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Jherik's Tale

By Kyell Gold

**Part 2

This is part 2 of a story that takes place in the world of the novel "[Volle](%5C)" and the story "Prisoner's Release." If you haven't read [part 1](%5C), you should do so now!

In the morning, he slept until lunch, then went down to the barracks to try to find the fox. New recruits weren't allowed in the practice room alone, so maybe it was some impatient cub who wanted to feel what it was like to hold a sword. As he approached the barracks, he heard Master Winson's gruff voice running through the last of a series of basic exercise drills. "And down for twenty, nineteen, eighteen, you'll do twenty more if I don't hear you counting..."

"Fifteen...fourteen..." came a ragged chant. Jherik saw a class of ten recruits stepping forward in lunges, arms coming up with each one. They wore only short skirts, and it was not an overly warm day, but most of them were panting.

Mishel was among them, second largest next to the only wolf in the group, but the wolf was skinny and didn't have Mishel's build. Jherik watched the coyote's leg muscles bunch and flow, and noted that the coyote was barely panting, even when they finished the second set on the other leg. The wolf's tongue was lolling out of his muzzle, most of the others were panting hard, and one raccoon was hunched over with a paw to his side.

The coyote, by contrast, stood and jogged in place until Master Winson gave them a five-minute break before their kitchen duty. Then he stood and stretched his legs, one by one, holding them until his muscles bulged under his sandy fur. He raised both arms over his head, his broad chest flattened by the stretch, then arched his tail and bent to touch his toes. Watching from behind, Jherik caught a tantalizing glimpse of the bottom of Mishel's shapely rear, and found himself unable to look away.

Mishel straightened slowly and languidly, and as he turned his muzzle ever so slightly in Jherik's direction, the cougar caught a flash of the coyote's eye and the slightest hint of a smile, and suddenly realized that the show had been all for his benefit.

He watched the group straggle up the road to the manor, picking up tunics from the edge of the field, and felt a sudden need to visit the practice room.

Two unsatisfying spars later, he remembered that he'd come down here to look for a fox. The dormitories held only a senior goat and raccoon playing a dice game; the other senior soldiers were probably drilling or in town relaxing, and the new recruits were probably all up at the manor helping in the kitchens or stables or wherever Drinn, the house steward, could put them to work. Master Winson might have been able to tell him which of the new recruits fit the bill, but Jherik felt oddly possessive of his mystery, and besides, talking to Master Winson would entail explaining why he was wandering around the barracks in the middle of the night.

He could go up to the manor and search, but neither the prospect of walking through the kitchens and stables nor the idea of talking to Drinn to find out where the recruits were held much appeal for him. A visit to the kitchens might let him see Mishel again, but he didn't want to appear to be too eager to see the coyote. He would arrange to run into him later that evening, perhaps, or the next day.

And besides, it occurred to him, he could always come back to the practice room that night, and see if the fox returned. That would be the best course, more private than the manor and easier than searching all over during the daylight.

He spent the afternoon doing some basic exercises to stay in shape, bored, but glad to have something on his mind besides his father and brother. When he felt he'd taxed his muscles enough, he did fifteen minutes more, and then walked slowly back to the manor.

After a short powder bath, he joined the family for dinner. His brother's usual chair stood empty, and again, his father didn't invite him to occupy it. Reminded of his brother's heroic mission, stewing at the perceived slight, Jherik answered his father's questions with monosyllabic grunts and ate his meal as quickly as possible. With little regard for the niceties of courtesy, and without his brother to keep him at the table, he felt free to get up before dessert was served and wander back down the manor to the barracks, ignoring his father's half-hearted reprimand.

The anger stayed with him as he leaned against the barracks wall in the shade of the building, watching the setting sun paint the manor house a fiery red. Normally, at this time of night, Corrif and a few of Jherik's other long-time friends in the army would be around for him to sit and talk with, maybe throw a few dice with, spar with, or go into town and drink with. Their absence stoked his discontent, and kept his tail thumping against the wood of the building as it twitched.

The group of recruits appeared at the crest of the hill some twenty minutes later, having undoubtedly helped clean up after the meal. Mishel and the young wolf were talking, the coyote waving his paws to make some sort of point. He didn't notice Jherik until he'd entered the shadow of the building as well.

Jherik met his eyes coolly, fixing the coyote so Mishel would know why Jherik was there. The coyote looked back, stopped and said something to the wolf, then walked across the group of recruits as they padded tiredly inside.

