Steam
Chapter I
Sunlight filtered in through the curtains of the guestroom, splashing warm light across the still-slumbering ringtail where he lay. Scrubbing a paw across eyes still heavy with sleep, Alister groaned and rolled over as an ear flicked as if disturbed by the sun's audacity. The warmth of the bed was intoxicating-nearly as much as the feeling of Bishop still pressing against him from behind-and he would have certainly found him-self continuing his slumber had it not been for his own wakefulness.
With classes having only recently begun for the spring quarter, Alister had found that time and again he would come to at no later than 10:24 each morning. Cursing his own biology, he gingerly slid free of the chocolate brown shroud of the bed and padded to the adjoining bathroom in bare paws.
As always, the sun had found its way into the bathroom as well, giving a pleasant golden shine to the otherwise dull ivory tiles and creamy, alabaster accents that made up much of the room. Pleased to find that the old argyle bath mat was still in place-a hideous thing they had found in some store's clearance bin-the ringtail stood upon the small island of warmth as he waited for the shower to come to temperature.
Moments later, all paraphernalia of sleep was discarded and a contented sigh arose as Alister groggily languished in the steaming water.
Bishop stifled a yawn as he groped about in the empty place where the ringtail's scent and faint warmth still lingered. A sound caught his ears. Opening his eyes as he rolled over to face its source, the fox spied a glint of light that showed through the partially closed bathroom door.
Alister was in the shower.
A sly smile touched his muzzle as an idea began to form.
Easing himself to the floor, black-socked paws barely skimmed across the carpet as the fox glided towards the bathroom door.
Once inside, he found himself enveloped by a thin fog of steam that slowly issued from behind the frosted glass of the shower from where it stood on the far wall. Nearby, a shock of orange marred a swath of gray fabric where both the ringtail's undergarments and hoodie had been discarded over the side of the tub.
Leaving the garments as they were, save for the addition of the boxer-briefs he wore, Bishop placed a paw on the glass of the shower door. A gentle push and it slid along its track, barely audible over the sound of the running water. As he stepped inside, the fox found that his sheath was warmed by more than just the steam that lingered in the air.
It took quite a bit for the fox to resist the urge to reach out and run his paws through the thick fur of Alister's striped tail. Little more than a few inches away in the awkward space provided by the shower, the sodden appendage threatened to brush against him each time he so much as twitched. Of course, that much wouldn't matter in a few moments.
With Alister busy attending to the needs of daily hygiene, it was little trouble for the roguish fox to sneak up behind him and liberate a well-lathered scrub from the other's paws.
"H-hey..!" Surprise brought the ringtail back from his shower-induced reverie as he felt a pair of familiar arms wrap about him from behind.
"Mmm... hey yourself," Replied Bishop as his paws took up scrubbing where Alister had been working only moments ago.
Another pressure was soon felt as Alister leaned back to nuzzle against a ruddy-furred cheek. The familiar curves of the fox's sheath fit snuggly in the cleft of his rump, its short, thick fur bristling beneath his tail.
"What are you doing up so early? You don't have class today."
Alister shook his head. "I'm supposed to be meeting someone for lunch."
Drifting lower with each pass of the bubbling loofah, Bishop's paws made their steady and inevitable descent as he nuzzled along the white crescent that marked the back of the ringtail's ears.
"I was going to help pro-" His breath caught as the loofah, now replaced with the fox's paw, brushed along the side of his sheath. "proof Owen's essay for his Interior Design class."
"I'm sure he won't mind if you're a little late," murmured the fox as he curled his paw to deftly cup the white-furred sac, pads applying a gentle, even pressure.
Alister gave only a soft whine as he felt the heat that grew where the fox ground beneath his tail. He leaned his head back against Bishop's shoulder, his muzzle resting between the space of neck and cheek as he spied the fox looking down to observe his handiwork.
Giving the ringtail a light squeeze, Bishop smiled. The growing stiffness in his sheath was readily evident. "When's the last time...?" He murmured, shifting as he felt his own hardness begin to slip free.
The ringtail shuddered. He could feel the stiff, vulpine shaft as it rubbed along the underside of his rump, its tip prodding his tail with each slow throb. His reply was nearly breathless. "M-maybe a few days, I think. I've been busy in the mornings."
Bishop nodded in understanding. Carefully, he took the tip of the other's sheath in his thumb and forefinger and eased it back; the exposed head of the ringtail's near-black shaft a shock against the cream of his fur.
