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--Chapter I: Floyd

Lou felt delighted, yet like a cold knot in his stomach, there was always that apprehension, the nervousness that preceded every visit from Floyd, a handsome red fox, but most notable as his ex, one still near his heart. Whenever he thought of the fox, storybook images of romance, closeness, and deep, respectful affection came to him, calming him and bringing dull, content smiles to his face. Like a recurring nightmare, however, that skunk was like a corrupter, tainting everything good and pure, replacing it with raunchy debauchery. And the worst part was that Lou remembered sex with that skunk fondly, almost as fondly as he remembered holding Floyd in his arms.

But it was time for him to let go of that, if only for a weekend. Lou pushed away his self-pity and blatantly rejected all thoughts of what if? and if I could do that over, I'd... He forced himself to chin up, and he intended to greet the tod with a smile. When he heard the buzzer, he momentarily felt that knot again, but he didn't give it any time to fester and sour his mood. "Hey, you," he said into the intercom with a casual air, earning a small chuckle from the other end. "Hey yourself," Floyd answered, "can I come in, or do I have to sleep on a park bench?" Lou momentarily grinned, then bit his lip as he buzzed the fox in. Floyd soon arrived at the door, and though he started to knock, Lou didn't let him finish a single rap. The door swung in, revealing the handsome, somewhat bashfully smiling buck; Floyd smiled right back to him, and in the tod's intelligent eyes, Lou could see no malice, no accusation. They were things he always looked for when seeing Floyd for the first time in a few months, but he never, ever saw them. Floyd dropped his bag in the threshold just so he could hug Lou, and they held one another for a long, content, silent moment. Neither creature made even a rumble of affection, and in that sense, it was almost uneasy. When it ended, they gazed into one another's eyes for but a second, and then Lou stepped aside. Floyd lifted his bag, and he padded his way in, finding the deer's apartment cozy and warm after such a long, tiresome train ride. "I had a hard time waiting for this," Lou said as he shoved the door shut, coming up behind the tod, who had again dropped his bag and was in the middle of stretching his flexible, slender body. Floyd intuitively knew what the buck was going to do, and so he wasn't surprised in the least when he was hugged from behind. With a content murr, one with enough resonance to compensate for his earlier silence, Floyd pressed back into the deer, and he wrapped the luxurious fluff of his tail around the handsome buck's back. "I missed you," said Lou, whispering his words right into one of the tender, flitting triangles of Floyd's ears. Closing his eyes, soon bearing a happy, if not dull smile, Floyd responded only with a happy, animal-like sound that Lou found pleasant and endearing.

For Lou and Floyd both, the moment felt like old times, like young love rekindled, but pressed close together, neither felt the bittersweetness and the ultimate - if not temporary - resentment and scorn that came with such nostalgia. In that instant, they did both think of what had happened, but neither wanted to spoil the moment. Theirs was a weekend of closeness, of fun, not for ripping open old wounds to start a cheap fight. No matter what had happened, Floyd loved Lou dearly, a mutual affection, and one that nothing could snuff out - not even manipulative skunks. They could have shared that moment forever, and truly, it would have gone on much longer, yet Floyd's stomach rumbled with a tremor of astonishing force. Pressed close, his groin harmlessly against the taut curve of the fox's behind, his chest to the vulpine's back, Lou felt it almost as violently as the tod did. It brought them pause and a moment of embarrassment, like a sudden, unexpected belch might have, but Floyd took it in stride easily enough. "Dinner on the train looked like it was dinner on the train a week ago," he said, coaxing a genuine laugh from the deer. "I'll cook us something," the deer said after the fact, slipping away from Floyd in a move that dripped with obvious reluctance - but he'd be close to the fox again, and he told himself that. "Not without me, you won't," Floyd said, but despite the playfully confrontational flavor of his words, he delivered them calmly. Lou, who had already grabbed a skillet out for dinner, glanced back at the fox and met his sharp, but friendly face with a misty-eyed smile. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Though neither Lou nor Floyd were top chefs, they could most certainly cook a pleasing, filling meal. When Floyd saw that Lou intended to cook a catfish, he walked the deer through a recipe he'd picked up - it saw them season it with sage and bread it lightly in a garlic and onion-seasoned batter with but a splash of beer added to the frying oil. It was flavorful, to say the least, and perhaps a tiny bit like a meal a stereotypically gay, fabulous chef might prepare, yet Floyd insisted he hadn't come up with it himself, no matter how playfully accusatory Lou became. In the final leg of the preparation, which Lou handled with ease - simply frying the seasoned fish in olive oil - Floyd gently pressed against the deer from behind, mirroring the buck's earlier lover's embrace. He murred sweetly into Lou's ears, delivering no words, merely feral sounds of affection that delivered pleasure to both creatures. It was not erotic pleasure, but simply a sensation of closeness; it was, in a word, intimacy. "Mmm, hi there," Lou sighed, pressing back against Floyd, though none too loosely - the last thing he wanted to do was fall back on the fox with that panhandle in his hand. "Hey, looks like it's time to eat," the buck said quietly, getting a sudden, unexpected, but not unwanted kiss on the cheek from Floyd. He took it with only a smile. Floyd released him from the embrace, and he took out a pair of glass plates from the cabinet nearby, with forks for two; as tender as the meat was, they didn't need knives. "I really gotta wonder," Lou mused, gently bisecting the golden-brown fish with the spatula, afterward putting the halves on the plates, "who thinks up a meal like this?"

Floyd smiled sheepishly as he took the plates to the table and sat them down, one at Lou's spot, the other at his own. Lou, ever the gentleman, stepped around behind Floyd and pulled the tod's chair out for him. "Aw, thanks," the fox said, subtly - but truly - touched by Lou's thoughtfulness. "It's nothing," Lou chuckled, leaning down to plant a kiss in the unruly fluff atop Floyd's head. It was a smooch Floyd took, but he tilted his head back and captured the buck in a more impassioned meeting of lips, one with only a hint of tongue. Had he been a little more playful, he would have remarked about cleaning Lou's palate before the meal, but it would have spoiled a gentle moment. Beyond the kiss, they both smiled in a dreamy, almost idiotically affectionate way, and then the deer took his seat. "So," Floyd said, lifting his fork, looking down at the catfish with hungry eyes, "I really didn't come up with this meal. Honest." He took a very quick bite of it, and though he loved that combination of flavors, it simply didn't seem quite as good when he prepared it himself - but considering that it was but the third time he'd cooked that on his own, he thought it was pretty good. Lou, who quite voraciously ate his own piece, seemed to agree - Floyd looked across the table and grinned at him, which brought a bashful blush to the deer, as well as pause. He wiped his lips with a napkin, then shot a small, if not playful smile at Floyd. "Sorry. It just tastes good." He cleared his mouth with a drink of wine, then looked across the table at the fox with a thoughtful air. "So, where did you learn to make this, then? I'm curious, I really am, 'cause this is something special." Floyd swallowed the bite he'd taken before he spoke again. "A friend of mine showed me how to make it, and a few other things, too. He just comes up with food like this on his own. I tell him he ought to be a chef or something, but he just says it's only a hobby." He shrugged, then went back to eating.

"Tell him I think he's really onto something with this," Lou said with a friendly, genuine smile, one Floyd returned. "I will," said Floyd with a soft dip of his head, "once he comes up for air again. I made the mistake of introducing him to the guys." There was a brief pause between the two, then Floyd made Lou aware of just how serious that was. "He's a fox too." Lou almost felt bad when he cut the air with a snerk, but Floyd smiled sympathetically. "He wound up on their blogs and everything. It made him pretty happy, so..." The fox punctuated his sentence with a lazy shrug, and beyond a few immature chuckles and snickers, they went back to eating. When they were both finished, Floyd helped the buck wash up the dishes and pans they'd used; Lou scrubbed, and Floyd rinsed. "So, what have you been up to, honey?" Lou asked, handing a skillet off to the tod, who rinsed it, soaking the belly of his t-shirt in the process. "Ugh, dammit," he uttered under his breath, though he didn't linger on it for long - he even found it kind of silly afterward, but he didn't invite Lou to revel in the clumsiness with him. "I did just finish putting together a new gaming rig a couple weeks ago. Needless to say, my savings are in the double-digits now," the tod said with a rueful chuckle, rinsing the suds off of a plate, which he afterward set in the dish rack. "Nnnerd alert," Lou teased, taking a moment to dab suds on the tod's nose, but he did it all with a loving smile and a deep respect in his eyes. Floyd huffed in playful, fake indignation. "I guess you don't want to hear about my new clan on Steam, then, huh?" he replied, a coy smile tugging at his lips. Lou let out a single syllable of a laugh, a simple heh, and then they leaned close together, sharing an affectionate bump.

After the dishes, Lou and Floyd assisted one another in relaxing, unwinding not only from the work day, but a few months worth of general stress and worries. Together on the sofa, Floyd cuddled into the buck's flank with content submission, and Lou reveled in the opportunity to squeeze the vulpine close. "Do you wanna watch a movie or something? Maybe play some Halo? I don't want you to be bored," Lou said, earning a gentle chuckle from Floyd, followed by a kiss on the lips. "I'm not bored, sweetheart," he said in soft reassurance, wiggling further into Lou's embrace. "I can watch movies and play games whenever I want. Seeing you is something I have to wait for," he explained, speaking quietly and carefully, hand-picking each word with great thought. Absently, Lou put on a cheeky smile; Floyd always brought out his lover side, and that occasion was no exception. "You're something special, Floyd," Lou sighed, lying back on the sofa, pulling Floyd down on top of himself. Nonplussed by the shifting of bodies, the tod laid over Lou's form and planted a tender kiss on his lips. "You're a great guy, you really are," the tod said with blatantly misty eyes, but he went no further than that - he knew as well as Lou that the past needed to stay buried. And besides that, after such a pleasant dinner and so much idle rubbing and cuddling, Floyd was incredibly horny. He squirmed briefly in the deer's arms, and with no fuss, Lou released him, resting one arm behind his head, letting the other fall slack, his hand on the floor. He knew what Floyd was up to, and he eagerly awaited it with a lazy, content smile and closed eyes.

Floyd was a fox, and that was justification enough for what he did next; he pulled down the zipper of Lou's jeans, and then, just as quickly, he undid the button. The sight of Lou's white briefs just beyond the dual flaps of denim made him show a little white of his own; in that case, his teeth. In a moment of lust that outweighed his lingering romantic feelings for Lou, he pulled open the denim halves and tugged down the buck's underpants just enough that he exposed his half-swollen meat and plump ballsack. Simultaneously, the tod engulfed that cock in his maw and closed his eyes in sexual contentment; at once, he began to suck and bob, and his chest shook with a moan not unlike - but not nearly as noisy and passionate as - the one that Lou let loose with. The deer's shaft had already begun to swell completely with blood and arousal; at its' full size, it neatly filled the confines of the tod's maw with throbbing, girthy flesh, and Floyd unabashedly loved that feeling. "Mmh, god," the buck said with a sigh lacing his voice, fondly laying his hand on the back of Floyd's head, stroking through the orange fluff of his hair with tender fingers, rubbing behind the vulpine's ears with his digits. Floyd responded to such affections in an appropriately canine manner by erupting with pleasurable, rumbling growls, and just as appropriately at that, he thudded his bushy tail haphazardly against the couch, but no matter how much he loved the deer's touch, he was hardly distracted from his work. Like any fox, Floyd knew how to please another man with his mouth; it was almost instinct, like an impulse bred into his DNA. With no shortage of sexual theatrics, he bobbed his head and suckled quite noisily, and with a soft paw, he clutched the buck's sack; in his grip, he rolled and lightly squeezed, all things Lou appreciated, which he made abundantly clear, yet the main course was that blowjob, a fact both he and Floyd knew well.

