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The gathering tent was crowded. Phillippe and the other eight dogs of his team didn't exactly have a lot of personal space between the other tables, and getting food and drink to the table was an adventure in itself. They managed, though -- it was luxurious compared to wolfing down meat slop and frozen fish chunks out on the trail.

The group of huskies jostled their way past other tables to crowd in along one end of a long wooden bench with their drinks. They'd been lucky: the spot had a great view of the stage where a variety of acts were scheduled to perform late into the night. A group of dogs on the stage were playing what looked like a couple of small taiko drums and some sort of box-bodied, long-necked instrument Phillippe didn't know the name of. It sounded good. Different, but good. Of course, that was the whole point of the gathering.

With the press of bodies, the tent was warm, and with his team's winter pelts grown in and their training underway, they'd opted for a minimalist look. Really minimalist, in fact: they were all down to loin cloths. The women on the team, all five of them, wore light wraps over their breasts -- a concession to the aggressively mixed company, much the same as their loin cloths were. Left to their own devices, they all went around in the nude much of the time. They were all northern dogs, and only in the coldest weather did they need more protection than their pelts provided.

Jane, one of their lead dogs, elbowed him in the ribs. "Whatcha thinkin' about, Big D?" She had a black patch of fur around one of her eyes and one ear had never perked, so she had a somewhat lopsided look that made everything she said sound like trouble. She was also a damned sharp leader: intelligent, considered, and decisive.

He snorted. Phillippe was the driver, and as such, one the smallest dogs on the team, since it was his job to keep the sled balanced as they ran, so he often wasn't contributing to moving the team forward. He was also one of the most agile, though there wasn't a single dog on the team that wasn't light on their feat. Even the wheel dogs, burly tanks that they were, could pretty much turn on a dime. Had to, really, given that they were the ones who really pulled the sled through corners. Driving with novice wheels was a rough experience.

"Who says I'm thinking about anything?" He hid a grin behind a drink of his beer.

"'Cause you're always thinkin', D. It's your job." She nudged him again, jostling him as he drank. Jane was one of the more physical dogs on the team.

"I'm more than just my job, Jane," he replied with mock offense. He put a paw to his chest to emphasize the hurt.

"Sure, sure. But you don't stop thinkin' just 'cause you aren't on the clock."

"Mmm, I suppose not." He shrugged. "Nothing much, really."

"Yeah? Looking for company?" She patted his thigh under the table, making an offer of it. Most teams he'd known had a sort of open family deal going, where anyone slept with anyone, sometimes all at once. They were just so physical and so close and spent so much time in the nude, it just worked better to embrace it. And each other. Phillippe had to admit there wasn't much like coming back from a drive and getting into a big, tangled pile with his team.

He shook his head, though. "Nah. Not tonight, I think."

She rubbed his thigh fondly, ruffling the fur. It felt nice even if he wasn't in the mood. "Well if you change your mind, a few of us are definitely planning to hook up back at the tent after a few more beers."

He grinned and nosed at her cheek. "Thanks."

"So anything eating you? You looked a little off at dinner."

He shrugged. "I don't think so? Maybe just feeling a little restless."

She waved a paw. "Here? Isn't that sort of the point?"

Phillippe took another drink as he considered. "I suppose it is. But it doesn't feel like that, you know?"

Jane shrugged, then squeezed his thigh again. "Not really, D. But you ain' gotta talk about it if you don't want to, eh?"

He grinned. "It's ok. I guess I'm still sorting it out. I'm feeling happy and content and agitated and in need of change all at once."

Jane gave a short bark of a laugh. "You sure do contain multitudes, Phillippe. I think you got a few extra in there for the rest of us, too." She prodded him gently in the head, then rubbed one of his ears. Jane could needle you and let you know you were loved at the same time; Phillippe thought it was one of the things that made her such a good leader -- you knew she was trying to help you get the best of yourself out there.

The musicians had stopped their music and packed up while he hadn't been paying attention, and he snorted in the silence. "I'm not gonna argue there."

Another band came on stage: a trio of cream-coated, pointy-eared dogs in colorful clothes, two carrying different sorts of drums and a slender-muzzled bitch carrying a bagpipe that looked like it had too few drones.

