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It had been an entire day ordeal, but at last, my preparations had reached their conclusion. I had been hard at work since the early hours before the sun had rose, creating a feast of astounding proportions: a smorgaspord fit to be devoured by royalty. As I, wearing oven mitts protectively over my giant puppy-like paws escorted one last, foil-covered dish to the table, I began removing my apron with a sigh of relief. It had been nice that my co-chef had taken the reigns of working the Christmas Eve rush this year, so that I could stay home and prepare this veritable cornucopia for my wonderful hyena partner. This was our first Christmas together, and while neither of us were particularly religious, there was something about the traditional sense of togetherness that gravitated around this holiday that made me nostalgic.

I rushed to the bathroom, now that preparations were complete, and began looking myself over in the mirror, checking that I was groomed properly for the event. The face that looked back was the absolute opposite of what one expected from a Tibetan mastiff: I'm short and lithe, though toned with the barest hint of tummy. Scrawny is a good word. Girly is a better one. As I turned my head to and fro, using a nearby brush to restrain the wild fluff of my salmon-tinted cheeks, I could see the bits of red indicative of exhaustion just outside the blue of my eyes. Hallie would likely tell me that I shouldn't have worked so hard, but I knew that some things were worth the effort. I shook slightly, my profound mane tossing about before returning to the blossoming, forward sweeping overabundance that it had been before. Then, I ended my self-check by gently wiping a bit of flour off of my slate-blue-skinned nose.

Sighing to calm my nerves, I straightened my over-sized sweater, this particular model being red and depicting a knitted reindeer and some various patterns. Ultimately, it looked somewhat less hideous than any other I had been gifted by my horrible mother over the years. As I exited the bathroom and paced around the penthouse apartment nervously, I ascertained that all of the decorations- the tree, the lights, the candles, and the trinkets and centerpieces- were in place and performing their proper functions. The place was the perfect temperature, had the perfect level of lighting, and despite the bachelor-esque guise of the the furniture and decor, still looked like an exemplary place to spend Christmas.

Done preparing, I took a seat on the couch and sighed a heavy breath for the first time in half of the day, contemplating the evening in my head for about the hundredth time. A soothing glow of red, green and blue cast on the room from the nearby tree, and I inhaled the scent of gingerbread that lingered from the very last bake of the evening. Everything was going exactly as planned: Now all I needed was for my sweet French lover to return home.

I casually returned my glance in the direction of the television, which had been tuned to a channel which simply played relaxing, voiceless holiday jazz to set the mood, and anxiously watched the little clock at the bottom right. 7 o'clock: Hallie would be off work any moment, and would call me on his cell, just like every day. Holding my phone tightly, I waited with growing anxiety as the minutes passed. I had been careful not to tell Hallie about my plans to surprise him with the romantic dinner, and now I was brimming with excitement for the big reveal.

Minutes passed, and before long, the clock read a quarter-of, leaving my heart beating a bit more erratically. The phone in my paws indicated that I had not received any calls, thus far. "Maybe he's still on the phone with a client. Sure! That's happened before. He's probably on his way home, right now!" I nodded to myself in self-affirmation and bounded to the window like an excited puppy, which spanned most of the outward-facing living room wall. Outside, the city of New York spanned far below, shining like a billion stars through the falling snow.

About two hundred feet to the North of our apartment, the subway station where Hallie would be exiting very soon was nearly-visible, though the weather, that evening was making it a bit less-so. I stared intently, looking for the familiar red coat which belonged to my beloved, but it was impossible to see at such an altitude. In this snow, I could barely even make out the shape of the subway entrance, let alone anyone leaving it. I restlessly resumed wandering around the apartment in the circular path that ran from the kitchen to the dining room to the entry and back to the living room again.

At about seven-forty, a call finally came through, the telltale buzzing of my phone on the glass coffee table echoing through the apartment. I was in the process of reheating a few of the platters to occupy my mind when I heard it, and rushed the circle back to the Living room once more. Spotting the familiar picture of the cute hyena boy on the screen and the name 'Hallie,' I forgot any frustration I had accumulated over my boyfriend's tardiness and answered the phone, a blue finger pad sliding the call indication to 'answer.'

"Hey sweetheart!" I bubbled excitedly, clutching my phone as though I were resting my cheek against my lover.

"Bojour, Mon Chiot. Did you have a good day at work?" came a tired voice on the line.

I grit his teeth from a mixture of guilt and anticipation, feeling suddenly like a fool for not saying I had been off work that day. The very untruth I had attempted to use to aid in this momentous surprised had ultimately been the undoing of the entire evening, thus-far.

"It... It was fine," I muttered nervously, then added in a hopeful voice, "Are you going to be home soon?"

There was a silence for a moment, before Hallie sighed, "I.. am afraid I'm going to be here for a while, Mon Chiot. The meeting on the twenty-seventh is something of a serious ordeal, and we are still behind in preparation. I'm trying to get everything done tonight so that we can spend tomorrow together." I wasn't angry. How could I be? He had no intention to shirk all of my hard work and ruin the exciting evening I had worked so hard to create. He was even working hard so that we would have just a bit more time together. This didn't mean that I wasn't disappointed. I felt like a hole had been carved in my heart in an instant, and my joy had been poured out onto the floor.

"O-oh... Okay that's fine, sweetheart. Just be careful coming home, it's a mess out there..." was all I could think to say.

Hallie hesitated, and I wondered if my disappointment had been too obvious. I certainly didn't want to guilt him when he was working so hard. I waited for his next words, and finally received, "I love you, Tibby. We'll have a great Christmas dinner with your family tomorrow." I groaned at the thought of having to see my family the next day: They were insufferable.

I quickly countered my sound of displeasure with, "I love you too.

He playfully added, "Oh... just make sure nobody makes a 'Hallie Jolly Christmas' joke, please..."

I rolled my eyes, despite being unable to see him, "Great, now I have to go out in this storm and buy you another card..."

We both laughed, although mine was a bit more hollow, and then hung up after our 'goodbyes.'

I set my mobile on the coffee table and sighed: It had been about the most disappointing phone call I had ever experienced, and now there I was- all alone with a feast prepared in the other room. I sat alone in the darkness and considered my mistake, allowing a tear or two to wet my cheek in my reflections. When I was done feeling sorry for myself, I stood from the comfort of my pity nest, brushing down my sweater and making my way to the dining room. For the next half hour, I put away all of the food I had prepared, storing it all in the fridge. Everything from the turkey and to the cranberry sauce was stuffed into the refrigerator, while one plate was set aside with a few of Hallie's favorite foods, so that he would have something to eat when he got home. In the back of my forlorn mind, I mentally considered the impossibility that all of the food had managed to fit inside one refrigerator, but didn't bother questioning it.

I walked quietly through the apartment, blowing out the candles to conserve them, moving at a disinterested pace until they were all snuffed. Finally, I returned to the couch where my phone still sat, picking it up and beginning to scroll through my various social media apps. The hot-button topic online today was the weather: apparently one of the worst Christmas blizzards in two decades. Looking outside, I believed it. The flurries were so heavy that they created an almost-wall which reflected back the light from the heavily-decorated fir tree at the corner of the room. I was even beginning to have trouble seeing the brilliant dots of light from the buildings nearby, at least from my current seat.

A midst my regret over the evening's failure, I was beginning to feel the unmistakable anxiety of worry creep into my mind with each new message I read. People were abandoning their cars in the streets, taxis weren't running, and many buildings were becoming completely snowed in all over the city. I wasn't particularly susceptible to cold, given my breed and lineage, but I knew that Hallie was, and as the weather worsened, I was becoming truly afraid that he might not be home that night. News updated slower and slower with each passing minute, until I found myself constantly refreshing the screen to no avail. I realized that it would do no good to dwell on any of it, and resolved to distract myself from my doldrums. I could play a video game or maybe watch a television show. I could read a book, perhaps; anything to take my mind off of my worry.

