FSE

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The music of a calm summer's midday floats in through a window left open to a white-tiled room: the arrhythmic yet tuneful conversations of birds, the breathing of the gentle wind, the sighs of the trees as they rustle and bend together in this passive ambient score. The sun in the sky provides all the light needed to make the tiles of that room sparkle and shine in their cool marble beauty. Everything is perfect, nothing is wrong: the world is, at this moment, this little instance in time, wonderful.

The grey-and-green otter closes his eyes and leans back in the tub, warm water in his fur creating a kind of sleepy perfection with the radiant light on his body. Loose locks and strands of his fur stand free in the sweet water, moving and swaying with each and every miniscule disturbance. It had been so, so long since he had last taken long, calming bath like this, and he long felt he deserved one - and he thought he'd take the opportunity of having the lakeside house to himself today, with the other otter he lives with out.

He closes his blue eyes and sinks further in, the water rising to the bottom of his muzzle and chin. Indeed it is a good day, but he can't keep himself from wondering when that other otter will return - for that's always something to make his day better no matter what. He can see the other otter, Otto, in his mind while he relaxes and slips off into warm bliss: fur patterns exactly like his own except for his personal markings, being blue instead of green; beautiful rich eyes, two bright emeralds deeper than the lake outside; thick tail, soft fur, strong arms, warm hug, warm paws, warm lips. There is just something about him, something so enthralling and beautiful...

He remembers all the times spent with Otto: walks down by the lake with their paws entwined; waking up to the smell of his cooking, bright and enticing; rolling over in bed and burying his nose in his fur, gentle floral scents of his last bath or shower mixing with the ever-so-calming aroma of just, simply, him. All these sweet, sweet images and memories bring an indescribably lift to his heart and murr to his throat that the warmest of waters and most beautiful of days could not. Otto is what makes his days beautiful - he always had, and there is no doubt he always will.

Wisps of steam scented of hot water and whatever shampoo he had used earlier waft up, curl around his black nose, tickle at his sensitive nostrils. There were times he used to feel down for no particular reason at all - there still are, every once in a while - and, whenever one of those times happened to roll by, Otto would take him by the paw and lead him to the bathroom, where he would gently pull him down to sit on the edge of the tub next to him while he started running a bath. He'd pour in something from that little bottle of his, something that didn't make bubbles in the water but instead a fine and calming froth that would quickly fill the room with its characteristic sweet scent; Otto would be holding him - Bleu - next to him this whole time, never once removing his arm from around him. The tub would fill and he'd turn it off, then slide into the water with that serene grace he had and hold his arms out. Bleu would slowly slip in with him, and Otto would wrap his arms around his chest and stroke his fur while murmuring gentle little words of comforting promises into his ear.

Whenever it was the other way around and Otto was the one feeling down - which happens only very rarely - Bleu didn't quite know what to do. Usually he'd just take him into their bedroom and lie down with him, holding him close and breathing the scent that calmed and quieted the panic and distress Otto's pain brought him.

A steady buzz jolts Bleu from his thoughts, and he sits there in confusion before reaching over and grabbing his phone from the edge of the tub before it vibrates enough to fall in. "Hello?"

"Hi, hon." It's Otto, voice bright and cheery - as always. "Just called to let you know I'm heading home... almost there."

"Okay." Bleu begins to stand, then realizes how much noise that would make and sits back down. "Oh, I... I was wondering if you'd like to go for a walk once you get here."

"Of course! I'd enjoy that." Bleu smiles when he hears this. "Well, I guess I'll see you when I get home. I -"

"Wait."

A pause on the other side of the line. "Yes?"

"I love you, Otto."

A light exhalation of breath muddies the call quality for a second - the little giggle Otto gives when he smiles bashfully. "Love you too, baby. See ya soon."

Bleu looks down at his phone, at the blinking numbers and little picture of Otto in the center of the screen. His day had officially been made with the first word of that call, and now, it's impossible for him to hide the dreamy smile lifting the corners of his lips. He stands and begins draining the tub, then wraps a towel around himself and wipes his paw down the foggy mirror. Two blue eyes look back into his, a pair of soft sapphires set into a shy stone-grey face, the visage of a quiet cutie who loves powerfully and cares like no other - this is the image of someone who doesn't always get the love and attention he deserves. That's alright with him, though: he has Otto, and that's everything in the world he cares about. If Otto's happy, he's happy.

