FSE

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"Ay! Who's up there! Git down!"

Recovering from the stumble that had left him slipping down the side of the orange-tiled roof up which he had been scrambling, Avran winced as a sharp pebble struck him on the rump. Looking back down over his shoulder, he could see the thrower, a mightily whiskered otter wearing a nightcap and an angry expression of his blubbery face leaning out of an opened window, arm drawn back to hurl another.

Fine, fine! I'm going!

Avran hastened his stumbling re-ascent as he then heard the tell-tale whistle of a stone passing all too close to him to be comfortable; getting pinged on the behind by a pebble once had been painful enough without adding the prospect of a second!

But ah, even if he had, it would all be worth it. He could once feel the admiration for the object of his moonlit quest, the dedication to the successful execution of his mission, swelling in his chest. Before his eyes swam a vision of her beautiful visage.

Countess Fleur.

Avran was wholeheartedly smitten. As was common with adventurous rascals with an abundance of passion in their hearts, it had only taken a mere glimpse of an object of their fiery affection to send them careening head-over-heels in puppy love. Since the very moment the handsome hazel-eyed orange fox had gazed upon the radiantly beautiful spaniel as she was conveyed through the streets via an elegant carriage, and she had smiled at him, he had been utterly--and perilously--captivated. Now here he was, scrambling over the rooftops of Medicina with an expensive red rose clenched between his teeth, a wrapped tray of truffles, and a hard-written note expressing his sincerest and most heartfelt admiration for her. After all, Avran did his best to convey himself as a gentlefox of good manners and breeding, and such tokens of romantic puppy-love were the polite thing to do. He kept his fantasies, considerably more lewd in nature and focused on the kind of sexual escapades he and the Countess might get up to, entirely to himself.

It did not matter to Avran that he was so far outside the rarefied social strata that the Countess and her noble kind occupied. Nor did he feel too self-conscious that his fashionably-baggy breeches were patched at the back where a blade had sliced into him during a less-than-successful encounter with the owner of the knee-high boots that said pantaloons were tucked into. Or that his shirt, open down to the centre of his chest to display his white fur, was a size too large for him. In the end, he still managed to cut a rakish figure, and his heart was in the right place. He was quick and clever, agile and dexterous, not to mention handsome and charming, and he had dragged himself up from the streets through these qualities to a life of adventure and the pursuit of romantic love, and a degree of comfort with which he was contented.

"Ow!"

Something screeched and flapped at him as he leapt from one roof to another and landed with a clatter--and a squawk. Talons dug painfully into his skin as whatever nocturnal wildlife he had disturbed took umbrage to being squashed. He very nearly dropped the rose over the gutter edge as he cried out, but managed to catch it in time and clenched it between his teeth once more and did his best to ignore the pain from the scratches he received.

Fleur was, after all, totally worth it.

Her villa was now in sight--and reach. Avran grinned as he looked up the white-stone walls of the Marcia residence, one of the fanciest villas in the city, rising up before him. With his rooftop vantage point--and a little luck--he could make it on top of the outer wall, drop quietly over the side and move through the manicured gardens until he stood before Fleur's balcony. Then, being the foot-sure fox lad he was, he would scramble up the sturdy vines and decorative facade, hop up over the railing, creep into the Countess's bedroom and leave his gifts for her to find when she awoke come the morning.

Perfect.

Had he not been quite as innocent to the appetites and practices of certain noble females, Avran may have been suspicious about why the wall was quite so easy to overcome, and the reasons behind the Countess's decision to grow scaleable vines beneath her balcony. For would it not make her easier prey for thieves? Perhaps he had wilfully blinded himself to the gossip and rumour that had placed her at the heart of bawdy tales? Surely a creature of such rarefied beauty and noble bearing could not possibly be any of the things that the songs said? Even though it certainly seemed to be common knowledge about just which_balcony and window belonged to her boudoir, should anyone wish to access it. Still, it was nonsense! Prattle-chattle and scurrilous gossip! _His Fleur was perfect. For she would be his, he was sure, and he hers. Star-blessed lovers in spite of their social differences and background.

