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Hal needs to fix the cracks in his office ceiling. I lie staring up at them and then the inside of a chocolate-brown ear blocks them from my view, followed by russet red fur and then a pair of blue eyes. I squint and re-focus, meeting the eyes as I run my paws down the naked body of their owner, feeling the warm and sleek muscled curves. His weight on me is a good pressure, like the weight of my own muscles following a workout or a football game, and the blue of his eyes is the color of a cloudless sky in summer stretching from one horizon to the other.

I stare up and feel like time has stopped. The concept doesn't bother me. If there's been any point in my life where I'd happily just hover forever, it's here, coming down from some pretty amazing make-up sex, with the fox I love on top of me. I don't have to think about what happened yesterday or two weeks ago, or what might happen tomorrow or even in five or ten minutes. I'm here in this moment, my heart full of love and peace.

The blue eyes blink. "Time to talk now?" Lee murmurs, his voice vibrating against my chest.

Time starts again. His breath ruffles my whiskers, and I snap back to reality, to the fox's face above mine, all the details of his red and white fur, his long whiskers, and the slit pupils in his blue eyes. I've seen him so much in my imagination since we fought, but nothing, nothing replaces the solid reality of him, the creases in the fur around his eyes where he smiles at me, the sharp strong scent of him in my nostrils.

I'm lazy from post-sex haze, warm down in my sheath, and the memory of our lovemaking insists that I keep this conversation at a distance. I don't want to rip the scabs off of our relationship just yet, and yet I want to have this talk with him. Sex is only half of what I've missed while we've been apart. The ache for someone to talk to, to share the highs and lows of life with, is almost as strong as my pent up physical urges. My arms lie tight across his back, holding him to me as though he might float away up through one of the cracks in the ceiling. "I think we need to fuck again," I say. "I don't have two weeks of frustration out of me yet."

He laughs and kisses my nose with a soft brush of his tongue. "My, my."

"I'm serious," I say, and the words spill out of me, giving voice to that ache in my chest. "You know how much stress I've been under? Not just the championship game, but losing it in the last minute, and defending Strike to the team and going on a double date with him..."

"Wait, what?" His eyes focus in on me now. "Okay, tell me about this double date."

So I keep my paws on his hips, take a breath, and tell him how Lightning Strike, our egocentric star wide receiver, went out with the actress from the beer commercial I did with him, "and you know he had all that tantric bullshit about not having sex during the season, but he had his paws all over her tits and he went back to her place," and how she brought a gay snowshoe hare friend who I shared a milkshake with after the fancy dinner at the exclusive Crystal City restaurant.

Lee narrows his eyes. "Is that a euphemistic milkshake?"

I don't think he's really pissed at me. "Probably. I think it said that on the menu."

The corners of his mouth twitch. "I mean--"

"I know what you mean, doc." I squeeze him. "No, it was a real milkshake, and he gave me his phone number, but only in case I wanted to talk about...gay problems with him. He has an on-again, off-again boyfriend and I think he wanted to be able to tell him he went on a date with a football player."

He relaxes, but this is close enough to the thing I do have to tell him that I better do it now. I get the words out fast. "But I did have another guy's paws on my cock."

The smile freezes and fades, and he swallows, and then nods. "I guess you had the right to," he says, but his voice is dull. "Was he good?"

"His muzzle, too," I say, "but I didn't come. I stopped."

He doesn't say anything, so I go on, aware of his sheath pressed against my stomach, mine against his thigh. "It was Argonne, the groupie who reminds me of you."

"Was it because he reminds you of me?"

"Yeah." I bite my lip.

He drops his muzzle into the crook of my neck and exhales. "Why did you stop?"

"Uh. Because he'd just blown someone else on the team and I smelled it on his breath."

That brings his head up again and his voice regains some passion. "Who was it? Could you tell?"

"Yeah." I probably shouldn't tell him, but I think, selfishly, that he'll be excited and I can win points with him if I do. "It was Colin. Can you believe that?"

He blinks and then nods slowly. "It's kind of stereotypical, right? The homophobe is the one getting the secret blow jobs?"

"Yeah. I just wish he wasn't a fox. I think..." I rub my paws down Lee's fur and rest them on his rear again. "Well, I yelled at him in the locker room."

"The locker room." He raises his eyebrows.

