In the year of the cat
Allison realizes what she wants. Or at least, she admits it to someone, finally. And then acts on it, because why not?
Allison realizes what she wants. Or at least, she admits it to someone, finally. And then acts on it, because why not?
More Cannon Shoals, because... well, it's getting on summer, isn't it? This story is a couple months old and takes place in the cool, contemplative months of spring, when ocelots are inclined to wonder what the hell they're doing with their life. Advancing the Allie Navarro plotline a bit, although you can read it as just smut if ya like :P Thanks to Spudz for his help editing and
Luperkaios for some good pointers on the characters.
Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute -- as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.
Dramatis Personae, in case you want to get caught up:
Allison Navarro is an ocelot who left Cannon Shoals in 2011 after her stepmom threw her out. She came back in 2015 only to discover that her high-school sweetheart had gotten married and the town isn't what she remembered. Her feelings for him haven't changed, which is a source of some complications. She's trying to be a better person; she's just not certain what that means, particularly since she knows she's not going to stop loving him.
Steffan Kelly is a fox, Allison's old partner, and one of the founders (with Sam Benson and Roger Hall) of the Knot-Bumpers, a 70% decent band that had been dissolved before Allison returned and got them together again. He still loves Allie, a fact complicated by his marriage (>.>), but although she's a self-described "bad influence," Allie only kissed him--it was Stef who decided to take things the rest of the way around the 2017 solar eclipse.
Mary Kelly is a well-off vixen who's made her home in Cannon Shoals because she thinks it's quaint. Her family has quite a bit of money, and she doesn't really fit in to the Shoals, which she wants to reshape to her more civilized interests. She has Steffan's best interests in mind, and was the reason he quit smoking and got a steady job at a machine shop rather than trying to make something of his band.
Jessie Hahn is a deer, "the other guy" who's fine with that, and the drummer for the Unindicted Co-Conspirators, a completely indecent group that is mostly an excuse to get drunk. Allie's friend-with-benefits, a good-natured dude who also left the Shoals but came back when San Francisco got too expensive. He's aware of, and pretty indulgent towards, the ocelot's feelings towards Stef.
"In the Year of the Cat," by Rob Baird
Thump, thump, click. Allison's eyes were closed--no matter. Even through the warm fuzz clouding her mind the ocelot knew that in a few seconds she'd hear the click of the bathroom door again as Jessie returned. Then six footsteps. Then the groan of the bed's frame underneath her. Click.
Thump, thump, thump, thump. "Did you fall asleep?"
"Hm-mm." She shook her head, and held one arm out blindly.
Two more thumps, and then the mattress sank beneath Jessie's weight. She slipped the arm around him, rolling to give the buck a hug. She heard him chuckle. "Good."
Then his lips were on hers, and she opened her eyes to catch the soft light in his gaze. It was a warm kiss, long and tender, and the ocelot's breathing had started to get shallow by the time it ended.
So had his. "Fuck, Allie. I ever told you how good you are?"
The ocelot giggled, and lapped his nose--gently, mindful of her rough tongue. "Ten minutes ago."
Ten minutes ago he'd been pounding into her with that nice, boundless energy he always summoned up when they were together. And she'd felt him start to shudder and stiffen, and just how_good_ the feline was had been the recurring theme of those final, deep thrusts.
And as he'd fallen on her, and they recovered their wits, panting in their tight embrace, he'd said it once or twice more. And Allie told him the truth, which was that he'd been amazing. The whole time he'd been in the bathroom, washing up, throwing away the condom, she'd been replaying the scene in her mind.
"Well. It was just as true then." Jessie flopped onto his back with a contented sigh. "You have any plans for today? Want to go down to the boardwalk?"
"What's on the boardwalk?"
"Boards? My sister's been after me to go bug Donny Chen. He's owed her for work since last fall--I could use some muscle."
Allison couldn't help laughing, not any more than she could help rolling her eyes. Jessie Hahn was six feet and change, well-built, and he carried himself like he damn well knew he owned his body. Allison's friend Dan described the ocelot's own aesthetic as "half-starved refugee from a_Combat Rock_ zone." Even curled up next to him on the bed, the suggestion was ludicrous.
"What?" he teased. "I could, you know."
"I'll try to look tough, then. Boardwalk sounds fun. I might have band practice later, but who knows?"
"You could come to ours," he suggested.
"You don't practice."
The buck grinned, but didn't dispute the charge. Like Allie, he played in a band. It was called 'the Unindicted Co-Conspirators,' and while nobody asked what they might have been indicted_on_, 'disturbing the peace' seemed appropriate. "We could start, and then you could come."
"Maybe."
"On the other hand, practice seems like a_lot_ of work. I'll have to talk it over with the others. How are you and the fox getting along, anyway?"