Alley-oop!

Avran grunted through clenched teeth as he hauled himself up over the edge of the balcony and hauled himself over and onto his feet over the other side. Again, he had almost dropped the rose, which by now was looking a little more ragged than it had when he set out. But, it was the thought behind it that counted, as did the heartfelt declaration of love written on the notecard to accompany it. Such lengthy statements did not come easy to Avran when it came to writing them down, for while he was a literate fox, still a prized commodity amongst the city's commoners, he nevertheless spend the better part of a day carefully--and slowly--inscribing each word with ink and quill in his best handwriting.

Avran held himself as still as he possibly could be as he crouched, ears twitching left and right as he listened for any sign that his clandestine entry had been discovered. There was none. All was quiet aside from the sound of soft, steady breathing coming from within the ajar slatted doors and the gauzy drapes that kept insectile pests from entering. It was a comfortably cool early summer night and so, like many nobles enjoyed the cooler temperatures having such freedom and sense of security allowed them.

He had chosen his moment well. The guards that patrolled the villa grounds followed a strict route and were currently at the other side of the compound; there would be more than enough time for him to pad quietly in, leave his gifts behind, and then lower himself down over the edge of the balcony and the retrace his steps for a smooth exit.

Flawless.

Or so he anticipated. Sure of his immediate state of non-discovery, and with excitement in his honest heart, Avran crept forward and ever-so-carefully pulled open slatted door slowly open. He did so with just enough haste so no tell-tale creak would be heard, for he was seasoned now when it came to stealthy entries, often into the belongings of others when the cause felt justified enough--even if that cause was his own comfort. Being a rascal with a heart of gold, though, he tried not to take from those who had little enough already to call his own.

Creaaak...

Avran winced as he wriggled in through the gap in the door and nudged it that little bit extra he had tried not to. Holding his breath, heart facing, he froze and...then relaxed. It seemed the creaking of the door had not been enough to be noticed and the slumber of the Countess deep and undisturbed. He even managed a lopsided grin as he crept into her boudoir proper and caught sight of her beautiful, moonlit face.

"Oh my..."

Countess Fleur was as lovely as he remembered--even with the curled mass of lustrous chestnut hair spread out in an untidy pile around her face. He stood and stared at the latest object of his lust and love, and dreamily sighed.

Like all her particular noble breed of canine, Fleur's russet ears were long, softly-furred, and rounded at the ends. Her muzzle was long and narrow, dabbled with white markings that appeared hauntingly luminous in the pale light cast through the slats and drapes. She was nestled within the comfort of an exquisitely-wrought four poster bed and scarlet satin sheets.

Where to leave them...

Avran squinted and looked around the darkened room for a bedside cabinet on which he would leave his gifts. Spotting one, he carefully, quietly padded on the tips of his booted paws around the foot of the bed, holding his breath all the way. The thick pile carpet on which he stepped dulled his passage--something he was thankful for.

"Mmmhpsh..."

He froze and then ducked as the Countess stirred and mumbled to herself in her sleep. Heart racing, he tensed himself for a hasty retreat as she shifted in her sheets and then...settled again.

Phew!

Avran exhaled slowly through his nostrils as he once again relaxed and stood up. His resolve to follow through on his bold and passion-fuelled plan wavered as his mind traitorously considered the trouble he would find himself in were he discovered in the Countess's bedroom. Deep trouble. He forcefully pushed it aside and focused on the outcome, strengthening his resolve. Just a few more steps, that's it, and place the rose down, the truffles, and carefully fold his letter and slip it under the rose...that's it...

Done!

Avran grinned to himself, feeling exalted as he completed his mission. Now, he just had to escape, but not before stealing one last, lingering look at the object of his desire, and her lovely face...

"Mmm..."

Time to leave, Avran!

