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Part One: It Begins

_ Michael: _

It was over. That much was clear. My tail hung listlessly, the moisture in the air clinging to the fur, dampening it thoroughly. The fur on the rest of my body was somewhat dryer, due to the fact that I wore a long coat over shirt, pants, and shoes, and had a hat firmly planted on my head.

The rain fell rather softly, and the dreary evening left a grey pall over the entire town. I walked briskly down the sidewalk, the wind buffeting me from the side, and blowing the rain into frenzied sheets at my face. Even the feral dogs that roamed the streets were compelled to seek shelter at this time.

The temperature dropped quickly as the sun continued its incessant journey westward, and downward. As I walked, rain turned to sleet, then snow. I had yet to reach my destination, but still I walked, unheeding of the inclement conditions.

Yes, it was over. My love life had simply ended with the note left by my boyfriend, a fennec named Cory. Cory had written that he was no longer attracted to me. He'd found a muscled-up horse that could please him and make him happy. "It's not that I hate you, Mike," the letter read."It's that he loves me more." I was deeply disturbed and depressed. I knew it was not my size that was the issue. After all, I have dragon-blood. I am a hybrid of Leopard and Forest Dragon. I'm not exactly small down there. So, size and ability was not the answer.

I believed I knew why. I own nothing. I rent my apartment. I use public transportation. I work as a porter at an apartment complex across the street, making just enough to stay afloat. I have chronic clinical depression. Cory couldn't stand not having money. And, frankly, I could not blame him.

So, as much as I hated it, moving on was precisely what I intended to do. Which was why I was trudging down the sidewalk in the snow to meet with my best friend from childhood, a fox named Blaine Eric Timmons. I had always had a soft spot in my heart for the lively, athletic fox with a swimmer's build.

Blaine stood just 165 centimeters tall, the tops of his ears just able to brush my chin. He was one of those who had such a vibrant attitude, it seemed to spread to all those around him. What was even more astounding to me, was this: Blaine possessed a very substantial IQ, and had graduated with a Law Degree from the university up-country. Yet, he refused to use the degree. Instead, he opened a corner coffee shop and deli. And business was booming. If I were honest with myself, I'd have admitted that I had always had a rather large crush on him, but never was able to tell him.

Now, entering the shop, I waved at Blaine, and walked to the counter, where Blaine was overseeing two baristas and a cook. I ordered a spiced chai latte' and a turkey and swiss on rye panini. Upon receiving it, I seated myself in one of the numerous booths along the wall, affording me the ability to surreptitiously observe the object of my hitherto ignored affections.

I quietly ate, and was fully concentrated upon my food and drink, when the quiet voice of my friend impinged upon my ear. "Mind if I join you, hun?"

"Not in the least, Blaine. You are always welcome to sit with me," I said, a bit too honestly, and blushed as the words left my tongue.

The fox smiled softly, and sat across the table from me, a tall mocha in one paw. He looked me in the eye, and his smile faded slightly."What's wrong, Mikey?" He was the only one that could get away with using that nickname. Not even Cory got that privilege.

I looked up, somewhat startled that he could so easily detect my mood. Without a word, I dug into my pocket and withdrew the now-crumpled letter Cory had written, and passed it to him. As he read it, tears began to course down my snout and cheeks, and I was unable to stop them. Head down, I silently waited for him to speak. When he did, it was with a heady combination of passion and calm, that did nothing for my mood.

"I... I am so sorry, Mikey. I had no idea..."

"I found the letter this morning, laying on my work-desk." I buried my face in my paws and shook, crying. "I never could have guessed he'd do this."

I then felt the warm arms and body of a fox wrapped around me in sympathy and concern. I leaned into the warmth, and simply stayed.

I remembered all the things about Blaine I loved, his quirky smile, heady energy, active tail, and without realizing, said out loud, "I love you..."

Blaine stiffened and said, "I... I dunno what to say, Mikey... I mean, what about your love for Cory?"

It was then, I realized my mistake, and jumped up, embarrassed, and pulled my coat on, then ran for home, heedless of the weather. All the way home, I beat myself up for my slip, hating my emotions.

I entered my small apartment, called my boss, asked for a vacation, got it, and promptly planted myself in my bed, fully intending not to wake up.

_ Blaine: _

There are few things I enjoy more than seeing people walk away happy, after a good coffee and a well made deli sandwich. As such, I love my job. But only one thing in this world has ever caused me pain.

That moment came when Michael left the store after blurting out his admission of love.

