FSE

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"Mom, I need new shoes."

Well. The young wolf didn't really need new shoes, but he had convinced himself it was a near-necessity, like... oh, like wearing a shirt to school. His were stinky, old, and beaten-up to the point where he'd had to duct-tape the inner soles back in twice - after all, he'd had them since he first entered high school, and now that he was about to leave, he felt it was past time to get a new pair.

His mother, a pleasant woman with a fairly easygoing outlook, obliged and took him to the shoe store that weekend, on the condition that "you have a job; if they're that important, you can pay for half", but the young wolf - Crisp, his name was - knew that she'd end up not letting him pay his part and instead take on the whole price herself, being a mother.

These places always had that characteristic shoe-store smell, present even as he just started to tug the door open after arriving there. This place had adopted a grungy urban look with walls, ceiling, and floor all various shades and patterns of grey and dark blue, ceiling quite far from that floor with steel pillars connecting them that had to serve as more than just decoration, tall shelves against the walls and shorter ones out on the floor... were those just a few inches taller so Crisp could not see over them and to the opposite side of the store, he'd feel like this place would seem a lot larger than truth, as when he was a pup.

For him there were always good memories in shoe stores, even though he really rarely ever entered one. Never had he been in the same store twice, due to the errant personalities of sales that caught the attention of his parents as well as his constantly growing foot size. There was just something about the scent of leather and fabric and rubber, heavy and saturated, like that of a balm used to relieve the pain of burns and scrapes - and the atmosphere, too, the quiet conversations, the calm unburdened footsteps, the pleasant smiles from strangers. When he was little, he and his brother would run around between the shelves and play hide-and-seek while their parents found shoes for them, the game perfect for their age because they couldn't see over the tops of those shelves and the whole place felt like a large maze.

The memories, few in number and vague anyway, came and went as soon as he felt the resistance of the thick carpet on the bottoms of his current pair of shoes. "Do you know what you're looking for?" his mother asked; "Yeah, yeah," was his reply, even though he truly had no clue. Part of the fun of shopping was wandering around and seeing all of the possibilities, and with shoe stores, there always was a lot of those.

Of course there's the trash that has to be weeded through, too, all of the interminable almost-clones of one another with just one different facet, like slightly longer laces, or a slightly different tint of white or grey, or another pair of holes for the laces to go through, or this pair comes up half a centimeter higher than that pair, or this company produces all of theirs with "as low as 0% child labor!" while that company doesn't specify... all of the expensive, original pairs that turn out to be vastly popular, and all of the cheap - in terms of both price and quality - knock-offs of those from brands that nobody has ever heard about before.

Some of the designs he remembered fawning over when he was little, either because he enjoyed them for whatever reason or maybe because all of his friends had them... God, the embarrassment. Sometimes he had times in his elementary years that turned out like an episode of some cartoon, where he goes to such lengths of begging to get the right pair of shoes, and then shows up to school the next morning all excited and jazzed about his surely incoming popularity and coolness, only to find that the hive mind had shifted its focus and now enjoys a slightly different type of shoe. Now, he actually preferred more simplistic designs or even solid colors, the sort of shoe that nobody paid much mind to but still could look good with most outfits. He had one friend who went for that goth look, with all-black clothing embellished with scarlet, with hanging metal buckles and chains and spikes, and stygian combat boots or something; another of his friends enjoyed the 'dirty hippie chic' style of earth-toned clothing and open sandals, a special kind that that friend called 'Jesus walkers'; one liked the 'modern hipster' fashion of slacks (with rolled-up legs), either a button-up shirt or a v-neck, a thin hoodie, naturally-sourced laced shoes of woven hemp fiber or something.

It wasn't his friends' opinions that he considered the most when making his decision - no, it was that of everyone else at school. There was the false fashion police who still thought it was funny to openly make fun of someone for their choice of dress - one time he had worn a shirt that had a logo for a beef jerky company on the front, and they'd yelled out, obviously trying to get the attention of everyone in the immediate vicinity of seven miles, 'wow, are you a cowboy or something?' (or it could have been something else similarly unfunny, he didn't exactly remember - and then there was the true fashion police who silently judged you and changed the way they treated you based on your everyday dress and past infractions of fashion (past infashions, ha ha ha). "Just don't worry about them," his mother had said to him; his father's words, however, were something along the lines of "I don't know why you care about fashion when it seems what's 'in' for girls your age these days is Rustic Slut". Inspiring words, really, but the glares still hurt.

After picking up what seemed like his tenth pair, just for the sake of picking something up and considering it, he saw, glimmering on a display at the top of the next shelf like a holy relic or some shit like that, a pair of high-tops that he'd seen advertised on TV the previous weekend and that he'd wished for even knowing the unlikelihood of such an encounter. But, well, here they were, bright cherry-red with pristine white laces, taunting him. Damn, those would look good with anything.

They had them in his size, too - just one pair left! Crisp slid the box off of the shelf and sat down with it, already kicking off his other shoe; it took a moment to put one on, but damn, did he like the way it looked. He looked around for his mom and, having glanced over her the first few times and only now seeing her just further down this row, called out - "Mom! What about these?"

