Sabbatical

Illusions of Velvet

As York laughed and rubbed the towel insistently at a stubborn spot on one of Samael's jaw studs, the redneck was reminded of how blessed he was.

He wasn't stupid enough to listen to the voice that told him York was only doing this out of a regretful obligation, that York was forcing himself through the motions because he felt like he had to as Samael's friend. He knew York might have been apprehensive, but that he was enjoying himself all the same. That the passion and pleasure and participation were all voluntary, that his smiles were all genuine. He was Samael's best friend and Samael was his kin, separated at birth by several years and several hundred kilometers but bonded just as tightly as any official document might declare.

Didn't change the fact that Samael was goddamn lucky as he gazed into the warm, affectionate vermilion eyes that held him as securely as the massive limb around his waist.

This should have been a rejection, the request that finally went too far. The moment Samael at last found the line York refused to cross. Sure, they hadn't yet gotten to any real tests of trust and allowance...but York wasn't blind. He knew exactly where these tracks led, no matter how hazy the horizon. And here he was, smiling and joking and helping clean Samael's overabundant joy from them both like he was just toweling them off after a friendly swim.

This went beyond the duties of friendship, or even best-friendship. This was the stuff that defined a link forged from metal more resilient than steel, tempered in a fire fiercer than anything that could be conjured on the mortal realm.

Whether it was fortune or fate that had brought them together, though, the two puppies were inseparable now. Sirca have mercy on their boyfriends.

York must have sensed some of Samael's soulful ruminations as he tilted his head and set the towel aside while unceremoniously flopping onto his back and pulling his companion with him. "What's up, pal? Don't tell me that was your grand finale -- all that big talk about your ruff."

Samael blinked as they thumped into the mattress, then grinning lopsidedly down at York while curling comfortably onto his chest. "Heh. Ain't that lucky, hon." He eased it back to a smile while raising a finger. "But I am a li'l disappointed in myself fer not at least gettin' yer pants off durin' that last round."

It was a gentle redirection that he knew wouldn't completely fool York. "I know the difference between your 'deep thoughts about life' face and 'deep thoughts about York's dick' face, Sammy." But he gave his own smile and tipped a wink up to his companion. "Besides, I was still a little sore." He poked his tongue out impishly through his front teeth. "Would it make ya feel better if I took 'em off anyway?"

"Uh, yeah," Samael retorted around a predatory grin. He paused, then shuffled backward with a chuckle to disembark York and hop off the bed. He didn't miss the momentary pout from his friend -- god, the two of them really were doomed to be eternally bound -- and he raised a hand. "Don't worry, jus' gonna flip the record 'n grab a couple more li'l treats..."

York blinked as he sat up, glancing over to the record player emitting a soft stream of static. "Lord, hadn't even noticed it stop."

"That's 'cuz you was busy givin' Sirca's best handjob," Samael supplied, moving the needle aside and turning the vinyl disc over, then setting the arm back into place so the warm brassy tunes could continue.

"Damn right I was," York mumbled while wiggling up to a kneel and working at his belt. Samael's attention shot back to him from the table decked out with the bounty he'd brought along, his eyes immediately half-lidding.

"Hhnngh..." York blinked again and peered over at him before blanching at the sight of his hungry stare. "Don't be cruel, hon...nice 'n slow."

York's muzzle shifted into a goofy grin. It was obvious he wasn't normally on this end of the striptease...but he also wasn't a beginner, considering the coy smirk and the way his hips cocked smoothly to one side in time with a lazy flick of his tail. "Didn't they ever teach you please and thank you out in Sampi?" York asked playfully while he took his time unbuckling the belt and letting it slide slowly through the loops of his dark-green shorts. "No wonder Nelson doesn't want you coming out here -- the lack of manners makes all of Sidewinder look bad..."

Samael's grin would have cut cold butter as he rested a palm on the table and drank in the sight of York's muscular arms moving leisurely to inch the top of his shorts downward. "They ain't invented manners good enough fer a show like this," Samael breathed, his ruff crying out for more as his fingers curled around another jar of moonshine. "Jus' be a buncha words ain't worthy of the gift they's tryna bless..."

As talented as Samael was, as smooth were his actions, as silver his tongue...it was still a rare treasure to see York honestly flustered. He savored every moment of it, watching raptly as York fought the flush beneath his still-damp fur. He didn't mind if his own aching arousal began to announce itself -- it was worth the mixture of confidence and chagrin he saw reflected in his friend's body language.

York found his stride after a moment or two, however, puffing out his cheeks stubbornly and lifting his head proudly as he maintained the steady push of his pants across his thighs. Samael grinned in approval as York's nude form inched free, the smaller male's tongue dancing along the end of his muzzle while his tail slowly flicked from side to side. York twitched at each light jingle, but he managed to smirk and keep himself composed enough to shift to one knee so he could lift a leg free of the shorts, and then the other side.

He held up the discarded garment with one finger while offering his own smug grin at Samael's rising approval. "I guess I'll take your standing ovation in lieu of actual words -- I know literacy is still a struggle for you."

"Maybe that's only 'cause the only books you keep readin' to me are the ones with the big purdy pictures," Samael shot back.

York laughed and tossed his shorts across the room, landing them squarely on Samael's head. "Hey! I'll have you know that Bobby's First Battle is a classic literary masterpiece!"

Samael giggled around the garment, lifting the moonshine blindly in a mock salute. "Plus it's got a puppy."

"Plus it's got a puppy!" York echoed.

Another snicker of entertainment as Samael shook his head gently to drop York's shorts near his own, then scooping up a couple of empty plastic cups and a clear container packed with a variety of dried fungi. "All jokin' aside -- dunno if I ever did thank you proper fer all the time you spend tryna make this dumbass redneck a li'l less dumb..."

His smile didn't waver, but he could tell York wasn't blind to the small droop of his mood. Samael didn't often linger on the things he couldn't help, and he sure as hell couldn't do much about the fact he'd been born kinda stupid, raised out in the middle of nowhere, and then plucked from his home to join the resistance when most kids were still attending the last years of primary school.

But sometimes he was reminded rather harshly that he was lacking in areas that were second-nature to the average chupa. Often his illiteracy went unnoticed -- he was a fine speaker, even if his vocabulary had obvious gaps, thanks to the emphasis of oral traditions in his culture. As long as he didn't have to read something aloud, he was pretty good at faking it.

There were other moments, though, times when someone would say something that was common knowledge, or something that required basic critical thinking and Samael simply didn't follow or didn't understand. Those were the times the awkward, uncomfortable stares began. Nelson was usually there to cover for him, to brashly call attention to a different subject, or loudly mock something else of Samael's that wasn't as indicative of his lacking intelligence...or true age.