I lifted my sweater over my head, beginning to feel overheated between my thick, mastiff fur, the heavy sweater, and temperature control in the apartment. I sprawled out on the couch, combing my digits through the thick fur of my mane until it fluffed out properly. On the television, a piano version of 'O Tennenbaum' played, and I quietly hummed along for no reason other than the reflex of syncing my voice with something familiar. By the time the song ended, and the track switched over to an acoustic rendition of 'We Three Kings,' I had burrowed my back into the wedge where the cushions of the couch met, my arms crossed over the exposed skin of my nipples and my face half-buried in the black, faux-suede pillow. I inhaled the pillow which, like most everything in this apartment, had belonged to Hallie before I had moved in. It smelled like him and served to both settle me, and remind me of the disappointment of the evening. I breathed deep of his scent one more time, before releasing the breath in a loud exhale: It was comforting.

I reached for the remote halfheartedly, wishing to silence the music that held no meaning to me beyond the familiar ambiance of years past, and replace it with something a bit more interesting. My eyes stung from the few tears I'd shed, and I found myself closing them more often, the remote clutched tightly against my body, but being unused as I succumbed to the exhaustion brought about from the busy day I had endured.

I truly hated lying to Tiberius, but I couldn't let him know where I was. I had left work nearly an hour before I called him, and as I hung up the phone, found myself trudging through a thickly-snowed sidewalk of Upper Manhattan. I had come here, after weeks and weeks of speaking to an individual I had met via an online group for chefs, in search of said individual. I didn't know a whole lot about being a chef myself, but I had been searching all through the last two months for the perfect gift for my sweet puppy. Between my busy schedule and various interruptions, it had taken until Christmas Eve to even find enough time to come out here and fetch the gift. There weren't many people along the street, and by now the storm had reached a fever pitch, the snow piling up around my feet so that my boots came up white after each step.

I perused street signs until I spotted the one I was looking for, which read "Greene Avenue," and took a right. Now, I was located in a back alley which only seemed lit by the fragments of light which shone through from the streets at either end. I picked up my phone and dialed the number for the seller, and heard it ring with a common bell ringtone about halfway down the dark corridor. I spotted the light from the phone, and approached, turning on my phone's flashlight for a better look. The person who greeted me raised a hand to shield himself from the bright light, and I was relieved to see that they were exactly the person from their profile image: A tall, masculine buck with a bit of facial fluff in the shape of a beard.

"Daven?" I asked his name instinctively.

"Greetings." he spoke calmly, opening the door to his right, "won't you come inside? It's a frozen nightmare out here." I obliged, although somewhat hesitantly. Inside however, I found that we had entered the back of restaurant which had been closed for the night: his restaurant.

The buck shut the door behind us and took off his coat, then took a moment to regard me curiously, as if confused by the individual who stood before him, "Sorry I...I was... expecting... a man." He said earnestly.

I calmly responded, "I'm male." I was used to this sort of thing: I had always been built thin and girly, and even held astoundingly androgynous facial features and dyed orange and white hair which ultimately led most people to assume I was a very waifish woman. In most cases, I actually enjoyed playing it off as if I were indeed female and often wore skirts and blouses and other clothing simply because I enjoyed them, but with the weather going from inconvenient to hazardous at such a brisk pace, I didn't really have time to play games.

His eyes went wide as my voice gave away my gender, "Oh! I'm sorry!"

I shook my head, nonchalantly, "It's fine. I get it all the time."

He scratched his head at my women's attire a bit and motioned for me to follow him through the kitchen, which was pristine in it's cleanliness and well-stocked. I couldn't see the dining area, but by the size of the kitchen, I knew it couldn't be diminutive, by any stretch. He led me between some shelves containing dry goods until I we reached an office in the back, which he unlocked with a key. This was reassuring as well, as up until this point, I wasn't entirely sure that we had entered this place legally. Another bit of relief came in the form of several articles cut out of the local paper and tacked to the wall, talking about the restaurant and featuring images of the buck.

He began circling around to the back of the office desk, which lay cluttered with paperwork, and I inquired, "business must be good if you're closed on Christmas Eve. Are you going home to be with your family after this?"

He shook his head and placed a large, steel briefcase onto the desk, "My family is all overseas. I came here as a young man and never settled down."

I felt a little bad for the guy, but I also understood how he felt. Since moving from France, I had spent several years keeping to myself and focusing on my career. Tiberius was the first time that I had felt the need to- no, the pleasure of opening myself up to another person, emotionally. There was something about starting over in a new country that made such things that much harder. I looked to the briefcase that was presented to me, curiously. "So... this is it huh?"

He nodded and opened the briefcase, which contained a layer of foam separating the case itself from the ornate, wooden box within. He unlatched the wooden container and opened it to reveal the contents inside. The sheen of the cutlery inside was a sight to behold, even to someone as unversed in the ways of culinary arts as myself. I stepped closer and began to study one of the knives within, lifting the lightweight blade and searching for some of the telltale flaws and signature features I had read about in my weeks of research.

"Genuine Bordeaux. 1984. I was gifted them by Gregor Bordeaux, himself, when I graduated from school that year." His voice was solemn; reflective.

"Are you sure this is something you are willing to sell?" I asked, obviously quite sure that he was feeling regrets. They were the genuine article, there was no doubt about it. These knives could be sold for thousands of dollars to the right bidder, and he was offering them to me at an absolutely unheard of rate.

He nodded his head and sat at his desk, rifling through some paperwork, "This gift was given to me by my chef, Gregor Bordeaux. When he handed this box to me, he told me that he wanted it to inspire me to work hard and strive to be great."

"That seems pretty important..."

"A few weeks ago I read about a star chef at a little hole in the wall restaurant down in the Bronx. Four months ago, that restaurant had been declared a disaster and was about to be closed down, and yet here it was, in the newspaper, rising from the ashes."

I knew he was talking about the restaurant that had hired Tibby, and I smiled a little, with pride.

"The papers said your boyfriend is a culinary failure, by academic standards. He couldn't cut it for his chef and was forced to quit school in disgrace to work menial jobs to support himself. It said when he met you, you encouraged him to put himself out there and pursue his dream. When you started asking about these knives in the forums, it didn't take long for me to figure out what your boyfriend was the young man turning the Bronx on its end."

"That's all well and good, but it doesn't explain why you're practically giving away something of such value that was gifted to you by your teacher."

"My Chef took me under his wing because I had been rejected by my first chef, back in Italy. He believed in me and gave me a chance, and now I am a success. Everyone needs someone to believe in them, and these knives should always be given to someone who needs that chance."

I felt the sting of tears in my eyes, and blinked them away as fast as I could. "Thank you, Chef Daven. This means a lot to me, and I know it will mean the world to Tiberius, as well." He closed up the case with a smile and then slid the knives across the counter, to me. I deposited the funds online over the next few moments, and then nodded to confirm it had been done.

He offered a chuckle, "It's been a pleasure doing business with you. Tell that boyfriend of yours that he's got a fan who's rooting for the underdog."He escorted me to the door, showing me out without much left to say and I gave him a firm handshake before setting off for home.

The streets were coated in white now, and abandoned cars lined up and down, covered in a thick blanket of snow. The ice on the sidewalk was worn down, packed into a sheet as the foot traffic continued to create the hazard. I slipped past struggling pedestrians and kept to the thick pillows of snow in order to avoid slipping until I reached the subway entrance. I stood at entrance, pulling out my phone in order to give Tibby a call before I was lost to the dead zone that was the underground tunnels. I discovered that my call had gone to voicemail and frowned in disappointment. Still, I left him a pleasant voicemail and assured him that I was on my way home. I decided that I should tell him the truth about my evening in case it took me a while to return. With nothing more I could do, I descended the stairs to the station.

I stopped about mid-flight, watching as a crowd of disgruntled patrons began approaching my location from the subway gates. Some were still angrily arguing with the transit police, and I overheard a man yelling about how his family was in Long Island. I didn't even have to ask why everyone was so upset: the trains were down. I rubbed by face in frustration, dragging my fingers over my eyelids and cheeks before meeting below my chin. My apartment was a near three-hour walk from this point on a clear day. With weather restrictions and obstacles, I couldn't imagine how long it would take to get to Lower Manhattan. I checked my phone for battery life, seeing that it was at around twenty-five percent, and chanced turning on the GPS to navigate me a route that would give me plenty of opportunities to check new subway stations.