"Ooh, those are nice," she said on her way over. Crisp started to undo the laces. "I think I saw a pair of those in every movie that came out in 1986. How much are they?"

He hadn't checked that... while fitting it back into the box, Crisp looked up at the tag. "...Oh."

"Oh? What? Let me see." She leaned over. "...Oh. Yeah. Sorry dear, I'm not willing to pay even half of that."

"But - Mom-"

"Look, over here, there's..." She picked up one pair of shoes nearby, grunted, put it down, picked up another. "Here's a pair that doesn't look too bad. And - oh, look at that - a third of the price of those, too. And there's these over here, too..."

The pair she handed him were a sort of greyish-brown, like wet concrete, and just by holding them he could tell their quality. This was one of the companies that didn't specify how much of their work was child labor. "Mom..."

"Oh, hey, these ones are... a nice shade of, uh... storm...cloud?... No, I'd say they're more 'old pea soup'..."

"I'm not a peasant!"

"Neither of our jobs pay enough to warrant that kind of price for shoes, Crisp. Pick one, please, and we can go and get something to eat."

Fine, he wanted to say. The first pair she had handed him would have to do, even though they looked like his current pair (and in their current state) had been dipped into a bucket of wet sand and then left to dry. "These. Can we go to McDonald's?"

"We had McDonald's yesterday, hon."

"What about Burger King?"

"...Okay, fine. Here, I'll pay for those..."

~ ~ ~

The shoes really weren't too bad, other than how they smelled like old tires and dirt, how they came up above his socks and made his ankles itch, how they didn't actually come with shoe laces - that was just on the display pair; he had to pull the laces off of his old pair after he'd gotten home. So, yeah, they were fairly... less-than-adequate. He took them off as soon as he had first put them on upon getting home, not even bothering to undo the laces. They sat next to his bed for the night.

It was an uneasy night, too, plagued by an inability to find a comfortable position, and then bad dreams when he did manage to get to sleep. His brother had once worn bright pink shoes to school as part of a dare, but that was okay, because it was clear that he didn't care about his clothing; Crisp, however... the way it goes in high school, whenever someone sees that you really care about something, they'll latch on to that care as their target. In his dreams that night, people around school that he'd never seen before were snickering behind their books or watching him walk by, occasionally casting judgmental eyes down at his feet; his friends muttered a gentle "whoa" and took a step back whenever they saw him approaching.

"Hey Crisp," his gym teacher said in the dream, "you're supposed to wear actual shoes to this class, not wads of mud that just look like shoes..." They came off when he was running, and he could feel the mocking looks and glares from the other students as they went around him.

The worst one hung in his mind even after his alarm buzzed him awake the next morning: "Hey, I didn't know he was poor-"

Those very shoes waited at the edge of his bed when he awoke the next morning, causing him to trip on them and stumble forward towards the wall. Not even at school yet, and his day was already off to a bad start... he felt that when he gets there he'd find out that he left his homework at home, or there was a project due today that he didn't know about, or some other unfortunate occurrence. He double-checked the things he had in his backpack before settling down to find something to eat, then checked a third time before going out to the bus stop... and then halfway to the school realized that he'd left his pen at home.

Still the shoes itched, even on the bus ride; the friend he usually sat next to wasn't there, so he had to take the seat next to another wolf who looked like he was mentally elsewhere. However, after a while, this other wolf scooted over a little with a growled "what, do you have fleas or something?" and a glare at Crisp. He settled down and tried to ignore the itching.

First period for him was gym, something that felt like both a blessing that he could get it over with early in the day and a curse because he had to deal with it early in the day; an excellent way to wake up, a horrible thing to have to do when tired. Not only that, but what happened in last night's dream still worried him, too, even though he knew it was just a dream and tried to tell himself that - he'd dreamt of sucking off certain guys plenty of times before, but that had never happened!

He had to push those thoughts away upon reaching the gym, though, as it was a required part of the class to go dress out for it. In the locker room were guys of all sorts, and it was actually here where the least amount of insults and ridicule went around: slinky mustelids, thick bears and bulls, sleek wolves and cats. There were sheaths, cocks both cut and uncut, internal genitalia... sometimes he got lost in watching, and the only thing to bring him back to the present would be a confused look, or someone bumping against him, or a shouted word or two in his direction... but this time, he just wanted to get the class over with, so he got into his gym clothing and headed back out.

Today's class proved to be actually fairly easy, with just a few laps around the track and then a choice between dodgeball and basketball. Crisp floated between the two, feeling that his crap shoes were suited to neither sport, and eventually just sat down on a bench to watch the other students jump around and yell at each other and curse and try to find ways to tilt the game in their own direction. Sure, it was good fun watching the boys bounce around and pick out which had chosen not to wear underwear today, based on the definition of outlines and such in their gym shorts, but - after a little longer, the gym coach called out on the bullhorn, "Class is almost over; go get dressed".

