Waterways (21 page)

“That’s true.” Kory put a paw on the fox’s leg. “We don’t have to make a decision yet.”

The fox’s ears came all the way up at the ‘we’. “All right. Just keep it in mind. I think it would be okay.”

Kory nodded. “I will.” He looked up, smiled, and met the fox’s lips again.

Driving back in the car, the smells of fox replaced the river’s wet, wild aroma. Now that they were safe in the car, Kory regretted having stopped Samaki earlier. His arousal blurred the memory of why he’d been so upset, and here in the closed car, he was half-tempted to take the fox’s paw and put it in his lap. He shifted in his seat as he aroused himself further just thinking about it. Of course, Samaki was keeping both paws tightly on the wheel and seemed nervous about driving at night, so probably it wasn’t the best of ideas.

All the same, it was going to be hard not to do more than a few gropes this weekend. Ironic that at Samaki’s house, where his parents knew about their relationship and were happy with it, they had to sleep in separate rooms, while at Kory’s house, they could both stay in his room and fool around as much as they wanted. Maybe they shouldn’t have told Samaki’s parents, Kory thought, though he hadn’t been party to that decision, and he suspected they would have figured it out anyway. Samaki wasn’t the sort to keep things secret.

They did have a few minutes alone in the basement, where Mrs. Roden had set up a bed on the couch for Kory. There, when Samaki slid a paw into his pants, Kory returned the grope, glad to feel the fox’s matching arousal against his paw for the first time in a week. He couldn’t give it his full attention, but it was still better than nothing. Too soon, his ears caught Mrs. Roden on her way down the stairs to announce bedtime, giving them time to extract their paws and assume a reasonably innocent position.

Once, Samaki had snuck down early in the morning, but they’d been faced with the problem that the only bathroom in the house was on the upper floor, making it difficult to clean up. Logistical issues like this were part of the reason Samaki stayed at Kory’s house more often than the other way around. Which would only last, Kory reflected as he drifted off to sleep, as long as his mother remained ignorant of their relationship. Just another year, he told himself. Then off to college. That brought back his worries about rooming together. Should he say something to Samaki? No, the fox would be disappointed in him. He was right; the fact that they were together should be more important than anything else. But Malaya’s view of the world seemed closer to his experience than Samaki’s, and that thought made him toss and turn until he finally fell asleep, nose pressed into the fox-scented fabric of the couch.

At the Rainbow Center the next morning, Margo greeted them with a grim expression. “Jeremy’s mother was here yesterday with her sister. She wants to take him to this religious camp that tries to make kids straight. I don’t know how she found out where we are. She went from pleading to threatening to screaming to crying. We didn’t let her in, or let Jeremy talk to her, but he’s been crying all night. Samaki, can you go sit with him? Kory, can you just help me keep an eye on the others?”

As the black fox hurried up the stairs, Kory looked around, the previous evenings worries still lingering. “Is Malaya around?”

“I haven’t seen her yet. If you like, you can go up to her room and call her down.” The black squirrel wrung her paws. “I’ve got to get food ready for the boys, and I hope Samaki can calm down Jeremy.”

“If anyone can, he can,” Kory said.

“Of course.” The assurance didn’t seem to help Margo too much, but she did lower her paws to her sides before rushing to the kitchen.

He’d been up to Malaya’s room only once. The boys all roomed together and came tumbling down the stairs together when it was breakfast-time, but as the only girl, and, what’s more, the only bat, Malaya had a small room to herself up on the third floor. Kory passed the boys’ room, where he heard Samaki’s soothing tones and smiled. One more flight up brought him to Malaya’s door.

Nobody answered when he knocked. She wasn’t in the bathroom; he’d glanced in on the way up. He knocked again and tried the knob. The unlocked door swung open.

Malaya kept her room neat and tidy. Toward the ceiling, he saw the bar she hung from to sleep. Below that, books were piled neatly next to the overstuffed, decrepit chair. Chilly morning air played over Kory’s fur from the open window on the other side of the room, the sickly maple tree swaying gently in the breeze.

He walked in and saw a piece of paper on the chair. The handwriting, though he’d never seen Malaya’s, was exactly what he would have expected of her: sharp, angular, and precise.
“I’m going home. I can’t stand the delusions any more. The lies have been exposed for what they are tonight. Good luck to all of you. You’ll need it.”