I, of course, blundered and stuttered my way out of telling him my own true feelings by asking him about his feelings for his ex. It was then he ran out, embarrassed, and practically disappeared.

I sat like a stone for at least an hour, not seeing the workers cleaning up around me. When I finally woke from my stupor, I went upstairs to my apartment, and crumpled to the bed, crying. I fell asleep with my clothes on.

Next morning, I showered, shaved, then went downstairs. The shop had been opened by my assistant manager, who, upon seeing me, immediately came to me and said in her quiet way, "Boss, let me run the place today. You have too much going on. And, by the way, you need to figure out why the boy ran last night."

Her perception was stunning. This human woman was not short on wisdom. I sighed, and asked, "What do you know, Edie?"

She smiled and said, "Enough to know you haven't been yourself since he started dating that fennec. I think, Blaine, you have loved him for a while, now, and did not know it."

As usual, I was stunned by the perceptive nature of the human. "Edie, if I didn't like you so much, and didn't need you here, I'd think awfully hard about terminating you here and now." I said this, fully knowing I didn't mean a word of it, and showing it with a wide grin. "That said, Edie, I trust you as usual, to keep this shop. Goodnight, Edie."

Edie smiled tenderly. "Take care and go get that Cat."

I smiled and headed out the door, jumped into my car and headed toward Mikey's apartment. There was nothing more I wanted than to curl up in his arms and let all the world disappear into the abyss. Well, that and other things more interesting and titillating, to be sure. I became rather self-assured that what I had to do, I would do, and all others be damned.

So, it was that with a resolute heart, I pulled into the parking lot of his workplace, a rather expensive looking apartment block that had a porter service. It was this porter service Mikey worked for. I parked in the Visitors Only Parking and walked to the reception desk. A tall female rabbit sat at the desk and smiled as I entered. "Can I help you, sir?" Her soft voice sounded somewhat hollow, in comparison with my Mikey's voice. Yes, I had become possessive of him.

"I'm looking for Michael Drake, a porter for this complex."

"Let me see if he is available." She pulled a hand-held two-way radio out of a drawer and keyed it. "Central to Mike Drake."

A scratchy, but intensely familiar voice came from the speakers, "Drake here, Over."

"Drake, please come to Central. A visitor for you, over."

A pause, then, "Alright. On my way, central. Drake out."

"Central out." She put the two-way radio back into the charger, and looked up at me. "Go ahead and have a seat, sir. He'll be right there."

I thanked her then sat in a seat near the door. After about ten minutes, the door swung open letting in the most pleasant musk I have ever smelt. I knew without looking who it was. Mikey...

I stood and faced him. "Mikey.."

Michael:

I slept hard. Dreams came and went. I cannot say I ever really rested. The words of the real love of my life kept intruding and making sleep the most restless thing I could have done. However, sleep I did. And when the alarm jangled it's hideous noise in my ear, I dutifully rose and showered, shaved the scraggly fur from my snout, trimmed the whiskers, sneezing in response, as usual, and dressed for work.

I walked across the road to my job, signed in, and began work. As a porter, I had cleaning duties and today was no different. I had been sent to clean out a recently emptied unit. I fully intended to pour myself into my work.

I was well into the job, and had made significant progress, when the radio I carried on my hip crackled and called my name. Apparently a guest was asking for me. So, like the obedient drone, I locked the rooms, and headed for central.

I opened the front door, and was immediately assaulted by a scent I never wanted to smell again. Blaine. And now he stood in front of me. Why must he torment me now? The thought was so cogent, I could not move because now, fear of confrontation filled my bones.

His voice started, "Mikey..." The voice, as usual, went right to my soul, and I started to wilt. "Don't go... We need to talk..."

I suddenly was angry. "Oh? Really? I simply told you what I felt about you and you had to go and make me a fool? Really? Is that what I get for fifteen years of friendship to you? Do I really rate that low on your affection meter?" My voice had now raised to a shout, and I was definitely spurting smoke from my nostrils. "You hurt me, -BLAINE-, and now you expect to talk? Try again, -BLAINE-!" With that, I turned and headed out the door.

I called my supervisor, told him I was sick, and where the equipment was, and headed home. I locked myself into my apartment, and didn't leave. In fact, my boss was kind enough to give me several weeks off. He said, "You need time to heal. You lost your partner, and you have lost a friend. Anyone would hurt. Go heal. Your job will still be here. I promise." He'd always been honest with me, so I believed him. I shut myself into my flat, only leaving for supplies.