"You have no idea how bad I missed this kinda stuff," Lou said with a dreamy inflection, his face plastered with a happy, almost dopey grin - it was the kind of expression that looked drunk off of sex and pleasure. Floyd grunted his reply, and though Lou wasn't entirely sure what that two-syllable noise meant, if anything, he took it as an agreement. Into the tod's sucking, lapping, bobbing maw, the deer oozed an unending stream of his pre, a slime that stung the vulpine's sensitive taste buds with its' bitter and salty flavor, but it drilled the buck's masculine scent into his sinuses with overbearing authority. The scent made him shudder, making him want the deer even more intensely, and so he started to suck and bob for all he was worth, leaving that thick, pink, blunt-tipped cock dripping with saliva. In the grip of the handsome vulpine, Lou's balls throbbed with a sexual ache, and though he cherished Floyd's grip, he wanted more of that muzzle. Under his breath, he uttered any number of nasty little nothings, and his fingers, once lovingly threaded through Floyd's hair, instead began to assert a little bit of dominance, holding the fox down. Involuntarily, he bucked his hips, and he huffed sharply, so obviously preparing for a climax. Floyd knew it was near, and that was good - he wanted Lou to enjoy himself. Therefore, it was only convenient that the buck would enjoy what he did next even more; the tod pulled back, and beyond a brief moment of assertion, an attempt to keep the fox's mouth where he wanted it, Lou released him and simply gripped the sofa with that hand. He opened his eyes and looked down at Floyd, doing nothing to hide his hot, blushing expression from the fox; Floyd loved that look, and he met it with a coy little smile. "You look like such a stud when you're about to get off," the fox chuckled, rising from the couch smoothly, tugging off his shirt and slipping down his pants with little in the way of teasing - he wanted sex just as badly as Lou did, leaving no time for leisurely stripping. Just as eagerly as Floyd disrobed, Lou stood, hastily shed the rest of his clothes, and then captured the nude fox in an impassioned meeting of lips and tongues, a colossal exchange of saliva and fluids that lingered in the vulpine's maw. He squeezed the slender, sexy fox's flanks and hips in his strong, masculine hands; Floyd shuddered, whimpered in erotic bliss and submission, and then pressed his aching erection into the slobbery length of Lou's own, wrapping his arms tight around the deer's back.

That kiss, no matter how much either creature was involved in it, didn't last for long. It was Floyd who broke it off, but it was Lou that began nibbling and kissing along the tod's chin. "I missed you," he needlessly gasped, letting his strong hands take hold of the fox's behind, where they squeezed and rubbed the taut cheeks. Floyd involuntarily flagged up the bushy length of his tail when he felt that domineering touch, but he didn't mind it at all. "I missed you too," he whispered, speaking directly into one of the deer's ears. Lou stole a kiss on the fox's lips, and then he turned the vulpine, ending the embrace perhaps prematurely, but nobody was complaining. They had no patience to jockey for position on the sofa, nor did they want to walk to the bed - the floor would work just fine. Floyd dropped down to his hands and his knees, and he looked back at the deer with an multifaceted gaze, one both romantic and lusting; it was an enticing gaze, a look that spoke volumes of raw sex, and for just a moment, Lou's thoughts drifted to the skunk, but that was short lived, for he vehemently pushed that away. He knelt down behind the tod, and it was with a lack of shame, but an abundance of respect and care that he wedged the blunt bulk of his meat between the vulpine's firm ass cheeks; both he and Floyd groaned when the deer's blunted, oozing tip butted up neatly to the vulpine's pink, snug pucker, but their sexual noises went in distinctly different directions when the buck started to push forward. Lou huffed with short, sharp snatches of breath, but Floyd hissed and winced, if only for a few seconds. With any man, but especially with one so thick and well-hung as Lou, there would always be that initial discomfort, but Floyd was a fox through and through, and in a short time, he simply enjoyed the feeling of warmth and intimacy that Lou's entry gave him. "Ooh, god," the fox whispered under his breath, afterward drawing his tongue over his lips. Despite how gentle Lou tried to be, it didn't take him long to hilt in the fox, and when that lovely intimacy came, the unmistakable closeness of having his hips flush to the vulpine's rump, he sighed in contentment, a noise Floyd echoed.

With his mighty shaft, one that measured only two inches short of a foot, Lou made very skilled love to the tod beneath him. Leaning over Floyd, planting his hands on either side of the handsome vulpine, he smoothly and steadily rocked his hips, each thrust forcing his swollen, pink penis in so deep that his plump balls smacked up with unabashed lewdness into Floyd's own; every time he pulled back, he nearly exited the tod, leaving just the blunt tip inside, and then, of course, he repeated that piston-reminiscent fucking. With supreme affection and fondness to match the loving, smooth pace of the sex, Lou kissed and nuzzled into the vulpine's perked, twitching ears, treating those twin triangles to any number of playful snuffles, loving gnaws, and whispered, hushed nothings of love and sex, freely mingling amongst one another. "Ooh, gawd," Floyd whined, having missed closeness and sex with the deer for far too long. With a strong hand, Lou reached beneath the fox and clutched his aching erection, the tip oozing with pre, a slippery slime that the deer made good use of to coat his hand and leave it well lubricated for what was to come. At a pace meant not to match, but to exceed his own thrusting, he treated the vulpine to a relaxing, yet still stimulating handjob, all the while laying his ear-centric affections on the athletic tod heavier than ever before. It saw the vulpine start panting and shuddering in addition to his usual whines and other subtleties that came with submission, but plastered across his face was a sexually charged grimace, almost a grin, but most certainly toothy either way. It had been far too long since he'd felt Lou up against him and had the buck's hands on his body; he was already close.

"You like that, sweetheart?" Lou cooed, his words gentle, but they had to be - his lips were down in the cup of the fox's ear. "Mhm," Floyd quaked, smoothly closing his eyes, giving the deer's body a fond squeeze in his tail. "I'm glad, babe, I'm really glad," Lou rumbled to the handsome tod, finding his thrusting growing quicker and harder. "Mmh, damn," he sighed, but it wasn't in disappointment or annoyance - just a little swear for the sake of good sex. In short order, his bucking grew haphazard, maybe even rough and uncaring, but that was to be expected so close to an orgasm, and Floyd didn't mind it. Rather, he grunted and gasped encouragingly for the deer, and Lou fed off that raw, sexual energy with a mighty hunger. The deer gasped out some obscenity, followed shortly by a thoughtless, yet still endearing compliment to Floyd, and then he came, spilling his thick, white load, coating the vulpine's walls like a sloppy coat of paint. The sensation saw Floyd groan hotly and arch his spine; he threw his head up as if to howl at the ceiling, but no such noise came, and his grimace was tighter than ever; that plus his squinted eyes and flattened ears made for a very sexy oh-face. In the buck's hand, he came just as hard as he always did with Lou - which was, to say, quite hard. Some of that male seed was left in the deer's already well-sullied hand, but much of it simply found a new home on the area rug beneath - Lou would have to move the coffee table over that spot later on. "Ah, mmh, that was good," the deer huffed unnecessarily, giving one last, awkward grind of his hips. "God, yeah," Floyd sighed, chuckling dryly in his afterglow. "You're so good, baby..."

Like the pair of amorous lovers they were, Lou and Floyd spooned on the spot they'd finished; with an air of possessiveness, but still exuding good-natured affection, the buck stroked fondly over the vulpine's fluffy chest, and Floyd did much of the same to the deer's back with his tail. By the time they actually separated and the deer withdrew his by-then flaccid meat from the tod, they shared a shower, one free of sexual antics, yet not entirely devoid of petting and kissing. Then, dressed only in towels for the sake of drying their coats sometime that night, they sat upon the sofa. "So, what do you wanna do?" Lou asked, shooting Floyd a casual glance, but no matter what, he couldn't entirely dispel the affectionate gaze in his eyes. Floyd was similarly afflicted, but he managed to keep from cuddling or kissing the deer. "Last time we talked on the phone, you said you had some videos of your new routines," Floyd offered, letting a friendly smile overtake his muzzle. "Heh, I do," Lou said with a small chuckle, standing up from the sofa, clutching the knot of the towel on his hip. "I think you'll like the moves I came up with recently," he said absently, kneeling down by his TV; below it was his DVD player, and he put in a homemade disc, one containing footage of dance moves he'd choreographed himself. Floyd watched the home movies faithfully at the buck's side, cuddled with a feminine air into his flank. "I really do think it's amazing how you can think up this stuff and move like that," he remarked with genuine interest, only briefly stealing a look up into the deer's eyes - Lou grinned bashfully. "I'm a fox, so I'm pretty flexible," Floyd said, his smile turning from friendly to coy and back again, "but I can't move like that. You're really good at this stuff." By the time Lou had run Floyd through the entirety of his routines, the clock on the wall was well past midnight; just seeing that made Lou yawn. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, squeezing the fox close, "let's get some shut-eye. I ought to sleep good with a fox cuddled up close to me." They shared a smile, then a kiss, and finally a bed.

The next morning, it was Floyd who awoke first, and he roused Lou not long after. The both of them awake, they lay in bed, cuddled close together, speaking no words to one another, savoring only the closeness and warmth of each other's bodies. In time, the buck turned and glanced at the clock on the nightstand, its' digital face reading 8:06. "Mmm, hey, we ought to get up," Lou mumbled half-heartedly, hoping Floyd might playfully resist and force him to stay put, but no - the tod acknowledged him softly and, after a kiss, rolled out of bed. Lou yawned, then did the same; as he reached into his closet to dress for the day, he felt Floyd's warm body against his own. It was a benign touch, despite their nudity, and it brought Lou pause and peace. "Hey there," he said quietly, earning a reassuring squeeze from the tod. Just as quickly as it began, Floyd released the deer, and he left for the living room, but not without a morning smooch. Lou chuckled when the fox finally left; it was delightful to have Floyd around like old times. The last thing he saw when he went to bed, and the first when he woke in the morning. He slid on a casual, but handsome outfit, and he stepped out into the living room, where Floyd had just dressed from his duffel bag. Lou thought it was a little bit of a shame to have the fox back in clothes, though he enjoyed Floyd's company both with and without clothing. "So, what's the plan for today, handsome?" Floyd said, smiling fondly at the deer. Lou found the smile infectious, and he returned it, at the same time wrapping his arms around the slender fox. "Ah, you know, one of those fun, packed afternoons," he said, bumping his nose into the quivering, black button of Floyd's own. "Laundry, shopping, and then a surprise or two for my fox..."

Floyd might have found the laundromat boring had he gone on his own, but with Lou, it was another opportunity for closeness and affection. By no means were they an amorous nuisance, but they did sit close together, and they unabashedly held hands - Lou had never heard of any real gay opposition in his town, something he was glad for. They simply shared idle talk and the occasional nuzzle or fond lean on one another; it was a testament to their closeness and their chemistry that an hour and a half of washing and drying went by in the blink of an eye. Floyd even helped the deer to fold his clothes, and he was sparing, but not entirely chaste, with joking remarks about handling his underwear. "So, what now?" Floyd asked, leaning back against somebody else's dryer; he unconsciously found the vibration arousing to some degree, but that wasn't all that he was enjoying, for the sight of the handsome, well-built buck hefting that large, full laundry basket to his flank with just one arm made him want sex all over again, and he was painfully aware of that particular urge. Lou could see it in the tod's eyes, and in a conscious effort to impress and arouse, he made sure to flex his arms and chest, filling out the snug tee he wore. "Groceries, and then I'm gonna take you to the fire station and see about getting you hosed down," he said, keeping a straight face until the last second. Floyd couldn't help but start laughing, entirely in good nature, and Lou started up with him. They giggled their way out of the laundromat, earning a few strange looks, but a few approving ones, too, for they made quite a cute couple.

With the laundry safely stowed in the backseat of his car - with a towel over it, so nobody could see the deer's briefs - Lou and Floyd walked not hand in hand, but nevertheless close by into the grocery store. Not unlike the laundromat, they made a fun, sweet occasion out of a dull, utilitarian trip; they bumped into one another now and again, and they shared gentle, brief kisses when nobody but the lifeless security cameras were looking. In one instance that both the deer and the fox very much enjoyed, Lou lifted the tod up to grab something off the peak of a shelf, which, of course, ended with the fox momentarily held in the buck's arms like a bride. "So, what about those surprises you mentioned?" Floyd asked amiably, his face twisted into a wry, subtly lewd grin. Lou, in the middle of picking out a few cans of soup, glanced at the tod and offered him a smile that was, at best, enigmatic. "Not telling you. You gotta wait." He thought Floyd's expression might sour, if only in a playful way, but it only grew more naughty. "Now I really wanna know," he beamed, wrapping his arms around the buck's flank, gracing the side of his short muzzle with a smooch, "but I guess I can wait."

