The Architect
The Architect
Haley had finally relaxed. He was a rarity, even among the world of furs: a platypus. From far away, he was a smallish bear: short with thick, chocolate brown fur from head to toe. Even if they overlooked the knee-lenght tail or longish feet, they were always startled when he turned around, revealing the iron grey bill he had instead of a the short muzzle they expected. Having been the object of surprise as a matter of course embedded a very tragic lesson within Haley: most people won't like you for what you are.
He had successfully engrossed himself in his next model for almost an hour, to calm his nerves and forget about his dinner date. But all that changed when the knock on his door came. The student of architecture nearly let gravity wreck his model as his hands started shaking.
"Coming!" he shouted, hurring over to the sink and washing the glue off his hands.
He knew, by the sound of the knock, it was someone who claimed to like him quite a bit. Thomas was an amusing grey wolf, a mathematician as far as Haley knew, with a toothy grin and a boyish charm -- despite being two years Haley's senior. They first met in one of his mathematics classes two weeks ago, and totally to Haley's surprise, the wolf just suddenly asked him to have dinner a week later. Subconsciously determined to find someone who would break the rule he learned, he said yes before he even thought about it.
It was a decision he was now starting to regret. It was not the first date Haley had been on, and he predicted it would probably go in a manner similar to the others: his uniqueness would be the cause of the infatuation, and his companion merely having an opposite reaction to it that most others did. But when they actually got to talking, all of his character flaws would come out, and that would be the end of it.
All he tried to think about was where he kept his baseball statistics. Before he opened the door, he took a moment to reorganize the rooms in his head so he could run quickly to what information he expected to need in a difficult, boisterous conversation about anything. Baseball, a sport of a few hundred diehards, was a reasonable cover for shallow conversations. It was an excellent topic for him to appear expert in, for it was strange enough to be worthy of conversation, and rare enough his ignorance would not be revealed.
After drying his hands -- almost enough to rip the towel in two -- he walked over to the door, took a deep breath, sniffed to clear his nasal slits, and opened it with his best smile of pleasant expectation. Sure enough, there was Thomas, all six feet of him.
Haley's blue eyes raised their gaze to meet the brown ones that now studied him.
"Ready to go?" asked the wolf with a playful heir and a wide smile.
"Where to?" Haley asked in as joval a manner as he could to match it.
"I was thinking Myrah's."
Haley raised his eyebrows for effect. "That's pretty expensive," he remarked. He was glad to have worn more dressy clothes than a T-shirt and jeans.
"Yeah, I know," replied the wolf casually, "but don't worry about it."
They walked out of the building, down the street for the ten blocks to leave the University dorms. It was a typical spring day for their lattitude: sunny, and just a touch of wind which rustled the taller of the buildings and the trees. The platypus let Thomas lead so he could put his feet on autopilot and study the familiar buildings which made up most of the scenery.
He drew invisible diagrams of where the supports, wires, and arches must be for the top of the main campus; he saw the radio rods continuing down into the ground to acheive their unwaivering height; he imagined the lighting of skylights, and pondered the effect that a large glass dome might have on the main hallway. It was his gift, and why he thought he was born to be an architect.
But all of these comfortable musings were interrupted by the wolf's ever-so-common desire for conversation.
"You're not thinking about school, are you?" he asked with a wry smirk.
"Oh, no," blurted Haley, struggling to come up with an explaination, "I was just -- how many professors do you think are stuck in there this weekend?"
"Oh who cares about them," laughed Thomas, "They deserve it for assigning all that stuff! I hope every one of those papers in in Longtooth's office has to be graded!"
Haley smiled, thinking of the tornado of documents covering the entire floor of that office -- and chose not to mention he had completed Longtooth's assignment in half an hour the same day.
The next time he dared draw upon his spatial gift was when he walked through the glass doors of Myrah's. The general idea behind the decore was to take the subject out of the urban enviornment which he lived, and draw him instead to a different part of the world, where everything was more rugged -- which is how those people wanted it.
Large support beams which held up the twelve foot ceiling were wood; the large pedistal at the front door where guests were escorted to tables was carefully carved maple, and most notably, the floors and benches themselves were hard oak. The inside was rather roomy, with a twelve foot ceiling, sloping downward barely to eleven feet to give the feel of a wooden building.
A female rabbit escorted them to a table near the eleven-foot end, opposite one of the large glass windows in front. Haley thought such a large piece of glass broke the decore, but was somewhat more disconcerted by what his eye was telling him about that sloping ceiling. He didn't feel he could say anything, because his spatial sense was not a subject of discussion with this wolf, but he was certain that one of the boards was slightly canted at an angle indicating it was loose.
