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Easing In

Chapter 61

For some reason, traveling the valley made Florian very sad. Seeing the beauty around him, the great palaces, the white bridges stretching over still lakes, little boats shaped like swans, trees with brightly colored fruits he'd never seen in his life . . . seeing all of it and knowing that his ancestors had gone on to destroy the entirety of the fox empire . . . depressed him. But also knowing that Ayni had been against it was a relief. Maybe the old Girl of Fire wasn't so bad after all.

They had been traveling for days when they found themselves wading through a flooded area, where trees rose pearly pink in smooth pillars from the placid surface of the water. The monsters seemed afraid of the water and did not follow them through, where the leaves were orange and gold, spiraling in the sunlight and sailing away across the water like little boats.

Walking through the place, Florian felt as if he was trespassing and wanted to leave the SummerValley. All of it gave him the terrible vibe that he - a dog -- was not supposed to be there.

Yeneneshe had no shoes, and Ettoras carried her as they crossed the water. Florian thought the two looked so sweet and so in love. The content way Yeneneshe lay her head on the prince of S'pru's shoulder and the loving way in which Ettoras looked down at her made Florian smile, and he felt guilty every time he thought of going down on Ettoras. In fact, Ettoras was so young, he felt like an old pervy lecher, and he resisted the urge to look at the young male's muscular back and flexing backside. Those times he failed to resist temptation, Shakir would glower at him, and he would look away. But could he really be blamed? Especially when Ettoras wore those damned tight leggings that were two sizes too small and paraded around with a huge bulge that constantly forced him to think of sucking his cock? Besides, he knew that Shakir was attracted to Ettoras as well, and whenever he caught the little black dog looking at the prince of S'pru, he would smile in triumph.

It was too soon for Florian to say that he loved Shakir, but he knew he didn't want to be away from him. All his life, he had lived alone and withdrawn, struggling to find a connection in a sea of strangers. After the incident with Jonathan, his father was ashamed of him and the gossip that it generated. Adrian tried to restrict Florian to Wandourg, and his son wasn't to go anywhere or see anyone until he had "out grown" his fascination with males. A young and rebellious Florian had often slipped from the castle to find companionship wherever he could, but even the fox whores he befriended at his brothel never really . . . connected with him.

Florian did have one lover for many years, a male fox named Keshavi who was responsible for having taught Florian most of the fox language and had also given Florian his enchanted flask - something Keshavi later came to regret, as Florian used it to remain in a constant state of inebriation. In truth, Keshavi was the reason Florian had a change of heart, as it was Keshavi and his clan who a young Florian had found bleeding and dying after the earthquakes. Keshavi had been very young as well, about fifteen years old, with soft red fur and a curly white mane that tumbled long around slanted blue eyes. He was so absolutely beautiful, Florian thought he was the Creator's gift to dog. And he was so helpless and frail, coughing up blood, a thin and weak thing in Florian's arms. Florian returned with several Great Danes to evacuate Keshavi and his clan from the collapsed burrow, and he built the hospice for his love and sat beside his bed, watching anxiously as the doctors slowly nursed Keshavi back to health.

The first time Keshavi was able to open his eyes, he saw Florian and hoarsely asked who he was. Florian remembered answering, "I'm the one who loves you." Now that he was older, he thought it was all terribly droll and cliché, but he was young at the time and so was Keshavi, so the fox fell for the line. They became lovers, and Florian practically lived in the hospice, anything to be near Keshavi. He didn't care about going home and never even wrote his parents to tell them where he was. Those first five years were ecstasy. Then came the day when Adrian started making threats that he would shut the hospice down and have all the foxes skinned, so Florian did the drastic thing and turned the hospice . . . into a whorehouse.

