Proximity
By: Rufus Quintin
Jim left his co-pilot to caucus with the flight crew aboard the otherwise vacated aircraft with perhaps a little bit more enthusiasm than usual. Normally red-eye medium-hauls preceded the weary drudge through deserted terminals to exhaust saturated or snow laden courtesy bus ramps and the indeterminate wait to shuttle toward cookie-cutter hotels, the mock-hospitality of check-in agents, and the inevitable collapse in a strange bed. He came to accept the uncanny shift from place to place, where only the three letter airport designations and the names of the hotels changed. He realized he hadn’t really defined any expectations. How could he? He didn’t have the slightest clue what waited for him, at very least he could hope for something other than an over-starched hotel bed, even if that meant an inflatable mattress and some general awkwardness. 
Everything seemed all too familiar, down to the dark gated gift shops and newsstands. The scent of the building seemed to be the scent of every other airport. He seemed to recall each footstep before taking it, as if the encroach of a previous memory overlapped with the present. He could never get used to the shifts, he thought, striding through the vast and under-populated terminal. Behind him he dragged the small wheeled suitcase in which he carried a change of clothes and the most necessary items for an overnight layover. His jacket hung over his arm and in his hand he carried a uniform hat with pilot’s wings. Today, a friend waited for him, he hoped.
The wolf veered down an escalator indicated by a nearby sign to lead to the baggage claim and exit, though Jim was familiar enough with the airport to know his path from memory. To Jim’s surprise there were still a number of people waiting, sparsely gathered at the escalator’s terminus. An elderly chauffer with a gray muzzle and drooping whiskers, a young vulpine woman mysteriously by herself, and a mother with her child who lay at her feet out of boredom or exhaustion stood around on the white tile of the arrivals area. Perhaps they had been waiting there eternally, thought Jim, and would wait forever.
Jim identified his companion waiting among the remnant of late night airport dirges. A coyote dressed in a once fashionable yellow suit over a safflower vest with a wide tie of vibrant yellow linen stood holding a broad brimmed reed hat. His apparel seemed out of place for the overcast night sky and the cold of October, a stark contrast to the limbs of trees devoid of leaves following the short Minnesotan summer. The coyote recognized Jim in an instant and smiled up the descending escalator. He appeared youthful and dynamic, apollonian in his well suited clothes. An energy beamed from his brown, gray and white furred muzzle with pristine whiskers that emanated a contrived elegance that was both attractive and, as the wolf observed, somewhat anachronistic.
The wolf knew the coyote to be an elegant if not eccentric dresser, as if he had walked in from another time. As the wolf strode nearer, smiling broadly while rushing off the escalator toward his friend, he began to notice wear upon the fabric of the coyote’s fine cloths. The colors where neither as vibrant as initially perceived nor consistent and bore signs of dilettante self-repair. Jim also counted several gray furs where he had not seen them before among furrows of age around the coyote’s eyes. The wolf noticed this dissolution with concern.
The coyote beamed a broad smile, whimsically perking his tall pointed ears towards the figure descending the escalator. He approached the wolf with a broad gait and met him with an enthusiastic hug that drew the attention of the nearby spectral spectators. The coyote threw his arms around the wolf and slapped his back audibly. Jim chuckled with mirth of his own, nonetheless bewildered by the level of the coyote’s exhilaration.
“Jim, Jim, Jim,” said the coyote in a melodic voice, clinging to the wolf with an ardor that was becoming excessive. “How have you been doing? I’ve missed you.”
“Lawrence, I’ve missed you too. You look well,” replied the wolf.
The coyote relinquished his hold on the wolf, resuming his elegant composure. Lawrence stood opposite Jim and smiled in a way that sought to restore his youthful looks. He took the small black suitcase from the wolf and tugged him by the cuff of his shirt. “Thanks,” he said with sarcasm implied by subtle intonation, “you’re a fantastic liar.”  
The coyote turned with a swish of his tail, looking over his shoulder and nodded, “this way,” pointing his muzzle at a pair of automatic doors that led to the curb and parking structures. A biting cold and the faint scent of exhaust greeted them both as they exited the terminal. Jim was forced to slip back into his gold sleeved jacket, setting the pilots cap back upon his head.  
“Those people in there were starting to give me the creeps,” said Lawrence, “don’t mean to rush ya, but I wanted to get going.”
“No kidding. This whole airport is starting to give me the creeps,” said the wolf looking over his shoulder back at the terminal building. “Like zombies,” he said into the air behind him in an exhalation of visible breath. 
“Welcome to Minnesota,” said the coyote, “home of the weird and of poorly paved roads, as you will see.”
 “So it’s just like LA, only colder,” said Jim hugging his arms to his chest, his uniform clothing not sufficiently built to handle the bite of Midwestern autumn. 
“Only more gay friendly,” said Lawrence peering at the wolf through the corners of his eyes with his lips curled in a subtle smile. 
“You don’t say.”
“I do say.”
“Cheeky bastard,” said Jim melodically.
“Cheeky bastard,” said Lawrence as they entered the parking structure.  
The wolf winced as a cold breeze struck him, he rubbed his nose and whiskers, breathing into his paws and repeating. The air felt chilled and dry as if in a refrigerator inside the vast concrete structure, it seemed to bite more than he was used to. The coyote observed and smiled, “It’s not even that cold. We haven’t even had snow yet.”
“I’m just spoiled by California,” said Jim with a soft tremble in his voice as his jaw began to shake.
“You’re just spoiled, but that’s okay, you’re still cute,” said the coyote with a smile.
The wolf smiled back, “How long has it been, Lawrence?”
“Two years,” he said, “we last saw each other in Terminal 2 in SFO, you left us to board your flight back to L.A. when you were doing the LAX-SFO corridor.”
“So I was,” said Jim, “good memory.”
“I’m not that old yet. I know what you’re thinking,” said Lawrence pointing just ahead of them both, “I’m parked over there.” The coyote pointed at a beige Rolls Royce several rows away. It was one of but a few vehicles left in the structure. “That one.”
“Nice,” said the wolf, clearly impressed.
“It’s just a late model Silver Shadow II, it’s nothing that special,” said Lawrence, tilting his head back at the wolf in an exasperated glance, “if you have to have a Rolls and you’re not bringing home six figures, you have a Silver Shadow.”
“It’s still a Rolls.” 
“With Rolls Royce maintenance costs,” the coyote looked at the wolf with a knowing glance, “I only drive this one until they salt the roads, then it goes in the garage until spring. Normally I drive a Volvo.”
“I’m glad you care for your safety,” said the wolf mockingly.
“Hah.” The coyote laughed with flat sarcasm.
The coyote unlocked the vehicle and popped the trunk. The wolf’s suitcase landed in the fleece lined interior. The wolf wandered around to the passenger side, or what he thought was the passenger side, pausing in bewilderment at the site of the steering wheel. “This is an English import,” explained Lawrence to the meandering wolf. The wolf threw a glance at the coyote and quietly strode around to the left-hand-side of the vehicle, noting that the interior consisted of tan leather perforated in an exotic pattern. The inside surfaces were paneled in a walnut veneer inlaid with a reflective chrome molding. The vehicle, while old and dated was still very well maintained inside and out. The car’s powerful engine started smoothly with an easy purr that propelled it forward in a smooth glide though the parking structure.
Warm air began to circulate through the inside of the car as they departed the airport through the serpentine mix of corridors and streets that would lead them to the highway. Minutes later the Rolls sped underneath amber sodium vapor streetlamps on the interstate.
“How was your flight?” Lawrence asked, breaking the silence.
“It was pretty routine. We had some turbulence over Colorado, then again over South Dakota and in descent into the twin cities area, but we had a tail wind most of the way so it got us here in good time,” explained the wolf in a professional tone, his eyes concentrated on the road. 
“Since when do they send you to the twin cities?” asked the coyote, looking to his left over at the wolf.
“Not often, I’m usual hopping to Texas these days.”
“Glad you could make it up here for a night. I wish you could stay a bit longer.”
“Me too, I don’t think I could swing a visit if it weren’t for the late start I have tomorrow.”
“What time do you leave?”
“13:45, it’s a standard hop over to DC, then another red-eye to Houston, then home the next day. Then I have a few days off.”
“Not bad, what do you plan on doing?
