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Jessy was awake. It was Saturday, 11:30pm, and he was was still awake. There was special kind of hatred he reserved for the world in the instances he was entitled, nay expected no less, to sleep in but was entirely unable to fall asleep at all. Of course he couldn't. The broken air conditioner meant his room was far too cold, and the torturous miracle of jetlag was that you could be physically and mentally exhausted to the point of psychosis, but that your body could still decide that you will eat sleepless shit for yet another wasted night cycle.

God, Jessy hatted jetlag. He hated planes. Well that wasn't true. He hated what planes did to him. Turned him into a mindless invalid too sleep deprived to even string a sentence together. Which was a pity, because fate had decreed that his job as Regional Case Manager meant he was flying to some which way, every other week.

Well, he decided, not doing anything lying down here. He was restless. In general he was restless. He was a restless individual. He plodded over to the motel bathroom, let the water run for about half a minute -just enough to get lukewarm- then cupped his hands and matted the blue tinged fur of his face till it was wet and slightly warmer than before.

By all rights he should have acclimatised to this lifestyle by now, but Jessy was nothing if not a creature of predictable habits. Habits which had just long enough to engrain themselves in between flights before being disrupted again. Unfortunately, he was also generally quite good at his job, and possessive of a kind of quite stubborn pride that meant he would strive to do that job well simply to add another feather in the cape of his career. A kind of neurotic collector of commendations, if you will. Yes I did just take a weekend trip to finalize those case reports, what of it?

Of course, he could also chalk a slight helping of further stress from his impending circumstance rather than his current one. In half-an-hour it would be Sunday. Seven hours from Sunday he'd be at 17 Treant Crescent, Marrison, NSW. It was a new suburb. One of the perks his host had picked up in his budding career as a realtor meant he got an early pick of one of the new land plots when the suburb was commissioned. It wasn't that he was dreading meeting Alex. Not really. What he dreaded was the impending awkwardness he supposed everyone had to deal with when they were face to face with an old crush.

More specifically, an old crush you don't think you've quite gotten over, but who had very decidedly gotten married and had a kid of his own. Jessy thanked his stars, and not for the first time, for the fact that that little awkwardness had never come out in the open between them. They'd gone from sleepovers in High School, to a shared dorm for Uni, then to a Share House, just for a little while, just till they got the beginnings of a career and some cash flow going. And while Jessy quietly searched for alternatives to Alex, any alternative, somewhere along the line, Alex meet a subtly but endearingly attractive French vixen.

Jessy returned to his bed and lay down, dragging the blanket over himself. Whatever was the deal with this motels air con was, it was too much of it. Fucking wolf fur should not be insubstantial in an Australian climate, even if it was winter. Complaining had only gotten him a, "Sorry sir, we are trying to get if fixed," but the repair man was apparently incompetent.

Alex presumably had adequate climate control. Not even climate control, just climate neutral would do. Where his room the same temperature as the space outside his room he would probably be content. For a brief moment he was glad for Alex's invitation. He could have organised another hotel the next day, but going to a home rather than a business ensured a certain level of comfort. He still had to wonder at Alex's game however. They'd spoken, they'd even skyed the last ten years that Jessy lived predominantly in the states. But aside from the occasional brief meet-ups in a Café in Sydney when both their schedules happened to coincide they'd not seen each other in person for approximately ten years. They'd really only kept up the token appearances in each other's lives out of a stubborn reluctance to be the one who let the other go. Sure they had fun, but was that enough?

It had even been an accident that Jessy mentioned his impending transfer back home. They both new it had to happen eventually, the nature of Jessy's stint in the US of A was one meant to build and establish protocols and connections. Now those were self-sustaining, Jessy had a reasonable block of goodwill going for him within the company, but any further advancement would require him back here.

So Alex offered to take him in. At least for a week, two weeks at the most, while Jessy worked out accommodation and/or presumably bought a house of his own. The old, slightly blue tinged, gray-wolf was in his mid/late thirties now. It was time to settle down, like Alex.