When they settled in, the two of them silently agreed to sit on opposite sides of their bench seats. Haley made sure to avoid the legs of the tall wolf interfering with his wide feet -- feet which had been stretched by the geneticists to human size, but retained the general shape and toe-webbing of his ancestors.
The menu, as Haley skimmed, was primarily meat, to which he had no objections. He silently chose one of the less complicated forms of fish, and pondered that the dozens of meats shown here couldn't all possibly be in the more primitive part of the world they were trying to suggest. It was another idea not worthy of comment to either the wolf or the waitress.
Only after they ordered did Haley receieve his first question from the wolf. "So, what have you been up to lately?"
It was one of those questions which Haley hated, for it was impossible to tell what information the asker was looking for, if any at all. But he gave his prepared answer without thinking too much. "I do a lot of modeling, usually. I can see one or two ways this place could use some improvement, for instance," he added with a smile.
"Oh?" Thomas said, returning that smile.
"Well, for a start," he said, "the wood paneling is obviously fake. They could do a better job of that if they built it into the actual design of the building, instead of just hanging it there later." But focusing on that made it more work for him to ignore the fact that the end of that loose board was right above their table.
"And why did they put round tables in the middle of this room instead of more booths? Watch how the waiters have to walk around and around in circles to get to the kitchen." He saw Thomas watching behind them, and a smile of recognition flashed his face, and his ears perked up.
"You see?" asked Haley, without looking at what Thomas was looking at.
"Oh, I just thought I saw a friend of mine, sorry. Waitresses walking around the tables?" he asked.
Haley's smile faded immediately. Being ignored momentarily by the wolf in such a way made him wonder how things were going.
"Yeah," he continued, feeling forced, "just watch the waitresses for a while, see how they have to walk around those tables all the time."
This time, Thomas watched, for far longer. "How about that?" he remarked with a hint of a smile, "Anything else?"
Thomas' blue eyes returned straight to those of the platpyus, and his muzzle and ears now showed genuine interest. This made Haley somewhat confused, but did have the effect of soothing his irritation. Like all the others before who had shown real affection towards him, it was something Haley had some trouble dealing with, being so used to an opposite response.
Without really thinking, he looked up, as if he had just noticed it, and added, "We should probably move to another table. I don't like how that board looks."
Thomas' eyes followed Haley's, but were blank. "I don't see anything," he remarked.
But Haley's instincts had seldom failed him. "It's slightly, slightly unglued compared to the one next to it. You have to be at the right angle to see it," he gingerly insisted.
But Thomas seemed unconvinced. "If you say so," was all he said.
Having his instincts ignored was another bad sign, in Haley's view. He tried to reassure himself that it was, in fact, quite difficult to see, and if not forget about it, resume ignoring it.
He was soon aided by the fact that their food came promptly, creating another useful break in their conversation. Haley found his eyes drawn not to his fish, but instead to Thomas. He had ordered a rather large slab of pork, and sank his teeth right into it.
The platypus was strangely entranced, just watching him bite savegly, chew fairly quickly, and swallow. Rather like buildings, he could imagine the bones and muscles at work beneath, and when he was between bites of tasting his own food, got enough vicarious pleasure out of their powerful workings to rival his own.
But like his former musings, they were interrupted. Half way through the steak, the wolf seemed to lose his concentration on eating, and return to conversation, taking another bite only occasionally. "So, what do you do besides architecture?" he asked.
It was another question to which the truthful answer, "next to nothing," would not work; it was time for baseball. "Believe it or not," he began with a smile, heart racing as he tried to focus on the right information, "I do watch a good game of baseball once in a while."
"It seems rather foolish, to me," Thomas casually remarked.
"What's wrong with it?" he asked jovially. Unlike architecture, which was his gift, baseball was not close to Haley's heart. Ironically, this made him feel less uncomfortable trying to change Thomas' opinion on the subject.
"I just never saw the point of running around and touching a bunch of sandbags," teased Thomas, obviously trying to get Haley to react.
"It's not about the rules," explained Haley, as he had once been explained to him, "it's about luck, watching the game unfold. The difference between a strike out and a grand slam is a few feet and seconds. Harold Hanes has an average of .390 because of who he is, but also because of how things play out."
"I know all that," replied Thomas casually, "I used to crunch the numbers for Coldwell."
Haley took a big drink of his water to hide his surprise; Coldwell was the organizer of human sports at the University.