Hell of a segue. "Stef?" Steffan Kelly was founder and songwriter for the Knot-Bumpers, a group destined to remain perennially local, but both more talented and more sincere than the name suggested.
"Who else?"
"Things are... going alright."
"Just alright?" Jessie's fingers walked up her side. "Better than alright?"
"Just alright," she echoed. Then she put her paw atop his. "Does it bother you?"
"Not really."
"Not really?" He didn't elaborate. "Sorry. I'm gonna make breakfast, how's that? You must've worked up an appetite."
And she let him kiss her, then rolled out of bed. He swatted at her rear playfully--she let him do that, too, while she stole a shirt from his dresser and slipped it on. Jessie's shirts were three sizes too big for her, and she wore them so often they were starting to feel like they fit.
She knew how they hung on her lanky frame. She knew the way his toilet handle needed to be held down a few extra seconds to work properly. She knew where he kept his mouthwash. And, as she cleaned herself up, she didn't know why the very domesticity of it all felt so damned tawdry.
It was weird to say that Stef was a_complication_, since there wasn't much complicated about it. She loved him, even if the word was too dangerous to admit to. And she knew he loved her back. That was all very simple, indeed.
She found a package of bacon in Jessie's fridge and pulled two strips free. He claimed not to like it much; he stocked it for her benefit. He was a nice guy.Probably nicer than I deserve, she had to admit, if only to herself. Life had taught her the need to wait for the other shoe to drop.
He was playing with his phone when she padded back into his room with breakfast. "Had to use the last of your tomatoes."
Jessie shrugged, tossing his phone aside and taking the plate she offered. "It's a worthy sacrifice. Can get more when I'm out. Anyway, thing is--sit down, kitten, you're making me nervous."
She joined him on the bed, kneeling over her plate to keep any toast crumbs from getting onto the sheets. "Thing is?"
"Would it change anything if I_was_ bothered? No. Would you give Stef up? I mean, no offense, kitten, but he's married. If that wasn't gonna stop you, my opinion probably won't." He said it the same affable way he'd talked about the tomatoes. "Could I ask you to choose? No."
"You_could_."
He worked at a slice of tomato with his fork before giving up and switching to the knife she'd provided. "Sure," he continued. "But why? I knew what I was getting into. Be kind of a dick move to change my mind now."
"Not everyone would agree with that." Jessie set his silverware down, fixing her in a dry glare. "What? They wouldn't."
"Not everyone agrees_Green_ is better than Automatic for the People. So what?" He went back to eating his breakfast, forking a slice of tomato and egg into his mouth and giving a satisfied sigh. "God, you are good. What would make you want him less?"
"I don't know."
"See? Beats me, too."
The thought,I should give up on this, recurred every so often since her return to Cannon Shoals. She hadn't considered phrasing it exactly as Jessie did--like Stef had a magic spell over her, and it could be broken. Or like she could go to therapy for it, training her to reject the fox.
"If it was just 'a better alternative,' maybe I'd be kinda pissed, 'cause that makes it seem like I'm not, and you're just using me or something."
"Fair point."
"Then again, since I didn't make_you_ breakfast, who's using who?" And he seemed to think that was the end of it. He was easy-going, perhaps to a fault. "Maybe you could ask yourself a different question, though. What do you want?"
"I don't know."
"You_really_ don't know, or you don't want to say it?"
Her whiskers twitched as she turned the question over. "I think I really don't know. Or... try this: I want to grow up--I just don't know what I want to grow up into."
"You've got another year to figure it out." Her twenty-ninth birthday had been earlier in the month. Jessie, younger by two years, teasingly asked if she was an ocelot or a cougar. "So think fast."
"That's not funny." She tried to scowl at him, but his grin made it difficult even to pretend.
Then he leaned forward and licked at her whiskers. "Had a crumb," he explained. "See, you're already starting to lose your faculties."
Allie didn't have a good response. Instead, she waited for the buck to finish breakfast and snuggled against his chest until they were restless enough to head down to the town's boardwalk.
Cannon Shoals had rung in spring that year with unseasonable warmth; she even left her windbreaker behind, tackling the boardwalk in only a t-shirt. It gave Jessie a good excuse for short sleeves, too, and that was always a good look for him.
Donnie Chen worked the_Wayward L_, one of the crabbing boats that the Shoals kept around to show they still had a sense of naïve optimism. Her sister ships were already out for the day; Chen was working on the block of the boat's crane, nodding his head to David Bowie on an ancient boombox next to his toolkit.
The tiger's fur was streaked with grease, but he met the pair with a wave and turned down the radio. "Hey, Jessie. Hey... Allison, right?"
