Finality
Another old story to upload. Rather a dark one. Two lovers meet their end.
October in the city. The few trees Malcolm could see from the window had shed most of their leaves, though some orange and brown stragglers remained. How he longed to be out there, for one more chance to feel the breeze through what remained of his fur...
"Mr. Cook, what have we told you about getting out of bed?"
The stoat grunted and coughed, grabbing onto the pole his IV was suspended from. "I wanted to see the leaves," he said, standing his ground as firmly as his frail body would allow.
Malcolm felt a small paw grip his arm, and found himself being led back to his bed. In his healthier days, this damned mouse wouldn't have found him quite so pliable, but his body was too weak to resist. Without a word, he let her lead his trembling frame to the bed.
As soon as he was back in the bed, he looked at the nurse. "He's coming today, you know."
"Of course he is, Mr. Cook," the nurse replied as she pulled up his blanket. "So we should keep you warm and comfortable for when he gets here."
"You don't believe me," the stoat said. "He's visited every week. This one won't be different."
The mouse sighed, and without another word, left the room.
Malcolm turned his head to stare out the window. The view from here wasn't as nice. The tops of a few buildings. An overcast sky. A little dot in the distance. Probably a plane. How he missed planes. Visiting exotic lands. Seeing ancient temples in Cambodia, the sights and sounds of London and Paris, the crazy nights in Rio... he'd give anything for one more chance.
A knock at the door caught his attention. He flicked his ears and turned his head, a smile spreading across his face.
"Hey, babe." At the door stood the familiar tall frame of the otter whom Malcolm had married. His jacket was partially unzipped, a paw still buried in his pocket.
"My Jackie," Malcolm said, raising a paw to reach for the otter.
Jack grinned and crossed the room, taking hold of his lover's paw and leaning in to give him a kiss between his ears.
"Not on the lips?" Malcolm teased.
"Still coughing up blood?" Jack asked.
As if his body knew the reply, the stoat coughed. He could feel the metallic tang of blood at the back of his throat, and gave a sad smile. "Docs say this is probably it. Seventy-two hours, maybe less."
Jack forced a smile as he gazed down at the deteriorating body before him. He wanted to put on a brave face, but his eyes... his eyes shimmered. His heart was breaking.
"I brought you a present," Jack said, withdrawing his paw from his jacket pocket. He moved around so he was standing next to his partner, and brought his smart phone down close to the stoat's muzzle so he could see the screen.
"I've seen your phone before," Malcolm said, forcing a chuckle between another cough.
The otter chuckled himself as he unlocked the screen. "I know... but you've not seen this." A few taps at the screen, and a video came up.
Malcolm raised an eyebrow, and his jaw dropped as the face of his sister appeared on the screen.
"Hey, little bro!" came the familiar voice. Damned phone had a great speaker. Sounded exactly like he remembered her. "Sorry I couldn't come to visit. Life's been crazy," she spoke into the camera. She turned and waved to someone off screen. "Bucky, come say hi to uncle Malcolm!"
A tear came unbidden to the stoat's eye as his nephew appeared. He wore the blue starred pajamas that he and Jack had bought him for his third birthday. The boy beamed into the camera and waved. "Hihi, unka!"
The female put an arm around her son and pulled him in. "He adores these jammies you bought him. Take care of yourself, bro. We love you." She looked at her cub and kissed his cheek, then looked back at the camera, pointing toward it to direct the little one's attention. "Say bye bye to uncle."
"Bye bye, unka!" the cub said, waving with both paws at the camera. He was so naive. He didn't know he was saying goodbye to his uncle for the last time. Just all smiles and giggles. "Wuv you!"
The video ended, and Jack returned the phone to his pocket. "She wanted me to show you that."
Malcolm grabbed Jack's paw. He squeezed as tight as he could, but he could barely hold on. "I'm sorry..."
The otter shook his head and leaned in to nuzzle the stoat. "Don't be. You're an amazing man. I'll always treasure our time together, even if it isn't as long as we'd hope."
The stoat felt another tear roll down his cheek. He knew that Jack had wanted cubs of his own one day. To raise them together. That wouldn't happen now. Fucking virus...
"Promise me... you'll find someone new," Malcolm whispered.
"I don't think I could love another man like I loved you, babe," Jack replied.