Phillippe perked up. "Oh, what's this now?"

Jane chuckled. "The schedule said it was some Galician group." She paused, thinking back. Jane had that sort of memory, another factor that made her a great lead -- she could remember just about every trail report word for word on the spot. "Lessee, Corazón das montañas, Galicia, Spain, gaita (bagpipes) and drums." She nodded at the end, a physical sort of end-of-recall marker.

The bitch on stage had inflated her pipes and let out a short, sharp howl, and then the tent was filled with the high-pitched wail of pipes, joined shortly by a snare drum and something deeper. It filled the space and almost drowned out conversation, except for the most dedicated. Phillippe found himself grinning, his tongue hanging out of his muzzle.

Jane patted his thigh sharply and chuckled. "I think somebody's in love. I see your paws tapping, champ, why don't you get up there and dance for her?"

Phillippe coughed. "What now?"

She snorted. "Oh come on. You love dancing, we've seen it. You're good! Get up there." She leaned out past him and shouted down the table. "Oi, Hella, think D here should get up and dance?"

Hella, the other lead dog, not infrequently or unfairly called "Hellbitch," leaned back and grinned widely, her eyes flashing. "Oh hell yes. I wanna see our boy move!"

He sighed and stood, extracting himself from the bench. "Ok, ok." He couldn't deny the music made him want to move. And it'd be good to dance. He hadn't really needed much convincing.

Jane gave his rump a swat. "Good! Go! Now me, I see some blacksmiths who look like they could use some company."

Phillippe grinned down at her. "Think you can handle them?"

She snorted. "Hah! I'll be thrilled to find out I can't."

Phillippe left her and slowly worked his way through the crowd toward the clear spot in front of the stage. It had even been lifted off the floor a few inches and looked like it might be sprung. That'd be a nice touch, and easy on his knees later. He could feels his team's eyes on him as he stepped out of the press onto the dance floor, and then he could feel everyone else's eyes find him, too. He shrugged, it wasn't that much different than being with the team on a run, right?

The music was different, though. He caught the bagpiper eyeing him as she played, and he grinned at her, his tail giving a slow wag behind him. She grinned back around the mouthpiece.

Phillippe found the beat with his paw, tapping it out on the floor, then sank his weight and let the music guide him. It ran hot and fast, pipes wailing an almost-frantic melody with drums driving along beneath it. Phillippe found himself spinning and stopping, unwinding, stomping out a staccato pattern to keep up. The piece only lasted a handful of minutes, but it had him panting like he'd been sprinting.

The respite didn't last long, just a short, droning bridge between pieces, when the tempo picked up again. This piece was more sedate, and one of the drummers let his drum go silent and clapped his paws to accent the beat. Phillippe joined in, lifting his paws by his head and clapping his own paws as he danced, moving more slowly, swaying his hips and striking the floor on different beats. The music had a latin flavor, but he'd never heard that mixed with bagpipes before. It was compelling and it felt damned good to move to.

He found the piper grinning at him again, the mouthpiece caught lightly between her teeth, the dark wood contrasting with her white fur. He grinned back and exaggerated the sway of his hips, countering the movement with his tail. Her eyes flashed and she pushed the beat faster, daring him to keep up. He did, and while the piece never made it to the pace of the first one, she played with the rhythm and tempo to keep him on his toes, challenging him to follow her as though she was leading a dance.

The band played a few more pieces until their set was over, and Phillippe danced the whole time. He kept pace, letting her lead him around the small dance floor, following her changes as she played, meeting her challenges. It was not so different from training with the team, reading their mood and when they decided to push him, playing crack-the-whip around corners or taking him over a patch of jumble ice without warning. They knew he could handle it, and, if pressed, he'd admit he enjoyed the jolt of adrenaline it supplied. Dancing for the piper had let him play with that same ability to read someone else, and he'd loved it. Phillippe figured he should say something.

She was just putting her pipes away, and she smiled at him. "Oh hey there! I saw you dancing; I'm glad you enjoyed it."

He grinned back, and his tail swayed behind him. "I couldn't resist. Your playing was wonderful."

"And I quite enjoyed your dancing." Her own tail gave a wag behind her, swishing over her wrap.

