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Part Two

Geren woke to the touch of a paw stroking through his chestfur. Momentarily dissociated, he sat up with a start, surprised to feel a soft body against his--one that smelled nothing like Alain.

He found himself enveloped in a warm embrace, which he returned instinctively--if a little mechanically--before glancing down to see a swath of orange-red fur glistening in the weak light of day which shone through the broken window of the little room. His eyes widened as his memories returned, and he experienced the shortest denial/anger/depression/acceptance cycle of his life, inside the span of a breath; at its conclusion, he clutched Lysi tightly to him, burying his muzzle against the fox.

"Good morning," he murmured warmly, his sleepy languor slow to fade, tinged with only the mildest of headaches.

"Mm, ssh," the fox whispered back. A paw found the back of Geren's head and slowly guided his muzzle down the fox's neck--which he nuzzled--to his chest--which he nibblegroomed--to his belly--which he sniffed--to his firm sex, which was leaking streamers of pre against everything it touched. The scent was strong, but the fox's other paw found the underside of Geren's jaw and its gentle suggestion was instantly heeded; without hesitation, the fox glided forward into warm coyote mouth.

Geren undulated his tongue very lightly along the underside of the fox's sensitive flesh, compressing it softly against the roof of his muzzle; he was rewarded almost instantly with a surprised-sounding whimper-moan from the fox, who ground forward against his nose. Despite the impossible-to-ignore twinges from his swollen bladder, he set to his task with enthusiasm, working to elicit every squeak and drawn-out whine he could from his lovely partner.

The scent and taste...Geren's mind started to compare it to his past experiences but dismissed it on the spot.

There was no comparison.

He paced himself, teasing slowly, bringing the fox to the edge and then backing off. Time itself was limitless; there was only the lovely Lysi and the end of the world. After a while, however, he pulled away with a little lick, leaving the responsive fox right on the edge.

"Sorry, but if I don't hit the head, I'm gonna soak your bed," Geren giggled.

"Go ahead," the fox said huskily.

Geren blinked, then grinned sheepishly. For a moment, he'd thought the fox had wanted him to wet the bed.

He shifted to stand up, but the Lysi's paw tightened in his shaggy black hair and pulled him back down to his crotch, rising a little and tugging Geren's nose against the heavily-scented white fur between his legs. For a moment, held there, Geren was overwhelmed by scent and sensation; after another moment, he tried to straighten again, and felt the fox's paw reluctantly release his hair, stroking down across his muzzle.

"Oh fine," Lysi said, sounding amused. "Over in the corner. There's a curtain if you want."

Geren shuffled toward the indicated corner of the room, though his nose could easily have found it for him. The 'restroom' was a simple U-shaped depression in the worn synthetic flooring; as he addressed it, a physiological sense of impending relief washed across him.

He jolted as something stroked past his hip, but there was no holding back. Gritting his teeth, he glanced down to find a black foxpaw sneaking around to take possession of his semi-hard length as he began to empty his bladder. Lysi aimed for him, cinching up close behind and folding his chin over his shoulder, watching. Little foxdigits pressed softly, gently stopping his stream. Geren's toes curled and he groaned, a strange sensation resonating through him as his urgency suddenly redoubled. A moment later, Lysi pulled his foreskin back gently and released the pressure.

Geren knew he should feel embarrassed. The fox was grinding against his rump, teasing his pawpad down to dip a digit into his stream and watching everything with his honey-colored eyes.

Yes, he knew he should feel embarrassed, but embarrassment refused to form. He closed his eyes and sighed a big, long sigh, swinging his hips forward as he felt the fox's other paw stroke gently between his cheeks, pad brushing across his still-slick tailhole. Once again, he sucked his lower lip between his canine teeth, squeezing his eyes shut in glut of stimulation.

After a few minutes, he tapered off; no sooner had he been reduced to dribbles, however, than the fox spun him around and slid downward to lap eagerly at the loose folds of his foreskin. He felt a hot flush spreading beneath his face fur, but his body responded of its own accord and his mind swiftly followed. Lysi's wide-pupiled eyes slipped shut as he wrapped his thin muzzle around Geren's girth, and suddenly the coyote was all but unable to breathe.

Geren had always hated receiving oral, but adored giving it; he fancied himself rather good at it, and he had thought to show the fox just how good. And yet, talented as Geren was, Lysi was in a class of his own. The coyote felt himself go weak in the knees, head swimming in a massive overdose of something resembling pleasure--only the fox's paws on his hips held him from falling.

