Writing

Milkshakes and Foxes

Posted on 15 Jul 2005 - Rated: X

38 paragraphs • 1806 words

Two foxes walked into a bar.

Well, okay, a diner, but most of those are outfitted with a bar type area, which is close enough. Both were full of giggles, outfitted with grins and their most casual of “nice” clothes. Somehow managing to look similar without related, the two got along as if they were brothers. One was taller than the other, and though both were thin, he came off as lanky, whereas the the shorter fox seemed more waifish than anything - more of a track runner than his friend, the basketball star.

Although the restaurant was nearly empty - its only other customer being one of those folk who sit at the bar, nursing their second cup of coffee while staring at the gold flakes on the counter as if they might somehow swirl into formation to reveal the deepest secrets of the universe - the two jovial friends made their way to the corner booth and plopped down across from each other. Their animated discussion, more gossip than anything, was interrupted by a cat on rollerskates snapping her gum loudly by the table.

The foxes peeked up at the waitress, who had picked up on the jovial mood and was beaming down at them, asking, “What’ll it be, you two?”

Straightening up, the larger of the foxes proclaimed proudly, as if he had rehearsed, “A vanilla shake, please, and a couple of spoons.”

The waitress’ eyes flicked between the two, but she said nothing, simply jotting down the order before rather pointedly asking the other fox what he’d like. The smaller of the two stammered for a second as if someone had just asked him what he’d like immediately after he’d placed his order, “Uh.. c-coffee, please.”

The rollercat nodded and rolled on off, leaving the two foxes to glance at each other nervously, unsure as to whether they’d committed some sort of faux pas. Each shrugged at each other at the same time, and both giggled, quickly slipping back into their animated chatter.

The feline rolled smoothly up to the table again, this time with a tray holding a shake, two mugs, and a carafe of coffee. Setting the shake in the middle and the two mugs in front of each fox, she poured both a cup of coffee before zooming back to the kitchen with the kick of a skate.

The coffee sat ignored by both foxes as each grabbed a spoon from the shake, pulling it out to get that first bite, where the spoon’s already covered with a liberal coating of shake, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. Coated spoons made their way into waiting muzzles, and were subsequently licked clean by attentive tongues.

With much giggling, the conversation continued, drifting from teachers to movies, parents to homework. Slowly, carefully, the shake was diminished, each taking care to leave the maraschino cherry standing in the middle of the glass atop a tilting pillar of slowly melting whipped cream.

The talking wound down until the two were eating in silence, the taller of the foxes apparently lost in thought (or the lack thereof) as he stared out the window, while the smaller sat and watched his friend.

“Whaaat?” asked the larger vulpine when he caught the other’s gaze, muzzle tilted with a half grin.

Laughing, the other fox gave a shrug and dipped his spoon in the slowly melting desert and held it out to the vulpine, who, letting out a quiet giggle, leaned forward to take the proffered bite. Resting his chin on his paws, he smiled quite happily as he let his friend feed him another few bites like that.

Smiling just as much, the shorter of the two fished around in the glass with his spoon to get at the cherry, picking it up delicately by the stem, he offered that as the next bite, his movements slow and deliberate. Leaning forward a little further, the larger fox delicate picked the almost-too-sweet fruit from the stem, eyes locked with the other’s.

With the other fox still leaning forward like that, it didn’t take much for the smaller fox, still moving deliberately, to press his head forward. It was fairly clear what he intended to happen next.

Clear, even to the waitress, who had rolled up at a rather inopportune moment. With a snap of her gum and a slightly ‘grossed-out’ look, she slapped the check down on the table, grumbled, “I should’ve known..” and pushed off towards the kitchen.

The two foxes sat in stunned silence for several seconds as the insides of each of their ears turned a matching shade of pink with blush. The larger foxes shaky paws fiddled with the check for lack of anything better to do, while the smaller fox sat still, eyes wide and welling up with frightened tears.

The check had “get a room” scrawled across it, and “on the house” scribbled hastily at the bottom. Taking that as their cue to leave, the pair made a clumsy escape from the diner, followed by the disdainful gaze of the rollercat.


Safe in the basement of the larger fox’s house - the closer of the two - the duo sat stiffly, awkwardly on an overstuffed couch. Both had been silent on the brisk walk home, looking at anything except each other. The silence continued now as the shorter vulpine glanced at his friend with apologetic eyes.

