Description: Sexual tension between Colin and his butler Hillary

Rating: R

By Micahfennec 12-03           

            Colin was depressed. Again.

            Hillary sighed as he poured a cup of tea in the mansion’s spacious kitchen. In addition to being the 28-year-old fox’s butler, Hillary was Colin’s confidante, caretaker, and more or less his only friend. The two of them had grown up together – Hillary was 30, only two years older than his master. Hillary’s family, the Whitburys, had served Colin’s family, the Valmonts, for at least two generations now. Hillary’s father, Hillary Sr., had been the Valmonts’ butler back in England where Colin had grown up. Hillary took over for his ailing father at a rather young age when the Valmonts decided to move to America.

            Then Colin’s parents died in a car accident and the young fox – the last living Valmont – abandoned his schooling and virtually locked himself up in the sprawling Beverly Hills mansion that he’d suddenly found himself owning. If not for Hillary, the fox probably would have wasted away in his own bedroom. That was nearly five years ago, and Colin was still a neurotic mess.

            Hillary brought the cup of tea to one of the mansion’s wood-paneled studies, where Colin sat sullenly in a lush dark green arm chair.

            “Your tea,” Hillary said cheerfully, holding the cup out for the fox.

            “Thanks, Hilly,” Colin mumbled, using his childhood nickname for the husky. Hillary tilted his head, detecting a slight quavering in the fox’s low voice, and set the cup down on the desk. “All right, then?”

            Colin looked up at the husky with glassy dark brown eyes and sniffled. “No. I feel absolutely miserable.”

            “Maybe if you joined a social organization…went out to dinner with a group of people, went back to school—“

            Colin shook his head violently. “You always say that.”

            “And you never listen,” Hillary retorted, his hands clasped behind his back. “I’m only trying to help.”

            Colin sniffed and reached for the tea. It really was a shame, Hillary thought. The fox was handsome and intelligent, and could be a very interesting conversationalist when he wasn’t in one of his moods. He’d had a passion for everything historical, had been planning on earning a Ph.D. in British history, had just started work on his Master’s degree after moving to California. Then his parents had died, and so had his passion for…anything.

            “You know I don’t…don’t feel comfortable around other people,” Colin murmured, sipping sullenly at his tea.

            Hillary rolled his eyes – Colin could be more stubborn than a spoiled teenager.

            The fox rose to his feet and approached Hillary. Colin was tall for a red fox, just a shade under Hillary’s height of five-foot-eleven. “You’re the only one I can talk to, Hilly,” he said, and he met the husky’s hazel eyes with his own before averting his gaze to the deep green rug on the wooden floor. Hillary stood still for a moment, startled by the desperation in Colin’s eyes. Desperation and…something else.

            “It’s late,” he said at last, gently placing a white-furred paw on Colin’s shoulder. “I’m going to bed, and I suggest you do too. Perhaps you’ll feel better in the morning.” He heard the fox throw himself back into the chair as he walked out of the study, his toeclaws clicking on the floor.

            Although he could claim virtually any bedroom in the mansion, Hillary had decided to keep the small, cozy room upstairs that the Valmonts had designated for him upon moving in to the place. He undressed, carefully hanging up his suit, vest, tie, and white dress-shirt, pulled a striped blue robe and plaid flannel pajama bottoms over his underwear, turned off the lamp, and lit the candle on his nightstand. The single flame cast a warm glow over the bed as he lay in it with a book, his shoulders propped up by a pile of pillows against the headboard.

            He’d barely read twenty pages in Snow in August when a timid knock on his door made his pointed ears perk up. “Come in, Colin,” he sighed, closing the book and laying it on the nightstand.

            The fox nudged the door open a crack and slipped in. He was wearing rumpled white pajama bottoms and a matching button-up top, and was squinting as his eyes adjusted to the soft yellow glow of the candle.

            Hillary gazed at the fox with concern. “Everything all right?”

            Colin padded across the room wordlessly and climbed into the bed next to the husky. Hillary put his arm around the fox’s shoulders, trying to hide his surprise – the two hadn’t cuddled like this since their childhood. Not even at the news of the Valmonts’ death – Colin had simply run upstairs, locked himself in his room, and smashed everything that could be broken, gasping out sobs that the stricken husky could hear downstairs where he stood stiffly, eyes watering, trying not to drop the tray with tea and scones that he’d prepared for the visitors before hearing their tragic news.

            Hillary had to admit that he felt a bit awkward. Cuddling as pups was one thing – but he and Colin were adults, and snuggling in bed seemed rather improper. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

            “Uh…Colin? All right there?”

            “Hilly,” Colin murmured, curling up against the husky.

            Hillary swallowed, very aware of the warmth of the fox pressed against him. Colin was acting very much out of character – he was normally shy and awkward, even aloof, especially when it came to physical contact. Even before the death of his parents and his sudden reclusiveness, he’d had pitiable luck with the opposite sex. Hillary had long ago begun to suspect that the fox was gay, but the one time he’d brought the topic up, Colin had become so upset that he didn’t dare mention it again.