"Really?" asked Haley, feeling rather suddenly outgunned with his small list of figures.
"Yeah. He wanted me to tell him what the humans saw in it; what all their statistics were trying to tell them. So, I looked at all the old record books, and you know what they told me? Nothing. Just a bunch of numbers. Baseball, the best I can tell, was nothing but a racket. They made more money than anybody getting fans to attend games and buy things. That was it."
Thomas' eyes were sharp and piercing. Haley decided this was the end; he had placed a bad bet, and there was nowhere to go from here -- except one place.
"I'll be back in a second," was the next thing he said, gulping down his water, and heading to the restroom. Thomas watched him all the way to the door -- he could feel the wolf's eyes on the back of his neck, and the platypus sighed in relief when the thick door swing behind him and blocked his view.
Glad the bathroom was empty, he just washed his hands, and stared at himself in the mirror. The grey bill seemed to be frowning, though its curve had no more downward slant than when he smiled. He just wanted refuge from the outside world. He wanted to stay behind the heavy door in the private, tiled room forever, and forget about the date that was going wrong.
But before he could enjoy the idea too much, there was a commotion on the other side of the door. He swung it back open, and immediately saw Thomas standing away from their table, along with half a dozen spectators, as a rather tall weasel better dressed than any of them came forward.
"I'm so sorry," he begged Thomas, "I'll call someone right away."
"You do that," snarled the tall wolf.
Haley walked over to Thomas and the crowd. Following the pack of eyes, the source of the commotion was evident: his prediction about the board was correct. One end of it was now hanging loose a foot below the rest of the ceiling, revealing a ripped paper-mache overhang to which it had been quite flimsily attached. Their food was now covered with a light coating of dust
"Let's get out of here," growled Thomas, "I'm sure they won't make us pay."
Without time to process anything that would have changed his mood, Haley let himself be rushed out the front door and into the street. "I'm sorry," he apologized, from habit not reason.
"Sorry? You were clarivoyant about that board! How did you do that?"
Such admiration was suck a shock, Haley blushed. "I just have a knack for architecture," he modestly replied, feeling suddenly quite self-conscious.
"More like a gift," complimented Thomas, seeming to still be catching his breath from the terrible shock, "you're amazing."
Despite this positive turn, however, Haley still felt this was the end of their date, and so felt he should at least end their previous conversation. "By the way," he added nervously, "I lied about baseball."
Thomas seemed more surprised than angry. His eyes softened, filled with genuine emotion. "Why?" he asked gently.
"It's just something I can talk about better than architecture," admitted Haley, "I am not very good dealing with others, and I was worried architecture would be too boring."
Thomas smiled. "It'd be hard for you to bore me with anything, Haley," he reassured, patting him on the shoulder affectionately, "I just wanted to learn about you. I pegged you for one of those smart, quiet guys who can really dig into something, and I just wanted to hear you talk."
Haley was now fully blushing under his fur. "I guess that was pretty silly of me, wasn't it?" he asked, feeling not only guilt and stupidity, but soft relief in being exposed.
"Silly would be letting that ruin our date," suggested the wolf, "and not showing me what your place looks like."
"My place?" repeated the platypus dumbly. Given his prediction of how his date would go, he had never considered the possibility of having his companion return to his dorm.
"Unless you'd rather see mine. I want to get to know you better, Haley."
The request seemed so gentle and genuine -- so out of line with what Haley normally put up with -- he felt unable to refuse. Something in the back of his mind clung to the romantic notions unfolding before him, even though his instincts made him suspicious.
His instincts lost. "Alright, let's go," he suggested, starting to walk that way with a racing heart.
Instead of the buildings they went past, his mind was full of what he would have to straighten up for his new visitor. It was a long list, for since he did little else but build models, he had hundreds of them everywhere. He did his best to make a list, based on how his apartment looked, and as as he put his key in the lock, tried to get a reprieve.
"Will you give me a minute to clean up some stuff?" he asked.
"Sure," calmly replied Thomas. Haley slid inside, closing the door as close to his body as possible, and started with the hall.
Cleaning up intricate models was a process he found much more difficult than hiding dirty laundry. Wood was not the strongest material for building intricate structures -- especially to scale, when the thickness was mostly shaved off -- and so moving each one required almost a minute.
Under time pressure from being rude to his guest, he moved only those he could afford to in the order of what was most precious to him. All ended up either in the bedroom, the bathroom closet -- whose former contents he dumeped into the bedroom -- or out of sight atop a bookcase in the living room he could barely reach.