"My lord," Mishel said deferentially, stopping about two feet in front of Jherik and looking up at him with a knowing smile.

"Good evening, Mishel." The sight of the coyote had driven other thoughts from his mind. His legs were thrumming and he was afraid that his desire was easily apparent to the coyote's sensitive nose. He curled his tail around his leg, but couldn't stop the tip from twitching.

"You wanted to...see me?" The coyote was standing respectfully, but pushing his chest out to show it off, even under the rough tunic. His legs, still bare, were impressive highlights against the shadow of the building.

Jherik cleared his throat. He very badly wanted to see the coyote now, all of him. "Yes. This way?"

He hadn't meant to make it a question. To make up for it, he strode off without waiting or turning to see if Mishel would follow him. He walked around the back of the building to where a small stand of trees grew against the outer wall of the manor grounds. Inside the trees, they would be at least partially hidden from the barracks. There wasn't another sheltered place nearby. Jherik had hidden here with his brother, when they were younger and the soldiers played "hide and stalk" with them.

Memories of his brother brought old feelings back; he banished them as he turned inside the trees to face Mishel. The coyote grinned, his tail swishing behind him as he stepped closer to Jherik. "My lord?"

"I enjoyed...your show today," Jherik said.

Mishel lowered his ears. "I am pleased if my lord liked what he saw. I am at my lord's disposal."

Jherik stared at him for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the dusk, but he couldn't find words. With a quick motion, he stooped and slid his paw under the fringe of Mishel's skirt, lifting it until he felt the coyote's sac against his fingers. He lifted his paw further, rubbing his pad against the thick ridge he found there as he lowered his muzzle to touch noses with the coyote, exhaling against him.

He was aware of the scent of his dinner on his breath, and suddenly the gesture didn't seem as romantic as in the stories. But Mishel was growling in soft pleasure and pressing into his paw, wrapping arms around him to pull his hard body closer. A questing tongue licked at Jherik's muzzle, nudging it open, pulling him into a kiss that ended with the coyote's skirt on the ground and Jherik's pants undone by agile paws.

Mishel was already half-erect by the time his paws found Jherik's member. They traced up his engorged sheath and slid along the hard length to the tip, brushing on both sides. Jherik tried to keep pace, holding Mishel's firm body against his with one paw pressed against the ridges of his back while the other curled around the coyote's maleness. Both paws were rubbing, and Jherik didn't know whether to be more delighted with the coyote's firmly taut back or his growing smooth erection.

He moaned softly, overcome with sensations, and that was when Mishel dropped to his knees.

Jherik blinked in surprise as both his paws were abruptly emptied, but in that moment the coyote had already applied his muzzle to the cougar's trembling length and was licking it steadily, and any objections Jherik was going to voice were lost in a flood of warmth. Each stroke of the tongue made him shiver, and he had to lean back and brace himself against the tree when Mishel's entire muzzle slid down to take his length in.

Slowly at first, gathering speed, the coyote lowered his muzzle and brought it back up. Jherik watched his body ripple as his weight shifted with each stroke, finding that the view intensified the sensations spreading outward from his sheath. Mishel used his tongue and teeth, catching the fleshy ridges on Jherik's member as he slid back, pressing them in when he moved forward. His tail wagged behind him in slow synchrony with his movements.

Jherik began to rock back and forth, keeping his moans low so they wouldn't carry to the barracks. The coyote's free paw explored the back of his leg, feeling the muscles, and Jherik felt a surge of pride at his body and Mishel's interest in it. He tightened his legs as the coyote's paw roamed them, and thrust into the smooth muzzle, growling in his throat and chest.

With each thrust, he felt the increased pressure of Michel's tongue, and the firm grip of both paws, one at the base of his sheath and one around the back of his right leg. That one didn't even move when Jherik had to shift his weight suddenly as his body was overloaded with sensations. He gripped Mishel's powerful shoulder with one paw and the tree behind him with the other (so he could sink his claws into something) and clamped his muzzle shut as the moans and growls burst up from his chest and his seed burst out into Mishel's muzzle.

For a second, he was aware only of that feeling, and then he sank back to earth, still pumping small spurts onto the coyote's tongue. A few moments later, his fur settled and he relaxed, finally letting his muzzle open to pant. He squeezed Mishel's shoulder as the coyote slid his muzzle off, leaving his shaft dripping in the evening breeze.