He shivered despite the hot cascade of water, his breathing quickening with each heavy pulse that brought his cock to life. Reaching up a paw, he hooked it behind the fox's head where tiny claws left furrows in the gold-tinted fur.
A pair of fingers suddenly probed through the fur beneath his tail, finding the hidden ring there with practiced ease. Bishop pressed in first one, and then the other, the intruding digits eliciting a wavering, needy gasp from Alister.
"I promise I'll go slow," he cooed.
Everything seemed to proceed in a dream-like daze. Bishop slowly leaned his body forwards, pressing the smaller ringtail against the tiled wall. Bringing his paws about, he hiked the long striped tail, the other slicking water along the full length of his shaft. Finally pleased with the ways his pads seemed to glide over the pulsing flesh, Bishop allowed himself a few slow rubs against the narrow cleft of Alister's rump before moving himself into position.
Biting his lip in anticipation of what was to come, the ringtail froze as he felt the pressure of the vulpine shaft as it met with the furless pucker beneath his tail. There was a brief moment of resistance; he felt himself relax as the muscles slowly stretched to accommodate the sizable girth that seemed to only further swell as inch after inch sank into him.
After what felt to have been an eternity, the throbbing advancement of the fox's member came to a slow halt. Thumb and forefinger soon found their way to the ringtail, curling them-selves about the base of his fully-engorged length, where they moved in long sweeps from the furred lip of his sheath to the quivering head.
Bishop grunted, feeling the smaller body press back against his own. "Careful," he whispered as he felt himself slide further into the hot, tight passage beneath the striped tail. Taking a short moment to shift himself, the fox withdrew, waiting until he was nearly free before tilting his weight forwards. Alister gasped in his arms.
The rhythm built, Bishop pushing harder with each thrust. He could feel and hear the wet slap of his sac as the furred balls made contact, the jolt sending yet another pulse coursing through him.
Then it began. Starting at the base of his spine, it surged forwards, spreading out through his body like fire. Pausing just long enough to bury his muzzle in the fur of Alister's neck, he felt his whole body shudder as he climaxed, sending white-hot strands of seed deep within the ringtail.
* * *
Alister sighed as he finished brushing his fur into order, his eyes flicking back towards the wall clock. "I'm going to be late, now."
"Sorry," Bishop murmured sheepishly as he helped to tame a matted snarl that marred the lush tail in his paws, which he nearly let free as an unexpected kiss was placed upon the side of his muzzle.
"It's okay." The ringtail replied with a smirk. "just remember the next time you have some-where you need to be, I am so going to make sure you get stuck here."
* * *
The slow wash of waves lapping across the shore mixed with the low, gentle rumble of the ocean; they were the sounds that he so often sought for comfort. Now, though, they only reminded him of the strange emptiness that had begun to well up in his life.
For the past several days, Owen had found himself awakening to an empty bed. Breakfast alone soon became a typical affair-were it to happen at all. Though the opportunity for un-interrupted sleep was welcome on a visceral level, the otter soon found that he had begun to miss the muffled sounds of the morning. It was as if the quiet tick of the clockwork that drove his life had been silenced.
Casting the thoughts aside, he dug a foot-paw into the sands, watching as a wave cast tiny, glinting granules of the stuff across the webbing. The beaches were nearly empty at this hour, as most tourists and locals were busy with the attractions back near the mainland.
"It's like my own private hideaway," he thought aloud as he trudged his way through the shallows, no longer caring that his tail left furrows though the sands as it dragged along behind him.
Owen encountered only a few others after he left the dunes and made his way towards the old strip-mall. The little plaza featured quite a few establishments, most of them catering to the local fauna. All of the comforts of any small, coastal town were there, down to the odd surf-shack and the tiny coffee shop, owned by an old platypus whose Hawaiian-print shirts were often louder than the tourists.
Still, it wasn't a half-bad place for a guy in his second year of college. The close-knit feel of the community was something he had longed for, having grown up in a rich suburb. Passing a wave to the puma behind the counter as he slipped into the music store, Owen made his way to the racks of CDs that lined the back wall. He recognized the girl from the LGBA on campus-she always seemed disinterested in things, though he had found it was little more than a facade she put up.
"Keeps the boys from chatting too much," she had told him one slow afternoon when the store was all but empty. "not to mention it makes it a lot easier to stare at some of the girls. Check out the rack on that one."
He had to admit, it was a useful technique, but the desire to look at the jiggling cleavage of women dressed in bikini tops eluded him completely.
