Foxyfluffs Are Everything

by Kawayama

A hand opened the blinds, flooding the room with light. Direct sunlight fell on a lump of orange fur lying in the middle of the room, like so much dust on the floor. Fur-covered fingers jerkily covered sensitive eyes.
	“Twelve o’clock, and it’s a beautiful day!”
	He groaned. The hangover covered his mind with wet leaves, his thoughts snails. He felt rather than heard feet padding across the floor.
	“Hey Rob, I gotta go. Don’t know where you got that hooch, but that was quality stuff.”
	An answering rumble from the same general direction. The feet came back, on their way out. A paw nudged his shoulder.
	“Hey fox, nice meeting you. See you around, huh?”
	“Sure.” It was more of a croak than a word.
	The door closed. Blessed silence.

 “I thought he’d never leave.” Rob was apparently not going back to sleep.
	“Hmm?”
	“Hey fox, you don’t have to lie on the floor. There’s room on the bed.”
	Slowly he uncovered his eyes. Turning his head was a major effort. The shape of a wolf came into view, the face leering at him. What? Rob opened his legs, revealing the angry red length, the tip wet. 
	“Come on, it’s all cold like this. You can warm it for me.”
	“Urr… Rob, uh…” Oh, this is not good. He was feeling nauseous as it was.
	“Come on,” Rob pleaded. “You can have breakfast in bed.”
	Oh God. He was turning green, the bile rising in his throat. On all fours, he loped unsteadily to the bathroom, his hip bumping into the doorframe. Luckily the lid was up. He heaved semi-digested snacks into the white bowl. What is all this stuff? His stomach contracted again, and again. Fuck.
	“Wow. I’ve been rejected before, but that was vile.” Rob was in the bathroom with him. He risked a peek sideways. The cock had deflated, mostly, it was halfway covered by the sheath.
	“Sorry. Bad timing. Just the thought of eating…”
	“Yeah. Well, I gotta pee. You done?”
	He rose, geriatric. Flush it away. That’s better.
	“All yours.”

The kitchen door had at some point been replaced by one salvaged from an office building, two sheets of glass rattling in plywood. The sink was cluttered with glasses, bottles. Thank God for drinkable tap water. Gargle. And again. Is there orange juice? Yes yes yes, thank you, yes. One glass later and the world started to get into focus. Did Mike say twelve o’clock? He glanced at the round shape over the door. More like half past. Shit. And Rob was feeling amorous. Phone, where is the phone? He padded back into the small apartment’s single room. 

“Where you talking to somebody?” Rob appeared in the bathroom door.
	“Just calling a cab.”
	“You’re leaving?”
	“Yeah, sorry, I gotta get home. I’ve got this paper due in tomorrow…” He picked up the long winter coat. Sun or no sun, it still looked bloody cold outside.
	“Shit… uh, I’m sorry I came on so strong earlier. I’m not at my best first thing… Look, stay a while. We can um talk…” Rob advanced on him. Oh yeah, talk. We can talk buckets. Sure. He backed down the short hallway, shrugging the coat onto his shoulders.
	“Rob, I’m sorry, it was great hanging out with you and Mike, but I gotta go.”
	“No no no, don’t go!” Rob was on him now, panic shining in his eyes. 
	“Rob…” Backing him up against the kitchen door, Rob grabbed hold of his shoulders.
	“Look, I can be…” Not finishing the sentence, deciding on action rather than words, the grey wolf leaned in to kiss him. He recoiled, bumping his head on the rattling upper pane. Rob moved in, ignoring his unwilling lips, the long wolf tongue probing, coaxing. Caught, he pressed backwards, his mind desperately seeking for escape paths. When he realised the pane was giving way, it was already too late. Closing his eyes hard, he tried to steel himself. No go. The crash was deafening, sending spikes of pain into his fragile brain. Still, Rob was even less prepared, jerking back confused. Quickly he slunk out of the wolf’s grip and to the apartment door. It was all quiet behind him as he turned the knob. Sensing a change in the wolf, he turned to see Rob still in the same spot, shoulders slumped in defeat.
	“I’m sorry, Rob. Maybe—” No. “…Sorry.” He closed the door.

