FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Incidentally, this story takes place in the same universe/world as Group, but in a different country (roughly where Turkey is in our world, while Group takes place in the analog of the US).

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"Are you going to buy me a drink, or am I just going to sit here and smile pretty?"

It was her eyes he didn't like.

Samuel couldn't place the feeling that came over him when he looked into those wide brown spheres, sparkling with hints of gold and held in such innocence and naïveté that he might think her a child. And yet there was that slant around the edges, something he could only catch out of the corner of his eye, or just beyond, but something there, something touching every aspect of the look she gave him. Impatience, hostility, anger, annoyance, call it what you would, it sat at odds with the aura she tried to project, that of the schoolgirl out past her bedtime, stuck out like a sharp corner inamongst the satin curves of her looks, lancing and unexpectedly painful to him.

Uncomfortable, he turned away, no longer willing to play her game. "Whatever you like."

For a moment he thought she might slap him, or do something, make a scene, throw a fit. Jam his beer bottle up his nose, perhaps. She sat a moment in stunned incredulity, seeming not to believe that slamming rejection had come from the male who came onto her in the first place, then slid off the barstool with a sharp huff, affront crackling in every small movement she made. Sam watched her out of the corner of his eye, for he could see her better that way, winced as she shoved past him, her tail lashing his back. His eyes lingered on the solid wood bar, a bit under-cared-for, scuffed and scratched and in need of a dishcloth, then drifted up to the mirror over the bartender to watch tonight's potential orgasm make her way out the door.

"Fourth one this week," the bartender offered, wiping out a glass.

"Shut up and get me another beer," Sam muttered, draining the last of his former. "I don't pay you to talk." The canine complied, lifting it from beneath the bar, switching hands with a toss, and sliding it down to his customer with a move obviously well-practiced. His ears twitched a little, black headfur glinting in the low light; he always kept it quite neat-looking, falling into his eyes just enough to let his grim temperament age him into his mid-thirties, not enough to make him shifty or hostile. He rarely actually looked at his customers, Sam had noticed, keeping his eyes at just the angle where one could never quite catch their hue under his dark fringe. He seemed to take no affront at the golden-furred fox's sharp comment, no surprise, as though he did not care a jot about this vulpine's feelings and spoke only because it was necessary.

If I could meet a female like him, I'd have no trouble with her, Sam told himself firmly, eyes raising glumly to the mirror again to scan the room for such a type.

The raccoon's eyes locked on his before either could realize the other's existence, delved into his head without hesitation or surprise, two pinpoints of navy blue sharp as daggers in the mirror. The timing of the motion was amazing - both men raised their eyes at the same moment, and in the other's gaze the fox saw the creepy purposefulness of expectation, preemptive knowledge of when, precisely, to look up in order to match his movements. Samuel's stomach lurched, and he wrenched his gaze away after less than a second of contact, tore it down to the bar once again. Slowly he relaxed the hand clenched around his beer, trying to stop the sudden onset of trembling now afflicting him.

He wasn't safe.

"Hey, kid."

The greeting was casual as the raccoon swung onto the barstool so recently vacated, as though they knew each other, had known each other for years, had leaned on each other in laughter and tears, had screamed at each other in pain and ecstasy. Sam bristled, hackles raising just a degree on his delicate muzzle as he looked ahead. "I don't know you." It was a statement, not an opening.

"You will, I think. I hope."

The fox finally bothered to throw his new guest another glance. The raccoon was leaning his forehead on one hand, head tilted far down, eyeing Sam with a wry, almost cocky grin on his face. One ear slanted back in line with his hand, the other was raised and pointed toward the fox, long headfur that was definitely against code (nearly four inches) raked around it untidily.

"You're not selling something, are you?" Samuel asked coolly, taking a more controlled sip, unwilling to visibly drown his sorrows in front of a stranger.

"Depends on what you want to buy."

"If it's illegal you're wasting your time." The fox looked away, ears twitching back a little.

The raccoon chuckled darkly. "Anyone can see you're not brave enough for that."

"It's not about being brave."

He felt a hand on his shoulder, looked up automatically, bubble officially invaded.

The raccoon was looking at him strangely. "Isn't it?"

Sam found something odd in his eyes, a degree of... empathy, almost. Something he could relate to, recognize. And yet every inch of his demeanor spoke of complete apathy, from his posture to his slowly swishing tail.

"In any event, I don't sell." He smiled oddly. "Won't have kids like you following my example if I can help it."

Sam snarled a bit again. "I'm twenty-three."

