The artic fox adjusts his glasses. With one hand he balances a fancy looking glass filled with eggnog, with the other occasionally popping a small or oeuvres in his mouth. What was he doing here again? Oh year right, his idiot sister decided that the holidays was an excellent time to let her entire family meet her boyfriend's/fiancé's/soon-to-be-husband's family. And here he is, because he could not rightly get out from under it, he is her younger brother after all, and right now he is feeling profoundly uncomfortable.
	
	He never feels quite comfortable in other people's houses, let alone in one in which everything is expensive... or at least looks like it is expensive. Which brings him to the heart of the problem of having this little arrangement; his family is trash, or could damn well pass for it. His sister's boyfriend's family is, however, rich, to say the least, investment bankers, and this was their 'humble home'. Of course he is happy for his sis, a name like Brecorowich does not get you really far, nor does the fact that half of your cousins cannot distinguish the front end of a shirt from the back. Besides she has found her true love, or at least she was about to marry someone rich, who did not insist on prenup (yey), or so he heard. She was definitely doing something right, but he hardly believes that it is smart to let her fiancé's family meet the mess they were marrying into before the deal was well and truly sealed, either that or at least when it was too late to properly back out. He eyes Aunt Sally who has gotten hold of Sharleen's uncle in law, poor man. Personally he would have made a selection of who to invite, family squabbles be damned. Maybe she's got an ace up the hole, like being pregnant... ... He should ask. 
	
	Oh crap. He's almost spotted by Nanna Brecorowich, mother of his grandmother, an old lady well into her eighties (Eighty and already great grandmother, it say something at what age most of family members got started with having kids... Does Sharleen know? If not, someone better tell her, she would have to hurry). The old biddy seemed obsessed with cornering him at all the parties and regale to him stories of her life in Paris, where she almost married the Duke of Parma (all lies, by the way). It was either that or be grilled about his love life. Questions like: If he was married already? (no), if he had a girlfriend? (errr.... No....) If he had met someone nice? (nope), when could she expect her great-grandchildren? (How about never). Luckily she gets intercepted by a cousin (thank the gods), giving him time to sneak towards the door to make a quick getaway. She gets introduced to the lucky guy who was going to be her great-grandson in law. All the better, let him get bored by her stories. He has to move quickly before dear old boyfriend thinks of a great excuse to escape, like... he is needed in the kitchen... hmmm they probably have staff for that. Well whatever.
	
	"Ah there you are!" Fuck. "My dear baby brother!" He has to do his best not to roll his eyes. Too late to make a clean getaway now.
"Hey sis nice party." She smiles, obviously happy with the compliment, though she hardly pays any attention to it, perhaps it is just a reflex.
"But" (dramatic pause) "You are not wearing the tie I gave you." (Oh dear anything, please shoot me now.)
"I have it here with me?!" He replies sheepishly, pulling it free from his pocket, where it sat, more or less neatly balled up after he had gotten rid of the thing as soon as he was able. He absolutely hates the feeling of a tie around his neck, it feels like a noose. Besides he wore a shirt, which is big progress for someone who makes due with mostly t-shirts and tank tops (as he said before... trash... He goes to college and all (the first in his family), largely thanks to a state scholarship, but still, he's trash.)
"Oh come on!" she chides him as if he's four years old, she his mum, and he just smeared chocolate pudding all over his new shirt, wait did he? No. It's a tone that is caught between angry and amused (kids will do the darnest things), yet always patronising... to the core, and almost immediately he feels the urge to stick out his tongue... or kick her in the chins, perhaps both, right before she can grab him by the scruff of his neck and drag him towards the bathtub, kicking and screaming, for a good scrub.
	
	"Ahhhhh, will you please put it on... for me? For my special day?" And... he hates her... profoundly. He grits his teeth. "Fine I'll do it... right now..."
"Great you're the best!" She smooches him on the cheek. "And when you come back I'll introduce you to Robert's parents." (Ho, ho, fucking ho.) And seriously Robert? Of course it has to be a yup name like Robert. Most likely it was something like 'Robert Jr.' and when he was young he was called that; 'Junior'. This is completely beside the fact that she pretends that talking with two people three times his age is a reward. He can already predict which topics will be addressed, it will be either: A) His college performance (or A1 his plans for after college (no idea)) or B) the state of the economy, about which he has no opinion what so freaking ever. To make ends meet he works part-time in a hardware store, all he notices of the economy is the busy days and the less busy days... and the days they have a sale (which usually coincides with the busy days)
	
	She, Sharleen, flutters on to the next social situation which needs interfering. He, with a sigh, resigns himself to his fate, although momentarily entertaining the idea of postponing the inevitable. However, from the corner of his eye he catches Sharleen watching him intently and he knows better than to openly defy her, especially now (the curse of being the youngest, always the appeaser). This is especially true when you have an older sister, to whom you should take an example... unless you take that command too literal and you get an earful, plus years of psych visits.
	