Deciding that he would have to show off the remaining several dozen items, he let the wolf into his quite small apartment. "This is it," he gestured nervously, leading Thomas toward the living room instead of the bedroom which was on the opposite side of a split in the entryway.
"Like I said," remarked the wolf quietly, eyes wandering around in awe, "you have a gift, Haley."
"My mother used to tell me that," he remarked, trying to force himself to open up a little bit over the protestations of his throbbing heart.
"Did -- of course you built all these, didn't you?" Thomas wandered around, examining the pieces Haley had left out, a joy of discovery in his eyes Haley had seldom seen -- and never caused.
The first he chose to examine in detail was a large, skylit foyer. The wolf chuckled, "didn't like the campus great room, eh?"
"They could cut their lighting costs in half this way," Haley replied with a smile.
But few others were worthy of comment. Before too long, to Haley's dismay, the additional height of his legs brought the eyes of Thomas onto the top of his bookshelf.
"Now what's --"
"Don't touch that!" snapped Haley.
"Okay," replied the wolf, backing away with an heir of respect, "but what is it?"
"It's a fountain. No moving parts. Capilary action."
"Wow. I'd really like to see it," asked Thomas, his eyes melting as he looked at Haley. The way he silently begged him, in fact, seemed to Haley like more than just a desire to see the model; but a desire for something deeper.
He was certain Thomas could sense that this model's deep connection; but didn't know how embarassing it would be to reveal its purpose. After all, it touched on a peculiarly personal aspect of his design sense. But the part of Haley which wanted to reveal himself won out over the part that wanted to protect him.
"Alright, but be gentle with it!" he snapped, the protective part lashing out in frustration.
Thomas took it down slowly, careful to use the large base for support, and not to tangle up the cord, and found it heavier than he expected. Haley found his voice starting to rise. The mere touching of the model by the wolf made the vying emotions of fear and self-expression each yank harder at him to gain control of his spirit.
Eventually, Thomas put it awkwardly on the dining table, and better stuided its intricate form. The two-and-a-half-foot square was what Haley considered the prize in his collection. Unlike most of his models which were cheap plywood, this was made of aluminum. He'd had the pieces machined from scrap by a former engineering professor, at noteworthy expense, so that he could have the design which he held closest to his heart realized.
The room without a ceiling was a completely cohesive frame about nine inches high. The capilary action of the main statue was used to move water along thin channels in where the ceiling would be, following a split hallway to half a dozen walled stalls. At the back of each was a slit, and in the center of each an unprotected drain.
"Of course, this scale won't do capilary action," Haley said for no reason, "it has a small pump."
The wolf put it down on the table, and plugged it in. Sure enough, the tiny pump inside the statue began to softy buzz.
"You need water," added Haley nervously, legs dragging him to the kitchen, and arms filling a sauce pot half full.
Still scared of what the wolf would think, he carried it back into the living room, and gently poured it over the room's floor. Immediately, it ran down the drains, beneath the floor to a central resivoir, and the pump's buzz tured to a hum. It drew the water from below, fed the channels, and the water flattened into a thin sheet on the back of each stall. From there, it pooled in an invisibly-sloped quarter of the room, overflowed into the drain, and started the cycle again.
Looking with nervous pride at Thomas, he was silently ecstatic to see the wolf staring entranced.
"Amazing," Thomas murmured after his eyes had followed an invisible drop of water on its cycle several times, "is it a shower?"
"Bathroom, actually," Haley answered, feeling he could trust the wolf with this information, "the first ever egalitarian bathroom."
"Egalitarian, huh? So where do you pee?" he asked glibly, not changing his gaze. "The entire back wall," replied Haley, considering this his innovation. "No flushing, no cleaning, and no moving parts to break down." But Thomas said nothing when his eyes turned back to meet Haley's. Their gaze remained soft, and of awe, a feeling which both thrilled and unnerved the platypus.
"I really think it's stupid," Haley continued, feeling the need to explain himself, "that nobody designs good bathrooms. Every bathroom I have ever seen has all the sinks together, stalls either opposite or besides them, and males get urinals just because of their -- equipment," he hesitated. His body beginning to react to thoughts of what the "equipment" of Thomas might look like.
"But with my design, even a female can stand up and not miss. It's the end of the last vestige of discrimmm--"
Thomas had gently sealed his bill. Heart racing, Haley knew what was about to happen next. Seeing if he could get control of the situation, he reached out himself, and tried to pull Thomas' muzzle down toward him. He was rewarded with a swift dip of Thomas' neck, and the moment their heads were close enough, a savage licking of his face with a series of hot breaths and husky growls.
