Campfires

The tent was small, and close. Shomron let the flap drop behind him, sealing out the wet world of the sudden rainstorm. His fur was only speckled with raindrops that were nowhere close to his skin. As he stood still inside the tent and brushed them away, the young cheetah was aware of a natural heat all about him. Shalimar was so big that his body heat alone warmed the entire inside of the tent, driving away the clinging dampness of the weather beyond their canvas house. Shomron reached over and took a towel from the camp stool in the corner. As the young cheetah swept away the last of the annoying water on his fur, the lean bipedal cat looked at the leonine friend, sleeping peacefully on the thickly padded sleeping mat that was the floor of the tent. Even is the subdued glow that came from the lantern, Shalimar seemed to fluoresce a gentle whiteness that gave the young lion the same glow that Shomron seemed to see and sense whenever he looked at Shalimar.

Outside, there was a peel of thunder and a throaty boom. The sound of raindrops on the windward side of the lean to that protected the tent became a steady , thrashing drumbeat, as the sky seemed to pour out a river right over their heads. A leak check found nothing, and took Shomron's eyes from Shalimar for only a moment. The lion's intellect was as sharp with practical matters as it was machine like with the stars now stolen away by storm. The tent seams were sealed with layers of beeswax. Thin and flexible, it would seal out the water as effectively as the downpour had sealed him in the tent.

To anyone but Shomron, such a fate might be a sentence to a dreadful monotony. An entire night locked away with the caprice of the storm as a fickle warden. But Shomron's parole was instantly granted when the young cheetah realized that this also meant a night close to Shalimar.

Their waking nights together in the hectic week past had been filled with quiet moments, where the only witness to their words were the tactless stands of trees. Nights too were filled to the point of sleeplessness with words great and small, casual and deep, as the two friends from cub hood recounted one to the other every day and hour of a long, miserable six weeks of forced separation. Shomron treasured every moment they shared as if it was new, and a gift from he powers that moved the stars. Each one of them salved the searing wound of fear that the lean cheetah endured as the two were torn from one another, separated for the first time since the two and stood and walked as newborn kit and cub. The awful ulcer he could sense gnawing at his soul was only now beginning to heal, under the sweet caring that seemed to pour from Shalimar like the rainstorm from the sky the moment they were re-united.

Now, asleep or awake, Shomron constantly renewed his own promise to himself to never be farther away from Shalimar than one of his leaps could take him. Shomron sighed softly, and knelt on the floor of the tent.

There was something about Shalimar. It went deeper than his mind, or the huge white body he seemed to have grown into over the last few months. Whenever the young lion looked at him, Shomron felt something move, deep inside him. It had always been that way. One of Shomron's deepest terrors was that they might grow apart from one another during their separation. Shalimar's huge hug at the docks had crushed out that half-baked idea, together with a mutual purr that left ripples in the water around the ramshakled Simian docks. Not a word had passed between them. The look in Shalimar's eyes was all Shomron needed. Their trek into the woodlands had been planed for months, and the pair of fur-bearers had walked away from the Nexus and all their cares, save for one another.

Shomron rejoiced in the rain, because it gave him the chance to be close to Shalimar again. He might have just laid down, giving in the rest of the night to being both glad and tired. But moments like these were special to him. He looked at the handsome young lion with hungry eyes, and cursed himself, pushing the unfulfilled part of himself down deeper inside. He had hoped to tell Shalimar this trip. To say those simple words, and so much that went with them. The only thing that let him survive Simian indoctrination was the hope that he would see Shalimar again. He had bargained with himself, exacting a promise that the first thing he would say would be the truth of his heart, but Shalimar's joyous expression and the emotion of the moment had stolen his ability to speak. It was an ecstatic torture to be so close to him, to be able to see all of him, as open at rest as he was awake. Shomron put a gentle paw on Shalimar's ribcage, and relished the sensation of the gentle rise and fall of that beautiful chest and the sleek body. Shomron felt his chest tighten, and his paw quiver as he sleeked Shalimar's soft new mane fur. The young cheetah wasn't the only one changing with time. There wasn't a single follicle of vanity in all of Shalimar, yet Shomron had noticed the difference in Shalimar's bearing, and the seemingly casual head shake that came with the odd sensation of a mass of fur around one's neck. Now, he could satisfy a curiosity that a simple touch could not. Cheetah paws plunged deeply into the soft crop of new fur, finding it thick and full, rather than stiff and unruly, as it had been when the two were parted. Shalimar had laid for hours, his huge head in Shomron's lap, while the cheetah had curried and brushed the clumps of sprouting fur on the lion's neck, urging them to a full softness. It had paid dividends Shomron could
feel. Shalimar's mane was full, warm and soft. The fur had also thickened, into the natural armor it was intended to be. If possible, it made the white lion look all the more regal.

