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The roar of the crowd was deafening, the air vibrating with caged, heated energy. It rattled the rafters. Raised the roof. And the game hadn't even started yet!

The atmosphere was almost enough to make one forget it was the deep, dark doldrums of February.

(Winter had dragged on for how long, now?)

Outside, snow and ice. A hallmark of the far north.

Inside?

Also ice!

Hype music played while spotlights arced and strobed, two teams of uniformed, padded players (having just been introduced) skating to their starting positions.

A distinguished Svalbard reindeer with quite the rack smiled into a camera and exclaimed (in Norwegian), “Welcome to the Bell Centre in Montreal, Canada, the world's second-largest hockey arena, and live coverage of the Four Nations Face Off on TV 2 Sportskanalen! Tonight, we open the 'round robin' stage with a matchup of Norway versus the United States."

The broadcast was being beamed back home to Europe, where it was currently midnight.

Sitting next to the reindeer, Astrid, a petite, curvy 'caramel-and-cream' lop bunny, microphone securely clipped to her shirt, looked up to say, “This is obviously not the final match, Emil, but it almost feels like it!"

Canada and Sweden had played earlier, with Canada notching the win. Many of their fans had remained to root against the United States (their rival and tougher opponent for the championship).

After all teams had played each other once, the two with the best records (or, if tied, goal differential) would meet for the championship in Boston next week.

“In fact," the rabbit announced, “we have already had booing during the American anthem."

“A source of controversy!"

“Yes, but they deserve it?" Astrid said bluntly. Even though she was in an open relationship with an American (an Olympic-winning athlete, a brash river otter named Kyler), she was glad not to be one herself! Especially right now.

Emil just chuckled, not wanting to get too deep into the political weeds. The reindeer changed the subject. “I would say this is the most electrifying hockey atmosphere I've seen since the 2022 Winter Games! Finland won the gold that year, but they are not participating in this event, and Norway was offered their spot." The reindeer looked to the lop. “The Winter Games will return next year, and you'll be there, won't you, Astrid? For Sportskanalen?"

“Yes, Emil, that is the plan. It will be quite exciting. I'm expecting good things. As you know, Norway is the all-time leader in gold medals, and we won't be caught anytime soon!"

Astrid had many roles at the network.

Her primary job was as a pit reporter for their globe-hopping 'Formula One' racing coverage.

A Norwegian Arctic fox, Leif, naturally got most of the network's attention. (And his more successful Australian teammate, a charismatic wallaby named Warwick, got hers.)

But with auto racing only spanning March to November, she was assigned to 'winter sports' in the off-season. Olympic events, skiing, international hockey tournaments (like this one).

The reindeer raised his voice as the players got into 'game' positions, sticks tapping the ice. “Enough buildup! Let's get the action going, shall we!"

The camera switched to a 'helmet cam' view as a ref dropped the puck at center ice.

The clock began to tick.

The game had begun!

Slap!

Crack!

Whack!

Sticks violently met like wooden swords.

The feed shifted back to an overhead view.

Not even ten seconds later, gloves were already coming off.

Astrid sensed what was coming. “Oh, my … "

A Norwegian badger 'put up his dukes' and began circling a snarling American wolverine. Yapping and growling at each other, they ducked and swerved on their skates before rushing each other, throwing punches, and ultimately bear-hugging and tackling each other to the ice.

The refs just stood and watched while the crowd cheered wildly, like they were at a boxing match.

“And right off the hop! A fight!" Emil exclaimed. “Wow, the claws are swiping! The tone is being set!"

“We haven't even gotten a half-minute into this game, and both teams are already going to be weakened," Astrid observed, contrasting Emil's hype with some pragmatism. “Where is the self-control? Penalties will come down."

“When we talked to Norway's coach before the game, he said they wanted to play like they were 'shot out of a canon.' Do you think this is what he had in mind?" the reindeer asked.

“I suspect not," Astrid said dryly. “The Americans must've said something to him to trigger the fight. It's not like Gunvald to start something like that. He may look burly, but in my interviews with him I would describe him as a 'gentle giant'."

“Well, he may not have started it, but he's intent on finishing it!"

The badger was still throwing punches.

Finally, the refs (all prey species) timidly drifted in and started tugging on the combatants' uniforms while blowing their whistles.

Coming apart, heaving for breath, the athletes pounded their chests and gestured to the crowd, both claiming victory.

“The crowd was already anxious to begin with," Emil said, “and I don't believe a single person in this facility is sitting down!"

“It has been exciting," Astrid agreed, “but it would be nice if we could play hockey at some point?"

The reindeer laughed again as the camera showed the badger and wolverine being 'escorted' to their respective penalty boxes. They would be restricted from gameplay for five minutes.

Once the brouhaha had died down, the match resumed.

The action was fast and furious!

Skates sliding, scratching, digging into the ice.

Click-clack!

Swish!

The little, black puck zipped back and forth, careening off the walls and circling back around to the middle of the rink, where it was slapped off a swinging stick in a long, errant pass.

Zzziiiip!

“Norway has it! Here's Bjorn to Tobias … "

Crunch!

SLAM!

Tobias (a pine marten) was pinned to the wall, the clear 'plastic' portion vibrating, the spectators behind it pumping their firsts and flagging their tails. Someone tossed their popcorn.

“ … ooh, and he's hit. Ouch!"

“The Americans timed that really well," Astrid said. “He'll be feeling that tomorrow."

“The puck knocked free … the Americans have it. Going back the other way. Long pass … and it's intercepted! Norway on the charge. Sven zips it to Ragnar. Back to Bjorn, who returns it to Ragnar."