Needless to say, Keshavi was furious. Keshavi had friends as well as family living at the hospice with him: a sister and a brother who were equally as beautiful. Because of Florian, Keshavi's siblings were forced to become whores, and because they were so beautiful, they became the most expensive whores of the hospice. Just to keep the dogs from skinning them, Florian would bring in very wealthy nobles and would sell the foxes to them in the hope that they would spread the idea that it was much better to fuck the foxes than to skin them. Keshavi, of course, was spared this humiliation, and after several furious arguments with Florian, so was his family. But Keshavi's friends and other foxes he knew and loved were still forced to serve the dogs, and he hated Florian for it.

Over the years, Keshavi became more cold and withdrawn. Florian would return to the brothel in the middle of the night and climb into the satin sheets in the lavish chambers he had given Keshavi. He would hold Keshavi close, and his lover would stiffen angrily in his arms. He would fondle and kiss Keshavi, and his lover would coldly ignore his affection.

One night, Florian was drunk and became very angry with Keshavi's cold refusal to acknowledge him. He came to the brothel with flowers, and when Keshavi stood at the window and ignored him, he threw the flowers on the carpet. He was about to storm out when Keshavi spoke.

"Are you really surprised?" Keshavi said in a low voice, and he was speaking his own language, his voice purring like a cat. "You make my friends into whores and then think you can make it better with flowers and jewelry?" He was standing at the window with his arms folded, wearing a transparent negligee with a transparent robe over it. Jewelry sparkled on his fingers and in his ears. He was pretty and painted up, nails dyed black, with kohl around his eyes, his long curly mane falling down his back to his tail. He looked like a female, a soft and pretty female. It made Florian very happy, but Keshavi dressed that way because he liked to. He was also wearing the gold bracelets Florian had given him, but in sudden anger, he swiped them off and let them fall on the carpet.

"I made them whores to protect you," Florian said angrily. "To protect all of you! Every bloody thing I did was to protect you from my father!"

Keshavi's thin chest heaved and he shook his head. "You are your father," he said bitterly.

Florian swallowed miserably and took a halting step into the room. He felt his paws shaking, and he knew he was angry because Keshavi was right. He glanced at the crushed flowers on the floor and thought of all the times his father had returned to Wandourg with flowers and candy after slouching around in some brothel, and how his mother would cry later when he was gone. Adrian didn't understand love or marriage and bumbled through it, believing he could pacify his wife with gifts. Florian had watched and had subconsciously learned. He looked at Keshavi, and he didn't know what to do to make things right. Could he make things right?

Florian's eyes dropped to the carpet. "Kesi . . ." he whispered apologetically.

"I'm leaving," Keshavi said and lifted his chin, his long lashes protruding around the sweep of his curly white mane.

Florian's nostrils flared. "No. No, you aren't!"

"Yes," Keshavi said coldly. "I'm going back to the forest. I'm going home. I'm well enough to. There's really no reason for me to stay here anymore. You can't hurt me anymore."

Long after the earthquakes, Keshavi was sickly and weak and needed constant care, and because Adrian would no longer allow Florian access to the treasury, whoring the foxes became a way to pay Keshavi's doctors. Florian always thought he was saving Keshavi. He never stopped to realize how much he was hurting him.

Florian dropped his eyes. "Not to sound cliché, darling, but . . . I never m-meant --"

"To hurt me?" Keshavi snapped. He looked Florian in the eye for the first time, and Florian was stung by his tears. "I'm leaving!" Keshavi practically screamed. He tried to move past Florian, and Florian noticed for the first time that Keshavi's luggage and a coat were in a chair near the door. Florian blocked Keshavi at once, and the handsome fox halted miserably. They were nearly forty, but Keshavi still looked like a sixteen-year-old boy. Now that they were much older, Florian felt guilty for lusting after a male who still looked so very young, even if he knew he was actually thirty-six.

"You can't stop me, Flori," Keshavi sobbed.