The pair returned to Lou's apartment, and there, they put away the groceries and the laundry; Lou cooked lunch for the two of them, which was nothing spectacular, but Floyd still graciously ate and generously complimented the chef. Sexual urges aside, they whittled away the afternoon with a little cuddling, a lot of making out, and a few rounds of assorted, competitive video games, all of which Floyd dominated in, offering Lou not even a pity win, but the deer appreciated the brutal honesty. When the clock on the wall finally read seven o'clock, Lou's cell phone alerted him with an alarm, and he enigmatically told Floyd they had to go somewhere; Floyd was curious, but not alarmed, and he did as the deer asked. The moment they were in the car and the pair had buckled up, Lou fished a pitch black blindfold out of his breast pocket; Floyd briefly wondered just how long it had been there, but his face displayed naughtiness rather than curiosity. "Don't tell me we're doing a kidnapping roleplaying thing now," he teased, shooting Lou a toothy grin. The buck grinned back, but his was more benevolent, and his eyes were quite soft. "If that's what you wanna think," he chuckled, tying it around the fox's head, blocking his vision entirely. "Don't you touch that. It's part of your surprise." Floyd started to quip, but Lou silenced him with a kiss - and then he drove off.

Floyd was nothing but silent and rapt in his obedience as Lou drove. He expected nothing malicious from the deer, but he was eagerly curious to know what he had planned. When Lou finally parked and shut the car off, Floyd fidgeted endearingly. What's my deer got up his sleeve? At once, the blindfold came off, and Floyd saw that they were parked near a posh Italian restaurant that he, himself, had remarked about wanting to try the last time he was in town. It was a simultaneously exclusive and casual establishment; the waiting list was said to be many months long, but jeans and t-shirts were considered the norm. Floyd's heart fluttered, and the sheer thoughtfulness of the gesture saw him fervently unbuckle himself and latch onto Lou with a nearly crushing hug and a very wet kiss. Lou smiled lopsidedly and squeezed Floyd back, but he cut the moment short; "Our reservation is up in, like, four minutes. C'mon."

Once inside, the two were quickly seated, and Floyd was stricken with the atmosphere; the candle-lit tables, the gentle and appropriate live music, and the smell of the food were all wonderful, yet having Lou there - and the fact that it was all the buck's doing - made it perfect. Seated at the table, two plates of fresh spaghetti before each of them with a basket of bread and rolls, a candelabrum, and wine nearby, Floyd felt very in love - the feeling was mutual. Lou smiled sheepishly at the fox, at last acknowledging what he'd arranged over the light of the candle. "I wanted to make this visit really special," he said, laying a hand on the table; Floyd smiled fondly, and at the same time, he clutched Lou's hand with his own paw. "Lou, it's always special with you." They ate in verbal silence, but they still spoke with their eyes; the love between the deer and the fox was not easily fabricated, and it wasn't. When the check came, dinner was long over, and they'd since begun their cute banter again, accomplishing little in the way of conversation beyond mutual compliments and many gracious thanks from Floyd over all Lou had done. Floyd didn't dare look at what the occasion had cost Lou, but the buck handed over his credit card without batting an eye. They left hand-in-hand, high off the experience of the dinner, reveling in one another's closeness. Lou opened and closed the car door for Floyd; truthfully, the fox was rendered bashful by that particular gesture, but he felt his heart flutter at the notion.

"That was wonderful," Floyd said softly, watching the road and the lights of the city night passing by through the windshield. "Yeah," Lou said with dreamy affection, glancing over at Floyd for only a second. Even if the tod wasn't looking his way, seeing his handsome face brought a smile to the deer's lips. "So," Floyd started, straightening out in his seat, "you said surpris_es_. You know, plural. What else am I in for?" he chuckled, glancing at the buck. "Well, you behaved through dinner," Lou murmured, bringing a smirk to Floyd's lips, "so I guess I can tell you. I figured a movie could be fun. Y'know, big bowl of popcorn, some cheesy one-liners and lots of guns, and ignoring all of the above so we can make out in a dark room." Floyd's smirk turned into a grin, and he laughed. "You really thought all of this through, huh? Sounds like a date to me."

The theater Lou pulled up boasted all of the latest movies, and the fact that they ran until the wee hours of the morning - not to mention free refills on popcorn and drinks, which was always a plus. There in the lobby, they leaned on one another and put considerable thought into the movie they wanted to see; in the end, they went for that year's action blockbuster, full of blood, violence, guns, and sex - the perfect movie to watch for ten minutes, then ignore while making out. With a nearly literal tub of popcorn and a colossal drink, the couple made their way into the theater, where they quickly found their seats. They sat side-by-side, the popcorn in Lou's lap, the drink in Floyd's paws, and they shared with one another freely, frequently finding it cute to feed one another pieces of popcorn. Beyond the opening credits, Floyd's attention had already begun to wane, though Lou's had not quite reached that point of atrophy; as Floyd nibbled and kissed up the deer's neck, he was still lost in rapt attention. "You killed my whole family," said the gruff protagonist, while the camera peered down the unmistakably phallic barrel of his shotgun - someone was about to get shot in a fantastic display of fake blood and CGI, yet Lou did not get to see it; Floyd, fast growing endearingly impatient, forced the deer into an impassioned kiss, yet another wrestling match of tongues, and a copious exchange of saliva. For just a moment, Lou was upset for not getting to see the violence he'd paid six dollars to see, but it passed quickly, and he held Floyd close. Neither of them would remember how the movie ended.

By the time they at last made it back to Lou's apartment, it was well beyond midnight; the nearly boundless energy the pair felt through dinner, the movie, and all of that driving was gone the moment they passed the apartment's threshold, and all that seemed appealing was the bed - for sleeping, not sex. "I don't know about you," Lou said, a lie considering how tired Floyd's face visibly was, "but I'm ready to sleep for a day or two." The tod, ordinarily so very bright and alert, if not casual and coy, could barely keep his eyes open. In between overwhelming yawns, he nodded to Lou in acknowledgment, and they fell into the deer's bed, pausing beforehand only to shed their clothing, which they left in a haphazard pile. Just as soundly as ever, they slept; Floyd found himself nestled against Lou's flank, his head against the toned, rising and falling bulk of his chest. Sleep eluded Lou more than it did Floyd, but only by a short margin; for several content minutes, he listened to the vulpine's relaxed breathing, and he savored the stillness of the moment. In that intimate closeness, Lou felt very, truly happy, and he shortly joined Floyd in peaceful rest.

Floyd, ever the alert critter of the night, awoke before the sun - and well before Lou. With a glance over Lou's body, he saw the face of the digital clock, and it read 5:19. Though the room was dark, lit a terse green by only the dull, monochrome face of the alarm clock, Floyd naturally had eyes adapted to seeing in such low light, and with those night-stalking eyes, he could see that the haphazardly-covered deer suffered from his morning wood. Under other circumstances, Floyd would have simply gone back to sleep and saved the sexual antics for later in the day, but that afternoon, he'd be on the first train back home - and so, with no time like the present to have Lou close, he felt no guilt in the fact that he was about to awaken the very tired buck. Gently, Floyd cast off the rest of the covers - what they hadn't unconsciously squirmed out of or swatted away in the night - and he gracefully straddled the nude buck. Lou didn't wake up, but Floyd hadn't even begun; with only a brief glance at his work, he slid his hips back, and he shivered when the deer's swollen, pink shaft nestled its' way between the cuddly heat of his rump cheeks - a little early-morning hotdogging was good for any relationship. Lou uttered only a small noise of pleasure, an unconscious mumbling, but it was promising; his strong hands awkwardly came to rest on Floyd's body, one on the tod's hip, another on his leg, and though they knew not what they touched, Floyd savored the feeling. Leaning down low, he planted his lips against Lou's, and in a gesture fit for fairy tale romance, the kiss brought the deer gently from his sleep. Just opening his eyes, he returned that tender smooch; with his tired eyes ironically unaccustomed to the darkness, Lou could make out only the rough features of Floyd's face and the gleam of his eyes, but that was all he needed. Squeezing the tod close, enjoying a brief, fond grind of muzzles, Lou rumbled with pleasure. "Morning, baby," he whispered to the fox, gracing his cheek with a kiss. "Right back at you, handsome," Floyd said quietly, lifting his hips, scooting back but a few inches before lowering them right back down again, this time so that the blunt, pre-drooling tip of Lou's swollen manhood pushed against the pink pucker that was his tail hole. When he eased his way down, he shuddered and pressed yet closer to Lou, seeking reassurance, love, and warmth, earning all of that in abundance from the handsome buck; their lovemaking was slow and gentle, so much so that Lou never fully awoke, but Floyd appreciated the dull, loving compliance that he exhibited in such a state. When their mutual climax came, they stayed close, and beyond lifting his hips so the deer's flaccid meat could exit him, Floyd didn't leave his closeness again, not until the morning sun at last roused them from sleep and bed a few hours later.

In their content rest, Floyd wound up once more at the buck's side - how he shifted off of the deer without either of them waking up was a mystery nobody would ever solve. Lou woke with the sun, but Floyd, evidently the more tired creature, stayed asleep. The deer saw it as a fine opportunity to show his affections in other ways; in this case, with breakfast in bed. He awoke the tod with a small, but well-rounded meal; eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice, a bounty Floyd was moved to a bashful grin at the sight of. "Nobody treats me like you do," said the tod, his tone respectful and quiet, exuding little of the overwhelming affection and gratitude he felt, though Lou knew it was there. He sat beside the tod and watched with a happy, content smile at the sight of his eating, though he did steal a piece of bacon here and there. "You're telling me you never get breakfast in bed?" the deer asked, pressing his nude flank up against Floyd's own, earning a rumbling, playfully pleasurable growl from the tod. "That friend I told you about did this for me the last time I was sick," Floyd said offhandedly, turning his eyes on Lou for a protracted, fond gaze, "but this is the first time in a long time somebody's just done it for me. Thanks, babe..."

That day proved more somber than the others, for Floyd would be returning home that afternoon, but that wasn't to say they were melancholy. Just like the day before, they played games and cuddled up close, chatting and gossiping, exchanging idle compliments and sweet nothings when the more cerebral conversation washed up. They fell asleep in a content nap in the afternoon, the punishment for staying out so late and getting up so early - Floyd's phone awoke the two of them with a sudden alarm, an important memo in his schedule, telling him he needed to get on his way to the train station; Lou didn't need to hear another word, and as soon as he grabbed his car keys, he and Floyd were on their way.

It was a half-hour's walk to the train station, and so it made for a short drive, but it was still an opportunity for them to speak and enjoy one another a little bit more. "I had a great time," Lou said, reaching over to pat the tod's thigh, allowing the fox's handsome face to distract him from the slow stop-and-go of town for just a brief moment. "I did too," Floyd said back, a toothy, yet genuinely happy smile parting his lips. "Some things could've gone better," he mused, letting it hang in the air for just a moment, "like me wiping the floor with you at Halo, but the dinners, the hanging out, the sex, it was all so much fun, sweetheart. I can't wait to do it all again." Lou squeezed fondly on the tod's thigh - he wished he could have just turned the car around and taken him home, but that was simply not an option. When the train station came into view, he felt his heart sink a little bit, and with a glance over at Floyd, he knew the tod felt the same way; Lou walked with him to the boarding platform, where they shared a protracted embrace and a long, fond kiss. Smoothly, the doors on the myriad passenger cars slid open, and it was time for Floyd to go. As the tod pulled away from Lou, he flashed the buck a smile, forcing away the blatant sadness in his eyes, for Lou involuntarily returned it. "You and me, we're gonna do this again in a couple months. Promise." As he backpedaled to the train car, Lou said nothing, but he mouthed his reply: promise. When the train quietly scooted away, its' electric motors a far cry from the unmistakable chug of a steam locomotive, Lou caught a glimpse of the handsome tod in the window, still smiling - and Lou renewed his smile. He had every reason to be happy.

Floyd always kept his promises.