"Surely not?" The raccoon sounded genuinely shocked, then his grin twisted in an awful way. "I thought for sure you were in your thirties. Awfully cold to that broad just now, weren't you?"

"Who are you?" Sam snapped.

The other's grin faded into a grimace. "That's hardly a question you should be asking me, kiddo. Who are you?"

"My name's Samuel."

"Is that what I asked?"

Sam engaged him in a brief staring match. "I suppose not."

"My question stands, then."

"I'm a fox."

"I can see that, thank you."

"I work in a testing lab."

"I certainly hope you don't let that define you."

Sam glared, swallowed thickly. "No." He looked down, took a gulp.

The raccoon raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "So? Going to keep trying?"

"What do you want to hear?"

"I want to hear what you want to say. Nothing so far has impressed me." He idly picked up a discarded straw wrapper from the couple next to them, who were much too involved in each other to notice, and began to toy with it boredly. "I'm starting to wonder if I was wrong about you."

"You were," Sam said shortly, taking another gulp of alcohol. "Go away."

The raccoon smirked a little. "I get that answer a lot. 'Who are you?' 'Go away.' Kind of pathetic, isn't it? When your life is defined by the people who you leave behind. The list just gets longer and longer."

Sam lowered his beer slowly, eyes lingering on the bar. "Is it true, when they say it?"

"For many, yes. True or not, your list just grew by two."

"Two?"

"The broad you shoved off and the bartender who's been working up to a conversation with you for months."

Sam looked up, surprised, then to the young man behind the counter, who was a distance off washing glasses, as it was a slow night. He was a wolf, the fox now observed, or possibly a small sheepdog, with grayish fur and an unobtrusive demeanor. A little on the short, slim side, he moved deliberately, seriously, and seemed at all times calm to the level of being incapable of emotion. Sam caught no hint of rejection about him, no sense of self-berating regret. He looked back to the raccoon. "You're fucking with me."

He got a dark, semisadistic smile in answer. "Aaaah, but it made you think for a minute, didn't it? That's good." He stretched and yawned, fluffy tail swishing playfully. "I suppose you're not utterly hopeless, then. We'll make some progress with you yet."

"Look, who the hell are you?"

The raccoon's eyes lanced at him once again, and Sam realized belatedly that he'd been asked the same question and had not yet been able to come up with an answer.

His unwelcome companion took it in stride, however, folding his hands under his chin and looking ahead, straw wrapper twined between his fingers. "Since you're new at this, I'll answer the way you did. My name's Horix. I'm a raccoon, as you can plainly see. I'm not officially employed, but don't let on about that or I'll be put in the correction center again. Mostly I test my resolve and save the world."

Sam snorted, leaning forward dismissively. "Save the world..."

He felt that hand on his shoulder again, found his eyes drawn into a harsh look of steel and intelligence. "Save the world. One person at a time."

Sam found himself longing to swallow and remarkably unable to. His eyes lingered in the raccoon's navy-blue depths, traced the glistening lines of his fur long after Horix had looked away to stare at the bar, smiling a little. Cold sweat ran down the back of the fox's beer hand, tightly clenched.

"So," Horix asked, pausing just the perfect amount of time, then looking up sweetly. "are you going to buy me a drink, or am I just going to sit here and smile pretty?"

The fox blinked, not having expected the phrase again so soon. The first hot rejection which came to his mind was beaten down by the simple logic of the words when taken in this context; unlike the broad, he hadn't been flirting with the raccoon for the past fifteen minutes. The second more hesitant rebuttal was driven back by recalling what the other male had just said. The list gets longer.

"I'm not buying you a drink." That was his stingy money sense talking. It struck the fox how far he had to search to find a good reason to decline; Horix seemed to know this, or so that devilish grin told him.

"Much more polite than what you said to the other one, although I suppose I was the one who came onto you this time."

"I don't want any trouble," Sam said blankly. "I'm not into anything illegal, so just don't try it."

That goddamned hand on his goddamned shoulder. He looked around. "Who said anything about illegal? If you think I'm soliciting sex from a fellow male, you've sorely misinterpreted my intentions and I will try my best not to laugh."

Thud. "I never said that!"

Horix grinned, leaned in close, his face very near the fox's, and Sam found his breath catching a little. "But you were thinking it, kiddo, don't lie to yourself." The raccoon lingered like that for a moment, letting it hit the fox how close they now were and how soft the huff of the raccoon's breathing was on his face. Letting him catch the other male's underlying musky scent with his sensitive nose, grow accustomed to it, have enough of a chance to be intrigued by it. Letting him realize how difficult it was to pull away. Then Horix suddenly seemed to lose interest, drew away and looked down at the bar. "Whatever you like."

