FSE

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Author's Note: the following is a work of furry fiction, and may contain yiffery, including sexual acts between furry characters of the same gender. If you're not old enough to be reading this, or you're not too fond of hot threesomes with cute animals, I command you...be gone! If not, then please read and enjoy. This is a sequel, so if you don't want to be confused, I recommend reading Part 1 to this story.

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Order Up 2: The Promotion ©MMIV Whyte Yoté

It is a busy night in the city: a basketball game is playing at the stadium downtown, Broadway plays are in full effect, and shoppers mull about, clogging the streets like always. For most restaurants, though, it is a slow Tuesday, a meager dinner rush followed by an even more meager stream of business that seems to lag on forever until closing at 2 a.m.

At Maxine's, however, business is booming. Tonight is the grand opening of two new additions: a fenced-off open-air jazz lounge out back, and a curbside patio with seating along the busy street. The night is perfect: a slight breeze, seventy-two degrees, and plenty of patrons waiting outside in a long line to have their hunger sated.

Ever since he came on shift at 4:30 this afternoon, a certain young wolf has been inundated with dirty dishes and capricious water pressure. He struggles to keep up with the flow, but it seems as soon as he gets one load done, two more are placed in his sink. Usually he has a view out to the floor, where the real show is, but tonight all he can see is white dishes and pots and pans, all waiting for his paws.

Normally, this seemingly endless task would annoy him to no end, but for the past two weeks, during which he's worked sixty hours apiece, he's had fox on the brain. Every night before he goes to bed, the wolf thinks about his bills and how he can be able to afford his place for another month. But then that beautiful white-furred vulpine comes into his mind, with his sashaying hips, silky voice and impossibly deep violet eyes.

He murmurs to the wolf that everything will be okay, and not to worry one bit. And then he pulls the blushing wolf into a hard kiss, sometimes pawing him to climax while they are locked together, sometimes using that wonderful muzzle of his, or-a personal favorite-sometimes begging to be mounted and filled with hot lupine cum. Needless to say, the wolf satisfies his urges each night, sometimes twice, with the fox in his fantasies. He wants to see him again, and ask him why he did what he did two weeks ago. But they've both been so busy, neither has had time to even say hello.

The wolf has become quite the dishwasher, having figured out a rhythm to the process to make it easier on his back and paws. The task has become mindless and repetitive, so he finds himself thinking of the vulpine, not minding the erection he gets. He is so caught up with his job that he is surprised when he reaches into the soapy water for the next dish and comes up empty-pawed.

Looking up, there are no dishes waiting for him. A finger tapping on his shoulder makes him jump a bit, swiveling around to face Harry, the head chef. The tall, chubby wolverine towers over him, but he wears an amiable smile.

"Hey, kiddo. Havin' fun yet?" he bellows over the assorted sounds of the kitchen, patting the lupine on top of his head.

Smiling confidently, the wolf replies, "It gets easier every time."

"Good, good. Well, it looks like we're finally dying out there, so what do you say you take a break, and then come back and finish up? You've only got two hours left, max."

The wolf's eyes brighten up at this unexpected good news, and he takes off his gloves and apron, stretching after so many hours of tiresome bending. "So...what, about fifteen minutes?" he asks.

"Take twenty and you'll owe me, how about that?"

"Great!" the wolf exclaims, knowing that Harry always says things like that but never collects on what is "owed" to him. He winds his way through the cluttered kitchen, through the stockroom, and out the back door to the alley behind the restaurant, which is the designated "breakroom" for employees of Maxine's. He piles up some nearby pallets and sits down against the wall, sighing deeply. For once, thoughts of his problems do not plague his mind.

From just twenty feet away, soft jazz music drifts over the fence and bounces off the high walls bordering the alley. It almost puts the lupine to sleep, but doesn't prevent him from hearing the kitchen door open with an audible squeak. He glances in that direction, and sees white invade the dark alley. He smiles immediately; this is the first time he's gotten a chance to see the arctic fox since their last encounter.

The vulpine stands there for a moment, taking a cigarette out of a silver holder and lighting it with a Zippo. He regards the wolf with indifference, does a double-take, and his expression does a complete flip. "Hi, wuffie!" He exclaims as he walks easily to the wolf, who stands up to meet him. The two hug tightly, and the lupine blushes as the fox ends the hug by squeezing one furry buttock.

Just as sexy as ever, the fox is again dressed to the nines. Tonight he wears skin-tight black leather pants with a red scarf as a belt, a red belly shirt and a black vinyl jacket. The studs and bracelet adorn his ear and ankle, and he has a studded bowtie around his neck. The wolf, on the other paw, wears a white shirt and his now-ruined cargo pants. He averts his gaze self-consciously.

"I haven't seen you in a while, puppy," says that voice again, and the wolf shudders at the term of endearment. The fox sits down beside him, very open and very close, so that their hips touch. A white-furred arm goes around his neck, and the wolf can feel the fox's tail wagging over his own. Already his cock is uncomfortable against the zipper of his pants, and he shifts on the pallets. "What's up?" The vulpine takes a long drag on the cigarette and exhales in the opposite direction.

The wolf manages to look up, encouraged by the fox. "We've both been busy, I guess. I hardly get to see the floor anymore. All those dishes." A rush of emotion so sudden and so strong washes over the lupine, and he is too late to fight back a few tears. "I missed you," he says.

"Oh, don't," mutters the fox, and fingers go to the wolf's muzzle to wipe away the wetness. He drags the rest of his cigarette away, blows it out and throws the butt to the ground, then leans into the wolf, bringing his other arm around and hugging him. There is no more crying, but the wolf is very quiet, except for a few sniffles. They break the embrace and the fox asks, "What's wrong, hon? Please tell me."

"Why would you want to know?" The wolf really has no idea why this beautiful canid would want to care about him.

"That's a stupid question. I care about you. After knowing you for all of four hours yet, that doesn't sound possible, but I make it a point to care even if you don't think I have to."

The wolf leans back and looks into the streetlight across the alley, his moist eyes sparkling. "It's everything. I moved to this big city to start my career, and I'm a dishwasher. I probably shouldn't be saying this, but I've been putting in applications all over town ever since I moved here. I can't find a worthwhile job."

The fox's brow lowers. "What would you call this, chopped liver?"

"No, it's just-" the wolf begins, but changes the subject. "How much did you make tonight?"

"Why?"

"Just answer. Please?"

Thinking for a moment, the fox counts in his head. "I dunno, maybe one-eighty, two hundred. But tonight was a special occasion. Usually it's more like one-twenty."

The wolf throws up his paws in a don't-you-see? gesture. "I make seven dollars an hour back there," he spits, motioning toward the kitchen with his thumbclaw. "I don't make half of what you do, in the same amount of time."

"But there's a lot more to serving the floor than washing dishes," the fox admonishes, and draws back when the wolf gets muzzle-to-muzzle with him.

"Then why didn't I get hired to serve? Huh?" the lupine practically snarls.

