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This is the story I'm not sure I should write, or even if I can write it. Some memories are so intense, so personal, that to set them down on paper (or electronic document or whatever) may somehow crystallize the memory into something that can only imperfectly report the myriad sensations and components of a particular experience. Even if I write this, I'm not sure I should let anyone else read it. Yet I feel compelled to describe, as best I can, the first time that Aleksandr and I made love.

Early Friday evening - the week after his wonderful dance for me, and our first kiss. The great cerulean-furred lion who presented himself at the door, standing his full 81" in height, wore his athletic gear and carried with him his guitar case and a canvas duffle that appeared to be about half empty. Perhaps there's not much that one needs to bring along for a weekend, especially since he hadn't left town. I did flick a glance at the duffle with a passing idea that there might be other things than clothing in there, and I suspect that my blush told more than I'd intended. Aleksandr seemed to catch my brainwave, and he grinned at me. "No," he said softly, "although who knows what may happen in the future?"

I laughed and hugged him close to me. He kissed the top of my head, an action he'd taken before, but this evening, it seemed more intimate than ever. I pulled away from him, somewhat reluctantly, saying, "I'm sure that Sylvie and Maggers have seen you with your duffle and have drawn their own conclusions."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"They're lovely neighbors," I said. "I doubt that they'll even try telephoning until sometime late tomorrow, if then. Neither will pry for details, but I suspect that they'll be hoping for confirmations and such."

"I'd hate to disappoint them." Stepping inside, Aleksandr closed the door behind him, set down the guitar case and tossed the duffle to the floor, then pulled me close to him again, kissing me with such passion that, to this day, I'm still convinced that he actually pulled me off the floor. I grabbed him tightly, whimpering, almost crying there in his embrace. It felt like a dozen minutes, although I suspect it was probably closer to just one. He pulled gently out of the kiss still holding me, looking into my eyes. "Tristan, dorogoy..." He laughed slightly. "I'm fighting a losing battle, wanting to take time, versus wanting to ravage you right here on the living room floor."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one!" I laughed. I caressed his cheek tenderly, and when he turned to plant a kiss on my palm, I thought my knees would give out from under me. I exhaled forcefully, trying to steady myself. "For what it's worth, I think that the bed would be more comfortable. And I've set up a little ambience that would be a pity to waste."

"How's your blood sugar? Do you need to eat?"

I smiled at him. "I'm cheating like crazy. I gave myself a small sandwich about an hour ago, and the oven is keeping warm a large variety of finger foods, ready whenever we want them. There's plenty of filtered water, milk, juice, even a few sodas if you'd like some. Hot cocoa for later, with a little Bailey's Irish Cream, if you want it. Of course, if you're hungry, we can tuck in now..."

He chuckled softly. "You've prepared well." He caressed my head gently, smiled down at me. "The only thing I'm hungry for right now is you."

I shivered. "I can return the sentiment."

For some reason, it still took several seconds for me to reach out to take his forepaw, leading him slowly to my bedroom. Had I been canine, Aleksandr would have been engulfed in a hurricane of tail-wagging. I felt exhilarated, terrified, desirous, humbled... too many emotions to describe with any accuracy. Strangely, I didn't rush, despite the feeling that I wanted to run forward, "skip to the good part" so to speak. All of it was "the good part," and I was determined to enjoy every millisecond.

The lion expressed himself with a small gasp when we entered the bedroom. I could joke and say that it might have been because it was the first time in ages since it was so clean and tidy, but I think it was more because of the candles. A dozen white pillar candles, some tall, some squat, burned softly in every safe corner and open shelf that I could find. They were unscented, partly because I wasn't sure if a particular fragrance might have an adverse association for Aleksandr, and partly because... truth be told, I didn't want anything to interfere with the scents I was to discover in the deep, personal places of my lion's body. I wanted to memorize every moment with him, every sensation, everything.

