy. His eyes widened slightly as he watched the exposed pink flesh within her nether regions quiver as the digits of her other hand moved in closer, and his ears twitched beneath the headphones wrapped around his head when the woman's fingers found her clitoris and she let loose a soft, breathy moan towards whoever was on the receiving end of this recording.

She wasn't actually there of course. That is, this wasn't someone Kemper knew. It wasn't someone he had even a passing connection with in real life. It was simply a woman who had made a video of herself masturbating for some lover or perhaps just to show herself off to the internet at large in some manner of exhibitionism, and whom Kemper had sought out in order to obtain the same thing she was now seeking.

Over several minutes his face remained calm, his eyes focused, as one hand lingered upon the mouse of his PC and the other upon his cock, rubbing it up and down rapidly as he masturbated in time with this beautiful lady. It was only when her cries began to grow louder and more shameless, and as she roughly rubbed at her clit Kemper was able to see the inner workings of her pussy quivering and squeezing in anticipation of their orgasmic release, that he too began to let himself lose control a little. To pant, huff and allow his face to contort in expressions of pleasure.

She came, hard.

And so did Kemper, spilling his seed all over the fur of his hand and a few droplets upon his thighs, thankfully sparing the trousers and underwear wrapped around his knees.

After that though, with a quick wipe of some kleenex and a few moments of placid relaxation within his desk chair, Kemper dragged his trousers back up, sealed his still thickened and swollen-knotted cock back in his underwear, and returned to what he'd been doing before. The game he'd been playing flashed back up onto the screen, his break now over, and Kemper continued to play.

He had no plans for the night, except maybe jerking off again later if the mood struck him. Just like the last night, and the night before. Tomorrow he had plans with a few friends, but just a drink or two at the local bar. Then back home for an hour or so of browsing online, and... yeah, probably another session of masturbation.

There was nothing wrong with that of course. God knows Kemper didn't feel guilty for masturbating, nor indeed did he think anyone should unless it actively interfered with their social life or plans beyond the confines of their home. But therein lay the issue. He didn't have much of a social life. He didn't have many plans to interrupt. Certainly none of the intimate, sexual variety. Thus, he was all too happy to simply intersperse his evenings with gaming, with chatting to friends over messengers and suchlike, and masturbating when the desire struck him.

Though, perhaps happy wasn't the right word for it.

Content, perhaps? Or maybe even just... used to it.

[center]***********[/center]

Kemper lay in bed, breathing heavily as beneath the sheets his hand worked hard upon his cock, squeezing and rubbing urgently at his knotted base and already able to feel pre-cum drooling down the underside of his throbbing length.

His eyes were closed, his mind focused on trying to imagine what it would be like to have a woman there with him. A girlfriend. A partner. A lover. A friend with benefits. A wife. Hell, he couldn't really claim to mind what personal relationship they shared, so long as she was there.

He thought of videos he'd watched. Pictures he had admired. Stories he'd read, even created together with someone else on the far side of a text-screen through roleplay. But as enjoyable and exciting as those various thoughts may have been, they didn't help him imagine how it would feel to have someone there with him. Not physically, the weight of their body straddling his, the subtle movements they'd have to make to get comfortable and the co-ordination of their actions as they rocked and rubbed and pressed against and within and around one another. And for sure not mentally. Not emotionally. Kemper knew how he hoped it would make him feel to be with a woman. How it would make him blush and smile and make him want to do everything in his power to make them happy. But, it was all theory. It was all imagination.

He came.

It was... good. Pleasurable. Fine.

But, it was masturbation. He'd done it before. He'd do it again. And much as Kemper wanted to believe that he could make every orgasm better and better by employing the right amount of imagination; so much that he might not even be so desperate and eager for a real woman to replace his hand and his mind's combined efforts, he was not at a point where he could imagine that happening any time soon. Or indeed, perhaps ever.

The feline male squirmed, wriggled in discomfort as he felt himself shift in bed, a patch of the cum he had sprayed out onto his bedding now coming to rest cold and wet upon his thigh as he stretched his legs out and thus lowered the bedding back down into contact against him. He sighed. He should have gotten something to clean up with. He should have planned for that eventuality. It wasn't the first time it had happened, after all. But... why bother? He could handle a little discomfort. He could deal with some small amount of wetness and stickiness, and the next morning's shower would take care of any scent or residue lingering upon his body.

Right now though, he was fine with leaving it as it was. After all, it wasn't like there was anyone else here to see or feel or judge him. That was one of the few fringe benefits from being entirely alone in one's intimate activities.

[center]***********[/center]

Kemper sat alone.

He had been crying.

The day had been terrible. His college classes had sucked. His last assignment had been so bad he'd almost failed it, somehow entirely missing the point of what had seemed like a relatively simple topic. His friends were busy. His family was too far away to visit, and a phone call just... it just wouldn't help right now.