His ears laid flat, the fox sputters, "We weren't hiring servers! We had plenty! Why're you taking this out on me? I only sucked you off, for Christ's sake!"

The wolf's face immediately loses its threatening expression, and he turns away, ashamed of his outburst. He tries to shrug off the white paws that start to knead his shoulders, and the muzzle near his ear that speaks so soothingly. "There's something you're not telling me. You don't go off like that without a reason. Now talk to me," the fox says, shaking him a little for emphasis.

Reluctantly, the wolf faces his friend again. "I'm broke. My entire paycheck goes to my rent. I can only afford electricity and enough hot water for a shower every three days. I have no cable, no Internet, and no food...almost. If it weren't for all the leftover food from Maxine's, I'd be on a steady diet of Ramen, and even then it would be too expensive. I...I don't think I can make it in this city. I can't pay my rent next month, and I'm still putting in sixty hours a week here. No one will hire me." The lupine's face is flat, emotionally drained. "Now tell me what you can do to help me."

"I can tell you plenty," retorts the fox with an even flatter stare, all seriousness. "You just never asked me before. Now stop bitching." His voice is warm again, and despite his depression the wolf finds himself comforted just by the fox's words. He smiles a little, and the fox returns to his normal, flamboyant self. His fur fairly gleams in the light, his eyes deep purple. He takes a small bottle of blue liquid from his pocket, takes a short swig, and swishes it around his muzzle before spitting it onto the ground behind a dumpster.

The wolf giggles at this intriguing display, and asks, "What was that, pray tell?"

"Mouthwash, to get the cigarette taste off my tongue," replies the fox as he sits back down, replacing his arm about the lupine's shoulders.

"Why would you carry around mouthwash?"

"Because I know you don't smoke."

"What does that have to-" is all the wolf can get out before the fox's muzzle presses to his, and forces him open. Taken completely by surprise, the lupine has no resistance against the dexterous tongue and powerful jaws of the fox, roaming the inside of his muzzle, tasting him and giving him a burst of mint from the remaining mouthwash. The vulpine leans in hard, pushing the wolf onto his back on the pallets.

Suddenly he is staring into those gorgeous eyes, powerful and full of lust; the fox climbs on top of him, straddling his body and practically ramming the back of his head into the pallets. A paw releases his shoulder, only to emerge a second later at his groin, pawing him hard, almost painfully, through his pants. The wolf can't resist the urge to reciprocate, and he goes to the fox's zipper, feeling the turgid heat and outline of his cock and knot through the leather.

After only a few seconds, the wolf feels teeth on either side of his face bite down hard, and suddenly the fox lurches as if he is going to vomit. The vulpine's eyes grow wide, and he pants, "Oh shit, uuunnggghhh! Shit!" He collapses onto the wolf hard, humping his paw, and then his crotch when the wolf pulls his paw away. When the fox stops moving, the wolf can only lay there and pat his back, petting him. He doesn't quite know what has just happened, but he has a suspicion.

The fox rights himself so that he is sitting on his knees above the wolf. Still panting hard, and whimpering a little, he undoes his fly, groaning at the relieved pressure. The lupine can see, under the pants, that the fox had no underwear to soak up all the cum that now coats his crotch. He can't believe that just a few strokes of his paw could cause that.

"I...I really needed that, I'm sure you can tell. Believe me when I say I didn't come out here to molest you. I wasn't expecting to come so hard, so quickly. Sorry, hon." The fox's red cock is swollen at the knot, too big to retreat just yet. The wolf finds himself staring longingly at it.

"It's no problem. I'm glad I could help," says the wolf in a voice too low to be his own. His own cock is needful for release, but thankfully his knot is still sheathed, and he can feel himself retreating.

The two stand, the fox zipping himself up again. "I'll have to find a rag to fix that." Their heads turn toward the door as it opens, and Harry's head pokes out.

"You out here, kid? You got two minutes, then you belong to me again."

"Okay, I'll be right there!" replies the wolf, subconsciously smoothing down his clothes and fur, seeing the fox doing the same.

"Hey...if you're not doing anything after work, do you want to come over to my place?" asks the fox, presenting a small card to the wolf, lust still visible in his eyes. Who could turn down an offer like that?

The wolf takes the card, and reads the address. The fox approaches him again, deftly slipping a paw behind his belt and fingering the opening of his sheath, making the lupine gasp and hump into him. "I can take care of this in a flash," he says.

"Yeah...I'll be over as soon as I get cleaned up," the wolf breathes.

The paw changes positions and moves lower, cupping the furry balls. "I wouldn't worry about showering before, hon..."

Taking his paw away, the fox grins slyly at the wolf and blows him a kiss, reveling in the expression of dumbfounded arousal on the lupine's muzzle. Then he disappears through the kitchen door, leaving the wolf alone, except for the streetlamp and the soft jazz.

* * *

Two hours fly by as the wolf continues to do his dishes, smiling and thinking to himself. When he had walked back into the kitchen to put his apron back on, Harry had passed him and gotten a whiff with his keen nose. "Jesus! What've you been doing, rolling in fox?" he had exclaimed, and it was all the wolf could do to keep from laughing out loud.

As soon as he clocks out, the wolf heads for the subway and rides the four stops to the station near his apartment building. He changes clothes quickly, remembering the fox's comment about not needing to shower, and has to fight the urge to paw off right in the middle of the room.

After taking the subway and changing routes twice, he finally arrives at the intersection near the fox's place. The back of the card had told him to wait outside the station, and the fox would meet him there to walk him up. He waits only five minutes or so before the fox turns the corner and waves to him. He is still wearing the same pants, but now only a matching black leather vest adorns his shoulders.

"Did you find the place okay?" The fox says, unabashedly giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Yeah, it was easy. Better part of town than mine. How can you afford to live here?"

"I have ways," comments the fox vaguely, leading him by the paw down the street. A couple of blocks down and a few more over, they come to a three-story building with steps leading to the front door. The wolf gawks as a magnetic keycard comes out of the fox's pocket and slides down a reader, unlocking the door. "Increased security," says the vulpine, and they mount the stairs to the second floor, where the fox opens another door with the same key.

The wolf's breath catches in his throat when he takes the loft in. The fox's home is one big studio, with twelve-foot-high ceilings supported by massive oak pillars. It is a study in minimalist design, with abounding solid colors, abstract art on the walls, stainless steel in the kitchen, and leather everywhere. Thick shag carpet surrounds the entertainment center, as well as an open area with a black pole mounted from floor to ceiling.

"This is beautiful!" the wolf cries.

"This...is parents who won't stop giving," says the fox with a trace of cynicism in his voice. "If you think I bought all this with my serving money, you're wrong. My parents got rich off the dot-com thing and pulled out before it all went to shit. I kept telling them I wanted to go it alone, but they insisted on sharing the wealth. They paid for two years in this place in advance, and gave me carte blanche for outfitting it. It pissed me off, so I spent as much as I could, close to a hundred grand. They told me I could've done better."