"I've never heard of Galicia before. Where in Spain is it?"

She grinned at him. "Hardly anyone has! We are the España's northwest corner ." The dog looked him over. "And you? Where do you come from that they wear so very little?"

Phillippe coughed. "Canada."

"I have seen Canadians, but rarely so much of them."

"Weeellll, I'm a sled dog, and we run pretty hot, so the less clothing, the better."

She looked him over again. "Just so." She stuck out a paw. "Call me Sabela. It's a pleasure to meet you ..."

He took her paw and squeezed. Her grip was firm and controlled. "Phillippe."

"Phillippe. Lovely." She cocked her head and grinned. "I'd love to hear more about scantily-clad Canadian Sled Dogs. Care to take a walk?"

His tail wagged. No playing it cool for him. Not that he wanted to. "Very much so."

"Bo." She turned, "Xoán, could you take my pipes back to the tent?"

The dog who must have been Xoán grinned at her, but nodded. "Sí, señora. You'll owe me."

"I certainly shall." She turned to Phillippe. "Shall we?"

---

They slipped out of the main tent before the next act got started, leaving the light and close warmth behind for the pitch blackness and crisp cold of the night. The arch of the Milky Way stretched above them, and they stood for a moment, staring up at it.

"Fuck, I never get tired of seeing that," Phillippe remarked.

Sabela took advantage of his inattention to slip her paw into his, intertwining their fingers, and leaned against his arm. Her fur was soft, and she was still warm from the tent. "Mm, do you see it often?"

He stiffened briefly in surprise, then relaxed, leaning back into her just a little. "Whenever we remember to look up. Which, sometimes, you run a stretch, you make camp and eat and you pass out as quick as you can so you can get as much sleep as you can on your break." He grinned. "Once in a while, though, we can relax, or we'll just go out for a run and lay there and look up at the sky."

Sabela nodded. "That sounds wonderful."

He nodded at her. "It rivals this."

She snorted and nudged him in the hip with her free paw. "Flatterer. But very smooth."

He grinned at her for a moment. "Shall we take that walk?"

Sabela pulled her shawl higher up over her shoulders and then waved with her free paw. "Yes, do lead on."

---

They'd paused, and their conversation had fallen into a comfortable silence as they admire the night sky. Phillippe pointed out a constellation. "See those stars?"

Sabela followed his gesture. "Ahhh, I see some stars, yes."

He chuckled and gestured, tracing the shape of them. "Those?"

"Oh yes." She nodded.

He sighed. "They weren't out when we started, and they're about two hours into their night."

Sabela raised her eyebrows. "That's quite a skill."

Phillippe grinned at her. "Useful in our line of work; we looked at the charts as part of training for this trip." He sighed. "It's getting late and I have to get some sleep before our demo tomorrow."

Sabela stroked over his side, pulling her blunt claw tips through his fur. "When is it?"

"Eight. If we go much later it'll be almost too warm."

She shivered theatrically and pressed herself to his front. "Too warm? How can that be?"

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. She felt entirely too good against his body. "We are very warm dogs and we put out a lot of heat when we're working. When it gets warmer than a few degrees below freezing, we're just dying if we try to keep anything like a decent pace."

She shook her head and pressed herself close, her paws roaming through the fur over his sides and back. She felt very good against him, and he was sure she'd notice his body's reaction to that. "Ugh. I'll be bundled up."

Phillippe rubbed a paw along her back, sneaking under one of her layers of wrap to brush her fur. "Doesn't this keep you warm?"

"Not that warm, no. And I'll just be standing around."

"Alas. You'll have to find some way to keep warm." He grinned and nipped lightly at the tip of her ear.

She snorted. "I have a coat. It'll have to do, since you'll be busy."

"A shame, I know, but duty calls."

Sabela dragged her claws lightly over the small of his back, and Phillippe shuddered lightly in response. "Hauling heavy things for an audience in the cold? Makes no sense at all to me!"

He grinned and nipped her ear again. "Ah well. I suppose I can't be perfect."

She tipped her muzzle up to nip at his throat. "And I suppose I can accept this flaw for now." She huffed, blowing out her breath into his throat fur. "I should probably sleep, too. Walk me back?"

