Sleep Well, My Sweet
DISCLAIMER: Because every story needs one. This is a work of fiction. This chapter has M/M love, kissing, cuddling, relationships and food eating. If you are under the legal age (18/21), it is illegal for you to view this material, or you are offended, you may leave. Otherwise read on. Any resemblance to real people/places/events is purely coincidental in nature. All characters from the series, unless otherwise specified in all parts in existence and from this point forward are copyrighted to Thomas Andrews (tapanther). Permission is given to copy the story for personal viewing, so long as the text remains unaltered. You may not post this story elsewhere without the author's (me) consent. If you wish, send me a PM for permission. I'm sure it will be granted.
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NOTE: Due to me being to lazy to put for italics, all mental notes/thoughts will be in some form of brackets. Ex: [It's been so long since he's been this lively].
ENJOY!
Sleep Well, My Sweet.
[Let's see . . . Computer's packed. What about my clothes? Hmm. . . Socks? Check. Pants? Check. Underwear? Check. Shirts? Check. Hat? Don't need it. Shoes? Wearing them. Coat? No. Where is that? Coat, coat, coat . . . here it is. Check. Soap, brush, toothpaste, toothbrush, shampoo? Check, check, no, check, check. Toothpaste . . . now check. Cologne! That was it. Check. Okay, ready.] I'd been packing everything I owned for the past two months. From my collection of 45's, to my high school yearbooks, everything worth taking was packed and loaded on a truck. The last of my clothing, what I'd need until my stuff arrived, I'd just packed. [Sure looks empty now . . . like a ghost town.] All the furniture I owned I'd either sold, given to my parents, or given to charity. I almost cried when I had to give up my favourite rocking chair. My best friend had made it for me, partly to shut me up about wanting one, partly for my birthday. It was made from the most beautiful mahogany, and had been sanded smooth and glossy. I loved that rocker; I'd spent many a night idly rocking away, reading a book or listening to my records. I've never been one much for disks. Sure they're convenient and small, but you lose the beauty of the pops and clicks that gave each record such . . . personality. I had to get rid of my chair because it was too bulky to move all the way to Canada, so I gave it to my parents, making them promise to send it to me some day. Poor Mr. Rogers, my landlord, he was so sad when I told him I was leaving. Unlike most landlords, he was always so nice, almost like a grandfather to me. He hosted an annual Christmas party for all the kids in the building, giving them free hot chocolate on cold days, and getting each and every one a little gift. I always helped him up with his groceries and whatever he might've bought at the Home Depot.
"You know sonny, I'm gonna miss you. I hope things work out for ya." He'd said.
I'd met Ian Lemaire, a wonderful Canadian puma online a few years earlier, but I'd never met him. I lived hundreds of miles away in Los Angeles, so meeting would've been a tad difficult. We chatted for hours on end everyday. We had so much in common, from our love of records to our favourite foods. That is not to say that we were clones. He liked rap music and racing cars, two things I'd never really enjoyed, but could easily get used to. From the first day we learned a lot about each other. I began to have feelings for him, especially because he was such a sweet man. _Apparently the feelings were mutual, because the following day he was hitting on me as we chatted. From there on, we began talking a lot more about our private lives, and our feelings for each other grew. I sent him my photo and he sent me his. He's really cute, and apparently he thought I was too. We went out on e-dates, since a real date was out of the question.
He was about to finish high school, and I still had a long way to go in college. I learned that he was a lonely soul up there in Canada, always passed over for dates and parties because he liked to fiddle with computers and didn't much like sports. Yet, I was nearly the same. The only reason I ever went to parties was that some girls needed a date that wouldn't want anything more afterwards. I wasn't out yet. Good heavens no! That would've been a disaster. My mother was teetering on the edge of homophobia, and my father wasn't the most understanding man in the world. My sister was an ass, always looking for ways to make life miserable, so I hardly thought of her as family._
I had six close friends, but four of them were strictly conservative and religious, so telling them I'm gay would've been a HUGE mistake. The other two said they didn't care who was gay, but didn't hesitate to join in making fun of gays. Thus, I was pretty much alone. Los Angeles is not best known for being gay friendly, especially where college students were involved, so I didn't want to risk being exposed. He was already out to his friends and family, so in that respect he was way ahead of me.
