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"Pictures of You"

by K.M. Hirosaki ([email protected])

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The scent of ash still hung in the air. By all accounts, the fire had been put out hours ago, but as Morgan wandered the burned-out rooms of the apartment, it somehow all still felt fresh to him. What had once been his home was now a scarred shell.

The North Hillderry Fire Department had gotten to the scene very quickly, and they'd been able to save the building. With a little work, even this apartment might be made livable again, but by then, it would be somebody else's home. Morgan supposed that the firefighters aught to be applauded for their quick action, but with so much of what had made this place his home having been lost to the fire, he was in no real state of mind to be thankful for much of anything.

It was the office that had been hit worst; the Fire Department had determined that the fire had started there, sparked by an electrical fault. There was something about knowing that that made Morgan even angrier--knowing that this had all just been some random, unpreventable accident. If the cause had come down to something like having left a candle burning or having left the stove on, he could at least blame himself, but in this case, he had nothing to blame but fate or God or something intangible, with nothing for him to vent his frustrations out at.

Just about everything in the office--the two computers, the desk, the filing cabinet--had all been destroyed beyond salvage. The fire damage spread from there, down the hallway, reaching most of the living room and the kitchen as well. The bedroom had been spared the worst of it, but that didn't still didn't leave much worth saving, from the look of it.

That's what Morgan was looking for, though: things worth saving. His gray paws were already smeared with black after sifting through so much soot and ash, which in turn left dark smudges on everything they touched--not that it mattered, for the most part, since it looked like almost everything had been touched in some way by the fire's wrath. He hoped to at least find something to rescue from the apartment before he had to clear out for good, though, and focusing on that task was, at least for the moment, enough to keep him from dwelling too long on his own misfortune.

After crawling around on the floor and checking under the bed, Morgan checked the closet. He slid the door aside, noting that it still moved pretty smoothly along its metal rails. Judging from the black scorch marks on the bottom of the door, though, it looked as though not even the closet had escaped unharmed.

Shirts and jackets hung from hangers, and despite smelling musty and smoky, they could probably be washed and then sorted through later. A number of articles had fallen onto the floor, though, as well, and those had let the fire spread to the boxes stacked in the back corner. Morgan tossed the burned scraps of clothing out of the way and clambered into the closet, tugging the boxes out one by one, loath to even open them yet for fear of seeing what other parts of his life had been destroyed.

Tucked almost in the very back of the closet was a shoebox. There was just enough light coming in from the windows outside for Morgan to see it and tell what it was, but it wasn't until he picked it up and felt the contents shifting around inside that he remembered what it was.

It was a box of old photographs. He'd allowed it to be buried, there, in his closet, under the notion that, if he ever really needed to relive those memories for some reason or another, the pictures would be there. Now, though, he might not even have that much.

He hesitated. This was one box he almost certainly didn't want to open. Still, by the time he'd gotten it out of the closet, he'd already gotten back down onto his knees, and without really thinking, he pulled back the lid and looked on inside at the stack of photographs piled inside.

The picture on top was upside-down. Scrawled in Morgan's own handwriting were the words Annual Conference - Oakley. He took the photo in between two claws and flipped it over, finding that it was mostly unmarked by the fire, save for some minor warping due to heat.

Depicted in the photograph was a gray wolf--Morgan, seven years ago--sitting at a table in some restaurant (he'd long since forgotten the name) having lunch with his former coworker Shauna, a pretty if chatty young raccoon. Morgan didn't remember who had taken the picture, because he didn't remember that particular lunch very well. He knew why he'd kept the picture, though, and it had nothing to do with the Oakley conference or Shauna or anything so forgettable.

At the edge of the frame, sitting at the table next to Morgan and Shauna, probably unaware that he was even in the picture, was a young male arctic fox named Kim.

Morgan might not remember what had transpired at lunch on that day, but he remembered quite clearly what had happened at dinner.

*

Oakley was a beautiful city, Morgan thought. It was one of the few cities that had tried to maintain some sense of cultural and historical identity in these ever-advancing modern times, and it was one of the cities that succeeded best in that. Oakley had character, and the wolf found the sense of flair and personality of the city itself altogether very charming.

Morgan was sad that he'd only get to spend a week in town, because after the first two days of his company's annual conference, he thought he'd be more than happy to stay a lot longer. From the window of his twenty-second story hotel room, the nighttime cityscape was a dazzling array of lights, and from the first time he'd seen it when he'd arrived in town the night before, it had captivated him. He thought himself lucky to not have a higher position within his company, too, since that translated into more free time for him in the evenings, when the department directors and vice-presidents would all still be busy in meetings.

He wanted to simply go off and explore by himself while he had the chance, but his coworker Shauna (one of the overly energetic drones from Sales) had insisted that he come along to dinner with her and some other coworkers. He'd wanted to protest, since the raccoon had already dragged him out for lunch that day, too, but they were apparently headed for one of the nicest restaurants in the city: Fitzgerald Manor. Moreover, it was all on Shauna's department head's expense account, so it would have been foolish to turn down the opportunity.

As soon as he got to the restaurant, Morgan knew that he'd made the right decision. The restaurant was located right along the bank of the Oakley River, and the architecture of the building suggested that it was over three hundred years old. Oh, it had been restored many times over, Morgan was sure, but given Oakley's zeal for historical preservation, he was sure that such a prestigious establishment had been kept as close as possible to its original state.

The inside was just as classy as the outside, with gilded frescoes that indicated opulence while still being tasteful enough that they weren't in one's face. Morgan wasn't used to eating at upscale places like this, but since he was on a business trip, he at least had the proper attire with him. The mingling scents of all different sorts of decadent foods wafted in from the kitchen and overwhelmed the wolf's nostrils, and he knew that he'd be in for a treat.

Shauna had politely excused herself to use the restroom before being seated, leaving Morgan in the waiting area. The wolf scanned the restaurant proper, but didn't see any of their fellow coworkers seated, yet, and after a minute of looking, he gave up, because the mustelid maître d' kept shooting him looks that were very successful in making him feel uncomfortable. He didn't want to sit down, but he didn't want to just stand there, so he ended up pacing, pretending to read various notices and bulletins posted on the walls.

The door from the outside opened, and along with a gust of cool, early evening air, a small body came barreling on in, running right on into Morgan's side as the wolf took a step backward without looking where he was going. He was knocked off balance, but didn't fall, and he whirled around just in time to see a flustered little arctic fox spinning dizzily from his own impact.

"Whoops, sorry!" the young fox yipped, wobbling in place for a moment. Morgan almost giggled, noting how cute the vulpine looked in his flustered state. The neat, collared shirt almost didn't suit him, but after a few moments, the wolf realized he was staring.

It was the fox's eyes that compelled Morgan to stare. Something about them was simply gorgeous. The wolf was almost too taken aback to keep looking, and when he decided that he wanted to look anyway, the fox slipped around him, flashing an apologetic wave to the maître d' as he ran on into the restaurant. Something tickled at the back of Morgan's mind. He still felt the urge to stare at the fox, not because he was cute (although he certainly was, at that--and well worth a naughty mental image or two), but rather, because of some feeling the wolf couldn't quite place.

When the fox finally slipped out of view, Morgan sighed with a mixture of relief and embarrassment. It wouldn't do at all if Shauna came back and caught him staring at some wide-eyed, energetic boy the way he ought to be looking at some pretty she-wolf. Luckily, the raccoon was taking her sweet time in the restroom, and the maître d' was far beyond such concerns, anyway.

None of Morgan's other coworkers had shown up when Shauna did reemerge from the lavatory, and the raccoon's snout scrunched up in dismay and worry. "I hope we have the right place," she said, staring out the front door at the riverfront.

"Maybe this is one of those places where it's fashionable to be late," Morgan suggested.

"If we end up eating alone, I'm still expensing this," Shauna replied, adjusting her blouse before turning around and walking up to the maître d'. The stiff-backed weasel at least confirmed their reservation for a party of twelve, and sat them promptly so that they could sit and wait for the rest of their dining companions (and also, Morgan surmised, so that he could get the pacing wolf out of his neat and tidy host area).

Morgan saw the arctic fox again as he and Shauna were shown to their table. The fox was eating with family, it looked like: there were two older couples, one of which was probably his parents, and a young lady who was probably a sister or a cousin. Even for such a high-class restaurant, the feeling Morgan got from the table was one of excessive formality, one that was near uncomfortable. And people think that wolves' pack mentality is bad, he thought to himself, shaking his head as he sat down across from Shauna.

No sooner had they been brought glasses of water when Arthur Brindle, Sales Director of the Arthen office, showed up with the rest of their entourage. Arthur was a raccoon who must have certainly been older than he looked, and he carried himself with prestige that made him seem right at home with the air of the restaurant. Introductions were polite but curt, and Morgan found himself thankful, at least on one point, that he worked in the North Hillderry office.

Arthur's prominence extended past his position in the company, it turned out, and the waiter came right up to him and addressed him as "Mister Brindle" on sight. Morgan was put off, at first, by the showiness and deference offered to the raccoon, but then the wolf thought that it might not be so bad to receive preferential treatment owing to Brindle's being a regular patron. The sour feeling returned, though, when Arthur ordered the soup course for the entire table without taking any consensus on what anybody might have wanted.

"Trust me: it's far and away their best offering," the raccoon said as the waiter ducked away. "You'll thank me."

Morgan's chagrin melted away, though, after the waiter reappeared with the soup and the wolf got his first taste. 'Amazing' would have been insufficient in describing it. He thought, less than halfway through the bowl, that he would be content eating it every day for the rest of his life. True to Arthur's proud prediction, the rest of the table offered up their very impressed words of thanks for the selection.

It was just as well, though, that Arthur didn't presume to select entrées for the whole table; the mixture of carnivores and herbivores would have posed some problems for that tack, anyway, and if there was only one thing on the menu worth having, then Fitzgerald Manor would have to be the most overrated fancy restaurant in the country.

The sheer number of choices made Morgan's head spin, because everything sounded like an absolute treat, and every time he thought he'd decided on something, the thought of not getting to taste something else made him second-guess himself. From the furrowed brows visible past the rims of the other diners' menus, he didn't appear to be alone in his quandary.

While Morgan ran down the list of entrées for what felt like the fiftieth time, a sudden interruption jarred him out of his calculating thought process. There was a dull thud, followed by the jingling of silverware and the creak of a chair sliding roughly back along the floor. Heads all over the restaurant turned, and they turned to face the table of arctic foxes.

The young fox who had bumped into Morgan earlier had risen to his feet. "Well then I'm sorry I can't be perfect!" he snapped. His scowl was directed at the older couple seated to his left.

"Kim, sit down!" the man barked. "You're making a scene!"

"You're the one making a production out of everything!" the younger fox snapped back, motioning with a dismissive paw to the dinner table.

Morgan was sitting far enough away from the table that he knew he had to have been imagining it, but he could have sworn that he heard the older fox growling. The fox's muzzle started to open wide, but it closed again before any words came out. He neatly set down his knife and fork beside his dinner plate, and because the rest of the restaurant was dead quiet, his response was easy to hear. "Do you realize, Kim, what your mother and I have gone through to--"

"But I never asked you to do any of it, did I?" the fox named Kim snapped again. "So ask yourself whose fault that is." He reached up to his shirt collar and tore it open, sending the button away someplace Morgan didn't see, and then he tugged off his necktie and bunched it up into a ball before throwing it down onto the table. "Have a nice dinner."