--Chapter II: Saul

Lou did the dishes just as effectively as ever, but without Floyd not-so-accidentally bumping into him and gladly sharing the burden of pruned flesh and dried-out fur, it was more boring than ever. No matter what promise the fox had made him, Lou simply missed him - Floyd filled a hole in his heart and gave him companionship, with love to match lust, something he didn't consider himself deserving of, not after what he had done. Not after cheating. On some nights, where Lou couldn't push away the self-abuse, he thought that if he'd never met the skunk, he would have simply cheated with somebody else; he started to degrade into those thoughts when the phone rang. It could have been anybody, he told himself - the landlord, the dancers he was collaborating with, maybe even Floyd again. He dropped the fistful of silverware he was rinsing into the murky, sudded depths of the sink, tersely dried his hands on a kitchen towel nearby, and he snatched up the phone a moment before it handed the call over to his answering machine. "Hey, it's Lou," he huffed into the phone, his voice hurried and just a little bit dull, making it obvious he hadn't expected, or necessarily wanted, to answer the phone. "I was starting to wonder if you'd ever pick up," came the sultry tones of the skunk, Saul - the tempting tainter in all of Lou's little mental fairytales. Lou had been forced to run for the phone, and so he quietly panted, a noise that always sounded unintentionally lewd over the phone, no matter what. Saul picked up that ball and ran with it almost immediately. "Panting, obvious distraction, barely making it to the phone - I guess I called at the perfect time, didn't I?" Lou imagined the skunk with a straight face, while another person would've been grinning and giggling in immaturity - just one of the many traits that made Saul impossible to quit, like a hard drug.

"I wasn't--," Lou grunted, suddenly much too aware of his panting, which he consciously ceased. "I was just drying my hands." On the other end of the phone, he heard a chuckle, one laced with sexuality. "Is that so? So you really were thinking of me, were you?" Saul asked with a coo in his tone, those sharp words momentarily shaming Lou into dumbfounded silence. "I have some plans for tonight, Lou - would you like to be a part of them?" Lou felt his cheeks growing hot with blush, and just like being in puberty again, he was stricken with a raging erection, one that came without warning. "Mmhm," he replied, clutching the phone tighter than ever. Saul paused, then chuckled in that way of his. "Good, good. I'm going to a place I like to spend some of my evenings in - it's a trashy, sweaty hole, full of debauchery and half-undressed men desperately grinding on one another. I think you and I might show them how it's done," he said in what could only be described as a sultry purr, and then he paused, allowing all of that to sink into Lou's head. At the tail end of this thoughtful moment, he rattled off the address of the nameless underground club, which the deer fervently scrawled on a scrap of paper. "Come around eight, Lou. I'll be waiting for you," said Saul, his tone once more a sweet coo, one laced with aural sex in its' purest form. "You know I will," Lou said, taking great pains not to growl like an oversexed animal. "I do," Saul confirmed, afterward hanging up on his end. Lou called the dancers he spent his Friday nights rehearsing with. Though they needed to confirm their moves for the weekend's competition, something more important had come up, he assured them, and that he wouldn't call off such an important recital for anything frivolous. With his evening freed for Saul, Lou glanced at the clock; it said 2:36 PM. He forgot about the dishes - it was time to hurry up and wait.

When Lou showed up to the club, he couldn't help but shake his head - Saul knew how to pick them, that much was for sure. Just on the outskirts of town, it brought life to an old concrete shell of a building, and it gave any number of horny guys a place to be themselves - or to be somebody else entirely. The queue line outside was short, but the ever-dutiful bouncer turned away those he didn't approve of - Lou, however, got his approval, and after a quick twenty dollars, the deer made his way inside. Lou thought the party was on the first floor, but no; that was just home to the smoking, the chatting, and a drunken, guitar-driven singalong. The true club was downstairs, in the basement. Once down the stairs, Lou pushed his way through a set of double-doors on loose hinges, and he emerged into a sprawling den of rotten sex and overblown debauchery - in other words, a great place to be on a Friday night. From all around, music with an unmistakable oohn-tss! beat spurred anyone and everyone with even an ounce of rhythm to move and shake; Lou felt that affliction, perhaps instinctively, but he resisted it. There was only one reason he was there, and it was Saul. The buck wandered through the club's main floor, and as he searched for Saul, he took in the atmosphere of it all. Most abundantly clear, and adding the most to the dirty appeal of the place, were the chain-link fences hastily bound to gaps where drywall and plywood once made partitions, intended now to block off the staffed places like the bar and the tattoo parlor. A cloud of smoke hung overhead, spawned from cigarettes, cigars, and more dubious things, but the scent of sweat and musk drowned out the stink of nicotine and pot. The patrons themselves were impossible to miss; writhing around, avoiding the concept of elbow room in favor of grinding into each other, Lou felt smothered, but strangely comfortable. Dozens, maybe hundreds of strangers, all male, all in various stages of undress, inebriation, and arousal - none mutually exclusive. Every single one was fine to look at in his own way, and Lou, the handsome man he was, could have had pick of the litter, but there was only one person there for him. He felt paws on his body, rubbing here and groping there, and without shame, he returned those touches when the urge occurred to him, but he didn't let himself get carried away. Not when the finest lay of his life was waiting somewhere for him.

Many moments of seemingly hopeless searching passed, but then Lou saw him. Standing by the bar, Saul's presence was clear, but not exaggerated; dressed in a way to inspire erections and drooling without giving it away, the skunk dressed in jeans that accentuated every facet of his slender legs and matching hips, but his fine behind was teasingly obscured by the luxuriously plush fluff of his tail. Snug to his torso was a beater, a simple article, but a damned effective way of exclaiming his twinkish body style, yet he skilfully averted such blunt sluttiness with a hoodie, unzipped and partially shed, obfuscating the finer points of his upper body while leaving some glaringly obvious. To the untrained eye, such an outfit might have seemed haphazard, but anybody who knew the skunk, for better or for worse, knew that it was all intentional. Sliding past a few writhing bodies, Lou emerged before Saul with a small smile. Saul smiled back, the expression benign, the eyes lewd and intense, for he was undressing the deer with them. Jeans just as tight as his own, and a very snug tee that accentuated the toned musculature of his body - very casual, but there was nothing wrong with that. It suited the buck perfectly. "Hi, Lou," he said, beckoning the deer closer with his tone alone. Lou would have pressed flush to the skunk even without invitation, but he did so eagerly all the same. Up against the bar, Lou let his pelvis rest against it, where as Saul's behind was pressed into it, leaving the two of them side-by-side. Almost like the beginnings of an intimate tango, Lou wrapped an arm around Saul's slender body, under the hoodie and over the beater; similarly, Saul half-hugged the buck, his discerning fingers finding purchase on the buck's hip. "How'd you find a hole like this?" Lou asked, glancing at the skunk with coy eyes - at the same time, he nodded to the bartender. "It's a secret," the skunk cooed, delivering a grope to the buck's jean-clad hip.

The bartender who came up - a half dozen were on duty that night - was a skunk himself, but unlike Saul's sophistication, he was anything but subtle. Tall, buff, pierced ears, a tough face, and eyes tougher than that, he was a handsome brute, but Saul had effortlessly earned a few free drinks; with Lou at his side, that ended, but that was fine. Saul didn't like being a cheapskate. "I'd like a beer," Lou said, earning a nod from the bartender. "Make that two," Saul added, looking intently at, but not speaking to, Lou. As the skunk behind the bar fetched their bottles, the one in front of it pulled himself tighter to Lou's form, and he graced the buck's thigh with a subtle grind. "I knew you'd find me," he said with a noise not unlike a purr in his chest, but it didn't lend itself to romanticism or dreaminess; he spoke with confidence, not affection. Lou was handed his beer by the bartender, who popped the caps off of the both of them on the spot. After a quick drink, Lou turned his eyes on Saul, his lips twisted into a smile. "It was easy," he said, drawing up his hand that rested on the skunk's hip, gracing his slender stomach with a stroke. "You were the only person in here not whimpering and rubbing against everything that moves." Saul momentarily grinned wryly, pressing yet harder into the buck, teasing one of his ears with a lick and a hot breath. "You say that like you've never whimpered and desperately rubbed against me," the skunk said, his tones sultry and smooth - though unremarkable, for Saul idled at sultry and smooth. Lou grinned, but he blushed, too - Saul had his number, and he was painfully aware of it, but that was part of the fun of that skunk.

Saul leaned in close, as if for a kiss, but he instead delivered a gentle nip to the buck's jawline, and then a few more down to his neck. It was all heinously teasing and very sexual; from it, Lou shuddered and grunted, and he quite roughly took a handful of the skunk's behind. That fine, black and white ass was not something easily resisted, and he squeezed down upon it. More than groping it, he wished he could have gotten his fingers down under that denim, but there was just no hope of that, not as tight as those pants were. "Smell all of that lust and sweat," Saul grinned, easing back from the deer so he could grab his own beer, from which he took a few small drinks. "Mhm," Lou answered, following it with a hungry lick of his lips. Once more, he sized up the skunk - everything about him was simply sex. There was no other word that more accurately described him, and acknowledging what a sultry creature was in his future made him very thirsty, so he tossed back a few long gulps of his beer. The sight brought a little smile to Saul's lips, who set down his own beer, barely touched. "If you're gonna drink like that," the skunk said, beckoning the bartender, "let's do something harder." The bartender skunk heard only that, and that was just fine; he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from beneath the counter, followed by a pair of shot glasses, and he poured the both of them full. Lou briefly grinned at Saul, an expression the skunk met with just a small smile. Both creatures downed their shots - Lou almost coughed, but Saul was nonplussed by the burn in his throat, and just as quickly, he asked the bartender for another two.

That second round was followed by a third, but those drinks sat neglected on the bar's surface. With the whiskey already taking hold, Lou started to exhibit a far more aggressive side, which wasn't something Saul had any real problem with. He felt the deer's squeezing, groping hand upon his crotch, squeezing the thick meat that waited there - unlike the average twink, Saul was packing. It was a gesture the skunk met with a lewd rumble of pleasure, but not one he returned just yet; first, he drank his third shot. With the alcohol still burning in his throat, he shuddered and forced himself upon the buck. They first shared a kiss, but it was shallow, and at the tail-end of it, Saul bit and nibbled the buck's lip. Then, with both smooth and supple paws, he reached up beneath the tight fabric of the deer's shirt, tracing over the creased flesh of his musculature and tweaking his nipples, rendered stiff with arousal. Lou shuddered and grunted, and his hands, the both of them squeezing the skunk's hips, groped down that much tighter, as if in competition. Saul loved that touch, those strong hands touching him, manhandling him, but most of all, worshiping him in their own way. He freed his soft mitts from beneath heated confines of the buck's shirt, and he pressed close, chest-to-chest, pelvis-to-pelvis; the gesture exuded affection while simultaneously bastardizing it, and that made Lou shudder and kiss the skunk. "Enjoying yourself, my deer?" Saul grinned, wrapping his slender arms around the buck's handsome body. Lou grinned back, both at the pun and the very situation. "With you, always," he answered, his tone not sweet, but matter-of-fact. He reached for his shot on the counter, and, without pulling away from Saul in the least, he gulped it down. Saul felt the way Lou's body shuddered as the whiskey burned its' way down his throat, and he acknowledged a little pang of playful indignity; if anything was going to make the deer shudder that night, it would be him.

Saul felt very content and perfect for what he had in mind next; with the whiskey so subtly dulling his senses and rendering everything suitably blurred and dreamy, he brushed past the deer, but pulled him along by his wrist. Ever entranced, Lou followed without question, and Saul led the two of them out into the dance floor, marked informally by the largest mass of writhing, sweating bodies, the rows of speakers and subwoofers, and the strobing rainbows of lights. To defeat the deafening, energetic pulse of the music, Saul pushed his lips down into the buck's ear just to be heard, but it had the added effect of making him shiver. "Remember when I said we needed to show them how it was done?" As Saul pulled back, he wasn't sure the deer had heard him anyway, but he proved that he certainly had. Both Lou and Saul were dancers to begin with, and that talent lent itself well to the lewdness that shortly ensued. Even buzzed, the two had a distinct grace as they teasingly bumped and ground into one another, but while their bodies were smooth and subtle as they moved, their hands and paws were anything but. They took great, brash handfuls of one another, groping anything and everything erotic; thighs, behinds, and most of all, erections. For all of Saul's inappropriate touching, Lou was fast left huffing and panting, his musk beyond obvious, his libido similarly blunt; Saul, for all his style and sophistication, couldn't help but moan and blush as Lou's strong hands took thorough inventory of his body. For just a moment, Saul was at a loss as to what should come next; something had to make it just a little bit better, and maybe even outrageous - he saw precisely what he needed out of the corner of his eye, behind Lou's back. It was a makeshift dancer's pole; once an inconspicuous way to feed lines down to the basement, it, like the building itself, had a newer, darker purpose. Saul grinned.