I had to get back home, I had expensive cargo and a handsome boy waiting for me. I flipped on the GPS, which estimated my time at two hours and fifty-minutes, and began pushing forward, determinedly. I had no choice: I was going to walk home.

I awoke about an hour later, feeling delirious from such an unsatisfying nap, and rolled to my feet with a dreary yawn. The television was still playing easy-listening renditions of Christmas music, and I felt the unconscious annoyance one felt when they had been lucidly sleeping with a DVD top menu playing on loop in the background. Feeling about for the remote, I silenced the music which had become a nuisance to me and flipped the television off completely. I hadn't fallen asleep in the best of states and I hadn't woke any better. I hadn't even slept well, and now with everything lining up in such a dismal manner, I was left grumpy.

I checked my phone, discovering that it had died at some point during my slumber and groaning. If Hallie had called me, I wouldn't have even known. With the minuscule amount of motivation that still remained within me, I dragged myself to the easy chair by the balcony door and set my phone upon the wireless charging dock, waiting until it reached 1% before flipping it on long enough to check messages: I had a missed call from Hallie. This filled me with just enough excitement to begin pushing away my doldrums ever-so-slightly. I set the phone on the charging dock and began scrolling through the menus until I reached my voice mailbox. I had six unheard messages, two were from Hallie from several days earlier, and the next three were from my sister and mother at different times, whom I had spoken to since receiving them.

Around me, the remaining lights in the apartment went out. The tree, the clocks, any lights I had left on in other rooms: They had all flickered and gone dark. My phone no longer displayed the little lightning bolt that indicated it was charging, and I realized that my phone had ceased charging at two percent.

"No, no! Don't you dare!" I growled at the device as I began rushing to delete the old messages.

"Bonjour Mon Chiot, I-..." I erased it, and waited for the electronic voice to give me the rundown of the next message. Did I really have to hear the time it was sent and number it came from EVERY time?!

"Bonjour Mon Chiot, can you-..." Delete. This wasn't going to work.

The numbers beside the battery symbol ticked down to 1% as my Sister's voice ran in next, "Tiiiibbyyyy-..." Delete. She was infuriating to listen to.

"Tiberius, your father wants-..." Delete.

Tiberius, please call-..." Delete. My foot was tapping anxiously, paw pads and claws digging into the carpeted floor as the message I sought began to play.

"Bonjour Mon Chiot," I rolled my eyes, while simultaneously smiling endearingly: he always began messages with that term of endearment, "I'm sorry for being out so late. I lied to you. I wasn't at work, I was visiting this guy-..." My heart was in my throat as the message cut off, and I flipped my phone in my hand to see if I had been too late. I was punctual enough to see the log-off screen.

I dropped my phone to the carpet at my feet and stared blankly out into space. "He went to... see another guy?" I whimpered the words at no one in particular, hypnotized by my own regret so that I gazed, zombified at the snow falling outside. It was dark, as there was no light coming from our building, and the city block seemed to have been snuffed out, so that the first buildings with lights were almost a hundred feet away. I snapped out of my surprise and shook my head. No, he wasn't cheating. Why would he have even told me? Unless the call was to break up... was he going to be coming home at all, tonight? Was I going to be alone on Christmas? Had I spent my entire day working on a surprise for someone who was done with me?

Thoughts cycled through my head and I fought against the idea that my beloved might be with another man. I wasn't sure how I felt about him having sex with another man. We'd even joked about it, and talked about being in an open relationship. Now however, he had felt the need to lie to cover up his involvement. Nobody lies unless they are ashamed of what they're doing.

"Mon Chiot." That was what he'd said, "My Puppy." He'd been calling me that since the night we had first met. He'd met me tending bar in a dive of a strip club that specialized in small, young-looking boys like me. He'd come in on the recommendation of a coworker, and arrived when both the chef and the bartender were on lunch. This had left him at the mercy of a young man who couldn't mix a martini to save his life: me. He had been kind, despite my obvious discomfort for the job I had been set to do, and even thanked me for the poorly-mixed drink.

He ordered a burger, and without the recipe set out before me, I was forced to make a burger of my own design. It turns out, that was the best decision I could've made, because he came back every day after that. It was that night that he had whispered the words 'Mon Chiot.' to me in my tiny studio apartment, and although I didn't have the slightest inclination as to the meaning of the phrase, the sound of his beautiful French accent and the warmth of his hot breath in my half-flopped ear was the greatest sensation I had ever felt, both physically and emotionally. I nodded my head to no one but myself: There was absolutely no way that he would have called me that in the message on just reflex. He loved me, I was sure of it.

Looking outside at the dark stretches of street, something different began to surface amid the pools of doubt: Worry. The blizzard was coming down hard out there and Hallie wasn't designed to be out in this sort of weather. I resolved, at that moment that I would hear the rest of the message, and jumped from the chair, making my way to the bedroom. Inside I slipped on a new sweater over my thick fur, my mane becoming disheveled in the process of pulling it over my head. I needed to know where he was. I needed to know he was safe.

Closing the door behind me, I rushed into the hallway and down the hall until I reached the elevator. Which I attempted to use, completely forgetting that the building was without power. It took a moment for the obvious issue behind the long wait to sink in, and I rolled my eyes, mostly at myself. The hall was dark, which should have been an easy indication of what was preventing my escape. I hurried down the hall until I reached the door to the stairwell and took one long, deep breath. It was forty stories down to street-level, and I wasn't the strongest runner in the world. This was important, I assured myself before beginning my descent. The stairwell was lit by emergency lights, but they were as dim and nearly-useless as those that lit the outside hallway, so I paid careful attention to my footing as I began my trip down the stairwell.

It only took twenty-five floors before I began to feel the effects of fatigue. As my claws scratched the cement stairwell with each step, it loudly reminded me that pain was beginning to form in the backs of my thighs and in my calves. I pushed on, despite the cramping and made a mental note that I needed to start exercising again, as soon as Christmas was over. When had I let myself atrophy so badly? I dismissed the question, as I didn't have time to think about that.

Thirty floors down, now. I was on the tenth floor, and my lungs were starting to burn. I felt myself slowing unconsciously, exhaustion gripping my body with each new step I took. I was scolding myself, internally for having not paced myself better. I neared floor two and was panting heavily, my heart racing and my blood pumping faster than it had since I had worked as a dancer, months before. As I felt my blue pads reach the last step, I lurched forward, hanging over the stair railing to catch my breath for a moment. My legs felt like gelatin, and I struggled to keep myself aloft.

A short break later, and I was on my way again, and I pushed the door for the emergency exit at the stairwell. Now, I encountered a new obstacle: the door wouldn't budge. I pushed again, and heard a crunch as the door slid about an inch, bits of crushed snow sliding into the room from outside. "Oh for the love of..." I groaned. I began shoving my shoulder into the door, but without shoes, I couldn't dig my heels into the floor as strongly as I might have wished . The door managed to open about four inches, the snow outside crunching as it was forced ever-outward, but finally came to a stop with the amount of pressure I could present in my current state.

The obvious answer came to me a moment later, and I sighed shutting the exit and turning toward the other door, which led into the ground floor hallway. How could I be so stupid? First the Elevator and now this? Maybe Hallie really was leaving me. I was clumsy; I was impulsive; I never thought things through. To anyone else, I might just be called an idiot. I knew I had my mental condition to blame for a lot of my spaciness and odd behavior, but that was no excuse!

The thick glass double doors at the main entrance, as I expected, were completely unimpeded, as the awning above it had distributed any falling chunks of snow to either side of the door so that only a couple of inches of the white powder had actually built up in the walkway. I pushed the door open and rushed out into the street. My paws touched frozen cement, and my pads tensed slightly. I registered the horrible cold, but with my breed lineage, I was wholely unphased by it. I locked my eyes on the closest building with power, The Grande Lucinda Hotel two blocks down, and began running as quickly as my legs would allow. After all I had done to this point, this was the home stretch.