The years passed, and I graduated from college. All throughout we chatted a lot, talking about how nice it would be to live together. From the start, I began to make plans to move to Canada with him. During my senior year, I sent letters to several petrochemical plants up in Sudbury (where he was living) to see if I could get a work Visa, and eventually, Citizenship there. I was very fortunate when one of the plants approved me, and I rushed off to get an application for a Visa. Immediately, I filled out the form and sent it back, hoping that my dreams would soon become reality. It took several months before the reply was sent back. As I held the envelope that would decide my future, I began to worry what would happen if I was denied. I scrounged up enough courage to rip open the packet, and nearly cried for joy when I saw my application had been approved. From there on, my life centered on getting everything ready to move. I sold or gave away everything I wouldn't need anymore, including my trusty Hyundai Elantra. [Heck, it was falling apart anyways!]
I bid my farewell to family and friends, saying I had a good job in Canada, but conveniently leaving out the fact that I had a boyfriend up there. My family tried to convince me to stay, but quickly capitulated when they saw my annual salary. [Hey, it pays to do well in college.] I had talked to a bank up there, and they had truly been impressed by my salary. I was given a loan to buy a small apartment (through a realtor of course) in the suburbs of Sudbury. Everything was ready; I had a home, a job, and a plane ticket. My stuff (what little remained) would be sent by truck behind me, and was due to arrive about a week after me.
The cab ride to the airport was filled with anxiety for me. [I'm gonna meet my boyfriend!] The fare was a little steep, but then again, it's a taxi. After the usual two hour pass through security and emigration, answering "No I'm not a terrorist" fifty times, I had about half an hour 'till my flight left. I decided to make a quick stop at the terminal's jewelry store to buy a little gift for Ian.
"Hello there. I'd like to buy an engagement band. Hopefully something nice and simple, but beautiful." I said, trying to sound as kind as possible to get good service.
"You came to the right place then. If you don't mind me asking, is it a he or a she?" the old lioness behind the counter asked. She was about fifty-five, maybe sixty years old, a little stiff, but sweet. She also had the most amusing British accent.
_Sheepishly, I responded "He. I want to get him something that's not too showy, but that shows I'm not a cheapskate."
She laughed. "I'm sure we have something. Come along. Lets see, mens' engagement bands . . . do you want a set or simply the engagement band?"
"Set?" I was very puzzle by what the heck a set was.
"Engagement and wedding bands." She said with a hint of amusement in her voice.
"Ah, no; just the engagement band. We're not going that far just yet."
"Sure thing. Hope it goes well. Ah! Look here. This is a platinum band, with three princess-cut diamonds, the center is IF and E grade with a fine cut and half a carat; the other two are quarter carat VS-2 H grade fine cut diamons."_
[What in God's name does that even mean?! IF, E cut, VH-2, good God this is harder than I thought.] I was so lost; I wondered if anybody was supposed to know what the hell that meant.
"Uh . . . do you have anything simpler? Like just a band?"
She smiled at me, and moved over about a foot to the next display.
"We have a great selection of bands, from two-tone, gold, silver, platinum, and a few titanium ones. Do you see anything you like?"
"That one, the gold and silver one, no . . . left. That one. Can I see?"
She handed me the band, and I examined it closely. It had an inner gold ring on top of a silver band, and an intricate pattern on the gold. The band itself was heavier than I expected, and was almost a centimeter thick. It looked very nice.
"That one is actually 18k gold surrounded by platinum. It's not silver."
"It's lovely. How much is it?" I asked, seriously considering buying it.
"It's . . . three-thousand, five hundred dollars. Not bad actually."
[Three thousand five hundred! What the fuck?!]
"Oh my God! People actually buy this? Anyway I can get it cheaper?" I asked, almost out of breath from shock.