"Sounds like your parents are good people," says the wolf.

"Yeah, right," the vulpine scoffs, motioning for the wolf to sit on a deep leather sofa. The fox crosses his legs and continues. "Our family doesn't like to show emotions. Nothing says 'I love you' like a pawful of cash. You know what I think this all is?" The wolf shakes his head, ears perked. "It's probably them trying to say that I'm still their son, and they love me even though I'm gay. I mean, I know they love me, but...jeez, you know?" He sounds like someone who has received unwanted blessings but has learned never to take anything for granted.

The wolf puts his paw on top of the fox's trying to rub his anger away. "I bet they do. So, where does all your money go?"

"To college. I'm going to go to art school and get a degree in design. I draw all the time; it's mostly rooms and houses, things like that. I have books full of them. I'll show them to you, if you want."

"Sure, that would be cool."

"Is that you, foxxy?" comes a singsong voice from the bedroom, and the wolf jumps.

"Yeah, Dean!" the vulpine yells back, and catches the look in his friend's eyes. "I brought company!"

"Who's he?" asks the silver lupine, a bit disquieted by a third person in the loft. He thought he knew what was supposed to happen tonight, but why is this person here? "Your roommate?"

"Oh, no, I live by myself. Dean's a...friend. I have him over once in a while. We get together to, um, 'play' ever so often." A very vulpine grin crosses the fox's muzzle, causing the wolf to wring his paws together worriedly.

"When I said I would come over, I didn't expect-"

At that moment, the owner of the singsong voice emerges from the fox's bedroom, clad only in a white T-shirt and silk boxers. The ferret moves with frantic energy, his eyes darting this way and that, his fat tail waving behind him like a rudder.

"Hi, you must be the puppy I've heard so much about," he rants, skritching the wolf's ears and heading straight for the bar. "Whaddya drink, you two?"

The wolf watches the ferret with wide eyes.

"Can you believe he doesn't have to take drugs to be like that?" whispers the fox with a sarcastic smirk.

"I heard that, you asshole!" Dean calls from behind the bar. "Come on, my ice is melting."

The fox looks at his companion's indecisive stare for a moment, his raised eyebrows bunching up the white fur on his forehead. His eyes are nothing short of mesmerizing, and the wolf can't think of what he wants to drink, much less anything else.

"Um, I've never drunk anything before," he admits. The fox sits back on the couch and lets out a bark of a laugh.

"You're kidding me!"

"No...I'm underage."

"Like that matters. Okay, Dean. I'll take a gin martini, VERY dry please, two olives, two ice cubes. The puppy-" he accentuates the word almost cruelly "-will have, oh, a screwdriver...nice and weak, so he's not overwhelmed." The vulpine smiles at the wolf, but he doesn't get a smile in return.

The wolf looks down at the floor, twiddling his thumbs and trying not to feel embarrassed. It's not his fault he's never tasted alcohol before; he's just never been in any kind of a situation where it's been available. It surprises him, nevertheless, when the fox uses the word "puppy" again, but in such mean terms. For once, he feels truly young and cubbish.

Immediately the fox's expression becomes somber. He didn't mean to offend his friend, didn't even see that there was a line, but the speed with which the wolf turned silent scares him. Crawling over the couch cushions to him, he says, "Hey...I didn't mean anything, really. You know I was kidding, right?" He looks for a change of heart, and doesn't see it. The fox leans over the silver wolf's slouched body and puts his arms behind and around his back, hugging him reassuringly. Soon enough, he feels arms around his own back, and he smiles into the wolf's headfur, indulging himself in a small sniff while doing so.

"I'm sorry, hon. I know there's still some things you're not telling me. I can't read you."

"I'm sorry too...I just tend to let things affect me more than they should. Too much emotional baggage, makes me unstable." The lupine ends this with a high little giggle, and the tension is broken once again. The furs pull away, sharing a longing glance before Dean leans in with two glasses in front of their muzzles.

"Less flirty, more drinky," he quips. "Tell me how I did." The two put their respective drinks to their lips and test them; the fox shakes his head in approval, while the wolf begins to nod, but shudders when the full force of the vodka hits his throat. He coughs twice, but holds back the rest to save some face.

"Don't worry," the ferret says, clapping the lupine on the back. "I made that extra strong. If you can stand that, you'll have no problem in the bars. Drinking and picking up guys." He winks at them both.

The wolf rolls his eyes at the comment, and the ferret responds by ruffling his headfur.

"Hey, don't treat him like a kid. You don't know him like I do." Dean raises his paws in harmless defense.

"You hardly know me at all," says the wolf, who has become quite comfortable with the fox sitting so close to him. Finally, he thinks. Why do I have to be so nervous?

The ferret plops down in between the two furs with his own drink, practically sitting in both their laps before splitting them apart. "Hey, no fair!" says the fox in a mock-offended tone, shoving Dean into the wolf, who shoves him back. Soon a pillow comes into the fray, and all three are fighting with one paw, and holding their drinks with another. The wolf tries as best he can to land a few blows with the small cushion he finds behind his back, but it is knocked loose by the fox's throw pillow...and so is his screwdriver, all over one of his few good shirts.

"Shit! Ahhh!" the lupine yells as the cold liquid soaks through to his fur, staining the green material a darker shade of brownish-green. He manages to put the now mostly-empty glass down and stands, frantically trying to wipe some of the orange juice away before it does any more damage.

Seeing his friend jump up, the fox puts his pillow down and motions for Dean to stop as well. "Oh, no," he consoles the wolf, walking quickly over to inspect the stain. "Sorry, wuffie. I guess we should tone it down."

The wolf looks up, his eyes almost shining with tears. He was dubious about this to begin with, and now he's made himself out to be some sort of clueless kid who would be better off behind a computer screen pawing off to an IM buddy. And, to top it all off, he's soaked through and becoming stickier by the minute. He can't tell whether he's trying too hard or not trying hard enough.

After throwing his pillow one last time at the retreating fox, Dean sees the situation and is up in a flash. Waving his arms flamboyantly, he says, "Hey! Don't wipe it like that! You're just putting it deeper into the fabric. Here, let me see." Before the other two can react, the ferret walks up behind the wolf, grabs the shirt at the bottom, and peels it roughly off the wolf, exposing his bare but moist chest.

Air hits the lupine's nipples, hardening them instantly, and his paws immediately go to cover himself. "What was that for?" He feels exposed, but not uncomfortable, and it makes him feel better to know this.

"Honey, I'm gay. I can get stains out of anything. I used to bartend, and when the night gets along people will spill whatever you pour for them. There's a trick to it...you just gotta know what to counteract." The ferret turns to the fox. "Hey, you mind if I use your laundry room?"

"Of course not, go ahead."

"Great!" Dean exclaims, and bounds into an adjacent room. The wolf watches in amazement after the ferret.

"He's great, isn't he?"

"Yeah. He sure knows a lot."

"Well...he knows a little about everything, but he's not an expert. One of those guys who lives by trial-and-error, you know."