He took a step back and gave a half-bow. "But of course, m'lady."

She jabbed his side. "You aren't wearing the right hat for that."

He snorted and offered his arm. "Well, actually..." He let it trail off.

"I will leave you here!" She grumbled playfully, but took his arm and gestured with he free paw. "This way."

They walked together back through the tents, their light and warmth and noise spilling out through the flaps. When they arrived at the one she indicated, Phillippe faced her again, resting his paws on her hips. "When do you go on again?"

"Two nights from now, after dinner. Tomorrow is for practice and seeing some of the event. Be a shame to miss it." She grinned and brushed a paw through his belly fur. "How long is your demo?"

"If the weather is kind, all day. We'll start at eight and run until five or so, then clean up and get dinner."

"And then you're free?"

He grinned. "Yeah. Care to get dinner? My treat."

She snorted. "They're included you know."

The husky tipped his head up. "Hmph. Here I'm trying to be nice and you shoot me down!"

Sabela snorted and slipped a paw up to the back of his head and pulled his muzzle down for a kiss. It was warm, and long, and her tongue played gently at his lips. He parted them and their tongues met. Eventually, far too soon in his mind, they parted. "Dinner, be there." With that she patted his hip and then turned and disappeared into her tent.

Phillippe stood there, blinking and recovering his wits. Once he'd found them, his ears perked up and his tail wagged. He grinned and stepped off to find his team's tent.

When he stepped through the flap, Hella greeted him with an observation that bright eyes and a wagging tail weren't the only signs he'd had a good time. She patted the front of his loin cloth, and he realized he'd slipped quite a way out of his sheath. He hadn't even noticed the cold.

"Had a good time, eh?" She grinned and squeezed him through the cloth. "But not too good. This boy's still ready to go."

He coughed. "Yeah, well. Y'know, sometimes you don't just jump in bed with someone."

Hella nodded sagely. "For one, no beds out there." She grinned. "Did you want to do something about it, or just go to bed?"

Phillippe shrugged. "I think I'll just pass out. We have an early morning."

She gave his rump a pat and waved him in. "Fair enough. The rest of the team was just about winding down when I left. Except for Jane, of course. I'm not going to wait up for her."

Philippe grinned and shook his head. "I don't know how she does it."

Hella shrugged. "Neither do I, but she's always fine in the morning." She ruffled his lower back. "Well grab some shuteye, D, you're gonna be busy tomorrow."

---

The morning brought with it perfect weather -- they'd had a light snowfall overnight, giving them just a couple inches of light, powdery snow over otherwise well-packed trails, the sky was clear, and the temperature was crisply well-below freezing. For Phillippe and the rest of the team, it couldn't have been much better. For the folks attending and participating in the demonstration, their experience would probably vary based on how good their coats were, natural or otherwise.

Phillippe and the two wheel dogs, Charles and Tim, hauled the sled into the makeshift starting chute for their demo and started laying out the rigging while Hella and Jane led the rest of the team through some warmup cardio and stretching. It was good for their muscles, and the workout helped the team get their metabolisms going before they started racing. With their winter coats in, it kept them from getting cold before they were out on the trail. In Phillippe's experience, the audience at demos usually didn't mind watching a bunch of minimally-clad sled dogs working out in the snow, either. Phillippe had a windbreaker on, himself. As the driver, he still got plenty of a workout, but not quite as much as the dogs on the tow line.

The heavy work done, Charles and Tim took the harnesses from the kit in the sled and joined the rest of the team, leaving Phillippe to set up the sled and the rest of the rigging. As driver that typically fell to him, along with the rest of the event-day admin work. He had just finished talking with the marshal about the course for the day's demo schedule and the list of sled riders. It was one of Phillippe's favorite parts of sledding demonstrations, getting to take folks out and show them what it was like to be on the sled with nothing but the sound of his fellow dogs running quietly and the hiss of the sled through snow. It was such a change of pace from so much of the rest of the world.

They'd started the day early, taking their first riders out around eight, and ran nearly all day, with only a short break for lunch. The team didn't mind -- demos were fun, and they ran harder than that during races. Most riders sat in the basket, which was an easy choice, but a few of the more adventurous ones would stand on the runners with Phillippe. That was a lot more work on him, having to compensate for the way they reacted to the sled less skillfully, and sometimes flat out wrong, but the trail wasn't too challenging and everyone who did it was beaming afterwards.