Allie confirmed her name with a nod and stuck her paw up for him to give it a shake. She didn't mind the grease--it was a good reminder that Cannon Shoals still did_some_ work.
"What's up? We don't have anything for you yet... MacRory went out super early, I think."
"Rent must be due," Jessie said. He crossed his arms and tried to look tough. "Speaking about that, you owe Kim a hundred bucks."
"What for? Shit, the alterations? I paid her, right?"
"Nope."
The tiger frowned. "Are you_sure_ I didn't pay her back? I think I paid her back."
"My sister still balances a paper checkbook, dude. If she says you didn't pay..."
"Allie?"
She turned away from the conversation to find Stef Kelly looking at her, head tilted. "Oh! Hi! What brings you here?"
"Mary wanted to see if there was anything fresh. She's..." He glanced behind him, craning his head. "Over talking to Horvath, I guess." Allison couldn't see the vixen, so she took the opportunity to give him a kiss. "Hey--"
She kissed him again, before he tried to convince himself that protesting was worthwhile. After a second he relented, slipping his arms around her and adding a fond embrace to the touch. "There you go."
"Just--be careful," Stef murmured, and let her go. "People are watching."
Jessie had finished up with Don, and joined them. "Nah. Only me, really."
Stef gave him a slightly worried look. "Old friends, Jessie," he explained. "We're old friends, is what it is."
"Oh, I know." The buck flashed his wide, open grin. "You think I don't keep track of the competition?"
"It's not--it's not like that."
"Sure. I guess I could share..."
"It's not like_that_, either," Stef amended hastily.
"I'm kidding! You need to relax a bit, man. How've you been, Stef? I heard that you might be up at the Window in Lincoln City, right? Congratulations."
"Allie told you? A friend of a friend works there--he's been promising it for almost a year. It's... like,finally, you know? Sorry I didn't mention it last week when you dropped by. Wasn't a sure thing."
"Yeah, I gotcha. The song you mentioned, that'll be new there?"
"Yep! I'm crossing my fingers, but I think we might be close enough to finish everything in time..."
"Stef's a bit of a perfectionist," Allie said.
"It's our chance to make a good impression!"
She grinned. "I know, I know. I'm not_blaming_ you. But you are a perfectionist."
"There are worse things to--"
"Stef?" a voice called out. Mary: his wife, another fox, about the same age and well above his station. "There you... are. Oh. Hello, Allison."
"Hello, Mary."I hate you. That, Allison was willing to swear, was also exactly what Mary meant by the word 'hello.' She wasn't sure how much the vixen knew--how much she even suspected--but the enmity ran deep.
Mary disliked Allie for the same reason Stef's mother did: the ocelot was, at best, a troublesome influence. At worst, she openly encouraged Stef's bad habits. His band, his cigarettes, his circle of disheveled friends...
And in turn, Allie disliked the harness Mary wrapped about her husband. And she disliked the intricate decoration of her dress, and the glint of ruby in her earrings, and the color of her manicured nails, and the dulcet of her voice. "It's been a while--I think Stef said you were in Ohio. Cincinnati?"
"Columbus," Mary said.
"Conference," Stef explained.
Jessie--more than perceptive enough to read the subtext of every line of dialogue--cocked his head like a confused puppy. "Conference, Ohio?"
It was the right thing to say to disarm Mary. After all, now she gets to run her mouth, Allie thought darkly. "No, I was attending a conference in Columbus. A green technology symposium--I've been getting ideas about investment in Cannon Shoals."
"Investment?" That would've been the time for a truly baffled look, but Jessie played it straight. "Like what?"
"Mary helps to run her family's trust," Stef explained.
"The Corbin Foundation, exactly. My cousin--do you know Dougal Galvan? You must know Dougal."
"Sure." Jessie nodded. "Runs the credit union. Owns every damn ship on the docks, if he ever felt like calling the loans in. You're his cousin?"
"Indeed--though I'm from Detroit, of course. The Pointes, if you must be precise. Cannon Shoals may be small, but it really could become something unique. I was telling Steffan earlier about a presentation I saw on clean power, and I got to thinking about that--our town doesn't really use very much electricity. The grid, the power grid, it was designed for the canneries and the wood mill, so you'd think from the power lines and all--but--what were you telling me, Steffan?"
The fox had let his eyes wander to the docks; he looked over abruptly at the sound of his name. "About?"
"The power?"
Stef blinked. "Oh... right. It's not from the river, that's all I said."
"Yes! Oh, right! Right, did you know the Neatasknea River has never been dammed? It's why it's so ecologically important, for the salmon. But I think that means this is a good opportunity! Cannon Shoals isn't really tied down to anything. We could run the town entirely on a mix of solar and wind power... maybe tidal generators, though I do not know_quite_ how those work."