"The shower, actually."

"I see."

"We weren't naked. Anyway, he doesn't view it as cheating on his wife because he thinks it's not real sex. So I threaten him because I treat what we do as real."

Lee's paws find my sides and hold me, but he doesn't say anything. I rub at the small of his back. "You're not mad at me? For letting Argonne--"

He brings one paw to my lips. "I'm not that mad," he says. "But you don't need to keep talking about it. If I'm around, do you want to see him again?"

"No. Even if you're not." I pause. "Are you going to be around?"

His paws slide down my sides, gentle, conscious of my rib injury, which to be honest isn't all that bad, not now, not with him here. "I think that's one of the things we should talk about," he says. "I want to be," he hurries to add. "But I want to make sure we can be together without...you know, without betraying who we are."

"I'm pretty sure we can do that."

"Yeah, well," he nuzzles me. "I just watched my parents end a twenty-five year marriage, so forgive me for being a little skittish about things."

"Did you hear from your mother?" The words are out before I can stop them, and then I laugh and rub his rear. "Sorry. You don't have to answer that until we get clothes back on."

"Yeah." He nips at my neck, and reaches back with one paw to drag claws up my sheath, which makes me shiver. "I think most of the stuff I need to tell you is better done with clothes on."

"Sorry about saying my stuff," I say, only I'm not really, and he's getting me hard again.

His paw rubs more firmly into my hardness. "I'm not. I mean, I'm just going to make damn sure you remember how much better I am than any other fox, or any hare, or Strike's big-chested girlfriend..."

I squirm and press a finger down his rear through the lube-slickened fur until I find his entrance, which is still slick enough for that finger to slide into easily. "I think it's time to stop talking and fuck again," I say.

He pants, and thrusts his cock into my stomach fur. "I think you're right, stud," he says.

This time, I kneel and he sits in my lap. With some adjustments, he wraps both legs around me, and I thrust up and into him. Just like twenty minutes ago, I want to crush him against me and never let go.

He moves up and down, slender muscled body against my chest, warm rear around my cock. I reach between us and wrap my paw around his sticky shaft, finding it as ready as I was. My other arm holds him against me by his back, and both his arms lock around my neck. I'm amazed all over again at how light he feels against me, how natural, like a part of me that had been missing for two weeks.

In this position, he's very slightly taller than me and gets to look down, which I think he's enjoying. Above and beyond the tiger cock in his rear and the paw on his shaft, that is. Because we both just came recently, the buildup to orgasm is slow and languid, until we reach the tipping point, and then I squeeze him and rasp harshly into his shoulder, pulling him tight against me and shoving my hips hard up against him, my shaft all the way inside as I shudder and come again. Once I've finished, I stroke him until he twists against me and clings to my neck and cries out, adding another spurt of stickiness to my paw and his sheath.

And then I just hold him like that, and he holds me, and I press my nose into his cheek ruff and say, "I love you, fox. I love the hell out of you. Don't you ever run out on me again."

"Never," he breathes. "Never, tiger. I love you too. I missed you so much."

I squeeze his cock and pull back to kiss him. "Yeah," I say. "I can tell."

*

He assures me Hal won't mind if we use his shower, and though I'm self-conscious about it, I squeeze in anyway to at least wash the fox jizz out of my fur. Then we're dressed, and Lee rolls up the sheets as ordered, and stands at the door with his bag packed and his tail wagging. We get into my truck and head for home.

I should be happier, with the weight off my mind, and he seems cheerful, but I can't forget that he's got things to tell me as well. "Why didn't you drive your car over?" I ask.

He leans against the door, tail flicking lazily behind him. "Hal offered to come get me, and I didn't think I should drive."

That might have been a sign I ignored, that he left his car in front of my apartment building. And I'm reassured, hearing that he was messed up, too. I've thrown out the sheets I shredded when I was crying over him leaving, so if I want him to know what I went through, I'm going to have to tell him. But not now.

Instead, I focus on the memory of him being messed up from whatever was going on in his head at the time. "Do you want to talk now or back in the apartment?"

"Oh," he says, "it's late." But his tail stills, and curls under the car seat. "Do you want to be upset tonight or in the morning?"

"Should probably get it over with. But let's wait until I'm back in the apartment."

