FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The light of the moons coming in through the window played across the wolfess’s fur as Markus followed, her hips swaying, her tail tickling at his thigh, one of her paws in his. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to feel her, to guide her, but knew – she was as much in control as he was. Already it felt like a dance: Rhea turned to face him, rested her paws on his shoulders, smiled; he smiled back, tilted his head, licked his lips, swallowed… and both of them leaned in, found the other’s lips, held there, drew back. Her paws came up to his jaw and muzzle, then one moved down the middle of his chest, teasing at the buttons of his shirt, popping them free with little difficulty.

His own spread out along her sides towards her back, feeling the curves of her body beneath the fabric, the lines of fur and muscle and soft skin. Hers laced up the back: moving in for another kiss, head turning one way while hers went the other so that their tongues could dance and push and play, Markus fiddled with the laces, managed to undo the knot, bit by bit released the pressure until it slid along her shoulders, and dropped slowly open.

He shifted his own arms to let his shirt drop from his shoulders and into a heap at his feet. As usual Rhea had left the window open, with some of the lukewarm summer night air coming in to run its fingers through his fur alongside her own; she felt him as much as she touched him, pulling, squeezing, holding him where he stood. Every time she swallowed, he could feel the pressure against his own mouth, with the wolfess moving forward, sucking at his tongue, drawing it deeper… pulling the breath out of his lungs, pressing her own into the back of his throat. Markus felt himself stumble, and redirected around, and pushed back; Rhea slid her arms away from his body to handle disrobing herself, and he watched as smooth fabric curled away from soft, stone-grey fur, showing the puff beneath her neck, the smooth swell of her chest… the sweet firmness of breasts, pink points of her nipples rising gently out.

Then her paws were on his again, and she pulled him forward, guided him into hefting her, feeling her, squeezing her. Such indulgent, delicious heat wafting from her body, the silken-soft skin smooth beneath his fingerpads; further down as he continued to tug her clothes away, he found another little point of soft flesh within the fur, then another, and another, further nipples lining her belly, flat against her body, somewhat stiff with burgeoning arousal.

The scent hovered off of her as strong as that warmth, just as dizzying, just as welcoming. Her breaths came and went in short, quick bursts where she stood, shoulders pitched forward, muzzle coming in towards his neck; Markus tilted his head to the side and grimaced around a nip to his shoulder, then a stronger bite. Fangs dug through fur to skin, held there, tugged, and she-

-growled and stepped forward against him, seizing his wrist, pushing it further down her body. Markus’s fingers slid through thick, soft pubic fur, down into damp, humid heat held within her pants – and then spread around the mound of her protruding sex, lupine spade thick, plump, full. In a flash the foxwolf recalled his stray dream on the carriage ride over, foggy and indistinct with time, but he remembered this.

The wolfess leaned over him, lips still clamped on his shoulder, nostrils flaring with unsteady breaths underlined with murmurs of voiced moans. Like warm, soft silk, like smooth velvet, it spread and squished and shaped around his fingers as Markus turned his paw, pressing up against her, circling two fingers around… then slipping into sweet, succulent folds, the muscles of her body immediately clenching in response, tightening down around him. Rhea shuddered against him, groaned out, bucked down against him; he felt that ring of muscle sink down along his knuckles and then back up, and then again, and then she drew back – with the skin of his shoulder tugging between her teeth until it came free – so that she could finally turn him towards the bed.

“You need this,” she panted, eyes fixed on his. “Don’t you?”

Markus took in another breath, heavy with her scent and the sting of sharp, rich, intoxicating arousal. Sticky slickness matted the fur of his fingers past that first knuckle, and it took all his willpower to keep from lifting his paw and sniffing at it – until Rhea did it for him. She gripped his wrist, tilted her head, lifted his paw… smeared those fingers across his upper lip, and then leaned in to lap the wetness off, all the while her paws continued at his pants, further undoing the fastenings and dropping them to his footpaws. Once again he sank into the vortex of kissing her, her paws finding their way around him, pushing along his sheath, squeezing his length, coaxing him further out.