Outside, people still filled the streets, some wandering about at this hour with a sense of purpose and others just wanting to see the disaster unfolding. I noticed, in my approach, that a great many people had gathered in the rotunda of the hotel, including some local shop owners from various corners of the blocks who were handing out bottles of water to one another while they stayed warm inside, cowering from the elements just outside the doors. The hotel didn't seem to be turning anyone away, and while some people were purchasing rooms to stay in for the evening, possibly caught far-from-home during this mess, others were camping in the lobby and convention space to stay safe.

I wandered inside, dressed as I was for a much-less-debilitating cold, and garnered a few odd looks as I passed. I rushed to the nearest phone jack, apologizing to a family of four that was seated beside it, and quickly plugged my phone into the wall, sighing as I rested against a nearby wall. I felt exhausted and my body was labored and sore from the stiff cold and the climb down from the fortieth floor. On top of everything, I was still tired from my whirlwind day of preparation. I looked around the room and found that, despite the dismal situation many of the hotel occupants were now facing, nobody around me seemed to be in poor spirits.

I'm not a spiritual or religious person, but I do believe in the power of many people together sharing a common sense of togetherness, and a holiday is the perfect sort of environment to turn a freak blizzard like this into an opportunity to be there for one another. There were people laughing and cheering. People singing carols filled various pockets of the population. The poor and the well-to-do alike had found themselves nestled in the lobby of the hotel whom had even taken in those without homes. I knew this was not the face of the city on most days, and yet I was proud to see such humanity displayed before me, if only for a night.

I checked my phone and found that it had reached fifteen percent, and quickly dug up the message I had failed to hear before. I held the phone to my ear as my voicemail rang, taking a deep breath while I awaited the transition from 'new messages' to 'skipped messages.' There was a bit of static at first, followed, finally by the familiar voice of my favorite hyena.

"Bonjour, Mon Chiot. I'm sorry for being out so late. I lied to you. I wasn't at work, I was visiting this guy in North Manhattan to pick up a special gift for you. I'm on my way now, and I hope to be home soon. I'm heading into the subway so you may not be able to reach me for a while. I love you."

The call ended, and I sighed in relief, falling back against the wall behind me. I was stupid to have not trusted him, and now felt guilt crawling into my chest like a silent thief.

A tap came on my shoulder, and I twisted my neck to see a woman just a bit older than myself peering at me with a face of concern. She was a bovine of some sort, and had a very motherly look about her. In her arms she was holding a small child who had fallen asleep from the excitement of the evening, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I overheard that message. The subway trains aren't running right now. Whoever that was might be stranded at whatever point in town they called you from."

My face turned to worry, and I nodded in appreciation for the information, "Thank you for letting me know." I decided it best to try calling him back: with him not being below ground, after all, he might have been within range of receiving a call. Unfortunately, the call went straight to voicemail, indicating a lack of service or a dead battery. I pulled my legs to my chest and rested my head atop my knees. The voice from behind me came again.

"Couldn't get ahold of him? Don't worry! I'm sure that there are people all over the city taking in stranded people out of the cold. Wherever he is, I am sure he's safe."

I was sure she was right, and responded with a polite nod, "Yeah... there's a lot up that way, I'm sure he will find a safe place to wait out the storm." I wanted him safe, but I also wanted him here. I was left to quietly plan my next move: I could stay put and wait until his phone was working again, or I could endure the walk back to our apartment and the climb the nightmare of steps to the fortieth floor again. For the moment, I opted to rest. I had no inclination as to his location, so for the moment there was nothing more I could do.

I had been walking for nearly an hour when my phone had finally died. Thankfully, I had been careful to set myself onto a course that would put me directly at the apartment before it had dropped off. I was in a fairly quiet area of town, most of the buildings around me appearing to be older, somewhat unkempt and of residential use. By now, I had traversed no less than ten blocks that were without power intermittently in my walk, and was glad to be back where there were working street lights again. It wasn't that I was afraid of the dark or even worried about being mugged, but it really slowed me down having to watch my footing in the sections of grid with no power.

I'd had time to think as well, and I had thought long and hard about Daven, and about how he was going to be spending Christmas alone. It wasn't that I had any attachment to the holiday myself, but there was something about being alone when the rest of the city was celebrating camaraderie that left some people feeling a bit left out. I wasn't going to assume that he would be the type to feel this way, but I still felt that it wouldn't hurt to invite him to join Tiberius and I for Christmas dinner the following day. This would, of course require me to have a charged phone, and would have to wait until I returned home. By now, the snow appeared to be calming somewhat, and I wondered how long until the city would be under control once more Certainly there were a lot of sections of town that were without power. On top of that, the streets were piled so high with snow that entire car tires were submerged. It would be no easy task correcting all of the quiet mayhem.

By now, I had gone from trudging through the icy sidewalk to having to take long, heavy strides so as to not trip myself in the thick ice powder that had piled up on the untraveled section. With no way to keep track of the time now, I simply kept walking, my eyes scanning the buildings for anything familiar. By now, my feet felt sore, sweaty, and frozen all at once, and my shins had grown pained from the type of exaggerated steps I had been taking over the last hour or so. My warm clothing was beginning to protect me less and less with prolonged exposure to the cold, and I realized that I should have stopped to warm myself in any of the few small commercial buildings I had passed some time before. Rubbing my paws together to regain feeling had become a regular activity at this point, so I resolved to stop at the very next available opportunity.

I checked the street sign nearby uselessly, knowing that there was no way I would possibly recognize it even as I read the words 'Grant Street.' Tilting my head up to see the green sign exposed it to the incoming wind made worse by the gauntlet of buildings. I closed my eyes as the brisk, icy air stung my face, and quickly lowered my head, allowing my jacket hood to absorb the brunt of the onslaught once again.

In the distance, I had noticed a large, glowing building which I ascertained to be The Grande Lucinda Hotel. I was in the home stretch. I pushed my walk a bit harder, forcing my way through the snow and slush toward that towering beacon of hope in the distance. Building after building I passed as the world around me became brighter. Nearby businesses began to appear sporadically among the residential doors, adding more light to the street via their display windows. I was reaching a more congested area of town, and now began to see people out walking the streets more frequently, regardless of the troublesome weather.

Many nearby shops were filled to the brim with displaced patrons, most waiting for the nearby station to begin running trains again. Spotting the familiar sight of Lou's Deli, I resolved to stop and warm my bones. Approaching the door, which was too plastered with fliers and signs to allow inside visibility, I pushed, finding that it barely budged before an 'oof' sounded from inside as it hit someone. Whoever it was, they didn't move, and I could hear what sounded like an immense crowd inside. I tried wedging myself through the door, but found that the place was just too congested to enter and eventually gave up. The same seemed to apply to most of the businesses on the main stretch, and I simply forced myself to keep moving.

Soon, the grandiose hotel came up on my left, and I sighed in relief as the crowded place seemed to have plenty of standing room. Exhausted, half frozen, and sore, I staggered into the rotunda and flopped down on the floor beside the front door, holding the case containing Tiberius' present in my lap. I only had a few blocks more to endure until I'd be home, but I had noticed, while I was outside, that everything beyond the hotel had lost power. I hoped that Tiberius was okay, and opted to only rest for a moment.

Resting my head against the wall, I sighed. I silently scolded myself for forgetting my phone charger at work, wishing that I could call Tibby and hear his voice.

"Yeah, he probably forgot his phone charger. He does that a lot."

"Yeah. That's what he'd say." I drearily chuckled to myself, until a subconscious thought bubbled into my frost-addled mind. That wasn't in my head at all. I listened to the noisy crowd that had overtaken the hotel lobby, and soon, I heard his voice again.

