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December 25, 2084 - French countryside

Winter is a beautiful season, though it does entail a certain sense of melancholy. In the French countryside, a comfortable distance away from the bustling, effluent cities of Paris and Nice, winter brings with it a heavy snowfall, greying and scattering the sunlight streaking through the atmosphere, greatly reducing the intensity and heat of the day. Cold, harsh winds blow through the valley and rustle the partially frozen branches of the large trees in the region.

The valley was tremendously cavernous and with it came a feeling of ineffable awe. Two smooth hills extended for many kilometres, one along either side of the road, and were impressively tall yet, with effort, able to be climbed. On the left of the valley, as viewed from the centre of the long road, sat a futuristic home which simultaneously radiated feelings of comforting cosiness and striking modernity. Its floors were slanted to accommodate the mountain's curvature, with short stairways placed inside to facilitate easy travel between the various rooms of the house. The living room was impressively large, complete with a full view of the outside via strong, durable transparent walls constructed from a substance known colloquially as nanoglass.

Camille rested on the sofa, alone in the large living room, curled up under a thick white blanket, watching the snow fall on the distant valley through the transparent nanoglass wall. He resembled a tabby with vulpine characteristics, namely that of the large furry ears and the tail that was more than long enough to be feline and bushy enough to be that of a fox. His fur was of a creamy alabaster complexion with an ever so slightly pink hue near his central body, while farther out towards the limbs it smoothly blended to a vulpine orange-black colouration past the knees and elbows. His yellow eyes glowed faintly with the ever present desire for his mate to return home. Considering the bone chilling negative eighteen degrees Celsius outside, he wore a very loose-fitting red sweater with equally loose-fitting black pyjama pants. The clothing, along with his slender, short body and the neck-length black, straight hair, gave the foxy feline a decidedly feminine appearance.

Arthur had been absent for four months on military deployment, and he imagined that many other men and women had shared the same fate. China and the United States had been increasingly encroaching on one another's territory ever since the 2050s, when oil deposits had become increasingly difficult to find, among many other key industrial materials. The resulting series of conflicts- what the media branded as the "Resource War"- had consumed the public's attention ever since. With the constant, ineffable paranoia of worldwide nuclear Armageddon, Earth's population of nine point five billion was in continuous fear. And, of course, though France had little to do with the main two superpowers' conflicts, the United States was an ally, necessitating French intervention by means of the partnership in the United Nations. That was the price of friendship, Camille supposed. When your friend stumbled into a difficult situation, it was your duty to help them, even if said friend's conflict was a horrific war fought between Earth's two most powerful and imperialistic superpower nations.

For whatever his lover's bravery, Camille was unable to fight in the French military due to his unique citizenship status. He was an Augment, bred by an electronics zaibatsu as an indentured servant to the highest bidder. Arthur, the thirty five year old human, had purchased Camille three years ago to tend for his house while he was off for war. Almost immediately, after no more than a fortnight, the pair had grown extremely affectionate, and Arthur happily agreed to purchase Camille's freedom, which allowed the Augment to earn a job at a European computer technology company. After Arthur's mother died, leaving him with the inevitable emotional void, the pair became inseparable, though his mother did leave them with a substantial will, a product of her many decades of success in the field of corporate marketing. With that, they purchased the countryside home and kept the rest in the bank, living off of the interest and both partner's wages.

Regardless of the fortunate situation Camille found himself in, he still lacked a traditional citizenship. He was still required to pay taxes, still required to purchase a socialised healthcare plan, and still required insurance, though he was unable to join the military, or any government position, for that matter, due to his species, nor could he legally marry (he and Arthur still likened themselves to spouses, however, in spite of this legal limitation). Needless to say, he felt cheated and humiliated of himself and the bizarre, unnatural hybrid species he was born into. Perhaps his bouts of depression wouldn't be so severe if the weather would simply clear up.

When Arthur returned he would surely cheer up. He was tall, with a well-built but not overly bulky muscular frame. He loved it when he returned from deployment: His much smaller, androgynous frame would be hoisted in the air by Arthur into a tight embrace, followed by deep, loving kisses and caresses. The human would run his hands through the fox-cat's delicate fur, simultaneously stripping both him and himself of their obstructive clothing. Then he would drive his massive member slowly and relaxed through the Augment's delicate passage, thrusting and kissing and moaning and caressing until-

The phone rang. The fox-cat jumped, taking his tetradactyl hand out of his pants and only then realising that they were heavily tented, his knot slightly swollen and member leaking with lubricating fluid. He shook his head and regained his senses, quickly reaching to his left and retrieving the cell phone, looking upon its glass surface. He inhaled sharply as he saw the familiar young face, the short brown hair and bright, lively brown eyes, his tail immediately being thrown into a sort of wavy wagging. He quickly depressed his paw pad on the glass surface and held the computerised device to his ear.

"Hello?" the Augment asked excitedly, his already naturally high voice being amplified by the jubilation coursing through him.

"Hi, honey," that French, masculine voice spoke happily. "I just landed in Paris."

"Hi, Arthur!" he said, his voice punctuated by little laughs in between words. "Tu me manques! It's been so long!"

The human chuckled. "Ah, that is has, non? How have you been, le grand amour?"

"Aww..." the fox-cat said, his heart warming at Arthur's sentiment- the love of my life_was its meaning. "Well, I've told you about the promotion I got at CapoteTech; other than that, no major events have really come up around here. It's been so, so cold here, but I believe it may get warmer _very soon." He added a sultry purr to his voice.

"Oh..." Arthur said seductively. "I believe that may have been a little suggestive of you, Camille. Naughty boy."

"Very naughty," he corrected, earning a salacious laugh from both of them. "Anyway, mon cher, how are you? Are you alright?"