When he was on his own, however, it was up to him to try and make a joke or put the spotlight somewhere else. He was usually successful, but not always. Not when York had been the one to gently pry into the truth and learn that Samael barely knew how to read.

Maybe it was because they were already such close friends, maybe it was because York himself had no qualms about not being the brightest bulb in the room; the lessons with him went better than they did with anyone else. Nelson did her best at the beginning, and CT had also pitched in once she'd (rather quickly) realized Samael's deficits for herself. But those quiet periods spent curled up with York, reading from children's books and porno mags alike, were the ones that Samael always came away from feeling a little less stupid, like there really was hope for him to patch up some of the glaring holes in his foundation.

York again reminded him of the kind of bond they shared -- here he was, easily one of the most attractive guys in all of the resistance, kneeling naked in front of Samael...and all Samael saw was his tenderness. The way the corners of his mouth turned down in mild apprehension, the way his eyes swept over Samael not with lust or anticipation, but real concern. It was the kind of friendship most would never be fortunate enough to hold onto for themselves.

"Aw, Sammy...you're not dumb," York murmured. "No more dumb than me."

"Hate to break it to ya, hon, but we're both kinda dumb," Samael replied with a half-smile. "Otherwise our fellas -- an' Nelson -- wouldn't yell at us 'bout it so often." He shifted his weight, then clutched the supplies close and approached his friend, his eyes locked with York's own rather than any of the rather enticing sights lower down. "Y'know what I mean, though. It...it ain't s'posed to be yer job teachin' some smooth-brained country boy how to read 'n shit. Hell, it ain't even s'posed to be Mama's job, an' I call her Mama." He found a broader smile. "I appreciate it."

"You silly, stupid redneck," York chided gently, smiling back and reaching out a hand to accept the jar of liquor so Samael could crawl onto the bed with the other items clutched to his chest. "It's my pleasure, honestly. It's the least I can do, and you've come a long way. Besides." York smirked. "It's not like you don't thank me plenty after every lesson -- and I don't even mean with the amazing blowjobs and butt-sex." He cast a curious eye at the plastic container, then lifted his gaze back to his companion. "And of course it's not our job." Samael winced but York was quick to lean forward and prod a finger into the end of his muzzle. "We do it because that's what friends do. That's what family does." He grinned again as Samael ducked his head with a sheepish expression. "Now before you start getting all erectified by incest fantasies...you wanna tell me what the hell it is you got in that box?"

Samael's smile widened even further as his optimism began to flow back into him. "Oh, man, hon. I hope you's still ridin' the wave from them brownies, 'cause this next trip's a real doozy startin' from zero."

"Oh boy," York mumbled, some of his earlier anxiety trickling back into his expression. "Good news is I'm definitely still high. The bad news is I'm starting to be less scared of your ruff and more afraid of your apparent new career as a bat-drug dealer."

"Oh, I ain't dealin' nothin'," Samael declared as he pried open the container and then dumped a handful of its contents into each of the two cups. "I'm a bat-drug enjoyer! 'S an important distinction!"

"I...I don't know if that's as reassuring as you think it is," York stammered, though he didn't hesitate to hand over the moonshine when Samael gestured for it. Samael also didn't miss the way he watched with fascination as a measure of the liquor was poured atop the dried mixture in each cup. The unspoken promise of trust between them had never been stronger, and Samael felt indebted. It was one of those things he would never take for granted in his friendship with York, because he knew it was a scarcity in a world like theirs. And to know that trust extended beyond a mission, beyond just keeping secrets...it meant the ring to Samael.

"Let this sit a few minutes, get it all nice 'n mushy," he instructed while nodding, then letting his tongue loll out teasingly. "I ain't gonna let you go nowhere you don't wanna go." Samael tossed out a half-smile as he added: "At least not 'til this ruff kicks up again."

He winked as York leaned back slightly, even though a hesitant grin sneaked into place. "Yeah, real comforting, pal," York grumbled before perking despite all his equivocation when Samael offered one of the plastic cups. "You're lucky this is such a good trip."

"And that ya secretly can't wait to do excitin' new drugs with yer redneck puppy-pal?" Samael asked playfully, bouncing his eyebrows a couple times.

York's grin wasn't hesitant anymore. "Hey. Shut up," he retorted as his shoulders wiggled a bit while he peered into the shimmering moonshine. "Ooh. So these are mushrooms? And I'm guessing not the kind you put on a pizza."

"I mean, you could put 'em on a pizza," Samael posited while tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Shit, that's...actually a purdy good idea!" He flashed a grin as York giggled and returned it with gusto. "We gotta remember that one!"

"Hell yeah! Best pizza party in the whole underground!! I'll just tell Wash, uh. After he's already had a slice."

Samael nodded furtively. "Yeah, 's a good idea! That way he'll already be happily trippin' along!"

"Yeaaaaah, exactly," York grunted, sniffing at the concoction. Samael watched him with a curious smile -- he knew his consciousness wasn't as lofty as his friend's, thanks to his stupidly high alcoholic tolerance...and also the fact that Andee and his friends hadn't exactly been gentle with Samael once they'd introduced him to Xulod's famous narcotics. But the heat of his ruff and the lingering pleasantness of the brownies weren't making him impatient, either. He didn't mind waiting.

"Smells...sweeter than I thought it would," York commented, swirling the cup slowly as he snuffled at the rim.

"That'd be the gleam-reed these was smoked with," Samael replied, his grin pushing deep into his cheeks. "A li'l combination some'a Andee's friends cooked up...shit's purdy intense."

Whatever reluctance had seemed to fade from York as he sat up straight and smiled brightly across at Samael. "I. Am. Ready."

"Good," Samael rumbled before glancing down and sticking a claw into the moonshine to poke at the no-longer-shriveled mushrooms. "Jus' a couple more minutes." He lifted his eyes to York again, though it was silly to pretend his gaze didn't trace from his friend's exposed crotch all the way up the attractive and winding path of his torso until meeting York's face. York didn't seem to mind, either, considering his wolfish grin. "C'mon, yer turn while we wait. What's somethin' you want from yer li'l pine cone that you ain't been able to get yet?"

York huffed at the sudden inquisition, the red plastic cup swallowed between the two enormous hands he wrapped around it. "Hey. We're supposed to talk about you, Sammy."

Samael added another blessing for York's existence to the towering pile and scooted across the bed so he could plop down directly in front of his friend as they both crossed their legs childishly. "I promise I'll go after."

York pursed his lips and appraised him for a few seconds before grunting his approval while simultaneously shrinking his shoulders. A shy expression teased his confident features. "I uh. Actually, what...what you're doing now." Samael blinked and tipped his head slightly as York met his eyes with a faint smile. "I want Wash to come to me for, ah. For his ruff."

Samael knew it wasn't a joke, though he gave a gentle laugh. "Ain't he done that back when...back when the whole thing 'tween you two started?"