"Well, it's a very high quality ring. I can get it to you for . . . thirty-two hundred."
"Can't I get it for twenty-five hundred?" I asked, knowing fully well the answer would be no.
"I'm afraid not. We have other bands . . . here, try this one."
She handed me a different band. It was strange but beautiful. Rather than being a solid ring, it resembled a chain, with an inner link of gold connecting between two silver links. It looked just like a chain, but in gold and silver. I loved it.
"This I might get. How much?" I asked, hoping the answer would be a lot less than the one before.
"It's two-thousand dollars."
"Any chance I can get it for say . . . fifteen hundred?" I asked, trying to save as much as I could.
"It's already on sale; we can't lower the price anymore."
"Alright. I'll take it. You do take Mastercard?" I asked worriedly.
"Yes sir. What is his ring size?"
"Uh, I'm not sure. Can I get it resized later?"
"Yes. Just take it to any division of Mondera Jewelers there and we'll do it complimentary. This ring is currently a 10; let me see your hand. Hmm, perfect fit. You have forty-five days to have it resized. Okay, swipe your card . . . your signature . . . here. Alright. You're done! I hope it goes well."
"Thanks. So do I. Have a good day."
Suddenly, an announcement over the PA caught my ear: "All passengers of United 459 non-stop to Greater Sudbury Airport now boarding at gate 10 B."
I waved a final goodbye to the lioness and ran out of the store with my newly purchased band. When I arrived at gate ten about two minutes later, I saw a short line, apparently the last of the passengers. I handed the cute feline my boarding pass, and went in, shaking a little as I thought about what was happening. I showed my pass to one of the attendants, a nice looking wolf (wearing rather tight pants), who kindly pointed out my seat. I hadn't gotten first class, but rather my dad had used his frequent flyer miles to book me into business class, so it wasn't bad. As I sat down, I couldn't help but wonder what life would be like from now on.
The flight was rather uneventful. We took off, my stomach churned a little at the sudden acceleration, but that was it. We were given 'lunch', a cold ham sandwich and soda, and I headed to the lavatory. I resisted the urge to jack off, since I was a bit paranoid that a secret camera would record my activities for the in-flight movie. After about six and a half hours of flying, we descended and landed at a snowy yet very congested airport. After the usual round through immigration and security, answering the usual questions to very bored (and sometimes overweight) officials, and waiting for my baggage to be spewed out, I walked out of the terminal to the first hour of my new life.
"Where to?" asked the taxi driver, a middle aged husky with definite Russian background.
"59 Eastfield Avenue please."
"Here in Sudbury?"
"Yeah."
He punched a few keys on his screen, and a map appeared, similar to the one I saw online. He began to pull away from the airport, and I smiled all the way to my new home. It took roughly forty-five minutes, and another steep taxi fine (this time with fun Canadian money, its multicolored!) to get there. It was just like the photos I'd seen. It was a lovely little colonial apartment complex; painted a nice white with dark blue accents, a lovely little lawn, and a cobblestone path to the entrances. [It's just as I hoped; perfect.] Of course I was gonna be paying this for a good long while, and the ring for the next two or three years, but it was all worth it.
A week later, I was already at work, and at home was unpacking what little furniture I'd saved (the truck had arrived the day before). I still hadn't gone to meet Ian; I wanted to be ready before I went to see him. Poor Ian, I hadn't told him I'd moved. As far as he knew, I was still in the States, chatting with him from hundreds of miles away. What he didn't know was that I was actually twenty minutes away. So far, I'd been forced to use public transportation to get to work and back, seeing as how I had no car.
