FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Silence, Bartholomew had never really appreciated it until it was gone. Now, the absence of sound had become a sound of its own, thunderous and yet wondrous in equal measure. The guns had stopped, and well they should it was almost the twenty-fourth of December after all. Soon it would be Christmas day, and all this nightmare would be over. Ha! Someday he would make it back to Blighty, he would go back to the recruiting office and find that damned bear that fed him that bullshit and... who was he kidding, after four months at the front he had no fight left in him. The fox was drained, mentally, physically and utterly.

Lieutenant Bartholomew P White, British Expeditionary Forces, 1st Corp. under the command of Field Marshal Haig. Although More directly, under the command of Captain Rowan Laurie, a rather dour badger. A member of the old guard, The Old contemptibles, as the Kaiser called them. He'd fought in the Boer war and before, a career soldier with a raft of great stories. The man had been shot three times in the battle of Rooiwai and still held his ground, and his command together. That was British grit, British steel, British pure bloody-mindedness. The entire hun could charge the Captain and they would break, like waves over his huge beard.

Things were different in this war, some bloody nutter shoots an Arch Duke and all hell breaks loose. Bart had signed up the next day, along with many of his friends from university. He wrote to most of them still, the ones who were still alive. When he'd written out his Christmas cards he'd sighed over just how short his mailing list was getting. The fox leaned against the wall of his trench and sighed, closing his eyes.

Even in his sleep, he could usually hear them, the guns. Huge cannons firing huge shells, at the Germans, just a few hundred meters away. They'd went crazy last month, 'one last big push and we'll be in Berlin in time for the new year!" Captain Laurie had said, in his speech, right before they went over the top at Ypres.

What a battle that had been, so many men, so many bullets and so much blood. Bart had survived, even made it to the German trenches. What a shock that had been, how he'd managed to do it, with the machine guns blaring, the barbed wire, grenades and rifles. The fox was born lucky, that had been his nickname at school. Lucky, he won every single coin toss when he captained the school cricket team.

He was certainly luckier than the poor Kraut he landed next to. A true Englishman should arrive as a considerate guest, with an appropriate gift. Bart had brought a bullet and he gave it to his host without hesitation. Clearly, the man had not been raised with good manners, because he failed to say thank you. That was the joke he'd told the men afterwards, it had gotten a laugh. He hadn't laughed at the time, he'd lost his lunch as soon as he had a moment, and the adrenalin wore off. Some nights he could see the look on the German's face, a look of pure surprise and disbelief. It was almost like the man had believed he could never be shot.

A month of fighting and what was the result? The Germans attacked, they counter-attacked, then the Germans counter-counter-attacked so not to be beaten they had countered again and again and again. Hundreds of thousands of men dead and the result a no score draw, at best. Half his men dead or injured, the luckiest buggers sent home to Blighty, or as much of them as they could find anyway.

"Package for you, Sir!" A cheery voice woke him from his momentary thoughts. It was Private Alfred Jones, sixteen years old, eager and stupid. Bart had taken him under his wing as his batman. The little rat boy, born to a working-class family and with hardly a penny to his name. He'd signed up to fight the Boche and after a few weeks of training, he had been sent to the front. The little guy hadn't seen battle yet and if Bart had his way he wouldn't see it at all.

"Cheers, Al," the fox replied giving the young man a wink as he took the package from his young ward. It was heavy and it clinked with a sound that was almost unmistakeable. "It's from my parents, a little Christmas gift." The fox moved down the trench and gestured for the young soldier to follow him.

His quarters weren't lavish, just a small dugout with a single cot. Still, it kept him apart from the rank and file, can't have the officers fraternising with the men, sadly. He grabbed a couple of tin cups and waved for the young boy to sit down.

"It's too early to open Christmas gifts, Sir," Young Al piped up and Bart couldn't help but chuckle.

"We're in Europe, most places here open their gifts on Christmas eve and it's twenty-hundred hours," he winked and cut the string binding the brown paper. "Close enough as far as I'm concerned." His eyes shone as he pulled out a bottle with a familiar label and golden liquid inside. "Can't believe this made it through to me, I'd have thought someone would have nicked it."

"Whiskey, Sir?" The young Tommy asked his eyes wide with awe.

"Whiskey, boy? This isn't whiskey, this is MacPhail's malt whiskey, single malt, aged in oak casks for twenty years." While he spoke he pulled a cork from the bottle and took a deep breath. The sharp scent of the liquid clearing away the scent of the battlefield. For a moment he wasn't sitting in some mud hut, he was back home in front of the fire. A huge meal had been made by his mother and eaten by him and his family. Now, he was sitting with his father before the fire, sipping on whiskey and talking about the latest reforms the government was proposing, along with the absurdity of these suffragette women. "This is ambrosia, the food of the gods."

Al was smart enough to keep his mouth shut while his superior was clearly off on one. His eyes went wide though as he saw the fox splash a generous measure into two regiment mugs. The fox gave him a wink and held out a mug, "I believe that any young gentleman able to fight for his country, deserves a decent tipple for Christmas. Just don't go getting used to it."

"No, Sir. Thank you, Sir!" Albert replied with a snappy salute, then a snapping of the proffered mug out of Bart's hand. He took a huge sip and Bart laughed as his eyes went wide and he could see the young man trying not to cough.

"Easy boy, this is fine whiskey, not cheap shandy. One sips it, slowly," Bart chuckled and put his mug to his lips and let a few drops into his mouth. Closing his eyes he could taste the fire, the smoky peat of the highlands. More than that he could smell the fire at home, the scent of the leather of the armchairs in his parent's house. "Just a little sip, don't swallow it, let it spread on the tongue and breath slowly. Roll it around, taste the peatiness, the smoke and beneath it the notes of honey and citrus."

"Citrus, Sir?" Albert asked as he took another much slower sip.

"Oranges," muttered Bart with mild exasperation. Reaching out, he pulled something else out of the packet, a cigar, he smelled it. Sadly there was no brandy in the package too, although something almost as good. His mother's Christmas cake, wrapped in baker's paper. That he knew he would save until Christmas, he might be breaking with tradition a little, but he wasn't an animal. He did, however, bite the end off one of the cigars and light it, he put the others with the Christmas cake to save for tomorrow.

Albert pulled out a small dogeared packet of fags and lit one himself. The two sat there in silence for a few moments, puffing on the cigars and sipping on the golden liquid. Eventually, Bart gave them both a second measure and then put the bottle away with everything else. He found himself looking at young Albert, not a bad figure of a boy. Someday he would be a handsome man, it was definitely a pity that he was away from home and not with some sweetheart back home. Still, the war couldn't last forever, maybe it wasn't over by Christmas, but by next Christmas, Al would be home.

The light outside had gone and the stars would be out, the chill of the night air would be biting the toes of the honest Tommys, and the dishonest ones too. Then suddenly he heard voices raised in song, German voices, the tune was unmistakable and the lyrics were just understandable,

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,

Alles schläft; einsam wacht

Nur das traute hochheilige Paar.

Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,

Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!

Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!