When I needed to, I cleaned. When I didn't, I cleaned. After one week, the flat simply sparkled. Everything was in its place. Except for one thing. The flat was in good shape. I was not.

When the flat was finished, I broke. I fell onto my bed and cried my heart out again. Long hours I spent on my face. I hurt, and I felt lost.

~=~=~=~

Part 2: Pursuit and Capture

I had no idea how long I sat, alone, staring at the wall, not caring. I would sleep, eat a bite, stare at the wall, exercise for two hours, then stare at the wall. I was, despite my exercising, little more than a vegetable. Had I been honest with myself, I was killing myself.

This continued, with my cell-phone receiving repeated texts and voice-mails from Blaine. Messages I automatically deleted. Finally one day, I looked at a text, and read what it said.

Mikey, I know you are pissed at me. And I know you're probably deleting my messages. But if by some chance you get this, please call me. I don't want to lose you as a friend. I am sorry I hurt you. This is the last time I will contact you, Mikey. Please call me.

I nearly broke again, but this time from guilt. An hour I waited, then picked up the cell phone again, and flicked to his number. I paused a moment, then dialed his number. Almost immediately, I heard that voice I adored. Immediately, the floodgates blew open. I couldn't stop the tears.

_ Blaine: _

I hurt. That was all I could think of. I walked slowly out, and headed home, not sure of my next move. Once home, I began a soul-search. I began to seriously ask myself some questions. Did I love him? With all of my heart. Did I hurt him? Undoubtedly. Did I want him? More than anything. I could not live without him in my life, and as it stood now, I had lost him.

I decided to work to get into his strong arms. I needed him, and nothing I could do would take that feeling away. I was certain that something had to give.

So, I called his phone, and texted him often, endeavoring to contact him. Day after day I called. Edie, my shop's human manager, became worried for me, and told me I seemed to be unable to concentrate.

Finally, one Thursday afternoon, I texted him, for the last time.

Mikey, I know you are pissed at me. And I know you're probably deleting my messages. But if by some chance you get this, please call me. I don't want to lose you as a friend. I am sorry I hurt you. This is the last time I will contact you, Mikey. Please call me.

I waited for an hour, one that seemed to go on for seven. Finally, my phone rang, and Mikey's name and face appeared on my screen. I immediately answered. "Hello?"

The sound on the other end ripped my heart apart. If a cat can be said to howl, Mikey did. And it was the most painful, agony-ridden sound a cat could produce.

Without any further pause, I said firmly, "Mikey, I am coming over. If the door is locked, it's getting broke. If you want me as bad as you sound, unlock the door. Love you. Bye."

With that, I sailed out the door, my heart in my throat, and my feet beating a tattoo across the pavement of the parking lot. I jumped into my car, and, as fast as the law would allow, I hasted toward the apartment complex.

I was heartened by the fact that the apartment door was unlocked. I slipped in, and noticed that it was, pristinely clean, evidence of Mikey's obsessive cleaning. But the cleanliness hid the fact that there was a man in pain. At least it hid it, until I reached the bedroom, where a rather terrifying sight lay before me.

There, laying angled on a rumpled bed, lay the man I knew I loved. He still held the phone in his paw, albeit lightly, and he was as limp as a wet dishrag. I knelt on the bed beside him, and whispered in his ear, "Mikey, I'm here."

I rubbed his back for a long time, then from the depths of the duvet, I heard a hoarse voice emanate, "Why, Blaine? Why did you say it?"

The question had to come up at some point. "Because I was scared. The idea of you loving me, while still loving the fennec was an idea I could not process."

"Didn't you realize I loved you FIRST?" The voice raised in intense frustration.

"I should have, Mikey. And for that, I am sorry."

His head lifted, and red-rimmed eyes stared back at me. "Don't lie. Do you love me?"

Quietly, but with every ounce of feeling I could muster, I replied, "Yes, Michael, more than you will ever know. I was envious of that fennec, because I was sure he stole you. And yet, I could not bring myself to tell you. Now, when it feels I might lose you forever, I am forced to tell everything that I feel. Mikey, I do love you, and I can only hope I haven't lost my chance with you."

Michael rose to a sitting position, and whispered, "Say it again."

_ Michael: _

He said it again and again. And with each repeat, his voice played havoc on the walls on my heart, like so many wrecking balls against an old brick edifice, eventually crumbling what was left. Then he said something that changed my life, "I love you, Mikey, and, if you let me, I'll prove it. Forever."