It was a Friday, my favourite day, and I was at home going through my mail when I saw an envelope from my dad and grandpa. It had apparently been sent yesterday through express delivery, since it had a bunch of stamps and seals on it saying so. It also had a huge stamp that I couldn't quite understand, but made it look very official. [Heh, it even passed through the Colombian Embassy here.] I opened it, and pulled out several papers. I began to read the first one, a letter, and saw it was pretty much "Hey son, how are you doing? We miss you. I have a little gift for you. Blah blah blah." It was nice to know they hadn't forgotten me, but he liked to talk a lot, so most of the letter was pretty much repetitive. The next paper was a letter from my grandpa in Colombia (in Spanish of course), saying pretty much the same. He said that he had a gift for me, and had to send it first to my dad, then to me. I was a little confused by the line "Don't throw it away." I put the two letters down, and unfolded the third. I almost dropped dead right there.
"Ahhh!!!!"
The third paper was a certified check, issued by the Bank of the Republic of Colombia to my name. Certified worth: 30,000 Canadian dollars. [Holy shit!] A fourth paper, a little post-it note read:
"Consideralo un adelante de herencia. Te amamos, tu padre y abuelo."
{Consider it an advance of your inheritance. We love you, your father and grandfather.}
I couldn't believe it. This couldn't possibly have been real. I pinched myself several times, hoping that I wouldn't wake up. [Come on, be real. Ow! I should make sure . . . Ow! Ow! Ow!!! Okay, it's real.] I was sweating like a pig at this point. I mean, I know my family was kinda rich; my dad had a penthouse in Miami, a farm in Texas, an estate in Palos Verdes, and my grandpa had a farm in Colombia, a house in the capital, and who knows what other property; but still . . . Holy Crap! Thirty thousand dollars! Naturally, after dancing around my empty house and scaring the neighbors with a bit of yelling here and there, I ran to the bank to deposit it. I had opened an account for work here, but I only had a couple dollars left. Imagine the teller's shock when she saw the amount. I was immediately hurried out of the line and brought into the manager's office, where a rather burly tiger shook hands with me, and treated me as if we'd been friends for ages.
"Mr. Andrews, let me be the first to say that we are proud to be your bank, and assure you that as we speak the check is being authenticated for the immediate transferal to your account. Could I interest you in a cigar?" he asked as he extended a heavily decorated cigar box at me.
"No thanks, I don't smoke."
"Excellent policy, these things will kill you. Very wise of you."
-Bzzt!- "Mr. Owen, the check has been authenticated. The transaction is complete. Please inform Mr. Andrews the funds are now available." the lady from intercom said.
"Congratulations Mr. Andrews! It's a pleasure dealing with you. I hope we'll have a chance to speak again." he said very enthusiastically.
[It's a shame I'll have to burst his bubble when I buy the car. If he thinks I'll be depositing another thirty-thousand anytime soon he's got another thing coming.] I bid my farewell to Mr. Owen, and headed out to buy myself a Civic.
[Well, that was fun . . . not.] Four hours at a Honda dealership will really drain you of any enthusiasm you might have. Good news, I bought myself the Civic I wanted, a Hybrid. [Yeah! Let's hear it for saving on gas.] Funny thing about money was easy come, easy go. The car was about 25,000, give or take a few hundred. The rest of the money I'd used to pay back part of my loan (and the ring), and in the end, I had about a hundred dollars in my account. And I was again way deep in debt, just like everyone else. I decided to go home, have a good night's sleep on my mattress, rather than that lumpy old cot I've been using, and use the weekend to my advantage.
By the time I got home it was dark and cold, and I was bloody tired. I still had to move the mattress to my room, which took longer than I'd hoped. [Bloody thing had to be so heavy.] Finally, after an hour of searching for a blanket and a pillow, I collapsed onto the mattress, said my prayers and gave my thanks, and promptly fell asleep.
-Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!- ". . . now with less sugar! Only 13 g per serving."
[This cereal is boring. Who ever thought of naming this "Yummy Chummy" should be shot.] Not that the cereal was bad, mind you, it just lacked interest. It wasn't very sweet, but it did have crunch, I'll give you that. I was reading the cereal box during breakfast, since I was so incredibly bored.
It'd been about a month since I arrived. What little furniture I had was already unpacked, and my first paycheck had already arrived. The date was December 5, Ian's birthday, and I was gonna give him one hell of a present. I went to my computer to chat with Ian a little.