“They're waffling. They need to be more decisive."

Ragnar, a scrappy brown rat, skated in circles before dumping the puck off to Sven, who flung it forward to no one.

“The puck rides the wall behind our net, left side to right … Norway recovers. They advance past center ice. On the charge again."

“All this time with the puck, Emil, and not one attempt on goal? We can't be afraid of missing. Need to get a feel for the attack, let them know how aggressive we are willing to be. Put them on defense."

“Our boys just heard you, Astrid, cause Sven delivers a heater to the net! Oh, but the American goalie with a deflection!"

The crowd 'ooh-ed' and 'ahh-ed.'

Sven, a beaver, lunged for a second chance, but the puck slipped by him.

An American player slid into view and whacked the puck away.

Slap, slap!

Crack!

The puck zipped around like a meteorite.

“Norway again recovers, and just as Gunvald is emerging from the penalty box!"

The crowd cheered, chanting the badger's name.

The badger, a wrecking ball on the ice, wasted no time slamming into opposing players, pinning them to the sides of the rink while going for the puck.

Somehow, no one lost their balance. They all stayed upright and skated on.

“The Americans emerge with the puck, send it ahead. An ambitious attempt on goal! Goes wide. A bit cocky, there. Norway with the puck, now. Charging back. Sven, one-pawed to Tobias, good movement … across to Grunwald. He thinks about taking a shot but dumps it off to Bjorn, trailing, who cuts between two defenders. A breakaway! 2-on-1! Bjorn. Ragnar. Great pass! Ragnar with a shot! It's in! Goal! Goaaallll! Norway scores and leads 1-0!"

A train-like horn blared in the arena.

Bwwwaaaaaaaa!

Lights strobed.

Bwwwaaaaaaaa!

The crowd jumped up and down.

“Wow," Astrid said, as the feed showed a slow-motion replay. “That shot went right between the goalie's legs." The American goalie was a polar bear, not lacking for bulk. “He tried to close them, but there was a three-inch gap … just exactly enough to sneak it through the pads. I don't think he was even expecting it! His eyes were on Bjorn the whole time. That pass was a masterclass. Right on point, and there was nothing the Americans could do to stop Ragnar once he got it."

“With how tense the start of this match has been, Astrid, how important was it for Norway to score first?"

“It is huge, Emil. And I feel like the crowd is on our side. I would say Norway is in a very good spot!"

The United States won.

Easily.

4 goals to 1.

After Norway's early lead, the Americans dominated the rest of the way.

Luckily, Astrid wasn't being paid for the accuracy of her predictions!

The next 'round' was in two days.

The Americans would play Canada (in primetime) with Norway meeting Sweden earlier in the evening. Given the 'round robin' format, it was a must-win for both Scandinavian sides. You couldn't lose two of three contests and advance.

Can you?

Math had never been her strong suit.

The network had given her the Swedish roster to scrutinize, and she'd given it some cursory glances.

A more detailed study would have to wait.

With no games scheduled tomorrow, the lop had time off.

She had never been to Montreal. What was there to do here? Alone? In the dead of winter?

And not speaking French?

She understood some words and phrases, but she wasn't fluent.

Being bilingual is hard enough. I'm not going for 'tri' status.

Checking her phone after leaving the hotel elevator, she shuffled down the carpeted hall to her room (517) while searching for 'things to do in Montreal in February.'

La Poutine Week. The world's largest poutine festival.

The lop squinted.

What is … poutine?

Her claws clacked on her phone screen.

French fries, cheese curds, and gravy.

The rabbit's nose twitched.

She was a vegetarian.

I don't suppose they do poutine without gravy?

She didn't bother checking. Even without it, the dish seemed fairly heavy! Cheese? And fried potatoes? She didn't need her stomach wrecked.

Looking up, she realized she'd wandered too far. She was at door 530! Sheepishly backtracking, she resumed looking at her phone.

Igloofest.

'Brave the cold with wild music, costumes, dancing, and booze.'

Hmm.

Sounds like a party.

And partying on assignment usually led to regret.

What else was there …

Four Nations Cup.

Well.

Already doing that!

Looking up, she counted the numbers on the doors. 519, 518 …

Ah.

517.

Pocketing her phone, she pulled out her key card and inserted it into the door.

A whir, a click, and she turned the handle.

One inside, she saw the bed had been made since this morning. Housekeeping, no doubt. Nudging the door shut, she yawned. Well, she was just about to unmake it.

It may have been a (debatably) reasonable hour in this time zone, but back home it was, what … three in the morning? Four?

Globe-hopping is a confusing and sleepy reality.

The rabbit, after brushing her buckteeth, started to undress. She pulled her shirt over her head, velvety, toffee-colored lop ears draping over her bare shoulders.

Her bra was next.

She'd prefer to go without, but she was quite busty. (Curvy? Was one better than the other? Wick had called her both.) Enough to require the support when in public.

Topless, she danced out of her pants. Panties, too. Revealing her dual-colored pelt. A random mishmash of caramel-and-cream patches. A 'parfait' as Kyler had once called her.

I still don't understand what that means.

It sounds … French?

Head swimming with many languages, real or imagined, she took some slow, deep breaths.

Reoriented herself.

She thought of her guys. Her boys. Her two lovers.

I miss them.

Wandering to the bed, she sat on it. Then laid back. Finally, naked on the covers, she proceeded to burrow beneath them but froze mid-way.

I forgot to turn off the light.

Grumbling and cursing in her native tongue, she got out of bed and shuffled across the room, short tail flicking like a furry teardrop above her shapely rump.

Buzz!