I sat on the king-sized bed (an old bear's indulgence) as he looked around the room, a smile on his muzzle, deep appreciation in his eyes. He looked at me, slowly removed his warm-up jacket, tossing it casually to the floor. He wore his athletic pants and a muscle shirt (so aptly named, in connection with this magnificent male whose powerful form dominated the space, the moment, my attention), and I my lounging pants and scrub shirt. He stood near the bed, pausing, looking at me with a question on his lip. I chuckled. "It's funny," I said, "the first time we saw each other, both of us were nearly naked. Those Speedos clung tightly, my love, and I'm never likely to forget that."

"And it's different now." He nodded. "We've cuddled together so many times, but now it's different."

I reached out a forepaw to him. "Come hold me," I asked him softly. He slid across the bed and took me into his arms almost in a single motion. We arranged ourselves to each other, our bodies touching warmly, gazing into each other's eyes. I kissed him softly, ran my fingers through his magnificent silky mane, my world becoming nothing but deep indigo and cerulean fur. Aleksandr is taller, larger than I am, his wide chest so muscled and warm, his arms enfolding me, holding me, keeping us close together. His large forepaws rubbed my back through the cotton fabric, firmly, gently, so tenderly. Our legs entwined, and his tail flipped lazily over them, its thickly-furred tip batting happily against us. For a moment, I could want no more than this, feeling so safe and protected in his embrace, feeling so completely loved, wanted, desired, craved. I wanted no other than him in this moment, and his touch told me that he felt the same. I had waited so very many years for this moment, ached for it, prayed for it, and now... I didn't forget to be infinitely grateful.

I kissed and nuzzled my way up his muzzle and to his ear. I used my tongue to tease at it, and he flicked it and, despite his resistance, giggled when I blew gently at the fine hair there. "Ticklish?" I grinned at him.

"Never," he said grinning. "Real lions aren't ticklish."

"I'll promise not to take that as a challenge," I said, sealing the deal with a gentle nibbling on his ear that produced some particularly nice squirming on his part. "Sadly," I sighed, "I'm probably ticklish all over. You'll never want for targets."

"Is it something you like?"

"I think I have a pretty low threshold. And what good would I be to you if I exhausted myself from laughing?" I grinned back at him. "If you feel a need to subdue me, I'm sure you'll find me terribly cooperative."

He kissed me tenderly. "Be careful what you wish for, my dorogoy."

Stroking his mane, I said, "My wish has already come true."

I felt his large paws reach under my scrub shirt from behind, as he tenderly rubbed my fur and back. "How about we get rid of this bit, so I can rub your back properly?"

The tiniest hesitation before I complied, making me realize something funny. "Suddenly, I'm a little shy," I said, sitting up to remove the shirt, tossing it to the side of the bed. As I lay back down, Aleksandr leaned away from me slightly, gazing at me with a smile of deep affection. I had the sudden sensation that I should cover myself, which was absurd. I felt the redness in my cheeks as I smiled back at him, feeling even sillier. "If you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to go into turbo-blush."

He reached out a forepaw to me, placing it on my chest and moving it slowly, caressing me, as if tasting my fur through the pads of his paw. His antique gold eyes glistened in the candlelight, his breath quiet, sighing through his slightly open mouth. I found myself holding my own breath, not knowing what to do or say. At long last, my lion whispered, "Tristan, do you know that you're beautiful?"

I closed my eyes, whimpered slightly. Emotions tumbled in me, terrible old moments, fear-filled memories of far too many times when I'd been told everything opposite of that statement. I opened my eyes to look at my lion again, smiling sadly, shaking my head a little. "No. No one has ever said that of me."

"They have never seen you," he said. His paw moved up to caress my cheek, then moved down again to rub my round bear's belly tenderly. I could scarcely breathe, much less reach out to him. For what seemed a long time, I just lay there and let him pet me, and then the Puck took over in me, and I raised all four paws into the air, let my tongue loll out, and whimpered like a pup. Aleksandr laughed, gave my stomach an affectionately rough rub, then said, "Okay, you... on your belly. You need a proper back rub."