"Hey Sweety, Happy Birthday!"
"Thanks Love. How are you?"
"Great, I've gotta go in a little while, so I just wanna ask, are you going anywhere today?"
"No, not really. I was gonna stay home with my sister. My parents already came over with my brother, but they're leaving in about an hour. Why?"
"I sent you a little something. Should be there after lunch."
"Thanks Love, you know you didn't have to. What is it?"
"I know, but I wanted to. I've gotta go. See you later?"
"Yeah. Have a good day Darling."
[He doesn't suspect a thing . . . perfect.] I ran to the shower, and quickly bathed myself. I lathered up, making sure to get all of my body soapy. [Don't wanna smell bad for today.] I quickly let the warm water rinse my fur. I stepped out and did my best to dry myself, but when you're covered in hair, that's almost impossible. The result: my shirt got a little damp, along with my underwear, but that's okay. I put on my usual clothes, just a plain t-shirt and pair of jeans, and ran out the door. I pulled out a piece of paper from my pocket, the directions to Ian's apartment, and tried to make heads or tails of how to get there.
[52 Victoria Lane . . . 55 Victoria Lane . . . 72 Victoria Lane . . . Where the hell is 89 Victoria Lane? That's a warehouse. Okay, 89 is a warehouse. Where is it? Hmm, oh crap! The directions say 89 Victoria Lake. What the hell is that squiggle next to it?! I'd better ask.] I rolled down my window, and stuck my head out to ask the St. Bernard up ahead.
"Excuse me sir. Do you know where Victoria Lake, the street, is?"
"Victoria Lake Boulevard? That's the only one I know."
"Uhh . . . I think so. Yeah, I guess it is. How can I get there?"
"Okay, keep going, about four blocks down or the first light, take a left. Keep going 'till you get to Victoria Lake. Alright?"
"That was left at the first light, keep going until I get there. Okay, thanks a lot."
I followed the instructions, and after about fifteen minutes, I was at Victoria Lake, not 'Lane', and soon found number 89. [At least it's an apartment this time.] I parked my car and jumped out with the bouquet in my hand and the ring in my pocket. With each step, my heart beat faster. If I didn't calm down soon I was gonna have a heart attack. [Alright, number two. Here goes nothing.]
-Knock! Knock! Knock!-
"Who is it?" I heard a female, presumably his sister, ask.
"Delivery for Mr. Ian Lemaire. I need to deliver this personally to him." I said, trying to sound as convincing as possible.
"Okay. -Screaming- Ian, door!"
"Hold on. Who is it?"
[My god, that's him! His voice sounds cute. Ooh, I can't wait!]
"Some delivery guy. It's for you."
"Okay, I'll be there in a sec." I heard him yell out excitedly.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and I saw him. He was every bit as beautiful as the photo he'd sent me. He wasn't buff, nor chubby; just right if you ask me. His lovely crème colored fur was a little damp, like he'd just stepped out of the shower. He was wearing a pair of rectangular glasses that were rapidly darkening in the sunlight. He was wearing a pair of blue shorts and a grey shirt; he looked perfect.
"Thomas! What the . . . How- how did you . . . Why didn't you tell me you were here?! Oh my God. Laurie! Get over here!"
[He sounds so cute.] I just smiled and waited for the shock to die down. His sister rushed over, looking a little worried.
"Remember Thomas, my boyfriend? The one I told you about? He's him! He came here already! Oh my God, you're here!"
With that, he threw himself at me, and hugged me so hard I couldn't breathe. [He's stronger than he looks!] I put my arms around him, enjoying the softness of his fur. He started to purr, and that tickled me all over. I was quickly running out of air, so I had to push against him. He let go, and I gasped, feeling the sweet relief of air hitting my lungs.
"Sweety, I love you too but I need to breathe. Now get back here."