"Bloody Germans, stealing our carols," grumbled the slightly drunk rat.

"Actually, the song was written by an Austrian, Joseph Mohr, in German, Albert. The music is also by an Austrian composer," Bart corrected the young man. "It was even translated into English by an American, we don't have any claim to it at all."

"How'd you know that, Sir?" The rat asked wide-eyed in pure awe at the fox's knowledge.

"They do teach us some things at Cambridge you know, lad?" It didn't hurt to remind the rank and file that he was a gentleman, from time to time.

The two sat listening to the song for a while, "It's kinda pretty, isn't it, Sir?"

"Given the boom of guns we have been listening to, it is bleeding magical," he replied with a smile and took another sip of his whiskey.

The song ended and for a moment there was silence. Then it began;

Silent night, holy night,

All is calm, all is bright

Round yon virgin mother and child.

Holy infant, so tender and mild,

Sleep in heavenly peace,

Sleep in heavenly peace.

By the end of the first line Albert had joined in, by the end of the second Bart added his voice to the choir of thousands. Surrounded by mud, hundreds of miles from their home, stuck mere meters away from each other, men, who one day earlier had been trying to kill each other, sang to each other instead. The silence of the guns vanishing in the raising of voices. Bart closed his eyes as he sang and eventually fell asleep to the sound of music for the first time in months.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

He awoke to the sound of voices, raised voices. His paw shot out of his bunk and grabbed his service revolver. Only for his ears to finally register, there was no gunfire with those shouts, there was laughter. The fox dressed quickly, taking some time to make sure he was in full uniform before he stepped out into the trenches.

Young Albert was rushing past the door and as he watched the young fool started to scamper up the ladder to the surface. "Private! Stop! Get down, now! Before some Gerry puts a bullet through that thick skull of yours!"

"But, Sir... there's a truce!" The young male protested with a wail in his voice. "We've been up talking to them, Sir. The ones that speak English anyway. One of them said he'd trade a packet of fags for my chocolate ration!"

This young man rattled off his words excitedly and with enough of an urgent dance, on the ladder, that Bart knew he was worried some other soldier might beat him to the German and the fags. "How long has this been going on?"

"It started last night, after that bit sing-song, Sir," replied Al hurriedly, still twitching on the ladder desperate to go. "Even the Captain has been up, he spoke to the head kraut and they agreed. No fighting over Christmas. The German's don't get a chocolate ration, Sir, so most of the lads is trading stuff." The last part of the private's reply was another big hint that he wanted to get to the German with the chocolate first.

"Well, ok I guess," the fox replied a little mystified. Al didn't pause, he was off like a shot, right out into no-man's land, with his chocolate. Bart took a few breaths and placed his hands on the ladder, he was no coward, he went up them, but only when commanded to. However, he was no fool either, he didn't stick his head up where it could get shot without an order to do so. His heart picked up its pace as he climbed. It could be wrong, it might be a trap. Yet Albert had been very sure... there was only one way to find out.

So, his head peeked over the edge of the trench, slowly and cautiously and there it was, no-man's land. An expanse of mud pitted with muddy craters from shells, bullet casings, and possibly a missing limb or two. Truces weren't unknown, between battles, to recover and bury the dead. Maybe they were at war, it didn't mean they couldn't be decent, civilized, beings. This was different though, he could see soldiers all over the field talking, in small groups.

He spotted Captain Laurie standing talking and laughing with a couple of German officers, from the insignia he recognised the lead as a captain. Cautiously, with his service revolver clenched tightly in paw he climbed out fully. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Albert talking and laughing with a Jerry soldier. The little rat being dwarfed by a bear, Bart's gut tightened as he saw the bear reach out a paw and ruffle the rodent's hair.

Taking a careful and slow breath the fox walked out into no-man's land and made his way slowly over to his commanding officer. The badger turned and gave him a nod as he approached, "Ah, Lieutenant White, glad to see you join in the festivities at last. May I introduce Hauptmann Wagner and Oberleutnant Bauer, our counterparts on the German side."

"Yes, Sir. Hauptmann, Oberleuntnant, " Bart gave a short bow to the two men but kept it as formal as he could using rank only and not name. Somehow it seemed wrong to be nice to men who, a few days earlier, had been ordering their men to shoot at him. " May I have a word, Sir?"

"Of course, if you will excuse us, gentlemen. Although, I will definitely join you for a brandy later Wagner," Captain Laurie shook both men's hands and gave them a smile. As the two German officers walked away he turned to his second, "Well, spit it out, man!"

"You realise what we are doing? Fraternising with the..."

"Yes!" The badger cut in quickly. "Do not take me for a dotard or a fool. I know very well what I am doing, organising some Christmas cheer for my men, and for no bloody bullets to be exchanged. A truce, forty-eight hours"

"A truce is fine but all this...." the fox waved at the men in as nonchalant a manner as he could. "How is it going to be in forty- nine hours when I have to tell Albert to shoot at the guy who gave him a cheap packet of fags?"

"Oh, dear boy! When you have been in the soldier game as long as I have you learned many lessons. One of the most important lessons I have learned is; take any chance you can to let your men relax. "Captain Laurie gave him a sad smile and kicked at some old bullet casings. "For months they have been shooting at each other and in a few days, they will go back to it. When it comes down to a choice of dying or shooting a man who gave him a packet of fags, Albert will make the right choice.

However, right now there is a small chance for us to come together, in celebration of our Lord. A couple of days of peace, it is an opportunity, and one I will not pass up because you are too stupid to see it. Now, I suggest you either get back in the trench and clean this muck off your boots, or you try and speak to some of our compatriots. Oh, my word, what are they doing?" The last statement was aimed at a small group of soldiers, who were kicking a small billycan back and forth. "That is not how a gentleman plays football. Richard!"

Richard Atler, a corporal and the Captain's batman came scampering. White gave him a few orders, while Bart took his leave. He walked to a small tree, or rather what was left of one, the top had been blown clear off by a cannon shell, now it was just a stump. However, it was the only thing still standing in no-man's land, that didn't have razor wire nailed to it. So the fox leaned on it and watched the men carefully.

The corporal returned with a round object, a bundle of cloth, wrapped up to form a rough ball. Captain Laurie organised a couple of goals and separated the men into two teams, mixed of course. "Football?" The voice surprised the fox, who spun with the revolver in paw to find a German soldier on the other side of the tree, his uniform identified him as a Sanitätssoldat, a medic. "The ground is far too rough to play this game, unt there is barbed wire also."

Bart regarding the German for a few seconds, it was a german shepherd canine. He was fit and his uniform was almost as clean as his own. His eyes were regarding the revolver in his paw, even if he had said nothing about it. The kraut was actually quite handsome, his brown and gold fur brought out his green eyes. If they had met anywhere else Bart would have been the first to admit there was something about him that stood out, something ineffable.