Florian hated when the fox's pretty eyes blinked out tears, but every part of him was pumping with burning, fiery rage. He had lost everything, everything_to help Keshavi. He had abandoned his mother, had angered his father, had turned the _world against him and was about to lose the crown. His father had given him one month to close the brothel or submit to a monastery or become a pauper on the streets - and all of it so Keshavi could fall out of love with him and leave him? It couldn't be happening. He wouldn't let it happen. He grabbed Keshavi and shoved him down on the bed. Keshavi choked as he fell back on his tail, his earrings flying, his nightgown falling back to reveal his black thong. He drew up his leg and scooted back, his eyes wide with fear. Florian had never been violent before, and Keshavi's eyes darted to the door, as if he might scream for help. But of course, no one would come running.

"F-Florian . . ." Keshavi whispered and a tear slipped down his cheek.

Florian kicked the door shut behind him and staggered drunkenly toward Keshavi, ripping his pants open as he came. He didn't know it, but his eyes were blazing. "Are you afraid of me, Kesi?" he muttered unhappily.

Keshavi slowly shook his head. "Please, Flori, don't - mmph!" Keshavi choked to silence when Florian slammed him down by the neck. He pushed up Keshavi's nightgown and yanked down his thong, forcing out the small soft cock that smelled so sweetly. It lay quietly on his thigh, warm pink in the candlelight. Florian devoured the little cock, and when Keshavi pushed on his head, trying to stop his desperate sucking, Florian slapped his paws off and sucked harder, deeper, licking and slurping until Keshavi whimpered and started to harden in his mouth. In sudden anger, Keshavi scowled and swung. Florian grappled with him impatiently. He managed to grab the fox's wrists and fought his way between his kicking legs. His pants were around his ankles when he stabbed himself inside the tight, squirming heat he had come to love so dearly. Keshavi's mane tumbled in his face, and he arched his back and cried out helplessly as Florian filled him. "Florian! N-No!" Florian growled and roughly humped Keshavi over the edge of the bed, fast, panting and desperate, holding his wrists, until he had come inside so hard, his cum over-spilled, leaking hot between Keshavi's clenching buttocks and down his tail. He clutched Keshavi's soft cheeks in fistfuls as he came inside him, and he didn't pull out. As Keshavi lay under him, he grabbed his stiff little cock and pumped it until it squirted in his fingers. "F-Flori - A-Ahh!" Keshavi shivered as his own cum sprinkled his belly and chest. Florian collapsed on top of Keshavi, relishing in his softness and warmth and the perfume layered in his fur. It was the last time he felt Keshavi's arms around him, the last time he felt his lover's tears in his fur, the last time he felt his lover's sad kiss on his mane.

When Florian awoke the next morning, Keshavi was gone, having left a note that said he and his siblings had returned to the forest and were not coming back.

You can't just rape me, read Keshavi's letter, and expect me to stay with you, believing the lie that you care. You never cared about me. I was always some fetish, a pretty boy to take off a shelf and use like a toy. I will be your toy no more. Goodbye, Flori.

Florian remembered crumpling the note and letting it fall to the carpet, and it was then that he left Curith and traveled all the way to Maldoene. When Ettoras asked him "Why Maldoene?" he knew the reason was Keshavi. Keshavi was originally from Maldoene and had migrated to Curith with his family before the earthquakes. Florian knew Keshavi very well and knew his lover would return home, going as far from Florian as was possible. Florian came to Maldoene intent on hiring a foxhunter under the table to hunt Keshavi down and bring him back unharmed. In hindsight, he knew his actions were controlling and abhorrent, but at the time, he was only worried for Keshavi's safety and thought he alone could protect him from the hatred of the wide world.

Florian sent a letter to Captain Howlett ahead of his arrival at Canderly, stating his intentions and the fact that he desired his services. He knew Howlett was an ex-foxhunter who was willing to operate illegally, despite his current status as captain of Canderly's guard. But when Florian arrived at Canderly and actually meet_with Howlett, he was disturbed with how bloodthirsty the male was and realized that he was not suitable for the job. If Florian sent Howlett after Keshavi, he would likely return with Keshavi's _skin.

