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Chapter Three

Frank

Frank couldn't help but admire his handiwork.

The deck was all done and shining in the midday sun.

"It looks wonderful," Mrs Durrence cooed. "You've done a splendid job, hasn't he everyone?"

Frank turned to see everyone nod and murmur in agreement. He couldn't help but wag his tail.

"I'm glad you found the time to do it," Mr Durrence added as he began pouring charcoal onto the barbecue.

"Now that they're filming the movie up at Threapleton I've been out of a job," Frank explained. "They don't want as many staff there, basically so we don't get in the way of the set."

"Ah, well I'm sure you'll find plenty of other things to do with your new business," Mr Durrence said before pulling out a match to light the barbecue.

Frank nodded and glanced around the garden as he sipped from a bottle of ale. It was full of middle aged people all chatting, gossiping and fanning the midday heat away with their paws. The celebration was being held to commemorate the fact the Durrence's had just had their garden landscaped, and that included the new deck Frank had helped to build.

As a black furred wolf, the heat sometimes bothered Frank, but he had become accustomed to working outside. He was wearing a button up shirt (with the top two buttons undone exposing a muscular chest) and chino shorts. Smart clothes, but enough to keep the heat away.

Mrs Durrence was chatting animatedly to his mother. Her son Oliver was texting on his phone. The teenage Border Collie was standing to one side, looking rather bored.

"Speaking of Threapleton, Francis have you met Philip Denton? He's my uncle but he's staying here for the weekend as he was doing some research on the Threapleton family," Mrs Durrence said, leading an elderly looking Border Collie with a greying muzzle over.

"Well, I was supposed to do that but the filming there rather got in the way," the Collie replied in a very well-spoken voice. "Hello, I'm Professor Philip Denton."

"Francis Trelawney," Frank replied, shaking the canine's paw. "Or Frank for short. What are you a professor of?"

"History," Professor Denton chuckled. "I'm also a mind reader you know," he added, leaning in close.

"I see," Frank replied, taking a sip of ale.

"You must be an ex-military chap," Professor Denton said.

"Well, I was almost," Frank sighed. "How did you know, mind reading?"

"No, no. I did my national service near here, so I recognise your type."

Frank smiled as he started to wonder if he'd stepped into a scene from an Oscar Wilde play.

"Mum, can I ask Gareth over?" Oliver asked.

"I don't see why not," Mrs Durrence replied. "I did invite Claire," she added, turning to one of her friends. "But she said Anthony wanted help entertaining an important client coming to look at the cider plant."

"I hope Claire is settling into the village, I mean I don't see her out often," Frank's mum said.

"I imagine she's quite devoted to Anthony at the moment," Mrs Durrence replied. "He's a charming man, especially with all the community stuff he does around here."

"For how long? He's on wife number three now," Mr Durrence grinned.

"Oh, pipe down John," Mrs Durrence sighed. "And she brought her son Gareth along, he seems like a nice lad."

Frank couldn't help but grin to himself as he listened to the conversation. He knew Gareth was the only other gay guy in Little Hartbrook, something he knew owing to the fact Gareth had made a Prowlr account and tried flirting with him. As cute as the young husky was, Gareth had been a little too young at the time so Frank politely declined his lewd (and unintentionally comical) advances:

Hey there wolfie ;)

Hey there.

So handsome, what are you up to tonight? ;) xx

Just watching TV

Oh ;), mind if I join you and sit on your lap, or you sit on my face. Bet a handsome wolfie like you has a thicc monster

How old are you exactly?

*HornyHuskyBoi is offline*

Frank had often spotted Gareth hanging around the village with Oliver and wondered if the young husky had finally found a boyfriend.

"Who is that, the fox on the ladder at the Lanes' old house?" someone asked.

Frank was shaken from his thoughts and glanced over in the direction of Honeysuckle Lodge. The garden of the other cottage backed onto the Durrences' place and was visible through the hedge. As Frank had worked on the deck, he had often looked over, recalling all the memories he had of playing there as a kid.

And then when you and Marcus became teenagers...

Frank shook the second thought away as he moved closer to see what everyone was looking at.

The unmistakable figure of a fox was standing halfway up a ladder against the back wall of the cottage. The fox was wearing a very low-cut pink and grey striped tank top and black denim shorts. The arm holes of the tank top went half way down the fox's torso while the shorts looked shorter than the underwear Frank had on.

"It's Marcus Lane," Mrs Durrence explained. "Darn, I should have invited him over too, but I assumed he'd be busy working on the house, but I hope he doesn't feel left out if he turns to see us all in the garden."

