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"Why do you suppose no one's written porn about us?"

The young meerkat nearly dropped the bar of weights that he was trying to bench press. He was saved from an untimely crushing of his chest by the intervention of a large, black, silver-striped forepaw that gripped the center of the bar swiftly and efficiently. Recalling his attention, he pushed upward against the weight and racked the bar properly, having a brief desire to do the same to the black tiger who spotted for him. He looked up past the red shorts (which covered all yet concealed nothing), the white A-frame athletic shirt (ditto), and into the dark eyes which, contrary to expectation, were not sparkling with repressed laughter.

Catching his breath in response to both the exercise and the sensation that he'd narrowly escaped fracturing his upper ribs, the meerkat asked, "Soka, is there a particular reason why you had to bring up that topic when I'm on the last rep of my third set?"

The big tiger shrugged easily. "Sorry, Miles. Thought you were done."

Sitting up on the bench, Miles took a moment to suss whether or not anyone around them had heard that outrageous question. Most other furs were camped out on the Nautilus and other such "automatic" devices; free weights required spotters, not to mention someone to add equal weight plates to the other side while you loaded up your own bar; so many furs at the gym came here on their own, and it wasn't always easy to find someone to help with one's workout. Soka actually preferred the free weights, partly because they were nearly always available. Miles had come to prefer them because it's what Soka had taught him, and partly because being able to spot for his great cat gave him a perfect excuse to watch those big honkin' muscles at work. There were other equally good opportunities, of course, but this happened in public, and although he wasn't sure if it should be, it was kind of a turn-on.

The meerkat pulled his soaked t-shirt away from himself and let it fall back down again. "Well, I think I'm done now. Got all your work in?"

"You know me; I could go all night."

In view of the feline's earlier comment, the meerkat would certainly have agreed with that sentiment in quite a different context. Soka was, at this moment at least, talking about how he could quite literally spend hours at the gym, given the chance. When they had first met, Miles wondered how anyone so beautifully buffed could do anything other than work out constantly. He was particularly glad to discover that there had been time for conversation, dinners, a few movies, video game challenges, and even some couch-cuddling as they'd gotten to know one another. Finally, what Miles experienced as a joyous tidal wave of love and appreciation, from each to each, turned into the ongoing relationship that was now well into its third year of happiness, growth, and mutual support. To stretch the analogy to its breaking point, they spotted each other in everything.

"Shower and home?"

"Maybe some Chinese on the way?"

"Works for me." The meerkat grinned. "After all that workout tonight, I'm not sure I'm up to cooking."

The big tiger provided an affectionate "Dutch rub" of his lover's headfur before turning back to the weights. "You're doin' great. Let's tidy up, eh?"

Miles joined Soka in removing and replacing the plates to their proper places in the racks. He smiled to himself, amused at the thought that his only experience with a gym, prior to Soka, had been the clichéd terrors of high school. There were a few games where being lithe and quick had some advantage over brute force, including the more popular ones like lacrosse and volleyball. At the high school level, however, such opportunities were rare, and species like his own were all too often made the objects of bullies as sure as if they'd been born with targets tattooed on their fur. Had they met in high school, the meerkat sometimes thought, they would probably have been on opposite teams, in more ways than one.

They padded toward the showers together, not paw-in-paw, although no one was likely to raise a fuss even if they engaged in such displays here. They were "out" enough, but they had agreed to some simple discretion in the gym at least. They stripped at their lockers, putting the sweaty clothes into a bag to take home (Miles yet again planning to take his sniffs before putting them into the washer), and moving into the communal showers. The club provided some decent fur cleaner without charge, and both meerkat and tiger wished simply to rinse clean enough to put their street clothes back on. They would both linger a bit, since the water pressure and temperature were better here than at home, and as long as they were paying the dues, they decided to get their money's worth.