	He heads for the hallway, remembering a large hanging mirror there. Apart from having the feeling of being choked to death, there is another reason why he hates neckties; no matter how hard he tires the damn thing... always... comes out... crooked. After the seventh time retying it, he gives up, whatever comes next will have to do... ... ... ... Ok one more try because for crying out loud this looks ridiculous. One end is barely hanging on, while the other is dangling somewhere between his knees. Supposedly this is a skill 'you will get the hang off', yeah sure. After the ninth time... it isn't still real pretty, but good enough. He fumbles a bit with the knot, trying to get it straighter. Mentally he promises his sister that he'll do better at her wedding... or perhaps she expects him in a tux... gods he hopes not... bowties even worse! Probably not... he hopes... It all depends on etiquette, she's obsessed with it, and for the life of him he can't figure out why. Perhaps she's overcompensating for her family, but there ain't enough etiquette in the world to balance that out, but maybe she just enjoys torturing people... or perhaps just him. Forget it. He sighs, time to get back.
	
	"Hu-umpf!" He hasn't really been paying attention to where he is going, instead casting a last glance in the mirror to make really, really sure that it is passable. He hates to come back here again after being sternly reproached by 'Sistermum'. Whatever it was he hit, it was hard... and warm... Slightly dazed he feels up the hard surface, until he realizes it is a person. "Oh sorry." He quickly withdraws his paws, looking up along the athletic form of a wolf, who in turn looks down on him and grins. The fox blushes.
"No problemo." The guy snickers.
	
	The wolf is young, or younger... than him at least. If he would have to guess, somewhere around the eighteen mark, perhaps younger if the guy *cough* *cough* developed well. And he works out, that much is clear, and judging from the cocky grin he does not lack in self-confidence.
"Errr..." The fox hesitates, brain wracking through the database of faces and names that for some reason never really is in order.
"Thomas" The canine says. Of course it is. "Though most call me Tommy." Poor kid. He's probably a rower, either that or one of those sleek water polo guys, perhaps plays football (soccer for the Americans).
"Oh, yeah, nice to meet you. I'm Aidan."
"Ah, Sharleen's nerdy baby brother."
"I errr..." He stammers, taken aback by the strange conflict between Tommy's tone and what he is saying. The former suggest a pleasant conversation, the latter an insult.
"My brother's description doesn't do you justice." Surprised, the sudden turn in events leaves the fox just staring back, numbly. 
"Err... is that a good thing?" He finally asks.
"My brother's poor description?" He shrugs with an ever charming smile. "Couldn't hurt you, my brother is shit at describing things."
	
	The fox nervously readjusts his glasses, not really sure what to make of all of this. Does he like me or not? Anything the guy says seems immediately soothed by that smile, the happy sparkle in his eyes. The way he looks at the fox, making Aidan blush. He fumbles with the hem of his shirt. All of this isn't really helping his case.
"Well, great party..." He tries, having decided the best course of action is just change the topic all together, to something safe.
"You think?" The wolf asks with a small shrug. "Not really my cup of tea, too uptight."
"Oh thank the gods." The fox exclaims, relieved that he isn't the only one who'd rather be... well in any other place than this one, all of this much to Tommy's amusement. It is rather odd how a guy as tall as him, almost 6'9", could still be called 'Tommy'. If he didn't wear his outfit, jeans, shirt with the top few buttons open showing of a bit of skin, with such carelessness everything about him would have screamed 'trust fund errr... Tommy'. What he missed was the blazer, and the standing up movie-rich-kid hairdo, kept up by a lot of hairspray, or gel... or whatever they use to keep that up. "The only reason I'm here is 'cause it's my sis. Not my first choice of venue."
"It is not? You too good for our house?"
"What?! No! It's just, I mean... what I wanted to say was, I'm just... not really comfortable in a tie?"
"So you blame the tie on my house?" The wolf asks with a smirk on his lips.
	
	He's not really doing well at this whole conversation thing.
"By the way," Tommy says. "It's crooked."
"Huh?"
Again that easy confident grin as he reaches for it, fingers slip up, over and around it, easing it straight and makes it... that much more presentable.
"Err... thanks?"
"You're welcome."
And now the fox just stands there gawking rather stupidly at the canine, not really knowing how to continue.
"You were ripping on my house." The canine reminds him.
"What? No, I wasn't, I just-"
"Relax." The canine says with a snicker, obviously getting a kick out of the fox's embarrassment. "It's not as bad as it looks. Unless of course you hate the parties that are given here... and you can't manage to avoid them."
"Yeah... my sis arranged this one."
"So you said."
"She loves this."
"So I've noticed."
"I think it only reduces her chances of marrying your brother."
He snickers. "How so?"
Aidan makes a face. "Have you seen my family? Half of them would not know what manners are even if it slapped them in the face."
"Oh really?"
"Just look at them." He points. "Most look like they walked through a vintage sixties hippy store! I mean for crying out loud Aunt Elly wore her self-dyed jeans!"
"Ah so that is your aunt, I wondered which family she belonged to." Tommy remarks bemused.
"My family consists out of misfits and idiots" He crosses his arms. "They wouldn't even know how to behave in my sister's fiancé's-"
"My brother's."
"Your brother's... err... right...world"
	
