It was evening, Mark had just come home from work at the plant. He opened the door, stepping in with the crickets chirping quietly outside.

He took off his hat and coat, and hung them from the coat rack. His fur was covered in a light dusting of soot, a mask around his eyes.

Removing his boots, he heard soft snoring from the other room. He smiled softly to himself at the mental image of that adorable raccoon in that same vulnerable position every night.

Mark tiptoed into the bedroom, the door giving the slightest of creaks. His paws quiet as silken velvet across those old wooden floorboards.

Thomas lay sprawled out, bedsheets curled around a leg. The heat must've made it unbearable for him. Mark just smiled as he idly let his eyes wander over those soft features.

Thomas turned with a soft sigh, catching Mark's attention. A glimpse of Thomas' sheath through the leg of his undergarments. Mark couldn't deny a sudden spark of desire.

Mark slipped his trousers down, the coarse canvas rustling only a whisper as they settled on the floor, his shirt following. The dim lighting filtering in through the cloudy window illuminated Mark's body, the fox's torso trim and his legs toned.

Careful not to wake Thomas, Mark crawled up the bed. He was stopped short of his destination, that desire drawing his eyes again to the soft bulge in Thomas' garment.

Tired as he was, it still called. As potently as the first time those years ago. 

Mark lowered his head and took a long deep breath, that scent uniquely his and his alone. He drew his tongue across the fabric holding his prize, taking a moment to admire merely the sensation of pleasing Thomas.

Another lick, and Mark felt the telltale twitch. Awake or not, Thomas wouldn't complain. Mark gently applied pressure to that sheath, his paw gently molding to its form. Another throb.

"My Thomas" Mark whispered, knowing the raccoon was far too deep asleep to hear. He slipped his digits into the sleeping male's shorts and eased them down. Just enough to reveal his craving.

It was there in the soft light that black furred sheath, the gentle sheen the onyx skin of Thomas. Mark blew a soft breeze across the flesh, admiring the motion the appendage made at such attention.

Mark took the tip into his muzzle, drawing his tongue across that sensitive touch. The gentle pulse against his tongue told Mark all he needed. 

The exquisite taste and texture, the rising and falling rhythm. It was all too perfect.

A soft breath escaped Thomas, tinged with lust. Mark's heart swelled. He felt compelled to expedite the process. His tongue curled and his body moved, his saliva coating evenly over that piece. 

With practiced ease, he drew soft murmuring of ecstasy from Thomas. He couldn't wait longer, Mark lifting away to sit astride his mate with that onyx pole betwixt his gluts. He angled just so, and sunk his mate deep within himself.

A soft groan rose from Thomas, a surge of blood to his groin letting Mark know to continue. 

The soft noises were all that anyone would hear, Mark slowly rising and falling on the hardened flesh. Thomas still fast asleep with images of his lust in his dreams.

Mark could feel himself wrapped so tightly, encasing his love in embrace. The two males were bonded, Mark could feel. His pulse roared in his ears, his soft whimpers unrestrained.

Thomas gave a soft gasp, and Mark felt a gentle heat enter him. The heat was all it took, his core tensing before his own protrusion ejected its contents.

Tired and weary, Mark drew close to Thomas, kissed his cheek, and passed into restful slumber.