Crisp took his time in heading back to the locker room; he'd avoided ridicule (of the open, verbal sort, at least) this far, and figured that was just because nobody had paid enough attention to him. When he did finally go in, some of the guys were showering - who knew why, as this had been probably one of the least strenuous class periods, and the time given between class periods was amazingly short - and the locker room was fairly unpopulated, so he could dress in peace. By the time he had gotten off his gym clothing and stood there in his underwear, the rest of the guys had left, except for one or two in the shower; he leaned over to open his locker...

...and saw there, on the other bench, yesterday's pristine cherry-red shoes, shiny like freshly waxed tile flooring. Crisp instantly forgot what he was doing, unable to take his eyes away - so beautiful, alluring like a new video game that he'd been anticipating for months. There was... nobody else here, right? Except for that one guy in the shower, but - just trying them on, to feel them again, for a quick moment wouldn't hurt him... so Crisp kicked off his own shoes and stepped over, trying to keep his footsteps quiet, and stopped before the bench.

The smooth outside of the shoes was cool to the touch when he reached down and ran a fingerpad up the side. He had some money saved up from his job - maybe after another few weeks, he could go and get it himself... but, hey, there were here now, and without another thought, he moved them to the floor and slipped one foot in, and then the other. They felt exactly as they had in the store, and perhaps better - a more snug fit, cool, comfortable. The laces were of quality fabric and intricately woven, well enough so that he paused in tying the shoes just to rub his fingers over them, to feel the odd little shiver that a good pair of shoes always sent through him... there was just something about the feel of good material on his feet...

He didn't even notice the shower turn off while he was lacing up the second, and only realized he was being watched when a timid "Uh... hey..." came from behind him. Startled, he turned, and blushed bright red at seeing a wet naked fox pointing towards him; the fox's eyebrows raised when he turned, and he sputtered a little more.

"Shit - uh - sorry..." Crisp moved quickly to take the shoes off, but his shaky paws could do little against the knots in the laces. "I just... just w..."

"Wait, why are..." The fox tilted his head. "Are you... hard?"

Stunned, Crisp looked down... and then promptly throbbed against the tight fabric of his underwear, the bulge of his erection prominent and the underwear at the tip of his length a little moist with pre. He really liked shoes. "I-I... sorry, look, here are... your, uh... sorry-" he stammered, and then grabbed his stuff on his way out on fast feet. He tugged his pants on in the hallway leading back to the gym and only managed to get them buttoned with his sweaty fingers after exiting.

God damn it!... Here he was trying to avoid embarrassment, and then he went and got himself into probably the most embarrassing event of his high school years. What just happened there was the sort of thing that would stick in his memories - and probably those of that poor goddamn fox, too - until he died. It was times like this where Crisp wished he had a rewind option, or an undo button... God. Maybe he just wouldn't show up to gym anymore...

His own crap shoes remained untied until about halfway into his next class when he dropped his pencil and had to look down to get it... but, of course, seeing his shoes only brought back to his mind what had happened, so he lowered his face onto his desk and didn't move for another ten minutes or so. When called on to answer a question, he just uttered a noncommittal "nrrrmph" and waved his paw.

Luckily he had no classes with that fox, and also didn't see him again during that day. Sometimes high school is like that, where you see someone once and then never again - though, of course that's not true; it only feels like that when you don't know the person and don't recognize them. For Crisp, that fox's face was now engraved into his memory, that face and look of shock, confusion, disbelief... man, he'd have trouble sleeping tonight, both of them. Crisp had the whole embarrassment to deal with, but that fox - Crisp could see it now: he'd be lying in his bed tonight, looking up at the ceiling with eyes wide open, seeing nothing but the image in his mind of that one gay wolf in his gym class getting a boner from trying on his nice new shoes - without permission!

The thoughts bubbled around through his head whenever a class ended and spat him out into the hallway for passing period - he probably thinks I'm a creep, I don't even know that guy, I hope I don't see him again, aaaaaaah fuck - but, eventually, the day did draw to a close, and Crisp found himself walking to the back of the bus (but not too far back; that was where the delinquents sat and smoked every day, and they'd give him no end of shit if they'd found out what had happened). He wasn't even this embarrassed when his mom walked in on him - well, when he was enjoying some alone time...

On the ride home he went through what he could remember of what had happened each class, trying to determine what assignments he would have to do for homework and just how long that would distract his mind. Maybe he could put on a movie, or start playing a game, or read a book, or something... even though he knew that wouldn't really work. But, oh well. It wouldn't hurt.

As it turned out, trying to do other things were just made harder by the always-present memories, like a bad stomachache - and, also like a bad stomachache, it returned right when he realized it wasn't bothering him anymore. Later in the night after his mother had gotten home from work, she asked if he felt alright, to which he gave another noncommittal "nrrrmph", but did come down when she called that dinner was ready - a little soul-rending embarrassment couldn't even try to weaken his appetite for Mom's beef stew.

That thankfully took his mind off of current matters for part of the night, and he only rolled around in bed for about an hour before sleep finally managed to claim him. He felt the strain of not-enough-sleep on his body the next morning, but that was to be expected; this morning when he got to the bus, however, he realized that he had forgotten the book he needed for English, and silently cursed himself.