"I was just on an eight hour continuous flight from Beijing to Paris on a military aircraft; the sub-zero temperature as I'm walking to my car is biting at my very being; and, you know, I've been shot by a laser pistol, so I have a nice little burn mark across my chest where the stem cells are regenerating my flesh." He sighed as a gust of icy wind blew over him, and Camille could hear this as a loud blow into the phone. "But, I'm finally almost home, listening to your voice, about to be in your arms in a few hours, tasting your lips and... probably a few other organs of yours. All things considered: I can only be happier once I get home."

Camille's purring increased to the point of resembling an aircraft engine over the phone. "I'm very glad to hear that, Arthur."

"Like I said earlier today, the roads are terrible outside, so don't even try to come pick me up. I already called a taxi."

"Very well," he said happily. "Well, I suggest you hurry home, mignon."

"Oh," Arthur returned, "I will indeed, mignonette. I'm walking to the taxi now; I should be home in about an hour, okay? I love you."

He giggled at the feminine term of endearment; they both knew who was the more feminine one in the relationship, and Camille took well to the compliment. "I love you, too, Arthur. See you soon."

They both made kissing sounds towards one another when Arthur hung up the phone, prompting the Augment to place it down beside him. Feeling an unkempt wetness on his crotch, he moved the blanket out of the way and discovered a heavily tented portion of the fabric of his pants, a pool of moisture forming at the precipice of the tent. His primal urges told him to rip off his pants and physically relieve the burning, flaming desire swelling up in his loins and spatter the results across the sofa, but he didn't want to leave Arthur disappointed when he returned. Watching Camille wrench and mewl and explode in orgasmic ecstasy was something Arthur cherished more than most anything.

He whined his frustration and looked to the other end of the living room, witnessing the Christmas tree that he had put up the prior week. Leaving the couch, he padded over on the indelibly cold floor and knelt down in front of the tree, ensuring that the eight boxes were all properly wrapped and complete with little white and red ribbons. The tree, as he concluded, was in immaculate condition, and would be a present in itself when his love returned. Being of a decidedly secular nature, Arthur and Camille were both atheists, though to them Christmas had more in keeping with a social holiday than it did a religious one. Christmas, among other holidays like Easter or Good Friday, did not require religion to be celebrated, in their eyes. Those holidays were simply to remind people that being together and thankful for everything you have were important and worthy of celebration.

Speaking of thankfulness, Camille thought, I'd better check on dinner. He arose from his kneel and padded- across that damned freezing tile- to the kitchen, where the scent of his lover's favourite meal was beginning to distribute itself heavily throughout the house's atmosphere. He reached the oven and pulled the door down, looking inside at the scrumptious meal: Homemade baked ziti pasta served in a blend of tomato sauces and French cheeses, mixed throughout with a hefty helping of high-quality beef he had purchased at the market. Though it was not as ornate or complicated as other dishes, it was, by both verbal declaration and his nonverbal _mmmm_s of approval, Arthur's favourite dish. The trick, so you see, was getting the pasta cooked enough in the boiling water so that it wasn't too tough, while simultaneously undercooking it slightly to ensure that it didn't become dry and overcooked within the oven. The fox-cat was an expert at this, however, for reasons of which he lacked understanding. The solution, he quickly discovered, to avoid the pasta burning was to simply saturate it with tomato sauce, to add ample moisture, and douse it with a thick layer of cheeses to add both exquisite flavour and insulation. That way, even if the cheese burnt (which, with his experience, it surely wouldn't), the pasta would remain perfectly protected and cooked by both the boiling water and the heat of the oven.

He had placed the dish in the oven around ten minutes prior, right before he received the phone call from Arthur, leaving him around an hour before he would come home, which was more than sufficient to give the ziti its distinctive golden bake if he put the oven on a low temperature. Adjusting it, he quickly scampered off towards the bedroom, dressing into something he deemed more suitable for their reunion.

An hour passed. He sat there by the nanoglass wall, lapping at the green tea he brewed, looking out the window for any sings of Arthur's vehicle. The road they lived on hosted a number of cars, however, and deciphering one from the next as they travelled the bare stretch of asphalt would be a difficult thing indeed. He would just have to wait until a vehicle came up the driveway, it appeared. Owing to his femininity, he picked out the sexiest outfit he could produce from his inventory: A black dress with a layered skirt which reached to the mid-thigh, a pair of red and white striped leggings- very appropriate for the Christmas season- which reached slightly above the knee, and a pair of black arm warmers on each arm. His straight, neck-length black hair and vulpine coat of fur were combed to perfection, radiating the unmistakable appearance of an effeminate man trying to please his partner.

After sitting there for more than half an hour, he had a twinge of worry shoot through him. Is he safe? Did something happen? Is- the phone at his side vibrated with the tone of a text message.

Arthur Larue 17:20 : Running a little late, hon- snow and traffic is all. Don't worry :)

Camille sighed, a mixture of joy and frustration in his light, feminine voice; he needed him for a variety of reasons. He needed to know that he was unharmed by the deployment- physically he was fine, albeit slightly injured after receiving the blow from a laser pistol at extreme range, as he revealed in one of their video chats two months earlier, but psychologically it was very difficult to tell. Arthur always had a calm, cool voice about him; how were you supposed to discern his stress levels when he never exhibited the normal signs?

Camille Lemahn 17:21 : Okay dear, I'll see you very soon. I dressed up all sexy for you ;)

Arthur Larue 17:21 : Oh? Dare I ask what you're wearing, lest my fantasies get the better of me?

Camille Lemahn 17:22 : Nah, you have to make it home first honey. Don't want you getting too excited ^_^

Arthur Larue 17:22 : I'll be right there, you teasing little minx ;)

And, not to be selfish (which, contrary to his own self-conscious evaluations, he wasn't at all in any significant capacity), but he needed some affection, too. He had been without his mate for nearly seventeen weeks, had been without the physical manifestations of their love, and without any release that was more taxing to his spirit that he was willing to admit. Feeling frustrated and pent up, he decided to use the restroom and apply a little makeup to his face.