Standing under the hot needle spray, Miles luxuriated in the post-workout high that Soka had spoken of so often in their early courtship. This soon after finishing, it was largely psychological -- that feeling of having set a goal and of having achieved it. Since he'd started his routine a few months ago, the meerkat also had the satisfaction of seeing that he'd advanced up the ladder of his own self-promised progress. Before much longer, the endorphin rush would kick in, probably on the bike ride back home. His muscles would be sore, but as he noted, now was when he'd actually had some musculature that was worthy of getting sore.

He glanced over at the tiger next to him, the sheen of water making his silver-striped black fur glisten and wink under the fluorescents. This, the young meerkat had to admit, was joyfully erotic, made more so by memories of other workouts in the home shower. He had enough control that he wouldn't pop a chubby in the club shower, but the reminiscences brought the tiger's earlier comment back to mind. Despite being the only ones in the shower at the moment, this wasn't the time or place to start the conversation again. That didn't mean that he couldn't wonder about it for a bit.

The showers at a gym, spa, or similar club were common fodder for homo-fappia fiction the world over. Combinations included pairs, trios, quartets, and outright orgies. The steam room, likewise, was quite the venue for such activities, although perhaps not at this particular facility. Oh, something probably happened, or at least could happen, in just about any location where two or more randy males let themselves think with the smaller of their two heads. Miles had resisted the gym for a long time, partly for that reason. He did consider for a moment: Was he more afraid that it would happen, or that it wouldn't? It made for great fun in his imagination, but he wasn't entirely sure that he was the sort of male who could enjoy playing with strangers. Quite apart from his respect for Soka's wishes and feelings, it always seemed like it would be more fun in the imagining than in the partaking. Perhaps, he thought, in the parlance of the modern sex chats, he was just too "vanilla" for it.

Following the great feline's cue, Miles shut off his shower and followed along to the tables of towels and the wall air-dryers. He was always ready and willing to help the big cat get his back fur toweled off, and as always, Soka insisted on taking care of the meerkat first. Giving in with a grin, Miles felt like a much-loved pet pup being pampered after a run in the rain. This, to him, was worth all of the would-be gym orgies combined. Despite his small, lithe appearance, he was well able to stand up to Soka's rough-and-tumble sort of affections. He had been afraid of them at first; it was exaggeration to say that the tiger was big enough to eat him up in one bite (it would have taken at least two... maybe three...), but the feline's personality and attitude had always been more forceful than the meerkat had been used to. Once they both discovered that Miles wouldn't break like a China doll, they also discovered that a bit of mildly uncivilized roughhousing was not only fun but good exercise.

Like a well-timed dance, Soka made a final pass with his towel, brushing the meerkat's bum and running the length of his tail, then turned just as Miles turned, ready with a towel of his own. The broad expanse of the tiger's shoulders, the rippling of muscles from neck to tail-base, all was familiar and much-loved territory to the meerkat, and he set to helping get the fur dry with an enthusiasm born of the deepest love and the merest, happiest hint of lust. Again, perhaps it was the venue, or the result of their workout, or maybe even the hints of those naughty stories he'd read while growing up (c'mon, we all did, right?)... whatever the reason, he felt wonderful tending to his beloved tiger, and that was something he knew would never change. He also allowed himself the wholly appropriate swipe of his lover's hard glutes; that fur had gotten wet too, and how could Miles allow himself to be derelict in his duties? And was that a grunt of a chuckle he'd heard from the great cat?

Dried, dressed, back outside the gym, the meerkat worked the lock that helped chain his bike to the rack and decided to restart the earlier conversation. "Soka, why did you ask me that?"

"Ask you what?"

"About why no one has ever written porn about us."

"Oh, that." The tiger coiled chain and lock into the saddlebag of his Titan Punisher all-terrain mountain bike. "It just seems like the thing that a lot of males get for themselves, maybe a commission, or they get one free just because they're popfurs."