What was that?

Buzz!

She tilted her head, frowning in confusion.

Fingers on the light switch, she left them on (for now) and went to check her phone, which was on the bed.

Who would be texting her at this hour? Certainly no one back home. Had to have been someone here, on the same continent. But who did she know that—

“Oh, Wick … Wick!"

Thirty minutes later.

“Astrid," the wallaby moaned back, pointier muzzle kissing at her bucktoothed face. “Oh, hon … oh, yes … " Lips grazed and meshed together. Sucks and smacks, deep and twisting. “Mmmm … "

“Mm!" The rabbit arched her naked, fluffy body, muzzle full of his tongue. Sex filled by his. He was everywhere inside her! Her eyes rolled back.

The wallaby's hips moved faster, faster as he humped her to the bed. Rabbits could hop? Well, wallabies hopped with a capital H!

Finally, he pulled his muzzle from hers. “G-gonna! Ah, hah … fuck!" he cursed, green eyes squeezing shut as he hilted and came, flooding the lop with his virility.

The rabbit hugged her big-footed, long-tailed lover, mewing as her sex clenched around his cock, leaving wetness all over the muscular wallaby's loins.

Wick grunted in satisfaction, slumping atop her and purring, “Ooh." He panted, paws caressing her curves. “Sweet as!"

In a daze, Astrid clutched at him, still finding her breath.

“Love ya, babe."

“I … I love you, too," she managed to reply. A blink. Shaking her head, she wondered, “W-what … what are you even doing here, by the way? In Montreal?"

“Heh. Didn't care 'bout that before I rooted ya," the Aussie teased with a grin. “Wanted me that bad? Horny bun."

She gave him a shy, harmless shove, which was not a denial.

He laughed and answered, “We got a race in Montreal, remember? Canadian Grand Prix."

“Not until summer," she knew.

“Right. But one of our primary sponsors has a big presence here. Got a function with 'em! Greasing the wheels with the bigwigs, so to speak. Shooting some adverts. Signing autographs. That sorta stuff."

A racer's off-season wasn't a vacation.

Rigorous physical training (had to remain in tip-top shape to endure two hours pulling 5G's each race!).

Testing, both at the tracks and in state-of-the-art simulators.

Sponsor engagements.

To that last end, the sport wasn't cheap. Top-end technology (and the staff to operate it) cost a pretty penny. Teams didn't become successful by self-funding. Which meant wining and dining, giving speeches, selling your talent as an investment to corporations and rich privateers.

This meant drivers with 'personality' often had a leg up. And Wick certainly had that.

“Well, I'm grateful you sought me out," Astrid replied, nosing the wallaby's neck. She sniffed at his familiar scent. Rubbed his pelt. Such soft, tawny fur. Gold, beige, and darker brown. A handsome mix of colors. And the muscles beneath? Mmf. He was so fit. (Had she thought about that already? Well, it didn't hurt to dwell on it some more.)

“Wanted to surprise ya." Wick nuzzled her neck, breathing deeply of her. They hadn't seen each other in almost three months. Early November? Felt like forever! They'd be together again (on a weekly basis) when the F1 season started in March, but the wallaby had been jonesing for his bunny. “Have fun?"

Astrid smiled, still beneath him, arms around his neck. “What do you think?"

“You moaned my name twice before you came! I'd say I scratched your itch … mmm, with my six-and-a-half-inch cock."

“I know how big it is."

“Just reminding ya." He winked as he finally pulled it out of her. It was glistening wet, giving residual twitches as it shrunk. “So, you liking the hockey?"

Astrid rolled on her side to face him, head on a pillow. “It's not my favorite sport, but it's exciting."

“Did ya win? Your team?" Wick rubbed the rabbit's side, gently caressing her hip.

“We lost. It's probably going to be America and Canada in the finals. Usually is. I don't know why Finland didn't want to participate? But I guess I wouldn't be here if they had."

“Aw. Well. Anything can happen. When's the next one? Maybe I can go?"

“Day after tomorrow. And sure. I can get tickets from the network. I wouldn't be able to talk to you during the match, of course, but—"

“Wait. Are they hockey matches or games?"

“You would know more than me. English is not my first language!" the rabbit said.

The wallaby laughed. “They don't play hockey down under." He scrunched his muzzle. “Unless you count field hockey. The Kookaburras. Three-time world champs!"

“Something tells me they don't get into fisticuffs in field hockey."

“Don't underestimate the Aussie gumption to have a blue!"

The rabbit scrunched her face in confusion.

“Heh, tell me about your fight."

“Well. There were several, actually."

“Ooh. Sounds like fun!"

“The crowd thought so. I found it a bit much." Astrid smiled, placing a white, fluffy paw on the wallaby's chest, asking, “Are you … going to stay the night?"

“How could I abandon my missus?" he cooed softly.

Their noses touched and their lips kissed.

“Mm … I gotta be up early, though," he warned her. “I'll probably be gone before you wake. Won't be able to have brekkie with ya."

“It's okay. I'm so tired, anyway. I just … ahhm … should've gone to bed an hour ago."

“Heh heh, you are in bed."

“You know what I mean … " A big, bucktoothed yawn, cuddling up to the wallaby.

“I got ya," he murmured, stroking her fur. “You get your rest. Sweet dreams, darl."

Astrid didn't remember drifting off, but she was soon out like a light.

Astrid woke eight hours later to her phone vibrating on the bedside stand.

She instinctively pawed at the sheets.

Wick was gone.

He wouldn't be calling her? He had meetings all day.

It's not work, I hope!

Rubbing her eyes, the naked rabbit, half-tangled in bedsheets, retrieved her phone.