Where she stood, she was able to angle him up, to rock her hips against him so that his tapered tip nudged up between the thick lips of her spade… and then drew back again, smearing him in slick heat. Markus trembled, his arms around her waist, and bumped his muzzle to hers.

“Mhmm…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell me?”

Bit by bit she led him towards the bed, backing herself up against it, pulling him along with one paw on his waist and the other at the root of his shaft, forefinger and thumb massaging the supple skin of his sheath. He gritted his teeth, bucked in her paw, dug his fingers into her sides.

“Rhea…”

Once again she leaned in for a kiss. In the middle of it Markus slid his paw towards her belly and ran the pad of his thumb over two of those nipples, pressing in just slightly. When he drew back he met her eyes again, and breathed deep of her scent and her musk, and felt her paws on him, and the tingling desire thrumming through her body… and saw the familiar feral, animalistic need in her silver-blue eyes.

And he gently snapped his jaw before her nose, just enough to make her jerk back, ears perked. Markus flicked his tongue out over his lips, and hers as well.

“You tell me first.”

For a moment she stared at him, and then grinned. Once again her paws squeezed his muzzle, pulled him forward, dragged him into a kiss – and then she lay back along the bed, the rest of her clothing dropping at the foot, lifting one leg up and letting the other hang down off the edge. Markus stared across her body, over the smooth, soft shapes of her shoulders and breasts, then the pinpoint hints of smaller nipples across her belly, and the full, plump weight of her sex hanging between her legs. One paw dropped down, fingers spreading along the base… tugging the slick flesh apart from itself, showing rich, glistening inner folds along the jiggle of succulent mass.

“I think it speaks for itself,” she purred, leg reaching for him. Markus stepped forward and felt her wrap it around him, then tug him closer. “But if you want to hear it-”

The bed bounced when he dropped nearly on top of her, paws pushing into the mattress near her shoulders. “I need this,” he murmured, breath dripping across her muzzle.

Rhea lifted up just far enough to touch her nose to his. “I do, too.”

And instead of kiss her lips this time, he planted one to her nose there… then one at her neck, and her shoulder, and the line of her collar bone… and then down around the curve of her breast towards the nipple, where he let his tongue dance and swirl around the semi-firm skin, drawing it up, pulling it towards him… sucking it between his lips, to press and squeeze and tug. Rhea squirmed underneath him, chest swelling out with inhaled breath; Markus pulled against her, swallowed, sighed out, then dragged his tongue across that nipple and moved to the flat one underneath, until her fur matted with sticky saliva.

And then down further, bit by bit; he moved across to attend to its partner, then down to the next row, and down again, gradually dropping himself to his knees at the foot of the bed. Woodsy perfume and soft gardenia gradually gave away to the rich fullness of pure, unbridled lupine underneath, tickling at Markus’s nose where he dragged it through short, soft fur, and then further down, wet warmth nudging up against his chin, tugging across his jaw, tingling at his lips, her scent took on that higher, brighter, almost metallic touch, the inimitable spice that set his heart pounding and his muscles tensing.

He couldn’t resist. The foxwolf drew back, paws hooked underneath Rhea’s thighs, and both drew her closer to the edge of the mattress and spread her further, the movement quick enough that she gasped, jerked along the bed, and tried to readjust, plump spade bouncing against the edge. Supple pink flesh rose from within the field of soft grey, the fur around its base matted down with gathered wetness; Markus licked his lips, swallowed, leaned in again, and sniffed, her scent thick in the air, curling like steam, drawing him in closer.

His paws shook, even as he squeezed in along her legs. The foxwolf’s jaw fell open, and he adjusted how he knelt, and he lifted up a little bit so that he could still see her eyes, and then he came forward… ran his lower lip along the girth of her sex, dragged up towards the tapered peak, felt the soft squish, the thick pull, the firm give, the tension of sensitivity throughout, the way she clenched against him. He swallowed again, drew in a breath through his parted lips, felt the heat of her need tingle at the back of his throat – and then, finally, wrapped his mouth around her.