The wolf runs a paw through his headfur, unaware of the fact that he's uncovered his naked torso and his paws are still tacky with half-dried orange juice. When he takes his paw away, the fur there sticks up in a rough Mohawk. The fox can't help but start to giggle, and it soon turns to an all-out laugh.

"What's so funny?" asks the wolf, starting to laugh himself. The fox leads him to the refrigerator, so he can see his reflection in its polished surface. His paws go to his muzzle, but it's too late. He sees his sorry state, his silver fur now a light brown color, looking like he just woke up from a bender. The lupine goes to his knees, his chest heaving from the effort. The fox follows.

Dean's voice bellows from the other room. "Are you having fun without me? You'd better let me in-oh, my God, what did you do?" He stops short, halfway through the door to the laundry room, when he catches sight of the two canids curled helplessly on the floor, and the wolf's mussed fur. They can only look at him and keep laughing, each helping to fuel the other. Finally, Dean has to drag them both back to the couch along the hardwood floor by the scruffs of their necks. By this time, they have both calmed down enough to wipe the tears from their eyes.

"For your information," Dean says in a put-upon voice, "your shirt's in the wash, and it will be just fine. The first five minutes are the most important for stain removal. Kind of like rushing it to the ER of laundry."

The wolf sniffles and says, "Thanks. I don't have many good shirts. That means a lot to me." The canids stand and follow Dean to the couch, where the cushions sag under their exhausted weight, forming exactly to their bodies. A short silence follows, during which all three think of things to say to start a conversation, but none of them want to be the first. Finally, not being able to stand a lull of any kind, the ferret pipes up.

"So," he says to the fox, "didja tell your friend here about how you're moonlighting down at Tips 'N' Tails?"

A small whimper escapes the fox's muzzle, one of surprise and a little discomfiture. The wolf looks at the vulpine, ears and eyebrows cocked. He's heard things about Tips 'N' Tails...wild things.

"Thanks, fuzzball," mutters the fox with fire ringing his violet eyes.

"I thought you had money from your parents," says the wolf, interested in this new turn of events.

"I do...but they can't keep me from moonlighting. I don't have to pay to live here, but that doesn't mean I can't earn a living on my own. I have this body," he says, shifting a bit from one hip to the other, his tail lazily swaying underneath him, "and it makes me a lot of money. There was one time, shortly after I came here, that I was so mad at my parents I wanted to ruin their lives for trying to buy me mine. I knew I could go out on the street and make tons of money off all the sick perverts out there. I did it once; I got this middle-aged closet-case who had a wife and three kids. He loved it when I mounted him." A look of nostalgia comes over the fox's face for a moment, but he shakes it off violently.

"Anyway, we were safe and all, but the next morning I woke up feeling so guilty. I got paid, but I never wanted to do it again. I realized that no matter how much I hated my parents, it wouldn't do me any good to ruin myself or my life just to make them mad. So, I got a job at Maxine's, shaking my scantily-clad tail off for the patrons' tips. I can act like myself, and flirt with whomever I choose, and I don't have to worry about getting some disease."

"Smart decision," says the wolf, at a loss for something more profound to say.

"Yeah...sometimes I can be so dumb," replies the fox. "Well, about two months ago I got referred by a friend-" the fox nods toward Dean, who sits quietly and smiles "-to try out this new dinner club downtown, called Tips 'N' Tails. They needed dancers for the after-dinner entertainment, and for some reason Mr. Terminal Caffeine here thought I had talent. I tried out and got hired on the spot. Boom. Extra money for me on the weekends when I'm not serving. As long as they keep me there, and I keep earning what I'm earning, I have no reason to quit. One job allows me to save up for school, the other allows me to live comfortably." The white vulpine lowers his head and appears to sigh heavily. "Sometimes it gets tiring."

"You seem to perk up when you collect your wad of cash at the end of the night," Dean pipes up.

"That's true. It is worth it, and I am good at it. So things work out." The wolf studies his friend closely, and thinks he sees weariness just behind those bright eyes and inviting grin. He does look tired, in a way.

Dean leans over, across the wolf, and grabs a remote control from the end table. He pushes a button, and suddenly the fireplace in front of them, just below a giant LCD television, comes to life with a soft foomph! "That's better."

"It's the middle of summer!" exclaims the wolf. "What good is that gonna do?"

"Silly wuffie, it's for atmosphere."

The fox catches a hidden undertone in the ferret's voice. "What are you thinking, Dean?" he asks suspiciously.

"I'm thinking, of course, that you should demonstrate your skills for your friend here. I'm sure he would love to see what you do to make so much cash."

The fox shakes his head. "I'm just a little tired. I've been on my feet all day, and my pads are killing me."

"Look over there," says Dean, pointing to the shiny black pole across the room. "What's all over the floor?"

"That's plush shag carpeting, sixteen dollars a square foot."

"Don't tell me that stuff'll keep you from dancing. It's like an orgasm just laying down on it! You bought it just because you could dance all you wanted without wearing your pads out. Remember? I helped you pick it out."

The wolf rapidly switches his ears from one side of the conversation to the other, trying to follow the exchange of quips. "Really, guys, if he doesn't want to-"

"Nonsense," says the fox suddenly, getting up and stretching his lithe back. "I've been feeling fat anyway lately. I need a workout."

"Good man!" Dean hoots, clapping. "What do you have in store for us tonight, dear?"

"Hmm...well, I do have a new routine I've been working on for next month. It's not perfect, but I have it choreographed to the end. You wanna watch me make a fool out of myself?"

"Yes," the ferret and wolf reply affirmatively and simultaneously.

Rolling his eyes, the fox saunters over to the pole, where a control panel sits attached to the wall. He touches a button, and the loft's lights dim to a soft amber glow. He touches another, and the pole is lit up in a warm reddish-orange light. He pushes a series of buttons, and the panel gets ready to play. The fox pauses the music before it starts, turns on his toes and points an accusatory claw at Dean.

"You owe me, big time."

"I'll pay up in full."

"You better." With that, the white fox turns back to the console and pushes PLAY. A soft jazz melody pipes into the room from all corners through an intricate and expensive sound system. Only seconds into the song, the wolf recognizes it immediately as "Fever." Dean is already tapping his foot to the beat, one arm around the wolf's neck.

As the lyrics begin, the fox snaps his head back, padding sultrily around the pole, as if to tease it. His white toes and black claws are lost, sinking deep into the plush carpeting as he sashays to and fro, eyes half closed in concentration, but always on the wolf. The leather pants stretch but give little, outlining the sinews of his leg muscles and, the lupine can clearly see, a growing arousal from the friction, in perfect relief between his legs.

Dean, still watching the performance, leans over and whispers in one silver ear: "We'd better get that OJ off before it dries." The wolf nods, wondering why the ferret picked a time like this to say a thing like that. His question is answered when Dean leans back on his side of the couch, taking the wolf with him, and placing him so he is laying on top and slightly to one side of his lap. It's more comfortable than sitting up, and the wolf finds himself relaxing even more. The sight of that white fox, his beautiful body twirling and bending around the pole, captures most of his attention.