However, he did put his revolver away, "sorry, you surprised me. As for the game, this is nothing. You should have seen the pitch in my village. There was a hill in the middle of it, the goalies couldn't see the other side of the pitch it was so big. The only way you knew your side had scored was when everyone cheered. Didn't mean we didn't have some great games, it takes more than uneven ground to stop an Englishman." Bart had not meant to reply so fully, or with a barb to the end. However, his Captain was arranging the game, he felt he shouldn't let any german question his superior's actions.

"Ah, so you can play?" The german asked tilting his head a little and smiling. There was nothing malicious in his smile and yet, there was doubt in that voice or maybe it was a challenge.

"Of course, I can play. I used to be pretty good on the school team," snorted the fox irritably.

"You might have the advantage, we do not build our football pitches on hills, we flatten the ground, so the ball does not roll on its own," there was more than a little bit of a teasing tone from the dog, even in his thick accent it could be picked up. The dog was smiling at him more and more as he got more annoyed.

"It's not my fault you baby yourselves, the sun doesn't set on the British Empire because we are not averse to taking on a challenge," Bart snorted adding a little haughtiness that only an Englishman can quite manage.

"Then shall we have a wager? My coffee ration, against your chocolate. I play for one side, you, the other. Winning side takes the bet?" In the back of his mind, Bart knew he was being taunted into a wager, the smiling confident male had gotten his gander up. The dog was holding out a paw towards him.

Carefully putting out his fag, the fox stored it in his pocket. Then he grabbed the shepherd's paw tightly, only for the german to squeeze back just as tightly. "You, my friend, are on!"

"Ah, so we are friends now, Tommy?" The question caught Bart by surprise, as did the smile. There was something about it, something familiar and he was beginning to remember when he had seen that sort of look before. Those private clubs, for gentlemen such as himself, to conduct affairs that society would not understand.

"No, Fritz we are not. My name is Bartholomew. Remember it, for when you have to explain to your actual friends where your coffee went," the fox put a cocky swagger into his walk, not an easy prospect when walking through the heavy mud of Belgium.

"My name is Kuno Winter," replied the canine with a smile again. He didn't react to Bart's bravado. Though, as he trotted over to the makeshift football pitch Bart looked back and the canine's eyes were fixed on him.

"Ah! You have decided to join in, jolly good show that man!" Bellowed an eager badger, as Captain Laurie held aloft a ball made of what appeared to be a bedsheet tied into a bundle with socks. "You can be on the fur side, so get your shirt off."

The fox paused, he wasn't shy of his body, however, Belgium in December was not exactly weather that inspires a desire to go topless. He could see Kuno standing nearby a smile on his face as he joined the shirts side. There was a coffee ration and chocolate on the line. Besides, now was not the time to prove a coward, in front of his men, his enemy and Kuno. So his shirt was unfastened and placed on the edge of the trench, then he went a step further, pulling off his thermal vest as well, letting his rust orange fur free into the air, exposing his white belly.

He walked back over to the Captain and, gave the men a cocky smile. "Ok, shall we toss a coin for kickoff?"

Nodding the Captain pulled a shilling out of his pocket, "do you want to call it, White?"

Bowing towards his opposition just a little he replied gallantly, "oh no, please in the spirit of cooperation and friendship I will let my opposition call it." It wouldn't matter, his streak was unmatched, Kuno could call whatever he wanted and he was sure to lose.

"Tails," called the canine and the badger flipped the coin.

"Heads, looks like furs are kicking off." the badger called and Bart smiled inside his head he thought 'Lucky White strikes again'. While he swaggered in the tiny victory the Captain gathered the men from both teams around. "Alright, I want a good clean match, no biting, kicking or punching. Offside rule is in effect, and I want to see everyman giving it all for his team..."

All the while the Captain was talking Kuno was shouting out in German and it took Bart a few seconds to realise he was translating the Captain's words into German, presumably many of his men didn't speak English. Suddenly Bart realised, he spoke zero German and half his team might not have a clue what he was saying. If he wanted that coffee he was going to have to damn well earn it, not only earn the coffee put that damned dog in his place.

He took the kick-off himself, and his knee felt the weight of the ball more than his foot did. It was clear it was more than a single sheet, in fact, it might be a full heavy blanket. The damn thing barely rolled to his player, who kicked it and whimpered softly. Only for Kuno to zip past him, taking the ball with a series of gentler taps to dribble it effectively. Bart felt a deep sigh escape from his lips, it had been a while since he last ate humble pie, he hoped the taste had improved.

The next hour was painful, not just because kicking the ball was like kicking a lump of stone wrapped in a tablecloth. His side was losing three to one and every time he even touched the ball Kuno seemed to be right there, one time muscling him off the ball and sending him sprawling into the mud. His fur was caked in mud and he was sweating and trembling. When suddenly he got lucky and Kuno slipped on uneven the ground.

Like a shot he was on the dog, he had the ball and nobody between him and the goal. He had just a few heartbeats to pick his spot and punt the ball with all his might. However, it sailed clear under the diving goalie, for a goal. His team cheered and the fox got back a little swagger and sprinted upfield. Only the swagger didn't last long, he felt something clutch at his calf, and before he knew what was happening he was falling. The fox landed with a splat on the muddy ground, and then instinctively clutched at his leg. The mud covering his pants was already showing streams of red, as blood ran.

His black fingers grasped at a twisted bit of metal, a half-yard of barbed wire that had lain hidden in the mud until he ran into it. The pain was considerable and he bit his lip to keep from screaming as he pulled the metal out of his leg. The blood flow increasing rapidly as the barbs were pulled out of the holes they had gouged in his flesh.

Brown paws seemed to come out of nowhere and push his own paws out of the way. "Is not bad. May need stitches, must stop the bleeding and disinfect the wound. Please come," It was Kuno, who didn't wait for a reply he grabbed the fox's arm and hauled him up, putting his shoulder under Bart's for support. Bart found he was able to put most of his weight down, yet he accepted the help anyway.

"Bloody barbed wire," snorted the fox angrily, as behind them the football match got back underway; Captain Laurie was not going to let a little blood stop the football, after all, it wasn't like anyone died.

"Yes indeed, who would have thought a muddy battlefield could be so dangerous," observed the dog with a wry smile on his face.

"Point taken," Bart replied with a slight smile. The dog led him down into the German trenches, they were oddly similar to the ones he had spent months living in. He hopped into a small dugout that had medical supplies stacked in the corner and a small cot bed along the wall.

"Are you able to remove your pants, or shall I cut them open?" The shepherd asked bluntly as the muddy fox sat down on his bunk.

Clothing wasn't exactly in good supply and losing one of his few pairs of winter pants would be a bitter blow. "I can take them off." The fox replied and proceeded to unbuckle and pull down his pants, biting his lip to stop from crying out at the pain. As he did so, the dog lit a small paraffin stove and placed a kettle on it. "Good idea, I would kill for a good cup of char."

Shaking his head with a smirk the dog replied, "No, is to clean your wound, unless you want me to use cold water?"

Bart paused, the mud in his fur was wet and he could feel the chill of it now he had stopped running. He was torn between the desire to not get any colder and the chance of a cup of tea. However, the choice clearly belonged to his host so he leant back on the cot bed. While the kettle was warming up the dog got down on his knees and began to examine what he could through the caked blood and mud. "The blood has stopped, probably no need for stitches, just clean and dress."