Rhea’s back arched with that first sensation, leading Markus to have to grip her legs even more firmly to keep her down against him. Even without breathing, the potency of the wolfess’s musk flooded his senses, floating around him, drawing him in closer; his tongue folded easily forward in between these plump lips, sliding, slurping up inside of slick, squeezing walls, teasing in, drawing back out. Again and again he dug into her, pressing a little bit further each time, feeling the way she squirmed and squeezed around him, how she lifted her hips to grind against his maw and then pushed back down against the bed, how one leg hooked around his shoulders to pull him further in while the other bumped against his back, fervent energy ricocheting throughout her.

With a soft pop Markus pulled up off of her but kept his tongue draped forward, cupping the rounded base of her spade, lifting it up, giving it a little bounce and jiggle. Above him the wolfess let her legs drop to the side, chest heaving with slow, steady panting; she licked her lips, reached down to run a paw along his head… worked her fingers into his fur, tugged him forward so that once again his lips squished against hers, except this time it was her thighs clamping around either side of his face instead of her paws. He swallowed down that first bout of sticky slickness already coating his throat and resumed his work there, swirling his tongue all the way around her, following the lines, the folds, the smooth contours of this full, heavy mass, then teased inwards again…

…and kept on going until he just couldn’t anymore, tongue buried among squeezing walls of succulent wet heat, lips and nose scrunched back against her. Every breath consisted of nothing but her, every swallow felt thicker, and each time she clenched he could feel it around his tongue, against his lips, on his chin where it dug up between her legs. The foxwolf shifted again, let his eyes flutter shut, and slid a paw down his own body, to squish his sheath back past his unswollen knot and squeeze up along his length, similarly slick, hot with this growing need.

He scooped his tongue out of her again and then worked it across, and again, and again, now turning his head this was, now the other, while stroking at himself. Markus shifted, swallowed, scooted closer; he teased his lips back and forth across Rhea’s, picking out how this scent was deeply, undeniably hers, and so similar to what he had picked up on her a few times before; he nipped at the pointed tip, tugged it between his lips, slid his tongue in between those folds again, danced across the slightly firmer nub of her clit nestled just within, and then once more parted his jaws to close his mouth around her.

Just like before, she gasped, squirmed, and arched her back, one paw clamping down between his ears, the other bracing against the mattress. “Mar_kus…” she breathed, teeth gritted. “_Please…”

His ears perked. The foxwolf pulled himself up off of her, making sure that his lips and tongue dragged across sensitive flesh, and nudged his chin along her lower belly while she panted. “Yes?”

Rhea’s arms came up his sides, paws slightly shaky, as he moved to position himself above her. Full arousal resting across the plush pillow of her saliva-slickened sex, the foxwolf swallowed again, tilted his head, and bumped his muzzle against hers, deliberately smearing her in her own scent. Her short whiskers twitched and tickled, and she curled a lip, folded her tongue out, lapped across his face, met him in another kiss.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she breathed, a paw caressing his jaw.

He reached up, folded his own around it, squeezed – and then gave a small thrust from his hips, pressing the underside of his shaft along her spade, feeling the full lips peel back to give way to sleek slickness inside. Both of them tensed, shivered, sighed. “What do you think?” he murmured, once he could speak again. “I do want this. Is this… okay with your lions?”

“I thought I’ve – mentioned that…” The look in her eyes, the growl in her voice, the way her claws dug into the flesh of his arms where she held herself against him, hips rhythmically rocking up to heft his shaft along her sex and then drop it back down, teasing at bringing his tip inside. Her tail swished, wagging against his legs, tickling at his sack. “Osa’s asked how you kiss.”

Markus leaned in a little closer. He angled his body, reaching down to run his fingers along his shaft, to push himself down… “What did you tell her?”

“That she could find out for herself if she really wanted.” Strong fingers worked down his sides, to his hips, and then to his rump, coming close to his tail, gripping into soft squish, yanking him forward. Sweet, succulent warmth squeezed around the foxwolf; he arched his back, shivered, sighed, held there, drew back… pressed forward just a little bit, just enough to feel her part around him. “And they – think we’re… already… active, and…”

“And I wouldn’t… want to disappoint them…” Markus wet his lips, swallowed once more, then leaned in to touch his lips to hers, slid into the kiss… and gradually sank into her as well.

