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Soft electronic music - what was called "ambient" by musicologists and those souls born in the ancient cauldron of the starstream - flowed effortlessly into the living room of the small, pleasantly cramped apartment. At his study desk, the lean golden-furred otter pored over many a quaint and curious volume of lore that probably should have been forgotten. In the grand scheme of things, the poetry of Robert Southey could go astray with no shepherd of the Lake District poets fretting over finding him again. Still, the work was important to his thesis, so the otter had little choice but to keep plodding through the works of the nineteenth century's equivalent of Hallmark cards.

He stretched luxuriantly, his compact form curling as if his spine were made of elastic. His muscular tail, expressive as well as functional, flipped and batted at the floor in sheer pleasure at the movement. He had been too still for too long. That would soon change, although he wasn't quite sure in what way. The phone call he had received had been brief, urgent, as many before had been, but he sensed something more behind it this time. Harris may finally have made a breakthrough, confirming his heterosexuality after all. The otter admitted that he had mixed feelings about this possibility, but the overall feeling would be one of pleasure, and perhaps a touch of misplaced pride. (Misplaced, or mislaid, his mind punned...)

The otter stood, padding into the kitchen to put the kettle on. He'd managed to get Harris hooked on good tea, and he felt an obligation to feed the addiction properly whenever the young lion came to visit. Harris was living proof that even the_hoi polloi_ could be trained, given enough incentive. He smiled to himself as he filled the kettle with filtered water. He remembered how fidgety Harris was when Jerry offered him a very miniaturized version of a simple Japanese tea ceremony. The lion was game, however, and tried it twice more, that third time in a visit that wasn't comprised primarily of sex. There was definitely hope for him. Harris' origins were as common as they come, but the lion himself was made of better stuff. Given a little time, the kit would make some female a very good husband.

Having readied cups and a plate of fresh maple biscuits, the otter realized that, in the interest of being a proper host, he might want to wear more than just his shorts. He was about to remedy the situation when he heard the knock at the door. The sound was oddly distinctive to his small rounded ears. Not only was he certain that it was Harris, he sensed something - perhaps influenced by the phone call - oddly humble in the sound.

Opening the front door, the otter found a wholly unexpected sight: Bobby Harris, the college's star junior varsity quarterback, poster-cat stud muffin in every sorority on campus, and notorious party animal in almost every pub in town... had been crying.

"Harris! By the gods, are you all right? Come in, come in..." The otter stepped aside to let the lion by. The tall feline smelled of soap and, to anyone with a nose to detect it, an undertone of desperation, something that could be misinterpreted as sexual in nature. "Sit down; I've got some tea brewing."

"I didn't come to be fed."

"Tea isn't food; it's comfort." He guided the young lion to the sofa and sat next to him, one leg under himself in order to face him. The cat simply sat, looking vaguely miserable, resigned, defeated. It took long moments for him to speak.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted in the library yesterday." The lion's cheeks reddened underneath his fur. "You deserved better. Maybe even Parker deserved better."

"Yes, he did," the otter replied mildly. "If he calls me, I'll see what he has to say about it. For what it's worth, Harris, I overstepped as well. I hope I didn't actually hurt you."

The footballer smirked. "That'll teach me to wear a cup at all times."

"I was referring to the lie I told. I did it to get your attention, because you knew we were being listened to. I denied everything, when Parker asked. Even so, I went too far. I apologize."

"The only lie you told was of... fucking me. The rest was true."

"It's no one else's concern."

The look in Harris' eyes was one of consideration, of capitulation, of a decision being made. "Jerry, I think I may be gay after all."

The otter's eyebrows twitched in an expression of concern, but the rest of his face betrayed nothing. He'd stake his oath that the lion was wrong, but something had happened, and he knew that he couldn't rush Harris into telling him what it was. Coaxing might work. "Why do you say that?"

Harris looked down at his forepaws in his lap, struggling to say something. After several seconds, the lion looked into Jerry's eyes, reached up to touch his cheek. "You told me that being gay isn't about sex, but about who you can really love." He fell silent, moving his head slowly, coming finally to touch his lips to the otter's.

Jerry didn't refuse the kiss, and in fact found himself responding to it quite warmly. It wasn't the first kiss that he had shared with the lion; the otter had long ago established that he couldn't trust anyone in his bed who didn't want to kiss. He and Harris had given up the quickie glory hole thing some time ago, and the feline adapted quickly enough to the ordinary mashing of mandibles, searching lips, and passionate tongue wrestling. This kiss was different - slow, soft, the lion's tongue barely present, and a sense of intensity that went beyond the merely sexual, beyond surface sensuality. Emotions here were raw, elemental, nothing to be taken lightly. Both the lion's and the otter's tails flicked from time to time, as if expressing those emotions more directly.

