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“So, then." Lura leaned partially back, resting Markus's dragon mask aside as he did so. His tail swished. “Last time we spoke, you made sure to let me know that I'm fooling myself. That the name Lura Strade is a farce, and a lie. Yet here I am. So how's that for someone who doesn't exist?"

The words flashed across him and bit deep, not only for the way they were said, but because Markus knew they were his own words. He took a half-step forward, fingers dragging along the surface of the drawers near where he stood. “It's… I…" But even so, even past the shock and the nervousness, an incontrovertible relief stirred deep inside of him, and with it, joy. “Rhea told me you were here – it's been a month, or, more than that, I… you didn't follow me here, did you? On foot?"

“What? No. I thought you were done with me, Markus. I was ready to move on. I was moving on, in fact." Lura pushed his paws against the side of the mattress and stood up, looking up at the foxwolf across from him. “But then Her Excellency received your message, and she called me in to her office so that we could speak about it, and… I…" He spread his arms out to his side, motioning around the bedroom. “I figured that I should come myself, instead of send a written response in case that… well, I'm not exactly sure. But I'm here now." Then he stepped forward, quickly, and jabbed a finger against Markus's chest. The foxwolf tottered back, and caught himself against the drawers again. “Just as you wanted. Your instructions need work, though; I had to get some help to find the spot you referenced."

It felt as though they were running completely separate roads, as though Markus spoke on one subject and Lura something else entirely. The foxwolf looked down at his paws, saw how he was shaking, clenched his fists, took in another breath… this close he could smell the otter, with that sweet, intoxicating aroma, higher, sharper than his own, yet layered with that same cool sweetness of – of bayshoot, he realized. He smells like home. Gods, if I could only…

Lura was waiting for him. The small head tilted, the brows lifted… the mismatched eyes blinked, shifted from one side of Markus's muzzle to the other, with the broad nose in between twitching as he, too, sorted through the familiar scent. Probably less so, though… Volo could smell Rhea on me. Lura knows me even better. Will he be jealous? Will he still think that I'm…?

“I…" Knowing that he would get nowhere otherwise, Markus forced himself to start speaking. His tongue felt fat and slow in his mouth. “Feel like… I owe you an apology."

Then those eyes flashed again. One corner of Lura's mouth twitched. “Feel?"

“No, I – I know I do. My… time here, has…" Then like debris flowing over the crest of a waterfall, it all pushed out in one great rush. Markus's tail uncurled from his leg. “Has taught me a lot about myself. And about Rhea. And… I've realized that I don't know anything about you. About you." He stepped forward, his single stride wider than two of Lura's, and before the otter could step back took both of his paws in his own. The fingers jerked and flexed, the webbing in between stretching, but then stilled. “About Lura."

Mismatched eyes danced across his face, Lura's mouth hanging partially open. The otter's little tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and he swallowed, blinked, and looked away.

“And you're looking to change that?"

“Of course! I-"

“After – two fucks in the manor courtyard, some three more in the city streets, then you call it off after a simple plea for respect, and-" He yanked his paws away and turned to face away from him. “-now you want to change that?"

“Yes! I said I was falling in love with you – with Lura!" Unsure what to do with them, Markus squeezed his paws into fists at his side again. He gritted his teeth, swallowed, tried to relax his shoulders. “And that's…"

Icy silver-blue eyes appraising him as she stepped out of the carriage upon its arrival before the Oryon manor house. Barely a glance, a brush of the paws, a formal greeting, and she was gone, from both his house and his awareness for some months. And then there she was, and here Markus was as well, and he could not get away from her. And, gradually, that ice began to melt, and gave way to the gentle, sweet warmth underneath: when she said his name it made his heart leap with excitement rather than anxiousness, and he found himself wanting her touch, seeking it out, desiring it… needing it, perhaps.

And then she had smeared ink on her muzzle, an accident, and teased him in. What a fool he had been! Rubbing at it, licking it, working it in further, until her paw caught his wrist and she clicked her tongue, and said – what was it, then? “Kiss me or don't, but don't make me feel like a fool." And Markus had swallowed, and leaned in, and met her there, and…

…that warmth blossomed and spread like a sweet flame stirring within his chest, and despite himself, despite the fluttering in his heart and stirring in his loins, he couldn't help but be aware that he thought of Lura, just a little bit. The way Rhea kissed him was so similar yet so different to what he had had from the otter, like tasting two different types of soup. He loved it, and wanted more of it, but at the same time it made him want more of the other, as well.