It stopped buzzing.

Missed call.

From …

Kyler?

Her eyes widened and she immediately swiped to call him back. She put the phone on 'speaker' mode as she flopped back onto her pillows.

Pick up, pick up, pick—

“Astrid!" the American river otter greeted enthusiastically.

“Kyler. You gave me a bit of a start," she said, playing it cool (or trying to), rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“You mean I woke you up?"

“I should have been up anyway." She smiled, though he couldn't see it. “How are you?"

They kept in touch, of course.

Chatted frequently.

Even video-called every few weeks to … well … was it considered 'phone sex' if it was on a laptop screen?

Computers are not phones! So, no? Her English was failing her. Again. Is there a better term for it? Cyber sex? That can't be right. That sounds very naughty somehow, as well as very 1990's.

Having met and hooked up at the Winter Olympics in Beijing three years ago (a 'love at first sight' situation), they tried their best to remain intimate from afar, but … it was difficult.

They were from different countries and both had professions which involved travel. It just wasn't possible to physically be together more than once or twice a year.

It was either be flexible … or give each other up.

And Astrid couldn't bear losing him.

So, here they were.

In a 'open' relationship.

“I'm good," Kyler told her. “I saw your clips on social media posts last night!"

“I don't have social media?"

“Well, your network."

The lop giggled. “And why are you following Norwegian sports coverage, mm? Keeping tabs on me?"

“I'm interested in what you do!" the otter insisted brightly. “I didn't understand a word you were saying, but you sounded so cute saying it."

Astrid blushed, fiddling with one of her ears. While she was bilingual, Kyler was not. That was Americans for you! But his tongue made it up to her in other ways …

“Mm." The otter took a breath, asking, “What are you wearing right now?"

“Well, you woke me up, and I sleep in the fur, so … I will leave that to your imagination."

He knew she slept naked. He just wanted to hear her say she was.

“Where are you at?" Astrid asked, pulling him back on track.

“Boston."

“Really?" Her heart skipped a beat. The championship of her hockey tournament was in Boston! But she'd only cover it if Norway advanced, and … they were not off to a good start. “For how long?"

“Been here all week. Media stuff. Finish tomorrow morning and then it's off to Lake Placid day after that."

“Oh." She skipped a beat, trying to hide her disappointment. “Placid? Is that in … California?" The rabbit's grasp of US geography was tentative at best. She knew the major cities, but she could probably only name a third of the states? If that.

“Ha. No. You're probably thinking of Lake Tahoe?"

“Am I? I don't know … "

“Lake Placid is New York! Upstate. Really pretty area. They hosted the Winter Games in 1980."

“Really?"

“Yup."

Like Astrid, the otter worked as a sports commentator. Especially 'extreme' or action sports. He'd also been a studio host for the Summer Games in Paris last year and was employed as spokesman and recruiter for the US Olympic Committee as well as being an Olympic athlete himself.

He was the reigning gold medalist (in an upset) in the skeleton sled event, a title he was determined to defend next winter. Qualifications would be next January with the Winter Games set for February in Italy.

Such a dynamo.

How does he do it all?

“What are you going to this placid lake for? An icy swim?" Astrid teased.

“I'm not a sea otter! Well, one-quarter. Or is it one-eighth?" Kyler paused, trying to remember his family history. “I prefer my water a bit warmer. Actually, it's the site of this year's Skeleton World Championships!"

“Oh? I thought those already happened?"

“They're not until March this year. Don't ask me why. But I need to get some practice in! Didn't do well last year. Need some momentum headed into '26."

Kyler had finished 11th at last years 'worlds' after grabbing 3rd (and bronze) two years ago in Lillehammer (which she'd been present for).

Regardless of how Kyler fared in the next Olympics, he was still a gold medalist! No one could take that away. But, as an athlete, his competitive drive was never sated. Always better, always more. An eternal flame (which was what the Olympic cauldron symbolized, now that she thought about it).

Astrid admired that about both him and Wick. Both so motivated and determined! So confident. There was something inherently magnetic about that. _ _

“Astrid?"

“Mm?"

“You're awfully quiet."

“It's nothing." She blew out a breath, staring at the ceiling. That's not true. He knows when you're lying. “Just thinking about how … how competitive you are, how successful? And you still make time for me, who is neither."

“Don't say that. You're plenty successful. You're good at what you do!"

“You're just saying that … "

“You're the most important person in my life," he said without hesitation. “If that makes me biased, so be it."

“I sometimes feel I don't deserve that distinction."

Most important?

Most special?

Most loved?

How could those things apply to her?

The lop had always had an insecure streak. Growing up, she wished she was a tall-eared rabbit. Her limp ears made her self-conscious. She believed them to be 'less attractive.'

“I guess I'll just have to keep reminding you that you do," Kyler answered gently.

The rabbit paused before saying, “I was also thinking, ah … only, if Norway were to advance to the hockey final? I would be there next week. In Boston."

“Yeah?"

“But they are already last place in the group, so I don't believe they'll make it."

“You never know!"

“It doesn't matter. Even if a miracle happened, you would no longer be there, yes?"

“No. But … " The otter drew a breath, aching at their near miss, and said, “You know … a flight to Montreal from here is only about an hour?" He let that linger and added excitedly, “I could be there tomorrow. By mid-afternoon!"

“Are you serious?" The rabbit almost sat upright. Her heart raced at the thought of being with him. “Wouldn't … wouldn't that be expensive?"

“Two hundred bucks. Round trip." He was already looking it up. “It's a splurge, yeah, but not a bad deal considering what I'd be getting in return," he murmured.