Sam blinked slowly, trying to resettle himself, head spinning slightly. He looked back to the bar, taking a slow drink. He wondered if Horix would leave, but the raccoon, though he now seemed to hardly notice the fox was there, remained.

After a long moment of silence, he flagged the bartender again. "Hey. Uh, a round for my friend here."

The wolf didn't look at him, as was typical for his body language, as he drew out the bottle and slid it down the bar. Sam saw nothing different in the motion. After a moment, he admitted he was watching for something, was in effect listening to the disturbing raccoon, for whatever reason.

Horix cracked open his beer and took a long drink. "Aaah. Fantastic. Thanks, 'friend'."

"Shut up."

"Yeah, yeah, not paying me to talk. Right, sorry."

The fox grew still once again. "I get it."

"Eh?" The raccoon looked over at him, feigning innocence. "What's that?"

"You don't have to keep that up. I get it. I can push, but the pushing is what stays with me."

Horix lowered his beer, and his eyes were dark. "You don't get a thing. If and when you get it, it will probably break you."

Sam looked up. "Who are you? ...I mean it this time. The way you did."

The raccoon smiled in a bittersweet way. "When you know me, you can tell me yourself." He leaned in, the streamlined slants of his face drawing near to the fox's rough outline once more, his mouth coming near the fox's.

It wasn't a great kiss. But it wasn't bad. Short, firstly, and rougher than he was used to, likely due to the genders of the participants, he thought. And yet, for its duration a crazy thought struck his mind, a strange wonder if he had not somehow wildly misjudged the raccoon, if he might not be kissing a female now, for with alarming clarity he found that the action felt much the same. Too similar for comfort, in truth. But as it was quickly over, he just as quickly knew that he had not. That burning look in Horix's eyes as he pulled back; the hard lines of his body under his loose, drab clothing; the deep roughness of his voice as he smiled and said, "I'm going to need someone to keep time for me. You'll do more than well enough." All of that spoke hidden volumes of the gender Sam was more familiar with. Fear gripped his chest; he jerked his head left and right to see if their public display of affection had been noticed, heart racing, expecting Enforcers to burst out of the back room any second. God, no. Please, no. It wasn't even my fault.

"They didn't."

"Wh-what?"

The raccoon was watching him boredly, playing with his wrapper again. "They didn't. Nobody glanced up to see a male raccoon kiss a male fox, and even if they had, do you really think this crowd is the type to go for the Enforcers?" He jerked his head at the scanty crowd in the bar. At least three different illegal substances were in plain sight.

"Why the hell did you do that?!"

Horix shrugged. "Because I knew you'd like it better than going home with nothing, after that incident with the broad."

Sam felt his anger evaporating as he realized that was true. He liked it better, anything, from anyone, than going home alone knowing he'd failed, yet again, to attract so much as a kiss. To gain the attention of someone, anyone. No matter what the circumstances, and those with his companion of the moment were quite strange to him indeed. He stared at Horix, uncertain now, because he realized that the raccoon was the first person in a long time who felt all right to be around.

"Who are you?" It was a whisper now.

The raccoon smiled and slowly rose to his feet. "If you really want to know... I'll be around." He tossed his head back to finish his beer and set the bottle down. "Thanks for the drink. I'll see you later."

Sam watched him walk out. His eyes lingered on the door for a long time, while several others went through it, and then returned to the bar as the bartender lifted Horix's empty bottle. He ordered two more beers at some points later on, focusing on nothing but the soft grain of the wood and the fuzzy sounds of the shady characters talking behind him, thinking of nothing except the raccoon. He went to the bathroom once, eyes unfocused on the shiny white tile, little points of light winking in his brain, the relative darkness feeling deep and soft as he went back out to his stool. It took him several hours to realize where, exactly, that feeling of 'right' came from.

It was Horix's eyes that he liked.

He gestured again for a drink.

"Last call," he got in response, and it was that phrase that drew him out of his stupor, to look up and see the bar was empty except for himself and the young wolf. Looking in the mirror, he saw that the main room was empty as well, surprisingly, even the bouncers had left. He blinked, feeling blearily drunk, but competent enough.

His beer was set down before him, and he stared at it for a moment, then looked up at the bartender, who was standing stoically a few feet away, out of the range of presence.

"What time is it?"