Allie glanced up at the low clouds, drifting like an afterthought of winter over the harbor in utter disregard to the warm morning.She doesn't know how solar power works, either, I'm guessing.
"Wouldn't that be expensive?" Jessie asked.
"It's an investment, dear. What's your name?"
"Jessie Hahn." He held his paw out for her to shake. "Mary?"
"Indeed. Are you Allison's partner?"
The briefest hint of mischief flickered through his eyes. "I guess," the buck said. "We're old friends, is what it is. I know Stef, too, through the band."
"Oh." Allie could_see_ Mary trying to size the buck up, trying to figure out which box he fit into. "That... project of his. Are you part of it?"
"God, no. But I figure everyone needs a hobby, right? You were telling me about tidal generators. Do those make the tide bigger, or what?"
The vixen took 'everyone needs a hobby' as suitably dismissive, apparently, because she dropped the line of inquiry. "The opposite, actually. They use the tides to generate energy. Imagine Cannon Shoals being completely self-sufficient! Not exactly an 'acropolis,' as Soleri might call it, but much closer than it is now. And with the limited traffic, wouldn't it be an ideal place for self-driving cars?"
"Pretty futuristic," Jessie suggested.
"Investment! You have to start somewhere, after all."
"Right, but I still wouldn't want to get hit by one. Say, what happens to all the existing cars? You know, like... log trucks and stuff."
"Replaced!" She was excited, clearly, but good upbringing muted the wagging of the vixen's tail. "Which is better for everyone. There was that man just last week who was hit by a truck, wasn't there?"
"Greg Springer," Stef said quietly. "Still in the hospital."
"By a log truck, right, dear? You said he pulled out in front of a truck and it hit his car, and that's why you had to go into work, to cover for his brother. Wasn't it a truck from that mill?"
"Yeah. On that blind turn onto 520."
Jessie sucked in his breath sharply. "Oof. That's a bad one--I speak from experience. Always hate that turn. Damn if it isn't the only way to get from the warehouses on Washington, though. I'm a delivery driver, see?"
"So you must be interested in self-driving cars!"
"Well, yeah. To the extent I gotta worry about my job." He grinned, hiding the dark undercurrent with his quirky smile. "What are you gonna do about all the folks you put out of work?"
"Well... that's always the way it is, with progress." It was a non-answer. Allie wasn't surprised that Mary gave no sign of any awareness. "The self-driving car company will need employees, too."
"Sure. No doubt about that. But me, I'm thinking... if they needed to pay just as many folks as they were paying to drive, and they pay 'em just as much, then... what's the point of making the robots in the first place? Right?"
"I suppose..."
"So what happens if I ain't one of the lucky guys who gets a job?"
"Well, that's true, but you might be..."
Jessie put his grin back on. "Or I might not. Beware of Greeks bearing gifts. I'll believe they're making Cannon Shoals the model of the future when I see it--'til then, I'll keep looking out for those log trucks myself."
"But, you could be part of that future, too..."
"Or I could stick with what I got, though, right? That's the thing, you know? We're all futurists; just that some of us are dreaming about a shitty future." He did not clarify which of them he thought that might be. "Anyway--Stef, my man. You told me you almost had that EP ready when I stopped by the shop last week. You heard it yet?" he asked, turning to Mary.
The vixen's soft, immaculate ears twitched and her expression darkened by the slightest fraction of a degree. "No, I haven't."
"That's two of us, then. And you!" He thumped Stef's shoulder. "You said you were proud of the song you'd just written. Said you'd share it with me. What's up?"
His eyes flicked over, in the direction of his wife. "It's okay, yeah."
"Oh, that modesty. Shoot, Stef, you know what my band sounds like--I know it's gotta be better than_that_. Tell you what--studio's just up the street?"
"Uh huh. Riggs' place."
"Let's go over there?"
Mary spoke up. "We should get the fish back and in the freezer, actually."
"Aw, it won't take too long. You don't have to come, I guess--me an' Allie'll get him back quick, if that's easier? I got things to do myself, anyhow, just don't want him to get out of it this time."
Mary relented, probably figuring that Jessie would act as Allison's chaperone, too. "That sounds fine. You won't keep him out late?"
Jessie chuckled. "We drove down, and it's not even noon--not like we're going to start drinking, right? I'll take care of him. Nice meeting you, finally. See ya again real soon."
They watched the vixen make her way back to the parking lot. Stef's ears twitched. "I really shouldn't stay out that late, probably."
"Domesticated, I get it. Or helping with the self-driving cars." Jessie shook his head. "How's Greg doing, anyway? You heard anything?"
"Stable condition, that's all I know. Pete took a couple days off to go visit him. He'll be out on medical for a long time, I figure. Thank God for the union, eh?"