Wait, is that...? He paused partway down an isle and turned slowly. Though Owen had only seen it out of the corner of his eye, he was certain of what he had seen. A hesitant paw reached out, and with a single claw, he gingerly eased the case free of the shelf's grasp.
He blushed, pleased by the unexpected find. Nestled in his paws was the latest Enya album, something that had been a guilty pleasure of his for years. A quick check of his pockets brought about a sigh. Once again, he had left his wallet back in the apartment. Cursing his ill luck, Owen guiltily plodded back towards the counter where Alyssa watched him idly with a smirk.
"Should have known you'd go straight for that one," she cooed, moving only to slide the price gun over with a claw.
He could feel his cheeks color at the remark. "Shush," he retorted, "besides, I don't have any money with me. I was hoping you could hold this for a bit."
The puma rolled her eyes. "Hon, when have I cared about that? I'll put it on your little list of 'favors Owen still owes me'."
With the album safely tucked away in one of the store's usual music-themed bags, Owen made his way outside. Over the jangling of the door chimes, he could hear Alyssa calling "You owe me dinner tomorrow!"
His spirits feeling lighter and the promise of hours of relaxed listening to the sultry sounds of the new aged goddess weighing upon his paw, Owen began the trek back to the old apartment complex. The otter had only made it a few blocks into the green copses that surrounded much of the tiny, 70's-inspired plot of suburbia when the buzzing of his cell phone caught his attention. A little bit of fumbling soon freed the device from its place in his hoodie pocket.
The screen showed a little otter holding up a sign reading '1 new message'. Owen flicked it open and scanned the contents of the text.
Running late; I'll meet you at the Bean in bit. The sender was none other than Alister, his likeness, which had been rendered into that of a small plush doll, joyously proclaiming his some-what expected tardiness.
Owen sighed as he mounted the curving ramp that lead up to the campus proper. At least that would give him some time to clear his head.
* * *
The heady scent of spiced chai curled up in an aromatic plume from the steaming cup nestled in his paws. The sleepy sheen of his eyes was not from lack of rest, something the otter picked up on almost immediately as he sat down. He noted that Alister, too, had ordered one of the little coffee shop's chai teas.
"Sorry about being late," Alister muttered over the rim of his cup as he shuffled some papers about on the small, bean-shaped table that was wedged between the two overstuffed chairs, its surface a haze of avant-garde prints and garish colors.
Owen rolled his eyes as he eased his rudder-like tail into a more comfortable position. "Tell me about it and I'll forgive you."
"Huh?" The question had caught the ringtail off-guard.
"You heard me," Owen replied, flashing small, pointed teeth. Collecting the papers in webbed paws, the otter continued. "Tell me all about it and I'll forgive you for being late."
Ears folded back, he sighed. "Alright, but first tell me how you knew."
Owen set down his drink before sliding the thick sheaf of papers across the table. "Well, you certainly look it. I take it Bishop...?" He didn't even have to finish the sentence; the faint color that came to the ringtail's cheek was enough.
"Let's just get to working on your essay. We'll trade stories later when I need material for something." Alister retorted, giving the other a gentle shove.
Eventually, lunch came to pass and found the two friends still sitting in the chairs of the lobby, the remnants of sandwiches perched upon trays with the refuse of their meal. Owen was in high spirits and pleased to find that his study into the meanings behind geometry and color choice was not only intriguing, but well written. Taking a final swig from a soda, he turned to the ringtail.
"So you really think it's good?" He asked.
The other nodded, busily scratching in a few notes on one of the pages. "For the most part. I'm just glad it's not all text."
Owen nodded as he collected trash. "Tell me about it. I guess having a professor who likes pictures better is a good thing at times."
"You should try having a class where every-thing you do is code. And then have to write on top of that." Alister called as he cast the page aside to review yet another.
From his vantage point near the trash bins, Owen noted the way that the other's long, banded tail wound about the base of the chair, its monochrome colors bringing out the wild hues of the chair. It was easily as long as his friend was tall, if not more; the serpentine appendage was like some kind of primeval, eyeless creature in the way that it languished upon the floor. Returning to his seat, now rotated to rest beside Alister's, the otter took note of the ringtail's slim figure, now apparent through less layers, thanks to the warmer weather. He couldn't help but think how lewd it was; the thick crop of bushy tail that veritably spilled forth from the low waistline of the other's capris, their wash accenting the dark, umber fur.
Alister's voice caught his ear. "... sure about this part. Owen? Hello, earth to otter."
"Huh? Oh, uh... sorry. Just thinking." He replied, taking his seat as he tried to bring his mind back to the task at hand.