Mishel straightened up, pulling his skirt up, and touched his nose to Jherik's. "I'd best not miss bed check." He smiled and licked his lips.

"Uh," Jherik said, nodding when he couldn't make a more coherent sound.

The coyote smiled and padded back towards the barracks, while Jherik ran through every possible thing he could have said and hadn't.

He was still leaning against the tree some minutes later, when the bell rang for bed check. Slowly, he pulled his pants up and fastened them. It was almost pointless to go back up to the manor now; he might as well wait in the practice room and see if the fox showed up.

Master Winson usually finished the check in about fifteen minutes. Jherik waited for what he judged to be twenty, savoring the memory of Mishel's body and muzzle, and then padded to the barracks. It was easy enough to get in silently, and his paws made no noise as he crept through the hallways.

At the door to the practice room, he paused. It was still silent inside, so he was about to enter and wait for the fox, but he remembered that a fox could probably smell him through the door. Congratulating himself on his cunning, he crept instead to the armory next door and slipped inside, leaving the door open a crack so he could hear any sound.

Half an hour later, he was rewarded with the soft click-click of claws on the stone of the hallway. Pity foxes can't retract their claws, he thought smugly, listening for the soft creak as the practice room door opened and then closed. He gave the fox a few minutes to get settled, then padded quietly up to the door and listened.

He heard the soft grunts and pants of exertion from inside, and grinned. This time, he didn't bother to take a torch, just pushed the door open, slid inside, and closed it, leaning back against it.

The shadowy shape in the middle of the room dropped the sword it was holding with a loud clang. A moment later, Jherik caught his scent, again with that nagging tickle of familiarity. "Now," he said when the shadow didn't move, "maybe you'd like to tell me what you're doing here."

He heard the shuffle of feet. The shape was becoming clearer as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. "They won't let us in here yet."

The voice triggered the memory the scent had been trying to unlatch. Jherik leaned forward and sniffed the air. "Benton?"

There was a short sigh. "Yes, sir."

"I thought you went with my brother."

"No, sir. I asked if I could remain behind, and he selected another valet. I believe Kenseth went with him."

The fox's form was becoming clearer to Jherik now. He was about a foot shorter than Jherik, thin and lanky. It almost looked like his bushy tail weighed more than he did. Still, he was taller than Jherik remembered him.

"Why did you join the army?"

"I'm not very good at fighting. I thought I should be." Now he could see the gleam of the fox's eyes, turned towards him in the dark.

"Is that why you didn't go with my brother?"

Benton paused before every answer as though he were afraid of saying the wrong thing. "Yes. I'm seventeen, I'm an adult. I can choose to join the army."

Jherik smiled. "It's okay, I was just surprised. I haven't seen you in months, since...since..."

"Halliponte," Benton said in a low voice.

"Yes! That was a disaster, eh? I thought it would never stop raining." He chuckled.

"It did once we got back."

"I remember that. I think I ran through all the curses I knew."

He heard a slight cough from the fox that might have been a muffled laugh. "Marhik didn't know what to say."

Jherik felt the bitterness creep back into him. "For once."

He could see the fox as clearly as the dim light would allow, now. He was wearing worn pants, but no shirt covered the soft white of his chest. The underside of his muzzle was a dirty grey, or else in shadow, and his head and arms were reddish-orange with darker streaks that Jherik thought he remembered were brown. Benton's black ears had lain back at Jherik's remark.

He felt the fox's discomfort, and waved a paw to the sword on the ground. "You know, that's too heavy for you."

A long blink obscured the bright eyes for a moment. "I know," Benton said finally. "I wanted to build up my muscles. Sir."

"You're better off doing it slowly with a sword you can carry. Otherwise your muscles are too tired to do the motions properly and you waste your energy." Jherik walked over to the sword rack and picked a lighter, thinner sword. "Here. Try this one."

Benton gaped at him. Jherik held out the sword's handle to him and smiled. "I used to sneak in here at night too."

"Thank you, sir." He took the sword and raised it.

"You know how to hold it. Do you know the various positions?"

"I think so." Benton started to move the sword, then hesitated.

Jherik smiled and stood behind him, bringing his arm down along the fox's much thinner arm. He took the black-furred paw gently in his own. "Here. Basic guard position. Parry right. Parry left. Don't be nervous, you're doing fine."