He saw stars, galaxies. His breathing became erratic and he began to quiver from nose to tail, throbbing and grinding wildly into the fox's amazing mouth. Sweat began to bead across the top of his open muzzle and run down through his fur; his body trembled and shook. Slowly he was eased back against the wall, and he leaned back for support. Time once more ceased to exist, as did any form of rational thought.

Many minutes later, Geren felt a cool wash replace the hot warmth that had surrounded him. He opened his eyes to find Lysi kneeling before him, gazing adoringly at his swollen, leaking shaft and licking his lips. Slowly the fox rose, touching quivering lips to his. With the tiniest of groans, he collapsed into the fox's kiss, trembling paws clutching at vulpine rump, even his hair wet with sweat.

Unceremoniously, the fox led him to the bed, a meter and a half away, guiding him down onto the edge of its lumpy mattress and rolling him onto his belly. There was no restrained passion in Lysi's approach this time; he pushed Geren's tail out of the way almost urgently. Without preamble, the coyote felt the slick tip of the fox's length press firmly beneath and spread his sore ring, still leaking from the night before. Fox claws dug into his hips, and he was unable to restrain a little yelp as the trembling Lysi twitched forward, impaling him completely with one firm stroke.

The fox showed no inclination to waste time, humping hard and fast; Geren took a fold of mattress between his teeth and closed his eyes, claws digging into the fabric as the other had his way with him. A dozen breaths later, the fox began to whimper and shake, and for the second time Geren was pumped full of fox seed, blushing again at the squishy sounds of Lysi's final thrusts. And yet the fox wasn't done with him; he pulled free and lifted at Geren's hips with his paws.

Geren rolled over obligingly onto his back, tilting his head out of the way; Lysi swung up onto the bed and swung his leg across Geren's face, straddling his muzzle and laying forward to take his cock into his mouth once more. Knowing where the pink flesh had just been, Geren resisted the urge to do the same to Lysi's, though it hung only inches from his muzzle, dripping sticky foxcum into his fur.

There were no thoughts of holding off. In less than a minute he was writhing and crying, filling the fox's muzzle full of yotespunk as his legs kicked and churned against the bed. Muscles taut beneath his fur, he rolled from side to side in the relentless grip of foxmuzzle as Lysi extracted every drop and dribble.

He lay there panting beneath the fox, who slowly seemed to wind down, settling against him. Despite himself, he stole a teasing little lick and suckle to Lysi's spent sex; to his surprise, the fox murmmed, pressing forward eagerly and stiffening very slightly. Geren twisted his muzzle away in embarrassment, licking his lips and squirming.

After a long moment, Lysi pushed up, turned himself around, and sat in Geren's lap, leaning forward with a strange little smile. Geren giggled as he noticed that the fox's muzzle was spattered with sticky coyote seed. He lifted a trembling paw to steal a little, bringing it back to lick clean. Before he could even think, Lysi had responded by curling forward and planting a firm kiss on his muzzle, leaking some of the salty cum he'd held in his own. Once more, he found the fox sealing lips with him, sharing seed.

Geren licked his lips, stomach gurgling. They had snuggled and nuzzled and napped and petted for hours until at last, almost regretfully, the fox had risen. It had grown so late in the thirty-five hour day that the daylight was waning once more; the fox had turned on the light in the little apartment for the first time as he'd gone to work at the metal table along one wall, giving Geren his first look at the room.

That anyone lived like this was somewhat of a shock to him--when he'd come to Fonaci from as a new hire, his little cabin had been larger. The little cabin on the passenger liner to Hope had been easily twice the size. There was no heat, and one window, high in the wall, was always cracked open to let in fresh air. The air smelled of spice from neighboring kitchens mixed with the basic visceral smells of sweat, fox, coyote and myriad others. A square support pole sat right in the middle of the room, taking up even more floor space. The walls were moldy and stained with who-knew-what, and the floor was grimy and bare.

Geren didn't care at all. However, he was increasingly hungry. He pushed himself up to his elbows to see if Lysi was assembling some sort of dinner, but he was disappointed. The fox was returning with a simple bowl of white powder; Geren tried to sniff it, but the fox gently pushed his nose away, tossing him a little cloth.

"Not food," he murmured, voice warm. "Lay back, and breathe only through this cloth."