With that, the angry little arctic fox started to storm out of the restaurant, his clothing disheveled and his fur frazzled. The other foxes at the table watched him leave, and to Morgan's surprise, none of them got up to stop him. A wolf would never be allowed to get away with that sort of disrespect towards his family, whether warranted or not.

"Wait here," Morgan said to Shauna without bothering to even look at her, and before she or Arthur or anyone else could stop him, the wolf got up from his seat and started after the fox.

That niggling sense of familiarity was still picked at Morgan's mind. He still couldn't place the fox in his memories, and the name 'Kim' didn't ring any bells, but he felt driven to follow anyway. Maybe it was the fire in the young fellow's eyes as he'd spat out his outburst, such a contrast to the flustered critter who'd clumsily stumbled into the restaurant in such a hurry.

The fox didn't have that much of a head start, Morgan figured, but by the time the wolf had made it the front of the restaurant, the fox was nowhere to be seen. Looking out the front door, Morgan saw that it had begun to rain. He considered whether or not the angry fox would have gone so far as to stomp out into the rain in the heat of the moment, but recalling the look in those eyes, the wolf guessed that that was exactly what he'd done.

Morgan stepped outside, into the rain. It wasn't coming down as hard or as fast as it had looked from inside, but after a minute or so, he'd probably be too wet to show himself in the restaurant again. No matter, he thought, and then he scanned left and right to see if he could spot any sign of where the fox might have gone.

The fox wasn't hard to find: he was standing up against the railing along the riverfront, not even half a block down the street. He just stood there, despite the rain coming down on him, and he looked out over the river, looking forlorn and plaintive instead of angry and rash. As Morgan started to approach, the fox lowered his head; at first, the wolf thought he'd been spotted, but as he got closer, the fox showed no further sign of noticing--or at least, not of caring.

"Hey," Morgan called out while he was still a safe distance away from the young fox.

From the way the fox's ears went up, Morgan guessed that his presence hadn't been detected before. The fox lifted his head, and after a moment of surprise, his expression turned dubious. "What do you want?" he asked.

Morgan took a step closer, half-expecting the fox to back off, in turn. "What do you want?" he asked instead, sounding more wary than accusatory.

"I saw you in the restaurant," Morgan replied. Rainwater had already done a good job of soaking his shirt and tie.

The fox's expression didn't change. "Yeah, and?"

"And... and... I don't know. I thought I'd come see what's wrong."

After another moment, the fox turned away and looked back out over the river. "Why do you care?"

Morgan weighed his thoughts carefully. Why did he care? Just because this fox seemed somehow familiar? Or because the wolf thought he was cute? "Your parents didn't send me, if that's what you're asking," he said.

A soft laugh cut through the sound of the pattering rain. "Oh, trust me, you don't need to convince me of that," he said, and for whatever reason, his matted tail wagged for a moment. With those defenses seemingly down, Morgan got closer, setting a wet paw on the wet railing.

"Did you maybe want to talk about it?" the wolf asked.

"Why's that?" the fox asked, looking down into the water.

"Because you just look like you might want to talk about it, I guess."

Turning away from the railing, the fox looked back at Morgan, and appeared to give the matter a few seconds' worth of thought. Thanks to the rain, his fluffy fur was soaked through, making him look pretty pathetic, but his eyes made it look as though he wasn't aware of it. "I don't know if talking is enough to help," he said.

"Could it hurt?"

The fox sighed. "Well, maybe not," he said. "It's not like I can go back inside, at any rate."

Morgan chuckled even though he didn't intend to, so he murmured an apology under his breath and then asked, "What were you doing in there, anyway? You seemed real nervous when you came in."

The fox blinked a few times, clearly confused, and then he clapped his paws over his muzzle in embarrassment. "Oh, God, you're that guy I ran into!" he yipped. "Oh, no, I'm really sorry, sir! I--"

"You don't need to apologize," Morgan insisted with a laugh. God, the fox was a cutey. "Really, I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"I'll get by," the fox said. "I mean, if I don't get disowned by my parents over this."

"What were you doing?" Morgan asked, shuffling closer.

"I was on the world's most awkward date ever?" the fox said, making his reply a question.

Morgan furrowed his brow. "With your parents?"

"I told you," the fox said, finally cracking a smile. "Most awkward date ever."

Amusing as it was, Morgan suddenly felt a bit dirty. The fox looked young, but not that young. Well, maybe not that young. "Wait, how old are you if you're out on a date with your parents?" he asked. God, please say you're like, twenty, or something, and that you've just led an incredibly sheltered life.

"Um, twenty-two," the fox said, wincing. Ah! That made him only a few years younger than Morgan, after all. "I mean, it's not like it was a real 'date' date. My family's weird, but they're not that weird."

The wolf's curiosity was past piqued, now. "Well, what was it, then?" he asked. "I mean, if you don't mind telling me."

Leaning back against the railing, the fox sighed. "My parents have been trying to fix me up with someone," he said. "I guess they thought that dropping two grand on dinner would impress her family enough that they wouldn't notice what a total klutz I am."

"Ah. Those kind of parents," Morgan said. He was glad he didn't have parents like that. Dating was a weird enough concept to him, anyway; back up in North Hillderry, he didn't have 'dates' so much as people he'd sleep with somewhat regularly for various extended periods of time.

The fox continued. "I wouldn't mind them being so controlling as long as they'd just..." His words trailed off, and he tilted his head to one side. "Wait, why am I even telling you this?" His voice was marked by a self-conscious chuckle.

"I don't know. Why are you?" Morgan could see from the way the fox's stubby ears were tipped back that the young guy was nervous, but even the shyness in his eyes was counteracted by the fact that he didn't look away.

The fox shook his head. "I don't know. You just seem really familiar, for some reason."

Morgan's own ears shot right up, and the fox definitely noticed. "So it's not just me thinking that, then?" the wolf asked, smiling despite himself as the rain kept coming down.

"Maybe we've crossed paths before," the fox suggested with a smile of his own, his eyes once again bright and vivid like they'd been when Morgan had first seen them. "You know, like, maybe in a different lifetime, or something. They say things like that, sometimes."

"You almost make it sound romantic," Morgan said. He wanted to reach out and touch the fox on the cheek, to see how warm he might have felt underneath the wet fur.

The fox's ears canted back further still--although just barely, so much that if Morgan hadn't been staring he likely wouldn't have noticed. "I don't know if I meant it to come across like that."

"Are you a romantic?" Morgan asked before he could stop himself. Eh, may as well, right? It's not like this isn't going to make for a weird memory, anyway.

"I..." The fox stopped, lost his words again, and then hesitated, like he didn't know if it would be worse to look away or to just stand there silently. That indecision and uncertainty seemed to Morgan like an invitation--or, at the very least, an opening, and he took that opening to lean in and kiss the fox right on the mouth, feeling more than hearing the vulpine's little squeak as their muzzles pressed together.

Morgan pulled away, and if the fox had looked flustered and confused before, he looked downright bewildered, now. "Okay, now that's definitely not how I meant it to come across," he said, but there was something in his voice, some little clutch or hangup, that Morgan thought was more an indication of nervousness than one of disgust.

"You don't sound too upset," the wolf decided to point out.

"Do you make it a habit of kissing complete strangers?" the fox asked.

"Only if they're cute enough."

This time, the fox's ears went all the way back, and he looked like he couldn't turn to look away even if he wanted to. "That's... that's flattering, really," he said. "But, I mean, it's not like... I mean, I'm not--"

"Do you have to get back inside with your parents?" Morgan asked, interrupting him to spare him the embarrassment of needing to protest further.

The fox stared down the street, back at the face of the restaurant. "If they haven't come after me, yet, then they probably don't want to see me right now, anyway," he said.

"Well, then it looks like the both of us still need to get ourselves some dinner," Morgan said.

"Dinner?" the fox yipped, his attention snapping back fully to Morgan.

Morgan tried to stifle his chuckle. "Yeah," he said. "Dinner. You know, at least so that we can get out of this rain."

*

Pressure built up behind Morgan's eyes, but he was able to hold in the tears. He looked again at the picture of himself and Shauna in that restaurant, with little Kim sitting oblivious at the table next to them.

No chance encounters, no reincarnated souls with paths intertwining again and again--just two people who had eaten lunch at the same restaurant earlier that day and who wouldn't come to find out until far, far later.

The hunch might not have been magical, in the end, but running out into the rain after the poor fox and acting on rash, foolish impulse had still been a chance encounter in its own right. Morgan might not remember much of anything about lunch that day, but he still remembered that dinner with Kim, the two of them sitting together in some hole-in-the-wall, soaking wet, having their surreal moment.

Kim might have insisted that his distaste towards his parents' plan to betroth him didn't mean that he was gay, but he didn't end up protesting very much when Morgan dragged him to bed after they met up again the following night, and after they met up for the next four nights after that for the remainder of Morgan's stay in Oakley.

What should have just been a whirlwind tryst in a far-off city, though, didn't stay that way.

Kim, for whatever reason, had stayed in touch. Morgan had been surprised by that, actually, since he would have figured that a fox like him would have been glad to have had his chance to experiment and then get back on living his normal life when that window of opportunity closed again--after all, what else should he expect from a wealthy son who was working on his second degree? Instead, what Morgan got, rather than just pleasant memories of a few nights with a sweet little fox, was correspondence.

Morgan set the picture on the floor beside himself, and then he reached back into the shoebox to pull out another. This one was more obviously damaged than the first. It had slipped in against the side of the box itself, and so the fire had left more of a mark, burning away one of the corners. That part of the photo, though, was only scenery. The rest was warped, just like the first (if a little worse), but not enough that the wolf's memory couldn't clear it right back up.

If it weren't for Kim's bright blue jacket, the white fox might well have disappeared against the backdrop of snow. Morgan's own darker fur (and darker jacket) made him pop out a lot more. The both held pairs of skis, and they stood, side by side, smiling. Anyone else looking at the picture wouldn't have seen anything but two young guys on a ski trip together, never guessing at what else was going on between them.

*

"Come on, Kim," the wiry ringtail pleaded. Even with his heavy ski jacket, he managed to look skinny. He was one of Kim's friends and classmates from Oakley University. Morgan tried to remember whether his name was Jamie or Jimmy.

Kim turned in his seat and leaned his head back to look at the ringtail, standing behind him. "I'll head back out in a little while," he said. "I just want to relax right now."

"You've hardly done any skiing at all since we got here," the ringtail said. His voice wasn't as whiny and nasal as it could have been, Morgan thought, but that didn't stop his begging from sounding very annoying.

"You know," Morgan said, grabbing the ringtail's attention, "people go on ski trips for plenty of reasons besides just skiing." Like, say, having sex with your friend, here, for instance. "Why do you think they provide so many other things for people to do?"

The ringtail looked at Kim as the fox giggled, but he seemed to take it in stride. "Oh, all right, fine," he said as he stretched out, his long tail uncurling from around his leg. "Enjoy your hot cocoa while it lasts--I still want to see you out there on the slopes again, later."

"Later. Promise," Kim said, before bringing his mug of cocoa up for a sip.