The fox definitely felt a little strange as he looked at the dog, on his knees and between the fox's legs. "That's good then, no cutting off the leg."

"Not unless I do something very wrong while cleaning the wound," Kuno replied with a chuckle and just for a moment, Bart thought the dog's eyes were straying elsewhere. Bart was suddenly very aware he had no top on and was sitting in just his underwear, in a German trench, with a man he had barely met and who was 'the enemy'.

"Have... have you been a soldier long?" He stammered trying to change the conversation. It was a dumb question, or maybe a smart one as reminding them both of just who they were was probably a good idea. Of course, who he was could also be part of the problem.

"Six months," It was a short reply, which was hardly unexpected. The dog stood up and turned his back to check on the kettle as well as put some cold water into a bowl.

There was a moment of awkward silence and Bart looked around trying to think of anything that could break the awkwardness, or at least the silence, "your English is very good. Where did you learn?"

"My grandmother in my father's family is English. I used to visit my uncle and his wife in Dorset every summer," the dog replied, while lifting the steaming kettle and pouring the hot water into the basin. "I used to enjoy spending time with my English cousins. I... have not heard from any of them since the war started."

"You don't think... some of them might have joined up?" it was a horrible prospect family fighting against family. However, a lot of young Englishmen had signed up, like he had, when the war broke out.

"No, thankfully, the eldest is just fourteen," answered the dog calmly as he turned back around, bowl of steaming water in one paw and a cloth in the other. "Time to clean up this mess and see what we are really dealing with."

Bart couldn't think of anything to say, he watched as Kuno dipped the cloth into the water and then gave a sharp gasp as the hot towel touched his leg.

"Does it hurt?" The canine asked as he continued to wash mud and blood out of the fox's fur.

"Stings a bit, honestly I just wasn't expecting the water to be so hot," the fox replied, biting his lip again to keep from making any more sounds. He didn't want the German to think he was some sort of nancy boy after all.

"Ah," somehow the reply with no words managed to accurately convey the message of 'then don't be a crybaby'. After a few minutes of work, the medic looked up, "no stitches for certain, most just simple punctures. I will put some gauze and bandage and you will heal in a day or two."

"Oh good, cause I have such important plans for two days time," Bart meant it as a joke, but the moment the words were out of his mouth he regretted it. His only possible plans for two days time would potentially involve shooting at Kuno and his comrades.

Once again there was an awkward moment of silence, while Kuno continued to bandage his leg. The dog returned to the kettle and said nothing while he turned off the stove and rattled some pots. A few seconds later he turned around with a tin mug in each paw, "tea, as requested."

"Ah! You, Sir, are a gentleman and a scholar," enthused the fox as he took the tin cup from him. There was no milk in the tea, no lemon either. However, Bart knew that he could not expect miracles from heathens. That, and all he had in his bunk was powdered milk, which in his opinion was only useful if it snowed and you were out of grit. Plus in his time in the army, he had learned to drink tea as it came, without milk, without lemon, with mud and one time served in a kidney bowl. You never know where your next brew is coming from, just hold your nose and don't complain.

The tea wasn't bad, it at least had a good strong flavour and was definitely tea, "I guess I owe you some chocolate," Bart said, more to cut through the silence that to offer his chocolate ration. Although he was an honest man and he'd made a bet and lost, he was not the sort to go back on it.

"The game was not over, your side may..."

"No, our bet was about your team against my team and you won, three to two. I am a gentleman, Sir, I pay my debts." the fox took a sip of his tea and made sure to hold his pinky claw out, just the emphasise the point. "Although I don't have it on me, in fact, I don't have a lot on me at all, just underwear and mud."

"If it helps, you also have a bandage on your calf now," chuckled the canine with a nod to the white fabric.

"It certainly doesn't hurt," as he spoke suddenly his stomach decided to join in the conversation gurgling loudly. "Oh dear, I do excuse me. I skipped breakfast and I suspect it is approaching lunchtime."

"Lunchtime? It is already two after twelve, or fourteen hundred hours," laughed the canine with a gesture at a small clock. The face confirmed it was twenty past two.

"Good lord, how did it get so late without me noticing?" The fox exclaimed sitting bolt upright in the cot and putting his foot on the floor, wincing a little as the muscle pulled on the torn skin.

"I would like to think it was the charming company that has distracted you," Kuno replied with a broad smile and a wink at the fox.

Bart's jaw dropped, "well the company has been... very good. Far better than I expected..."

"From a kraut?" Kuno asked with a smile, as the fox stared in shock he saw a flicker of doubt across the canine's face. The vulpine guessed that it was just a badly judged joke, he certainly hoped so. Which was a little odd to him, after all, why should it matter if he offended this man?

"From a battlefield," the fox said quietly with a soft smile of his own.

"Well I...," the shepherd never got to finish as the door to the dugout opened and a German soldier stuck his head inside. It was a tiger and his eyes looked at the nearly naked Tommy sitting on the bed and over to Kuno with narrowed accusatory look.

"Was geht hier vor sich?" The tiger barked at the german shepherd.

Kuno frowned and looked at Bart, gesturing to his leg he replied, "Ach, nur ein dämlicher Tommysoldat, der sich beim Fußball spielen im Stacheldraht verfangen hat."

The feline rolled his eyes and the hard look on his face melted a little, "Was für ein Idiot kommt auf die Idee Fußball auf dem Schlachtfeld zu spiel'n?"

The dog gave a chuckle and shrugged his shoulders, "Der Hauptmann der Engländer hat ein Spiel angeleiert, da hab' ich mich entschlossen mitzuspielen."

Bart said nothing, feeling very definitely out of place and his fingers itching to feel the reassurance of his service revolver in his paw. While, the tiger pointed outside and said, "Gut, aber unser Hauptmann sagt, alle Gäste müss'n bis Sonnenuntergang unser'n Schützengraben verlassen haben."

"Danke für die Information. Ich werde seine Wunde versorgen und Ihn dann wieder zurück zu seinen Leuten schicken," Kuno replied with a nod and gesture at the door.

Turning to leave the tiger pointed at the fox once more, "Sieh' zu, dass er vorher 'n paar Hosen anzieht, bevor er wieder geht."

With a chuckle that Bart wasn't entirely sure was not at his expense the canine replied, "Ach, die die Vorstellung einen Tommy nur in Unterwäsche und Stiefeln wieder in dieses Niemandsland zu entlassen, klingt für mich schon ziemlich verlockend."

There was no mistaking the deep belly laugh that came from the tiger, "Oh ja, guter Einfall!" He announced as the door closed behind him.

Kuno turned to the fox and could see the questions in Bart's eyes, "he asked who you were, so I told him. You have to be out of the trench by sundown."

"And the laugh?" The fox asked cautiously.

"I told him I'd send you out dressed like this," the german shepherd replied with a slight smirk.