He runs his claws through his fur to smooth it down a bit, then steps over to the door and opens it. The steam of his bath pours out into the hallway, dissipating and disappearing as the colder air of the rest of the house wraps around and suffocates it. It's a surprise of a chill, yes, but a nice one: the bumps rising on his skin and the shivering of his body wake him up from the drowsy daze of Morpheus's warm water and the happy nirvana of his thoughts and memories of Otto. The house is filled with the scent of nature, an earthy tang much different than the smell of the bathroom, something more heat and steam than actual scent.

He pulls the towel over his body and - feeling he's dry enough - drapes it over the nightstand in the bedroom. The wide bed - large enough to hold three people if a situation ever requires it - remains unkempt and unmade, as it had been left since the morning. Otto's side is messier, as he tends to bounce out of bed with the same energy he'd have for the rest of the day, while Bleu keeps his a bit nicer and cleaner. He lies down and pulls the other otter's pillow to him, wrapping his arms around it to pull it close and breathes in Otto's scent, something now infused with the fabric.

So many memories are associated with this bed, this pillow, this blanket. Times when Bleu was held tight in Otto's arms, crying into the soft fur of his neck until he somehow drifted off to sleep; times when they were both breathing heavily, panting, eyes squeezed shut after their last 'romp'; quiet nights spent in just happy cuddling. All of these - things he can still see and remember how they felt, hot pain to hot ecstasy - come together and solidify one single thing in his mind and heart: he would never, ever lose Otto. That's one thing he knows he can count on: he will always have his dear Otto.

He smiles softly to himself and inhales once more, the familiar aroma still fresh in the fabric of the pillow. He can almost imagine that otter - cute, handsome, sexy, wonderful in every way - laying next to him, a soft hint of a smile on his face. Before he leaves each day, he waits for Bleu to awaken... when he does, he leans forward and rubs their noses together, then tilts his head and pulls him into a sweet and irresistible kiss... Bleu closes his eyes and murrs just thinking about it, just remembering how those soft, warm lips always feel on his own...

The front door opens, then clicks shut. "I'm home." Bleu sits up and watches the threshold of the bedroom, smile still on his face and murr still in his throat: had he been born a wolf or fox or something, his tail would be wagging far too much to control - however, he wasn't, and the only hint of his happiness is his grin, his murr, and the thoughts running through his head of how great the rest of his day is bound to be.

Otto comes into view, wearing his work outfit: a deep navy-blue aviator's jumpsuit, helmet tucked under his arm while he scratches at his nose with his other paw. Bleu's pilot otter. He looks up, sees the nude - and still slightly wet - Bleu sprawled out on the bed, and smiles too. "Hey there, cutie," he says, placing the helmet on the dresser. "You look happy."

"Oh, I am," murrs Bleu, stretching for the otter's viewing pleasure. "I was wondering if you'd maybe like to cuddle before our walk?"

"Oh, sure. Lemme just... get my clothes off." Otto begins undressing, a shy blush on his face; Bleu watches, sapphire eyes drinking in the beautifully lithe body being revealed in front of him. Soft, pristine white neckfur, leading down to a gentle periwinkle-blue chest and belly; no blemishes or imperfections anywhere, just a better-than-fine form, sides that curve ever-so-slightly inward above his hips, perfect legs, perfect body, perfect everything...

He lays down facing Bleu and places his arm around him, a sweet smile on his face and gentle murr in his throat. The love they share is palpable: maybe it's the way they look into each other's eyes, their own flitting a bit when they find another fleck of this color or a hint of that color - a whole entirety of little imperfections that came together as one in true perfection; perhaps it's how their tails wrap around the other's, how their paws intertwine between them; maybe, just maybe, it's the happiness they share in this moment, elicited from the other's presence.