Shomron's paws moved over Shalimar's body with a touch born of knowledge and curiosity. Shalimar was as wonderfully open with his body. It was a quiet statement about the confidence that came with Shalimar's gifts, both metal and physical. The lion's absolute trust in his best friend was the deepest and most wonderful gift of all. Shomron could let his paws wander freely over his soul mate, and as they moved, Shomron took inventory of what was for him, a new body. Shalimar's ribs had always been as thick as hull spars, founding a torso thicker than most trees. Now there were heavy ripples of muscle, along those ribs. Shalimar's softest breaths rolled them like waves across the beach. Shomron was utterly mesmerized, watching, and feeling the exquisite craftsmanship of muscle and fur in powerful and gentle display, just like their owner. Inside, Shomron's heart soared, not with some selfish gratification, but with the quiet joy of vindication. Despite his gifts, or rather in spite of them, season after season of grinding Simian jeers and outrageous insults had left Shalimar with a low self image. To Shomron's adoring eyes and keen mind, this was utter nonsense. As kit and cub young Shomron could remember looking first and deepest at young Shalimar's oversized paws. Now, as older Shomron gently picked up the closest of Shalimar's huge forepaws, his own words as a kit came flying back to the same muzzle that had whispered them in total awe not so very long ago. They had play pounced one another on sight, and Shalimar's big paws pinned the young cheetah almost at once. As he had then, Shomron pressed the lion paw to his chest, and folding his arms around it he whispered "You're handsome. Wanna be my Friend?" That moment was the real beginning of Shomron's memory, and of his life's heart. Since then, they had grown together in life and heart. Friendship was instantaneous, and had only deepened with the passage of time, and Simians. Shalimar had become even more handsome and powerful with each season. His mind and his looks now began to grant him statue in the small community of Fur-Bearers, in spite of Simian efforts to the contrary. Their relationship ran so much deeper than simple friendship that only one concept remained that would or could give it expression with as deep a meaning as both knew and understood. Shomron had sensed from first sight what time and nature was now proving in Shalimar. Passage and proof aside, one single word stood understood but always unspoken between them. It was there, as real and solid as each was to the other, but rendered to a certain transparency for the lack of one single word, mutually spoken.

They had come so close on that awful, wonderful night a month and a half distant and what now seemed a lifetime ago. Shomron was leaving him for the first time in his life, and the young cheetah had spent days on end drinking tension and eating worry. The thought of Simian indoctrination didn't frighten him. Whips, chains and slavery was all Constructs could expect from Simians. Shomron knew he would come back, unlike many another exposed to life's first encounter with unsheltered reality of a Simian dominated world. Shomron had something and someone to fight through for and return to. Yet another treasure from Shalimar's huge, kind heart. Shomron's secret dread was that he would return so altered by the intended harshness of the Simian camps that he would find that which he valued above all changed in turn. Shalimar's Father and Mother had understood from the first moment the bonding between their natural son and the young Construct. They had become Shomron's second family. That night, the elder lions arranged to leave the two alone together. The awful day to come was forgotten, in a single night that became their whole lives. Shalimar fed Shomron a simple dinner. Slices from a haunch of meat held floating in the air in front of the young cheetah's muzzle. Shomron ate with a mixture of gusto and wonder, as his favorite lion gave him a display of abilities that could someday move entire planets. Shomron's evening was made all the more unique by the gesture that followed. Shalimar could snap whole ribs from the carcass without effort. When the white lion set his plate down before Shomron, and allowed the cheetah to feed him from paw to muzzle, it was at once the most powerful and the most tender statement that Shalimar could make. As Shalimar's tongue gently and thoroughly cleaned Shomron's paw after each morsel, there was a power and sensuality in the simplicity that made Shomron light headed with joy.