Florian then gave up the chase for Keshavi - if only temporarily - and decided to visit with Jule and the McIntyres at Canderly. He and Jule weren't exactly friends, but both of them were troubled males who hated their fathers and had commiserated over the fact before. They loved to party together and had even slept together on occasion. After meeting with Howlett and rejecting his services, Florian came to Jule in his room and woke up in his bed the next morning with a blaring hangover. Jule was very good at all things oral and for some reason, always loved oral in the morning, be it receiving oral or giving oral. He sucked Florian off so good, Florian knew he was trying to butter him up for something. And then Jule revealed his plans about Maret and Etienne, and Florian knew it was his time to leave.

When Florian rejected Jule's plan, Jule had his bodyguards killed and locked him away in the dungeon. At the time, Florian couldn't decide why Jule didn't just kill him too. He thought it highly unlikely that Jule harbored any affection for him. If anything, he likely just feared bringing down the wrath of Curith on Maldoene. They both knew Adrian didn't care about Florian, but Jule wasn't stupid enough to take the chance that Adrian_did_ care. Jule loved to fuck Florian even if he didn't care about him, and after overhearing some conversations, Florian knew Jule had intended to use Hawkeye to brainwash Florian into his mindless servant and pet. The very idea was horrifying, and Florian knew it was his good fortune that Motsumi had happened along with a grudge.

Florian also knew for a fact_that Maret had _never tasked Jule with marrying Zeinara. The goddess had commanded her worshipper to simply have Zeinara escorted home, but Jule had always been an opportunist, if not a sloppy opportunist. He seized the chance to take the throne by force, bungled it horribly, and now he was dead. Florian couldn't decide if he cared that Jule was dead. It was hard to care when he himself felt dead inside.

Present-day Florian blinked and came back to earth when Shakir took his paw and smiled at him. Shakir was so cute and mischievous, a young and sleek black dog with warm smirking eyes and long, straight, black hair. Florian hated - and loved -- that the poor young male was walking around in nothing but a thong and had given him his coat upon their first meeting. It was after he gave Shakir his coat that Shakir sort of latched onto him, and he couldn't decide if he deserved the dog's affections.

Florian looked away and he wished Shakir didn't remind him so much of Keshavi. Shakir's voice was purring like his ex-lover's, and he even wore glittering golden kohl around his eyes. Pili wore black kohl, as the eyeliner was native to the desert lands. Maldoene was a kingdom that traded heavily with the desert kingdoms - so heavily that many questioned their allegiance to Varimore and the high king. As a result, many desert products (and sex slaves) could be found easily enough in Maldoene and found their way just as easily to the paws of those foxes who traded with dogs. Keshavi had always loved the eyeliner, as it had some myth attached to it about magically empowering those who wore it with the ability to charm anyone and everyone. Florian supposed it was the reason Pili insisted on wearing the kohl constantly: it made her feel powerful. Though Pili probably didn't believe for a second that the kohl was magical, she still clung to a custom from her homeland, as if she were clinging to a lost piece of herself.

It was evening when they finally crossed out of the wetlands. They came to a great lake surrounded by a golden field, and in the center of the lake stood a building. A very narrow bridge stretched from the building all the way to the shore, paved in bright red stones. The building's many overhanging rafters and walkways were dangling with red paper lanterns. The red light gave the place a warm, soothing glow that drew them like moths to a flame after the cold of the wetlands.

"Any of you foxes getting vibes? Anything in there waiting to rape us?" Zeinara asked, her paws in her pockets and a lick of golden mane in her slanted eyes. Beside her, Kayya hugged her arm and looked at the distant building with worry.

Nkwe slowly shook his head, frowning as if he was listening to a distant noise. "It feels alright."

"But let's remain cautious," Azrian added and glanced at Ettoras.

"Agreed," said Motsumi grimly.

They approached the distant building, walking in a line across the narrow walkway. The others were scandalized -- but Florian was delighted -- when they entered the building to discover it was actually a bathhouse with framed depictions of sex acts on the walls. So the ancient foxes had whorehouses but trussed them up like public bathes and were so ashamed of them that they built them in the middle of nowhere? It made Florian chuckle.