He does notice, however, when the ferret starts licking his headfur. "Mmm," he says in between licks. "I can still taste the vodka." He laps at the silver fur expertly, matting it down with his smooth tongue, but cleaning the wolf's head thoroughly.

At first, the wolf thought about objecting to it, telling Dean he was invited by the fox and doesn't want to make anyone feel awkward, but as he felt the ferret's tongue on him he saw the vulpine smile as he danced, and pick up his pace a bit. Laying there with a warm body underneath him, and another, very hot body displaying itself in front of him, he finds the grooming to be almost better than a massage. He feels like he is drunk, but his aborted screwdriver has nothing to do with it.

The fox watches with growing interest and arousal as Dean cleans his friend, thinking that he would like one of those as well. His pants become tighter, the friction from the leather driving his cock from its hiding place and against their smooth inner surface. The first chorus comes from the speakers, and he throws his shoulders back, twitching them slightly so the black vest, already loose on him, slides down and off one arm. He uses the other arm, attached to the pole, to whirl himself in a circle until he switches feet. With a swish of his tail and a flick of the wrist, the vest drops to the floor, and his white-furred chest glows the same color as the lights.

Dean finishes with the wolf's head and pushes him up, no longer watching the action, but with a different performance in mind. Once the wolf is sitting up, and before he can object (like he would, watching the sexy vulpine) the ferret drops to his knees between the wolf's spread legs. He leans forward and drags his small nose up from the lupine's pants to his nipples, out around either side of his chest and back down again, searching out the borders of the orange juice stain.

The arousal, apparently, is shared by all three furs, the wolf not the least of them. Watching the ferret sliding along his chest takes him back to the night he "met" the fox: of the trepidation he felt after the incident in the dishroom, the mixture of fear and uncontrollable lust when he saw the fox watching while he pawed himself in the bathroom, and the beating of his heart, strong in his temples, as he felt his seed coating the vulpine's throat as he experienced what he is sure was the most intense climax of his life. Now his sheath, fat and straining at his jeans, practically bats Dean on the chin as he explores the silvery chestfur, darting his tongue out to taste here, tease a nipple to erection there...his eyes are torn between a ferret and a hard fox.

Feeling the music coursing through his body now, and fully into his performance, the fox jerks and sways his hips at the right moment, the pressure of an audience pushing him to do his absolute best to impress. But every time he stands up, a jolt of pain pierces his trapped foxhood, and he knows he must get out of his pants, and soon. Easy enough. He turns, facing away from the two furs on the couch, knowing full well that the wolf is watching his every move. Thin white arms caress his sides as they travel up his body, his wrists revolving over the tops of his shoulders. They come back down, and he hooks his thumbs into the leather waistband and pushes.

The material slides easily down over his silky buttocks, aided by the fact that they ride low on his hips and pull up against the base of his tail instead of hooking over it with a button. Halfway down, he adjusts himself incognito and his cock is finally free. The pants go further down, approaching his knees, and he stops to look over his shoulder. The wolf is enjoying Dean's scrupulous grooming of his chest, and watching with wide eyes as the fox displays his most erotic bits one inch at a time.

Dean loses his calm demeanor every time he licks through the tasty lupine fur, digging in all the way to the skin. He works against the grain, lifting it in patches, cleaning, then patting it back down. In no time, he's cleaned everything from the wolf's navel to his nipples, and the ferret decides to pay special attention to the pink nubs of flesh poking out. By the time the fox has his pants down around his knees and is squatting along the pole, displaying his backside and just a hint of his balls, making the wolf start to pant with desire, Dean's muzzle is wrapped around the wolf's left nipple and nursing hungrily.

The pants work their way from the fox's knees to the ground, slipping effortlessly over his feet and getting kicked out of the way as the song comes to its feverish climax. The fox squats down, letting the wolf get a good and tempting view of his snowy balls, and sweeps his tail through his legs and holds it against him as he spins around the pole, once again facing the wolf, his genitals hidden by his fluffy tail. He nuzzles it, barely able to mask the lust in his eyes, and waits for the song to wind down.

Trying his best not to hump against Dean's chin, the wolf finds it very difficult to keep focused on the nude fox in front of him. He finds that his nipples are VERY sensitive, and the ferret's tongue is stretching them to new heights. His chest rises and falls with ragged intakes of air, making Dean appear to undulate below him. The fox commands his attention again, the violet stare holding his eyes with abandon. He wants to scream for the vulpine to drop his tail, just move it, anything to get a glimpse of what he wants most. All his previous fears and worries about tonight, and the thought that he needs to impress someone here, are drowned...partly by the lust coursing through his veins, partly because behind the fox's intense look he can see true attraction, and suddenly he doesn't feel like a kid anymore.

A subtle vibration from his crotch brings his gaze back to the ferret. Now licking the indentation of fur between his collarbones, Dean's paws have migrated downward, and the vibration he felt was his fly being undone. Now the button is unhooked, and the lupine is happy to oblige by lifting his hips as the ferret pulls his jeans down to pool at his feet. Dean wastes no time, moving his muzzle down to groom the wolf's sheath, feeling the hardness straining within, but refusing to release it: an ultimate act of torture. He begins to growl through a clenched jaw.

The song goes into its final thirty seconds, and the fox sees fit to finally reveal himself. Going into a series of full-body movements around the pole, he releases his tail, feeling the twinges of pleasure as it slides the length of his body and over his cock...and the wolf jerks on the couch, claws clutching the ferret's shoulders. He watches, entranced, as the vulpine feels the end coming, perspiration breaking out under his fur from the effort. With one final flair, he climbs up the pole, wraps his legs tight around it, and arches his back to lay along its length. His cock points to the floor, small drips of precum glistening at its tapered tip, begging to be released from the hot, throbbing flesh.

The wolf can only lay his head back, barely able to keep his eyes on the fox's hanging, panting body. Dean has two fingers held tightly over the tip of his sheath, preventing his cock from exiting its warm home but driving him nearly crazy at the same time. The ferret licks up and over the pouch of fur, down over his balls, the alternating warm tongue and cold snout causing him to hunch lewdly.

Holding his pose to the very end, the fox hears the track come to a stop. He loosens his legs just slightly, allowing himself to slide to the floor without banging the back of his head. After crumpling to a white heap, he regains his strength and walks over to the couch, where Dean is servicing a very frustrated lupine. The look on his muzzle is a combination of anger and pleasure, the feral look of an animal that is being denied something essential to its being.

Putting a paw on the back of Dean's head, he says, "Let him out, dear...I don't think he can take much more." The ferret complies, releasing his fingers, hearing first the wolf's sigh as five inches of his wolfhood is exposed after such undue entrapment, then his moans of unexpected pleasure as Dean strokes him a few times, just for good measure.