"Closing time was fifteen minutes ago," the wolf said neutrally, looking down at whatever he was doing below the counter.

"I'm sorry. I'll leave."

"Actually, I don't mind the excuse to clock out a few minutes later. You can finish your beer if you want."

The fox paused, then slowly settled back onto his stool. "All right."

Words echoed in his head.

"Hey..."

The wolf slowly looked over at him, gaze blank and serious. It seemed almost an effort for him to focus his attention on the fox.

"What's your name?"

There was a long pause that neither enjoyed.

"Kenneth." The wolf looked down at the bar. Sam watched him as he stood there, rocked a little on his heels, uncomfortable. Whatever he had been doing, his hands didn't seem to be moving anymore.

"How old are you, Kenneth?"

The wolf, again, seemed to hunt for the words, and toy with them for a long time before allowing them out, in a voice softer and smaller than Sam had expected. "I'm twenty-eight."

Five years older than him. The fox watched the other male's discomfort.

"Kenneth..."

He looked up, then looked up. Sam hadn't seen that before. He looked, not through his bangs, but straight at the fox. His eyes were a bright, brilliant, unforgettable amber.

"...do you want to walk me home?"

The wolf's slight motion slowed to nothing. Sam watched him, quietly, patiently, though inside he immediately wondered why he'd asked, how he could be so presumptuous.

"...If you'd like." He stopped choppily, phrase ending with finality, then appended, "...I guess so," and finally, "Yes."

The fox smiled at him a little, and the wolf smiled back a little, the slight awkwardness in his pose offset by the sudden, strange alteration in his serious composure, to something quieter and more open. He quickly set to washing up, and Sam sat there and nursed his last beer. When he was done, Kenneth took it and several bills from him and went into the back, returning a minute later wearing a roughed-up jacket. Sam slowly got up, slightly dizzy and not really looking forward to the hangover he knew was coming in the morning. The two were at first hesitant to be next to each other, as they exited the establishment and Kenneth locked its front door, but then they were walking down the pavement towards Sam's apartment, a bit more slowly than the fox would have had he been sober.

They didn't say much, just walked together down the street, turned the corner, walked, turned the corner, walked. Sam went up to his building's door. "Do you want to come inside? We can hang out a bit, I guess. I have Halo."

Kenneth's smile returned, along with a faint blush. "I... would like to, yes." He stumbled over the words a little. Neither seemed to realize how late it was, or else they did not care.

Then they were lying on Sam's couch. Kenneth had taken off his jacket, as one does when in someone else's home. Sam had taken off his shirt, as one does when sweating and drunk. Kenneth sat, uncomfortably comfortable, as one does when in a stranger's house, Sam lounged on the floor, both focused on the TV, controllers in hand. Neither was very good - one was drunk, the other had little exposure to video games. But they both smiled, both laughed, and after a little they spoke. And they were having fun together, something new to both.

Then they were lying on the couch together just talking, and the game was paused. Sam was curled up at one end with his head on the armrest; Kenneth was lying near him with his head level with the fox's lap. They talked, it didn't matter what about, what mattered was that they made each other smile, made each other laugh, and felt like they had known each other for much longer than they really had. Sam shifted onto his back and pulled the wolf up onto him, so that his head was resting on the fox's bare, white-furred stomach, and Kenneth tilted his head back to make a face and grin, and they laughed and kept talking like that.

Then they were lying still on Sam's bed and neither of them was quite done panting yet. Sam was sweating like a horse. They were done talking. He could hear Kenneth's rough gasping next to him, like a fish out of water, could feel afterimages of almost-searing pleasure echoing in his nerves, could not help but dwell on the noises the wolf had been making ten minutes ago. His blurred mind helpfully informed him that if the Enforcers turned up, he'd be shot, but he didn't care at that point, and neither, it seemed, did Kenneth.

Sam awoke slowly, groaning as the hangover he'd been dreading manifested itself with enthusiasm. He felt... off. Unbalanced. He shifted slightly, and then realized it was because he wasn't alone. His eyes opened, hampered mind recalling only dimly the broad at the bar last night.

Met with a longish, semicode crew cut, his eyes attempted to refocus, sending his vision all out of whack, but his brain maintained that they had to be outright lying. A female with headfur that short would have never gotten down the street and into a bar anywhere in the city. He got his eyes back under control, found the black fur overlying grey on large ears that he didn't recognize at once, and he was an ears guy. What the heck?

Sam dredged his memory, and then suddenly came to a wild conclusion, eyes widening.

"Horix!" Sam rolled sharply away, and his companion jerked awake.