	He looks up at the tall canine, who still looks down on him, very much enjoying himself. Aidan opens his mouth to apologise for... well something, but before he can Tommy interrupts him. "Come I'll show you the house. Give you a tour."
Aidan glances nervously past the canine into the busy room. "Well my sister was planning to introduce me to your parents... hence the tie."
The wolf snorts. "I see... sooo you really want to hang out with a pair of investment bankers who are, though kind and all, obsessed with work (my dad), or with being a good socialite (my mother)?"
"Errr..." The fox eyes the other male. "Not really."
"That's what I thought," grin, "come. I'm sure you won't be missed, not until the food arrives, and besides, "he winks, "if half what you say about your family is true, your sister will be too busy to even notice."
	
	There it is again, that twinge of hesitation... then again his idea of a fun day wasn't one in which he spend most of his time with a bunch of strangers... or even his own extended family for that matter, at least not if he could help it. The canine is already heading down the hall. Aidan's eyes rest a moment just below that bushy, swishing tail and in that split instance he decides: aw, fuck it. Perhaps it is just the eggnog talking, or just his own desire, doesn't matter.
"Your brother never mentioned you."
"Well that sounds like him alright." He opens a side door, "Dining room." Aidan casts a quick glance inside. Fancy, as expected. The chairs look old, the carpet older. The table, like the chair frames, are mahogany, and there is a large china cabinet against the left wall. "It's for private dinner parties only." Where do they keep the public dinner parties? Probably out somewhere, a fancy hotel or something. 
"Better not let Uncle Roy in here. Cigarette burns in everything." 
Tommy snickers. "Lovely family."
"I warned you, my family are a bunch of animals."
The guy snorts. "My uncle keeps getting sued for harassment in the workplace... and he has no qualms with feeling up his niece's ass."
"Oh wouw."
"You're not the only family who has issues." The wolf says leading him on past the 'salon', where a bunch of old guys (Tommy's family) are sipping scotch, towards the kitchen where several round bellied aunts and uncles (Aidan's family) are ready to ambush the catering people who leave the kitchen with the platters of food before they can good and well reach the living room.
	
	The canine opens a door and leads him through a fancy glass enclosed porch at the rear of the house, overlooking the neatly trimmed field of grass. There are two chairs, a small side table between them, and a large fern in a pot near the door. It smells mouldy, the way these glass enclosed places always do.
"Aunt Madelaine joined a cult, gave up all her money. Dad had to work her out of her part of the family business, nasty lawsuit. He's... not really letting her near the house anymore." He continues.
"Should you be telling strangers this?" The fox asks.
Tommy stops and the vulpes nearly walks into him again. The guy spins around and somehow manages to get the fox pinned against the nearby doorpost. One paw supports his weight, planted firmly above Aidan's head. He leans closer. "You are practically family... well if we get through this whole ordeal without relatives trying to burn down the house... or the uncle trying to make a grab for the bride-to-be's backside, beside... You are kinda cute." He says with a big toothy grin. He grabs the leg of Aidan's glasses and tilts them upward, turning the world into a messy blur for the near-sighted fox. "Especially if you take of those glasses."
"Ye, but I'm blind as a bat if I do." He replies, snatching them back and planting them firmly on his nose.
"Get contacts." The wolf says with a shrug, as the fox twists free from his grasp.
"And you said I was, what again, oh yeah 'Sharleen's nerdy baby brother'." He sneers
"My brother's words not mine." He says following Aidan into the room, a study of some sort, with large bookcases lining the walls. "Plus, I like nerdy."
	
	Aidan tries to get as far away from the canine as he can, walking to the other end of the room, pas the large leather arm chair with the oak wood side table carrying a silver plate with crystal scotch glasses and one of those fancy, decorated carafes containing the gold brown liquid, only stopping once he's in front of the bookcases, right about where a large collection of leather bound volumes of the Encyclopaedia Britannica start. Tommy leans casually against the heavy desk near the window.
"Your brother never said that to me."
"Of course he doesn't, same reason why he doesn't talk about me."
"And what is that reason?"
The wolf puts on an accent. "Poor form, old chap." The fox makes a face, Tommy rolls his eyes. "If you don't have anything good to say, keep your trap shut." He clarifies. "Besides forget my big, stuck up bro, who's interested in what he has to say?"
Aidan turns, "And why do you... ... ... What are you doing?  He asks, gawking as the canine, the son of a wealthy investment banker and his wife, his soon to be brother in law has, in the middle of the fucking party, in a private study but still, has taken of his shirt. One moment it hangs free, unbuttoned, showing off that little stripe of skin, but now he smoothly slips it down his arms and carelessly tosses it on the table behind him. 
"Like what you see?" He asks, rather pointlessly as the fox's eyes nearly seem to pop from their sockets, slowly sliding up and down the planes of his chest.
	