They were prepping for their last run of the day when Sabela walked up. Phillippe grinned at her. "Hey there! Come to see us off?"

She shot her own grin back and shook her head. "Hardly! I'm here to ride."

"Oh well, we're prepping for our last run, let me check and see if they're ok with you coming along."

She snorted. "You haven't looked at the name yet, have you?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Is it you?"

She nodded.

"Oh! Well then, welcome aboard! How do you want to ride?"

She gave him a look he couldn't quite parse. "How long do you go for?"

Phillippe paused and cocked his head. He had a hint of parsing that look now. "I, err. Our run usually lasts half an hour."

"Can you go for longer?"

"Errr, let me check with the team." He raised his voice and projected towards the team, "You guys up for a longer run?"

There was a chorus of affirmative barks. Jane unhooked her tug line and walked over. "Oh yeah. Whatcha looking at?" She nodded at Sabela with a grin. "Oh-ho, looking to ride our boy longer?"

Sabela smirked, and Phillippe coughed. "I, errr. Wasn't there a fork we've been skipping? I thought I saw a longer loop on the map."

Jane wagged her tail and slapped his shoulder. "Yeah. If I recall correctly, we could about double our run. Trail's not prepared, and even if it was, it'd be a bit more technical. But that's fine, team's up for a challenge." She turned to Sabela. "You riding in the basket or standing?"

"I was thinking of standing."

Jane nodded. "Well, then be extra sure to follow Big D's lead here when we get into the dodgy bits." She leaned in conspiratorially, "Y'know, just push back and follow his hips."

Sabela flicked her ears back, but recovered herself quickly and grinned. "Oh, is that so? You tell all your riders that?"

"Just the cute ones." Jane smirked at them both. "Don't have too much fun! I need your mind on the trail. If the thing goes over 'cause you two distract each other, I'm not gonna stop the sled." With that, she made her way back to the front of the team, having a short conference with each pair of dogs on the line. Hella shot Phillippe and Sabela a smirk over her shoulder.

Sabela shook her head. "So uh... I guess I'll take it standing up."

Phillippe coughed, and she poked him in the belly. "Hey now keep your mind out of the gutter. For now." She winked and turned to the sled. "So, what do I have to do?"

Sabela was a sharp listener, and it didn't take her long to get the feel for riding the sled. She stood in front of him on the runners, with her paws on the bar, just inside his. When they turned a corner or cleared a bump, they'd jostle into each other, and Phillippe was very aware of just how little his loin cloth covered and just how good it felt when he bumped into her or she pressed back into him, which he thought she did quite a bit more than she strictly had to. Not that he complained.

The team chatted as they ran, familiar with the trail and not needing to think about it too much. Phillippe and Sabela mostly passed the time observing the landscape as it slipped past, pointing out a nice view or an interesting structure or terrain feature before it slipped by. Once they hit the alternate trail, they fell into silence, the team switching smartly to the serious business of breaking unfamiliar trail, while Phillippe focused on driving the sled and Sabela on reading his movements. She was very good at it, and Phillippe found he enjoyed that at least as much as the physical aspect of having her pressed against him. He couldn't think of very many better ways to spend time.

---

Phillippe and Sabela sat with the team at dinner, but the other dogs gave them some space, chatting with each other about the trail, the weather, and whatever else came to mind. They seemed to be making a conscious effort to let Phillippe and Sabela have more opportunity to chat with each other, while not leaving them out entirely. Phillippe appreciated it. Sabela, for her part, seemed to be enjoying the way the conversations flowed in and out of one another.

Every other other member of the team seemed to feel it necessary to make meaningful eye contact with Phillippe at some point during the meal, usually accompanied by a smirk and playfully-perked ears, but if Sabela noticed, she didn't comment on it. Phillippe suspected that she was perfectly aware of it -- the team wasn't that subtle.

They were taking a walk outside after dinner, paw in paw, when she confirmed it.

"So..." she began.