Haley's own breathing jumped up at the touch of the warm, wet tongue against his cheek, and knowing that he was unable to kiss for his bill, tried to return the favor. But Thomas was too fast, not even letting Haley's bill more than brush his nose. He kept rolling his head in new and creative directions, sliding his tongue first over Haley's cheeks, then neck, even up to his forehead, never in the same pattern twice.
It was so incredibly arousing to have Thomas stroking him so that he wanted to keep going. "Undress me," he moaned, reaching himself for the top of Thomas' shirt collar.
He only managed to get one button undone before the wolf's strong arms pulled up Haley's shirt, and his arms were willingly dragged from their grasp, and through his own short sleeves. Before he could even open his eyes, which has reflexively closed when the collar went by, the hands of Thomas began sliding their fingers through Haley's chest fur.
"This isn't fair," protested the platypus with an affectionate laugh, his eyes returning to those of the wolf once the shirt had fallen to the floor.
Thomas grinned mischeviously, his eyes twinkling in the overhead light. "You told me to undress you, love," he growled, "and that's just, what, I'm, doing!" He pulled his head out of the way of Haley's attempts at touching with his bill several times as he spoke the words, making the platypus even more frustrated -- and more aroused.
As Haley was about to try and grab hold of the illusive neck once and for all by starting with Thomas' collar once again, the wolf suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, and shoved him down on the couch. Haley fell backwards, quite scared momentarily before he landed and his sense of gravity returned to him.
Deciding it was too hard to fight, he let Thomas continue, eyes burning with lust; and, now that there was no shame in looking, a tent in his long pants. Before Haley could even think about reaching for the zipper, however, he was assaulted again, this time by the large, smooth palms going to work on his dress pants. He hoped he knew what was coming, as his cock hardened fully, and stood straight up when the zipper and button were undone.
The embarassment of having his penis seen by someone but him faded in a flash. Thomas, without pause, bent down over the couch, and wrapped his muzzle around it. All of the racing thoughts in Haley's head about failure, about long-term relationships, even about protecting himself, vanished. The only thing important to him was the wolf, and the sensation rippling through his nervous system from that wonderful tongue and muzzle.
The tongue painted his phallus with sensation, as the soft flesh surrounding him stroked his entire length at once. All Haley could do was moan, pant, and beg for more by pulling the wolf's head down onto his cock; a request which was eagerly, repeatedly, and lustily granted. Having so seldom experienced these feelings, except through his own hand, the presence and affections of the wolf made it impossible to resist for long. He came hard with a drawn-out groan, pumping his seed to be lapped up by Thomas' expectant tongue.
Once the wave of pleasure had passed, and it felt like his muscules had pumped his balls dry, Haley hazily now pushed against the very head with which he was so enamoured. All of his energy seemed to have been sucked right from him, but his enjoyment of this fact was changed when he looked happily into Thomas' eyes. Now more than ever, they were sharp and intense, in spite of the gentle smile he wore.
"Now," he huskily announced, licking a string of semen from his tooth, "it's my turn."
A small drip of guilt fell into the sea of Haley's well-being. "Anything," he mumbled, wishing to express his benevolence, and so dissolve it.
"Haley," panted the wolf, hands now changing from handling his cock to stroking his thighs and tail, "I want to fuck you."
The suggestion created a stone drop into the pond of his awareness; the idea scared him, but his afterglow slowed the penetration of any other emotion into his psyche. "Okay," he sighed, letting himself be handled, the idea abstract to him, or happening to someone else.
The hands nearby his legs now began to focus on his short, furry tail and buttocks. Having Thomas touch him was lovely, like a massage in its sensory qualities, and it didn't seem real that his insides were going to be invaded. It didn't, at least, until one of those very digits was dampened with a lick and pressed gently into Haley's tailhole.
The sensation, beyond any physical feeling of touch, triggered emotions strong enough to severely damage his former complacancy. "Oh," Haley winced, reacting to the sensation beyond his control, "uhh --"
"You okay?" panted Thomas, voice and body aroused, but eyes having softened dramatically.
"Okay," Haley groaned, breathing returning to its rapid pace. His brain seemed unable to either accept or deny what was happening to him, and had decided it would get the sensations it would get.
"Just tell me if you want me to stop," whispered Thomas, as Haley heard the sound of pants dropping to the floor.