“No clue yet. I don’t get out much these days.”
“Me neither. Just haven’t been feeling it.”
“What ever happened to the collie you were seeing? Last I heard, you had just broke up.”
“Andy? Yea, I think he is more comfortable robbing the cradle than hanging onto some old coyote. He has been getting his groove on with freshmen from the U.”
“He was your age, right?”
“No, closer to your age,” said Lawrence laying his eyes on the wolf with an appraising stare.
“Shut up, you’re making me feel old.”
“Thanks, that’s the type of encouragement I need. Plus I’m only three years older than you. It was just my birthday last month,” said the coyote, overplaying his offence melodramatically. 
“Happy Birthday.”
“Another year, another step closer to the grave.” The coyote brought his wrist to his forehead, feigning a geriatric tremor in his voice.  
“Oh stop pretending to be old. What’s with the classic car and the old suit? You’re living like a retiree. Are you getting enough fiber in your diet? Do you remember the forties?”
“Ass. I’ll have you know I’m good on fiber and calcium. Plus my hips are still solid as a rock.”
“They better be.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know? As for the car and clothes, it’s just yet another of my hobbies. And yea, I feel like crap after Andy. Having him bring home a teenager one day is a major self-esteem hit,” said Lawrence in a more serious tone, his ears projected back with humility expressive of some part his past he seemed hesitant to give words to. “Been there, done that, moving on.” 
With that the coyote brought the Rolls off the interstate and over an intersection that deposited them onto a boulevard lined with leafless elms. Distinctive Midwestern townhouses with simple lawns and shrubbery bordered the street. The road itself looked poorly marked and cobbled with potholes, though the Rolls with its superb suspension passed over without sound. Street lights haloed with amber coronae cast shadows of intertwined branches upon road with a supernatural flicker. The Rolls cruised along, out of place in the cold, stark environment. 
Without warning the coyote flicked the turn signal with the back of his paw and veered the Rolls into a narrow side street on his right. The street was lined with cars and barely wide enough for one vehicle pass. The wolf observed the parade of neatly kept homes on his side of the road. Some windows were lit, others darkened for the night. They appeared vaguely familiar, typical and quintessential of the central U.S, but at once strange, foreign and unsettling. Lawrence turned his car up a ramp and driveway of one of the two story townhouses and brought it to a halt beneath a carport, which on second glance appeared to list towards the curb. He parked it behind another car covered in a blue cloth. Two young trees grew out of the lawn, their spindly branches swayed.  
“Here we are,” said Lawrence, in a matter of fact tone.
The wolf wordlessly stepped out of the car, back into the chill night air. The scent of leaves and moist earth filled his nostrils. A distant roar of traffic, or was it wind, could be heard from afar. Jim stood and meandered to the back of the car where Lawrence fetched his suitcase. He found it difficult to discern the color of his surroundings. Everything appeared cast in sepia light or contrast in bizarre shadow. The house appeared older, covered in wooden siding. The coyote, trailing the small black suitcase led Jim up the steps and to the front door; their footsteps could be heard upon the wood with the ring of keys jingling in Lawrence’s paw.
The coyote entered his home first, instinctively knowing the location of the light switch. Several lamps flickered on, illuminating the interior, which was just as dandy and eccentric as the coyote himself. The wolf welcomed the warm air of the interior, shutting the door behind him. He rubbed his paws and removed his hat before massaging some warmth back into his ears. 
“Welcome to my home,” smiled the coyote, extending his arms out in a congenial gesture of invitation. He removed his reed hat and yellow coat and hung them upon a prong of an overly ornamental oak hat rack. The wolf placed his coat and hat upon a free prong of the same rack. “Feel free to make yourself at home.” Lawrence pointed at a comfortable seating arrangement consisting of a sofa, love seat, and two high backed sofa chairs separated by a small round table on which rested a Tiffany lamp. The most prominent feature of the room was a large brick fireplace around which the aforementioned furniture formed a horseshoe shaped array. Contemporary artworks lined the antique white walls. Ample, antique looking wooden furniture filled the in-between space, half-wilted autumnal wildflowers sprouted from various vases around the room. Jim entered into the space and navigated the furnishings. The floorboards creaked under his feet. The coyote’s surroundings seemed comfortable enough to put the wolf at ease. 
“Please have a seat,” said the coyote, his arm outstretched, presenting the array of seats before the fireplace, “anywhere you like.”
The wolf chose one of the high-backed sofa chairs, taking a seat with a graceful swoosh of his tail. 
“Can I get you anything? Hungry?” asked the coyote.
“I’m fine,” said the wolf, “it’s quite a homey place you have here.”
“Thanks, I inherited most of this stuff over the years. It fits this place quite well, I think.” Lawrence put his paws on his hips and stared off, gazing at his home from wall to wall. “You still have to see my wine cellar.” The coyote gracefully walked through his belongings and sat in a high backed coarsely upholstered chair adjacent from Jim. He crossed his legs and brought his fingertips together above his lap. Lawrence turned and beamed a playful smile obliquely at his companion. “Like I said, make yourself comfortable. I for one, could use a drink, how about you?”
“I think I could too.” Replied Jim, dryly. 
“Here, why don’t you follow me?” Lawrence stood back up and walked to the far side of the room towards a wooden staircase that led to a loft bedroom on the second floor. Built into the staircase was a wooden door smaller than Jim stood tall. The coyote rattled on the doorknob and tugged on the cellar door until it popped open, nearly hitting him in the muzzle. He shrugged off the occurrence, straightening himself with tarnished dignity. “My cellar is right down here.” 
The slender coyote reached beyond the door and tapped for a light switch. A white light appeared from within, casting ominously from below. The wolf got up and wandered toward the cellar just as the coyote disappeared down the steps. His footsteps on bare wooden planks could be heard as they descended into the unknown below. Jim had to duck his head to enter the low doorframe. The interior was no roomier. A narrow staircase made of bare boards led to a fluorescent lit chamber about a dozen steps below. Lawrence waited for him at the foot of the staircase. “Careful now.”
Jim stepped down, bracing himself on the narrow wooden walls. The staircase led into a concrete chamber with a low hanging ceiling. He kept his ears swept back out of reflex. The room was lined with cedar wine racks on all sides which formed slots for various bottles, the vast majority of which occupied, most with dusty green bottles with faded labels. “Impressive,” said Jim as he began to wander the small space. The wolf reached for a random bottle and inspected it. It read Chateau de Rothschild, 1999.
“Good eye,” said Lawrence, who turned to the wolf’s direction, “that’s a very solid wine.” The coyote turned back to the shelf in front of him as Jim replaced the expensive looking bottle in its slot. Lawrence squatted and began to sort the lower shelves. The clink of bottle could be heard as he rotated several, removing some to inspect their label. After a moment he stood back up with a bottle in hand. “Here,” he said, “you might remember this one.” The coyote handed the wolf the bottle he was holding. 
“Ahh yea, the Moldy Toad. I remember that place, that’s where I met you both back when we were staying in Healdsburg,” said Jim with the exuberance of epiphany. 
“Precisely,” complimented Lawrence.
“We got pretty drunk there. I can’t believe we got kicked out of a wine bar.”
“Why anyone would want to spit out a perfectly good wine is beyond me.”
“You always were a swallower.”
“Shush. That’s just a rumor.”
“I think I know better.”
“You sir are a miscreant and a charlatan.” Lawrence looked back at the bottle demurely, unwilling to dignify the crass wolf. “Anyway, when you’re done being morally bankrupt I thought we could share this. I’ve been holding onto it in case you ever did pick up on our offer. Here, hold this.” Lawrence handed the bottle to Jim and ducked down to the lowest shelf where he brought forth another bottle, proclaiming, “this one too.” 
With raucous steps they both returned up to the living room. The light went off and the door shut behind them. “Take a seat,” advised Lawrence, “I’ll be right back.” The coyote padded off to what must have been his kitchen with a jaunt in his step and a swish of his tail. The wolf took a seat, this time on the wide red couch in the middle of the room. Springs beneath the cushions squeaked with a metallic tone. Jim noticed several holes and patches on its surface. The light in an adjacent room went on. Jim could hear the faint rustle of preparation being done from afar.  A cork popped, a glass clung with a melodic ring, and a plate was laid down. A moment later the coyote returned holding a yellow ceramic dish tray with a turquoise plate on which were laid in artful order various pieces of cheese and cracker. Two wineglasses accompanied the open Moldy Toad bottle, rattling precariously with every step. Lawrence set the platter down on an end-table and decanted a generous amount of red liquid into the glasses. His ears perked as he commented to no one in particular, “something’s missing.”