"Sorry I didn't get to see you dance," says the ferret with a guilty smile, "but he was too tasty to resist."

"Apparently, saliva does a good job on getting orange juice out of fur."

"Apparently." Dean stands, giving the wolf a moment's rest, and takes the fox's head in his paws. "You'll have to do a repeat performance for me sometime," he mutters just before touching his lips to the fox's. A paw grips the vulpine erection and caresses its pink length, its owner moaning into the ferret's muzzle as they engage in a fervent kiss. The wolf watches with detached interest, just glad to be freed of the uncomfortable pressure in his groin.

As the fox roams his tongue around inside the ferret's muzzle, his paws are busily undressing the rest of him. Within easy reach, the silk boxers slide to the floor, and the two part for just a second while his T-shirt slips between them. The wolf decides it's as good a time as any to follow suit, and with a shake of his legs the rest of his clothes are on the floor beside him.

At last the fox breaks the kiss, dazedly looking at Dean and panting a little. "You must be awfully horny. You've never used your tongue like that before."

"It's been a long time. Can you tell?"

"Yes. Oh!" the fox exclaims, and turns to the wolf with embarrassment on his face. The expression turns to a lusty smile as the sleek vulpine pads over to the sitting wolf, his maleness bobbing as he goes. He leans over the very erect lupine, just like before in the restroom at Maxine's, and touches noses with him. This time it's the wolf who takes a long, slow lick from the underside of the fox's chin to the top of his snout. He tastes male ferret, and just a hint of orange. "Did you like the show?" the fox asks, barely hiding the husky tone of his voice.

"Very much. No wonder you make such good money. You looked worried just now. Did you forget something?"

Blushing, the vulpine replies, "Well, yeah. I was just thinking we've never been properly introduced."

The wolf giggles. "I guess you're right. That's easy enough, I'm-" he offers his paw to the fox, who pushes it out of the way and presses one of his fingers to the lupine's lips. Before he can question the fox, paws are gripping his ankles and raising his legs. They go high, over his shoulders, until gravity bends his knees to his chest, and he feels his hind end pulled open. He can only watch as the fox's head dives down and his nose disappears below his fuzzy scrotum, followed a moment later by a coldness right on his tailhole.

Gasping in surprise at his unexpected sensitivity in that area, his gaze locks on Dean, who stands just behind the fox stroking his erection, watching them both with an oh-no-here-he-goes-again look. The coldness roots deeper, and the wolf can feel the rush of warm air as the fox exhales onto his hole, then colder air as he inhales deeply, searching for the essence of his scent. His narrow vulpine snout succeeds in opening him up just a little, and the wolf's heart jumps a few beats.

Seeing his chance, the fox switches his nose for his long, thin tongue when he senses an opening. He catches it just as the wolf threatens to close up in pure reaction, and the open-muzzled moan from above encourages him to continue inward. The wolf finally finds relaxation possible, and yields to the warm visitor inside of him. He curls up as tight as he can, sliding his back along the slick leather so the fox has the best access possible. He watches in fascination as his cock pulses lewdly along the length of his belly; each time that tongue pushes, he humps into the air and finally, when the vulpine can go no further, his grey sheath slides effortlessly over his growing knot. The fur around his navel is already matted with precum.

With one long last swipe from tailhole to sheath, the fox comes up for air. He licks his lips satisfactorily, eyes closed as if savoring an exotic flavor.

"Mmmmrrr...nice to meet you."

"Likewise," the wolf murmurs, very much liking this way of introduction. Now he offers his paw, which is taken and shaken firmly but delicately. "I'm Markus."

"Trystan."

"Nice to finally meet you too. You have a very pretty name."

"You have a very pretty everything," replies the fox, running a claw down the wolf's perineum and taking delight in an eye-rolling gasp of pleasure. "But I'd really rather change places. What do you say, wuffie? I think you've earned it."

No response is needed; Markus reaches his arms out to Trystan, who takes them and twirls the wolf around so now he is the one sitting on the couch, feeling the heat left by the lupine body that previously occupied the cushions. Dean sits down next to the fox, whimpering, "Where do I fit in this little puppy sandwich? I wanna have fun too!"

Raising his feet to the couch, Trystan says, "You can join in anytime. I'm not stopping you, and I'm sure the wuffie won't mind. Will you?" Markus does not answer, but only stares drooling at the white-rimmed tailhole he can't believe he will be penetrating in a matter of minutes. Dean smiles patiently, content for now to watch the wolf "broken in."

The fox props his buttocks on his paws and elevates his legs to a vertical position. "Come on!" he manages through squeezed lungs. "I can't hold this much longer!" Markus bends forward, taking the fox's legs onto his shoulders, and places his paws on either side of his head. He looks downward, seeing the tip of his wolfhood pulsing and bobbing against Trystan's tailhole. Part of him wants to give in and yiff the hell out of him, another part wants to pleasure the fox forever. He looks up again, and into those angelic eyes.

The vulpine caresses Markus' forearms, tenderness on his face. "Oh dear, you're trembling."

The wolf replies in a shaky voice. "Uh-huh. I'm scared," he says, unable to think of a better, more masculine excuse.

"Oh, come on," says Dean, comforting the wolf. "We're not here to scare you. We're here to have fun. You have been, haven't you?"

A choked laugh escapes Markus' muzzle, and whatever ice he thought he could feel has been shattered again. His self-induced cloud of doubt and fear is all but gone. And his cock has never wavered from attention. "Oh, yeah."

"Then just push," says Dean.

"Um, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you help us out a little?"

"What do you n-oh..." says the ferret, at last realizing what Trystan needs. He reaches over, telling the wolf not to move, and wraps his thumb and forefinger around the lupine cock just behind his knot. Immediately Markus begins to thrust madly, driven by some primal sensation running the length of his spine and his maleness. Thin squirts of precum coat the fox's tailhole, and when he's satisfied Dean lets go and uses his fingers to spread it along and into him, lubricating both Trystan's entrance and Markus' cock.

"Thanks," says Trystan. "That could've hurt otherwise."

The wolf cocks his head, a quizzical expression on his muzzle. "How could I possibly hurt you?"

"Honey, have you seen the size of your cock lately?" Dean asks. "You're quite the tailful."

"You're kidding me."

"He's right," Trystan pipes up. "You're the biggest I've ever taken. You should be proud of yourself; a lot of my friends would kill for a cock like that, on them or inside." He catches the wolf's reaction to his compliment and adds, "Now stop blushing and let's...have...fun."

Markus, unable to do much else, shows his gratitude by inching his hips slowly downward, his flesh meeting the fox's flesh and parting it easily. The head goes through the first ring, and Trystan grits his teeth and growls at the always-odd sensation of penetration.

"Are you all right?" asks the silver wolf.