And he was alone. Of course he was.

All Kemper wanted was one person. One person in all the world to whom he could turn at moments like this, and of course who he would gladly give his full attention to when they needed it as well.

Forget sex.

Forget his past fantasies of beautiful women one day lining up to be with him. To share his bed. To hold him and love him and pleasure him to his heart's content. Forget all of that crap.

He just wanted... he just [i]needed[/i] a person.

Someone to share his love, yes, but also just to... share. To share everything. The good in life, yes, of course. But the bad too. The burdens and struggles and frustrations.

And truly, genuinely, he didn't mean that selfishly. He didn't want to just throw his feelings and emotions at someone else, without a care for them in return. He wanted a partnership. He wanted not only to feel as though he would never have to be alone again, but to be proud and overjoyed in the knowledge that he would be able to offer someone else that same reassurance.

That night, Kemper wept.

That night, he wept alone.

But from that night onward, Kemper began to hope. To believe. And most importantly, he began to do better. To try harder.

So that when the day came, and he found someone with whom he truly wanted to share all that he was and all that he had to give, they might just want him too.

[center]***********[/center]

Kemper felt his cheeks flush, but he tried not to let it show. He smiled, and he met the gaze of the person whose hand he was now shaking. Feeling her smooth, furless skin against his touch. Feeling her grip, almost perfectly matched to his in strength and firmness. Not clammy and nervous like his, much in the way her smile seemed to shine with a confidence he could only dream of projecting.

But, he tried his best. He tried to make a good impression.

And as he felt her hand lingering in his own, not seeking to withdraw as they smiled at each other, freshly introduced, he began to wonder if perhaps this time he had succeeded.

"H-hi. I'm Kemper."

The woman tossed her brown hair over one shoulder, and as the freckled features of her face curved with a smile that was still growing wider, she answered in a voice that now Kemper swore he'd fallen in love with from that very first moment.

"Pleased to meet you, Kemper. I'm Willow."

[center]***************[/center]

"Kemper."

The cat stirred.

"Kemper... baby..."

He recognised the voice. It made him smile just to hear it. Especially now. Especially after...

His eyes bulged, and he sprang upright from where he had obviously fallen asleep after hours of sitting. Hours of thinking and crying and remembering all sorts of things from the past which had made his actions early that evening so much more unthinkably foolish on his part. Sitting next to him on the bed, looking slightly surprised at his sudden return to the waking world but primarily looking sad and nervous in equal parts, was Willow. She seemed nervous, as though waiting to see how the sabretoothed cat was about to react.

When he sprang forward though, lurching from his sitting position to reach out, grab her around the torso and hug her as tightly as he possibly could though, her nerves evaporated.

She heard Kemper crying. Sniffling and whimpering as he gasped to her in urgent pleas.

"I...I'm so sorry, Willow. Oh god I'm sorry."

And as tears welled up in her own eyes, tears of relief and joy, she shook her head, stroking his hair and ears as she hugged him back.

"We both said some really dumb things, Kemper. B-but... I'm sorry for storming off like that. I'm sorry for being short with you, and "

They held one another like that for quite a while. Longer than either of them really needed to, but not nearly as long as they would have if there had been nothing else to discuss. There came a point however where both Kemper and Willow realised that apologies and hugs weren't enough. They had to talk. To say what needed to be said about that rare but rather fierce fight, whatever it may have been.

Thus, they did.

Sitting upon the bed together, legs folded in beneath them, cuddled side by side cheek to cheek and hand in hand, they spoke.

Willow explained her bad day at work, not an excuse for her behaviour, but the reason underlying it. Kemper did the same. They both shook their heads and muttered curses under their breaths as they spoke about the people and reasons for making them so angry, and blushed, laughing slightly at just how much better it felt for each of them just to [i]hear[/i] someone else independently stating how much colossal douchebaggery had led to their simmering frustrations.

"I feel awful... if I'd known, if I'd taken ten seconds to ask... I never would have hesitated in going down to the store for you."

Kemper murmured tenderly to Willow as she fell silent with a sigh, relieved to have it off her chest at last.

"Yeah. But... if I'd known the kind of day you'd had, I wouldn't have even asked. I..."

She giggled, not forced but by the same token not entirely without weight to the sound.

"Fuck. Y'know... we should have just ordered take-out."

Kemper chuckled too, and nuzzled more tenderly against Willow.

"Yeah. That... that probably would have solved it."

They smiled as they leaned against one another, and little by little their faces turned, their cheeks brushed, until at last they were lips to lips, eyes regarding one another bashfully and nervously as they moved to kiss.

"I... I'm so sorry for anything I said, Willow. Bad day or not, I should have been better."

Willow sighed, nodding as she pecked in joyous, happy relief at her furred lover's muzzle.