The group gathered in the front foyer for supper, where a fire pit blazed in the polished floor, lined with ornate stones. Everyone sat to rest, and Nkwe cooked them hare stew. The hares of the valley were golden, and the stew Nkwe made from them was so sublime,_Florian found himself in an exceedingly good mood. He glanced around and noticed the others were as happy, even the doom and gloom twins Nkwe and Yeneneshe. Palesa actually giggled over supper. _Giggled.

Motsumi suggested that they should all sleep together in the foyer, even if it meant sleeping on the floor. They were still being followed by the creatures, (which seemed to have found their way around the wetlands), so separating could mean losing each other again during an attack. Azrian and Nkwe agreed with Motsumi, though Florian thought the others wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to have some privacy. He saw how disappointed Ettoras and Shakir looked, and Zeinara looked downright angry. They were in a bathhouse_,_ and everyone was aching and filthy and crusted with mud, and yet they could not bathe? When Zeinara announced that she wanted to take advantage of the bathes, Florian readily agreed.

"This place is sturdy enough," Florian protested. "And we're in the middle of a bloody lake. Couldn't really see those fraidy cat monsters crossing the water. How dangerous could it be --?"

"How dangerous indeed," interrupted Yeneneshe darkly. She was huddled in Nkwe's coat and peered at Florian from the hood of it, her long white mane framing her dark eyes in straight curtains.

Florian glanced at Yeneneshe and felt a chill go up his spine. He couldn't stand that girl and could not understand what Ettoras saw in her. Yeneneshe was beautiful, surely. But she was also creepy, brooding, cutthroat, ready to kill anyone and everyone who stood in her way. Florian knew her type. He'd known many a bitter and angry fox warrior at his brothel. And her brother Nkwe was equally as dangerous, if not more so. To Florian's mind, it made perfect sense that Pili and Nkwe should be drawn to each other, and he was privately very glad that Palesa had come to her senses and put her obvious fascination with Nkwe aside.

"Look," Zeinara said impatiently and snapped to her feet. "I'm taking a bath! And no one is going to stop me!"

"Me too," Kayya added. She stood beside Zeinara, and when everyone looked at her, she blushed. "B-Because I'm tired of being filthy!" she burst indignantly. "It's not the reason you think!"

"It's the _exact_reason I think," Pili said darkly. She got to her feet as well, her paw on the dagger in her belt. "I will escort the two of you to a private chamber, where you will bathe and return _immediately_to the foyer."

Zeinara rolled her eyes, but she put her arm around Kayya and guided her from the foyer. Pili followed with a serious expression, her tail low.

"That's a good idea, actually," Palesa said, and when Motsumi looked at her reprovingly, she shrugged. "So long as we go off in groups and meet back here in an hour, we should be okay, right? Florian is right. The creatures can't get inside this place. It's practically a fortress."

"She's right," Nkwe agreed, though he sounded very reluctant. "You can feel how strong the magic is here. Someone put a spell on this place to protect it from an attack. But from who and what? Who would want to attack a . . ."

"Whorehouse?" Florian supplied, holding back a smile.

Nkwe glowered. "Yes. That."

Azrian stood. "I will escort Ettoras and Yeneneshe." She looked at Nkwe. "They will be safe with me."

Nkwe nodded darkly at the fire, but Florian could tell he was pleased by Azrian's suggestion and trying not to show it.

"Come, my son," Azrian said, and Ettoras and Yeneneshe followed her from the foyer.

Motsumi, Palesa, and Nkwe remained at the fire, and none of them looked at Florian and Shakir. Finally, Florian got to his feet and Shakir did likewise. Florian pointedly cleared his throat.

"I hope you aren't off to do what I think you are," Palesa said at once.

Nkwe poked the fire experimentally with his walking stick, and his glower deepened slightly. "You know he is. Why does it matter?"