"I'll never turn that down," I said, happily obeying his instructions. I felt him shift on the bed, and then he knelt over me, his knees to either side, and I felt his forepaws carefully move my long hair out of the way, then engulf my shoulders softly but firmly, and begin to massage me. I've had professional massages that didn't feel anywhere near as good, but that's not so difficult to figure out. This was Aleksandr; this was my beloved lion touching me, rubbing my muscles and getting me to relax completely. The word "melt" came to my mind somewhere as I grunted happily under his spectacular ministrations.

"Those sound like happy noises." I heard the grin in his voice.

"Try 'ecstatic' noises." I grunted as he put a little extra effort into some muscles down around the base of my spine. "I can't imagine why I haven't asked you for this before now."

I felt him lean over me, begin to nuzzle my neck, and then suddenly, yet ever so tenderly, bite me there. I inhaled sharply, feeling the fine tracery of his teeth through my fur, teasing the flesh of my neck with just the right mixture of sensuality and danger as he shook his head very slightly, the merest ghost of the lion's ability to break his prey's neck. My breathing quickened and I shivered in his grip before he finally released me. His lips to my ear, he breathed, "That might be one reason."

"Gods, you're wicked. And that's such a good thing." I tried to get my breath back, then resigned myself to enjoying what I was sure would be an ongoing session of panting. Aleksandr chuckled and lay atop me, propping himself up on his forearms, tucking his head over my shoulder as I reveled in the feeling of him pressing his body against me.

"Is this okay?"

"A lot more than okay, my love," I said. Tenderly, he nuzzled my cheek and ear, finding quickly enough that the furry tufts in my own ears are as ticklish as his own. Despite all we'd said before, neither of us were in a hurry to move any further forward in our explorations. I wiggled happily underneath my great warm slab of lion, and he giggled softly.

"Someone likes this."

"Understatement of the century."

He kissed my cheek, licking me as I giggled some more. "I'll have to remember this," he rumbled quietly. "But for right now..." I felt him moving to my side once more, and I made a little oh pooh sort of noise as I rolled onto my side to face him again. My beautiful lion gazed into my eyes and rubbed my chest again. "I have the feeling that we're still a little over-dressed."

In some maneuver that I still can't quite figure out, he removed the muscle shirt in a single fluid motion and lay back down beside me. I gaped at the magnificence before me, reaching out a forepaw with what I could only call deepest reverence. I had seen him shirtless before, seen the markings that were like tattoos created there in his fur - at the beach, of course, and a few other times when I'd seen the markings peeking out from under his athletic shirt. Now, I traced the triskelion Celtic knot on his left pectoral muscle with a finger, then bent down to kiss it. He had told me of the history of that marking, and I paid my respect and my gratitude to all it represented. I kissed and nuzzled my way downward, finding the taut nipple protruding slightly through his fur, and I licked and nibbled at it as I heard him breathe out a sighing, shuddering moan. After several moments, I moved my head slowly across his capacious chest to find the other nipple and repeat my ministrations as he held my head in his forepaws and breathed more quickly, the faintest rumblings of a purr beginning deep within.

At last, I released him and moved up to kiss him even as he lowered his muzzle to me to be kissed, all flashing tongues and sweet breath. I ran my fingers through his mane, feeling him shift his body to be closer to me again, and we lost ourselves in the kiss for a very long time. When finally he pulled away from me slightly, gazing into my eyes, he looked as if he were on the verge of crying, or perhaps I was projecting my own feelings on to him. "Tristan," he said, "my dorogoy... I want you so."

I felt his paws move down my back and cup my buttocks firmly. I caught my breath as he began slowly to move my lounge pants downward. It must have made him think something was wrong. He stopped, looking at me closely.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Looking down, I felt my face burning in a furious blush. "Aleksandr, my love," I whispered. "I want you more than anything in my life. It's just that I'm not very... I mean, it's not..." I stopped. Not much I could do about my size, or lack of it. "I only hope that I don't disappoint you."

His forepaw moved gently to my chin and lifted it up slowly, until I looked into his eyes again. He held my gaze firmly, and a sweet smile grew over his muzzle. "That's not possible."