"Mmm?" Phillippe's tail swayed slowly behind him; a good day on the sled, a good meal, and of course, Sabela's company had him feeling gently awash in contentment.

Sabela's tail bumped into his from time to time, so she seemed to be fairly content, as well. "So. I get the impression your teammates are expecting you to show me how you Canadian sled dogs keep warm on cold nights."

Phillippe stopped short and coughed, his ears flicking back against his head. "Oh ahhh, errr..."

She took a step to stand in front of him, her paw still clasping his, and cocked her head at him with an innocent expression. "Whatever could they mean by that, do you think?"

He stopped, took a breath, and gave her an intensely skeptical look. "I think you know."

She shook her head, but a smirk started to slip into her expression. "I'm sure I don't! Please tell me, how do you keep warm at night? Fire?"

Phillippe took a deep breath, then sighed, rolling his eyes. "Uh-huh. Sure." He took her other paw in his and squeezed, then said. "It's sex. They're talking about sex."

She gave a mock gasp, but the way her tail wagged behind her gave her away. "Goodness! I had no idea!" She snorted, finally giving up the act.

Phillippe sighed again. "I'm sure you didn't."

She pulled herself close by his paws and then slipped her fingers out of his to run them lightly over the top of his chest. "So, when you're out on the trail, do you?"

He shrugged a bit, his own paws finding her hips and resting there lightly. She was pleasantly close, and her fur smelled of the mingled food and bodies from the dinner tent, warm and comfortable smells. "Sometimes. Not usually mid-race."

She ran a paw up to lightly brush over his neck, fingers slipping through the fur. "Is that common?"

"Sex in a team? Oh pretty common. We have a lot of, mmm, energy and spend a lot of time together. Most teams have something going on."

"So like, you and Jane?"

He grinned. "Sometimes! Most of us aren't very formal about it."

"Most?"

"Oh well, Charles and Tim are a couple. But they aren't exclusive to each other, either." He shrugged. "It's just sort of the way?"

She nodded. Her fingers trailed through his fur, slipping up the back of his neck to rub the base of one of his ears. Phillippe couldn't help but wag his tail and let out a soft rumble of approval.

"So you're free to, say, show a piper how you stay warm?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Oh very!"

"And you'd like that?" She rubbed the tip of his ear between her fingers. Phillippe got the impression she had a good idea of what is answer would be.

He growled quietly and pulled her hips against his. They were of similar height, and that meant his sheath was pressing firmly into her pelvis. "Very much so."

She grinned at him and licked his chin. "So...my place or yours, hot stuff?"

"Uhh, well. Speaking of how we keep warm, we kinda just pile into one tent..." His ears flicked a bit. "So if you want to put on a bit of a show, maybe?"

She snorted. "I want you all to myself tonight."

"Tonight?" He wagged his tail.

"After that we'll see!" She nipped his chin this time, then paused, looking thoughtful. "Mmm, so it's just a big pile of naked, horny sled dogs?"

He coughed. "Yeah, mostly."

She let out a little growl. "Sounds fun."

"Can be." He slid a paw up, tracing the curve of her side through her clothes. "So...what about your place?"

She nodded. "My band and I have a sort of suite set up. I have my own sleeping area."

"Mmm, and we won't be sharing too much?" He wagged his tail hopefully.

She shrugged. "Well, they'll probably know what we're up to, but that's just how it is for all of us." She took a short step back so she could look him up and down. "Mmm, they might be a little jealous in the morning, though."

He grinned and waved vaguely in the direction of his team's tent. "Well there's a whole tent full of us if they want."

Sabela took his paw again and tugged him towards her tent. "Come on then, night's not getting any younger!"

Phillippe grinned and trotted after her, admiring the way she moved and how her white fur contrasted with the mixed, warm colors of her clothes. Especially the way her tail swayed over her rump when she walked. And how her rump moved, come to think of it.

It was a short drag to their destination, where she ducked into the tent, calling out in a language he didn't understand. Nobody replied. "Oh, that's convenient," she observed as he followed her in. The tent's common area was small compared to his team's, but then, they didn't have any private rooms. The area around the periphery was a jumble of instrument cases and stools.

He gestured at them. "Jam tent?"