Staring at each other, Sam knew instantly he was wrong; this was definitely not the dodgy raccoon who had kissed him full-on in public last night. Even before he caught a look at the other's face, he could tell from his body language - Horix, he knew somehow, would not startle like that from being so sharply awakened. The wolf panted, gripped by sudden fear as he stared at the fox.

"Wh-what?!"

Sam calmed down marginally, staring at the obviously male wolf, which he found to be odd - shouldn't he become less calm at seeing another male in his bed? And yet it was extremely reassuring that he didn't have to look into those navy eyes once again, instead finding comforting, if wide and scared, amber.

"Sorry. I... thought you were someone else." The fox shivered a little, raising his hand to his throbbing skull. "I... was... really drunk last night, wasn't I?"

Kenneth said nothing, watching the fox nervously, eyes twitching to the soft play of early-morning light on his red-gold fur, the like of which he'd never seen before. He'd known the fox was drunk, should have known better than to trust him making decisions. Like, for example, whether they should fuck. Oh, god, this is going to be bad...

Sam looked up at him silently, eyes meeting his from the opposite side of the bed. Kenneth stared back, and then quickly began to blush. Sam watched him grow redder and redder under his short snoutfur, which began to tuft out a little; he finally looked down, reflexively pulling the blanket up further. "Sorry about last night..." he said softly. "I shouldn't've--"

"It's okay..." Sam said quietly. "I wasn't that drunk. I... knew what I was doing."

"I... look, don't think I make a habit out of this. I've never done this before in my life. I never thought I would."

Sam watched him warily. "Me neither."

The two lay in uncomfortable silence. Sam shifted a little, tense. Kenneth was still blushing.

"...I should go." The short wolf started to sit up.

"Wait," Sam said immediately, unsure why. Kenneth looked back to him, expression pained.

"What?"

Sam swallowed, mouth tasting of sand. "I..." he huffed. "Go take a shower, your fur's a mess from... I'll make you breakfast."

The wolf watched him uncomprehendingly as Sam got up, then looked down, blushing hard, as he got a plain look at the fox's naked body. "What about the Enforcers? If they've bugged your room, they could be here any minute. If anyone saw me going home with you they could call in an investigation." A slight edge of panic lurked in the back of his voice.

Sam shook his head. "No, they would have been here last night if they suspected anything, they're faster than this. They're not going to turn up. If they even know you're here, they assume we're friends and you crashed at my apartment last night. Which is, in fact, entirely true, if slightly simplified."

Kenneth looked up gingerly, then fully when he saw the fox had his boxers on. "What about..."

"Go take a shower," Sam said shortly.

Kenneth slowly got up, making his way across the room a little shyly, tail curled around in front of him. At the door to the bathroom, he looked back. "Samuel..."

The fox looked up at him.

"I have to know... what about..."

Sam shrugged, tense, nervous. "I don't know."

"Is this... going to be something we'll have to worry about?"

Sam, as he stared at the floor at Kenneth's feet, realized uncomfortably that the wolf was suggesting a relationship. The words 'I don't think so,' sprang to his lips, but even as they escaped, his courage faltered. "I... don't know."

Kenneth watched him for a moment, then turned with a shy swish of his tail and went into the bathroom, shutting the door quickly. Sam hesitated, then pulled on an undershirt and left the room, closing the door between the apartment's bedroom and living room so the wolf could have privacy dressing.

He made eggs, took some aspirin, drank some water, and put toast in the toaster. The shower made a soft rush in the background. Standing at the counter, Sam stared down at the carton of orange juice.

Homosexual relations had been illegal for as long as he could remember, and probably as long as the State had existed, some seventy years now. He'd never thought twice about the subject; education centers taught that it was illegal, but made no real attempt to convince students it was wrong; this was more public opinion than State doctrine. Few people really thought homosexuals deserved to be executed, though no one would say as much if faced with the government. Sam had feared gays because they could get him in really serious trouble, never thinking much about what it must be like to mate a male. Now uncomfortably aware of that sensation, and assured that there was no reason to be unduly concerned about the Enforcers as long as they both kept their traps shut (and he was sure they both would), he found himself reflecting on the experience in an unexpectedly positive light. Really, for drunken sex in a way he was hardly used to, it had been pretty good. Really good. He'd enjoyed it. Sam swallowed reflexively and poured himself a glass of OJ, then set to making coffee.

He heard the shower shut off in the background and shuffled the eggs, got paper plates from a stack on the counter, and heaped the food onto them, setting the plates on the small table in the corner and tossing down plastic forks. Sitting down, he began to munch on his toast.