York apparently knew what he meant despite his dumb redneck words. "What happened in those caves in Sampi, that...that was just coincidence," York murmured. He smiled, though, and Samael drank in the fondness shining from York's expressive gaze. "Not that I'm complaining. Even if we -- he -- coulda died in that cave, it was. It was nice." York couldn't avoid cracking a small grin while rolling his eyes innocently. "And the follow-up in the boat was amazing, too. Probably the only reason I'm not even more scared of uh. Of...you."

It wasn't the right moment to tell York that a bit of fear for Samael was a good thing, and so Samael only beamed happily in return. "Aw yeah, I ain't even had to do nothin' to help, he was all over you then, wasn't he?"

York nodded once but bit his lip while gazing down into the odd cocktail in his hands. "I know he's been in the ruff again since then, though. And. I know he went to Tex again, too. I just wish he'd come to me...intentionally."

Samael's heart sank in time with York's. He reached out with one hand to close his fingers around York's wrist. "Sorry, big guy."

York drew in a deep breath and set his shoulders squarely again, even as he smiled in appreciation. "It's okay. We talked about how it would take time. And. And I get it. And it's silly, you'd think I'd want something more serious, but...."

"Naw, it ain't silly," Samael murmured, squeezing his wrist with reassurance. "Y'all got yer crazy, mixed-up emotions to deal with, those are their own thing. But him comin' to you for somethin' physical...I know it'd mean more'n just sex."

"Yeah. It would," York replied softly.

Samael nodded and then lifted the cup with a smile. "Should be ready fer ignition." He moved it toward his lips, only for York to huff softly and reverse the grip on his wrist.

"Uh-uh! Nice try, Sammy, but I'm not about to get launched into orbit before you answer, too," York scolded while meeting his eyes.

Samael couldn't be mad if he tried.

He laughed quietly and bowed his head in acquiescence while lowering the cup. "You got me, you got me." He dropped his gaze and his smile grew weak as he rubbed his thumb around the rim of his drink. "Mine's even sillier'n yers. 'N probably more impossible." He appreciated York not scoffing. "I jus' wanna hear him say it." His body drooped even if he tried to avoid showing it. "Just once."

York clucked gently in sympathy, his hand sliding up to grasp into Samael's bicep. "Aw, Sammy. I'm sure he means it. I'm sure he feels it. Just because he doesn't say the words--"

"I know," Samael mumbled as he drew in a long, shaky breath. "I know words is just...words. Andee lies, I lie, we all lie. 'S part of our lives at this point, we. We make shit up all the time, it's how we stay alive. But a man's word...that's sacred. Ain't like talkin', talkin's just what you do with anyone, flappin' yer gums 'n shootin' the shit. When you speak, though, 's different. Two people speak, that shit goes to the soul." He stared at York's fingers wrapped around his arm.

"Well...just because he hasn't said it..." York began, trailing off for a moment when Samael's eyes stayed down. "He...he has to care. You said so yourself, he came back for you, he's let you in and let you closer than anyone else."

York wasn't wrong.

"I...I think he do care," Samael replied after a few seconds. "I don't think carin' is the problem. I know he ain't completely heartless, he cares 'bout his friends, he cares 'bout me. But he also cares 'bout himself, an' his business. Whatever it takes to get what he wants." He chewed on the inside of his cheek before his eyes at last met York's again. "I jus'...wanna be more than a...a tool, a weapon. More'n just an asset."

"Hey...like you tell me, Li'l Pup." They gazed at each other, riding the waves of the gentle inebriation to see further into their souls than usual. "Keep being there. Neither of our crazy boyfriends have kicked us to the curb yet, right?"

The kind smile York gave reminded Samael why he was here. The powerful odor of their awaiting drinks was another. The itching sensation at the base of his spine was a third.

"Heh. 'S right," Samael answered, shifting his cup to the other hand so he could place his fingers over York's and squeeze tightly. "Yer pine cone'll come around once he realizes you're a gift, not no thing he's gotta be scared of losin'..."

York grunted and nodded firmly. "And your...um..." They both paused and blinked stupidly for a few seconds. "Uhh..."

"Sheeeit, Andee's kind of a cone, too!" Samael drawled with a helpless chuckle. "All small 'n spiky but real tough 'n he smells purdy good, too." He smiled into his fungi-infused moonshine. "Hmmm. Since ol' Wash already got the market cornered on 'pine cone'..."

"Dude, I've seen Andee's dick," York blurted, drawing a giggle from Samael. "It's freakin' huge!! He's a redwood cone if I've ever seen it!"

Samael laughed again as some of the despondence sloughed off his shoulders. He was sure it was the same for York. "Well it ain't too red, but--"

"Ain't too red, my ass!" York interjected while grinning and punching Samael's arm lightly. "Just because he was busy choking me with it didn't mean I missed all the studs! Looked like the same metal as yours, as a matter of fact!"

Samael smiled again, letting his tongue stick out for a few seconds. "Maaaaybe it is. It was Andee's idea, though, don't go blamin' me."

York smiled back and raised his cup so Samael could mash his against it. "That's mega-gay, pal. But." He raised a finger and released a gracious wink. "Also shows how much he cares. Your cone will come around, too."

"We jus' gotta keep houndin' 'em, huh?" Samael inquired with a chuckle.

"It's what we do best, ain't it?" York fired back.

"Goddamn, that it sure is, hon..."

They shared a confident nod before they both lifted their cups to their jaws. Samael knocked his entire shot back without hesitation, murmuring a delighted sound at the warm sizzle that ran down his tongue.

He blinked as he saw York taking a small sip, then cooing and tossing the rest into his jaws as well. "Ooh...tingly!" York uttered around a mouthful of soaked mushrooms. He paused to chew on them for a few seconds while a sly grin drifted across Samael's features. York immediately squinted at this. "Wait...what's that face for, ya crazy redneck?"

"Oooh, nothin," Samael purred, setting aside his cup and leaning forward to push a hand into York's chest. "Jus' that you chewin' them things is gonna kick things off for ya way faster."

"Oh ho ho!" York tittered, his tail thumping once against the mattress as he tossed aside his own empty cup and let Samael force him down into the sheets. "For once I'mma finish before you."

"Fer once, yer fuckin' higher'n I thought if yer tryna say you ain't always blastin' off yer load 'fore me," Samael taunted as he straddled his friend's stomach and ran his hands slowly up through the cream fur that covered his chest.

"Not always!" York protested around the breathy giggle. "Like...like that first time in the supply closet! Or up above Highguard!!"

"Uh huh, you keep tryna come up with a list that's any longer'n yer pinkie, pal, I'll be waitin'," Samael jeered before chortling and massaging slowly into York's broad shoulders. "Mmm...fuckin' hell, they used more gleam than I thought. This is gonna be a ride..."