"You guys have been stuck here for a while. You should come back to our apartment so that your daughter can sleep comfortably until the trains start running." That was definitely Tiberius' voice. I leaned forward where I was perched so that I could see around the crowd of chairs to my left. There, I spotted him in the floor, dressed in a sweater and talking to a young bovine I didn't recognize.

I stood up, still stiff from the cold, and made my way to him, pausing as I stood over the distracted mastiff, my hands on my hips and a metal briefcase by my side as I gave him a discerning look. "Ahem."

Tiberius turned slowly, and seemed to have a delayed reaction to seeing me standing over him. His mouth moved slightly, as if attempting to form words, before he blurted out, "Hallie! Hi!" An instant later he was on his feet with his arms tightly wrapped around my neck. There was a heavy breath as he pressed his muzzle into my neck, taking in my scent before exhaling it out in a sigh. "I missed you."

I laughed and returned the embrace before gently pushing him off, "So what are you doing out here?"

He pointed to his phone which sat attached to the nearby wall. "My phone died and the power is out in the apartment." I responded with a light nod before calmly unplugging his phone and plugged mine in, placing his in his paw. He stuck his tiny blue tongue out at me, playfully, then motioned to the young mother he had been talking to. "By the way, this is Samantha and Rosette. They've been here for like four hours now."

I reached my paw out and politely shook the mother, Samantha's hand, "A pleasure to meet you." The child in her arms stirred grumpily, whining a bit as she rolled so that her face was buried in her mother's sweater.

Samantha laughed slightly, "She's really tired, sorry. It is wonderful to meet you as well." Samantha was around our age, perhaps only slightly older, but her daughter was clearly past the toddler stage. I noticed that she didn't have a ring on her finger, and deduced that she must have been a single mother who had bore her baby some time fresh out of high school.

"So, what were you doing over this way that you got trapped?" I inquired, plopping down on the ground next to Tiberius, who now found himself practically draped over my shoulder.

She gently stroked her daughter's hair, "Rosette's school had us come up this way for some supplies. I had hoped to make it back to the Bronx before the storm hit, but..."

I nodded, "Yeah they say it hit land an hour earlier than anyone expected. Well, I agree with Tiberius: A hotel lobby is no place for a child to sleep. Why don't you two stay in our place? We have a spare bedroom you can use."

She gave me an appreciative look, her eyes showing her apprehension of my offer while she smiled anyway, "That's kind of you, but I wouldn't want to be a bother. Rosette is a handful when she isn't asleep."

I shook my head and waved dismissively, "I have handled plenty of children in my day. I'm sure your daughter is an angel." I put an arm around Tiberius and held him a bit closer, before continuing" Listen, I understand you are a bit nervous staying with strangers, but it's Christmas, and no child should be stuck sleeping on an uncomfortable chair in a hotel lobby on Christmas."

She looked as though she were considering the idea, and then Tiberius added, "I'm a chef, and I made a bunch of delicious Christmas food!"

I blinked, "When did you have time to do that?"

He sheepishly averted his gaze, "So... I stayed home from work today to make you a nice dinner, but when you told me you had to stay out, I ended up putting it all in the fridge." Suddenly, I felt horrible. He'd gone through all of that effort and I had ruined the surprise,

"Oh, Tibby. I'm so sorry!"

He shook his head, "No! It's okay! If I had just told you about it, it would have been fine. It's all circumstantial."

Samantha giggled a bit, "I guess it would be nice to have a warm bed for the evening. Didn't you say the elevator in your apartment is out though? I don't know how we'll get Rosette up forty flights of stairs..."

"Elevator should be fine," I shrugged, "It runs on the backup power like the emergency lights."

Tiberius glared at me in a way that was anything but angry, "Now hang on, I waited for that elevator for five minutes and nothing came..."

"Backup generator takes about ten minutes to start up. Were you in a hurry?"

Tiberius groaned and flopped down on the floor, "you mean I ran down forty floors and got shin splints for nothing!?"

"I playfully pat his chest, "It's okay, at least you can take the elevator back, right?" I only got a grumble from him. We all picked up our things and made our way for the door. Rosette was on her feet, and looking about in a dreamy haze. Tiberius clung tightly to me as we walked, which made the process of moving a bit less stable, though I didn't really mind. Ten minutes later and we were back in the apartment. The power was still out, but it still felt nice to be home, regardless. Samantha thanked us again for our kindness, and ushered her daughter to the spare bedroom, after inquiring as to it's location.

The very instant we were alone, I felt the weight of another person pulling me down as my partner's arms and legs entangled my waist and chest tightly. I rolled my eyes playfully by the light of my cell phone flashlight, and wrapped my arms around him, the light disappearing as I used either paw to support him by his taut rump. "Yes, Hi. I'm glad to see you t-oomph!" I was cut off as a blue tongue was suddenly thrust into my open maw, the remaining, garbled sounds escaping my mouth and becoming trapped in his own. He whined against my lips and I laughed slightly, releasing his bottom and allowing him to return to standing. "Honey, I love you but I really need to eat something."

He looked to be a combination of disappointed and hurt, and added, "well... I have a lot of food in the fridge, but I don't know if we should be opening it when we don't have the power to cool it back down again. Not to mention the microwave and oven won't work until we get the power up again.

As if on-cue, the apartment lights flickered, and within a moment or two, returned fully. Tiberius groaned loud enough that our guest for the evening could likely hear it down the hall, "I guess this is as good a time as any to get power back." he grumbled and went to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. While he was busy, I made my way to the tree in the living room and set the metal briefcase beneath it. The wall clock, which ran on battery, now ticked off one-fourteen AM, and I found myself surprised to find that Christmas day had started nearly an hour before.

From the kitchen, I could hear a quiet humming, and approached the room curiously, tip-toeing my paws over the wood floors until I was close enough to make out the familiar sound of 'O Christmas Tree. Tiberius couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but he had a cute little voice that I loved to hear, even a-melodically. Peeking around the corner, I saw him with the oven on and every burner on the stove covered in either a pan or skillet. He was moving from dish to dish, as though the timing and attention needed for each was simplistic enough to be dealt with subconsciously and without a timer. I stepped into the doorway and leaned on it, watching him cook quietly.

Perhaps it was all the heat from the stove and oven; perhaps it was being in a sweater all day with that thick, winter coat of his; whatever the reason, Tibby quickly disrobed from his sweater, revealing the sinewy musculature of his thin frame and the thick mane that mohawked up from his tail. I was surprised, with a guest in the house, that he would be so quick to undress in the main area. The humming continued as he continued to return life to the various foods he had created that afternoon. The smell of turkey, stuffing, and bread all hit me, first, and I was nearly intoxicated as awareness to my hunger became more prevalent in my mind.

His curled, mastiff tail began to sway behind him as he wiggled his butt to whatever unfamiliar song he was humming to now. I tried to place the tone, but was a bit too distracted with staring at the swaying backside to actually focus my attention on the thought. Big, puppy paws slid behind his back without much thought, and flipped the button for the band which connected over the top of his tail, allowing the appendage to sway more freely and causing the denim garment to droop an inch or more, revealing the slightest valley of his shapely ass.

At this point, I was certain that it was all a show. He knew I was watching. "How long have you known I was here?"

He peered back over his shoulder, looking at me with his big blue eyes and grinning devilishly, "Honey, I could practically smell you in the other room."

I lifted a brow, "Are you saying I need a shower." I knew what he meant. Tiberius suffered from FIDS, or Feral Identity Disassociation Syndrome. This condition was rare among canines and almost unheard of among anyone else, and left him with an enhanced sense of smell, akin to a feral dog. The flip side was an excitable, distracted personality and near-feral behavior. Once, I had seen Tiberius take off after a wild squirrel for almost fifty feet before realizing what he was doing. It was cute sometimes, such as when he would go vegetative from belly rubs, but keeping him from launching himself into a busy street was anything but exhilarating.

He made a fluid motion of flipping off all four burners and turning off the oven with a 'beep,' then spun on his right paw to face me. With a sashaying little walk, he approached, hand slipping down the hem of my work pants as he gazed into my eyes with his icy blue pools. "I'm sure you do, but that's not what I meant." He pressed his nose into my neck again and sniffed gently with that powerful, canine nose of his, "mmm. I wait all day for that scent, you know... is that strange?" he went from alluring to nervous in a split-second.