He turned and looked about the room and exclaimed, “ah-ha.” The coyote undid the buttons of his vest and discarded the garment on a nearby armchair. He leaped toward his fireplace and kneeled, pulling aside an iron mesh curtain to reveal several logs and kindling prepared as if in anticipation. The coyote produced a long match from a nearby ornamented metallic cylinder, striking it on the exposed brick. Moments later the fire came to life with a warm glow. “There we go,” he said, “That’s cozy now, isn’t it?” Lawrence stepped back and sat on the far end of the couch about a meter away from Jim. The coyote then handed him a freshly decanted glass of wine and offered him the platter of goods he brought with him from which Jim consumed a scant amount.
Jim sniffed from the glass, swirling the liquid as he brought his nose and whiskers to the round rim of the vessel. With parted lips he inhaled deeply and said, “wow, yea this takes me back.” He took a sip and closed his eyes in a moment of personal bliss. 
“Yea, this one is for the memories,” said Lawrence taking a petite sip himself. “Isn’t it funny how scent brings back memory?”
“It’s called olfaction,” said Jim.
“Ah-ha, Capitan.”
“Ya-huh,” Jim grimaced a cheeky smile. “It was raining. Back in Healdsburg. January, two years ago.” 
“Good memory, apparently this stuff is working,” said the coyote. “Devon and I were staying at a bed and breakfast on the west end of town, we could see the hills and the forest from the window on the one sunny day we had there. We didn’t get out as much as we wanted; we only toured a few wine roads in the rain and fog.”
“January isn’t the best time to be in Sonoma, you know,” Said Jim.
“January isn’t the best time to be in Minneapolis, either,” said Lawrence asserting a look down his muzzle. “Devon and I wanted to get out of the cold and snow, plus we could swing vacation and we figured rates would be lower in the winter.”
“I remember now,” said Jim in slow absent-minded speech as if distant from the sofa in the coyote’s living room, “We met there, at the winery. We were all soaked. The vintner thought we were all crazy.” 
“Nice guy though, gave us a good price on all these bottles. This is the last of the crate I got there,” said Lawrence.
“All good things come to an end,” as they say.  
“Lamentably true,” said the coyote staring into his glass and at the uncorked bottle beside him. “We sure did piss off that oenologist at the wine bar in downtown.” 
“And how. It’s not often I get kicked out of somewhere.”
“Good thing there was another right next door.”
“And another next door to that. Hah,” laughed Jim in self righteous humor, “and it’s not like we were all that drunk. Sure Devon fell off the chair, but it can’t have been the first time that ever happened.”
“Maybe she was new,” speculated the coyote, shrugging his shoulders.
“Probably. It must not have helped that we were behaving like frat boys.”
“We must have been the only three people in there all day.”
 “And we broke like three glasses.”
“Good times.”
“Good times,” reiterated Jim.
“Do you remember sitting in the park after dark?”
“Yea, with a bottle of Riesling.”
“Devon and I nearly froze our tails off, were it not for all the alcohol in our system.”
“I nearly did too. I caught flu or something as soon as I got home.”
“Hah, and I had to play sexy nurse for Devon.” 
“I bet you fit that role well.” 
“I got the legs for it,” said Lawrence nodding at his slender crossed legs. 
“What ever happened to Devon? If you don’t mind me asking,” said Jim demurely. 
“Well,” said Lawrence with some hesitation, taking a slow yet deep sip from his wine as he contemplated his choice of words, “the same thing that happens to most of my boyfriends. Either they get old or notice that I’m old and go off to wait outside high-schools or pretend to write in off campus cafes near the U. in search of younger tail. Or maybe they lose interest. Or maybe they discover a bigger cock. I won’t pretend to know what goes through the mind of most men. How about you, you been getting laid?”
 “To be honest, not since back then. I think I’ve had a few good opportunities, but I’m always too much of a gentleman. It’s my downfall.” The wolf looked down pensively with his ears swept back. 
“Nothing wrong with being gentlemanly,” said the coyote in a melodic tone. 
“Gentlemen apparently don’t get much sex.”
“There’s a method to it.”
“Enlighten me,” said the wolf in modest exasperation.
“Good sir, I’m no gentleman.”
“You dress like one.”
“It’s all the illusion,” said Lawrence with silly gesture, waving his fingers in front of his eyes and pulling an imaginary rabbit out of an imaginary hat, “there is a slight of hand in how you present yourself, and how you act.”
“Maybe that’s why your boys run out. The illusion doesn’t last.”
“I don’t think that’s what it is. I think I just bed the wrong kind of man. The system’s sound, it’s my choices that aren’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t really know. I suppose it’s kind of like chemistry I learned, or rather was taught at. There are some kinds of chemicals and elements that attract or repel others. I tend to attract the wrong kind of compound. I bond for a while and get used in the process and then inevitably I get repelled, only to find some new agent. It’s a process that gets repetitive.”
“You sound like a catalyst.”
“I guess that’s the nice way of putting it. Then again, I don’t think love is about solving formulas or doing titration.”
“I think you have a very interesting metaphor. I wouldn’t have ever thought of relationships that way. I think there is a lot of truth to your analogy. “
“Maybe,” said Lawrence, finishing his glass of wine and refilling it with an audible trickle and ring of fine glass. “What else do you remember from that night?”
“Hmm,” the wolf mumbled. He too finished his glass and handed to the coyote without saying a word. Lawrence topped it off, filling just shy of the brim and silently handed it back. “Not much by the time we made it to the park. I think we already finished two or three bottles each and swigging off that Riesling like winos. We had a good time. We were very loud. You could hear our voices echo clear through the park. I remember seeing the headlights of this car circle the park for what must have been seven or eight times. I thought it was a cop.” Jim laughed abruptly.
“Yea, you were about to panic and run off. Who knows where,” chuckled the coyote, “Devon and I had to hold you down by the tail. And it was only a cab, like we tried to tell you.”
“They look alike!”
“Except one’s yellow and the other black and white, where have you seen yellow police cars? Not in Sonoma. Not anywhere.”
“It was dark and foggy! It looked creepy as all hell. It was the only thing moving,” said Jim, throwing his paws up in an exasperated gesture.
“Still, you were silly. It was cute to watch.” The coyote chuckled, covering his muzzle with his paw, humored by the wolf’s reaction.
Jim glared at Lawrence with mock ire. “Hey now, what ever happened to your inhibitions that night?”
“Shush, don’t go there.”
“You’re the one who went there. Wasn’t it you who invited me back to your B&B?”
“It was Devon’s idea. Besides, inhibitions get pesky,” said Lawrence in rapid succession. 
“You sure did toss those aside like a dirty shirt.”
“You liked it,” declared the coyote.
“What I remember of it,” said the wolf. 
“What do you remember?”
“Devon falling into a mud-puddle,” said Jim in a mater-of-fact tone. 
The coyote laughed in a loud burst, “yea he was pretty pissed about that. You and I laughing at his ass didn’t help.”
“Then walking up the dark narrow staircase that led to the loft you rented. We are all soaking wet. I got a good view of the underside of your tail before you bonked me in the nose with it.”
“Enjoy the view?” asked Lawrence as he turned to the wolf with a salacious smirk.
“One of many I enjoyed,” said Jim, raising an eyebrow in response.  “We sure did make a mess of the place, was the owner pissed?”
“A little I think. She kept giving us bad looks.”
“The noise we made probably didn’t help.”
“We weren’t that loud. Were we?”
“Not too bad, all things considered, but we soiled the sheets. I’d hate to have to clean that up.”
“Three guys know how to make a mess,” said the coyote speaking from experience perhaps beyond the example at hand. 
“I’ll say. At least we made Devon wash up first.”
“There were muddy paw-prints on the floor the next morning. I took pictures.”
“We were all freezing. Then you took your shirt off,” said Jim, nodding as if to the coyote’s shirt.
“So that’s how I got naked,” said Lawrence as if an epiphany reached him. 