He could feel the fox trembling against him. Benton took a breath in and let it out slowly, but his tail still twitched against Jherik's legs. "Thank you, sir."

"Now thrust." He pushed Benton's arm forward, leaning to make the fox shift his weight. "Don't be afraid of going too far forward. Just don't overbalance. You don't have to do it quickly now, just learn the position. The speed will come later."

Benton seemed reluctant to move forward no matter how hard Jherik leaned on him, so he nudged the fox's right foot with his own. "Move the foot forward. There you go."

The fox's ears twitched beneath Jherik's muzzle as he slowly rose from the lunge position. "Thank you. Sir."

Jherik stepped back, pleased. "Now, let's see you try the positions."

He watched Benton go through the basic positions, correcting his grip and stance several times. After an hour, the fox could move pretty well from one position to the next. Jherik felt a small swell of pride in his new pupil's achievement.

"I think that's enough for tonight," he said when he noticed Benton's eyes drooping. "I'm sure I could get permission for you to practice in here during the day if you want."

Benton shook his head and walked over to the rack, putting the sword away. "Thank you, sir, but they keep us busy. I wouldn't have time. I'll just keep coming at night." He smiled. "Thanks for your help, sir."

"You're welcome, Benton." He patted the fox's narrow shoulder and watched him leave, his tail dragging behind him. He enjoyed working with young soldiers, but he'd never taught before; he'd always just helped Corrif or Master Winson. Benton was obviously quick to learn, and he must have some passion for it, or he wouldn't be sneaking down here at night. Jherik resolved to come back the next night, and continue his education.

And it was convenient, he thought, because he was already planning to come down to see Mishel before bed check anyway.

He snuck down to the kitchens after sleeping in again. At this time of the morning, only the cooks were in; the extra help from the recruits wouldn't arrive until later, when they had to clean up from lunch and prepare dinner. He skipped over an otter cub who was sitting on the floor scrubbing a pot clean, dodged around two of the cooks, bobcats who were arguing over how long to cook the guinea fowl for lunch, and waved to Darra, the head cook. The little weasel put her paws on her hips. "You can't get to breakfast like everyone else?"

"Darra," he pleaded, "I was tired. Come on, I know there's something left."

"Of course, of course, there's always something left, but why should I give it to you? We reuse all this food! I don't just throw it away." Her eyes twinkled as she teased him.

"Please!" He fell to his knees melodramatically.

"Well." She looked nonplused. "This is the cheeriest I've seen you in a long time. I guess that deserves something."

While he got up, she turned to a counter beside her where leftovers were stacked and took a plate from behind them that had obviously been prepared in advance, stacked with three berry cakes, some ripe grapes, and half of a freshly baked loaf of bread. Jherik took the plate and inhaled the aroma of the bread as he broke it open. "Any honey?" he asked, tail twitching hopefully.

"In there." Darra shook her head and grinned, going back to her work. Jherik padded to the container she'd indicated and took out a lump of honeycomb, spread the honey on the bread, then popped the rest into his mouth as he waved cheerily and left the kitchen.

The weather was nice, so he carried his food down the hill and watched the soldiers training. Benton was in this batch, just doing basic strengthening exercises. He kept one eye on the fox as he amused himself sticking the grapes to his honey-coated paw and then licking them off. He'd finished most of his food and was licking his paw clean when a shadow fell over his plate; he looked up and saw his father.

The older cougar squatted down beside him. "Jherik. I want to talk to you."

His good mood vanished in the shadow. He stared down sullenly at the barracks, dreading what this talk would be about. Another warning about consorting with soldiers, perhaps, or a gentle admonition to keep regular hours. With the inevitable subtext, why can't you be more responsible like your brother? "Yes, sir."

"I know it's been hard since your brother left. I keep wondering if I did the right thing. But he was right, that was how it had to be."

He paused, perhaps to allow Jherik to voice his feelings. The young cougar grunted.

"So," his father continued, "I thought that to keep our minds off of his mission, and to...prepare for the worst..."

Jherik interrupted then. "He'll be fine."

His father put a paw on his shoulder. "I know. I keep thinking that too. But it might be a good idea for you to start sitting with me for a couple hours every morning. Some days I meet with people, and other days we can just talk about politics and affairs of state."

"I'm no good at that."