It was frigid outside. He wrapped the coat tighter. The wind kept sneaking in under the hem, chilling his ankles. Not to mention the icy ground slowly freezing his paws. Should have worn sandals, even if they look silly. But where was that bloody cab? Then he heard it. Petrol powered? What is this, the stone age? The antique four-wheeler sputtered to a stop in front of him, exhaust clouds billowing from the back. Aren’t these things forbidden? Barely hesitating, he opened the back passenger door. Beggars can’t be choosers. And I’m not freezing my butt off waiting for a modern cab.
	The driver turned to face him. An otter? Driving a cab?
	“Where you go?”
	“Um, Saint Michael’s Place. Number seven. Up on the hill above the station?”
	“I know it.”
	He settled into the mottled back seat. It wasn’t even modified for tails, forcing him to lean sideways against the window. He saw the drivers seat had been changed to accommodate the driver’s thick appendage, curled under the seat. At least it was warm in here. Watching the streets go by, he allowed himself to relax. Dammit, it was stupid walking home with Rob. Past experiences should have thought him that. But it had seemed safe, with Mike there too. And Rob hadn’t been after him, during the evening. They had just hung out, played games, and drunk Rob’s hooch. Loathsome stuff. And then, this morning, it was like throwing a switch. A horny wolf with a one-track mind. Reducing him to a hole to fill with red dick. And he had apologized for saying no! Rob should fucking well be the one to apologize—
	“Foxes love the cock.”
	“What?!” Jerked from his thoughts, he found the driver looking at him in the mirror.
	“Other drivers, they say foxes love cock.”
	“Well, other drivers are obviously narrow-minded assholes.”
	“You not like cock?”
	Is this guy for real?
	“I’ve been told all otters are fishermen. Apparently it is not so.” 
	“I am fisherman!” The driver was adamant.
	“You’re driving a cab.”
	“I am fisherman! This is… temporary.”
	“Ok, whatever.” He turned back to the window. Hopefully that was the end of that.

He was beginning to make out familiar landmarks. Five more minutes and he’d be home.
	“You not pay fare.”
	Now what the fuck? He looked at the driver. There was something in the otter’s eyes he recognised from earlier.
	“You suck my cock, you not pay fare.”
	It’s a conspiracy. It’s a fucking conspiracy. You can’t get away.
	“I have a better idea. How about you drive the car, and I pay you money.”
	“You—”
	“And you shut the fuck up about sucking cock for five minutes!”
	Grumbling, the otter turned back to the road.

Finally, home was in sight. He handed the cabbie the money and opened the door.
	“No tip?”
	He got out.
	“Don’t insult your passengers.”
	“Huh?”
	“That’s my tip. Don’t insinuate that your passengers are whores, and you’ll get loads of tips, I’m sure.” He slammed the door. “Now take your environmental disaster and get the fuck away from me!”
	Slowly, the car left the curb. He watched it turn the corner. He turned and walked back three doors. No reason to give an unknown cabbie his correct address.

He closed the massive apartment door behind him. Wood panel over metal shut the world out. 
	“I’m home,” he called, even though he could already hear something heavy bounding towards him. It still amazed him that no matter the speed Jim came at him, the cougar somehow managed to brake so that they didn’t slam into the door. The strong arms embraced him tightly.
	“Foxy! Where have you been! I was worried!”
	“I was out with my workmates, it got late. You know.” I told you yesterday.
	The cougar, face buried in his neck-fur, breathed in deep.
	“You smell. Alcohol, and… have you been smoking?”
	“No! Uh. They where passing one around.”
	“One?”
	“You know. And Rob’s room isn’t that big…” He felt the cat stiffen.
	“You were with Rob?” The words were forced. Not this again.
	“I was at Rob’s. I wasn’t with Rob.” He pushed them apart, so he could look the cougar in the eyes. “We were out drinking. At least five of us. It got late, and we went over to Rob’s place, because he lives close, and he had booze there. We were just talking, and I fell asleep. Like I do. Okay?”
	The cougar lowered his eyes. “I don’t like Rob.” No shit. 
	Jim raised his head again. 
	“Why didn’t you call me! I called you, several times!”
	“I know, I’m sorry. I took my phone off. And I just woke up, and I had to get out of there, and there wasn’t time… I wanted to get home to you.”
	“What is it with you and phones.” A faint smile on Jim’s muzzle. “Couldn’t you have called from the cab?”
	“No. Trust me, I couldn’t.” And anyway, I was just a few minutes away from you. “I’m tired. I gotta sleep.”
	“Oh no, you don’t. Not smelling like that. You’re taking a bath.”
	“Jim, please. I’m too tired.”
	“I fixed the dryer.”
	He looked at his mate. It was his turn to smile. 
	“OK, then. A bath it is. You’re the best, you know that?”