Morgan watched the ringtail meet up with a young vixen--who has also come along with Kim's group from Oakley--before heading out the door. The wolf looked back over at Kim, then, and smiled as he saw the fox licking a chocolaty brown smear off of the white fur above his lip. "I hope your friends don't think you're being lazy just to spend time with me," Morgan said to the fox.

"Ah, it's okay. I'll get back to skiing eventually. Honestly, I really am just kind of tired right now."

Morgan winked. "Trouble sleeping?" he asked.

"Nothing a hot drink can't fix," Kim replied, but his cute, rounded ears both flicked in a way that Morgan had come to learn meant that he'd succeeding in flustering the fox.

Cobblewood Ridge was a nice, secluded getaway nestled up in the mountains, far closer to North Hillderry than Oakley was. Besides, a vacation made the perfect pretext for Kim to be able to invite one of his friends "from around that area" to come along. Unfortunately, the group of six had only been able to obtain two rooms, which precluded the sort of nighttime activities the wolf had been looking forward to when he'd been invited along.

"Are you sure you don't need to lie down?" Morgan said with a smile. "You know, just for good measure?"

Poor Kim looked so obliviously innocent for a moment, taking a few seconds for the words to sink in, and then his ears flicked again and he curled up on himself self-consciously. "Yeah, I bet you'd like to go lie down," he murmured. His voice was quiet, not so much out of intent that he didn't want to be overheard, Morgan guessed, but just because he was shy.

"Are you telling me you wouldn't?" Morgan asked. He leaned further forward over the table. Even with all the lodge's mingling scents of food and drink, he could still smell the fox, close as he was.

"What, like, right now?" Kim asked, eyebrows going up. The best thing about his look of surprise was that it didn't even look feigned.

Morgan knew better than to reach out and take the fox's paw in his and drag him off, but he knew he wouldn't need to, anyway. "Why not?" the wolf said. "All of your buddies are out on the slopes--probably won't be back for a couple hours, at least, I'd guess. You could go back to the room and just curl up in bed for a bit, nice and undisturbed." Already, Morgan was well along the way to arousal, and he was turning himself on by being able to push Kim's buttons.

"I... I don't know if I'm quite that tired," Kim said. He broke eye contact, a new wave of visible shyness washing over him. Hesitation: as a result of not wanting to seem overeager, or last-second nervousness?

Neither would be a problem for much longer, in either case. "Well, good. I'm not all that tired, myself," Morgan said, lowering his own voice, not just to prevent being overheard, but also because he knew from experience that the lower register of his lupine voice really hit Kim in just the right way.

"Well, I mean..." The arctic fox looked back into Morgan's eyes, and the look on his pretty face seemed to say, I know what you're getting at, and I want to say 'yes,' but... God, he was adorable.

Morgan said nothing. He simply got out of his chair, leaving his own half-finished drink behind, and started to walk off. He wanted to turn around to see the look on Kim's face, but he contented himself with hearing the sounds of shuffling mugs and flatware as the fox was forced to make the split-second decision to follow. One quick pattering later, and the fox was at the wolf's side.

Neither of them exchanged words as they made their way back upstairs to their room, and nor did Morgan afford Kim the chance to say anything once they got inside, immediately pressing the white fox against the wall, forcing the vulpine into a deep, passionate kiss. Kim squirmed as the wolf's paws went up underneath his sweater, moving through his soft, clean fur, and he whimpered as he surrendered his tongue for a firm suckling.

Kim was still unpracticed, that much Morgan could tell. He would have wagered anything that the fox hadn't been with anyone else--male or female--in the intervening months since that trip to Oakley. Still, the way the fox's insecurity melded with his sincere eagerness was far more arousing to Morgan than even he thought proper; there was barely a four-year age difference between them, but Kim's inexperience made Morgan think of him, even now, as the nervous, first-year university student he himself had at one time been, experimenting with another male for the first time.

Without any struggle on Kim's part, Morgan got the fox's sweater off, and then he buried his face down into the bright white chest exposed before him. Kim's torso tightened with a breath as Morgan nuzzled his snout in at his front, only to let it out as a weak yelp when the wolf liked and nibbled around his nipple before making his way up to the crook of the fox's neck. The fox's nervous breathing turned into excited panting and whining, and it stopped entirely for a second as Morgan took the fox's throat into a soft play-bite.

When Morgan released Kim's neck and instead began to nuzzle in at his shoulder, the fox leaned his head back against the wall and moaned, "Oh, God, I... I haven't been able to stop thinking of you." Morgan flushed up with encouragement, and he bore his weight harder against Kim, digging the stiff ridge between his thighs in against the fox's slender hip. More moaning ensued, but this time, failed to form words.

Such a poor, eager little fox, months alone with just his own paw to keep him company. Morgan didn't think that he'd ever be able to last that long, and so he could only imagine what it felt like for Kim, now, right at the cusp of the end of his dry spell. The fox was definitely hard (Morgan could tell that much without even needing to feel between his legs), and the needy urgency in his breathing was tantamount to begging.

Morgan set one of his paws flat against the wall, right next to Kim's head, and he hooked the other into the front of the fox's pants. "Come on," the wolf whispered, dragging his fox with him by the waistband, using momentum and leverage to swing the fox around and onto the lower bunk where Morgan had slept the night before. Kim let out a yip of surprise, but his face was awash with delight as he lay on his back, looking up at the larger wolf as he worked his way out of his own sweater.

"Now," Morgan said, getting down onto the bed, knees to either side of Kim's thighs, "where were we?" When Kim opened his mouth to answer, the wolf kissed him as he had before, passion urging him to devour that sweet muzzle with possessive fierceness. Kim squirmed, his legs worming back and forth between Morgan's own, and the wolf, still thinking clearly enough to show the both of them the time of their lives--or, at the very least, the time of their afternoon--reached down and used his thick fingers to get the fox's pants open. The front flap practically sprang open as the pressure was taken off of the fox's erection, and Morgan moaned into the kiss as his nose caught the scent of arousal anew.

Kim's paws were more awkward and fumbling, but they were well-intentioned, feeling out the wolf's chest and belly and his back and his shoulders, the touches of someone who had really, truly been missing him. When Morgan pulled back after opening Kim's pants, the fox whined, snatching the wolf by the wrist and yanking that paw back into place, pressing those fingers down and wrapping them around the damp little tent in the fox's underpants. The wolf's nostrils huffed out a breath as he chuckled in amusement, glad that little Kim had learned something about how to play with the big boys from their times together. After all, there were plenty of cute, easy foxes to be found in North Hillderry's gay scene, and while some of them might edge out Kim here in terms of straight-up physical attractiveness, even that one act of direct assertiveness gave the arctic fox big points in Morgan's book.

Not only was Kim a tad bit assertive, but he was also more than just a little bit leaky, even by vulpine standards. Morgan had almost forgotten that about the fox, but already, the thin layer of fabric that separated the wolf's paw from the flesh of the fox's shaft was soaked through with sticky dampness. Hell, Morgan mused that Kim might have made a pretty effective top if he weren't already such a wonderful bottom. Besides, as nice as such copious natural lubricant might be, it would take an act of God to keep the wolf from mounting the fox, the thought of doing so having burned itself deep into his mind ever since he'd received the invitation to come along on this here ski trip.

Morgan broke away from the kiss and engulfed one of the fox's stubby ears with his lips and tongue. "You want to get fucked, don't you, kiddo?" he said in a husky whisper, his paw tightening down around the stiff bit of flesh it was stroking. Kim bit his lip and squeaked, just nodding his head eagerly in reply as another whine echoed out from the back of his throat softly.

With that, Morgan pushed back off of the fox, straightening back up onto his knees. He looked down into Kim's face and reached down to undo his own pants, but before he could even get his zipper undone, Kim had leaned up and swatted those paws out the way, working to get those pants open himself. The wolf laughed with amusement and arousal both, taking a now-free paw and ruffling Kim between the ears. "Oooh. Someone seems to have gotten over his shyness," he purred to the fox.

"Uh-huh." Kim kept his attention on the catch of the wolf's pants, not bothering to look up or even nod. His inexperience at getting another person's fly undone in the heat of the moment showed, but Morgan knew that he'd never learn without practice, so he contented himself to let the fox do it all himself, even if it took five extra agonizing seconds before his own shaft was finally free. Kim let out a breath that sounded like a chirp when he'd achieved his goal, and his slender fingers had far less trouble in peeling the wolf's boxer shorts down. Morgan swore that he could see the fox's eyelids flutter when he look a breath in through his nose.

Without another word, Kim wrapped his lips down around the wolf's tip, making Morgan growl with satisfaction as he felt that warmth, that dampness, and that soft, delicate touch. Kim's eagerness built, too, evidenced by the way he started to suck, right off the bat, good and hard, the sides of his muzzle pursing visibly inwards as he leaned in, groaning.

"Oh, hey, easy," the wolf said, reaching down to cup one of Kim's cheeks. When Kim didn't soften his assault right away, Morgan pushed back on that cheek, some, just a tiny bit of pressure. "Ease up, hon. It's okay." The fox stopped, leaving his lips in place but no longer sucking. "Don't just slobber: take your time, enjoy yourself." For a moment, Morgan felt nothing, thinking that he might have offended the fox a bit too much with his insistence, but then, a much softer, much more pleasant suckling started up, and so the wolf groaned out his approval and stroked that delicate, white-furred cheek. Hey, it might have been blunt and crass to criticize technique so openly with a beginner, but Kim was going to have to learn how to suck dick sooner or later.

Still, Kim caught on quickly, just as he always had, suppressing his own hungry desire in favor of a more tender, deliberate approach. "Oh, hon, that's it. That's much better," the wolf said, wanting the fox to soak up the praise, to turn it into fuel, to condition himself into knowing what to do on instinct alone. Kim opened his eyes and looked up into Morgan's face, and the wolf could see the enjoyment in those eyes. He rewarded the fox with another quick petting between the ears, which made the fox shut his eyes again as he went back to work.

Slowly and steadily, back and forth that young and pretty muzzle went. Morgan watched, staring at the fox's concentrating face, staring at his own thick shaft as its glistening wet flesh disappeared and reappeared. Another minute or so of this, and Kim would be fighting and sputtering to swallow down fast enough to keep from making a mess of himself. He'd done a fine job of that back in Oakley, this one night, but that had been after a couple days of Morgan getting to indulge himself in other pleasurable activities; who knew if Kim would be able to handle the intense onrush of a wolf who hadn't gotten off in over three days?

That was all a moot point, though, since Morgan didn't plan on giving the fox a chance to try. He knew that Kim was expecting the change-up, anyway, and so, before the wolf got too much closer to his limits, he put his paw back on the fox's cheek and nudged him to a stop. There was no need for an exchange of words, only one of glances, and Kim nodded back up to the wolf before he'd even drawn his muzzle all the way back.

Morgan crawled back so that he was no longer straddling Kim's lower body, and he caught onto the legs of the fox's pants, pulling on them as the fox crawled back out from underneath him. By the time the fox finished scampering back up into a sitting position, he was nude save for the skimpy pair of underpants with the dark wet stain on the front. He made short work of those, however, panting out soft little chuckles of excitement as Morgan rid himself of his own pants.