Miles considered. His own chain stashed, he pulled the Haanjo Diamondback out of the rack and readied himself to ride. "Maybe we're just not popular enough to be noticed."

"Oh, we've been noticed."

The tiger saddled up and started off, leaving the meerkat to follow behind, confused. "Soka, wait. What are you talking about?"

The summer evening was comfortably warm, plenty of light, largely empty streets on the way back to their home. The tiger glanced at his lover, pedaling at his side. "We've had various pictures of ourselves posted on the sites. A few from the gym, remember? And I still want to know how you managed to get that picture of us sleeping together; you caught me in the middle of a huge snore." He grinned. "Just glad you can sleep through all that."

"Never been a problem." The meerkat felt the blush rising in his cheeks. Once in a great while, he would tease Soka about being his "big kitty" who would sometimes roar in his sleep. He really didn't mind it, and he wasn't just "tolerating" the sound. After all, one "tolerates" a toothache, and one loves one's lover. So okay, it had taken a little getting used to, and he'd joke about the sound being like having a fighter jet doing loops outside their window... but it didn't take long for it to be reassuring. He felt safe, protected. Soka was no low-browed bumpkin, looking for fights, but a fur would be a fool to harm one hair on the meerkat's body. No matter how deeply the tiger slept, the slightest hint of disturbance from Miles would waken the great cat at once.

"Those pictures," the meerkat pursued. "You're telling me they're popular?"

"Lot of hits, at least. We seem to get good comments from a lot of furs. One called us his 'golden couple'."

The tiger wheeled a long, graceful curve into the parking lot of the strip center, his lover following as if choreographed. They pulled up to their usual Chinese takeaway, the pangolin owner hailing them from behind the counter with a grin, waving his forepaw with two fingers up, then four, a questioning look in his eye. "Workout!" Soka called, smiling, and the pangolin grinned wider, held up four fingers in confirmation and hollered out some instructions to the cooks.

Miles chuckled softly. "Well, we're certainly known here. I guess I just wanted to know--"

A pair of young female felines passed by, giggling a little, casting coquettish glances behind them as they padded on to their destination. The meerkat smiled wryly as he caught a glimpse of Soka from the corner of his eye. The tiger had "casually" managed to provide the gawkers with a look at the outline of rippling muscles underneath his polo-style shirt. Miles didn't mind it. The big cat had worked long and hard at developing his body, and he had every right to be proud of it. That occasional "accidental" flex for the benefit of curious or envious furs was something that went with the territory; it was, perhaps, like a rock star giving autographs, a form of courtesy given in appreciation of being appreciated. The meerkat had the advantage of appreciating the tiger daily, in many ways, and (he realized) he was appreciated no less.

There was enough paw-traffic at the strip center to halt the conversation once more. Miles let the evening settle softly on his shoulders, Soka offering a few details from his workday, the meerkat returning the favor. Tomorrow was Friday, and there was more than one possible plan for the weekend for them to discuss. A good long bike ride up the Seven Lakes Road was a good option, this time of year; they could have a splash in one of the lakes, find a section of the hot springs to relax in, or perhaps both, if they wanted to make a good day of it. This was also the weekend that their friends Gaylon and Eduardo had planned their "all-gay, multi-ethnic, poly-species, share your basket and your food too picnic". Despite the gently lewd title, it was always a civilized affair; there was unquestionably more than a little wandering off into the woods, but Miles remembered his earlier assessment of horny guys exercising the smaller of their heads. Nothing was ever forced, and the more common expressions of physicality were picnic games, swimming, and cuddles in the sun to dry out wet fur -- nothing, in other words, that would scandalize any but the most puritanical of prudes. Even Gaylon's straight-but-not-narrow male friends enjoyed the in-public activities, including cuddles and hugs.