The fox nods. "Peachy. Now hilt me, puppy." There is an undertone in his voice that says there is no turning back now; the vulpine has tasted wolf and he wants more. Markus obliges by dancing a bit on his feet and leaning in, feeling the fox's tight inner ring give way around his cockhead. Three inches of him disappear, and the wolf is sure that he's damaging something inside Trystan when he hears an intake of air through gritted teeth. His fears are allayed, however, when he sees the fox is smiling with his eyes closed, enjoying the sensation immensely. For the next minute or so, Markus applies gentle pressure, seemingly able to feel every contour of the vulpine's tailhole, until he can go no further without tying.

Dean, having pawed himself to the brink twice already while watching the erotic canines, finally decides to join in. "My turn," he sings as he swings his legs onto the couch and crawls towards Trystan's lap.

"What are you thinking?" asks the fox with a suspicious grin.

"I'm thinking I've always liked being the meat of the sandwich...and my rear end's been lonely for too long." With that, the ferret straddles the fox, taking the burden of his legs onto his own shoulders, and wriggling his hips so the vulpine's cock is lined up with the underside of his tail. In fact, when he backs down all the way, his tailbase is pushed forcibly upwards, spreading his tailhole for him. Leaning down to kiss Trystan once more, he settles onto the fox, pausing once to cry out at the long-awaited pain of being breached, but quickly getting used to the length inside of him. The look on the fox's face is all he needs.

After gathering his breath, Trystan speaks up. "This is comfortable, isn't it?" The ferret and wolf above him both nod.

"I'm afraid if I start moving I'm going to explode."

The impaled fox laughs up at him. "Silly wuffie. You can go as fast or as slow as you want, as long as you sink that beautiful big knot into me. Don't worry about impressing either of us. If you hadn't done that already, you wouldn't be here."

"Ok-okay." The wolf withdraws, grimacing at the tight fit around him, his balls threatening to release at even the slightest provocation. No longer is he worried about what the others might think of him; the look on the fox's face is enough to let him know there is nothing he could do to disappoint. Dean's thick tail presses against his chest, trying to wag but not succeeding. He leans in again, his knot sliding up and bumping Trystan's hole and causing double moans in harmony.

Dean leans forward and locks muzzles with the fox, using his knees to push himself forward and back over Trystan's length. He breathes in every time the vulpine exhales, stealing his every breath, his cock all but bursting over the white chest below him.

The room becomes silent except for the sounds of three hearts beating and three sets of lungs working overtime. Markus leans forward a bit and finds it much easier to thrust with his arms wrapped around the ferret's chest. He looks down at them and wishes he could be sharing in that kiss. The fox's eyes are closed, and they screw even tighter when the wolf bottoms out inside him. Trystan's tailhole squeezes incessantly, torturing his sensitive flesh and threatening to draw him in all the way. Soon his hips pump in a regular rhythm as he finds the best angle with which to mate the fox.

Trystan is going wild, and Dean knows it. If there is one thing the fox does when yiffing, it's being vocal. The more pleasure he receives, the more noise comes from his muzzle. Through their locked lips and battling tongues he hears and feels moans and grunts of encouragement meant for the two furs servicing him. He grinds against the vulpine's torso, heavily impaling himself repeatedly on the fox's cock, wanting to tie but waiting for the right moment...the moment when Markus finally can hold back no more.

Thrashing his head to one side, the fox breaks Dean's hold on his muzzle with a wet pop and breathes in a low, harsh tone. "Oh, God, wuffie I'm so close..." His eyes finally open and the two canines lock gazes. Markus has done a pretty good job so far of keeping his cool, but he sees the need in Trystan's eyes and knows what he must do. He continues to pump into the fox's backside; the fox humps upwards every time he thrusts, driving himself hard into the ferret who alternates his movements to oppose the wolf's.

White paws roam crazily over Dean's back, the claws mussing up the mix of brown fur there. They clench with each thrust and are accented with a high yip from the fox. His head buried in the couch cushions, all he can do is gasp and yell out as he feels himself brought perilously close to climax. Only one thing is needed to bring him over...

Markus' knees hurt from the constant pressure of standing on his toes to mate the fox. He holds Dean for balance and support, and he slows down, trading rapidity for pressure. He thinks he can go no further, but his knot stretches Trystan to new widths each time he pushes in. All three go silent as the wolf strives to make the vulpine his the best way he knows how. Pulling on the ferret's sides to aid himself, he gives out a growl of frustration just before something inside of Trystan rips-he can feel it give way-and all at once his knot sinks into hot, wet flesh.

A scream issues forth from the arctic fox's muzzle, melting into a sound reminiscent of a wounded animal as he feels himself torn open around the lupine cock. At last it's inside of him, and the pain eases almost immediately. Hearing the scream from the vulpine, Dean lowers himself down and back, burying Trystan's own knot within him. He watches with satisfaction as the fox, tears of mixed pain and pleasure running down the sides of his muzzle, claws into his hips and moans unintelligibly.

Markus can no longer contain himself; as soon as he's tied Trystan clamps down hard on the base of his wolfhood and, just like when Dean used his fingers before, a chill runs the length of him. Like a rutting dog he spreads his legs and pumps quickly towards orgasm. Dean can only sit there and wait until the wolf is finished, not able to keep up with his increased thrusts. Instead he lets Markus do all the work, driving the fox hard up into him. Besides, he can barely contain his own climax, so close with the feeling of Trystan's soft fur caressing his cock as he moves with Markus' motions.

The fox's eyes go wide and he stares at the ferret. His lips move but no sound comes from them. His tailhole is afire, his prostate massaged roughly by the big, beautiful knot he has dreamed of since he first set eyes on the wolf. Dean matches his gaze, watching orgasm rip through his flexible frame. He feels his tailhole stretch, and Trystan tries to hump but finds himself trapped beneath two bodies. Instead he pants hard, releasing a copious amount of foxcum into the ferret.

The wolf crashes headlong over the edge, his climax so abrupt and strong he has to bend over the ferret's back and stand on his toes. As far as he can get into Trystan, he tenses as his long-tortured balls finally empty into the tight hole that milks him for everything he has, feeling the vulpine's ecstasy through his spurting cock.. His paw happens to brush against a certain hot shaft of skin, and there's only one thing to do.

Feeling the two canines panting in front and behind him, Dean is surprised when his erection is gripped hard in silvery fingers. He jerks forward, both hindered and excited when he finds he can't move because he is tied to the fox. That doesn't stop him from forcing Trystan's swollen cock up and down within his hole...anything to get the release he's waited for all this time.

"Dean...please, no...I can't take it," Trystan finally manages through gritted teeth. Roughly taken out of his post-coital afterglow, the fox is still hyper-sensitive. But the ferret hears none of it and continues thrusting into that blessedly soft paw, the pressure on his prostate incredible. He can practically see himself coming. Words come to his ears, but he silences them with a quick bite to the fox's exposed neck. He clamps down hard with his short muzzle and sharp teeth, and the paw on him finds a better, quicker angle. Now it concentrates on the head, and he can take it no more.