Bleu begins to lean in, as does Otto: the space between their muzzles is closed by a kiss, warm, sweet, passionate. The taste of Otto's tongue as it so gently brushes against his own, the warmth of his lips, the tightening of his arm around him... Bleu would do nothing else in the world instead of this. He'd rather die than give up this sweet otter lying in front of him. That had always been the truth, and it shall always be.

Otto tilts his head into the kiss while he runs his paw up and down, up and down Bleu's soft chest and stomach, eyes closed in bliss. The other otter feels a stir in his sheath, and instinctively presses his hips forward against Otto's thigh, who pulls out of the kiss upon feeling this and giggles softly. "Someone's a bit eager, mm~?"

Bleu's ears lower and he hides the hot blush warming his face behind his paws. "I'm sorry! You're just... so sexy, and I -"

"Shh." Otto silences him with a finger on his lips, then takes his paw and slides it down his belly: his own cock is a little more than awakened, made clear to Bleu by the ponderous warmth underneath his fingers. "That's for later, babe... we still have our walk, remember?" He kisses his nose and smiles before rolling off the bed. "Patience. C'mon, let's go: it's really nice outside."

Bleu watches him pull on a pair of shorts from the dresser, then gets up as well and does the same. Otto continues smiling, holding his paw out; Bleu takes it in his own and squeezes, and then their lips meet and lock again for another string of thick kisses. Outside the house, it really is wonderful: the sun shines bright and high in the sky, without its glare being obnoxious or overpowering in the slightest; all of the plants and art of nature are alive, luminous in color - vibrant reds and yellows of flowers, carmine, crimson, burgundy, all the tones of deep viridian to charismatic bright green, the turquoise of the lake and light cyan, cerulean of the sky. Otto's fur of snow, of slate, of indigo. The warmth of his paw, his presence, his love, bright colors all of their own.

The trees all around tilt and sway with a steady gentle breeze - not a cold or cool breeze, not, but one almost warm, pleasant. Bleu looks up toward the sky and out over the placid lake as they walk, occasionally stealing a shy glance over at the perfect smiling face beside him. Otto is the puppetmaster of his emotions, the only person who can squeeze tears out of the depths of his heart, who can pull the corners of his lips up into such a smile to make his face hurt, who can make him moan out in bright and riotous rapture or curl up and wonder why he still lives. That last question, though, as as obvious an answer as the sun itself: Otto is the reason he lives, the single thing in all of life that brings unmatched wondrous color to an earth that would otherwise be illustrated in flat shades of grey.

"You okay?"

Bleu blinks and looks over. "Hm? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just got kinda... lost in thought." He squeezes Otto's paw, then smiles when he feels a squeeze in return.

"Oh? Thoughts of what?" Otto's smooth voice sings as a fine melody over the background harmonies of the wind, the trees, of nature.

Bleu plays with the words in his mind for a short period of time, a shy hesitation before his answer - a simple few words: "How much I love you."

Otto stops, takes both of Bleu's paws in his own, looks into his eyes. "Bleu," he murmurs, "my sweet, sweet Bleu. Listen to me, just for a bit. I know I sometimes don't give you what you deserve. I know sometimes I get distracted and end up ignoring you for a while. I know it's hard to believe I love you. I know that."

Bleu opens his mouth to say something, but then is silenced by a soft-furred finger on his lips. Otto keeps looking into his eyes, his own dancing back and forth, observing and absorbing the more shy otter's reactions.

"I just... want you to know that I've never done anything to intentionally hurt you. Ever. Your pain... it's my pain, and of course, it hurts. I care a lot about you, even if it seems I don't sometimes." He leans forward and gently rubs his nose across Bleu's, keeping his voice soft. "Bleu... my dear otter... believe it or not, I do love you. I love you very, very much... don't you ever think otherwise. If you ever need to talk about something - anything - don't be afraid to come to me. Alright?"

Bleu nods, then pulls Otto into a tight embrace. Warm breath going down the fur on the back of his neck makes him shiver, which the warms wrapped around him quickly dispel. A nose presses into his fur, a sweet nuzzle; he moves his head up and is met with another kiss, one that puts a happy thump into each of his heartbeats and warms his entire body. Then, it hits him: everything Otto just said is true. This is love - this is life.