The two naked canids pulled each other into an embrace and kissed again, although they didn't lock their muzzles firmly as they had before; this time, Morgan was moving Kim around more directly, which necessitated more freedom of movement on his part, as well as the fox's own. First, the wolf laid the fox out beneath him on his back, but when he reached down the spread those soft, white thighs, he noticed a look of unvoiced discomfort on the fox's face. Kim was still eager, that much was easy to tell, but he was shy about eye contact and didn't look fully 'settled,' spread out on his back like he was, so Morgan cradled the fox's hips, rubbed them for a while, and then turned the fox over onto his tummy. Even without looking into Kim's face, the wolf felt that the fox was more relaxed, and that would be better than both of them.

Kim helpfully brushed his own tail aside as Morgan leaned in over the fox's back. Even with the cold room, the arctic fox's thick pelt was nice and warm, and its scent comforted Morgan further still. The wolf sighed and growled into one of Kim's ears as his shaft brushed through the fur on the fox's backside, before that warm white form beneath him shuddered with near-virginal hesitation. A pair of sturdy paws pressed in against Kim's sides, stilling him, feeling his body heat. "Just relax," Morgan whispered, knowing that the reassurance was strictly for show.

The wolf gyrated his hips slowly, holding in his groans as his wet member brushed back and forth through the fur of Kim's backside, next to the base of his tail and down between his fluffy rump cheeks. Kim squirmed, once more coming across as excited and anxious at the same time. Testingly, Morgan brought the tip of his shaft into position underneath the fox's tail and pushed, not enough to make its way into that tight opening, but just enough to elicit the lovely squeak that the wolf had been hoping to hear. With his ears thus rewarded, the wolf held still and held steady, allowing himself to leak out against that furless little spot, pressure increasing so gradually that Kim probably wouldn't notice. Then, holding his own breath, Morgan snatched up one of the fox's ears between his teeth, biting with lip-covered teeth and tugging sharply as he pushed his hips forward, grunting as his tip plus an extra inch or two sank right on in.

Kim whined, his muzzle dropping open, his breath fogging up the tiny glass window next to the bed. He kept still, leaving his own hips flush against the mattress, waiting for Morgan to finish the job. He didn't tremble fearfully, though--not like he had the first time Morgan had gotten him into very nearly this same position--but rather, he was acquiescent, and he was trusting, albeit possibly only barely. That he was trusting at all, though, meant that as Morgan slid himself in deeper still, the fox whimpered less and less, even as his body tried to resist. He'd get used to it in time, the wolf knew, and, he reminded himself, it had been months since the fox had been taken last. All things considered, Morgan was somewhat surprised when he finally finished hilting himself and Kim only let out a dull, groaning sigh of mild discomfort instead of a full-fledged yelp of pain.

"Good fox." Morgan stroked his paws up and down Kim's sides. He'd remembered how nice the fox felt, of course, but actually having him again was blissful almost beyond what his mind would take. He wanted to take his time, wanted to enjoy the little moments and to train the inexperienced fox himself from the ground-up, but he didn't know, now, whether his body would be so kind as to comply.

Kim didn't reply, but then, Kim never talked during sex (other than the occasional "That hurts" or "Okay, that's better"). His responses were mostly just nods and quiet vocalizations that were all a more practiced wolf like Morgan needed in order to tell how well he was (or wasn't) pleasuring his partner. Kim had his own unique body language, just like every boy did, but Morgan had learned to read that, as well--such as knowing that Kim's paws always scrambled to clutch and grab at the edge of the mattress the first time the wolf started to pull his hips back. Morgan smiled when he saw him do it again, and he stared at those grabbing white paws for an extra moment or two before he pushed back down into Kim's rear, the fox's head leaning back with a moan, the tip of the wolf's snout bumping him between the ears.

And so it was just like that that Morgan built up his rhythm, caressing the arctic fox's sides at the same pace, quickening the movements of his paws a few seconds in advance of quickening his hips to match, telegraphing his plan to the fox. Kim held on tight to the mattress, and before long, he let his head down and turned it sideways, his gaped-open muzzle poking into his own arm. He looked so beautiful like that, Morgan thought, like he was helplessly surrendered to pleasure; it was almost enough to spark a bit of envy in the wolf, but instead, he turned that into empathy, allowing himself to indulge in his own pleasure as the fox's tight passage stayed good and snug around his thrusting shaft, even after being stretched and slickened.

The fox then began to move more than usual--more than Morgan recalled as usual, at least. He didn't brace up onto his forearms in order to push back up into the wolf's downward thrusts, but he did start to squirm and clench, more assertiveness showing through even now. At the same time, he was probably enjoying himself by grinding his erection down against the sheets. There were too many other stronger scents in the room for Morgan to be able to tell just how aroused or drizzly Kim might have gotten, but by now, that was second to focusing on not just pounding the fox's rump outright; he knew that he should probably be more gentle than he might be otherwise, even if the burning need to tie was starting to take over.

Kim's squeals and pants of delight showed no further lingering hints of discomfort or pain, though, even as the base of Morgan's shaft started to swell up and his hips started to pump up and down both harder and faster. Oh, he was getting close, now, probably not to last as long as he'd hoped but at least to last longer than he'd expected. The sounds ushering forth from Kim's clenched-up throat made it hard for Morgan to concentrate on anything else, and as he closed his eyes to savor those squeaky vulpine noises, he found himself sailing clear past the limits of his pleasure, completing the tie, emptying himself out with tense spurts that made his entire body shake. He growled with his pleasure, let it wash over him, and he nuzzled down into the fox's scruff, nearly biting down onto it before stopping himself.

The rush of blood in Morgan's ears took a minute or so to calm down, and only when it finally did could the wolf hear Kim's own satisfied, post-mating whimpers. He mewled in blissful exhaustion, sounding almost like a tuckered-out kit, and Morgan gave in to the desire to roll over onto his side and grab the fox up into a big, warm hug against his front. "Oh, fox," he murmured back into Kim's ear. "You liked that a lot, didn't you?" A telltale scent soaked itself into Morgan's nostrils as the two canids rolled over, exposing a wide, fresh damp spot on the bed under where the fox's hips had been.

"Uh-huh," Kim squeaked back, too tired, it seemed, to even nod his head. He let his weight slump back in the wolf's arms, his heart slamming so hard that Morgan could even feel it through his back.

Part of Morgan just wanted to curl up and take a nap. This was the first time he'd ever had Kim in the middle of the day, before, and he wanted the selfish indulgence of just relaxing carelessly while tied to the younger fox. "You sleepy?" the wolf asked, nosing in around the edge of an ear.

"Mmm, kinda," the fox admitted, curling up a little on himself as the wolf cuddled him. "Probably... probably shouldn't sleep, though. The guys might come back."

Morgan was less worried about feeling embarrassed than he was about such a walk-in killing the mood, really. Kim, though, would probably be mortified. "Well, so long as you realize that we're not getting out of bed right away," the wolf pointed out, wriggling his hips for emphasis.

Kim giggled and squirmed, reaching back to bat a paw weakly at Morgan's hip. "Yeah, yeah, I know how it works," he teased. He took a few breaths and calmed down a little more. "We should probably think about getting out onto the slopes, though, after this."

"You think you can ski after this?" Morgan asked, patting the fox's backside. "Well, you're welcome to try."

"I'm a lousy skier anyway. Nobody'll notice."

Morgan didn't say anything. He didn't know whether Kim was just being coy, or whether he really hadn't thought things through far enough to realize that when Jamie or Jimmy or whoever came back to the room later that evening, the room was still going to smell like sex; even a ringtail would be able to tell that much. Still, not wanting to break the mood, the wolf kept quiet, holding the fox in his arms, petting over his warm pelt until they were able to separate, and thereafter to get themselves cleaned off and ready to hit the slopes as Kim suggested.

Skiing hadn't ever been one of Morgan's favorite pastimes (and it certainly hadn't been the main draw in coming along on the trip), but he found it enjoyable enough way to spend a few hours. To make things even better, though, Kim seemed to have an almost limitless supply of energy, which made Morgan feel a lot older than he really was, by contrast, but which still made him smile. Even the fox's school pals were fun to hang around with, even if the wolf still had trouble keeping their names straight in his head.

There was something about the way that Kim carried himself in an active situation like skiing. Granted, Morgan didn't know the fox very well at all outside the context of a few dinners, a few nights in the bedroom, and a few exchanges over the computer, but he seemed much more vibrant, here, than he ever came across before. Maybe it was just that Morgan had gotten to know Kim after such a heinous family incident, but the fox had always seemed a lot more subdued, in a lot of ways, during their time together in Oakley. Out here, though, that dourness was gone, making the already pleasant-to-be-around fox that much more charming.

On the flipside, Kim also didn't let his closeness to Morgan show around his friends. He didn't shy away if the wolf got close--nothing that crass, thankfully--but he seemed overly careful about spending too much exclusive time with Morgan, as if he really wanted his friends to believe that this guy who was a few years older than any of them and who lived on the other side of the country was really just some other friend. Morgan didn't want to give the impression that the two of them were a couple or anything, but it was mostly just baffling that Kim would hide the fact that he played on his own side of the fence; it wasn't all that uncommon, certainly, and if you couldn't be open about your sexuality with your university buddies, who could you be open with?

Dinner back at the ski lodge, at least, wasn't awkward. Kim sat next to Morgan, and also next to the red-furred vixen who had come along (Jessica? Jennifer?). The ringtail teased Kim and Morgan some more about having taken so long to get off their duffs and get to skiing with the rest of them, but he just made them promise that they'd have an earlier start the next morning. Apparently, he hadn't been back up to the room, yet.

It was the wolf named Huxley, though (Morgan remembered the name Huxley, at least), who let the big secret drop at dinner table while they all waited for coffee:

"So, Kim, have your parents set a new date for your big day yet?"

Kim pointedly avoided looking over at Morgan as he lifted his head back up and flinched. "Y-yeah," he said, fiddling his thumbs in against the edge of the table. "Well, kind of. I was able to convince them to just hold off and let me wait until I'm done with my degree."

The vixen giggled. "Oh, good luck with that, then!" she teased. "At this rate, I expect you to start failing on purpose!" The rest of the table then joined in the laughter, clearly all of them sharing in the in-joke. Morgan could tell from the way that Kim still wasn't acknowledging him that the fox didn't plan on volunteering information anytime soon.

"You're still set with Mabel, right?" the ringtail asked.

"Yeah," Kim said.

The ringtail flicked his tail and his ears perked with interest. "Are how are you too getting along?"

"She's all right, I guess," Kim said. "I've only met her a couple of times; like I said, nothing's happening until after I'm done with school."

"I think it's official, Kim," the vixen said, grabbing the other fox's paw. "You've got the most preemptive case of wedding jitters that the world has ever seen."

Morgan's ears shot up at the W-word; at the same time, Kim dipped his head down and broke off eye contact with the rest of the table. "It's not jitters," the arctic fox mumbled. "It's just so far off into the future and there's no point in really thinking about it yet."

"Well, Mabel's the lucky one, then--already got a mate lined up for her," the ringtail said. He jabbed a thumb at the vixen. "Try finding the guy who's going to be willing to marry a shrew like her."

"Hey!" the vixen protested, slapping a paw back at the ringtail's shoulder, very nearly knocking the tray of coffee out of the waiter's hands as he showed back up at their table, then, with their order.

Morgan didn't pick up his coffee right away; Kim hid his face behind his.