With that, he kissed me, at first carefully and tenderly, then gradually more and more intensely. I'd been aroused from the point he started repeating his declaration of love. Now, with the kiss, I was harder than I'd ever been, even when I'd pleasured myself.

Then, while he kissed me, he pushed me back to lie upon the bed, and he proceeded to slowly disrobe both of us, first me, then him. He then lay on top of me, and proceeded to trail kisses, licks and nibbles across every available inch of fur-covered skin, sending frissons of sensation in every direction, destroying my will.

Try as I might, it was impossible for me to think of anything except for the word "Fuck", and the name, "Blaine." I was gone. Then it happened. He took my hard member into his maw, and began to slowly lave it with tongue and throat. Great gouts of breath escaped my maw, as his talented tongue wound a hot, moist path the length of my member.

But he did not intend, apparently, for that to be where I came.

_ Blaine: _

He tasted, as I'd often imagined, both sweet and savory, and I was instantly addicted. His precum had the consistency of light cream, with a slight citrus twist to it. I was harder than I thought was possible. I had seen many a porn video on sucking a man off, and had read many a sex-ed book and article, and was using every single technique, although only for the first time in my life. The more I did it, the more I wanted to do it, and the more it began to feel like my "place", so to speak, to please my man.

His long shaft was now well lubed by precum and saliva, and I thought there was not a better time than now to end my virginity with the only person that would ever penetrate me. So, I climbed up, trailing kisses as I did so, and placed myself straddling his hips. I leaned down, and thoroughly kissed him again, then lifted up, and proceeded to slowly lower myself onto his hard tool, using the saliva and precum as lubricant.

His ample cockhead pressed against my tailhole lips, and seemed to be missing it for a moment. Then, without warning, the head went in with an almost audible pop, and a gasping moan from both of us. I did not stop lowering myself, and promptly sheathed his entire member with my hot anus.

The feeling of being penetrated by the one you love is, to me, an indescribable sensation. My tail was moving of its own accord, as canids do, and that movement created another sensation, a vibration of sorts that sent me into another state of mind. I was now addicted to my man's member, and that was all that I could think of.

He now "owned" me, and I knew it. I was his, and nothing could change this. Without being bidden, and without a single intention of my own, out of my mouth came, "Oh... F-fuck... me... M-Master!"

_ Michael: _

The second Blaine said the word "master", I lost control, and wrapped my arms around him, flipped over, and began to piston deeply into my darling's tailhole. Growls, hisses, and feline yodelings were, seemingly, the only language I could speak, and for the first time, this felt right.

Blaine's tailhole kept getting progressively tighter, and that fact was not lost on my pistoning phallus. I was now feral, and instinct saw an unclaimed fur, one that was being mated. Instinct drove me to bite him, and bite him I did, directly on the left shoulder, over the heart. I bit hard enough for blood to flow, and the taste of his blood galvanized me.

With a loud growl, I now could not control the movements of my hips, and thrust wildly, the breaths and moans and cries of my mate providing a heady soundtrack to our mating. Great gouts of sweat poured from both of us, as we moved together, sealing our love-bond.

I pulled together a little bit of mental ability, enough to growl one word, "Mine!" I was claiming him as mine, and there was nothing that could change this.

Blaine gasped, and moaned out, "Yours, Master, forever."

With those words, I exploded.

_ Blaine: _

I knew, when I said it, that it was true. This great hybrid was my Love-Master, and I had bound myself to him. This knowledge sent me over the edge, and I came hard. Huge ropes of semen covered my chest and face, and still, I came. The orgasm seemed to be centered in my mind, not my body, for after a moment, I stopped ejaculating. I shook, howled, and lost all control. I blacked out completely, the pleasure overwhelming me.

Moments later, I awoke to feel my Master still inside me. He was lucid, and he was not completely flaccid. I smiled, and whispered, "Thank you, Master, for giving me a chance to prove my love."

He smiled, "I think you are going to have to prove it over and over again." He chuckled, and growled lightly, "You know, even though we are going to be mates in public, I'm going to make sure I stay your master in our home."

"Good. Speaking of our home, what about living quarters?"

"Well, I can move easily, and live in your upstairs apartment. So long as I never sleep without you. I love you, my pet."

"And I you, my master"

_ Author's note: _ Many thanks to those who supported me, and to those who didn't. To those who didn't support me, you've taught me that despite your surly, self-agrandizing words, I am capable of doing something I can be proud of. To those who did support me, my love and thanks to you.

Be Well, and Be Blessed.

Aragon