Green eyes, green water; blue fur, blue sky. Otto leads him to the bank and just stands there, arm around him, holding him close. "Look at it," he whispers, "it's beautiful."

Bleu smiles and wraps his arm around Otto, paw just above his waist. The surface of the water reflects the sky and sun, a white fissure rippling across the surface of ever-stirring opal water. "Just like you."

"And you." The wind ruffles gently through their fur and whispers in their ears; they remain silent for a while, watching the lake and the rest of nature, the beauty of everything in existence. This is the kind of time Bleu loves spending with his otter: quiet, no words, no actions, just... watching, observing, living, loving. Nothing comes easier than this: love is natural and divine, the one true source of happiness - Otto is Bleu's one true source of happiness, the evidence of which being the murr in his throat, the beat of his heart, the unintentional smile on his muzzle. He could want nothing else in the world right now.

Otto lets go of Bleu's paw and advances toward the water: he steps in until it covers his ankles, waits a bit, and then goes in further. "Come on," he says, motioning with a wave of his paw, "join me."

Bleu shakes his head and stands ankle-deep, letting the water tickle at the skin of his legs while the other otter runs forward and dives in. The small, almost-soundless splash of a sleek aquadynamic body piercing the surface of water interrupts the otherwise smooth song of nature: Otto cuts through the water, fast and elegant, as Bleu watches with that admiring smile still on his face. Otto's personality and mannerisms are so unlike those of anyone else he's ever met - he's unique, bright, absolutely and without a doubt the highest tier of wonderful and amazing. Not only does he have a great personality, but his body is tantalizing and delicious - if that's not obvious as he swims through the water, flowing in and out of visibility.

Bleu sits down and continues watching, amazed by Otto's energy. Every once in a while he bobs up over the water and looks around, maybe trying to orient himself as to where he is; he sees Bleu sitting on the bank once and swims back to him. "Why don't you wanna join me, hon?"

"I don't really feel like it," apologizes Bleu, looking up at the dripping otter above him - his wet shorts stick to his body, clearly outlining his sheath and sack, his beautifully shaped bulge. "I... I just took a bath, don't really wanna have to take another one... sorry."

"Oh, no, don't be. It's fine." Otto plops down next to Bleu, legs splayed out in front of him: his bulge is even more obvious than before, as if he wants him to do something but doesn't want to voice that want, as if he's purposely teasing him.

Bleu tries to say something, but the returned stir in his sheath muddies his mind and thoughts and renders him silent. His eyes are fixed on that one spot - he knows he's staring - but he can't look away... and, soon, there's a bulge in his pants as well, more than just sheath. This Otto notices, as he reaches over to place a paw on Bleu's upper inner thigh, then murrs softly into his ear: "I know what you want, Babe. Here, how about you just..." - he reaches over, takes Bleu's paw, and places it at the edge of his groin - "...go for it?"

Bleu blushes deeply and pulls his paw away, arousal growing with the warmth licking at him. This just entices the other otter further, who rolls over and pins him down, noses an inch apart. In response to this, Bleu tries to draw back a bit and wriggles feebly under Otto, sheaths pressed together through their pants; Otto leans in and grins against him, his murr audible to the ears of the otter trapped beneath him.

"Cute," he breathes, "resistance. Well, that just makes me want you more..." He moves up and sits on Bleu's chest, the front of his dripping pants within reach of his mouth if he tried. "You know what to do."

Little cool drips and rivulets of lakewater cut down through the otherwise dry fur of Bleu's chest and belly, causing him to shiver a bit as he begins undoing Otto's fly. Despite the ever-present chill of the waterlogged fabric, a gently warmth still permeates that and caresses his fingers while he pops the button out, takes hold of the zipper, pulls it down its somewhat-coarse tracks: this warmth increases exponentially when he opens the front of Otto's pants and slides the shorts down his hips. Otto's blue tip - yes, blue (royal azure-blue, to be exact, matching his fur) protrudes from the end of his sheath, carrying with it a delicious and moist musky scent.