His eyes wrenched shut, his jaw fell open, his back arched; his ears flicked back, his tail hoisted at the base, his toes curled… and Markus lost himself amid the sensation, that same silken smoothness he had felt along his tongue now squeezing around his length, slipping open for him to press deeper, twitching, clenching. Rhea lifted up against him, still gripping his rump, still pulling him down against her; the closeness of her embrace, the tight grip of her body, the squish of her spade rolling up around his shaft, sucking snug. Markus drew back from the kiss to catch his breath, nipped her lower lip in his teeth, dove back in; his paw scooped around the heft of her breast, lifted, squeezed, then continued down again, fingers bumping over the little points of her nipples – and she reached in, seized his wrist, and forced him down again so that his fingers spread around the base of her sex, stretched around his half-buried shaft.

So easily he dove into the depths of the contact, his hips pumping against hers, breath mixing, scents muddling, and yet still Markus never once lost the awareness of her. With past experiences had had found ease and comfort in closing his eyes and giving in to the sensation itself, the pleasure searing through him, the rhythm and momentum – but with Rhea he found that the impact was as much her as it was the movements or the feeling.

He loved opening his eyes and seeing her underneath him, her muzzle angled to the side, her mouth hanging open, her eyes half-lidded, lost in the pleasure – and then fluttering to meet his gaze, with her lip curling in a gentle smile. Each inhalation carried the strong spice of wolfess, rich and sharp, a little bit jagged… fierce, bestial, vigorous. Her spade pressed in between them each time Markus thrust forward, and then tugged out along his shaft when he pulled out, gripping snug, slick inner walls sucking.

Markus was out in the woods beyond the manor walls; he was in the mountains, where a comfortable breeze blew and ruffled his fur, and if he tilted his head and sniffed at the air he could pick up the distant scent of a fresh hunt, alluring, inviting, a little bit dangerous. Adrenaline simmered, sizzled, pumped; his lips curled up into a low growl, his hackles tingled, his claws dug into fabric. He lifted his nose beneath Rhea’s chin, tilted her head up and away, then parted his jaws – and dug into the soft, sensitive skin and flesh there, squeezing gently at first, then firm… and then she jerked, and gasped, and moaned against him.

“Markus…” she panted, one paw coming up his back. His rump tingled where the claws pricked from within the skin. “They think you’re – wonderful…”

He swallowed, sucked where his lips clamped on her throat, drew back, and dragged his tongue across that same spot. Rich warmth trickled and spread across the inside of his mouth, melding with the sharp spice already there. “Lura says the same of you…” he rumbled in response, voice hardly more than a murmur. “And you are.”

She tightened around him, sleek muscles tugging, spade lips squeezing. Markus gritted his teeth, tongues of flame rearing higher, pressing out from a slow, roiling ember into a searing blaze. After the shivering remnant of this clench shivered out of her, the wolfess settled back against the bed, nostrils flaring in a sweet, exhaled sigh – and silver-blue glittered up at Markus above her, one paw streaked with the slickness of their sex brushing across his cheek, smearing down his fur, tilting him just a little bit.

“As are you,” she purred, and moved to meet him in another kiss. The foxwolf’s rhythm slowed; for a moment he lost himself within the embrace again, then felt those muscles and lips squeeze around his shaft buried to the brim of his knot – and tugged out, only to pound back in. Then again, and again, and again, each time squeezing himself up against her, supple skin of his sheath folding back against itself with the pressure; her spade sucked into place around him, clenching each time he pressed in, pulling as he tugged out, wanting him to remain buried deep, needing him inside of her.