“I admit I may have facilitated that with positive reinforcement.”
“You enabler.”
“Hey now. How long did it take you to ‘enable’ me out of my clothes?”
“Quit complaining. As soon as your clothes came off you kept telling us how much you “needed” it.”
“You’re the one who kissed me.”
“How else was I supposed to get you to make out with me?”
“Did Devon mind,” asked Jim.
“Not particularly. It’s something he wanted pretty badly. That and I never heard a complaint out of him, ever. You saw him standing there in the doorway to the bathroom?”
“I do in fact remember that, even though the night was a lot of a blur. I remember he got naked before we did, standing in the door to the bathroom as we made out on the bed. Then the light’s going off. A lot of wet fur and some of the best sex of my life.”
“Your memory is better than you give it credit.”
“I wish I remembered more.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Lawrence as he poured the remainder of his glass into his muzzle, refilling it nearly to the brim. He topped off Jim’s nearly empty glass as well, emptying the bottle into wolf’s offered glass.
“And to forgetting,” said Jim as he too took a long savoring sip.
 “Can’t forget forgetting,” said Lawrence as he inspected the empty bottle, gingerly setting it aside, “but what would you want to forget?”
The wolf sighed, bringing his paw to his muzzle to stroke his chin, “Hmm,” he uttered, “I suppose a lot of stupid shit I did when I was younger.”
“Such as?” asked Lawrence turning his head to the side and perking his ears inquisitively.
“It’s hard to put a finger on it.” Jim gyrated his ears in contemplation. “Bad decisions I guess. I did the frat boy thing. I put myself into some bad relationships and forced myself into others I had no business in. In a backlash to that the last 8 years or so have been rather uneventful, which in its self is a mistake.”
Lawrence nodded with immediate understanding. “Yea, I know what you’re saying. I put myself in some dead end relationships and experienced some hellish break-ups I wouldn’t mind erasing from my memory. Nonetheless it’s made me who I am. I don’t think I’m such a bad guy. Am I?”
Jim shook his head. “Now, you’re cool. Look, your taking me in for the night even though we haven’t seen each other in almost two years. You were generous and fun back then and you still are.”
“Thanks,” said Lawrence. “Still, I wouldn’t change anything.”
“Even that night? Weren’t you a bit ashamed in the morning?”
“Well. I’m usually happy with the one on one thing. I learned that about myself when I was younger.  It was strange looking at Devon after we got home. Maybe that led to us falling apart. I don’t know. Still, I feel no regrets. Are you saying you regret coming along with us.”
“I’ve replayed that night in my mind countless times. Sometimes lusting over what happened to get me off, other times ashamed and embarrassed. Sometimes I’m not sure how to feel about it, but it’s been my last sexual contact. I wouldn’t wish that away.”
“What do you mean ashamed.”
“I guess it wasn’t my style. It’s not like I was hurting anyone. I guess when you’re as sheltered as I am you develop a pretty big sense of shame.”
“Why shame?”
“I guess it’s just the feeling of giving into what you want when you wanted other things for yourself. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“So you feel bad because you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too?”
“Something like that. I guess it has to do with expectations.”
“So what do you want?”
“I don’t know. I have pretty much everything I need. A great job, plenty of cash, a house and car. I’m pretty content.”
“So why did you join us?”
“There was something intriguing about your offer. Maybe it’s because it went against what I wanted and yet, hit it dead on. Maybe because I normally would have considered you both “off limits” since you were a couple.”
“Was it just sex?”
“I guess. I suppose I wanted to feel something too. I kind of envied what you both had and I suppose I wanted to be a part of that.”
“Why haven’t you gone out and found that for yourself?”
“Truth be told, I don’t know. I guess it’s one of those things that either happens or doesn’t.”
“Sometimes you have to make it happen.”
“I’m thirty years old. I can’t stand the bar scene. I have weird hours and travel too much and I, well, just became too sedentary. Plus I am comfortable, I am an adult and I can handle myself alright. I’ve led a good life thus far.”
“I can’t argue with that. I just advise you to think about whatever you feel is missing. If it’s love, then why not go after that.”
“I just believe things will happen if they are meant to.”
“Sometimes they happen on their own. Sometimes you have to will things to happen.”
Lawrence finished his wine and placed the empty glass on the end-table. He turned his muzzle and looked into the flames of the fireplace. The orange glow shone upon his white and gray face, accentuating the texture of his muzzle-fur and peripheral whiskers that caught the fire’s light in a lambent corona which outlined the fringes of his profile. 
Jim nursed his half empty glass, occasionally stirring it with an agitated gesture. He looked into the purple hued black, observing the glimmering reflection of light on the wine’s surface, aware of a peculiar confluence of emotions accompanying the resurgence of recollection. The sensations ebbed at his conscious along with the intoxicating euphoria of anticipation. The wolf studied the coyote, intently gazing upon his mature features and the attractive patterns of fur, feeling a slight thrill of exhilaration as his wine enlivened senses studied his nearby companion. He could perceive the eroding of a barrier between fear and a neglected, but all too familiar emotion, one that bordered on the illicit. The peculiar emotion veered through his nerves and synapses, casting a glimpse on elements of his past, showing him forgotten signs, bodies, and anatomy persuaded toward the periphery of memory. 
He sighed, drawing the coyote’s attention from the seething glow emanating from fireplace. The coyote acknowledged Jim, severing him from contemplation. The welcome silence persisted, save for the soft breath of wind and rustle of barren branches in tree and shrub beyond the windowpane. They sat juxtaposed on opposite ends of the long crimson sofa with its threadbare spots and improvised patches of similar though not identical fabric. The wolf’s gaze drifted toward the coyote, sitting cross-legged making observations of his own. Jim felt the presence of distance assert itself. They both eyed the worn couch separating their bodies. The space seemed as vast and vacuous as the most expansive of astral distances. 
The wolf identified a subtle sign on the coyote’s features, hidden in the reflection of firelight and stray fur. He could detect what he dared categorize as affection, or at least a certain consent no word existed for. Jim longed to doubt the creeping realization, through the discrete onset of a smile that eschewed all ambiguity confirmed something as capricious as adolescent eagerness. In the ephemeral passage of a moment their bodies stood poised for intermediate action, hesitant with unspoken affects, but understanding of a mutual urgency.
In a graceful motion he watched the coyote’s paw reach through the stillness and flicker of amber light, across the empty space between them. Delicate outstretched fingers outlined with soft short gray and white fur beckoned, yearning to be taken. The boundary once comprised of space and strangeness suspended itself and vanished into vapor and chance. An expression of understanding came across Jim’s muzzle. The wolf’s large paw breached what empty space remained and took hold of the coyote’s in a fervid hold. Convective warmth flowed from paw-pad to paw-pad through the touch of furred fingers and the sensation of living skin against it counterpart, brushing the limits of another body as if it were the periphery of another world. A smile appeared on both their muzzles as the wolf’s thumb gently caressed the outline of Lawrence’s claw. A moment of hesitancy belied mutual excitement, proximity Jim could not reject nor refuse.
The slightest of tugs offered gentle persuasion, to which the coyote responded without resistance. He moved with his ears swept back, his gaze slowly sweeping toward the wolf’s facial features with a look of utmost timidity, as if something were about to be denied or taken away. Lawrence’s body came to rest beside the wolf, his slender outline in imminent contact with Jim’s form. With barely perceptible movement Jim’s whiskered muzzle inched towards that of the coyote and touched it in the initiation of a kiss. The fur of their muzzles and the bare skin of their lips made contact so softly it preceded the realization of its occurrence. 
Their whiskers mingled beside lips pressed together in intimacy, moist black noses made tender contact and warm exhalation blew through short muzzle-fur in soothing proximity. The wolf held his coyote tight, pulling him even closer against his body, sliding his paw down around the small of his back. Lawrence leaned in, all hesitancy diminished, replaced by other urges progressively making themselves known. The wolf broke the kiss and without words gazed upon his partner, sharing a knowing glance of admiration and consent. Jim brought his paw to the coyote’s long narrow muzzle and caressed the short earth-toned fur. Lawrence tenderly nuzzled the wolf’s paw with a distinct smile upon his lips. 