It felt like a joke to him at first, that she would come strolling languidly out from behind the door, take the note from his paws, and crumple it with a wry grin, saying, “You don’t really think I’d do that, do you?” But no matter how hard he looked around, the room was empty and even Malaya’s scent was weak. He wondered how long she’d been gone.

Margo was distraught enough about Jeremy that he didn’t want to give her the note right away, but it was too depressing to wait in the empty room, so he wandered downstairs to the basement, where the aquatic room was vacant, as it often was. Kory sat on the rubber drying mat and dangled his bare feet in the two-foot-deep pool, letting the feel of the water relax him as he read Malaya’s note over again.

What he wanted to do was go find her and tell her that whatever she thought she needed, going back to a violent homophobe wasn’t it. He kept hearing her voice as she told him, “I think he might have killed her,” and though he told himself it was likely childish exaggeration, that didn’t drive away the worry. He knew that the familiarity and comfort of home seemed better to her than not knowing what would come next, where she would go from here, but had she forgotten the reason she’d run away in the first place? Maybe she hadn’t. Her note contained no indication of it, but he could see her thinking that unhappiness was her fate. More than anything, he wanted to tell her that was wrong.

She’d thought that he was more of a “clear” thinker than the others, which in her mind was someone as pessimistic as she was. When it came down to it, though, he wanted to believe that people were destined to be happy. That might not be as easy as Margo and perhaps Samaki thought, but he thought it was possible and worth fighting for.

He set her note aside and closed his eyes, moving his webbed paws through the water and enjoying the eddies it generated, letting his thoughts swirl similarly around Malaya, colleges, and Samaki’s school prom. It didn’t help him reach any conclusions, but at least he found it pleasantly relaxing. Time drifted as languidly as the water, until he heard the door open and caught a familiar musky scent.

“Hi,” Samaki said, stepping around the pool. “Thought you might be down here. Where’s Malaya?”

Kory reached down beside him and handed the note to the fox. Samaki read it, and sighed. “She really seems determined not to be happy.”

“I wish there were something I could do for her,” Kory said.

“I’ll see if Margo has an address. Maybe we could send her a letter.” Samaki sat next to him and dipped his paws in the water. “I don’t want to bother Margo now, though. She’s stressed enough about Jeremy.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Sleeping, finally. She told me to hang out with you and Malaya for half an hour or so while she tries to get things organized for breakfast.”

“We should tell her Malaya’s gone.” Kory sighed, and leaned against the fox. “Great day we’re having, isn’t it?”

Samaki slipped an arm around him and squeezed. “There’ll be bad days and good days. Last year we had three of the kids get into a fight and two had to go to the hospital. That day pretty much sucked.”

Kory nodded. “This feels… worse, somehow. Like everyone’s giving up.”

The fox nuzzled him gently. “We’re not giving up.”

And that just reminded Kory of last night. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?” Samaki’s usual light amusement covered his concern only thinly.

“Last night. Stopping you and… I guess I just wasn’t ready to be doing it out in public.” He was apologizing, but also trying to convey how outrageous it still felt to him. Sort of “I’m sorry I’m not as crazy as you,” but nicer, aware that he couldn’t just come out and say, “you lunatic,” like he would if Sal did something nuts.

“Is it something you want to talk about?” Samaki squeezed his paw.

It was, but the problem was that of all the issues Kory was worrying about, the whole public display of their relationship was precisely the one it was hardest to talk to Samaki about, because the black fox was squarely in the center of it. So he just shook his head, repeated, “Sorry,” and hoped Samaki wouldn’t press.

He didn’t. “It’s my fault. I should’ve warned you. That’s really a pretty secluded spot, and you can hear anyone coming with plenty of warning. Plus the river covers up most of the scents. Most.” He wrinkled his nose.

“I didn’t smell anything,” Kory said, and reached up to brush one of the fox’s large triangular ears. “And I can’t catch every little sound like you can.”

“Nah, but you can swim,” Samaki said. “I figured if someone came along, you could just dive into the river and get away.”

Kory drew in breath to retort, and then saw the twitching of the fox’s tail, and grinned. “Oh, you did? Maybe I’d just drag you in with me.”

“Oh no no,” Samaki play-protested. “I know what happens to foxes who get dragged into water by otters.”