The way she tightened her legs around his waist, Markus feared that he wouldn’t be able to move in time, but – perhaps it was him arching his back, or pulling back from the kiss for fear of puncturing her lip with his fangs, or the growl in his chest rising to fever pitch, but the wolfess finally released him, pressed herself against the bed so that her lower body lifted up against him, and gasped and jerked and bucked. Her jaws clacked with the force of her orgasm, body writhing, hips grinding – wet warmth spraying against him, soaking his fur, spurting around his still-buried shaft, until finally the foxwolf yanked back, dug his fingers into the bedsheets so that he heard the fabric tear, then thrust forward with the wet lips of her spade spreading around his knot-

-and his entire body lurched and pulsed with the first spurt, and the second, and the third, streaking out to smack against his chin, and the side of Rhea’s muzzle, and across her breasts. Panting, groaning, Markus grinded down against her, the sensation of his now fully swollen knot tugging between her spade yanking out the rest of his finish; he felt like a rope tied around itself and drawn taut, so tense, vibrating with his own energy, until finally he was able to let his shoulders drop, and relaxed his jaw, and opened his eyes again.

Rhea looked up at him, panting between parted lips, then gave an exhausted smile. He returned it, touched his nose to hers, met her in another kiss… slid to the side, lapped his own seed off her cheek, did the same for her neck and shoulder. Then her breast as well, and each painted nipple… and the bedsheets rustled as Markus once again dropped to his knees, her musk now entwined with his own, his scent and mark soaked through her pubic fur, dripping from her arousal-swollen spade. He could taste himself as he slurped his tongue within those luscious folds again, hot, slick, wet… suckling easily between his lips, holding there, coming free with another pop before he came back up and flumped onto the mattress beside her.

Markus rested an arm over his muzzle, blocking out the dim light of the moons from his view. After a while Rhea’s paw draped over his chest, fingers spreading within his fur… heart pounding, body tingling, chest heaving with breaths still unsteady. Even in the pleasant, simmering heat afterwards, world spinning around him, each breath and every swallow reminded him of where he was, and what he had just done, and – of Rhea beside him, nuzzling up along his jaw, placing a string of little kisses across his cheek towards his lips. He wrapped his arm around her body, tugged her closer, entwined a leg between hers, leaned his muzzle to the side…

…opened his eyes, blinked in the darkness of the room. Blearily the foxwolf sat up, Rhea stirring beside him. He swallowed, distantly tasted her again, wiped at his eyes, his mouth… his chest.

“I should… get back to Lura…” he grumbled, and scooted himself towards the edge of the bed. “But, gods, I don’t want to move…”

Gentle paws rested along his shoulders from behind. The wolfess’s muzzle slid forward alongside his, her breath soft and sweet. “Bring him back here, then. I know for a fact the bed fits three.”

“Mm.” Markus nuzzled against her. The fur along her chin was a little bit matted. “I think I need to catch my breath a moment longer.”

She patted his shoulder. “Go now, or you never will. But be careful, you – uffh – reek of me…”

Begrudgingly, the foxwolf hoisted himself away from the bed, wobbled on unsteady legs, and padded over to where his clothing had been tossed earlier in the night. He swallowed, suppressed a yawn, leaned down… start working everything back on, but only enough to cover himself for a midnight walk through the halls.

As he wandered, legs drawing him along the path without conscious thought, he realized that the manor felt different tonight. It couldn’t be the moons, or the wind rustling in through the windows, or the guards standing at attention as he passed, or the servants bowing and sweeping aside. As though in a daze or a dream he floated, halfway here; he was awake, he was here, but at the same time the sensation of his clothing on his fur, the breath in his lungs, the swaying doze tickling at the fringes of his awareness – had he fallen asleep, afterwards? – felt somehow distant.

Returning from Rhea’s quarters to his own, ignoring the secret passageway to which she had keyed him in, took a trip down a stairwell and then another back up. This foggy sensation had begun to dissipate somewhat by the time he reached the familiar hallways, and when he rested his paw on the knob, took in a breath, and pushed it open, the feeling of a dream returned – except as a dream from which he had just awoken. The foxwolf blinked, blinked again, rubbed at his eyes, and looked around the familiar space: the closed windows and half-drawn curtains, the simple but elegant furnishings… his favored practice sword from Lan’s visit resting atop the chest of drawers, his scuffed dragon mask beside it – all here, all as he had left them, all real.