It was dark when he woke up again. The lights from the street below reducing the room to shadowy monochromes. Jim was behind him, spooning, a sand coloured arm loosely draped over him. Soft breaths disturbing the slightly longer fur on his head. He wasn’t sleepy anymore. Also, he had an erection. He could feel Jim’s sheath and balls against the root of his tail. Damn the cat for sleeping so close. No, not really. He felt safe. And horny.
	What to do.
	He could wake Jim up, of course.
	Unsubtle.
	He could try and get back to sleep, or sneak out and read a book or something.
	But the throbbing between his legs wouldn’t let him.
	And Jim was right there.
	Hm.
	He could reach the bedside table without moving too much. Just a few centimetres up towards the wall. He had to gain a bit on Jim’s crotch anyway. Moving carefully, he soon had the lube in his hand. Briefly he reflected on the irritating fact that he needed to get his fingers sticky. It would be so much easier if he could just slip it in without lube. He dismissed the familiar thought, focussing instead on not waking the cat behind him while getting the lube between his legs. His fingers rubbing the frictionless goo into his sensitive hole made him close his eyes in anticipation, his cock getting even harder. He slowly raised his tail, letting the bushy appendage caress the dormant genitals behind him. With the tail out of the way he reached back with his clean hand. Oh yeah. Half hard already. A bit of fox tail on the balls does it every time. He gently grabbed the cock through the sheath, slowly pumping. He found himself wishing he were down there, being able to see the short-furred orbs, the soft sheath, the slowly growing flesh. To be able to caress the cat properly. But turning around and scooting down would definitely wake Jim. Next time, then.
	He pushed the sheath down as far as it would go and traced the warm length with his fingers, the tips slipping over the familiar veins. Circling the blood-filled head along the rim, his index finger found a drop of smooth liquid at the top. Ooh, eager. He stopped to listen. Steady calm breathing. Still sleeping. Probably. But not for long, he’d bet.
	He pushed the cheeks of his arse apart as much as possible with his lubed hand, still stretched between his upraised legs. Bending the cock slightly, he felt the head make contact with his eager ring. His own erection throbbed, smearing pre-cum on his arm. He pushed out as much as possible, trying to get the solid length past his defences without waking its owner. Moving his whole midsection backwards, his pink flower was soon forced to give up the fight. Suddenly the fat head was inside him. Air left his lungs explosively. Oh yeah, that’s it. Vaguely, he noticed Jim breathing harder too. Never mind. He pressed down further, letting new parts of Jim into himself. Just a little bit more. Finally he could feel the sheath bunching up at his entrance. He rested a bit, luxuriating in the feeling of Jim’s cock buried in his arse. 
	He started moving, sliding up and down the lubed flesh. Lying on his side, he had trouble getting any distance to his strokes, his fur protesting if he rubbed against the bed sheet. Neither him nor Jim were overly fond of him being on top, sitting on Jim—it could be nice as an introductory manoeuvre—but right now he wished he had the freedom of movement that that position gave him. Moving his body in a sort of undulating wave, he got a rhythm going, but the strokes were short. It was frustrating. Apparently Jim thought so too, giving up the pretence of sleep. The arm draped around him moved up to grip his shoulder, the body behind him tensing as Jim started thrusting up to meet him coming down.
	“Oh yeah…” 
	He couldn’t help panting a bit. This was more like it. Long strokes, slicing into him, massaging his insides all the way. 
	“That’s it… Take me…”
	“Yeah?”
	He could still hear some of the sleep in Jim’s voice, but the cat’s body seems fully awake, turning him belly down on the bed and pressing down on him, all the while not missing a beat. Faster than he anticipated, Jim shifted into second gear. There was no question about it anymore, they were fucking. He was being fucked. 
	He loved the feeling of Jim’s powerful body above him, thrusting into him, using all the cat’s force to push the long dick as deep as possible, again and again, him all but helpless beneath, pushing back against the wall with both hands to avoid slamming into it. Jim knew what to do, what angle to enter him in. With each thrust he was being brought closer. His cock had made the sheet slick with precum, and as he rocked back and forth a relentless assault was made on the sensitive underside. He wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. His balls were drawn up tight against the root of his cock.
	Jim was breathing hard, the pent up frustration of his absence the night before fuelling the increasingly ragged strokes, faster, faster, faster. He recognised the urgency. No chance of backing down now. It was on him. Fireworks went off in his brain. He could feel the semen shooting through his dick like an express train and spread out beneath him. The muscles in his arse gripped tightly at the cock moving erratically in him, the sudden influx of extra lube making the passage extra slick. 
	“Uuuhh…” They said it in tandem.

Jim fell down heavily beside him. The big cat would be asleep in moments. He was sleepy himself, all energy drained, but… Almost as if he asked for it, the familiar doubt beset him. Would anyone do? Am I just a warm body, a hole to stick that impatient dick in? The convenient fox? 
	“Do you love me?”
	“What?” He could hear the sleepy surprise in Jim’s voice. “Of course I love you. You know that.”
	“Yes… I just…” Tell me again.
	“Hush. I love you, foxyfluff. You are everything.”
	The sand coloured arm arched over him and cradled him to the warm chest again. He smiled. Jim was telling the truth, he knew it. He breathed out, and was asleep.

This story was inspired by a short flash loop by Fredryk Phox. All similarities living or dead are purely coincidental.