"Jherik," his father sighed, "maybe you've just never tried."

Jherik could vividly remember sitting through history and state lessons with a tutor, dozing off as he stared out the window at the soldiers practicing below. But there wasn't any point in arguing with his father. If he wanted Jherik to sit through interminable discussions and archaic lessons that served no useful purpose, then Jherik would sit through them and that was the end of it.

"Fine," he said, looking down the hill to where the recruits were finishing up their exercises.

"You'll have the afternoons free to be with your army friends," his father assured him. "I'm just asking for a little time. I think it would help both of us."

"I said fine." He regretted the sharpness in his tone, not because he didn't want to express his bitterness, but because he was afraid his father would get angry with him.

The older cougar didn't, though; he just sighed and stood up. "Tomorrow morning after breakfast, in my office, then." Jherik nodded, and a moment later the shadow was gone.

Benton was gone, too, and Master Winson was working with a new class of recruits, Mishel among them. Jherik hadn't seen where the fox had gone, but he didn't spend a lot of time wondering about it. The sight of the coyote working out kept him quite enjoyably distracted for an hour and a half, during which he planned that evening's activities and shifted several times to accommodate his surprisingly enthusiastic sheath.

When the recruits had disappeared into the manor, Jherik stood and stretched, and walked down to the barracks. He thought he might do some sparring in the practice room, but when he got there, Master Winson was training a couple soldiers.

"Ah, Jherik," he said, and waved him in. "Could you join us? I could use a helper here."

"Sure." Jherik grabbed a practice sword from the wall and stripped his shirt off, doing a couple stretches before he stood and faced the soldiers, a mountain goat and a rat. He knew them both, but not well; they were in their third year of service and showed neither the inclination to leave nor the drive to excel. He saw Cherruf, the goat, flare his nostrils, and Barbric, the rat, twitched his whiskers, but otherwise they didn't show any intimidation they felt.

He could have gotten past their defenses with ease, and once or twice he did, but as he listened to Master Winson instructing them, he followed the old badger's instructions. His former teacher was well aware of his capabilities and told him how much to keep them in check. Previously, Jherik had simply followed his instructions, but today, with Benton in mind, he tried to observe and see how Master Winson was trying to increase Cherruf and Barbric's confidence while at the same time showing them where they needed to improve. Barbric in particular seemed uninterested in learning that day; Master Winson had to repeat instructions two and three times before he followed them, and five minutes later he appeared to have forgotten he'd ever heard them. Benton would have picked up on that by now, Jherik found himself thinking more than once, and he stored away tips to give the fox the next time he saw him.

"That was good," Master Winson said after Cherruf and Barbric had been dismissed. He was eyeing Jherik curiously, one white eye-stripe lifted. "What did you think of them?"

"Me?" Jherik flicked his ears. The old badger nodded at him. "Well...Barbric never seemed motivated, but today especially he just didn't seem to care. Even when he was putting the swords away." He indicated a piece of the weapons rack that the rat had knocked off when he carelessly banged it with the sword.

"What about Cherruf?"

"I don't know. It's hard to tell. He seems to be working pretty hard."

"What would you tell him to work on?"

"Just what you said. He comes out of his defense too slowly. It needs to be more fluid."

Master Winson grinned. "What would you tell him to work on in addition to what I told him?"

Jherik thought about that. "I guess I would just tell him to try to understand what he's doing. He doesn't have a glaring weakness, but it seems like...like..." he groped for words. "Like he just knows what to do, but not why. You know, when he blocks a left-side attack, he blocks to the left away from the body because that's what we taught him. But what if it was a left-side sidestep? He'd be blocking it along the line of motion and leave himself open to a strike."

Master Winson rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You're thinking more about this. That's good. Why don't you come back tomorrow? Cherruf will be back the day after, and we can work with him then, but I'd like your help tomorrow too."

"All right." Jherik pulled his shirt on, hiding his surprise. He'd assisted Master Winson a pawful of times in the past and had never been commended like this. Cougar gives with one paw and takes with the other, he thought, only today the order had been reversed. He thought he could make it through the mornings with his father if he had afternoon classes to look forward to. And the nighttime classes as well, and for as long as it lasted, his evening trysts.

After dinner, he waited for Mishel in the same place, and the coyote crossed over to him again, leaving his fellow recruits. Jherik noticed that several of them turned to look at him as Mishel approached him, and when the coyote was near, Jherik said, "Maybe I should just meet you in the trees from now on."