As the Countess stirred once more, Avran's resolve to stay and drink in her beauty for as long as he could, smiling as he imagined caressing her silky-furred cheek with the back of his hand and leaning in to press a kiss to the side of her muzzle, it broke. With as much careful haste as he dared, he crept around the bed, squeezing through the doors, and reaching for the balcony...

"Mmm, and where do you think_you're_ going, my handsome visitor...?"

---

Avran froze. The sultry voice behind him could only belong to one particularly lovely person: Countess Fleur. He felt dread creeping in to replace the smug, excited satisfaction that had gripped him as he left behind his gifts. It was not a particularly nice feeling.

"Well if you're going to sneak into my room uninvited, the least you could do is have the manners--and courage--to turn around so I can see you..."

All the bravado, all the confidence that had filled the romantically-inclined vulpine, seemed to have fluttered away. For all his ingenuity in gaining clandestine access to the private rooms of the object of his amour, Avran really hadn't given much thought to what he would do--or say--should he be discovered. He'd prepared no feasible excuse, or plain of action beyond running for it should be encounter a guard.

"Well?"

Avran cursed under his breath as he realised that he'd been lost in his own personal reverie. For now, it seemed to be best to do as she asked; curiously, Fleur had not immediately called for her household guards to detain or simply run him through for trespassing. She had even referred to him as a_handsome visitor_. Not an intruder. He slowly turned, raising his handpaws to the side of his head and spreading his fingers so she could see that he was not reaching for a weapon.

"That's it...good boy," he heard Fleur remark as he obediently turned around to face her. She had lit a candle, and he could see that she was now sitting up in bed. The sharp, golden glow illuminated her elegant, refined features and proud muzzle. The Countess's expression was...just as unexpected as her behaviour. Not hostile, more...curious, and most certainly amused.

The manners that Avran strove to conduct himself with asserted themselves again through sheer habit. He bowed, with a stiff flourish and watched her lips twist into a wry smirk at his awkward politeness. "G-Good evening, your grace."

"Good evening."

He had hoped that she would say more than returning his hesitant greeting; it was a situation that Avran felt less comfortable about leading than he did responding. What should he say? It seemed that Fleur was taking no small pleasure in his hesitation and the deepening silence that followed, if the mischievous twinkle in her eye was anything to go by. "Well uh," he began. Then he forced a smile, clearing his throat to try and shift the solid lump that seemed to have stuck there. "This is awkward."

"Indeed."

Damn you!

"I'm s-sure that you're wondering what I'm doing here, in your room...so late at night," he asked, lowering his voice a little for fear of attracting unwelcome attention from whatever staff might well be in earshot, and taking a surreptitious step backward toward the window.

Fleur chuckled to herself, a rich and fruity sound that matched her husky, refined voice. She then looked across and down at the offerings Avran had left for her on her bedside table, nodding at them and extending a hand to lift the rose, bringing it to her muzzle and taking a delicate sniff. "Mmm. I presume...it would have to do with...these."

Avran blushed. Part of him wanted to instinctively deny that he had been the one to place them at her bedside, but that would have been foolish. Especially if she had not been sleeping as deeply as she appeared to be and _had_been aware of his presence. To attempt to deceive her might very incur her wrath more readily than anything else he might do. "Y-Yes, your grace. They're...tokens of my esteem for you."

Fleur chuckled to herself after taking another sniff and inhaling the sweet fragrance of the rose. She gave him a steady look and raised an eyebrow. "Tokens of your_esteem_ for me? In that case, could you not have delivered them to me any other way?"

Avran felt an even deeper heat creeping up along his neck and cheeks as the full scrutiny of the countess fell upon him. Clearing his throat, he clasped his handpaws together behind his back to stop himself from fidgeting in her presence. "P-Perhaps it was a little more than esteem, your grace." Avran could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he summoned up the courage to potentially dig himself deeper into the hole he already felt he was neck-deep in. But, there was nothing doing but to give he a full and heartfelt confession--just like a true gentlefox of passion and romance would!

"Oh?"