The whistling tea kettle was all that separated them, and it took a number of seconds to do so.

The otter put a webbed paw to the lion's shoulder, patted it gently, moved slowly to rescue the kettle from its tortures. The water would be far too hot now, he knew, for this particular tea. One day, he'd have an electric kettle with actual temperature controls; for now, simply adding a dose of cold water into the hot would have to do. He'd have used a thermometer to check, but he was well aware that he mustn't take so long with this simple task. He warmed the pot, emptied it, put in the strainer and spooned in the tea (one for my guest, one for me, one for the pot for proper English tea), then poured the water through it as slowly as he dared. Kettle on a cold element, cozy over the pot, he brought the whole tray to the table near the sofa.

He sat next to the lion once again, close enough to reach out a webbed forepaw and caress the cat's cheek. "Harris, that's the nicest kiss I've ever received from you, and it means a lot to me. Thank you."

"Jerry, I--"

Swiftly, gently, the otter put a finger to Harris' lips. "Please wait just a moment more. I won't stop you from saying it, but please wait until we've talked a little."

The lion shook his head softly, smiling. "I still want to say it."

"Can you tell me why?"

"Because I finally realized that you're the only person I really trust. Tonight, I realized that it's why I keep coming back to you. You're the only person I've had sex with more than twice. You're the only person who understands me, and who listens, and who calls me on my shit." The lion paused, his voice quieter. "You're the only person I ever stayed the night with."

Jerry nodded slowly. "Those are very important reasons. And I would be a fool not to think that those reasons add up to the word that you want to use. This will sound strange, Harris, but... do you think that makes you gay?"

The quarterback squirmed a little in his chair. "That's part of it."

"What's the rest?"

Another pause. "Something happened. Tonight."

The otter began pouring the tea, preparing both cups the way Harris had come to like this particular blend - lemon and honey. "Tell me what happened." He passed the cup to the lion saying,"Dozo, Okyaku-San."

"Domo. Domo arigato. Ichi-go-ichie." Harris accepted the cup politely, sniffing the tea delicately, the smile on his face showing approval. He sipped carefully, nodded slowly. "I still remember what you taught me," he said. "Ichi-go-ichie. Maybe I understand that better now." Clearing his throat, the lion shifted again, his tail flicking nervously. "I was working out in the varsity weight room. No one else there. Until Parker showed up."

Jerry went through the motions of sampling his tea to keep his own tell-tale twitches from showing.

"He hasn't called you yet," Harris noted. "Came to find me instead."

"So you two talked?"

"I'm not sure I'd call it that," the lion tried to chuckle, the sound coming out more like an aborted cry. "I had a chance to tell him something about our friendship. That you keep me honest with myself. That you've never been cruel to me." Something crossed the kit's face at that point; Jerry tried to read the expression and couldn't quite manage it. He realized all at once that whatever change had taken place in Harris' mind and heart, it was substantial.

"I try not to be. Although I do sometimes have to get your attention."

Harris smiled awkwardly. "Only when I'm still behaving like a redneck. I had a whole kit-hood to overcome."

"I hope I'm allowed to say that I think you've done very well."

"You made it possible. It's another reason why I want to say..." He paused and smiled. "...what I want to say."

"What else did you and Parker talk about?"

"I did most of the talking." The lion sipped more tea, clearly enjoying it. "I think he wanted to know if he could trust you, and I told him that he could."

The otter sipped his own tea, waiting. There was clearly more that the young quarterback was reluctant to bring forward. "And?" he asked simply.

Harris' hesitation was honest - he actually needed the moment to compose himself. After one more sip of tea, he set his cup down on the table and shifted himself to face Jerry more directly. "I think I was trying to seduce him. Or at least trying to get him to touch me." He swallowed, his resolve shaking as was his voice. "I took into account the idea that I was worked up from my exercise, and I still had fantasies of wanting him to touch me. Wanting you to touch me. Mostly you. I really wanted you. Jerry, I really... want..."

Jerry quickly put his cup on the table and reached out to Harris. The lion fell into his arms, wrapping his arms around the otter, holding him tightly, his head pressed against the golden-furred chest as fresh tears appeared. He pet the feline's full, sweet-smelling mane softly, murring soft sounds and chitters into his ear. Jerry would have wagered points on his dissertation defense that Harris was not the sort of male to indulge in crying for anything short of a death - of a loved one, or perhaps of an idea of equal importance. Had Jerry been wrong? Could the kit who all but crushed him in his embrace, sobbing inconsolably against his bare chest, actually be gay after all?