And that warmth that took root within him that afternoon in the room, poring over the ledgers with her, the warmth which had spread throughout him so that now he could no longer look upon her without feeling a smile touch his lips and that stir within his chest… it reignited the same flame simmering somewhere else within him, pushed back into the darkness, ignored yet still present.

And now that Lura was here before him again, now that he finally had him back, that flame roared back into his awareness.

“And that's true," he breathed, his voice trembling. Lura's ears flicked back to him. “I was falling in love with you. I am. I hate that you're acting like this towards me, because now I know that it's nobody's fault but my own." Markus tapped at his chest. “I did this. And I know it now. I would understand if you came here to tell me this, that – you're moving on, and you're going wherever it is you were headed before you stumbled across this… engagement ball for some son of some Countess who doesn't know who he is or where he's going. I would understand, and I would… I would accept that. I have to."

Again the ice began to melt, just a little bit. Lura's shoulders sagged; he had crossed his arms in front of his chest, and now angled his head to just barely glance back at Markus over his shoulder, without looking directly at him.

The foxwolf swallowed, throat dry, heart pounding, muscles trembling. “I can't…" His voice broke. “I can't tell you who you are, Lura. That was my mistake. I know that now. Being here, dealing with Lord Thorn, and – Kole Lan, and Rhea, and everyone else… I've never wanted this engagement. I still don't. I don't want the county, and I never did. Mother doesn't want it for me; she wants it for herself, for House Kalla. But I am not the House. I will throw aside the name, if only so that I could make one for myself. And I shall: Thorn is drafting a letter to be sent to my mother, to inform her of his acceptance of my wishes, and I-" -realized he was rambling, dragged a paw across the side of his snout, breathed in between fingers lightly scented with gardenia perfume. “Didn't know where I was going, or what I was doing. I mean – dressing up as a highwayman? As just, some bandit, like some bad romance novel? I was being… irresponsible, and immature, and…"

And all of those other things you said of me, that night we had that argument. All the things Mother said of me.

“And…" Now he reached up to pinch the bridge of his muzzle. “At least now I know that I am refusing the county and marriage because it is the right thing to do. Not only do I neither want nor deserve it, but I could not do right by these things. That's not who I am. Mother wants to shape me into that person, but she can't. She never will. Because that's not who I want to be. For now? Now that you're here, now that I-" He stumbled over the words. “-have you again? I want to find out where and how I fit with you, I think. I couldn't see it before, but the direction I've been lacking… it's there, with you."

As he trailed off, he became sharply aware of the silence in the room. The cicadas outside the window had stilled as well; he could hear only the unstable rhythm of his own breath, dry in his throat. Lura had turned away from him again, inscrutable.

Was that true? In the silence Markus stepped over towards the bed, reached out for it… nudged the edge of the mask so that it clattered to the floor, one of the scales flaking off. He sank down along the cushion. Was any of that true? Where did that come from…?

“And Rhea?"

His ears perked to Lura's voice again. He lifted his head.

Lura turned to face him fully, looking down his short muzzle at the foxwolf. “You don't want the marriage," he went on, “but you want her. No, don't – your scent is not only on her, it is entwined with hers. When I found her outside the manor grounds, I mistook her for you in the darkness."

Markus felt his heart drop into depths he had never before felt. His blood went cold. “Don't make me choose." His ears flattened against his head, the corners of his mouth tugged down, he blinked, and blinked again, and again past the burgeoning strain. “Please, don't ever make me-"

And then Lura was on his knees between Markus's own, webbed paws finding his, holding them, squeezing. “There is much we must talk about and discuss," he murmured, looking up at Markus. “I'm… hurt that you would think I might ask that of you. Do you know why?"

“Lura…"

“Can you tell me why?"

He couldn't hold those miscolored eyes. Markus glanced away, lips tight, trying to steady his breathing.