Toward the end of the plate, Shomron broke down and wept, loosing the plate as the cheetah simply wove himself as deeply as he could into the larger white quadruped. Shalimar's shell not only cracked, but shattered completely and in moments, they were wrapped in one another, paws, tails, hearts, and soul. Their tears kept away the dull words, but as they drank one another in through eyes and hearts, the two of them touched and joined in a moment of utter devotion. They held one another, sleeping and awake through the night and long after the sunrise that Shomron dreaded so much. Shalimar body washed the young cheetah with his tender tongue, just as he had washed the cheetah paws at mealtime. By the time the young cheetah was forced to leave Shalimar, Shomron had not a care in all the stars, for he was beyond certain that he and Shalimar shared heart and soul, as well as friendship and meals.

That memory made the next month and a half survivable. Shomron discovered he could displace his mind from the body tortured by back breaking labor for the Simians. Armored in that memory, Shomron's mind, heart and soul survived. Now, Once more, the memory and Shalimar's presence drove away the chilling dampness. The warm air was thick with the scent of lion. Shomron drew a deep breath and locked away his most precious memory once more.

The time away had changed him. Awakened him. Sylmar had seen to that in his turn, as much as Shalimar. Keeling there before the lion of his soul, Shomron longed for Shalimar in so many ways, while sharing and knowing him in ways that no other heart ever would. The complexity of it all was a heartbreak for Shomron, because there was so much at risk. His own life and soul lay there, poured so willingly into that magnificent white vessel. Nothing meant more to him in that moment than Shalimar, but an equal distance held Shomron at bay.

Running from the problem, Shomron was still in body as he allowed another part of his mind to take control. That part of himself was uncomplicated, impractical, and slightly base. Shomron allowed just that portion of himself to feast on the male lion who lay wide open before him. Shomron had been trying to ignore them as his higher mind fought the bitter battles of mental trench warfare with himself. Now, the young cheetah found that his mind could not sustain a two-front war against himself, so Shomron surrendered, slowly and inevitably to the lower parts of himself so his mind and heart could settle higher matters.

Yes, he loved Shalimar. Heart, soul and more. So there was nothing wrong with the other admission that Shomron had made over so many nights, in so many places.

He wanted Shalimar.

As a male, and as a lion. He wanted to be Shalimar's lover as well as his soul mate.

The admission seemed to vent some of the tension, although Shomron had known it from the moment he understood what sex and sexual desires were and could be. Even though the admission had come with Shalimar unable to answer once more, it gave Shomron a gateway, through which spilled all of his other repressed thoughts about his Soul mate.

Shomron took advantage of these moments to look long, and deep at Shalimar. He did that while the lion was awake, too, but could never let himself be caught starring, as he often did. Shalimar was all lion., and their time apart had changed the white lion as much as it had the young cheetah.

Shomron couldn't help but let his vision followed the lines of the lion's body. It was gently layered with muscle that was new and wonderful to see. Growth was adding power along with sleekness to the fine white body. Shalimar's self image had never matched the far sight of his wonderful mind. He often remarked that he was plain, but in Shomron's eyes, no sculptor could ever match the pure, warm white of Shalimar's body, or the wonderful contrast of Shalimar's black ears, matched by the inky black softness of his tail tuft.

Shalimar was coming into the fine, pure power that was the birthright of the predator. As they walked away from the docks, to avoid the Simians only station, he had noticed both Simian and Fur-bearing heads begin to turn, looking twice at Shalimar, even from a distance. Shomron looked at Shalimar's huge paws. Once they had been a source of ridicule for the hard hearted Simian young. Shalimar's explosive growth spurt could be seen best in them. His paws fit smoothly into his enlarging limbs. The last traces of the gangly cub giving way to the sinuous adult cat. Nature and time seemed to be carving him out of solid muscle. Shomron reached out, his paws filled with a tentative tenderness so his digits could trace the deep, natural lines that were plainly visible along Shalimar's ribs., They used to show only when he stretched. Now, as he slept, there was a subtle ripple of muscle that rolled over him like a wave each time he breathed. As he touched reverently, Shomron was deathly still, not wanting to wake him, or to allow the beautiful image before him to end.

The young cheetah reached out farther, sweeping a gentle touch along the natural contours of Shalimar's ribcage. Shomron's breath caught, and his heart skipped as his digits found themselves buried in fur!

Undermine!! Just like Shalimar wanted. How could he have missed it? Shomron's paw rolled around gently in the downy soft fringe of fur that outlined Shalimar's torso. A softy rolling purr rose from deep inside Shomron. Shalimar must be proud. More and more like his father. The cheetah made a note to tease Shalimar gently when he woke up. Maybe he could get Shalimar to pose for him. He had done it before, just to please Shomron. Now, he had more and better reason to ask again.