And he crossed the entryway, not even bothering to close the door behind him, and nudged open the bedroom door. Cool, chill silence flooded out to greet him, punctuated gently with slow, soft breaths; Markus leaned against the doorway to watch and listen for a moment, still wrapped in the presence of Rhea, now absorbing the warmth of Lura as well

My mother, my father, and Lua… then Rhea, Osa, Sorrel. The foxwolf crossed his arms in front of his chest. Myself. Lura. Rhea. With those walls broken down, the expectations removed, the reluctance conquered… it’s so easy. He continued across the room towards the bed, took care in climbing up onto the mattress, then dropped himself in behind the snoozing otter. An arm draped around Lura’s chest and tugged him in, with a smaller paw reflexively coming up to grasp his own; the otter squirmed, sighed, nudged back against him… twitched, half-lifted his head, sniffed at the air, then rolled over to face him. Markus blinked in the darkness and looked down at him, mismatched eyes glittering in shades of grey in the darkness.

“Oh.” Lura stifled a yawn, swallowed, nuzzled into the foxwolf’s neck. “I thought… you were Rhea.”

Markus chuckled. “Are you disappointed?”

“Mm… no. A little. Maybe. You…” That broad nose shoveled more firmly into his neck, then pressed down along the line of his shoulder. “Smell like her…”

“Yeah, that’s what – she was warning me of, I-”

Webbed paws gripped his shoulders to roll him over onto his back. Lura swallowed, open-mouthed, and sniffed at Markus’s muzzle again, then his chin, then his neck… then further down his chest, digging into the folds between his half-buttoned shirt, and down further. The foxwolf rumbled and squirmed, bedsheets falling away from the other male’s naked body, Lura’s sharper, heavier mustelid scent wafting up as well.

“Ah – Lura, you-”

“You know, it’s…” Then deft paws once more worked at the waistband of his pants. Baffled but not too surprised, Markus scoffed, lifted up, tugged them down, gave his still-damp sheath a jiggle in cupped fingers, and immediately received a nose pressing against the rim. “Good on you.”

“What – ah – what is?”

“Her scent…” Lura’s head rested along his loins now, the otter’s body angled, his paw lifting Markus’s sheath so that his snout could nestle behind it. Each breath sucked in through sensitive fur and then dribbled back out between parted lips stirred at his arousal again, teasing him out, Lura following his shaft as it grew. “Her – musk. Gods, you… oh, you really did, didn’t you?”

Markus pressed his lips together, closed his eyes, shivered at the sensation of the otter’s tongue flicking out to dance across the slick lip of his sheath… remembered the sweet slickness of the wolfess’s spade gripping around him, sleeving along his length, trying to draw him deeper. “Y-yeah…”

“I can… imagine…” Lura ran his fingers down along Markus’s sheath, the fur there still matted and sticking together. He lifted his head, deliberately letting the foxwolf’s shaft drag across his cheek, and repositioned to scoop his nose in between plump balls, breath coming in slow and sweet through thick fur. “Gods. It makes me… want to…”

For a while he expected the otter to do the same as he had upon his arrival to the manor, climbing over Markus’s body and pressing back – but instead he rolled onto his side between his legs, scooted himself more firmly into position, and then buried his muzzle there, digging back and forth, hefting his sack over his nose and then letting it drop back down, nipping his sheath between his lips to peel the tacky skin away from the slick flesh underneath. Lura panted and moaned gently, one paw keeping the foxwolf pressed around his muzzle while the other worked between his own legs, slowly but surely.

All breaths, sucking in, puffing back out, reigniting the scent and slickness smeared across him; Markus felt the skin of his sack sucked between soft lips and held there, then released; he felt the lip of his sheath squished against the otter’s nose, then tugged down so that the sensitive interior flesh folded out, dense with hos own scent as well as hers; and he wriggled and writhed with the otter between his legs, enjoying his enjoyment of Rhea’s claim.

Markus pulled in a breath of his own, swallowed, and bit his lower lip. He reached down to caress Lura’s head; the otter’s eyes flickered partially open, mouth and nose buried in the space between sheath and sack, and still he continued pawing himself off.