His school being on block schedule, Crisp thankfully didn't have gym this morning... but, his school being on block schedule, he had a handful more of classes that he could possibly share with that fox and just not know it yet. No sign of him in his first classes, but then lunch came, and brought with it a growling stomach too urgent to ignore...

...which put him in one of the several lunch lines in the school cafeteria, the only place where someone could find easily two-thirds of the school at this particular time in the day. However, that meant a lot of people; like a hundred rolls of a two-thousand-sided die, Crisp likely would not get the number he was looking for - or rather, the one he was trying to avoid. Possible, but unlikely.

But, then, as luck would have it...

Crisp seriously considered stepping out of the line when he noticed that he had stepped up right fucking behind the fox from earlier, not noticing at first due to seeing him from behind now. However, it was his profile view when he turned to look out at something closer to the center of the large cafeteria that tipped Crisp off, and he ducked his head and tried to tug his phone out of his pocket to make himself seem less noticeable.

...But, then, as luck would have it...

"Hey, wait a minute..."

Crisp coughed into his fist and stepped out of line. He didn't know where he'd go, but hell, it had to be somewhere other than here.

"Hey!"

He picked up his pace, unable to pick out the fox's footsteps behind him from among all the cacophony of everything else - but before he could get too far, a warm but firm paw closed on his shoulder.

"Wait! I'm not - mad, or anything-"

Surprisingly strong grip... Crisp couldn't get much further without tripping over his own feet even if he'd tried. This last thing said by the fox caught his attention, though, and he managed to skid to a halt before tipping over; other people in the hallway shot him vile glares for stopping so suddenly. "Wait - not... mad?"

"No, no! I mean - sure, yesterday I was little... a little startled, but..."

"Look," urged Crisp, trying to pull away unsuccessfully, "I don't really wanna talk about it-"

"Wait, please. I do."

"No-"

The fox grabbed his other shoulder and spun him around, bringing Crisp face-to-face with him. Cool olive-green eyes perused his face, truly showing no sign of anger; only curiosity. "I just wanna, like... ask you some stuff."

Crisp sighed. "I don't think..."

"Look, it won't be that bad, okay? Here..." The fox took him by the arm and started to lead him towards one of the outside doors. "We can talk outside. It won't be bad..."

At this school, the other students generally did not eat lunch outside for whatever reason, be that because of the weather, because of the inability to hear the bell signifying the end of lunch, or because of every teacher's and security guard's suspicion of any students found outside of the building during the day. Because of this, though, Crisp and the fox were alone, and the wolf found himself being led off a bit of a way from the door through which they had left. Try as he might to tell himself to call down and believe this fox's words, he also found that his heart beat no slower...

"Okay," the fox said, again turning to him. Only now did he let go of Crisp's arm. "Well, first, I think we should introduce ourselves... I'm Matt. I like swing music, and my favorite color is blue."

"...Oh." That was not at all what he was expecting. "I'm, uh... I'm Crisp." Then, he swallowed. "...Look, Matt, I'm - sorry for what happened yesterday, it's just..."

"Yeah, what was that about?" The other canine leaned back against the outer brick wall of the school, arms crossed in front of him. Normally such a pose would carry with it a hint of impatience, but again, Crisp could see none of this in his face, nor could he pick it up in the gentle scent he gave off. "I mean... I'm not judging you or anything. I know people have their different kinks and such. Is that one of yours?"

"What? Shoes?"

"Yeah, I guess so. If that's what your, uhm..." He coughed. "...your... y'know... came from."

Crisp shrugged, feeling a ghostly remnant of the electric shiver that those bright red shoes had sent through him. "Oh. Uh. Yeah. Yours - er, those red ones more than others... I saw them at the shoe store the other day, and I really wanted them, but Mom said no..."

"Because she saw what they did to you?"

Up until now, Crisp had been staring fixatedly on the inconsistencies of the cement sidewalk in front of him - but, at this, he turned to look at Matt. Again, there was no negative emotion of any sort on his face. "What? No. She just said they were too expensive."

"Oh. Hah. Yeah, Yeah, I got those from my uncle for my birthday..." Matt wasn't wearing the cherry-red shoes today; instead he had on a pair of simple white-and-black sneakers that seemed to go well with his soccer player's legs. Crisp had seen those legs, toe to hip and beyond, full well the day before.

"Oh? It was your birthday?"

"Yeah, day before yesterday." Matt's tail wagged against both the brick wall and Crisp's leg. It was an odd feeling, but neither of them put in the effort to move away. "Figured I'd try them out yesterday, but... I dunno, decided they weren't right for everyday wear."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen." He shrugged. "Well. I am now."

"Wow, young one."

"Yeah, I get that a lot... but, anyway." The fox stuffed his paws into his pockets, ears angled back a bit. "Yeah. No hard feelings- well. Don't worry about what happened yesterday, ah..."

"Crisp."