A few knocks at the door mere minutes later made his heart skip a beat. Camille quickly ran across the house, his digitigrade paws carrying him at a pace both much faster and much quieter than a human's could allow. He pressed his thumb pad to the door's burgundy surface and it clicked, swiftly unlocking, and with a nervous and fevered speed he opened it. Arthur stood there in the doorway, his tall, well-toned body indistinguishable, with a massive grin on his face. He was dressed in his preferred civilian outfit in this dire cold, a long black trench coat with beige "busijamas"- a recent unisex fashion trend, wherein pants which resembled business slacks were made from a soft, pliable nanofabric, having the same consistency as pyjama pants, though without wearing them you wouldn't be able to discern the difference. He lugged a heavy equipment bag around his shoulder, presumably containing his military uniform, firearm, and any miscellaneous equipment he was permitted to take home.

Camille involuntarily let out a jubilant whimper, much like a dog whose owner has returned after a vacation. Arthur snapped his coat and removed the snow, quickly stepping through the threshold and lugging the heavy bag off of his shoulder and, with a melange of gentleness and carelessness, he tossed it across the strong tile of the foyer, performing the same action with his heavy trench coat. Camille closed the front door and shivered with a mix of boiling excitement and physical coldness. The human turned back to him, quickly embracing him in his powerful arms, the rich masculine scent and hint of his distinctive cologne hitting his nose.

"Camille," Arthur spoke quietly into his fox-cat ear, "Mon chou. How I've missed you..."

He smiled and pulled back slightly. "Embrasse-moi," he whispered, a sultry purr rumbling in his voice. Kiss me.

Arthur did exactly as requested, pressing his lips to the fox-cat's with a firm yet gentle touch. His tongue quickly joined in the foray, pushing into the Augment's muzzle and caressing his lingual surfaces, stroking those sharp predatory teeth and licking across that long, broad tongue that was both canine and feline, with a slightly rough texture. Camille returned in kind, engaging in the playful battle for dominance in between their mouths, finally tasting that flesh he had been missing for four unbearably long months. He moaned into their kiss, drawing a deep, ineffable pleasure from the moment. As Arthur's hands slowly caressed him through the dress, smoothing his hands over the small of his back and over the base of his tail, he moaned once more. With his air reserves quickly escaping him, however, he was forced to relent and let Arthur win, pulling back and quickly breathing for air.

Both lovers looked deeply into one another's eyes- yellow gazing into rich brown. A tear escaped the fox-cat's eye and he looked away ashamedly.

"Hey," Arthur said, placing a hand under his jaw and caressing the fur around his eye. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yes," he returned. "I- I just..." He kissed him again, pressing his muzzle to his lips and reengaging in the lingual battle. This one was somewhat less competitive, a series of shorter but no less deeper smooches, allowing them to catch their breaths more readily and less forcefully than they were required to before. Feeling overwhelmed, Camille pulled back after a long while, the human still firmly in his grasp- well, due to the size difference, it would be more appropriate to say that he was within the human's grasp.

"I love you, Arthur," he said, pulling him into another long kiss, his feline-canine tongue driving back into his mouth again.

"I love you, too, Camille." A few deep, deep kisses later the oven chimed a high note from the kitchen and Arthur sniffed the air, sensing the declicate cheeses and rich tomato purée, coupled with the tender spice of cooking beef. A smile caught his lips. "You didn't," he said with a hint of incredulity and excitement in his voice.

"Mm-hmm," he grinned. "I sure did. I knew you would love it."

Having just showered, that familiar and pleasant scent of cleanliness about him, Arthur forked the ziti, tasting the exquisite collection of cheeses and the homemade sauce his husband had saturated it with. The pasta was cooked to perfection, with a slight golden bake on the edge and a firm, moist bite nicely complimenting the meaty taste of the premium meat and the pleasantly herbaceous aroma of the sauce. "This," he said, "Is officially the best food I have ever tasted. Another exquisite dish you have prepared, love; thank you."

The Augment smiled, doing the same and tasting his laborious work. Upon tasting the melty baked cheeses and exquisitely prepared homemade pasta, along with the homemade sauce melange and high quality market beef, the fox-cat decided that he did, indeed, perform quite an admirable job. He took a lap at his glass of red wine, seeing as the glass' design was unfit for his muzzle geometry, and looked at the Christmas tree, its electronic lights glowing brightly in the adjacent living room, which were easily visible from their vantage point. Where they sat, at the little wooden table, wasn't exactly a "room" so much as it was a nook; the whole house, with its open nature, was all sort of one big "room," with the master bedroom, two bathrooms, guest suite and a few closets the only true hideaways in this luxurious countryside home.

"You know," Arthur spoke again, taking a drink of his wine glass, "After four months of constant travel, unnerving uncertainty, and with the only available food source being MREs, a nice, home-cooked meal is more than I could ever ask for." Camille felt a blush come under his fur and extended his hand across the table, squeezing his lovingly, to which he returned the gesture.

"I'm glad you like it, mon cher." He rubbed his socked paw under Arthur's pant leg, stroking across his tibia gingerly, extending his feline claws and playfully poking the human's flesh. "I'm also glad your back home. I missed you so much, Arthur, I could scarcely catch any sleep so worried about you."

He smiled, enjoying the sensation of his fox-cat's petite paw caressing his leg, but he felt a pang of guilt within him knowing that his husband had been in such a torturous state for so long. "I'm glad to be home myself. I only wish that I could have come sooner, but that's behind us now."

The Augment took another lap of his wine. "Very true; and what fortune we have that you could arrive on Christmas, of all days. I've gotten a few gifts for my lovely sniper." He enjoyed the way that word rolled off of his tongue. Sniper; it sounded so sexy when he said it like that, to think of how intelligent and powerful and strong his husband was to be accepted into such a demanding military position.