Courgette, that was her name. The name of the vixen that stole his fox. Jessy always privately referred to Alex as his fox in his mind, with a kind of guilty pleasure, and although he had about as much claim to ownership of Alex as he did to authorship of the Iliad. Something oppressively French, but also obnoxiously adorable one you learned it meant zucchini. Jessy didn't even hate her. Didn't even dislike her. She was just too nice! Quietly dignified, refined even, funny and sharp as a tac. She spoke perfect English, but remained admirably stubborn in keeping her accent. It added to her mystic, really.

Then there was the cub, Reynard. Clearly his mother had won the coin toss on what to name that one. Chris hadn't seen the kid in ten years. His most vivid memories of little Reynard were a kind of game he played with his parents, and close friends of his parents, and guests, and indeed anyone in the house, or just generally around. He would hide behind or under something, usually a chair or similar furnishing, which his soft bushy red tail waving enticingly behind him in full view. You were supposed to grab this, and indeed you had to grab this as this was how the game was played, to which he would squeal with delight and then run around the rooms several times laughing. It was fucking adorable, even to jaded misanthropes like Jessy.

This was saying something. Jessy didn't not, as a rule, particularly like children. But of course they, rather frustratingly, seemed to like him. He didn't hate them, he just didn't feel he was able to relate to them. So he generally did his best to ignore them when he was in the room with them, which must have made them crave his attention all the more. And when he was force to talk to them, at gun point and with his loved ones threatened with violence obviously, he generally tried to do so as he would any other adult. If they couldn't understand well tough shit for them! But of course they loved that too!

Jessy honestly tried to act aloft and unfriendly around children, but they didn't seem to realise that. He wondered how interacting with Reynard would be now that he was older. Surely the boy must be in his mid to late teens by now. How different would things be now that he could actually hold an intelligent conversation with the boy? Would he want to? Going by how youths were portrayed in media Jessy couldn't really hold out much hope of that. But then the media was notoriously shit at portraying minorities from all demographics, even when that demographic fell under the distinctly non-minor banner of 'youth'.

A thought occurred, which brought a slight smile and chuckle to Jessy that managed to finally lull him off to sleep. Presumably he wouldn't have to play the tail-grabbing game with him again. But he could probably allow himself the kind of dark humour, the kind when you notice someone's milk has started leaking into the rest of their shopping at the checkout, of reminding Reynard that he used to squeal when people grabbed his tail.

It was a nice neighbourhood, if a little underdeveloped, but that was to be expected. Alex and Courgette's house must have been one of the first ones to be built, with the vast majority of the surrounding lots showing the tell-tale signs of being flattened in preparation for, but not having actually commenced, construction.

Jessy supposed loneliness may have been another reason for Alex's invitation, as his taxi came round the last bend. As of yet they barely had neighbours to speak of with a conspicuous absence of occupants as they drove past houses 15, 16, ah here it is. Jessy paid the cab driver, privately cursed as wallaby speed away as he remembered that tipping was a habit only expected in the states. He silently mourned the loss of his extra five dollars, and wheeled his suitcase of clothes for the next few days up the paved driveway. His host's front yard boasted a gravel path from the driveway to the door, a modest collection of rock garden beds studded with a few Australian native shrubs and bushes. The flamboyant yellow wattle was the noticeable exception to the rule, which occupied copious rungs along the side of the house along with rows upon rows of flowers that had to be the touch of Courgette's influence.

Overall though it was a very nice house. The quintessential depiction of the first world, modern suburbs. Or at least what developers wanted people to picture the modern suburbs as. A home with broad appeal, but lots of room for little customizable details, like he plant pots handing from the veranda. He even found himself tracing the lines in the ornate door wood as he waited for the shuffling behind it to creep closer, and finally be replaced by the sound of someone fumbling with a lock.