"Ah, speaking of, I should probably return now. I need something to eat and to get my clothes back, not to mention my revolver," he had little hope they were still where he left them. Though there was a good chance Albert would have picked them up, he was a good batman.

His pants were returned to him, a bloody and muddy damp affair. Holding them up the fox seriously weighed the prospect of walking back in just his underwear and boots. However, the humiliation beat discomfort in his mind and he twisted his face as he pulled on the mucky clothes.

After he pulled them on, his boots were returned to his feet and he stood up wincing a little at the pain. Bart stuck out his paw with a smile, "it has been a pleasure meeting you."

A warm paw engulfed is, this time there was no attempt to intimidate each other. The canine just smiled warmly, "it has been enjoyable for me also." The dog muttered softly and he leaned forward just a little.

Spending so long in the trenches, often crammed in tight with other men Bart had developed a highly sensitive sense of personal space. It didn't just require a person to be close, there needed to be some sense of intent, and right then he felt the canine stepping right into the area of space with intent. What was weird was, he didn't mind in fact it felt nice to let someone get just a little close, "I still owe you my chocolate ration, we could meet tomorrow, at that tree and I could pay you and give my thanks. In fact, I have some fruitcake from my mother, if you would like a share of some proper Christmas food."

The smile on Kuno's face grew and he squeezed Bart's paw. "I would enjoy that." The words were warm, the hot airbrushing slightly over Bart's cheeks, he hadn't noticed how close they had gotten, or how their handshake had been going on for almost a minute.

"Well, say ten-hundred hours, at the tree?" The fox asked, still shaking paw as he felt each moment pass and each moment they seemed to draw a little closer, as if drawn together by some outside force.

"Yes, I look forward to seeing you again," the dog confirmed and then the sound of boots stomping past outside the dugout. Their eyes broke contact and their paws parted ways, both reluctant to move.

"Aside from the barbed wire, this has been a delightful experience," Bart announced as he reached across Kuno to open the door. For a moment they drew close again and then he saw a flash of gold as the dog moved, his head darting forward. Warmth pressed to the vulpine's cold lips as a soft peck was placed on them. His paw continued to move pulling the door open as his brain was far too shocked to stop what he had been doing. "I... goodbye."

The Tommy could feel his heart racing as he darted out of the dugout and up the first ladder he could find. Even the freezing December chill couldn't keep his thoughts away from the warmth of that moment. As he trudged through the frozen, crater-filled mud-field back to his lines he wondered if he might have misread something. Some other cultures friends kissed, and it was just a peck after all. There was no reason to read any more into it than that, it was a friendly peck and nothing more.

However, there had been a feeling something between them. He had known that a few times before, wonderful times. Risky though, even before the war. To be found out, to be caught. He would disgrace his parents, his entire family and forever be marked as a criminal. This was worse too, not just another man a german. His mother would die of embarrassment and his father would claim he had never had a son.

Of course, those other times he had been right and he hadn't been caught. He was lucky after all and besides, it was just a chat and a peck. That was hardly a court-martial offence. Nobody had to know. He reached the tree stump, his arms hugging his chest to protect him from the cold and he looked back. To his surprise, in the dim light, he could just make out a head looking out over the german trenches.

Bart made it back to his dugout, but he was shivering from the cold. The rest of his clothes had not been where he left them. However, they were folded neatly on his bed, the fox turned of his small paraffin cooker and set some water off to boil. He stripped out of the wet pants and underwear. Pulling on some clean dry clothing with a sigh and feeling the warmth of the cooker start to heat up his tiny hole in the middle of the front.

A cup of tea was drunk and he felt warmth returning to his bones. He sat quietly and ate. At one point, Albert came by to check on him and to bum an extra fag. The boy's smoking habit would have been impressive if not for the sheer brazenness at which he extracted tobacco from his fellow soldiers. However, Bart could see it for what it was, almost all the men had a habit like it. Some drew in notebooks, others' wrote, some read, others tried to cook and make little meals to remind them of home. Everyone had their own little thing to try and keep the war out of their heads, if just for a moment.

The fox fell asleep wondering what the next day would bring. More silence, more peace. If there was anything he could look forward to it was another day where nobody was actively trying to kill him. Thoughts of home came to him in his dreams, of last Christmas Eve and staying up late talking to his father. They had drunk brandy and discussed what they were looking forward to doing the next day. Mostly they had been looking forward to eating his mother's cooking, the goose had been slow roasting all day, while the female fox had clucked around it in a way any mother hen would have been proud of.

Bart had his eye on boxing day, the day after Christmas he had plans to meet up with Kevin, his university friend. The two had wanted to spend some time together, to celebrate the season together. Kevin was married before the war started, a nice girl a niece to a friend of the family. Bart had been his best man, staring with jealous eyes at the ceremony. His time would have come too, if the war hadn't broken out. As proud Englishmen, he and Kevin had signed up. In his dream, he read through the last letter he had gotten from his friend, over a month ago. Polite and formal words, yet between the lines he could feel the warmth and care. He'd written back, of course, but that had been before the Battle of Ypres. Both their regiments had been involved.

He awoke with a snort, feeling his body trembling. His breath misted up as he panted softly, trembling paws reached out to light his stove. While he took a few moments to sit in his bunk and breathe deeply trying to force unpleasant thoughts out of his head. A knock on his door forced him to calm down. "Come." He called out as he pulled some pants on.

It was Albert, the young rat had a couple of billy cans in his paws, "happy Christmas, Sir! There is an increased ration for today, with some chicken, gravy and potatoes. They are cold, but you can heat em up, no problem. Bill already ate his, I'm saving it until at least lunchtime. That's when my Mam and Dad will be sitting down for lunch."

With a nod of thanks, Bart took the billy cans from him. They were surprisingly full. He wondered if the rat had done some extra cadging, or if army command really was trying to give their troops as happy a Christmas as they could. "This your first Christmas away from home, Albert?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm ok though, Sir." There was a definite defensive tone in the young male's voice.

"It is mine too," the fox said softly as he placed the food down next to his little stove. He picked something out of the parcel his mother had sent him. The second of the four fat cigars he had had. "Merry Christmas Al, something to savour after your Christmas Lunch."

The rat's eyes shone as he reached out to take the cigar, "wow, thank you, Sir! I've never had a real stogie, not the posh kind like this." The young man practically glowed.

"I have to pop out to no-man's land in a bit, Al. I lost a bet to one of those krauts while playing football," he muttered as he picked up a small package of foil wrapped chocolate.

"Ah yes, Sir. That's alright. A few of us lads are going over this afternoon, carolling you might say." Albert smiled as he talked, the cigar safely tucked away in his shirt pocket.

"I, am not feeling much like carolling myself. I'm just going to pay this chap and then have a quiet one to myself. Have my dinner and enjoy some more of that whiskey." The fox replied as he pulled his boots. "I think I'd like a bit of time by myself this year, just to think on things."

"Very good, Sir," Albert replied with a salute, the fox knew he wouldn't be back. He wasn't sure why he'd done that, Christmas day was not one he would normally look to spend alone.