Arthur chuckled and squeezed his hand. "I already have the greatest gift right in front of me."

Camille blushed, feeling like his fur was on fire, and his paw caressed Arthur's leg once more, his bashful eyes looking away from him while a nervous smile crept up on his muzzle. "Oh, you heart warmer, you set my fur aflame."

"Well," he said, "It is frigid outside," to which they both laughed.

The pair opened the presents under the tree after dinner was concluded. Camille rewarded himself with a book- a rather steamy one, might it be added, the plot revolving around two spies who try to prevent the launch of a nuclear strike- and a few kitchen utensils to aid in his love of cooking. Arthur, much to his joy and appreciation, received some stylish new clothing selected by Camille, a new set of poker cards, a book on aviation and one on the French Revolution, and a new scope for his coilgun rifle, which he enjoyed firing at distant targets on the firing range off-duty. He thanked him and began to clean up the wrapping paper when his husband attracted his attention, nodding towards the back of the Christmas tree.

"I don't think we're quite through with the presents," he said coyly, smiling bashfully, trying to hide the rather obvious erection tenting his skirt.

"Oh?" the human asked curiously, dropping the papers and ribbons on the coffee table and fidgeting his hand around the other side of the tree near its trunk. He quickly came across a secluded wrapping of paper and grasped it; it appeared to be of a box shape, same as normal, making it difficult to discern why Camille was so coy about his opening it. To him, it seemed to have about the same weight, size, and mass distribution of a fragmentation grenade. Was it odd for him to have those thoughts on Christmas, especially in the presence of his spouse?

He flicked his eyebrows at him, a curious smirk on his face, and began to disassemble the wrapping, quickly removing the ribbon and tearing the paper. The gift was revealed to be a short, cylindrical bottle of a dark red complexion, a white heart in the centre of the curve. "Passionate Love," he read quietly, a blush quickly alighting on his face, "Natural water-based lubricant." A simple grin told Camille all he needed to know about his feelings towards the gift.

"You like?" the Augment asked coyly.

"Oh, very much so, my dear. Maybe we can... do a product test after we let dinner sink in." Smiling, with a very full erection tenting the pliable fabric of his pants, he arose and cleaned up the area around the tree, removing the discarded wrapping paper and disposing of it in the receptacle in the kitchen. He kept the ribbons in a box they kept on the shelf above the fireplace, designed to save any special souvenirs or ribbons they had received, and would receive in the future, while together. It contained all Christmas ribbons on their presents, all exotic stamps and foreign gewgaws Arthur had gathered on deployment in foreign countries, and any interesting knick-knacks the pair happened across while in their own travels, be they abroad or in France. They planned to go through it when they were much older and relive the memories, giving them a goal to which they could look forward.

For the next few hours they cuddled on the sofa under a blanket, watching the television and laughing at all the Christmas comedies playing on that special, snowy day. Most of them weren't really funny on their own right, but considering how momentous this occasion was, what with Arthur finally home from war (for however long that peace would last before he would have to return), their emotions were stimulated enough to earn more than a few gut-busting laughs from both of them. When A Christmas Story- traditionally their favourite holiday film, a view shared by many around the world- ended and the footage showed one of the child characters happily clutching his prized dirigible, Arthur didn't have the usual smile on his face. Instead, he stared off into the distance through the back door, gazing at the blackness outside, the snowflakes alighting on the nanoglass surface. His face had a slight grimace on it and he appeared as though he was deep in thought.

Camille hit the mute button and turned his attention to his spouse, caressing his back lovingly while he was huddled up on his side. "Are you okay?"

"He had a Zeppelin," he said quietly.

"What?"

"The- Randy had a Zeppelin." He sighed, his eyes becoming red and glistening, his voice entailing a hint of dejection.

"Honey," Camille said, "What about it? It's just a toy."

He sighed again and fought to keep his lip from quivering, his eyes welling with moisture. "There was a boy- when I was stationed in Laos, two months ago. There was a boy with a Zeppelin."

The fox-cat turned off the television, giving him a concerned look. "I don't understand, Arthur. What about it?"

***

October 17, 2084 - Northern Laos

"So, Larue," Sanders asked him over the comm in his rough, gravelly American voice, "You got a wife back home? Any pretty lady back home, waitin' for you in France?"

Arthur chuckled, his accent sounding nice and happy despite the egregious humidity he found himself in. "Yeah, you could say that."

"What do you mean? Nobody steady, or you just don't swing that way?"

"The latter option, I suppose. I have a boyfriend back home." He neared the edge of the snowy ridge. As he did so, he hit the power switch on his coilgun sniper rifle, activating the nanocrystalline battery and extending the barrel to its full length, a little over one hundred and ten centimetres. "He acts very effeminately and has an androgynous appearance about him, though, so you can't really tell. I've known him for just a tad under three years, and I love him with all my life."

"Well that sounds nice. What's it like though, having a, you know, man do that? Seems a little weird to me; he one of them transgenders?"

"Well," Arthur continued, "Being a man doesn't always entail a sense of masculinity. He's comfortable with his gender, and so am I." The part he didn't describe, of course, was his species; he believed, correctly, that Sanders would disapprove of such an unnatural union, so he sagely omitted its description.

"I can see that," Private Sanders returned. "Whatever makes you happy, right?"

"Right. What about you, any special lady back home?"

"Well, uh..." he deliberated. "Not really. I got my sister, I guess!" Immediately, both ends of the channel erupted with raucous laughter, ending with Sanders- an obvious chronic smoker- coughing heavily and wetly, signifying his lack of breath. After a short time of silence, amidst a few short breaths of recovery, Arthur spoke again.