"Gosh, he has changed," Mrs Hinchcliffe mused.

"I know, he has all these piercings in his ears now," Mrs Durrence replied in a horrified whisper.

"You used to play with him, remember Francis?" Frank's mum remarked.

Play is one word for it.

"Doesn't he write books now Anne?" Mr Durrence said, as he tried clawing open a packet of halloumi. "And works as a journalist."

"That's what I heard," Frank's mum nodded.

"Look at those shorts," a vixen said, gazing at Marcus with a mixture of shock and allure while her husband fixed her a perplexed look.

Oliver had pulled out his phone and was talking earnestly.

"Gareth get over here, Marcus is at his house!"

As Frank watched, Marcus tried climbing down the ladder, perking his butt out in the process and showing off part of his crack.

"Well, he's certainly getting into the part of a construction worker," he chuckled to himself.

As Marcus neared the lower rungs he gave a yelp, fell down and disappeared from view.

Everyone gasped.

Frank instinctively set his drink down, ran over to a gap in the hedge and vaulted through it, which would have been ninja-like apart from the fact he brought several twigs through with him.

There was no sign of Marcus in the garden, but the back door of the cottage was wedged open.

"Marcus!" Frank called, not wanting to alarm the fox.

There was no reply.

Frank frowned and made his way through the garden. The grass was unkempt, but as he looked around, the garden brought back memories. The green painted garden shed, which was now looking rickety. The swing and play house in the branches of the beech tree both seemed surprisingly intact.

Frank paused by the shed, smiling as he remembered what went on inside it.

"Here, close your eyes. It's okay Marcus."

"What are you going to do?"

"This."

Frank closed his own eyes as he remembered the feel of their muzzles meeting for a kiss, the gentle wetness of it and the texture of the inside of Marcus' muzzle as he slid his tongue into it.

"Can I help?"

"Fuck!" Frank exclaimed as he glanced up to see Marcus standing in the back door.

The fox was rubbing his thigh and fixing Frank a suspicious glance before his eyes lit up.

"Frank Trelawney?" he said in disbelief.

"Yup," Frank replied with something close to a grin. "What are you trying to do?"

"I was checking the thatch," Marcus explained. "I wanted to make sure it wasn't sagging, and I think a dove has decided to make a nest in the roof."

"And falling off ladders," Frank chuckled, earning a frown from Marcus.

He turned to see everyone peering through the gap in the hedge.

"He's fine!" Frank called, giving them the thumbs up.

"Tell him he's welcome over for a drink and a bite to eat," Mrs Durrence shouted back.

"Is there a party going on over there?" Marcus asked. "Jesus, they didn't see me fall off the ladder did they?"

"I don't think so, you're fine," Frank claimed, trying to hide any hint of a sheepish tone in his voice. "Actually, are you fine? You must have taken a tumble."

"I am, just bruised my butt, and no sex jokes!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Frank replied with an awkward smile. "As for the thatch, there's a guy I know over in Fildown who can look at it. In fact I called him over to have a quick look after your mum had her, erm, accident. He said all was fine, but you'll probably want him back to treat it with fire retardant."

"Thank you," Marcus replied. "Well, now you've invited yourself over I suppose I'd better let you in."

Marcus turned on his hind-paws and limped back inside. Frank followed him.

"Same old sassy Marcus," he sighed to himself.

As he stepped over the threshold he heard the sound of music drifting from somewhere.

Believe me you really don't have to worry I only wanna make you happy and if you say "hey go away" I will But I think better still I'd better stay around and love you

Marcus was standing in the kitchen. He had pulled off his shorts, exposing a pair of skimpy _Addicted_briefs, and was pressing an ice pack to the back of his leg.

"Oh shit!" he exclaimed as he saw Frank walk into the house.

Before Frank could say anything, Marcus hurried from the kitchen, dripping water from the ice pack all over the floor.

"I've seen you in your underwear before," Frank shrugged.

Although that is a cute little pair.

"No, I meant to turn the music off," Marcus' voice replied.

The music stopped with the sound of a record scratch and the fox reappeared. He fixed Frank a watchful expression as he tugged his shorts back on.

"Nothing wrong with listening to music," Frank reasoned.

"It was my mother's record collection," Marcus said as a melancholic expression flashed across his eyes. "I used to dislike that song when she played it when I was kit, but I felt like putting it on." The look of sadness was replaced by one of suspicion. "So, I suppose I'd better be polite and how have you been?" Marcus asked tersely. "You were joining the army, right?"

"I was," Frank sighed. "An injury during training put an end to that, I then took a horticultural degree and work as a groundsman over at Threapleton Manor, and then I took an interior design course and now run a small maintenance business renovating or fixing up stuff locally."