Startled but trusting, Geren shifted back onto his back and wrapped the cloth around his muzzle; Lysi draped another over his own mouth and nose, then began to drizzle the powder into Geren's bellyfur.

"You were from the factory, you said?" Lysi began working the powder into his roots, moving slowly up his chest. His touch was sensual--it wasn't possible for it not to be--but businesslike. "Ever been outside before? Lift your arms."

"No," Geren said, tilting his head. He raised his arms to touch the bars of the bed's endboard; the cloth started to slide away from his muzzle, but Lysi caught it quickly and pushed it back into place.

"Don't breathe this," the fox murmured, tilting his head. "We have bad things down here. Bad parasites. I don't want my beautiful yote infected."

Geren trembled softly at the gentle concern in Lysi's voice. As the fox worked the powder under his arms, his muzzle brushed lightly against Geren's, and he felt himself lifting his muzzle.

"You're pretty," he whispered.

"You're pretty," the fox countered, stroking through his fur. He giggled, teasing Geren with his claws.

"I don't want to leave," Geren whispered even more quietly, trembling. His mouth almost hurt with shyness, so terrified was he of scaring or alienating the fox. "I mean... I'm sorry, I'm being silly."

"This is as high as safe." the fox murmured, paws rubbing his neck lightly. "Roll over."

Heart racing anxiously, Geren turned over onto his belly, keeping his arms up. The fox's warmth settled against his rump, and he felt more of the powder being rubbed into his back.

Geren wanted to bite through his lip. It had taken months to work up the courage to ask Alain to live with him in his little dormitory, and the crushing rejection still echoed within him. Part of him still suspected that that very request was what had caused Alain to pull away; he couldn't believe that he'd been so forward with this fox.

The fox's paws worked the powder into his sides and hips. He felt the fox's whiskers brush his ear.

"But why would you leave?" There was a mischievous smile in the Lysi's voice, and he nipped Geren's ear sharply. "We're just getting to know each other."

Geren exhaled, closing his eyes in relief--the fox hadn't realized he'd meant forever.

Later that night, hungrier than ever--as a meal, a little taste of his own spunk was sorely inadequate--and worried about overstaying his welcome, though his host had shown no sign of it, Geren had asked Lysi if he should leave and go back to his hotel.

Lysi had seemed surprised by the question, and was quiet for a bit. He'd shaken his head and pushed Geren back on the bed, stretching out with him.

As soon as the sun had set, however, and the light had left the sky, the fox retrieved his wadded up undergarments and rumpled cloak from the floor and tossed them to Geren; amused, Geren donned the fox's garb, watching as Lysi slid into his own underwear and the throw-away coveralls he'd been given at the factory.

Once dressed, Lysi grabbed a light parcel by the door, threw it over his shoulder, and took Geren's paw, leading him to the door and out of the tenement building, across an old burned-out garden and into a little overgrown plaza. The wind was wild, warm and wet, tearing through the streets and shaking metal buildings. Soft flashes lit the distant sky from time to time, and rumbles shook the ground. A fine mist of precipitation moistened the land, and Geren's fur, and he licked his lips thirstily; the rain water was acidic, though, with a strong sulfur taste, and he quickly regretted it.

Geren had no idea where the fox was going, but the magic of mutual attraction was stronger than ever. Each stayed less than a touch away from the other at all times.

Most of the time, they held paws.

After much hurrying through narrow alleys and by-ways in a tacit bid to beat the oncoming storm--and after a brief sprint away from a mange-ridden raccoon with a makeshift knife--Lysi led him past a broken-down fence line into the ruins of a huge office building just before the first rain band washed across. Less than five meters past the entrance, they were stopped by three cloaked figures. Lysi held his paws up and, confused, Geren followed suit.

"You know this guy's chipped, right?" A thin, splotchy canid with odd, round ears darted around Geren, holding a rather non-makeshift knife and an odd device. She seemed high-strung, and Geren shivered, trying to radiate calm.

"Yes, I do. Geren, these are my best friends," Lysi put his paws down and tugged Geren to him, almost protectively. "Maven, please. Put the knife away. Geren is from the factory. They released more of them with no way out."

It was the longest sentence Geren had heard him say.

Maven sniffed at Geren, then snorted. "I see. I see the two of you made good friends already."

"Don't make me regret coming. I was excited to show him off," Lysi said calmly, "but I won't have him frightened and insulted."