She nodded. "Of course!" Then she tugged on his paw and led led him towards a set of curtains at the far side. "But later, maybe, mmm? We have our own music to make."

He growled his approval and followed her into the next room. It wasn't terribly large, but it housed a bed that looked comfortable for two, a couple more instrument cases, and a couple pieces of luggage, rather like a small hotel room.

She turned to face him and gestured at the room. "My humble abode for the duration."

He smiled at her, wagging his tail. "Very nice. Cozy!"

Sabela nodded. "Mmhm. And a bit private." She reached past him to pull a second layer of fabric over the space's entrance. "That's better." The white dog stepped back and looked at him, then herself. "You know, I'm starting to feel over-dressed."

Phillippe grinned. "You know, now that we're somewhere warm, I think you might be." He rested a paw on her hip. "Can I help you with that?"

Sabela's eyes flashed and her ears twitched, perked. "You certainly can."

He looked her over appreciatively. She was wearing a whole lot more clothes than he usually did, and there were layers. "So uh, where do I start?"

She turned away from him, then backed up so her rump pressed against his loincloth. She found his paws and guided them over her front to a knot of fabric at her waist. "Start here."

He tucked his muzzle along side hers and looked down. "With the knot? Usually I work up to that."

"Giving or receiving?" she quipped back.

"Both!" He bucked his hips lightly. "But giving tonight, I think."

She chuckled, pressing back into him. "Oh, you don't know what's in my luggage."

He growled quietly as he undid the knot and a sash of fabric fell from her waist. "Oh my."

Sabela guided him to a series of toggles that seemed to keep her jacket closed. "Tomorrow night maybe." She practically growled her next statement, "Tonight I want you inside me."

Philipe could only offer his own growl in response, and he pressed his paws firmly into hers and ground into her rump. His loincloth did nothing to hide the swelling of his sheath or the way his cock was starting to slip from it. He couldn't wait to get her out of her clothes, and it seemed she felt the same way. Her jacket fell to the floor, and her shirt joined it, and then her skirt fell in a puddle to the floor, and all the while their hips parted to let the garments fall, then rejoined forcefully, as though they were drawn together, or perhaps that they couldn't bear to be apart. Sabela arched her back and moaned softly each reunion of their hips, and Phillippe buried his muzzle in her neck, nibbling through her white fur and growling quietly.

When she was down to her panties, Phillippe ran his paw over her mound, splaying his fingers over the dark fabric, admiring the contrast with the stark white of her fur. "Now we just about match," he murmured in her ear.

She let out a soft bark of amusement and reached back to rub along his scruff. She rolled her hips, pressing forward into his paw and then back into his groin. "Yes, but we're still overdressed." The white-furred bitch took a step away from Phillippe and turned, grinning at him, her tail wagging behind her and her paws resting on her hips. "I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours, mm?"

Phillippe's tongue lolled out of his muzzle, his paws finding the ties of his loincloth and undoing them as he admired her nearly-nude form. Her fur was about the same length as his, but she didn't have the double coat he did. She also had curves he didn't, which, he reflected, was rather to be expected. She looked solid -- not stocky or wiry or thin or soft, just solid, like she used her muscles on a regular basis, but didn't go to a gym to do it. For his part, Phillippe knew he was, like most sled dogs, rather toned, and from her expression, he figured she was not disappointed with what she saw when his cloth fell away and he stood nude before her. Of course, it wasn't like he'd had much left to show.

Sabela grinned and bent down to shuck her panties. "Mmmmm. Good." She took a couple steps back and sat on her bed, then shifted back on the bed, making room for him as she reclined. "Coming," she asked?

He snorted and closed the distance, crawling up next to her and running a paw through the fur of her belly and the pleasant softness under her pelt, then up to cup one of her breasts, enjoying the way it felt in his paw, not quite filling it. "Soon, I think."

Sabela arched her back up into his touch and snorted. "You and me both, dog." She reached out a paw and brushed it over his sheath, then higher, trailing her soft, leather-padded fingertips over the exposed tip of his shaft. "Let's put this gent to work, yes?"