He shifted his forepaw to brush softly at my cheek, my head, my neck, my chest, my round belly... not too fast, not too soon... I felt myself tense in anticipation (tinged with worry and doubt), until at last he touched me through the fabric of my lounge pants. I gasped, or gulped - a moment I had dreamed of (literally, I promise you), for so long thinking it would never happen, then wondering if it should happen... Aleksandr's paw moved firmly, carefully, as he leaned his head close to mine.

"Nothing the least bit disappointing about that," my young lion whispered, kissing me. "I find it rather flattering. You seem to be enjoying my attention."

"You're reaching for the understatement of the millennium now."

"You showed me the value of striving ever higher." He chuckled again, kissed me as he touched and squeezed softly, then nibbled his way down my neck (applying one more bite there, which only aroused me even more). He shifted himself further down the bed, kissing me as he went, until he paused, his head above my groin. He kissed me through the fabric, moved his paws to my hips and pulled downward. I rolled my hips for him, and he drew the lounge pants off and away so that I lay naked before him, still feeling shy, feeling so needful. He moved his head downward, sniffing slowly, a rumbling beginning somewhere inside him.

"Oh gods, I hope--"

He shushed me to silence. My heart thudding in my chest, I heard him sniffing again, sighing. "Something almost like nutmeg and cinnamon, mixed with your deep musk," he said. "I've never known anything so wonderful... intoxicating. Ah, Tristan..."

I inhaled sharply as I felt his tongue lapping up the underside of my desperately stiff erection before engulfing me in a single motion. His actions were so soft, gentle, impossibly intense. I was no stranger to this, yet it was as if I'd never experienced anything remotely like it. My breath was quick, whimpering, occasionally calling his name as if making a litany to the gods. It went on for longer than I thought possible until, showing perfect timing and impeccable restraint, he stopped and kissed his way back up my body until he was once again lying beside me. Though my eyes were closed, I could sense him looking at me, smiling, even as I tried to get my breath back.

"You were saying?" he teased. He leaned over to kiss me, and I realized that I could taste myself on his lips. My fevered brain jumped up a few more degrees. When he pulled away from me, Aleksandr continued to look at me with eyes that spoke volumes, in many languages. He summed them all by whispering, "Tristan... I love you."

I threw an arm around him and pulled him close to me, kissing his face and muzzle wildly, laughing, crying, a bit of both. He held on to me, rocked me gently in his powerful embrace, and I buried my muzzle in the ruff of his silken indigo mane. After a long moment, a combination of recovered energy, desperate desire, and more than a soupçon of raw lust gave me the strength to push against my lion until he took the hint and lay flat on his back. "My turn," I said, grinning.

He grinned in return. "I won't argue." He put raised his arms and put his forepaws under his head. I surprised him when my first move was not downward but sideways. I sniffed and snuffled my way across the hard muscles of his shoulders and down into his armpit. I confess it amused me a little to see that, now, he was the one who was uncertain and shy. I could feel him about to speak, and I tenderly put a finger to his lips, and inhaled deeply once more.

"I know the scent of your soap," I told him gently. "We've cuddled up enough for me to know it well. This..." I sniffed again, "...this is what I've never been able to know directly. I'm finally close enough to get just a bit of your scent. I suppose you could call it a kink, but I want my male to smell male. This is you... part of you." I looked up at him, and he gazed at me with a small smile on his lips. "And I'm going to know still more. Now."

With no intervening move, I placed my paw directly on the large bulge in his sweat pants. He inhaled suddenly, and my own heart thudded a few extra beats. I won't go on about relative sizes; let's just say that it was certainly no less than I'd expected, and perhaps even a bit more than I anticipated. I grinned up at him. "I'm not nearly as flexible as you are, so I'm going to make a suggestion."

I rolled away from him and off the bed, walking (on rather rubbery legs) to the end of the bed. My lion still lay stretched out before me, his huge forepaws still behind his head, a slightly smug expression on his face that was softened by the deep affection in his eyes. I bent down and face-planted myself onto that self-same bulge from before, and I was gratified by the expression of surprise and grunt of lust that burst from him. It was his turn to begin some rapid breathing, and he wasn't disappointing me in the slightest.