“Lura…” he murmured, and couldn’t resist throbbing against him. The otter felt it, purred, and dug in a little more firmly, drawing out another. “She – wants us with her tonight; I only came back to fetch you so we could go back, and…”

“Mmh?” It took visible effort for him to draw himself away. Lura lifted himself on his elbows, panting, and seemed to have to center himself to remember where he was. “Oh, then, you… should’ve mentioned that first. I would’ve waited…” Still trembling, he crawled up towards the reclining foxwolf and leaned in for a nuzzle and a kiss – and Markus nearly recoiled with the strength of Rhea’s musk centralized along Lura’s muzzle.

He had just as much difficulty pulling himself out of his bed as he had Rhea’s, though an easier time with getting dressed since now he just had to wait for that arousal to simmer back down a bit. Lura wobbled to his footpaws, stretched his arms over his head, yawned widely, shook himself out, and then went to fetch his own clothing – though Markus noticed him repeatedly sniffing at his paw or curling his lip up towards his nose as he did so.

Markus waited in the next room for Lura to finish getting ready, and while there he felt himself drawn to the mask and sword waiting on the dresser. He reached out for them, paused, drew his paw back… reached out again to run his fingerpads over the smooth surface of the steel, and then across the textured surface of the glass gems and fabric ornamentation. The mask clacked softly as he picked it up, then turned it over in his paws.

Who are you? he thought, turning it back so that it faced him again. Empty eyes stared back. Who were you supposed to be? And he lifted it up, held it an inch away from his muzzle… heard the soft tp-tp of toeclaws across the floor, and placed it back beside the blade.

Then he looked over towards Lura, dressed in simple nightclothes, a loose robe tucked about his waist. The sleepy otter smiled up at him; he returned the warmth on reflex. Markus held his paw out.

“Ready?”

Lura was a known fixture within the manor by now: those they passed in the halls offered him the same respect as they did Markus, knowing him both as another Lord as well as the foxwolf’s companion. Markus had managed to slip out from Rhea’s quarters without being seen, but knew that having Lura with him would make this more difficult: instead of follow the same path he had taken back, instead he directed the otter down the other hall at the nearby annex and went up the stairs there for the library, still and quiet at night, even more so than its regular hours.

Their footsteps tapped across the smooth floor, any echo stifled by the tomes lining the shelves. His first visit here, Markus had been amazed at the size and the variety, to his perspective nearly rivaling what his family had back in Oryon. Mercutio would love it here, he remembered thinking, and then: shame he won’t see it…

But then, his paw tightening around Lura’s as the two wove around the proper bookshelf, Markus’s ears perked. Or, I suppose he might. Mother might still have plans for him. But I’ll still have to speak with her, and while I’m not looking forward to that, I know it must be done, and… and the otter beside him sleepily stepped forward, untwining himself from his grasp, and brushed the tapestry aside. The panel behind it rested against the alcove wall at a slight angle from its last usage; as far as Markus knew, the five of them were the only to currently use it.

And I’ll have Lura with me. He smiled. Lura tugged at the wooden panel, peered inside the darkened passageway, and turned back towards Markus, paw reaching out again. So the foxwolf reached out, took it, felt himself hoisted up along the alcove, then the brush of the fabric on his shoulder, and the bump of the panel leaning back into place behind him… and for a moment he almost wished he had picked the mask back up.

Enter as Markus, and leave as… what? The Ghost of Oryon? Up here, in Leyo? Sounds like a joke. Creeping carefully along, free paw reaching out to follow the curvature of the passageway in the wall, he couldn’t help but smirk. Rhea would laugh. Oh, would she ever. And I would too, I think. The Ghost is still back home, where it belongs. Maybe someone else will take up the mantle… And this time when he smiled, it was with no small amount of amusement tingling at the corners of his mouth. Like in some storybook. I would value that, at least.

But I won’t miss it.

Lura turned back towards him at the other mouth of the passage, and for the moment Markus wanted to just watch him, the glitter in his mismatched eyes, the little smile decorating his muzzle… the expectation, the slight nervousness, the excitement. The foxwolf patted his rump to coax him forward, and then they were out in the hall again, and another few steps and a swift turn around the corner, and he had brought them back into Rhea’s quarters with the scent of the woods and rich soil and soft flowers… and as they approached the bedroom, the higher, sharper spice of the two of them, together, still soaking into the sheets and her fur.