“And what would that be?" she asked coyly.

The otter bluntly said (surely with a smirk), “Your pussy."

“Hmm." The lop cleared her throat. “Well, Mr. Otter, it sounds like you've stumbled upon quite the bargain."

“Heh! I'd say so." He sighed. “It's been ten months. Almost a year, bunny." Since they'd seen each other in person. Held each other. Kissed each other. Made love. “I want you so bad. You don't even know … "

“I'm pretty sure I do," she breathed vulnerably.

“You don't have a game to call tonight, do you?"

“No. Tomorrow evening."

“Great! So … okay, then I can fly in tomorrow, early afternoon, we can do something in the city, have a nice meal … then maybe I could go to your game? And, after, we'd spend the night in your hotel room. Then I'd fly back to Boston the following morning and drive to Lake Placid that afternoon in time for my training window."

“That sounds so hectic … "

“I'm a skeleton sledder. I slide face-first at eighty miles per hour down ice chutes. I'm okay with hectic."

“But you're doing so much already!"

Kyler smoothly replied, “I'd rather be doing you."

Astrid exhaled hotly.

“Look, I won't come if you don't want me to … "

“I didn't say that," was her quick retort. Her heart pounding, again, she nodded. “Yes. I need to see you … who knows when our next chance will be?"

“Great! Cause I already ordered the tickets."

Astrid smiled, then stammered, “Oh. Um. I should … " She bunched up the sheets in her paws. “I also must tell you … that Wick got the same idea? He was, uh … well, he's in town for business. Racing stuff. I don't know. And … " The rabbit trailed off. “We spent last night together."

“Did you have fun?" the otter asked, a twinkle in his voice.

“Um … yes," was her vague reply.

“How many times did he make you cum?"

“Kyler!"

“Heh. Sorry. You're so easy to tease." He skipped a beat and wondered, “Do you have plans with him for tonight?"

“Yes."

“Tomorrow?"

“No. Not yet."

“Then what's the problem? He'll understand."

“How can two wonderful guys, world-class athletes, so competitive and full of testosterone … share me and not be jealous of each other? Even a little?" Wick and Kyler were practically bros!

“Sweetie. We both love you. We want you to be happy. Do you want us to fight over you?"

“No, of course not."

“Then relax. This isn't 'too good to be true.' It's happening. We're making it work!"

She closed her eyes and took a slow, easy breath, deciding, “Yes. I know. You're right … " The most important parts of an open relationship were trust and transparency. And they had both.

Astrid knew of Kyler's other lovers, just as he knew of hers.

She knew about the giant, rainbow-colored Indian squirrel, Zora. Also, not coincidentally, a reality show star and reigning Olympic medalist (silver in beach volleyball).

Zora and Kyler had met in Paris during the Summer Games last year and had been together a few times since.

“Now, doesn't it turn you on how mature I am?" Kyler asked.

“Oh, it makes me so wet to think about," Astrid joked.

The otter laughed.

“I'll tell Wick about it, then. How … that you'll be here, and I'll be busy with you, and … and I … " She was struggling for words, her voice breaking. She had told herself she wouldn't get this emotional, but she couldn't stop it. “Am I really going to see you?" She sniffed. “I miss you so much."

What have I gotten myself into?

“Bunny … I miss you, too. Hearing your voice isn't enough. I'm going to do so many things to you!"

Astrid shivered at the thought.

“Is there any place we can visit? In the afternoon?"

“I've been looking at a list … maybe the Aquarium de Montreal? Then you can ogle many kinds of fish."

Kyler laughed. “Sounds otter-ly enchanting."

Astrid smiled. “I was going to get Wick tickets to the hockey match. If you wanted to go, too, and sit with him?"

“Sure. That sounds great! I gotta go, though. I got some meetings and stuff. I'll text you tonight. Later, okay?"

“Okay."

“I love you."

“I love you, too," she said.

Kyler hung up.

Astrid hadn't realized she was rubbing herself until she looked down, her paw on her clit.

Sitting up, she looked to the bathroom.

I wonder if the showerhead is detachable?

The next day, mid-afternoon.

Astrid and Kyler were finally together, meeting at the aquarium (trading multiple kisses, kept reasonably chaste due to being in public).

After getting their tickets, they meandered into the 'Indo-Pacific Reef Tank,' a 160,000-gallon ceiling to floor panoramic enclosure.

It is so 'blue' in here!

Is there a waterway in the ceiling?

Two thousand active, tropical fish belonging to dozens of species darted in front of a kaleidoscope backdrop of colorful corals and anemones.

Astrid stuck close to Kyler, holding to his arm.

“You're not claustrophobic?" he noted quietly.

“No." 'Critter' species tended not to be, instinctively wired for burrows and small spaces. “I just didn't expect this place to be so … immersive?" She genuinely felt like she was underwater! She had to remind herself to breathe normally.

“This aquarium is brand new, apparently. State of the art." Kyler had looked it up during his plane ride.

They stopped to watch sunny, yellow fish intermingle with bright blue ones. The yellows had bigger, wavier fins and tails.

Kyler pointed and said, “Yellow tangs! 'Lemon sailfish'."

“Good with pepper, I imagine?"

“Heh. Otters don't eat all fish."

“Then how did you know what that one is?"

“Common knowledge!" he insisted.

“To who?" Astrid giggled, then sad, “You know … I've still never seen you swim?" They'd come close in Miami, but it hadn't happened.

“Do you want to?"

“Only, how can I be with an otter for three years and never see them in water?"

“You've seen me in the shower," he murmured privately, with a not-so-private grin.