Through the fabric, I inhaled deeply, my muzzle moving slowly and firmly against the treasure that lay beneath. I could catch the hints of his scent, beyond the tinge of bright ocean-surf soap that tried to hide him from me. I had no worries, as I suspected that the activities of the evening would help bring back more of his natural musk; already, I noted something similar to curry, cumin, and coriander. I moved my forepaws to his hips and began to pull downward. I moved back with the motion so that I was standing again when the pants came off. I tried not to stare, but it was difficult not to gawk at such an incredible sight.

I moved my paws instead to his left hindpaw and began to rub it slowly and expertly. "The last time I did this, you fell asleep."

"Is that your plan now, you wicked bear?"

"By the way you're struggling so violently, I can tell that you're truly terrified of that happening."

"Eek, eek, help," he whispered, grinning at me, then he sighed deeply. "It's wonderful, dorogoy. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Besides, last time, I didn't dare do this." I knelt on the floor and, still rubbing his paw slowly, I began licking his pads with great tenderness. The lion jerked backward at first, as if I'd tickled him, but he relaxed again, and his breathing once again quickened. As tough as I knew his pads would be, I knew also that they could be sensitive, and that the right treatment would likely send him into orbit. I took my time, massaging and licking his pads, being mean enough to suck on his large toes as a sign of future attentions, and he wasn't ignorant of the implications in any way.

After a few minutes, I took pity on him... or, more likely, I was succumbing to my own lustful needs. I rose from the floor, kissing my way up his leg, nuzzling his meaty thigh, until I was once again at his center. He moved his muscular legs wider for me, and I moved in as close as I could. His scent was indeed stronger now, and I pressed my nose against the large orbs that I hoped I would drain for him. My tongue reached out, tasting the dampness it found there, finding it perfect and irresistible. As above, so below; it was no surprise to find the patch of indigo fur that served as a low canopy for the object of my desire, which was itself dark like the lion's tongue, and at this moment its tip glistening with the slick fluid he was already producing.

"Turnabout," I grinned at him, and took a long, lascivious lick at the underside of his length, feeling each detail of his magnificent lionhood as I went. Aleksandr's breath caught in his throat, and I felt him tremble as I reached the tip and, without a pause, engulfed as much of him as I could in a single motion. The sound he made was not a growl or cry but a roar, cut short by the sound of his rapid breathing and the building sound of his rumbling purr. In my own pleasure, I thought that I had surely done something right.

I raised and lowered my head slowly, regularly, memorizing the feel of him, the flavor of him, the primal stirring within myself that I felt in pleasing him. I took as much as I could, and finally, in a long, slow effort, I held my breath, opened my throat, and let my lips bump against the very base of him. He cried out my name; I felt more than saw his forepaws grip the bed sheets as I came back up and caught my breath again. His breathing was quick, heavy, and I repeated my actions, holding myself down upon him for as long as I could, finally raising my head again as I felt his large forepaws on my head, gently stopping me from continuing. Panting open-mouthed, he looked down at me, his beautiful antique gold eyes gazing at me. He pulled and gestured for me to move myself up next to him. I shifted myself to lie next to him, and his arms wrapped around me and squeezed me to his capacious, heaving chest.

"Dorogoy," he gasped. "Tristan... no one... no one has ever..." He stopped, almost crushed me in his powerful embrace. "Are you all right?"

I chuckled softly. "Yes, my love. I admit, I could use a lot more practice before I can do it easily."

"How... why did you..."

Tenderly, I stroked his furry cheek as his breath slowed. "I will do everything that I can for you, my lion. Everything." I smiled a little. "I had some idea what I was getting into."

Aleksandr laughed for a full minute as I held him close and loved the feeling of him shaking with mirth. I decided in that moment that I could spend my life enjoying this magnificent lion's laugh. I suspected that he and I both might need a little time to bring back our erections; I also figured that wouldn't be very difficult.