"You guys ain't, I thought."
"No. No, not me or Pete. Greg works for Martin-Barlow, though; he's a teamster. I think. Peter said he'd do okay, that's all I remember. Worked out for me--I got Pete's hours."
Jessie laughed. "Thank God for the union."
"Meant they let me run the plasma cutter. That's pretty cool. Fuck, man--we had somebody from Martin-Barlow in, actually. You shoulda seen it. They wore out the gear for one of their conveyor belts--thing probably came from the Great Depression. Like this big across." Stef held his paws apart at chest width. "Sixty years of grime on that motherfucker."
"You make gears now?"
"Eh, in a pinch we can. I guess it works, or else they're not complaining."
"They'd complain, trust me," Allison said, snickering. With the lumber mill running again, Martin-Barlow was back to assuming they called the shots in Cannon Shoals.
Stef grinned. The machine shop he worked at was more or less beholden to the mill, and he knew that as well as anyone. "That's what I figure. Was cool, though. Had to build it from scratch, pretty much."
"Nice." Jessie sounded like he meant it.
"For sure. Good to have honest work. Anyway--Riggs, right? You want to hear the song?"
"Oh." Jessie shrugged. "Yeah, one of these days."
"But you said..."
"Yeah. But I should get to the IGA before it closes," the deer declared, stretching out, arching his back. "Pick up some tomatoes. Guess I'll head out, too."
"It closes at 9," Stef said. "It's, what? Ten 'til noon?"
"I walk slow. Catch up with you two later--I still want to hear that track, okay?"
"Of course. I'll bug Rog to get something mixed today or tomorrow." And that left them alone, with Steffan shaking his head in confusion. "Did he do that on purpose?"
She could still see Jessie, moving in that ambling clip he had when he was in a good mood. "I dunno."
"He seems nice. It doesn't... it..." Stef had been keeping an eye on the buck, too. "Does it bother him--you and me? Us?"
"He says it doesn't. We talked a little."
"Hard to know when he's being serious," Stef decided.
"Maybe. I think he was serious about the song. How about that, anyway?" Though, in truth, Allison didn't know what Jessie had been planning; she kept the conversation focused mostly to avoid letting her thoughts wander. "Is Roger even working on it?"
"I think he was, but he got lucky this week with his hours, too."
Allie shook her head, and as they walked back from the docks she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and fished the lighter from her pocket. "If any of those bums would_retire_..." Roger Hall had a part-time job at the Wilson Glassworks--part-time only because he was too young to have any kind of seniority. Thank God for the union. Right. Roger said twenty-four hours was a good week.
"Maybe they'll figure out a way to make electric glass."
The ocelot rolled her golden eyes. "What the fuck was that, anyway? Like Tesla wants anything with this fucking mess? I wish I could be that naïve."
When she tipped the pack towards him, Stef helped himself to one of her Marlboros. "It keeps her busy. She's..." The fox busied himself with her lighter, waiting for the cigarette to catch. "It's not_bad_, Allie."
"You're happy?"
He took another drag before shrugging. "Yes and no. I... Look, you're not the right person to ask for advice--but can I? And you'll pretend to be objective?"
"Sure."
"Sometimes I think I want to work things out. Sometimes... she's been talking about starting a family. A lot."
Allie gathered enough willpower to be_objective_, though it took a third of her cigarette to do so. "Alright. You don't want kids?"
"I don't know. Not really, but I could be talked into it? It's just that I don't want--I mean--I mean,fuck, Allie. You and me both know how shitty it is to realize things aren't gonna work out sixteen years too late."
She still kept up with her mom, who'd moved out of state a few years before Allie had. Rick Navarro was dead to both of them. Stef's folks had split up, too--she remembered those tense years of junior high all too well. "Yeah."
"But Mary's right about... how... we_could_. I'm working now, and she's pretty comfortable. So we could. But if I make that decision, other things... they gotta change, too." He paused, lowering his ears. "You're tired of being an 'other thing,' too, I bet?"
It definitely came with its own share of frustration. "I like you too much to think about that," she said, trying to be diplomatic.
"Same for me. And I don't know how to clean it all up, Allie."
"What would make... what would make_us_ want each other less?"
She'd moved back to Cannon Shoals for him.Can even admit it to yourself, these days. Maybe one day you'll admit it to Stef, too. And as they'd drifted back together, she heard his mom's voice, calling her a bad influence. She'd called herself that, too.
And then, finally, they'd kissed. And some tiny, small part of her hoped that might've been the end of it. That with the anticipation gone, and reality in its stead, she'd come to her senses. But the kiss hadn't done it. The furtive embraces that followed hadn't done it. The time in the supply closet of the motel she worked at hadn't done it. So what would, really?