"Yeah. Crisp. Don't worry about it. I mean, you do you, right? Sure, next time I'd appreciate it if you ask first, but."

"Next time?"

Matt stood up off from the wall and gave Crisp a soft smile. "Oh, sure. You didn't think I just pulled you out here and took time out of both your day and mine, just to tell you once was okay? You're pretty cool, Crisp, pretty good to talk to. I was hoping we could be friends..."

Crisp looked him over. Sure, his heartbeat was still off from normal, but it wasn't too bad... "So I can get turned on from wearing those shoes?"

"Well, not if you don't give me your number so I can let you know when I'm free..." Matt held out his phone, already on the 'New Contact' screen. Crisp took it. "But, yeah, sure. People have done weirder things in my house. I mean, my first boyfriend-"

-boyfriend-

"-gave me a handjob, with the door open, while my parents were in just the next room. And it was my second one, last year, that got me to figure out my own weird little kink, in the backyard after school one day..."

After a moment, Crisp handed the phone back. Now his heart was beating quickly for a different reason. "And what would that be? If - if it's okay that I ask."

Matt just shrugged. "I like being pissed on."

Oh.

"Yeah, weird, I know... hey, anyway, thanks for coming out to talk with me, Crisp."

"I didn't have much of a choice..."

"I'll see you later, alright?" The fox gave him a trademark fox grin, bright and full. "In gym tomorrow, likely."

Crisp watched him as he went off for a while, but then took a step forward. "Wait!"

Matt turned back to him, paw on the doorhandle. "Mm?"

"Can we get lunch together? I'm... pretty hungry..."

~ ~ ~

And, just like that, like an ice cube put into the microwave for whatever reason, Crisp's worry just melted away. Thank God that Matt was the only person to see in gym that day - otherwise, he might still have chosen not to show up the next time. He received a text message from the fox later that night, a simple "Hey, it's Matt" followed by a smiley-face emoji, which led into a pleasant conversation between the two about... well, about various things that people should know about one another. Place of birth, interests, siblings, relationships, that sort of thing.

Crisp learned quite about this 'first boyfriend' of Matt's: turned out that guy had been a wolf, too, although was shadow-black all over as opposed to Crisp's white and grey, with blue eyes. This black wolf was a few years older than Matt ("He was a junior when I was a freshman"), and then "he first railed me over the side of my bed when I was fifteen". Matt then mentioned that the two were still friends, though they talked considerably less often than they used to - probably once a month or so now, and the conversations they do have usually turn sexual in nature. The fox's concluding statement on that was a simple "Yeah, fun guy", followed by "So how about you?"

So, Crisp told him. He told him about a select few of his past relationships (and got a heart-eyes emoji as a response when he revealed that his first was also a guy) and the things they had done together. Matt asked for details about one particular event, about the time when Crisp and his boyfriend at the time, a meerkat who played viola in the school orchestra, fucked in the bathroom during one of the orchestra concerts. Crisp remembered the event quite clearly, and as such gave the best recap that he could; it was another ten minutes before he got a text in response, and in that time, he'd figured out the reason behind the delay.

The next morning, he realized that he was actually looking forward to gym class, something that he wouldn't have believed just yesterday morning. No texts came from Matt before school, but when Crisp got there and dressed out into his gym clothes, he saw the fox walk out of the locker room shortly after, look around a little, then spot him and start coming over, a grin on his muzzle. He was the standard red fox with orange-dominated fur and dark brownish-black at his paws and feet, and with his grey shirt and slightly-darker-grey shorts, he looked like a rather attractive chunk of ash and fire spat out by a volcano.

He was noticeably less energetic than that, though. His greeting to Crisp consisted only of a wide "hello" amid a jaw-cracking yawn accompanied by a short wave, and then nothing more. On the schedule for gym that day turned out to be exactly the same as the previous day, so Crisp and the fox ran beside one another on the track (which Crisp enjoyed; Matt seemed to really be only half-away and therefore needed to walk more often, which allowed the wolf to slow his place when he originally wouldn't), then wandered back and forth between the games going on and deciding together which one to join. Dodgeball was being played in the big indoor gym, while the hoops for basketball were outside...

and, one time when the two were heading back inside, Matt tugged Crisp off to the side and around the corner of the outside wall of the gym, paw tight on his wrist and tail flicking behind him. Crisp wanted to say something but decided he shouldn't, based on the looks that the fox gave him on the way - and he was glad he didn't, because once they were out of sight of the others, Matt pinned his wrist up against the wall, did the same to his other wrist, and then stepped forward and pressed against him. Crisp could feel the heat of his body - well, a certain part of his body - through the loose fabric of his gym shorts, and also very easily felt his own heat as it grew.

"I was thinking..." purred the fox, green eyes glistening like dewy spring grass. "After our chat yesterday... would you maybe like to do something sometime?"

Crisp swallowed, and then shifted. Matt grunted at this unintentional rubbing against him. "I - um, I'm not really... wanting to be in a relationship right now..."