When he finally recovered himself, Aleksandr leaned over and kissed me through his smile, petting me and caressing my cheek. He paused, seemed to consider something. Looking into my eyes, he asked, "Is this what making love is like?"

"I certainly hope so," I chuckled, a little surprised. I gazed at him, sensing what he meant. "I can safely say that this is the most I've ever laughed in bed with someone."

"That's what the Eskimo call it ... laughing with someone. At least that's what they said in the movies." He smiled at me, running his finger tenderly across my muzzle. "I've never laughed like that in bed. It surprised me."

"Did you like it?"

"I liked it."

"So did I." I kissed his muzzle and nuzzled up against him. "It's new for me too. In some ways, that's very sad. But I'm not sad now." I paused, chuckling again. "No one's ever...?"

He shook his head, smiling at me, a blush pushing through his cerulean fur. "Not that I've had that many opportunities. It's as if no one wanted to take the time, maybe. I don't know." He coughed gently. "It was very... well, let's say that you got me pretty close with just those few, erm, movements."

"And what if I were to have kept on?"

The blush grew deeper. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes, my dorogoy. I want to taste you. Every drop."

My lion shifted a little. "You might have to start over a bit."

I touched him. "I think you've already started without me."

"Desires are powerful things."

"Yes," I whispered, "yes, they are." I kissed him deeply as my forepaw moved slowly, gently, firmly, to assist him in regaining his earlier magnificence. I was not in the slightest disappointed. When he was fully aroused again, I pulled back from the kiss and smiled at him. Already, his breathing was quickened in anticipation, and in his eyes was yearning and desire such as no one else, ever, had given to me.

"I don't know..." he began, then grinned. "I may not last long."

"Don't hold back on my account, love; I'm probably as eager as you." I licked his nose lasciviously, then said softly, "Let me love you."

After a moment, he nodded slightly, then closed his eyes.

I kissed my way down his body once more, past his muscular chest, his firm rippling belly, the indigo fur trailing below his navel, barely reining in my desire. At his center, I found his scent even stronger than before, as if his body were calling out to me in its need. I smiled, flicked my tongue at him to tease him, but not too much; his beautiful big balls were already blue enough.

Slowly, I engulfed him yet again, his lionhood almost painfully stiff. I moved with care, and dared once more to take him down my throat and hold him there for a few moments. When I retreated, I felt his entire body begin to tremble, heard his breathing quicken; I moved a little faster for him, and a little faster still, my own body quivering in anticipation. One of his forepaws reached out for me, and I took it in my own and squeezed back, fingers entwined. Aleksandr began to whimper, shifting back and forth, almost coughing out his breath, until suddenly he cried out my name three times and then roared...

Never before had I drunk from so precious - and so generous - a fountain. Aleksandr writhed in the throes of his ecstasy, and I held him in my muzzle to capture each and every explosive burst of his seed. He gave so copiously; I felt twice that I had to swallow to keep from spilling any. His forepaw and mine clenched hard, vibrating together. He called my name again, and again, his body thrumming like the slowly fading tintinnabulation of a great bell. His flow trickled and stopped, even as he still twitched within my muzzle, held tenderly, reverently, warm and safe. After a long time, I released him slowly, let my tongue gently but thoroughly ensure that nothing had been missed, then shifted to lie beside him once more.

The great cerulean-furred lion rolled himself toward me, his arms moving to enfold me, his forehead to my chest, his breath still fast and making tiny whimpering sounds. As he clung to me, I could feel his body trembling so very slightly. I stroked his silken indigo mane softly, feeling strangely protective of the gentle giant in my arms.

Long moments later, with his breath finally slowing, he raised his head and looked into my eyes. I've never forgotten what I saw there, and I am lucky to say that I have seen it there on many other occasions. What I saw was love, adoration, appreciation, desire, and within it all, a sense of devotion, a sense of feeling some part of me that was now part of him, and he part of me. The soft smile on his muzzle reflected it all, and he moved his head to kiss me, long and slow and sweet. When finally he pulled himself away, he looked into my eyes again and whispered, "I think I know now, what making love means."