	The vulpes swallows hard. The canine doesn't wait, but rises, paws heading for his fly. Aidan blinks and the jeans pool around the other male's ankles. That guy... is a god. He's glad that he is wearing his glasses, allowing him to give the guy, who was sculpted like a Greek statue, a once over. His eyes trail up the long legs, following the grooves between his muscles, hanging just a half minute too long on the bulge so neatly wrapped in dark cotton of his underwear, upward over his chest, along the neck to the grinning face, resting finally on those eyes that capture his gaze and twinkle merrily as he stares back, with his ears all perked up happily, his tail occasionally giving a languid swish.
	
	He, Aidan, has to look rather stupid, well as stupid as a guy can look while keeping his clothes on at a party (as one should!), mouth ajar, ears in that quarter to two position, not really sure what to do with himself.
"D-does your father approve?" He blurts out, before being able to stop himself, realizing how completely daft he sounds. Although, it is exactly the thing his mother would say when faced with this situation, although she would cross her arms and 'tut' with it as well. He doesn't have the focus to do that however, being far too preoccupied with the beauty made flesh right here in front of him. The (rather) stupid question seems only to mildly annoy the canine, who snorts and crosses his arms while rolling his eyes, making Aidan feel that much more stupid.
"My dad is a controlling, neo-conservative nut. So no, he doesn't approve." But there is that grin again, "but what he doesn't know..." His tone is half mocking, like replying to the question whether or not he liked peanut butter over jam on his toast, something completely irrelevant in this situation. The more obvious question like: how does he know that Aidan would not object to him dropping trou, does not even pop up in the fox's confused mind. His mouth opens and closes, like a fish on dry land. The question of 'why' is, of course, as equally pointless, just look at the guy!
	
	"Oh gods." He swallows, watching the canine approaching him in what seems slow motion.
Tommy smirks. "Glad to hear you like it." He says in that same mocking tone.
Aidan takes a step back, his brain racing, getting him nowhere, eyes fixed on that guy, tail swishing happily, ears pricked forward. His back hits the book case, nowhere to run. In one smooth motion a paw is planted against the shelf beside the fox's head, the other seizes the glass, tilting them up and gently removing them from his nose, all the while the wolf grins, facing getting closer, as he leans down for the kill. The smaller artic fox lets out a squeal as a set of warm lips get planted on his own, wet tongue sweeping out, gently following the curve of his lower lip, waiting for that hitch of breath that arrives a second later when the light form of the fox gets pushed up against the book case by the near naked form, his palms pressing against the bare chest. They push against him, the head twisting away from his. 
"My glasses," the fox mutters. "I can't see without my-" He gets cut off by Tommy, the slight pressure on his muzzle easing his head backwards till it hits the wood. 
"Seeing is overrated." The wolf whispers against his mouth, grabbing the fox's wrists, forcefully guiding the vulpes' paws against his chest, downward. A deep moan vibrates through his body, silenced by the tongue invading the virgin territory. He can't stop. His paws run over the strange and wonderfully warm flesh. The arm with his glasses wraps around his shoulders now that the canine is assure he won't make a grab for them. The other paw gently takes his wrist, thumb pressing just below the pulse, fingers sliding carefully up, intertwining with his.
	
	Every move is calculated, perfected. He quickly forgets the shelves digging into his back, only seeking more; more tongue, more skin, more everything. Tommy happily gives him what he wants, guiding the captured paw down against his chest, having it circle the nipple that is poking out despite the heat of their bodies, his tail flicks over that of the fox, stroking it almost, and in response the mindless appendix replies, like it always does. His fingers hobble over the small humps of his abs, index finger trailing the valley that runs down the middle of his stomach, reaching his navel and getting pushed on. With a quick motion the elastic band gets eased over the joined paws, allowing both to plunge inside. Tommy lets go. The body leaning against him stiffens suddenly, tail escaping the gentle touch of his own, nostrils flair, those two eyes that have been falling shut pop open. He grins, staring back into them, tongue languidly dancing in that narrow muzzle, his paw recapturing the runaway that has been yanked from his briefs. 
	
	His eyes send out the message that it is o.k., letting out a soft grunt as his entire body gently collides with the fox's, guiding the paw down again until he can press it flatly against his bulge, rocking into the limp palm with another soft grunt, eyelids fluttering before he forces it again past the elastic band of his underwear, this time not letting go , staring deeply into the blue eyes, until the tension leaves the lithe form and a shudder shoots up his spine when the rough fingers fold themselves around the velvety flesh, trailing over it, trying to find out just how big it is. A soft squeal gets ripped from his throat as Aidan's thumb flicks over the head. He grins and feels the corners of the fox's mouth twitch upwards as well. He never expected to get the fox this far, despite his own bravado. He toys with a button, feeling it pop open before he slips on to the next. 
	
