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her hands, the clinging wetness around my cock, and the teeth at my throat, the more my thoughts turned to Sir Jiat. How did males fuck? How would it feel to thrust into him... or him into me? Would his teeth be as sharp as they looked, or would he be gentle with me? Would his tail thump against the bed or wrap around my body?
    "Ewan!" Syra gasped against my ear, the quick, moist sound of our bodies rushing back to me. "So thick... by the gods, yes, like that!"
    At least I was doing well. I was doing it right. There was no mistake; it felt good, but it wasn't all I'd thought it would be. I thrust hard, fast, urged by Syra's hands and her cries. The pleasure built to a fevered pitch, and then my body jerked, trembled as a choked cry fell from my lips. It was all the wonderful things in my life: the heat of the sun, the warmth of grass, the sweet tang of a summer berry. I would never forget that feeling, the rush it brought as my balls emptied their seed into Syra's quivering body. Her nails raked down my back, and I hissed as I rode out her bucking and squirming.
    We panted, glued together in those moments by musk and fluids and sweat. Syra wore a dazed, pleased expression, and as my cock ceased its spasms, a heaviness fell upon me. I wanted to roll over and sleep the afternoon away, and since Sir Jiat hadn't told me I couldn't, I did just that. I withdrew myself and flopped beside her on the soft bed, and her arms embraced me as she curled against my body. It was pleasant enough, enjoyable. Still, as my heart slowly calmed in my chest, it felt off. Something was missing. Something hadn't been quite right. I knew what it was as I nuzzled Syra's head. Syra wasn't Sir Jiat. Sir Jiat was the one my thoughts turned to in that moment of pleasure, but that desire was forbidden. I would never know how Sir Jiat's tongue would feel against my skin, or if Sir Jiat purred in the aftermath of release.
    It was with Sir Jiat's eyes in my mind that I fell into dreams. Dreams littered with white fur, a soft, wet nose, and a rumbling purr that put my fears to rest. When I woke, I was alone in the bed, my body aching with need once more. I remained there until the worst of the hardness abated, and then I rose from the bed and padded out into the hallway. The shadows were long, the house quiet. My feet carried me silently from the guest bedroom to the master bedroom, and I paused outside the half-closed door. Was I supposed to come looking for Sir Jiat? Or was I to remain in the other bedroom? I shifted from foot to foot, uncertain.
    "Come in, Ewan."
    Sir Jiat's voice, that deep almost-growl, wrapped around me, and I pushed into the room. He was alone on his bed, tail curled around him as he paged through a book. I couldn't read, but some nights, Sir Jiat read to me. I paused at the foot of his bed. "I didn't know if I should stay in the other bedroom, Master."
    His muzzle cracked into a smile. "Only if you don't want to sleep with me after your first tumble."
    I shook my head. "No. I don't want to sleep alone." I climbed onto the bed, settled under the blankets at the footboard. "If I may ask, where is Syra?"
    The fluffy white tip of Sir Jiat's tail twitched against the counterpane. "You were sleeping soundly, and Cana had to return home to her husband. You will see Syra again. Cana will bring her back in six days."
    Another afternoon with Syra. I shifted on the bed, fidgeting with a loose thread on the counterpane. As much as I appreciated Sir Jiat's offer, I didn't want another afternoon with a female I didn't know. I wanted him . I looked up at Sir Jiat. "I... forgive me, and I don't mean offense, but..."
    Sir Jiat reached out and let his hand run down my back. "Tell me, Ewan. No need to fear."
    "I don't want to fuck Syra again." A flush moved warmly over my face. "I mean no disrespect—"
    "Did you not like her?"
    I looked up at my master, confused. "It was... pleasurable. Enjoyable. But... it wasn't..." How did I explain that it wasn't