"I...You, you are lovely beyond measure, Countess Fleur," Avran declared in as loud a voice as he dared. He could feel his usual confidence returning as he spoke, quelling the slight tremble in his limbs. "Ever since I first clapped eyes on you, my heart has swelled with passion beyond that for any other, either now, in the past, or in the future. And though I am but a lowly commoner, I still wished to leave these small tokens of my affection for you to, uh, find, come the 'morrow. I...I meant no disrespect, nor harm to your person."

Avran was proud of himself to only partly fluffing his heartfelt speech toward the end. It seemed to have impressed the Countess too--or so he hoped. The eyebrow had arched eyer and the amused twinkle in her eyes was even brighter now.

"I see, Sir Handsome Fox," she eventually remarked after several painfully slow seconds of contemplative silence, in which her smirk turned lopsided and ironic. "I must admit, though I have had a number of nightly guests in the past, for various reasons, not one of them has crept in through my window and left such...sweet little gifts for me. You have my thanks--and admiration for your audacity.

"Thank you, your grace," Avran gave her a stiff bow from the waist, purposefully choosing to forget the bit about 'a number of nightly guests in the past', still chivalrously steadfast in his belief in the unsullied purity of Countess Fleur.

Fleur gave the rose another contemplative sniff before placing it back down on the side table. "Due to your sweetness and gentlemanly conduct, Sir Fox, I have decided that I will not call the guards and have you dragged off in irons to the magistrate," she then declared matter-of-factly. "Where you would be publicly humiliated and punished."

"T-Thank you, your grace," Avran stammered. He had a creeping suspicion that there were impending strings attached to this 'mercy' granted to him. "I will take my l-"

"But," the countess stressed with a devious smile as she swung and wiggled herself around and over to the edge of her bed. "I will extract a toll from you."

"A T-Toll?"

"Mmm," Fleur murmured, now slipping one manicured, long-legged footpaw out of the bed and pointing a toe toward Avran and then down at the ground. "You will_tend_ to my paws."

Avran gaped, then blushed deeply as he looked down to the see one of the lovely footpaws in question. Rosy warmth continued to spread up his neck and along his cheeks as the implication sank in and just what kind of 'tending' would be required of him. His favourite kind.

Oh gosh, Fleur's paw...it's so pretty...

"Don't be shy, Sir Fox," Fleur indicated again with a paw, smiling in satisfaction as she saw the unmistakeable look of particular look of wantonness that only someone with a deep appreciation of paws would display when offered one. "I can already see that you have a fondness for giving due attention to a lady's paws..."

"I...I..." Avran's embarrassment could not be deeper than it already was. He couldn't take his eyes off Fleur's elegant, well-trimmed and clawed footpaw as the dizzying desire to indulge his particular fetish--and Fleur's, it would be seem--swept over him. His throat was tight and dry, his pulse was quickening, his loins were...were...

Oh gosh...

"A-As you say, your grace..."

With a soft, strangled moan, Avran's buckling knees gave way and he dropped to them before the object of his affection. Fleur let out a not unkindly amused chuckle as her handsome visitor acquiesced to her demand. She let out a pleasured sigh, shivering as her own anticipation for her particular kinky thrill to be indulged reached its peak. Sir Fox was such a handsome and sweet boy, and it really was courageous for him to have done what he had and genuinely touched her; perhaps there would be future clandestine visitations?

Avran's trembling fingertips reached for and stroked the narrow-limbed, delicate footpaw. He felt a particular little thrill as he first made contact with it, and spent more than a few moments just exploring the silken-furred paw and stroking along its contours, savouring the variations in texture--much to Fleur's delight. Like any good paw-lover, Avran searched for those particular hotspots that would bring the most sensitive pleasure, and sought to avoid those that tickled. He couldn't help but smile though as a couple of times, Fleur reflexively kicked out as her found a ticklish spot, and perhaps he may have very well done so purposely, eliciting a sulky huff from her as he teased those spots.