"I'll ask you to hand me your phone before I do."

I frown. "Really? I thought you were just going to talk about why you think we should re-evaluate our relationship."

"There's that." His paws fidget. "But there's also news, and it's going to make you angry. I can't sugarcoat it and I wouldn't anyway."

"Did you..." I blink. "With Hal?"

He barks a laugh. "Hal has a girlfriend. I didn't even fantasize about him. Well...when I was really miserable I fantasized that he'd hold me. He did hug me a couple times when I cried."

I must look guilty, because he pats my knee. "I don't blame you for all of it, tiger. I mean, you've got things to feel guilty about, but me being miserable and sick and drunk--"

"Drunk?"

"One night. Maybe two." The memory flicks through his eyes and back to a twitch in his ears. "Anyway, that's not one of them. The point is, no, I didn't fuck Hal and I wouldn't have been in shape even if he did want to. Um, I did talk to my Mom, though. She apologized for burning my pride jacket and other clothes. And she's quitting Families United."

I exhale. "That's good news. So is she okay with you being gay now?"

"Well, no. But at least we can talk about it. A little bit." He leans against his door and looks at me, his big ears mostly upright, both paws on the knee closest to me. "Honestly, I don't know how to get any closer. I focused so much on getting her out of that whack-job religious hate group that I never thought she might leave it and still not be okay with who I love."

"I'm not so sure my parents still are." It's reflex, that statement, and then I review yesterday's dinner with them. "Mom is. I think. She asked about you a lot...yesterday."

I can't believe it was only yesterday I played in the UFL championship game. So much has changed in twenty-four--no, it's like nine-thirty now, so more like thirty or thirty-one hours. At three o'clock yesterday afternoon, the Firebirds still had a shot at their first UFL championship, I was the only openly gay player, and Lee and I were exchanging hesitant, broken text messages. Then we lost the game in the last minute, Aran Polecki came out to the world right after that, we flew home this morning and I met a kangaroo rat kit who told me I saved his life by coming out, and then I pushed aside all the doubt and worry, focusing on how much I missed Lee and love him, and I went to see him for the first time in almost two weeks. And now we're talking in the truck just like old times.

He doesn't say anything about my mom at first, and then he says, "I'm looking forward to catching up with her again. And seeing your dad. I respect him, and I'm starting to like him."

I laugh. "Really?"

"Well." He grins. "Once we got past the initial difficulties..."

"And you both got out of the hospital."

"...I think we both care about you a lot, and it helps that we both like football, too."

I chuckle and shake my head. "You're amazing. If you'd told me in September that you'd be looking forward to seeing my dad..."

"It's a challenge." His tail gets a little life in it. "I mean, he was ready to knock my teeth out, and a month later we were standing around at Thanksgiving."

"Well, that's Dad," I say. "He might knock your teeth out, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like you."

He rubs the joint of his thumb, the one Dad sprained. "Anyway. It makes me feel good to build that relationship. And it's good for our relationship, too."

"Is this part of the talk that was going to wait until we're at the apartment?"

He turns his head to look out the windshield. "Ten more minutes." He smiles. "Tell me about Polecki. He got in touch with you?"

"Yeah. Did you get him my number?" He inclines his head. "Thanks for that. He texted. We sat in a little gay café and formed the first UFL Gay Alliance."

He laughs. "Any other members?"

"His boyfriend is a Yerba player. Doesn't want to come out yet. Aran told me who he is, but..."

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me. Maybe I'll meet him this offseason. I'd like to meet Polecki, at least."

"You'd like him. He's very...coyote. So yeah, we just talked about being gay. He said that coming out on the podium after the championship was the hardest thing he's ever done. He was terrified they were going to turn on him and start booing."

Lee snorts. "After he brought them a championship?"

"You never know."

"True." He rubs his whiskers. "I'm glad he's a nice guy. I was worried he'd be an asshole."

"Nah." I turn onto my street. "It's been good to talk to him and Machaine about being gay, you know? Not that I can't talk to you, but you're my boyfriend, so..." It doesn't sound good when I say it like that. I stop at a light and turn my eyes on him, hoping he'll understand.

He does, reliably clever that way when he wants to be. "When you talk to me, it has weight. Yeah, I know. It was good to talk to Hal about our relationship, too. Gave me perspective. Though he was also trying to get me out of his apartment, I think."