Conversation shifted away from Kim's bride-to-be and instead went on to focus on school and how long everyone had to go on finishing their respective degrees. There was more playful teasing about how long Kim really 'needed' to take, but the fox shrugged it off, all while avoiding any of Morgan's many questioning looks.

The table was cleared away before long and folks started to head back to the rooms. Morgan went to corner Kim in order to take him aside for a little chat, only to be sidelined by the fox beating him to the punch.

"Hey, step outside with me for a bit," Kim said. "I think I should probably talk to you."

"Yeah, I suppose so," the wolf agreed, and they both walked out one of the lodge's side doors, the early night air a bit cold.

Kim stuffed his paws into his pockets and started to walk off, boots sinking deep into the powdery snow with each step. Morgan trotted along after him, figuring that Kim didn't have much of a destination beyond just "away from the lodge." Without all the skiers bustling about, the little mountainside resort felt oddly isolated, with even the moonlight kept dim thanks to a thin layer of clouds.

"I guess you're wondering what all that talk was about," Kim said when they'd gotten a fair distance away from the building, continuing to walk as he talked.

"You're getting married. I figured out that much."

Kim nodded, still not looking back at the wolf. "That's the plan, at any rate."

"Is this Mabel the same young lady you were having dinner with that night I met you?"

The fox shook his head. "No. Her family called things off after my family's--well, okay, my little outburst."

"So, then, you said you didn't know this Mabel girl that well," Morgan said. "I don't suppose she knows that you have sex with guys, by any chance."

Kim stopped his tromping march. A few seconds later, he finally looked Morgan in the eye. "Nobody knows. Nobody but you, at least."

"Then how come you're getting married?"

"I don't want to," Kim said, almost whining when he said it. "But I can't mess this one up. My parents are lucky they found Mabel at all, after my last screwup."

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Your parents are forcing you to get married?" The wolf didn't even know that people still did that.

"Not 'forcing,'" Kim answered, waffling, fidgeting his paws inside his pants pockets. "'Arranging.' That's the way things work with my family."

"Arranged marriage?" Morgan was in even more disbelief, more than he'd even thought possible. "No offense, but that's kind of weird, don't you think? I mean, it's not like you're royalty or anything." He paused as a thought hit him. "Um, you're not, right?"

Kim shook his head. "No, but try convincing my family of that," he said. "It's just... it's just some high society thing. They need to make sure that only 'proper stock' is used to carry on the family line."

"But you don't want to carry on the family line," Morgan said.

Kim bit his lip. "It's not that," he said, voice dropping close to a whisper. "I mean, I don't mind the thought of starting a family or anything, but I just--"

"Like guys?" Morgan finished for him.

"No!" Kim whined. "Well, I mean, yeah, but... but it's more complicated than that."

Morgan could see the pain twisted up on the fox's face. The kid was trying hard to find the words, the wolf could tell, but something--possibly his sheltered worldview?--was making that problematic. "Well, you seem to want to explain it to me. Just say what you want to say."

Kim nodded and sighed. "I mean, I don't know that I don't like girls, too, for one," he said. "I've never, well, been with one, so maybe... maybe that part would work out fine, yeah?"

"But you're afraid you won't know for sure until it's too late to change your mind?"

"No, no, that's not it!" By now, the fox's pain and despair had risen fully to the surface and had taken over his voice. "I'm just afraid that I might... I might..." His eyes began to well up with tears that Morgan could see even in the dim light, and he muttered something incomprehensible through his sobs.

The wolf reached out and pulled Kim into a soft hug. "Hey, shh, calm down," he said, patting the fox on the back. "It'll be all right. Just tell me." The fox's sorrowful outburst was tugging someplace at the wolf's emotional core; he felt terrible, having to see the little fellow in his state.

Kim sniffled and shook his head. "I can't," he choked out.

"Why not? What's wrong?" Morgan stroked a paw down the back of Kim's neck, down further between his shoulders.

"I'm scared," the fox whispered.

"Scared of what?"

Kim struggled and squirmed in Morgan's embrace, but he managed to pull back far enough to look the wolf in the eyes again, his crying still not having stopped. He opened his muzzle twice in a false start, and then blurted out, "I think I might be in love with you."

Morgan stared back into the fox's bright, teary eyes. To say that confession had been unexpected would have been an understatement.

*

At the time, Morgan hadn't realized the depth of Kim's words. He'd accepted them, but he hadn't considered their full weight. Of course Kim would have thought he was in love with Morgan, at that point; he'd lost his virginity to the wolf, for one, and the intimacy had grown out of that and was amplified by distance. It was almost to be expected, really, if thought about that way. Besides, saying "I think I might be in love with you" wasn't the same thing as saying "I love you."

Kim's words had been painful and heartfelt, and Morgan had... well, he had appreciated them, but he hadn't fully appreciated the sheer courage that the fox must have needed in order to say them. Even then, Morgan had been perfectly fond of Kim, of course, but the magnitude of the fox's confession had escaped him. The wolf hadn't been looking for (or even considering) a relationship with the fox, and having come to terms with his own sexuality some years before, he'd perhaps forgotten what it was like to make such a startling self-discovery.

Now, though, even in the picture of Morgan and Kim just standing next to one another in their ski gear, the wolf could plainly see the fox's love for him. The fox had been so happy, then, so full of life and so full of delight because he was away from his cloistered world and away spending time with the one person he wanted most to spend it with--not just in the bedroom, either.

Cracks began to form in the glossy surface of the heat-distorted photograph. Morgan had been so stupid, then, not simply for discounting the true nature of Kim's emotions, but for not having even stopped to consider that maybe--just maybe--it might not have been such a bad thing to allow himself to love the fox back.

But he hadn't. Not then. The next few photographs, almost charred and singed being any recognition, where pictures Kim had sent from his university days at Oakley. There were party pictures, pictures of friends that Morgan had and had not met, pictures of the fox's parents house, and even one or two suggestive photographs that Kim had taken of himself. The wolf chuckled at one particular image of the arctic fox, topless, with low-riding shorts, but the sound of his laughter was warped due to the way his throat was starting to clutch up again.

For nearly two years after that ski trip, time had drifted by, with Kim making occasional trips to see Morgan and Morgan making occasional trips to see Kim--the wolf all the while sleeping with other people in the interim while the fox dedicated himself to his coursework while trying to avoid thinking about his inevitable marriage to a young lady who was nearly a stranger. Even now, the idea seemed distasteful to Morgan; with wolves, family was an inclusive thing, not a divisive one, and he couldn't understand how these rich foxes from Oakley could bring themselves to practice their mores.

Morgan stopped as he passed yet another photograph through his fingertips. This one, somehow, had been burned nearly in half, and the rest of it had suffered near-total blackening. He stared at it, blinked his eyes a few times, and tried so hard to remember what it had been a picture of, because he wanted--no, he needed to remember what it had been. These, his precious memories, might well be all that had survived the fire, and he needed to keep them.

A shape amidst the blackness finally congealed from his staring. It was familiar--something so familiar he didn't know how he could have missed it: his own head. Beside that was his upper body, stretching off to one side, ending at the waist where the picture had been burned away into nothing. He remembered, now: it was a picture that Kim had taken of him while they'd been on a train from Oakley to nearby Arthen, over four years ago.

That fox had always been so silly, even then.

*

Kim bounced in his seat as the train trucked along. They were crossing the river, now, making their way into Arthen proper, and so the fox clambered up onto his knees and turned to look out the window as they went over the railway bridge. The sun was only just starting to set, and so there was just the faintest tinge of orange on the water.

Morgan sat back and just watched the fox's tail as it swished and wagged back and forth. For someone who was just about to earn his second degree, Kim had a delightful knack for acting like a kit, every now and then. Maybe that was how he dealt with stress, the wolf thought. Or maybe the fox had always been like that. He thought that he should perhaps ask, at some point.

"You said you've never been to Arthen before, right?" Kim asked, still staring out the window opposite where Morgan was sitting.

"Nope," Morgan confirmed. He was excited about getting the chance to, though; he'd been happy enough to finally get to spend time in Oakley again, too. Two years ago, he would have thought that the city's captivating charm would have been the big draw point for that, but by now, the real appeal was in getting to spend time with an energetic fox like Kim.

Kim turned back around and sat back into his seat as the train finished crossing the bridge. "I hope I can remember where all the stuff I want to show you is," he said, reaching over to grab his backpack. He opened it on up and rummaged around inside, withdrawing a snazzy-looking camera.

"What's that for?" Morgan asked.

"To take pictures, silly!"

Morgan laughed. "Well, obviously," he said. "I meant, like, why do you need to take pictures? It's not like we're going someplace you've never been."

Kim shook his head. "Silly," he repeated, snapping a shot of Morgan before setting the camera down into his lap. "You've never been there before; I can send you the pictures after you leave, and that way, you can remember what a good time we'll have had tonight." The tip of the fox's tail flicked against the seat. "And besides, I've never been here with you before, so it'll be new for me, too."

"I think you could probably use the fun," Morgan said as he, too, dragged himself back into a more proper seating position. "When do your finals start again? Next week?"

"Yeah," Kim said with a nod. "I should do okay, though. I'm not too worried."

Morgan flashed him a wink. "I can help take your mind off of things."

"Keep me distracted, at least," the fox replied with a laugh. "Maybe to the point where I won't be able to study at all."

"Hey, you're the one who invited me," Morgan pointed out.

"That I did. But, hey, you'll be out of my fur in a few days, anyway."

A few minutes later, the train pulled into Arthen Central Station, and the two canids disembarked. Morgan walked to the edge of the train platform, with its wide balcony several stories up, providing a good view of the neighborhood. Despite only being just across the river from Oakley, the architecture was so different, almost looking like it could be in a different country.

The one building that particularly caught Morgan's eye was a tall tower, thinner in the middle than it was either above or below, with a glassy geodesic dome on top. Kim stepped up beside the wolf and followed his line of sight. "And that, there, is where I'm taking you for dinner," the fox said. That confirmed Morgan's suspicion that he was looking at Arthen Spire, atop which was a restaurant that would have been well outside of the wolf's means if he didn't have a wealthy fellow like Kim along to treat him.

"Shall we do some walking around, then, and see how hungry we can make ourselves?" Morgan suggested.

Kim patted the wolf on the hip and started walking off. "Sure. After we stop by the hotel and make sure our room is ready for tonight."

The urge to take a quick swing by the room before heading out on the town was strong, but Morgan resisted; the least he could do was allow the fox to buy him dinner, first, before giving him the ravishing he'd been wanting to give him for over half a year, now. Kim's own body language suggested that he was looking forward to much the same, but he, too, exercised patience in favor of spending less lascivious time together.

The fox's exuberance carried them both through the bustling downtown area. Morgan was almost overwhelmed by the massive, highway-spanning shopping and entertainment center, but trying to keep up with Kim ensured that he didn't have enough time to sit and worry. There were a lot of sights that Kim wanted him to see, that was for sure, and Morgan noticed that the fox started to get edgy, even, if the wolf wasn't right in line with wherever their excitement was supposed to be directed.

It got worse when they hit the more state-of-the-art shopping arcades. "Do you see anything you'd like?" "Were you looking at anything in particular?" "I could buy that for you, if you really want it." Kim's mood was friendly and Morgan was sure that the offers were well-intentioned, but it just seemed weird and a bit incongruous to how the fox usually acted. He was always so nice, anyway; there was no reason for him to have to buy the wolf's friendship and affection, so why was he suddenly trying now?