Long minutes passed as teacups grew cold and fresh maple biscuits were ignored. No words were spoken, the only sounds being slowly waning sobs and delicate murmurs of comfort. When finally the sobs abated, the young lion issued a low, quiet, frightened sort of purring, the sound of a kitten desperately needing solace. Unsure if it were the right thing to do, Jerry moved a forepaw to raise Harris' chin, and leaned down to offer a kiss as slow and tender as the one he'd been given earlier. As before, the kit let the kiss be simple, romantic and chaste, without suggestion, without an agenda, without hurry. The otter followed suit, his mind still paying close attention, his heart discovering something that might be even more important.

The kiss faded slowly, muzzles nuzzling each other like an afterglow. The otter knew that his heart beat more quickly than usual; he could almost hear the same from the lion's faster breathing and the sense of a vein pulsing in his neck. Before he knew what he was about, he found himself whispering, "Should we... take this elsewhere?"

Reluctantly breaking the embrace, the lion whispered, "Yes... please."

Both stood slowly and moved toward the bedroom, the otter in the lead, thoughts whirling in nervous confusion. At the bed, he turned and looked almost shyly at the sculpted lion who stood before him, his cheek fur still damp with tears, his eyes softer and more vulnerable than he had ever seen them. With sensual, unhurried, economical moves, the kit doffed his shirt and pants, letting them fall to the floor. Naked, his fur almost glowing in the dim light filtering in from the living area, he glided effortlessly to the otter, reaching behind to unsnap the strap above the thick tail before putting his forepaws tenderly onto the mustelid's hips, pulling gently downward until the shorts slid away to the floor. He guided the otter backward onto the bed and joined him there, taking him into his arms and holding closely, gently, pressing against him yet making no other move.

Harris raised a forepaw to Jerry's head and pet him, the close golden fur, the small rounded ears, a fingertip along the muzzle line... Jerry shivered, unused to such delicate, intimate treatment from the usually anxious and fevered lion. He let out a breath that he wasn't even aware he'd been holding, looked into the feline's eyes, and found himself holding his breath again. He saw the Word, there in Harris' eyes. He saw the essence of the Word itself, as plain as if it had already been spoken. Without really being aware, he raised his own paw to touch the beautiful russet mane, the damp cheek fur, down to the ruff on the lion's neck and chest, and then became aware of a tear in his own eye.

"Boku no koibito sensei," the young feline whispered, a soft smile on his muzzle. "I'm glad you taught me that phrase."

Jerry found himself nodding slightly then, recovering, he began to move his paw down the lion's chest and tightly-muscled belly, touching firmly, sensually, guiding himself past the languid, thick cock until he was able to cup the feline's large furry orbs, rolling them slowly in his webbed paw. He was surprised when Harris took the forepaw into his own and pulled it gently away. He felt the question form itself into the frown crossing his brow.

"Just hold me," he whispered. "I want to know that it's not just physiology. I want to feel something different tonight, teacher. I want to know what it's like to trust to something more than just sex. Something more than just cumming. I've never known that before."

The buffed young lion shifted, pulling Jerry against him with his head on the chiseled chest, a firm, warm pillow that could make a very welcome place to doze. Jerry heard the heartbeat, definitely the lion's heartbeat, thumping hard, steady, comforting.

"I won't say it tonight," Harris whispered. "But I will want to say it tomorrow. I feel sure that I'll want to say it, to show it... tomorrow."

Jerry tried to reconcile his emotions, his telling bodily reactions that could be anything from joy to terror. Too new. Too strange. This wasn't what he thought would happen. He had offered something more than friendship, less than a commitment to anything other than discretion and truth, and he had thought that the kit would come to understand that he didn't fear females, he feared pain. It wasn't uncommon, a young male being unable to reconcile his emotions and his sexual needs with the demands that relationships put upon him. When you're young, testosterone-filled, and built like the statue of a Greek god, it's difficult for the heart and mind to catch up to the runaway gonads. That's all it was, Jerry was sure. Harris was straight. He'd make some female a good husband one day. He learned fast, and he learned well, and the right female...

"Sensei... may I stay with you tonight?"

The otter wrapped his arm around the lion, warmly, protectively, all thought banished."Boku no koibito gakusei."

He felt the lion's paw on his shoulder, heard the purr rumbling deep in the kit's chest, and he knew that the Word had already been said...