“That's not quite the same thing."

“Semantics," Kyler said. As they entered a 'tunnel' connecting one large ocean room to another, the otter suggested, “Maybe we should take a vacation together some time? Somewhere with a beach?"

“We've tried that. Our schedules don't align. I work all summer on racing, and you train all winter for sledding." Besides, neither of them did one singular thing. There was always another job. “And we're never on the same continent, and when we are … " The lop trailed off before saying, “I'm sorry. Here I am complaining, making excuses. Maybe we can try, plan far enough ahead?" She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I'm happy you're here. I know you didn't have to come … "

“Maybe you'd get sick of me if I was around more often?"

“I wouldn't."

“How do you know?" He stopped and turned to face her, looking down into her blue eyes.

She looked back into his browns. “Because."

“Such a logical mind to go with that sexy body," he teased.

They parted when a chattering group of felines entered the room.

Continuing their stroll, the otter asked, “Does your hotel have a swimming pool?"

“Even if it does, I didn't pack a swimsuit."

“Neither did I," he said with a wink. “Think anyone would notice?"

“I, uh … " Astrid blushed, pointing to a sign. “I think we should check out the lagoon, next. I want to see the sea stars."

Kyler put a paw on the rabbit's short, fluffy tail and gave a grope, whispering, “I'll make you see stars later."

Astrid giggled.

They ate a late lunch (or was it early dinner?) at a restaurant called Jacopo's.

“These menus are in French," Astrid said. Her nose twitched. “I was worried about this."

“The waiters speak English," Kyler said, sipping a white wine. Leaning back casually in his chair. “Just ask them to translate it for you."

“I want to know what I'm going to order before they get back," the rabbit insisted. Sitting perfectly upright, she squinted, reading aloud, “Salade du moment et soupe du jour." She understood that, at least.

“Salad and soup? Sounds good for you. Assuming the soup is meat-less."

“Yes, but what is in the 'seasonal salad?' Or the soup for that matter."

Kyler chuckled as he drank more wine. “C'est la vie!"

She smiled, insisting, “You don't speak French, either. You probably heard that in a movie."

“Still counts!"

Astrid bit her lip. “I think I will get dessert, too. Tiramisu? Have you had that before?"

“That's not French. That's … Italian, isn't it?"

“I don't know anymore," the rabbit said, rubbing her cheeks. “I think I've had it. It's like a coffee cake thing … very sweet. Decadent."

“I'm all about that," the otter purred.

“I'll let you have a bite."

When the waiter returned, Astrid ordered the salad (with all the toppings), a bowl of soup (which turned out to be tomato basil with a side of bread), and a piece of tiramisu.

Kyler got something called 'linguini pescatore,' a fishy pasta dish with lobster, shrimp, and scallops in it.

Astrid quipped, “Are you planning on eating the entire ocean?"

“Heh! No, of course not. Gotta save room for later." A wink. “Why do you think I didn't get dessert?"

The rabbit flushed at the insinuation. Before she could manage a response, her phone dinged.

She checked it.

“Oh! The tickets for the game will be at will call. Just give them my name. One for you and Wick."

“Nice!"

“They're not front row, but—"

“It's fine! We'll have fun. How's Wick been?"

“He's been well. Still looking for his first win on the circuit, though he had three podiums last year, up from one the year before."

“Is it that hard to win a race?"

“Harder than people think. A lot of factors in play."

Kyler nodded, mind returning to hockey. “You know, having a big tail … I always worry about someone's tail getting sliced off by accident. You know, fall on the ice. Another skater can't stop, and they skate right over it? I'm surprised that doesn't happen more often!"

“Perhaps this is not the best turn for our dinner conversation?"

“Easy for you to say, Miss Short Tail," he joked.

Astrid shook her head, putting her phone back in her pocket. “I have heard you say many complimentary things about my tail in the past."

“Is is top-tier," the otter remembered, peering at her over the rim of his wine glass. “I suppose I could use a reminder?"

The rabbit coyly sipped her water and looked back at him.

At the game, a few minutes before the puck was scheduled to drop.

“You play hockey?" Wick asked Kyler as they settled into their seats, concessions in tow. They were closer to the top row than the bottom, but the view was till good. And there was a huge video screen to show them anything they might miss.

“And get my tail sliced off?"

“Huh?"

“Oh, just a … heh, never mind. A phobia. No, I've never played hockey. Too rough. I'm into finesse sports. Speed, you know? Sledding, ski jumping, snowboarding."

“I know about speed," the racer promised with a wink, biting into a cheese and salsa-strewn tortilla chip. “They said this was spicy."

“Is it?"

The wallaby coughed and blew out a breath. “Yup."

Kyler laughed. “Should've gotten the poutine."

“Mm." The wallaby sipped a fruit smoothie from a straw. “Astrid said that has gravy in it. I'm a vegetarian."

“Really? Wallabies don't eat meat?"

“Why would you think we did?"

“Dunno, you're so … "

“Ripped?"

“Well-built."

“You sure you're still straight?" the wallaby asked with a smirk. He'd sucked the otter's cock back in Miami, but only while Astrid had been holding the otter and guiding him through it. Wick and Astrid were bisexual.

“Alas!"

“What percentage we talking about?" Another chip. Crunch-crunch-crunch. “75/25?"

“Oh, no. Higher than that. At least … 90/10."

“Shame. Am I the ten percent?" the wallaby asked, batting his eyelashes.

Kyler chuckled before admitting, “Maybe."

“Sweet as," the wallaby said. “We gotta do another threesome. You and I don't need to do each other if ya don't want," he assured. “We can just tag team the missus."