Geren swayed, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"Just kiddin' around, Lyss." Maven glanced sidelong at Geren, licking her lips. "So does he speak for himself?"

"I do, at times," Geren said, then cleared his throat. He wanted to ask where they were and what they were doing, but that seemed impolite, and he bit off the question uncertainly.

The other two lowered their cloaks; one was a zebra with heavy facial scarring, the other a silver fox with most of an ear missing. They, too, had weapons--the zebra held a large knife sheathed across his chest and the fox leaned casually on a shillelagh.

"He risk," the zebra said, his deep voice resonant, accent strange to Geren's ear. "Risk you as longs as he have a chip."

"Yes, but it's his," Lysi shook his head, looking a little worried for the first time. "What's a little risk? Hm?"

"Risk as longs as have a chip," the zebra shook his head. "Not is problems."

"Let's go in," the other fox said, peering around Geren and back through the gaping doorframe. "Don't trust this night."

"No, there's an odd feeling about," Lysi agreed, placing his paw in the small of Geren's back and easing him forward. "Is there a boil going? I brought my rybiniums."

In the center of the office building--which, as they proceeded further, Geren could see was heavily fire-damaged--there was a lift. As they approached the door, the zebra reached out and forced it open. The fox tossed his shillelagh in and Lysi bit down on the top of his jute bag, holding it in his mouth. One after the other, they made their way down a makeshift rope ladder into the lift pit. The maintenance door at the base opened from the inside to Maven's swift triple knock, and they all filed in past a sturdy weasel with an old projectile rifle.

The air was smokey and dry in the enlarged room, and there was an strong odor of cooking meat and hot metal. A wide sheet of thin steel rested across a pair of welded steel tubes, forming a rudimentary table at which twenty chairs were arranged, not a single one like any other. Other little mattresses and old couches sat in corners and sides, and here and there small groups knelt, sat or lay around them. Another steel slab in alcove at the very back of the room was being used as a cook surface; an organic material fire burned under it, and ducting was in place to carry the smoke to a higher floor.

"My friends," Lysi said softly, beaming at them. He stepped inside and lead them to an old semicircular couch with a table in the middle, dropping his jute and sliding in to sit.

"Do we have anything else?"

"Spices," the zebra said. He lifted his cloak to reveal a well-muscled--but extremely thin--torso. A folded cloth hung from his belt, and he pulled it free, placing it in the center of the circle with Lysi's package. "Two pouch of zorcacums, bak bak. One capsicums."

Lysi beamed at him, paw clutching Geren's thigh happily. "Wonderful. Coriagh?"

The silver fox shook his head. "Not tonight. You'll have to carry us this time with your rybiniums, Lyss."

"I have a big pack of mushrooms," Maven sounded smug. "And," she looked around, then leaned forward; reaching into her haversack, she pulled out her own cloth-covered bundle. When she unwrapped it, Geren was surprised to see two rather small, dry-looking onions presented like a treasure. "These."

Coriagh clapped softly. "Oh! Lovely."

Lysi placed each offering in its own cloth and then opened his own parcel, revealing at least a dozen very dry-looking tubers. He wrapped them all up in a bundle and wandered over to the cooking area, Coriagh in tow.

Geren shook his head, disturbed in part by the fact that it appeared that these friends were bartering for food. He had nothing to offer; would he go hungry? He jumped at a touch on his shoulder; when he looked up, he found the zebra's big red eyes fixed on him.

"Lysi like you, trekpak. I likes Lysi but not yet you."

"I ..." Geren was uncertain what the zebra was trying to say. "Ah--"

Maven leaned close, staring at Geren. "Meaning that if you screw with any of us, you won't live long. He's our friend, not you."

Geren drew back a bit, and sat in silence.

After a few minutes, Lysi returned with two small jugs--one full of clear liquid, one full of something a vibrant red--and four mugs. The tiniest turn of his lip displayed his satisfaction as he deposited them on the table and slid back into place.

"A full serve each, and--"

"Full including him?" Maven's lips drew back in a scowl.

"Yes," Lysi answered calmly. Only a slight lift of his eyebrow indicated his surprise.

"What did he give? He's probably never been hungry a day in his life! I don't see why my effort should go to feed him."

"Then he may have mine," Lysi said in a soft, friendly tone of voice.

"No." Geren shook his head, although his stomach growled with hunger. "I don't need food, it's fine."

"Lyss' rybeniums made up most of the deal, Mav." Coriagh shifted towards Lysi, and suddenly there was a physical divide in the party.