	He takes a long shuddering breath, the fox's paw doing wonders in his pants. He remembers something, slipping back up to undo the tie around the other's neck, easing the knot free, and yanking the whole length of silky fabric free from around the other's throat, before returning to his new mission, getting that shirt undone. Reaching the last few buttons he pushes the shirt open. That first sensation of skin on skin makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The fox seems to feel the same, letting out a long moan. For the first time he gets the idea of the guy's body, toned, though not buff. He softly snickers, the word 'twinky' coming to mind. 
	
	The fox is moving with him now, as it seems the age of nervousness is at an end. The fox pushes against him, and before he knows it, it is he who is being pressed against the bookcase, the shelf with the Histories digging into his backside. He is not really unhappy about this, although for the first time the kiss gets broken as Aidan pulls back his head. A fragile rope of spit still connects their muzzles. The fox doesn't intend on disappointing, leaning forward, gently nipping him in the neck just behind his ear. "Ahn..." His hip shoots up, apparently there is a whole lot he doesn't yet know about himself; proven again by the strange sensation that spreads through his body when that mouth trails a path down his neck towards his chest. He grunts, deciding to forgive Aidan for letting his paw slip from his underwear, just to see where this is going, smelling himself as the paw gently place themselves on his ribs, the muscles quiver as he lets out another soft grunt. 
	
	He still tastes him, eggnog, fish and something else, something... profoundly enjoyable. Fingers weave themselves through the smooth strands of Aidan's head fur, the grey peeking through the white so prettily. He lets out a content sigh. , while letting the fox... His eyes fall on the large leather chair that is just a few feet away. He grins. The king's seat, with a perfect view of the garden, and mentally chalks this one up to 'the stupid shit we do'. He lightly tugs the strands until the fox looks up from his work. It is almost too pretty to interrupt. 
	
	The fox has to squint in order to make out the canine's fuzzy features, which he just can't really get clear. Deciding to follow the orders from the slight tugs of his fur, he rises. They kiss, or rather he is kissed, eyes closing, paws resting against that warm body. He is turned back against the bookcase. He keeps his mouth open for a few seconds after Tommy has left him. His eyes flutter open, realizing that the wolf isn't coming back, catching sight of him striding through the room, light pouring in from the large windows. The black in stark contrast to the grey is... perfect. The entire room is a blur without his glasses, there are just shapes, vague outlines. He can kinda make out the desk, with the great light blue blot which is probably the canine's discarded shirt. The books on the shelves are reduced to a kaleidoscope of vague greens and browns. A small ladder fixed to a rail above the bookcase disappears in the onslaught of colour. The room smells musty, like old books and something else, he smirks, oh yea, sex and the faint trace of Tommy on his paw. "Come." Like a sailor following the serine's call, he heads for the voice. Fingers gently close around his wrist, a kiss, paws on his belt, button, fly. He lets out a soft gasp when he feels a paw sliding in cupping him, the other sliding backwards to ease the jeans over the curve of his arse. With a flop they hit the floor and he mindlessly follows the direction of a slight tug that carries him forward until he is straddling the canine in the chair, who has one paw slipped in his shirt, fondling his peck, the other fondling his arse. In an impulse he lifts his tail the moment the guy's fingers come near the base. His hands are on the canine's chest, feeling his heartbeat reverberating through his palm. 
	
	It is strange, but the fox seems to have gotten over his sense of shame rather quickly now, leaning down to test the lips of the canine for himself, a small grunts gets caught in his throat when the other's thumb plays with his nipple, the rough pad gently stroking the nub. He slides his paw down, copying the motion, leaning back on the paw, his crotch brushing up against the large bulge below him. They share a moan, bodies moving in unison, his grinding down, the other grinding up. There is no protest when the big paw slips into his boxers, nudging down the waistband, fingers digging between his cheeks, each time inching further, and with every inch gaining courage to move towards that warm centre where the ring of muscle clenches against the feather light touch.
	
	One paw rests on the hard stomach and he pushes away, his hazy eyes stare at the blurry face beneath him and he can just make out the two dark eyes of the canine. "Lube?" he asks, forgotten completely that he is supposed to be embarrassed, or be the voice of reason.
"Wh-what?"
Kiss. "Lube." He says again, his body rocking backwards against the finger as if that would clarify the point. "Hand cream, oil, anything slick."
"Oh. Table, second drawer."
He climbs off, watched by the dog who barely sits, slumping more than anything, in the chair. It feels odd going through someone else's drawers, almost like you are touching something person. This time is no different, though it is made easier because he has a goal. He has to lean forward though, so far his nose almost touches the things. It's neat in a messy way. Dozens of things are piled, stuffed and stacked, filling every inch of the drawer's storage space. Only after a little rummaging he finds what he needs, a glass pot, black cover; paw cream, the fancy kind. Not what he hoped for, but he isn't going to complain.
	
