|Image courtesy of [Marc Aert] / FreeDigitalPhotos.net.|
Billy pressed both hind paws against George’s belly while he angled with his forepaws for George’s neck. George nudged his face aside before gently licking from Billy’s snout to his chest, grooming him.
See? That’s what I mean! I know you’re all for the big wilderness and all that but… can’t we go home and have sex on a bed? You remember what’s it’s like, right? A real bed, I mean?
Images flashed up in front of George’s inner eye; images of Billy in his human form—a small, lithe man with finely toned muscles everywhere and the most beautiful green-blue eyes. Oh, and he also had the thickest, albeit softest, auburn hair George had ever felt.
Hello-ho! You’re doing it again! Billy singsonged.
George nipped sharply at Billy’s left ear. I’m old. I’m allowed to be sentimental.
Billy snorted. You’re forty-three. That’s not old.
You’re twenty-eight. I’m from the Stone Age in comparison to you. I even have the gray hair to prove it.
Dork, Billy said with a great deal of affection in his voice. Seconds later he pleaded, Come on, George, please. I want to eat a warm meal. I want to sleep in a comfortable bed with you curled around me. I want you to make love to me in our bed, not on a hard and frozen ground.
We padded our den. You’re not lying on frozen ground, George retorted then made the mistake of gazing into Billy’s eyes and surrendered. All right, we’ll go home.
Oh, splendid! Billy crooned. After flipping onto his side he bounced to his feet. He was already climbing out of their den when he called, Last one home has to cook!
Hey! George shouted.
He received no answer. After crawling out of the den himself he searched for Billy’s paw prints in the snow and gave chase.