Jim took in the male scent of his companion, so different from his own. His scent seemed subtle, laden with an appealing fragrance of cologne, masculine in its own right. He kissed the underside of Lawrence’s muzzle applying a round of licks, feeling the texture of fur, tasting the coyote’s aroma. His tongue and lips repeatedly kissed and licked his companion from neck to muzzle with growing eagerness. Lawrence smiled and licked the wolf’s nose in retribution, dampening his nostrils and whiskers with a broad wet stroke. Lips found their place and tongues renewed their combat within the coyote’s warm muzzle, passing along palate and the outline of fangs in an interplay of alternating textures. 
An unknown body lay within Jim’s grasp. He thought of its features and of its secrets. Memories like shadows sprung forth from the archive of recollection. Dark visions of the body’s recesses reclad in the shroud of time betrayed the real with false images, imprinted scents, and the after-images of touch which circulated like illicit currency through the nodes of his mind. Naked fur, demurely revealed aspects of anatomy, the curve of male hips and a cursory glance of pubic fur flashed projected through mind as if imminent, though he could no longer be sure if what he recalled was memory, or imagination, or a hybrid of his past reinscribed with wishful thinking. He recognized the urge of arousal, the subtle pulse and chemical redirection of blood flow. He recognized the firmness of his sheath; drawing his awareness toward visceral needs and the subdued hope the coyote possessed a shared longing.
Jim bucked and pressed his roused maleness against the coyote’s inner thigh. Lawrence issued no response, undistracted from the totality of their kiss. The wolf’s paw slid down the coyote’s flank toward his narrow male hips, inches away from his sheath, coming to rest upon the curve of his butt beside the swish of his tail. Jim wavered. His paw trembled, yielding on the surface of the coyote’s clothing, anticipating the employment of simple tasks of motor-memory, the flick of a shirt button, the negotiation of a zipper, and the handling of a belt. 
Against better judgment Jim gave into his temptations. His paw shifted along the coyote’s slender beltline and descended between their proximal bodies. His open palm came into contact with the bulge of Lawrence’s own arousal, feeling the firmness and warmth against his bared paw-pads, pleased to discover mutual excitement. Emboldened by the positive response, the wolf dared himself the privilege to explore the coyote’s captive maleness, to overcome all resistance. In a deft motion Jim found the zipper and tugged it all the way down with an audible zip that resounded like a shout.
The coyote’s ears perked and swiveled forward in response. He broke the kiss and pulled back, smiling bashfully. Jim noticed a look of reluctance and doubt within his features, alarming him that he had in fact gone too far in his intentions. 
“Hey now,” said the coyote.
 “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to…” uttered Jim.
Before he could finish his sentence the coyote said, “Hey, it’s alright, as you can tell I’m eager myself, but…”
“But what?” said the wolf, expecting disappointment.
“Well, I know we’ve already taken each other, even if that was years ago, but this is sort of our first real date, if you even want to call it that,” said Lawrence averting his eyes down at the wolf’s belly. 
“What do you mean?”
“Should we be doing this? Should we be going this far?” the coyote glanced down between his legs, at the open fly and the exposed white fabric of his underpants visible through the slit in the cloth.
“I thought you wanted to, I’m sorry if I rushed things. It’s just been so long, I don’t know what I was thinking…”
“No, it’s okay, trust me I want to,” the coyote smiled and nodded reassuringly, caressing the wolf’s white cheek. “It’s just that, will you respect me afterwards?”
“Of course I will, you’re my friend. Why shouldn’t I?” the wolf looked curious and surprised by the question.
“I know you’re leaving tomorrow,” he continued, “and I don’t know when we will see each other again. The truth is I feel something for you right now and I want that to grow. In other words, I want you to come back. If I give you everything I have right now,” the coyote glanced back down at the open slit of his fly, “would you want to come back?”
“Of course I will,” said Jim with a genuine look of exasperated honesty, “at the first chance I get, trust me. I feel something right now too. You’ve been good to me.”
“I should probably say no,” said Lawrence, “I should probably zip myself back up, cuddle with you and wait until the right time. I think I lost too many mates because I raised my tail too soon.”
The wolf merely nodded, fearful that he had ruined a perfectly intimate moment in pursuit of more visceral contact. 
“Maybe I’m an idiot,” the coyote went on,”I’ve made this mistake before. I’ve heard every promise there is. But I want to take that risk again. I think I can’t help but be a risk taker.” The coyote smiled, gliding his paw over the wolf’s facial features and over his tall ears. “I must definitely be falling for you,” he said and smiled knowingly. Lawrence inched his muzzle back down and kissed Jim gently on the lips and within moments engrossed himself in a renewed kiss as eager and wet as before. He left the slit of his fly open, from which emanated the musk of his maleness.
Trembling paws clung to fabric draped limbs. Fingers crossed chests, grasped and curled into the white cloth, the fur and flesh below. The wolf’s paw slid down the curve of the coyote’s flank, caressing the soft vulnerable body with a strong paw. The twitch and ripple of superficial muscle felt beneath equally anxious paw-pads. Their tense bodies in utmost nearness quivered restless, impetuous, seething with dynamic movement. Arousals pressed upon hip, thigh, and belly. Maleness concealed beneath the shrouds of fabric brushed against the shape of a counterpart.
 Jim’s body tensed as if an electric shock coursed through him, recoiling as the coyote’s hips thrust against his, pressing against his maleness to demonstrate an equal firmness. Without breaking the energetic kiss and the restless wrestling of tongues their paws crept toward the fasteners of their clothing. Lawrence’s paw, visibly shaking, drifted up Jim’s chest toward the nape of his neck. A quick flick of his fingers and a button came undone. Another soon followed. 
Jim’s paw slid down between their hips, returning between the taught mounds of fabric to the coyote’s maleness and slid along its distinct form. It took him a moment to unlatch the black leather belt Lawrence wore. The soft creak of leather and the metallic clink of buckle could be heard amidst the damp sounds of the deep kiss and shuddering exhalation. A remaining button quickly came undone. To the coyote’s apparent relief the tight confines around his sheath relaxed. Lawrence allowed his paw to follow the trail of shirt buttons leading to the wolf’s pubic region, undoing each one along its path. He paused over his belt and teasingly caressed the wolf’s intimate area beneath the thin layer of cloth. 
The coyote wasted little time with hesitation. Zipper, belt, and button proved little barrier for his fingers. Jim soon found the slender paw under the fabric of his pants and undergarments for its first unmitigated touch of lupine maleness. The coyote’s finger-pads slid over the pre-slick skin of the wolf’s cock-tip. Fingertips brushed the curved point at the apex and followed its shape down along its ridges and tender slit down to where the wolf’s privacy disappeared into the fur of its sheath.
Jim broke from the kiss and exhaled a shuddering breath. His eyes remained closed and his lips partly opened, panting a hot breath. The coyote proceeded in showering Jim’s muzzle with kisses and short laps. The wolf, collecting himself, slid his paws up under the coyote’s loosened shirt. His paws caressed the naked abdomen beneath, passing over the curve of flank and tender belly before descending to tug the waist of his pants down off his hips as far as he could. Lawrence’s red venous cock-tip immediately appeared partially exposed from under the elastic band of his underpants. A visible wet spot shone through Lawrence’s briefs.
Lawrence leaned back, bracing himself above Jim, who slid down to recline on the worn sofa. The coyote’s shirt draped loosely from his torso. His bare white-furred chest and belly framed with bands of gray and brown fur layered in that order upon his long and slender body. The tip of his cock featured prominently just below his waist, contrasting with his white fur. Lawrence smiled down at Jim with a timid and innocent smile as if exposed before another for the first time in his life. The wolf realized something very provocative in the coyote’s pose. With a mere inch of his maleness divulged to the wolf’s eyes, a slight preview of the remainder kept secret beneath unfastened clothing, charged with incalculable potential. With a few shrugs the loose draping shirt fell from the coyote’s back, catching on his wrists. Lawrence withdrew his wolf-pre moistened paw from Jim’s underwear to slip from the garment, letting it fall to the floor in front of the fireplace. He remained there, bare-chested, illuminated in the fires seething light. 