"Come on," Kim said, nearly jogging in place on the sidewalk as he waited for Morgan to catch up to him. "Let's head on over and get dinner, yeah?"

Morgan tried to read the fox's face. Nothing looked amiss, but the wolf was still unsettled. "Hey, actually, about that," he said.

"Yeah?" Kim blinked with confusion.

"Did you want to maybe eat someplace else?" Morgan asked. "You know, someplace simple and quieter?"

Kim furrowed his brow. "Why, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I just thought it might be nice to eat someplace else."

"But Arthen Spire is really nice!" the fox protested. "If it's about the money, don't worry about it; I'll pay for you."

Morgan shook his head. "It's not about the money. I just don't know if I'm in the mood for 'fancy' tonight."

Confusion blossomed out over Kim's face. "But, I mean... you said you would."

"I know. But now that I'm here, I think I'd rather just do something more ordinary."

"You don't want to go to dinner with me?"

Morgan bit back a growl. "I do want to go to dinner with you. But that's just it: I want to go to dinner with you, not make some big huge production out of--"

"But what's wrong with doing something nice?" Kim said, begging for a response. A few passersby looked their direction and went about their business. "I want to do something nice for you!"

"This whole trip is nice," Morgan pointed out. "I think a quiet dinner would be nice, too."

Kim shook his head. "But then that's not special enough."

"'Special enough' for what?" the wolf asked. Kim's gaze started to waver, and then, so did his lips.

"For... for this. For us." The fox gestured aimlessly with his paws. "I mean, I just..."

Morgan put a paw on Kim's shoulder. "Kim, what is it?" he asked. "Why are you trying so hard to impress me?"

Kim let out a sorrowful whimper. "Because I want you to have nice memories of me," he said, his voice staying just barely level enough until he got the last word out, at which point he started to cry.

Not even thinking about the fact that they were standing out in public, Morgan went to pull Kim into a hug, but even before he could, the fox collapsed against the wolf's chest and wrapped his own arms tight around him. The little vulpine shuddered and shook with heavy sobs. Morgan held him up and stroked his hair, lowering his muzzle so that he could speak into the fox's ears. "Kim, please, tell me what's wrong."

"I'm afraid," the fox cried, barely catching his breath in between sobs. "I'm afraid that this is the last time I'll ever get to spend time with you, and I wanted it to be special."

Morgan held the fox tighter. "Why do you think you won't get to spend time with me after this?" he asked.

Kim sniffled and managed to stem his crying, if only a little, but his words were at least easier to understand. "Because I'm done with school in a month and then there's going to be Mabel and things."

The wolf frowned, and stroked the fox between the ears again. "Are you still going to do that, then?" The fox nodded. "I thought you said that wouldn't be until next year."

"It's not," Kim said, his tears coming harder, again. "But there's this whole... courtship... thing, and it's all really important and I hate it and I don't want to but I have to and I hate it and I just want tonight to be special for you."

"So then tonight can be special," Morgan said. "Tonight, then, just you and me."

The fox's breathing sounded heavy and wet, and he pressed his face in against Morgan's chest, shaking his head, the dampness of his tears seeping into the wolf's shirt. "I just hate this so much," the fox cried. "It just kills me to feel this way and I wish I could just stop and be normal."

Morgan didn't care who was watching, now. He nuzzled down at Kim's cheek, pressing in affectionately as the fox rambled and vented his worries. "Tonight can still be special," he whispered, not bothering to hide the little kiss he gave the fox.

Kim looked up, and his damp little nostrils huffed and squeaked with a muffled breath. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad at you," the wolf assured. "Don't be silly." Kim still looked weary and drained, but his tears were beginning to taper off. "Come on. You know you'll still always be my friend."

The fox squeaked as he swallowed, and then just quietly nodded his head.

"Come on," Morgan said, straightening the fox out and stepping out of the embrace. "Why don't we go over to Arthen Spire, have a bite to eat, and then call it an early night, okay?"

Kim nodded again, silently, his eyes beginning to dry.

*

And so, Morgan had tried his best to make that night special for Kim. It was tough, though, because he never knew if he was doing enough or if he was doing too much or what. Kim was such a dear, dear friend to him, and Morgan cared about him so much, but the fox just came from this strange world that the wolf didn't understand. The rules that applied to Morgan didn't apply to Kim, and nobody had written a manual to explain what to do.

Had that night been special, after all? Morgan liked to think so. After Kim's emotional outpouring, the fancy dinner that followed was actually, despite the wolf's initial misgivings, very nice, and it wasn't long before the fox had started to smile again. Then, after dinner, as planned, they headed back to their hotel and spent a long, slow night in one another's arms, and Kim didn't have to worry about his family or his future, even if it was only for a little while.

There had been more pictures: pictures from the shopping center, pictures from the top of Arthen Spire, pictures of the bright, bustling streets, and so on. Now, though, as far as Morgan could tell from looking through the shoebox, the only thing that remained was the half-burned, barely-discernible picture of himself on that train.

Morgan reached up and rubbed the side of his face. To his surprise, he felt some dampness in the fur of his cheek. He wasn't crying now, though, and he didn't quite remember either starting or stopping.

Kim hadn't sent along many more pictures after that. After earning his degree, he went right on into the formal courtship of that young lady Mabel. Kim still kept in touch with Morgan, to an extent, but communication was less frequent as well as less robust, like the fox didn't have as much to say--or didn't have as much that he wanted to talk about.

This so-called high society courtship and arranged marriage deal was still just as baffling to Morgan. He felt bad even asking Kim for details, and so in the end, he hadn't gotten many. Updates on the subject mostly came in the form of "Mabel is nice" or "Her family is nice" or "My parents think we look nice together" or "There's a nice ceremony planned for late spring." There were certainly no sentiments like "I miss you" or "I wish things could have been more special."

Which was exactly how Morgan realized the fox must have been feeling the entire time; even he realized that much. Kim's courtship of Mabel had taken the better part of a year, and for the duration, Morgan wanted to think about Kim as little as possible, but the fox kept cropping back up in his mind, even if a month or more sometimes passed between hearing from him.

Near the very bottom of the eroded shoebox, Morgan spied a wrinkled envelope. He didn't recognize it right away; it was singed around the edges, but when he opened it up, he found that the contents had been spared.

It was just a single photograph. That's all that had come in the envelope, Morgan remembered. When he pulled it out, he looked at the back of it, first, and read the words penned in a familiar scrawl:

Morgan,

Here's a picture of me and Mabel at her parents' dinner party (that's her mom's arm on the right, by the way). The ceremony is just three weeks away, now. I'm nervous but also kind of excited.

Sincerely,

Kim

Morgan flipped the picture over. The young lady sitting next to Kim was certainly pretty enough, the wolf acknowledged, and even if he didn't find her 'attractive,' he thought her light blue dress was nice. Kim was wearing a formal shirt, a jacket and tie, and a smile that looked absolutely nothing like any smile Morgan had ever seen on the fox's face, even in what the wolf knew full well were some of their happiest moments together.

*

The last two weeks had work had been extra tough. Arthur Brindle had been forced into sudden early retirement due to a failing heart, and everyone else now had to bust their tails in order to pick up the slack. Perhaps more importantly, though, was the fact that a replacement for his director position had not yet been filled.

Unfortunately, Brindle had been transferred from the Arthen office to North Hillderry a couple years back, which meant that Morgan would be stuck in North Hillderry if he did get picked for the job. He'd be able to put up with it, though, if he were pulling in a director's salary, and so, for this past couple of weeks, he'd been putting in extra work not only just to pick up the slack, but also to distinguish himself by taking charge of whatever needed to be done, in order to show his reliability and skill.

The downside to all the extra work meant that Morgan had been staying in the office until well into the night every day. By the time the weekends rolled around, he was so tired that he just used them to catch up on sleep. He felt like he could scarcely remember when he'd last had a night out, had last gotten to just hit the bars, have a few drinks, flirt with some handsome strangers. A few local guys had called him, asking where he'd been and if he wanted to meet up at some point, but with no end to his busy streak in sight, he'd had to turn them down.

Tonight, at least, he'd gotten out of the office early enough to grab some takeout, which almost felt luxurious when compared to the canned and frozen meals he'd been making for himself in the wee hours, lately. It'll all be worth it, he told himself as he trudged up the stairwell to his apartment. Once you have the job, you can stop working at it.

After dragging himself up to the fourth floor, he let out a sigh of relief, tail sagging as he took a few seconds to lean against the wall and catch his breath. God, he was beat. With no time to eat or sleep, though, maybe he'd be able to shed a few extra pounds before fitting himself for the more fancy jackets he might need to wear as director.

Pushing himself through the door from the stairwell into the hallway, Morgan almost tripped over his own feet at what he saw. A familiar white shape was resting up against the door to his apartment, sitting on the corridor floor, hunched up over itself, head between knees, paws atop head.

Morgan swallowed a dry breath. "Kim?" he asked, staying back at his end of the hallway.

The arctic fox slowly lifted his head up, and then he blinked several times as he turned to look at the wolf. "Oh, Morgan," he said, dreariness clogging his voice before he cleared his throat. "Sorry. I thought you'd be home."

"Me? Why aren't you at home?" the wolf asked, finally approaching the fox, who was scrabbling his way to his feet. Morgan could see, now, that the fox had brought his backpack with him.

"I hope I'm not intruding," Kim said as he took a step away from the door. "Is this a bad time?"

Morgan ignored the question. "Kim, what are you doing here?" he asked. He was worried, and moreover, he was confused, so much that he couldn't even come up with a reason for why the fox would be waiting at his doorstep.

"I wanted to see you," Kim said.

"You usually let me know when you're coming." Morgan had intended the remark as a little joke, in order to buy a few extra moments for his mind to catch up with the situation, but then his mind did suddenly catch up, and he winced. "Wait, Kim, aren't you supposed to be getting married in a few days?"

The fox nodded. "Three days, yeah," he confirmed. "I mean, I'm supposed to, least."

Morgan felt a twinge of anxiety. "Oh, God, Kim, what did you do?" he asked, taking one of the fox's paws in both his own.

"Can we go inside, first?" Kim asked, turning away so that Morgan couldn't look him in the eye.

The wolf let go of the fox's paw. He stood there a moment, just looking at the kid; he looked so pitiful and ashamed. Withdrawing his keys from his pocket, Morgan unlocked the door and walked on inside, saying nothing as Kim followed him in. The fox set his backpack down on the floor, in the corner. "Are you sure I'm okay to be here?" he asked Morgan.

"Are you sure you're okay to be here?" the wolf asked in return. "Kim, tell me what's going on."

Kim paced aimlessly, tail bereft of its usual liveliness. "I don't know," he said. "I guess I just thought I needed to come here. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," Morgan said, watching Kim slump down onto the couch. "Kim, are you supposed to be home right now?"

"My rehearsal dinner was supposed to be tonight," the fox said. He looked at his watch. "Probably right now, actually." He let out a bemused laugh. "I guess I'm probably in trouble."

Morgan made his way over to the couch and sat down with Kim. "How did you get here?" the wolf asked.