"I imagine that keeps you busy," Marcus replied.

"And now you're a writer over in the States," Frank said. "Didn't you write the gay column for New Century?"

"Yes, but I was replaced by a hyena with purple dyed fur, so apparently I wasn't gay enough for them," Marcus shrugged. "Wait, how did you know that?" he added.

"Oh, no reason," Frank shrugged.

"Hmm," Marcus muttered. "Did you write to me?"

Frank shifted on his hind-paws.

"Should have guessed, Francis from Cirencester, asking the ideal tips for a first dinner date. No doubt you were at the agricultural college there?" Marcus said, putting his paws on his hips, cocking his head and fixing Frank a smirk.

Frank was tempted to say for a klutz you can also be pretty intelligent sometimes, but held his tongue, knowing the last time he had said similar to Marcus it had ended badly.

"So, what are you going to do with the house?" he asked instead.

"I plan to do it up, sell it and be on my merry way," Marcus explained. "You wouldn't be interested in buying it I suppose?"

"I would if I could," Frank replied, as his mind drifted off to another vivid memory of eleven years ago in Marcus' bedroom upstairs when the fox's parents had been out.

"There's no such thing as too much lube."

"Um, Marcus if I put any more on my cock I can't keep it up. I've never done this before."

"Neither have I, but you're a wolf, wolves are hung. It'll still feel good."

"Very well then. Are you scared?"

"No, just do it."

Frank looked down at Marcus' tail hole. The bare pink skin among the orange fur was exposed and spread out. The fox's underwear were around his ankles and Marcus was glancing over his shoulder, fixing him that ridiculously silly grin only he could pull off. Frank gritted his teeth as he tried easing his cock into Marcus' hole. The first couple of attempts missed, and then he felt the weird yet strangely unmistakable feeling of him entering a guy's tail hole for the first time. Marcus closed his eyes and gently moaned into his pillow.

"You okay?"

"Y... yeah, keep going stud."

Frank began thrusting in and out as Marcus continued to moan.

"My fur is getting all covered in lube," Frank growled.

"I love you Frank, oh I love you!" Marcus gasped, utterly oblivious.

Frank closed his eyes as he continued to thrust, burying his cock deeper into the fox, gripping Marcus' hips and biting down on his neck fluff. He quickened his thrusts and Marcus' moans grew louder.

"Frank?"

Frank found himself being dragged back to the present.

"Sorry, I drifted off."

"Yes, I think you did," Marcus grinned, glancing down at Frank's crotch. Frank looked down and saw a slight bulge in his shorts. "I can imagine what you were thinking of, and don't get any ideas. That was a long time ago."

"Oh don't worry, I won't," Frank insisted. "You're with a new guy now?"

"Not anymore," Marcus sighed as he turned to look out of the window.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, he hurt me quite badly," Marcus reasoned. "I seem to attract a lot of men who do that."

"Was that a dig at me too," Frank chuckled nervously.

"Not really," Marcus said, turning back to face Frank. "As I say, that was a long time ago."

"True," Frank replied with another nervous smile.

"Say, you do maintenance," Marcus asked. "How much would it cost if I borrowed you to work on Honeysuckle Lodge?"

"That depends on what needs doing?"

"Make sure the thatch if fine, sort the garden out, a bit of repainting, new wallpaper upstairs as the old stuff is peeling away, oh and new cabinets and counters in the kitchen. I'd like to go for marble or granite rather than the circa nineteen seventy three Formica shit my parents always had. Basically make the house ready for sale."

"I can certainly do some of that, the others I can find you some good contractors locally," Frank explained. "If you're trying to do the place up I'm sure they'll turn it into a snazzy second home for some Londoners to buy."

"You disapprove of my plan?" Marcus asked with a wry grin.

"Eh, having lived here most of my life I find it sad the old character of the British countryside is disappearing. It's all second homes for snotty, holier than thou city folk who sneer disapprovingly at the locals they are pricing out of the market," Frank replied with a shrug.

"Well, I'm sure I was one_old character_ you didn't mind disappearing, and I don't remember you being all loving of the countryside when we were growing up. You planned to escape when we were teenagers," Marcus chuckled.

"I tried living in a city, couldn't stand it," Frank said. "I found out that beyond a wider selection of men who all had the same tastes in everything, being gay doesn't mean I had to migrate to an urban landscape."

"You'd hate San Francisco then," Marcus shot back with a grin. "Which is why I love it there, more nice guys and no chance of you showing up on my doorstep."