            “Hilly…you like me, right?”

            The husky blinked, surprised. “Yes, Colin, of course.”

            In response, the fox wrapped his arms around the husky and squeezed, his muzzle buried in the crook of Hillary’s neck.

            “Uh…Colin…what are you doing?”

            “I love you, Hilly.” The fox snuggled against the husky.

            Hillary swallowed again, utterly at a loss as to what to do. Colin seemed to have taken leave of his senses. “I love you too,” he said, talking to the fox as though he were a young kit. “Now come along, back to bed with you.” The husky started to sit up, but Colin squeezed him as though holding on for dear life.

            “Please…please let me stay here with you, tonight? Please?”

            Something in the fox’s voice froze the rejection on Hillary’s tongue. Colin sounded so pleading, so desperate…

            “Oh – all right. I suppose you can sleep here tonight.”

            “Thank you…”

            Hillary could feel Colin’s breath against the fur on his neck. The musky scent of the fox, his body heat, the feel of someone so close…it all made the husky’s fur stand on end. It had been a long time since Hillary had been physically intimate with someone – his job wasn’t exactly conducive to meeting single members of the opposite sex – and he couldn’t deny that Colin’s presence felt rather nice, even though he was a male, let alone nearly a brother to the husky.

            The fox’s paw found its way under the collar of Hillary’s pajamas. The husky’s fur was coarse compared to Colin’s silky fox-pelt, but was just as thick. Colin’s claws sank deep into the dense white fur on Hillary’s chest and grazed the skin underneath, sending an involuntary shudder through the canine. He closed his eyes, on the verge of telling Colin to stop, this was absolutely wrong – but once again the words died in his throat. Colin’s fingertips found one of the nipples hidden deep under his fur. Hillary gulped audibly. This…was…so…wrong.

            The fox’s fine-featured face filled Hillary’s field of vision, the dim light in the room exaggerating the contrast between the red and white fur on Colin’s muzzle and cheeks. The fox’s cat-like pupils had fully dilated, making his eyes appear black. His breath was hot on Hillary’s muzzle. His paw slid down underneath the husky’s shirt, toward his stomach. Hillary bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. He felt a twinge in his groin – his body was betraying him. And then Colin’s questing fingers slipped under the waistband of Hillary’s pajama bottoms and the husky let out a yelp.

            He tried again to tell the fox to stop – but it felt so good. He hadn’t been touched this way in a long time.

            Colin was on top of him now, pinning Hillary to the mattress, his sharp nose hovering over the husky’s broader, blunter muzzle. The fox moved closer until their lips brushed and Hillary passively allowed the tentative kiss. Encouraged, Colin pushed more insistently, thrusting his tongue into Hillary’s slightly opened mouth. The husky couldn’t help himself – he bucked his hips up against the fox’s warm body. His heart raced and he felt lightheaded – he was breathing so heavily he was practically panting.

            Colin ran his fingers tenderly through the short and rather wavy, nearly curly, locks between the husky’s ears. Hillary’s hair was a warm brown, almost the same shade as the dark markings on his fur, but with barely noticeable hints of grey at his temples. He started at the fox above him, his expressive hazel eyes wide, as Colin traced the dark brown “tearlines” under his eyes. The fox’s hands caressed the broad tufts of fur framing Hillary’s cheeks and then moved down – it took the dazed husky a moment to realize that the fox was unbuttoning his nightshirt.

            The thick fur on Hillary’s torso was mostly white, with the rich, chocolatey brown that covered his back creeping down his sides, shoulders, and the outsides of his upper arms. Two streaks of brown followed his collarbone, coming close but not quite meeting in the middle of his broad chest. Underneath this dense coat of fur, the husky was almost solid muscle, thanks to the time that he set aside nearly every day to dabble in kendo and various other martial arts. He needed to do something other than cooking, cleaning, and taking care of Colin, or he would go mad.

            Hillary’s pajama bottoms and boxers soon disappeared, and he suddenly became painfully aware that he was lying on his back, stark naked, with another male – with his master, his charge, his lifelong friend – with Colin – leaning over him. He sat up in alarm, his ears flattened and his tail curling up between his legs and reflexively covering his groin. His chest heaved as he gulped heavy breaths of air that tasted like sweat and musk.

            Colin drew back and averted his gaze, his black-tipped ears drooping. “Oh my god…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Hillary. I don’t know what came over me.” The fox leaped off the bed and disappeared out the door, leaving the stunned canine sitting in his bed, nude.

            Hillary stayed like that until his heart stopped racing, until his shoulders stopped rising and falling with every breath. The candle on his nightstand flickered wildly, on the verge of burning out.

To be continued…?