Shomron felt a wave of deep down heat rush over him, running tingly fingers over his ear tips and slowly down his spine. As it moved, Shomron's chest tightened, the way it always did when he touched Shalimar. There was no one in the world more stunning to the cheetah. Shomron felt blessed as he gently brought his paws together pads down, letting them flow gently down the sleek power of Shalimar's side. Shomron drew in a shallow, quiet breath, and exhaled a sigh of pure bliss.

Shalimar granted him an unexpected reward. The white lion drew a full, deep breath, slowly, as if in the depth of a wonderful dream filled slumber. Then, all at once, as Shomron drew back his paws slowly, Shalimar was moving! Fluidly, in the manner of the great cat, Shalimar seemed to become a wave of easy motion. His motion was led by his head, and with a flowing twist, his chest took up the movement, until at last, his powerful hind legs rolled through the motion left in his spine.

Shalimar would have never given it a fraction of a thought, but for Shomron, even Shalimar's simplest motions were inscribed on his senses like fine poetry. The cheetah was so wrapped in observing the motion and the fluid nature of it that it took almost a full second after Shalimar was still for Shomron to realize that the white lion was now turned full on his back! The hammer of Shomron's heart seemed to pound the breath from him in one stroke! Shalimar lay wide open before him, snow white perfection in the art of the lion splayed across the floor of their tent. All of him could be seen and admired. He was visible and open from his mountainous range of chest, through the thickness of the crest of Fur that was the fall of his mane. Like a mantle of new fallen snow across some masterwork of pristine mountains. The taper of the muscular foothills and a snow bank of mane fur led Shomron's eyes down the sleekness of Shalimar's thinner midsection, over a belly taught and capped with six nipples, to the base of his-

Shomron's thoughts dissolved, and the rest of him wasn't far behind. Shalimar's tail was looped out and around one leg, and the full view was of a male lion in full erection, leaving nothing at all hidden from Shomron's startled eyes. Only the threat of passing out made him draw his next shallow breath, some time later. He was dimly aware of his lower jaw quivering. Shomron set his teeth gently into his lower muzzle, and felt a vacant warm trickle down his chin. His senses overflowed, and his overheated head seemed to expand, as feeling took leave of his body.

He was still struggling with exhaling when he felt another, familiar sensation. Shomron sucked in his breath, as he looked away, up, up and up that beautiful white mountain, until the heat of his gaze was quenched in Shalimar's deep brown eyes. They were as warm as his senses were hot, and as open as Shomron's feelings were repressed. . The expression in them took Shomron in like a warm, full hug.

"Hello, Gorgeous!" Shalimar whispered, barely audible above the pounding rain on the canvas above their heads.

Shomron was frozen, both at muzzle and at heart. Words like these were his fondest wish. Was he dreaming, or hearing just what his heart wanted to hear?

The answer to all his questions and hopes came on another sensation. Soft velvet over warm flesh. It was a surge that washed all his confusion into insignificance. It swept thru him like a lightning bolt, born in a new spring rain. Shomron threw his head back, and on a sleek neck turned to putty, Shomron gasped, clawing oxygen from the damp, close air inside the tent. The half breath kept the cheetah conscious, and lifted a sound from him that was half chirp and half growl. It was as if Shalimar had found a way to pour all of his potent sensuality into one touch, and send it flowing into him. One single pure moment, that swamped Shomron with bliss and lust in the same instant. Shomron's paws slashed downward, claws all the way out. Not to wound, nor to kill but to grasp and hold. Shalimar's skill was beyond any of his hopes. Shomron could feel Shalimar's huge hind paw digits flexing. Feel the slightest movement of that paw as it rolled and dipped, keeping the very tops of the white paw, rather than it's claws, brushing against Shomron's full erection.

The cheetah shuttered, deeply and from his soul as well as his bow-like spine. The entire tent trembled as well, seeming for a moment to want to tear itself from the ground.

He was out again. It had happened with Sylmar, too. It still embarrassed him that as old as he was, he couldn't control himself there, in spite of the body that was growing up around him. The embarrassment was washed down the drain of his soul as wave after wave of building lust consumed him. It was incredible!!

Over the roar of the rain, even over the roar of a lion, Shomron snarled, releasing himself to pleasure. He wanted to be all male.

No walls.

No holding back.

Pure male lust.

Unchained.

"Yes, Shalimar." he growled.