Stef finished off his cigarette. "I don't know."
She didn't, either. Which seemed like an easy answer, in a way. Childish; petulant. But it was hard to grow up, too. Not because she loved being immature, but because the ocelot didn't know what she might grow up_into_.
What was it supposed to offer? Who were her role models? Not her dad, that was for sure. Not Stef's parents. Maybe Zach, who ran the motel and was even younger than her--but he had his own problems, too. She saw the wistful way he looked at the departing cars, sometimes, his daydreams dimming with their fading taillights.
But Stef Kelly's eye wasn't drawn to cars. It wasn't drawn to settling down and raising children, either, she was pretty certain of that. Perhaps it was the music. She let him go, and kept the thoughts close until practice, later in the day. And by the end, she almost had an answer.
Almost.
--and I don't know why, but it's gone; the closing door soliloquies. And I don't know why, but to me, that silence lasts eternities...
"Keep fucking that up," Roger said. He was playing the mix over his monitor speakers, so they all could listen, but he also had an earbud wedged in place and whatever he heard, he didn't like. "I still think it's one of those Indian names, you know? Snohomish, Puyallup, Soquiloluy."
Stef wrote their lyrics, and should've took responsibility. He teased his old friend instead: "You're doing it again."
"Sorry. How about the rest of the song? What do the cats think?"
Allie liked what he'd done, even if--as he repeatedly insisted--it was only a rough cut. "It's great, Roger. Your voice sounds great."
"Thanks." He winked. "That's one vote. Sammy? You gonna get off my case about the drums? No, I didn't think so. Hit me."
"Still not sure I like the way it sounds coming off the bridge. Kinda muddy."
Roger leaned back in the worn office chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well... there's not much I can do. You make a lot of noise, Sammy. I guess I could try miking the snare separately..."
"How long would that take?" Stef asked.
The mutt kept leaning back; his head lolled and his eyes scanned the bench of his haphazardly assembled equipment. "I'd need a new mic... maybe that's it, though."
"What about the one Andy was fucking with?"
"Oh, shit, yeah--I bet he'll let me borrow it. Tomorrow's okay, right? I'm off tomorrow."
They were already starting to pack up; tomorrow would be fine. Stef laughed, patting Sam's shoulder with one of those_see-I-told-you-it-would-work-out_ grins. "Sure. Hey, the verse could use work, too."
"Sorry." Roger stuck out his tongue. "Can't help bein' dumb, Stef."
"It was all the drugs we did. If I had new stuff--do you think we really_could_ meet up tomorrow? My shift ends at 2. What about you guys?" Roger gave a thumbs-up. Sam Benson could only stay until 7, but it still gave them a nice window to work in. "Man, we could really do this."
His tail was even starting to wag. The enthusiasm was infectious. "If I get 'Threshold' mixed this weekend, that's all of next week left to finish something. Allie, what about Dawn?"
That was the thing about the Knot-Bumpers: they were so haphazard that Allison was almost the most responsible of them. She'd been the one offering to pay Dawn Danis to come up with an album cover, and she'd done_her_ job early. "You liked the stuff from February?"
"Almost forgot. Yeah, that was great. Fuck, guys, we're so close to being able to finish this!" Roger had a friend willing to make the CDs for them with two weeks' notice, and they'd finally booked a show in Lincoln City...
And it wasn't much--they'd be playing for tips--but it was_something_, and Stef's happiness was infectious. Nobody was naive enough to think it was liable to be a huge break for the band...
But they were happy, and Roger Hall shut down the bits of hardware at his mixing station and said he was going to see about getting another microphone.
"What about you, Sam? Packing up?"
"Yeah, figure I should."
"We've still got a few minutes left on the schedule..."
"Well, why don't you and the cat take some time to discuss the album cover. Y'all are the artistic ones." Sammy grinned, and hauled his backpack onto his broad shoulders. "I hear you make enough noise, anyway."
"Might as well discuss this as a group, right?" Stef asked.
Roger had already left, though, and Sam paused with one paw at the door. "Think you'd be better off if you just, uh. Had some space."
"Are we really that obvious?"
"You kidding me, Stef?"
And, with a laugh and a swirling lash of his short tail, Sammy left. He'd lost the rest of it at the machine shop a few years back, part of the blood sacrifice small towns demanded. Allison was waiting for her turn.
One day, it would come. For the moment, she took advantage of the privacy to close the distance between her and the fox. "You sound excited about the band."
"I_am_ excited."
Allie leaned up, giving him a soft kiss to set the tone. "You should be, Stef. It sounds good. And we're close! And that gig..."