Like leading a partner in an elaborate dance - a descriptor that wasn't far off the mark - Saul ushered Lou towards that pole, until his back bumped into it. It brought the deer a moment of pause, interrupting the nearly incessant rubbing and teasing, but he sized it up quickly, and it seemed he had the same revelation as the skunk. Lou had to admit that working a pole was a new one to him, especially with a partner, but it proved to be an interesting experience. Lewd creatures spurred on by one another, Saul and Lou kissed, rubbed, and groped as they writhed their way around that pole, marking themselves as the most interesting thing going on in the dance floor. It didn't take the two handsome creatures long to attract a very dedicated crowd; from all around, desperate paws groped and rubbed the deer and the skunk. In the sexual insanity of it all, Saul's hoodie disappeared, and in short order, the buck's shirt was peeled off of his body. Neither of them cared; clothes were replaceable, but the lust of that moment was one of a kind. Lou pulled the skunk's beater off, and he tossed it to the hungry, proverbial wolves that circled around and begged for just a touch. Saul pressed close to Lou, and they briefly kissed; however short it was, their tongues locked and lapped on one another, but Saul wasn't prepared to let the deer have it all, and he demonstrated this teasing; when he felt an alien paw upon the throbbing flesh of his erection, Saul grabbed it by the wrist, and then he pulled that lucky man close. A wolf, a handsome, well-built man just like Lou, and similarly undressed, he quickly became the sole focus of Saul's lust and attention - so he thought, at least. He pressed close to the lupine hunk, and though he gave no kisses, he intently squeezed and rubbed the turgid, knotted flesh of the wolf's cock through the tented pants he wore. It left the wolf grunting and growling, ruthlessly fondling the seductive skunk's ass, desperately stroking the fluff of his tail. The skunk looked back at Lou, and he fixed the deer in his pretty gaze; the smile he treated Lou with said everything. Want me? Work for it. Lou licked his lips and shuddered; Saul was his.

With aggression that made Saul grow imperceptibly more aroused, Lou attacked. With one strong arm, he clutched Saul close to his body; with the other, he planted his palm in the wolf's chest, and he shoved the lupine away. That wolf was seconds from showing his teeth, but Saul nonchalantly looked his way and shrugged. Spoken for - what can I say? It was such a neutering look that the wolf, thoroughly used, his purpose over, disappeared quietly into the crowd. Lou availed himself to Saul with a kiss, one severely lacking in affection, fueled only by outspoken lust. He shoved his tongue into the skunk's mouth, and he lapped over that ribbed palate and his pointed teeth, coaxing a grunt and a moan from the cool skunk - that domination was unspeakably arousing. Lou's possessiveness was not a force for the average man to trifle with, but Saul played it like a puppet, expertly abusing it to get just what he wanted. For only that moment of kissing and raunchy, rhythmic grinding, the skunk submitted, giving it up fully to the deer, but Lou wasn't stupid, he knew Saul's submission wasn't without a caveat - and he didn't really care. He felt the mustelid's slender paws stroking down the naked creases of his toned chest, the smooth plane of his stomach, and the vulgar bulge of his cock. He shuddered and rumbled, delivering those noises directly into the skunk's maw. With the deer's throbbing male pride in hand, Saul squeezed and groped intensely, kneading that need, his favor returned with fervent suckles upon his mouth and strokes down his bare back and fluffy, sensitive tail. When Lou at last broke the kiss off, his eyes were narrow, but his pupils were colossal; the skunk pecked his lips with a kiss, and then he dragged the deer off. The club had gotten its' little peepshow; they were finished showing them just how it was done.

Lou was surprised to find a fire exit from the basement, but Saul knew exactly where it was, and he led the handsome deer through by the hand. It was no surprise to find others outside, smoking cigarettes, sharing harder drugs, making out and talking - nothing there interested the deer or the skunk, only each other. Saul dragged Lou around the corner, into the gutted remains of an alley between the building-turned-nightclub and the wrecked shell of another office complex. In the cover of the darkness, away from prying eyes but ever in danger of a wandering, curious soul's discovery, Lou and Saul kissed and stroked harder than ever before. In the chilled air of the night, their hot bodies nearly steamed just as their breath already did. With an air of dominance surprising for a twink but entirely natural for Saul, the skunk pinned the toned deer against the wall of the club, and he peppered the handsome buck's neck and jawline with kisses and nips. With his soft paws, he freed the deer's member, that throbbing, drooling, flesh, and he started to pump it hard and fast. Lou grimaced and hissed through clenched teeth, and with an air of sexual hunger, he nipped at the skunk's round ears with his flat teeth. Saul was quiet as he stroked the deer; he was not at a loss for smart words, he simply had no desire for them. Nothing could have enhanced the situation, and nothing was precisely what he said. Lou was not so silent, however, whispering little things into Saul's ears in between his gentle nips and threatened gnaws. They were, indeed, nothings; they made very little sense outside of the context of hurried, back-alley sex, and they promised no affection or loyalty to Saul - they simply assured the skunk of what he already knew, which was, of course, that he was the finest lay of Lou's life, and most likely the most sexually desirable creature on the planet. Old news, Saul thought, momentarily palming the blunt, oozing knob of Lou's cock, twisting his lips into a grin at the quaking moan the deer erupted with. But I like to hear it anyway.

The harder Saul worked the deer, the more he grunted and groaned, the more he hissed those bittersweet words that dripped with sex, and the more his bulging manhood dripped with its' musky slime. Saul knew the buck wasn't far off, and he wasn't going to deny him his climax, not so far into it, not like that. He knew for a fact that Lou would have much more to give than just one orgasm; the night was young, their bodies were hard and hot, and their sex drives were still at only an idle. Saul clutched the buck's scrotum with one paw, and he fervently stroked with the other; in his slender, smooth paw, he went all the way down to the base, and all the way up to the tip - in between his more vigorous strokes, he resumed that firm, immensely gratifying palming, grinding his soft paw into the big, drooling knob of the deer's tip. Lou's huffing and heaving only intensified; like a demon, he snorted steam and scraped his fingernails into the cement wall behind him, his toned chest heaving. With the onset of a climax, his balls drew up close to his body - once hanging low, a testament to the heat of his own body, even in that cold air - and he thrust his hips into the skunk's soft mitt. Saul could only grin as Lou cut the air with a muffled, but heady groan, though that expression mellowed into more of an expectant smirk as the deer shot his load. A colossal mess, it was quite typical for Lou - in Saul's presence, at least. Through the deer's climax and well into the huffing bliss of his afterglow, Saul still rubbed the buck's member, yet with considerably less intention to please; by then, it was simply a courtesy. "Are we done now?" Saul casually asked, his smirk, by then, only a coy smile. Even with only an ounce of composure after his climax, Lou managed to grin. "With you? Never."

So far out in town, Lou and Saul were only a short walk from the de facto red light district; porn shops, happy-ending massage parlors, and liquor stores abounded, and the deer and skunk were hardly the only patrons of the underground club that found themselves at that sector of town. Saul briefly wondered where he and Lou might head next, what would have been a good place to get down to the real business, but Lou, post-handjob and ready for more, was as sharp as a tack - there was only one place that could've made sex with that skunk better, and he led him there by the paw. Saul thought the place Lou took him to was almost surreal - a sauna-slash-hotel, private rooms full of steam and sweat - but the more he thought about the concept, the more it seemed to be simply right. All that baffled him was how Lou knew about the place. The deer paid for a room with his credit card; when they asked how long he'd like the room, he told them to bill him by the hour. Saul grinned.

Lou unlocked the door to their room, and they stepped into precisely what Saul expected; the room was but a small cube with wooden benches against the three walls away from the door, each more than wide enough for a pair of writhing bodies. At the center of the room, as with any sauna, a pile of smooth rocks smouldered, their surfaces freshly moistened and whisping steam into the already-heated air. After coming in from the cold air outside, Lou and Saul felt very comfortable in the humid heat, though they didn't relish the warmth for too long; Lou kicked the door shut, and then he slid closed the bolt. Exuding feral dominance, the deer kissed Saul hard and heavy, and he fumbled briefly with the skunk's zipper and button before undoing them. As carelessly as Lou undid them, Saul wiggled out of those jeans and kicked them away, his lower half clad only in a thong that left exposed the taut curve of his behind, the shapely lengths of his legs, and the outline of his swollen, throbbing member - Saul was blessed with a dick fit for a man twice his size, yet he was probably more deserving of such an endowment simply for his charm. Lou, no stranger to the skunk's nudity, freed and took hold of that pink meat; subtly mirroring the handjob Saul had given him, he stroked and palmed, but nowhere near to the same extent, for his intention was only to tease - the real pleasure would come shortly. Saul, still taking - and to some degree, reversing - the deer's hungry kiss, undid the buck's jeans just as his own had been dealt with; he unzipped and unbuttoned them, and he tugged them down past the deer's hips, where gravity did the rest of the work in dragging them to the floor. Beneath, Lou had on only his boxers; as much as Saul would have enjoyed leaving those on and teasing the buck through them, they were well past such benign sexuality, so the skunk slid them down to join the rest of their clothes on the floor. The both of them naked, sweating, and hard as iron, they broke off the kiss, and they hurriedly made their way to one of the benches. Lou sat first, and Saul straddled his lap, but not with the intention to impale himself. Things were rarely that simple with him.

While making such a grand affair of sucking upon the buck's open maw again that night, Saul did allow his thong-clad behind to grind teasingly into the throbbing, erect flesh of Lou's manhood, not at all fazed by its' earlier climax; that had merely been foreplay for somebody as fuckable as Lou. The deer took hold of the skunk's ass cheeks in tightly-groping, masculine hands, his fingertips digging into the fur and the supple flesh, a squeeze that coaxed a gentle moan from Saul, but a lewd grin to offset it. The way Saul freed himself from the kiss, he left so very much to be desired for Lou; as he withdrew his tongue, he let it drag against the buck's lower lip, a lip he afterward graced with a gentle, tugging gnaw. "You're a tease," Lou said, his voice an unstable growl. Saul, emitting a sultry purr, let his short, soft muzzle grind into the deer's own. "Am I, now?" Saul whispered, his slender paws rubbing over great, possessive swatches of the buck's toned form, over the blades of his shoulders and beneath his armpits in aimless, symmetrical strokes of worship. "Here I am, Lou, nearly nude in your lap - and you're being passive. Maybe I'm waiting for you to interrupt my teasing." It was something Lou hadn't thought of; for all of he skunk's cerebral antics, the teasing, the games, the roundabout gratification, maybe it was finally time to get what he really wanted. Bearing a smile laced with lewd sexuality and maybe even a little drunken, horny malice, Lou palmed the slender cheeks of the skunk's ass, and then he took hold of the slender waistband of that thong. Even with the skunk in his lap like so, he peeled it downwards, eventually spurring the well-hung twink to rise up and slip it off the rest of the way himself. With their usual contempt for clothing around one another, Saul flung it away into the haphazard pile that contained the rest of their attire, and he pushed his slender behind against the buck's turgid shaft, teasing it with smooth flesh and downy fur. Under different circumstances, Lou might have endured the teasing a little bit longer, but he couldn't - and that was exactly what Saul was hoping for.

With the object of his lust - no affection whatever, for Lou was careful to make the distinction - squarely in his grasp, Lou squeezed the conniving skunk by the hips, and he pinned him hard to the wooden benches. As Lou made to straddle the bench, and as he clutched that swollen, thick member of his to bury it in the skunk, he became vaguely aware of the fact that something besides the liquor and Saul's own irresistible sexuality had a stranglehold on his libido; it was that room itself. To the untrained, conscious nose, it smelled clean, but to a creature so horny, so pent-up, so frequently laid and familiar with the smells of sex, the residual musk and sweat in the room was overwhelming. He could smell dozens of raunchy encounters in that room; both genders, countless species, all unidentifiable, but all just as worked-up as he and Saul were at that particular moment. He could see the glaze in Saul's eyes, too, the hold of inebriation beyond alcohol; no matter how cool Saul could present himself, he was just as lost in that miasma of raw sex, and that could only make things better. Grinning down at his handsome, black-and-white lay, Lou pushed the blunt, drooling tip of his cock against the waiting pucker of the skunk's asshole, a very snug orifice that the buck never tired of. He slowly sank his impressive manhood, coaxing a gratified groan and a few matching huffs from Saul, not to mention a reverent - but always with that looming possessiveness - caress down his heaving, toned chest. Lou buried his ten inches of manhood in the skunk in a very short time, something the crafty twink took with notable ease; Lou only grinned wider as his hips pressed flush to the prostrate behind of the very smooth, very sexual skunk, who took hold of him - by the rack, no less - and pulled him down for a kiss to make the ones at the bar look like fond pecks between cousins. The deer and the skunk hungrily slathered one another's maws in thick saliva, their tongues leaving no flesh of gum, cheek, or palate in either mouth unmolested, and in that heated, depraved kiss, Lou started to grind his hips; the feeling of Saul's tight, tender anal flesh upon his aching manhood was a sexual delight, and even with that handjob in such recent memory, he wasn't sure he could take it for long; Saul was the best he'd ever had, and it was as simple as that.