"As you wish, m'lord," Mishel said easily, and this time he led the way, pulling his tunic off before they were halfway to the grove. Jherik watched the play of muscles under the fur of his back, the taut round shape of his rump through the shorts as his tail swayed across it, and the powerful spring of his calves and thighs in the fading light. He was aroused not only by Mishel's wonderful body, but also by the coyote's easy acceptance of the implicit request for future meetings.

Inside the trees, the coyote turned and placed his paws on either side of Jherik's chest. He turned his muzzle up to the cougar's, and when he spoke, his breath slid across Jherik's nose and whiskers, bringing the scent of meat and bread and desire. "What is my lord's pleasure tonight?"

Jherik hooked his claws into the fabric of Mishel's shorts and pulled them down to the ground. As he straightened, he ran his paw along the thick bulge of leg muscle until he met the soft round sac. Cupping it, he moved his paw gently back and up, rubbing a finger under Mishel's tail until he felt the opening there.

Mishel smiled. "I see." He touched his nose to Jherik's and lifted at his shirt. "If I may...?"

Jherik nodded, moving his arms so Mishel could remove his shirt. He returned his paw to the coyote's rear, teasing his sheath with the other while the coyote's paws worked at his pants, pulling them down. Upon seeing Jherik's erection, the long muzzle stretched into a smile. "Oh. My lord is ready already..."

Trying to tease the coyote out of his sheath suddenly because much easier. Jherik felt the sheath push against his paw and saw the tip of the pink length a moment later, moving quickly out. As he did, Mishel stepped around to one side, letting Jherik's paw stay on him as he leaned over to bathe the cougar's long member with his tongue. Jherik shuddered at the soft touch and stroked harder with his paw, pausing only to take his shirt off.

Being naked against the tree was not a new sensation; he and his brother had sometimes slept nude out in the grounds when they wanted to be outside and the weather was nice. But in this context, it was somehow more daring, more dangerous. He wasn't sure whether he liked it or not.

He definitely liked the coyote, though, and the warm tongue sliding up and down as well as the teeth just grazing the skin of his taut member sent shivers through him, driving other thoughts and worries from his mind. Settling back against the tree, he let the throaty growl that was building in his chest move into his throat as a purr. His fingers stayed active between Mishel's legs, brushing his dangling sac back and forth, and rubbing under his tail as well as up his growing sheath, because the coyote rumbled in pleasure whenever he did either of those things.

Mishel looked up at him with a grin. "I think my lord is ready," he said, drawing a finger up Jherik's dripping erection. "And I nearly am as well." He slathered a paw with his saliva and gently pushed Jherik's paw out from under his tail, rubbing there himself with his eyes closed in pleasure.

Jherik focused on the coyote's length, brushing the pad and back of his paw alternately up and down it. A moment later, Mishel opened his eyes and smiled into Jherik's. He swung one leg over the cougar's lap, and adjusted himself until Jherik was positioned just against his tail hole. Jherik put his paws on Mishel's thighs, trying to hold him like the bear in the book, but Mishel was far too heavy and the angle too awkward. He settled for holding the coyote's sheath in his paw as Mishel lowered himself and the tightness of him pressed against, then around Jherik.

"Ahhh..." he panted, looking down at Jherik. His blissful expression mirrored Jherik's feelings exactly. The cougar wanted to press the coyote down, to plunge deep into him and feel him all along his length. He started to stroke Mishel up and down quickly in his excitement. Mishel responded by lowering himself further, with a deep moan of pleasure. Jherik could see the tautness in the muscles rippling down the coyote's naked body as he raised and lowered himself, each stroke a blaze of delight radiating out from his sheath to his chest and paws.

He explored each inch of Mishel's length, and felt a small knot growing larger as the coyote became more aroused. The more he stroked, the more Mishel moaned and the faster he raised and lowered himself on Jherik's shaft. Jherik was surprised at how easily he slid in and out; he'd never penetrated another before, and he had worried it might be more difficult. But it was marvelous, especially when he arched his hips to drive himself further into the gorgeous creature on his lap.