"I'm at the ledge now, I can see you guys down there; let the sarge know." Below him lay a large valley, much like the one which contained his home, though this one was heavily forested and had a mist of moisture hanging above the treeline. The mountains on either side were topped with snow, though even in the wet chill of October Laos still lacked snow on the forest floor; global warming was the most probable cause. In his snow-camouflaged sniper armour, designed more in mind with position concealment than bullet and laser deflection, he lay on his stomach and extended the bipod attachment, digging into the snow to give his weapon higher stability. After checking the gyroscope mounted near the weapon's breach, directly adjacent to its centre of gravity, he determined that his weapon was stable.

"That's a confirmation on your position, Specialist Larue, over," Sanders said.

"Roger, Private Sanders, I read. Are you certain I shouldn't have a designated spotter with me? Over."

"Affirmative; sarge doesn't want to risk your position being compromised by an additional partner. Your weapon's targeting system is more than capable of performing the job autonomously, over."

He scoffed; as unfavourable as a one-man sniper perch sounded, he was right. The targeting equipment casted too much glare for a spotter to be able to maintain position concealment, what with the clouds darkening the hill he was perched on, making any glint emitted from a glass scope easily detectable down below. His weapon would have to suffice; however, considering he trained with it, he believed it would pull through. More likely, anyone encountered in the jungle would simply turn out to be peaceful Laos citizens running away from the war; his being in a sniper perch was just a contingency.

"Roger, I agree, over," Arthur returned.

"We are continuing our march. There's a village not too far from our position; our squad is going to check it out, we have reason to believe it's an IED manufacturing point, over."

"Roger, I confirm, over."

On the dirt road ahead of the five-man squad, not more than three hundred metres, lay the village, a small group of Quonset huts draped with bamboo exteriors, presumably either to provide a runoff for the frequent rainwater or as decoration. People in traditional South Asian outfits were in the village- Arthur counted twelve through his scope, though more were probably inside the huts- thick fabric pants and a sort of tunic, along with the Asian conical hat which around half of them wore.

Arthur flicked a switch on his scope, activating what was known as a laser interferometer microphone, or LIM. When activated, it fired a powerful infrared laser beam onto a distant surface, and from the vibrations rippling through the object, the computer could perform a Fourier transform, decomposing the vibrations and reconstituting them into an audio signal, thereby allowing a distant observer to eavesdrop on activity and conversations. The technology was somewhat temperamental, however, and wind or other slight vibrations could throw off the signal, generating incoherent static within the microphone. As the laser was painted on a distant window in the village, which the computer determined to be eight hundred and three metres away from his position, he heard what seemed to be loud, elastic snapping sounds, as though a whip were being cracked. There was a distinctive whine of a child crying in pain, and for a painful second he was reminded of how his father treated him after coming out with his sexuality.

Another crack and another squeal punctuated the line. He could hear distinctive yells of very harsh Asian tongue, though his lingual skills were lacking. He tapped a console on the side of his scope and opened the translation computer, seeing the sine waves of sound being decomposed and matched to their French equivalents so that he could comprehend them. As he attempted a translation, a strong gust of wind blew through the valley, not only dousing him in freezing, wet air but, more importantly, vibrating the living hell out of the window and consequently garbling the line with thick, impenetrable static. There would be no auditory scanning now, not with this damned algific wind obscuring the signal.

"Fuck," he muttered in annoyance. "Just have to let it pass."

His visuals, however, were unaffected by the atmospheric disturbance. Increasing the magnification on his scope, he peered at a burgundy-painted door that swung open and grabbed his attention. He saw a young boy, not more than nine years of age he supposed, sprint through it, his Asian complexion reddened by his continued crying. In his hands was a silver, highly reflective object which he recognised as resembling a toy dirigible.

But what did Sanders say about the village? Why was he crying, clutching that toy so fervently with a grip of death?

The squad was no more than a hundred metres away from the village, and rapidly closing in their quick jog.

Oh, shit.

"Sanders!" he shouted over the comm. "I have a boy, heading one-nine-eight from your position, one-zero-zero metres. He's carrying an object, what is it?"

Eighty metres.

"Your voice broke up, Larue, say again, over."

Goddamnit!

Seventy metres.

"Heading one-nine-eight from your position, seventy metres, a boy, carrying something! What is it?"

Sixty metres.

"Confirmed, engaging target. Standby for response and force-projection, over." He saw Sanders through the scope readying his rifle and aiming it at the boy, but to no avail. He simply continued running towards them, indifferent of the armed American soldiers. "Civilian! Stand down! I repeat, civilian, little boy, stand down!"

Fifty metres.

"What is it, Sanders?" Arthur asked fervently, aiming at the child squarely. "What is he holding? IED? Over." In his mind he reviewed the antiterrorism training he endured in Basic. Most IEDs had blast radii either comparable to or greater than that of a C4 charge, and were easily concealable inside common objects. They were commonly stuffed inside rice bags or children's toys in villages and remotely detonated as enemy troops walked near, killing many and wounding many more.

"Civilian!" he heard the private repeat through the open comm channel. "Stand down or I will fire! I repeat, stand down and drop the object!"

Forty metres. The boy kept on crying and running directly towards the nearby squad, ignoring all warnings.

Arthur breathed harshly, grimacing as he loaded the hypervelocity kinetic penetrator round into the coilgun's electromagnetic chamber. At a little under a kilometre, the distance it had to travel was trivially simple to compensate for, considering the projectile's hypersonic velocity. The choice wasn't.

Thirty metres.

I'm sorry. He made his choice.

"Civilian! I repeat, stand down or I will-"

He squeezed the trigger and a sonic boom cracked across the valley, a trail of diffuse evaporation ending squarely at the target a mere tenth of a second later.

"-fire..."

***

"And... just like that," Arthur said, trying and failing to keep the tears from coming out. "I shot him. I shot a little boy. I squeezed the trigger and watched- I saw his chest explode, saw his head fall off and roll on the dirt..." He caught his breath. Soldiers didn't cry, men didn't cry.