"The bus," Kim said without looking up. "Well, three buses, technically. I got here a few hours ago and so I've just been waiting."

Memories of that evening in Oakley, where a younger Kim had brashly stormed out on his parents in the middle of a formal engagement came floating to mind. The wolf hadn't seen the fox ever act that way since then, but somehow, in retrospect, it almost wasn't a surprise to see Kim here now. "Why did you run off?" Morgan asked, petting Kim on the shoulder. "I thought you said you were looking forward to this."

"Can we... can we not talk about this right now?" Kim asked. Morgan looked back at the fox in quiet confusion, and then, in the next moment, Kim leaned in with clear intent to kiss him.

Morgan put his paws on the fox's chest and held him back. "No, Kim, I think we have to talk about it," he said. "I need to know what's going on, first."

Kim let out an exasperated but painful whine. "I don't know what's going on!" he sniffed. "I'm worried that I'm not ready for this."

"So why haven't you said anything?" Morgan asked. "Why haven't you told Mabel or her parents?"

The fox let out another sigh. "Well, because... because I don't know that I'm not ready. Maybe everything will be fine."

Morgan cupped the fox's chin and made sure that they were eye-to-eye with one another. "You don't sound like you're going to be fine," the wolf said. He tried to think of how he wanted to phrase himself; it was almost too embarrassing to even say, but he knew that he had to. "Is this because of the whole... 'she's a girl' thing?"

Kim nodded stiffly. "Kind of. I mean, yeah," he said.

"I thought you said that you liked her," Morgan said. "That you two got along real well."

"Oh, we do," Kim replied. "But I still don't know if it's going to work... er, y'know, that way."

"You haven't tried anything yet?" Morgan asked, raising an eyebrow. Wow, just how cloistered was Kim down there in Oakley, anyway?

The fox shook his head. "Not until after the wedding," he said. Then, as if sensing the forthcoming question from Morgan, he answered it preemptively: "The first kiss is at the wedding ceremony itself; that's just how this sort of thing works."

Morgan decided, then, that he was never going to understand the mindset of folks like Kim's family. "You haven't even kissed her? God, it's bad enough that you haven't done anything else, but... I mean, seriously, how are you supposed to know whether or not you even want to be with her?"

"I think the idea is that I'm already supposed to want to be with her," Kim replied. "Nice young man, nice pretty vixen, pair them together, and now you've got a marriage. What's not to like about that?"

"I can think of a few things to start."

"Yeah, so can I," Kim said, nodding. "It's not my place to say, though; this is probably my last chance."

Morgan shrugged. "Well, what if you just don't want to get married?" he suggested. "Why not just tell your family that?"

"Because they'd probably disown me and then accuse me of being a faggot."

"Well, you kind of are," Morgan pointed out, a chuckle slipping into his voice despite his not wanting one to. Kim's face scrunched up, but before the fox could say anything, the wolf continued. "But no, seriously, what's the problem? You're an adult, you've got two degrees--you don't need your parents to run your life."

Kim shook visibly. "But I don't want them to be disappointed in me."

"Well, screw them!" Morgan barked. "You're going to let yourself be miserable for the rest of life just because of that?"

"N-no, it's not like that," Kim insisted, looking away.

"So then what's it like?"

"Well, Mabel, she's..." The fox stopped, wringing his paws together, matting the fur down from the repeated motion. "She's a really, really sweet girl, and I think she really likes me, and so... maybe I'll be happy with that, yeah?"

Morgan sighed and shook his head. "Kim, honey," he said, forcibly taking the fox's paw back into his own again. "If getting married is something that you want to do, then you can go ahead and do it, but you need to be honest with yourself, and you need to be honest with Mabel." He squeezed the fox's paw. "Even if you don't necessarily tell her parents or your parents anything."

Kim took a deep breath and held it, and then he squeezed Morgan's paw back. "Yeah, but, like, what about you?" he asked, leaning in just enough to nose at the wolf's snout.

"Me?" Morgan asked, chuckling. "Hey, if you're happy, I'm happy."

The fox shook his head and then nuzzled again. "No. I mean, like, what about me and you?"

Morgan gave Kim's body the once over and he clicked his tongue. "Well, I mean, sure, I'll miss... certain aspects of our relationship," the wolf admitted. "But I won't stop being friends with you just because I can't have sex with you anymore."

Kim hummed deeply, and he dragged the tip of his tongue along the wolf's mouth. "You know, this here might be our last chance, then," he whispered, trailing a claw down along the wolf's chest, following the sternum. He took a breath, hesitated, and then asked, "Did you want to?"

A more rational part of Morgan's mind told him that he should pick one of the dozen perfectly obvious reasons why he ought to decline, but with the fox so close and so intimate as he was, the wolf's body was less inclined to refuse outright. "What, like, right here?" he asked.

"If you want to do it right here," Kim replied, kissing Morgan on the cheek.

Morgan leaned back, cupping Kim's cheek, in turn, and he gazed into the fox's face. He really was such an adorable fox, so earnest and--even after all these years--so seemingly innocent. "How about the bedroom?" he suggested instead.

Without a word, Kim stood up from the couch and slowly walked off toward Morgan's bedroom; the fox knew full well where it was. Morgan got up and followed suit, unbutton his shirt collar and unthreading his tie as he walked. He got two more buttons undone before he crossed over into the bedroom, finding Kim standing and waiting for him.

The fox grabbed Morgan and pulled him into a kiss, whimper eagerly as his paws went for the wolf's remaining shirt buttons. The slight clumsiness the fox demonstrated was more a mark of being out of practice than being inexperienced, though, and he was quickly settling back into the groove of things. Morgan let out his pent-up stress and tension from work, and he transformed that into passion as he snarled hungrily into the kiss.

He's supposed to be getting married in three days, chimed a voice in the back of Morgan's head, but the wolf handily ignored it, allowing the pleasure of the moment to guide his actions, to guide his paws to the fox's backside, squeezing and kneading and lifting the little fella off of his feet for a moment. Kim let Morgan's shirt fall open, and then he moved on to the wolf's belt, and then his slacks, fingers slipping out of place in a rush of excitement.

The wolf was nearly fully hard by the time that Kim got his bare-furred paw in there. The fox tore away from the kiss and started to nibble at Morgan's exposed throat, murmuring and whispering all the way, the words getting lost as his teeth and lips caught on flesh and fur. That small, warm paw squeezed and dragged and traced with familiarity that hadn't faded. Morgan hooked his claws into the hem of Kim's shirt, in back, and then went to lift it up off of him.

Kim took a step back in order to get his shirt the rest of the way off, and then he took the opportunity to start taking his own pants off. Morgan slipped out of his open shirt and wiggled out of his slacks and boxers, too, naked and erect and more than happy to see that Kim was soon likewise. Something in the fox's eyes smacked of impatience; Morgan wondered if he could convince the fox to take his time, instead, but then he figured that there was nothing that said they couldn't have another go afterwards.

Morgan took a seat at the edge of his bed, and then leaned back with his weight braced on his paws. He looked into Kim's eyes, then took a single look down at his cock, poking up stiff and partly slick between his legs, and then looked back up at the fox. Kim accepted that wordless invitation by padding over to Morgan, setting his paws on the wolf's shoulders, bracing his own weight as he slid into the wolf's lap.

They kissed again, tongues entwining and muzzles locking. Morgan kneaded at Kim's back and shoulders, and Kim's tail swished down excitedly between the wolf's knees. Squeaking into the kiss, Kim ground his erection against Morgan's abdomen and pushed his own fluffy rump down against the shaft he straddled. The tone of Morgan's pleasant growling rose, and he nearly squeaked a little himself when he felt Kim reach down and grab his member down by the base.

As eager as Kim might be, Morgan didn't think that the fox was really quite that eager, so he stayed the fox's actions by taking hold of his wrist. "Easy there," he whispered, pecking the fox on the cheek when he saw the look of confusion on his face. With his free paw, Morgan reached over for his nightstand, pulled open the drawer, and fished out the smooth black bottle of lube he kept there. He went about unscrewing the cap with one hand, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger, and when he'd gotten it open, the cap slipped from his fingertips and skittered across the floor, ending up someplace Morgan didn't see. He didn't care, though, either, and he went right about slickening his fingers, making sure they were good and slippery before teasing them underneath Kim's lovely tail.

The fox leaned his head back, exposing his throat in such a way that stirred the wolf's own instincts. He wanted to lean in and claim that clean, white expanse with his jaws, wanted to hold the fox good and tight as he just rutted up under the boy's tail, but even in his aroused state, his reason was able to win out at least a little bit. Instead, he continued his tender probing of Kim's now-slippery little rear passage, indulging himself by forcing whimper after whimper out of the tense, excited fox. He got one last moan as he slipped his fingers free, and then he wet those fingers with yet more lube, smearing it messily over his shaft before slapping his greasy-furred paw against the fox's hip. "Now, that's better, isn't it?" he rumbled, allowing himself one slow lick over the pulse point in the fox's throat.

Kim didn't respond, but neither did Morgan need him to. The wolf started to nudge the fox's hips downward, but the fox needed no such coaxing nor guidance, instead lowering himself even more quickly than Morgan was expecting. That sudden warmth made the wolf's ears lie back, and he gasped out Kim's name as the fox smoothly lifted right back up, claws digging into the wolf's shoulders. Without wasting any time, Kim began to ride him, either the lube or enthusiasm or a mixture of both seeming to allow him to get through any discomfort.

Morgan leaned back a ways, both paws now resting atop the mattress, supporting his weight. The wolf just sat still, watching with ardent splendor as Kim slowly but smoothly rose up and sank back down, over and over, his rhythm both blissful and hypnotic. There was something about the fox--it wasn't his technique, and it wasn't his scent or his body but it was still something about him that made the wolf dizzy, like he was having buttons pressed that he didn't even know he had.

That, along with the remaining tension he had from not having gotten off decently in over a week, made him lose his drive to stay passive. He leaned back up and forward, and wrapped his arms around Kim's torso. Already, the wolf's knot was growing, swelling, begging to be locked into the fox's snug rear. For the time being, though, Morgan didn't thrust or buck, but rather, he just helped the fox straddle him, providing balance and leverage and lift so that he could bounce up and down harder and faster. Each time he came down, it made the base of the wolf's shaft flare out even more.

One paw, he figured, was sufficient to steady the fox's movements, then, and so he used the other to grip the vulpine's own member. Kim's tilted-back form suddenly canted forward, and he let out a yip and started to cling even harder to Morgan; also, it had the desired double-effect of making the fox whine with delight and also of making him squirm around the hips. "Oh, that's nice," Morgan said, using his thumb to smear Kim's musky drizzle around.

Kim couldn't keep still; his body kept jerking in all different directions, and so in order to keep up with that, Morgan had to hold the fox by one shoulder and also begin to thrust upwards, ensuring that the vulpine didn't accidentally slip off at a critical moment. It was more than just instinct that made him need to tie with the fox, and after a few attempts to force his knot in under that hiked-up tail, he finally felt Kim's weight give and collapse downward.

Morgan's eyes were open, but he wasn't seeing much. He shook and twitched and rasped. His climax hit strong, and it was slow to fade, lingering in such a way that it made even his legs tingle. The world seemed to spin, but he kept his paw moving, squeezing and groping at Kim's warm, twitching member, and then he slumped backward. Landing on his back, he kept pumping his not-too-tight fist, and just kept going, steady and even, until he felt telltale lashes of warmth and stickiness splash his fur.