It was perhaps the most irksome product of the whole situation he had found himself in recently. With Terry gone, it seemed the otter had little to occupy himself with aside from the vast tracts of the internet and his own paw. He didn't like to think that he was desperate, but... how long had it been?
"So anyway, I think you'll want to redo this section here. It's a bit unclear what you're trying to get at." Alister repeated, eyeing his friend for a moment before sliding the page across.
Owen blinked, glancing over the text. "Where?"
"Here, specifically." He motioned with a slim claw, tapping the offending text. "We've only been working on two pages, you know."
"Sorry, I..." With a sigh, Owen shook his head and picked up the page. "just a lot of things on my mind, I guess."
Things had continued much the same, even with the passing of dinner. When not making notes on corrections or improvements, Owen's mind frequently slipped back to earlier. He hadn't caught himself staring like that in well... since he had been in high school and was watching the swim team. It had become something of a guilty pleasure for several weeks until the coach had asked if he was interested in joining.
Such thoughts soon lead him back to Alister. The two had been friends for over a year, having met at one of the LGBA meetings. Most of their interactions were through the club and its various functions, but friendship was quick to blossom, and soon Owen had found himself seeing a different side of the seemingly shy-quiet ringtail.
By then, Alister was more animated, a near force of personality concealed within a veil of rich, chocolate fur. The two met frequently: for lunch, study, projects, or simply just to waste time. Secrets were shared and there had been a pawful of occasions where he had seen the ringtail in various states of undress. But he could never remember having thought about him quite like he had done so earlier. Maybe it had been because he was seeing Terry then, but as he thought, it dawned on him.
I could have picked anyone else for this, Owen thought, glancing at the ringtail out of the corner of his eye. So why him?
Convincing himself it was simply a force of habit-he was anything but desperate-Owen rocked back in his chair and let out a sigh that had been long in the making.
"Alright... I think I'm gonna go blind if I keep looking at this stuff."
Alister nodded, gathering the papers together as he spoke. "Yeah, and it's already ten. Want to finish the rest up tomorrow?"
The otter gave an absentminded reply as he stuffed the papers and assorted notes back into his bag. Shoving a paw into the front pocket of his jacket, he groped around for his phone before pausing.
"Something wrong?" Alister asked.
Alternate pockets were checked in a flurry before Owen muttered an oath under his breath. "I forgot my keys."
The ringtail smirked. "So? Your roomie can let you in, right?"
"No," Owen shook his head. "he's out of town visiting relatives for the weekend."
Alister glanced over at the large, glowing face of the neon wall clock. A quarter past ten; Bishop would be arriving back at the apartment shortly. "Why not stay at my place for the night? In the morning we'll get everything sorted out."
He hesitated for a moment, nibbling at his lower lip as he mulled it over. It's just kindness, he thought, nothing more. You're just being a horny little kit.
"Alright," he finally conceded, hitching his pack over his shoulder to follow Alister back to the apartment.
While uneventful the walk was pleasant to say the least. The weather was still cool, especially at this time of night, so few students lingered about on the quads. Those that were outside hustled about on the long strip of concrete that was the main thoroughfare for the campus, eager to get back to heating and their glowing screens for a quick respite before diving once again into their work.
At least, that was how Owen saw it. It seemed that, compared to his delightful art major, Alister never seemed to have anything to be working on at all.
For most of their walk, Alister had been recounting his morning and why he had arrived nearly a half-hour late. The level of detail in the retelling of his friend's sordid affair was some-thing he had come to know and appreciate. The boy certainly knew how to make a story, which the stiffness in his sheath firmly attested to. Even by the time Alister was turning the key to let him into the flat he shared with Bishop, it had refused to go down, though luckily a loose pair of shorts had kept things relatively concealed.
"Head on in, I forgot to go check the mail." Alister said as he motioned to the partially open door.
"Alright," replied Owen, watching the swaying tail of his friend as the ringtail made his way back downstairs to the lobby.
The interior was much like he remembered it, though it seemed the decorations had been updated since the last time he had been there. The diffused glow of lights and the sound of the TV could be heard from around the corner. Dropping his things in the hallway near a pair of discarded sandals, the otter plodded into the living room to wait for Alister's return.
A voice greeted him in the gloom. "Hey, hon! Come try the sangria, it came out divine!"