York's eyes rounded to saucers as he reached up with both hands to clutch into Samael's sides. "Wh-hoooa...S-Sammy." Samael tilted his head and tried not to grin as he watched his friend's pupils dilating. "You're...you're...pink."

"Shit, hon...I ain't even had time to paint my claws 'fore I came out here," he replied in a gentle voice, continuing to smile affectionately down at his wide-eyed companion. "That's jus' the shrooms kickin' in..."

York blinked unevenly and tightened his fingers into Samael's side, his voice shrinking to a timid whisper. "Sammy?" Samael gazed at him with reassurance while leaning a bit closer to hear the meek admission: "I've never done mushrooms before."

Samael beamed and gently cupped York's cheeks, bending low enough to bump their snouts together. "Don't worry, hon. I'm right here. I'll make sure you ain't go nowhere you ain't ready for."

York kept staring up at him naively, his voice still barely above a whimper. "You're...you're gonna put your wiener in my butt, aren't you?"

Samael did his best to not giggle, rubbing his thumbs soothingly into York's jaw bone. "Maybe. But not yet." He winked and nipped tenderly at his friend's muzzle.

York huffed loudly, though it slowly gave way to a crooked grin. "I dunno if I mind...'cause...I think I'm gettin' a boner."

This time Samael couldn't help the laugh, nudging his hips backward by a few inches and confirming it with his rump as York rumbled throatily. "You sure are, sweetie." He then leaned forward again to whisper back: "So am I."

York's muzzle dropped open dramatically before he stared between their chests and then gasped. "Whoa. You are!" He shifted his eyes back up to Samael with a confident, albeit woozy, giggle. "I know. I know what to do with those. We got. We got a lotta things we can do with those."

Samael laughed warmly again and squeezed his thighs into York's sides. "We do! But...not yet." He tipped another wink and pushed their muzzles together. "Lemme catch up first so you ain't trippin' solo. I wanna come with."

"Yer gonna come before," York mumbled stubbornly, shoving his maw back against Samael's, then uttering a cry of delight as he rubbed their jaws slowly together. "Ohmigosh, Sammy, you are so cute and soft and tiny...how..how do you do it?"

The cute, soft, tiny chupa giggled in return and ran a hand gently through York's mane. His eyes never left his friend's, watching with fascination as the dazed emerald pools began to swirl. Yeah. Now his share was starting to kick in. "I dunno, Big Pup," he murmured back, losing himself in the sleek comfort of York's silken locks as they slid like quicksilver through his fingers. "How's it yer so big 'n strong 'n handsome? Oughta make a law 'gainst a man so perfect as you..."

He caught a glimpse of Tracer's dark violet eyes through the verdant jungle of York's awe-stricken gaze, but it twisted into tendrils of mist as York whispered back up to him: "N-no, no, you. I dunno...I dunno if I'd ever realized I loved Wash if it wasn't for you, you beautiful, brave redneck..."

"Aw shit, York," Samael murmured while trailing a series of kisses along York's jaw, then pressing his muzzle into his neck. "Chances are I'd already be dead if you ain't done so much to teach me 'bout this rebel stuff...ain't never woulda met Andee if you ain't done all you done fer me." York's fur was a carpet of dreams, softer than anything he'd ever felt as his snout was swallowed and enveloped by the tan ocean, pulled effortlessly into a new dimension. "You 'n North...y'all both was the big brothers like the ones I left behind back home..."

York whimpered, the sound echoing through the caverns of Samael's mind with tones both delighted and distraught. "Northy...god, Sammy, he was such a good guy..." York's hands slid up across Samael's sides and eventually wrapped around him, hugging him fiercely down against his chest as he buried his muzzle into the smaller chupa's shoulder. "I miss him every day. I miss him so much..."

Samael choked back a sob, surfacing from the riptide of York's warm coat long enough to press their cheeks together. "Me too, hon. He ain't...he ain't never even had no chance to marry us and our boyfriends! 'Cause...'cause yanno he woulda!"

York barely kept his own beleaguered wail contained as he clutched that much harder into his friend. "He woulda! He woulda called us gay, big big gay homos, but he woulda married us and he woulda beat up anyone who tried to stop him 'cause..."

"He were a good man," Samael concluded around a sniffle before pulling back far enough so that he could stare into York's eyes. The enchanting emerald lakes glimmered with love and melancholy and astonishment and delight all at once. He wondered what it was like to be Wash, to have the gift of those waters eternally surrounding you with their tender embrace. No matter how difficult Wash was being, there was no way he could be blind to these viridian mirrors that reflected not the flawed being you thought you were, but instead every perfect, wonderful, unique aspect inside you that you refused to believe on your own.

Wash had to know, because...

"He were a good man, jus' like yer Wash!" Samael declared as he cupped York's head with both hands, nodding several times as their torsos began to meld together. "Wash is gonna make everything better for you, hon, I know it!"

York's eyes trembled as violently as the rest of him and he shifted a hand to grasp the base of Samael's head as well, holding their muzzles end-to-end. "Do...do you really think so?"

"I do!" Samael whispered loudly, nodding as he stroked through the twisting, writhing tendrils of York's mane. "Aw, York, he's gonna make all the bad stuff go away...all of it."

He didn't need to look down to find the bronze key with his other hand, closing his fingers around the metal that was so cold it froze his palm, ice battling the heat coursing through him as his entire arm shivered violently. York gasped and reached between them, his massive fingers clutching around Samael's. "B-But...but Sammy...I don't wanna forget," York whispered back, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I don't wanna forget about h--"

"You won't!" Samael blurted, bending forward again to clash their foreheads together. "You won't, hon! Wash ain't gonna make nothin' disappear, but it just ain't gonna hurt no more! 'Cause he's gonna make yer life so good..."

York's eyes somehow widened even further. He couldn't hold back the ugly sob before he gripped the back of Samael's neck and nodded against him. "You...you're right, Sammy. You're right. I love him so much, Sammy, I love him so much..."

"I know you do, 'cause I feel it, I feel that love, I feel it all around you," Samael reassured as his own eyes filled with tears, the wicked winds of his memories whipping past him with reminders of what love had once been, what love still was. York's past had a shadow Samael couldn't see, but maybe he could shine light into his own, cast upon it with the warmth of the candle he cradled to his chest in the howling blizzard. "An'...an' maybe Andee, maybe...maybe he c'n do the same fer me. Maybe he c'n...maybe he c'n be what Tr--"

"He will!" York yowled defiantly, nodding so fervently that their shared tears took flight, crashing together in microcosmic aerial collisions to form perfect, wet diamonds around their heads. "He loves you, Sammy, he really does!"