"Jessy how are you!" Courgette stood there, wearing a bright green shirt overlaid with a purple vest and a floral skirt, and an exuberant accent. The epitome of the housebound homemaker. Except, as far as Jessy remembered, Courgette also had a fairly successful career in corporate law. Colourful flowerchild dresses were really the only thing she wore outside of the office. Funny thing was, the confidence and utter relaxed nature Courgette exuded made Jessy feel slightly over dressed in his business suite, and black framed square glasses.

"Hello Courgette." Jessy tried to force a smile, then found to his surprise he didn't need to. Courgette was one of those almost annoying individuals whose cheerfulness was almost as infectious as polio.

"Come in, come in. Alex, nous ne sommes pas seuls! Come in Jessy." And then Courgette briefly channelled her French country peasant ancestry and hoisted Jessy's luggage through the threshold far more comfortably than her lithe frame should have allowed. Beware yea potential home invaders, this Mom can swing a bat with the best of them.

"Jessy! Good to see you!" Alex even threw the tea towel over his little shoulder with a little flare as he extended a chocolate paw, which Jessy _graciously_accepted. Jessy took mental stock of the man Alex had become since their last meeting. He supposed there hadn't been many more changes to come since last they'd met, but having your own house built did seem to make you mature a little more. Alex currently sported black pants and a white collar shirt with the sleeves rolled up which, as the smell of onions and herbs on his paws also suggested, was at least partially due to him cooking. Then Jessy braced himself for the waves of petty jealousy, bitterness, and the awkwardness of unresolved, unrequited affection...

Apparently this was a day of surprises and self-discovery because they never came. Jessy was almost shocked by how okay it was too see Alex like this. Devoted husband, father, homeowner... straight man. He was okay with it. How long had it been seen they'd last seen each other? Six months? Probably the longest stint without any direct contact between them. Maybe that was enough. Maybe all he needed was to actually see Alex in his natural habitat. Husband, father, straight man, etc.

"How was your trip?" This was it. The final frontier. Could he affect casual conversation without an undercurrent of sexual tension.

"Fine, fine. It's good to see you, the house looks great." Yes!

"Ah, most of that is probably owed to my darling wife." Then Alex turned behind himself and addressed the corridor in an appalling accent, but functional French invocation. "Reynard, recontrez notre invité!"

A few moments brief pause, while Jessy mulled over awkwardly will being privy to conversation Alex was having with an unseen participant about, but not to him.

"I will come out to see him when you speak in English." A young voice some rooms away replied at last.

Courgette chimed back. "Vous avez une mère français mon petit chou-fleur, deal avec elle."

"Does he speak French?"

Courgette and Alex both regarded Jessy for a moment, during which he felt silently judged for never following through with the lessons years of association should have justified. "Ne." They replied in unison.

"Well then, il est impoli de parler une langue que ne comprend pas les commentaires." None the less the voice, Reynard, seemed to have satisfactorily made its point and left his room to join them in the atrium. And for the first time in ten years Jessy looked upon Alex and Courgette's little boy.

Then forty-seven seconds later Jessy had to made a conscious concerted effort to blink to stop his eyes from drying out and shake the hand that Reynard had offered. He'd been staring. A lot. The boy looked like Alex. Exactly like Alex. Not Alex as he was now, God- no. Alex as a young boy, only maybe slightly lither (his mother's sole contribution to his physiology) and perhaps... well there was no other term for it with the purple studs, swishy. Not quite effeminate, but verbose in his gestures and mannerisms. It was like... any other way to put it? No? How Jessy imagined a gay Alex would have looked in his fantasiesdreams. He was even wearing the exact same clothes as his father, in a creepy mini-me/clone kind of way.

"Good too meet you, Jessy wasn't it?" Reynard was regarding Jessy with a look of light suspicions, presumably for the awkward staring, but also as if he didn't really that was who Jessy really was.

"Y- Yes good to see you. I haven't seen you since you were a small boy."

"Yes I remember. You were one of my uncles, who wasn't really my uncle. More one of my dad's slightly creepy friends."