I chuckled, "Maybe if you weren't a dog." I received a lick to my neck, which started at my collarbone and moved slowly through my fur until it reached the back of my jawbone. Once the questing tongue reached its destination, sharp little canines raked through my fur, nibbling tenderly against my jaw. I shuddered in response, which was exactly what Tiberius had been looking for. He left me, an instant later, returning to the stove to begin plating food.

Fishing out three of our nicer plates, Tiberius prepared turkey, stuffing cranberry sauce, a casserole dish that smelled of with cheese and vegetables, and rolls that I would never have thought had been made several hours ago onto my plate and spun around excitedly, holding it out to me. "Here! There's also corn, green beans, and a slow roasted ham in the fridge... as well as a surprise dessert!"

I took the plate graciously and peered at it, giving my lover a confused expression as he began preparing his own plate, "Honey... I do appreciate all of this, but when did you think we'd be able to eat it all?" The plate was piled so high that I wasn't particularly sure how I'd be able to finish just the amount of food I had been gifted.

Tiberius wiggled his big, puffy tail back and forth excitedly, "Well, most of this food will keep for at least a week, and I figured I'd give about a fourth of it to my family for dinner. I think it'd get eaten in that time frame." He knew me well enough to know that I was a fiend for his cooking, and as the smell of turkey and fix-ins met my olfactory senses, I knew that I would be happily indulging in the leftovers for as long as I could. I plopped down in one of our bar chairs which ran parallel to the bar-top separating the kitchen from the dining room area we never used. He approached from the kitchen side and slid his plate across, removing his apron and setting it upon the counter top, "Do you think our guests will be hungry?"

I chuckled as I took my first bite of the casserole dish which, as I had expected, was fantastic. "I'm not sure... but you might want to put your shirt back on and pull up your pants in case they do."

He looked down at his jeans, which were hanging haphazardly off his hip, revealing the purple boxer-briefs underneath. "Oh, right."

As if on cue, a voice came from behind him, "That's okay. Rosette is out cold, and I assure you that you don't need to deviate from your own comfort for me." We both spotted Samantha entering the kitchen, and I smiled.

Tiberius was the first to greet her, "Hi! Can I get you some food?"

Samantha looked dubious, "as long as it's not a bother..."

He rushed to the stove and began preparing a third plate before she was even done speaking, "Not at all! I made way too much!"

Clearing my mouth of the last, gigantic bite of food, and motioned to my partner with a chuckle, "He's a chef. This will be the best food you've ever had outside a restaurant." She looked as though she were either impressed or disbelieving, and appreciatively took the plate, opting to stand while she ate. She leaned against the fridge, and Tiberius bounded over to plop down beside me at the bar, digging into his food as though it were the first thing he'd eaten in a year.

Dinner was in silence. It wasn't that it was awkward or strange, but rather that we were all so famished from the ordeal that we were too busy refueling to talk. From time to time, I'd reach over and squeeze Hallie's leg affectionately. He was pretty accepting of the fact that I become a bit needy for attention when he is around, and would occasionally give me a smile.

Sam was the first to break the silence, giving a nod and an impressed raise of her brows as she motioned around her. "You two have a really nice apartment. Is being a chef really that profitable?"

I laughed sheepishly, "Nah. I mean it's okay, but Hallie is the bread-earner. This was his place before we were even in a relationship." I didn't bother explaining how I had live in a dirty, studio apartment in one of the worst parts of town before we met. I also thought it best not to mention that, before I was a chef, I was working as an exotic dancer and serving horny patrons in a thong.

Her eyes swiveled to Hallie and I knew what the next question was going to be, "What do you do, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Magic." He answered the question plainly, and it left the room in a dead silence as Samanthra seemed to be considering whether or not he was serious. To be truthful, I still don't know what Hallie does for a living, beyond the fact that he works on the upper floors of the Xentek Corporation building downtown. I knew he wasn't engaged in anything illegal, as I'd visited him at work multiple times and found everything to be pretty average for a corporate environment. I've always just assumed that he felt his job wasn't interesting, so he just says 'magic' to alleviate the necessity of explaining it to people who wouldn't care.

Sam looked to me like I was going to explain a joke she didn't understand and I shook my head out of view, as if to say 'don't ask.' Hallie had finished his food, which was astounding from a guy who was barely larger than myself, and began cleaning his dishes. As Samantha finished her own plate, she did the same, joining him at the sink while I sat quietly at the bar. I was never a fast eater. Our guest looked up from the dishwasher where she placed the rinsed plate, smiling to both of us, despite the awkwardness that had fallen following Hallie's job response, "Well, thank you both for your hospitality. I'm feeling a bit tired now, so I'm going to turn in for the night."

She headed out, her hooved feet clomping along the floor as she returned to the guest room. I turned to Hallie when she was out of range and chuckled, "Honey, you could have just told her what you do for a living."

He shrugged, "I did. Anyway it really is getting late. Let's head to bed." I nodded, feeling exhausted, and quickly did away with my own dishes before rushing to the bedroom.

Inside, Hallie had already removed all of his work clothes, which lay strewn about the bedroom floor, as he often did when he was tired. I groaned and began picking up the discarded skirt and business top, affixing them to a nearby hanger to be delivered to the dry cleaners at a later date. As I hung the used clothing by the door to the hallway, I could see my handsome hyena from the back, standing at the bathroom counter. Inside, I could make out the sound of bristles over teeth, and concluded that he was adequately distracted. I began tiptoeing up from behind, my eyes on that taut, twinky posterior which was tightly hugged within a pair of lacy, forest-green panties. I kept low: out of view of the mirror he was looking into, and crawled along the floor on all-fours until I reached to within inches of him.

Without warning, I slid my paws up his thighs, manicured black claws scratching through the thick, umber-and-orange striped forest of fur, sinking into the sinewy flesh and light musculature as I pressed my muzzle into his hip, nibbling playfully. There was a jolt of surprise from my touch, but he didn't bother looking down, and continued to brush his teeth to completion while I licked and nuzzled over his bare leg. I continued to scratch over the firm thigh and toned ass of my beautiful beau, claws hooking around the waistband of his panties and tugging them down until the elastic hooked under the curve of his butt.

I heard a splat in the sink as he completed his task, followed by a light chuckle, "Mon Chiot, it has been a long day, I'm not sure I have the energy to pound you proper."

I slurped my blue tongue back into my maw and grinned playfully, "I don't recall saying I needed you to do anything." I tugged those panties further, just as he turned to face me. The fabric, which had been stifled in descent by becoming snagged on the the excitement-fueled growth between his legs, now gave way, causing the half-mast, pink shaft to bounce up from the recoil, landing atop my snout in a way that almost felt intentional. I crossed my eyes slightly as I admired the treat on my snout, my mouth beginning to water at the prospect of feeling that hefty accessory between my lips.

"Wait." He stated plainly, and I found myself locking into a mixture of thoughts. My eyes cast upward, just in time to hear his phone make the obligatory camera noise that indicated he had captured the compromising position for posterity. He looked at the picture admiringly, as he rubbed my forehead and mane like a feral animal. "Keep waiting."

"I lowered my brows in mock-annoyance. "Honey, this is really cliché, not to mention disresp-..."

"No. Bad." I blinked my eyes a moment, the word 'bad' popping into the back of my head and making me feel disappointed in myself. It wasn't that the word meant anything to me, but the tone he used sounded so scolding that I instantly shut my jaws, balancing the heavy phallus, weighed by gravity, atop my nose. To anyone else, this sort of behavior might have been disrespectful, but for some reason, I rather enjoyed it, and though I tried to feign disdain for the treatment, my wagging tail was playing Judas. I waited quietly, being a good boy while he took another picture, possibly to show off on his private accounts, my body tensing as I awaited the sweet sound of the word of release.