A check of his watch told him he still had a few hours before he had arranged to hand over the chocolate to Kuno. So he visited the Captain and paid his respects, as well as taking a chance to speak to his men. Putting on a smiling face for them and sharing the warmest words he could. Everyone seemed to want to talk about the day before, the football match and how jolly decent those German chaps had been. All talk was of Christmas Eve and Christmas. Nobody wanted to mention the day after.

As it neared the arranged time he took a walk out into no-man's land. No-one batted an eyelid at him climbing the ladder. Soldiers had been doing it all morning, going out to trade their Christmas goods with the Germans. As he reached the top of the ladders he could already see a figure standing beside the tree. Bart waved as he stood up and Kuno moved to meet him halfway.

"Good morning, Merry Christmas," Bart said cheerily as they met up and shook hands once more. Their hands lingered for a moment or two before parting.

"Merry Christmas, it is good to see you again," Kuno replied with a smile.

"Your chocolate, well played sir," the fox announced, pulling the packet out of his pocket.

"Thank you... maybe you would like to share, in the spirit of Christmas?" the dog replied breaking the small bar of chocolate in half. It was then that Bart remembered he had offered the German some of his mother's fruitcake and utterly forgotten to bring some with him.

"Well, if you are going to share your chocolate, come with me," Bart was surprised by how quickly he came to the conclusion. Mostly, he was just determined not to be one-upped on gift giving. He had some wonderful golden liquid and fruit cake waiting in his dugout that would definitely leave the canine in no doubt as to who was the most generous of the two.

Kuno gave no argument, just a broad smile as he followed him. He led the german through the trenches, nodding to his men as they passed by. Then into his small dugout, "Please sit and make yo..." His words became muffled as a warm canine maw was pressed against his. Strong arms wrapped around him and for a moment he fought on instinct. Then, he just melted into the kiss, returning it, his lips parting and his tongue slipping out to meet Kuno's.

Strong paws roamed over his back, while their tongues danced together. His own paws pressed against a firm chest, squeezing softly. Then he felt the pressure releasing and Kuno broke the kiss, with a smile. For a moment, Bart just stood there stunned and there was only thing that went through his mind, "how did you know?"

Kuno smiled and sat down on the cot, lounging back comfortably, with his legs spread like he owned the place. "I have learned to spot others, but mostly because you... were aroused while I was on my knees before you."

Bart didn't reply, he just grabbed the bottle of whisky his parents had sent and poured two decent measures and handed Kuno one of them. Then plonked himself down on the bed next to him," I haven't... since I signed up. Not exactly a safe thing to do, especially during war. A quick court-martial and two years in prison, or a public flogging minimum. At least at home... well, I knew where and who was safe."

Listening carefully the dog nodded sympathetically, "is much the same for me. Not safe home, not safe here."

"Then why did you..."

"Because is war. Nothing is safe, nobody safe and if I am to risk my life, I would say a moment with someone as handsome as you is worth the risk. Because, there must be something better in life than, mud and guns." The dog's reply brought a warm embarrassed glow to Bart's cheeks. While the whisky brought a warm glow to his stomach.

"I've taken a risk or two," the fox replied softly, not sure why it was so easy to talk to the german. Maybe because he knew in one day Kuno would be gone and nothing he said or did could be brought before a court-martial. "My first time was with a fellow at university. It was in our second year, we were drinking brandy in my smoking room and the next thing I knew we were... drinking each other."

"Ah Ya! I didn't go to university, but there was this wood near my home. My mother always told me not to go there, that it was a den of perversion," the dog smiled bitterly and drained his tin mug. "So of course I had to see for myself, what was so evil in this place. A man, he looked just like any other man. He approached me as I walked on the path through the woods, and he just asked me... if I wanted to suck him." The dog paused and took another drink from his mug. "Then I did, and he did me. So I knew, I was a pervert too, and I returned many times."

Bart picked up the half empty bottle of whiskey and topped up both their mugs. The silent dugout echoed with the small clang of tin on tin as the fox bashed the mugs together, "to perverted encounters and the men who enjoy them with us." The fox toasted and Kuno laughed and raised his mug to join in the mocking toast.

As he lowered the mug from his lips, Bart pressed himself up closer to the canine, "so, what are two self-confessed perverts supposed to do on Christmas day?"

Kuno put his tin mug down carefully and then turned to face the fox, "I am sure we can find something to distract us." He took Bart's unresisting paw and pulled it down to place it over his crotch. Underneath the coarse fabric, Bart could feel an impressive hard length, its heat, a welcome contrast to the cool air.

With a flick of his wrist, the fox drained the last drops of the rather large measure he had poured himself. Then his swallowed and smiled, "fine scotch and fine cock, a very festive mix." There wasn't much else to say, the empty tin cup was placed down on the floor as he slipped off the cot bed. Kuno's legs were already spread wide and the fox knelt down between them.

His fingers trembled a little as they worked on the buttons of the dog's pants. Bart knew this was stupid, risky. If they were caught he would face a flogging, prison or worse, friendly fire was not unknown as a way to deal with someone of low morals. However, right in that moment, he didn't care, he had needs, Kuno had them too and if they could find a moment of pleasure together it was worth the risk. Plus, the men were drinking and celebrating, he'd told Albert he wanted to be alone. Chances were nobody would even think of him.

None of it mattered as the thick red meat slipped into his view. Spear-shaped, it was heavily musky, bathing wasn't an option on the front, a good wet scrub with a wet rag, when you were willing to live with freezing wet fur for an hour or so. However, the musk was nice, it smelled of a male and felt warm in his nose. A golden paw landed on his head, for a moment he thought Kuno was going to be forceful with his needs, instead, the canine just stroked his hair and caressed his cheeks.

Looking up he found too desperate and lustful green eyes looking down patiently. He winked and then turned his mind to the task, or more accurately the cock before him. He huffed on it, watching as tendrils of warm breath misted up and swirled around the hot meat. Then he kissed the tips, his ears picking up the sharp hiss from above him and the light clench of Kuno's paw on his scalp. While his lips and tongue bathed in the complex flavour of the canine's maleness.

It mixed with the aftertaste of the whiskey perfectly; earthy, potent, matured, with a bitter and yet tangy afterglow. It rolled perfectly on his tongue, as his tongue rolled perfectly over hot needy flesh. A warm jet of pre added a new and unique bouquet and flavour, sweeter and yet still tangy, with a hint of spice. He drove his muzzle down as far as he could, filling it with thick meat. Above him, he heard Kuno gasping in pleasure a second paw started to caress his hair.

He could see Kuno's knot forming right before his eyes, his lips kissing the forming mass with each bob of his head. His nose was drowning in the scent of the german shepherd, while his tongue delighted in the taste of his cock. Bart moaned softly as he felt the thickness slipping between his lips. The hot flesh so wonderful, that special firmness and yet softness that only seemed to belong to a cock. It slipped wonderfully into his mouth, again and again as he bobbed faster and faster, holding nothing back.