"Jessy!" Both Alex and Courgette affected more than enough offence on Jessy's behalf, and it was on that basis that he instead diverted his energy to anger. Yes he had been staring awkwardly and, let's be honesty, creepily. He was indigent about the fact itself, but even more so at being called out on it. He would not suffer this in silence, oh no. He was going to strike a blow of his own.

"I remember you used to squeal when I grabbed your tail." He blurted, almost unintentionally. Almost. But he did mental backflips when he was rewarded with the sight of Reynard's ears flick with annoyance and blush with embarrassment. Score one for the old wolf over the young fox!

"Well, we won't be doing that now." As vitriolic Reynard's audible self-disgust was, Jessy liked to believe he hear a twinge of respect there. It was a fox thing. You weren't a peer until you'd pulled one over on them. And Jessy relished his creepy peer status, acquired from dredging up embarrassing memories from the infancy of his teenage opponent... This wasn't going well was it?

Mercifully Alex intervened, "Alright Rey, you deserved that. Dinner's almost ready, if you want to help Courgette set the table Jessy. Reynard give me hand in the kitchen."

"Gladly." Said Jessy, glad for the diversion. But then, right now Jessy would have been happy for a root canal without anesthetic right now if it meant he got away from this... boy. He could do menial labour right now. His mind was practically screaming for it.

The McCormick's had a comparatively modest dining table, coated in a quietly dignified dark varnish. The woodwork was not particularly ornate, but the corners and edges were sharp, curved and detailed where appropriate.

The table cloth was almost surgical with its bleach white utility. Jessy occupied his mind with the pressing of folds and the straightening of crease, making a kind a game with himself to see how long he could go without thinking about... five seconds that time. Oh Courgette's speaking to me.

"Hm. Pardon?"

"How was your flight?" Courgette delicately and very deliberately placed knives and forks in front of chairs as she spoke. While he was aware he probably wasn't able to appreciate Courgette's assets the same way Alex did, he did appreciate her effortless grace. He always pictured her as a dancer.

"Fine, fine. No delays, miraculously. The old kangaroo's been surprisingly reliable of late. How long have you had the house?"

"Three months now. Reynards already turned his room into a grotto."

Fifteen seconds, good.

"How is Reynard?" One. "Is he doing well in school?" One! "Have you noticed how much he looks like his father?" ONE. "He doesn't seem to like me much." Why the hell did you care? Also, ONE!

"Yes, he's at that age where he is perpetually moody, and of the opinion that he does the world a service simply by being in it. Don't take it personally."

"I'm not." Still bloody one! For gods sake can you really not go one minute without having dirty thoughts about a miner? Wait. How old was he? "How old is he now."

"Nineteen."

Oh thank god! At least I'm not a paedofile. Just. Barely. At best this is still merely extremely creeping. Topic change, topic change. "How are you, how's work?"

She wrinkled her slender nose, "It could be better. This one client is being particularly difficult."

"Difficult how?"

"Well," at this point she crossed her arms, "the problem is, they are the one honestly in the wrong. Not that they want to actually admit that. And they're stone-walling us in our attempts to mitigate their liability, so they can attempt to deny as much responsibility as possible, is really only going to make things worse in the long run. They want to basically deny the whole thing and get off completely free, and they refuse to accept that that's not going to happen."

"Hm." Jessy could appreciate this. He could lose himself in the conversation and offer casual sympathy for the professional woes of another, all the while lulling his olfactory senses with the aromas drifting in from the kitchen. That really did smell good. Steak? Yes, definitely steak.

Before long Jessy's eyes confirmed what his nose suspected. It was a sumptuous meal. With potatoes, both sweet and plain, asparagus with roasted almonds and all of it liberally sprinkled with the French's enthusiasm for herbs.

The only thing that really marred the experience for Jessy was the fact that, by someone's sick idea of a joke, Alex and Courgette had decided to be jarringly traditional and sit opposite each other. Which of course meant that Jessy was sitting opposite Reynard. So while everyone else was able to look up from their plates without consequence, Jessy was forced to take a fixed interest in the patterns of his now empty plate. Which was fine. The McCormick's were a disturbingly functional family, perfectly capable of engaging each other in conversation, with or without Jessy's contribution.