Miles let his mind wonder about that for a moment. Another environment where "anything could happen" with quietly consenting males, and quite honestly, he didn't have all that much interest in the idea. Oh, the fantasies, certainly, but real life? He tried to imagine the various aspects of such an encounter, the things that would make it exciting. Being outdoors can be attractive; that sense of being natural in the midst of nature was nice to think about. There was also the idea of swift, sudden contact, the short-and-sharp mutuality of sexual play with a new partner. What occurred then to the meerkat was the opposite of that, idea of being able to take time, to enjoy one another thoroughly, and to enjoy a prolonged cuddle in a warmly breezy, nature-scented afterglow. That was something that these hot-and-heavy fantasy encounters didn't have; once the corks pop and the wine flows, there's not much party left.

He stood with the bikes while Soka settled the tab and got the food together. Both bikes had specially-designed fold-out metal baskets; Miles prepared his, getting the ultrathin thermal liner in place and readying the bungee cord to help keep it all in place. The tiger filled up the space quickly and efficiently, putting a small package of non-drip items (steamed rice, crispy noodles, sealed packets of soy sauce, duck sauce, and spicy mustard) into his own pack. He saddled up and, after leaning over to kiss his lover atop his head, he set off, Miles close behind.

The meerkat smiled softly, feeling the faintest bit of blush rising on his cheeks. It wasn't embarrassment. He had no problem with anyone expressing affection in public; better that than something violent taking place. It was just the sweetness of it. Miles was a sucker for romance, and Soka was in no way stinting in expressing his love. Perhaps that's what made his question so odd. After all, porn was rarely (if ever) romantic. Would it be more damaging to one's reputation to be so blatantly sexual, or to be so blatantly unromantic? It formed another question in his mind that would have to wait until they got home and, knowing the tiger's appetite, would have to wait until the first wave of devouring had passed.

It was only another minute or two before they were home. During the trip, it occurred to Miles, in a slightly detached sort of way, that everything was close-by when you rode a bicycle. Walking wasn't drudgery at all, when one is reasonably fit, and even a good run could be pleasant. Cycling, however, provided moments of work with moments of rest, a firm and rhythmic pushing in between periods of smooth gliding that felt like a release of all worry and care. You didn't notice the trip so much as the happy exchange of effort and ecstasy.

He wondered, as he dismounted, if Soka had noticed that he'd started blushing again.

Inside their apartment, the couple readied plates for food, cups for drinks, and themselves for dining, all in less than a minute. For some species, prompt and regular feeding times are important, and maintaining some few civilized customs is best done by having necessary accoutrements put where they can be got at swiftly. Soka had yet to open up a container of food and simply up-end it down his gullet, but there could always be that first time, and Miles felt it important to have at least a little bit of food leftover for himself.

Setting aside clichés about how much one tiger could eat at mealtime, the big feline had managed to slow down after the first helping and took his time readying a second. The meerkat smiled as Soka unabashedly licked his fingers, noisily and with happy abandon. He was never shy about his enjoyments, in any arena, and Miles found himself squirming a little at the memories of that tongue taking pleasures other than sweet and sour sauce. (Although... he allowed himself to think.) He cleared his throat, hoping it would help clear his mind. "So, about that question...?"

The tiger chuckled. "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

"I just wonder why you brought it up."

"A curious thought that crossed my mind. Not a very long trip," he quipped. Miles raised a mildly disapproving eyebrow, and the tiger sobered a little. "Maybe it's just that every pop-fur and his brother -- if they're into that kind of thing -- has had porn written about them. I can't think of many who haven't; a lot of 'em write it themselves, or they commission it, or have really graphic pictures made, whether from real-life or drawn from imagination. I don't think I could write a letter, much less a story."

Unable to express a comment with his maw full, the meerkat fetched a playful yet firm slap to the feline's arm. He did manage a bit of a smile afterward. "I don't know that I'd do much better, I admit. And how would such stories be told anyway? Do we get quizzed by the writer regarding what sort of... activities we enjoy, or how we react to each other when those things happen?"