Was that really true?

"And when they examined the Zeppelin," he continued, "There wasn't even an explosive in it. I- I- I killed a kid over a toy- over a fucking toy..."

"Arthur," Camille whispered, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I'm sorry. I- I couldn't, not in front of everyone..."

Camille brought him into a hug, feeling warm wetness sop into his chest as they lay there on the sofa. He cried and cried and cried, and the fox-cat was briefly worried about the mucous stains likely accumulating on his dress, but ultimately discarded that modicum of trepidation. Providing comfort and assurance was infinitely more important. Camille just continued rubbing his back, hugging him tightly and letting him sob.

Eventually, after a long, long while his breathing became less erratic, his sobbing catharsis appearing to taper off to a lighter end, and he finally removed his head from the Augment's chest. "I'm sorry," he sniffled. "I didn't mean to do this to you, I jus-"

Camille interrupted him with a kiss. "Arthur," he said, holding his head in his hands and looking into his chocolate brown eyes. "Don't ever be sorry for telling me how you feel. You had no choice to do what you did; you couldn't have known there was no explosive. It was a hard choice, an unbearable choice, but you did what needed to be done. It's not your fault."

He sighed. "I know. But it doesn't make it any easier." He looked deep into his lupine yellow eyes. "Thank you." They shared another kiss, this one much deeper and more involved. The smaller of the pair removed the blanket and shifted in position, opting for a seat on the human's lap, straddling his legs to make such a position possible. He kissed Arthur deeply again, driving his tongue into his mouth and caressing the human's soft, pliable flesh. Feeling the man's erection begin to form underneath him, the distinctive bulge forming underneath his skirt and pressing on his panties, he ended the kiss and looked back at Arthur, happiness and compassion radiating from his yellow eyes.

"Je t'aime," Camille whispered. I love you.

"Je t'aime,aussi," he replied. I love you, too.

They shared another kiss and Camille reached towards Arthur's chest, beginning to unbutton the dress shirt he wore during dinner. One by one the buttons became unfastened, the obstructing fabric loosening across the man's tight chest. When the last one was undone, Camille grasped the fabric and pulled it over his head, removing the annoying thing and tossing it across the living room, exposing the man's tight musculature and well-built frame. He rose from his seated position and took Arthur by the hand, leading him up and walking towards the stairway; both parties knew their final destination. As they went past the coffee table, Arthur grabbed the deep red bottle of lubricant with his free hand, knowing _exactly_what he intended to do with it.

Soon enough, and barely avoiding losing their footing on the circular stairway due to their eagerness, they arrived at the master bedroom and stepped through the doorway. The bed was a large rectangle of memory foam and mimetic fabrics, with pristine white sheets which were surely soon to being very tussled and replete with wrinkles. Camille pushed him and he fell onto the bed, sinking into the magnificently comfortable mimetic fabrics. He climbed atop the human, kissing him along his lips; then, soon after, he kissed down his jawline and neck, planting them across his chest (and being careful to avoid the sore, healing tissue wound he received months earlier). With a deft extension of a feline claw, he swiftly removed the human's belt and unbuttoned his dress pants, sliding them off of his long legs. Next came the black briefs and socks, which, after a short while, joined the pile of clothes on the floor, leaving his tall, lean musculature fully exposed to Camille's senses.

His very impressive member stood tantalisingly high in the air, a thick drop of arousal appearing at the head. "Four months," Camille said, grasping it gently in his hand. "Four long, long months without you... or this," and he gave Arthur's scrotum a gentle squeeze, to which he returned a pleasured groan.

"You've no idea," Arthur said, "How much I've missed you."

"Oh," he returned, "That feeling is certainly not unrequited. Maybe I'll show you just how much I've missed you; how does that sound?" Upon concluding his question, he drew a long lick with his ever so slightly rough tongue, all the way from his perineum, across the scrotum and that mouth-watering shaft, to his glans, where he planted a loving kiss.

Feeling his shaft bathed in that familiar wet heat for the first time in aeons provoked an unbridled moan from Arthur. "T- that sounds lovely, Camille."

"Magnifique," he replied, immediately taking it into his muzzle, again bringing forth a pleasured moan from his husband. His head slowly bobbed up and down, up and down, his long, broad tongue going to work on the hard, slippery flesh. When it nudged against his purring, vibrating throat it sent a shock of ecstasy through Arthur's loins, providing the Augment with a lovely, melodious groan of pleasure and a gust of precum on his tongue. He lapped it up lovingly, savouring its thick, warm alkaline aroma; plenty of the fox-cat's own lubricating fluids were soaking into his panties, leaking out of his member by the extreme arousal he felt.

The human's hands had wandered down to Camille's head, stroking his hair and caressing his pointed ears like he knew he loved. The bass purring in his husband's throat increased twofold and they both moaned, the fox-cat looking up at Arthur with his loving lupine eyes. The pleasure began to swell in his loins and he couldn't help but moan as his husband bobbed up and down, tugging delightfully at his eager glans and rock hard shaft. A furry hand caressed his scrotum, squeezing and cupping the heavy organs. All the while their eyes remained locked, the room punctuated by slow, wet slurping and sucking, purrs and heavy ecstatic moans.

His flesh was warm and delectable, and he enjoyed feeling its girth press into his throat; the gag reflex was easy enough to supress, anyway. "Mmmm," Camille groaned, taking the human's cock in his hand. "I love the way you taste, dear," and planted a long lick from his perineum to his glans, feeling his hard muscles twitch under his tongue's hot, wet surface. He gently placed his thumb on his perineum and stroked back and forth, massaging his prostate from the exterior, earning a shudder and a deep moan.

"Oh, Camille- so close..." he whined.