"Oh, yeah, that's fine." He took a step back, allowing Crisp a little more room to breathe - but then he decided it was just to regain his balance, as the fox soon after continued grinding against him. "Then my offer still stands, just with a little less... oomph: would you like to do something sometime? Or multiple sometimes?"

"Well..."

"I'd let you try on my shoes again. They're not the only nice pair I have, y'know. Well... I'll let you try them on again, if it's the same as last time - where you've only got your underwear on, and..." Here, he leaned in close to Crisp's ear. "...and I get to watch..."

The wolf closed his eyes, then, as sharp teeth came gently down on the sensitive skin of his ear; a shiver went up his back from both this and from a paw that had found its way under the waistband of his gym shorts. "S-sure..." he managed to get out, between a pair of fingers wrapping around his not-so-soft shaft.

With that, though, Matt stopped, straightened up, removed his paw, and grinned. "Alright, then," he said, as if nothing had happened, "I think I'm free both today and tomorrow, but the next day, that wolf ex of mine is coming over - although, really, I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you were there, too... eh, whatever. I'll text you after school. Anyway, I'll be in playing dodgeball, you coming?"

"...In a moment. I'll... I'll be there..."

"'Kay. Thanks for talking with me again!"

Crisp just leaned back against the brick wall, waiting for the bulge put on display by the gym shorts to... well, to become slightly less noticeable than it currently was. God - damn foxes...

For the rest of gym, Matt regarded him as if nothing had just happened between the two - until it was time to get dressed, that was, during which the fox came over and held a conversation at length with Crisp while totally nude. He knew that he couldn't take his eyes away from that one certain part of his body, and at one point in the conversation (which was rather one-sided), Crisp even forgot what he was doing and looked around for his shirt... which he had already put on.

As opposed to two days ago, Crisp had a much different thought occupying his mind for the duration of today, one that kept him wiggling in his seat or scrambling to cover a bright blush resulting from someone startling him in the midst of his thoughts. Sure, it was a bit unusual for one guy to captivate him so thoroughly and easily - he'd had pickups at school before, none of which affected him like this - so there just had to be something about Matt, something in his green eyes, in his confident voice and demeanor, in the way he teased with a soft paw and a gentle bite...

If he'd had another class with him today, Crisp very quickly would have dragged Matt off into the bathroom and taken care of their business there. It wasn't like it was something he hadn't done before once or twice - if the fox felt confident enough to feel him up beside the gym, the wolf felt confident enough to bend him over the toilet... or to have himself bent over the toilet; whichever came first.

And when Matt said 'I'll text you after school', he certainly meant after school. Crisp felt his phone vibrate just after he'd settled into his seat on the bus, but waited for the vehicle to get in motion before fishing it out of his pocket. Already he could feel the creeping nervousness, but he tried to push that way and turned on the screen:

"So, you open today?"

Sometimes things just seemed to line up perfectly. Today his mother told him that she was going to meet with a friend after work, and thus be home later than usual. "Yeah."

"Cool. :)" Then, a moment later: "Your place or mine? Either one works for me."

"Well, I just got on the bus for home..."

"Oh! If I'd known, I would've given you a ride! (Get it?)" Crisp had to smile at that - smile and again adjust his pants. "But, yeah, cool, I can be over in a little. If that's okay, of course."

He sent the response before he had another chance to think about it and let his nerves take over: "Of course. I look forward to it! Here's my address:..."

~ ~ ~

Crisp shuffled around his house doing various things to keep his mind and paws occupied while he waited, unsure if his slight shakiness came as a result of nervousness or excitement. Maybe three minutes after he'd walked in through the front door, Matt sent him an "On the way" text, which just set his heart to beating quickly all over again; maybe five more minutes had passed from that, and he still moved around, trying to distract himself but unable to move on from thoughts of what, exactly, would go on once he arrived.

He wasn't kept waiting for long, though, thank God. At about the third time he walked from one side of the living room to the other, he heard three sharp knocks on the front door, startling him somewhat. He swallowed, flattened down his headfur, took in a breath and let it out, and stepped towards the door. Bright green eyes waited for him when he opened it, followed by a just-as-bright grin and an unexpected hug, even though Matt carried a large plastic bag in one paw. He smelled vaguely of crushed pepper.

"I told my mom we have a project to work on together," the fox said, after pulling out of the hug and dropping the bag by the door. Still he wore that smile. "Which I guess is sorta true."

Crisp closed the door behind him. "Project? What project?"

"Oh, you know." He was planning to head to his room, but fox paws placed firmly on his hips stopped him. "The standard deduction project. Figure out what goes where..." He brought his fingers up under Crisp's shirt, claws tracing up through the fur. "...or, well, what fits where, and what we can do to make that an easier fit... it's a science experiment: figure out which actions get what kind of response out of..." Here he pressed forward against Crisp's back and set his teeth into the fur of his neck for a quick moment. "...of a certain wolf..."

Then, he straightened back up suddenly and headed over towards the door. "But, anyway, I have something for you, man."

Crisp had to shake off the residual chills that seemed to always come as a result of that damn fox's touch. "Huh? What?"