"Ah love 'im so much," Samael whimpered, clutching desperately into York's shoulder as the wizened, haunting purple irises cut through the haze and invited Samael back toward the darkness. "Andee's the only thing sometimes keepin' me from lookin' back, thinkin' about how he died--"

"No, no-no-no, Sammy, no," York interjected pleadingly as he suddenly sat up, lifting his friend easily while still clinging to him, his hands frantically rubbing along his spine and the nape of his neck while he shook his head numbly. Tears cut clear rivulets through his cheeks, stains of emotions that twisted around them not as invisible whims but ribbons Samael could see and touch and taste. His chest heaved as York trembled hard enough for them both. "Don't be sad, Sammy, don't be sad, don't be sad...we have Andee--"

"We have Wash--"

"And we're puppies--"

"We're puppies, hon!"

"We're supposed to be happy!"

Samael's eyes bulged at the realization, his hands clutching York's cheeks again. "'Cause we're puppies!"

York nodded violently, his vibrant emerald gaze overtaking the amethyst whispers and slicing through the pungent fog around them. "We can't be sad about the past, Sammy, because now we have a future!"

Samael's jaw dropped.

Of course.

The future!

"Yer right! We do! I'mma...I'mma put on somethin' happy!" Samael managed in a strangled tone as he bounced wildly in York's lap. "I wanna know what yer gonna do with yer cone-future!"

"Yeah! Yeah, yeah!" York cried out, releasing Samael so he could slide off the velvet clouds to soar down to the solid earth far below. "And you tell me about yours!"

A dull thud reverberated in Samael's ears as he gave a surprised squawk at the unexpected impact, finding himself staring up at a ceiling that must have been five or six klicks away. York's face appeared a few moments later from the soft violet horizon, staring down wide-eyed. "Whoa. Sammy, how'd you get down there?"

"I dunno!" Samael exclaimed. "How'd I get up there? I'm scared'a heights!"

York shrunk back from the distant cliffs until only his rounded eyes were visible over the crest of the fabric landscape. "Sammy, what if I'm scared'a heights, too? I dunno how I'll get down, I didn't bring a parachute!"

Samael blinked sluggishly and then cupped his hands around his muzzle. "It's okay, I'll find the stairs!" he yelled back. He struggled to roll over, pushing himself onto all fours and wheezing from the effort. He took several rapid, deep breaths, then squirmed up to a kneel, reaching out blindly go clamp into a warm, furry branch for support...

...Then slowly turning his head to find himself face-to-face with York as his friend gawked at him. "Sammy?! Did you get tall?? You're so high up there! And so am I!"

Samael blinked again and then looked stupidly down at his legs before stretching an arm toward the distant ground. He stared in disbelief when he pressed his palm against the surface before he gasped loudly. "York!" He whipped his head back toward his wide-eyed companion. "We're not high. We're high."

York continued to stare at him for several seconds, then nodded solemnly. "We're high."

Samael giggled and pushed himself onto shaky legs, his eyes shifting around the blurry canvas of their surroundings until the phonograph came into focus. "Good...good music. Good music," he chanted, lurching forward as York piped up behind him.

"Can I tell you how much I love Wash?!"

Samael thrust an arm into the air before wincing, remembering about the other side of Sirca and not wanting to accidentally grab into Wortistan. "Yeah! I wanna know how many babies yer gonna have with him after the war!" he cried out as he dropped back into a kneel next to the record player so he could look for the brightest, cheeriest album cover he could find.

"Oh my god, we're gonna have so many babies," York mumbled from behind him. "I mean. I mean, we can't, 'cause...'cause being a werewolf means my...my balls don't work." He paused long enough for Samael to make a sound of disbelief.

"No way! Yer...yer balls work real good, I just seent 'em work like two hours ago!"

"Yeah, they do, but like...like the juice inside, it's...hold on, I gotta...uh oh..." York trailed off before a heavy thump shook the room, paired with a muffled squawk. Samael blinked and then looked over a shoulder to see an odd crawbear rug crumpled up in front of the bed. But where had York gone?

"Yooork? York, hon, where'd...where'd you..."

He tilted his head slowly, bewildered. The rug looked just like his friend, and -- oh!

His eyes bulged as the rug morphed into York sitting up with a dazed grin, a crooked finger jutting into the air next to his muzzle. "Hey. Hey, I found the stairs, Sammy."

"Yer so smart!" Samael bellowed proudly before he thrust his arms up, both hands clutching tightly into a pastel-colored record sleeve. "Look what I found! 'S the one from our last party wit' Northy!"

"Put it on, put it on put it on put it on!" York insisted as he started to kneel, then opted to simply flop onto his side with a grunt as the room shook again. "Sammy?"

Samael had his tongue between his teeth, forcing every nerve in his overstimulated body to obey so he could carefully lower the record onto the turntable. He had to focus, now, this was important.

"Saaaaammy?"

Samael's eyes widened and he leaned down, a rush of air flying through his nostrils from the effort. He could see the motes of dust twirling and dancing around his muzzle, tiny cabaret performers begging for a rollicking tune to use for their show. So close now, he just had to move his arm through the molasses, through the delicious, warm, sticky jungle syrup to lift the needle and guide it slowly, slowly, slowly to the record as it began to spin--

"Saaaaaaaaaaaammy!"

And with a soft sigh, the needle found its place at the edge of the vinyl as a crackle streamed from the speakers, like a conductor tapping a baton against a music stand. Samael beamed brightly and wiggled his shoulders before checking the little box -- nice and neat and orderly, just the way Andee liked -- and finally letting his attention move to the next item on the list.

He spun around on his knees to smile across the room at York, who was sprawled out on his side with an arm thrust into the air. "What is it, buddy?!?"

York gazed up at him, a comfortable-looking mountain range of tans and browns stretched across the floor below. "Hey...Sammy." York cupped his muzzle in his palm, the cutest mixture of shyness and delight painted over his chiseled features. "Do you...do you like Wash?"

Samael paused in mid-step, his paw hovering tens of kilometers from the ground. Did he like Wash? Wash, who was always yelling at him, always trying to break up his time with York, always complaining about how dumb he was and how he got York in so much trouble.

Did he like Wash?!

What kind of silly question was that?

Samael cautiously lowered his foot and then dropped his hands onto his hips. "Nope," he replied after a moment of deliberation.

York's eyes grew impossibly large, a tremble threatening his craggy peaks. "N-no?" he whimpered.

Samael stamped forward confidently and thrust his muzzle into the air with a flick of his tail. "I love him!"

York gasped and wrapped both hands around his maw while staring up with overbright eyes. "You do!?"