Lou knew how to fuck; Saul knew it, as did anybody who was lucky enough to spend a night with a deer. He could expertly balance his own wants with his partner's needs, ensuring that everybody left the occasion happy and considerably less stressed - the key word was could, however, since Lou didn't feel much, if any, sense of duty to consider the skunk's feelings or wants. I'm all you want anyway, he told himself in a smug thought, one no-doubt spurred by cheap liquor and literally steamy sex. He didn't feel a single pang of remorse as he pounded his strong hips into the skunk's taut behind again and again, and even less as he slapped his tongue possessively about in the conniving twink's maw. Beneath, and into his own mouth, he could hear and feel the skunk's grunts and growls brought on by such great sex, and the subtle winces and whimpers when he pushed in too hard or hit just the right spot; the line between pleasure and pain was a thin one when it came to getting fucked in the ass, even for someone as experienced - though not slutty - as Saul was, but that discomfort was just a part of the experience, especially with a man so large. Abandoning much of his composure for the sake of being an excellent lay, Saul pushed his slender body back into the buck's grinding, lifting thrusts, but his paws, ever calm and possessive, stroked and caressed the deer's hot, sweating flesh, stroking through soft, but matted fur to do so. Lou shuddered at the feeling of the skunk both inside and out; through and through, Saul was a sensual and sexy creature, an incredible fuck, and a dauntingly intelligent mind, though the deer only admired the two former points. In much the same way, Saul didn't much care about Lou's caring heart or charming personality.

It was fast dawning on Lou just how close his second - but probably not final - climax was coming up on him. He'd gotten so carried away with pounding the skunk's invitingly tight ass, savoring his little touches and the feeling of that sucking mouth on his tongue, but just as he had acknowledged before, he didn't feel bad about simply taking what he wanted, since that breezy, uncaring, no-strings-attached sex went both ways. Pulling out of the kiss, one Saul only slightly prolonged with a nip on the tip of the buck's tongue, Lou shuddered and grunted, his hips laboriously grinding into the skunk's rump, his pulsating meat dragging against taut, writhing anal flesh. "Shit," Lou huffed through grimacing teeth, his studly body hunkered down over the effeminate form of the skunk. "Aah, almost done, are we?" Saul asked between hurried grunts and huffs of his own, though his face was ever plastered with a grin, one that was just barely toothy. "Remember what I said earlier?" Lou managed to say, just briefly returning the skunk's grin before he defaulted back into that very sexy oh-face grimace. Squeezing so hard on the lacquered wooden bench that he thought he might break it into splinters, Lou huffed and grunted his way to the threshold of a potent climax. Every thrust of his hips battered the skunk's slender rump so much that, between the laminated surface of the bench and his own sweat, Saul would have slid if not for his possessive, hugging grip on the buck's torso. Mmh, yeah, Lou could hear him say, the skunk's words distant to his ears, for all he could really focus on was the inevitable bliss which finally struck him. The sensation of that orgasm shot through him, manifesting as a full-body shudder and a very deep moan, while the true product of his climax slopped into the skunk's ass in great, thick ropes, a very respectable amount for a man of his size, an unheard of load for someone who came so recently, but merely a symptom of Lou's masculinity. Saul shuddered as that penetrating warmth filled him, covering his snug, anal walls in heated, viscous slime. He released the deer, then fell slack to the bench. The both of them panted hard, and to the average peeping tom, they would be mistaken for being done, but they were far from it. Sandwiched between Lou's washboard and Saul's smooth belly was the skunk's own penis, its' thick, pink flesh swollen, throbbing, and dripping with pre; it would not settle for a second-prize handjob, or even some muzzle-loving from the deer. It knew exactly what it wanted, and Saul wrapped his paws around just that; Lou's taut, handsome ass.

Lou acknowledged the skunk's wanting grope, and willingly deferred to it, for in the afterglow of his second climax, he was compliant, and maybe even a little bit submissive - to a cunning creature as subtly commanding as Saul, his deference was easy and performed without shame. He slid free of the skunk's loosened, but not entirely wrecked asshole, and he flopped back on the bench with a huff. His shaft, already half-flaccid, but ready for action at a moment's notice, flopped with an audible slap! upon his belly, whereupon it left a slippery wad of discarded jism. "As wonderful as ever," Saul cooed, sitting up, ignoring the queer - both figurative and literal, he supposed - sensation of the deer's manly load oozing from him. "Mmh, yeah," Lou chuckled, oh so slowly sitting up, his motions temporarily weary and slow; the sex and the liquor was catching up with him, but he was merely down, not out. Saul knew, as he watched the buck's lazy motions, that he still had more to give, yet his role as the aggressor was over for the night. He leaned over the deer, and he mirrored the scene concluded just moments prior; he even allowed his stiff, dripping manhood to prod the buck's entrance like so, and he graced the deer with a kiss, but Lou knew it wasn't so simple. That was Saul's coda; it was never simple.

It was with only a little bit of persuasion - more like a simple request - that Saul got the handsome buck down on all-fours, bent over the filthy surface of the lacquered bench. Though a twink to end all twinks, an effeminate and beautiful man in any regard, Saul was a competent dominant, and he asserted himself with little of his trademark grace. Clutching his hefty pride, he wedged it in between the deer's taut ass cheeks, shoehorning them apart until he felt the gratifying kiss of a puckered asshole against the blunt, drooling tip of his cock. Grinning, showing his teeth in a manner most unsavory, the skunk pushed forward, and he spread open the snug ring of Lou's tail hole, coaxing a wavering grunt out of the deer, but he, himself, was more reserved and tempered to the penetration. "Yeah," the skunk cooed quietly, unhanding his meat, taking hold possessively of the buck's hips. "How many men only see the back your head, Lou?" Saul asked, wrangling his predatory grin into more of a small, curt smile. "My guess is not many," he said, answering himself, and in the same instance, he started to grind deep into the deer's ass, only to pull it back just as slowly, and then drive it back home with that same slow efficiency. Saul didn't have to violently fuck the deer to make him moan; between his size and Lou's tight, largely un-fucked behind, the simple loving friction of the anal sex was enough to leave that handsome buck moaning and panting encouragingly. Though a creature who could happily lift his tail, Saul was also able to brutally avert that sissy-faggot trope of being merely a bottom bitch, a jizz receptacle and nothing more. Lou learned early on that Saul was not entirely what he seemed, and that duality, that true switch nature, was one of the many countless reasons Saul was harder to quit than any vice imaginable.

"God, harder, babe," Lou grunted, clutching the slick, lacquered surface of the bench tighter, once again seeing exaggerated visions of crushing it in a burst of He-Man strength. Saul complied with actions, not words, grinding his impressive manhood in deeper and harder - and consequently, faster. The sweat rolled down his beautiful body, matting his black-and-white fur, but it lent him the image of a very passionate lover as he rhythmically arched his back and gyrated his hips. Lou was not one to whimper or cry out with exaggerated theatrics, but he made his pleasure known. He grunted and groaned in that very masculine way of his, and under his breath, he huffed his praises and gratuities to the skunk, all delivered as pointless, meandering one-liners meant to be uttered into a pillow or down into the ear of a lover, where the words were secondary to the soothing tones and vibrations, but he uttered them all the same. One, however, stuck out to Saul, and it made his grin - one driven by pleasure, dominance, and cheap booze - return in all its' glory, his glistening enamel on proud display. "God, Saul," the deer quaked, "top or bottom, you're the best lay of my life. Cum for me, babe!" Saul knew he was the best fuck that Lou - but not Lou exclusively, not at all - had ever had. Better than any quick fucks he'd known, better than any friends, and even better than that fox whom he so hopelessly held onto. "You don't need to tell me twice," Saul grunted, his own pillow-talk a bit more concise and focused than Lou's. The both of his tender paws clutching the deer's hips, sweat rolling off his brow, pre oozing incessantly from the tip of his shaft, Saul bore down on the deer, and he pounded that taut ass with all his strength. Long past was the time for teasing and faux-closeness; those ships had sailed, and all that remained was a messy climax, a blast of jizz to match the one the deer had left beneath his own tail. Huffing, grinning involuntarily with his handsome, emerald eyes squinted shut, Saul pounded his manhood in all the way to the hilt. In a glorious smack! of flesh-on-flesh, his ballsack crashed into Lou's own, and then he spilled his seed, his paws planted possessively on the deer's shoulders. Saul licked his lips as the blissful agony of his climax struck him and he shot his mighty wad deep into the deer's rump; Lou was, ironically, not nearly as reserved. He gasped and groaned, bellowing praise and pleasure to the skunk both because he appreciated the pleasure and out of a simple, barbarian need to beat his chest and congratulate an orgasm. Saul grinned; Lou was fun to top.

Saul and Lou sprawled together idly for a short time longer, but to call it cuddling was to project too much affection on their relationship. They lusted after one another's bodies in the worst ways, and though they may have been friends in some tenuous manner, they were fuckbuddies first and foremost. Case in point, the two satisfied creatures stood, toweled their bodies free of sweat and more dubious fluids, and then they re-dressed. It was with obvious reluctance that Lou put his own pants back on, but the feeling was a thousand times worse when Saul did the same, to have to watch that incredibly fine ass and that long, pink cock - impressive even when flaccid - leave his view. "Y'know, I'm two for one," Lou grinned, standing near the door, which he had not yet unlatched. "It's all right," Saul cooed, momentarily pressing against the tall, shirtless buck, "we'll make up for that some other time." Lou, the gentleman that he was, unlocked the door and allowed Saul through, resisting the urge to say ladies first with only a minimum of tact that his inebriated brain managed to retain. Further a gentleman, he paid the cab fare and let the skunk share his bed that evening. Too drunk and too spent for further shenanigans, they slept contently. That next morning, Saul awoke Lou with a casual kiss, a modest thank-you for the evening before, and he left; Lou, gently dragged out of a sound rest by the skunk, fell back into it just as easily back into it, and he slept in that morning.

After the best sex of his life, he was too tired and content to do anything but sleep.

--Chapter III: Remington

Lou felt listless and depressed; the last two weeks had been a true rollercoaster. Some time spent with the man who was, for all intents and purposes, the love of his life - and then some time with the seedier extreme on that spectrum, the greatest lay of his life. The handsome buck lay sprawled in bed; he came home recently from a dance recital, and to cool down, he had enjoyed a cold beer, and then he stripped out of his clothes. Under normal circumstances, the calisthenics of dancing always got his blood flowing and filled him with energy; to that end, he usually enjoyed a little self-abuse when he got home, a fun and effective way to blow off that excess steam. With lazy eyes, he glanced down at his unobstructed crotch, and his cock was as impressive as ever, even when flaccid, but it was just that - flaccid. He didn't feel like he had the strength to get an erection, as though his brain was hogging all of his ordinarily boundless energy so it could fruitlessly try and reconcile his deep love Floyd with his deep lust for Saul. "What to do," he sighed, sprawling out a little bit more on the wildly disorganized sheets of his bed, which he hadn't bothered to make that morning when he got up. The sound of his own lonesome voice made him shiver, and it stirred an overwhelming desire to have companionship. But who should I call? Lou fell by and large idle; he rubbed his chin, his drummed his fingertips on the surface of the nightstand nearby, and again, he considered masturbating. At last, that primal, all-too-male urge overwhelmed him, and he clutched the thick, but flaccid length of his shaft.

