The

  steppes were indeed bare, but there were always a few hummocks and

  copses where motivated foxes could hide if hunting, war or... any other

  necessity required it.

  After

  leaving Fileniou, the two young foxes ran with ease a good distance

  from the village. Racing, whirling and chasing each other again, Pastel

  grabbed Tamo and they rolled into the tall grass, which now concealed

  them. The sun and clouds were their only witnesses.

  Pastel

  immobilized Tamo's arms, sat on his chest and immediately kissed him.

  Their tongues tangled, their mouths crossed. Their breaths loud. Pastel

  turned his attention to Tamo's ears, nibbling them gently, before moving

  down to his warm neck, seizing him full in the mouth. Tamo felt his

  prison of warm, moist flesh squeezing him, as Pastel pressed his body

  against Tamo's own. He grunted and tried to free himself, but Pastel

  tightened his grip with two vigorous movements, slid his legs under

  Tamo's and lifted them up.

  Tamo

  felt something warm and wet pressing against his ass. He sighed, "Kiss

  me!"Pastel offered him a kiss as he thrust his hard sex into his friend,

  whose moan was lost in Pastel's mouth. The red fox had gradually

  released Tamo's wrists and instead clung to his shoulders as Tamo clung

  to his back.

  Pastel

  plunged again and again into the other, deep in their grassy alcove.

  Their moans turned to growls of pleasure, as they alternated between

  kissing and biting. Fangs against skin, claws in fur, tongues against

  tongues. Their embrace was as passionate as it was violent, feverish.

  Feverish

  with the adrenalin of combat, of their competitiveness. Feverish with

  desire and love. Pastel's sex, as black as his skin, appeared and

  disappeared rapidly, losing itself in the other. All that could be seen

  was its glistening, veiny sheen over and over again. Tamo felt every

  inch of it. He occluded his pelvis and sometimes contracted his anus,

  the better to feel Pastel's rigid, pulsating sex. Their breaths

  quickened, their grunts turned into squeaks. Pastel, eyes closed, seemed

  close to cumming when Tamo pushed him sideways, provoking a cry of

  surprise and frustration, as a turgid sex erupted into the open,

  spraying a jet of precum onto the grass.

  "What

  the...ah!" Pastel said as Tamo tried to turn him over. They struggled,

  yelping and grunting, their sex brushing against each other. Tamo

  suddenly immobilized Pastel on his belly and thrust his pink penis into

  Pastel, who groaned in pain and pleasure. Tamo climbed up on all fours,

  laying on top of the other, grabbing him with all his arms and nibbling

  his ear before whispering, "You're dead."

  He

  plundered him with all his might. The strokes of his wide sex, sliding

  and pounding inside Pastel took his breath away, so intense were the

  sensations. Soon, through no fault of his own, pleasure exploded through

  his body, leaving him perfectly vulnerable as he ejaculated profusely

  into the grass. A few seconds later and a little more hip thrusting,

  Tamo followed with a sigh. They collapsed to the ground.

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  "Monster! I was this close to filling you!"

  "But you liked it, didn't you? Admit you liked it?"

  "Pfff. I couldn't wait to stuff you. It was my turn!"

  "You can stuff me next time! But I know you like it."

  "You surprised me..."

  "Isn't that the way we love each other?"

  "That's how we love each other." Pastel sighed.

  Around

  them, crickets and wind. Pastel turned to his friend and hugged him. He

  thought back to the sound of hooves and the dance of sabers. His heart

  tightened. "This can't be happening." Pastel thought, his muzzle in the

  other's fur. "This can't be the end of times. I don't want this moment

  to end." Pastel squeezed even harder. He could feel the warm, muscular

  body against him.

  "What are we going to do?" Pastel asked simply.

  "We're

  going to fight. We're ready, we know these steppes. Any one of us could

  walk these hills with our eyes closed and never get lost. You can't

  chase us out of here any more than you can chase the clouds out of here.

  I don't see how they could. We've already started preparing hiding

  places in the bushes for ambushes, we're digging trenches, the herds

  have been retreated to the west, our beasts are in great shape, our

  weapons sharpened... and all the allied clans, this will be the

  opportunity to put behind us our grudges and various ridiculousnesses to

  unite for the future of the cradle foxes! Imagine all the foxes we

  haven't met yet? I've always dreamed of discovering the fishing foxes or

  the northern clans".

  His

  friend's enthusiasm and optimism were contagious. It all seemed so

  unreal, what could they do but hope. "Imagine all we can learn from each

  other... their hunting techniques, their flora, bears, ancient

  ruins.... And Mamalou's trouble is easily explained, if she saw the

  first steppe war since time immemorial. The end of history represents

  the end of a long quiet river and the beginning of a new story."

  "

  There! It's almost good news after all, this war." Tamo exclaimed. They

  laughed, but this laughter didn't have the same texture, the same

  lightness of their earlier laughter. Rather than their words, it was

  their nervous laughter that betrayed their fear. Pastel imagined Tamo on

  a battlefield, charging forth on his steed, sword in hand.

  "Tamo?"

  "Already?" Pastel rubbed his sex into her friend's fur.

  They

  resumed their lovemaking, more gently this time. Pastel stretched out

  on the floor and Tamo climbed on top of him, easily sliding his cock

  into his still relaxed anus. He sighed at ease, the black sex back deep

  inside him. He undulated his pelvis, gently sliding the penis into him

  repeatedly, pressing against his prostate. Pleasure rose gently like

  ephemeral rivers in a storm. He leaned forward. Tongue against tongue,

  flesh against flesh. Pastel grasped his friend's buttocks and pounded

  his bottom. He slid his hand further in, to feel his sex moving into the

  other, in and out. He gently inserted a finger into Tamo's anus,

  stretching it further. His desire was burning again.

  Pastel

  didn't want this moment to end. He wanted his pleasure to rise

  endlessly, in infinite waves, forever caressing, in indomitable cycles,

  their eternal coitus like that of clouds and steppes. Alas, they didn't

  know that this was their last coitus before the history of the steppes

  was forever disrupted.