	He walks back, standing in front of the canine clad only in a pair of briefs who just keeps staring up at him. The blur of it all helps to supress a sense of self consciousness, that and his raging boner. He pushes it down, his boxers, erection whipping free, pointing boldly at the ceiling, bobbing lightly as he climbs back on, undoing the pot before placing it on the side table where Tommy has placed his glasses. The fox leans down, stealing a kiss, feeling strangely bold and giddy, his fingers dipping into the gooey mess before sliding between his cheeks. With practiced precision his fingers find their mark, slipping in and out, first a single digit, then two, then three. Tommy's body supports him, the canine's mouth swallowing the sighs. 
	
	Curious, Tommy reaches for the erection sticking out so boldly from the other guy's tail-front. The fox shudders at the stranger's paw sliding over the warm flesh. His eyes flicker up over Aidan's face, noticing how his eyelids flutter, the upper teeth chew lightly on his lip. He grins, noticing how the fox moves between his fist and the paw working his rear. With a soft grunt the fox drags them out again, leaning back, scooping up an extra load of cream, the other paw grabbing the elastic band of Tommy's briefs. He takes a small breath, dragging it down and the canine's length flops free. Taking it between thumb and forefinger he lifts it. The white mess on his free paw gets slathered over the red, beating flesh. He feels the muscles of the other male's flanks contract against the inside of his legs as the wolf lets out a shuddered groan. Aidan has little mercy. Tip to base, fingers squeeze lightly, sliding along the thick knot.
	
	The leather creaks when his nails dig into it. There is a small smile of triumph on the fox's lips. The smaller form shudders as the wolf's paw slides of the head, the palm rubbing over the sensitive tip. It stops, however, when he does as he lifts his rear. He turns his head towards the wolf. "Keep going." And Tommy complies, milking the small drops that gather on the purplish head. His canines sink into his lower lip; it's partly pride telling him not to show just how much he enjoys it, although his toes are curling. Aidan takes a deep shuddered breath and closes his eyes. On feeling alone he pushes back, holding the guy in place with just two fingers. Tommy gasps, he (the fox) lets out a soft grunt. He keeps on going. "Hah...Hah...ahnnn...." Those abs flex under his fingers, his own teeth dig deeper into his skin and he squeezes his eyes shut. This part always gets to him. The paw on his cock falters, but to give the kid credit, he tries to keep it going. "Ahnn..oh...hah..." Inch by inch he fills himself, the canine below grasping his hips, nails digging painfully into the flesh while that body twists below him. Not for a single moment in this whole ordeal does it occur to the fox that of the two of them, he is the experienced one. He just lets intuition take over, his body knowing full well what he enjoys, and also knowing that the other will find his way of getting off. 
	
	He keeps his eyes squeezed shut, not that it matters, because even if he didn't, without his glasses he can't see the admiration beaming from the canine, his paws easing up the other's chest, while he learns to relax while the fox rides him. The canine's body shudders and for a moment abandons Aidan's cock as the fox lifts up his arms, burying his paws in his own hair, and the shirt parts, tempting the canine to run his paws over the other's chest, feeling the muscles ripple under his fingers in waves as that lithe body dances back against his hip, shaft slipping in and out of the fox's slick cavity, the ring of muscles lightly squeezing him on every in and every out stroke, as if to beg him not to go. Finally the sharp fang releases the bruised lips and Aiden lets a moan roll free, coming straight from his toes. "Touch... me..." he gasps and the canine complies. He doesn't feel the slight stiffness with which the wolf does it, or the way he doesn't really quite ease into the movement of his hips like others do, his toes digging into the carpet as he clings to control which might come easier if he just relaxed.
	
	And luckily for Tommy, Aidan doesn't see how stupid he looks, tongue lolling out of his mouth, desperately trying to keep his hips still. He doesn't have to, it only gives the fox the idea that the wolf is making him do all the work. "Ahnnn... Keep... going..." the wolf gasps, as if Aidan had any urge to stop, his rear grinding up against the other's knot, feeling the hardness inside him nudge against that sensitive spot that sends small sparks shooting up his spine, slowly spreading through his extremities every time he pushes back. On auto pilot the fox grabs the wrist, urging the paw to move faster, rewarding compliance with the speeding up of his own movements. Trapped in his little bubble he moves without heed for anything, the tie, the party, his sister, all has become background, unclear scenery, too far away to be bothered with. He hardly pays attention to the canine below him, who is getting more and more desperate, deep moans rumbling from that chest, his breath hitching, body twisting desperately. He just rushes on, grinning while he moves even faster, rocking back between that paw and Tommy's dick. "Ah...Ah...Ah...fuck.. Ahnnn...." His own sounds are replied with the same amount of fervour from below. He is being brutal, feeling that familiar sensation at the base of his spine. 
	