"I should have asked first, but I didn't think it'd be a problem." Lysi leaned forward, ears perked. "But...I also managed a bit extra." He pulled out four small metal discs and placed them gently on the table.

"That's a good bargain, Lyss," Maven murmured, subsiding a bit and stroking her chin. "Very good. I haven't managed a shower token in weeks."

"Iella. Good, yes." the zebra muttered, then shook his head, glaring at Geren and raising his hand, pointing almost accusatorially. "But want for me and not him not contributed."

Lysi leaned over and nuzzled Geren's ear in tacit reassurance, draping a paw loosely over his shoulder; Geren closed his eyes and leaned back against him.

"The two of you!" Coriagh shook his head disapprovingly at the others. "He has nothing and nobody, no money and nowhere to live. And Lysi's rybeniums were most of the bargain."

"You didn't even contribute," Maven growled, turning on the dark-furred fox. "Why should we listen to you?"

Coriagh rose to his feet in an instant, shillelagh in his hand. The motion was so abrupt that Maven cowered back against the zebra and Geren shrank back against Lysi.

"Why should you? Because I put in more every time, maybe? For years?"

Maven looked angry, if a bit scared; the zebra shifted back, ready to stand.

"Sit down," Lysi's voice was soft but firm, and he tapped the table. To Geren's surprise, the objects of his command reluctantly complied. "He eats. My share."

"And as I'm a freeloader as well," Coriagh's tone was biting. "I give my share to Lyss."

Maven growled.

"Stop this." Lysi seemed slightly annoyed. "I can't believe you're behaving like this in front of my yotie. I am ashamed of you. He knows nothing of our society, and this is what we show?"

"We works for meal," the zebra straightened his shoulders with a disapproving look. "Is not good to shows him bad."

"Zori's right," Maven said. "We all work for it. No contribution, no food."

"I regret coming," Lysi said, voice flat. "I'm sorry for this, Geren."

Geren could think of nothing appropriate to say, so he squeezed the fox's paw. To his surprise, Lysi stood. He retrieved one disc from the table and slid it into the front pocket of his coveralls, then tugged on Geren's paw softly until he rose.

"We're leaving."

"Me too," Coraigh pushed back from the table, leveling an acid glare upon the other two.

"No. Stay, Corie," Lysi shook his head. "You haven't been eating well, and I insist."

"Is not for going." Zori frowned, broad eyes blinking. "The singings later, and storms?"

"I'll take the storm to this. You'll just have to perform without me. Come, yotie," Lysi's voice dropped affectionately, and he tugged Geren towards the exit.

"Wait. I'm sorry?" Maven's voice came from behind.

Lysi did not turn, leading Geren onward to the door. The guard lifted his head in slight surprise, but opened it for them without a word, and they stepped back out into the dark shaft.

"So you have to barter for showers and food?" Geren asked, in an undertone. "I thought subsistence was a right."

"There are public dispensaries, where bigger ones kill you for food." Lysi's warmth was tantalizing as he slowed his pace to turn back to him, but Geren found his whispered words chilling. "And public showers, where they kill and rape for fun. Usually broken anyway."

Geren shook his head, feeling mildly disoriented. At the factory, they had been completely isolated from the city around them; almost the entire workforce had been brought in from other worlds. The society within had often laughed and joked about the locals, though almost none had interacted with them--they were considered an underclass. Uneducated, unintelligent, poor and lazy. Lesser. And yet though he felt like a tourist, an observer, it was beginning to erode away, replaced with a burgeoning awareness that he was now as much a part of this underclass as any other citizen.

"If it floods again tonight, we'll lose the partrace." Lysi glanced upward as though he could see through the stories above. "The weather gets worse every day."

"Why is that?" Geren tilted his head, following the fox along another burned-out hallway. Rain misted down through openings in the floors above.

"I don't know," Lysi murmured. "It's said that the factories do it, that we'll become like Brynton. Through here," he pointed to an exit stair.

As they descended into the very-slightly-lit depths, the signs of environmental encroachment and fire damage grew fewer. While there was little light at first, the door they went through had one lonely red lamp shining, which lit the entire stairwell.

"I'm ... sorry about your friends. Will it be alright?"

"You are not to be sorry." Lysi sounded almost curt. "I am the one who is sorry--I thought better of them."

Another guard sat on a little stool outside of a black metal door. Lysi retrieved his token and handed it to her silently, and she handed him a towel.