"I don't know if writers always ask for specifics before they start writing."

"What if they write about us doing something we wouldn't do?"

"I guess we ask them to take it down from the site or something." Soka looked at Miles with an unreadable expression. "What are you afraid they'd write about?"

The meerkat felt a furious blush rising on his cheeks. "Well, if they wrote us doing something... you know, like... stuff we wouldn't do."

Smiling, the tiger stopped eating long enough to prop an elbow on the table and put his chin into his forepaw. "Like what, for example?"

"Well... you know, stuff?"

"Care to be more specific?"

Miles tried very hard not to sputter. He and Soka talked about anything and everything, but at the moment, he just couldn't get a single idea out of his muzzle. It wasn't about kink-shaming; more like the idea of feeling shame because, suddenly, everyone would know about it. Eww, they're into THAT? That's just tacky... not to mention messy...

"BDSM," he finally managed.

"That depends on your definition. If last week was anything to go by, with Larabee on the couch over there, you're into BDSM hot'n'heavy."

"What?"

"Big Dogs Snuggle Me."

The meerkat had to snort a laugh. Larabee was indeed a big dog, a Newfoundland in fact, and it was difficult to imagine a more perfect body pillow for watching a movie -- which was precisely what was going on when the snuggle in question happened. Soka enjoyed being thoroughly feline that evening, curled up with Angelino, the Newfie's lithe ocelot lover. As fodder for fap-fic goes, it might have been the prelude to mate-swapping, or at least mate-sharing, or four-way-fun, or whatever it might be called. IRL, as the abbreviation had it, it was the cuddling companionship of good friends, rather like what Miles had been thinking about Gaylon and Eduardo's picnic. It was friendly, companionable, sensual without being sexual. In the paws of a porn-writer, however...

"Got anything else?" Soka wanted to know, grinning.

"Watersports."

"We shouldn't go play in the lake?"

"Scat."

"Are you telling me to shoo? You know that's what that means, to a feline?"

"What about that thing with tapioca pudding?"

"The birthday tapioca pudding, or the Christmas tapioca pudding?"

"The Canada Day tapioca pudding."

"Only if they include the part with the donuts, eh? It's a matter of national pride."

Miles gave up, laughing, his head falling forward far enough for his head to get another "Dutch rub" from his lover. There was, in fact, one incident concerning donuts, but tapioca pudding was in no way involved, unless one counted a certain liberty of imagination regarding the result. When he finally controlled himself enough to get back to the conversation, he saw that Soka had taken up his eating again. Through a mawful of particularly good spring roll, he asked, "Miles, what really bothers you about this?"

"Maybe that porn feels so clinical. Insert tab A into slot B, repeat as necessary. Just add grunts, groans, and screaming obscene words, and you're done."

The tiger paused in his eating -- not a miracle, but it did indicate the tiger's level of concern. "I don't treat you like that."

"No, you don't, love." The meerkat smiled softly. "But when I think of written 'porn', that's what comes to mind. It's all hot'n'heavy, mindless... it's not romantic."

"And you are."

"Try to be." He reached across to take Soka's large forepaw into his own. "How'm I doing?"

"Terrific, as always." The tiger kissed the meerkat's forepaw chivalrously. "Maybe I'm not being romantic enough."

"After that kiss? I'd say you're doing fine, love!" Miles leaned over and gave his lover a proper kiss that diverted both of them from the food for a good half-minute -- not a record, but quite respectable. Sitting back again, the meerkat felt the smile on his muzzle more than ever. "Is it important to you, to have someone write porn about us?"

"I guess it's sort of a prestige thing. Seems like a lot of the big pop-furs get stories told about them, and the most popular stories are porn stories. They get the most hits."

"Probably right onto the screen," Miles smirked. He indicated the last tempura shrimp, and Soka waved a benevolent forepaw. The shrimp was caught nimbly in chopsticks, and the meerkat resisted the temptation to shove the entire thing into his maw at once. It was less a question of capacity and more a question of appreciation.