Letting out a deep groan of contentment, Kim let himself fall forward, and Morgan was there to catch him. He hugged the fox down against him, feeling a surprising amount of warmth through that bushy pelt. Kim tucked his head down, too, resting it on the wolf's shoulder, and the wolf obliged him with some petting.

They lay together in silence for a while, only the sounds of breathing and heartbeats making their way to Morgan's ears. In a sense, he was exhausted, and even knowing that his vigor would probably return soon, he was happy to just relax with the fox like this. It had been a long time since he'd last gotten to hold Kim like he was, since he'd gotten into a nice, intimate tie.

Since he didn't bother looking at the clock beforehand, he didn't know how much time passed between when his knot finally went down and he got back up. For a while, he thought that Kim was asleep (or maybe they'd both fallen asleep), but when the wolf went to sit up, the fox accommodated without needing to be roused. They sat up in bed next to each other, and Morgan kissed the fox on the cheek. "Thanks," he said. "That was very lovely."

"Yeah," Kim agreed. He sniffed at the air, then looked around the room. "You don't mind if I use your shower, do you?"

Morgan shook his head. "No, of course not." He patted Kim on the hip as the fox got up out of bed, trotting toward the shower. Then, the wolf lay down, resting his head on the pillow, relaxing and waiting. After a minute or so, he heard the sound of water rushing through the pipes on the other side of the wall, and he closed his eyes, letting that sound lull him.

The wolf didn't remember nodding off, but he felt himself jolting dimly awake as his mattress shifted. Kim had rejoined him, the arctic fox now clean and a little damp, the smell of the wolf's own fragrant shampoo clinging to him. "Hey, hon," the fox murmured, curling up with his back to the wolf's front.

"Hey," Morgan whispered back, putting an arm around the fox. He pressed his nose into the side of the fox's neck, closed his eyes, and hummed to himself, focusing on nothing in particular.

When he opened his eyes again, daylight was pouring in through his bedroom window. Kim was still tucked cozily in his arms, and he smiled to himself before he realized, to his chagrin, that he had to go to work. The wolf bolted upright and looked at his clock; luckily, he still had plenty of time to get ready, but sitting up like he had had woken the fox, too.

"Huh?" Kim muttered, seeming tired and startled at the same time. He looked side to side several times, and then started to calm down, as if just then remember where he was. "Oh. Hey, hon. G'morning."

Morgan rubbed over one of Kim's ears. "Good morning," he said. "Guess you slept okay."

"Of course," the fox replied, turning to give the wolf a lazy hug. "What's next, then? Breakfast? Or should I see how you're holding up?" He reached under the sheets and pawed at the wolf's unresponsive sheath.

"What's next is I have to get to work," Morgan said. He slipped out of the covers, walked over to his closet, and started to pick out clothes. "You can stay here, if you want, and I'll see you when I get back," he said, and then he turned around. "Unless you need to start heading back sooner than that. I don't know what sort of time frame you're working with. I'm guessing you'll need to reschedule that dinner?"

Kim's face fell. He opened his mouth, but the only sound that came out was a weak, mewling squeak. Morgan straightened out and looked back at him. Swallowing a lump in his throat, the fox tried again to speak. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

His voice was so quiet and defeated that Morgan almost didn't make out the words. "The dinner?" Morgan said, trying to reconfirm that he had his facts straight. "You said that you'd skipped out on the rehearsal dinner for your wedding."

"Wedding?" Kim's voice was almost a shrill bark. "You think I'm still getting married?"

Morgan almost fell over as he stumbled back a step. "What?" he asked defensively. "Last night, you said--"

"And then I slept with you! Don't you get it?" The fox sounded hurt--no, heartbroken was more like it. Morgan didn't understand what had happened, what he could have misinterpreted.

"Kim, just because you sleep with someone, it doesn't mean that your whole life changes."

Immediately, Morgan regretted his words. Kim looked like the wolf had just slapped him in the face. "So that's it, then?" he asked, teeth showing as he spoke. "Last night meant nothing to you? None of what we've done together--"

"Whoa, hey, slow down!" Morgan said with his words coming out as harsher snap than he'd intended. "I never said that. And you know that's not true."

"But I love you!" Kim pleaded. "You know that I love you."

Morgan's eyes alighted on his clock again; he really needed to get going if he was going to finish showering up to get to work on time. "But you also told me that you still planned on getting married," he said, voice softening, finally. "I thought you just wanted to be with me one last time, while you still could, like you said."

Kim put his paws on his head and choked out a few weepy sobs. "So you don't want me?" he asked. His tail had gone still; his ears had drooped back.

"Want you how, though, Kim?" Morgan asked, walking back up to the bed. He wanted to reach out and put a steadying paw on the fox's shoulders, but he didn't dare touch him. "I care about you--I care about you a great deal, and I want you to be happy."

"So then how come you haven't done anything about it?" the fox demanded. His voice cracked and tears started streaming from his eyes.

Morgan growled out in frustration. "Do what, Kim?" he asked. "Tell you, 'No, Kim, don't get married, come live with me, instead'?"

Kim bolted to his feet and grabbed Morgan by the shoulders. "Yes!" he cried. "Yes, that's exactly what I want! Can't you see that?"

"Kim," Morgan replied, nearly on the verge of tears, now, himself, "I can't make those sorts of decisions for you. I can't tell you how to live your life."

"But couldn't you have at least asked?" The sheer lack of anger or contempt in the fox's voice rang through clearer than anything. Morgan knew, then, that the answer to that question was a painfully obvious 'yes,' and he felt himself overwhelmed with shame for never having let himself consider it.

That was really it, then--what it really came down to. If Kim had asked him, last night, if he could stay instead of going to get married, would Morgan have said yes? Very probably, he admitted. But that would probably have just been the afterglow addling his thoughts... right? "I'm sorry," Morgan said quietly. He felt like a jerk for even trying to offer an excuse at this point. "I mean, if I'd realized..."

Kim shook his head a little. "If you didn't realize, then I guess you really don't know me that well at all." He planted a kiss on Morgan's cheek, then, but it was quick and emotionless, and the fox immediately went about gathering his discarded clothes from the night before.

Watching the fox picked up his things was enough to make Morgan walk out of the bedroom. "Look," he called back into the room without turning back around. "I need to take a shower and get dressed so I can go to work. Will you at least wait here until I get out so we can talk some more?"

The wolf heard what sounded like "Yeah, whatever," in response, but rather than make a spectacle of it, he just went to the bathroom and took his shower.

Despite everything, he wasn't all that surprised when he got out of the shower and found himself all alone in his apartment.

*

Morgan was in tears, now. Right here, in this same bedroom, he'd been foolish enough to let that fox go, to let him walk out the door even after the fox had left him multiple openings to just admit his feelings--feelings that Kim just needed to hear, once and for all, were mutual.

But Morgan hadn't said anything. To this day, he still didn't know why. Years earlier, he'd followed a little fox--a fox he didn't even know--out of a crowded restaurant just because of some hunch and had stolen a kiss from him just because he thought he had nothing to lose by trying. Then, after all that, when he had someone that he knew really, truly cared for him, he'd done nothing, and had let the moment slip through his fingers.

And so now, the wolf wept, remembering that empty apartment in the wake of Kim's departure, and the way he'd felt knowing that not only had he missed an opportunity to admit that he loved the fox, but also that he had let down the fox that loved him. He closed his eyes, and he tried and failed to hold back his heavy sobbing, which got louder and louder. He set down the picture of Kim and Mabel, and he once again picked up the picture of Kim and himself in that restaurant in Oakley, together but not, before the wolf had met his sweet little angel in the rain.

The photograph slipped out from between Morgan's fingers, and the wolf slumped forward, elbows on his knees, face in his paws, and he cried with the burned-out shoebox full of wrecked pictures beside him.

Soft footsteps came sounding from down in the hallway. They approached slowly, and then quickened after stopping for just a moment outside the bedroom door. The flooring creaked, and without looking up, Morgan could still feel himself being crouched over.

"Honey? What's wrong?"

Morgan lifted his head up and looked back at Kim, soft tones of worry showing on the arctic fox's face. The wolf sniffled, choked down some more tears, and tried to force his feelings back down so that he could speak calmly. "Sorry," he said, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

The fox placed a paw on Morgan's shoulder. "Have you been able to find anything?" he asked.

"No," the wolf said, shaking his head. "No, not really."

"What's all this?" Kim asked, leaning over and peering into the shoebox on the floor. He reached in and pulled out one of the pictures.

Morgan shook his head. "Just... just some pictures," he said, the sobbing having left his voice, but tears still welling up in his eyes.

"Honey," Kim asked, touching the wolf on the cheek. "Hon, what's wrong?"

The wolf wanted to cry even more, all of a sudden. "It's stupid, I know," he said, trying to brush it off. "I mean, we just lost our home, and I here I am, crying over some old pictures."

Kim set the picture in his hand back into the box and then stroked the wolf's cheek again. "It's okay," he said. "I understand."

Morgan showed Kim the picture of the restaurant. "Do you remember where this is?"

The fox leaned in and looked at the picture. "Wow, how long ago was this taken?" he asked, taking the picture from Morgan's paws.

"That's from the day we met. Do you remember that restaurant, right there?"

Kim squinted and furrowed his brow, then shook his head. "No, I don't," he said, handing the picture back.

"See?" Morgan said, motioning to the ratty shoebox. "It's stupid. It's just... it's all just pictures of things I can barely even remember. I don't even know why I'm this upset."

Kim reached down onto the floor and picked up another photograph. "Hey, I remember this," the arctic fox said. He turned the picture over and showed it to Morgan: it was the picture of the two of them on their ski trip to Cobblewood Ridge.

"Yeah," Morgan said, nodding. "Yeah, I remember that, too."

"That trip was the first time I told you I loved you," Kim pointed out. "So you remember the important things, at least."

The wolf actually laughed, but the sound was distorted by a fresh sob that cut into it. "Yeah," he said, tears coming harder now, a sad, warped smile on his face. "I'm sorry it took me so long to say it back."

"I knew in my heart that you'd come after me," the fox said, kissing Morgan on the cheek. "And if you hadn't, I would've just had to track you down again and poke at you some more."

Morgan kissed Kim right back, a quick peck on the lips, and then looked around the room. God, the place was a wreck. "Think it was worth it?" he said, surveying the damage.

The fox stood back up and walked around the room a little. "Well, I'll miss the bed," he said, kicking at one of the legs. "But we'll find someplace else to live. We've been through worse."

"Yeah," Morgan said, looking up at the fox. "Yeah, I think we have."

Kim touched one of Morgan's ears as he walked past. "Oh, so I got us a room at the hotel down the street from the station," he said. "I figure we can take a little longer here to see what's worth keeping and then head on over?"

With the faint beginnings of a smile, Morgan nodded again. "Yeah," he replied. "We can do that."

Returning the wolf's little smile, Kim walked out and padded back down the hallway again. Morgan stayed crouched on the floor for a little while, and looked back down at the pictures he'd taken out. He put them back in order, nice and neat, and put them back into the shoebox. Then, he closed the shoebox, slid it under the bed, and went back to the closet, checking to see which of his clothes might be worth keeping.