"Thirty minutes," the guard rasped, voice gravely and rough. She cleared her throat and grinned. "But if nobody's a-comin', the two of you stay long as you like. Shouldn't be nobody, but I'll knock you up five minutes 'fore, if there is."

Lysi closed his eyes and bowed appreciatively. "Thank you."

"Sure," the guard smiled warmly.

Lysi ushered Geren through the door, into a blue-lit room with a tiled floor; the fox's firm paw on his rump kept him moving forward, even as the other paw began peeling off his filthy cloak and underwear. By the time they neared the end of the tiled hallway, Geren was nude, and Lysi's paw was exploring places that made it difficult for him to walk. Another paw against his upper back pressed him against the tiled wall, and his hunger was momentarily forgotten as a soft, warm pawpad stroked firmly against his undertail and hot breath stirred the fur on the back of his neck.

A small control panel sat beside a blue steel door in the same wall, and Lysi's paw reluctantly left his back to tap on it gently. Soft hissing began to emanate from behind the door, and the fox returned his paw to Geren, sliding them down to his tawny-furred hips and latching on. Teeth closed gently on the joint of his neck and shoulder in a possessive bite, and the fox ground firmly against his rump, drooling against his neck.

Geren had never felt so desired.

"In," Lysi whispered, turning him towards the door. He fumbled with the handle for a moment, then swung the door open.

Inside, multiple jets of water sprayed, steamed and misted into a surprisingly clean and well-maintained little chamber, and Lysi pushed him in eagerly, closing the door behind. The sensation of hot water coursing through his fur sucked away his attention momentarily; in the next moment, foxpaws had found a brush and some soap and began to brush through his fur. One paw found his erect length and began to work it softly; the other began to drag the soapy brush firmly through his chestfur.

He sighed softly, muzzle falling open in sensual pleasure as Lysi explored his form with the brush. When he was fully soaped up at last--and his length was gliding through the soapy wet pre that coated Lysi's paw with each of his little trembling thrusts--the fox stood back up and touched noses with him briefly, then stole a little kiss of his lips, placing the brush into Geren's paw.

Needing no further direction, Geren began to soap up his foxy lover, paws tracing along behind the brush, surprised at the many ridges of scars beneath his fur on his back and hips; after Lysi's first few little twitches, he softened his strokes.

As he made his way down to the fox's thighs, trying for the moment to ignore the bobbing, musky erection that hung in his face, a black-furred paw settled to his head, clutching his hair softly. It resisted his attempts to brush down below the knee, holding him gently but firmly. Moments later, he felt a cool stream wash across his muzzle and chest. He tugged back a bit, ears flat, and wrinkled his nose at the pungent, acrid scent of fox piss.

"Ssh, ssh," Lysi's other paw slid behind his head, holding him firmly in place.

"Ack," Geren whimpered, trying unsuccessfully to tug away. After a moment the stream subsided; the fox sank before him, kneeling to lick the water-diluted pee from his muzzle.

"My yotie," the fox whispered, then kissed him. Geren's slight revulsion at the slight taste of urine was overcome by the love of the soft foxkiss, and he melted into the moment without further care.

There was a sharp rap on the outer door, and Lysi rose to his feet, surprisingly lithe. He smiled coyly, tugging Geren up with him and beginning to rinse the soap from his fur.

"I love you, Lysi," Geren whispered, then winced self-consciously. "I mean..."

"Ssh," Lysi whispered. "I hope you mean just what you said, because I love you, too, yotiebutt. I've marked you as mine. My property."

Geren dipped his muzzle and trembled softly, paw sliding down to hold his painfully stiff shaft against the fox's shorter, thicker one and tug gently.

"Rrrh," Lysi growled, eyes narrowing. "And I'll keep marking you as mine. And claiming you. I love the sounds you make when I do," he whispered. "And I love you, my dear Geren."

Speechless, Geren merely nodded.

Outside, Lysi dried him first, then himself, then threw the clothes and towel into a chute in the wall and closed the door just as another rap sounded on the door, a bit more urgent.

Geren tilted his head, but Lysi merely grinned. After a moment, the bin opened by itself and Lysi pulled the clothes free; they appeared clean and smelled sanitized. Geren reached for the cloak, but Lysi shook his head and began to dress him himself, sliding his underwear up tawny-furred thighs and tucking his erection away within them, then wrapping the now-soft cloak about his shoulders.