"What if it were romantic?"

"Romantic porn?" He considered, chewing. "Does that exist?"

"It's probably not called porn, I would guess." The great feline had slowed from devouring to nibbling. He never let himself overeat to the point of immobility. He claimed to, because it usually lured the meerkat away from his computer and over to the couch, to watch a movie together. After a good meal, both males could host quite the belly-rumbling contest, but it was usually Miles who had his ear against Soka's firm tummy to hear the best burbles. "Would you rather have a romantic story told about us? Something wispy and light and airy?"

The last of the shrimp was dispatched as the smaller male considered. Were those the choices? Mindless sex or mindless conversation? There had to be something else, something that showed something real between them, yet something that someone would want to read about them, something that showed what their relationship was really about...

It was then that the tiger roared, or more accurately, he made more room in his belly by blistering the air with a prolonged symphony of a belch that would have rattled windows, had they been closed. Instead, with the windows being open, Miles was able to hear faint applause and cries of "Author! Author!" being cheered by various neighbors who had taken the game to its logical conclusion. After all, if care and expertise are brought to any performance, then it should be appreciated.

"That's what our story is," the meerkat affirmed softly.

"A belch?"

Miles chuckled. "That's part of it. Not wispy and light, but certainly air." He grinned. "It's like your snoring, Soka. Maybe I had to get used to it, but I did, because I love you. Not because you snore, but because I love you, and part of you being you is snoring. And belching and tummy gurgles."

"You left something out."

"Okay, so there are times when I'm better off upwind, but even so..."

The tiger laughed. "So it's a question of which bodily functions we want to share with everyone?"

"Maybe. Or maybe..." Under the table, the agile meerkat extended one leg such that his hindpaw made a tender inspection of the tiger's leg. "Maybe it's just a case of a time and place for everything. After all, if we gave away all our secrets in one story, how could there be another one?"

"Ooo, you are such a tease."

"I'm also considerate. We've had a pretty good workout tonight, and a nice big meal afterward... so it's really not time for another workout quite yet."

Soka smiled. "I'm glad you said 'yet'. That's an important word."

"Yes. Yes, it is." Miles felt the tiger jump a bit when the meerkat's highly skilled toes grabbed the end of the cloth-rope belt around the big cat's waist and pulled to loosen the knot. "So now, the question is... what shall we do in the meantime?"

"We could always go lie down somewhere."

"Umhm."

"Rest a while."

"Good idea."

"We could go to the--" The tiger gasped a moment. Miles grinned, knowing that his talented toes had managed to loosen the top of his lover's pants. "--couch, to watch a movie."

"Mmm, that sounds good. What do you want to watch?"

"Not sure I can think--" Soka quashed a moan as best he could; Miles' toes had not only provoked a reaction, but one of what he chose to think of (discreetly) as a growing concern. "--of a good title right now."

"I'm sure I can help you come up with something."

"You have, Miles; you definitely have."

"I can tell." Withdrawing his hindpaw, the meerkat tried not to giggle at the high-pitched whine that came from Soka's throat. He stood, padding up to stand next to his lover and wrap his arms around his neck. The tiger put his arms around the meerkat's waist and hugged him tightly. It was Miles' turn to kiss his lover atop his head, and he pet him gently. "You still want someone to write porn about us?"

The big kitty looked up at the meerkat with a silly grin on his face. "Maybe we'll make some of our own."

"Mmm, my favorite! Want to watch a movie first?"

"Mmhm," Soka nodded. "Young Frankenstein."

"Why that one?"

"I'm gonna see if you can sing, 'Oh, Sweet Mystery of Life, At Last I Found You...'!"

Miles kissed his lover's forehead. "Trust me, tiger," he said, "you can always make me hit the high notes." He leaned down, whispering conspiratorially into Soka's ear. "Let's keep the windows open."