"You're bisexual. Find yourself a girl, then. Maybe a nice single mom with a cub who's a few years old so you can skip the diaper phase," the stoat said, his body trembling from a combination of mirth and a fever chill.
"Heh... maybe," Jack said, nuzzling the stoat's cheek. He looked up and out the window, then over at the door, before his gaze finally returned to his lover. "Must be boring here... been able to get off?" he whispered.
A silly grin spread across the stoat's muzzle. "I barely have the energy to get up. You think I can jerk off?"
The otter chuckled. "Fair point." He glanced to the door again, then down at Malcolm. "Want to?"
The stoat raised an eyebrow. "Don't do anything stupid. You dodged the bullet... keep it that way, damn you."
A cheeky grin spread across the otter's muzzle, and he walked to the door, casually shutting it before wandering back to the bedside and slipping a paw under the stoat's sheets. "Wouldn't dream of it," he said as he fondled the male's sheath.
"Mmm... that's a good otter," Malcolm murmured, a shiver running down his spine as his body reacted to his lover's touch.
Jack eased the blanket down, then pulled up the stoat's hospital gown, revealing his sheath. He noted that Malcolm's legs looked skinnier than even last time he had seen him, and felt another pang. This was probably their last day together. Better make the most of it.
A little more fondling, and the stoat's red tip emerged from his sheath.
"Good to see there's still some life in this, at least," Jack quipped, smiling down at his husband as his paw teased and fondled his lover's genitals.
"Damn right," the stoat replied, smiling weakly up at the otter. A soft moan escaped his muzzle as he felt that strong paw wrap around his length. "Gods, I've missed you..."
The two locked eyes, smiling at each other through the pain of knowing that this was the end. Jack grabbed one of Malcolm's paws with his free one, squeezing the bony fingers as his other paw worked the turgid flesh in its grasp. A final kindness for a dying fur.
Malcolm's eyes fluttered shut as he focused on the feelings in his groin. Thank the gods he could still at least enjoy sex, that his senses weren't that dulled by pain and illness. He could feel the otter moving, then planting a light kiss on his belly. The otter released the stoat's paw... and a few moments later, warmth engulged the stoat's member.
"Ah!" Malcolm looked down, his eyes popping open as he saw the otter's head between his legs. "Jackie, no, what are you..."
His words trailed off as the otter pulled his muzzle back and gave a playful grin. It took the stoat a few moments to realize that his penis was a different color than usual. That crafty otter still hadn't lost his ability to put a condom on with his muzzle.
"Satisfied?" Jack whispered.
Malcolm closed his mouth and nodded, shutting his eyes as he prepared for what was coming. He wasn't disappointed. Once again his member was wrapped in warmth. Even dulled by the thin layer of latex, it was far superior to his lover's paw. Not that he wouldn't have been satisfied with a simple paw job, but a blow job was so much nicer...
A frail paw wrapped into the otter's headfur, gripping it gently as the stoat bucked his hips. The warmth of his muzzle, the soft suckles and slurps, even the bursts of hot air against his balls as the otter breathed deeply through his nose, felt heavenly. For a few precious moments, Malcolm forgot that he was on his death bed.
Then his body rebelled. Malcolm coughed, and a rush of bile filled his muzzle. His eyes popped open, terror streaking across his face. The stoat was alone in his room, his mouth full of searing acid, and he couldn't find the strength to so much as turn his head.
His arms flailed. Where was that damned call button?! His ears rang with a cacophony of beeps as his blood pressure and pulse fluctuated wildly. An inhale against his will, and the stoat's lungs seared. No... not like this!
Stars flew before Malcolm's eyes, and his vision clouded. He was vaguely aware of the nurse rolling him onto his side, of the doctor rushing in. Medical jargon that his brain was too fogged to comprehend. And then... silence.
Twelve blocks away, a few bored New York police officers stood around a roped off section of sidewalk. Blue lights flashed over the scene as a detective oversaw a couple of paramedics scraping the body of an otter off the sidewalk. A jumper from the fourteenth floor.
"Oh boy," the detective muttered. As the medics lifted him up, it was quite clear that the jumper had landed right on his muzzle. His face was a bloody mess. "We might have a hell of a time making a positive ID."
They laid the corpse in a body back, and the detective took a look.
"Seems like he's got something in his paw," he said, and carefully opened the otter's fingers. It took him but a moment to identify it as a letter. He gave it a quick look. Public health warning about a positive HIV test, addressed to one John Cook.