"Who's-? Oh." Owen felt his cheeks flush at the sight that greeted him. On the couch, a big, overstuffed affair with wide cushions laid a fox who he recognized as Bishop. Bishop held a tapered glass of a darkish liquid in one paw, another resting precariously near the obvious tenting in his shorts, a faint show of pink visible above the beige fabric.
"Oh, sorry!" Replied the fox as he set down his drink and moved to stand, his paw discretely adjusting the front of his shorts. "A friend of Alister's, I take it?"
He nodded, too unsure of himself to speak at the moment. Even over the faint scent of wine, the thick vulpine musk was rather heavy in the air.
"Ah, I remember, you must be Owen. I'm Bishop-Alister's flat-mate of sorts. Would you like anything to drink? Some snacks, perhaps?" The fox smiled, motioning towards an empty space on the couch.
"No... I'm fine, but thanks."
When Owen had finally taken a seat, Bishop returned to his reclined position on the opposite end of the couch. Even in the faint lighting, the hints of the other's arousal were unmistakable.
"So, tell me a bit about yourself." The fox asked with the faintest hint of a smile on his muzzle.
"I uh... there's not really much to tell," He started, trying to think of anything to continue the conversation and keep it away from the situation at paw.
Bishop raised a brow as he sipped at his drink. "Oh? What about the cute dhole you were with before-Terry, right?"
"Yeah. Well uh, we kind of broke up, to put it simply." He replied, stealing a quick glance back at the prominent ridge of other's crotch before distracting himself with whatever crappy show was playing on the television.
The fox gave an understanding nod. "That's too bad. He seemed rather nice. So I take it you're single, then?"
Owen shrugged. "For now, I guess. I'm not really seeing anyone, so... yeah. What about you?"
"Is that so." He could have sworn he had heard a giggle as the fox leaned in, ears perked with intrigue. "Well I do hope you find someone soon."
A paw came to rest on his thigh, the pads applying a soft pressure that seemed to stray up towards his hip. Before he could reply, Owen heard the door open again. Alister's voice called from the hallway.
"Sorry about that, ended up having to take a call before I could make it upstairs." As the ring-tail came around into the living room, the lights brightened. "Why are you sitting in the dark?"
Bishop smiled, his paw having slid free from where it had teased the otter only moments before. "There you are. Go try some of the sangria. Me and Owen were just getting to know each other."
Alister rolled his eyes as he took the glass from the fox's paws before sitting down opposite the two, his motions interrupted by a rather prolonged kiss between the two. He could feel a gentle pressure, just the faintest hint of a claw tracing along the side of his sheath through the thin fabric of his pants. "He's been here before," The ringtail said faintly afterwards.
"Thanks for letting me stay over. It beats having to crash in one of the common areas." Owen said as he looked away, trying to remain casual despite the fact that the fox's tail had found a way to brush along his leg.
"Don't worry about it," replied the ringtail as he drank a fair portion of the wine to hide the color that had come to his own cheeks, noting the fact that Owen was trying hard to look like he wasn't actually looking at the lewd display of the fox.
Taking the glass back, Bishop frowned upon realizing it was empty. "I guess I'll go get everyone something to drink."
As the fox rose to go get himself a refill, Alister slid over to sit beside Owen. "Hey, if you want to talk about what's been bothering you lately, I don't mind."
"Thanks, but I think I'm good now." He murmured, thankful that Bishop's distraction had left.
When the fox had returned to take up the spot vacated by his flat-mate, Alister was already flicking through shows. "Think there's anything good on Sci-Fi?"
Owen shook his head. "Nah, most of the stuff they show now is like, C-movie bad."
Ultimately, they settled on watching some special on ancient China, which Owen would have found far more fascinating were his thoughts not gravitating between the two other occupants of the couch. As the narrator droned on about feudal Chinese society, with several red pandas reenacting the scenes, Owen kept replacing Bishop's body with that of the ringtail's.
Yet even the thought of fox was familiar and alluring. Terry had been decidedly canine, a trait he had grown rather fond of in their time together. Owen grunted slightly as he shifted on the couch. If he had thought the stiffness in his sheath was a problem before, it was an inter-national crisis, now.
Alister leaned back against Bishop's shoulder, not quite paying attention to the program so much as the otter to his side. The quick touch the fox had given him earlier-little more than a gentle pressure of a paw against his sheath-had been more than enough to make the other's desires known. As much as he wanted to go back and indulge the fox and his insatiable appetite, he lingered.
It had become far too obvious that his friend was, for lack of a better term, pent up. The otter had been shifting slightly for quite some time, and the way he had been carefully avoiding looking in Bishop's direction was also a fair sign.