“I'm open to it … in the future. But after a year apart? I really want some alone time with her tonight. No offense."

“None taken, mate. I get it." The wallaby stuffed his muzzle with more laden tortilla chips. Crunch-crunch! “This is … mmf, a bit of a splurge for me, y'know ," Wick continued, of the junk he was eating. “The team assigns me a nutritionist. Who is also my exercise guru? They're always on me. Gotta weigh myself before and after each time I drive the car."

“Wow. And here I have to motivate myself to stay in shape … "

“For a single-man team, you're doin' great."

“How many people does your team employ?"

“Oh, a few hundred, easy."

The otter's brown eyes widened.

“Between the bosses, the mechanics, publicists, engineers at the track and the engineers who stay at the homebase, so on, et cetera. Yeah, it's a major league operation! No different than one o' your pro football or basketball teams."

Kyler nodded and chomped on his own food. He'd gotten a bag of churros. “What about fish?"

“No, it's not like fish."

“You said wallabies don't eat meat," Kyler clarified, rolling his eyes. “What about fish?"

“Fish isn't a meat?" Wick asked in confusion.

“It's a culinary grey area," Kyler admitted, gesturing with his webbed paw. “But if had my mother's garlic butter oven baked tilapia? There'd be no more questions." The otter shoved the rest of the cinnamon-sugar churro into his mouth and started on another.

Wick crunched into another nacho. Licking cheese off his lips, a sly look in his eyes, he nodded at Kyler. “Heyo. Those are a bit phallic, doncha think?"

“These?" The otter looked took the fried dough stick out of his mouth (his order had come with four), looked at it, and then laughed. “Sometimes, food is just food."

“That's a long sucker, too. Size queen stuff. And you're dipping it in white icing?!"

“Cause it's good," the otter defended, taking another sweet, sugary bite. “And it came with it."

“Hoo, yeah, I'm movin' you down for 85/15, mate. Maybe even 80/20!"

“You do that."

He studied the otter, circling back to earlier, “I can see you on a snowboard. Not skiis, though. Nah. You got that slight 'bad boy' energy snowboarders got."

“What about sledders? I don't look like a sledder?"

“What're they supposed to look like?"

“Fucking cool," Kyler insisted, his muzzle full. He chewed and swallowed, taking a swig from a soda bottle.

“I'll tell ya what's cool. Being a race car driver is cool."

“I guess we're both cool, then," Kyler reasoned.

“Cool? Or hot?"

“Why not both?" More churro chomping. “I don't have time for snowboarding. Medaling in one Olympic sport? Takes countless hours of time and training. For very little money, I might add. Being an Olympic athlete is … not lucrative."

“You seem like you're doin' okay?"

“Only because I parlayed my dramatic success into sponsorships and media jobs. Not everyone is able to do that. I guess you could say I got lucky?" He wiped some icing from his whiskers.

Wick gave him a lusty look, saying, “Not like I'm flush in smackeroos, myself. Don't got any wins. My team's mid-level. The big guys? They're getting in the millions each year. I'm not there."

“Yet," the otter insisted. “I believe in you."

The wallaby held out a first for the otter. “I believe in you, too, mate."

Kyler bumped it.

“Hell, yeah!"

The lights in the arena began to strobe. Players were skating into position.

“The missus is sure glad you're here," Wick said, leaning closer to Kyler to be heard above the noise.

“Oh? She say that?"

“I can tell." The wallaby winked. “Ha, when she texted me to say you were coming, it was like … she was so meek about it. I could feel her blushing behind the text. She thought I was gonna be mad or something. She's still not used to our 'arrangement'."

“She's afraid the bubble's gonna burst," Kyler told him.

“Well, when we both got her tail and each other's tails, that's not gonna happen!"

Kyler smiled. “You want my tail, now, too?"

The wallaby snatched the otter's last churro and dipped it in the icing cup, taking a slow, sumptuous bite. “Mm. You're right." He chewed and swallowed. “These are tasty."

The otter laughed and took the rest of the wallaby's nachos.

The puck dropped.

Nighttime, four hours later.

Norway won in overtime, keeping their championship hopes alive!

Time to celebrate.

In Astrid's hotel room, Kyler stripped away his shirt in one smooth motion. Dangling it playfully before letting it drop. His light brown chest and belly (compared to the dark, chocolate brown everywhere else) were sleek and muscular, his whole body coiled with anticipation.

Astrid watched his private striptease, a captive audience.

The otter's webbed paws unbuckled his belt. Popped open the button to his jeans. Pulled down the zipper.

Astrid breathed faster. Faster. Heart starting to race.

Let me see it … please …

Seconds later, with a fanged grin, he obliged her by tugging the elastic band of his underwear down. And out sprung his thick, pink cock. It bobbled before pointing upright, dribbling beads of clear liquid from the tip.

Pure, pulsing masculinity.

Astrid drooled dumbly.

Oh, my god.

“Naked. Bed. Now," he ordered, stepping out of his pants while exercising his casual dominance over her.

She blinked and obeyed, hopping into bed, kicking and thrashing to get her clothes off. She was naked in record time.

The otter advanced upon her, rudder tail lifting, steering his motions as he crawled into bed after her.

Ten months had made them both impatient.

No more waiting.

He ate her out, first. As promised at the restaurant. Hungrily, lusciously, with loud slurps and huffs, tongue grazing over her clit before sweeping down and swirling inside her vagina.

Astrid gasped, buxom, white breasts pushing into the air as she arched her spine.

Kyler didn't let up for anything.

Just kept going and going and—

It's too good!

I can't!