The paws on his head gripped tighter and he felt the dog thrusting up into his mother. Closing his eyes, Bart held still, letting Kuno fuck his face. With lustful moans and gasps, the dog claimed his mouth with growing power. The knot smacking on his lips heavily, as the spearlike tip pressed to the back of his throat. His own pants felt annoyingly tight and uncomfortable, as he soaked his underwear in pre. Bart's paws remained on Kuno's thighs, while he bathed in the experience of the dog. Scent, sounds, taste, feel and vision, all of it was dominated by Kuno and he drowned himself in the experience of another.

Kuno's grunts and moans echoed in his ears, he delighted in the throb of the burning hot cock against his tongue, and he knew the dog was nearing the point of no return. Bart did nothing to pull away or stop him, letting the German use his hungry and desperate muzzle. Until he felt a powerful warm jet hit the back of his throat. Kuno drove his cock deep into his muzzle one last time and held him there. While jet after jet of potent seed was emptied into his mouth. The fox swallowed on instinct and desire, loving the feeling as the warm fluids oozed down his throat and the warmth filling his stomach.

After a few minutes, a spent and softening cock was pulled from his dripping, moist lips. The dog wasted no time stuffing the meat back into his pants and buttoning up. A risk had already been taken and there was no point extending it. The paws that had ruffled his head tapped him on the shoulder, "stand." It wasn't a request, and Bart was too good a soldier to refuse an order in that tone.

Bart yelped a little, biting back his excitement as the german shepherd began fumbling with his flies. There was no hesitation, his drooling fox meat was pulled out into the cold air. Unlike him, Kuno didn't give it a kiss; the dog just devoured it whole. Bart had to bite his lip as waves of pleasure washed up through him. Kuno clearly had no intention of wasting any time, his lips were kissing the fox's crotch with each powerful bob.

With and barely contained moan of pleasure Bart found himself thrusting forward. His body knew what it wanted and his mind was far too lost to the pleasure to resist. There were no complaints from the canine, only soft moans and happy growls. Strong paws grabbed his buttocks and held him still, the dog grunting softly as he took control.

Kuno wasn't holding anything back, his muzzle sucked down firmly, his tongue writhing against Bart's maleness. The sensations travelling down his cock and out to the tips of his fingers and toes. It had been almost a year since his last encounter with another man, and a month since he had last touched himself. His balls were aching with the need to empty. While the dog seemed eager to drain them.

A muffled whimper escaped the fox's lips as he felt his orgasm take hold. Waves of pure bliss rocked through him, while his cock throbbed and his aching balls emptied. Kuno moaned happily, milking the foxhood dry, his head never stopping. A pressure, Bart had only been partially aware of, seemed to be released from inside him. He smiled a little dopily as he felt the canine's mouth swallowing around him.

This was the moment he loved most about sex, just after the intense pleasure of lust. When time seemed to slow down, the world felt warm and happy, his mind eased and he just basked in the memories of the pleasure, given and taken. He knew he had satisfied his lover and now that had been returned, all expectations melted away and he just sighed with pure contentment.

Sadly, it didn't last long, the warm mouth was pulled away from his softening cock, Kuno quickly pushed his maleness back inside his pants and fastened up his flies. Now if anyone walked in, he was just a Tommy sharing some whiskey and Christmas cake with a kraut. A strange image to be sure, but not one that would get him court-martialled. They didn't say anything about it, there wasn't anything they could say.

Bart picked up one of his remaining cigars, bit the end off and lit it. He took a long drag, letting the smooth, rich smoke, fill his lungs with warmth, before he let out a long slow breath. He offered the cigar to Kuno, who grinned and took it, taking his own deep drag and then handed it back. "You mentioned cake?" The dog asked, his eyes gleaming with a little mischief.

"I did, didn't I," agreed the fox as he took another puff. He picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured them both a generous measure. Then he reached for the cake his mother had sent. It was a small one, but a full round, an individual cake. Back home his family would be cutting into a new and fresh full sized cake. He cut the cake in half and offered the second half to Kuno, he wondered what his mother would say if she knew he shared her gifts with a german.

The cake was still moist, dense and heavy. With the sweetness of the fruit counterbalancing the rich spices, cloves and cinnamon heavy amongst them. His mother always overdid the cloves, although there was the taste of a strong and very nice brandy to make up for it. There was no cheap rubbish used in her Christmas baking and the cake would have been left to mature for a while, with extra brandy being added.

"It's good," observed the dog, his voice bringing the fox several hundred miles back to the front.

"My mother bakes it herself, she never lets our cook do it," the fox observed with a smile as he took another bite. "The entire Christmas meal, she lets the cook and the maid take the day off to be with their families. So she makes the entire meal herself." Bart's eyes fell on the cold billy cans filled with what the army classed as a Christmas feast. He lit his small stove and placed the two cans carefully over them. "If I was a better host I'd have given you dinner before dessert."

"I have no complaints of anything I have tasted so far," Kuno replied with a wink that made Bart squirm a little as he thought back to what they had done.

The food was heated and the two shared what there was. It was actually not bad, certainly, the meal was improved by the company. This was the first time Bart had been able to relax with anyone since he set foot on foreign soil. The rest of the time he was always in his own head, making sure his eyes never stared too long where they shouldn't, when he wasn't trying to lead men into or out of battle.

After food Bart poured out the last of the whiskey, he could definitely feel the alcohol in his system. It made the world all pleasantly fuzzy. The two talked a little more and laughed at some shared stories, close calls with the law. Tales of old lovers and how they had spent some of their youth. However, the conversation faded away as they drew closer and closer, this time there was no pulling away as their lips met.

Bart had always enjoyed kissing. It felt so personal, warm lips, breath and the taste of another male. Every excited sound of his lover slipping into his mouth. Their paws stroked each other's bodies. The canine's paws made no attempt to hide Kuno's thoughts, as they stroked down the fox's back and grasped his buttocks squeezing firmly.

Moaning and gasping desperately, Bart let the dog lay him down on the bed. The warmth of the canine above him was wonderful, the feeling of another on top of him, holding him, kissing him, wanting him and needing him. It was far more intoxicating than the large volume of whiskey they had drunk.

Hungry tongues danced and drank each other's taste and moans of pleasure. Their warm bodies writhing together and then as the kiss was broken Bart moaned desperately, "I need you." His eyes looked up at Kuno, the smouldering lustful look in the dog's eyes were a mirror for his own desires. He could see the need in those eyes, strong paws helped him roll over, and then unfastened the tail button on his pants. With barely enough wriggle room the fabric was pulled down roughly to exposed just enough of his ass.

Closing his eyes the fox found himself filling his muzzle with his blanket. He had nothing he could think that they could use to ease the canine's entrance and the last thing he wanted was some soldier blundering in to find out who was crying out. Kuno seemed to slow down, acting almost like there was no hurry and no risk. His paws played with the fox rump, pulling it apart and then letting the cheeks slip out of his paws and slap together.

Then he felt a clawed finger teasing his pucker. The fox whimpered softly, trying not to tense up. However, when he felt a warm puff of breath running up his taint the fox almost squealed. Bart's heart began to race, he'd been fucked more than a couple of times, fucked, fingered and one guy even had a leather toy that he used. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would experience what happened next.