She seemed to be asleep, the sheets stirring only with the rhythm of her breathing, her eyes closed, her mouth just barely open. Markus stepped forward, drew the door shut behind himself and Lura, then moved to undress again – and caught a whiff of both himself and the wolfess across Lura as he did so. Still the desire was there, constantly simmering, but drowsiness weighed down everything else, and he felt himself wobble slowly while waiting for Lura to do the same. Then, paws entwined, he pulled both of them forward across the mattress, and paused as Rhea stirred, turned her head, looked to one and then the other.

And she smiled. “There you are,” she purred, her voice a sleepy whisper. “I thought you’d fallen asleep…” She reached up for Markus, received a kiss from him, held a paw out for the same from Lura. The otter had to crawl across the bed a little bit to reach her, and then that paw held his muzzle to hers through their kiss, and even afterwards. Lura stumbled a bit, adjusted where he knelt on the bed, made a little noise. “Oh…” Rhea murmured, running her muzzle along his, nose twitching as she drew in the scent coating his fur. “I think I see what happened.”

“Sorry,” the otter chuckled, and returned the nuzzle. “I got a little, ah… distracted.”

“Lura. If you wanted, you could’ve just asked…”

He blinked, pursed his lips, glanced to Markus, and then looked back to her. “I’ll… remember that,” he managed, embarrassment swelling. He scooted back to make enough room for the foxwolf between them, some of that embarrassment clearly redirecting itself into a stirring arousal as he shifted beneath the covers.

Markus’s heart thumped, then, as he folded himself into place. Why am I nervous? he thought, settling in, feeling the way Rhea’s mattress differed slightly from his own, how her sheets were of a different quality… how everything smelled so strongly of her, as though he were always wrapped in her embrace, and then with himself too. Isn’t this right? Isn’t this what I want? Or is it more… I just can’t believe this is really happening?

The sheets shuffled in beneath his chin, and he rolled over onto his side and pressed himself up against the wolfess’s body, and draped his arm around her waist and felt his fingers brush through the soft, slightly matted fur there, over the pinpoint skin of one of her nipples… and then the familiar, firm heat of Lura sidling up behind him, the otter nuzzling into his neck, reaching across as well. Rhea shifted, hoisted the sheets up over her own arm, and reached down, this time to take Lura’s paw and draw him across her as well. She huffed softly, squirmed, and pressed herself back, wedging Markus in between both of them, where he had to turn his head and rest it over her neck to find the space to breathe.

And then one of his legs came up over hers with hers in between, and Lura worked one in as well, then shuffled and wedged another forward – and Markus smirked again at the knotted tangle between the three of them, close, tight, cozy, if a little uncomfortable.

He swallowed, drew in a breath tinted with Rhea and Lura’s scents, held it, sighed it back out… and nuzzled forward into her fur, where he could feel the warmth of her body and the beat of her heart. “Goodnight,” he murmured, and received it from each in turn. Then Markus shifted, wedged his hips back against Lura, drew Rhea closer in against him, felt a flutter of that nervousness again, and then, knowing that he needed to get it out:

“I love you.” He wiggled again, trying to nudge wolfess in front and otter behind. “Both of you.”

Rhea turned her muzzle a little bit, just enough to nose in against his own. “I love you, too,” she breathed, the words silent but still there; and Lura’s arm tightened across both of them so that he could lift up and pepper his jaw with little kisses. “And I love you too as well,” he murmured – and then leaned forward further to give Rhea one more. “Sleep well.”

~ ~ ~

Attn: Lord Makus Kalla ef Solm Maldeth

From: his mother, Her Grace the Right Honorable Countess Azura Kalla of Oryon

Dear son,

Your presence is requested back home at your earliest convenience. As usual I have enclosed a sum enough to properly pay the porters, as well as some extra to be spent at your discretion. Also enclosed is a separate missive for Lord Lura Oryon. Please see that he receives it and understands. The halls are emptier for both of your absences.

To quell any doubt, I have received Lord Thorn’s correspondence and I understand the situation. Know that you and I have much to discuss on your return.

Send Rhea my regards as well.