"Take a look, Handsome!" Shalimar's warm rumble of a voice rolled like another thunderclap thru Shomron.

Shomron looked down, and saw himself. But this shaft was longer than he remembered, and had a deep but gentle curve. The lion paw that played with him softly was as hot as all his passion, and as gentle as all his hopes. He could not believe it. The sight made him gasp loudly.

"Surprised?" A deep, sweet, rumble asked him.

Shomron's head and neck twitched more than nodded.

"I told you you'd come back changed." Shalimar teased.

By now, Shomron was panting, his forepaws holding him up dug deep but gentle claws into Shalimar's chest. His tail lashed the inside of the tent, a whip of pure pleasure. Shomron's hips needed to thrust, and the sensation of pressing into that paw drove Shomron as wild mentally as he was becoming physically.

But it was that voice that overwhelmed him. Shalimar's voice had deepened, along with his chest, seemingly overnight. Even before Shomron's enforced vacation Shalimar's voice was ten times his size, and his roar, practiced only in the deep woodlands, was the single most terrifying sound that Shomron could imagine. Shalimar had grown into his voice. All the way. His purr was intoxicating thunder, and inside his head, Shomron begged for him to say anything, just so that voice could melt him away.

"You're so handsome." Shalimar purred. "Look at that chest, those beautiful, stacked shoulders. Lifting ore carts? I bet you took them two at a time. Show me your arms, please?"

As if Shalimar needed to ask. There was hardly any vanity in the young cheetah. But the one spot of it that balanced his natural humility could be his arms. Forelimbs were not normally a bipedal cheetah's focus. But Shomron disliked the imbalance he found in being all legs, and able to out run anything on the planet. So as most of his contemporaries hauled one ton sledges for fun, Shomron could lift as well as pull them. Use had transfigured his shoulders into rolling masses of muscle that rippled beneath Shomron's short fur. The work had done more than give his arms mass, it had given them real power. Since the onset of puberty, Shomron's body seemed to pack on muscle as it was worked. It seemed like that's what he had been decanted for. But in this moment, life only had one meaning for Shomron.

Shalimar. And all his pleasure. Using his whip like spine to the fullest, Shomron sat up, bowing his back deeply, so he would balance as he brought his paws up from Shalimar's chest, and laced his paw digits together at the back of his smallish head.

The movement was simple, but the limbs that it helped to display were complex works of a master craftsman, etched, it seemed from cheetah fur and muscle. Lean, long muscles cut valleys into the thick limbs, and thru them, like river water rushing thru gorges, Shomron allowed the power of his arms to flow. Round, smooth shoulders, capped by masses of power the lion could only imagine gave away slowly to the thicker part of the forearm, where the muscle mass flexed and rippled. His biceps were nearly as big as Shalimar's paws. A perfect line in Shomron's inner arm split the tone of his spotted fur and the pure white fur that ran in a wide swath from his inner elbows, flowing all the way along this inner arms and all the way to his slim waist. The contrast of fur tones set off his biceps and the equally big triceps.

"Wonderful." Purred the thunder lion.

Shomron felt his ears grow warm. He had taken the time to craft his arms especially for Shalimar's pleasure. All the hours of volunteer work with the iron hammers was made worthwhile in a single word from Shalimar. The young cheetah found some pleasure for himself in this moment of display. In camp, his heart had touched the bit of himself that was ego centered, and that part bubbled to the surface at odd moments. Again, it was Shalimar who seemed to hold the key. The young white lion was beginning to mature. His existence was a pure and powerful display. So simple and without pretense. Shomron hoped some of that was becoming a part of him. He longed to be accepted for all that he was, and Shomron wanted so much to be more like his soul mate. His guard dissolved when he was alone with Shalimar. Now the cheetah wanted to be as powerful and wild as the lion he loved. He took his right forepaw from behind his head, clenched his paw digits, and rolled his balled fist around, so that all the power of his forearm could be seen, along with his biceps and shoulders. Here too, lean, long muscle, sculpted to a feline sleekness made natural steel out of pure cheetah. He straightened the limb fully and then slowly bent at the elbow, relishing the strength and the power in himself. Shomron heard Shalimar's breath catch, and his purr change tone. That sound could not be equaled by a thousand cheering voices. There was no finer complement.

"All for you." He heard himself say.

"Shomron?"

"Yes, Handsome?"

"Would you be offended if I said what I thought?"

"Never."

"You are absolutely beautiful."