"I'm glad you and he are friends," I say, grateful for his understanding.

"I owe him something big for letting me stay so long, and for his friendship."

My building comes into sight in the next block. "I don't think he thinks you owe him anything."

"No, but I should get him something anyway." He taps his paw on his knee. "If only for arranging to be out tonight."

I grin and pull into my parking garage. He goes quiet as I park, takes his bag out of the back while I take the bundle of fox-and-tiger-scented sheets, and is quiet all the way up in the elevator, sniffing around. When we get to the apartment, he stands there in the middle of the living room as I close the door behind him, and drops the bag on the floor.

The sheets go in our laundry pile in the bedroom, and when I come back, he's still standing there, sniffing the air, whiskers twitching. His eyes are dry, but he's got a look like they might not be for long, so I reach out and hold him, and he falls into my arms.

"I didn't know if I'd ever be back here again," he murmurs.

I squeeze him. "Really? Because I didn't think I'd ever be able to get rid of you."

That gets a shaky laugh from him. "It's easier than you'd think," he murmurs against me. "Just tell me to go away."

"Yeah?" I nose between his ears. "Since when did you ever listen to me?"

"More than you know." He presses his muzzle against my shoulder.

I'm happy to just hold him, to watch his tail swishing and to smell his fur. His ear flicks gently against my whiskers and his paws rub my sides. And I don't feel so bad then about losing the championship. Thinking about that, though, reminds me that there is something I am going to feel bad about, and I figure I should get it over with.

I rummage in my pocket and take out the phone. He steps back and looks down as I hold it out. "Ah," he says, taking it. He rubs his thumb across the cracks. "Already?"

"I didn't throw it. I dropped it when I was drunk, celebrating after the Boliat game."

"Guess you can buy another one." He slides it into his pocket and steps back again, holding my paws. "Okay, so, uh. Wow. I didn't want this to be the first thing we talked about when we got back here. But yeah, let's get it over with. You know that court case."

"The one about Vince King." I want to prove to him that I can say the kid's name without getting bitter or resentful about it. So I remind myself how happy I am to be here with him, how much I love him not only for himself, but also for the passion he brings to stuff like that court case, how much he wants to make everyone else's lives better. And I understand it just a little better after meeting the kangaroo rat kid in the airport. Saying the name "Vince King" makes me picture that kid killing himself, and cold fingers clamp my chest. I watch Lee with what I hope is understanding, and I don't grimace or turn away.

"Right." He holds my eyes with his, and I can see whatever it is tormenting him behind those blue irises. His paws squeeze mine. "Your brother is an attorney for the Families United side."

I listen to the words, but they don't sink in. "My brother--Gregory? Wait, how did he get involved in this?"

He takes another breath, holding my paws. "I think when I talked about Families United at Thanksgiving--well, I don't know. Maybe he was already inclined to work with them. I shouldn't blame myself until I know. But yes. I was writing a document to submit to the court talking about what Families United did to my family and how harmful they can be, and the attorney I was talking to said the court had to take into consideration that I had a relationship with someone related to the defense."

"Gregory?" I call him up in my mind: sullen and toothy, claws extended, shouting at me at Thanksgiving. "No, wait. I talked to Mom and Dad. They didn't say anything about it..." But they had been cagey about what kind of pro bono work Gregory was doing. Dad didn't approve of it. I thought that was just because it was free.

"I asked them not to tell you." Not even Lee's tail is moving. "I said you didn't need one more distraction. You already had--I mean--" Now he does duck his muzzle, eyes dropping to the ground. "I was trying not to be, but..."

"No, that would've been--I could've taken it." But I imagine the stags who called me "faggot" during the game, whether I would have thought of Gregory, whether worrying that my family was turning against me would have affected me. "But it's probably better I didn't have to." And then the familiar surge of anger. I try to rip my paws away from Lee, but only get one free. "God damn him! Did he take that case just to get back at me? All I did was be successful, but he couldn't deal with that, he has to go help some hate group?"

The fox clings to my left paw. "Dev," he says quietly. "It's not about you the person. It's about you the image, the thing you don't have as much control over. Gregory's reacting that way because, well, I don't know. With Mother, it was her looking for control in a situation where she felt helpless."