“I didn’t think… I mean, I guess I shouldn’t have done that…”

Nothing.

“I’m sorry, I guess I forgot…” he trailed off.

Still nothing. The larger fox was looking down at his fingers, which he kept clasping and unclasping, clasping again.

“I should go, I think.” He sat still a while longer, brow furrowed, before nodding and repeating, “I should go.”

He only made it halfway to standing before he was stopped by a paw grabbing at one of his own and a sotto voce, “No, wait..”

Looking down at his friend, who wouldn’t meet his gaze, he half stood, stooped over and stuck there by indecision. “‘m sorry, don’t go,” continued the fox.

Giving the paw a squeeze in his own, the other nodded and sat back down, looking down at his knees. When those gave him no words to speak to make things better, he turned to look at his friend, grunting in surprise when his muzzle met with another, one which had been aiming to give him a kiss on the cheek. Both blushing foxes mumbled an apology at the same time, giggled, and pressed into an awkward kiss, noses mushed together and lips not quite hitting their mark.

Two foxes sat in a basement, working out the logistics of their first, vanilla-flavored kiss: all the little things that make foxkissing nice, like tilting muzzles just slightly so that the nose is out of the way, and exploring tonguetip with tonguetip. Ears laid back and tails all atwitch, still holding hands, the pair relaxed back from the kiss and smiled at each other before averting their eyes bashfully.

Silence stretched out awkwardly as two foxes, both unsure of what to do and cautious of the other’s reaction, slowly edged closer together. The larger fox disentangled his paw from the smaller fox’s, draping it around his friend’s shoulders. The shorter rested his paw on the taller’s thigh. More kisses were shared as the foxes relaxed from the earlier tension - hesitant kisses that grew in confidence.

The bigger fox tensed up some and let out a muffled “hey…” against the other fox’s lips when the paw on his thigh started to knead at his leg through his pants. The paw was tugged away quickly and the kiss was broken.

“I’m sorry, got carried away,” mumbled the fox. There was a short pause before the larger fox responded by resting his own paw on his friends thigh and rubbing at it much in the same way he had been rubbed. Meeting and returning the taller fox’s smiling gaze and giving him a quick peck on the cheek, the smaller of the two returned his paw to its previous location.

Both vulpines sat on the couch, quiet and tense, with their paws (both using the paw closest to the other) rather blatantly in each others laps, each rubbing at the other’s leg and wondering which one would take the logical next step, all the while avoiding the other fox’s gaze. When their eyes did meet, both moved at once, shifting a little on the couch and pressing into another full kiss while sliding their paws further up into their friend’s lap. Fingertips met firm ridges of half-hard arousals and touched delicately, one fox letting out a sigh through the nose while the other held his breath.

Apologies forgotten - though both still quite flushed in the ears and ‘neath the fur - the movements of both foxes became more heated, the larger fox squirming some and changing his paws, slipping his near arm around the smaller fox’s waist while the paw from the far arm reached to undo the other fox’s belt. Letting out a tense sounding noise, the smaller fox followed suit, turning a little towards his friend to make reaching easier for both of them, draping his leg over one of the other fox’s in doing so.

By silent, mutual agreement, the two young foxes worked at getting into each other’s pants, eager paws shaky at the prospect of moving so quickly. Since the other was not wearing a belt, it was the smaller fox that succeeded first in unbuttoning and unzipping his friend’s pants, though the larger fox wasn’t far behind. Abandoning kisses for gawking, each fox watched as his paw rubbed against the distended crotch of the other’s briefs, both tense and breathing rather heavily at the intense feeling.

Still not meeting each other’s gaze for very long, both foxes were blushed almost to the color of their fur while fingers fumbled with elastic waistbands to free the erections held therein. With paws curling carefully around those, the pair moaned briefly and quietly, giggling afterward at the synchrony. Leaning against the other, each fox’s paw slid along sensitive flesh as each had done to themselves, but never another.

With all the excitement and tension built up, it wasn’t long before the shorter of the two foxes stifled a whimper in the neck-fur of his friend, leaving the taller fox to watch in open-mouthed awe as he gained a sticky paw. The heady rush of imagery, scents, and warmth in his paw brought the larger vulpine to a similar climax, breathing heavy and tinged with a restrained whine.

Several minutes later found both foxes in much the same position, holding close against each other with one damp and one clean paw each, sharing one last vanilla flavored kiss or three before dozing off leaning against the other, sore necks be damned.


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