The timbre of those words, and the quiver in the voice made them genuine. Shomron began to cry, a river of warm tears cascading down from his thrust out chin.

"Did I hurt you? Oh Shomron, I'm so sorry. Forget I said anything please?" the wonderful resonant voice asked tenderly.

"No." Shomron answered. "I won't forget.

"Forgive and Forget, Please?"

"No." Said Shomron flatly. "No, my beautiful, handsome, powerful, soul mate. I won't forget. I never will. I love you, and I don't ever want to forget, and I'll never be sorry again."

"I love you too, Shomron."

Those words.

The Words.

Shomron's entire being seemed to collapse on itself, as all he had ever felt for Shalimar seemed to replay across his mind over one single second. Compressed like a neutron star, Shomron took precisely one heartbeat worth of time to go super nova!

The young cheetah chirped, an almost bark like sound, and leapt suddenly at the expanse of lion below him.

Shalimar's paws, those huge, wonderful gentle paws were ready. Instantly, fore and hind entwined, and Shomron was wrapped in a warm expanse of white fur. There came a moment of rushing paws as the young biped tried to grab and hold Shalimar everywhere, fearing that he might vanish like so many nights of dreams. But this loving ghost was wonderfully solid. Warm and rugged, his huge body simply engulfed the leaner of the two cats. Shalimar was wonderfully real, just as the love that reflected in their eyes as they met, nose to nose, and soul to soul.

Those fantastic brown eyes were there, waiting for him again. This time, they were filled with an almost pure and gentle starlight.

Shomron's powerful arms wrapped gently and completely around the massive white head, keeping them close.

"I love you so. Admire you so, and I need and want you more than words can tell." Shomron's confession was interwoven with slow stokes of his tongue across an avalanche of white head fur. An equally gentle and electrifying lion tongue was Shomron's answer, as Shalimar gently swept tears from tears on Shomron's muzzle.

"I'm yours."

"Oh, please, please say that again."

"I am yours. Always have been yours, and always will be yours."

Even Shomron's lean and powerful arms couldn't find their way around Shalimar's mountainous shoulders. Cheetah paws could barely touch each shoulder blade, leaving a gap across the thickest part of Shalimar's back.

"Oh Shalimar. I've loved you for so long. Ever since I want to remember."

"Since we could see, I've always known that you were made for me." Shalimar spoke, and then stopped short. "Poor choice of words?" he whispered to his cheetah love.

"Oh No, Dearest Shalimar. Just the right word. I don't mind it, and never will again. Because from now on, I was made. Just for you, and I'm proud of that."

"There's another kind of Pride we should consider, Sweet Shomron." The lion purred gently.

"You give me your heart, and now your soul? Are you sure, my Handsome Shalimar?"

"Both are yours. I gave them to you the day we met."

Shomron broke down and wept, bawling years of frustration and seemingly unfulfilled hopes into Shalimar's new mane. Lion paws, fore and hind, enveloped Shomron as all the young cheetah's dreams came true over one wonderful moment. The touch of those paws was like a flowing river of warm velvet. Instantly, they healed wounds of imagination, heart and soul. Shomron wept for the year and more they would never have again, because their love had grown deeper than words could tell. But that promise lost was now replaced by something far greater and deeper than the mere passage of time.

"Oh, sweet lion, Yes, I want to be a part of all that you are." Shomron's answer flowed through a swollen throat, and a heart bursting with joy.

Shalimar's gentle paw touches canceled Shomron's pain, replacing it with an almost giddy happiness, that flowed from somewhere deep inside him.

"Do your parents know, Shalimar?" The cheetah asked.

Gods, Shomron thought to himself, How much that name sounded like sweet music!

"They have always known. Why do you think they gave us this night?"

Shomron was stunned, and it showed on his muzzle.

That made Shalimar laugh gently. "They knew almost the same time I knew. I was going to tell you tonight, but you were ahead of me, as usual. Cheetah's are faster in lots of ways."

Shalimar's hind paw found Shomron's shaft again, brushing it until the cheetah sighed in gentle surrender.

"I wanted your first night back to be something special. Instead, I couldn't even light a campfire for us." Shalimar confessed.

Shomron grabbed hold of his huge Soulmate, and pulled their bodies close together, so that their touch left nothing at all between the males. This time, it was Shomron who began a gentle motion, moving male against male. This time, it was Shalimar who surrendered.

"Don't worry, Shalimar. Fire burns where you make it."