Something in my chest shattered into shards of sheer joy, and waterworks that I am, tears began to form in my eyes. "Aleksandr," I whispered to him, "my dorogoy..."

He smiled rakishly. "And now that I know, I want to make some more."

Pushing me gently onto my back, the great lion sat up quickly and inverted his position. Without the slightest warning, he buried his head between my legs and took everything he found there into his warm muzzle. I cried out at the sudden change, feeling my once-flaccid member begin quickly to rise against the confines of his mouth and the twin companions who had also found themselves taken prisoner. Aleksandr purred contentedly, the vibration felt throughout my body. Slowly, my otherwise quite swollen orbs spilled from his lips, and my firm erection became the center of his attention... and, as you might guess, my own as well.

I had enough presence of mind left to reach out my forepaw to find his, and then most of my ability to reason vanished. The great lion - my lion - moved slowly, firmly, his long, thick tongue massaging me so tenderly. I was lost in the sensations, in the sight of his lavish indigo mane spilling over my belly, in the feel of his forepaw in mine. I breathed rapidly, shallowly, reaching even as he reached to me, seeking, calling, finding, his name on my lips like the most sacred prayer of all, until the world exploded, and I screamed out, shuddering, shaking, my forepaw gripping his for the sake of my life for if I were to let it go in this moment of ecstasy I might never come back, never come back, never...

Although it was a near thing, I didn't faint. It seemed ages before Aleksandr's lips released me, then he slowly kissed his way up my belly and chest, unfolding himself to take me into his arms again. Tenderly, he kissed my muzzle, kissed away a few tears that had formed on my cheek, reached up to pet my head so softly, waiting patiently for me to get my breath back. I realized that I could smell the musk on both of our muzzles, mixing, merging even as we had done ourselves. I wasn't only me anymore. That was the thought, the essential feeling that rose in me, that filled my heart, curved my lips into a smile that I'd never made before. I opened my eyes slowly and saw the smile reflected, redoubled, and the antique gold eyes that I was sure were looking at themselves through my own eyes.

I reached up to caress his cheek, and he rubbed against it, that wonderful "cat-thing" that I so loved in him, and we grinned at each other.

"So," I finally managed to say. "How are your toes?"

"Curly," he chuckled. "Very curly."

I was quiet for a moment. "Aleksandr," I managed finally. "You were right. This is the first time in my long life that I've ever made love. It sounds cliché, I don't doubt. It's true though... it's never felt like this before." I paused, gazed deeply into his eyes. "I love you, Aleksandr Pyotr Marseyavich Mashchenko."

He pulled me to him and all but crushed me in response, and I hugged him back just as fiercely. Some moments later, I felt him shake once, a hitch in his chest, and I stroked his mane softly and whispered to him. When he pulled away, he was smiling, tears on his cheeks. I kissed them away tenderly.

"You're rubbing off on me," he quipped gently, then sobered slightly. "I don't remember when I've cried because I was happy."

"Here and I thought Russians were a passionate people," I smiled a little. "You'll have to get used to it around me. I can drop a few tears at almost anything from good food to amazing music. Or if I happen to be thinking about a certain lion, or the dance that he gave to me, or the way that he cuddles up to me to watch a movie..."

"Cry a lot lately?"

"More than you know. But always in a good way."

We lay together quietly for a long time. My ear to his chest, I could hear his heart beat, thudding in his chest as it recovered from its recent exercise. I heard his breathing, and the tender purr that came from deep within. I found myself reliving the moments of the evening so far, and wondering about what we might do later tonight, and tomorrow, and all the tomorrows after that.

Was this what Sylvie was talking about, that one day, so long ago (it seemed), when he talked to me about how he and Maggers came to know that they were right for each other? I had been so sad that day, after finding another would-be relationship dissolving into nothing but a few shallow and quickly terminated rolls in the hay; I despaired that I'd ever find a love like his. Oh, I was quite envious, and both Sylvie and Maggers were so generous with their love. We didn't have sex, because that wasn't the point, and deep down, I knew that. They cuddled me on their couch, and each gave me a warm and sincere kiss that lingered long past that evening's talk. It was then that I began to separate true intimacy from mere sex. They both knew that I would find it one day.