"You're defending him?" I stare down.

"I'm trying to help you understand him. I don't want you to get into a thing like I did with Mother that's going to take years to crawl out of." His ears are up and his eyes are sad.

His eyes are sad. That makes me stop. "What if he's just a fucking prick and I'm better off not talking to him at all?"

"Yeah." He smiles a little. "But what if you can show him that being gay isn't evil? What if you can change his opinion so he doesn't want to defend Families United anymore?"

"What if I change his teeth?" I mutter.

Lee squeezes my paw and I pull him against me. "I'm sorry, tiger," he says. "It sucks."

Breathing is easier with his body against mine, his scent in my nose. "What an asshole. Lion Christ." The anger comes in waves, beating against the bulwark of Lee's confidence. "I'm surprised he didn't call me to brag about it."

"He's probably not allowed to talk about it while it's going on."

"Well, he can sure as hell talk about it now. Give me my phone back."

He shifts against me. "No."

"Fox." I try to look him in the eye, but he's pressed his head into my chest. "I'm not going to break it."

"Tiger," he says, mimicking my tone, "that's not what I was worried about."

I exhale. "I'm not going to..."

He tightens his arms around me. "You're not going to do anything but come over here to the bedroom and take your clothes off and sleep next to me."

"But--"

Now he lifts his head. "If you call him, I'm going back to Hal's."

I stare. "You wouldn't."

His blue eyes challenge me and then his lips twitch in a smile. "Well. No. I probably wouldn't. But please, listen to me this time. Let's go to bed. You can yell and curse at him all you want. I've got some feelings about him bottled up I could stand to let out too."

I inhale and then hold him against me and press my muzzle between his ears. "So does this mean you're done with the case?"

He tenses, just slightly. "I, uh..."

"Because," I murmur against his ears, "I want to tell you that I'm so sorry about Vince King and that I want you to do whatever you feel like you have to do. I'm sorry for the times I thought you were using him as a stick to whack me into doing gay rights with. I'm sorry my fuckhead brother is involved and that your--your mom is involved, or was. I'm sorry that this guy who reached out to you is gone, and I want you to tell me that it's not your fault."

The tension drops out of him as I talk, and he shudders against me. "If I'd reached out to him, though--"

"No," I say firmly. "What he did was a sad choice, but it was his choice, and the people who made him feel that way were not involved with you either. You responded to his e-mail, you did the best you could. You can't just go up and introduce yourself to gay kids who might not want to be outed."

"All right." He takes in a shaky breath. "It's--it's not my fault."

"Good." I kiss between his ears.

"I don't know if I believe it yet."

My paws keep him against me as I push him toward the bedroom. "Then work on that. And I'll be here."

We get into the bedroom, mostly undressed and lying together on the bed, and then he's looking past me at the dresser and his paw stills on my stomach. "You put the picture away?"

My ears flush. "Kind of." I point to the corner of the wall where the framed picture hit, where jagged gleams of light show that the shattered glass is still there.

His ears dip. "I'll clean it up in the morning," he says quietly.

"No." I cover his paw with mine. "I threw it, I'll clean up."

"I'm sorry I put you through all that," he says.

A little of the anger that propelled the picture against the wall surfaces before I bury it again. "You said you'd never leave."

"I didn't want to hurt you." His fingers curl in my stomach fur. "It seemed like the lesser of two hurts."

He's just made the same promise not to leave ten minutes ago. "Next time," I begin, and he noses my whiskers.

"No next time." He kisses the side of my mouth. "If there's something so bad I'm worried it'll interfere with your job, I'll tell you and we'll--we'll figure out a way to keep it off limits."

"Me too," I say, "although what the hell could be more distracting than the last four months? If we can survive that, we can survive anything."

"Yeah." He lies back beside me and rubs his fingers across my stomach again. I've got one arm behind his head and my paw on his side, the fragile steel of him under my fingers wonderfully familiar and yet so irresistible that I want to keep exploring it over and over, his thick winter coat coming off in my claws, his muscles shifting. I think he's lost some weight but I don't want to say anything about that.

I don't want to say anything about anything, just lie here with him, and that's good enough for him, too. Vaguely I remember we were supposed to be yelling about Gregory, but that anger is now muffled by love and contentment, and I leave it lying there.