Kory leaned closer to him. “Oh? What’s that?”

“Oh, all sorts of things. They get those otter paws all over them in all kinds of private places.”

“Do tell.” He slid his paw up Samaki’s leg. “You’re in the water now, you know.”

The fox glanced down at his feet and kicked up a splash. “Oh, dear.” He turned to Kory and grinned. “You know, that door locks.”

Kory’s already excited sheath surged with warmth. “Does it?” He rested his paw between the fox’s legs, lightly, but even so, he could feel the other’s arousal, matching his.

“Uh-huh.” Samaki’s tail swished back against him. “Doesn’t lock by itself, though.”

The fox’s violet eyes sparkled. Kory pressed with his paw and got up, suddenly worried that Margo would come to fetch them before he could lock the door. But he made it to the bolt and threw it, testing the door to be sure before running back around the pool.

Samaki was reclining back on his elbows, feet still dangling in the pool. Kory knelt beside him and reached around to bury his paw in the black fur at the back of the fox’s head, leaning down for a warm kiss. As their tongues met, he returned his right paw to the fox’s sheath, now warmer and harder than before, and rubbed through the cotton fabric.

His muzzle vibrated with the fox’s soft moans. He opened his eyes so he could see the restless twitching of the long black tail. The sight sent the usual stirrings of delight through his chest at being able to make this wonderful person’s happiness match his. He kept his muzzle close to Samaki’s as he unfastened the pants with practiced ease and gently worked his paw inside, along the white patch of fur and the warm thickness in the middle of it.

Samaki made no move towards Kory’s pants, and Kory didn’t expect any, after a little while. Sometimes it was like this: one, then the other, rather than both together. Sure, it was nice to have Samaki’s paw on him while he was stroking the fox, but it was nice to be kissing Samaki, his paw moving up and down and being able to focus on the reactions in the slender black form below him. He liked that feeling, that he was doing something nice for Samaki.

The fox was at least as worked up as Kory was. He reached around and hugged Kory with one arm, leaving the other behind him to support his torso, and it wasn’t too long before he was making muffled moans and throaty yips at Kory’s strokes. When he shuddered and tensed, Kory grinned happily and stroked faster, and was rewarded with a warm splash over his paw and a series of gasps, a tightened arm around his chest. Closed eyes opened as Samaki drew his muzzle back and smiled, panting.

“Mmm,” he sighed, looking down at his shirt. He’d tugged it out of the way just in time, so only his black belly fur had gotten spattered. “Have to find something to clean up with.”

In the corner by the sleeping mat, Kory spotted a worn brush and a pile of handkerchiefs. He chuckled and licked the fox’s nose. “It looks like we’ve been painting again. Just stay here a second.”

Dipped in the water, the handkerchief did a serviceable job cleaning up the mess. When Samaki’d done up his pants, he pushed Kory over onto his back and said, “Now it’s your turn, you naughty otter.”

Kory was only slightly surprised to see the fox’s muzzle dip towards his pants. Samaki had taken him that way only twice, partly because he was worried about his teeth, and partly, Kory suspected, because Samaki didn’t want Kory to feel bad about not using his muzzle himself. He didn’t, really. Samaki had told him that he didn’t want to pressure him into doing things he wasn’t comfortable with, and for all the things Kory did feel ashamed of or guilty about, he’d accepted that he and Samaki were at different comfort levels, and that in time, he’d reach a point where he was willing to take the fox into his muzzle.

He definitely felt closer today, as he watched Samaki’s long black muzzle bob up and down. It felt so good, the press of his tongue, the slide of his lips, that Kory wanted to let Samaki feel the same thing. And he wondered, what would it feel like in his mouth, the long, hard shape of it against his tongue, through his lips? That he didn’t mind so much. It was more the idea of the fox coming, that musky liquid bursting in all in a rush, that worried him. What if he coughed and spit it out? What if he choked?

He abandoned that line of thinking as the sensations built up, his muscles quivering as they tingled. His left foot, dangling in the water, kicked to release the nervous energy he felt building up. Samaki’s paw caressed his side, up under his shirt, the smooth brush of fingers overloading his brain even further. He heard himself making small cries and felt the material of the drying mat bunch under his clenched fingers. Samaki brought his other paw up under Kory’s sac, holding it and squeezing the base of the otter’s hardness, and that was enough to send him over the edge.