"Oh?" he asked teasingly, immediately going back to his oral treatment. He took the human's flesh deep into his vibrating throat, tasting the copious emission of warm, thick lubrication landing on his tongue, which he greedily slurped into his maw and swallowed. He pushed his thumb pad a little harder on his perineum, nudging his prostate into further arousal, and the bubbling fire in his loins grew to unparalleled heights. The same occurred with his deep groans of pleasure, something which the fox-cat considered quite adorable- the cut, tall sniper whimpering defencelessly while his most impressive weapon, that of the one between his legs, was polished clean.

Suddenly his grunts and laboured breaths stacked and grew quickly in rapidity. Observing and using his best intuition, Camille squeezed his scrotum gently and pressed hard on his prostate, using his ravenously purring throat to his advantage and sending deep vibrations into his husband's flesh. Arthur groaned powerfully, his head tipping back, eyes going wide, muscles tensing and cock throbbing with effervescent potentiality.

Ecstasy.

Four pent-up months of pain, uncertainty, fear and dejectedness all evaporated and exploded from his loins, gushing across Camille's tongue in powerful, deliberate streams. The hot, thick and rich alkaline substance quickly flooded his muzzle and he greedily swallowed as much as he could, though copious volumes of the stuff still fired from his throbbing member and quickly inundated his muzzle once more, prompting him to hungrily swallow again. Eventually his moaning reduced in frequency, becoming little more than a whimper each time his husband dragged his lips up and down the tumescent shaft. Seeing that his orgasm was concluded, he gently removed the phallus from his mouth, cleaning it with his tongue to remove any excess fluids left behind. Camille closed his eyes and swallowed the tasty semen, smiling as it warmed his throat and left a sticky, gooey residue on his tongue- a lovely, warm and delectable residue, might it be added.

Arthur collapsed on the bed, exhausted and seemingly spent after by far the most powerful orgasm he had ever experienced, his limbs outstretched and mind abuzz with the wonderful sweetness of honeyed afterglow. He smiled, however, with the thought of Camille doing this to him. Swallowing his semen, which he conjecturally assumed probably didn't have the greatest taste, was such an intimate and, well, loving act. He really loved him, and it showed, not only with the dinner and sex but also the emotional support he needed. He wanted to describe just how happy Camille had made him, but with his heart throbbing, cock exploding, and brain abuzz with endorphins he could only formulate a somewhat intoxicated response. "Gughhh..."

The fox-cat giggled and licked his curved lips, cleaning himself. He climbed into bed and laid next to the human, embracing him and licking him affectionately on the nose, his fox-tabby tail swaying back and forth. "Somebody was pent up. Never could I imagine so much cum flowing from just one man."

They shared a short snicker, both of them dazed by endorphins. "You've no idea. You know how many little 'dreams' I had about us during lights-out, about me and my little fox-cat? How horny I got when talking to you and seeing your beautiful face through the camera?"

"Mmmm..." he replied, wrapping his socked legs around his and rubbing his soft, wet pantie-covered crotch up and down his thigh. "I can only imagine."

"You won't have to. Get on your back."

He did as commanded- requested, he reminded himself (though Arthur was usually the one in charge, their copulation was always done for mutual pleasure), and rolled on his back. The human planted kisses along his feline jawline, tickling the little whiskers and provoking giggles and chirrs, and began dislocating the dress straps from Camille's shoulders. Quickly enough he seized control of the dress, sliding it over his head and exposing his creamy alabaster fur to the cold winter air, leaving him in a vestigial black bra and matching panties, as well as arm warmers. The bra was dealt with easily enough, and, together with the arm warmers, joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor; the panties, however, is where Arthur decided to be a little teasing. He bent down and gently nipped at them with his teeth, pulling them off like a dog would. Marvelling at how soaked the garment was, he licked at the fabric and tasted the distinctive buttery sweetness of thick precum, teasing his lover's erect canine cock in the process.

"Mmmmm... someone is very excited."

"Oh, stop it, you little tease!" Camille giggled, playfully ruffling his chocolate hair, earning a playful growl from the sniper. He pulled off the wet undergarments and tossed them away, doing the same with those pesky Christmas leggings. As he peeled them off, he nibbled and licked at the fox-cat's little digitigrade paws playfully. He didn't have a fetish for them, of course, but showing a little love to his petite feline paws was a particular favourite of Arthur's foreplay sessions, and both parties enjoyed the little ticklish spice it added to their romance. He bent down and suckled on his primary set- one of three in total- of nipples, teasing them into hardness. Though he had no breasts, obviously, as well as a large knotted shaft, his neck-length, finely layered black hair and slender, curvaceous frame made him appear very womanly; the human considered that to be decidedly cute.

He slid down the fox-cat's body until he reached his shaft, giving the sanguine dog cock a teasing lick, tasting some of the deliciously sweet precum oozing from it. He nibbled at the base of the sheath, teasing the ultrasensitive knot, earning a mewl of surprise from the feline-canine hybrid. Smiling, he licked across his ivory-furred scrotum, licking down over the perineum to his little pink tailhole, provoking a gasp of excitement. One of the secret perks of being an Augment- as well as a Marine Specialist, as Arthur discovered during training- was the presence of personalised nanites in the bloodstream, administered by a doctor via a specialised injection machine. The sub-microscopic machines circulated in all bodily systems and were designed as a universal medical system, preventing all manners of infections and, in the case of injury, blood and fluid loss. A hidden perk was that the machines automatically cleansed all bodily systems and constantly dissociated virtually all cellular waste- including that in the gastrointestinal tract. This reduced to the pair- or anyone with nanites, really- being spotlessly clean in their most 'intimate' regions, an important consideration in a moment such as this.