"Yeah..." There was the rustling of plastic. "Well, see, usually - now, I know I shouldn't, but - usually I ask, like, two people for the same thing for birthdays and Christmas or whatever, just in case one can't get it, right?"

From the bag he took a fairly large box, one that he had to hold with one paw on either side. Crisp eyed it suspiciously. "Yeah...?"

"So, well... that makes it a bit complicated when they both manage to get it. And that's what happened here. Close your eyes."

"What?"

"C'mon, it'll be fun."

So Crisp did; immediately following was the noises of the box being opened, then what sounded like tissue paper rustling... and then he felt a smooth, cold presence against the front of his muzzle, something that smelled like - like -

• like a new shoe, fresh out of the box.

He started to open his eyes, but stumbled back and almost lost his balance when Matt swept the shoe away behind his back. "No, no - bad dog - did I say you could look?-"

"Matt..."

"Oh, fine." He grinned, and went to get the other out of the box. "But, yeah, my ex always said, 'don't ask multiple people for the same gift, if the second gets you it, that makes the first feel like trash, blah blah blah-' but hey, neither one seemed to mind here. It was my uncle on my mom's side that got me them first, and then my uncle on my dad's side, and - when they both learned, the first was like 'he asked me to get them!' and then the other said 'he asked me, too!' and then they were like 'aaaaah!' and hugged, and went to get drunk or something, I don't know. Point of the story is, I have an extra pair, and since I saw how you like them so much, I just figured - hey, why not, right? So, here."

Was this a dream?- It almost seemed that way, then, as Matt held up another pair of the cherry-red shoes, certainly the same ones that what the wolf had seen in the store, certainly the same ones that he had seen on the bench in the locker room. And, here they were in front him, being offered - for free - as a gift - from a fox he'd just met recently (and who had already nipped his ear and neck and stuck a paw into his pants).

"R...really?"

"Yeah! I don't have a use for them, and besides - seems you'll get more enjoyment out of them than I ever will."

The cool rubber and fabric felt perfect in Crisp's paws, and yet all he could do for a moment was look and feel. "Wow - thanks, a whole bunch..."

"Yeah, no problem." Matt went over by the door to kick off his own shoes, but shortly returned. "Want me to help you put them on?"

"I... what?"

"Yeah?" Before he could complain, Matt was back, kneeling in front of him with one of the shoes in one paw. His muzzle was precariously close to the front of Crisp's pants. "This a good view for you?"

"I... don't..."

"Yeah, whatever."

Having someone undo the laces of his shoes, feeling their fingers work in against the side of his foot... that was something he hadn't felt in a long time, not since he was a pup, and now it carried a much different meaning. Perhaps it was just that the fox's fingers tickled, or he moved his claws through in the right way, but Crisp found himself shivering yet again, even before he had managed to pull on the first red shoe. That brought with it some semblance of the tingling, focused where the pads of his fingers met his flesh, but it wasn't the same as what he'd felt in the locker room until he felt the laces of the other one tighten on his other foot, too... he'd look, but his eyes had drifted shut again, and he held one paw out on the back of Matt's head. It only felt natural.

Though, had he the ability to think about it, he might have realized that that was probably what the fox wanted; when he had finished putting the shoes on Crisp, he looked up at one place in particular, and smiled at what he saw. "Interesting..." he mused, and then his fingers moved their focus to somewhere else, to the button and zipper of the wolf's pants - and Crisp didn't even notice until those pants rested loose around his ankles.

"What are you-"

"You know exactly what I'm doing." Matt put the pad of a finger to the end of the bulge in Crisp's underwear, right at the spot where his pre oozed its way through the fabric just as it had done in the locker room. "This is nice..." he purred. "So the shoes really do this to you?"

Crisp swallowed and tried not to twitch or throb or anything, but Matt started to trace that finger around in little circles, and he couldn't resist. "Well - both that, and now you're right there - hey, don't..."

Matt brought his muzzle up along the underside of Crisp's length through his underwear, eyes closed, breathing in his scent. The side of his face was cool against the warmth of the wolf's erection. "Don't what? You seem to be enjoying yourself." He moved back, set his lips against his underwear at the end of his cock, cast green eyes up to Crisp's face. "If this is anything to go by, at least."

Every fox came with some amount of teasing blood in them, it seemed. Crisp put a paw out against the arm of the couch behind him for balance and had to swallow a tense grunt; now Matt held the bulge of the wolf's sack in one paw while he teased at the waistband of the underwear with the other, fingers hooked around it and tugging at the elastic without actually pulling it down. He kept his nose moving up and down along the outline of his shaft, still twitching and still leaking, even more so now with the fox's attentions.

"Well?"

Crisp could feel the fox's hot exhalations through his underwear.

"Is there something you want from me?"

Honestly, now, he couldn't tell if it was his shoes that kept this tingling feeling in his body (and his cock up) or Matt, but... well, that didn't really matter too much. He swallowed and bit his lip to keep from making another noise. "I'm not the one with his face stuffed into someone's crotch," he managed.