Jim reached out and caressed Lawrence’s body, passing his fingers smoothly through the coyote’s fur. The coyote’s paws came to rest upon an exposed section of the wolf’s belly-fur between his naval and the band of his underpants. Jim watched intently as Lawrence slowly moved his paws from his sensitive tummy up along his flank. His shirt caught on the coyote’s wrists and slid back, exposing more of the wolf’s white tummy. Jim’s ticklish torso twitched in response. The wolf propped himself up on his elbows, the collared shirt he wore fell from off his shoulders and landed at his elbows. He slid out of it and then pulled the T-shirt he wore from his frame. They gazed at one another, shirtless and smiling. 
The wolf’s loosened belt-line tempted the coyote’s paws. Without hesitation the wolf’s pants and underwear were taken off his hips and thighs. Jim surrendered them without struggle. His arousal wobbled stiffly as the fabric that concealed left from his body. Lawrence shifted and slid off the couch upon his knees, coming to rest beside the couch with limp black pants in hand. The now vulnerable and naked wolf remained, totally exposed to the coyote’s gaze. Jim’s excited manhood featured prominently in his pubic region. White sheath-fur circumscribed the reddish tip now free to take its aroused shape unrestricted by pesky cloth.  
Lawrence tossed the garment aside while coming to rest upon the floor on the worn Oriental rug. He sat on his tail that swished between his open legs. Even at rest, the wolf’s body appeared powerful and dynamic. His broad shoulders chest curved into a slender waist, his limbs too suggested inner strength modestly concealed.  His body seemed taught and tense, coated in clean white fur that transitioned into various shades of gray and brown. Lawrence’s eyes widened, apparently amazed at what he had uncovered; the energetic potential, as if the handsome masculinity surpassed his expectations. 
The coyote shifted, a few frustrated kicks shed his unneeded trousers from his body, pushing them under the red sofa with his foot-paw. Lawrence now joined Jim in total nudity, reclining on the floor in coy exposure, flashing a clear albeit brief view of his maleness. The coyote lay obliquely on the carpet between the couch and the fireplace, its light shone through the periphery of his fur. He held his legs spread apart just enough to be suggestive and inviting, but close together enough to hide an obvious arousal.  
They lay mere feet apart, gazing upon each other’s nudity. Naked chests rose and sank taking in eager breaths. Whiskered noses flared aware of the faint scent of male arousal. They stared at each other daring another to make the first move, contesting who would give in first and claim his mate. After a moment of unparalleled anticipation at the erotic zenith of their sexual desires, Jim gave in and slid off the sofa. He crawled toward the coyote on paws and knees, his erect wolf-hood dangling from beneath his belly. Reaching out the wolf laid both his paws on the coyote’s knees, he half pulled them apart, Lawrence half obliged, revealing the coyote’s exposed arousal to the wolf’s sight. 
Brown and gray bands of fur surrounded the creamy white fluff of the coyote’s inner thigh, it extended over his balls and sheath and up his belly and chest, back down his crevice and the underside of his tail. His erect arousal stood out from amidst the clean fur.  As the wolf crept forward broad paw’s descended into the coyote’s thighs and caressed the tender, unguarded male aspects residing there. With interest bordering fascination the wolf inspected Lawrence’s male form.  Its tapered length bore the familiar canine shape, the knot taking shape beneath an attentive caress. 
Jim paw found its way under the coyote’s averted chin, raising his muzzle up to his, meeting him with a smile. A kiss touched that smile, leading the approach of the wolf’s denuded body, which eased itself upon the coyote’s frame, matching warmth and proximity. Chest came to lie upon chest, undulating with the shift of breath. Soft belly-fur mingled and aroused maleness bushed against aroused maleness with the sway of hips.  The coyote’s paws reached around Jim’s body and passed through his warm naked fur. Their ears stood perked, perceiving silence, save for the wet sounds of their kiss, brisk inhalation, and subdued tones of pleasure.
Hips drove their firm arousals against the smooth length of the other, forcing their tapered tips into one another’s belly-fur. The clean white fur of their soft tummies soon became matted with canine pre, which coated their lengths and seeped into their pubic fur. Lawrence’s paw slid further down with its fingers spread over the wolf’s taught butt. Muscles tensed as the wolf bucked, pressing balls, sheath, and cock against the other. Lawrence then slid his paw between their bodies to take hold of both slick lengths. The sensitive underside moved with perfect friction against its counterpart. 
”Careful now,” Jim said, “I’m not going to be able to last that long if you keep that up.”
The coyote smiled, suddenly looking devious, his paw did not stop, “is that so?”
“Are you sure you’re not part fox?” replied Jim.
“Is that an insult or a compliment?” 
“Take it any way you want.”
“Oh murr, I get a choice now?”
“Nope,” the wolf smirked, “captain’s orders.”
“I’ll let you do the steering then.”
“Are you ready, then? You sure you want to do this?”
Lawrence’s features returned to the timid, glassy eyed gaze he expressed earlier, a tender look impossible not to empathize with. Jim caressed Lawrence’s muzzle and cheek and returned a comforting, trusting glance full of love and confidence. The coyote nodded slowly yet distinctly with a bashful certainty which belied his eagerness. With that confirmation the wolf leaned back and began repositioning himself. He moved forward and swung his knees from between the coyote’s legs to the outside. The wolf knelt, straddling the coyote’s slender body. His long torso rose above Lawrence who lay on his back propped by his shoulders, anticipating guidance. Jim reached behind his body and underneath his tail taking hold of the coyote’s pre-soaked cock which he stroked with a firm grasp. The wolf straddled the coyote, angling Lawrence’s cock beneath his own tail. 
“Umm,” the coyote muttered, visibly confused.
“Umm what?” said Jim.
“Umm what are you doing?”
“Umm, just because you’re smaller than me doesn’t mean you always get to bottom.”
“Umm, is that so?”
“For tonight, at least.”
“If you say so, I’m in no position to argue.”
“You’re in the perfect position for me, now hold still. Oh, and lick this.” The wolf held out his paw, palm up beneath the coyote’s muzzle. Lawrence looked at him perplexed but obeyed, applying a broad lap across the wolf’s fingers and palm, dampening the fur and the skin of his paw-pads with the slick surface of his tongue, tasting his, or rather their combined pre on its surface. The wolf brought that paw beneath his tail, applying Lawrence’s saliva to his intimacy. The wolf’s eyes closed, appearing to vanish in concentration. A faint wet sound emanated from beneath the wolf’s tail, until Jim brought his paw to Lawrence’s girth, taking a moment to evaluate its length and dimensions in a systematic touch. 
The wolf then braced himself above Lawrence’s body, bringing his paw to the coyote’s shoulder. He raised his hips and lifted his tail, directing the pointed and ridged tip of coyote arousal to his prepared tail-hole. His gaze met the coyote’s to share the brevity of a moment to communicate via the inflections of expressions. He read complex symbols of emotions written upon the canine’s muzzle and within the crystalline depths of his eyes, fathoming perhaps a glance approaching amorousness, or at least a deep appreciation with the power to abate what was more than residual fear. The wolf closed his eyes. His features took on an emotionless expression of resolution, appearing dominant even in submission. 
He descended. The coyote’s maleness touched the bare furless spot beneath Jim’s body. Pre-coated tip and sensitive slit touched utmost intimacy.  A droplet of coyote musk contributed slickness to the wrinkled skin. A guiding paw helped the tapered tip find the wolf’s center. The canine cock tip stretched the wolf’s ring and began its entry into the tight confines of an intimate passage aided by just enough improvised lubricant. It passed into the warm and slick folds, parting the way for slender length. Jim emitted a soft cathartic moan as his body received the coyote’s dimensions. Lawrence couldn’t hold back a sigh nor resist a shudder that passed through his entire body.
Lawrence’s paws moved to the wolf’s flank, passing an encouraging caress over the layers of fur. As slow as the wolf’s descent, the coyote’s paws followed his curves, his hips, his thighs, finding their way to maleness that in those moments reached the zenith of its form. The coyote’s paw slowly stroked the pulsing wolf-cock, coaxing clear viscous pre from its slit in conjunction with the sporadic flex of Jim’s stressed tail-ring. The slick fluid poured onto Lawrence’s belly and paw, lubricating the purposeful touch in canine musk. Hilted, Jim opened his eyes and gazed glassy-eyed upon his companion, subjected to the sensory overload. He allowed his lips to find and softly touch the nearby pair of smiling lips.