"Now me," the fox whispered, lifting a hindpaw; as Geren knelt to put his underwear on, however, he felt a hot splash across his muzzle, and Lysi's scent filled the air.

"Gack."

"Let anyone who smells you have no doubt of whose you are," Lysi murmured, then stepped into his underwear and pulled them up himself.

Geren trembled, rapt. He'd heard that some people did such things, but had never thought he'd fall in love with one... and yet he didn't seem to mind at all. It just felt natural, almost feral. He stood as the fox finished dressing and tugged him up into a tight hug.

"When we get home," Lysi's breathy whisper was right in Geren's ear, "I'm going to tie you up and fuck you senseless, and teach you many things that only a fox can."

Geren's knees went weak, and he whimpered softly in response.

As they left the shower room, Geren could swear that the guard and the lanky panther waiting to enter both sniffed him and smirked. He felt a strange sensation course through him, and it made him feel very small and very possessed.

It was a wonderful feeling.

They arrived at the entrance to find that the storm had truly turned forth its fury upon the city; it took a few moments of building up confidence before they set out into its driving rain, immediately paw-deep in reeking, silty mud. They took the same route as before, but it was transformed by runnels of water in the street and frequent lightning. They had only made it about halfway when the power went out completely, and the sparse street lighting snapped off, leaving them stumbling forward for a few minutes before their eyes adjusted. Flickers and flashes of lightning were blinding, and the wind roared through the streets, carrying debris and rain; Geren wrapped Lysi's waterlogged cloak tightly around him, shivering softly. Only the promise of foxy warmth kept him from diverting to alcoves to avoid the pounding of the water.

When at last they reentered Lysi's tenement building, they stood shivering in the atrium for some time, silent and dripping.

"We're going to lose the partrace," Lysi sighed, breaking the silence at last.

"What is the partrace?"

"The lower fifth of the city. It's along the river, where the poor live."

Geren blinked. Where the poor live.

"Well, nevermind," Lysi shook his head and smiled. "Nothing we can do. Come."

Geren obediently followed the fox back to his room. Once more a firm paw on his rump urged him forward; he could hear the fox's excited, aroused breathing behind him. The door wasn't even shut before the fox pressed him forward against the support column in the middle of the room, stripping him down. Paws slid to his hips and turned him around, pushing him down until his back was pressed against the dirty floor, then clutched at his wrists, pressing them into a set of restraints anchored to the base of the column. The fox kicked off his coveralls, then kicked some clothes out of the way, revealing a set of restraints in a track on the floor. Geren closed his eyes in surrender, allowing his legs to be locked into them and spread. A little smile touched his lips. His eyes opened wide once more, however, as he smelled foxscent, and felt hot flesh pressed against his muzzle. He whimpered, finding the fox's musky rump pressed against his lips.

"Lick," Lysi said.

Lust overrode logic and restraint, and Geren sighed against the fox's pink flesh, tongue brushing gently along.

A bang startled him, and Lysi's knee dragged across his face as the fox rose abruptly.

"What--" he blinked blurry eyes up at the sound of a soft thud, watching in shock as his lover was flung back into his makeshift kitchen table by a looming form silhouetted in the doorway. There was a crash, and the table fell over.

Lysi lay still and did not move.

"Well, this is exactly what I meant by before you get in trouble," a gruff, angry, familiar voice caused Geren's stomach to clench.

"No!" Geren cried out, writhing against his restraints. "No, you don't understand," he sobbed. "Please, don't hurt him."

"Doesn't look like I need to," Lapis' voice was scornful as he regarded the crumpled form. "Now shut up. None of us thought you'd be this fucking stupid."

The wolf knelt, looking over the restraints for a moment before twisting a couple of latches and releasing Geren's limbs. When his paws were released, Geren struck out at the wolf, trying to push away and inflict damage, unsure of which drive was stronger. His blows were ineffectual, and one firm backhand across his jaw from the wolf left him stunned and weak.

"Fucking idiot," Lapis growled. "You're just gonna cause trouble, aren't you?"

Nearly three hundred pounds of wolf twisted him over and bound his paws behind him, tying his legs together painfully tightly. A tight strap went around his muzzle, and then Lapis tossed him over his shoulder like he might a sack of flour. As he was hauled out of the door, the last thing he saw through tear-blurred eyes was Lysi's inert form, blood highlighting the white fur beneath his lovely jawline.