The body of the platyus seemed to know what was coming; he was afraid enough to grip the arm of the couch which had appeared in before him when the wolf flipped him to his stomach. It was only as the hands continued to rub his buttocks that his mind began to realize what it was about to feel, and his erection began to return.
"Oh, Thomas," Haley grunted, fear beginning to get control at last. But he didn't finish his sentence; he felt he owed the wolf, and had to do it.
"Be gentle, please," he panted weakly, his breathing shallow and fast.
"Always," whispered the wolf.
After some preparation Haley did not bother to try and observe, the finger reappeared momentarily at his tailhole, making Haley move his tail out of the way in counter to his instincts. As he tensed, however, Thomas took another opportunity to rub his back and thighs.
"Just relax, hon," he whispered, his head moving to behind Haley as a pair of legs landedg on either side of his body. The gentle strokes did make Haley relax; it was a reminder to whom he was entrusting his insides: the one to whom he would willingly give everything he had in a heartbeat. And as those heart beats continued to come to him quickly, one more stroke of his hands ran from his thights, to his neck, and Thomas' cock made its apparance.
The moment his sensitive ring of furless flesh was touched, Haley grabbed the pillow, muffled a whimper, and he hunched up on his knees to ease the entry. The slick worm went in, and in, and in, almost longer than Haley could stand before it began retraction. Haley whined and whimpered, keeping his reflexive desires to escape or expel in check, as the withdrawl then stopped and reversed itself. Ever so slowly in and out, leaving the platypus in painless agony -- and yet, inexplicably, as excited as he was scared.
Thomas' presence was arousing him, and the thought that it was Thomas who was so close to him as to make his body respond, gave a strange sense of elation to the intensity of what his nervous system was telling him. This feeling made him find the acceleration of Thomas tolerable. The invasion became slowly routine; the feelings, like any sensation, dulled as seconds passed into minutes, and a slow greasing by the worm inside of him grew into a rhythmic polishing.
Haley could hear Thomas enjoying it from his panting and grunting, but the hands which now held his shoulders tighening their grip and the ever-building level of grease inside of him were stronger indications that he was doing the right thing. Haley just endured, a marathon of sensation he intended to complete, despite the quick setting in of neruological exhaustion.
Just as he was having these thoughts -- that his insides were going to be filed down to nothing by the endless rubbing they were getting -- Thomas began bark with every breath, and then with a cross between a long whimper and a short howl, pressed himself fully against Haley, hips ineptly thrusting on occasion to try and get him just that little bit deeper into Haley's guts. Haley felt the slime being pumped into him as a different kind of violation, material which felt far more within his expectation of what his guts were designed to process, but with his muscles, committed himself to hold it until Thomas was thoroughly satisifed.
The moment the wolf withdrew his shaft from Haley, and the platypus sealed his tailhole, he mindlessly climbed over the end of the couch, almost losing muscular control as he landed on the floor. Clambered to his feet, he ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. It was plywood, and the latch was stronger than its momentum, and it bounced. But Haley was already sitting down and purging himself; there was nothing he could do if Thomas wanted to see him in his current state.
It took him several minutes -- long after the purge was complete -- for his muscles to be convinced there was nothing else left, and that they could finally relax. Only after he had gotten himself back in order did he walk, slowly, out of the bathroom.
Feeling rather suddenly naked, and therefore shy, he called around the corner to the living room, "can I get dressed now?"
"Sure," replied Thomas, voice suggesting he was now in a state similar to Haley's ten minutes ago.
As Haley was heading to get pants, however, Thomas added with a smile Haley could hear, "but I'd love to see you still naked."
The words changed Haley from someone coming out of the bathroom, who should behave himself, into someone whose love had just called him thither.
He smiled, and padded gingerly back into the living room, where Thomas was waiting for him. With unspoken consent, he sat down in the taller male's lap, feeling his grey chest fur mix with his own brown back fur.
"Is it okay if I stay with you tonight?" murmured Thomas quietly, leaning back on the couch and gently dragging Haley horizontal with him.
"Anything," smiled Haley, feeling an upwelling of affection. "I haven't felt this way about someone in a long time," he murmured contemplatively.
"I hope I can learn you well enough to let it continue for a long time," Thomas whispered, wrapping Haley's hand in his.
The platypus smiled, and joked, "then you'd better stop slacking off in architecture class."
They both giggled, and after little more talking, Haley let himself fall asleep. Only now could he say to himself: even if his pessimistic predictions were right, and this relationship would end tomorrow, it was worth it for tonight.
The End.
(version 1.0)