In time, the handsome buck was hard; even when he didn't think he could jerk off, his dick always proved otherwise. With a heavy and long sigh, he tried to shoo away his worries and his hang-ups, but he couldn't, and so he retreated deeper into his masturbation. He stroked hard and fervently tugged on his meat, coaxing little snatches of breath from his lips; even as fun as Floyd could be and as mind-blowingly good as Saul was, his own two hands knew him best. With his free hand, he palmed and groped the plump, furred flesh of his scrotum, while he squeezed on the throbbing bulk of his cock with the other. It felt good, and he moaned and huffed to testify just that, but he still felt pretty hollow; all at once, he thought about calling Remington, a good friend, a good lay, and all-around a good time, but some selfless - or maybe cynical - part of him said not to. Do you really want to bring your friends down, too? Lou conceded with a sigh, and he went back to his hurried, frustrated stroking. A little closer with every pump, he could feel the tingling edges of a climax creeping towards him. As much as he didn't want it to happen, his murky mood was slowly lifting; not entirely, since not even the best orgasm could work magic like that, but he started to think a little bit more clearly. Rem would probably be down for hanging out, he said inside of his own head, all the while jerking off in an automatic manner; it was as though his mind was free to stew while his body enjoyed itself. Maybe I ought to call him... Get out of the house, and--, Lou suddenly jerked and shuddered, blindsided by an orgasm, one that struck him like a slap across the face. For many moments, there he lay in his afterglow, his toned chest heaving, bisected into two uneven portions by a line of sloppy, white jizz. He argued with himself, but at long last, he reached for the phone, and his final thought as he speed-dialed Remington was maybe it'll cheer me up.

"Of course you can come visit," said Remington, his tones friendly and sincere. If there was any lust in them, it was buried beneath pleasantries; Lou suspected that some might have been there - he admitted, with a little bit of an unintentional smug attitude, that most of his friends liked his big dick and sexual proficiency - but on the surface, and even down to much of his core, Remington was simply friendly and happy to have Lou. The buck didn't waste any time; the sooner he could get out of his lonesome apartment and into the arms of a good friend, the better. Even though he felt stone-cold sober, he drank a cup of coffee to be sure his head was completely clear, he took a quick, cool shower to wash the smell of work and exertion off of his frame, and then he slid on some fresh clothes without deviating far from his good old standbys; briefs, blue jeans, and a flattering muscle shirt. He grabbed up his keys, locked the door behind himself, and drove out to the otter's pad, which wasn't too far away. Situated near the shore, it was a cozy little beach house, purchased not by Remington, but by his parents' wealth; Remington didn't feel bad enjoying the benefits of his folks having old money. Lou parked out front, and just briefly, he admired the afternoon glow of the sun on the ocean horizon; it brought a little smile to his face, one he still had on when he stepped up to the door, knocked, and was greeted by his friend, the otter. "Hey, you," Lou said. He offered, and wound up giving, a big and friendly squeeze of a hug that, despite all of their past antics, was merely platonic and loving. "Hey yourself," Remington derivatively but enthusiastically shot back, regarding the deer with a fond smile. Lou felt blue, but already, Remington's upbeat attitude was rubbing off on him.

The otter turned and waved into the house, silently beckoning Lou before trotting back inside. Lou followed a few feet behind, pausing only to shut the door, and then he kept on walking, watching Remington's rump, doing so not out of admiration for his behind proper - his baggy swim trunks weren't flattering in the least - but because he thought otters had such cute tails. That wasn't to say Remington didn't have an incredible behind, however, because he most certainly did, and it was perfectly proportioned to the rest of his lean, yet not quite effeminate body, one sculpted by the variety he enjoyed as a triathlete No one part of him was overly defined or particularly underdeveloped, leaving him with an accessible body that lingered somewhere between an inoffensive twink and a muscular jock, but that wasn't all that Lou enjoyed about his appearance - notably, the handsome river-dweller had a pair of striking tattoos. On the back of the otter's left shoulderblade, a beautifully styled rendition of the crescent moon lay, and on his front side, adorning the rightmost sector of his toned chest, was the moon's companion in cat-and-mouse chase, the sun. Lou knew that on some men - most, perhaps - tattoos only detracted from a body's natural attraction, but not on Remington; that ink only accented his physical attractiveness, adding an appeal that was both mystical and accessible in an oh, nice ink manner.

Lou followed Remington's cute rudder into the kitchen, a handsome room with dull-finish linoleum, hardwood cabinetry, and relatively new, high-end electric appliances. It was just off of a screened-in porch, the sunroom, which had a beautiful view of the sea, and the yellow-to-orange glow of the sun poured in through the threshold, lighting the kitchen well. "How have you been?" Remington asked, glancing back over his shoulder at Lou, who comfortably took a seat at the island counter, which had the capacity to serve as a bar during a party. "Aw, I've been all right," the deer said, his voice not sincere in the least, and Remington made no attempt to pretend it had been. "You sure don't sound all right, babe," he said in reply, his tone that of a concerned older brother, and completely believable under that pretense, even though he was the younger one by a couple of years. Lou offered Remington a shallow smile, one that said you caught me. Remington was hard to bluff, but Lou wasn't making many attempts to. "It's the usual stuff," he sighed, momentarily rapping the fingertips of both hands on the countertop in a rhythm. "I saw Floyd, and then Saul saw me. Old wounds." Remington, leaning over the opened fridge door - as he had for the last twenty seconds, not seeming to be conscious or worried about it - offered Lou a sympathetic, respectful dip of his head, and then he disappeared into the fridge; Lou watched the otter's bent-over behind and idly wagging rudder as he rummaged through the fridge with some childlike amusement. Finally, the otter emerged with a pair of bottles, some curiously Mexican-branded drink that said on their labels, in a caps-locked shout, [HARD ICED TEA]. Another legend lay below in Spanish, unintelligible to either creature.

As somebody who drank with some frequency, Lou didn't find the teas to be particularly hard, but they were tasty, and they took the edge off of his mood. He and Remington sat side-by-side at the island counter, sipping their drinks and idly talking about the deer's little hang-ups; Remington was respectful, yet thoughtful, and he eased Lou by wrapping a comforting arm around his middle, which he used to squeeze himself close to the deer. "It's just difficult," Lou huffed, looking out the adjacent kitchen window with a sullen expression. "I love Floyd so much - I can't even describe it." Remington smooched his cheek and offered a helpful little whisper. "I know, hon." Lou glanced at the otter's sympathetic, but subtly smiling face, and he, too, began to smile, however forced it felt. "I really doubt if I can ever be the kind of faithful man he deserves, especially in a world where Saul can get his hands on me just by smiling and winking." Lou shuddered and took a drink of his tea, a long one, which invoked another shudder. There's some of that hardness, the deer thought, setting the brown glass bottle down on the counter, but still clutching it. "Lou, that's really something only you can solve for yourself, but you're a wonderful person that's just had a few stumbles like everybody else has." He reaffirmed his squeeze, and he bumped his short muzzle into the handsome deer's cheek. "As much as it hurts you, you need to consider that part of your life - you and Floyd, being together - as buried. You gotta let that go. By all means, be his friend, but let that go and you'll feel so much better." Remington, of course, knew that it was a fruitless cause - it was a talk he'd had with Lou on a number of occasions - but he always had to try. At the end of the day, he could sleep knowing he did the right thing. Mercifully, Lou never felt burned by Remington's honesty; he knew it was true, but he also knew he would never really let go of Floyd.

"You're smart," Lou said, his voice underscored by a rueful chuckle. "That's what you tell me," Remington said in a gentle coo, planting a smooch on Lou's neck. "Tell you what'd be fun," he began, earning a distracted glance from Lou, one accentuated by a raised eyebrow. "I could toss one of those cardboard pizzas in the oven, and we can see who's better at Madden, even though it's usually me." Then, he grinned, and as he predicted, Lou grinned back. "Usually you, huh," Lou shot back in a flat tone, butting his muzzle against Remington's. "You, who said the sun was in his eyes when he lost in Mario Kart at one o'clock in the morning?" Remington sucked his lungs full of air in a sudden, startled gasp, the beginning of a laugh he tried to stifle, but then he let it all out in a riotous chain of giggles and chuckles, and Lou joined him. They seemed to encourage each other, getting even noisier and more obnoxious, and Remington liked to hear Lou laugh like that; it was the sound of him letting go of his baggage, and it wasn't even the liquor doing it. As their laughing started to relent, folding back into the giggles and chuckles it had escalated from, they both sighed and leaned against one another, their eyes wet with those involuntary tears that only true laughter could bring about. When it finally ceased, and they were left with only broad, toothy grins that threatened to start laughing again, they shared a kiss on the lips, and then Remington stood up from the counter, leaving his drink where it was. The two of them almost felt like they were in afterglow after having such a good laugh, feeling close and intimate like they'd just had sex. "So, what do you think, Lou?" Remington asked, his words collected enough that he didn't start compulsively giggling again. "Pepperoni or supreme?"

Lou, as it turned out, wanted pepperoni, and they ate most of the pizza - and drank four more of those teas, a pair for each of them - in between rounds of video game football and Mario Kart. Unlike playing against Floyd, an unabashedly nerdy creature, Lou was more evenly pitted against Remington, and they both had their wins and losses. They laughed, but not to the extent they had before; they were rowdy and playful and they had a little bit of friendly trash-talk, but things never got too rude, and by the time the pizza was cold and their drinks were gone, they were full, comfortably buzzed, and happy. Just spending time with Remington dragged Lou's mood out of the gutters; getting some aggression out of his system by abusing a good friend with red shells and unwarranted, out-of-bounds tackles - and getting abused in return - was also very good medicine for his sour feelings. As they finished up their very last game, one more hectic race, Lou was in first place, his first win after a four-race losing streak. Nevertheless, he savored the victory, and he regarded Remington with a grin and a nudge, all sorrow gone from his demeanor. "How's it feel to get your butt kicked, huh?" he teased, earning a momentarily wry smile from the otter. "You tell me, Lou - you're in eighth place overall."

They laughed and teased all the way to the otter's exercise room; the both of them comfortably buzzed, they giggled and chattered about the finest moments from their nerdy competition. Don't forget that awesome finish where I stopped you right at the line and won the race, Lou cited, but Remington countered him with you fumbled the ball four times in just one down! And Lou, well aware of the irony, exclaimed that the sun was in his eyes - and just like that, they were back to laughing. An inside joke could be a wonderful thing for lightening one's baggage, and it was truer than ever as they leaned on each other and giggled like fools. They were still coming down from it when Lou settled back on a weightlifting bench; the bar already had thirty-five pounds of weights on either side, and that was a comfortable enough amount for the buck. With Remington spotting him, he slowly pumped the weights, his intention only to work off a little bit of his energy and blow off some steam; he and Remington still talked, but their choice of subjects had become a little bit more casual. Lou's dancing, Remington's athleticism, little things they were looking forward to, and little things that everybody dreaded. Just briefly, the subject was back on Floyd, but Lou didn't dive into that sullen mood he'd just recovered from. Rather, he spoke of this one recipe for catfish Floyd showed me - one of his friends is a really good cook. Remington found it interesting, and not only in a polite just smile and nod manner. That was something Lou consistently liked about Remington; he never seemed to feign interest in anything. The truth, however, was that while Remington was listening - there was no faking that keen interest, especially not for an otter to fake interest in seafood, as stereotypical as it was - he was ogling Lou's body. Or, more specifically, his torso; Lou wasn't ripped, but he wasn't smooth, either. His toned body rippled under the snug shirt he wore, the sinew of his muscles pronounced through the fabric in a manner far too enticing to ignore. Lou was oblivious to what a show he was putting on, and he was to remain that way; the baggy swim trunks hid Remington's erection well, and the buck was never the wiser.

Lou and Remington whittled the evening away with a movie and some late night television, a talk show they spent more time supplying their own dialogue for than actually watching. They capped off the night by finishing off the cold remains of the pizza for a midnight snack. Leaning on one another like tired football players after a long and grueling session of practice, they walked to the bedroom; Remington flopped down on the large, pliable surface of the bed - a waterbed, something a flexible-bodied creature like an otter would prefer - without bothering to discard his swim trunks. Getting them off was so trivial that he didn't think they'd be much of a hindrance should he need to quickly shed them. Inversely, Lou stood near the bed and stripped nude, first peeling his sweaty shirt up and off. While the deer was occupied with that, Remington sat up, a contrived, naughty smile on his lips; with one hand, he undid the button that fastened Lou's fly, but the other was more distracting that helpful, for he palmed and groped the unmistakable outline of the deer's penis. Lou didn't moan, but he did sigh, and Remington was happy to hear it, either way. "You and these tight jeans," Remington remarked, unzipping them, revealing the stark white material of briefs beneath; Lou's member had only just begun to swell with blood, but it was already quite a bulge. "I like clothes that fit me. The beach bum look doesn't exactly work on deer," Lou grinned, teasing up beneath Remington's chin with a fingertip. The otter only chuckled, his grin lewd, his eyes surprisingly soft and caring. He slid down the denim of Lou's jeans, and they fell to the floor with relative ease; the buck only had to squirm a little bit to help them along. Remington licked his lips and clutched the bulge that nested in the handsome deer's briefs, and where the blunt tip lay, a dark stain of pre slowly spread.