"Why does it matter?" Florian asked Palesa.

Palesa glanced at Motsumi, who was frowning with disapproval. "We thought you wanted to become a Guide," she said. "You must remain pure for one hundred and six moons --"

Florian was drinking from his flask and nearly spit across the fire. "Pffffpt! You're joking, right?"

Nkwe smiled darkly at the fire. "No. She's not."

"Bloody hell!" Florian said in amazement. "No way I'm doing that."

Florian felt a twinge of guilt when Palesa and Motsumi's ears lowered in disappointment.

"I've already had enough beasts trying to shove me off into a monastery," Florian said apologetically. "I appreciate your teachings, but that can't . . . be my life."

Palesa dropped her eyes and nodded unhappily, and Florian wished there was something he could do to make it better. Watching as Palesa mourned her lover had been more difficult for him than anyone had guessed. To see her with a new reason to be unhappy - and because of him - made him feel terrible.

Palesa's eyes were still down when Nkwe reached over and smoothed a paw down her long gray mane. She gave a reluctant smile, and Florian felt a little better.

Motsumi cleared his throat and got to his feet. "Come, Florian. I will escort you and your friend to one of the bathes. Nkwe and Palesa are capable enough to guard the front door on their own."

Florian didn't argue. He and Shakir followed Motsumi from the foyer. They passed up the glossy halls, and Florian was impressed. The entire place was made of white alabaster that gleamed smoothly, reflecting the warm red light of the paper lanterns like glass. In the first hall, there were many rooms with open circular doorways, each doorway leading to a bath. In the center of the largest hall was a giant public bath with a mosaic flooring. Florian had been to many a modern bathhouse and knew the private baths would be further in. He was right.

The private bathes were still warm with steam after thousands of years of standing unattended. Motsumi found a room where a great mirror on the ceiling reflected the bath below. The room was very small, which gave it a cozy feel. The pool in the center of the floor was round, and benches lined the walls with white towels folded on them neatly. Florian was amused to see a few pale green skirts with golden tassels had been left on the benches, as if the foxes wearing them had stripped naked before disappearing with the rest of the kingdom.

Florian didn't hesitate. He went to the nearest bench and proceeded to take off his clothing, thinking that all he needed now was a good cigar. He was pleasantly surprised when Shakir helped him undress, looking up at him with smirking brown eyes.

"No antics," Florian warned. "We don't need to put on a show for Motsumi."

"I have never seen you naked before," Shakir whispered. "Just seeing you out of your pants will be enough for me . . ." His paws were unbuttoning Florian's pants, and as he spoke, he dragged his fingers against Florian's soft penis, caressing it through the fabric.

"Now, now," Florian scolded and removed Shakir's paw. He and Shakir had never done anything besides the one sudden kiss, despite the fact that they'd had plenty of opportunities to fondle and even go down on each other.

The kiss happened their first night in the valley, when they shared a room with Ettoras and Yeneneshe. Florian awoke shaking from a nightmare. Shakir had wanted to comfort him and was so frantic to do so that he hugged Florian . . . and kissed him on the mouth. It calmed Florian right down, but he had felt confused and uncertain since the night it happened. Shakir was so very young, after all.

Florian pulled Shakir's thong down for him, swallowing hard as the young slave's little brown cock gently slapped free of the fabric. Most male sex slaves were bred to be small, slender, and have little cocks, the logic being that a male sex slave should never be equipped to dominate his male master. A male sex slave was to be fucked and not do the fucking himself. In other words, they were bred to be subservient. So the very thought of making love to Shakir . . . shamed Florian. He didn't want to treat Shakir like his slave - regardless of Zeinara's teasing - and it had always been his intention to liberate Keshavi's tribe. Did they really think they would be whores forever? The night Keshavi left him, he'd come to tell him about the house he'd built for him out on the beach. That house was abandoned now.