"Charming, well I'd best get back to the party," Frank sighed. "I have business cards now, so send me an email with an exact list of things you'd like me to do around the place," he added, pulling his wallet out to hand Marcus a card.

"You must be the only person under the age of thirty who carries business cards," Marcus replied as he took it. "But thank you."

"Well, it's how people know who I am or know how to contact me," Frank reasoned. "Anyway, I'd best be off. Mrs Durrence said you're welcome to come over too, she felt guilty she hadn't asked you over."

"That's nice of her, but I'll stay here and continue working. I have an article for a new magazine I'm with I need to write too. This snotty city boy isn't quite in the mood for scones or tea in Victorian cups."

"It's actually a barbecue, but fair enough. Look after yourself Marcus and take care, especially when you're climbing ladders."

"You take care too," Marcus said as he limped off.

Frank stood still for a moment, wondering whether to try jumping through the hedge again or take the front door.

The front door was probably a more polite and dignified option.

Frank walked through the hallway, noticing Marcus had (rather clumsily) daubed some paint samples on the wall. The family photographs that lined the staircase were thankfully still hanging up and the antique umbrella stand with the eagle's head was still by the front door. He couldn't help but simultaneously smile at the small details and worry about what Marcus might do to them.

He reached for the front door handle and paused, wondering if he could hear what sounded like sobbing or sighing upstairs.

"Marcus?" Frank called cautiously, before making his way up the stairs.

The sobbing sound stopped as he reached the landing. The door to Marcus' old bedroom was open and Frank peered around the corner.

Marcus was kneeling on the floor, looking at a collection of old books and model cars, no doubt keepsakes from when he was a kit. He turned and immediately put on a defensive expression as he noticed Frank.

"So, what brought you back?" he asked, putting on a casual tone.

"I thought I heard something," Frank explained. "Never mind, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You know, I used to want to get away from here, but now I have a hard time trying to get rid of anything in this house," Marcus sighed.

"You don't have to," Frank said hopefully. "Keep them as keepsakes, moving doesn't mean erasing everything, take everything in this room to America if you can."

"I guess you're right, and I have more space now I'm single pringle. You know I can't believe I'm confiding this to my ex-wolf of all people," Marcus replied with a mirthless chuckle.

"Here," Frank said, pulling his phone out.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving you my personal mobile number so you can call me and you'll be priority and not have to wait for an email response," he explained. "I'm not just ex-wolf, as you say that was a while back. I'm now mister fix it and bringer of business cards, or someone who listens if you have problems," Frank added, trying to smile reassuringly.

"Thanks, I guess. But don't get any ideas mister. Just because you're helping me with the house doesn't mean we're going on a coffee date anytime soon."

"I'm not expecting one, but take my number, for business purposes," Frank chuckled. Marcus rolled his eyes as he took Frank's phone and keyed the number into his contacts. "I'm heading off to be social. Message me if you have any questions."

Marcus nodded and Frank made his way out of the house.

He could help but grin to himself as he walked back round to the Durrences' cottage.

"Was he all right?" Mrs Durrence asked as Frank walked back into the garden.

"He'd only hurt his pride," Frank explained.

"Not terribly injured then?" Mr Durrence called.

"Not at all."

"He seemed like a very interesting character," Professor Denton mused. "Wearing all those bright colours."

"He, my dear professor, is what you'd call a homosexual," Frank said dryly.

"Oh of course, I never doubted for a second. I teach at a college, so I meet all sorts of people. I might be old, but I'm certainly not sheltered," Professor Denton laughed. It wasn't a mocking laugh, but one that put Frank at ease. "I can tell by that smile on your muzzle that you knew him well."

"I did," Frank said wistfully. "The fact you said knew tells me you have an inkling of what went on."

"I told you I was a mind reader," Professor Denton replied with a wink. "Your smile was happy, but also spoke of loss, as did your sarcasm, although it's certainly not my business to inquire what the history between you is."

"If you want to know, the last time we had a full conversation was outside Mrs Bartle's cottage on Clackett Lane. I said sorry Marcus, I really love you, but we can't go on," Frank explained before shaking his head in amusement that he had shared this with the professor.

Professor Denton gave another warm chuckle before squeezing Frank's shoulder.

"I imagine it was quite a sight for Mrs Bartle," he said.

"Probably, but she's been dead for five years so I don't have to feel embarrassed," Frank shrugged.

"Love eh, it's a strange thing. If you like him I'd say you stand a chance, you're a handsome chap. Now, I'd love to continue talking but I think we're being summoned to eat."

Frank glanced over to see Mr Durrence setting the cooked food out.

He smiled with bemusement before walking over.