	In a spur of the moment he opens his eyes, and, grabbing the back of the canine's neck, drags him forward, lips slamming against each other, his tongue darting out as he gives up on control, blindly rushing forward, feeling the pressure grow to the point where he is unable to contain it. His paw eaves itself through the wolf's head fur, his free paw shoots down, fingers intertwining with the those around his shaft, speeding it up, feeling the sudden violent urge to end this. He groans loudly, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling his insides being filled with a liquid heat. His cock gets jerked, both paws almost a blur, as he gasps for breath sucking it in through his nose, feeling himself titter on the edge before he shudders and... blindly ejaculates all over the other's athletic body, his insides squeezing around the shaft which had dumped its load seconds earlier, exploding inside of him as Tommy's body rose sharply from the seat, before sinking back down again. He keeps going at a lazy pace for a little while longer, enjoying this lazy feeling, the sensation of being filled.
	
	They break their kiss. It is over. Aidan lifts himself off the other, standing up and grabbing his glasses.
"Where are you going?" The wolf still sounds cocky, though a bit unsteady.
"Huh?"
The wolf grins, holding his slick and messy cock. "Aren't you going to clean this?" He wags it. It's still hard. If it had been anyone else... but cum glitters on that sculpted chest... Slumped back in the chair, elastic band tugged under his balls, legs spread. Aidan snatches two tissues from the decorated box on the desk, before dropping down between the two powerful hind legs. He takes Tommy's dick. He eyes him. The canine grins in that cocksure way. Aidan leans forward.
	
	For half a second the wolf's eyes widen. The fox keeps surprising him. A tongue swirls over the valley between his abs, sending a pleasant shiver through his being. With a quick motion the tissues slide over his length. The fox is cleaning him alright, lapping up the small drops on his chest before sliding lower. The wolf is unable to supress a gasp when that rough tongue slides over his length, tip to base and back. Aidan gently laps the shaft that not so long ago had been shoved inside of him. With every heartbeat it hardens against his tongue, returning to full strength and he takes the head between his lips and starts bobbing. 
	
	Leaning against one leg, his own legs half under him, his paws gently stroking the inside of those warm thighs, he sucks Tommy off, enjoying it more than he would care to admit, especially once the canine musters the courage to run his fingers through his fur, gently stroking his ear, finger tracing the small hole that usually holds an earring. The guy's seed is still inside of him, a little bit leaks between his legs. It is surprising to see how quickly the wolf is ready for a second go. He hums, hearing the other's breath hitch. Internally he smirks, his ears tuning in on the little sounds, registering them, guiding him on, letting the wolf determine the pace, though he does not know this. The small tugs of his fur, the way those hips jerk up sharply as Tommy is desperately trying to cling on to control. "Ohhhh... fucking Christ..." His abs quiver. The fox doesn't relent and the guy's body lifts itself up off the chair, paws seizing the armrest. 
	
	But Aidan's intuition isn't that good though, as he yanks his head back in the last possible second. "Ahhhnnn.... Fuuuuuuck..." 
"Ah shit."
He is just half second too late as a guttal cry is ripped from the wolf's throat, spunk blasting from his tip, hitting the fox square in the face. Tommy just falls back into the seat, a bit of cum still flowing from the tip and leaking on his stomach, slowly running down until it reaches his navel. The wolf stares languidly down at the fox, whose taken another tissue and tries to wipe the tick rope of cum from his glasses, for a moment ignoring the source of said cum. "You look so fucking-" he breathes.
"What the hell are you two doing?!"
	
	Two heads glance at the door, one of them not seeing shit because he still tries to wipe the mess from his glasses, ears pricking up trying to figure out what is going on. "Fuck." Tommy curses as the door slams. "Better get dressed." He's already tucked in. Aidan follows the example of the wolf who is, apparently, not only a quick undresser. His glasses are still fuzzy. He's going to need water and soap for that one. No time. 
"Oh shit..." he curses, looking around desperately. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." He searches the floor while tugging his shirt back in his trousers. "Where's the fucking..." Tie. The wolf grabs him by the shoulders, stopping his frantic looking, slipping something around his neck. He pre-tied the damn thing and better than the fox ever could.
"Quickly." The wolf urges him, pushing open a door that, Aidan is pretty sure, wasn't there before. "Go through here, through that door, than to the left... and you... errr... got a bit..." He points at his ear. Aidan reaches up, great more cum He gets a hanky pressed into his paw and before he can ask or say anything else the door gets slammed shut in his face. 
	
	He follows the instructions, having no idea where the wolf is going, or where he is for that matter, but he ends up in a small bedroom that leads to the kitchen. The caterers are too busy to pay attention. Still wiping his ear he heads for the faucet and cleans his glasses. He holds them at a distance and closes one eye while moving the glasses left to right in front of him. Good enough. Following a waiter who heads back to the party he manages to sneak past his family. He hears angry voices in the hallway, but (cowardly) doesn't look. Everyone is getting ready for dinner. He pointedly avoids his sister, opting to talk to Nan Smith instead, knowing Sharleen will try to avoid that old biddy. He catches a glance of the wolf who pretends (or really doesn't) see him.
	