Lou glanced down, beyond the sight of Remington's groping paw and hungry features; with the otter seated, pulling his swim trunks tighter than they ordinarily would have been, Lou could see the river-dweller's own incriminating bulge, and a very uncharacteristic, cock-hungry impulse overtook him. He knelt down quickly - Remington tried to keep his paw where it was, but he reluctantly let go of the deer's bulge before too long - and buried his short snout in the otter's lap. This works too, Remington thought as he cutely bit his lower lip, not minding at all that he wasn't going to get his lips around Lou's meat. Remington moaned in sexual heat as Lou fervently rubbed his muzzle into that bulge, grinding and nuzzling good and hard, blushing and savoring the feeling of that hard cock smearing all over his cheeks and nose, hidden behind a very thin canvas of breathable fabric. "Oh, hey, I dunno what's gotten into you," Remington grinned, his paws balled into fists at his sides, "but I sure don't mind it." The deer shot a naughty grin up at Remington, made all the more endearing by the pink glow visible just beneath the fur of his cheeks. "Cocks aren't just for twinks," Lou said in a sultry, almost rumbling tone, at once clutching the absurdly flexible waistband of Remington's swim trunks. Even without cooperation from the otter - he didn't give the river-dweller any time at all to even think about lifting his behind up - Lou tugged them down, out from under his fine ass and down to his knees. "Does that mean I'm gonna be on top tonight?" Remington quipped, but his attempt to look sexy and domineering was interrupted when Lou dragged his tongue across the otter's cock, lapping over it from the base to the tip, the blunt surface of which he slurped over as though it were a lollipop; Remington couldn't help but shudder and groan, and instinctively, he set his paws upon Lou's modest rack. "I sure as hell didn't say that," Lou said with a sharp little laugh, though he didn't think he would have terribly minded Remington up under his tail; he was just more interested in the alternative.

Lou may not have been the most experienced man when it came to giving a blowjob - he plainly acknowledged that he was far better at receiving them - but he was competent. With his best moves, he engulfed the length of Remington's shaft and began to suckle and bob, incorporating no interesting little flairs like twists and conservative use of his teeth, but his technique was tried-and-true. Remington wasn't complaining; while there was certainly such a thing as a bad blowjob, Lou's performance was anything but. He held onto the buck's rack, and he made use of it to control the deer's speed at which he bobbed; he seemed to do so without realizing it, but he did it nonetheless. On his friend's tongue, he oozed a nearly incessant stream of precum, a bitter-salty fluid that Lou rather enjoyed the flavor of, for he gulped it down as fast as it came. Beyond leaving Remington's cock with a gleaming coat of saliva that coated the otter's balls to some degree, he wasn't terribly messy, either; no drool ran down his chin, and not a drop of pre was wasted. Beneath, in the confines of his briefs, Lou's own member throbbed hard, that stain of pre ever spreading, and the feeling of his tender, cut flesh against the semi-rough surface of his underpants was more stimulating that he would have admitted; he reached down and clutched his erection, palming it through the material, sending tingles up his spine, but nothing more. Blowing Remington was quite arousing, and hearing the otter pant and moan - not to mention that strange submission of letting the river-dweller manhandle his rack for control - was a sexual delight, but in his heart, he knew what he really wanted involved his cock under that otter's cute rudder. Defying Remington's grip on his rack - though he didn't enforce his control too firmly anyway - Lou pulled his head out of the otter's lap, and then he actually smacked his lips without realizing it. They regarded each other with dirty grins for but a moment, and then Lou dived again; this time, he eased his nose beneath the otter's scrotum. Remington shuddered, but he didn't say a word in protest. Who would?

Rimming was something Lou had a little bit more experience with, both for fun and as a very kinky way to save on lube. He dragged his tongue across the otter's puckered asshole with vigorous strokes and constant repetition, but he also gave the river-dweller's taint the same experience. Remington huffed and moaned even more than from the blowjob, and to accommodate Lou, he lay back upon the bed and spread his toned legs, his rudder wagging beneath. Lou's strokes left Remington's entrance absolutely saturated in hot saliva, and as he licked, he palmed his own shaft, still restrained by the fabric of his briefs. "That feels good," Remington said with a lazy, small chuckle, his member oozing its' messy pre onto the toned plane of his stomach; he had no interest in masturbation at that moment, if only because it would have shortened a very fun and intimate moment for the two of them. Lou ceased only a few seconds later, and after a hot expulsion of breath upon the handsome athlete's tail hole, he pulled back. "I'm glad you like that," the deer said, again employing that sultry, smooth voice; his bedroom voice, as Floyd would attest to. Lou stood up, and Remington sat up to watch as the handsome buck shed his briefs; the mighty, pink flesh of his member literally sprung free, and afterward, it hung in the cool evening air, throbbing, oozing with rivulets of preseminal fluid. Beneath, clad in cloudy, white fur, the buck's plump balls hung low and free; Remington grinned at the sight of that entire package. Lou was beautiful in any regard, he surmised; handsome, toned, well-hung and very friendly, not to mention a hell of a lover. He descended on Remington, pressing him chest-to-chest for a brisk meeting of lips, a friendly little I-love-you, but nothing more involved. For a moment, he rubbed the impressive length of his member on the river-dweller's own, and Remington shuddered, regarding Lou's naughtiness with a grin before gently flipping the deer onto his back.

Lou landed without a noise beyond the wet plop! of his body on the bag of the mattress; thankfully, his rack didn't puncture it. Remington climbed over Lou, pressing his behind down against the throbbing, erect flesh of the deer's member, letting it hotdog up between his cheeks. He caressed the buck's toned chest with his paws, a touch that was reverent of the handsome male form beneath, but also lewd, which became apparent as he rubbed and tweaked the deer's pert, pink nipples. Lou groaned, and then he smirked in a dull manner, letting his own hands rest on the otter's fine hips. "You're a real stud," said Remington as he glanced back, clutching the buck's meat, guiding it to the pucker of his asshole, "you know that?" Lou licked his lips, watching in half-distraction as Remington made to impale himself, groaning out long and low when the otter did just that. The feel of those velvet walls engulfing his thick, swollen male pride sent shivers up his spine and filled his loins with tingling pleasure; Remington's quaking moans and seemingly involuntary grin spoke of similar pleasures. He slowly, but steadily slid down until the deer's impressive shaft had sunk in to the hilt, and for a moment, he settled there. "Aha, jeez, I don't think I could imagine you being anybody's first time, hon," Remington said with a chuckle that was decidedly uneasy, earning a brief, coy grin from Lou. "I, heh, yeah," Lou snickered, momentarily too bashful to say anything articulate. With some exertion, he sat up from the squishy surface of the bed, and he draped his arms over the otter's shoulders, sharing a shallow kiss with the triathlete. Remington returned the kiss with a gentle smile, and, bracing his paws on the buck's shoulders for support, he started to steadily bounce himself; a strong-legged creature, this wasn't too hard at all for Remington, especially with such a pliable surface as that waterbed to launch from. The end result was a surprisingly energetic ride that pleased the buck and the otter well.

"Mm, yeah, just like that," Lou sighed, stroking down the slender plane of the otter's back with his strong, but gentle hands; Remington responded cutely to the affection, arching his slender back at that touch, unintentionally pouting out the toned, tattooed surface of his chest. "You can say that again," Remington chuckled, squeezing on the buck's shoulders with his soft paws, perhaps uncomfortably hard, but it was a symptom of the sex, and Lou didn't mind it at all. He found that discomfort exhilarating in a way, complimenting the raw, accessible pleasure of the otter's tight, clenching behind, making it more pronounced. He shuddered and allowed himself a few pleasure-hungry grinds up into the triathlete's divine behind, grinds which Remington met with content, long moans and more fervent bounces. His own shaft rubbed teasingly into the toned muscles of the deer's stomach, smearing the downy fluff there with pre, leaving it matted and cow-licked in every which direction. Under his breath, Lou started to huff soft nothings and inarticulate swears, which Remington noticed with a little grin. "You gonna hold out much longer, hon?" asked the otter, feeling the distant tingles of an approaching climax just from riding the buck and rubbing his cock into that soft fur. "Mmh, I'd be a liar if I said yeah," Lou chuckled, but he didn't feel ashamed; Remington was an excellent lay. It was a compliment, as far as he was concerned, that he was already pretty close. Remington felt the same way; no pressure, no need to impress, just a good, healthy release.

"I didn't think so," Remington admitted, releasing Lou's shoulders, choosing then to push the deer flat on his back, again narrowly avoiding the messy demise of the waterbed. He palmed all over the hard flesh of the deer's chest, not so much tracing individual strands of sinew as admiring those great clusters of toned flesh as a whole, rubbing all over them with little discretion, displaying nothing but an athlete's admiration for the chiseled male form. Lou's attention was a little bit more split; he indeed traced over the lean edges of Remington's chest and admired the stylish sun tattoo that the otter bore, but he also took it upon himself to get the handsome creature off. With a firm grip, he stroked Remington's shaft good and hard, an effort that left his palm covered in slippery pre, but he didn't care. It only made that handjob easier for himself and better for Remington, and that was what mattered the most. Remington panted and groaned in absolute bliss as he bounced on Lou harder and harder, faster by the second, the frantic need for climax overtaking him - and the deer - in full force. What had once begun as a casual lay had degraded into feral lust and a rotten, selfish need for each of them to simply blast a good, hot load, but they were content in that behavior in each other, and it made the sudden, mutual climax so incredibly gratifying; Lou shot what felt like an unending series of thick ropes into the otter's behind, while Remington's seed splattered into Lou's hand and across the buck's stomach and chest in splattering strings of white, sticky mess. They were both thrust into their afterglow within seconds of one another, rendered panting and moaning like the animals they were, but reveling in the bliss of sexual release and physical intimacy, as casual as the pretense was. Neither one of them would remember their words after that the next morning; Lou had uttered something to the effect of oh shit, oh, god, fuck, and Remington was not much more articulate; they fell asleep more or less as they were, but sometime during the night, Remington had more comfortably spooned up to Lou, and they awoke pressed close together.

It was almost noon when they finally rose from bed, but they felt refreshed and revitalized; Lou's baggage was entirely hidden; not gone, it never was, but he didn't feel weighted by it anymore. Remington, who had already been in good spirits, felt even better. He treated his cervine friend to a filling brunch - BLT sandwiches, who could say no to that? - and they ate in a naked cuddle on the sofa. When the meal was over, they spent a brief time close together, nuzzling and talking about the night before, praising one another without being overwrought and sappy - they were simply a pair of friends who had enjoyed a good time together. They were even in good spirits when the inevitable moment came that Lou looked upon the clock on the wall. "Well, babe," he said, "I need to go. I have recitals and all that good stuff." Remington met the news with a solemn nod, and though his mouth was straight, neither a frown nor a smile, his eyes were sagely and understanding. "Just as well," he said softly, "I have some art classes to catch, myself."

They dressed together without shenanigans, or even lewd remarks; Remington followed Lou all the way to the front door, and he even stepped through with the deer. For a few long moments, Lou breathed in the fresh sea breeze air, his eyes briefly on his own car before he turned to face Remington. "I had a good time," the deer said with a fond smile and a content gleam in his eyes; Remington returned the smile, his own eyes clearly intelligent, but also benevolent and gentle. "Likewise." The deer leaned in close, and they embraced, their bodies flush together; the hug was somewhere between a manly squeeze and a lover's embrace, both casual and gay at the same time, but the deer capped it off with a firm meeting of lips, which Remington returned. "Until next time, Rem," he said, pulling away gently, backpedaling a few steps before turning to his car. The otter just smiled, leaning against the threshold of his door while Lou got in, started his car up, and finally drove off.