His smooth tongue bathed the ring of muscle in wet heat, coaxing a deep moan of pleasure from Camille. Arthur firmly wrapped his arms around his furry hips, pushing his tongue past the tight ring and into the smooth flesh of his passage. He licked around somewhat randomly, with the ultimate goal being to stimulate as many nerve endings as possible. The taste of his smooth muscle was delectable, though that was hardly the tastiest thing he would encounter on this night.

Camille moaned when his husband removed his tongue from his tailhole, though the lack of wet, heated flesh made him feel somewhat empty. That feeling was immediately extinguished when a saliva-slicked finger drove itself deep into him, drawing out a whine of surprise and ecstasy; the feeling was only further enhanced by Arthur's smooth lips bobbing up and down slowly over his heated member. The pair locked eyes and the human let his cock slip from his mouth, his hand eagerly picking up where he left off, caressing his smooth red skin. The long, slick finger buried itself within him, getting dangerously close to his little love button.

"Feel good?" Arthur chuckled, admiring the sight of his husband lying on the sheets with his tongue lolled out.

"Oh, y- Ah!" he yipped as Arthur pressed hard on the nub of his prostate, sending a massive surge of pleasure rushing through his loins. His hand continued sliding up and down on the slick flesh, bumping against his knot every time. "K-keep doing t-that and I won't last much longer."

And that is exactly what he did. He resumed the oral treatment, thrusting that oozing canine shaft into his mouth and eagerly swallowing the gusts of precum it emitted. His hand strongly gripped the knot and pumped mercilessly; with the other, he pressed hard down on the prostate, caressing back and forth rapidly over the walnut-sized gland. A series of feminine feline mewls was quickly followed by a lupine howl as his barriers crashed under the weight of orgasm, his knot engorging with blood and swelling in the sniper's well-trained hand. The first gush of rich canine love burst into Arthur's mouth and filled it, the second, third, fourth and higher numbers only giving him more to swallow. Meanwhile, Camille whimpered and moaned while dumping everything he had into his husband's eager maw, gripping the sheets mercilessly and extending his feline claws.

His pleasure began to fade out, replaced contemporaneously by the fuzzed, beautiful haze of sweet afterglow. Arthur landed in the bed and cuddled up beside him, locking him in a kiss. Unfazed by his own flavour, he reciprocated, kissing him deeply while both their libidos rose back to arousal. Before long, after a brief interval of rest and cuddling, the fox-cat rolled onto his back once more and spread his legs, his sheath already beginning to slide back and reveal an eager canine erection. Arthur rose to the occasion and produced the sanguine bottle of lubricant from the floor, applying some to his member.

"You look so adorable like that," he smiled. Camille glanced at him with a faux set of puppy eyes and they both shared a laugh. "Ready to do some 'product testing?'"

He nodded. A moan escaped his muzzle as his tailhole was gently spread by his tumescent girth, quickly taking him in all the way to the hilt. Arthur pulled back, leaving an ineffable emptiness- and quickly thrust forward once more to the hilt, filling him completely and provoking an unbridled mewl of nirvana. His glans speared Camille's budding prostate and he whimpered as shocks of pleasure coursed through his loins. Arthur quickly built up a regular thrusting rhythm: In and out partially each time, leaving only his glans inside, before thrusting and taking him whole. Interspersed between this normal albeit ecstatic rhythm were, occasionally, powerful thrusts which would bury him inside Camille's passage and ram against his delicate prostate, each time coaxing out a deep moan. Gauging the Augment's reactions, Arthur timed these powerful thrusts whenever his husband expected them least, and that entailed a certain degree of thrill. All the while the two were kissing passionately, their tongues twirling around one another and exchanging tickles and strokes.

Camille's hand had wandered down to his member, and as the thrusting increased in pace he began tugging on himself. His knot was already swollen and engorged with blood, and every time his prostate was nudged it grew harder and more eager. It felt amazing. Arthur drove his thick cock deep, deep into his passage, spreading him wide like no other could. He began panting, feverishly approaching his peak.

The human wasn't far behind. His thrusts increased in both pace and franticness, his loins beginning to feel effervescent once more. That familiar burning began to reach a crescendo and he couldn't stop himself from grunting as he approached his second peak of the night.

"Oh," Camille moaned, "Ah, Arthur, I'm so close..."

He couldn't stop if he wanted to. He wanted- needed to fill his lover, to let his loins burst forth and claim him as his own. His loins twitched and he threw a kiss down on Camille's muzzle as he relented his willpower, driving one last thrust deeper than ever before, slamming him in to the hilt and spearing that bulging prostate one last time.

Camille felt the gush of warmth inside him, clamping down on his swollen knot and skyrocketing past the point of no return, and he covered both their bellies in his essence. Both moaned into the kiss as they rode out their combined ecstasy, warming one another from the inside as well as the out.

Collapsing in a haze of afterglow, cock still buried inside the fox-cat, the couple went limp and fell on their sides. Camille's warm, thick essence covered both their abdomens, though they gave it nary a thought as they entered the haze of afterglow. On second thought, it did, along with his fur, provide an excellent contrast of warmth against the cool winter air permeating the atmosphere of the countryside home, though the covers could accomplish that just as easily.

"Thank you," Arthur said after a long while of cuddling.

"For what?"

"For understanding; for listening. Thank you." They kissed.

"Je t'aime."

"Je t'aime,aussi."

They opted for a spooning position, Camille ahead of Arthur, and watched the snowflakes alight on the window.

"Hey," Arthur whispered. "How was the 'product testing'? Would you recommend it for... further usage?" He lightly nibbled on the fluff of his pointed ear, provoking an adorable giggle.

"Sure," Camille returned sleepily. "I'd give it a solid nine point five out of ten- but I'd like to try again just to make sure."

He ruffled against his soft, fluffy fox fur, and a purr rumbled in his chest as they drifted off to sleep- a uniquely canine-feline melange that only he exhibited. That only Arthur, the man who was so much more than a sniper, could ever savour.

A man and his fox-cat.