Phillippe found himself panting at her touch, and his paw on her breast tensed briefly. He shifted and, with a bit of unavoidable awkwardness, shuffled legs until he was kneeling between her thighs. Sabela's paw found his neck again, and she growled lustily up at him. He braced a paw next to her and wrapped his other around his length, guiding himself as he eased his hips forward. Her folds were puffy and warm and welcoming and as, he eased himself inside, her walls were hot and slick around him. He grip on his scruff curled tighter and she let out a moan. Phillippe let out one of his own as he pressed forward until he was hilted in her heat.

He lowered his muzzle to lick at her lips and gasp out, "Oh fuck, you feel good."

She arched her hips, pressing them more firmly to his, making him slip a hint deeper. "So do you." She gripped her sheets in her free paw and lifted her legs to wrap lightly around his hips, giving herself some leverage but not restricting him too much. "Come on, Big D," and here she lost her composure and snorted amusement, "fuck me."

Phillippe grinned -- it really was ridiculous. He kissed her and rolled his hips, his cock slipping back and then back up to the hilt again. She shuddered a little. He did it again, a little faster, working himself up to a brisk rhythm. The day's runs had left him plenty charged up, even before Sabela had ridden in front of him, or taken him back to her place. He buried his muzzle in the fur of her throat, nibbling as he thrust. She seemed to enjoy that, because she arched her back and moaned, pressing up into him, her hips rising up off the bed as she flexed her legs.

He felt a paw slip between them, and then her grip on his scruff tightened and she gasped. "Harder," she panted, "Fuck! Tie me, Phillippe!" She clenched her sex around his length, adding urgency to her words.

Phillippe wasted no time, bucking his hips hard and fast. He lowered himself to his elbows and slipped his forearms under her back, curling his paws to grip her shoulders. The dog used the leverage to thrust as hard and fast as he could, panting into his white-furred lover's throat. She was growling and panting as he rutted.

His knot swelled rapidly, catching at her entrance a few times before it stuck, tying him inside her. Phillippe growled and shuddered, his entire body tensing, just his hips moving through a few short, sharp bucks until he came. His cock throbbed and jerked inside her, and he moaned into her ear with his release. "Oohhhhhhhh, fuck!"

Sabela's paw was moving faster between them, and her legs gripped his hips tightly when he tied her. She seemed to pull herself up to his body as he came inside her, and she tipped her muzzle back into the bed as she found her own release just a little after him.

The two dogs lay together for some time, panting as they came down from their peaks. Phillippe's knot tugged at Sabela's sex with each movement, and both of them twitched at the sudden jolts their movements sent through them. Phillippe relaxed his grip on Sabela's shoulders and licked at her cheek. He ground his hips slowly into hers, length still twitching inside her, the smooth, slow motion giving him a lush, warm feeling instead of a hard jolt. She kept her paw between them, but her movements slowed, moving in a similarly languid manner. She relaxed her grip on his scruff and settled into petting slowly over the back of his neck.

Sabela smiled up at him and licked his chin. "Goodness."

Phillippe grinned down and kissed her again. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah." She trailed a paw down his neck and along his back, blunt claws tracing through his thick fur. "You know, I think I might like you, Big D."

Phillippe groaned at the comment, "That nickname. Ugh."

She snorted again, but licked his cheek. "Mmm, I dunno, I think it tells the truth where it counts." She bucked her hips, in case he'd missed the point.

"Flatterer." He nipped her throat lightly. "It'll get you everywhere."

"Even into your pants?" Sabela shot back.

"I don't wear pants if I can avoid it."

"I noticed." She dragged her claws lightly up his back, leaving furrows in his fur. "It's a good look on you."

"So," he pushed himself up on his paws so he could grin down at her. "What are you doing the rest of the night?"

"You, I hope." Her paw slid back down to squeeze his rump. He flexed it in response. "What are you doing the rest of the conference?" she asked.

"Demos all day, cute piper dogs all night, I hope." He bucked his hips pointedly.

She nipped his chin. "Oh yeah? You know some other ones?"

"Not yet, but there's still a few days left."

"And what if I monopolized your time so you couldn't look for any other piper bitches?" She growled playfully at him.

He grinned again, then lowered himself back down and nuzzled her ear. "That'd be pretty good, too."

Sabela ran a paw lightly along his back, while her other rubbed his ear. "Sounds like a plan."