"Yeah, of course I do!" Samael swept toward his friend, dropping to his knees with a grunt so he could scoop York's gorgeous face into both hands, shoving their muzzles together. "He's yer pine cone! He's strong 'n he's cute 'n he's real good at runnin' things, even if he don't believe it! Plus I love you, an' ain't no way no boyfriend'a my best friend's gonna get away without me lovin' them, too!!" York's tremors shook them both, but they were full of joy now. Samael accepted the warmth without hesitation, even as his own eyes widened and his voice dropped to a concerned whisper: "Do...you love Andee?"

York continued staring up at him from the ground for a few seconds before he silently crawled up to his knees and planted his massive hands on Samael's shoulders. "Sammy. Sammy, no matter what anyone else says...I believe in Andee." He shook Samael firmly, breaking loose a few tears to roll freely over the smaller chupa's cheeks. "I love him, because you love him, because you would go to the ends of the ring for him and...and you're a good person, Sammy! You're the best person I know and you wouldn't love somebody so much unless they deserved it!"

He wrapped Samael up into a fierce hug, belting out over him: "I love Andee and I know he's gonna prove me right one day!"

Samael choked out a happy moan and hugged York back tightly as they began to bounce in place. "You really mean it?? D-don't you think...Andee's all mean and wrong for me?" He halted his jumping long enough to stare down as an avalanche of ennui crashed into him. "That's...what's what e'ryone else thinks..."

"Who cares what anyone else thinks?!" Samael lifted his head and then squeaked in shock as York's hands slid under his arms to lift his stout body off the floor so they were eye-to-eye. "I bet that's what everyone would say about Wash too, if they knew!" He gave Samael another solid shake as the smaller chupa clung to his arms in return. "They're all wrong! They're all stupid!"

York spun in place, twirling Samael in a circle around himself as Samael tried to decide if he was terrified or elated. Considering the gleeful cry he gave, it was probably the latter. "Our boyfriends are so awesome!" Samael announced to the boilers before clapping his palms onto York's shoulders. His friend was so strong, so beautiful. His muscles felt like the gentlest boulders beneath his fingers, somehow both comforting and indomitable. "York...York, we. We gotta kill God."

York nodded rapidly. "Yeah we do!" He blinked after a moment. "Wait...why do we gotta kill God?"

Samael grunted and flicked his tail firmly, filling the room with the chime of a thousand determined puppies. "So this goddamn war c'n be over an' we can stop livin' in ice-caves 'n jungle-labs an' move into houses wit' our cones!"

York gawked as he held Samael out at arms' length for a few moments, then pulled him closer as he whispered loudly: "Hey...hey, after we kill God, do you think we can be neighbors?"

Samael gasped and wrapped his arms around York's neck as York began to hop from paw to paw. "Yeah! Yeah, oh my god, yes!"

York's eyes were glowing shafts of warm lush light, beams of life that effortlessly decimated the darkness that had once threatened to overwhelm their lives. "Oh my god, Sammy...do you think we could have barbecues?!?" His gawking somehow grew even more excited as Samael quivered intensely in his grip, his paws kicking happily at the air as York pranced in a tight circle. "Do you think we could have foursomes?!?"

Samael's lower jaw might as well have dislodged from his skull to smash into the floor. He could imagine it now, Andee's small but nimble body holding his head close as York's powerful form writhed in delight below him, and Wash's slender, soft yet tough frame at his back, slamming mercilessly but passionately into him. His eyes rolled back as he tasted every drop of the forbidden fantasy. "Aw, York, gawd, gawd yeah, but...but Wash! Wash hates me, he'd...he'd never...it'd be impossible!" Samael wailed, clinging to York's muzzle and staring into his eyes.

But York's own features were bursting with optimism as he shook his head wildly. "He doesn't hate you, Sammy! Or at least he can't forever! And...and we've already had a threesome!! That's...that's like...two...two-fourths...two-thirds...of the way--"

"Three-thirds! 'Cause there were three of us!" Samael interjected confidently.

"Yeah, three-thirds of the way there!" York agreed before he suddenly pulled Samael tightly to his chest again as their arms wrapped around one another. "It's gonna happen...I just know it!"

Samael was lost in the warm hide, miles into a forest of comfort and bliss. This must have been what it was like to be Wash, to be held by York and loved so intensely. To be the center of his world, his life, his everything. Wash really was so lucky...and so wonderful. Samael was distraught that York wasn't holding Wash right now, wasn't spinning happily around a hazy field with him this very instant.

He knew what he had to do.

"York!"

His hands clung tightly into York's shoulders again as the two friends stared at each other, their muzzles pressed together. "Wh-what is it, Sammy?" York's paws shuffled to a stop as the music swelled around their panting forms.

Samael breathed hard and wrapped an arm around York's neck, never once allowing his eyes to break with the effortless depth of his best friend's viridian gaze. "York, hon..." He licked his lips as he heard the blissful moans, felt the loving embrace, tasted the honeysuckle-sweet adulation. He bit his lip hard and then suddenly yowled: "I want you to take me like I'm Wash! I know how much you love 'im, I wanna feel all that love 'n give it all back, too!"

York's eyes could have swallowed Nerom as he stared speechlessly at Samael. Samael's breath hitched and his tail slowly drooped as York stumbled forward with Samael still in his grip.

Oh no.

Oh no, he couldn't see the emotions any more, all the pinks and the reds and the yellows of their joys and excitement and now all he saw was...

Was...

His eyes suddenly bulged as viscous velvet poured from York's hungry gaze to flood the room, his maw opening to spill even richer violet words that ran across Samael thicker than any syrup. "I'm gonna fuck you like I'm Andee," he replied huskily as the saturated passion twisted around their bodies and pulled them tight. "I'm gonna show you just how much he loves you," he added, his hot breath a flood tide of eager need that flowed over his muzzle to drench his features with his friend's glorious intentions

Samael's mewling whisper was sharpened to a needy cry as York shoved him against the wall, the grasping tendrils of the brick surface grinding into his muscular form with unrelenting force. He wrapped his arms tightly around York's neck as his companion leaned in close and drew his tongue roughly along Samael's throat.

Samael's spines scratched audibly against the wall as his legs journeyed around York's broad torso to anchor their fiery souls together, a moan escaping his muzzle while York panted hard into his neck. "Are you ready, buddy?"

"Oh god, yes," Samael whined. York maneuvered one hand down to pin his body against the wall as the other shifted lower, diving down past the roiling surface of the magenta ocean frothing around them to grasp into the lurking treasure.

York's head lifted enough for their gazes to meet and the devilish grin revealed to Samael the most blessed vision of yellow eyes, silver studs and a voice like melted dark chocolate.

"No you ain't..."

* ~ * ~ * NSFW Begins (Illusions of Velvet) * ~ * ~ *

Samael's jaw hung open as his head bowed forward in time with York's, their foreheads pressing together as the larger male held him in place. York's hips were a blissful tidal surge, a single, mighty thrust sending his bounty plunging into Samael's depths with matching cries of delight echoing out as one harmonic wail.