"What's the matter?" Shakir whispered as his thong collapsed around his naked ankles. He rubbed his bare thighs together as he stepped out of the thong, and his paw closed on Florian's shoulder. He was frowning and concerned.

"Nothing's the matter," Florian muttered, and without warning, he playfully lifted Shakir over his shoulder and stepped into the bath carrying him.

Shakir's tail flashed and he laughed like a boy. "Florian! Florian, put me down!"

Florian was breathless and laughing when he set Shakir on his feet in the water. A tray of soaps and candles were floating on the water, and they were soaping each other up when they realized Motsumi was sitting on the edge of the bath, trying not to watch them. The older fox had left his deerskin skirt on and his feet were in the water. He sat with his arms folded, looking off, patiently waiting for them to finish.

After twenty years, Motsumi hadn't changed a day, and Florian thought he was still damn handsome. Motsumi was the serious sort of handsome, with slanted eyes that were always thoughtful, a short body that was toned and fit, and a long mane braided with the yellow feathers of Zuu'ma. His belly was rippling, and the bulge beneath it drew Florian's eyes. Florian still remembered sucking his dick, the salty taste of it, and how Motsumi had wriggled and fought, roaring behind his gag, his face red - but from pleasure or from anger, Florian could never say.

Florian felt Shakir watching him and dragged his eyes away. He bowed his head and rubbed the soap between his paws. "What?" he muttered, smoothing the soap over Shakir's thin chest.

Shakir's lips twisted in the usual smirk. "You are attracted to the fox. He is handsome, I agree," he said, and Florian thought he heard a twinge of jealousy. Shakir hesitated and said with a slight frown, "Is it true that you once sucked him?"

Florian's lashes fluttered. "Where . . ." He cleared his throat. "Where did you hear . . ."

"I heard the others talking," Shakir said darkly and dropped his eyes to the water.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Florian lied. Shakir caught his paw and looked him in the eye, and he swallowed miserably. "Really," Florian insisted.

Shakir shook his head. "If you are to be mine," he said, startling Florian, "and if I am to be yours, then we must be honest."

Florian suddenly scowled. "What does it matter if I sucked Motsumi's dick!" he burst - far more loudly than he intended.

Motsumi's ears pricked forward. He looked at them with wide eyes and they saw him blush. He moved to get up.

"No, Motsumi, wait," Florian said and waded through the water to Motsumi. The water was so hot and red from the lantern light, it felt like wading through liquid fire. It was around his waist when he reached the edge of the bath and caught the fox's arm. "Tell Shakir there's nothing between us."

Motsumi nervously shook his head, and Florian couldn't believe it. The fox looked like a girl who'd been caught with her skirt up. His face was getting steadily brighter, and he was still leaning back, as if he would get up and maybe even run. "We both know that's not true - the dreams - what h-happened stayed with me for years . . ." Motsumi babbled. He shook his head again, and his eyes were wide, as if he was begging Florian to release him. "F-Florian!"

Florian's ears pricked forward and he looked at Motsumi in amazement. "Motsumi, what's the matter with you?"

"My, my, my," purred Shakir. He came up beside Florian, his paws on his slender hips. He thrust his hips to the side and folded his arms. "It seems the old fox has a feeling." He glanced down and smirked.

Florian followed Shakir's gaze and went still when he noticed the tent Motsumi had pitched in his skirt. He looked at Motsumi's face again, and the fox seemed so helpless and embarrassed . . . just like that day at Wandourg twenty years ago.

Florian's eyes went back to Motsumi's lap. He swallowed hard, and very slowly, he let the fox's arm go and pushed his skirt up his thighs. Motsumi blushed harder as his erection wobbled out of the fabric, hard and pulsing with veins. He tried to cover it, but Shakir pushed his paws aside.

"Let him," Shakir whispered huskily. "I am certain he is much better after twenty years, no?"

Motsumi's chest heaved and his eyes were pleading. "F-Florian . . ."

"Why don't you run if you don't want it, old timer?" Shakir demanded. He folded his arms, looking bitterly triumphant when he lifted his chin and glared. "Because you do want it!"