"Good boy, have a treat." Damn right, I'm a good boy! I thought to myself proudly. He wouldn't even have the opportunity to make the verbal offer before my head tilted, the heavy cock rolling to the left and down my muzzle as I caught it in my mouth with an expertise that seemed to surprise him. I was careful to guide the thick, pulsing erection between my canines, massaging beneath it with my big, flat tongue. Hallie was such a big guy. He wasn't excessive in any way, but there was just so much length and girth that didn't seem to belong on such a small figure. I closed my mouth around what amount of the engorged flesh I could, lips sealing just around the point where his knot would soon form, and let out a low moan that vibrated the tip at the edge of my throat.

Hallie was enjoying the treatment, and though he wasn't one to make a show about it, he couldn't hide the slight panting that had left him with his mouth cracked open and tongue out just a tad. I swallowed slightly, as I withdrew from the shaft, tongue practically wrapped around the bottom half and stimulating it the entire length of the resurfacing trip. As I reached the bulbous tip, I took it in my lips, stimulating from beneath with my tongue while I suckled upon it heartily. At last, it left my mouth with a delicious 'pop,' but only long enough for me to catch my breath before going down upon the length once more. I submerged it deep, this time, swallowing a good two inches of the wide sword, the small bulge of knot that threatened to soon swell now past my lips. To this. Hallie lurched suddenly forward, his legs briefly losing the ability to hold him aloft. I chuckled, which only sent sweet vibrations up his length, and withdrew once again.

This pattern continued with increasing fervor and decreasing interruption, until I was expertly bobbing my head, taking nearly every one of his eleven inches within my muzzle, maw and throat. I glided the veiny length over my slate blue tongue and vibrated my vocal chords in a series of excited groans as it slid into depths I had taken months to master. I watched his hands clench down on the counter, out of the corner of my eye, but tried my best to focus on the task at hand, keeping my fangs off the path of insertion. I felt a paw on the front-most portion of my mane, resting on my forehead as digits tangled with hair so that he could grip tight. I whimpered instinctively from having my hair pulled, but another part of me reveled in the sensation until my own extremities begin to struggle with the front of my underwear.

His hand shook against my scalp in a spasmodic way, and I felt a telltale pulse from the rod in my jaws, indicating a fast-approaching climax. I slammed face-first into my lover's lap, feeling his knot swell against my lips, uselessly attempting to bind to whatever warm hole was pleasuring him. Warmth filled my throat as I felt the jerking sensation of release, hot seed shooting straight down my gullet in waves. I swallowed as best I could, assisting the gooey contents in traversing to my belly. It was hard to keep up as he emptied his load into me, and I was forced to pull out, my mouth filling with the third shot of cum, which pooled around my tongue until I freed my maw.

Just as I was attempting to ingest the last mouthful of gooey jizz, I was blessed with the arrival of a fourth, unexpected wave of release, which hit my face in thick rivulets, creating a gooey trail across my muzzle and nose. I slipped my big, flat tongue along my muzzle, cleaning the translucent glaze from atop it with a loud slurp, then grinned playfully up at my partner. He was panting slightly, but looked back at me with a look of determination that only excited me more. A paw graced the top of my head once more, and I closed my eyes to accept the affectionate touch.

"Good boy. Now go take the rest of your clothes off."

It never ceased to amaze me, the depths of the tiny mastiff's mastery over fellatio. It had been a long evening, and despite being exhausted from all that had occurred, I now found myself wound tight from the expert attentions of my lover. The hearty release I had experienced had left me with the disinterested sensation any man feels following the expulsion of his cargo, however I was determined to give the boy his due reward for his hard work. He looked up at me, his big, blue eyes peeking up from just beneath two half-dangling ears. His muzzle was smudged and his fur matted from my gooey seed, and his mouth hung open slightly, revealing tiny white fangs and a panting, blue tongue. He was adorable.

I realized I had been admiring him for quite some time, running my paw through the thick mohawk of fur that lined the top of his head. This realization came when a high-pitched whine poured from his mouth, reminding me that my puppy was still in a very wild mode. "Good boy. Now go take your the rest of your clothes off." He leapt up and ran frantically from the bathroom, clumsily attempting to remove his boxer-briefs as he returned to the bedroom. He was nearly to the bed when he tripped over the half-discarded, cotton garments and fell face-first onto the carpeted floor, legs bent so that he was presenting his tight little ass and curly tail to the world around him as he groaned in embarrassment. Tiberius was never particularly graceful.

"....you didn't see that." he grumbled with his voice muffled somewhat by the thick black, woven flooring, but I had already reached him. I cupped the right cheek of his handsome posterior and playfully squeezed, eliciting a feral whine from him as he lurched forward a bit more.

"That's a good position for you..." I playfully chided, and he didn't miss a beat.

"You say that like you've never seen it before." his tail wagged to-and-fro above the fuzzy cleft of his crack, and he pushed himself up enough with his paws to turn and look at me, "Don't go eyeballing my ass like you've got the stamina to go sticking it in, Honey. You're an excellent lover, but even you have a thirty minute cool-down." He was being cheeky... and a bit nerdy, but I couldn't very well argue with facts.

"Stay." I barked at him, anyway. He could be cheeky, but I knew that with his mentality, I could easily win any argument. He lowered his eyes in annoyance, much as he had done when I had told him to wait, before.

"Okay that's really cliché, Honey. Also this position is really uncomfortable, I'm not going to just sit here a-..."

"Hush." I added. Instantly, his mouth closed tight and he stared at me with the same irritated look. It didn't matter, I knew him well enough to know that not only was he practically begging in his head to be praised, but he actually got off on this sort of treatment. He was a good dog, as much as he was a good boyfriend. I made my way across the room and to our dresser, stopping to look myself in the mirror for a moment before digging through it for some assorted accessories. I had been holding a lot of these toys for many months now, keeping them buried in my sock drawer until I got the inclination to actually try using them. Tonight was going to have to be that night.

I turned, holding a collar, leash and a ball-shaped gag in my hands and I saw his eyes go wide, though I could not tell you if it was from excitement or nervousness. "Okay, first of all, that better not be my Christmas present. Secondly: Please hurry, my arms are getting tired."

"You've been really mouthy tonight. Mouthy dogs need to be trained better, Mon Chiot. He lowered his head in a shameful way, and I spotted his curly mastiff tail drooping behind him. Kneeling beside my floored pet lover, I began clearing room among the ocean of mane that crowded his neck, wrapping a purple collar around it and affixing it with the available buckle. Once it was in place, I gave him a quick scratch of his ruff to loosen the pressed-down fluff and allow him to look a little less awkward.

Next, I held up the ball-gag, which was nearly four inches wide and would leave his maw in an opened state for the entirety of the coming minutes. He looked at me pleadingly, "Come on, Hallie. Don't you think that that's a bit excessive?" I just continued to hold the harness for the adornment in front of his mouth until he complied. He did just that, but only after a minute of staring at the device and glaring at me. Tiberius was just a bit too compliant for his own good. He opened that dark, pastel blue maw for me, and I placed the purple ball within, digging a path in the fur behind his head so that I could buckle the device in place.

What came next were a series of questions and complaints that, at this point, were nothing more than grunts and whines that were nonetheless sarcastic in delivery. I chuckled and patted him on the head, "If you're still talking in that tone, you haven't learned the lesson." The snap of the leash came next, and I lightly tugged it as I returned to my feet, indicating that he should join me. "Come."

He had waited until I had said the word, but complied by standing as well, still with his undies tightly wrapped around his ankles like manacles. Clumsy boy. I motioned to them and he quickly kicked them off of the excessive flourish of fur that hid his feet and looked back to me for instructions. A bit of drool was forming at his bottom lip from the gag, and I almost felt a little bad for him, but then again, his breed was rather notorious for it, anyway. Besides, I was having too much fun to feel bad at this point, and judging by the droplet of silky-white precum that now dangled from the tip of his flaccid meat, it was likely that he wasn't too upset either.