So, while his gaze remain fixedly pointed downward as frequently as his hosts would allow, his ears swivelled as they were treated to the sounds of three family members trading banter. Witty banter at that, but also lapsing into broken or fluent French, depending on the speaker. The duality of the conversation added a kind of novelty too it. Will he lapse into French with the next sentence? Will she correct Alex on the dropped syllable three words ago?

"So, Mr...?" It was Reynard.

"Lucon." He replied, already resenting the forces of the order and the universe for forcing him to look upon the speaker once more.

"Did you enjoy Dad's cooking?" Reynard's paws were folded in a pyramid, and he was wearing the kind of stern but reserved, mocking expression you might see on the face of that one judge on talent shows, who was contractually obligated to be a dick, as they calmly and collectedly destroyed the ego of whomever they were addressing.

"Yes?"

"I did too. Maybe next time I'll make a salad. Now, I don't mean to brag but I toss a mean salad."

Jessy blinked. Did he just say that?

"In fact, were I honest, tossing the salad is probably my favourite part of making a salad."

Holy shit he just said that. Jessy's eyes made a beat from Alex to Courgette. Their expressions mirrored each other, slight confusion and incomprehension. They could both see that something was being implied with whatever Reynard was saying, fox intuition probably, for wherever there was another meaning to something V. vulpes would not be far behind to sniff it out, but they didn't know what yet.

Jessy regard his aggressor. This was between them.A contest of wits. Challenge accepted. He probably did this with many houseguests. Took quiet clandestine jabs at them, while privately savouring the voyeuristic knowledge that said jabs were going right over their head. In short, the fox enjoyed pulling one over on them. But Jessy held an advantage. He knew what Reynard was doing, and could respond in kind. That gave him the element of surprise.

"Actually, Reynard I quite enjoy tossing salads himself." Reynard's ears piqued and that slight curve in his mouth vanished. He was flustered. Direct hit! Go for the kill! Go for the kill! "In fact, Reynard, I'd dare say that I might at tossing salad than you."

"Oh really?" He was reproachful. Clearly, this was not the way the little shit thought this would go. That's right boyo, I'm an old hand at your own game, and I am going to win!

"In fact about the only thing I'd say I can do better than tossing salad is baseball."

Reynard blinked. "Pardon?"

"Well, I'm not a professional or anything, but let's just say I know how to swing a baseball bat around."

"I see."

"I didn't know you played baseball." Said Alex, reminding them that both he and Courgette were still there, rather awkwardly. They still wore expressions of concern but now it was tinged with amusement. This suggested more that while they didn't get the subtext of what Reynard and Jessy were saying they did understand what had happened on some level. A battle of wits. Blows were exchanged. Jessy had the element of surprise in that Reynard had presumed he was unarmed, and blind sighted their son for the victory.

"I picked it up casually in the States. They're mad for it over there." That sated him. Reynard was left to lick his wounds, while his parents collected plates. He'd done it last night, they told him, which implied a rather democratic approach to table clearing. On this occasion however they were also collecting dessert from the kitchen.

Jessy was so high on the thrill of his victory, petty as it was and it was petty, that he forget why he'd been avoiding looking at Reynard. He remembered though. It was when Reynard started to smile. His father had a similar smile when he and Jessy were younger. It was a smile that said: I hope you've been taking notes and practising, because there's about to be a short quiz on everything you've learned and if you get even one question wrong you'll be laughed out of my classroom. Also we'll be taking on the world later, so I hope you're ready for that as well.

Only Reynard's was worse. Reynard's was tinged with the suggestion of mischief that involved the other party losing their pants as well as their dignity. You could instantly imagine the person with that smile leaving you standing in naked in a room alone, suddenly wondering how they'd talked you to take your pants off in the first place. And the room was in another house. I'm sorry officer, it seemed to make so much sense when my friend said it. He'd also seemed to come to some sort of decision which was... troubling.