Bleu runs the pad of one finger over the tip, himself growing harder continuously and steadily. One of Otto's paws on the back of his head keeps him down and pulls him forward - which hurts his back a bit, but only a negligible and unimportant amount - until his nose digs in to the hot fur of his sheath, wet from the water, warm and tempting at the same time. Bleu slips his tongue out through his lips and leans forward, closing that small remaining space between his muzzle and what he wants, then presses it to the blue tip peeking out of the periwinkle fur. The flavor of that wonderful meat rolls over his tongue and through his mind, a bold complement to the rich and irresistible scent of that area. His eyes drift closed and his shyness fades while he laps hungrily at the cock being further revealed beneath the fast yet deliberate caresses of his tongue.

Otto's eyes close, too, and he breathes out a soft sigh of a moan before tightening his grip on Bleu's head and pulling him closer. The otter beneath him closes his lips around his tip and sucks softly, using his tongue to magnify Otto's pleasure. There's just something about this - about having the one person he loves with all his heart and everything he has (and more, why not) just barely inside his mouth, perched on the surface of his tongue, filling his head with his wonderful, wonderful scent and taste... Bleu dives in deeper, wanting more, more, more. He feels Otto respond and push his hips forward, feels the blissful sigh run down through his body, the paw on the back of his head, his cock held firm between his lips.

Bleu keeps Otto's cock cupped lovingly in his tongue, a tight and warm embrace that both of them draw rich pleasure from - the former reaches a lazy paw down to grope himself through the oppressive fabric of his pants, which he is soon busy sliding down fine legs to reveal his own eager hardness, and the latter lets his tongue loll out the side of his mouth while he breathes hot breaths and moves his other paw to the back of the other otter's head, as he too wants more. No words are spoken, as they rarely ever are during times like this: instead, they almost seem to read each other's minds, moving in silent - except, of course, for the conglomerations of sighs and moans Otto sometimes gives, with Bleu's muffle mirrors of those sounds - synchronization; Bleu would move back and Otto would shortly follow, then they would both come together and move away again, forward, back, forward, back...

Otto bends over Bleu's head and pushes in and out, in and out, hips moving with a smooth fluidity in contrast to the relative stillness of his upper chest and body; the tip of his tail flicks back and forth, occasionally coinciding with and interrupting Bleu's steady stroking of himself as he pleasures the well-endowed otter sitting on his chest. Being seen is of no risk: nobody ever comes down to this secluded house on the lakeside, and currently the only witnesses to this act of raw, powerful passion are the trees and grass, the ever-open eye of the sun and its brother rippling across the surface of the lake. They had all seen this before, and surely, they would see it again after this.

Bleu keeps one paw on the base of Otto's meat to hold hit steady while he bobs up and down on it and as he twists and turns his head. Otto keeps his own movements under control - what with his pushes forward and pulls back, there's not much to mess up - while be begins to lurch in further, further, further, until he feels his tip pressing up against the warm back of Bleu's throat... and then, of course, he continues further.

The otter under him gags, his breath cut off; when he pulls out to promptly push back in, though, he gathers himself and repositions his head and tongue so as to prevent that from happening again. Otto fucks his muzzle as he would his ass: deep and powerful movements and thrusts, yet not devoid of care; moans that ring out loud in the relative quiet of the day; a wave runs down his tail with each movement of those fine hips, ending in another flick. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth lazily open, lost in the world of unrestrained bright pleasure and passion while the whole of his length slides in and out of Bleu's warm, wet mouth, underside held in his delicious curved tongue - the feeling, the sensation of it is the epitome of invigoration, the greatest he has ever felt. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Bleu feels Otto's climax approaching, rising exponentially in the speed with which it grows closer: to quicken its arrival - and maximize his love's pleasure - he dives down deep and pulls Otto's meat into his the back of his throat, tongue still holding its warm, delicious sides. That's all it takes: Otto moans out and leans forward, back arched and hips forward while a wave of electric rapture shoots through his pleasure and out his tip into Bleu's throat. Bleu squeezes his own eyes shut and moves his paws to Otto's hips, pulling him closer, closer, closer, despite the powerful gag looming in the base of his throat and the lack of breath in his lungs. It seems to just keep coming and coming, and Bleu keeps on swallowing and swallowing what he can, with the rest dribbling out the side of his mouth through the space between the cock and his lips. Rich, hot, powerful, a tangy while bittersweet flavor unlike anything else, something that cannot be described, a taste greater than the brightness of the sun: this is Bleu's favorite taste out of the near-endless list of others - the almost-numb taste of Otto's seed, as hot and thick as the meat it shoots out of, while it makes his tongue slick and sticky, delicious.