I pulled him back into a loving embrace, locking my lips against his. I felt his lips part, making way for my tongue to enter his maw. Our rough tongues met halfway into each other's muzzle. The feeling of his tongue against mine sent shivers running down my spine. I'd be hard pressed to describe the taste of his mouth; maybe blueberries? [He must've been eating some.] I did my best to wrestle his tongue as they do in the movies, but I couldn't quite get it right. Still, that first kiss was wonderful. The flowers I'd been holding got a little crushed, so I handed them to the smiling sister.
"Wow! Oh this is the best present ever! When do you have to leave again?"
"Oh . . . about fifty to seventy years with any luck."
"What? You mean . . . you're staying!"
He threw himself at me again, knocking me to the floor and hardly letting me breathe once more. [Thank God this is the first floor!] I hugged back just as hard, nuzzling my nose against his neck. I rubbed up and down his back, loving the slightly damp fur. His purring just got louder, and I started purring too. Both of us were purring really loudly, almost sounded like a lawn mower.
"Mm, Sweety, wanna go out to dinner?"
"More of my present eh?"
"Yup. So, wanna go?"
"Yeah. Ooh, wanna go to KFC like we said online?"
"You don't wanna eat somewhere fancy?"
"Nah, we can eat popcorn chicken and a pizza here. We can cuddle and share stuff eh?"
"Only if I get to pop the chicken into your mouth."
"Sure. Where are we gonna eat?"
"How about my place?"
"Really? How big is it?"
"It's a little small, but bigger than yours from what you told me. I kinda don't have a real bed right now, just a mattress and sheets, and a little TV, but I'd love to spend the night with you. What'd you say?"
"Honey I'd love to."
We walked to my car holding hands, talking about what we'd done recently, stealing a kiss every few steps. I was so happy; for the first time in my life I could truly express my feelings for someone. We got in, and drove away smiling, looking for a KFC to buy some of their delectable popcorn chicken.
The sun had already gone down by the time we got home. Getting lost going to Ian's home and back to mine had taken up several hours. I pulled Ian along by the hand as I climbed the stairs. I opened the door, and made a grand sweeping gesture as I spoke.
"This is it. Not much, like I said, but hopefully it'll be our little home." I said, hinting with my voice at what I meant.
"Are you inviting me to stay then?"
I got down on one knee, and pulled out the band from my pocket. I looked up at him, and saw he was smiling from ear to ear. I Put my hands forth, and opened the ring case towards him.
"Ian, will you be my boyfriend?"
"Of course I will!"
I got up and wrapped my arms around him. He responded the same way. We held each other close, pressing our bodies close as if trying to become one. He put his muzzle against mine, and I felt his tongue press its way into my maw. I opened up and pushed mine forth, letting it rub against his. I ran my hands up and down his chest, reaching under his shirt to run my claws through his fur, eliciting a shiver from my lover. He did the same, making me moan within our kiss. I rubbed my tongue against his teeth, enjoying the pearly texture, a stark contrast against the roughness of his tongue. We let go for a moment, and I took the ring out of its case. I tenderly held his hand, and slowly slid the ring onto his finger. I grabbed his other hand, and held them tight. When I looked up at his eyes, I saw tears streaming down his fur, matting it down somewhat. I pulled him close to me, and pressed my cheek against his. At that point, I began to cry too; I was so happy, happier than I'd ever been. I led Ian to what one day would be our room, and gently laid him down on the mattress. I went back to the living room and grabbed the bag of food we'd left there. I went back to Ian, sat down next to him, and reached around to pull him into a kiss. As I rubbed his chest, my stomach began to growl. I let go of Ian, and he did the same.
"Guess we should eat eh?" he said, adding in that adorable Canadian 'eh'.
"Maybe."
I opened up the bag, and the smells of fried chicken filled our noses, making our mouths drool. We'd bought a party size popcorn chicken, a box of biscuits, some BBQ wings and two Pepsis. I was starving, considering all I'd eaten were some Yummy Chummy's, so I dove right into the wings to take the edge off my hunger. _The wings were sweet and tangy, and just crunchy enough. The BBQ sauce also left a bit of tingling on my tongue, signaling it's just spicy enough.