And here, finally... and once more, I went through a mental litany of gratitude.

Aleksandr stirred in our embrace. "So," he smiled at me. "After all that exercise, you probably need to eat."

"Probably," I admitted. "Although it's so very nice here that I don't really want to go running off anytime soon."

He squeezed me briefly. "That's nice to hear."

"You'll notice that I didn't make any jokes about having just eaten."

"I confess that you showed remarkable restraint there."

"A certain decorum seemed necessary."

"Well done."

"Probably won't last."

My lion chuckled. "It's my own fault. I knew this about you long before we got this far. And just to show you that I can keep my end up..." He put a finger to my lips before I could respond. "Not a word, you."

"Mmfffn," I acknowledged carefully.

"You stay here. I'm going to be right back."

"Wherffn...?" I tried, against the well-placed finger.

"Not far, as you'll probably figure out since I'm not getting dressed. Just stay put."

He grinned and moved away from me. I propped myself on one elbow as I studied his slowly retreating form with all the interest of a starving man gazing at the perfect buffet table. He moved digitigrade, his calves accentuated, his meaty thighs, those magnificently carved glutes, the cascading mane, the amazing shape of him... Aleksandr's tail moved languidly, its thickly-furred tip sketching little patterns in the air. He disappeared around the corner, and I heard him moving into the front room. I remembered that I'd already drawn the drapes, so my neighbors (Maggers and Sylvie included) were spark out of luck. I heard clicking sounds that, for just a moment, I couldn't place. As my lion returned to the room carrying his guitar, I made the connection and smiled, sitting up in the bed to give him plenty of room.

Aleksandr sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed (which, given his size, meant that he took up about half of it), and tenderly strummed his guitar. The candles lit the room softly, gleaming in his indigo mane, giving tiny sparks to his antique gold eyes. He made chords and short runs absently, letting the notes float in the warmth around us. "I heard this song a long time ago," he said. "I've heard several recordings, but my favorite is by Roberta Flack. I was planning to play for you, but I didn't know what I was going to play." He made another chord, and another, in a progression I thought I recognized. "What you said earlier, though... what we said... I know what song I want to play."

I leaned against the headboard, my heart filling to overflowing as he began to sing, slowly, passionately, in that sweet baritone voice...

The first time ever I saw your face, I thought the sun rose in your eyes, And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave To the dark and the endless skies...

And the first time ever I kissed your mouth, I felt the earth move in my hand Like the trembling heart of a captive bird That was there at my command...

And the first time ever I lay with you, I felt your heart so close to mine, And I knew our joy would fill the earth And would last till the end of time...

He took the song to its end, and we both sat quietly for a long moment. "Ewan MacColl wrote it," he said softly, "over half a century ago. But I think it was waiting for me to give to you."

I sniffed back yet another tear or two and said, "I have a very definite problem."

"Which is?" he smiled.

"If I act on one impulse, which is to grab you and hug the stuffing out of you, I might break your guitar. On the other paw, I want you to keep singing, or sing with you."

Gently, he set the guitar to one side and moved to take me in his arms again. "We've got all night. All weekend." He kissed me softly. "All of forever, if we work it right."

"I'll take door number three, Monty."

"Then forever it shall be."

And we kissed again...

And here the story pauses. So much more happened that night, and the weekend, and ever since. Those are other stories, perhaps for another time. What you need to understand is that there is a little bit of this story that happens every time Aleksandr and I make love. It doesn't matter if it's fast or slow, long or short, playful or intense. Every single time that we make love, these emotions are there. All that we do together, whether sexual or not, is another form of making, creating, love. The more that we do together, the more we add to and build this intensely intimate story. This story - these moments - is where I learned what love really is. And I never will settle for anything less. I won't go back.

Don't you, either.