Otto releases Bleu's head - who falls back onto his elbows, coughing and sputtering - and leans back, his panting visible in the rising and falling of his chest. His eyes remain closed and he keeps one paw on his otter's chest for balance while his cock drools out the last few drips of his cum into the soft light-green fur; Bleu licks his lips and murrs, the taste of that cum still rich on his tongue and in his mouth. It's impossible for Otto to not feel the hard cock throbbing against the underside of his tail, even though he doesn't appear to show awareness of it; Bleu doesn't move his paw back down to stroke himself, as all he wants has already been accomplished.

The fast brushing of fur over fur halted and bright, pleasured moans ceased, the music of the day returns to the calm rustling of wind through the trees and gently waves in the water, soft panted breathes hinting below. Otto pulls himself back up and smiles down at Bleu, eyes half-closed and posture relaxed; he slides down Bleu's body - rubbing his leg, thigh, and sack over the other otter's hard meat - and holds his head gently in his paws, then leans in the rest of the way and presses their mouths together. He tastes his own seed on Bleu's lips and tongue, mixing that and both of their saliva between them, his intentions gradually becoming clear as he grinds against his body and slips a paw between them to grope him and rub his cock - green, to match the scheme of his fur in contrast to Otto's - and sack.

Otto slips out of the kiss and moves down Bleu's body, resting his head on his thigh next to the still-throbbing cock. Bleu just leans back with one paw lazing drowsily on Otto's shoulder; his hips give an involuntary push upward when he rolls over and drags his tongue up the underside of his cock and then closes his mouth around it, already mirroring the past movements and actions of the one he is pleasuring, in want to return the hot climax and bright rapture he was brought. He moves his head quickly and smoothly along Bleu's hard length, doing the same headtilts and tongue-tricks he felt on himself... and, in response to all of these, Bleu writhes and wiggles, a mindless slave to his iron-fisted overseer, the mouth, lips, and tongue of his love.

Otto pulls his muzzle up off of Bleu's cock and dives forward for another passionate kiss mimicking the movement of his head with a tightly-clenched paw around the now slick cock. He kisses him deeply and with emotion unparalleled in anything else: he tilts his head up and down, up and down while pressing his lips against Bleu's and exploring every corner of his mouth, in which some of his cum is still present; he continues pressing deeper and adding another kiss to this long string of them, then another, and another, and another, while he moves his paw quickly up and down Bleu's throbbing length, feeling the approaching climax as Bleu felt his, faster, faster, closer, closer -

Bleu moans out into Otto's mouth and bucks his hips, his own cum spurting out over Otto's paw and catching in his fur, one white rope being flung out, then a second, and a third. Otto breaks the kiss on feeling this and moves back down the exhausted otter's body, then drags his tongue up each thick, sticky line in his fur, swallowing after each one, relishing the taste of Bleu's cum before he moves back up and kisses him again, sharing the rich, delicious taste.

Once more silence reigns; Otto pulls out of the kiss and rubs his nose against Bleu's, who is still panting softly with his eyes shut. "Did you like that, babe?" murrs the otter on top, the same gentle smile from before still on his face; all Bleu can do to reply is give a faint nod, but that in itself is good enough.

Otto nuzzles into the soft fur of Bleu's neck and murrs to himself, letting the post-orgasm drowsiness wash through his body: the three words they usually say to each other are not needed. Their sighs, their moans, their gasps, and now their silence, say everything.

The sun reflects off the green water of the lake.