I motioned to the bed, my fingertips passing over the area where the middle row of pillows lay, and gently yanked his collar, "Sit." He rolled his eyes, but as with every time I had made an instruction, he did as he was ordered, climbing onto the California king, sliding across the deep, luxurious comforter and pulling himself up to a sitting position just in front of the pillows. He watched me anxiously, his tail twitching as he rested his gigantic puppy paws between his spread legs."Good boy." I offered, and I saw that unconscious giddiness appear, which manifested in the form of his eyes widening excitedly.

I joined him at a leisurely pace. I wanted to make him wait, but the nearby clock was showing two AM, and I knew that we couldn't be dicking around all night, so to speak, for the sake of buildup. Climbing up onto the cushiony comforter, I positioned myself, on my knees, directly between Tibby's outstretched legs, reaching forward and patting his cheek gently. From there I gave the leash a little tug, pulling his gagged, drooling face a bit closer as he whimpered. I supported myself with one paw while pulling on the leash with the other, pressing my nose against his and whispering,

"Now what am I supposed to do with that?" He tilted his head in confusion, and I gave the thick, blue phallus that lay dormant at his crotch and playful grip. In my grasp, it throbbed slightly, but went back to it's flaccid state, "Hurry up and get it ready."

He didn't argue or even hesitate when I gave the instruction, and took a heaping handful of drooping cock in his over-sized paw, stimulating the loose flesh with his expert grip. I leaned back and watched the show, mentally devouring the image of the desperate, obedient pup stroking himself before me. He wasn't moaning or being theatrical for the sake of show: Instead he seemed to be on a mission, a determined look in his eyes as he pumped the swelling appendage to full erection. It only took a minute, but soon the many compound inches of thick, turgid flesh lay on display, rising from his lap like a great azure monolith.

He slowed his pace, at the completion of the task, but continued to drum his soft-padded fingertips over the fleshy rod, looking up at me as seductively as he could manage with a giant purple ball in his mouth. I obliged him with a bit of praise, "Good dog." He gave me a confused look at my use of the word 'dog' and not 'boy,' but didn't seem too concerned, overall. He especially didn't seem to care about such trivialities when he felt my paw grapple his fully-erect shaft and take over for his own attentions. I watched as he closed his eyes and relaxed, against the pillows behind him partially bucking his hips against my generous jerking.

He should have known by now, that this was not how it was going to go down. There was a twitch in my back door from the anticipation of closing tight about that statuesque piece of art which rose magnificently from between his legs. I reached into the nearby drawer and withdrew a tiny bottle necessary for the imminent events, using only a single paw to lather the warm, slippery oil which smelled of strawberries. I saw Tibby's nose at work, not that he would need FIDS to recognize a scent so potent, and he whimpered in expectation. He writhed slightly as I began coating his cock in that sweet, gooey lube, still giving gentle jerks that were inefficient for anything beyond spreading the lube over his skin and teasing the poor boy.

I gave the strawberry-flavored surprise a long, sensual lick, folding my tongue around it and slurping up some of the flavored goodness before climbing back atop his lap, wrapping my legs around his waist. "Alright, you know what to do." I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his nose playfully, loosening the grip of my legs and squeezing my ass cheeks around the immense shaft which now ran along my lower back. He hesitated a bit, and I responded by yanking the collar, resulting in a yelp, "Come on, boy. Stick it in there, I don't have all night."

He mumbled an argument, and I didn't even have to hear his garbled words to know that he was sarcastically reminding me that we had Christmas Day off. I felt the bulbous head press against my pucker and bit down, preparing myself for what was coming. It had been a few days since we had last been intimate, and the boy was nothing if not gifted where it counted. I relaxed my body as best I could as I felt the oil-slicked tip begin to force itself into the only-marginally-loose entrance. With a 'pop' like sensation, the turgid head of his shaft completed it's insertion, and I felt the pain of my sphincter stretching jolt throughout my lower body. My fingers entangled within his mane as I held tight, clutching my darling mastiff with all the fervor I could manage as I panted desperately, willing the pain to subside.

He held me in his arms as well, attempting to offer me the time to adjust. To this, I simply slapped his chest, playfully, "Go. Just go. Hurry up." He hesitated again, but did as instructed, grabbing tightly to my hips and using this stabilization to assist in sliding inch upon inch of that shaft into my aching ass. No matter how many times we tried this, it was still a lot to adjust to, and I laid atop him as I felt the last haf-inch of girth from his knot cease his assault. I rolled my eyes as I felt him stop again, and yanked the leash once more, "All of it! Come on! You know you wanna knot me, boy." he whined, but obliged, immersing the last hump inside of me. My paws gripped harder to that fiery wave of mane on his shoulders and I began to pant, offering gentle kisses up and down his neck and jaw while I adjusted to the discomfort of being kebab'd so thickly.

Before long, I could feel him retract his rod, withdrawing agonizingly slow until just the bulbous head of the aforementioned organ was still protruding. I gasped as he then sent the device rocketing back inside me with a much more exuberant force than I had expected. It still stung, but by now I had begun to grow accustomed to it, and the sensation of him slamming against my insides were delightful enough to dull the pain slightly. He began building speed with each see and saw of his cock, until he was simply thrusting within me, pouring swift but varied punches directly at my prostate. I felt a telltale hardening of my own spent member at the sensation, and it's own hefty girth began slapping madly against my lover's tummy until he grabbed it in his large, beastly paw.

With another paw steadying his thrusts via a firm grip on my ass, he began pumping me with the first, and I had to do everything in my power not to go ragdoll from all the sensations filling me at once. Below me, I saw the wheels turning in Tibby's head: certainly he was enjoying himself, but he was quite focused on successfully performing two tasks simultaneously. I yanked his leash again and leaned forward, "stop... thinking so much...nngh... and just... fuck me." He gave me a bit of a glare, but closed his eyes, still sloppily trying to jerk me off while pounding my ass like a jackhammer. I closed my eyes as well, letting my head hang back as I was bounced atop the mastiff like a paddle ball. By now, I had completely taken over the work and was violently hopping up and down on that invading beast, the unformed knot already popping in and out with each motion. Bits of precum dripped down my shaft, coating his paw slightly as it was forced out from the ravenous attentions to my insides.

Tiberius was a writhing mess beneath me, whimpering and whining against that gag until at last, on a downward stroke, I felt a telltale swelling below. I gasped at the sudden stretching, and lurched forward, my body quaking as I felt the shots of cum pouring from his cock, filling my cavity with warm goo. I panted heavily and my partner groaned, clutching the bed sheets as he emptied his torrent and then went nearly-limp, save for the paw desperately trying to jerk me to completion below. Panting, exhausted, and stuffed full of spooge that couldn't escape for the dick-sized plug in my cavern, I took my own pole back from him, watching as he went positively catatonic on the bed. I wiggled my ass a bit, moving that immense cock around for stimulation and feeling dribbles of his viscous fluid drip down from inside. I made quick work of reaching a second climax, all by my lonesome, and finished the entire night's events by pouring my own sticky load, in thick rivulets, all over my lover's front. He seemed to shudder from this as I fell atop him, sandwiching the sauce between us.

We laid together for what felt like an eternity, catching our breath and holding each other as close as possible, until I realized that I had left him in that gag the entire time. A part of me was surprised that he hadn't complained or attempted to remove it himself, and I quickly reached behind my lover's head to unbuckle the offending accessory. As the drool-coated gag left his maw, he began working his jaw a bit, a slight pop emitting from one side.

He looked at me and spoke, following a playful huff, "You're a jerk, you know that?"

I just laughed and laid back atop him, a trickle pouring down my thigh as the knot began to lose purchase and the contents of our mating ritual began to escape. The sensation made me shiver slightly, and I suddenly became aware of just how cold I was. Quickly pulling the disheveled bed sheets and comforter around us, I laid atop him, exhaustion taking me as my eyes grew heavy. I ran my paw through the thick section of mane on his chest and sighed, happily. "Merry Christmas. Mon Chiot."

"That still better not have been my Christmas present." He mumbled, drifting off, himself.