The ferret whines around Trystan's white fur and pulls himself farther still onto that paw, raising himself off the vulpine's knot in the process. Dean's paws clench on his shoulders as he pulls hard, ignoring the flaming pain and the wet pop as he slides free. Clear precum becomes thicker and whiter, spraying onto his chest, over Markus' paw and puddles on the fox's chest, blending with his fur. Thankfully the wolf stopps stroking him and just squeezes as he comes; anything more would have caused him to tear the fox's neck wide open. Markus withdraws his paw and the ferret collapses, tail still raised, onto Trystan.

The loft is overcome with silence once again; not even the furs' labored breathing can be heard. Against the lights hanging from the ceiling, small tendrils of steam rise from the pile of sweaty fur on the leather couch. There is a small puddle of white on the wood floor underneath them.

Markus tries to pull away and is surprised when Trystan's abused tailhole lets him go without a fight. A small stream of wolfcum, slightly pink, adds to the pool on the floor. He stumbles backward on weak legs and falls into a well-places ottoman. His cock is a deep red and still throbbing hard. He watches it as his knot disappears and lets his silver sheath slide back over. When he looks up again, Dean has rolled off Trystan, and the fox is standing over him, paw extended. He takes it and stands with ease.

"So," the vulpine coos, trying not to sound exhausted, "How was that, wuffie?"

"It was nice getting to know you," Markus replies without missing a beat. To his own surprise, he takes the fox by the waist and kisses him fully on the mouth, pulling him closer as Trystan complies without hesitation. It is a kiss without thought or provocation, and the wolf finds himself thinking for the first time that he wants this beautiful creature in more ways than sexually. He is completely unaware, however, that Trystan is thinking the exact same thing at that moment.

An unsettling growl breaks their embrace. They both look over to see Dean on the couch, clutching his cock in one paw and his stomach in the other. Looking sheepish, he says, "I guess I worked up an appetite."

"You're not the only one," agrees the fox. "I was hungry before we started. Now I'm starving. I feel all empty inside." He stops, turns and smiles at the wolf. "Well, my stomach's empty." The wolf giggles, blushing.

"So what do you guys feel like?" asks Markus. The three look at each other, and only one thing comes to mind.

"Maxine's!"

"I'll make the call," Dean says. He gets up, putting his boxers back on as he moves to the phone. The fox and wolf do the same, donning just their underclothes and plopping back on the couch. Trystan grabs the remote and turns the fire off, presses another button, and turns the LCD television to look for the weather report.

Markus turns to the fox, a question burning in his mind. "Trystan?"

"Yeah?" the fox replies, roughing up the wolf's headfur.

"Did I...did I do okay?"

Trystan looks at the wolf quizzically. "This wasn't your first time, was it?"

"Oh, no, but...I'm not used to all the, um, attention. I'm really self-conscious around other people, and especially with Dean here it was hard to concentrate."

The fox snickers. "You seemed to do a pretty good job of it, from what I could tell. I'll say this: tomorrow morning when I get out of bed, I bet I'm going to find some blood. To me, that's a sign of a very good night before. Markus, you were wonderful. Don't worry so much, it makes you flaccid quicker than an ice cube under your balls."

"Hey!" Dean yells from the kitchen phone. "What do you guys want?"

"Do you care?" the fox asks Markus.

"No."

"Whatever the special is, two of them! We don't care!"

"Okay!"

Markus lowers his voice and says, "Thanks for letting me be on top. I can't-"

Trystan pauses, waiting for the wolf to finish his sentence. He looks pensive, as if he's thinking out what he's going to say next. "You can't what?"

"I can't wait to return the favor," Markus says quietly.

The wolf's sincerity astonishes the fox. He is touched that his friend, who was so introverted and shy just a few weeks ago, could be so candid with him.

"Food should be here in half an hour," Dean interrupts as he vaults over the back of the couch and lands next to the canines. "That asshole Harry's gonna make us wait," he says in a put-upon manner.

"How do you know Harry?" asks Markus, and his curiosity is piqued when the fox and ferret look at each other and exchange knowing smiles.

"Should we tell him?"

"Don't you think we have to?"

"Yeah."

"WHAT?" the wolf almost yells at them.

"Well..." Trystan puts a paw on the lupine's shoulder, "Since you did such a good job tonight, I guess I can tell you. You seem to think that you can get everywhere in life on your own, not depending on anyone else for anything. I told you before that all you had to do was ask and I'd see what I could do to help you. You didn't believe me, did you?"

Markus looks down, a bit shamed. "Not really, no."

"But I keep my promises, and I can pull strings you would never think could be pulled. It just so happens that Dean here is second in command only to Harry in the kitchen at Maxine's."

The wolf's jaw drops as he looks at the ferret in disbelief. "But I've never seen you before! I'm in that kitchen, like, all day!"

"I do a lot of the paperwork, and come in occasionally to help out with the big rushes. But I keep a low profile, so it's no wonder you didn't recognize me."

"Anyway," the fox continues, "tonight was supposed to be a test of sorts. If you proved yourself a wolf as randy as he is sexy, and able to 'conduct himself' properly, Dean here promised me he would try you out in the kitchen. We both knew you would do fine anyway. In the end, it wasn't much of a contest. I think we were all too occupied for that to matter. So it comes down to this: I got you moved up to the kitchen, not on a trial basis but full-time. I was tired of seeing all your time wasted on dirty dishes and scraping plates. You're better than that...I know it. I want to see you happier. Okay?"

Markus looks from the fox to the ferret, seeking confirmation that what he's said is true. Dean nods slowly, barely able to contain his smile. "Test or no test, you are one hell of a cool guy. And you should know that. Why not? It's two bucks more an hour, and I think you can handle it."

The wolf sighs deeply, feeling as if one of his life's burdens has been lifted, feeling a little more complete than he has in a while. He throws his arms around the fox, burying his head in the fluffy chest, still a little sticky in parts. Torn between laughing and crying in joy, he is content to just inhale the fox's comforting aroma, and feel not alone. He looks up, and is immediately lost in those violet eyes again...they are inescapable.

"Thank-" a finger comes to his lips, shushing him.

"Uh-uh. None of that. Just work hard and do a good job." The wolf nods and nuzzles his chin like a puppy. The fox murrs and has to shove Markus back. "Stoppit, you're making me hard all over again."

Dean stands and asks, "When do you think you can start?"

"Right away, if that's fine with you!" Markus answers emphatically.

"Great. I'll take care of that right now." The ferret goes to the phone and presses the speed-dial to Maxine's. He smiles as he watches the fox and wolf sitting in each other's arms again, just holding paws this time. He recognizes the signs of budding affection in Markus' eyes; he's seen that look plenty of times before. He can't help but be happy for the wolf. What truly warms his heart is that he can see the same look, albeit well-hidden, in a particular set of deep violet eyes as well.

Harry picks up the other end of the line at Maxine's, the din of the kitchen making it near impossible to hear his voice. "Hey, Harry!"

"Yeah, what?"

"I'm afraid you're going to need a new dishwasher."

FIN

11/25-12/26/04