“Because…" One of those paws reached up, brushed across his chin, turned him to face him again. Markus's shoulders shook with half-suppressed sobs as Lura spoke. “I was falling in love with you, too, Markus. And I, too, still am. But I was deeply hurt by the things you said-"

“I'm sorry-"

“-and when you left, I thought you were done with me, that you might never want to see me again-"

“I'm sorry!"

“And the wounds those words left… they will take a while to heal. Knowing that that was what you thought of me, that I was… lying to myself, lying to you, when all I wanted…" Again he turned Markus's muzzle towards him, thumb brushing across the line of tears where it cut through soft fur. “Was what you've learned for yourself here. To be my own person, to make my own way. And I come here, and I meet Rhea, and she speaks to me on the way into the manor, and she's – an entirely different wolfess from the one I met at your engagement ball. Would you believe that?"

This close to him, each inhaled breath brought nothing but Lura, and his presence, and the awareness of him. Markus swallowed, stifled a little cough, sniffed again.

“She spoke of you." The otter reached up to brush at Markus's eye. “In fact, she wouldn't stop speaking of you. And I was so excited to see you again, but then I remembered how we parted, and that frightened me, but I thought… even if this would be the last time we see each other, even if we say our pieces and go our own ways, it would still be worth it."

There he waited. Markus drew in a slow, deep breath, still trembling; then held it, and let it out. Then he did so again. He turned his paw, rolled his fingers over Lura's, squeezed gently. It took effort, but then he just barely managed: “Why?"

“Because she loves you. I don't know what you did in the month and a half you've been here, Markus, but that was clear to me as soon as she heard me say your name… and now that I've seen you again, and you've spoken to me, and you gave me – all of that, gods, I don't think I've ever heard you say that much in one go… you love her too, don't you?"

“I-"

“And that's why I could never ask you to choose. Because that's something truly beautiful. I would value nothing more than to be able to stand beside you, and call you mine, and know that I am yours." Lura glanced to the side. “Once we… talk about some things, and work through some issues, of course."

Markus blinked again, the tears just now clearing. He lifted a paw from Lura's to rub at his eyes. “What about-" Then he cleared his throat. “So what about her?"

“That's what I'm asking you." The otter sat back on his haunches. “Where do you want her to fit into this? She told me that you had spoken with her about me, and what happened, and what's… going on. But what are your thoughts?"

“I… would…" Is this really happening? I can't believe it. Yet again the foxwolf looked down at his paws, some of his fingerpads wet with tears. Each breath he took felt rich and full now, flowing with the essence of Oryon bayshoot so lightly wafting from the otter before him. Lord Strade of Rowan… “She is…"

“Go to him," she had said, eyes flaring. Now that he knew of it, Markus could not help but see the warrior's spirit in her, the wild, feral ferocity of her parentage: she took pleasure in teasing him, in yanking him around as though he were at the end of a leash, and then pulling him back to her where she knew she could give him exactly what he wanted, even when he didn't know what that might be. There on the balcony, hardly eleven minutes ago, she had pulled him to her, held his muzzle in her paws, and kissed him with that same warmth and affection that he felt blossoming and spilling out for her…

…and then she told him to go to Lura.

Markus shifted his shoulders and straightened up. “She is welcome in that too, if… both of you would have it."

Lura tilted his head, and smiled, and for the first time Markus looked through clear eyes at this otter – and did indeed feel that same flame spreading out within him, the warmth of the bloom growing, glowing alongside what he felt for Rhea as well. “Having her there, alongside you? Alongside us? I could do that, yes, because you love her, and she loves you. And that's all I could ask from either of you in that."

Still he could not believe it. Markus reached out to touch at the otter's shoulders, feeling the padding of the clothing, the rhythm of the weave… the strength of musculature and bone underneath, the sleek, slight mustelid shape. Lura smiled again and tilted his head, one paw coming up to grasp the foxwolf's and lift it up to his muzzle; he caressed his own cheek with it, then turned it around, brushed his broad nose to soft fur, held himself there… planted a single kiss.

“I would… like it if you were to-" the otter began, but did not finish: Markus threw his arms around his shoulders and pulled him up to his level, burying his nose in the sleek pelt revealed there beneath the collar of his shirt. For the first time in far too long Markus pulled in the scent of him straight from the source, feeling all of those familiar, comforting notes wash across him, pushing past everything else: the worry, the nervousness, the fear, the regret, all slid briefly aside as he wrapped himself in the presence of him, relief flooding out through him.