The door opened, and Kenneth walked out, dressed in what he was wearing last night, his fur damp, long fringe hanging limply in his eyes. Sam looked up automatically, and their eyes met again, bringing a pang of nervousness to both. The wolf's fur was gleaming in the reflected sunlight from the bedroom window, catching and amplifying some hue buried in his golden eyes. Sam looked down, uncomfortable, thinking the only word he knew to describe it was 'beautiful.'

Kenneth sat down next to the fox and began to eat his eggs. "Thanks."

"No prob." The coffee maker beeped, and Sam got up. "You want coffee?"

"Please."

Sam poured out two mugs and set them on the table, then grabbed a jug of milk and a couple of packs of sugar. The wolf watched him as he sat down again, fixed up his coffee, and stirred it idly with the handle of his fork.

"So..."

"Look, I didn't expect this to happen any more than you did," Kenneth said quickly.

"I wasn't accusing you."

The wolf looked down; his chewing slowed. "I wanted to talk to you, yeah, but I didn't... didn't think you'd let me..."

Sam blew on his steaming mug of coffee. "Ken, I'm not mad at you." He took a hesitant sip, deemed it still too hot. "I was drunk and I wasn't thinking, or I'd've been scared shitless. But we didn't get caught this time, and I was hardly unwilling otherwise... Though... I'm not sure quite why."

Kenneth began to mess with his coffee. "Did you know you..."

Sam shook his head. "Never even thought about it. I liked women. Just never even thought about it."

The cap of the milk jug clicked as Kenneth pushed it back on. "I did..." he said quietly. "I knew. Never dared to act on it, though. Not till now. Never even thought I'd get the chance."

"Why now?"

Kenneth stirred slowly. "I guess... I liked you enough."

The fox smiled a little, not insincerely, but didn't reply. The wolf slurped his coffee, finishing his eggs and biting into his toast. "So... what happens now?"

Sam stared down at his food. "I'm not sure."

Kenneth leaned forward nervously. "Well, we have to decide... whether we're going to keep seeing each other. And if we do, what... exactly... that'll mean."

Sam nodded slowly, didn't reply.

"What do we do?"

"I don't know any better than you do."

Kenneth bit his lip. "I wanted to be friends with you because I knew you were a nice guy. And talking last night... I really like you, Sam, in... in so many ways. I want to see you again, no matter how it is. I want to be friends."

Sam set his orange juice down from the gulp he had just taken. "I'd like that."

Kenneth stared into his empty plate, stuffing the last of his toast into his mouth. "Do you... want to have sex again?"

Sam looked moodily into his coffee. "I don't know... It was good. You were really good..."

Kenneth blushed hard. "Thanks..."

"...I guess I kind of want to, but... But it's taking an awful risk. They might not notice us a few times, they might not jump to conclusions a few times, but if we keep sleeping together the Enforcers will be all over us. Even if we just meet up, eventually they'll get curious and bug one of us. One wrong word and we're both dead."

Kenneth gazed into his coffee as well. "You're right, of course."

They both took a gulp.

Sam looked up suddenly. "Let's... let's not make any decisions yet. Let's just be friends. But... don't think I don't want to..." He paused uncomfortably. "Sorry. I'm still not used to this."

Kenneth nodded. "Yeah." The two drank their coffee and orange juice in relative silence.

After a long pause, Sam looked up as if struck by something. "You know... it's still pretty early..."

Kenneth looked at the clock on the wall. "It's oh eight fifty-two."

"You don't have to leave yet. We could still be hanging out, that wouldn't seem weird."

Kenneth looked at him. "What do you mean?"

Sam got up slowly. "Do you... want to try it again?"

The wolf stared uncomprehendingly for a moment, then began to blush. "I... just took a shower..." he muttered.

The fox grinned a little. "Then we'll have to try something different that doesn't sticky you up so much."

Kenneth looked up at him anxiously.

"We may never get another chance where we're sure that they can't catch us. If they were onto us, they'd've caught us after last night. One more time isn't going to change a thing."

The wolf began to smile a little. "I guess you're right."

---

I apologize for skipping two whole sex scenes. I really do. I feel like I sold you all short. Much as I like Kenneth, he's not important to the overall plot; he doesn't have much of an effect on Sam's head. The top one, perv. (...I'd say he had quite an effect on the oth--*is strangled*).

The writing in this is two years old with some more recent revision, so I apologize if it's not up to snuff. I think it stands well enough.