The wolf’s body retuned up along the venous length, re-exposing the glistening girth to the dim sparkle of firelight.  As their lips and tongues made renewed contact in a wet and intensifying kiss, a thrust returned the coyote’s cock back into the wolf’s warm slickness. The push of swollen knot against stretched tail-hole propelled the wolf forward into Lawrence’s clutched paw. Lawrence’s hips set their united bodies into motion, bringing a paw to Jim’s flank and with the slightest of touch directed the wolf’s movement, fine tuning the angle of his descent and the speed of his motion, while offering a bit of encouraging stimulation with the other. 
The stretched and strained wolf felt the coyote’s cock forced deep into his body, as deep as his knot would permit. Each hilting thrust pushed the knot against his furless opening, sending length through his bowels, displacing his interior with a distinct canine shape. Every ridge and curve moved through him, gliding across the tender pliant flesh of his most personal confines, parting the narrow interior, breaching the innermost depths with its formidable length. Delicate tissue became flush with the venous skin, lubricated with growing quantities of musky coyote pre.  He felt as though he could feel the musk leak into his body in stiff pulses, seeping into him, leaving him marked or branded in the sultry essence of another. 
Their lips parted as their motions picked up pace. Muzzles hovered in close proximity, hot exhalation passed over their faces. Tongues dashed out against neck, ear, and facial features yearning to taste their companion. Flavor and sexual scent flooded their perception with an indescribable but vaguely familiar erotic vapor. Their eyes occasionally made contact, sharing a knowing exchange of thoughts not fit for verbalization. The gentlest of instructional touch, repressed utterance, the flick of ears, and mere glances became more than adequate communication, expressing desires, urges, and needs known only on the periphery of consciousness. 
The naked wolf rocked over the coyote’s body, colliding with the swollen coyote knot with each cycle of movement, feeling the push against the strained skin of his weary tail-hole. The wolf discovered a yearning to direct its tip into even deeper and tighter regions of his passage. He arched his back, willing his body to conform to Lawrence’s angle, bringing the coyote cock in contact with the bulge of his prostate and sending it as deep into him as his body would allow, sending it further into his belly than he imagined possible, displacing the sensitive folds of flesh in a way that could extol the most visceral moans and shudders.
Swollen knot ceaselessly drove against the ring, as if willing it to give. Jim visualized the knot nudging the flesh of his tail-hole, felt the muscle strain under the intense barrage, and the stinging stretch of the weary band under the force of ceaseless thrusts. On the periphery of his subconscious, in the region of his mind responsible for the most illicit and vulgar thoughts came an inspiration. Jim immediately discarded the idea as too shameful, but exactly because the idea remained so forbidden and so taboo, the thought persisted and began to displace his doubts. The strange pleasure of fullness, the pressure from within helped erode all doubt and fuel a more permissive urge. He found himself willing to entertain the thought. It seemed wrong, even among his circles, but the wish was there, fully articulated, and only grew. He wanted to test the limits of his body. He wanted all of the coyote deep inside of him, he wanted to be locked in undeniable union, and he definitely wanted to be bred.
Jim felt shame in even giving the idea the legitimacy of being considered, however the greedy, sordid desires became more and more persuasive. He wanted to feel it happen whether or not the coyote would grant him consent or not. The wolf relaxed his tail-hole, the knot immediately slapped against the tight band, almost entering his passage then and there. Pain surged through the wolf’s body. Jim winced, inhaling sharply as discomfort displaced pleasure. Lawrence seemed to notice the change in his mate’s demeanor and behavior, but before protest escaped his lips, the wolf rose, sliding his body to the very tip of the coyote’s cock and descended with speed and force he did not exerted before. He came down upon the knot at the apex of Lawrence’s thrust. The lobed firmness slipped into the tight tail-ring, nearly stalling against the taught muscle, but a final urge forced the knot past the point of no return. Jim’s ring flexed around the narrow shaft behind the knot and felt the tickle of sheath-fur against the exposed patch of bareness. He felt the sting, the numbness, the fullness, the tie.
Jim braced himself as pain resonated through his pelvis. Lawrence’s motions instantly stopped as his cock buried itself deeper into his mate. The coyote gasped, instinctively compelled to thrust his entire shaft and knot as deep as the wolf’s body would allow. Then Jim felt the coyote try to pull himself out as a reflex, causing him to grunt with discomfort. He placed his paw on Lawrence’s bare chest instructing him to halt. 
“What? Why did you do that?” asked Lawrence confused, following, “are you alright? What’s this about?”
“I want this,” Jim said as the pain began to subside. 
“You’re full of surprises aren’t you, wolfie,” said Lawrence, with a hint of empathetic understanding, “You didn’t have to do this for me.”
“I’m doing this for me,” said Jim.
“If you say so, wolfie. I can’t promise to behave from here on out, but you know that, don’t you?”
Jim nodded.
“So the wolfie wants to be bred now, does he?” said Lawrence, a gaze as promiscuous as it was amorous in his eyes. 
Jim nodded again, feeling the shame coursing through him again, displacing the pain but leaving him feeling hollow and vulnerable. It was too late to go back, he was tied and would remain so for the indefinite future. He closed his eyes and braced his body for the breeding that would follow.
Lawrence smiled and said jokingly, “Okay, wolfie wanted to be bred, so that’s what will happen. Think about names for our cubs.” 
With that Lawrence resumed his movements, both his paws moved to the wolf’s hips, holding his body in place. Jim began to realize just how deep the coyote was. Lawrence’s cock tip surged beyond his accustomed depth, into the seldom explored regions within, depositing the first droplets of pre further than anyone ever before. Jim had never felt so full. He had never even thought of consenting to a tie. He still struggled to process what had allowed him to engage in one. The leaden realization that nothing could undo the circumstances he had wished himself into sank in. A symbolic permanence transcended the event that would become secret truth between him and his now mate.  
Lawrence closed his eyes and began to pant, with rapid pace his hips bucked and thrust his captive length into the tight depths of his willing mate. The coyote angled his hips in search of the tightest depths or the best stimulation he could find, buried with knot, shaft, and curved cock-tip within pre-coated interior. Jim understood the urges that befell a tied canine, knew that he would lose his companion to an endorphin fueled ecstasy until an inevitable and forceful climax from which he would reemerge as mate. The restrained thrusts accelerated, growing more desperate, as if governed by some frantic indecision, yearning for many desires at once, delved deeper with an almost constant flow of pre. Jim felt a growing certainty with which the coyote’s paws held him. The hold became a coercive command, tugging his body down, forcing his cock even deeper into the tightest section of passage yet. Jim moaned, Lawrence refused to stop; satiating whatever innate urge compelled him.
With an instant termination of all motion, the coyote thrust himself as deep as he could. There his cock pulsed, jetting sticky coyote cum into the wolf’s bowels. Cum shot deep into his passage and splashed about his intimate walls. Jim felt the throb of Lawrence’s cock, the quick rush of sticky warmth spread through him, marking the regions he preferred to keep private with the white potency of another male. The thick fluid coated his interior and seeped down around the coyote’s twitching length filling what little space remained between them. The wolf understood he was being claimed, filled more with every instant with the genetic material of another, marked as bred, the coyote’s mate. 
The realization did little to distract him. Jim vigorously stroked his own length, gliding his right paw from pre-oozing tip down over slick knot. The fullness within, the growing pool of seed, the ache of release quickly reached its apogee.  Just as Lawrence’s protracted climax tapered into a satiated ooze of cum in a succession of after-pulses, the wolf took his turn. Jim’s body straightened, angling his cock tip upward toward his mate’s muzzle. The wolf flexed his tired and strained tail-hole, the visualization of adult maleness and ejaculate filling him to the brim brought him to the brink of ecstasy. Enticed by the thrill of being marked, he rocked against the firmness inside. He discovered the perfect push and pull through his depths, against prostate, where the aroused ache and impending urge originated. Jim shuddered, exhaling heat in a sequence of needy huffs. His cock jerked as his seed began to course through him. He felt the fluid well at the base of his cock, pumped in satisfying throbs. His paw darted toward the base and clutched the swollen knot, grasping it tight as if to hold onto the source of aching pleasure. 