Markus sighed out, his own breath wafting hot around him where he remained buried, and then nuzzled deeper, and did so again. Then he felt his lips part and returned that kiss, then followed it with another, and another; and then he trailed his way up along the line of the otter's jaw to his chin, then his cheek, and his forehead, and down his nose, and then-

Lura nudged his head aside, narrowly dodging the next approaching step. Markus's heart skipped a beat, and he couldn't help but flick his ears back. “What-"

“You kissed her, didn't you?" the otter cooed. “Just before you came here to see me."

“Huh? I mean, I… is that…" Slowly he dropped his paws from Lura's. “Is that a problem?"

“What? Markus…" And Lura peered at him, now halfway crouching so that he was still level with the foxwolf. Blue-and-brown eyes danced across his face, his shoulders, his chest, then back up again; the mustelid twitched his nose, whiskers flicking, then brought his little paws in to tilt the other's muzzle up and forward.

Then when that nose slid in across his fur, the inhalation of breath so slow, so gentle that it sent a cool, sweet shiver vibrating across his shoulders and down through his tail, his eyes fluttered shut and his paws relaxed again. Lura continued in towards his neck, finding a thread of something there, following it down to Markus's collar bone… then around to the front of his chest… then up the other side… and then back in along his muzzle towards his cheek, and his upper lip, and then down to his mouth again, and…

And then Lura kissed him, lips coming in, pressing forward, holding there with that sweet, gentle softness that set his heart fluttering and his arousal tingling. He held in place for a moment, sighed out across Markus's nose from his own, swallowed, drew back… kissed him again, and again, and then wrapped one arm around his shoulders and tilted his head, and dove in deeper. Balance shifted; Markus felt himself pushed back towards the bed, and then Lura was clambering on top of him, one paw on his shoulder, the other pressing against his chest, pushing through the folds of clothing to find the fur underneath.

Then as gently as he dove in did he slide back out, once more tilting the foxwolf's head forcefully to the side to shovel his nose beneath his chin. “I can… smell her here…" the otter murmured, breath seeping out across him like honey warmed by the sun. “And then… up over here, along your shoulder… and, oh, she kissed here, didn't she…" And he repeated the motion at the base of Markus's jaw, then along his cheek, and at the side of his mouth. “And here, and here?"

“And you – ah-" The foxwolf swallowed through his open mouth. “You – like that?"

“Like it? Markus, do you know how much I've missed you? All this time I thought you were beyond my grasp, that something happened between us and you'd never want to see me again? All of that want, and need, stacking in among themselves, building up…" Lura shifted so that he could press himself up against Markus's leg, then, the hot, firm evidence of this desire palpable through his pants. He swallowed, shivered… throbbed against him. “And then I come here, and quickly learn without needing to be told, what's going on between you and someone else, and I… I see how much you bring to her, and I can smell that she does the same for you, and that… that just…"

A wandering paw drifted down Markus's chest. It found the hem of his shirt, tugged it up from beneath his belt, then tossed it over his belly, so that the paw could continue down, pressing into soft fur and skin beneath, spreading from the forefinger and thumb… nestling behind his sheath with the fingers curving forward, cupping around the front, squeezing the thick, supple flesh around the stirring warmth nestled inside. He grunted, sighed, lifted up in the touch.

“…fills me with… warmth," Lura went on, muzzle once more buried in Markus's neck. “Is that strange?"

“It's-"

“From the little we spoke in the gardens and tunnels, she is…" Lura squirmed again, and breathed out another sigh. Markus reached down to undo the fastenings of his pants, shifted up, tugged them down – and Lura's fingers danced up towards his revealed tip, playing across the sensitive, wet flesh, folding the skin of his sheath back further, slipping one knuckle underneath to swirl around, and then resume his stroking. “A hell of a wolfess."

“That's… certainly correct…"

“She is strong, and… determined, and… willing to do what it takes to carry out what she believes is right. That is why she helped me find your room, and why she held my paws and reassured me that you wanted me, and… why…" Another open-mouthed swallow, and then Lura rocked himself to straddle Markus's chest again, briefly busy with undoing his own clothing. Flashes of the Oryon house colors brushed past the foxwolf's muzzle, then dropped to the foot of the bed. “Why her scent is… alluring. I want to know more about her. I want to know her."