"Okay, yeah..." Matt brought his paws up to the wolf's sides, where he finally started tugging the revealing underwear down. He intentionally did nothing to ease their movement, though, and lifted his eyebrows at the new little drop of pre that dripped through the fabric. "Well, how about this-"

-and he hooked one arm around Crisp's leg and lifted it off the floor, using the wolf's sudden lack of balance to push him back down over the arm of the couch. His head hit a pillow with a soft poof, and looked up to see Matt fiddling with getting the loose pants off of his raised legs without also pulling off the shoes; it took him a moment but he succeeded, and with his other paw, he quickly worked at the fastenings of his own pants.

"Whoa, whoa," said Crisp, watching the fox as he slid his pants and underwear both down at the same time, bringing into view his own hard length. Matt then brought a paw to his muzzle and spat into it. "Are you-"

"Do you not want to?" He maintained eye contact after moving that paw back down to slicken himself up. Crisp could hear the wet sounds of a moving paw... before waiting for an answer, Matt leaned forward and rubbed the end of his shaft against Crisp's tailhole.

God, he was positively leaking by now. If Matt had pushed into him already, he had no doubt that there's be a fairly large puddle of pre in his bellyfur, right below where his own cock throbbed in the open air. He swallowed. "I... uh..."

But before he could form a good response, Matt leaned over him and started to press into him, his saliva providing a rough but usable lubrication. Crisp's whole body tensed up, and he sucked in a breath. "Yes?" purred the fox, leaning over so that his muzzle hovered above Crisp's; the wolf opened his eyes after a moment to see glittering green gems not a foot above him. "You what?"

Matt likely knew that he wouldn't be getting a coherent answer to that. As he sank deeper into the wolf, he kept his balance with one paw on one of those bright red shoes and his other on the arm of the couch; at this angle, he drove him down onto himself somewhat, due to him being flipped over on his back in an odd position. Crisp always appreciated a guy firm in his loving - but maybe if this fox wasn't so unexpectedly thick, he'd appreciate it more... he had to grit his teeth together against the discomfort, and opened his eyes once to see a certain look on Matt's face, one that clearly said are you okay? In response, he swallowed, shifted, and wiggled closer to him.

Eventually he felt the warmth of Matt's sack resting against the underside of his tail; the fox paused here for a moment to catch his breath and adjust his position, still watching his partner's face for any sign that he should stop or slow down. On finding none, though, he breathed a soft laugh and then started to pull back, only to sink back in at the end of this movement, and started to move in a slow rhythm that made Crisp lurch back and forth on the couch.

When Matt straightened back up for better leverage, Crisp couldn't decide whether he should look at him or at the shoes that he'd given to him - because, quite honestly, he couldn't really tell which turned him on more. Odd thing to say, but that's how it was, and Matt knew that too. As he started to fuck him faster and faster, the fox pushed one of Crisp's legs down so that that shoe came closer to his muzzle, just close enough so he could get a little taste of its cool aroma, mostly the same as the shoe store itself but just different enough to capture his attention. And, on top of that - on top of him - was the spice of fox, the faint scent of canid and cock... Crisp wouldn't have minded going down on Matt first, instead of him just using his own saliva...

Sensible thoughts started to evade him, then, as Matt got to the speed and fervency that he expected when being railed. Crisp pressed his head back into the pillow under him and let his mouth hang open, allowing the gasps and breaths to come and go as they did, especially when a paw closed around his cock and started stroking in rhythm. In this position he could do little more than dig his claws into the cushions beneath him and lift his rump upwards, something that Matt seemed to enjoy based on the shiver it sent through him and how it renewed his energy in his thrusts; again he leaned over Crisp, still pushing into him, still stroking him, and - to the wolf's surprise, for whatever reason - met his lips in a full kiss.

Matt held him there, bracing himself with one paw on the cushion next to Crisp and the other gripping his thigh as he fucked him, moving faster and faster until the noises of him slamming into the wolf could be heard over their grunts and gasps of breath amid the kiss. Crisp still wore his underwear, though with the fox bent over him and his own legs raised up, he had no doubt that they were now a bit stretched out - and soaked through at one place from where he'd leaked. Now, Matt was getting close - he could tell; Crisp had had to hold himself back for a while, had to grit his teeth against the cock pounding into him and the paw running up and down his length, respectively slickened by saliva and his own pre-

But waiting wasn't Matt's intention. He kept on going, faster and harder, until at one point, he pressed into Crisp as deep as he could, sucked in a gasp, and started to unload into him, shifting his hips against the wolf's rump with each spurt of cum. Crisp could feel each throb, and Matt's still-moving paw pushed him over the edge as well; he bucked upward into the air and shot his own load out over his chest and muzzle, and then lay back on the cushion panting, tongue hanging out of his mouth. He'd have to turn on a fan later - he could smell the heavy scent of cum and arousal now...

Matt, also panting, licked his lips. "So," he breathed, "you like those shoes?"

Crisp had to take a moment to gather his thoughts and work up the strength to speak. Matt still remained deep in him and oozed out the last of his cum. "They still need some breaking in..."