Something warm and slick slid up his taint, for a moment Bart wondered where the canine had found something to lubricate his cock. However, as the tongue lapped over his puckered entrance there was no mistaking what was pressing against his pucker. Kuno grunted and moaned as he licked quickly, his tongue circling the pucker waiting until the fox relaxed to the sensation. Then he struck, his tongue forcing its way inside the fox.

Bart gasped, and moaned, writhing under the canine as sensations he never dreamed of filled his ass. Kuno had apparently not eaten enough as his tongue was hungrily eating the fox's ass, twisting and swirling as it buried deeper. All the while the canine was moaning and groaning in pleasure at the taste and feel of the tight fox rump. Those warm lips Bart had enjoyed kissing were pressed to his pucker as the dog worked his tongue deeper.

The fox closed his eyes and whimpered into the blanket, glad he had stuffed it into his mouth, if he hadn't he would have cried out many times already. The tongue wormed its way around inside him, feeling warm and wonderful, yet so different to a cock, able to move on its own, smoother than a finger, no claws. It stroked against something inside him and he felt a bolt of electricity run up his spine. He screamed out into the blanket, his own cock rock hard and throbbing under him.

All too soon the warm tongue was pulled from inside him. Kuno's paw landing on his back, holding him down while the desperate canine lined up his cock. For a moment Bart felt a pressure on his pucker and then he bit down hard on the pillow. Kuno drove his hips hard, the spearlike cock slipping into the moist relaxed hole easily, but not painlessly. The german hilted inside him with one rough and powerful thrust.

The weight of a large body hit him in the back as Kuno lay over him. Kuno reached under Bart with one paw and grasping his leaking cock. Hot panting breaths flowed over his neck fur as the canine above him began to trust.Thick dog meat inside him slipped in and out easily, Bart thanked god for the canine tendency to produce copious amounts of precum. While the pain of the rough entry faded and gave way to pure bestial need.

Kuno held nothing back, thrusting with desperate animal need, his furry nuts smacking off the fox's spread ass with each rough thrust. Bart whimpered and squirmed under him, the dual pleasures of a cock reaming his tight depths and a paw jerking his desperately aching meat, proved almost too much. He bit his lip hard trying to use the pain to hold back his rapidly approaching orgasm. The fox knew he shouldn't each moment that past was a moment when they could be discovered, it was a risk. Yet he needed this, he had to prolong the feeling.

The dog's huge knot slapped hard against his pucker, the canine growling and getting desperate and rough with his thrusting. In Bart's mind, he knew tying was the stupidest thing either of them could do. While his body was aching with desire, he hadn't felt a knot inside him in years. Bart pushed back against the hard lump desperately, pushing himself back like a wanton slut, desperate to be filled.

With each passing moment, the knot bashed against his pucker. The tight muscle stretching further and further. Kuno moaned loudly and lewdly into his ear, pausing after each thrust to grind his hips with a deep feral growl, trying to force his knot into the willing and yet tight bitch he was breeding. He thrust three or four more times, each thrust harder than the last, and more grinding. The rhythm and feel of the desperate breeding were too much for the fox and his orgasm was balanced on a razor's edge.

Giving a restrained cry of triumph, Kuno slammed home one more time, grinding his hips, the knot mashed hard against the abused fox hole, and then slipping inside. It swelled in a few heartbeats and Kuno lost all control, thrusting into the tied bitch desperately as he flooded Bart's rear with copious volumes of canine spunk.

The feeling of that knot locking inside him was all that Bart needed to send him spiralling into the abyss of his orgasm. A tidal wave of pleasure washed over him, his entire body convulsed as he sprayed out blast after blast of fox seed. The vigorous breeding only serving to prolong his moments of pleasure, his cock soaking his bedding as the canine paw jerked it rapidly, milking him dry.

Panting heavily the two lay together, the weight and warmth of the dog above him was a welcome feeling. The warmth inside him was just as welcome, although he knew it was a risk. "That was really good, but so very stupid." He panted happily, his paws reaching behind him to hug the dog as best he could.

"Worth the risk," muttered the dog with a slight Yawn. Kuno placed his head down next to Bart's and the fox smiled. He put the worries about being walked in on out of his mind and just basked in the moment. The warmth of his lover on top of him, the feel of his heart drumming softly against the fox's back and the warm gentle touches as his paws wandered over his body. His only regret was that they had left their clothes on, he would have liked to feel Kuno's hot body directly against his own.

Minutes ticked by, into hours. Kuno's knot was removed from his ass, but the two stayed in each other's arms, just listening to each other's hearts. While, in the trenches outside, the sounds of carols being sung echoed as the sun began to set. Bart said nothing he just laid his head on Kuno's broad chest and sighed with contentment. In a world of bombs, guns and death, it was a moment of peaceful bliss, fit for the saviour of all to be born.

However, time marched on and after hours of warmth Kuno gave a groan, "sun is almost set, I must leave."

The whimper in Bart's throat surprised him so much he wasn't able to suppress it, "I understand." He mumbled and then grabbed his diary, he scribbled something down and tore a page out. "My parent's address. After the war,no matter how it ends, I would appreciate hearing from you."

Kuno took the note and then leaned down and took the diary from him, in the box for twenty fifty December he wrote down an address in Munich. "I would like to hear from you also. Thank you for your hospitality. It was... a real pleasure."

Bart took the diary back from him and placed it down carefully on his cot. The two stood awkwardly for a moment, neither one really wanting to be the first to make a movement. Kuno was the first, opening the makeshift door of the small dugout and heading out, the light was already getting dim. They had no time left and the two exchanged a friendly handshake before Kuno climbed up the ladder.

With the warmth of the handshake already fading, the fox climbed up the ladder and peeked out over no-man's land. The gloaming light was already fading, but he could just make out the shape of the german soldier, returning to his comrades. The night was silent and he was glad of that.

"Hello, Sir!" A very cheerful and heavily slurred voice below him called up to him. It was young Albert, clearly very drunk and looking up at him.

"Hello, Albert," the fox replied climbing down.

"The lads are going to have a bit of a sing-song, I wondered if you wanted to join us?" The mouse was visibly swaying as he spoke.

Stepping away from the ladder he put his arm around the young man's shoulders. "Sounds good to me."

"'s good, Sir. You shouldn't be alone on Christmas night," Al mumbled and Bart smiled and gratefully accepted the young boy's company.

From in front of him he could hear a thousand drunk voices;

Silent night, holy night

And from across the darkness the sound of answering voices singing;

Alles schläft; einsam wacht

If you enjoyed this then I think you will enjoy my latest anthologyhttps://www.sofurry.com/view/1265638

If you enjoyed this story please consider buying my first book details can be found in my https://www.sofurry.com/view/945905 journal It's a sweet romance story with some steamy chapters and some art by Edesk

If you want to support this hard working writer bear you can do so at my Patreon account here https://www.patreon.com/sisco

Or you can send my a tip by following the link below