“That can… be arranged…" Markus lifted his hips a little bit, then lowered back down as Lura worked at his own pants. The foxwolf ran his paws down the other male's sleek, smooth pelt, hydrodynamic, close and thick… not at all like the feeling of Alenari mountain wolf fur. “She's… waiting on the balcony on the other side of the wing for me right… now, actually…"

“Oh, is she? Well, that's okay, then, this…" Lura paused to bring a paw to his mouth, then leaned forward, reached back, smeared the slickness of saliva beneath his tail… then used that same paw to angle Markus's growing arousal up towards him. “Won't take too long."

Markus had something else prepared, but felt those words fizzle out into mist as soon as the otter began to press back onto him. The tight, succulent heat, the smooth slickness… the deep, encompassing warmth that wrapped around him, pushing down around his length, settling against his sheath… holding and grinding there, twitching, clenching, trembling. Lura's paws dropped down to his shoulders and both pulled and pushed there, the otter working himself into a steady rhythm in his lap, sliding himself forward and back, then leaning forward so he could lift up as well.

Mouth open, eyes partially closed, rudder draped across Markus's leg, Lura swallowed, rocked forward, sank back, rocked forward again, then tilted his head. “She… told me that…" And he leaned in again, the pressure squeezing around the foxwolf's buried length, forcing him to grit his teeth and lift up again. “She, too, shares her heart with another. That was how I-"

“Others," Markus panted, paws caressing the otter's waist. He trailed one in front, ran his fingers through the puff of pubic fur, wrapped around the similarly hard length there, squeezed, stroked, felt the familiar closeness and intimacy wrap back around him. “Some lions. Ah – Sorrel and… Osa, I think…"

“You've met them?"

“No. Perhaps… at the end of this week, or…" But he couldn't take it anymore, and rolled his head back, eyes shut, mouth open, to let out a deep, rumbling moan. “Lura, gods, I've… missed this…"

“Mhmm. I'm sure you have. I have, too," and then the otter's mouth found his and held there. “But you, at least, have had – someone else to… fill the need, while I've…"

With effort Markus opened his eyes again, and found Lura's paw. “We haven't, yet."

The otter sank back down on top of him, held there, clenched, clenched again, his hard cock leaping up towards his sleek belly. Panting gently, he flashed mismatched eyes across Markus's face, then licked his lips.

“So… that means…" Now he leaned back, glancing backwards first, and pressed his paws against the foxwolf's upper thighs. Markus rumbled with delight at both the sensation and the sight, now able to see himself sink up inside of the otter each time he pulled up, and watching his balls squish and press against him every time he slid back down. “I can be there to watch… when you do?"

At first the foxwolf couldn't think of what to say to that. But then he lay further back along the bed, grinding his hips up against Lura each time the otter sank back down onto him, and he closed his eyes, and sighed out… and briefly permitted himself to imagine that it was the plush, succulent heat of full lupine arousal wrapping around him, and her arms on his chest, her paws pushing through his fur, her scent drifting around his muzzle – which wasn't too hard to do. He let himself imagine this, and in that imagining placed Lura alongside himself, resting on one side, enraptured with the view before him, short paw stroking his enjoyment, the otter's eyes wide and his mouth open.

And then, maybe, Rhea would take on the same posture as Lura had here, leaning back with the belly flat, chest out, head riding back amid the waves of pleasure. Markus swallowed and reached forward, caressing the otter's body with a paw, pushing through the short, thick fur as he rode, panting, moaning, trembling; mismatched eyes fluttered open again at the touch, and then Lura gave a tired grin, licked his lips, and pushed that paw further down, down between his legs, to wrap around his eager length.