"Mom, Dad, I'm not really in the mood for dessert. Can I go to my room? I've got homework." In English. He wanted Jessy to understand.

"Oui. Bonne nuit, mon petite chou-fluer!"

Reynard fixed Jessy with a look. One that said, 'You may have won the battle, but I'm about to win the war.' Then slowly widened his grin, and began to get shorter. No that wasn't it. He was disappearing under the table.

Jessy stared at the empty space Reynard's body had occupied for a moment, and just ran through what exactly was going on. Was he playing the tail grabbing game again? He actually tried to look round the table side, half expecting to see a wagging bushy tail waiting to be yanked, so married was he to the concept.

He even continued to believe it right up until the point he felt his fly being undone.

Okay. Not good.

What did he do in the circumstance? Get up, yes that seemed the... Alex and Courgette had just returned with dessert and there was no way he could stand up now without them seeing that his fly was undone, and then they'd probably want to know why he had a semi (a new landspeed record he was sure). And then they probably want to look under the table and see-iiiieeee.

Reynard stuck his tongue down his sheath, and for a moment Jessy's field of view narrowed as he involuntary went cross-eyed. Fox boy would not be waiting for Jessy to get hard, oh no. He was going to ram his tongue in and lap that fucker to attention right from the base.

"So Jessy," Alex ladled the guest a heaping of chocolate mousse before setting down to his own portion, "what's the company got you doing now?"

This was how Jessy responded, albeit in a soft tone and every once-and-a-while his vowels were given a bit too much emphasis. So while what he meant was to say, "Well essentially I'm less about building team networks, and more about maintaining them. It's a high tier desk job, really." It instead came out, "Wheel essentially I'm less about bhilding team networks, and mhoore about mayhntaining them. It's high teear desk job, rheeeally."

Meanwhile Jessy's inner monologue was more akin to, 'Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Okay, remain calm. Remain focused. Maintain eye contact with Alex and Courgette, and affect casual dinner conversation. Do nothing to allude to the fact that their son currently has your cock in his mouth. Oh god that feels good. Where did this little shit learn how to do this?'

Amazingly, Jessy was able to keep his head afloat. It likely had something to do with the sheer absurdity of the scenario, but Alex and Courgette seemed not to catch on. Reynard seemed to have enough sense to not try and make Jessy give the game away, so while he infrequently gave suggestions that he had the skill to make Jessy scream out both his and his god's name whenever he so choose, he seemed content to keep things relatively low key. Jessy could have really melted into the moment, and even found it relaxing were it not for the other two diners. He avoided crying out by keeping his face stuffed with mousse in place of air, all the while silently hoping that, although this was the best thing ever, Reynard would decide he'd made his point and stop.

Reynard however, was determined to make his victory complete and doggedly kept his lips wrapped around Jessy's cock. Inevitably Jessy, despite willing himself to think of really old ladies, began to feel the results of fourteen days of abstinence bubbling to a climax.

So he came. He came a lot. And by Christ did Reynard want him to know about it. Every flick of his tongue made sure to caress as much of his pulsating cock as it could, and in such a way as to draw out his orgasm for as long as mortally possible. Yes I did make you come you old bugger, what of it? And yes, I am going to stay her nursing your dick while it very slowly recedes into your sheath, big whup, want to fight about it?

"May I take your plate, Jessy?" Courgette stretched out her hands.

"Yes!" Jessy answered a little too loudly. "Thank you."

Courgette and Alex left the table with the plates. There was something to be said of the service of this house. The cockwarmer even did up his fly for him after.

"Are they gone?" Came a whisper from the region of his groin. He looked down to see a little black noise protruding from under the table cloth.

"Yes." He resigned.

"Good." And then like a triumphant butterfly, Reynard emerged from beneath the tablecloth with nonchalant elegance and quietly padded down the hallway with nary a glance back at his defeated foe. But he did leave Jessy some parting words of. Specifically, "See you tonight."

Crap.