Motsumi dropped his eyes. "Yes . . . I do," he whispered shamefully and covered his erection.

Florian's eyes were still on Motsumi's lap. He pushed Motsumi's paws away and leaned between his knees, and after hesitating only a moment, he sucked him, wet and slow. Motsumi frowned and put a shaking paw on Florian's head. He sputtered another soft protest, but Florian's head kept going up and down in his lap, and he closed his eyes and curled his fingers in Florian's mane.

"Goddess, forgive me . . ." Motsumi whispered breathlessly. "Oh . . . oh . . ."

Shakir came up behind Florian, and with narrowed brown eyes, he reached around and gently stroked him. Under the water, Florian felt himself flinching and heaving in Shakir's skilled fingers, and his sucks became fervent when Shakir kissed his neck. With Shakir gently stroking him, Florian ravished Motsumi until the fox gave a breathless cry. Florian pulled back, and the fox's cock twitched and splattered white in his face. But it didn't get soft. Motsumi's face was strained when Florian started kissing and licking his shaft again.

Suddenly unable to take it anymore, Florian pulled Motsumi down in the water, bent him over the edge of the pool, and carefully eased himself home between the fox's muscular buttocks. Motsumi gasped. The fox was incredibly tight, and it immediately came to Florian's attention that he probably hadn't been with anyone in several years. Motsumi blinked as he was filled, and then Florian was riding him gently, steadily, fondling Motsumi in his fingers, until their delighted moans and gasps echoed over the water.

Shakir sat on the edge of the bath, and after watching their humping and panting with narrowed eyes, he settled in front of Motsumi. Florian couldn't see Motsumi's expression as he and Shakir looked at each other, but Shakir was smiling with something like triumph. He grabbed Motsumi by the head and forced his mouth down on his erection. Florian could hear Motsumi sucking and gurgling as if he'd been starved, and Shakir sputtered and frowned in delight as the fox's head moved up and down in his lap.

Florian found himself looking at Shakir as he made love to Motsumi. Shakir looked beautiful sitting there, his expression one of ecstasy as the water plastered his glossy black fur to his body, his long black mane loose around his shoulders, his long lashes fluttering. Florian's eyes narrowed on Shakir's face, and he squeezed Motsumi's hard cock tight in his fingers, pretending it was Shakir's little cock. Motsumi sputtered, and Florian knew he was going to come. He buried kisses in Motsumi's neck and humped him deeper, faster, harder. Motsumi choked as he came in Florian's relentless paw, and Florian's face contorted as he came inside of Motsumi. After the orgasm had trembled through him, he showered Motsumi with lazy kisses, but his hungry eyes were still on Shakir. Shakir peered back at Florian with a smirk and mischievously tweaked his own nipple, dragging his tongue across his fangs.

Darling, don't tease me, Florian thought as the blood rushed again to his penis.

Motsumi wandered listlessly to the edge of the pool and sat, looking tired and defeated, and somehow . . . content.

Shakir was still sitting on the edge of the pool and was still hard. He looked at Florian expectantly. Florian waded toward him through the water and stopped and simply stared at the little brown cock in his face. Shakir's cock was small and pretty, like the rest of him. The smell of it was inviting, slapping Florian's nose in a way that was almost beckoning. Florian wanted to bury his face between Shakir's thighs, wanted to lick and taste and suck, but he just . . . stood there.

Shakir frowned and touched Florian's face. "Florian . . ." he whispered. "Will you leave me to suffer?"

Florian swallowed hard. "I . . . can't."

Shakir's face darkened. "Why can't you? You just did it to Motsumi!"

Ah. So Shakir thought that he would get Florian to sleep with him by easing him into it with Motsumi?

Florian backed away and dropped his eyes to the water. When he didn't answer, Shakir scowled and splashed him in the face. Florian's red mane draped over his eyes, and he listened dismally as Shakir left the room.