“Of course you can," Markus replied, the idea still hovering in the back of his mind, further fueling that fire. “I would… like that, and…"

“I know you would." The Lura leaned forward again, paws returning to his shoulders, as he drew himself forward, squeezed around the foxwolf's tip, and then sank back again, tailhole nudging at his sheath, pressing him back further. “I could feel how much you enjoyed that idea. Which reminds me, there is something you could give me to make up for… all of this lost time…"

Muzzle coming closer and closer to his own, Markus lifted up, half-closed his eyes, let his jaw relax so he could breathe through parted lips, and feel the otter's against his. He continued stroking him in rhythm with his thrusts, pushing down each time he pressed in, squeezing, rubbing, coaxing the little dribbles and spurts of pre out into his fur. “Yeah?"

“Yeah, and…" On top of him Lura shivered, sighed, clenched again… relaxed, then deliberately pushed out from inside, rim of his tailhole and the slick, luscious wet heat of his body wrapping snug around Markus's root, knot still unswollen. “…keep doing that, and you're… very close to it already…"

“Lura… look at me?"

So he did, again with a bit of effort. Still Markus braced himself against the mattress to thrust upwards, slower and gentler than the otter's own movements; Lura had woven his fingers into the fur of Markus's chest to hold there, swinging himself forward and back as he rode, energy flooding forth into familiar need. He panted in that rhythm, mouth open, ears back, and just barely managed to hold the foxwolf's gaze.

Markus reached up, other paw resting along the otter's thigh, feeling the tension of his movements and straining of his muscles… and tilted his head up so that he could look at him straight on. Lura blinked, glanced away, looked forward again; Markus smiled, his own exertion and enjoyment puffing out through flared nostrils, and then leaned in closer. Long whiskers twitched forward, broad nose adjusted with the change in the air, mismatched eyes flicked, blinked, refocused inward as he approached.

“I just wanted to… look at you," he breathed, “to see you. Lura, I…"

The otter squirmed on top of him, sucking forward, sliding back, clenching, pushing, and Markus felt his control shudder away. He gritted his teeth, arched his back, and lifted up again, just as the other male rose up, pressed back down, again, and again. Two small paws gripped the sides of his snout, lifted him up, and held him in place, then, so that the two could meet in another kiss, just the first of many: hot, hungry breaths pulled at the inside of his mouth and his lungs, and now he more felt than heard Lura's eager moaning as he let them out across his tongue and teeth.

Amid the kiss Markus pushed his paw back around to the base of the otter's tail, slipped beneath his rudder, touched and teased at sensitive skin stretched around his own girth, all the while he continued stroking at him with the other. Lura seemed to be thrusting forward into his paw as much as he was pushing back onto the foxwolf's length, loving the sensation of both, breath rushing in and then right back out, moans picking up; he broke from the kiss but kept his muzzle against Markus's, then swallowed, shivered, pushed down, squeezed around him, trembled…

…and then the force impacted him so that he bucked forward, and then did so again, cock leaping within Markus's grip, shooting out one, two, three spurts of thick white across the fur of his chest. Lura threw his head back and moaned out into the bedroom air as he finished, every muscle in his body clamping, trembling, tightening. Even after the squirts stopped he was still clearly wrapped amid the throes of intense pleasure, his toes curled, his eyes wrenched shut, his chest heaving… and still Markus worked himself against him, teasing out the slight bulge of his knot and then pressing it back in, bringing himself closer and closer – until Lura adjusted, lifted up nearly off of him, then slid back down in one smooth movement and clenched around the foxwolf's knot, and then he tumbled over his own peak.

And still it took him by surprise in its intensity. Lura's paws on his chest and his breath on his muzzle, then the slick, wet heat of his body sleeved so snug around him, the rim of his tailhole taut behind his knot as it swelled out, the delicious, insistent tugs at that most sensitive spot… Markus felt himself flailing, claws digging through fur and scraping across skin, footpaws trying to find a point of leverage to lift up, to push and bury himself deeper, further, as he pounded over the edge and unloaded deep inside of him. He swallowed, groaned, lowered himself down, then thrust up once more, and finally fell back down to the bed, the lingering echo of the intense peak still reverberating through him.

Stuck in place, panting gently, grimacing only a little bit for the tie, Lura readjusted so that he could run his paws through Markus's chestfur. “Seems like you did miss me," he purred, and leaned in for one more kiss… which naturally stretched out into several more, until finally he let himself rest down across the foxwolf's body. Markus wrapped an arm around him and once more felt over his sleek, streamlined figure, down towards the base of his rudder tail still perked up around the tie, his muscles clenching and twitching.