"I'm sorry too. I love you, Kemper."

They kissed. Gentle but lengthily, embracing and trembling against another another as a few more tears slid down each of their cheeks. Kemper shuddered, and growled not in frustration or anger, but in happiness as he felt one of Willow's hands reaching for his belly, slipping underneath the fabric of the work shirt he was still wearing and brushing against the fur beneath. To his own dismay though he felt himself reaching out not for her body in return, but to draw her hand away, or at least to stop its continued advance.

Their lips parted, and Willow looked curiously, slightly sorrowfully at Kemper as he seemed to rebuke her first attempts at a more intimate, purposeful physical advance. He reassured her with another fond peck though, and purred deeply as he took her hand in his and squeezed.

"B-before... I... before we do... anything. There's something else I want to say. You don't have to say anything back. I... I'm not doing this for validation. It's just... I was thinking about this while you were out, and... it's one of those things that may be super obvious, but that I want to make sure I say out loud to you more often. O-okay?"

Willow smiled. She nodded with the utmost sincerity. The utmost respect and care and curiosity.

She wasn't just willing to listen. She was eager to do so, and that made what Kemper wanted to tell her all the more rewarding.

"Before you, Willow... I was lonely."

She opened her mouth, but closed it again before Kemper even had a chance to raise his hand and ask her to let him say this first. If he didn't do so now, god only knew it would only get harder. Already he could hear his voice quavering slightly with emotion.

"I... I didn't even realise it sometimes, because I was so used to it. I didn't realise how much better things could be. How much more zeal I would have to live each and every day to its fullest... to make the most of every opportunity presented to me, all because of what you gave me. All because of what I was able to share; to give and receive, because of you."

His fingers laced through the human woman's own, and their palms pushed together, digits squeezing with deep affection as they sat there together in their darkened bedroom.

"We argue. We disagree sometimes. Occasionally we even fight, like today. But... it means the world to me. Seriously, Willow. Everything in the world, t-that... even after fights like that, you're still here. That I can still be here, r-ready to apologise, and do whatever is necessary to make [i]us[/i] stronger again. What we have. What we share... it's everything I ever dreamed of and so many more things than I ever dared to dream of having. Not sex. I mean... not [i]just[/i] sex..."

Willow giggled, and the hand which had retreated from Kemper's stomach returned there, casually and carefully beginning to un-button his shirt from the base upward as he kept on talking, a slight glow beneath his cheeks as he felt what she was doing but made no effort to stop his lover this time around.

"...but, intimacy. Y'know? Being able to cuddle up with you and watch a movie. Being able to come home at the end of the day and, dumb fights aside know no matter how bad the day has been that things will be better the second I lay eyes on you. Having someone to talk to. Someone to touch, and touch me. God. T-there's hundreds, probably thousands of ways my life has changed since you came into it, Willow. And I hope... I hope I've changed yours too."

Finally Willow broke her silence, just briefly, to breathily moan something to Kemper as she kissed him on his neck while unfastening the last of his shirt's buttons.

"Of course you have."

The feline male blushed. Grinned.

"Basically, what I wanted to say is... t-thank you for being here. For letting me be here, sharing my life, e-everything I am and everything I have, with you. And please. Please... d-don't ever let me lose sight of just how important that, and [i]you[/i] are to me."

She beamed. She sniffed slightly, blushing and nodded gratefully as Kemper lapped a single salty tear off one cheek.

"A-and... you'll do the same for me?"

He nodded. Grinned, blushing and shivering as she took her tongue, softer and less rasping, and dragged it across the cat's left cheek to wipe away one of his tears. They both laughed, and embraced more tightly, both arms now flung around the other's body even as Willow used that action to peel off Kemper's shirt. Again they kissed, and as they did so Kemper fell backwards, falling flat upon the bed and pulling Willow happily down along with him. She rolled over, soon straddling his body and looking down at the cat with eyes that were as alive with relief and eager, joyous adoration as he had ever seen, feelings which he fired back with all his heart.

"S-so..."

Willow murmured happily, nibbling on her bottom lip for a moment as she ground her hips down against Kemper, dismayed that she was now wearing jeans rather than the light shorts she'd had on earlier that evening.

"...fancy a late dinner? C-curry. Sushi? Fried chicken?"

Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes widened as she felt Kemper's hands rising up and slipping beneath her t-shirt, beginning to pull it up and over her head.

"Or... o-ohh... Kemper... do you want a [i]really[/i] late dinner... a-and first..."

Her voice trailed off, followed by a squeal of mirth as no sooner had her t-shirt gone flying, Kemper rolled them over so that he was now astride her, briefly burying his face between her bare, bra-less breasts before lifting his head and moaning to her in intimate, joyous hunger.

"First, Willow? First, a-and always... I want you."

By Jeeves

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