Shifting just enough to extend his reach, the ringtail moved to let his paw come to rest on Owen's tail which lay between them. The faint shiver and curt glance was all he needed in confirmation. Gently, he began to rub his paw in slow, lazy circles, his fingertips drifting higher at the top of each drunken arc.
From the corner of his eye, he had caught the ringtail's glance when he first felt the unexpected touch. At first, he had thought little of it, but now that the caresses had come so far that Alister's deft fingers dipped into the waist of his shorts with each pass, the other's intent was clear. And strangely, he couldn't object. The feeling of intimacy was something he had longed for, had craved for so long, that now it seemed like utter sacrilege to brush simply it off.
There was a faint his as the fly of his pants came undone with the careful ministrations and the pressure restricting him suddenly came away. Almost immediately, he could feel the paw fill the void, its warmth banishing away the chill of the air. Fingertips teased along the curvature of his sac as Alister's palm rubbed up and down his quivering length with a slow rhythm that seemed to build with the dampness that Owen could feel spreading out where the tip of his cock leaked freely against his strained undergarments.
What few parts of his brain that weren't already intoxicated by the sensations that seemed to thunder through him thought it odd that here he sat in his friend's flat, his pants open and a paw groping him into a frenzy-and one that didn't even belong to himself!
As the paw withdrew, Owen caught himself reaching out to grasp at Alister, not wanting him to stop. His paw met only open air. Glancing down at the feeling of something warm gusting over his sheath, he found that not only had the ringtail slid away his boxers but also positioned himself so that his muzzle hung scant inches from the sensitive flesh.
Another breath gusted across his now-exposed length, sending a low wave of pleasure through him, even as the sensations grew to a torrent as Alister's muzzle dipped the final distance to trail a narrow, dark tongue along his shaft. He could feel it gently flick against his tip before the entirety of his stiffness was consumed in the ringtail's muzzle.
The damp warmth was all encompassing, adding fuel to the pleasure that grew within him as he felt the tongue return to grace along his trapped cock. The paw appeared once more as well, and Alister's fingers busied themselves with exploring the subtle curves of the otter's thick-furred sac.
Owen shuddered, realizing that his eyes were screwed shut. Opening them, he watched as one in a dream. The ringtail's muzzle bobbed at a steady clip, the little marks on either side keeping time with each rise and fall. Behind him, the long, striped tail fell to one side, guided by a black-socked paw as Bishop moved into position. Casually, he noted that both the fox and Alister were now without pants, the heavy, vulpine shaft swinging into view as it came to rest upon Alister's rump. The ringtail gave a soft moan, the vibrations seeming to echo through his cock like a struck chord.
There was a pause, and then he could feel Alister pressing against him as the fox pushed in deep, the low whine that emitted from the muzzle wrapped about him only adding to the strange pleasure. As Bishop begin to thrust in and out of the ringtail, Owen felt a low moan building in his throat. Each slow shift of the fox's hips, each thrust seeming to build upon them-selves; already the ringtail's muzzle was bobbing in time to the grunts and panting yips that issued from the opposite end of the couch.
Owen felt himself tense, bracing for the climax he knew to be coming in but a matter of moments. Then, with a sudden ferocity, it burst forth, spattering thick, pungent seed that coated the inside of Alister's muzzle.
Having finally caught his breath, his eyes opening once more to the muted brilliance of the overhead lights, Owen glanced over, still half expecting that it was little more than a fantasy. As if to prove him false, he saw Alister, the fur of his muzzle still bearing a faint sheen from where cum had escaped. Even more, the ringtail was positioned in Bishop's lap, the thick, vulpine knot still visible where it sunk between his spread legs. The fox was panting heavily, the sounds of which were muffled where muzzle met the ruff of Alister's neck.
Meeting his gaze, Alister smiled, his eyes filled with the same, glowing shine. Waiting until Bishop leaned back, arms uncurling from about his effeminate waist, he slowly reached around the arm of the sofa to produce a blanket.
"You can sleep here or borrow the bed if you want, tonight. I don't think foxie plans on moving any time soon."
With an absent nod, Owen accepted the blanket, using the extra space to curl up and make himself comfortable. In the back of his mind, he reflected on the events that had just come to pass. The fact that he had just been in a threesome in his friend's apartment no longer seemed to register, as even now the mingling scents of musk began to fade into a familiar, blissful weariness.
Shortly before falling asleep, he felt a light tug and a shifting as the other two rose to make their way off to bed. That night, Owen dreamt peacefully.