"About a lot of things, yeah." Instinctively, he'd wrapped his arms around her, and when she kissed him again the fox didn't protest. But he ended it early, trying to catch himself: "We should stop."
"Do you mean it this time?" She felt the way his paws tightened around her shoulders. "I don't think you do. I think you need this. Like I do."
"Do we?"
"Ever since I came back, I've been trying to find a way to say it wasn't true... saying it was immature and I needed to act like an adult... making excuses for all this stuff--us and the band and all. Like, who was I gonna grow up_into_?" She kissed him again, and the ocelot felt a thrill ripple through her just like she'd known she would. "You know what I love about you? Yeah, 'love,' I said it."
"What?"
"I love how you make me excited about waking up, Stef. You make me get excited about_real_ things. Stuff I can see... or hold... this gig in Lincoln City, fuck, I've never played in front of anybody who wasn't you guys but you make me look forward to it too much to care."
His eyes met hers, and they stayed there. "Yeah."
"Screw self-driving cars, Stef.This is us. This is something we can have. I love that. That's what I needed to realize. I needed to grow up to be someone who could admit that I love how you make me feel."
He hadn't wavered. But she felt his tail, starting to wag. He adjusted his paws on her back--and then, a second later, he hugged her tightly, holding her still as his muzzle locked to hers. Her eyes closed, and the world compressed to the warmth of his lips, and the taste of his tongue, and her lungs, burning when she finally had to pull away from him and she heard the fox's growl: "You're right."
"About?"
He kissed her again. Deeper, even less hesitant than before. She knew he was letting himself feel it--savor it--the way she had, when the heat of it burned away the last of whatever useless guilt remained. When they were exposed to each other, vulnerable in the realization of what remained. "Everything," he panted.
And more than that, she knew she was his, and always had been. That denial had only served the flimsy defense of some callow virtue they'd never really possessed. That all she had to do was ask, and--the ocelot squeezed him, and stole another kiss. because_God_, she'd earned it, after all. "So if I was right, then what are we gonna do? Huh?"
His eyes glinted. "Fuck it, get your clothes off."
Not the kind of thing she had to be told twice. Allison felt the shakiness in her fingers, undoing the clasp of her jeans--it took her an extra second or two before it yielded, and she could slide them down and off her velvet-furred legs.
And even as she did that Stef's paws were following, groping her, raking his claws through her fur until they caught in her panties and that pressure was an order all of its own. The fox's growl flooded her ear, and she heard her plaintive, frustrated mewling in response for all the time it took to tear the damn things off.
For a moment his lips were back on hers, and the wall of the studio was a cool, hard pressure at her shoulders. He had her pinned, his hips grinding sharply--Allie was all too aware of the extra barrier of fabric from his own clothes.
She pawed at them insistently, sharp claws tugging the denim down and off him--and his boxers, too, apparently. Because the next thing she felt was the sharp, insistent warmth of his cock pushing into her thigh when he ground against her once more.
Stef let her up, putting one of his paws at her shoulder to turn her away from the wall. She opened her mouth: "But the rest of my clothes--"
A kiss, fierce as it was brief, silenced her. And then another growl, rumbly, the words almost indistinct. "Leave 'em. Desk." He gave her a shove, getting her on the way, and though her legs were abruptly weak she managed to stumble the half-dozen steps over to Roger's mixing station.
At least his computer's gone. Everything else is bolted down. He did a good job with that, right? He--
She gasped, half a second before she knew she was_going to_ gasp and half a second after Stef nudged between her shoulder-blades and she bent obligingly over the desk. He bent with her; his sharp muzzle bit down on her soft ear to freeze her in place. "Allie. You sure about this?"
She wasn't sure about_anything_; her thoughts were a blur. Particularly because she could feel him pressing against her, and when her sinuous tail curled up he worked his way closer and his slick shaft nudged up and against her lips.
So she answered him in movement instead; her hips bucked backwards against the fox and they both groaned simultaneously--her breath washed the surface of the desk and left a ghost that faded slowly. Just in time to feel him pushing into her, to feel the way his pointed tip spread her open for the smooth, heated thickness that followed.
Her next groan was lower, and the pitch deepened with each new bit of fox that filled her. Until he was hilted, with the soft fur of his sheath brushing against her. Stef's paws, spread-fingered, squeezed at her possessively; his voice had the coarse sureness of boots on gravel.
"I've missed you," he growled. Another thrust--pulling back unevenly and driving sharply into her. "God, you're so goddamn good."
And his pace, rapid and insistent and steady, made the ocelot_damn_ sure of his sincerity. For half a dozen of those deep bucks she could only gasp. She fought for words, and when they tumbled from her muzzle it was plaintive and demanding. "Fuck me! Fuck me like a dog, Stef!"