Ah, ah, I can't!

Her fingers curled in his head-fur, mind blanking. She felt it coming. Like a tsunami.

Kyler growled, doubling down. _ _

Astrid orgasmed.

The otter, nose flaring, drank her down, lapping up every bit of wetness.

Limbs shaking, maw gaping breathlessly, she grasped at anything she could hold to.

“Breathe, baby … remember to breathe."

The rabbit finally exhaled, sucking in air just as fast.

“You okay?" he asked, nuzzling her thighs, kissing them so intimately.

“Y-yes … oh, yes," was her dizzy reply. “Oh! Kyler! That was so—"

“Good. I know," he replied with casual, toothy confidence. He was in his element right now. “But we're just getting started, Astrid. Relax. Let me take care of you, okay?"

“Yes, Kyler."

He can do anything he wants.

I'm his.

The otter kissed at her quivering belly, up to her breasts. He groped at them. Squeezed them. Sucked on her tits.

The rabbit, eyes half-open (seeing stars; he'd promised she would, hadn't he?), combed her claws through his pelt while he did this. He had the softest, warmest fur of anyone she'd ever been with. It so plush, so thick and dense. She loved to feel it.

Ultimately, he lifted to his knees and twirled his paw.

Astrid blinked.

Oh! My belly.

She rolled over and hiked up her rump, flagging her little fluff-tail.

He wanted her from behind.

“There's a good girl," he cooed, groping her ass before grabbing her hips and grinding against her, easing his dick into her wet, warm sex.

“Mm!"

Oh, how I missed this …

The feeling of him.

The presence.

Her pussy clenched.

His webbed paws stroked up and down her back.

Astrid sighed.

Resting at a hilt, he reached under her body to fiddle with her clit.

“Mm, mmm!"

“Don't tense up … easy, girl. There we go." He rubbed at her some more, very carefully. Gingerly. Knowing how blazingly sensitive it was for her. “That's it … let it all out. Ahh, you feel amazing." The otter huffed and shuddered as her sex clenched on him, warmer and wetter than when he'd entered. Hotter than all his memories. “Ah!"

He'd been with other females since seeing Astrid last. Zora most prominently. But Astrid's pussy was magic, a portal into heaven. She did something to him. Drove him crazy.

His self-control went out the window.

He fucked her.

Hotly, hurriedly.

Losing all self control. His balls lewdly slapping against her pink, pouty vulva.

“Uh!" he grunted, unable to keep quiet. “Uhh!"

The louder her lover became, the more excited Astrid got. She flicked and wiggled her fluffy tail, grinding her rump back against his powerful, virile loins.

“Ah! Hah … "

Then, impulsively, Kyler dropped from his knees to 'all fours' atop her. Arms and knees planted on the bed, only his hips moving. Screwing her like a feral beast, drilling her with his penis.

Squelches and slaps.

Huffing, puffing!

Fur shed and swirled in their heated, humping wake. Chocolate and caramel and cream.

The world could end right now and neither would've cared.

Astrid moaned into the pillows. The sounds muffled, mixed with broken Norwegian. Curses, likely.

Kyler bit the scruff of her nape, growling deeply, delivering sharp, deep thrusts, dripping cock spearing into her slick, squelching depths.

The rabbit screamed beneath him, body wriggling, tail flicking. “Ahh! Ah, ah … ah!"

She was having another orgasm.

He could feel it.

Kyler, huffing against one of her lop ears, hilted himself in her quaking pussy and grunted with a deep, primal satisfaction, her rippling walls milking him past the edge.

“Huh!" His face twisted into a look of pure bliss as he flooded her with his seed. Pulse after pulse. “Uh … huhh … "

She whimpered as she took it. All of him. Everything.

So noisy and messy and undignified.

But when it was that good, when you were this head over heels … how else could one behave?

Kyler huffed, chest heaving on her back. He slumped. “Ohh, yeahhh… "

“K-kyler … "

“Oh, bunny." A deep breath. He blinked and gathered himself. “I'm here. I'm here," he promised, nuzzling her cheek from behind. Breathing of her scent. “I'll never love anyone as much as I love you." He hugged her possessively.

“You mean that?" She blushed, melting into his grasp. Of course he meant it. The way he made love to her? You couldn't fake that level of emotion. But (again with the insecurity) she felt the need to downplay herself. “I bet Zora is a lot of fun."

“She is." Terrific fun, in fact. “But, with you, it's almost spiritual."

“Almost?" The rabbit paused and asked, “Are you saying … it can get even better?"

“Always room for improvement," he murmured suggestively, pulling out of her, dropping to his side.

Astrid shifted to face him, reaching out to touch his face, to strum his whiskers like guitar strings.

He looked into her eyes.

She looked back, whispering, “I love you."

“I love you, too." He smiled and eased in for a kiss, his whiskers tangling with hers.

Astrid sighed through her nose.

How many times have I said that this week?

To Kyler?

To Wick?

And why do I still get shivers each time?

Will it ever get old?

I hope not.

Despite the chaotic state of the world, maybe it was possible for things to be good and true in equal measure? Bubbles didn't have to burst. Dreams didn't have to end. Not as long as you believed in them.

I believe in my boys.

With all my heart.

Kyler, tracing a claw through her fur, suggested, in a low, murring tone, “Now, how 'bout I fuck you clean in the shower. And we'll watch a movie in bed when we're done." He nipped at her shoulder. “Maybe order room service for supper?"

“You sure know how to make a girl swoon," she teased with a smile.

“Don't worry. I'll catch you when you do." The otter chirped and carried his satisfied lover to the bathroom.