"Nnngh, g-guh, god, y-y-yes, g-give it all to me!" Samael pleaded as he clung desperately to York's neck while arching his back against the wall. "I'm all yers!"

"Oh god..." A warbling groan flit from York like a bird given unexpected freedom, his muzzle driving down into Samael's shoulder as he drew his blistering heat steadily backward. Samael immediately whimpered as the magnificent pressure withdrew and left his caves hollow, frigid and wanting. "Yeah you are, little buddy" York uttered before he swung his hips forward again slowly but firmly as the raging tempest returned to saturate Samael's barren passage. "This is all yours..."

"I want it all!" Samael panted, one arm wrapping around his lover's head to pull him harder into the sweltering confines of his throat. "Visb mo xuhtoh!" He knew the words, yet couldn't fathom what they meant.

York moaned from the damp grey-and-white plateau of his companion's expansive landscape, his hips shuddering at the foreign plea twirling off of Samael's tongue to whisk through the air and slither into his ears. "Fuck yeah...oh god, yeah, take it all, puppy..." he whispered while sandwiching Samael harder against the wall and drawing his hips back again.

It was a swifter motion than before and Samael's head rolled back ecstatically as his fingers closed into silken robes of auburn, transforming them into marionette strings with a loving tug. York grunted his compliance and urged the tides forward to once more crash his coral vessel into Samael's awaiting cove.

The steaming purple seas lapped eagerly at their entwined forms; Samael could taste the sweet waters as his features parted into a gaping maw of gleaming daggers surrounding a dark crimson serpent that rolled and curled about, slinging forth hungry scripture that clung to each jagged peak. Somewhere below, an azure lighthouse rose up from his quivering cliffside, emitting the bright fire of his soul as a luminescent beacon that guided York's fleet into its snug port. And as the brilliant tower was erected, so did those ivory peaks descend to graze and glide through soft amber fields until colliding with the warm bedrock below, soft yet unyielding.

Samael ordered his eyes to stay open as his friend's head lifted in response. He stared through the soupy melange, seeing Andee, seeing York, seeing his lover. He never wanted to lose them again. With that single goal in mind, the valley of eager crowns closed upon itself and the glistening ivory fangs drove into York's terrain.

York's cry enveloped Samael with rapture and awe, devoid of even a single drop of pain or trauma. Only bliss spilled from his lips as he pressed his muzzle into Samael's neck and began to thrust firmly into his companion. Pain didn't slow him down because York was strong, York was fierce, York was an indomitable beast, one of the few who could truly give Samael's wild soul solace.

The same way Andee could, if he was given the chance.

Samael's eyes closed as he tightened his embrace and clenched his jaws in desperation. His fingers curled into York's mane and the flex of his muscles rolled smoothly through his wrist and along his thick arm, looping around his shoulder and into his spine to surf all the way to his torso; his body clamped harder around York, and York sounded his raw elation. The massive hands shifted across Samael, hands that could crush and kill and punish...but hands that now only gave security to his partner, to his buddy, to his best friend. The rhythmic pounding into Samael's yearning passage made other sensations numb, but York's warm strength overcame all as Samael felt one hand gripping into a hip as the other cradled the back of his head, driving the smaller chupa's teeth only deeper into York's shoulder.

A feral growl bounced between them, heralded by a more fervent tempo that slammed Samael's shoulders against the wall with each title-winning punch. It was York's growl, the same way it was York's tree-trunk of a leg that Samael sensed sliding back to lock at an angle and allow the beautiful beast an even more relentless pace, as it was York's bulbous base that begged for entry, his ponderous orbs that swung into Samael's hindquarters with the perfect time signature of Sirca's greatest musician.

"Ooh...ngh...f-fuh-fuck, Sammy..." The words...no, the sounds were drenched with lust and drawn tight with the velvety ropes of inevitability, made all the more poignant by the way each thrust now nearly freed the tip of the turgid fuchsia blade from its trembling victim. York's body was a well-oiled machine that had long ago been calibrated and attuned to Samael's -- he knew exactly how far to pull back for his piston to remain in its sleeve, the precise angle of attack to use to ensure the smoothest revolutions...and of course, specifically how many pounds per square inch he needed to exert to achieve the ultimate harmonic frequency with his little redneck friend.

Samael at last pulled his head back with a staggered moan, blood and drool mixing into a thick slurry that rolled down his chin and across York's chest. His drawn-out cry was steam escaping the chimney of an overactive factory, billowing forth in a relentless plume of joy to form swollen clouds that drizzled praise and tribute over the vigorous craftsman pouring his heart and soul into the ravenous boilers. Samael's claws raked lovingly through his partner's back as their eyes met once more. The effects of the enhanced mushrooms were starting to fade from Samael, though he could see York's eyes still on their journey around Nerom.

Samael smiled jaggedly, his breath hot and short as he clung to the back of York's skull. "C'mon, hon...gimme that fuckin' knot...yer so fuckin' close..."

York's jaws spread wide for a moment as he groaned at a very intentional flex around his blurred flesh, increasing the force of his motions to compensate and drawing a jubilant hiss from his companion while the rhythmic jingling of his tail bouncing off the wall became erratic. Samael embraced the lingering intoxication jealously, letting himself feel every confident penetration, every defiant yet compassionate parting of his firm dunes to conquer the lush valley lying between.

"S-s-screw you, Sammy," York panted, his words curling through the haze of the tangible tenderness bubbling between them to elicit a grin from Samael. "You gotta c-come...first!"

Samael couldn't bring himself to complain when York released his skull and curled his gigantic fingers around the slick teal guidepost thumping back and forth between them. Samael's head slammed back against the brick with a happy gurgle as his lover began to demand direction from the engorged indicator, pumping it for information and growling eagerly into Samael's chest while working his hips even faster.

Samael's toes curled painfully, one of his legs stretching out stiffly as he barked out a sharp cry with each frenzied stroke, the dissipating inebriation morphing into the even greater intensity of their raw erotic rhapsody. Fountains of thin, clear fluid rushed out, a near river of his lust soaking into York's fingers and splashing across their stomachs. Yet no matter how fervently York's fingers worked and massaged and squeezed into his piercings or gripped hungrily into his knot, Samael's peak remained elusive, hidden beyond the impenetrable fog hovering above their heads.

"F-fuh...fuck...c-c-come on...Sammy!" York bleated as he shoved his muzzle against Samael's, the smaller chupa's eyes snapping open to stare into his friend's desperation.

Samael tightened his fingers into the base of York's skull, pulling their foreheads together as his tail twisted around and caught York's to loop fiercely around it. "It's a-a-all g-good, York, nghh...gawd, please...please gimme that fuckin' thing, I need it, hon, I need you!"