"Leave some for me!" Ian said, apparently worried I'd eat all of them.
"Mine." I said playfully, just to tease him.
I ate three of the tangy wings, and Ian ate two. We lay back against the wall, and began to eat the popcorn chicken. The little crunchlets are addictive; you try one and you can't stop. I grabbed a handful, and picked one up between my index and thumb. Rather than pop it into my own mouth, I moved it near Ian's maw, and slipped it in. Anyone looking at us would be reminded of a servant feeding his master grapes, except I wasn't doing this out of subservience, but because I love him. He began to purr again, and put his hands behind his head. He looked so cute like that. I kept slipping the little chicken pieces into his waiting maw, and in no time my fingers were coated in a thin layer of his saliva. Most people would've just wiped it off, but seeing how I'd already sucked on those luscious lips of his, I just picked up another chicken, popped it in my mouth, and licked off the remaining crumbs and saliva. [After all, he IS my boyfriend.] It tasted the same, but I moaned with faked pleasure just for the silliness of it all. And it worked, Ian chuckled a little._
"You like the taste eh?"
"Yup, tastes just like chicken."
"Heh, let's finish up the chicken, then we can play around."
We quickly scarfed down the rest of the chicken crunchies. I felt so full; I swear I could've burst.
"Mm, that was good eh?"
"Yeah, especially since you're here." I said as I rubbed his arm.
"That's so sweet. I love you."
"I love you too Sweety."
It was getting a bit stuffy in there, so I took off my shirt and pants, and threw them as far as I could. I was wearing a regular pair of boxer briefs, light blue. Ian chuckled a bit and did the same. He placed his thumbs inside his pants and pulled down, and I saw a hint of black on his golden fur. [He is not wearing . . . he is!]
"Ian! You're wearing the thong?!" I asked incredulously.
"You got it for me. I wear it every birthday." he said with a smile on his face.
"You look so hot in it. -pause- I'm so happy; I just wanna be with you until the day I die."
"That is so sweet; so do I. I love you so much."
"I love you too. I wonder where I put my collar . . ."
He laughed. I got on my knees and crawled over to him. I rubbed my head against his neck, purring loudly as I did. I couldn't think of any place in the world I'd rather be than here with my boyfriend. Ian began to purr too, and began to run his claws through my fur. That sent jolts of electricity through my skin. I looked up into his eyes, and I felt like melting under his gaze. Tears began to form in my eyes, and I blinked a few times to clear my view. Ian put his hand under my chin, and lifted my head to his. He leaned forward, and I closed my eyes, waiting for his lips to touch mine. I felt his hot breath upon my whiskers. I could smell a hint of chicken, but considering how much we just ate, that's not surprising. His lips met mine, and I again felt his tongue pushing against my mouth. Again, I offered no resistance, and slipped my own tongue forth to wrestle his. I opened my eyes again, but couldn't see Ian, so I closed them again. I ran my tongue all over his, enjoying the slight tanginess of the BBQ sauce and chicken, which I'm sure he could taste in my mouth. We broke the kiss and I put my hand on the side of his muzzle. I moved my hand up, and slowly lifted his glasses off. With or without them, he was beautiful. I reached out as far as I could, and dropped them onto the carpet since I didn't have a table.
"Are we gonna sleep here?"
"If it's okay with you. I'm sorry I don't really have a bed, but this isn't bad." I said trying to sound hopeful.
"It's perfect dear. Don't worry. We can move my bed here tomorrow."
"You mean you're staying?"
"Yup."
"I love you." I said as I hugged him tightly.
"I love you too dear."
I got up and turned off the light. I came back and lay down next to Ian. We turned to face each other, and kissed one final time. He turned around and I moved up closer to him, pressing his back against my chest. I began to rub his chest and stomach, and pulled him as close to me as I could. We were both purring softly as we drifted into sleep. Just before my consciousness slipped away, I lifted my head close to his ear.
"Sleep well, my Sweet."