	Aidan chews on the inside of his cheek. This was... stupid... And he hates parties. He adjusts the knot around his neck. Suddenly wearing a tie doesn't feel so constricting.

Some days after.
He has fled anything better than to stay around his family all the freaking time. They don't know what he's been up to at the party, or at least he doesn't think they do, but he isn't really good at keeping things a secret. Blanket wrapped tightly around him he's hugging a cup of warm coco between his paws. His place isn't big, but big enough for someone his size. It's just a two room 'apartment' he's subletting, hidden in a back alley behind an old comic book store. The narrow shin-breaker of a stairwell keeps most people out. There's a fellow college student living on the ground floor. Nice guy, isn't around a lot, absolutely perfect, the best kind of roommate... well that would actually be no roommate, but someone who keeps to himself and who Aidan only meets on the rare occasions he needs to use the downstairs kitchen is a good second. His room isn't much. Old worn-out sofa, chewed down coffee table, fridge in the corner, small counter with the only sink the whole apartment, well apart from the ones downstairs. There's a door to the tiny bathroom with a toilet and a shower, and one leading to the bedroom where the previous owner managed somehow to squeeze in a large two person bed and a closet, although you have to be standing on the bed in order to open the closet. Still it's a fucking two person bed, for free! Why? Well for some reason the previous guy was smart enough to figure a way to get it in there, just not smart enough to figure how to get it out. There's no TV, but he can use his (rather expensive) laptop to play DVD's. There's super fast internet, thanks to the university. His own little space, quiet neighbours, knocking on the door, this place is perfect.
	
	Wait, knocking on the door? There shouldn't be anyone around here. Roommate is gone for the weekend. His parents don't come here. His sister? Gods he hopes not. From atop the stairs he tries to make out who's behind the door, but its frosted glass so of course he can't see anything, just a big blot. He makes an awful ruckus heading down, partly to let the person at the door know he's coming, partly because it is almost impossible to go down these stairs quietly.
	
	He turns the key, opens the door, blinks (rather stupidly), opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. "Jezus holy mother of fucking Christ, what are you... and what happened to your face?" he blurts out, which is met with a grin, as charming as he remembers, despite the split lip, the swollen flesh of his cheek and around his eye, and the nasty cut on the side of his nose. Tommy is grinning, but it doesn't really reach his eyes. "Apparently what he doesn't know can't hurt him, but it can hurt me." It is a lame attempt at a joke.
"Come in." The fox says, a gush of wind reminding him that the door is open, the wolf is still outside and it is fucking cold. Shocked wouldn't be exactly the right word to describe his emotions, but it comes closest to what he is feeling. "I live upstairs, watch your step." He points up the stairs as his legs take him to the large kitchen where he rummages through the fridge before going back up the stairs.
	
	It is strange to see the canine sitting on his couch in almost exactly that same slumped position as at the party. Only now that pretty face is mangled. "Here." He hands the wolf a slab of beef. The canine just stares at it. "For the eye." He says, gently taking the wolf's paw and directing it to his face, draping the meat against the bruises. "What... who...?" He asks after a few minutes.
Tommy makes a gesture. "Doesn't matter. They..." he swallows. "They kicked me out." He sounds... calm, like he's making small talk. It is almost frivolous. "So... I decided to come and find you." Of course, the most natural thing in the world to do, parents kick you out, you go and look for the guy you fucked, once, at a party... in your parents' house... a party thrown by fucked guy's sister ... the same sister who is most likely going to marry your brother. 
"How did you manage to find me?"
"You're not really that hard to find on muzzlemag." Long live the name 'Brecorowich'. "I found your college." 
"My profile is private."
He grins. "Your pictures aren't. Googled the picture of your college. Had to flirt with a nice lady at administration to get your address though."
"You could have just friended me."
"You could have said 'no'."
He could still do, could he? Not really, he is a wuss when it comes to things like this. And... well... he has thought about him... a few times... ok more than a few times. 
	
	"Nice place you got."
"Err yeah thanks." The silence has been oppressive. He can't help feel kinda guilty. (Dude you had sex with him...) He started it! (oh real mature, dumb ass) Fuck you.
"So?"
"Sorry what?"
"Can I stay, at least for a few days?"
"Err..."
"I can pay."
"Pay?" 
The wolf grins. Ah there's that sparkle in those eyes, that cock sure expression and before he knows it the fox is on his back, tongue shoved in his mouth, one paw sliding up his stomach, fingers making a grab for his nipple, twisting it lightly, tugging a moan from his throat. "Hmmpfhmmm."The cold slap of meat is in his paw. The wolf breaks away. 
"You need to keep this on your eye..." He mutters to no-one in particular. The wolf doesn't pay attention, and neither does he really, 'cause the shirt is ripped over the wolf's head; revealing that delicious body. "Or not..." He follows the paws going down, the fly being ripped open and the slab of beef slides to the floor. What a waste of a good food.