York bit his lip and stared back into Samael's eyes before whimpering a blissful concession and nodding once, pressing his forehead against Samael's and planting both hands against the wall on either side of Samael's head. His extended leg slid further back as the other bent forward into the wall. Words became useless, replaced by a guttural shout as York steeled himself and then punched his hips upward in the same instant that Samael wrapped his legs tightly around his torso once again.

His knot slammed into Samael and mashed his stout body painfully against the wall as Samael screamed his rapture to the ceiling, his fingers trembling into York's skull while York broke into a series of tiny, relentless lunges. Their eyes shut tightly, their muzzles opening in tandem as their heated moans mixed into one. York was blessedly perfect even with the daze of the high still holding him hostage, never pulling back enough to release himself despite the onslaught of rapid-fire thrusts.

Samael's malehood continued to bounce wildly between their sweat-drenched bodies, flinging the translucent ropes of his excitement across their fur. The pleasure built higher and higher, scrabbling over his inner walls without any intention of reaching the top. He didn't need the climax that refused to arrive, though; he could share York's.

His eyes opened to watch the strained features of his friend, Samael's adulating whine growing louder as York pushed himself harder and harder until his muzzle wrinkled and his head shoved hard against Samael's, their entwined tails tightening painfully as he plunged into Samael with every ounce of his strength and exploded with the unparalleled might of their combined euphoria.

Their foreheads remained pressed securely together, Samael wrapping both hands around the back of his companion's skull while York smashed him into the wall with a joyful bellow, shoving his body so tightly to Samael's that the smaller chupa felt every powerful thump of York's heartbeat. York's hips lost all rhythm, twitching madly into Samael as the first salvo fired deep into his friend's trembling form with enough force that Samael's teeth clenched from the pressure. He could hear York's claws scraping against the brick on either side of his head as the last of Xulod's gifts dissolved into hazy motes, leaving him with the pure, untainted sensation of York's unbridled climax.

He stroked his fingers through York's mane and whispered jagged encouragements between the machine-gun-fire impacts of his lover's waist, never once taking his eyes off of York's blissful expression, his muzzle curled into a concentrated grin that radiated all the strange intimacy the two had experienced since the day they'd met. He kept his legs wrapped stubbornly in place so York was free to clutch into the wall and thrust wildly through the entirety of his lengthy orgasm, calling his name in a drawn-out moan of delight when York finally shoved upward mightily to hilt himself to the sheath and allowed the last few powerful streams of ecstasy to pump into Samael of their own accord.

* ~ * ~ * NSFW Ends * ~ * ~ *

Samael's breathing was nearly as heavy as York's and he tugged gently on the nape of his friend's neck to encourage him to lower his muzzle into his shoulder. York complied without hesitation, murmuring soft supplications and burying his snout in Samael's damp fur as his small companion nuzzled through his tousled mane and held his head tenderly close.

"Yer too good to me, hon..." Samael shut his eyes with a tremble as his quivering fingers moved gently along York's slick mane. "I shoulda gone to Andee, but...but I ain't...I ain't worthy, not after all I done 'n said to 'im, I ain't wanna hurt 'im...an' now yer the one havin' to deal..."

York rested against him, using the pressure of the wall to hold their exhausted bodies up as one huge arm curled around beneath Samael's tail to cradle his hindquarters. "Hush, Sammy," he whispered into his neck, his eyes opening to glance up at his friend. "All the things...I wanna do with Wash..." He took a moment to swallow thickly. "I'm not what he needs, either...you...you give me that place to be...when I'm not right for Wash..."

Samael's body quaked and he clutched York's head to his chest. "I love 'im so much, though..."

"I love him too," York echoed before carefully stepping back from the wall and holding Samael gingerly to avoid jostling himself too much. Samael could see his eyes returning to normal as the trip evened out for York as well. "We...we can't give up..."

Samael shook his head sluggishly and briefly touched their foreheads together again. "We're gonna do our best, York. 'S what they deserve..."

"Yeah...it is," York murmured in return, making his way over to North's tattered old armchair and then unceremoniously dropping into it with a grunt. They both winced but Samael's hiss angled more toward unrepentant pleasure than pain, his eyes closing as he stroked slowly down York's broad chest, then gripped into his key.

"We're lucky, hon. No matter what no one else says, we're...we're fuckin' blessed. Ain't no two fellas anywhere else on Sirca make us feel the way they do. It's gonna be worth everything we're puttin' ourselves through."

York's voice was as soothing as the rough pads massaging down between his shoulder blades. "I know, Sammy. We live some crazy lives. We've...we've all been through a lot." Samael's fingers tightened around the key as York's claws drew a small circle around one of the oldest scars on Samael's back. "I know they care about us. Wash is my best friend, and Andee has never...never looked at anyone the way he looks at you. We just...we decided to fall in love with two of the angriest, work-obsessed, emotionally-withdrawn guys on Sirca. Y'know. The way puppies do."

Samael chuckled softly and blindly nosed into York's cheek while squeezing his legs around his sides. "Sheeeeit, guess that's as true as it gets. Good thing we're stubborn motherfuckers."

"You got that right, Sammy...you got that right."

His eyes slid open once again and the two friends gazed at each other for several long but comfortable seconds. It wasn't the first time they'd had an emotional conversation with York's plow still wedged deep within Samael's well-tended garden. This was kind of just who they were by now.

"What's bothering you, pal?"

York nudged Samael's muzzle with his own, stirring a quiet smile from the stout chupa. "I just got some'a the finest lovin' I ever did see -- why you actin' like yer some kinda mind-reader, huh?"

"Because it was some of the finest lovin' you've ever gotten, you already know I normally save that for Wash," York boasted, even as he smiled back and stroked a thumb along Samael's jaw studs. "Except I think it's the first time I haven't seen you get off. Makes a guy self-conscious."

"Lookit big ol' cocky York, a li'l tore up he ain't got his best-sex-buddy to fire off no rounds!" Samael crowed, though he could see the real concern behind York's grin. He maintained his small smile and caressed York's cheek before peering over his shoulder to the nearby table. "I ain't gettin' off this ride yet -- use one'a them big-ass gorilla arms of yers, grab us some 'shine 'fore we lose this buzz..." He looked back at York and winked, placing a finger against his muzzle before he could start his huffy protest. "Promise I'll talk." He leaned up and lowered his voice to a whisper. "At least 'til this ruff kicks up again an' I go fer that lube instead..."

The shiver that ran through York brought raw elation and he chortled as York cleared his throat and wrapped one arm around him to keep him in place while reaching for the nearest jar of liquor with the other. "Lord, I'm gonna need to make a goddamn Sammy Ruff Kit for next year," he mumbled.

Red vs Blue © Rooster Teeth. Halo © 343 Industries. Concept by Myshu, assisted by The Department of Chupapology.