At some point in the future, distant and lust-hazed, she could see the inevitable finish--to have him locked in her, growling and sated. To have his gratified snarl in her folded ears, and his possessive grip holding her tight. That was what she begged for, explicit or no...
Until then she could focus on the heavy, solid pressure of his thrusts, and the way he plunged himself into her, and the realization of just how long it had been since he'd taken her. And the overwhelming certainty that she'd been missing him for no reason at all.
Because_fuck_ was it good--every time he bucked back into her it drove the conscious thought from her mind, replaced by a squeal of pleasure. She put her paws out, digging her claws in to the edge of the table, and even then he was slamming her forward, rocking her hard into the desk until it jolted with her along the floor.
So the ocelot braced herself and let the fox use her, begged him to take his pleasure from her in the ragged, halfway-brutal thrusts that speared him into her.God, it felt... right, that was the word for it, it felt right to have him hammering her into something pliant and giddy like she was under some machine in his shop. Like that ecstasy was something to be worked into her, leaving sparks and the hiss of molten emotion behind. Allie's voice cracked into wordless moans that would leave her throat raw--later.
Now it was just the sensory overload of his energetic pace. Fucking the last of his better nature into her, ramming it into submission as his hips drove into the feline's lifted rump. She let herself call out to him... let herself squeal in wild abandon... let herself just enjoy being nothing more than his bitch...
"Oh,God"--his claws hooked her hips and hauled her wantonly into a stroke that buried him, knot and all, deep in her cunt until she could feel him, tense and throbbing. Feel the growing heat of her own pleasure starting to spill over, closer and closer with every touch, every word from the fox. "God, Allie, I love you."
And with the girth of his cock stuffing her and the passion straining his growled voice, she let herself admit what she'd held back. "I love you, too!" His grip tightened. He shoved his cock in again, the knot noticeably thicker. "I love you so much--tie me--claim me, Stef,please!"
One more buck, the strength of it forcing her up and onto her tiptoes. She held fast to the desk and did what she could to push back against him.He's never like this with Mary, she thought--the accusation a brilliant, forbidden flash of pleasure.
Never fucks her like this. Never snarls like that when he takes her--when he--oh, God! His knot was pulling her back with him, grinding against her from inside as it swelled too far to even think of withdrawal. Fill me, love. "Cum in me! Take me!" Like you don't with--
His sudden stillness, and the way his growl choked off, spared her from finishing the thought. He'd locked up, and his fingers pushed hard through her pelt to hold her just as frozen as the fox was before he groaned her name, and Allison felt his buried cock flex and jolt inside her.
And even before the sensation of wet warmth spreading within her hit the ocelot she lost the last of her control. He was_hers_, finally, and that was the only thing that mattered. She had him, had her lover growling in satisfaction behind her, within her, and the only consequence that mattered was the pleasure that wrapped her body in delirious constriction.
Her paws grabbed for the desk until they hurt, and her eyes rolled back sightless, and for endless seconds she knew neither the pitch of her wail or the convulsive shuddering of her frame--just the sureness of the bliss that clenched her body into one spasm after another.
Warm. The back of her neck was warm. Stef had his arms circling her, and his muzzle was resting on her shoulder. Every fresh gasp from the fox worked into her fur while they worked to get their breathing back under control.
"I love you," he said. Finally. Again, now that he wasn't distracted in fucking her. And she'd known all along, of course. Even so she twisted herself around to kiss him, and held the kiss until they were panting again.
"I love you, too, Stef." After all, she was his. And he was hers--his shaft still locked into her, letting her delay the moment they'd have to be separate again.
And that was where he'd be able to second-guess himself, or their future. And he'd think about saying it was time to reconsider things. And he'd clearly still be seeing them as some tawdry aberration, waiting for fate to correct itself.
"So," she said. "What comes next?"
"Was thinking," he began, and stretched out to get comfortable. His paws stayed around her, and he lifted his muzzle from her shoulder to nuzzle at her neck. "Jessie Hahn. He's got a van, doesn't he?"
"Yeah..."
"Do you think he'd let you borrow it? Between that and your Jeep, we can get everything up to Lincoln City in one trip. I don't trust Roger's car..."
She didn't either. And of course Jessie would offer to drive--hell, he might not even do more than charge for gas. Allie turned, catching sight of his eyes and the look that said there'd be no more second-guessing.
"What? You're saying you do trust that old thing?"
"No. Not at all. He's had it since before I left."
Before. Stef grinned, seeing that border receding the way she did. "Not even for nostalgia's sake?"
"Fuck nostalgia." Awkward as it was to turn and kiss him, she pressed her lips to the fox warmly, until she'd made her point. "Today's what we have, Stef."
"What about tomorrow?"
She kissed him again, and the silence lasted eternities.