Mishel was beautiful, and he knew it. He showed off the creamy white fur and perfect arc of his chest with every movement, held his arms behind his head to accentuate their muscles, flexed his legs while showing off his balance, and arched his tail behind him, swinging it from side to side so Jherik could see it. Jherik wanted to rub his paws all over the coyote, but the urgency of the moment kept one paw on the perfectly formed shaft, stroking it up and down, and while the other roamed erratically over the ivory landscape in front of him.

He heard the clang of the bell announcing bed check, and though Mishel didn't say anything, he started to lift and lower himself more quickly, and Jherik felt his erection squeezed by the coyote's rear. He thrust upwards, moaning, his whole body alight, and noticed that the knot beneath his wildly stroking paw was very large now. A moment later, Mishel growled, arched his back so that all his muscles stood out, and his seed spurted out over Jherik's paw and stomach. He kept growling, head thrown back, eyes closed, and his member covered Jherik's paw in his seed.

Jherik felt himself on the edge, and a moment later he felt as though he were falling over the edge for an eternity. Then he hit bottom and clutched at Mishel's legs as his moans echoed off the trees, and his member emptied itself into the willing coyote.

For a moment he felt truly joined to Mishel, holding him as their bodies shared that pleasure. The moment faded, then ended as Mishel stood slowly up, shivering as Jherik slid out of him.

"My lord..."

"I know," Jherik smiled. "Bed check." He brushed Mishel's still-rigid member with a sticky paw.

Mishel bowed, pulling on his shorts and shirt. "Tomorrow night?"

"I'll see you here, then."

Jherik watched the coyote walk back to the barracks until he was just a shadow against the dark building. He sighed, not wanting to put his clothes on just yet. His sticky paw rested on the sticky fur of his abdomen, and he chuckled. He would definitely have to use the baths tonight.

By the time he pushed on the door of the practice room about an hour later, he was quite clean. Benton was exercising; he turned and said "Hello, sir" as Jherik entered the room, then went back to his practice.

Jherik walked over to the weapons rack and took down two wooden swords. "I was thinking. You do plenty of exercise during the day. If you feel up to it, it would be more useful for you to practice against an opponent."

"Really?" Benton lowered the sword he was holding. "I don't know if...I mean..." His ears canted uncertainly.

Jherik held out one of the swords to him. "You'll do fine. I promise I'll go easy."

Benton walked back to the rack and replaced the sword he'd been using, then took the wooden one. "What do I do?"

"Just try to hit me." Jherik smiled.

For about fifteen minutes, he turned away Benton's tentative attacks with ease. He could sense the fox getting frustrated, so he held up a paw. "You need to be more assertive. Don't worry. You can't hurt me with these. What you need to be aware of is what I'm going to do in response to you." He assumed the ready stance again and guided Benton through some attacks.

The fox obviously learned faster than he could execute. He hissed in displeasure at himself when his body failed to obey him quickly enough. Jherik empathized, but knew the only way to improve that was to train until the movements became second nature, and he told Benton that.

"I don't feel like I'll ever learn it," the fox said dispiritedly while they were taking a break.

"You will." Jherik's paw fit around Benton's shoulder nicely, but he couldn't help contrasting its boniness to the muscles on Mishel's shoulder. "You've only been training a couple days. Give it time."

"I suppose so." Benton sighed. He tapped the edge of the sword on the ground. "I'm starting so late, though. Most of the other recruits at my level are thirteen and fourteen. I feel old."

Jherik had to laugh, and Benton gave him a flop-eared scowl before chuckling himself. "I guess it is pretty silly."

"Yeah. If you're old, what does that make me?"

"Wonderful."

Jherik blinked at the fox, who'd laid his ears back. "For taking the time to teach me, I mean. Most instructors wouldn't bother beyond just letting me find my own way. I really appreciate it, sir."

"Oh, that's okay." But the words warmed him inside. His tail curled behind him, and despite the late hour, he didn't feel tired. "Shall we go on?"

"Sure." Benton smiled.

When the fox was clearly too tired to go on and Jherik felt himself flagging, he called an end to it. Benton was panting, but his ears were up and he looked happy with the progress he'd made. He put both practice swords away.

"Thank you again, sir," he whispered as they walked down the corridor.

"My pleasure, Benton." Jherik patted the fox on the back. "Good night."

It was nearly one in the morning. The quarter moon shone on Jherik's path as he made his way back to his bed in the manor. His life had suddenly become full, and even the prospect of starting his day in his father's office couldn't dull his suddenly high spirits. His tail twitched excitedly all the way to bed.**