“So…" Lura drawled after a few minutes. Markus opened his eyes, blinked, turned to look out the window; the twin moons had passed to the other side of the sill. “You said Rhea's waiting for you?"

“Huh?" The foxwolf lurched, squirmed, shivered as he discovered he was indeed still held tight within plush mustelid depths. “Oh. Yeah, I should… sent a servant to find her and let her know that…"

“That you're a bit tied up tonight?"

He lifted his head. “Mhmm. She'll understand."

“I bet she will. Which reminds me." The otter pulled himself upright, a little bleary with the pressure of satisfied exhaustion and imminent sleep. He looked around himself, shifted, drew his legs forward… and then with some careful maneuvering of his lower muscles and a slow, steady tug, feeling like almost enough to force Markus through a second finish, he pulled – and gasped as the girth of the foxwolf's still mostly-full knot slid on out of him, cresting at the center and then slipping freely. Thick, sticky warmth dribbled down towards Markus's sheath, and as soon as that pressure released the otter gasped, jerked, and then emptied one more weak dribble of white from where he had already retracted into his own sheath. Slowly he slid forward until the rest of the foxwolf slid free, and then on shaky legs he rolled off to the side. “Could I – sleep here with you, tonight? I, ah… neglected to formally arrive, so to say, in the eyes of the House."

Markus pulled himself upright as well, then blinked amid the wave of rich, intoxicating mustelid musk that washed over him. He swallowed. “Of course you may. You would – doubt that?"

“Well, I…" Lura looked away. “You seemed very… well, not certain, but… driven, when you left. I wasn't sure what of that might remain, and how much of it you still felt, and…"

He trailed off when vulpine fingers reached out to caress his muzzle and tilt him back. Markus felt the indecision on his breath as he leaned in for one more kiss, this time holding there soft and gentle, simmering in the warmth of his presence.

“I'm just happy you're here now," he murmured, into the thick fur of Lura's neck. The otter sank in against him. “All of that, we can talk about it."

“A lot has-" A shiver bounced through Lura's body, both from the breath and from the careful paw sliding down the line of his back. “-happened, since I last saw you…"

“We can talk about that, too. Tomorrow. First thing in the morning I'll have Rhea notified, and then we can gather to figure this out and settle what needs to be settled. Okay?"

Lura remained silent in the embrace for a few seconds longer and then drew back, arms draping down around the foxwolf's waist. “Your mother would be so proud of you."

“What? No, she wouldn't, I-"

“You haven't been writing, so she doesn't know what you've been up to out here. But, Markus… you've matured so much since I last saw you, and in such a short time."

“I wrote once!"

“Once. And it was about me. I've spoken much with her since you left; oh, the things she's worrying you've been doing…"

“What? Like what?"

“Tomorrow." The short otter snout nudged up underneath his chin, once more pushing him back down to the mattress. Markus chuckled, pulled himself toward the pillow, wrapped an arm around his companion. “You said we'll talk tomorrow."

“Right. Right…" But then just as he started to doze again: “Oh. Gods. I need to let Rhea know. Give me… a moment…"

It took just a minute to wrap himself in the most basic clothing for modesty, but even so, he lingered at the doorway to the bedroom a moment longer. Lura had rolled over onto his side with one arm out where the foxwolf had been just earlier, his eyes closed, his mouth open in gentle sleep. Markus tilted his head, smiled, and then turned to leave his quarters, sticking his head out into the corridor and-

-his footpaw skidded across a folded paper near the foot of the door. Surprised, he glanced down and saw a bottle of wine there too, cork replaced with a temporary stopper instead. He frowned, bent down, picked it up, felt it was lighter than he had expected… realized it was the one he had been drinking with Rhea, earlier in the night. The note he unfolded with a thumb:

Breakfast in my quarters tomorrow. I let the cooks know you were feeling ill and retired early tonight, and will not be around in the morning. There is a passageway behind the tapestry on the upper north floor of the library; it will bring you just around the corner from my door. Knock four times, wait, and then twice more. Your guest is welcome, too, so long as he behaves.

Hold on to the wine. We'll bring it down to the chapel later.

He smiled, looked down the hall one way and then the other, and then took both back into the room.