It was a moment of true bliss when he first brought his muzzle to the underside of her footpaw, inhaled the warm hint of floral perfume from the scented fur-oils and let his tongue dart out to lap across a soft-skinned paw pad. It made him blush afresh to hear the breathy moan from Fleur, and feel the reflexive curling of her toes around his muzzle as he set about tending to her paw in earnest, with her pleasured reaction spurring him on with greater confidence.

"Sir Fox," Fleur breathed out, panting slightly as Avran dragged his tongue from the larger pad all the way up to the tips of her claws. "You are certainly paying your toll...so attentive..."

"Thank you...your grace," Avran could only manage a breathless, distant-sounding reply as he lost himself in the soft-furred and well-clawed depths of her lovely paw. He was fully focused on paying homage to the beautiful spaniel's footpaw, so much so that he didn't really notice just how prominently aroused he was, with the tip of his maleness protruding and pushing against the crotch of his pants hard enough to be very visible--particularly to a certain mischievous countess.

"Perhaps...I will extract another from you," the countess purred in a devious tone of voice as she slipped the other, as-yet unattended to paw from under the leg of the one being oh-so-enthusiastically worshipped by her handsome visitor. "Mmm, yes, I shall do exactly that..."

"W-Whatever do you mean, your gr-" Avran's hesitant question was stifled the moment that he felt something warm, furred, and well-clawed pushing against the crotch of his pants. "O-Oh...my..."

"Pay it no attention, Sir Fox," Fleur smirked, now applying a little pressure down on the crotch of her attendant and rubbing her paw against the hardened member beneath. "Just a little game I enjoy playing..."

"A-Ah...o-oh..."

That...would be tricky. Avran's subsequent attempts to bring his full attention back to the lovely paw of Countess Fleur were made all the more difficult as she teased and worked his maleness with delicate, but relentless strength. It was difficult enough to think now, let along continue working his tongue across delightfully fluffy tufts of fur, pressing delicate kisses to those squishy black pads whose texture made him shiver when contrasted with the sharpness of her claws and the silkiness of fur. He was already aroused enough without the deliberate manipulations of...of...

Oh gosh, I'm going to...to...

He wouldn't...he couldn't! But he was...right there and then, he could feel the metaphorical pressure-cooker's lid rattling and threatening to pop right off. He let out a strangled moan, one muffled by the damp-furred toe wedged contentedly between his lips, the claw on the end scraping and curling against his tongue as Fleur panted and trembled with her own pleasured enjoyment of his oral ministrations. The smouldering gaze she directed his way as she worked the toes of her paws deeper into his maw and scraped across his tongue, and the smug, satisfied smile, they were so damn sexy; he let out another as he struggled against the compulsive urge to...to...

"Oh...Sir Fox! How _cheeky_of you!"

Relief, and a spreading damp patch in crotch where Fleur triumphantly worked her toes to sodden the fabric of his breeches and underclothes where the now-spent member had discharged its load, punctuated his orgasm and provided all the evidence that the oh-so-smug noble had won her naughty little game. Indeed, an additional toll had been extracted and in no small quantity at that.

It certainly wouldn't be the last time she and Avran would play this game together. Nor any of the other games she and her clandestine lover would enjoy participating in. Feeling like a certain competitiveness was healthy for their budding relationship, Avran would never reveal to Fleur when the next nightly visit from him would be, leaving the well-bred spaniel to fondly anticipate the tell-tale kiss on her cheek that would awaken her and the fragrant scent of a delicate rose, 'catching' the roguish fox in the act each time; sometimes she would protest ignorance of just who it might be. Avran didn't mind. It added spice to the much-anticipated rendezvous of steamy passion--and paw-love. It could never be said that Countess Fleur didn't have the most well-groomed paws in Medicina, for he anticipated giving the beautiful footpaws their proper and due care just as much as Fleur enjoyed receiving it from her 'Sir Fox'.

Her Sir Fox..it was worth the risks of being caught, of being 'dragged away in irons to the magistrate' as she continued to playfully threaten, to be called that, Avran reckoned. And as for her paws, his countess's lovely, silky paws...oh yes, they most certainly were...