Long stringy jets of white wolf cum shot across the coyote’s chest. Lawrence flinched as his muzzle and nose became showered in wolf semen, its unmistakable scent immediately reaching his nostrils. Jim sighed as his pent up male essence left him jet by jet. His body shivered and tingled from toes and fingertips with the immense pleasure and sensory overload. His balls emptied themselves on his tied mate, leaving the coyote covered in pungent wolf cum, the once clean fur now stained in viscous cream-colored male fluid.
Jim subsequently collapsed on the coyote, bringing his paws around Lawrence, letting the remainder of essence seep into the unmitigated proximity of fur. He pressed his cheek to the coyote’s cum coated cheek. The conjoined pair panted heavily, each body clinging to its writhing companion. Chests rose and sank with quick respiration, muzzles with parted lips exhaled and sighed and weary muscles jerked as nerves flared in post-coital agitation. A paw would flex and clutch matted fur. A demurely lowered ear would swivel its tip upward sensing the soft sound of sexual aftermath. Eyes quivered beneath lids pinched shut. 
The wolf dared his eyes open. The exuberance of heated intimacy gave way to coy guilt. His hips ached and his tail-hole felt sore and stretched beyond comfort. The coyote cock he had wished inside him stuck there, preventing detachment. The sensual throb of maleness within him and the perceptible trickle of cum through his over-sensitive bowels became too much stimulation to bear. He instinctively raised his hips in an effort to slide off his mate, but the thick knot within him only tugged futilely at the inside of his tail-hole. Jim resigned himself to the fate he got himself into and gazed upon his mate, the coyote who lay beneath him, covered in his ejaculate, breathing heavily with a distinct satisfied smile upon his features.
 “Are you okay?” Lawrence asked softly, breaking the silence between them.
“Yea,” replied Jim with timid softness in his voice, barely overcoming a tremble in his throat. 
“You where great,” said the coyote, sliding his paw up the wolf’s body, furrowing his matted fur with his fingertips.
“Thanks,” said Jim, pausing for several minutes as the coyote’s allaying touch soothed him and placated his doubts and shame. “I think I needed that.”
“I think we both did,” said Lawrence. “I didn’t expect that at all, but it was wonderful.”
“Yes it was,” said Jim, slightly revitalized following the intense physical and emotional strain of their lovemaking, or rather his breeding.
With the once forbidden urge diffused into the ache and tingle of exhausted nerves, a new and secret wish took shape on the verge of the wolf’s consciousness. Thought turned to action as his lips touched opposing lips in a weary kiss. Muzzle met muzzle in the wordless embrace of post-coital reverie. Each flick of tongue, press of lips and diminutive lick connoted unspoken affection and an unassimilated awareness mutually realized in the periphery of thoughts. Timid resistance and coy recoil signaled intrigued acquiescence. The subtle flick of ear, soft nuzzles, and the proximal touch of limb and body reflected understanding words could not express.
The fire slowly burned down as the two conjoined bodies slowly recuperated upon the sun bleached rug between worn vintage furnishings. Amber glow evanesced into the crimson red of smoldering ember. Their outlines blurred vague in the absence of light and the periphery of their surroundings vanished into the black. Only coronal reflection of exhausted light made affect-laden expression’s half-visible, revealing concessions of emotions hidden in the dark corners of their bodies. Coyote and wolf held each other under the pall of night in the diminishing warmth of an old home while a wind blew against windowpane and branch and bush swayed in the autumnal cold.
After an indefinite period of time the coyote’s softened cock diminished. Knot slipped from lupine tail-hole. Jim gasped and shuddered as the canine maleness departed his body; leaving him empty and sore, save for the traces left behind. A mixture of Lawrence’s cum and pre, amidst other moisture trickled white from the loosened tail-hole and down the fur of Jim’s crevice. The wolf panted and sighed feeling his worn body aching, empty, and dirty. A sense of loss accompanied the emptiness but so did the delight in being used and made to conform to his present condition.
Jim rolled off his mate’s body, lying on the rug on his back beside the coyote. He stretched his sore and stiff body feeling every joint twinge in relief. They stared at each other for a few minutes, sharing a knowing glance. Lawrence got to his feet. His lithe frame trembled with the ache of weary bones. The coyote stretched out the soreness in his body in a sequence of audible cracks.  He extended a paw to help Jim up, who managed himself upright with a dizzy wobble. The coyote took the wolf’s paw and guided him around the furniture and up the staircase that led to Lawrence’s loft-bedroom. The floor-boards and stair steps creaked under the step of bare foot-paws, breaking the silence. A chuckle could definitely be heard from the top of the stairs. The light above went on and then off a moment later. The fire burnt itself out leaving Lawrence’s home in darkness.
* * *
The beige Rolls Royce wove through traffic, cutting off a smaller Toyota that slammed on the breaks out of instinct. Lawrence gripped the steering wheel firmly and darted his muzzle from left to right inspecting the roadway, looking for openings and opportunities to speed. Jim clutched the handle above his head and braced himself in near terror. “Watch it,” he said as the coyote began to tailgate a semi that seemed only inches away from the winged Spirit of Ecstasy hood ornament. “You’ve got your bird, this one belongs to me. Trust me,” said Lawrence in supreme concentration.
“Don’t get us killed. It would make me look bad to show up dead,” said Jim, instinctively extending his foot-paw to engage a break that wasn’t there.
“Hush,” said Lawrence taking his paw off the steering wheel to flail it at the wolf in an effeminate gesture.
“Wish we hadn’t overslept,” said Jim. I wouldn’t have minded some more time with you.
“Me neither. You had to shower didn’t you?”
“Yea I had to. We made a mess of each other last night.”
“No one will notice.”
“The cockpit is a small place, of course they would have.”
“Hah, cockpit,” chuckled the coyote facetiously    
“Dirty coyote,” scolded Jim playfully.
“Dirty wolf,” mocked Lawrence, “we will get you there on time.”
“We’re already late.”
“Shut up.”
The coyote managed to successfully navigate his vehicle through the maze of roads still unfamiliar to the wolf, bringing the car through the sequence of ramps that led to the airport. The wolf nervously tapped the walnut veneer of the dashboard with his claw-tips, much to the coyote’s discomfort. “Hold on, we’re there,” Lawrence said, glaring at the wolf’s paw.
After a few minutes of heavy traffic in the airport’s departures horse-shoe, the coyote pulled the Rolls Royce over and brought it into park. The wolf quickly leaped out grabbing his uniform jacket and hat from the back seat. Lawrence too got out, popping the trunk. He retrieved Jim’s travel suitcase for him, handing it to him on the curb. Jim straightened his clothing and stood tall, looking confidant in his garments. 
“You look good,” commented Lawrence, who reached out to straighten a hem on the wolf’s side. 
“Thanks’,” said Jim, adjusting his hat.
“Have a safe flight, you hear?” Lawrence put his paws in his pockets and slouched, looking his wolf over from head to toe.
“I’ll try,” said Jim, taking a pause from his urgency. He looked at his companion and then nudged the coyote’s shoulder with his knuckles.
“Hey,” said Lawrence, rubbing his shoulder. “No hitting.”
“I didn’t hit you,” protested Jim.
The coyote gave a wimpy hit to the wolf’s arm.
 “Ouch,” said the wolf.
“That’s for leavening so soon,” said the coyote looking at his wolf with insinuated scorn.
“I’ll come back for you,” promised Jim, taking the coyote’s paw.
“Please do,” said Lawrence, pulling the wolf into a hug.
“I promise.”
The wolf kissed the coyote on the lips there in the sunshine out in the open. A passerby looked briefly as he walked by and lost interest. They held each other tightly for a long moment before allowing each other to slip from their embrace. The coyote hesitated in letting the wolf’s paw go, but it too slipped from his fingers.
“Bye Lawrence,” said the wolf quietly.
“Bye Wolfie,” said the coyote.
“I’ll call you later on tonight after I make it to the hotel.”
“Please do.”
“I promise.”
They hugged again and then the wolf departed, waving his paw over his shoulder, glancing back at the waiting coyote leaning against his Rolls Royce. The wolf strode quickly and disappeared into the terminal cut off from sight by curtains of glass. The coyote waited beside his car long after the wolf vanished from sight and even after a passing security guard asked him to move. Hours later the coyote arrived back at home and sat upon the threadbare sofa between empty wine glasses in front of the spent embers of the fireplace, a little bit more aware of the emptiness around him. 
Proximity © Rufus